Kate looked around to see who the claim was being staked in front of, and she saw Jim Chopin watching. She looked back at Christie, who smiled and buried her head in Dan’s shoulder.

Kate shut the door behind her with more force than necessary.

The Roadhouse was twenty-seven miles down the road from Niniltna, nine feet and three inches outside the Niniltna Native Association’s tribal jurisdiction, and therefore not subject to the dry law currently in effect. Or was it damp? Kate thought it might have changed, yet again, at the last election from dry to damp, or maybe it was from wet to damp. It seemed like every time she checked her mail in Niniltna, either the Alaska Beverage Distributors or whatever passed at the moment for the local temperance league had someone standing outside the post office with a petition.

Kate couldn’t understand it herself. The first time Niniltna passed a dry law-no liquor allowed to be owned or sold within tribal boundaries-alcohol-related crime dropped 87 percent the first month and Trooper Jim Chopin was made conspicuous by his absence, a consummation devoutly to be wished for, in Kate’s opinion. When it went to damp at the next election-no one could sell liquor, but people could have it for private consumption in their homes-the stats went back up and Jim was more in evidence. When it went to wet-liquor allowed to be sold within tribal boundaries-incidents of child abuse, spousal abuse, assault, burglary, rape, and even murder all went through the roof and Jim spent more time in the Park than he did in Tok, where his post was based.

It was evident to Kate that booze made you stupid. If she could have made alcohol disappear by wishing it so, it would have vanished off the face of the entire planet. On the other hand, Bernie was a responsible bartender, who had been known to disable snow machines to keep drunks from driving home. She’d seen him refuse service to pregnant women, and Auntie Vi kept a running tally of who was and who wasn’t to keep Bernie informed. If people have to drink, Kate thought, swinging out of Bernie’s parking lot, Bernie’s is the place I’d send them.