The Canadian Civil War: Volume 3 - West to the Wall
Page 35
Chapter 35
I finally get to go home
We slept in the village that night, in the house of Marc’s family. We were even given one of the beds, no doubt in Elise’s honor. In the morning we had breakfast with Marc’s family and then assembled in the school. I can’t begin to tell you how much I wanted to get back to DeSmet and then back to Green Bay, even if it involved taking yet another snowmobile ride – a ride I promised myself would be the last in this lifetime.
But Jolliet was in no rush to leave. When we got to the school we found him and DeMille sitting, talking on the buffalo hide-covered platform. Had they sat there all night?
“Good morning,” DeMille shouted across the gym. “Come join us.” We walked over and sat with them. They had a coffee pot on a small table and we helped ourselves to a cup.
“Shawn, I had no idea you could dance,” offered Jolliet.
“I learned two things last night. First, I have no dancing ability. Poor Elise had to show me the same two steps at least a dozen times. And second, it is very good I am not Sioux. I do not have the energy to dance so long.”
“And you, Elise,” Jolliet turned her way. “A Mascoutin dancing among the Sioux. You represented your tribe well.”
“I was honored to be part of the dance.”
“You are always welcome,” added DeMille. “I hope we will see all of you again, but under better circumstances.”
“Yes.” Jolliet took a sip of his own coffee and let the conversation stop for a moment as he prepared to change subjects. “If we may be serious for a few moments, Elise, we were talking about something that you may know. The angry-men. How many are there?”
“When this thing first started, our demographers in Green Bay began doing some research.”
“Let me guess,” Jolliet interrupted. “At your request.”
“Yes, I talked with them, but they were already interested in the migration they were seeing. We have census data that is about three years old, and it shows a gradual increased in the population of Colorado and New Mexico, and the increase is overwhelmingly male. There may be ‘angry-women’ but there aren’t that many.”
“So a slow growth?”
“A slow growth in the past. Here is where they got creative. The census data is several years old, and these guys don’t like to fill in government forms anyway, so we were never sure how accurate our count was. So one of our researchers tried a different approach – property values. The supply of desert land these men like is limited, so any increased demand is going to push the price up.”
“And it has, right?”
“Just in the last year it has doubled. They seem to all want at least five acres so they have some elbow room and privacy. Whole counties down there have seen thousand acre ranches broken into five acre parcels. They don’t even have roads to some of these places. Although I am told for some men, the worse the road, the more they like it, since it gives them even more privacy. These men really are loners.”
“Where are they coming from?” Demille asked.
“Mostly from the north. As Huguenot families started moving south last year, some families broke up. We know any stress increases divorce. If unemployment increases, marriage decreases. A migration as big as the one occurring in Canada this past year will destroy thousands of families. For every man off in the desert, there is a woman with two kids hoping to feed them somehow.” None of us knew what to say in response to that. We sipped coffee and imagined all those bleak homes.
“What a waste.” Jolliet finally said.
“And a threat.” DeMille added. “Foster found two dozen to come up here to make trouble. A better leader might find a thousand.”
“I think they have a better leader – Goulet.” I added. “He was pretty clearly recruiting those men in the hotel. Each of those men went home with a fat wallet and praise for the LNA.”
“We need to stop this before our country is hurt even more.” Jolliet replied. “This is agonizing to see.” And he really did look like a man in pain.
“I think we made some progress in Arkansas,” Elise said. Leave it to her to try to bring hope to a situation. “There are people who still want to be Canadian, and many more who wish for peace. If we have time, we may be able to defuse this situation and calm the waters.”
“Will we have the time?” Jolliet asked. I had never seen him so disturbed. I began to worry about his health. Claude must have seen it too, for he put his hand on Jolliet’s shoulder.
“Claude, you have friends. The Sioux are with you. We guard your western wall. We will guard the desert border too.”
“Thank you Robert – Buffalo Man. We are honored by your friendship.” That pretty much ended the serious part of the conversation. We moved on to talk about travels and family and such. The working part of the meeting was over.
About fifteen minutes later we started heading for the door, saying our goodbyes to various elders and anyone else who happened to be around. By the time we were out by our snowmobiles, word had gotten out that we were leaving, and once again the entire village was present to shake our hands and thank us for visiting. I got a real kick out of shaking hands with three and four year olds, each of whom – boy and girl – stood straight, looked me straight in the eye, and gave me a firm hand to shake – and then broke out into a huge smile when they had finished.
Meanwhile, the weather wasn’t getting any better. It was cloudy and cool with a slight wind, the kind of day that promises worse weather ahead. The security team was professional about it, but they made it clear we needed to get moving. In the end, it was DeMille who ended all the conversations and handshakes. Standing on the top stair of the school, he raised a feathered spear over his head, and said “Goodbye friends.” That seemed to work magic on all the villagers. They backed away and let us get on our snowmobiles and head south.
I won’t trouble you with the details of our return home. The snowmobile ride was cold but uneventful. A helicopter was waiting for Jolliet and he was gone within a few minutes of our return to DeSmet. I found my car waiting for me at Marc’s house. Where it had been for the past weeks I will never know. But somehow it had been returned to me in running condition. Elise and I spent a few minutes thanking Marc and Nicole, and then we were off, retracing my route across the empty plain.
It took us two days to get back to Green Bay. For two days – and two nights – I had Elise to myself. I heard about every agricultural college in Arkansas, every administrator, every research project, every green house with special crops. And with Elise telling the stories, I was fascinated. I doubt I will ever understand genetic engineering, but I had fun imagining Elise walking through the crops, listening to scientists, making friends for her country.
Oh, and when we finally made it back to Green Bay, she made one more person happy. She liked the kitchen.
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