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any at Holt City.”
    Wilcox looked at Durrant as he sipped his coffee. “Sergeant, you and I both know that wherever there are men working, there is whiskey. It’s just the way it is. Is it a problem at Holt City? I haven’t seen evidence of it. Do I make it my business to meddle with it? So long as it ain’t disrupting business, then I got other problems more pressing.”
    â€œIt’s your job, Mr. Wilcox.”
    The man glared at Durrant.
    â€œAs a representative of the CPR , it’s your job to meddle.”
    â€œI don’t take kindly to you telling me what my job is, Sergeant Wallace.”
    â€œI’m certain you don’t, but the fact of the matter is, I’ve seen more than one man killed ’cause he stuck his nose into a moonshine operation.”
    â€œYou think that’s what happened to Deek?”
    â€œIt’s possible. Tell me what Deek’s responsibilities were.”
    â€œHe was site foreman for my blasting operations. He was going to be in charge of blasting out the right of way for the Tote Road, for the mainline, and for the tunnels and platforms on the Upper Kicking Horse.”
    â€œSo he was in a position of authority.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œAs a CPR man, he too had a responsibility to meddle in moonshine operations; to report any violations to you, and to the Mounties.”
    â€œI guess he did.”
    â€œDid he ever report any violations to you?”
    â€œI don’t recall ever hearing a word from Deek Penner about moonshine,” Wilcox said immediately. Durrant watched him a moment. An awkward silence filled the tiny room.
    â€œYou’re certain?”
    â€œI don’t ever recall.”
    â€œThat’s different than he didn’t ever report anything, isn’t it?”
    â€œWhat exactly are you getting at, Sergeant?” said the General Manager, his eyes tightening, his lips thin.
    â€œThis morning in the mess I could smell the stench of whiskey on a man who passed me. If it’s that obvious to me, then it seems that it must be obvious to just about anybody who cares to look, Deek Penner included. And you as well, sir.”
    Wilcox drank from his coffee. He’s stalling for time, thought Durrant.
    â€œOf course there is whiskey here,” Wilcox finally said. “I never said there wasn’t. I told you it’s in the nature of a camp like Holt City to have a little whiskey from time to time. Probably comes in from Fort Calgary with the mail. Who knows? Did Deek Penner know about it? Likely. Did he care? I can’t say. But I know for certain that Deek Penner had his hands full with preparing for the spring push down the Kicking Horse, and unless someone was messing with his explosives, it seems pretty unlikely that he would give a damn about a little booze in the camp.”
    Durrant nodded. “Well, we’ll never know for certain what Deek Penner cared for and didn’t.” He turned awkwardly in his chair and looked about the tiny window behind him. “Tell me more about Penner’s job, sir.”
    â€œHe was a foreman, as I already said.”
    â€œAnd he was on the CPR roll?”
    â€œHe was on my contract. I suppose in a manner of speaking we all are on the CPR roll.”
    â€œWhat exactly was his job?”
    â€œHe started as a blaster. He worked the mainline when we did the millage along the Lakehead north of Superior. He was the best blaster I had in my crew, and so when the men I work for won the Kicking Horse contract, I asked him to come on as foreman. He’d have been supervising the crews that will be blasting the line down the Kicking Horse Pass. There’ll be two or three hundred men working along that section just on the munitions side of things come the spring.”
    â€œIt sounds like a big job.”
    â€œIt is. Out on the prairie it was all about speed, how much track a team could lay