LITMIR.BIZ

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are amused to watch you running about with the bairns, but they wouldn’t be amused if they saw you in your pantaloons with your arm around Ted and your leg tied to his. You will not do this.”

      “But we could practise up near the graveyard. No one would see us there.”

      Pa laughed. “In this town someone always sees everything, Miss Jenny. Haven’t you learned that yet? You and Ted won’t practise together. Is that understood?”

      Jenny nodded, disappointed. I, too, was disappointed. Although the idea of practising with Jenny had at first upset me, I had begun to think it would have been... I felt my cheeks grow hot again.

      “Pa’s right,” I said. “But you must promise you won’t practise with this Joseph, either.”

      “Did I not already say I wouldn’t?” She sighed. “Well, I’ll say it again. I won’t practise with Joseph. I promise.”

      There was a knock on the door, and it swung open. Peter entered, took a deep breath, then greeted us. “Mr. MacIntosh, Miss Jenny, Ted, it is good to see you again. I like sawdust smell better than hot grease.”

      “It’s good to see you, too, Peter,” I said. “How’s your new job?”

      “I do not need to work there now,” Peter said. “The Frenchman has again gone to Mosquito Creek, so I come back and help you.” He scrutinized the floor as he spoke. It hadn’t had a thorough sweeping since he left, and the piles of scrap lumber in the corner were in disarray. “I think it is good that I work here again, yes?”

      “Aye,” Pa agreed, looking around him as if he, too, were wondering if I had swept the floor at all while Peter had been away.

      “A grand idea,” Jenny said. She had picked up one of the twins and was trying to brush the sawdust from his clothes. “I don’t recall the bairns getting so dirty when you were here to keep the floor clean, Peter.”

      “I also do carpentry like my father,” I said. “I’m not merely a sweeper of floors. We’ve been very busy.”

      “I know, sir...Ted. But I think it is good that I am back,” Peter said, picking up the broom. “Very good.”

      “I must go,” Jenny said, lifting the other twin and attempting to remove sawdust from his legs and arms. “I thank you for doing this favour, Ted. Oh, I must nae forget. Here is the dollar. You’ll make sure that yours and Joseph’s names are put down for the race?”

      “Yes,” I said reluctantly. I still didn’t want to run with Joseph, but I had promised. “I’ll pay the entry fee and enter our names.”

      Jenny smiled. “Thank you, Ted.” Then, with the twins securely leashed, she swept out of the store, almost dragging her charges.

      The twins didn’t go quietly, though. “No go, Jenny!” they protested. Stay here!”

      All of us watched her leave. “So,” Pa said, grinning, “it seems that perhaps your Scottish lassie has found a new boyfriend.”

      “She is not my lassie. She is free to keep company with anyone, even this Joseph Morrison. I only regret that I let myself be persuaded to enter the race with him.”

      “But you did promise, son.”

      “Who is Joseph Morrison?” Peter asked, now busy with the dustpan.

      “A perfect stranger,” I said. “I don’t even know how tall he is.”

      “How tall?” Peter asked. “Why is that important?”

      I explained about the race and how, against my better judgement, I would race with Jenny’s new friend.

      Peter looked confused. “Three legs race? But two people have four legs. How can you race with only three?”

      “Haven’t you ever watched the Dominion Day celebrations?” I asked.

      “No.”

      “Oh, it’s a foolish race,” I said, then explained how each pair of racers stood side by side and tied their centre legs so they had to move together. “It takes practice to be able to pace your strides to those of your partner.”

      “So each person has one and a half legs to run with, right?”

      “Yes,” I said, though I had never thought of it exactly that way. But half of three was one and a half, so perhaps Peter was right. “I sincerely wish I hadn’t agreed to enter, not with someone I don’t even know. I’ll have no chance to practise before the race.”

      “I will practise with you,” Peter said. “I run very quickly, but I have never tried to run this way, with only half a leg on one side.”

      “You?” I looked at him closely. “You are almost Jenny’s height, and she said that Joseph isn’t much taller than she is. You’ll do very well as a practice partner, Peter. Thank you.”

      Who would help Joseph Morrison practise? I wondered. No matter. It would be obvious to everyone watching the race, even to Jenny, that I had worked hard to improve my skill. Everyone would know who was the better runner. Jenny would see who was the better man.

      Or, as Peter said, the better one-and-a-half-legged man.

       Nine

      Peter and I practised almost every day during the next few weeks. After work we headed for a quiet street near the upper end of Chinatown where we could run without worrying about bumping into other people. The two of us soon became used to each other’s running style. We were a good team, moving quickly, our bound legs working as one.

      “We are not bad,” Peter said one day, laughing.

      “We’re doing very well,” I said, panting. “I only wish I could practise with Joseph, as well.” We had finished for the day. Soon I would head up the Richfield road toward home and dinner, but I stood with Peter for a while, resting and talking. “How are things?” I asked.

      He knew what I meant. “Good. The Frenchman stays away. Maybe in Quesnel Mouth, maybe at Mosquito Creek. Not here. So no one worries.”

      “I’m relieved to hear that. I’ve heard the judge will come in July. The trial will be soon, and then it will be over.”

      “For Ah Mow, yes, it is over,” Peter said. “Very much over. But for Henri Tremblay, well, perhaps his time in jail is beginning.”

      “Unless he is sentenced to death. There was another murder here, Peter. The man found guilty of that crime was hanged.”

      “I know. My uncle told me. You helped the law then. You made sure that man was punished.”

      “I didn’t do much,” I said, hoping he would change the subject.

      “That man’s name was James Barry. I learn that, sir...Ted. I know you will make sure that Henri Tremblay is punished also, same as James Barry was. It is fate.”

      “I will do what I can, Peter.”

      “I know.”

      “However, I don’t think of James Barry anymore,” I added, then said goodbye and began the long walk home.

      That was true. At least I tried not to think of James Barry. The nightmares were gone now, but I had heard his laughter in my dreams long after he was buried. Then, on the day of the great fire when so much of Barkerville was destroyed, I had thought I had seen his ghost.

      I had told no one except Bridget that I thought it was James Barry’s voice that had awakened me from a deep sleep that day, his voice that had told me to run from the deadly fumes of the fire. I had told no one but Bridget that, for a while, I believed a ghost had saved my life.

      It wasn’t true, of course. There were no ghosts. Something else must have awakened me, and then I imagined the rest. I hadn’t seen a ghost. I was absolutely positive

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