Chapter Four

William got his outer jacket back on in a hurry and took off after the stretcher, squeezing himself into the small room behind the camp office which was set aside for treating the inevitable injuries during a logging operation. Behind the official business area were two private rooms-one for the foreman's quarters and one for an infirmary, where the resident medic, Albert Saulnier, also slept. Daniel was laid on the spare bed and Saulnier bent to tend him, peering under the bloody cloth someone had used to staunch the head wound.

He looked carefully at Daniel's eyes, checked his pulse and breathing, then addressed his limbs looking for bone breaks. Daniel seemed to be responding a bit. "Bien! Heureusement que sa tête est dure !" Several of the men laughed nervously about the victim's hard head. The medic continued his rapid French. "Seeing blood is good. He will be out of it for a little while, I think. I can find no broken bones. We will have to watch him." He arranged Daniel comfortably and created a bandage for the wound while giving the rest of his medical assessment, then shooed everyone out.

William remained, staring at Daniel. "How is blood a good thing?" He could not help himself asking-it looked bad, even worse than Tremblay's injury.

"You are his new partner, looking out for him?" Saulnier answered, "I have seen this before from head wounds-they bleed like a stuck pig. The real damage depends on how a man is struck and where. I have seen a fight where a man gets his face punched or falls and then gets back up-seems everything is fine-and then he is dead within the day because his bleeding is inside the skull." He turned to his patient. "Beecham here himself knocked out good, but is coming around and I hope for the best. It is good he has not been one of those who regularly gets into the losing end of a brawl."

William's mind was racing as he left the infirmary to fetch ice for his partner's head. Daniel had indeed come around briefly, with Saulnier asking if him if remembered his own name, who William was, where he was and if he remembered falling. Daniel was affirmative for the first three, but for the last question he mumbled a word before lapsing unconscious again.

William could have sworn the word was 'pushed.'

On the way back from delivering ice to the infirmary he asked one of the men where Daniel was found and then took an extra loop of trail up to where Tremblay was killed. He had no idea what he was actually looking for. The death scene looked so clean and innocent, wrapped as it was in pristine white blanket of snow, that he almost walked right past. He came away wondering exactly why Tremblay was so far off the path, feeling dissatisfied and foolish while walking back to see where an unconscious Daniel was discovered. The only connection he could see was that both areas were not in any direct line of sight from main camp. Daniel's drive to know the truth was already infecting William.

William walked back towards main camp, turning the questions over in his mind for a solution, recalling the teachers at St. Ignatius were often an odd combination of pleased and despairing when, as a student, he had a problem in his teeth and could not let go. Where to begin now? Motive, means and opportunity. Daniel had explained these were the question to be answered, so William accepted that idea.

He started laying it out in his head. Means was easy-some sort of stick or handle bashed Tremblay's head in-or at least that is what Daniel believed. For opportunity it was anyone who was not where he was supposed to be or had no witness to his whereabouts. For motive, we are looking at men who had a problem with Tremblay….

William automatically stepped back from that idea, because that would indicate someone amongst the men he'd been living and working with for the last month, eating with, going to Church with while the camp was set up, was a killer, and it made him feel slightly sick. Another terrible thought intruded: Is it possible Daniel got too close to finding out who that was? The suspicion in his gut was growing that his partner was assaulted because he was nosing around.

Something else was nagging at him, just below his awareness, including that, one way or the other, he needed to know what had actually happened to both men. Unless Daniel regains consciousness soon and is able to tell me anything, it is going to be up to me to find out.

The more he thought about it, the more he was concerned about Gagnon's behavior at confession and while dictating the letter to his sister. Without knowing what else Daniel had learned, William decided to start by questioning Gagnon, if only he could figure out the best way to do so. "So, do you feel guilty because you killed your brother-in-law?" was hardly a civil opening line of communication. He asked himself what Father Keegan might have done, remembering the priest was always good at getting the truth out of him.

William had no trouble at all locating François Gagnon. The man was in the barn, working on making a marker for Tremblay's grave, using the available wood-working tools usually reserved for furniture construction or repairs. William stopped to admire the work and quietly hand over the next tool. In the silence William began his inquiry.

"Today you beat me to see Father Campeau. He must have been surprised it was you and not me." William paused. "You seemed so upset about your brother-in-law's death…I hope the good Father gave you some peace…"

Gagnon scraped and scraped at the wood, then used a wooden mallet to start carving letters. He sighed several times, obviously trying to decide if he wanted this conversation or not, but the silence did its work. "My sister would not be a widow were it not for me. I often had bad thoughts about François, I hated him at times for his ways. When the tree came down… I wondered if it was God's punishment for his transgressions, but then I thought about it was me that sent him there." He hung his head. "I pray I did not do the Devils' work instead."

"What do you mean she would not be a widow but for you?" William's heart raced, but he managed to say it calmly, slowly, focusing on what he thought was the most important question.

