Chapter Two

Saturday evening was the only meal during the work week which allowed for some relaxed conversation. Tonight the bunkhouse men's talk was loud and gay as an antidote to facing mortality, having just buried one of their own, with Blanchard holding noisy court.

"Will! I want to check out our gear —come when you're done," Daniel announced as he pushed his empty plate away. William nodded and kept eating his own stew and biscuit, hoping to save room for the apple-cobbler dessert. Frowning, he watched Daniel exit into the night, his mind troubled by what the older man had revealed earlier at the ice house: suspecting 'Taureau' Charbonneau of killing Jean Tremblay was a shocking idea to say the least. When his stomach was finally full, William excused himself to re-dress and walk in the sleet to the equipment shed. Daniel obviously wanted to talk with him out of earshot of the rest of them.

Daniel greeted William with a grunt, running his finger over one of the concave felling axe blades. "I see you have sharpened everything—and no dirt or worn areas on the rigging. aAways get the best you can and then take care of it." He was laying out each piece on a work table. "You learned that you have to trust your equipment," he said with approval.

"Yes. It should all be in order. Is that why you wanted to see me?" William asked.

"No…of course not. You seemed upset with me after the burial service," Daniel observed.

William thought about the funeral over which Charbonneau so solemnly presided. Could he have murdered Jean Tremblay? William asked himself, but answered Daniel. "I am just confused. How are you going to allege one of us is a killer and then do nothing?"

"I tried to get the burial delayed, but I could hardly say outright to the foreman's face that I suspected him, now could I? I have no proof."

"Why did you tell me this?" William asked. "Why me?"

"I trust you," Daniel answered. "You're young, Will, but I've watched you closely, or I wouldn't have picked a mere third-season man to work with me this year. You a serious person, perhaps a bit too serious for a man your age, but you work hard, don't carouse and don't gossip. I think I've gotten to know something else about you-you want to know the truth, don't you?"

While it was flattering to be taken seriously by Daniel, the conversation was pulling him into familiar territory. His agitation with all of it made his head hurt just above his right eye so he rubbed the spot unconsciously. William had no idea what to say in return, averting his face from those questioning grey eyes. "What are you planning to do?" he asked cautiously.

"I want to find out what weapon might've done the deed." Daniel gestured around the shed. "I wanted to look at all the axes and hooks. See here?" He pointed to the end of a rounded handle. "I think this is the same size and shape as the wound I saw. What do you think?"

Against his better judgment, William's eyes calculated the diameter and circumference of the handle and compared it to his visual memory of what Daniel showed him in the ice house. It seemed a perfect match. "Yes. I see what you mean. But so what? We have three or four-dozen of those, not to mention the blanks set aside for repairs—or even a rolling pin! You have a possible weapon for a possible injury." William still resisted the notion that one of their own was responsible for Tremblay's death, especially the foreman. "Why would someone do such a thing?" It made no sense to him. Out here, a man's word truly was his bond; men who stole or were untrustworthy were weeded out pretty rapidly, which kept relationships between the workers on an even keel. This notion of murder violated William's sense of order and stirred darker memories.

Daniel smiled slyly. "Ah… you mean motive. It can't be only that someone could not stomach his ways. If that were so, he'd have been put out of our misery years ago, one way or the other." He waited until William smiled sourly.

"Yes…" William answered. "And yes, Tremblay was a hard man to know."

"Yes-he was a difficult man, yet you put up with him for what he could teach you about that mechanical steam beast I know you are fascinated by. Don't forget, some of the men are still skeptical of you, my fine young friend, because you can read and write, have your nose in books and use big book-smart words, even if they make use of you as a scribe because they're illiterate. It makes 'em feel small…No, I know you don't look down on 'em," he said when William objected. "But wounded feelings, jealously or revenge can be a motive for action. Out here is a place where men come to be men-and men sometimes are hot headed and unreasonable."

William agreed. While it did not happen often, arguments or even brawls occasionally erupted in a camp. Punishment was meted out swiftly and impartially-the men involved were usually heavily fined or even immediately dismissed. "So, why now? Why risk it?" It seemed illogical to William.

"It's a puzzle, isn't it? You ask all the right questions, Will. Indeed-what drove someone to act now? Daniel was thoughtful. "Who's available to either take Tremblay up there, or follow him, and then kill him and pull a tree down on top of him to cover it up?"

William remembered where Tremblay's body was found a few yards off the trail, and in his vivid imagination he ran through the various scenarios, recalling how fiercely the wind had taken up for a moment right at dusk. "What if the tree actually came down on him accidentally…then, rather than help him, someone took the chance to finish him off?"

