“Arapaho families shifted on the folding chairs arranged in long, tight rows. Groups of men crowded against the walls. People were still pouring through the front entrance, including whites who thrust white signs upright the minute they were inside. BIA police officers stood around the hall, hands on hops, eyes following the crowd. The musty smells of perspiration and wet wool filled the hall, the sounds of coughing and clearing of throats. On the stage two long tables with metal legs flanked a ...podium. The six tribal councilmen sat at one table. Wilson Lee, the elderly chairman, occupied the middle chair, with Matthew Bosse on his right, surveying the audience, amusement and confidence mingling in his expression. It was Bosse, Vicky knew, who had proposed building a nuclear waste facility on the reservation. The councilman was in his sixties, the age of reverence, a good man, she knew, even though she found herself working against him now. It struck her she had become one of the upstarts, the younger generation, who challenged the elders, the kind of person her grandfather had always warned her about.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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