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   *                             "NEW TO LOVE"                              *
   *                               (part 11)                                *
   *                             by Vince Water                       10/03 *
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   | Copyright 2002-2006 by Vince Water                      Corrected 3/06 |
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      Running Water turns off the main street to enter an upscale residential
   neighborhood. The houses are two storied and large. Big lawns in front. He
   pulls to the curb and parks his truck. The engine is shut down. Why have we
   stopped here? I was expecting to be taken downtown to Mr. Talbert's office.

      "The lawyer is going to meet us here."

      "Oh." I squeeze Running Water's hand. All the tension that I'm feeling
   comes out as a sharp huff. "Thanks for being with me," I mutter. Another
   release of breath. The Indian reveals concern in his eyes, more than what
   I'll be facing this day. I sense hope in him for us to remain together as
   it was. "We will be."

      "You can know what I'm thinking because of Jesse?"

      "Not your thoughts. We have our own Connection so I'm able to sense some
   of what you're feeling." Running Water lowers his eyes. He pulls his hand
   from mine to get something from his shirt pocket.

      "I had your watch fixed. It only needed a new crystal."

      Running Water hands it to me. I remember him stepping on it in the motel
   room where it had fallen to the floor. Our fingers brush and from the way he
   looks at the watch, I glean something he's not telling me. It's turned in my
   hand until I'm looking at the back of it. There are no words inscribed there
   as I was expecting.

      "You know, don't you?" asks Running Water.

      I peer at him with a sly grin. "What did you write under the cover?"
   His eyes widen in surprise.

      "Uh. 'You'll always be in my heart. Your brother, R.W.'"

      I'm smiling. "That's nice of you." I catch something by the way he spoke
   those words like a kind of sad goodbye. "And you Are in mine." I stressed
   saying the word 'are' to let him know that how we feel for each other is not
   being left in the past.

      I put my watch on. The time is 8:52am and the date indicates that today
   is Monday, April 21st. Was Easter only yesterday? I lift my eyes and utter a
   silent prayer unto the Lord: 'Please guide me through the dark roads ahead.
   Thank you for providing me with good friends along the way. Amen.'

      Running Water gives me a knowing look. He too lifts his eyes and prays.
   I wait until he's done before taking his hand in mine. "I'm really needing
   a friend right now." I squeeze my fingers around his.

      "You already have a lover, Mike. Jesse will be a source of strength for
   you so..."

      Is he trying to push me away? I'm feeling stung. "Jesse is there for me,
   yes, but he's still young in his head. I sometimes need a man's guidance."
   My eyes flare. Does he hear what I'm trying to say?

      "Do you still want me or is that Jesse asking you to?"

      "Both of us." A nervous breath explodes out of my mouth. "You need to
   know something. My Connection with Jesse has changed. He no longer draws
   so much on my strength and experiences so he can grow up on his own.
   Grandfather asked him to do this. The danger of us being utterly together
   has passed but we have Others inside us." I'm feeling reluctant to explain
   who they are. I'm quickly adding, "We can Send our thoughts to each other."

      "Even now?" Running Water asks.

      I'm nodding. I cast my thoughts towards Jesse and Hear him Answering.
   What he's told me is given to Running Water. "One-white-horse is driving him
   to our grandfather's house. They're going to deliver the Power Bundle to the
   police after I've surrendered myself."

      "Does Jesse know what's being planned outside the jail?"

      My eyes become unfocused. No. Jesse doesn't know what his uncle is
   talking about. I'm shaking my head at Running Water. He tells me what's
   going to happen today.

      "Our shaman will summon the People to make a big show when surrendering
   this sacred belonging of ours."

      "A protest?" I remember seeing Blackfoot Indians on TV who were blocking
   the entrance to a mine. It was reported that heavy metals were leaching
   into the streams and rivers killing the salmon that they fish from.

      "Mike. We're going to let everyone know how mad we are at the police for
   what's happened. Jesse was assaulted by that undercover officer and
   Danielson was acting for his employer, Miss Thomas when he took Ron's diary
   from you and stormed out of Winna's house with his gun. By us rallying
   against those two bad men, we hope to protect you from mistreatment by the
   other police officers. Most of them are good men who don't know the truth of
   what's happened."

      "Have the People been told about Jesse and me?" My eyes flare.

      "No. That's not the issue. You have been adopted into our tribe and we're
   going to act to protect you, Short Hair. Elder Quiet-before-the-dawn says
   that this is also a good legal ploy. By putting pressure on the police and
   showing corruption in their ranks, they may let you go without a fight."

      Relief fills me. I'm smiling to hear Running Water calling me by my
   Indian name. We've been talking in English so I revert to Siksika when
   speaking my next words. "We go prepared for battle but keep hope alive in
   our hearts that a peace settlement may be struck with our enemies."

      Running Water solemnly nods. "Yes. That is so. But our worst enemy is the
   Trickster, Eli Kie. What he's done will be shown in the light of day and
   thus dispel his evil influence over the People. May he crawl back to the
   Darkness empty handed!"

      There's such anger in my brother's face. I'm nodding to his words, a
   little unsettled by his display of emotion. Running Water takes a deep
   breath. A smile is then given me. I'm tempted to lean over and kiss him
   but his eyes flare in warning. I look out the windshield. A well dressed
   man gets out of his car in front of us. He's carrying a satchel. Running
   Water nods his head to let me know that he's my lawyer.

      "Mike. The council has released you from your oath of silence concerning
   this matter but they ask that you use your best judgment by revealing only
   what you must to Mr. Talbert. He isn't one of us."

      "I understand." Running Water rushes out of the pickup truck to greet
   him. He waves to attract the man's attention. Mr. Talbert turns, our eyes
   meet and relief fills me. He's white so I'm confident that he'll know how
   to play this most dangerous legal game that I'm facing. I stride forward
   while offering him my right hand. We shake.

      "Mike Yager?"

      "Yes."

      "I'm Ryan Talbert, your attorney."

      I nod my head in understanding. The man looks to be in his late forties.
   He has thinning brown hair with signs of balding at his scalp. No prize for
   a warrior if they were to meet in battle. I'm surprised to be thinking that.
   His voice sounded strong. Confident. He's well dressed as one expects of a
   lawyer. Tucked under his left arm is a satchel.

      The man studies me for a long moment. I glance at his pudgy face, my eyes
   dropping to his slightly expanded waistline. He's not fat, exactly. I'm
   surprised that I stand a full hand taller than him. That makes me feel a bit
   uncomfortable as he's obvious of stature in this community for being a
   lawyer and all. He addresses my companion at my side.

      "How ne tucka, Running Water."

      "I'm fine, thank you. This young man can use your help."

      I'm amused that Mr. Talbert spoke an Indian greeting to my brother. His
   white accent was obvious. A kind of dead sound from his mouth without the
   proper exhale of breath, vowel stressing and, well, lacking earnestness.
   I'm probably being too hard on him. He is going to be helping me.

      Mr. Talbert walks towards the town house. We follow him to the door while
   a sense of dread comes to me. I'm a step closer to going to jail. I hope
   that our talk will be a long one.

      "He's a good lawyer," whispers Running Water in Siksika. "Helped me out
   of trouble a few years back."

      I turn to my brother and ask what that was in a low voice. He reveals
   shame. When I don't think he's going to answer me, he does when Mr. Talbert
   is fumbling with his key in the lock.

      "I'd been under the influence and stopped for speeding. Mr. Talbert
   arranged for me to only perform some community work."

      I'm glad that Running Water didn't spend time in jail. I recall him
   driving me to his cousin's house after belting down those stiff drinks at
   the bar. He was lucky that we weren't stopped.

      We enter the house. Mr. Talbert turns to a wall panel beside the door and
   deactivates a blinking alarm. My eyes take in the magnificence of his home.
   I'm impressed by the fine wood paneling, Persian carpets over the floors and
   rich furnishings throughout. The walls are covered in paintings of obvious
   Native American origin: scenes of mountains, rolling prairies, a sunrise
   over a lake and Dancers in the dust (at a powwow). I recognize their style
   of artistry through my Connection with Jesse. That latter painting was
   gifted this man from his grandmother. A similar one hangs in grandfather's
   bedroom where we'd been sleeping after our Passing Rite.

      A huge statue in the front room draws my attention. I circle around it
   in awe. It's of an Indian rider whose horse has butted into a buffalo,
   sending the brave flying in the air. I think I've seen this one before but
   it was much smaller.

      "Nice. Isn't it? A Remington reproduction though it's larger size cost
   me a quarter of what an original casting goes for."

      I'm nodding to Mr. Talbert while my eyes study every detail. Remington
   has wonderfully captured motion in bronze: the horse's frightened collision
   with the angry buffalo bull that sends its riding flying through the air. I
   see the startled expression on the brave's face yet he's still grasping his
   spear. I look down at the Indian's butt to check it out. It's partially
   revealed from the side of his breechclout. A nice bronze shape that I've
   seen fully exposed by Jesse, Running Water and Hawk Flying Over. Indians do
   have nice butts.

      Mr. Talbert lingers a moment before returning to the entry hall. He asks
   Running Water if he would like something to drink like coffee. The offer is
   politely declined.

      "Anything for you, Mike?"

      "No. Thank you." My stomach is hurting me to much. Mr. Talbert takes me
   on a brief tour of other Indian artwork that he owns. Lots of paintings. My
   eyes light up when he shows me an authentic Blackfoot bow and a quiver
   filled with four arrows in a frilled bow case. It's kept in a secured glass
   display. A plaque gives the specifics including the date when it was
   thought to have been crafted - 1870.

      "That is a museum piece!" I remark. "It's very nice."

      "Now you can see why I have the alarm," Mr. Talbert remarks while
   pointing back towards the front door.

      I'd noticed. I'm led down the hall and give Running Water a back glance
   that must have revealed my uneasiness. He gestures that everything will be
   alright. He'll be waiting for me out here.

      A door to our left is opened. Mr. Talbert goes in with me following. He
   flips a light switch. It's a small study. Nearly every wall is covered in
   book cases up to the ceiling. There's a desk that the man goes to sit at.
   It's cluttered with stuff. A gesture is given me to sit in the chair before
   it. I have to set a pile of folders and books on the floor before doing so.

      "Sorry about that. I don't usually see clients at home. The Elder
   thought it would be best for us to meet here."

      "I wondered why Running Water didn't take me to your office."

      "Ah, yes. We need to go over some things without being intruded upon.
   Mike. You're facing some serious charges in that the Havre Police have been
   very aggressive in trying to hunt you down. I've not seen them so rowled up.
   You'd think they were searching for a serial killer."

      My face turns pale.

      "Sorry about that. The police chief had called me this morning to ask if
   I were going to be representing you. I've denied involvement so they won't
   be keeping too close an eye on me. It's rather unsettling. I suspect that
   there's an interest in you that goes beyond the Havre Police Department.

      The tiny hairs lift at the back of my neck. I suspect that comes from
   Eli Kie. How much influence does that man have in the community?

      "The Elder has already filled me in on what's happened. I want to clear
   up a few things in my head so that I can prepare some affidavits for you,
   Mr. Augusten and Mr. Looks-from-mountain to sign. I'll present them to the
   district attorney tomorrow."

      "Who's Mr. Looks-from-mountain?"

      "That's Mrs. Winnapah's son, Jesse. I'm surprised that he wasn't charged
   with anything. That could change as things develop."

