Shushanna Junction received its name because it was the jumping-off point for the Shushanna gold rush of 1913. Shushanna became Chisana, but Shushanna Junction remained the spelling for the terminal at CRNW mile 189. The last great Alaskan gold rush went nowhere, but the huge influx of prospectors resulted in a depletion of the game to such an extent that the Ahtnas abandoned the area for the duration of the operation of the railroad. The Ahtnas became a vanishing minority in their own land, displaced by a host of prospectors, speculators, homesteaders, and con-artists, as well as large and small mining concerns and other business interests. All of these were by their nature hostile to the old Ahtna way of life and, in varying degrees, even to the Ahtna people themselves. In 1924, Alaska’s Last Great Gold Rush had been over eight years. The game had slowly filtered back in. But the Indians who had lived and hunted in the upper Wrangells stayed out. Indians no longer walked the old trails of the Nizina valley and the upper reaches of the Chitina in search of game. That area was totally dominated by white miners, prospectors, and trappers. Even the old Nicolai camp at Dan Creek had disappeared under mine tailings--a victim of a large hydraulic placer operation begun by Stephen and Howard Birch. In an ironic and mocking twist, someone re-named the operation Nicolai Camp. The two grandsons of the great deceased chief watched from the station platform as the ultimate symbol of change pulled in. The huge Mikado steam engine chugged its way into Shushanna Junction towing forty-three cars loaded with mine workers and enough material to build a completely new power plant at Kennecott. “In they come with another large piece of the mine. Out they will go with another load of our copper.” “Just as they’ve been doing for thirteen years, Cap. Now we’re a part of it. We’ll be in one of those cars going to work with all those other men.” The stationmaster stepped outside through the baggage double-doors to talk with the two Indians. “You guys have a good time in town?” “It was good while the money lasted. You ever go to the Row?” The young, red-haired stationmaster smiled at the question. “No. I can’t afford it on my meager railroad salary. You must be miners. I came here to work the line and now I’ve got one of these depot jobs. Not bad, but it’s expensive to live here. What about you guys? I’ve never seen Indians heading up the tracks to work at Kennecott before. You’re probably the first ever. I hope it works out for you.” “Thanks. It wasn’t easy getting a job there, but the power plant fire seems to have caused a need for extra men.” “I’ll say. All those men on board are mainly extra carpenters and others needed to re-build it. You’ve probably figured out where all the material is going.” “Have they been out of power all this time?” “Oh, no. The Kennecott mechanics came down two days after the fire and took out the two generators and turbines in the old Mother Lode plant. That was handy for them. A real stroke of luck, actually that Kennecott happened to own the old power plant. They’d have been down for weeks without that equipment. The generators are temporary, though. Too small. The new ones haven’t arrived yet, but they’ll be coming along. Meanwhile, the camp seems to be back to normal. I hear they’re having power supply problems, however.”
“Better than no power at all, I suppose.” “The mines superintendent couldn’t be more pleased. He has a production schedule to meet. He intends to keep it. He’s the real boss around here, you know.” “By the way, who are you?” “I’m Mike Sherman. And you?” “My name’s Johnny Gadanski. My silent partner here is Cap Goodlataw.” “Nice to meet you two. I’m from Seattle. We have Indians down there, but you’re the first I’ve met face-to-face in this territory.” “Well, Mike, we’re not much different from you.” Cap scowled. “Except we live in the home of our ancestors. This is our country.” “Some of us younger guys understand that. Like I said, I hope it works out for you up there. How on earth did you do it?” “My dad works there and I know one of the engineers.” “You mean the name on the telegraph--Frank . . .” “Buckner. I don’t know him that well, but he offered to help get us in, and it looks like he’s keeping his word. He’s about the same age as you--or us.” “I’m twenty-three.” “We’re both twenty-five. We’re cousins. Call each other sla’cheen. There’s no word for that in English.” “Your father works at Kennecott?” “Emil Gadanski is my white father. He’s the head-painter.” “So you’re a half-breed?” “That’s me. My mother is a sister to Cap’s father, Chief Goodlataw.” “Chief?” “Where there’s Indians, there’s chiefs, Mike. You should have figured that one out.” “You two cousins must have worked together a long time. You two seem to fit well together somehow. Were you railroad workers?” “We were. We still are. We’ve worked off and on as a team since 1916 when we started out at Cascade Station. We’ve worked on the Indian crews out of Chitina and Strelna.” “Ah, yes. The indispensable Native crews.” “Indispensable?” “We stationmasters have to keep track of the line crews as well as all the trains. It’s common knowledge that it would be impossible to keep our tight railroad schedule without the Indian crews, but I doubt if anyone ever told you that.” “No. We suspected as much, though. It’s good to know we’re so important.” “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. The railroad could never muster enough manpower every season if not for you Indians at Chitina.” “The train will be ready soon, but in the meantime, I have some coffee on the stove. Care for some?”
