Canyon Secret (11 page)

Mikhail witnessed this in years gone by as other boys lost their dad to a mining accident. After the principal left the classroom, the teacher walked to Mikhail’s desk and asked him to follow him outside. He vividly remembered how the teacher walked in front of him down the hall to the principal’s office without saying a word. They walked into the office, and the principal closed the door behind them. Mikhail saw this scene in his mind a hundred times before as the principal reached up and placed his hands on Mikhail’s shoulders. “Mikhail, I’ve some bad news for you. Your father died today at the mine.”

He shook his head in an attempt to erase the painful and all too real memory. Since that time, he never recalled a time when he didn’t have a great deal of responsibility on his shoulders. The past two months working in Hungry Horse passed by quickly and the encouraging news about Anna’s health getting better offered some hope in the upsetting circumstances of his life. His new friendship with Hannah also made Mikhail think that his life was going to get easier. The possibility for he and Tomas working at the Anaconda Aluminum Plant project after the Hungry Horse Dam work finished, excited him. Starting a new life for himself and his family injected a new hope for the future. Mikhail pulled his Chevy to a stop a block away from his house. He blubbered some words as he stepped on the gas and released the clutch, “Come on now. Be strong when you go in. Anna and Katya are countin’ on you. Let’s go!”

The Labor Strike in Butte turned violent as the morning Montana Standard Newspaper reported the headline news of July 2nd.

Butte was tensely quiet Sunday night as residents fearfully awaited a possible third night of lawlessness, but up to a late hour there had been no reports of the kind of wanton destruction that terrorized the community during a weekend of unchecked vandalism and looting. As the city grimly viewed the results of mob destruction at more than a dozen homes, ravaged by roving gangs of hoodlums armed with axes and bludgeons, there was no recurrence of the depredations that went on Friday and Saturday night.

The weekend of terrorism which started Friday, reached a peak during the weekend when gangs of teenage youths and women swooped down on the home of men employed protecting Anaconda company property from damage in the strike-bound city. Practically every home damaged by the wanton mobs was occupied by wives and children of salaried employees of the Anaconda Company, not affiliated with any union and who are manning pumps and mine hoists which must be kept going to save the copper mines from irreparable damage.

Butte Miners Union refused to further provide maintenance crews during the strike until the Company agreed to sit at the bargaining table. The men, whose homes were targets of the vicious attacks, make up the maintenance crews who are protecting the mining property.

The Butte Miner’s Union issued a statement condemning the violence. “The Butte Miner’s Union and its members are not responsible for, nor do they condone acts of vandalism such as has occurred recently. On the contrary, we strongly condemn such acts and urgently request all our members and the general public to assist us in maintaining an orderly strike so that a settlement can be effected.”

The heroic battle of a Butte mother to save her home and protect her two girls from the wrath of a frenzied mob was related here Saturday by Mrs. D.P. Lowney of 2210 East Summit. Mrs. Lowney defended her home and children for two days before being overwhelmed by superior numbers and the fact that she was unable to obtain help from the county’s peace officers. Although Mrs. Lowney and her daughters, one fourteen, the other five, were terror-stricken by hoodlums, armed with axes, clubs and sledge hammers, she withstood a two-day siege by the riot-bound vandals, bent on destruction of her home.

Katya raced out to the curb and embraced her father as he fumbled to close the car door behind him. “Oh Daddy, thank God you’re here. Did you hear what’s goin’ on here in Butte with the riotin’and everything? Oh Daddy, I’m so scared it might happen here in McQueen. And—”

“Whoa there Katya! Whoa. Easy does it. Let’s go inside now.” He placed his powerful arm around her back and gently guided her toward the front door.

Mikhail drew a deep breath as he opened the screen door and allowed his daughter to walk in first. He visualized this moment for weeks now as he prepared to see his granddaughter Anna and his daughter. Once inside, he paused, smiled, and cried again as he looked at Anna sitting in his big rocking chair with the breathing mask on her face and the electrical cord plugged into the wall behind her. The iron lung was nowhere in sight. He worried that his legs wouldn’t hold the rest of his body upright.

Anna held out her arms and motioned for her grandfather to come to her. Her smile forged its way through the plastic mask covering her face. Her hair hung in two pigtails, and her favorite blanket covered the rest of her frail body.

