The Case of Windy Lake Page 7

  Atim grabbed the menu. “I could get a burger and you guys could share the fries.” He smiled. Otter gave him an elbow to the upper arm.

  “’Kay, brother, that ain’t happenin’!” Samuel snatched the menu out of his brother’s hands. “We could get a large fries with gravy and two Cokes.” The others nodded as Mavis approached the table.

  “What do you guys want?” She was in her busy mode. The end of her pen hovered over a pad of paper.

  “Fries and gravy, two Cokes, four forks.” Chickadee took the menu from Sam and handed it to Mavis.

  “Mm-hmmm.” Mavis stuck the menu under her thick arm. She jotted down the order and took off toward the kitchen.

  “Shoot! I want to talk to her.” Sam half-stood and looked over the rest of the crowd. From one of the other tables, an old friend of his family’s smiled at him with a gap-filled grin. Samuel nodded back and sat down.

  “Don’t worry about it. She’ll be back.” Chickadee smiled at Atim and Otter. They often teased Samuel for his lack of patience. His cousins were convinced it was something that he had caught, like a virus, in the city. Atim seemed to fit into the rez a little better.

  “I just want to know what happened to the volunteers.”

  “The Elders must have said something,” Otter said to his cousins.

  Eventually, Mavis brought the fries to the table along with two Cokes and four forks.

  Samuel was afraid he wouldn’t get a chance to speak to her again.

  He blurted out, “What happened to the volunteers?”

  Mavis snorted. “You tell me. I told Ruth, Ester, Snippy, Pea-Soup, and Rolls. They were all into it and then Rolls called and said her grandma told her not to go. That was that. I didn’t even hear back from the others…and they all have boats that could take people out. They wanted to help when I first told them.”

  Samuel was processing the information.

  Mavis continued. “If you ask me, it was those Elders. Who knows where it started?” She threw up her hands. “But somebody says ‘remember when’ and then none of them move.” She shook her head in disgust.

  Sam nodded.

  Chickadee rolled her eyes at his silence. “We don’t know what happened,” she explained to Mavis. “We were in the parking lot at the Station when the RCMP met the company guys. The big hothead manager was mad that there were no volunteers.”

  “Who? Makowski? I could tell you a few things about that guy.” She chuckled, then remembered she was talking to the nosiest children in town.

  She got serious. “If you want to know why the volunteers dried up…well, go and ask your grandfather. He’s their…whatever you call it.” Mavis dismissed the subject with a wave of her hand and then walked away.

  Chapter 14

  Searching for a Sign

  It was still dark when Otter woke. He quietly snuck out of the house and into his grandfather’s shed. When he came out he was lugging a small boat engine that weighed almost as much as he did. He loaded the engine into an old, tin wagon and pulled it down to the riverbank. The lake was almost wave free. A steady but shallow undulation reflected the night sky and the lights along the shore. The water lapping against the sand and stones was hardly louder than a whisper.

  His grandfather’s canoe was overturned on the shore. Otter pulled a life jacket out from under the canoe and put it on.

  It wasn’t long before Otter was gliding through the waves at the small engine’s top speed. Its steady burp seemed to float out over the darkness of the lake. Otter’s mind still rang with the words that his grandfather had spoken the night before.

  ó

  The cousins had tumbled into Grandpa’s just as the old man was putting on tea.

  “You kids…help me clean up this place. I have guests arriving tomorrow,” Grandpa directed them as soon as they walked in the door.

  Chickadee went to the sink, turned on the hot water, and started organizing the few dirty dishes on the counter. Otter picked up the broom and started sweeping by the wood box and stove. Samuel lined up the boots by the door, organized the jackets, and put away the winter mitts, toques, and scarves. Atim left to get an armful of firewood.

  Grandpa went out to the freezer in the shed and brought back a hunk of moose leg. Taking a big roaster from a cupboard he stood the haunch up inside and started to shave off slices of meat.

