Fraser Jade Frog: A Chilcotin Mystery

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-1-926991-63-4
Verlag: Granville Island Publishing
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 300 Seiten

An artist-shaman, an English teacher, and a judge find their lives transformed by the beauty and spiritual influence of the Cariboo- Chilcotin. Spanning decades and vast territory, Bruce Fraser's sequel to On Potato Mountain brings together disparate worlds as the law and shamanism vie to find the murderer in their midst, with the only clues the book that prompted Johanna Kent to reveal her darkest secret and her talisman, a jade frog pendant whose origin she's hidden from even her husband, Malcolm. Noah Hanlon knows the secret and the land, but will that be enough to find the killer in time?

Autoren/Hrsg.

Fraser, Bruce

Leseproben

1
Johanna Barton met Malcolm Kent in April of 1959 at the annual fraternity-sorority songfest. She was completing her final year in English Honours and he was the older brother of one of the singers. The after-party had been at a home in the university district, and Johanna had gone into the den alone to catch her breath from the crush of the singing, dancing crowd. She was admiring an Emily Carr painting when he came into the room. “I see you appreciate art,” he said. “Yes, my aunt gave me a small sketch of hers,” she answered, pointing to the painting, not taking her eyes off it. “She also gave me a Vivien Cowan painting. You know, Vivien is influenced by A.Y. Jackson.” “No, I didn’t know.” She had turned to see an elegant man, black hair parted and combed flat, dressed in a dark three-piece suit. Their eyes met and she felt that she was Elizabeth Bennett looking into the eyes of D’Arcy in Pride and Prejudice. “Oh,” she said, with a hint of surprise. “I’m sorry. I tend to babble on about art. It must be the teacher in me.” “Don’t be sorry. I’m a good listener. Do you teach art?” “No, I collect art. I intend to teach English. Who are you?” “I’m Malcolm Kent, Barry’s big brother.” “That explains it.” “Explains what?” “You don’t look like a student. I thought you might be a professor.” “No,” he laughed. “I’m a lawyer.” They spent the rest of the evening sparring with each other and exchanging knowing glances. He had driven her home. Johanna’s prior experience with men had been limited to a high school crush, her eccentric classmate Vladimir, and necking with fraternity boys in the back seats of cars. Malcolm was significantly different; a city of Vancouver prosecutor and twelve years her senior. She was amused and enthralled by his courtship. It hadn’t escaped her that he had conducted his seduction as if she was the most important case he had ever argued. To have a successful, cultured man give her his full attention proved irresistible to Johanna. They married the following April when she was taking her practicum for her qualification as a high-school teacher. They honeymooned at Qualicum Beach, on Vancouver Island for a week of strolling on the sand, eating oysters and sleeping in. Malcolm hardly ever consulted the file he had brought with him for a trial starting the following week. Not long before the wedding, they had attended a student art showing at the Emily Carr Gallery, and Johanna had been enthralled by the work. When she opened her wedding present from Malcolm, she gasped. In her hands was the painting of a salmon jumping over a weir she had taken a particular liking to. Touched by her husband’s gesture, she raved to all in attendance about the artist. Malcolm took this as a cue and, at the first opportunity, invited the artist and his wife to have dinner with them. The artist, Noah Hanlon, was Chilcotin, as was his wife, Justine. Johanna was delighted to discover that Justine was born on a ranch at Tatlayoko, as she had spent a summer working at a guest ranch at Nimpo Lake. The two young women found common ground on the high plateau. Realizing they’d barely discussed Noah’s art, Johanna recounted the story of showing the painting at the wedding and talked of having seen his gallery showing earlier. The Hanlons invited the Kents to their home to see more of Noah’s art. The Hanlons lived in Acadia Camp, a cluster of army huts left over from the Second World War on the grounds of Johanna’s alma mater. She and Malcolm parked outside the compound and wandered amongst the drab rows of grey huts, one indistinguishable from the other, looking for the Hanlons’ place. Johanna recognized the Farwell Canyon Bridge spanning the Chilcotin River painted on the front door and excitedly cried out to Malcolm. “This is it!” They were greeted at the door by Noah, Justine and their baby Elizabeth, held in her mother’s arms. Johanna held out her arms to Justine. With Elizabeth cradled between them, she looked down at the baby, “She’s adorable,” she gasped. “May I hold her?” “Sure,” Justine