Wind Shadow (14 page)

He reached up, pulling the short bill of his safety helmet forward. “Yeah? You think they got firecrackers?”

Silky laughed. “I’ll bet you a can of soda they do.”

“How ’bout a beer?” he queried, his face comically deadpan.

“Cute kid.” She reached out in playful reprimand and tapped the brim of his helmet, sliding it lower on his forehead.

He grunted. “I ain’t.”

Silky watched out of the corner of her eye as the skin-behind his freckles flushed a rosy pink. His expression soured as he frowned and slouched forward. Her brows compressed in confusion. What had upset him—that she’d called him “cute,” or “kid”?

Shadows were long when word was passed back that they would soon be reaching their destination. Though the weather had been good, for Silky it had been a long, dreary day. She was looking forward to tomorrow’s festivities. Maybe a celebration would help take her mind off her troubles. She certainly hoped so!

“No hot dogs for me.” Silky pushed open the door of the cheerful new school building and walked out into a stiff breeze. Dodging the whipping American flag and the sky blue Alaskan state flag that were planted proudly on either side of the cement steps, she nudged Annie, challenging, “We want to try the smoked fish, don’t we?”

Annie ran both hands through her curls and inhaled deeply. Silky had no doubt about her answer. She’d do or say anything to be different.
Putting a thin arm about their chubby hostess, Genny Chocolate, president of the village corporation, Annie assured, “Hot dogs are for tourists, kiddo.” She pursed her lips as though she were about to expound greatness. “Like I always say. When in Rome—eat the smoked fish.”

Genny’s round face lit up. A vivacious forty-year-old, Genny looked half her age, with short-cropped, blue-black hair and shiny, dark eyes. Genny and several others of the village leaders had been kind enough to take the pack under their collective wing and accompany them throughout the day’s festivities. Silky couldn’t think of a better way to learn about the natives in her adopted state, and she was determined to learn all that she could.

Genny patted Annie’s hand as it rested on her shoulder. “Good girls. I’ll let you in on a little secret. It really hurts the elders when outsiders make fun of our traditional foods and the old ways. Your open-mindedness is—”

George pushed open the door with Riva and Wade close behind. Silky, Annie and Genny moved to the bottom of the four cement steps to clear the way. Riva nodded to them. “Hi, ladies. Georgie, Wade and I are going to join Dan and Beth for hot dogs. Want to go with us?”

Annie took her arm from about Genny’s shoulders and shook her head. “Naw. Silk wants some smoked fish, and I’ve got my taste buds all primed for some caribou jerky and a big bowl of Eskimo ice cream.”

“Good God!” Riva put a theatrical hand to her throat, making the muffled sound of someone who was about to be very ill. “I heard how they make that ice cream, Ann. It’s mainly boiled fish and lard with some sugar and berries mixed in. I’d die before I’d eat that stuff!” She smiled sweetly down at Genny, shrugging back her dark hair. “No offense, of course, Mrs. Chocolate.”

Genny’s smile was pleasant, but Silky could see a very slight narrowing of her eyes. Genny had not been pleased by Riva’s thoughtless remark, yet her answer was gracious. “No offense taken. Many people feel as you do.” She put her arms about Silky and Annie’s backs. “Now, if you’ll excuse us?”

Wade asked, “What are they doing over there, Genny?”

“At the fire?” Genny turned in the direction he had indicated. “Oh, they’re burning smoked fish skins. It makes a crispy snack. Would you like to try some?” She smiled inquisitively, almost suspiciously, up at Wade, who was nearly twice her height.

His grin was lopsided and easy. “Nothing ventured …” His eyes slid casually to Silky’s before he continued, “Nothing gained. Let’s go.” He stepped away from George and Riva. “I’ll see you folks later at the drum dances.”

“Oh, great, Wade. Do join us.” Annie laughed, reaching around Genny to poke Silky teasingly in the ribs. “Like I always say, there’s nothing
like a little snack in the woods to brighten a man’s day. Right, Silk?”

Silky said nothing, hoping that her stare would convey the message that she’d received Annie’s shrouded little innuendo, and that someday she would get her just revenge. She only hoped Wade hadn’t realized what Annie had meant! Breaking eye contact, she turned away. But she was uncomfortably aware of Wade’s presence at her back. The air crackled around her, and she felt flushed. It was ridiculous, she knew, but that didn’t alter the fact that she felt like she was about to be jabbed with a cattle prod. Breathing slowly and deeply, she worked at slowing her heart rate. Why did Wade’s presence unbalance her metabolism so? He was like a six-foot flu bug.

