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