      Now my stomach is really hurting me. I'm worried for Jesse! He's going
   to be standing out in front of the police station where they can find him.
   I Send out my plea. :Jes-ee-ah? The lawyer said that the police might be
   looking for you so maybe you shouldn't join the protest.:

      :Don't worry, Mike. I'm going to be with a large group of my People so
   they wouldn't dare! Not if they want to risk a riot.:

      I'm still worried. :Just be careful. I don't want them taking you to jail
   too! Uh. I didn't know that your last name was Looks-from-mountain.:

      :That's my father's name. I haven't been called that since... he left us.
   Everyone calls me now by my first name.:

      :Oh.: I'm drawing on Christopher's memories to understand this. Indian
   children are formally referred to as 'son of...' or 'daughter of...' until
   they reach an adult age. It's a sign of respect to their father and provides
   a clear lineage to others when they're mentioned in council or at other
   formal occasions. Otherwise, the child is simply called by his birth name or
   a nickname given them by friends.

      "Mike?" asks Mr. Talbert again to get his client's attention.

      "Yes? Oh. I was thinking about something."

      :Mike. Don't tell him about our Connection, Ron's ghost or reveal
   anything about the Power Bundle. That would only confuse him. He acts for
   our tribe in legal matters but he's not a member of the Blackfoot.:

      :I understand.:

      "... sign some documents and then we'll talk."

      Mr. Talbert hands me a folder and a pen with an odd look in his eyes. He
   speaks to me in a very formal voice. Is he angry or something?

      "There's a Declaration in there stating that you accept being a member
   of the Blackfoot Nation. The next document is your acknowledgement that I'm
   acting as your attorney."

      I quickly scan through the three paged Declaration. Something catches my
   eye. "This says that I'm to be given an income?"

      "Yes. The U.S. Government had purchased what is today Glacier Park from
   the Blackfoot in 1895. Per that treaty, all tribesmen receive a stipend. It
   doesn't amount to much. Their main income comes from oil and gas reserves
   found on the land they didn't lose to the government."

      I barely glance at the second page and pen my signature at the bottom of
   the third that lists two names for me. I'm smiling to see 'Short Hair'. I
   sign using that Indian name where the line indicates beneath my Christian
   name. The next document is brief. It basically says that I acknowledge Mr.
   Talbert as my attorney and his fee will be paid by the Blackfoot Nation. I'm
   signing this with some guilt. I should be paying this lawyer myself. I close
   the folder and return it to Mr. Talbert.

      "Alright. That's done."

      I'm now a legal member of the Blackfoot Tribe. Mr. Talbert doesn't seem
   that happy about it. He peers over a yellow pad while I prepare for his
   questions, keeping Jesse's warning in mind.

      "When Lieutenant Danielson confronted you on Wednesday, April 16th in
   your trailer, did he place you under arrest?"

      "No. He just said that I should get dressed because he was going to take
   me downtown for questioning."

      "Did he say what for?"

      "No. I assumed it was to explain why I'd taken Running Water's drum and
   Ron's diary from my park manager. Like it was theft or something. Danielson
   had asked me if I knew what was written in the diary. I told him no and he
   accused me of lying. He's working for a collector of Native American art
   named Miss Thomas and acting in her interest to find out if I knew anything
   about her from reading Ron's diary. That officer wasn't really going to take
   me to the police station but get me somewhere alone to question me. Maybe
   kill me like what had happened to Ron Earlman. I felt that in him!"

      "So you were in fear of your life from Lieutenant Danielson?"

      "Yes. Has the Elder told you about Miss Thomas?" I'm worried that talking
   about Ron might lead to some difficult questions that I can't answer.

      "He has. Do you know if there's a connection between Ron's murder and
   Lieutenant Danielson's interest in getting his diary from you?"

      I'm feeling very uncomfortable. "Only suspicions."

      "Anything in Ron's diary about him fearing Miss Thomas or Danielson?"

      "Nothing like that. He'd met with Miss Thomas at least twice where she
   informed him about other collectors who had illegal Native American objects.
   She'd done that so Ron wouldn't turn her in for an eagle feathered
   ceremonial robe he discovered in her collection. I haven't translated
   everything that Ron wrote in his diary. It's in German and the latter
   entries have coded abbreviations I haven't been able to figure out yet."

      "Alright. Why didn't you leave with Lieutenant Danielson?"

      "He just ran out of my trailer."

      "Why did he do that?"

      I release my held breath. "Something he saw in my bedroom scared him."

      "Who was in there?" asks Mr. Talbert.

      "No one. I went into my bedroom and saw no one." Mr. Talbert gives me a
   skeptical look. He thinks I'm lying so I'll tell him what I saw. "My chest
   of drawers was laying on its side with each drawers stacked on top of the
   other in an impossible balancing act. They crashed down when I approached."

      "That's what frightened the officer?"

      I nod my head.

      "He just ran out of your trailer."

      I nod again.

      "So at no time did Lieutenant Danielson formally place you under arrest,
   handcuff you or read you your rights. Is that correct?"

      "Yeah. He had what he came for. Ron's diary. What he didn't know was that
   I'd made a zerox copy which was hidden in my chest of drawers." I don't
   mention that Ron's ghost had acted to protect that copy of his diary, and
   scaring away that policeman may have saved my life.

      "Okay. At Mrs. Winnapah's house, tell me what happened there when you
   encountered Lieutenant Danielson."

      I give an account of that officer storming out of the house with his gun
   drawn on Jesse who was running towards the street, how I tripped him and
   struck him into unconsciousness. The lawyer listens with a graven face. He
   holds up a folded piece of paper for me to see.

      "You found this in Danielson's pocket?"

      "Yes. It has Jesse's name and address written on it."

      "The Elder said that your park manager, a Mr. Cavallero, ah... he may
   have tipped off Danielson to what you took from him and may have given
   that officer Jesse's address to find you."

      "It might have been him. But I believe that Eli Kie could have tipped off
   Danielson either before or after we escaped him outside my trailer. That's
   why he was waiting for us in Winna's house and came out running with his gun
   drawn. Wasn't that illegal for him being in there?"

      "That depends. The officer could claim just cause for being in the house
   if he knew you were hiding in there after escaping his earlier arrest and he
   was acting to recover you from evading Eli Kie's arrest."

      "Eli Kie's story about arresting me at my trailer and being struck from
   behind by an 'unknown Native American' assailant is a lie! He beat Jesse
   up to try getting our Power Bundle that we found hidden in Ron's trailer.
   Eli Kie had killed him because of it!"

      "Do you have evidence of this?"

      My eyes widen in horror. I shouldn't have said that.

      "Mike. The Elder has told me that he knows Eli Kie murdered Ron. Did you
   tell him that, and if so, how do you know?"

      In a small voice. "I'm under oath not to speak about it."

      "Hmm. It would help your defense for me to know how you know because much
   of your justification for evading arrest and attacking Lieutenant Danielson
   will come from you being in fear of your life by those corrupt men. Their
   actions are questionable. Eli Kie claims that the Power Bundle is his
   property and though it was unwise for him to confront you and Jesse
   personally, he could be justified in what he did outside your trailer. Your
   neighbor, Mr. Augusten has given a statement to the police. I hope that
   there's something in it that will contradict Eli Kie's account."

      I'm becoming concerned by having this man as my lawyer. He's dismissing
   out of hand all the bad things those policemen did like it was legal for
   Eli Kie to beat my lover up and point his gun at me and okay for Danielson
   to be waiting in Winna's house to ambush us. I give the man a sour look.

      "Mike. You have to understand how things work in court. A group of people
   who sit in the jury box won't know you or anything about what's happened.
   They will only consider the evidence presented to them. Anything that I'll
   say in your defense such as what Danielson did can be explained away when
   that officer takes the stand. He'd have had time to review his actions and
   'correct' them with help from his legal advisor. I need to know more than
   you seem willing to tell me."

      I'm squirming in my seat. Mouth shut.

      "I have to tell you Mike that it's going to be hard defending you against
   these charges. The two police officers have signed statements. Even if
   they're false, we don't have much to counter them except for allegations of
   misconduct, suspicions and innuendo about them having acted for personal
   interests and that of Miss Thomas which is as yet unproven. They need only
   to stick to their stories while we have to come up with evidence to prove
   that they are false. Can't you tell me anything I can use to help you?"

      I'm slowly shaking my head. An idea comes to me though. "Why don't you
   investigate them? Everyone knows that Lieutenant Danielson works for Miss
   Thomas, helping her find illegal Native American artifacts and keep what she
   already has. Eli Kie was trying to get that Power Bundle for himself no
   mater what. My trailer was torn up in his hope of finding it there. He
   murdered Ron, beat up Jesse and threatened to shoot me. There has to be
   some evidence of his wrong doing."

      "I'll be doing research on those two police officers through the public
   record. Eli Kie is not a Havre Police Officer. I don't know which district
   he comes from."

      "No. I mean that you should hire a private investigator. That's how we
   can find out what they were up to, prove a connection between Danielson and
   Miss Thomas and find something to get them on."

      "I'm concentrating on your defense, Mike. Besides. A private investigator
   is costly and usually only generates inadmissible evidence though useful in
   gaining leads and understanding why they acted as they did. I'll have to get
   the Elder's permission for such an expenditure."

      "How much would a private investigator cost?"

      "Hmm. To check out Miss Thomas, Danielson and Eli Kie... I would think
   that a ten thousand dollar retainer would be required. That amount could
   easily double if other people come to light who need investigating."

      "Okay. I pay that right now." To the lawyer's surprise, I pull out my
   wallet and unfold a blank check that I keep in there. "Do I make the amount
   out to you?"

      Mr. Talbert nods.

      I'm writing the check out for $10,000. It's handed over to Mr. Talbert
   who studies it a moment before tucking it in his vest pocket. I have all
   that money in the bank that isn't going to do anything for me when I'm in
   jail. Might as well put some of it to use. Just wait 'till those police
   officers discover that someone's snooping on them! Rockford Files and
   Magnum P.I. comes to mind. I've seen them break open cases when the police
   failed to. I know those were only TV shows I'd watched as a kid but I want
   Danielson and Eli Kie to get worried, maybe cause them to do something
   stupid. A stab of fear goes through me. That's what Ron did when he tried
   reaching for Eli Kie's gun. That foolishness got himself killed.

      "I'll hire an investigator right away. No promises, Mike. You won't get
   any return of this money and nothing useful may be discovered."

      "I understand. You need to warn the investigator that Eli Kie is very
   dangerous and tricky. He's murdered before. He serves someone powerful."
   That gets the lawyer's attention.

      "Who? Someone in government?"

      "That's what I'm trying to find out. Just tell him to be careful." The
   man sets his pad down on the desk.

      "Tell me about yourself, Mike."

      "Well. I've never been in trouble before if that's what you're asking."
   The lawyer nods.

      "The Elder said that you're from Indiana. What's brought you here?"

      "I'm on vacation from my job. I code educational programs for kids."

      "How did you get involved with the Blackfoot Indians?"

      I glare at Mr. Talbert. Doesn't he know about Jesse and I or has the
   Elder kept that from him? I'm not going to say anything. He doesn't need to
   know about us.

      "I'm asking because you're obviously not Native American. I wondered why
   Elder Quiet-before-the-dawn and Shaman He-who-runs-up-mountains have asked
   me to represent you. I've helped many of their tribesmen when they've gotten
   into trouble including Running Water when he was charged with a D.U.I."

      So that's it. Mr. Talbert thinks I'm an Outsider who doesn't deserve help
   from the Indians. I sense something else in him. An ideal of noble service
   to them without really understanding and respecting them as a People. I'm
   taken from my thoughts when the lawyer is saying something.

      "... Declaration document you signed had come as a surprise to me because
   I've not heard of you before yesterday, no announcement at the meeting or
   confirmation of you having passed an initiation rite. It took three months
   before Ron Earlman's confirmation into the Blackfoot. Yours took only a few
   days. Why is that?"

