River 41 -- Retribution

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By Dawn Natelle, edited by Eric

Chapter 41 – Retribution

So far: The river has not died, but is greatly wounded and River might still lose it. But a sting is set up to catch the polluters, and then Kyle and George Audette come to the rescue to help get it cleaned up. Our friend from the MoE makes another appearance, and really does little to help things.

Sid Oldman got to work more than an hour before the day shift started. He was a bit upset to see a forklift left out in the loading bay, along with a bunch of barrels that were supposed to be disposed of in the morning. Todd would be sleeping now, probably, but he would call him after lunch to find out why the guys hadn’t done everything they had been told to do.

Sid climbed the stairs to his office, which had a picture window that looked out over the plant. There were only eleven men working the night shift. There had been 24 when he got here, but he had managed to right-size the workforce down to a more manageable level. It did mean that maintenance work didn’t get done as quickly as it should, but Sid was hoping that he would only be spending another year or so here, and then move on to a bigger plant. The next manager could look after aging equipment and a worn out workforce.

Sid had slashed costs significantly at the plant. The previous manager had several expensive pieces of equipment on order, and Sid had postponed all the purchases, greatly improving his bottom line. Then there was the workforce reduction. There had been complaints in the fall when the workers were told they couldn’t use their holidays during hunting season, but when faced with the option of hunt and lose your job, versus defer your vacation and keep your job, everyone chose the latter.

Sid’s latest idea meant that he was able to defer the purchase of a new truck to take waste to Montreal for disposal. The river ran right past the plant, and provided a handy alternative to trucking the waste away. He felt content that a few hundred dollars into the hands of the MoE investigator who would come by would make sure that there would be no further complaints. He hadn’t spoken with any MoE people yet, but everyone has his price, Sid thought. Two hundred every two weeks was far less than the cost of a truck lease, and that doesn’t include the exorbitant disposal fees he would be saving. Every little bit helps. His district manager was extremely pleased at the numbers that Sid was sending in, and there were hints that he might even get identified as a ‘turnaround expert’ for the company.

His wife and son might not like that. They had fought against the move north last year, and if he got that kind of job it would mean moving every two or three years to a new plant. But it would keep Sid moving on the corporate ladder. His goal was no less than to become a vice-president of the company before he turned 50.

Sid spent the next two hours going over his accounts, looking for other areas of potential savings. He discovered that the warehouse was running low on toilet paper for the staff washrooms. After considering just ‘running out’ and letting the staff suffer or bring their own roll in, Sid decided to order a bulk purchase of a bargain roll. Single ply and somewhat rougher than the average sandpaper, it was half the cost of the paper the last manager had ordered.

“Mr. Oldman,” his intercom squawked. It was his secretary. “There are some men here to see you. And they have dogs … or wolves with them.”

“I’m not seeing anyone today,” he barked back. “Have Todd and the boys escort them to the gate.”

“Todd and his men are off this morning. He said he had worked a night shift last night.”

Damn, that’s right, Sid thought. He might have to deal with this. Just then the door to his office opened, and people started filing in.

Sid recognized several of them. There was that damned lawyer fellow, and three of the Indians he had let go last year. What was this all about? They got their damned severance, didn’t they? Sid decided to take the tough approach.

“What the hell are you all doing here? This is my office and I only meet people by appointment. And you don’t have an appointment, so get the hell out of here. Now.”

“I’m sorry sir,” the lawyer said. “But I’m afraid you are mistaken. This is no longer your office. And this plant is no longer your plant. In 1960 when the band leased this land to the mill, one of the stipulations was that the plant would have no negative impact on the environment. That is why the mill has such a tall chimney, with expensive environmental scrubbers on the output. That was agreed during the 1980s at the band’s insistence.”

“According to the lease agreement, if the plant willfully causes any pollution to the air, land, or water around the site, the lease will be terminated immediately, and all contents of the plant will become property of the band. Last night four of your men were arrested dumping chemicals into the river, the night following a similar dump of chemicals. As a result, the band is enforcing the agreement signed in 1960 and taking back ownership of the plant. You are the one who will leave.”

Two large wolves that Sid finally noticed in the room reinforced the lawyer’s words by growling. Sid was taken aback. The boys had been arrested. Todd wouldn’t blab, but the others? One of them might try to cop a plea. Sid thought fast.

