Celilo's Shadow

by Wilcox, Valerie

  “I’m so sorry, man. I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, well. As soon as I was old enough, I burned Dry Hollow Motors to the ground.”

  “Damn, Walter! “You’re a bad ass after all.”

  “Don’t go all mushy on me now,” Walter said, shaking his head. “The fire was a failure.”

  “What’re you talking about? It was the biggest blaze they’ve ever had around here. The whole place was toast in a matter of minutes.”

  “But the good-for-nothing salesman who sold us that lemon made it out alive!”

  Danny had never seen such a fierce expression on Walter’s usually amiable face. It occurred to Danny then that he really didn’t know his friend as well as he’d thought. He wondered how many others he’d misjudged. If easygoing Walter was capable of such rage, what did it say about himself? After getting more beer from the bar, the two friends sat and drank silently for several minutes. The music had ended but neither man fed the jukebox again. The bar had gotten noisier; banter from the regulars who’d begun to straggle in and the click-clack of cue sticks from the billiard games in progress made conversation difficult even without the added blare from the jukebox. Danny raised his voice to be heard above the din. “I wasn’t there when my father was killed and mother never talks about it, but I pestered Oscar until he told me what happened.”

  Walter put a hand up. “It’s okay, Danny. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “No, I want to.” Danny figured he’d heard some of the story anyway. “Dad had just bought me a puppy for my sixth birthday. You know, old Tio. He’s awfully lame now, but he was a lively pup.” He skipped over the part about how he’d begged his parents for weeks to buy the little black Labrador he’d seen in the window of a pet store in town. It made him feel guilty to even think about it. His parents had balked at the notion of buying a dog when he could have had one for free. There was always a stray running around the village, but Danny held fast and his parents finally relented. “My new puppy jumped right out of Dad’s arms and ran under a truck parked in front of Dizzy’s. Dad got down on his knees and was trying to reach Tio when the guy who owned the truck stumbled out of the bar.”

  Walter said, “I heard about that. The drunk pulled a knife.”

  “He thought Dad was stealing his truck.” Danny swallowed to keep from choking up. He felt he owed it to Walter to tell the rest of the story, but the emotion that had surfaced was unexpected. Anger he was used to; it was even comforting in a strange sort of way. Anger gave him the edge he needed to keep going. The feeling he was experiencing now was different. Raw. Messy. Childish. Danny looked down at the table, willing himself not to tear up. The quiver in his voice betrayed him. “Oscar said Dad would’ve had a chance if the guy’s buddy hadn’t held him down. He was stabbed twenty-two times.”

  Walter winced. “Naturally both guys walked.”

  Danny wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “The sheriff launched a so-called investigation, but it was just a show. No one in town cared. What’s one more dead red man? Afterward, Mother trudged all the way into town and found Tio. She hasn’t gone back to The Dalles since.”

  Walter lowered his voice and spoke with steel-like conviction. “I promise you, Danny, Memaloose and Grave Islands will not give up our dead without a fight.”

  Danny reached across the table for Walter’s hand. “Damn straight, man. I’m all for that.” After they’d shook on their resolve, Danny said, “Too bad we can’t dig up the white man’s ancestors. Give them a taste of their own medicine.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Walter said. “I even know where their Pioneer Cemetery is located.”

  “I wasn’t serious. Digging up a bunch of graves would be more than we could handle.”

  “Right, but we could tip over a few of their tombstones and make a mess of the place.”

  Danny grinned. “I like the way you think.”

  “Of course, any damage we caused would just be symbolic.”

  “That’s what pisses me off. Everything we’ve done so far—the pranks, the petty thefts, the stupid tricks—they’re all symbols of our rage, not the real thing. You read that newspaper article. They called us a gang of hooligans. We’re warriors, man. We need to quit playing kid games and declare all-out war.”

  Walter studied Danny a moment. “If you really mean that, I know someone who’s willing to help us.”

  “Who?”

