Whisper to the Blood

TWENTY-EIGHT

You can't stop the Suulutaq Mine," Kate said, "and I'll tell you why. "

A thousand dollars an ounce." Most of the Niniltna Native Association's 237 shareholders were in the Niniltna School gymnasium that afternoon, sitting on gray metal folding chairs. There was a continual susurration of whispering, an occasional baby's cry, the clink of dishes as aunties Vi, Edna, and Balasha set out a potluck lunch on a row of tables at the back of the room.

Kate was front and center on the little stage, speaking into a microphone, not liking the sound of her voice as it reverberated off the high ceiling, not liking being the cynosure of all eyes, hating the position of responsibility and leadership into which she had been thrust this day. Oh Emaa, if you could see me now, wouldn't you be pleased.

In a line of folding chairs on the stage sat the other members of the board, Auntie Joy still hurt, Old Sam sardonic, Demetri taciturn, Harvey pugnacious, but they were there, lined up at her right hand like the good soldiers they were. At a card table on her left, Annie Mike took industrious notes and recorded votes. Solidarity forever. Right.

"We can't demonize the people who want to build it, either," Kate said, "because at a thousand dollars an ounce they'll build it anyway. And then here we'll be, the mine a going concern and the people running it with no reason to do us any favors." She paused, and added, "Or hire any Park rats."

A lot of them didn't like what they were hearing. Fine, they could fire her in the vote to follow.

"I'll tell you what we can do," she said. "We can get in bed with Global Harvest, all the way under the covers, and make sure we're watching over their shoulders every step of the way. That is what this proposed advisory committee is for. You don't like the idea of earthen dams? Fine, tell Global Harvest to come up with something better. At a thousand dollars an ounce, they can afford it.

"You're worried the arsenic they use in the extraction process will pollute the groundwater? At a thousand dollars an ounce they can come up with a process that leaves a friendlier environmental footprint.

"You're worried about what the influx of increased population will do to the nature and character of the Park? Okay, we set some guidelines, starting with they can't build a road from the Nabesna Mine to Suulutaq, they have to build their own airstrip. We set more guidelines about the use of the road to Ahtna, too, like maybe they can access it only on a limited, supervised, case-by-case basis. At a thousand dollars an ounce, they can afford it."

Auntie Vi had paused, plate in hand, to listen. On either side, aunties Balasha and Edna were listening, too.

"You're worried that Global Harvest is going to hire all Outsiders for the good jobs?" Kate said. "Then our first order of business is to ask Global Harvest, 'What do you need in the way of employees?' and get them to help us create-and fund-an educational program for the kids of the Park. At a thousand dollars an ounce"-she was startled when almost everyone in the room said it with her-"they can afford it!"

There was a ripple of laughter, and a couple of people even exchanged high fives.

On stage, the board members gave each other covert looks. No one had stirred up a shareholders meeting like this since Ekaterina Shugak had been chair, and Ekaterina, a woman who personified dignity, had not encouraged public displays of either approval or dissent.

"Is there any further discussion? No. Okay. I'll ask you now to vote on the expansion of the board of directors, the creation of the mine advisory committee and the contest for a new association logo. Voice vote first. If there is no clear majority on voice vote, Ms. Mike will distribute ballots. Then, a voice vote on the election of myself to the board of directors, followed by a shareholders' confirmation vote on the board's selection of chair."

She looked at Annie. Annie nodded.

"The motion before the Niniltna Native Association is to increase the membership of its board of directors from five to nine members, with all the rights and responsibilities accruing thereto. All in favor?"

When it was over she touched Auntie Joy on the arm before she could leave the stage. "Come with me, please, Auntie."

Out of the crowd she picked out Auntie Vi, Auntie Balasha, and Auntie Edna. Avoiding all the glad-handing and congratulations pointed her way, she led them into the kitchen, where she threw everyone else out and closed and locked the door.

"We have to serve food, Katya," Auntie Vi said, bridling.

"They can serve themselves for a few minutes," Kate said. She folded her arms and looked them over with a bleak eye. "I'm only going to ask you this once. If you lie to me and I find out later that you lied, I will never trust you, any of you, individually or together, ever again."

Auntie Vi ruffled up like an irritated cockatoo, but before she could say anything Kate said baldly, "Did you hire Howie Katel-nikof to kill Louis Deem?"

