Whisper to the Blood (4 page)

Kate's heart sank. "The board meeting?"

Auntie Vi gave her an impatient look. "What other meeting there
is?"

The board of directors of the Niniltna Native Association met quarterly, in
January, April, July, and October. Last year, board president and NNA CEO Billy
Mike had died, leaving a vacancy. Without even running, indeed over her strong
objections, Kate had been nominated to fill out the rest of his term, largely
at the instigation of the diminutive woman at present fixing her with the beady
eye through the car window.

Kate had missed her first NNA board meeting in July by virtue of the fact
that she had been deckhanding for Old Sam Dementieff during the salmon season.
Disapproval of her dereliction of duty was ameliorated by the fact that three
other board members, Demetri Totemoff, Harvey Meganack, and Old Sam himself,
were also fishing. Impossible to argue with the fact that everyone needed to
make a living, and that in Alaska much of the time that meant working through
the summer. So it was with a reasonable certainty that she would not be
scolded, at least not for that, that Kate felt she could say, "I'm not
Emaa, Auntie."

"Nobody say so," Auntie Vi said.

"Like hell," Kate said.

Auntie Vi looked away, scowling to hide what Kate knew was a beginning
smile. Kate was the only one who dared to lip off to Auntie Vi, and though
she'd never admit it, Auntie Vi enjoyed the fight.

"I'm not Emaa," Kate said again. "Don't make the mistake of
thinking I am. Running the Niniltna Native Association for the rest of my life
is not on my agenda. I've got a life, I have a job that pays pretty well, I
have Johnny to provide for, and I have a home to look after. Don't say
it!" She held up a hand, palm out.

Auntie Vi did her best to look wounded. "Not say nothing."

"Yeah, but you were thinking it." They both looked at the house, a
virtual palace by Park standards, built in three days and change by a volunteer
army of Park rats. "I'm grateful, I always will be, but not to the point
of indentured servitude."

"You not coming to meeting?" Auntie Vi said sharply.

Kate sighed. The next meeting was October 15th, a month away. "Of
course I'm coming. I said I would, and I don't make promises I'm not going to
keep."

"So you saying what, then?"

"I'm saying I'm not Emaa," Kate said, meeting Auntie Vi's eyes
without flinching. "I am not my grandmother. Don't think I'm going to lead
an effort against the Suulutaq Mine. I'm not against progress. I'm not against
change. I'm not against industry coming into the Park, especially if it's going
to bring jobs with it."

Auntie Vi was staring at her with a stony expression, and Kate smiled, a
little grimly. "Kinda sorry you forced me onto the board now, aren't you,
Auntie?"

Auntie Vi snorted, and thereby avoided a direct answer to a simple question,
a skill all the aunties were famous for. "You say mine bring jobs. Hah!
Jobs for Outsiders, maybe. No jobs for us."

"Auntie," Kate said. "The mine workers are going to need a
place to wash their clothes. They're going to want to buy potato chips. They're
going to want to mail packages. Sometimes they're just going to want a night
away from camp, out on the town, even if that town is dry. They can buy a
burger and a latte at the
Riverside
,
cookies at one of the basketball team's bake sales. They could even have a beer
at Bernie's if they can score a ride that far. Two thousand workers during
construction, Auntie. Niniltna will be the closest community to them."
Kate shrugged. "We've even got a road out. Well. For half the year
anyway."

Auntie Vi leveled an admonitory finger. "What about road, Katya? Not
good enough for big trucks. They pave it, then what?"

The thought of semi-tractor trailers running in and out of the Park a
quarter of a mile from her doorstep did not please Kate at all.
"Hah!" Auntie Vi said, triumphant. "Everything change with mine,
Katya. Everything! Not just digging big hole in some land away far from
here." She started the engine. "You be at that meeting."

"I said I would be, Auntie."

"October fifteenth!"

"Yes, Auntie."

"That on a Wednesday!"

"Yes, Auntie."

"Ten A.M.!"

"Yes, Auntie."

Auntie Vi nodded, a sharp, valedictory movement. "You be there."

"Yes, Auntie."

Auntie Vi held up a finger. "Forgot." She jerked a thumb backward.
"I bring something to you."

