The Reindeer Drum: Life at the Lodge, #7

By Jim Carver

The Reindeer Drum, book 7 of Jim Carver’s iconic Canadian series Life at the Lodge, features an autumnal golf game, in which attempts to humble the course fall short.

More laugh out loud mishaps include the bicycle clip battle and the flying eagle act punctuated with an accordion lost to gravity.

The proprietors of the Lodge Pauline and Henry need a break from challenging guests and their children.

Sarah’s contact with the reindeer drum evokes a conduit to the spirit world which surprises Moon and Sami.  

Highly enjoyable!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jim Carver
• Release date: Mar 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781988284064

Jim Carver

Jim Carver is the author of 8 books, in a series called Life at the Lodge. These books are An Almost Perfect Life, Gold Dust, Deep and Crisp and Even, Watersky, The Gold Necklace, The Mysterious Bob Larch, The Reindeer Drum, and The Cabin at Big Rock. He is currently working on 3 new books. Jim Carver spent many years working in geological exploration in wilderness areas all over Canada, and his books draw on his experiences. He was sidelined from his career by the onset of hereditary cerebellar ataxia, a condition which affects motor skills in an ever-worsening way. He has been in a wheelchair for almost 3 decades, and has taught himself to type very slowly with only 1 finger. He dictates his books, even though it is difficult to speak. He has a well-developed sense of humour, a keen interest in his characters, and to read him is to laugh out loud on every page. He continues to inspire himself and others through his books. He loved his work in the Canadian wilderness. Now his writing is his way of interacting with others, and exploring the world. Jim Carver lives and writes in Victoria, on Vancouver Island, B.C.

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Copyright © 2017 Jim Carver

www.authorjimcarver.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-988284-06-4

Cover design by Iryna Spica

The Reindeer Drum

Poor Pauline was near the end of her tether. She was gazing down at the eight-year-old boy without a glimmer of fondness, with her hands sternly on her hips. The kid was crouched over the table where he’d been busily colouring in all the blank spaces on one of Pauline’s petit-point patterns. Now what was supposed to be a placid landscape shown in appropriate summer colours, was now thickly caked with purple and orange crayon, featuring aquamarine cows drinking at a bright crimson stream. Plainly not impressed by his somewhat surreal take on the world outside, she grabbed the pattern off the table and was near tears as she looked at it. Normally, even while dealing with a particularly odious little incident like this, she’d keep her cool and be stern, but would not get emotional. Now she stood glaring down at the boy with the corners of her mouth twitching and the vividly-crayoned piece of paper trembling in her hand.

The kid had arrived along with his twin brother and parents, and right from the start, the boys had been impossible to tell apart. They always wore matching outfits and both obviously felt much superior to their mousey parents, who seemed afraid of them. The twins had glossy black hair swept to the side, which somehow gave their startling blue eyes an uncomfortable and penetrating quality. Their names were Hamilton and Timothy, but which one this might be was anyone’s guess. It really didn’t matter, I suppose, since they were both equally misbegotten.

On the first evening of their arrival, Pauline had entered the lodge to start preparing the evening meal, when she’d encountered the boys playing ‘fort’ in the lodge. They’d taken logs from the neat wood pile and had stacked them between chair-legs to form walls, behind which they crouched. Pretend-shooting at each other with the cutlery, they’d seemed miffed at the interruption to their play as Pauline shooed them out. After lunch the following day, I went out back to find my carefully sorted and stacked wood scattered around the yard, with logs forming walls leaning on nearby tree trunks. Apparently they’d taken their act outdoors and as I cleaned up, naturally the little darlings hadn’t been around to help. This hadn’t improved my opinion of them. In fact, I found myself muttering about Satan’s offspring; but since I’m not overly religious, this characterisation didn’t quite fit, so let’s just say I found them exceedingly ill-mannered. Spending the summer with us, Sarah had echoed my feelings after one of the little miscreants tore a few of her landscapes from her binder and crumpled them. Upon discovering this blatant intrusion into her privacy, she said, Oh my god, there’s two of them! Looking at her tattered drawings, then pleadingly raising her eyes to the ceiling, she stated we’d need help from above through the following days. I had the feeling she’d find a way to get back at them and I hoped she’d get ‘em good. I’m aware that a level-headed person running a summer getaway some distance from town, shouldn’t feel vindictive towards his clients’ children, but these two really blistered my bliss.

Coming through the lodge’s front door, I’d seen Pauline’s reaction to the kid’s artwork, but I’d stopped short upon seeing it for myself. No wonder Pauline was upset! But like her, I didn’t know what to do. The child’s neck obviously needed a good wringing, but that sort of thing is usually frowned upon by other adults and also might be bad for business. Unfortunately, I’m sure this also applies to checking out the gong-qualities of Pauline’s iron skillet by robustly tapping him on his empty skull with it, but I showed some discretion.

As Pauline and I stood in the lodge fuming and unsure of how to handle the situation, luckily Moon arrived. She’d been informed of the twins’ disregard for other people’s feelings, so she hadn’t been amused. Coming through the door and seeing immediately what’d happened, Moon touched me on the shoulder as she hastened to stand beside Pauline. Nothing had been said since Moon’s arrival, but her extreme annoyance needed no words to be apparent. She glanced at the ruined pattern Pauline was still holding in her trembling hand, then shot the boy a look full of daggers and icicles. The kid tried leaving his chair, but by now Moon was standing so close and looming so threateningly over him, that there was no avenue of escape. Putting her right arm reassuringly around Pauline’s waist, she bent down slightly to address the seated boy. He was looking up at her with puzzlement and fear, clearly never having seen a mature First Nations woman up close before. He seemed quite impressed, that is, until it obviously dawned on him that for some reason, this strange lady’s bad temper seemed focussed on him. He attempted rising from his chair again, but Moon pushed him down firmly and leaned her head closer, demanding in a flinty voice, Which one are you?

