lantern, and Byrneâs face appears. He looks shocked to see her.
14
The next morning Elspeth finds an envelope from Byrne left for her at the front desk of the chalet. She tears it open. Inside, a small filing card.
Miss Fletcher:
I hoped to see you today, but Iâve been called to an accident down the line.
Ned Byrne
She turns the page over. Nothing else.
I hoped to see you today.
15
The morning he left the note for Elspeth, Byrne was taken on a handcar to the construction site. There had been an accidental dynamite blast. A man, the foreman told him, had been nailed to the rock cut by a flying spike.
The injured man stood upright, as if resting against the rock face, the rest of the crewmen gathered in a half-circle around him. He whispered to himself, his right arm held outstretched, the fingers of his pinioned hand opening and closing around the spike. Examining him, Byrne found he had been struck in the abdomen as well, probably by a fragment of rock.
When Byrne probed the stomach wound, the man opened his eyes. He screamed once, a brief, hoarse cry of agony, and fainted.
There was no morphine. Byrne administered bromide of potassium as a sedative. He decided it would be best to wait for the end and then cut him down.
Towards evening the man woke up again. One of the crewmen cut a makeshift crucifix out of blue paper. He held it up to the injured man, who fixed his eyes on it, his lips moving noiselessly.
The vigil beside the dying man lasted into the night. The man who had held up the blue paper cross stayed with Byrne after the others drifted away. He stroked the injured manâs head and answered him softly when he spoke out in fitful moments of consciousness. The speech of the two men lapsed in and out of Italian, a language Byrne did not know, although he caught a few familiar words.
Maria. Acqua. Madre.
Finally he realized the men were brothers.
At dawn, Byrne woke to the sound of a giant heartbeat. He lifted his head from the roll of canvas he had been dozing fitfully against. The section crew was back at work, hammering down the rails.
The manâs brother stood over him. He held out his hand and helped Byrne to his feet. Byrne took the magnifying lens from his satchel and held it to the manâs mouth. There was no condensation.
The crewmen stopped work and came over when they saw Byrne. He left the body in their care and walked stiffly alongside the track to the cluster oftents beside the lake. The water glittered with fragments of sun. Cloud shadows slid across the white dunes. A glorious morning.
Byrne found coffee and a leftover bread roll in the empty mess tent. He ate quickly and then wrote out his report. Later the section foreman came in, sat down beside Byrne, and began to talk.
He had once helped build a railroad into the gold fields of Colombia. There, the trains often came under attack by bandits. The gold-carrying cars had to be sheathed in steel and guarded by armed men. But then it often happened that the overloaded trains, and the rails themselves, were swallowed up in the swamps.
âHere, the foreman said, thereâs nothing. No gold in the rocks, in the rivers. Nothing but grass and wind. Why put in a railroad?
From outside, the shriek of a hawk. The two men looked past the tent flap snapping in the wind, at the bright wedge of sunlit dunes.
16
The foremanâs tale, which Byrne set down in his notebook as he rode the handcar back to town:
It happened years before, on the Canadian Pacificrailhead far to the south, in the Kicking Horse Pass.
To the foremanâs crew, the Swan glacier resembled a woman in flowing skirts. They nicknamed her Anastasia, joked about the spunk that would be needed to thaw her icy disdain. One night the foreman saw this ice maiden at the window of his hut. Like moonlight she entered his sleeping compartment. She glided down to where he lay, whispering softly, and kissed him with frozen lips.
In the morning, the rail crew
14
The next morning Elspeth finds an envelope from Byrne left for her at the front desk of the chalet. She tears it open. Inside, a small filing card.
Miss Fletcher:
I hoped to see you today, but Iâve been called to an accident down the line.
Ned Byrne
She turns the page over. Nothing else.
I hoped to see you today.
15
The morning he left the note for Elspeth, Byrne was taken on a handcar to the construction site. There had been an accidental dynamite blast. A man, the foreman told him, had been nailed to the rock cut by a flying spike.
The injured man stood upright, as if resting against the rock face, the rest of the crewmen gathered in a half-circle around him. He whispered to himself, his right arm held outstretched, the fingers of his pinioned hand opening and closing around the spike. Examining him, Byrne found he had been struck in the abdomen as well, probably by a fragment of rock.
When Byrne probed the stomach wound, the man opened his eyes. He screamed once, a brief, hoarse cry of agony, and fainted.
There was no morphine. Byrne administered bromide of potassium as a sedative. He decided it would be best to wait for the end and then cut him down.
Towards evening the man woke up again. One of the crewmen cut a makeshift crucifix out of blue paper. He held it up to the injured man, who fixed his eyes on it, his lips moving noiselessly.
The vigil beside the dying man lasted into the night. The man who had held up the blue paper cross stayed with Byrne after the others drifted away. He stroked the injured manâs head and answered him softly when he spoke out in fitful moments of consciousness. The speech of the two men lapsed in and out of Italian, a language Byrne did not know, although he caught a few familiar words.
Maria. Acqua. Madre.
Finally he realized the men were brothers.
At dawn, Byrne woke to the sound of a giant heartbeat. He lifted his head from the roll of canvas he had been dozing fitfully against. The section crew was back at work, hammering down the rails.
The manâs brother stood over him. He held out his hand and helped Byrne to his feet. Byrne took the magnifying lens from his satchel and held it to the manâs mouth. There was no condensation.
The crewmen stopped work and came over when they saw Byrne. He left the body in their care and walked stiffly alongside the track to the cluster oftents beside the lake. The water glittered with fragments of sun. Cloud shadows slid across the white dunes. A glorious morning.
Byrne found coffee and a leftover bread roll in the empty mess tent. He ate quickly and then wrote out his report. Later the section foreman came in, sat down beside Byrne, and began to talk.
He had once helped build a railroad into the gold fields of Colombia. There, the trains often came under attack by bandits. The gold-carrying cars had to be sheathed in steel and guarded by armed men. But then it often happened that the overloaded trains, and the rails themselves, were swallowed up in the swamps.
âHere, the foreman said, thereâs nothing. No gold in the rocks, in the rivers. Nothing but grass and wind. Why put in a railroad?
From outside, the shriek of a hawk. The two men looked past the tent flap snapping in the wind, at the bright wedge of sunlit dunes.
16
The foremanâs tale, which Byrne set down in his notebook as he rode the handcar back to town:
It happened years before, on the Canadian Pacificrailhead far to the south, in the Kicking Horse Pass.
To the foremanâs crew, the Swan glacier resembled a woman in flowing skirts. They nicknamed her Anastasia, joked about the spunk that would be needed to thaw her icy disdain. One night the foreman saw this ice maiden at the window of his hut. Like moonlight she entered his sleeping compartment. She glided down to where he lay, whispering softly, and kissed him with frozen lips.
In the morning, the rail crew
Similar Books
![Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1]](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.com/447568/thumbs/152x264/taming-heather-cariboo-lunewulf-1.jpg)