Coyote, page 6
The oil rig was less than a mile from Red Hawk Elementary, where Kimi and her sisters had gone to school. In daylight, she would have been able to see the dilapidated school in one direction and the glorious Rocky Mountains in the other. At night, the towering silhouettes of oil rigs danced manically in the vapors emanating from open flames shooting out of smokestacks. This was the man-made hell poisoning her home and destroying her family.
Headlights off, Leon drove toward the closest rig. Kimi watched from the van as her three companions in black knit hats swiftly unloaded their gear. Gracefully choreographed, like they’d done it hundreds of times before, the trio set charges and unspooled wires as they pirouetted around the bottom of the monstrous metal tower. They finished their work in five minutes flat and hopped back into the van.
“Let’s get out of here,” Leon said. “It’s gonna blow!” He stepped on the gas and backed the van down the dirt road at top speed, swerving and fishtailing through the gate to the compound.
As Kimi turned to glance out the back window, she saw Danny standing in the doorway of the trailer. Then a massive ball of fire followed by a mushroom cloud of smoke obliterated everything else in her field of vision. The ground shook beneath the van. Leon spun a 180 and sped back toward town.
“Do you think Danny will be okay?” she asked.
“Don’t worry about him, Kimi. We have to focus on the greater good. He’s just one person. We’re fighting for the whole tribe. For our people,” Leon said.
When they dropped her off back at the train station, Kimi was trembling. “Danny’s one of us!” she shouted as she slammed the van door behind her.
In the morning light, she noticed the van covered in green and blue stickers: “Save the Earth, There’s no Planet B,” “Save Earth, Kill Yourself,” “Save an Elk, Shoot a Fracker,” “Tree Hugger,” “Environmentalists Do it For Future Generations,” and “I’d Rather be Kayaking.”
Shivering, she walked across the street to Two Medicine Grill for a cup of tea in hopes of settling her nerves. Kimi sat at the chipped and faded orange Formica counter, tracing a well-worn divot with her finger. Besides the waitress, she was the only woman in the place. Everyone was staring at her. They all must know what she’d done.
Their stares reminded her of when she was thirteen and she’d go out in public with her mom and the new baby. She called him Apisi, Coyote. Her mom called him Frankie, after his father. The cops said baby Apisi died in the accident along with Kimi’s mom. But she knew better. She could feel it. He was still alive.
Before the oilfields and fracking, Two Medicine Grill welcomed both locals and tourists with its rainbow awning and cute little storefront. It was known for its fresh baked pies and cozy comfort foods.
Now the tiny place was engorged with men in greasy coveralls and cork-soled boots. The cracked vinyl crinkled under her jeans as Kimi swiveled back and forth on a little blue stool at the counter. She stared into the heavy white porcelain of her teacup as she dunked a Lipton’s teabag up and down. The waitress offered her three-berry pie, “baked fresh this morning, with real butter crust, hon.”
Barely audible above the din of the men, the morning news was broadcasting from the radio. Kimi’s teaspoon clattered on the countertop when the announcer mentioned an explosion near Red Hawk Elementary School:
“Police suspect sabotage, and are looking for a light-colored van. An unidentified employee of Tribal Oil suffered third-degree burns and was life-flighted to Kalispell Hospital.”
Kimi gasped and covered her mouth with both hands. When the announcer reported that a grainy surveillance video showed the Volkswagen pulling up to the trailer and a young Indian woman getting out, Kimi dropped two dollars on the counter and bolted out of the diner. Once under the railroad overpass and out of sight of the diner, she raced toward Glacier Park Lodge.
From the hallway of the bunkhouse, she noticed the door to her room was ajar. She stopped in her tracks when she heard voices coming from inside. The voices stopped too.
She heard Auntie Madge’s distinctive lilt. “Kimi RedFox, I know you’re out there. I can smell you. Get in here this instant, young lady, before I have to come after you.”
Madge Blackthorn was the chief of police on the reservation. Her job mostly entailed corralling drunks and drying them out in the Blackfeet lockup—that is until the oil boom. Now, meth, crack, and heroin ran rampant, rape and prostitution were commonplace, and murder accompanied the monthly full moon. Fracking had brought crime like they’d never seen before on the reservation.
