"Maybe you should learn how to open doors. You think?"
Mutt blinked at her, motionless, endlessly patient. When all the glass was out Kate muscled the brunette upstairs and shoved her down on the couch next to her husband, who sat numbly with his elbows on his knees, hands dangling over his mustard-yellow, silver-toed cowboy boots. She found some rubbing alcohol in the medicine cabinet of the bathroom and swabbed Mutt's nose with a washcloth soaked in the stuff. Mutt flinched but stood it. Afterward, she unearthed a clean dishcloth to tie around her wounded arm. It was only a graze, although it stung like fire, and she winced, pulling the cloth tight.
"What about her?" King roused himself enough to say, jerking his head at his wife, who rocked back and forth next to him, holding her wrist and moaning.
"What about her?" Kate said without looking at them. While they waited for the police and the ambulance, Kate used John King's phone to call Spiegel's 800 number and order Jane a king-size brass bed.
ELEVEN.
FRIDAY WAS THE NEXT TO THE LAST DAY OF THE CONVENtion, so that everyone with jobs they couldn't get out of came anyway and brought their families with them. They had just broken for lunch and the hum of conversation had taken on the shape and size of a roar. A man with a television camera surgically attached to his shoulder made a slow path through the crowd, moving from one face to another, lingering on the faces of the elders.
Kate spotted Axenia talking hard to a middle-aged man who looked like one of Grandma Kvasnikof's many grandsons from Cordova. Jerry? Terry?
Cy, that was it. Axenia's back was to her as she walked up, and she heard her cousin say, "Yes. We estimate three hundred thousand board feet per year for the first five years, selective cutting, of course, and with buffer belts along the creeks to prevent erosion. And shipping is no problem, the Katalla is navigable all the way up to Iqaluk. And the lagoon at the mouth of the river will make a natural log boom. Plus, there are already bunkhouses in place from the old Katalla oilfield days. What? Well, of course, they'll have to be renovated and brought up to speed, but the cost is negligible next to starting from scratch.
There is no down side to this project, and we'll be using local timber to make lumber for local construction. I--" Kate grasped Axenia's arm firmly above the elbow and smiled at the man. "Hello, Cy. I'm terribly sorry, I need to borrow my cousin for a moment. Will you excuse us?" Her smile widened with deliberate charm and he wilted and effaced himself.
Axenia tried to pull free without attracting attention. "Let me go, Kate."
"Nope." Kate pulled her through the door and out onto the sidewalk.
"Come on."
"Where are we going? Dammit, you're hurting me! Let me go!"
Kate looked up Fifth, estimated the chances of making it across the street to the Town Square Park before the traffic thundering through the light at B caught them, and jerked. To keep from falling Axenia had to go with her. They made it across with feet to spare (it helped with Mutt nipping at Axenia's heels) and Kate led the way up one of the paved paths and found a seat on the edge of the fountain, now turned off. She slammed Axenia down on it hard enough to crack her tailbone.
"Ouch!" Tears sprang to Axenia's eyes, which made her look very young and vulnerable but not young and vulnerable enough to rouse any of Kate's protective instincts. When Axenia saw the lack of effect, she sucked her tears back up into her eyeballs and demanded, "What's wrong with you? I've got people to talk to in there!"
She half rose to her feet before Kate slammed her down again. "How much did you know about Iqaluk?"
"What? Iqaluk?" Axenia's angry bewilderment seemed genuine, but then she'd had two years in Anchorage to practice, not to mention an apprenticeship with Lew Mathisen. "We're lobbying to make it a national forest so we can lease the timber rights and use it for construction projects for the association. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing," Kate said grimly, "if that was all it was." She searched Axenia's face for signs of knowledge of the seismic tests, the exploration wells, and found only bewilderment. Honest or assumed? Would she ever know? Did she want to know the answer badly enough to ask?
"What are you talking about?" Axenia looked at Kate's face, really looked at it for the first time, and said, less certainly, "Well? What is wrong with it?" The dishcloth caught her eye. The blood stains had dried to a ruddy brown. She paled, reaching out a finger to almost touch it, drawing back when Kate flinched away. "Kate, what's that? What happened? Are you hurt?" "Never mind," Kate said. "Is that story you just told me what you got from Lew Mathisen?" Axenia didn't answer.
"When did you two start dating?"
"None of your damn business."
Kate leaned down and snarled in Axenia's face, "It is if it's adversely affecting emaa in some way, and trust me, Axenia, it is."
Axenia swallowed and looked away. There was a long pause. When she spoke her voice was muffled. "Almost a year ago. Last December. We met at the CIRI Christmas party."
Well after the time Billy Mike turned John King loose on tribal grounds with a seismic truck, and right around the time Axenia went to work for the federal government. En akenty had signed his lease on December 1, Kate remembered. A lot of things, none of them good, had happened in December.
