The Bellwether by James W. Nelson - HTML preview

We have a different relationship then I had hoped for, more businesslike than anything. Maybe thats because of my colony-talk and her stubborn refusal to consider it anything beyond a summer camp. Time will tell, I guess. I hope.

Then he went on to say he hoped for a sooner return letter than his to them, that he planned staying in Vellingham, likely buying the property he had always wanted, then signed his name, penned corrections, and asked Brett to say a special „Hi to Terri.

Finished, he was surprised to see he had written six pages, then decided to mail it right away and maybe drop in on Taylor Magellan.

****
After entering McSauds Aaron reflected that the group of motorcycles parked outside were probably the same ones parked there three months earlier. The pinball machine was still being played and cussed. Groups of men and women in colors were still sitting, standing, a loud group in the same left-hand corner, looked like, as Taylor had said, a different woman with them, only this one dressed sexier, and her hair longer and curly.

He moved to the bar and ordered a can of beer, which came quickly. He paid and headed for the table in the far right-hand corner. TaylorMagellans table. Already at ten a.m. his friend was hanging onto a bottle for dear life, same as before.

An increase in loudness from the left corner made him glance that way, and he noticed a familiar pot-gut on an unhealthy-looking man. Mallory Spicer, the same guy who drove the silver-blue-white pickup of Luther Helms. No way he would forget those wild-looking eyes.

“Aaron…!”

He forgot the pot-gutted man as the greeting from Taylor stirred a memory of terrible violence within a few hours after hearing it the last time. But, anyway, it was high time Taylor Magellan learned about the colony idea, “Lo, Taylor.”

For the next two hours he held the floor and told Taylor everything from Four Crows on. Taylor listened, shook his head often, and at times spoke in agreement. It soon became apparent that the ex-soldier would back him one hundred percent, but then most anything would be better than the life the man had presently, and, likely, if the man had a good reason for living again he might just make some changes, “So thats about the story, my friend.” Aaron motioned for more beer, his third or fourth he thought, “All but where you fit in.”

“Figured you had something in mind for me, Aaron. Just name it.”

