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Back The Trickster Save as PDF
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

The door banged open as if it had been blown with explosives, the wooden handle thumping into the wall with such force it left an indentation in the plaster. Sam’s body went out of his control and he jumped up with a howl, his adrenalin pumping in his veins. Katie stumbled from his knee, making a small gasping noise.

It was Bart. He stood in the doorframe looking at them, mouth closed, ears cocked and alert. Katie put her hand to her own heart this time and exhaled like a runner.

‘Jesus Christ, Bart! Give us a break!’ She laughed, got her breath back and ran her hand through her hair.

‘That’s what I call a dog that wants his dinner.’

Sam was breathing very fast through his nostrils, his mouth a tight line. The husky was looking straight at Sam with steady blue eyes, and if dinner was on its mind, it seemed in no hurry.

38

Alberta 1907 Siding Twenty-three

He wanted to lie. Looking around at all these frightened raging faces, he wanted to say things that would help. But he could not. What was his life if it was not a search and a desire for the truth? This was not a court of law, but it was still a group of men who were watching him like peasants waiting for a decree from a kingly balcony, and they demanded an answer.

‘The morning. They found him in the morning. He had been missing all night.’

He said it quietly, but it was as though James Henderson had scored a try at rugby. The men burst into a shout that was triumphant at the same time as horrified. He held his hand up to them, pleading.

‘Please. Please! Listen to me!’

They were for no such nicety. They were for shouting their fury and clenching their fists.

‘For the love of God! Listen to me!’

God, or the mention of His love, was more successful. They quietened.

‘Hunting Wolf is no common murderer. The man is a great chief, chosen for his wisdom and compassion.’

There was a snort from the back of the canteen. Henderson ignored it and carried on.

‘Why would he do such a brutal and unspeakable thing?’

And it was indeed unspeakable. Henderson was only just hanging on to his nerves. Muir spoke again. It was he who had become the inquisitor.

‘You know why, Reverend. He defiled their religious ceremony.’ He spat on the floor, an uncommon gesture for Muir whom Henderson thought of as a gentleman. ‘And pish on their religion. The blasphemous devils.’