Coppermine (43 page)

He stared at her but remained silent.

“Do you at least remember her? Her name was Kunee.”

“No,” he said too quickly. She could not tell if he was lying. His voice suddenly softened. “Where do you live? What will you do now?”

Angituk’s eyes flashed at him, but she said nothing.

Angus McAndrew removed several bills from his wallet, took her hand, and placed the five folded twenty-dollar bills into it. She held them for a moment and then dropped them in the road.

Angituk looked back over her father’s shoulder toward the house. Some of the guests stood in the open doorway, others at the windows in the parlour. In the bay window of the drawing room Cleo, Portia, and George were watching intently. Angituk raised a hand and the children all waved back, even George. Angus McAndrew made an angry gesture toward them and a maid came and directed them back, away from the window.

She turned to her father and looked into his blue eyes—her blue eyes—one last time.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. “I will never recognize you.”

She nodded, then turned and walked away.

McAndrew watched her for a moment, then bent down and picked up the money. When he stood again, he shouted for the benefit of those who might hear from the house.

“And don’t come near my family again or I’ll call the police!”

CREED DIDN’T REALLY KNOW
what he was doing, but part of him thought it was worth a try. He had washed his face and drank water to clear Cowperthwaite’s rum from his head, put on civilian clothing, and gone into the park to gather the dry grass he thought would work. He had found a solitary place to light the grass and sit downwind of it so the acrid smoke swirled around his shirtless body in purification. He slowed his breathing, and when he thought it was enough, he let the grass burn down and tried to clear and calm his mind of all of the troubles and worries he had about the trial, all the petty and selfish thoughts, and focus only on the welfare of Sinnisiak and Uluksuk. Then he called on the spirits. He explained that he was not a shaman and he knew they were not his spirits, and perhaps he had no right to address them, and maybe they couldn’t hear him so far south, but he told them he was speaking to them on behalf of his friends who needed help. He avoided asking directly for the verdict he wanted, because that would be rude and demanding. He asked only that they help his friends find a way through these troubles. He made that sincere request three times.

When he was finished and had replaced his shirt and was making his way back to the hotel, he did not feel foolish at all about what he had done. In fact he felt somehow reassured, even hopeful, as if there had been something. As if he had been heard.

ANGITUK WALKED ALONG
the bank of the broad, brown, powerful river out to the edge of town, the full moon bathing everything in a silvery negative version of midday, and thought of Angus McAndrew and his family. Was it her fault? Should she have put on a dress? Done her hair like Nicole? Would he have refused her if she had worn a dress?

Sitting by the river just before dawn, Angituk realized the truth. Angus McAndrew had not been the wonderful, loving man her mother had described to her when she was a little girl. She had always imagined her mother and Angus McAndrew living a full romantic summer season as husband and wife in the skin tents during the caribou run near Paulatuk. She thought of the tearful parting when he was ordered to return south and his promise to come back to her. It was all a pretty dream, Angituk knew now. It was all a lie.

Other things now made more sense. Her mother had hated alcohol and warned her it was poison to the men who drank it. As soon as she reached puberty, her mother dressed her as a boy when there were strangers around, especially white men. Later, when Angi grew interested in boys and wanted to redden her cheeks or lips with berry juice, she had to do it in secret or face her mother’s anger. And once, shortly before her death, Kunee caught Angituk admiring her new breasts in her hand mirror. She spoke bitterly about men then, especially white men. The reason for all this, Angituk realized as she sat musing on the riverbank, was that Angituk was not the product of love. That was just a pretty fantasy her mother had created for her. Angituk now knew this as clearly as if her mother had confessed the truth that her father had forced himself on her. Angituk kept going over it all in her mind for most of the night.

Sometime before the first glow of dawn, she sensed movement, heard a rustle between the trees. A small brown bear came snuffling down to the river for a drink. Her spirit helper.

“It took a long time to find you. What are you doing down here, so far from home?” he asked.

“I’m looking for something.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“No. Not quite. Not yet.”