“Colony self -defense. Explosives. Mortars, maybe, fifty-caliber machine guns, automatic rifles—”
“Throwaway rocket launchers, “ Taylor interjected.
“Throwaway?”
“Yep. Something you probably didnt see much in the supply depots. An efficient little weapon, Aaron, and itll sometimes stop even a tank.”
“A…tank…?”
Taylor cocked his head, then waited while the beer arrived.
Aaron paid, then pushed one of the bottles across the table.
“If you want protection for that colony of yours, you might as well be serious about it and think offensive. With a few throwaways plus what youve named, you could do it.”
“Id hoped to never have to go on the offensive, Taylor, but, as you say, I guess Id like to be able to.”
“And another thing,” Taylorsaid, straightening up, “Id question getting a bunch of automatic rifles.”
Aaron hunched his shoulders, opened his hands.
“Its the people you named, little buddy.” Taylor picked up the bottle, took a long drink, “Aint one ofem who could grab an automatic and just start firing. Theyd need training, and I reckon you know theyre illegal for civilians to own.”
“I know that, Taylor, so, what do you suggest?”
“Well, for mortars and such we could have silent training sessions, but for the rest Id say just their regular guns. Lever-actions, boltactions, shotguns, handguns, course Id get you an M- 16, if you wanted it.”
“Now thatyou mention it Id rather use a lever action too.”
“Sounds good, Aaron.” Taylor leaned back andchuckled, “Id like a lever-action right close by too, and heres another thing. Youd need a truckload of ammo to supply a bunch of automatic rifles.”
Caroline said to get feedback. Thats what he was doing. He felt encouraged and wondered if she would be happy that he felt encouraged, and too that he had gotten the feedback about guns…but likely she wasnt too crazy about guns. “Could you get those things, then, Taylor?”
“Id have to check around,” Tayloradmitted, “But I am acquainted with a few, possibly shady, characters. But if you say go, Ill feelem out.”
“Right, this is just something Im thinking about. It could take some time.”
“What if you didnt havetime?”
Aaron had spoken the same warning to Brett Haberman. He remembered the same effect too. Speechlessness. No answer, again. What could possibly happen to cause time to be a real issue? Yet, that was his reason for a colony, that time and choices wouldbe the issue, “I guess, Taylor, that we would have to work on the premise that we would have time, at least some, at least for right now. But I appreciate you saying that.”
No, he did not appreciate it. Time was the issue, and that knowledge—even though he had no knowledge—gave him a helpless feeling. He washelpless, “But between you, me, and Brett, we willget something going.”
“Just let me know when youre ready, little buddy.” Taylor laughed again, “I think itd be a real challenge.”
“OK!” Aaron rose, pushed the chair under the table, and wavered slightly, “Goodnight!” and started for the exit.
“Goodnight, little buddy!” Taylor called after him.“Hey! Its morning, man!”
Aaron waved and realized he was a little off on his time of day. Likely would have trouble staying awake that night at work. As he made his way to the door he grasped an occasional back of a chair, not that he was drunk, exactly, but that he had gone from sitting to walking a little too quickly. He didnt notice the pot-gutted man leaving through a rear door either, and had he noticed he likely wouldnt have thought anything of it.
****
Aaron felt elated and slightly tipsy as he moved out onto the stuffy and near-deserted street. Old Paint was parked by the post office, just two blocks away. He liked August, even if it did get hot, for the heat meant crops were ripening. Some were late that year because of the drought. According to Kelly Bolander, only one more year of little rain could be stood. Area farmers who didnt practice any organic methods were already in trouble even the prior year. Much land already stood idle, dry and cracked. Even the giant irrigation wheels werent making much difference, except sending precious water down, eventually, to the Mississippi, but too nice a day to dwell on unpleasantness.
A shadow swept past his feet, then another. He looked up. A flight of sea gulls, maybe twenty or thirty. He kept walking, and watching them, then glanced east, toward Old Paint just a block away. He stepped down from the curb to cut across the street, tottered slightly, and caught himself.
“Hodges…!”
Danger on that balmy day was the furthest thing from his mind. With a smile he turned toward the voice, and the alley somewhatin shadow, “Yes, my good man. What can I do for you?”
