Ancient Shores

Walker nodded slowly. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said. “I must repeat, Johnson’s Ridge belongs to the Mini Wakan Oyaté. We will resist any effort to take it.”

“Try to understand,” said Fleury. “There are forces at work now over which no one has any real control.”

The chairman felt as if he were caught in the gears of a giant clock. “Jason,” he said, “I understand quite well. But I am being asked to choose a reservation for my grandsons when they might have a wilderness. Rather, your people need to put aside their fear. There is nothing destructive in the Roundhouse. The difficulties now besetting the larger world stem from ignorance. And fear.”

Fleury’s eyes were bleak. “Many of us sympathize with your position. You have more friends than you know.”

“But none who are prepared to come forward.”

Fleury struggled with his words. “Chairman, the President counts himself among your friends. But he feels compelled, by his duty to the nation, to take action.”

“I am sorry,” said Walker, standing up to signal an end to the conversation. “I truly am.”

“Chairman, listen.” A note of desperation crept into Fleury’s voice. “It’s out of your hands. The court order has already been issued. It will be served on your people within the hour.”

“On the tribal council?”

“On your representatives at Johnson’s Ridge.”

“Adam will not accept it.”

“That’s why I’m here. To explain what’s happening. And to ask for your assistance. We will pay ample compensation.”

“And what would you offer me in exchange for the future of my people? Keep off the ridge, Mr. Fleury. It belongs to the Sioux. We will not surrender it.”

Max picked up his phone. It was Lasker. “Listen, Max,” he said, “there’s something you ought to know.”

“You sold the boat,” Max said.

“Yeah. Listen, they offered a lot of money, Max. More than I’ll ever need.”

“It’s okay, Tom.”

“I don’t know if it’s going to have any kind of impact up there. I was afraid—”

“Where’s the boat now?”

“They’re outside loading it onto a trailer.”

“Wells?”

“No. It’s government money. These guys are from the Treasury.”

Deputy U.S. Marshal Elizabeth Silvera served the court order on Adam Sky. She was in her late forties, tall, rangy, impersonal. Her black hair was just begi

She was accompanied by Chief Doutable.

Adam’s office in the security station was small and cramped. Its walls, which until yesterday had been bare save for a tribal drum and a framed picture of his wife, were now covered with weapons. Bows, antique rifles, Adam’s old service revolver, whatever he’d been able to find had been put on display.

Silvera extracted a document from her jacket. “Mr. Sky,” she said, “A federal court order requiring that this premises, the Roundhouse, and everything in it, save personal property, be remanded into the custody of the federal government.

“The action is necessitated,” she continued, “because the area has been determined to be a public hazard.”

When the security chief made no move to accept the court order, she laid it on his desk. “You have until midnight tonight to comply.” Her tone changed, as if she were offering friendly advice: “The sooner you clear the site, Mr. Sky, the better it will be for all concerned.”

“We won’t be leaving,” Adam said coolly.

She met his eyes. “You don’t have that option. You can’t defy the court.”

“This is our property. If you come back to take it from us, come armed.”

Silvera’s eyes hardened. “I am sorry,” she said. “You have until midnight.” She turned, walked to the door, and paused. “Under the circumstances I should remind you that resisting a federal court order is a felony. I have no discretion here, Mr. Sky. I have no choice but to enforce the order. By whatever means necessary.”

Walker had been waiting for the call from Adam. When it came, he listened intently to the security chief’s narrative. When he asked for instructions, the chairman hesitated. “Adam,” he said, “how far are you prepared to go?”

“I do not wish to accept this.”

“Are you prepared to defend the ridge?”

“Yes. I’d prefer not to. But I don’t think we have a choice.”

“But,” said Walker, “armed resistance will not produce a victory.”

“Then what do you suggest? That we give in again?”

“The real question is whether we can find a way to keep our hold on the wilderness world.”

“If the federals are prepared to come against us in force, I think not.”

“So,” said Walker, “we can take our money and end it here. Or we can fight with no hope of victory.”

“Yes,” said Adam. “Those seem to be our choices.”

The chairman glanced around his office. The walls, the battered windows, even the fireplace seemed somehow mementos of captivity. “I agree. We must fight.”

“Will you send us help?”

“I will come,” he said. “But the police will not be so stupid as to allow your brothers and sisters to join you. Talk with those who are with you. Find out who will stay.”

“I will talk to them now,” said Adam.

“Good. I’m on my way.” He hung up and stared at the phone.

It rang again.

He picked it up. “Hello?”

An unfamiliar voice asked to speak with James Walker.

“That’s my name.”

“James, I’m Walter Asquith. I’ve heard what’s been happening.”

“I don’t think I know you.”

“No matter. I know you. Listen, not everybody in this country’s getting stampeded. I thought maybe you could use some help.”

As Asquith talked, Walker recalled one of Jason Fleury’s remarks. You have more friends than you know.

“And you are all going to stay?” demanded April.

“Yes,” Adam said. “We will defend the ridge.”

Max was shocked. “Does the Chairman know about this?”

“The Chairman ordered it.”

“My God, Adam,” he said, “you’re talking about shooting it out with United States marshals?”

“That’s crazy,” said April. “You’ll all wind up dead. What we need to do is talk to a lawyer.”

“I don’t believe,” said Adam, “that talking to a lawyer would accomplish anything. Anyway, it’s not my decision.”

Her eyes got very wide. “Adam,” she said, “the Chairman would not ask you to do any such thing. There’s a misunderstanding here somewhere.”

Adam showed no emotion. “You can ask him when he comes,” he said.

Max could not believe he was listening to this conversation. “What do you think this is,” he demanded, “some sort of kids’ game? You can’t tell the federal government to take a hike.”

“We’ve had some experience doing just that,” said Adam.

“Like hell. Your grandfather, maybe. Not you.” He looked through the window at Dale Tree, who was talking with a group of visitors. “Or anybody else here, for that matter.”

Adam looked directly at Max. “We are now at a point where we have to ask ourselves what we really stand for. Everything is about to happen again, Max. We’re not going to allow that. If we have to stand our ground and make them kill us, then that is what we will do.”

29

Where can I go

That I might live forever?

—Omaha poem

“Testing, one, two,” said Andrea.

“That’s good.” Keith sounded excited. “Listen, we aren’t going to lose you up there tonight, are we?”

“I hope not.” Andrea thought she sounded confident. Completely in charge.

“Okay,” said Keith. “We’re doing a special lead-in, and we’ll be cutting away to the network before we actually go over to you. So you’ll be on right from the top.”

“Good.”

“As far as we can tell, you’ll be the entire media show. No one’s being allowed up the road.”

“Well, I guess this is my night to become famous.”

“I hope so. And listen, Hawk, take care of—” Static erupted.

Andrea switched to her alternate frequency. Same problem. The sons of bitches were jamming her. Unbelievable.