River

By Dawn Natelle

Be aware that I am notorious for gaps of many weeks between the parts of my stories. This one was sitting for months, before I decided to post it. I will produce at least one other chapter this week, and post it before next weekend. After that ... well, it will depend on whether you guys can encourage me to continue.

The main character in the story is not a person, but a river. There is also a few human characters running around ... otherwise the story might soon become boring. We also have animals in the story, but sorry Furries, none of them are anthropomorphized. Our main human is a young student about to enter high school.

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"Are we there yet," 14-year-old Ricky Waters moaned for at least the fiftieth time this morning. But finally the answer wasn't "No, not yet," but "almost" as his father slowed to pull down a side road toward the mountains. "Mangadetigweyaa Nature Preserve" was printed on a sign by the entry way.

The place had been a provincial park when Ricky's dad was a boy, and he had come camping here every summer during the 1980s. He had decided that, with Ricky going into high school next year, this might be the only chance to let his family enjoy what had then been St. Mary's River Provincial Park. They hadn't come earlier because the Park had been taken over in a First Nations land claims protest, and until seven years ago the band had not allowed camping. Now they were developing it back into a First Nations-owned business venture, providing employment to band members and others.

Mark and Paul, in the back seat, looked up from their Game Boys at the sign, and then went back to the game. Mark was Ricky’s ten-year-old brother, and Paul was his best friend. His parents had told each of their boys that they could invite a friend to the week-long trip. Mark had picked Paul, his best friend. Ricky’s best friend was Lisa Stromen, and he was told that she did not qualify. So in protest he decided not to invite anyone. Not that there were any boys that he considered friends in his school in the city. So he was doomed to spend a week bored out in the wilderness, with no television, no computers, no Internet, and no cell phone coverage.

So this morning they got up at 4 a.m., and Dad started driving north from Toronto. It was nearly noon now, and they were deep in the Canadian Shield, miles from civilization. Ricky had slept for several hours in the early dark, and only woke up when his parents switched driving positions as the sun rose. He was dismayed to find they weren’t even half way there, and had been moaning pretty much the rest of the way, unable to get back to sleep.

“Oh look, there is a covered bridge,” Mom squealed. She was back in the shotgun position. “So cute.”
It was kinda cute, but Ricky had learned long ago that calling things cute was not considered manly. So he just mumbled. Then, as they rode over the bridge, he felt a strange sensation. It was like when you go over a too-steep hill, too-fast, but not. “Whoa, did you feel that,” he said.

“Feel what,” Mom asked.

“Feel that … I dunno, it was like a funny feeling in my stomach as we went over that bridge.”

“No,” Dad said. “My eyes kinda went funny going into the dark, and then back out into the sun.”

“No, I got that too,” Ricky said. “This was different. Must have just been me.”

They drove on another mile or two off the highway until they came to the park office. Dad went in and did the paperwork, and probably paid too. It was for nine days … Ricky had no idea how much that would cost. His Dad had a week off, but Mom had two weeks off from her job as a bank financial advisor, so they decided that at the end of the week they would decide if they would stay for a second week. Dad wanted that, but he only had one week off before he had to get back to his job as a construction manager. While in the office Dad also bought a couple bundles of firewood, and dumped it in the back of the mini-van, on top of all the other stuff packed there.

He handed Mom a map with the campsite circled, and she directed him through the maze of roads and trails until they got to 483 Moose Drive, the empty site. It was a ways in … the sites near the office had power, water, and sometime sewage outlets, and most had expensive-looking trailers parked on them. At the back it was campers only, or only tents, which is all we had. That is how Dad did it in the old days, so that was how we were going to do it. Sheesh.

As soon as the van stopped, Mark and Paul shot out of the van and started running off. Mom yelled that they had to unpack, but that didn’t do anything, so guess who had to unpack. And help Dad with the tents. Ricky suggested that they leave the boys’ tent for them to put up, but in the end they set up all three tents. The big one was for Mom and Dad, and cooking and eating in if it rained. There were two smaller pup tents for Ricky and the boys. Ricky managed to cop the best spot on the site, away from the big tent. Mark’s tent was right next to his parents.

Once the big tent was up, Dad set up the propane grill. Not one of the big ones like you have in your backyard, but a little green thing that folded out. Mom used it to boil water for coffee, which Dad was crying for. Guess who had to walk five sites down towards the road to get water. Ricky was not very big for his age, and definitely not muscular, so carting back the heavy water was a chore. Wasn’t this supposed to be a vacation? He knew this was going to be his chore … the little boys would get out of it even though the two of them could probably carry as much as he could.

It was two when they had everything set up. Mom had made sandwiches from stuff she had packed in the coolers, and the wild boys finally came back. Their explorations were not a total waste … they told where the washrooms were, with attached communal showers, oh joy. They had also found a trail to the river, which alarmed Mom. She immediately told them they weren’t to go back there alone. Dad just sighed something about ‘boys being boys’, which led to Mom glaring at him.

They ate the sandwiches with gusto. It was the first food since they had eaten sandwiches Mom made the night before. That was pretty early in out trip, and Dad had refused to stop for lunch so he could “make good time” so they ate in the car. Not that there were many places to stop.

They were way out of the city by the time the sun came up, and for the last few hours had only passed dinky little towns with only a few houses. The family only stopped when for gas, and everybody had to take bathroom breaks at the same time. Most of the places had little restaurants attached. Not MacDonald’s or Burger King, but little sit-down places with ladies in orange dresses to take your order. There was usually a store attached, and where Mom got snacks for us to nibble on in the car.

Dad bragged that the sandwiches tasted better because of the outdoors, but Ricky just figured it was because everyone was so hungry for real food.

Even after the late lunch there was a ton of work to do. More water to get, and Dad had to show the boys how to build a proper fire, which was kinda cool. You build a tiny little one with splinters, and then add bigger and bigger bits until you can put the full size chunks of wood on the fire. The little boys were given the chore of finding firewood. Dad said the park rangers said you can only use dead wood, or the stuff they sell at the gate. No cutting live trees. After an hour the boys had gathered like, five sticks, so Ricky went out and found about twice as much in 15 minutes, which got him kudos from Dad, which was nice. Ricky was not often complimented by his father.

It was nearly six when they had everything set up. The fire was built, but not lit. Mom decided that they would take a walk as a family around the park to get an idea where everything was. The boys took off like banshees, while Ricky walked in front of his parents, who held hands as they walked. Yuck.

They found the washrooms, which had real toilets … Dad had told stories of having outhouses in the old days. There was one for women, which Mom said was acceptable, and one for men. Same with the showers attached to each building. The men’s’ shower was just a big room with about 6 shower positions, and no walls between, which Mom said the ladies had. Ricky wondered if it would be possible to go the entire week without showering. He was a bit shy about his scrawny body, which still hadn’t reacted to any hints of puberty.

At the end of Moose Drive they came across a big lot with a lot of tents on it, and a small cabin. The cabin had a sign reading “Ranger” and the tent area had one that said “Junior Rangers”. There were a lot of people Ricky’s age in the smaller tents, both boys and girls. Some of the girls were pretty cute, he decided, not that he would ever get up the nerve to talk to them. Mom did notice the kids were his age, and suggested that he might make friends here. Ricky just rolled his eyes … not in a million years. He couldn’t make friends, except for Lisa, back home with kids he knew for years … and here he was going to do it in a few days. Not.

They were getting hungry when they got back to the camp, so Dad had Ricky light the fire. It took a few tries, and they finally had to use a newspaper under the kindling, which Dad said was cheating, but it did get the fire going. Soon they had a good fire, and Dad said that all they had to do was wait for it to get embers going before roasting the wieners. The problem was, everyone was hungry. So they got the cook sticks out, stuck the wieners on, and then put them into the fire. Or tried to. The heat coming off the fire was too much, so you had to hold your stick in for as long as you could manage it, then pull back and cool off your hand.

Ricky was less than impressed at this method of cooking. For one thing, if you left the wiener in for too long, it turned black. Ricky was not going to eat a burnt wiener. That went onto a plate for Dad, who didn’t care, or at least he pretended not to. His second try was better, and Ricky managed to get one cooked that was fine on one side, and just started to darken on the other. He decided to eat it. He had to agree with Dad ... they did taste better than boiled wieners, even if the stove was a more civilized place to make food.

Ricky only ate one hotdog. The younger boys and Mom had two each, and Dad ate three … one he cooked and two burnt ones. Mark didn’t mind black wieners, but Paul was like Ricky and had burnt his first attempt too. Ricky filled up on his Mom’s potato salad, and especially her Deviled Eggs, which were his favourite.

Everyone was full, and then Mom brought out marshmallows. These were big ones, not the little ones you put in cocoa. You could stick one on the end of the cooking stick, and poke it in the fire. You had to be careful, because they could catch fire. Mark turned out to like them that way, and ate the ones that Paul and Ricky burned. After a few plain ones, Mom brought out some more stuff. You got two graham crackers and put Nutella on them. Then, when you got your marshmallow hot you squeezed it between the crackers and had a gooey snack that Mom called Smores. Even if the marshmallow had caught fire it was still pretty good in a Smore.

After that, Dad told some silly ghost stories, even though it was still light. Then the younger boys were sent to their sleeping bags. Ricky was allowed to stay up later, but he went to his tent a half hour later. He was tired, after everything in the day, plus Mom had crawled onto Dad’s lap and Ricky certainly didn’t want to stick around for that. He fell asleep quickly.

It had been light when Ricky fell asleep, and it was light when he woke up. Dad had said that in the North the summer nights were very short.

Soon he realized that the sun was not up, but it was still light enough to see clearly. He crawled out of the sleeping bag and pulled on his jeans and sneakers, and a clean t-shirt. Crawling out of the tent, he discovered that no one else in the camp seemed to be awake. The sun was almost visible in the sky to the east. He could hear Dad snoring gently in the big tent. Ricky was hungry, but found a couple slices of bread in the cooler. He took those and started walking away from the campsite.

It was kinda magical. The birds were singing like crazy, and as he walked down the road he saw animals. Chipmunks first, then rabbits. He started trying to not make any noise at all with his shoes, and found that he saw more and more animals. He nibbled on the bread for a bit. As he was finishing the first piece, a Blue Jay swooped down and landed on the road about five feet in front of him. It squawked twice. “You want some bread,” Ricky asked, and tore off a crust and tossed in a few inches from the bird. It grabbed the bread and flew off. Suddenly there were dozens of birds. Orioles and cardinals, finches and sparrows, all clamouring for bread. Ricky tore the second slice of bread up into little pieces and shared it out to the birds circling around him. When it was all gone, he put out his hands “That’s all there is. I know you guys are hungry, but now I am too.” Actually the one slice he had eaten had taken the edge off his hunger, and he was contented to share the other. And the birds seemed happy too, singing as they circled about him.

“Come.”

Ricky stopped dead. He clearly heard the voice, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around.

“Come.”

There is was again. He wondered if he should head back to the camp, but when the voice spoke a third time he started towards it. A couple minutes later he came to the river. There was a beaver at the other side. It turned and looked at him, and then went back to gnawing on the stump he was working on. Ricky, a city boy, didn’t know that this was highly unusual for a beaver. Most would slap their tails and go into the water at the approach of a predator. Clearly this one did not see Ricky as a predator.

“Come.”

The voice was close now. It seemed to come from the river itself. It seemed to want him to get into the river.

“Come.”

Ricky sat down and took off his shoes and socks, then stuck his feet into the water. It was icy cold, and he quickly stepped back.

“Come.”

“No way, it is too cold.”

“Come.”

Ricky put his feet back in, and found the chill was gone. The water was nearly warm.

“Come.”

“Okay, okay. Give me a second.” Ricky took off his jeans, shorts and shirt, and then walked into the river completely naked. For a second it was freezing cold, and then it seemed to warm up.

“Come.”

Ricky waded out towards the middle of the river. Soon he was up to his neck. “I’m not coming any further,” he told the voice. Instead he just stood in the middle of the river, watching the beaver. A few minutes later, another beaver swam by, pushing a branch. Ricky was able to reach out and touch it, and did. The animal didn’t flinch, and Ricky was amazed at how soft the fur was. As he stood in the water, with even his chin below the surface, more and more wildlife appeared.

A bull moose with a massive rack came and stood next to Ricky’s discarded clothes. “Don’t poop on them, don’t poop on them,” Ricky whispered, but the huge animal merely sniffed his jeans, and then walked to the edge of the water, splaying his spindly long front legs and drinking deeply from the river. Ricky stood in the water a long time, watching different animals come drink. Once the beaver on shore stopped and looked, sniffing in the air. A second later it jumped into the water and swam deep, slapping its tail loudly as it did. Seconds later five full grown wolves appeared at the water’s edge and looked around. They stared at Ricky for a moment, and then ignored him. A moment later five pups appeared, as cute as any puppy the boy had ever seen: their parents, not so much. They were two to three times the size of German Shepherds and had huge teeth. “What big teeth you have, Grandma,” Ricky giggled to himself. Soon they had drank their fill and moved off, and slowly the other animals came back.

Ricky heard a gasp behind him and turned to see a girl standing on the shore a few feet from him jeans. “Are you okay?” she said. It was one of the pretty girls from the Junior Rangers.

“Yeah. I’m just chillin’” he said, then mentally cursed himself for such a lame line.

“Isn’t it cold,” she asked.

“No. I’ve been in here” he looked at the sun, which was now low in the sky “for a couple hours, I guess.”

“Hang on, I’m coming in,” she said, kicking off her shoes and socks. She was wearing shorts that showed off her pretty legs, and waded into the water, and then rushed back out with a shriek that caused birds to fly off from the trees.

“That’s cold,” she said. “Freezing. The water comes from the mountains up north. It is always icy cold. How do you do it?”

“I dunno. It was cold for me too when I first got in. Now it feels fine.”

She tried again, and managed to get a few steps into the water before jumping back out. “It is still freezing to me. You must be an ice man or something. Are you human?”

“Yes, I’m just a normal boy.”

“A boy … I wasn’t sure. I can’t even tell how long your hair is, as deep as you are. Do you wanna come out and talk?”

“Uhm, I really can’t,” Ricky said, looking at his clothes sitting on the bank. She looked at them then giggled. “Of course not. I’ll turn around and promise not to peek.”

She turned her back to him, and after a second Ricky decided to try to wade out. He slowly walked towards her and she didn’t turn as he pulled his shorts on, then his pants. “There,” he said as he pulled the t-shirt on.

“You are a boy,” she said with a smile as he pulled on his t-shirt. “I wondered if you were some kind of fairy or something.”

“Well, I’ve been called that before,” he said sadly.

She got embarrassed when she saw the double meaning, and apologized. “Well, I like you. I’m Gina, what’s your name?”

“River.” It was the voice again.

“Did you hear that?” Ricky said.

“What?”

“River. There was a voice that said ‘River’. It called me here this morning.”

“I come here in the morning a lot,” she said as they started putting their shoes back on. “Sometimes you can see animals come to drink.”

“Yeah, I saw a lot this morning. Wolves, beaver, deer, a moose.”

“No way! I’ve never seen a moose here.”

“It was right here. Look, I think that is its track.” He pointed to hoof marks a few feet away.

“You are right. That is a moose. And you saw her?”

“Him, I think. Only the males have horns, right?”

“Yes. Oh wow. I have only seen one from maybe a mile away, and you were right next to it?”

“Well, I was out in the river. But I did get close enough to touch a beaver swimming by with a big stick.”

“Okay, now you are bullshitting me. You can’t touch a wild beaver. If you were close enough to touch, it would have taken a chunk out of your arm.”

“Well I did. “Freeze!” he ordered suddenly. “Turn around very slowly. Look.” There were three deer standing in the clearing on the bank: a doe and two fauns.

“Wow,” she whispered. “I’ve never been this close to one before. Usually I see them on the other side of the river.”
Ricky put out his hand, and the doe slowly and hesitantly walked closer. Gina gasped, and the deer froze and seemed about to dart away.

Then Ricky made a noise he had never made before, something between a humming and singing. The deer started moving closer until it was inches away from his hand. He reached out and stroked the deer’s back, continuing his song. Tentatively Gina reached out and slowly stroked the doe, and it seemed to like it.

A minute later they were cuddling the fawns, with Momma looking proudly on. “This one is female,” Gina said, “Yours is male. See the difference in the pattern of their markings.” The doe nudged Gina.

“I think we need to let them drink,” Ricky said. They let the fawns loose, and the doe led them to the water.

“That was incredible,” Gina said, tightly hugging Ricky. “You have to bring me back here. Where did you learn to make that noise.”

“I don’t know,” Ricky admitted. “That is the first time I ever did it. It seemed to calm them down, though, didn’t it.”

“It sure did. Look, I have to get to work. What are you doing today?”

“I dunno. We just got in. I think I am free. Why?”

“Why don’t you come out with us? Gail is my partner in the JRs. Wayne is our leader. He’s a good guy, and will let you come, I think.”

“What are the Junior Rangers?”

“They started them when they reopened the camp a couple years ago. They pick 12 students going into high school in town, and we work out here for the whole summer. It was something to patch up relations with the town after the troubles from the closing of the old park. They only pay us $20 a week, and only in park store credit, but it is a great experience. Each year four get called back the next year as Rangers, and you get a real pay for that. I don’t think you would get any money, but if you want to hang with us, I think you can.”
“I’d have to ask my parents,” Ricky said.

“And I’ll have to check with Wayne, our leader. Come by our tents before nine if you want to hang out.”

“Sure.” They were at the entrance to Moose Drive, so Ricky headed towards his campsite while Gina went towards the Ranger station.

Ricky got into camp to the smell of breakfast cooking on the grill. Mom had bacon, eggs and sausage cooking, and Ricky and Dad each took large platefuls.

“Where you been, son?” Dad asked.

“Down by the river,” Ricky said. He decided not to mention getting into it. “If you get up early enough you can see the animals coming to drink. I saw deer, moose, beaver, and wolves. And a girl.”

“What, a girl drinking at the river?”

Ricky laughed. “No, one of the junior rangers came down to see the animals. We saw three deer. A momma and two babies.”

“Fawns,” Dad said.

“Yes. Anyway, the girl, Gina, said I might be able to go out with the junior rangers today. Can I?”

“A girl?” Mom said from where she was making a second helping of breakfast for the boys who were starting to move about in their tent. “I don’t know if I like you running around with a girl.”

“Mom,” Ricky whined. “It won’t be just us. There are 12 junior rangers, and they work in pairs or bigger groups. Gina’s partner is Gail.”

“Well, okay. When do you go?”

“What time is it?”

“Ten to nine.”

“I gotta go,” Ricky said, dropping his plate and dashing off to the ranger station.

Gina saw him some running down the road. She was standing next to a taller, thin girl who was pretty, although not to Gina’s standard. Gina waved him over.

“Gail, this is River. River, this is Gail.” Ricky was confused about the introduction and realized he had never actually told Gina his name. He was about to correct her when she grabbed his arm and dragged him over to a husky native man.

“Wayne, this is River. I was telling you about him. His folks say he can come along. Right, River?”

“Yeah, but ...”

“Come on then,” she said, pulling him back to a pickup truck. “We are planting pine seedlings today. It is pretty hard work, but it will help reforest some of the area that was cut down by loggers before the First Nations took back the land. Gail and I are one team, and you can join with us. Leean and Hailey are another team, and Mike and Bob here. The other guys will be in the other truck. Guys: this is River.”

Ricky just gave up on the name. He could be River for the next week. It would be too confusing to straighten it out now.

Minutes later the two pickups took off with three in each cab, and four in the back, five in Ricky’s truck. The two trucks split up at a crossroad, and every couple minutes another two people hopped out with a field of several acres that they needed to seed by the end of the day.

Gina and Gail had done seeding before, and they showed Ricky how to do it: walking in a roughly straight line, and then stopping every 20 paces and using a special tool to make a cut in the soil and then drop a four inch seedling into the slot, tamping it down with a boot. Each of them had two big bags of seedlings. They would walk away from the road for one bag, and then come back on the other. By the time they were back at the road, the truck drivers would have returned with more bags of seedlings.

The work was hard. The sun got higher into the sky and it got hotter. Mosquitoes usually are the worst part of the job, but today there didn’t seem to be any. Time went faster because the three were able to chat, with Ricky telling the girls about life in Toronto, while they explained the simpler life in the North. The three were on their third set of seedlings, the last ones before lunch break and were at the end of the first bag of that set, ready to turn around when Ricky heard a roar in the distance.

“Bear,” Gina said.

“Where,” Gail asked.

“Over there,” Ricky finally said as he spotted the bear, pacing by a tree in an agitated state. “Something’s wrong.” He started walking towards the bear.

“Stop, River,” Gina said. “Never go near a bear. Especially one that is upset.”

“Look, there is a cub.” You could hardly see the fluff of black against a tree. “It looks like it is stuck to that tree somehow.” Ricky said.

“Gail, can you run off and get Wayne?” Gina asked. Gail had been telling us that she was a competitive cross-country runner earlier. “River and I will watch from here.”

“Okay. Don’t get any closer.” Gail turned and started running towards the road at a good pace.

“Help.” It was the river’s voice. Ricky paused a second, and then started towards the bears.

“River, stop,” Gina screamed. “You can’t go near a bear in distress, especially about her cubs.”

“You stay here,” Ricky said. “I have to help.”

Gina hesitated, but Ricky continued to walk towards the bear. She followed slowly, walking about half as fast as his rapid pace. When he was about 100 yards away, and she was 250, the bear turned and looked at them, rearing up on her rear feet and roaring threateningly.

This stopped even Ricky for a second, until he heard the River voice again. “Sing.”

Ricky started the humming-song he had first used on the deer, and the bear seemed to settle down. He started walking again, right towards the bear. She dropped to all fours, and stopped growling, and soon he was close enough that she could sniff him. After that, she looked at her cub, and Ricky ruffled the hair on the back of her head and headed towards the little bear. Gina, who had stopped about 50 yards away, just stared in amazement.

Ricky got to the cub and discovered that it was an old fence post that had been nailed to the tree. The top had gotten loose, but it was still tightly fixed at the bottom. The cub must have been playing around it, and had gotten a paw wedged in between the tree and the metal post. Her paw was bent at an unnatural angle.

Ricky lifted the cub up as high as he could, and then was able to get the cub paw free. He set the cub down next to its mother, who poked her snout at the cub lovingly. Ricky looked at the fence support and heard the River say “Wrong.”

Ricky grabbed the fence post and pulled. At first it didn’t move, but then Ricky felt power flowing into his body from the earth and finally he felt the nails holding the fence loosen and he pulled the metal bar free from the tree.

He tossed the steel post and it landed a few feet away from Gina. Ricky was amazed ... he had tossed the bar nearly 40 yards. “Can you take that?” he asked Gina. It is ‘wrong’ out here.

“S ... sure,” Gina said hesitatingly. “Is the cub okay?”

“No. I think the paw is broken.”

“Oh, no. A wild animal won’t survive that.”

“Come.” It was the river voice again.

“I know,” Ricky said. “The river will cure him.” He reached down and picked the cub up. The mother looked on, and then trotted after Ricky as he walked towards Gina. She froze.

“Don’t worry. She knows we are helping. As long as I keep singing, she won’t hurt us.” Ricky had been singing, except when speaking, the entire time. He passed Gina, and the big bear followed, so close that she could touch it. She did so, and the bear looked at her for a second, making a deep purring sound and then it hurried off after Ricky. Gina was nearly paralyzed with fear and awe, but broke free and started following the big bear, hurrying to catch up to ‘River’. There is an old northern joke that says that one doesn’t have to outrun a bear, you just have to outrun the other person with you. She didn’t want to be behind the bear, no matter how docile it seemed now.

It took about 20 minutes to get back to the road where they saw the truck already parked. Wayne and Gail were standing on the road, mouths wide open, and the two teens, and the two bears slowly walked towards them. As they got closer, Wayne went to the cab of the truck and came back with a gun.

“Don’t shoot,” Gina yelled, running towards them now. “We are helping them.”

“Put down the tailgate,” Ricky yelled. “We need to take them to the river.” Gina dropped the steel rod she was carrying in the back, and then let down the tailgate.

“You girls … into the cab. NOW!” Wayne ordered as he moved to put the truck between the bear and himself. There was real fear in his voice, tinged with wonder. Meanwhile Ricky awkwardly got up onto the tailgate, and then swung himself into the truck without jarring his precious load. The mother bear stopped at the tailgate, hesitating for several seconds. Then she rose up on her hind legs and put her front legs onto the truck bed. A second later she had nestled into position, watching Ricky and her cub as they sat in the front of the bed, on the passenger side.

Inside, Gail was watching out the window at her new friend, holding the cute, but clearly damaged bear cub. Gina told Wayne to hurry and take them to the River, about a half mile away. He finally snapped out of his amazed semi-trance, and put the truck into gear.

A minute or so later they were at the river. It was a different place from where Ricky had visited at dawn, but it was the same river. All through the trip over he heard the River saying “Come” and it started to sound like a song, mixed in with the one that he was singing to pacify the bear.

Ricky realized that his song was like a painkiller to the cub, dulling the massive pain that it would feel otherwise. When he stopped singing to talk, he could feel the pain rising in the animal, so he spoke as little as he could.

At the river there was no question about stripping. He managed to kick off his shoes between the gravel of the road and the bank of the river but he just waded in. The cold only hit for a second, and then he could feel the warmth of the river. He walked out towards the middle and soon was chest high in the water. He held the cub so its mouth was out of the water, and he felt the warmth building within him feed into the damaged paw of the cub.

Meanwhile, momma bear was pacing along the bank of the river, watching her cub intently, but willing to do nothing as long as Ricky’s song continued. For a moment the three in the truck sat in the cab, but then Gina popped open her door and went over to the big bear. Wayne yelled at her to come back, but she ignored him. She rubbed the bear’s fur, and the beast purred again and stopped pacing, while never stopping her intense stare of her cub in the river.

Finally Gail and then Wayne came out. Gail went to the bear, and also started to rub its fur. The petting by the girls seemed to calm the beast. Wayne stayed closer to the truck, holding his gun.

For nearly an hour nothing seemed to happen, although Ricky knew that the River was curing the broken paw of the cub. The River spoke to him, and told him that it could cure things at different times. It cryptically claimed that it was curing him, but didn’t explain how. Ricky didn’t realize what needed curing in him. Finally he felt an end to the river’s power feeding through him into the cub, and he walked out of the water, holding the dripping cub. He placed the cub down on the ground, and it tentatively, and then surely gambolled over towards its mother. In a few minutes, the cub was rolling on the ground, playing with the two excited girls as its mother watched calmly.
“Put the gun away, and come over here,” Ricky told Wayne. “She wants to meet you.”

“The bear is my spirit animal,” Wayne said in almost a whisper. He reached out and stroked the fur of the bear, and it turned and nuzzled his face, finally licking his chin.

They stood and played with the bears for 15 minutes or so, while Ricky’s clothes dried a bit in the warm noon sun. Wayne just stood with his hand on the back of the mother, while the two girls and the cub played together.

“She is glad that the girls are playing with her little one,” Wayne intoned. “She had twins but one was born deformed, and she had to kill it. She mourns it to this day, and feels its loss. This cub, Wawansoh, has no playmates, so Hamsora, the mother, is glad that she can play today with these girls. She says that now they have to go hunt. She wishes to thank River.

With that the bear walked up to Ricky and reared up onto its hind legs, placing a forepaw on each shoulder. It then licked his face as it had Wayne’s. It then dropped back down, and ambled 20 yards away. The cub looked over at its mother, and then back at the girls sitting on the grass, and clearly was torn. Hamsora roared out a command, and little Wawansoh ambled off after her, looking back at his new playmates sorrowfully.

“That. Was. Amazing,” Gina said.

“So cool. Thanks River,” Gail added.

“Come on, we need to get back to camp. Lunch hour will be over,” Wayne said. “Can you girls sit in the back? I need to talk to River.”

Ricky got into the cab with the First Nations man. “I need to thank you for today,” he said. “My spirit animal has been the bear since my manhood ceremony eight years ago. But until today I never really was connected to one. I was actually able to talk to Hamsora? She told me much in a short time, and I hope to see her again.”

“She might not be so docile when I am not singing,” Ricky warned.

“She told me she now is kin to us, and will come when I call her. She taught me a song too. I would sing it for you now, but she is too close and would hear it and come.”

“What do you mean she is kin to us?”

“We are brothers now,” Wayne announced. “I will change my true name to Wayne Bearspeaker, and you will be River Bearspeaker among the people. You may be the first of the people to have yellow hair, though,” he said, tousling Ricky’s blonde locks. “The important thing is that you and I are now brothers, since Hamsora has kissed us both. I will need to convince the elders that you are now one of the people. I will do that this afternoon. Tomorrow is Sunday, and the junior rangers get the day off. Most of them head home to see their parents. I will see if some of the elders can see you then, if you have the time.”

“Sure, I think so. It will be cool to meet some real Indians.”

“First Nations Peoples, or just the people,” Wayne corrected. “We don’t like the term Indians. We are not from India.”

“Sorry.”

“No problem.” With that the truck pulled into camp where the other juniors had finished eating and were starting to worry about the four of them. Wayne stood and made an announcement. “I will leave the story about what delayed us to the girls, and River, to tell. I just want to announce that I am giving everyone the afternoon off. We can finish the seedlings on Monday. There are some things that I need to do.”

With that, he strode off, leaving the camp in a joyous uproar. Some kids immediately headed to the office so they could call home on the landline and let parents know that they could be picked up for the weekend early. Most clustered around Gail and Gina who were excitedly telling the story about the bears. Ricky stood to the side, adding points here and there.

It was two hours before things calmed down, and Gina and Gail realized that the three of them hadn’t eaten. The kitchen was closed, so Ricky suggest that they wander down to his campsite and see if Mom could feed them.

Mrs. Waters was relaxing in an easy chair, snoozing peacefully when she heard three girls approaching. She opened her eyes to see the three approaching: a stunning brunette, a tall, slender redhead, and a pretty blonde. Then she focussed again, and realized that the blonde was not a girl at all, but her son. When had his hair gotten so long? It was well over his ears.

“Hi Mom,” Ricky said. “This is Gina, and Gail, my work team from the junior rangers. I wondered if you could feed us. We had some adventures this morning, and missed out on lunch, and they closed everything early down there.”

As she made some sandwiches for the three, the girls gleefully explained what those adventures were, talking nearly non-stop. It wasn’t until she was able to get a sandwich into each mouth that she got a chance to speak.

“This all sounds amazing, but who is this River who was doing all this,” she asked innocently.

Ricky nearly choked on his sandwich. Finally, he explained the name confusion and that he was River.

“Oh my gosh. I am sorry River … I mean Ricky,” Gina apologized.

“Don’t … I kinda like the name River,” Ricky said. “I’d like to keep that name. Anyway, Wayne said it was going to be my First Nations name. Is it okay if some elders come by tomorrow, Mom? Wayne seems to think they will want to meet me.”

“I guess so. Your dad is down by the river fishing. You can ask him. If he catches anything, we can treat your new friends to dinner too.”

“Cool, let’s go find him,” Ricky said to the girls, and they ran off giggling. From the back it looked like three girls again to Mrs. Waters. She stared as she watched them out of sight, and then cleared up the mess from the late lunch.

At the river bank where Ricky had greeted the dawn there was no sign of Mr. Waters. But Ricky put his hand into the water, and the river told him where to find his father.

“He is down this way a bit,” Ricky said, leading the girls.

“How did you do … never mind,” Gina said as they followed him down river.

“Any luck Dad,” Ricky said as they got closer to him. He and two other older men were fishing and gossiping.

“Ricky? What happened to your hair? You are starting to look like a girl,” Dad said.

“Yeah, I’ll have to get a cut when we get back. It is really growing fast up here. Any fish?”

“No, a wasted day,” Mr Waters said. “We were all talking about going back soon.”

“Can I try?”

“You? You always hated fishing. You would never want to bait the hooks, or take the hooks out of the fish.”

“I’m not going to use bait,” Ricky said. “A new friend taught me a different way to fish, and I want to try it. The only rule is, you have to clean the fish I catch.” Ricky sat down taking off his shoes and socks and rolling up his jeans.

“No fish in this river,” one of Mr. Water’s companions said, a bit upset that the boy was wading into the fishing area.

“Not anymore,” the other said, as Ricky waded into the water, with his dad’s wicker creel on his hip. Both the other men started to pack up their gear.

Ricky, meanwhile, was knee deep in the gravel shoals at this bend in the river. He called the trout out from where they were lazing in the warm sun, and soon there were several dozen swimming around his legs, although they couldn’t be seen from shore.
Ricky looked at the fish, and the river told him which ones to avoid, too small or too old. He saw one big one and put his hands into the water. The fish swam between his hands, and Ricky snatched at it, cleanly grabbing it and popping it into the creel.

“He caught one,” he heard Gina sing out in delight as she danced on the bank. “He caught one.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” one of the men said. “I’ve never seen that done like that. Who taught you how to do that?”

“A bear friend of mine,” Ricky said as he plucked another large fish from the water. He was able to get a fish every 20 to 30 seconds, and soon had a full creel. He waded back to shore and put the fresh fish out on the grass. None were flopping … as he pulled them from the river, it had killed them so they didn’t suffer the trauma of death on the shore.

“The limit is six,” Mr. Waters said, counting the 10 fish. “Do you fellows want the extra?”

“Sure thing,” they both said, each taking two of the four smaller fish and putting them into their own creels.

The group walked back to the campsite, with the other men branching off to their own sites. Ricky, Dad, and the two girls were soon at the Waters site. Gail was a bit shy in front of Ricky’s father, but Gina was extremely outgoing, and was soon telling Mr. Waters about all their adventures from the day. Back at the camp she helped Mr. Waters clean the fish. Gail and Ricky helped set up for the meal, while Mrs Waters drove down to the park store to buy some supplies, and get ice. Even with the two girls for company, they wouldn’t be able to eat all six fish.

When she got back, the fish were cleaned and were waiting until a fire was ready to grill them. She had gotten a dozen cobs of corn from the store as well, so Ricky and the girls husked the corn, they made some Smores as they waited for the fire to die down to embers, and this soon lured Mark and Paul back to the site. Eventually the fire was down to coals, and three large cleaned fish were placed on a huge cast iron fry pan that Mr. Waters had found at a yard sale a few months ago. The pan had brought back his memories of the camp, and led to this entire trip. Corn was dropped into a pot of water boiling on the grill, and soon there was a delicious feast.

Ricky liked corn on the cob, but had never been much of a fish eater. But the smells coming from the fry pan had wakened a new yearning in him, and he found that the fresh fried fish was the tastiest thing he ever had eaten. The corn just topped off a wonderful meal.

The seven of them filled up on the 12 corn and three fish, and there was still some fish left over when a strange car pulled into the lot. It was Gail’s parents, who were taking Gail and Gina back into town. Each took a small taste of fish, and became friends-for-life with Mr. Waters after they savoured the tasty dish. For a minute the girls were hesitant to leave their new friend, and an invitation was made for Ricky to come to town with them, until Gina remembered that Wayne had something planned for Sunday with the Waters. The girls left, promising to see Ricky on Monday morning.

“Well, this has been an interesting start to the vacation,” Mom noted. “Those girls seem to be really nice.”

“Ricky’s got a girlfriend. Ricky’s got a girlfriend,” Mark chanted.

“More like two girlfriends,” Dad teased. “Although Gail seems to be several inches taller than you, son. The other is a real looker, though.”

“Dale,” Mom shouted. “She is 14. You do not notice when 14-years-olds are attractive. Understand!”

“Yes ma’am,” a chastised Dad replied.

“They are friends, not girlfriends,” Ricky protested. At the same time, he did think that Gina was the cutest girl he had ever met. Lisa, his friend back in Toronto was more than a little chubby, but Gina looked like a movie star or something.

The next morning Ricky was awake even earlier than the prior day. He silently walked down to the river in the dawn twilight. Again he stripped naked, and walked into the river. This time there wasn’t even a bit of chill: the water seemed warm as soon as he waded in. Again he walked out into the river and then watched the morning show of all the animals as they watered in the morning. The beavers were hard at work on the far shore, and he studied how they gnawed the wood down on the birch trees until they finally snapped and fell. His friend the moose returned, and a short time later a female moose appeared with a gangly young moose, which still seemed to be taller than he was. Several deer appeared at different times: Ricky felt he recognized the ones he and Gina had petted the day before.

“It is time,” the river finally told him, and he waded back to the riverbank. It only seemed to take a minute or two for the water to drip dry off of him, and he was able to get dressed again. Before leaving he reached into the warm river water and gently caressed it. “I will be back,” he said, and he felt a new warmth flood into him through his hand.

It was a bit after 9 when he got to the camp, and found breakfast was almost over. His Mom was guarding several strips of bacon from his bother and father, and cracked in two eggs as she saw him walking back. She handed him a plate as he sat down at the picnic table.

“Hungry?”

“A little,” Ricky said. “The river seems to nourish me. It also seems to make me not need very much sleep.”

Mom stared at him. “Ricky, your hair is at least two inches longer than it was yesterday. An inch I can see, but that is a good four inches in two days. What is happening?”

Ricky reached up and felt his blonde locks. They now were down to his shoulders at the sides, and longer at the back. “I dunno. Do you think the river is doing it? It says it is curing me.”

“Curing you? You mean like it cured the bear cub? But there is nothing wrong with you,” she said. “Is there?

The conversation ended when Wayne drove up in his pickup truck. Ricky finished his plate and took it over to the wash basin Mom had set up for doing dishes. Then he walked over to shake Wayne’s hand.

“Mom, Dad. Meet Wayne Beartalker. He is a member of the local First Nations People, and runs the Junior Ranger program here at the camp.”

After the Walkers greeted Wayne he spoke: “I have a couple things to mention. Did River mention that some elders were hoping to meet with you today?”

“He did,” Dad said. “And we would be greatly honoured to meet them.”

“Good. I suspect they are already on their way. I came a bit early. I got a phone call last night from the mother of Darrel Rekker, one of my junior rangers. She heard stories about JRs petting bears, and decided that the program was altogether too risky for her son, and pulled him from the program. Not much loss there. Darrel did more whining than actual work, and won’t be missed. But it leaves me with an opening on the team, and I’d like to offer it to River.”

“Oh Mom, Dad, please say yes,” Ricky went into full scale grovel mode.

“But we are only here for a week,” Dad said. “Or two,” Mom added.

“There are eight weeks left in the program,” Wayne said, “and we want a commitment for all of it. River would be well looked after. He would camp in the JR camp during the week, and would be able to stay there on Sundays, if he doesn’t get invited to the home of one of the other JRs.”

“Oh please,” River whined. “Gail’s parents already invited me to their house. I am old enough to look after myself.”

“You are definitely NOT old enough to look after yourself,” Mom said. “However, I think that if Mr Beartalker is willing to put up with you I think this would be a good experience for you. Dale?”

“Fine by me,” Dad said. “Do we need to sign those?” He pointed to several pages of paper Wayne was holding.

“Yes. Permission slips, contact information, that kind of thing.” He said as Dad and he walked over to the picnic table, with Mom following behind.

Mom turned around after giving Dad all the information about contact and medical histories to find Ricky at the wash stand, cleaning the last of the morning dishes. He was struggling over the big fry pad, scouring off the bacon bits egg remains.

“Honey, you don’t need to do that,” she said. “I was going to do it.”

“You need a vacation too,” Ricky said. “Plus I am super excited that you are letting me be a JR. I’ll even make lunch for us. If you show me how,” he added.

“No need for a lunch,” Wayne announced. “The elders will bring food for a feast.”

“Will some fish add to the pot,” Dad asked, opening the cooler to show the remaining three trout.

“Nice,” Wayne said. “You don’t often get trout like that this time of the year.”

“Those are the smaller three,” Dad boasted, telling Wayne the story of Ricky’s fishing expedition.

Soon more vehicles started to appear, mostly pickup trucks. First Nations people appeared, elders and younger, although none younger than Wayne. Dishes were brought out and placed on the picnic table, and when shown the fish, one man, somewhat older than Dad went off into the bush and started to slice twigs from willow trees. He came back, and handed a thick handful of willow wands to several of the women, who started weaving them together. Another man started making a fire in the pit, using a different technique from how Dad had done it yesterday.

Another older man lit some grass on fire, and started walking around the campsite, brushing the smoke from the grass out into different parts of the camp while two other men followed, banging on flat drums that looked a lot, to Ricky, like garbage can lids.

“He is cleansing the site,” Wayne explained to the family members. “That is sacred sweetgrass, and it will make the site ready for the rites to follow for the rest of the day.

Ricky moved away from his family and started to follow the drummers. He started singing the river’s song as they moved around the camp. In about 10 minutes the man with the grass stopped, throwing the rest of the burning grass into the fire. The drummers make several final beats, and then stopped. Ricky continued to sing, however. There were now several deer at the edge of the campsite, as well as squirrels and chipmunks. Birds were adding their song to his, including a red cardinal sitting on his shoulder.
He looked around and saw that everyone in the camp was staring at him, including the cleanser man and the drummers, who hadn’t realized who was singing the song behind them. Ricky faltered for a beat, and then continued, knowing that the animals would flee if he stopped. An ancient First Nations woman limped up to him.

“Sing on, River, sing on,” she said, taking his two hands in hers. Ricky felt warmth flowing from his hands into the woman. “I have not heard this song since I was a little girl, many winters ago. It is the Song of the River, and only can be sung by someone who is blessed by the River, and by the land. We came to this gathering to see if this woman should be allowed to join the people, and now it is clear to me that we should beg her to allow us to join her.”

With that the elderly woman dropped to her knees, “Mother River, will you allow me to join your tribe?”

The cleanser man, and the second drummer dropped to their knees and asked the same question. Seconds later everyone on the site, outside of Ricky’s family, dropped and said the same thing.

River - Chapter 2

by Dawn Natelle

You folks have been so kind and encouraging with the response to the first chapter of my little story that I have been inspired and have a second chapter finished. Thanks to Eric for editing this in a hurry, so you all could see it sooner. I did not mention this last chapter, but I am offering this under a Creative Commons license, with attribution for non-commercial use. This means you have to identify me as the author, and not use the work in any way that earns you money. You also have to carry this license over in any new use. This license statement applies to Chapter 1 as well.

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CHAPTER 2

So far: Ricky, now known to everyone outside of his family as River, has made a connection with the large river that flows through a First Nations campground towards Lake Superior. Now, the elders of the reserve have arrived at a ceremony intended to admit River into their tribe. But somehow it all changes, and the elders all bow down and ask to join River's tribe.

"What? Wait. Yes. No," Ricky quailed at the site of three dozen older men and women bowing in front of him. "I mean, I am so honored, but I am too young to be a leader. I would join your tribe, but it is not my tribe. Is it?"

"It is," the woman on her knees directly in front of him said. "You speak to the river. That makes you the leader of the tribe."

"But I am so young. You should be the leader."

"I was, for many years," the woman recounted. "The river spoke to me at one time. I was a young girl like you. Then I betrayed the river, and it no longer speaks to me. But I was leader until the time came when another would speak with the river. That time has come."

"But I am not even a girl," Ricky protested. "I'm a boy!"

"Not for very much longer," she answered softly. "The river will cure you."

Ricky was stunned. He looked to his parents, standing behind all the kneeling people. His mother looked worried; his father looked a little angered. He looked back at all the people. Even Wayne at the back was kneeling. "Oh get up, please," he said, offering a hand to the old woman. "I will do what I can for you ... for us. But I need help. Will you teach me? Can we share the leadership?"

The woman rose, slightly stunned by this. She opened her arms and wrapped them around the young blonde standing in front of her. "The river has spoken. Yes, I will teach you. I will share your duties until you are ready to carry them alone. Such has never been done before, but I sense the wisdom of the river in your offer. Now we feast."

With that, everyone stood up, and started moving around purposefully. All the animals that had been surrounding the campsite fled at the end of River's song. Birds went up into the trees, and sang a morning song, even though the sun was high. Picnic tables were moved in from other empty campsites, to make one great long table for 40. Two more tables were set up around the original one the Waters family had been using, and piles of food were arranged.

The three remaining trout were split into fillets and laid between two damp green willow woven skillets, and arranged over the fire to cook First Nations style. A spit was set up, and a great haunch of some animal, a deer perhaps, or a small moose, was set on it, with a male elder standing nearby to turn the spit from time to time.

A big drum had started playing as soon as the people rose, with two braves to either side beating it. Two other braves had smaller drums, the ones used in the cleansing ceremony, and they beat in time with the large ones. Another group, younger males and females about the age of Ricky's parents, started to dance around the fire. In all, it was a joyous celebration and Ricky felt moved by the display. He walked over to his stunned parents.

"What the hell just happened," his father said.

"I ... I really don't know," Ricky said.

"That woman said you are turning into a girl," his mother, Alison, added.

"I know."

"Do you want to be a girl," his dad said.

"I ... I want to be with the river," Ricky said. "That is the most important thing to me. If I have to be a girl, well, I will be. It doesn't really matter. I wasn't much of a man anyway."

"You would be, in a few years," his mom said. "Look, we can round up the boys and just get into the van and head out of here. Leave the camp gear. Maybe if we get away ..."

"NO!" Ricky said forcefully. "I can't leave the river. And I promised these people I would ... I don't know what I promised to do for them, but I can't just run away. I have to stay."

"For eight weeks," his Dad said. "Then what? You will be a girl, they say. I can see it happening already. How is that going to go over when you go to high school? Your classmates from last year will wonder how you changed from boy to girl in two months."

"I can't go back to Toronto, Dad. Maybe someday, but for now I have to stay near the river."

"Well, your mother and I have to go back to Toronto. You are barely 14. How do you think you will live up here until you are an adult? There are laws, you know. We can't just let you roam free."

"I know, and I don't know how it will all happen. But I trust the river, and the river will arrange things. We just need to flow with the currents for a few weeks and all will be clear."

Just then the old woman came over with the man who had done the cleansing ceremony with the sweetgrass. Her name was Edith Freedove, and he was Harold Redbear.

"Is there a problem here?" Edith asked. "We'd like to take River to the main table. The food will be finished soon. The venison was precooked early this morning, and will be hot now."

"No problem," Dale said. "Just trying to work out some logistics. Go with them, son ... er, Ricky. I mean River."

The elderly pair walked over to the table, while another lady led his family to four places near the spot where River was seated. Harold and Edith sat on either side of him. A prayer was said, and then Ricky sang his song for less than a minute, not wanting to attract the animals back with anything longer. Plates of food, with a small portion of the fish, a larger piece of venison, a cob of corn and a heap of wild rice filled the plate, with a native flatbread on top.

Before they started to eat, Wayne appeared with a fork holding something.

"It is traditional that the leader of the elders gets the liver of the deer," he said, offering River the meat.

For a second River was confused, but then looked down and saw a large hunting knife beside his plate. He picked it up and sliced the liver in two. "We have two leaders now," he said, offering half to Edith. She smiled and ate it, with a contented look on her face. Looking up, he saw that his gesture was well received by the others, who nodded and smiled. Then he looked down at his piece of liver, hoping that it was cooked. He put it into his mouth, and was surprised at how good it tasted.

That seemed to signal the start of the meal. For many minutes there were no words spoken and each and all filled themselves. By the end, there was happy chatter up and down the table, mostly in English, but occasionally in Ojibwe, which River was amazed that he now understood. Edith taught River some of the history of the people, going back to the day when the creator had begun the tribe on the great Turtle Island, up to more recent events, like the Three Fires Confederacy which only happened a few hundred years ago. Sad times of deprivation, and wars, mostly on the American side of the border, were mentioned, as well as happy times of feasting and good harvests.

Eventually the servers picked up the plates and cutlery, but left the great hunting knife in front of River, who picked it up and admired the amazing intricate carving on the bone handle. The drummers and dancers started up again.

"It's beautiful," River said.

"Yes," Harold said pointing to an older man on the drums. "John Lonewolf made it. He doesn't speak much, but he does wonderful carving. It is a gift for you."

"I couldn't ..." Ricky looked at the man, who was staring at him as he beat the drums, clearly hoping River would like and accept his gift. How could he not? "I will treasure it always," he finally said, mouthing ‘Thank You' to the drummer, whose face instantly lit up in a wide grin.

That was the start of a multitude of gifts, usually presented by the person who made them, for they were all handmade. Moccasins, blankets, a papoose (what was he to do with that, he wondered). Even so, it had a beautifully carved frame and embroidered cloths. Then one of the women dancing left the other dancers and went to one of the pickup trucks, and came back with a pile of material.

"My daughter was just a little larger than you," Eve Sunflower said to River. "I hope you can wear it once you learn our dances. I will teach you, if you cannot find anyone better."

River unfolded the material to discover that it was a beautiful native maiden's dance outfit, elaborately embroidered with clear signs of many hours of loving and skilled sewing in its construction. And it was definitely for a girl, with a wide, full circle skirt. Even though it was female attire, River loved it, and even wanted to try it on (what?).

"But doesn't your daughter need it? Or shall she give it to her daughter?" he asked.

The woman's face fell. "Lily is no more. She died 10 years ago." The woman still showed pain in her face as she remembered her daughter.

"She committed suicide," Edith whispered softly. She had been listening in. "Many of our young people go that way."

River was shocked. She looked at Eve, and then opened her arms to enfold the older woman. "I am so sorry. I swear I will do something to stop that type of thing. And I accept your offer to teach me to dance. My first mother cannot, so you shall be my second mother."

They sobbed together for a few minutes, and then broke apart. River could see that the tears now were a mixture of happiness and sadness. Eve now had a new purpose in life, and seemed rejuvenated by the idea of again teaching a young girl to dance. She went back and joined the dancers, smiling to them, and getting smiles back: smiles that also were directed at River by all the dancers. She had made one of them happy again, and that made all of them happy.

The party went on for a few more hours, and in early evening the elders packed up and left. Soon, Wayne Beartalker was the only one left. He came up to River.

"I named you wrong yesterday," he admitted. "Your name will not be River Beartalker, but River Alltalker, since you can talk to all the animals, and to the river. And I guess you will not be my brother, if you are going to become a girl."

"How can I turn into a girl?" River protested. "That can't happen."

"The river has powerful magic," Wayne said. "That is why our people have lived on its shores for over 250 years. It chooses who it wants, and it has chosen you: the first leader who was not originally one of the people."

"It seems so odd," River said. "But I feel a real connection with the river ... I think I felt it the first time I crossed over it, on that little covered bridge. Then, when it called me ..."

"Yes. And now your change will cause us some problems at the Junior Ranger camp. Right now you are a boy, but I am not certain how long that will be. I can't put you into Darrel's old tent with Jonathon. After you change you can move in with the girls. You get along with Gina and Gail, and there is room for three in their tent. But until then ..."

"Can he ... she ... whatever," his mother stammered, "take the tent from here?"

"That would work well," Wayne said, leaving soon afterwards.

That evening, River listened to a discussion that several times nearly turned to argument coming from his parents' tent. He fell asleep fitfully, wondering if he would be woken at any moment and forced to flee from his beloved river. But he rose at his normal time, before the sun rose, and went out into the park.

There were clouds in the sky this night, so the moon and stars did not provide any light at all. For a few minutes River just stood in the dark, wondering if he should just crawl back into bed. But then he noticed the outline of the single remaining picnic table to his left, and then his parents' tent to the right, and then the boys' tent. As he started walking, he found he could see the path, and then the road to the river. By the time he got to the river, he could see clearly, even though he knew it was pitch black out.

"Not naked," the river said, as he reached down to take off his shoes.

"Okaaaay," River said as he walked out into the river, fully clothed. This time there was no initial chill, and River walked out until his neck was covered. Then, he suddenly dropped, and sat at the bottom of the river. He held his breath, of course.

"Breathe," the river said.

Underwater?, River thought.

"Breathe," the river repeated. River trusted the river, so he opened his mouth and took in a gulp of ... air. The river must have concentrated air around his mouth the same way it concentrated heat around his body. In any respect he could breathe underwater.

River sat on the stream bed for over an hour, puzzling over the suicide problem that faces so many First Nations. But these are his people now, and he had vowed a solution. The river finally came up with a solution and relayed it to River.

Satisfied, River stood up, looking around. It was early dawn, with no sun but enough light to see normally. The animals came to the river to drink, and it seemed to River that they recognized him. Some even seemed to nod in approval at him. River started walking out of the river while the bears were drinking. They didn't flinch, and little Wawansoh even came over for a bit of playing. Hamsora merely looked on contently. Then Raven realized that he was not singing to the animals, and they were still friendly.

Then he got another shock, when he realized that he had walked out of the river completely dry. Somehow the river had not let the water into his clothes. He no longer had to get naked to wade in it. And that was a good thing, because he noticed two little nubs on his chest that hadn't been there before. And the hair that had been underwater for over an hour was bone dry, and four inches longer than when he went in.

River walked back to the camp. It was still quiet at the campsite, so he continued down to the JR campsite. All of the tents were empty, with the junior rangers home for the weekend, and the cabin seemed quiet too. River sat down with his back to a tree. It seemed the tree shifted a bit behind him, making the bark more comfortable to his back. "Thank you," River said politely, and he sat and waited, listening to the birds sing and watching the squirrels and chipmunks play around him.

About an hour later he saw a sleepy Wayne come out of the cabin yawning, wearing only jeans. River gasped at the sight of his muscular, hairless chest. Wayne turned at the sound and soon saw River sitting against the tree, then slowly standing up.

"Well that's a pretty sight," he said. "Are you completely changed?"

"No. Still a boy ... although not in so many places anymore."

"Wow, you already look pretty," he said, and she felt her face redden.

"Thanks, uh. I guess. Look, I think I know what to do about the teen suicide problem. What are the chances that you could have everyone at the river tomorrow at 4 a.m.?"

"Everybody?"

"The entire tribe. It is most important for the children to be there, and I mean all, right down to the little babies."

"Wow, that's a lot. I think there are 850 in the tribe. But I think I could get everyone there. The elders have been talking, and most people want to meet you."

"Okay. Oh, uh, tell them no gifts please."

"Sure. Well, my lazy Sunday off has just disappeared. I'll have to get right on it."

"Thanks, Wayne," River said as the ranger turned back into his cabin to finish dressing. "You're a sweetie."

‘Why did I say that?' River thought as he walked back to the family camp site. And what the heck was that feeling he had felt when he first saw Wayne's chest?

His parents were awake and making breakfast when River walked back. His mom looked up at him, wide eyed as she saw the little nubs poking through his t-shirt. "Oh Ricky," she whined. "It's starting already. Your hair is so long. And I need to take you to get a training bra." She enveloped him in a hug. "I'm losing my son, aren't I."

"Yeah, well you've got a spare anyway," River joked, nodding towards Mark's tent. "And think of it as gaining a daughter."

"That would be nice," she said softly with a little sob. "I mean, a house with three men ... I sometimes feel a bit left out." She paused, and ran her hand across River's back. "You're wearing a bra!"

"I am?" River questioned. He reached up and felt it under his t-shirt. "You're right. The river must have done that. I was in it for some time this morning, trying to come up with a way to help the people."

"You mean the Indians," she said as she reached under River's shirt from the back and pulled on the bra a bit, looking for the label.

"They don't like that term. They aren't from India," River explained. "What are you doing?"

"Checking for a size. I'm going to have to get you more of these, unless your river has a lingerie section we can shop at. You are a 32AA. And your shirt is ..." she looked at the back collar "... a small. Your jeans look like a girl cut. Hop into your tent and switch to a different pair."

River did so, but spoke out from within: "Don't get any clothes yet. The river hasn't finished ‘curing' me yet. Yep, still a boy, but wow, are they ever small. Less than half as big as they were."

"Your boy parts?" she asked as Ricky came out of tent, holding his jeans up with one hand.

"Yeah, and if I let go of these jeans, you'd probably be able to see for yourself. These are huge on me."

"I thought you were shorter," his mom said as she noticed that the pants were dragging in the camp dirt. "About two inches, I think." She grabbed his waist band, and pulled it taut. "And you have lost at least four inches around your waist."

Just then Dale and the two boys could be seen coming back from the washrooms. River dove back into his tent, and put on the river-shrunk jeans again. He then popped his head out of the tent, and crawled out.

"Oh man, your brother is a girl now," Paul said with a giggle. Mark just stared. As did his father.

Dale spoke first: "How are you taking this, Ricky?"

"Please call me River now. It hasn't finished yet. I'm still a boy technically, but just barely. I don't mind. In fact I'm started to just want it to be over, so I can see what I'm going to look like."

"You look pretty," Mark said. "I mean really, really pretty. Girl pretty. Argh. This is too weird for me." He dove back into his tent, and Paul followed right behind.

"You do look pretty," Alison said. She went off for a second, and then came back a few minutes later with a small mirror from her tent. "Look."

River looked into the mirror and was astounded at how much he had changed. His longer hair, now hanging down his back, or front depending on how it fell, was messy and out of place. But it was his face that had the biggest difference. His acne was gone ... of course the river would heal that. But his complexion was flawless, and slightly paler than it had been. Wouldn't the river have made him darker, more like a member of the people? It would have had to darken his hair then: no First Nations people have blonde hair, he mused.

His face was pretty. Not beautiful ("Not yet" he heard the river say) but definitely prettier than half the girls in his grade eight class this past year. His nose was much smaller, and his eyes seemed bigger, with longer lashes, as though he was wearing makeup. His chin was smaller, and more pointed.

"Come. Sit," his mother ordered as she got out a comb. "No child of mine, particularly a female child, will run around with hair like that." With that River was made to sit in front of her on the picnic table as she combed her new hair.

At first it was like torture. His hair had grown out eight inches in a matter of three days, completely and totally wild, and the tangles and knots took Alison a bit of work to clear up, with each knot and tangle resulting in a strong yank that nearly had River crying. But eventually the rough spots were gone, and Alison's comb was flowing smoothly through the hair. She switched to a brush, and this actually felt nice to River, with his mother's brush and hand flowing through his straight blonde hair.

"Why didn't you use that first?" River asked Alison. "It hurts a lot less."

"It couldn't do anything," Alison said. "You needed the combing first to smooth things out. At least now you won't let your hair go for three days. You need a good brushing every day, at least. I will have to get you a grooming kit when we go into town next. And a handbag. And makeup." She finally stopped brushing and turned River around to look at him ... her.

"No makeup," River said firmly. "And I think I have a bag." He dove into his tent and went to the pile of gifts she had been given the day before by the elders. "Will this do?"

"Oh honey, it is gorgeous," Alison said. "I didn't see it yesterday, but it will be a perfect bag for you." It was a large side bag with a long, beaded strap. The entire surface of the bag was beaded as well, and suddenly River recognized the pattern. It was a nearly perfect map of the river, with small animals in beads around it. It wasn't a handbag ... more a full, large purse. Perfect for a girl of the people to carry around, toting not only her feminine items, but practical ones as well, such as the lovely knife he had received the day before.

"I love it," River said. "See, it has the river on it," he mapped out the serpentine curves on that side of the bag for her mother.

"It is priceless," Alison said.

"How do you know that is the shape of the river? You haven't walked more than a mile of it," Dale asked. He had taken over the kitchen duties from Alison while she got used to her new duties. He put a plate in front of each of them, and called the boys out to breakfast.

"I know the river from the source at a small spring up in the hills to the bay where it exits into Lake Superior," River said. "It is knowledge the river has taught me."

"What else is it teaching you?" Dale asked curiously.

"Lots," River said. "All about the animals and plants around the river. I can name every tree, and every plant in this park. And I know which ones are healthy, and which need to be harvested. I hope the rangers will accept my advice on this. Some trees are very sick, and some need to be saved."

"Wow. What kind of tree is that," Dale said, pointing.

"That is aninaatig," River said, then stopped, eyes wide. "I only know all that lore in the language of the Ojibwe. Interesting. I have to translate to English. It is a maple."

As the family ate, Mark kept staring at his new sister. "Will I get turned into a girl if I wade in the river?"

"No sport, I don't think so," River said. "It was just special for me, I think."

"You gonna eat that?" Mark pointed to the three pieces of bacon on River's plate, that he hadn't touched yet.

"No, go ahead." The tween's hand had reached out and snatched the meat before River had finished speaking. He handed one to Paul and ran off with the other two, giggling, his friend close behind.

"Boys," River laughed. "Anyway, Mom, I really don't need so much to eat. The river sustains me. I only need an hour or two to sleep, and not much food at all."

"I don't want you to get anorexic or anything," Alison said.

"I can't, Mom," River explained. "The river will keep me healthy. I don't think I can get fat either."

"Well, not unless you get pregnant," Alison said.

"No. Never!" the river said forcefully.

River laughed. "The river just said that I shouldn't get pregnant. I'm all in favour of that ... I mean ... boys ... doing that." River shuddered.

"I like the way your river thinks," Alison laughed as she and River started washing up the breakfast dishes. "What do you have planned today? A quiet day with your family, I hope?"

"No, I think I need to go down to the river again," he said. "There will be a lot of people coming by tomorrow, very early in the day. I need to get ready for them."

A few minutes later River was on the river bank again, nearer the road. The river was a mess here. People had used it as a tipping off point, dropping their rubbish into the river. The area where River usually waded was several hundred yards off the road. But this is the area where most of the people will come tomorrow, and River needed to clean it up.

She started with the big things. Ovens and iceboxes had been tossed into the water. At first River felt that she had no chance of moving them: some were half embedded into the sand. But the river said "Try," so she did. And surprisingly she found strength flowing into her from the water until the items could be moved. Rocking them back and forth helped displace the sand silted within, and soon she was able to heft the items up and carry them awkwardly to a pile at the edge of the road.

Once the big items were moved, River started on the small stuff. Beer bottles and other glass items had been thrown into the river here by uncaring campers, and many had broken and would cut the feet of the people who tried to enter the river here. She found a bushel fruit basket half buried in the silt, and rinsed it out. It was one of the old round wooden baskets made of thin slats of wood. It would float empty now, being made of wood, but wouldn't keep out water as it was filled. She pressed down on the sides to see how much water it would hold before being submerged, and was astonished to see that no water flowed in. A bit more pushing, and she realized that the river was not allowing any of its water in. She could actually see the water on the other side of an inch wide gap in the slats, but none came in.

So River spent the next few hours digging in the river bottom, often submerged long enough that she needed to take a breath underwater. The river identified what she needed to work on She brought up both broken glass and rusty and jagged bits of metal that could tear into a child's foot. For it was children she wanted in the river tomorrow morning.

After she had filled the first basket, the river told her where to find more, two others further down the river, and three more on the other side. Rather than walking across the bridge to the other side, she swam across, even though she had never swum before. She continued through most of the day, picking the area clean and filling five of the baskets, and part of the sixth lining them up at the roadside near the bigger objects.

It was sunset when River finally walked back to the camp site. Her brother and friend were already in bed, and her parents were starting to worry about her. They relaxed as they watched the pretty blonde, with hair now down to her mid back, and definite feminine curves.

"River honey," Alison said as she hugged the smaller woman. "You have changed more."

"Yes," River said. "I'm bigger up top, and more hair I guess. Almost done down there. Two of the three are gone completely, and the other guy is lonely and as small as a baby's, I think." She was now starting to think of herself as a girl, and no longer as a boy.

Alison again reached up and found that now there was no training bra, but an actual bra there. "32A now," she announced. "Anyway, all that new hair has to be combed, and I think I will show you how to braid it. Long hair is less work if you braid before bed."

The next half hour was spent with comb and brush, and a lot less painful yanking for River this time. Alison braided her hair into a long single braid, and left to go to bed with Dale. River's tent had been moved down to the JR campsite by Dale and the boys during the afternoon, so she wondered down the road. Halfway there, she realized that she wasn't sleepy, and decided to just sit up against a tree until morning.

Again the tree seemed to conform its bark to fit into her more sensitive back, and she relaxed completely, thinking about what would happen tomorrow.

River - Chapter 3

By Dawn Natelle

So far: River is nearly all girl now, and is anxiously awaiting the events of the morning, where she will attempt to stem the flood of teen suicides that are happening in First Nations settlements across Canada, including the River Reservation. At least she hopes to solve the problem locally.

It was another moonlit night when River left the campsite. It was still early ... the dawn birds had yet to herald in a new day. It would be several hours before 4 a.m., when she had asked the people to come to the river. As she walked there, River realized that this was the first tribal gathering that she had called. She wondered if special ceremonies were required. She would have to ask Edith or Harold, if they came. Would anyone come, she wondered? She went into the water, and drew energy from the river for over an hour, feeling her insecurities flow away. She only came out when she saw the first truck.

It was Harold Redbear, and he had his cleansing sweetgrass rope with him. He built a small ceremonial fire, with the assistance of his two sons, who had arrived in the bed of the pickup. River walked over towards his wife and daughter, who looked to be River's age. As she approached they both bowed to her.

"None of that, you hear," River said with a smile. "I'm not a goddess or something. I put on my bra one cup at a time, you know."

"You do?" said the daughter. "I put mine on both at the same time."

River reddened. "It was a joke, like men who say they put their pants on one leg at a time. I really haven't been wearing a bra very long, but I guess you are right. I'm River Waters." She reached out to shake hands, first with the mother, and then the daughter, who still seemed in awe of her, and barely touched her hand before pulling back."

"I am Elizabeth Redbear," the woman said. "This is Lisa, and the boys are Charles and Jason. You know my husband Harold, I think."

Lisa didn't speak, but made a small wave of her hand. River was about to speak to her when a second truck appeared, and this one contained Edith Freedove in the passenger side, with a younger man driving, and at least eight people in the back. River nodded to the Redbears, and moved on to greet Edith, who introduced her son, his wife, another son and wife, and six children aged 10 to a babe in arms. The others left the two tribal leaders alone, and River and Edith walked to the banks of the river alone, with River explaining her plan to Edith.

"This idea comes from the river?" Edith asked.

"Yes. It came while I was sitting in the water."

"The water in the river is very cold. I don't know if all the young people will be able to stand in it, as you want," Edith said.

"It will warm for them," River said.

Edith got a distant look on her face. "Oh yes, I remember now. Standing in the river, feeling its warmth," she said wistfully.

River remembered that she had been able to talk to the river at one time. "This might be prying, but you mentioned ‘betraying' the river. Can you tell me how?"

"Oh yes. I must," she said. "You see, the river will only speak to a virgin girl."

"But I wasn't a girl, when I first met the river. I'm not sure that I am one even now," River protested.

"No, you were a girl. Your body just didn't match your soul. In olden times you would have been called two-spirited. But here, the river cures people of that."

River frowned, thinking it through. Had she really been a female? She didn't think she was girlish before. She certainly hadn't been the prototypical boy: into sports and roughness and crudity. And boys had bullied and plagued Ricky for years. Then a thought hit her: "You mean ... you stopped being a virgin ... and ...?"

"The river stopped talking. If I stand in it now, it is as cold as ice. I can't say I made the wrong decision. Bill was my first, and only lover, and he stuck by me after. We had 14 children ... these two boys ... well, men now ... are two of the eight boys who survived, two boys and a girl died young. Another four boys and their families will be here. Two others have moved on to the city. All three of my girls will be here, with their families. I have 24 grandchildren, and each one is a treasure to me."

"Thank you for telling me this," River said thoughtfully. "I'm still a boy, in my head so I really haven't thought much about this. I'm probably safe for a few years. I wonder why it has taken so long for the river to choose someone new?"

"The river will only choose certain maidens. No one knows when the next one will appear. I mean next week it might find another girl who it can accept."

"And then it will stop talking to me?" River said fearfully.

"No, my dear," Edith said. "If you don't betray it, the river will remain with you. It remains with me, a little bit. I think that this has been the longest time that we have gone without a rivertalker. It is more common to have two rivertalkers, which would be the case if another appears. Deep in our history there is talk of the time of The Three Maidens, when there were three. That was a bit of a disaster, and soon all three betrayed the river, with a span of several years. The last was like me, a leader who no longer spoke to the river, for over 20 years."

"And don't be so sure, that you won't be tempted by men as you mature," Edith added. "When the river has finished curing you, you will start to be attracted to men. And they are already attracted to you. You are so very beautiful, and with your golden hair, so appealing to the men. My grandson Wayne can't stop talking about you."

"Wayne Beartalker?" River said with a gasp, feeling her face redden. Edith seemed to notice.

"Ah, so there are some feelings starting already? You need to be aware that remaining a virgin does not mean living without love. You can kiss, hold one another, and even do some sexual acts, so long as you do not do the one that can produce babies. You will be able to satisfy yourself like that, but it will take a special man who is willing to not go all the way."

"I can imagine," River said.

"I feel that my Wayne might be one like that," Edith said. "He is a bit different. He is one of only a few who have gone to university and all. So many of the people don't even finish high school. But he is a bit old for you. He is 19, and you are what, 12?"

"No, 14 actually," River said. "Is five years so much?"

"Oh, my mistake. You wouldn't be in junior rangers if you weren't going into high school next year. I forget that the river hasn't finished curing you yet. Five years is a lot, for one so young. But as I say, if Wayne is the special boy you need, he will wait for you to catch up. When you are out of high school, then five years will not be too much."

"Oh my," River said. She had just glanced back and found that in the time that she had been talking to Edith, a crowd of several hundred people had amassed on the road back to the campsite, and more were coming each minute. She looked at the early dawn light, and knew from the lore the river had taught her, that it would be near four o'clock.

She walked over to Harold, and asked if he was ready to do the cleansing. He nodded, and then lit the braided sweetgrass and started walking in and around the crowd. River watched more closely this time, and noticed that he was using a large eagle's feather to push the smoke from the sweetgrass around the people. He circled River first, and then Edith, and then walked through the crowd. Because there were so many, he had to light a new braid twice, and spent nearly an hour in the cleansing. As the people patiently waited for the cleansing to end, Edith mentioned that there were no drums or dancers this time, because this was a rite, not a celebration.

Finally Harold was finished, and came back to River and told her they were ready for her to explain her rite.

River took a deep breath, and started to speak. "Peoples of the river," she said as loudly as she could. She noticed that once she opened her mouth, the wind stopped blowing through the trees, and all the birds stopped singing, allowing her voice to carry to the back of the huge crowd. "This ceremony is a gift of the river. The river and I have spoken long about the problem of our young people ending their lives too soon, and what can be done with it. The river will take us in, and show us what we have, and how much we lose if we do something stupid.

"I want all the youth of the people, from babies up to ... say Wayne Beartalker's age: those who went to school with him. All of you will follow me into the river. Those with toddlers and infants can give them to one of the older children to carry, but all must enter the river after me. It will feel cold for a second, perhaps bitterly cold. But wait for a second or two and the river will warm for you. When we are all in the water, I will lead you."

Parents with infants came forward, and three approached River almost as if it was a race. One she recognized as one of Edith's daughters or daughters-in-law. Each wanted to hand their little one to River. She took the first child, and put it on her left hip, and then reached out with her free arm to take Edith's grandchild. The third woman paused, seeing there was no way River could carry three. Then Lisa stepped forward and took the third child.

"Thank you," River said to Lisa. "I didn't want to disappoint her, but two is all I can handle."

"They all wanted the honor of having you hold their child," Lisa said.

"Will you walk beside me into the water?" River asked.

"Oh my," Lisa stammered. "Yes, I guess I can."

In all, there were more than three hundred youth, children, and infants that waded into the river. Most paused after a first chilly step into the water, and then continued in amazement as the water around their feet warmed. Soon all were standing in the river, with the water level only a few inches below their necks. Thus smaller children were closer to shore, and older ones deeper, with Wayne and other tall youths his height near the middle of the river.

River began to sing. Few of the children recognized the words, since they were in Ojibwe, although some of the elders and adults still on the banks did. Then, slowly the children began to understand the words, and they were soon singing the chorus that came up every minute or so. The song was a history: not of the people, but of the river itself. It started with the years before the people came, when the river flowed on, lonely and alone, with only the moose and the bear as companions. Later the first peoples came, but they disappointed the river, and it let them go. Then the people of the river came from the east, travelling away from the great Turtle Island where they had been before. Finally the song talked about the heroes of the river's people. The bulk of the tribe had been to the big battles against the Americans in 1812 and 1814 at Mackinac and Michilimackinac. Two of those men went on to fight with the great Tecumseh and died in the lonely lands to the south of the great lake. There were the men who had fought in the Great War in Europe, including Edward Snow, who had led a charge through no man's land, and tossed a grenade into an enemy machine gun position, enabling his company to take the trench even as his body was riddled with bullets. Then there was the Second World War, where 18 men of the river answered the call, and served with valour in India, Africa, Italy, and Europe, with only five returning unharmed, and three others badly wounded.

As well as warriors, the song sung of peacekeepers and builders, and women of the river people who have been nurses in war and in peace. Of Doc Greenbird, who was one of the first natives in all of Canada to get a medical license, and then came back to the river reservation to practice for over 50 years. Most of the people on the banks had been delivered by the old doctor before he died as well as many of the older youths in the water.

The singing concluded nearly an hour after it had started, with a final rendition of the chorus sung lustily by every voice in the water. River was amazed that even the babies she held, and the ones near her, were singing in a wordless way, joining in with the older children, even if in baby talk. River wondered, and the river confirmed to her, that they knew the meaning of what they said, and would remember it when they learned to talk.

We are the children of the mighty river people
Our people serve the river and its world
We are the children of the mighty river people
We will never stop protecting our lands
We are the children of the mighty river people
Our land, our tribe, our country, our world

As the last notes drifted away in the winds, River spoke: "This is your song. Your tribe. Your history. Never forget the place that you have in the world. You are the children of the mighty river people, and no one can ever take that from you. Only you can end it. Drugs, alcohol, despair, and loathing should never again touch our people. Go forth from the river and be proud of your heritage."

River walked up to two young girls of about 10 and handed the babies to them. Each took an infant, glowing with pride at being selected by the young leader they were all growing to revere. River went back deeper in the river, and turned to watch the children and youths move onto the riverbank.

"The river is powerful," River called out, immediately stilling the crowd. Many of the young people were jabbering to their friends and parents in fluent Ojibwe, and the parents who didn't know the language, more than half of them, were confused. "The river tells me that it wishes to join with the rest of its people. Please, those who did not come in before, enter the river now. Assist the elders who have need."

Soon, there was another crowd in the water, slightly smaller, but all adult, including a few who could barely walk without assistance. This time River started singing a version of the chant/song that she had used before to calm the animals. She was surprised when she heard the voices in the river pick up on the chant. The river told her that it was also teaching Ojibwe to these people, as well as healing them. It then announced that it had finished healing River, to her surprise. She felt a wave of femininity waft over her, and warm her soul in a way she had never felt before.

Then River noticed that the chant/song was coming from the banks, as the youth and children, most still dripping in their wet clothes, joined in. Then there was a wolf howl from not far away, and some of the voices faltered, but River smiled as she sang on, and her people continued to sing.

Suddenly, a pack of about 50 wolves burst onto the scene from just up the river. They stopped, and took a drink from the river, completely at ease with the several hundred people in both the water and on the shore. The pack had full grown wolves, half grown, and just-weaned cubs. Wayne, standing on the shore, walked over to one of the largest wolves, and stroked the fur on its head. The animal suddenly leapt up at his throat, which it promptly licked. Wayne had caught the wolf, and once the flash of fear dissipated, started to laugh as the rough tongue of the animal washed his face.

Other boys from the tribe walked over and picked up half grown wolves and the cubs, until soon there were about 20 of the wolves in all in the arms of the people. Suddenly, there was a howling from a wolf still a few hundred yards away from the river, and all the other wolves bolted away to join him, and the remaining pack ran away.

That was the alpha male, the river told River. The pack heard your singing, and was drawn to you. The old male tried to keep them away, but couldn't. His pack was too large, and the old wolf was worried that he was losing control. The young wolf your boyfriend took was the main contender to take over the pack when the dominance battles of the fall take place. The old wolf has had its way: his competitor is gone, along with enough young wolves to return the pack to a manageable size.

"He is not my boyfriend," River protested, as she watched the pack bounding away. Not one of the wolves held by the youth of the people left, even those which were put back onto the ground. The big wolf that Wayne had befriended stood next to his leg, and moved as he did.

"The healing song is over," River announced, as the older people started to leave the river. "Please meet us back on the shore."

When they were all assembled again, River could pick up both Ojibwe and English conversations going on amongst families and groups, sometimes switching from one language to the other seamlessly. River spoke, and again the winds and the birds quieted so all could here: "This ceremony was a success, thanks to the river. It has taught the young what a blessing they have in being a part of the people, and the massive history we share to be proud of. The wolves have joined us. Those who have one should not think of it as a pet, but as a partner. They are not puppies or dogs. They are residents of the river lands, just as we are. We must treat them well, and honor them, and they will be faithful friends and companions.

"We have also cured many of our elders. I saw many limp into the water, or be assisted with great difficulty. And I saw those same elders seemed to walk out of the river far easier than they had entered. The river told me that it was curing diabetes, arthritis, osteoporosis, skin blotches, and many other ailments. Your aches and pains should be lessened now, and you may feel younger. And I am proud to announce that the river has declared me cured of my maleness." There was a brief murmur of surprise and some clapping, but River stopped that by continuing.

"Finally, all the people now share a common language. It is a gift from our forefathers that we have squandered in the years past. Let us remember and use it amongst ourselves and teach it to our young. However, when around the people of the town, use our language sparingly, as we know it will upset them and leave them feeling excluded."

The people didn't cheer or applaud as the whites do. It was not the way of the people. Instead, they smiled, nodded, and touched their forehead to signify that a message has been received. As she looked out on the smiling faces looking at her, River was gladdened to see huge smiles, many gentle nods, and every hand, other than the infants, touching a forehead. Then, with that silent applause given, most of the people turned and walked back to their trucks and vehicles. River walked back to the campsite with Edith, while her family followed slowly in their truck.

"Hello, mother," River said with a smile, as she greeted her parents who then stared curiously at her. River then realized that she had spoken in Ojibwe, the language she had been speaking since she walked out of the river. "Sorry," she said in English. "Sometimes I forget who I am talking with." She turned with a smile and a nod to Edith as the elder got into her sons' truck. Once inside, Edith turned to look at River, and gently touched her forehead. Seconds later, everyone in the truck, those in the cab, and the crowded group in the box, touched foreheads as well, giving River a warm feeling of contentment.

"What is all that?" Dale asked.

"We had a good meeting," River said understatedly. "The river taught the young people of their heritage, and their importance to the world. I think the teen suicide problem will be over here. Now I just have to figure out how to get the word out to the other reservations. Also, all seem to have learned Ojibwe, and I think the drug and alcohol problems in the community will go way down."

"Sounds like a busy morning," Alison said. "And you seem to have grown some more."

River looked down at her chest, which was now probably a B cup. Her blonde braid was much longer now, nearly a foot below her waist. "I hope that is all I am going to change for a while," she said. "The river said I am cured now, so I must be a real girl. Before I went into the water Edith thought I was only 12 ... I think I could pass for 16 or 17 now."

"Welcome, my daughter," Alison said, sweeping River into a tight hug. If you really are a girl, then we will need to have a talk ... several talks ... sometime during the next month. And tomorrow, we go shopping! You need new clothes."

"Mom," River whined. "I have lots of clothes. All I have to do is wear my boy clothes to the river, and it will change them to fit me. I go in with no bra on, and it will make me one."

"Jeans and t-shirts? That isn't enough for a girl. You need skirts and dresses sometime."

"Remember all the buckskins I got from the elders on Saturday? They were all skirts and fancy shirts. I thought it was weird at the time, getting that kind of present from the elders, but I guess they knew what was happening. I don't really need any clothes."

"Man, you are a real spoilsport," Alison said.

"Sorry mom. Maybe later. I mean, I definitely will need back to school things in a few weeks, won't I?"

Just after lunch Wayne pulled into the campsite in the Junior Ranger pickup. He smiled at River, then headed over to Dale.

"Honey, there is a phone call for me at the park office. I have to go with Wayne." He hopped into the cab and they headed off. River wondered why it bothered her that she hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Wayne, and why it had pleased her when he had smiled at her. She didn't have long to think, as her Mom pulled her into the big tent and sat her down for what was the first of what was going to be many girl-talks.

They were just getting into what River considered the icky-bits that she would be facing monthly now, when the pickup returned. Dale looked worried, and popped into the tent. "Ricky, can I talk to your mother ... sorry, River. And on second thought, you can stay. You have matured a lot over the last few days. You should hear this.

"My call was from the construction company. Something fishy has been happening down there, and I'm going to have to go down and clear it up. I'm going down tonight."

"Aww, Dad," River whined, "this is your holiday, too. They can't make you end it, can they?"

"I need to go," Dale said. "Your Mom will stay up here. I hope I can get back before the end of our vacation, and I will definitely have to get back in time to bring you all home ... except for you, River. You get until the end of the summer to keep your contract with the junior rangers."

"Come on now, let's get everything out of the van. Hopefully I'll be back tomorrow or the next day, and I can restock our supplies when I am in the city."

River helped empty the van, and soon she was watching her father leave for the long drive back to Toronto.

That afternoon River went down to the river with a huge stack of her boy clothes. She had told her mother that the river would transform them, but really wasn't sure. Walking down river for a few hundred yards to an area where she didn't expect other campers to disturb her, she sat down on a rock and put on a pair of the now too big jeans over a pair of jockeys. They were too long, and too tight around her hips, making it impossible to button them up, even though her waist was much smaller. She looked around, making sure there were no peepers about, and then took off her t-shirt, then her bra. She quickly pulled on a boy shirt, and then waded out into the river.

"I hope this isn't demeaning you, or something," she said to the river, and got a warm feeling from it in return, basically saying it was fine with the idea.

River spent about 15 minutes in the water. It took about five minutes before she was able to button the jeans under the water, but the river made her wait another 10 minutes before she felt it was good to go. She got out of the water, again amazed that her clothes were completely dry as she climbed up the bank. And the jeans now felt tight around her now shapely rear, with the button snug around her small waist. The t-shirt now had a deeper neckline, showing off her cleavage, and a finger pulling the neckline showed a bra that hadn't been there before.

River changed again, and then went into the river another five times, each time coming out with another set of female jeans, panties, bra and t-shirt. The last time, she risked going in with her boy's dress shoes, which were now five sizes too big and were hard to keep on her feet as she waded into the water. Getting out was no treat either ... the shoes now fit perfectly, but they had a three inch heel, not the ideal thing for wading in sentient river beds.

It was nearly dinner time, so River picked up her now larger pile of clothes and headed back to the campsite. Her mother was in a tizzy, worried about Dale, so River took over making the dinner, which was wieners and beans again. After feeding the boys, and forcing Alison to eat a dog, River cleaned up and set up a marshmallow roast for the boys before bed. She wasn't sure how they managed to eat so many Smores after three hotdogs each, but when it was their bedtime, she hustled them into their tent and went and put out the fire safely.

She went over to her Mom and put an arm around her. "He's all right, mom," she said. "He won't even be home yet. At least he will be driving into Toronto well after rush hour. He'll be home tonight and I'm sure he will phone in the morning and tell us that everything is all right."

"Yes. I just miss him so much," Alison said, hugging River tightly. "Thanks for looking after the boys. I feel such a mess. I just know that something is wrong. I should have gone with him."

"You are fine here," River said. "Do you want me to stay here in Dad's cot tonight?"

"Would you?" Alison said, voice aquiver. It seemed to River that she was the child, and not the parent anymore. River just led her into the tent, and tucked her into her sleeping bag.

As normal, River didn't sleep long. She rose to another cloudy, dark night. Her night vision allowed her to see her mother tossing fitfully in the other bunk. River reached out and touched her mother's forehead, and then over the next minute the woman stopped tossing and fell into a deep sleep. Satisfied, River got dressed and left the cabin, headed for the river in the pitch black of night.

River was in the water for several hours, feeling the energy and learning flowing from the river into her. She saw dawn come, and the animals coming to feed and play in the water. Normally wildlife come to a river and drink quickly and then flee. The watering spots are prime areas for predators to find prey. But somehow the animals seemed to know that while River was there, nothing bad would happen to them. Thus River was able to see such antics as otters playing tag with wolf cubs, and foxes drinking beside chipmunks that would normally be a part of their diet.

River felt, rather than heard, the two girls approach. "There he is," Gina said as they walked down the bank. Then they paused as they saw River waist deep in the water.

"Sorry," Gina said. "I thought you were ... a boy ... I know ... River?"

"Yes," River said as she waded to the bank. "I know. I've changed."

"Changed? You are a girl? How ... ?"

"The river changed me, mostly over the weekend. I'm all girl now."

"You are beautiful," Gail said. "Just my luck. First I get bunked with the prettiest girl in town, and now even a boy is even prettier than me."

"You are pretty, Gail," River promised. "I know. I used to be a boy. Gina is hot, but some boys ... a lot of boys ... would be intimidated by her. You are cute, and I know you are going to be really popular in high school."

"You think so?" Gail asked hesitantly. "I'm so tall though."

"That could be a good thing. Tall boys will be all over you, but if a shorter one asks you out, then you will know that he cares about what is in your heart, and not the shell around it."

"That's what I've been telling you," Gina confirmed. "And if boys are going to be intimidated by me, what will they be like with you, River? God, you are so gorgeous. I thought your hair was hot before, but now ... past your bum. Oh wow. I think maybe I'll have to become a lesbian."

"Enough of that," River said with a laugh. The three girls sat on the river bank, admiring the animals playing as they recounted what had happened over the weekend for each of them. Gina and Gail had been delivered to the JR camp early by Gail's mom, and they immediately headed out to find River. River's tale was unbelievable to the girls, but with living proof in front of them they had to admit that all was true.

"What time is it," Gail finally asked. Gina looked at her watch, while River glanced at the sun, saying: "About a quarter to nine." Gina confirmed with "16 minutes to nine. How did you do that?"

"It is the sun, it never lies," River said as they all got up and started walking back to the camp. They needed to start at nine, although they knew from experience that some of the kids would be back a few minutes late, so the trucks wouldn't head out until 10 this morning.

As they approached the Waters campsite, they saw Wayne's truck was there. He was holding a sobbing Alison, who looked up when River approached at a run. "It's your Dad, River," she blurted out. "He's in jail!"

River

By Dawn Natelle

Well, this is the end of the twice a week episodes. I'm only halfway through Chapter 5, and then it has to go to Eric for editing. So we won't see it until Monday next week, at earliest. I hope to keep up a weekly schedule until late March, when I go into cataract surgery, and I have no idea if that will wipe me out for writing, or give me spare time to get more done. (Maybe someone who has gone through it can tell me what to expect, in the comments).

I want to say that I am amazed at the support this story has gotten, and both the number of readers, as well as kudos and comments, has kept me encouraged to devote all my spare time to writing more episodes. Thank you.

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CHAPTER 4

So far: River is now a girl, and a revered leader of the people, after a special rite at the river. But her parents are in peril, with her father apparently in jail, and her mother seemingly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

River rushed to her mother, who was close to losing it. "He went home last night, and got in after midnight," Alison sobbed. "He went into the office early, and found it was full of police and accountants. Somebody has stolen several million dollars from the company accounts, and Dale was accused of being involved."

"We have to get you down there," River declared. "I'll look after the boys. But Dad took the van. How do we get you there?" She looked at Wayne.

"I've got a couple cousins who aren't working," he said. Wayne has dozens of cousins. "If you guys pay the gas, then they'll drive Alison down in their truck. It isn't much to look at, but it'll make the trip to Toronto and back."

"To Toronto will be enough," Alison said, starting to calm down as River poured energy into her from the river. "I'm not coming back without Dale. He didn't do it. He is the most honest man I've ever met."

"I know, Mom. You get down there and do whatever it takes, even if it is just holding his hand while he works this out. I know he will. The three of us will be fine up here."

"No, you are too young," Alison said. Then she stopped and looked at her new daughter, who had changed physically, but had also matured so much. "No, maybe you can. Can you call every night to let us know how you are doing?"

"The office is open until ten each evening," Wayne said. "She will be able to make a call from the landline there at what? Eight-thirty?"

"That should work," River said. "The boys will be able to stay up until 10 ... if they are good for me." She was looking at Mark as she said that, and he nodded. "We'll make our call, and then we can do a fire and smores." Both boys smiled.

Alison looked at her daughter. The girl was clever. The boys had been going to bed at 9, and complaining about it. She felt more and more assured that River could look after the boys and herself while she was in Toronto.

Wayne drove off and went to find his cousins. River remembered meeting them at the rite on Sunday, and if she was not mistaken, they were both cousins, but from different branches of the family. They were actually second cousins to each other, although both were first cousins to Wayne. They were also dating. Rod was a roller-coaster fanatic, and Ria also liked amusement parks, so no doubt the two will spend some time at Canada's Wonderland, the park located a few miles from the Waters house north of Toronto. River was glad that one of the two was a female, which would make her mother more comfortable on the long trip.

While waiting for Wayne to return, she told Alison about her travelling companions as they packed a small travel bag for her. It calmed her mother down a bit to know that River knew them. Rod was a bit of a drifter, working in the fall as a hunting guide, and driving a snow plow under contract to keep the TransCanada Highway through the town and reserve clear in winter. He didn't own the plow, but worked second shift for the driver who did. Ria, on the other hand, was the stable one in the relationship. She was a waitress for the travel stop on the highway, and like many of the other women of the people, was quite a bit overweight. She was not lazy though, something that couldn't be said of Rod, and often put in long shifts at the cafe. That would ensure that she would be able to beg a few days off to make the trip to Toronto.

A few minutes later two pickups drove onto the site: Wayne was in the newer JR truck, with his new wolf next to him in the passenger seat. The other two people were in a 1988 Ford pickup that looked like a clown car, with almost every part of the body a different color, or covered in Bondo. Alison just grabbed her bag and slid in next to Ria. They pulled out a few seconds later, with Alison not even looking back at River and the boys as they waved her off.

"Your Dad will be okay," Wayne said, wrapping his arm over River's shoulders.

"It isn't Dad I'm worried about," River said. "Are you sure that truck will last all the way to Toronto? It looks like something that came out of Dr. Frankenstein's auto body shop."

Wayne laughed. "Rod is not too worried about what it looks like, but he has the thing running perfectly. I don't know if you noticed, but the tires are good, and there was no smoke coming out of the tailpipe. He keeps the engine in top shape. It's clean inside too, although that is due more to Ria than Rod."

River barely heard what he was saying. She was just enjoying his arm around her, and nestled her head into his muscular chest.

"Now, what about the JRs?" Wayne continued. "I can release you for a couple days ... you just won't get your $20 on Friday. Or I can assign you and the girls to the river for the week. I can't believe how much crap you pulled out on Sunday alone. I'll bet there is another week of work in cleaning up for the three of you, and two junior JRs."

"The river please," River said quickly, not wanting to move out of the comfortable position she was in.

"Boys ... if you work hard for River this week, then you will earn $20 each," Wayne said, turning to them. Both boys' eyes opened wide. There weren't many chances for 10-year-olds to make that kind of money in the summer.

"And what about you girls?" Wayne asked Gail and Gina, who had been waiting around through all the drama. "Do you want to work with River and the boys?"

"Sure," Gina said, and Gail nodded. "Mostly I want to see how much closer the two of you can get to each other before you merge into one being." Gail giggled.

Wayne realized how he had been holding River, and broke away with a red face. "Oh ... sorry. I just ... Well, I mean ... Look, I have to get to the camp and see the other JRs. I'll leave River to look after you guys."

With that, he got into his truck and drove off, his spinning tires hinting at his embarrassment.

"Thanks a lot, Gina," River said with a smirk. "I was kinda enjoying that."

"Oh I know," Gina laughed. "We could see it on your face. So what's up boss?"

"I don't know, but I'll try to find something really icky for you," River laughed. "To the river."

"To the river," the girls giggled.

"To the river," the boys repeated as they fell in behind the girls.

At the river they walked past the area that River had cleared on Sunday, and continued down river. There were fewer large garbage items thrown into the water, but still many broken and intact glass containers. Wayne dropped by with the truck shortly and delivered a stack of recycle bins, which worked out well, since they didn't find any more fruit baskets until late in the day. Night, Wayne's wolf, had ridden beside him in the cab, but quickly jumped out, allowing the boys to romp and play with him a bit before Wayne called him back to the truck and headed out.

River spent the morning neck deep in the mid river, which led her directly to hidden glass and metal objects, sometimes buried deep in the mud so firmly that she had to spend several minutes underwater working the item loose, sometimes having to draw strength from the river to enable her to free it. Once, the first time Mark noticed her dive down like this, he thought she had drowned when she didn't come up for three or more minutes. He panicked and was sure she had died, when she finally burst forth with a long car bumper from a 1930s car.

River had to go to the distraught boy and hug him, and convince him that his new sister was okay. Once he was calmed, she went back to where she had dropped the bumper, and hauled it to the shore. Wayne could load it on the truck when it next came, the girls decided.

The other two girls were wading in the water, not even up to their knees, and the boys stayed on the bank, taking items the other three found and placing them in bins, running back to get new bins when the others were filled, and generally helping out.

The five filled four recycle bins through the morning, and the boys began to get hungry. River looked at the sun, and pronounced it not yet 11 a.m. About that time Wayne came by and picked up bins and the odd item like the bumper, and placed them in the bed of the truck.

"Lunch is just an hour away," he told them when the truck was loaded. "You've done a lot today. Do you want to break early?"

The boys nodded, and both girls begged River to agree, but she said no, they would work another hour before eating. Surprisingly, her crew agreed and continued working without complaint after Wayne and Night left.

Eventually River declared that it was noon, and told the others that they should join her in mid river. There was a sand spit here, where the water was only a few feet deep and all five sat down on the sandy bottom and rested. The river kept the water warm near them, and River started her song, drawing a family of otter to the bank near them. They spent almost a half hour watching the cute animals cavorting and playing on the bank, where they had made a slide and took turns sliding in the water.

"That looks like fun," Gina said. "It ... hey, are you staring at my breasts?" She asked Mark.

The boy reddened. "Well, they are pretty ... and I can't stare at my sister's boobies, can I."

River nearly choked even though they weren't eating. "You little pervert," she accused her brother, laughing.

"She's not my sister," Paul blurted out, and River realized that the other boy had been staring at her.

"You too? Both perverts. You are only 10. You shouldn't like staring at girls yet," Gina said.

"Well, we do," Mark said. "What is it like, having them?"

"I dunno," Gina said. "Mine started about the time I was your age, and they grew so slowly that I never really noticed anything. When they just started they were itchy, sore, and stuff, but later I only noticed them getting bigger as they grew and I needed a new bra size."

"For me it was much quicker," River said. "But I think the river was helping me get used to them. I did notice them jiggling a bit from time to time, especially today now that they are bigger. And I notice them when I go down into the water. The water sort of flows around them differently. Why, do you guys want a pair? I can ask the river to oblige you."

"Boobies on me? No way," Mark blurted out.

"I dunno," Paul said thoughtfully. "It would be kinda neat, able to touch them whenever you want."

"Yuck," Mark said. "I know what. You get boobies and then let me touch them."

"It doesn't work that way, Tiger," River said. "If Paul got boobies, he'd be Paula, and she wouldn't want some boy touching them."

"No way," Paul said. "I would like boobies, but only for a day or two. I wouldn't want to be a girl though. Yuck."

The girls all laughed at the naive antics of the boys. River then got an idea. She waded over to the bank, and slid down on the mud, laughing with glee. "I'm an otter," she called.

"I want to be an otter too," Mark said, and he, then the other three got in line and took turns sliding down the bank, laughing hysterically. The otters didn't leave the area though, and took their own turns, chittering noisily if one of the kids tried to cut in line. When Mark cut in, the otter next in line jumped on his chest and rode him into the river like a surfboard. After that the otters would only ride the kids down, and all of them had great fun for a while.

"Time to get back to work," River said when she found it was 1 p.m. "Come on into the water and rinse off."

"But we didn't eat," Mark protested.

"Are you hungry?" River asked.

"No, but ..."

"And you had a lot of fun instead of eating," River said. "The river nourishes us, and it has been very pleased with how much work we have done to clean it up. It fed us as we played."

"Neat," Mark said.

"Oh, these jeans will never clean off," Gail noted as she waded into the river. "We must have ground the mud into them super bad."

Nonetheless, when they came out of the water to resume working, they discovered that their jeans and other clothes were bone dry, and cleaner than they had been at the start of the day. "This river of yours is a great dry cleaner," Gina quipped to River.

"It is not my river, but our river," River said as she got the group back into working mode.

When Wayne and Night came by at the end of the day, he found the five having a water fight in the middle of the river. "What is this? My crew goofing off all day?" he teased.

"Goofing off?" River said with mock indignation. "I'll have you know we worked until five o'clock. It isn't our fault that our ride was late."

"Sorry, sorry. Anyway, I know you have been working. We are more than five miles from the main road, and I've had to dump out recycle bins into our large bin to have enough for tomorrow. I called our recycle guy to empty the big bin early tomorrow. But it looks like you guys have finished."

"Well," River said. "We have cleared this side of the river. It is getting longer and longer between things to dig out. I don't think many campers have come this far, and not many of the people come here either, at least ones that will be careless and throw things into the water. But we aren't done. We still have to do the other side of the river tomorrow, and Wednesday and Thursday we will do the two sides on the other direction from the road. I don't know what we will do Friday."

"You probably could take Friday off," Wayne said proudly. "You are the hardest working team I have. But something tells me that River will come up with another task that lets her get into the water."

River got into the cab, much to Night's dismay. Then the wolf relented and allowed her to sit there. But the wolf refused to allow any others to join them, so Gail and Gina and the boys got into the truck bed, amongst the recycle bins, for the ride back to camp. Wolf promptly put his head down on River's lap and purred like a cat.

Wayne dropped River and the boys at their campsite and then took the girls back to the JR camp. River fixed hotdogs and beans for the boys, who ate enough to make up for a missed lunch. They had only had a few minutes in the water after five, so hadn't been nourished again by the river.

"I guess we need to walk down to the office," River said when it got to be eightish. "We need to call Mom."

"Aw, I'm tired," Mark whined.

"Don't you want to talk to Mom?"

"Yeah, but ... okay."

"Can I stay here?" Paul asked.

"I dunno. Do you want to stay here all by yourself? We could be more than an hour before we get back," River said.

Paul thought a few seconds, and then discovered that his fear of being alone in the camp outweighed his tiredness. "No, I will go with you guys," he said hesitantly.

However they only walked to the end of the lane when they saw Wayne approach in the truck. There were now two wolves on the front seat. "I thought you hard workers would like a ride," he said as he shooed the wolves into the bed. You boys ride back here with our new friends. You know Night, and this other fellow is Jerome, Rod's wolf. I'm looking after him while he is in Toronto with your Mom." Jerome was one of the half-grown wolves, and not as scary looking as Night, who the boys had played with during the day whenever Wayne had come to their worksite. They eagerly crawled into the truck bed, and Night landed on Mark's lap, and Jerome nestled atop Paul, who started stroking his new friend.

In the cab with River, Wayne explained: "I'm going to leave the wolves at your camp tonight to protect you and the boys. Not that I don't think you can't look after yourself, but I know you like to go to the river pretty early. This way you will be able to go, and the wolves will look after the sleeping boys."

"Cool, I thought I was going to miss my early morning charge up," River said. "Thanks."

At the office, River made the phone call to her Mom. She learned that her Dad had been released in early morning, and by late afternoon there were signs that the case against him was falling apart. He was actually there, on speaker phone. Apparently the owners of the company had absconded with the money, and left evidence that pointed at Dale. But Dale was able to pick apart some of the evidence, while other bits were just foolish. He told River that he felt that the police investigators were now just being stubborn. He hoped that by tomorrow, or the next day at the latest, he would be allowed to come back to the camp.

Then Mark took his turn, regaling his parents with what he had done during the day. When Alison got back on the phone with River, she was laughing so hard it was hard to talk. "Well, I certainly made the right decision leaving him with you. It sounds like he has had more fun today than he has had all vacation so far. Paul is well?"

"Yeah, but both of them are so tired that they look like they will fall asleep standing up. I really worked them today. See you tomorrow?" River asked hopefully.

"Probably not, honey," Alison said. "But give us a call at this time, and we can let you know if we have any more word."

"Bye Mom, Dad," River said, hanging up the phone.

"How much do we owe for the call," River asked the clerk.

"Let's see," the First Nation's lady at the counter said. "It comes to zero dollars and zero cents, when we apply the leader discount. I was at your ceremony Sunday, and learned to speak the language of my forefathers. My eldest son is completely changed by that experience. He is proud to be one of the people now, and speaks Ojibwe whenever he can. I worried about him before, but now he, and all his friends have such a positive outlook. And you want to pay us?"

"It was the river that did all that," River explained. "I don't deserve any credit."

The woman snorted. "Sure. But you are the rivertalker, and you will get all kinds of credit from me and the rest of your people. Now go. Your boyfriend has put the sleepy boys in the truck."