“You can step back in the alley here.”
Aaron lurched in that direction and felt his head spin but also sobering a bit. He saw the man, a glint of gun metal, and the gut, that malnourished pot-gut.
“Just move on in here,” the man said, clearly advertising the gun, “Just walk. Ill give directions.”
Aaron obeyed, but jerked his eyes around for any escape route, and felt his head clearing really quickly, the tipsiness being replaced by adrenalin.
“Reckon it dont matter if I fill you in a bit, Hodges. Even if you aint too conspiratorial in your ways, a man has a right to know who wants him shut up.”
Conspiratorial? Shut up?
“Course I dont know names, but it seems some people dont appreciate you helping out certain injuns—and I dont either!”
Caleb Conrad. Probably traced him with his W-2.
Aaron knew a train was due any second. Even though it was over two blocks away its whistle might just give him an edge. He would have about two seconds to act.
“I got nuthin personal against Injuns, ya understand. Ijust plain dont likeem, and the countrys goin broke keepinem all on welfare!”
Stall. “They arent exactly on welfare,” Aaron said, “And a good many have made contributions to this country, and what gives a few white peoplethe idea they can play God?” Play God? Wasnt that what he intended to do with his colony-idea?
“Spicers the name, and those people—whoever they are—and theres a good many right here in Minnesota, and theyve invited me to join in their little cause to helpem rid the country of the scum—”
Wherererererer!
Aaron swept his hat off and knocked the gun from Spicers hand. They both dived in the direction of the clattering. Aaron was off-balance the most but kicked the gun further, and slipped, but was able to slam his fist into Spicers neck, then fell to his knees.
Spicer grunted and fell to one knee but jumped up quickly and kicked Aaron in the ribs, and twice more. Aaron finally grabbed Spicers foot and went down, bringing Spicer down on topof him, the mans knee going into his stomach. Aaron yelped and released him, rolled over, then back to his knees but grimaced as a sharp pain suggested a cracked rib.
“Fuckin Injun lover!” Spicer snarled as he leaped to his feet.
Aaron remained on his knees, watching as the man moved in, and felt sure the man had seen his pained movement. The groin was unprotected. He had never struck a man in the groin, but Spicer evidently was there to kill him. The man got blurry as he drew his foot back to kick again. Aaron gathered all his constitution, then threw himself, his head, into Spicers groin.
A scream!
The man doubled over, cursing. Holding his pained side Aaron got to his feet and slammed his fist into Spicers head, the temple area and felt it give, and felt his hand, his knuckles, give, too, but hit him again in the same spot, and again.
Spicer dropped to his hands and knees. Head whirling, side hurting more with every blow, Aaron kept hitting the man again and again, then his hand collapsed.
Spicer settled to the ground and lay still.
Dizzily, Aaron lurched around, found his hat, then found the gun, grasped it and returned to the still body. He closed one eye and aimed the gun at the long-haired greasy head and stared down the short barrel.
He stayed thus for several seconds, aiming, and knew the only answer for this malnourished man was death. He also knew the law did not decree it that way, not the method, but also knew the law would let the man go, unpunished, to attempt killing again.
Heart thundering in his ears he pulled the hammer back, heard it click into place. His mind spun into a possibly-near future when men with guns would proclaim the law, enforce the law, and carry out the law. He tightened on the trigger. His armpits and crotch felt watery and sweaty.
Spicer moved, and groaned.
Aaron pulled up on the gun and used both hands to release the hammer. Then he felt the tightness, his temporary hate, whatever it was, fizzle and leave him as a lowering of body temperature. He slipped the gun into an inside pocket of his vest jacket, turned, and painfully started in the direction of Old Paint.
Spicer had to have done this with orders from Caleb Conrad. But why, exactly? And he doubted Spicer got his orders direct, which meant a local middle man, but who? And why? And what good would killing Aaron Hodges possiblydo for Caleb Conrad and Stim? There didnt appear to be any easy answers, and bringing in the local law would do no good at all.
Chapter 16
Carolines Indoctrination

