"The people who have been hunting and fishing these lands for the last
ten thousand years ought to be the ones who have preference, especially
in times of shortage," Anne said in reply. "It is unconscionable for the
state government to say to the upriver Athabascans and the down river
Yupik, "You cannot fish the Yukon River this year because we must meet
quotas for the commercial fishermen."
Jeff Hosford walked by Kate's chair, talking into the cell phone that
seemed to be permanently attached to his right ear. He looked up and saw
Kate watching him. His smile was slow and insolent, and he stripped her
with his eyes. It was obvious from his expression that she was now
expected to leap into his arms and wrestle him to the floor. When she
let her gaze drift past him as if he weren't even there, he couldn't
stand it and walked over. "Ms.... Shugak, isn't it?"
"Mr. Hosford."
"You're our campaign security?" The amused disbelief in his voice was
provocative.
"I am."
"A cute little thing like you?"
"Yup."
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"I've heard about you, you know. Everybody has. I don't figure half of
it's true."
"Could you step to one side, please? I need a clear view of the stage."
He lurked around her peripheral vision for a few more moments, and then
moved on. Jerk.
"Well, now, Anne, in times of shortages, I'd have to agree with you,"
Peter said, and gave the issue an adroit twist. "But what about the
Natives living in Anchorage? There's about thirty thousand of them, at
the last census, and more moving in every day. They call Anchorage
Alaska's largest Native village. Are you saying that because they have
chosen to live in an urban environment that they have lost all rights to
fish and hunt where their parents and grandparents did?"
Peter was trying to get Anne to say that she preferred Native
preference, period, for hunting and fishing priorities, which was almost
certainly true but which would lose her a lot of non-Native votes in the
district and probably the election, but Anne was too smart for that.
"I am saying, Peter, that the people who live off the land should be
allowed to do just that in times of shortage, and that the people who
have a cultural history of subsistence hunting and fishing should also
be allowed to continue to do so."
Thus neatly including all non-Native Bush rats in her stand on rural
subsistence, too. Anne smiled primly straight] into the camera recording
the event for later broadcast over the statewide television channel,
ARCS, and that was when} Kate realized that Anne Gordaoff had plans to
run for governor. Kate looked at Pete and wondered if he knew. Probably.
He might even vote for her.
Doug Gordaoff passed her, his eyes fixed on the swinging behind of a
young woman in very tight jeans, who tossed flirtatious glances over her
shoulder as if she were leaving a trail of bread crumbs.
83
The next question was about sovereignty. Again, Anne came down on the
side of self-government for Native villages. "Why not?" she said,
softening her voice in an immediate response to Peter's lower key that
Kate could only admire. "What have we got to lose? The whole theme for
the Nineties was taking responsibility for our actions,? we were all
supposed to shoulder our own weight, stop leaning on the federal
government to take care of us. Well then, let us try, let the villages
assume some of the duties and responsibilities of self-governance."
"For example?" the moderator said.
"Law enforcement," Anne said immediately. "There is no such thing as law
enforcement in too many Native villages, who never see a state trooper
from one year to the next unless there is murder done."
Kate thought of Jim, and of how he spent as much time in the air going
from crime to crime as he did on the ground investigating them, and
thought Anne had a good point.
But this was too much for Pete. "There are only two hundred and
seventy-three troopers in the state of Alaska. They can't be everywhere
at once."
"Yes, and why is that, Peter? Could it be that the state has failed to
adequately fund the Department of Public Safety, so that there aren't
enough troopers to respond to any but the most serious crimes in the
smaller communities?"
Darlene was sitting in the front row of the folding chairs directly in
Anne's line of sight. She raised her hand in a signal that Kate couldn't
quite make out, but it made Anne, who had been gradually leaning
forward, straighten in her chair and take a deep breath.
Peter, who had come without handlers, yanked on his own invisible leash
and dropped his voice, once again the voice of sweet reason. There was
no arguing Anne's point, so he didn't try. "Anne, this issue was
supposed to have been resolved with the passage in 1971 of the Alaska Native
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live Claims Settlement Act. For forty-four million acres and a billion
dollars, the Native tribes of Alaska would cede aboriginal lands for the
TransAlaska Pipeline right-of-way and form corporations to see to the
needs of their peoples."