"He's not my boyfriend," River said quietly, as she headed out the door.

Wayne had put the boys in the truck, and they had immediately fallen asleep. Mark was using Night as a pillow, and Rob was nestled next to the smaller Jerome. River smiled when she saw the sleeping boys, and the wolves both looked at her. 'We will protect them,' Night said wordlessly to her. River shook her head. Had he spoken to her, or was it just a feeling in her head making up the words?

Wayne drove them back to the campsite, and then carried the boys one at a time into their tent, without either of them wakening at all. The wolves followed, and as River watched from the tent flaps, each wolf turned around three times next to its boy, and then curled up next to the boy. Both animals were facing the tent entrance. "Thank you," River said to them.

Wayne and River were alone in the campsite. In the summer sun it was not dark yet. Wayne looked as though he wanted to say something, and hesitated. Acting on impulse, River reached up and pulled the tall youth down and kissed his cheek. That really flustered Wayne, and he backed off, getting into his truck quickly. But before he closed the door he touched his cheek and said "Thank you."

As River watched the truck drive away, she wondered about what she had just done. It was too soon. It was something she never should have done. But it felt so good, so right. She crawled into her tent and soon was asleep.

It was another cloudy and dark night when River awoke. About 2 a.m. She realized that she could also tell the time by the stars and moon, even when they were obscured by clouds. She peeked into the boys' tent, and saw the fiery eyes of both wolves snap open. She smiled at them, and softly said: "Keep them safe." She swore that both wolves nodded as they lay next to their young charges.

River walked in the pitch dark to the river, and entered its peaceful embrace.

Back at the campsite Paul woke first, and hugged Jerome when he realized the wolf was there. Night opened his eyes, but did not move as Mark was still asleep. Paul got up quietly, and then made an urgent trot to the washrooms, with Jerome walking alongside.

After they got back, Paul made enough noise coming in to wake Mark, who lay in his sleeping bag, nuzzling Night. Then he suddenly realized that he too had an urgent need to visit to the washroom. He headed off, with Night trotting alongside.

Back at the river, River realized that the boys were up, and headed back to make them a breakfast. Just as she was getting out of the river, she got a message from it: "Danger. Urgent. Hurry." River started running, as fast as she could, back to the campsite.

Mark sighed with relief as he finished his business. Suddenly, he felt someone was watching him. Looking toward the door, he saw a tall, skinny man of about 30 staring at him. Staring at his penis. Mark quickly turned away from the man and zipped up.

"Are you all alone," the man said in a whiney voice.

"N ... no," Mark said. "My Dad ... no, my Mom is just coming."

The man seemed to catch the lie. "Well your Mom can't come in here ... even if she was close." He walked up to Mark and put a clammy hand on his shoulder. "Want to have some fun?"

River

By Dawn Natelle

Sorry, I can't promise a chapter for next Monday. I haven't gotten anywhere with Chapter 6 yet, and my upcoming surgery is laying heavy on my mind. Thanks to my editor Eric for working on this series with me. His help has been invaluable in making the story as clear as it is.

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CHAPTER FIVE

So far: Camping can be dangerous, as Mark learns when he is accosted by a strange, creepy man in the camp washrooms. River is minutes away, running faster than she ever has in her life. She doesn't know what is wrong, but the river has told her that Mark is in danger. She needed to get to the camp, find out where Mark is, and then get to the washrooms before the young boy is scarred for life. There isn't enough time.

(Warning, this episode deals with pedophilia, and if this may be a trigger issue for you ... you have been warned.)

Henri Lawson had left Hull, Quebec, in a hurry, heading west. He had hitch-hiked when he could, taken the bus when he needed to, and camped out in a small pup tent each night he wasn't travelling. It was a small tent, big enough for him ... and a small person, if he could find one. His sleeping bag was also big enough to share with someone small. Someone who would love him. Someone he could love.

Henri was attracted to young boys. He knew that most people were repulsed by the idea, and their hatred bothered him. But he couldn't stop, any more than a normal man could stop being attracted to women. It was a natural thing ... to him ... and besides, the boys wanted it. At least that is what he told himself. How could they not want to share the love he felt for them? Except so far his luck had been bad, and the boys turned out wrong, somehow. They didn't return his love, and tried to run away, and sent the police after him.

In Hull he had gone to church, and sat waiting for a priest to hear his confession. He told the priest all. It had been a priest who had first introduced him to man-boy love, over 20 years ago, fondling his tiny penis under his altar boy robes. He had loved that old man, who later was suddenly transferred to somewhere in northern Quebec when Henri was about 11. Now Henri asked forgiveness of the young priest in the confession booth. Forgiveness for whatever it was that had made the boys turn out wrong so far. It must be the boys who had been wrong, it couldn't be him. God had made him this way ... how could God do wrong?

The priest didn't absolve his sins, but told him to wait while he went to the washroom for a minute. Five minutes later Henri slipped out of the confessional, and then out of the church itself. He was a block away when he saw the police cars pull up, lights flashing, in front of the church. He watched the officers, three men and a woman, run up the many steps to the church entrance. Henri ducked around a corner. The police had come for him, he realized. The priest had violated the sanctity of the confessional, and had called the police on him. How could such a bad person become a priest?

That was when Henri left town. It had taken him three days to get to St. Mary's. Hitchhiked to North Bay, then a bus over night to Sudbury, and then he found a trucker headed all the way to Vancouver, a city he hoped would be more conducive to his lifestyle than conservative Quebec had been. But the driver had kicked him out in St. Mary's when he stopped for gas at the reserve gas bar. He said that Henri "creeped him out." Henri didn't mind. He could find another way west.

It was early evening, so Henri paid the $15 for a no-services campsite in the nearby park. He had only intended to stay for the night, but that evening he had seen a family come in and camp close to his site. There were three boys in the family, with a mother and father. Three completely delectable boys. The oldest was a young teen, and normally would have attracted Henri's eye instantly. But he was a blonde, with somewhat girlish features, which was a turn-off to Henri. But the other two ... they were about 10, and so beautiful. Completely boyish, thin and wiry, roughhousing with each other as they ran about wildly exploring the campsite while the other three set up the camp. They were clearly not related, and the same age.

Henri hid in his tent when they tore past his site in their exploration, revelling in the sound of their high, boyish voices, giggling and laughing. Henri instantly decided to stay longer in the campsite, at least until the rangers kicked him out for overstaying. He started to fantasize about not one, but two young boys frolicking with him in his sleeping bag. Henri crawled into the bag, but not to sleep.

Now it was early morning, several days later. He had seen the boys many times over the past few days, but always together. He wanted them both, but figured it would be easier to approach them one at a time. This morning he thought he had missed his chance, when he saw one of the boys walking back from the washroom with a big dog. He cursed himself for being a few minutes too late. Then he saw the other boy approaching, with a bigger dog. Henri hid behind a tree just outside the washroom until the boy had passed. The boy went in, and the dog sniffed once at the door, and then walked around the washroom building. Henri slipped in behind the boy.

He watched as the boy peed, his beautiful little penis in full view as he used the open urinals. Henri felt emboldened. The boy looked at him, and then coyly turned and zipped up.

"Are you all alone," Henri asked softly.

"N ... no," the boy said. "My Dad ... no, my Mom is just coming."

He was teasing him, Henri decided. "Well your Mom can't come in here ... even if she was close." He walked up to Mark and put a hand softly on his shoulder, revelling in the thinness, the weakness, of the young boy. "Want to have some fun?"

The boy pulled back, playing hard to get, and Henri made another grab for him, stopping only when he heard a growl at the door to the building. Looking up, he saw the big dog ... no, he realized, that was a wolf. And it was showing all of its teeth in a menacing way.

A wolf?! How does a wolf appear in the middle of a campsite? Henri felt a warmth spread through his groin. Damn. He had always heard that you should never show fear in front of a wild animal, and yet he had pissed his pants.

Then, to his surprise, the boy ran to the wolf and wrapped its arms around the animal's neck. He does want me, Henri thought. He is holding the wolf off. If we can get away, then we will be lovers forever.

Just then a girl dashed into the doorway behind the wolf. Another person to save him. But the girl was angry. She looked a bit like the blonde boy Henri had seen that first night, but this was definitely a girl, with breasts and a long braid down her back. Not appealing to Henri at all.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, out of breath as if she had been running. She turned to the boy: "Did he touch you?"

The little angel nodded yes.

"We were just going to have some fun," Henri said, hoping the girl could understand and take that wolf away. It continued to growl at him menacingly. "He likes me."

"No I don't," the boy said vehemently. "He was staring at me pee. Then he grabbed my shoulder. He was going to grab again, until Night came in."

The girl's face showed recognition about what Henri had planned, and then darkened. "I should let Night rip you apart," she said disgustingly.

Henri slumped to the floor, sitting in the puddle of his own urine, as another person burst into the room. He was in a uniform, and Henri thought he was with the police for a second, then noticed that it was a brown uniform. He stared as the girl explained to the man what had happened. His face darkened even more than hers had. And the wolf still growled at him, with saliva now dripping from its fangs.

"Come on," the man said. "We have a little lockup at the office, and we'll call the police from there."

"No, wait," the girl said. "He is sick."

"Yes sick," the man said. "They will cure him of it at the penitentiary."

"No. I want the river to try first. If it can't cure him, then we can call in the police."

The man was a native, Henri realized. He looked apprehensive, but the girl seemed to have some power over him. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "You can try. But he is not of the people. The river may not want to cure him."

The Indian grabbed Henri's arm and roughly hauled him to his feet. They were about the same height, but the man was nearly twice Henri's weight, and much younger. He winced at the smell of Henri, and muttered: "At least the river can clean him up a bit."

Henri was walked out of the washroom with the big man holding one arm, and the wolf walking along the other side, ready to pounce if Henri could break free. Not that Henri tried. The man's hand was like a vice. The girl and the pretty little boy walked a bit behind.

At the boy's campsite they met the other boy, and the smaller wolf, for Henri now recognized it as a nearly grown wolf, not a big dog. The two boys were told to stay at the camp with the smaller wolf, and after the girl had given the boy a hug and a kiss, the man, the girl, and the wolf walked Henri down to where he knew the river was.

The girl stepped into the river first, and then the big Indian forced Henri into the water. On his second step in he heard a shout of ‘NO!' inside of his head. Ice formed around his legs, and he jumped back from the cold. There was a quarter inch thick piece of ice several inches in diameter around each leg. It melted in the early morning warmth, but he could still feel the tingle of the cold river water, minutes later.

The girl was still in the water. She looked as though she was arguing with someone, although Henri couldn't see who, and she made no sound. He didn't understand how she managed to stand in that freezing water. There didn't look to be ice forming around her, but her legs were clearly cold, and she was shivering from the water.

Finally the argument seemed to be over. "Send him back in, Wayne," she said.

"Are you sure, River?"

"No, it is too cold," Henri whimpered.

"It will be cold," the girl said. "The river is not in a mood to warm either of us. It really doesn't want to do this, but has agreed to try. Now get in and wade out here to me."

The girl was nearly in the middle of the river now, having waded further out. The water was just under her breasts. Henri took a step in, then stepped back. Night growled, and Henri stepped back in, feeling the cold would be less painful than a wolf attack. He gritted his teeth against the cold, and walked out to where the girl was standing.

Once he was next to the girl, she reached out and placed her hands, one atop his head and the other on his shoulder, and pushed down. Henri fought it. She clearly intended to drown him. But the girl was astonishingly strong. She held him tightly by the shoulder, and he could not fight the pressure on his head. He held his breath as long as possible, but finally had to take a breath.

He could breathe. He was underwater, but he could breathe. He opened his eyes. The water was clear, and he could see the legs of the girl standing a foot away, and then watched as she backed further away. He turned and looked the other direction, and saw that there was a dark, murky ichor oozing out from him. For a few feet it spread into the river water, and then as the current grabbed it, it coalesced into a long, twisty black cord heading downstream.

The girl was no longer holding him down, having stepped a few paces away to keep clear of the black coming out of his body. But Henri did not try to stand up. Suddenly it hit him how wrong his life had been to this point. He was not loving those boys. He was abusing them. They didn't enjoy his touches, they abhorred them. He was a pedophile, and for the first time in his life he hated himself for it. Still the blackness oozed out of his body. It was the evil within him.

The black continued to ooze out, slowly tapering off. Before it even stopped, Henri heard another unspoken command: ‘GET OUT!' He and the girl both waded off to the riverbank and crawled out. Both crawled a few paces up, and then lay down curled in tight balls.

At first Henri thought it was only the cold that made him feel that way, but then he realized that he was the most despicable being on the earth. He wanted to kill himself. He thought about going back into the river, but could he even drown himself? It seemed like he had spent an hour under the water. He looked around for the wolf, hoping it might dispatch him, but it was curled up next to the sobbing girl, warming her, and the Indian was standing over her, ignoring him. He could flee now, but he had absolutely no interest in doing so. He just wanted to die.

He listened to the girl sob: "It hates me. I forced it to do this, and it hates me now. I have lost the river. I made all the evil within him come out, and polluted the river with it. It will never speak to me again. I ... I can't even feel it, and it is only five feet away. I have lost it. I have lost everything. I just want to die."

"No," shouted the Indian. "You mustn't think that way ... I ... I love you. There is more than just the river. You can survive this."

"I love you too, Wayne," she sobbed. "But ... the river ... how can I live without it."

"You can. You will. He curled up next to her and hugged her, sobbing with her.

Then Henri noticed something odd. He felt down and discovered that his undersized penis was gone. He started taking off his sodden clothes, and soon was naked. Looking down, he was clearly female in that area. She noticed some spots of blood down there, and then was hit by a crippling cramp that caused her to fall back to the ground as pain wracked through her body.

‘This is your curse, your punishment for what you have done,' a voice said within his head. ‘You are female now, although not a pretty one. For one week every month you will suffer as a woman, much worse and much longer than any real woman. If the courts had convicted you, your sentence could have been 25 years, but it is unlikely you would have lived a year in prison. Now life is your prison, and you must serve your full time. You have the body, almost, of a woman, but the mind of a man, and you will be unable to take any treatments for that. You are not a pretty woman, and while you currently will have no interest in men, that might change. You can get pregnant, but you cannot give birth. Any child you conceive will die in your womb. Maybe after a month or two, maybe at full term. You will not feel the joy of children, as payment for the joy you have stolen from so many children in your life. You must leave this town within two days and never return. Go east, go west, but never again cross the river."

The cramping continued, fluctuating between crippling and merely horrible, but Henri crawled over to the bank to look and see what her reflection would show. Her face was unclear in the reflection, but her hair seemed different. Her body was still long and lanky. She was still 6'2" tall, but even thinner. Looking down at herself, she saw that her chest was completely flat. Her nipples were a bit larger, about halfway to looking female. With breasts they would pass as normal, but on her flat chest they looked boyish. She had a bit of a waist, but her hips and bum looked like that of an anorexic teen. Her legs were less hairy than before, but not the smooth shapely ones that most women had.

She sobbed, and then another cramp hit.

River looked up at her, noticing the changes in the now naked woman, particularly the blood. "What happened to you?"

"I ... the river changed me," she said. "He ... it said this is my punishment."

"It ... it spoke to you?" the girl wailed. "You are the new rivertalker?" She sobbed more deeply than ever before for a few seconds.

"No," Henri said. "It just was ... passing sentence. I have been banished from this place. The river said it is just not talking to you now."

"Now? You mean it might talk to me again later?" Henri was confused, both by the conversation about rivertalkers, and the obvious relief that the girl showed. She turned to the man, and said something softly, and he and the wolf trotted off down the river, to Henri's relief.

The girl went to a bag she had dropped by the edge of the river earlier, and brought it over to Henri, who was still standing, still naked, still bleeding, and still fluctuating between barely tolerable cramps, and much worse ones.

"We are going to have to look after you," the girl said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out two items. "This is a tampon, which we will use now, and this is a pad, which we will come to later. What's your name dear?"

"Henri," she replied in her softer voice. "Although perhaps Henrietta would be more appropriate now."

"Henrietta is not a very pretty name," the girl said. "You could pick something nicer."

"I am not a very pretty person," Henrietta said. "And I haven't been very nice in the past. I just wish I could kill myself and get it over with. I feel horrible about what I have done."

"No," the girl shouted. "You will stop thinking that way. The river went through a lot to cleanse you, and it ...," she choked up for a second, "it may have cost me a great deal as well. The fact that you now feel bad about your past means you are cured, and I hope you will take advantage of the opportunity."

"Now, you take this wrapper off ..." she said, and the most embarrassing half hour of Henrietta's life began.

When the hygiene lesson was over, Henrietta was no longer bleeding, although the cramps were just as bad as ever.

"I'd have you go into the river to wash your legs off," the girl said, "except I don't think the river wants to deal with either of us right now. Luckily I have some water in my canteen, and if I can find a rag ..."

She went and picked up a birchbark container and spilled a bit of water from it on what had been Henri's jockey shorts. They were bloody at the crotch, but she used the band areas and wetted her legs and washed away the blood. When she was finished, she looked at the bloody rag, and went to the river to rinse them out ... but then paused.

"I don't think the river wants to deal with me right now," she sobbed. "I just feel disgust coming from it. We'll carry this back to the campsite and dispose of it there. "Come on. We need to get you some dry clothes that fit." She reached into her bag and found a spare pair of panties. "It never hurts to have a spare handy."

Henrietta stepped into the panties. They were a bit loose on her, but the stretch was sufficient to stay up. Her rear was much thinner than the girl, although their waists were about the same. It felt odd to Henrietta that she no longer had a bulge in the front, as small as it had been.

She then pulled on her damp jeans, which still fit pretty well. The t-shirt was nearly dry, and it covered her top up. "You don't really need a bra," the girl said. "You should look at a camisole or softer undershirt to prevent nipple rub, if you don't. I don't think there will be any bras for sale in your size. Maybe in a bigger city, or on the Internet."

Henrietta then slipped into her running shoes, which fit perfectly. "They fit?" the girl seemed incredulous. "Women usually have smaller feet. When I changed into a girl my feet dropped four sizes."

"You were a boy?" Henrietta asked with wide eyes. "What did you do to make the river do that to you?"

"Actually, I kinda wanted it," the girl said sadly. "It was giving me so much more as a girl. I only hope that I haven't lost it all. I still feel like a girl though. I don't know if that will go away now though." She sobbed a bit, then seemed to will her sorrow away.

She whistled, and a few seconds later the man and the wolf returned. They walked to the pickup truck, and Henrietta was able to look at herself in the rear view mirror. She was not pleased at what she saw. She knew her body was boyish, except in one key area, but she saw that her face was not much changed. She still had the huge nose that had been too big for a male face, and now looked ridiculous on a female one. Not that it looked very female. The chin was still big, and with a cleft. Her beard was gone, and as she felt the smooth throat, which once had a huge Adam's apple. Her hair was a couple inches longer in the back, but in the front she had bangs covering what had once been a bald forehead and top of the head.

"I'm ugly," she thought. "This is my punishment. A male brain in a female body that is so ugly that no man or woman will ever want to love it." To her credit, she didn't even consider seeking love with children. The river had burned that desire from her, and left her as repulsed by the idea as most other people were.

They drove into the park, stopping for a second at the boys' campsite, where an elderly woman was making a breakfast for the boys, with the smaller wolf watching over them. The boy she had approached was hugging it closely as he continued to sob. The girl went out to talk to them. Henrietta wanted to get out and say she was sorry, but something told her that this would only cause the boy more hurt. Instead she stayed in the back of the truck with the big wolf, and sobbed into her hands. Occasionally her body wracked her with cramps, and they made the sobbing more real. She accepted it as her punishment, and knew it would continue for another six or seven days and then a full week every month.

The girl and the Indian came back and got into the cab, and headed to Henri's campsite. The Indian looked at the camp ticket, and was disgusted to see that it had expired days earlier. Henrietta went into the tent and grabbed her wallet and her money. There was little else she wanted -- everything seemed tainted to her now -- and she climbed back in the truck, telling the man that they could have everything else, to pay for her overstaying.

They drove the truck into town, stopping at a store on one side of the road, where the girl and she entered and purchased some feminine supplies, a small purse, a packet of panties, and a few snacks to eat on the road. Then they drove across the road to the truck stop, where there were five big rigs parked, waiting to get tax-free gas from the reservation pumps. Henrietta and the girl got out, and walked from truck to truck. The girl would stop in front of each and somehow assess it, even without the driver there. "This one will want sex," she said at one. "This one will take sex, whether or not you agree," she announced at the next. At a third truck she stopped with a shudder: "This one will kill you." She looked at Henrietta. "You must never tell them what you did ... you might feel that confession will make things better, but in your case, it won't. It might be fatal."

There was a driver at a fourth truck, getting ready to pull out.

"Excuse me sir," the girl said. "Would you be going west?"

"To Edmonton," he said politely. "Why?"

"Would you take a rider?"

"Oh my darling, you tempt me," he said. "A pretty thing like you? But I am happily married, and there is a company policy. No riders."

"Oh no," she said. "It is not me." She looked at Henrietta.

"Oh," he said, his smile disappearing as he looked at the taller girl. "Well, my wife certainly wouldn't worry about me straying with her, I guess. And the company policy is pretty slack. Look, if you ride, you can sleep in the bunk when I am driving, but when I stop for my sleep you sit in the front. No radio, no talking or singing. I need my sleep. Can you pay for your own meals?"

"Yessir," she said.

"Climb in then," the man said and then he turned to the girl with a bemused expression on his face. "Why am I doing this?"

"Because you are a good person," the girl said, and she turned and left. The man accepted her argument, and then climbed into his cab and left.

River

By Dawn Natelle

Yippee, there is a Chapter 6 now, and there will be a Chapter 7 next week, before I go into the hospital. We may not even miss a week, if I am able to write while recuperating. Thanks again to Eric for editing this ... he found several big (and many small) gaffes in the chapter.

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CHAPTER SIX

So far: River's parents return that evening, only to discover what happened this morning. Dale is adamant that he will kill the molester, even if it means going back to jail again. River, however, is dejected and mopish as the river continues to ignore her.

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River and Wayne were silent as they drove back into the park from the town. After they crossed the little covered bridge, River sobbed twice, and then broke out into tears. Wayne quickly pulled over, and then slid along the bench seat to envelop the young girl in his strong arms. She leaned into him, but was unable to do anything but sob for several minutes.

"It is gone," she finally said amidst her sobs. "I have felt the river ever since I first rolled across that bridge, but there is nothing now. It is completely gone."

Wayne wanted to respond, but everything he could think to say seemed wrong. So instead he took the common route of the First Nations' man, and remained silent. Finally River seemed to sob herself out.

"I'm okay," she said. "No I'm not, but there isn't anything we can do about it. Drive us back to the campsite. I have to check on the boys. Edith is looking after them, along with Jerome, the wolf."

Back at the camp, they found more people than expected. Not only were Edith and the smaller wolf there, but also River's parents. Dale looked as though he was ready to go ballistic.

"Where is that bastard?" he roared as Wayne and River got out of the truck. "I'll kill that bast..."

"Now Dale," Alison said, hoping to calm down the husband she had just gotten out of one jail. "Let's listen to River."

"Thanks Mom. Dad, I know you are upset, but the river has already cured Henri, who is now Henrietta. The river changed him into a woman, and not in a good way. It also took all the evil out of her soul."

They explained what had happened, and River thanked Edith for watching the boys through the day, although she said that Jerome had done the most to calm them. The smaller wolf was now joined by Night, and now each boy was hugging a wolf. Then River stopped talking, and turned to the river.

"Come."

She turned back to the others with a look of ecstatic glee on her face. "It is the river," she nearly sang, "It wants me back. It just called me. It wants me back." And with that she sped off towards the river, running at top speed.

The others all followed more slowly, and when they arrived at the river they found River in mid-river, up to nearly her neck, with a huge grin splitting her face from ear to ear.

"The river is clean now," she shouted to her family and the two First Nations members. "It couldn't speak to me when the evil from Henri was still in it. The ... stuff ... that came from him was too strong. The river balled it up into a small package, and then floated it down to the lake. But the lake wouldn't take it, and refused to take any water from the river for a while. That meant that the river flooded a bit at the marina. Before long it looked like a real mess, but the river convinced the lake to take water from the sides, and only hold back the part in the middle which let the water level drop."

With that River dropped down to the river bed, popping her head up a few minutes later with more of the story: "The river finally convinced the lake to take the yuck, and a few minutes ago the river was cleaned. The yuck has moved out into the lake, and will sink to the darkest and deepest place, where it will remain forever, locked up in the ball that the river created. And now the river is talking to me again," she said, rather redundantly.

She looked at the riverbank, and noticed the pale, blank look on her brother's face as he sat there, hugging Night. Paul looked almost as morose, feeling the pain of his best friend.

"Boys," River cried out, "come out into the river."

The two stood slowly, and were nudged by the wolves into the water. As usual, it was bitterly cold for a second, and then warmed for them, as River walked up and hugged them in waist high water. She told them to sit on their knees and let the water come up to their necks. Then she waded upstream a few dozen yards, and called her parents to come in at that point.

Alison and Dale entered the water, and waded out to River, who was again near the middle. "Just let the river cleanse you, as it is cleansing the boys. She left them, with Alison in water up to her breasts, and the taller Dale up to his stomach.

"Come"

River didn't hear that comment from the river, but Edith did. "She waded into the river and waded out to River who had moved to a spot between the boys and her parents, with tears of joy streaming down her face.

"The river spoke to me," she sobbed happily. "It said that it has been long enough, and it forgives me. You are still the rivertalker, but it will speak to me. It talks to me again. I had forgotten how wonderful it feels," she said, hugging River.

About fifteen minutes later River heard giggling from the boys. When she looked at them, she saw Mark point at their parents, who were closely entwined together, kissing furiously with no concern about the others.

"Come on," River shouted, and all six waded to the shore, where Wayne and the wolves had waited.

"You didn't come in," River told him.

"Well, it didn't call me. The river tends to prefer females, and I really didn't want to take a chance that it might decide I look better in a dress." River giggled.

All six were completely dry when they left the cold water. Mark turned back to the water, and said quietly. "Thank you, river." Then he turned to his sister and said: "It doesn't hurt any more. It is still there, but it is like it happened a million years ago. I can be happy again."

River looked closely at her brother. Something was wrong. No. Different. Suddenly she realized that he was about an inch and a half taller, and maybe 15 pounds heavier. He looked more like an 11-year-old than a 10-year-old. It wasn't so noticeable because Paul had matured the same amount.

Then River looked closely at her parents, and got a huge surprise. Her Dad's beer belly was gone, and his hairline seemed lower on his forehead. He looked 10 years younger, 32 instead of 42. And Alison also was changed, now looking too young to be River's mother. She was slimmer and her breasts seemed bigger and higher on her chest. Finally, Edith was the most changed. She looked 20 years younger, now under 65.

"The river has given you all gifts," River said. "The boys are bigger, if not older. And you other three look younger."

"More than just younger," Dale said. "Not only is all the hate I was feeling gone, it has been replaced by love. Love for your Mom. It feels like when we were first dating, except without all the first-date/new romance tensions."

"Yes, River. Can you spend the night with the girls at the JR camp? Your tent is a little too close to ours," Alison said with a lecherous grin.

River caught on right away, although the boys didn't. As she walked them back to the campsite, River told them that if they heard noises from the big tent, they should ignore them, as their parents would be 'kissing'."

"You mean having sex?" Mark laughed, and darted out of the way as River took a mock swing at his head. River was just glad to hear him laughing and joking again.

The next morning River was in the water again before dawn. Was it really only one day she had missed? Less, actually, since she had been at the river yesterday morning when the predator struck. She wandered back to the campsite an hour after dawn, but still long before others were awake. She started the camp stove, and soon had bacon, eggs and toast for her parents, who crawled out of their tents with silly smiles and glowing faces.

"You made breakfast for us," Alison said. River smiled at her mom, who now looked more like an older sister. "Thanks to your river, none of my other clothes fit. Jeans too big, bra too small," she said with a smile.

"I'm sure the river would be happy to take you back to the way you were," River said, as she plated a huge meal for her svelte Dad.

"No way," Alison said, rubbing Dale's new six pack. "And you definitely are not getting this guy back into the water. I've never felt so alive and young."

"Not since the first time we were this young," Dale said. "Your river is a magical thing, honey. And it has completely reignited our love for each other. I'm now out of work, and I should feel depressed. But I have a beautiful wife, a beautiful daughter, a beautiful son, and a beautiful life."

"I'm not beautiful," Mark said as he and Paul stuck their heads out of their tent. The boys had their old jeans on, which the river had altered. But their t-shirts, which they changed daily, were far too tight for their larger bodies.

"You are beautiful to me," Alison said, noticing the ill-fitting clothes. "And it looks like a trip to the store is necessary ... or perhaps a trip to Sault and the malls. We need more than just a few things from the local store."

"Can it wait till Saturday?" River asked. "I have to work today and tomorrow. I've already lost one day this week."

"Can we help again?" Mark asked as he ate his breakfast. Paul was nodding in agreement. "It was fun cleaning the river."

"My son volunteering to work?" Dale queried with a laugh. "Will wonders never cease."

"You will have to talk to Wayne about that," River said. "He did promise you the full week, so perhaps. But he might have other things that we need to do."

It turned out that the girls and River were assigned to clear some more of the river again, and the boys helped, working a long day, but having another fun lunch hour playing with the otters. At the end of the day the boys, who were now stronger, weren't as exhausted as they had been on Tuesday, and Wayne was again impressed at how much they had gotten done.

During the day Gina and Gail learned about the proposed shopping trip to Sault on Saturday, and begged to go with them. Alison and Dale were in agreement, and the girls phoned their parents for permission that evening from the office, getting the okay to spend the weekend at the camp, and at the mall. Saturday would be a busy day, with a four-plus hour drive each way to get to the shopping center.

Harold Redbear, Edith Freedove and Wayne came to the Waters' campsite that evening to speak to River. Apparently there were seven members of the tribe who had not come to the ceremony on Monday. They were in chronic geriatric care in the local hospital, and had been unable to get released for the dawn ceremony. After some discussion, it was decided that tomorrow morning River would get some water in several birchbark canteens to take to the hospital. They would do a ceremonial washing of the patients, and feed them some of the river waters.

The next morning the river told River that her idea of taking its waters to the ill band members was a good one, and infused its healing powers into the water that River gathered. The girls and boys started working without River, who went with Wayne and the elders to the small 40-bed hospital in town. The little hospital had a very liberal visiting hours policy: pretty much all day long. The place didn't have much of an operating theatre. The main activities were births, chronic care, and emergency treatment, with serious patients taken by ambulance in Sault once they were stabilized locally.

The four went immediately to the eight-bed ward where the First Nations elders were housed. Edith had mentioned that four of the seven spoke Ojibwe and three did not, so when River entered the room she said "Welcome honoured elders" in Ojibwe and then English, with a big smile on her face. Six of the elders brightened immediately at having visitors, including young people. One old woman maintained a grumpy, sour looking face.

Harold did not do a sweetgrass cleansing of the ward ... the hospital had banned the practice. However River went from bed to bed to greet and speak for a minute with each of the patients, telling them that, if they liked, they would be bathed with waters from the river, and allowed to drink river water. Most smiled at that and agreed, but the sourpuss, who was the fifth one River spoke to ... in English, seemed less than enthused.

"Who are you to do this," she said grumpily. "Your hair, your skin, you are not one of the people. No outsider can cure us. No more than the quack-quacks here at this place."

"The river accepted me, and speaks to me," River said cheerily. "I hope that you might as well."

The old woman looked at her for a minute, and then the smallest smile crept across her face. "I guess it can't hurt, can it," she said, and her face wrinkled into a bit more of a smile. "Thank you for coming. Our family members told us of the beautiful maiden who had performed the ceremony on Monday. We are glad we have not been forgotten."

The bathing in the river water was not a full sponge bath, but the faces, arms and legs of the elders were each bathed in turn by River, and the elders shivered a bit as the water was applied. Somehow it had stayed ice cold even five hours later. After River finished with the last of the baths, Wayne poured river water into seven glasses, and handed them to the elders as River sang in Ojibwe.

Her song was one of the olden times, in the days of furs and plentiful hunting, when the people lived in lodges made of cedar and ruled the land, as well as tending it. The Ojibwe speakers recognized the words, but even the other three were entranced by the sounds ... the song was a common one that mothers sang to their children in their infancy and while the words were not known to those three, the sound took them back to their youth and they all smiled deeply at the sounds.

Just then a little man of about 60 burst into the room, wearing medical white clothes. He was small, balding and with a significant pot belly. "Who is making such a racket in my hospital," he shouted. Harold shouted "Drink up," and all the elders drank their glass of river water.

"What are they drinking?" the man shouted, nearly apoplexic. "This is a hospital. You can't just feed my patients your medicine man potions."

"It is pure water from the river of the people," River said, having finished her song. "It will cure them."

"River water? Filthy river water?" The man pointed at her in rage: "I'll have you charged with practising medicine without a license. Get these filthy Indians out of my hospital."

At that slur, River's face darkened. "We will leave peacefully. We are a peaceful people. But we do not accept those who mistreat us, in action or in word. You may find that all our people leave your hospital sooner than you think."

With that Harold ushered her, and the rest, out of the hospital. The four stood on the sidewalk outside.

"The river can cure them better than that old hospital," River said. "What if we were to take them back to the reserve? Are there people there that would take them in?"

"Those are the oldest of the elders," Edith explained. "All of them have sons and daughters and grandchildren who would look after them. But would they want to come?"

"We need to take them to the river," River said. "After it heals them as best it can, they can decide if they want to come back, or to take their earned place of honour with their families."

With that, the four headed back to the reserve, with Harold driving, and River sitting on Wayne's lap.

Inside the hospital, the doctor was still raging. He had taken one of the birchbark canteens and drained a bit of the water out of it to send to the lab in the Sault for analysis. It looked clean, but no doubt was full of toxins.

A younger man, about 30, came in and asked what was happening. The doctor started to explain, and the younger man pulled him out into the hallway and away from the patients. The doctor explained, and the younger man became worried.

"Fred, please calm down," Desmond Kraud said. He was the administrator of the hospital, and in the third year of what he hoped was a five-year stay in the north, before starting to apply for more senior positions in larger hospitals in southern Ontario. Working in a leadership role in a northern hospital rather than as a flunky at a bigger place down south was part of his plan to advance his career. Working with the cantankerous old doctor Mitchell was one of the harder parts of his job.

"Fred, we have to treat these folk well," Desmond said. "They represent nearly 20% of the occupancy at the hospital. Those 2500 bed days over a year is what makes this a class D hospital. Without them we could be dropped down to class E, or even closed." He didn't mention that his own salary would be reduced by over $15,000 a year if the hospital rating dropped.

"I don't like it," the crotchety old man said. "When I started here we just treated the Indians at the back door of Emergency. They didn't even come in for maternity, back then. Now they think they have all the rights of a white person."

Desmond was shocked at the prejudice he was hearing from the medical man, but didn't say anything to set him off more. Instead they walked back to his small administrator office and opened a bottle of scotch he had in a file cabinet. The two men helped themselves to a drink, and then another, as they tried to calm themselves down.

After an hour and a half, Desmond put the bottle away, much lighter than it had been. A receptionist burst into the office. "We are having a meeting," Desmond barked. "No interruptions."

"I think you need to come," the girl said. "There are a lot of Indians coming in. And they have wolves."

"Wolves?" the doctor shouted, riled up as badly as before. He tore off to the "Indian Ward", with Desmond right behind.

The two men could not get into the ward at all. There had to be 40 of the people there, with as many more milling about on the street. Dr. Mitchell tried to push his way into the ward, only to be stopped by a menacing growl of a large black wolf. He stepped back, but still maintained his anger.

"You can't bring wild animals into a hospital," he shouted, adding "Dirty Indians" under his breath.

"We will have the 'dirty Indians' out of here shortly," Rod said, as he had heard the slur. "Just sit back and watch us."

"No, no, no," Desmond argued. "You can't just take them away. They have to be discharged, and the doctor has to sign them out.

"And the doctor won't do that, will he?" River said, moving towards the non-natives.

"Not without a full examination, and to see that they are healthy enough to leave," Desmond said. "Maybe in a day or two, one or two of them will be fit to leave."

"Our people do not stay where they are not wanted, when there are places where they are wanted. And these elders look fitter now than they were two hours ago when we came in. All of them are with members of their families, who are taking them away from here," River explained.

"You can't do that," the doctor squealed. "That is kidnapping. I'll have the police after you. And you are the ringleader, girlie." A drop of spittle leaked out of his mouth.

Desmond had now finally gotten his head into the ward. The doctor was still held back by Night's growls and bared teeth. He could see that all his patients were with family members, and several of them had wolves that the patients were kneeling to pet. Where had tame wolves come from, he wondered? Then he looked at Night, and wondered just how tame they were. The patients were a surprise though. All were walking, and all looked better than they had at any time since they had arrived at the hospital ... four years ago in one case. They certainly didn't look like geriatric patients waiting to die. They were hugging and celebrating with their loved ones.

One at the time they walked out of the hospital and were bundled into pickups parked in front. The people waiting on the sidewalk let out a cheer for each of them as they emerged, as if they had just been freed from a long incarceration. Eventually they were all out, and River, Wayne, Harold and Edith emerged last, with Dr. Mitchell nearly frothing at the mouth in anger, and planning to call the Ontario Provincial Police from Terrace Bay.

The convoy of pickups headed back to the park, with First Nations peoples packed into the backs, singing Ojibwe victory songs.

River

By Dawn Natelle

Posting a day early, as I have a busy week planned for next week. And chapter 8 has already been written, and is with Eric, my super-editor, so it will be out next week, probably on Sunday again.

---

CHAPTER SEVEN

So far: River had spent much of the morning in town treating and finally liberating several elders from the local hospital, where they had been encouraged (trapped?) to stay in a scheme rigged by the administration of the hospital to maintain a higher bed count. With the elders freed, River needs to take them to the river, to allow them to be cured in the ceremony that they had missed on Monday.

At the river River pretty much duplicated the ceremony from Monday. After Harold had done a sweetgrass cleansing, the elders were assisted into the water by their relatives. River sang the song of the people and their history, and watched as the elders from the hospital puffed up with pride, remembering their storied past. These older people remembered the days of the 50s and 60s, when First Nations people were treated as second class citizens, made to do their shopping in the local stores before 9 a.m., before the whites would come in. The merchants wanted their money, but not at the risk of offending the white customers. There were no jobs for the people back then other than hunting and fishing. Welfare cheques kept most of them living in subsistence housing, made out of packing crates and other scavenged materials, or log-built homes they made themselves.

It was nearly two hours later when River finished her song, and the river had finished healing the elders, teaching the language to those who hadn't spoken it, and refreshing it for those who hadn't spoken it in years. River's entire song was in Ojibwe, and those elders who had not learned the language in their youth were surprised to find they could understand every word. The river translated it for them, and, as it did, they learned. Not only the words of the song, but much more as well. River was about to lead the group out of the water when she heard a siren in the distance, then approaching closer.

A police cruiser pulled up on the river bank, and an Ontario Provincial Police officer stepped out. Then Dr. Mitchell and Desmond Kraud popped out of the back seat. The doctor still seemed to be in an agitated state. River led the group out of the water, with all the elders walking with much more confidence and ability than they had in entering it.

"She's the one. She's the leader," the doctor shouted, pointing at River. "Arrest her. She kidnapped my patients."

"She's just a child," the officer said in amazement. "She can't be much more than 16 years old."

"Fourteen, sir," River said, walking up to the officer, water dripping from her clothes. As they had left the river, it had told her that coming out dry would confuse the officer and possibly cause trouble. Instead the river had water cling to the outsides of the clothes of the people who were in the river, but leave the inside dry. The water dripping would look natural, but the people would be dry and warm. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I was told that a band of Indians kidnapped some people from the hospital," the officer said.

"We prefer the term First Nations," River said.

"Oh yes, sorry," the officer winced. His training had told him to address natives as such, and he had forgotten, falling back on the term that was used internally in the police station, where the officers were frequently called out to domestic disturbances and drunkenness calls to the many reserves in the area, particularly when the monthly Ontario Works (welfare) cheques came in. Calls to the reserves were not fun for the OPP.

"We did go to the hospital this morning, hoping to do some traditional healing ceremonies for the elders in care there," River said. "We were told we were not welcome to do our ceremonies there, so we decided to bring the elders back here to do the healing. All came on their own accord."

"They weren't released properly. That is kidnapping," the doctor shouted. "And what about the wolves? Look, there is one over there." He pointed to Night, who was laying peacefully at the side of the river, about 50 yards downstream.

"Did you bring your pet wolves into the hospital? And use them to threaten the doctor and Mr. Kraud?"

"No sir. They are not pets. They are friends of the people. A few did come into the hospital with us, but we don't control them. When the doctor got a little agitated in there, it seemed to alarm some of them, and they don't like aggressive behaviour. They tend to get aggressive in response. But that was not us causing it. The doctor caused it by shouting and acting menacingly to us."

"Lies, lies," cried the doctor. "She is telling you lies."

"Are you planning to bring the patients back?" Desmond Kraud asked rather politely.

"Do they look like they are in need of 24-hour care?" River replied, gesturing for the elders to gather around her.

The doctor looked more closely at his former patients, and his agitated state dropped away. He looked at his patients with amazement. They were the same faces, but they looked decades younger. Age spots were smaller, or gone completely. They moved about freely, with a greater range of motion. "What ...?" he asked in amazement. "How ...? What did you do?"

"The traditional ways are important to our people," River said. "Depriving them of traditional healing deprives them of healing that your modern medicine cannot provide. Your pills and treatments often deaden their senses. It makes it easier for you to deal with them in a hospital, but takes them away from the land, which is a part of each of the people. Bringing them to the river cleansed them of those drugs, and restored their connection to the land. They are healthier because of it."

"I ... I don't know," the doctor said. "I must study this. You must bring these people back to the hospital where I can study this."

River giggled. "So you want to take them away from what is making them healthy, and put them back to where they were just waiting to die? How does this help them?"

"But I need to know," the doctor said, in what sounded almost like a whine. "It is important."

"These people are going home with their families. They still have much to give to their children and grandchildren. They are elders, and the lore they hold is invaluable. They need to pass it on to the younger generations. In the hospital they had no purpose. Giving them a purpose is part of what has healed them. I am sure that they will be glad to talk to you and give blood samples and such if you wish for them to come to their new homes."

The doctor harrumphed. "The province does not pay for house calls anymore."

"Well then, I guess you won't be seeing them unless they come into the hospital. And none of them appears to have any need for your medical care at the moment. I'm sure if that changes, we will bring them in to see you."

The doctor started to get agitated again, although seeing his patients looking so healthy kept it from growing to the state it had been. "What about the kidnapping? None of them were released from the hospital."

"I think we can stop using the term kidnapping, when all of them appear to have left on their own accord," the police officer said, and all the elders nodded agreement. "Unless any of them were admitted to the hospital through a court order or some other judicial instrument, then they are not required to continue treatment."

"But they weren't released," Desmond whined.

"Actually, you told me that they offered to be released, but the doctor refused to do so immediately. It seems that one might consider that the hospital was kidnapping them, not the other way around,"

The administrator paled. He hadn't considered that.

"I don't know of any laws that were broken here," the officer continued. "Are there any under the health care acts that I am unaware of?"

"Well, the regulations require patients be discharged before leaving the hospital," he said.

"And what is the penalty for failure to discharge?" the officer asked.

"Well, there really isn't one," Desmond said. "But there is a lot of paperwork at our end."

"So no laws broken then? I think we are done here," the OPP went to his cruiser and opened the door. "Are you fellows coming with me, or did you want to walk back to town?"

"It is against the law to practise medicine without a license," the doctor insisted.

"You aren't going to get me to charge anyone with that for practising traditional healing," the officer said. "We've had directives relating to that from HQ."

"But ... but ... but ..." Dr. Mitchell stuttered. He was not used to failing to get his own way.

The cruiser eventually left, and the people dispersed, with the elders going with their families to their new houses. Wayne took River to the campsite where her parents were. The boys were off playing, completely carefree and wild again.

"I think I should head off to the camp office," Dale said. "I don't have a job to go back to, so we can stay the extra week until your Mom has to go back to work at the bank."

"Maybe we shouldn't go shopping in the city tomorrow," River said. "If you don't have a job ..."

"Don't you worry about that," Dale said. "Don't go nuts, but you need to buy what you need. Thank goodness I didn't sell off my investments last month when the company offered to sell me shares. I'd have wound up with nothing when they took off with all the cash."

"Well, we should do some shopping in town tonight," River said.

"Won't it be cheaper, with more selection in the city?" Alison asked.

"It would be," River agreed, "and definitely yes to selection. But we should support the local store too. If we don't, then he winds up going out of business and then the town has no store. Is it worth it to save a dollar or two if we wind up costing someone his living?"

Dale nodded, and then said: "Well, I'm heading to the office. If you girls are going into town, you can have the van. I'm going to walk to the office and back. I really like having this thinner waist, and I don't want the old one back." He trotted off and the boys just happened to touch base at the camp at that time, hungry perhaps, but when it was mentioned that they were heading into town, they both were eager to join in.

Alison drove, stopping at the JR camp, where Gina and Gale were just back from showering after a day of work planting trees. They joined in, and the group drove out of the park and into town.

River had only been in town twice since arriving the week before. They had been at the service centre when she sent Henrietta on her way, and the hospital on the other side of the street this morning. The service station was on the band side of the road. As a part of the reserve, it didn't have to charge tax on fuel, so its price was lower than any other station for miles in any direction, and most regular traffic on the TransCanada highway stopped there for the cheap gas. It had an attached café and a small variety store.

On the lake side of the road was the hospital, a tiny post office, and the liquor store. The town once had a Northern store (a former Hudson’s Bay trading post) store years ago, but cutbacks 15 years back meant that it closed. A private agent was appointed to take over the liquor store. He ran in about a third of the old Northern store, with the other two-thirds sitting empty. There was another building next to it: a general store carrying both dry goods and a limited supply of groceries. There was a hotel - not featuring rooms, but more as a tavern. Finally, there was a small eight-unit motel on the edge of town, and Moonie's hatchery across the road at the edge of the reserve.

It was to the general store that the group headed, and found that they were pretty much the only ones in it as they walked in. Gail and Gina eschewed the stock in the clothing area, having seen it all before, but River bought some more panties, and Alison got a couple new bras and tops for herself, and was looking at jeans and t-shirts for the boys, herself, and Dale.

"Finding everything you need?" the jovial merchant asked as he wandered over.

"I think so," Alison said. "I need to get a few things for my husband. It is like pulling teeth to get him into a clothing store. If something doesn't fit, can we exchange it later?"

"No problem," the man said. "Just make sure all the tags are on it, and it is still in saleable condition and we will exchange for goods. We don't do cash exchanges though."

"That should be okay," Alison said. She turned to the boys and said: "You two are here ... so head into the change room and try those jeans on."

The shopkeeper noticed some of the people at the front counter, and he hustled over to help them. Gina, Gail, and River browsed over in the same direction. River noticed that all three of the people, who she recognized from the ceremony, but couldn't name, had cashed government cheques.

"There is no bank in town, is there?" she asked, after the trio had left. All three had nodded respectfully at River before they left.

"Nope. Nearest one is in Terrace Bay, about 30 klicks down the road. A lot of the Indians get welfare, and when the Ontario Works cheques come in, like today, they come here to cash them. I do them for free. They could also cash them down at the liquor store, but he charges $15. So most of them come here first, and then head down there with their cash."

"That is nice of you to do that for the First Nations people," River said, stressing the proper term, not wanting to nag.

"Well, I guess I have an ulterior motive," he said. "If I cash them, they clear their accounts with me first. I run a tab for groceries and dry goods through the month, and then on cheque day they all pay up. I may not sell a single thing today, but it will still be one of my best days of the month with all the accounts being cleared off."

"Well, I think Mom is definitely getting more than a few things, so it won't be a ‘no sale' day for you," River said. "We are going to the Sault tomorrow, but we wanted to check in here first and get what we can get locally first."

The man softened his look. "Well we thank you. Not many will do that. When people go to the city, they tend to buy everything there. I admit it is cheaper, but I've got smaller volume and freight costs that the big stores don't have."

Just then Alison appeared with her shopping carts full, one with dry goods, and the other with groceries that the family would need since they were staying the second week. The bill totalled over $200, and the storeowner was exceptionally pleased to make the sales. Another two of the people came in while they were being rung up, and waited patiently, again nodding respectfully to River and getting a friendly smile in return.

The boys carried the groceries out, while River and Alison carried the clothing bags, loading all of them in the van.

Down the street Nelson Churchill looked down at the store from the front window of his liquor agency. "Damn, that is another five that have left without coming here," he said, largely to himself. Ontario Works cheque day was normally his busiest day of the month, but today it had been dead. Only one in five of the natives that usually came in had shown up, and the ones that did come in were buying a fraction of what they had bought in the past. They had bought a single bottle instead of four or five, or a single case of beer instead of three. Nelson noted when they paid they had money left in their wallets. He could see the bills. Bills that in the past had gone into his till. Something was making them keep hold of their money. Nelson would have to ask around and find out why.

Meanwhile, the van was soon at the camp office, and looking in they could see that Dale had left. That was to be expected. Even walking each way, he should have been back at the campsite long before their nearly two hour shopping trip had ended. But in fact, they saw him walking as they neared the JR camp, where River and the two girls would spend the night.

Alison warned the girls to be up early, since they were planning to leave at 5 am in order to make it to the Sault by 10. [The Sault refers to Sault Ste. Marie, and is referred to in the north as The Sault, which is French for The Rapids. It is pronounced Soo.]

"That won't be a problem for me," River said. "I'll be up before dawn to go to the river. I'll get the girls up at four."

"Four?" Gail and then Gina groaned.

"If you are up that early, you can wake the rest of us too, and we won't have to remember to set the alarm tonight," Alison told River. "And you girls will be able to nap in the van on the way down if you are still tired. I know the boys will."

As Dale slid into the driver seat of the van, and Alison slid over to the passenger side, River noticed a huge grin on his face. How happy can someone be from getting a week extension at a camp office? "You look like the cat that ate the canary," she said. "What happened?"

"Tell you tomorrow, after I talk with your Mom," Dale said with a smile.

River

By Dawn Natelle

CHAPTER 8

So far: River avoided problems with the law while helping the river cure the elders from the hospital. After that, there was a shopping trip to beautiful downtown St. Mary's in the evening, in preparation for the bigger excursion to the city on Saturday. Finally, River sees that her dad has a secret, which he won't tell her.

---

River woke early again, and was able to spend an hour in the river before heading back to wake her family first, and then went back to her tent at the JR campsite to wake her tent mates, who had learned to ignore her early rising. But today they grumbled about waking at 4 a.m., and having to rush to the shower facilities to shower and do their teeth in the pre-dawn.

Gail was last out, and had just gotten dressed when the Waters' van arrived to pick them up. The boys were sitting in the two seats in the second row, already half asleep again. Alison climbed into the back with Gina and Gail, telling her daughter to sit shotgun and keep Dale awake on the long drive down to the Sault. They headed out at five a.m.

They rode in silence, and soon River heard the sound of five sleeping people behind her. "So what was the big secret you wouldn't tell me about yesterday," she asked her dad. "You were in the office for a long time just to renew a camp site for a second week."

"Yes," Dale replied with a smile. "I met some of your friends there. The fellow who does the sweetgrass ceremony, and three others, who apparently are big shots in the band. When I told them why I was staying the second week ... no job to go back to ... they started to ask what kind of work I had done down there. It seems that the band has been looking for a construction manager for some time."

"You mean you might get a job up here?" River said excitedly.

"They want me to go out to their site on Monday, as a sort of a trial. Basically, I will work for them for the next week. They will pay me, and our campsite is free for the week. If they like what they see during that week, it can be a permanent thing. I've talked it over with your Mom, and she rather likes the idea. She is getting near the point where she will be made a manager of a small branch, or the assistant manager of a larger one, and she says that northern branches are hard to fill. She will work in Toronto for the next school year, so Mark can finish his term down there, while you and I can stay up here."

"That sounds so cool. Is the bank in Terrace Bay a Royal Bank?" Alison asked.

"I really don't know, and your mom wasn't sure. We are supposed to look as we drive through in a few minutes. If it is, that would be a perfect location for her, nice and close. If not, she would have to consider switching jobs, or going to another branch, if there is one within driving distance."

"Maybe she can get them to put a branch in St. Mary's, if there isn't a Royal branch in Terrace Bay," River suggested. "The town really needs one. I talked to the owner of the little store, and he says he wastes a lot of time driving to Terrace Bay to bank."

"And apparently the band has quite a bit of money in investments," Dale added. "They have quite a few millions in money they got from the government back in the 80s for land claims: well over $15 million. Most bands just split the money up between all the members, but up here they dispersed 25% that way, and kept the rest in an account for future projects. The one they are hiring me for is one of those. They are building a little subdivision on band land just east of the reserve. There will be up to 30 houses on the subdivision, and there are six under construction right now. Most of the workers are natives ... First Nations, I mean ... and not certified carpenters. They need someone who knows the building codes and construction practices to lead them."

"And that is where you come in," River said proudly.

"Yeppers. I was watching as we drove past the site, coming out of town, and it looks like one of the houses is being framed. They are log construction, using pine from the old growth forests around here. I asked if they were using local stone for the foundations and fireplaces, and the four of them just looked at each other. I think that is the moment I got the job. They had never even thought about using local stone, and that fits in with their hope to use as much labour from the band as possible."

"Can the people just start cutting stones? I always thought that was a specialized trade," River asked.

"It is," Dale explained. "But I know a mason down in Toronto who recently retired. He loves hunting, so I think we could get him up here, at least until winter. He could teach the First Nations lads his trade, and get in some hunting and fishing at the same time. His wife died a few years back, so I think there is a chance he could be convinced to move up here permanently."

"So you have him for stonework, and yourself for carpentry. What else do you need? Someone for logging the trees?"

"No, apparently there is a lot of local talent in that area. They have been harvesting trees for the pulp mill for decades, so there is nothing to teach them about that. Their problem is in putting the pieces together. Apparently they were planning to put simple truss roofs on the homes. It would be a shame to have a beautiful log home, and then topping it with a simple shingled roof. What they really need is a timber-truss system with cathedral ceilings."

"Can you do trusses like that?"

"Actually, I can. Mostly through a software program I used at the old company. I'm going to pick up a laptop in the Sault, and use my old password to re-download it from the cloud. If it can do what we need, then we can get the band to pick up the maintenance contract that my old company had. It is amazing for doing trusses. It prints out detailed engineering plans, and all I have to do is teach the men how to interpret the plans. They are probably visual learners, so by doing a few trusses they will become comfortable with them."

"Are you going to be making as much money as before?"

"The salary is lower, but the benefits are better," he said. "Not having to own a million dollar home in Toronto, at least not after your Mom moves up here, is huge. No need for suits, I can work in jeans. And I'll be able to walk to work."

"Walk to work?" River asked. "Where would we live?"

"That is one of the benefits," Dale said. "We get to live in the first home finished, at least until it is sold. It will be the show home for the others. Of course, that means it will have to be kept immaculate, so customers can come in at all hours. Can you do that? Your Mom won't be able to if she is in Toronto, except for weekends."

"Yeah, no problem. Remember, I'm a girl now. We are tidier."

"That's right," Dale chuckled. "So no mess like Ricky's room back home?"

"Ugh," River said. "I'll never live like that again. So where are these homes? Close to the river? Walking distance?"

Dale smiled. "The first six homes will back onto the river. Huge lots. You will have to walk a bit out the back door to get to the river, but it will be less than walking from our campsite."

River had to suppress a squeal of glee, remembering the people sleeping behind them. "It sounds perfect. When will the house be ready?"

"The elders were expecting it to be ready by November, when the snows start up here. I think we can shave a few weeks to a month off that schedule when I get things organized better. October 1 would be a good date, since that is when camping out at the park will become a bit chilly."

"So everything is in order then," River asked.

"Oh, not by a long shot," Dale laughed. "We have to find a good salesperson, design a web site, organize an office. There is a ton of things to be done. But I feel more energized and excited than I have been in years at the old job. There I was just a cog in the operation. Here I'm going to be the entire engine. I really didn't get much sleep last night, thinking about things, and talking with your Mom. That's why she is crashed out in the back with the girls."

River looked back. Mark and Paul were slumped on each other's shoulders, and a row back Gail, Gina, and Alison were cuddled up together, with Gina lying on Alison's shoulder in a cute picture pose. "Aww," she said. "They look like sisters."

"Look," Dale said a minute later. "It is Terrace Bay. Look for the bank."

"There, in that little strip mall," Alison pointed after a minute. "Darn, it is CIBC. I guess it would be too much to hope for that it could be Mom's bank."

"Don't worry, something will work out," Dale said. "She could even work for me running the office in the construction company, if I can build it up enough over the next year or so. But I know she loves banking. It will all come together in time."

They rode for a while, largely in silence, with only bits of conversation here and there, mainly River pointing things out so that Dale wouldn't get drowsy. It was 7:30 by the time they reached the little town of Wawa and saw the giant goose statue that makes the community famous, at least within 20 kilometers each direction.

That was the first rest stop, and they pulled in to fuel the van, then moved over to the attached cafe to fuel themselves. Everyone in the back grumbled: some for having their dreams interrupted, and others for having aches and pains from sleeping upright for the past two and a half hours.

Alison was not one of the complainers. Her newly rejuvenated body felt better after two and a half hours sleeping in a van than it used to feel getting up from her soft bed in Toronto after a full night's sleep. She offered to drive for the next leg, only insisting that Dale take over when they got into the city. This meant that all the riding positions changed, with Dale and the boys in the back, and Gina and Gail in the middle seats. Alison didn't want Dale wrapped up with the two young girls the way she had been for the first leg of the trip.

As Dale tucked in the back with the boys, Alison pulled out of the parking lot and returned the van to the TransCanada highway. "So did Dad tell you about his job offer?" she asked River.

"Yeah. He was so excited. He is really into the idea."

"Tell me about it ... we didn't sleep much at all last night. Thank goodness for that little nap on the way to here."

"So what do you think about it, Mom?"

"Well, I'm not looking forward to splitting the family up for the next few months. Your river brought your Dad and me so much closer together. It is almost like we are newlyweds again, but with nearly grown children. But he really wants this job, and I know you would have a hard time being parted from your river. Mark really wants to go to school in Toronto this fall, and I've put so much into my job, and moving up at the bank. I feel I am ready to head a branch now. I just have to convince my bosses that I am."

"You will Mom, I'm sure."

"Did you or your Dad happen to notice which bank was in Terrace Bay?"

River frowned. "Yeah. Not good news. It's CIBC."

"Shoot," Alison said. "I was so hoping it was Royal Bank. Oh well, I guess I can consider it as a possibility if I decide to make a lateral move to another bank."

"What about a satellite bank right in St. Mary's," River suggested. "I was chatting with the owner of the store, and he says he spends an hour every time he needs to go to the bank at Terrace Bay. And all the people from the reserve that get cheques have to cash them at the store or the liquor place."

"I don't know honey," Alison said. "It is a pretty small town to support a bank. Even satellite branches need a bigger base."

"Dad said that the band has a lot of money in investments. I bet they would move them to a local bank."

"Unless it is over $10-million, I don't think it would make that much of a difference."

"From what Dad said, it is more than that. Maybe twice that."

Alison didn't say anything for a while. "That might make a difference. I think perhaps on Monday I might put on a power suit and walk up and down main street St. Mary's and talk to the merchants. If I can build a credible case for a branch, maybe they will go for it at the Royal."

"Power suit? Do you have any of those up here? They are all in your closet in Toronto, aren't they?"

"That is what I plan to buy today," Alison said. "I need three new suits, at least, to fit this new body your river gave me. Not that I am complaining. And your Dad certainly hasn't been. I won't have time to shop when I get back to Toronto next Monday."

Again, the conversation lulled as they drove on, and it was just after 9:00 when they reached the Cambrian Mall. It was the smaller of the two malls in town and Alison didn't feel badly about driving to it to let Dale get as much sleep as possible. They left him in the van as the others went into the mall and looked around.

To River and the boys, used to Toronto malls, it was puny, with only a few dozen stores. Gail and Gina liked it. Compared to St. Mary's and Terrace Bay it was heaven. But both girls made semi-annual trips to the Sault with their parents, so they knew that the other mall in town was better. Nevertheless, they spent over an hour, and a couple hundred dollars, in Cambrian before heading back to the van. Dale took over driving downtown to the Station Mall, while River and the girls piled into the back seat.

At the bigger shopping complex, money started flowing. Over the next four hours, the girls spent all the money they had brought with them in the teen stores, as well as getting a few things for River, who still was not all the way into the girly-shopping mindset. She still preferred wearing the buckskin dresses and skirts that the native women had gifted her. The young boys got a few more things, although most of what they needed had been bought in St. Mary's. Alison actually spent the most, picking up three business suits and a few blouses and accessories. Having three young girls as style experts meant that she bought clothes a bit more trendy than she would otherwise, but even Dale and the boys proclaimed that she looked 'Hot' in her new suits.

They were all tapped out by a bit after three, and headed back to the van. They didn't have many bags, as Dale and the boys had taken the bulk of the materials back to the van while the girls were outfitting Alison. The mall was located downtown, and they had parked in a commercial lot next to a hotel. They all stopped at an ice cream shop along the way, while Dale headed on to the van.

As River approached, a bit ahead of the others and she saw her dad talking to a young woman, looking rather uncomfortable. As she neared, walking faster than the other girls, River noticed that the girl was one of the people, and seconds later, somehow she knew that the girl was from the river reservation.

"Sorry sir," the girl said as she backed away from Dale. "I thought you were here for the Steelmakers' convention."

"Pardon me," River asked her. "Are you from St. Mary's?"

The girl looked surprised, but before she answered Dale spoke: "River. That's all right. Let's just leave."

"How ... how did you know I was from there?" the girl asked.

"We are from there," River said. Suddenly, what the girl was doing clicked into place. "Are you working here?"

"River," Dale was both uncomfortable and a bit angry. "Come. Now!"

Meanwhile, the girl looked embarrassed and nodded, looking down.

"You need to come back with us," River said.

"What?" Dale shouted.

"I can't go back. My sister and I," she looked over to another girl, standing a few dozen meters away, working a different corner of the parking lot, "we can't go back to our families. We would be too ashamed."

"You are both coming with us," River insisted.

"River. We don't have room," Alison said, coming over once she had the others, and all the shopping, in the van.

"It's all right," the girl said meekly. "We aren't worth worrying about."

"Yes you are," River said forcefully, reaching out and grabbing the girl's shoulder. A shock went through the girl at the touch, and her eyes opened wide, staring at River. River turned to her parents and said "We can make room for two more, somehow. We have to take these girls home." Dale caved first, nodding, and then Alison, who still didn't realize what their profession was.

"Okay," she said meekly. Then she shouted at the other girl. "Shelly, come here."

The other girl, perhaps a year or two younger, sauntered over. "What's going on Marilyn?"

"These people ... her," she nodded at River, "they want to take us home."

"Home," the older girl said. "We don't have a home anymore. This is our home."

"You are people of the river," River said. "You always have a home there." She reached out and touched the other girl on the arm, and her eyes also opened wide.

"Who are you? How do you know about the river?"

"I talk to the river. It wants you to come home."

"We can go back?" the younger girl asked.

"You can always go back," River said. "Do we need to go anywhere, and pick up stuff for you?"

"No," Shelly said. "Besides, Pierre will be there, and if we come back without any money, he will get violent. We have nothing there we need."

With that, they crammed into the van. It was not going to be a comfortable trip back, with the boys and Gail and Gina in the three seat rear bench, and River, Shelly and Marilyn crammed into the two middle seats. Only Alison and Dale in the front were not crowded during the trip home.

The ride back was uneventful, with another stop in Wawa for gas and supper. Dale bought the two new girls a meal, and it seemed as if they hadn't eaten well in a while. They certainly seemed to have a major appetite.

River talked quietly with the two on the trip. Shelly turned out to be 16, although she had been on the street for the past two years. Marilyn was two years older, and had been in the Sault for three years. They had an older brother back at the reserve, along with three younger sisters. Just before Shelly came down to join Marilyn, she had met Pierre, when she still thought of him as a boyfriend rather than the pimp he turned out to be. He had gotten both girls hooked on cocaine, and they were apprehensive about travelling 100 kilometers an hour in the opposite direction from their next fix. They were also afraid of meeting up with their family and former friends, feeling that they had somehow ruined their lives.

As they got closer and closer to St. Mary's both girls got more and more agitated and nervous. Eventually River had to calm them down by promising that after they visited the River, they could leave town again without speaking to anyone in their family if they wanted.

River

By Dawn Natelle

CHAPTER 9

So far: River is back in the park after a long ride to Sault Ste. Marie, where she met, and collected two of the river's people who had been trapped in a cycle of prostitution and drug addiction. She will take them to the river as soon as they arrive at the campsite.

---

They pulled into the campsite at about 10:30, after letting Gail and Gina off at the JR camp. The tired boys immediately went to their tent, and Alison told River that she would look after unloading the van should the native girls need some attention. River immediately walked the girls back down to the river. Both were starting to show some reactions that they needed a fix.

"We can't go in there," Marilyn exclaimed at the river bank. "The river is too cold. When we were kids we couldn't even wade in it for more than a few minutes."

"Trust me," River said, and walked into the water. She held out a hand to the sisters. Shelly reacted first, and stepped in, letting out a small shriek at first.

"It's not bad," Shelly told her sister. "Real cold for a second, but then it is okay."

Marilyn then followed her in, again squealing a bit as she first touched the water, then feeling a warmth as the river flowed around her. The three girls walked out into the middle of the river, until the water was up to their chests. River started to sing in Ojibwe, singing her familiar song of the history of the people.

The sisters listened to the sounds, which reminded them of the days of their youth when elders would sing in the language at pow-wows and celebrations. Sooner than they would have thought, they realized that they were understanding some of the words, then sentences, and finally all of the song. They even understood the early verses that River had sung. As they listened to the history of their people, they began to feel pride. Pride in being Ojibwe, and pride in themselves. On the streets in the Sault, they had been abused, called 'dirty Indians', and treated like lesser beings by the men who used their services. Now they again felt pride in their heritage and realized that they were every bit as good as anyone else.

Soon they were singing the chorus of the song with River, and the three part harmony made a joyful sound as it rang up and down the river. The night was full when they had entered the river and now close to midnight they could only see by the stars. As they continued to sing, the river healed them, and the awfulness of what they had done in the city started to fade. It would never disappear, but now was pushed back in their memories.

Marilyn hugged River in the moonlight. "Thank you so much. We feel blessed now. But what are we to do? We can't go back to our lives in Sault Ste. Marie. And we can't face our families."

River put an arm around each of the two sisters, and led them carefully to the shore. "Are you certain you can't meet your family?" She pointed to the riverbank. Standing there were seven people, three adults, and four children, ranging from a babe in arms up to the 10-year-old girl holding the baby. Marilyn stopped, still in the water as she recognized who they were, and a second later Shelly saw too. She leaped out of the water and embraced one of the adults.

"Mama," she cried, as the older woman embraced her in her arms. "Oh Mama, I have been so bad. How will you ever forgive me?"

"Baby, I never gave up hope that you would come back to me, and now I find you coming out of our river. You know that nothing bad ever comes out of this river. And now I get the gift of my daughters coming out." She put forth her other arm, and Marilyn finally edged out of the river and slowly came up to it, not certain she could accept it. But when she did, and the arm of her mother was once again hugging her tightly, she melted into it and felt safer than she had felt in years.

Shelly moved over to hug her father, and Marilyn got full attention from her mother. Both adults and both sisters were sobbing freely in joy, when River finally took a hand from the other adult to get out of the river. It was only when the third adult moved from behind the others and she saw that it was her friend Wayne.

"Wayne," she said in surprise.

"Thank you for bringing my sisters back to us," he said. He was fighting tears himself. "We have missed them dearly for so long."

"I didn't know they were your sisters. I just saw that they were people of the river, and had to bring them back."

"We felt the river calling us a half hour or so ago. We got the young ones out of bed and came down. The river told us to turn off our flashlights when we were getting close, so we walked the last bit in the moonlight. We could hear you all singing."

"It was beautiful," the mother said. "I thought at first that the song was why the river had called us. Then when you were all coming out we discovered that it was my own babies making that heavenly music. I didn't know you could sing."

"We couldn't," Shelly said. "I sounded like a lake freighter's fog horn, and Marilyn was worse. But singing the song of our people ... it just felt so right."

"Sometimes the river gives a gift to those it helps," River said, breaking out of Wayne's strong grasp. "Your beautiful singing voices may be your gift from the river."

Soon the girls had moved from their parents, and Wayne now had his oldest sisters hugging him. "How can you forgive us," Shelly said. "You are the college boy, and we were just ..."

"You were just my sisters, and I love you," Wayne interrupted. "You must never run away again. Things are better here now, and River will make sure that you are all right."

Just then the shy little 10-year-old stepped forward. "Liesl?" Marilyn gasped. "You have grown so big. And who is that you are holding."

"It is Mark. He's 10 months old now. Do you want to hold him?"

Marilyn just stared at the tiny baby, and said nothing, although the joy disappeared from her face. Shelly jumped in, and took the little one from her younger sister and started cooing and making baby talk to the child. She didn't even notice Marilyn turn away and walk away from the rest.

Helen, the mother, and River did notice, and immediately ran after the girl, who was now sobbing hysterically. "What is wrong?" Helen asked enveloping the girl in her arms again. "Nothing bad can happen to you here. This is your home."

"I'm horrible," Marilyn wailed hysterically. "I killed him!" By now the rest had noticed her distress and Ben, the father, and Wayne had moved over to be with her, while gesturing for Shelly to keep the small ones a distance away.

"Who did you kill?" Wayne asked.

"My ... my ... my baby," the girl wailed. "I guess a condom broke or something, and then I missed a couple periods, so Pierre made me go to the clinic. He said he wasn't going to have me not working, and didn't want a kid messing around. It was just before Shelly came down, so I was all alone. And I killed him."

River moved in on the other side from Helen to hug Marilyn. "No my dear," she crooned. "It wasn't you that killed him. It was Pierre. He sounds like a real piece of work." Then she started singing in Ojibwe, The Funeral Song. After a few seconds Helen joined in, then Ben and Wayne added their deeper voices to the song that the people traditionally sang to send a loved one to the next world.

As they sang, Marilyn's sobs slowly diminished, and near the end of the song she joined in singing as well. Finally the song faded off across the river, and she smiled tentatively. "I feel better now. That was tearing me up inside for a long time. I didn't even tell Shelly," she said, looking at her sister, who had moved closer while the song was being sung. She had even joined in at the end, when Marilyn had started singing.

"Who were we singing for?" Shelly asked.

"I got pregnant a couple years ago. Pierre made me have an abortion. I never told you."

"Is that why you were always on my case about making sure I had good condoms?" Shelly said. She passed the baby over to River, and then embraced her older sister. "You should have told me."

"I was embarrassed," Marilyn said. Now it was Liesl who was on the other side, hugging her eldest sister. A moment later, Marilyn said: "Now let me meet my brother Mark."

River reluctantly handed the baby to his sister. River had never thought about being a mother; until a few days ago, she had never even thought about being a girl. But holding the tiny baby for those few minutes awakened a maternal feeling in her that she didn't know existed. It was a small itch now, but she knew it would grow over time. And she would never be able to scratch the itch, if she wanted to remain true to the river.

The family headed back to their home. They had a pickup truck parked at the campsite, and Ben and the returning daughters were in the cab while the rest sat in the back. River found herself nestled in Wayne's arms, while Liesl sat on her lap, holding Mark. Helen and her two boys took positions on the other side of the truck bed as they rode the bumpy road to the Stormcloud house.

It was well after midnight when they came to the Stormcloud home, which was one of the older ones on the reservation, near the western edge. It was surrounded by several acres of land, and there were no cut lawns around it, but wild and untamed bush. Two abandoned pickups and an abandoned car were off to one side, like many of the native homes River had seen.

The house itself had a "shack-like" appearance, or to be more accurate, it looked like several shacks joined together. Marilyn explained that the central portion had been the original home when Helen and Ben married, and new additions had been added with the birth of almost every child. Behind the house was a large barn-like structure.

"It is pretty crappy," she said, and Shelly nodded her head.

"I don't think so," River objected. "It certainly doesn't look like a city house, and if it were in the city I'm sure the neighbors would object. But it was built by your father with his own hands. There is a certain beauty in that. If you don't look at it like a sterile building, but instead of as a token of your dad's love for you, then it is actually quite beautiful."

Neither girl spoke for a minute, then Shelly let out a gasp: "I see it. It really is beautiful. It is just so ... Papa." A second later Marilyn made the connection, and also gasped with the realization that her home was so much more beautiful that she had ever seen.

"We should let you go to bed. It is so late," Marilyn said.

"Are you tired?" River asked.

"No, I am not, but I should be," Marilyn said. "We were up early, and it was a long and tiring day. I would have fallen asleep on the way up here if ... if I hadn't needed ..."

"You will never need that again," River said firmly. "And you don't need to sleep either. Or eat, I bet. The river sustains us, and we were in there for quite some time. That's why I had your dad bring me here, rather than to the JR camp. I won't need sleep for hours."

"Me either," Shelly said. "Maybe we should go out to Papa's workshop. We don't want to wake the ones who are sleepy."

The three girls walked out to the big barn behind the house, and River gasped when Marilyn turned on the lights. The room was filled with canoes, snowshoes, and other woodcrafts.

"This. Is. Amazing." she said. "Your Dad did all this? It is beautiful." She brushed by one cedar strip canoe that nearly shone in the lights in the workshop. Next to it was a birch bark canoe that had a fanciful design of a moose on the front.

"Dad does the construction. Mom does the painting, and weaves the webs for the snowshoes," Shelly said proudly. "Over there are some drum bodies. John Lonewolf puts the heads on them, but he says that Papa's frames are much better than anything he can do."

"Oh look," Marilyn noted, pointing at some circular design pieces hanging by the door. "Those must be Liesl's. She is starting to make Dreamcatchers. The webs are a bit immature, not like Momma's"

"I don't know," Shelly said, pointing to one higher up. "That one is the last one I made before I went to the Sault. Liesl's looks just as good as it."

"What is a dreamcatcher?" River asked.

"It is a spider's web. In the olden days, we believed that the Spider Woman made them to protect the people. Now other tribes make them, and feel that they catch bad dreams. They do have something to do with dreams, although they definitely do not prevent nightmares."

"I can't believe how talented you all are," River said. "Do you ever sell any of this stuff?"

"Dad sells a canoe every year or so, and the odd pair of snowshoes. You will need a pair for this winter, and probably your Dad too, if he is going to work up here," Marilyn said.

"Yeah, I guess the snow gets pretty deep around here. When does it start?"

"The first blast will come in November. If we are lucky, that will melt away a bit before the first storms in December. But the snow from that will be still there until late March or early April. With a storm every week or so, the drifts can be 10 feet or more deep where there haven't been any plows," Marilyn said. "You need snowshoes to walk on top of it. For you, one of these smaller Bearpaw models will hold your weight. But your Dad will need a traditional Ojibwe model."

"What do they cost?" River asked.

"I doubt Dad will charge you, but normally he sells the Bearpaw for $100 and the traditional for $200. More if it is to someone outside the tribe. It takes about a week to make and web a Bearpaw, and about two weeks for a traditional."

"Is that all he charges? What does he charge for a canoe? How long do they take to make?"

"Both cedar and birch bark take over a month to make. He charges $1000 for the cedar, and $1200 or so for the birch, because of the time it takes Momma to paint them," Marilyn said.

"That isn't enough money," River protested. "Even making canoes that is only $12,000 a year, and a lot less than that for snowshoes. What about dreamcatchers?"

"Liesl probably spent like a week on that one," Shelly said. "But she is a beginner. Mom can do one in a morning. I don't know of anyone ever selling one though. You usually make them for yourself, or as a gift for a friend."

"I've seen some for sale at pow-wows," Marilyn said. "They can go for $20 to $50, usually."

"Fifty dollars?" River was incredulous. "Even if you could make 10 in a week that is pretty small money for such beautiful art."

"Yeah, but there are not so many ways for our people to make cash," Marilyn said. "That is why it was so tempting to go to the Sault and make money ... the way we did. It seemed pretty good at first, until Pierre started taking half, and then got us on drugs to take the other half. We were pretty much slaves at the end." She ended with a sob, and River and Shelly rushed over to hug her.

The girls talked through the early morning, and into the early dawn. Around 6 a.m., they moved into the kitchen, and started making a breakfast. River was surprised to see that the inside of the house was neat and tidy. There weren't all the modern appliances of a Toronto house, but there was a homey, welcoming feel to the home. Helen, the mother, was the first of the sleepers to rise, and had a miles-wide smile on her face when she saw that coffee had been made and bacon, eggs, toast, and pancakes were in various stages of completion, without her needing to do any work.

"My wonderful girls are back," she said gladly, gathering Shelly and Marilyn into her arms in a hug. "Does this mean I am no longer chief cook and bottle-washer for this battalion?"

"Nope. It means you are promoted to supervising cook and bottle-washer," River said with a giggle. "Dig in. I'm sure that the rest of your troop will be out shortly."

"Immediately," Ben said, coming out to hug his wife, and then his girls. Wayne was not far behind. As they started to chow down, the younger girls, Liesl, Marta and Gretl came out smiling at the sight of their family happily eating. During the night Marilyn had told River that Helen had seen the Sound of Music shortly after Shelly's birth, and had named her later children after the children in the movie.

"So why isn't this little one's name Kurt, or Friedrich?" Marilyn asked as she brought out tiny Mark to complete the family. He had been born after even Shelly had left the house.

Helen giggled, and Ben answered: "It was discussed, but I decided that she would probably want a Brigitta and Louisa to complete the set, along with another boy. I was NOT in favor of that many more kids around here. I think what we have is a perfect number."

"Awww," River said as Marilyn passed the baby off to his mother, who started feeding him in the traditional way. The older girls and River managed to eat a bit once the others had finished, but none of them were very hungry after the nourishment from the river the night before. They then cleaned up, and did the dishes; there are not dishwashing machines in most reserve homes, River learned.

For the next few hours the family sat around and visited. Some of the people of the River were church-going, and normally would have headed off to services in the little Anglican church in St. Mary's, including the Stormclouds. But after the ceremonies of the week before, few left the reserve that morning. In fact, between eight and nine that morning, most of the people came to the Stormcloud home, and wandered about the yard.

"Do so many usually come and visit?" River asked Wayne at one point.

"No this is special," he said. "I think they came because of you."

"Me? How did they even know I was here?"

"Well, I can't speak for all of them, but I know where you are at all times," he said. "It is like a directional thing. I think because you are the rivertalker. And I think that is why they are here. Last week you told them about the traditional ways of the people. I think they are here instead of going to the white man's church."

River's eyes widened: "Do you mean they want me to give a church service? A sermon? I wouldn't know what to say."

Wayne smiled. "Won't the river tell you what is needed? Our house is only a few dozen yards from the river. You can go in, and the people will stand on the banks."

"Yes. I guess I can do that. I want your sisters: Marilyn and Shelly. If we are going to do this, we should do it right, with songs of the people."

Wayne went to get the girls, and they arrived a few minutes later, wearing their pow-wow finery. River led them into the river, and soon they started to sing songs of the people. They started with a paean to Manitou, the creator, and soon the three voices were clearly carrying across the waters and all the people in the area moved to the riverbank. The song lasted for about 10 minutes, and near the end the people on the bank were singing along with the girls in the parts they recognized.

"How are we even doing this?" Shelly asked her sister. "I've never heard this song before, but the words are right there as we need them."

"The river is giving them to us," River explained. "It knows what we need to sing. I just hope it will know what I need to say when the singing is done."

Next they sang a song of thanksgiving, blessing the deer and moose that were traditional food of the Ojibwe. The song also blessed the crops: wild rice, corn, and other crops that they managed to grow on the few fertile areas of the rocky Canadian Shield.

When that song was finished, the sisters started to hum a low tribal chant, while River's voice lifted so that all the people on the bank could hear her clearly. She told them of their history, although not in the detail she had last week. She called on the people to be proud of their heritage: to remember the old ways and to celebrate them through song and action. She didn't call for a complete return to the old ways, but blending the new ways and the old. It would be silly for a canoe-builder to fail to use power tools to create his craft. But at the same time, changing to aluminium or fibreglass canoes would be a loss of the heritage of the people. She praised those people who had given up on idleness and welfare, and were seeking better ways to make a living. She noted how hard it was to stop drinking alcohol to excess, even though it was a cancer on the people.

She only talked for about 20 minutes, and then the girls sang two more songs, so that the entire time of the ceremony had been just over an hour. The three girls waded to the riverbank, and were greeted by the entire band welcoming them. Shelly and Marilyn were amazed to find that they were honoured by the elders and others, in spite of their recent history. And River again was center of attention, with many of the people congratulating her on a moving speech. She deflected the praise, noting that the words were from the river, and she was merely the rivertalker.

"I can deny that claim," Edith said as she congratulated her. "I was a rivertalker myself, and never was that eloquent."

Edith remained nearby as others greeted her, and then moved away to their homes or other duties. It was nearly noon, and Edith was asked to stay for lunch with the Stormclouds. She accepted, as did River, after one of the people living on the far side of the reservation promised to let her parents know what she was doing.

Over lunch River noted her surprise at the fine work that Ben did on his canoes and snowshoes.

"I think you need to find another junior ranger, Wayne," Edith said. "There are other more important things that River needs to be doing. I think it is important that she meet more of the people and see how they live, and what skills they can do. There are many skills in the band, and you need to know who is who and what they can do."

River reluctantly agreed. She enjoyed the few days she had been a JR, but what Edith said made so much sense. Eve Sunflower had promised to teach her the native dances many days ago, and she still hadn't found time to visit her. Edith and she worked out a schedule of people she should visit over the coming week. Wayne wanted to be her driver and companion, but it was pointed out that he had duties with the JRs. Another driver would be found, Edith decided.

They were in the front yard of the Stormcloud home, preparing to leave when a shot rang out towards the highway. A second later there was another shot, and the yelp of a wounded wolf.

"Moonie," Wayne said, almost as a curse as he started running towards the sound. A second later River followed, running as fast as she could towards the source of the sound.

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[One reader has wondered about the pronunciation of Ojibwe. As a former teacher I know that if one asks, then ten others also don't know, and 20 more are unsure. There are other common spellings of Ojibwe, such as Ojibwa and Ojibway, but I have chosen the one more often used on sites by members of the tribe. The pronunciation, however, is O-jib-way. Incidentally, the word Chippewa is another name for the same tribe. If you listen closely, you can see how similar the words are.]

---

I have striven to keep this story appearing at a weekly interval, but I have to warn that there will be at least a one week haitus while I deal with some health problems. Don't despair -- I have many chapters rolling around in my head, and will come back to this, hopefully after only a one or two week gap: Dawn

River

By Dawn Natelle

CHAPTER 10

So far: Shortly after a traditional religious ceremony at the river had been a huge success, River and Wayne are running full tilt through the reservation towards the highway, where Moonie’s chicken hatchery stands. Two shotgun blasts had been heard, and one squeal from a wounded wolf.

River was a few dozen yards behind Wayne as he veered away from the river, running at full speed. Even so, she nearly caught up with him as they neared the hatchery, where they saw an old man prancing about, waving his shotgun. River barely noticed him, but as he saw her he stopped dancing, and his face went ashen white. River instead looked at the two wolves lying bleeding before them.

Wayne picked up Night, who seemed to be less hurt, and asked: “To the river?” River nodded, and then picked up Jerome, the smaller wolf, who was bleeding profusely from multiple buckshot hits. Jerome weighed about 50 pounds, one of the first wolves born this year. Night weighed over 125 pounds, and was large for a wolf, full grown at four years of age. Wayne didn’t seem to feel the weight as he was off and running back to the river. River picked up Jerome, and also didn’t seem to feel his weight, so she started running after the others.

About halfway to the river she felt Jerome shudder, and then suddenly it was as if he were a few pounds lighter. River saw Wayne plunge into the river with Night, and then heard the river speak: “Too late.” River pulled up along the bank and gently laid the cooling body of Jerome down on the riverbank, tears streaming down her face. “Too late” echoed through her head. “Too late.”

“Save the other,” the river said, and the girl was jolted back into action, plunging into the river, wading out to the middle where Wayne was shivering as a pink bloom surrounded them. River moved closer and the river warmed both man and wolf, and the pink seemed to lessen.

“If Night dies, I will kill Moonie myself,” Wayne muttered. “I may kill him anyway. How is Jerome?”

“He didn’t make it,” River sobbed, and Wayne looked over at the bank, where the body of the young wolf lay. “I’ll kill him.”

“Enough of that,” she said grimly. “We have a wolf to save.”

“He feels stronger already,” Wayne said. There was no more pink in the water, and the big wolf held between them was beginning to breathe stronger. But there was a long time before he would be healed.

“Who is this Moonie?” River asked Wayne, setting off a weird explanation that came from the river itself as much as from Wayne, since much of the story took place before he was born.

Mike was a 14-year-old boy in 1964 when his father informed him that he would be sent to a military-style academy for the balance of his high school years, so that he could join the army when he turned 18 and serve as all the males of his family had since the Civil War. Mike was a gentle soul, and had been a bit of a discipline problem in high school, joking and wisecracking through Grade 9. His father was determined to “solve” that problem through the academy.

Mike was just as determined, and one morning in late June he hitchhiked out of Omaha and headed west. Two weeks later he was in San Francisco, where there was a burgeoning youth movement in its birth throes. A few weeks later he met a young blonde girl from Toronto. Gloria was a couple years older, and immediately was taken by the wiry young lad. She introduced him to marijuana, a newly popular drug called LSD, and to sex. Mike liked the first two, but it was the third one that really captured his attention. He was soon a near slave to Gloria, willing to do whatever she wanted.

But there really wasn’t anything Gloria wanted. Her goal in life was to live, enjoy music, dance, read, and spend time talking about the problems of the world in the coffee houses of the time. The pair became a common sight at the happenings of 1964 San Francisco, living in the trendy North Beach area at first, and later moving to the cheaper and more exciting Haight-Ashbury district, which was just then becoming popular with young people.

At the time you could actually meet and talk to the musicians who played the coffee houses and occasionally bars, and over the next five years the folk sounds of the coffee houses turned into the San Francisco sound of the Fillmore Auditorium. The times they are a-changin’, Dylan wrote, and Mike and Gloria were there to watch it all happen. For one thing, Mike became known as Moondog in 1966, and Gloria took the name Goldberry about the same time, using a little known character from J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy.

O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water! O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter! O spring-time and summer-time, and spring again after! O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves’ laughter!

was how Frodo described the River-woman’s daughter in the book.

It was early in 1971 when Moondog and Goldberry became disenchanted with the west coast. Tour busses now travelled along Haight street, with fat tourists pointing and laughing at the ‘hippies.’ Police were hassling the kids, and drug sales had been taken over by a more criminal element. After living for a few months in a commune in the desert, they decided to come back to Canada, where Moondog wouldn’t have to worry about the draft, and where Goldberry’s family lived in Toronto.

They hitchhiked across the country, crossing the border at night through a Saskatchewan-North Dakota border crossing that closed down at 8 p.m. They got rides to Winnipeg, then to Thunder Bay. They were in the middle of a ride they hoped would take them to Toronto when the driver made a pass at Goldberry in the tiny village of St. Mary’s. When she slapped his face after he suggested that a sexual act might pay for the ride, he dumped them in the wilderness.

The Trans-Canada highway went through the village, founded only 10 years earlier when a pulp and paper mill had been built near the town. Prior to that, only an Indian reservation, a trading post/fur trader, and an Anglican church existed. By 1971 the village was nearing 1000 people, and status as a town, with several stores and other services.

Goldberry, shaken by her experience with the car driver, decided that they would camp out overnight by the nearby river, and decided to put her sore feet into the water. Moondog tried to do the same, but found the river too cold to do more than wash his feet. They spent the night in a small tent, and woke up the next morning to see a small Indian girl standing outside of their pup tent.

The girl led them up the river to her family home, where the hippie couple were amazed to find eight other children as well as welcoming parents who offered them breakfast and, later in the day, lunch. While lounging about the ramshackle house, Moondog told the family that his current dream was to start a small farm somewhere in Ontario, and live off the land. The father noted that they were already in Ontario, and wondered if they were interested in farming here.

Things progressed, and eventually the band council agreed to lease them a small farm of 25 acres on the western edge of the reservation. Moondog wanted to own the land, but the elders explained that people cannot own the land, only use it and care for it. They said the couple could use the land in return for supplying a third of their produce to the people of the river who were in need.

Moondog built a small log cabin on the land, and Goldberry planted a garden, even though it was a bit late in the season for most plants. Goldberry revelled in the native culture of sharing, conservation, and clan, becoming a regular participant in the activities of the people of the river. Moondog tried to make friends in the town, but the mill workers and merchants were less than pleased with “hippies” invading their community, and pretty much shut them out. Instead the pair became more and more oriented towards the native community, who were also regularly shunned by the “Christians” of the village.

Twenty years passed. Goldberry’s garden yielded enough food for the couple to live off, even after giving the band a share. Seven years into their stay, Moondog, despairing over the difficulty in farming on the rocky Canadian Shield, added a small henhouse with a dozen birds. That finally paid off, and over the few dozen years their operation expanded to nearly 400 birds, providing eggs to the town, which had started to accept the couple, and to nearby Terrace Bay.

Then disaster struck. Goldberry developed cancer, but ignored the pains until it was too late. She suffered for less than a year, and then was gone. Moonie, as the people now called him, was grief-stricken. His birds would have died, had he not started using some of the youngsters from the band to help him operate the place. It was more than a year before he started to see the world again. He had created a shrine around Goldberry’s grave, overlooking her garden, which had gone to ruin as he grieved. It was later, when the woman whose children were keeping the hatchery going noted that the neglected garden would not have been to Goldberry’s liking, that Moonie started to come out of his black space. He cleaned up the garden that spring, and planted and tended it again, and started to pay more attention to the hatchery as well.

“I didn’t know most of that,” Wayne said. Being close to River meant that he had heard the river speaking to her. Suddenly, the wolf cradled between them howled a low, mournful cry, and started to thrash about. Wolves do not like being held or petted, so River and Wayne started moving towards the banks. Even so, Night could not wait, and twisted out of their arms and leapt for the bank, coming up short. He yelped as he hit the icy water, and then jumped up on the bank, approaching the body of his fallen brother.

Night sniffed once or twice, and then let out another howl. It was answered, first by nearby wolves in the reservation, and then later by a chorus of the wild wolves. Wayne helped River out of the water, and was amazed again that her deerskin skirts were completely dry, while his denim jeans were soaked, although the water on them was not cold. They stood a few dozen yards away from Night, as other wolves congregated in a circle, howling as they arrived. The people also started to arrive, and like River and Wayne, stood a respectful distance away. With one exception: Rod Ravensclaw and his girlfriend Ria walked up to the fallen wolf. Rod had been the native that had named Jerome and had bonded to him closest, and he broke down, kneeling and gathering up the shell of his departed friend, his tears flowing freely as Ria put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

As this was happening, more wolves were arriving. It was the wild pack that Jerome had been a member of a few short weeks ago. They stood a distance away from the humans, and howled out their mournful cries. Rod stood, and hurried away. As he did, River started singing the Ojibwe death song. Seconds later the crystalline voices of Marilyn and Shelly joined in, and soon the entire tribe was singing, as the wolves howled a deep counterpoint.

Rod hadn’t gone far. He returned carrying a borrowed spade, and started to dig a bit up the bank, far enough from the river to remain dry. As the people and the wolves sang their lament, he got the hole down several feet deep, and then got out and carefully carried Jerome’s body into the hole. He again clambered out of the hole, and was about to start burying his friend, when the wolves of the reservation started coming around the grave. Each paused and sniffed once or twice, and then howled in grief, moving on to let another wolf say goodbye.

River saw the wild pack in the distance, and spoke to the Alpha male. She promised him that his people could safely approach if they also wanted to say goodbye, and gestured for the people to move back another 10 yards or so. Only Rod stood at the grave, leaning heavily on his spade as the Alpha male approached at the end of the line of reservation wolves, followed by his pack.

The last wolf was a grown female, and her lament was longer and harder than any of the earlier ones. River and Rod both realized at the same moment that this was Jerome’s mother. Rod bent over, and stroked the wolf in compassion, and she looked up at him with sorrowful eyes for a moment. Then the moment was over, and she realized that she was being touched by one of the humans, and darted back away to the far side of her pack.

Rod stood, and then slowly shovelled dirt onto the corpse. After about five shovels full, he broke down crying again, and Wayne and River hurried up to him. Wayne took the shovel, while River engulfed the teen into her arms, as his girlfriend Ria took him at the other side. Wayne only laid three more shovels on the body, when Harold Redbear came and took the shovel, laying one more bit of dirt on the grave. Ben Stormcloud was next, and a long line containing all the men and older boys of the band took turns filling the grave. When all the dirt was gone, Rod went and gathered a rock from the riverbank, and laid it on the top of the grave. Others, men and women alike, placed stones.

At the end of the line Mark and Paul, along with River’s parents, added stones. Both boys were in tears, as was Alison. Even River’s father, Dale was fighting with his emotions. All the family remembered the support that Jerome and Night had given their son and his friend when they had been attacked in the washroom the week prior.

With the last stone laid, River and Wayne’s sisters again sang the second funeral song. Somehow John Lonewolf had gotten his drum, and he beat out the rhythm the girls sang to. This song was less of mourning, and more of rebirth and freedom. As they sang, the people watching, even the Waters, who did not understand the words, saw an image that the music created. Everyone at the riverbank that day saw a vision of a young wolf, racing along the sky towards the great Manitou. River wondered if the wolves saw it too, and the Alpha male said they did, and promised her a gift.

As the last notes drifted down the river, River looked up at the wild pack, still standing closer to the people then they normally would. The Alpha male nosed two young wolves, cubs no longer, but not yet full grown, out of the pack into a space between the wild pack and the reservation pack. Night stepped forward and accepted the gift of the Alpha male. He nudged the two terrified young wolves away from their Alpha male. River stepped forward and knelt down, embracing each around the neck. At her touch, the fear and terror left the animals, and they felt calm and happy to be members of their new pack.

“Who did this thing?” Rod asked Wayne.

“Moonie,” Wayne spat. “And he looked pleased at himself for doing it.”

“I’ll kill him,” Rod said. “We will all …”

“No!” shouted River. “There will be no vigilante mob descending on that old man. This is between him, and the wolves. The wolves will decide his fate, not the people. Rod. Wayne. Harold. You three men and three wolves will go. Night and these two newcomers. But it will be the wolves who decide on the guilt of Moonie. Not the people.”

With that River and the three men, and Night and the three wolves headed off to the hatchery, as the other people slowly dispersed back to their homes. Moonie was found sitting on the stool he had built next to Goldberry’s grave, his shotgun on his lap. He had heard the wolf howls from the river, and worried about what was to come. When he saw the group approaching, with River in the lead, his face turned pale. He looked at the grave, and then at River as she neared.

“Goldberry?” he asked. “You have come back to me?”

“I am not Goldberry,” River said solemnly, reaching up and taking the shotgun, handing it to Wayne behind her. “I am River, and you have shot one of my friends.”

“Two,” he said. “A smaller one, and one that looked a lot like that one.” He pointed at Night, who stood silently but with fangs bared.

“Why would you do that?” River said. “They weren’t hurting you.”

“They are wolves,” Moonie protested. “Everyone knows wolves are bad. And … and they steal my chickens.”

“Did you see them take any chickens? Do any other animals steal chickens?”

“The foxes do. All the time. Usually one or two a week, though none this past week,” Moonie said.

“Did you ever think that perhaps the wolves were helping you? Did you know that Jerome, the wolf you killed, spent most of his nights around your hatchery, keeping the foxes from coming? He was helping you and you killed him!”

Moonie looked around in horror as he realized that he had shot a friend, not a predator. It was as if he had pumped buckshot into one of the Indian boys that gathered eggs for him, and fed his chickens. He crumbled to the ground. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” he sobbed.

“Your fate will be decided by these wolves,” River said. “They can take your throat if they feel it is right.”

“I deserve to die, Goldberry,” Moonie said. “Soon I will be with you again.”

Night stepped forward, fangs bared. He had no qualms about dispatching this old man who had painfully shot him, and killed his friend. He snarled and was about to leap at the awaiting throat when one of the younger wolves jumped onto his side, stopping him.

That younger wolf went up to Moonie, who lay with his eyes closed, waiting for teeth to sink into his throat. Instead he felt the long tongue of the wolf lick his face. He opened his eyes, and put his arms around the beast, as though she was a dog.

“I wouldn’t do that, Moonie,” Wayne warned. “They don’t like to be held.” Moonie dropped his arms immediately as the wolf licked him again.

“I think it is safe to say that she isn’t just tasting,” River said with a giggle. “She has decided, even to the point of stopping her Alpha male from taking things in an entirely different way. But this does not mean you are off the hook, Moonie. You did a terrible thing, and you will need to pay. The river wants you to atone, and the people want you to atone.”

“What shall I do?”

“I brought Harold Redbear along with me. He is wise in the ways of the people. You must build a sweat lodge near the river, within sight of Jerome’s grave. When it is complete, the people will have a sweat lodge ceremony, where you will confess your sins. Then you will plunge into the river, and stay in the water as long as you can stand the cold. When you come out, go back into the lodge, and stay there until you are warmed.”

“After the first day, you will do this again, and again. You are to perform a token ceremony, for only the elders can perform a full ceremony, then the river plunge, and then back into the warmth of the lodge again. You will do this every day until there is ice on the river so thick you cannot break through. If the river stays clear all winter, then you will do it all through the spring, summer, fall and next winter until the river freezes. The river will decide the length of your punishment. Go with Harold and find a good spot for the lodge, and let him tell you what needs to be done.”

The two walked away, and a second later the female wolf bounded after them. Night stood looking confused at what had happened, causing Wayne to laugh. “My friend, I think that will not be the last time that little she-wolf gets her way with you. I see the two of you will have an interesting future.”

Rod was not the carefree 19-year-old that River had known. He seemed sombre now, more adult and less a child. It was as if adulthood had been thrust upon him too soon. River would need to talk about him with the river tomorrow morning. But now she had an idea of her own.

“Rod? We have a new friend of the people with us,” she glanced down at the young male wolf. “Is it too soon, or would you be able to take over and show him around the reservation? I’m sure that Night will help.”

Rod looked torn. His friendship with Jerome had been a huge part of his life. Would adopting this new wolf lessen that? After a moments thought, he replied: “Yes. I think I will. I will name him Silver, for the silver stripe in his fur. Come on Silver, I want you to meet Ria. I think you will like her.” With that he strode off towards the river, with the two wolves following along.

That left River and Wayne alone at the hatchery, with the sounds of chickens clucking in the background. “Come,” Wayne ordered, as River nestled her head into his chest. “It has been a long day, and we need to get home.”

River looked up at the big man, and decided to tease him. “You know, you spent a long time in the river today with Night. You’d better check and make sure it didn’t start turning you into a girl.”

Wayne seized up. “What? Really? Do you think …?”

River giggled as she led the distraught man along.

Over the next week or so, Moonie built the sweat lodge to the specifications of Harold and other elders. Moonie did most of the work, although there were always one or two First Nations men with him, helping with things like lashing the building together without nails or metal of any sort. Finally the lodge was built, large enough for 20 people at one time, and the initial ceremony was held. Moonie and three others who had been cleansed plunged into the river after the ceremony. The others immediately leapt out of the icy water, but Moonie spent almost a minute before leaving, shivering and blue. In the lodge Lena Stoneman awaited him with a warm Hudson’s Bay blanket. Lena was the mother of the boys who helped Moonie run the hatchery. She was a widow, her husband having died in a logging accident in British Columbia three years earlier.

Because there hadn’t been a sweat lodge on the reservation for many years, there were ceremonies each day that week, with Moonie always taking part. Lena was always there at the end to warm him with the huge woollen blanket. Moonie worked at his atonement: by the end of the week, when he was the only one using the lodge, he was staying in the cold water for over two minutes. A month later it was closer to 10 minutes, and Moonie and Lena were the only ones in the lodge most mornings. Pippen, the young she-wolf, was by his side almost the entire time, sitting on the river bank while he sputtered about in the frigid water.

