by Thomas King
“I could see Blazing Saddles again,” says Florence.
“They want to build us a new council office,” says Louis. “New houses. Dig a well. New septic. Solar panels. You should have seen the list of stuff. What did they call us?”
“A demonstration community,” says Enola. “Christmas come early.”
Wapi puts the binoculars down. “Christmas.”
Louis nods. “Brown paper packages tied up with string.”
Florence turns on me. “What the hell do they want you to do? Kill the pope?”
I keep my eyes on the foam at the bottom of my cup.
“You know Billy Tom down in Brantford? Mohawk Construction?” Louis taps his fingers on the table. “He’s going to help us build a new band office.”
“Doing it on our own will take a little longer,” says Enola, “but we wouldn’t have to worry about the strings.”
“More like ropes,” says Louis. “Whites don’t give away anything for nothing. There’s a bill somewhere that someone has to pay.”
Florence looks at me. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“So, Emma thanked Mr. Flood and told him that we would have to think about the offer.” Enola’s eyes are dancing. “Emma says he looked shocked.”
I would have paid to see Oliver Flood in a state of shock.
“And then he started laughing. Not a big belly laugh. Emma said it was more like one of those chuckles you hear in a scary movie just before someone gets their head chopped off.”
“Whites are crazy,” says Florence. “But rich Whites are insane.”
“In any case,” says Louis, “we’ll be okay.”
“New city council is making friendly noises,” says Enola. “Emma’s going to sit down with them next week about utilities.”
I’m hoping that Florence will offer me another macchiato.
“You paying attention?” Florence takes my cup and rinses it out. “They’re not doing this for you.”
“Don’t need you running up a tab with some fancy foundation on our account,” says Louis. “We can look after ourselves.”
“Just what the hell do they want you to do?” says Florence.
THE TESLA IS PARKED in the shade of the graveyard. Oliver Flood is sitting on a folding chair. He’s taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. As though he’s thinking about doing manual labour.
“I pulled up a couple crosses,” he says. “It was fun.”
I look around for Spot and Rover.
“I suppose you heard that the band council is thinking of turning us down.” Flood gets to his feet. “That’s something that doesn’t happen often.”
The crows are nowhere to be seen. I would have expected them to show up for the grand finale.
“Most times, people fall all over themselves to get to a trough.” Flood stretches. “It’s mildly refreshing. Though it does present us with a problem. We may not have anything to offer you in exchange for your co-operation. What to do? What to do?”
They’ve probably found a dead skunk on the road. Or something equally appealing.
“Ms. Locken’s gardening plans haven’t changed.” Flood makes a snipping motion with his fingers. “Of course, there’s always the chance that this approach might catch on, might lead to an unbridled enthusiasm on the part of the hoi polloi to cut down the orchard.”
The sky is empty. The trees are deserted.
“Wouldn’t that be something.” Flood’s face softens. Sorrow perhaps. Or simply melancholy. “The wholesale slaughter of the insanely wealthy. The best of times, the worst of times.”
Flood fixes me with his eyes.
“It’s not likely though, is it. You’ve already considered that possibility, haven’t you?”
I have.
“And you would have concluded that the commitment and tenacity needed for such an undertaking does not exist.”
Flood is correct. We would have to be crows.
“Which brings us back to the matter at hand.” Flood brushes his pants, slips into his jacket. “Who knows. You might find you enjoy pruning,” he says. “I know I do.”
ADA AND NUTTY, Emma and Roman, and Lala are in the kitchen. There’s a big bowl of potato chips on the table, along with a deck of cards. Ada has a green visor on that shades her eyes.
“We’re going to play blackjoe,” Lala sings out when she sees me.
“Jack,” says Ada. “Blackjack.”
Next to the bowl of chips is my mother’s lunch box.
“Pancakes was in your room again,” says Lala. “Sometimes she won’t listen to me.”
Ada touches her visor. “I’ll be house.”
“You’re always house,” says Nutty.
“You’re all going down,” says Roman. “I’ve played blackjack in Las Vegas.”
Lala opens the lunch box and takes out the photographs.
“Pancakes was licking the pictures, but I saved them.”
I reach for the photographs, but Ada beats me to them. She picks up the one of my mother in front of the motorcycle, and turns it to the light.
“Would you look at this,” she says. “Would you just look at this.”
“That’s Pop-Up’s mum-mum.”
Ada squints at the photograph. “No, it ain’t,” she says. “That ain’t Ruby.”
Nutty takes the photograph and holds it out at arm’s length. “You’re right.”
Ada hands the picture back to Lala. “That’s me, honey. When I was a young woman.”
Lala holds up the second photograph. “So, this is Pop-Up’s mum-mum?”
Ada looks at the image and shakes her head. “Got no idea who that is. Maybe it was one of Ruby’s friends.”
I don’t bother to collect the photos. I leave them where they lie.
“Okay,” says Roman. “Deal and die.”
“You keep eating the chips,” says Ada, “we won’t have a game.”
