The Buried Book (20 page)

CHAPTER 37

Do you think you have an illness?

After the doctor left, Jasper sat up in the bed and wished he could rip the tube out of his arm. He didn’t want to be stuck up in a tree. He wanted his mother.

She might not be far. Her car had been found only a few miles away. She could even be hiding somewhere at the reservation. The clear fluid in the jar over his head dripped one slow drop at a time. He laid his head back on the pillow and sighed.

There was nothing to do in the tiny room but sit and stew. Jasper snatched the book about Indians up off the floor and read it. Then he read it again. There was a lot of talk about the buffalo, tepees, and battles, but nothing about wolves.

Jasper pulled the necklace out from under the covers and studied it again. Dr. Whitebird knew her. Frowning, he looped the necklace over his head and tucked it under his shirt. He vowed to himself that he’d ask her about it when she came back. Even as he thought the words, they clouded with doubt.

The mother in the story never came back.

The door to his room finally opened, and the nurse came in with more food. “You are looking quite shiny today, little fish,” she said and set the food on the cot. “You happy to be going home?”

“Yes, thank you,” he said, eyeing the tray. More venison and corn. He glanced up at the glass bottle attached to his arm. It was still a quarter full.

“You are tired of being on a hook,” she said, noticing his frown. “Don’t worry. I think you are almost done. Eat your food, and I will come and take out the line.”

He grinned at the news and immediately began devouring his plate. The nurse chuckled and left the room. Jasper ate every crumb, eager to be declared healthy again. Truthfully, he still felt quite tired, and the itch in his leg was like a hatch of fleas. It was going to take all his strength not to claw through his bandages, he could tell, but he didn’t care. He wanted to escape the windowless room.

The nurse finally came back. The glass jar had a half inch of fluid left, but she made good on her promise and pulled the needle out of his arm. He went to stand up, and she gently eased him back down to the bed. “Not yet, little fish. Let me change these wrappings one more time.”

She pulled off the bandages. Jasper half expected to see a nest of wriggling maggots chewing at his skin. The wounds were getting smaller, and the skin had tightened up at the edges. “They itch!”

“The itch is good. That means the wounds are healing.” Her voice turned stern. “You are going to have to change these bandages twice a day for the next week. No running around or rolling in the mud until then, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Your family isn’t here just yet. You will have to wait.”

“Do you mind if I walk around a bit outside?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager. “I miss the sun.”

She stopped and thought about it for a minute. “I cannot let you go missing, little fish. You are a stranger here. You do not know our village.”

Jasper’s face fell as his one chance to go looking for her slipped away.

“Oh. Don’t lose your shine. Wait here.”

He debated whether he should just escape on his own.

The nurse returned before he’d made up his mind, and she was not alone. A brown-skinned boy not much taller than Jasper stood by her side. “This is my son, Pati. He can walk with you for a little while.”

Pati studied Jasper like he was an interesting new bug.

“Hello.” Jasper gave him a little wave.

The boy didn’t wave back.

“Okay. You two go outside for a while.” The nurse turned to her son and said several other things in a language Jasper didn’t understand. The boy nodded and went over to Jasper and grabbed his hand.

Together, the two boys walked down the hallway to the sparsely furnished waiting room. Jasper could hardly remember being there, but it had only been two days. Pati led Jasper out the front door and into the blinding sun. It was late afternoon and unseasonably warm out. A stand of trees shielded the clinic from the narrow dirt road that led down the steep hill to Route 25. According to his mother’s diary, it had once been marked the “Door of Faith,” but he didn’t see a sign anywhere.

The thought of the diary sent a jolt of regret through him. He’d thrown it across the barn in a rage. He could only hope it was still lying behind the feed bins, undiscovered.

As soon as they were out of the nurse’s sight line, Pati dropped Jasper’s hand. “So, where do you want to go?” He spoke with no accent at all.

“I’m not sure,” Jasper said, not knowing how much he should tell the strange boy. “I’m sort of looking for someone.”