      I'm enduring this man's stare. Anger fills me because it's not right of
   him to sit in judgment of me. He helps the Blackfoot with their legal paper
   shuffling and getting members out of trouble with the police but it's not up
   to him who they want to adopt into the tribe.

      "I'd really like to understand what's going on, Mike, so that I can help
   you," Mr. Talbert complains. "I've taken an early retirement for health
   reasons but continue my practice in service of the Blackfoot. I'm frustrated
   that they don't tell me things..."

      I glare at this man while he's spilling his guts out to me. The real
   issue here is that he senses this distancing between the Blackfoot and
   himself. He wants to be worthy of their full trust. Maybe even be adopted
   into their tribe because of his good work. He's still ranting.

      "...so I want to understand, Mike. You're important to them but I can't
   properly defend you without knowing why."

      He means why me and not him. His demand to know gets me angry. I blurt
   out, "My former self was adopted into the Blackfoot before you were born!"

      "What?"

      A part of me regrets having said that but I'm burning mad. I revert into
   Siksika when saying, "You must use your heart instead of your head if you're
   to understand my People. Our ways differ from the white people. You think
   you know us. I've seen the Native American artwork you've collected and in
   false pride, put on display in your home as if you are one of them. How can
   you understand? We respect the unseen spirits that help guide our lives.
   Darkness is trying to fall over the People that we're fighting against.
   You've helped some of us when caught up in your laws that have rarely
   protected us in equal measure. I need your help now. Not only for myself but
   my People. Do this for us, not to satisfy your own vanity!"

      Mr. Talbert stares at me with his mouth hanging open. I don't think he
   knows much Siksika but heard how well I've spoken it. That was Christopher
   speaking though me. He'd seen the horrors of war brought onto his tribe by
   the U.S. Army and there's much guilt in him for being the reason for that.
   I assure my former self that he was only the excuse for that conflict. The
   United States Government intended to take away the Blackfoot's land and
   move them onto reservations in their attempt to extinguish their ways of
   life whether he was amongst them or not. He was not to blame. 'You weren't,
   Christopher!'

      I've been taking deep breaths to calm myself. Mr. Talbert has recovered
   some, his mouth closes and he leans back into his chair.

      "You can speak Siksika fluently?"

      I nod my head. "Mr. Talbert. You are caught up in something that is more
   than those charges against me. A terrible evil that you cannot imagine or
   even believe in is trying to cover the People in Darkness. Eli Kie is but a
   servant of that evil. He wants our tribe's Sacred Bundle to turn its power
   towards evil. Jesse and I have thwarted him. He'd acted from a position of
   authority to try obtaining it and failing that, acts now to bring trouble
   down on our heads. We need your help to stop him from that. We've told you
   all that we can concerning the legal battle ahead of us. Anything more would
   only serve to confuse you. I see the disbelief in your eyes and regret
   telling you what I have."

      Mr. Talbert lowers his eyes. He seems to have difficulty with breathing
   that reminds me about what he's said about taking an early retirement due to
   health reasons. Is he having a heart attack? "Are you alright?" I ask.

      "Yes. Just give me a moment to collect my thoughts."

      "Listen to what's inside you (while touching the left side of my chest)
   will serve you better in this matter. I know that you want to do good for
   the People through your skills as a lawyer. And you have. As a human being,
   if you really want to understand them, look into your heart. Their ways are
   ancient, sacred and in harmony with the land. That brings peace, happiness
   and fulfillment for all but Darkness tries to put an end to all life. That
   is the struggle before us now. Please help me so that I in turn can help
   Jes-ee-ah and his People walk in the Light."

      What I've just said came mostly from me. I hope to be worthy of the
   People as Christopher tried.

      "Please excuse me, Mike. I need to get something to drink. Uh. Do you
   want anything?"

      "No thank you." I watch the man stagger from his chair and nearly run
   out of the room. He's going to ask Running Water about me. What I've said.
   I know this somehow.

      I'm turning in my seat to look around the room. Lots of old books sitting
   on the shelves that look like they haven't been touched in years. The stack
   of folders at my feet are yellowed. I look at the desk and see more of the
   same. This man's practice has fallen into disuse. Seems sad somehow, that.

      After a long while, I start worrying about Mr. Talbert's absence. Is he
   alright? I'm about to go check on him when the man enters the room with
   something in his hands. A rolled parchment. He plops down in his chair with
   a weary sigh.

      "Mike. Can you look at this for me?"

      Mr. Talbert unrolls the long piece of paper that has yellowed with age.
   I give him a questioning look before gazing over the cursive lettering.
   "You want me to read this?"

      "Out loud," the lawyer asks.

      I shrug my shoulders in reply. Okay. I'll read it but I'm unsure why he
   wants me to. "In the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and ninety two, these
   words were spoken by Chief Gazes-up-at-the-mountain of the Blackfeet Tribe."
   That's not right. The Siksika don't refer to themselves in the plural and I
   tell Mr. Talbert so. He asks me to continue. What follows appears to be a
   literal transcription of what that chief said in Siksika. Not in the written
   form it has taken today but in an English rendered pronunciation for his
   spoken words. I'm mouthing the syllables to myself. It's very difficult to
   comprehend as not all the sounds are correct, no stressing given and that
   chief had been speaking in old Siksika. I look up at Mr. Talbert asking,
   "Do you want me to read it literally or translate it for you?"

      "An English rendering. If you can, please."

      I go over the first lengthy sentence a few times to glean what the
   Siksika words likely are before attempting a translation. I suspect the
   reason Mr. Talbert wants me to do this for him but I'll play along. "Okay.
   This is what I think that chief said. 'There is one place known on the land
   we hold holy where three streams of water split from a mountain source and
   flow in the direction a smoking pipe of offered prayers unto our Father
   that is towards the great Mountains, towards the Great Water then towards
   the Great Forests.'" I translate the next sentence after studying it.

      "To every Sacred Place are its Guardians, and it has fallen to the lot of
   the Siksika, further behind our grandfather's fathers who held in tradition
   to faithfully guard this most Sacred Place, and our Watch ever goes on."

      I glance at Mr. Talbert who has his eyes closed. After sensing my long
   hesitation, the man raises his right hand in a gesture for me to continue.
   My eyes return to the parchment. Hmm. The next sentence is very difficult.
   Not all the words spoken by that chief seem to have been copied down. I
   utter the translation, pausing when a word or words seem to be missing.
   "From father to son held in... honored position as our Inspired Ones...
   safe keep in their hands the knowledge that our ancestors... ruled by ..."
   The tiny hairs lift at the back of my neck. "I think the chief is referring
   to our Father, ah... God but His name wasn't written down." The lawyer
   nods, gesturing for me to continue. I struggle with uttering a translation
   without reading ahead first.

      "...who came down from the Sun on the Mountain of the Three Waters. Our
   grandfather's grandfathers were called in that long ago moon, Blessed
   Children of the Sun." I continue with the next sentence, another long
   series of Siksika sound representations that takes a lot of concentration
   and delving inside me for Christopher's help to make sense of it.

      "All was happiness, peace, and every such thing provided to make our
   lives easier. As the stream that flows towards the great Mountains of which
   the Great Unknown is in all places, and the stream that flows towards the
   Great Water of where our thoughts dwell, and the stream that flows towards
   the Great Forests where we ourselves dwell, so did the People live as One by
   heeding to His teachings." I'm sensing a truer meaning behind the chief's
   elegantly spoken words.

      "Mike. Your translation is wonderful but tell me... What was that chief
   really saying in that last part?"

      He knows! I'm wondering if I should tell him like it could be a secret
   the Blackfoot want to keep to themselves but Christopher urges me to do so.
   He's heard of what Chief Gazes-up-at-the-mountain speaks of from a similar
   teaching rite given to the children of his tribe by their shaman. I read
   through the old Siksika words a few more times, translating them and then
   speak from my heart that purifies the true meaning like fire does to
   everything it consumes. "The Great Unknown in all places is where our
   spiritual selves dwell. The place of Great Waters represents our thoughts.
   The place of Great Forests represents the land where we live. What that
   chief didn't say or perhaps his words weren't written down was that the
   place of the Great Deserts represents our hearts. Four compass directions we
   know as north, west, east and south are likened to the four places of a
   human being. Four is a sacred number to the Blackfoot. What that chief was
   saying is that by recognizing these sacred places within ourselves and from
   without, the People were as One when heeding to His teachings."

      I look up at Mr. Talbert. His eyes are still closed but what a look on
   his face! I remain silent. There is much more written on this parchment but
   I'm not up to translating it all right now. They are holy words. Christopher
   can reveal what that aged shaman of his tribe had said to me later. I really
   need to get this lawyer back to the concerns facing me today.

      In a mere whisper, "Short Hair. When you have time... afterwards, will
   you read more for me? Your rendering is true where as what I've read from
   Sunrise Hart's translation of that chief's words are flawed and incomplete."

      I skim over the parchment and don't speak for a while.

      "If you are willing, that is."

      Mr. Talbert peers at me with such longing in his eyes. "Okay. I'll do it
   for you. Sunrise Hart must have done his best with what was written down so
   his translation is not at fault. Whoever transcribed the chief's words was."
   I see regret in the man's eyes so I add, "Our shaman spoke of the Sun Father
   to the children of our tribe long ago. I still have his words in my heart
   and can give them to you." The man breathes in sharply.

      "You really were reborn from the Indians of old."

      "No. I was a white youth who was taken from Fort Union by his brave
   lover to live with the Blackfoot." My mouth shuts. Shouldn't have said that!
   Mr. Talbert sits up straight in his chair. His outstretching hand asks to be
   returned the aged parchment. I do so with eyes that won't look at him.

      "What was your former self's name?"

      I'm shaking my head with much regret in me. "Christopher," I blurt out.

      Mr. Talbert sets the rolled parchment down on his desk. He looks over his
   yellow pad.

      "Ah, Mike. Is there anything else that those policemen did that I should
   know about?"

      I'm relieved that Mr. Talbert isn't asking me anything more about my
   former self. He already knows too much. Hmm. Those policemen, he asked. What
   else did they do to Jesse and me? Ah. I remember something that happened on
   the morning after our Passing Rite.

      "On Easter Sunday, five Havre policemen entered grandfather's, ah. I mean
   Shaman He-who-runs-up-mountains' house to look for me. Mrs. Winnapah was
   told that they had a warrant for my arrest. Her son hid in a closet while
   they searched. They didn't find him. Grandfather... ah, he had taken me out
   the back way where we hid in some trees. Was that legal for the police to
   have barged in like that?"

      "I'll need to see their warrant. It's issued by a judge for policemen to
   search a particular location such as your trailer or Mrs. Winnapah's house
   where you were last known to be at. If the shaman's house is not mentioned
   in that warrant, their search was illegal unless they'd actually seen you go
   into that house or were told you were there. Do you know if Jesse's mother
   permitted their entry?"

      I close my eyes and Reach out for Jesse to Ask him. In only a few heart
   beats, I'm given the full account of what happened. I face Mr. Talbert.
   "One of the officers held the warrant to her face while the other four
   policemen rushed inside. She protested but was kept at the door to read the
   warrant that didn't make any sense to her. She was asked if I was inside.
   That policeman so frightened her that she couldn't answer him. After the
   house was searched, a policeman told Winna that if she sees me, I should
   turn myself in before anyone gets hurt. That sounded like a threat!"

      "Yes. It certainly does, Mike. When I'm at the police station today, I'll
   be getting copies of the officers' statements, Mr. Augusten's and ask for
   any warrants issued for Shaman He-who-runs-up-mountains' house. I don't
   recall seeing his residence listed in the arrest warrant issued for you.
   Do you think Mrs. Winnapah would be willing to sign a statement to the
   effect of what you've told me had happened between her and those officers?"