Mikhail managed to get to his knees in front of her and held one hand behind his back with the Indian doll he bought in Hungry Horse before he left. He bent forward and Anna wrapped her arms around his neck. After the embrace she slid the mask up to her forehead, kissed him, and then in a breathy voice, she said, “Papa Mik, what’s that behind your back?”

He sat back on his heels and brought the Indian doll in front of him and handed it to Anna. “You mean this?”

“Oh yes, Papa, yes.” She hugged the doll to her face. “She’s pretty like me.”

Katya wiped the tears from her cheeks and moved closer and spoke to Anna, “Okay Anna, you need to put your mask back on. You can talk to Grandpa later, okay.”

“Okay, Mom.” She slid the mask down over her mouth and hugged the doll one more time. Katya and Mikhail stood arm in arm and smiled as Anna introduced the new doll to the crowd of other dolls and stuffed animals lying on the table next to her chair.

That evening after Anna went to sleep, Katya joined Mikhail at the kitchen table where he sat and read the last two days editions of the
Montana Standard
. He never looked up as she sat next to him with her cup of tea. “Daddy, what’s come over the strikers?”

Mikhail looked up from the newspaper and sipped from his coffee cup, “The strike’s gone on now for eight months. Don’t know who’s behind the mobs, but it ain’t the men on strike. The union’s got good men at the head.”

“But then who’d do this sort of thing. The pictures in the paper scare me, Daddy. And them two innocent boys getting shot for no good reason. The cops ain’t doin’ nothin’ about it. I— “

He took another drink of coffee and put his hand on her shoulder. He sighed and said, “Katya, when can you and Anna move up to Columbia Falls? There’s plenty of work and a good place to start over for all of us.”

She picked up an Oreo cookie from the dish and dunked it into her tea. She knew when a conversation ended with her father. He changed the subject and that was it. “Doctor says Anna might be strong enough to travel come September or October. She’s only been on the oxygen mask setup for a week. We still got to try the battery for a bit instead of the electricity. Once that gets worked out, we can start to move her around a little more. Doctor says it’s all new stuff and we got to go slow and work out the bugs.”

After he folded the newspaper, Mikhail stood up and stretched his huge body. “I’m shot. I worked a double shift yesterday. I need to hit the sack. We can talk more in the morning.”

Katya stood up and hugged her father and kissed his cheek. “I feel safe with you her, Daddy. Just like when I was little. Tomorrow we can talk about everything. David, Tomas. Everything, okay.” He nodded his head and walked down the hallway to the comfort of his bedroom.

The next morning Mikhail rose out of bed after a solid six hours of sleep and quietly slipped out the back door of the house. He tried not to disturb Katya or Anna as he walked across the alley and opened the gate to his neighbor’s yard. George Maletta sat on his porch and smiled as he recognized Mikhail enter his manicured yard. Mikhail lumbered toward the elderly man and quietly spoke, “Any coffee left, George?”

“I always got coffee for you. Come on up and sit down.” He slowly rose to his feet and opened the screen door to his kitchen and went inside. In a few minutes he returned and handed Mikhail a steaming cup of coffee. “When did ya get home, Mikhail?”

“Yesterday afternoon.”

George muffled a laugh and shook his head, “I see you still are a man of few words. How’s things up North?”

“Goin’ pretty good.” Mikhail took another large gulp of his coffee. “Tomas is doin’ good. So’s Nolan.”

“How about your son-in-law? Ya see him much?”

“No.”

George stood up, grabbed Mikhail’s empty coffee cup, and walked back into the kitchen. He picked up the notice he received from the Anaconda Company’s man about selling his property and walked back out to join Mikhail. “Take a look at this. The goddamn Company wants to buy up all the houses in Meaderville and McQueen for their goddamn open-pit mine. I told the guy to stick it up his copper collar ass.”

“When did this happen?”

“The skinny little prick walked door to door about two weeks ago and handed us this paper and wanted to make us an offer. All of McQueen is upset about it. They wanna start breakin’ ground west of Meaderville once the strike ends.”

Mikhail tugged at the skin on his neck as he welcomed the effect of the strong coffee, but coiled at the thought of McQueen actually giving way to an open-pit. “Any way to stop it?”

“Don’t know yet. We got people lookin’ into it. All of us met couple of times at the McQueen Club. Nobody wants to move. The Company plans on just burying the school and the church. Can you imagine that shit?”