  “I have some old friends on their way. They’ll be here to honor the end of Denice’s vision quest.” Their grandfather smiled proudly to himself, but Chickadee, still washing dishes, noticed.

  “We spoke to a guy from outta town who talked to her this afternoon,” Chickadee said quietly. Grandpa looked over, his face held a shadow of worry. “He works for the company, but he’s from Smokey Bend. He seemed like a nice guy.”

  The old man listened but carried on with his work.

  Chickadee continued. “We saw him at the Station. He called us over. He told her that he needs his job. That he’s a dad with kids. He…wanted the company to follow the rules, but…they didn’t always. Still…he needed his job so he could give his kids a good life.”

  Grandpa continued to slice the meat. Finally, he laughed and said, “Maybe that will be her vision. We will see what comes of that.”

  Their Elder didn’t say anything for a long time. Sam finished cleaning up in the entranceway and went to hold the dustpan for Otter.

  Eventually, Grandpa held up the knife he was using to cut the meat, showing it to the kids.

  “It’s an old question, what would you rather go through life with, a knife or a hammer? Maybe that will be your cousin’s vision.”

  The door squeaked open. Wearing his dirty outside boots, Atim walked over the recently swept floor and dumped a crumbling load of logs into the wood box. He immediately turned, kicked his boots sailing back into the entranceway, and then brushed the wood chips onto the kitchen floor.

  The family looked at him.

  “Were you guys talking about me, or what?” he asked when he noticed.

  Chickadee returned to washing dishes. Grandpa continued to slice the moose. Sam and Otter shook their heads and picked up the broom and dustpan again.

  “What…?” Atim looked around confused.

  Sam took the moment to change the topic of the conversation back to the Pixton case.

  “You were right, Grandpa,” Samuel said as he picked the larger wood chips up off the floor. “The boat may have floated on its own. The combination of the rainstorm on the snow caused a lot of water to pour into the lake….”

  “So, the wind could have pushed it to the delta,” Grandpa finished the thought. Chickadee nodded and smiled at him.

  “The wind probably did push the boat,” Chickadee said.

  “But the shore rope was pulled out like someone tried to drag it.” Atim retrieved a sock that had flown across the room when he kicked off his rubber boots. “We have to figure out what caused that…” Atim tossed the hair out of his eyes and looked at his brother, “…before we go to Uncle Levi.” His voice was insistent.

  “Yes, that’s the sticky bit,” Samuel said with a sigh.

  Sensing the tension, Grandpa looked at the brothers. “You need to know who pulled the rope out?”

  The Mighty Muskrats nodded. Grandpa went back to slicing his meat.

  The kids knew he was thinking, so they continued with their chores quietly.

  Their Elder eventually spoke. “Our people believe you are the land you live on. That means the land…the food that’s on it—that which can be gathered and that which can be hunted—its seasons, its water…its possibilities, and even the very shape of the landscape pour themselves into the beings and spirits that live on it.”

  With the roaster full of meat, Grandpa put the cover on and placed it in the fridge. He picked up what was left of the haunch and motioned to Atim. “Go put this back in the
freezer.”

  Atim gingerly, but quickly, took the still-frozen hunk of meat and bone and ran to the shed and back. While he was gone, the old man quietly washed his hands in the sink. When he was done, he put the kettle on and sat at the scarred wood table.

  When Atim returned, Grandpa spoke again. “So, if you want to know a place, you must know the land. Know how it affects the animals and how they live their lives.”

  “Well, hopefully, a little bird will tell us.” Sam shook his head. He had wanted to hear something more helpful from his Elder. His grandfather noticed his slightly hidden sarcasm.

  “If you could talk to the birds, this mystery would already be solved,” Grandpa chided. “Do you know what the birds know?”

  Sam shook his head angrily.

