LITMIR.BIZ

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happened will soon be proved to be blatant lies. Mr. Tremblay is innocent.”

      “That remains to be seen,” I said boldly. Both men glared at me.

      “Indeed it does,” Mr. Walkem said. “After the inquest, the magistrate said publicly that he regretted the painful duty he had to perform, that of committing Mr. Tremblay for trial at the next sitting of the Supreme Court.”

      “But there won’t be a trial for months, not until a Supreme Court circuit judge comes here again,” Bridget said. “So why is a man who is charged with murder allowed to wander the streets? Why isn’t he in jail?”

      I had wondered the same thing. From the little I knew of the workings of the courts, anyone charged with such a serious offence was usually kept in prison until his trial.

      “The magistrate was agreeable to Mr. Tremblay being released on bail,” Mr. Walkem said. “I didn’t even have to present any character witnesses, as the magistrate himself is well acquainted with Henri and said that he felt it would be a travesty if such an upstanding citizen were to spend months in jail awaiting trial.”

      “Innocent men shouldn’t be locked up,” Henri Tremblay muttered. “And I am innocent.”

      “Of course you are,” Mr. Walkem said. “Even the chief constable and the magistrate know that.”

      “Oui. Je suis innocent,” repeated Henri Tremblay. “It matters little what the heathens say. Or what a hungry boy who is almost monsieur le docteur says.” Then he looked directly at me and laughed.

       Five

      I didn’t see Henri Tremblay after that, not for many weeks. People said he had left town for the winter. After a while, talk about him and the murder of Ah Mow ceased.

      I was relieved I didn’t have to see the Frenchman, or even hear about him. He reminded me of another man who had once laughed at me, cruel laughter that I heard in my nightmares for many years. The other man had been tried as a murderer, as Mr. Tremblay would also be when the judges of the Supreme Court next came to the Cariboo. But since Henri Tremblay’s laugh didn’t haunt my nightmares, I could almost forget about him.

      Besides, I was too busy to worry about the Frenchman. Pa and I were working hard in the carpentry shop. Everyone, it seemed, wanted something built or repaired in time for Christmas. We seldom finished before seven in the evening, even though we both arrived at the shop early in the mornings. Then one bright December afternoon, with the sun sparkling on a fresh snowfall and glittering icicles hanging from the water pipes over the main road, Pa sent me outside. We kept a kettle and teapot in the carpentry shop so we could have a cup of tea with our lunch rather than go to a restaurant for the beverage, but our supply had run out. Pa asked me to go to Mason and Daly’s General Store and buy more. Gladly I put on my coat, suddenly realizing that it had been a long time since I had stepped outside during daylight. I resolved to make the errand last as long as I could, to enjoy the sunshine and the clean-smelling air.

      I was watching the clerk at Mason and Daly’s wrap the loose tea tightly in brown paper when, from behind me, came a child’s loud voice.

      “Want sweets! Now!”

      A second, almost identical voice took up the chorus. “Want sweets now, now!” When I turned and saw the Fraser twins—and Jenny—I wasn’t surprised.

      Jenny had a wicker shopping basket over one arm, and with her free hand she was desperately trying to keep both boys close to her. But one of them had escaped and was scampering toward the glass display counter where the jars of stick candy were kept. The twins were barely two and half, but they were quite active for their age and had been walking since just after their first birthday. Now it appeared they had also learned to run—quickly.

      I set down my parcel and scooped up the child. “Come here, Robert,” I said, then looked hard at him. “You are Robert, aren’t you?”

      For a moment he forgot his quest for candy. “Huncle Ted,” he said, grinning. “Want sweets, Huncle Ted.”

      I grinned back, remembering the day he was born. He had been so small, his hands and feet so tiny. I had been one of the first people to hold him, and I was also his godfather—if, in fact, this was Robert.

      “Thank you for stopping him,” Jenny said. “But that child is nae Robert. That’s Andrew.”

      “Oh,” I said. “They’re so much alike I can never tell one from the other.”

      “I have difficulty, too,” Jenny said. “Robert, come back here! At once!” Robert had broken free and was making a dash for the pickle barrel.

      As Robert disappeared behind the barrel, Andrew began wriggling in my arms. “Down, down,” he insisted.

      “Not just yet, Andrew,” I told him, reaching out in time to grab Robert as he rounded the pickle barrel, heading for the door and freedom. I lifted him up, too.

      Now both children squirmed and demanded, “Down, Huncle Ted, down!”

      “Not a chance, boys,” I said. “I can see it takes two people to handle you in public, so I’ll hang on to you tightly while Miss Jenny does her shopping.”

      “Oh, Ted, would you? Mrs. Fraser has gone to buy new gloves at Mr. Moses’s shop, and she asked me to purchase a few things here while she was busy. She would nae have brought the twins—usually they stay at home with me when she does errands—but it’s such a fine day and they needed an outing. I was sure I could handle them, but—”

      “I’ll be glad to help,” I said, tightening my grip on the boys. “But perhaps you could hurry. These two are a handful. Or, more accurately, two armfuls.”

      “I shall be fast,” she promised.

      I supposed she did try to hurry, but by the time she talked to the clerk about everything and anything, from the weather to the Christmas activities in the Fraser household, to the colour and style of the new dress she was sewing, my arms had grown tired and the children had become even more impatient.

      “Down!” they shouted in unison. Four heels thumped hard against my legs. “Down now!”

      Andrew and Robert were a good size for their age, and their feet were no longer tiny. I grimaced and put the boys on the floor, keeping one of their hands tightly in each of mine. “Miss Jenny, if you’ve finished shopping, I must get back to work.”

      “Of course, here I am blethering on. Do forgive me.” She grabbed her basket and swept toward the door, seemingly forgetting all about her charges.

      “Miss Jenny,” I said again, “if you’d be so good as to pick up that small parcel of tea on the counter and carry it for me, I’ll be glad to escort you and the twins.”

      She blushed. “I’m still new at this nursemaid job, Ted,” she confessed, taking my parcel. “I would nae really have left without the babes, but sometimes I forget I have responsibilities. Please, I’d welcome your assistance. And your company.”

      I felt myself blush in turn but covered my change in colour by bending and lifting Robert and Andrew into my arms again. “Here, boys, I’ll carry you safely across the street if you promise not to wiggle. The snow is pretty, but it’s too deep for short legs.” Then, as if it were an afterthought, I added, “I welcome your company, too, Jenny.”

      Mrs. Fraser greeted me with enthusiasm and invited me to attend an evening of song, music, and poetry reading she was planning for the following week. I accepted with pleasure, turned the twins over to their mother and Jenny, smiled my goodbyes, and headed back to Pa’s shop.

      I was still smiling as I went inside. Pa was busy at his workbench, but he looked up when I came in. “Well, here you are at last. I stuck my head out the door a wee while ago to see what was keeping you and saw you escorting a young lady across the street. Luckily I also recognized the Fraser twins, or I would have wondered

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