Kate opened the rear passenger-side door and found a small U-Haul box.
"What's this?"

"Association stuff. You take."

"I've got the newsletter, Auntie, I don't need—"

"You take!"

Kate took, and without further ado or admonition Auntie Vi stepped on the
gas. The Explorer wheeled around in something approaching a brody, narrowly
missing Mutt emerging incautiously from the brush. She yelped and affected a
kind of reverse vertical insertion, levitating up and back so that Auntie Vi's
tires just missed her toes. She looked at Kate, ears straight up and yellow
eyes wide.

"You got off lucky," Kate said. She turned to see Johnny had come
out on the railing of the deck.

"So," he said, "you going to that meeting next month?"

Her eyes narrowed.

He leaned on the railing and grinned. "You know. The one on
Wednesday?"

She dumped the box in the back of his truck and started for the house.

"On the fifteenth?" He started to back up. "You know, the one
at ten a.m.?"

She hit the bottom stair and he ran for his life.

THREE

J
ohnny sat very straight behind the
wheel of his pickup as he made his first solo journey into Niniltna the next
morning. He drove with sobriety and caution, and pulled into Annie Mike's driveway
with nary a nourish.

This sedate impression of middle age disintegrated when the front door
opened and Van stepped out onto the porch.

Vanessa Cox's posture was so good that she would always seem taller than she
was. Her dark hair was thick, fine, and straight, cut bluntly to brush her
shoulders, with a spiky fringe to frame her dark eyes. She had a slim, straight
nose, a full, firm mouth, and a delicately pointed chin.

For years her attire had consisted of bibbed denim overalls with a marsupial
front pocket and buckled shoulder straps, worn over a T-shirt in summer and a
turtleneck in winter, usually accessorized with Xtra Tuffs and a down jacket.
Recently, her wardrobe had expanded to include low-rider jeans, cropped
T-shirts, and Uggs. She wore thin gold hoops in her ears and her lips shone
with gloss.

Johnny didn't notice any of this in detail, of course. All he knew was that
his best buddy Van had suddenly and inexplicably turned into a girl. "You
look good," he said.

Her answering smile revealed a surprising set of dimples, a crooked left
incisor, and a sparkle in her eyes that was as unsettling as it was
exhilarating. "Thank you," she said demurely.

"Want a ride?"

She hopped in without answering. He may have put little more English on his
departure than he had on his arrival, and who can blame him?

It was a beautiful day, barely a wisp of cloud to obstruct the view of the
Quilak
Mountains
scratching a harsh line into the eastern sky. The Kanuyaq was as yet ice-free,
and running low after a dry spring and a warm summer had pushed all the
snowmelt down to the Gulf. The days were crisp, the nights cool but not yet
cold.
Canada
geese practiced their V formations overhead, browsing moose cows were waiting
for the siren call of moose bulls in rut, and two yearling grizzly cubs shot
across the road inches in front of the blue pickup's bumper. Johnny took his
foot off the gas but retained enough wit not to stamp on the brakes, and the
cubs' hindquarters disappeared into the brush on the other side of the road. A
second later and he would have clipped their hindquarters.

Johnny pulled to a halt at the corner, where Annie's driveway met the road
to the
Niniltna
School
, and paused. He looked at Van and
suddenly driving up to school in his very own vehicle in front of all the kids
seemed less appealing. On impulse, he turned left.

"This isn't the way to school," Van said. She had her window down
and the cab was filled with the sound of dry leaves and fallen spruce needles
crinkling beneath the truck's tires.

"I was thinking we could skip."

"Skip school?" she said.

"Just once," he said. He patted the steering wheel and gave her a
sidelong grin. "We don't have to make a habit out of it, but today's kind
of a special day."

She considered. "Where do you want to go?"

There weren't a lot of places to hang out in the Park, and that was a fact.
"We could go watch the bears at the dump," he said.

She smiled. "Been there, done that."

"It's a nice day. We could hike up to the Lost Wife Mine."

She shook her head. "I don't feel like sweating."

"Riverside Cafe and the espresso drink of your choice?"

She raised one shoulder and let it fall. She turned her head and opened her
eyes. One eyebrow might have raised, ever so slightly.

