St. Clair (Gives Light Series) (27 page)

defeated.

I looked sideways at Rafael, his jaw square, his

hand curling and uncurling in a fist. I took his hand

and threaded his fingers with mine. There was

nothing we could do right now, and he'd only get in

trouble if he tried.

The ride back to Arizona was eerie. The eight of

us sat in silence, so distant from one another that

we might as well have stood on opposite ends of

the world. No one turned on the radio. No one

said a word. Each of us was definitely upset--but

that's just the thing. If you're Shoshone, you're not

going to talk about how upset you are.

On and off I slept, scarcely even aware when we

stopped and changed drivers. I peered out the

window, half-awake, and breathed with relief

when the road sign read: Route 89. I slapped my

face to regain some awareness. It was early in the

morning when the SUV pulled onto the

reservation. I swung my duffel bag over my

shoulder and climbed out of the car, my legs like

rubber. Aubrey made his way across the parking

lot toward us and clapped me on the shoulder.

"What do you think all that was about?" he asked

dolefully.

Rafael shrugged, brooding.

The same question was on my mind. Was it really

a matter of land jurisdiction? Maybe I was being

paranoid. But the way that woman had catalogued

the crowd, like she was looking for someone...

Could the FBI have thought they'd catch Dad at the

Bear River Memorial? Well, I hated to break it to

them, but Dad was a lot smarter than that.

"Come," Granny said to me. "We'll see what your

father's up to."

I waved goodbye to Rafael and Aubrey. I put my

arm around Granny's back and we walked together

down the dirt road.

The morning sky was a soft, watercolor blue,

clouds tinted rose where the brand new sun had

graced them with its rays. Fresh leaves dusted the

topmost branches of the empty oak trees, a promise

of rebirth, and the robins sang to one another from

the refuge of their foliage. Winter was drawing to

a close. Spring was on its way. I smiled in spite

of myself. Maybe this spring would look treat us

better than this winter had.

My smile fell when we climbed the steps to our

front porch and found a notice pinned to the door.

"What on earth?" said Granny.

I could hear my heart thudding in my chest. I

ripped the paper off the door. Granny and I bent

our heads to read it together.

Pima County Consolidated Justice Court
, the

notice read.
You have just been served with an

Eviction action. You are required to relinquish

your home in twelve (12) days to the Plaintiff

(Arizona Department of Transportation).

I read the notice a second time. The blood pooling

in my fingers felt cold.

Granny drew a sharp breath. She took the paper

from my hands and sealed her eyes shut.

Bleakly, I looked around the reservation. This had

to be a dream. How could they kick us out of our

house? What had happened to the requirement that

the land had to be undeveloped before they could

steal it uncontested?

Doors all over the reservation swung open.

Families started shouting frantically to one another

across the lane. I saw Annie walk out onto her

porch, her house only thirty yards from ours. In

her hands, too, was an official white paper.

Our eyes met across the distance. In all the time

that I'd known her, it was the first time she looked

like she didn't know what to do.

"What's going on?"

"Why is everybody outside?"

"Did you see--?"

I sat down on the porch steps, the reservation

buzzing with conversation, my head buzzing with

disbelief. I folded my hands atop my knees. Okay,

I told myself. We're going to find a way out of

this. We have to.

I rubbed my eyes with my knuckles and looked

over my shoulder. Dad and Granny were sitting

together on the porch.

"...Racine pick up the kids," I heard Dad say.

"I'm going to talk to Nola," Granny said firmly.

She stood from her chair and shuffled past the both

of us, down the steps and out on the lawn.

I didn't know what to do. Should I just pretend this

was any other day on the reserve? Eat breakfast,

set up Granny's loom, head to Annie's to help her

cook?

Dad rubbed his face with his palms.

"You know what this is about," he said to me

through his hands. "Don't you?"

My nerves jumped. I didn't know for sure. Dad

didn't know for sure.

"I'm going to turn myself in," Dad said.

I jumped up. I don't know what I was thinking.

Maybe I thought I would physically stop him.

"Please," Dad said, sounding as though he wasn't

up for arguing. "Do you really think I should let

our friends lose their homes? It's obvious the

government only wants this land so they can

prosecute me on it. To be fair, I did commit a

crime."

Fair? I stared at him. How was that fair? I didn't

like what he'd done any more than the government

did, but there's a difference between coldblooded

murder and stopping a serial killer. Did Dad

really think Rafael's father stopped at seven lives?

I didn't. Not for a second.

"I have to go," Dad said.

I lifted the hem of my shirt. I grabbed his hand and

put it on my stomach tube.

It's really low. I know it is. But I wanted to tell

him:
I'm sick. The disease is gone, but it could

come back. I can't swallow and I feel like I'm six

again and I need you to stay here. I need you to

stay safe.

He looked so dejected, it broke my heart in two.

"I don't see how your friends are going to fix it this

time," Dad mumbled.

I was glad I couldn't admit it: I didn't see how,

either.

All day that day, families sat on their porches and

rarely went inside. I think they figured if they

were sitting in front of their homes, no one could

tear them down. I recalled the threat about the

SWAT team at Bear River and thought otherwise.

