A Ribbon of Shining Steel Page 9

  We watched the Chinese Race and the Indian Race and the Wheelbarrow Race, and cheered for Papa running in the Barrel Race. Poor Papa, he did not come close to winning.

  Then there was the Greased Pig Race, with such squealing and shouting and laughing — men and boys tripping and rolling about and the poor pig flinging black mucky grease everywhere. Mama was cross because I got too close and now my frock is splattered with grease, but she could not stay angry because Andrew caught the pig. Lucky us! We’ll be having no end of bacon and pork chops.

  After the Sports we all rode on a flatcar to Emory Creek for our picnic supper. Mama spread a tablecloth over the grass and we put a stone on each corner to keep it in place. Rachel offered to set the “table,” to show what she’d learned at Angela College, but it was no different from what Mama had taught me — knives, forks, spoons, tumblers and plates, all in their proper places.

  Then the feast! Out came:

  the beefsteak pie

  chicken galantine

  lettuce torn into pieces and wrapped in a napkin

  six small rolls of bread

  my tea cakes and sponge cakes and stewed fruit

  a pint mould containing apricot cream

  3 tiny packets of twisted white paper with salt, pepper and sugar

  3 small bottles containing salad oil, French vinegar and mustard

  a white china jar with small balls of butter and a tiny branch of parsley

  a small tin of thick, sweet cream to pour over the stewed fruit.

  Goodness knows how we packed so much food into two baskets.

  Another hamper contained:

  a large jug of cold water

  4 bottles of lemonade

  4 bottles of lime cordial

  6 bottles of ginger beer.

  We loaded our plates and merrily tucked in. Then, near disaster! I thought everything tasted just right, but some of our party found the lemonade too sour and the galantine too bland, so they added sugar to the one and salt to the other, following the labels I had written on the twists of paper. But Great Godfrey, I had somehow muddled up the labels, so salt was sugar and sugar was salt. Fortunately the mistake was discovered before too many dishes — and appetites — were ruined.

  We returned to Yale at dusk, well and truly stuffed — and just in time for the dancing. A platform had been put up behind the Palace Hotel, in the middle of the trees, and Chinese lanterns were hanging from the branches. It looked like a fairy land.

  I danced the Virginia Reel three times, first with Papa as my partner, then with Rusty, then with Anne. Rachel danced all three reels with Andrew.

  Except for the salt and sugar mistake, it was a perfect day.

  Private Thought: I liked dancing with Rusty.

  Now I am going to bed, although I think I am still too wound-up to sleep.

  Friday, May 25

  This morning I stopped at the Cascade Hotel to say goodbye to Rachel. We hugged each other and cried and said we couldn’t wait until July for our camping trip. Then I went to school and she and her aunt went on the stern-wheeler back to Victoria.

  After school, Anne and I walked up the Wagon Road to look for wild strawberries. The Road is finally in good condition — except for the dust — and there is hardly any freighting going on. For once we can go for a stroll and not have to clear the way for ox teams or mule trains, because the railway cars and Skuzzy are taking the freight up the line.

  But now we have to clear the way for people! Anne wondered why there were so many workers going through Yale and I told her it is because the Upper Section is almost finished. So workers are coming in droves to finish the Lower Section, the part that goes through the Fraser Valley to the Pacific Coast.

  Some gangs are going west from Emory to Port Moody and at the same time, other gangs are working east from Port Moody to Emory. Anne said she hopes the two ends meet where they are supposed to! I hope so, too.

  While all this is going on, workers are laying track in other Sections, all across the country. Pretty soon — no one knows exactly when — the tracks pushing west from the Rocky Mountains will meet the tracks going east from Savona’s Ferry and that will be the end! I mean the end of construction. Because it will also mean the beginning of the great Canadian Pacific Railway.

  Anne asked if I knew how long the whole railway would be once it was finished and I said close to 3000 miles.

  Later I asked Papa how many bridges and trestles there were and he said the Pacific Section alone has 600. But he is not in charge of them all.

  Monday, May 28

  Cloudy and cool.

  Rusty wasn’t at school today. Clara told us that some of their cattle wandered onto the track, just below the Powder Works, and a locomotive ran into them. One died and another was injured. So Rusty stayed home to help butcher the dead one.

  Thursday, May 31

  Melissa was very excited today because her cat, Molly, had kittens and she gets to keep one.

  June 1883

  Monday, June 4

  Mama feeling poorly. I stayed home from school and washed the linen and now my back and shoulders ache something terrible. Great Godfrey, what a chore! Fill the copper with water and soap. Boil the linen for half an hour. Lift it out and rinse through two clean waters. Hang it out to dry. Pray it does not rain. Or pray it does, for an extra rinse.

  Tuesday, June 5

  “Played the devil” at the Sentinel after school and got my hands and fingers thoroughly inked. Now they are scrubbed to the bone and fair near bleeding. So Mama can stop scolding and I can get down to the important business of writing in my Diary.

  Mr. Hagan told me he went to the trial of the chicken thief so he could report it in the Sentinel. Here is what happened. Justice Crease passed two sentences. A man who stabbed another man got three years in the penitentiary. The man who stole chickens because he was desperately hungry got four years.

