Secret Shepherd

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Secret Shepherd Page 29

by James Osborne


  “My wife insisted I buy them,” Dan said as he handed Paul a package of condoms. “Family planning. We have all the children now that we can look after.”

  Both men chuckled. They hoped the elasticity of the condoms would hold the bubblegum in place over the severed fuel line.

  Paul turned the key. On the fourth try, the motor finally roared to life.

  ***

  Namusat

  “A plane picked him up last night,” Chief John Boisvert said. “I heard that he came in on a snowmobile and went straight to the airstrip... didn’t speak to anyone. The plane landed, picked him up, and promptly left. Must have been prearranged. We wondered what had happened to you guys. We thought maybe the three of you had decided to stay over, but weren’t sure.”

  “Just one of them?” Paul asked.

  “Yeah,” John said. “His snowmobile is still parked at the air strip.”

  On their arrival, Paul had explained how Redmond and Stewart left them stranded in the snowstorm the night before, and how they had escaped a frigid death thanks to Dan’s expertise.

  “Tony Stewart hasn’t been sober in all the years I’ve known him,” John said. “We suspected he might be up to no good when you didn’t return last night. I wonder if Redmond left him somewhere out there, too.

  “Good thing the supply plane came this morning and agreed to take a look for you, just in case. I had a feeling something was wrong.”

  Paul and Dan had been twelve miles northwest of Namusat when the cargo plane circled over them. The pilot had dropped a note wrapped around a wrench and secured with a rubber band, telling them to follow the plane to the small First Nations village.

  “Do you know what this is all about?” the chief asked.

  Over coffee in the chief’s home, Paul explained Ahmed’s brutal murder and the numerous attempts on his and his family’s lives financed by the Turkish smuggling syndicate and the London gang.

  “Well I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch!” John said. “I’ll send a search party out to look for Tony. From what you told me, I doubt we’ll find him alive.”

  “I’ve no doubt Redmond was trying to collect the bounty on me,” Paul said. “How the hell could they have known I was here? For a while, we suspected a middle-aged woman in London was leaking our travel plans, but we were wrong about her.”

  “Is there anything can we do?” the chief asked.

  “Thank you, but you’ve got enough on your plate,” Paul said. “I came here to see if I could do anything to support the important work you are doing here and that’s what I’m going to do. To hell with them! I doubt they’ll be back, so let’s get on with it.”

  ***

  “How are you and the kids making out in Ottawa?” Paul asked after briefing Anne on the phone about his latest narrow escape. He listened patiently to Anne scold him lovingly over his reluctance to take bodyguards with him. He reminded her in return how she’d sometimes tried to evade her own bodyguards.

  “My love, I’m afraid my exploits here are going to extend your visit to Ottawa a bit longer than we planned.”

  “Good!” Anne said, surprising him. “This is a marvelous city. We’ve been to the Parliament Buildings and visited three fabulous museums, and we’re going on a guided tour of the city tomorrow. Afterward, we’re going skating on a frozen canal in the city. It’s called the Rideau Canal and the city claims it’s the longest skating rink in the world.”

  “But you and the kids don’t skate,” Paul said.

  “We’re going to learn!” she replied.

  Paul chuckled. “I knew you’d keep busy. I guess we’re all okay. I’ll be here for a few more days, before I can join you and the kids.”

  “All right, my love,” Anne said with a deep sigh of longing.

  “The elders here have some wonderful ideas,” Paul said. “I want to explore them further with them. Their ideas sound plausible, but wisely, they have counseled patience... to take just a few baby steps at a time, for now. The elders understand far better than me that first their people have to regain confidence in themselves before things will get better... they need to start believing in themselves again. That’s the key.”

  “How can that happen, my love?” Anne asked.

  “For starters, the people here must call the shots,” Paul said. “Here’s an example… The elders are adamant that whatever happens must be based upon ancestral skills, both technical and social, and on types of work that build upon those aptitudes. Hey, for twenty thousand years or more they have turned resources provided by nature into food, clothing, shelter, medicines, the means for commerce like trade items with other First Nations people, and to meet many other needs. This is their great strength.