“Those men were supposed to take those chemicals to Montreal for disposal. I know nothing about them dumping them into the river. That is horrible. But you can’t blame the plant for their misdeeds.”

“Indeed we can, Mr. Oldman,” the lawyer continued. “They were in a company truck and the chemicals will soon be proven to come from this facility. We have several men in your loading bay where similar barrels are stockpiled. Now, are you planning to leave peacefully?”

“Like hell I am,” Sid shouted, picking up the phone. “I’m calling the police.”

“Call away,” Nick said. “Be sure to mention that the First Nations reserve that the plant is located on have occupied the mill as a land-claims issue. I’m sure the police will find that interesting. You have two minutes to complete your call and get out.”

Sid got a desk sergeant at the Terrace Bay OPP and told his story, trying to put on the best possible spin. But after a few minutes, Nick grabbed the phone and started to talk to the sergeant, giving a slightly different, but entirely true explanation. Sid screamed as the others in the office started to drag him from the room, and escort him to the front door of the building. Sid tried to argue one last time as he stood next to his car, but the two wolves started growling and salivating, and he decided he preferred being inside the car. After two minutes, he drove off.

Nick hung up the phone after telling the OPP that only one officer would be needed at the mill, as there had been no violence. That was a relief to the sergeant, since he still had one officer at the site of the arrests the night before, and she would need to be relieved soon. Two other officers had taken two prisoners to the jail in Thunder Bay, and one other was at the Terrace Bay hospital, where two more prisoners were receiving treatment for chemical burns. That officer would have to accompany them when they were transferred to Thunder Bay or Sudbury, depending on what the local doctor decided.

Nick turned to the men still in the office. “Wayne, can you start going through these books and other records? I know you are still a student, but you have more business background than anyone else on the reserve. See if you can make head or tail of things. Don’t worry, we won’t make you plant manager. We will have to hire someone, assuming we get control of the mill.”

He then pointed to the three former workers from the plant. “You three are, as of this minute, back on payroll here. Go out into the plant and try to make yourselves useful. Let the men know that we hope to keep the plant operating, so it will be business as usual unless they are notified otherwise.” The three men left, and went down to the mill floor.

Nick spent nearly an hour with Wayne looking over the books. Nothing overtly illegal, like duplicate accounts, seemed to be present. After a few minutes he called the secretary up and she proved to be far more useful than he was, helping explain accounts and ledgers to Wayne. Eventually Nick edged out of the office.

To his surprise, as he was walking down the stairs there was a massive cheer from the men working on their machines. Apparently the past manager was not well-loved by the workforce.

At the mill entrance, Nick found an OPP cruiser had just pulled up with a single officer inside. Nick went over and explained the situation to the officer, showed him copies of the lease agreement, and over the next hour managed to convince the man that no crimes had been committed, just a change in ownership of the plant.

That is when the media started to show up. There were several newspaper and radio people from Thunder Bay, followed by the first television truck. Word had gotten out that First Nations people had taken over a paper mill, and this was apparently big news. Nick was interviewed over and over, pretty much telling the same story he had told the police.


It was nearing noon when River and Kyle were cleaning up the last of the heavy contaminants from the river bottom when the MoE car got out. This time there were two men in it. One was Agent Westerbrook, the other was a taller man in an expensive-looking suit.

“See, they are still doing it,” Westerbrook told the other as they approached.

“Hello,” the taller man said. “My name is Ernest Whitecliffe, supervisor of the Thunder Bay office of the Ministry of the Environment. Can you let me know what you are doing?”

“Yes,” River said curtly. She had now been awake for nearly 24 hours, and without the river being able to refresh her, was exhausted and hungry. Liesl had brought the crew sandwiches before she left for school in the morning, but they were almost finished: now this pair showed up. “We are cleaning the heavy metal contaminants out of the river. There is a low spot here, and we are now getting the last trace elements.”

“What kind of device is that?” Whitecliffe asked. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Is it working?”

“We have pulled up nearly six barrels of material,” River explained. “Right now we are only getting about a teaspoon of contaminants per scoop, which is about a half a cubic foot. But that barrel, the second one we brought up, was much more concentrated.”

The manager leaned over and got a whiff of the barrel, and then stepped back quickly. “Did you get a sample of that?” he asked Westerbrook.”

