He’s right. Down south, I learned to fall on my sword before anyone pushed me onto it. Make a mistake, however small? Be the first to mention it or else someone will use it as proof I didn’t deserve my position, like Edwin did. As Dalton has pointed out, such defensive tactics can backfire. Be too quick to say “mea culpa,” and no one misses any mistake, making it seem as if you screw up more often than others.
“Let’s work on this,” he says. “In the future, the correct response is not ‘Oh my God, I screwed up so badly,’ but ‘Hey, Eric, I’ve considered another possibility.’ Save the blame-taking for when I screw up. Then you can have it all.”
“Thank you.” I sip my beer. “What Émilie said about the First Settlement revolt, had you heard anything like that?”
“The version I got was that there’d been some trade trouble shortly after the First Settlement separated, and that’s why we avoided contact. The fact that guns were involved? Two residents killed? Edwin being the asshole who gave them the guns? No, somehow that didn’t get passed along.”
Which is the problem with an oral history in a transient population. If the council wanted to hide the specifics, they only needed to wait ten years or so for the story to fade into half-formed rumor.
“Do we stop dealing with Edwin?” I ask.
“Nah. The council has let him stay in the area. It’s been almost fifty years, and he’s never posed a threat. Hasn’t let his people pose one either. Right now, he’s a nuisance. I won’t put up with that shit. If he searches his settlement for potential perpetrators—and brings any back to us—then we can talk. If he protects them? Whole other situation.”
We drink in silence. Then he says, “Good call, by the way. Putting Edwin and Émilie together.”
I laugh, sputtering a mouthful of beer. “I did not foresee that, let me tell you. I figured they’re roughly of an age, and both mentioned they weren’t Rockton founders but came shortly after. So I thought there was a reasonable chance they knew each other—and with two strong personalities, that they had probably clashed.”
“Oh, they clashed all right. You expected sparks and got fireworks.”
“Yeah, somehow my mental scenarios did not include ‘Edwin and Émilie were friends and idealistic collaborators until Edwin held Émilie’s husband at gunpoint.’” I shake my head. “I always suspected relations with the First Settlement were volatile, but I had no idea. At least they don’t seem to have had trouble with the other settlement.”
“Different time, different reason for leaving. The Second Settlement just wanted to get back to nature. Hippies.”
“And the tea helped, I’m sure,” I say with a chuckle.
“Yeah. The tea definitely would have helped.”
I stop with my bottle halfway to my lips. Then I push to my feet, startling Storm.
“Lightbulb just flashed, didn’t it?” Dalton says.
I set my beer on the railing and head into the station. On the desk is the sample of tea I’d needled Edwin about earlier. We’d gotten it from the Second Settlement, along with the recipe, which we’d re-created and compared to an analysis of the sample to prove it was the same.
The Second Settlement arose during the late hippie era, when a group of Rockton residents decided they wanted to renew their bond with nature. That sounds very New Age—and naive—but they’d had experts in their group, and they’d been a lot like the quartet Maryanne had headed out with. The difference was that there hadn’t been any hostiles to contend with … probably because, if my theory is right, they accidentally spawned the hostiles themselves. Yes, I’m well aware of the irony there—the most peaceful settlement gave birth to the most dangerous people in the forest.
It was the Second Settlement that discovered the tea. I don’t know how. They’d been vague on that. I presumed a botanist in their midst. The percentage of people in Rockton with degrees and advanced degrees far exceeds the general population. Dalton used to joke about that with the nonvictim residents—you’d think being so educated, they’d be less likely to get caught if they commit crimes. After I arrived, he realized it applied to me and stopped joking.
The truth is that the higher your education, the more likely you are to have the networks and the means to get to Rockton. Less likely to have dependents. More likely to have cash flow. Also, let’s be bluntly honest, more likely to have your application accepted. It’s easier to take a former dentist and assign him shop-clerk duty than to take someone in retail and occasionally ask him to perform dental surgery.
