“What are we taking her, Grandpa?” Chickadee pulled up beside him. The old man had thrown on a well-worn, quilted-wool jacket and cowboy boots for the journey.
“Just your grandma’s blanket.” The old man paced his strides with the long stick, though he didn’t seem to need it.
“No food?” Chickadee was concerned.
“She doesn’t need food on a vision quest,” Grandpa said.
Chickadee looked back at her cousins, wide-eyed. They shook their heads in surprise.
Sam caught up to Chickadee and his grandfather.
“Grandpa, what do you think of them searching by the snake pits?”
The Muskrats noticed their Elder stiffen a little, but he kept on walking.
“They won’t find him there.”
“Is there anything special there? Anything he would have been looking for…as a bone-digger?” Samuel probed.
Grandpa walked on in silence. The Muskrats held their breath.
“We heard a story about a secret hiding place there.” Sam continued to look for answers. “But if you don’t know anything about it…”
Grandpa stopped. His eyes flashed with anger as he looked at Samuel and then each of the Mighty Muskrats in turn. For an instant, a smile flickered across his face, but it was quickly lost in a grumble. He began to walk again. Grandpa’s stick went tock, tick, tock, tick on the ground.
“If it’s knowledge we have to earn, Grandpa…” Chickadee, a little worried, looked up into her Elder’s face.
The old man’s frown broke into a smile. “It would be hard to tell you kids there is nothing there if you’ve already seen the sign. And if you’ve already found and read the sign, then you’ve done much to earn new knowledge.”
The Mighty Muskrats smiled. Chickadee and Atim blinked back tears. Otter and Samuel felt a rising warmth in their hearts. It was a great thing to earn a little more of their Elder’s trust.
Their grandfather walked along quietly. The Muskrats knew he was collecting his thoughts. They were almost a quarter of a mile down the road before he began to speak again.
“Long ago, before the coming of the towns and cities, before the coming of the missionaries, before the coming of fur traders, our nation’s history was taken up with our relations with the Dakota and Anishinaabe to the south and the Dene to the north.” Grandpa nodded. It was a good place to start the story. “For many years the Dakota and Anishinaabe fought, but occasionally, they would come north to our lands. Sometimes it was an alliance between the two that allowed their warriors time to explore. Sometimes one side or the other suffered a great defeat and the winning warriors sought out other sources of glory. And the Dene, north of us, were always trying to come a little farther south, to share a little more of the warmth of our lands. Sometimes they came in desperation. Sometimes they came because their stomachs were full.”
The old man motioned to a spot where a shelf of rock poked out of the brush. “I need to sit down to tell this story.”
Chickadee took his hand and helped him across a dry, thin strip of high ground that led across the ditch. The skeletal rushes of last year rattled as they brushed by. The other kids followed.
When Grandpa was settled, he sat in silence for a while, catching his breath, and remembering ages past. Chickadee was beside him, watching him, holding his hand. Atim lowered himself behind them, hunched over the bagged blanket on his lap and looking off down the road. Standing with his hands in his pockets, Sam was trying to see how far he could peer into the bush. The thin spruce created a wall of gray. As he paced around the group, Otter studied the ground at his feet, picking up the occasional stone and throwing it across the road.
Eventually, Grandpa spoke again.
“In those times of war, our warriors needed a place to hide those most precious to them. A place that could protect us, when our enemies invaded our lands, but also in the harshest winters, when the winds and the snow became too much or stayed too long.”
In the distance, the snap and crackle of a vehicle coming down the gravel road could be heard.
Grandpa motioned toward the south and the delta. “Back there, beyond the snake pits, is a cliff in the limestone, and against that soft rock, the water flowed. And over time it carved a great cavern. That is The Refuge. It is used, maybe once every four generations, but it has been kept a secret since time began for our people.”
“If it’s just a cave, why would the archeologist be excited about it?” Sam asked.
“The caches.” Grandpa looked him in the eye. “For generations, especially in times of plenty, families have cached food in the area. Some used cracks in the rock, some used the deeper dirt above and behind The Refuge, but there are caches all over. Some of them are many generations old.”
The dented rez truck speeding down the road was suddenly upon them…and then gone. Atim tossed the hair out of his eyes and waved as it went past. Then they were engulfed in a cloud of white dust that followed in the wake of the beaten vehicle.
Grandpa waved his hand in front of his face. The kids dramatically coughed and waved their arms. Atim and Otter bent over holding their tummies. They laughed when the cloud began to clear.
Grandpa asked if the blanket got dusty. Atim shook his head and held up the bag. Its opening was scrunched in his large fist. Static held the dust firmly to the outside of the once-shiny plastic bag.
Samuel coughed. “But wouldn’t people use their caches? Wouldn’t most be rotten?”
“Old and rotten is what archeologists make their money off of.” Grandpa was annoyed by the dust. He wanted to walk again. Chickadee helped him slide off the rock and back onto his feet. Otter held on to Grandpa’s walking stick so his Elder could use it to pull himself up.