“Yes sir. I also told them to stop messing with the site until we could get the proper equipment up here. They seem to have ignored me.”

“Why would you do that? One of our dredges wouldn’t be half as effective as this unit is, and it will be months before one is available, unless we pull it from another job. These people need their water back now, not in the fall.” He turned to River. “How much would it cost for one of these machines? The department could make use of this for smaller jobs rather than waiting for the big units.”

“They cost $150,000 each,” River said, making the number up. The shocked look on Kyle’s face told her that the number was several magnitudes higher than he would have said. He had about to offer a far lower price when the manager spoke, before River gave her price.

“Is that all? Our big units cost several million. We could buy four or six of these and scatter them at locations around the province.”

Kyle got a big smile on his face. Six units? Nearly a million dollars of government money? “Where to now, River?” he asked as he prepared to take another scoop.

“I think we have it all,” River said. “We can wrap up and head for lunch.” She turned to Whitecliffe. “Will your people want to take care of these barrels?”

“Definitely. Westerbrook will look after it. And I want samples of the river bottom in this site,” the man told his assistant. “You know, the usual pattern. I want these people to be confident that their water is clean.”

“Yes sir. The usual pattern. It is in the manual.”

River smiled. She couldn’t say it to them, nor would they believe it, but she knew that every last drop of contaminant had been removed. The river had told her so a minute earlier. The river was now clean enough that she could wade into it. The lighter oils had gone out to the lake. There was still some clinging to the vegetation on the banks, but the next rainfall would get rid of that.

Kyle packed up his unit, with the MoE man watching in amazement as he folded it up compactly on the small trailer behind his pickup, and drove off, taking River and dropping her off at her house. Arriving at home, River made herself a sandwich, and then curled up in her bed, quickly falling asleep. The river had warned her that she shouldn’t go into the water until after a rainfall.

She woke just before supper. Mark was back from school, and Dale from his work at the construction site for Jenny’s Place II. Even Alison had spent the morning at the credit union. It was closed, like most of the businesses downtown, due to no water, but she had done some paperwork. The gas station was open, although not the restaurant. A semi-truck had come in from Thunder Bay, filled with bottled water, which was being distributed free of charge to the local residents.

What made River happiest, even beyond the lovely smells of Alison’s dinner cooking, was the sound of rain. A hard rain was pelting down, and it had been going for over an hour now. Another hour and the riverbanks would be cleared. That would all be gone by midnight, so River could visit the river the next morning.


River had trouble getting up at 2 a.m. She was not used to feeling tired, like she had for so much of the last few days. She let Mark sleep. He could reunite with the river tomorrow. She went out the back of the house and down to the water. She stuck a toe in, and for a second it was cold, but then slowly warmed. It was not as quick as in the past, but she immediately felt refreshed.

It is safe, the river said. I am still weak, but getting stronger by the minute. I won’t be able to keep your clothes dry today, and you shouldn’t try sitting on the bottom. Maybe tomorrow. Thank you for all you have done for me.

“Thank you for all you have done for me. For us,” River replied. “You have supported and nourished the people and the land for hundreds of years. We can never do enough to balance that.”

River had to leave after just an hour, instead of the four or five hours she normally spent in the water. It was taking too much out of the river to keep her warm. She got out and headed back to the house in her dripping outfit. Luckily it was early summer, and not too cold. In the house she changed into dry things, and tried to plan her day. There would be no school today. River knew that the water was pure again, and planned to get the word out to the people along the river that they could open their systems up again. While the town water plant would be closed until the MoE people got clear results from their tests, ‘according to the manual’, the people living in the reserve had private systems. Those close to the water had direct pipelines in. Those further back had communal systems that might service as many as 20 houses and cabins. Sewage was handled by septic tank systems, and the band was strict about ensuring that these worked and didn’t contaminate the river water that everyone drank from.

Wayne showed up at about 7, stopping in when he saw lights on at the Waters house. He was headed to the mill, where he was trying to decipher the accounts and processes needed to keep it operating during the ‘occupation’. He filled River in on what had happened there while she was busy cleaning the river. She decided to go down herself and see.

When they got there, it was chaotic. There were now five television trailers there, and a band of reporters just outside the gate. A First Nations occupation of an operating business was apparently big news -- especially when they were keeping it running. The two native men manning the gates were armed with bow and arrows only, and this meant that the OPP, who now had five cruisers standing by, were less concerned.

