by John Hansen
The lodge still struck me as an odd-looking, out-of-place monstrosity – all lit up like an airport, floor after floor of Swiss-looking windows and awnings that struck out peculiarly from the dark forest surrounding it.
The staffers already had a large bonfire roaring in the back; and I saw that there were more people around than at the last bonfire. I spotted Cowboy again sitting on his truck bed and providing the music for the evening from the stereo in the truck’s cab. I wondered as I watched him how his summer had gone so far, in contrast to mine… The last bonfire I had gone to at the lodge seemed years ago. The cowboy had a cute redhead sitting next to him, and after staring for a second I recognized that it was Bridget herself. She saw Ronnie and I and waived over to us, and then put an arm around Cowboy, sending an obvious signal to Ronnie. Neither Ronnie nor the Cowboy seemed to notice, however.
Ronnie and I walked with Katie in tow through the margins of the crowd, and we were quickly spotted by Jamie who called us over to a group of people near the fire. I could feel its heat from thirty feet away, and as we sat down with Jamie the fire blasted out steady warmth that made the air further away seem cold and autumn-like in comparison – even in late summer.
I recognized a frantic scratching and muffled acoustic-guitar notes coming from over to my right, and I saw 12-String Boogie still holding court. His guitar chords were drowned out by the Cowboy's stereo, once again. The stereo was blasting Jimmy Buffet.
I felt a poke in my ribs and Katie pointed at Jamie, who I realized had been just speaking to me. Ronnie had his arm around Jamie.
“I'm sorry,” I said, “What'd ya say?” She smiled back at me. Her black hair was lit up in red highlights in the flame light, and her skin had a warm glow, over her rail-thin arms and neck.
“Somebody has got something on his mind…” she said. “But I asked you if you were still thinking of working for the park over the winter.”
Remembering that she could possibly get me a full-time job, and automatically thought about Greg's warnings to leave Montana, about Clayton and Jake, about Browning, and shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe.”
“Well if you want to apply for a desk job, call me and I fill out some stuff for you.”
I nodded. “Thanks. That’s nice of you to even remember I was looking for something.”
She reached over and held Ronnie’s hand, “No problem. It’ll be nice to have someone cool to work with over the winter, finally.”
Ronnie was watching me, and then said, “You couldn't pay me enough to stay here past September.” He looked past us over the crowd and then suddenly stood up. “I gotta get a drink. Anybody want one?” He stomped off before anyone put in their orders, and I looked at Jamie who just stared over at the fire with a blank expression.
“Don’t mind him,” Katie piped up from behind me. “He's been getting more ‘Ronnie-like every day.”
“I don't know how you guys live with him,” Jamie said with a smirk.
“I don’t even seem him much anymore,” I said without even thinking about it, but suddenly I realized how strange it was that people could avoid each other so successfully in a small, remote log cabin.
Jamie went off to get us some beers and Katie scooted up next to me and reached over to hold my hand.
“Will, I never thanked you for being a gentleman that night,” she said. “You know, in your room. You coulda had your way with me, I suppose.”
“Maybe we did it…” I smiled at her, “In your state you probably wouldn’t remember either way.”
She punched my shoulder playfully, and then grew serious. “You’re a good friend, Will Benton. You really are. It’s rare to meet a man you can trust.”
I was wondering how trustworthy I was, when I looked out over the crowd and suddenly recognized Clayton and Jack and my heart stopped involuntarily for a fraction of a second. I saw Ronnie was with them, talking to Clayton, and I felt a cold sense of dread, remembering Greg’s dire warning. The three of them stood on the outskirts of the crowd, just like before; and I could barely see them in the dim, flicking fire light. And it was hard to be sure with his mirror finish glasses but it looked like Jake was staring directly at me.
Someone suddenly sat down next to me and I turned and saw Sky, of all people. She was looking over at the three of them too, and then looked back at me. She glanced at Katie and then then leaned in close to me, her brown hair was up in a bun and she had on a leather necklace like the one around my wrist. She was wearing a white t shirt that glowed in the fire light as she sat scooted up close.
“We need to talk Will,” she said in a flat tone. Her eyes were clear and her gaze was direct, she wasn’t drunk, but she was definitely different. “You have made yourself some trouble.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” I leaned forward and picked up a twig, flicking it over into the fire. “So why do you say that?”
“Just come with me for a minute,” she said. Without waiting for an answer she stood up and grabbed my hand, pulling me up. Katie looked at us with irritation at being left alone but I just shrugged and followed Sky as she dragged me through the crowd, in the opposite direction from the fire and Clayton.
I looked over at Clayton’s side again but they were lost behind the bonfire, which blocked my view. Jimmy Buffet had turned into John Denver, and it made me think of my arrival at the store, that early afternoon standing in front of store with a guitar in one hand a suitcase in the other, having no idea about the place at which I had just arrived. How things have changed, I thought to myself… now I knew way too much.
Sky led me over to a dark corner of the clearing where there was a smaller, unoccupied fire pit with a couple of wooden benches, far enough from the group to not be seen. She sat down close to me.
“I wanted to tell you that there are some people in Browning out to get you, some in the tribe.” she said in a quiet tone.