I’m Hamilton, ma’am, he said meekly, looking up at her with trepidation.

After letting his squeaky voice hang limply in the air for a while, she said, Well, Hamilton, if I see you or your brother around here before supper, you’ll both regret it. She’d pronounced his name as though it was the most disgusting sound she’d ever had to make, then smiled grimly at him, adding, We have our own ways of dealing with the likes of you. Standing aside to give him room to exit, she concluded by telling him to get out, which he did with alacrity. Turning to us with a sarcastic smile as he beat a hasty retreat from the lodge, Moon said, That’ll learn him, for maybe half a day, anyway. She looked at the door he’d just slammed behind him and shook her head slowly, saying, Hopefully, he thinks I have the power to visit his dreams with flying porcupines or whatever other nonsense he might conjure in that evil little mind of his.

Moon took the paper from Pauline’s hand and beheld it as though it was too ugly to exist. It looks like the paper’s absorbed the crayon, so the pattern’s ruined, Moon muttered angrily to herself. Balling it up unceremoniously, she went angrily to the wood stove, opened the firebox door and chucked in the pattern. Although the stove wasn’t in operation, nonetheless it was a dramatic display of her true feelings. Slamming the stove’s door shut, she said to Pauline, I know they’re expensive and have to be ordered special, but we can’t have you looking at that mess every time you need to view the pattern. Doing petit-point is supposed to be an enjoyable and relaxing pastime, but it won’t be if you’re constantly being reminded of Hamilton. There being nary a word of dissent from either Pauline or myself, Moon switched topics as she went to the sink and filled the kettle.

Once the tea’s ready, we can sit together and have a little chat. Looking worriedly at each of us in turn, she said, I need to talk to the two of you, and didn’t say anything more until she was stirring honey into her tea as we all sat at the table. After taking a sip and stirring in a tiny bit more, she said, You two are frazzled, and I think Hamilton’s crayon artwork on the pattern was the last straw. Chuckling, she said, When I first came in here just now, it looked like Henry was ready to do violence on the kid and Pauline was about to cry. That’s not like either of you. It’s been a long summer and we’ve had some difficult guests, so like I said before, you’re fried. Take some time off, away from the lodge and clients.

It’s annoying to think of yourself as being aware of things going on, then discovering you’ve been blind to your own behaviour. Pauline and I sighed in unison, looked at each other embarrassedly, then lowered our eyes. Moon was right of course; we needed to get away, especially from all our beloved clients and their adorable children. We sat and looked guilty for a moment, then Moon turned to Pauline, saying, Tomorrow’s a Monday, so we’ll only have a buffet to lay out for the guests. Sarah and I can handle everything, no problem. She grinned at us as she continued; I’m not saying you’re good candidates for spending time at the Drooling Academy; you both just need a day off. Still grinning wickedly, she flicked a glance at me, but then addressed Pauline by saying, As a matter of fact, Sarah and I often think that you’re only in the way while we’re trying to set up the buffet. Frankly, we’d like you to be gone. Moon let the insulting proclamation hang above the table before chuckling and reaching out to touch Pauline’s hand, saying, That’s not true of course, but you do need a day off. Things here won’t fall apart because you’re gone for a day.

After ruefully agreeing with her, we decided to go camping the following day; that way we’d be on the property and would be available if disaster struck. As we talked it over, I could see that Pauline was getting enthusiastic about the notion as she said, The weather’s supposed to be good for the next few days and I know exactly the spot to spend the night. We should take Pooch with us. It’s always comforting to have him along.

The dog’s a Newfoundlander/Lab. cross and is big, so not even a bear would want to mess with him. And I knew precisely the area she had in mind: an idyllic little spot in the trees just north of the Narrows.

Moon smiled as she saw her idea had been so readily accepted and said, Good! Take a day to breathe deep and prepare yourselves for the last month of dealing with clients. Remember, it’ll only be four weeks or so before we shut down for the winter and all those annoying people stop visiting. Laughing again, she added, Then we can all hibernate, like nature intended. She got up from the table, gave Pauline’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze and said, I have to be getting back to my place now, see you at supper! Gazing fondly at us for a moment, she nodded minutely and left.

Pauline was already deciding out loud what to pack into Pooch’s saddlebags, when Sarah and the dogs burst in. Sarah always made her entrance seem like a gala event for us poor wretches slaving away and having to deal with the vagaries of everyday life. And if the dogs were with her, then all the better: there’d be more fuss and movement with them present. She’s maybe a bit full of herself, but she more than makes up for this with her keenness and ‘can do’ attitude. Smiling as Pooch, Banjo and Grace got themselves sorted out in their place by the woodstove, Sarah opened the creel on her hip to show us the raspberries she’d just picked. After admiring them, Pauline said, They’ll be perfect for the buffet this evening, then told her of our plans to camp out the following night.

Camping? Sarah asked incredulously, you two? She looked around the lodge slowly and queried, Aren’t you doing that now?

This is hardly roughing it, I replied, "you know we’re very comfortable here. We may