      I take a deep breath. "I don't know. She's concerned about her son
   getting mixed up in all this trouble I'm in. If you think her statement is
   important, have grandfather talk with her first."

      "Jesse is already mixed up in all this. I still don't know why they
   haven't secured a warrant for his arrest or bring him in for questioning.
   And I do think it's important to get a signed statement from Mrs. Winnapah.
   Those policemen had no right to scare her, their search of the house was
   likely illegal and by not finding you there, affirms this."

      "But Winna knew I was in the house."

      "The statement that I'd have her sign would focus on what those policemen
   said and did; nothing else needs to be mentioned." The lawyer winks.

      "Won't she be brought to court if she signs that statement on my behalf?
   Then everything will come out. She knew I was in the house so those officers
   would be justified in looking for me there."

      "Mike. Legal procedures must be observed. If we can prove they had acted
   illegally in their search, that strengthens our defense of you being in fear
   of your life from the police. Mrs. Winnapah can make a complaint against
   them too. As to her going to court, that's likely going to happen because
   if I were the prosecution, I'd call her as a witness. Jesse is her son.
   They obviously know it was him who was at your side during all of this. Ah.
   Do you know why he seems to have been ignored by the police?"

      I'm slowly nodding my head. "Eli Kie is calling the shots. By not
   involving Jesse and just going after me, he hoped the Blackfoot would
   abandon me. That hasn't happened."

      "No. They're standing behind you, Mike. I would like to speak with Jesse
   myself so that he can tell me what happened from his point of view. He was
   assaulted by Eli Kie and given a black eye, I believe?"

      I nod my head. A few deep breaths are taken to calm myself. "Jesse could
   have been shot by Danielson when he stormed out of Winna's house! That's why
   I tripped him and you know..."

      "That explains why you had acted in self defense and in defense of your
   friend. I'm getting a clearer picture of what's happened. I'll know more
   after today so don't worry. I didn't mean to have you think I didn't believe
   your account or that those officers were justified in what they did. All
   that needs to be proven through evidence such as by statements I'll have
   everyone sign. And if I can demonstrate the real intentions of Eli Kie and
   Danielson to the District Attorney tomorrow, that they'd acted in self
   interest and illegally so, he may throw out your case before it's tried. No
   promises. Okay?"

      "Okay." I'm sensing that we're done here. I'll be surrendering myself to
   the police. Man! My stomach is really hurting me now.

      "Mike. Don't speak to the police, other inmates or to anyone about your
   case. Not unless I'm with you and advise you to do so. We're not going to be
   making any statements at this time."

      "Shouldn't the police be told why I had to stop Danielson from shooting
   Jesse? Otherwise, they're going to remain mad at me when I'm in jail."

      Mr. Talbert shakes his head. "They won't dare harm you, Mike. Doing so
   would give you an 'out of jail' card by violating your civil rights. The
   policemen's job is to try getting you to say something incriminating that
   helps the prosecution's case against you. They aren't the ones we need to
   convince about your innocence so keep your mouth shut."

      "Alright. I will." I'm looking at my watch. It reads 10:47am. Nearly two
   hours have passed since I got here. I'd wish it were longer than that. "Ah.
   Do I have to surrender myself soon?"

      "I know you're scared, Mike. Shaman He-who-runs-up-mountains is planning
   on surrendering the Power Bundle that Eli Kie claims you stole from him at
   noon. I need to get you to the police station before then."

      My shoulders slump. Mr. Talbert nods with understanding then his eyes
   take on a sharpness that forewarns that he's going to be asking me something
   difficult.

      "Mike. Why are they surrendering that Power Bundle if it is so important
   to them? I'm not trying to second guess the Elder's reason for doing so but
   in his place, I'd force Eli Kie to come up with proof of ownership before
   simply handing it over to the police. That's also not the right venue. A
   civil court would decide who its real owner is."

      I'm racing to come up with an answer to give him. He can't be told that
   the bundle is now a dead thing. "Ah. They fear that Eli Kie would go after
   whoever has the Power Bundle in their possession. We've seen that he's
   willing to use force. Kill people. The police will keep it safe until this
   matter is resolved."

      "Eli Kie had been in possession of it?"

      I'm scolding myself for having told him that. "He'd stolen it from our
   tribe and Ron took it back, hiding the Power Bundle in his trailer until
   Jesse and I recovered it. Eli Kie couldn't find it himself. That's why he
   was lying in wait outside and attacked Jesse."

      "Is Eli Kie a Blackfoot?"

      I'm sadly nodding my head. "He was, but I don't know his current standing
   in the tribe because we know what he is and whom he serves. Evil."

      Mr. Talbert releases a sharp breath. "If that man is Native American, he
   can legally own such a thing in spite of the Blackfoot Nation not wanting
   him to. It's going to come down to who has proof of ownership. The shaman
   shouldn't surrender it to the police but wait until the court forces him to."

      In a small voice, "They're doing it because of me. The People will be
   rallied by this outrage for handing over a sacred belonging to Outsiders. A
   protest is planned to take place outside the police station. Jesse will be
   with them."

      "The Elder didn't tell me this. Mike? It's not wise for Jesse to be
   there. The police could grab him."

      "I know that. But if they try, it'll cause a riot and the police aren't
   that stupid. Are they?"

      "Hmm. Those two policemen had acted so but that was when they didn't
   think the others knew about it. A protest is a big gamble, Mike. It will
   bring public attention to what's happened to you but it could blow up in
   our faces if things get out of hand."

      "Their shaman will be with them. He is ever a man for peace and will keep
   the People in line."

      Mr. Talbert is shaking his head. "Much more is going on than I'm being
   made aware of."

      I glare at the man. "We all have our parts to play in this matter. Be as
   the warrior who follows his chief's command even though he doesn't know all
   the reasons behind it."

      "Okay, Short Hair."

      I'm smiling to hear him call me by my Indian name.

      "Let's get this thing done. It's going to be alright, Mike."

      I see Mr. Talbert take a cell phone out of his pocket. I'm resigned to my
   fate but part of me wants to take flight. He presses a button on the phone
   then holds it against his ear.

      "I'd like to speak with Captain Ruston. Tell him it's Mr. Talbert. Thank
   you. I'll hold."

      The lawyer gives me an assuring grin. Doesn't help much though. I'm
   feeling really scared.

      "Bill! How are you?" A pause. "I will be representing Mr. Yager in this
   matter." Another pause. "Yeah. This afternoon, say in forty minutes or so."

      I'm squirming in my seat. He's on first name basis with the police chief?
   Oh. I suppose that as a lawyer, he's represented lots of people who've been
   in trouble with the law.

      "Not at this time. Yeah. Okay... bye."

      I glare at Mr. Talbert. "What did he ask you?"

      "I've told him that we won't be making any statements. Mike. When you
   surrender yourself, they're not going to interrogate you. No need to have
   you go through that. If they should try, demand to have your attorney
   present and don't say anything to them. Alright?"

      "Yeah. When will they release me on bail?"

      "Your Arraignment Hearing should be held tomorrow morning. That's why I
   want to surrender you before noon. Otherwise, you'd be sitting in jail for
   another day."

      "How much will the bail be?" I'm hoping that I'll have enough money to
   cover that.

      "Hmm. I expect fifty thousand dollars or so. The Blackfoot Nation will
   post that for you."

      "Oh. When will my trial take place?"

      "That I don't know. Witnesses need to be interviewed, statements taken
   and they would wait until Lieutenant Danielson is well enough to leave the
   hospital so he can take the stand. At least a few weeks to a month."

      In a low voice, "If I'm found guilty, what would my prison term be?"

      "Don't worry about that now, Mike. You had good cause for defending
   Jesse from that officer. That's the most serious charge against you. The
   other charges like resisting arrest and theft will be countered. And at
   worst, we can plea bargain if things go south but I'm not considering that
   at this time. We're at the early stage in this case. I need to collect what
   evidence they have against you, prepare statements from witnesses on your
   behalf and try a ploy on the District Attorney tomorrow afternoon. They have
   two police officers engaged in questionable and illegal acts against Jesse
   and yourself. That has enraged the Blackfoot. They aren't without political
   might themselves. I'm going to show the D.A. how messy things are going to
   be if they pursue a case against you especially when corrupt officers are
   involved."

      "Yeah. Okay, I understand." Mr. Talbert grabs his satchel and gets up
   from his chair. We leave the room. Running Water looks up from where he's
   been sitting in the dining room with his worried eyes cast in my direction.

      "Are you going to be able to help Mike?"

      "I'll do my best," the attorney answers.

      I'm feeling the need to go to the bathroom. Mr. Talbert directs me to
   where it is. As I go down hall, I hear them whispering to each other.

      Upon returning, Running Water is getting off the phone. I'm going to
   my brother with pleading in my eyes that he'll come with us. He puts on a
   feigned grin. My eyes lower and see his right hand thrusting out to me. I
   hug him instead. His long arms come around me in a tight hug.

      "Mike. You're doing the right thing and it's going to be alright," he
   whispers in Siksika. "Go with Mr. Talbert. I'll be joining the protest
   outside the station when grandfather surrenders the Power Bundle."

      "I understand." We separate. My shy glance at Mr. Talbert doesn't reveal
   what he'd thought about our embrace. I'm pulling out my wallet and keys,
   remove my watch and hand them over to my brother. He's pocketing them with
   down cast eyes.

      "I'll need your I.D., Mike."

      Running Water removes it from my wallet and gives it to the lawyer. Our
   eyes meet for a moment. My brother looks so sad. We follow Mr. Talbert to
   the door. The man sets the house alarm and we go outside. It's gotten sunny.
   That doesn't help lift my spirits though.


      I'm feeling stunned. Mr. Talbert is driving me in his car but I don't pay
   much attention to our journey through town. Not until he slows down and
   we're joined by two police cars. I'm turning to my lawyer with alarm.

      "We're being given an escort by Chinook officers," he explains. "They're
   going to be at the protest to make sure that none of their people get out of
   hand. Running Water told me."

      "Oh." I see a police car in front of us and turn my head to see another
   behind us. They're not flashing their lights. Mr. Talbert speeds along the
   highway until we reach Havre. I've been looking out my window. Not really
   seeing anything but trying to get my mind off what's coming ahead.

      A thought strikes me. I break the silence by asking, "Is Officer Hawk-
   swooping-under with them?"

      "I don't know. He's been put on administrative leave for allowing you to
   leave the scene. That wasn't wise of him. I hope that Hawk-swooping-down
   won't be dismissed from service."

      "He was worried about Jesse," I explain. "Eli Kie assaulted him and
   wouldn't drop his gun even when my neighbor had his rifle pointed at him.
   He's a very dangerous man. We had to get away with the Power Bundle."

      "And now it's being given to the police," says Mr. Talbert, almost as if
   it were a question.

      I can't tell him that the bundle's spirit has been Passed making it a
   dead thing. Hawk-swooping-down did the right thing though it may cost him
   his job.

      "Mike. I'm going to use what that Chinook officer did in your defense.
   He ordered you to leave after Eli Kie's alleged arrest so that charge
   against you will be countered." In a low voice. "I'll ask him if he'll sign
   a statement on your behalf."

      I have mixed feelings about that. Hawk-swooping-down probably will since
   he's already in trouble for what he did in service of our tribe.

      "Mr. Augusten's statement to the police is critical to your case," says
   Mr. Talbert. "It depends on how much your neighbor saw. I hope it will
   justify Hawk-swooping-down's decision for allowing you to leave the scene."

      "Me too." I remember how Mr. Augusten had come to our rescue and he was
   willing to be left alone with Eli Kie (who still had his gun in hand) so
   that Jesse and I could get away. He could be facing charges for pointing
   his rifle at that undercover officer. Hopefully, he realized the trouble
   he's in and made a good statement to help us all out.

