Ticket to Curlew Celia Barker Lottridge GROUNDWOOD BOOKS HOUSE OF ANANSI PRESS TORONTO BERKELEY
For my father Roger Garlock Barker who told me stories of the prairies and his father and mother Guy and Cora Barker
1 THE CONDUCTOR WALKED down the swaying aisle of the passenger car He touched the back of each seat lightly as he moved along looking up at the ticket stubs in the holders on the luggage rack When he passed Sam and Pa’s seat he called out Curlew Next stop Curlew Alberta Sam was on his feet in a second reaching up for his satchel He had been sitting in that seat for three days ever since they had changed trains at Winnipeg Sam liked the train He liked the idea that while he was just sitting there even sleeping he was traveling over land he had never seen before But three days of sitting was enough No need to hurry son said Pa You know they call the stations a good ten minutes early But Sam was in no mood to wait He lugged his heavy satchel out onto the open platform at the end of the car He had spent a lot of time out here during the journey The air blowing across the platform always felt fresh even when it was mixed with smoke from the engine Sometimes the sound of the rumbling wheels and the screeching joints of the train was so loud that Sam could shout and no one heard him If he looked down he could see the rails snaking past and watch the coupling between the cars shift He leaned into the corner of the railing and watched the green-gold land slide past Since early morning the track had run along a range of low treeless hills but now the land had flattened out again