  There are so many things I do not understand about the world. For instance, why is a judge called Justice? I do not see any justice in these sentences. Especially after I learned that the stabber had been a soldier in the British Service and served under Justice Crease’s brother. Does that have anything to do with the sentence? And then there is the fact that the chicken thief is Chinese. Does that have anything to do with the sentence?

  I discussed this with Anne and she said she thought the sentence was fair because the Chinese man had stolen more than six chickens and inconvenienced a great many people.

  Her words made me livid. How could a few missing chickens be compared to a Serious Personal Injury? The stabbed man could have died! He could be maimed for life!

  She told me to calm down, that she was only playing “the devil’s advocate.”

  I’d forgotten about “the devil’s advocate.” We learned about it last week during a lesson on Debating. It means taking the opposite view from someone for the sake of argument.

  Anne said she agreed with me, that the sentence was certainly not fair. We decided that if we were the Justice, we would sentence the Chinese man to one year and the knife-wielding brute to twenty.

  I heard there was yet another accident up the line. A man was doing some bridge work and broke his leg.

  Papa, please be safe.

  Wednesday, June 6

  Today Rachel is fourteen. I hope she is having a happy birthday at Angela College. I hope she likes my letter and the handkerchief I sent her. I hope she does not mind that Anne crocheted most of the lace. I hope she writes back soon.

  Hope, hopeful, hopeless Kate.

  Thursday, June 7

  Cold and rainy today. I feel very low.

  Only four months until the Baby arrives. I want a sister, but I’m certain that Toby is right.

  If it is a girl, Papa will love her best.

  Sunday, June 10

  Papa went to the Fire Brigade meeting last night. This morning he checked our stovepipes and chimneys and said they were in good order. He told us we have to keep the back
yard free from straw or anything else that can be ignited because the dry weather will soon be here and we have to be prepared.

  Sometimes I wake up in the night, certain that I can smell smoke or hear the crackle of flames. Then I realize it is my imagination.

  I still remember the fire two years ago. It was August 18, 1881. I had gone to Mr. Suitto’s for oranges and was walking home along Front Street. One minute it was a hot and dusty summer afternoon, the next minute it was a blazing inferno.

  I was directly in front of the Caledonia Hotel when I saw the fire burst out of the roof, right near the chimney, and in seconds the whole roof was a mass of flames. People were yelling from the upper storey, shouts and cries filled the street, the locomotive engine whistled the alarm. Then Kimball and Gladwin’s General Store caught on fire, then the building next to it, then the Palace Hotel, all on the north side of the street.

  People were rushing everywhere, removing goods from the buildings that were not yet ablaze and piling them up on the south side of the street to be safe, but it was no use. In minutes the flames had spread to the south.

  The roof of the Express building was on fire, and Mr. Suitto’s fruit store, and the doctor’s office and Schroeder’s Butcher Shop, and the big brick Oppenheimer building. One store after another went up in flames — the Chemist Shop, Mr. Clair’s Bakery and Confectionery, the Post Office, Gilmore and Clark’s Dry Goods, Mr. McQuarrie’s boot and shoe shop, the California House, saloons, barber shop, coach house, Mr. Tuttle’s new restaurant — all this was on Front Street, and on Douglas Street, up behind Front, people’s homes were burning, as well as the Jail and Government House.

  I wanted to go home but the heat was too intense. So along with everyone else I fled to the east end of town.

  When the fire was finally out, we could see that the entire block was destroyed — what everyone called the heart of the town. Everything was gone — except for a few chimneys, part of the stone walls of the Jail, two brick walls of Oppenheimer’s store, Mr. Clair’s oven and Mr. Tuttle’s cottage. It was saved because two brave ladies rushed to the rescue and extinguished the flames.

  That part of town was a grim sight for weeks. But people started to rebuild and the clean smell of new wood soon replaced the smell of smoke.

  I did not know all the details at the time, being too confused and frightened. Later I learned that there was not enough water pressure to properly fight the fire. And there were not enough men to fight it, as they were too busy saving their own goods.

  Last year the Fire Brigade got an engine, a hose cart and a hose. And this summer the water tanks are being repaired. Papa says we are being well looked after. I hope so.

  Monday, June 11

  Received an invitation to Clara’s birthday party on June 25th, a fortnight from now.

  She will be eleven years old. I hope it won’t rain because we’re going to play croquet! I’ve never played before and I can’t wait to try.

  Tuesday, June 12

  Another railway worker killed today, by falling rock.

  Thursday, June 14

  Terrible news today. I thought my worst nightmare had come true because the Railway Superintendent told Mama he had received a telegram saying a part of a bridge had collapsed — and it’s Papa’s bridge! Eight men were killed and ten wounded, including Papa — but thankfully, his injuries are not serious. He is coming home tomorrow.

  Friday, June 15

  Papa is home. He told us more about the bridge accident. Part of the framework gave way and the men and timbers fell 70 feet. Only one man was killed, not eight, but there were lots of injuries — broken legs and arms and severe concussions. One man is still senseless. Papa says he is lucky he escaped with only a fractured wrist and bruises, but he feels terrible about the other men.