"I sent him up there to meet with one of the new men who was asking after him, Pierre Leblanc, and I thought Leblanc had gone up the ridge. I guess he never found him." Gagnon sighed again, brushing curls of wood off the marker. "I sent him up the mountain, then the big wind started and François… he came down in a shroud."

"I see. Did this Leblanc say what he wanted?" William held his breath.

"To renew an acquaintance. François wanted to talk with him as well. Seems they never got the chance."

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William walked away from the barn absorbed in thought, not knowing what to do with this information. It had never occurred to William or Daniel that one of the recently arrived men might have suddenly taken it upon themselves to commit murder, expecting no possible motive to have erupted in a mere few days- even with a personality as difficult as Tremblay.

William questioned himself. I have no proof, only a theory. How can I tie this together more tightly? He made a quick circuit, looking for Leblanc, and found him in an adjoining bunkhouse. He pretended to need to speak with the headman by giving an update on Daniel's condition, all the while watching Leblanc out of the corner of his eye. William recognized the signs—years watching his peers at school gave him that knowledge. Guilty, that man feels guilty...

Back in his bunkhouse, William took out a scrap of paper and sketched his thoughts. He wanted at least one more indication that this Leblanc fellow might have given a coup de grace to Tremblay, and poured over what he remembered of Daniel's original list. He no longer believed Gagnon was responsible for his brother- in- law's death. If Tremblay was going to meet with a friend, that can explain why he was away from his station because our foreman cannot abide men standing round just talking. If Charbonneau was also looking for Tremblay, that can explain why he was first on the scene rather than him being the killer. Besides, he had no weapon and we could not find a motive for the foreman to have committed this act.

Dark was closing in fast with no resolution. Restless, William went for a walk finding his feet taking him back to the office. Inside, 'Taureau' Charbonneau was doing paperwork in his room, and Daniel remained unawares in the infirmary. Saulnier greeted him. "Will you spell me, Guillaume? Beecham is sleeping lightly now, and I want to stretch my legs." William agreed because it was going to give him time to search Daniel's possessions—he had only made that decision as he arrived by the bedside.

As soon as he was alone, he started. "Well, Daniel. Let's see what you have here…" William muttered under his breath.

Daniel was down to his woolen underwear, lying under thick blankets, with his outerwear drying near a small heating stove. Closing the door carefully, he started searching Daniels pockets, coming up with Daniel's list. If Daniel was assaulted because of the questions he was asking, the assailant did not know enough to pinch the page holding the names. William's eyes widened when he searched the sheet of paper. Daniel had in fact been crossing out names: all of them, in fact, were crossed off. So, if it is not one of the original crew, then it has to one of the men who arrived this week. He finished his snooping and was waiting nervously when Saulnier returned, bidding him good night.

William almost knocked on the foreman's doorframe, then kept walking-enthusiasm for reporting his suspicion was fading fast. "Guillaume!" Charbonneau stopped him. "I will put you with Martin tomorrow if he'll have you. Poor Daniel—I hope this slip and fall does not end him as a lumberman, God willing." William gave an uncomprehending look until the foreman added: "I don't think he will be back in the trees in twelve hours, do you?"

Shaking his head, William could not make himself move his feet. Swallowing, he asked if Charbonneau had a moment, getting a sour look but being waved into the small bed-sit arrangement. "Sir. I don't know if you heard him, but I think Daniel told us he did not just slip and fall—I thought I heard him say he was pushed…" When Charbonneau snorted an objection, William continued. "Sir … Daniel and, um…I have been worried that Tremblay was not killed by the tree falling on him. Daniel showed me a wound on his head – he thought someone killed Tremblay by hitting him with a round handle of some kind…." William related the details to his boss, who was more and more disturbed as his young employee went on. William's mouth was dry and he was breathing hard.

Charbonneau gave into his anger when William paused to take a breath. "So, you think Leblanc did this?"

"I think it is possible. Originally we thought it might be you… because you were the one who called for help. But I noticed you did not have any tools with you, nothing to have hit Tremblay with." William rushed on as the foreman's face purpled. "I think this Pierre Leblanc had an issue with Tremblay from something in the past, and finished him off after the tree already fell on him…and I think he tried to kill Daniel." His mind felt sharp and satisfied in a new way, even if he was scared to death. "Gagnon knew both of them were acquainted and sent Tremblay right up to meet him. The timing is right. The opportunity is right." William was also very sure his intuition was correct as well.

"So! Beecham has been teaching you more than about being a lumberman, no?" He set his glasses aside to rise. "D'Acord. I will speak with Leblanc. Sit…!" he said when William got up to accompany him. "This is very serious and you should have come to me before this. Out here this is my job, and you should have trusted me." Charbonneau glared at him. "I will keep you and Daniel out of this."

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Once confronted by Charbonneau, Leblanc crumbled. He explained he was shocked that of all the places he could find himself, to be in tight company with Tremblay was an act of fate. Tremblay was nasty and dismissive, taunted him when they spoke. When the tree fell, Leblanc also took that as the hand of God, and said at first he felt he did the Lord's work in sending Tremblay to Hell. He was babbling on about how he found finishing off Tremblay irresistible, his motive being revenge for the death of his sister. By the next morning guilt ate at him and he was considering running away when Charbonneau questioned him.

