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Chapters (74)
  1. The Trickster
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Contents
  5. Preface to the 20th anniversary edition
  6. Introduction
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. Keep Reading
  70. FURNACE
  71. Acknowledgements
  72. About the Author
  73. ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
  74. About the Publisher

Sam’s face was suddenly in that dimension where anxiety can shift a gear to distress with just one word. Katie looked at him for what seemed like a very long time. Sam’s eyes glittered, his own woes temporarily forgotten as he searched her face for a hint of news about his only son.

Katie put her hand out and took his. ‘No. He’s fine. Just had a really bad dream.’

Sam looked down at her hand holding his. She was confusing him. The wall seemed to have crumbled.

‘We’re going to the doctor’s tomorrow, Sam. Together.’

He nodded and lifted her hand to his lips.

28

Alberta 1907 Siding Twenty-three

‘Take a good look at them, for the love of God!’

The men, instead, looked back at McEwan impassively. He was angry. But they were frightened, and that was by far the more dangerous and volatile of the two emotions.

In front of him, thirty-one strong men who had downed their picks to watch what these reeking savages were doing, were now waiting for their engineer to tell them that all was well. He was trying his best, attempting like an alchemist of the emotions to turn attack into comfort.

‘Go on. Look. So it is these barbarians and their wild tales that have turned you from men into children, is it? Look at them. Look at them, damn you!’

They looked out of duty, although the scene was no different from the one that had ceased their toil. In the thick, relentless snow, seven Indians were constructing a small wooden dome from willow saplings and laying out all manner of foolish trinketry that made McEwan despise them more.

Observed with a cool eye the Indians were a bizarre sight; huge wide-brimmed leather hats and ill-fitting wool coats and vests they had traded from loggers, the material bunched tight around their waists with shiny belts from which hung a variety of knives and pouches. On top of this cacophony of cloth they wrapped highly-coloured blankets which fell to their soft hide-bound feet. It enraged McEwan to think that such a band of comical fools could be bringing the most important engineering project of his life to a standstill. He was snorting steam from his nostrils as he gathered himself to address the men again.

From the back of the group, which was huddled, scattered beneath the shelter of the red cedars as they watched the proceedings, Strachan spoke in a low voice. ‘And what o’ the minister, Mr McEwan? Is he tae be told he is a child an’ aw?’