Paper Trees - Softcover

Sinclair, Roy

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0920576788 ISBN 13: 9780920576786

Publisher: Caitlin Press Inc., 1999

Synopsis

Set in the fictional logging community of Rainy Mountain somewhere east of Prince George, Paper Trees recalls the adventures of northern logging in the 1950s and early 1960s. It is a period of change in the woods - the small independent logging companies and sawmills were trying to hold their own against the forestry giants.

Desperation drives the protagonist Byron Smith to work at Rainy Mountain. Loyalty, intrigue and a captivating woman keep him there. The once-prosperous Rainy Mountain is threatened by the new 'use or lose' forestry quota system. Fear of losing the only home that this family has ever known wreaks havoc and Byron is forced to step in. He discovers much more than ways to recover economically - he learns of the mysterious disappearance of a young girl. Everyone becomes a suspect as the close-knit community seeks justice for such a horrifying crime. A page-turning story of hardship, mystery and adventure, with a captivating love triangle.

About this title

About the Author

Roy Sinclair now lives in Grasmere in the Kootenay region of British Columbia but grew up in the small but amazing community of Penny, BC. He has been, in his words, "bossing a logging crew for most of 45 years."

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Eventually the lights came on across at the cookhouse and I soon heard the flunkies preparing for breakfast and setting up the lunchroom where everyone who works away from camp through the day will make and pack their own lunches. I was in the cookshack well before they rang their bell and out again before most of the crew were even getting up. By the time Ember came in to sort the mail, I was seated on the fourwheel cart mostly just thinking of this and that. I was also quietly stacking cans of vegetable soup one on top another along a lower shelf at the back of the store trying to be as silent as possible. I am aware that this sounds like a novel pastime for the general manager but no one else seems to see anything untoward about it. Nor does anyone else appear inclined to do the job, so here I am and happy enough about it too - not so many headaches back here. Besides, Erin and Jennie are perfectly capable of running the office without anyone's help. Ember didn't see me as she came in and Jo hasn't arrived yet so the outside door is still locked.

Footsteps came in a hesitating manner from the direction of the office and I paused to listen, wondering who it was. It certainly wasn't Jo and it isn't the nature of Allan or Tom to be hesitant about anything. As I waited and watched, the sound of a mail bag being dumped came from the post office. Then a man walked slowly into the store from the hallway and darned if it isn't the stranger who came on the train last night, I had totally forgotten about him. And he isn't really hesitating, it's more that he is looking with keen interest at everything as he advances slowly toward the checkout counter.

There was a rip of paper in the post office then total silence for about ten seconds before Ember, thinking those quiet footsteps had been mine, called out with a strange urgency in her voice. Byron, did someone come on the train last night?"

The stranger, knowing whose footsteps she was hearing, answered before I could.

"Yes, Em - I did."

The door to the post office flew open and Ember, a sheet of yellow paper clutched in one hand and holding the doorknob as if for support with the other, stood there wide-eyed and scared. A wild young animal cornered and undecided whether to fight or flee. For two or three blinks of the eye the tableau held then broke.

"Peter!" She cried, and flung herself into his arms.

Even after what seemed to me an unnecessarily long and ardent embrace she continued to cling to him as though afraid he might disappear. I am distressed to see that she is crying as she presses her face against him. My unflappable girl is certainly undone this morning.

"Well, Em, I thought a telegram message would be phoned out from town. I see now that someone has goofed and my telegram and I have come on the same train.
While their attention was still on each other, I made my escape down the hall and after kicking and banging things around for a while I got down to the business of unloading Nightrider. I am surprised and dismayed at my reaction to the scene in the store and there is no ready explanation that I am willing to admit to. I have to think back a few years to remember the last time I so completely lost my composure. Now I have to remind myself that Ember is old enough to choose her own friends and may kiss whoever she pleases. She is no concern of mine-never has been and never will be. With that off my chest I still feel no better but at least it has been said.

I heard them in the hall before they came in sight and had, I hope, the right look of casual interest on my face as they came into the warehouse.

"Byron," Ember said with an anxious little catch in her voice that immediately caught my attention, "this is an old and very dear friend of mine, Peter Patten. And Peter, I want you to meet Byron Smith."

We shook hands rather mushily, I'm afraid, neither of us too impressed with the other. Ember, as she stood by, was actually wringing her hands. I don't know why she should feel such intense strain but I will hazard a guess - she wants me to like him. So I made the effort to smile warmly as I told him that I hope he has had a pleasant trip. I can see that he is puzzled too and impatient as Ember tells him that whatever he wants to know he can find out from me.

I wondered if he too can see that she has the fidgets. He made a little barely polite small talk then said he wanted to see if Tom and Allan have arrived in the office yet. As he led the way back to the hallway Ember threw me a look over her shoulder as she passed out of the room that quite frankly I didn't understand. I would almost swear that she was scared silly and was trying to warn me of something. What on earth is going on around here anyway? I actually found I was scratching my head in wonderment.

"Well," I shrugged, muttering under my breath, "five minutes ago you had yourself convinced they were none of your affair and I reckon that notion still holds water."