      "I'll be seeing you later this afternoon to have you sign statements and
   to check up on you. Mike. If you're accosted by any officers while in their
   custody, don't resist and remember their names. It's not likely but
   considering their bad feelings towards you, we may get a lucky break."

      "It almost sounds like you want them to beat me up!"

      "No. I'm sure nothing like that is going to happen. If anything bad does
   happen, demand to see your attorney and be sure to attract the attention of
   other officers so they'll come to your aid."

      I'm feeling very unsettled by what Mr. Talbert has said. He drives
   through the middle of Havre where I see a McDonald's. Too bad we couldn't
   stop there for lunch. I'm not feeling hungry; just not looking forward to
   going to jail.

      My heart skips a beat when the car comes to a stop in front of a brick
   building. I turn my head to look out the window. It's the Havre Police
   Station. I'm really feeling the urge to get out and run!

      "Be strong, Mike. Don't let them see your fear."

      I take a deep breath and release it. The Chinook police car in front of
   us has his yellow lights flashing. Mr. Talbert gets out of his car so I join
   him in on the curb. I'm half expecting policemen to run out of the station
   with their guns drawn. Nothing like that happens. There's no one around. We
   head for the stairs that lead up to the main door. Behind us, two uniformed
   Indians follow close behind.

      We reach the front door. A black policeman comes out, gives us a quick
   look then walks down the stairs. I turn to our escort. None of these men are
   Hawk-swooping-down. A tall Indian raises his right hand to me. He smiles.
   I return his greeting with the raising of my hand and thank him in Siksika.

      Mr. Talbert goes through the door. I take a deep breath and follow him
   inside. We're joined by the Chinook policemen as we head towards the
   counter. I'm taking a quick look around. A woman is sitting in a chair
   against the wall. She looks up a moment then returns to reading a magazine.
   A policeman behind the counter picks up a phone. His eyes glare at me.

      One of the Chinook officers whispers something to his companion. I've
   just caught what he'd said in Siksika. I turn sideways, smile, and answer,
   "My enemy had been caught surprised when he charged after Jes-ee-ah like an
   enraged buffalo bull." That draws startled looks from the Indians. Then they
   smile with toothy grins. They had wondered how a thin kid like me could have
   subdued Danielson outside Winna's house.

      "Mike. Shh," scolds Mr. Talbert.

      I remember him asking me to keep my mouth shut. Only these Indians and I
   could understand our exchange. They're on my side. The tall Chinook officer
   hand gestures that I go bravely to our enemies. I nod, hand gesturing that a
   storm is coming to frighten children into behaving well. They know what I'm
   referring to. Grandfather is that storm.

      "I am called Corn-stalk-at-harvest," says the tall Indian.

      That's a fitting name for him. His height is unusual for a Native
   American. If he wasn't a police officer, he could have tried out for a
   basketball team. The other Chinook Officer gives me his name: Dry-to-foot-
   in-grass. I don't know why he's called that. He's about my height, a bit
   plump and wears his hair in two long braids. Turquoise jewelry is in
   evidence from a necklace that he wears and rings on both hands. He's proud
   to be Indian. "I am called Short Hair." We all shake hands.

      Corn-stalk-at-harvest gives me a warning gesture. I turn towards the
   counter and see two Havre policemen approaching. Mr. Talbert greets the
   captain, handing him my Indiana Driver's license.

      "Mr. Yager?" asks Captain Ruston.

      "Yes?"

      "You're under arrest. Anything you say may be held against you in a court
   of law..."

      When he's done speaking, I answer that I understand my rights. The other
   Havre Police Officer, Weston (according to the name plate pinned to his
   uniform) asks me to lean against the counter with my hands spread over it.
   I endure the humiliation of being searched.

      To my surprise, I'm not handcuffed. The captain asks Officer Weston to
   process me. That man points down the hall with a stern look in his eyes. I
   start walking. I'm not looking back at my lawyer or the Chinook Officers in
   my attempt to act brave.

      "I'll see you later, Mike."

      I'm glad. By Mr. Talbert saying that, I hope the policemen won't do
   anything bad to me. I'm startled by a buzzing sound coming from the door.
   It's pushed open by Officer Weston and we pass through.

      During the next hour, I'm fingerprinted, photographed and strip searched.
   That was humiliating because they had me spread my cheeks to peer into my
   asshole with a flashlight. Yuk! I'm taken through a maze of hallways to the
   cell block. Some of the cells are empty. My shoes are asked to be removed
   and I do so.

      "Are you feeling suicidal?" asks Officer Weston.

      "No." He unlocks the cell door and gestures for me to get inside. It
   slams shut behind me. The officer takes my shoes and walks away.

      "What you in for?"

      I'm startled. There's a man laying over the bottom bunk who lowers a book
   he was reading. He's white, looks to be in his late thirties and wears a
   full beard. His eyes reveal only curiosity. He looks like a homeless person.
   "I can't talk about it," I'm muttering.

      "New to all this, huh kid?"

      I'm not up to talking so I climb to the top bunk and lay down. My socked
   feet dig into the folded blanket. There's no pillow. I could use the blanket
   as one but I'm not up to moving. My eyes close for an instant. They pop open
   when the man gets out of his bunk to use the toilet. I turn my head away to
   give him some privacy. Ugh! I'm not looking forward to when I have to go.

      I stare up at the ceiling. There's a jail cell being opened then closed
   down the hall. My stomach wrenches to hear that metal slamming sound. I'm
   trying to calm my breaths. There's movement to the bunk when my cellmate
   settles back into bed. I hear a page being turned. It's a strange mix of
   loud scary noises and quiet. I'm afraid, helpless to do anything so I lie
   still and endure this. It's only going to be for a day. I don't open myself
   to Jesse because I don't him to know what jail is like and me being scared.

      After a while, a strange sense of relief comes to me. I'm through the
   worst of what I imagined going to jail would be like. The policemen didn't
   hurt me. They acted professionally, only talking to me when I was directed
   to put my inked fingertips down over a card, how to turn in front of the
   camera and so forth. I'm trying to forget their examination of my butt.

      I try shutting my eyes again. They stay closed for a long moment but I'm
   unable to sleep so I return to staring at the ceiling. No thoughts enter my
   head. I'm feeling too stunned. Another page is turned in the man's book. I
   consider looking to see if they have other books to read in this cell but
   my legs refuse to budge.

      Footsteps are heard from outside our cell. I'm cringing inside. I don't
   look and to my relief, they pass by and fade into the distance. Calm returns
   to me. I'm trying to assure myself that no one's coming to get me.

      I'm feeling tired. My eyes close, then open when the bunk bed moves or if
   I hear an unexpected sound. The bed is feeling warm under me. A welcoming
   sensation that in any other situation would have me turning onto my side.
   I close my eyes again. A feeling of comfort comes over me as if I'm in
   Jesse's arms. I manage to fall asleep.


      I awaken with a start. My sleep filled head is slow to remember where I
   am until I see the cell bars. Oh. There's a brown bag at my feet. A munching
   sound is heard from my cellmate below making me realize that we've been fed
   lunch. I'm not really up to eating.

      I stare at the brown bag for a while. I'm feeling thirsty and wonder
   what jail food is like. Curiosity gets the better of me. I sit up in the
   bunk and reach for it. Opening the bag, I'm surprised to find a carton of
   milk. My mouth waters. Anything served with milk is going to taste good.
   There's what appears to be a sandwich inside with a bag of potato chips. I
   open the milk, take a sip then tear into the sandwich. It's bologna. Not
   the kind of food I was expecting to get here.

      My cellmate tosses his bag onto the floor near the locked door. I place
   the wrappings in my brown bag and do the same. A wry smile comes to my lips.
   The guards can clean up after us. I glance at my wrist for the time. That's
   when I remember giving Running Water my watch. Hmm. How long was I sleeping?

      "Hey. You up to talking, kid?"

      I peer down and see the man's head straining from his bunk. I'm shaking
   my head. Our eyes meet. I see a measure of understanding in his that makes
   me feel that this isn't his first time in jail. He returns to laying over
   his bed.

      "It's going to be alright. Maybe. You'll get out on bail then the real
   misery begins. Dealing with stupid lawyers, marshal visits to make sure you
   haven't skipped town and then going to court. I know. I've been through it."

      I'm about to ask him what he's done but keep my mouth shut.

      "Yeah. All this headache just to end up paying a fine and probation. Not
   really freedom because they'll check up on you to make sure you're being
   good. But it's on your record. That keeps you from getting a decent job so
   you have to steal to survive. Then the whole rigmarole begins again until
   you do end up in prison. I think that's where I'm headed."

      I stare up at the ceiling. As much as I want to ignore what he's been
   saying, I can't. Is that why he's in here? For stealing? I didn't see
   anything bad in his eyes. He seems resolved to his fate without a fight.
   The legal system may beat you down but that's no reason why you can't try.
   I'm going to be getting out of here! I didn't do anything wrong and I'll see
   to it that those two policemen find out what it's like to be in jail instead
   of putting people in them.

      The man has returned to reading his book. I hear pages being turned. Sure
   wish I had something to read because time goes so slow in here. I'm not
   tired enough to go back to sleep.

      I'm tempted to Reach out for Jesse. It would good Talking with him but
   I don't make the attempt. I'm surprised that he hasn't thought to me. Maybe
   he's too busy at the protest. How many Indians are outside with him, I
   wonder? They're here to voice their anger at losing the tribe's Power Bundle
   nt because of me. Jesse's black eye is going to make a lot of them mad.
   Shouts of 'police brutality' and such is probably being shouted. Do they
   have signs?

      I hope that their protest doesn't get out of hand. Grandfather is shaman
   so he doesn't want that. Those two Chinook Officers will also be keeping the
   peace. Corn-stalk-at-harvest can tower over any trouble makers and being an
   Indian himself, convince fellow tribesmen to behave. I remember what Officer
   Hawk-swooping-down had said at the meeting about the mine protest. He asked
   them not to block its entrance because he didn't want to have to arrest any
   of his own People. I think there are lots of Indians on the Chinook police
   force. Most of Jesse's family lives in Chinook. I wonder why Winna lives in
   Havre where there are mostly white folk? I've yet to see one Native American
   officer protecting their own in this town.

      For a long while, I think about what I'll be facing and fear the outcome.
   It will be humiliating to my parents if I end up going to prison. They don't
   even know that I'm in trouble. I'm not looking forward to calling them
   because I'll have to explain what's been going on with me in Havre. The
   hardest part being if I tell them that I'm gay.

      Approaching footsteps are heard coming down the hall. I've not been
   looking at who it is in fear that a policeman might be coming to get me out
   of anger for what I did to Danielson. Worse, it could be Eli Kie! No. He
   wouldn't be that stupid. I expect that it's a policeman on guard patrol.

      "Mike Yager?"

      I gasp in fright. "Yeah?" My voice wasn't more than a squeak.

      "Your attorney is here to see you."

      My feet lift from the folded blanket and I drop to the floor. It's
   Officer Weston. He's opening the cell door.

      "It begins," comments the man in the lower bunk.

      I know what he means from what he's said earlier. I'm surprised that Mr.
   Talbert is ready to see me. He'd said that wouldn't be until later this
   evening so he could get copies of the officer's statements and such. Maybe
   something has happened.

      Officer Weston points down the hall from where he's come from. No shoes
   are being provided. A sinking feeling comes to me. That means I'm not being
   released but I really wasn't expecting that until tomorrow.

      I'm not handcuffed. I always thought that prisoners were whenever they
   were taken from their cells. Maybe that's because this is only a police
   jail. I'm not complaining. The officer walks close behind me. He directs
   which turns to take down the maze of hallways until we come to a door. It's
   buzzed open. After a few more turns, I come to a door where Mr. Talbert is
   standing. Without a word, we go inside the room together. It has a table
   and two chairs.