William was back in two days' time, having been in the party that took Leblanc to the depot and turned him over to another set of men who would transport him on to Bytown authorities. Daniel was awake and sensible by the time William checked in on him to tell more of the story.

"Leblanc wanted to confront Tremblay, get him to admit to what he had done, believing the man had raped his sister Jeanette, after which the young girl suicided," William related to Daniel who was sitting up and taking nourishment. "He could not stop talking about it all the way to the depot. I had never seen a man cry so…"

"You got to the truth, William. How does that feel?"

The whole thing brought up painful memories which stirred his insides into knots. Seeing Daniel face down on the ground and hearing Saulnier talk about brains bleeding inside the skull brought back a gut-wrenching, disorienting flash of his own mother face down in a stream, along with powerful feelings of rage towards his father, now that he knew Harry was responsible for her death. The truth brought pain. It nearly choked him when he let himself think about it. William also knew he had been less disgusted at Leblanc's behavior than he had been with Tremblay. "It will have to do, I guess. I believe Leblanc should not have taken the law into his own hands, should have trusted in the law. But Jeanette Leblanc is still dead. "

"Yes. Yes she is." Daniel was quiet.

Into that silence, William asked him. "Why did you want to find this out? And what did Charbonneau mean about teaching me more than being a lumberman?"

"Ah, William! There's a story or two. D'you know I was not always a lumberjack…? Many years ago I was one of those law enforcement authorities you hauled that poor sod off to, a constable back when there was barely a police force anywhere. I liked it well enough…but I liked this better." He looked critically at William. "I must say you seem to take to police work quite naturally." Daniel laid back down on the pillows. "I stay so dizzy, my balance is off and this headache will not go away. I think Charbonneau will send me back to town if I cannot be useful here."

William frowned. "So you will not work here this winter?" He was already feeling disconnected from the other lumbermen and to miss out on being partnered with Daniel was going to hurt.

"Not unless you can teach me about that steam engine!" Daniel chuckled. "You don't seem as eager to get into the trees yourself William. I think you really enjoyed figuring out the puzzle didn't you? In fact, you just solved your first case."

"Daniel," William pulled a chair closer to the bed, "I will tell you about the steam engine if you tell me more about being a constable…."

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-END-

Dear Reader: Thank you for travelling back in time with me; I love filling in 'holes' in the plots. I hope you like my story—reviewing is easy so give it a try! I learn from your feedback and appreciate your encouragement. Also write if you have a story suggestion, especially for another 'origins' tale where ever the cannon is silent about something in William's past or any other character you'd like to see me give a try.

Retraction/correction: For those who are much better at keeping the whole MM backstories in your heads than I am...I just discovered today 4/1/2017 that the April Fool's joke is on me. NOW I discover that William was at a northern Ontario Lumber Camp (p. 43 of my very own "Investigating Murdoch Mysteries: The official companion to the series" book.) Ghaagh. Mea Culpa... . I stioll hope you like this version anyways...rg

Author's Note: full co-writing credits due to "Dutch" who rescued the ending and my "stylist" and beta reader on this one was I'dBeDelighted. Any good stuff is because they helped and errors are mine alone. Thank you Maureen Jennings and the show writers for allowing us to play in your world and with these wonderful, complex characters.

Speaking of which: Unfortunately there is a wee discrepancy in the 'cannon' about the timing of William as a lumberjack—Susannah says at age 17 he went there to work in logging ("Voices") but in another episode (Glass Ceiling) he says (or seems to say) he went right from Montreal to working as a lumberjack 2 winters then on to Toronto to apply for a job as a constable. He arrives at Mrs. Kitchen's in January 1885 and starts working. So there is a 2-year-ish gap/hole. I chose to imagine he initially tried to get a logging job at age 17 but was not taken on right away (something Susannah would not have known), but he eventually works there the winters he is 19 and 20, then leaves at age 21 before completing the third winter season to start his life as a constable, squaring the dates a little better.

And speaking of possible errors in this piece: Lumberjack was a trade of the manliest-man variety. The work was brutally difficult and at one time half of all Canadian men did indeed work in the industry. Although the internet is a wonderful thing, it did not tell me everything about life in a 1880's French Canadian logging camp (big surprise!) but I did my best to depict what I thought William's experience could have been—and made up the rest based on educated guesses. Logging camps in the 1880's were in fact generally all male & alcohol free (the better to keep the men in line and safer to be dry than drunk with all those tall trees and sharp tools), 12+ hour days with short silent meals (getting 7,000 calories in a day took dedication—so no talking with your mouth full.) There were other aspects of the operation that sometime included women—wives of the foreman or the cook, and more women were brought along in other locations and later on as time went on—but for this story I went with the all-male version and assumed it was possible to be all or nearly all Catholic since the French Canadians were predominantly Catholic.