Dana Stabenow - Whisper to the Blood

"It'll be twenty years minimum before the gold runs out," she said, "and by then Global Harvest will have found something else worth harvesting. It's a big fucking Park, in case you hadn't noticed."

They laughed at that, Howie loudest of all, titillated by her use of profanity.

"You!" Bernie said, pointing at Johnny. "Get out, and don't come back for another five years!"

His voice was loud and meant to carry, so naturally all activity came to a halt while everyone turned to look where he was pointing. It was a technique that Bernie had perfected over the years in ridding the Roadhouse of wannabe underage drinkers.

Johnny felt his face redden. "I'm not looking for a drink, Bernie."

Any other time an underage entered the bar Bernie wouldn't let up until the door hit him in the ass. But then Bernie had not been the same since a year before, when Louis Deem had robbed his house of a greater part of Bernie's gold nugget collection and in the act of escaping had killed Bernie's wife and eldest son, Fitz. Fitz had been a friend of Johnny's, and he could not look at Bernie now without pain and sympathy. Bernie, unable to face it head on, turned his back abruptly and said in a hard voice, "Then get the hell on outta here."

Johnny caught Doyle Greenbaugh's eye, and nodded at the door. Greenbaugh nodded and said, "Take five, boss?"

Bernie nodded without looking around, and Greenbaugh snagged his coat and followed Johnny out on the porch. "Man, that Koslowski is one cranky old bastard."

Johnny stiffened. "He's a good guy, Doyle. He just lost his wife and son last year, and he's not over it yet."

"I heard. Helluva thing." Greenbaugh blew on his hands and shoved them into his pockets. His coat wasn't down and wasn't a parka, and he started to shiver almost at once. "How you doing, Johnny?"

"I'm fine. I dropped by Auntie Vi's to see if you'd shown up, and she said you were working here."

"Yeah, I remembered your stories about the place. I didn't believe the half of it when you told me." Greenbaugh grinned. "Especially the belly dancers."

Johnny laughed, appeased. "Now you know better."

"No kidding. Anyway, I told Bernie I was looking for work, so he put me on temporary while his regular barmaid is off."

Johnny remembered his dad saying that the Salvation Army was the best place to go for a bed and a meal when you were down to your last dime. It was the one charity Jack had been willing to write a check to, but there was no Sally's in the Park. A little shyly Johnny said, "Are you okay for cash?"

Greenbaugh shrugged. "I'm okay for now, but thanks for asking."

"Did you hear about the mine?"

Greenbaugh jerked his head at the bar. "Hard to miss, with the babe going full steam. She's been here for a couple hours now, talking it up to everyone who walks in."

"Did she talk to you?"

"She did." Greenbaugh grinned. "She says she thinks she might be able to find something for me. There are some real opportunities in this mine. Get in on the ground floor and a person can just coin the money, you know?" He winked at Johnny. "I'm hoping it ain't only a job, if you catch my drift." He nudged Johnny with a jocular elbow. "We're staying in the same boardinghouse, after all."

Johnny felt uncomfortable at sexual badinage with someone so much older than he was-the guy had to be in his thirties-so he pretended not to understand. "That's great, Doyle, I'm really glad to hear it. She told everybody up to the school that they were going to start taking applications immediately and that they'd start putting people to work on the first."

"Barely two weeks from now, I know. Howie Katelnikof was talking to me about it."

"What's Howie know about it?"

"He was the first guy she hired, caretaker out on the claim. He says he'll try to get me on next. He's a good guy."

"You're kidding."

Greenbaugh looked surprised. "No. Why would I be?"

Because, Johnny thought, every Park rat worthy of the name knew that Howie Katelnikof was the best excuse for preventive homicide the Park had ever seen. Because whenever a cabin was burgled, a snow machine stolen, a truck stripped for parts, Howie Katelnikof was the guy voted most likely to. Because Howie Katelnikof was always going to be the go-to guy in the Park to fence stolen property, buy a lid of dope or a hit of coke, and Jim Chopin was certain he was cooking up batches of crystal meth and selling it retail out of the homestead he and Willard Shugak had been squatting on since the death of Louis Deem.

But mostly because Howie Katelnikof had tried to kill him last year, and Kate, and he had almost killed Mutt. Johnny thought of himself as a pretty easygoing guy, but once he got pissed off he stayed pissed off, and he was pissed off at Howie for life. He opened his mouth to issue a warning of some kind, but he'd hesitated too long. Greenbaugh had something else on his mind. "Listen, kid, do me a favor?"

"Sure," Johnny said. "Not like I don't owe you about a hundred."

"I'm going by the name of Gallagher here. Dick Gallagher. Richard, if you want to get technical on me." He grinned again, but he was watching Johnny with a sharp eye.

"Oh," Johnny said inadequately. He rallied. "Um, I guess it's none of my business why."

Greenbaugh-Gallagher-shrugged. "I don't mind saying. There's stuff left over from my life I'd as soon be shut of." He grinned again. "Women, mostly. I want to start fresh, new life, new name, new job. Remember how you told me that day in Ahtna that a lot of people do that at the border crossing?"

Johnny had said that. "Yeah."

"Well, that's me, to the life. I'm starting over here, clean slate. So Dick Gallagher from now on, okay?"

Johnny thought back to earlier that day and making fry bread with Auntie Vi. Had Greenbaugh's-Gallagher's-name been mentioned? "Is that the name you're registered under at Auntie Vi's?"

"Yep. Started the way I mean to go on. So what do you say? Forget that loser Greenbaugh?"

It seemed ungrateful and unreasonable to refuse. What did it matter, anyway? A new name to go with a new life. Wouldn't be the first time that had happened in Alaska. He remembered the stories Kate had told him of her time in Prudhoe Bay, when the news cameras would come into the mess hall and half a dozen guys would get up and walk out, leaving their dinner on the table, before the deserted wife or the parole officer they'd left Outside caught them on film at eleven. "Okay," he said, "sure. Why not?" He was proud that Greenbaugh-Gallagher-trusted him enough to ask the favor. How many times does a sixteen-year-old kid get asked to help somebody hide out from his past? It was right out of Zane Grey. It made Johnny feel like a card-carrying member of the Last Frontier.

Greenbaugh-Gallagher!-thumped his shoulder and grinned at him again. "I'm sure glad I picked you up on the road, Johnny. You're my lucky charm!" He laughed heartily, gave Johnny's shoulder another thump. "Oh," he said, pausing with one hand on the door, "and maybe you could tell that little girlfriend of yours, too. Make sure she knows my new right name, and tell her why?"

"Sure," Johnny said. "Van's cool. She'll be happy to."

"Great," Gallagher said, and disappeared back inside.

Without knowing how, Johnny had the distinct feeling that there was a joke he was missing, but it was getting darker and colder and later by the minute, so he shrugged it off, climbed back on his snow machine, and headed for home.

Kate?"

She heard Jim's voice from downstairs. She didn't move.

His footsteps sounded on the stairs. "Kate?"

"Go away," she said, her voice muffled by the comforter she'd pulled over her head.

"Kate? Where are you?" The overhead light clicked on. "Oh. Hey, Mutt." The bed moved as Mutt lifted her head and whined, a single, plaintive note.