“Oh, its pretty, Mom!” Jennie exclaimed.

Caroline stopped her car about thirty feet from a one-story cabin, then hugged her daughter closely, and silently agreed.
Jennie was referring to the sudden clearing in the forest. They had just come from a narrow, forest-darkened, winding road. The weathered cabin sat about three hundred feet back from the lake. Another log building had a pen with white-belted black hogs. A white horse with gray legs and gray rump dapples stood tethered near dark green pines and white-barked birch. About three dozen multi-breed hens were running and scratching about doing last-minute feeding. Maybe a dozen small children played on the lakeshore skipping stones out across gentle but heightening waves that lapped at their feet.
A dark-skinned man, his hair white and black with a dark headband, waist-long braids that hung over a dark and dusty overcoat, sat by the corner of the cabin facing the lake. A young woman wearing faded blue jeans and a green print top, was tugging on his arm.
Massive white-gray thunderheads towered over the lake, their dark bases overshadowing everything with sheets of rain hanging and erratic lightening dancing on the water, thunder rumbling, causing Caroline to wonder if the storm meant an end to the drought that was plaguing Minnesota worse than anywhere else.
She pushed the car door open and felt the wind that had grown colder during the few minutes from Embrace Lakes general store where she had gotten directions. She stepped out and held out her hands, “Lets go, Jennie.”
Jennie crawled into the offered arms and wrapped herself around her mother, and accepted the blanket thrown around her but the right leg stuck out like a skinny stick.
An explosive, colder gust hit them, and light sprinkles of rain.
Caroline started toward the two Indians by the cabins corner, and continued watching the children skipping stones, and heard their laughter above the wind, above the waves, above her classmate, “Grandfather, You must come inside! Youll catch pneumonia!”
But the old man answered, “You young people cannot appreciate nature by cowering before a fire! You must livenature!”
“Hello…,” Caroline called from about ten feet away.
The young Indian woman glanced up and smiled, then turnedback to the old man, “Your company is here, Grandfather. Surely you dont want her to get wet!”
The old man faced Caroline. Something other than a smile came over his features but definitely not hostility, more like a subtle nod to a returning comrade. For one second she felt like a great Indian chief greeting another.
“Ah,” the old man said, “You must be Caroline, from the great white school.”
“I am.” Caroline began to shiver and not completely from the growing chill but also from the wisdom manifesting from the old Indians eyes, the brown children playing in the lakes surf that was beginning to pound, the approaching storm, the pristine wilderness, the envisioned savagery. She couldnt exactly place her strange emotions, just felt wildly exhilarated, and very, very, happy.
“Come!” The old man got up and moved toward the cabins side door with the spryness of someone half his age of at least eighty or ninety, “This weather is only for ducks and Indian children!”
The Indian woman smiled as the old man disappeared inside and shook her head, “When Grandfather was younger he would run naked in the midst of a storm and bathe, and turn cartwheels, and scream at the sky. He was a true child of the storm gods then, but you go in, Caroline,” she said, still shaking her head, “Ill gather the children. Theyre trying to be like their grandfather.”
Caroline watched as her classmate hurried toward the lake, where the waves were pounding higher and higher, and she felt the wind blowing harder and colder, and she saw the brilliant lightening flashes and heard the instantaneous crashes of thunder. But far, far out on the lake it appeared to be calm, as if the lake were embracing the storm.
She felt another uncontrived shiver, a surge as she reached for the door. ****
“I am Long Bear.” The old man hailed Caroline from the fireplace and pulled another chair close, “Join me here by the warmth. The small child is your daughter?”
Caroline moved to the chair, sat down and removed the blanket, “Yes.” She turned her daughter so thatshe also faced the fire, and the old man, “This is Jennie.”
“It is good you travel here with your mama, Jennie.” Long Bears face remained unchanged since the subtle greeting of comradeship, “A mother and daughter should do things together as long as they can. So many times today thatis not the case, even among the Indian.”
In response, Jennie produced an uncertain smile to the unsmiling old man. Caroline hugged her and finished the smile for her. Long Bears face cracked slightly, showing understanding.
The door crashed open.
Along with cold air and rain—Caroline counted them—tumbled fourteen children of various ages, four of them lighter, as if part white, including the tallest boy.
“These are all your grandchildren, Long Bear?”
“My great-grandchildren, and these are not all of them. Children, come gather by the warmth and meet your visitors! One of them is your age!Whooping Crow,” he said to the tallest boy who appeared to be two or three years older than Jennie and wore a red handkerchief headband around chopped-off-below-theears, coal black hair, “Get the young lady a pillow to sit on.”
The boy disappeared into another room.
Long Bear introduced the children as they gathered on the floor leaving a double space open beside Carolines chair. He gave both their Indian and English names and ages, “And you know my granddaughter, Fire Shining, Caroline. Four of these rascals belong to her.”
Whooping Crow returned and set the pillow beside Carolines chair, then sat down himself and looked at Jennie with an expression much like his grandfathers, then patted the pillow.