      "How are you, Mike?"

      "Okay."

      "That's good. I've discovered some things that I want to tell you about."

      I look over my shoulder at the window. Officer Weston is seen standing
   just outside the door.

      "If we keep our voices low, he won't be able to hear. He's there in case,
   well, you know."

      "What did you find out?" I'm filled with hope. My lawyer removes several
   folders from his satchel. He ignores them for the moment to look over his
   yellow pad.

      "Okay. I've checked on Lieutenant Scott Danielson. He's in good standing
   with the Havre Police force for over sixteen years. Eli Kie serves with the
   Helena Police Department as an undercover officer. His records will be faxed
   to me tomorrow."

      My heart sinks.

      "That's the official account for Danielson but I wasn't expecting to
   find anything on him. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been kept on the force.
   After this incident, I expect that to change."

      I've caught Mr. Talbert's hint. He found something!

      "I asked the department for Danielson's daily logs that pertained to his
   'visit' with you. That's all it was because he made no entry about having
   arrested you, taking Ron's diary or anything. Officer Hawk-swooping-down had
   mentioned you saying that Danielson didn't call for back up when responding
   to hearing someone in your bedroom. That proves he was acting on his own
   interests. And I have learned something else from ah... a contact on the
   inside."

      Mr. Talbert's voice has become but a whisper. A Havre Policeman is
   telling him things on the sly?

      "When Danielson was hospitalized, they found some items on him. A zerox
   of German diary entries and the removable hard drive to a laptop computer.
   Mike. Could he have taken these things from Mrs. Winnapah's home?"

      "Yeah! My laptop bag was set in the hall close to the door. If he'd
   looked into it, my zerox of Ron's diary would have been recognized by him
   because he'd already taken the original from me. All my translations from
   German were on my laptop. That's why he took my hard drive!"

      "That would explain why Danielson stormed out the house," says Mr.
   Talbert. "Maybe he wasn't after you guys but trying to escape with his
   booty. There must be something dangerous written in Ron's diary about
   himself."

      I'm shaking my head. "Not about him but his employer, Miss Thomas. Ron
   had written that he discovered an illegal feathered ceremonial robe she had.
   After a bribe failed to deter Ron from turning her in, she offered to rat on
   other collectors who had illegal Native American objects in return for his
   silence. Ron wrote that he planned on turning her in later."

      "There wasn't anything written in Ron's diary about that officer?"

      "Nothing that I've translated so far. I haven't completed my work on his
   diary though."

      "The Elder told me that he also has a zerox of it. We should get all of
   Ron's entries translated."

      I'm squirming in my seat. If someone were to do that, they'd discover
   what Ron had been doing with Jesse and read that sick poem of his.
   Danielson may already know. He could threaten to make that public and
   humiliate Jesse, his mom, Running Water and ruin Ron's good name. It would
   cause a scandal in the tribe! I'm afraid that going after that policeman
   will hurt us more in the end. A thought occurs to me.

      "How does Danielson claim that I escaped arrest?"

      "I have his statement here." Mr. Talbert goes through the folders to find
   it. "Lieutenant Danielson said that he arrested you in connection to taking
   items from Mr. Cavallero that were found in Ron Earlman's trailer after his
   death. Those items are not specifically described except that they are
   important to the ongoing murder investigation. Danielson's statement says
   that you refused to hand them over."

      "I gave him the diary! How does he explain that I resisted arrest?"

      "That's the interesting part. Danielson heard someone in your bedroom.
   When he entered, a young man of Native American heritage was seen climbing
   out the window. He ran out of the trailer in pursuit. You escaped him at
   that time."

      "What a lie! Jesse was in school then. What scared him was Ron's ghost."
   Mr. Talbert stares at me. I lower my eyes and keep my mouth shut.

      "Mike. Don't mention that in court as that deters from your credibility.
   When that question is asked of you, say that you don't know why Lieutenant
   Danielson ran out of your trailer. You hadn't been placed on arrest and
   felt free to go."

      "Okay. What did Danielson say about him being in Winna's house?" The
   lawyer pulls out another page from the folder.

      "He states: 'On April 19, 2003 I received a call from Officer Eli Kie
   that Mike Yager had escaped from his custody outside suspect's trailer. A
   known associate of suspect lived close by and matched the description of the
   young Native American male I saw exiting suspect's bedroom window on April
   16, 2003. At approximately 9:15am, I arrived at 219 Winding Creek Road in
   Havre. Mike Yager was placed under arrest during which the Native American
   suspect was seen running from his house. I gave chase. Mike Yager struck me
   from behind."

      "Another lie! Danielson was waiting for us in Jesse's house. He took
   those things from my laptop bag while he was there. We approached the front
   door after running from my trailer park. I saw someone in the front window.
   The curtains were moving. It couldn't be Jesse's mom because we'd seen her
   leave for work that morning. I told Jesse to run. Danielson came charging
   out with his gun but he didn't see me. I tripped him. You know the rest."

      Mr. Talbert nods. "Mrs. Winnapah's home was searched in connection to the
   assault on Lieutenant Danielson. There's no mention of anything having been
   taken from that residence. I hope that your laptop is still there, Mike. We
   can get it examined for fingerprints. Danielson's may be found on it if he
   wasn't wearing gloves. A search for prints should be made in other places in
   the house like the front window to prove he'd been inside."

      "My laptop's hard drive and zerox of Ron's diary was found on him. That
   should prove he'd been there and a thief at that."

      "Danielson's statement neglects to mention where he arrested you, Mike.
   He could simply say in court that it took place inside the house and he took
   those items as evidence."

      "Yeah, okay. Do you have Eli Kie's statement?"

      "Yes." Mr. Talbert looks over his notes on the yellow pad. "It says that
   he arrested you outside your trailer, was struck from behind by an 'unknown
   Native American' assailant where a struggle ensued. He explains the dire
   situation he was in with you trying to rush him while subduing your
   companion. Eli Kie was further threatened by Mr. Augusten who had his rifle
   pointed at his head. He claims to have repeatedly identified himself to your
   neighbor as a police officer which were ignored. Officer Hawk-swooping-down
   arrived and to his dismay, let the two of you escape with what he was trying
   to reclaim from you - his Power Bundle. A separate document describes this
   artifact's particulars and includes photographs to prove ownership."

      My heart sinks. Eli Kie will manage to get it back. Then I remember that
   that's the plan. The bundle's spirit has already Passed out of it so
   grandfather's plan to surrender it prevents that evil man from hurting
   anyone else who might have kept it from him. Boy! Won't he be mad when
   finding that out when it's returned to him.

      "It's a good statement on Eli Kie's part," comments Mr. Talbert. "He even
   alludes to Officer Hawk-swooping-down being involved in a conspiracy with
   the Blackfoot Nation to steal the Power Bundle from him. That's a very
   serious charge."

      I'm worried for Hawk-swooping-down. He could lose his job on the police
   force and even go to jail! Mr. Talbert removes another document from his
   folder with much ceremony. A thick one. I see the sparkle in his eyes.

      "Then we have this deposition from Mr. Augusten."

      Mr. Talbert lips are curling into a smile and hope fills me.

      "Seems that your neighbor had been keeping an eye on your trailer. He'd
   come to visit you a few days before the incident and found your door was
   unlocked. That concerned him. He reported this to the trailer park manager.
   He saw Mr. Cavallero enter your trailer that evening and remove items such
   as a television set, vacuum cleaner and garbage bags filled with unknown
   items. When Mr. Augusten confronted the manager, the man claimed that you
   had abandoned your residence and that he was simply cleaning it out so that
   it could be rented. All your belongings were being put into storage."

      "Yeah, right! Did you know that Mr. Cavallero had kept Ron's stereo and
   Running Water's mechanic tools he'd left there? Only a drum was 'kept in
   storage' along with Ron's diary that he'd found hidden in the chest of
   drawers when cleaning out the trailer after that man's death. He'd forgotten
   about the diary until we both saw it stuck inside the drum."

      "Well. I'll get a list from you of your personal belongings to keep Mr.
   Cavallero honest about what he's 'storing' for you. Ah. Back to your
   neighbor's deposition. It's very long-winded. I suspect that Mr. Augusten
   had been tape recorded and his words transcribed to this text. Usually, the
   clerk just types up a terse account to be signed by the witness. A deposition
   this early in the case is unusual. Perhaps because your neighbor was
   directly involved in the incident, the police were hoping that old man would
   say something to get himself in trouble. He had pointed his rifle at an
   officer."

      I'm nodding. "What did he say about what happened to Jesse?"

      Mr. Talbert grins. "I can read it to you. 'I'd seen this suspicious
   character snooping around Mike's trailer that morning. He was a dark faced
   man that gave me the willies. I almost called the police right then. When
   I saw Mike and his In'ian friend go inside... Uhm. I'd seen them from my
   bedroom window. I got dressed with my intent to go over and tell him about
   it. I'm sure he'd also want to know who stole all of his stuff.

      "'That's when I saw Mike's In'ian friend get jumped outside the door by
   that man I'd seen snooping around. He punched the kid in the face. I heard
   the man shout something. I'd wanted to go help but my feet wouldn't budge.
   I was a mite scared, I admit. That's when I remembered my rifle and went to
   get it while having the Misses ring up the police.'"

      Both me and lawyer smile at each other. I gesture for him to continue.

      "It's a wonderful account, Mike. You can read it in its entirety another
   time but suffice it to say, Mr. Augusten had come to your defense. He didn't
   believe Eli Kie's claim of being a police officer because of what he'd
   witnessed. Did you know that his rifle wasn't even loaded? Your neighbor
   had put on a good bluff that showed his bravery against that armed officer."

      I'm sucking in air between my teeth. "I saw that myself. Mr. Augusten was
   going to let us get away but I was scared for him. He's an old man. I feared
   that Eli Kie would gun him down then come after us. We couldn't wait around
   because the Havre Police were coming. They'd take the Power Bundle from us
   and we feared Danielson might be with them. Luckily, Hawk-swooping-down
   arrived in the nick of time. I'd called him earlier to come to my trailer.
   He didn't want the police to get their hands on a sacred Blackfoot belonging
   and feared there could be other corrupt officers in the Havre Police
   Department. Jesse had been hurt. That's why he let us get out of there and
   now, he's in trouble because of it."

      "In light of Mr. Augusten's account, that's not going to happen. Eli Kie
   is himself in a lot of trouble. I've reported him to Internal Affairs in
   Helena. They'll conduct an investigation from their end."

      "What about Danielson? Have you reported him to the police here?"

      "Not yet. I'm going to need statements from you and Jesse first which
   I'll present to the D.A. tomorrow after your arraignment. I won't have them
   ready until then. It's my hope that the charges against you will be dropped
   but I don't know... You put an officer in the hospital. The D.A. will be
   under pressure to let this play out in court so he won't look bad for
   letting you off the hook so easily. I'm more sure of the outcome, Mike. You
   will be exonerated in the end."

      I'm relieved. Mr. Talbert gathers the folders and places them back in his
   satchel. He's leaving? I'm pounding my two socked feet together under the
   table out of nervousness. I don't look forward to going back to my cell.

      "Mike. I forgot to tell you. There's a big protest outside, more people
   than I had expected."

      "How many Indians?"

      Mr. Talbert smiles. "I think there's around fifty Blackfoot but after
   Jesse made his statement to the reporters, a lot of white folk joined them.
   Those in this town who sympathize with their cause."

      I'm smiling. I hadn't considered that. It's good that not only Indians
   are protesting outside but I hope the crowd doesn't get out of hand. I'm
   Reaching out for Jesse. That's when I notice how I've been keeping a
   barrier between us so as to not upset my lover to what jail is like.

