The Case of Windy Lake

by Michael Hutchinson

  His messy hair looked like gray flames above the burning crimson of his face as he marched toward the gate.

  The truck driver hopped out of the truck. “They tricked me!”

  “What?”

  “The protestors! They pretended someone got run over. When your men went to check it out, they broke and ran.”

  “Did you see who pretended to get hit?”

  “No. I just heard them yell, ‘She’s hit!’”

  The manager noticed the Muskrats and shouted, “Hey, you kids, get out of here!”

  The cousins just smiled and stayed on their side of the road. Mr. Makowski pushed the rolled sleeves of his shirt farther up his forearm, debating whether to come over. But he forgot about the Muskrats when the fittest of the security guards returned with one of the protestors.

  The twenty-something guard held up a chain. “He was trying to lock himself to the big gas tank with this.”

  “What the heck were you trying to do!” The veins stuck out on the manager’s neck. He pulled the thin activist closer as he spat the words.

  “Stop you from killing our land!” The protestor pushed against the big man’s arms but couldn’t free himself.

  “Oh, you freakin’ idiots! It’s the twenty-first century!” Makowski’s rant was interrupted by police sirens approaching down the road.

  “Now we’ll see if these Indian cops will arrest their own.”

  More guards brought their captors back to the gate. The manager studied each activist.

  “How many were there?” His eyes bored into the senior guard.

  “We don’t know, sir. Nobody thought to count as they ran in.”

  “Is this all all of them?”

  “Our guys are still checking.”

  “Damn!”

  The big man paced back and forth as a police truck pulled up and crunched to a stop in front of the dump truck.

  As Uncle Levi opened his car door, the manager marched up and shouted in his face.

  “You’re responsible for your own people! Why can’t you control them?!”

  The Mighty Muskrats watched as their Uncle stepped slowly out of his vehicle, fixed his belt, and swept his gaze around the site, the bush, and the horizon.

  “Because they’re people,” he said.

  He sighed when the company bigwig began to scream in his face again.

  “We were told that the law would be followed! Well?! Where were you when these animals ripped down my gate?” Mr. Makowski was turning purple now.

  Uncle Levi looked at the activists standing in a tight group guarded by company security. He shut the police-truck door and looked at the Muskrats. “Was your cousin here?”

  The kids nodded as one and looked into the compound.

  “All right.” Their uncle gave them a smirk. “Get out of here. We don’t need any more of the family in trouble.”

  Uncle Levi hitched up his belt and walked onto the company lot.

  The manager followed close on his heels. “Their cousin? Who are those kids?! What do they have to do with this? Where the hell are you going?”

  Uncle regarded the company man with a slightly sympathetic look. “You don’t have them all. The most troublesome one is still in here.”

  Everyone watched the two as they headed toward the big building. The manager stewed as Uncle Levi sauntered. Scanning left and right, he searched the shadows and crannies of the yard.

  The security guards turned their attention to the gaggle of activists. The two groups watched each other closely, but neither left the area around the gate and hulk of the delayed dump truck. The Muskrats watched. When the adults’ backs were turned, they quietly slipped past the truck and through the wide gate.

  Uncle Levi and the company man were heading past the low, wide warehouse that hid the docks, barges, and river. The kids quickly, but quietly, moved out of range of a guard’s easy glance and followed the two authority figures. A shout of discovery was heard from behind the yellowish building as they neared the company offices at its end. Their uncle and Mr. Makowski quickly vanished around the corner. The Muskrats broke into a run. Behind them, a yelp announced that the guards had noticed their presence on the wrong side of the fence.

  Behind the long warehouse was a wide pier with two docks that stretched out into the lake. The cranes worked steadily. The area was littered with steel boxes of various shapes and sizes. Posts dotted the edge of the pier for the barges and boats to tie to. One of the company men stood with his hands on his hips glaring down at something hidden behind a set of stacked crates.

  Mr. Makowski cursed loudly when he saw what it was. When Uncle Levi caught up, he took off his hat, wiped his brow, then shook his head.

  Unseen, the Muskrats slipped behind a pile of boxes. They jostled for position before they slowly peeked over the edge.

  The first things they saw were the mine manager swearing, their uncle staring out over the water, and the company employee trying to hide his smile behind his hand.

  Farther down, their activist cousin sat with her arms and legs wrapped around one of the thick mooring posts. Denice looked as quiet and serene as the calm water beside her. Her grasp around the post was reinforced by metal; her hands, past her wrists, were slipped into either end of a steel tube, securing her firmly in place. The Muskrats looked at each other and giggled. After her own laughter subsided, Chickadee shushed the others. “Let’s listen!”

  Once again, the kids watched from behind the crate. The security guards had stopped looking for them and gravitated to their manager.

  Denice started screaming her activist slogans. “You can’t drink money!”

  “Cut her loose from there!” Mr. Makowski threw a hand in the air. A few of the gathering workers scurried to find tools that could meet the demand.

  “First Nations are the defenders of the land…except for my Uncle Levi!”