So my presumption is that among those early Second Settlement residents was a botanist or a pharmacist or a scientist with an interest in “pharmaceutical recreation.” That’s what’s in this jar on my desk. A natural intoxicant, mixed with dried berries and rose hips. As for what provides the intoxicating effect, I have that information under lock and key, literally. We don’t need residents coming across it and searching the woods for a natural high, especially when they’re more likely to end up brewing a lovely tea of deadly water hemlock. Even knowing the ingredients, it’s the proportions that matter. Whoever created this tea knew what they were doing.
A Second Settlement resident concocts a tea that provides a mild narcotic effect, similar to marijuana. It calms nerves and, well, makes for very happy and peaceful settlers, the stereotype of the hippie with a joint in their mouth. It’s enjoyed the same way we enjoy our beer—at the end of a long day, a much-needed break in the daily grind of survival. A treat, not a staple.
I have a second jar of tea, too. It’s used for rituals, and it produces an added state of mild hallucinations. The Second Settlement reveres nature, and they hold rituals where they imbibe this tea to connect with the elemental spirits. I make no judgment call on that. It is their faith, and like most faiths, it both enhances their lives and, occasionally, impedes them.
Two teas. Two purposes. Both as tightly regulated as our liquor. I’ve seen nothing in the Second Settlement that would lead me to argue against either version. I believe what happened with the hostiles is an unintended consequence, impossible to foresee.
I know from Maryanne that the hostiles also drink two forms of narcotic. The first produces results similar to what the Second Settlement calls their peace tea. The second brew is much more dangerous, heightening awareness and aggression and lowering inhibitions while causing a hallucinatory state similar to LSD.
I’ve shown Maryanne ingredients from both Second Settlement teas. Only the hostiles’ shaman knows the exact ingredients of theirs, but Maryanne was able to confirm these were among the items she was told to gather. She has also sampled the peace tea and confirmed it seems similar to the hostiles’ daily intoxicant brew, though the hostiles’ was far more potent.
I believe, then, that the original hostiles were from the Second Settlement. They leave to pursue their own community. They brew the tea they’re accustomed to and then, well, it’s the age-old question for intoxicants, right? If a 5 percent beer gives me a buzz, what does an 8 percent beer do? An eighty-proof shot of whiskey? A hundred-proof?
I believe human nature led them to experiment, and the result was a drug that made people placid and easy to control. An invaluable bonus for the right leader. Turn your followers into drone workers, contentedly gathering berries and chopping wood all day.
Continue down that experimental path with the Second Settlement’s ritual tea, and eventually you might get something that lowers inhibitions, increases aggression, and induces a hallucinogenic state. Again, the right kind of leader—or, more accurately, the wrong kind—would see true Yukon gold there. Between the two narcotics, the leader and shaman could control their followers, making them both complacent worker bees and the aggressive hunter-warriors that terrified everyone around.
Dalton, Maryanne, and April agree this is the most likely scenario. It makes far more sense than hypothesizing that a group of people in the forest just happened to concoct a narcotic with many of the exact same ingredients as the Second Settlem
ent’s teas.
Where does that take us? Nowhere really. We can’t blame the Second Settlement and ask them to clean up “their” mess. My hypothesis only answers the question of how hostiles were created.
But now, holding a jar of the tea, I have another question.
How was this created? My hypothesis about a botanist or pharmacist or natural-drug enthusiast works, but are there other possibilities? There’s another answer, one only raised now, during our discussion on the back porch.
I look at Dalton as he comes inside. “The last time we spoke to Tomas and Nancy, they said they were going to camp by Lynx Lake when the weather got warmer.”
He nods. The couple had asked our permission, the lake being a few kilometers from Rockton.
“Do you think it’s warm enough for them to be there now?” I ask.
“It is. I’m guessing you want to take a hike?”
“Please.”