“…including Whooping Crow who is nine.” Long Bear finished.
Eyes wide, questioning, Jennie glanced at her mother.
“Go ahead, honey. It looks soft and you have a brave boy to protect you.”
Jennie moved to the pillow, smiled at Whooping Crow, then back at her mother.
“All good,” Long Bear announced, “I will tell you a story.”
The children voiced quiet approval.
“A different kind of story today, a story of the white man.” Long Bear stopped, turned to Caroline, “I have heard, my granddaughters good friend, that the white man has written down the history of the Chippewa. To preserve it, I understand.”
Caroline nodded, “Thats true. We dont have the Indians ability for remembering stories. We have to write down ourhistory too.”
“And what do you learn from printing your history? Do you take time to read it, and study it, and learn from it?”
“I learn from history,” Caroline answered, detecting no malice in the question, feeling certain all the old Indian said would have meaning, “But Im interested in history, especially Indian history, and how your heritage affects contemporary Indians. But, to answer your question, no, history is a least favorite subject among students, and I doubt we have ever learned from history—” She smiled and added, “Unfortunately, unless history is written in the form of a novel, something entertaining but stretching the truth…,” then left the sentence unfinished.
“Time is so valueless to the white man, Caroline. You hurry though life as if going to a ball game. Then, when your life is over, you have missed all the beauty and enchantment. You have strived, and I dont blame you for striving to provide for loved ones.“ Long Bear stopped, “You provide for Jennie alone?”
Aaron slipped through her mind at the old mans question. Aaron would love Jennie, and Jennie would love Aaron, and Aaron would love to provide for her and Jennie. She felt certain of those things, and she would love to let him, and would let him, if he would just get colony out of his precocious mind! “Im single, Long Bear, but Jennie and I do fine.”
“I am sure you do, Caroline.” The old mans face remained unchanged, but she was certain some sagacious thought flickered through his shrewd eyes, “Regardless,” Long Bear went on, “Whether single man or single woman, provision is the ancient way, but your people strive for gadgets, Caroline. Entertainment in the form of gadgets. Electronic gadgets. Speed gadgets. And you still consider the Indian as an uncivilized savage because we do not adapt to your temporary ways. As a people, Caroline, we are unable to adapt quickly. We are from the Stone Age. We were thrust into technology hundreds of years before our time. We have learned many of your ways, but have also retained our old ways. For our old ways have survived the ravages of time, Caroline, while your new ways, civilization itself, has come and gone many times over.”
Another fleeting thought of Aaron and his fantastical colony slipped through her mind. She tried dispelling it but the old Indian actually seemed to be confirmingAarons idea. Impossible! Only a young mans fantasies and an old mans memories, and the old man kept saying„you as if she, herself could do something about it. About what?
“However, I said I would tell you a story,” Long Bear announced again, still gazing quietly at Caroline, “It is a story about the white mans flighty ways, how he makes mistakes and does not learn from them because he will not work with Mother Nature.
“Bill Swanson is a good white mans name.” The old Indian turned to face the flames, “This man could not get the genetically-modified seed that had been treated with many chemicals to replant his pasture. When the sheep had ate all the forage gone, he sold his sheep. White man had forgotten that natural forage was better for his sheep, so Bill Swanson, of course, did not know, and that natural forage was eaten in stages and would return again and again, long after chemicals had gone into other parts of nature, places where it should not have gone.”
Caroline stared at the old mans shaded profile and saw the firelight dancing on the narrow, lighted strip of his face. She had her own list of questions, but felt she would hear much more than she asked.
“Bill Swanson, then, did not buy replacement breeding stock from Steven Smith, another good white mans name, so, Steven Smith was left with a surplus of young ewes. And nobody had pasture, and all the European and Asian immigrant weeds had all been killed by other chemicals too, and even natural forages needed years to recover from all the chemicals saturating the ground, so, when Steven Smith ran out of dry chemical feed, he sold all his sheep too. Then all the chemical feed companies went broke because it was the same all up and down the line with efficient chemical sheep farming.
“You see,” Long Bear said, turning to Caroline again, “Some certain ingredient from Mother Earth that was used in the manufacture of the chemical that treated the seed, was all gone. It was the only known ingredient with those known properties.” The old man stopped talking, grasped a small piece of firewood and tossed it onto the fire, causing an explosion of sparks, then tossed on a larger piece, and another, till the flames burned high.
Caroline considered the story a gross exaggeration. They had synthetic chemistry now. They didnt have to worry about certain ingredients from the good Mother Earth. They could develop a new chemical to replace the old one…couldnt they?
She glanced at the children. They, including her own daughter, were staring at the old man as if he had been telling some great legend from out of the Chippewa past.
“This certain ingredient was used to protect the seed embryo from all the other chemicals in the ground,” Long Bear continued, “The chemical company could have developed a new ingredient—”
There! You see?