“You’re a good man, Mike . . .” “Sherman. It’s Mike Sherman. I’ll be right back. Two cups?” Cap nodded. Mike Sherman was back outside in a few minutes. “It’s still good. A little strong maybe. I just made it before the train arrived.” Mike sat down on the platform next to Johnny. The feet of the three men dangled toward the ground. “I’m pleased to talk with young people like me who have lived here all their lives. This must be a big change from when you grew up.” “You mean this railroad? We were both nine when the ket-chee-ten-eh arrived.” “Ket-chee-ten-eh? Train?” Johnny nodded. “You just gave me my first Native word.”
“You can call us Natives or Indians, but we’re Ahtnas. Whatever you do, don’t call us Eskimos. Ahtnas are Athabascan Indians. We Athabascans share some of the same words as the Apache and the Navaho.” Mike’s eyes widened. He sipped a cup of coffee and looked around. Then he focused on Cap. “Really? You’re not just an isolated group of Indians then?” “Not at all,” Johnny answered. Cap nodded in agreement. “We’re just part of a much greater people. Our elders tell us we came here from somewhere way south. Something bad happened over a thousand years ago. We don’t know when. It could have been much farther back then that. But whatever it was that happened way down there, it drove our ancestors into the land of the ice and the snow.”
“But I thought that your ancestors crossed over here from Siberia?” “Us? Not us. That was the Eskimos. The Yupiks and the Inupiat crossed. We’re Indian hillbillies.” “What do you mean by that?” “Grandfather told us that in times long forgotten we were part of a great civilization in the south. When things went very bad and our ancestors fled north, we lost our old refined ways because the land here is so primitive and cold. Long ago this land was a frontier for us, just like it was for the prospectors who came here a few years ago. We may be cruder than our southern cousins, but we survived here a long time. We made it. No one else can make that claim. Only the toughest and the smartest of us survived. That’s Cap and me. We’re the smart and the tough ones. There are others just like us. You couldn’t ever drive us out of here. You’d have to kill every one of us. Every one.” “Not us. We know we have to live with you guys. I just never gave much thought to any of you Indians before.” “Happens all the time. We’re here, but we’re invisible to you whites.” “Sorry. You’re right.” “Was it very wild where you grew up before the railroad, the ket-chee-ten-eh arrived?” “That’s good, Mike. Ket-chee-ten-eh means train. Ket-chee-ten-eh thloo-da-kee means railroad. And yes, it was wild. But I can always remember white men there at Chittyna. They’ve been there at least since I was born.” Chit-tee-nah?” “That’s what they called it until someone changed it so it sounded more white. I still prefer the old -sounding name.” “You grew up in the old Indian way?” Johnny and Cap both nodded. A single blast from the train whistle interrupted the conversation. The young stationmaster pointed south toward the main part of town and continued. “Ordinarily the engineer would back this train down this siding toward town. Not this time. Sal Reed will be pulling the consist north in a few minutes. That was the first warning signal. Sal’s almost ready. Everything and everyone on board is going to Kennecott.” “We need to load up now?” “Not yet. I’ll let you know. I’ll be giving the conductor the all-clear soon. Then they’ll pull forward to that siding past the repair barn. Then the crew will hook up our pusher.” “Pusher?” | |||||||||||||
 | |||||||||||||
CRNW conductor --Cordova Museum Continue |
15 December 2010
Ch 26, Pt 1: "Arrival at Kennecott
19 November 2010
Intermission, Pt 3
It is time to pack this project up for awhile. I have a stateside family-visit trip coming up and all the preparations that go with it. Each chapter you see here takes about a half day to set up, mostly due to the need to locate and re-scan the original images and find other images that are relevant to each chapter. With 25 chapters now on line I feel that I have done enough for the time being. I note that these writings are already been found through Google searches.
