The Man Game by Lee W. Henderson Page A

this morning, his last reserve unless he found new means.
    What will we do? Did you speak with Langis?
    Hm.
    What did he—
    Said it was very expensive. Short supply as it is, men come in who need it more than we—
    Yes, the injured.
    Yes
, he snapped, yes, the
in
jured. A lot a them
my
men.
    Well, she kissed him once on the cheek. This can’t end here, she said, and dabbed her finger in the gummy crud in the corners of the tin to get any extra that she could into her mouth. It can’t end here, she said.

    RED & ROSY’S GENERAL STORE IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS AGAIN SINCE GREAT FIRE . In the months after the Fire, Vancouver subsisted almost entirely on the generosity of Women’s Temperance Leagues in New Westminster, Victoria, and Nanaimo for the necessities of life, food, water, clothes, and carpenters. Only recently were the stores beginning to reopen.
    It was September, and Molly, a young bride with plenty of energy, ideas, and necessities, had already begun to show signs of impatience. She wanted to go in to town and visit the stores. Sammy made her promise to be careful, and she said she would, so there was no other choice but to let her go. After all, it was only Red & Rosy’s, what trouble could she come across there? Sammy preferred to stay at home. The incapacitant was not prepared for an outing. He preferred to focus on his work for the mill.
    There was no accounting for the surds of love, thought Sammy Erwagen. How could any man tally a woman? There was no counting—if she wanted, a woman might have a dozen fingers on each hand, and all of them proactively nimble. And if he wanted, a man might have the presence of two minds when the time comes to love.
    But the moment she left, a sudden wave of horror hit him, in which the stony surface of his thoughts fell away to reveal the raw, terrible murk below. The day of the accident appeared before his eyes as though it was happening all over again. En route through Alberta again, train-travelling through fields of wheat, eager to see their new home, darting off in the afternoon for lovemaking sessions in their private cabin. Yes, lovemaking. And with boundless joy in each other’s limbs, in the smell and taste of each other. In the explosionsof each other. This newly married couple, primal numbers ajar of each other, on a train for two more days before they’d arrive in Vancouver. What a luxury to spend so long locomotively, pushing into the future. Yes, thought Sammy, a train was indeed a love machine.
    Later, while she sponged, he sat in the half-full restaurant cabin milking a cup of tea, watched scenery squiggle by at the pace of a rabbit run, and behaved as best he could like a gentleman who wasn’t elated. He stirred the teabag around in his single-serving pot.
    Less than two days to go before Vancouver. He was too impatient to stay in his seat. He passed from car to car until he was back with his wife: I’m madly in love with you, he reiterated.
    And here we are on a train, she responded curiously.
    Yes, he said, here we are on a train.
    Another quaint pause. A kiss. They glanced out the window of their berth and marvelled together at late-afternoon Alberta. The mountains painted pink. Molly and Sammy looked at this light and these Albertan fields spread under it and refell in love. He kissed her on the forehead and then twice on her neck. That feels like warm ice, she said, and you smell so wonderful. Keep doing that, she said. He kissed her twice more on her neck and once on her cheek.
    Sammy said: I really would like to meet the conductor. I’m so curious as to what kind of man he is.
    Well, why don’t we? she said.
    And yes, he thought, why don’t we? It was as easy as that.
    The engine car was a steel belly full of nocks and plugs and pegs and pedals the conductor occasionally luxated or uncorked or tightened. The conductor was grease-stained, thick-skinned, and wiry, and his eyes were as white as