Free Bitter Creek by Peter Bowen

him. Patchen nodded and he went on in. Chappie was sitting at the bar. He got up and he and Patchen hugged.
    â€œSo they throw you out?” said Chappie.
    â€œYup,” said Patchen. “Found some stuff, but there everything you do is on a computer. This bunch of idiots we’ve got for a government is so paranoid now they don’t like anyone looking for anything. I ‘lacked proof of legitimate historical interest.’”
    â€œHuh?” said Chappie.
    â€œI was not there as a qualified historian. I am a wounded soldier, from their war that is not going as they thought it would. They are obsessed that one or another of us will say what a bunch of incompetent jerks they are,” said Patchen.
    â€œEverybody knows that already,” said Madelaine. She had put down her beadwork, and was looking angry.
    â€œBut I did find out quite a lot,” said Patchen, “and as I expected, having had dealings with these fools before, there is someone who is not yet of interest to them who promised to keep looking. …”
    Chappie and Du Pré and Madelaine looked at him.
    Patchen began, “Pershing and two companies of the Tenth Cavalry were sent at the request of the governor to remove ‘undesirable noncitizens’ from two places in Montana. They began on the twenty-first of January 1910, and they started shipping Métis out the next day from Helena, north to the Great Northern Line. They rounded up many in Great Falls. They sent the loaded cars out on the twenth-eighth. …”
    Madelaine pointed to a glass.
    â€œOh, please,” said Patchen, “a beer, any draft is fine. …”
    â€œEight days,” said Chappie, “and it was over.”
    â€œYes,” said Patchen, “but I found one odd note on one report. A Lieutenant Albert, who was sent with six troopers to apprehend some undesirable noncitizens fleeing through remote country. …”
    â€œWhat did he do?” said Du Pré.
    â€œI couldn’t find his report,” said Patchen. “It should have been there. It was a separate event. …” Du Pré nodded.
    â€œAnd I could not find the date when Albert and his men were sent. Which is very odd, since such departures should have been noted,” said Patchen.
    â€œFavor to somebody,” said Du Pré. “Amalie’s people were running, they kill and eat couple cows. …”
    â€œBig rancher,” said Madelaine.
    â€œWhat I don’t know, too,” said Patchen, “is why they were classed as noncitizens. Indians were wards of the government then; it was pretty standard.”
    â€œNot Métis,” said Du Pré. “They don’t belong to either Canada or America then. Many don’t belong until 1957.”
    â€œBecause they weren’t a tribe?” said Patchen. “They were half-breeds?”
    â€œMixed-bloods,” said Du Pré.
    â€œAnd that’s all that I found, until I was more or less asked to leave before I found myself under arrest.”
    â€œArrest?” said Madelaine.
    â€œThe charming fellow who came to my apartment said something about being ordered to active service in a place I would not like,” said Patchen. “I resigned my commission the next day.”
    Susan Klein came in, and Madelaine gathered up her little plastic envelopes of beads and her threads and the piece of soft doeskin she was working in a fine beaded pattern. “So,” said Madelaine, “you have not met Amalie and now you will. She is at Jacqueline’s and she will be having supper, an hour or so, you come, too.”
    Patchen smiled.
    â€œI’d love to meet her,” he said. And then he looked sad. He walked outside, and he was there waiting beside his little SUV when the others came out.
    â€œI ride with him,” said Chappie. He walked across the street and the two men got in Patchen’s car. Du Pré and Madelaine got in her little