TWENTY-TWO
Lynx Lake is an hour’s walk from Rockton. It’s not the same lake where we found Sophie. There are several bodies of water within what we consider easy walking distance, and Lynx Lake has nothing to recommend it over the closer ones. Not unless you’re looking for more privacy or, well, lynx. That doesn’t mean you can expect to see the felines. The Yukon isn’t a zoo. That can be hard for southerners to understand. I’ve seen maybe a dozen lynx since I arrived, and ten of those I would have missed altogether if Dalton hadn’t pointed out a brown shape moving against a brown backdrop.
We walk to the lake and find three tents of varying sizes, along with fish racks and a food-storage system rigged up in the trees. Food left on ground level is a sure way to get an unwanted wildlife sighting, particularly of bears. You especially don’t want to attract them if you have young children, as Nancy and Tomas do.
This afternoon, the kids are up and out. Miles and Becky, ages seven and five, both have their fishing poles in the lake. They’re at the edge where the ice has receded. Tomas is out on the ice itself, fishing through a hole. Nancy sits on a log bench, working her embroidery magic on a new garment. There’s another woman with her, maybe in her early fifties. That gives me pause until I remember Nancy mentioned that her aunt wanted to come with them to help with the kids. To support Nancy and Tomas, I suspect, with the childcare being an excuse.
Nancy and Tomas are breaking away from the Second Settlement. It’s as amicable as a divorce can be, which means that while it’s friendly enough to maintain trade ties, the settlement isn’t exactly thrilled with their decision. The reason for that parting? While we think of the Second Settlement as the more liberal one, it still prohibits homosexual relationships.
At eighteen, Nancy was caught with another girl and forced to marry a man. She chose Tomas over her intended groom. He knew about the girl and decided if he was a good husband, he’d be enough for her. He’s since seen his mistake, but they have children and Nancy loves him. She wants them to be a family, and they’ll work out the rest. Part of working it out is leaving the settlement to spend the summer on their own before deciding their next move.
As we approach, we hail Nancy and her aunt, Josie. The Second Settlement practices communal living, so the “aunt” honorific is given to all women who helped raise you.
Josie is a tall woman, strikingly beautiful, her dark skin glistening with sweat under the strong sun. She’s Dalton’s height and towers over me as she rises. I clasp her hand between mine and bow my head, the proper greeting for an elder. Tyrone Cypher calls the Second Settlement a cult. I wouldn’t go that far. There’s no charismatic leader. No slavish devotion to dogma. To me, they resemble a faith-based back-to-nature commune. I obviously don’t agree with all their customs, but I will grant them the respect of a proper greeting, especially Josie, who has been Nancy’s staunchest supporter.
Dalton goes to join Tomas on the ice, pausing first by the kids to chat. When he leaves, a gesture grants Storm permission to stay with the children, and she does, lapping up their hugs and pets.
“Tomas wants to get them a dog,” Nancy says as I settle in. “I don’t suppose you’re thinking of breeding her.”
“We are, actually. Not this year, though. A litter next spring would be nice. You’re welcome to one if you’re still around.”
She smiles. “Tell the kids that, and we may need to stay.”
She sets aside her needlework and rises to make tea. While I settle on the log, I look out at Dalton and Tomas.
“Is it different now down south?” Josie asks.
When I glance over, she laughs softly. “Oh, I’m sure it’s very different, in very many ways. But you were thinking of our division of labor, weren’t you? The man out fishing while the women sew.”
I try not to look startled. “Actually, yes.”
“Chores are less gender-based down south, I presume. I hope so. It had been changing when I left, but it moves so slowly.” Her bone needle glides through leather. “For myself, this is fine. I would rather sew than fish. It’s good to have choices, though. That is what I want for them.” She nods at the children. “Let Becky choose to sew or fish. Let Miles choose, too. The old ways can be just as hard on the boys, if it is not what they want.”
“True. It’s easy to see what choices the girls lack, but sometimes it’s tougher to see that the boys lack some, too.”
