our people won’t see a penny of it. So John-Joe, where is it?”
John-Joe stopped beaming, as did the others. He clamped his orange cap down further over his eyes, then pointed to a wide band of puckered white etched into the nubby surface of the greyish-pink granite. It looked as if some giant hand had drawn a line through the rock with a thick white marker.
“Why, that’s just a seam of quartz,” I said, feeling let down. “We see that all the time around here. What makes you think this has anything to do with gold?”
I bent down, hoping to see glints of gold, but saw only dull opaque quartz.
John-Joe gave me an angry look and said, “Because of these.” He walked over to where several blotches of orange fluorescent paint marked the white rock. “And these metal stakes!” His foot tapped the dulled end of one, which had been hammered in with such force that the surrounding ground was littered with quartz chips.
“The gold’s here, eh?” John-Joe said, turning towards Eric. Gerry, with the beer belly, smirked, while Pete and Jacques just stared blankly back at me.
Eric grimly nodded. “They’re new, all right.” He walked along the rock face, following the line of white. “See, here’s another stake. Spread out everyone. Let’s see how big this sucker is.”
As we walked along the ridge we discovered more stakes and orange markings. They followed the length of the granite backbone. On either side, the ancient trees grumbled and sent showers of dead needles rasping across the rock.
I spied another seam of quartz and started following it as it descended the ridge into the ancients’ forest. Next moment, I was lying on the ground. I lay there, unsure of what had happened. My ankle felt like someone had jabbed it with a hot poker.
“You okay?” Eric helped me to my feet and brushed the dirt from my clothes. My ankle ached, but I could stand on it.
“You should pay more attention to where you’re walking.” Eric indicated a small round hole in the rock by my feet. There were several others close by, perfectly cylindrical holes filled with dead needles and other debris.
“Curious, what do you think these are?” I asked, sticking my toe into one of them. “Don’t look natural.”
Eric poked a long thin branch into another hole and dug out some of the debris. “Could be a drill hole? But these weren’t made by CanacGold, too old. See how eroded the edges are.” He jabbed the stick further into the hole. “Not sure if there’s a bottom to this.” He pulled out more debris and inserted the stick to its end.
“Same thing here,” called out John-Joe as he poked a stick into another hole. “Looks like someone else thought there was gold here. Wonder why they didn’t mine it?”
“Maybe, oh joy of joys, they didn’t find any?” I hazarded hopefully.
“Or maybe they struck water, not gold,” Eric replied with a chuckle as a splash of water from too hard a jab soaked his pant leg.
We spread out again and resumed our slow search. I continued along the edge of the ancients’ forest and discovered more markers. Gradually a sense of doom crept over me as the reality of the location sunk in.
I noticed a sudden twinkle in the rock. I crouched down to investigate and found a narrow, yard-long trench littered with needles. I brushed aside the needles and saw a dark thread cutting through the translucent quartz. At first I thought it was black, then the sun caught an angle, and gold gleamed back at me.
“Come here, quick!” I screamed. “I see it.”
“Look at that, will you”, “There really is gold here”, “Who would’ve believed it” came the murmurs as the others crowded around me. John-Joe flicked out more of the needles and ran his fingers along the gold thread. No one moved. We all stared at the thin glimmering line of gold as the fury of the pines swirled around us.
“Okay, okay. No need to get all excited,” broke in Eric. “Now we know for sure. Question is, how do we stop it?”
“And we can’t fail,” I replied. “Look up and tell me what you see.”
As one, we all raised our eyes to the long graceful branches swaying in the wind far above our heads. So high were the arms of these giants that they seemed to be within grasp of kije manido.
“If the gold is mined, what do you think will happen to them?” I walked towards a nearby giant. Wanting to feel its living, breathing soul, I ran my hand over the time-ravaged bark and dipped my fingers into a sticky dribble of sap. I breathed deeply the life-giving aroma. “It’ll destroy what the ancients fought for.”
“You got it lady, and a pile of money it’ll make us too.” hissed a voice from behind the tree. A pale mass stepped out from the shadows. My heart stopped.
“Thought I told you to stay away.” Charlie Cardinal’s threatening scowl glared down at me. He held a rifle, pointed downwards to the ground. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go back to where you belong in the white man’s shit-hole. Now get out of my way.”
He swatted me aside, as if I were a mosquito. I stumbled but didn’t fall. Frozen with shock, I watched him walk towards Eric, John-Joe and the others. A sound of heavy breathing, thumping footsteps and six men brushed past me. They flanked Charlie Cardinal. Two of them carried rifles. One held a large logging ax. None wore bright yellow.
Eric stood firm. His white scar glowed. John-Joe, feet apart, arms crossed over his chest, stood beside him. The other three ranged behind them. They formed a solid barrier.
Charlie stopped about twenty feet from them. The fringe of his pale buckskin flirted with the wind.
“Eric, I knew you couldn’t keep away,” Charlie sneered.
Eric didn’t move, didn’t answer. I watched his gaze coldly appraise Charlie, then settle on the long black and white feather attached to his braid.
“You’re sure tempting the anger of the spirits by wearing that eagle feather, Charlie,” Eric said.
Charlie’s hand jerked towards the feather on his shoulder.
I was confused by Eric’s remark. Surely if Charlie were an elder, he could wear the sacred feather.
From the inside of his jacket, Eric brought out the black and white feather discovered on the beach “Sure you don’t want to exchange it for this one?”
Charlie stiffened.
What was Eric trying to do? Get Charlie to admit the feather belonged to him and in so doing establish that he was the one who’d pushed the tree on top of me?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Charlie shot back, as he reached once more to the feather tied to his braid. “The Creator gave this eagle feather to me, and as hereditary chief of the Migiskan, I have every right to wear it. Now get your asses off this island.”
He resumed walking towards Eric, still holding the gun barrel pointed to the ground. His men spread out behind him. I recognized the shaved eagle haircut of Charlie’s mouthpiece from the General Store.
“What right do you have to order