While the other three chatted, Silky tried to concentrate on anything else, looking desperately about her. She couldn’t pronounce the Eskimo name of the village, but Genny had explained that it meant “Precious Home.” With a population of a little over two hundred, this “Precious Home” was a streetless village, dotted with windswept huts and frame houses sitting almost shyly among sawtooth-edged spruce. They had traveled nearly a mile down a deeply rutted dirt road to reach the remote village, but the side trip had been worth it. The natives had taken them in like family, given freely of themselves and their possessions—food, entertainment—all free. These kindhearted people were selflessly
giving the biking pack of strangers a Fourth of July that Silky would always remember.

She looked to her left to scan what would have been Main Street, had there been a street. There were only two log buildings there. One was the general store, with a crudely painted sign that read just that. The other was the village community center, used for all town meetings. But the largest and newest building in town was the one they had just left. The schoolhouse, Genny had explained earlier, had been the result of monies provided for long-neglected native villages through the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act of 1971. Their schoolhouse, with carpeted classrooms and rubber-compound gym floor, was their pride, and the focal point of most of the holiday activities.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Wade’s voice, deep and inquisitive, broke through her thoughts. “Would you like one?” He held a frizzled fish skin toward her. With a reassuring gesture, he added, “It’s good.” Silky nodded, accepting it with a smile.

“And now”—Genny dusted her hands on her faded jeans—“let’s get some cranberry juice to wash it down. And if you’re still game, we’ll try some ice cream.”

They weaved their way in and out of wandering natives and other packers who were eating traditional Eskimo fare or downing hot dogs and pop. Round-faced native children ran barefoot through the noisy throngs, setting off firecrackers
and giggling at the surprised reactions of their elders.

“Hey!” Silky turned in unison with her small group to see Ice waving and hurrying toward them. Randy’s head was caught in the crook of Ice’s arm, and he was being dragged reluctantly along. When Ice reached them, he let the boy go, giving him an affectionate scruffing on the head. “Is this muscle-head something or isn’t he? I hope you people didn’t miss the head-pull contest!”

Wade chuckled, handing the boy a fish skin. “No, we all saw it. Congratulations, Randy.” Scanning the activity around the fire, Randy silently munched on the skin without comment.

Ice crossed his arms in front of him, puffing out his chest. “I swear that kid he beat had him by a good twenty pounds.”

“Aw, Ice,” Randy mumbled. “He was prob’ly only ten or eleven—just a kid.” Plugging his pockets with his hands, he dropped his eyes to the ground, embarrassed by the praise.

“Maybe so, but he was six-two if he was an inch. Besides, you’ve never done the head pull before.” Turning toward the group, he lifted his glasses to his head, reliving the event with uncharacteristic excitement.

“Actually, Randy, the boy you beat was thirteen. You should be very proud.” Genny’s smile was encouraging. “Are you going to enter any more games?”

Randy shook his head, but didn’t look up.

“Are there more?” Ice was interested.

Genny motioned for Randy and Ice to join their group. “After lunch, yes. We still have the seal hop, knee jump, one-foot-high kick and leg wrestling. The boys and girls love the competitions.”

“Apparently the parents aren’t bored by them either,” Wade interjected with a wry look toward Ice.

Genny giggled. “Oh, you’re so right. It’s our homemade version of the Native Youth Olympics. The games are just a few years old. They were started in hopes that the young people of Alaska won’t forget the traditional contests of their forefathers.”

Randy looked surprised. “Them kids gotta be tough, I guess,” he mumbled.

Silky was first to voice the question as she put a hand to Randy’s chin, lifting it. “What do you mean, champ?”

He skewed his mouth to the side and shrugged. “Heck, if they had four fathers—I’m only on my second, but I know it’s tough to keep changin’ dads.”

Silky felt a threatening tingle behind her eyes as tears began to well up. Her throat closed in mortification at this brief glimpse of the boy’s raw scars at being abandoned, first by his real father, then his mother and soon …

A look of compassion swept across Genny’s sweet face. She patted the boy’s shoulder. “No, dear, forefathers just means ancestors.”

“Oh.” Randy blinked at the short woman who stood at exactly his eye level.