It is my sincere wish that many people gain access to these chapters which cover a fascinating period in Alaskan history within the Copper Valley. The images themselves make it worthwhile to view these 25 chapters and the preface.
You all have a happy Thanksgiving.
My regards,
Ron Simpson
NOTE: Since I wrote this post I decided to add one chapter well ahead of the others because it is so timely: "Frank's Thanksgiving Letter," Chapter 46.
UPDATE: almost midnight of Feb 10: I have finally caught up with Chapter 46, "Frank's Thanksgiving Letter." As of now the entire first 46 chapters plus the Preface are finally on line. I now have only 14 chapters to go to complete this book on line.
My regards,
Ron
It is my sincere wish that many people gain access to these chapters which cover a fascinating period in Alaskan history within the Copper Valley. The images themselves make it worthwhile to view these 25 chapters and the preface.
You all have a happy Thanksgiving.
My regards,
Ron Simpson
NOTE: Since I wrote this post I decided to add one chapter well ahead of the others because it is so timely: "Frank's Thanksgiving Letter," Chapter 46.
UPDATE: almost midnight of Feb 10: I have finally caught up with Chapter 46, "Frank's Thanksgiving Letter." As of now the entire first 46 chapters plus the Preface are finally on line. I now have only 14 chapters to go to complete this book on line.
My regards,
Ron
Ch 25, Pt 2: "Buckner to Goodlataw"
Legacy of the Chief, Chapter 25: "Buckner to Goodlataw-1924" |
click on picture for larger image: some of these images appear in the book for this chapter. |
  By the time the two Indians arrived back in McCarthy it was after 10 a.m. John Barrett dropped them off at the Golden. They walked down to the Row. She was there. Rose practically threw herself all over Johnny. Cap could see that this might take awhile. “Maybe I should leave you two alone? I can always go up to the Mecca, I suppose.” “No, we both need to walk up to the railroad station and telegraph Kennecott. Rose, can you take my dog, Kay-yew-nee for a while?” “What do you think I am, Johnny, your wife? This not really my place, you know. Madam Kate might not like it, then I’d have to let him go.” “Do your best. We have work at Kennecott. If it comes to that, the dog will take care of himself. He’s been on his own even when he’s been with me these last eight years. He’ll do fine, but I still am hoping you will keep him here. It’ll give me an even greater reason to visit you.” Rose looked at him, placing her hands on her hips. “You mean to say I am more valuable to you as a dog watcher than as a woman? Johnny, I don’t know . . .” “I’m sorry, Rose, I didn’t mean it to come out that way. But can you keep him here?” He was determined to get her to agree. “If you two party with us girls tonight.” “Now you’re talking.” “Rose, we have to go up to the station and telegraph a fellow named Frank at Kennecott to let him know we’re coming. We’ll come back after that. Can you get us a couple bottles? We got paid.” “See you back there Johnny. You too, Cap. I’ll get Bubbles for you !” “We can’t do this more than one night, Johnny.” “We won’t. I’ll let Frank know to expect us tomorrow.” Cap found Rose’s cabin to be cleaned up compared with the last visit. The place still had a cluttered look, but nothing much different than many of the Chittyna village homes. Cap did not concern himself with the next day and neither did Johnny. The liquor was rough, but it did the trick. So did the women. Cap’s eyes opened. The sun was shining brightly through the partly-torn window shade. He focused on a stale-smelling room. He was on a small bed wearing nothing. Bubbles had already left. He couldn’t remember very much. He pulled himself up from the bed. There was an empty bottle lying on the floor along with his rumpled clothes. It smelled of booze and stale cigarettes. He pulled on his heavy pants and wandered out of the tiny room. There was another next to it. He pulled the dirty curtain aside. Johnny was still in there