Wayne and River were allowed to drive through, upsetting the horde of reporters who missed their chance to get quotes, or do anything to justify their presence. Inside the plant a tired looking Nick smiled when he saw River had come.

“We have visitors coming soon,” he said. “I’ve managed to get a few hours of sleep in on a cot in the back, but I really need to get a clean suit. I just don’t want to have to face that horde out there right now. It would take me an hour to get through.”

“Call Dad,” River suggested. “He can go over to Marilyn’s and she can pick out something clean for you to wear. I don’t know about a shower though.”

“No problem,” Nick said. “There is a shower in the men’s washroom. I guess occasionally the workers need it, although I have heard that Oldman had banned them from using it during his stay here. But now that we have almost returned to the old staffing levels, men who get dirty can shower and change, instead of having to man their machines in filthy clothes.”

“When is the next shift coming in?” River asked. “Will they be able to get past those people at the gates?”

“Good point,” Nick said. “They will start coming in soon. Maybe we should go out there and provide an update. That way, reporters won’t bother the men and we won’t have bad information going out. I guess I can do it in this suit.”

Dale arrived at about the same time as the men did, while River and Nick provided an update to the reporters. River was a novelty, a young blonde girl who Nick introduced as a tribal elder. She updated the media on what had happened in the second dumping, which they had already heard from Nick, and then told about the cleanup operations, which was news to the reporters. They spent nearly a half hour doing the update, and then headed back into the mill while the reporters filed their reports and began their speculation.

While Nick showered and changed, River watched the coverage on the 24-hour CBC news station, which was doing live broadcasts from the gate and other related stories. The leader of the federal opposition party was decrying the ‘occupation.’ He made it sound as though the First Nations were creating an uprising, and claimed that the government were cowards, letting two men armed with bows and arrows keep 10 armed police officers at bay.

The local member of parliament was there as well. He was a member of the left-leaning New Democratic Party. They considered themselves friends to the First Nations, and friends to workers and labor. Thus they would tend to support a worker-led occupation of the plant. But they were in minority opposition, and thus didn’t want to support any government action on the situation.

Another complication was that while First Nations affairs were the responsibility of the federal government, policing and public safety was the responsibility of the provincial government. This included the OPP. The federal police, the RCMP, had a limited role in Ontario, so were not present at the mill.

Finally the prime minister made a statement. He noted that the First Nations peoples owned the land the mill sat on, and that their lease included the provision that if the plant ever polluted the area, the mill would become the property of the band. He said that the courts would have to decide on the legitimacy of such a claim, and there was no point in escalating the issue.

About 11 a.m. there was another mob scene at the gate. Apparently officials from Weiserhakken Inc., the former owners of the mill, had arrived in three limousines. They were allowed into the gate, and soon entered the mill.

Nick, now clean and besuited, welcomed them into the small boardroom at the mill. The Ojibwe were represented by the elected chief, River as an elder, and Nick as counsel. The company president was there, as well as two vice presidents, and the man who had been Oldman’s supervisor. There was no more space in the room, so another five men from the company were escorted back to their cars. Nick did not want them roaming around the plant.

Nick introduced the Ojibwe contingent, and the supervisor introduced his bosses.

“You know, this foolishness has to stop now,” Peter Cornish, president of the company said. “People have died in other confrontations of this type.”

“Did you see any Ojibwe out there threatening you or any other people?” Nick countered.

“That is completely beyond the point,” Cornish said. “This is our plant, and we intend to take it back. We are filing an injunction at this moment to have control of the plant returned to us.”

“I am aware of that,” Nick said. “We have representation at that hearing, and they will present this document to the judge.” He passed over a photocopy of the original lease agreement. “You will note on page three, third paragraph: Any actions by the lessee that cause environmental damage to the environs of the plant, in the sole opinion of the lessor, will result in the immediate cancellation of the lease, and ownership of the land and all real property on it will immediately become property of the lessor. The lessee will compensate the lessor for any costs involved in returning the land to its original condition.”

The men from the company looked glum as they read the lease.