"Did Mathisen come after you, Axenia?" Another pause, then a nod.
Dischner, Kate thought. She'd bet her last dime that Mathisen dating Axenia had been Dischner's idea. She couldn't quite bring herself to say so, though, and knew a fleeting regret that she hadn't turned Mutt loose on old Eddie P. He had hurt her family in so many ways, the toll mounting hourly. She said, "Lew's using you, Axenia. He's using you for your place in Niniltna and for your job with the Forest Service. He's been in hog heaven this last year, with inside information coming at him two ways through one source. At work you must have heard about Iqaluk going public almost the same time emaa did through the Association lawyer. He couldn't afford not to romance you."
"I don't believe you."
"Axenia, listen. He's a member of the board of UCo. You know all those construction projects UCo has with Raven and Niniltna? They were approved and signed off by either Harvey Meganack or Billy Mike. One was signed off by Enakenty last December, probably the same day he moved into that condo that cost a third of what it should in rent. It was a fee, Axenia. Just like Harvey's house and his watch and Billy's campaign financing."
Axenia's chin went up. "He asked me to marry him."
Kate looked at her.
"I said yes."
Kate looked at her.
Axenia's voice rose. "And you can't stop me!" Kate looked at her and said in a silken voice, "Was marriage your fee, Axenia?"
Axenia hit her, open hand against Kate's cheek, with all the strength of her arm behind it. The crack of skin on skin echoed off the sides of the Performing Arts Center.
Eyes full of tears, Axenia ran back to the convention center.
Kate sat down suddenly on the stone bench. Mutt leapt up on the bench, too, and nosed at her with a bruised and battered snout. "It's all right, girl," Kate said, putting her arm around Mutt's shoulders and leaning into the solid, furry warmth. "It's all right."
Mutt was unconvinced, and the words sounded false to her own ears.
The clouds crowded the sky now, thick and white and full. The smokers standing around outside the Egan Center weren't even zipping their coats. Kate went inside and was immediately pounced on by Olga Shapsnikoff. "Kate, where have you been? You missed Paul Anahonak's talk on sovereignty. I thought we were going to go out and stone somebody, preferably a state legislator." She grinned. "Speaking of great public speakers, people have been asking about you ever since your speech yesterday."
"It wasn't a speech," Kate said. "All I did was tell a story."
"We should all be able to tell such stories. Come meet some of my family." She paused. "Kate? Are you all right? You look a little pale.
Except for your cheek, how come it's all red?" She saw the napkin. "And what's wrong w
ith your arm, is that blood?"
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Olga looked her over critically. "You look like you need a cup of coffee. Come on, I'll get you one."
Kate summoned up a smile. "What I really need is to talk to my grandmother. Have you seen her around?"
Olga nodded. "Yeah, I saw her with Cindy Sovalik a while ago. Or no, that was before lunch, I think."
Kate's stomach reminded her it hadn't had breakfast yet, let alone lunch. "Where?"
"Downstairs, at Cindy's booth."
"Okay, I'll go take a look. See you later."
"You had lunch?"
"Later," Kate called, and escaped.
Downstairs Ekaterina was nowhere to be found. Kate stood on a chair in one corner of the room and searched in vain for the square-shaped figure with the tight black bun.
"Kate."
The voice came from below and she looked down. "You are looking for your grandmother," Cindy said. She was wearing one of her kuspuks today, made of sky blue corduroy and trimmed with silver rickrack and silver fox.
Her eyes flicked to Kate's cheek, the makeshift bandage on the younger woman's arm and away again.
"Yes, I am," Kate said, stepping down. "Olga said she saw her down here with you. Where is she?"
"She is at the hotel."
Kate frowned at the note in Cindy's voice. Before she could speak Cindy said, "You have found out what is wrong."
Kate gave her a sharp look which Cindy endured without any expression on her broad, impassive face. "How would you know anything was wrong?"
Cindy shrugged. Kate smiled. "
"There is danger here?"
" she suggested.
Cindy's face didn't change. "Not that kind."
Kate's smile faded. "What do you mean?" Cindy held out a hand. It was dry to the touch, the bone and sinew beneath hard and strong. A chill rippled over Kate's skin. The two women stood motionless and silent as around them conversation rose and fell, goods were traded and bought, newborn babies exclaimed over, teenagers' basketball records bragged about, family news good and bad exchanged. Kate saw no one and nothing but Cindy Sovalik.
Cindy let go of her hand and returned to her table without a backward glance.
Kate turned on her heel and walked to the escalator, threading her way through the crowd without stopping, not responding to the greetings called her way.
Kate knocked on Ekaterina's door. There was no answer. She knocked again. Still no answer.
A short, rotund woman in a maid's uniform said in a thick accent, "Is there something I help you with, ma'am?"