      :Mike!:

      My eyes close to strengthen our Connection. :I'm here, Jesse. Sorry that
   I didn't Think to you before now...:

      :I understand, love. You should see how many people are protesting! And
   not just from our tribe. They heard about what happened to you and me on TV
   and came out to join our protest - white people. The police have set up
   barriers along the sidewalk and blocked the station's entrance.:

      I'm given an image in my head from Jesse. A large crowd is shouting in
   protest at the policemen who stand on the other side of the barriers.
   Nothing violent. Some hold up signs but they can't be read in the dark. It's
   night already?

      Mr. Talbert is saying something.

      "... see you tomorrow morning, Mike." He smiles assuringly.

      I watch the man push his chair against the table and head for the door.
   I'm quickly asking, "What time is it?" He glances at his wrist.

      "Nearly eight."

      I'm amazed. I must have been sleeping longer than I'd thought. The door
   is opened by Officer Weston. Mr. Talbert goes down the hall while I'm
   prevented from following him (to freedom!). I'm searched, likely to check if
   I'd been given a gun from my lawyer or something. Then I'm escorted back
   down the maze of hallways. I come to my cell, seeing that my bunkmate is
   asleep. The officer pushes me onwards. Where is he taking me? We're passed
   through two security doors, go down a long hall and stop before a white
   door. It's similar to the interview room's door but without a window. A
   click is heard. The door swings open slightly.

      "Go inside," the officer commands.

      He pulls on the door's edge and I enter. I'm looking around when the
   door is shut behind me. Another loud clicking sound. The locking mechanism,
   I suppose. I'm shocked to find that there's no bed! The floor is concrete. A
   stark metal toilet draws my attention because I'm in need. No toilet seat? I
   pull down my pants and sit over the cold bare metal.

      High above me, in the ceiling and in two adjacent walls are round glass
   plates. Warning signs by each announce that these are surveillance cameras.
   Great. Some guy is watching me taking a shit. I pull my shirt down over my
   knees and avoid looking up.

      The room is lit by florescent strips in the ceiling. After flushing the
   toilet, I pace out this small area that's only a third the size of my
   previous cell. What a hell hole. No furniture. No sink and no bed. I'm
   expected to sleep on the hard floor?!

      The air feels stuffy in here. Where's a ventilation vent? This small room
   makes me feel claustrophobic. It's like I'm a mouse trapped in a white box
   who's kept a close eye on by its keepers. This is really bad. Much worse
   than my last cell even though I had to share it with another prisoner.

      I go to sit in a corner left of the door. The wall is padded like you'd
   find in a lunatic's cell. How come they didn't put me in a straightjacket?
   I'm not smiling at my joke. A sense of gloom descends on me. My head rests
   against the joining walls and I feel tears running down my face. I really
   hate this place! I think solitary confinement is used for those prisoners
   who give the police trouble. I don't deserve this treatment! Anger builds in
   me until I remember what Mr. Talbert said about reporting Eli Kie to
   Internal Affairs in Helena. He's likely going to jail and not for only one
   night like me.

      Sobs come out of me. I'm feeling real bad, afraid and humiliated. My
   chest heaves while sharp breaths blow through my nose. Tears flow. I'm
   feeling so alone. I won't Call out to Jesse. He can't know how bad this is.

      "You're not so brave now, huh?"

      I'm startled by that voice. I look around the small room and realize
   there must be a speaker somewhere. Anger fills me. "How come I've been put
   in here? There were lots of empty jail cells..." I shut my mouth.

      "We like to keep an eye on monsters. No place for you to run and hide."

      "Go to hell!" I shout. There's laughing. I shut my eyes tight but they
   can't keep out the bright light. That voice no longer taunts me. My face
   presses into the padded wall where I find escape in darkness that matches
   what I'm feeling in my heart. The People hate me! I caused them soldiers to
   fall on them like crows in a cornfield. They died because of me! Owopspec
   shouldn't have protected me when they raised their hands to me in anger
   after the attack. They see me as a murdering white skin. Owopspec protected
   me, hiding me in this small cavern. My back grinds against the cold sharp
   stone. I want to die here. Alone.

      Part of me remembers that I'm in a padded cell but the other part... My
   other self joins me in this woe. We have each other. Almost. There's only a
   small barrier separating us that I allow to come down.

      My head fills with a torrent of memories. Flashes of things I have seen,
   done and experienced. Too quick to really See. Some of them are very sweet.
   I'm holding my brave lover in my arms like it's forever! Kisses. The joining
   of our bodies to express such deep love that it's almost a pain. I seize the
   moment. Live it.

      I breathe in the familiar odor of smoke. A smell of home. I'm smiling.
   Owopspec is eager to lay over my back but he prepares the way first so it
   won't hurt. My butt lifts from the ground mat so that he can tongue very
   deep in me. What a sensation! I yelp when he bites my left cheek in lust.
   His hot breaths are felt over my backside. Then he dives in again. Ahh! My
   hole relishes his wet tongue that's putting spit in me. I tighten it and
   that has my lover growling like a bear. A very hungry one. He's soon to
   relieve his hunger, I reckon.

      My head turns to rest over my crossed arms. I'm panting for breath. I
   look towards the tipi door to see if Breechclout-boy is peeking on us. He's
   often doing that when we make love early in the evening like this night. No.
   I don't see him. One of these days, he should come inside and join us. I'm
   not feeling upset about him anymore. He's Owopspec's previous lover. As much
   as they try not revealing that in front of me, I know. Their eyes on each
   other are a big giveaway. Boy, how that made me jealous! but I've been with
   that Indian youth in a way you could call love. We do lots of naked things
   together. Not what this man is about to do to me. Maybe that's why I live
   in Owopspec's tipi and not that boy. We are true lovers, him and me, like
   married folk but with us both being guys. Making Indian love is how we
   express our hearts to each other like a man does with his wife. We do each
   other. I'll get my butt filled then take my turn to sperm his.

      The man's weight comes to my back. I'm gasping for air. Owopspec digs
   his right hand into the dirt while his other hand... I prepare myself for
   the pain. A hardness presses against my hole. I'm relaxing my butt to fit
   him inside me. Ahh. The sensation of getting stuck into is like nothing you
   can ever imagine! My lover's groin runs up against my cheeks. I feel an
   uncomfortable fullness through my asshole. Not much pain. We've been doing
   this nearly every night after he rescued me from the steamboat. On every
   morning, I look upon Mr. Telson's scalp hanging from a stick outside our
   tipi that assures me that vile man is dead.

      Ahh... ahh... Ahh! This Indian is really pounding me. His long cock hits
   something deep in my butt that feels so intense! My cries join with
   Owopspec's low groans of pleasure. He loves doing me and I love him doing
   it to me. A wry smile comes to my lips. We've had to move our tipi away
   from the others so the neighbors won't hear our passion. Not that everyone
   doesn't already know about us. Owopspec said that he wanted to place his
   tipi closer to the river but I know better. Warrior In-moose-horns had been
   making rude gestures to us in the morning. We think his wife is embarrassed
   to hear our rutting and made her husband complain in the way Indians do -
   through gesturing. They aren't direct in saying things like us white folk.
   You have to glean the meaning to their method of round about talk, attitude
   of body and through gestures. Even Owopspec didn't come right out and tell
   me the real reason why we've moved our tipi. 'To be closer to the river.'
   Hah! He really means that we're further away from the other tipis when we
   make all that sex noise.

      Ahh. Ahh... Ahh! My dick is getting so stiff beneath me. Owopspec's deep
   pounding in my butt gets me so excited. I used to come out because of it,
   cheating me of the pleasure to return the favor in his butt. I've gotten
   used to Indian love. We're doing so much of it, mornings and nights that
   I've learned to control myself. I like him doing me first so when I take my
   turn over his back, my aching butt (in a nice way!) feels good to flex when
   driving my dick in his. I enjoy feeling that wet sensation from my hole.

      Owopspec loosens his grip of my hands. He rushes them through my
   underarms, palms against them with his fingers digging into my shoulders. A
   really tight grip. His sweaty chest slides over my back. Wild pounding in
   my butt! I feel his heated breaths against my neck and prepare to get
   bitten. He's often doing that near the end like a stallion does to the mare
   he's mounting. I used to be embarrassed for people to see my neck. Now, I'm
   proud to show everyone how much my brave loves me. Breechclout-boy would
   touch my bite marks with awe in his eyes. He bears no such wounds on his
   neck 'cause I know that Owopspec doesn't mount him. The boy does him. Only
   I am given that privilege to bite my brave but I'm not often doing that.
   Feels wrong somehow, to give pain when we are expressing our love for each
   other. I'm a boy. I think only a man should be that passionate.

      Ahh! It's starting to hurt a bit. Owopspec's cock is getting stiff in my
   hole so I know he's about to shoot. I've learned to tighten myself so he can
   feel really good when he does. My dick has felt the man's hole clamping down
   when I'm about to sperm him. We know how to make Indian love really well -
   a giving of ourselves to each other. I really love him. My Indian brave.

      I cry out! My neck gets bit and a throbbing is felt deep in my butt hole.
   Owopspec growls out like an angry bear. To hear his passion! I'm his boy
   forever and knowing that brings tears to my eyes. My mouth opens to utter
   the sweet words: "Ne stoa pinnan jeh ah-eene!"

      "Ah, Krist-o-fer! Ne stoa pinnan jeh ah-eene."

      I'm closing my eyes, overwhelmed by the feelings rushing through me.
   We've affirmed our love for each other in words, acts and the sharing of our
   hearts. I love this man. Love him! Never have I been more happier in all of
   my life!

      My ears fill with the sound of crackling wood. I feel the heat to my
   legs. The nights have been getting colder so all the tipis are aglow like
   jack-o-lanterns. Owopspec is resting over my back. I relish his weight on
   top of me, his rushed breaths against my neck, the feel of his swollen cock
   buried in my hole with its oozing. I can almost feel his male relief. It's
   strange, that. Does being in love get our heads filled with each other's
   thoughts? Naw. That's silly to think that.

      I'm able to breathe easier when the brave lifts himself from me. I rise
   from the mat, give my place to him and plant my butt over his. My hands work
   over his brown back in a massage. I part his hair to give me access to his
   shoulders and neck. Owopspec moans from the pleasure I'm bringing him. I
   often lower my face to kiss any bared spots that I happen to find: his neck,
   shoulder blades, the small of his back and I'm kissing over his brown
   rounded cheeks after scooting myself down his legs. He grunts when I bite
   over his ass. My tongue slips through the crack of it until I find his hole.
   Can't see it in the dark. The fire sets a fiery glow to his body - a redman.
   That's what my people sometimes call the Indians. We have so many wrong
   notions about who they are. They aren't the beggars, thieves or crazed ones
   that sent fear into us homesteaders. Pa was always warning me to be on the
   look out for them 'murderin' redskins'.

      I stick my tongue into Owopspec's hole. He moans. I'm swirling spit in
   him there so my dick can slip in easy and stab good and hard. He likes it
   when I do him savagely. My hands pull his cheeks further apart. I'm forced
   to breathe through my nose. Ahh. He smells like a man in there! My dick is
   really aching me to stick in so I rush over the brave's sweaty back, direct
   myself to his hole and stab! He grunts out. My hands take hold of his sides.
   I'm sliding over him, thrusting in and out of his butt to make Indian love.
   He's better at it than me. I feel a tightening around my dick when pulling
   back. His asshole does that expertly. I'm stabbing back in. A soft cry
   escapes my lips. It feels so wonderful to join our bodies this way.