  ó

  The lake was so calm it mirrored the sky perfectly. The small engine on the canoe was slow but sincere as it pushed the craft through the crisp water. The trip seemed to take twice as long as on Uncle Saul’s boat. Otter had passed the cultural camp an hour earlier, had watched the slow approach of the dock at the snake pits, and was now approaching the long, last point of land before the delta.

  He didn’t want to scare off anything in the bay, so he turned off the small motor. Leaning forward, he grabbed a paddle, but just held it crosswise across the canoe. Silently, he passed the fingertip of land and slipped into the crescent shape of Snake Creek Bay.

  The point was covered in gray-trunked evergreens. They stood close together near the shore, creating a thin stretch of thick forest that hid the parking lot and buildings of the snake pits.

  The thin sticks of spruce stopped short before a narrow stretch of field that gradually gave way to swamp grass as the land neared the water. Through it all, an occasional knee of limestone stuck out from the soil like a petrified whale caught in mid-breach.

  The center of the bay was filled with the mud of the delta. Tufts of swamp grass indicated a smattering of small and medium islands within the fan of creeks, silt, and swamp. Willows sprouted in those areas dry enough to support roots. Bulrushes embroidered the edge of any standing water, and a pudding of black and gray mud fertilized the lot. For most of the year, Snake Creek was just a series of trickling fingers into the bay. The boat had been caught near the largest of these, where the water circulation kept the mud clean of foliage.

  Otter floated along with the boat’s momentum. A whispered breeze and the waves set his course. He looked down into the emerald-green water. The sun was taking a greater interest in making the waves sparkle as it climbed in the sky. It was going to be a warm spring day.

  Otter was far enough from shore that most of the mosquitoes hadn’t noticed he was near. For a long time he listened. The slightest shift in his weight relayed itself to the canoe. The motion of the craft was timed by the gently rolling waves. Otter tried to keep still. He sent his hearing out over the water. Far off, a gull complained. From deep inshore, a hawk warned its prey. With the rising temperature, the wind was slowly waking up. The bulrushes rustled somewhere along the shore.

  He picked up the paddle and gently cut the surface of the water. The stringy sinews of his arm and shoulder pulled back. The paddle thunked against the canoe in its journey, and the watercraft lurched forward with each strong stroke.

  Otter came to the place where the doctor’s boat had become stuck in the mud. The mark of the boat’s landing had long been lost as the mucky shore returned to its natural shape.

  Otter watched the shore for a long time. His back began to ache with the effort of staying still in the light canoe.

  Still, he stayed.

  An uncle had once said to stay until you felt uncomfortable and then stay two times longer than that. Otter took a deep breath. The inhalation stretched out his back and rib cage. The water slapped against the side of the boat. After a few minutes, a large fly whizzed by.

  The wind was slowly picking up. Otter continued to watch and listen and breathe. Far in the distance, he heard another screech. He searched the sky. High over the gray-green forest a raptor hovered in the air. It was too far away for even Otter’s sharp eyes to make out more than its shape. He recalled his Grandpa saying “Do you know what the birds know?”

  With that admonition to Samuel in his mind, Otter began to paddle toward the bird.

  As he traveled, Otter’s perspective on the land changed. He was better able to see that the bird hovered over the snake pits. He pulled in his paddle and coasted as he weighed his options. Returning to the dock at the snake pits would be easier than trying to walk from the closest point on the shore. Otter put his back into the next stroke.

  As he passed the point, he kept an eye on the bird.

  With a quick flick, Otter turned the canoe toward the dock. The light canoe cut through the water with each pull on the paddle. With fifteen minutes of hard work, he was gliding up to a little man-made beach beside the snake pits dock.

  Gingerly, he stepped into the cold water. He was happy to be out of the canoe. His stomach muscles and shoulders were sore from the journey. Otter pulled the boat up onto the sand. He thought about the rising water that must have lifted Dr. Pixton’s rental boat off whatever shore he was on and begun its trip to the delta. He looked over the lake and felt the strong wind on his face. That, too, had played its part. The final clue must be here.