Occasionally the lodge was used by the people. Often parents with recalcitrant teens would send them to the lodge. Teenage delinquency was way down on the reservation since River had performed the ceremony in the river and taught the young people their history and their language, but there were still boys, and occasionally girls, who needed to be reminded of their place. The lodge was a convenient place to do that, and those parents who also insisted that their boys immerse themselves in the river as Moonie did, found that there were few repeat offenders.

It was late November when Moonie made his last dash into the water, staying nearly 10 minutes in the water, which had a thin coating of ice on it. Pippen eventually howled, and that roused Moonie from the trance he had fallen into. He was barely able to climb out of the water, and only made it because Lena, alerted by the wolf, was there to help him into the lodge. He lay on the floor of the sweat lodge for an hour after, and was unable to stop shivering. Lena finally took him to her home, one of the nicer ones on the reservation. Her late husband had made good money topping trees in BC, and invested it into his home during the off season.

The next morning Moonie tried to get up out of the bed he was in, delirious with fever, but insistent on going to the lodge. Lena sent one of her children for River, and they arrived to find Lena practically sitting on the weakened man. “The river is coated in ice, Moonie,” River told him. “Your punishment is over. You are ill. Rest here and let Lena look after you.”

With that the frail old man slumped back into the bed. In his delirium, he didn’t see River, but his youthful wife, and she had ordered him to let Lena look after him. Something broke within him: the decade long grief he suffered ended, and he meekly obeyed the younger First Nations woman. He spent nearly a week in bed, in fever at first, kept alive by Lena spooning chicken noodle soup into him: soup made from one of the older chickens from the hatchery.

When the fever finally broke, Moonie woke ravenous one morning. He looked to his left and saw a photo of Goldberry on the side table, along with one of the photo albums that Goldberry had put together of the good times. He then turned to the other side, and saw the ample curves of Lena, who was not a thin woman after six pregnancies and seven births. For a second Moonie was shocked at finding himself in bed with another woman, but then he remembered hearing Goldberry tell him to ‘let Lena look after you.’

Moonie never did move out of Lena’s house. The people of the town clucked like Moonie’s chickens over the old man and the woman nearly 30 years his junior, but the people of the river just smiled. The next spring there was a ceremony at the river, where River officiated, blessing their union. Lena’s youngest daughter held the picture of Goldberry during the ceremony, and as he was pronounced one of the people, Moonie thought he saw the face in the picture smile. Moonie was led into the water by River, and she sang as the river taught Moonie the history of the people, and the language. And when he came out of the water an hour later he looked 20 years younger.

In fact, that evening Lena and Moonie celebrated their union the traditional way, and nine months later Lena gave birth to a baby girl. She named her Goldberry, Goldie for short. No, she was not blonde, but had rich black hair and a complexion that befitted her mixed race heritage. She did, however, grow up to be a free spirit like her namesake, and many times Moonie looked at his daughter, the only child he had with Lena, and was certain he could see the original Goldberry in her personality and her actions.

Moonie himself lived long, thanks to the gift of the river, and was one of the last of the original hippies to die. He saw all his daughters marry, for he treated Lena’s children as his own. He saw his beloved Lena age, and finally die before him, but only slightly. He had mourned Goldberry for more than 10 years, but Lena only a week. They found his body in the river, near the town, and the new young doctor at the hospital gave the opinion that he had died of a heart attack, caused by the shock of the icy waters of the river on a 100-year-old body. But when River arrived with Moonie’s sons, she knew immediately that he had died of heartbreak, and the river had merely ended his suffering.

And now we leave the story of Lena and Moonie, and go back to our original tale.

River

By Dawn Natelle

Chapter 11

So far: Jerome the yearling wolf has died, but two new wolves have joined the people. One of them decides that Moonie can atone for his sins, and over time the river cleanses his soul. The story of Moonie was told, both before the time of this tale, and after.

As River and Wayne walked back to the Waters’ campsite, River continued to tease the big man. She reached up and stroked his chest, marvelling at the muscles she could feel.

“What?”

“Just checking to see if there were any boobs growing,” she giggled.

“What? No! Just because the river made you a girl, it doesn’t mean that it wants to do it to me too,” he claimed.

“Are you sure?” Giggle.

“Yes. It has given other gifts to people. It made your parents look younger, and your brother and his friend taller. It healed many of the elders and made my sisters better singers.”

“Yet it hasn’t given you any gift at all,” River noted glumly.

“I don’t know,” Wayne said, pulling River close to his body. “Perhaps you are my gift.”

For a moment time seemed to stand still for the pair. River looked up, and Wayne looked down, and for a moment it felt like they would kiss. Then, suddenly they both broke apart, and stood looking at each other and breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry,” Wayne said. “You are too young, and you are the Rivertalker. I shouldn’t …”

“I shouldn’t have teased you,” River said, completely off kilter from the emotions and sensations coursing through her body. “You will be going off to Western to the university in a few weeks, and I will be staying up here. We should just be friends.”

“Yes, just friends,” Wayne echoed, although his mind was crying out that if she were only a few years older, or he a few younger … He never finished that thought as they walked back to the campsite, keeping several feet between them.

Wayne left her and headed back to the JR camp, and River found her parents watching the embers of a dying fire. River explained what had happened after the funeral ceremony was over, and how Moonie was to build a sweat lodge.

“Where do you get all of this,” Dale asked. “I barely remember reading about sweat lodges when I was in school, and yet you come up with all this native lore.”

“The river gives it to me, and so much more,” River said.

“Well, it certainly has matured you,” Alison said. “You seem more like an adult than a child. Was that ceremony for the dog your idea?”

“He was not a dog, Mom. He was a wolf. And the ceremony was partly from the river, and partly from the traditions of the people.”

“Sorry,” Alison said. “They are so friendly I keep forgetting that they are wild animals. But these people, your people now, I guess; I really like them. To come together and grieve over an animal.”

“He was more than an animal, Mom. He was a friend.”

“A good friend. Do you know where the other wolf is? The big one?”

“Night? I haven’t seen him for a while. Why?”

“He is in the boys’ tent, lying out between the two of them. They were pretty shaken up by the death of Jerome and didn’t want to go to bed. Then Night just sauntered into the camp and herded them off to their tent, lying down with them. They have slept peacefully since then. Your Dad and I stayed up in case they had nightmares or anything. But the dog, I mean wolf, seems to have things in hand.”

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” River asked.

“Well, I am going to the construction site,” Dale said. “I want to get the men working on the walls of the second house, and we have to figure out the truss system for the first house … well, for all of them, eventually. But the first house is a priority, if we want to move out of these tents when the weather gets cold.”

“And I’m going to put on my new power suit, and canvass the town merchants and managers,” Alison said. “It is almost criminal that a town of this size doesn’t have a bank branch, and I hope to be able to convince my bosses to let me open a small one up here. What are your plans, honey?”

“Busy for me too,” River said. “I need to spend some time with the people of the reservation. They have been so good to me, and I hardly know more than a few families. Edith has promised to take me around tomorrow, and Liesl will come with me on the other days of the week. And of course I need to visit the river in the morning.”

“Well, it is late, and we all have busy days tomorrow, so let’s turn in,” Dale announced, pulling his youthful looking wife up and kissing her. River smiled at the PDA, and then headed off to her tent, at the JR camp, glad that she would be out of sound range in case the kiss led to something else.

River had come into the JR tent with both other girls sleeping, and got up a few hours later without them knowing she had been there. She wondered if she would need to find another place to sleep now that she was no longer working for the JR crew. Something to ask Wayne the next time she saw him. She walked in darkness to the river, aware of all the night animals in the trees and on the ground about her.

She spent several hours in the water of the river, soaking up its strength and energy, as well as the knowledge it could give her. When the sun came up she got out, as the first of the animals came out to drink. She smiled and waved at them, and could feel them smiling back at her in their unique animal ways. They felt safe when she was around. But River was on a mission, and not entirely sure where to start it. She walked downstream for a bit, and luck brought her to the person she was looking for, but not expecting to see for several hours.

She could see the man standing at Jerome’s grave, hunched over a bit. Beside him was Silver, the new wolf in the local pack. River walked up to them so silently that she was only a few feet away before even the wolf turned to look at her. Rod didn’t hear her at all, and jumped a little when she put her arm around him.

“Sorry to disturb you,” she said sadly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“A bit,” he said. “He was such a good friend. I will miss him. I can’t believe it was only a week that I had with him.”

“Yes,” River said. There was a long pause. “Again, this might be too soon, but the river and I had a long conversation this morning, and you were a part of it. Are you up for a challenge?”

Rod was quiet for a bit before speaking. “You know, I think I am. I think I’ve grown up a bit over the last day, and if the river needs me I am ready. What do you want?”

“You know how we had that ceremony last week, where all the people were taught the language and the history by the river? Since then the young people seem to be more focussed, and the older ones are no longer crippled by alcohol. People are proud to be Ojibwe, and I think the reservation is a better place for it.”

“I know,” Rod said. “I’ve heard many of the elders commenting. They give you the credit. They say you are the best thing to happen in their memories.”

River blushed. “It is not me. It is the river. It speaks to me, and I relay that to the people.” She shrugged. “But what we need now is to spread the message. There are dozens and dozens of little bands and reservations across the north, and we need to help them. The children in those communities are committing suicide at an alarming rate. I think we have stopped the causes here, but up there it will be harder, especially in the more remote places. I cannot go to them. I can’t leave the river. There are a couple of reservations on the river, but beyond that I can do nothing. I want you to be The Prophet, and go to those communities. Tell the people there of the history of the Ojibwe. Have those close enough to the river come and let it teach them the language. For those farther away, make it seem that a pilgrimage to the river should be a key part of every youngster’s life, so that they can stand in the river and learn.”

“Wow,” Rod said. “That is huge. I was thinking you wanted me to do something easy, like build a skyscraper out of Shield stone.”

River smiled. If nothing else, the idea seemed to have restored some of Rod’s sense of humor.

“I think it is too much for one man,” he finally said.

“Of course it is,” River smiled. “That is why I am sending women with you.”

“Women? Ria?”

“Definitely Ria,” River said. “Especially since I also want Wayne’s sisters Shelly and Marilyn to join you. You can even have this young fellow go along, although I doubt I could keep him away.” She reached down and stroked Silver between his ears. “When you approach a band and they see that you are wolf-friends, you will gain instant credibility. Shelly and Marilyn will sing the songs of the people. Once they get away from the river reservations, they will have to alternate verses in English and Ojibwe, but that will help the people pick up some of the language.”

“Where do we start?”

“Upriver at first. You can canoe up as far as Stone Ledge Reservation. It will be best to arrive by traditional means. Flying in is the way of the white man, and I think your message will work best with more of the traditional ways. You can travel in jeans, but take your pow-wow costumes to speak to the people in. After Stone Ledge the river is too small and shallow for canoes, so you will have to hike until you get to Ice Spring Reservation. The river assures me that if you lead the people into the waters, even if it is only ankle deep, it will be able to teach the people. It will give you confidence knowing that the river is right there. If you don’t know what to say, or what to do, just step into the river. The water will be cold, but bearable, and you will gain the knowledge you need.”

“That is a relief.”

“Also, I want you to do more than teach the people. I need you to find the ‘diamonds’. Those are the painters, the sculptors, the seamstresses, the craftsmen and the builders. I know the people on those reservations live mainly from hunting, fishing, and what little crops they can eke out of the stones. They rely on welfare for everything else. I want to find out what they can produce that we can sell to the white people. Every dollar that they earn of their own efforts adds to their pride and strength as Ojibwe men and women.”

Rod seemed energized by his new mission. He headed off to see Ria, before she headed to her waitressing job. She would have to leave that. Hopefully another one of the band girls would get it, River thought as she wandered over to the Stormcloud home, hoping to see Shelly and Marilyn. Both of these girls also needed a mission in life, to help them forget their recent past.

The girls were up and getting breakfast with their mom, Helen. River didn’t need breakfast, but Helen wouldn’t take no for an answer, and the blonde girl soon had a plate of eggs and sausage in front of her. River wondered if it was even possible for her to get fat if she overate. Would the river compensate? Another question to ask.

Once Ben got up, River outlined the project to the four of them, as Liesl looked after feeding the smaller ones. The girls were instantly in favor of going on the adventure, but the parents required more convincing. Finally it was decided that they could go with Ria and Rod on the first trip up the river, and then a decision would be made as to future trips. Ben almost vetoed the entire trip, but then Helen reminded him what had happened the last times he had done that. Both Marilyn, and later Shelly, had fled to Sault Ste. Marie.

“I don’t know what the world is coming to,” he said. “Young people today never mind their elders.”

Helen smiled. “I remember a young boy who wooed me many years ago, in spite of our parents saying we were too young. I think you have selective memory loss.”

“Papa,” Shelly said. “If you insist we not go, we will not. We did run away once, but that turned out horribly and we just want to forget it. This trip, canoeing through the Shield, meeting new bands, I think it will help us.” Marilyn nodded in agreement.

“My daughters have learned some wisdom,” Ben said. “I give my blessing to your trip … if you take my best canoes. I won’t have you out on the river in something shoddy.”

With that done, River thanked the family for breakfast and headed off to find Edith. They had a roster of people to visit today, and River hoped that during the rest of the week she would be able to visit with all of the people of the river.

“Do you have any preferences?” Edith asked as she met the new Rivertalker outside her house. “We have three different ways to go … unless we are to go wading in the river.”

“Been there, done that,” River giggled. “Actually, I was astounded when I saw the canoes and snowshoes that Ben Stormcloud makes. I want to meet any more craftsmen, artists, weavers, seamstresses, painters, or sculptors amongst the people. And if there are any computer experts about, that would help too. I hope we can use the Internet to sell some of the beautiful things the people make.”

“What a wonderful idea,” Edith said. “I know just the person for the last case, but we should leave him for the end. Colin is not an early riser. But let’s go see Carl Bluelake. He is a wonderful painter.”

Carl was a couple years older than Wayne, but nothing like him, River noticed. Carl was very tall, and very thin, almost reed-like. He had a nervous twitch about him, and seemed jumpy when his mother called him after River and Edith arrived.

“River would like to see some of your paintings,” Edith said. Carl protested that the works were not done, not ready to be seen, and could he please have some time to clean up his studio.

River took hold of the youth’s arm, and almost instantly he calmed down, staring down at the pretty young girl.

“Okay,” he said, leading them off to his studio, the converted bedroom of an older brother who had married and left the family home.

The studio was a mess, and Carl started getting nervous again until River spoke again, calming him. Then her eyes caught sight of a familiar scene. A large canvas … no, it was painted on a coil of birchbark stretched on a wooden frame … showed her precious river, meandering around a curve. It was a point on the river she recognized, not too far from Jerome’s resting place. Then she looked closer at the painting. In the distance, she saw many people standing on the banks of the river, and even though they were only a half-inch tall on the painting, she could recognize faces.

River gasped. She had followed the sightlines of the people on the bank, and saw they were all intently focused on a small blonde figure standing in mid-stream. “That’s me! The first river ceremony?”

“Yes,” Carl said. “It isn’t finished yet, but it will be soon.”

“How much would it cost to buy it?” River asked.

“I’m sorry,” the tall man said. “It is already promised. And I don’t sell my paintings. I give them away.”

“What?” River protested. “The store doesn’t give away its food and clothes to you, does it? You need to get paid fairly for your work.”

“But it isn’t work,” Carl protested. “I do my paintings from the love in my heart.”

“Manitou has given you a talent,” River replied. “It is important that you honor him by using it. Soon you will have a family to raise, and will need to make money for them. To stop painting and go to work in another job would be ridiculous. You have a gift, and you need to start to sell your paintings.”

“They aren’t that good,” Carl said.

“Yes they are. Can I look at these others?” River pointed to another stack of frames and started to flip through, seeing one masterpiece after another. Many of paintings were landscapes, showing the beauty of the natural wonderland that the river flowed through. The river itself was in more than half of those. There were a few paintings of the people as well, some showing the rickety houses and yards. There was a gorgeous painting of a wolf. River didn’t recognize it as one of the band wolves, and asked about it.

“That one is from a couple years ago,” Carl said. “The wolf came up quite close to me. Well, close for that time. It was probably 50 yards away, and just sat there staring at me as I sketched it. I know the band pack come closer to us now, but at that time it seemed a miracle that he came so close, and then waited so long before running off. I tracked the pack for several days later to get the colors right.”

River gasped. “It is the Alpha male! He looks so young in that painting.”

“It was before he became Alpha. Look, the scar over his eye is not there yet. I think he got that when he finally challenged the old Alpha.

River flipped to the next picture, and gasped again. It was a large frame, nearly a yard high and 20 inches wide. And it blazed with the color yellow. It was a painting of a young girl, with long blonde braids that almost merged with the sun behind her. “Is that me?” River said in a whisper.

“Yes it is,” Carl said. “It was the first painting I did after I met you at the ceremony. I was pretty consumed by it, and worked long into the nights on it. I make most of my paints myself, from natural materials, but yellow like that could only be bought. I ordered a tube from Sault. That is why the picture of the river has everyone so small. I had to tear open the tube and scrape out the remnants of the paint to get enough yellow to do that small figure.”

“She’s beautiful,” River was still whispering.

“You are beautiful,” Carl protested.

“I am not, am I?” River looked at Edith for confirmation.

“Yes, dear. It is a very close likeness. I don’t know if any of the other artists of the band could have captured you so well.”

River just stared at the image. She hadn’t really looked at herself, except in the waters of the river, and that was always a moving image, with waves, and at an awkward angle. Even during the shopping expeditions in town and in the Sault, she hadn’t bought much, so hadn’t looked into mirrors. Now to see how perfect this image was, she had to flip it over to break the hold it held on her. There were no more pictures behind.

“I want to sell these pictures for you,” she said. “I need you to go through the paintings and tell me how long it took you to paint each one, roughly if need be. I think that your kind of talent should be worth $100 an hour.”

Carl choked at the figure. “The wolf picture took 35 or 40 hours to sketch and then paint, not counting the time I spend tracking the pack to get the colors right. Do you really think that anyone would pay $4000 for that painting?”

“I do,” River insisted. “And you need to include the time you spent tracking. I would price that painting at $10,000 and accept nothing less.”

“How many hours were spent painting the river ceremony painting?” Edith asked.

“That was mostly done before River came to us,” Carl said. “I only spent a day adding River and the people on the bank. I guess that I had spent 30 or 40 hours before on the original scene.”

“I know that you gifted the painting to the band council,” Edith said. “But I am going to ask that they pay you a $1000 honorarium for it at the next meeting. A few will object, but when I point out that it is a $4000 painting, they will all fall in line.”

“A painting of me will be in the council offices?” River said in amazement.

“It is not just a painting of you, my dear,” Edith said. “It is a record of one of the most important events of our lifetime, for this band at least. It shows the river, you, and the time when the people regained their sense of purpose, learned their language, and began to remember their history. How can we not commemorate this?”

River was in a bit of a daze after they left Carl’s studio. Edith seemed to feel River wanted to see more artists, so they visited five more before late afternoon. Three of these were good, good enough for their work to be sold. The other two were younger teens, and River could see real promise in their works, and suggested that they meet with Carl and the other three, to learn new styles and techniques from the experts in the band.

It was nearly four when they arrived at Colin RedHawk’s home. His mother let them in, and chatted with Edith while River went to Colin’s room. Colin was only 16, and for a moment River thought him impossibly young, until she realized that he was two years older than her. She had spent so much of her time with adults lately, she had forgotten that she was still only 14.

Colin was proof that ‘nerd’ is not restricted to any one race or culture. The boy was short and thin, with a somewhat oversized head. His face was afflicted by severe acne, almost to the point where River had to work not to stare at the sores and scars. The poor boy had a scruffy beard, too thin to cover the acne, but he probably let it grow to allow him to not have to shave over the sores.

She explained her goals to Colin. She wanted a website built that would allow the artists and craftspeople of the reservation to sell their goods to the Toronto market. That was about all she needed to say, as Colin went into a spiel where he talked about banner ads, search engine optimization, bandwidth, URLs and URIs, pay pals and e-commerce and much, much more. When he finally wound down River was pretty sure that Colin could do what she wanted, but she really didn’t understand any of the questions he had asked, or any of the terms he had used. She needed help.

“Edith, Mrs. RedHawk, Colin and I are going for a little walk down by the river,” River said as they walked out the door.

“Don’t you go into the river, Colin,” his mother warned. “You know it is too cold for you.”

“Maybe just a bit,” River said, and then the two slipped out before she could repeat her warning.

At the river, she led the boy into the water, and then out into the middle of the river. Colin was surprised to find that the water was quite comfortable when he was close to River. And soon the river and Colin started to piece together what was needed for the website. Apparently Colin had a satellite dish that enabled him fast access to the Internet, since only dialup service was available to most of the community. The river was somehow technologically aware, and was able to feed Colin some new knowledge to sharpen his understanding of the Internet protocols and technologies. River only picked up a fraction of what Colin learned, but now understood the basics of the Internet, and was able to understand about half of what Colin had told her earlier.

After about a half hour they emerged from the water, their clothes completely dry again. River looked at Colin, and gasped. His acne was completely gone. His beard was gone as well, although the river told her that he would probably have to shave once a week or so, like most 16-year-old boys.

“What,” Colin said, as she stared at his face. He immediately reddened, thinking she was staring at his acne, but when he put his hand to his face, he found only smooth skin. “What happened?”

“Sometimes the river will give people a gift,” River explained. “I think it has cleared up your complexion for you. You look quite handsome now”

“Wow. Do I?” Colin said, rushing back to the house to look in a mirror. “All the kids at school teased me last year. I was crater face, or pizza puss.”

“Well this year I don’t think that will happen. I’ll bet the girls, at least, will be happy to see the new you.”

Colin rushed into the house, and his mother didn’t recognize her son as he rushed past her towards the bathroom mirror. “Colin,” she said. “Is that you? What happened to your face?” She followed her son to the bathroom as Edith and River left the house and walked back to the campsite, where River hoped she would be in time to join her family for dinner. Edith declined to join her, and headed to her son’s home to dine with her own clan.

River

By Dawn Natelle

CHAPTER 12

So far: River had a productive Monday, visiting many of the artists on the reservation. Tomorrow she and Liesl would visit some of the crafts people. River is heading back to the campsite to see how her mother and father made out in their days.

River arrived at the campsite in time to help clean up the dishes. The boys had spent the day at the river, running wild, claiming they were fishing. They did catch one, in the traditional way, not River’s bear-style. According to the boys it was a huge beast, that needed both their efforts to land, but then Alison pointed out that that the result was only a portion of a small meal for the two of them; each needed a hotdog to fill up. This told River that the fish would not have been that large. At least she was glad to know that the boys were back to having fun. They said that Night had spent most of the day with them, only running off for a short time while they fished, returning soon after, licking blood off his muzzle.

“Probably caught a rabbit,” River noted.

“Yuck,” Alison said.

“Don’t be squeamish,” River giggled. “Night probably thinks you and Dad are insane for throwing perfectly good dead cow onto a fire.”

“Dead cow?” Paul questioned, and then suddenly made the connection to the steaks that Alison and Dale had eaten for dinner. “Yuck, yuck, yuck. I’m going to be a vegetarian. No way will I eat dead cow.”

“You know that your hotdogs are probably at least partly beef, and dead pig otherwise,” River teased.

“Oh. I never thought about that,” the boy said.

“It is important to know where your food comes from, and I don’t mean Loblaws or Dominion (Canadian grocery chains). Manitou, or God, if you are talking to people back in Toronto, put the animals on the earth as part of a system, where one animal is the food for another. Cows and pigs, for instance, would be rare animals if humans were not tending and feeding them. In return, they feed us. It is all a part of the cycle of life. But almost all our food is dead-something. Plants are alive too, and a part of Manitou’s plan. They feed us too.”

“But we do not feed them,” Mark said.

“Don’t we? Do you think the crops in the field just grow that way naturally? Or does a farmer plant them and tend them?” River asked. “I spoke to an elder today, and she told me that the people of the River decided that when the pulp mill was built in 1960, the people would not let the loggers clear the land. Instead they restricted them to certain areas, and then replanted the areas after they had been cut down. This let the animals still have a place to live, and those trees planted in the 60s are now being harvested. It keeps the plant open to this day, while Terrace Bay and other plants have been closed because there are no trees close enough to harvest. Here they are able to continue to harvest trees economically. That is why the Junior Rangers plant trees to this day. ”

“I did not realize that,” Alison said. “I spent the day walking up and down main street, and I don’t think that many in the town know that the band is the reason the plant still exists here. Mostly they complain about the ‘lazy’ natives. Mr. Churchill at the liquor store certainly isn’t a fan of yours in particular. He claims his sales for the week are way down, with hardly any of the natives buying liquor or beer with their welfare checks. He’s got this great huge store, but only uses a tiny corner of it, and says that he isn’t making money anymore.”

River perked up: “He has extra store space? I mean, an empty space?”

“Yes, mostly boarded off so he doesn’t have to heat it. Apparently it was a Northern Store and Outfitters at one time, but closed down after Y2K because it was so close to the Terrace Bay branch. Mr. Churchill said his wife was the manager, and she got transferred down to Sault at the time to work in a Hudson’s Bay store. I heard others mention later that their marriage had been pretty shaky anyway. But Nelson, Mr. Churchill that is, got the building for a song, and kept the liquor agency going, making a good living. At least up until now, that is.”

“It sounds like you picked up more gossip than facts,” Dale joked.

“No, I have all the data I need. Not that this isn’t a gossipy little town. But I’m going to need to get it all written up into a report, and a presentation. I’ve already called the bank and I have a meeting downtown with Mr. Winslow, the Vice President in charge of properties, on Tuesday after we get back in the Toronto. I just need some time on the computer to put everything together before then.”

“Hmm,” Dale said. “We should have bought a second laptop. I am using it all day designing trusses and ordering supplies for the houses we are building.”

Alison looked disappointed. “Surely you don’t need the computer all the time. I mean, you have to be managing … stuff, don’t you? I could use it between times.”

“I don’t know,” Dale said. “I really do only spend about 10 percent of my time on it, but I need it with me at those times.”

“Well,” River said. “Why doesn’t Mom set up shop at one of the construction places and work there? It has to be better than working here in a tent on a battery. She can stop when you need to do something, and then take it back when you are done.”

“That would work,” Alison said hopefully. “But what about the boys?”

“They looked after themselves today, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” Alison said, ignoring the cheers for the boys at the idea of another unsupervised day. “But they did have the wolf looking after them.”

“Night will look after them tomorrow,” River said.

“How do you know that without asking?” Dale said.

“I did ask.”

“How … never mind. I’ll never understand you anyway,” Dale said.

“You two head off to the construction site tomorrow. I have Liesl taking me to some of the other people in the reservation tomorrow. The boys will be fine with Night.”

The next morning River was in the river before dawn, as normal. She reviewed what she had done on the day before, and the river agreed with many of her ideas. It also gave her some suggestions for the day. For one thing, she would be with Liesl, and on foot, and should try to stay in a concentrated area. The river suggested that the far eastern edge of the reserve was a good place to start, with about five families in that cluster. Wayne could drive them out before he needed to start work with the JRs, and come back and get them at lunch time and drive them to a place at the east end, but nearer to the highway. From there they would be able to walk back. The river warned that the girls were not to travel alone, even on the reservation, and River looked up and saw one of the wolves on the bank. It was Kemosabe, which one of the wags on the reservation had named after the Lone Ranger. Apparently it was not a show well liked by the First Nations peoples.

Just prior to dawn, River and Kemosabe walked to the Stormcloud home, where she found Liesl was already up and eating her breakfast. The young girl was clearly excited at the idea of spending a day with River, and had been up for an hour, to the dismay of her mother, who had also gotten out of bed before dawn. That meant that there were eggs and biscuits for River’s breakfast, which she ate slowly as they waited for Wayne. The river had said he would pick them up there, and he did, rolling up at about 8 a.m.

“I was told that you wanted me,” he said to River.

“Just a ride over to eastern edge of the reserve,” River said. “And maybe at lunch a quick trip down to near the highway?”

“Sure,” Wayne said sniffing the aroma of his mother’s biscuits. “Are we in a hurry?”

“No,” River giggled. “Take your time. Just remember that you have to get back to your JRs by nine.”

“Lots of time,” Wayne said as he stuffed himself with bacon, eggs and those delightful biscuits. “Food is pretty good at the JR camp, but nothing like Mom’s.”

Helen beamed, and managed to put together another full plate for her eldest son before the others in the family followed their noses into the kitchen. Wayne grabbed a final biscuit, and mopped his plate clean with it as he called the girls out to the truck with a full mouth. Kemosabe jumped into the bed.

“Totally worth it,” he said. “Consider your taxi fare paid by Mom, in full. She makes the best biscuits in the country.”

“Uhm, I made those biscuits,” Liesl said shyly. “I was up early, then Mom got up and it was too early for breakfast, so Mom taught me how to make them. Did you really like them?”

Wayne stared at his little sister for a second as he drove, and seemed to notice that she was growing up. “Yes sweetie, I did. Those were just as good as Mom’s. I’ve tasted Marilyn’s, and they aren’t horrible, but Shelly keeps mistaking biscuit for river-stones. You could lose a tooth on hers. I guess you are going to be the next great Stormcloud baker.”

Liesl beamed the rest of the quick trip. As they approached the reservation edge, River could see a big factory in the distance, spewing smoke from four chimneys spaced along it. “What is that?” she asked with a grimace.

“It is the pulp mill,” Wayne said. “Most of that is just steam coming out. It is on reserve land, and the lease says that they cannot pollute the air or the water. The real border of our land is on the other side, but we all consider this the edge, because this is the last area with people living here.”

River sniffed the air, but didn’t smell anything unusual, so had to agree with Wayne’s assessment. The early morning wind was from the east, so if there were anything noxious, she was pretty sure that she would smell it.

She got out of the truck at the end of a lane. Wayne refused to drive all the way up to the tiny house, saying that there was often rusty metal in the road, and he didn’t want to have to replace a tire. Kemosabe jumped out after them. As River and Liesl walked the short distance in, River could understand his concern.

The land was several acres, with a tiny cabin about 8 by 10 feet in size, and a larger building behind. But almost every inch of the property was covered by junk. There were old fridges and washing machines, old cars, and parts of cars, even an old school bus or two. River thought she recognized some of the debris that she had helped pull out of the river when she had cleaned it up. Was this a home, or the town dump?

They walked to the house, and then heard clanging coming from the barn behind. River tapped on the door, not really expecting an answer, and then the girls walked around to the back building, where the clanging had ended, but a grinder was apparently in use. They walked in the great open barn door, and saw a tall, thin native boy, or man, about Wayne’s age, using a grinder on … something. There was a trail of sparks running across the floor from the grinder, lighting the barn up enough that River could see another man in the back, facing away, and operating a welding torch by the look of it.

“Hello,” River shouted once the grinder shut down. The man-boy looked up and grinned from ear to ear. Howdy Doody, River thought with a giggle. He looks like a First Nations’ Howdy Doody. She had once gotten a coloring book about the old-time puppet from a relative when she was little.

“Welcome, welcome,” the man said. “Hi Liesl? How are the parents?” Liesl nodded. Among the people on the reserve, there were no strangers. But River felt she needed to introduce herself.

“Hi, I’m River Waters,” she said.

“Oh I know, the rivertalker” he said. “I’m Kyle. Kyle Audette What brings you out to our little shop? George and I own this place. Welding, fabricating, and auto parts supply, if you can find what you need in the grass. And if you can’t, we can usually make something else fit.”

He said ‘George’ in a loving way that made River think that the pair were partners in more than a business relationship. They would be the first same sex partners that she had met on the reserve, although the River had explained to her about Two-spirited people and she was fine with it.

“Liesl is taking me around to meet some of the people. I guess you all know me, from the ceremonies and such, but I want to get to know you folk, and what you all do. The people in town all think the natives just sit around and wait for welfare checks, but I am finding that is not so.”

“Ha! Not here,” Kyle said. River wondered if it was possible that that grin might actually split his face. Is this where South Park got its depiction of Canadians? “They know to come up here when they have something broken. I’m pretty good at fixing anything. Rod Ravensclaw is pretty good with cars and stuff, but I’ve got the equipment to beat even him.”

“I see,” River said, but Kyle just kept rambling on.

“George and I were at your ceremony at the river. It was so inspiring to hear you speak, and for the river to teach us the language. George and I talk Ojibwe to each other a lot. It is especially sexy in the bed, you know.”

River was about to note that no, she didn’t know. Apparently her guess about the pair had been correct.

“Oh my. My manners. George,” Kyle shouted. “George. GEORGE.”

The welding stopped, and the man took off his welding helmet, showing long dark hair like many of the native males sported. But then he turned to face them, and River was shocked. George had breasts. Huge breasts. She was more than a little overweight, and from the back, in coveralls, she had looked like a man, a bit, but River realized now that there was too much hip for a man. Her face was round and cheerful, and definitely female. She spoke with a voice that was deep for a woman, but nothing like that of a man.

“Kyle,” she said. “Who … oh, it is the rivertalker, and Liesl. Welcome to our little shop. I can’t talk much now. I have to keep this bead going. Have Kyle show you around, and I’ll get to you when I finish.” With that she turned back to her work and slapped the helmet down.

“George?” River said.

“Short for Georgette, my partner,” Kyle said, unclear about the confusion.

“Oh my. You thought …,” Liesl giggled, unable to continue.

River shot her a stare. From now on she would have the girl brief her on who they were going to see. Kyle never did catch on.

“Is there anything I can show you?” Kyle said.

“Well, I am just interested in getting to know you, and what you are doing. What is this?
River pointed at the odd contraption that Kyle had been working on when they came in.

“It is my golf ball extractor,” Kyle said enthusiastically. “You can run it along a river or pond at a golf course, and it will scoop up all the golf balls. Then you can sell them. I’ve almost finished it.”

“I see,” River said. “Are there many golf courses around here?”

“Not really. A couple in the Sault, and some in Thunder Bay. None really close.”

“And how much does a used golf ball get you?”

“Only a dollar or so. Maybe 50 cents.”

“So how do you make money with this?”

Kyle looked a bit dejected. “I guess it isn’t really that practical. But when I get an idea for something, then I just have to build it. I’ll probably take it to some golf courses to show, and if they are interested I’ll just give it to them, maybe get a dinner or so for George and me.”

“It looks just like a Rube Goldberg creation,” River noted.

“You know Rube Goldberg?” Kyle said, the huge smile returning. “He is my hero. I absolutely idolize him. Someday I will build something worthy of him.”

“Why not now?” River said. “I have an idea. What if there was a real Rube Goldberg kind of thing on main street in town. It would be completely powered by people, maybe with a bicycle to raise a billiard ball, and then using gravity to take it from there. People who are driving through would see it and stop to let their kids play on it. The kids get tired and grumpy from just sitting in a car, and getting them moving again will make them happy.”

“I like the idea of making kids happy,” Kyle said.

“It would make the parents happy too,” River said. “They wouldn’t have grumpy kids anymore, and they might even stop and buy some things in town, or at least have lunch here.”

“That sounds so cool,” Liesl spouted out. “My friends would love it, and I bet the town kids would too.”

“Oh gawd, oh gawd, I have to get some paper. Ideas are just erupting out of my brain and I have to get them down,” Kyle said, rushing off to a messy work desk in the corner.

“What have you done to my man?” George said with a giggle as Kyle rushed off to his desk and started sketching. “If you’ve broken him, I’ll make you pay,” she joked.

“Maybe we’ve damaged him. Or at least turned him on. I just gave him an idea …”

“No ideas,” George laughed. “Definitely do not give that man any ideas. He has more than enough of them. Has he shown you around much?”

“Not really. He showed us this thing, and I mentioned it looked like a Rube Goldberg creation. And I suggested he build one for the town: a Rube Goldberg device. I don’t know what we could use a golf ball extractor for.”

“That explains that,” she said, glancing lovingly at the man. River then explained her mission and asked about arts and crafts.

“We do that,” George said. “We get a lot of cars in here. Any wrecks on the highway at least, or ones from the town. Mostly the reserve folk just run theirs until they fall apart. And then we take the parts. A lot of the metal gets used in projects. We just make what we can from the bits and pieces. Like this fellow.” She pointed to a huge structure in the corner of the barn.

It was about 25 feet tall, and was a kind of a Pacific First Nations totem pole, but built entirely of auto parts welded together. It was massive, and River could immediately see that it would be a great showpiece for an auto dealer or auto parts store down in southern Ontario.

“That could sell,” River said. “How many hours of work are in that?”

George thought about it for a moment, and said: “I couldn’t really say. We both worked on it for months, around our other jobs. Kyle designed it, and pulled the parts from the wrecks around the yard. I just welded it together using his mad plan. I guess there are maybe 500 hours between the two of us.”

River calculated in her head. Because there was a lot of equipment involved, she used an hourly rate of $150 for the shop. “It could sell for $75,000,” she mused, not realizing she had spoken aloud.

George’s mouth dropped. “You’re kidding? We’ve never made more than $200 a month around here, and that almost all goes back into welding supplies.”

“Oh? What do you sell?”

“Over here,” George said, taking them to another corner of the barn. “These are mostly made from old tires. We get a lot of them, wrecks and retreads. We make them into these.”

There were about 10 different products in a pile, with multiples of most, all made from old tires. Planters, steps, chairs, wishing wells and, catching both Liesl and River’s eyes were toys for little kids. There were swings shaped like bugs, rocking horses made out of a halved tire, sandboxes, a snake creeping through the grass made of staggered half tires, and especially a thunderbird/dragon shape made of a tire with the bottom half of the tire being the body, and the top half cut apart to form a head and a long tail. River looked closely at it and saw that it would be perfect for a toddler, since the two side beads had been left and would cradle the child so it couldn’t fall out.

River wondered how old a child would be interested in this, and soon learned, as Liesl tried to crawl into it, and found herself wedged. “I’m too big,” she whined.

“For that one,” George said, helping her crawl out. “We have made some from truck tires in the past. I think there are a few bigger tires out back. Tell you what, I’ll make you one for bringing the rivertalker out to talk to us. Your Dad is handy, he will be able to put it up for you.”

Liesl’s eyes went wide. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you. My little sisters and brother will love it too.”

“How much do you get for making these?” River asked.

“We get $10 per tire used,” George said. “$15 if we supply the tires. There is a guy from Barrie who comes up every couple of months and buys whatever we have and gives us tires he has collected. He sells them in flea markets down south,”

“For a lot more than $15 each,” River guessed. “Next time he comes up, tell him there is a new pricing. For the basic stuff, you get $30 each. And he gives you the tires free. He is collecting a disposal fee from garages and such on the way up, then selling them to you for $5.”

“But for the dragons, I’m sure he is selling them for $100 each. They are gorgeous. He deserves to make a profit, but 50% is more than fair. Sell them to him for $50 each.”

“But what if he refuses? We need the money for welding supplies,” George complained.

“He won’t. He needs stuff to sell. He is just going to have to pay a bit more for it. He might try to con you by driving away. If he isn’t back in 15 minutes, have Kyle take your pickup truck out on the road to Sault. He won’t take those tries back south, and will try to dump them somewhere, I bet. Kyle can just load them up and bring them back here, and we will sell your stuff direct through the web page we are building. But I think he won’t go more than a half hour out of town before he comes back and accepts your deal. Does he deal in cash?”

“Yes, always,” she said.

“Then he will probably complain he doesn’t have enough money. If he does, then take what he normally pays, but give him a bill for the rest. Let him know that if it isn’t paid in a month, it goes up by 2%. And if he doesn’t pay at all, he will need to find another supplier. Don’t sell him anything until the account is clear.”

The girls chatted a while longer, and then River went over to peer over Kyle’s shoulder as he excitedly explained his sketches. River made a few more suggestions, and watched as Kyle’s face lit up as he saw what she wanted and started brewing more wild ideas of his own.

“You broke my man again, didn’t you,” George laughed as River walked back. George then walked with River and Liesl to their next house, which was apparently Anna Audette.

Thanks again to Eric for a tremendous editing job. Another chapter is complete, so look for it next weekend after he finishes working his magic with it.

River

By Dawn Natelle

Chapter 13

So far: River met with her family, and got an update on their activities. The next morning River and Liesl got a ride with Wayne to the edge of the reserve to visit with an interesting couple. After visiting one shop in the morning, she was headed to another home.

A little early on this posting, and a bonus -- two chapters for the price of one. The first chapter started off a bit short, so I added the next chapter, which went a little long. Hope you are all okay with it. As well, we introduce the first truly transgender person into the story, in Chapter 14. Thanks again to Eric for editing this.

“Anna Audette?” River asked George. “Is she related to Kyle?”

George chuckled. “No. Or at least not closely. There are five different families named Audette on the reserve, and six with the last name of George. Not me, luckily. Imagine being named Georgette George,” she giggled. “Apparently back in the 1800s there were Indian agents who went around registering us for the government, and when the agent couldn’t translate the Ojibwe word they just made a last name up. One agent, a Frenchman apparently, used his own last name, Audette, for many of the people. Another agent used the King’s name, so everyone he registered became ‘Somebody George’.”

By that time they had reached the home of Anna Audette, and George left them when a short, slight woman answered the door. Like all the other people River had met recently, she was gracious in inviting the rivertalker in, as well as Liesl. Kemosabe was even admitted to the tidy little house, and promptly curled up in a corner, never taking his eyes off the women. River explained her quest to find craftspeople on the reserve.

“I’m sorry that you won’t find anything like that here,” Anna said. “I’m not very talented at all. I do a bit of sewing, but nothing as fancy as the deerskins that you are wearing.”

“What do you sew?” River prodded. “The dress you are wearing is beautiful.”

“This old thing? It is just something I made from a picture in a magazine.” Anna said. “The fabric is pretty basic. Nothing fancy like the lady in the magazine. And of course I am not tall and skinny like the girl in the magazine was.”

“No, the people in magazines really aren’t very realistic in terms of their shapes,” River said. “Have you ever thought of incorporating native artwork into your sewing?”

“Not really. I do put some designs onto my shoes, but never on my dresses.”

“Shoes? Do you make shoes as well?” River asked.

“Makizins,” Anna explained. I make them out of moose and deer hide. Moose for the soles, and deer for the sides and linings. “Here. I have a pair that I have just finished making. Try them on.”

River pulled off her sneakers and put on the moccasins. Her eyes widened as she walked around the room in them. “These are wonderful,” she exclaimed. “So much more comfortable than those old shoes. How can you not claim to be crafty? These would sell like crazy.”

“Almost half the women on the reserve can make them. They are nothing special. We make several kinds. Short ones like those for summer, and higher ones, like boots, for winter. Then we make knee high ones for the men who hunt in the winter.”

River’s brain was spinning. A cottage industry with all the native women making moccasins … no, makizins … the Ojibwe word has the advantage that it could be trademarked. She needed to get hold of a lawyer somehow to look into legal issues. There was so much to do. Then all they needed to do is to get one Hollywood starlet to try these wonderful shoes and there would suddenly be a world-wide craze for them.

“If those fit you so well,” Anna was saying, “I want you to keep them.”

“Oh I couldn’t,” River said.

“I would be so honored if the rivertalker was wearing my makizins,” Anna said proudly, with a questioning look.

“In that case, I am honored to wear them,” River said.

Before long Anna had found a smaller pair of makizins for Liesl, who was thrilled to have them, putting both River’s and her running shoes into her knapsack so that they could proudly wear Anna’s footwear to their next stop. Anna accompanied them to April Audette’s cabin, not far away.

April’s home was a bit larger, since she lived with her husband, who worked on the seaway lake ships that travelled from Thunder Bay or Duluth down to Montreal during the season. He was currently away on a voyage. April was a photographer, and her home had her work covering her walls. River was astounded at scenes depicting the beauty of the Canadian Shield from season to season. Just looking at the Shield could seem to be only a random bunch of rocks, with a scraggly looking tree or two trying to work their way through the stones. But April’s work was amazing, and the balance and lighting could make that same boring scene vibrant and beautiful.

April showed River and Liesl the most recent work, and River stopped at one picture, showing a bereft Rod bent over the grave of Jerome the slain wolf. The image was so touching, it brought tears to River’s eyes. Then, the next picture in the pile was of Jerome himself, alive and vibrant, with his head stuck out of passenger window of Rod’s old pickup, his long pink tongue lolling out of his mouth, and a carefree smile on his face. “I will buy this one,” River said. “It will be a gift for Rod.”

April said: “I already planned to give that to Rod for Christmas. I am just waiting until my husband, Richard, comes back from the boats. When the lake freezes up, he is off for several months and he spends the time carving frames for me. This picture isn’t appropriate for any of the frames he has already made for me, so I will wait until he comes home to get one for it.”

Then River turned over to the next picture in the stack, and saw herself holding a tiny four month old native child, with his dark hair and skin contrasting against her blondness and pale skin. “I remember that. It was the first ceremony at the river, wasn’t it? I carried two babies into the river, and he was the first one handed to me. He was such a cutie.” The baby had a look of bliss on his face as he stared up into River’s eyes as she leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead.

“Look,” Liesl noted. “All the people in the background are blurry. You can see Edith there, barely, but everyone further back is just a blur.”

“That is depth of field,” April explained. “I used a telephoto lens, because I was quite a distance away. If I had used a wide angle lens, everyone would have been in focus, but I would have had to be much closer when I took the picture. Everyone was moving around, and often people were standing in front of you. I got lucky: someone moved out of the way just as you went to kiss him. A second later and the view was blocked again.”

“That was an important day for me too,” April continued. “I don’t know why I brought my camera when I came to the ceremony, but for some reason I did. Then, when you called all the adults into the water I was afraid that my camera would get wet. As soon as I stepped into the water, the river told me that I shouldn’t worry. So instead of just standing at the edge of the water, as I planned, I walked fully into the water, even though my camera was getting wet.”

“Wait,” River said. “The river spoke to you?”

“It did. As well as teaching me the history of the people, and the language, it told me that I was special. I was to be the Chronicler, and should record the people in every way possible. Before then I almost always just took pictures of landscapes, but the river wants me to chronicle the people: how they live, where they live, and what they do. Most days since then I have been out taking pictures of the people and their houses, sometimes with them working on their crafts and projects, if they do them, if not then just doing simple things like making dinner, or cleaning the house.”

“Wow,” River said. “I thought I was the only person the river spoke to. Does it warm the water for you? Keep your clothes dry?”

“It doesn’t talk often,” April said. “And while it makes the water warm for me, I don’t think it would for anyone with me. And my clothes do get wet, though they tend to dry quickly. But my camera can be completely under water and it won’t get wet. It is a digital, and water would normally short it out, but none seems to come into it. I was even able to get some great shots of a beaver pulling a branch through the water to build a lodge.”

Liesl squealed when she saw the picture of the industrious beaver, and River had to admit that the picture was quite cute. April told her that she could have the print, and that River could have the one of her with the baby.

River had learned not to refuse gifts from the people, but she insisted that April sign each of the prints, and then add the date and the notation of 1/100 under it. “People won’t pay as much for a photograph as they will for a painting, but if you number your prints, they will have more value. You should get $50 for a print, which means that if you sell all 100 copies of it, you earn $5000. That makes it worth the time and skills you have invested in taking the picture.”

“$5000 for a single print?”

“Well, that is a maximum. Every time you create a new print, and sell a few copies, the money will start coming in. If you have 100 prints for sale, and sell one of each every month, then you will be earning $5000 a month, which is decent money.”

“Decent? It is outrageous. Who earns that much money?”

“In the cities, a lot of people. Some earn far, far more. Living is cheaper up here, and we don’t feel entitled to vacations in Cuba every year, or new cars and homes. But I really hope to see more and more of the craftspeople earning money.”

“My neighbors will be jealous of me,” April noted.

“Perhaps, but it can be a good jealousy if you don’t waste your money foolishly. Spend it locally, and people will be proud of you. Give free prints to your friends. Hire a local woman to cook or clean for you, and pay her well. Spreading your financial wealth will grow your wealth in friendships.”

April hugged River. “How did you get so smart?”

“I’m just a kid,” River protested. “The river is just using me to improve the people. I wonder if my ideas aren’t mostly from it.”

“So how do I start?” April asked.

“Well, we have Colin building a web site right now. I’ll make sure that he builds a section for your pictures. I think it would be a good idea if we offer them for free as screen backgrounds, which Colin says are really popular.”

“So my pictures go from $50 each to free, just like that? Can’t we sell them as backgrounds?”

“Apparently not. People don’t want to pay for things like that online. But think about it. The kid who has grown up with your picture on his screen gets out of college, gets a job, and starts making money. Pretty soon he has a house or apartment to decorate, and he remembers those cool pictures from his old computer. So he buys one, or several, signed prints from you. In the end, your generosity earns you money,” River said.

“That sounds cool,” April said. “Let me know when you want prints, and how.”

“You will want to talk to Colin about that,” River said. “But there is something you could do for me first. I need pictures of the things that will be for sale on the site. Things like Ben Stormcloud’s canoes and snowshoes, Kyle and George’s swings, and that big metal thing they made out of auto parts, Anna’s makizin’s and more, as I talk to more people. Could you do that?”

“Sure,” April said cheerily. “It fits in with the stuff the river wants me to do as Chronicler anyway. I’d be glad to help.”

Liesl and River travelled to several more families before the end of the day. At first none of the people thought they had any talents or skills, but River prodded and poked, and always found something that the person loved to do, and was really good at. Some were excellent cooks, and River wondered if there was some way to set up an online food service. A few others were seamstresses, and while none had the design skills of Anna, they were good enough that they could make makizins if the workload get high enough that Anna couldn’t meet the demand. Everyone seemed good at everything.

The men had skills too, and while they often were out during the day, their women explained the skills they had. One made fish lures, and River got a chance to test it. The woman showing it, Mae Audette, put it on a rod, and River waded into the river with the rod. She was there for less than a minute when a trout was hooked on the lure. She then unhooked the fish, and let it free back into the water, where the river cured its mouth injury.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Mae said. “That would be a good dinner for my family.”

River sent out a message to the other trout in the river to leave the lure alone, but within another minute there was another fish hooked. Apparently they found the lure irresistible. This time she unhooked the fish, and gave it to the woman. It was a few pounds bigger than the other, and she smiled at the free supper. River climbed out of the river and joined Kemosabe and Liesl with Mae.

Other houses had men who carved there, and their wives were happy to show off their mates’ work. One carved wooden duck decoys so realistic that River had to touch them to be sure that they were not alive or stuffed animals. A couple of others carved bird and animal calls. The wife of one played some of the calls, and was quite good at it. Her calls sounded exactly like the ducks or other birds that they were meant to portray. The other man specialized in animal calls, and could do moose, bear, or deer calls.

Another man carved dolls, and his wife made traditional clothing for them to wear, using remnants of the other clothes she made. Liesl instantly reverted to a little girl, falling in love with one baby that was painted so realistically it looked like the one in the picture of River at the ceremony. The woman gifted the girl with the doll, and River again was amazed at the generosity of the people.

They only had to wait a few minutes for Wayne to pick them up after 5, and as they waited, Liesl decided that she would join River again at any time, due to the loot she had gathered. She had received a picture of a beaver, makizins, the promise of a swing, and the baby doll. River had Wayne drive back to April’s house, where they had left their paintings. April had framed both of them, with River’s picture in a gorgeous frame that she figured would have to sell for another $200, while Liesl’s was in a simpler frame. Wayne admired Liesl’s picture of the beaver for a second or two, but stared long and hard at the picture of River and the baby. He finally noticed the artist’s signature at the bottom.

“It says 1 of 100,” he asked April. “Does that mean you can make more? Because I would like to buy number 2, in a nice frame like that one. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” April said, “I’d give it to you free, but River says I have to stop giving stuff away. I know you are going back to college. How about you pay me $100 for it -- once you finish college and start making some money. Is that fair?”

“More than fair,” Wayne said with a smile. He looked over at River, who was red-faced at the idea that Wayne wanted a picture of her to take to college with him. She was quiet on the ride back into town.

When she was dropped off at her parents’ campsite she showed the photograph to her mother. “I wanted something to give you to take back to Toronto next week,” she explained. “I’m going to miss you, and I suspect you will miss me. I haven’t looked like this very long, so …”

“It is beautiful honey,” Alison said, beaming with joy. “You look just like a little mother in that, with the tiny baby. She looks like she is in love with you.”

“She probably just had gas,” Mark teased.

“Listen, little brother,” River said with a smile. “On Sunday you will be going back to Toronto. And I will be staying up here with Dad. And I’m going to miss you.” With that she hugged her brother, who wasn’t all that much smaller than her anymore. He wriggled a bit, but clearly was glad he was getting attention from his pretty older sister. River looked over at Paul, Mark’s best friend, who was giggling at Mark’s discomfort. “Do you want a hug too?” she said with a smile. Paul darted away, and Mark took the chance to break loose from River and darted after him.

“Supper in an hour boys,” Alison called after the fleeing boys. “Don’t be late.”

“… or I will hug you to death,” River called after them, causing them to pause and make fake vomiting noises before running again.

Chapter 14

So far: River has had a busy day exploring the reserve with Liesl, meeting more crafts people and developing her economic plan for the reserve.

At about the time that Anna was showing River her makizins, Nicholas Theodore Summer, Esq., was driving north from Toronto in his BMW, with his mind in a complete muddle.

It had been such a great start to the day. At 10 a.m., he had appeared at the sentencing hearing for Quentin Steele III. The teenager had been convicted of ‘dangerous driving causing death’ for speeding in his Corvette two years earlier, and faced up to 14 years in prison. Instead Nick had managed to win a sentence of 10 years’ probation, a hefty fine, and three years’ driving suspension.

Things soured at the end of the trial when Quentin strode away without even saying thanks, or shaking his lawyer’s hand. It was as if Nick were no more than another servant in the millionaire’s son’s life, no more important than the Filipino maid who picked up the dirty underwear from his bedroom floor. Nick was ticked off. He had worked hard to keep the boy out of jail. After all, his reckless driving, speeding on a city street, had killed a mother and two children who were legally driving through the green light when Quentin ignored the red. The husband’s tearful victim’s statement had clearly swayed the judge, but Nick had gradually rebuilt his case after that: claiming remorse by the boy, a desire to reform, and the fear that spending time in the federal penitentiary would turn a young man into a hardened criminal.

Quentin the Second did shake Nick’s hand. He had been adamant that the boy not serve jail time. The Steele family was too important in Toronto to be stained in such a way. The original Quentin had started as an immigrant from England, buying houses and renovating and reselling until he had amassed a huge construction enterprise. The Second was less industrious, but no less successful, managing to grow the company into one of Ontario’s largest real estate firms, although there were rumours that he was less than honest with the companies that worked for him. Numerous lawsuits had kept the law firm Nick worked for as a junior associate busy. Now the Third was in college, drifting through a business administration program, but spending too much time drag racing with his buddies. He had managed to keep off the roads during the two years that the case had wound through the legal system however, heeding Nick’s warnings that another ticket during the trial period would mean certain jail time.

Nick phoned in the verdict to his boss, one of the partners at the firm, who told him to take the rest of the day off. Thus Nick drove home at 1 p.m., rather than his normal 7:30 p.m., only to find his long-time girlfriend in his bed with another man. That caused Nick to lose it. In shock, he got back in his car, and started to drive. He turned off his phone after the third text from Gloria, claiming that he had misunderstood what he had seen. He was a lawyer, dammit. When you see your sweaty girlfriend in your bed, with a naked young man beside with a huge penis dripping fluids, that is sufficient circumstantial evidence to know exactly what happened. The bastard wasn’t even wearing a condom!

Nick was two hours north of the city when he pulled off the expressway, realizing that he shouldn’t be driving at 85 miles per hour when in the mental condition he was in. The secondary roads were slower, and he managed to travel at 55 most of the time. Soon he found himself travelling through a First Nations reserve on the northern shore of Georgian Bay. That brought back memories.

Nick’s real name was Nicholas Tecumseh Summerstorm. He had Anglicized it in his second year of pre-law. He had left his reservation on the shore of Lake Superior after high school to go to college in Kingston, and had only gone back once. He had been a bit homesick that first Christmas, but found it like going back to a third world country, with the snow-covered shacks and the primitive transportation in beat-up pickup trucks. He returned to Queen’s University in January and had never gone home again. That summer he took a bus into Toronto and camped out in front of the law firm he currently worked at. It was the third largest in the city, and only hired the best, but Nick used chutzpah and his eloquence to convince one of the partners to hire him as a lowly clerk. Later he would article with the firm and then take a junior position as an attorney once he passed the bar.

And now he was questioning his lifelong desire to be a lawyer. He had left the reserve hoping to help people. He wanted to help the innocent to get justice from a convoluted legal system. Instead he found himself defending criminals, and helping them escape justice. Why? Chasing the almighty dollar. Gloria was part of the reason. She wanted more: always more. Trips to France, and the islands, several times a year. A big house that he really didn’t need, and then a maid to keep it tidy. Gloria was still in university, taking as few courses as possible to keep her standing, and to keep from having to get a job. She was happy so long as she had a rich lawyer boyfriend to pay her way. She wore an engagement ring on her finger that had cost $65,000. Three months’ salary was the standard, she had said.

Nick had driven a long way, and just past the reserve he pulled over on a laneway into a field for a call of nature. As he was zipping himself up, he heard a sob in the distance. Pondering what to do, he heard another sob, and decided to work towards the sound. He had to fight through some brambles and underbrush, and then came across an old railway track. That made the going easier as he walked along the ties towards the sound, directly ahead. Soon he could see a girl sitting forlornly on the tracks, with a pile of rope next to her.

He was quite close before she heard him. She jumped up, startled. Then Nick realized that this was not a girl, but a young First Nations boy in his early teens. He was tall, and rather husky, and the dress must have been his mother’s. It fit him poorly, and was soaking wet. This was the traditional man-in-a-dress that many trans-people feared becoming. But Nick was sharp, and had dealt with trans-people before.

“Are you okay Miss?” he asked, knowing to use the address that the person identified with. The moment she heard the word ‘Miss’, she smiled a little, and Nick knew he was halfway to befriending her, without even knowing why he wanted to.

“No,” she whined. “I can’t do anything right. Even kill myself.”

“That is a bit drastic,” Nick said calmly. “What is your name?”

“Carl … a,” she said.

“Well Carla,” Nick said. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

The girl sobbed out her story. She was from a troubled family on the reserve. Her mother was accepting of two-spirited people, but her father had worked years in construction and had more of the white man’s beliefs on that. He beat her, and would beat her mother if she tried to defend her. Her mother became infertile after Carla was born, and her father considered ‘Carl’ to be a possession: it was his right to have a son. And over the last year, puberty had struck and Carl put on 50 pounds of muscle, grew four inches, and started to bulk up as her voice deepened. So she had grabbed a rope and came to the small trestle over the river and tried to kill herself.

First, she had tied the rope around her neck, and then the trestle and jumped. But the rope came loose around her neck and she merely splashed into the knee deep water. She got up again, and tied the rope better. But this time the rope came loose at the top, and she merely bathed again. The third time she tied the rope so it held at both ends, but for some reason it was now too long. Instead of snapping her neck, she felt her feet drop into what seemed like mud, arresting her fall. Then the rope snapped in the middle, and she dropped another four feet into the river. She crawled back up to the trestle, and lay on the tracks.

“So now I am just waiting for a train to come. It will be quick,” she said.

“Not so quick,” Nick suggested.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Look at the tracks,” he said. “There is rust on the rails. That means that there have been no trains for months, maybe years. I think you will have a long wait for a train here.”

“Damn,” Carla swore.

“Come on,” Nick said. “My car isn’t far. I’ll take you home.” Carla had started to move, but froze on the word ‘home.’

“H-h-home,” she stuttered. “Please don’t take me there. Take me with you. I-I’ll do … anything you want.”

“Hush,” Nick said calmly. “I won’t take you home then. And don’t worry. I don’t want what you are so reluctantly offering. You’ll come as my little sister. Okay?”

Carla smiled widely. “Okay.”

“I will insist that you write a letter to your mom, though,” Nick said as they walked back to the car. “You don’t have to tell her where you are, only that you are safe.”

“Dad will find out,” Carla whined. “He will come and take me away.”

“No he won’t,” Nick said. “I’m a lawyer. I know how to send a letter that can’t be traced.”

“You’re a lawyer?” Carla was amazed. “I thought you were First Nations like me.”

“Can’t a guy be both?” Nick said. “I am Ojibwe, although until recently I was kinda hiding it under my lawyer skin.”

“Ojibwe? That’s what I am. How did you get to be a lawyer?”

“A lot of hard work, and some luck. If you work hard enough, you can be anything you want.”

“I want to be a mother,” Carla said weakly.

That stopped the normally glib Nick for a second. “Well, I don’t know if that will be possible, but there are other things nearly as good. You could be a nursery or kindergarten teacher. People are more and more accepting of transgendered people these days.”

“What is transgendered?”

Nick was amazed that someone with gender identification issues in 2017 would not know of the term. “It is what you are, or seem to be: a person with the outward body of one gender, and who internally identifies with the other. I don’t know for sure that fits you: normally you go to a specialist doctor who makes the identification.”

“That is me, all the way,” Carla said. “Does that mean there are other people like me?”

“Yes, lots of them. Some who are quite beautiful, and others who are … well, less attractive.”

“I’m not pretty, am I,” Carla said sadly.

“Pretty is a state of mind,” Nick said diplomatically. “Besides, you haven’t taken any treatments yet. If you go on female hormones you can get prettier, with female breasts and hips, and your voice won’t get any deeper.”

“If I did that,” Carla said shyly. “Would you date me? Would I be pretty enough for you?”

“None of that talk,” Nick said firmly. “You are my little sister. Don’t talk about dating your big brother. But I am sure there will be someone out there that will date you. A man or a woman.”

“Another woman? But that is gay,” Carla said, parroting what her father often said.

“And there is nothing wrong with that,” Nick said. “Carla, you are still young, fourteen or fifteen? You have a lot of time to decide what kinds of people you will date.”

“I’m fourteen,” she said, smiling. “You called me Carla. I like that.”

The two reached the car, and Carla was impressed by the plush interior with leather seats, and didn’t want to sit on them with her wet dress. Nick got a blanket out of the trunk, and spread it over the passenger seat, then got into the driver seat.

“Oh, your suit is ruined,” Carla noted while the interior light was still on. It was true, brambles and branches had scratched into the $3500 designer suit, shredding the fine finish. It would never again see the inside of a courtroom. For a second Nick thought about having six others just as nice, but then remembered they were in his bedroom closet, and he really didn’t want to go back there.

“Don’t worry,” Nick said. “Where I’m going, I don’t need a fancy suit.” He started the car, and pulled back onto the road.

“Where are we going? Not back to my parents, please!”

“No. I’m going north. I didn’t know where I was going until now, but meeting you has helped me clear my mind. I am going back to the reserve I came from. We are not going to see your parents, but mine. I have a lot of apologizing to do. And I guess if you are my little sister, then they will be your new parents.”

“Will they … like me?” Carla asked timidly, looking down at her mannish body in the ill-fitting dress. “I mean …”

“I’m sure they will,” Nick said. “Mom had a brother who was two-spirited. Uncle John moved to Thunder Bay with a boyfriend, but they still come back every summer, or at least they did when I was younger. Mom and Dad treated both John and Antoine well. I’m sure that they will accept you for the person you are, not what you look like. In fact, most people on the reserve will. Some of the people from the town might say something, but you should just let that pass. There are jerks everywhere. There are just fewer of them in the north.”

They drove on for several hours, getting back on the main road. Carla’s adventures stressed her out enough that she fell asleep soon after they got on the highway. Nick stopped for gas, and she was still conked out. He finally prodded her awake as they were getting near Sault Ste. Marie.

“Wake up, little one,” Nick said softly. “We are coming up to the edge of Sault, and that will be the last chance to get a drive through. I don’t think you want to go into a sit down restaurant, do you?”

“No,” Carla said, looking at her dress, now dry. She wrapped the blanket around her until only her face showed. “Can we do McDonald’s? I love McDonald’s, but we only get to eat there if we go to Espinola or Sudbury. Maybe once a year.”

“We passed Espinola an hour ago, when we got back on the Trans-Canada Highway,” Nick said. “You were pretty conked out, so I let you sleep. But I’m pretty sure that this will be the last one before Thunder Bay.”

“Wow,” Carla said. “This is the farthest I’ve ever been away from the reserve at Whitefish River. It is kinda exciting. Especially with my new big brother here to look after me.”

“Well, every big brother should take his little sister to McDonald’s at least once in her life,” Nick said with a grin. He was starting to like Carla. “What do you want?”

While they were sitting in the parking lot eating, Nick checked his phone. As expected there were dozens of messages and texts from Gloria, slowly transitioning from ‘I’m sorry, please come home’ to a particularly racist one at the end, telling him that he was a ‘small-dicked Indian,’ and that she was better off without him.

Finally there was an urgent message from Walter McCormack, his boss. He phoned back.

“Where the hell are you,” Walter shouted as he picked up the phone. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you all afternoon.”

“You told me to take the afternoon off,” Nick answered calmly. He knew that Walter could be hot-headed at times.

“Yeah, but not drop off the end of the world. We have a crisis here.”

It was always a crisis for Walter, Nick thought. “What is the problem?”

“It’s that little punk you got off this morning. He left the court and went straight home, stole his Dad’s favorite sports car – a 1964 Jaguar E-type – and managed to wrap it around a streetlight at 120 mph.”

“Shit. How many did he kill this time?”

“Only himself. That’s why I’m calling. His funeral is on Friday and I want you down there to show the flag.”

“I’m not going to that little wanker’s funeral,” Nick insisted.

“It’s not a request, Nick,” Walter said. “This is not optional. His dad is one of our largest accounts, and you WILL be there.”

“Sorry, Walter,” Nick said. “I’ve got months of vacation time owed, and there was a personal crisis at home, so I’m taking a couple weeks off. And none of it will be spent in a Toronto funeral home.”

“If you aren’t there on Friday, you can make it a permanent vacation,” Walter said, getting loud again. “What is the crisis? Did you find out about Gloria and her boy toys?”

“What?” Now it was Nick who was shouting. “Did you know about that?”

“Yeah, I guess the whole office did. It is a pretty common thing in our business. My wife is always running around on me. It’s something you learn to live with. You should pick up a doxie or two of your own.”

“Christ! Everybody knew, and no one said anything? You are all a bunch of assholes.”

“Remember who you are talking to,” Walter warned. “So I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Like hell you will,” Nick swore. “And I know exactly who I am talking to. My ex-boss.” Nick disconnected the call, sad that you can’t slam a receiver down on a cell phone. For several minutes he was clearly steamed up, and didn’t speak or look at Carla.

“Pretty bad, eh?” she finally said.

“Not really,” Nick finally said. Just having Carla around seemed to calm him down. “Since this morning I’ve been giving my entire life a lot of thought. I didn’t become a lawyer because of the money, and lately that’s all it is about. I mean I’m wearing a $3500 suit. Where I come from, that is ridiculous when a $70 pair of jeans and a $50 shirt would do the same job.”

“Or a $15 pair of jeans from a thrift store, and a $5 shirt. Did you really spend $3500 on that suit? And you said you have more?”

“Well I did have more, unless that little gold digger takes them and sells them,” Nick said with a chuckle. “But I don’t care. I’m heading back home, and if there is no lawyer work up there then I will just collect welfare like the rest of them.”

He explained about the trial first, and how badly the husband of the woman Quentin had killed at reacted when the sentence was read. It was like the man had been punched in the stomach. You could see all his confidence in the judicial system dissolve, as the boy who had killed his wife and kids was let go, essentially scot free. Nick said he hoped that the man would see the boy’s subsequent death as a greater power overriding the judge, and dispensing justice.

The Nick told his story about Gloria: how they met, the several years of good times, and then the increasing greed she showed. Finally there was the way he had last seen her, naked and swimming around in his satin sheets as she tried to come up with a reason why there was a nude man standing beside his bed, reeking of post-sex smells.

“Whatcha going to do about her?” Carla said.

“When we get north I’ll get my attorney down there to evict her, and sell the damned house. Hopefully he will get there before she guts the place, but it doesn’t matter. Toronto real estate is booming, and it is a really nice home on a ravine lot. I should be able to sell it for $5 million. I bought it for $3 million five years ago, and still owe about 2.5 on it. But the other 2.5 will buy me a lot of land and house up on the Shield. I think this car will have to go too. It is perfect for Toronto, but way too much for the reserve. Everybody up there drives an old pickup. They’ll bitch if I get something that is less than five years old.”

It was well after midnight when they pulled into the reserve. Nick drove into the park, which was closed, but in the lax security of the people, he merely had to drive around the unmanned barrier. He drove to the campsites near the river.

“We can sleep here in the car tonight,” he told Carla. “There isn’t a lot of room in the back, but you’ll be able to curl up, and I can sleep here in the front. I don’t want to wake my folks until morning. But first I have to go out to the river. Do you want to stay here and get comfy?”

“Can I come with you?” Carla asked shyly. She was a bit afraid to leave the man she now saw as the anchor in her life.

“Sure. Just let me head over to those bushes for a second. That Coke from McDonald’s is looking to get out.”

Carla giggled, then said: “Mine is too. I’ll use the ladies’ bushes over there.”

Nick did his business, and Carla did hers as well, since a special girl like her really didn’t have the same needs as a born woman. Then they headed down the road into the pitch-black. There was no moon, and they shouldn’t have been able to see a thing, but it seemed that there was a dull grey perhaps five feet in front of them, allowing them to see enough of the road to make good time at a normal walking speed.

They got to the river and Carla gasped. There were fireflies flitting up and down the river making a beautiful scene, as though the stars had fallen to the level of the river, and now were dancing upon it. Even Nick was moved. He had never seen the river this way in his youth.

Carla was first to see the young girl out in the middle of the river, as she rose from a crouch to stand waist deep. Nick then noticed her, and wondered how she could stand the cold. Had global warming heated the water of the river beyond the freezing cold it had always been during his youth?

The girl in the water raised her hands, and called out. “Come in. I sense you are both of the people, and the river welcomes you.”

River

By Dawn Natelle

Chapter 15

So far: Two new characters are introduced and their backgrounds explored, along with their odyssey to the river. Now they have met River and are invited into the water.

River welcomed the new people into the river. Nick was hesitant, knowing how cold the water could be, but Carla immediately smiled at River’s soft voice, and entered the water. Nick followed, and they waded out to the deeper part of the river. Nick was astounded how warm the water was, especially around River.

The instant the two were in the water, the river fed their stories to River, and she immediately knew how to deal with each of them. First was the traditional song of the history of the people, and as she sang that, the river taught them the language. As in the past, at first the river merely translated what River was singing, but gradually that expanded into a full understanding of the language. By the end of the song all three were talking only in Ojibwe.

“That is so cool,” Carla said. “I never knew so much about our people. It makes me proud to be Ojibwe.”

“It was meant to,” River said. “Too many of our people feel the negative auras thrust on them by others. Instead we need to feel the positive auras of Manitou, the animals, and the plants -- the whole earth that we are a part of. When we do that we don’t do terrible things like suicides.”

“I … I was …” Carla choked up trying to tell River that she had been trying to do just such a thing yesterday. River stepped forward and embraced the girl, who immediately calmed in the rivertalker’s grasp.

“I know dear,” she said. “You don’t have to speak of that ever again. It is over. The bad times are over. You are now one of the people of the river, and it will sustain you and nurture you. You, in particular, will be spending a lot of time in the river over the next few years. Usually with me, but occasionally alone. You have special needs that the river will help you with.”

She turned to Nick, while still holding Carla. “You are a good man for taking in this poor girl, and treating her as she needed to be treated, and becoming a brother to her. All the people are brother and sisters, but your relationship will be more. Your parents will accept her as she is, and as she is going to be. She will join your family, and leave the hatred of her first father behind. The river knows that you are a good man, and will reward you in some way.

The three spent hours in the river, until the early light of pre-dawn started to appear. Carla was surprised that River was the same age as her, and they would be attending high school together. Nick was surprised to learn that River had begged for a lawyer for the community yesterday. He realized that it was at about the same time that he had gotten into his car to drive away from Gloria. Was there a connection there? His legal mind discounted the thought that river magic might have been involved, but River was less sure.

River mentioned some of the legal issues that were happening. The houses her father was building were going to need a lawyer to handle the sales; she wanted advice in getting Makizins trademarked; as well as the myriad of issues involved in setting up businesses both on the ground and online. She asked him to accompany her to town later, to visit some of the businesses.

Eventually they got out of the river, and Nick was amazed to find that he towered over the others. He had never stood beside River, but he was now much taller than he had been, compared to Carla. At first he thought it was just she who had changed. She was much shorter, and thinner, and the frumpy dress she had stolen from her mother had changed into a traditional First Nations costume, similar to River’s. He was amazed. She no longer looked like a 14-year-old boy in a dress, but like an 11-year-old girl. Her hair was three or so inches longer, and in a cute feminine style. Her thinner, smaller face had wide expressive eyes and a tiny nose. Her torso was no longer thick and muscular, but thin and dainty, with just nubs of breasts showing through her thin cotton blouse. Her waist was thin, and while she didn’t have much hip, there was just the start of development there. She was also several inches shorter than she had been.

“You are so tall now,” she said to Nick, and then paused as she heard her high-pitched feminine voice. It was higher than it had ever been, even as a young boy. Certainly much higher than the male voice puberty had cursed her with over the past year.

“I am taller,” Nick said. “But you, little sister, are beautiful.”

“I am?” Carla wondered.

“Yes,” River said. “Our river is known for giving gifts to the people who deserve them. In your cases, it took some of Carla’s maleness, and gave it to Nick. Your height, your build, and something special. Even your suit is mended, and resized to fit your new body.”

“Am I a girl?” Carla squealed, touching her fledgling breasts. Her hand then slipped down the waist of her skirt. “No, still a boy,” she said sadly. “But it is much smaller than it was. Like when I was a little boy.” She turned to River. “Why didn’t it make me a girl?”

“The river hesitates in giving too much of a gift,” she said. “In your case, you are still young. You now look like a girl, and can easily hide that bit that isn’t. What’s more, the river will give you more in time. A lot soon, in fact. Right now you look like an 11 or 12-year-old. Later this week we will come back to the river, and it will help you move along, once you are comfortable with your new body. It will make you a bit bigger and increase your breasts a bit. You will probably look 13. Then, just before school, you will get another treatment, and look 14 like the rest of us.”

“I want to be a girl now, though,” she whined.

“You are not ready,” River explained. “The biggest part of the gift of the river is that you will no longer be going through male puberty. Instead, you will go into the river at least once a month, and you will go through female puberty. Eventually when the river deems you ready, it will make the final changes. Or not. You might decide later that being a boy was better, and the river will take you back down that route. It will be your choice, and the river’s decision.”

“I’m not going to want to be an icky boy,” Carla protested.

“Then wait. You will grow up into a girl. We both will,” River said.

“Hah, you don’t know what it was like to be a boy,” Carla said.

“Actually I do,” River explained. “Two weeks ago I was a boy, and happy as one. But the river had need of me, and changed me. Not all at once, but a little bit each day until I looked like this. Now I am happy as a girl.”

Carla’s eyes went wide. Just then Nick came back from a short walk. He was nearly 6 foot [feet?] tall now, and considerably huskier than he had been. His build now was much like Wayne’s. His face was a bit red, and River decided that she knew why.

“You have discovered the other change,” she asked shyly. Nick just nodded.

“It is a huge difference going from one inch smaller than normal to one inch bigger than normal,” she said, getting a bit red herself talking about Nick’s new endowment. “There is one warning the river wants me to give you. You are not to go into ‘super stud’ mode with it. It is meant for one special mate, not just for your own pleasure. There are a lot of single girls on the reserve, and you can date as many as you need to in order to find what you need. You are now tall, handsome, muscular, well endowed, and a lawyer to boot. You will have no trouble finding a girl. Just don’t let any of them throw themselves at you. If you have sex with any of them, she will be your mate for life. The river will ensure it.”

Nick nodded. “I messed up once. I thank the river for what it has given me, and for this constraint that will make me make use it well.”

After this somewhat uncomfortable discussion, the three all walked towards Nick’s car. He drove it towards his parents’ home, located near the Stormcloud home. As they neared the house, a small, neat bungalow that was much nicer looking than many of the other reserve homes, River thought she saw a curtain at one of the windows move. Someone was awake, even at this early hour. A moment later the door to the house opened and a stout woman stepped out.

It took several minutes after Nick and the two girls got out of the car before recognition enveloped her face. “Nicky? Nicky! It’s my little Nicky,” she cried as she ran up to him, enveloping him in her mass.

“I’m home Momma,” he said, hugging her back just as fiercely as she was hugging him. A short, muscular man came to the door next. River thought she recognized him from the various ceremonies of the past few weeks, but the next face she saw was one she knew. It was Ria, Rod’s girlfriend.

“River,” she exclaimed, coming and hugging the girl. “How did you wind up with this miscreant?”

“Ria,” Nick said. “You are all grown up. I think you were about 10 the last time I saw you.”

“You are bigger too,” Nick’s dad said. River could see the resemblance between the two men, although Carter Summerstorm was several inches shorter than Nick, closer to the size he had been before entering the river.

Leeann, his wife, started to urge everyone inside when Nick realized that Carla had not been identified, and looked a bit like a rabbit, ready to bolt at any second. “This is Carla, my new sister,” Nick announced.

“I have a sister?” squealed Ria, and she broke free from River to embrace the younger girl.

“Welcome to our family,” Carter said. “I hope this means that we will see more of young Nick now.”

“Yes, Papa, I am planning to stay in the area. River says there will be a bit of law work in town as things go along, and as soon as I can get my house in Toronto sold, I will start looking for a place around here.”

“You will not,” Leeann said. “You will stay in your own room, at least until you find a wife up here. And sweetheart, we will build a room for you too. Such a pretty young thing.”

“She can stay in my room, Momma,” Ria said. “I will be travelling a lot with Rod over the next few months, and when I’m home we can share. It is what sisters do. Is that all right with you, Carla?”

Carla nodded shyly. She was amazed at the reaction of this family to her, and to Nick, coming home after nearly 10 years away. They had given her more love and attention in five minutes than she had felt from her original family in five years. They went in and joined the family for breakfast, with Nick, River and Carla eating sparsely, since they had been nourished by the river.

Later Nick had to take Carter out to see the BMW, and let his father take it for a short spin around the reserve. Nick noted that he planned to sell the car and get something more sensible, and Carter agreed that this would be a good idea. It would be hard to think of Nick as a local boy if he was driving around that car, and wearing suits that cost more than the average car on the reserve.

While they were out, and re-bonding as father and son, Nick realized that everything that he had been missing from his life was here on the reserve. He could hear the birds singing, and watched as chipmunks played on the side of the road. This definitely was not Toronto. He had lived that life, the life he thought he wanted, and found that what he had left behind was far, far more important. And the missions that River had explained to him earlier were so much more important than getting young hoodlums out of jail. She had a plan for the people: to make them self-sufficient, healthy, sober, and to end the cycle of despair that caused so much suicide amongst the youth of the people. How could he not want to be a part of that?

The women inside had been busy too. Leeann had found some of Ria’s old clothes, and Carla had been thrilled as could be to perform a modelling show, trying things on. At first there had been a slight embarrassment about the slight nubbin that appeared in the girl’s panties, but River explained that situation, and both Leeann and Ria had embraced that girl, and told her it made no difference to them. Again Carla was amazed at the acceptance she felt in this new house, which was feeling more and more like her home every minute.

“We will get you more things in town today,” Leeann offered.

“Not too much,” River warned. “Carla will go into the river again later this week, and she will definitely grow. Don’t buy a lot of clothes that she will only be able to wear for a few days.”

Leeann pouted: “You give me a new daughter, and then you tell me I can’t spoil her. How unfair.”

“You can spoil her next week,” River laughed. “Although I did see some things in Ria’s old things that will probably fit her next week, they are kind of out of style, and you can buy her some new things for school. She will be starting high school with me in September.”

“High school,” Ria exclaimed. “How can that be? She is so tiny. Surely she will take the bus to the elementary school in Terrace Bay.”

“The river made her younger to start,” River said. “She was much bigger before, and not as pretty as she is now. But by September, she will look ready for high school, although I think she may still be on the small size.”

“That’s okay,” Leeann said. “All our family is small. Except Nick. Something in Toronto must have made him grow, because he was shorter and thinner the last time he was home.”

“No, actually it was the river that did that,” River said. “It took some of what Carla didn’t need, and gave it to Nick.”

It was just after 9 a.m. when the family piled into the car. Carter was not interested in shopping, so while Nick and River sat in the front seats, Ria, Carla, and Leeann climbed in the back of the classy automobile. Nick parked outside of the general store, and then he and River walked down the street.

Nelson Churchill was just opening his store, adding the float to his till, when the well-dressed couple walked in. He immediately recognized River as the young girl that was responsible for the sales in his store being down so much. Half of his First Nations customers had completely stopped coming in, and the others they were buying much less. A six pack instead of two cases of 24, or a small bottle of liquor instead of several large 40-ouncers. And she seemed to have brought a lawyer with him. The expensive suit just screamed ‘lawyer’, Nelson thought.

“What can I do for you?” he asked politely. After all, there was a chance that they were planning a party or something.

“I hope we can do something for each other,” River said sweetly. “I understand that you have quite a bit of spare space in the other half of your building. I might be interested in it for a little store we are thinking about, to sell First Nations arts and crafts.”

“Yeah, I have space,” Nelson said, quickly calculating. If they were paying enough in rent, that might make up for the loss in profits from the liquor agency. “I can’t just give it away, though. You can pay?”

“Yes, I’m quite certain we can pay,” River promised. “Can we look the space over?”

Nelson got out a key, and then went over to the door in the temporary dividing wall he had built years before after he had bought the building from Northern Stores. His plan at the time was to rent out the other 4/5 of the building to tenants, but in nearly 20 years there was not one enquiry before now.

“I’m sorry I can’t turn on the lights,” Nelson said. “I disconnected them a few years back to cut down the property tax bill, since unused space is charged a lower rate. We can get them turned back on if we can make a deal.”

“No problem,” River said. “There is enough light coming in from the plate glass windows, although it would be more if the windows were cleaner.” She looked around, and saw there was a space of about 250 feet by 100 feet, with Nelson’s agency taking about 50 x 50 off of the one end. He had the other 50 feet behind his store for storage. There was a 25x100 foot storage area at the back of the store, with a loading ramp and a bit of parking. There was a large commercial door in the middle of the windows, and you could almost see where the old store shelving units had been. Sadly those were gone.

“Is the parking lot next door yours?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, not that it gets much use, being at the other end from my place,” Nelson said. “Most everybody just parks on the street. I park behind my storeroom.”

“It looks perfect,” River said. “How much do you need for it?”

Nelson hesitated. Best to start high and work down. “$5000 a month, plus you pay utilities.”

“I only saw one meter in the back,” Nick said. “You will pay your own utilities?”

“No can do,” Nick said. “Unless you want to bring in another utility account. Most of the power will be from this side, and even more for the heat and air.”

Nick had thrown utilities into the discussion as an old lawyer trick, to give himself time to think about the price. He had been expecting that Nelson might ask for $10000 a month. In Toronto a space this size would be five times that much. But this wasn’t Toronto.

While the men dickered over the price, River wandered throughout the building, mentally placing various crafts and artwork in various sections. She was pleased with the space. It was perhaps double what she needed, but that left lots of room for expansion and growth. She finally headed back to the men, who had worked out a price.

Nelson was a bit flummoxed. This man had the gift of gab, and had somehow worked out the lowest price that Nelson could live with, $1000 a month, and then wheedled him down to that amount, with Nelson paying the cost of separate utilities.

River listened as Nick explained the deal. She shook her head no. “$1400 a month, and we pay for all the utilities,” she said, to Nick’s surprise. “It is just a waste of money to have separate utilities put in, and that will cost Mr. Churchill his first month’s rent, or maybe two.”

“Deal,” Nelson said quickly, and rushed forward to pump River’s hand. With the savings in the utilities, he would gain $1600 a month, $400 a week. Just enough to offset the loss of sales from the liquor, if it doesn’t bounce back when the natives decide they can’t live without their drink.

“We will pay the first two months as a deposit,” River added. “Then there will be no further payments until we open the doors, two or three months down the road, max.”

Nelson hesitated, and then agreed. But River had one more condition.

“I also want to talk to the former tenant. I understand your ex-wife was manager of the store here. Do you have contact information for her? She can give me invaluable tips about the things that sold well in her store, when sales worked best, that kind of thing.”

Nelson paused again. At least he was on good terms with his ex, although things had been quite rough in the first five years after they separated. But they never had actually divorced. Connie felt that leaving a divorce for later would prevent either of them from ever making a hasty mistake. Seven years ago Connie had started the process, but aborted it when she fell out with her new boyfriend. Nelson hadn’t really dated since Connie left. He was sure that she would only tell River good things about him and the store, especially since the store would not be competing directly with the Northern Store in Terrace Bay. And that was largely moot, since her company, Hudson’s Bay, no longer owned Northern Stores.

“Yes, I can give you her phone or email,” Nelson said.

“Both please,” River asked. The three all shook hands, and Nick and River left.

On the way back Nick was rather testy: “Why did you overpay? I had him down to $1000, with utilities out.”

“I’m so glad you were able to do that,” River said. “But he would have felt he had been fleeced if we got the rent for that. By offering a little more, we now have a partner, and not a competitor. He will be easier to get along with if we want to do special promotions and such. Did you see how he looked at me when we first got there?”

“Pure hatred,” Nick said with a laugh. “He didn’t look at me too friendly either.”

“I don’t like people not liking me,” River said.

“He did look a lot friendlier when we left,” Nick said.

“Just wait,” River warned. “After I am finished with him, he will think I am the greatest thing since sliced bread.”

The girls were done with their shopping, and even though she had only a few small bags, Carla was over the moon after her first time ‘shopping with the girls.’ Ria said they had her try on quite a few items that they didn’t buy, and tried to make a start on developing the new girl’s sense of style. Plans were made for a trip to the Sault one weekend in September for a more intensive girlification process.

Nick took the family back to the Summerstorm house. Ria promised to take Carla over to introduce her to Liesl at the nearby Stormcloud house. She would let Liesl know that River would not be needing her company today, and would let the girls play together. While Carla was actually 14, she looked 12 now, only slightly older than Liesl, and was much younger in terms of time she had spent as a girl. River felt confident that the two would bond.

River then imposed on Nick to be her taxi driver, and they headed back into town, parking in the hospital parking lot. Hospital Administrator, Desmond Kraud, happened to see the strange car pull into the lot, and like Nelson Churchill before him, he immediately decided Nick was a lawyer, or alternatively a civil servant from Toronto. And he had the Waters girl with him. Either way was trouble. The hospital could not afford a lawsuit. He tried to wrack his brain about the events the week before, to see if there was anything that they, or he, could be held liable for. Perhaps the doctor had gotten a bit wild, but he wasn’t even here today. And if the man was from the Ministry of Health, it would be even worse. This could be the start of the end for the hospital.

“River Waters and Nick Summerstorm to see you,” the receptionist buzzed him. After trying to consider whether hiding, fleeing, or jumping out of his second floor window would be useful, Desmond decided to man up and told the receptionist to send them up. He went to the door of his office. The hospital upper level was a warren of offices and storage rooms, and he wanted to see the two as they got off the elevator. He was a bit surprised when instead they entered from the stairs on the opposite side, but welcomed River and her guest into his office.

“Hello again, Desmond,” River started. “I want to introduce you to Nick Summerstorm. He is a lawyer, but he is not with me on any legal matter. Think of him as an advisor.”

Desmond visibly relaxed as he shook the hand of the larger man, clearly a native. “Nice to meet you, sir,” Desmond said, turning to River. “How can I help you, Miss Waters?”

“To start with, you can call me River,” she said with her disarming smile. “Is the doctor busy?”

“No. I’m sorry. Dr. Mitchell is in Sudbury today and tomorrow for some tests. Even doctors have to go to the doctor. We have a nurse practitioner looking after things today.”

“I hope it is nothing serious,” River said. “I wanted to apologize for the incident last week. Things got a bit out of hand, and some harsh words were spoken. I just wanted to let you two know that there are no hard feelings from our end, and that the people on the reserve are most supportive of the hospital. We will still want to explore our traditional healing methods, which of course do not always connect with your medical practices. All seven of your former patients are apparently doing quite well with their families, reconnecting and becoming useful elders in their household, if not the community in general.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Desmond said. “We miss having them here. Not only because they were nice people, overall, but because they kept our numbers up. Coupled with the unexplained shortage of calls at the emergency last week, compared to other weekends after a welfare check comes out, we are down heavily for this month.”

He then explained that the usage of the hospital was key to its remaining open. With another hospital just 30 miles down the road in Terrace Bay, the Ministry of Health was eager to consolidate services in only one location. Losing seven geriatric patients, and now a drop in emergency calls meant that the St. Mary’s hospital was in danger.

“Hmmm,” River pondered. “First, some bad news. I don’t think that the drop in emergency calls will be temporary. The people of the reserve have decided to curtail their liquor consumption. That might explain a lot fewer drinking brawls or domestic incidents bringing our people to emergency.”

“The good news is that I have some ideas that might help you out. As I said, the people really want to see the hospital survive. What if you were to hold special clinics every week or so. I’m thinking of a pre-natal program for expectant mothers; a diabetes and nutrition clinic, many of the people are overweight and could use a program to help them control their diet; maybe an open house here at the hospital to let people know what you offer. If you build programs like that, then I will let the people of the reserve know about them, and I’m sure you will get people to attend.”

“Those are great ideas,” Desmond said. “A bit of work to get everything ready but definitely a way to get our numbers up. There are several hundred families on the reserve, aren’t there. If we could get a couple hundred visits each month, that could make up for most of the lost numbers from the geriatric department.”

As Nick and River headed back to the car, Nick noted: “You have quite the way with you, River. That man was terrified of you when you came in, and when we left he was so pleased. Do you have the same effect on all the men in your life?”

“Uhh, no,” River said. She saw Wayne driving by in the JR truck, and he was staring at Nick and River getting into the BMW. “In fact I just saw someone who might be upset to see me getting into a car with a man.”

“Boyfriend?” Nick asked.

“No. This one fits into the ‘it’s complicated’ status,” River said. “I’ll have to talk to him. Anyway, I need to see one more person, if you still have the time.”

“Sure. I don’t know why, but I’m not the least bit tired and I’ve been up for over 30 hours straight.”

“Oh, that is the river. It nurtures you, and you don’t need to eat or sleep after you spend a few hours in the water. I’ve only been sleeping about three hours a night since all this started,” River said. “It gives me lots of time to spend with the river, to plan, and still have all the days open for other things.”

“Sounds like it would be a perfect tool for lawyers,” Nick said as he drove back out of town. “We never have enough hours in a day. So where do you want to go.”

“I need to see Colin Redhawk. Do you know where his house is?”

“Redhawk? Yes, I know the house, although I don’t know Colin. If he was young when I left …”

“Yeah, he is my age,” River said. “But he is building our website and stuff, and I want you to be aware of what he is doing so that you can check out the legalities of stuff.”

“No problem. We lawyers are really good with ‘stuff’.”

At the Redhawks’, River found Colin was pretty hyper when his mom let them into his room.

“River! Oh my god. You have to see this.” He typed on the keyboard and did some mouse things, and soon a picture of George and Kyle’s totem pole created out of car parts appeared, with George in the picture adjusting something.

“That’s a really good picture,” River said.

“April brought it to me yesterday,” Colin said. “I put it on Facebook, Pinterest, and e-Bay and a video clip of it on YouTube. It’s gone viral.” He pointed to a small number at the bottom of the screen that said 13,450,832 likes. “See?”

“Is that good?” River said.

“For less than a full day? It’s phenomenal. Look.” More keystrokes and a different page appeared, again with the same picture. As it came up, River heard Nick gasp.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

“Yep,” Colin smiled smugly. “When I posted to eBay last night there were dozens of bidders when the price was at a few hundred dollars. But now there are just five guys bidding. Look at where it is at.” He pointed.

“$103,500,” River read aloud. “Is that what they want to pay for it?”

“So far,” Colin said. “The bids keep going up. I set it to expire at midnight tomorrow. And I’m pretty sure these are legit bids. At least the four that have been in contact with me asking about the statue. There is a body shop in Sacramento, auto parts stores in Kansas and Vancouver, and a car dealership in Detroit. They all want it badly.”

“You have information on these places?” Nick asked. “We could accept the highest bidder, and then contact the others and offer to make more of the things. That could get us close to a half million dollars.”

“Wait a second,” River warned. “First, Kyle and George are artists, not a factory. It wouldn’t be fair for us to sell copies of their work, even if they did the work and got the money. For one thing, the buyer is bidding so much because it is unique as well as beautiful. It wouldn’t be fair to him, or her, if there were three or four more made.”

“Secondly, it took George and Kyle 600 hours to build that. Another one might take more time. If you wanted three more it would take more than a year, and that is without making all the other things they make. The best I can see is if they commit to making one a year. And not a totem again. I’ll bet they can make an awesome moose or deer out of parts, maybe a wolf, or a statue of Tecumseh. Different things in the same style.”

Nick looked at the girl for a second, and then nodded. “All right, I agree. But River, I have never met anyone who is so dead-set against getting rich.”

“It is not me that will be getting rich. It is the people. George and Kyle will get the money.”

“Most of it,” Nick said. “eBay will be charging a commission on the sale, I’m sure. And I think your operation should charge a commission as well. Perhaps 20 or 25%. We’ll have to talk with George and Kyle about what they feel is fair.”

“Well, last time I spoke with them they wanted $200 for welding supplies,” River laughed. “When we tell them they will get nearly $100,000, or whatever, I suspect they will faint.”

“I think I can talk with them,” Nick said. “They may even be interested in hiring a few helpers at their shop with the money. Their production will go up, and they will be able to sell more.”

“And more of the people get jobs,” River said. “I like it.”

Colin and Nick continued to talk, and River again felt out of her depth as they discussed the web page, viral marketing and e-commerce. She wandered out to the kitchen to talk with Mrs. Redhawk, who poured her a cup of tea. The two chatted for over an hour until the men were finished. River discovered that Colin’s new complexion, no longer scarred by acne since the river cleared it up, had changed the boy’s entire demeanor. He was more confident, and was now looking forward to going to high school, where before he had been terrified of going back to classes. River realized that she hadn’t considered going to school again in September that much herself, and committed herself to thinking about it.

River

By Dawn Natelle

Chapter 16

So far: River meets two new people, and the river bestows gifts on them. Carla gets a family, and a chance to be a girl, including a shopping trip. River and her new lawyer go to town, and make up with the hospital and the liquor agency. Then they cap off a busy day with a trip to Colin, resident computer nerd, and discover that a viral product means money will be coming into the reserve.

And now: For a change we will look at the following four days, Wednesday to Saturday as a block, in a series of vignettes looking at the main characters in the story.

River was busy for the next few days. She spent most of it in the new store after Nick worked some magic and got a lease signed, a deposit paid for and announced that there were several thousand dollars available for supplies to clean and repair the building. Nelson got the power connected in only two days, and allowed several extension cords to run through his store into the new area in the meantime. It turned out that having construction in the new store was entertainment to most of the idlers in town and on the reserve, and River somehow managed to convince all of the First Nations people, and quite a few townspeople who popped in to look around to join her cleaning crew.

The town had a small lumberyard/hardware store, and River purchased most of the needed cleaning supplies there, pretty much emptying out their stock. She also bought all of the white paint in the store, and ordered a lot more. The store manager was astounded, since his normal price for paint was a few dollars a gallon higher than the best prices in Sault. When he saw the scope of River’s order, he sharpened his pencil and came up with a discount that would bring the price down to near what she would get if she bought in the city. He was thrilled to get what looked like was going to be a 20% increase in his yearly sales, and River was happy to know that a financially shaky store was now stable, and would be around when local people needed to buy a bit of lumber or supplies without having to go to Terrace Bay.

The store windows were the first dealt with, and nearly 20 years of grime were removed from both inside and outside. Just cleaning the dirt away made the inside brighter and cheerier, although there was still a lot of work needed inside. The initial supply of paint went to the outside, around the windows and doors. One First Nations woman spent the entire day working on the beautiful old double doors, polishing the brass push bars, cleaning the windows until they were spotless, and then painting the wood parts of the doors red, making an attractive entranceway into the store.

Carl Bluelake, the painter who had done the painting of the Alpha wolf, was called in to consult on the design of the storefront. He liked the red door, which was a good thing, since River knew a major battle would be required to get the woman to change it. In fact, River suggested the name of the store could be Red Door First Nations Arts and Crafts. She polled all her helpers, who were proud to be consulted about the name and nearly unanimously loved the name.

Carl was told to buy three 4x8 sheets of top grade plywood, sawn into 2x8 pieces at the lumberyard. This would make a 48 foot long nameplate sign for the front of the store, replacing the smaller Northern Stores sign that had been in the same location years ago. River left the design completely up to Carl, and told him to also buy paints and supplies at the hardware store and put it on her account, along with the wood.

Colin reported in at midday on Thursday to update River on the eBay sales. He had sold Lyle and George’s monstrosity for $129,450 US, which worked out to over $150,000 Canadian. Nick had been wrong, and found that eBay’s commission maxed out at $750, practically nothing on a sale of that size. He had arranged with George and Lyle that the store would keep 25% commission on items over $50,000, with lower rates of 20% for items over $1000, and 15% for over $100. Smaller items would be charged at 10%.

The other good news was that Colin had sold one of Ben Stormcloud’s birch bark canoes for $3800, nearly four times what he usually got for one. The result was that soon the store would have almost $40,000 in operating capital from the commissions on the two items. River immediately agreed to Colin’s wish list of nearly $5000 for computer equipment and web hosting costs for the new web page, which he had somehow managed to complete while selling the canoe and sculpture.

River had to work out delivery for the two items. The winner of the sculpture was the Sacramento body shop, which had originated as a dealer in Indian Motorcycles, and thus would pay anything for the native-inspired totem of auto parts. The canoe was going to an address in Colorado, and Ben also wanted to deliver it personally. George insisted in installing the sculpture herself, so she and Ben borrowed an old, but reliable truck from another band member and made plans to head out on Monday. River had to insist on a rental of $500 to the truck owner, and told the two travellers that they were to stay at good motels along the way. Nick estimated the delivery cost at $6000 and the body shop was thrilled to learn that they could get their art installed by the creator for that price. A $200 fee was offered to the canoe buyer, who grumbled at the price. Nick then offered to have the unit delivered for $150 by UPS, but with no guarantees to the condition on arrival. The man buying the canoe chose to pay the extra when he found out that he would get a chance to meet the craftsman who had built it.

With the exception of the time that River needed him, Nick had spent most of the several days giving pretty much every member of the band a ride in his BMW. He had eight or nine kids in the car at a time, but was more restrained with the elders, who rode three at a time. He often took them off the reserve, and to other places they knew in the area. He was repaid for his time, and a considerable gas bill, by the lore that the old people passed on to him as they passed through areas they had visited in their youth. When he left over 10 years ago, he had hated those old stories. Now he couldn’t get enough of them.

With his younger riders, he was paid back by the pure joy the youngsters had in riding in the fanciest car that any of them had ever seen. Nick realized that he liked kids. He was practically an elder to them, and one who had lived in the big city for years. He loved the way they listened raptly to his stories about the city and its hustle and bustle, and why the slower life on the reserve was better. He realized that he wanted to be a father, and to have several children of his own.

The first evening, he took the three Stormcloud girls for their ride. He heard from Liesl that she had spent the day playing dolls with his new sister Carla. Marilyn and Shelly talked about their forthcoming trip with Ria and Rod up the river, which Nick found fascinating. Actually, it was Marilyn that he found most fascinating, and on the next three nights only those two went for drives out to the lake to watch the sunset and to talk.

Carla came to her new home on Wednesday evening like she was charged up on caffeine. She had spent the entire day with Liesl just being a girl, playing with dolls, dressing up, talking, and playing with lipstick (the only makeup Liesl was allowed to have). Carla was 14, but looked 11, and Liesl was 10, but acted 14, so the girls were a good fit together. Liesl was the leader in most of their activities, and Carla the follower, only objecting when Liesl wanted to do something that she considered boyish. They did go out in the early afternoon to the river, and sat on the banks overlooking the swiftly flowing water. Liesl noted a rabbit nearby and pointed to it. As a boy, Carl would have thrown a stone at it because that was what boys did, but deliberately missed it, since he hated hurting anything. Carla instead coaxed the rabbit closer by pulling out some grasses and slowly showing them to the rabbit. Slowly and surely, to Liesl’s amazement, the timid animal approached, and soon was munching the grass.

Over the next hour other rabbits approached, and both Liesl and Carla had fun feeding them. Finally, one of the wolves of the people passed by and the rabbits seemed to scatter. “That was so fun,” Liesl said. “I wish Night had picked a different time to visit though. He … Wait, what is so funny?”

