believe. So what does he believe?”
“Gnady’s right,” Clarence Oldsquaw said in his slow way.
Gnady completely ignored Clarence, as was his custom. “And where do you live and how long have you lived there?” He stared at Waterman Stoddard. “I sure ain’t never seen you before now.”
“I’ve lived outside Eagle for about five years. I’m from down in the Confederacy, originally.”
“The what?” Clara asked.
“The Confederate States of America. They’re just south of the United States and east of the Republic of Texas.”
“Never heard of none of ’em,” Clarence said, staring at the floor in a thoughtful manner.
“I know where they’re at,” Gnady said. “You come a long ways, Mr. Waterman Stoddard. Why?”
“No room down there for someone with an itch to be their own person and not bend into what’s expected of you. I’d do a good job for y’all, and that’s a promise.”
“How do you make your bread? What is your work?”
“I hunt, trap, and fish. Never been hungry nor naked, want for naught.”
“There is a problem, however,” Gnady said quietly.
“Problem? What problem?”
“I, Gnady Ustinov, wish to be delegate.” Stoddard opened his mouth but Gnady hurried on. “I am a property owner from Old Crow, where I was born. I have four years of Father Petroska’s school so I can read, write, and cypher. I own the only store in town and everyone knows I do not cheat them.”
Heads nodded within their small circle. Shouts echoed through the spacious room from larger, more divided groups. Gnady hoped these people liked him, which was something he had never before considered.
“So why do you have a Russian name?” Stoddard asked.
“My father was Russian, my mother is Dena. Many of our people have Russian blood, and English, and French, and Eskimo, and Tlingit… even Yankee and Rebel blood. I was born in fish camp in the middle of the dog salmon run.”
“Why do you want to be delegate?” Stoddard asked, continuing to work his mouth after he finished speaking.
“Who knows what these downriver people will demand of us? We need a delegate who can see things as they are, not what might be.”
“But if you don’t have a glimpse of the future, aren’t you stuck in the past?” Stoddard’s eyes seemed lit from within. “This is all about the future. That’s what y’all have to realize. We have a chance here to make something none of us have ever seen: a representative government that listens to our needs.” The hunter chewed his invisible cud for a few heartbeats. “We need a delegate with vision, not just fear.”
“That is easy for you to say,” Gnady snapped, more stung than he wished to admit. “You have nothing to lose, no family to consider. Be a radical on your own account.”
Catherine Alexander spoke for the first time. “Enough. We are to pick two people out loud and vote for one in silence. The rest of us have heard you both.” She glanced at the others. “I nominate both you.”
“So now what?” Clara asked.
“Somebody has to second the nominations,” Waterman said.
Incomprehension stared at him from all eyes.
“Somebody has to agree out loud with her.”
Gnady wondered if Waterman’s obvious knowledge about how this meeting worked would take votes away from him. He nudged Clarence.
“Sure! I agree with her,” the old man said and lapsed back into silence.
“Okay.” Waterman looked around. Picked up a piece of paper off the table. “You write down who you want to be delegate on a piece of paper and then put the paper in here.” He tapped a birch bark basket next to the stack of paper and box of heavy Russian pencils.
“What if I can’t write?” Clara asked.
“Not a problem,” Gnady said instantly, again surprising himself. “Mr. Stoddard and I will make little pictures for you. If you want to vote for me, you make an x beside my little picture, if you wish to vote for him, you put your mark next to his.”
“What kind of little picture?” Soloman Dundas asked.
“Well, Mr. Stoddard hunts and fishes for a living, so I’ll draw this little fish picture for him.” Gnady looked into Stoddard’s eyes. “That work for you?”
“Sure. What you gonna use for yours?”
“How about a pipe, the kind you smoke?” he quickly drew a simple outline. “Like that.”
“I like this way,” Soloman said. “It ain’t confusing or nothing.”
“I’ll make thirteen ballots and we can get on with it.” Gnady sketched them out quickly. There was a part of him that had yearned to create art, but he didn’t know where to begin, so he ignored the tiny voice.
“There, one for each of us.” He picked up a square of paper and walked over to a windowsill where he could brace the paper so only he could see it. Carefully, he put an X in front of the pipe.
Three other ballots already lay in the basket when he dropped his on top. He rubbed his hands together and, feeling self-conscious, moved over and leaned against the wall. He hadn’t been this nervous when he asked Tatania to marry him. But, he thought wryly, she had been pregnant at the time and he would have been amazed if she’d turned him down.
He wiped sweat from his forehead as he looked around. Nobody here was pregnant.
“Who’s gonna count them up?” Clara speaks louder than she needs
Catherine Alexander said, “Let’s you and me do it, Clara.”
Waterman Stoddard wiped his large forehead and leaned against the wall next to Gnady. “If I win, I want you to help me do what I need to do,” he said so only Gnady could hear. “If you win I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
Gnady held out his hand. “Done.”
They shook.
Catherine looked up from the two small piles of paper. “Mr. Stoddard, I’m sorry, but you didn’t win.”
Gnady’s spirit soared upward from the abrupt dip it made when she first called Stoddard’s name. One glance at his opponent told him Stoddard had just made the same trip in reverse. They both glared at her.
“But you only lost by one vote.” She fanned the ballots out on the small table. “Everybody can see for themselves.”
Gnady surveyed the room. Other winners and losers were being declared. Some of the winners looked more dejected than did the losers.
“Congratulations, Mr. Delegate,” Waterman shook his hand. “I meant what I said. If I can help.”
“Between us,” Gnady said, “we know a great deal. I would that you help me watch them”—he nodded toward the noisy room—“to make sure our people are not meanly used.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Waterman moved off through the crowd.
A bell rang and the room went silent.
“Would the delegates please come up here by me?” Chandalar called out.
Gnady felt many eyes on him and wondered if the other delegates felt as embarrassed as he did.
He found himself in the middle of the line. It felt as though a thousand people crowded the room, staring at them.
“This can stop anytime soon,” a woman next to him muttered.
“From my right, over here, please introduce yourselves to the People.” Chandalar made it sound like an order.
“I’m Blue Bostonman,” the large woman said. “From Aniak.” Gnady could see that she would be a difficult customer if she felt the goods were shoddy.
“Fredrik Seetamoona, from Elim.”
“Ain’t that an Eskimo name?” someone shouted from the crowd.
“My dad was Yu’pik, but my mom was Dena. How many of you are Dena and nothing else?”
Gnady liked Fredrik’s sand.
