Mark heard the snapping of wood burning in the fire, Russel was up early. The sun had barely appeared above the horizon and Ronny was softly snoring beside him. They had done a lot of hiking the day before and everyone was tired last night.

As expected the boy was a little excited about sleeping in a tent beside Mark. But they had exchanged kisses and settled down, sliding into dream land almost immediately. Mark remembered the image of Grey Eyes and he could see the resemblance to Ronny.

Despite the father's European ancestry, Ronny had all the traits of a Native American. Russel was right, the boy needed to go see the museum in Washington, his heritage was on display there. Ronny might be getting an education from all this, but Mark felt like there was a lot more to learn.

He slid out of his sleeping bag, careful not to disturb Ronny, and put on his hiking boots. Russel had a pot of water on the fire and Mark hoped that meant he had coffee somewhere in his bag of tricks.

"Good Morning," Mark said as he sat down by the fire.

"It is, but the night was much better," Russel said. "I had the dream."

"You ... oh wow, I didn't know that would happen," Mark said.

"It was welcome, now I've shared what you see. Legend has it that the Oneida had some powerful spirits, guess I believe that now. The boy Grey Eyes looks just like Ronny, enough that they could be brothers," Russel said. "And after that dream you really do need to take the boy to the museum, he'll find a great piece of his history on the fourth floor."

"You've been there I take it?"

"I was there representing the Nanticoke when it opened, the festivities were quite spectacular. Dozens of spirit leaders, shamans or medicine men if you will, blessed the place. That image of George Washington in the dream, it's important don't you think?"

"Yes, but I don't know why? I know the Oneida fought alongside those soldiers, the whole thing felt like some kind of foreshadowing of events," Mark said.

"I understood every word, which was pretty amazing in itself. The whole dream made me wonder at its source. I'm not sure the details are a conscious part of Ronny's thoughts, it must go deeper than that."

"I tried to think about that myself, it gives me a headache," Mark said.

"It's like the dream is playing back from some hidden memory, something that was imprinted in his brain before birth," Russel said.

"See, there's the headache. I can't think on that level, it doesn't make sense to me. I understand intuition, all creatures seem to have some of that ... but this?"

"It comes from his core, his inner spirit. If anything points to him as this fabled Spirit Warrior that's it. Whatever the challenge is it still lies ahead and we need to guide him while we can. How do you take your coffee?"

Mark smiled. "Black will do just fine."

Russel made the boys cook breakfast once they got up. Mark could see that Ronny wanted to share what he had seen in the dream, but not in front of Thomas. Russel's grandson was oblivious to that part of Ronny's life.

"So ... do you boys want to spend another night out here in the glory of nature's beauty or go fishing?" Russel asked.

"Fishing," The boys said in unison.

"I though so. I think Mark is tired of eating beans, maybe a fish fry will cheer him up."

They struck the tents and packed everything back up. Russel had them scour the ground for the smallest piece of trash since everything had to go back with them. The ashes were scattered and then Russel stood quietly for a few moments.

"We must always thank the spirits for the blessings we have received in this place," He said and then he nodded. "Now let's go catch some fish for dinner."

They stopped in Georgetown to get Mark's car and drove towards Millsboro.

"Did you see George Washington in your dream?" Ronny finally asked.

"I did, and that woman Polly you told us about," Mark replied. "You allowed Russel to see the dream, didn't you?"

Ronny nodded. "I thought he should, he's in this with us now."

"So today you get to clean a fish," Mark laughed.

"I'll watch, maybe I can do it. Are we going to spend the night?"

"If you want, Katherine isn't expecting us back until tomorrow.

"Yeah, let's stay over. I like Thomas, he's a smart boy," Ronny said.

It was a great afternoon, the boys caught lots of fish and Thomas showed Ronny how to clean them. Russel's grandson was probably Ronny's first real friend outside of the school environment, what a sad statement about the life he had led.

