![]() But he’s had his fill of small spaces, and people everywhere, and he wants to be alone and breathe fresh air. She’s tired out after their five-day journey from Winnipeg, and so is Will. There is a general store, a church, and a large rooming house, where his mother waits. ![]() Behind Will is a halfhearted jumble of wooden houses set back from a street of churned mud and snow. The town feels like it’s just been carved from the forest. A telegraph pole slings a wire to a shack, where the station master dozes on his stool, his crooked door shut against the November chill. There is a water tower and coal shed to fuel the trains. The station is an uncovered wooden platform. Yesterday when Will and his mother stepped off the train, the conductor shouted, “End of the line! Farewell Station!” But Will wasn’t sure if Farewell was the town’s name or if the fellow was just in a hurry to say “Good riddance.” ![]() Paint has dribbled down from the bottom of each number and letter. ![]() Nailed to a crooked post at the side of the train track is a messy hand-painted sign that says only: Mile 2553. Three hours before the avalanche hits, William Everett is sitting on an upturned crate, waiting for his father. ![]()
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