with Rose. Neither was moving. “Johnny ! The sun’s out bright ! We better get ready to head for the station. They’ll be expecting us.” No movement. He climbed over the discarded clothes toward the bed and shook Johnny’s shoulder. “Sla’cheen ! We have to move ! His eyes opened. Johnny did not appear too pleased to have Cap there yelling in his ear. “Go away ! Go to the station and send another telegram. I’m not leaving today.” “Great, Johnny. Same as last time.” “Don’t worry, Cap. Bubbles will bring back another bottle. She had other business. Had to leave after you passed out last night. Had to make money. Kate got her.” “Oh, I have a headache, now ! That’s not what I needed to hear, Johnny.” “We’ve got plenty of money. Might as well enjoy it, Cap. Relax. We’ll get there later. Not now. It’s been too long.” Cap turned and left the cramped room. He walked out into the sitting area. There was a card table out there. A bottle on the table still had liquor in it. He took a seat and then had a swig from the bottle. He can walk up there himself and send his own telegram. If I have to be here, then here is exactly where I’m going to be. I need to get over this hang-over anyway. Cap began playing solitaire. The table was a mess. Cap was angry. He swept everything beyond the cards and the bottle off the table. Cups, a candle stick and several plates with unfinished meals went flying. There. That’s better. Now I can concentrate on my private little card game. Someone else can clean up the mess. That’s what the women are for. He took another swig. The door opened, letting in more bright light and cool, fresh air. It was Bubbles. She had two large bottles with her.
“Cap, you want to party? Your buddy paid for this booze. We might as well enjoy it.” “Might as well. Join me in a game of crib? I think I knocked a crib board onto the floor?” She looked down. Her face showed some distress. Then she looked at Cap. “You’re a very good-looking man. Muscular and handsome. Let’s have some fun. I’ll clean up this mess later.” Cap looked up at the well-formed, if somewhat plump young lady. No doubt about it, she was worth the money. “You mean in the back room?” “Where else?” Johnny finally stumbled into Cap’s small room. He found Cap passed out on the mattress. “Bubbles ! What happened to Cap?” “I’m up front playing solitaire. What did you say?” “Cap. He’s passed out. What happened?” “What do you suppose? We had fun. He passed out. Just when I was getting there, too. Typical man. He’s a real sweetie, though. Not rough like I thought he’d be.” “But did he make it to the railroad station to send a telegram?” “I don’t think so. I got here with the bottles and he was right here where I’m sitting playing cards. He was so cute, too.” “I better get up to that telegraph station. What about the bottles? I know you must have brought them, or Cap would be awake now.” “I brought two. He didn’t need much. Three shots and he was gone. The rest is over there by the wash stand.” Sure enough. Only one of the bottles had been tapped. It still was almost full. Johnny looked at the open one and then thought about Rose. “Rose, you up?”  Abandoned houses at McCarthy, 1960 --Jerry Cleworth photo “I’m getting ready for tonight, Johnny. Kate wants money. You’ll have to pay me to stay here. I need money for Cap, too.” “Sure, Rose, if that’s what you want. Got a bottle of whiskey up here. Want some before I head up to the station?” “No wine? Bubbles, why don’t you get us some wine? Let the men have the whiskey. We’re on duty here, you know.” “I know, sis. I’ll be right back.” She stood up from the table, leaning so Johnny would notice her full breasts. “You boys are staying another night or two, aren’t you?” “We’ll be here, Rose. We still have money. I just need to get to the station. Need to let the company know . . .” “The company can wait.” Bubbles poured Johnny a large glass. “Here’s to you and that sweetheart in the back room, dearie. We always love to have you stop by. Rose, I’m off !” “Johnny, don’t go off, yet. I’ve