It was like the Wild West all over again: murderous bar fights, prostitutes galore, and two-dozen men for every woman. Dragged into the darkest corners of crime and corruption, the Blackfeet got the worst of it.
Kimi held her breath, deciding whether to make a break for it or surrender. Before she could take off, Auntie Madge appeared in the hallway, arms akimbo, sheriff’s hat perched atop her nest of dyed black hair. She was giving Kimi the evil eye.
“Where have you been, Miss RedFox?” Auntie Madge asked knowingly.
Kimi flushed and answered, “Out jogging.”
“Did you happen to jog out to the oil rigs behind the school?”
“Why would I—”
“Before you dig yourself in any deeper, I’ve seen the surveillance tape with your beautiful face, big as day, knocking on the door of Danny’s trailer.” Auntie Madge put her arm around Kimi and led her into her room. “How the hell did you get involved with that outfit? Ecoterrorists, that’s what they’re calling them. Earth Liberation, my eye.”
Kimi hung her head. “I’m sorry, Auntie Madge.” She’d known “Auntie” Madge all her life. Since Kimi’s mom died in the accident eleven years ago, Madge Blackthorn had watched out for her and her sisters. From that moment on, she’d been like a second mother to the orphaned girls, who were being raised by their maternal grandmother. While her grandmother imparted tribal legends and herbal remedies, Auntie Madge spoiled her with ice cream, candy, and afternoon cartoons. All the kids called her “Auntie” because she handed out lollypops from her squad car. She used to drive around with a bag of Tootsie Pops, probably still does.
“Is Danny Hall gonna be okay?” Kimi asked.
“You should’ve thought of that before you and your friends tried to blow him to kingdom come.” Auntie Madge shook her head. “What was going through your mind, girl? It’s a good thing your mother’s not alive to see this, bless her soul.”
My mother the saint. If she only knew. “That fracking is killing us, Auntie Madge. You know that. Our tap water catches fire, yet we’re promised it’s safe to drink. Contaminated waste-water pools in open ponds, and our air is filled with methane gas.” Kimi ran her fingers through her long dense hair. She realized that she hadn’t washed it in days. She unwound the tie from around her wrist and twisted her hair into a ponytail.
“That may be so, but you don’t need to go blowin’ folks up.” Auntie Madge patted her shoulder. “Come with me. I tried to get ahold of the surveillance tape before the chairman saw it, but I was too late. Now, he wants to talk to you.”
Kimi cringed. “He’s as corrupt as the rest.”
“He means well. But he’d sell his own grandmother if she’d fetch enough.” Auntie Madge chuckled, seized Kimi by the elbow, and led her outside to a squad car.
“Is this really necessary, Auntie? Can’t you give me a warning or something?”
“Would you rather I take you over to the CCV compound? Maybe those Church Complete and Victorious nutcakes could knock some sense into you. Anyway, you know it ain’t up to me now that the chairman’s involved.” Auntie Madge used her fingernail to gently sweep the sticky bangs across Kimi’s forehead and out of her eyes. She always managed to have freshly manicured nails, blunt cut with just a strip of white at the tips, and her beehive hairdo formed a pregnant helmet of hair under her sheriff’s hat. Kimi suspected it was really a wig.
Auntie Madge was old school. She’d fight to the death for the women and girls on the reservation, but she hated “that blessed women’s lib.” Kimi smirked and reached for the door to the back seat of the patrol car.
“Nah, why don’t you sit up front, honey, so we can talk.” Auntie Madge opened the front passenger door for her. “And wipe that silly grin off your face. This’s no game.”
Kimi and Auntie Madge had just arrived at the doublewide that served as the tribal police station when Tribal Chairman Dakota Rowtag swaggered through the door. With his shiny ponytail and freshly pressed western clothes, he was an Indian version of the Marlboro man. In the political chaos over big oil companies leasing Blackfeet land, Dakota Rowtag had been elected chairman of the Tribal Council with his promises of prosperity and wealth.
“Kimi RedFox,” he said, “when did you become such a beautiful woman? I remember when you was just a scrawny thing riding that pink banana-seat bike all over town.” He embraced her in a bear hug. Kimi flinched and pulled away. She’d heard rumors about the old goat.
