St. Clair (Gives Light Series) (8 page)

I heard twigs snapping underfoot and glanced

sharply east.

Through the beech trees, I saw them: Three men in

uniforms and hard hats. This struck me as bizarre

for three reasons. The first was that the grotto was

fairly well hidden; in seventeen years, no one but

Annie had ever stumbled across it. The second

was that I'd never seen anyone around the

reservation wearing a hard hat before. And the

third was that none of the three men were

Shoshone.

I jostled Rafael's arm and pointed. He followed

my gaze, his face darkening.

"Hey, ass man," Rafael mumbled to Zeke. "Go

page reservation police."

"Huh? How? Wait, why?"

"There's a phone at the council building."

Zeke

clambered

off

the

ground,

looking

bewildered, but followed the forest back to the

main path.

Annie got up and started walking toward the men.

What the heck was she doing? I took Marilu by the

hand and started after her. I noticed Rafael and

Aubrey had done the same. I guess protecting

Annie was instinctual for all three of us.

The men were gesturing to the tops of the trees

when Annie came to a swift stop in front of them.

The way they looked at her, you would've thought

she'd sprouted a second head or something.

"Hello," said Annie, as polite as could be. "I'm

sorry, but this isn't public property. This is a

reservation."

The men guffawed. I could see that they were

prepared to ignore her.

That's probably why she scooped a pebble off the

ground and lobbed it at the nearest man's forehead.

"Ow!"

"Little lady," said one of the men--I almost laughed

to see him backing out of her radius, "we're here

on official business."

"It can't possibly be official," Annie said, her

voice rising. "I don't
think
you belong to our tribal

council."

"Kid--"

Whatever he'd been about to say, I never heard it.

I heard growling instead. And then the thick

leaves of the creosote bushes parted, and Balto

stalked over to us, snarling at the strangers.

I was so stunned to see him, and so happy, I

dropped down and put my arms around his slender

neck in a hug. He pressed his wet nose against

mine. I don't know if you've ever seen wolves just

before a hunt, but they always bat noses with each

other. I think that's their way of establishing

camaraderie.

Zeke came sprinting through the trees. Gabriel,

Mr. Black Day, and a woman I didn't recognize

were close behind him.

"Hey, guys," Gabriel said genially, his tawny

brown hair windswept. "What's going on here?"

The man farthest from us frowned. "Bureau of

Land Management sent us."

Bureau of Land Management? The same guys

Stuart had petitioned against. Did that mean they

were selling Bear River back to us after all?

"The government's taking back twenty-five acres of

land."

I felt like a brick had hit me in the chest.

Mr. Black Day and the woman looked at one

another. Gabriel rubbed his face with his hands.

"This land was allotted to us," Gabriel finally

said. "Legally and officially. One of a very few

good things to come from the Dawes Act."

"The government can take back land if it's not

being used. None of this land is being used."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. I could tell he was

struggling, very hard, to remain friendly. "I'd say

the wildlife is using it, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe we should take this discussion to the

council building?" said the woman. She pulled a

pager out of her front pocket and bent her head

over the screen.

Marilu gripped my hand and peered up at me with

a soft, bemused frown. I ran my hand through the

back of her hair and showed her a small smile.

"Uncle Gabe," Rafael said.

"Yes, you can come," Gabriel said, stifling a sigh.

You come
, I signed to Balto. He responded by

licking my hand.

It was a gloomy walk to the forest path, and from

there, the lake. We followed the lake to its other

side, to the tall council building with the

impressive stone staircase. A high-relief of Chief

Pocatello stood out beside the double doors, his

warlike face menacing and beautiful. The doors to

the building were propped open. They were

always propped open.

We went inside, but not Balto. I wondered at that.

He'd never had any misgivings about following

humans indoors before. The interior of the council

building was airy and cool. Each wall was its

own woodpainting. I saw the snowy confluence of

Bear River and Bear Creek on one wall; on

another, the Paiute shaman Wovoka, teaching the

ghost dance to the Plains tribes. Filing cabinets

stood next to a polished desk atop which sat a

mounted phone. A winding staircase off to the

right led to what I assumed were record rooms.

Mrs. Red Clay came out from a back room, her

gray-white hair pinned in a flyaway bun. One of

the cops must have paged her, I thought. She

looked from Rafael to Annie, from Annie to

Aubrey to Zeke; then, finally, to Marilu and me.

She almost frowned. I say "almost" because Mrs.

Red Clay came with only one real facial template:

blank.

"I shouldn't think this is any place for children."

"I'm eighteen," Rafael said.

"I'd like them to see this, Nola," Gabriel said.

"After all, this is going to be their problem within

a few years."

Mrs. Red Clay turned toward the men in the hard

hats. "I understand you are attempting to invoke

Eminent Domain Law."

"Not attempting," said one man, irritably rubbing

his forehead.

"Yes, attempting. I am well aware that Eminent

Domain allows you to stake a claim on our land.

But apparently you have failed to read the fine

print. The Fifth Amendment requires that you first

offer to purchase the land. Only after we reject

your offer may you take us to court, where a judge

will determine our case."