got some records to put on the Victrola.” The two of them sat on the coach. Rose handed Johnny his whiskey glass, then got back up and primped her hair in the mirror. She intended to keep the two men there as long as the money held out. It was two days later when the two Indians finally showed up at the Shushanna Junction depot. “What’ll we do, Johnny? You never sent a telegram. Neither did I.” “All we can do is show up, Cap. After all, his letter gave us five days.” “But you sent a telegram saying we’d be there three days ago.” “I did. I sure hope Frank and the others have a sense of humor. I’m sure we’re not the first men to do this. McCarthy is a very enticing place.” “Rose only kept us there for the money, you know.” “No she didn’t. She loves me.” “She does not. She took all your money, didn’t she?” “Not all of it.” “Not all of it? We don’t have enough for a night’s stay. Good thing the train ride is free to all us Indians, or we’d be walking all the way to Chittyna.” “Rose has to live too, Cap. It’s just business. Madame Kate. You know how she is. Tough old broad.” “No, I don’t know how she is. I never met her. But I have Rose figured out.” “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” “Well, yes I did.” “Then quit complaining, Cap. If we still have the jobs, great. If not, we can always get back on the railroad.” “Now you’re sounding more like a drunken Chittyna Indian and less like the white men you seem to like so much.” “Cap, I’m not feeling well enough to argue with you. Too big a hangover. Let’s just get to the train. You’re the one who said you heard the whistle. It’s got to be out there somewhere.” “I can hear that whistle for miles, Johnny. It’s probably still a long wait.” The two entered the station at the rail junction and found the telegraph operator busy at his desk. “Are you the two from Green Butte going to Kennecott?” “How did you know? ” Johnny asked, completely taken by surprise. “You evidently have a friend in high places,” the telegraph operator said somewhat sarcastically. “One of the engineers--a Frank Buckner--sent a telegraph message authorizing passage for two Indians coming from Green Butte. There you are.”
|
Ch 25, Pt 1: "Buckner to Goodlataw"
Legacy of the Chief, Chapter 25: "Buckner to Goodlataw-1924" |
click on picture for larger image: some of these images appear in the book for this chapter. |
“I expected this letter to come sooner, Cap. “Barrett won’t be happy, especially since other men had been leaving as well, but it’s time to go, Cap.” “What about Kay-yew-nee? They probably won’t allow him at Kennecott.” “I know they won’t. Dad already told me. I’ll have to leave him with Rose.” “Will she take him?” “I don’t know. I can only ask.” “We’ll have to let the boss know in the morning. Then we can walk the nine or ten miles into McCarthy tomorrow.” “Dad will never get any better. I’ve seen him so little in these last few years. At least now I will be able to be there to help.” The two ate a last late meal served by Harry. “You two leaving tomorrow.” “I never told anyone. How would you know?” “Harry know. Fix something special for you.” “What have you got cooking for us, Harry?” “Salmon and rice with tea. Fix veal cutlet for others earlier. This just for you.” “I’ll miss you, Harry. You’ve taken good care of us.” “No miss Harry. Just appreciate good cook. You work hard in mine. Deserve good food. Bosses happy.” “I haven’t told them yet. They won’t like it.” “Barrett and Harrison will understand. Happy to get month work out of you.” “We’re out of here early, Cap. We’ll need to work our way down the goat trail. The tram won’t be operating that early.” “I figured as much. Steep drop, but it looks like the trail goes all the way down. At least Kay-yew-nee can follow.” “I want to be at the boss’s office by seven to sign out.” “So, you two are quitting?” “Jacob ! How did you know?” “I could tell. Seen it dozens of times. The men get restless. Next thing you know, they’re gone. Harry always knows. He tries to fix them a special last meal.”