“Look,” Carla said, and lifted her skirts. Underneath were four smaller rabbits, shaking in fear as they cowered around her bare legs. “They all ran in there to hide.”

It was later that evening that River finally got a chance to meet with Wayne, and explain who the man she had been driving around with was. To her surprise, he laughed at her fears of jealousy.

“I was worried a bit,” he chuckled. “I mean: what a car. He offered me a ride, and on it he explained everything. He even told me that I could take the car to London (Ontario) when I go back to college. That will be great. It takes eight hours to go to Toronto on the Greyhound, and then another three hours to get to the university. Driving will save several hours, and be way more comfortable. Nick wants to sell the car, and I will do it in London. There are a lot of rich kids at the university, and if not I will use Kijiji to sell it. He is good with anything over $25,000 and that should be easy to get. I get 10% of the first $25,000 and 20% of anything over that. I think it will sell for $30,000, so that could be $3,500 towards my term.”

River laughed: “I can just see you turning into the typical used car salesman. Are you going to buy a plaid suit?”

Ria and Rod spent those days preparing for their trip upriver. Coming back would be easy, but upriver they had to fight the current. Ben provided two older but sturdy canoes. They hoped to get to Stone Ledge Reservation in six days, and would spend two or three days there meeting the people. Then they would head up to Ice Spring reservation, a walk of three days each way. They would have to carry their tents and supplies on their backs. After two or three days there, it was three more days back to Stone Ledge, and then only two or three days downstream on the River. The four would leave on Sunday, after River’s river service, and would not be expected back for 18-21 days.

Alison and Dale were also busy those few days. Alison was continually refining her presentation, as well as getting ready for their return to Toronto on Sunday, right after the morning services. This would be her first presentation to a vice president at the bank, and she rehearsed what she wanted to say, and answers to any possible questions that he might have.

Dale found that he was split two ways a bit over those days. River called him several times to come to the store where she had questions of a construction nature. He soon realized that she had co-opted pretty much all of his crew as volunteers for a full day Saturday and that night she practised the ‘puppy dog eyes’ trick that little girls of all ages use on their fathers, and he agreed to spend the day there as well supervising. Of course that meant that he had a second project to plan, order supplies for, and troubleshoot.

Mark and Paul were gone from Wednesday to Saturday. They had met a bachelor elder who had taken a shine to the two young white boys, and offered to take them on an overnight adventure. Kemosabe would accompany them and, keeping the molester incident in mind, River asked the river if the trip was wise. She was told that Tall John George was completely safe, and that the boys would thrive in his hands. River had more than a little convincing to do before Alison and Dale would agree to let them go. That earned her a tight hug from Mark, and a smile of thanks from Paul.

The boys packed light. Tall John wouldn’t let them take a tent or sleeping bags, only blankets and two days’ worth of food. They would live off the land, he said. If they couldn’t fish, trap, or hunt any food, they would be back the following night. But he expected them to be gone until Saturday night. River insisted that they be back for the Sunday service. The boys left early Thursday morning. River was up, of course, and a tearful Alison was also there to hug her littlest boy away on his great adventure, to his great embarrassment.

The first night the boys built a birch lodge, under the direction of Tall John. By the time it was completed they were exhausted, and collapsed into their snug little house, which kept them warm in their blankets all night, and dry from the morning dew that covered the lodge at dawn, when Tall John took them out to set traps.

Their traps were not the garish metal things that trappers today use, but traditional Ojibwe traps made of cedar and other woods. They set several dozen, and then moved away and sat in a circle and learned how to make bows and fire-tipped arrows. Tall John told how in the old times there would be arrow makers who chipped flint tips for the arrows, but without access to these they used an older method of charring the tips of the arrows to harden them. By late afternoon they had each made a bow strung with deer gut Tall John had brought, and two or three usable arrows, fletched with feathers from Tall John’s pack. By usable, this means that each boy could shoot one for perhaps 10 or 12 feet, slightly further than they could throw them.

On the way back, they checked their traps, and found a small rabbit trapped in one of them. There was a vote and it was two to one to allow the small animal to go free. The boys learned about Ojibwe justice when they discovered that the vote was won by Tall John’s single vote. He took a rock and put the rabbit out of its misery. Both boys cringed at the final squeal of the animal, and Paul actually vomited as Tall John demonstrated how to skin and clean the animal, with Kemosabe getting his choice of the offal. Mark didn’t tease his friend about his discomfort, as he had nearly lost his lunch as well. Both boys vowed that they would not eat the tiny animal.

That resolve lasted until the rabbit stew was half cooked. On the way back Tall John pointed out several different plants, and the boys were able to dig up wild carrots, onions, and other tubers. As well they gathered mushrooms that Tall John declared safe to eat, while he pointed out others that would cause sickness or delirium. When the stew was half cooked in the pot, the smell was overpowering, along with the boys’ hunger. Both hungry boys gladly shared the stew out of the pot, even relishing the taste of the rabbit.

The next morning they went to the river (their trip had been several miles upriver from the reservation) where they spent time fishing in a tributary of the river. Tall John explained that while there were more fish in the main river, it was too cold to stand in that for more than a few seconds. He taught the boys how to make fish spears and a willow basket to land the fish in. Once done, they spent several hours in the stream, attempting to spear a fish. Tall John explained parallax by sticking his spear into the river, so they could see the apparent bend in the stick where it touched the water. This meant they had to aim below a fish to spear it.

This was extremely helpful in allowing the boys to scare the fish much closer than before. Finally, in late afternoon Tall John said they had best hope for another rabbit, or the stew would be vegetarian this night.

Tall John packed up the small amount of goods they had, and had Paul clean up the site, using the Ojibwe credo of leaving a site in better condition than they found it. As they did this, Mark went to the main river, and was able to see several fish lazing just off the bank. It was too far for him to spear them, but he crept into the water. It was cold, painfully so, but the fish didn’t notice him until he was close enough. He thrust his spear, just under a particularly fat trout, and was surprised to feel resistance. The spear entered the fish, as the others scattered.

“Good strike, boy,” Tall John said, getting out the creel. Mark tossed the fish to him, then hurried out of the water. “Fish stew tonight.”

Mark was shivering as he stood on the bank, and Tall John felt his legs. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around the boy’s legs, sitting him down. “I don’t know how you did that, boy,” Tall John said. “I can’t spend 10 seconds in that water and you were there for nearly two minutes.”

“My sister spends hours in it,” Mark shivered. “She is the rivertalker. I was in it a long time when I was with her close by. But alone it is really cold.”

“That must be it,” Tall John said. “It’s in your blood.”

“It nearly froze my blood,” Mark said.

“You boys sit here for a while with the wolf,” Tall John said. “I’ll check the three northern traps while you warm up, and then we’ll check the others on the way back to the lodge.”

It was nearly an hour later when Tall John returned, and Mark was able to give him back his jacket. The two boys again were directed to seek root plants as they made their way back, and to their surprise they discovered that they were able to spot many before Tall John even saw them. They also came across a blueberry patch, and again Tall John left them to gorge as he took the fish and veggies back to start the stew.

The boys were purple faced when they arrived at camp, directed on the proper path by the smell of roasting trout. There was a fish stew, but most of the smell came from fillets grilling atop the fire in a lattice of soaked willow branches. The boys feasted again, and soon had fish juice and stew gravy added to the blueberry juice on their faces.

The next day was Saturday, and they had to pack up. The lodge was allowed to stay, since it would be a starting point for any other hunter who needed a place to stay. But the rest of the site was cleaned up to the point where it looked untouched. Finally Tall John declared it ready, and the boys knelt with him in a circle. Tall John pulled a rattle out of his pack, and shook it as he sang a song of thanks to Manitou. Paul didn’t understand the words of the song, but Mark found that he knew a few, somehow. He clearly heard the words for Manitou, trout, thanks, and peace. After the song was ended, the boys marvelled at the rattle, which was made entirely of deer, with toes for the rattles, and a piece of antler providing the part that Tall John shook.

Before they left, they walked the trap line, dismantling each trap. Each boy took one of the traps they had set with them in their packs. In one trap they found a marten, dead, but only for a short time, Tall John declared. He skinned it, giving the pelt to Paul, since Mark had gotten the rabbit fur. They planned to eat trail food for their lunch, so Kemosabe feasted on more than just offal this time. After they disabled the last traps, they headed downriver, arriving at the park at about 5 p.m., just as River and Dale had returned from a successful day at the store and where Alison was making a final dinner of hot dogs and corn.

River smiled as her brother and Paul recounted their great adventure. The trip was the highlight of this entire vacation for the boys. River felt sorry for Mark, having to go back to Toronto for the next school year. She knew he would be back for Christmas, but she was going to miss him. He had matured so much over the past few weeks. It was like he was a year older. He had been her bratty brother before, but now she knew she loved him dearly.

Mark and Paul proudly showed off the furs they had trapped during their trip. They dumped the smelly furs at Alison’s feet, telling her that Tall John had told them that it was for the squaw to treat the furs and make them into clothing.

“I’m no squaw,” Alison declared. The boys looked at River, who shook her head while giving them a look that said ‘don’t even ask.’ “There may be a reason why Tall John never married,” Alison laughed. River suggested that they take the furs to one of the elder women after dinner.

River

By Dawn Natelle

Chapter 17

So far: Everyone on the reserve had spent a busy week preparing for the Sunday services, when the Prophet and the Singers would leave on their expedition.

Sunday morning River was up in the early darkness as usual, standing in the river. She remembered a story from one of her helpers in the store on Friday. This was Small John George, a cousin of the Tall John who had returned safely with her brother the night before. Small John was one of the idlers on the reserve who subsisted on welfare and a bit of hunting and fishing. He found that it was nice to have money that he normally would have spent on liquor within hours of cashing his cheque, but the money was burning a hole in his pocket. He said how hard it was to not go back to the liquor agency and get a few days worth of drunk.

The river had a solution, and told River a story she would relate to the people at the service at dawn. The service would be different from last week’s. Liesl and Carla were to be the singers in the water with her, since Ria, Shelly and Marilyn were expected to be too busy preparing for their trip upriver with Rod at the end of the ceremony.

Just then Carla appeared on the bank. “Come in, the water’s fine,” River joked. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. I am super nervous and couldn’t sleep. I thought you might be here,” the young girl admitted. “I’ve never sung for so many people before. I mean, I’ve never sung at all before. Will many be here?”

“I think everybody in the band will be here,” River admitted. “Last week a few missed, and I understand that they felt quite left out. Plus we have the Prophet and Singers going out. It is a pretty important day.”

“Nothing this cool ever happened at my old reserve,” Carla said. “It was just boring same old same old. I am so glad Nick brought me here. I love my new family, and now I have a best friend. I never really had a friend at the old place. The other boys there used to tease me, or beat me up for being girly, and the people that I thought were my parents there didn’t care. They thought it would toughen me up. Now I have real parents that love me, and a brother that loves me, and a big sister who is doing great things. Life is so much better here.”

“I’m so glad you like it here,” River said. “The river usually is pretty smart about the people it accepts into the band. Do you want to sing for a bit? To practice your songs?”

“Yes I do. At my old reserve only the men would sing, with the women in the background mostly. I love it here that girls get to take part in things.”

“Well, we really are half of the people,” River noted. “We should have equal rights to the men. So far we have managed to get a lot of the singing, and we always have had dancing. Someday we might even get a chance to do the drums. Of course, if you wanted to go back to being a boy, you could be a drummer one day.”

“No way,” Carla said with a look of shock on her face. “Please don’t do that. Don’t let the river make me a boy again. I am a girl. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” River said, not realizing how her little quip would affect the girl. “I was just joking. I can tell how much you are really a girl, and I think the river knows it too. Let’s sing.”

The two sang for several hours, going over all the songs that Carla would sing at the service several times, until she was confident that she would sing them perfectly, and also a few other songs that River felt she should know. Finally, just as the skies were starting to lighten, people started to show up at the river bank, including the Stormclouds. Carla climbed out of the river with a hand from her new brother Nick, and immediately ran over to hug Liesl, her singing partner and new best friend.

“Carla,” Liesl shrieked. “You’re bigger! And look, you have boobies!”

Carla noticed the same thing at the same time: she was now a bit taller than Liesl instead of a half inch shorter. And looking down she saw that she really did have breasts. Small A cups at best, but they were real breasts instead of the nubbins she had before. She dearly wanted to check to see if she was really all girl down below, but could not think of a way to do so politely in front of all these people.

“No, you are the same in that area,” River said quietly after she got out of the river. “The river has said it would change you, and has. It will make one more change, just before high school starts, and then you will change at the same rate as all other women, with the exception of when you change down below. And only the river knows when that will happen.”

“You are going to be a grown-up,” Liesl said sadly. When you go to high school I will have to take the bus to Terrace Bay to attend the middle school. We won’t be friends any more.”

“Yes we will,” Carla said, taking her friend in her arms, and hugging her tightly. “You were my first friend, my best friend, and will be my friend forever. I might be older, but you have been a girl longer, and I still need your help. Plus you are a lot of fun. BFF?”

“BFF,” Liesl said, and then giggled.

“What’s so funny,” Carla asked.

“Look. My sister and your big brother,” Liesl said, nodding towards Nick and Marilyn, who were holding hands up the river a bit, and talking softly. Carla’s eyes went wide. “We may be sisters-in-law, or whatever?”

“Now don’t go rushing things,” River said. She had been listening to the girls chat. “They have just met, and Marilyn is going away for three weeks or so. Anything could happen during that time. She could even come back from her trip with a boyfriend.”

“No way,” Liesl said. “I’ve heard her talking to Shelly. She is crazy over Nick, and not because he is rich. She says he is the kindest man she ever met: bringing you here, giving everyone rides in his car, being so nice to the elders. She really loves him. She just hopes he loves her too. Do you know, River?”

“No I don’t,” River said. “I see the way he looks at her, but I really don’t know how deep it is. Come on, we have a service to start, and you two have the opening songs to call all the people to the river.”

Liesl and Carla sang, and while they didn’t have the adult voices of the older girls, their efforts were well beyond the expectations of the band. When their song ended River spoke.

“This is a day of departure,” she said solemnly, her voice amplified as it flowed along the river so that all of the several hundred on shore could hear clearly. “The Prophet and the Singers will leave right after this ceremony, and I hope all of you will stay to celebrate their departure. Shortly after that much of my family will return to Toronto. My father will be back tomorrow, but my mother and brother will be gone for months, and I will miss them dearly. Tomorrow two of our members are leaving for a short while to deliver product to people across the west, showing that the influence of the river is spreading. Finally, all of you will depart from the river soon and go back to your homes, hopefully to come back again next Sunday so that we can again honor Manitou and the river and all the land.”

“But I have heard that some of you have been wondering about the vow of abstinence or at least temperance that most of you made at our first ceremony. Why should the people not partake of alcohol the way they want? It makes life easier, they say, or bearable. I spoke to the river about this, and it gave me a story that you should all hear.”

“This story goes back two hundred years. Back to the time of Tecumseh and the first Prophet, his brother Tenskwatawa. The Prophet had been given great powers by Manitou, and had brought together many of the peoples into one new nation, dedicated to holding their land from the whites, who always wanted more, and more, and more, leaving only small bits of bad land for the people. The Prophet preached that this must stop.”

“His brother, Tecumseh was the greatest warrior of his people, the Shawnee, and he managed to bring together warriors from all tribes. At this time the whites, in their blue jackets, and the British, in their red coats, were fighting a big war, and Tecumseh sided with the redcoats, who had treated the natives better. He formed a great army, and as our history says, many Ojibwe warriors joined the other peoples to form a great army of over 5,000 warriors. The prophet came before this army, and blessed them with a spell that made it so that the enemy would not be able to see them in battle, so their deadly rifles could not harm them. This made the army joyous, and they promised to obey the rules of the Prophet, which included a prohibition from drinking the firewater of the white people.”

“The army then headed out towards Moravian, in Canada, where the Prophet said the great battle was to take place. They did not travel as one great army the way the whites do, but split up into small bands of one or two hundred, and went towards the meeting place by different routes. One of the larger groups went through the western lands to the mouth of the great lake, and crossed over the great river there in many canoes. Once they landed, they found a small group of several dozen bluejackets, and attacked them. The bluejackets saw them, and ran, leaving their wagons behind.”

“It turns out that the wagons contained firewater, enough that all the warriors had a huge share, drinking themselves silly, and then still having a bottle or two to go into their pockets for the march to the meeting place the next day.”

“When they arrived at the meeting place, hung over, some still drinking, and completely useless as warriors, Tecumseh was irate. He slew the chieftain leading the men on the spot, and went amongst the warriors, breaking bottles and slapping the men, who were suddenly ashamed at what they had done. Then Tecumseh made what was his big mistake. He ordered that the men who had been drunk would stand at the front of his great army, and try to atone for their sins with bravery.”

“The battle happened the next day. The redcoats did not want to fight there, but to retreat back to York, but Tecumseh knew that he could not keep such a large army together for so long, nor raise another as large again the next season. He knew it was time to fight where his brother had prophesied, and managed to convince the redcoats to join him. They did, unwillingly.”

“The bluejackets came up and saw the shamed warriors at the front of the army. They had failed the prophet by drinking firewater, so his magic did not keep them hidden. They were picked off easily by the bluejacket rifles. What is more, the warriors behind saw that the magic did not work for those in the front, and lost faith in the Prophet. They also became visible and were shot, causing more and more warriors to lose faith and become visible. Soon warriors were falling left and right as the deadly bullets flew through the woods of Moravian. One stray bullet hit Tecumseh, as he stood directing the shambles of a battle with his personal guard of twenty warriors. Ten of these warriors were Shawnee, with others from the other tribes, including two Ojibwe. Those men never lost faith, and so remained invisible as the bluejackets killed almost all the rest. The redcoats ran away as they saw the warriors were losing.”

“These men gathered up the body of Tecumseh, and took it away so that the bluejackets could not claim it. They went up the river to near what was later to become the town of London, and buried Tecumseh there. He was buried on a hill overlooking the river Thames, and the warriors planted an acorn over the grave, which later grew into a mighty oak. Ojibwe people kept the tree, and the grave, safe and secret for 200 years. When the tree aged, and eventually died, another was planted in its place, and was known to the people there as the Warrior Tree, commemorating the death of the warriors at Moravian. People there no longer know that Tecumseh was buried there.”

“The result of this sad tale is that the great army of Tecumseh was destroyed because a few warriors could not resist firewater. Had they not gotten drunk, then the First Nations would have destroyed the bluejackets. The war was settled a few years later, but the voice of the First Nations was not at the bargaining tables. Had Tecumseh won, he would have been there, and a nation for the people would have been carved out of the lands that the whites stole over the next fifty years. A few cases of whiskey destroyed the chances of a homeland for the people.”

“If you know all that, and you want to still drink firewater, feel free to do so. Just don’t complain if your neighbors shun you, as the drunken warriors would have been shunned: had any of them lived through the battle. The firewater has been the bane of our people for 200 years. Do not fall for it again. Instead, let us all work together to make our nation strong again.”

River stopped talking and turned her back on the people to face her singers. She smiled faintly at them, wondering what the reaction to her longest speech ever would be. She noticed the eyes of the two girls widen, and then she heard the reaction. It was a roar. There were war chants not heard in 100 years, and other whoops and calls. There was thunderous applause as well. The wolves of the band were scattered through the crowd, and they too howled. River slowly turned back and looked on in amazement. These were her people, and they loved her. And she loved them. Initially it was the river that she loved, but now she realized that she loved every man, woman, and child in the band, as well as every tree, rock and blade of grass, every wolf, deer, otter, rabbit and bear. She loved the land, and its people. She was the rivertalker.

Finally she lifted her hand, and within seconds the crowd quieted, and soon after the wolves. “Do not cheer for me,” she said. “That story came from the river, and it is Manitou and the river that you must honor. I am merely the vessel that delivers their word to you.”

“However, there is one more departure coming up soon, and I ask Wayne Beartalker to enter the river to join me. In less than two weeks Wayne will return to his second year of studies as Western University, which happens to be close to where the Warrior Tree – Tecumseh’s grave – is located. As I speak the river is showing Wayne where to go. He will hike and canoe from the university to where the tree is, a trip of two days, and his task is to honor the tree, and the grave, and if possible to bring back three acorns from that tree. Two of these will honor the two Ojibwe who remained with Tecumseh to the end, and never lost faith. The other will be our own Tecumseh Tree, and all three will be planted on the banks of the river, here, where we have our ceremonies.”

Again the cheers rang out. “Thanks, River,” Wayne said sarcastically in a voice only River could hear. “I really needed a campout during school. Nothing better to do.”

“Has the river shown you where the tree is?” River asked.

“Yes, I can see the picture clearly in my mind,” Wayne said with a smile. “Thanks for choosing me for this. It really is a great honor.”

“I know of no one who could do it better,” River said.

The applause had started to die down, but suddenly jumped again. River turned and looked to see that two loaded canoes were being lowered into the water. Ben Stormcloud was at one end, while Rod and Nick held the other as the canoes were launched one at a time. Ria and Rod got into the front one, while Shelly and Marilyn got into the rear one. They each paddled up the river, as Silver the wolf loped alongside on the other side of the river from the people watching. Finally the canoes reached River, standing in the water. River shook Rod’s hand, and then kissed and hugged each of the three girls. Her young singers, Carla and Liesl also hugged and kissed their counterparts in the canoes, and then broke into the departure song. River joined in, and a few seconds later, every voice on the shore was singing.

Then the most amazing thing happened. The canoeists had had to work hard to paddle against the current to get up to River, but from that point on, the canoes shot forward. Everyone could see that for five or six feet around each boat, the river was flowing backwards. The current they thought they had to fight was now with them, and they continued to gain speed as they shot off up the river and around a bend that obscured them from sight. The people kept singing though, until it was clear that they would be out of earshot.

Liesl and Carla then sang their final two songs, and the ceremony was over. The three girls left the river and headed through the crowd, all of whom wanted to congratulate them: the girls on their fine singing, and River on her moving story.

River, however, wanted to get back to the campsite and finally Edith realized what she was doing and began running interference for her. They made it to the campsite just in time. Dale was itching to get going on the long drive to Toronto, while Alison was holding him back, wanting to see River again. She managed to hug each of the members of her family one last time before watching the van head out on the long trip.

(Those eager people who like to look things up might find the Battle of Moravian on their computers and learn that Wikipedia has a few different facts. It will claim that there were only 500-1000 warriors at the battle, not 5,000. And they may learn that the Prophet lost his leadership position two years before that battle. The story River told her was given to her by the river. So you need to decide whether the memories of Manitou are more accurate than a computer in Florida (or wherever). It is not disputed that the body of Tecumseh was never found, nor that there is an Ojibwe band reservation on the banks of the Thames near London. There is no named “Warrior Tree” there, although there are several old oaks in the area and one might be the one that protects the grave of Tecumseh.)

River

By Dawn Natelle

Chapter 18

So far: The wildly successful day of departures is over, and now the scene of the action leaves River for a few chapters and concentrates on her mother and brother over the next two chapters.

Lois Macintyre stood at the elevator banks at 200 Bay Street in Toronto, waiting for a car that would be headed up to the Royal Bank head offices on the 41st floor of the south tower of Royal Bank Plaza. She noticed a new face, a young blonde dressed in a smart suit that accentuated her fantastic figure. This was not surprising, young graduates were always joining the bank. What was surprising was that this girl, no more than 25 by her looks, pressed the button for the 39th floor. Junior employees started on the 36th floor, the lowest of the Royal block of floors. Occasionally a new hire with an MBA might start on the 37th floor, but these were seldom female, and almost never as attractive as this girl.

When the elevator stopped on the 39th floor and the pretty girl got off, Mrs. Macintyre pressed the hold button. None of the other three remaining on the car complained. Few at the bank were brave enough to question the assistant to the Vice President of Branch Operations. Lois noted that the pretty girl walked over to the Audit department, and then towards the offices, not the cubicles. This merited investigation.

In her office Lois phoned down to one of her contacts in the audit department. “Harriet, did you have a new employee start today? A pretty blonde with blue eyes, about 25?”

“No, Mrs. Macintyre. There are no new hires today that I know of. Wait, was she wearing a dark blue pantsuit? Very smart?”

“Yes that is her. Who is it?”

“That is Alison Waters, one of the heads of the audit teams. She has actually been here longer than I have, eight years. It is amazing. She looked like a normal 35-year-old before she went on vacation, and came back looking like a flipping teenager -- well, almost. All the girls in the department are going after her to find out how she did it. The men are just drooling. I mean, one of her sons is a teenager, and she looks like that? Is that fair?”

“Look into it for me, and let me know, Harriet. I will consider it a personal favour.”

Lois hung up the phone, confident that she would know the entire story within a few hours. The name Alison Waters had tweaked a memory, and she checked. Yes, the girl, or woman more correctly, had phoned in a week or so ago asking for a half hour appointment with Mr. Langston. She had some idea about a new branch location up north somewhere. Lois immediately rescheduled Mr. Langston’s other appointments before 2 p.m. She knew that he would want to extend the meeting to a lunch meeting, at the least. Unfortunately the 2 p.m. meeting was with a senior vice president, and could not be rescheduled.

The girl would get her new branch, if she played her cards right with Mr. Langston, Lois mused. The man was a bit of a player, and liked young meat like Ms. Waters. But Lois knew that Mr. Langston would tire of her after a few weeks, or perhaps a few months. The girl really was that pretty. She had no hopes of it being more than a fling. Mr. Langston’s career and success was tied into his marriage into the Weston family, and divorce was not an option for him. Even a long-term affair could jeopardize his position.

Lois had learned all that 25 years ago when she had been the pretty young thing given a position with the young fast-rising star executive. Their relationship had been hot, torrid, and long, lasting five years before Mrs. Weston-Langston learned of it. For a half year Lois was banished to the secretarial pool, but after Mr. Langston had a fling with another girl, she was offered a position to be his assistant again, but without the hanky-panky. She admitted it: she was still in love with him, and was sure that he loved her in a way. For a few years she dreamed of plots to remove Mrs. Weston-Langston from the picture, so that she could marry Thornton. But eventually even that dream faded. Why would such a successful man marry an old frump like her? He would pick a young trophy wife like Ms. Waters.

Alison didn’t get much work done that morning. Her office was a constant hive of activity as word of her appearance got around the office. Everyone wanted to know her secret, and to get in on it. She couldn’t tell them that she had been magically transformed by sitting in an ice-cold river with her daughter, formerly her son. Instead she just used the story that two weeks in a campsite, with no worries or concerns had eased the wrinkles, and noted that in a week or two of running her audit team, they would be back again.

Even Mrs. Macintyre had dropped in to see her. It was a nice gesture, to see what equipment she might need for her presentation to Mr. Langston tomorrow. She had apparently also heard about her transformation, and was as pressing as the girls in the office to find out how she had done it.

In the afternoon, things calmed down a bit, and Alison was able to get a report from her assistant on the team as to what had happened over the prior two weeks, and what was coming up. She even had a chance to go over her presentation again. It didn’t need to be so rushed. Mrs. Macintyre had told her that she was going to get a full hour with Mr. Langston, and that she should keep her schedule clear until after lunch, in case the vice-president took a liking to her plan. Alison was thrilled. It all looked so positive.

That night she connected with Mark, who had spent most of the day wandering the local mall, and had picked out a few clothes for school, as Alison had requested. He apparently had spent more time at the video games store, and had a wish list there that was larger than his clothing list. Alison realized that without River or his dad around, Mark might get lonely this year, so she agreed that she “might” buy him a game or two, but only if he concentrated on back-to-school wear tomorrow. On Wednesday, after work, the two of them would head out to the mall together to buy the items Mark had selected.

The next morning Alison got in early and pretty much locked herself in her office, fine-tuning her presentation to Mr. Langston at 10. At 9:55 she was in Mrs. Macintyre’s office, waiting for the meeting, which actually started a couple of minutes early.

Alison started to worry within a few minutes. The leering look that Mr. Langston gave as she entered was a concern, as was his initial suggestion that they “take off their jackets and get to work.” One does not question a vice president, so after the man doffed his suit coat, Alison grudgingly took of her jacket, glad that she had chosen a fine silk blouse to go with the power suit.

She wanted to get started on the presentation right away, by Mr. Langston went over to the settee in the office and suggested that the two “get to know each other” a bit first. Alison hesitated, but knowing she had a full hour to deal with a half hour presentation, she sat down, only to find Mr. Langston sit uncomfortably close to her.

Alison tried her best to keep her distance, mentioning her husband several times and her kids as well, to let the man know that she was happily married. He didn’t seem to hear though, and was entirely too tactile, touching Alison on the knee, the shoulder, stroking her long blonde hair, while complimenting her on her beauty and her figure, stressing how much he would be able to assist her in moving ahead in the company. He didn’t mention the price he would charge her for his help, but she was savvy enough to know that it was a price she would be unwilling to pay.

“You really have a wonderful figure,” Mr. Langston said. “Who did your breasts?”

“What?” Alison asked in amazement, standing up quickly as the man’s hand started to approach her bosom. He continued to pursue, and Alison managed to get his massive desk between them. He trailed her around the desk once, and on a second trip he pushed on the end of the desk, and it slid across the floor, trapping her between him and the wall. It was a little invention he had a cabinet-maker install years ago. A release would raise the desk on wheels, and pushing the button a second time would lower it the quarter inch needed to make the desk completely immobile.

“Please Mr. Langston,” Alison said. “I want to keep this on a business level.”

“And I want to take it to another level,” the man said snidely, looming over her and finally putting his hands on his targets. He tugged, the silk top ripped, and then he pulled Alison’s bra down, exposing her breasts. Alison gave up and screamed.

Mrs. Macintyre was in the office in seconds, and could clearly see that Alison was being molested, but instead turned on her.

“You hussy,” she accused. “Coming in here and trying to seduce a happily married man. You should be ashamed of your self.”

“What? No. It wasn’t me, I …”

“I saw everything Mr. Langston,” the woman lied. “First she tried to seduce you, and when you wouldn’t react, she tore her bra off and pretended you were molesting her. Some women will do anything to get ahead. I have already called security.”

Alison was completely at a loss. While she was trying to make herself look decent again, Mrs. Macintyre went into Alison’s purse and took her keys and her phone.

“I need those,” Alison complained.

“The keys are bank property, and the phone is too,” Mrs. Macintyre said, taking the bank keys off her chain and then tossing the other keys back to her, as Mr. Langston pushed his desk back into its normal position and released the catch. “You can consider yourself unemployed. Security will take you down to HR, and to your desk if there is anything there that is not bank property. Your computer accounts will be closed.”

Two security men came into the room, and Alison and Mrs. Macintyre gave their conflicting accounts of what happened. When the guard tried to move the desk, it failed to budge, to Alison’s surprise. Suddenly her account seemed less solid. She was escorted in shame down one floor to the HR department where she was, as Mrs. Macintyre suggested, let go with cause. She was asked to sign various termination documents, which she wisely refused. She was given a package to take home and read at her leisure and later sign, to gain her record of employment (needed for unemployment insurance) and any termination benefits.

The most embarrassing part of the day came when she was taken down the next floor to her offices. She was marched in shame across the floor, past her staff in her torn and dishevelled suit, to her office, where she was allowed to take home her desk pictures of her husband and family, and not much else. She was then escorted to the elevators, and down to the front door of the building, and unceremonious dumped onto the street.

Alison didn’t remember much about the ride home on the subway and bus to her home. She didn’t even have access to a phone to call anyone until she got to the house. She finally arrived home just after noon, and wondered who to call. If she called Dale he would come back and storm the bank, probably trying to bodily harm to Mr. Langston. She didn’t need a husband in jail. She decided she would need a lawyer, but was unsure who to call. Then she remembered River’s friend Nick. He had practised in Toronto, and probably could recommend someone himself. But how was she to get of him?

Wayne! He would know, but Alison now had to contact him. Finally, she called the park office, in hopes that someone there would be able to get a hold of them.

“Gelenamikwak Park, Margie speaking,” a voice said. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Margie. This is Alison Waters, River’s mom. I’m calling from Toronto. I wonder if you could give me Wayne’s number. I need to contact Nick, and thought he would know.”

“Wayne will be out with the JR crew right now,” Margie said. “But I happen to know that Nick is in Toronto right now. He left just after your family did. He’s in Toronto for a few days looking after his house and some other things. Would you like his cell number?”

“Could you?” Alison said, amazed that the receptionist would give out personal information so easily to someone she really didn’t know. But that was the difference between Toronto and the band. Here everything was cold and dangerous. She didn’t know if she could survive down here without a job. Mark was so insistent about going to school for this year here. She hoped that she would be able to change that to just a term. She really wanted to get back to the peace and safety of the river, with her husband and her new daughter.

She called Nick, and within a half hour he was at her house. His wasn’t far away, but in a much nicer neighborhood on the ravine. She spent most of that half hour in tears recounting all that had taken place today.

Nick immediately saw the distress in Alison’s face. He listened patiently while she described what had happened, and then read through the papers the bank had submitted. He finally finished and spoke.

“They are definitely trying to screw you, excuse the poor imagery. It’s a good thing you didn’t sign anything at the bank. They probably would have left you with nothing. This settlement is pretty average with two weeks salary for every year you spent at the bank? That is 15, right? We can do better if we threaten to sue for sexual misconduct.”

“Of course we will sue,” Alison said.

“Oh, we can’t win,” Nick said glumly. “Your case is too weak. It’s your word against two senior bank officials. But they won’t want it to go to trial. The media coverage would be lurid and sensational; I’d make sure of that. We won’t be able to get a million dollar settlement, but we should be able to get close to that.”

Alison was just starting to process what Nick had said when the phone rang. It was Mark. “Mom, I couldn’t get you on your cell. Thank goodness you picked up. I’m in jail!”

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 19

So far: We start a chapter in which River does not appear. After Alison’s horrible session with the vice president of the bank left her unemployed and shattered, she met up with the lawyer Nick and started to calm down. In this chapter we look at what her son, Mark did at the same time as Alison’s meeting.

Mark wandered through the Taddle Creek Mall, three floors of retail extravagance. In his mind he compared its 300-plus stores to the one main store in St. Mary’s. And there were more people in his line of sight at any time than all of the town and the reserve. But he felt lonelier among all these uncaring people than he ever had up north. Everyone there knew him, either personally or as River’s brother. People smiled at him in the north. Here they didn’t even seem to see him.

Yesterday he had been at the mall all day, but it was with Paul. Today Paul’s mom was off work, and she had taken him on a shopping expedition to get new back to school clothes, one of the least fun things a 10-year-old boy wants to do. But Paul, like Mark, had shot up several inches in height while on their two week vacation, and his Mom wanted to get him into clothes that fit. Mark opted not to hang around with them: he would have his own torturous back-to-school spree with his mom soon.

Mark wandered through the mall, noting how many kids there were. He knew a very few of them from his school. He looked like someone going into grade six or seven, not grade five, but his brain was still only 10, so he really didn’t notice that some of the older girls were looking at him differently. Mark really wasn’t interested in girls at all at his age.

He did notice one girl as he stopped off for a quick washroom break just before noon. It was Lisa Stromen, who lived just down the street from them, and was a good friend of River’s. But that had been as Ricky, and Mark really didn’t want to have to explain things about River to her. He waited until she had gone into the ladies’ room before he headed to the men’s. He knew that he could be in and out long before a girl, so he went in, did his business, and was out two minutes later.

As he walked out he noticed four mean-looking boys a few inches bigger than him, and much older. They went to the same school, but were in Grade 7 or 8, and were pretty much bullies that picked on the younger kids like him. He wondered why they were loitering outside the washrooms. He didn’t fear for his own safety. When he had spent so much time in the river with his sister after the molestation incident, the river had taught him Ojibwe fighting techniques, and he was quite certain he could handle himself in a fight. Maybe not with four at once, but he knew that they would suffer if they tried anything.

He was walking out in the main mall when he stopped dead. Lisa! What if the boys were waiting to bother her? He started trotting back to the back area where the washrooms were. As he turned the corner, he saw that his fears were right. Two of the boys had Lisa’s arms, and were forcing her towards a room, where a third boy held a door open. Lisa had something shoved into her mouth, but was looking around wildly in terror.

“Hey, let her go,” Mark yelled out as he ran towards them. The boy at the door, and one of the boys holding Lisa came at Mark, and each grabbed one of Mark’s arms. The other boy, the leader of the group, smiled.

“Little boy, you have made a big mistake. Lisa here is going to provide us with a little bit of fun. Now you have gotten into the way. I think I will have to teach you a lesson.” He pulled back his arm and was about to swing at Mark when the younger boy sprang into action. As the fist was coming towards his face, he twisted, and the blow aimed at his face missed him entirely and connected with the boy holding his right arm. That boy dropped, and then Mark twisted again, causing the boy holding his other arm to loosen his hold.

Mark felt the power of the river course though him, and flung the second boy 20 feet away, hearing his skull hit the hard floor with a thud. Lisa got the gag out of her mouth, and screamed. The boy who had thrown the punch then pulled out a great Bowie knife with intricate carvings on the blade and haft. He swung it at Mark, who grabbed the boy’s arm as he dodged the knife. Mark pushed, and the blade continued its arc until it entered the boy’s thigh, leading to a horrid scream.

That was when the mall security arrived. They looked around and saw one boy bleeding from his leg, another unconscious on the floor, and a third dazed by the missed blow. They immediately placed the blame on Mark, the one boy standing and unhurt, and forced him to the ground. Mark smiled as he went down, realizing that if he wanted to he could have treated the mall cops just as badly as he had the toughs. But he went to the ground, a bit slower than the mall cops wanted, and let them put their nylon ties around his hands behind his back.

By then Lisa was trying to explain what had happened. She knew all four boys by name, including the one who had been holding her. He had run away as soon as Lisa screamed, leaving his buddies to their own fate. It took several minutes for her to explain that Mark was not the aggressor in the incident, during which time he lay on the rough floor of the mall back hallway. EMTs arrived and took away the bleeding boy as well as the other two. The one who had been thrown was still not conscious. Then the police arrived.

“It was Perry Orange that had the knife,” Lisa explained to the officer interviewing her.

“Orange? Is his dad a police officer?”

“Yeah, Perry is always bragging about that when he bullies people. He says his dad is a cop and he can do what he wants to,” Lisa said.

“Art Orange was my partner a few years back,” the officer said. “He’s going to go ballistic when he finds out that this kid stabbed his son.”

“But he didn’t stab him,” Lisa protested. “He stabbed himself when he missed Mark.” The officer didn’t seem to hear, or care and went over to his partner and spoke to him for a few moments. They both returned and hauled Mark roughly to his feet. They told Lisa they might be in contact with her later. Lisa’s mother worked in one of the mall stores and arrived at that time. Lisa tried to insist that Mark had done nothing wrong, but the police weren’t listening to her, and hauled Mark off to their cruiser while Mrs. Stromen led Lisa away, insisting that the police knew what they were doing.

At the division station the incident received a bit of attention. Two of the boys had been admitted to the hospital, while the third was sent home after treatment for possible concussion. The fact that one of the injured was the son of a police officer connected with many of the officers who had children. Mark was treated roughly, and after the identification stages of mug shot and fingerprints, was locked into a small cell as a minor.

The acting superintendent of 32 Division, Insp. Ron O’Rourke, took a special interest in the case when he heard that Art Orange was the parent of one of the injured. He interviewed Mark, and questioned many of the boy’s facts. To start with, he looked older than age 10, and had somehow managed to successfully handle four 14 and 15-year-olds. The injuries he had caused were severe enough that it seemed only a larger man could have caused them. His story, that he learned “Indian fighting” methods while on a two week vacation in northern Ontario, was clearly a lie. Insp. O’Rourke had 30 years of martial arts experience, and knew that it takes months to years to gain even the basics of the arts.

After the boy had been returned to his cell, a video from the mall was brought in, and the inspector watched in rapt silence with the investigating officers. Soon it became clear that the boy was right in every detail. The video showed the four boys approach the girl. Two grabbed her arms, while a third, Const. Orange’s son, the inspector realized, shoved some type of garment into her mouth when she opened it to scream. The boy then clearly could be seen fondling the girl’s breast, with a leer that sickened the inspector. His daughter was older, and recently married, but he knew what trauma would have resulted from such an attack to a young teen girl.

Then the boys could be seen dragging the girl towards a storeroom or utility room across from the washrooms. A fourth boy was standing holding the door open. There was no sound on the tape, but you could see the faces of all four boys turn when they heard something. Fear on their faces quickly turned into broad smiles as the smaller boy ran up towards them. The boy at the door grabbed the boy, while another let go of the girl and grabbed the smaller boy’s other arm. Then the biggest of the boys, Const. Orange’s son, approached the immobilized boy. He pulled back and threw a mighty punch at the younger boy. The boy twisted at the last second, and the blow hit one of the boys holding Mark’s arms, who went down like a rock.

Then the officers watched in amazement as Mark grabbed the second boy holding him, and flung the boy 20 feet, leaving him unconscious. When that happened the face of the other boy went from amusement to fear, and he reached behind him to pull a huge Bowie knife. The inspector gasped, and paused the video.

“That knife,” he said. “Do we have it?”

“Right here,” the officer said, reaching into the evidence box that the video tape had been in. He pulled out the knife, in a plastic evidence bag. “We need to have it dusted for prints.”

“Do that immediately,” Insp. O’Rourke said picking up the blade, but not removing it from the bag. “I’ve seen this knife before. Remember the Collinson case four years ago? A drug dealer knifed and killed a police informer with that knife. The perp got off when the case went to court and the murder weapon had been lost from the evidence room.”

“Remember? It was my bust,” the officer said. “I was so pissed when I watched that little punk walk out of court, gloating at us, because someone misplaced the knife.”

“I’m not sure it was misplaced,” the inspector said. “The patterns etched onto that blade, and the haft, are unique, and if we still have photos of the original knife I’ll guarantee this is the same one. I think someone on the force took a shine to the knife and decided that it was more important to have it in his personal collection instead of the court.” He pushed the play button on the video and the officers watched as Perry Orange swung the knife. Mark reacted again, grabbing Perry’s arm at the last second and deflecting the blade down into his own thigh. At the same time the fourth boy let the girl go and ran out one of the service doors in the mall. The girl pulled off her gag, and could be seen screaming.

Soon the mall cops arrived, and it could be seen that they were unable to force Mark to the floor, and only succeeded when he decided that he would allow it. The tape continued until the police and EMTs arrived to deal with the situation.

“Nothing much after this, although there is another 40 minutes of tape, up until we left the scene and collected the video,” the officer said.

“So gentlemen,” the inspector said, “after watching all this, are you so certain that the young boy is guilty of any crimes?”

“No, Ron,” the officer said. “Everything he did was self-defence. The other four could be charged with abduction and threatening sexual assault. Art’s boy definitely was sexually assaulting the girl, and his attacking the younger boy with a knife is also a serious crime.”

“Not could be,” the inspector said, “Will be. No officer or member of an officer’s family is immune from prosecution if they commit a crime. Do we have IDs on the other three boys?”

“Yes we do,” the officer said. “The victim knew all five of the boys by name, and we have them.”

“Head out to the homes of the two who are not in hospital and bring them in for questioning,” the inspector said. “Have officers at the hospital where the others are, and have them questioned as soon as they are able.”

The men stood to leave when suddenly an alert siren sounded. All three headed out to the reception area and were told by the duty officer that there was violence in Cell 14. Inspector O’Rourke’s heart flipped hearing that. It was the cell that he had sent Mark to: a cell where the boy should have been alone.

He pushed through several officers in the hallway to get to the cell, and when he arrived there he was amazed to find that there were five people in the tiny cell. Mark was sitting on a bench, panting heavily. He looked bigger and older than he had a half hour early when the inspector had interviewed him. His clothes then had been loose, but now were tight on a bigger body. He now looked to be a student going into grade nine or 10.

In the cell there were four other men, drug dealers who should have been in adult holding cells. One had a knife sticking out of his arm, and two others were unconscious. The final man was cowering in the corner of the cell, furthest from Mark, and pleading for officers to move him to another location.

“What happened, Mark?” the inspector asked.

“They brought these other guys in about 15 minutes ago,” the boy said. He looked 14 or 15 now, but his voice was still high and pre-adolescent. “They waited until after the police were out of the hall and then two grabbed me, and that guy,” he pointed to the one cowering in the corner, “pulled the knife and started to come at me. I didn’t want to hurt them, really I didn’t. But they were going to hurt me.”

“They never told us the kid was a superhero,” the thug in the corner said. “He just tossed Skin and Evans like they were dolls. They are still out. I swung the knife, and he pulled Benji so that the knife hit him instead of the kid. That’s when I decided I wasn’t messing with no superhero.”

“First of all, who is ‘they’,” the inspector asked.

“The cop that got us. He told us he would give us a hundred each and a hit of speed if we cut the boy up bad. He said he would get us off our dealing charges too. Gave me the knife from his own pocket.”

“There are initials on the knife,” the inspector said to the officer giving first aid to the knifed man. “What are they?”

“AO” said the officer. “That looks a lot like a knife that Art Orange has.”

“How did these men get into the cell? This is a juvenile-only cell.” He looked up at the security camera, and saw that a towel, similar to the ones in the shower room, had been thrown up and obscured the lens. “I want to see the tape from that camera as soon as possible, and if there are any blank spots before the lens is obscured, heads will roll.”

“I moved them in,” an officer said. “I didn’t notice the camera was covered. Art Orange said that you ordered the move, and the paperwork would follow. Then he took off. Said he wanted to get to the hospital to see his boy.”

“Right,” Inspector O’Rourke said. “Effectively immediately, Art Orange is suspended. “I want him here in my office within a half hour. Arrest him if you have to. God knows he has earned it.” He pointed at two officers to go after Orange, and ordered the others to their duties. The cowering prisoner was moved back to his original cell, but the three injured had to be escorted to hospital for treatment. Insp. O’Rouke realized that his division was now seriously undermanned, and ordered the reception officer to call in several more officers.

The inspector took Mark personally up to his office, and told the boy he was free to go.

“Can I call my Mom,” the boy asked.

“You weren’t given a call earlier?” the inspector asked.

“I tried, but I couldn’t reach her cell number,” Mark said. “I’ll try the house, although she shouldn’t be home until after 6.” He dialed the inspector’s desk phone. “Mom, I couldn’t get you on your cell. Thank goodness you picked up. I’m in jail!”

Alison and Nick were at the Division headquarters within a half hour, and the inspector was a bit upset to find that the boy’s mother had brought a lawyer. The police department had messed this case up so badly that there was certain to be a huge lawsuit. He saw his chances of being promoted to full superintendent vanishing before his eyes.

Alison rushed up to her son and hugged him deeply, thrilled to know that he had not been hurt in any way. She stepped back: “You are bigger again? How did that happen?”

“I don’t know,” Mark said. “When the men attacked me in the cell, I could feel the power of the river going through me. I guess I grew then. We will have to ask River how it happened.”

The inspector was more than a little confused. He knew that Mark had grown, and now his mother was confirming it. And the talk about a river doing it, and asking the river how it happened was totally confusing. “Can someone explain all this to me?” he finally asked.

“Probably not,” Nick explained. “It has to do with a mystical river flowing into Lake Superior, that sometimes gives ‘gifts’ to people. It made Mark bigger a couple weeks back, and now it seems to have done so again, although I have no idea how. You normally have to be in the river to get a gift. And the River we are going to ask is Mark’s sister, also named River. She has a deep connection to the river … the water one.”

“Okay,” the inspector said slowly. He turned to Mark. “Is that the river that you said taught you to fight?”

“Yes,” Mark said. “And when I was fighting today, first with the boys, and then with the men, I could feel it tell me what to do. ‘Twist left now, push the arm down, stuff like that.’”

The inspector just shook his head. None of this hocus pocus stuff would look good in a report. But maybe it would convince a jury that these people were insane, and the settlement would be limited. It didn’t matter, his career would be in a shambles long before then.

“Your son is free to go, Ms. Waters,” he said. “The video evidence was pretty clear that any harm to the other boys were caused by themselves and his self-defence.”

At that point several officers burst into the office. One, a short but stocky man with a red face was raging mad. “What the hell is this crap about me being suspended?” he roared at the inspector.

“Excuse me, Orange, but I have visitors now. I will deal with you shortly.”

“Sod your visitors. You will deal with me now, or I’ll have the union on you so fast your head will spin,” the man raged. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing,” the inspector’s voice rose a bit. “You sent four perps into a juvenile cell without authorization. One of them had what appears to be your Swiss Army knife, and attacked the boy with it. That is not nothing.”

“Did they kill the punk?” Orange shouted.

“No they didn’t,” the inspector said. “He is standing right there.”

“You? You’re the punk that stabbed my boy?” Orange leapt at Mark, only to have the boy take a quick step to the side, and then press his hand down on the shoulder of the man attacking him, knocking him to the floor.” A second later he had his knee on Orange’s neck, effectively holding him down.

“Assaulting the police,” the prone man yelled. “You’re in for it now.”

“I don’t think so,” the inspector said calmly. “For one thing, you assaulted him. And don’t claim resisting arrest, because you no longer have the authority to arrest anyone. You are suspended. And not only for your little trick with the druggies. The knife your son was using was one that was stolen from the evidence room five years ago. I just got a report back and the only recent prints on it were yours and your sons.”

“But that punk stabbed my boy,” Orange protested, still unable to get up.

“No he didn’t. Video evidence shows your son trying to stab the boy. He missed and the knife went into his own leg. He stabbed himself. And he is also facing charges of sexual assault and forcible abduction, not to mention the crimes related to the knife attack. With his record of misdemeanors in the past, your son is going to spend time incarcerated. Take him away, and put him in Cell 11 for a while to cool down. I will call for him after our guests leave.”

The other two officers came, and motioned for Mark to step back. As Mark did, Orange shot out his now freed arm in an effort to trip the boy. But Mark just jumped into the air, landing on the man’s arm. Orange screamed assault again, but it was ignored and he was led away.

“I’m sorry for that,” the inspector said. “That was not one of Toronto’s Finest. We will be better off with him off the force, although it will probably take a year or two for it to go through the system.

“All the while he will be collecting his full salary,” Nick said. In Ontario any suspended officer receives full pay while his case is heard.

“Yes. Nothing I can do about that. You folk are free to go. My only concern is that Orange is a bit of a loose wheel, and might try something else, especially after the little show he just put on. You might not want to be in your home tonight. The address is on the criminal complaint that was filed against your son. I can keep Orange here for a few hours, but he will be free to go at some point. Hopefully when he sees the evidence against his boy he will calm down, but I wouldn’t count on it. He is one of the types that has to blame someone else for anything that they do wrong.”

“Thank you for everything,” Mark said, shaking the inspector’s hand.

“Yes,” Alison said. “Mark and I are moving back north, probably tomorrow, I have already been planning to make arrangements to sell our house. I’m certain we can find a place to stay tonight.”

“I can guarantee that,” Nick said. “They will stay at my address. As a lawyer I’ve been pretty careful to keep my address out of public information. We will all be heading north tomorrow, once we talk to the realtor.”

“But Mom,” Mark said. “What about your job?”

“We can talk about that later,” Alison said. “Let’s go.”

Sorry for taking such a long time to get this chapter out. I hope to get back to a weekly (or quicker) schedule now that I have gotten my real life straightened out.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 20

So far: Mark and Alison no longer have any ties to Toronto, and plan to head north following their respective adventures, riding in convoy with Nick. As well, let’s update what River and the others were doing on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

While Alison might have wanted to get back to St. Mary’s as soon as possible, the three did not get away as early as they might have wanted. For one thing, none of Mark’s clothes fit him, so he wore some of Nick’s, which were too large, and spent an hour at a nearby Walmart to get a few things that did fit. Then there was a meeting with Nick’s realtor to start the process of selling the Waters’ house. Dale would have to sign the papers as well before the house could actually be sold, but Alison was able to give the agent a key to get the process started.

Thus it was nearly noon when they left Toronto, with Nick following the Waters’ van. Any idea of getting all the way north by night was gone, especially since Alison intended to spend several hours on back-to-school shopping at the mall in Sault Ste. Marie. Mark only had what he was wearing, and a change of clothes from the Walmart. They would get to Sault, shop for a few hours, and then head off to a cheap motel where they would spend the night. Mark and Alison would stay in one room, and Nick in another. Mark, even though he looked to be a teen, was still only 10, and had to get to bed early, but the adults spent the night chatting, and as they talked a plan on how to get banking services for St. Mary’s started to form.

While interesting things had been happening in Toronto, River had not been idle. After seeing off the many departures of Sunday, she was a bit surprised to see a return to town on the Monday. It was Connie Churchill, ex-wife of Nelson Churchill, who ran the liquor agency. River had been talking with Connie via e-mail and phone for the past several days, and the older woman had given her invaluable advice about setting up the store. Just before noon a well-dressed woman of about 40 or 45 walked up to River as she was directing her helpers in the store.

“Can I help?” the woman asked.

“Certainly,” River said, thinking that this was someone she hadn’t met from the town. “We need help scrubbing the shelving units, but you really aren’t dressed for that. Maybe some sweeping up?”

“Certainly,” the woman said. “Those old shelves are cleaning up nicely after all these years, aren’t they. I’m Connie, but the way.”

“Connie?” It clicked into place for River. “Oh my. I am River. I am so glad to meet you. I thought you were a volunteer from town. And I nearly had you scrubbing shelves.”

“There would be nothing wrong with that,” Connie said. “I’ve been in retail long enough to know that a good manager is not above doing anything that needs to be done. I’ve probably spent more time cleaning those shelves than any of the people you have working on them so far. How can you afford so many helpers?”

“They are all volunteers,” River said. “The store will help all the people on the reservation by selling their arts and crafts, so there is a lot of excitement about the store. And people from town keep coming in out of curiosity. The funny thing is, they keep coming back. I guess we are more fun here than sitting at home watching TV.”

“All volunteers, eh?” Connie asked a little glumly. “I was wondering if there might be a job available up here. I loved this place, and hated to have to leave when they closed the store.”

“Really?” River said with excitement in her voice. “I never dreamed you would be interested in working here. We can’t afford to pay much, at least at first. Nothing what you would be getting at the Bay.”

“Well, things at the Bay aren’t doing that well,” Connie admitted. “They recently went through another round of layoffs. Retail in general is in trouble. The only success stories are those with strong online options, or a specific niche. Exactly what you are doing here. After chatting with you on the phone yesterday evening, and on email before that, I got really excited about what you are doing. I couldn’t sleep much last night, so I got in the car early and drove up here.”

“What? You would quit the Bay to come here?”

“In a heartbeat. I need to give two weeks notice, but if you say so, then I’m here. For whatever you can pay. Within reason. I do need to live, although if I remember, it is a lot cheaper living up here.”

“Let’s go across the road to the café and talk about this,” River said. “Now I’m getting excited.”

Nelson Churchill was stocking shelves in his store. It was a task that was much easier these days, due to the slump in sales. He would be worried about his future, had he not made a deal with that River girl last week to rent out the rest of his building. The rent he would get almost made his store more of a hobby, to keep himself busy, than a job. He glanced across the street and saw River walking back from the café. Then he froze as he saw who was with the girl. It was Connie, his ex-wife.

Nelson had never gone through the ‘hate’ stage with Connie as their marriage had collapsed nearly 20 years ago. In the years since he had dated a few times, but when he compared his new girlfriends with what he had lost, they always came up short. And Nelson was not one to settle for second best, after having had it all.

Their marriage failed for one major reason. They both dearly wanted children, and were unable to have them. The doctors had determined that there were reasons on both sides. Connie had feminine issues that made her unable to conceive, while Nelson had an abnormally low sperm count, to the point where it would be a miracle for him to succeed in impregnating anyone, no matter how fertile. The failure to have children had caused a rift in the pair. Nelson would have been happy to adopt, but Connie felt that adoption would have been an admission to all that she was unable to conceive.

That small wound festered, and over the seven years of their marriage it grew to the point where, when Connie was offered a transfer, the two split up. They never divorced, or even had a formal separation agreement. They never had gone through the normal ‘hatred stage’ that most break-ups have. In fact, as Nelson watched his ex-wife – no, he realized, she was still his wife – walk across the road with River, he realized he still loved her.

River opened the door to the store, and let Connie enter first. Then she nearly bumped into her new friend and future employee as the older woman froze in the middle of the door.

“Nelson,” Connie said.

“Connie,” Nelson replied. River edged around the frozen pair, and immediately saw the connection between them that still existed. For a long moment nothing was said, then Nelson continued. “I didn’t expect to see you up here. Again. Ever.”

“River here gets the blame,” Connie said lightly. She hadn’t seen Nelson in over 10 years, but he had aged well. A slight paunch, but nothing like most men getting close to 50. The grey in his hair was distinguished looking, and he still had a bit of summer tan. In short, he was just as hot in his forties as he had been in his twenties. “She has just offered me a job in her store here, and I have accepted. So you will see more of me in the future.”

“That is a good thing,” Nelson said. “I … I’ve missed you. A lot. Perhaps … do you think … well, would you go out with me again? For old times sake?”

“A date?” Connie barely blinked. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“Okay you two, tone it down in here. We have enough heat in the place right now. Connie, let Nelson take you over to his place and show you what he has done with it. I need to get a few more things done around here this morning, and then I want to take you both somewhere special. Be ready at noon.”

It was shortly after noon when Nelson pulled up his seven-year-old Lincoln at the banks of the river. He had not been on the reserve much, in spite of living and working within eyesight of it. It was not often that town people visited the reserve. Nelson helped River and Connie out of the car and River led them to the bank, and then to the amazement of the others, she waded into the river.

“Come on,” she said. “It will feel really, really cold for a few seconds, but then it will be okay.”

Connie shrieked a bit as Nelson helped her step into the water, and he shivered as he entered as well. “Oooh, that isn’t so bad,” Connie said as she warmed up a bit. They waded out after River, who was now in the center of the stream.

In the first few seconds that River had spent in the water she learned all about the Churchills, and how and why their marriage had failed. She also was told that she had done right by bringing them here, and that the river could help them. So it was with a smile that she told them to relax and enjoy the cleansing feeling that the river was providing.

After a few minutes of silence, Nelson took Connie’s hand, and she firmly grasped his. A few moments later, their heads neared, and Nelson kissed Connie. She eagerly embraced him, and reciprocated, kissing him deeply. Within seconds they were completely entwined with each other, and River looked the other way, rather than embarrass the pair, who were acting like young teenagers in love.

Many minutes later the river gave River a sign, and she turned. The pair were still at it, and completely missed the loud ‘ahem’ that River said. Finally she grabbed Nelson’s shoulder and physically pulled them apart.

“Sorry River,” Connie said when she regained her composure, “I don’t know what came over me … us.”

“The river will break down false barriers,” River said. “It has also been known to give out gifts. It has given you a great gift.”

“It has given me back my love,” Nelson acclaimed. “No gift could be greater than that.”

“Don’t be so sure,” River said as they waded over to the bank. “My parents were in the river for a half hour or so once, and they came out with each one looking 10 years younger. A similar gift has come to you.”

“We don’t look younger,” Connie said. “Not that Nelson doesn’t look just fine to me.”

“No, your bodies are no younger,” River said, “but certain parts of them are. You both have teenaged sex organs now. Perfectly healthy 19-year-old naughty bits. And by healthy, I mean that you will be able to conceive, Connie.”

The older woman gasped, and then a huge smile spread across her face.

“And Nelson, you are now completely fertile,” River said. “But there is only one stipulation. You will only be able to gain an erection with Connie, not other women.”

“What other women?” Nelson said. “Connie is the only woman for me.”

“Let’s go back to the stores,” River said. “I have helpers to organize, and I think you two might have other interests. Perhaps Nelson will want to close his store and take you back to his home, to show you around.

Tuesday morning, as usual, found River standing in the river long before the sun rose. She basked in the warmth and the knowledge that the river provided her. She learned that Connie and Nelson had resumed their marriage, and that Connie would live with Nelson when she relocated to St. Mary’s. What the couple did not know was that over the course of the intense evening they had spent together, Connie had been impregnated, and in nine months would give birth. To a healthy baby boy, the river claimed.

That day some of the craftspeople on the reserve started to bring in goods to the store, answering a call that River had made the prior day. River, and Connie who showed up at about 10:30 with a huge smile on her face, spent the day arranging the goods on the cleaned and freshly painted displays.

On Monday, Shelly was surprised that her arms didn’t ache from paddling the canoe upriver all day. The work was much less than expected, due to the river current reversing to propel the canoe as if it were going downriver. Still, the river did not expect its people to be lazy, and the girls and the Prophet all worked as hard as if they were going against the current, as they had expected. But Shelly was much less sore than she expected to be as she set up a tent with Marilyn.

The party had gained more than a day’s travel thanks to the river. They had passed the place that they planned to camp at on Tuesday in the early evening of Monday, and still went several hours past. They finally camped at dusk, and only had a few hours before they expected to reach the first reservation. Their four-day northbound was now looking to be a day and a half.

They ate a quiet dinner, and then split up into their respective tents. Shelly laid her sleeping bag out next to her older sister. “Do you feel tired?” she asked.

“A little,” Marilyn said. “But not nearly as much as I should. I’ve never paddled a canoe that hard for that long. It was what? Fourteen hours? My arms should feel like they are falling off, but they are fine.”

“Yeah, me too. Before we left River said that the river would nourish us. I wonder if that is what she meant. I mean, we did more work than competitive canoeists would in training, and still no aches. I like this river.”

“So do I,” Marilyn agreed. “Uh, do your breasts feel funny?”

“Funny? In what way?”

“Mine hurt, and are swollen. I don’t know why.”

“Your period?”

“Two weeks ago,” Marilyn said. “And it is like that, but ten times worse. My bra feels like it is a size too small now. It fit fine this morning.”

“Not fair,” Shelly protested. “You already have bigger boobs than me, and now they are getting bigger? Who do I complain to?”

“I don’t know, maybe the river. Do you think it might be doing this to me?”

“Well, it does give presents to people sometimes. Remember River’s parents, and the older people it made younger. Maybe your present is bigger boobs. Something to help you snare your lawyer, Nick.”

“Nick doesn’t mind,” Marilyn said. “He told me that his old girlfriend was quite small until she got him to pay for a boob job. He says he didn’t mind the smaller ones, but she felt insecure until she got the implants. He said he could feel them in there, and it kinda bothered him. He says he prefers natural, even if they are small.”

“Well, small isn’t your problem,” Shelly said. “Mine either. If the river wants to give me a present a twenty inch waist would be nice, and smaller hips.”

“Yeah, but Nick doesn’t seem to mind me being a little big,” Marilyn said. “He says he wants kids someday, and we both have ‘child-bearing’ hips, don’t we?”

“Oh yeah, big time. So you and Nick have talked about getting married? I didn’t think it had gone that far.”

“It hasn’t. It was more ‘I want kids’ and not ‘I want us to have kids’. You know, just talking,” Marilyn said, but then she choked up and added: “But Shel, I want him so much. He is just perfect. Kind, gentle … and when we kiss it is like an explosion going off in my head. In a good way.”

“Wow, you really are into the guy,” Shelly said. “And your description left out handsome and rich. He is probably the best catch any girl from the reserve could get. Do you think he feels the same way about you?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know. I know he likes me. We went out for drives every night for the past few nights. Just kissing and stuff, although I guess he knows that I don’t have implants.” She giggled. “We talked a lot, and he kept asking me back. But I don’t know if he loves me, or just likes me. It’s driving me crazy.”

“I think he really is into you,” Shelly offered.

“Oh I hope so,” her sister replied. “I’m worried that this trip might just mess things up for us. I mean, if I come back and find someone else on his arm I will just about die. Except maybe River. I’d still want to die for losing him, but she is so special I could see her landing him.”

“River?” Shelly snorted. “She is way too young for him. I mean, it would probably be against the law for him to come on to her. She is only 14, I think. Plus, I think that Wayne and her have something going.”

“You are right. I keep forgetting how young she is. She is so mature, and shows so much leadership. I keep thinking she is in her 20s. Remember how she overruled both of her parents when we met at the Sault? She just told them that they were bringing us back, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh, thank God she did,” Shelly said. “I mean, what if we hadn’t met her back there? Our lives were so shitty, and now they are so much better. It was so lucky.”

“Not luck, Shelly. I’m pretty sure that the river had something to do with it. It wanted us back, and made sure that it happened.”

That's more like it. Another chapter within a week, and one more is at the editors. Another is half done, so we should be able to get it to you guys shortly.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 21

So far: things are moving along nicely. Alison and Mark are on the road north again, now permanently, with Nick escorting them. River has seen another couple given a special treat by the river, as her store starts to come together. And the expedition north is days ahead of schedule.

Connie called in sick on Thursday, her third day in a row. “Lovesick,” she joked to River, as they worked setting up the store. She planned to drive back to Sault on Friday and hand in her notice. A fourth consecutive day of absence would require a medical certificate. She would give two weeks notice, and be back at the store full time after that. Meanwhile, she was busy setting up systems and training the women from the reserve who had volunteered to staff the store. River was glad of the assistance. Neither River, nor the river, had the knowledge of retailing that Connie had.

Nelson hung around a lot when his agency had no customers, and River even put him to work. He was eager to do anything, particularly when it meant he could be close to the love of his life. He seemed to be a changed man. River had thought he was rather dour when she had first met him, but now he seemed cheerful and jovial. His customers noted it as well. Once River was close to the agency, hanging a display of dreamcatchers on the wall, when she heard a male customer note that ‘getting lucky’ seemed to have improved his disposition. River couldn’t see Nelson’s face at the comment, but surmised from his silence that he must have gotten red faced.

Nelson even suggested that the agency not be a separate store, but just a department in the larger store, but Nick shot that one down after he returned. The liquor act stated that alcohol could only be sold in a separate building that was inaccessible to people under the age of 19. However there were no rules against having a door between the stores, and Nelson and Connie made good use of it, taking their breaks and meals together, usually in the agency, where Nelson could look after any patrons that came in.

Connie also did some advising for Nelson over the coming weeks. She suggested that he add a smoke shop to the inventory of the store, including specialty items like fine cigars and American imported cigarettes. They didn’t bother adding conventional cigarettes. Although the rate of smokers was high amongst the First Nations people, cigarettes were tax-free across the road on the reserve shop at the gas station, killing sales anywhere taxes had to be charged. Tobacco was not even sold in the general store. But Connie’s idea worked, and the specialty items sold modestly, and added to Nelson’s reduced sales volume.

Where her ideas worked best was in fine wines. Connie recommended that Nelson add a selection of fine wines to his inventory, and he sold these over the Internet on a page that Colin RedHawk put together for him. These sold well across Ontario, and with Nick’s help he was able to maneuver around the legal roadblocks to selling in other provinces and exporting to the United States. A few of the First Nations people became enamored of the wines, buying quality instead of quantity in their liquor purchases, and the townspeople of St. Mary’s and Terrace Bay started coming into the shop at a greater rate. Sales were still down, but the store was becoming a thriving boutique operation rather than a ‘booze can’ aimed at the First Nations people.

After lunch on Thursday Alison, Nick and Mark returned to town. They stopped first at the store, which was now totally transformed from a derelict building into a clean, modern looking shop, only lacking the sign that Carl Bluelake was nearly done preparing. River practically leapt into her mother’s arms when she entered the store, but was set aback a bit by her brother, who now was bigger than she was for the first time in their lives.

Nick entered soon after, and saw Liesl working on a display, and went to talk to her, hoping for word about her sister Marilyn. The Waters all got into the van and headed to the housing site to find Dale for a more complete reunion, and to take a look at the house that would soon be theirs. Dale announced that a completion date of October 1 now seemed likely, and the kids ran about trying to decide which of the five bedrooms would be theirs. Finally River wanted to take them all to the river, feeling that Alison and Mark would need help after their hardships in Toronto.

At the river, the four all entered the water together. River held her mother close first, and the river showed her what Alison had gone through in the bank tower. River was incensed by the actions of the bank employees, who clearly had conspired against Alison. The river told them to ignore the perpetrators, promising that they would eventually pay for what they tried to do to Alison, and had clearly done to others. Alison was content to leave the payback to the river, although she still intended to have Nick work to get her a fair settlement.

River let her mother go, and she moved over to her husband for solace while River approached her bother.

“You are so big,” she noted.

“Yeah. You can’t call me ‘little brother’ any more,” Mark said proudly.

“Come here,” River said, “or are you too big to give your sister a hug?”

Mark gladly moved into the arms of his sister, and let her lean her head on his shoulder for the first time. As they embraced, the river again showed River the story of his experiences in Toronto: first at the mall, and then later at the police station. As River saw the story, the river also calmed the event for the boy, making it seem that he was reliving it with a skilled therapist, and stopping any post-traumatic stress disorder effects that might otherwise occur.

“I guess I have to get ahold of Lisa Stromen,” River finally said. “I had kinda forgotten about her.”

“Something tells me she isn’t going to believe you when you tell her what you look like now,” Mark said with a smirk.

“Yeah. I guess I will tell her that I am transgendered, and will be living as a girl up here.”

“That might work. She seemed to accept that I was bigger than the little 10-year-old she used to know, although I wasn’t this big until after the jail. How did this growing thing happen anyway?”

The river flowed the information to both of them at the same time. Both the mall and the police station, although several miles apart, sat over a buried river that had been named Taddle Creek in the old days. As development of the city encroached, and then overran the stream, it was buried. But it continued to run in conduits as a part of the city’s storm drainage system. This left the river close enough to provide Mark with a boost in both strength and size when he needed it. The size remained, but the super-human strength had been temporary, and would only occur when Mark was close to flowing water. Not just the river, but any water that was connected to the river no matter how distant.

That is any water on the planet, then? River asked.

Pretty much, the river replied. There are some stagnant waters I can’t get to, and a few other things. Mark still is strong for a boy his size, let alone his age, but he can’t expect to throw adults 20 feet at will, without my help. He should rely on his size and the fighting techniques I have taught him.

“Wow,” Mark said. “That is way cool.” River realized for the first time that he could also hear the voice of the river.

Also Mark, the river continued. I have a task for you. Your sister is the Rivertalker, and leader of the people. Rod is the prophet, and is responsible for spreading her word to the other bands of the people. And you will be the protector. Your task is to protect the people. You will be their guardian, and will look after the people. When you are an adult, I will have you seek to redress the big problem of dealing with the men who prey after the women of the people. Some white men feel that it is okay to use a woman of the people sexually, and then kill her. Hundreds of unsolved deaths exist, and the white police seem unable or unwilling to solve these crimes. This will be your task when you come of age.

“But not yet,” River argued. “He is big, but still a little boy. Only 10.”

He is young in years, but not in size, and no longer in maturity. His mission will not start for another six or eight years. But until then, he is still guardian. His mission for these years will be to protect the people, and others, from those who would be bullies or aggressive towards others. His mission is to help each and every person he can, whenever he can.

“I accept this mission,” Mark vowed.

On the ride back to the camp site River noted her mother holding her father’s hand as he drove with the other hand.

“Do you feel better now?” she asked.

“Yes I do, honey,” Alison said. “That river of yours is the best therapist in the world. I didn’t realize how much hate I had for those people in Toronto, but now, knowing the river will take care of them, I really don’t even think about it. I’m just anxious to get the house down there sold, and everything moved up here so we can get on with our lives. This is such a great place to live, and grow up, and to raise a family.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get the bank branch,” River said. “What will you do? Work for Dad?”

“No honey,” Alison said. “Nick and I talked a lot about this on the way back home, and we have decided to look into starting a credit union for the town. It will provide all the banking services that a bank branch would, but will be much easier to start up. We will have to have meetings with the band officials, and people from the community, but I think there is a good chance we can get something going. Would you have a corner left in your store where we could locate a small branch? We would need room for two teller positions and a private office.”

“Wow,” River said. “We would love to have you in the store. I’d have to talk to Connie about it. We have pretty much allocated all the space in the store to product, but maybe we can move some things around.”

“What about the corner where the storeroom and offices are?” Dale suggested. “They don’t need the high ceilings that the rest of the store has. You could double up, and move the store management offices onto a second floor, and have the credit union on the same space on the ground floor. That way Connie’s office would look over the entire store from above.”

River instantly saw what he was saying, and could visualize it perfectly. “That would be perfect,” she said. “I’ll still need to run it by Connie, but I don’t see how she could object.”

“And we still have a lot of work to do before we even know that a credit union is possible,” Alison said. “That will be my job, starting next week. Tomorrow I have to see about getting the two of you registered for school.”

River was registered for school Friday morning. The only possible roadblock was that all her records were for Ricky, a male. River, a female, would be attending the high school. Nick accompanied Alison to the meeting with the high school principal, and eased the situation by noting that the school board had an established policy on transgendered students, implying that this applied to River. The principal attempted to exclude River from physical education and any activities that would involve changing rooms, but Nick quickly pointed out that River was completely female in all respects, and no such restrictions would be required. The principal wavered, and then agreed to drop the restrictions, on submission of a letter from a doctor or medical official.

The afternoon session in Terrace Bay was not as simple. The situation in schools was that the high school was in St. Mary’s, with the students from Terrace Bay bused in, while for the middle school, the students from St. Mary’s and the reserve were bused there. Each town had a primary school for kindergarten to grade four attached to the other schools. Mark, starting grade five, would go to Terrace Bay on the bus.

But at Terrace Bay the principal of the middle school was surprised when her appointment to register a grade five student saw a woman who looked to be 25, a slightly older man, and a boy who looked to be ready for grade 10. Cindy Karsen, principal, listened as the man, who turned out to be a lawyer and not the father or brother of the boy, explained the situation without getting into magical transformations by the river. It was simply expressed that Mark was very large for his age, but was ready for Grade 5, having finished Grade 4 in Toronto the year before.

Ms. Karsen immediately read into the story. She assumed that the boy had been a troublemaker in Toronto and the family was moving north to avoid his reputation. She pressed hard for an assessment of Mark’s abilities, expecting that he would fall short of the standards for Grade 5, and she might be able to shift the problem to the primary school in St. Mary’s.

Nick objected to the assessments, mainly because there was no cause for them, but Alison agreed, and Mark spent the next two hours writing half hour tests in English, Math, Science and French. A half hour after that, Ms. Karsen reconvened after marking the assessments.

“I am astonished at Mark’s abilities in English,” she said. “He is easily at a high school level in that subject. I wish his other subjects were as good, since then we could let him into high school, where his size would not be so much of a … distraction. But his math results are only slightly ahead of a grade five level, not more than grade six at best. Science is about the same, and his French is somewhat behind. Perhaps we could register him in Grade 6?” she asked questioningly.

“So rather than a good Grade 5 student, you want to make him into a struggling Grade 6?” Alison asked. “Can you explain the benefits of that?”

“Well, his size …”

“Would also stand out in Grade 6, wouldn’t it?” Nick finished her sentence.

“Yes, I suppose it would. You see, we have had a problem in the past with bullying in the school,” Ms Karsen explained. “We don’t want to see that problem expanded.”

“Well I don’t think we have to worry about anyone bullying Mark,” Alison said confidently.

“No, I was suggesting it might be the other way around,” the principal said meekly.

“Are you accusing Mark of being a bully?” Nick nearly shouted. “You have been with him for less than three hours. What has led you to this conclusion?”

The principal was cowed by the outburst. “Well, his size, of course. He really should be with students his own … size. That is why we seldom hold back students any more. And the fact that he has left Toronto and come north to … an Indian Reservation: it just doesn’t feel right.”

“It certainly doesn’t feel right,” Nick said. “Your apparent prejudice to First Nations peoples is clear, in spite of having them as a third of your student body. I am a proud Ojibwe man, and I have to say that your use of the term ‘Indian’ for our people offends me greatly, not to mention the suggestion that our homeland is a refuge for the misfits of your white society.”

Ms. Karsen cringed. This was going from bad to worse. As soon as she had said the word ‘Indian’ she knew she had misspoke. Her sensitivity training in dealing with First Nations issues had stressed that repeatedly. “I apologize, Mr Summerstorm,” she said contritely. “I misspoke, and should have used the proper term ‘First Nations’. As you mention, many of our students are from the reservation, and I feel they add a great cultural diversity to the school. And I certainly did not intend to suggest that your lands are in any way a refuge or are in any way less important than the towns and communities that the school serves. As you suggest, I have been hasty in prejudging your son … I mean client, in any way. We will start the paperwork immediately to get him enrolled to our school for September. Welcome Mark.” She held out his hand, and was impressed by the way that he politely shook it.

Nevertheless, as the trio left her office Ms. Karsen decided to call down to Mark’s old school and find out if the boy had been a discipline problem there, as well as requesting his transcripts.

While Mark was undertaking his ordeal in Terrace Bay, River had one of her own to deal with in St. Mary’s. She went to the hospital to get a letter from the doctor to attest to her femaleness for the high school. She wasn’t looking forward to the examination, but it was something that needed to be done.

At the hospital she saw Desmond Kraud, the administrator, at the front counter and he greeted her in a friendly way. “Our first prenatal clinic for the reserve ladies was held last night, and eleven showed up,” he said enthusiastically, “And tomorrow we are planning a diabetes clinic, with nearly 20 pre-registered. These things really will help us keep our numbers up. What can we do for you today?”

“I need to talk to the doctor,” River said tentatively. “Female problems.”

“Oh dear,” Desmond replied. “Dr. Mitchell is off for a few days. He had to go to Sault for a medical issue of his own. I expect him back today, but is this something that our nurse practitioner can help with?”

“Oh yes, that would be much better,” River said, relieved that it would be a woman who did the examination. She sat in the waiting room for only a few moments before a large woman of about 40 came for her.

“River Waters,” she asked, and led River into the examination room. “What can I do for you? I am not a doctor, but a nurse practitioner. There are some things I can’t handle that will have to wait for a doctor, when we get one, or you could go to the doctor in Terrace Bay.”

“I just need a letter for the school,” River explained. “I was born a boy, but I am a girl now, and the school needs a letter to testify that I don’t have any boy bits. Can you do that?”

“Oh certainly,” the jovial nurse said. “Let me just take a look.”

During the examination the nurse muttered a bit, and finally sat back up, telling River to cover up. “I’ve never dealt with a transsexual before,” she admitted, “but I swear that you are completely female down there. Who did your operation?”

“Well, there really wasn’t an operation,” River said tentatively. “I guess it was more that I was always a girl, but everyone just thought I was a boy. I do have periods and such now.”

“Well, as far as I know that is a sure sign that you are totally female,” the nurse said as River got dressed again. “I’ll write a letter to that effect if it will help.”

“No, just one saying that there are no traces of maleness visible,” River said. It would be best if the school thought she was a transsexual rather than investigating with her old school. “Earlier you spoke as if there was no doctor here. What happened to Dr. Mitchell?”

“Oh. I probably shouldn’t have said that,” the nurse said. “But he is in Sault right now at the regional hospital talking with cancer specialists. He had several biopsies done, and should get the results today. I pray to God that they are negative, but I really don’t hold up much hope. I’ve seen cancer onset before, and he shows all the symptoms. I’m just hoping that it is treatable.”

River just listened, amazed at how much personal information about the doctor the gossipy nurse was spreading. She wondered how much the woman would say about her situation. She resolved to wait for the doctor in the future.

River was leaving the hospital when she saw Dr. Mitchell enter. The man looked to be a shell of the man she had recently had run-ins with. He looked 15 years older, wan and exhausted-looking. Desmond was still in the waiting room, and the two men spoke without noticing River’s presence.

“How did it go?” Desmond asked.

“Bad,” the doctor said. “All three biopsies were positive. Liver, kidneys and prostate. Any one of them could kill me. Not even a chance chemo will work. You better start looking for a new doctor.”

“No,” River said, causing the two men to notice her. “You need to come with me to the river.”

“Your medicine man treatments can’t help me, dear,” the doctor said sadly. “I’m too far gone.”

“Don’t quit on me,” River said. “The river can’t hurt you. I don’t know if it can cure you or not, but at least it can cut down on the pain. Is it painful?”

“Very,” Dr. Mitchell said. “I couldn’t take the painkillers while I was driving back, so it is really pretty intense right now.”

“Then we need to get you to the river right now,” River said. Turning to Desmond: “Can you drive us?”

Thus they were at the river 10 minutes later. The doctor was complaining about the pain, and begging to go home so he could take some of the painkillers he had brought from the Sault. River insisted that he spend at least a few minutes in the water, and the weakened man agreed.

Once the two of them were in the river, the doctor stopped complaining. The pain disappeared almost immediately, and he attributed it to the freezing water. Except that the water around them didn’t seem that cold. Over the next hour the doctor felt that he was going through delirium. At one point River held him in her arms, and sang to him and he felt that he was back in the arms of his deceased mother, a child safe from all harm. Other times he felt he was a young man again, strong and virile, and ready to take on the world. Finally he came out of it and looked at the young girl standing next to him. She spoke: “It is finished. Everything is gone. Let’s go back to town.”

“It can’t be gone,” the doctor said as they climbed up the riverbank. “I saw the biopsy results myself. The cancer is malignant and extensive. It has probably spread to other organs that we didn’t check.”

“How do you feel now?” River asked.

The doctor paused a bit, then spoke slowly. “Better. I don’t feel any pain at all. It must have been the cold water. The pain will probably return when my core temperature returns to normal.”

“Well you certainly look better,” Desmond said. “You looked like an old man going into the river, but now you look like yourself again.”

River looked closely at the doctor. The river had not made him any younger, but the cancer had made him look older than his 58 years. Now he looked that age again. She knew that the cancer was gone, but didn’t want to argue with the man. They drove back to town in silence, parking at the hospital.

“Do you want me to take you home, Fred?” Desmond asked.

“No, I think I will putter around a bit in here,” the doctor replied. “I want to send to the hospital in Sault and get them to send up my biopsy results. I need to look at them again.”

“I’m going to just head down to the store,” River said, leaving the two men, smiling.

Sorry this has taken so long to post. I have had computer problems. See my blog for details.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 22

So far: the river has cured the doctor of cancer, although he won’t admit it yet. Progress in getting a bank branch for the town has taken a different tack, with the possibility of a credit union managed by Alison. Both of Alison’s children are registered for school in September, although not without problems.

On Friday many of the townspeople were standing outside of Red Door First Nations Arts and Crafts, as the new store was named, and that name was now clear for all to see. Carl Bluelake had finished painting the store sign that was being erected by some volunteers from the reserve. River was ecstatic about the design, which was clear and readable by anyone speeding past on the highway, yet had a First Nations motif that spoke to the culture of the people of the river.

And while most of the people were concentrating on the signage, another crew worked in the vacant lot next to the store. Kyle Audette was erecting his homage to Rube Goldberg that he had been working on for the past week or more, and lately he had spent nearly 20 hours a day on it while his girlfriend George was in California to install the machine-parts totem pole that had caused such a buzz on the Internet last week. It alone had made their website famous, and was still drawing sales of the other more mundane items the store was selling. The store was not yet officially open, although almost everyone in town had been inside by now, either volunteering to help, or just dropping in to snoop, but online sales were already over the $1000 mark.

Kyle explained his invention. “The three bicycles in the front power the whole thing,” he said, pointing to bikes of different size, from beginners to adult that were fixed in front with rear wheels raised off the ground to power pulleys. “The bikes are geared differently, so a child on the smallest bike has an advantage over Dad on the full size bike,” he explained. “Pedaling as fast as possible makes these chains at the back turn these wheels, which make the billiard balls rise up inside the machine. The faster you pedal, the faster your ball gets to the top.”

“Once the balls hit the top then chance takes over. There are 15 different places where random options come into play, and George said that there would be over 30,000 different ways the balls could go through the system. Sometimes they get stuck, and you have to get back on the bikes again to raise another ball up to the top to dislodge your first one … although you never know, it might wind up helping the ball of one of your competitors. Want to try? I’ll race you.”

“Sure,” River said. “Let’s get all three bikes going.” She looked around and then saw who she wanted. “Liesl? Do you want to try?”

“Do I?” the girl said, bursting with pride at being the first in the town to try the new device. She hopped on the smallest bike, River got on the second one, and Kyle got on the adult one, and when River said ‘Go’ they all started to pedal.

Liesl used the advantage of youth, not to mention the gear differential, and had her ball up to the top of the machine in about two minutes. Kyle was about 15 seconds later, and River’s was last, but only by a few seconds. Then they watched the balls start to work their way down the machine, triggering different switches and devices as they went in true Goldberg fashion. The race was not a given. Even with her long head start, Liesl’s ball went off into a weird area like a bowling alley, and had to run along the alley three times before it had knocked all the pins over and it could continue to run the course. At that point, it looked like River would win, having caught up with Kyle soon into the course. But then her ball stopped dead. Suddenly one of those ‘perpetual motion’ drinking bird toys came into play. Every time it bent over to sip on the water a tiny gear raised a barrier a fraction of an inch, finally letting the billiard ball proceed to the end of the course. When it did, there was a huge cheer, and River turned to see that most of the town was arranged behind them, watching the race.

Liesl eventually won, with River just beating out Kyle, who jokingly insisted that he needed to make some modifications to the game so that the inventor would always win. The entire game had taken just over five minutes to play.

“Can I go again, River?” Liesl begged.

“Rule the first:” River intoned officially. “He or she who wins the race gets to go a second time against new racers. But only once. After that it is back to the end of the line to wait until the machine is free again. Who else wants to try?”

Almost every hand in the crowd went up, and River picked two townspeople to try against Liesl, since the first game had been all reserve people. Others formed into three lines to take turns after.

River turned to Kyle, and spoke with him as the next race started. “This is great Kyle. I have no doubt that it will eventually stop being so popular with the locals, but it will be perfect for people travelling through. Different sized bikes were a stroke of genius. It means that a little kid will have a chance against an older sibling. And the adult bike means that even parents can get into the action. Riding a bike for a couple minutes like that is a great exercise for someone who is driving a car for eight or more hours straight. This thing is going to make St. Mary’s a must-stop location on the trip across the lake. And hopefully a lot of those people will come into our store and buy something, or go somewhere else in town.”

As she talked, River found herself watching the second race. It was addicting: the true mark of a successful Goldberg device. Liesl lost to the town teenager this time, and gladly gave up her seat to another child who had gotten into that line. The second line didn’t move, since the teen took his right to play a second time, and those waiting to play realized that they needed to cheer for the people on the bikes for the other lines, since they would move the line faster if the person in their line lost. This added a whole new dimension of interest for those in line, as they cheered on the other players.

River watched three more games, and as Kyle said, each time the games played differently, as promised. She finally had to pull herself away, and head into the store. Connie was away today, and would be for the next two weeks, so River would have to stay close to the shop, which was just now starting to have a few pre-grand opening sales, although the store sales were a small fraction of the online proceeds.

“Thanks again, Kyle. Now we just need to decide how much that thing costs. How many hours of work went into it?”

“No River,” Kyle said. “George and I discussed this, and we decided that this would be our gift to the town. We made so much money on the totem we don’t know what to do with it all, so this is a freebie for the town.”

“That is so sweet of you,” River said. “But I do want to know how much it was. Someone else might want to buy one.”

“It took 100 hours,” Kyle said. “George did a lot of work on it before she left, and I’ve been at it steady since you visited.”

“So $15,000, at a shop rate of $150,” River mused. “It is worth a lot more. Your weird inventiveness isn’t something that can be billed out like a machine. Let’s say $40,000 if someone wants another one. Okay?”

“Wow. Yeah, sure. I’d love to make those things full time. They are as much fun to build as they are to play. The hardest part was deciding when to finish. I kept coming up with new features to add. The fact you were raising the sign today gave me a deadline to work towards. The one thing I can promise is that no two machines will ever be the same.”

“And I will promise that we won’t sell any more to places along the TransCanada Highway. At least not for a couple hundred miles either direction from here. I kinda like the idea that we only sell them to smaller towns like ours, which need a tourism boost. No big cities, and no WalMarts or the like,” River suggested.

Just then April Audette rushed up. “Look River,” she said, holding up her camera. A video started to play in the viewfinder and River saw herself, Liesl and Kyle on the bikes. They were pedaling like mad until Liesl’s ball rose to the top, when the video showed the path her ball took down to the bottom.

“I should have had three cameras going,” April said. “One tracking each of the balls, and possibly a fourth one looking at crowd reactions and stuff. I did get shots of the next few games, though, and I can edit them together to make it look like just one game. I thought it would be good for the webpage.”

“It sure will,” River said. “You are a great Chronicler for the people. After you get it edited the way you like it, get it to Colin and have him post it.”

That evening the video went onto YouTube, and over the weekend it went viral, hitting several million views a day. The video led people to the store website, and the result was that on Monday morning there were hundreds of orders for the staff to process.

Royal VP, Assistant Missing

Toronto (CP) – A vice president and an assistant from the Royal Bank headquarters are missing after a boating excursion on Lake Ontario yesterday.

Hanson Langston, Vice President of branch operations for the bank, and his administrative assistant left Toronto Marina at 7 a.m. headed out onto the lake for a short excursion. Marina staff were told to expect them back by noon.

An aerial search of the lake was commenced shortly after 5 p.m., but found no traces of the boat before dark. The water was calm all afternoon, with waves under a foot and most other boaters described the water as being “like glass.”

The weather station at Pearson Airport said that radar records showed a small anomaly at mid-lake at about 8:05 a.m., similar to a waterspout. This anomaly was considered to be a false reading, due to its short duration and the otherwise ideal boating conditions.

Also on the boat was Lois Macintyre, Langston’s executive assistant.

Alison handed Nick his tablet, which had carried the story on the website of one of the Toronto newspaper’s. “So the river seems to have completed its promise to settle the matter for us. How will this affect my settlement?”

“I learned of this when I was talking to the bank legal people this morning,” Nick said. “The story just got posted though. They seemed to think that we would just let everything go as a result. I let them know that we were proceeding with the full $5-million lawsuit. I’ll settle for a million before it goes to court: they still won’t want the tarnish on their reputation that will come from a trial. It will take a week or two before they come back with an offer, I suspect.”

“What about the police and Mark’s case?” Alison said.

“Oh, I wish you would let me run free on this one. I’ve already notified them that we expect a $15-million false arrest settlement, and that would be easy to get. Are you sure that you won’t let me proceed on it?”

“Yes, in the car on the way back Mark was pretty adamant that we don’t do anything to harm Inspector O’Rourke. He says the man was fair, honest, and completely blameless in the affair. It is Constable Orange that caused most of the problems. And his son.”

“Well, the son is either in jail now, or will be soon. The father is also locked up, since he mouthed off to the judge at his bail hearing. He found out that the courts do not give police officers a free ride just for being police,” Nick said. “I’ll keep the lawsuit open until the police give us what we want, and then we will drop it.”

Acting Inspector Ron O’Rourke was expecting this call. He had just been notified that he had a meeting at 3:00 p.m. with Police Chief Richard Bendeleve. This would be where the mess Const. Orange had made of the affair with the boys last week would cost him his job, or at least his chance of becoming an inspector. The only question seemed to be whether he would be broken back down to assistant inspector, detective, or right back to patrolman. Word had gone through the division like wildfire yesterday that a lawsuit of $15-million had been laid against the department.

The clock hit 3:07 before O’Rourke was ushered in to see the chief, not a good sign. However the man was smiling, or at least not angry.

“You have heard that we were served with a major lawsuit yesterday, I assume,” the chief said.

“Yes sir.”

“You know that we don’t really have a leg to stand on in our defense,” the chief continued. “They might settle for $5-million, or eight, but my budget can’t afford that kind of hit. That is a lot of cruisers and equipment, or some jobs. The city isn’t going to bail us out when news gets out of what happened to that kid.”

So that was it, Ron thought. It is over. “I will resign if you think it will help,” he offered.

“No it won’t,” the chief snapped. “I was speaking to the boy’s lawyer this morning, and he gave out conditions we have to meet to mitigate the lawsuit. 1) they insist that Constable Orange be relieved of his duties as soon as possible. Apparently he is not loved by the union any more than by us, and they won’t fight it. The fact he is sitting in a jail cell right now makes that easier.”

“Yes sir.”

“2) that the police department clear all records of Mark Waters from the division and force in general. It will be as if he was never arrested. 3) the department will give a personal statement of apology to Mark Waters once the other two items are disposed of. And the lawyer was adamant that the apology be given by Inspector Ronald O’Rourke of 32 division.”

“Wait. What?” Ron tried to process the last bit. “Does this mean I get to stay as acting inspector?”

“I’m afraid not, Ron,” the chief said. “What it means is that before that time your role will change to full Inspector, not acting. The lawyer fellow up north seemed to think that you were the one person on the force who was on the ball on this entire episode. Congratulations. I’ve already started the ball rolling on your confirmation, and you should be fully listed as inspector by this time next week.”

“That is great. How much did they lower their demands by?”

“All the way to zero. If we make all those things happen, they will drop the suit entirely. You will issue the official apology, but I insist on being there when you do it. I want to meet this kid. His lawyer was pretty clear that it was at his insistence that you not lose your job over this.”

Ron stifled back a sob. “He is a special kid. He could have been set for life. He said he was only in grade five, so it will be a few years away, but I’m going to start a scholarship fund to cover his university costs when he gets there.”

“Consider that the force will match everything you put into the fund. A few thousand dollars instead of millions is a bargain. And I bet you can get him into one of the union scholarship programs. Maybe we will be lucky and he will have an interest in law enforcement. It would be kinda cool if he was to wind up in one of our uniforms one day.”

Rod was happy with the performance. He had never sounded so eloquent as he had in telling the people of Stone Ledge about their heritage and history. The river was small and shallow here, less than knee high, and only about 100 people at a time would be able to enter the water. Therefore he had done two talks, one for the elders, and another more passionate one for the young people of the reserve. After all, one part of River’s mission for him was to connect with the young people and let them know that they had a future.

Afterwards, he met many of those young people, and was astonished at how they hung on his every word. There were about 30 who had already signed up to travel away for high school, mostly to Thunder Bay, Sault, or Sudbury, but three all the way to Ottawa. Many expressed interest in changing their location to St. Mary’s, and Rod told about the town and all the new things that were happening there. One girl asked if it would be possible to change their plans, and make St. Mary’s their destination, and several others nodded in agreement.

“I really don’t know the answer to that,” Rod said. “You should ask your teacher from last year. She would know.” The reserve had a two-room school for students from Grades 1 to 8 in split classes. It appeared that most of the grade nine students wanted to switch to St. Mary’s, while the older students were split, with a few interested in changing, while most wanted to continue at the high schools they had already attended.

After the ceremonies in the river, and the lengthy meet-and-greet that followed on the riverbanks, the people of Stone Ledge retired to prepare a feast for their visitors. Ria, Marilyn and Shelly had sung beautifully, and as local boys erected their tents for them Shelly commented: “I feel like a rock star. Everyone is treating us as if we are something special. I think at least 20 people were begging for us to stay at their homes. Luckily we had planned on sleeping in the tents: it made it easier to turn people down.”

“It also means that we will be able to pack up and leave early in the morning. I had planned three days to walk to Ice Springs, but the elders say it can be done in two days. Especially since some of the boys have asked to join us and carry our gear. We will leave the canoes here, and anything we don’t need, like dirty clothes and the like. The trail is good and we should be able to walk in before dusk on Thursday. There is no road to Ice Springs, everything normally comes in by air. Or foot, like we are doing.”

“It must be a small place,” Marilyn noted.

“Yeah, fewer than a hundred people I think. Less than half the size of this place. But they are of the people, and we need to sing and talk to them too.”

“Well I like doing this,” Shelly said. “Compared to what I was doing a month ago … I mean, then I was treated like dirt, but here people respect and admire us.”

The walk to Ice Springs was hard, and the river was not able to help as much as it did canoeing to Stone Ledge. When Rod or the girls got tired, they found wading in the inches-deep water would restore them, so they often waded from one side of the river to the other. The young boys along with them were amazed at how wading in the river could restore them. Normally it was too cold to wade in, although all of them had stood in the water for over an hour to listen to Rod talk on Tuesday night.

They spent Friday in Ice Springs, and discovered that there were only nine high school students there. Two others, who had dropped out were inspired by Rod’s story to go back to school, and in the end seven of the 11 were interested in transferring to St. Mary’s. The other four all promised to make a pilgrimage to the river at some point over the next year. The plane into the reserve was from Terrace Bay’s airstrip, so they thought they might be able to make a side trip to the river. Most of the adults also promised to make a trip to the river when they could, although for many leaving their reserve was something that only happened every few years.

The other part of River’s reasons for the trip was to find out about skills that the local members had that might help fill the shelves of the new store, and several were identified. There were no canoe builders since the river up here was not navigable, but two were skilled at building dogsleds, and three more did snowshoes. Most of the women did Makizins, and one was very skilled in beadwork for ceremonial dancewear. Rod and the girls gathered samples to take back to River.

The trip back to Stone Ledge took all of Saturday and Sunday, and the small group was happy to be back in the lands that the boys recognized again, meaning they were close to the reservation. About a mile out, Shelly crested a hill and froze. About 300 feet in front of her she could see the body of a young girl, hanging on a rope from a tree. Shelly screamed, drawing the attention of Rod and the others. Then they noticed that the girl was twitching. She was still alive. All bags were dropped, and they ran towards the girl.

Finally, I get back to a weekly schedule. And the next chapter is more than half finished (it might be a double chapter).

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 23

So far: Kyle’s Rube Goldberg invention is a huge hit, Alison’s tormentors are punished, and Mark makes a new friend in the Toronto police force. Finally, the northern expedition is a huge success … until they return to Stone Ledge.

Rod reached the tree first, and Ria was amazed when he seemed to run up the trunk in a display that was equal to those parkour moves she had seen on the Internet. But Rod had never before done anything like that, nor had he even been that athletic. But within a few seconds he was lying along the branch that the rope was attached to, and had his knife out, trying to cut through the rope. By then the two boys had reached the tree, and were standing on either side of the girl, planning to catch her when the rope broke.

“It’s Ginny Audette,” the one boy said.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen her for months. I heard that she got sick or something, and she didn’t finish the term. She was in my class,” the other said, and then the rope parted and the two boys lowered the girl to the ground.

This left Rod up a tree, literally. The adrenaline that had got him up was gone, and he slowly inched his way back to the trunk, and then slowly made his way down, jumping the last eight feet or so. When he was down, he saw that the others had left, and the two boys, and Ria and Shelly were carrying the girl to the river, urged on by Marilyn.

When he caught up to them the girl was lying three-quarters in the water, with her head on the bank. Marilyn was fully in the river, kneeling at the girls’ feet. She looked up to Rod and somberly announced. “She is dead. We weren’t in time.”

“But we saw her moving,” Rod insisted.

“She was pregnant,” Marilyn said. “Six or seven months, I would say. And the reason she was moving is … this.” She scooped her hands into the water and pulled up a tiny baby, unbreathing. She rapped on the infant’s back and suddenly it started to cry weakly.

Rod jumped into the water and used his knife to cut the umbilical cord connected to the body. He felt knowledge about how to do it flow into his mind from the river, and this led him to tie off the remaining cord professionally. Then he was amazed to see that Marilyn had pulled up her top and bra, and offered her breast to the child. And astonishingly, the tiny child started to suckle, slowly at first, and then faster.

Rod looked away. Marilyn’s back was to the bank, but the boys were still staring, aware of what was happening even though they couldn’t see much. “You boys head back to the reserve, and let people know what has happened. One of you go to her parents’ home first. I’ll go pick up the bags, if that is all right.” He directed the last statement to Marilyn.

Marilyn nodded thankfully. She was more comfortable with only Ria and her sister with her.

“He is so tiny,” Shelly gushed as she watched the premature baby nurse. She reached around and unsnapped the bra from Marilyn’s neck, and was able to help her take it off with only a few seconds interruption of the nursing.

“Thanks,” Marilyn said. “And it is a she, not a he. She is way premature, and normally couldn’t survive outside of a big hospital. But the river is helping. I can feel its power flow through my body and to her through my breasts. I can feel her tiny, undeveloped organs being completed.”

“This is why your boobs were sore the other day,” Shelly said in realization.

“Yes, I think so,” Marilyn said. She remained kneeling in the river as people started running in from the reserve. The body was identified as Ginny Audette, the only daughter of a couple who weren’t yet there. Several of the women gathered up the body and brought in up on the bank some distance from the river. Many were crying.

Rod came back, and Ria went up to him. “I failed,” he said miserably. “My mission was to cut down on teen suicides and the first reserve I go to, there is a suicide days later. Some Prophet I am.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Ria tried to console him. “You did what you were supposed to. I guess that sometimes things just go wrong.”

“Maybe I didn’t do enough, say the right things. I certainly didn’t help that girl.”

“Why don’t you go stand in the river for a while,” Ria suggested. “It might be able to help you understand.” She pointed to a spot some distance from Marilyn, and he slumped as he walked towards it. Ria saw that Shelly was tending to Marilyn and the baby, so she walked up to the crowd around the body. The native women were clearly undertaking some type of ritual.