  Uncle Levi slowly shook his head. “You can’t see her hands.”

  “There are greener alternatives!” Denice’s voice was getting rough.

  “What?” The manager was flustered.

  Uncle was his usual calm self. “You can’t cut through that pipe unless you know where her fingers are,” he said.

  “Mother Earth prefers green!”

  “I don’t care about her fingers!” the manager countered.

  “I know,” Uncle Levi rumbled. “That’s why we’re going to make a perimeter, and you and your men are going to stay out of it.”

  With his big police shoes, Uncle Levi paced off a ten-foot distance.

  “Water is the blood of Mother Earth!” Denice kept up her message.

  The manager lost his mind. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? You’re closing off half the pier! How are my men supposed to load the boats?”

  “I want you and your men to stay outside that circle.” Uncle Levi was unruffled in the face of the manager’s storm.

  “Who is your supervisor?”

  Uncle Levi smiled at the implied threat.

  “Hell no, I won’t go!” Denice’s voice was growing hoarse.

  Her uncle continued to ignore her.

  “She’s only tied to one post. There’s plenty of room to get around her.” He pointed at the circle made by the boxes. He noticed the Muskrats peering over the edge of one but said nothing.

  “I’m going to have your job!” Makowski jabbed his finger in the air.

  Uncle Levi hitched up his belt and chuckled. “She hasn’t really blocked you at all has she?”

  “Without water we die!” Denice screamed.

  The Muskrats burst into giggles at their cousin’s protest.

  “Look…” Makowski bellowed.

  “NO!” With all the cursing the manager had done, this was the first time the police officer had spoken sharply to him.

  The
men’s eyes met.

  “You look…” Uncle Levi’s voice was serious and steady. He pointed again at the circle of boxes around Denice.

  The manager took a deep breath and assessed the situation. “I suppose not.”

  Denice knew her uncle well enough to keep her mouth shut for the moment.

  “We can leave these boxes here,” Makowski conceded.

  “Thank you. I realize that she’s trouble.” Uncle Levi’s easy tone returned quickly. With a touch of annoyance, he added, “She’s my niece.”

  “Really?” Makowski looked down at Denice.

  “Really. But I’ll go talk to her and if that don’t work, I’ll get my pop to come down and talk to her.”

  “We’re just borrowing the Earth for our children!” Denice started again. The Muskrats exploded with laughter once again.

  “Look…I don’t care how this is resolved. But get it done. Time is money.” The manager was still angry, but he suddenly thought it better to be respectful to their uncle. He stomped off, cursing at his crew as he directed them to be careful of Denice.

  Uncle Levi hitched up his belt and set his eyes on his niece. He sighed again and shook his head. The Muskrats stepped out from their hiding place and approached.

  Uncle Levi took a long look at the water before finally setting his eyes on Denice.

  “So, what? What will get you to stop this?”

  “I don’t want them here,” Denice said angrily. “They’re supposed to follow the agreement, but they don’t.”

  “They say they do.”

  “C’mon!” Denice urged her uncle. “Hardly anyone from here works at this stupid mine.” She shook her head. “We fish…and they’re going to kill the water.”

  “Okay.” Their uncle sighed. “So, you’re going to stay here…for how long?”

  “I can go for days without food.”

  “Okay, days. It’s something to tell the company.”

  “Who are you working for? Our people or the company?”

  “I work for the people. And, right now, our community is officially for this project.”

  “They’ll kill our water!”

  Uncle Levi walked over to the kids. “Come with me.”

  After speaking with the manager and telling him that Denice might be there a couple of days, Uncle Levi ordered the Muskrats to hop into his truck.

  He hitched up his belt before he got in.

  Chapter 4

  Fishing for Information

  “She’s on a vision quest.” Grandpa chuckled as he thought about it. “She picked her wilderness.”

  “What do you mean, Grandpa?” Sam asked. They were once again at the old man’s house. Chickadee and Sam leaned against the kitchen counter and listened to their Elders. Otter and Atim, preferring the outdoors, hung around in the yard.

  The old man looked at his grandson. “Well, do you know what a vision quest is?”

  “It’s a test,” Sam said eagerly. “A test to see if a child is ready to be an adult.”

  “Vision quests are the seeking of a vision. They’re done for many reasons, but the first vision quest can be an important rite of passage.” Grandpa paused as he felt a memory from his distant past. “Before young people go on their first vision quest, they are told about the great ones among their people, the heroes in their families, and other important teachings.”

  “And they don’t get any food or water.” Chickadee smiled. “That must be tough.”

  “Well…it is a test in many ways. After being told the stories, after some time in the sweat lodge, the youngster is put somewhere safe and alone. And there they stay for, sometimes, four days and they are given very little, if anything, to drink.”

  “Why, Grandpa?”

  “For two reasons, I guess. At first, it’s about testing your ability to say ‘No’ to yourself. Finding your vision is something that only the best piece of you can do, so you must first learn to say ‘No’ to the animal in you. The animal that thirsts, the animal that hungers, the animal that complains when it has to do homework.” Grandpa smiled.

