Free Grave Danger by Rachel Grant Page B

me.”
    “I’m here to document the history of Coho, Ms. Montgomery,” Libby said with restrained calm. “And if I only wanted to publish the tribe’s version, I wouldn’t interview you. I understand you managed the hotel for more than fifty years, starting during World War II. Can you tell me about that time?”
    Libby could see the struggle on Laura’s face. Plainly visible was her yearning to share stories of her proudest moments. From her research, Libby already knew about the time the hotel served as a hospital and shelter for passengers of a ship that sank in the Strait of Juan de Fuca in 1949. But her pride warred with her need to snub Rosalie Warren, and therefore, Libby.
    “Girls like me who worked after the war instead of having children were resented for stealing jobs from the men,” Laura began. “I had no choice. Daddy needed me to run the hotel.” The desire to speak had won out. But based on Laura’s expression and tone, she had chosen to make the interview as unpleasant as possible.
    “When your mother died, her children—you—inherited Thorpe Log & Lumber. It was your hotel. Not your father’s. Why did Lyle continue to run the company?” From Laura’s expression, Libby knew she’d made a mistake.
    “It’s so easy for you to sit in judgment of us. You’ve heard some bad things, untrue things, about my daddy, and you want to know why we continued to let him run our company. You don’t know anything about me, about us.” As she spoke, she continued to pet her dog. But she’d become agitated and the dog must have sensed this because it looked again at Libby with belligerent eyes.
    “I was only sixteen when my mother died,” Laura continued. “My brothers Earl and James were even younger. Billy was eighteen, but he went off to fight the war in ’42. Daddy’d been running the company since 1920, so it made sense for him to stay in charge. As we got older, we each took on jobs and responsibility for the company. Yes, I managed the hotel and restaurant. I worked there from my eighteenth birthday until I retired in 1995. Earl took over property management, which he still does, and James ran the logging operation, which closed down in 1999.”
    “What about Billy?”
    “When he got back from the war, he tried to take over management of the sawmill, but Daddy didn’t think he was ready for such a big job. Earl and James agreed.” She paused, and then added quietly, “Eventually, so did I. Billy worked alongside Daddy to learn the ins and outs of sawmill management. He was preparing to take over. But that never happened because Daddy outlived him by seven years.”
    The Montgomery family operated on a business structure that resembled a monarchy. No new king until the old one died. Libby searched for a way to introduce a subject closer to her research questions. “Did the hotel employ any Indians under your management?”
    “Oh Lord no! You can’t trust an Indian to do an honest day’s work.”
    “Aunt Laura,” Jason said. “You can’t say things like that.”
    “Let her speak, Jason,” Libby said, knowing she wasn’t defending the elderly woman so much as trapping her. “What about logging?” she said quickly to keep the interview momentum going. “Did any of the Kalahwamish do any logging for TL&L?”
    “Yes. They were cheap labor.”
    “So they were paid less than their white counterparts?”
    Laura’s eyes hardened. “I wouldn’t know about that.”
    “It was dangerous work,” Libby added.
    Laura said nothing more.
    Libby made a note to check the mill’s personnel records to see what the standard compensation for Indians had been. Jason couldn’t sue her for including information documented in TL&L’s ledgers.
    The more she learned about the discrimination the Kalahwamish people had suffered at TL&L, the more she understood why Rosalie wanted this part of the history of Coho documented. But, if it was any comfort to the local tribe, Lyle hadn’t treated his