“We also will be presenting these to that judge,” Nick said, handing over a dozen 8x10 photos. “These show men from this mill, in a truck with the Wieserhakken logo on the side, starting to dump pollutants into the river that runs through this property, the rest of the Ojibwe reserve, and the town of St. Mary’s, which remains on a pollution alert, with residents required to drink only bottled water.”

“What we will not have in time for that hearing are the reports from the Ministry of the Environment specifying what chemicals were being dumped. However, two of your men were splashed in the dumping operation, and the acid involved resulted in extensive burning to their faces. Both are in the hospital in Sudbury at this moment, under police escort.”

Cornish sputtered a bit, and tried to bluster his way on. “Nevertheless property rights in this country are sacrosanct. At best you will retain your land and have an empty plant. You will throw 110 men out of work. Is that your goal?”

“Not at all. And the numbers of men working in the plant were down to under 70 at the time of the incident. The plant is operating right now. We will have a full train of pulp cars ready on Friday, I understand. It is our intention to keep running the plant as an Ojibwe-owned enterprise.”

Cornish laughed aloud, and several of his men joined him. “You don’t have the expertise to run a mill, and your don’t have the equipment. We will remove that before we vacate. And you don’t have the customer base. Who are you going to see all that pulp too?”

“Normally it goes to the Wieserhakken paper mill in Sault Ste. Marie,” Nick said. “Do you have another source for pulp for that mill? Or will it close down if this plant can’t supply it?”

“We could move supplies around from other mills,” Cornish said.

“Business 101. You don’t operate more plants than necessary. Running other mills at a lower capacity to keep that one open doesn’t make sense. How long would it be before that mill closes? It is you, not us, who will be throwing people out of work. And I read in your latest annual report that Wieserhakken in seeing significant growth in the toilet paper and tissue markets. Those are the markets we supply pulp for. Will you forego that increased growth because you can’t deliver enough paper? What will shareholders at the next annual meeting say about that? What will your board say at the next board meeting?”

River took over. “Mr. Cornish, you have a decision to make. There are a lot of media folks out there waiting for a report on what we are talking about in here. You can go out there and announce that your billion-dollar company is going to fight this tiny First Nations band in an attempt to wring out the last possible dollar. Isn’t that going to be a public relations disaster that will have your competitors wringing their hands in glee?”

“Or you can walk out and announce that due to a rogue employee, Wieserhakken has had to turn control of the plant over to the Ojibwe. You can announce regret for poisoning the water of the band and the town, and point out that your company has utmost support for the environment. You can announce that Wieserhakken has reached an agreement with the band, and plans to keep the plant open as an independent partner of the company, supplying your mill in Sault, and continuing to provide the country with the same fine products that they always have. Which message will you give?”

Cornish paused for a long time before replying. “Can we talk this over amongst ourselves? Bring in our other support people?”

The company reps in the cars were brought into the meeting room, and for an hour there was a discussion. Finally Mr. Cornish came to the door, and sent his support people back to the cars. The Ojibwe were invited back, and the company caved entirely. A communiqué was drafted, using much of the language that River has used in presenting the second option. Then Nick insisted upon a short agreement on prices and costs. The company agreed to pay the mill the same amount that they had paid in internal transfers for the next two years. He also got them to agree to transfer a million dollars to the mill to compensate for the deferred equipment purchases that Oldman had cancelled, but were direly needed. There were objections to this, but the company realized that it would cost far more to liquidate the plant, restore the land, and lay off all the Sault workers.

It was nearly four o’clock when River and Mr. Cornish approached the media and made the announcement that the ‘occupation’ was over, and an agreement was made that was highly satisfactory to both sides. It took nearly an hour for the questions to start to get repetitive, and at that point Nick announced that tours of the plant would be offered to the media. Mr. Cornish remained for that, and was able to get his smiling face onto all the Canadian television networks, often seen shaking hands with the pretty little Ojibwe elder.


“Is that your plant, honey?” Donna Turnbell said from her bed. Her husband Ken turned to look and froze. “Yes it is, sweetness. That is the St. Mary’s mill. What is happening?”

“Something about the Indians taking over the mill,” she said. They watched the rest of the clip, and when the announcer moved on to another story Donna sighed. “I miss St. Mary’s. I want to go back.”

“You know that we had to come down here to Thunder Bay,” Ken said. “There is no cancer treatment available up there, and a two-plus hour drive, each way, was too much to handle.”

“I know you loved your job up there at that plant,” Donna said.

