Judgement By Fire Read Online Free PDF Page A

Logging’s gone, and so have the paper mills.
    “There’s
nothing here, anymore, but tourism. And the trouble with tourism is it’s not
reliable. You can’t do your planning on it. Oh, I know there have been a few
good years; there are lots of artsy-fartsy types coming in to gawk at the
artists-at-work and to take part in the festivals. But what we want is to get
noticed by some proper industry.”
    “And you call
a glorified fat farm a proper industry?” snarled Roger Wellman.
    “No, but you
know and I know that Rush Co. has the dollars, has the industrial variety, to
come up with something more, something nitty-gritty, jobs we can get our teeth
into. Not summer jobs and namby-pamby stuff for the tourists from the city that
leave us out of work half the year. Real jobs, folks, regular pay packets and
plenty of them. No more drawing government dole all winter and seeing our young
‘uns take off to Toronto or Vancouver or Calgary.
    “Yet here we
all are, wanting to throw jobs away, industrial taxes and extra customers and
everything that goes with it, wanting to throw them all away as if we were
Toronto and didn’t need the work or the money. Well, you must all be mad. A
little co-operation here could mean work, neighbors: construction jobs,
cleaning jobs, maintenance jobs. I say this proposal is good for West River and
we should welcome Rush Co. with open arms.”
    Turner turned
and walked out of the hall, slamming the heavy old church door behind him. Off
to the side Lauren heard Roger mutter, “That old bastard always knew how to
make a dramatic exit”.
    An excited
buzz started among the people in the audience. Finally, a woman on the front
row stood up.
    “Harry’s
right, you know. It’s not just us. There are our kids, too. They need jobs. My
Peter’s already talking about moving away to look for work, and he’s not even
out of grade eleven.” There were grunts of sympathy and approval from around
her.
    “Has anyone
actually suggested that Rush Co. would put something more our way if the luxury
holiday place goes ahead?” asked another woman from the front row.
    Lauren was on
her feet then, propelled by anger before even the smattering of applause had
died down. Her deep, clear voice reached easily through the hall.
    “I know how
hard it is for the young people—how hard it’s always been. How many of you have
friends who moved away for jobs—in fact, how many moved away and never came
back? But welcome Rush Co. with open arms? I say we should tell them where to
get off.
    “How many
people from this community will get jobs at this facility? A few cleaners,
maybe, and groundskeepers, the odd maintenance job. Maybe there’ll be work
contracting for renovations and alterations, but how long will that last? A few
months? One good year? And then what? If you’re lucky, a few minimum wage jobs,
cleaning rooms and cottages and cutting brush. Other than that, nothing. No
tourists, no seasonal work, not even a safe place to fish for your supper or
catch a rabbit or two.”
    “But the paper
said they’d employ fifty people, full time,” the woman replied.
    “And how many
people here are qualified in this very rarefied branch of the hospitality
industry? This isn’t a bed-and-breakfast set up, you know. They want nutrition
experts, masseuses, physiotherapists, exercise therapists—all that kind of
thing. Is your son a qualified sports psychologist? How many people here have
these qualifications?” Lauren shot back. Her question met with silence. “That’s
right, no one. And that’s how many will get good permanent jobs at the site.”
    “It’s all
right for you, Miss Stephens; you don’t have a problem with jobs like the rest
of us. No matter what happens, you can still paint your pictures,” a man called
from the back of the hall.
    Lauren smiled.
“What would I paint? There’s not much of a market for scenes of tall privacy
fences or No Trespass signs in the wild. Of course, maybe I could