“Here at Black River?” The boy cocked a grin, sizing Jasper up. “Indian or white?”

“Um . . . white.”

“There is only one place the white people go here. I’ll show you, but you can’t tell my mother. Deal?”

“Deal.” Jasper nodded and held out his hand to shake on it.

The boy just gave him an odd look and started walking down to the dirt road. Jasper dropped his hand and followed. Pati wore clothes very similar to the clothes on his own back. There were no moccasins or leather tassels, just boots and jeans. Pati did have long black hair tied back into a tail. Besides that, he could have been just another kid at school.

The two boys followed the dirt road farther up the hill and away from the clinic. They walked past a group of trailers where adults sat in clumps, enjoying the warm sun. A few campfires were lit, and the air smelled of burning leaves. One man was roasting a whole fish on a spit. He waved to Pati and said something Jasper didn’t understand. Pati answered in the same language and motioned to Jasper. The man laughed and waved them on.

“What’d he say?” Jasper asked once the man was out of earshot.

“He wanted to know why you were here. I told him you were looking for your drunk father.”

Jasper stopped walking at this comment.

“Don’t worry. Most of the white men that come here get drunk. He will not remember you.”

Jasper opened his mouth to respond, but Pati had turned his back and kept walking. Jasper followed him despite the insult. If he wanted any chance of finding his mother, he had no choice.

After Jasper walked over a mile on sore legs, a large barnlike building emerged from between the trees. Several pickup trucks were parked around it in the open spaces between the pines. “This is the game house,” Pati said, motioning at the building. “White people come to play games they cannot play out there.”

Jasper remembered what Dr. Whitebird had told him. “Games for money.”

“Yes.” Pati led Jasper through the stand of trees to the side of the building. “We are not allowed inside, but you can see through here.” He pointed to an opening in the siding.

Jasper pressed his face to the boards and squinted to see. The room inside was dark and full of smoke. Low voices and clinking glasses mixed with scratchy music from a record player. Four men sat holding cards at a table right in front of him. There were stacks of blue and red chips beside them. At the next table, a woman stood handing out cards. Jasper’s heart leapt when he saw her dark hair, but it only took another second to see she wasn’t his mother.

Around the room there were several more tables half full with people. A man was sitting facedown at an empty table in the far corner. There were two other women walking around. One was handing out cigarettes. The other was handing out drinks. Neither of them was her. In the far corner, an old man sat at a full table with a young woman on his lap. He was whispering something in her ear. She laughed. The sagging, pale face of Arthur Hoyt was unmistakable as he grinned and nuzzled her neck. On reflex, Jasper shrank away from the wall.

Somewhere up in the hayloft, a door slammed. He couldn’t make out what was up there through the dark, but he didn’t smell any hay. Just smoke and sweat.

“Why uh . . . why do they come here to play games?” Jasper whispered, keeping his eyes on Hoyt and the girl. His aunt and uncle played cards with the neighbors from time to time. It didn’t seem like such a big deal.

“It’s against the white laws,” Pati whispered back. “But police don’t come here.”

“Why not?”

A crash came from the far side of the room. It was a man throwing his glass to the floor. He stood up, shouting at another man holding the cards. Jasper recoiled. It was Big Bill.

“Goddamn it! You bluffed me! You dirty red son of a bitch! You bluffed
me
!” the enormous man bellowed and threw his cards into another man’s face. “This whole place is rigged. You bastards are cheatin’. You’ve been talkin’ in signals this whole time.”

Jasper watched with growing alarm as two large Manitonaaha men grabbed Big Bill by either arm and pulled him toward the exit at the end of the barn. The door was just around the corner from where the two boys were crouched. Jasper stepped back, scanning the bushes for a place to hide.

“You know him,” Pati said.

“He can’t find me here,” Jasper hissed.

Without a word, Pati grabbed Jasper by the collar and dragged him behind a high stack of firewood separating the dumpsters from the parking lot. On the other end of the building from where they hid, a door slammed open.

“You stupid Injuns. Don’t you know who I am? Get your hands off me!”