"Not anymore," said one of the men. "The

Supreme Court just threw all them procedures out

the window with Kelo v. New London. As long as

you're not using the land, we can take it back, no

holds barred."

"What do you mean, take it
back
?" Mr. Black Day

asked. "It was ours to begin with."

And at the same time, Annie burst out: "Not using

it? What would you like us to do with it, tear it

down?"

But the wolves lived out there, I wanted to say.

The coywolves. The black bears. The foxes and

the robins and the bobcats. If the Bureau of Land

Management tore down the forest, where were

those animals supposed to go? Gray wolves were

already an endangered species.

"Look, I think we're done here," said one of the

Bureau men. "We'll send a couple of contractors

around come August. There's really nothing to

argue about. You didn't build anything on the land,

so it goes back to the government."

There wasn't any way Mrs. Red Clay would

tolerate this treatment, I thought. Mrs. Red Clay

was brilliant. Any minute now and she'd come up

with some obscure law, and the men would run

away with their tails between their legs.

Mrs. Red Clay didn't say a word.

The men walked out the door. I felt as though ice

had filled my lungs. I looked desperately at Mrs.

Red Clay, though initially, I wasn't sure she

noticed. Killing the forest was terrible enough.

What if the government decided it wanted the rest

of our reservation, too? Would they wipe out the

badlands? Would they dry up the lake?

Would they tear down our homes?

"Well," Mrs. Red Clay said quietly. "That's the

law."

Something occurred to me just then. If Nettlebush

wasn't safe, no reservation was safe. Any of those

four hundred reservations could get swept out from

under their tribes' feet and gobbled up by the

hungry masses.

Nothing had changed since the 1800s.

The monsoon season saw Marilu and me confined

to the house for two and a half weeks. Really,

considering Nettlebush's xeric climate, I thought

the land needed the heavy rainfall.

But Granny had no patience for the rain. She

tromped around the house in a bad humor and

snapped at anyone who looked at her funny. Funny

looks were my specialty, so I was usually on the

receiving end of her temper.

Aunt Cora chuckled one morning as Granny

stomped into the kitchen for a cup of roasted acorn

tea. "She's been like this since we were girls,"

Aunt Cora told me. "I don't know how Tim put up

with it."

Dad was in a pensive, silent mood all throughout

the monsoon. Usually I found him at the computer

desk in the front room, his hands folded, his chin

on his knuckles. I touched his shoulder,

concerned. He looked up at me with the ghost of a

smile, but it was just that--a ghost.

"I suppose you've heard about what the government

is doing to us."

I smiled ruefully.

"Cubby?" Dad said. I could hear the rain battering

the roof of our home, rhythmic and hollow. "If

anything happens...well, if I have to go away for a

little while, or a long while, I should say... I just

hope you'll remember that I love you. More than

anything. And I'm very proud of who you've

become."

The way he was talking, it scared me. And when

he got up from the computer desk and wandered up

the staircase, I realized why he was saying his

premature goodbyes.

If the government owned a part of the reservation,

the reservation became subject to federal laws.

If the reservation became subject to federal laws,

the FBI could barge in here and arrest Dad for the

crime he'd committed a year ago.

It hit me. This wasn't the government coveting

what little land we had left to our names. This

was the FBI finally finding a way to punish Dad.

I think I felt sick. Because, of course, I wanted to

protect my father, and I didn't know how. I

worried about Balto, too. I hadn't seen Balto since

the trip to the council building. That forest was

Balto's home now, and supposing a private

contractor got his hands on it, he might tear it

down. Where did the coywolves go during the

monsoon, anyway? I wondered about that.

Wherever he was, I hoped Balto was dry. Dry and

safe.

I sighed quietly and turned on the computer. If I

couldn't go outside, at least I could try and e-mail

my friends.

The tribal website flooded the computer screen. I

typed a quick letter to Kaya, my friend on the

Navajo reservation; and a letter to Racine, just to

see how she was doing. The rain washing over the

front windows blended smoothly with the violin

strings in the next room. Marilu was playing a

song for Granny and Aunt Cora.

I spent a few empty seconds staring at the tribal

website before I clicked on the "Chat" button.

Maybe someone else on the reservation was

feeling as restless as I was.

dosabite: mii yukkwi satu

prairierose: oh my gosh

dosabite: awisu

dosabite: hakatu sampe kimmakinna

dosabite: haa asun tammappu

Stu Stout: Hey, Skylar.

skylar st. clair: hi guys

skylar st. clair: :( what are we

talking about?

prairierose: is that TRUE?!?

prairierose: immaculata says zeke says

they're gunna take the reservation away

from us!!

skylar

st.

clair:

not

the

whole

reservation. but the woods, yeah

skylar st. clair: the government's

taking 25 acres of land from us. that's

almost the whole forest

prairierose: AWFUL

Stu Stout: Of course, we're not going

to take this sitting down.

William Sleeping Fox is idle.

skylar st. clair: what do you mean?