  “The elders have encouraged Chief Boisvert and the council here to put their historic skills to work on two projects that the band elders and council have been talking about for years... have dreamed about. First, a fly-in lodge for hunting and fishing. Second, they want to run courses on how to hunt and fish successfully, as well as offer winter sports like cross country skiing and snow shoeing, and wilderness survival skills. The courses and winter sports would be used to generate revenues for the lodge during the slack periods between hunting and fishing seasons. They plan to market all of this to clients from Canada and other countries. I’ve agreed to help.

  “Chief Boisvert asked where the money would come from to do all of this. I told him I know of an investor who’s interested in outdoor activities like these. With their permission, I’d make an approach on their behalf. The council agreed. I told them if the investor were interested, a representative would be in touch. Malcolm is that representative, of course, and Dan’s going to be their contact with him.”

  “I assume you’ve given Malcolm a head’s up,” Anne said.

  “Oh yes,” he replied. “I’ve not told Dan about Secret Shepherd and I won’t, of course. As you know he’s very clever... if he guesses, he’ll keep it to himself. Do you mind, Anne, calling Malcolm and asking him to set up an account at a Canadian bank with an initial five million dollars Canadian for Dan to draw on? They’ll need a lot more if all goes according to their vision.”

  “Of course,” Anne said. “I’ll go see a bank manager here in Ottawa this afternoon and then call Malcolm. I’ll have him call Dan.”

  “Yes, please,” Paul replied. “Having Dan work with Chief Boisvert will maintain distance between Secret Shepherd and us, and it will give Dan the credit he deserves. This is just a tiny beginning. Even if these projects work out it could take years for these fine people to regain the self-esteem they had before our ancestors invaded their lands. But maybe, just maybe, we can play a small part in helping a few rediscover that most precious gift of all… hope.”

  “You know,” Anne said. “I once heard ‘hope’ being described as oxygen for the human spirit. Isn’t that a wonderful thought? Perhaps what happens there will provide truth to that saying.”

  “I like that,” he said.

  “Is there something else, love?” Anne asked.

  “Perceptive as usual, aren’t you?” Paul said, chuckling. “Dan told Chief Boisvert that clients who sign up for the camps, the sports, and for the outdoors training, will expect a community that looks inviting. Frankly, Anne, Namusat is a dump. I shudder to think what this place will look like after the snow melts this spring.

  “Please ask Malcolm to tell Dan that the investor will hire and train men and women in Namusat for the construction on one condition—that they fix up their homes and clean up the community. That and the lodge are going to require water and sewer systems. Secret Shepherd will pay for all of the professional services, materials and equipment as long as they provide the labor, also paid for by the foundation, of course.

  “Would you believe it, Dan has already lined up a First Nation architect to design the lodge and found some journeymen to teach construction, plumbing and electrical skills? How’s that for getting a start on things?” Paul asked.

  “It seems
to me, Paul.” Anne said. “This has the sound of three projects, wouldn’t you say? The lodge and its programs, the utility system, and the village renovations?”

  “I suppose you’re right, love,” Paul laughed.

  “Do I sense there’s something more?” she asked.

  Paul laughed again.

  “Well yes,” he said. “The national elders have done something quite remarkable. And this may become the best part! They’ve taken the initiative on this terrible suicide emergency. The elders have chosen a team from among the national and local elders to travel across the country. Their job will be to persuade elders in all First Nation communities to set an example by listening to their children and youth, individually and in groups. They’ve already made plans to talk directly with teenagers in some of the communities. They told me they’ve heard from some young people that they want youth advisory groups empowered to advise elected councils, as well as elders. And the elders have agreed. Now isn’t that something?”