“Harry’s amazing.” “We think so. Wouldn’t trade him for anything.” “Let us tell Barrett ourselves, if he doesn’t already know.” “He doesn’t. Leaving early? The tram doesn’t operate until eight, you know.” “We’re taking the goat trail down. Want to be there at his office by seven.” “Good luck. It’s tricky. Good working with you guys. You did fine here.” Johnny could hear Cap sleeping in the overhead bunk. At least he’s handling it well. Nothing seems to ever bother him. Wish I could sleep like that. Hope we’re not walking into something we can’t handle. Oh well. Been there before. Just nothing quite this big. What could be larger than Kennecott? The two were up earlier than the rest of the crew. At about 5 a.m. they tortuously worked their way down the dangerously steep bank. It was not really a goat trail, but a bear path. The dog was happily following along, sniffing the air from time to time checking for predators. It took nearly two hours, but the pair showed up in time to find Barrett in the lower mess hall having coffee. waiting for breakfast. He knew right away that the Indians were leaving. “I hope this is not because of something we did to you?” I can see that you are on your way out of here. We’ve been happy with your work. If anything, you’ve helped our production by shaming some of the others into working harder.” “You have a good camp here, Mr. Barrett. The other workers have been fine, especially Jacob and Harry. No reflection on you or the camp. The both of us have been happy with the work here. It’s just time to move on. We have jobs at Kennecott.” John Barrett raised his eyebrows. That can’t be right. It’s been an unstated policy from the beginning over there that there won’t be any Indians hired. Something strange is going on. “Well, you two are really going places. What an accomplishment to land work up there.” “We thought so. It helps to know one of the engineers.” “You do? Which one?” “No one important. He just seems to have the ear of the superintendent there.” “You can always come back here, if things don’t work out. I don’t blame you for moving on to Kennecott. I have to admit they pay better and I hear the food is excellent. I hope it works out for you. I have a feeling it won’t be easy, but then both of you have proved to be an unusual team, so who knows?” “I feel badly about leaving like this.” “I’m sorry to lose you two, but that’s nothing new around here. Even Kennecott has a tough time holding onto help for very long. That’s just how it is. No point in any of us getting upset about it. “Sit down and have some coffee while I go to the office and work out your pay. You can have your breakfast here before you leave.” “Josephine! We have two more for breakfast here.” “Your wife’s still here?” “Oh, she’s been in and out. Can’t seem to keep a good cook down here. I need Harry in the upper camp. He keeps the crew well fed.” “We know. He’s special.” “How was the trip down the bear trail?” “It doesn’t go where we thought. It wound around that creek. Went way upstream before turning around. Took a long time.” “So I’ve heard, Cap. East Fork trail winds a long way. No bears?” “Not with Kay-yew-nee along.” “Oh yes. The dog. I hear he’s kept the bears away from the upper camp. They’re real pests up there. Down here, too. We have to watch the horses carefully. Don’t want to lose any to a bear. So far, so good. Well, I’ve got to get at the paperwork. See you a little later. Don’t plan on walking out, by the way. I’m taking you into McCarthy. Have to go in anyway. Might have a new cook and some new crewmen coming in on the train.” They were alone at the large dining table. Mrs. Barrett was in the back preparing breakfasts for them. The others had already eaten. “What do you think, Cap?” “About Barrett? He really surprised me. This has been a good camp. I have good memories from here. Good place.” 