Mikhail knew it was time to change the subject as his neighbor’s face grew redder and his hands started to shake, “My little Anna is getting better.”

George shook his head and forced a smile. “I know. I go over everyday and talk to her. Your daughter’s a beauty. Too good for that husband of hers.” He sipped on his coffee and composed himself with deep sighs through his nostrils. “Is he ever goin’ to come down and see the girl?”

“Next week, I think.” Mikhail continued to pull at his neck and wanted to change the subject again. “What’s goin’ on with the mobs wreckin’ the homes?”

“Jesus Christ, Mikhail, how many things we gonna talk about? You keep changin’ subjects on me. Shit, I don’t know! It’s time for the strike to get over. Somebody’s gonna get hurt. You stayin’ up in the Flathead?”

He hesitated after taking a drink of coffee, “Ya. I’m movin’ Katya and Anna soon as she’s well enough.”

The air blew out of his lungs at the news. “When?” “September or October.”

“Oh.” The old man pushed off the arm on the chair and groaned as he stood up. Mikhail watched as the elderly friend walked to the edge of his porch. He gazed toward his neighbor’s yard. Maletta paused before he spoke again, “It’ll be hard to lose your family, Mikhail. We been neighbors since you was a boy.”

Mikhail walked over and stood next to George, “It’ll be hard to leave you, George. You took over for my dad after he died. I—”

Without moving, he raised his voice and interrupted Mikhail, “That’s enough for now. I’m gonna go get some breakfast. I’ll see you later.”

As he limped back to his house, Mikhail scolded himself for being so abrupt with his dear friend. I should’ve broke it to him different. I don’t think sometimes. He walked into the house and heard the water running in the tub. Soon he’d need to talk to Katya about David. And now the Company is gonna destroy McQueen. Oh this is goin’ be a great Fourth of July alright.

Back in Hungry Horse, Tomas boarded the bus down from the Dam after he worked a double shift on the third of July. The ninety-two degree weather and the torturing work pace of tamping the concrete provided the workers with an exhausting day of work.

Tomas removed his sweat-soaked tee shirt and silver hardhat. He put on a dry shirt that he carried with him. He checked his pocketwatch—4:30. He looked over at his partner Shorty Davis and said, “The first thing I’m goin’ do is take a long shower and then a nap for an hour or so.

Shorty Davis answered “Hit the sack early tonight, Kid. We got the same kind of day tomorrow, but we get time and a half cause’ it’s the Fourth.”

“Oh, okay Shorty.” He then remembered David told him that they were running the Canyon starting at six. As the bus neared the bottom of the Dam Road, he cleared his throat and said, “Shorty. What does running the Canyon mean?”

Shorty looked back from the window, “It means you start up at the West Glacier Bar and you have a drink in every beer joint between there and the Blue Moon. How come ya ask about that?”

“Well my brother-in-law David told me I’m runnin’ the canyon with him tonight.”

“What’s your old man think bout’ that?”

Tomas straightened his lean body up and cleared his throat again, “He’s in Butte for a couple of days. He probably won’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either, Kid. Some men have got themselves hurt workin’ when they’re hung over. You best stay clear of him and the bars.”

“Ya, you’re probably right Shorty. I’ll tell David I ain’t goin’.” He scratched his stubble beard and puffed on his Camel,

“Just be ready to go at 8:00 tomorrow mornin’, Kid. I don’t work with drunks or anybody who might get me hurt. Ya follow?”

“Yes, sir, I follow.”

The bus stopped in front of the quonset hut and the men slowly climbed down the stairs of the bus. Tomas started to walk away, but Shorty called him back, “Kid, if ya need any help in tellin’ your brother-in-law, let me know. I’ll put it in words he can understand. Follow?”

He smiled and replied, “I’ll be fine, Shorty. Thanks, see ya in the mornin’.”

After a long shower, Tomas stood in his room drying his hair when the door opened and David rushed into his room. “Let’s go Tommy Boy. Drop your cock, and grab your socks. We’re goin’ drinkin’.”

He slipped on his underwear and set the wet towel on his bed. “I ain’t goin’, David. I got to work tomorrow. And I—”

“We all gotta work tomorrow for Christ’s sake. But tonight we’re drinkin’. Hurry up!”