A ghastly silence fell over the room. It was an incongruous setting for this discussion, stainless steel cupboards, counters, sinks, and appliances, with here and there evidence of hasty meal prep, a few elbows of macaroni, a lone potato chip, a brilliant purple spill of grape Kool-Aid mix.

The four aunties exchanged sidelong glances and by some secret signal agreed to maintain a wary silence. Kate hadn't really expected anything else. This confrontation was about the future, not the past.

"If you did, you took the law into your own hands," she said. "You set yourselves up as judge, jury, and executioner." She paused, giving Auntie Vi a chance to break into her standard accusation about Kate not doing her job and the aunties having to step in. Auntie Vi glared but did not speak.

"Have you noticed what's happened since?" she said. "It's spreading, this vigilantism of yours. It's like an infection, spreading across the Park like some kind of disease. You settle the score with Louis, then Mary Bingley decides she can handle Willard's shoplifting on her own, Demetri beats the crap out of Father Smith for blading his trapline, Bonnie keys the truck of the kid who put a salmon in the mailbox, Arliss shoots Mickey before he hits her again."

Kate shook her head. "And then you do it again."

She waited, watching as they exchanged sidelong glances.

"Yeah, you get the Grosdidier boys to track down the Johansens and beat on them."

Their heads snapped around at that, all right. "Don't bother denying it. You did, I know you did, we'll leave it at that."

She frowned at the floor for a moment, and looked up again. "Don't you see, Aunties? You're the center. If you don't hold, it's almost like you give permission for things to fall apart."

"We tell no one," Auntie Joy said, and then at a fiery glance from Auntie Vi her mouth shut again with an audible snap.

"Auntie," Kate said with admirable patience, "this is the Park. You sneeze on one side of it, five minutes later on the other side of it you're dying of pneumonia. Did you really think you could keep it a secret? Any of it?"

Again she looked at Auntie Vi, and again Auntie Vi remained silent, although it was pretty obvious the top would blow off the bottle in the not-too-distant future.

"Okay," Kate said. "Best we say nothing more about this, to anyone. For the record, Howie ratted you out, and then reneged on his confession. Now he's saying he didn't kill Louis at all, and Jim and I halfway believe him. He and Willard only have one shotgun out at their place, and we checked. The shot in the shells they've got doesn't match the shot that was found in Louis's body."

The expressions that crossed their faces were interesting, to say the least. Shock, surprise, then anger. "He's been blackmailing you, hasn't he?" Kate said. It was what she'd realized that evening, moments before Old Sam came in the door to tell them about Macleod's murder. "Saying he'll tell if you don't give him money?"

Again, she read her answer on their faces. "Well, now that you know we know, you don't have to pay him any more."

She looked at them, at these four doughty, indomitable forces of nature, Balasha in her seventies the youngest, the rest of them over the eighty mark. They'd been a power in Kate's life from her birth.

She could count on one hand the times she'd gone up against them, and never without guilt or remorse. It grieved her now to have to lay down the law to them, but someone had to.

"Insofar as what happened out there today," she said, and they looked up at the grim note in her voice. She nodded at the door. "They confirmed me in office, Aunties. You got what you wanted. And you'll get it for two more years."

"Katya-," Auntie Vi said.

"Two more years," Kate said again, her voice not rising but her tone inflexible, "the time remaining in Billy Mike's term of office. Then I step down." She surveyed their consternation with no little satisfaction, and maybe just a hint of a tremor that she might be wrong about this. Only now was she beginning to wonder about Ekaterina's choices when she had been named to the board. Was it, after all, what she had really wanted? Or had it been forced on her, too?

She banished the niggling doubts and said firmly, "Two years is long enough to find and groom the next chair, and bring them up to speed. Two years is long enough to build a policy to ensure that Global Harvest treats fairly with us over the Suulutaq Mine."

"That mine not a done deal, Katya," Auntie Vi said sternly.

"No," Kate said, "and I imagine you and a bunch of other people are going to have a lot to say about that over the next fifty years."

"Somebody strong needed to guide the people during that time," Auntie Vi said.

"A lot of strong people will be necessary," Kate said. "I'm not Emaa, Aunties." She said it again just to be sure they heard her, whether they believed it or not. "I'm not Emaa. She was Association chair for twenty years, and after a while she got so she thought she'd been anointed rather than elected."