“That’s her aunt,” one of the boys from the trip explained. “She married Ginny’s father’s brother. Ginny used to spend a lot of time with them when things got tense at home.”

Just then a smallish man of about 40 appeared, and wailed when he saw the body, throwing himself on it in a display of grief.

“Her parents,” the boy told Ria. “Her dad is okay, I guess, but her mom rules in their house, and she is a real bit… character,” he said, deciding not to finish the word he was thinking.

“Where is the mother?” Ria asked.

“I told her and she just said ‘good riddance’,” the boy said. “She thinks she is better than the rest of us. Her husband works in the mines in Sudbury, and only gets home a few weeks a year. She uses the money he makes so that her house can be better than anyone else’s and her clothes better than the other women.”

“Did she really say that?” Ria asked in amazement. Perhaps it was shock at her daughter’s death that was behind the callous statement.

“Yeah. It figures. If Ginny was pregnant, then her mom would have gone ballistic. She kept her out of school since March, and Ginny failed grade eight. She would have been going to high school with the rest of us.”

“Who was the baby’s father?” Ria asked.

“Hmm, good question,” the boy said. “She wasn’t going out with anybody. Wait … she was running around with one of the high school boys at Christmas time. He came back for a visit on March break.”

“Is that boy around? See if you can find him,” Ria said.

Just then Rod came back from his session in the river. “You were right,” he said. “It was not my fault. The girl wasn’t at the session we had with the young people.”

“But you asked that everyone attend. She should have been there!”

“Apparently her mom is a real special case. She felt letting people know that her daughter was pregnant somehow would diminish her status on the reserve. She kept the girl locked up for months, alone in the house. The father was more loving to his daughter, but he was weak, and intimidated by his wife. The girl escaped earlier today, and eventually made her way to that tree, with a rope.” Rod choked up a bit. “If we had only been sooner.”

“Not our fault,” Ria repeated. “Not your fault. It sounds like the mother is nuts. Apparently she said ‘good riddance’ when the boys said Ginny was dead. She still hasn’t shown up. It is an aunt who is leading the women.”

“What do we do now?” Rod asked.

“Well, we will have to notify the police. And probably Children’s Aid.”

“I don’t think we are going to be able to pry that baby away from Marilyn,” Rod replied glancing over to the river, where Shelly was protectively standing over her sister and the infant.

“I don’t think the baby would survive without her,” Ria noted. “She is very premature, but Marilyn says that the river is helping keep her alive.”

It was late in the evening when the canoes finally left the reserve to head down river. Marilyn held onto the tiny baby. Her father had come to see the child, sobbing that the little girl was all that he had left of his daughter. His sister in law, and many others on the reserve came to see the baby as well, with most certain that the tiny child could not live through the night. The baby’s father also appeared. He had no idea that he had gotten Ginny pregnant. He jumped at the chance to assign his parental rights to Marilyn. He still had a year of high school to finish, and had hopes of going on to university. Looking after a baby was not on his current priority list.

Rod also got permission from Ginny’s father for Marilyn to take the child, much to the dismay of the Children’s Aid worker who arrived in from Sudbury at about 6 p.m. The lady wanted to take custody of the child immediately, and make Marilyn go through the normal adoption process, which would have nearly no chance of success as a single, unemployed, First Nations woman. But the permissions from the father and grandfather trumped her right to take the child without a court order, so Marilyn was able to leave with the child.

Ginny’s mother did practically nothing through the entire day. She had not even wanted to speak to the police officer until she was told that silence was not an option. She refused to look at her granddaughter, and insisted that the baby was not her kin.

The progression down the river was bigger, with five canoes instead of just two. Three of the canoe builders in the Stone Ledge band wanted their boats to be considered by River for sale though the Red Door brand. These were paddled by young boys and girls from Stone Ledge who wanted to attend the high school in St. Mary’s in the fall, and wanted to check out the school and the town.

Thus neither Marilyn nor Shelly needed to paddle a canoe, with the two boys who had joined them on the hike up to Ice Spring providing the manpower as they sat in Ben Stormcloud’s largest canoe. Women from the reserve had provided a good supply of cloth diapers for the baby, who looked much healthier at the end of her first day than at the beginning. Marilyn was continually either nursing the baby or holding it as it slept. Between her and Shelly the sisters learned how to change a diaper in a moving canoe.

Whenever Marilyn was nursing, she held the baby to her breast with one hand, while the other trailed in the water outside the canoe, allowing the river to feed the child through her. None of those on the trip slept that night. They would dip an arm in the river whenever they felt tired, and immediately were refreshed. This allowed them to paddle through the night.

The next morning River was in a good mood as she walked in the dark towards the river. Yesterday Connie had shown up for work at the store. Apparently, the Bay had a buyout plan going, and were quite willing to accept her resignation. What’s more, they preferred that she use up her vacation days instead of giving notice. They didn’t want to have to pay out for so many days. Between the buyout and the vacation days, an excited Connie was back at the store eager to get started. The store was opened but a grand opening needed to be planned. Online sales continued steadily, with the store starting to get a reputation due to the viral videos of the totem pole and now the Rube Goldberg device.

When River stepped into the water she was shocked to learn that the expedition was on the way back, and should return by early afternoon, over a week early. The river did not explain all that went on at Stone Ledge, but did say that five canoes were working their way down river, paddling through the night, with an estimated time of arrival of 4 p.m. River knew that something was happening, but didn’t know what. The river told that more than a half dozen students from the smaller reservation were in the flotilla and River was glad that she would have a chance to meet some of her future classmates.

Once the sun was up River was chatting with Wayne when Nick drove up. He announced that he was planning to make another trip to Toronto to check on the sale of the two houses.

“Is it urgent?” River asked.

“Not really, why? I wanted to get it done before Marilyn gets back next week.”

“Well, there is a bit of news,” River said. “They are coming back today. They should bet back by 4 p.m.”

“Great,” Nick said excitedly, a smile exploding across his face as he thought about his girlfriend returning early. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, exactly. The river is being close about it. Something happened, but I don’t know what. I do know that all the people are well and returning, as well as quite a few new people from Stone Ledge. Mostly students who want to start school here in the fall instead of going to one of the cities.”

“I wonder if the school will be ready for them,” Nick said. “We should head down and talk to the principal again. Are Rod and the girls going to be going to many more reservations?”

“Yes. But not by canoe. They will go by truck. Those were the only two other reservations on the river. The others are on other lakes and rivers, and are best accessed by road. Edith and Harold have made up a list of reservations within a couple hours drive. Stone Ledge is only an hour away by road, but we felt the traditional method of travel would be more effective for a first trip. It also allowed the team a chance to bond.”

“So how many reservations will they hit before school starts?”

“They will do two a week, so four before the first week of school, and two others before the cutoff dates for changing schools.”

“So if there are four students from each reserve, including the two reserves already visited, that would make 32 additional students. That’s another class, and another teacher. The school will need to be ready,” Nick said.

“Actually,” River said, “I think there are a lot more than four per reserve. The river said that there were eight coming down from Stone Ledge. But the other reserves may be smaller, or have fewer kids coming to high school. Part of Rod’s job is to give the kids hope, and part of that is staying in school. I hope that there are at least one or two kids from every reserve that planned on not going to high school who decide to come after listening to him.”

“It looks like you have a mission again,” Wayne said. “I’ve got to get ready for the JR crew. I’ll leave you with Nick.”

At nine Nick and River returned to the high school, where River had been registered last week. At first Hugh Tweed thought that there were problems with the registration and was relieved when Nick said that they were just there to give advance warning of the potential for new students.

“That’s fine,” the principal said cheerily. “A few more students are good for the school. We are underutilized, and a few more students will help keep the numbers up for the next four years, if they all stay till graduation.”

“That is the thing,” Nick explained. “It might be 30 or 40 more, not just a few.”

River explained Rod’s mission, and noted that there would be six or eight students coming down in the evening to check out the school. An appointment was set up to allow Mr. Tweed to show off his school to the prospective students.

“I can take on eight or even 10 more grade nines,” he said. “But if there are 30 or 40 I will need a new class. That means a new teacher. I have a pile of resumes from people down south who want a job, but I don’t know if we can get any of them in just two weeks. Actually, teachers are expected next week, even though classes are not until later.”

“Here’s an idea,” Nick said. “I happened to give a ride to Patrick George last week. He said he was a retired school teacher who taught in Thunder Bay for years.”

“Oh,” River said excitedly, “if you hire one of the people, perhaps you could offer classes in Ojibwe language and culture. I know that some of the city schools that cater to kids from the reserve do that, and it entices kids to go to those schools.”

“Hmmm,” the principal pondered. “There is official curriculum in Ojibwe, although I’m not familiar with it, as we have never had a teacher who could teach it. That might work out well. Do have your friend contact me, today if possible.”

Nick left to find Patrick, and drive him back to the school. River went to the store, to find that Connie had everything in hand. At lunch Nick reported back that Patrick and the principal had hit it off, with Patrick excited at the opportunity to teach children from his own reserve, and Mr. Tweed happy to have a teacher he could call on if needed. The contract he offered Patrick was contingent on at least 28 new students before the first day of school.

At about three people started congregating at the meeting place at the river. River was there, and as soon as she entered the water the river told her that the others were less than an hour away. Nick stood nervously on the bank, waiting for Marilyn to return. His hands fingered the small velvet-covered box he held in his pocket. He knew what he planned to do, but wasn’t sure if he should do it here, in front of all the people, or later in private.

Carla and Liesl entered the river a few minutes later, and started to sing the welcoming song that was traditionally sung for hunters or warriors returning home. They interspersed it with other songs, until on a cue from River they returned to that song. Soon they could hear singing from up the river, and seconds later all the people on the bank also started singing.

Then the first canoe came around the bend, paddled by two young boys who were new to the people. Then another strange canoe came, paddled by a boy and a girl. Finally Nick could see Ben’s canoe, with Shelly right behind the front paddler, another stranger. At first he couldn’t see Marilyn, then he noticed that she was bent over, looking down at something. Finally she looked up and scanned the bank, eventually noticing Nick. Her face smiled, and then she bent down again.

It was less than three minutes, but it seemed like an eternity to Nick before the canoe reached him. Marilyn handed something over to Shelly, and then took Nick’s hand as he pulled her out of the canoe and into a long and passionate kiss. They paid no attention as the others got out of the canoe, but then Marilyn broke free.

“I have someone I want you to meet,” she said, turning to Shelly who handed her a small bundle. “This is my new love.”

Nick stared at the tiny body who nestled into Marilyn and started to nurse. As the flotilla had appeared, the river recounted everything that happened to River, and she came over to the baby, with Carla and Liesl following, with both girls pronouncing an ‘aaah’ in harmony. Ben and Helen, Marilyn’s parents also moved in close as well. “She is so tiny,” Carla noted.

“She is premature,” Shelly explained. “Her mother died just before she was born, and the river, and Marilyn, have been keeping her alive.”

“Am I a grandmother?” Helen asked. Marilyn nodded yes.

“Then I’m an aunt,” Liesl squealed.

Then Nick stood and took the baby from Marilyn’s breast, much to its annoyance. He held the baby high and announced: “I swear that I shall treat this child as my own; to provide for her, and to nurture her as a father should.” He quickly handed the babe back to Marilyn, for she was wriggling and twisting to get back to the breast that was keeping her alive.

“Does she have a name?” River asked.

“I have just been calling her Luv,” Marilyn said with a maternal smile.

“The river suggests that we name her Beloved,” River said. Marilyn and Nick both nodded. “With a middle name of Virginia to honor her late mother.”

Nick then dropped to one knee, fishing the box from his pocket. He held the box out to Marilyn. “Would you make me the happiest man in the world?”

“I will,” she said, grasping the rising man, kissing him even as the tiny child continued to suckle on her breast.

“I pronounce you a family of the people,” River said. “Mr. and Mrs. Nick Summerstorm and Beloved Virginia Summerstorm. Cheers and applause erupted from across the riverbank.

Two chapters for the price of one this week.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 24 and 25

Chapter 24
So far: The events in Stone Ledge reach a conclusion, and not a happy one. However Marilyn receives a treasure, and the flotilla heads back to the reserve in record time. The loss of Virginia Audette is not yet a completed story, however.

As Marilyn and Nick admired their tiny new baby, River came over. “It isn’t over,” she said. “The river said that there will be a hearing the day after tomorrow, before Ginny’s funeral. Something to do with Ginny’s parents. They will send someone down asking us to attend.”

“Who is us?” Nick asked.

“Do we have to do the canoe trip again?” Marilyn said.

“No, we can go by car, or truck. It is only an hour by road. We only used the canoe trip the first time to highlight our heritage. The other bands that Rod will visit will be by truck. We’ll have to get a camper or two rigged out.” She turned to Nick. “Rod, Ria, Marilyn, Shelly and of course Beloved will be expected. You should go as well, both as the new father, and in case your legal abilities are useful. I think I should attend, along with some of the elders from here: Edith and Harold, I think. A car or truck from Stone Ledge will drop by tomorrow to officially invite us, when they come to pick up the kids that came down on the canoe. The river is just giving us some advance warning.”

The next morning River accompanied Nick and Marilyn to the hospital to have the baby examined by the doctor. River, in her early morning visit to the river was surprised to find a canoe resting on the bank, with the new family all bundled up sleeping in it. Marilyn’s arm hung over the side, to receive energy from the water, and she woke in the early morning to give Luv a feeding. She noticed River sitting in the water nearby, and gave her a wink, but didn’t say anything lest she wake Nick.

River learned more from the river about what was happening up in Stone Ledge. Apparently the people there were quite upset about Ginny’s mother, and were blaming the suicide on her. The girl’s father was completely distraught, and had spent the night with his sister and her husband rather in the house that no longer was home to his beloved daughter.

When morning finally broke, River went over to Nick and nudged him awake. Marilyn was also up, as was Luv, who apparently needed to be changed. “You don’t need to stay by the river anymore,” River said. “Luv is past the point of danger. She is still small, but everything inside is now healed and healthy.”

“Thank God,” Nick said. “That was probably the most uncomfortable night I have ever spent. I know there is an old joke that being Canadian means being able to make love in a canoe, but that is ridiculous. I could hardly sleep at all.”

“You seemed to be doing all right the times I looked,” River laughed. “But tonight you will be able to sleep in a bed. Expect to be wakened in the middle of the night at least once by a crying baby. Luv is special, but she is just a normal newborn baby in most ways. Have you decided where you will live?”

“We could stay with Mom and Dad,” Marilyn said. “They are thrilled at being grandparents.”

“So are my parents,” Nick said. “But I really want a home for my family of my own. How soon before your Dad gets those houses finished?”

“Ours won’t be ready until early October,” River said. “I’m not sure how long it will be until a second one is done. At least another couple weeks. You’d have to ask Dad.”

“I will. I definitely want one of those houses.”

“But they are so expensive,” Marilyn noted.

“I will get a lot of money from selling my place in Toronto. We,” he emphasized the ‘we’, “can afford it.”

“We have the doctor this morning,” River said. “I understand he is an early bird, and should be at work at 7. Do you want breakfast first?”

“I really don’t need any,” Marilyn said. “The river nourished me all night. But Nick probably is hungry. My mom will be up, and will trade a few breakfasts for a chance to hold Luv for a few minutes.”

“If she can get her away from Liesl and Shelly,” River joked.

“Mare, do you think we could head down to Sault when we are finished with the doctor? There are a ton of things that we will need to get for a baby. Maybe take Shelly along too? She might know more things we need.”

“If that is the case, we should take Mom too,” Marilyn said. “After all, she is the one who is the expert in having babies.”

After breakfast at the Stormcloud house the trip to the hospital at 7 was an expedition, with Helen, Shelly and Liesl all insisting on coming along. With River, even Nick’s big car was full. Luv sat on Marilyn’s lap, as Nick mentally added ‘carseat’ to his mental list of things to buy in the city.

The doctor looked much better than he had the last time River had seen him. He had put weight on since his cancer was cured, and he was smiling at them, something River could not remember from past visits. He cooed over the baby to the satisfaction of the women in the party, and gave her a full physical.

“According to what you have told me, and her diminutive size, I really should keep her here in an incubator for a few weeks. But something tells me you aren’t going to accept that, are you?”

“If you found something wrong with her, she would definitely stay,” Nick said. “But if it is just a precautionary step, then no. We will keep her with us. Love has kept her alive so far, and we don’t want to give her up.”

“I understand. It is just that premature babies like little Beloved here often have internal organs that are not completely developed, and we like to watch them closely for complications that might come up. But I suspect that your healing river has had something to do with her apparent good health.”

“Yes, it has in fact,” River said. “Until this morning Luv has been in nearly constant contact with the river, and it has been healing her all this time. It told me this morning that she was now healthy and no longer needed to be in contact with it. The Summerstorms hope to take her to Sault today to buy baby supplies.”

“Good luck,” Dr. Mitchell said. “She looks quite ready for a trip, although I don’t think I’ve ever said that about a two-day-old seven-month preemie before.” He turned to River. “About your river. My doctors in Sault and Sudbury cannot believe the way it cured me. They want to do some tests. If your river can cure cancer, it will be a godsend for thousands.”

“And a curse for the people of the reservation who have to deal with thousands who come hoping to be cured,” River snapped. “The river decides who and when it will heal people, and while it mostly heals our people, it will occasionally heal someone who is helping us, like yourself. But the river belongs to all. Your doctors are welcome to come and see it, and bring others along, if they want, but don’t expect it to cure them.”

“I don’t understand why you keep referring to the river as if it was a person, and has a will of its own. Isn’t it something you control? It was you that healed me.”

“No, I didn’t heal you. I was merely there.”

“Can you be there for the experiment?” the doctor pressed.

“I am at the river every morning at two a.m. until sunrise,” River finally said. “And I think I am going to have to make 4 p.m. a regular time as well. People from other bands are starting to come to the river as a sort of pilgrimage, and I need to be there for them. If your doctors come at, say, 5 p.m. I will be able to talk with them.”

“Could you do it earlier?” Dr. Mitchell said. “Coming in from Sault, five is a bit late.”

“They are welcome at 2 a.m. then,” River said.

“Five will be fine,” the doctor said. “I will let you know when they plan on arriving.”

River walked to the store while the others headed off to Sault. Connie was already in, and she spent a few hours there, and then visited with the young people who had paddled downriver with Rod and Ria. Most had camped in tents in the park. They were a bit surprised that she was also going to start grade nine with them in a few weeks. She joined them for the tour of the school with principal Tweed. They also visited pretty much each business in town, but were most taken by the Rube machine outside the co-operative.

River realized that the complex device was going to be one of the most significant attractions for teens to the town. It had already become the teen hangout for St. Mary’s, with kids from both the reserve and the town congregating there. A few picnic tables had been moved in by someone, and the vacant lot had become the ‘hang out’ spot for the teens, much like malls were in the cities. Kids would buy snacks and pops down the street at the store, and then hang out for hours, taking turns on the device.

That afternoon, as expected, a delegation from Stone Ledge came by to invite the elders to the hearing they planned the next day. Several of the women of the group asked to see Luv, and when they were told she was not available, they said they hadn’t thought that she would be able to survive being born so early. They were amazed to learn that she was not dead, but on a trip to the city to buy baby supplies with her new parents. River promised that she would be in Stone Ledge the next day for all to see.

River then led all the visitors from Stone Ledge to the river meeting place. Rod had to go to the store and almost drag back some of the young people who wanted to wait for another chance on the Goldberg device. Luckily his new status as the Prophet was enough to get them all to pile into the back of his truck, getting to the river just as River was about to start.

River sang them the song of the history of the people, and once again the river taught the language to the people who hadn’t known it before. After an hour, the ceremony was over and the people congregated on the riverbank. River was told several times to expect more people in the future, when the people from today’s sessions got back and told their friends and relatives how important it was to visit the river. River noted that she would be at the river each day at 4 p.m., unless she was out of town, as she would be tomorrow.

River was up early again, and when she entered the water in her normal spot, the river told her to wade downstream a mile or two. She did so, and when she did she came to the Stormcloud house. It was dark, and there was no moon, so she could barely see the great hulk that was parked on the lawn in front of the shed. By starlight, and with river-amplified vision she soon made out that the shape was a 45-foot Winnebago trailer. Nick had gotten a home for his family.

When River got out of the water at sun up she heard a baby crying, and then speaking from within the trailer, so she tapped quietly on the door. Nick opened it, wearing only pajama pants.

“River, come in. Welcome to Casa Summerstorm.”

“Hi River,” Marilyn said from the back of the vehicle. “Did little Luv bother your time in the river? She has quite the set of lungs on her. I’m so glad we weren’t in the house last night. She would have woken everyone.”

“And none of them would complain. She certainly lives up to her name,” River said. “Everyone loves her.”

“None as much as me,” Marilyn said. “I wasn’t sure if I would ever have a child again, but now I know we will. Nick is the perfect father, and the perfect husband, and we will have the happiest family on the reserve. Starting with this little one.”

“Feel free to add compliments of your own, River,” Nick joked.

“Did you buy this thing?” River asked in amazement.

“Yes we did,” Nick said. “It is used. I wanted a new one, but they need a few days to kit one of those out. This one had been returned by the couple that had bought it after using it for a season and finding that RVing was not the way of life for them. It took a bit of hassle getting the bank in Toronto to wire the money up to Sault, but once the dealer had the cash, we had the boat.”

“Boat? Like a tug?” River teased. “Are you going to be taking everyone in the band for rides in this like you did in your car?”

“Mom wants the car,” Marilyn said. “She drove it back from Sault while we came in this. Shelly and Liesl came with us, and Mom said she didn’t mind the trip back alone at all in that car. She says if she can just get some country song CDs for the stereo, she will be happy.”

“No, Wayne is selling the car,” Nick told River. “And there will be no trips in this thing. It is parked. It is a home, not a vehicle. Ben said we could park it here until your dad gets a house ready for us. Then we will turn this over to Rod and Ria for the trips out to the distant reservations, if they are still doing that.”

River gasped. “You are going to donate it? Wow. You must really love your sister.”

Nick laughed. “I do, but I love what she and Rod are doing more. I’ve seen what can happen to our people in the cities. I think if we can keep them on the reservations whenever possible, it is better. I know it has been way better for me, and there were people who were pointing me out as a model, successful First Nations man who had a promising legal future. But I had this great hole in me that was filled the first time I stood in your river.”

“Not my river,” River said. “It belongs to all the people.”

Chapter 25

River had breakfast with the Stormclouds again, and then they headed up to Stone Ledge. Shelly, River, Marilyn, Luv and Nick drove in his car. Rod and Ria went in Rod’s pickup of many colors, while Edith and Harold drove up in Harold’s slightly nicer pickup.

At the meeting the people from the river found that the Stone Ledge band was holding the hearing to determine if the parents of Ginny Audette were to be banished from the band. Nick explained the situation to River as the meeting was being set up.

“All land on a reserve is owned communally. The band owns the land, but the homeowners own their buildings. It really isn’t the best system, but we are forced into it through tradition and the government. Because you can’t normally sell your house, unless it is to be moved away, many people don’t show the same care and pride of ownership that white people show. If the band banishes someone, they retain their First Nations status, but they are no longer allowed to have a home on the reserve. The Audettes will have to move to a different reserve, or to a city. It is a pretty harsh punishment.”

An elder of the Stone Ledge group called the meeting to order. He announced that the funeral services for Ginny Audette would be held after the meeting. He asked if the river people would serve as judges. Harold and Edith looked to River, who spoke for them. “I don’t think that would be appropriate. We are not really impartial, as Beloved is now a member of our band. However, I have to ability to discern the truth of statements, if I am standing in the river. You might want to make use of that ability as you try to understand what really happened.”

With that, the decision was made to move the meeting a few hundred yards, down to the river. River walked out into the middle of the shallow water, and then kneeled down in it. The elder again called for order.

What happened then was pretty much a trial or inquest. Ria and Rod were called first to explain what they had seen, and then Marilyn testified. Before she did she presented Beloved to the people of Stone Ledge, and the little sweetheart lived up to her name, stealing the love of almost all she met. The one exception seemed to be Sarah Audette, her grandmother, who refused to look at the baby.

Once things settled down Marilyn testified that when Ginny was brought down from the tree she felt the river tell her that there was still life within the body. As a result she rushed the body to the river, in hopes of reviving the girl. Instead, the river told her that the girl had died, but that her child lived on within her, and then in the cold water the body expelled the tiny babe. She knew immediately what to do, and as Rod cut the umbilical cord, she lifted her bra and suckled the baby, after rapping it gently on the back to start its breathing. As she nursed, she felt the river feeding power and strength into her, and from her into the baby, finishing the development of premature organs and keeping the tiny baby alive.

Those who had seen the baby after it was born were amazed. It was still tiny, but had gained several pounds in two days, almost half its original body weight.

Shelly told her part of the story, followed by Rod and then the two boys. Gail Brownhawk, Ginny’s aunt, testified next. She told about the scene after the suicide first, and how she had led the women in laying out the body for burial, normally a task that would have fallen to the mother of a girl so young. She also testified that Ginny had come to her home many times over the past three or four years, often with bruises on her arms and back. The girl told her that her mother had beaten her for some minor misdemeanor. It seemed that whatever the girl did was not good enough for her mother, who insisted that she must be better, and prettier, and smarter than the other girls in the band.

Sarah Audette sneered at that, and claimed that her sister-in-law was lying, and that she never had harmed her daughter.

“That testimony is correct and true,” River said. “The river verifies what Mrs. Brownhawk said. It does note that Mrs. Audette is lying when she said she never hit her daughter.”

The next to give evidence was Neil Audette, Ginny’s father. He admitted that he was away most of the time, working at the mines in Sudbury, a long drive away. He returned on some weekends, when his shifts would give him three or four days off. Often he was away for several weeks to a month.

He admitted that he was weak and emotionally his wife dominated him. He said things had gotten worse in the spring, when Ginny was discovered to be pregnant. When he came home the next time he found that Sarah had taken Ginny out of school, and was keeping her locked up at home. He confessed that he knew the girl was upset, and broke down several times trying to explain how she had begged him to let her go to her aunt’s house, but he had been too weak to overrule his wife’s orders.

After that powerful and alarming testimony, which River pronounced entirely factual, Mrs. Audette was asked to testify. She refused, claiming that the hearing was nothing more than a kangaroo court, with no merit.

Nick then presented his credentials to her, and the others, and pointed out that the hearing was legitimate and legal, and had the power to evict one or both of the Audettes from the community. “They cannot take your house,” he said. “But if they rule that you must leave, then you will have 90 days to remove it or lose it to the band. You could auction it off, and the highest bidder, if he or she is a member in good standing of the band, would take possession. It is a rather large house, and I doubt that it would be able to be moved easily.”

Sarah blanched at the thought of losing her beloved home. She knew that her reputation, groomed so carefully over the years, was destroyed with these people. She would have to move away and start to rebuild her life. Perhaps in a city; somewhere big enough to show her talents and let them shine. She would have to get rid of her worthless excuse of a husband, but that could be done easily, if not cheaply. “I wish to auction off the house. As soon as possible,” she said.

“Your husband will have to agree,” Nick said. “He will get half of the proceeds.”

“What?” Sarah snapped. “I look after the money in our household. I make these decisions.”

“Nonetheless he will have to agree to a sale,” Nick said. “And we are a bit premature to be discussing the sale, when you have not yet been banished. That decision will have to be made first.”

“Oh, they have all decided,” Sarah sneered.

The elder then announced that no more testimony was deemed necessary, and called for a vote. Apparently every adult in the band was to get a vote, and the first vote was on Sarah Audette. When the call was made, every hand in the crowd went up in favor of expelling her. The woman turned in rage and stormed away.

The second vote was much closer. About half the hands went up on the call to expel Neil Audette, and a recorded vote was required to determine that he too was expelled, but only by a 231-205 vote. The small man sagged as he heard the numbers, and then stood to speak.

“I understand. I blame myself for my daughter’s death, so this punishment is far less than what I already face … a life without my beloved Ginny. There is only one thing I ask, and I will understand if it is not granted. Ginny is to be buried here tonight, and her grave will be here forever. I only ask permission to be able to come and visit her grave from time to time. It would mean a lot to me.”

“I think we can grant that wish,” the elder said. “The banishment only says that you can no longer have a home on the reserve. I know you have kin here, and you can also come and visit them if you wish, so long as you don’t live here. Does everyone agree with that?”

There was a general nodding of approval, and there was no need for a second vote on that.

“Thank you so much,” Neil said as he looked over his neighbors. “And like Sarah says, I agree to the house being auctioned.”

“This would be the best time to do so,” the elder said. “All the eligible people who can bid are here. Can I have a first bid?”

For a long time no one spoke, and then another elder spoke up. “I bid $100 on behalf of the band.” There was a gasp heard among the people. A house without land does not command the kind of money that normal real estate does, but bids would be expected to be in the $50,000-plus range for such a nice building.

Several women in the gathering looked to their husband. Sarah Audette’s house had been envied by many of the others in the community, and to be able to get it for a few hundred dollars would be wonderful. But their husbands knew what was happening, and each shook his head at the enquiring glance from his wife.

Nick looked on, concerned. Finally he decided to speak. “I think I understand what is happening here, and it is not a good thing. If a house is sold for such a small price, then a court will be easy to convince that the sale was not done fairly. An auction where there is only one bid, by one person is not going to be deemed fair by most judges, and you could be forced to hold another auction.”

The elder thought for a moment. “We want this to be done legally. You are a lawyer. What type of price would be considered a legal sale?”

“I can’t really say,” Nick said. “Even $1000 is too small. $5000 would be questionable. I think that you would be safe at $10,000 though for a house without land. It still could be contested, but it then would be seen as a bargain, which is not illegal. It would also be better if the auction had several bidders, not just a single bid by the band.”

“That means that woman will get $5,000,” a woman in the crowd sneered. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“That may be,” Nick said, noting that the objection of the people only seemed to be for Sarah, not Neil. “But the band will be getting a fine building at a bargain. The only thing is that it would be difficult to sell the building at a later time for a significantly higher price. Not to mention the bad feelings that might occur if the house goes to one family and not another.”

With that the auction restarted, and now there were several bidders, raising the price by $100 increments until it neared the $10,000 level. Nick noted that many of the bidders were those men whose wife had shown interest before. In one case a woman was bidding.

The $10,000 bid was issued by the same band elder who had made the initial $100 bid, on behalf of the band, and at that point a quiet fell over the group. After several minutes with no further bids, the elder declared the auction over, and said that the house would become band property, with its use to be determined at a later time.

With the session over, River had risen and walked to the bank, easily stepping out from the shallow water. “If I can make a suggestion,” she said. “One use of the house would be to make it a center for the boys and girls of the community. Adult meetings could be held in a meeting room, but other parts of the house could be a place for the young people to congregate and interact. It could be called Ginny’s House, because really, that is what it is. It would be a place for kids to come and meet. I’m told that since Rod spoke with the kids earlier in the week, there has been an upsurge in interest in the old ways, and the elders of the band could pass on their lore and history to the young ones in those rooms.”

There was an instant murmur of agreement through the crowd. ‘That is a wonderful idea, River,” the elder said. “I can see why you are such a treasure to your band. However, now we have a more somber task. The burial rites for Ginny Audette, taken from us far too soon.”

Ginny’s burial took over an hour. River was asked to speak and did briefly, mentioning how Ginny lived on through her daughter, and asked that the people of Stone Ledge adopt Luv as well as the people of the river had. The biggest impact of the rite came when Ginny’s body was laid into her grave. River broke out into song, singing in Ojibwe. She sang the song of departure traditionally sung when the warriors left the tribe to go to battle. The words were apt for the journey Ginny was taking, and soon the entire tribe was singing. What was amazing was that even those people who didn’t speak the language knew the words, and their meaning, and were able to join in with those who did.

After the funeral River saw Neil Audette talking to Edith and Harold. She approached with Nick.

“This is who you should speak with,” Edith said then turned to River. “Mr. Audette is asking if he might join our band. It will be close to his daughter’s grave, so he can visit it regularly.”

“I will understand if you say no,” the man said. “I mean, Beloved is down there, and she already has new grandparents, as I understand it. A third grandfather would just be confusing. I would like to see her from time to time though, even if she doesn’t know who I am. She is the spitting image of her mother when she was born, and seeing her … it will be like seeing Ginny again, in a way.”

“I cannot allow that,” River said. “You will see your granddaughter, and you will be a part of her life. There is going to be a time when she learns she is adopted, and when that time comes you are the only person who can answer her questions about her birth mother. I certainly hope that you can become a member of our band. Beloved deserves a third grandfather, and I hope that Marilyn and Nick will consider you a part of the family.”

Nick nodded his head in agreement. “We could even find you a space in our mobile home, and certainly one in our house when it is built.”

“I thank you for your generosity, young man,” Neil said. “I can see that my granddaughter will have a fine father. And a mother as well,” he added as Marilyn and Luv joined the group.

“We were just saying that Neil would be welcome in our house,” Nick told her. “He wants to join our reserve.”

“No, I will find a place of my own, or build one,” Neil said. “I am going to leave the mines. I only put up with working there to feed my ex-wife’s need for money. Without her I can live comfortably on welfare until something comes up. I just need a place to sleep and eat, and a room for Luv, when she is old enough to come visit.”

“Do you want to hold your granddaughter,” Marilyn said, holding out the baby. “I don’t think you’ve had the chance yet.”

“What? Yes, please,” the man took the tiny baby and gently cradled her to his chest.

“I think she likes it there,” Marilyn said smiling at the look of contentment on the man’s face.

“She knows she is loved,” River said as she watched the anguish and pain melt away from Neil’s face as he held the tiny tot.

“She doesn’t weigh anything,” Neil said. “Precious, so precious.” He looked up at Marilyn, with real tears in his eyes. “Thank you so much for this. You don’t know how much it means to me. To have held my little angel.” He finally, and reluctantly, handed the baby back.

“It would have been hard for Ginny to raise Luv,” he admitted. “Without support from Sarah, I don’t know if she could have done it. She was so young. You and Nick are more mature, the right age for parenting. I’m sure you will do well for her.”

“Come walk with me, Mr. Audette,” River said. “I would like to have a little chat with you. Do you mind wading?” River stepped off the bank into the water. Hesitatingly Neil followed.

“Normally the river is too cold to stand in, but this is nice,” Neil said.

“A perk of being rivertalker,” River said. “I detected something in the way you were talking. You aren’t planning on doing anything foolish, are you?”

The older man broke down over the next three seconds, and soon was sobbing on River’s shoulder. “I can’t go on now,” he moaned. “Not without my Ginny. You don’t know how much I loved that girl, and I failed her. She is gone forever and it is all my fault. I would be better off with her where she is now.”

River held the sobbing man tightly, and felt the river also feeding him support. “Don’t be foolish,” she said, a little harshly. “If you did … that, what would Luv think? First her mother commits suicide, and then her grandfather? Are you planning to teach her that this is the way people handle rough times?”

Neil pulled back in shock. “Oh no, I could never … I mean … no. Just no. I can’t let that happen to Luv.”

“Then you have to be there for her,” River said. “Be there when she takes her first steps, when she says her first words. Be there the first time she calls you Grampa. That is a little girl that needs a whole lot of love. I think you have it in you to share with her, and to be with her as she grows up. I want you to be there when she walks down the aisle in a wedding dress. I want you to be there when she places her own baby on grandpa’s lap for the first time. Do you really want to miss all that?”

“No, no, no,” Neil wailed. “You are right. There is so much more for me here. I will miss Ginny every day of my life, but I have to keep living for Luv. I am so stupid. Why do people like you care about an old fool like me?”

“Because you are special,” River said in a comforting voice. “Manitou loves all his children. The people, the trees, the animals, even the rocks. He looks after you, and wants you to do what is right. Do you know what is right?”

“I do. Now. Thanks for talking with me, River. I feel better now. You have a way with people.”

“It is easy when you are in the river,” she said. “It connects us directly to Manitou. Come now, lets go back to the others.”

“I can’t. They will see I have been crying,” Neil said.

“So what? You just buried your only daughter. You have a right to have been crying.”

“I guess so.” They walked together back to the others.

“Everything all right?” Edith asked tactfully.

“It is now,” Neil said. “River just had to tell me a few things that needed to be said. I am much better now, and ready to head south with you when go. I will pick up a few things from the house. Most of it belongs to Sarah, and I will take my truck. She will get the car, I guess.

“She has left already,” Nick said. “She was not happy when she found what the house sold for. I’m not sure where she went. Do you want me to make sure that she doesn’t clear out all your bank accounts and such? I suspect she will empty them.”

“No need,” Neil said. “She is the only one with access to them. I got an allowance from her and she cashed my pay checks into her account.”

“But half of everything is yours,” Nick insisted.

“No, she can have it. But what you can do is start divorce proceedings for me. I want to be rid of that woman.”

Sarah Audette looked around the tiny apartment she had rented in Thunder Bay. She had seen nicer ones, but the cost was higher. And many places insisted that the apartment being shown had already been rented when they saw that she was First Nations. She had finally gotten this one-bedroom unit over a store. The owner, who ran the variety store below, had the audacity to suggest that she might work in the store if she wanted. Sarah Audette, variety store clerk? Certainly not, she thought.

The apartment was tiny, but she was able to pay the rent with the money in her savings account. She never let Neil know how much she had saved, and the lawyer she had hired in the divorce proceedings that Neil had started said that was a good thing.

Then the divorce came through. Neil had quit his job at the mines in Sudbury, and was living on welfare, so Sarah’s hopes of a hefty alimony were dashed. The judge had taken a dislike for her, and said she could not get anything out of his welfare check. She did rule that if Neil got a job off the reserve, then he would have to pay her a third of his net pay. But it looked clear to Sarah that the lazy bum would never leave for a good job. He had only worked because she had pushed him, and now that he was out from under her finger he seemed to have reverted to his lazy ways.

After paying the lawyer, Sarah had enough money to live on for another fourteen months. She had applied for welfare as soon as she got the apartment, but she had expensive habits, including going shopping whenever she felt down about things. As a result she was spending three dollars for each dollar that was coming in, eating away at the savings.

Perhaps working in a variety store would not be such a bad thing.

Okay, here is a challenge for my readers. Luckily I have been cruising through the chapters and am a bit ahead. I love that so many readers are viewing my work, and that many of you are offering kudos. But the comments have been down lately, and I really live for your comments. This past week I went back through the earlier chapters and re-read them all again, and that boosted my fragile ego enough to get two more chapters written.

So here is the challenge. If I get 12 comments, I will post the next chapter this weekend. This chapter isn’t as exciting as any of the other ones, so you can go back and comment on an older chapter and I will still count it. (And special love to Dorothy Colleen, who I think has commented on every single chapter.)

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 26

So far: Nick solved the problem of a home for his new family, at least until a permanent place is completed. A delegation of the river people headed to a hearing at Stone Ledge, where Ginny’s parents were banished. Luv’s grandfather opted to move to the river reserve, while her grandmother decided to try her luck in the bigger city of Thunder Bay.

After the trauma and excitement of the past few days, River was looking forward to a quiet day ahead when she went to her parents' campsite that evening for supper. She had a note from the doctor informing her that a group from the Cancer Centre in Sudbury would be coming to the river at 5 p.m. the next day. She was less than pleased. Medical science and the mystical powers of the river would never work well together. She just hoped that the doctor would not lose face in the affair, since he had finally started working well with the First Nations people after his rough start.

Her father also voiced a complaint. One of the men in his workforce had mentioned that bow season for deer hunting was beginning on September 1 this year, and the rifle season would be October 6. More than half of his men would be away during that time, leaving Dale with a skeleton crew, if any, not to mention losing two to four weeks of time on the building projects he was working on.

“You have to understand their culture,” River said. “Hunting and fishing are a part of the First Nations way of life. You can’t expect them to work to a schedule based on the white culture all the time.”

“But I have deadlines to meet,” Dale moaned.

“It sounds like you aren’t going to meet them if all your workers are off hunting deer. My suggestion is that you don’t fight it. Join them. Close the project down for a week when the seasons start, and in return they all agree to come back after a week.”

“Yeah, but that means we work two weeks less. Are you going to be happy if you still have to sleep in a tent into November? I know your mother won’t.”

“What day does Sept. 1 fall?” River asked.

“It’s a Friday,” Alison said, looking at her calendar. “And it looks like October 6 is a Friday as well.”

“Then you will lose six days, not just a week,” River said. “The men won’t show up until the following Monday. That gives them at least 10 days hunting with each of the two seasons. What if they were to work weekends to make up the time? If they worked Saturday and Sunday for the next two weeks, and then for three weeks in between the seasons, you won’t be delayed. Plus, the workers won’t lose any wages. You could even keep their pay going during the off weeks if they have already put in their hours.”

Dale mulled it over. “That might work. They get their hunting in, and I keep on schedule. Do you think they would be willing to work weekends?”

“I think they will,” River said. “The Monday to Friday thing is white culture again, and most of them ignore it. They do other jobs on the weekends. I had a pile of them volunteering to get the store ready the past few weeks.”

“Well I’m not in favor,” Alison said. “I don’t want my husband working seven days a week until the house is finished. It isn’t fair.”

“Of course not,” River said. “He needs to take the two breaks off when the men are away. Close the project down totally. It will be a good rest for you. In fact, you should take Mark out hunting.”

“My son is only 10,” Alison huffed. “He is not firing guns. Or even going into the forest when others are shooting guns off.”

“Yeah, and I’m not much of a hunter anyway,” Dale said.

“I was thinking of the bow season,” River said. “Hasn’t he been out with Tall John a lot lately?”

“Almost constantly,” Alison admitted. “Since Paul left Mark has been with Tall John almost every day. He has been learning bow and arrow stuff. He was bragging the other day that he had made his own bow, and Tall John was going to teach him how to make arrows and stone arrowheads.” She smiled. “I like Tall John. It is like he has adopted Mark as the grandson he never had. And Mark adores him. He’s with him now. He said they would be ‘eating wild’ if they caught anything, so I guess that’s why he isn’t here looking for supper. I think there is a whole group of boys out there now.”

“All for the best,” River said. “It would be good for Dad to spend some father-son time with Mark. School starts on Tuesday of the next week, but that would still give you guys four days together in the bush. I don’t know if you can get a deer or not. With the two of you your limit would be two. More if you get Tall John as a guide, because there is no limit for First Nations members. I think you would have fun.”

“Yeah, it does sound like fun,” Dale said. “What about the second week?”

“I get you then,” Alison said quickly. “I need work done on my offices, and I was hoping to be able to get you for a stretch. Nick and I have got a lot of preparatory work done on the credit union. We will have a big meeting to elect the officers and make it official later this week. I’ve booked the gym at the high school.”

“Who can be a member?” River asked.

“Anyone over the age of 18 can be a voting member. Younger people can hold accounts though, so you will be able to participate that way. We have been toying with the official name “St. Mary’s and Ojibwe First Nations Credit Union” although that will have to be confirmed at the meeting. We need both the town and reserve working together to make this a success. I hope to get three townspeople and four reserve elders on the initial board, although the ratio could change. I really want the reserve to feel this is their credit union.”

In the afternoon River found eight more new First Nations people at the river at 4 p.m. Three were from Stone Ledge, and the other family was from Crow Crossing Reservation, about an hour to the east. They had heard about the river through the Internet videos of the totem and the Goldberg machine, and had taken a day off and brought the whole family. After River’s session with them they were enthused at having learned Ojibwe and the history of the people, and promised to tell others in their reserve to come and visit.

While talking to them, a convoy of two luxury cars and a van fitted out for the handicapped rolled up to the river. There were five scientists or doctors, Dr. Mitchell, and another five people in the van, along with three nurses or orderlies. As her new First Nations friends said goodbye, Dr. Mitchell walked up and spoke to River.

“These are the people I told you about,” he said. “We are hoping you can show us some of your magic.” Several of the scientists snorted at the word ‘magic’.

“The river is free for all to enjoy,” River said hesitantly. “I have some First Nations healing experience, but I don’t know that I can help you at all with this. I’ll just stand to the side and watch, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay Fred, show us what to do,” one of the older scientists said. “You claimed that this river cured you. How did it do it?”

“I just stood in the middle of the river with River, the girl. I started to feel better immediately, and over the next few hours I felt better and better. When I was tested back at the hospital, there were no traces of cancer.”

“Hours?” one of the younger doctors snapped. “This is going to take hours?”

“Oh, which cancer treatment do you know of that takes less than an hour?” River couldn’t resist sniping. The man went silent, and the older man ordered the patients into the river.

A nurse stepped in first, and immediately jumped out of the water. “That is ice cold,” she said. “We can’t put the patients in there.”

“Poppycock,” the older doctor said. “I just saw that young girl in there with that whole group of Indians.”

“We prefer the term First Nations,” River said, moving back into the water. “I have the ability to stand in the water for hours on end. Your patients will find it cold at first, but in time it can be bearable.”

The patients entered the river, with the water moderated a bit, although it was still extremely cold. There were four older patients, aged 70 or 80, three men and a woman. The fifth patient was younger, a woman about 40. River started getting a feeling from the river as soon as she entered the water.

She is Dawn Winter, an author and mother of a 14-year-old girl, the river explained. She is terrified that the cancer will take her, and leave her child alone in the world. Her husband, the father, died when the girl was only two, and the woman took up her writing to support them.

Dawn Winter, River thought. Where had she heard that name? After a second it came to her. Her friend back in Toronto, Ricky’s friend actually, Lisa Stromen had a bookshelf in her room with more than a dozen books on it with the name Dawn Winter on the spine. The woman was the favorite author of her old friend.

She merits saving, the river said. The others are old and have lived their lives. But the woman, and her daughter, deserve more. I will save her.

Not now, River suggested to the river. I don’t want those men to think that this river can cure people. They will have thousands coming and destroying your beautiful natural wonders. Can you allow me to talk to her, without the others hearing?

Yes. Think thoughts to her, and she will hear.

The other patients were already scrambling out of the river, trying to get away from the cold, and the younger woman also started towards the bank when River called out to her mentally. Dawn, she said. The woman turned back and stared at River. Yes. It is me. The river can, and will cure you, but not now. Not today. I know that when you get back, those guys will come up with some other treatment for you. A drug or chemo or something. As soon as they start you on it, come back here, without telling them. The river will cure you, and they will think it is the other treatment. We can’t have the river and our people inundated with thousands hoping for a cancer cure. But the river has chosen you, if you do this.

“Come on, Mrs. Winter,” one of the orderlies said. “Get out of that cold water. This was a fool’s errand. Imagine, standing in an icy river as a cure for cancer. If we hurry we can get back to the hospital before it is too dark.”

In the next few minutes the group got into their vehicles. River gave a look of ‘I’m sorry,’ to Dr. Mitchell, but she had warned him that nothing would happen. He looked embarrassed to ride back with all the others, who were already teasing him about faith-healers and medicine men.

The next day Rod, Ria and Shelly headed off to visit two reservations to the west. Since they couldn’t go by canoe to these places, Kyle had found a camper top back in his scrapyard, and it was now on Rod’s truck, and Kyle and George had built another entire pickup from parts, and Kyle had designed a special unit for the back. It opened out into a trailer, like those tent trailers that were popular in the past.

Rod’s camper was just a cap that covered a mattress on the truck bed, but this one could be set up as a full tent where all four of the Prophet’s crew could sit under canvas and eat, even if it was raining. They shouldn’t need the feature often, since most trips in the next few months would be an hour or two away at most, and the band they were visiting would host them. But it was a neat feature, and designing it was sufficiently cool to spark Kyle’s interests. River decided to have pictures of it taken and placed on the website after they returned. It could be another good product for the reserve to sell online. Of course, when the group started longer trips after Christmas, then the camper feature would become more important, unless by then they got to use Nick’s RV.

There was an addition to the crew now. Marilyn could no longer be a singer, having been promoted to the full-time position as mother to Beloved. The river had chosen a replacement, Jennifer Cedarbow, a woman Ria had gone to school with. She turned out to have a voice that harmonized perfectly with Shelly. Shelly missed having her sister around, but quickly bonded with the older girl during the few rehearsal sessions before the trip.

Also new was that the high school had provided them with a stack of 50 ‘intent to enroll’ slips to be filled out by any students who wished to come to St. Mary’s high school. The principal assumed that the stack would last for several months. Rod was just happy that there would be enough to last for the trip. Their first destination was Moose Portage Reserve, which was even bigger than the local reservation. Then they would head off to a smaller place called Copper Stone Reservation. They planned on a day at each, with the option of staying a second day if they were invited to.

April Audette had put together a 15-minute video about the town and reservation, featuring the river and including clips of a Sunday service in the river. The Rube Goldberg machine, which had been nicknamed ‘The Rube’ locally, was featured prominently, and there were clips of the high school, which would look massive to the teens from reserve, although tiny compared to the big high schools in Sudbury and Thunder Bay that their parents and older siblings may have attended.

There was no big ceremony for this departure. River was there, along with Kyle, who had brought the new camper-truck in and had shown Shelly and Jennifer how to set it up. He then handed the keys to the truck to Shelly. Just as they were packed up and ready to go, Silver the wolf loped into the clearing, sat down in front of Rod’s truck and howled.

Ria laughed, and then opened the door to the truck, so that the wolf could sit on the bench seat between Rod and her. Except that once inside, Silver wormed his way back to the window and forced Ria to the middle, so that he could stick his snout out the window as they drove off.

The next day, River came to the river with a small parcel. She had a complete sewing kit that she had bought up at the store, along with a collection of beads and sequins. The river had complained the morning before that she needed something to keep her occupied when she was sitting in the water for hours each morning, and suggested she learn sewing and beadwork.

She brought one of her less ornate denim midi dresses, planning to do some beadwork on it. As well, she had a pair of Mark’s jeans that had been completely demolished in his hunting and archery work with Tall John. A second pair had somehow torn down the inseam as well. She hoped to be able to make one good pair out of the two, which her mother had said were beyond her repair.

That morning River spent a half hour with the river, getting caught up, and then it told her to get her supplies. She sat under the water, completely submersed, and used her knife to unstitch the worse pair of pants to make patches. Then she started to sew the tear up on the other pair, and soon was making good time hand-stitching the inseam back into place. She added patches to the knees, which were feeling quite thin, and then added five additional pockets to the legs, so Mark could store his knife and other tools. The river suggested the design, and River merely sewed. And she sewed well, too. The river imparted the skills needed to her, and after the first few minutes she was sewing rapidly and precisely, with stitches evenly sized and close spaced. She realized that it was hard to see where the machine-sewn parts of the stitching ended, and her stitching began.

She even had an hour just before dawn to do some beadwork on her skirt, and started on a design of Night, the wolf that hung around Wayne. She had quite a bit of it done in an hour, but then an idea hit her and she spent a few minutes completely removing all her handiwork, leaving the dress as plain as it had been when she brought it.

She went back to the family camp and was surprised to see that Mark was up before his parents. Apparently Tall John had told him that sleeping in mornings was not the way warriors acted. When he saw his sister had repaired his beloved old jeans, Mark gave out a whoop. When he discovered all the other pockets that she had sewn into the legs, he whooped again.

“What’s all that racket?” Alison said as she stuck her head out of the tent she shared with Dale, who could be heard moving about inside.

“Mom, River fixed my jeans. They are even better than before.”

Alison took the jeans from her son and looked at the stitchery on them. “This is really good work, River,” she said. “Whose machine did you use?”

“No machine. Just a needle and some sturdy red thread,” River said.

“Really? This looks machine-made. How did you learn to do this?” Mark snatched the jeans from her and went back into his tent to change out of the stiff new jeans he had thought he had to wear today.

“The river, of course,” River said. “I was kinda shaky at first, but soon I got the knack and was able to go pretty fast.”

“Well, you are now the official seamstress for this family,” Alison said. “I suck at sewing, and hate it. Now that I am a lowly credit union manager instead of a Royal Bank manager, I won’t be able to just throw things out when they get a rip or something. Now you can mend them for me.”

“No problem,” River said. “I have a lot of time in the river each morning, and I’m planning to take up beadwork too. I started on a project today, but changed tack midstream and plan to start over again tomorrow. I’ll go into town with you this morning. There are some more things I need to get at the store.”

In town River got more supplies from the Darrin Hooper’s general store, noticing that the place looked busier than it had in the past. She ran into Ben Stormcloud at the store, and he offered her a ride back to the reservation. She decided it was time that she got her daily dose of Luv, so asked Ben to drop her at his place, or Marilyn’s RV to be more specific.

When they got there they found that Nick had left, but copious amounts of giggling and high-pitched squealing were coming from the RV. She entered to find that Marilyn had a gaggle of young girls thronging about. Liesl and Carla were in the forefront, along with several other girls who looked to be Liesl’s age, although one was her younger sister Marta, and another girl of Marta’s age. Ben claimed Luv from Carla, and gave her a cuddle.

“Dad, I’m glad you are here. We all need a ride over to Old Fred Rivermark’s house,” Marilyn said. Can you cart this lot over in the back of the truck?”

“Fred’s place? That’s been sitting empty since he died last year.”

“Almost two years now,” Marilyn said. “The band council said that Neil Audette could have it. But it is a mess, and this lot seems to think that being a mother is just fun and holding babies. I’ve challenged them to help me clean the place up for Neil, since he is alone now.”

“That place is a mess, and needs a ton of work,” Ben said. “Hang on while I get my tools, and some scrap wood from the shed. Neil’s going to need help fixing the place up, let alone getting it clean. That’s a task I will leave to you.”

Less than an hour later the truck pulled up to a dilapidated cottage with the former Stone Ledge member on a ladder working at trying to repair the front porch. River had decided to help out, and had come along, sitting in the cab with Marilyn and Luv while the girls sat on the lumber Ben had piled in the back.

“What’s all this about?” Neil said clearly confused as a half dozen squealing preteens piled off of the bed of the truck.

“We are here to help,” Marilyn said. “Even your little granddaughter is here to see her grandpa’s new house.” She handed the baby to Neil, who again got tears in his eyes, along with a huge smile.

“I wanted to get the place cleaned up a bit before inviting you all over,” he said, bouncing the happily gurgling infant on his shoulder. “It’s not a fit place for a baby, not yet.”

“That is why we are here,” Marilyn said. “We girls will start to clean up the place inside, and dad is going to help you on the repairs.”

Neil choked up. “Twenty-seven years I lived up in Stone Ledge and not once did anyone other than kin come by to help out. Now, my first day here and all you lot come by to help. It’s your doing, isn’t it?” He directed the latter to River.

“Nope. It is all your new daughter’s doing,” River said, nodding at Marilyn.

“My daughter?” Neil looked confused.

“Well, if my daughter is your granddaughter, then you must be my second father,” Marilyn said. “I call the big lunk over at the truck ‘Dad’, but if you want, you can be ‘Poppa’.”

Neil was fighting hard to keep the tears back. “I’d be honored if you would call me that. I lost a daughter last week, and nothing will ever replace her. But if I am to gain a new daughter, I’m glad it is you.” He sniffled. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to get to work again. I seem to have something in my eye.”

The girls worked hard for the rest of the day. At least hard for pre-teens. Marilyn started off by telling them that they would get half-hour long shifts looking after the baby, with the girl who was working the hardest getting first chance. That certainly motivated them. Marta got first shift with Luv, as the new aunt, since her older sister Liesl had many other opportunities in the past. At the end of the first half hour, when the girls wanted to know who was next with the baby Marilyn announced that River had been working hardest, to a chorus of groans.

“Don’t worry,” River said. “She is teasing. But I think I know who gets the baby next, although I don’t know if it is a blessing or a curse. I smell a certain aroma that tells me that Luv needs a new diaper. Carla has been scraping the kitchen floor for the past half-hour without complaining once. Do you want the job?”

“Yes please,” the older girl said, pulling off a soiled apron. “And changing her will be a pleasure. Liesl and Marilyn showed me how the other day.”

At noon Helen Stormcloud pulled up in the family’s second car, carrying a feast of hot dogs for the girls, as well as bowls of chili and biscuits for the adults. After an hour break, while Helen got her Luv cuddles in as the others ate hungrily, the crew went back to work. It was nearly five when they finally stopped working, and Neil came inside to inspect.

He found a clean and tidy place that Marilyn said was now fit for Luv to visit. Nearly a dozen garbage bags of old litter and newspapers were outside, ready to be carted to the dump and recycle centers, as well as boxes of bottles and tins, also ready to recycle. Floors and walls had been washed, and the kitchen cupboards were lined with paper and ready for supplies.

“You need to get to the store to buy supplies,” Marilyn said. “You don’t have anything in the cupboards or the fridge. You need to stock up.”

“That will have to wait a few days until my first welfare check comes in,” Neil admitted.

“Nonsense,” Ben announced, pulling out his wallet and peeling off twenties. After five he looked at Marilyn, who shook her head until he peeled off three more. He handed them to Neil, who took them in shock.

“I can’t keep these,” Neil stammered, nearly speechless. “I mean I already owe you for a pile of wood that you brought over, and a day’s labor.”

Ben laughed his hearty laugh. “It is a loan, not a gift. You need money now, and I know you are good for it. You will be getting a check from Stone Ledge in a few days for your share of the house. Pay me back then. The wood is a gift. And we don’t keep track of labor down here. I know that if I need help you will be there for me.”

“You people are just so good. I don’t deserve this.”

“And you seem to be getting something in your eye again,” Marilyn noted. “Tell you what. You drive River and I to the store with you and we will help you pick up a few things. The store should be open for at least another half hour. Then you will come to dinner at our place tonight. I’ll not have my new father eating alone on his first night in his new home.”

“What about us?” Carla said.

“Dad will drive you home.”

“But tomorrow. We want to come back tomorrow.”

“Well, you can all come over for a bit in the morning. It just won’t be all day. You have your own families who will want to see you occasionally. Now scoot.” With that she and River got into Neil’s truck, with Luv, while the girls headed off giggling with Ben.

“That is quite a crew you have amassed,” River said as they drove. Neil was quiet, still bothered by that something in his eye, but the girls chatted and Luv cooed.

“Yeah, they seem to appear every morning with one or two more each day. I suspect the numbers will be smaller tomorrow, after we made them work all day.”

“I don’t know,” River said. “They seemed to be enjoying themselves. And they were certainly learning something. It is funny how doing chores at home is deadly boring, but doing the same thing with friends is fun. I wonder …”

“You are thinking again. I can tell,” Marilyn laughed.

“I think that you should form a club for those girls. Something like Girl Guides (the Canadian version of Girl Scouts). They could have fun, and learn interesting things. And at the very least you will train a few babysitters you can trust Luv with as she gets older.”

“That sounds promising,” Marilyn said. “Luv is a handful right now, but once I get the hang of things I know it isn’t going to be a full-time job. But I don’t want to take part time work away from someone else that really needs it. The ones without rich lawyer husbands. And when Shelly left on her latest trip, I kinda felt left out and useless. A club for girls might be what I need to keep active.”

“Plus if you organize it, you will be able to control it better,” River said. “They will probably hound you daily for the next week, until school starts, but after that you can schedule it. Maybe one evening each week, between school and supper. That will allow you to control it better.”

“What would we call it? Girl Scouts is used already, and it really isn’t a scouting thing. It will be more of a girls club. Like Young Mothers or something.”

“What about Ojibwe Princesses?” River asked. “Every girl wants to be a princess. I know that Tall John has started a group with the boys and they are calling themselves the Young Warriors. Learning archery, bow and arrow making, traditional hunting and trapping and such.”

“Oooh, that sounds good too,” Marilyn said. “I want to join that. I wonder how many girls will try to get into it.”

“Not many, if I read Tall John correctly. He isn’t into women’s liberation, and I don’t think he would take girls into his group. And you probably won’t get many boys wanting into your group. The interest in a baby does not seem to cross gender lines.”

“You know, River,” Marilyn said thoughtfully. “What we need to do is to build a Ginny’s House here. A place for the young people to meet.”

“Wow. That is a great idea. Let’s put together a presentation for the band council for their next meeting. They will have to give us land for it, and maybe they can even put some money into building costs.”

Okay, here it is. I got my comments on the last story, so you all get your free second chapter. I hope to have another chapter for you by next weekend. (Enjoy, and comment if you wish).

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 27

So far: River came up with a solution that will keep Dale from losing most of his workforce during deer season, in a way that will please Mark. The river refused to cure the cancer victims who come to it, with one possible exception. The prophet headed off to visit two more reserves, and River has a new hobby, sewing. Finally, Marilyn finds another project, and plans start for Ginny’s House II.

The next morning River spent most of her time at the river doing beadwork. She had bought a large denim-colored cotton shirt at Hooper’s store, as well as additional beads in the colors she wanted. She spent over three hours sewing, and was pleased with the work when she stopped for the day. She considered that she was more than half finished and decided that she should be able to complete it the next morning. She thought briefly about trying to get some more done in her afternoon session in the river, but realized that there probably wouldn’t be time.

There was always a small group at the river at four: First Nations people from other reserves who had heard about the river. Pretty much everyone from Stone Ledge had been down by now, and now some had come in from Moose Portage. They said Rod had spoken to them the day before, and his group had stayed over for an additional day, and two families had been curious enough about the river to make the trip in.

After she left the river that afternoon, she found a new tent at the family campsite. It was a bit larger than her parents’. There was also a new truck in the drive. Well, new for a reserve truck, being only 10 years old or so. It was beaten up enough to be a reserve truck though. The box, in particular, was pretty much shredded.

“River, come over,” her father called from the fire pit, where a hefty man was sitting with Alison and him. “Meet Chip Wilson, an old friend of mine and one of the best stone masons in the province.”

“Not any more,” Mr. Wilson said, holding up a gnarled right hand, crippled with arthritis after having been smashed between stones too many times. “I can’t even swing a hammer anymore. I don’t know why your old man wanted me to come up here. But he said deer season starts early up here, and that was good enough for me. I can fire a crossbow with my good hand, and then when rifle season hits I will be out there with the best of them.”

“You may not be able to swing a hammer anymore, Chip,” Dale said. “But you know more about stone than anyone else in the province. I’ll find you some apprentices to swing the hammers and lift the stones. I just want you to build me some of your spectacular fireplaces for the houses I’m building.”

“They are beautiful houses,” Chip said. “Those timber cathedral ceilings are a perfect setting for stone fireplaces. It will be crazy expensive to buy the stone for them, but your Dad seems to think that the stuff grows on trees for free around here.”

“Not on trees,” River said. “But there is a lot of loose stone lying around this place. And there’s more not far below the earth, if you want to dig it out. How many apprentices do you think you will need?”

“Four maybe,” Chip said. “I need to get good workers though. Smart is good, but willing to work on when your shoulders are aching is more important.”

“Strong too, I would expect,” River said.

“That isn’t as important,” Chip countered. “I mean, I don’t want weaklings or anything. But the job itself will build up the strength in the boys.”

“Can you bring him to the meeting place before work tomorrow morning?” River asked her father. “I’ll let the word out that there are a few good jobs that will be open then.”

When the next dawn rolled around River was in a good mood. She had finished her project earlier in the morning, and now there had to about 30 boys, and two girls, standing on the bank waiting for Chip to arrive. She addressed the group.

“Thanks for coming by. I wasn’t expecting so many. Chip will only need three or four of you, so I don’t want anyone to be upset if they aren’t chosen. The river itself will choose, although Mr. Wilson will have final say. I don’t want anyone who isn’t chosen to think that this means you are less capable. The river is just going to pick a team that it feels will work with Mr. Wilson. The ones chosen will get good jobs. There won’t be much money at first. You are apprentices after all, and part of what you are being paid in is knowledge. You will learn how to craft stone, and if any of you get half as good at it as Mr. Wilson, then you will always be able to make a good living.”

“Here they come now,” River said. “I need to take Mr. Wilson into the river first, so if you want to sit down for a bit and wait, feel free.”

“These are all here for jobs?” Chip said as he approached River.

“Yes. Good jobs, particularly ones working outdoors and with natural materials are in demand up here. I think Dad has a waiting list of 30 for carpenters at the job site. Can you come with me into the river, Mr. Martin?”

“Really? Oh, it is cold.”

“It warms up pretty fast,” River said, leading the older man out into the water. Soon they were both chest deep.

“It feels kinda good,” Chip remarked as he felt the river drift by him.

“Yes. Right now it is just reading you, and finding out what you are like. Then it will choose the boys … people … who are most suited to work with you.”

“It will choose? Humpf. I’ve always chosen my own people.”

“You have the right to overrule it. But be aware that the river will know what you are looking for: a willingness to work, if I got it right last night. The river will pick people who have the abilities you want. It knows these people well.”

“What if it chooses girls? I’ve never worked with a female mason.”

“Would that be a problem?”

“No, I guess not. Someone skinny like you wouldn’t work out, but those two looked like hefty girls out there. If they could handle the grunt work, they have the right to do the job, I guess. They’d have to be tough enough to handle the teasing that girls on a job site always get.”

“Okay, the river has a good idea of what you want, so I’m going to start bringing the others into the water, about five at a time. You probably won’t notice, because the river is going to teach you about the rocks and stones that are around here. You will kinda zone out, and when you come back, you will know more about this area, in terms of the stones, than even the people who have lived here all their lives.”

River started bringing people into the river, five at a time. It didn’t take the river more than 10 seconds to evaluate the candidates, and then had River send them back to the bank. Some were asked to stay around, but most were sent home, including both the girls. Eventually there were eight left, and River brought them all back into the water, where they formed a semicircle around Chip. Suddenly his eyes fluttered open, and he gasped.

“Wow,” he said. “That was some trip. I haven’t experienced anything like that since my LSD days in high school. Are these the candidates?”

“Yes. The river sent the others home. All the girls too. The river found them eager, and hard workers, but didn’t feel they could meet your needs for physical labor. These could all do the job, and the river has ranked them. We do need to know if you want four, or another number.”

“Holy shit,” Chip swore, raising his right hand up in front of his face. “My hand! It is whole again.”

River smiled. The gnarled arthritic claw she had seen the night before was gone, replaced by a strong, healthy looking hand. “Yes. Sometimes the river gives people a gift. I think your hand was cured by it.”

“Well, if I can work it like before, then I only need three apprentices. Any more and it gets to be hard finding them things to do. I thought I would need them for hammer work. Now that I can do that myself, three will be lots.”

“The river recommends Peter Stoneman, Paul Stoneman, and Martin Stoneman,” River said, and the three boys at the end of the line turned and high-fived each other, while the others started to make their way to the bank.

“Wait,” River said to the departing boys. “Mr. Martin has to confirm the river’s decision.”

“There is no way I am going to contradict this river if it gave me my hand back. Thanks to all of you for coming, and if something else opens up, I’ll have River let you know.”

“These boys are brothers, as you may have guessed,” River said. “Peter is oldest at 22, Paul is 20, and the big one there is the baby, Martin, aged 18 and just out of school.”

“Glad to have you aboard,” Chip said. “Do you boys hunt?” All three nodded yes.

“Well, we aren’t going to get to work until after bow season. But if you three don’t have other plans, then I’d be honored to hunt with you. It will give us a good chance to bond together. I was going to go out with Dale, but I think he needs the time with his son, and he was only going to go for four days. I want the full two weeks.”

Some of the boys did have other plans for going out with friends, but none that they wouldn’t change for a chance to go out with the master mason, and get a chance to see what he was like in a non-work situation. The boys left and River, Chip, and her dad were alone at the river.

“Miss,” Chip turned to River. “I don’t know how you did this.” He waved his hand, “but I am so grateful. And I need to tell you about something that the river told me as it was teaching me about the rocks and minerals in the area. It is pretty big.”

Mark was up almost as early as River on Friday morning. He had to haul Dale out of his cot at 5 a.m., an hour before sunrise. They had a breakfast of sandwiches that Alison had prepared for them the night before as they walked along in the dark, carrying an ice chest full of food as well as all their other gear. Between the two of them, there was nearly 100 pounds of weight, but with Mark’s near-adult size and extra strength, they managed. They could hear other early risers who were also walking along, with flashlights shining here and there. Many more natives had left in pickup trucks to hunt in more distant areas. Chip and his new staff would be out here somewhere, Dale thought.

He followed his son. Mark had spent the past few days with Tall John, searching for deer runs. Mark had a particular buck that he had wanted to find. He had seen a hoof print on a trail with Tall John, and the old hunter had estimated the animal at over 300 pounds. Mark wanted to shoot that buck.

They camped about a quarter mile from the deer run Mark wanted, merely dumping their gear so that they could be at the run before the deer started moving out in the pre-dawn. They could erect tents later. Deer hunting was an early morning game, Tall John had said, and Mark was certain they had their best chance then.

He set Dale up in one position, and then moved along to another position himself, about 50 yards away, far enough that his father would not be tempted to talk to him. Mark spent four hours waiting, and saw several deer. Most were does or yearlings, and Tall John said a real hunter never shot those, unless faced with starvation. A bigger buck stopped and paused for a few minutes near Dale’s position, and Mark refrained from shooting it. It was an easy shot for Dale, but a tricky one for Mark at his greater distance. Eventually the deer moved on without a shot being fired.

When he judged it was too late in the morning to do anything, Mark got up and wandered over to Dale’s position. He found out why his dad hadn’t shot the buck when he found him sound asleep using his bow as a rough pillow.

“See any deer?” Mark asked.

“Not a one. You?”

“Yes. There was a nice stag grazing just a couple yards away from you a couple hours ago. It’s a good thing he didn’t wander any further or he might have woken you up.”

“Oh Mark,” Dale said. “I’m sorry. I guess I nodded off. I worked a full day yesterday and didn’t get to sleep as early as you did. I’ll do better tomorrow.”

“That’s okay Dad. I know you older fellows need your sleep,” Mark teased. “Let’s go and set up camp. We’ll come back this afternoon at about 4 to see if we can catch that fellow on his way home.”

They spent several hours setting up camp, and making a good lunch. They would be hunting again over supper, and only getting back to camp in the evening after dusk.

For the afternoon hunt, Mark positioned his father closer to him, warning him to only communicate with sign language. They hunkered down and waited for the sun to get lower in the sky. They got lucky. At dusk a buck (Mark was sure it was the same one as he had seen near his father earlier) came down the path. This time Mark could see that his father was alert and aiming his bow. Dale pulled, loosed, and watched his arrow fly a foot over the deer. Then he saw a second arrow strike the animal, entering its chest. Mark had made the kill.

The animal took four steps, and then fell to the ground. Mark was up like a shot, aiming to put the deer out of its misery with a knife to the throat, but he found the animal was already dead.

“What do we do now?” Dale said as he caught up with his son.

“Well, if River was here you’d have to carry the deer to the river so she could cure it. But since it is just us, we need to clean it and skin it.”

“I kinda hope you know how to do all that, because I don’t have a clue,” Dale said.

“I’ve never done it before,” Mark admitted, “but Tall John told me how to do it, and I have skinned and cleaned smaller animals. I think I can do it.”

Mark then proceeded to skin and dress the animal, making a small pile of the bones and entrails, while the meat was packed into the cooler that they had brought half packed with ice. The deer yielded over 100 pounds of meat. Mark figured that Tall John would have probably gotten more out of it, but he was pleased.

The head was kept separate. It was a 10-point buck, and Mark wondered if there was someone on the reserve who did taxidermy to have it mounted as his first stag.

“What do we do with all this?” Dale asked about the pile of entrails.

‘We leave it for the wolves,” Mark said. “They will strip the bones fairly clean, and then smaller animals will eat what is left. After that mice and other rodents will chew on the bones for the calcium. Everything will be gone in a week.”

The men, for now that he had a kill, Mark considered himself a man, each carried a side of the cooler back to the camp, with the deer head balanced on top of it. “You got plans for that?” Dale said as they walked.

“I’d like to get it mounted,” Mark said. “Do you think Mom would let us hang it in the new house?”

“Hah, like she will have a say,” Dale said. “Your first kill? It will be in the living room for sure. One of the guys in my team does taxidermy in his spare time. I don’t know if he is any good or not, but his fine carpentry skills are excellent, so I bet he is. You can take it to him if you like.”

They took two big venison steaks out, and were frying them on a campfire as darkness fell. A few minutes later the three Stoneman boys marched into camp, followed by Chip Wilson.

“Company Dad,” Mark called. “Get four more steaks out.”

“Many thanks,” Chip said, slumping down at the fire. “The old man got lucky, did he?”

“Old man,” Dale snorted. “It was the young buck that made the kill. Although I think my arrow might have scared him into submission.”

“So are you heading back tomorrow?” Chip asked. “That meat won’t keep until Monday.”

“I guess so,” Dale said, looking at Mark.

“I think we will try again in the morning,” Mark said. “That wasn’t the buck I was hoping to get. Dad and I can each take one, so maybe we’ll get lucky again.”

“I like your bow,” Martin Stoneman noted, looking at Mark’s gear. “It looks handmade. Like the ones that Tall John makes.”

“It is handmade,” Mark said proudly. “By me, although Tall John showed me how, and helped. I did the arrows too. He is teaching me how to do flint now, but says it will be months before I am good enough to make flint arrowheads that work. But we made the arrows and put commercial steel heads on them.”

“That is so cool,” Martin said. “I wish I had learned stuff like that. You are lucky to have found an elder who is into teaching the young ones. You are only 16, right?”

“No, I will be 11 in six weeks,” Mark admitted. “The river kinda made me big for my age.”

“Wow, I’ll say,” Peter said. “You aren’t as big as Marty, but you will be in a couple years. And he’s a giant.”

“Shut up,” Martin said, pushing at his older, but smaller, brother.

The visitors spent an hour at Mark’s camp, and then wandered off to find their own in the dark. Mark and Dale went to bed knowing they would have to be up early the next morning if they wanted to get another shot at a buck.

Before sunup they were in position again, about 800 yards from the site of their last kill. This proved to be lucky, as they could see a massive buck approaching from the north, at an angle that would have never have neared the original site. The wind was also from the north, so there was a chance that the buck wouldn’t scent them. They waited as it ambled closer and closer. It was a massive beast, well over 300 pounds with beautiful 20-point antlers. Mark signaled ‘mine’ to his father. He didn’t want to see a missed shot spook this huge creature.

The stag got to within 40 feet, and then paused. Mark sensed that it was about to bolt and let loose with an arrow that struck the beast in the chest. It didn’t even twitch, falling dead on the forest floor.

“Geeze Mark, that was terrific,” his dad said. “What a beast! I’m going to have to take lessons or something. That is a massive adrenaline rush, isn’t it?”

They skinned and cleaned the second, bigger animal, and packed it up with their baggage. They carted all the extra food they had brought with them to Chip’s nearby camp to make room in the cooler. Those four were all off hunting, so Dale left a note saying that they had gotten lucky again, and all the tins of food were gifts. That made it possible, barely, to get all the venison into a cooler. Again Mark and Dale walked off on either side of the cooler, with the new stag’s head on top. The first head was discarded. It was absolutely puny compared to the new one. Mark also had the two untreated deer pelts strapped to his backpack, and really was laden down. He refused to let his dad do any more than help with the cooler as they walked back into the camp to surprise Alison, who was not expecting them until Monday.

Does anyone here have an objection to me posting these chapters twice weekly? I’m looking at Wednesdays and Saturdays, but reserve the right to go a day or so later if I (or Eric) need more time on occasion. I have written up to Chapter 34, and seem to be able to write two a week. I now have the full tale in view, and it will run between 40 and 50 chapters (I know what I want to cover, but don’t now how many of the remaining scenes will result in two or more chapters). And yes, there will be standalone sequels revisiting the river and its people.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 28 – A New Dawn

So far: Dale introduced a stone mason to his family, and River and the river helped him choose apprentices. Then Dale took Mark out hunting, or was it the other way around?

On Friday night, while Dale and Mark were still at their camp, in between hunts, River got up as usual at 2 a.m. and went to the river. She had been in there for about two hours when she looked up and found, to her surprise, a taxi from Sudbury Yellow Cab pulled up at the river. She waded out of the water and opened the door, to find a sobbing young girl and an older woman, who River barely recognized as Dawn Winter, the author who had been among the cancer patients a week ago. The woman was huddled in a fetal position, and looked closer to 70 than 40.

“I think she is dying,” the young girl said, and River had to agree. “I’m Cindy, her daughter. She insisted on coming here, but couldn’t drive here herself. I paid this guy $600 already, but the meter is crazy high. River glanced at the taxi meter. It read $1981.07.

“Look,” River said to the cabby. “You’ve had a long drive. We aren’t going anywhere. Why don’t you curl up and take a nap, while the three of us wade in the river for a bit. You can sleep here, or at the truck stop on the highway, where they have food. Ask anyone for River and they will get me for you.” She turned to the girl. “We have to get her out of here, and to the river. Can you help?”

Between the two of them, they managed to get Dawn to the river. She didn’t react at all to the water, although Cindy had the normal reaction to the initial cold. They continued to move with River until they were in the middle of the river.

“Is she going to be okay?” Cindy sobbed. “I kept worrying that she was going to die in the cab. She told me the river said it could cure her. I don’t know what that means. That was before her last chemo, which really made her sick. At four this afternoon she told me to call a cab and take out the emergency money to pay for it. I told the driver he would get more here. I hope that’s all right.”

“Yes it is,” River said calmingly. “I don’t know if she is going to be all right yet. Usually I know immediately, once someone is in the water. But this is serious. What did they do to her?”

“They called it Super Chemo, I think. She was way better before they did this to her.”

“Yes, it kind of messes up my plan, too,” River said. “Oh, the river just told me she is going to be okay. It’s going to take a few hours though. Are you brave?”

“Yes. I will do anything for my mom.”

“Okay Cindy. My name is River, by the way. What I am going to ask you to do will sound weird, but it will save your Mom’s life. I want you to sit down with me and her on the floor of the river.”

“We can’t breathe underwater,” Cindy cried.

“Yes we can, and the river will be able to cure your Mom better if she is completely in the water. I’m going to drop down, and take your Mom with me. You drop down as soon as you can.”

River dropped, and to the amazement the girl could see her and the unconscious Dawn moving about in the clear water by the moonlight reflecting down. After a minute or two Cindy took a deep breath, and dropped down too. She held her breath as long as possible, and when she felt she needed air, was about to pop up. But River grabbed her arm, and she breathed out. Then in. She found she could breathe underwater, just like River had said.

Cindy looked closer at her mother and River, and saw that each had a good size bubble of air around their nose and mouth. The bubble didn’t seem to want to rise to the surface. When they breathed in, the bubble shrunk, and when they exhaled, it grew back to its full size. And then she realized she had a similar bubble, and when she breathed in found that the air was fresh. The river was feeding good air in and recharging the old, stale air.

Cindy looked at her Mom, and decided that she was already looking better. She was breathing easily now, and looked more like she had before taking the Super Chemo.

It is going to take a couple hours for the river to just get all that junk out of her system, ” Cindy heard. She looked at River, and realized that the girl was talking to her somehow.

We can talk underwater too? she asked.

It isn’t really talking, but we can communicate. This is going to take hours. A couple to clean out all that the junk they poured into her, and then at least as long to get rid of all the cancer. But when we are done, your Mom will be as good as new.

Thank God.

Thank Manitou, River said. She is the goddess that is doing this for us. But you are probably going to get bored. There wont be any fish or otters swimming by for the next couple of hours, although it will get interesting later when the animals come by to get a morning drink. You can stand up whenever you want, and come back down. The river will let you breathe. But if you do stand up and see any animals, don’t be afraid. They won’t hurt you, and some of them are actually pretty cool.

It was well after eight when River next saw action on the bank. Cindy had been popping up and down for a while, especially when the otters were playing by the bank. But now she saw Wayne was there. She had Cindy hold her Mom under the water, and River stood up.

“Over here, Wayne” she yelled. “We had an emergency. Can you help?”

“We all wondered why you were still here,” he called back. “What can I do?”

“There is a taxi driver from Sudbury somewhere, probably in town. We owe him like 1400 bucks. See if someone can round up the money. Dawn, the woman I am helping, will be good for it.”

“I’ve got like $60,” Wayne said. “Starving student, you know. I could ask your Dad and Nick, maybe they could drum it up. Oh no, your Dad is out hunting with Mark. If we have time we can go around to others. Even in dribs and drabs we will raise that for you. ”

“Keep track of who gives what,” River said. “Like I said, they will get paid back. I have to go now, but if anyone needs me, just beep your horn.”

River dropped down into the water again, and took a good look at Dawn. She was looking like a 40-year-old again, with good color and steady breathing. Just then her eyes fluttered open. For a second she looked surprised, and then noticed her daughter next to her, who saw her mother open her eyes and flew over to embrace her. Dawn then noticed River, and recognized her. River led all three to stand.

“How are you feeling,” River asked.

“Amazing,” Dawn said. “Nothing hurts. Do you know how long it has been since nothing hurt? Years.”

“I’m glad. You aren’t cured yet, not completely, so we need to stay in the river. And we have to make a plan. Remember me telling you that I wanted the doctors to think the treatment they gave you cured you. Well, that won’t work. If we tell them that, they will start throwing that Super Chemo stuff at all kinds of other people, and it will kill them just as badly as it was killing you.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t wish that stuff on anyone,” Dawn said. “I thought regular Chemo was bad.”

“Mom! Look, your hair. It’s back.”

River noticed it as well. The woman had been completely bald when they entered the river, although it was not so noticeable at night. Now she had dark brown hair down to her shoulders.

“It isn’t even wet,” Cindy noted. “None of us have wet hair, and we were underwater.”

“A little bonus,” River said. “If we are lucky, our clothes won’t be wet either. But we have a problem to work on.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” Dawn said. “Would you be heartbroken to leave your school?”

“No,” Cindy said forcefully. “I hate that place. They are so mean there, and the teachers were pissed off that you were dying. I hate them all.”

“I think they were mostly upset about all the class time you were missing,” Dawn said. “You nearly didn’t finish Grade 8 last spring. They were actually pretty good about graduating you.”

“I don’t care. I thought I was losing my mom, and nobody cared. I needed to be with you. I was sure I was going to lose you. And I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Cindy sobbed.

“It’s all right. And if you aren’t attached to Sudbury, we can move somewhere else. I will just stop showing up at the doctors. There isn’t much I need from the apartment, so we’ll just leave everything. The doctors will be pissed off when I don’t show up for my further treatments, but I doubt they will look for me. And if they do, they will find an empty apartment. With my writing income I can live anywhere.”

“You could live here,” River said. “Not on the reserve, of course, but in the town. My Dad is even building some houses in a subdivision they split off from the reserve if you want to buy.”

“Maybe, if we like it. Is there a good school?”

“Well, I am new to the high school myself, on Tuesday.”

“Ooh, what about school records,” Dawn asked. “They could trace me here if we get Cindy’s records from Sudbury.”

River thought for a second. “Home schooling. Just say that Cindy was home schooled. They will give her some assessments on the first day or two, but if she passes she will be in. In my grade. If not, she will have to take the bus to the middle school in Terrace Bay, like my brother does.”

“You are in Grade 9,” Cindy gasped. “You look … I thought you were 16 or 18.”

“I get that a lot. Hopefully you will get in. There are a whole slew of new kids coming in this year. Mostly natives, but all nice kids. I’ve met a lot of them. There are a couple dozen other white kids too. I worked with them for a few days as a junior ranger. They are cool.”

“Anyway, the river says we can get out now. Oh, what? Wait a second,” River said, pausing. Then she continued. “Okay, now we are done.”

“What was all that?” Dawn asked.

“Well, the river did a scan on Cindy, and found that she would get breast cancer when she is 29. But not any more. The river cured that as well.”

“Wow, that is great,” Cindy said cupping her breasts. “I just got these, and I wouldn’t want to lose one so soon.”

“Well, you won’t lose one at all,” River said. “Not until you are at least 60.”

Just then two cars came up the road. There was the taxi, followed by Nick. By now Wayne would have to be at work with the JR crew.

“Nick, did you pay the driver,” River asked as they stepped onto the bank.

“We are dry,” she heard Cindy tell her mother.

“How much is it,” Dawn asked. “I can write a check if … Where is my purse?”

“Oh, in the back of the taxi. Mine too,” Cindy said.

“We made an arrangement,” Nick said. “Full meter for such a long distance ride is not normal, so we agreed on $800.”

“Are you happy with that,” River asked. The driver nodded.

“Do you have an extra hundred?” River asked Nick. He nodded, questioningly, then took out his wallet and handed River five 20s.

“Here,” River said, holding out the hundred. “You made good money tonight. You drove two ladies all the way to Sault Ste. Marie from Sudbury. The woman paid you $900 and told you to keep the meter running on the ride home. So you went to Sault, and back. Right? If you leave the meter off for the ride back to Sudbury, it should read about right for the round trip to Sault.”

The man caught on, and nodded eagerly. He was not opposed to screwing with the authorities. River handed him the money. “That is cool, so long as it isn’t the mob, or the cops.”

“The cops might talk to you,” River said. “But it will be a simple missing persons case, nothing illegal. You just took two women to Sault. Okay.”

“Okay cutie,” the driver flirted, then rolled up his window and drove away.

“River, as your lawyer I have to admit I am surprised at you. I don’t believe you did that. Now, what do we need to do with your friends?”

River introduced them, and Dawn immediately hired Nick as her business agent. She wanted him to go back to Sudbury for her and get some clothes and things from the house. She also wanted help in getting established in St. Mary’s, renting a house, and other tasks. Her car was in Sudbury, and she planned to abandon it there to amp up the ruse. Apparently she was so well off that losing a $35,000 car would not hurt.

“Wow, a paying client,” Nick noted. “That will be a first up here. Until now I have been doing mostly pro-bono work.”

“We’re going to pay you,” River said with a smile. “Just not until we get the business going.”

River got off at her campsite, where her Mom was waiting while the others headed into town to try and find Dawn and her daughter a place to live.

River had barely greeted Alison when two trucks pulled in. It was Rod and the girls, who should have been back two days earlier.

“Problems?” River asked as a worried Rod got out of his truck.

“You might say that,” the Prophet answered. “We got up to Moose Portage and did our spiel there but everything was a mess. There were 10 or 12 kids who were definitely at risk. We spent a full two days there, and had personal counseling sessions with most of the kids. Apparently the river had taught us more than just history and songs. We all seem to have skills in talking to kids about suicide. At least I think we were saying the right things. By the end of the second day we had stabilized all but two of the kids.”

“What did you do with them?” River asked, worried.

“We took them with us to Copper Stone. Everything there was cool, and there were a few kids from there who are coming here to school. And the kid who rode up there with Shelly and Jennifer talked a lot with them during the ride, and calmed down. The other kid, a boy of about 10, rode with Ria and I but didn’t say a word. But about five minutes into the ride he had his arms around Silver and I don’t think he let go until we got him back home.”

“We spent one more day with them all back at Moose Portage, and overnight. We are pretty sure that all the kids are okay now. I still worry about the one boy, but I got his parents to promise to bring him to service on Sunday. I made him agree to come so he could see Silver, and I finally could see a flicker that told me he wanted to live for something now. Hopefully, when the river gets him on Sunday, it will cure him permanently.”

“It should,” River said. “If nothing else it can promise him that he can go to high school here, and be with Silver a lot then. It sounds like we have a therapy wolf on the team. I want Silver on every mission now.”

“Yeah, it helps even with the parents and elders. They see that we have a wild wolf with us, and we instantly gain respect as wolf-talkers.”

At that point River jumped up and hugged Rod hard. “Thank you, thank you, thank all of you. This is why we do this. You found 10 kids in peril, and saved them. And two of them seem to have been real danger cases. We lost Ginny, but not through our own fault. And you four have done the impossible, and saved lives this weekend. You should be proud. And you can be certain that the entire band will know about this on Sunday.”

“There is another thing, River,” Rod said. Shelly and Jennifer got talking to the youngster who was riding with them, and he said he had no plans for a place to stay down here. We’ve got some 40 kids coming to school. Where will they stay?”

“Oh god,” River said. “I never thought about that. How does it work?”

“Well, when I went to high school there were a couple students from Stone Ledge. They mostly went home on weekends, but they stayed in houses in town. Usually two to four at a house. The government paid money for their room and board.”

“Wow, I’d like to get that money for people on the reserve,” River said. “Who usually sets all this up?”

“It is normally the parents, but I doubt that many can have anything set up. Most will be down on Monday with their kids, hoping to find them rooms. I don’t know if it is our job to find them places.”

“Our job is helping people,” River said. “I cannot stand it when people are hired to do something, like government workers. Then instead of helping people they just look for rules and policies that say ‘it isn’t my job’. If your job is to help people, then you help people.”

“Is our job helping people?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes it is. It is all of our jobs. All the people of the river help people.”

“You certainly do, River,” Ria said. “You have done nothing but help people since you joined us. You helped George and Kyle sell their totem, and got the store started for all the crafts people. You saved Marilyn and Shelly, and brought them back home. You helped Carla find a good family. Your Mom is getting us a bank, and your Dad is teaching carpentry to our men. And now we saved a bunch of kids from Moose Portage. You do nothing but help people.”

“Well I can’t take credit for Mom and Dad, and it was Nick more than me that saved Carla. And it was you guys that did all the good things on your trip.”

“Yeah, but it was you that decided we needed to have that kind of outreach. You are the one who is the spark behind all these good things.”

“Maybe,” River said. “But wouldn’t the world be a better place if helping others was the goal of everyone, instead of just trying to amass more and more money? I know I love it here way more than Toronto. And I love you guys especially.”

“Thanks, captain,” Rod said. “But we are all really tired. It was pretty stressful and draining. I didn’t know that being a suicide counselor was so tiring. We are all heading off for a nap.”

Mark and Dale turned up shortly thereafter, and Alison and River immediately assumed something had gone wrong to bring them back two and a half days early. They soon learned that it was that everything had gone perfectly right.

Mark presented River with the two hides, and asked if she could do anything with them.

“I don’t know anything about tanning deerskin,” River said.

“But the river could tell you, maybe help you,” Mark pleaded. “Please?”

“Okay, I will take them down to the river tomorrow morning.” Mark then darted into his tent and came out with a hand tool.

“It’s a scrapper,” he explained. “Tall John gave it to me. You use it to scrape off all the fat and blood from the one side, and the hair from the other. You can use it.”

“Why do I think I am being conned into doing something that Tall John wanted you to do?” River asked. “I will ask the river, and if it thinks it is a good idea, I will treat your hides. Otherwise you do it yourself. Fair?”

“Fair!”

“Eek,” Alison shrieked. “What is that?” She pointed at the deer head, which the men had made sure was not noticeable earlier.

“That is Mark’s trophy,” Dale said. “We will get Frank to do the taxidermy on it, then hang it in the living room of the new house.”

“You aren’t going to put that bloody thing in my new house,” Alison said.

“It won’t be bloody when they get it finished,” River added helpfully. “And it really is a magnificent rack. Most men would be proud to have brought down a stag of that size, and your 10-year-old son did it.”

“Nearly 11,” Mark said.

“Hmmph,” Alison said, knowing she had lost this battle. She turned to Dale, nuzzling up to his cheek. “You used to say I have a magnificent rack.” She jumped back. “Eek! And you need to shave if you want to see it tonight.”

“Ahem! Kids present. Please leave the adult stuff until we are gone or in bed,” River said.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 29 – The Students Arrive

So far: The river saved another cancer victim, who decided that she and her daughter may stay in the area. Then news came of a near-disaster at Moose Portage Reserve that was narrowly averted by Rod and the girls. Finally, Mark wins twice, getting his trophy into the new house, and con(vinc)ing River to treat his hides.

Sunday morning found River in her usual spot. She had a pair of trousers of her fathers to mend, and after that she took out the deer hides. The river explained the traditional processes involved with her, and she was dismayed to find out that two hides, particularly one of the size of the larger one, could take weeks to cure in the traditional manner. Then, after shocking her with the amount of work involved, the river offered to help. River would only need to scrape the hides, and even that the river would facilitate. It then did all the chemical treatment on the skins, and by sunrise River held two beautiful deerskins that Mark could sell for a good dollar at the Northern Store in Terrace Bay.

But River decided that the skins should not be sold. She wrapped them up and put them into a bundle. She walked down to the Stormcloud house, and got her morning cuddles with Luv, a new stage in her morning routine, and asked Marilyn to allow her to store the hides there.

River gladly changed Luv, giving Marilyn a few more minutes to get dressed for services, and then the four of them walked over to Ben and Helen’s house for breakfast.

When the family got to the meeting place later, River was astounded at how many people were there, a full hour before services were to start. What’s more, many of the faces were new. Apparently many people bringing down children to go to school on Tuesday came in time for the services, which for the distant reserves meant they had to get up quite early. River noticed one young boy with his arms clasped firmly around Silver’s neck, and went over and chatted with the family. She then bent over and greeted the boy, who didn’t respond.

“You know, at a certain part of the service I will be asking all the new people to come into the water. Silver won’t come in, but I would like you to come in. Will you?”

The boy just looked up at her sadly, and shook his head no. “Silver would really like you to come in,” River prodded. “You see, coming into the river with the rest of us will make you an official member of the people. And Silver likes the people. He will like you more if you are one of the people. You want him to like you, don’t you? And when you come back out of the river you will feel better, and Silver will be right here for you. Will you please come in? It will make me, and Silver happy.”

The boy nodded his head, and spoke in a quiet voice. “I’ll come.”

“Thanks Derrick,” River said, tousling his hair as he hugged the wolf.

“That’s the first thing he’s said in a week. Maybe two,” his mother said. “Thank you so much for this. We didn’t know what to do, and then the Prophet showed up and they helped so much. But it is Silver who has done the most for him.”

River chatted and mingled with other new faces until service time, and then waded into the river. By now there must have been two thousand people on the banks, and after some songs from Marilyn, Shelly, Liesl and Jennifer, River called all the new people into the water. There seemed to be nearly 1000 crowded in. Looking on the bank, River could see that Derrick was still there, still hugging the wolf. Then Silver stood up, and started prodding the boy to the water’s edge, as River walked towards the bank. She reached out and patted Silver, then took the boy’s reluctant hand and helped him into the river.

They waded back out until the water was about waist deep on the boy, and she could feel fear running through him. River continued to hold his hand as she started to sing the song of the people. She finished and now with all the people in the river completely bilingual in Ojibwe, she sang the song of the history of the people. When she finished, the young boy pulled her down and kissed her on the cheek, saying “Thank you, River. I needed that so much.” A tear came to River’s eye as the boy pulled away and headed to the bank ahead of the rest of the crowd. Later she saw him chatting away with his parents, in Ojibwe she realized. He had a hand on Silver’s neck, but was no longer hugging him tightly.

River smiled, and began her service. She updated the people on the activities in the reserve over the past week, a step she had started the week before, when the tale of the events up in Stone Ledge had to be explained to those that were not directly involved. This time it was the events in Moose Portage and Copper Stone that were explained, and River gave all the credit to Rod and the girls on the team.

“I have another announcement to make,” she said. “We have many people here who are from other reservations, most bringing their children to attend school in the local high school on Tuesday. We have a dire need for host families that can provide a room or two and take in two or four children. This is not a unpaid position. I understand that the government pays quite well for boarding students. It is a seven-day a week job, even if some of the students from closer reserves will be heading home on most weekends. But if weather gets bad, or something happens, they may need to be there on the weekends as well. Expect a lot of that after Christmas break, which all students will go home for.”

“Nick will tell you what the rates are when you sign up. The requirements are that you have a separate room for each pair of students, and a separate bed for each. The place will have to be clean, and we will be inspecting, as will the parents. The house doesn’t have to look pretty: I know that most of them don’t. But you need to keep them clean, and provide two good meals a day, three on weekends. The students will get lunch money for eating at school.”

“If a student gets sick, you treat him or her as you would one of your own. Tend to them until they are better, and take them to the hospital if they need treatment. You aren’t expected to buy clothes or provide entertainment for them, other than sharing the TV or computer if your house has one.”

“If you are interested, talk to Nick after the meeting. Shelly, Marilyn and Jennifer are the ones who families should go to if they want a child boarded. I understand that in the past people have boarded in town, and this is possible as well. However your children have all just learned Ojibwe, if they didn’t know it before, and it would be nice for them to be in a place where they can speak their own language.”

With that the meeting broke up, and large crowds of people gathered around Nick, Shelly, Marilyn, and Jennifer. River walked over to see Derrick and his family.

“Feeling better?” she asked the boy in Ojibwe.

“Much better,” he answered. “I didn’t know how great and important it is to be one of the people. I want to go back, and share with my friends. Can they come here and learn the language and our history?”

“Yes they can. They just need to get their parents to drive down. I hold a meeting here at 4 p.m. almost every day, and if they come, they can get into the water just like you did, and learn.”

“Thank you so much for everything you have done,” his mother said, hugging River. “We were so worried that we were going to lose him. There were five suicides in Moose Portage last year, and three the year before. So far none this year, and after your team came up I feel there might not be any more.”

“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” River said. “It is what we hope too, and are working towards. It is such a waste when we lose a young person, and all their potential. The one thing I want to ask is that if Derrick gets depressed or down again, you bring him here. If it is a weekend, Silver will be here for him, if not he can meet one of the other wolves in the band. I’m sure they will help him.”

“Mom, can I live here?” Derrick suddenly asked. “All those other kids are.” He pointed to the groups around the girls.

“Sorry Derrick,” River said. “We don’t have a school for grade 5 to 8 here. They get bussed down the road to another town. But you can definitely come to high school here. You just have to work hard at your school and pass everything.”

“Will Silver still be here then?” the boy asked.

“He is pretty young,” River said. “He should still be here when you come to high school. He will be a pretty old wolf by the time you finish Grade 12, though.”

“That’s okay,” the boy said brightly. “I will look after him if he gets old.”

“See to it that you do. He is going to need you, so you need to look after yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” Derrick said. “The river told me I am important. I never knew that. It wants me to do great things when I am grown up. I just don’t know what the great things are.”

“It doesn’t matter,” River said. “Everything can be great. Your parents are doing great things.”

Derrick’s eyes widened. “What are they doing?”

“Why, they are raising you,” River said with a smile. “That is a great thing. There is nothing more important to Manitou than seeing its people prosper and grow. Not only the people, but the wolves, the trees, the deer. Everything and everyone is important to Manitou.”

River watched the young family wander off to their truck. Both the mother and father were walking proud and confident knowing that they were doing ‘great things’. River chatted with other people, and then noticed Dawn Winters and Cindy at the edge of the crowd.

“Dawn, Cindy,” River said, embracing the younger girl. “Did you decide to stay?”

“We did,” Dawn said. “The principal was at the high school yesterday, and he gave Cindy the tests for home-schooled, and she passed easily. He was a bit reluctant about enrolling her, because apparently there is a huge intake of grade 9s this year, but Nick was with us and he made sure we got in.”

“And we got a house, too,” Cindy said. “It is bigger than the apartment we had in Sudbury, but still kinda cosy. Right down the street from the high school. I can walk to school.”

“And only for a six-month lease,” Dawn added. “We drove by those gorgeous houses they are building by the edge of the park and I want one. There was a man there on Saturday, and he showed us around. They are magnificent.”

“That would probably have been my dad,” River said.

“Dale something?” Dawn said. River nodded. “Anyway, he said that the third one will be finished sometime just before Christmas. Apparently the first two are already spoken for. But I don’t mind, since he said we would be able to pick out fixtures and such.”

“My family get the first one, and Nick has the second one,” River said.

“We will be neighbors!” Cindy squealed and hugged River again.

“Actually, there is something we would like to ask,” Dawn said. “I heard you say that you were looking for people to host children from the other reserves. Our house has four bedrooms, and I wouldn’t mind hosting two girls. One per room. The money is not important to me, but Cindy has had trouble making friends in other towns. It is not easy being the daughter of a famous writer. These girls will be her classmates, and I’m sure once they get to know her, they will become friends. But then I heard that you wanted people who speak Ojibwe. I speak a bit of French, and Cindy a bit more, from five years of immersion. But we don’t know your language.”

“You should have come into the river with the others,” River said. “We would have taught you.”

“Cindy wanted to, but I thought it might be a special ceremony,” Dawn said.

“It is a special ceremony,” River said. “Special for people who want to know more about the people. That is what we call ourselves.”

“Well, as a writer I’m always interested in learning as much as possible about other cultures,” Dawn said. “Maybe next week we can join in?”

“You can do better than that,” River said. “I will be back at 4 p.m. and you can come then. Let’s get you over to Nick and get you on the list for students.”

That afternoon there were another hundred or so people at the afternoon session with River, again mostly parents of children wanting to go to St. Mary’s High after hearing about it from Rod and the girls. This was followed on Monday, a holiday in Ontario (Labor Day), when many more parents showed up who hadn’t wanted to camp out in the park. River held two more services that day, with about 80 people at each one.