“Are you close to finding it?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“It can take a long time. It is not easy or straightforward. Do you remember when you first found me and we wrestled to see if I was the right helper for you?”

“Yes.”

“Who won?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t really remember.”

“Because, like in your life, the wrestling is not over yet. It is never over.”

“The journey has been interesting.”

“Yes. Keep moving every day. Keep wrestling. It gives you new possibilities.”

“Quanaqqutit
for your guidance.”

The little bear finished scratching his belly with his right paw, gave a snort, and ambled away through the foliage along the bank.

Twenty-Three

At nine o’clock the next morning, a large crowd had gathered outside the courthouse. Was the verdict in yet? There had been no announcement, but it had been made known the jury was very close. Angituk arrived and Creed confronted her.

“Where have you been? Court’s about to start.”

Angituk stopped. She turned to look at him, angry and flushed, and was about to say something hurtful when the clerk appeared in the courthouse doorway.

“The jury is in! The jury is in!”

The crowds began to move like fish schooling toward the doors. Creed looked back at her once and then joined them. Angi stood still in the stream of people for a moment, and then she followed them inside.

JUSTICE HARVEY TURNED
to face the foreman of the jury. “Gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”

“We have, your Lordship. We find the prisoners guilty of murder.”

In shock, Angituk stared first at Creed and then at the prisoners. She had been so concerned with her own affairs, she had given little thought to the possibility of a conviction. But now it had happened. Sinnisiak and Uluksuk would not be going home. Creed too stared at the foreman. How had he thought it would come out otherwise? Of course they would need a conviction after all of this. Of course everyone must have expected this, except him.

Chief Justice Harvey replied, “Gentlemen, you have performed a very unpleasant duty and, I think, have come to the exact correct conclusion in all respects. I think the verdict is the only honest verdict that could be rendered on the evidence. The court thanks you.” He paused for the translator. “Tell them, Mr. McAndrew,” Harvey prompted her. “They’ve been found guilty of killing the priests, which they should not have done.”

She did as she was told. Sinnisiak looked frightened, Uluksuk resigned. Sinnisiak asked his old mentor quietly, “They are not going to let us go home, are they?”

Uluksuk shook his head slowly.

Justice Harvey continued. “Tell them that under our law, when a man takes another man’s life, he must give his own in return.” He paused, gauging the prisoners’ reactions. “Angituk, tell them to stand up. I will pass sentence.”

Angituk told them and Sinnisiak jumped to his feet, but she had to take Uluksuk’s arm and encourage him to stand.

“I am obliged by the laws of Canada to impose the sentence of death in the usual form of hanging, and I fix the fifteenth of September as the date of execution.”

Gasps and murmurs issued from the crowd. Justice Harvey thanked the jury again, dismissed them, then stood and—robes flying behind him like a giant crow, Uluksuk noted—disappeared from the courtroom. E.K. Mainprize soon did the same, exiting out the back door, text in hand, headed for the telephones to file the verdict to New York. He did not run; he had paid off the operator to give him the first line out.

Angituk turned to Creed accusingly. “I thought you would protect them. You said you would protect them.” Creed stared at her in silence as she moved to stand beside Sinnisiak and Uluksuk. He couldn’t look at them as they were led away.

Nicole watched Creed for a moment then came up to him as he remained in the emptying courtroom. She sat down on the bench beside him. She moved closer to him and put a hand on his knee.

“I’m sorry, Jack. But you must have known it would go this way. What else could you expect?”

Creed turned and looked at her. “I don’t know. Maybe a little humanity. Civilization, whatever that is. I had hoped your uncle would show more … vision.”

“My uncle gave the proper sentence. It’s all he could do. I know you’ve had these travels and this special friendship with them, but they did kill the priests.”

“Since when have you started to care so much about Catholic priests?”

“I care about the murder of two human beings.”

“All you care about is yourself!” he snapped at her, immediately regretting it.

