Shortly after our meal, when we were sitting having coffee, Pauline arrived. Johnnie would meet me at 150 Mile House to-morrow evening or, if he couldn’t make it, the following morning. She had other news, too. A stranger had arrived at the Golden Calf. He wasn’t a fisherman and he was busy plying Mac with drinks and pumping him about our activities in the Kingdom. Boy’s visit to Calgary and Edmonton was evidently bearing fruit.
That night I slept in the Victorian grandeur of a feather bed. It was Sarah Garret’s room. She had moved in with her sister for the night. It was not a large room and it was cluttered with heavy, painted furniture, the marble mantelpiece and the dressing-table littered with china bric-a-brac. The bedstead was a heavy iron affair adorned with brass. For a long time I lay awake looking at the stars, conscious of the smell of the room that took me back to my childhood — it was a compound of lavender and starch and lace. My mind was busy, going over and over the possibilities of packing the necessary fuel up to the Kingdom. And then just as I was dropping off to sleep I heard the door open. A figure came softly into the room and stood beside my bed, looking down at me.
It was Sarah Garret. I could just see the tiny outline of her head against the window. ‘Are you awake?’ she asked. Her voice trembled slightly.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Then light a candle please.’
I got out of bed, wrapping a blanket round me, and found my lighter. As the thin light of the candle illuminated the room I turned to her, wondering why she was here, what had driven her to this nocturnal escapade. She took the candlestick from me, her hand trembling and spilling grease. ‘I have something to show you,’ she said.
She crossed over to a big trunk in the corner. It was one of those great leather-covered things with a curved top. There was a jingle of keys and then she had it open and was lifting the lid. It was full of clothes and the smell of lavender and mothballs was very strong. ‘Will you lift the tray out, please?’
I did as she asked. Underneath were more clothes. Her joints creaked slightly as she bent and began to lift them out. Dresses of satin and silk piled up on the floor, beautiful lace-edged nightgowns, a dressing gown that was like something out of Madame Butterfly, a parasol, painted ivory fans, necklaces of onyx and amber, a bedspread of the finest needlework.
At last the trunk was empty. With trembling fingers she felt around the edges. There was a click and the bottom moved. She took the candle from me then. ‘Lift it out, please.’
The false bottom of that trunk was of steel and quite heavy. And underneath were neat little tin boxes. She lifted the lid of one. It was filled with gold coins. There were several bars of gold wrapped in tissue paper, and another box contained gold dust. The last one she opened revealed several pieces of jewellery. ‘I have never shown anybody this,’ she said.
‘Why have you shown me?’ I asked.
She looked up at me. She had a brooch in her hand. It was gold studded with amethyst, and the amethysts matched the colour of her eyes and both gleamed as brightly in the candlelight. ‘This was my favourite.’
‘Why have you shown me all this?’ I asked again.
She sighed and put the brooch back. Then she signalled me to replace the false bottom. She operated the hidden catch fixing it in position and then returned the clothes to the trunk. When the lid was finally down and locked she pulled herself to her feet. She was crying gently and dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. ‘That is all I have left of my father,’ she said, her voice trembling slightly. ‘He made it in the Come Lucky mine and when he died that was my share. There was more, of course, but we have had to live.’
‘You mean that was how he left you his money?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. He did not believe in banks and modern innovations like that. He liked to see what he had made. My sister-’ She sighed and blew her nose delicately. ‘My sister thought she knew better. She was engaged to a man in Vancouver and he invested it for her. She lost it all. The stocks were no good.’
‘And her fiance?’
She gave a little shrug. ‘The man was no good either.’
‘Why have you told me this? Why have you shown me where you keep your money?’
She stared at me for a moment and then she gave me a beautiful little smile. ‘Because I like you,’ she said. ‘I had a — friend once. He was rather like you. A Scotsman. But he was already married.’ She got to her feet. ‘I must go now. I do not want my sister to know that I have done anything so naughty as visiting a man in his bedroom.’ Her eyes twinkled at me. And then she touched my arm. ‘I am an old lady now. There has been very little in my life. You remember the parable of the talents? Now that I am old I see that I have made too little use of the money my father gave me. Jean told us what had happened up in the Kingdom. I would like to you to know that you do not have to worry about money. You only have to ask-’
‘I couldn’t possibly-’ I began, but she silenced me.
‘Don’t be silly. It is no good to me and I would like to help.’ She hesitated and then smiled. ‘Stuart Campbell was the friend I spoke about. Now perhaps you understand. Goodnight.’
I watched her as she went out and then I sat down on the bed, staring at the old leather trunk with a strong desire to cry. I still remember every detail of that visit from Sarah Garret and I treasure it as one of the most beautiful memories I have.
A few hours later I left. The house was silent and as I walked down through the shacks of Come Lucky the sky was just beginning to pale over Solomon’s Judgment. I walked along the lake-shore and waited for a truck coming down from Slide Camp. It took me as far as Hydraulic and from there I got a timber wagon down to 150 Mile House. Jean was to take my horse back up to the Kingdom and now that I was on my own I found a mood of depression creeping over me.
But when Johnnie arrived everything was different. He came with a couple of Americans. They were on holiday and they regarded the whole thing as a game, part of the fun of being in the Rockies a long way from their offices in Chicago. As soon as they knew the situation they got on the phone to a whole list of farmers along the valley. But we soon discovered that though horses were easy to hire it was difficult to get them complete with packing gear. The farms were widely dispersed and the better part of a week had passed before we had a total of twenty-six animals with gear coralled at a homestead a few miles west of Beaver Dam Lake.
On the 15th July we moved them up to the entrance to Thunder Creek and the following morning, as arranged, we rendezvoused with the vehicle trucking in our containers. It took us over 24 hours to pack that first 500 gallons up to the Kingdom. Every four hours we off-loaded and let the animals rest. It was back-breaking work and the weather was bad with several thunderstorms and thick mist on the slopes of the Saddle. Without Johnnie I should have turned back, but he seemed to be able to smell the trail out through mist and blinding hail. And the men who were hiring him to show them the Rockies were in high spirits, always anticipating worse conditions that we actually experienced, apparently thoroughly happy to combine pleasure with some real outdoor work.