Scrip Buyer 1905

sent from Winnipeg he comes

down the Beaver River

like a fake-bearded pharaoh

ferried in a homemade wooden rowboat

a hard-working hired half-breed at the helm

comes bearing cash in a canvas bag strapped to his hip

steamblotted stinking fabric rubbing

his tender skin raw, drawing up

his coarse-thicket scent

his whole hot body reeking

with purpose yet still somehow

his seems a small menace

he travels for weeks

past river cattails and slippery slick-bellied

mudfish suckling river bottom

to reach Sakitawak

where an upright tent sits,

south side of the nettled bush

where commissioner McKenna holds court

with interior Indians and half-breeds

he questions then christens them

one or the other—declares, names,

classifies, ranks and sorts them

into his doublewide red ledger

to make it all official

on the scrip buyer’s first night in camp

with the full moon strung low

against the flat-bottom boats

mosquitoes swarming against their ears:

a handshake

to fix the price this year

at a dollar an acre

for redbacked

half-breed scrip notes