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west with Louisa and Francine when they were about ten and eleven.
    “He built a house beside the old Fort, made a garden spot and planted it. They built a deer fence with poles and in the hot days packed water for it. The first winter they had enough extra to trade. Many people in town depended on that family to have enough food to get them through the winter.
    “Louisa’s father got a wife from up north, and she came to live with them. She and the girls would go to the Catholic church, but he would never go. He said the Catholics and their god betrayed his people. Over and over. This is his people’s story.
    “His ancestors were from France. They came with the army to fight the British, three brothers in the same unit. They fought beside the native people, then they left the army and moved north by Three Rivers. They married native women and made their own village.
    “The part of the family that Louisa’s father belonged to worked in the fur trade and pretty soon came out west to Manitoba. They were fine horsemen, those Métis. They loved to hunt the buffalo.
    “They brought the church with them. They were all Catholics. They called the priests Father. They trusted the priests would represent them to God and to the government. But something went wrong, and by the time Louisa’s father was a young man, the buffalo were all gone, and the people were in hiding. Some lived with the tribes, and some, like Louisa’s family, lived in the settlements in the northern States. The men were afraid for their lives and for the safety of their families.
    “After some time Louisa’s father and mother decided to come back to Canada, but enemies found them and killed her mother and brothers. Louisa’s father just kept coming west till he felt he they were safe. He said he had a pardon, but it was a useless piece of paper. He never threw it away, though, because he showed it to me. He would only speak of it when he was drunk. Sober, he never told anyone anything.”
    Grandpère opened his eyes and looked at me.
    “Do you see, Anzel, everybody’s story is the same. It is like all the people were children once in their innocence, then they were taken over by empire builders. It doesn’t matter if it is an empire in heaven or an empire of land, each one needs people. When we give away our power, it’s not good. When you are following someone else’s vision, you can’t be your own person.”
    It’s a topic we agree on. My husband was Irish, and the same sort of story came down from his family. They were starving when they immigrated to Canada. Lorne’s family was scornful of those who wanted to get rich, calling them down for not knowing what enough was. Never in need of a handout, Lorne was proud that he could provide for us, letting me be a stay-at-home mother and buying us our forty acres in the woods. He is still providing for me on my pension; I get a widow’s benefit.
    “You know, there is something that I’m glad of,” I say. “We’re pretty free, you and I. We don’t have to go to work anywhere, we get plenty from the gardens and we live pretty well on what we get.”
    “Yeah, well, you just remember that taxes are coming up, so you better save a little for that.”
    He’s always reminding me to save up for bills, it’s a habit from living with Esther, his second wife, who would consistently spend more than they had. She loved bingo and gadgets, and she must have owned every electrical kitchen appliance known to mankind. She was never above phoning and asking for loans to cover the power bill or the car repair. I don’t think Grandpère ever knew how much we loaned her for keeps.
    But as he does more and more lately, he answers my thought. “I know you sent Esther money more than once. I want to thank you for that. She was kind of crazy for a long time.”
    “No need to thank me. You helped us too when we needed it.”
    “But Lorne repaid me every cent.”
    “And you’re repaying me for everything I