  Paul heard a smile in Anne’s voice when she said. “Should we make that four programs, my love?”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Paul said. “Hey, I couldn’t resist.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Hale Springs Inn

  Rogersville, TN

  “It’s an honor to meet y’all Mrs. Winston.”

  His nameplate said, Floyd Nicholson, Manager.

  “I’m pleased to meet you too, Mr. Nicholson.”

  Nicholson turned to Paul.

  “And we’re delighted to have y’all back with us, er, Mr. Winston.”

  He motioned them to one side of the front desk. In a low voice, he whispered, “We are deeply honored to have an Earl and a Countess as our guests. We had no idea during your earlier stays, My Lord. Please accept my sincere apologies. I want y’all to know that the services and staff of the Hale Springs Inn are at your service, day and night.”

  “Mr. Nicholson,” Paul said, his voice also lowered, “We would be most grateful if you and your staff would refrain from using those titles during our stay at your fine establishment. It would be best if no one else knew about them. It’s a security thing. I’m very serious!”

  “Oh,” Nicholson said. The creases around his middle-aged eyes framed his disappointment. “Oh, I see. Of course! As you wish.”

  “May I ask how you learned about those titles?” Paul asked.

  “A former server in the restaurant, sir,” Nicholson replied. “Pamela Milliken. Do y’all know of her by any chance? She seemed to be aware of y’all.”

  “Former?” Paul asked.

  “She left us, I reckon a little over a month, now,” Nicholson said. “She was a good worker, but her flirtatious manner did cause a bit of stress among some of our guests and employees.”

  “Is she still in town?” Paul asked.

  “I’m not certain about that,” Nicholson replied. “I’ve not seen her since she left. Are y’all planning to be with us for a while?”

  “A week or two, I would expect,” Paul replied.

  Paul, Anne, and the children took the stairs to the second floor and to the two-room Andrew Jackson Suite.

  “Do you mind if I go do some exploring?” Doug asked after a quick look around the elegant suite. He glanced at his parents.

  “Sure,” Paul said.

  “Are you certain it’ll be okay?” Anne said. Her soft English accent harmonized beautifully with the southern accents they’d heard in the lobby and in the adjoining McKinney’s Restaurant.

  Paul nodded at her.

  “It’s a small town, love. He won’t get lost.”

  “I don’t mean that,” she said.

  “Doug’s aware of the need to be vigilant, aren’t you son?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Don’t be too long, okay?” Paul said. “When you get back, I’d like you to tell us all about what you saw. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Doug said.

  “And Doug?”

  “Yes, Dad?”

  “You know that your British accent is going to stick out like a bright flag around here,” Paul said.

  “So?” Doug said. His tone was cocky.

  “Be polite,” Anne corrected him.

  “I’m just forewarning you,” Paul said. “People will hear your accent and know you’re a stranger.”

  “Yeah, guess you’re right, Dad,” Doug said. “Sorry. See ya later.”

  After Doug left, Anne turned to Paul and said, “I’m worried about Doug going out on his own in a strange town. Those awful bounties could make him a target for being taken hostage, or worse.”

  “Yes, I know, my love,” Paul replied. “But as he gets older we need to give him latitude to do more things on his own. Besides, you can be sure the bodyguards won’t let him get too far out of their sight.”

  ***

  “Y’all’re new here!”

  A kid on a bike rode in circles around Doug as he walked down an almost deserted street a few blocks from The Inn.

  “Yeah,” Doug said. “We’re just visiting.”

  “Y’all talk funny,” the kid said.

  Doug guessed they were about the same age.

  “So do you,” Doug replied, smiling.

  The two boys stopped and looked at each other. After a couple of moments they were both laughing.

  “I’m Billy,” the kid said. “Where y’all from?”

  “My name’s Doug. I’m from Maidstone.”

  “Where’s that?” Billy asked.

  “England,” Doug replied.

  “That’s gotta be a long way from here, right?” Billy asked.

  “Yeah,” Doug said. “Took almost a day to get to America from there... most of it on a plane.”