Mark really did love Ronny, but not in an intimate way. The boy was opening up and learning so much about life. That success would be the ultimate statement to the father of what a mistake he had made. One of these days Mark wanted to meet the mother. After all she was the source of her son's heritage, but she probably had no idea of the greatness that dwelled inside the boy. One of these days the world would know about Ronny, the key to that lay in a burial mound somewhere in New York State.

After dinner the boys decided they would like to spend the night in a tent out in the back yard. They went about setting it up and making themselves comfortable. Russel told them to watch out for the bears, to which Thomas laughed and said they had never seen a bear in Millsboro. Even though it was a joke Ronny looked relieved.

Mark was given the guest quarters, a fold out couch on the back porch. The house became quiet a few hours after dark because farm families had to get up early and work, even Thomas. The night was filled with sounds, which occasionally included giggling boys out in the yard. And Mark fell asleep wondering what dreams he might have, but there were none.

The sound of people moving in the house woke Mark up, and he could barely see any light in the sky. His watch said it was five in the morning, but he got up when he smelled coffee brewing. Russel was sitting at the table with a pot of coffee while his son and daughter moved about in the kitchen.

"Have a good night?" Russel asked.

"Yes, very good ... and no dreams," Mark replied.

"He doesn't do that every night I gather; maybe he was afraid Thomas would see it."

"I have no idea what triggers the dreams. Does Thomas have to get up this morning?"

"He will because he has milking chores first thing. Maybe Ronny would like to watch?" Russel said.

"He would, he's never met a glass of milk he didn't like," Mark joked. "We ought to get back to the school by lunchtime if we can. I'd like to ask Katherine about taking him over to Washington in a few days."

"I want to make a phone call before you go," Russel said. "If possible I'd like you to meet with Clarence Blackfoot when you get there; he's one of the directors in the museum."

"You know some interesting people," Mark said.

"Clarence is an Ojibwe, he was raised in Montana. But he's an anthropologist by trade, and is also one of the leading members of the Niitsitapi Spirit Lodge. In that society the men form lodges, so he's a medicine man, a very spiritual man."

"You think he would understand any of this?" Mark asked.

"No, but I don't think he will reject it either. This is going to take an insider, Mark. No one is going to allow us to open up a burial mound because of what might be there. Clarence would add respectability, a scholar's approach to this whole thing. That's why I would like you to meet him, decide for yourself."

"I agree," Mark said. "Ronny will be impressed, that's for sure."

"I'll find out if he's in the city and let you know. He might be up to his elbows in a dig somewhere."

But he wasn't, and Clarence agreed to meet with Mark and Ronny because Russel said the meeting would mean more to the Native American community than anything in the last century. One thing Clarence knew about Russel, he wasn't given to exaggeration.

Katherine had no objections to Ronny visiting the museum.

"I broached the subject with his mother one time a few years ago, said that maybe they should go as a family to tour the place. She said her husband wouldn't like it. That made me so mad I could spit," Katherine said, and then she smiled. "That wouldn't be very lady like, would it?"

Mark could only shake his head. "The man is ignorant, that's his loss. But Russel is going to introduce us to a friend of his at the museum which will give us an insider look at the exhibits. Where is Doc today?"

Katherine smiled. "He went fishing, see what you started? Some of the boys heard Ronny talking abut fishing and they begged Doc to take them so he drove off to Oxford this morning. It's been a while for him, but he needed to get away and enjoy the salt air."

"Not only did Ronny catch fish yesterday, we cleaned them and ate them as well," Mark said. "If we leave tomorrow then I imagine we'll have some time to see the other Smithsonian exhibits, and I better take Ronny over to Mount Vernon."

"George Washington's home?" Katherine asked.

"Ronny has discovered that Washington was a great friend of the Oneida people, he wants to get a feel for the man."

Katherine nodded. "This has something to do with his gift, doesn't it? I think you know more about it than I do at this point."