      My face buries itself into the man's soft hair. It smells strongly, like
   sweat mixed with prairie grass. I playfully nibble on a curling strand.
   That's a worthy quality in a savage - their long black hair. Owopspec's body
   is a deep brown, lean and hairless. I admire his big nipples that get hard
   when we're belly rubbing or I'm sucking on them. He likes me biting them.

      I lift my hands until finding a good grip of the brave's shoulders. That
   allows me to pound his butt pretty hard, like a war drum. Owopspec grunts
   with each of my thrusts. I like hearing that from him. Kinda makes me feel
   like I'm a man. My dick is starting to feel real good. I keep it buried deep
   in his butt because I'm close to sperming. He senses this. My legs are
   pushed on by his legs lifting from the mat. That gets his ass sticking up.
   I stab it hard a few more times until my balls tingle in warning.

      I'm crying out! A strong gush comes out my dick. Ahh! The pleasure from
   this is intense! Owopspec wails out like a squaw. I'm smiling. That same
   warrior who'd complained about our nightly rutting, we'd heard his squaw
   wailing out too but we didn't return any rude gestures in the morning. I
   suppose that it's not really acceptable for a man to keep a boy in his tipi
   even amongst these savages. No way that could happen in my society.

      I rest over my lover's back while enjoying my male relief. My hands are
   slipped around his neck. I'm feeling his heartbeat through my palms. I've
   felt his from his cock in my hole when he's resting. It's a rapid beat after
   he's just spermed that eventually slows.

      My nose rubs against the man's soft hair. It tickles me. I'm feeling so
   happy to have this brave as my lover. He is mine. Forever! I'm learning how
   to speak in Siksika so that I'll be able to become one of the People. I've
   seen this desire in Owopspec for me to be accepted. My white skin will
   always set me apart but in my heart, I will become an Indian. Gone is my
   unhappy past where I'd felt lost and alone. An orphan. I've been adopted
   into this tribe and am eager to pass my initiation rite next summer that
   will make me a brave. What a happy moment that will be! We'll both become
   'bare butt braves'.

      My eyes open. I see the far wall of my cell when returning to myself.
   That was a sweet memory of Christopher's. I'd felt like I was really there
   with Owopspec making love to him in the 'Indian way' as he put it. I wonder
   if they'd gotten together with Breechclout-boy?

      I'm swept into another intense memory. Part of me fears getting lost in
   my former self's life because I could lose myself, being just Mike. Yet I'm
   unable to prevent it. I want to Live Christopher's life that was me. We even
   share the same birth date though one hundred and thirty-four years separate
   us. I'm learning how similar we are in our attitudes about things, beliefs
   and the way we feel. Chris was so much like me. He is me. I'm him.

      Sweat runs down my back when I find a place to relieve myself in the
   dark. I've walked some from the glowing tipis so no one will see that I'm
   naked. A smile comes to my lips. Owopspec and I have just made love. My hole
   pains me some. He'd been most savage to me this night. Wonderfully so. My
   neck hurts too. I reach up to feel my bite mark. Is that blood?

      My arms huddle around me for warmth. I piss to the ground that feels
   stiff against my feet. I'm told that it's going to snow soon. These Indians
   have a way with predicting the weather. When they say rain is to come, it
   comes. The wind, too. I'd seen my first tornado over a moon ago. It raced
   over the land like a dark angry sprite. Owopspec took me on his horse to
   find its path afterwards. No grass remained. The dirt was gouged out even
   worse than a buffalo stampede.

      Owopspec performed a rite over that broken ground. He stomped it hard,
   his arms raised and in song, he thanked our Father that His Wind Child had
   kept to that lonely track through the prairie instead of running through
   our camp. I was looking at his butt the whole time. He keeps it uncovered,
   only a thin thong down his crack. When the brave caught my eyes on him
   there, he let me stick in him. It was an exciting moment until we were
   caught by one of our tribesmen. I didn't hear Blood-runs-down-his-arms'
   approach. He brought his horse along side of us and stared. Owopspec seemed
   not to mind the intrusion, his left hand reached back to pull over my butt
   to continue my thrusts in his. I couldn't, though. To my surprise, the
   warrior jumped down from his horse, pulled me from Owopspec's back, dropped
   his breechclout and finished what I couldn't in my brave. That left me with
   ill feelings. It took a long talk between us in our tipi that night before
   the bad feelings strangling my heart were put to rest. I don't like sharing
   my brave with others.

      A sharp thrill comes from my dick. I've been pulling over it after my
   urine's flow ebbed. That surprises me. Owopspec just took sperm from me so
   why am I feeling the need to come out again?

      I'm startled by footsteps behind me. My hands rush down to cover my loins
   but that's silly. It's too dark for them to see that I'm without my flaps.

      "Krist-o-fer?"

      A boy's high-pitched voice. I think it's Breechclout-boy. "Yes. It me."
   He speaks his next words slowly but I'm only able to glean half of them.

      "You ... Owopspec to ... ..? I no see ... night ... ... Can we ... to ...
   ... cold?"

      I'm not sure what he's asking. The boy's hand comes to my left shoulder.
   I feel its trembling; from the cold or is he excited? We've embraced our
   needs before but I'm sensing something odd in him that I can't fathom. His
   body presses against mine. My hand brushes against his breechclout flaps.
   Maybe he doesn't know that I'm naked or I've misread his intent to do
   something together. We've been having sex in the river after a swim and
   more recently, on its bank when the weather turned too cold. He is a cute
   Indian boy. I think he's just turned thirteen.

      Breechclout-boy pulls his hand from my shoulder. I hear him rubbing his
   fingers together. He leans his face down to my neck and kisses me. My
   breaths tremble. Pain comes from his sucking that reminds me of my bite mark
   there. The boy runs his nose down my chest, sniffing me while going lower to
   my belly and then to my dick. I'm startled when he mouths my knob. His hands
   come to my hips, urging me to turn around. I reluctantly do so.

      The boy's nose presses in my right cheek. He sticks it into the crack
   of my butt while his hands lower to my legs and tries pulling them apart. I
   gasp when feeling his tonguing in my hole. Owopspec has seeded me and he
   must be tasting that. I'm getting very excited. My legs spread and I bend
   over slightly so that he can more easily lick into my butt.

      There's a scuffling sound. Breechclout-boy gets to his feet and I feel
   his hard dick against my butt. I'm straightening my back and squeeze my
   cheeks together. I think he wants to stick in me. Should I allow him to?

      A stab is given to my butt! I'm gasping, feeling the boy's knob against
   my hole and pushing in. My feet are rooted to the ground. I allow him to
   join our bodies in the Indian way of making love. A thing we've not ever
   done before.

      My hips are grasped. Breechclout-boy pants for breath when he stabs in
   and out of my butt. There's no pain. Owopspec's cock is much bigger and my
   hole is plenty slippery with his sperm. This boy is in need to give me his.
   I'm allowing it with mixed feelings. He's drunk some of my brave's so it's
   fitting that he replace that with his own.

      I peer into the distance at the glowing tipis. My brave is waiting for my
   return in that lone tipi near the river. What will Owopspec think about me
   giving my butt to this kid? I've only let that brave seed mine. He's given
   himself to other men and Breechclout-boy. Maybe it's okay that I let him too.

      My dick is getting stiff. This youth doesn't have reach to hit my squaw
   spot that Owopspec's cock can but the sensation from taking stabs is very
   exciting. I reach down to handle myself. My hand matches Breechclout-boy's
   thrusts that is close to making me come out.

      An outcry! I join in the boy's male release with a sharp cry of my own.
   I'm squirting to the ground. His small hands reach around my chest and lock
   together. I feel his throbbing deep in my butt. This kid's release has only
   recently turned thick and white like a man's. Maybe that's why he needed to
   do my butt instead of finding relief in a belly rub or us pulling over each
   other. We stand together for a while. Connected. My heart feels nothing
   wrong for what we've done.

      "Kris? We do ... I want. ... heart good!"

      "Yes. My heart good." The boy gently pushes on my back to separate us.
   The darkness prevents me from seeing his face. Would I have seen an
   expression of conquest in his eyes and a mocking smile on his lips? I'm
   startled when he grasps my shoulder. He slowly repeats a series of words.

      "Wind-go-...-his-hair."

      That's his name he's giving me, I realize. I'm asking him to explain the
   third word he spoke because I don't know it. Breechclout-boy blows through
   his long hair and repeats that third word to his name. Ah. It's 'through'.

      I touch the boy's chest and say, "Wind-go-through-his-hair."

      "Yes, Krist-o-fer."

      He's touching my chest with his fingers. They spread until the boy's palm
   presses over my heart. I return his tender gesture. We've just become more
   than friends. Realizing that breaks something in me that had been preventing
   my heart from going to him. I take Wind-go-through-his-hair's hand and
   together, we walk back to Owopspec's tipi. This is the night that we'll join
   this youth's heart to ours.

      My former self reveals a flurry of memories of them three making love. He
   taught Wind-go-through-his-hair how to kiss. His hunger was wonderful to
   satisfy and that led to lots of love making. Every night! Owopspec would
   lay over his mat with Chris on top sticking in his butt. I Live that moment
   instead of just Seeing it from memory.

      Ahhh! My butt is eagerly taken by Wind-go-through-his-hair while I'm
   sticking into my lover's. Our bodies writhe in a threesome towards release.
   Breathy moans. Stabs. I worry about Owopspec getting crushed by our weight
   over him but he doesn't seem to mind.

      I'm quick to squirt in the brave's hole. Wind-go-through-his-hair cries
   out a moment later, his excitement adding to mine when he fills my butt. We
   stay connected for a while to enjoy our male relief.

      I rest on my side to watch the boy do it again but with Owopspec. He's
   such a horny kid. I'm grasping his flexing brown ass, pushing down on it to
   get his stabs very deep into the man. It takes him longer to cry out. A
   second coming out can be harder to achieve but is sweeter!

      Owopspec shakes the boy off his back because he's in need. I see the
   flame in my lover's dark eyes and settle myself under him. He brutally uses
   my ass that doesn't feel much pain. Wind-go-through-his-hair has stretched
   my hole and made it plenty slippery. I'm struggling for breath when a
   crushing weight presses down on my butt. Is that kid sticking into my lover
   again?! No. He's sitting over Owopspec's butt, bouncing over it with his
   butt to get the man's cock thrusting really deep in me.

      I look towards the tipi door for some reason. Oh. Breechclout-boy no
   longer peeks on us but as Wind-go-through-his-hair has joined into our love.
   It still seems strange. My heart is big enough to love both of them? To me,
   Owopspec is my adult lover who's teaching me how to be an Indian. This youth
   is learnin' things from me like kissing, turning cart-wheels over the grass
   and lots of other stuff. It's like I'm in the middle of their love. They
   were together before I came along and now, my place have been secured
   between them. I'm listening to my heart that says it's okay. My head is
   still sometimes stuck in the past when I was only white.

      I'm panting for breath. Living Christopher's memories is intense and when
   I look down, there's a wet spot showing through the front of my pants. I
   look upwards at the cameras. Did anyone see?

      I turn my face towards the padded wall. Eyes open. I'm afraid that if I
   close them, more memories will assault me. My thoughts turn to the two
   people I love - Jesse and Running Water. Like Chris, I'm in the middle of
   their love for me. Running Water is mature and experienced like Owopspec
   who is teaching me how to be gay. He's the man in our relationship. Jesse
   is young minded like Wind-go-through-his-hair but his hold over my heart is
   greater. I've learned from my former self that it's okay to love them both.

      More memories are cast into my head that I can't hold back. Christopher
   has so much of himself to give me. I sense the danger in Living them. I'm
   unable to deny him! Nor do I want to. All that he was, what he learned and
   experienced are given me as if I were him. We're becoming one person.

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