Ice’s quick movement caught Silky’s eye. He lowered his mirrored glasses over his eyes. But before he did, Silky was sure that she had seen them cloud. She gritted her teeth with the reminder that they would be leaving for Whitehorse tomorrow, and it was now only a matter of days before Randy was to be left with a stranger. Soon, she would have to tell him that, and her insides churned with the distasteful reminder.

Wade cleared his throat, drawing Silky’s eyes. He seemed to be searching for a more pleasant subject. “I—I heard something about drum dances. What are they?”

“Drum dances?” With a quick nod, Genny directed the group to follow her down a well-trod path. “They’ll be tonight. The village boys and girls pantomime traditional Eskimo ways: seal hunting, picking salmonberries, stalking geese—” She cocked her head over her shoulder and lifted her lips in shy humor. “We even have a basketball dance, but it’s fairly new.”

“Mrs. Chocolate,” Randy asked, “when’s fireworks?”

“Late, Randy. It’ll be long after midnight before it’s dark enough. But it’ll be worth waiting for.” She pointed toward a frame house, freshly painted a light yellow. “Here’s Anishia Friendly’s place. She makes the ice cream. And I know she always has cranberry juice ready. How about some?”

Silky took a deep breath, steadying herself for
the experience by trying not to think about either fish or lard. “I’m game.”

“Me too.” From the sound of his voice, Wade had moved up very close behind her, and her skin began to tingle, alerting her metabolism to go haywire again. Oh, why didn’t he just go away!

Annie peeped inside the open door. “Anishia Friendly? Eskimo ice cream made under that label can’t be bad.”

“Are you a glutton, or just a glutton for punishment?” Annie grimaced sympathetically toward Silky’s dessert dish after the huge offering of the outdoor celebration dinner. “First, porcupine roast, fish eggs and cooked fiddleheads, and now cranberry-and-whitefish
agutuk?
” She lifted a forkfull of chocolate cake. “Honey, not even the Eskimos are eating only Alaskan dishes. There are limits, you know. Give yourself a break.”

Silky pushed the side of her fork into the dessert, shaking her head. “No, Annie. I may never have the chance to taste this food again.”

Popping the chocolate cake in her mouth, Annie said sarcastically, “Yeah, I know.” She mumbled around the mouthfull of food, “You’re no quitter. Okay, Napoleon, it’s your Waterloo. Just don’t come crawling to me at four o’clock in the morning with an
agutuk
-ache.”

Silky chewed the slightly sweet dessert, fairly sure that she wouldn’t mind never having it again, but glad, at least, that she’d tried it. She scanned the neatly kept grounds in front of the
white-painted school building, where ten of the cafeteria tables had been set up and piled high with all types of Alaskan and more traditionally known American foods.

Villagers and packers alike had filled and refilled their plates and picnicked on blankets or grassy spots beneath the Sitka spruce. The day had been long, but exciting, with the tour of the village and schoolhouse, and the Youth Olympics. Silky shifted, crossing her legs in front of her. Yet to come was the children’s presentation of the traditional drum dances in the school auditorium, and then the procession to the bank of the local creek, where the fireworks would be enjoyed in the brief summer night.

She put her plate down on the borrowed quilt, swallowing. Closing her eyes, she frowned at the odd feeling of disquiet in her stomach.

“What is it, Sil?” Rex asked. Sitting across the patchwork blanket from her, he put his plate down and leaned forward.

Annie groaned. “She’s sick! I knew it!” Putting a gentle hand on Silky’s, she asked, “Didn’t I tell you so?”

Rex pulled up on his knees, moving closer to her. “Are you?”

Silky moved her head in a way that wasn’t quite a negative shake or a positive nod. “I—I hope not.” She ran shaky fingers through the fine blond hair at her temple. “But I think I would like to go to my tent and lie down for a while.”

“I’ll take you.” Annie put a supportive hand to
Silky’s elbow and was about to help her up when Rex interrupted.

“No need, Annie. I’ll go with her.” He quickly stood and bent to help Silky up.

Annie looked at him with narrow suspicion. “We’ll both take her.”

“I will!” Rex took Silky by the shoulders, drawing her tightly to him. She could feel her stomach churn as she thudded into his side. “You go find Leonard and pester him for a while. Then when you make him sick, you can help him to his tent.”

“Hey, you two—why don’t you go on and fight. I’ll just toddle off to die, okay?” Silky’s voice was so weak, it sobered her two overzealous protectors.