“Old news,” I said with a frown.
She took out a pack of Marlboro Lights from her back pocket and pulled one out, offering the pack to me.
“I didn't know you smoke,” I said, as I shook my head to her offer. “You don’t seem like the type.”
“When I’m stressed,” she said.
I nodded and looked back over to the fire. “A lot of that going around. So what do you have to be stressed about?”
“It’s not Clayton,” she said quickly, blowing a thick cloud of smoke out in front of her. “I know what that ranger friend of yours thinks – what the cops think; but they’re wrong.”
“How do you know what Greg or the cops think?”
She smiled at me. “Because Dee, Greg’s wife, is my cousin.”
Another surprise… Then again why did it matter? Another unexpected connection to Clayton and Jake, but to what end? I didn't say anything for a moment but looked into Sky’s eyes, trying to see what she was feeling. Did she really care about me or any of this? And if so, why? Why was she out there in the middle of the night?
“Clayton is not the problem,” she continued. “Everyone thinks he’s picked up the drug business where his father left off, but nothing could be further from the truth. He’s working hard to reclaim the family honor.”
I tried to find deception in her tone, in her eyes, but she was a hard read. “And Jake?” I asked. “Is he working hard too?”
She looked at me with suspicion. “Jake is.... going his own way.” She flicked ash off the end of her cigarette and shook her head, her bun shaking on top of her head. “He’s complicated. But Clayton is looking out for you, Will.” She reached for my hand again. “He told me that some of his father's old drug people, some of the bad crowd around here, is looking to get you – or get rid of you somehow. They say you are stirring up things because of Alia’s murder.”
“I’ve heard this part already too. But things don’t seem too stirred to me....” I picked the cigarette from her hand and took a long drag. “What I don’t get is why they give a shit about so
me guy working at a camp store for tourists, wandering around asking a couple of questions in Browning. How does any of that effect some big drug operation? I can’t put any of it together…”
“It’s because some think you have stirred up the cops in Browning, bringing more heat. Some think you killed a member of the tribe – Alia.” She shrugged. “And some think that there’s someone at Two Med working with the cops as an informant… It’s crazy, Will – it’s Browning, it’s the Blackfoot.”
I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Did Clayton tell his father’s old buddies they got the wrong guy?”
She nodded and took the cigarette back.
“So what am I supposed to do with all this helpful information?” I asked.
“Maybe you should just go… Move back to.... where are you from again?”
I didn’t answer, but reached over for her cigarette and took a long drag. I could taste a sweetness from the lip gloss she wore that rubbed off on the filter. The smoke filled my lungs, which were unused to the poison, and it made me feel a burning sensation. She glanced at me as I blew out the smoke, and then took the cigarette back.
Blowing out that heavy smoke I suddenly was tired of the whole place: Clayton, Jake, drugs, cops, all the warnings, all the bullshit. It really did make me want to pack it all up that night and catch a jammer bus to the train station. The entire business of working the store and avoiding being killed by Indians and drug dealers all seemed suddenly so outrageous, depressing and... senseless. I looked at Sky and wondered, yet again, if she could even be trusted. I needed to know more about her.
“So how did you get the name ‘Sky’?”
She didn’t hesitate in answering. “The same way you got ‘Will’ – my parents.”
“What’s it mean, though?”
“It means,’ she said, taking a last drag on the cigarette, “that blue thing above you during the day.” She crushed out the cigarette under her foot.
“I actually wrote a poem about it, a long time ago; and I still remember part of it.” She stared off at the fire in the distance, watching the other staffers milling around.
“I am like the sky: in a way, close, but in a way distant and untouchable. I am like the sky: always changing but always the same. I am like the sky: you cannot touch me but I am always here in front of you. I am like the sky: I can bring death, yet I protect you constantly. I am like the sky: I don’t exist without you.”
“A riddle?” I asked.
She shook her head, her bun of hair flopping around on top of her head. “A poem.”
“Which of those describes you? Distant and untouchable? Dangerous or protecting?” I asked.
“Tonight I’m protecting,” she said, looking at me with a frown. “Tomorrow, I’ll be dangerous.” She abruptly turned and walked off towards the bonfire.
Had I offended her? Maybe I had dismissed her warnings too casually; but she could have no idea that I had already been shocked enough into numbness at this point, at least for that night.
I began to walk back towards the fire to find Katie and Ronnie. Ronnie… a major concern for me now, and not just because of his association with Clayton. I knew he had gotten wrapped up in some drug deal and I didn’t know how dangerous he may become. It seemed crazy to me to suspect someone who had become a good friend so quickly; and I felt like there were two Ronnie’s at Two Med.
In any event, I had detected a definite, albeit slight, menace coming from him; and I knew he had been drawing away from me, from Katie, and from Two Med. As I walked back I thought about our early friendship, or so it had seemed; and it made me sad that I now had to be wary of hanging around with him. For all his craziness, I still liked him.
How quickly, in the blink of an eye, can friend become enemies.