  Continue with "Buckner to Goodlataw," pt 2 |
18 November 2010
Ch 24, Pt 4: "Green Butte Copper"
Legacy of the Chief, Chapter 24: "Green Butte Copper-1924" , pt 4, conclusion |
click on picture for larger image: some of these images appear in the book for this chapter. |
“This is the real country of Nicolai. He probably climbed this very ridge looking for debae.” “Sheep? Yes, we’re close to Tsedi Denyii. It was his favorite place.” “I feel close to him and all those who came before him up here. It’s like they’re right here with me. Maybe they are. “But being up here at Green Butte or down there in McCarthy, I still can’t help feeling like I have an intruder in my father’s house. I try not to let those feelings enter, but I am always reminded of how those graves at Eskilida Camp were disturbed. What would keep any of these men from doing something like that? They have no understanding of where they are or who we are. We’re the Native people. but they don’t care.” “I think some of them do, Cap” “Not in the same way we do. They have no roots. They are lost. Lost men who do not know where they are from or where they are going are desperate men. I think any one of them would turn on us in a moment.” “My Dad is one of those men, Cap.” “Did he raise you? No, he did not. Did he live in your village? No, he did not. He lives in the white man’s world. He always has. It is the world of the syndicate. It is Kennecott.” “Kennecott is just a name. Don’t give it power it does not have, Cap.” “Kennecott is those men who let our graves become disturbed and even robbed. It is the men who tried to cheat Nicolai and Billum and who still try to take from us what is ours.” “Cap, you cannot create a monster like that. It will eat you if you let it. Like the hex. Nicolai’s Curse. It feeds on itself and its creators. Kennecott is also people like Frank. Frank is with us. I know he is.” “Frank is with Kennecott. He works for Kennecott. He answers to Kennecott.” “I sure hope you don’t let any of them hear this, Cap.” “I only say this to you, Sla’cheen. I would not even say this to the other Natives, because they would only see the hate. We have to take part of what the white man has brought here for ourselves. We can’t fight them by staying away from them. They can try to ignore us, but we can’t ignore them. We have to face them as one. We were born to walk together, Sla’cheen--you and I--so we could help our people. Together we have power. If we are separated, we are doomed. Nicolai said so.” “You knew all along that I would insist you come with me to Kennecott, didn’t you Cap?” Johnny smiled, then knocked Cap off his seat. Cap leaned up on his elbows from the rough, wooden floor and laughed at Johnny. “I did not know. I only hoped. Since McCarthy, I have not been so sure if we could keep working together. We’re still here. We need to go there. To Kennecott. It waits for us. I can’t tell you why, but we both have to go there.” Johnny helped Cap back off the floor. “You didn’t hit me back, Cap. You could have knocked me over easily. You let me knock you down, didn’t you?” “I did. No point in proving something you already know.” “You’re a boxer, Cap. That’s what you are. That Cordova promoter wanted you to travel to the states to fight. You’re that good. We all know it, too. You need to go there. You’d make us all look good.” “This land around us is part of what we once were and still are. But out there is a strange world I do not understand. I choose to stay here in ‘Atna’ tuu Ts’ itu’. ” “Someday you may go out there to box. But if you never do, I’d sure understand, Cap. I feel the same way about Chittyna and Nicolai’s land of Denyii Tsedi, but a part of me wants more than just this. Going to Kennecott may be the key. It may be the way to get wherever it was I want to go. I just don’t know where that place is yet.” “At one time the Great Man made me an offer to see that I get more education. At least I think that’s what he meant. He mentioned it once again when we were playing billiards at the Mecca. He did not forget after eight years.” “I know. I guess I’ve known that ever since you told me about your billiards game with him just before you got the railroad job. I wonder how Schee’ ya would have felt about that.” “Grandfather? He never told me in so many words, but Stephen Birch did. Grandfather wanted something more for me. He made some kind of arrangement with Birch. I just don’t know exactly what was in the deal. I’ve often wondered about that, because I’m not so sure I’m up to it. Many of our own won’t listen to a half-white anyway. What good could I do for them?” “He’s Stephen Birch, not the Great Man. I wish you’d stop calling him that.” “Birch? He is the Great Man. He brought the railroad, developed the mines, changed everything. Maybe it did not work out that well for us, but he knows how to make things work.” “That’s very white of you, Johnny.” “I just admire people who make things happen. We can’t live in the past, Cap.” “We can’t forget it, either.” “We won’t Cap. I promise you that. Anyway, Schee’ ya seemed to like Birch, but he was no fan of the syndicate. He was intrigued by the railroad, but not pleased with everything it brought in. And he seemed to be impressed by the way they built Kennecott, while resenting all that ore leaving without benefiting us. So it’s not like it was a matter of black and white for him, either. “All I’m sure of is that he wanted us to remember who we were and do the right thing by our people, including getting a white man’s education. He pushed me into that, just like I shamed you into learning how to read well. I’m still who I always was. I’m Johnny Gadanski, grandson of Nicolai just like you. I may be half-white, but I still feel 100 percent Indian. It’s not easy being a half-breed, you know.” Cap stopped playing cards and looked at Johnny thoughtfully. “I know it’s been tough for you all your life. I sometimes wonder how you can possibly know who you are. Yet I know where your heart was. You don’t have to tell me. I wouldn’t be out here at all if not for you. You probably saved me from becoming another drunk by insisting that I come along.”
