Sundown on Top of the World: A Hunter Rayne Highway Mystery Read Online Free
Author: R.E. Donald
Twist her arm behind her back? Threaten her with a rifle? How do you make a granny tell you something she doesn’t want you to know?”
They had both laughed, it sounded so absurd.
Goldie entered the lodge’s laundry room, thinking about Tessa. They had been close friends at that time, told each other everything and could almost read each other’s minds. Living upriver in the Yukon Territory, Goldie’s only companions had been Gran and her dogs. On Gran’s orders, she barely spoke to the occasional visitors – the smelly, bewhiskered trappers or hunters – that showed up at the cabin, since Gran somehow never let her be alone with them and would often give her a quiet chore to do when they were around. So becoming friends with Tessa had been precious to her, akin to a first love. They exchanged whispers before class, passed furtive notes during school hours, and found secret places to sit and talk during breaks and after school. Then school was over and Gran kept Goldie busy all summer: fishing, bringing home firewood, helping with the tanning, cutting and sewing of skins, tending to the dogs or chickens and working in the vegetable garden. She only saw Tessa once or twice that last summer, and that’s when Tessa announced she had a boyfriend.
Her old friend now had two children and lived with her husband, Sam, in a two bedroom house in Eagle Village. She and Tessa didn’t have much to talk about when they ran into each other at the post office. College was never mentioned, nor was travelling. It was usually just, “How’re the kids?” and “How’s your gran?” and “Friggin’ cold today, isn’t it?” Funny how people could grow apart. Maybe if Goldie had a husband and children, they would have more in common and be close friends again. But if living here with Gran was a cage, having a husband and children here would be like a prison, a life sentence. Goldie shivered at the thought, then opened the clothes dryer to check if the bed sheets for Yukon Sally’s ‘Caribou Cabin’ were dry.
– – – – – THREE
New Westminster, BC - June 1997
Hunter was scrubbing at dried white and grey seagull shit, splattered like Rorschach inkblots on the hood of his navy blue Freightliner, when he heard his dispatcher yell across the yard at him from an open door on the loading dock. With the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat from under his brows, but not in time to keep it from stinging his eyes as he raised his head. It was early afternoon on an unusually hot day in June and he was washing his truck in full sun behind the Watson Transportation warehouse.
“Get in here!” Elspeth Watson had a very loud voice, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. “Now!” she bellowed over her shoulder as she walked back into the warehouse, out of Hunter’s sight.
He sighed and tossed the torn tee shirt he was using as a rag into a plastic bucket beside the Freightliner’s front tire. He turned on the hose, rinsed off his hands and splashed cold water on his face, then ran his wet hands over his hair to get it back off his forehead before heading around the building to El’s office in the front. She was on the phone when he walked in the door. There was an oscillating fan on the front counter, so he stopped it from turning and aimed it straight at his face and neck while he waited for her to finish the call.
“I’ve got a load for you tonight,” she said as she slammed down the receiver. “Good one.”
“Tonight? You told me this morning I was leaving for San Jose tomorrow morning.” He tried to remember if he had a clean pair of jeans, and hoped he’d have time to do his laundry before the pickup.
“That’s not your fuckin’ fan, it’s mine. Turn it loose, would you.”
Hunter frowned. “The load? Tell me about the load and I’ll give your fan back.” The breeze on his face was a relief from the afternoon heat and he was loathe to give it up.
El growled and raised a sheet of paper off her
They had both laughed, it sounded so absurd.
Goldie entered the lodge’s laundry room, thinking about Tessa. They had been close friends at that time, told each other everything and could almost read each other’s minds. Living upriver in the Yukon Territory, Goldie’s only companions had been Gran and her dogs. On Gran’s orders, she barely spoke to the occasional visitors – the smelly, bewhiskered trappers or hunters – that showed up at the cabin, since Gran somehow never let her be alone with them and would often give her a quiet chore to do when they were around. So becoming friends with Tessa had been precious to her, akin to a first love. They exchanged whispers before class, passed furtive notes during school hours, and found secret places to sit and talk during breaks and after school. Then school was over and Gran kept Goldie busy all summer: fishing, bringing home firewood, helping with the tanning, cutting and sewing of skins, tending to the dogs or chickens and working in the vegetable garden. She only saw Tessa once or twice that last summer, and that’s when Tessa announced she had a boyfriend.
Her old friend now had two children and lived with her husband, Sam, in a two bedroom house in Eagle Village. She and Tessa didn’t have much to talk about when they ran into each other at the post office. College was never mentioned, nor was travelling. It was usually just, “How’re the kids?” and “How’s your gran?” and “Friggin’ cold today, isn’t it?” Funny how people could grow apart. Maybe if Goldie had a husband and children, they would have more in common and be close friends again. But if living here with Gran was a cage, having a husband and children here would be like a prison, a life sentence. Goldie shivered at the thought, then opened the clothes dryer to check if the bed sheets for Yukon Sally’s ‘Caribou Cabin’ were dry.
– – – – – THREE
New Westminster, BC - June 1997
Hunter was scrubbing at dried white and grey seagull shit, splattered like Rorschach inkblots on the hood of his navy blue Freightliner, when he heard his dispatcher yell across the yard at him from an open door on the loading dock. With the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat from under his brows, but not in time to keep it from stinging his eyes as he raised his head. It was early afternoon on an unusually hot day in June and he was washing his truck in full sun behind the Watson Transportation warehouse.
“Get in here!” Elspeth Watson had a very loud voice, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. “Now!” she bellowed over her shoulder as she walked back into the warehouse, out of Hunter’s sight.
He sighed and tossed the torn tee shirt he was using as a rag into a plastic bucket beside the Freightliner’s front tire. He turned on the hose, rinsed off his hands and splashed cold water on his face, then ran his wet hands over his hair to get it back off his forehead before heading around the building to El’s office in the front. She was on the phone when he walked in the door. There was an oscillating fan on the front counter, so he stopped it from turning and aimed it straight at his face and neck while he waited for her to finish the call.
“I’ve got a load for you tonight,” she said as she slammed down the receiver. “Good one.”
“Tonight? You told me this morning I was leaving for San Jose tomorrow morning.” He tried to remember if he had a clean pair of jeans, and hoped he’d have time to do his laundry before the pickup.
“That’s not your fuckin’ fan, it’s mine. Turn it loose, would you.”
Hunter frowned. “The load? Tell me about the load and I’ll give your fan back.” The breeze on his face was a relief from the afternoon heat and he was loathe to give it up.
El growled and raised a sheet of paper off her
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