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Authors: Eric Walters

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BOOK: War of the Eagles
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“Wow,” I gasped.

“Murdock must have been in his glory,” Smitty noted.

“Actually, he spent most of the time face down in the gutter.”

“Murdock! What happened?”

Rylance shook his head slowly. “I almost had it all sorted out and then Murdock comes busting in swear–ing and pushing and acting like a big shot. He pushed this guy, a little guy, an Indian, and the guy decides to push back. Before I knew it Murdock is toppling over like a redwood.” A smile came to his face. “It was the only part of the evening I enjoyed.”

“You didn't happen to take any pictures, did you?”

Smitty chuckled.

Rylance burst into laughter and then grabbed his jaw. “Ooooww, that hurts … please, no more jokes.”

“Or maybe you could re-stage it and we could sell tickets,” Smitty continued.

Rylance started chuckling again, his hands still on his jaw.

“Anybody seriously hurt?”

“Nobody died. A minor stab wound. A couple of concussions. Of course, when these guys wake up tomor–row, between the hangovers and the major, they might wish they had died.”

.7.

Reveille. I rolled off the couch, stood up and went to the window. It was still dark out, as usual, but somehow it seemed to be a deeper dark. The trumpet continued to blare away, louder and longer, and it almost sounded angry. After getting in so late with Smitty last night, I spent the night at the base. My mother came out of her room.

“Why doesn't somebody tell him to go back to bed?” she muttered. “Doesn't he know what time it is?”

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Four-thirty.”

“Four-thirty! Why so early?”

“Beats me. I'd better get dressed and start breakfast, it looks like things are beginning earlier than usual today.” She went to get changed.

I pulled on my shirt, buttoned it up and slipped into my moccasins. Outside I could hear people stirring and moving around. There were voices yelling out directions. I opened the door and moved out onto the walkway. The air was cool and goose bumps exploded on my arms. I leaned against the railing. It was sopping with dew. On the parade ground I saw outlines in the thin dim light spilling out of the windows of the barracks.

Within a few minutes there was complete silence. The men were assembled and stood at attention, wait–ing. Nobody dared move or speak. I sat, quietly, feeling like if I breathed too loudly everybody would turn in my direction. The silent vigil went on for about fifteen minutes before a lieutenant emerged from the major's office. He walked along the walkway, the sounds of his boots echoing off the surrounding buildings. He stopped on an elevated section directly overlooking the parade grounds where the men were assembled.

“At ease!” he ordered.

There was a shuffling of feet but no other noise.

“The following men are to report immediately to the mess hall.”

He started to rattle off names. I went in to offer my mother some help in setting up for breakfast. I figured I could slip in quietly and hear everything that was going to be said during the meeting.

“I'm back. What can I do to help?”

“You mean, what can you do so you can hear what's going on, don't you?”

“Well … can't I do both?” I replied.

She smiled at me. “Take the trays and the plates out. Walk quietly. Don't look at them no matter what. Ignore them. Just pretend nobody's there. Okay? Do you think you can do that?”

“Sure, no problem. I know how to ignore people. I'm a teenager. I'll just pretend it's you telling me to do something.”

“Smart-aleck kid.”

I heard the front door open and the sound of boots scuffling along the wooden floor. I picked up an arm–ful of trays and went into the dining area. Sitting at the far end, together at a single table, were the soldiers I'd briefly seen last night. I looked at them out of the corner of my eye. I put down the trays and turned back into the kitchen. Walking back with my second load of trays, I saw the whole group had their eyes trained down on the floor or table top. There was a barely audible murmur of conversation. I'd been pretending they weren't there, but now I realized they were praying they were some place else. I heard the door open.

“Attention!”

Their chairs scraped against the floor as they jumped up. I perked up my ears as I disappeared into the kitchen.

“At ease. Please be seated,” Major Brown said. “I will not be mincing my words, gentlemen. You are all in sig–nificant trouble. I have arrived at an understanding with the local RCMP commander, in a late night meeting, to withdraw any pending criminal charges. I convinced him that any punishment I shall mete out to you will greatly exceed anything the courts would impose. And believe me, gentlemen, that was not simply a promise but a total guarantee. Does anybody have anything to say for themselves?”

There was no answer.

“I asked, does anybody have anything to say for themselves?” he said again, this time in a much louder, more stern voice.

“No, sir,” came a soft response. “No excuses, sir,” another offered.

“Good. Perhaps you couldn't act as soldiers last night, but you will take your punishment as soldiers. I have received the initial estimates for the damages done. This includes a new plate glass window for the Royal, a dozen broken chairs, and damages to an RCMP patrol car. The total cost will be equally divided amongst you fourteen gentlemen, starting with your next pay. But you won't be needing money because there is nowhere on base to spend money and none of you will be seeing anything except this base for the foreseeable future. I direct you now to the bulletin board where you will see your work assignments posted. Dismissed.”

The men shuffled out of the mess hall. The door closed and then, silence. The only sounds were the skillet sizzling in the kitchen and my moccasins softly meeting the floor. Major Brown looked up at me as I re-entered the dining area with another load.

“Jed, do you think you could get me a coffee?”

“Yes, sir.”

My mother must have heard his request because as I entered the kitchen she was already holding a cup. “He takes it hot, black, no sugar,” she said quietly.

I carried the mug back to the major's table and set it down carefully in front of him. He was staring down at the table. I turned and started to walk away.

“Jed.”