A voice answered him in a low tone that Jasper couldn’t quite make out.

“I don’t give a goddamn about the house rules. That featherhead’s a cheat! You better get me my money back and then some, or I’m gonna have the lot of you arrested! Gamblin’, prostitution, you name it! Ol’ Duncan will have a field day! He’ll set fire to the lot of you.”

The voices were getting louder. Jasper and Pati crouched behind the woodpile as they approached. On the other side of their hiding place, two trucks and a sedan were lined up. Jasper caught his breath when he realized that’s where the men were headed.

“Save your fire. I will talk to Sakima,” a familiar voice answered. Jasper squinted through the gaps in the pile at the backs of two heads.

“Fuck you, Motega,” Big Bill slurred. He was drunk, but not too drunk to shove the taller man in the chest. “I want my money now.”

“You will get your money,” Motega said in a barely controlled voice. “If I disrupt the games, it will be chaos.”

“Here’s your chaos.” Bill spit and pulled out a gun. “Now get me my money.”

“If you cannot wait, you will have to shoot me.” Motega smiled and stepped toward the drunk. “I am not afraid of death. Are you?”

Big Bill staggered back. “It’d better be here tomorrow, understand? All three hundred.”

“Of course.” Motega took another threatening step forward. Jasper could see his menacing profile. His stone jaw clamped in rage.

Bill thrust his gun in Motega’s face again. “And I want to know where she went! We know she came back here.”

Motega shoved him against his car. “I told you. She is not here. Tell Galatas to leave our people be.”

“You’re giving orders now?” Bill let out a drunken snort. He pushed Motega off his chest and pointed the gun at his head. “You can’t touch me. I could shoot you right here, and no one would even blink an eye. You think Marshal Duncan would waste one sheet of paper on you? Now where is she?”

Motega swatted the pistol from Bill’s hand as though it were a fly and grabbed him by the neck. “You cannot hide from what you’ve done. Justice will come for my people. One way or another.”

Big Bill let out a strangled wheeze, and Motega released him. “You dumb son of a bitch,” he coughed, stumbling. “No one’s gonna listen to you. Shit, I’d be surprised if Duncan don’t hang that last collar right around your neck. Poor girl, brutalized like that. It’s a real shame the way you wild folks turn on each other.”

Motega punched him dead in the face, sending Bill sprawling across the hood of his car. Jasper clamped a hand over his mouth.

Big Bill rolled back onto his feet and laughed. His big yellow teeth were red with blood. “Ya see how violent you people are? That right there’s assault and battery. All I have to do is go to the marshal with this here bloody nose, and you’re finished. You just made his job a whole lot easier.”

Motega glowered down at him and said in a barely audible voice, “All sorts of people go missing out here in these woods. Remember that policeman from Detroit you boys brought a few days ago? The one with a bullet between his eyes . . . What makes you think they would ever find
you
, my friend?”

A bullet between his eyes.
Blood splattered and dripped down the wall of the apartment in Jasper’s mind. Mrs. Carbo had said something about a gunshot on the phone. And a sergeant.

Bill chortled and patted Motega on the shoulder. “I’m glad we understand each other. Listen, you’re gonna help us find her or Marshal Duncan’ll sweep in here with a paddy wagon and the dogs. Imagine when the good people of this state learn what you savages been up to out here. What will your children eat this winter? Huh?”

“I do not have children,” Motega growled in his face, and for a moment it seemed as though he would tear out the man’s throat with his teeth.

“Well, that’s too bad . . . But think about all the other families.” Big Bill staggered around to his car door and climbed inside. “You tell Althea to call me. You got two days . . . I’d hate for something to happen to
her
family.”

He sped off before Motega could say another word. The large man watched him leave, then walked over to the side of the parking lot and picked up the gun.

CHAPTER 38

Did you ever do anything you regret?

