The Man from Burnt Island

“Jackie, want to come with me and Cae to make a delivery?” School was out, and Frank wanted Margaret to rest.

Jackie jumped up excitedly. Next to riding in the back of the ice wagon, Jackie liked nothing better than to be going with his father on a delivery run.

“Get your cap then, laddie.” Frank headed out to fetch Cae from the backyard, and they met Jack at the truck.

“Up you go, then. Mind you sit proper and stay in the truck while I carry the load in.”

The threesome – man, lad, and German Shepherd – headed to Ouellette Avenue. Frank stopped in front of a hardware store, where he got out and carried in several cartons of merchandise. After pocketing his cartage fee, he started the truck and headed east on Wyandotte Street, towards home. They were crossing McDougall after making the four-way stop when a young man in a sedan ignored the stop sign and ran into the back end of the truck.

Frank instinctively reached for Jack, pushing the child against the back of the seat with an outstretched arm. Cae flew towards Frank, but between the man and the steering wheel, he stayed unharmed in the cab.

“Jackie! Are you hurt?” Frank took his son by the shoulders, his

eyes anxiously scanning his son for any signs of injury. Jack’s eyes were huge, and his mouth a bit agape.

“Nae, ah dinnae think so.”

“Okay, you stay right here. Understand?”

Frank got out and headed for the other driver.

“You ran the stop sign. What were ye thinking? You’ve crashed my means of support!! I cart and deliver items for people, and now I can’t!” Frank was angry as he inspected his truck bed. The rear fender had been bent sharply into the wheel, crushing the wooden spokes. The truck was not drivable. Cae growled from the truck cab. Frank turned to his dog. “Down, Cae! Stay.” The dog, very well trained, did what was asked of her.