This was heresy. There were shocked and reproachful looks. Okay, fine. "You remember Mark Miller, Aunties? The park ranger who went missing seven years ago? Yes, I can see that you do. She was willing to have an innocent man convicted of that crime rather than see one of her own go down for it."

They didn't say anything, and prudently, she didn't ask them if they had approved of Emaa's actions. "I'm not Emaa," Kate said again. "I won't ever be Emaa. I'll do what I can for the shareholders, for the Association, for the Park during the next two years, and I'll do my best to handpick a competent successor. But you should also know one of the first things I'm going to do is propose an amendment to the bylaws for term limits for board and chair. Two terms, max, and then they're out. George Washington was right about that."

"What!"

"Katya, this lousy idea, you-" "Ekaterina would roll in her grave!"

"Then she rolls," Kate said. "No one should be in power for that long, Aunties. After too long, the people holding office start to feel invincible, arrogant, as if the power is theirs by right and not by the consent of the governed. One shareholder, one vote. One board member, two terms."

"Won't pass," Auntie Vi said.

"Yes, it will, Auntie," Kate said. "If I have to convince every shareholder one at a time, baby to elder, including every one of you, yes, it will."

They looked to a woman spitting mad, even Auntie Joy. Kate grinned at them, although it was an expression lacking any real amusement. "You wanted me to be on the board. You wanted me to be chair. Be careful what you wish for, Aunties. You might just get it."

She went to the door and paused for her parting shot. "Oh, and on a personal note."

She looked at Auntie Balasha. "I'm not moving into town, Auntie. I like my homestead, and I've got all the company I want or need. I don't want to be any closer to family. I don't want to be any closer to the other shareholders, or to the Association office. I'm right where I want to be, and I'm going to stay there."

She looked at Auntie Edna and her eyes hardened. "My personal life is my own affair, Auntie. Don't you tell me who I can or can't have a relationship with ever again."

The other three aunties looked at Auntie Edna in surprise. Kate looked at Auntie Vi. "I'm not going to be the next Association chair for life, Auntie. In case, you know, you didn't hear me the first sixteen times."

Lastly, she looked at Auntie Joy. "And thanks for being the only auntie who didn't try to rearrange my life, Auntie Joy. I appreciate it." She left.

As she was leaving the gym she felt someone touch her sleeve, and turned to see Harvey Meganack. "It wasn't a landslide, Kate," he said. "You only won by four votes. Next time it'll be different."

"Yeah," she said, "next time I won't be running."

He snorted his disbelief and walked away.

Why was it so difficult for anyone to believe that she didn't want it, any of it, not the power, not the glory, not the responsibility, none of it?

She thought again of Tikani vanishing slowly down the years, its patriarch starving to death, its youth wasted from a lack of occupation, sinking into a life of poverty and despair. Too many villages were going the same way. If something didn't change, if someone didn't bring in more jobs to the Park, they would vanish, too.

Niniltna could be on that list one day.

She turned and looked at the crowded room, the chairs shoved against the walls, filled with people gossiping with neighbors over plates of fry bread and smoked fish and mac and cheese, exchanging family news at the laden tables when they went back for seconds. Elly Aguilar, Auntie Edna's granddaughter, was sitting next to Martin Shugak, her belly pushing out almost to her knees. She smiled shyly in answer to a question Martin asked, and took his hand and put it on her belly. A second later he jumped, and they both laughed.

Kate shook her head. Every now and then Martin made her think that there might be more than a loser residing in that body after all.

The basketballs were out, a line of kids from eight to eighty doing layups, jumping, hooking them in, bouncing them off the backboard, and then by some unspoken osmosis the layup line re-formed in the key and it was free throws. Free throws win ball games. One of Coach Bernie Koslowski's immutable laws.

A little girl in a pink kuspuk skittered out of the crowd and careened into Kate's legs with such force that she bounced back and landed on her fanny on the floor. She looked up, eyes wide, too surprised to cry. Kate laughed and tossed the girl up into her arms. "Hey," she said, softly chiding. "Watch where you're going, you could hurt somebody."

The little girl stared at her wide-eyed, one finger in her mouth, a little snot leaking out of her nose, before wriggling free and careening off in a different direction.

Kate opened the door and went outside.

Not on her watch.