Old Chaos (9781564747136) (24 page)

“You were seen—”

“I don’t doubt that some busybody saw Fred and me at the Red Hat. He took me out for drinks a couple of times. That was it. He was not my l-lover.” She choked on the word, whether from grief or amusement Rob could not have said. She stood up. “Is that all, or do you want a quick lesson in how to apply for a building permit?”

“That’s it, Inger. Thanks.”

She swept out like a tall ship under full sail.

“¡Qué cosa!”

Rob grinned. “She was on the girls’ double-A volleyball team the year they won the state championship. I think I just got spiked.”

Linda said seriously, “I would not allow that woman to come anywhere near my boyfriend.”

Rob decided he’d better not comment. Linda’s boyfriend was a small, cheerful man. Rob thought he was devoted to her. “Hey, I wanted to give you a turn with the questions. Did you come up with any?”

She nodded. “Who cuts her hair?”

Both of them were laughing when the phone rang. The desk sergeant said Karl Tergeson wanted to see Rob immediately. Rob gave Linda a chance to escape before he let Karl come in.

The county commissioner looked old and ill, Rob thought as they shook hands. Karl talked for awhile about Mack and how much everyone was going to miss him. Rob agreed. Then Karl congratulated Rob on the promotion. He’d already done that at the funeral. Rob asked after Jordis. She was well.

At last Rob said, “Is there something I can do for you, Commissioner?”

Karl ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. “My daughter…I understand she’s in trouble with that state patrol detective.”

Rob explained that anyone with access to the records would come under suspicion.

“Can’t you talk to him, tell him she’s innocent? Jordis and I, we raised our kids right.” They had three sons but Inger was Karl’s favorite. “No child of mine would take a bribe from a developer.”

“I’m sure that will come out in the investigation.”

Karl stared at him from under bushy eyebrows. “And these rumors…”

Rob kept still.

“She’s not…she’s a good girl. Faithful to her husband. He’s not worth much, Larry, but she’s true to her vows. I know it.”

After a moment, Rob said carefully, “I’m sure Inger is everything you and Jordis want her to be. She certainly won re-election by a good margin. The voters like her.”

That did not seem to console Inger’s father, but at least he left the office. Rob wondered why he’d come. One thing for sure: Karl Tergeson was a frightened man.

C
OMMISSIONER BJORK called on Maddie early that afternoon. Cate had made the appointment at Mack’s funeral. Maddie was ready for her, or as ready as possible given the tentative state of planning for the Klalos’ casino.

As in other states, tribal councils in Washington had opened casinos on reservation or trust land. Federal and state laws that limited gambling didn’t operate there. The same was true of Oregon, where two successful casinos had opened to appeal to coast-bound travelers.

Casinos brought money to the tribe as a whole and jobs for tribal members. That there were problems associated with large-scale gambling Maddie knew very well, not least the possibility of Mob intrusion. And, in descending order, gambling addiction, traffic, rivalry with other Indian enterprises in the area, and the petty crimes associated with any large-scale tourist magnet.

Some people in the county had religious scruples about games of chance, and because of the National Scenic Area, the feds were bound to raise objections, too. Every time Maddie had mentioned the word
casino
in Mack’s presence he had spluttered and gone red in the face. That was partly because he disliked change, but some of his objections made sense.

Maddie was not set on building a casino. There were other possibilities. She was prepared to discuss the alternatives with Cate Bjork, but she was not prepared to be patronized, especially not by a woman who had moved to the area a scant five years ago. If Maddie agreed not to push the casino, she intended to see to it that the county compensate the Klalos for the loss of revenue and prestige. In some ways, threatening to build a casino was as satisfying as building it.

Cate had agreed to come out to Two Falls. Maddie set the scene with care. She met the commissioner in the large room she had created for the tribal council. It was attached to the double-wide mobile home she and Jack lived in, and she had designed it to suggest warmth and collective action.

She had furnished it simply, with an open central hearth (a good gas-fired fake), a dun-colored outdoor carpet suggesting rammed earth, and built-in benches along the walls, but the chief extravagance was wood. She wanted nothing to detract from the wood used on the walls and benches and in the display area.

Klalo culture used wood with exceptional brilliance. Maddie meant to remind the council of their own carpenter heritage, and much of the cedar, alder, pine, fir, spruce, and birch used in the room had been donated and shaped by tribal artisans. She did not encourage clutter, just perfect joinery. Above all, because of the cedar-paneled walls, the room smelled good.

Having restrained herself in the room’s design, Maddie indulged in an orgy of display. Every art and craft that had been passed down from grandmother to granddaughter, from grandfather to grandson, had its day. Pine needle baskets, cedar bark baskets and reed mats, elkskin headbands and robes, cradle boards, bentwood boxes, button-ornamented blankets, sleek obsidian knives, masks and drums for the dancing—she gave each traditional art its time and place. As the seasons wore on, she returned the beautiful things to the families that had created them and asked for others.

The council room had many uses. Maddie met there with the young people Rob Neill called her “troops” and with the elders, most recently for an oral history project. Her favorite use, though, was story-telling. Her grandmothers had been splendid singers and story-tellers. They would have loved her council room. She set aside times when artists could teach their skills, too, but it wasn’t the ideal space for that.

Maddie wanted a true craft center to support the traditional arts. That would take money if it were done right—with a big, uncluttered shop, proper lighting, and computer marketing, so artists could make a living from their work. The casino could finance such a center, and other important things like scholarships and a decent, convenient health clinic. She did not think the commissioners would share her passion for Klalo culture to the point of welcoming a casino, even so.

She considered greeting Cate in a traditional manner, but it was too early in their acquaintance for that, so she dressed plainly and when Cate got there, offered the woman a cup of Earl Grey and a plate of shortbread, nothing to alarm her.

