Winter Counts(66)

“That’s not true! Lack’s been telling me that bison’s better than beef; people just need to learn how to cook it, get—”

“Marie, this is out of my hands. Wayne and Delia have their own plans; I understand she already used most of the grant money for new programs. I hear she’s going to Florida next month for training. They’re very grateful to you for—”

“Grateful? She fired me, Dad!” I heard some loud banging, which sounded like a chair being knocked over.

“All right, we’re done here,” Ben said. “I know you’re upset and you have a right to be, but this is over.”

“It’s not over!” Marie said, and the door swung open. She stormed off down the hall. I trailed after her, looking behind me to see if anyone was following.

I OFFERED TO STAY with Marie at her place, but she wanted some time alone. Being fired was new territory for her. I’d been let go from plenty of jobs back in my drinking days, so it didn’t bother me. But this was a big deal for Marie. She felt she’d been cast out by the reservation snobs again, that she wasn’t good enough or accepted for who she was. And being fired by Delia was the final indignity. I gave her some space but told her to come to my shack if she wanted company.

Later that evening my phone rang. It was Marie.

“Hey, it’s me. Can you come over? I’ve got something I want to talk about.”

This didn’t sound good. “Everything all right?”

“I’m fine. Just want to discuss something in private. You can leave Nathan alone for a while, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Be there soon.”

I PULLED UP in front of Marie’s little house. As I opened my door, I saw an animal run away. A stray dog, eating some of the food Marie had put out.

I always liked coming to Marie’s place. It wasn’t much larger than my space, but was much cleaner and had nicer furniture. Inside, she had a blue velvet couch, black end tables, leafy green plants, and a crate of vinyl albums in the corner. In the kitchen, there was one of those Kit-Cat clocks, the kind with the big eyes that move from side to side. Hanging on the walls in the living room were two abstract paintings, caricatures of the images used in the media to depict Natives. I saw Chief Wahoo and other Native sports mascots, their images defaced and mutilated by the artist. Another print portrayed three wolves running in an electric blue landscape.

Marie noticed me looking at it. “She’s an Osage artist. Or was, I guess. She died a few years ago. My mom just gave it to me.”

“I like it. Surreal. Looks like they’re on the moon or something.”

“You want something to drink?”

“Don’t suppose you have any Shastas?”

“Matter of fact, I do.” She poured a glass of cherry cola over ice and some water for herself, then sat down next to me on the couch. “Thanks for coming by so late.”

“No problem,” I said. “You feeling better about the job stuff?”

“Not really. Still super pissed off. It’s just not right. I busted my hump over there for years, doing the work, making the program better. Don’t know if I told you, but I fixed the inventory system last fall and got more choices on fruits and vegetables.” She took a drink of water. “It doesn’t make sense. To fire me. Yeah, I missed a few days, but there are people working for the tribe who barely show up.”

“I hear you,” I said. “It’s not fair. Hell with them.”

“I know I should move on, but I can’t stop thinking about it. That’s why I asked you to stop by, got something I want to ask you.”

“Yeah?”

I waited for her to say more, but she hesitated.

“Ask away,” I said.

“Well, I don’t want to sound paranoid, but something doesn’t make sense. Delia could have canned me last year if she just wanted me out. You know, we don’t like each other, but we figured out how to work together. Pretty much she ignores me and I ignore her, except when we have to talk about work stuff. So why fire me now?”

I took a gulp of my Shasta. “I don’t know. Maybe she was waiting for the right time?”

“Maybe. But my dad said something today at his office. He said Delia’s been using the bison grant money for some programs, that most of it’s already gone. But that’s not right. I get copies of all the financial reports and bank statements, and I haven’t seen any funds being spent. Just four thousand for Lack’s food truck; besides that, it’s all still there. I just reviewed the last statement, so I know I’m right. I would have been notified of any accounts payable or pending liabilities. You see what I’m saying?” She looked at me with an expectant expression.

“You think there’s something going on with the grant? Something shady?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and poured herself more water. “Either my dad’s wrong about this, or she’s spending the money somewhere, off the books. Sounds bizarre, I know, but my gut tells me there’s no reason for Delia to fire me now unless she’s hiding something.”

I chewed on an ice cube, a habit my mother had always hated. “Okay,” I said, “maybe she is hiding something. Wouldn’t put it past her. But you don’t work there anymore, so what can you do?”