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yourself?”
    â€œThat’s what the police asked,” said River’s Voice, dejected. “Yes, just me. I have no way to prove this. What do you call that, John?”
    â€œAn alibi.”
    â€œYes, I have no alibi.” The Cree man looked discouraged. John ran over to the window and looked outside. Elmer was talking up a storm with Constable Wood but it looked like the officer was getting impatient with him. It couldn’t last much longer. He decided to switch topics.
    â€œSummer really misses you but my father told her a jail is no place for girls, so she couldn’t come inside,” said John.
    River’s Voice took a deep breath and his eyes were misted over. “Your father is right. This is no place for her. Tell her I miss her. Tell her I have not stopped singing.”
    John nodded his head and smiled, happy that River’s Voice understood.
    â€œWe’ll do everything we can to figure out what really happened that night. We won’t leave any stone unturned,” said John.
    River’s Voice looked puzzled. “Stone…unturned?”
    â€œOh, it’s an old saying,” explained John, forgetting River’s Voice wasn’t likely to know common English sayings, given that he spoke Cree most of the time. “It means we will be very
    complete and thorough,” said John.
    He nodded appreciatively. “John, I don’t know if anyone has enough time to help.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” asked John.
    â€œIn six days I will be taken away from here to a larger prison in Regina. The trial will happen soon after.”
    â€œRegina! That’s two hundred miles away! In that case,” said John, “the way I see it is that we only have five days to figure this out.”

Chapter 7 The Eagle and the Storm

    For as long as John could remember, Taggart’s General Store in Borden had always looked the same, at least from the outside. Its dark green roof and long, worn, wooden porch were as familiar as the back of his own hand.
    Upon entering, though, it was hard to know what might be found. Sure, the necessities and old standbys were there—flour, salt, tea, animal feeds, and farm tools. Sugar and raisins and mixed nuts were scooped from large bins and weighed in brown paper bags. A great round of delicious-smelling cheese stood under a glass counter, which often competed with the aroma of freshly-ground coffee. It was a meeting place, too, where men talked about the weather and women converged on the dry goods side of the store, chatting about their children, neighbours or church get-togethers.
    Each month, it seemed something new was added to the store: candy-striped treats on the counter, new clothing from Montreal or New York City, the latest marbles and balls and
    new dolls. All of it was shipped by wagon or train and it was exciting when new goods came in and were set up for sale.
    Four or five times a year, for a couple of weeks each time, store owner Max Taggart left Borden, leaving his mother to run things. Some folks said he had a lady friend in Toronto. Others said he just liked to travel.
    Actually, Max was a lot like his store. He always looked the same on the outside, but inside, you never knew what to expect. He had a personality that was difficult to predict from one day to the next. To many, it was a surprise that he had gone into sales, since he didn’t like to see people every day. He could be silent and unhelpful one day but rather pleasant the next.
    â€œSo how did you keep Constable Wood talking so long, Elmer?” John asked quietly as they walked up the steps of Taggart’s General Store. Elmer grinned.
    â€œIt wasn’t too difficult, actually. At first I was just hollering about my ankle and how sore it was. But then I asked him if he thought a wrecked ankle would prevent me from joining the police academy in Regina. He seemed really impressed that I was thinking about being a police officer and