"Want to go to Ahtna?" he said.

Technically, he had his driver's license. He had his own truck in his own
name, bought and paid for with his own money, earned in a dozen odd jobs. He
had deckhanded with Kate for Old Sam Dementieff the previous summer. He'd
hauled, cut, and stacked wood for Auntie Balasha, Auntie Joy, Auntie Vi, and
Annie Mike. He'd swabbed floors at the Roadhouse and canned salmon for Demetri
Totemoff. He'd even helped Matt Grosdidier smoke silver salmon the month
before, although for that job he'd gotten paid in fish, not that he was complaining.
Neither was Kate. He'd even filed paperwork for Ranger Dan and Chopper Jim.

And it wasn't like Kate had told him he couldn't go to Ahtna if he wanted
to. Of course, he hadn't asked her. Mostly because he had had a pretty good
idea of what her answer would be, especially if he was cutting school the
second week of the year, and using his brand-new truck to do it. And then of
course there was the little matter of his license being provisional until he
was eighteen. He could drive himself but he wasn't supposed to drive anyone
else underage. But who bothered with that in the Bush?

He had a niggling feeling that Kate and Jim both might have an answer for
that. What they would like even less was their destination. Ahtna was a big
town, over three thousand in the town proper. Every student in Park schools had
been weaned on stories about the kids at Peratrovich High.

Ahtna was the biggest town closest to the Park, bigger even than Cordova,
and you had to fly or take a boat to Cordova. Ahtna had a movie theater, a
courthouse, a DMV, a Safeway, and a Costco, making it the market town for the
Park. It had bars, and two liquor stores. The Park had Bernie's Roadhouse,
where owner, proprietor, and bartender Bernie Koslowski by virtue of also being
the Niniltna basketball coach knew the birthday of every kid in the Park. There
was no buying a drink at the Roadhouse if you were underage.

Ahtna was a different story. It was easy, so they said, to get lost in the
crowd in Ahtna. It was easy to pass for legal. All you needed was a fake ID,
and sometimes you didn't even need that. The very mention of Ahtna's name
brought an intoxicating whiff of sin to any Niniltnan in his or her teens, and
a corresponding shiver of fear to their parents.

But "Sure," Van said, before he could think better of his
invitation, and smiled at him again. They went to Ahtna forthwith.

It wasn't an easy drive, a battered gravel road that had begun life as a
remnant of the railroad roadbed for the Kanuyaq River & Northern Railroad,
built to haul copper ore from the Kanuyaq copper mine to the seaport in
Cordova, there to be loaded onto bulk carriers and shipped to foundries
Outside. The copper ran out after thirty years and the mining company left,
pulling up the railroad tracks behind it. Unfortunately, they weren't quite as
conscientious about the railroad spikes that had held the tracks together.

The road had not improved in the interim. Maintained by a state grader twice
a year, once in the spring after breakup and once in the fall before the first
snow, it was ridged and potholed, with shoulders crumbling to narrow a road
that was barely wide enough for one car to begin with. Overgrown in some places
with alder and stands of rusty brown spruce killed from the spruce bark beetle,
and with cottonwoods where it crossed creeks, the road of necessity to its
original purpose followed the most level possible ground, which meant it
followed the twisting, winding course of one river and creek after another,
which did not make for good visibility. Head-on collisions were frequent
occurrences, as were sideswipes and rollovers, as the only places to pull over
were the trailheads into cabins, homesteads, mining claims, and fish camps.

Johnny negotiated all these hazards more or less successfully, and even
managed to cross the bridge at Lost Chance Creek without incident. It was a
relief when they hit pavement just outside of Ahtna. When he'd driven that road
the last time, he'd had Kate with him. Kate was the grown-up, his legal
guardian, and as such responsible for him. This time, he was with Vanessa. It
was his truck, and it had been his idea to go to Ahtna. Plus, she had that
whole girl thing going on.

Not that he ever thought of women as the weaker sex, in need of protection
from the big strong he-man. Not with Kate Shugak an in-his-face example every
day, he didn't. It was just. . . well, he wasn't sure what just it was. All he
knew was that this trip was his responsibility and he didn't want it ending in
a ditch somewhere between Ahtna and Niniltna.