"Yes, and all ANCSA required in return was that Alaska Natives become
white," Anne flashed back. "We live in the Bush, not in boardrooms."
"What's next, Anne?" Pete said coolly. "What comes after Natives gain
sovereignty? You going to follow the ways of Outside Indian country? You
going to open a casino in Niniltna?"
A statement guaranteed to win all the votes there were from the
religious right wing of Pete's party.
It was at this point that Kate realized that Peter Heiman might have
gubernatorial ambitions of his own. She didn't think Anne would vote for
him, though.
Peter had won this round on points, but Anne had him on passion. Darlene
tiptoed over to Tracy, standing next to the television camera and
flirting with the cameraman, and whispered something to her. Tracy
nodded and hurried out of the building. The cameraman yearned after her
with a mournful expression on his face. Darlene pulled out her cell
phone and speed-dialed a number.
The next question concerned each candidate's reaction to the recent
initiative passed by an overwhelming majority of Alaskan voters to make
English the official language of the state of Alaska.
"A slap in the face to every Native in the state," was Anne's comment.
"Unnecessary," Peter allowed, and grinned. He had an attractive grin and
he used it well. "I hear Tuntutuliak has passed an ordinance
establishing Yupik as the official village language. I hope every time a
federal bureaucrat has to fly in there to do business that he has to
hire a Yupik interpreter, and I hope those Tuntutuliakers know enough to
charge the red-shift limit for the service."
85
Even Anne laughed. Kate looked for Darlene to see how she took this, and
couldn't find her in the crowd. Erin Gordaoff, looking lost without Jeff
Hosford at her elbow, scurried past. Kate watched her go into the
&nb
sp; ladies' room.
The moderator gave each candidate two minutes to sum up. Anne touched on
her background in the health care profession, of her service to the
community on various governmental committees, of her stint as a member
of the University of Alaska's Board of Regents. She invoked family
icons, the how-many-times great-grandmother as a direct descendent of
Baranov, of the grandfather who was a delegate to the Constitutional
Convention in 1955, of the aunt who worked on ANCSA. She thanked her
campaign manager and cousin, Darlene Shelikof, and the rest of her
supporters for getting her this far.
She was articulate, humble, and smart enough not to attack Peter.
Mudslinging didn't work in Bush elections, where Native villagers in
particular were unfailingly polite to candidates of either party whether
they voted for them or not, and expected their children to be, too.
She was also a younger woman to Peter's older man, and Pete didn't
hesitate to point that out, referring to his many long years in Alaska,
summoning up family apparitions of his own going back three generations
of Alaskan history, his record as a successful businessman and employer
of over a thousand Alaskans, his two terms in Juneau.
The audience applauded, the stage lights overhead dimmed, and everybody
shook everybody else's hand. Comments from the crowd held the honors of
the evening to be about even. More than one person was laughing over
Pete's Yupik interpreter, and Kate heard someone say, "Think Dan
O'Brian'd like having to do business for the Parks Service in Athabascan?"
"So?" Billy Mike said.
86
"I admit," Kate said, "I'm impressed."
His round moon face was split by a wide, and what could have been
relieved, grin. "Good. Great."
"I don't have to like her to keep her safe," Kate said. "I don't even
have to vote for her." He laughed, scoffing at the possibility. "Tell
me, Billy, this advance I've got in my pocket. It's drawn on the
Niniltna Native Association bank account. I'm wondering how the other
three hundred and forty-six shareholders would feel about this use of
the tribal chief's discretionary portion of the general fund."
"The board okayed it at Monday night's meeting." He looked back at the
crowd and said, "So? Do you see anyone suspicious?"
"Well," Kate said, watching the crowd gather around the tables
dispensing cookies and Kool-Aid, "other than the joint I saw Michael
Moonin sucking on, Rudy Brooks selling six hits of what I figure was
cocaine, too many people drinking too much Windsor Canadian out of paper
bags, and the narrowly averted infliction of what would have been
statutory rape by Nathan Kvasnikoff upon the person of Carole
Pyle-although I must say Carole looked more than willing until her dad,
Ray, showed up-" She looked at Billy, whose laughter had faded into
round-eyed dismay. "No."
