Free Bitter Creek by Peter Bowen Page B

here.”
    Amalie nodded. She stood up.
    â€œWhere to?” said Chappie. “There are lots of possibilities.”
    Du Pré thought.
    â€œTake her to Bart’s, tell Pidgeon what is going on,” he said.
    The old woman went off walking strongly between the two maimed young men.
    Du Pré went back in the house.
    â€œGet the kids, tell them people are coming looking for Amalie,” said Du Pré.
    Madelaine and Jacqueline nodded.
    â€œFederal people. That was Benny,” said Du Pré.
    â€œOK,” said Jacqueline, “they don’t say anything, I tell them they will take her away. …”
    â€œI go after the girls,” said Madelaine. “They are not gone too long.”
    â€œWhere are you, Du Pré?” said Jacqueline.
    â€œI go the saloon,” said Du Pré, “be helpful.”

Chapter 13
    â€œBENNY SAID THEY WERE definitely looking for you,” said Susan Klein. “Amalie’s granddaughter had one of your CDs with your handsome face right on it. ‘That’s him,’ she said.”
    Du Pré nodded, and he drank the last of his ditchwater highball. Susan made him another.
    â€œSo,” she said, “what they’re mad about is this: a hundred-and-two-year-old woman made it across our well-protected border. The Canadians, though not pleased, are delighted that Homeland Security of the good old U S of A looks like the jackasses they are. They’re making noises about the awful abduction of one of their citizens, an ancient woman at that, but one doubts their hearts are in it.”
    Du Pré nodded.
    â€œSo what’re you gonna do?” said Susan.
    Du Pré shrugged.
    â€œI’ve known you a long time,” said Susan, “and you’ve got a bad temper, Du Pré, so as a friend, I ask you don’t kill no more of them than you absolutely have to. …”
    â€œ Any more of them,” said Du Pré. “You used, teach school, you know.”
    â€œI’m trying to forget,” said Susan.
    â€œAmalie Montagne, she is here because she wants, be here,” said Du Pré. “Long time gone, many Métis were killed, she was there, she wants justice, she wants them to sleep. …”
    Susan looked at him.
    â€œ1910,” said Du Pré. “Somewhere out there, thirty-two people are buried.”
    â€œMadelaine told me,” said Susan, “and I know the old lady wants to do right. Thing is, these bozos who are looking for you now, they work for our government, which, since that Patriot Act was passed, throws people in jail and forgets about them. …”
    Du Pré nodded.
    â€œWhich I would hate to see happen to you,” said Susan.
    Du Pré shrugged.
    â€œI don’t think so,” he said.
    The television screen above the bar showed burning vehicles and shouting people, bodies covered in sheets, a man weeping as he stood near one of them.
    â€œIt’s a good thing that bat-eared nitwit wasn’t president when Pearl Harbor happened,” said Susan. “He’d have invaded China .…”
    The door opened and little Colette came in, the youngest of Raymond and Jaqueline’s brood.
    She smiled as she walked across the floor. She climbed up on a stool. “I am here, protect you, Granpère,” she said.
    â€œGood,” said Du Pré, “I won’t worry then. …”
    â€œUs kids love Amalie,” said Colette, “these people, want, take her away. …”
    â€œYes,” said Du Pré.
    â€œBut they will not,” said Colette.
    Susan Klein put a glass of pop in front of Colette. The little girl sipped some, and she ate a couple of peanuts.
    The door opened and four beefy men came in, all in slacks and open-necked shirts and blue windbreakers, government issue. One of them looked at a CD in his hand, nodded, and nodded to his companions.
    â€œGabriel Du Pré,” he said, “we have some questions