The two boys waited until the sedan had squealed away and Motega had returned to the game house before climbing out from the woodpile. They walked back to Dr. Whitebird’s clinic in awkward silence. Jasper could tell Pati felt just as unnerved about what they had seen as he did. A part of him wanted to apologize for dragging the boy out there and for every bad thing Big Bill had said, but he was too busy replaying the conversation over in his own head.

Galatas. Marshal Duncan. Poor girl.
It all jumbled together, but one sentence repeated over and over in his head.
You tell Althea to call me.

Finally, Pati spoke. “Did you find the one you were looking for?”

Jasper shook his head and glanced over at the boy next to him. His dark eyes were like Dr. Whitebird’s. They seemed to know things. Jasper hoped they did. “Do you know that man? The white one talking to Motega?”

“He works for the head white man they call Galatas. It was Galatas that built the game house, and Galatas keeps the money. My mother says it has been nothing but a curse on our people.” Pati spit on the ground for emphasis.

“But why do you let them come here? Doesn’t the land belong to your tribe?”

“Nothing belongs to our people. Not anymore.” Pati sighed at Jasper’s ignorant frown. “Nimaamaa says they tricked us. The game house was supposed to bring our people money for supplies and food, but it was a lie. The white men come and take our money. They come to get drunk and do things much worse than gambling. She says they have brought a great shame upon us and poisoned our people. They are killers. Fucking bastards.”

Jasper’s eyes bulged at the curse and the shock of everything else he’d said.
Killers.
The picture of the girl, the girl with brown eyes. He could see her standing outside his door. His voice dropped to a whisper. “What happened to the poor girl he talked about?”

“Nimaamaa won’t tell me.” Pati kicked a rock down the dirt path. “I just know that during the last moon Ayasha came to the clinic very hurt, and then she died.”

Jasper stopped walking. “Did they find out who hurt her?”

“Nimaamaa and Dr. Whitebird believe it was one of the white men who like to gamble and drink.”

“Did the police find him?”

“What police?” Pati held his hands up to the sky in surrender. “Tribal police can’t arrest the white men. They are not allowed. Your sheriff does not protect us. These men come and do what they want, and the police do not come. The only one that comes is the federal marshal. And when the marshal comes, it is only to take our fathers to your prisons.”

Pati put his head down and kept walking. Jasper stared after him, unable to move.

“Are you coming?” the boy called over his shoulder.

The campfire where the man had sat roasting his fish was still burning, but the man and his fish were gone. Jasper forced his aching legs to keep moving, searching for something to say. He finally whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You did not kill her.”

Jasper walked in silence for a minute, then said, “There has to be something you can do.”

“Ogimaa has tried. But the white men are dangerous. Galatas will burn our cornfields so we might starve. They burned one already. They say Black River owes money to Galatas for the buildings and the general store they built. If we do not pay the debt, they will take our medicine and all the food. They will arrest our fathers for the white men’s crimes and drag them to jail. No one will believe us.”

Jasper studied Pati with a raised eyebrow, not wanting to believe any of it. “Did your mom tell you that?”

Pati’s black eyes flashed with anger. “You think I lie.”

“No! I just don’t . . . It’s just that grown-ups don’t tell kids that stuff.”

“Nimaamaa tells me plenty. She tells me I must learn to be careful around the white men. I must learn to look after my sisters and friends. I must never drink the firewater or try their bad medicines. Careless boys go to jail. Careless girls get dragged away. White men do what they please.”

Jasper stared at his feet, feeling like he was somehow to blame. All the farmers, even Uncle Leo, were suspicious of the Manitonaaha. “Motega said something about a policeman from Detroit. The one shot between the eyes. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“No one speaks of the dead, but new graves appear in these woods now and then. The white men bury their dead here when they don’t want them found.”

New graves.
The two boys were almost back to the clinic. Jasper thought of his mother’s car buried out in the woods. “Do you know the woman Bill was looking for?”

The boy stopped walking. “He was looking for your mother.”

Jasper’s mouth fell open, but Pati held up his hand to silence him.

“We all know her here. Do not worry. We won’t help him find her.”

