Free Scattered Bones by Maggie Siggins

to her by Angus and three of his cousins when one day she joined them for lunch. “They carved the captives’ flesh with their knives, piece by piece. The dogs licked up the blood,” Angus had explained. His enthusiasm for this lurid tale, verging on joy, upset Izzy.
    As she approaches the Crane enclave, she steels herself. Desperation, darkness, degradation – she’s feels this so strongly that she almost turns around and leaves. But no, she would be too disappointed in herself. If there’s one thing she’s proud of, it’s her nerve to face whatever comes her way.
    All day, every day, Angus’s father, Frederick, sits on a tree stump near his shack, rocking to and fro, and whimpering like a frightened dog. It’s obvious that he’s reliving the terrible event that occurred three years before.
    ~•~
    The hunters had camped for the night and were just finishing their meal. Fred excused himself and headed into the bush for a pee. He had just unzipped his pants when he noticed a huge grizzly standing there, glowering at him – she‘d been poking at a nearby ant hill. Her two cubs were beside her. He let out a terrified scream, but, by the time his companions got to him, the bear had taken his head in her hands and was eating his face, bones crunching like shattered glass. Frightened that they’d accidently kill their friend, the trappers tried ramming the animal with the butts of their guns. Fred shouted, “Shoot, shoot, I’d rather be shot than eaten alive.” One of the men finally got close enough to the animal to take accurate aim, and hit her in the chest. The cubs were slaughtered in revenge.
    Fred survived the ordeal, but just barely. His face is a hideous mess of corrugated scar tissue. His nose and an ear are missing. He is blind. But, most tragically, his mind has shattered.
    Izzy gingerly approaches him. “How are you today, Fred?”
    The man, whose eyes have been torn out, turns his head towards her, but no words escape his misshapen mouth. Nothing but a moan.
    “See you later,” she says, and turns towards the cabin, half-hoping her knock will not be answered.
    Even before Fred’s accident, his wife, Susan Crane, ruled the roost. Big boned, handsome, smart, she is a ferocious woman who will brook no hint of rebellion. Izzy once sat in on a meeting of Indian elders, a discussion of what should be done about Arthur Jan’s illicit booze. Susan was in favour of punishing any boy or girl who partook of so much as a drop. A couple of old men were sympathetic – “They’re just young bucks after all.”
    “So when they end up in handcuffs on their way to the white man’s jail, you’ll be satisfied,” Susan had honked at them. Her tongue lashing continued until they slunk away.
    When in a confrontation with Susan Crane, most people simply give up and keep their mouths shut. And she’s ambitious, so ambitious. Her six sons, including mischievous Angus, will succeed, in the white world too. To make sure of that, she’s had the family baptized in both the Christian faiths so that any opportunity for education can be grabbed hold of. Summer with Izzy and the Anglicans is fine, but what she’s really counting on is the Catholic residential school that will start that fall. There, her boys will be whipped into shape, she’s sure of that.
    Izzy doesn’t know what to think. Teaching the native kids to take their place in the wider world is necessary. Well, given her background how could she think otherwise? Yet her heart goes out to Angus Crane. How will such an imaginative child, bright and brash, survive the discipline of a boarding school? She knows what her father believes – Indians are savages without a culture or religion, to be moulded into an inferior rendition of white men. Izzy wonders if Catholics will be any more compassionate. She doubts it.
    Nobody answers at the Crane cabin, so Izzy makes her way to the home of Angus’s grandfather. Izzy is as intimidated by Peter Angus as she is by