"Yes, I probably do. Do you understand the concept of a spirit quest in Native America?"

"The manhood test?"

"You got it. Ronny already has a compelling spirit inside, at least that's what Russel says. Now it's time for the boy to seek the knowledge that will make him a man of his people. I can't give you all the details because I don't know the answers myself. But I think that the Oneida people are going to get a surprise from that boy and embrace him as one of their own."

Mark smiled. "Then it won't matter how ignorant the father is, Ronny will have the support of his native roots to guide him."

Katherine was silent for a moment. "I trust you to do the right things for Ronny, just keep me informed." And with that she gave Mark a hug. "Oh, before I forget ... you'll need this," She said, handing over an envelope.

"What's this?" Mark asked.

"Field trip funding, we can't have you spending your own money on all this. I know you weren't expecting anything but take it. I'll send the bill to Ronny's father."

Mark smiled. "Small justice, isn't it?"

Mark helped Ronny pack a bag. Three days worth of tourist clothing, and his blue suit just in case. Washington could be hot in summer, but June would give them pleasant weather. Mark had his credit card and some cash so he left Katherine's check in the apartment for later. Just out of curiosity he took a peek and smiled, she'd written it for a thousand dollars.

If that was the budget then they could stay at a decent hotel, Mark knew several. Washington was an old haunt from his college days; he even remembered the layout of the metro subway system. They packed the car and headed up Route 50 towards the Bay Bridge.

Ronny was a chatterbox for most of the trip which only took them two hours, they made a stop outside of Annapolis for breakfast off the highway. Route 50 went right on into Washington, becoming New York Avenue and then Constitution Avenue in the heart of the city. At ten o'clock in the morning the town was buzzing with traffic and summer tourists, but Mark drove around the circuit on the National Mall just to give Ronny the tour.

They turned north and took Eighteenth Street up to New Hampshire, skirting the traffic mess at Dupont Circle. Two blocks up New Hampshire they came to the Carlyle, the only hotel Mark could possibly enjoy in this city, there were memories here.

They were in the heart of the gay community, something Mark had not mentioned to Ronny. He didn't think it would take long for the boy to recognize what was around him, but he wasn't going to encourage a discussion by pointing it out. This was a great hotel within walking distance of the subway and no one in their right mind tried to drive anywhere in this town, there was no place to park.

Fortunately the hotel had its own parking area and Mark took one of the last spaces they had.

"We're staying here?" Ronny asked.

"Yes ... at least we'll sleep here, I doubt if we'll spend much time in our room. I promise you three days of fun, and tomorrow we have that appointment with Dr. Blackfoot."

They carried their bags in the back door and down the hall to the lobby. Mark had phoned ahead for their reservation and made sure the manager knew this was a student/ teacher situation. In case there was any doubt he had a letter from the school giving Ronny permission to be there. In this day and age Mark didn't want this to look like anything else.

Their room was very nice even though the Carlyle was in an older building. Ronny examined the bathroom and the kitchenette, and then he plopped down on the couch to look at the two double beds.

"I suppose one bed would look bad with the two of us, huh?"

"You got that right," Mark said. "We have all afternoon and evening, what would you like to do?"

"Can we go see the Air and Space Museum? Thomas said it's really cool."

Mark smiled. "Yeah it is, let's go."

They walked two blocks over to Connecticut Avenue and found the gaping hole in the ground entrance that housed the escalator down into the subway system.

"Whoa, that's a long way down," Ronny laughed.

"If the escalator stops we'd have to walk back up."

"Oh no, let's hope it doesn't."

It was a business day in Washington but the subway platforms were not crowded. Ronny watched as Mark bought them passes worth ten dollars apiece.

"It costs that much to ride?" Ronny asked.

"No, we keep the pass and use it again on our next ride, so don't lose it," Mark said.

Ronny used it to get past the gate and then handed it back to Mark. "You better keep it for me," He said.

