Chapter 31

"Have fun fixing your boat," she said, and walked up the stairs of the boat house.

"Grace. I said it's a private meeting," I said.

She marched right back down the stairs, over to me and the Indians. She grabbed one of the lawyers by the hand.

"You're a lawyer ... I own half this property ... LEGALLY ... do I have to vacate the premises?"

"How did you know I'm a lawyer?" he asked.

"Briefcase," she said with a pointed finger.

"Ah ... allow me confer with my colleagues," he said.

"Uh uh."

"No?"

"No. You're holding my dollar." And he was ... the sneak had a dollar in her hand ... the hand he was holding.

"Umh."

"Daddy!" Daddy had just shown up with the tobacco. He looked up.

"Yes?"

"He's holding my dollar."

"Retained him, did you?"

Grace beamed. Mr. Briefcase frowned.

"Legally, you do not have to vacate."

"Thank you," she left the dollar in his hand, stuck her tongue out at me and thundered up the boathouse stairs, "Carole? Come up. I'm claiming my half." Carole was still on the boat.

I think I just got screwed ... the boathouse, dock and cabin were all on the west side of the property. My side, as things stood, was lawn ... it needed mowing. I hope Kenny has a cheap lawnmower.

Pretty soon ... real soon ... like right now soon ... there was a huge group of pickups trailing in from North and South, unloading firewood and fancy dressed maidens and driving off to find parking. There were pickups parked around the side streets and overflowing into the Village Green. It was a good thing the turning bridge was gone because Bridge Street ... North Bridge Street was bumper to bumper and door handle to door handle pickups.

A semi load of custom built portable toilets pulled in and parked at the head of the lawn. The trailer was leveled, steps were positioned on both sides and I didn't know a thing except the shitters were open for business.

The power company, MP&L, showed up, an Ottawa wearing a hard hat installed a temp meter and left. I didn't know a thing.

A genuine union electrician, an Odaawa, put in wiring from the meter to the semi so the macerator and fans would work. I had no idea.

One of the lawyers took out a raft of federal, state and local permits and a slap hammer, whacked up weekend use permits everywhere and I didn't know a thing

These were the Ojibwa, Ottawa, Potawatomi, Menominee, Sauk (Fox), Meskwaki (Fox) and Miami, Illinois, Shawnee, and Kickapoo tribes all come from the reservations as far away as the Upper Peninsula, Canada, and Illinois. There were NO Wyandot. The Wyandot were the bad guys in this celebration of victory. There were hundreds of dancers, Fancy Dancers in full regalia, Ghost Dancers, Gourd, Grass and Hoop Dancers. Rain, Stomp and Sun Dancers ... and War Dancers ... war club, club and shield, hawk ... and the War Dancers aren't playing around. Every powwow someone gets hurt.

Women set up small fires and made Fry bread, Acorn mush, bean bread, Buffalo, stew, Hump ribs, Cornbread, Jerky, Green Chili, Pemmican, Maple sugar biscuits, salt and smoked fish, Succotash and the usual potatoes, hamburgers and fry bread, fry bread, fry bread, and more fry bread.

There was an actual parade with floats and a Princess (last years ... the official powwow wasn't until September.) The parade ended at my house ... er ... yard and I didn't know a thing.

Somebody lit a fuze ... the fire went KA-WHOOSH (Hollywood would be jealous of the fireball.) and the drumming started.

The fire leapt high into the night. The moon rose full and cast wild and mysterious shadows. The incessant heartbeat of the drum, the cries of the lead singer followed by the rest of the drummers and then by the dancers drew the nearby townspeople; the word went out, soon the campers from Chas Mears State Park were finding the powwow.

People stopped by and accused me of throwing a party ... shook my hand, stuck some handcrafted gift in it and passed on. I ran out of tobacco really early so the People were searching through the 55 gallon barrel I was tossing the gifts in. When they found something they liked, they took it. I didn't know a thing.

One thing I did know; when I unwrapped the leather bundle and held the pipe over my head the party stopped. You know that "Ooooo" that people say ... or moan ... when that 'PERFECT' star burst explodes on the Fourth of July? Yeah ... that's the one ... this ceremonial pipe had been lost in the Battle of Pentwater Lake. I have no idea how it got in the engine room ... not a thing.