  Saturday, June 16

  Went up the hill with Anne. Saw a bear and two cubs, but they were a good distance away and paid us no mind.

  Got home and made a jam roly-poly to cheer Papa up. He is sad about the accident and feels responsible because he is the Foreman — even though he was not to blame.

  Monday, June 18

  Plans are afoot. Mama and Papa speak in hushed voices and whenever I’m in earshot — or whenever Toby and Andrew are about — they stop talking altogether. Have they changed their minds about sending me to Angela College? Now I’m not sure if I want to go or not. Rachel still has not answered my last letter.

  At school today Rusty told us how he had helped his father put in their croquet court. I wish we could do the same in our yard, but you need a flat lawn. We do not have room for a lawn, flat or otherwise. Too many chickens, vegetable plots, fruit trees and flower beds.

  Four more days of school! Next month Rachel will be home. I can’t wait to visit her in Spuzzum and go horseback riding. I wonder if Starlight will remember me.

  Tuesday, June 19

  Went to Gilmore and Clark’s with Mama after school to pick out a new hat. Anne was there, too, and we tried on one hat after another until our mothers got annoyed and said, “If you do not make up your minds this instant, we will do it for you.” So we each picked a straw boater. Mine has a pink ribbon and Anne’s has blue, so we won’t get them mixed up when we wear them to school or to Clara’s party.

  Thursday, June 21

  Yesterday it was almost 90 degrees in the shade and today was the same. When there is a breeze it is like a puff from a furnace. The streets are inches deep in dust.

  We had our end-of-term concert this afternoon and the school was so crowded with parents it felt even hotter. We sang songs and did recitations, and at the end, Teacher made an announcement — “At a special examination held on May 13, Andrew Cameron passed the standard required for admission to a High School.” Andrew bowed and everyone clapped.

  We got out of school at 3:30 and the heat was fairly melting.

  In the evening I walked up the hill with Anne, thinking it would be cooler, but the mosquitoes were thick as pudding and we failed to find a breath of fresh air. We came back down and Papa built a smudge so we could sit on the verandah.

  Now Anne has gone home and my arm is so worn out from flapping at mosquitoes and smudge-smoke I can scarcely hold my pen. Good thing there is nothing more to write about.

  Friday, June 22

  103 degrees in the sun and 98 degrees in the shade. My brain feels sluggish and sticky, like Syrup of Squill’s. At least school is out. I won’t have to use my brain until the Fall.

  Saturday, June 23

  The cat is out of the bag. At dinner tonight Papa announced that Andrew will be going away to Victoria to attend High School. He will board with Mama’s cousins who recently arrived from England. Papa will accompany him in August and help him get settled.

  All through dinner Andrew looked like the cat that swallowed the canary, and not the least bit surprised. He must have known all along and never breathed a word. Now he speaks of nothing else. His entire future is planned — first, Victoria High School, then on to university to study medicine. In England, no less — or so he hopes.

  Andrew has clearly been thinking of more than hunting trips. Mama calls him “a dark horse.”

  Sunday, June 24

  Rained all night and into the morning. The rest of the day was blissfully cool and pleasant.

  My brothers have switched personalities. Toby scarcely says a word and mopes about with a face as long as a turnip. Andrew talks of nothing but his Glorious Future.

  Poor Toby. Is he sad because Andrew is going to Victoria or because he has to stay behind in Yale? Either way, he will miss Andrew.

  I miss Andrew already and he has not yet gone.

  Monday, June 25

  I’m home from Clara’s party and so full of strawberries and cream I could scarcely touch my dinner. At least, that is the excuse I gave Mama. It is not the whole reason. I feel sick inside because of a terrible row I had with Anne.

  We were walking home together, talking about this and that, happy as ca
n be — and suddenly something boiled up and over into a huge great mess of words and feelings.

  It started when Anne said, “I’m glad Rachel isn’t coming home for the holidays because then you and I can spend more time together.”

  I said, “What do you mean? Rachel is coming home in July and I’m going to Spuzzum.”

  “No,” she said, “Rachel has changed her mind. She is spending the entire summer with her new friends in Victoria.”

  Anne’s words hurt me to the bone. Was this true? Why had Rachel not told me? And how did Anne come to know of it?

  Well, it turns out Rachel’s mother was in the Chemist Shop the other day. Anne said hello — she had met her at the May 24th picnic — and asked after Rachel. She told Mrs. Perkins that I was really looking forward to going to their farm in July — she even said she wished that she could go, too. The cheek! I’d like to see Anne on a horse — bareback!

  Mrs. Perkins then told her she was surprised I hadn’t received a letter from Rachel, explaining her change of plans.

  By this time I was furious — with Rachel for not telling me, and with Anne, who seemed to enjoy telling me. “Why can’t you mind your own business?” I said angrily. “Talking behind my back — you interfering QUIDNUNC!”

  “That’s just like you, Kate!” She flared up, red in the face. “You and your big words that nobody understands! I don’t know why I ever wanted to be your friend.”