Dana Stabenow - Whisper to the Blood

While Johnny stuttered in vain for something to say that might come close to expressing his surprise, his wonder, and his gratitude, Jim turned to Kate and handed her a small, flat package wrapped clumsily in gold foil. A red peel-and-stick ribbon was stuck to one corner. "Merry Christmas," he said, the corner of his mouth kicking up in a half smile.

It was a copy of Robert's Rules of Order (Newly Revised, In Brief). She opened it and read out loud, her voice breaking on the words, "'So You're Going to a Meeting.'" She closed the book and looked at him through misty eyes. "Oh, Jim."

He leaned over and kissed her. "Tear 'em up, babe."

Later they ate ham roasted with pineapple rings and cloves in a brown-sugar sauce, and after that they strapped on skis and went over the river and through the woods to see Mandy, who heard their laughter long before they arrived and was waiting for them at the door. "Hey, guys! Come on in, I've got pumpkin pie fresh out of the oven."

Chick was home, sober again and cheerful about it. The five of them sat down and tucked into pie and lingered over coffee, catching up on Park gossip and lying about their New Year's resolutions.

Chick gave Mandy a meaningful glance, and Mandy stirred in her chair. "Yeah," she said. "I've got some news of my own."

"Serve it up," Kate said, absorbed in picking up crust crumbs with a licked forefinger.

Mandy looked at Kate's bent head. "I'm the new Talia Macleod."

Kate went very still, one finger halfway between plate and mouth.

Into the silence Mandy said, "Global Harvest asked me a week or so after she died. I told them I had to think about it. Chick and I talked it over, and last week I said I would. I wanted you to hear before they made the announcement, or before Bobby finds out and puts it out on goddamn Park Air."

No one laughed.

"Anyway," Mandy said. "There'll be a press release after the first of the year."

There was a brief silence. As if they were propelled by marionette strings, everyone turned to look at Kate.

Kate licked the last of the crumbs from her finger and sat back. "Are you sure you want to do this, Mandy?"

Mandy shrugged. "No. But it's a big paycheck. And a chunk of stock."

"We heard about the stock," Jim said in a carefully neutral voice. "Hard to turn down something like that." "You need money?" Kate said.

Mandy shrugged. "This place takes a lot to keep it going. Like I told you in October, my trust fund never covers all of it. Whatever prize money I got for a race always helped." She put her hand over Chick's. "We don't want to live anywhere else. And besides." Mandy spread her hands. "They keep canceling the races, Kate, or delaying them. There's never enough snow anymore, or it all melts too soon and the trail just beats you to death. It was fifty-two degrees when we went through Cripple last year, did I tell you? Jesus. You can't run dogs at those temperatures."

She smiled at Mutt, sitting next to Kate, ears up, eyes inquiring. "And the competition gets stiffer every year. Publicity's about ruined the Iditarod. Outsiders from Montana, Norwegians, for god's sake, even a blind musher. What the hell's that about?" She sat back in her chair. "It's just not as much fun as it used to be."

And you aren't winning the way you used to, Kate thought, but she would have cut out her tongue before she said it out loud. "I told you I got shanghaied to be chair of the NNA board."

"You did," Mandy said, nodding.

" Lot of talk about that mine."

Mandy's smile had faded, too. "I know."

" Lot of people against it."

"Are you against it?" Mandy said.

Everyone looked at Kate again. "Not the point," Kate said. "What I'm saying, Mandy, is a lot of Park rats won't be happy you're the new mouthpiece for Global Harvest."

Mandy set her jaw. It was a good jaw, square and firm. "They'll get used to it."

We'll have to, Kate thought.

"Auntie Joy," Kate said, "please sit here, on my right. Old Sam, on my left, please. Harvey, Demetri, there and there."

Auntie Joy looked startled but took the seat Kate indicated. Old Sam gave Kate one of his patented, narrow-eyed looks, waited long enough to establish that it was his own idea, and sat. Harvey looked mutinous but short of summarily dislodging two venerable elders there was nothing for him to do but sit where he was told to. Demetri took the last seat without comment.

"You'll find copies of an agenda on the table in front of you."

She gave them a few minutes to run their eyes over it, and then rapped the table once with a small gavel made of fossilized ivory, its creamy surface swirling with golds and browns. She'd commissioned Thor Moonin to carve it for her after the holidays. "The meeting will come to order."

It came out a little more authoritarian than she had meant it to and the table sat up with a collective jerk. Auntie Joy turned a shocked eye on Kate. Old Sam relaxed again, with the beginnings of a smile indenting the corners of his mouth. "You all had copies of the last meeting's minutes hand-delivered to your doorstep two weeks ago. I'm going on the assumption you've read them. Are there any additions or corrections you would like to propose to the minutes at this time?"

Harvey opened his mouth, encountered Kate's level gaze, and shut it again.

"If there are no corrections or emendations, the minutes are approved. May we have the treasurer's report?"

Annie Mike gave a brisk rundown of the numbers. Kate moved that they be approved and accepted, Auntie Joy seconded the motion, it passed.

"Membership report," Kate said.

This was new, and Harvey said, "What's this?"

"Point of order," Kate said coolly. "The chair has not recognized Mr. Meganack."

"Oh, come on, what's this bullshit?"

"This bullshit is Robert's Rules of Order," Kate said. "You must be recognized by the chair before you are allowed to speak. And you have to stand up before I can recognize you."

Harvey sat there with his mouth half open.

"On your feet, Harvey," Old Sam said, smirking.

Harvey, red with anger, nevertheless stood up. "Madam Chair."

Kate gave a curt nod. "The chair recognizes Mr. Meganack."

"What's this membership report? We've never done this before."

"It's a tally of shareholders," Kate said, "which the board will update at every meeting. I think it's important we keep track of the number of shareholders we have on a regular basis. It helps remind us to whom we are responsible when we take action at these meetings."

There had been eleven children born over the past year who qualified under the Association's one-thirty-secondth rule, specifically that after adding up their Native heritage on both sides each shareholder had a minimum of one-thirty-secondth of Native blood.

Assimilation and intermarriage over the last three hundred years meant a lot of shareholders just barely squeaked in under that rule, and it also meant that many of the next generation of babies wouldn't qualify at all. In the back of her mind Kate noted that some action should be taken to ensure that the tribe increased rather than decreased in size as the years went by. They might have to go to one-sixty-fourth. "Total shareholders, Ms. Mike?" she said.

"Madam Chair, as of January first, the Niniltna Native Association had two hundred and thirty-seven shareholders," Annie said. "Approximately one hundred of them live in Anchorage, Fairbanks, Juneau, and Outside."

"Thank you, Ms. Mike."

Harvey sat down slowly.

Kate tried not to let her relief show. In truth, she was a little surprised at herself. She hadn't planned to address everyone by their surnames, it had just come out, but the formality felt right. "Any further reports, Ms. Mike?"

"Not at present, Madam Chair," Annie said, her brisk manner rivaling Kate's own. Imitation, in this case, was the sincerest form of approval.