I stopped. “Yes, sir?”

“What did you think of all that?”

“All what?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Come on, you're neither deaf nor dumb. What did you think of what went on in Rupert last night?”

“It's not my place to say anything.”

“But it is your place to answer a question. I'm asking a question.”

I swallowed hard and thought harder. He sat there, staring up at me, waiting.

“I don't understand all of it,” I said. “I only know the bit I saw by accident last night, a little bit I was told, and what I overheard today. It wouldn't be right for me to give you an answer without knowing more.”

He took a long sip from his coffee. He put the cup down very deliberately and looked directly at me. “That is probably the smartest thing ever said in this mess hall. Mid-day there will be a meeting here, between me, the RCMP commander and one of the Tsimshian elders, George Star. Do you know him?”

“I've met him a couple of times. He was a friend of my grandfather. Sometimes he'd come by the house.”

“Do you think he can be helpful in sorting out some of our problems?”

“Everyone says he's really smart. He's well respected.

The Tsimshian listen to him.”

“Good, then it was wise to have him be part of this meeting. I would like you to stick around and hear what is going to go on at the meeting. Maybe after that you can answer my question.”

My mother came out of the kitchen and motioned for me to start working again.

“I'll try, sir. Is there anything else, sir, or can I get back to helping my mother get ready for breakfast?”

“Please, don't let me take you away from your work. You and your mother are the only two people in the whole camp, including myself, who I know for sure are actually doing their jobs well. That reminds me.” The major turned to face my mother. “Mrs. Blackburn, do you think it's possible to get a few more people to hunt for us? I'll give them the same offer as your son's.”

“Does that deal include jackets as well? Jed's cousins have been eyeing that jacket of his.”

“That should be no problem. An army issue jacket for each of them.”

“Then it might be possible. Probably not any of the men, though. Too busy working down in Rupert. Some of them have two or even three jobs. But, I'm sure one or two of Jed's cousins would be interested.”

“Excellent, excellent!”

“While we're talking help, I could sure use an extra hand in the kitchen.”

“That shouldn't be difficult. I know of fourteen can–didates for the position,” Major Brown said firmly.

“Nope. Rather have no help than that help. I want somebody who's there by choice.”

“Somebody like Jed?”

“Yep. Another helper like Jed.”

“Arrange it,” Major Brown agreed. “Arrange it.” He rose and left the mess hall.

Mother answered with a smile and went back into the kitchen to continue getting breakfast ready. I fol–lowed in after her.

“Any ideas who can help?” I asked.

“Couple. Maybe Jonnie … maybe Peter.”

“How about Tadashi?”

“Tadashi? I didn't know he could hunt.”

“I'm sure he can,” I replied, although I was pretty sure he couldn't. I knew he didn't even own a gun, but I could loan him my old rifle. “But I know he'd be good here in the kitchen. He's a hard worker, polite, and does what he's told and …”

“Sounds good. Maybe I should hire him and get rid of the guy I've got helping me now.”

“Mother!”

She started laughing. She had the most wonderful laugh, and it wasn't just me who thought so. My father and mother met at a Legion dance. He'd told me how he heard her laugh float across the room. He couldn't see her, just hear the laugh. He trailed after the laughter until he saw her. She kidded him that it wasn't love at first sight but love at first sound.

“Talk to your cousins tomorrow. I guess you won't be seeing Tadashi until school on Monday.”

“Couldn't I maybe go and talk to him later today? Maybe after supper?” I'd been spending so much time at the base that I really hadn't seen much of Tadi and I missed him. “It would be nice to have him hanging around here with me.”

“Hanging around? Don't think I'm hiring anybody to hang around.”

“You know what I mean,” I protested.

“Go, right after you help with meal prep. I know you've been missing him.”

“Thanks. It's going to be great to have him around.”

“Don't count your chickens just yet. How do you know he'll even be interested?”

“He can use the money,” I answered. I knew he was saving for university.

“We'd better finish getting things set. Have you taken care of your eagle this morning?”

“I'll do that right now,” I said.

“Good. It's bad enough I've got all these men to feed without me having to go out there and take care of that bird when you're not here.”

It didn't take us long to clear up after the lunch crowd. It was a smaller than usual gathering since there were two squads of men who were either deep in the forest digging a new garbage pit, or working on the road lead–ing out of camp. Rather than warm lunches, they'd be eating meals packed when they left after breakfast.

At a few minutes to two, Major Brown entered the mess hall. He walked around absentmindedly before coming back into the kitchen.

“Mrs. Blackburn, could you please put on a fresh pot of coffee?”

“Sure thing, Major. I just finished baking a berry pie.

Still hot, sitting there on the window sill, cooling down.

How about I bring out a piece to all three of you?”

“That won't be necessary,” he answered. “These gentlemen are coming here for a serious discussion, not a social tea.”

“A little food never hurt anything. Good food can get rid of a lot of bad tastes.”

“Tsimshian logic?” he asked.

“It works.”

“I'm sure it does. Do we have any ice cream, maybe vanilla, to go along with it?”

“I'll see what we can do.”

At precisely two o'clock the door to the mess hall opened again and in strode the commander of the lo–cal detachment of the RCMP. His polished boots made a staccato sound as he moved across the hall to shake hands with the major.

“Good day, Major,” he said formally. “I trust you had an opportunity to get a few hours sleep after our meeting.”

“A few, just a few.”

BOOK: War of the Eagles
6.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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