Bitter Creek Read Online Free Page A

He did not look hopeful.
    â€œYou find Amalie,” said Du Pré, “that is all you must do.”
    Père Godin nodded. “See what I can do,” he said.
    Chappie came off the stool very quickly and he grabbed the old man by the shoulders and he lifted him up so they could see eye to eye.
    â€œYou do whatever you got to,” he said. “Me, I will decide when it is enough. Now maybe I take you, Benetsee’s, sweat, you listen the voices, your people. …”
    â€œ Non ,” said Père Godin. “Lot of women are mad at me, are dead, I don’t want to hear them, you know. …”
    â€œWe are going now,” said Chappie. He put his good left hand on the back of Père Godin’s neck and marched him out the door.
    â€œWell,” said Susan Klein, “for once Chappie didn’t finish his drink.”
    â€œI am going,” said Du Pré. “It is hard, Chappie, hold on to his neck and steer the car. …”
    He kissed Madelaine and he went out. He got into his cruiser and he started it and he drove back toward Chappie’s trailer; his headlamps caught the two of them marching toward Chappie’s pickup.
    Du Pré slowed. Chappie opened the rear door and he flung Père Godin in and he climbed in, too.
    â€œThing is,” he said, “you got to keep telling me things I like to hear so I don’t break your neck. …”
    â€œJesus,” said Père Godin. “It is just a song, damn me for saying I know it. …”
    â€œNo,” said Chappie, “it is not just a song. …”
    Du Pré turned round and he drove off toward Benetsee’s, turned on the rutted track, parked by the cabin. There was a light on inside.
    The door opened and the old man stood there, small in his clothes, a red kerchief round his head.
    â€œIt is Du Pré,” he said, “got friends, come see me late at night. Must be important.”
    â€œWe want to sweat,” said Chappie.
    â€œ Non ,” said Benetsee, “got old pecker there, bring him here.” Chappie got out, with his hand still on Père Godin’s neck.
    Chappie set Père Godin down on the porch in front of Benetsee. “My old friend,” said Benetsee, “we walk, see the creek, have some wine …”
    Du Pré went to the cruiser and he got a half-gallon jug out of the trunk and he unscrewed the cap and set it back and he handed the jug to Benetsee.
    The two old men walked down the hill toward the creek. Du Pré sat on the steps and Chappie, taller, on the porch. Du Pré rolled a smoke and gave it to Chappie and he rolled one for himself and they smoked and looked up at the stars.
    Thin veils of cloud sat high and still, a quarter moon hung low in the east.
    â€œI wonder what happened,” said Chappie. “What happened at Bitter Creek?”
    â€œPeople were killed, buried there,” said Du Pré.
    â€œLot of blood on this land,” said Chappie.
    â€œBlood everywhere,” said Du Pré.
    â€œWhy the roundup, the Métis?” said Chappie.
    â€œWhites want something they had,” said Du Pré. “Or maybe the whites wanted to blame the Métis for something they did. …”
    â€œOld woman must be a hundred,” said Chappie.
    â€œMe,” said Du Pré, “I have this great-great-great-aunt up in Canada, she live to be one hundred twenty-one. …”
    â€œI don’t want, live that long,” said Chappie.
    There was sudden laughter from the old men down by the creek. “I like Père Godin,” said Chappie. “He don’t want to be a hero.”
    â€œ Non ,” said Du Pré. “Him just want, fuck every woman on earth.”
    â€œHim ver’ ambitious,” said Chappie, “very commendable. …”
    â€œHim got a pretty good start,” said Du Pré.
    â€œSo,” said Chappie, “I guess we got to find that Bitter