3
Jane drove away from the McKinnon house early the next morning. The traffic on the New York State Thruway going eastward away from Buffalo was light, even though the incoming traffic was heavy.
The Tonawanda Reservation was about three miles north of the Thruway, just northeast of Akron. After the Revolutionary War, George Washington had signed the treaty letting the Senecas retain roughly two hundred thousand acres of land in this single plot. During the next half century, a cabal of prominent New York businessmen formed a land company and stole legal ownership of the reservation with the help of federal Indian agents who were openly on their payroll. The Tonawanda Senecas, led by the clan mothers, could only repurchase eight thousand acres. What was left was mainly swampy lowlands and second-growth forest, but various parts had been farmed as long as the land had been occupied.
Jane drove through Akron to Bloomingdale Road, then to Hopkins Road. The houses she passed were all ones she had known since she was born. She knew the people who owned them, and knew the complicated network of kinship that connected one family with another throughout the reservation, and even some of the connections with people from other Haudenosaunee reservations in New York and Canada. Jane turned and drove up to the house on Sand Hill Road that belonged to the Sanders family. She stopped her white Volvo beside the road and studied the place for a few seconds. There had always, for Jane, been a profound feeling of calm in the silence of the reservation. The thruway and major highways were too many miles away to be heard. The roads on the reservation didn’t allow for much traffic, and didn’t lead anywhere that big trucks wanted to go. Today the only sounds were birdsongs and the wind in the tall trees.
The Sanders house was old, but it had a fresh coat of white paint on it, and Jane was glad to see the shingle roof was recent too. Jane got out and headed for the wooden steps to the porch. She had always loved the thick, ancient oak that dominated the yard and shaded the house, so she patted its trunk as she passed. She remembered how she and Jimmy had made up stories about it when they played together as children. They agreed that a great sachem had been buried on this spot thousands of years ago, and an acorn planted above his heart had sprouted into this tree. They decided that the buried sachem’s power inhabited the tree, and so the tree had always protected the family from harm.
The front door of the house opened while Jane was still climbing the steps, and Mattie Sanders came out. “Jane?” she said. “You’re looking wonderful.”
“So are you, Mattie. All I did was grow taller.”
Mattie Sanders hugged Jane tightly. She was about five feet nine inches tall, with long, thick hair that had been jet black when Jane had come here as a child. Now it was hanging down her back in a loose silver ponytail, the way Jane wore hers to do housework. “If you came to see Jimmy, I’m afraid I have bad news for you.”
“I heard about his troubles yesterday,” Jane said. “I came to see you.”
“Well, then, come on inside.” Mattie looked up and around her at the sky and the trees. “Or we could sit out here if you’d like.”
“Out here would be nice,” Jane said. “It’s such a spectacular day.”
“Yes,” said Mattie. “Of course, I see a day like this, and I hope that Jimmy’s somewhere getting the benefit of it. It could still get cold and wet even at this time of year.”
They went to a small round table on the porch under the roof, and Jane sat in one of the four chairs. She thought about how pleasant this spot was during a late spring or summer rain, and felt sorry for Jimmy.
Mattie went through the screen door into the small kitchen. She would feel compelled to observe the ancient customs, so Jane knew she would be back with food and drinks, just as Jigonsasee had, six or seven hundred years ago when Deganawida and Hiawatha—the historical one, not the Ojibway hero Longfellow later used in a poem and gave Hiawatha’s name—had stopped at her dwelling beside the trail. Jane sat alone and listened to the chickadees and finches calling to each other in the big old trees. Mattie returned with a plate of brownies and a pot of tea, and resumed the conversation. “So you heard about Jimmy’s problems.”
Jane took a brownie and nibbled it. “These are wonderful, just as I remembered them. Thank you.”
Mattie nodded.
Jane said, “I got a visit from some of my mother’s old friends, and somebody remembered that Jimmy and I were close friends when we were kids, and thought I’d want to know.”
Mattie looked at Jane’s face for a second, and in that second, Jane knew that she had already seen through what Jane said to what she hadn’t said.
Jane braved the look, like swimming against a current. “Since I heard, I’ve been worried. What happened?”