At the end of the day Nick reported that there were 48 new students coming into the Grade 9. They had expected 21 from the town and the reserve at the end of the last term. With River, and now Cindy, that number went up to 23, so there were going to be 71 students in grade nine, almost as many as in the rest of the grades. Principal Tweed actually had to have three sections of Grade 9, and planned to teach one himself until he could get a new teacher in. Patrick George was confirmed as the second teacher of Grade 9, concentrating on Ojibwe language and culture. He also took on the additional boys phys. ed. classes that the new sections of Grade 9s caused.

All the new students had accommodation, although now there needed to be two bus runs from the reserve, where most of the new students were located. Since it was only a 20-minute round trip through the reserve, two runs were made by the same bus every morning and every night. Dawn got two girls who had come to the Sunday services, so they moved in that night, and quickly bonded with Cindy. One of the girls, twin sisters, was in a wheelchair and riding the bus from the reserve would not be practical for her. With the Winters house just down the road from the high school, she should be able to get to school easily, at least until the snows come.

Many other students also moved in on Sunday, with the rest mainly coming on Monday, ready for the first day of school on Tuesday.

“Hey squirt, about those deer skins,” River asked Sunday afternoon at the campsite.

“Who you calling squirt?” Mark said, drawing himself up to show he was three inches taller than River. “Did you get them done?”

“Yes, and they are beautiful,” River said. “I suspect you could get nearly $100 for the two if you sold them.”

“Sweet,” Mark said. “I could buy some computer games.”

“Or you could give them to me,” River said.

“What?”

“Let me finish. You could give them to me and I could sew them into a real Ojibwe warrior outfit for you. Fringe all over, and some beadwork on the back.”

“Beadwork? That sounds kind of girly.”

“Does it? Look at this.” She held out the project she had made earlier in the week. It was a denim-colored cotton shirt, and she had embroidered a likeness of Night on the back.

“Oh honey, it is beautiful,” Alison gushed. “Did you do this yourself?”

“Well, I think the river gets a lot of the credit,” River said. “I mean, I have never been a great artist before. It’s for Wayne, so that he can remember Night while he is at college.”

“And so he will remember you too,” Dale said with a wink. River just reddened.

“When are you giving it to him?” Alison asked.

“He is supposed to be coming by soon,” River said. “He wants to leave by 6, so he can get most of the way to London before it gets too late. He has a friend from last year who lives in Parry Sound, so they will spend the night there, and get to the university before noon to move into their dorm. I guess they are sharing.”

“If you can make me something like that on the back of my suit I’d love it,” Mark said, bring the conversation back to where it had started. “Maybe one of the other wolves?”

“I was thinking about the deer itself,” River said. “He provided the skin, and he was a magnificent beast. It kind of all comes together.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Mark raved. “That would be perfect.”

Just then Wayne pulled up in Nick’s classy car. Nick had bought a five-year-old pickup truck earlier in the week in Terrace Bay, and fixed a car seat into it. For the reserve, that was practically brand new. Wayne was now taking the car to London, where he already had several people who had answered his ad on Kijiji. Selling the car would provide him with more than enough money to pay for his term at Western University, and Nick would still make more money than if he sold through a dealer in the north, where luxury cars are less interesting to buyers.

River jumped up, and ran to the car, which was packed with Wayne’s belongings, at least a term’s worth of them. She was holding the shirt. Mark jumped up too, but Alison waved him back into his seat, and they left the young couple alone at the car.

They could see River show him the shirt, and Wayne’s face lit up. He engulfed River with a great hug, and looked like he was going to kiss her too, but backed off. He then walked over to the campsite, not noticing that he was holding River’s hand.

“Mr. Waters. Mrs. Waters. Mark. I just wanted to say goodbye. I’m about ready to head off for fall term. I might be able to get back for Thanksgiving if I can get a ride partway. But if not, it will be Christmas before I see you all again. You’ll be in the new house by then, I imagine. I’m going to miss this place so much.”

“Well, there is no need to miss the people,” Alison noted. “With Skype you are just a few seconds away. Call whenever you need to talk. To any of us.” River looked at her mother gratefully. Everyone there knew who Wayne would want to talk to.

The young man then gave River another one-armed hug, and headed off to his car. She stood and waved until he was out of sight.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 30 – School Days

So far: River learned how to tan a deerskin, and then there was a great coming together with people from many of the area reserves. The river taught all of them the language and the history, and one boy in particular learned something important. Homes were found for all the new students, and the high school is going to be close to bursting, mostly with grade 9 students. It was not all arrivals though. River had to say goodbye to Wayne, her first First Nations friend, as he heads back to university.

River was up at her normal time on Tuesday, excited about going to her first day of high school. Unlike most girls in her class, she didn’t worry about what to wear. River always wore First Nations costumes that were given to her by the women in the band who sewed. It seemed to be a mark of pride to have the rivertalker wear an outfit you had sewed, and River took great care to wear everyone’s contributions. It was a special honor to have her wear someone’s sewing at the Sunday services, so she had taken great care to never wear from the same designer twice. It was pleasing to see the pride in the face of the woman who had sewn her outfit as she stood in the river to address the people.

Today River chose the first dress she had been gifted, from Eve Sunflower, who had also provided River with several native dance lessons, when River could find the time. The dress was a beautiful one designed for Eve’s daughter to wear at pow-wows, which the girl had attended before committing suicide in her later teen years. It was Amy Sunflower whose death had caused River to start a campaign to end First Nations suicides.

At any rate, the dress was beautiful, and River considered it ideal for the first day of school. The town kids would laugh at it, she knew, but the reserve kids would see it and realize that she was proud to be an Ojibwe, even if only an honorary one. She felt especially proud because she had spent several hours in the river working on Mark’s new outfit. It would have fringe along the shoulders and down the arms and legs. She got most of it cut and stitched together before taking it back to Marilyn’s.

River had to wake Mark for his first day of class when she came back from the river, since the bus to the middle school at Terrace Bay left before 7:30 to allow it to be back at 8:30 for the first run to the local high school, and then another run at 8:50. High school classes had been pushed back to a 9:05 start to compensate for the needed second run to get all the new students from the reserve into town.

River wanted to be on the first bus, and found five other students waiting after she walked the five minutes from the campsite to the bus stop. She was the one person that everyone knew, both the local students and the ones boarding on the reserve. So she spent her time introducing everyone to everyone else, making them all feel comfortable. Some students only knew their roommate, so it was important to make all feel part of the group.

By the time the bus came, there were 17 people at the stop, and all were chattering together. River didn’t allow shyness to stop anyone, speaking to them, and then getting them talking to someone else, like an experienced party host.

It continued on the bus, where she flitted back and forth among the students that got on during the later stops, and continued all the way until the full bus got to the school. As first bus, they had to wait until the second group of students got in, which included almost all of the senior year students, who were much less excited about the first day of school. River continued her social activities until the bell rang, and all the students headed into the gym for first-day assembly, when they would be broken into classes.

In the gym, the principal welcomed them all to the school. This year there were going to be 145 students in six different classes. The school was built with eight rooms, one science lab, and a smallish gym. For the past few years there had only been one class per grade, but now there would be three grade nines, and one class for each of the senior years.

Then the senior students were sent off to their homerooms with their teachers, while the grade nines waited to find out which class they would be in. Principal Tweed made a really bad Harry Potter joke about sorting hats, which caused most students to groan. River smiled though. At least he was trying.

In the end Carla, River, and Cindy were all in 9B with Mr. George as their teacher. Cindy’s housemates, Wendy Jean and Galena were also in 9B, with Galena pushing Wendy’s chair. Luckily there were no stairs in the school, other than some storage attics. River found Wendy a bit grumpy at first, but passed it off as first day jitters. She knew that she was a bit nervous.

That dissipated when they got to homeroom and the hearty welcome that Mr. George gave them. He told them that he would be teaching Ojibwe to those who had signed up for it rather than shop or home ec. He then sent them off to their first class, which was English for most of them.

“River,” a familiar voice called out. She turned and saw Gail and Gina, her tent-mates from a few weeks ago in the JR camp. She had not really seen much of them, since they had worked with Wayne all day, and River was up long before they were. Lately they had been asleep already when she crawled into her sleeping bag for her short sleep.

“Who are the white girls?” Wendy asked with a sneer, ignoring the fact that Cindy, a white girl, was currently pushing her wheelchair.

“Girls, meet Gail and Gina,” River said. “They worked with me in Junior Rangers at the park this summer. We had some fun, until I got busy with other things. You girls know Carla. This is Cindy, and Wendy Jean and Galena from Moose Portage Reserve, who are boarding at Cindy’s.”

The girls only had a minute to chat, as Gail and Gina, in 9C, had to head off to science class.

At lunch, River was again flitting around the room. She didn’t need to eat, but went from table to table to chat with students, and to move the shy ones into larger groups so they could make friends.

“Look at her,” Emily Smythe said. “She is clearly the most popular girl in the grade. We should ask her to join.”

“She is pretty enough,” Jessica Baldwin said. The girls were in a group of six who sat at one table in the corner of the gym/cafeteria. They were the Spirit Squad, and they chose one student from each grade each year. Thus, they would have 10 students, one Grade 9, two Grade 10s, three from Grade 11, and four from Grade 12 by the end of the week. They had already chosen the girls they wanted from the senior years, usually friends of one or more of the current members. But Grade 9 was always harder.

The Spirit Squad was a sort of replacement for cheerleaders at St. Mary’s. The school was too small to have a football program, and also there had been no teacher with a cheer background. A few years back, however, a few students started the Spirit Squad to cheer on the boys basketball program, the main sport at the school.

Just then River walked close, and Jessica waved her over.

“Hi, I’m Jessica,” the girl said, introducing the others at the table. “We are the Spirit Squad, and we thought you might be interested in joining. You seem to know everyone in your grade.”

“Wow, that’s nice of you to ask. I’m River. I bet your group is great, but I really don’t think I will have time to help out. I have a commitment every day after school on the reserve.”

“You live on the reserve,” Emily asked with a gasp.

“Yeah, we are living in a tent in the park,” River said, smiling.

“You are poor?” one of the other girls blurted out.

“I guess it does sound like we’re homeless,” River laughed. “But we will be moving into one of the big houses being built down by the river. It won’t be ready for another few weeks, though.”

“Oh,” the girls seemed mollified at this.

“You know who would be good for your group,” River said, pointing. “Carla, the girl over at that table.”

“She’s an Indian,” one of the girls said.

“But she is pretty,” said another.

“But an Indian,” the first girl repeated. “We’ve never had an Indian before.”

“We prefer the term First Nations,” River said. “The people are not from India.”

“We?” Jessica repeated. “Are you Ind… First Nations? You are so blonde.”

River smiled. “I consider myself an honorary member of the band. Would you like me to call over Carla?”

“It might be a good idea to get someone from the band,” Emily said. “There are so many natives in Grade 9 this year.”

River was relieved. Clearly one girl was racist, but it didn’t seem to run through the entire group. If it had, she wouldn’t want Carla involved. “Do you want me to call Carla over?”

“Yes, do. We can talk to her at least. No promises, but we really do need to find someone from Grade 9,” Jessica said.

Carla came over at River’s wave, and after introducing her River went back to working the room, spending a few minutes at each of the Grade 9 tables.

As she passed a group of older students, one tall boy reached out a hand and grabbed her arm. “Hey cutie,” he said. “Why won’t you sit down with us? I’d like to get to know you better. You are super cute.”

“I was just visiting all the Grade 9s. You guys are older. But I guess I can chat for a bit,” River sat at an empty chair, making sure it was not the one next to the boy who had grabbed her.

“We’re Grade 11s,” the boy said. “I’m Josh Peterville. Captain of the basketball team as a junior.”

“Brag much?” one of the other boys sneered. “The captain won’t be picked until after tryouts in November.”

“Yeah, but who else is going against me? None of the Grade 12s are that good. I’m a cinch to get in. You should date me,” the boy said to River. “I saw you talking to the girls from Spirit Squad. Are you going to be the Grade 9 member?”

“No, I can’t,” River said. “And I can’t date you either. I’m only 14, and too young to go steady.”

“Your parents don’t have to know,” the boy said. “I’m 16, and have a car. We can go anywhere. I know all the romantic spots on the lake.”

River wondered just how many girls he had taken to those romantic spots. “Sorry Josh. I am too young, and if I wasn’t, there is someone else I would date.”

“Hah,” Josh sneered. “Some little Grade Niner? I will smear him.”

“The fact that you think I would go out with you after you fight someone I like shows me that you are not boyfriend material,” River said. “And it is not a boy my age. He is in college, second year, and you wouldn’t get near him without suffering a lot of pain. He wouldn’t fight you, unless he thought that you had bothered me. Then he would put you into the hospital. Now I think I see somewhere else I need to be.”

“Oooh,” the other boys at the table crowed at seeing the basketball player getting verbally chopped into little pieces by River. She just walked away, and soon after that the warning bell rang.

The last class of the afternoon was Ojibwe with Mr. George. He greeted the class in the language, and most of them knew it. There were a few white people in the class, mostly looking at it as a way to avoid shop or home ec. Cindy was one, and River, although she considered herself one of the people, and two others in a class of 30.

Mr. George asked that all those who didn’t speak the language show up at the meeting place at the river at 4 p.m. for a special event. He mentioned as he walked around the class that there were more than a dozen students from the other two Ojibwe classes that also needed to attend the event. He clearly was warning River, without pointing out that she would be the one conducting the ceremony.

At the meeting place River joined the other students, none of whom spoke the language. A few minutes after 4 a van pulled up, and Wendy Jean and Galena were helped out by Mr. George. The van would allow him to take the students from off the reserve home. Just then Mark appeared, and he pushed Wendy to the bank where all the other students were standing.

“Thanks for coming, class, or is it classes,” Mr. George said. “I have invited River Waters and her brother here to help us in this little ceremony that will help you all learn the Ojibwe language.” River caught on immediately. The teacher was going to make it appear as if he were the one the magic was flowing through, not River. The students would be less intimidated if it was a teacher, and not a fellow student conducting the rites.

“River, if you could lead the students out into the river,” Mr. George said. “Mark, could you help Wendy Jean?” The young boy picked the small girl up and carried her into the water as the rest of the students waded into the water.

“River is going to sing a few songs in Ojibwe, and as she does, you might start to pick up the words. This is how we will all learn Ojibwe.”

River started to sing the songs of the people, and a half hour later, when she finished, all the students had a basic understanding of the language, and Mr. George was going to be able to conduct his class in Ojibwe, as he had planned. He ended the session, and then left, taking the van load of students who were from St. Mary’s or Terrace Bay with him to be driven home.

“He’s left us,” Galena said as she watched the van pull away. Wendy Jean’s chair remained on the bank. She had spent the last half hour in Mark’s arms, and seemed to be enjoying it. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m enjoying it here. I think the water is calming me or something. I don’t feel tense like I usually do.”

“I would like you to stay a bit longer with me,” River said. “The river sometimes can cure people, or give them other boons. I’m hoping it can do something for you, Wendy Jean.”

River took the handicapped girl from Mark, and held her in the water. Then they both dropped, which threw Galena into a panic. “It is all right,” Cindy said. “She did the same thing with my Mom when she cured her of cancer. They can breathe underwater. I know, because I did it for a while too.”

“How is that possible? But then, how is it possible that it can cure her? She has been in a wheelchair since she hit a tree on a toboggan when we were eight.”

“The river can do wonderful things,” Mark said. “I am only 10, nearly 11, and it made me bigger.”

“You’re kidding,” Galena said as she and Cindy stared at him. “I thought you were, like, eighteen or something. Wow.”

After about a half hour, River stood up, bringing Wendy Jean with her. “Mark, can you take Wendy back to her chair? The river had other plans for her.”

“She can’t walk?” Galena said, disappointed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Wendy told her sister, cheerfully. “The river has given me something even better. I realize now that I’ve been a real bitch for years, feeling sorry for myself, and making everyone else miserable. I especially need to apologize to you, Galena. You’ve taken the brunt of my nastiness, and never complained.”

“How could I?” Galena embraced her sister. “We were both on the same sled when it hit the tree, and you were paralyzed, while I just got a scrape on my arm. It was so unfair.”

“No,” Wendy Jean said. “The river told me that my handicap is what makes me special. It is not something to be pitied, any more than you should be pitied because you are cute. It is a part of me, and it said it could take it away from me.”

“It said it could cure you?”

“Of course. The river is Manitou. It can do anything. But if it cured me, it would be taking a part of me away. Instead it taught me how to live the way I am. It taught me how to block out the pains that come sometimes. And it said that I will soon find there is something special about me.”

She then curled up into Mark's arms, and let him carry her back to her chair. Just then Mrs. Winters drove up in the van she had bought, which had a ramp and a spot for Wendy’s chair in the second row.

“You got a new car, Mom,” Cindy crowed.

“Yes. We couldn’t keep depending on Nick to carry us all around, so the two of us went to Sault this morning and we found this on one of the lots. It seemed to call out to us, since Wendy Jean is in a chair. This gives her more mobility and will get her out of the house.”

“Thanks Mrs. Winters,” Wendy Jean said, with a tear in her eye. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“It is for all of us, Wendy,” Dawn said. “I needed to get a car. And when we saw this one in the dealership lot, there wasn’t a question that I wouldn’t get it. And Nick negotiated a great price for me. Apparently there isn’t a lot of demand for a handicapped van in Sault, and the dealer was planning to ship it to Toronto to be sold at auction, probably taking a lot less than what we paid.”

By now Mark had Wendy in her chair, and Nick was showing them how the ramp worked. Soon they had the chair strapped into its spot, and Galena hopped into the seat next to her, while Cindy took shotgun. The four drove off with a wave.

“So how was the first day at school, Mark?” River asked as they walked along the bank with Nick towards his RV.

“Not bad. Something I have to tell you about though. Are you going to the campsite?” he said. River had moved her tent back to the site when the JR camp broke up a week ago, and now was staying with the family, although the house was getting closer and closer to completion. The big remaining task was the fireplace, and Chip had promised that he and his boys would finish it before the second deer season. Alison was itching to move in on October 6.

“Yeah, I will be there for supper,” River said. “I just have one more thing to do.”

With that Mark veered off towards the camp as River and Nick continued on to the RV.

“Daddy’s home,” Nick called out as they entered. “Is my little treasure here?”

Marilyn handed Luv to her father immediately. River could tell. She was just about at her limit after a day of caring for the little one alone. It was the first day that she hadn’t had a clutch of teen and tween mothers helping her.

“You look like you could use a break,” River said. “Do you mind if Nick and I take Luv over to Grandpa Audette? I need to talk to him, and would like Nick there. And I think he probably needs his dose of Luv.”

“Yes, yes,” Marilyn said with relief. “I’ll head over to see Mom, and help her with supper. I’ll have to tell her to just slap me if I start talking baby talk to her.”

Neil was thrilled to get visitors to his little house, especially the smallest one. The house was as neat as a pin, and he was proud to offer coffees to his guests. But not too proud to take the baby and let River make the beverages. Soon they were all seated in the three easy chairs in the main room, with Luv happy on her grandpa’s lap.

“How is the divorce coming, Neil?” River asked.

He looked at Nick, who answered for them. “It has started, and a court date will come up at the end of September in Thunder Bay. I’m hopeful that it will be settled on that day. Since it is uncontested, there is no reason for a delay. With Neil not working it isn’t like she can ask for much more.”

“Good,” River said to Neil, “because I think I might have work for you. Work here on the reserve.”

“Are you planning a mine here?” Neil said with a laugh. “Because mining is probably all I know anything about.”

“Yes.” Neil’s mouth dropped, and Nick also showed surprise.

“I don’t know if either of you have met Chip Wilson,” River said. “But he is a stone mason, and I had the river teach him about all the rocks and minerals in the reserve, so he would know where to get good stone. Well, he told me something that I want to be kept secret, at least until after Neil’s divorce.”

Both men shook their heads in agreement.

“Chip said that the river told him there is a vein of gold running through the middle of the reserve. It starts out pretty small just a little north of the reserve, and then runs diagonally all the way down, ending just before the river. Chip says the river said it was a 5-ton vein. Do you know what that means?” River asked.

“Yes,” Neil said. “But are you sure it wasn’t point five-ton? That would be more normal. A 5-ton vein is one where a ton of ore will yield five ounces of gold. A half ounce would be more normal.”

“I can only tell you what Chip told me,” River said. “Is it possible for you to test it? Would you need special equipment?”

“I brought most of what I need down with me,” Neil said, pointing to the shed at the rear of the property. “It was mostly for sentimental reasons. I didn’t expect to ever use it again. I’m not going back to Sudbury until Luv is in college, and by then I’ll be too old to get a job.”

“You said that a part of the vein is outside the reserve,” Nick said. “We should make sure to wrap up claims on that land, so that nobody else can get into the vein.”

“I can do that, if you can handle the paperwork,” Neil said. “I’ve never filed my own claim, but I know what is involved.”

“I want Nick to form a mining company for us,” River said. “The band will own it, and Neil will be the first employee, as soon as his divorce goes through. We will stake out claims on the outside land that first day. Nick, can you research in case there will be problems with the band mining its reserve? And have the incorporation papers ready that first day?”

“Neil, this is all going to be volunteer work on your part, since we can’t pay you yet. But we will make sure you get compensated in the future. I need you to scope out the area, and try to figure out how much gold there is. And Chip said something about silver as well.”

“Silver is common with gold veins,” Neil said.

“I also need you to draw up a list of equipment you would need to mine the gold. Also a real business plan. How many people, what kinds of equipment and the costs, and how we are going to sell the gold. And keeping everything a secret until the last possible minute.”

“I can take core samples,” Nick said. “But as soon as they go to assay, the whole world will know the gold is there. And I should be able to eyeball the difference between a 5 and point five vein. I think I can get a good plan together in the next month. Gosh, this is exciting.”

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 31 – Mark at School

So far: River had her first day at high school, and all goes well. Her Ojibwe teacher had a sly way of letting her teach the language and history to the other students, without them knowing that she was really in charge. The river cured a newcomer to the school, although not in the way one would expect. And finally we discovered what Chip’s secret was. Now we go back a few hours and go to Mark’s first day at school.

Mrs. Cutler looked about the room, and her eyes fixed at the big boy at the back, crammed into a desk too small for him. They had moved a larger desk in from the Grade 8 class, but it was still tight on him. Clearly the boy must have learning difficulties to still be in Grade Five at his age, she assumed. She decided to test his reading ability by letting him read the first passage in one of the books in the small classroom library. Traditionally she let the first student pick the book. Even his choice of book would be an indication of his ability. There were a few Grade Three and Four level books on the shelf, as well as a few at Grade Six or Seven levels.

She looked down at her seating plan. “Mark Waters,” she said. “We need a story. Your choice.”

Mark looked up sharply, a bit surprised to be called on so early in his first day in class. He paused for a second, and then started to speak.

Long ago, in the early years, a young warrior about the age of most of the boys in this class watched in futility as the six older warriors of his band headed out to hunt. “You are too small,” they had said, leaving him behind with the women and younger boys. It didn’t help that the men had taken the bulk of the remaining food, and left the women closely guarding the rest until they returned from their hunt with a bear, deer, or moose to feed the people. Roundstones, the boy, was hungry, angry, and sad that he was too small to hunt.

Mrs. Cutler wanted to stop Mark, who clearly thought she wanted him to make up a story, and tell him to choose a book. But she was enthralled at the power of the story he was telling. The First Nations students, especially the boys, were listening with rapt attention that she wished would carry over onto her lectures, and even the girls and non-natives were paying attention to the story. She decided to let him continue.

Mark continued. Roundstones decided in his shame to go hunting on his own. Perhaps he could shoot a rabbit or groundhog to add to the community pot. So he gathered his bow and arrows, the treasured knife that his grandfather had shaped from flint many years ago, and headed out in the opposite direction to the hunting party.

After about an hour, he heard a noise and dropped to the ground, preparing his bow with an arrow. He would probably only get a single shot if it was a fast small creature like a rabbit. He lay silently on the damp soil for a long few minutes, hoping that something tasty would come by.

Ma'iingan the wolf limped into the clearing, and Roundstones nearly loosed his arrow. Wolf was not the tastiest food, but it would feed the people tonight. But something stopped Roundstones from shooting, and he instead watched silently. He was proud of his stealth. Many of the men who had gone hunting would not be able to keep quiet enough not to be detected by a wolf.

The wolf was injured though. He walked into the clearing, and Roundstones saw a large stick poking into his side. They boy thought about it. It didn’t look like a spear, but a simple branch. Perhaps the wolf had fallen off a bank or cliff onto the stick, letting it pierce his hide. At any rate, it looked serious, and the wolf suddenly tottered and then fell onto his other side.

Roundstones stood quietly. The wolf heard him rise, and looked about frantically, but was unable to gain his feet again. “Don’t worry,” Roundstones said. “I will not hurt you.” The boy could almost kick himself in frustration. Here was a meal, ready to go, and he had just promised it sanctuary. He continued to approach the animal, which had bared its fangs until the boy had spoken.

Mrs. Cutler was amazed at Mark’s story. ‘Sanctuary’ was not in a normal 10-year-old vocabulary. She guessed Mark’s age as 15, but wondered why he was still in Grade Five. Clearly the boy was intelligent. He was either making up this story on the spot, or had memorized it perfectly. At any rate, the other children were still intently listening.

“Who are you?” the wolf said.

“I am Roundstones, but you can call me Round,” the boy said. “You are hurt?”

“Yes. The pack was chasing a deer. We have not fed for several days, and were a bit reckless. I tumbled off a cliff, and fell on a stick. The rest of the pack had to chase the deer, and I was left. I hoped to make it back to our dens, but I can’t.”

“Would you like me to pull it free?” Round asked.

“If you would. I will not bite you, even if it hurts.”

“I think it will hurt,” the boy said. He then reached out and pulled out the stick, and blood began to flow.

The wolf started to lick the wound, and slowly its saliva helped seal the wound. Round poured water from his canteen out into his hand, and the wolf gently lapped it up, giving him more saliva to heal himself. Soon the wolf fell back into sleep. Round listened to it breathing and sat quietly waiting for his new friend to waken.

About an hour later, a rabbit hopped into the clearing from upwind, not smelling or hearing the boy or the wolf. Round had his arrow at the ready, and quickly shot the rabbit, piercing it in the chest. The rabbit died immediately.

Here is food for the people tonight, Round thought. But he looked at the wolf, and thought that there would be enough for the people tonight, but Ma'iingan needed food to heal himself. He picked up the still warm rabbit and brought it to the sleeping wolf. He placed the arrow wound next to the animal’s mouth, and let the blood drip in. Suddenly the wolf’s great tongue lashed out, lapping up the blood. Then his jaws clamped down on the rabbit, and squeezed more blood out. The wolf never woke.

When the wolf stopped feeding on the blood, Round decided to take the rabbit back. He was hungry too. It took more than a little work to pry the animal out of Ma'iingan’s mouth, but eventually he was able to do so. He took his knife and skinned the beast. In spite of the wolf bites, his mother might be able to do something with the pelt.

Round then cleaned the animal, leaving the entrails on a rock for the wolf when it awakened. He started a small fire, and cooked rabbit meat on sticks, eating his fill, and leaving a smaller portion raw with the entrails. Round felt full for the first time in days, and laid back on a tree, guarding the wolf from harm. It was past noon when the wolf woke with a jerk, and quickly stood, looking about furtively.

“You are better?” Round asked.

“You are real?” the wolf said. “I thought I was dreaming. I dreamed that you pulled the stick, and gave me water. Then I remember feeding on rabbit’s blood.”

“You did,” Round said. “And there is the rest of the rabbit.” He pointed, and the wolf gobbled down the food. Round had also piled the bones there, and the wolf ended his lunch by crunching bones to extract the marrow inside.

“Thank you Mark,” Mrs. Cutler said. “That will be enough for now. Tell me, where did you first hear that story?” Almost every student booed her decision to pause the story, crying out to find out what happened next.

“Just now,” Mark said. “I have heard other stories like it, and Tall John George, my Ojibwe teacher, tells me stories like it, but I made it up when you said you wanted a story. I hope it was good enough.”

“It was, Mark. Do you think you could finish it? Do you have a computer? Can you type? I think the students would like to hear, or read, the rest of the story.” There were cheers of agreement in the room. “This class is about reading, not making up stories. You will do that in later years. But if you could get the rest of the story on paper, then other students could read it. It would help them with their reading, and everyone else will hear how the story turns out.”

“Yes ma’am. My father has a computer, but I don’t type very fast. Not as fast as I think, anyway. But my sister, River, is a very fast typist, and maybe she can type the story as I say it. It is a very long story though.”

“But an interesting one,” Mrs. Cutler said. “One we all want to hear. But reading time is over, and now we have to do math. Here is a worksheet for division, to see how good you all are with numbers. Do as many as you can, and then stop if you don’t understand.” She handed out a sheet of questions, and the students hunched over their desks as the teacher went from student to student to assess their grade level in arithmetic. Most had no problem with the first half page, dividing with single digit numbers. The bottom half of the page had division with double digit numbers, and most students could do that, although a few were struggling. On the back, the same two levels of work were involved, but now remainders were required.

When she got to the back of the room, she saw Mark’s paper neatly on his desk. He was talking to the boy next to him, and Mrs. Cutler was about to rebuke him for it when she realized that he was helping the other boy. Brian Johnson had been a borderline student in math last year, actually in all subjects, but Mark was showing him how deal with remainders in the problems. And the other boy seemed to understand, and was working out how to do it on his own. The teacher flipped Mark’s paper over, and scanned the answers. They all seemed correct, including the most difficult section.

“Very good,” she said. “Let’s take up the papers and see how you all did. Every student will give the answer he or she got, and if others got something else, put your hand up and we will find out what the right answer was.”

They went through the first nine questions quickly, and no one had different results. But on the tenth question, a student said 66 divided by 11 was 5. Mrs. Cutler waited for the others to put up their hands, but only Mark did. She asked him what he got, and he said 6. That led to more than half the class also raising their hand in agreement. The teacher had seen the correct answer on many of the papers, and realized that they didn’t want to say their answer was different in case it was wrong.

“Mark, can you come up to the board and show us how you got that answer,” Mrs. Cutler asked. Mark came up and took the chalk from the teacher, who realized that the boy was several inches taller than her, which she found unusual and unsettling.

Mark wrote out the problem on the board, and completed it, telling the class what he did in each step. The teacher then changed the question to 68 divided by 11 and Mark then added the remainder into his work.

After the worksheet, Mrs. Cutler had a good idea which students had been successful at a Grade Four level, and went into her first lesson, which dealt with decimal fractions. She continued that until the bell rang for recess, and she let the students out, with Mark following behind.

Mrs. Cutler took the break and went to the principal’s office to speak with Mrs. Karsen. “It’s about Mark Waters,” she started.

“Oh no, he’s already causing problems? I was worried about that,” the principal replied.

“No, it isn’t that. He’s a great student. Polite, helpful, and he is even helping other students that aren’t so far along. His English skills seem to be at a Grade 9 level or more, and he is well ahead in math. I’m wondering why someone his age has been held back to Grade 5.”

“He hasn’t been held back,” Mrs. Karsen said. “He is only 10, soon to be 11. I suggested a higher grade for him, but his mother insisted that he stay with his peer group, even though he is physically much bigger.”

“He is only 10?” Mrs. Cutler asked. “He looks like he should be in high school.”

“Just a growth spurt,” the principal said. “Although I don’t know of any other kids with that kind of spurt. I sent for his records from Toronto, and the picture shows Mark, although his height and weight are listed much lower than now. There was no record of any aggressive behavior. In fact, there was one notation where someone else was accused of bullying him.”

“Goodness,” Mrs. Cutler said. “I’ll have to get back to class before recess ends. I intend to keep an eye on the boy.”

“Please do, and let me know if there is anything I should know.”

The rest of the morning went normally, and Mark went down to the cafeteria carrying the paper bag containing the sandwich that River had made for him this morning. He stood in the doorway, and looked around, seeing his classmates primarily at two tables. He started to head that way, and then saw a boy sitting alone at a table, with no lunch in front of him. Mark headed that way.

“Can I sit here?” he asked. The boy looked up sharply, and then down again.

“You are too late,” he said. “They already took my lunch. First day too. I have nothing left to give you.”

“I wasn’t planning to take anything from you,” Mark said. “Who took your lunch?”

The boy looked up confused, and then apprehensively pointed to four boys laughing at a table in the corner.

“What is your name?”

“Chester Mims,” the boy said. “I’m in Grade 6.”

“Wait here Chester, I’m going to get your lunch back.” Mark then headed over to the table and stood in front of the boys, who immediately noticed, and stopped laughing. “What’s up, Tonto,” one of the boys said. Over the summer his time in the sun had darkened Mark’s complexion, and he really did look like a First Nations student especially with the native necklace he wore. To Mark that was a compliment, not a slur.

“You took Chester Mims’ lunch,” he accused the group in general. “I want it back.”

“Yeah?” What if I don’t want to give it up?” one of the bigger boys said menacingly.

Mark put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and started to squeeze. “I suggest you give it up quickly, or there might be trouble. Are you left-handed?”

“Nooo,” the boy said, grimacing at the pain.

“Well you will be for the next few months while your arm is in a sling, if you don’t give me that sandwich. Now!”

“Here,” the boy said, tossing him a brown paper bag. “Probably wasn’t anything good in it.”

“Did you take anything else that doesn’t belong to you from him?” Mark continued to keep the pressure on.

“Yeah, a twoonie,” the boy said. “It’s in my pocket. Let go of me and I will get it.”

Mark let go, and as the boy fished for the money, he spoke to the entire group: “Chester Mims is my friend, and if any of you do anything to him, you can count on me doing much worse to you. And the entire Grade 5 class is off limits to you as well. He turned and walked away. As he did, he heard one of the other bullies complaining to the first for giving up the food and money. “You didn’t feel what I felt,” the boy said. “He is stronger than my Dad.”

“I am so dead,” Chester said as Mark tossed his lunch and the two dollar coin in front of him. “They will kill me now.”

“No they won’t,” Mark said. “If they even look at you funny, you tell me. You are my friend, and I don’t let bullies bother my friends.”

“What?”

“I said I don’t let bullies bother my friends,” Mark repeated.

“No. The bit where you said you are my friend. Do you really mean that?”

“Yes, why?”

“I … I’ve never really had a friend before. And you are so big. Why do you want a little Grade 6 for a friend?”

“I’m only Grade 5,” Mark said. “Though I am pretty big. Don’t you want a friend?”

“Yes. Yes please. I … I just can’t believe it. My life has always sucked. I can’t remember when anything this good has ever happened to me.”

The two boys chatted over lunch, getting to know each other. Mark actually compared Chester to Paul, his old Toronto friend, who was into the same comics, computer games, and books. Chester was actually smiling as he headed off to class.

Meanwhile, over at the bullies’ table the four were plotting revenge.

“We can’t let that punk muscle into our action,” the tallest of the four, Josh Neil, said.

“I don’t think he is muscling in,” Aiden Roush, the boy who still had a bruised shoulder, added. “I saw him give the money to the little squirt.”

“Well we can’t let him cut off the entire fifth grade. We need to find punks in there with cash,” Tyler Tutt said.

“He’s strong,” Aiden said. “My shoulder still hurts, and I don’t think that is the worst he could have done.”

“But there are four of us,” a chubbier boy, Zak VanEssen said. “We can take him.”

“I don’t know,” Aiden hesitated.

“Listen, this is what we do,” Josh said, and kneeled over the table, ignoring the warning bell for the end of lunch.

It was the following day when the bullies pulled their plan into action, Mark was among the last of the boys headed to the bus. Suddenly, four boys leapt out of the bushes near the entrance, holding a hockey stick, baseball bat, a large stick, and a knife.

“You’re going down, punk,” Aiden said, holding the knife.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Mark said. “The last kids to jump me wound up in hospital. And they were a year older, and bigger than you guys. Drop the weapons and you won’t get hurt.”

“You’re the one getting hurt,” Aiden yelled. “Get him, guys.”

Tyler came in from the left and Josh from the right, both swinging their weapons, the hockey stick and the baseball bat. As they swung, Mark dropped to the ground, and their blows missed. Missed Mark, that is. The baseball bat collided with Tyler’s face, and Josh got the hockey stick full on his temple. Both boys dropped, even as Mark was rolling back into a defensive stance.

“Shit, he’s a ninja,” Zak shouted, dropping his stick. Aiden hesitated and then turned to run as well, but ran right into Steven Handel, the Grade 7 teacher, sticking his knife into the man accidently.

“Ow!” the man said, grasping his side but holding Aiden with one arm. The knife had barely scratched him but had ruined his suit jacket. “I saw it all.” He turned and Mrs. Karsen was there. “Those four punks from my class last year did it. They attacked this new boy, and hurt themselves. Are you okay?” he asked Mark.

“Fine. A little dusty. I tried to warn them,” he said.

“Somebody should call an ambulance for these two, and the police for this one. Carrying a knife will interest them,” Mr. Handel said.

“Are you sure that other boy had nothing to do with it?” Mrs. Karsen said. “Boys don’t just go around attacking other boys for no reason.”

“It was because of me,” It was Chester, speaking up tentatively. “They took my lunch yesterday and a twoonie. Mark got them back. I think that is why they went after him.”

“Had they ever taken money from you before?” Mrs. Karsen said.

“Nearly every day last year,” the boy said.

“And others?” she asked in amazement. The students had abandoned the buses when the fight had started, and now were clustered around them. More than a few students in the crowd nodded.

“I told you last term that those students were causing problems and bullying,” Mr. Handel accused the principal. “But you didn’t want to listen.”

“But they were such good boys,” she replied.

“Yes, in Grade 3 when you had them. Kids change. We need to get them straightened out now, or they will wind up as thugs.”

Mrs. Karsen paused for a second, and then shook herself into action. She clapped her hands to quiet the chattering crowd of students. “I want to see all of you on the buses immediately. Except for Chester and anyone else who these boys had taken money or possessions from.”

Just then the ambulance pulled up, and EMTs rushed out to tend to the fallen boys. Tyler was stirring groggily, but Zak was still out cold. “Who was the fourth boy?” Mrs. Karsen asked. “Josh Neil I expect.”

“Yes, he ran off when the others went down,” Mr. Handel said. Come on you lot. He took a rather large group of students into the Grade 7 classroom, just inside the door, and found that the 32 seats in the room were not enough for everyone to sit. Mark stood near the front, as well as several others who lined the back wall. The police arrived a few minutes later and Mr. Handel described what he had seen. He had come out of the door just as the boys surrounded Mark and started yelling at him.

Mark was taken into a separate room to talk to one officer, while the other took names and information from the others who had lost money to the boys last year. Apparently four others had been accosted that day. Chester was led off with the officer who had taken Mark, and was relieved to see his new friend was smiling as the officer brought him back. It made him less apprehensive about being questioned. “Just tell the truth,” Mark whispered as they crossed paths.

Alison arrived about a half hour after the end of classes, which meant she must have been speeding on the trip to Terrace Bay from St. Mary’s. She was relieved to find Mark unhurt, and then proceeded to take a strip off the principal, threatening to take Mark out of school if they couldn’t protect him.

Mark finally had to get her to calm down. He pointed out that the school had done nothing wrong, and that Mr. Handel had been at hand to see everything. As the adrenaline let up, Alison realized she may have overreacted, and apologized to the principal, who graciously accepted, and offered her apologies in kind, noting that the four boys would be suspended, with possible worse repercussions, depending on the police investigation. Mark would be held completely blameless.

Everything would have been fine at that point, but then Charles VanEssen stormed into the meeting as it was about to break up, screaming that he wanted to know which boy had put his son into the hospital.

“You should have asked at the hospital,” Mr. Handel said. “It was Tyler Tutt who hit your son. I saw it. They were attacking another boy, and missed, hitting each other.”

“I spoke to Tyler at the hospital. He said there was a high-school or college age boy in the school, and they were just protecting themselves.”

“I can assure you that there are no students in the school this year who are older than Grade 8,” Mrs. Karsen said.

Mr. VanEssen then noticed Mark. “What about that boy? He certainly looks older than Grade 8.”

Mark stood up, and moved within a few feet of the irate parent. “I am in Grade 5, sir.”

“Do you think I am a fool?” the man said, starting to lose his cool.

“What I think is not important,” Mark said calmly. The man was four inches taller, and 50 pounds heavier, but Mark was not intimidated. “What you say or do is what people judge you by.”

“Why you little …” The man took a swing, and Mark ducked it easily, dropping into his defensive stance. The older man had no chance to take another swing, as the two police officers grabbed him. But he tried, and struck the female officer on the side of the head with a glancing blow as they subdued him. He rode back to the police station in the back of a cruiser.

Mark drove home with Alison, and got to the campsite where an anxious River was preparing a dinner for the family. Dale, who had been called by Alison from Terrace Bay, was home early, and Mark had to recount his adventures for the family.

River wanted to know if Mark needed a trip to the river to cool down, and he declined. “The river gave me what I needed already,” he said. “I’m big enough, and quick enough, and I have a sense when someone is about to hit me. That lets me get away most of the time. There is something I would like you to do, though.”

“What is that?” River asked.

“I need someone to type some stuff up for my English class. Quite a bit, actually.” He recounted his telling of the story to his fellow students, and the teacher’s request that he get it on the computer.

“That sounds like a lot,” River said. “Do we have the computer at home?”

“Yes, I brought it to do a few things tonight,” Dale said. “But I don’t want you taking it into the river and ruining it.”

“I do want to take it into the river, and I can promise that it won’t be ruined, or hurt in any way. We really will need to get another one. I need some time with it for my homework too. Now that the house in Toronto is sold, we should be able to afford another one.”

“The house is sold,” Dale admitted, “but that doesn’t mean we have the money yet. When it comes through, we’ll talk about another computer.”

“Okay, but until we get one, can you make sure to bring the old one home each night? I can do my homework in the river in the morning.”

River then turned to her brother. “And it sounds like we have a couple hours of work if you want the whole story on a stick. You’ll have to get up early with me.”

“River,” Alison shouted. “You can’t wake him at two a.m. He’s only 10. He needs his sleep.”

“Why? I certainly hope it isn’t because he is a growing boy. He doesn’t need to do any growing for a couple more years. Relax. He will be refreshed and energized by his time in the river, just like I am. And you will even be able to save cooking him a breakfast in the morning.”

“Nooooo!” Mark said. “I still need my breakfast. I like bacon.”

If I get more than a few requests, I will complete Mark’s story about the young native boy as a River standalone story. This will be a non-transgender story.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Okay gang. Another chapter, and it is a day early too. But I have to warn you, there is hunting in this one. I know a lot of you didn’t like the deer-hunting chapter. This one is different, in that it is hunting for sport, not food. But note that hunting/guiding is a major component of First Nations economies.

Chapter 32 – Moose Hunting

So far: Mark has an interesting first few days at school, showing his teacher that he is not a slow student, and helps others in the class. He makes a friend at lunch, which leads to an after-school fracas the following day.

River woke up at 2, and then went to wake Mark. She expected more of a battle getting her brother out of bed early, but actually found him quick to get moving and dressed. While River never used a flashlight to get to the river Mark needed one to see clearly.

They both got into the river, and for about a half hour River communed with the river while Mark just charged his sleepy body up. After that, River got the computer, and for the next few hours Mark narrated his story, storing it on a memory stick. They sat underwater, and communicated through the river. The laptop never got wet, and River noticed that it even registered as recharging while in the water.

River had a little homework of her own to do after, and finished it as Mark watched the otters cavort in the early dawn light.

Mark handed Mrs. Cutler the stick when he got off the bus, and then headed out to the playground to keep an eye on things. The Grade 8 boys, with a few of the Grade 7s, were playing baseball in one corner of the play area, and asked Mark to join in. Mark knew he was well ahead of any of the boys physically, so he politely refused, but did volunteer to be umpire. Normally disputes about balls and strikes, or whether or not a boy was out on base caused games to degenerate into arguing matches, but with an umpire none of this happened. The boys quickly learned that Mark was extremely fair, and was calling the game without favorites.

When the bell rang, the boys broke up and ran for class, with Mark trotting along with them. He enjoyed the game, and found that he could concentrate on a pitch or hit, and still take a look around the schoolyard between plays to make sure there was no trouble anywhere.

In class, Mrs. Cutler had printed out sets of the 16 pages that Mark had narrated in the morning, more than three times as much as she expected. It was again time to do reading, as on the first day, so she had the poorer readers in the class take turns reading a few lines each of Mark’s story, and was amazed at how the story interested them, and caused them to work on the words. The better readers in the class were reading ahead, and the students who had finished reading aloud were actually continuing to follow along, something the poor readers never did. The teacher was amazed at how the students had taken in the story, and the interest it was causing.

At lunch, Chester had a sandwich, and Mark went to sit with him. Then several of the boys from the baseball game joined them, and soon Chester was making friends with boys a year or two older than him. The boy had a good sense of humor, and soon had the other boys laughing at his jokes.

River found her third day of school largely uneventful. In her science class her teacher started a section on the flora and fauna of the area. River objected to learning from the book, and wondered why they weren’t out in the real world, looking at plants and animals instead of pictures.

“We really don’t have the time to go outside,” the teacher explained. “Few animals will be around, and it would be inefficient.”

“It is a beautiful day, and I bet we will see at least 10 different species of bird, and 10 different kinds of animal. And we will be able to identify at least 25 plants, all without leaving the school grounds,” River challenged.

The teacher decided to take the girl up on her bet. “All right,” she said. “But if we don’t see that many items, then I expect a 10-page essay from you on the flora and fauna of the Canadian Shield.”

The class went out, and even though the period was nearly a quarter over, River started to point things out. Squirrels and chipmunks were the first animals, followed by field mice and a mole. They saw nine different animals before the end of the class, as well as more than a dozen different types of bird. River pointed out many different plants, from the basics like trees and grass to different wildflowers and herbs growing along the riverbank.

“The bell is about to ring, River,” the teacher said. “You have reached your target of plants and birds, but I think you fell short on animals. But it was a good effort, and I think everyone learned a lot more than they would have if we had stayed in class. No essay is required.”

“But the tenth animal just showed up,” River said. Many of the students were pointing. Night was standing at the edge of the river, not 30 feet away from the students. The teacher turned, and then gasped at the sight of the wolf.

“Please, everyone head back to the school. Now!” she said. She was clearly afraid.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Newton,” River said. “That is a friend of mine. He will come back for the other two periods with the other classes. It wouldn’t be fair for them to have to just take the lesson from the book. He won’t get this close when I am not around, but he will show up so the kids can see a real wolf.”

“Your friend?” the teacher stammered. “I apologize. You seem to know much more about the flora and fauna of this area than I do, and I’ve been teaching it for five years.”

Alison was preparing for the meeting that evening that should see the Ojibwe Credit Union formed. The people of Moose Portage had heard about the meeting, and were sending several elders to attend, as were the elders of Stone Ledge. Both reserves hoped that the credit union would open branches on their reserves.

Alison was unsure if that could happen. Both reserves were as large as the river reserve, but none of them had the investments that had been saved here. Having a branch in each reserve would probably be a money-losing proposition. The retail end of banking is not very lucrative, particularly with credit unions, who refuse to charge high fees to their users.

“What about part-time branches on alternate days? That would cut costs.”

“That still wouldn’t work. Branches could be set up on a desk at each band office, and perhaps an ATM outside. But the labor costs would still be too high. You would have to have someone going to four different reserves of that size to break even.”

“Then do four,” Dale said. “Mornings in one, then afternoons in another. And two different locations the next day. Like River says, it is a service, so you serve people. Just having an ATM on the reserves would be huge for the people.”

“That might actually work,” Alison said. “Not something we could do in the first year, but maybe after a year we could look at it as an expansion. Thanks honey, now at least I can offer something for those people at the meeting. Everything else seems to be under control. Oh, I have to run that idea by Nick. He is good for seeing the faults in some of my harebrained schemes.”

“By the way,” Dale said. “I was at the store yesterday talking to Connie. I’ve worked out the materials needed to make your office and the teller station. I will get to work on it tomorrow if the meeting passes everything.”

“Oh thanks love,” Alison said. “But this is supposed to be your holiday.”

“I had the best holiday of my life on the weekend, hunting with my son,” Dale said. “Yesterday I was totally bored until I went to the store. Plus, I really want to be able to give my guys a paycheck every week that they can cash in town without having to pay a commission.”

The entire Waters family was at the high school gym that night for the meeting. Alison was on stage with elders from the three reservations, as well as Nick and a half dozen invited businessmen. Even the town mayor was there. To River’s surprise the Mayor was a 60-year-old woman who worked as a cleaner at the hospital. She was friendly, smart and well-spoken, and she welcomed Alison and all the others to the town, claiming that it was past time for a financial institution to come to the town.

Alison spoke most of the time, with Nick adding bits here and there. The first big moment came an hour into the meeting when a vote was held to see if there was any interest in forming a credit union. Every hand in the place was raised.

Then came the hard part. A board needed to be formed. Alison and Nick were not eligible as employees, and at first no one was willing to volunteer. Then members of the First Nations started to volunteer, and soon there were four from the local band, and two others, one from each of the other bands.

Then there was another pause, broken when the mayor volunteered. Nelson Churchill raised his hand, and River thought he was volunteering, but instead he nominated his wife, who accepted. Once people realized that they could nominate others, the remaining four slots were filled quickly. People felt pride in being nominated by others, and generally accepted, and Alison was happy with the quality of members selected.

The final step came when the new board took to the stage, and Nick swore them in. Alison asked them to approve borrowing $75,000 from the reserve, at prime rate, which would allow for construction of the offices and purchase of an ATM machine. Alison noted that the ATM machines cost $10,000 each, and if the other reserves hope to have branches set up in the future, each band would need to come up with at least $12,000 to cover the costs.

The next day River pretty much led the science class, taking the students out again. This time they went to the river, and the entire class stood on the bank. River had various species of fish come by and leap out of the water, allowing the students to see and recognize them. She even had males and females of each species make the jump.

After a short quiz, where River would have a fish jump, and the students had to identify it, beavers came by and two worked diligently to chop down a cedar sapling, and then swim off pushing the tree upriver. Finally, a group of otters came by and the class was entertained for the last ten minutes of the period watching them cavort and play in the bank.

“Tomorrow I could bring a bear and a moose,” River said, “but I think they would cause too much commotion coming through the town.”

“No bear,” Mrs. Newton said. “A moose might be a bit too much as well.”

“Well, how about a deer?” River said.

“Yes please,” called out several students. “And a fawn too?” one asked.

“Too late in the year to see a fawn, I think,” River said. “But we could have a mother and two young deer I know come in. It is hunting season, so they are a bit skittish right now, but most hunters know enough to leave a doe and her young alone. I will see what I can do.”

The next morning River was at the river with Mark, and the two were narrating more of Mark’s story for reading class. They didn’t need it yet, Mr. Cutler still had more than 10 pages to read in class. But Mark wanted to finish up the story, and knew that some of the better readers in the class had already finished the first part.

As dawn neared River got a tingle from the river, and stood up. The largest moose she had ever seen had come up to drink from the river. River stood in awe as she looked at it. The antlers were wider than she was tall. It stood nearly eight feet tall, and had to splay its gangly legs to drink. As it tried to stand erect again, River thought she sensed pain.

Does it hurt? she asked.

Yes, of course it does, the animal replied, not at all surprised that she could communicate with it.

Do you want to come into the river, River said. Maybe it will cure you?

There is no cure for old age, the moose replied. This is my last year. I didn’t even participate in the rut. I let the younger bucks fight it out, and just walked away. I’ve been on my own for a few suns now. Soon I will be no more.

Come into the river anyway, the girl said. The moose thought for a few seconds, and then almost fell into the water: it was so clumsy in entering.

That feels good, it said.

Is it curing you?

No, but the pain is gone. Now I will be able to run and give the hunters a chase when they come with their firesticks, it said.

“Noooo,” River said aloud. “You are too beautiful to die.”

All animals die, the moose said. At least I will be able to go with dignity. I just wish that it could be one of your people, with arrows. The firesticks scare me.

I have an idea, River answered. It wouldn’t be our people who hunt you, but one of our people will guide hunters with bows. Some people would pay a lot of money to hunt a magnificent creature like you. And if you are going anyway, it might be a good way to go.

No firesticks?

Only arrows.

Then I agree, the moose said. Just then Mark stood up, having finished his math homework, and when the moose saw him it bolted, leaving the river much more gracefully than he had entered it.

Colin Redhawk sat on the bus with River that morning as they rode to school, and River explained the plan. He agreed to get something online immediately, but said they needed a picture. River said she would arrange for April Audette to get something good.

After school that day April came to River’s afternoon session, where River sang the history to more visitors from other bands. They were starting to come even from places that Rod and the girls had not yet been to as word spread. This particular group was surprised when a massive moose approached the river while River was singing.

April got good pictures of the moose and the crowd in the water, and then another shot of River getting close to it. She was even able to pat its nose. They took the pictures to Colin’s home, and he immediately uploaded them to his computer.

“We should use this one,” he said, pointing at a picture with River about 10 feet from the moose. “If we use the one where you are petting it, people will think it is a fake, or a pet animal. And we can use this one, where all the people are in the water with you. A sort of ‘moose photobombs ceremony’ kind of thing. I think these will attract attention on the web.”

The following day on the bus ride Colin let River know that the pictures had gone viral overnight, and had been picked up by the websites of bow and hunter magazines. He had also put up a page on eBay offering hunters a chance to participate in the hunt for the moose and the magazine sites linked to it. The top eight bids would be accepted, at the price of the eighth bid.

On Sunday the eBay auction ended, with eight bids at over $12,000. The moose season would start the following Friday, and the winning bidders would have to be at the reserve at 6 a.m. that morning to go out hunting with Tall John, who River had chosen as the guide. It turned out that most of the winning bidders were able to make the deadline, since they were self employed, or just plain rich. The two who couldn’t were quickly replaced by the next highest bidders, who agreed to pay the $12,000.

The deal was that the charge would drop to $1000 if no one shot the moose. The man whose arrow killed the moose, in the sole opinion of Tall John, would get the trophy and the hide. All the men would get a share of the meat. Any who did not want the meat could donate it to the people of the band. The event would last two weeks, or until the moose was killed, whichever came first. Any hunter who left early would forfeit their full fee, even if the moose was not taken.

The hunt arrived with most of the men on time, or nearly so. Several had flown into Terrace Bay on their private jets. Another group had to land in Thunder Bay, since their jets were too large for the Terrace Bay airstrip. They arrived by limo. Most camped out the night before in the park, with only the two latecomers coming in that morning.

It was nearly seven when Tall John led the men out of the reserve. They went in the back of two pickup trucks about 12 miles to the north, and then Tall John had them walk another two miles on foot before they set up camp.

Tall John had the men demonstrate their bow prowess, and almost all were quite skilled. One does not spend $12,000 for a sport you are not adept at. Except for one man, who was quite inept. He pleaded to be able to use his rifle instead, but Tall John instead started giving him bow lessons.

The other men spent that time having an arrow-shooting competition, with bets of $1000 each. Tall John heard of the contest, and joked that he should enter and double his fee. The man who eventually won cleared almost enough to cover the cost of his entry into the pool. But the contest was repeated almost every day of the trip, although eventually only five were participating. And the bet dropped down to $500, and then $250 as the novelty wore off.

On the third day of the hunt Tall John discovered a massive moose print in the mud of a streambed. This got the lagging interest of the men back up, although two days later it was low again. That day they saw the moose at a distance, and all eight hunters were astounded at its size.

For each of the next four days, the hunters spotted the animal again at least once, and once three times in the day. Most times the animal was closer than the prior time it was spotted, and the men continued to be avidly into the hunt.

During this time the beginner bowman had developed minimal skills. At least he wouldn’t miss and shoot his partners, John thought.

On the tenth day of the hunt Tall John told the men they needed help, and he was going to call in his assistants. He whistled, and about five minutes later Night trotted into the campsite, and a minute later Silver followed.

The men were clearly alarmed at wolves in their camp, and went for their bows, until Tall John stopped them. He gave Night a big hug, as he explained that this was the help they needed. Eventually all the men eased up, and even took pictures of themselves with the wolves as additional souvenirs of the hunt.

The next day the two wolves went out and chased the moose towards the hunters, and the following day it managed to get close enough that most of the men got a shot off before it veered away. One arrow hit, but it was a glancing blow that bounced off the leathery rump of the animal.

It was just before noon on the twelfth day that the moose was brought down. Tall John was out like a shot, and finished the dying animal off with his knife. The men gathered around, and found that five of them had arrows in the animal.

Three were close to the heart, and there was an argument over who got it. Tall John had to cut into the animal to find which arrow was closest to the heart. The lucky hunter gloated, but all eight men had photos taken with the great moose. For seven of them, this would be their only trophy of the hunt.

“Where are the wolves?” the inept bowman asked.

“They have gone for the truck,” Tall John said.

“They can drive a truck?” the man joked.

“No, but they will let my friends in the reserve know we are ready. We will clean and skin the animal while they are coming. This seems to be near a ton in weight, far too much to carry out, even among nine.”

“A truck?” the hunter who had made the lucky shot griped. “Why the hell have we been walking all over this god forsaken country if you had trucks around?”

“Because we were hunting, not sightseeing,” Tall John sneered. “Are you not happy? You got the prize.”

The man admitted that he was happy. In fact, all of them were. The trucks, two pickups, arrived at about three, and had chests with ice for the meat. By this time the carcass had been cut and skinned, with the bones and entrails in a pile. The meat and the men were loaded into the backs of the trucks, along with the trophy and pelt.

The trip back was about 15 miles, and took a half hour. Many of the men left immediately and the others spent a last night in camp, although in the nicer surroundings of the park.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 33 – Wayne’s Mission

So far: Night taught a science class, the Credit Union is started, and already expansion plans are made, and a massive moose chooses an honorable way to die.

Wayne arrived at the dorm in London with his roommate Jeremy just after noon on Monday. They spent the next few hours unloading the car and setting up their rooms. The dorm had two separate bedrooms with a shared bathroom and kitchenette, not the shared bedroom only type with a washroom down the hall like they had been in as freshmen.

Once the car was empty, Wayne drove it to the garage. He had worried about storage, since parking on campus was unavailable unless you held a doctorate. One of the frats had offered to take it, and park it in their yard, but they wanted the keys ‘in case it needed to be moved’. Wayne saw through that immediately, knowing that the car would be out every night with a different frat member trying to impress a different co-ed. Instead he got Nick’s permission to pay a local service station $100 a week to store it. There was a fenced in area behind the lot where the station kept his loaner cars, and Nick’s fine car nestled nicely in it.

The first three weeks of term were chaotic. The first week was full of events, mostly aimed at freshmen, but classes were generally a bit slack for second years as well, since many students would be changing sections, or not have the right texts. Week two was when the crunch would start. Half the campus was either drunk or hungover that first week, including Jeremy. Wayne had been the same way the year before, but now, thinking of River and her message about alcohol, he stayed sober.

He showed the car twice the first week, and three times the second week, and actually sold it for $3000 more than Nick had expected. When he phoned the lawyer back at the reserve, he was hoping Nick would offer him part of the extra. Nick instead told him to keep it all, which meant he had earned $6,000 commission for selling the car. His year at the school was pretty much paid for, between that and the money he had earned over the summer leading the Junior Rangers.

It was late September by the time he decided to undertake the mission River and Manitou had given him: to go to the burial place of Tecumseh on the banks of the Thames River. He initially wanted to go by canoe, but Jeremy squelched that idea, noting that in the fall the Thames was so low in places that Wayne would have to carry the canoe as much as he could paddle it. The Thames in Canada is nowhere as large as the one in England.

“Well, I guess I will walk it then,” Wayne said.

“Are you crazy?” Jeremy said, looking at the route on Google Maps. “You had a car until a week ago. You could have driven it in a half hour, and been there and back in an afternoon. It will take a week to walk.”

“It’s only 30 kilometers by car,” Wayne said looking at the map. “But it will be nearly 30 miles if I walk along the river. I can walk 25 miles a day if I push it, so it will be a nice two-day walk.”

“If you can stay on the river,” Jeremy pointed out. “Look, right here is Storybook Gardens, the kids park. They will have admission to get in there. And here and here are golf courses. Do you think they will let you walk along them?”

“I guess I will just ask,” Wayne said. “Do you want to come along? I will have to leave at noon on Friday and be back before 1 on Monday, if I don’t want to miss any classes.”

“No, I’m staying here on the weekend. There is a mixer at one of the sororities that I’ve been invited to. Tramp along the river for four days or date with a hot co-ed? I wonder which one I should do?”

Nick phoned the park and the golf courses, and found out that as Jeremy said, walking along the river was not allowed at the park. But it was on the wrong side of the river anyway. The golf courses were not, and one allowed walking on the course, as long as you stayed on the bank, while the other banned it completely. Wayne plotted a course through the subdivisions around that course. It would add an hour to his route, but he had promised Manitou that he would do this mission.

On Friday he went to his Psych course in his walking gear. He had his full pack, including his bow, stored in his locker, and after class ended he grabbed them and left campus, although not without several students making ‘Tonto’ jokes at him in his gear.

He walked all afternoon, and came to the golf course he had to avoid at about 6 p.m. He left the Thames, and started through the subdivisions, noticing that they were all large, expensive homes. About half way through his detour he saw an older man with a German shepherd dog nearly as old walking, and the man started yelling.

“Who are you? You shouldn’t be here. Damned Indians. You think you own the place,” he yelled. “Get him Rex.”

“We did, once,” Wayne said softly, more as a joke, but the man seemed to take it as a threat. Wayne had continued to walk, and was getting closer. The dog growled, and Wayne reached out, thinking of how he had spoken to the bear with River. I mean no harm to you or your master, he said, and the dog stopped growling and started to wag its tail.

“You’ve witched my dog,” the man shouted, getting more and more agitated. “Don’t come any closer. I’m calling the police.” Wayne sighed, and started to cross the street to avoid upsetting the man further. It was a little more delay, but he didn’t want to scare an old man. He had just stepped off the curb when he saw the man fall.

Help him, he heard a frantic voice, and realized that it was the dog. Wayne hurried over and found the man unconscious, half on the sidewalk, and half on the grass. Luckily his head had hit grass, not concrete.

“9-1-1, how can I help you,” Wayne heard. The man had been holding a cellphone, and apparently had dialed for help before collapsing. Wayne picked up the phone.

“Wayne Stormcloud here,” he said. “I didn’t start this call, but the man who did has collapsed, and may have had a heart attack. Can you send an ambulance?” Wayne gave the address of the nearest house and then looked over the man.

“Please stay on the line,” the 9-1-1 operator said.

“I have you on speaker,” Wayne said. “But the man seems to not be breathing. I’m going to give him mouth-to-mouth. I have a Red Cross CPR certificate.”

Wayne then started doing mouth-to-mouth for what seemed like a long time, until he heard sirens. The first EMT looked at how he was doing it, and said: “Keep it up sir, while we set up.” A minute later the EMTs took over and Wayne slumped on the grass, exhausted. Before he got his breath back entirely, a police officer was standing over him.

“Can you tell me who he is?” the officer said.

“No I can’t,” Wayne answered. “I was just walking along the river, but the golf course doesn’t allow walking, so I was skirting it. This man saw me, and I guess assumed I was a problem, and got pretty agitated. I was crossing the road to avoid him when he collapsed.”

“Here is a wallet,” an EMT said, handing it to the officer. “The man is breathing, weakly, and has a weak heartbeat. I don’t know if he will make it, but this man clearly kept him alive until we got here.”

“Thanks,” the officer told the EMT, who then helped his partner load the man in the ambulance, and they sped away. The officer opened the wallet, reading aloud. “Gordon Millet. He lives in 243, three houses down.” He pointed and Wayne noted the fancy house, nearly a mansion. “You say you never saw him before?”

The officer grilled Wayne for another half hour, and they walked up to his house, finding no one at home. Finally the officer said that he believed Wayne was not a problem, and thanked him for his help. He looked at the dog. “I should have called animal control sooner. We will have to take this fellow to the kennel, I guess. Can you help me get him into the back seat of my squad car? He seems to like you.”

“Yes I can,” Wayne said, then he had a thought. “Officer, would I be allowed to take the dog with me? He will be good company on my hike, and he will certainly enjoy it more than a weekend in the kennel. I can’t keep him permanently, not living in a dorm, but if the man can’t care for him I will drop him at the kennel when we get back.”

The officer thought for a moment. “Sure, I guess so, if you are willing to take responsibility for him. I’m only required to make sure someone is looking after him. Have a nice trip.”

The officer got into the car, and Wayne and Rex headed off on their hike, arriving back at the Thames an hour later than Wayne had planned. They continued to walk until dusk, and then until full darkness fell. Wayne set up camp, using a small khaki pup tent that couldn’t be seen from the streets. He planned to be up and on the road again before dawn, to avoid anti-camping ordinances.

Rex and Wayne ate a cold meal, with the dog happily sharing a tin of tuna from Wayne’s pack. There wasn’t going to be enough food for him now but Wayne knew he would be able to pick up more in Oneida. He certainly wasn’t going to try and hunt so close to the city.

The next morning they were up early as the sun struggled to rise, and the small tent was packed up quickly. It had been warmer than Wayne had expected with the dog lying next to him. Soon they were on their way.

They reached Oneida just before noon, and Wayne first went to a local variety store, where he bought some more supplies, including two cans of dog food. He asked the native woman at the counter about Tecumseh’s grave, but got nothing but a blank stare in return. The Ojibwe of the Oneida apparently didn’t know that the grave was on their land, or weren’t talking about it.

Luckily, Manitou had shown Wayne exactly where the grave was, nestled under three oak trees. He had actually walked past the trees on his way to the store. He headed back there now.

Wayne searched around under the huge old oak. It was over 100 years old, but that still wasn’t old enough to have been the original, over 200 years ago. Wayne scouted around under the tree and found acorns. As he picked each up he got a good vibration in his soul, or not. The two without the good vibration, he discarded, and picked up a replacement until he had three that he was sure were good and fertile.

With that done, he knelt down in front of the tree and prayed to Manitou, thanking Tecumseh for all that he had done for the people, and letting the warrior know that he was still loved, and admired, and sacred to the people. He lit a plug of sweetgrass, and blessed the area. Wayne was still too young to be a regular official at ceremonies, but Harold Redbear had shown him the steps, and given him a braid of sweetgrass for this trip.

Wayne finally stood up and saw that he had an audience. An ancient-looking man and a young boy stood and watched him.

“What’re you doing,” the man asked roughly.

“Honoring the grave of Tecumseh,” Wayne said calmly.

“Tecumseh fell at Moravian,” the man said. “You should go there to honor him.”

“He fell there, but is buried here, beneath this oak,” Wayne said, and the man’s eyes widened. “Manitou himself showed me this place, and sent me on a quest to find it. I have taken three acorns from this place to take back to our reserve on the shore of Lake Superior. We would plant trees there to honor the Great Warrior.”

“I am the keeper of the trees. None but I and the boy know who lies here. It is so that the Great Warrior can rest in peace. My entire life I have gathered acorns from this tree, and the other two, so that if the tree dies I can plant a new one. I planted that tree,” he pointed to one that was about 50 years old, “but these others will have to be replaced by my great-grandson.” The boy nodded.

Wayne bowed, first to the old elder, and then to the young boy, whose eyes widened in surprise. Apparently he had never been honored before, as his task in life was a secret.

Wayne and Rex spent the night with the old man, the boy having been sent to his parents’ home. The next morning they were up at dawn, and found the old man up already, preparing Wayne a full breakfast. Rex got one of the cans of dog food and was happily full as they headed back up the Thames towards the university.

They made better time on the way back, and continued working their way back until dusk. It was fully dark when they got to the golf course, and were able to use streetlights to see as they walked around it.

When they came to the old man’s house, Wayne noted that there was now a car in the drive that had not been there before. He went up to the door and rang.

“Who is it?” The voice inside was frail, female, and elderly, and Wayne understood her not opening the door even a little.

“Mrs. Millet?” he asked. “I think I have your dog here.” At that Rex barked.

“Rex?” Wayne heard chains unclasped and locks opened and then the door opened a bit. Rex bounded in.

“It is you,” the voice said to the dog, and the door opened wider. “Please come in. You must be the man who saved my Gordon,” an old woman said. She was nearly as old as the man had been, naturally. “Please come in. I owe you so much. And you have looked after Rex too.”

“You owe me nothing,” Wayne told her. “And Rex has looked after me as much as the other way around the past few days. I’m just glad to get him home.”

“I did miss him last night,” the woman admitted. “Coming home from the hospital to this old house, and then realizing that it could have really been empty permanently, if not for you.”

“Gordon is all right then?”

“Yes, bless you. They say he should be able to get out of the hospital in two days. They don’t keep people there very long anymore, do they? And he won’t be entirely his old self. He may need a walker, or oxygen. They aren’t sure yet.”

“I feel bad,” Wayne said. “I think I might have sparked his heart attack.”

“Don’t dear,” the old lady said. “It was too much fatty foods that caused the heart attack. But you are right, Gordon always did have a thing against Indians, and you certainly are dressed up like one. Are you really Indian?”

“We prefer First Nations,” Wayne said softly.

“Well Gordon, for one, has changed his mind. Possibly for the first time in his life. The policeman said you gave him mouth-to-mouth for nearly 10 minutes, and it saved his life. He wants to meet you now, you know. You can come back after he is out?”

“Yes, I will try. But now I am tired and wonder if I might camp in your back yard for the night. I will be up early in the morning and gone, so as not to bother you.”

“You will do no such thing,” the lady said. “You will spend the night in my guest room, and I will fix you something to eat first, if you want.”

“A snack would be nice,” Wayne agreed, and soon had a hearty can of stew and several slices of bread to make a satisfying meal as Donna Millet kept up her non-stop chatter. When he was finished, he was shown to the guest room, and invited to shower in the adjacent bathroom in the morning. That night Rex again slept on the floor next to him.

When morning came Wayne did shower, and came downstairs to find another full breakfast waiting for him. I’m eating better on this trip than I would in the dorm, he thought to himself as Mrs. Millet chattered on. Finally he took his leave.

There was a touching scene at the door. Mrs. Millet waved goodbye, and Rex ran down the walk to catch up to Wayne. He apparently had fun on the trip, and wanted more. Wayne had to speak to him, verbally telling him to stay, but also mentally explaining that he was needed to protect Donna and give her company. The dog still hesitated until Wayne promised to come back and visit soon. Donna had made him promise to come back in two weeks to allow Gordon to thank him.

Wayne left, arriving back in time to go to the dorm and change out of his hiking clothes. There were no taunts of ‘Tonto’ at him as he went to his Logistics class.

Two weeks later Wayne was with the Millets again, although this time coming by bus. He spent a long Sunday afternoon with the family, and a fabulous roast beef dinner prepared by Donna. Gordon greeted him warmly, and by the end of the afternoon they had bonded well. Rex spent most of the time at Wayne’s feet, and Gordon joked that he had ‘stolen my dog.’

Gordon was frail, and Wayne worried that he might not have long to live. He wondered if River might be able to help him. He seemed like a good person. He suggested that the couple might want to head up to the river for the Thanksgiving weekend (the second Monday of October in Canada). The couple hummed and hawed about it for a while, and then agreed to make the trip, if Wayne would drive. Wayne, of course, jumped at a chance to get back home even if it would only be a day there.

The following Friday Wayne took a taxi to the Millet house, on Mr. Millet’s insistence and with him paying the fare. The family car was already loaded, with Rex and Donna already in the back seat so Wayne slid out of the taxi and into the car, and headed north.

As they went north, Wayne told them about the reserve. He got to the point about explaining about how Beloved became his niece, and Donna was in tears by the end of it.

“Son,” Gordon said as they drove on with Donna sobbing into Rex’s fur, “the two of us have talked about this a lot over the past week, and we have decided to give you a scholarship to finish your education. We will pay your tuition, dorm, meals, books, and $50 a week in spending money for the rest of your course, and also for an MBA if you qualify for it.”

“Sir,” Wayne protested. “That is too much. It would be, I don’t know, probably over $100,000. I couldn’t.”

“You certainly can,” Gordon insisted. “All I am going to ask is that you come over for Sunday dinner at least once a month. Donna loves company, and the three brats we raised haven’t come to visit since Christmas. And they probably wouldn’t come to that if I didn’t give them each a gift of $1000 each. And $100 to each of their kids and grandkids. But the rest of the year, not a word.”

“But it is so much.”

“Not enough. I haven’t spoken to Donna about this, but I also want to give $250,000 to your band to build a Ginny’s Place on the reserve, in honor of your little niece’s birthmother.”

“Sir,” Wayne gasped. “Can you afford that?”

“Have you never heard of Millet Motors, boy?”

“No sir.”

“Of course you haven’t. You are not from around here, and I sold out over 20 years ago. I had the largest Ford dealer in London. Largest dealership in southwestern Ontario for most of that time. It is Riverside Ford now.”

“I have heard of that,” Wayne admitted. “Although my truck this summer was a Dodge.”

“Bite your tongue, boy,” Gordon joked. “It is good thing you are driving, or I’d kick you out of the car.”

They spent the night in a small hotel on Georgian Bay, with the Millets in one room and Rex and Wayne in the other. Gordon insisted on paying, saying it was Rex’s room and Wayne was just crashing with him.

They arrived in the reserve Saturday just after noon, after a hard morning of driving. There was a full welcoming committee at the Stormcloud house. Luv was there, and immediately Donna fell in love with the tiny baby as she held her. River was waiting, and flung herself at Wayne for a hearty hug before they broke off more sedately. Wayne whispered in her ear, asking if she thought the river could do anything for them. She suggested they try, so an hour later, while Helen Stormcloud and her daughters were preparing a feast Wayne drove them all to the river.

River coaxed the elderly couple into the water, and kept them there for nearly two hours. While they were there, Rex stood on the bank next to Wayne at first, and then leapt into the water, staying near the bank. When they came out, they each looked 10 years younger. Not much when you are 70 and 72, but the big benefit was that their health was completely improved. Gordon’s heart was made whole again, and River said that had been six or seven nascent cancers in their bodies just waiting to attack. All gone now.

“Look, even Rex looks younger now,” Wayne said. And the dog now looked 10 years younger too, putting him at four instead of 14.

Gordon insisted in driving his car back from the river, amazed at how well he felt. They got back to the house in time for the feast, which both visitors and Wayne enjoyed. During the dessert, a pie made by Liesl that was a hit with everyone, Wayne announced the Millets’ offer of the Ginny’s House grant. Silence fell, then near pandemonium as everyone started to speak at once. Gordon stood, and said.

“I have changed my mind. I will not be giving $250,000 to this fine project. I will give $400,000, and if that isn’t enough, I insist on being told so I can help more. First, your son,” he looked at Wayne, “the finest young man I have ever met, saved my life a few weeks ago, and now this beautiful young girl,” he looked at River, “has given us the gift of good health.”

“Not me,” River insisted. “Manitou, the river has gifted you. It knows good people, and it has recognized you as such. I just stood by you in the water. But your generous gift will mean much to the young people of the reserve, and hopefully of the town as well.”

The Millets spent the night in Wayne’s room, while he spent the night in the JR leader cabin, which wasn’t heated, but he had Rex and several blankets keeping him warm during the chilly night.

The next morning everyone attended River’s service, including the Millets, with Donna getting the honor of holding Luv while her mother sang. River announced to the crowd that a grant had been made to allow work to start on Ginny’s House II. The group walked over to the site that Marilyn had already picked out for the complex and tried to imagine it.

Dale took over. “With that kind of money we will be able to do more than just a house. We can afford steelwork, and that means we can build a full gymnasium, big enough for basketball and other sports. A stage, perhaps, so we can do shows, and maybe a kitchen, so we can do feasts and celebrations there when the weather keeps us indoors. There will be meeting rooms and clubrooms. Studios so that the artists in the community can share their talents with the young. Places for the Young Warriors to stow their gear. In all it will be a place focused on the youth of the people and their needs.”

River was amazed. Her father was not normally so eloquent. But she proudly applauded with all the others. She sidled up to Wayne.

“When do you have to leave?” she asked.

“Soon,” he said. “It’s a two-day drive to London, and I need to be in school at 8 on Tuesday, I wish I could stay here and celebrate Thanksgiving with you tomorrow.”

“Me too,” she said. “But school is important. And we need to keep things cool, as hard as it seems.”

“For you, not so much,” Wayne said. “For the next two years, you are underage and I could go to jail doing the things I want to do.”

“I want to do them too,” River said. “But for me the result would be worse than jail. I would lose the river. I don’t think I could live without it.”

“I have a present for you,” Wayne said.

“I like presents,” River said. Wayne placed something in her hands.

“Acorns,” she exclaimed. “You did your mission! You should have given them to me sooner. We could have planted them after services yesterday.”

“No,” Wayne said. “Manitou said they are to be planted at Winter Solstice.”

“You are right. I forgot. Oh! I can feel the life in them!”

“Yes, I could feel it too. Keep them dry and cool, outdoors if you can find a place where the squirrels won’t find them.”

“Don’t worry. I will tell the squirrels to leave them be.”

“That’s right. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Yes. And I see that you have bonded with the Millets’ dog.”

“Yes, I found I could talk to him when I was on my mission.”

“I realized that. I had to have a long talk with Night about it. I didn’t want a fight starting.”

“Night would kill him. Easily before he went into the river, but still. Is Night near? Call him.” The wolf came bounding by and Wayne kneeled down and hugged him.

“Sorry old chum. You haven’t been replaced, but the other dog has done some good things for the people, so we have to be nice to him. But he will never replace you. Ever. Are you looking after River for me?”

Night yipped playfully, and wagged his tail, then bounded off. River and Wayne walked towards the others, hand-in-hand. Donna noticed, and nudged Gordon. “They make a lovely couple, don’t they?”

Soon after the London travellers piled into Gordon’s car and headed south again, leaving the people at the reserve to celebrate Thanksgiving without them, although not without thinking of them.

On the road back Donna and Gordon had a long conversation about moving north and taking another of the houses that were being built. Their house in London would sell for more than all five of the luxury homes in the subdivision, and several of the smaller homes as well. In the end they decided to stay in London, at least as long as Wayne was in school there, to give him a base for his visits. They did, however, plan to buy a small home or cottage up north, and spend their summers there when Wayne was out of college.

And Wayne more than honored his commitment to visit each month, and spent most Sundays at the Millet house, to Rex’s great delight.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 34 – The mine

So far: Wayne headed off to college in London, Ontario. On his mission from Manitou, he meets new friends, both four-legged and two-legged ones. He gets a ride back north for Thanksgiving, and Ginny’s House II starts to become a reality.

Soon after Thanksgiving Neil Audette’s divorce was finalized in Thunder Bay, and as soon as Nick and he returned home, they started working on the mine in earnest. Neil took his samples to an assay place he knew in Sudbury, and it was not long before word got out about the new gold strike in Northern Ontario.

Within a couple of days there were strange faces in town, as prospectors were clambering over the terrain to see if more gold could be found. It was clear to those on the reservation that there would be no more gold to be found, but the outsiders didn’t know that, and they spent more than a month tramping over the countryside.

The reserve was off limits, however. Nick had secured the mineral rights to the entire reserve with the Department of Indigenous and Northern Affairs, which gave the band the right to limit exploration within its boundaries. Of course, that didn’t stop the prospectors from trying. It was the people’s partnership with the wolves that did that. Any prospector wandering (accidentally or not) onto reserve land soon had a wolf urging him on his way.

But the individual prospectors were not the problem. They provided a bit of excitement to sleepy St. Mary’s, and the money they spent in the store and the tavern were certainly welcomed. It was the men in suits that were more of a bother.

No less than three different mining companies approached the band, offering to buy the mineral rights. A session was set up to allow the various representatives to make their pitches.

The evening the meeting was held in the high school nine elders, including River, and the four members of the band council who were not elders listened to the presentations.

Northern Mining and Manufacturing went first, offering $100,000 cash, and a 25% royalty on all gold extracted. Nick was present as band legal representative, and asked the pointed questions.

“You mention royalties on gold. What are the royalties on other minerals extracted?”

“Most of the rest of the materials will be worthless slag,” the representative said. “There will be no royalties on that.”

“True, most of the material is slag, but our sources indicate that there is substantial silver in the ore, and there may be other useful minerals, like copper or nickel.”

The suit was flustered. He had not expected to face such a savvy lawyer at a remote northern reserve. “We tend to use the value of other minerals to offset costs of mining.”

“To increase your profits, in other words,” Nick offered, and the man didn’t dispute it. “What type of mining process will you use?”

“The most efficient process is to strip mine,” the man said. “The overburden is removed to the depth of the seam, and the ore is extracted. The overburden is generally stored offsite, creating a small hill that could be used for recreational purposes.”

“Sounds like a garbage mound to me,” Nick said. “Why not return the overburden to the original site?”

“That can’t be done,” the man said. “You can’t put the overburden back when the mine is still active. And to replace it later is just wasteful, moving it a second time when there is no further profit in it. You could use the hill for skiing, cross-country, and hiking in season. It could be a great asset to the community.”

“I see. And the gold seam appears to run under the river. How would that be removed?”

“That is not difficult,” the man in the grey suit said. “It is just a matter of relocating the river.” River gasped when she heard that. “We just divert the water course, probably a few miles up, and provide it with a new outlet to the lake. The land where the mine is will eventually fill up and provide a beautiful lake.”

“What will that do to the harbor in town?” Nick asked.

“It should cause no problems,” the man said. “There might be a need for some water flow, but water could be piped in. In most such cases the river mouth just becomes a bay, and functions well as a marina. Silting might require dredging every few years, but that is a cost that is readily covered by your royalties.”

“It is our understanding that there are $150 million in gold in the vein, according to prices from last week. When would we get our share of the money?” All the men from the three groups got wide-eyed at that estimate. If true, then the mine was three or four times the size they had been expecting.

“We would have to do a lot of testing to determine the full value of the mine, of course,” the man said. “Your band would get your money at the end of every year. If the mine is of that size it will take 10 or 15 years to clean it all out.”

“Finally, we wish to know what proportion of the work will be done by natives, and what proportion will be done by outside workers.”

The man hesitated. “We will use local people whenever possible. Most of the jobs are for skilled mining positions that will have to be filled by experienced miners. There might be 10 or 15 positions your people could fill, things like drivers of the smaller trucks. That is out of the workforce of 250 that would be at the mine.”

Copper Cliff Resources was the next to speak, and it seemed they were going a bit on the fly. They promised $250,000 up front, as an advance on royalties, and 30% royalties.

“Does your company expect to use the same mining techniques as Northern?” Wayne asked.

Blue suit answered. “Yes, to a large extent. I think I detected a major concern over the environmental impact, so I’m glad that we put together this presentation of some of the rehabilitation efforts our company has accomplished in other places.” He showed a 10-minute slide show.

“Very pretty,” Nick said. “But I expect that those areas were also very pretty before the holes were dug and mountains raised.”

“Of course raw nature is always better,” the man admitted. “But we bring things back to as close as possible to what we started with, with the benefit of having removed the economic assets from the land.”

“Thank you. And now for the final outside bidder, Canadian Shield Mining,” Nick said.

The third set of suits said little more than the first, although this was a smaller company and didn’t offer any payment up front. But they offered 40% commission. Their presentation was less glitzy than the others, and Neil had said this would be the best of the three for the project. However, Nick had a surprise for the suits.

“As I mentioned, there are three outside bidders on this project,” he said. “However, we also have an internal bidder. You know that Ojibwe Mining Company was founded several weeks ago. This was not to be merely a shell company set up to receive royalty payments from outside companies, but as an operating company. I would like to have its representative speak. Miss River Waters.”

River stood confidently. She was quite outraged at what she had heard, and could sense that most of the elders were as well. Moving the river, stripping land away and throwing it on a pile that they would call a hill or mountain, creating a great scar on the earth that they would call a lake when it filled with stagnant water.

“Gentlemen,” she said to the band members, ignoring the visitors. “Our company is very new, but we do have over 25 years of mining experience within our principals, and we hope that we can provide the community with an asset that gives back to the community, rather than tearing it apart in the quest for dollars.

“We are aiming to build a small tunneled mine, with a small workforce going underground to extract only the gold-bearing ore, with as little of what has been called slag as possible. We will use a small workforce, who we will train in mining techniques, entirely from the people of the band. Our goal is to extract about $3 million a year from the mine.”

At that point, the man from Northern Mining burst out laughing. River stopped, and turned to him.

“I’m sorry, but this is a joke, right?” he chuckled. “I mean you bring in a little high school girl, and feed us this tripe. Tunnel mining went out in the 19th century. In case no one has told you, it is the 21st century now. And $3-million a year? No one does it like that. It will take forever to complete the project and move on.”

“Sir,” River said calmly, “I didn’t interrupt your presentation, even though I dearly wanted to when you casually decided that our river was unimportant and could be moved and replaced. I hope you will give me the chance to make our presentation.”

“You mean it is not a joke? You are serious?” the man said.

“It is not a joke. You people see this project simply as a means of making a quick buck. Get in, get the gold, and then get out. We look at it differently. The Ojibwe view is that the earth is something we share, not something for us to abuse. We wish to use this project as a long-term way to provide jobs for our people, and resources for improving their lives. I’m not sure that piling up rubble and calling it a mountain would improve anyone’s life, except for your shareholders, perhaps.”

“We know our methods are dated. But many of our people still hunt with a bow and arrow: a technology 2000 years old. We know that it is easier with a rifle, but there is a peacefulness in going into the woods, using your skills to approach the animals silently for a chance of success. Sure, you can shoot a high-powered rifle from two miles away and bring down an animal, but where is the pride in that?”

“Our goal is to start a small company. We will use four underground workers at first, until they are trained, and then form a second shift. Eventually we will have four 40-hour shifts a week, with an eight-hour maintenance period. There will be another three men per shift taking the ore to the smelter.”

“A smelter too? This is too much?” the man from Northern laughed. River stared at him until he apologized for his outburst and then continued.

“Yes, we will have a small smelter to extract the gold and the silver from the ore. We know our operation will be less efficient than sending the ore to a central refining company, but we expect to extract 98% of the metals. It will also provide another 12 local jobs, operating on a single shift. So in total there will be 40 workers, and an office with one or two other jobs. The big difference is that these are jobs that we can expect to last at least 50 years. Jobs with a future.”

River sat down, and the band members grouped together to discuss the bids. River had the right to join in, but didn’t as a sign of respect for the other bidders. After only five minutes of discussion, they returned and Nick stood.

“Gentlemen, I wish to thank you for coming to this meeting today. Our band elders and officials have voted unanimously to select Ojibwe Mining for this project. Thank you again.”

“This is preposterous,” the man from Copper Cliff shouted.

“What do you expect?” the man from Northern replied. “They are a bunch of primitive Indians. Throwing their money away, and then claiming they need more and more from our taxes.”

“I wouldn’t talk about taxes,” Nick retorted. “It is my understanding that your company hasn’t paid any in the past 15 years, taking tax credits that completely offset your fair share, in spite of your huge profits.”

“This isn’t over, my friend,” the Northern rep said. “You have control of the reservation, and a small claim to the north, but I know mining, and gold in one area will occur elsewhere nearby. We will find it, and we will mine it.”

The meeting then broke up, with the visitors grumbling as they went to their fancy cars, laughing at all the old and broken down pickup trucks that the elders drove. They even mocked the newer truck that they had seen Nick had arrive in. “Can’t be much of a lawyer if that’s all he can afford,” the man from Copper Cliff said as he left. Nick didn’t hear the comment: he and the rest of the elders were inside congratulating River on the job she had done.

The next morning River got a chance to visit Marilyn, partially to thank Nick for his help at the meeting the day before, but mainly to get a chance to see the baby. Still only a month old, she was developing at a rapid rate with the love she was getting from her parents, all her grandparents, and all the other people of the reserve who had fallen in love with the tiny baby, still small for a newborn. Some were lucky enough to earn a smile from the infant.

Carla and Liesl were visiting before heading to their respective busses, and River heard them gossiping about some “cool guy” that Liesl had met at school. From the way she gushed about him, River thought he must be a TV or movie star. Finally she asked who it was.

Liesl turned red, not realizing that River had been listening. “Uhm, it’s Mark,” she finally stammered. “Sorry, but your brother is just the coolest boy in middle school. All the girls think so, not just me.”

Mark, a heartthrob? River had trouble believing it. Liesl explained. “He is not just big and strong, he is the nicest boy in the whole school. He stopped all the bullying, and before class and during recess he often stands near the grade five girls, and makes sure no one teases or bullies us. He always helps other students understand the work, so he is super smart. He even wrote the story that our class is reading.”

“I know that story,” River admitted. “It is really good.”

“It is great,” Liesl said. “Most stories they give us to read are about kids in the city, and it is hard to relate to them. But Mark’s story is about right here, even though it was many years ago. Mrs. Cutler said she can even use it for our history class.”

“So Mark can pretty much have any girl in the fifth grade,” River noted.

“The whole school,” Liesl said. “Even the grade eights like him. Jocelyn McKellar kissed him yesterday.”

“What?” River exclaimed.

“She has been after him for weeks,” Liesl said. “She is really pretty. Her boobs are nearly as big as yours, River, and she has a really nice figure, and long brown hair. Super cute, and one of the most popular girls in the school. Anyway, she has flirted with Mark for weeks, but he never reacts, and I think that bothers her. She pretty much can have any boy in the eighth grade she wants, just by a wink. But not Mark.”

“Tell me about this kiss,” River said.

“It was at the end of lunch,” Liesl explained. “Mark was watching the kids leave the cafeteria, so no one bullied anyone else. Jocelyn just walked up to him and planted a big kiss on him, right on the lips.”

“How did he react?”

“He shouted yuck, and wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve. Jocelyn nearly started to cry. I bet she never had someone act like that when she kissed them before.”

“Well, he is only 10, no 11 now. I guess that is a bit young for kissing girls,” River suggested.

“Yeah. If he does though, I hope it will be with me,” Liesl admitted shyly.

“Well good luck with that,” River said. “I just hope he does it with someone his own age when he is ready. You have to remember that boys develop slower than girls, so we have to wait for them to catch up on things. Just because Mark looks older, and acts older with a more mature attitude, he is still a kid your age inside. Wait for him, and maybe you will be the lucky one. I do know that he likes you as a friend.”

“He likes me?” Liesl said.

“As a friend,” River repeated. “Just don’t go pushing him into something he isn’t ready for. That would be the quickest way to lose him, like that Grade 8 girl did.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Liesl said. “Thanks for talking to me River. Oh look, now I have to rush to the bus. Give Luv another hug for me, Carla.”

“Quite the little Peyton Place, around here, isn’t it,” Marilyn said with a chuckle as she helped Carla change the baby.

“Yes, I think I will talk to Mark about it tomorrow at the river.”

Mark and River now both spent their early mornings in the river. Mark no longer needed a flashlight to see in the dark, and was starting to learn the animals and trees the way River had when she first started visiting the river.

After they finished their homework, Mark dictated another story for River to type. His original story was still being used in class, but his fans (all the rest of the class) begged him for more, so he was now on his third short story. Mrs. Cutler would print several copies out and the students shared them back and forth. Even Grade 6 and 7 students could be seen reading them.

“Mark,” River said. “I understand you had a run-in with Jocelyn McKellar the other day.”

The big lad looked at her. “How did you hear about that? The river?”

“No, I have other sources,” River said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No!” Mark said abruptly.

“Okay, but if you ever do …”

“She stuck her tongue in my mouth,” he said. “It was gross.”

“Ah, that wasn’t part of what I had heard,” River said. “It surprised you, I guess.”

“Well, wouldn’t it surprise you if someone stuck their tongue in your mouth?”

“If I wasn’t expecting it, or if it wasn’t someone who I wanted to do that, then it would.”

“Why would you want anyone to do that?” Mark said.

“Well, if it is someone special, someone you really love, then that can be a way of expressing that love. Has Dad explained things to you: about girls and boys and making babies.”

“Yes, and that is gross too. I mean … oh, yuck.”

“You are still young Mark, and he probably wanted you to know all about that once you grew bigger. You look older now, and people think you are older.”

“I know, but sometimes I am just a little kid inside,” Mark said.

“Yes, and it makes it hard. You know, Jocelyn would have felt terrible the way you reacted to her.”

“What? She was the one who started it. I didn’t want to kiss her. Or anyone. And certainly like that. Have you ever kissed anyone like that?”

“No I haven’t,” River said. “Wayne … well, I would for him, but he has never tried it. He knows I am too young for him now, and the river: it doesn’t want us to, so we don’t. But I know Mom and Dad kiss that way. That’s where the slang expression “suck face” comes from, you know.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. You know, I feel a lot better after talking to you about this River. Do you really think Jocelyn would be upset?”

“Big time,” River said. “I mean I understand she is one of the prettiest and most popular girls in Grade 8. Then she sees a boy she is interested in, and she finally gets her nerve up to kiss him, and he reacts like it was horrible. That would be so damaging to her ego.”

“What do I say to her? I didn’t mean to upset her.”

“Talk to her, alone if you can. Tell her it wasn’t that you were disgusted, just that you were surprised. Remind her that you are only Grade 5, and are not ready for things like that. She should be going out with boys her own age, not younger ones.”

“Thanks River, I will do that.”

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 35 – Grand Openings

So far: Word about the gold rush is on, and big companies wanting a piece of the action were surprised and upset when they couldn’t convince the band to give up a share, in return for ruining the environment and rerouting the river. And Mark was taught an interesting lesson.

The months of September and October brought changes to St. Mary’s. In the last week of September, the Ojibwe Co-operative had its grand opening. The store had been open for weeks – they had even made the odd sale from the store while it was still being stocked, and online sales had started as soon as the web pages were up, and still comprised 70 percent of the store sales.

The biggest day for the retail store was in early September, when Connie was surprised to find one woman buying over $15,000 worth of goods. She was setting up a new home in the town, and needed to decorate it, and fell in love with the idea of using a First Nations theme. She bought several of the paintings by Carl Bluelake as well as five prints of April Audette’s photography. She said that she was getting in two First Nations boarders, and bought dreamcatchers for each of their rooms, as well as for her and her daughter.

She bought a large number of native blankets, both for the beds in the house, and as decorations in the living room. A large painted ceremonial drum was going to be the focal point of that room. It was only later that Connie learned that the woman was Dawn Winter, who River had cured of cancer and invited to move into the community. The one thing that Connie noted was that she didn’t haggle over money like most purchasers did. They all wanted 25 percent off on a $50 dreamcatcher, but Dawn was happy to pay full list price on everything. Connie had to convince her that the 10 percent discount she was given on her huge purchase was appropriate.

This set Connie’s goals for the grand opening. She wanted to reach that $15,000 level on each of the three days of the sale, which was going to run for three days, from Friday to Sunday.

She planned on some of the traditional retail gimmicks for the sale. There would be balloons all over the place, both in the store and to give out to kids. Most goods were sale priced with a 20 to 30 percent discount, depending on what the craftspeople felt like offering. Advertising opportunities were limited in the north, but ads ran on Thunder Bay radio, as well as a full-page ad in the little weekly newspaper in Terrace Bay. There was a single page flyer printed out in the Terrace Bay print shop, and mailed to every home in St. Mary’s. At River’s insistence, it was bilingual, with English on one side, and Ojibwe on the other.

River also came up with ideas of her own. The sweet corn season was still on in northern Ontario, so she arranged to buy several pickup truckloads of corn from farmers in the area. A massive pot of boiling water was prepared, and another smaller pot of melted butter was used for dipping the corn in. Every visitor to the sale got free corn, with a bonus. River had gotten many of the reserve teens making souvenir corn holders out of leather with traditional Ojibwe designs branded into one side, and the store website on the other. These were small tabs of leather that had a small wire (surplus from Kyle and George’s collection) poked into it. A pair of these would be poked into either end of a corn cob, making eating the sweet sensations easier than without.

The high school spirit squad was in charge of the corn roast, with the store paying them a large donation in return for the work they did. The 10 girls each brought in one friend, and between the 20 they were able to cover all 30 hours of the sale. Carla was the main contact between the spirit squad and the store, and as a result her status within the group shot up. No grade nine member had ever brought in such a large donation, nor run such a large project. Even the girl who questioned “letting an Indian join” was won over, and over the rest of the year she became a close friend of Carla and Liesl. Of course, Luv was part of the attraction for the girl, who loved being able to see the baby.

River also came up with the idea of having a full pow-wow during the grand opening. On Saturday there was a local pow-wow, with singers and dancers from the reserve, including the other reserves that had sent students to the high school. On Sunday there was a huge regional pow-wow, with cash prizes enticing performers from three or four hours away. It was the largest pow-wow in northern Ontario that year, since there was a lot of buzz about the things happening with the river, causing many First Nations peoples to want to see what was going on.

There were so many in the area on the Sunday that River’s ceremony that morning had to be held twice, and the early one, which most of the locals attended, was so large that for the first time people had to take the bridge to the other side, and stand on both sides of the river to be able to participate. As well, after the pow-wow ended, River had another ceremony in the river where the people were able to learn the language and history of the people.

There was a twist this time. Many of the visitors were Cree, Odawa, Potawatomi or other peoples, and when River sang the songs, these people heard their local history, and learned their own language.

At the end of the three days, Connie totaled the sales figures, and came up with $15,500 on Friday, $21,500 on Saturday, and $15,800 on Sunday, which had shorter hours than Saturday, but higher sales per hour with all the pow-wow visitors. The store didn’t make much money on the event, but it broke even and got the store known. Dozens of new craftspeople wanted to participate, and Connie had to promise that Colin would post a form on the website to let people know how to do it. She just didn’t have the time to sign up people on the spot.

Two weeks later there was another grand opening. On October 6 the second deer hunting season started, and Dale’s men finished the first house before taking their six days off. There was some stonework still to be done on the fireplace, but Chip and his crew agreed to work through the hunting season and finished it on the Wednesday at noon.

On Thursday there was a party in the house. Not a planned one. But almost every family on the reserve came to an impromptu housewarming. Each brought a dish for a potluck supper for the family, and almost all had a gift for River, Alison, or Mark (usually camping or hunting gear for him). People wanted to see the beautiful new house that they had watched under construction, and used the idea of a party as a way in. Most stayed for a half hour or so, giving their gift, eating a bit, and then heading off to make room for others. A few stayed throughout, but generally these people were ones who looked after the food or cleaning up, or providing music.

River was thrilled that the event stayed alcohol-free. She was happy that people were learning that they could have a good time without drinking. A traditional punch that the river had provided (well, it provided the icy water, as well as the recipe for flavoring with other local ingredients) was served, and most loved it. Promises to spread the recipe had to be made to many.

River had many of her friends from school there, and they all marveled at the house. The living room was impressive. It had a cathedral ceiling with massive pine timbers holding up the sharply pitched roof. One entire wall was a beautiful fireplace, comprised of the finest Canadian Shield stonework, soaring up to a seven-foot wide chimney at the top.

Behind were the modern, stainless steel kitchen and a formal dining room that could easily sit 12. A den was at the back, and a huge deck that looked out over the woods behind, and the river, visible through breaks in the trees. River and her friends stood on the deck, and Carla pointed: “Look, even the animals have come to your party.” It was true. There were five or six deer at the edge of the woods, looking at the girls looking at them.

“Smart deer,” River said. “The hunt is on, and they have found a safe place to hide from the hunters. No one would be foolish enough to fire a rifle so close to people.”

The upstairs to the house had four bedrooms. There was an en-suite in the master bedroom, which had a balcony that overlooked the great room. River’s and the guest bedrooms also overlooked the great room. River had a walk-in closet, not as large as her mother’s, but plenty large for someone who had lived in a tent for two months.

Mark also had a bedroom on the second floor, and in the back, next to the second bathroom, but he had staked claim to the basement, and convinced his father to build him a bedroom and three-piece bath down there. The recreation room that would be built later was also in the basement. Even so there was a ping-pong table in the unfinished room already.

“You totally need to get a Rube Goldberg machine down here,” Liesl gushed, seeing the great open space. “That would be so cool.”

“Yeah, and then I’d have every kid on the reserve wanting to come in to play it,” River laughed.

“Totally,” Liesl said, not seeing any problems with that idea.

The next opening was another two weeks later when the ATM arrived for the credit union. It was installed in its corner of the store, along with the two teller stations. Only one teller had been hired for the place, and she had started two weeks earlier, with Alison teaching her. The second station would allow Alison to help out if the branch got busy. Most of the activity at the branch would occur at the ATM, taking deposits and dispensing cash. But during the opening week the two women had a steady line of people wanting to make deposits and open accounts.

The safe had been delivered and installed a week earlier. It was in the enclosed area behind the ATM and provided security for the cash held at the branch. There were also 50 storage boxes, and people wanting to keep their valuables secure, but closer to home, quickly snapped these up.