Daniel gave a penetrating look towards William. "My, my! A crime of opportunity, not premeditated then? Good one. Just out there having a leak and…boom?" He narrowed his eyes then shook his head. "No—his trews were up where they belong, unlike that poor bugger who drowned on furlough last year. But perhaps just out there and unlucky." He turned to William. "The question becomes who had the opportunity? Then amongst those, who had motive?"

For a moment William was back at St. Ignatius facing a blackboard problem in class. He imagined two interlocking circles sorting two overlapping sets of data, and in the center would be the answer. He was grinning without knowing he did so. "That narrows down the choices, but it is still so many. How shall we ever find out?" William was now intrigued.

Daniel noticed William said 'we'. "I got the day's assignments from Charbonneau's office clerk. We can eliminate some right away I imagine, those who were constantly in plain sight, still working in a team in the company of others, or too far up the ridge. I think we can bypass the new crew members for now, they haven't had the pleasure of knowing Tremblay so there has hardly been time for a homicidal motive to erupt. Then we take it upon ourselves to verify the whereabouts of whomever is left…I have an idea about that." He put the last of the equipment away and replaced his gloves, sharing the job roster with William. "I think we start in the barn—each of us can inquire where everyone on this list was when that big wind came through." Daniel said as he cocked an ear. "Sounds to me that DuBois has his squeeze box out—again!"

William heard music drifting over, suddenly aware that the sounds of ice and hail spitting against the building had stopped. That meant that the weather had turned, probably to the promised snow. A quick glance out the door confirmed his suspicions, seeing huge white flakes falling down between the shed and the barn. By the time Daniel and William locked up the shed, DuBois' concertina music was joined by two fiddles, a bodhran, a whistle, plus who-knew-what-else noise-makers, coming from the direction of the barn to celebrate the standing up of the camp and the start of serious logging come Monday. "It will be too loud in there to ask anyone anything with all that singing and shouting." William complained as they drew near.

"Nonsense. Bring up Tremblay's death, and how the big wind affected their work - none of those blokes will be able to stop themselves from telling you their story. What's a lumberjack without a tall tale?" Daniel paused by the barn door before shoving it open with a shoulder. "Start the conversation and then sit back and listen…"

An onslaught of noise hit William's ears. "Daniel! How am I to listen to anything in the middle of this?" receiving only a smile and wave as the other man slid by to chat up the first group of men who were shooting dice, trying to stay out of the way of the cleared section of barn floor.

William made a face. If I am not careful someone will ask me to dance!

X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X

His ears were ringing. "Guillaume, ne partez pas! Nous commençons tout juste…" William's elbow was painfully wrapped in a meaty hand, and it took a manoeuver to release himself and escape being hauled into a gavotte. The barn had no heat source as a precaution against fire but felt so sweltering due to the warmth of the horses and the men's bodies that the cold outside was as welcome as the relative quiet. Daniel was already waiting outside for him.

"Daniel, what did you find out?" he asked, pushing a finger in his ear. "It seems to me this is a fool's errand. I can't keep all their stories straight."

"It only matters if they cannot keep their story straight. But I agree with you-no one in there seems to be obviously guilty or brooding about anything, and everyone currently letting loose in the barn seems to be accounted for around the time of Tremblay's demise."

William nodded and took in a deep breath. "My observation as well, if we can believe them. It sounds like the logging crews who were all working can vouch for each other with stories about the gusts that swept through. So it has to be someone else." This was frustrating to him in the extreme—too messy. He longed for some way to put his thoughts outside his head so he could look at them objectively.

Daniel must have noticed, because he said so. "Unless two men are involved and giving each other an alibi. Patience, William. This'll be like searching the forest for a perfect ship's mast-the best, straightest, tallest tree, free of branches, and bringing it down in one piece without shattering and then getting it dressed and transported. No. This is enough for tonight. Tomorrow we'll observe the men as they prepare for Mass, and work on motive."

"No one seems to have changed their opinion of Tremblay either. They either did not like him or didn't think about him much—the new men of course did not know him at all. Perhaps we need to speak with his brother- in- law, François Gagnon. He tolerated him more than most, for the sake of his sister I am told." William remained ambivalent. Tremblay was, in William's opinion, crude, lazy, swore too much and cared more for his machine than his co-workers.

"I think that's for you to do. You spent time with Tremblay and his engine—express your condolences tomorrow and see what you get. Allez. I am tired and want to smoke a pipe before bed." With that Daniel moved off towards their bunkhouse.

William walked behind him more slowly so he could think. A murder. Suspicion thrown on his co-workers. Poking our noses into other people's business. What is Daniel dragging me into?

X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X0X