Nancy brings me a cup of tea. It’s regular herbal tea from ingredients found in nature, the bitterness of the brew cut by dried berries. Unlike the hostiles, the Second Settlement doesn’t drink their narcotic brew regularly. This cup does, however, provide the perfect segue into the subject that brought me here.
“We’ve had some potential activity by the wild people,” I say.
I’m about to tell them what has happened when I stop. Tell them seven people are dead? That would be national headline news in Canada. It is shocking in a way I haven’t fully allowed myself to process.
This might be the biggest crime committed in the Yukon since the gold rush. And for these women, still reeling from a single murder in their community, to have me nonchalantly inform them that seven people were attacked nearby just last week?
They need to know about the danger, of course. That’s what Dalton is speaking to Tomas about. I suspect, though, that he’ll also realize the enormity of what he’s saying before he numbers the dead. So I do the same. I tell the women that there was an attack on a group of tourists.
“And you think it is the wild people?” Josie asks.
“It seems to be, but we’re investigating all possibilities. Right now, we’re warning everyone to be careful. We came by today to do that, but also because I have more questions about your ritual tea. I realize I didn’t get enough information the last time I spoke to your settlement about it. Specifically, I’m interested in the person who created the tea.”
“The tea man, hmm?” A smile twitches the corners of Nancy’s mouth. “You don’t know anything about him, do you, Auntie?”
Josie sighs and shakes her head.
“He was a handsome tea man, wasn’t he?” Nancy elbows Josie. “That’s what I heard. Did you hear that, Auntie?”
“Are you done, child? I can wait if you aren’t.”
Nancy’s eyes dance. “I think Josie can tell you a bit about the tea man.”
“I got that impression,” I murmur.
“Yes,” Josie says. “I knew the…” She cuts a look at Nancy. “Tea man. As you can probably guess by Nancy’s tittering, I had a relationship with him. A fling. I’d been in the settlement for a year, and the other men all had wives, so he was a welcome arrival.”
Nancy snickers.
Josie only shakes her head and continues. “It was no great love affair. I was young. He was young enough. When he left a year later, I was sad to see him go, but not heartbroken. I could tell the settlement had only been temporary for him.”
“Did he become a settler?” My mind leapfrogs forward, thinking of my theory.
“No, no. He returned to Rockton
and requested passage south.”
“So he was from Rockton?”
She nods.
“How long had he been there?” I ask.
“A month or two? It didn’t suit him. After a year, he decided this wasn’t quite what he wanted either and went home.”
“That was … okay? With Rockton and your settlement?”
She shrugs. “It was a different time. He wanted to try life out here. Rockton suggested us, and we allowed him in. After he returned, I found a pair of his boots and took them to Rockton, but he’d already left.”
I double-check the times with her, confirming that he’d been in the Yukon for less than his two-year minimum before they allowed him to return down south. Is that significant? Maybe. But also, as she says, it was a different time. Rockton certainly wouldn’t be recommending the settlements to residents now, no more than Josie would feel comfortable walking in with those boots.
“Can you tell me more about how he created the tea?” I ask.
She can and does. He’d spent a lot of time in the forest. He’d often be gone for days, and when he returned, he’d brew teas for himself.
“He was the only one who drank them?” I ask.
“He would allow a few others, after he’d tested the brew. Most of our teas come from him.” She points at the cup in my hand. “Including that one. That’s why he’s known as the tea man. He didn’t just invent the peace and ritual teas.”
He did invent those, though, through a trial-and-error methodology, until he had the right blend with ingredients found close by. There’d been other formulations, according to Josie, but he’d wanted one with easily accessible components.
“Did he have any obvious expertise in botany or medicine?” I ask.
“Hendricks was obviously very well educated.” She gives a gentle smile, dark eyes softening with old affection. “He reminded me of a college professor, and I would worry when he went so far into the bush. But he knew what he was doing, both out there and with his teas.”
A Stranger in Town Page 19