It took almost five minutes to open a new account, and Alison and Gayle averaged 20 per hour. The credit union hours would be 9 to 4, with the staff working an hour later to balance accounts, but during opening week they were open from 9 to 9. The idea was that each woman would get an hour break during the day, but that didn’t happen. Five or 10 minutes to wolf down a sandwich was all either took.

There were lines all five days, and Alison even tried to limit it, by announcing that children’s accounts would not be accepted until the next week. But teens and adults opened over 1000 accounts, with almost everyone in town spending their $25 to become a member. Most people deposited several hundred dollars, and Alison had forms printed out to allow welfare checks to be direct-deposited.

There were a few bigger deposits, put into investment funds managed by the credit union. The band deposited $5 million in a term account, and Nick and Dale both deposited the proceeds of their million-dollar house transactions from Toronto. The one that surprised Alison most was the $25 million that Dawn Winter deposited. What was surprising was that she said she would consider moving the rest of her money at a later date. Apparently her book series was quite lucrative.

A few weeks later there was another housewarming. This time it was Nick and Marilyn’s house. This was as big as the Waters’ house, but different in many respects. It also had the great room with the beamed ceiling, but in their case the fireplace was smaller, although still impressive. Marilyn had chosen black appliances for her kitchen, and there was also a playroom for Luv on the ground floor. Upstairs had a master suite similar to the other house, but five smaller bedrooms. Marilyn was determined to have as large a family as possible.

This time the housewarming was smaller. Many people had already seen one of the new houses, and didn’t feel the need to see another. It was mainly friends and families of the homeowners who came, which were still over 100 people. River was happy that another event went alcohol free. Nelson Churchill might complain, but she didn’t. In fact, Connie said Nelson had his best month ever during the grand opening of the co-op. Not selling beer, but selling fine cigars to the many visitors.

Earlier in October River had been in the store, where some of the other girls from the high school were in looking over the clothes. They bemoaned the lack of selection to Darrin Hooper, the friendly shop owner.

“Sorry girls,” he said. “But there is a limited market in a small town like this and I just can’t afford to get in trendy clothes like the shops in the city malls do. My dealers carry them, but I’d have to get in a variety of sizes, and then it is possible that the girl who likes one style won’t be the right size.”

“Do your suppliers have catalogs?” River asked.

“Oh I get them constantly,” Darrin said. “I have a pile of them right over here.” He tossed a pile of catalogs on the counter, and the other girls jumped at them, aahing and oohing over the clothes shown. River didn’t join in. She was happy with her traditional native clothes, but she was starting to get an idea.

“Mr. Hooper, do you need these catalogs?”

“Not really, why?”

“I was just thinking. What if we took those to school, and showed them around to all the girls in the school. There are almost 100 girls. Each girl will pick out three outfits, and then we will bring back the catalogs and you can get prices for what each outfit would cost. Each girl will pick one of their three, and put down a 10 percent deposit on it. We could have a fashion show at school, with everyone showing off their outfit. If the girl likes it, she buys it. The girls boarding all get a clothing allowance of $150 for the year, and most don’t get a chance to go to the city to spend it.”

“It sounds interesting,” Mr. Hooper said. “What if the student doesn’t like it?”

“Well, I guess you would have some stock for your racks here then, but I suspect most would buy. I mean, they picked the style, it is in their size, and most kids have a budget for buying clothes, and no place to get them around here. The store in Terrace Bay is no better than here.”

“Oh, River, that is a great idea,” one of the girls squealed. “I would love to be in a fashion show. Plus getting some cool outfits.” The other girls all agreed.

“Well, I think we have a plan,” Mr. Hooper said. “Here are some more catalogs, including a couple of shoe ones I never order from. All the prices in the catalog are suggested retail prices, and for this event I can offer 40% off, which lowers them to a sale price level. Take the books to school and let me know in a week or two what you want. I will have to order soon to get them in for, say, mid-November.”

“Great. Let’s plan the fashion show for November 17. We can charge $5 each for people to come and watch, with the money going to the Student Council.”

“We have to pay $5 to be in the show?” one of the girls asked.

“No,” River answered. “You get in free if you are in the show. But if you aren’t wearing an outfit, then you have to pay.”

The excitement at the school was just as high when the girls explained the plan the next day. By the end of the week girls were coming in to the store to put down their deposits. Most ordered one full outfit, with a few deciding to buy all three of their choices, and decide later which to wear in the show. In the end the store ordered 107 outfits at an average cost of $120. As well 22 pairs of shoes were ordered, at about $75 each. Mr. Hooper grossed almost $15,000 during the month, the most he had ever done in fashion by a 10:1 ratio.

The carpentry class in the high school built a runway for the models to walk down, and over 500 people attended the show, bringing in another $2500 for the student council. The spirit squad had a bake sale and sold lemonade during the event, and they also raised an additional $1000 for their group, although it took some coordination, since the girls on the squad were also in the show.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 36 – The War

So far: grand openings abound, with the Ojibwe Co-op and the Waters house getting most of the attention. Nick’s and Marilyn’s house, and the credit union also opened. Finally, River gets another idea, and the First Annual St. Mary’s High School Fashion Show is the result.

In early November Mark and River were waiting for the sun to come up on a Friday morning when they heard a chorus of wolf howls from a few miles down the river. They got out of the water, and hurried off to see what was happening.

Quickly they came across a sight that amazed them. There were two pickup trucks, a van, and a half-ton truck. A dozen men were standing in a huddle around some sort of drilling apparatus that had been set up, and a huge searchlight had the area looking as bright as midday. There were a dozen of the local wolves around the men, including several between the men and the trucks, where full gun racks could be seen in the windows of the pickups.

“What’s going on here?” River called out when she gathered in the scene.

“Help us,” one of the men called. “The wolves are threatening us. We can’t get back to our trucks.”

“What are you doing here? Do you have permission to drill here?”

“Of course we do, that’s why we are doing it at three in the morning,” the man replied sarcastically. “Your people wouldn’t let us on the land for test holes. A couple tests will let us know which way the vein runs, and give us an idea where to drill off the reserve.”

“The vein starts just the other side of the river, and runs along here for about 1.5 miles in that direction, ending up in the small patch of non-reserve land that our company has staked a claim to. If you had asked, we would have saved you a great deal of trouble.”

“Can you just call off your dogs,” the man shouted. “We’ll pack up and get out of here.”

“They are wolves, and not dogs. You have just insulted them greatly, and I really don’t think you want to make them any more upset with you. You are on their land without permission. I have no control over what they do. They do know that I don’t like the sight of blood or violence, and that may be why they haven’t started tearing you to pieces.”

“Can you get to the truck, and bring us a gun or two, then?” the man said. He and his men were getting more and more anxious about their predicament.

“A gun? The wolves are my friends. You think I am going to give you guns to shoot at them? You might hurt one or two before they rip you to pieces. No sir. I think that the best thing for you fellows to do would be to start moving, slowly, in that direction. And don’t stop until you get to the highway four miles off. That is the edge of the reserve.”

Most of the men started moving immediately in the direction that River had suggested, but the leader took one more try.

“But what about our equipment? There is a lot of expensive stuff here.”

“I think that equipment is owned by the reserve now,” River said. “We thank you for your kind donation.”

The foreman paused again, until two wolves started moving closer. He then quickly headed off after his men. The wolves continued to surround the men on three sides to keep them moving towards the highway. Without their floodlights the men were nearly blind in the bush, and stumbled slowly taking nearly three hours to get to the road, getting there as the sun rose.

Back at the drill site, River told Mark to help her turn off the massive floodlights and any other equipment that was still running before they returned for another hour or so in the river.

Nick was furious when he heard of the incursion later that morning. He immediately called Constable Terry Sloot at the OPP detachment in Terrace Bay. Const. Sloot was probably the officer in the detachment that had the most experience at the reserve, and he seemed willing to treat the natives fairly. He told Nick that he had just had a call from Northern Mining and Manufacturing that $500,000 worth of their equipment had been “stolen” from their yard, and that a dozen of their workers had been “attacked” by wolves just outside of the reserve. The company managers were insisting that a team of Ministry of Natural Resources rangers be formed to hunt down and eliminate the wolves.

“It all makes sense now that we have heard your side of it,” Const. Sloot said. “I couldn’t understand how equipment could be stolen from a yard in Sault Ste. Marie when the men were out at the reserve. I’ll head out and see you within an hour. You will return the equipment, I assume.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nick said. “It is a grey area of the law, and it may well be that we will put a claim on the equipment, since it was left on our property as the result of a trespass. We might not win the case, but the equipment will be tied up for a few years as it works through the court system.”

The constable was out less than an hour later, and as he investigated the site, while munching on a few of Liesl’s biscuits and some of Marilyn’s coffee, he came to the conclusion that the “stolen” equipment was found, but that it was being used illegally on reserve land.

During the day Nick and lawyers from Northern argued over the phone. Apparently the equipment was pretty crucial to the operations of the company in the area. There were other rigs in other locations, but none nearby and none that was not in use. The company really wanted its equipment back, and knew that Nick could hold the equipment for months, or years, while legal challenges were underway. After two years, two-thirds of the value of the equipment would be depreciated away.

The last call that evening came after school was out, and River was there to hear it. Nick had put his phone on speaker, so she could hear the increasingly angry shouting from the other end of the line. In the background they could even hear angry threats being made.

“Something is going to happen, and I think it will happen tonight,” River said.

“So soon? Will there be violence?” Marilyn wondered as she held her precious Luv close.

“There might be, but you will be a long way away from it,” Nick said. He turned to River and sternly told her. “You too. I don’t want you anywhere near that site. If nothing has happened before you go to the river tomorrow morning, I want you here.” He gestured at the river outside their house. “Not down at your normal spot at the meeting place.”

“Like that is going to happen,” River replied with as little sass in her voice as possible. “That is my river, and I intend to be close at hand when anything happens to it, or near it.”

Nick started three times to come up with an argument that would keep the girl away, and each time had to stop, knowing that nothing would keep her away. “All right, but keep your distance. And I want all the hunters from the band there. Some with guns, but more hidden in the bushes and trees with arrows.”

“No guns at all,” River insisted. “This could become a war, and I don’t want blood flowing into my river.”

Nick thought it over. “Agreed. Now I have to call Const. Sloot and let him know what we think will go down. He will be glad we are not carrying guns.”

“I better go over and get Liesl to whip up another batch of biscuits,” Marilyn said. “He really liked those.”

Const. Sloot arrived just prior to midnight. His sergeant had not thought the threat was credible, and preferred to leave it. He did allow his officer to go to the scene and call for reinforcements if necessary.

Nick had several young boys at the entrance to the park and reserve, equipped with walkie-talkies, since there was no cell service deep in the reserve. They called in a half hour after midnight to report that three dilapidated old school busses full of men had sped through the gates.

Only two busses arrived at the drilling site, and all the men who poured out were carrying a rifle, ranging from simple hunting .22s to more powerful rifles. Unlike the United States, gun control in Canada meant that only hunting rifles were present, and no assault weapons. Half the men formed a circle around the drill site, facing outwards, while others immediately started working on the equipment, breaking it down to pack back on the trucks.

River had been standing next to Const. Sloot and as he got on his police radio to call the situation in to his station, she stepped forward. “Stop now,” she ordered. “You have no legal right to take this equipment. You are all trespassing.”

“What?” the foreman shouted with a sneer as he pointed his .22 at River. “Are you going to send your wolves after us? This time we have guns. Or are those men with bows and arrows supposed to scare us? A bullet flies a lot faster than an arrow, and does a lot more damage, too.”

“Stop this now,” Const. Sloot ordered in his police officer command voice. But a shot rang out suddenly, followed by another, and then there was a cluster of twangs as arrows were shot out in all directions.

Const. Sloot fell to the ground, and River was horrified to see a red rose appear on his forehead. He had stepped forward as the foreman shot at her, and had taken the bullet. In panic she looked around, seeing her brother beside her. “Mark,” she screamed, “take him to the river.” The huge boy picked up the 200-pound officer as if he were a rag doll, and started running full speed into the river, not stopping at the bank, but leaping as far as possible into the river.

River was close behind, and as soon as they were in the river she told Mark to go see if he could help others. She turned her attention to the officer, who was still alive.

“Can you save him?” she pleaded with the river.

After a few moments she finally heard the river say it could, but it noted that the injury was a grievous one.

As River held the constable underwater, she started seeing images. There was a young constable in full dress uniform, marrying a pretty woman. Then a picture of that woman, but now fully pregnant. Then a baby, who turned into a young girl laughing as her father swung her around in a suburban backyard. Then another girl a few years younger.

What are these images? River asked the river.

Those are his memories. I cannot save them, the river said.

What? What will be left?

The bullet went into his brain, the river said. He will lose much of his memories of the past.

No! River screamed. It is not worth saving him if he loses all that. His memories, his wife and children. Can’t you do more?

I will try, the river said. You are the most difficult rivertalker I have ever had.

Minutes later River started seeing the images that had flitted away in the river current fighting their way back upstream, and reuniting with the officer’s body. She hoped that this meant the river was successful.

Uh, River said hesitantly. I don’t want to be a pain, although I know I am, but is it possible that you not completely cure him? If he comes out of the river without a scratch, then those men will get away with it. Can he have the bullet and bullet hole still in him? Just no serious damage. The doctors can extract the bullet.

Yes, the river sighed. I can do that. I assume you will want the same for the native who was shot?

Someone else was shot? Who? a panicked River said. Is he okay?

Red Bear was shot in the arm, the river said. He is going to be fine. Your brother is helping me heal him. But now I have to put a bullet back into his arm.

When the river announced he was ready, River stood up, and floated the officer to the bank. Mark was there, and picked him up and laid him on the bank as a cordon of officers approached. There had been five other officers sent out from Terrace Bay on Officer Sloot's call, and when Nick had phoned in that an officer had been shot, officers had been sent in from Thunder Bay and there were now 20 more, with others on the way. A Ornge air ambulance was waiting and Officer Sloot was quickly strapped in, with Red Bear beside him for the flight to Thunder Bay.

The rest of the day was a blur. The police interviewing River were rather unkind in trying to find out what had happened to their wounded partner who had completely disappeared for three hours. River told them she felt that the cold water of the river might have stabilized him, but she had not realized it had taken that long. She learned what had happened when she fled with the officer. After the men started shooting, others raised their rifles. But the marksmanship of the people was amazing, and every gunman was stuck with an arrow within a second, so that only the shot at Red Bear was taken. Many men had their hands or arms welded to a gunstock by an arrow, and other men had arm wounds causing them to drop their weapons. Not one of the intruders was seriously hurt, although almost all of them were wounded in some way. Most were taken by convey to the St. Mary’s hospital, and then brought back for questioning.

The mystery of the missing third bus was also cleared up. The company had deliberately chosen older busses to minimize expenses, and one had lost its transmission when it hit a pothole that all the reserve drivers knew to avoid. The men on that bus tried to carry on by foot, but wolf howls around the bus kept them firmly inside. When the two shots were fired, they talked about heading out as reinforcements, but when no more shots were heard, they decided to hunker down.

The officers on the ground quickly determined the shooters. The foreman was one, and he was charged with attempted murder. He had intended to shoot River, but the officer had stepped in front of her at the last minute. He saw the bullet enter the officer’s forehead, and was sure it was a fatal shot. He knew that he would pay heavily for killing a police officer, and decided to take others with him. He started talking freely about how the plan had been set up by his bosses in an effort to rescue the equipment. They hadn’t planned on violence, but the fact that every man had some type of gun pretty much killed that defense.

It was mid-afternoon when word came through that Const. Sloot had miraculously survived his operation. From that point on, the officers took on a friendlier disposition. It was not harmed when the women of the reserve set up a refreshment table, serving hot soup, biscuits, venison stew, and coffee for all the officers investigating, and the men still being held after being released from the hospital.

In the end every man who had been in the invasion force was charged with trespass, weapons offences, and conspiracy. The men who had fired were also charged with attempted murder, and the suits back at the company offices were charged with conspiracy. There was no evidence that the top managers of the company in Toronto were involved, but they also faced serious questioning.

All the natives who had fired arrows were charged with assault, but Nick correctly predicted that all those charges would be dismissed on the first hearing. It irked the investigating officers to no end not to be able to charge River with anything, but they eventually let her go. However at services the next day there were four detectives in the crowd watching, and completely frustrated when the entire service was conducted in the Ojibwe language.

There were others at the service. The media had swarmed the place, with the first reporters appearing on Saturday morning, and the television remote vehicles coming in later that day. They started pulling out on Sunday afternoon, as the 24-hour news cycle moved to another day.

Six weeks later Nick reported that he had reached an agreement with the officials of Northern in Toronto. Neil Audette had gone over the equipment and pointed out the bits that would be useful to Ojibwe Mining. He had no use for the big drilling rig, nor the searchlights, so Neil agreed to return those to the company, who released everything else to the band.

At the following band meeting it was decided that Red Bear, the only native injured in the battle, would get his pick of the trucks to compensate him for his pain and suffering, even though when he returned from the hospital in Thunder Bay River had taken him for a complete healing, and he no longer even had a scar. He did have the bullet extracted in Thunder Bay as a souvenir. He chose the half-ton truck, and announced that he was forming a delivery service making runs from Thunder Bay to Sault Ste. Marie, and on to Sudbury by special request. That business thrived, and five years later he had three trucks on the road, each driven by a band member.

Terry Sloot was unconscious for a day, and recollected vivid dreams of his life during that time. When he came to, his wife and daughters, 13 and 11, were thrilled when he recognized them without hesitation. The doctors and nurses had explained that brain damage was to be expected from an injury of this type, and had prepared the three for the worst. The doctors were baffled by the injury. There was an entry wound, and the bullet had torn through several inches of brain tissue, which should have been devastating. But there seemed to be little damage on the entry wound. The operation to remove the bullet had done more damage, with a large hole in the skull to remove the bullet, while only a small bandage was needed for his forehead.

The man who shot the gun spent 10 years in jail getting early release on his 25-year sentence. The man who shot RedBear only got 15, but also served 10 since he was not as model a prisoner and was turned down at several parole hearings.

The gold fever in town ended with the war. Northern wanted nothing more to do with the town, and River and Neil took the officials of Copper Cliff and Canadian Shield onto the site and pointed out where the gold was, and that it would be inaccessible to them.

Canadian Shield left the area immediately, and Copper Cliff did two test drillings off of reserve land, coming up dry each time. They too soon left. All but one or two of the independent prospectors also moved on the more promising territories, but one or two stayed on in the town. They claimed to be prospecting, but also ran trap lines, and made enough money to live on through the sale of furs.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Sorry this has been so late. I got sick last weekend, and then sidetracked over other things. See my blog post for more: Dawn

Chapter 37 – Celebrations

So far: Miners try to take the reserve as their own, and a small war erupts as the First Nations decide that they will no longer let the white men take what it theirs. The river keeps the war bloodless, in a way, and eventually it is resolved.

The town and reserve were abuzz for several weeks after the miners’ war ended. It was nearly the end of November when River realized that her birthday, or Ricky’s birthday, as odd as that now felt to her, was nearing. On November 24 she would turn 15. She was reminded of the fact by her sessions in the river, which was continually announcing that it had a ‘present’ for her.

Fall had turned to winter, and there was snow on the ground. The first few inches came days after the war, and it was a threat of a blizzard that got the last reporters to flee the area. The blizzard didn’t come until mid-month, but then it dumped eight inches of snow on the reserve, and the locals warned that that snow would still be there, at the bottom of a much bigger pile, at the end of March.

That was new for River. In Toronto there were usually only two or three significant snowfalls a winter, messing up traffic for a day, and then taking another two or three days for the works crews to clean up the streets. Then there would be a warm spell, and the snow would disappear. Dale said that in his youth there had been snow on the ground all winter, but River didn’t remember it. Global warming, probably.

But north of Lake Superior, snows came and snows stayed. In St. Mary’s there were works crews that tried to keep the streets clear, but in the reserve there were only a couple of men with snow-blowers who cleared paths through the reserve, mainly to allow the students to get to the bus stops. Another path was made down to the meeting place near the river, although after each Sunday the hundreds who came to River’s services widened the path.

The river was still open. It told River that it would remain so until after her birthday, and then would freeze up. The water was so cold that it could freeze several inches thick overnight. The river told River she should still perform the services after it froze, but could stand on the ice instead of in the water. Sure enough, no matter how much snow fell during a week, before services the wind would blow the ice clear, as well as a space for the people to stand. It got to the point where there was a series of hockey games along the river on Sunday afternoons, with boys (and girls) of various ages playing in pickup games with their peers.

The service before River’s birthday would be the last one where she stood in open water. Her birthday was on Wednesday that week, and the river promised that she would be able to visit it that morning. It also let her know that she could continue to visit each morning, even after there was ice on top. She would still be fed sustenance and information by the river, although it was not as efficient as through the water.

That Wednesday she felt trepidation as she entered the water for the last time of the year. The river was still warm around her, in spite of the snowy surroundings.

Where will the animals drink when you are frozen? she asked the river.

There will be cracks in the ice near the banks in several places, it replied. And many of the animals will just eat snow to get water.

Good, River said.

You didn’t think I would let my charges go thirsty, did you?

No. I guess not. You are Manitou, and all depend on you, don’t they.

Yes. And today I have a birthday present for you.

Just talking to you: being with you, is enough of a present for me, River said.

This is not a present you can hold in your hand. It is one you can hold in your heart. Have you ever wondered why you were chosen to be rivertalker?

Many times, River answered. I always wondered why you chose me and not one of the people.

That is the thing, the river said. You are one of the people. Your mother’s great-grandmother was Ojibwe, and your father’s great-great-grandfather was also one of the people. You, and Mark, are 3/32th Ojibwe. Your mother is 1/8th, and your father is 1/16th. You are all of the people. The government men will not accept such a small amount, but for Manitou any trace makes you one of us.

That is amazing. Wonderful, River said. I wonder why I never knew this before?

Your ancestors were of the common people, the river said. To them, marrying a member of the people was acceptable. But a generation or two later they had moved up in society, so they tended to hide their native blood. Eventually, not even the family remembered the past.

So is that why Mark is getting to look so much like an Ojibwe? River asked.

Partially that, and also because I had to make him grow so much to avoid the problems he faced in Toronto. His size makes him more appropriate as the Protector, and looking native also helps. In your case, I decided to keep the Nordic parts of your past alive, so you remain blonde like your mother. I could change you, if you wish.

No, River said. I kinda like the way I look now, although a year ago if you told me I would be a girl with long hair and breasts, I would have laughed out loud. I probably would have also laughed if you told me I would be standing chest deep in water, talking to a river. Thank you, this has been a wonderful present.

It is not the entire present, the river said. There is more.

More?

Yes. You have been misinformed that a rivertalker must be a virgin. That is not so. The reason that Edith Freedove lost the right to be rivertalker was not that she married, but because she married too young, and without my consent. She defied me in favour of her man, and this cost her the connection she had with me.

So I will be able to marry? To have children?

Yes to both, the river said. But not yet. I approve of your gentleman friend down in London. The difference in your ages is large, but in time it will not be. He has proven to be faithful, even when he feels that he will never be able to consummate his love for you. Not many men would do that.

When? What can we do?

I want you to continue as you have been doing. You haven’t even kissed him on the lips, have you? River shook her head. You will continue that way for another year. On your birthday next year, or the first time you meet after that, you may kiss him. The year following, you may kiss him in the way that Mark was kissed last month. And the year following, you will be eighteen. That is when you can do anything you wish, so long as you do not allow yourself to become with child. If you decide you wish to marry, you must ask me first, and be aware that I will not consent until you are at least 22, and possibly as old as 28.

Oh my, oh my, oh my. River was almost giddy with the news. Can I tell Wayne?

Of course. Make him aware of my limitations though.

River left the water soon afterwords, and headed to Marilyn’s house. No one would be awake in hers, but Luv had a habit of getting someone up in the next door neighbors house early. River often visited, and would use the key they had given her to creep in. Then when Luv woke and started crying wet or hungry, she would get the baby and let the Summerstorms sleep.

But today Marilyn got up anyway, and smiled as she watched River diapering her daughter as she suckled on the bottle of expressed milk that had been in the fridge.

“You look so natural at that,” Marilyn said. “It is a shame you can’t have one of your own one day.”

“But I can,” River nearly crowed, as she told Marilyn what the river had told her. When she finished, her older friend hugged her closely.

“You realize that it might not be Wayne,” she told River. “I mean you might meet someone your own age. Or he might meet someone at college.”

“Hah. Fat chance of me meeting anyone better than Wayne around here,” she said. “I do worry that he might meet someone at college. Someone he can date and make love to. But if he does, then he was not the right one for me. I will cry for a month, but it will be for the best.”

“But if he does wait for you …” Marilyn prompted.

“Then he is perfect for me,” River crowed. “Even the river feels that he would be good for me: that he is special.”

“Well, I think he will wait. Everyone can see what there is between the two of you. And if it is just a matter of time, I’m sure he will wait. After all, he has been willing to wait so far, when he thought that it was forever. He really does love you, River.”

“Do you think so? Oh, I hope you are right. I just want to call him right now and tell him the news.”

“You can use our phone, if you want,” Marilyn offered.

“No, I will call on Skype tonight,” River said. “I want to be able to see his face when I tell him. Oh, I just want to see his face. His last class ends at four today. I will call him right after that.”

“So tell me about the party,” Marilyn said.

“It is just going to be a small one,” River said. “Me and Mark, Mom and Dad. You and Nick and Luv. She needs to be at her Auntie River’s 15th birthday. A couple of girls from school are coming over too, I think.”

That turned out to be as far from the truth as possible. Alison served cake to the family at five after River got off of Skype with Wayne, but after six there was a steady stream of people coming to the door, bearing gifts and food. The result was another First Nations feast day that didn’t end until midnight.

The gifts River got were wonderful. The women of the band had seemed to go out of their way to try and outdo one another. Some made elaborate pow-wow costumes that would be suitable for services. A larger number provided skirts and vests that were more suitable to school, where River insisted on wearing native clothing. There was a large collection of jewelry, almost all in a native motif.

There was a special gift from Dawn Winter. It was a hardcover first edition of her newest book. The inside cover was autographed in Dawn’s flowing text with “To River Waters, who made this book possible. I can never repay you. Dawn Winter.”

“Look inside,” Cindy urged, leafing through to the dedication. This was the printed one that would appear in every book printed. It read: “To River, who introduced me to a new and wonderful world that I never want to leave.”

“That could be me, or the river,” River said. “I will assume it is the river. When did the book come out?”

“I had most of it written before I got sick,” Dawn said. “I have been editing like crazy since the river cured me. I finished three weeks ago, and sent it off to my publisher. They had thought I had disappeared, so it wasn’t in their fall catalog. When they got it they called Nick to confirm that it really was me, and then went all out to get it to print. There are a lot of grandmas and aunts who always buy a copy of my book as a Christmas gift for my fans, and I’m so glad they won’t be disappointed. There is a paperback coming out in three weeks, just before Christmas. Apparently the advance sales are through the roof.”

“Wow,” River hugged Dawn. “That is so great. I am so thrilled for you. And this was a really special gift. I guess this means you will be staying around here?”

“I hope so,” Dawn laughed. “Your Dad just told me that my house is finished and I can move in whenever I want. It will probably be over the Christmas school break, when the girls are back with their parents.”

“And then we will be next door neighbors,” Cindy squealed. “You and I can walk to the bus together.”

“Along with Wendy Jean and Galena,” River noted, nodding at Dawn’s two boarders. “You three may not be so pleased at having to ride a bus every morning.”

“We will love it,” Wendy Jean said, and Galena shook her head in agreement. “I just hope I can get to the bus stop with my wheelchair.”

“If you can’t, I can always take you in the van,” Dawn said. “One of the advantages of working from home. I usually do most of my writing in the early morning, so I am up when the girls roll out of bed. It is going to be heaven in the new house with three makeup sinks.”

“Three?” River asked.

“Yes, Cindy has an en-suite, and there is a double sink in the main washroom the girls use.”

“Dawn made them make one of the sinks wheelchair accessible,” Wendy Jean said. “I can’t wait.”

“The entire house was designed to be accessible,” Dale said. “There are a lot of features that we are carrying over to the other houses we build. They may not have people in wheelchairs in them, but as populations age the accessible house will be more and more important in time.

It was Mark who came up with the idea of a Longest Night Celebration. While he had missed visiting the river with River on her last night, he still went with her about 80 per cent of the time, even now that the river had iced up. He remembered Manitou telling him of Longest Night celebrations in the old days, when he was writing his story, and suggested that it was a tradition that needed to be continued.

River agreed to talk it up with both elders and her classmates, and everyone was thrilled by the idea. The students loved the idea because it meant they would get out of school two days earlier, since solstice fell on December 21 and school didn’t let out until the 22nd. The elders loved the idea because it would be restoring an old tradition that was before even their time.

There was even talk that it should replace Christmas entirely, as an Ojibwe version of the holiday, but in the end it was decided that this would be difficult. So many young children were too invested in the idea of Christmas and Santa Claus to have that tradition broken. Instead River decided that Longest Night would be a less commercial time when only handmade gifts would be shared, and usually only with loved ones. River added the last bit in hopes of preventing the women of the band from inundating her with more clothes.

The celebration went off without a hitch, save one. One of the teachers at Mark’s school was upset when he learned that all the First Nations students would be leaving two days early for Christmas break, and he decided to have a special class on the 21st, with a test on that material on the 22nd to punish the absent students.

Unfortunately, it backfired on him. The remaining students were too wired up on the second last day of classes to absorb new material, and having a test two hours before the start of vacation resulted in a class average, among the students who wrote the test, of only 18 per cent. Parents of A students were outraged, and demanded that a rewrite be made. In January he repeated the class, expanding it to three days from one, and then offering the rewrite. The class average rose to 78 per cent, and Mark was the only student to get perfect, infuriating the teacher since he was one of the students who had missed the initial class.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Thanks to Eric for getting this turned around so fast. The delay was all on my side. I hope to keep the schedule to a week for the next chapter (this was eight days): Dawn

Chapter 38 – Moving On

So far: River gets some great news from the river on her birthday, and then sees her small celebration grow and grow and grow. Finally, Mark brings back a historic Ojibwe celebration with Longest Night to celebrate the solstice.

Winter in northern Ontario can be bleak. Snow, cold, short days, long nights and bad tempers for most people. But along the river the last one didn’t occur this year. In February River promoted a winter festival, with all the people in the community coming together for a multi-cultural celebration. Almost everyone on the reserve brought their gas barbecues to the site of the future Ginny’s Place II. The hunters who had been successful in the deer season brought part of their haul, and there were moose and bear burgers as well. Mark had a group of his friends go ice fishing the day before, and there was a good catch of fish to grill too.

River led a team of elders in judging the ice sculptures. These were not by the professionals who go from festival to festival to compete, but eight band teams and two from the town that got together and put out some incredible sculptures. Judging was hard, but Rod’s team eventually won with their larger-than-life sculpture of Jerome, the wolf that had been shot by Moonie in the summer.

There were cross country ski races, as well as snowshoe races. Mark won the latter, in the adult class. He decided that he wouldn’t participate in the middle school class, nor the high school class. He was also on the winning team of the lacrosse game that was played on a snowy field that was soon trampled down to near ice by the players, resulting in a version of lacrosse that mimicked hockey in many ways, with the players able to slide along the icy ground as if on skates.

There was both curling and hockey played on the river, with games running all day long. The hot chocolate provided by Carla’s Spirit Squad from the high school warmed the spectators. Liesl was a competitor in a Bake Queen competition, and took a third place for her biscuits and a second for her cherry pie. She was named Junior Bake Queen for participating at such a young age, while the Bake Queen competition was bitterly fought out by several of the elders who had been baking their entire lives, along with three women from the town who also vied for the title. All the baking was sold after judging, resulting in visitors to the celebrations munching on brownies or cookies as they watched the events.

The three-day event attracted pretty much everyone from the band, and most of the people of the town. There was also a good participation from Terrace Bay, and parents and family of the students attending the high school came in from the area reserves. Proceeds from the event were earmarked for Rod’s mission.

Now that Marilyn, Nick and Luv were living in their house, the mission was using the RV that they had been living in. This allowed them to go out to distant reserves and sleep in the RV rather than having to find other accommodation. The team, including therapy wolf Silver, went out about once a week, spending three to five days on the road and visiting two or three reserves. Results were generally positive. It depended on how serious the situation was at the various reserves, but several times there were children or youth at the edge of suicide, and in all cases they could be pulled back one way or another. Silver was important in several cases, and River began to notice when the RV returned that if the wolf leapt out with a certain swagger she would later hear that the wolf had again saved a child.

Carl Bluelake had painted “Ojibwe Pride Mission” on the sides of the RV, and it began to be a noticed sight in the north.

In the store, Connie was totaling up the day’s receipts. She was starting to show her baby bulge, with her child due in early May. This meant that an assistant manager had to be found for the store, and four of the part-time clerks were vying for the position. River and Connie had already decided that all four would be moved into full-time staff positions in May, with the winner of the competition getting a slightly higher salary. Summer traffic on the highway would make the store busier during that time.

Up until Christmas the store had mainly run on volunteer labor, with bonus money from the profits allocated to the volunteers. As sales increased around Christmas, the entire store moved to paid hours, although all were part time except Connie. When sales fell back after Christmas, the hours in the store were reduced to just the four part-timers.

Most of the others moved into the back of the shop, where sales over the Internet continued to grow. In January and February there were occasional days when the store had no sales at all, but every morning the Internet staff found an inbox full of orders and enquiries, and there were sufficient hours packaging and shipping out the goods to keep several people busy all day long.

Colin RedHawk continued to be in charge of the computer operations, but now that he was in school, he was strictly management, receiving a salary for training staff and ensuring that the system was working correctly. His salary was the second highest in the store, after only Connie, even though he technically worked part-time hours. In fact, River had noticed that at school he often had the store website up on his laptop in class. It didn’t seem to hurt his marks. Colin was one of the top students in the class.

As River had predicted, the girls in the class were now chasing Colin. The ones that called him pizza-face last year before the river had cleared his acne were now plainly flirting with them. He dated many of the girls in the class, and had gone out with Carla Summerstorm several times, Galena Snowbear twice, and her sister Wendy Jean once, to her amazement.

Dating in the town was not easy, as the Rube machine was covered in tarps in late November, to the chagrin of the high school students. Plans were to unwrap it again in late March when spring was rumored to come. That was still a rumor in the north, for the snows would always last into April.

That left drives to scenic lookouts for the older students, where several lookouts had gotten a reputation as “make out spots.” For the student who couldn’t drive yet, the main date night had traditionally been pizza at the hotel. One of the two rooms was not licensed to serve alcohol, and young people often filled the place on Friday and Saturday nights, either dating or just meeting up in groups.

Acting on a suggestion from River, Carla had led the Spirit Squad to start movie nights at the high school every Thursday night. They showed CDs of old romantic movies, starting with Casablanca and then working through Breakfast at Tiffany’s, West Side Story, and Sound of Music prior to the Christmas break. Mr. George, the Ojibwe teacher, of all people, was the staff advisor and chaperone for the event. His only rule was that no westerns would be shown, since most patronized the native Americans. Each week a different club in the school would man the kitchen and serve up pizza and pop before or after the event, earning funds for their group.

The events were well attended, with almost all the students coming. Those dating would sit together at the back, of course, while other groups of friends scattered throughout the gym. There was a $2 fee to see the movie, so the kids could each enjoy a night out for under $10, if they bought a pop and pizza as well.

Rod expressed great interest in the film nights, and attended several to see how they ran. One of his biggest problems in visiting rural reserves was that the kids had nothing to do. In those places the students were all pre-high school, but by suggesting weekly film nights in the local elementary schools, the students would have something to look forward to each week, and the depression and isolation they felt would be lessened. Almost every reserve jumped at the idea, with parents and teachers saying that they planned to offer such events.

One of the benefits of being on the Spirit Squad was an exemption from attending gym class. Apparently it was considered a sports team, even though it never became a full cheerleader program. Carla didn’t mind. She was not a fan of sports anyway, with her memories of being chosen last for teams when she was down south, and then picked on in the games by the bigger and stronger boys.

Now she used her gym period to do Spirit Squad work, and one day in late February she managed to get River and Galena Snowbear out of class to “help” her hang posters for the upcoming winter carnival events. The girls walked the halls of the small school, posting notices and decorating them to draw attention. And gossiping. Mostly gossiping.

“How is your sister doing?” River asked Galena. Wendy Jean was also exempt from gym, since she was wheelchair bound. Instead she spent her gym period in the library, tutoring students in math and science, two subjects that she really enjoyed.

“She is so much better,” Galena said. “I mean, I love her and all. She is my sister. But to tell you the truth, she used to be hard to deal with sometimes. Always moping and complaining, trying to bring everyone else down. But since you took her into the river last summer, she is totally different. Now she is upbeat and fun to be with. Thank you for that, River.”

“Thank the river,” she replied. “I just help it. I thought that it would cure her … make it so she could walk again. But instead it just showed her a different way of living.”

“It worked so well, too,” Galena said. “She is happy, and doesn’t consider that she is handicapped. She started wearing makeup and nicer clothes, and has really made a slew of friends in the school.”

“She helped me with my math a couple times,” Carla mentioned. “River usually does that, but sometimes she is too busy. Wendy Jean never seems to be too busy. I know all the kids she helps just love her.”

“She wants to be a teacher now,” Galena said. “She says it is so rewarding when you can help someone to ‘get it’ with something. I’m jealous of that. I don’t know what I want to do when I get out of school.”

River laughed. “We are still young. You have years to figure things out. You would make a good nurse, you know. Your marks are good enough, and there is always a demand for nurses in the reserves.”

“Yeah, that would be cool. I really like to help people. I guess I’m like Wendy Jean like that.”

“Or you could just find a rich man and marry him,” Carla said. “You are pretty enough.”

Galena laughed. Unfortunately your brother Nick is about the only rich man on the reserve, and he is taken. Thanks for the compliment, though.”

The girls went into the library to post a few more notices, and had to stop talking. They saw Wendy Jean in the corner with three different boys surrounding her wheelchair getting math help. She waved and smiled at her sister and friends, who waved back, trying hard to be quiet. The librarian stared at them the entire time they were in the room, so they had no choice.

George Audette finally picked up her welding torch, and let out a sigh of relief. It was 2 p.m. and this was the first chance she had to do any welding. The shop she and Kyle operated was becoming more and more like a factory. There were now nine people working there besides them, and George had gotten most of the management duties. Kyle was an ideas kind of guy, and it was up to her to put his ideas into practice.

It had started with two young workers to build swings and lawn ornaments out of the old tires they were getting in. Once these went onto the Internet they were an instant hit, and demand kept growing. Now there were four men and a woman making them. Another man was a full-time welder now, and two others were trainees, with George spending a lot of her time training them. The other employee was a woman working in the office, an old school bus just outside the barn. Until she had taken over the paperwork in October, George had been working herself towards a nervous breakdown. But she had to be trained, and all the others.

“I never get to just weld anymore,” the native woman moaned as she started a bead on a sheet of steel. “That’s what I love, and now it seems I’m just a boss.” Then she shook her head and concentrated on her work. After all, she had no chance of going back to the old days again. She and Kyle were making money hand over fist, and if they stopped tomorrow they would be fine for years. But it wasn’t that easy. There were nine employees to think about. She couldn’t just let them all go back onto welfare. Some of them had families, and Martin, one of the trainee welders, was planning to marry his girlfriend in June. Kyle was already designing a small Rube for the wedding reception. She would love to go back to the old days, but she had too many people depending on her.

After a half hour of just welding, her mood was better. Then one of the trainees ran up to her. “You better come quick. We have a problem.”

Mark was gone from Friday afternoon until Monday morning one day in early March. Tall John George had formed a group of ten boys from the reserve called the Young Warriors and they were doing a winter camp. Mark had even gotten his friend from school, Chester Mims to join in. Chester was a year older than Mark, but several years younger than all the other Young Warriors, and smaller than all of them.

But the problem getting Chester permission hadn’t been on that end at all. It was his mother. She was the overprotective type, and really didn’t understand First Nations culture. She was baffled by the idea that anyone would voluntarily head out into the wilderness in winter with next to no food. But Chester whined, and Mrs. Mims knew and trusted Mark and knew that he wouldn’t let Chester get hurt. She finally agreed, but as reluctantly as possible. She knew that one day she would need to let go of the apron strings, but she didn’t expect it would happen when her son was in Grade Six.

She dropped Chester off at Mark’s home, marveling at the elaborate house he now lived in. She embarrassed her son badly hugging and kissing him as if she would never see him again. Luckily it was only Mark there. Once Mrs. Mims was gone, the boys packed up and started hiking off to the place where they would meet the others.

The camp went well. Chester found it cold, especially at night in the small structures that the boys had built, four to a lodge. Soon after he fell asleep he warmed up though, and it was only in early morning when he discovered why.

“Mark? Mark, are you awake?”

“Yeah Chester,” Mark answered groggily.

“Mark. There is something laying on my legs that wasn’t there before.”

Mark propped himself up, and looked over at the smaller boy. “That’s Night. He won’t hurt you. You’re lucky. He must have kept you warm last night.”

“He’s as big as a wolf,” Chester said timidly.

“He is a wolf,” Mark said. Just then Night stood up, giving the boys a disgusted look that seemed to say ‘how’s a guy going to sleep with all this chatter going on?’, and crept out of the lodge.

“A w-w-wolf? Let’s not tell Mom about this one.”

The boys then got up and went to do their business, and Mark introduced Night to Chester, and the other way around. The wolf slept with Chester for the rest of the camping trip, keeping him warm, and also was close at hand during the days, when the boys learned archery, tracking, and trapping, finally getting enough prey to make a good stew for their dinner. Chester was less impressed by Tall John’s lessons in skinning the rabbits and possum they caught, but did admit that the food they ate that night was tasty. Young Warriors don’t take canned or packaged food on their camps. If they don’t catch anything, they go home hungry. Luckily on this trip the traditional traps worked, and they ate well each night.

At the end of the trip, Tall John allocated the furs to the boys and gave Chester a bloody possum pelt. Mark took charge of it when Chester noted that his mother would have no idea what to do with it. Mark had four rabbit pelts, since his traps had been the most productive, and he hoped that the pelts would freeze until River could take them into the river to cure them.

It turned out that he didn’t need to bother River with them. All winter Marilyn had been teaching four separate groups of girls about First Nations life, with different groups coming each night, Monday to Thursday. Each group was seven or eight girls, and Luv was the center of the focus of the group as they tended the young baby and watched her develop from week to week while learning parenting skills.

But Marilyn had them doing more than that. The girls also learned about domestic tasks, such as cooking and making bread (both traditional and wheat loaves). There was sewing, with each of the older girls making a pow-wow skirt or dress, while the younger groups just did embroidery on one of their existing garments. Marilyn also taught traditional dance and singing to her charges.

When Marilyn learned that Mark had five raw hides, she volunteered her girls with them, teaching them how to properly tan a hide in the traditional manner, with all natural materials. The girls flinched a bit, especially with the rabbit hides, since it was still clear what they had been. But they were for Mark, who all the younger girls, and many of the older ones, had a crush on. Eventually each group was able to finish one hide, with Marilyn doing most of Chester’s possum hide in demonstrating for the girls. After several weeks she returned Chester’s hide to him, which he kept as a souvenir of his camp.

Mark let Marilyn keep his four rabbit hides, which soon decorated several of the garments that the girls were sewing.

Nick was also busy through the winter. In November five First Nations men approached him, and said that they had been let go by the mill, some of them after as many as 25 years working there. None had received anything more than two weeks severance pay, and Nick quickly went after the company to get the full severance pay owed, up to the 23 additional weeks for the longest serving worker. Checks came just in time for the five families to have a small Christmas instead of none.

Nick continued to work on the case even after the checks came for the five. He found that another eight First Nations men had been let go since the prior March, and there were only two others still working at the plant. The men told stories of discrimination and abuse by the manager of the plant that had started at that time, who clearly was racist and anti-native. Two remaining First Nations workers were in charge of maintenance of the mill power plant. No one else seemed capable of keeping the machine running.

Sid Oldman, the new manager, had reassigned the two to general maintenance – basically sweeping floors – for several weeks prior to laying them off. Two days into their first notice week the power plant died, and the mill had to run off expensive power from the grid. The men were quickly sent back to maintaining it, and had it running on partial power after two days, and full power a week later. The layoff notices were rescinded, although they noticed that the manager scowled at them every time they met in the plant.

Three times over the subsequent months the men were ordered to train a white person how to do their jobs, and each time after a few days or a week that person was pulled back to work on the line. Apparently the plant was running on minimal staff, with little or no health and safety officer nor any maintenance done on equipment until the last minute.

The workers said the prior manager, who had retired, had three or four new machines ordered, including a new power plant, but all new equipment had been cancelled and the workers left at the plant were being worked ragged trying to compensate for the 13 First Nations men who had been let go.

Nick wondered if it might be smart for the plant to unionize. He spoke to a few of the white workers, who were all terrified of being found out by the manager, and learned that he had told them that any steps towards unionization would mean the plant would instantly close, as so many others across the province had recently. The men were paid well, for northern Ontario rural jobs, and none wanted to risk their employment, as bad as it was getting.

In the end, Nick decided against pushing the union issue, but continued to work towards a civil rights case against the plant.

Sid Oldman slammed the phone down in his office at the paper mill. It felt good. That was the big problem with cell phones … you just can’t slam one. The old office phone provided a good way to express the anger Sid was feeling.

The party at the other end of the line had been the manager of Shield Disposal Corp. A month ago the mill’s rep there had sent a letter announcing a 25% increase in disposal rates for the toxic chemicals the mill generated. The cost was already $2000 per trip, every two weeks, not to mention the cost of two men to drive down to Sault and back with a truckload. Another $500 per trip was totally unreasonable, Sid thought. He decided to use bargaining techniques that his young, female rep wouldn’t know hit her.

So Sid told the rep the increase was unacceptable, and unless they could come up with something better, then the mill would have to find another supplier for the service. The girl told him that the rate was not flexible, and she was sorry to be losing them as a customer.

That had been a week ago. Sid had scouted around, and found there were no other suppliers. Shield was storing the dangerous chemicals in an old steel mill in Sault, and space was filling up. The next nearest supplier was in Montreal, 15 hours away. Today Sid had called Shield back, ready to eat crow. And then that young girl had claimed that their slot had been filled, and there was no space available. The sales manager backed her up, and even when Sid escalated the call to the general manager he was told that there was no space available at any price. The mill had given up its slot, and other users had gobbled it up. That led to a few choice words, and the phone being slammed into the receiver.

Sid was irate. His cost cutting, which had gone so well over the past few months, had bitten him again. Last time it had just been a few days of expensive power until those Indians got the generator working again. This time he would come up with something as well. He always did. The chemicals could be stored in barrels at the mill until they could be disposed of. They certainly wouldn’t be making a trip to Montreal every other week. More like every other month, in a bigger truck, although Sid really didn’t want to have to buy a bigger truck this year. Maybe a lease.

He would sleep on it and make a decision in the morning.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 39 – Death

So far: Many of the residents of the area were updated on their winter activities, while a new and ominous character was introduced into the story.

Spring came on March 20 that year, although most people still considered March 21 to be the official date. Manitou seemed to prefer the second date, since the ice on the river broke up early in the morning and River and Mark went out at 2 a.m. to find the river filled with ice chunks flowing downstream.

“We can’t go out in that, can we?” Mark asked.

“I haven’t been in the river for months, and I certainly will at least try,” River said, stepping into a space that opened up near the bank. Once she was in the river, the ice chunks seemed to avoid her, and she reported back to her brother that the water was warm around her. Mark eased into another open spot, and found that the river also accommodated him.

“Oh, this feels so good,” River enthused as they edged their way into the middle of the stream, with the ice veering to the left and right of them as it flowed towards the lake. She had been standing on the ice most mornings through the winter, but that seemed as if there was a filter between her and the river. This – direct contact – just seemed all the more powerful.

The two Waters children were largely quiet as they spent the early morning in the river. Once, for about an hour, they submerged, and were amazed to see the ice flow over their heads as they sat on the river floor. When it was time to stand again, Mark rose first, so that any ice chunks would hit him rather than his smaller sister. But as he stood, the ice above again parted and flowed around him as he stood. River was also able to stand a second later.

When dawn came, the two refreshed and revitalized students headed off to their respective schools (it was a Wednesday). By the time Sunday services rolled along, there were only a few small chunks of ice flowing down to the mouth of the river. The lake was still frozen over at the St. Mary’s harbor, but somehow the river ice slid under the lake ice, so that no damage was done to the docks and boats there.

Service Sunday was finished as normal, and River found three visitors to the reserve who wanted to learn the Ojibwe language and history, so she resumed her sessions again, taking the people into the river and singing the history and language into them. She announced that she would only be doing this on weekends now, both Saturday and Sunday at 4 p.m. and over the next few weeks larger and larger crowds started to come, since Rod and the girls had been spreading the word to other communities in the area all winter on their mission. When First Nations people heard the river was open again, many families came to experience it for themselves. They returned to their reserves, and told their friends there, and more and more came to the river.

It was a Tuesday in early May when River and Mark were in the river. Term was nearly over for River, who expected to be exempted from nearly all her high school exams, thus getting out of school a week early. Mark had a few more weeks to go after high school ended finishing up at the end of June, so he actually had some homework to do. As well, he was writing a new story with the help of the river, based on the life of Pontiac, a famous First Nations warrior who was partly Ojibwe. As with his story of Roundstones, he was fed background information from Manitou, and then told the story to River who typed it into her laptop while they both sat at the bottom of the river.

They had just gotten started on the third part of the story when there was a sudden cooling of the water. “Get out,” the river shouted at both of them. “Danger, danger. Get out now.” With that the river turned ice cold and River and Mark immediately stood up and waded quickly to the bank as the cold water seemed to attack their legs.

“What was that?” Mark said as he lay shivering on the riverbank.

“I don’t know. Look, our clothes are soaked. That never happens. The computer … it is fried, I think. Look,” she pointed down the river. An oily slick was floating down towards them. “There is something in the river.”

They stood and watched, and slowly the slick approached them, and crept past. They started to see dead animals and fish in the water. She found it disgusting to see something like that, but amplified even more when she recognized dead otters that she once played with.

“Oh my God. Dear Manitou. What caused this?” River said, and then she fell to the ground in a heap, screaming.

Mark knew what had happened to her. He also was staggered. The river had died. His connection to it was not as strong as River’s, but he felt the loss. He could no longer see in the dark. Luckily the moon was nearing full, so he could still see a bit, but not as clearly as when Manitou had been enhancing his vision.

“It … it … it is dead,” River gasped. “Last year it just stopped talking to me for a few days, but now … the river is dead.” She wailed.

“We have to warn the others,” Mark said. “Our water supply. The town’s. And the animals that come here to drink. We have to act.”

“Yes,” River agreed, but was still unable to stand. Mark pulled her up and started to carry her towards their house. She seemed heavier now, and Mark realized that the river was no longer amplifying his strength. “Put me down,” River insisted, and she tried to stagger on her own. “You run ahead. Tell Nick and Dad, and let them alert the others. I can follow on alone.”

Mark stopped and looked at his sister. She did not look like she could make it to the house alone, but he realized it was important to get the word out. River staggered a few more steps, and then Mark turned and started to run towards the new houses. River made several more steps, and then collapsed into a cold, sodden huddle.

That was how Alison found her daughter 15 minutes later. Mark had come to the house and roused them from their sleep, and Dale and he had then headed over to the Summerstorm house next door to get Nick. Alison had waited a few minutes for River, and then went out to search for her with a flashlight, finally finding the sobbing girl slowly crawling towards the house.

“River,” Alison called out as she saw her.

“Momma. It is dead. The river is dead. I saw it. I felt it. It just snapped. One minute it was fine and strong. Then it weakened. It knew it was dying, and warned Mark and me. And then it died. The connection just snapped. It died, just like that,” she broke down in her mother’s arms.

“Come, honey,” Alison said. “You are cold and wet. We need to get you to the house. Can you walk?”

“I’ll try,” River said. “But I don’t know if it matters. With the river gone, what is there to live for?”

“River,” he mother shouted. “Don’t talk like that. Come. We are going home.”

Alison nearly carried River along until they neared the house. They were about to go inside when River heard something. “What is that?” she asked.

Alison stopped and listened. “It just sounds like Luv, crying, next door. Come on in.”

“No, we have to go to her,” River said.

“You aren’t going anywhere until you get dry clothes on,” her mother ordered, and then hauled her into the house. River ran to her room while Alison went to make some hot chocolate. She had half finished when she heard the door slam shut. She turned off the stove, and then went to follow River, who was running over to the Summerstorms.

“River!” exclaimed a panicky Marilyn, who was trying to calm an agitated Luv. The baby was screaming. “I don’t know what is wrong.”

River took the baby into her arms as Alison reached the house. Luv immediately stopped screaming, but now was making huge, wracking sobs as River held her to her chest.

“What happened?” Marilyn said. “She stopped screaming as soon as you touched her.”

“It is the river,” River said. “It died. Someone has killed it. Mark and I were there, and we saw the stuff they used to do it, floating down on the water. Luv must feel like I do. She was born in the river, and the river nurtured her and kept her alive. You fed her, but it was with sustenance from the river itself. I’ve only known the river for less than a year, but it had been a part of her entire life. I can only imagine what she is feeling.”

“Oh my God,” Marilyn said. “I had just finished feeding her, and was trying to burp her. I thought I had hit her too hard or something because she just started to wail. It got Nick up, and then Dale and Mark came by and took off. I didn’t know what to do. Luv has never been sick or colicky.”

“That is because the river has always been feeding her. Not physically, but emotionally she was still connected to it. When I took her, she realized that I was also mourning the river, and maybe that’s why the screaming stopped. But she is still hurting inside in a way that she has never felt before. It might be a long time before she smiles again. I know it will be for me.”

“But you now have a reason to live,” Alison said. “You need to be here, and to be strong for Luv. Give her a reason to live as well.”

“Yes mother,” River said. “But I … I’m really tired. The river isn’t feeding me. I need to sleep. But I don’t want to leave Luv. She needs me.”

“I think she needs sleep too,” Marilyn said. “Why don’t you two curl up in our guest bedroom. Your Mom and I will wake you if there is any need.”

Mark went to the Stormcloud house to alert Wayne, recently back from college in London. He told the events to Wayne and his father Ben. Wayne’s initial reaction was to go to River, but both Ben and Mark said that they had to alert the reserve. They went door to door in the moonlight, rousing all the men, and as many of the women as possible. Even teens got into the act, and soon there were natives all up and down both banks of the river, preventing any animals from coming to drink at dawn.

Nick and Dale headed into town, waking the man who ran the town waterworks, getting it shut down before the tainted water got to the inlet.

By the time they were back at the reserve, there were several hundred people of the First Nations along the river, keeping any animals from approaching the river. There was a stench to the once clear water, which hopefully would keep animals from drinking it, but the people didn’t want to take any chances. They stood guard until well after dawn. The high school students left to go to class, along with any middle school students like Mark that had been out.

The high school students were back an hour later. The school was closed due to lack of water in the building. The middle school wasn’t affected, since Terrace Bay had a different water system, using lake water.

At 10 a.m. the slick on the river was starting to ease a bit, with much of the pollution already out into the lake. The river still stank though, with dead fish and small mammals like otter and beaver befouling the banks. There was still an oily sheen on the grasses around the banks, at it was starting to kill the grass and reeds growing there.

Most of the people had left, but Wayne, Nick, Ben and Dale were standing besides the bank when a car with a Ministry of the Environment decal on the door drove up. “What’s happened here,” a small, balding man of about 45 years of age asked. His nametag identified him as Colin Westerbrook, MoE Field Agent.

“Something has polluted the river,” Nick said.

“That is something I will decide,” the man said officiously. He walked over to the river and looked over the bank, down at two dead beavers and several trout tangled in the decaying reeds.

“Yes, it looks polluted,” he decreed. “When did this start?”

“This morning,” Nick said. “About 2:30 a.m. We managed to contact the town water plant and get them to shut down before it got to them.”

“What?” the man shouted. “You can’t do that. You don’t have the authority. Only a MoE Field Agent can order a water plant shut. I’ll have to call the plant.”

He took out his cell and managed to get a connection, since he was near enough the highway that coverage still existed. It was clear that he was talking to the manager of the water plant. All four men were astonished when he ordered the plant manager to reopen the plant, until he could come by later and officially close it.

Nick snatched the phone out of Westerbrook’s hand. “Bob, Nick Summerstorm here. I just wanted to ask you … do you have the ability to close the plant off if you see a potential problem?” There was a pause as the man answered. “Good. I thought so. You did see a problem, right?” Another pause. “So the plant can be left closed until your MoE fellow comes down and confirms that the water is polluted?” Another pause. “He’ll be down shortly, I think.” He handed the phone back to the agent.

“That phone is government property,” Agent Westerbrook fumed. “You had no right to take it from me. I’ll be checking the regulations, and you may well be charged with something. You better get a lawyer.”

“I am a lawyer,” Nick said. “And if you had Bob open the plant up again, then all that pollution would have gotten into it and there would have been a massive delay in cleaning it once the river is cleaned up again. It would have added weeks to the time we are without water.”

“You are probably going to be without water for several months, based on what I see here,” the agent said. “I will need to take samples, and get them back to the lab in Thunder Bay. Is there a FedEx depot here?”

“No, but we have a local courier here. Hank RedBear can take your samples to the city,” Ben said.

“No, no, no. The Ministry only contracts with FedEx, Purolator, or UPS. Are any of those here?”

“Sorry, no. RedBear is the only local service,” Ben said.

“That won’t do. That won’t do at all. I’ll have to phone FedEx to get a truck up here immediately. I need to get samples from here to the labs as quickly as possible.”

“We were just talking about walking upriver for a bit, to see if we can tell where the pollution started,” Nick said. “Do you want to come with us?”

“No, no, no. I have to take samples at the treatment plant, and then come back here and take some samples here. I won’t be able to get upriver for some time. Besides, how could you know where the pollution starts? You aren’t trained to do that, are you?”

“No, we aren’t,” Nick said. “But you will notice that there is a lot of oil slick still at the edge of the bank. I suspect that when we get to an area where there is no more oil on the bank, we will be close to where the pollution entered the river.”

The agent harrumphed. “Perhaps. But I don’t want amateurs messing with my investigation.”

“You know,” Wayne suggested, “you could save some time if you took your samples here right now, and then got the ones from the plant, rather than the other way around.”

“No, no, no. There are policies that have to be followed. I need to sample the plant first, and then the source areas. It is in the manual.”

With that the little man left, and the four from the reserve had a good chuckle about government bureaucracy as they walked up the river, examining the destruction to the once pristine environment.

“This is worse than it was before River and the junior rangers cleaned things up,” Wayne noted. “And I certainly don’t want her touching those animals in another cleanup.”

“I’m sure the manual explains how to do the cleanup,” Ben joked. “I suppose it will have to be done from canoes, although I’d never want one of my canoes in that water. It is a shame. I just want to find out how this happened.”

Then men walked for several miles until they were near the edge of the reservation. Suddenly, the oil slick was gone. They investigated the area, and Ben, who had decent tracking skills, came across an area where it appeared that a pickup truck had backed up to the bank, with several sets of footprints around it. Nick warned the others not to get close and contaminate the scene.

“We should call Constable Sloot at the OPP and get him up here before that little MoE fool comes. If the manual doesn’t say to keep away from a crime scene, he probably will walk all through these tracks.”

“I don’t think Const. Sloot is back to work yet,” Ben noted. “What about that lady cop that was up here when the miners were causing problems? She seemed pretty sharp and fair. Sandra Harper: I think that was her name.”

“Okay, let’s head back and call from the first house that has a phone,” Nick said. “There is no cell coverage this far out.”

Wayne was looking at the nearby mill. “I think I know where that filth came from. We should head over there and let them know what we think.”

“No,” Nick cautioned. “They can just deny it. We need proof. Photos and perhaps casts of those footprints might help. We’ll call April Audette in for pictures. She might be able to get good shots of the prints.”

The men only had to walk a few minutes until they came to a cabin with a phone, and called both the OPP and the photographer. They continued back to the area near their homes, and found the MoE car there, with the agent taking samples of the water in the river with a long stick. They waited until he finished, and packed the samples in a travel box, along with some other samples, presumably from the treatment plant.

“Now I have to wait for the FedEx truck,” Agent Westerbrook said.

“That could be your truck now,” Wayne said as he saw Hank RedBear drive up with his truck.

“You have a package for me?” Hank said as he got out of the cab.

“No, no, no,” the agent said. “I can only deal with FedEx, Purolator, or UPS. It’s in the manual.”

“I am FedEx,” Hank said. “The Thunder Bay office called a few minutes ago and said there would be an urgent pickup here. I am an agent for them. For Purolator too. I haven’t got hooked up with UPS yet, but I’m working on it.”

The agent insisted on seeing Hank’s FedEx identification tag, and examined it for nearly a minute before deciding that he could release the package to Hank, who immediately tore off towards Thunder Bay.

“Most unusual,” the agent muttered. “Now what?” An OPP cruiser was driving towards the men.

A young blonde female officer got out of the cruiser and approached. “One of you is Nick? Called about a possible dumping of chemicals into the river?”

“That would be me,” Nick said. “We walked up the river and think we found the spot where the chemicals were dumped.”

“No, no, no,” the agent said. “You can’t call the OPP in on this. This is my investigation.”

“If the chemicals were dumped illegally, then it is an OPP matter, isn’t it?” Nick asked.

“Yes. But I am the one who contacts them. I’m not to that point in my investigation. She has to leave. You can’t just call in the police. It is in the manual.”

“Well, she’s here now, so there is no reason why she shouldn’t look at the scene is there?”

“It’s not in the manual.”

“Good,” Nick said, assuming that meant yes, even though the agent thought it meant no. “Do you want one of us to ride with you to the spot we saw?” he asked the constable.

“That would be helpful,” Constable Harper said. Nick got into her car, after tossing his keys to his father. Nick’s pickup was the closest vehicle to them. Wayne, Dale and Ben followed the cruiser down the road, while the MoE agent stood there sputtering. He eventually got into his car and followed, wondering what else these people would do that was against the manual.

Nick directed the constable to stop a few hundred feet from the spot the men had found, and Ben pulled his truck up another hundred yards farther on, twisting the pickup so that it blocked the road completely, causing Agent Westerbrook to have to stop even further back. Then another car appeared. It was April Audette, and she got out of her car with a camera.

“No press, no press,” the little man said as she approached. “All press enquiries have to go through the divisional office in Sudbury.” April looked at him as though he was slightly insane, and then shouldered her way past to the four men, who were standing back as Const. Harper looked at the tracks. She came back to them.

“It does look like this is where the truck dumped the chemicals,” she said. She looked at April. “Who are you?”

“April is the band photographer,” Ben said. “We thought you might want some pictures. If it rains tonight, those tracks will be gone.”

“Good idea,” the constable said. She took April over to the tracks, and started directing her to take various shots, often looking at the images in the screen on April’s camera to ensure that she got what was needed. After 15 or 20 minutes, they came back.

“I have a camera. I should be taking the official pictures,” the agent said.

“You can take some now,” Const. Harper said, “If you come up with anything we missed we’ll be glad to use that.” The agent ran back to his car, and reappeared with a much smaller camera than the one April had used. He went and took pictures of the scene.

“Try to not step on the tracks,” Const. Harper admonished him. He had already stepped on prints and tracks several times.

“Thanks for calling me first, and bringing April along,” she told Nick quietly, so the agent couldn’t hear. That man is completely ruining the scene. Do you have any idea who might have done this?”

Nick pointed at the mill. “They make pulp for papermaking there, and there are a lot of chemicals in the treatment. I understood that they disposed of it safely at the facility in Sault, but management has changed at the mill recently. But we have no proof. I was thinking that we could have four or five men from the band stake this area out tonight to see if they come back again. Maybe we could catch them in the act. April may come. A photo or two of the truck would probably be helpful in building your case.”

“That’s right,” Const. Harper said, “you’re a lawyer. Well, if you want to try that tonight then I won’t approach the plant yet. It would just alert them to our suspicions. These men won’t be armed, will they?”

Nick smiled. “Well, they will have wolves close at hand. And they may have bows.”

Const. Harper returned his smile. “Ah yes. Like with the miners. Well, nobody got badly hurt then. Your guys are good. But I have to officially warn you not to bring firearms or any other weapons, including bow and arrow to your stakeout. If you do, you can be charged.”

“We have been officially warned,” Nick agreed. Both of them knew that the people would carry their bows.

The agent had finished taking his pictures, or tramping over all the tracks, whichever had been his goal, and came up to the others.

“Officer Harper,” he said, “I would like to officially ask the OPP to join into my investigation of this alleged crime. I will be contacting you tomorrow to let you know the results of my samples, and we can coordinate our activities further.”

“Noted,” the officer said, and she then got into her cruiser and drove off. The agent got into his car and followed her, not thinking to offer to take one of the other four. The manual probably prohibited politeness. Luckily, Nick drove a club cab, and Wayne was able to sit in the rear seat as they drove back to the houses. Now that the excitement was over, he was suddenly very concerned about River.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 40 – Resurrection

So far: The river has died, and River wants to die too. But there is Luv to think about, and her family. The men try to track down the killers, and are assisted by a very attractive and competent OPP officer, and a very plain and incompetent MoE agent.

The men went to the Waters’ house first, and finding it empty, went next door to Nick and Marilyn’s where they found it nearly full of women. River was holding Luv while eating pancakes. Liesl was cooking them. Marilyn, Alison, Shelly and Helen were all sitting around the table. The one exception to the femaleness of the situation was Mark, who had just gotten back from middle school and had found his home empty. He too was eating. Both River and he were no longer nourished by the river, and found their appetites greatly increased.

Ben immediately went to River and plucked Luv from her arms, only to find that his granddaughter roared in displeasure. “She is a little picky right now, Dad,” Marilyn said as he quickly returned the baby to River. “She won’t even let me hold her right now.”

“I see. If these culprits have made it so that I can’t even hug my dear granddaughter, then there will be hell to pay,” Ben said.

“You found out who did it?” Mark asked.

“We have an idea,” Nick said. “We are pretty sure we found the spot where the chemicals were dumped. We have an idea who did it, but we have to catch them in the act. We’re going to set up a watch tonight, and every night until we find them. They will pay for this.”

“There is nothing they can pay that will atone for what they have done,” River said glumly. “But I want to be there with you tonight.”

“I will be there too,” Mark said.

“You will not,” Alison said. “You will be at home, in bed, not traipsing around all night.”

“I am the Protector,” Mark announced. “I will be there.”

“You are 11. Stop pretending you are a teenager. You will do as I say,” Alison insisted, looking at Dale.

“I will look after them, honey,” Dale said. “This is important to him.”

Alison stopped talking entirely, and just glared at her husband.

“We should go and look around the site again,” Wayne suggested. “We can see how many men we can conceal in the trees, and where to put April where she can get a photo safely.”

“I want to see,” River announced.

“You can’t. You need to stay with Luv,” Alison said.

“Luv can come along,” Marilyn said. “I want to see as well. I haven’t been out of the house all day.”

The group went in four trucks. River, Luv and Marilyn were bundled in with Wayne, who drove slowly since he had a baby that was not in a car seat. The convoy went down the river to the spot where the tracks had been. But Wayne kept driving after the other three trucks stopped.

“Keep going, Wayne,” River had said. “I can feel something. They went past the mill, outside of the reserve, and crested a small rise. “Stop here,” River said with excitement in her voice. She got out of the truck after Marilyn, and walked to the low bank of the river, still carrying Luv. She reached out and put her hand into the water, pulling it back quickly from the cold. She stroked her hand over Luv’s face, and the baby gurgled in glee.

“It isn’t dead,” River announced. “It is still here. Weak, but still alive. It can’t warm the water for me, but it is talking to me. The voice is weak, but it is alive.” She handed the baby to Marilyn, who was amazed to get a smile from her daughter for the first time that day. River put her hands into the water several times, leaving them longer and longer each time. She finally filled a canteen with the river water, and stood.

“Come, let’s go back to the others,” she said, and Wayne drove them silently to the other three trucks, with River silently musing over what she had learned.

When they got out, the others looked questioningly at them. Ben was surprised when Marilyn handed Luv to him, and then smiled as the baby cuddled happily into his shoulder.

“We went further up the river,” River said. “When we got here I felt a trace, just a trickle, of something. We drove another few miles up, past the mill, and it got stronger. It was the River. It is not dead. Terribly wounded, but not dead. But another attack like last night’s could kill it entirely.”

“Much of the pollution is lighter than water, and floats to the top. It is what we saw this morning, and what has killed all the fish and animals. But that was only from the points downriver. Up there the water is still pure and cold. And the river spoke to me. It said there is a scar that cannot be healed. Some of the chemicals dumped are heavier than water, and flowed down into a slow spot, right about there.” She pointed into the middle of the river. “Those chemicals are sitting on the bottom there, continuing to pollute the river, and it is slowly killing the rest of the river.” We have to get them out.”

“How?” Nick said. “You haven’t met the fool from the MoE. If it isn’t in his book then he won’t be able to help. And to him, help is something that is months away.”

“We don’t have months,” River said. “I’d like to start today, right now. It is killing the river. But I guess it can wait until tomorrow. But we have to get started as soon as possible in the morning. And we have to make sure that no more filth goes into the river.”

“We have to catch them in the act,” Nick said. “If we just get them with the chemicals a sharp lawyer will say that they were just doing a test on how to empty barrels. Chemical has to hit the water for our case to be ironclad.”

There was a major argument between the two. Nick wanted evidence, and River wanted to protect the river from more damage. Finally they agreed that once the first drop of chemical hit the river the natives would pounce, minimizing the additional danger to the river.

There were several dozen good hiding places in the area, enough for 10 bowmen, River and Mark, Dale, Nick, April and two other photographers she was bringing from the high school to cover different angles. The cameras the students carried would have slave shutters triggered by the flash of April’s camera. When it flashed, theirs would as well. All they had to do is aim and focus.

One of the natives would have a CB radio, with the other end in a cabin with a phone. If the perps showed up, a call would be made to Const. Harper in Terrace Bay.

The plan was completed back at the Waters’ house over a supper that Alison grudgingly supplied, assisted by Helen and her daughters. Alison was still a bit stung by her children being allowed to participate in what she considered a dangerous operation. As various natives started coming in carrying bows and quivers full of arrows, her mood worsened. She had to feed all of them as well.

As she ladled stew onto Tall John George’s plate she looked him into the eye. “You make sure that nothing will happen to my kids. Keep Mark close to you. He is too young for all this.”

The gap-toothed man smiled at her. “Mark will be okay. He is good. A true warrior of the people. He is young, but the river has taught him much. Much more than I have. You shouldn’t worry.”

“I am a mother,” Alison snapped back. “Worrying is my job.”

At nine p.m. the men started to head out. Sunset was a half hour away, and they wanted to be well hidden before darkness fell. Luv was still in her good mood again, so River had no qualms in leaving her with Alison and Marilyn and joining the men. April and one of her students were also female, but the rest of them were like a war party. Trucks were taken to a cabin about two miles from the ambush point and left there, with the group walking the rest of the way on foot.

Todd O’Neall didn’t mind working the night shift. Last night they had started at midnight and were done just after 2 a.m., but got paid for the full eight hours. Tonight was going to take longer, since they needed to make three trips to the river. After the test last night went so well they decided to get rid of all the rest of the barrels tonight. Then they wouldn’t have to worry for another few weeks.

Sid had been a bit concerned about the effects of the chemicals on the river, but rationalized that it couldn’t get any more polluted. They would clear out the stock of chemicals and then claim innocence when the Ministry came calling. Apparently Sid had a plan to deal with them.

Todd was leading four of his buddies on this task. They had been high school mates of Sid back in high school in Hamilton. While Sid had gotten a job with a paper mill down there, the other four started to work for the mob, in the protection racket mostly.

Todd had been seen on a video camera torching a store that had refused to pay for protection, and had to lay low. Then he got the call from Sid. His old friend had been made manager of a plant somewhere up in the wilderness, and needed some muscle. Todd needed to get out of town anyway, so he gathered a few of the boys together and they drove up north of Lake Superior to the little town Sid worked at. They were hired on at the plant, replacing a few Indians that Sid claimed weren’t working out. But they really didn’t do much mill work. Mostly they did little jobs for Sid. Like the time that they beat up the guy who was making noises about a union.

They had tried a similar operation last winter on a young lawyer that was causing Sid problems. Twice they had gathered around his house in the early winter darkness, when the man normally came home. They planned on giving him a beating. But both times they found that wolves were also watching the house, and were chased back to their van down the street. The second time Gus had gotten bitten by one of the wolves. Luckily Sid called off the hit after that, although Gus needed nine stitches at the little joke of a hospital in the town.

Tonight things went quicker at the mill. The men were better at using the forklift to load the eight drums onto the truck. The fact that they had to do two more trips meant they also were hustling, and just before 1 a.m. they were driving away with all four men in the crew cab.

It was only ten minutes to the dump spot, just outside the mill. They had to drive slowly, since they didn’t want to spill any chemicals into the back of the truck. If they did, they would have to wash it. That stuff was nasty. Tonight clouds blocked off the moon, which had lit the way last night. But they were using the headlights on the truck as they drove, and there were several flashlight units to illuminate the disposal effort.

Todd backed the truck up to the river and set up the lights while the boys let down the tailgate and wrestled the first barrel off. They just started to tip it towards the river when all hell broke loose.

A shrill girl’s voice shouted stop, and then there were flashes from all over the place. Gus and Tommy let the barrel bounce back to its upright position, which caused some of the liquid in it to backsplash, getting the stuff all over them. They both started to scream bloody murder. Wolves suddenly appeared all over the place, and the boys were not fans of those beasts.

Todd reached into the pickup and grabbled the rifle in there. He pulled it out, and then suddenly heard several twangs. He looked down and saw that there were three arrows in his arm. Two went right through his hand and wrist and into the rifle stock, while another went into his upper arm. All he knew was that it hurt like hell. As he looked around he saw a horde of people surrounding them, almost all natives.

There was a woman taking pictures. She took shots of each of them, as well as shots of the truck: front license, loaded bed, tailgate down, even a shot of the mill logo on the truck door.

Another girl was tending to Gus and Tommy, wiping the chemicals off their faces with water from a canteen. The boys looked bad. The acid they were dumping was dangerous, and had eaten deeply into their faces. The water she was sponging on them seemed to lessen the pain, but there was going to have to be a lot of plastic surgery done on those faces to make them look human again.

Then the cops showed up. One car with two cops. A man and a pretty hot-looking blonde lady cop. They started looking around, and took the names of three natives, who then came along and painfully pulled their arrows out of his arm and the rifle. The cops took the rifle, and then the young girl who had been tending Tommy and Gus came over and dabbed some water onto Todd’s three wounds. The pain lessened immediately and the bleeding soon clotted.

Then a second OPP car appeared, with two more male officers. The four arrested the gang and bundled them off to the holding cells in Terrace Bay. One officer remained on site to secure the scene and conduct more interviews. Todd noted it was the cute blonde as he sat in the back of the squad car with a moaning Gus.

“Ben, can you drive Mark home?” River asked. “Mom is going to be going nuts. What time is it anyway?”

“It’s 4:30,” Nick said, looking at his phone.

“An hour until dawn. Or at least pre-dawn, when we will be able to see. Can someone call Kyle Audette and get him out here? Tell him I also need some barrels. Empty ones, maybe six for a start.”

“What are you planning to do, ma’am?” the officer asked.

“There are heavy metals from yesterday’s batch polluting the river, about over there,” River pointed. “They are causing serious damage to the environment, and I think we have a way to get them out.”

Const. Harper looked at the spot that River had indicated and decided that it was outside of her crime scene, so she didn’t argue the point.

“I don’t want to leave,” Mark whined.

“Mom needs someone with her,” River said patiently. “I’ve got to stay here, but your job is done. You are the Protector, and I am safe. You did your job. Now go and try to pry mother off of the walls I’m sure she has been climbing worrying about us.” Mark smiled at the mental image and then went off with Ben.

A few minutes later Kyle and George rolled up. They towed a trailer with an odd contraption on it, and there were six steel drums on the back of the truck. “We worked all night and got the modifications done, River,” Kyle said. “Is that what you wanted?”

It was Kyle’s golf ball retrieval machine which River had seen the first time she had been in their shop. Only they had replaced the wire net that scooped up golf balls with something halfway between the head of a spade and a bucket. It could pull up a half a cubic foot of silt from the river bottom.

“Let’s see if it works,” River said, and Kyle backed the unit up to the bank of the river. From there he extended the boom into the river and aimed it, under River’s guidance. The first three scoops to come out were just sand, but they were dumped into drums. The next one, though, hit pay dirt, and a scoop of foul-smelling material came up and went into the drums. River gasped. She could feel a tremor of relief coming from the river as the filth was removed.

For the next two hours they brought up scoop after scoop of material. At first there was about a 1:1 ratio of hits to misses, but then they improved. River could feel the river strengthening.

“Oh, oh, here comes trouble,” Nick said, and River could see a small car appear with a Ministry of Environment decal on the door.

“What is going on? What are you all doing?” Agent Westerbrook said, his eyes darting back and forth between the crime scene and the dredging operation.

Fortunately the female constable took charge and spoke with the agent first, explaining how the men had been caught in the early morning.

“Why wasn’t I informed?” the agent whined.

“The police were not even called until the men had been apprehended by the locals,” Const. Harper said.

“These people … can’t you do something to stop them from interfering? This is not the way an investigation is supposed to happen.”

“These people, as you call them, did us a great service last night. If it were not for them, the contents of these eight barrels would be in the river right now. And, according to one of the men, they were planning on bringing two more loads and dumping them. We have already charged the four who have done this and plan to deal with the company tomorrow … er, later today.”

“What are they doing over there?” Agent Westerbrook asked.

“I’m not sure, but I do need a chemical analysis of the contents of each of these eight drums. Can you provide that for us?”

“Yes, certainly, I have a kit in my car.”

River’s dredging operation gained over an hour during the time the agent was with the constable, and while he was taking his samples. During that time the river told her that she had removed just over half of the heavy metal contaminants, and that the river was no longer at risk. It could never heal completely until all the filth was gone, but at least there was little danger in the river completely dying.

“What are you doing? Do you have a dredging permit?” Westerbrook said when he finally got over to River.

“This is reserve land, and the reserve doesn’t need any permits,” River announced tersely. She hadn’t met the man before, but she had heard what the men had said about him yesterday.

“I’m not sure about that,” the agent said. Permits were always required, but the manual did say something about native lands being special situations. He would have to study the addendum to the manual to see what the rules were for native reserves. At any rate, these people were continuing to dredge.

“God, that smells awful,” the agent said as a particularly full scoop was dropped into a nearly full barrel.

“Yes, you might want to test that,” Wayne said. “It is some of the heavy metal pollution that was dropped last night.”

“What?” shouted the agent. “That is polluted material? You must stop now. This is part of my investigation. If we find heavy metal contaminants in the river, we will bring up dredging equipment from Toronto to clear the material. You have to stop now. The manual is clear on this.”

Const. Harper had been listening intently. “This manual you speak of. Is it a law, or just regulations and policies of your department?”

“Well, I don’t know. It is what I was trained to operate under.”

“Tell me, does it specify penalties? Mention whether or not crimes are summary conviction or indictable? Talk about jurisdiction?”

“It mentions jurisdiction,” the agent said. “It tells me what is within my jurisdiction, and what is not. Criminal matters are left for the police and the courts.”

“I see. In that case it sounds like your manual is a policy and procedures document, and therefore cannot be used to infringe on the rights of these people to dredge their river. You might want to call your office and get a clarification about that.”

“I will, immediately. This has to stop.” He fished out a cell phone and tried to dial. “There is no service out here,” he fumed. “I’ll have to call from town. Until I get back here, I don’t want to see any more dredging done.”

He hopped in his car and sped away. River had paused for a moment but then went back to directing Kyle in scooping out more filth.

“How is it that you know where to dredge,” the officer asked River as another scoop of evil-smelling material came up. River had to think fast.

“These boys have waded in the river all their lives,” she lied. She was one of the few people who could stand to be in the icy river, and she had never been in near here. “They knew there was a low area here, and it is natural that any pollutants would roll into it from that dumping area. The smell of that stuff tells us we are in the right place.”

“But you said a while ago that the stuff was half gone. And that the river was being healed. What did you mean by that?”

She was smart, River realized. She decided to come clean with her. But not right now. “It is complicated,” River said. “If you want to come out here in a month or so I can give you some background on our people. I will tell you the whole story then.”

“Okay,” Const. Harper said. “You say ‘our people’. Surely you are not First Nations?”

“Actually, I am partially Ojibwe,” River said. “Not enough for card status, but the band here have made me an elder at a very young age. I will explain it all to you if you come visit next month. I think the river will be ready for visitors by then.”

“I’ll be glad to come by,” Const. Harper said. “Where is your lawyer friend? And some of the others are missing too.”

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 41 – Retribution

So far: The river has not died, but is greatly wounded and River might still lose it. But a sting is set up to catch the polluters, and then Kyle and George Audette come to the rescue to help get it cleaned up. Our friend from the MoE makes another appearance, and really does little to help things.

Sid Oldman got to work more than an hour before the day shift started. He was a bit upset to see a forklift left out in the loading bay, along with a bunch of barrels that were supposed to be disposed of in the morning. Todd would be sleeping now, probably, but he would call him after lunch to find out why the guys hadn’t done everything they had been told to do.

Sid climbed the stairs to his office, which had a picture window that looked out over the plant. There were only eleven men working the night shift. There had been 24 when he got here, but he had managed to right-size the workforce down to a more manageable level. It did mean that maintenance work didn’t get done as quickly as it should, but Sid was hoping that he would only be spending another year or so here, and then move on to a bigger plant. The next manager could look after aging equipment and a worn out workforce.

Sid had slashed costs significantly at the plant. The previous manager had several expensive pieces of equipment on order, and Sid had postponed all the purchases, greatly improving his bottom line. Then there was the workforce reduction. There had been complaints in the fall when the workers were told they couldn’t use their holidays during hunting season, but when faced with the option of hunt and lose your job, versus defer your vacation and keep your job, everyone chose the latter.

Sid’s latest idea meant that he was able to defer the purchase of a new truck to take waste to Montreal for disposal. The river ran right past the plant, and provided a handy alternative to trucking the waste away. He felt content that a few hundred dollars into the hands of the MoE investigator who would come by would make sure that there would be no further complaints. He hadn’t spoken with any MoE people yet, but everyone has his price, Sid thought. Two hundred every two weeks was far less than the cost of a truck lease, and that doesn’t include the exorbitant disposal fees he would be saving. Every little bit helps. His district manager was extremely pleased at the numbers that Sid was sending in, and there were hints that he might even get identified as a ‘turnaround expert’ for the company.

His wife and son might not like that. They had fought against the move north last year, and if he got that kind of job it would mean moving every two or three years to a new plant. But it would keep Sid moving on the corporate ladder. His goal was no less than to become a vice-president of the company before he turned 50.

Sid spent the next two hours going over his accounts, looking for other areas of potential savings. He discovered that the warehouse was running low on toilet paper for the staff washrooms. After considering just ‘running out’ and letting the staff suffer or bring their own roll in, Sid decided to order a bulk purchase of a bargain roll. Single ply and somewhat rougher than the average sandpaper, it was half the cost of the paper the last manager had ordered.

“Mr. Oldman,” his intercom squawked. It was his secretary. “There are some men here to see you. And they have dogs … or wolves with them.”

“I’m not seeing anyone today,” he barked back. “Have Todd and the boys escort them to the gate.”

“Todd and his men are off this morning. He said he had worked a night shift last night.”

Damn, that’s right, Sid thought. He might have to deal with this. Just then the door to his office opened, and people started filing in.

Sid recognized several of them. There was that damned lawyer fellow, and three of the Indians he had let go last year. What was this all about? They got their damned severance, didn’t they? Sid decided to take the tough approach.

“What the hell are you all doing here? This is my office and I only meet people by appointment. And you don’t have an appointment, so get the hell out of here. Now.”

“I’m sorry sir,” the lawyer said. “But I’m afraid you are mistaken. This is no longer your office. And this plant is no longer your plant. In 1960 when the band leased this land to the mill, one of the stipulations was that the plant would have no negative impact on the environment. That is why the mill has such a tall chimney, with expensive environmental scrubbers on the output. That was agreed during the 1980s at the band’s insistence.”

“According to the lease agreement, if the plant willfully causes any pollution to the air, land, or water around the site, the lease will be terminated immediately, and all contents of the plant will become property of the band. Last night four of your men were arrested dumping chemicals into the river, the night following a similar dump of chemicals. As a result, the band is enforcing the agreement signed in 1960 and taking back ownership of the plant. You are the one who will leave.”

Two large wolves that Sid finally noticed in the room reinforced the lawyer’s words by growling. Sid was taken aback. The boys had been arrested. Todd wouldn’t blab, but the others? One of them might try to cop a plea. Sid thought fast.

“Those men were supposed to take those chemicals to Montreal for disposal. I know nothing about them dumping them into the river. That is horrible. But you can’t blame the plant for their misdeeds.”

“Indeed we can, Mr. Oldman,” the lawyer continued. “They were in a company truck and the chemicals will soon be proven to come from this facility. We have several men in your loading bay where similar barrels are stockpiled. Now, are you planning to leave peacefully?”

“Like hell I am,” Sid shouted, picking up the phone. “I’m calling the police.”

“Call away,” Nick said. “Be sure to mention that the First Nations reserve that the plant is located on have occupied the mill as a land-claims issue. I’m sure the police will find that interesting. You have two minutes to complete your call and get out.”

Sid got a desk sergeant at the Terrace Bay OPP and told his story, trying to put on the best possible spin. But after a few minutes, Nick grabbed the phone and started to talk to the sergeant, giving a slightly different, but entirely true explanation. Sid screamed as the others in the office started to drag him from the room, and escort him to the front door of the building. Sid tried to argue one last time as he stood next to his car, but the two wolves started growling and salivating, and he decided he preferred being inside the car. After two minutes, he drove off.

Nick hung up the phone after telling the OPP that only one officer would be needed at the mill, as there had been no violence. That was a relief to the sergeant, since he still had one officer at the site of the arrests the night before, and she would need to be relieved soon. Two other officers had taken two prisoners to the jail in Thunder Bay, and one other was at the Terrace Bay hospital, where two more prisoners were receiving treatment for chemical burns. That officer would have to accompany them when they were transferred to Thunder Bay or Sudbury, depending on what the local doctor decided.

Nick turned to the men still in the office. “Wayne, can you start going through these books and other records? I know you are still a student, but you have more business background than anyone else on the reserve. See if you can make head or tail of things. Don’t worry, we won’t make you plant manager. We will have to hire someone, assuming we get control of the mill.”

He then pointed to the three former workers from the plant. “You three are, as of this minute, back on payroll here. Go out into the plant and try to make yourselves useful. Let the men know that we hope to keep the plant operating, so it will be business as usual unless they are notified otherwise.” The three men left, and went down to the mill floor.

Nick spent nearly an hour with Wayne looking over the books. Nothing overtly illegal, like duplicate accounts, seemed to be present. After a few minutes he called the secretary up and she proved to be far more useful than he was, helping explain accounts and ledgers to Wayne. Eventually Nick edged out of the office.

To his surprise, as he was walking down the stairs there was a massive cheer from the men working on their machines. Apparently the past manager was not well-loved by the workforce.

At the mill entrance, Nick found an OPP cruiser had just pulled up with a single officer inside. Nick went over and explained the situation to the officer, showed him copies of the lease agreement, and over the next hour managed to convince the man that no crimes had been committed, just a change in ownership of the plant.

That is when the media started to show up. There were several newspaper and radio people from Thunder Bay, followed by the first television truck. Word had gotten out that First Nations people had taken over a paper mill, and this was apparently big news. Nick was interviewed over and over, pretty much telling the same story he had told the police.

It was nearing noon when River and Kyle were cleaning up the last of the heavy contaminants from the river bottom when the MoE car got out. This time there were two men in it. One was Agent Westerbrook, the other was a taller man in an expensive-looking suit.

“See, they are still doing it,” Westerbrook told the other as they approached.

“Hello,” the taller man said. “My name is Ernest Whitecliffe, supervisor of the Thunder Bay office of the Ministry of the Environment. Can you let me know what you are doing?”

“Yes,” River said curtly. She had now been awake for nearly 24 hours, and without the river being able to refresh her, was exhausted and hungry. Liesl had brought the crew sandwiches before she left for school in the morning, but they were almost finished: now this pair showed up. “We are cleaning the heavy metal contaminants out of the river. There is a low spot here, and we are now getting the last trace elements.”

“What kind of device is that?” Whitecliffe asked. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Is it working?”

“We have pulled up nearly six barrels of material,” River explained. “Right now we are only getting about a teaspoon of contaminants per scoop, which is about a half a cubic foot. But that barrel, the second one we brought up, was much more concentrated.”

The manager leaned over and got a whiff of the barrel, and then stepped back quickly. “Did you get a sample of that?” he asked Westerbrook.”

“Yes sir. I also told them to stop messing with the site until we could get the proper equipment up here. They seem to have ignored me.”

“Why would you do that? One of our dredges wouldn’t be half as effective as this unit is, and it will be months before one is available, unless we pull it from another job. These people need their water back now, not in the fall.” He turned to River. “How much would it cost for one of these machines? The department could make use of this for smaller jobs rather than waiting for the big units.”

“They cost $150,000 each,” River said, making the number up. The shocked look on Kyle’s face told her that the number was several magnitudes higher than he would have said. He had about to offer a far lower price when the manager spoke, before River gave her price.

“Is that all? Our big units cost several million. We could buy four or six of these and scatter them at locations around the province.”

Kyle got a big smile on his face. Six units? Nearly a million dollars of government money? “Where to now, River?” he asked as he prepared to take another scoop.

“I think we have it all,” River said. “We can wrap up and head for lunch.” She turned to Whitecliffe. “Will your people want to take care of these barrels?”

“Definitely. Westerbrook will look after it. And I want samples of the river bottom in this site,” the man told his assistant. “You know, the usual pattern. I want these people to be confident that their water is clean.”

“Yes sir. The usual pattern. It is in the manual.”

River smiled. She couldn’t say it to them, nor would they believe it, but she knew that every last drop of contaminant had been removed. The river had told her so a minute earlier. The river was now clean enough that she could wade into it. The lighter oils had gone out to the lake. There was still some clinging to the vegetation on the banks, but the next rainfall would get rid of that.

Kyle packed up his unit, with the MoE man watching in amazement as he folded it up compactly on the small trailer behind his pickup, and drove off, taking River and dropping her off at her house. Arriving at home, River made herself a sandwich, and then curled up in her bed, quickly falling asleep. The river had warned her that she shouldn’t go into the water until after a rainfall.

She woke just before supper. Mark was back from school, and Dale from his work at the construction site for Jenny’s Place II. Even Alison had spent the morning at the credit union. It was closed, like most of the businesses downtown, due to no water, but she had done some paperwork. The gas station was open, although not the restaurant. A semi-truck had come in from Thunder Bay, filled with bottled water, which was being distributed free of charge to the local residents.

What made River happiest, even beyond the lovely smells of Alison’s dinner cooking, was the sound of rain. A hard rain was pelting down, and it had been going for over an hour now. Another hour and the riverbanks would be cleared. That would all be gone by midnight, so River could visit the river the next morning.

River had trouble getting up at 2 a.m. She was not used to feeling tired, like she had for so much of the last few days. She let Mark sleep. He could reunite with the river tomorrow. She went out the back of the house and down to the water. She stuck a toe in, and for a second it was cold, but then slowly warmed. It was not as quick as in the past, but she immediately felt refreshed.

It is safe, the river said. I am still weak, but getting stronger by the minute. I won’t be able to keep your clothes dry today, and you shouldn’t try sitting on the bottom. Maybe tomorrow. Thank you for all you have done for me.

“Thank you for all you have done for me. For us,” River replied. “You have supported and nourished the people and the land for hundreds of years. We can never do enough to balance that.”

River had to leave after just an hour, instead of the four or five hours she normally spent in the water. It was taking too much out of the river to keep her warm. She got out and headed back to the house in her dripping outfit. Luckily it was early summer, and not too cold. In the house she changed into dry things, and tried to plan her day. There would be no school today. River knew that the water was pure again, and planned to get the word out to the people along the river that they could open their systems up again. While the town water plant would be closed until the MoE people got clear results from their tests, ‘according to the manual’, the people living in the reserve had private systems. Those close to the water had direct pipelines in. Those further back had communal systems that might service as many as 20 houses and cabins. Sewage was handled by septic tank systems, and the band was strict about ensuring that these worked and didn’t contaminate the river water that everyone drank from.

Wayne showed up at about 7, stopping in when he saw lights on at the Waters house. He was headed to the mill, where he was trying to decipher the accounts and processes needed to keep it operating during the ‘occupation’. He filled River in on what had happened there while she was busy cleaning the river. She decided to go down herself and see.

When they got there, it was chaotic. There were now five television trailers there, and a band of reporters just outside the gate. A First Nations occupation of an operating business was apparently big news -- especially when they were keeping it running. The two native men manning the gates were armed with bow and arrows only, and this meant that the OPP, who now had five cruisers standing by, were less concerned.

Wayne and River were allowed to drive through, upsetting the horde of reporters who missed their chance to get quotes, or do anything to justify their presence. Inside the plant a tired looking Nick smiled when he saw River had come.

“We have visitors coming soon,” he said. “I’ve managed to get a few hours of sleep in on a cot in the back, but I really need to get a clean suit. I just don’t want to have to face that horde out there right now. It would take me an hour to get through.”

“Call Dad,” River suggested. “He can go over to Marilyn’s and she can pick out something clean for you to wear. I don’t know about a shower though.”

“No problem,” Nick said. “There is a shower in the men’s washroom. I guess occasionally the workers need it, although I have heard that Oldman had banned them from using it during his stay here. But now that we have almost returned to the old staffing levels, men who get dirty can shower and change, instead of having to man their machines in filthy clothes.”

“When is the next shift coming in?” River asked. “Will they be able to get past those people at the gates?”

“Good point,” Nick said. “They will start coming in soon. Maybe we should go out there and provide an update. That way, reporters won’t bother the men and we won’t have bad information going out. I guess I can do it in this suit.”

Dale arrived at about the same time as the men did, while River and Nick provided an update to the reporters. River was a novelty, a young blonde girl who Nick introduced as a tribal elder. She updated the media on what had happened in the second dumping, which they had already heard from Nick, and then told about the cleanup operations, which was news to the reporters. They spent nearly a half hour doing the update, and then headed back into the mill while the reporters filed their reports and began their speculation.

While Nick showered and changed, River watched the coverage on the 24-hour CBC news station, which was doing live broadcasts from the gate and other related stories. The leader of the federal opposition party was decrying the ‘occupation.’ He made it sound as though the First Nations were creating an uprising, and claimed that the government were cowards, letting two men armed with bows and arrows keep 10 armed police officers at bay.

The local member of parliament was there as well. He was a member of the left-leaning New Democratic Party. They considered themselves friends to the First Nations, and friends to workers and labor. Thus they would tend to support a worker-led occupation of the plant. But they were in minority opposition, and thus didn’t want to support any government action on the situation.

Another complication was that while First Nations affairs were the responsibility of the federal government, policing and public safety was the responsibility of the provincial government. This included the OPP. The federal police, the RCMP, had a limited role in Ontario, so were not present at the mill.

Finally the prime minister made a statement. He noted that the First Nations peoples owned the land the mill sat on, and that their lease included the provision that if the plant ever polluted the area, the mill would become the property of the band. He said that the courts would have to decide on the legitimacy of such a claim, and there was no point in escalating the issue.

About 11 a.m. there was another mob scene at the gate. Apparently officials from Weiserhakken Inc., the former owners of the mill, had arrived in three limousines. They were allowed into the gate, and soon entered the mill.

Nick, now clean and besuited, welcomed them into the small boardroom at the mill. The Ojibwe were represented by the elected chief, River as an elder, and Nick as counsel. The company president was there, as well as two vice presidents, and the man who had been Oldman’s supervisor. There was no more space in the room, so another five men from the company were escorted back to their cars. Nick did not want them roaming around the plant.

Nick introduced the Ojibwe contingent, and the supervisor introduced his bosses.

“You know, this foolishness has to stop now,” Peter Cornish, president of the company said. “People have died in other confrontations of this type.”

“Did you see any Ojibwe out there threatening you or any other people?” Nick countered.

“That is completely beyond the point,” Cornish said. “This is our plant, and we intend to take it back. We are filing an injunction at this moment to have control of the plant returned to us.”

“I am aware of that,” Nick said. “We have representation at that hearing, and they will present this document to the judge.” He passed over a photocopy of the original lease agreement. “You will note on page three, third paragraph: Any actions by the lessee that cause environmental damage to the environs of the plant, in the sole opinion of the lessor, will result in the immediate cancellation of the lease, and ownership of the land and all real property on it will immediately become property of the lessor. The lessee will compensate the lessor for any costs involved in returning the land to its original condition.”

The men from the company looked glum as they read the lease.

“We also will be presenting these to that judge,” Nick said, handing over a dozen 8x10 photos. “These show men from this mill, in a truck with the Wieserhakken logo on the side, starting to dump pollutants into the river that runs through this property, the rest of the Ojibwe reserve, and the town of St. Mary’s, which remains on a pollution alert, with residents required to drink only bottled water.”

“What we will not have in time for that hearing are the reports from the Ministry of the Environment specifying what chemicals were being dumped. However, two of your men were splashed in the dumping operation, and the acid involved resulted in extensive burning to their faces. Both are in the hospital in Sudbury at this moment, under police escort.”

Cornish sputtered a bit, and tried to bluster his way on. “Nevertheless property rights in this country are sacrosanct. At best you will retain your land and have an empty plant. You will throw 110 men out of work. Is that your goal?”

“Not at all. And the numbers of men working in the plant were down to under 70 at the time of the incident. The plant is operating right now. We will have a full train of pulp cars ready on Friday, I understand. It is our intention to keep running the plant as an Ojibwe-owned enterprise.”

Cornish laughed aloud, and several of his men joined him. “You don’t have the expertise to run a mill, and your don’t have the equipment. We will remove that before we vacate. And you don’t have the customer base. Who are you going to see all that pulp too?”

“Normally it goes to the Wieserhakken paper mill in Sault Ste. Marie,” Nick said. “Do you have another source for pulp for that mill? Or will it close down if this plant can’t supply it?”

“We could move supplies around from other mills,” Cornish said.

“Business 101. You don’t operate more plants than necessary. Running other mills at a lower capacity to keep that one open doesn’t make sense. How long would it be before that mill closes? It is you, not us, who will be throwing people out of work. And I read in your latest annual report that Wieserhakken in seeing significant growth in the toilet paper and tissue markets. Those are the markets we supply pulp for. Will you forego that increased growth because you can’t deliver enough paper? What will shareholders at the next annual meeting say about that? What will your board say at the next board meeting?”

River took over. “Mr. Cornish, you have a decision to make. There are a lot of media folks out there waiting for a report on what we are talking about in here. You can go out there and announce that your billion-dollar company is going to fight this tiny First Nations band in an attempt to wring out the last possible dollar. Isn’t that going to be a public relations disaster that will have your competitors wringing their hands in glee?”

“Or you can walk out and announce that due to a rogue employee, Wieserhakken has had to turn control of the plant over to the Ojibwe. You can announce regret for poisoning the water of the band and the town, and point out that your company has utmost support for the environment. You can announce that Wieserhakken has reached an agreement with the band, and plans to keep the plant open as an independent partner of the company, supplying your mill in Sault, and continuing to provide the country with the same fine products that they always have. Which message will you give?”

Cornish paused for a long time before replying. “Can we talk this over amongst ourselves? Bring in our other support people?”

The company reps in the cars were brought into the meeting room, and for an hour there was a discussion. Finally Mr. Cornish came to the door, and sent his support people back to the cars. The Ojibwe were invited back, and the company caved entirely. A communiqué was drafted, using much of the language that River has used in presenting the second option. Then Nick insisted upon a short agreement on prices and costs. The company agreed to pay the mill the same amount that they had paid in internal transfers for the next two years. He also got them to agree to transfer a million dollars to the mill to compensate for the deferred equipment purchases that Oldman had cancelled, but were direly needed. There were objections to this, but the company realized that it would cost far more to liquidate the plant, restore the land, and lay off all the Sault workers.

