Chapter 6
An Hour Later
Alexei shoved open the door to Governor Simon Caldwell’s office without waiting to be announced.
He didn’t care that it was almost time for the governor to leave for the evening, nor did he care that one of the governor’s clerks rushed after him, telling him he couldn’t enter.
He didn’t even care that his boots left muddy tracks on the rug due to the rain.
He’d arrived in Sitka less than an hour ago, and as far as he was concerned, he’d already waited too long to start demanding answers.
“You ordered the entire village of Klawock to leave Prince of Wales Island?”
“Alexei.” The governor looked up from where he sat behind his massive desk working through a stack of papers, then placed his pen carefully into its inkwell. “How nice to see you. I was just about to send a messenger to your office to arrange a meeting, and yet here you are.”
“Here I am,” he growled. “Explain yourself.”
“I’d love to.” The governor picked up a sheet of paper that had been lying on the corner of his desk and held it out for him. “You are hereby barred from visiting the villages of Klawock, Kasaan, Ketchikan, Wrangell, Petersburg, Unalaska, Barrow, or anywhere else.”
“What?” Alexei strode forward, once again not caring that his boots left scuffs of mud on the rug.
A quick glance at the paper told him it said something about either halting contact with tribes or registering as an Indian agent or both.
“You can’t stop me from trading with villages I’ve been working with my entire life. ”
“But I can.” Simon folded his hands over the polished desk, his thin lips pressing into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“You see, the Department of the Interior is paying quite close attention to the tribes in Alaska. They’re under the rather mistaken assumption that they have some sort of claim to Alaska, and the government wants that corrected. ”
Alexei tossed the paper back on the desk. “They were living and working here long before you arrived.”
“We paid Russia for every inch of this land.”
“Yes, and the Tlingit, Yupik, Inupiat, Aleut, Athabaskans, Haida, and any other tribe will tell you the land was never Russia’s to sell.”
A flicker of something he couldn’t quite read passed over the governor’s features—there and gone in less than a second.
Then the man reached for the heavy brass letter opener on his desk.
He turned it absently in his fingers, studying the dull gleam of metal.
“Perhaps you’re right, but the Indians won’t claim the land is theirs either.
They don’t view land as something that can be owned, only used. What a shame for them.”
It was a shame. Over the past century, that difference in mentality had caused far too many tribes to be taken advantage of, not just in Alaska, but everywhere.
“Since the Department of the Interior wants the Alaskan tribes to be consolidated into already-established towns, they’ve decided to limit outside contact with the tribes.
” The governor set down the letter opener with a thunk.
“They don’t want any negative influence on the tribes, you see.
Don’t want them communicating with anyone who might try to persuade them that they have a claim to the land—or tell them not to leave a village they’re being ordered to leave. ”
Alexei picked up the piece of paper again and looked at it a little closer. “It sounds like you’re saying I need to become an Indian agent in order to have contact with the tribes. What form do I need to fill out for that?”
The governor chuckled, then reached for another a short stack of papers. “You can apply, but you’ll never be accepted. Your views of the natives are too . . . ah, compassionate.”
The form was three pages long and filled with questions. Alexei’s eyes landed on a question halfway down the first page. What’s your view of using government boarding schools to assimilate the next generation of Indian children into American culture?
He crumpled the paper in his hand.
The governor chuckled again, then leaned back in his chair. “That’s what I thought. The policy goes into effect at the beginning of February.”
“The beginning of February? That’s less than a month.”
Governor Caldwell shrugged, brushing an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve. “Best say your good-byes then.”
“And if I don’t follow this order?” There was no way the government could enforce such an absurd restriction, not considering the vast, remote landscape of Alaska. He’d likely be able to visit all of the villages on that list without anyone from the government ever finding out.
“You can test me if you want, but I don’t advise it.” The governor reached for his pen and dipped it into the inkwell. “The people who do usually lose.”
Alexei’s jaw tightened. He turned and strode toward the door. His hand was already on the knob, ready to wrench the door open, when the governor called him back.
“Oh, and Alexei, one more thing.”
Alexei turned to find the governor holding out another stack of papers.
He walked back to the desk and swiped them out of the man’s hand. “What are these? More forms for me to fill out?”
“No. It’s the cancellation of three ship building commissions.” The governor tapped a finger against the top page. “I’ve found a shipyard down in San Francisco that can do the work instead.”
Alexei’s fingers clenched around the stack as he scanned the official, neatly inked lines. “You’re canceling . . .”
His throat tightened as his gaze trailed over the top page that referenced three different contracts with different ship names and specifications. The Amos Family Shipyard had been scheduled to build all three of the government vessels at various points over the next two years.
Not anymore.
Part of him wanted to ask why, but he already knew the answer.
Just like he knew fighting would be useless.