  “His name doesn’t matter. What’s important is that he’s got an even bigger beef against the government than we do. He thinks our cause is just but our protest hasn’t changed anything.”

  “He’s got that right,”

  “The dam is scheduled to be completed within a few months but if we join forces with his people, he claims we can delay and possibly even destroy the whole project.”

  “Sounds too good to be true,” Danny said. “You sure this isn’t some kind of trap? How do you know this guy?”

  “Not now,” Walter said. “Here comes Ernie.”

  Ernie jabbed his cue stick in the air like a spear as he approached their table. “You guys want to shoot some pool? I’m on fire today. Henry didn’t have a chance. Hell, I bet I could even beat you, Danny.”

  Danny waved him off. “Later. Walter and I have some business to discuss.”

  “No shit? You guys workin’ on a new battle plan?” At sixteen, Ernie was the youngest in their group. He’d been suspended from school so many times that he finally gave up altogether and attached himself to Danny like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He was the skinniest Indian Danny knew, but he was a tough scrapper and up for anything. Unfortunately, he had a big mouth. Any scheme had to be kept secret until the last minute or Ernie would blab to anyone and everyone about it. It still rankled Danny that their last escapade was foiled when Ernie shot off his mouth to the wrong people and almost got them arrested.

  Walter tossed a dollar on the table and flashed his familiar grin. “We’ll let you know what we’re going to do just as soon as we’ve decided something. In the meantime, beer for you and Henry is on me.”

  Ernie scooped up the bill. “Thanks, man.” He tipped the cue stick at Danny. “I’ll be waiting for you at table two.”

  Danny watched Ernie dance his way to the bar. “Okay,” he said when Ernie was out of earshot. “Tell me more about this guy you know and what we have to do.”

  Chapter Nine

  Tony whistled a lively tune as he waited on the porch for Ellie to answer the doorbell. Catching sight of Matthews as he left the house without Ellie in tow had made Tony’s day. He’d gone to Hillcrest that morning to list a house for a couple who was going to retire and move to Portland to be closer to their grandkids. After he’d secured a signed listing agreement, he decided to cruise by the Matthews’ house. Moving day was always hectic so he hadn’t planned to stop but when he turned the corner, he saw Sam hop in his truck and drive off. Tony couldn’t believe his good luck. He’d been carrying around the gift he’d bought for Ellie in his car until the timing was right to give it to her. What better time than when her father is safely out of the way?

  He parked at the curb and adjusted the Caddy’s rearview mirror to check his appearance. Thanks to a generous application of Brylcreem, his hairstyle was still in place. He donned his Stetson and then popped open the glove compartment to get the bottle of Old Spice that he kept on hand for emergencies. He slapped the fragrance on both cheeks and smiled with satisfaction at his reflection in the mirror. With Ellie’s gift tucked under his arm, he strode confidently to the Matthews’ front porch.

  Ellie didn’t answer the door until he’d rung the bell a second time. When she finally appeared, Tony was momentarily taken aback by how sexy she looked. The
skimpy all-white shorts and blouse she wore were designed to excite, and it worked. The bulge beginning to strain the fabric of his trousers was proof. She caught the way he eyed her up and down, and teased him with a seductive smile at the corner of her luscious red lips. Lord, have mercy. He tipped his Stetson and stuttered, “Afternoon, Ellie. I was beginning to think nobody was home.”

  “Dad, I mean Sam, isn’t here,” she said. “He had to take care of an errand downtown.”

  “Yeah? Too bad I missed him,” he said without a trace of sincerity. A pause and then a wide grin. “But I’m very glad you’re here.”

  “Really?” she said, blushing. “That makes two of us.”

  Score! Tony ogled every sensuous swing of her hips as she led him into the cluttered living room. “You suppose there might be a spot where a fellow could sit down?” he asked, looking around at the stacks of boxes that blocked the furniture from view.

  Mumbling an apology, Ellie cleared a packing box off the seat of a wingback chair. Tony sank into the surprisingly soft cushion and stretched out his legs on the matching ottoman. “Ah,” he sighed. Very comfy.”