Once moving, their grandfather started his explanation again. “And yes, sometimes the families went back and got their caches…sometimes they didn’t. But it was a rule that you didn’t touch anyone’s stores except your own. Over so many generations, so many families…there is a lot of our people’s work in the ground there.”
“So, you think the company man might be back there?”
“I don’t think so.” Grandpa shook his head. “But if there is a big RCMP search in the area The Refuge may be found by outsiders.”
“Why don’t you think the archeologist is there, Grandpa?” Sam asked.
“Well, he could be. I don’t know, but I don’t feel it.” Grandpa shrugged, unwilling to explain his intuition beyond that.
“Then how did the boat get there?” Sam challenged gently.
“I don’t know. But boats float even without a man in them.”
“What about the rope being pulled toward the shore?”
“I don’t know about that one either…but the answer is out there. Go look again.” Grandfather waved in the direction of the delta.
Chapter 10
Visiting a Water Warrior
The Mighty Muskrats and Grandpa turned off the road and onto a shortcut through the bush. It was dark, cool, and damp under the trees. Soon they were back on the road that led past the company pier.
At the gate, the old man explained why they were there. The company lot was busy. There was much hustle and bustle. The large trucks were leaving like clockwork.
The guards went through their grandfather’s jacket and searched the blanket they had brought for Denice. Grandpa chuckled as the guards unfolded the blanket looking for something that wasn’t there. Then he insisted they fold it up again. When they went to frisk Grandpa, his smile turned to a frown. But it was relit with a guffaw as the guard searched the old man’s ticklish spots.
“We good?” Grandpa smiled at the young man who searched him.
Slightly chagrined, the guard nodded. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled, not meeting the old man’s eye.
The company man looked over the kids but didn’t bothe
r searching them. Instead, he led the five of them across the yard, around the warehouse, and down the pier. It was there an uncomfortable and dejected Denice sat.
“Grandpa!” The relief in her voice was obvious. “Did you bring any food?”
“No, my girl.” Grandpa gave her a happy, proud smile. “But we brought you a blanket.”
Their cousin had been leaning heavily against the post she was hugging. Her face was dirty, and her hair hung in wet strings. Chickadee quickly began rubbing her shoulders and back.
“Ho-lee, cousin,” Otter said quietly.
“Grandpa! I’m so hungry…and cold,” Denice said quietly.
“Well, take this, my girl.” Grandpa motioned to Atim to take out the blanket. “This is your Grandmother’s good blanket. I want you to take care of it while you’re here.”
Once it was out of the bag, Atim handed the star-blanket to his grandfather.
“Take care of it?! I’m sitting on a dock, Grandpa. I can’t even use my arms. Look how dirty it is here.”
“Well, you’ll have to be careful.” The old man spread the blanket over her back with Otter’s help.
“I…I…” Denice looked down at the pattern covering her shoulders.
“You’re hungry…” Grandpa took a seat on a nearby crate. A group of workmen walked past, curious at the little family gathering on their dock.
“So hungry, Grandpa. But you didn’t bring any food!”
“I have some water.” The old man unclipped a plastic bottle strapped to his belt. He gave it to Otter. The boy went over to his cousin and held it to her lips. Denice bowed her head and drank eagerly.
“Only a little!” Grandpa held up his hand, and Otter pulled the bottle away. Denice coughed and sputtered. Chickadee kneeled down and wiped her cousin’s mouth with her sleeve. At that moment, the company manager rounded the corner of the warehouse with a group of men.
“Do you want to leave this place, child?” Grandpa asked. “It has been a cold night.”
At this Denice sat up and shook the self-pity from her face. She flashed a determined smile.
“They’ll destroy our water, Grandpa. They’ll…you see what the hydro dam does to the shore.” Denice was getting fired up even amidst her pain.
“All right, all right. We’ll be going then.” Grandpa got up to leave.
“Grandpa…why did you come if you’re not going to bring food or help me?”
“We brought you a sip of water, which is more than some get on a quest.” Grandpa smiled affectionately.
“Who are you? And what are you doing here? I didn’t authorize your entry!” Mr. Makowski was not enraged like he had been the day before, but he was pretty stern nonetheless.
“I’m her grandfather.” The old man hopped off the crate and walked to Denice.
“Well, if you didn’t come to cut her loose, we don’t want you here. We don’t want anyone bringing her supplies.” Mr. Makowski swung his arms as he spoke.
“I gave Denice her grandmother’s blanket.” Grandpa was slow and calm. When he was talking to someone who was angry, Grandpa always spoke to them as though they were children. It made him seem a little child-like himself, but only to those who didn’t know him. “It is an old blanket, one of the last that my wife made before she passed. I hope you won’t mind. We don’t want her to get sick.”
The manager scratched the back of his head. “Well…no…we don’t want her getting sick…on my pier.” His mind was working. “The blanket is all right. But nothing else.” Mr. Makowski sounded resigned. “And I think it’s time to leave…” he said sternly but taking care not to command the old man.
“Yes, I think it is time to go.” Grandpa nodded in agreement. “We will be back for her, if not tomorrow…the next day. She’ll have had her vision by then.”
