Page 159 of South of Nowhere

“Greetings. Now, have a seat. If there’s a seat to have.”

Mrs. Petaluma pushed one forward and Annie sat.

“Mrs. Shaw was explaining that until today your farm and Redding Mining Company had an informal arrangement to divide the water in the Never Summer River fifty-fifty since neither of you could prove superior rights.”

She sighed as she repeated, “Until today.”

“Mrs. Shaw told me a lawyer for the mine found a certificate of first use that predates your family’s arrival in Olechu County.”

“That’s right. And it looks authentic.”

“It probably is. The water board records don’t go back that far, but those certificates were not uncommon and the board and local authorities have upheld them unless there had been an obvious forgery.”

“It didn’t look forged.” Her voice was filled with discouragement.

Grossman absently brushed his crazy hair, making it all the crazier. “Now, a little history about Hinowah. It was originally populated by a settlement of Native Americans from the Miwok Nation. By the way, I have to thank my paralegal for this. Rashid is a miracle worker. He dove into records going back hundreds of years. Found a treaty between tribal elders and the army. The tribe would supply fruits and vegetables for the soldiers, and the army would protect them from warring tribes.

“And do you know what else Rashid found? Maps of irrigation ditches from the Never Summer to the Miwok farmland, as part of that treaty. Dated 1841. I understand from Mrs. Shaw that you’re Miwok, Mrs. Petaluma.”

“Yes. And my family has been on the land here since 1837.”

The exact date seemed curious to Shaw, until she continued with an edge to her voice. “The year our family ancestors fled—after the Amador Massacre. Mexican colonists attacked their village and executed two hundred of our people.”

Colter, Dorion and Russell had been homeschooled, and as part of the history “track,” Ashton had taught how, throughout the 1800s, the California government, as well as white settlers, engaged in systematic genocide and ethnic cleansing, forced labor and child separation. The Indigenous population was 150,000 in the 1830s. In 1900, it was around 15,000.

The woman scoffed bitterly. “FortPleasant…it was anything but.”

Grossman grew somber. “I am very sorry for that, Mrs. Petaluma. Now, to the matter at hand. According to the Law of the River, the Hinowah Miwok tribe can claim first use of the Never Summer. And since you appear to be the sole successor in interest, Mrs. Petaluma, that water’s yours. Every drop. One hundred percent.”

The woman took this news without any emotion. After the briefest moment of hesitation, she tilted her head toward Annie Coyne. “So if I want, I can give her as much as she needs.”

Coyne gasped. Her mouth was agape.

Grossman nodded and said, “It’s yours to do with what you want.”

“Can we get a ruling on that?”

“I’ll draft the petition today.”

“And also a codicil in my will to make sure my heirs do what I direct with the water.”

“Of course. Just send me a copy of your original will. Mrs. Shaw will give you my email.”

“Mi’we’lu takmu, sir. Thank you.”

The call ended.

Then Annie Coyne was on her feet and throwing her arms around Mrs. Petaluma, who—Shaw was not surprised—endured the gesture awkwardly. Mary Dove received the next embrace.

Then, instantly, it was back to business. Mrs. Petaluma rose and headed for the kitchen, saying, “We have peach pie and rhubarb. I commend them both.”

As if anyone who dined in her house would be committing a sin to forego dessert.

71.

Shaw was on his Yamaha, returning to the Winnebago.

His sister and mother were now safely in their new motel, miles from the one Mary Dove had mentioned in the note taped to the front door. Dorion had checked into the new place using a fake name, no ID and paid cash. This was not exactly according to the rules but she paid $200 for a room that went for $49.99 with the story that she was escaping an abusive husband and had her elderly mother in tow.

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