laughed. “But come in first!” Johanna stepped over the threshold and took Elizabeth in her arms. The baby immediately cooed and nestled into her shoulder. “She likes you!” Noah exclaimed. Johanna’s attention was already elsewhere. Baby held tight to her, she slowly scanned the walls. These had been transformed by surreal sketches and paintings-in-progress of what Justine described as the Chilcotin creation legend. Johanna walked around the room, looking at the mythical monsters transformed into birds, fish and animals by Lendix’tcux, the half-dog, half-man transformer. “Noah, this is amazing! I’d like to take one of these walls and mount it in our living room.” “I’m still learning. Justine lets me practice on the walls. One day I’ll do a huge mural on the Chilcotin creation story.” “There’s more in the other two rooms,” Justine offered. She led Johanna through a quick circuit of the bedrooms before rejoining the men in the living room. When they re-emerged, Elizabeth, with her back to her mother’s shoulder, was looking shyly at Johanna. Johanna didn’t notice. Seeing the room from the new angle, she brushed past the men to study a portrait of a frog on the edge of a pond. Malcolm looked at Noah and shrugged apologetically. Noah simply smiled. “Isn’t the frog a Haida symbol?” Johanna asked. “We have our own myth of how frog was made.” “Could you tell us the story?” “Not now, Johanna,” Malcolm chided. “I’ve brought some expensive wine that demands to be drunk and commented on.” After dinner, when their hunger and thirst had been satisfied, and Elizabeth had been put to bed with her own story, Justine looked at Noah. She lit a candle and dimmed the room lights. Recognizing the cue, he nodded. “Wawant’x, of the house of Raven,” she announced, “will tell you about how Frog was made.” Noah and Justine sat cross-legged on the floor. Johanna immediately followed their lead. Malcolm very stiffly copied his wife, forming a circle around the candle. Their shadows danced in the flickering light, interacting with the painted figures on the walls. They settled and the room became quiet except for the sound of breathing. Justine produced an eagle’s feather, which she passed to Noah. He took some time to compose himself before speaking. “The making of Frog by our transformer Lendix’tcux is a part of our creation myth. I will tell it to you as it was told to me by Old Antoine, my deyen, who was our shaman. Antoine died last year and I’m trying to fulfill his trust in me.” Noah breathed slowly and his voice took on a different cadence, a slow drumbeat. His melodic baritone now cere-monial, reverential, reverberated through the room. He cupped his hands before him. “This was before my time… “So they started out, Lendix’tcux and his three sons—Qontse’rken, Qonta’in and Qunsu’l. Before very long, they came to a river where there was a ford which allowed for crossing. A great moose stood in the river just below the ford. Lendix’tcux wished to go over at once, but Qontse’rken said that his mother had warned him about the moose and told him it killed every one who tried to cross. However, Lendix’tcux insisted. He tied boughs in his hair so his sons could watch him, then started into the water while his three boys sat on the bank and waited. When he came to the middle of the ford, the water swept him off his feet and carried him downstream to the moose, which opened its mouth and swallowed him.” Noah spread out his arms, his hands open to the ceiling illustrating the moose swallowing the transformer. “For a while the moose stood still. Then, suddenly, it began to sway from side to side and started for the shore with long jumps. It reached the shore with its last jump, then fell down dead. Immediately, the boys skinned it. Opening the chest, they found their father sitting there alive and well. Lendix’tcux had cut out the heart, built a fire, and cooked and eaten it, and that was what had killed the moose.” “This is very Old Testament,” Malcolm interrupted, “instead of a whale, you have a moose.” “Yes, the old religions have learned from us,” Noah smiled. “But would you like to hear about Frog?” “Ignore Malcolm and go on, Noah,” Johanna insisted. “So they cut the carcass up into small pieces, and from the pieces they made all sorts of animals and started on their journey again. Soon, though, they remembered that they had made nothing out of the brain. “They went back. They tried again and again to make some animal from the brain, failing each time. At last they succeeded in making Frog, but he was so ugly that they threw him into the water and told him he must live there and not on land.” Noah flung down his outstretched arm and open hand in a tender careful movement. Justine had beamed through Noah’s telling of the myth and brought her hands together in a silent clap at the finish. Seeing Malcolm about to make a comment, Johanna held...