Free Barkerville Gold by Dayle Gaetz Page B

hurt more now than it did the night before
    By late morning they were back in Barkerville. Gram consulted the schedule of events. “We’ve missed this morning’s guided tour of the town,” she said. “And the schoolhouse demonstration has already started. If we run the entire distance to Richfield, we might catch Judge Begbie’s session in the courthouse.”
    â€œBut it’s uphill all the way,” GJ pointed out. “Aren’t all those demonstrations on again this afternoon?”
    Gram nodded. “But I want to see the show at the Theatre Royal today.”
    â€œFair enough, but there’s always tomorrow. How about walking up the trail to the cemetery at Camerontown?”
    â€œGee—that sure sounds like fun.” Katie wrinkled her forehead. “Nothing like visiting a whole pile of dead guys.”
    â€œI want to see Billy Barker’s original mine,” Rusty said. “This entire town was built around the shaft where Barker first stuck paydirt back in 1862, so it’s kind of important.”
    â€œListen,” GJ told them, “if you kids promise not to let each other out of your sight and to stay inside the town, you can visit where you want while Gram and I walk up to the cemetery.”
    After agreeing to meet in front of the Lung Duck Tong Restaurant at 12:30, Rusty and the two girls set off on their own. Finally they had a chance to talk privately.
    â€œSo, Rusty,” Katie asked, “did you see him again?”
    â€œWho? Three Finger?” He shook his head. “Did you?”
    â€œNo,” Katie admitted. “I fell asleep.”
    â€œMe too,” Sheila said, “right after Rusty started snoring.”
    Rusty didn’t object. If everyone thought he snored, it could be they were right. After all, he was asleep at the time, so how was he to know?
    They started down the main street, Sheila with her nose in a tourist map. They were passing W.D. Moses’ barbershop when she said, “If we cut through here, between the barbershop and Dr. Watt’s office, we can see where the fire started. At least, I think we can.”
    Rusty studied her suspiciously, wondering if Sheila had developed a sudden interest in history. “Okay, what’s the catch?”
    â€œNo catch, just a monument.”
    They made a sharp left turn onto short grass between the two small buildings and soon found themselves on Barkerville’s back street.
    â€œWell, I don’t know.” Sheila glanced around. “I thought it was here.”
    â€œLook, over there!” Rusty pointed to a small wooden sign stuck in the grass between the Wake-Up Jake and the barbershop. Katie ran over and Rusty limped behind her.
    The sign explained that on the night of September 16, 1868, most of Barkerville was destroyed by fire. “I already knew that,” Rusty said. “People think it started in Barry and Adler’s Saloon, so that’s where we should go next, to Barry and Adler’s. Let’s see the map.”
    They glanced around. “Where’s Sheila?” Katie asked.
    There was no sign of her. They returned to the quiet back street and looked up and down. “There she is!” Rusty pointed down the road where Sheila was leaning on a fence in front of a paddock, watching some big, handsome horses with gleaming brown coats.
    â€œSomehow I didn’t think she had a burning desire to see where the fire started,” Rusty chuckled. “Get it? Burning des—”
    â€œShh!” Katie warned, staring in the opposite direction. “Look!”
    Across the grass, beyond the wooden sign, a thin figure scurried out from between two tall, narrow buildings.
    â€œIt’s Frizzy Hair.” Rusty whispered. Her shoulders were stooped forward, just as yesterday, as if she were clutching something close against her stomach. She skimmed over the grass, cutting behind the Kelly House Bed &Breakfast.