“Hey, Cap, you started this yourself by convincing George Brown to hire you. Then you followed me to Cascade Station. You can’t know how much that meant to me. I almost gave up on myself until you showed up. You gave me the power I needed to continue being who I am. I enjoy challenging these white men. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but many of them aren’t nearly as smart as either one of us. I notice you keep silent to hide your intelligence, but you’re every bit as smart as I am and probably a lot wiser, which was why you’ve never bored me. I wish the women I have known were as smart as you.” “Smart women? I don’t know about that, Johnny. Doesn’t sound like a good idea to me.” “Anyway, that fellow Frank over there at Kennecott is one of those more intelligent white men. He doesn’t seem to have any prejudice in his heart. He even stuck out his own neck to get me hired there. That’s probably never been done before. Not for an Indian. Imagine what it would be like if the two of us could work there--if only long enough to prove the point that we can work anywhere in our own country--and just as well or even better than anyone else.” “You’re asking a lot from Frank. He’ll probably be tearing his hair out when he gets your letter. But I don’t want the white men to feel too secure that they can run all over us in our own country, so I guess I’m still with you on this one as well.” “You better be, because we’re going.” “Haven’t you guys eaten yet?” “Harry! Cap, look who came up the stairs to check on us. It’s the Chinese cook himself.” “I’m an American just like you. You boys need to eat. I have pot roast on stove. Never mind me. I fix you dinner. You keep talking.” “No moose meat, Henry?” “It is moose meat. How you know?” “Henry, I’ll love you forever. How did you get your hands on . . .” “We Chinese have our ways. You two need to eat. Hard work in mine.” “Cap, you haven’t said anything!” “Okay, Johnny. Harry, good to see you! Let me help. You need Indian to fix moose meat.” “No Indian. Chinese-American cook well trained. You just sit. I fix!” Cap looked out the window to the west. The far canyon wall was now black. Overhead the stars were coming out. Somehow the time had slipped by. It was hours past dinner time. Since the men had first arrived in mid-July, the daylight hours had diminished considerably. The time had arrived where it was getting dark at night again. It was also one of those rare August nights when the Aurora Borealis makes an early appearance. As the two young men carried on their conversation while enjoying a late dinner of moose roast, the lights began to dance overhead, just as they had fourteen years before when Cap, Johnny, and Charlie sat on the grassy hill at Taral listening to their Schee’ ya tell them Nicolai’s Raven Story of Creation. The two men were too busy eating to notice it. “Harry, this is great. You make a tender moose roast that might just put my mother’s to shame.” “Sla’cheen !” “Well, it’s good, anyway.” “No need to tell Chinese-American. Harry knows he is good cook.” Harry brought over two tin cups and filled them with hot tea. “I leave you now. Hot tea in pot on stove. Dessert on counter. Chocolate cake tonight. Very good. Almost gone. Don’t love Harry. Just appreciate good cook. Good night.” Harry disappeared down the stairs to the cook’s quarters. “Johnny. No one beats your mother’s cooking.” “It’s not that good, Cap. That Harry really did a great job with this meat.” “Can’t say that to the whites. Can’t admit someone else can do it better.” “Harry’s Chinese.” “You know what I mean.” Cap glanced outside and finally noticed the Aurora Borealis. “Yaykass ! It’s the Yaykass, Sla’cheen. Just like at Taral, except it has come early!” “You mean when grandfather told us the story?” “Yes, that’s when I think it all started. He told us the story and it’s never been the same since. Maybe it’s Schee’ ya.
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