“The next day? I want her out of here today!”
Grandpa looked into the manager’s eyes. “Oh, I don’t think that will happen. She’ll be fine here for another day…or two.” He turned and laid a hand on Denice’s head. He closed his eyes and said a little prayer.
“Okay…it’s time to go, children.”
Chickadee took the old man’s elbow. His walking stick began to tick, tock, tick down the pier.
“I’ll be back tomorrow evening, my girl,” the old man shouted over his shoulder.
The Mighty Muskrats followed Grandpa back around the warehouse. Mr. Makowski and his men followed a little way behind them, making sure they actually left.
The gate clinked closed with a rattle.
With that task done, Grandpa was in the mood for tea. The Muskrats walked him to their Auntie Yvette’s house for some bannock and a visit.
At the end of the driveway, the cousins paused, unsure of what direction to take down the gravel rez road.
“What do you want to do now?” Chickadee asked Sam.
“Well, Grandpa said he doesn’t think the archeologist is where they’re looking.”
“Then how would the boat get there?” Atim picked up a rock and threw it over their aunt’s house.
“It could drift, I suppose.” Sam pinched his chin as he thought.
“Water’s still high from winter melting.” Otter stopped Atim from throwing an even bigger rock over the house.
“Let’s go to the clubhouse.” Samuel had figured out a plan.
“What’s at the clubhouse?” Atim shook Otter’s hand off his arm.
“There’s something I want Chickadee to look up on the computer.” Samuel smiled.
“Cool. Let’s go!” Chickadee said and started running down the road. Her cousins looked at each other and then ran after her.
Chapter 11
Winter’s Shadow
Once in the comfort of their secret place, the kids gravitated to their usual spots. Chickadee turned the computer on. Samuel went to his books, put his feet up on the dash, and opened his current read to the bookmark. Atim sat on his weight bench and picked up a barbell. He flicked the hair out of his eyes. Otter occupied his own chair and began to strum his guitar.
Once the computer was humming, Chickadee gave Sam’s shoulder a push. “So, what do you want me to check out?”
“I don’t know, really.” Samuel sat up.
“What!?” Chickadee feigned anger.
“Well, I want to figure out how that boat could have got there. I figured there must be some kinda info on the Net about…I don’t know.”
“It was a long, snowy winter. The water is still high from the snow melting,” Otter stated as his fingers danced over the guitar strings.
“That would mean the water would sit higher on the delta.” Atim grunted between lifts.
“Doesn’t the mine’s dam have its own website?” Samuel pinched his chin.
“Yeah.” Chickadee’s fingers started typing furiously. “I’ve checked it for Uncle Jacob before he’s gone out fishing.”
“He’d be good to have back. He’s the best tracker in the family.” Atim added weights to the leg press.
“Well…he’s out in the bush. And I don’t think he’d really be worried about some bone-digger!” Samuel chuckled. “What does the website say?”
“It says that the spillway was opened because of the spring runoff and the rainstorm the other night. They’re calling it a ‘rain-on-snow event.’”
“So, the water by the delta would be changing. It would have been high and then dropped.” Sam was getting excited. “That could explain how it looked like the boat was pulled into the delta.”
Atim stopped doing leg lifts and sat up. “Yeah. But what about the rope? It was pulled out like someone tried to drag the boat to shore. If it was pushed there by waves, the rope would be trailing out along the side.”
“First things first. We’ll solve that problem when we get to it,” Sam assured Atim.
His brother mumbled, “We’re there now.”
Sam ignored him and went back to looking over Chickadee’s shoulder. “What are you looking at now?”
She tucked a lock of her raven-black hair behind her ear as she studied the computer.
“I’m trying to figure out…if Dr. Pixton’s boat was blown to the delta, where it was blown from.” Chickadee leaned into her screen intently. “I’m looking back at the day of the storm on the weather website.”
“Great idea.” Sam patted her on the back.
Otter began to play a faster, happier song. His cousins laughed at the musical mood change.
“This website says the wind was blowing southeast that day.” Chickadee smiled brightly as she found the information.
“Okay, that’s wicked!” Sam jumped around the computer table. “Now, just go to that satellite map of the lake. Where would the boat be coming from?”
“The northwest shore, obviously,” Chickadee scoffed. “But what’s over there that an archeologist would be interested in? Here’s the map.”
The Mighty Muskrats gathered around the computer.
“There’re the rock paintings.” Atim pointed.
“And there’s the old winter campsite.” Sam slid his finger over the site and then pulled it back.
“What else is there?” Chickadee asked.
It was quiet in the fort as the kids studied the map.
“There’s the sun dance grounds,” Otter ventured.
“Yeah, I thought that too.” Chickadee nodded.
“Me too,” Atim said but then shook his head. “Why would an archeologist be interested in them?”
“They’re sacred,” Otter whispered.
“Yeah, but new sacred.” Samuel pinched his chin. “Well…it’s a place to start.”
“Do you think this means Uncle Levi is searching the wrong side of the lake?” Otter crossed the bus and leaned his guitar against the opposite wall.
The Case of Windy Lake Page 5
