The Boundless by Kenneth Oppel Read Free Book Online Page B

father is going to be chief engineer on the maiden journey of the Boundless. Tomorrow, at the first stop, Will’s father will board the locomotive and take shifts with the other engineer driving the train. When he is off duty, he won’t even sleep in their sumptuous stateroom but in the sooty bunk car right behind the tender. It’s his father who will guide the train over the Rocky Mountains—and after tomorrow Will won’t see him again until Lionsgate City.
    This is no surprise; he knew all this ahead of time. But it still rankles—he’s getting left behind. Again.
    â€œYou’ll be much more comfortable back here anyway,” his father tells him. He straightens Will’s bow tie. “Hungry?”
    They leave the stateroom and join the procession bound for the dining car. As his father exchanges pleasantries with the gentlemen, Will once more looks about for anyone even close to his own age. He feels beardless and out of place.
    He’s seen some fancy restaurants in the last few years but never one quite so opulent as this one. Though long and narrow, it gives the impression of palatial grandeur, with mirrored walls and a ceiling painted like the sky, complete with little angels peeping around the edges. Spiral staircases lead to galleries running the length of the carriage. From a small balcony a woman sings opera.
    The waiter leads Will and his father to their table. With a flourish he places napkins on their laps and hands them each a slim leather booklet. Will stares at the menu, trying to decide, but his thoughts are aswirl.
    â€œThe lamb, please,” he finally tells the waiter. “Medium rare.”
    When his father has ordered and the waiter has left, Will says hesitantly:
    â€œI’ve been thinking about next year.”
    â€œMe too,” says his father. “When you finish your studies, I’d like you to join the company.”
    James Everett raises his eyebrows and grins, as though he’s just given Will a present.
    â€œWhat would I do?” Will asks, startled.
    â€œYou’d start as a clerk, I imagine, but once you show promise, you won’t remain one for long.”
    He thinks of his pencil, writing numbers in ledgers instead of drawing.
    â€œI’m not sure,” he murmurs.
    â€œNot sure of what?”
    He swallows. “I’m not sure it’s what I want. There’s an art college in San Francisco, a good one. I was hoping to study there.”
    â€œStudy to become an artist?”
    Will nods.
    â€œYou’re talented, Will,” says his father, frowning. “No question.”
    Will’s pretty sure his father is lying. He’s never taken much interest in his drawings. Will wonders if his father has even kept that sketchbook he gave him in the mountains.
    â€œWhat I’d like to see,” his father says now, “is you putting that skill to use as an engineer or an architect for the company. Think of the things you could create! I saw the way you looked at the locomotive.”
    Will nods. “It’s very impressive. . . .”
    â€œThe CPR will need men to design new fleets of ocean liners and bridges to take our tracks all the way across the world. There’s even talk of spanning the Bering Strait so we can pass from Asia without need of ships.”
    Will adjusts his cutlery. “I’m not sure it’s what I’m meant to do.”
    â€œ Meant to do? That’s nonsense. A man does what he needs to do, to make his way in the world, to support a family.”
    The lamb is placed before Will. It is one of his favorite dishes, but he suddenly has no appetite.
    â€œThere’s no living to be made as an artist, William,” his father says. “Your mother and I have been happy to let you draw and paint—as a hobby. But these artist fellows, they live very wretched lives.”
    â€œI don’t mind being poor,” Will replies, and then adds,