I gathered up Katie and the told Ronnie we should be heading back. He had joined Jamie at some point during my little meeting with Sky, and I didn’t see Clayton or Mirror-Finish Jake anywhere. We eventually got back into his car, and on the drive back Katie piped up from the back seat and asked Ronnie why he seemed so moody.
Ronnie was smoking a cigarette and just shrugged at the question. After a moment, Katie looked over at me and asked, “So who was that girl you went off with tonight?”
I looked at Ronnie; his eyes didn’t move from the road. Not a good subject at this moment, Katie, I thought.
“That was Sky,” I said to Ronnie as much as Katie. “She was just asking about Alia.”
Ronnie still didn’t look over, but he shook his head.
Katie caught his gesture. “Why do you shake your head at that?”
I looked back at her and gave her a warning expression, which I realized probably confused her all the more.
“Why can’t you just stay away from them?” Ronnie asked, staring ahead at the road. “What is this fascination you have with getting involved?”
Katie didn’t say anything and I looked at Ronnie but didn’t answer.
Ronnie spat out the window. “You have no idea what you’re getting into in Browning, my man. I’ve already told you – watch your ass.”
“Well,” I said, feeling a tired anger welling up, “why don’t tell what the fuck is going on, then? Either tell me what’s going on in Browning that I should stay away from, or shut the fuck up about it.”
He didn’t respond but just shook his head slowly again.
Katie sat back in her seat and looked out her side window and said quietly. “That name fits her… ‘Sky.’”
I looked out my own window and tried to figure Ronnie’s involvement in the drugs, and wondered if he know anything about Alia’s death. To ask him point blank would be useless, I knew. I couldn’t wait to get out of that car.
When I got back to my room, I saw an envelope on my bed. I picked it up and saw no addresses written on the front of it. Opening it I pulled out a one page letter, and something metal fell out. It was actually two metal things – they were the earrings that Alia wore, the little, metal earrings she had on when I kissed her. I held them in the palm of my hand, not believing what I was seeing for a moment.
I looked at the letter and saw just two words had been written, scrawled in heavy, dark all capitals: “LEAVE NOW.”
I set the earrings carefully down on my bedside table, and stared back at the words on the page. I imagined Jake’s hand etching the characters, in drunken anger and desperation. He had killed Alia and stolen her earrings, using them now as a muted warning for me to get out of town.
I lay in the bed and cupped the earrings again in my hand, imagining them back on her lobes, dangling over the curve of her neck. I hoped again that she did not suffer fear or pain when she died – but I knew it was likely she had. I gripped the earrings and felt a resurgence of stubborn determination to go to the powwow and confront my enemies.
Thirty-Six
Saturday, the day of the infamous powwow, finally arrived, and it dawned cloudy and cold. Steel grey clouds blanketed the sky and a misty fog lay on the surface of the lake, hiding all but a few feet from the shore. I worked that morning on the gift shop side but had arranged the afternoon off to go to the event. By two p.m., when the powwow officially started, I was outside the store, waiting for Greg to swing by and pick me up.
In addition to not wearing a uniform, I had persuaded him to drive over in his Dee’s minivan, and not use the ranger truck which obviously would be unwelcome among the Blackfoot at their sacred, member’s-only powwow.
I got into the minivan when Greg pulled up and as we drove off I looked back at the store.
“Mornin,” Greg said, with a subdued tone. He looked over at the store. “So how are things in there?”
“Things are a bit different in there,” I said.
I thought it over for a moment. “When I started there it was like a family, all of us getting along and working and living together. But now, near the last few weeks of the season, all of us are changed, barely speak to each other… there’s a coldness between us.
”
“So, just like a real family…” Greg said, smiling at me.
“I guess so, now that you mention it.”
Greg rolled down the window of the van and stuck his elbow out, settling deeper into his seat. I gave him a sidelong glance. I wondered again why he was bothering going with me. Wanting to play the cop? Or honestly concerned for my welfare? I knew he thought of me as a friend, and genuinely didn’t want to see me get hurt I was pretty sure, but I remembered also about how he had basically admitted that his getting involved in Alia’s murder was finally a chance to do something important, something real, with a job he was clearly frustrated with.
Maybe it was all just a way to make up for a career of showing campers and staff his bear bells and pepper spray, and a job that had him ripping parking tickets and checking fishing licenses.
I thought about the warning letter I had gotten, which I had left on the table beside my bed, and figured I would turn it into Olsterman – maybe they could finger print it. But then my prints were on it too so what would it prove? And would they even bother? What I needed was some real evidence, something that tied Jake to the scene, something inarguable. But what?
I decided not to mention it to Greg, not yet at least – he was worried enough as it was.
In any event, I certainly was feeling nervous as we drove closer to the Gather area, and I was glad, no matter the reasons, that he had in fact decided to come with me, to face whatever it was I was heading towards.
We drove up to the large clearing where the Blackfoot powwow was being held. It was a place as large as about three football fields, and metal bleachers had been set up on one side. The rest of the area was grassy patches with little booths and tents set up. A large crowd had already gathered, and we parked the minivan among lots of other cars, campers and motorcycles. The afternoon sun had earlier tried to peek through the cottony-grey blanket of clouds, but without success, and the sun was now hiding in defeat.