Billy looked from one side of the crowd to the other. "What? You saw all
that? Here in the gym? What-why-"
"Billy," Kate said, and he turned back to her. He looked so hurt that
she was moved by an unaccustomed stirring of sympathy. "There are over
eight hundred people here tonight, maybe more. You get this many people
together in one place, you're bound to have some of that stuff going on."
"Why didn't you stop it?"
"None of it was anywhere near Anne," Kate said. "That's what you hired
me for, remember? To protect Anne Gordaoff."
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"I know, but-"
"Billy."
He lapsed into unhappy silence.
Tracy appeared, the ghost of a grin on her face. "So. Bathed in the
presence of the candidate, have you now become a true believer, ready to
walk in the paths of righteousness?"
"Ask me tomorrow morning."
"Why tomorrow morning?"
?Tomorrow morning, the check clears the bank," Kate said.
Billy winced, and Tracy laughed. There was a scrabble of canine feet,
and Kate looked down to see Mutt on tiptoe, ears straight up, nose
pointing at the door. "Mutt?" She hopped down from the chair. Mutt
streaked away through the crowd. Kate looked around for Anne and found
her still on the stage. "Go to Anne, Billy."
"What?"
"Go to Anne, now. Stay with her, I don't care where she goes or what she
does, until I get back. Got it?" He said nothing and she raised her
voice. "Got it?"
He looked shaken, but he said, "Got it," and stuck his chubby little
chin out like he meant it. He began pushing his way through the crowd to
Anne, and Kate took off after Mutt.
She found her finally, in the parking lot, whining at the blue van Doug
and Darlene had driven from the lodge to the gymnasium.
Inside was the tall blond man who was the candidate's daughter's fiance.
And if the gunshot wound in his chest was any indication, he was riding
shotgun for the last time.
88
NOME JULY 1900
The little girl had long dark curls done up with pale pink ribbons that
matched the trim on her dress. She stood in the doorway of the Aurora
Saloon and gazed inside.
A tall man wearing a big gray hat and a black suit came to the door. "I
have to say you're the youngest customer I've ever had in this saloon,
little girl. What can I get for you? Maybe some lemonade?"
He had a nice smile and she liked his voice, which was deep and soft.
She pointed. "That lady doesn't have any clothes on."
He looked over his shoulder at the painting of the reclining nude
hanging in back of the bar. "She sure doesn't. Why don't you have a seat
on the porch, and I'll bring you a glass of lemonade. Real lemons, fresh
off the boat, and you can tell me where to find your mother. Here-"
There was a rustle of silk, and a woman with dark red hair and tired
eyes rushed forward to scoop the little girl into her arms. She glared
at the man. "Leave her alone!"
The big man looked surprised. "Is she yours, Angel? I thought- "
?No, she's not," the woman said, and the little girl squirmed when the
woman's arms tightened around her. "But she has no business in here, and
you have no business with her, so just leave her alone."
The man's face darkened, and the little girl was suddenly afraid. "I
wasn't doing anything except getting her a drink. I didn't- "
89
"A drink!"
"Not a drink drink, goddamn it, just some lemonade to keep her settled
while we looked for-"
"Victoria!"
Everyone's head turned to watch the woman wade through the mud from the
other side of the street. "Victoria Mae Wilson, I told you not to
stray!" She saw who was holding her daughter and flushed. "How dare you!
Give me my daughter!" She snatched the little girl from the red- haired
woman's arms and glared impartially from the woman to the man. He looked
resigned. The woman's expression was harder to define. She looked weary
and apologetic and, for a moment perhaps, even on the verge of tears.
The little girl watched them both over her mother's shoulder as she was
borne off down the street, he
r mother trailing righteous indignation
like the wake of a large ship.
There was a silence between the two people on the steps of the saloon.
People, mostly men, pushed past, some pausing to touch their hat brims
Stabenow, Dana - Shugak 11 - The Singing Of The Dead Page 11