called on to testify, then I’ll do so. It is my duty.”
“Oui. Mais...but what will you say to the judge? You have many friends who are heathens. Perhaps you will lie tike your Chinese friends.”
“I will not lie.”
“But your friends, they will tell many lies about me.”
“The witnesses will tell the truth,” I said.
“Celestials? Non. They lie. Always. It is their nature.”
“That’s not true. Besides, at a trial everyone must tell the truth. They have to swear to it on the Bible.”
He laughed. “What means the Bible to heathens? They swear only on a burnt piece of paper. They mock the Bible. You have not had dealings with Chinamen. You do not know their evil ways.”
“They’re not—” I began.
“You are a boy. You know nothing.” He moved closer, his face only inches from mine. I could smell liquor on his breath, and the seasonings of what he had eaten for lunch-garlic, onions, a sour odour. I stepped back, but he drew nearer again.
“So, you must do what all other white men would do. You will say I harmed no one, that I did not kill the Chinaman.”
“I don’t know whether or not you did. I saw nothing except Ah Mow’s body.”
“Oui. You saw nothing, tu comprends? So you will tell the judge nothing. Make sure you do not forget that.” He finally let me push past him. “Au revoir, boy who is almost docteur” he called to me. “Remember, you saw nothing. You will say nothing.”
By the time I reached home, the rain had begun. It was heavy, and my boots were coated in mud. I scraped them well before I went into the house, as if I were trying to remove all thoughts of Henri Tremblay. I wasn’t afraid of him. I would not let myself be afraid.
The next morning I casually asked Peter, “Are you sure Mr. Tremblay isn’t here in town?”
He looked at me curiously. “No one sees him. Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” I said. I resolved to forget about the Frenchman, not to think about him at all.
It wasn’t too hard to forget; there were many other things to keep me occupied. Pa and I were very busy in the shop, working much later in the evening than we usually did. And even though I was often tired after work, Peter and I practised almost every day. Some days I would leave Peter to practise yet again with the Cariboo Glee Club.
Excitement was high in the town; the Cariboo Sentinel was full of information about the events that would take place on Dominion Day. Each issue of the newspaper had more information about the celebrations—the cannon would be fired at ten in the morning, then there would be inspirational speakers, then selections would be sung by the Cariboo Glee Club. The sports would start at eleven o’clock and continue throughout the day. At noon a royal salute would be fired, and in the evening there would be a special performance at the Theatre Royal by the Cariboo Dramatic Association. Later in the night there would be a grand illumination with lights and decorations in shop windows, and then there would be the fireworks, which I would watch with Jenny.
The horse races were attracting a lot of attention—and wagering—between friends and neighbours. The competition would be stiff for these events—for the awards were high. The Cariboo Purse carried with it a prize of fifty dollars, and the Dominion Day Race winner would take away the grand sum of a hundred and fifty dollars. No jockeys were allowed; the owners had to ride their own horses.
The main road was cleaned and gravelled, making sure it would be in good shape for the celebrations. The horse racers were warned severely not to practise on that road. The members of the Dominion Day Street Committee had worked hard and didn’t want to clean up after more than the usual horse traffic.
One article in the Sentinel made me laugh, for I well remembered the chaos during the past year’s foot races. SHUT UP YOUR DOGS FOR THE RACES read the headline. “On previous occasions they have proved an intolerable nuisance,” the piece continued. “A serious accident might occur during the races, owing to some of these canine favourites insisting on taking a share in the sport.” Last year several of the animals had participated, without either paying their entry fee or being invited to race. There had been a great deal of shouting and barking, and contestants, dogs, race officials, and spectators all ended up in an enormous seething mass of legs, heads, and tails that filled the street and boiled up onto the boardwalks.
This year a platform had been built on the main street, draped with branches of evergreens and decorated with scarlet banners and gold maple leaves. The speakers and musicians, as well as some honoured spectators, would view the activities from this high perch. Everything was in the final stages of preparation, and Barkerville was more than ready to celebrate.
Peter and I practised one last time on the evening of June 30. The hopeful winners of the horse races had moved their practice area to the same street where Peter and I raced, so we dodged flying hooves as well as steaming droppings as we ran.
“Enough, sir...Ted,” Peter said, stopping to clean his boot. “We have practised enough. You are ready to run. I am ready to stop.”
I untied the scarf that bound our legs, agreeing with him. Although Dominion Day was tomorrow and I had heard nothing from Joseph Morrison, Jenny assured me he would be there well before the start of the race.
“He will nae come to town until late the night before,” she said. “But I know he’s a swift runner. I feel sure the two of you will win.”
I wasn’t so certain. “Where will I meet him? How will I recognize him?”
“If you’ll be at your father’s shop, I’ll bring him to you. The Three-Legged Race is to take place early in the sports program. I’ll make sure Joseph is there just after eleven o’clock.”
“I’ll be there,” I said. “I’ve been practising hard. I only hope Joseph is as well prepared.”
“Do not worry yourself about Joseph,” Jenny said. “He will nae let you down.”
Ten
The morning of July 1, 1871, dawned clear and bright. Not a cloud threatened to hide the sun’s face, the soft breeze carried not a hint of rain. It was a glorious day to celebrate, though it appeared that many had begun festivities the day before. All night long carriages and horses went past our house as people made their way down the hill to the saloons of Barkerville, and the sounds of revelry carried back up the hill until the early-morning hours. Some of the racers would find themselves with headaches today, I thought, wondering hopefully if the others entered in the Three-Legged Race would be among the sufferers.
But I had had a good night’s sleep and, well before ten in the morning, I was on the platform with the rest of the Glee Club, waiting. At ten o’clock exactly a cannon was fired, the noise and smoke signalling to all that the ceremonies had started. We all sang “God Save the Queen” and followed with a rousing three cheers for Her Majesty. Then the politicians spoke, but luckily only briefly, and the Glee Club performed. After three loud cheers for the Dominion and much applause, the first of the races was announced.
I left the platform