Mattie looked at the surface of the table for a second, then up. “Jimmy isn’t the boy that you knew, any more than you’re the little girl he knew. You both grew up. You’re like the woman I thought you would be. Maybe girls are more predictable. He fooled me. When boys are little you can’t imagine them getting into fights in bars. Or some of the other things they do either. Jimmy is a good person, a good son, but he’s all man.”
“Where is he?” asked Jane.
“I don’t know,” said Mattie. “He didn’t say he was leaving. After he was gone he didn’t call or write to say where he was going or when he’d get there.”
“Do you think he needs help?”
Mattie sighed. “Anyone who’s alone and running needs help, whether he knows it or not. I just don’t know where he went. And I assume the police are watching me to see if I get into a car and drive.”
Jane said, “I think I can find him.”
Mattie said, “You can only get in trouble, and that would be twice as bad.”
Jane said, “South?”
Mattie sat motionless for a second, then nodded. “Maybe like you two went south that time when you were teenagers.”
Jane said, “And how about you, Mattie? Are you getting along okay here?”
Mattie shrugged. “I always have. I have my Social Security, and a pension from the school system.” Jane remembered Mattie had worked as a janitor in the Akron schools at night. “I also work four mornings a week at Crazy Jake’s. It gives me a few bucks to save.” Crazy Jake sold tax-free cigarettes and gasoline just outside the reservation.
Jane said, “If Jimmy gets in touch, please tell him I’d like to help. I know some good lawyers.”
“We probably wouldn’t have what they charge.”
“I’ll get him a deal.” Jane heard the sound of a car engine, and then the squeak of springs and shock absorbers as a police car bounced up the road toward them. The car stopped, a tall state trooper got out and reached for his Smokey Bear hat, put it on, and walked toward the porch. A second car, this one a black unmarked car, pulled up behind. The driver sat there staring frankly out the window at the women on the porch. Jane and Mattie sat motionless as the state trooper climbed the steps to the porch. “Good morning, Mrs. Sanders,” he said. He nodded to Jane and said, “Ma’am.” He turned to Mattie. “I came by because I was wondering if you had heard from Jimmy yet.”
“I haven’t,” said Mattie.
“Sorry about that,” said the trooper. “If he calls or writes, please let him know we’d like to talk to him. Thanks, ladies.” He got into his car and drove up the road.
Mattie said, “They drive by my house day and night, hoping they’ll see Jimmy. They must have seen your car and hoped it was him.”
“I suppose that’s to be expected,” Jane said. “I’m surprised they’re so obvious, though. I guess they thought they couldn’t fool you anyway.” She took another sip of her tea and finished her brownie. Then she stood and hugged Mattie. “It’s been great to see you again. I wish it hadn’t been at such a bad time.”
“Me too,” said Mattie.
“I’ll come and see you when things are better.” She bent to kiss Mattie’s cheek. Then she got into her car and drove. The reservation had only a few roads, and they all met. She went up Parker Road past Sundown Road to Council House Road.
She took Allegheny Road to Java, where it became Cattaraugus Road. She drove south to the mechanic’s shop that was owned by the Snows. She pulled close to the garage doorway, got out, and walked to the front of her car.
“Janie?”
Jane turned her head and saw a dark-skinned man about her age wearing blue work pants, steel-toed boots, and a gray work shirt with an embroidered patch above the pocket that said ray. Jane stepped up and hugged him. “It’s great to see you, Ray. I was afraid you would be on vacation or something.”
“No, the guys who work for me get vacations. I’m always here, like the doorknob. Got a car problem?”
“I wondered if you could do the scheduled maintenance on my car—you know, oil, filter, lube, check and replace belts and hoses—and then keep it here safe for at least a week or so.”
“I’d be glad to. You staying around here?”
“I thought I’d go on a hike, like we used to when we were kids.”
Ray Snow’s brows knitted. “You trying to find Jimmy?”
Jane looked around to see if anyone else was in earshot. She smiled and said, “Not me. That’s the police’s job. I wouldn’t want to get involved.”
“Well, that’s good. A person would have to be stupid to do that.” He whispered, “Give him my regards.”