Nor did I think this kind of silent protest could last

very long. There was still a lot of work to be done

around the reservation, like tending to the

windmills and watering the crops.

Dad and Granny and I sat on our porch while

visitors came to chat about the eviction notice.

"Mother's at a loss," Mr. Red Clay said. He

looked like he was at a loss, too. "She's not even

sure this is legal. Claiming developed land

without a court summons?" Ms. Siomme, who had

accompanied him, remained calm. She always

remained calm. "I'm sure we'll figure something

out," she said good-naturedly. "We might have a

lawsuit on our hands."

Annie came looking for me a little after noon.

Stuart wants us
, she signed to me.

Dad frowned. He didn't know sign language, but

I'm sure he had his ideas.

Annie and I walked the lane down to the

countryside, each of us as tense as the other. I put

an arm around her shoulders and she seemed to

relax. We pushed open the aged doors to the

flourmill, the sounds of loud chatter leaking

through the chips in the wood, and stepped in.

Stuart wasn't the only one waiting inside. I did a

double take. There had to be sixty or seventy kids

in that tiny, crowded room. Some of them I'd

never even seen in the schoolhouse before, which

led me to believe they were homeschooled.

Everyone was talking at the same time. Only

Stuart wasn't talking. I spotted his auburn head in

the middle of the mob and wondered what was

going through his mind.

"I was right," Holly said. She happened to speak

up at precisely the same time that most of the other

conversations lulled. "I said they'd knock down

our houses if they had to. I knew it."

"I wish I could strangle you," Daisy said.

"But this isn't legal, is it?" Aubrey asked. "Didn't

that law say they could only take the land away if

we hadn't done anything with it?"

I jolted. This wasn't Kelo v. New London. This

was Cherokee Nation v. Southern Kansas

Railway. Way back in the 1800s, the Supreme

Court ruled that the welfare of an Indian

reservation was less important than something

everyone else could make use out of. Like a

railroad.

Arizona Department of Transportation. That's

what's going on, I thought, delirious. They can

knock down the entire reservation as long as they

plan on building something transport-related on top

of it. Like a train station, or a freeway.

"It doesn't matter," Stuart said suddenly. Everyone

turned to look at him. "If it's illegal, they'll make it

legal. That's what it means to have power. We

don't have to figure that out. What we have to

figure out is how we're going to stop it."

"The radio!" Prairie Rose In Winter shrieked.

It was pretty impressive how no one looked twice.

"I know, I know what we're gonna do!" Prairie

Rose bounced on her heels. "We could use the

radio to tell everyone we're in trouble! Then

they'll help us fight the government!"

"There's a problem with that," Sarah Two Eagles

said. "The only way anyone would hear our

broadcast is if they tuned in to the Nettlebush radio

station. And we're not a national station."

"But there are about six million people living in

Arizona," Annie said. "That's nothing to sneeze

at."

"Even so, how would we get all six million to

listen to us?"

Everyone started talking at once.

"Quiet!" Stuart said.

Daisy snickered. "Hey, Prairie Rose," she said. "I

liked your Loch Ness Monster idea better. Ow!"

Prairie Rose had bit her.

Stuart's eyes were exceptionally tired. I wondered

whether he'd slept at all since the failed trip to

Bear River. "Is there any actual way to do that?"

he asked. "Breaking into other radio stations with

our message?"

"There's got to be a way," his sister Siobhan said.

"Don't you think? The Emergency Alert System

does it all the time."

Their

little

brother

Morgan

looked

very

uncomfortable. He skulked over to Lila's side, but

Lila showed him no sympathy.

"It's like Wintermute," Rafael said. "That AI in

Neuromancer
, and how it wants to merge with the

other AI and hijack the whole network."

"Raf, you know most of us aren't nerds, right?"

Daisy said.

"Well," Aubrey said, before Rafael could blow his

lid, "actually, there is a way to interrupt radio

signals. It's not quite legal, though--"

"I don't care whether it's legal or not. Tell us,"

Stuart said.

"Aah, okay. Well, in theory, if you want to hijack

another radio station, all you need to do is figure

out what frequency they're broadcasting with, then

broadcast a stronger signal at the same frequency."

Stuart looked at him. "Could we actually do that?"

"Probably?" Aubrey winced. "Our tower relies

on an analog signal generator, so it's entirely

possible, but it would require a lot of guess-and-

check--and it's
illegal
, it's called a DoS attack and

we could all get thrown in jail--"

"We're juveniles. They're not going to put us in

prison."

"I'm eighteen," said a surly Rafael.

"Then stay away from the radio tower and you

should be fine."

Rafael scowled.

"The truth is," Stuart said, "people in power only

get that way because people without power let

them. If we could actually get enough people on

our side--millions, like Annie said--"

"Pretty big 'if,' " Holly said.

"Would you stop being such a Debbie Downer?"

Daisy said.

"Well, which one of you has a better idea?" Stuart

said.

The resultant silence was his answer: Nobody

did.

"Aubrey," Stuart said, "can you figure out how to