  Ellie perched on the edge of a couch across the room.

  “Whatcha doing all the way over there, darlin’?” Tony shifted his feet to the floor and patted the top of the ottoman. “Sit right here,” he said. “I won’t bite.” As she sauntered across the room, he boldly ogled the skimpy blouse. Damn. This schoolgirl really knows how to strut her stuff.

  Ellie sat down in front of him and asked, “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? We have food. Plenty of food.”

  “Neighbors been calling, have they?”

  “Just the ladies.”

  “Figures,” he said. “Your Sam being a widow man and all.” Tony struggled to concentrate on their conversation instead of his growing desire. In desperation, he covered his erection with his Stetson and said, “It won’t be long until you get your share of callers, too.” He leaned forward in the chair. “But before you do, here’s a little welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift from me.” He offered her the package he’d carefully wrapped and topped with a pink bow. “Don’t panic,” he said, catching her startled expression. “It’s not food.” He thought he heard a high-pitched noise in the hall. It sounded curiously like a giggle but could’ve been a screech from some animal. “Do you have a cat?” he asked.

  “What? A cat?”

  “Never mind,” Tony said, savoring the sweet fragrance of White Shoulders and the way her fingers lingered on his hand as she took the gift from him. She wrapped her hands protectively around the package as if Tony might change his mind and snatch it away from her. He laughed and asked, “Well? Aren’t you going to open it?”

  Ellie quickly tore off the colorful wrapping but seemed puzzled by the pink and white striped box she uncovered. She undid the clasp on the lid and lifted the plastic handle to peer inside. She smiled slightly and mumbled a quick thank-you.

  Tony noted her confusion. “It’s for toting your 45s around,” he explained.

  “Oh, right,” she said. “Records.”

  “You do have a record player, don’t you?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “It’s broken.”

  Tony grinned and said, “I can certainly take care of that problem. No teenage girl should be without a way to play her tunes. How ‘bout I take you downtown to The Music Box? They have a real nice selection of players there. You can pick out whichever one you want. Get some new records while we’re at it. My treat.” When Ellie didn’t respond, he waved a hand in front of her face. “Hello? Earth to Ellie. Are you here?”

  She blinked once and giggled. “I’m here.”

  “Not for long,” Tony said, standing upright and donning his Stetson. Taking her hands in his, he pulled her to her feet.

  “Mr. Rossi, I—”

  “Who’s Mr. Rossi? I’m Tony.” He placed a hand on the middle of her back to gently guide her toward the front door.

  “But my dad wouldn’t like—”

  “Hush, now. It’s okay.” Women! They like to make you work for it.

  They were almost to the door when a frowning, red-haired girl popped out of nowhere. “Leaving without me?” she asked.

  “What the . . .”

  “Dessa!” exclaimed Ellie. ‘I’m so sorry. I forgot all about you.”

  Tony cringed. “Dessa? Dessa Feldman?”

  “The one and only,” she said, flashing a metal-mouth grin.

  Just his luck. The first time he gets Ellie all to himself the little gossip queen suddenly turns up. If her father didn’t hold Tony’s financial future in the balance, he’d tell her to get lost. And that would be just for starters. But Dessa and her smart mouth could ruin a lot more for him than an amorous interlude with Ellie. “Why, Dessa, of course you’re welcome to come with us.” He made a point of looking at his wristwatch. “Oh, rats,” he said. “I had no idea what time it was. I’m afraid we’ll have to take a rain check on The Music Box. I’m late for a very important meeting.”

  ***

  Tony was on his second beer at Dizzy’s when Clarice joined him at a corner table in the back of the tavern. “There you are,” she said, scooting a chair close to his and sitting down. “Mildred said she didn’t know where you were.”

  “Like hell she didn’t. I dropped off a new listing at the office and told her I was going to cool off with a brewski. Just where did she think I’d go? The country club?”

  “Never mind what she thought,” Clarice said. “I have some good news and some bad news.”