Nicole stood up. “If we’re talking about being self-absorbed, dear Jack, you win the prize! And I’m sick of it.”

“So am I.” These destructive responses seemed out of his control.

Nicole stared at him for a moment. “Fine, then. There it is.”

He did not return her look. She left him sitting in the courtroom.

CREED FOUND JUSTICE HARVEY
in his office packing his briefcase for home.

“I know you’ve developed a certain kinship with them, Jack. It’s only natural. And I don’t believe they are evil men.”

“Then commute the sentence, sir. Give them a term in prison, but don’t kill them.”

“My hands are tied. They’ve been convicted of first-degree murder. The mandatory sentence is execution.”

“But surely there is a case for an appeal. If, Justice, you yourself put in a recommendation for mercy to Ottawa, it would have a huge effect. They would have to respond. You could save their lives.”

Harvey stopped his preparations for a moment. “I’m not going to do that, Jack. I will be standing there when they hang, and I will observe the just and successful prosecution of the guilty.”

IT WAS STILL WELL BEFORE NOON
when the Calgary express pulled up to the platform in Edmonton with a long sigh, as if exhausted from the journey north. Among the passengers who disembarked were two soldiers in uniform. There were many men in uniform in the town, but these two, a captain and a corporal, were distinctive. The captain was short and wiry, with a full, well-cultivated moustache. The right sleeve of his jacket had been folded and pinned neatly over the place where his arm had been. He was attended by a brawny corporal carrying their kit bags, who stayed carefully behind him and to one side. They did not speak to each other. Each wore the distinctive white arm band of the military police.

AFTER THE VERDICT, Angituk sat with the hunters without speaking, for what encouragement could she offer? Uluksuk saw her distress and told her to go for a walk. She obeyed, and returned to the bank of the river.

She was somehow comforted by the contemplation of the muddy, swirling water. And there she reached a decision after everything that had happened. She needed someone to be with. After the pain and disappointment of the night before, and after the tragic verdict in the trial that morning, she knew she had been alone too long. The dream of her father and a family of her own had been destroyed, but she was left with deep yearnings. As she stared down into the dark current, she determined to set out and talk to Creed. He was a good man and she loved him, though he had been so distant lately. Now that the trial was over, maybe they could go north and rediscover what they had had before on the Great Bear and the Coppermine. It would not be with their friends Uluksuk and Sinnisiak, but they would burn sweetgrass for the hunters and remember them to the spirits up there, who perhaps could ease their pain.

Angituk suddenly realized, like a great bolt of wisdom, that the most important thing in the world was love. It was not to be taken for granted. It was not to be counted upon or even expected. It was hard to find—a special gift from the good spirits. And after love was family—not the family of a wealthy white man in Edmonton, but her mother’s people in the North. And the family she and Creed could make.

CREED WAS WAITING
in the hotel dining room. Nicole was late, but that she had agreed to come at all was a relief. He rubbed his temples to ease a headache. He needed his wits about him if he were going to save the lives of Sinnisiak and Uluksuk.

He had gone first to Superintendent Worsley to ask for his official support for clemency toward the two convicted, to stop the executions. Worsley was sympathetic but completely unwilling to take sides.

“We are police officers, Creed. It’s not our job. You know, I hate to say this,” Worsley told him, “but it might be for the best. What is the alternative? They’re fine fellas, but … they’re wild. Like animals. How long would they last cooped up in a jail cell?”

Creed stared at him as he thought about this.

NICOLE WAS SILENT
as he stood up and greeted her. She hesitated and then sat, and he pulled his chair over closer to her.

“Nicole. I was very rude to you. I apologize.”

She was far from sold yet. He continued.

“This has been a long ordeal, but I had no right to take it out on you.”

She looked at him for the first time. “You’re right. I didn’t appreciate it.”

“They’re my friends.”

“And what am I?”

“I hope we can get past this. Do you think that’s possible?”

He gave her a tentative smile and the corners of her lips responded ever so slightly. The angry fire in her hazel eyes cooled.