“Now, Kimi, what have you gotten yourself involved in? Those tree-huggers aren’t interested in what’s best for the reservation. The oil boom’s brought prosperity where there was only poverty and despair. Why, your own family gets an allotment check every month from oil money, just like everyone else.” Chairman Dakota Rowtag pulled over a chair for her and then one for himself. “Kimi, sit down. I want to tell you something.”
“Madge, darlin’, go get us some coffee.” He winked at the middle-aged woman and then turned back to Kimi.
“The oil is bringing sovereignty. Fracking is sovereignty by the barrel. It’s the only way we can become independent from handouts from the Great White Father in Washington. We need this oil. It’s good for you and your family. It’s good for us all. Do you understand, Kimi?”
When she didn’t respond, Chairman Rowtag continued. “Sovereignty by the barrel. You want sovereignty, right? You don’t want us always to be beholden to others. No price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself.”
Chairman Rowtag patted her hand, and she jerked it back and balled it into a fist as if she might sock him. “The fracking has also brought toxic air and water, drugs, crime, and corruption.” She glared at him. “There’s no sovereignty for meth or crack addicts. There’s no sovereignty for our young girls sold into prostitution. What about my sisters? Where is their sovereignty? I’d rather have my sisters back than the blood money you send every month to placate us.”
“Now, Kimi, you have to listen to reason—”
“What’s your reason for buying a ninety-five-foot yacht when our brothers and sisters are going hungry? That monstrous whale looks ridiculous just sitting in the dirt—”
“Kimi, you’re treading on dangerous ground,” Chairman Rowtag interrupted. “You’re the one who has broken the law. You’re the one facing a prison sentence. Fracking means opportunity for our young people. Not just jobs but education. We can build a new high school. We can expand the community college. We can give our young people a chance to succeed.” Chairman Rowtag sighed and examined Kimi. She just stared back and waited for him to finish.
“What are we going to do with you, Kimi RedFox?” he asked. “Couldn’t you at least have bombed Richard Knight’s rigs instead of mine?”
Auntie Madge slid a chipped ceramic mug in front of the chairman. “Sorry it took so long. I had to make a fresh pot. Here’s your coffee.” She smiled as he lifted the cup to read what was written on it: “Feel Safe at Night, Sleep with a Police Woman.” Hands on hips, she asked, “So what’s the verdict? Has our princess decided whether she’s going into the lockup or ratting out her blessed friends in ELF?”
Princess my foot. Kimi rolled her eyes.
When Auntie Madge sat down behind the desk, her coffee slopped over the rim of her cup. “Liverwurst and cheese!” she exclaimed as she popped back up, grabbed a paper towel from the counter, and then used it to sop up the spots of brown liquid. She sat back down and took a sip. “Ah, that’s better. Nothing like a fresh cup of coffee to lift your spirits.”
“Right,” said Chairman Rowtag. “Here’s the deal, Kimi. Either you tell us the names of the ELF leaders or you stay in jail. It’s as simple as that. You have twenty-four hours to decide. Auntie Madge, give her your best room while she’s making up her mind.” Chairman Rowtag chuckled. “Sovereignty by the barrel, baby. Don’t you forget it!” He picked up his coffee and sauntered out the door.
“Hey, that’s my cup,” Auntie Madge called after him. “Suzy Little Eagle made it for me.”
“You’re the real criminal,” Kimi called after him—once she was sure he was out the door. “And I don’t just mean stealing coffee cups.”
Chapter 11
Kimi sat in the stinky jail cell waiting for Auntie Madge to return with lunch. She still didn’t know if Danny Hall was going to make it. What if he died? Until now, she’d been so sure the Blackfeet had to get the oil companies off the reservation any way possible since peaceful protests didn’t work.
Maybe violence wasn’t the answer either. It would be one thing if it were a fair fight, if there were a chance good would triumph over evil. Somehow evil always had more weapons at its disposal. She remembered her grandmother saying, “There’s no good or evil, just powerful medicine. Some have it, some don’t.” Maybe her grandmother was right—there was no good or evil. But power didn’t come from medicine. It came from money. And, yeah, some had it, some didn’t.