They took the Red Line train to Metro Center and switched to the Blue Line which would take them to the Mall. Ronny had never been on a subway and found it rather exciting, but he was overjoyed when they came up the escalator into the middle of the Mall.

"Oh ... awesome," Ronny said, taking a three hundred-sixty degree view of the wide open space surrounded with buildings. The Air and Space Museum was just across the street and that's where they headed.

Mark remembered the first time he'd walked through those doors, he'd been seven years old. The overwhelming height of the building and all the aircraft hanging from the ceiling had been a little frightening, but he soon got over that. They had rocket ships in there, real ones it seemed. Like most boys that age he wanted to be an astronaut and the museum only fed that fantasy.

Ronny gawked at the planes and thrilled at the space exhibits. They spent four hours going through every display and watching the film about space travel.

"So, you want to be the first Oneida astronaut?" Mark asked.

"Nope, my feet aren't leaving the ground," Ronny laughed.

It was four o'clock and they hadn't even eaten lunch. "Are you hungry?" Mark asked.

"It's almost dinner time, I can wait," Ronny said. "Where we gonna eat?"

"Hmm, this is Washington. You can get just about any kind of food you want in this city."

"Can I get a steak, with fries? I'll even eat a salad," Ronny said.

Mark laughed. "That we can do. I guess we better catch the subway back to Dupont Circle."

The subway platform was crowded now; it was almost the end of the workday. Ronny looked at the crowded subway cars and grinned as he pushed his way inside. Metro Center was a zoo as they made their way back to the Red Line trains. And then fifteen minutes later they were riding that long escalator back up to the street.

"I don't suppose we can eat much before five," Mark said.

"You have a place in mind?" Ronny asked.

"You know I grew up around this city, we lived out in the suburbs, but I spent a lot of time down here. That means I know all the good places to eat, and if you want the best steak then it has to be The Palms. But we'll have to get all dressed up."

"Oh, we don't have to do all that ... I'll eat a hamburger," Ronny said.

"We won't do that either, I'll surprise you."

Mark led Ronny down to the circle to get the flavor of the neighborhood. If after a short walk around the fountain Ronny didn't know he was in a gay neighborhood then the boy would have to be blind.

It was summer and the streets were filled with people on their way home from work and those who were out to be seen. Dupont Circle was the center spoke for the shops, bars and apartments that catered to the gay population. The clothing, the hairstyles and even the language was gay, Mark could see it everywhere, but he was more interested in watching Ronny.

"All these people live down here?" Ronny asked.

"Yeah, I never did think about living in the city, but I visited a lot of friends who had apartments around here," Mark replied.

"You don't see them anymore?"

"I haven't in a long time, college kept me pretty busy."

Ronny stopped to look in the window of a shop, one that displayed a rainbow flag rather prominently. Slowly he turned around and looked at all the people, and then he smiled.

"You brought me here for a reason, these people are all gay," Ronny said.

"Not all of them, just most," Mark said.

"Cool beans."

That was Ronny's ultimate compliment, and now that he was aware of the gay scene they could go eat.

"I have a place in mind," Mark said. "They have good food and we can sit outside to watch all the people walk by."

"I'm hungry, I'll eat anything."

Zorba's was the little Greek place on Twentieth Street that everyone loved. If he was going to teach Ronny anything about life then the boy had to consider other cultures and what they had to offer. They got a nice little table by the railing that gave them an unobstructed view of Connecticut Avenue.

"They have lasagna," Ronny said, looking at the menu. "That's always good."

"Hmm, not taking risks I see. I'd recommend the Pastitsio or the Shish Kebab."

"I can't even say those things," Ronny laughed. "I know, you order that and I'll get to try some."

"All right. Only you would eat Italian food at a Greek restaurant," Mark said.

The boy ended up eating half his Pastitsio, a pasta and ground beef concoction Mark had always loved, apparently so did Ronny. They split a large Greek salad and had Baklava for dessert. The bill with tip came to less than fifty dollars, about the price of one meal at The Palms.