  “Wow!” Billy said. “I ain’t never been on no plane before.”

  “They’re pretty cool,” Doug replied.

  “Wanna come to my house?” Billy said.

  “Sure,” Doug said. “Where d’ya live?”

  “Over there.” Billie pointed toward the edge of town. It wasn’t far.

  Doug was fascinated by a town that was completely surrounded by country that he could see all around... country that didn’t have many buildings... mostly trees and farm fields. He was used to England, where one town often blended into another. Most roadways were lined in all directions with houses, businesses, or other types of buildings.

  Doug walked alongside Billy, peddling his bike slowly and weaving back and forth to keep it upright.

  “Here it is,” Billy said, dropping his bike in the middle of the gravel driveway mottled with potholes.

  A run-down home was tucked at the end of a street. A barbed wire fence sagged across the road just past the house where the cracked asphalt street ended in dirt. Beyond lay what looked like a hayfield. At the far end of the driveway, a derelict pickup had taken up residence, its open engine hood waiting patiently to gnaw at the sky.

  “Cum’on in,” Billy said. “My daddy’s at work. Might be some cookies left. His girlfriend may be here. Dunno. She comes and goes. Hey, wanna play ball after?”

  “You mean football?” Doug replied.

  “Naw, baseball, man. Don’t they play baseball where you come from? What about basketball?”

  “Mostly we play football... I think you call it soccer,” Doug replied. “And a lot a folks play cricket and rugby.”

  “What’s cricket and rugby?”

  “It’s complicated. Wanna show me how to play baseball?”

  “Sure. Here’s a mitt.”

  “What’s that for?”

  “Your hand! Are you right handed or left handed?”

  “Left handed.”

  “Shit! You’ll have to use it backwards.”

  “Watch your mouth!” a female voice called through a screened window. “Y’all mind now, or I’ll tell your diddy when he gits home!”

  “Diddy’s girlfriend,” Billy stage-whispered. “She sure can swear up a storm, but she won’t let me do it.”

 
“Ah heard that,” the woman’s voice said. “Who’re y’all talkin’ to anyway?”

  “A friend,” Billy said.

  “Well bring him in. Hey, we got cookies. Ah just made some.”

  “Her cookies are awesome,” Billy whispered. “Ah kin eat a bunch every time she makes them. She lets me!”

  Billy led Doug over to the front of the house, up the rotting unpainted wooden steps, through a ripped screen door, and into the disarray of a cluttered and timeworn living room.

  “What’s your name?” the woman said.

  “Doug,” he replied. “Doug Winston.”

  “Oh really,” the woman said. She noticed his accent. “Is your family here?”

  “Yes,” Doug said. “My mom and dad, and little sister are all here.”

  “I’m very pleased to meet you Doug,” the woman said tousling his brown hair. “Ah have a girl almost your age. She’s visiting her grandparents right now. My name’s Pamela... Pamela Milliken.”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  The Mousavi Centre

  Highway 11 West

  “Isaac, I’d like you to meet my wife, Anne, and our children, Doug and Catherine.”

  “Welcome to Rogersville, Mrs. Winston,” Isaac said.

  “Anne, please,” she replied.

  “Anne it is.” Isaac extended his hand to Doug, who was flattered to be treated like an almost grown up.

  Isaac knelt on one knee and smiled at Catherine. She clung tightly to her mother’s left leg but grinned back.

  “We’re shy,” Isaac said. “Y’all sure are pretty!”

  Catherine half-buried her face in Anne’s pant leg, smiling broadly now.

  Isaac stood and waved his hand, gesturing toward the unfinished six-story building under construction behind him. “Well, what do you think, Paul?”

  “Impressive!” Paul relied. “I’m delighted! Never thought you’d be this far along.”

  “We’ve three shifts working now,” Isaac said. “All local workers—men and women—all trained. We promised the county we’d meet their deadline. It’s gonna be tight, even with a third shift.”

 

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