  “What’s the other reason?” Sam pinched his lip as he listened.

  “To prepare you for your vision, which comes from above. Your body is of the Earth.”

  “And what do you see?” Sam asked eagerly.

  “It depends on the vision you are seeking.” Grandpa was pleased with his grandson’s interest. “Hopefully, on their first vision quest, a young person will see how to contribute to their people. To see how their Creation-given talents are best able to serve their family and community.”

  “And how is Denice on a vision quest, Grandpa? Isn’t it usually for boys?” Chickadee filled Grandpa’s teacup as she spoke.

  “Anyone can search for a vision, but it is true that it is usually a rite of passage for young men. Your cousin has had a rough life, but she has the heart of a leader. It is her struggle that gave her that strength.”

  “But she’s not in the forest.” Chickadee was matter-of-fact.

  “No, but she is on her own. She is facing this…wilderness alone. She has chosen. Maybe this location is important to her vision.” He shrugged his shoulders and then smiled. “Your cousin wants to test the company, but…that may not be all she gets.” The old man chortled.

  “Pops!” their uncle rumbled. “This isn’t funny or…spiritual. She’s just causing trouble.”

  The old man waved his empty teacup in the air.

  “She’s being a voice,” he insisted.

  “There’re lots of others who think like her,” Chickadee said as she refilled her Elders’ teacups.

  “No…I know.” Levi shook his head.

  The two men sat quietly, looking out over the yard and the lake beyond.

  Finally, their uncle spoke.

  “Will you talk to her?”

  “A person on a vision quest needs to be told of the heroes in our family.” Grandpa sounded certain.

  Uncle Levi paused to say something, but instead he just sighed, and then rose to leave. “Just convince her to let them cut the tube that’s covering her hands.”

  “I’ll speak to her.”

  Uncle Levi motioned to the kids as he made his way out of the aged house.

  Chickadee and Sam followed. The door complained loudly as it closed.

  “This isn’t helping find that missing archeologist, hey Uncle?” Chickadee was hoping he’d have some more information about their case.

  Atim and Otter came around the corner.

  “No, it isn’t.” Uncle Levi jumped as the receiver in his truck barked to life. He walked quickly to the vehicle, opened the door, and told the person on the other end to repeat themselves.

  The radio cackled, “We need you back at the base, boss. They may have found that old man.”

  The Muskrats perked up and listened carefully. Their uncle noticed their interest and smiled. “Well, it looks like your new case may be solved, Muskrats.”

  The kids looked at each other, deflated.

  “That’s okay, Uncle.” Sam shrugged.

  “We’re just happy he’s been found.” Chickadee looked at the ground, disappointed.

  “Mm-hmm.” Uncle smiled, hitched up his belt, and rolled into the truck. With a wave, he pulled out of the driveway and drove off.

  “What are we going to do now?” Atim tossed the hair from his eyes.

  Chickadee shrugged.

  “Let’s go to the Station and see what people are saying,” Sam suggested.

  “That sounds like a good idea. I’m hungry,” Atim enthusiastically agreed.

  “You’re always hungry,” Chickadee teased. “Do we have any money?”

  Otter pulled a handful of change out of his pocket.

  Atim began to count it. “It’s enough for some fries…maybe a pop,
” he said triumphantly.

  “Super!”

  “Let’s go!”

  The Station was more than just a gas station and a garage. It was also one of the four restaurants in town, it had a 24/7 convenience store, and it was one of the focal points of the moccasin telegraph. When the people were in a teasing mood, they often called it the Drama Station, but mostly, it was just the Station.

  Chickadee breathed in the dusty, oily smell of the garage as they stepped into the gas station and store. Enticed by the prospect of french fries, Atim and Otter headed for the door leading to the restaurant.

  Sam scanned the room. He nodded at the teenager who was serving a highway-weary trucker. A few locals shopped the shelves, but there was nobody he was related to. He followed Chickadee and the others into the restaurant.

  The jukebox was playing “Love Hurts” by Nazareth. Scarred and scuffed blue-and-once-white tiles covered the floor. Sun streamed in from large windows that overlooked the gas pumps, the parking lot, and the trucks buzzing north up the highway. Booths lined the other two walls. Tables and chairs were arranged in a semi-organized way across the checkered floor. Half the restaurant was occupied by First Nation people hunkered over cups of coffee. A few tables held non-local miners and highway travelers. Laughter was coming from most tables and jokes were being shared between a few. The quiet tables held smiling Elders.

  One of the few local miners pointed at the kids, smiled, and then said something, which brought a laugh from his fellow employees. “Here come the Mighty Muskrats,” the miner teased when they walked closer.

  “Must be tough, working in a mine,” Chickadee threw back.

  “Pfft, we’re on our week off. Two weeks in, one week out. It’s THE life!” The men laughed.

  “What do you guys know about that old man who got lost?” Sam liked a joke, but he was there for a reason.

  So was Atim. “I’m going to order our fries,” he whispered in Chickadee’s ear before he and Otter walked off to find a table.