Kate nodded at the door. "It's my grandmother's room. She should be here, but she's not answering the door. Do you have a passkey?" The maid looked doubtful. "Please," Kate said. "Open the door. You can stand right here while I go in."
Something in Kate's anxious face must have convinced her. The maid produced the passkey and opened the door. Kate pushed it open. "Emaa?"
There was no answer. She stepped inside. "Emaa? Are you in here?" She walked down the little hall that led past the bathroom and the closet.
The drapes were closed, the thin afternoon light seeping into the room beneath the hems.
There were two queen-size beds, one littered with Ekaterina's suitcase and various items of clothes. The bedspread had been drawn back from the other, both pillows pushed to the floor, and Ekaterina's form lay still beneath the blanket.
"Emaa? Wake up." Kate walked to the window and pulled the drapes, talking feverishly. "I haven't had lunch yet, have you? What say we head for the Lucky Wishbone, get us some fried chicken. You haven't been yet, this trip, have you?" There was no answer. Kate walked to the bed and bent over. "Emaa?" Ekaterina was lying on her back, still and silent.
"Emaa," Kate said, her voice sounding in her own ears as if it were coming from a great distance. "Emaa?"
Ekaterina's shoulder was still and cool. Her eyes were closed, her face unsmiling, stern even in death. The winter light filled in the wrinkles that outlined mouth and eyes, glanced off the firm chin, picked out the dark eyelashes that lay like fans on her cheeks.
"Emaa," Kate said again. She felt her throat swell, swallowed hard against the rise of tears. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in the bedspread. "Emaa."
"Ay del que," the maid said. There was a rustle of clothing as she crossed herself.
Outside the window large flakes of snow began to fall, like wisps of cotton, soft and thick.
Saturday morning the city lay silent and still beneath a soft, thick cover of white, the hush broken only by the scrape of shovels on sidewalks, the chatter of red-cheeked children building snowmen, the occasional rumble of a grader down a side street. The hush crept even into the Egan Convention Center, where people stood in groups of four and five, speaking in low voices.
Kate walked in at noon, alone, as the King Island Dancers took to the stage. The drums sounded. It was a dance of remembrance, marking the passage of milestones, and seasons, and of loved ones. There was no applause at the end, only a deep, expectant silence. It was traditional dress day, and every other person there wore tunic and leggings, button blankets, kuspuks and mukluks.
The outgoing chairman took the podium one last time to name the incoming chairman, and the incoming chairman took his place. He thanked the outgoing chairman for his service to his community, thanked the members for the honor of being named the new chairman, and promised to work hard at resolving the problems of subsistence and sovereignty. There was brief, polite applause. He shuffled the pages of his acceptance speech together, waiting for it to end. "As most of you know by now, the Alaska Native community has suffered an enormous loss. Ekaterina Moonin Shugak died yesterday."
There were exclamations from the few who had not known. Heads turned toward Kate, a hand touched her shoulder. Axenia stood a few feet away, her eyes swollen and blotched with tears. Lew Mathisen stood at her side, clutching her hand, his thin face self-conscious. Kate continued to stare straight ahead.
"At this point, I will cede the floor to Harvey Meganack, a fellow board member of the Niniltna Native Association, who has agreed to speak in memory of Ekaterina."
Harvey's stocky figure climbed the stairs to the stage. The new chairman stood back and let him take the podium. He cleared his throat. His voice was hoarse but controlled. He spoke of Ekaterina's life, of how her family had been forced out of their home in the Aleutians during the Japanese occupation of Attu and Kiska, of their arrival in Niniltna to stay with distant relatives, of how when the war ended they decided to make the Park their home. He spoke of her husband and his death at sea, of her five children, and how every parent's nightmare of surviving their own children had come true for Ekaterina, and of her strength in surviving their deaths. He spoke of Ekaterina's work with Elizabeth Peratrovich and the Alaska Native Sisterhood in seeking Native rights.
He reminded everyone in the room that but for their efforts and the efforts of many more like them, Alaska Natives' ability to become Alaskan citizens might still hinge upon the condition that they gave up their tribal ways for a "civilized" lifestyle. He said the words simply, telling a story, not inciting to riot, and they listened to him in silence.
He spoke of Ekaterina's work in helping the Alaska Federation of Natives negotiate the crucial loans from the village of Tyonek and the Yakima Indian Nation, which together funded the final push to congressional passage of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act in 1971. He spoke of her tireless efforts in helping the tribes and villages adapt to that act, of her own chairmanship of an immensely successful AFN convention in the mid-eighties, of her terms as Niniltna's tribal chief, of her seat on the Raven Corporation's board of directors, of her sponsorship of the sobriety movement.
Stabenow, Dana - Shugak 06 - Blood Will Tell Page 26
