Stabenow, Dana - Shugak 11 - The Singing Of The Dead

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by The Singing Of The Dead(lit)


  "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."

  82

  "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

  84

  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."

  87

  "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

 

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