Chapter 18
" No, I’m not kidding," Gideon said. "They thought it sounded like the greatest thing since canned peaches."
"Prison?" Julie said. "How could that be?"
How, indeed. He turned onto his back with his hands under his head, looking at the slice of cloudy, moonlit sky beyond the curving edge of the rocky overhang, and thought about the remarkable conversation in the hut. They were lying fully clothed in the sleeping bag, at the base of the giant boulder that shielded the village-to the consternation of the Yahi, who had been flabbergasted when they refused the hospitality of their fire-warmed huts, preferring to sleep outside.
"It is the way of the saltu," Gideon had explained mysteriously, and they had gravely said, "Aah."
"Actually," Gideon said, "I hadn’t wanted to talk to them about jail at all. The more I thought about it, the more insane the idea seemed. What possible purpose could it serve?"
She lay on her side, her cheek resting on her clasped hands. "I couldn’t agree with you more."
"So I started telling them we might find them a reservation: land of their own, streams to fish, animals to hunt, a place where they could have their village, live their lives in peace, and so forth."
"You were able to say all that in Yahi?"
"Pretty much. At a kindergarten level."
"And?"
"And they didn’t know what I was talking about. They said they already had all that right now. So somehow I got to talking to them about prison. I think I was trying to explain how much better life would be on a reservation than in a prison. And"-he burst out laughing-"well, I told them that prison was a big hut made of stone… Clever, what? And they asked if it kept the rain out, and I said yes, it did. They asked if it was warm, and I said yes. They asked if it was light at night-I guess they’ve seen the buildings around Lake Quinault from a distance-and naturally I said it had lights. I could see the way they were looking at each other, especially Shy Buffalo and Keen Eagle, so I told them it was bad; they’d have to stay inside all the time and never go out."
"And that didn’t give them second thoughts?"
"Yes, it did. Keen Eagle asked how they could get food if they didn’t go out, and I told them-"
"-someone would bring their food to them."
"That’s about the size of it. They can’t wait to go."
"That’s fascinating," Julie said. "All I did was learn how to make Yahi baskets. And I told Gray Sparrow my name, even if it’s gauche. She liked it; it made her laugh. She calls me ‘Dooley.’"
"Dooley," Gideon said. "I like it, too. She didn’t tell you hers, did she?"
"No, she fell asleep after an hour, holding that silly turtle. She’s really sweet, Gideon: shy, and happy, and ready to be friends. I’m glad I got a chance to meet her. I wish I could have talked to her."
She turned over on her back. The night was mild, and the sides of the bag were unzipped, giving them plenty of room. "What about Big Cheese?" she said after a while. "Was he so anxious to go to jail?"
"I don’t know. He didn’t say a word the entire time. Just watched, with that superior look on his face. Keen Eagle and Shy Buffalo did all the talking. Not that there was much talking, except for me."
Gideon sat up and clasped his arms around his knees. "You know, when I was telling them how we’d found Claire Hornick in Pyrites Creek, and Eckert and Hartman in the graveyard, I had the distinct impression that Keen Eagle and Shy Buffalo thought it was all a story made up for their amusement. They chuckled every time I mentioned something that was familiar-the villages, the graveyard, the creek-the way a child does when you tell him an exciting story and put him and his house and his street into it. But Big Cheese wasn’t laughing: I wouldn’t say he looked exactly worried, but pretty close; he certainly wasn’t enjoying it."
Julie sat up and leaned her back against Gideon’s shoulder, looking off into the night. "Were we right, then, do you think? Big Cheese has been doing the killing on his own, and the others don’t even know about it?"
"Except for Startled Mouse. I think he knows. He spent most of the time looking at Big Cheese with a funny look on his face. You know, I’m pretty sure I owe him my life. Big Cheese must have hit me down on the gravel bar, and Startled Mouse must have come along and frightened him off before he-"
" Frightened Big Cheese? Startled Mouse?"
"Not physically frightened, of course. But he may be his grandfather, for all we know, or a great-uncle, and that’d give him a lot of authority in Yahi culture. Just being an elder would, for that matter."
Gideon swung his legs out of the bag and began to pull on his boots. "Let’s move the sleeping bag," he said.
"Move it? Why?"
"Big Cheese knows exactly where we are. If he’s planning anything for us tonight, I’d like to make it hard for him to find us."
"But the others wouldn’t let him do anything, would they?"
"Who knows? Remember, we might be reading this wrong. Maybe they’re all involved in it. Maybe this is their standard modus operandi: Feed the saltu, lull them into a peaceful night’s sleep, and then, in the dark of the night, stalk out of their huts with those grisly spears-"
"All right. I’m convinced. Brr."
They found what seemed to be a good place atop the huge boulder itself: a fracture in the rock that provided a rough but nearly horizontal shelf about ten feet above the ground. The moon gave enough light through the thickening cover of ragged clouds to let them find their way quietly up the rock face, and they settled in quickly. They had a wide field of vision, so that anyone creeping toward them would be easy to see. Gideon had left Julie’s jacket and his poncho below, laid out to resemble a sleeping bag.
"That’s better," he said, placing the stone ax a foot from where his head would lie. "Let’s hope it doesn’t rain. We’re out from under the overhang."
"Gideon," Julie said, "what do we do now? I mean tomorrow."
"Nothing, really. I think we’ve accomplished all we can. John will get my note in the morning and head right out. I think we just have to keep talking to them until he gets here. Then, at least, they’ll be in custody-peacefully-and the killings will be over."
"And then what will happen to them?"
"Assuming that it’s Big Cheese who’s been doing the killing-I don’t know what will happen to him. You couldn’t just let him run loose. As for the others, Abe is working on getting some land; someplace remote. It’s too bad they can’t stay here. Or could they?"
"I don’t think so. The Matheny trail is still in our development plan. They’ll be starting to work on it again next year. Besides, how could you have a reservation in the middle of a national park?"
"You know," Gideon said, pulling a hazy item from his memory, "there was a case in Florida in which an Indian-a Seminole, I think-had killed a white man. The defense was based on the fact that the United States had never signed a peace treaty with the Seminoles, and therefore the killing was an act of war, not murder. I wonder if something like that might apply here."
"How did the case turn out?"
"I don’t remember."
"Very instructive, Professor." Julie finished unlacing her boots and got under the top flap of the sleeping bag. "Maybe we’d better get ourselves some sleep and worry about it tomorrow. I guess we ought to take turns staying awake, shouldn’t we?"
"Right," Gideon said, sliding in beside her. He was on the outside of the ledge, toward the huts. "I’ll take the first watch." He reached for the ax to make sure he knew where it was. "Not that I really expect anything to happen."
"All right," Julie said, already yawning, and snuggling up to his back. "Promise to wake me in two hours?"