“But there wasnt time . And nobody thought the certain ingredient was going to run out. The miners kept mining and mining, until one daythey couldnt find anymore.” Long Bear turned to the fire again, grasped an iron poker and stirred, causing another explosion of sparks, then the fire quieted. “Some white people tried to tell them it would happen,” he said as he laid the poker aside, “But they were not believed. Finally, all sheep were sold for mutton and wool and pet food. Everybody thought somebody would save some for later breeding purposes, but nobody did.”

The door blew open. The full fury of the storm came in.
Whooping Crow leaped up and helped Fire shining close it, then returned to the spot beside Jennie, and received a big smile from Jennie, then returned the smile to Jennie, a smile very much like his greatgrandfathers smile, which was not a smile.
Caroline returned her attention to Long Bear who faced the fire. When he didnt continue his story, she asked, “Well, what happened?”
“Is it not clear already, Young-friend-of-mygranddaughter?”
“Not really, I, I didnt really get the point, although Im sure there was one.” She w aited.
The Indian remained facing the fire as he spoke, “First, when I say „you and „white man I am referring to civilized people everywhere on earth.”
Thank you.
“Although, Caroline, there are days coming when certain of you must take a position, and you must believe your position is right, no matter what other people are saying and doing.”
Ive encouraged Aarons position, but I havent joined him!
“And that will not be a simple matter, Caroline, for it is much easier to follow the crowd, regardless of what is right and necessary. You are studying to become a teacher, thatis correct?”
Yes, but to teach accepted things!“Yes, I hope to begin teaching primary schoolchildren a year from this fall. But Ill teach what Im told unless I find something against my principles.”
“That is what I speak of, Caroline. Principles. Many white people do not have principles when it comes to Mother Earth. The Indian could teach him but it is too late.”
Too late for what?
“And the white man would not heed, just as he has not heeded your economists and environmentalists. Something irreversible has begun, Caroline. Do you understand the meaning of irreversible?”
“Of course.” But what?
“Consider what would happen, Young Future Teacher of Primary Children, if the most important substance in your civilized world were to run out. Would you be any better off than Bill Swanson or Steven Smith?”
Long Bear finally turned from the fire and faced her, “I have spoken enough on this subject. My granddaughter tells me you havecome to learn of my peoples legends. Please, ask your questions.”
Caroline stared at the old man. Her only question, right then, was what he had just maneuvered around. She wished Aaron could talk to the fanciful old man. They could sit and talk and encourage each other for hours and hours, while sensible people, like herself, kept the real worlds wheels turning.
Laughter and announcements came that the storm was over and the sun was shining.
Caroline stared at the old man for another second, and wondered if the real storm was yet to begin. She also wondered if Long Bear had any true idea of what he was talking about. Deep in her mind she thought he did. But the outward part of her mind that she depended on for day to day decisions and such, she didnt know, “I think tomorrow will be soon enough for my questions, Long Bear. I promised my daughter a walk along the lakeshore tonight.”
“Is good, Curls of a Red Sun. Your small child is a truly beautiful person. I am sure she will grow to become as lovely asher mother.”
Caroline smiled, then turned to Jennie, and noticed Whooping Crow was still present and looking at Jennie, and Jennie was looking back.
“Take your child along the northshore,” Long Bear suggested, “It is most pleasant there.”
****
Long Bear watched as the tall pretty woman with the red-auburn hair and her tiny, stiff-legged daughter in the yellow dress with blue markings moved out of the cabin. Then he moved to the door and continued watching as the mother and daughter, holding hands, walked to the edge of Embrace Lake, stood for a moment, then started down the south shore.
He smiled the way he smiled. So, the young teacher does go her own way. It is good.

Chapter 17 Vivian

 

Aaron stood quietly near the office. The assembly line was buzzing the same as it had been twenty-four hours earlier.

At four oclock everything s