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purpose toward the Lonesome Moose. Chuck
turned back to the plane to assist Thomas in disembarking. The man was shaky
and a mess. He’d apparently caught the majority of his gorge in some form of
container but still a fair amount of it ended up on his uniform. Extracting a
t-shirt from his own luggage, Chuck began to clean Thomas up the best he could
while the recruit recovered his land legs.
    “Officer Goodhead, I feel the need to apologize for my
deplorable actions during the flight,” Thomas began.
    Chuck held his hand up to interrupt the needless apology and
kept cleaning. He turned when he felt he could no longer ignore the crowd of
townspeople who had gathered to welcome the arrival of the Wings’ plane. The
first two people he noticed were the Braids and Little Davey McIntyre, the town
grocers.
    “Amy, Davey, I’d like to introduce you to Officer Thomas Merryweather
of the RCMP. He’ll be staying with us for the next week to complete his outback
training.”
    “Hello, Amy, Davey,” Thomas said courteously. He didn’t
argue about the use of first names. Perhaps he could learn after all.
    “Hi, Tom. I hear you’re an officious prig,” Davey replied.
Then he added something in Gaelic that Chuck was pretty sure was even more
insulting.
    The grocers both laughed and walked past the Mounties to the
plane to see about their supplies.
    “ Good Lord, who made this horrible mess in here? ” the
Braids called back in Gaelic when she’d reached the plane.
    “Way to go, numb nuts,” Whisky Jack chortled as he strolled
past the recruit to help lug supplies from the plane, for which he’d be paid
his daily snootful.
    The others that were nearby sneered, some went so far as to
spit on the ground, and then they walked away.
    “Welcome to the Gulch,” Chuck told Thomas. “It’s the town
where strangers aren’t sacred.”
    By the expression on his face, there was no doubt that
Thomas had been crushed by his first encounter with the citizenry of McIntyre’s
Gulch. He straightened his hat and adjusted his uniform self-consciously. Chuck
didn’t know what to say except that some lessons have to be learned the hard
way, though even for the Gulch this was excessive. Something was going on.
    “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Chuck said. “Amy, we’ll
be back for our luggage. I’m taking the lad to his room in the Lonesome Moose
to get him cleaned up.”
    “ Check with the Flowers. They have guests at the Moose ,”
she answered without explaining and the Mountie felt the first moments of
unease.
    It appeared from the number of people in the street that
some sort of meeting had just broken up at the community hall. The people who
passed eyed the new Mountie suspiciously. Thomas tipped his hat and nodded to
each individual they passed, saying something cordial under his breath. A few
answered in Gaelic. Madge Brightwater almost smiled.
    “I’ve never seen the likes of it,” Thomas commented to
Chuck.
    “What’s that,” Chuck replied.
    “The red hair.”
    Chuck had to look at the crowded street for a moment before
he saw it. Nearly everyone in the street had red hair. He’d grown so used to
the sight that he hardly noticed. Now he saw it as Thomas was seeing it for the
first time. It was an extraordinary sight.
    They had nearly made it to the front door of the Lonesome
Moose when someone grabbed Chuck by the coat sleeve. He turned to see the
concerned face of his newlywed wife looking up at him.
    “ We need to talk ,” said Butterscotch, who never spoke
Gaelic to him. She then turned her eyes to Thomas and managed a warm but wan
smile. “Welcome to the Gulch.”
    Good Lord, Chuck thought. Who’s died this time?
     

Chapter 3
     
    Thomas had changed into his version of casual clothing,
which involved a shirt and trousers with ironed creases. There were few people
in the pub that evening since everyone knew we needed to let the surveyors—and
our new Mountie—get a good night’s sleep.
    The