The Indian boy pulled open the door to the clinic. Jasper walked through it in a daze. Before he could think of anything else to say, Pati was gone.

“Did you have a nice walk?” The nurse’s smile fell as she looked up from the desk. “Oh, goodness. Sit down, little fish. You look pale.”

She rushed over to him and eased him onto a seat. Her warm hand felt his forehead, and her fingertips pulled his eyelids down so she could check the color.

“I—I’m fine,” he stammered, finding his voice. “I guess I just got a little tired. I’ll be okay.”

“I will get you tea,” she said after she was satisfied he wasn’t going to keel over. She stood up from his side and swept through the doorway.

Jasper slumped back in the chair, not feeling any better. Bill’s voice seethed in his ear.
You got two days.
The words stuck in his head as the nurse came back through the door with a steaming cup in her hand.

“Here. This will warm the blood.” She knelt down next to him and tipped the cup to his lips.

“Thank you.” He took the hot mug in his hands.

She placed a gentle hand on his cheek with a pained expression on her face, as though looking at him hurt her insides. Like something was wrong with him.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, not liking the way her eyes held his.

She nodded and went back to her desk. “Your uncle will be here soon.”

“Thanks.” Jasper took another sip of tea and wondered what he should tell Uncle Leo. He didn’t want to betray Pati by revealing their trip to the game house, but he felt like he should say something about what he’d heard. A policeman was dead. He gazed up at Pati’s mother and thought of the girl who had died during the last moon.
Do you know who killed me?

Before he’d decided what to tell his uncle, the door to the clinic swung open. Uncle Leo and Wayne both grinned when they saw Jasper in the corner sipping his tea.

“How are we feelin’ today?” Uncle Leo beamed. “You still got both legs?”

Jasper forced a smile. “Yep!”

“They still work?” his uncle said, tapping him gently on his good knee.

“Yeah. I just got back from a walk.”

“You don’t know how lucky you are, kiddo!”

“Yeah,” Wayne agreed. “Last year Jim Jenkins stepped on a rusty nail, and they had to cut off his whole foot!”

Jasper’s smile dropped at this revelation, and he stared down at his bandages.

“Take it easy, Wayne.” Uncle Leo shot his son a look. “Let’s see what we have to do to get Jasper out of here.”

His uncle went over to the nurse to discuss his discharge. She handed him a stack of bandages and started giving instructions on cleaning and caring for the wound for the next week. Wayne plopped himself down on the chair next to Jasper.

“What was it like staying at the res?” he whispered. “Didya see anything strange? Did they dance around a fire?”

“No,” Jasper hissed, glancing up at the kind nurse. “They were really nice.”

“Did they do any witch doctor stuff?” Wayne elbowed him in the ribs.

“No . . . Well. Sorta . . .”
The sleep tea.
It had brought his mother back for one fleeting, precious moment. But he hated to hear Dr. Whitebird being called a witch doctor.

Thankfully, it was time to leave. The nurse’s voice stopped him in the doorway. “Wait. Don’t forget these.” She handed him Miss Babcock’s book and a second one he almost didn’t recognize.

“Oh, thanks.” He shoved the embarrassing cover of
The First Book of Indians
under his arm and scowled at the second book she gave him. It was his children’s Bible from back home, the one his mother had shoved into the bottom of his suitcase.
Everybody’s a sinner, Jasper.

“You take care, little fish.”

His uncle placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him through the door. “They feed you okay in there?”

“Uh . . . Yes, sir.” Jasper held up the Bible and asked, “Why did you . . . ?”

His words fell flat against his uncle’s back as the man climbed into the truck.

“C’mon, Jas!” Wayne pulled him by the arm. Jasper let himself be dragged into the cab and just set the two books on his lap. Uncle Leo had probably brought it, thinking he needed all the prayers he could muster. He covered Baby Jesus’s face with his hands and gazed out the window at the rows of beat-up trailers and tiny cabins as they pulled down the hill.
As long as you have a Bible in the house, nobody seems to mind.

