white.”
“But with a name like O’Brien, I assumed—”
“You assumed wrong,” he said, cutting her off. “My father was white, but I was raised here.”
“Don’t you know who this is?” a voice from behind her called out.
R.J. turned to see a man standing a few feet away. Shorter than Sean and barrel-chested, he wore a dark shirt and jeans. A pair of sunglasses dangled from a pocket embroidered with the words “Tribal Police”.
He crossed the short distance and held out his hand. “You must be the reporter. I’m Charlie Two Horses. Welcome to the rez.”
Shaking his hand, R.J. stole a look at Sean who’d taken a step back. “Thanks.”
Charlie turned toward Sean and smiled. “So our boy here didn’t tell you about himself, huh?”
Sean shuffled uncomfortably. “This isn’t necessary, Charlie.”
“Of course it is,” he replied turning back to R.J. “This here’s Sean Swifthawk O’Brien, grandson of Jon Swifthawk. Raised you didn’t he, Sean, after your parents were killed?”
“We don’t need to go into that, Charlie.”
Charlie’s face took on an expression of innocence. “But I heard her say she wanted a ‘human’ story, and just think how yours would tug on the heart strings . . . the son of murdered parents; a poor half-breed kid shipped off to the rez to be raised by one of the most important men in the tribe?”
“My family background doesn’t have anything to do with the Center,” Sean said in a clipped voice.
“Sure, it does, Sean. You and your grandfather were the ones who talked the tribe into building it—” He stopped and looked at R.J. “Sean was also the one who got white investors to put up the money.”
“I organized a few fundraisers.”
Charlie snorted “A few fundraisers? How much did you get? A cool—”
“That’s enough, Charlie,” Sean said, his hands clenched at his side.
Charlie took a step forward. “What’s wrong, Swifthawk,” he spat out the word. “Don’t want to give her too—”
“Not now,” Sean began, his chin rising. “She doesn’t—”
“Doesn’t what?” Charlie interrupted, moving closer.
R.J. squirmed. A fight breaking out in the Cultural Center would make a better story, but she really didn’t want to see them come to blows. “What’s this?” she asked quickly, trying to diffuse the rising tension.
“Ah that,” Charlie said, suddenly forgetting Sean and stepping up to the plaque. He ran his finger down the carved names, stopping on one near the bottom. “It’s in honor of our warriors. All who’ve proudly served in the Armed Forces.” He tapped the plaque. “Here’s my name,” he finished proudly.
R.J. read down through the names. “Where’s yours, Sean.”
Charlie gave a bark of laughter. “He didn’t serve, did you, Sean?”
“Not in the Army,” he replied curtly.
Charlie shrugged. “That’s right – you went off to college instead.” He shrugged again. “Not everyone’s cut out to be a warrior.” Taking his sunglasses out of his pocket, he settled them on his face. “Nice meeting you, R.J.” With a slight sneer, he glanced at Sean before returning his attention back to her. “If there’s anything I can do, be sure and let me know.”
R.J. watched Charlie march down the hall before turning back to Sean. “Ah,” she began, but the words caught in her throat.
His eyes – for a split second, she could’ve sworn they changed from amber to yellow.
It was late afternoon by the time R.J. returned to the motel. After Charlie had left, Sean had continued his tour of the Center. He’d been articulate and at times even charming. She would’ve needed ice flowing through her veins in order not to have felt the tug of attraction, especially when he smiled. Man, he had a great smile. And the pride he felt in the Center would’ve been kind of cool had she not known he was only using her as a means to an end. She had cooperated. She’d taken a ton of photos, learned all about life
“But with a name like O’Brien, I assumed—”
“You assumed wrong,” he said, cutting her off. “My father was white, but I was raised here.”
“Don’t you know who this is?” a voice from behind her called out.
R.J. turned to see a man standing a few feet away. Shorter than Sean and barrel-chested, he wore a dark shirt and jeans. A pair of sunglasses dangled from a pocket embroidered with the words “Tribal Police”.
He crossed the short distance and held out his hand. “You must be the reporter. I’m Charlie Two Horses. Welcome to the rez.”
Shaking his hand, R.J. stole a look at Sean who’d taken a step back. “Thanks.”
Charlie turned toward Sean and smiled. “So our boy here didn’t tell you about himself, huh?”
Sean shuffled uncomfortably. “This isn’t necessary, Charlie.”
“Of course it is,” he replied turning back to R.J. “This here’s Sean Swifthawk O’Brien, grandson of Jon Swifthawk. Raised you didn’t he, Sean, after your parents were killed?”
“We don’t need to go into that, Charlie.”
Charlie’s face took on an expression of innocence. “But I heard her say she wanted a ‘human’ story, and just think how yours would tug on the heart strings . . . the son of murdered parents; a poor half-breed kid shipped off to the rez to be raised by one of the most important men in the tribe?”
“My family background doesn’t have anything to do with the Center,” Sean said in a clipped voice.
“Sure, it does, Sean. You and your grandfather were the ones who talked the tribe into building it—” He stopped and looked at R.J. “Sean was also the one who got white investors to put up the money.”
“I organized a few fundraisers.”
Charlie snorted “A few fundraisers? How much did you get? A cool—”
“That’s enough, Charlie,” Sean said, his hands clenched at his side.
Charlie took a step forward. “What’s wrong, Swifthawk,” he spat out the word. “Don’t want to give her too—”
“Not now,” Sean began, his chin rising. “She doesn’t—”
“Doesn’t what?” Charlie interrupted, moving closer.
R.J. squirmed. A fight breaking out in the Cultural Center would make a better story, but she really didn’t want to see them come to blows. “What’s this?” she asked quickly, trying to diffuse the rising tension.
“Ah that,” Charlie said, suddenly forgetting Sean and stepping up to the plaque. He ran his finger down the carved names, stopping on one near the bottom. “It’s in honor of our warriors. All who’ve proudly served in the Armed Forces.” He tapped the plaque. “Here’s my name,” he finished proudly.
R.J. read down through the names. “Where’s yours, Sean.”
Charlie gave a bark of laughter. “He didn’t serve, did you, Sean?”
“Not in the Army,” he replied curtly.
Charlie shrugged. “That’s right – you went off to college instead.” He shrugged again. “Not everyone’s cut out to be a warrior.” Taking his sunglasses out of his pocket, he settled them on his face. “Nice meeting you, R.J.” With a slight sneer, he glanced at Sean before returning his attention back to her. “If there’s anything I can do, be sure and let me know.”
R.J. watched Charlie march down the hall before turning back to Sean. “Ah,” she began, but the words caught in her throat.
His eyes – for a split second, she could’ve sworn they changed from amber to yellow.
It was late afternoon by the time R.J. returned to the motel. After Charlie had left, Sean had continued his tour of the Center. He’d been articulate and at times even charming. She would’ve needed ice flowing through her veins in order not to have felt the tug of attraction, especially when he smiled. Man, he had a great smile. And the pride he felt in the Center would’ve been kind of cool had she not known he was only using her as a means to an end. She had cooperated. She’d taken a ton of photos, learned all about life
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