  From here the trees blocked the view of the hawk. He would have to go farther in to learn what the birds know.

  Chapter 15

  Vision Crunch

  “He was gone when I woke this morning.” Grandpa looked over his shoulder at Atim, Chickadee, and Sam. He turned back to look through the window at the lake. The remaining Muskrats stood in the entranceway, unsure of what to do next. With a gesture, Grandpa indicated a piece of paper on the table. “He said he was taking my canoe.”

  Chickadee picked up the paper, read it, and then showed it to the brothers. It said, “Grandpa, I’m taking the canoe. Otter”

  Sam chuckled. “That sounds just like Otter.”

  Chickadee and Atim smiled. They teased Otter sometimes about his quiet ways. But when it came down to it, Otter didn’t have to say much to be understood by his cousins.

  “Do you think he went out to the delta?” Chickadee asked.

  “By himself?” Atim sounded more disappointed than concerned.

  “It’s not much of a trip…for Otter.” Sam had a lot of confidence in his cousin’s ability to take care of himself.

  “Don’t worry about him.” Grandpa had been listening. “You should be more worried about your other cousin, Denice.”

  “Yes! Denice!” Chickadee had almost forgotten their older cousin.

  “Now is a very important time in her quest.” Grandpa stared out the window again. “She can’t end it too soon, or she will regret not embracing the challenge, once it’s done. She can’t stay in the wilderness for too long either, or it could harm her.”

  “She’s just sitting on the dock right over there, Grandpa,” Atim protested.

  “Have you ever gone three nights without food and only a little water?” Grandpa look sideways at his grandson. “Your body calls…so harsh. Do you know what it does to your heart? Your mind? She is both weak and strong at this time.”

  Atim was appropriately chagrined. He looked at the floor.

  “Your stomach aches so much that it feels like a hole in your soul.” Grandpa was remembering days gone by. “There’s a time when the thirst is so strong, you feel you’ll do anything for a drink of water…but still you must sit…to prove that you have command over those desires. That you are beyond the needs of your body.”

  “But I thought it was about finding your place in the community.” Chickadee was always curious about her people’s traditions.

  “It is…. Once you see the world beyond your needs, it becomes easier to see your dreams and how you can contribute. But the
re’s always the chance anger and the physical trial will beat you down. And you’ll slide back….” Grandpa got up from his chair with a grunt and moseyed over to the fridge. “It’s on that knife’s edge where your cousin sits now.” He opened the dented and chipped white door and took out a plastic bag tied with a knot on top.

  “Take this to your cousin.” Grandpa gave the care bag to Samuel.

  “What do we say to her? She’s going to ask for you,” Sam said as he felt the weight of the bag and tried to guess what was inside. He felt the slosh and shape of a bottle, but it was far from full. The small, hard square could have been a handful of crackers. He gave the package to Atim.

  “Tell her…tell her I sent this. Tell her I’m praying for her.”

  “What if she asks why you didn’t come?” Chickadee knew her cousin would want to see her Elder.

  “Tell her I know she has all she needs. And I will sing a song for her this evening to get her through the hard times.”

  “You’ll go there?” Sam sounded unsure.

  “No. I’ll sing my song from home. This is still her quest.”

  Chickadee and Sam looked at each other. They knew Denice would be very disappointed.

  “We’ll make sure she gets it.” Atim was eager to please after his reprimand.

  Grandpa looked over his shoulder again as they started to leave. “Come back here later. My guests will be arriving this afternoon. I may need some chores done.”

  The kids assured him they would return and then said their good-byes.

  Once the trio was outside and walking down the short white gravel driveway, Samuel threw his hand in the air. “Why did Otter go off alone?! Now if he finds something, we won’t know about it until he gets back.”

  Chickadee laughed at her cousin. “You know he’ll find something. You just can’t stand to wait.”

  Atim giggled. “Yeah, you just need to plug the info in that thing on your shoulders.”