Cate gave the room a cursory glance, settled on the bench, and accepted a cup of steaming tea, no sugar. She declined the shortbread as Maddie had thought she might. They exchanged comments on the weather and asked after each other’s husbands in a verbal sarabande of the kind Maddie usually enjoyed. She could feel the other woman’s impatience, however, so she avoided elaboration.

Cate bared her perfect teeth in a smile. “No doubt you’re wondering why I wanted to talk to you privately, Ms. Thomas.”

“Chief Thomas.” Maddie took a sip of her own tea to mask her irritation.

“Oh, of course.” The smile dimmed.

“I assume you want to talk about the role of the Klalo people in county affairs.”

“Well, yes. Since I’m new on the board—”

“You campaigned on an environmentally sensitive platform, so I think we share some ideas. You mentioned clear-cutting at Beth’s dinner party.”

“I oppose clear-cuts. They’re an abomination.”

Logging, at least as the Bostons practiced it, was an abomination. Maddie sipped Earl Grey. “And you want to protect wetlands.” “Wetlands” was a locally sensitive flashword Maddie found amusing. The whole county was wet land as far east as Two Falls. After that, as if someone had drawn a north/south line, it was very dry land. “Did you know that your house sits on a camas meadow?”

Cate looked blank.

“Camas,” Maddie repeated. “The botanists used to say it was a lily, but it has its own classification now. It has lovely purple flowers, like lupine or phlox. The bulb was a staple food.” It tasted like sweet potato when it was baked and could be pounded down to a flour. Maddie didn’t think Cate would find that interesting.

“We are preserving local flora.”

Except for camas. Maddie said, “You’ll have trouble getting the zoning laws you talked about during your campaign. Hank Auclare is a real estate agent.”

“It will be an uphill battle,” Cate conceded. “Perhaps Mr. Terge-son—”

“As far as Karl is concerned, property is sacred.” Maddie was pleased she remembered that platitude of the many Karl was fond of. “He resents the government’s limits on building in the Scenic Area, so he’s not likely to want more restrictions outside the reserve. And I will say for Karl that he’s consistent.”

“May I ask you something, Madeline?”

“Maybe.”

“Why do you live here?”

Maddie set her cup on the bench beside her. “Why do I live here instead of in a seven-thousand-square-foot house in the middle of a camas meadow, or why do I live in Two Falls?”

Cate bit her lip. “Two Falls. Instead of Klalo.”

“Well, I’m hereditary chief of the Two Falls band, so I live in Two Falls. There are three bands. I was
elected
principal chief by all three.”

“I see.”

“Three times,” Maddie added. “Shall we talk about the casino?”

Cate set her own cup down and stood. “I’ll listen to your plans, of course.” She strolled to the nearest display cabinet. It held pine needle baskets. “But I have to tell you up front that I’ll oppose building a casino in Latouche County.”

That was pretty much what Maddie had been expecting since the night of Beth’s dinner party. She said nothing, but she was thinking hard.

Cate moved on. She looked at the knives, but they must not have interested her. The big cedar bark baskets were another matter. Maddie was glad for the glass-enclosed display case. Otherwise, the commissioner might have felt free to finger the baskets, some of which were a hundred years old.

At last Maddie said, “Why?”

“These are really beautiful.”

“Thank you. Why are you opposed to a casino? Do you object to gambling for religious reasons?”

Cate gave a short startled laugh, almost a whinny. “Heavens, no.” She paused and frowned. “No. Latouche County is pristine, untouched. It needs to be nurtured. Your casino would bring Japanese tourists, busloads of retirees, and who knows what riffraff-cars full of rowdies from Portland dumping beer cans.”

Maddie chuckled. “Untouched! Our fishing grounds and all three of our villages were drowned by Bonneville Dam. Power-lines cut gashes in the hillsides. Orchardists ripped out the old growth. The railroad goes right along the river. And there’s logging. A flume built in the 1890s runs down to the Choteau, down below the falls.” She gestured with her right arm. “How can you say Latouche County is untouched?”

Cate sniffed. “You know what I mean.”

“I know you want to preserve your equity,” Maddie said wickedly. “Right now there’s no law to say some contractor can’t buy up land around you and build condos. So you want zoning. You’ve been here what, five years?”

“Almost six. I’ve seen what unrestricted building has done to California. It’s time to draw the line here, or we’ll wind up looking like Tahoe.”

Maddie clucked her tongue. “And our casino would do that? Who’da thunk it?”

After a moment, Cate smiled her wintry smile. “I can see we’re at loggerheads. Shall we agree to disagree?”

“As long as you understand one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“If we decide to build a casino, it will be erected on tribal land, outside the county’s governance. You can lay on all kinds of restrictions having to do with drainage and traffic, highway access, policing, protection of endangered species.” Her mouth curved in an answering smile. “But you can’t prevent us from building a casino.”

“We’ll see about that.” Cate turned back to the cabinet. “How much is that large basket in the back, the one with the tweed-like pattern? It would look wonderful on my hearth.”

Ice gripped Maddie’s stomach and her fingers itched. When she could control her voice, she said, “It’s not for sale.”

“I pay museum prices.”

Maddie had gathered berries in that basket when she was five years old. Her maternal grandmother had woven it of long strands of cedar bark, overlapping the strands with plaited bear grass. It was irreplaceable. Strictly speaking, she ought to
give
the basket to the commissioner. That was what custom demanded. No way would Catherine Parrish Bjork have understood the gesture. Mad-die was proud that she didn’t smack the woman in the face with her clenched fist.

After another silence, Maddie said, “Nothing in this room has a price.”