Agent Out of Time

I was in the midst of that tearful prayer, when an alien noise made its rude appearance into the tranquillness of the morning songbird's lullaby. My hand reached into my coat pocket and brought out the screeching modern nuisance that was my cell phone. I thought I had left it back at the cabin, but apparently I was not so fortunate. I held it for a moment as a savage urge almost overwhelmed me to bash the contrary device off of a rock.

I sighed and flipped it open, and saw that the call was from Ted.

"Yes?"

"I disturbed your morning vigil didn't I? Sorry about that! You didn't forget about picking up my grandson today though, did you?"

I grimaced, because I had forgotten, yet one more sign that I was getting old.

"I'm on my way."

The voice on the other side chuckled, but didn't say anything and I ended the call with a snap of the phone. I swiftly pocketed the Bible and started making my way back down to my pickup that was about a mile off from me.

Ted Rogerson was one of the few people I had bothered to cultivate a friendship with. He, like me, was not held in high regard by those of my people. I was something of a maverick to my people. They didn't understand me, but they respected me. Ted they disliked mainly because of his profession. He was an archaeologist and his point of interest in these parts was the study of the first dwellers of the continent, which may not of been strictly Native American in origin, as was commonly acknowledged by all in academia.

His research and study bothered a great many among the native tribes in the area, as for me I could not have cared less as to who was here first. In the Bible that I read it stated that all of mankind had started with two people, so what did it matter which descendents settled here and there first?

Only the problem was that it did matter to a lot of people. Such research threatened the continued income gained by Native Americans from casinos, not to mention free perks like free college and tax leniencies. It was a big deal to those who depended on such incomes, but I had no stake in that game, as I had never taken a paycheck for being a Native American.

I was proud of my heritage and grateful to live where I did. Taking payment for being something that I already was far and above anything money could have ever bought would've only cheapened the traditions of my forefathers. My forefathers would never have understood the idea of being paid for what you were, as a point of ancestry, out of the sense of some past wrongdoing on somebody else's part long since dead. They would have seen it simply like this, 'you lived, you fought, and you died, hoping for a good life somewhere in between'.