Kimi picked the dirt from under her chipped fingernails. Maybe she’d ask Auntie Madge if she could take a shower, to kill time if nothing else.
The only other person in the jail was Abraham Old Person. He was passed out in the cell across the hall, snoring and smelling of piss and booze. Kimi scowled when Abraham Old Person vomited down the side of his bunk. She hated that so many of the older generation had succumbed to alcohol and detested that so many of her generation were surrendering to drugs.
Given their lives on the reservation, she understood why…but at the same time, she didn’t understand how her generation could live with the rollercoaster of drug addiction. She’d rather stick to a steady diet of despair than get high. Kimi shook her head and sighed. A century of negotiations with the napekwin had given nothing to the Blackfeet except bad medicine, drugs, and alcohol. White men and their poisonous gifts.
She stood up and paced around the barren cell. She wished she could burn a sage smudge-bundle to counteract the stench emanating from Abraham Old Person.
She heard the front door shut, and Auntie Madge called out, “I’m back with lunch!” The stout police chief appeared in front of the cell holding a paper bag from Nation’s Burger Station along with a cardboard drinks tray. “Fry-bread tacos and root-beer floats. Food of the gods,” Auntie said as she dangled the greasy bag. “What in hell’s name is that smell? Jesus Christ ala mode, Abraham, you stink!” She disappeared.
In a flash she was back with the keys and unlocked the door to Kimi’s cell. “Let’s eat in the office so we don’t ruin our appetites.” Auntie Madge opened the cell and gestured her out of the lockup. “It’s nicer out there.”
Without a word, Kimi followed Auntie down the hall to the dingy office. At least they’d almost escaped the foul smells of Abraham Old Person.
“Here ya go, honey.” Auntie Madge handed her a foam container and a wad of napkins.
Her eyes widened when she opened the container and saw puffy fry bread smothered in beef and bean chili, topped with lettuce, tomato, cheese, and a dollop of sour cream. Kimi hadn’t had a Nation’s Burger Indian taco in years. As a special treat, her mom used to take them to Nation’s for ice cream sundaes. Nation’s could do anything imaginable with soft-serve ice cream. They had twenty kinds of milk shakes. If only her sisters had stuck with Nation’s soft-serve instead of moving onto crack-cocaine.
Except for the occasional groan of pleasure, she and Auntie munched in silence. After wiping her mouth with a napkin, Auntie Madge stuffed the foam container back in the paper bag. Kimi savored the light, puffy fry bread. Her cheeks full of taco, she asked, “Do you know the origin of Indian tacos, Auntie Madge?”
“I suppose you’re going to tell me. And don’t talk with your mouth full. You look like a blessed chipmunk. Here, wipe your mouth.” Auntie Madge handed her some napkins.
Kimi wiped the grease off her chin. “Fry bread was the result of the rancid food provided by the government. The Navajo mixed the only supplies they had—flour, salt, lard, and soda—together and deep fried it. That is the sorrowful birth of Indian fry bread.”
“Well, I guess fry bread’s our silver lining,” Auntie Madge said with a wink.
“Pretty meager reward if you ask me.”
“I seen you lickin’ your fingers.” Auntie Madge changed the subject. “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on, princess?”
Kimi cringed. She hated bring called “princess.” “What do you mean? I already told you. Fracking is killing us. We have to stop them using whatever means necessary.”
“Whatever means necessary. Ha! You sound like one of those blessed ecoterrorists. You know you could have killed Danny Hall?” Auntie Madge pursed her lips.
“I’m so sorry, Auntie. I didn’t mean to hurt Danny. Is he going to be okay?” A lone tear sprouted from Kimi’s eye, hung for a second on her lashes, and then traced a path through the dirt on her cheek.
“I oughta’ let you stew in your own juice. Luckily, he’s going to make it. But his arm’s burnt up pretty bad,” Auntie Madge said with a soft sigh. “Dakota…the chairman wants you kept here until you tell us who’s responsible for blowing up that rig and sabotaging his equipment. So, you’ll have to start naming names, princess, or you’ll be rooming with Stinky Old Person tonight.” She got up, fetched the coffee pot, and poured some sludge into a grimy coffee cup. “Want some?” she asked.