“I love you more, honey,” Ken replied.

“Well, the treatments didn’t work, did they?” Donna said. “I’d like to go back to St. Mary’s at least once before I die. Please take me there.”

The doctors said no, that the trip would tax her frail body too much, but Donna was adamant they visit. Ken couldn’t say no to his wife of 30 years’ last wish, and called his old friend Nelson Churchill, asking if he could put them up for a week or two. Nelson immediately agreed, even offering to come down and get them. Ken waived that offer away. He could drive the trip, planning on taking three hours instead of rushing it. Two days later, without medical permission, the pair got into Ken’s car and headed east towards St. Mary’s.

When they arrived at Nelson’s house they were surprised to see Connie there as well. Connie had been a great friend of Donna’s and the Turnbells were upset when the couple split.

“It is so good to see the two of you back together,” Donna gushed as she got out of the car. She put her hand on Connie’s ample baby bump. “I didn’t think this was possible for you.”

“It was a minor miracle,” Connie said. She was astounded at how much her old friend had deteriorated over the past year. The cancer had made her look 80 instead of 52. Connie looked at Nelson, and he mouthed the word ‘River.’ Connie nodded.

“I know you just got over a long drive,” Connie said. “But we think we need to take you to see someone special. It will just be a few more minutes, and you and I can sit in the back and chat while the boys sit in the front.”

Donna was confused, and Ken was more than a little upset that his friends were making a tired Donna expend more energy, but they agreed and drove onto the reservation.

River was in the water when Ken pulled up at the meeting place. The river was still weak, only two weeks after the incident, but with the heavy contaminants gone it was continually gaining strength. It had told her to stay a bit longer, since there was someone coming. She waded to the bank and waited while Connie and Nelson helped a frail looking woman out of the car. She nearly had to be carried, while her angry looking husband stood behind.

When the woman was close enough, River reached out and grasped her bony hand. Immediately energy fed into the woman, and she straightened up a bit, eyes going wide. “That feels so good, dear. What is it?”

“That is our river,” River said. “Come. It will make you feel better.”

As River helped Donna into the water, Ken was astonished to see how well his wife was moving. It was like three or four months ago. He moved to the river, and took River’s other hand.

“It works best with both of you,” River said, as she led the two of them out into the river. “This is the scary part. We are going to sit down in the water.”

Donna felt blissed out by the sudden lack of pain in her body, and quickly dropped into the water with River. Ken just looked on in shock. The river was clear again, and he could see down at River and his wife on the sand bottom, apparently fine. He took a breath and dropped down to be with them.

It took several hours before River had them all stand up. “It shouldn’t take that long,” she said. “But the river was attacked two weeks ago, and is still weak. But I think you will find that your cancer is gone now.

“I feel wonderful,” Donna said as she waded unassisted to the shore. Ken also looked 10 years younger, but that was because caring for his wife, and watching her slowly die had prematurely aged him. He was now back to himself.

Connie and Nelson had waited on the bank, and were ecstatic to see that the river had again cured good people. The four waved to River, and then drove off to the Churchill home where Donna had to argue that she did NOT need to take a nap, but instead the four played cards like they had in the old days before Connie and Nelson had split up.

Two days later Nick came to visit and offered Ken his old job back. Wayne was still working at the plant, doing schedules and what he could, but it needed a real manager.

The mill was now in Ojibwe hands, and Nick could not offer a salary as large as Ken had been getting from Weiserhakken Paper, but the band agreed to offer the fourth of the five big homes as a part of the package. Ken had gotten a low price in selling his local home last year to take Donna to Thunder Bay, and rent there had eaten into his savings, so the offer of a luxury home convinced him to take the job he had once loved. And when Donna saw the massive stone fireplace and cathedral ceiling of the home, she was immediately in love with it. The pair never did return to Thunder Bay, sending RedBear Cartage to pick up their meager furnishing and return them to the new big house.

The first day that Ken arrived at the plant he found all three shifts present. A few men had to be manning the machines, but the rest lined up and cheered as he entered, and he had to shake hands with every man in the plant before he was again cheered as he climbed the steps to the manager’s office. He had agreed to keep Wayne on staff for the rest of the summer, helping clear up some of the messes that Oldman had left. Wayne noted that he was learning more at the mill each week than he learned at school in a term.

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