“Well, your aunt is fixin’ a proper feast in honor of your return. Steaks and all!”

“Yeah?” Jasper tried to sound enthusiastic.

He memorized landmarks all five miles back to Harris Road.

It wasn’t until they were pulling down the two-track drive to his uncle’s cabin that Jasper noticed something bulging under the cover of one of the books. He waited until his cousin had climbed out of the truck before opening
The First Book of Indians
to see what had been left there. It was a black-and-white feather. An eagle feather, he decided after studying it for a few moments. He’d read in the book that eagle feathers were given to young warriors after their first battle. He frowned as he picked it up from the pages and turned it over in his hand.

Under the feather, some words were scrawled lightly in pencil: “Have faith, little warrior.” Jasper read the words twice.

“You stayin’ out here all night?” his uncle asked, holding the driver’s side door open.

“Uh. No, sir.” Jasper snapped the book shut and climbed out of the truck.

Jasper didn’t say a word at dinner. His father had driven in from Detroit to join them in celebrating his recovery. Jasper sat next to him and managed to smile as Wendell slapped him on the back. He still hadn’t told his father how he’d found his way back to the farm, about Not Lucy or the insane bus driver, and he was glad. It was as if it had happened in another lifetime. None of it seemed to matter now. Not with Big Bill’s warning hanging over his head.

Two days.

“. . . what he lacks in good sense, he makes up for in luck. Don’t he?”

“That and his father’s good looks.” His uncle and dad had a laugh over the steak. His father squeezed his shoulder, and Jasper tried not to wince. There were so many questions he needed to ask, but—

“I don’t know what in the world is so funny. It’s a miracle he survived at all,” Aunt Velma protested halfheartedly. This only seemed to make the men laugh more.

She cleared the plates and served up chocolate cream pie for dessert. On any other occasion, Jasper would have asked for seconds, but he could hardly choke down a single bite. She might still be out there somewhere.
Hiding.
He thought about how terrified he’d felt crouching in the hayloft just three nights earlier. He dropped his fork.

“You feelin’ alright, hon?” his aunt asked.

Everyone stopped eating and looked at him.

Jasper squirmed in his seat. “I’m just a little tired.”

“Of course you are, dear. Get yourself to bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes to change those bandages.” Aunt Velma waved him from the table.

Jasper nodded. His legs were sore and itchy, and he couldn’t bear to sit there for one more minute, pretending everything was fine. It wasn’t fine. It would never be fine again. Some poor girl was murdered, and a policeman had been shot, and his mother was missing, and Big Bill was going to do something terrible if she didn’t turn up. He shuffled away from the table and ducked behind the curtain into the tiny nook where he and Wayne slept. Even though he was technically in the same room as the rest of them, he breathed a little easier behind the linen divider. The table conversation quieted down and turned to discussions of the harvest.

Jasper removed the clothes he’d worn for the last two days, careful not to let the tiny beads of his mother’s necklace rattle together. He pulled the heavy loop over his head and searched the room for a place he could hide it. His uncle had found it in the mattress. His aunt would go through his suitcase. Nowhere was safe. He slipped it back onto his neck and pulled his nightshirt over it. He’d have to find a proper hiding place tomorrow, he decided, but he liked having it with him, her beads next to his heart.
Nimaamaa.

On the other side of the curtain, the grown-up voices were discussing how many days they’d have to borrow Old Hoyt’s thresher.
That son of a bitch Hoyt.
His uncle still thought of him as a friend and neighbor while the old bastard sat drunk in the gaming house with some poor girl on his knee. It was enough to make Jasper want to scream.

His father offered to come help with the harvest that Saturday in between the clinks and scrapes of forks and knives.

“Thank you, Wen, but I’m afraid the rains are due early this year,” Uncle Leo said. “I already talked to Motega. Four men from Black River are coming tomorrow. Velma, we’ll need three days’ board.”

Jasper gaped at the curtain.

“I’m not sure I’ve got the stores for that,” Velma said with a faint hint of irritation in her voice.