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A Better Man

Page 62

by Louise Penny

Gamache looked upriver again, remembering the donkeys in the field and the sound of the Bella Bella behind them.

“He can dig a trench.”

It was an oddity of Armand’s relationship with Billy that they had a strangely close connection and yet Armand could not understand a word the man said. Granted, Billy Williams had a thick backcountry English accent, though Gamache managed to understand everyone else.

Despite this, Billy remained for Armand both a cipher and a confidant.

Olivier had run back to Clara’s home and brought Billy out with him. Now the three stood next to the Bella Bella.

“How can I help?” Billy asked.

All Armand heard was a series of guttural sounds ending in an upward inflection. He looked at Olivier, who translated.

Armand told him what he wanted. Billy considered.

“For God’s sake, hurry up and tell us,” said Olivier, his teeth chattering in the cold.

“I’ll need my backhoe,” said Billy, pointing to the piece of machinery he’d used earlier in the day to move the piles of sand. “But it’s heavy. It won’t make it up the hills in this mud. The place you’re suggesting is kilometers away.”

Olivier translated again.

“I was afraid of that,” said Armand. After all, he’d had an experience with a hill earlier in the day.

Billy made some more noises and gestures.

“When?” asked Olivier.

More sounds from Billy.

“Will it work?” asked Olivier.

Billy thought, then nodded. “Yurt.”

That Armand got. “It’s possible, then?”

“But you’ll have to wait until the temperature drops and the ground hardens,” said Olivier. “He figures it’ll be sometime after midnight.”

Armand looked over to the river. Then at his watch. It was almost 10:00 p.m.

“Do we have that long?” Olivier asked.

“I don’t know,” said Armand.

They went back inside and reported what they’d found as they toweled off their faces and hair, then stuck their hands out to the fire.

The others listened in silence. There was nothing to say and nothing to do, except wait.

Jean-Guy called from Montréal and reported that they’d decided to blow the ice dams on the St. Lawrence. “They’ll issue a public warning and close the bridges while it’s being done.”

“Good. Let me know if it works.”

“I will.”

Armand lowered his voice. “And the dams?”

“No word. No mention of them now, even on the secure channels.”

Gamache took a deep breath and said a silent prayer.