Dakota by Gwen Florio Read Free Book Online Page A

you’ll be just as rosy as he is.” She walked to the map and put her left hand on Magpie and stretched her right as far as it would go, across the state line into North Dakota. “You’re talking a hell of a mileage bill,” she said to Lola. “Betcha Jorkki says no.”
    “Jorkki says yes,” Jorkki said. “What’s the story?”
    Jan spoke before Lola could answer. “If it’s in the patch, it’s one that’s already been done. Repeatedly. The fracking boom has been written to death. Besides, Lola probably doesn’t even know what fracking is.”
    Lola hoped she sounded more authoritative than she felt. “I do, too. It’s a way of going after oil.”
    Jan’s grin anticipated victory. “And gas, too. What’s it mean?”
    Lola tried to joke her way out. “Damned if I know, but it sounds like a cuss word. Which seems to be how people think of it.”
    “Hydraulic fracturing,” Jorkki informed her. “They blast liquid into deep rock to break it up and release the oil. Or, as Jan pointed out, gas. And not everybody thinks of it as a cuss word. Before the boom, that area was losing people so fast the census folks classified it as frontier again. You’ve got counties out there with fewer than one person per square mile. Fracking means salvation for entire towns. People are working jobs with living-wage pay and benefits for the first time in their lives.”
    Lola shot a triumphant grin of her own at Jan. “And that’s exactly the idea of my story. Those towns aren’t just in the patch. A lot of the Blackfeet people are going over there for work. I thought maybe I’d do a story”—Lola calculated—“maybe a whole series of stories, about that fact. They’ve got to leave their families for three-week shifts. Then, when something happens like Judith’s dying, they’re away when their families need them most. I’d like to see what their lives are like so far from home.” She wandered to Jorkki’s desk and tried to look over his shoulder at Jan’s story on the screen.
    Jan joined her and reached around Jorkki and hit “store.” The screen went blank. “Half of Montana is driving back and forth to Dakota for work. There’s nothing new about that.” She sat back down at her desk.
    “But it’s different on the rez,” Lola said, warming to her own nascent idea. “The money they’re bringing home, it’s changing everything there. People can finally afford to buy things, real things, like furniture and houses.” She stopped, aware that she’d made a fine argument for doing a story on the reservation, but had yet to justify a trip to the patch. “But at what cost? Extended family is such a big deal. Now you’ve got family men living on their own in—what do they call them?—man camps.”
    “She’s right.” A soft voice came from the back of the room. It had taken months for Tina to realize that deference was something she had to shed along with her coat and schoolbooks whenever she walked into the newsroom, but she was learning.
    “Did you hear that, Jorkki?” Finch asked. “Tina said she’s right. And she should know.”
    Tina grimaced obligingly in Finch’s direction. He felt around on his desk for a stray paper napkin and mopped at the freshet on his brow.
    “Good lord,” Jan said. “The man is going to blow an aneurysm.”
    “How long?” said Jorkki.
    Lola wished she’d done a little more preparation. “I think people from the reservation have only started going over in a big way for about six months or so. Just about the time I got here. Long enough now so that Josephine’s husband just started up a van service to run people back and forth.”
    “I don’t give a shit about Josephine’s husband.”
    Lola slumped, avoiding Jan’s eyes.
    “Scratch that. It’d make for a nice sidebar. I meant, how long will you need?”
    Lola let out a long breath. “Couple, three days. Not counting the driving. Four. Five.”
    “Three. And the driving’s on your own time. Jan’s right.