It was nearly four o’clock when River and Mr. Cornish approached the media and made the announcement that the ‘occupation’ was over, and an agreement was made that was highly satisfactory to both sides. It took nearly an hour for the questions to start to get repetitive, and at that point Nick announced that tours of the plant would be offered to the media. Mr. Cornish remained for that, and was able to get his smiling face onto all the Canadian television networks, often seen shaking hands with the pretty little Ojibwe elder.

“Is that your plant, honey?” Donna Turnbell said from her bed. Her husband Ken turned to look and froze. “Yes it is, sweetness. That is the St. Mary’s mill. What is happening?”

“Something about the Indians taking over the mill,” she said. They watched the rest of the clip, and when the announcer moved on to another story Donna sighed. “I miss St. Mary’s. I want to go back.”

“You know that we had to come down here to Thunder Bay,” Ken said. “There is no cancer treatment available up there, and a two-plus hour drive, each way, was too much to handle.”

“I know you loved your job up there at that plant,” Donna said.

“I love you more, honey,” Ken replied.

“Well, the treatments didn’t work, did they?” Donna said. “I’d like to go back to St. Mary’s at least once before I die. Please take me there.”

The doctors said no, that the trip would tax her frail body too much, but Donna was adamant they visit. Ken couldn’t say no to his wife of 30 years’ last wish, and called his old friend Nelson Churchill, asking if he could put them up for a week or two. Nelson immediately agreed, even offering to come down and get them. Ken waived that offer away. He could drive the trip, planning on taking three hours instead of rushing it. Two days later, without medical permission, the pair got into Ken’s car and headed east towards St. Mary’s.

When they arrived at Nelson’s house they were surprised to see Connie there as well. Connie had been a great friend of Donna’s and the Turnbells were upset when the couple split.

“It is so good to see the two of you back together,” Donna gushed as she got out of the car. She put her hand on Connie’s ample baby bump. “I didn’t think this was possible for you.”

“It was a minor miracle,” Connie said. She was astounded at how much her old friend had deteriorated over the past year. The cancer had made her look 80 instead of 52. Connie looked at Nelson, and he mouthed the word ‘River.’ Connie nodded.

“I know you just got over a long drive,” Connie said. “But we think we need to take you to see someone special. It will just be a few more minutes, and you and I can sit in the back and chat while the boys sit in the front.”

Donna was confused, and Ken was more than a little upset that his friends were making a tired Donna expend more energy, but they agreed and drove onto the reservation.

River was in the water when Ken pulled up at the meeting place. The river was still weak, only two weeks after the incident, but with the heavy contaminants gone it was continually gaining strength. It had told her to stay a bit longer, since there was someone coming. She waded to the bank and waited while Connie and Nelson helped a frail looking woman out of the car. She nearly had to be carried, while her angry looking husband stood behind.

When the woman was close enough, River reached out and grasped her bony hand. Immediately energy fed into the woman, and she straightened up a bit, eyes going wide. “That feels so good, dear. What is it?”

“That is our river,” River said. “Come. It will make you feel better.”

As River helped Donna into the water, Ken was astonished to see how well his wife was moving. It was like three or four months ago. He moved to the river, and took River’s other hand.

“It works best with both of you,” River said, as she led the two of them out into the river. “This is the scary part. We are going to sit down in the water.”

Donna felt blissed out by the sudden lack of pain in her body, and quickly dropped into the water with River. Ken just looked on in shock. The river was clear again, and he could see down at River and his wife on the sand bottom, apparently fine. He took a breath and dropped down to be with them.

It took several hours before River had them all stand up. “It shouldn’t take that long,” she said. “But the river was attacked two weeks ago, and is still weak. But I think you will find that your cancer is gone now.

“I feel wonderful,” Donna said as she waded unassisted to the shore. Ken also looked 10 years younger, but that was because caring for his wife, and watching her slowly die had prematurely aged him. He was now back to himself.

Connie and Nelson had waited on the bank, and were ecstatic to see that the river had again cured good people. The four waved to River, and then drove off to the Churchill home where Donna had to argue that she did NOT need to take a nap, but instead the four played cards like they had in the old days before Connie and Nelson had split up.

Two days later Nick came to visit and offered Ken his old job back. Wayne was still working at the plant, doing schedules and what he could, but it needed a real manager.

The mill was now in Ojibwe hands, and Nick could not offer a salary as large as Ken had been getting from Weiserhakken Paper, but the band agreed to offer the fourth of the five big homes as a part of the package. Ken had gotten a low price in selling his local home last year to take Donna to Thunder Bay, and rent there had eaten into his savings, so the offer of a luxury home convinced him to take the job he had once loved. And when Donna saw the massive stone fireplace and cathedral ceiling of the home, she was immediately in love with it. The pair never did return to Thunder Bay, sending RedBear Cartage to pick up their meager furnishing and return them to the new big house.

The first day that Ken arrived at the plant he found all three shifts present. A few men had to be manning the machines, but the rest lined up and cheered as he entered, and he had to shake hands with every man in the plant before he was again cheered as he climbed the steps to the manager’s office. He had agreed to keep Wayne on staff for the rest of the summer, helping clear up some of the messes that Oldman had left. Wayne noted that he was learning more at the mill each week than he learned at school in a term.

River

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 42 – Conclusion

So far: The mill has changed hands, and a media frenzy waited for the First Nations occupation to erupt into violence, which never occurred. Nick and River negotiate a settlement, and a new couple return to St. Mary’s.

A day after returning to work after her activities on the river, Const. Sandra Harper was passed by a black Mercedes travelling well in excess of the posted 110 kph speed in the opposite direction. Her radar gun recorded the speed at 140, and the offender was slowing down as soon as the driver had seen her squad car.

The constable pulled off on a lane, turned around, and then sped off in pursuit. She managed to get up to 180, hoping to catch up to the speeding car, but didn’t for nearly 40 kilometers. She was now outside of her patrol area, and was about to reduce to a safer speed when she saw the car ahead of her as she went around a bend. She hit the roof lights.

For a minute it seemed that the other car was going to run for it. It actually picked up speed, and when the radar tracking caught it, it registered 180, the same speed as the constable. She considered 180 to be the limits of what she felt safe in with the cruiser, but still increased speed to 190. She had been trained in high speed pursuits.

They were on one of the few long, straight stretches of the Trans-Canada Highway above the lake, and in the far distance Const. Harper saw a semi-truck was using the chance to pass a slower semi. As the highway was only two lanes, this meant disaster for the speeding cars. The trucks would pass safely if oncoming traffic were only doing 110 km/h, the speed limit. But at 180 disaster loomed.

Const. Harper immediately started to decelerate sharply. Then the driver of the Mercedes must have stopped looking in his rear view mirror and saw the impending disaster, as both semis started blowing their air-horns. The passing truck hit the brakes while the other one speeded up in hopes that they could avoid a collision.

The Mercedes started to brake hard, and slowed down rapidly. Unfortunately, the driver was having trouble keeping control of the car. In this wooded area the roads didn’t have deep ditches, but leaving the road surface at speed meant an unwelcome meeting with a tree.

The passing semi managed to pull back in behind the other load at the last second, and the two truck drivers watched the terrified driver pass by them. The rear trucker was less than a foot in behind the front one, although he was much slower and the gap quickly grew to a less scary one.

Then the cruiser sped past, with Const. Harper in full control of her vehicle. She came across the Mercedes less than a minute later. The driver had stopped and pulled over to the shoulder, and was slumped over the wheel.

The officer pulled in behind, leaving her flashers on, and with the car slightly onto the road to prevent her from being struck by another vehicle as she talked to the driver.

She approached the car, and tapped on the window. The ashen-faced driver started, then looked up dumbly at her for a moment, then lowered the window.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Const. Harper shouted at him. “You could have killed yourself. You could have killed or injured one or both of those drivers. You could have killed me. Why were you running?”

The man just stared out the front window. “I thought I could get away. This car can outrun a cruiser. If those trucks weren’t there …”

“Oh, so you make a habit of running from the police? License, registration and insurance please.”

Const. Harper took the paperwork back to her cruiser to run the information. She didn’t need the computer to identify the driver. Sidney Wilson Oldman of Terrace Bay. This was the man who was running the St. Mary’s mill before the natives took possession. He had a half dozen warrants outstanding against him related to environmental issues. And now she could add dangerous driving, failing to stop for a police officer and a few other traffic charges to that list.

Const. Harper called for a tow truck to pick up the Mercedes and went forward to arrest Oldman. He wore handcuffs back to Terrace Bay and the station. His former employees had already been transferred to Thunder Bay for trial, and he was to follow closely behind.

In Canada, justice moves slowly, and it was over a year before the trial was completed, and Oldman was sentenced to five years in prison. When River heard the sentence she was upset. You kill a man and get life, but kill a goddess and get five years? The river had to calm her, saying that he would pay for his mistakes for a much longer time.

Oldman only served a bit over two years in jail before being granted parole for good behavior. His wife had divorced him during the trial, so Sid moved back to Hamilton. He found that being a parolee was not conducive to getting a good job. The paper mill he had worked at as a teen pretty much told him that he wasn’t likely to get a job in any kind of manufacturing plant with his record of environmental crime.

After two years on welfare, Sid was finally willing to work for the mob, something he had resisted years before when his friends had joined up. But even they didn’t want him. They had no interest in someone visiting a parole officer weekly.

Eventually Sid got work. At minimum wage. He was the collector on a garbage truck for the city, which had a program to help first offenders get rehabilitated. But this really wasn’t a first-step job. It was a job Sid would work at until he retired on a meager government pension in 26 years. There wasn’t even much chance of promotion. In 12 years he was moved up to driver of the truck. It was a 25 cents an hour raise, ten bucks a week, but at least he no longer had to dump the smelly trash cans.

It was then, that the river told an older and wiser River what Oldman’s real punishment had been. For polluting the river with filth, he was forced to spend the latter part of his life dealing with trash, and going home each night needing to shower to get the lingering smell of garbage off him.

Back at the reserve the aftermath of the problems were varied. It took three weeks before the Ministry of the Environment opened the St. Mary’s water system again. Free bottled water was available during that time, but residents started to complain about not being able to shower. The laundromat in Terrace Bay made a fortune that summer, with residents from St. Mary’s coming to wash clothes. The MoE brought in huge trucks of water, and hooked them up to the high school, so that it could reopen, and also to allow residents to at least shower in the gym changing rooms. This went on for several weeks, until the water system was opened. Even then there was a boil-water advisory for the following two weeks.

The people on the reserve were using their local systems as soon as River had announced that the water was safe. Those with friends in town spent a lot of time visiting their friends who came to bathe and wash clothes.

The mission that Rod and the girls were undertaken had continued through the winter and spring, with the exception of the week when the river had been polluted. They had visited most of the reserves within 200 miles, and as a result the high school had hundreds of ‘intent to attend’ slips from students who wanted to attend the school near the river.

The principal was in a quandary. He was looking at five additional classes for the grade nine intake, two more for the grade 10s, and two more classes for students wanting to transfer in for the final two years. He made a pitch for an addition that would more than double the size of the school, but of course that went nowhere. Instead the board approved the installation of eight portable classrooms, including one double unit that would be used as a library, allowing the old library to be made into a classroom.

Desks for the students were only a part of the problem. There also needed to be teachers to fill them. The two new teachers who had been hired the past year now had experience, and as a result they moved to schools in the south. This could mean another 10 teachers coming to the school right out of teacher’s college, taking the job only long enough to move into a position nearer their home base when they could get one.

River came up with the solution. With the permission and support of the band, the school held a series of free summer camps for teachers in the Toronto school boards. Any teacher with five or more years of experience was entitled to come to the park and camp for a week, at no cost. Teachers love a bargain, so dozens and dozens applied, and for five weeks 20 families a week came to the park.

The result was that teachers interested in the outdoors got a taste of the Lake Superior beauty and wilderness. Hunting was off season, but nature walks by River made sure that the teachers saw the deer, moose, and bear in the area. Fishing was allowed, although only as catch-and-release until the stocks built up after the disaster with the mill.

The result was that out of 100 visitors, 14 applied to teach at the school. The principal was ecstatic, having only hoped for five or six experienced teachers. He turned to River to get her advice about who to select, since she had spent much of the summer running the camp and knew all the campers personally.

River (on the advice given by the river) knew that the one thing that could pull the outdoorsy teachers back to Toronto would be a bored and dissatisfied spouse. In three cases, this would be unlikely, because both partners were teachers, and both had applied. One of them had the wife teaching primary school, and the principal knew that he could make sure she was hired by the middle school in Terrace Bay.

That gave the principal five names. For the other five River selected ones whose spouse had careers or interests that would complement the needs of the town. One was a real estate agent, who could open a real estate office in the town. Another was a newspaper reporter who was thrilled when River suggested she start a local weekly newspaper for the town. A third woman wanted to start a bakery, and after River pointed out that the business would be slow during the winter, still was interested. Another two were Early Childhood educators and wanted to start a daycare center in the community.

The result was that as well as finding teachers for the school, River managed to find four more businesses or services for the town, filling in most of the vacant storefronts and leaving St. Mary’s looking like a vibrant, thriving community instead of the near ghost town it had seemed a year earlier.

Mark and three of the older boys in the Junior Warriors developed their own summer job. The older boys, all 16 or 17, had learned that Mark had the ability to draw wildlife close to their camps and canoes when they had been out with Tall John. One of the boys was clever enough to see that this held potential for a summer job, and brought in his older brother and a friend.

The idea was to give nature trips by canoe down the river. The boys would load four canoes onto pickups, and take 8 people several miles upriver. For $10 a person, the boys would paddle the four canoes downriver, with Mark ensuring that they saw the beavers and otters who were repopulating the river, as well as deer, moose, bears and other animals along the banks.

The trip took just over an hour, and the boys were able to easily run four or five every day. They worked six days a week, and because Ben Stormcloud had donated the use of his canoes, they had few expenses. Each boy made over $400 a week, good money for teenagers and excellent for an 11-year-old like Mark. Of course, his mother made him put $350 of that into a savings account at the credit union, but even $50 a week make Mark feel like a millionaire.

The big thing was that the trips started to grow through word of mouth, and by the end of August the boys were doing 10 during the long summer days, and 12 on weekends. This meant that up to 100 people were coming to the river as a destination, and not just as a place to drive though going somewhere else. The park did a booming business, with many of the visitors camping for a few days before and after their canoe trip. So many in fact, that the camp office started coordinating and scheduling the trips for the boys, just to get a chance to add in a camping stay.

Wayne spent the summer working at the mill. He learned more about business working for Ken Turnbell than he had in his first two years at university. He was asked to stay on at the end of August, but after talking it over with his sponsor, Gordon Millet, he decided that he should return to London for the final two years in his B.Admin. program, and the one or two in his MBA.

When he did get back to college, he learned that he could start taking MBA courses as a non-program student, and opted to take one per term. His experience from the summer, coupled with the glowing recommendation given by Ken, allowed him to get into the courses, which he aced, using his work experience. The result was that he would be able to complete his full MBA in one year after getting his undergraduate degree.

The Junior Ranger program that Wayne had been slated to manage continued, with another group of kids from St. Mary’s taking the positions. One of the other rangers took over Wayne’s duties, and she did quite well keeping her charges busy though the summer.

Dale was busy as well. His construction business was growing. They were building eight houses in the new subdivision. These were not so grand as the five big ones that had been built, but with new teachers coming into the area all the homes would quickly be filled. In fact, the band was considering another five large homes, since most of the teachers coming from Toronto would have substantial equity from the sale of their Toronto homes, and could afford the luxury homes in the north.

Ginny’s House II was built over the summer, with a grand opening in early September, with all the new students marveling at the great facility that had been built for them and the reserve students. There was a secondary benefit for Dale’s company. The experience in building the facility qualified them to bid on the new high school, which everyone assumed was only a year or two down the road. Dale now had a workforce of 30 natives working on the various projects, and an additional five apprentices learning building trades.

Most of the experienced men on the crew were busy during the summer doing separate projects in their spare time. With all the students coming to the high school, there was demand for additional bedrooms being built onto reserve houses. Across the reserve there were a significant number of families that looked at the fees they got for boarding students as a boost to their income.

Rod’s mission continued as planned over the next few years. They visited nearly 100 reserves a year, on an annual basis. The end of their mission actually had its genesis two years after the plant takeover, but took two more years to come into effect. It started when the group was visiting a Cree reserve to the west of St. Mary’s and a Ministry of Indigenous Affairs case worker was offended that the word Ojibwe was on the side of the RV.

The said worker then researched the program, and found that it was not affiliated in any way with the Ministry, and complained up the chain of command. Studies were conducted, and papers written and reviewed, and it was finally decided that the mission was a ‘good thing.’ However the federal ministry could not have a ‘good thing’ servicing only one small part of the country. The mission would have to become national, and cover the entire country.

At first River, Rod, and the girls were thrilled to see the government take an interest in their program. They knew it was working. There had only been a few teen suicides in the area over the years they had operated, and the elders of all the reserves were glad to have help in keeping their young people active and alive. The river had taught Cree to Rod and the girls, with a special Cree history and Cree songs that were used in those reserves. The costs of the program had started to be a strain on the reserve, and having the federal government fund it would be a boost.

Things seldom work out for the best when the government is involved. When the program was announced, it was decided that there would need to be 100 teams of five counselors to cover the entire country. Each team would consist of five persons who held an MBA or higher Psychology degree. There were also another 130 people providing support services from Ottawa, including a deputy minister to run the department.

However when the counselors were hired, there were only nine First Nations people who were qualified across the country, with most of the positions filled by white people who had no experience on reserves, and no knowledge of native languages. Instead three interpreters were hired for each of the 100 teams.

The idea of RVs was picked up, but 200 had to be purchased, since some committee in Ottawa was offended by the idea that the two sexes should sleep in the same RV. Also, while therapy wolves were integral to Rod’s mission, they were not possible across the country. Instead therapy dogs were put into the program. Unfortunately the dogs chosen by the counselors were not always apt. Somehow having a Bichon Frise or poodle appearing at a northern reserve did not have the same effect as a wolf had.

When the counselors were hired, more than half had Ph.Ds, and most of the others were working towards them. This led to the inexplicable decision to locate the regional offices in large cities that had universities with post-graduate psychology departments. The team for Northern Ontario, for example, was located in downtown Toronto. The workload for these people was set at one reserve visit per month, unless the counselors were involved in research projects. Most teams quickly picked up research projects, and as a result two years after the start of the program the average team was only visiting three to four reserves a year, with the counselors spending the rest of their time writing reports and doing research.

Then the kicker came in. When Rod and the girls applied to join the program that they had established, they were denied even the chance to interview for positions as counselors, since they didn’t have even undergraduate degrees. They were offered positions as translators, but to take them they would have to move to Toronto or Winnipeg. None of the St. Mary’s team wanted to live in a big city, so none applied.

The RV was pretty much shot, although Rod’s mechanical abilities had managed to keep it on the road for so many years, so the mission finally ended when the government program started. The various girls married and had kids, including Rod and Ria.

After two years of government inaction, with St. Mary’s on the list to receive its first visit from the counselors in three years, the river asked River to call a meeting of the original team. Apparently the lack of attention in the area was resulting in stress for young people growing, and the river worried that suicides might start to happen again. The government program, besides not covering the reserves frequently enough, did not click with the young people. The young First Nations kids could not relate to doctoral counselors from the city that only spent a few days a year visiting reserves. As well, without the mission going to the reserves, attendance at the new 600-student high school was starting to edge down.

It was decided to restart the mission. Gordon and Donna Millet donated a brand new RV, and the mill agreed to fund modest salaries for Rod and the girls. They started making the same two trips a week as before, and things were good again.

Until the government program happened to make one of its visits at the same time as the Ojibwe mission. The government counselors watched as the young people of the reserve all gravitated to the Ojibwe group, with its therapy wolf, and counselors who spoke their language, knew their songs, and knew the life that these young people were living.

The government response was as might be expected. They sued. An injunction was obtained banning Rod’s group from offering counseling services without certified counselors. Nick fought the injunction, but the court decided to ban the service until a court case, which would be two or three years away.

This only stopped the mission for a week. Nick came up with a statement for Rod to read at each stop at a reserve. It basically said that the mission was a goodwill visit from the Ojibwe to the remote reserve, and that the people visiting were just guests and entertainers, not certified counselors. That said, they were willing to chat with any teens that might be having problems coping. As friends, not counselors.

This infuriated the ministry, who called for another injunction. At that hearing Nick tore them apart, pointing out that in Canada there were no laws preventing friends from meeting one another. With the mission not claiming to offer counseling services, the government injunction was denied. As well, Nick noted that the government department was using statistics showing a decline in teen suicides in reserves across Canada as being down three per cent since their program started. He noted that most of the reduction had been in the northern area the mission served, and when that area was taken out, there was no decline at all. This seemed to demonstrate that the expensive program was a failure.

The full case never went to trial. The deputy minister decided to let the mission continue, since it was benefitting him in terms of the results he could show and he really didn’t want the media looking into its effectiveness. The reserve continued its mission, and the river was happy to see its people thriving again.

River cuddled up next to Wayne in his pickup. It was a rather dilapidated one, now that he was no longer driving the new JR truck. River didn’t care. Wayne was working crazy hours at the mill, and would be leaving to school again in a few weeks. But they managed to find time just to be together, always mindful of the river’s restriction about contact.

River could finally understand why Edith Freedove had given up the river for marriage and a family. At that time the river hadn’t been clear with Edith about the need to wait, and she felt she had to make a choice. River knew that the choice was not the river or Wayne. It was the river and Wayne later, or Wayne now and no river. She could wait. Both her man and her river were important to her.

Life was good. For her, her people, and her river.

River

By Dawn Natelle

Chapter 43 – Shelley’s future

I left this story for a long time, but as promised an epilog came to me. I hope some of you are still interested in the happenings at the River: Dawn.

Wayne stood outside the door of Professor Hillier, his second year Organizational Development course professor. Finally the professor opened the door and let him into his small office.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Stormcloud?” he asked.

“I was wondering about my term paper,” the young First Nation man asked. “I can't understand the marks.” He showed the paper, which had 0, 60, 70, 85 and 100 written across the top, with no real indication of which was the real mark.

“Ah yes,” the professor said, picking up the paper. “I spent almost as much time marking that paper as I did for the rest of the class. The zero was my initial response. I was quite certain that the paper was plagiarized or otherwise invalid. I marked it zero and put it aside for reassessment. The work presented looked like something from an MBA class, not an undergraduate paper.”

“The mark of 60 came when I could not prove it was copied, but was still suspicious. I read the paper again, and decided to move it to a 75. That was when I explored your references, which were presented in perfect APA style, by the way. I found one of the references referred to a CBC film clip where an Indian reserve taking over a pulp mill actually had you in it, standing at the rear with a pretty blonde as a lawyer explained the rationale for the takeover. This proved that you hadn’t copied the paper. The mark was raised to 85. It was a very good paper.”

“Finally I presented the paper to one of the full professors in the MBA program. He said it would be an A or A plus in his program. That was when I decided I had to award you a 100: if the paper would be an A plus for an MBA student. Congratulations. That is the first perfect term paper I have ever marked.”

“Thank you sir,” Wayne said, wondering why the man hadn’t stroked through the old marks when adding the newer ones.

“Are you planning on going up to the Indian band mill again next summer,” the professor asked.

“Yes I am, and if you wouldn’t mind, we prefer the term First Nations, not Indian.”

“Pshaw. I’m not a follower of all that politically correct stuff.”

“Would you refer to a Chinese student as a Chink? An Italian as a wop or dago? A black as a nigger?” Wayne asked.

The last one especially caught the professor’s attention. That term could kill his chances of earning tenure. “You said that, not me.”

“Well, the term Indian is just as offensive to me and my people,” Wayne explained. “Our culture has a long oral history tradition, and we have never been to India. We remember being the first peoples in this land, and therefore prefer the term First Nations.”

“I apologize, and will try to correct my terminology in the future,” the man said. “You must remember that I came of age in the ‘60s, and was brought up on Lone Ranger and Roy Roger video reruns. I played Cowboys and Indians with my peers. I meant no offense.”

“Thank you.”

“The reason I asked if you were going to be heading north in the spring was to ask if you might take another student with you. You seemed to pick up a lot of knowledge working there for several months. It could help another student.”

“I will have to ask the plant manager, Ken Turnbell,” Wayne said, “but I think he would approve of a second intern. Do you have someone in mind, or can I choose?”

“I don’t have anyone in mind. Do you?”

“Yes,” Wayne said. “I would like to take Billy Tootoo up.”

The professor nearly did a spit take with his coffee. “The jock? He is just in this class to get a non-sports credit so that he can keep playing football. I’ve agreed to pass him with a flat 50 percent, but I can’t recommend him for your internship. He still has to hand in his term paper, but I’m not looking for much there.”

“If he finishes the course with a 75% or better will you then agree that he can come?” Wayne asked.

“Sure. That isn’t going to happen,” the professor snorted.

Wayne left and called Ken, who agreed that he could take on two summer interns. Then Wayne went to find Billy, who was the only other First Nation student in Professor Hillier’s course. But while Wayne was tall and slim, Billy was anything but slim, weighing over 300 pounds on a 6’3” frame. He played offensive lineman on the Western football team, and was clearly not academically talented. He never spoke in the Organizational Development class, and often seemed to not pay attention to the lectures.

Once when Wayne had been late to class, he had to take a seat near the back to avoid disruption, and he sat next to Billy. He found that the man was not taking notes, but sketching out football plays through the entire class.

Since the course would not meet again until after the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday (a mid-October Monday in Canada) Wayne sought out the boy at the football field, where a practice was just wrapping up.

“Billy? Can I talk to you?”

“For a minute,” the big lineman said “Not too long though, or I get stuck with a cold shower.”

“I’m in Org. Development with you, and I have a proposition. Would you like to spend the summer at a First Nation’s reserve in northern Ontario this summer? I’m heading up there over Thanksgiving and could take you along if you’d like to look around.”

“Hmmm,” Billy said. “Thanksgiving weekend is our bye week, so there is no game. I could skip the Friday practice. The line coach has already said he wants all the players to eat hearty on Thanksgiving. He promised that he would work it off on Tuesday practice for our big game with Ottawa.”

Wayne pulled out his iPad, and showed Billy the videos of the river, including one with the Rube machine.

“Hey, I’m in for that,” Billy said. “That looks awesome.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at noon Friday. I have a class that ends at 11:30. I’ll have to rent us a car.”

“No need,” Billy said. “There is a car dealer in town that will spot us a loaner in return for me and a couple other guys doing a promo for him.”

On Friday afternoon the two men were heading on the 12-hour drive north, taking turns behind the wheel. They had left at 2 p.m. and with stops along the way for gas and dinner, they arrived at the park at 3 a.m. Wayne drove out and parked at the meeting place.

“Look, there is a girl out in the river,” Billy said. “She’s cute.”

“She’s mine, so hands off,” Wayne said as River came to the bank. Wayne stepped into the water and had a long hug with the rivertalker. Then River reached out for Billy’s hand. The big man thought he was going to get a hug as well, but instead River just pulled him along to the center of the river starting to sing in Ojibwe as she did. Wayne hunkered down on his haunches on the bank and listened to the beautiful song of the people. He knew that Billy was learning the Ojibwe language.

Then Wayne realized he could no longer understand River’s song. He could pick up a word or two, but most of it was foreign to him. It was three full hours later that she led Billy out of the water.

The man had changed. Wayne guessed that he was two inches taller. But more important, his pot-belly was completely gone. The forty or so pounds there had not left him, but instead had turned into muscles in his arms, shoulders, and legs. And while they didn’t know it at the time, he had another 30 pounds added in the same areas, so he would top the scales back at camp at 334 instead of 301.

“That was incredible,” Billy said as he climbed up the bank, finding his clothes still dry. “She taught me about my Cree culture, and the language. And I learned the Ojibwe language as well.”

“I know,” Wayne laughed. “You are speaking it right now.”

“I am?” Billy laughed. “Anyway, the river taught me more about Org. Development than I thought I ever would know. I have a paper to write before we go back. The subject seems so interesting now. In class it was just blah-blah-blah but now it seems so important. I need to learn stuff like this if I can’t make a living playing ball.”

River went back into the river, and Wayne convinced Billy that he would not forget everything from the river if he didn’t write his paper out immediately. They drove to the new Summerstorm home where the big RV was still parked waiting for the next trip out to the reserves. Wayne heard a baby crying in the house, so he went to the door and tapped.

It was Marilyn who answered, and immediately flung herself on her older brother. “Wayne! I didn’t know you were coming for Thanksgiving. Welcome. And invite your big friend in too.”

“Where is my niece,” Wayne demanded. Nick came out of the bathroom and handed the newly diapered girl to Wayne. He cuddled her for a while, and then asked Billy to put out a hand. He then laid the small bundle into that massive palm, which Billy cupped as his eyes went wide at the responsibility of holding such a small being. Luv did her trick though, grabbing onto the huge thumb and bringing it to her mouth and attempting to suck on it, although she couldn’t get her mouth around it.

“That is a sign that she is hungry,” Marilyn said, taking the baby from its huge resting place and putting her to her breast.

“That is so beautiful,” Billy said in a reverent whisper as Luv nursed. “She is so beautiful, so small, so perfect.”

“Oh, until you said small I was hoping you meant me,” Marilyn teased.

“You are beautiful and perfect,” Nick told his wife.

“Good answer,” Marilyn said. “But I see that small still doesn’t apply.” She laughed.

“You don’t need to be small when you are beautiful and perfect,” Nick said.

“Better answer.”

They chatted for a half hour and then Marilyn left her daughter with the boys, and started to make a breakfast. She thought she made enough, but Billy ate more than half of the meal. She had hoped to have some of the sausages left for lunch, as well as some bacon, but the three men cleaned it all up, with Billy eating more than the other two as well. Marilyn herself barely got anything. Luckily she was married to one of the richest men on the reserve. Feeding Billy could be a chore.

Wayne explained that they would be heading out that evening, and Billy had only come up to visit the river. Then they went next door to the Waters’ new house, where the family there was just sitting down to breakfast. Billy joined in ‘for a few things’ and wound up eating nearly as much as Mark.

The women stayed at Alison’s home, and prepared a pre-Thanksgiving evening meal. Many of their friends from the reserve and the other houses in the new subdivision had been invited over for an early Thanksgiving, while the traditional Ojibwe feast would be held on Monday, the holiday.

Nick drove into town and got the largest ham left in the local store, and brought it back to be added to the menu, along with another sack of potatoes. He hoped that would make enough food for the huge football player. When he got back, he saw that his other sister, Shelley was sitting on the couch next to Billy, and neither one seemed capable of seeing anything else but the other.

In the kitchen Nick nodded to his wife, who smiled with a glance at her sister. “Let her be,” Marilyn said. “She doesn’t get to meet too many good men up her. Wayne insists that he is a good man.”

Wayne was helping the women prep for the meal, allowing Shelley to visit. Nick handed him the sack of potatoes. “Here are some more potatoes to peel, since you brought the incredible eating machine to the party.” He turned back to his wife. “I also got a pretty big ham. Will there be time in the oven for it? Or should I take it home and cook it there?”

“Our house,” Marilyn said. “We only have a half hour gap here, and that looks like it will need 2 hours at 350. Do you want me to do it?”

“No, you are needed here, and I’m sort of at loose ends. I’ll take Luv over with me and we can cuddle a bit until Grandma and the Grandpas get here.”

“I’ll send them right over,” Marilyn said. “I know they will be more interested in Luv than anything here. Mark, why don’t you head over with Nick?” She handed the ham to the big boy.

It was near noon when the Stormclouds and Neil Audette arrived. Helen got first cuddles with the baby, and then Ben had to wait as his wife handed the baby to Neil next, since she said he had several minutes seniority as Grandpa. Finally the miner handed the baby to Ben.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Helen said. “Nearly as good as over at the other house.”

“I just changed Luv a few minutes before you all got here,” Nick said. “Mark wasn’t interested, for some reason. Anyway, I can’t smell much of anything good right now, but I suspect that the ham in the oven is what you mean.”

Helen checked the meat, pronouncing it a half hour from done, and then headed over to the other house, getting one more nice cuddle from Luv before heading to the other house where there was more work for her to join in on.

The men took turns with the baby, with Neil getting the most chances to join in. He just stared at the little girl, occasionally muttering ‘So like Ginny’ and getting a tear in his eye.

The ham was taken out 15 minutes later, and left to cool for another 15 before the men all headed out to the other house, with Mark carrying the meat, and Neil the baby.

Back at the house Billy looked away from Shelley for just a few seconds when he smelled the meat entering the house.

“Goodness me,” Shelley said, her trance broken. “I haven’t been helping a bit.” She started to stand up.

“Just stay where you are,” Wayne told his sister from the kitchen. “You are entertaining our guest, and I’m pretty sure he prefers chatting with you than with me. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Both Billy and Shelley turned red, but she sat back down, and resumed their quiet conversation, with Billy telling her about the university and playing football, and her telling him about the north.

There was a quick lunch to hold everyone over until dinner, and then Shelley asked: “Wayne, can Billy and I go into town? He really wants to see the Rube.”

“Sure, go ahead. But be back by 4 so we can start on the meal. That’s when everyone is coming. I don’t want you late for a meal.”

“I’ve never been late for a meal,” Billy said, “and I’m not going to start now. Everything in there smells wonderful.”

Guests started to arrive at 4, and River mingled with a tray of cheese and crackers as an appetizer. She saw Billy and Shelley return, walking hand-in-hand and clearly in love. She wondered if the river had something to do with it, or if it was just human nature.

The meal went well, with Billy pulling his considerable weight in demolishing the turkey and ham. Mark tried to keep pace, but soon fell far behind. After all, the football lineman was nearly twice his weight.

That night Billy begged Wayne to let them stay, and the other student didn’t mind. He said they would leave right after River finished her morning ceremony. That night Billy and Wayne stayed with the Summerstorms, while Shelley had to go home to the Stormcloud house. Helen drove her over in the morning so she could have breakfast with Billy.

Wayne drove them, and part of the family to the river, with Shelley and Billy nestled in the back seat and Neil in the front. He had also stayed over in the big house, getting quality Grandpa time in. He even changed Luv’s diaper in the morning, which was more than the other Grandpa ever did. Of course he had a Grandma and several aunts that were always willing to take on the dirty work.

River had been in the river all morning, and discovered that the budding love affair was none of its doing, but Manitou approved of the match. Billy would go south to school, returning in the summer, and she would continue her mission work to the other reserves. A pleasant thanksgiving service was presented, with Billy looking on in admiration as Shelley joined the singers in the river.

On the ride back to London after the service, Wayne drove most of the way, with Billy in the passenger seat typing on his laptop. The river had given him more than enough information for his paper, which he needed to hand in on Tuesday. The professor accepted late work from the football players, but Tuesday was the limit. They got home early Monday morning, and he spent a few hours to get references from his textbook, the Internet, and the library. In all he had spent three times as much on this paper as any others he had done. And he was proud of the paper. Anything else he had done in the past was just garbage that his professor would have to mark at 50% to keep him eligible for the team. This time he had really worked.

It showed. The professor called him in for a meeting, and quizzed Billy on several points that were made in the paper, and was astounded at the formerly marginal student’s understanding. He finally scratched out the 80% mark on the paper, and handed it back with an 85, the highest mark Billy had received on any paper since grade two.

And the boy also took more interest in his other subjects. There was an eight-hour road trip to Ottawa by bus that Friday, and Billy passed on playing cards or video games in the back with the other linemen, instead reading and studying for most of the ride up front.

The Ottawa game was available in the St. Mary’s hotel on their big screen TV that Saturday. In Canada college football games don’t get the attention the American games do, with crowds of only 3,000 to 10,000 at the games. But they are telecast, in a way, by volunteers of the local cable providers. Shelley had begged Colin RedHawk to get access to the game somehow, and he hacked into the satellite that the cable station in Ottawa used to send the game back to the London cable station. Thus Shelley and many others who had met Billy watched the game from the hotel dish.

Western generally has a good team, but this year they were rebuilding, and had lost two of their first three games, only beating perennial cellar-dwelling Toronto. Ottawa had an undefeated team that was ranked number 4 in the nation, and they hoped to move up with a big win over Western.

In the game Billy started out in defense, and he sacked the quarterback on the first two downs (there are only three downs in Canadian football). Ottawa punted poorly on third down, barely recovering the yardage lost in the sacks. Western was unable to get a first down, but got a better punt, gaining a bit of possession. The next series for Ottawa was a disaster. They decided to run on the first play, and the back ran into Billy, who stripped the ball, and then picked it up on first bounce. He ran downfield, but was not as fast as the offensive players from Ottawa. By the time he reached the 20 yard line, four of them were tugging at him, trying to pull him down. He refused to go down, and when he fell into the endzone there were seven Ottawa players hanging onto him. It was Billy’s first touchdown since high school.

Ottawa quickly learned that one man couldn’t keep Billy from their quarterback, so two, and finally three men were assigned to him. It gained the quarterback at most a second, as he would push one man into another, and then evade the third. He wound up with eleven sacks, blocked three passes, and pressured the quarterback into making bad plays many other times. When Ottawa tried to run, they had to run to the other side of the field, and with two or three men on Billy, that side was strong.

Billy stripped the ball three other times, although he didn’t recover the ball again. Twice though, other Western players did get the ball, resulting in one touchdown and one field goal. The anemic Western offense even got into the game, scoring one touchdown from good field position created by the defense.

The result was that Western won its second game, 24-19.

It became a tradition in St. Mary’s that the bar would be full on Saturday afternoons. Not much beer was sold to the reserve members, but the hotel made good money selling pizza and pop to the non-drinkers. There was a lot of cheering, as the new and improved Billy made Western into a powerhouse that didn’t lose another game all year, including the playoffs and the Vanier Cup, the national championship.

He then spent the Christmas holidays in the north, driving up with Wayne and Gordon and Donna Millet (and Rex, of course). Shelley and Billy were inseparable the entire time, and near the end of the holidays he proposed to her. In Canada even scholarship players struggle financially, and he couldn’t afford a diamond ring. Wayne spoke to George at the welding shop, and she made him a cheap, but pretty ring with a swirling wire that represented the river. She loved it, and vowed she would never replace it with a diamond, and held to her word, even after they were married and well off financially.

Billy finished the fall term with a 3.0 grade point average, well above the 1.5 needed to keep playing football, and even tutored some of his teammates. In spring, with no athletics to worry about, he scored a 4.0 and received the trophy as best academic athlete at the school, as well as best overall athlete.

He spent the summer at the mill, learning more and leading him to switch his major from sports management to the more challenging business major. He maintained his 4.0 GPA for the next two years, and graduated on the Dean’s List, the first football player to do so in 15 years.

As a grad, he went to a summer tryout camp for the Detroit Lions, and with his huge physique he made the team easily, even without a big-time US college football background.

He led Detroit into the SuperBowl for five years running, winning four, and the team was 4-0. He was the leading lineman in the league, and had won rookie of the year, and them a Pro Bowl spot each year. In his third year with the Lions he was named league MVP, an honor usually won by quarterbacks and recievers.

In the fifth game of his sixth year a new defensive line coach ordered Billy to knock the opposition quarterback out of the game. Billy already had 24 sacks in the initial games. Billy’s method so far was to wrap his arms around the quarterback, and push him back until the whistle went, which bothered the coach.

His new coach ordered him to throw the man to the ground forcefully on each sack, hoping to injure him so that a replacement would have to come in, and perhaps a third-stringer if the second man could also be hurt.

“I don’t play that way, coach,” Billy said. “I sack ‘em. No need to kill ‘em.”

The coach was livid. “You play for me, you play my way, you stupid Indian.”

Billy froze at the insult. He stood up and got into the face of the much smaller man, who fearfully backed off. Then Billy just turned around and walked off the field, even as the defense was needed on the field. He walked into the locker room, took off his uniform, showered, and got dressed. He then left the stadium where 65,000 rabid fans were wondering where he was as the Lions fell farther and farther behind.

By the time he was back to Windsor, Canada at the condo he and Shelley lived in, he was cool. And the Lions had lost 46-11. Billy was suspended. His agent was livid, first at Billy, then at the assistant coach. The coach was fired, but Billy still wouldn’t come back. He and Shelley had lived frugally as his salary, which increased to nearly a million a year, so they didn’t need to worry about money. Most of it was in the credit union up north. He announced his retirement.

For the next two weeks the sports media from Detroit were continually trying to get an explanation from Billy. He spoke to one reporter from the Windsor paper, but the Detroit papers and stations all wanted to get their own take on why he left. There were usually three to five media parked outside the condo every day of the next two weeks.

The Lions were on the road the following Sunday, and Shelley and Billy moved out that day, when the media horde was away. They drove to the reserve. The condo was sold and a moving van brought all their furniture along. The initial houses on the reserve were long since filled, but they bought a good lot on the St. Mary’s side of the highway and had Dale and his Ojibwe builders build a comparable home there.

Shelley went into the river with River as soon as she got there, and three weeks later she was pregnant. Luv was nearly eight, and adored her new cousin when he was born. By that time Nick and Marilyn had two other younger daughters and a son, and Shelley vowed she would catch up.

Billy took a job at the mill, and worked at every position through the plant as Wayne groomed him for a management position. Ken Turnbull retired soon after, and Wayne became plant manager, with Billy going into Wayne’s old job.

Her Finest Hour

A River Standalone Story

By Dawn Natelle

Editor’s Note: This is a prequel to the River series I am currently writing. It happens more than 70 years before the current story. The only character in the story from the series is the river itself. Be warned, there are no transgender elements in this story.

“Dammit Lucy, you’ve scalped me,” Jimmy Johnson cried out, still groggy from his first sexual experience, as his hand felt the short hair on the left side of his head.

“Go back to sleep,” the pretty young Indian maiden said. “None of the other boys even noticed.”

“I’ve got to get on the train to Camp Borden tomorrow,” Jimmy said. “Now you’ve got me looking like all the rest.”

“You’re in the army now, private,” the girl giggled. “They will be shaving your head anyway. Now I have something to remember you by.”

It was true. Jimmy, and nearly a dozen other boys would be boarding a train south tomorrow. About six weeks ago a recruiting officer had stopped of on a morning train, and by the time he got on the evening train, 12 boys had signed up, eight from the trading village of St. Mary’s, and four more from the adjacent reserve.

Since then Lucy had slept with all of them. Jimmy had heard people start to refer to her as ‘the Indian whore’ but he hadn’t heard of anyone actually paying. She slept with each of the boys who had enlisted in the spring of 1940, and every one had come home with a sizable patch of hair missing. Jimmy was the last, and Lucy had pursued him for almost a week. Her final taunt of ‘don’t you want to go to war as a man, not a boy’ had did it. Although the five beers might have helped.

War was in all the news. For years there had been talk about Hitler, and what Germany was doing. A few months ago the mother country had declared war, and almost a week later Canada followed suit. Then, for months and months, recruiting happened only in the cities. Finally, they came to St. Mary’s, and other towns across the northern railway, to bolster the numbers.

In Camp Borden Jimmy went through the gamut of experiences as a recruit. He had a strong desire to excel, and during one of the mindless, numbing full dress marches he decided that if he was going to be in the army, he was going to be the best damned private the army had. From that day on, he pushed himself, and he pushed the other men along with him, stopping to help a lagging soldier, or giving a few words of encouragement when it was needed.

As a result, when his six weeks of basic training ended, and his company was shipped to England, Jimmy was held back. He was given a sergeant’s insignia, and was held back at Borden to help train the next group. He felt bad about missing the trip to England, but was proud of his stripes, which occasionally would tingle on his arm when he did something right, or got one of his trainees to finally see the light and do a task correctly. Jimmy got the reputation for making good soldiers out of the most inept of recruits.

It was the spring of 1942 when Sgt. Johnson was finally sent off to England with one of the companies of men he had trained. He ran into some of the boys from St. Mary’s and found that he had missed nothing by staying in Canada over the past two years. The soldiers had done nothing during that time but train, and march, and get drunk in as many pubs as they could find.

Over the summer Jimmy joined them. Well, except for the drinking bit. Jimmy wasn’t opposed to an ale or two in a pub, but he was moderate, and generally was the one who could be depended on to get his mates safely home. And over the summer word started coming down that something was up. Training started to get more focused, and Jimmy was required to study maps of the French coastline. Soon he was able to identify any port from Calais to Brest, and know where the guns were, and what troops were thought to be in each area.

It was August 18 when he and his company were loaded onto a ship, and that night they felt themselves at sea. Their captain came round and told them that they were participating in a surprise raid in force on the village of Dieppe. Assignments were handed out, and then it was just a matter of waiting.

At about 5 am the firing started, and Jimmy was dropped with his company in the chilly English Channel, told to make his way towards the beaches. The lieutenant next to him was shot seconds later, and Jimmy turned in reflex and fired off a shot, feeling a tingle under his stripes. The machine gun raking the area stopped, and Jimmy yelled at the men to move in. Two minutes later the guns started again, and Jimmy again shot randomly at the shore batteries. Again the guns stopped, and by the time they started up again, Jimmy and almost all of his company were on shore. This happened several times as he made his way to shore. Jimmy didn’t know that every one of the random shots he took hit a German gunner in the forehead, disabling that machine gun until a replacement could scramble into position. The magic of the river crossed oceans.

It was madness. Hundreds never made it to the beaches, and almost no other company had as few casualties as Jimmy’s company E. They ran up to the seawall, and then waited. Nothing happened. Where is the air support, Jimmy wondered? Why has the navy pulled back?

At 10 a.m. an order to retreat came in from the generals. Retreat where, Jimmy wondered? Were they expected to swim back to England? All around him companies were surrendering to the Germans. ‘I didn’t go through all that training and hard work to spend the rest of the war in a German POW camp’, the young sergeant decided. So he gathered all of his company, and parts of two other leaderless ones, and headed over to the harbor.

The 43 men overloaded the fishing boat they commandeered, but Jimmy managed to get the engine started, and the boat slipped out of the harbor. It was unnoticed at first, and then miraculously was far enough out that shore fire caused minimal damage. Two soldiers were wounded by rifle fire, but more importantly, one engine was destroyed.

The boat limped northwest on the other engine, until that sputtered and died miles from the coast. It was just a matter of whether they would be picked up by the English, or picked off by the Germans.

Luckily it was the English, and Jimmy’s men were among the few Canadians from the raid to make it back to England. For two hours Jimmy was a hero. Then he spent the next four days in the stockade. Apparently yelling and cursing at your colonel is considered insubordination, even if the man had sent a thousand good soldiers to their death, and another two thousand to POW camps in Germany. A third of the attack force was lost, and Jimmy completely lost it as he was reporting to his colonel.

After four days, wondering if he was going to be shot or just dishonorably discharged, Jimmy was brought before a group of generals to detail his experiences in Dieppe. He complained about what he had seen go wrong. Being dropped so far from shore, lack of air support, lack of naval support, lack or any element of surprise, and general confusion. As he spoke, Jimmy noticed one American lieutenant general in particular. His name was Eisenhower, and while Jimmy had never heard of him before, he was impressed by the 52-year-old man’s manner and probing questions.

Jimmy was not sent back to the stockade, but was sent back to his unit, and officer training. Apparently Lt-Gen. Eisenhower had recommended to the Canadian forces that Jimmy had potential, and should be promoted. The Colonel who Jimmy had berated was irate, but his superiors wanted to impress the Americans who were starting to flow into Britain, so Jimmy wound up with a Lieutenant’s insignia a few months later.

Jimmy trained with a new company that soon began to love the honest, hard-working officer. His non-coms were impressed by the fact that he had been one of them, and his captain was impressed by the fact that whatever mission he was sent on, Lt. Johnson was sure to succeed. His training experience in Canada helped. When he found a man who was less than perfectly trained in anything, Lt. Johnson worked with the man until he had perfected the skill. Soon B company was considered the crack unit of the brigade.

There was a lot of training time too. After the debacle at Dieppe, no further raids were made on the coast of France, although Jimmy felt that early in 1944 such a raid could be successful. But as the year wore on, the soldiers, even lowly lieutenants, could tell that something was building.

Company B was in one of the lead craft that headed towards Juno beach on June 6, 1944. Their reputation as a crack company had earned them that dubious honor. This time the troops were in landing craft that could take them much closer to shore. As they huddled in those tin-cans, Jimmy heard a massive naval bombardment pelting the coast with bombs. Overhead squadron after squadron of fighters made sure that no German planes could strafe the men in the boats. Jimmy knew that General Eisenhower was in charge, and this calmed him.

The front of the landing craft opened, and Jimmy’s well-trained men flooded out, spreading out as they had been trained. Jimmy stood in the back of the boat, and fired one, two, three random shots at the shore.

“What the hell are you doing, Johnson,” the captain yelled at him. “You can’t hit a damned thing at this distance.”

Lt. Johnson turned and looked at his captain, and was amazed to see a red spot appear on the man’s forehead before the body slumped to the deck. Jimmy turned again, and fired. The machine gun stopped, and Jimmy felt the familiar tingle on his lieutenant badge. He then waded into the Channel, not far behind his men, occasionally stopping to fire off a round when he heard machine gun fire in the area. With every shot he felt the tingle, and the machine gun stopped firing.

Company B was first to the beach, and then first to the dunes where they were finally protected from enemy fire. Jimmy looked up and down, and was relieved to see almost all the familiar faces staring back at him.

“Where is the Captain?” one of the sergeants shouted.

“Dead,” Jimmy said, remembering the ring of red and look of surprise on his commanding officer’s face as he died.

“You’re in charge then, cap,” Sgt. Wouters said. “What now?”

Jimmy looked around, and made a decision within five seconds. “Those poor bastards out there are being slaughtered. We need to get out of here, and silence the batteries above. Move out.”

Company B then stormed up the dunes and made their way to the bunkers, half of the company going each direction. The shore defenses concentrated on the beaches, and only small arms fire bore down on the men. One group headed east, with Jimmy in command. As soon as someone started sniping at them, a shot from the lieutenant’s rifle would silence them. Methodically the men made their way from one fortification to another, cleaning each out one by one until there was a huge section of Juno beach that was no longer being heavily defended.

Eventually the two squads reunited, and Jimmy was dismayed that Sgt. Wouters had lost five men. No one in Jimmy’s squad had been shot. Three of the five were injured, the sergeant reported. They should be okay until the medics get to them. Privates Corson and Ormston didn’t make it.

Jimmy was hurt. He had lost two of his men. He didn’t like the feeling, and promised himself to make sure no more died. “What now, captain,” the sergeant said.

“We are going back to jail,” Jimmy said. The men all knew of his time in stockade. It was one of the things they loved about their leader. “The town jail here is used to hold members of the resistance. We are supposed to free them.”

The jail was lightly held, and the four men there surrendered in surprise when they found a full company of Canadians bearing down on them. Little did they know it was the only company off the beaches already, but they were locked into the cells and five women were released. Apparently all the male resistance leaders had been moved to more secure location. The Germans were quite sure that the females were incapable of causing them problems. They were wrong.

Yvette Leblanc was a pretty teenager who spoke halting English, but was able to speak with the lieutenant. Jimmy assigned two of his company who were from Quebec to interrogate the other girls, all under the age of 30.

It was Jimmy that scored first, when Yvette told him about a squad of Tiger tanks that were off on a training mission a few miles inland. The tanks would be called in as reinforcements soon, and could cause havoc on the landing. Yvette said that there was only one bridge big enough to support the heavy Tigers.

“Damn,” Jimmy said. The tingling under his badge told him this was important. “Is there somewhere we can get some heavy armor? Tank-blasters?” There was no time to wait for the heavy stuff to get off the beaches.

“Oui,” the girl said. “The Germans have an armory about two miles to the west.”

“Com’on guys,” Jimmy shouted, “we’re going Tiger hunting.”

As the men deployed around the armory, Jimmy was shocked to find the five women arrayed with his men, carrying German guns they had picked up. He considered sending them away, but a tingle warned him not to. He just shook his shoulders and assigned them positions along with the men.

The armory was better defended than the jail had been, but in a ten-minute firefight it was taken, with only one injury to his team. One of the girls’ guns had misfired, giving her superficial wounds to her hands and arms.

Inside the armory, Yvette was able to point out the anti-tank cannon, as well as the ammunition for it. “Does someone here know how these things work,” Jimmy yelled at his men.

“Oui, I do,” Yvette said. “I will fire the gun for you.”

“Non,” Jimmy replied. “You will teach my men how to fire the gun. You said there were six tanks out there. I want six guns to take them out.”

“No can do,” Sgt. Wouters said as he searched through the weaponry. “There are only four of the guns. Lots of ammo though. The shells are big buggers though. I don’t think a man can carry more than two.”

Yvette tried to plead to be able to fire one of the guns, but Jimmy insisted that she stay near him, to identify the terrain around the bridge. The girl was starting to admire the forceful young lieutenant, so she acquiesced, and started Tiger Busting 101 training with twelve men, three per gun, and four others as a backup for each gun. The men left less than an hour after arriving at the armory, carrying off four guns and forty shells, heading two miles down the road towards the bridge.

“Where the hell is Company B?” Colonel Scott yelled at a major.

“They apparently were first off the beach,” the major replied. “There were a couple of men wounded, and they reported that the company cleared most of the pillboxes.” That solved a question for the colonel. How the Canadians had such an easy time of it, while the Americans were being plastered at Omaha and Utah.

“That is Corwin’s company, isn’t it?” the colonel asked.

“Apparently he was shot during the landings. Lt. Johnson is in charge now. They say he took the men inland.”

“Well he better have a damned good reason,” the colonel shouted. “Orders were to stay at the beach until at least noon.”

Jimmy surveyed the terrain around the bridge, assisted by the pretty Yvette. The girl had apparently not eaten in two days, so Jimmy gave her his field rations on the way over, and ordered his men to do the same with the other girls. Even the wounded girl was still with them, although the other three had dropped their guns and were just helping her. Yvette, kept her rifle though, and apparently knew how to use it. Jimmy had seen her pick off at least two of the German defenders of the armory, as many as most of his men.

Jimmy soon had four gun emplacements selected. The plan was to let two tanks get off the bridge, and then the first two guns would fire from the left. As soon as they did, Jimmy would have a squad of men run from a barn to a nearby abandoned farmhouse. That should cause all the tanks to track to the left, and the two guns at the right would start firing at will until all the tanks were destroyed. It was a good plan. All that had to happen now is for it to work.

It did. Like clockwork the string of tanks came into view. It stopped on the far side of the bridge, and some of the infantrymen who were riding on the backs of the tanks ran out and checked under the bridge for explosives or other problems. Finding nothing, they hopped back onto their rides, and waited until the tank commander ordered his column over the bridge.

The first tank crossed the bridge, and took up a covering position to the left. Then a second tank crossed and took up a position at the right. Then all hell broke lose. Both of the first two shots were perfect, and obliterated the first two tanks, including the commander. Germans in the other four tanks noticed the small group of Canadians run to the farmhouse, and as predicted all four tracked their cannon at the house.

By now a third tank was in the middle of the bridge, and it was the next to be destroyed, again on the first shot. It took five other shots to take out the final three tanks. The infantry riding on the first two tanks had been killed in the initial blasts, and several on the third. The riders jumped off the other tanks, but were quickly picked off by the Canadians, except for two. They were killed by Yvette, sniping from her position next to Jimmy.

Jimmy really wanted to head on to Caen, the ultimate goal of the Canadian and British forces, and largely undefended. But he had the wounded girl to worry about. He just hoped that his superiors would get troops up there before the Germans reinforced the strategic city.

Back at base Jimmy was called in by the Colonel to report, and was given a field promotion to Captain. Colonel Scott didn’t say anything, but resolved to recommend the young captain for a Victoria Cross. Taking out the tanks, plus destroying the pillboxes at the beach had done more to secure success for the Canadians at Juno than anything else.

It was October before Capt. Johnson saw action again, although be this time he was a Major. Apparently General Eisenhower himself had heard of the exploits of the man he had met as a sergeant, and had pressed for the additional promotion. One of the general’s aides suggested bringing the young Canadian over to the Americans as a liaison officer, but General Eisenhower refused, noting that ‘men who fight like that are needed to kill Germans, not to push papers.’

The Victoria Cross never did materialize, however, held back by the colonel that Jimmy had insulted after Dieppe. That man was a major planner for Operation Market Garden that summer, and made sure that Jimmy’s battalion was not involved. Of course, Market Garden turned out to be one of the biggest debacles of the war, exceeding even Dieppe, so Jimmy avoided that mess.

Instead he spent time bringing his battalion up to what he insisted as peak operational status. The men were astounded to see a major sit down with a private and teach him the proper way to clean a rifle. Word of his past went through the ranks, and the men started to refer to him as Major Sarge, although never to his face. Not that Jimmy cared. He was proud of his roots.

In September, Jimmy was brought into the planning for the Battle of the Scheldt, the attempt to clean up the Market Garden fiasco. Jimmy was glad that the Canadians were to be a major component of the battle, so they could redeem themselves for being at Market Garden, even though that mess had largely been caused by poor planning, not failure by the troops.

On October 2, the attack started, and it continued until November 8, when the Wehrmacht was finally pushed out of the peninsula. But it was still early October when the battalion field kitchen opened, and Jimmy discovered that random Dutch citizens, nearly starved, started to appear at his gates. He ordered that the civilians should be fed, and sent away with a loaf of bread and some k-ration packages.

At the end of the battle, a general came to complain to Major Johnson about his misuse of army supplies. “You let your men go on short rations, so you could feed the Dutch,” the man yelled.

“I did, and I would do it again,” the major said. “These are our allies, and we are liberating them. I had no intention of liberating corpses. Do you know what the Dutch are calling these times? The Hunger Winter.”

“Well, since you like the Dutch so much, you can stay with them. Your battalion was the star in the fight, but I’ve decided you are too much of a loose wheel to get the promotion to colonel some say you deserve. Another man will take on the regiment you would have led in the march to Berlin.”

For the next few months Jimmy followed the news of the march into Germany and the eventual surrender of the Germans. He was content to continue his mission of policing the Dutch territories, made quite easy by the fact that the Dutch people loved him as much as his men did. He was even feted by Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands when she returned to the country after leaving exile in England. Her daughter Juliana had been in exile in Canada, and that, plus the Canadian efforts to liberate her country forged a bond between the two nations that is maintained to this day, when thousands of tulip bulbs are sent to Ottawa each year.

Lucy Reddove sat on a hill overlooking the ceremonies at St. Mary’s. Her type would not be welcome in town, but she had walked down the river to this location where she and her three children could see the pageantry. It was a special celebration for the end of the war, with 17 of the 21 men that St. Mary’s and the reserve had sent to serve were to be honored by the village. Lucy was happy to be away from the crowds. She was considered a whore by the villagers, and hated that the church ladies of the village called her three children bastards. But it was now true that she was a prostitute, augmenting her welfare check by the gifts of gentlemen callers. She had slept with every boy who had gone to fight, free of charge: all 17 of the men on stage, and the four more recent enlistees who were still in Europe for the clean up operations. Not one of them had died or been injured in battle.

Six of the men on the stage sat at the back. They were the native soldiers. At first the village had planned on only honoring the white veterans, but when Major Johnson heard of this he was irate, and insisted that he would not appear unless all the soldiers were served. This didn’t mean that their families could appear. The whites would not abide by having ‘dirty Indians’ at their celebrations. A few parents and relatives were on the hill with Lucy, and a second celebration was planned by the rivertalker later in the day in the reserve.

Lucy looked at the handsome Major as he spoke to the crowd as the ranking officer.

“Who dat?” asked her three-year-old daughter, Janie.

“That is a hero,” Lucy said quietly.

“My daddy is a hero,” six-year-old Jamie said. “He went to the war, and won’t be coming back.

“No, he won’t,” Lucy said, looking at the boy and comparing how much he looked like the young major on the stage. Jamie just had a darker skin tone. Otherwise, he was the spitting image of the boy Lucy had seduced seven years earlier. She would never tell the boy who his real father was. Instead he would be able to tell people that his father died a hero in the war.

The daughter Janie, with her reddish hair, uncommon in a native person, looked a bit like a red-haired private sitting to the Major’s left. And the baby, not yet a year old, probably would grow up to look a lot like one of the four who were not present.

Lucy sighed. Her days as a prostitute were over. It is not a profession one can retire from with a pension. Luckily, still under 30, with her good looks not marred by drink or drugs, she still could attract men. But Helmut Audette, a trapper who had used her services in the past, had asked her to marry her. Annually, for the past four years. This year, with the war clearly winding down, Lucy had agreed. Helmut was building them a cabin far out on his trap lines, alongside the river. Lucy had no desire to stay in the village or even the reserve, although there she was treated like a human. She couldn’t be married in the village church, but the rivertalker had promised to give her a native ceremony, all she and Helmut wanted.

Lucy looked at the young woman standing behind the major, intently listening to him speak. That must be the French girl he was marrying, she thought. She was pretty. Then Lucy smiled. “You may get him, but I got him first.”

“Is it over,” Janie asked.

“Yes it is,” Lucy said, reaching over and touching the doll that her daughter had carried all her life. She felt a tingle, and at the same second, the major felt a final tingle from the insignia on his shoulder. He looked up, and saw Lucy, and three children, standing up to leave. At that moment, the river magic left the doll, and it was suddenly just a doll.

“Don’t forget your doll,” Lucy said to Janie. Her doll that was stuffed with the hair of 21 men who lived.

By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

A River Standalone Story

Roundstones and the Wolf

(This story, related by Mark Waters, uses Ojibwe terms in many places. The initial part of the story comes from Mark’s own imagination, but later the history of the Ojibwe people is incorporated into the story from Manitou, speaking to Mark through the river.)

Long ago, in the early years, a young warrior aged about 12 winters watched in futility as eleven older warriors of his band headed out to hunt. “You are too small,” they had said, leaving him behind with the women and younger boys. It didn’t help that the men had taken the bulk of the remaining food, and left the women closely guarding the rest until they returned from their hunt with a bear, deer, or moose to feed the people. Roundstones, the boy, was hungry, angry, and sad that he was too small to hunt.

Roundstones decided in his shame to go hunting on his own. Perhaps he could get a rabbit or groundhog to add to the community pot. So he gathered his spears, and also the treasured knife that his grandfather had shaped from flint many years ago, and headed out in the opposite direction to the hunting party.

After about an hour, he heard a noise and dropped to the ground, preparing his spear. He would probably only get a single throw if it was a fast small creature like a rabbit. He lay silently on the damp soil for a long few minutes, hoping that something tasty would come by.

Ma'iingan the wolf limped into the clearing, and Roundstones nearly tossed his spear. Wolf is not the tastiest food, but it would feed the people tonight. But something stopped Roundstones from throwing, and he instead watched silently. He was proud of his stealth. Many of the men who had gone hunting could not keep quiet enough to be undetected by a wolf.

The wolf was injured. He walked into the clearing, and Roundstones saw a large stick poking into his side. The boy thought about it. It didn’t look like a spear, but a simple branch. Perhaps the wolf had fallen off a bank or cliff onto the stick, letting it pierce his hide. At any rate, it looked serious, and the wolf suddenly tottered and then fell onto his other side.

Roundstones stood quietly. The wolf heard him rise, and looked about frantically, but was unable to gain his feet again. “Don’t worry,” Roundstones said. “I will not hurt you.” The boy could almost kick himself in frustration. Here was a meal, ready to go, and he had just promised it sanctuary. He continued to approach the animal, which had bared its fangs until the boy had spoken.

“Who are you?” the wolf said.

“I am Roundstones, but you can call me Round,” the boy said. “You are hurt?”

“Yes. The pack was chasing a deer. We have not fed for several days, and were a bit reckless. I tumbled off a cliff, and fell on a stick. The rest of the pack had to chase the deer, and I was left. I hoped to make it back to our dens, but I can’t.”

“Would you like me to pull it free?” Round asked.

“If you would. I will not bite you, even if it hurts.”

“I think it will hurt,” the boy said. He then reached out and pulled out the stick, and blood began to flow.

The wolf started to lick the wound, and slowly its saliva helped seal the wound. Round poured water from his canteen out into his hand, and the wolf gently lapped it up, giving him more saliva to heal himself. Soon the wolf fell back into sleep. Round listened to it breathing and sat quietly waiting for his new friend to waken.

About an hour later, a rabbit hopped into the clearing from upwind, not smelling nor hearing the boy or the wolf. Round had his spear at the ready, and quickly hit the rabbit, piercing it in the chest. The rabbit died immediately.

Here is food for the people tonight, Round thought. But he looked at the wolf, and thought that there would be enough at the camp for the people tonight, but Ma'iingan needed food to heal himself. He picked up the still warm rabbit and brought it to the sleeping wolf. He placed the spear wound of the rabbit next to the animal’s mouth, and let the blood drip in. Suddenly the wolf’s great tongue lashed out, lapping up the blood. Then his jaws clamped down on the rabbit, and squeezed more blood out. The wolf never woke.

When the wolf stopped feeding on the blood, Round decided to take the rabbit back. He was hungry too. It took more than a little work to pry the animal out of Ma'iingan’s mouth, but eventually he was able to do so. He took his knife and skinned the beast. In spite of the wolf bites, his mother might be able to do something with the pelt.

Round then cleaned the animal, leaving the entrails on a rock for the wolf when it awakened. He started a small fire, and cooked rabbit meat on sticks, eating his fill, and leaving a smaller portion raw with the entrails. Round felt full for the first time in days, and laid back on a tree, guarding the wolf from harm. It was past noon when the wolf woke with a jerk, and quickly stood, looking about furtively.

“You are better?” Round asked.

“You are real?” the wolf said. “I thought I was dreaming. I dreamed that you pulled the stick, and gave me water. Then I remember feeding on rabbit’s blood.”

“You did,” Round said. “And there is the rest of the rabbit.” He pointed, and the wolf gobbled down the food. Round had also piled the bones there, and the wolf ended his lunch by crunching bones to extract the marrow inside.

“Thank you,” the wolf said. “I declare you to be a wolf friend, and all my people will be friends with the people of the river. If you have need of me, just whistle, and I will come if I am near enough to hear.” With that, the wolf loped off towards his pack, and as he did so, he caused three rabbits to scatter and run away from him, but towards Round. The young brave quickly had his spears out, and unleashed two in succession, each killing a rabbit.

The wolf didn’t look back, so Round wasn’t sure if it had been helping, or had just accidentally sent the prey towards the boy. At any rate, Round was able to skin the rabbits and take the food home to his people. His mother and the other women added the rabbit to a stew, and the entire tribe ate well that night. Except for the hunters who had gone the other direction, and returned home late with no food, and had to make do on the remains of the food in the pot.

The next day the men went out again. They had laughed at Round’s story about the wolf, so he didn’t ask to join them this time, although several would have spoken up for him for feeding the people the day before. The men went in a different direction, north, while Roundstones went in the same direction as the day prior. There was that third rabbit out there, and perhaps more.

When the sun was high in the sky, Round felt that his friend was near, and whistled. A few moments later Ma'iingan trotted into the clearing.

“You look well,” Round said. “Your leg is healing nicely.”

“Yes, thanks to you. Had I gone back to my pack as a cripple, I might have been chased away. With the healing I had before I got there I was able to defend myself from those who want my position. The pack is hunting to the north today, but I decided to take one more day to recover. Besides, I think there is a deer this way.”

“A deer?”

“Yes. If I get around behind it, I can chase it this way. You can hide in a bush, and when the deer comes, you throw one of your sticks at it. We will split the kill, half for the wolves, and half for the people.”

“My spears? Yes, I can do that,” Round said.

The two made plans, and the wolf headed off at a lope. After about an hour Roundstones heard a howl, and knew it was Ma'iingan. He was far enough away that it would take about 15 minutes for the deer to get close, so the boy prepared, hoping that his new friend would be able to direct the deer his way.

Suddenly the deer burst through the bush and ran almost straight at Round. It was an easy throw, and the boy did not miss. The deer died instantly. It was a young buck, perhaps in its third year, and was big enough that Round could not have carried all the meat back to his people, even if he didn’t have to share.

Ma'iingan arrived about five minutes later. “Good,” he said as he watched Round skin and clean the animal. “We both get half. You can take the skin, it is of little use to us.”

“You can have all the entrails, then” Round said.

“Are you sure?” the wolf asked. “That is some of the best eating.”

“My people will only eat the heart and liver,” Round said. “And I will leave those to you in return for this fine skin, which my mother will use to make me new furs.”

After the deer was cleaned, Round sliced off as many cuts of meat as he could carry. The wolf was amazed that the boy was leaving him all the bones, which the wolf considered a delicacy.

As Round walked back to his people, he heard the wolf howl behind him alerting others to a kill. Soon all the other wolves in Ma'iingan’s pack would arrive to share in his kill. Round wondered if they would notice that half the meat was gone.

At the camp Round was greeted like a hero. The meat he had brought in would feed the people for a week, even if the men found nothing.

The hunters returned the next day with only small game, and were amazed to find that there was a deer carcass being cured, along with steaks and stews that they could add their meager kills of rabbits and squirrels to. Roundstones, the young boy who had wanted to hunt with them, had amazingly gone out and killed a deer.

After the hunters fed on their first good meal in half a moon, Roundstone’s uncle, Running Hare, stood. “It is a tradition that boys of a certain age go out alone into the wild and come back with a kill, or at least the experience of a hunt. My late brother’s son is not of that age, although he will be soon. I declare that he has fulfilled his spirit journey, and thus be accorded status of a full warrior of the people.”

There was much discussion among the other warriors. Round was three years too young, and not fully grown, and many sizes too small. In a battle he would not be able to fight, some said. Others noted that he had brought down a deer, and fed the people, and that alone made him a man. The vote was close, and in the end the old chief announced that Round was a man.

“As his late father’s brother, I claim the right of naming Round with his adult name. I declare his new name to be Deerslayer. Do you approve?” Running Hare asked the boy.

Round thought carefully. To turn down a name would dishonor his uncle greatly, but he found it impossible to accept that name. “I would be called Wolf-friend, but still use the name Roundstones as well.”

A dark look flashed across his uncle’s face. The man stood, and there was anger in his voice. “Since the death of my brother eight winters ago I have cared for his wife and children. Wolf-friend” he sneered saying the name “is now a man, so I give him the responsibility for his mother and sister.”

“Please, uncle, do not be angered at me. I will take responsibility for my family, but it would hurt me greatly to lose your friendship and guidance. You have been like a father to me, and I do not dishonor you lightly. But can I tell you the story of why I must choose a different name?”

The uncle paused for a long time, and then sullenly nodded. The boy was at least being polite in spite of the snub. Then Roundstones went into his story about how he had met the wolf, and befriended him. When he finished, there were doubting faces around the circle. Never had the wolves been friends of the people, and most considered Round’s story a fantasy.

Looking around at the faces of the listeners, Round realized that his story was not being believed. So he whistled. He had sensed that Ma'iingan was nearby, and a few seconds later the wolf trotted into the camp and sat at Round’s side, causing the others in the band to gasp.

“I forgive your rejection of the name Deerslayer,” his uncle said. “You are right, it would be a dishonor to your friend here by not accepting the name you did.”

“Ma'iingan and I have made a vow,” Round said. “We will hunt together and share in our kills. The deer we all just ate was not a small one, like most of you suspected. It was actually large, but I only brought half home. Ma'iingan fed his people with the rest. I would like to suggest that we extend that vow to all our people, and all of his.”

“You gave away a half a deer?” the old chief rumbled.

“No, I shared it. Without Ma'iingan’s help, I would not have any deer. Nor would he. But together we were able to bring down a large animal and both peoples ate well.”

“You have been a man for 15 minutes, and you want to promote a treaty between the band and another. And wolves at that. I don’t know. What do others think?” the chief asked.

At first the idea was alien to the warriors, and they resisted the idea. Round had to argue hard to get them to come around to the idea that a treaty would be good for the people. He noted that there would be little lost in such an agreement. The people would not throw their spears at the wolves, and the wolves would not attack the people, even if some were young or alone. The distrust between the sides was strong, but in the end the chief called a vote, and most warriors agreed to try a treaty for a year.

“Ma'iingan has to leave now,” Round said. “He has to go and convince his pack to accept the treaty, and I think he will have a harder time than I did.” With that the wolf trotted off.

It was three days later, when the venison stocks were dwindling, that another hunting party was formed. Round was included this time, making the numbers 18, three of which were young boys, two a few years older than Round, and him as the third.

Two miles out, the party came upon a fork in the path, and the chief and hunting leader both said they should head east. Round paused. “Why don’t we go north,” he suggested, “since that is where the deer are. There is nothing larger than raccoons to the east.”

The chief was upset. The boy was getting on his nerves. “You go to the north then, since you are such a mighty hunter. The rest of us are going east. But if you fail to bring back a deer, then you will go hungry.”

“Thank you, wise leader,” Round said. “But I am small, and cannot carry much. I wouldn’t want to leave the wolves more than their share. Perhaps uncle can come with me?”

In the end, both Round’s uncle and a good friend split off with him. The friend was intrigued by the idea of using wolves in a hunt. After a few hours of walking, Round whistled, and Ma'iingan appeared, along with five other wolves. Apparently he had managed to get his pack to agree to the treaty. Round and the two other natives found suitable spots where they could hide from the deer, and the wolves spread out, soon finding several deer that they chased towards the men.

In time a group of about nine deer burst into the clearing, and quickly four were speared, two by Round, and one each by each of the others. The wolves burst in and started to tear into one of the carcasses, until Ma'iingan growled them away.

The people were quick to jump in and start to clean the animals, quickly gutting them and tossing the entrails away, so that the hungry wolves could enjoy a feast. Then they skinned the deer, and divided the meat up, leaving a fair share for the wolves, who started to howl to call the rest of the pack to the kill. The men took the hides, antlers, and their share of the meat and piled it onto a drag that they could take turns in pulling back to the band.

It was after dark when they returned, and the women were elated to see more food, since they had rationed the meals that day, not knowing if there would be more for the next day. To see a hunting party return so quickly was amazing.

The other hunters didn’t return for another two days, and when they did they had only raccoons and small game. They were amazed to find that Round had led the others to four kills. It was at this point that most of the other warriors understood that Roundstones was the hunting leader they needed, even if he was still young.

The band thrived that summer, always seeming to have food when needed as they wandered along their hunting grounds. At this time the people lived in small tents made of deerskin stretched over wooden poles, easy to set up and take down to move to a new location as the hunt required. The huts were small and flimsy, with room for only two people, or two and a small child. As children grew in both size and number a second hut would be made for them.

That fall Round led the band farther and farther from their traditional hunting grounds, eventually moving closer to the great water the people called Kitchi-gami. The band stopped a mile or two north of Kitchi-gami, far enough away from the cold winds that blew across the lake, instead camping in a clearing along a river that ran down to the lake.

The water in the river was cold: so cold that they could not wade across it, but had to find a beaver dam or fallen log to span it. A warrior slipping and falling in would immediately have to rush to the banks and clamber out, and then spend long hours before a fire to warm up. Round decided the band would spend the winter there, and move out in the spring.

One day when Roundstones returned from another successful hunt, he found his sister Red Flower on the riverbank dangling her feet in the river. He was amazed, because he could not keep his hands in the water for more than a few seconds, yet she seemed comfortable spending hours like that. “The river talks to me,” Flower said. “And it just told me something new.”

With that she took four or five of the younger children with her and they foraged through the fall underbrush, digging roots of different types. She brought the roots back, and washed the dirt off them in the river, then tossed many of them into the stew pot where the fresh meat was cooking. The older women squealed in horror. To them it was as if she had just thrown clumps of soil into the stew, ruining it. But Flower used all her influence as sister of Round to keep them from dumping the meal and starting over. After a half hour, the women tasted the mixture, and found that the roots had greatly changed the flavor of the stew, for the better.

Another half hour later, the entire tribe feasted on the stew, and all were amazed at the taste. The people had eaten roots before, but only when there was no other food from the hunts, and those roots tasted bitter and were hard to stomach. But cooked in a venison stew, these were delicious. Flower suddenly gained status in the band on her own right, and not just as the sister of the deer hunter.

The next time the hunters went out, Flower stopped Round first, and whispered in his ear. He looked at her in amazement at the request she made, and then nodded in agreement. While the hunters were away, Flower had many of the people in the woods cutting saplings and had a small stack of posts two fingers thick and most slightly taller than a grown man, although a few were twice that length. When the hunters returned with their kills, Round presented Flower with her request: the small intestines of all the animals killed.

Flower then started working with the intestines, after they had been cleaned in the river. She would have one child hold up a post, while another stood a distance away, and held up another. She had Round hold up a longer pole between the two. Flower then wrapped deer intestine around the ends of the poles. After a third post was added, with a cross pole, the structure could stand on its own, shakily. A fourth post, and the remaining two cross poles completed the structure.

“This is pretty, little sister,” Round said. “But it is too fragile to stand for long.”

“The river says it will,” she answered, “and I believe what the river says.”

She then went to work on her collection of deer hides, one of the largest in the band thanks to her brother’s hunting prowess. She punched holes in the edge of each hide, and then, when she had enough, she got the remaining intestines, and started lashing these hides to the sides of the structure to form walls.

She was doing this after a hearty dinner of venison and roots had been enjoyed, and the hunters sat at the fire, making bets on how many hides she would be able to attach before the structure fell. To their surprise, there was no winner, as she managed to place hides all around the spindly structure. They did laugh and suggest that in morning the entire thing would be in a pile on the ground.

The next morning Round rose early, and found that Flower had been sewing most of the night, with her feet in the river. She had joined many deerskins together, and insisted that Round get several men to throw it over the poles to create a roof.

“But the whole thing will fall down,” Round said. “I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen already.”

“Check it,” Flower said curtly, and Round went over to find that over night the deer gut had hardened and the entire structure was solid. He got several of the men, and with some work they managed to throw the top onto the lodge, which Flower said was called a wiigiwaam.

Flower showed them the door, and led Round and the three men inside. It was dark inside, of course, but as their eyes adjusted to the darkness, the men realized that it was a huge step up from the huts they slept in. There would be room for Round’s entire family in the wiigiwaam, his mother and his sister now, and several wives when he decided to take them. Many of the girls of the band were already flirting with the boy who seemed likely to be a future leader.

The entire band had to look into the wiigiwaam and more than one of the women had that look of “make me one of these” for their men. It had taken nearly all the gut from the last hunt to make the lodge, so new ones would have to wait for additional hunts. A list was made up, with the chief to get the second wiigiwaam, then Round’s uncle, and so on down the 18 families. Not all would be ready before the snows fell, but those who were in lodges by then would not face nearly as much bitter cold.

It was Flower who decreed that, after the snows, any children under the age of 12 whose parents did not have a wiigiwaam to sleep in would spend the nights in the existing ones, which greatly relieved the parents who were low on the list.

Storm Owl led his people south. The tribe was weak, and the young ones were dying for lack of food. It had been many weeks since the band had a good meal, with only the odd rabbit or squirrel caught by the hunters. Soon they all could be dying if they didn’t find food. There was another band in their territory, and it seemed that the deer were always near them, and not Storm’s people. Finally, the men of the band decided that they would challenge the intruders.

They were nearing those people. They had seen them on the other bank of the river for the past few days, but it was the River-that-cannot-be-crossed, so Storm had to lead his people up the river until they came to a crossing spot on a beaver dam. He had only 31 people in his band, 12 warriors, 10 women, and nine youngsters. Three other infants had died that year, and several others would soon unless they found food.

The other tribe was nearly twice as big, and they looked well fed. Storm decided that even a surprise attack would not work, and all his people could die. He decided instead to challenge the newcomers, and see if they would give up the territory, as unlikely as that was.

He called out when he saw people standing around four large huts, bigger than any Storm had ever seen before. The clearing quickly filled with men, all with spears in one or both hands, and Storm knew he was right that an attack would fail. Nevertheless, he blustered on.

“Newcomers,” he shouted. “You are on land that has been our territory since our people came here. We ask you to leave, to avoid bloodshed.”

The old man who appeared to be chief looked at Storm, and the ragged band behind him. He nodded to several of his hunters, who spread out to make sure that there were no others hiding in the bush. When those reported back with an all clear, the Chief spoke.

“This land was empty when we came here five weeks ago. We intend to stay the winter, if not longer. You may continue to hunt this territory if you like. We have found much food here.”

“Our people have not found such ample food,” Storm said. “I challenge for the territory. One champion for each band, fighting to the death. The losing band will be slaves of the other for two years.”

“I will be champion of the people,” a young boy, standing next to an even younger girl, chimed out.

The chief looked at the boy in annoyance. Round was always creating trouble. Now he was the most valuable member of the band, and not to be risked like this. But the chief realised that almost always the trouble Round created ended up to the benefit of the band. And to refuse him the right to represent the band after his rash claim would be insulting.

“I agree,” the chief said.

“What? You expect me to fight a mere boy? I see many warriors worthy to fight,” Storm said.

“Are you refusing my champion?” the chief said. “That would be a forfeit, and your band would become my slaves.”

“No. I will fight him,” Storm said. “Get your spear, boy.”

“I will fight with this,” Round said holding out the knife his grandfather had made. “But not yet. You, and your people are hungry. Our people have food, and will feed them, and you. I must visit the river while you eat.”

Round then walked to the river beside Flower. “It will work,” she said. “It will be cold for a second, then it will be nice.”

He entered the water, and found that after a few seconds the water was no longer so cold. He went deep into the river and then stood chest deep for several minutes. Eventually he dropped into the water, and did not rise again.

Storm did not see this, as he was greedily filling his stomach with food. Not only was the food abundant, something his people hadn’t experienced for months, but it was tasty, with bits of stuff in it that the new people called roots. He was careful not to overeat, since he still had to fight the boy. He was gaining confidence as the food fueled his depleted reserves. These people were doing everything wrong. He might yet live. And even if he lost, his people would thrive, since being slaves and eating well is better than starving.

He saw that while his band was eating, the young girl he had noticed earlier was taking the youngest children of his band into the river. She spent 15 or 20 minutes with each in the water, and when they came out they appeared healthy and robust, even the ones who had been nearly dead from starvation.

It was two hours later, and Storm was wondering when the fight would occur. He hadn’t seen the boy in hours, and wondered if he may have fled in shame. All the people were at the riverbank when the young girl came out with Storm’s own baby son, who had been near death an hour ago, but who now seemed vibrant and happy as his mother took him from the girl.

Then there was a splash from the river, several dozen yards down from where the girl had taken the children. It was the boy, Storm realized. How had he stayed under the water so long? A reed?

As the boy clambered out of the river and up the bank there was a gasp from both bands. Even Flower was amazed. Her brother was now six inches taller, bigger than all the other hunters in the band. He was also more muscular. “I am ready,” he said in a voice that was identical to before.

Storm was confused. The boy looked the same. An older brother, perhaps? It didn’t matter. If it was a ruse, it had worked. The members of the new people seemed as shocked as he was. He still had to fight, although his confidence was waning. But a spear against a knife still left him with a big advantage. Now it was just a bigger target for him to attack.

Round led Storm to a clearing ringed by trees. The men of the bands were able to watch from between the trees, and one side was left open so that the women and children could also see, from further back.

Storm thrust his spear, and found that he missed with each thrust as his opponent dodged. He hoped that the boy thought he would throw the spear, leaving him defenseless if he missed. But Storm held the spear, even though it was frustrating as the boy continually avoided his thrusts. After several minutes the boy attacked, darting in after a missed thrust and sliced his knife into Storm’s leg.

Only a superficial cut, Storm realized once the shock of being blooded passed. But for his next three thrusts, the boy darted in and wounded him again and again. He was now bleeding from both arms and both legs. They boy was playing with him, Storm realized, and finally fear filled his face.

He made one last thrust, and this time the boy didn’t just dodge, but rolled onto the spear, snapping it in half. He kicked out as he rolled, and Storm went down. The boy was on him in a second, and before Storm knew, Round was sitting on his hips, with one hand on his shoulder, and the other holding the knife high above his head.

Storm tried to wriggle free, but the grip on his shoulder was stronger than any he had ever known. He prayed to the maker as the knife started to descend towards his chest, moving faster and faster.

There was a slapping sound, and Storm was amazed to still be alive. The boy had turned the knife at the last second, slapping his chest rather than puncturing it.

“You are dead,” Round said. Storm nodded his agreement.

“You are reborn,” Round said, and rolled off his chest.

Storm struggled to his knees as Round stood. “I am your slave,” he said, grateful to be alive.

“No. You are a mighty warrior who risked his life so that his people could survive. That is not a life meant to end so soon. And, with the permission of the chief,” Round looked at the old man, “I declare that your people should join our people, not as slaves, but as full members.”

The chief frowned again, but nodded his agreement. The boy, although now it appeared that he was a man, was clearly going to be the next chief, whenever he wanted to replace the old man. The chief was not going to force that inevitable confrontation.

Storm looked around as Round helped him to his feet. A moment ago, he was near death. Now he and his people were full members of the band. Round had refused to accept Storm as slave, but the older man decided then and there that he would be Round’s man for the rest of his life

It was a week later when two hunting parties went out. The new members of the band were healthy again, and the two groups were mixed so that the new hunters could learn how to hunt with wolves.

Back at the camp, the wife of the chief was irate to discover that Flower had taken a deerskin from Round’s supply and cut it into little pieces. She had hoped to be able to appropriate those skins to finish her wiigiwaam.

When the hunters returned, Flower called Round into their wiigiwaam. She helped him into the garments she had made. Round was a bit hesitant to leave the wiigiwaam, but shyly stepped out. Immediately silence fell on the crowd as he stood in front of the people.

“On his legs are giboodiyegwaazon (pants),” Flower said. “They will be much warmer in the winter, so he can go hunting even in the snow.” Unlike furs, the deerskin was wrapped closely around his waist, and divided to enclose each leg tightly. “On his feet are makizins. They let him run or walk much faster than bare feet. When winter comes, I have another pattern that will go up over the giboodiyegwaazon, keeping the snow out. And instead of loose furs, his chest and arms are covered by a babagiwayaan (shirt). This allows him to throw his spear more easily, and keeps him warmer, since the cold cannot creep in as easily as with furs when you are mobile.”

“You can teach us to make these?” the chief’s wife said. “How do you come up with such ideas?”

“These come from the river,” Flower said. “The river is Manitou, who some here call the creator. Manitou has chosen us as her people, and we must protect the land, and the beings on it. It chose us because we have partnered with the wolves. We now are the keepers of this valley.”

“You will start with makizins,” she continued. “Hopefully we can have a pair for every hunter by the time the next hunt occurs. Before winter we will have to make the other garments. As well as building wiigiwaams. We will be busy.”

That evening a meeting of the warriors was called. One young boy, who had gone on his first hunt with the men, was thrust into the circle. It was one of the boys who had come with Storm.

“This one is no man,” one of Storm’s hunters said. “When it came time to skin and gut the deer we brought down, he threw up, and then pissed himself. And we don’t like the way he stares at us. We feel he is two-spirited.”

Round looked to Storm. “This was one of your men. How would you deal with this?”

“We ban him from the band, and if he comes back, he can be killed by anyone who sees him.”

Round thought for a minute, then called for Flower. “Here we will do it differently.”

With that Flower took the boy and led him to the river. “The river will decide how to deal with this,” Round said.

The men continued to talk for another two hours until Round heard Flower call out from the river. All the men rose, and with the rest of the band, they headed to the riverbank. A pile of furs lay on the bank, and Flower led a naked girl out of the water.

The men watching were in awe. The girl was beyond pretty, with long black hair to mid back, full, firm breasts, and a shapely figure. It was only when her shapely hips rose out of the water that the men gasped. In one particular area she was male.

And well endowed in that area as well, many of the women of the band noticed.

“This is Maia,” Flower announced, and many of the people were confused at the strange sounding name. “Maia is to be treated as a woman, and is one in all but one respect. The river has decided that she will be our healer, and has given her much knowledge of herbs, medicines, and salves. She is important to the people, and is to be treated with respect.”

“Where shall she live?” a woman asked.

“She will join our wiigiwaam,” Flower said. “She is not a wife of Roundstones, however. He is not yet ready to choose.” There was a groan of disappointment from several of the younger women. “Maia will have urges, but will only sleep with women who are past the age of childbearing.”

Once she had been dressed in borrowed furs Maia began immediately scouring the area, collecting herbs and roots. For a while many of the people were cold towards the new person, who really didn’t seem to fit into the normal structure of the band. But a half moon after the Longest Night celebrations this all changed. A hunting party had gone out in force to bring in more game for the pots after the celebration feast. At this time less than half of men were wearing the new deerskin clothing, with the others in furs. All had makizins by now, however. And Round, his uncle, and three others had a new oil treatment of their skins that the river had provided through Flower.

The weather changed halfway through the hunt. The temperature rose, and then the snow changed to rain, soaking all the hunters, but with those in furs suffering the most. Round and the other four who had skins treated with beaver oil were driest. Round abandoned the hunt with only one smallish deer taken, and by the time the men returned to camp, nine were very sick.

It was the water-nose illness, which was very uncomfortable but seldom fatal. However many times this illness progressed to the coughing illness, which killed over half those who got it. As soon as the men returned, Maia learned of the illness, and ordered all those afflicted into two wiigiwaams, with the regular occupants of those dwellings moving to other places. At this time about half of the people in the band were living in wiigiwaams, while the rest were in the older lean-to shelters.

Maia spent the next two days moving back and forth between the shelters, concocting a poultice that she smeared on the chests of the men, and another that was spread around the nostrils, preventing the chafing that resulted from water-nose. The result was that all nine men were cured within two suns, when it was more normal for the disease to last for a hand of suns. They were weak and sleepy for another day or two, but the water-nose was gone.

Unfortunately, three others in the band picked up the disease as the men were recovering, and one of the wiigiwaams was kept a little longer as a hospital. Also, the young son of one of the hunters also got the disease. These were treated as the others had been, with the difference that the boy of five winters was in Maia’s arms almost the entire two days. But all recovered, and it was considered a miracle that none got the coughing disease. From that time forth Maia was considered a valued and important member of the band, respected and honored by all. For over a hand of days she had not slept, treating the ill continually, only going to the river two or three times a day to refresh.

It was in early spring that the decision point came. The old chief started talking about packing up and moving back to the old hunting grounds. Round asked for a circle to discuss the move. At the circle he made an impassioned plea to have the band remain by the river. He pointed out that there was ample food in the area. The new wiigiwaams were bulky and would be hard to move. The band was much larger, and moving such a group would be difficult. The wolves liked the area, and were partners of the band.

The old chief responded simply with the argument that this is the way it has always been.

A show of hands around the circle showed that most of the men supported Round’s decision, with only a few of the older men backing the chief.

“This is it then,” the old chief said. “My time is past and I need to move aside to let the young bloods take over. I cede the chief position to Round, or whoever else may wish to claim it. My day is over.”

“No grandfather,” Round exclaimed. “Do not think that way. You have been a wonderful leader of the people, and should continue. You have always listened to the counsel of others, and accepted the will of the majority. You have much wisdom that I, and many others, have yet to gain. I ask you to remain as chief.”

The old man smiled at the compliments from the young man that he already had recognized as the new leader of the people. Now he was making the transition an honorable one. “No, my son,” he said. “It is time for me to make way for the young leaders. I personally nominate Round as the next chief of the people.”

All around the circle there were exclamations of support for the idea, but Round held up his hands. “I will not accept the position that belongs to our grandfather. I will accept a lower position of war chief. Not that I expect us to have to go to war, unless others try to take our land from us. You shall remain chief, and I will be war chief, under your counsel.”

The result pleased all. The men then went back to the women to tell them what had been decided. The women nodded sagely, having known what was going to happen before. Flower had already told them, passing on what the river had told her.

A week later Flower spoke to the men in their circle. She proposed a contest, to see which man was the most fit. The contest would have the men use a digging stick to break up the soil in a clearing. The men, bored between hunts, avidly adopted the contest, and the next morning Flower was at the site with five digging sticks. These were sticks that had a branch coming out, cut back but allowing a man to put his foot on the joint and force the stick into the ground. The man then twisted the stick, pulling it out and then moving to the next spot.

Flower made rules. There would be five men at a time competing. The holes had to be adjacent to each other, and sufficiently deep. A man could continue in his line as long as he was able, and then another man would take the stick and continue. Flower would declare the winner. If Flower found the lines too long, she would start another set of five.

The men lined up, with both Round and his uncle among the first five. At Flower’s word, they started to dig. The other men stood around and cheered, and all the women and children were also there to see the competition. Round and his uncle were the last of the original five still competing. One of the other rows was on its third warrior, and the other two were on their second. But Round and his uncle refused to give up before the other, until the uncle finally dropped to the ground. Round dug one more hole, then passed his stick on to another and also fell to the ground, exhausted.

The competition went on until the sun was well up in the sky, and most of the men had participated. Beartooth was the only one who had dug as much as Round and his uncle, and Flower claimed him to be the winner, not wanting to name a family member as champion.

The men headed off to their circle to discuss the competition, tired but enthused. Flower and four of her friends then went to the clearing with baskets of roots, cut into small pieces, and started to drop the pieces into the holes the men had turned out. Finally, they made a fence around the area from broken branches, and called it a garden.

In spring the wolves were birthing, and Flower took Maia to a she-wolf that Ma'iingan said was having problems. The river told Maia to prepare a salve, and she rubbed it onto the belly of the she-wolf, and it soon felt less pain, and eventually gave birth to nine cubs. One of the cubs was undersized, and was pushed aside by the others who latched onto their mother’s eight teats. Maia’s heart went out to the tiny cub. She too had once been the small, shunned one among her people.

Ma'iingan said that the cub would soon die, so Maia begged for the small being. The she-wolf assented. It was small payment for what Maia had done for her, and she was more concerned with her eight healthy cubs.

Maia took the tiny cub away with her, and chewed on a stick of dried venison until her saliva was rich with the meat juices. She then dribbled this into the mouth of the cub, who lapped it up. She continued this for days, and the cub thrived. She named him Pup, a small name for a small wolf. Pup never did grow as large as the other cubs, and did not play in their games of dominance, instead preferring to hide in Maia’s skirts. Soon the other cubs grew into adult wolves, but Pup remained half their size. The next year Maia sought out another runt, and raised him the same way. These two were the first dogs of the people, and co-existed with the wolves more as cousins than brothers. So long as the dogs never tried to dominate the wolves, they were let be, and became closer to the people then the wolves ever would be.

During the time when Maia was nursing Pup, Flower was given a new gift by the river. She hurriedly told Round, who was just as enthusiastic about the idea. There was a lot of trial and error in the process, but eventually Round had a branch of wood that had a piece of strong gut holding the two ends in an arc. Then, he could pull the gut and use it to propel a smaller stick, called a bikwak, away from him.

The other warriors laughed as the stick went five or six yards at first. But Round persisted, and made better bows, and used straighter sticks, eventually taking a tip from the river and attaching feathers to one end. Soon he could send a bikwak clear across the river. A spear could also be thrown that far, but not with much accuracy, but Round found that his bikwaks were much more accurate, and with practice would be deadly. Except that at that distance they had little power. He managed to hit a raccoon on the opposite bank of the river, and the bikwak just bounced off. The raccoon stared at him in annoyance, and them ambled away.

That was when Round went to Stoneman, the tribe toolmaker, and asked for a dozen small spearheads, so that he could attach these to his bikwaks. He had to demonstrate his bow and the pointless bikwaks. Stoneman immediately saw the power of the tool, and started to make bikwak points.

While Stoneman was working, Round continued to refine the tool. The other warriors were no longer teasing him, but started building their own bows and bikwaks. The weapon proved its use at the next hunt. Three of the hunters had bows, and bikwaks with points lashed to them with rabbit gut. Two deer were dropped with bikwaks without ever getting within spear range.

With the assistance of wolves it was a rare event for a hunt not to result in multiple deer being caught. But one such event happened, and a bedraggled group of hunters walked hungrily into camp one day, expecting to have nothing but roots to eat. Instead, they found a feast of fish on the fire, and joined in.

Flower had been quietly making baskets for the past half moon, and had finished up a new design given her by the river. She had placed five of the baskets in the river in various spots, and when she checked in the afternoon, she found two or three juicy trout in each one. The tribe had run out of venison several days before, and she decided to fry up the fish while waiting for the men to return.

It was the following day when the peace in the camp was shattered by a blood-curdling scream. The people all ran towards the sound, and discovered Stoneman, with his hand crushed between two huge pieces of flint. He continued to scream until he passed out from the pain.

All the warriors tried to lift the top stone, but it was too heavy. Then Flower appeared, with two branches a bit thicker than a warrior’s wrist. She had the men poke the branches into crevasses between the stones, and then put all their weight on the far ends of the branches. Slowly the top stone budged, and then was pried up enough that Stoneman’s hand could be removed.

The unconscious man was carried to the river, where Maia was waiting. He was laid on the healing space, where his flattened hand was able to rest in the water. Most of the tribe assumed that Stoneman would not survive, and if he did his smashed hand would never again wield a tool. This would be a huge loss to the band. The demand for bikwak points was so high that he had taken on two apprentice toolmakers, but they would not be able to take over yet.

But over the next two days Maia stayed in the river with his hand on her lap, and he slept on. On the third day he woke with a start, and pulled his hand from the water. It was whole again, and actually looked younger than the other one.

Maia wouldn’t let him return to his flint beds for two more days, as he regained his strength. When he did, he found the stone that had injured him, still with the two branches between the pieces. Flower explained what had happened, and the levers immediately enthralled Stoneman. He placed his apprentices on the two poles, and when the stone moved he started to have ideas. He got longer and thicker poles, and wedged them deeper into the crack, lifting the top stone higher.

Then he got brave, and placed a two-fist sized piece of granite between the stones, as far in as he could place it, risking his hand again.

“You know,” Flower said. “It would have been a lot smarter if you had used a stick to push that stone in. No need to risk flattening another hand. The river might not be so kind as to fix it when stupidity caused it, rather than accident.”

Stoneman looked at the girl, and then realized she was right, and gave a foolish grin. “So now we pull out the sticks,” he told his apprentices.

They did and nothing happened. The apprentices were sent to the top of the stone, and made to jump on either end, but still nothing, although the stone could be made to tip about on top of the granite rock, which amused the apprentices to no end.

“Well, we tried,” Stoneman said. “Let’s head off for lunch, and when we come back we will use the old method of bashing the stone with rocks to break it.

But when they did return from eating, they found that the flint stone had split into three on the rock, and the pieces could easily be pried up and again allowed to fall onto the granite stone. Sometimes it took five or six tries, but slowly the huge slab of granite was broken into pieces small enough for a man to carry, greatly increasing the productivity of the toolmakers.

Later that year Flower told Round that it was time that he take a wife. He had passed his birth time, so was now 13 winters old. Young for a warrior to marry, but he had the size of a grown man. Flower had noticed that many of the young girls in the band were refusing invitations from other warriors in hopes of landing the war chief. He grudgingly agreed, and Flower made an announcement to all the maidens of the band. The selection would take place at the river at dawn the next day.

There were 11 girls at the river the next morning, eager for the chance to be first wife of the war chief. Even some of the girls who were not yet blooded were there, and were allowed to participate. Flower led Round deep into the middle of the river, and then announced that the first girl to reach him would be his wife.

The girls leapt into the water and started towards him. Some even made it three steps into the river before the icy cold caused them to retreat to the banks. Soon there were only three girls moving towards him. Two were of his age, one was younger than Flower.

The river had warmed the water slightly for these three, who it found acceptable mates for the young man. But the water was still deathly cold, and it took determination for the girls to continue. But they all did. In the end it was the youngest girl who made it to him first, followed seconds later by the other two. Instantly the water around them warmed to a comfortable level.

“The river has chosen,” Flower announced. “Little Doe was first, but she is not of age yet. She will be accorded status as a wife, but will not mate with Round until she comes of age. She will be able to help care for the babies that will come from Dove and Birch soon. These two will share the duties of first wife. Neither will be above the other. The river seeks harmony, and if these two can work together, with Doe to join them eventually as an equal partner, then Round will have a blessed life.”

That night Round slept with both girls, moving between one and the other so that none of them knew which was impregnated first. A week later Maia announced that both of them carried his children.

As well, five other girls accepted warriors that evening, and three others by the end of the moon.

Two years later the old chief died, and again Round refused to take over the position of chief. Instead he insisted on his uncle taking the job. It would be 19 more years before the uncle died and Round was acclaimed the chief, with his eldest son (Dove’s) becoming war chief. Birch’s first child had been a girl, and had her choice of warrior boys to marry, eventually choosing one.

Ma'iingan had died long before, and after his death the partnership between the wolves and the people had slowly waned. The people still left small shares from their kills for the wolves, who no longer knew why they were honored in this way. After the death of Round, even this was discontinued.

Round had decreed that Ma'iingan should now be the word for wolf in Ojibwe, and the old word forgotten. Maia’s dogs were now predominant within the band, and most families had one or two.

By Manitou, as told to Mark Waters through the river.