Emma smiles at me. “It’s supposed to help her with her counting. I send my child to school so she can learn card games?”
“Your boyfriend was here,” says Roman. “The one with the fancy SUV and the big ideas.”
“He scared off the crows,” says Nutty. “Slick tried to put up a brave front, but he disappeared as soon as the guy stepped out of the car.”
Ada deals out the cards. “Man could frighten pigeons.”
“Malibu had her puppies.” Lala shows me her hand.
“She had five,” says Nutty. “Cute little things. All warm and wiggly. Almost as good as babies.”
“If you like dogs,” says Roman.
Lala is holding a queen and a jack. “Pop-Up gets third pick.”
“You missed the big presentation at council,” says Nutty. “Those foundation people had a video with music and everything. Pretty impressive.”
“Sure,” says Ada. “But I’m not sure I’m going to vote for it.”
“What about that WiFi?” says Roman. “Wapi really likes that internet.”
“And satellite television,” says Nutty. “Baseball sure looks good on that big screen.”
“I’m not saying I won’t vote for it,” says Ada.
“New band office, new houses.” Emma takes a hit and winds up with nineteen. “It’s a substantial package, that’s for sure.”
“Imagine that’s how Adam and Eve felt about apples,” says Roman.
Ada busts on twenty-three, pays the winners, and scoops up the cards. “So, you plan on staying?” she says.
“Of course he’s staying,” says Nutty. “Where else would he go?”
“He stays if we say so,” says Roman.
“Since you’re not using that laptop,” says Ada, “maybe you want to give it to Wapi.”
“His tablet is pretty much shot,” says Emma.
“You want to be part of the community,” says Roman, “then be part of the community.”
I don’t sit down. And I don’t hang around to see who winds up with all the chips. I leave the
gamblers, grab my work clothes and my tools.
“Don’t worry,” Lala calls out after me. “I’ll help you pick your puppy, and I’ll help you name it.”
I SPEND THE REST of the day at the old riverbed, gathering stones, loading them on my wagon, dragging them back to the graveyard. I hear the crows off somewhere in the distance.
But I don’t see them until evening.
They float into the trees on the failing light, a few at a time, making sure that it’s safe to show themselves. Slick drops to the ground, stands on one of the stones, and waits. As though he expects a peanut. Or an explanation.
Or an apology.
I finish chiselling Mary Camp’s name. It’s not dark. I could start on another grave. But I don’t. I sit back and enjoy the cool air and the soft shadows.
The crows wait patiently. I suppose I could ask them for their opinion.
Stay. Go.
Ash Locken and Oliver Flood.
The school. The reserve. The town.
But I don’t. All things considered, I doubt that the birds care.
About the Author
THOMAS KING is an award-winning writer and photographer. His critically acclaimed, bestselling books include Medicine River; Green Grass, Running Water; One Good Story, That One; Truth and Bright Water; A Short History of Indians in Canada; The Back of the Turtle (winner of the Governor General’s Literary Award for Fiction); The Inconvenient Indian (winner of the RBC Taylor Prize); the DreadfulWater mystery series; the poetry collection 77 Fragments of a Familiar Ruin; and Indians on Vacation. A Companion of the Order of Canada and the recipient of a National Aboriginal Achievement Award, Thomas King lives in Guelph, Ontario.
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Also by Thomas King
FICTION
Medicine River
Green Grass, Running Water
One Good Story, That One
Truth and Bright Water
A Short History of Indians in Canada
The Back of the Turtle
Indians on Vacation
DREADFULWATER MYSTERIES
DreadfulWater
The Red Power Murders
Cold Skies
A Matter of Malice
Obsidian
NON-FICTION
The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative
The Inconvenient Indian: A Curious Account of Native People in North America
CHILDREN’S ILLUSTRATED BOOKS
A Coyote Columbus Story, illustrated by William Kent Monkman
Coyote Sings to the Moon, illustrated by Johnny Wales
Coyote’s New Suit, illustrated by Johnny Wales
A Coyote Solstice Tale, illustrated by Gary Clement
Coyote Tales, illustrated by Byron Eggenschwiler
POETRY
77 Fragments of a Familiar Ruin
Copyright
Sufferance
Copyright © 2021 by Dead Dog Café Productions Inc.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
The book’s epigraph is from Nunnally Johnson’s screenplay of The Grapes of Wrath (1940), adapted from the John Steinbeck novel of the same name.
Crow illustrations: Shuttershock
FIRST EDITION
Epub Edition MAY 2021 Epub ISBN: 978-1-4434-6312-6
Version 04072021
Print ISBN: 978-1-4434-6310-2
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Title: Sufferance : a novel / Thomas King.
Names: King, Thomas, 1943- author.
Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20210124377 | Canadiana (ebook) 20210124407 ISBN 9781443463102 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781443463126 (ebook)
Classification: LCC PS8571.I5298 S84 2021 | DDC C813/.54—dc23
LSC/H 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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