  “Am I going to need a fresh pitcher to hear this?”

  Clarice signaled the bartender. “Probably wouldn’t hurt.”

  As soon as the pitcher and another glass arrived, Clarice poured them both a round. “So, which do you want first? The good news or the bad?”

  “The good news, of course. I haven’t had enough to drink yet to handle bad news.”

  “This should lift your spirits. Warren played eighteen holes with Stan Feldman the other day and got the skinny on what was happening with Baker Bluff.”

  “And?”

  “Baker Bluff is just one of three properties Feldman owns that the government has expressed an interest in purchasing for the new Indian cemetery.”

  “You call that good news? Baker Bluff could still be snatched out from underneath us. For a damn Indian cemetery, of all things.”

  “That’s true, but the good news is that we still have a chance to buy the property from Feldman before the government makes its decision. It takes forever for big bureaucracies like the government to figure out the most cost-effective place to buy paper clips. Deciding on a big purchase like land takes even longer.”

  “Yeah, but there’s an urgent time factor at play here. The new cemetery needs to be purchased and the old bones moved from the river before the dam is finished, which, as I understand it, ain’t much longer now. The government doesn’t have time to be dilly-dallying around. The worst part is that even if we could buy the property, the government could take it away from us by exercising their right to eminent domain—at nowhere near the price we paid for it. Tony slurped down the last of his beer and poured a fresh glass. “So, if that’s what you consider good news, I don’t want to hear what the bad news is.”

  “Suit yourself,” Clarice said, shrugging. She pushed back her chair and stood.

  “Damn it,” Tony said, grasping her hand. “Just sit down and tell me.”

  “The government man charged with making the decision on which property to buy is someone named Sam Matthews. He’s told Feldman that he favors B
aker Bluff. He thinks it’s the best value considering the prime location.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding! Matthews is just a dumb ass foreman. What does he know about property values?”

  “Enough to impact our plans. Anyway, he’s close to making a deal according to what Feldman told Warren.”

  “You believe him?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether we do or not. Just the fact that Baker Bluff is in the mix means we need to act fast.”

  Tony folded his arms on the table and laid his head face down on top of them. “Jesus Christ Almighty,” he muttered.

  Won’t do you any good to call on Jesus,” chided Clarice. “It’s all up to us now. I told you that we could make Baker Bluff unacceptable to the Indians. When we get through, Matthews will have no choice but to select one of the other properties for their cemetery. So, get your butt in gear. We have work to do.”

  Chapter Ten

  As lead engineer, Phillip Beckstrom had his own office, but ever since he’d tussled with Sam over the dike removal, he’d been showing up at the foreman’s trailer more often, usually just minutes before the day shift whistle blew. His transparent excuse was always the same—he needed to discuss something important with Pete Chambers before the foreman left.

  “That’s a load of B.S.,” scoffed Chambers. “The boy could’ve just picked up the phone if he needed to talk to me so damn bad.”

  Despite Sam’s efforts to develop a good working relationship with the engineer, he’d made an enemy. If Beckstrom could catch him arriving late or violating some other work rule, it would give him further ammunition to issue the reprimand he’d already threatened. With the success of his mission in The Dalles at stake, Sam wasn’t taking any chances. He arrived on time—earlier, if possible—followed Beckstrom’s orders without complaint, and did his job to the best of his ability.

  He’d swallowed his pride before and he’d do it again, even if that meant taking on whatever thankless tasks Beckstrom handed out. The latest project was to locate a new cemetery site for the Indians. Because the removal and reburial of the ancient remains would most likely be opposed by the Indians at Celilo, Beckstrom wanted nothing to do with it. When he tapped Sam for the job, however, he made it sound like a great opportunity. “Handle this job right,” he said, “and you could salvage your reputation.” Sam’s bureau chief had a different take. “Coordinating with the Wy-am tribe to select a cemetery site is a positive development. You can use your interaction with the Indians to determine if there is any truth to the report that an outside group is supporting their efforts to sabotage the dam.”