But I poked my head out the door to watch them go and I guess I shouldn't have done that because Ember is talking about me and with far too much intensity. Due to some strange acoustic quirk of the hallway I heard every word.

"Byron," she was saying, "is our local odd character, he has ears a foot long and a nose to match. He knows absolutely everything that happens in camp. He's up to his neck in everyone's business and if you don't look out he will soon be winding your watch for you."

I hope she is smiling as she tells him that I thought while gently exploring one ear with a finger tip.

There was nothing on Nightrider for the shop or any of the woods operations so when I finished unloading the few goods intended for the store I took the rest of the load over to the cookhouse which, after all, is our best customer. Then I slunk off to my room to get a bit of much needed shut-eye and of course, to think about Ember's revealing remark that obviously I wasn't supposed to hear. She is right, no doubt about it', I live and breathe on curiosity and satisfying that thirst for knowledge is what keeps me ticking. Sure, I'm meddling in their business but I thought they wanted me to. My many chores around camp put me in close personal touch not only with the Morrows but with the many other families living in the married quarters as well. But, really! Winding their watches? It's embarrassing in the extreme and all the more so because the tone of her voice leads me to wonder if she was making an apology for me.

I was able to sleep this time and it was way past noon when I awakened. The cookhouse crew are used to me prowling around on a different shift than everyone else, so getting lunch was no problem. They piled ten times what I could eat in front of me and then proceeded to pick my brains for all the latest news around camp. Anyone who thinks the ladies at their afternoon tea party have the monopoly on gossip just hasn't checked us out at the cookshack yet. The crew there seem to think that what I don't know isn't worth knowing and I do my best to keep from disappointing them.

That's where Peter found me, working on my fourth coffee. He filled a cup and joined me without any particular greeting. "Just who and what are you anyway?" His words were rough edged with suspicion and there was a hard glint of anger in his eyes.

I gave him my most innocent smile. "Why, don't you remember? I'm Byron Smith, the assistant bullcook." I confess it was on the tip of my tongue to say local watch winder, but I resisted.

"Baloney!" He snapped. "I've come home against my better judgment to try to do what appears to be the impossible because I owe it to John to at least try. I need to know everything about anything that's been going on here and every time I start asking pertinent questions all I get is lifted shoulders and the suggestion to 'ask Byron about that."'

"Well," I said reasonably, "Ember told you."

"I know, but I didn't understand, I didn't realize then that the flunky ran the outfit."

"Assistant bullcook," I corrected.

"Whatever. But you weren't here when I left five or six," he paused, looked a little startled, "or more, years ago and I've never heard so much as boo about you. And yet I come home to find Allan and Tom happily doing their own thing and you - a total stranger-seem to have stepped straight into John's shoes. Now I'd like an explanation, something simple and logical that I can understand." Signs of suspicion and distrust fairly oozed from him as he waited for my answer.

I sighed without intending to. "That could be a tall order because I don't understand it myself."

"Well, I'd like to hear you give it a try!"

So I tried to tell him about being the Invisible Man only I didn't use that silly phrase. I gave him a sketchy rundown starting back when I was in the wreck with Terry and coming right up to the present. I can understand his distrust easily enough but as I finished my story I saw no lessening of hostility. I wound up lamely, "Sometimes I wonder if because I was with Terry when he died, his family think either that they owe me or I owe them, I'm not sure which. There have been times I've almost thought that they, John in particular, see me as Terry in a different form and by a different name."

I could just about hear the click in his head as the light of understanding came on behind his eyes. Instantly he relaxed and even smiled. "Of course! I should have thought of that. To a Morrow mind that would be right as rain and twice as beneficial."

Just like that! I can see and feel that I am now accepted by him as completely as only a moment ago I was unacceptable. To myself I said he's been around the Morrows; too long and thinks just like them, in fact he's worse, it took four years to work my way into their lives and only four minutes with him.

"Know what, Byron?"

I looked up cautiously to find him grinning widely. "What?"

"I like your style."

And there you are! This man, who is here to steal Ember away from us, who is right now stealing my job and will make sure I remain no more than assistant bullcook, has the unmitigated gall to tell me he likes my style! Would he like my thoughts if he could read them? I hope he cannot sense the amazement and turmoil that swirl in my mind - I do not wish him success-yet I want Rainy Mountain to survive and prosper. I said he was stealing Ember but it's plain enough she has been waiting for him all along. As for my job, it's only the management part he wants, that much he can have and good riddance to it. He won't want Nightrider and all the associated follow-up work that goes with my self-appointed title of assistant bullcook. To me that's the part that counts so why should I be unhappy? I guess because demotion is still demotion, and no matter how welcome it may be it's still disturbing and demeaning. I would gladly have given the job away but I do not like it being taken just like that. I know there will be some hard mental adjustments for me to make.

About this edition

• Publisher: Caitlin Press Inc.
• Publication date: 1999
• ISBN 10: 0920576788
• ISBN 13: 9780920576786
• Binding: Paperback
• Language: English
• Number of pages: 246