"Oh that was so good," Ronny said. "Wait until I tell Paul about that Pastitsio stuff."

"Okay, so we can check Greek food off the list, we'll try something different tomorrow," Mark said.

"This is some adventure, huh? I'm happy I get to be here with you."

"You're a sweetheart," Mark said.

Ronny grinned as they crossed Connecticut at the light, and then the boy slid his arm around Mark's waist and pulled him close. Mark laid an arm on Ronny's shoulder and felt the boy lean into him. What the hell, everyone else was doing it.

They walked the two blocks over to the Carlyle and went up to their room.

"So what do we do tonight?" Ronny asked.

"It's the middle of the week so I imagine the streets won't be crowded," Mark said. "We could go see a movie or take a walk. I think we ought to find a gift for Katherine while we're here."

"Yeah, that would be nice. I'd rather walk around than see a movie."

And so they walked, but Mark knew why. Ronny was studying the gay people he saw on the street. There were always couples, some headed out to one of the nearby bars, others heading home from dinner. Mark had always been able to spot a gay man, it seems Ronny was learning to do it too.

They sat on a bench inside the circle at Dupont. The heat of the day was gone, darkness fast approaching in the haze of another Washington day.

"I guess this is the place to be gay," Ronny finally said. "They don't have to hide it here."

"There's security in numbers," Mark said. "It wasn't always this way; it took a long time for gay people to be accepted. But they've rebuilt so many of the neighborhoods around here. Gay people are here to stay."

"You were right you know, I don't know what it means to be gay," Ronny said. "I mean there is the sex part and all that, but it looks like a lot more is going on around here."

"It's hard to be so young and have gay feelings. Adult gay men are not going to accept a boy your age very easily."

"I don't want their acceptance, I'm not interested in any of these guys," Ronny said. "I'm only interested in you, and when the time comes ... when I'm eighteen ... "

"I love you too," Mark said.

The crackle of musket fire filled the smoke filled forest. Grey Eyes could hear the screams of the Seneca women and children as they ran for cover. The village was on fire and there were few remaining warriors to protect them, those who had tried to stop the attack were now dead.

General Sullivan's troops fired blindly into the smoke and the killing went on. Grey Eyes broke off and ran back behind the soldiers searching for the Lieutenant he knew.

"It is done, there are no more warriors in the village," Grey Eyes said once he found the man.

"Bradley, sound the recall ... we don't need to waste ammunition," Lieutenant Parsons ordered, and then he grinned as drums beat out the message. "Bet you're glad to see them get what's coming to them, Grey Eyes."

"Killing women and children is not the Christian way, Lieutenant."

Parsons gave him a hard look. He didn't need an Indian telling him about Christian values, even if he was an important warrior. Hell, they had marched all the way out here to put these Indians in their place and from what he could see it was working.

The Mohawk and Seneca had fled their villages, moving west and away from the advancing column of American soldiers. General Sullivan had been given his orders by no less than the Congress. Push the Indians back; make them incapable of supporting the British.

The feuding between the Oneida and the Mohawk had taken a new turn since the Battle of Oriskany two years before. The British ambush of American troops and their Oneida scouts had turned into a bloodbath when the Mohawks had gone crazy; it was the first real battle between the natives. The Oneida had been looking for revenge ever since.

Parsons thought Grey Eyes would be happy, they had destroyed and burned dozens of enemy villages. But this warrior was a close friend of their Oneida chief, Skenandoah and that preacher Kirkland. He had to placate the man otherwise there might be consequences.

Grey Eyes watched the soldiers move slowly into the remains of the village. Like fools they had burned the storehouses filled with corn, food they might very well want for themselves this winter. But these Americans had come a long way from Valley Forge, they were an army now. This would be his seventeenth winter, and the saddest time of his life ... he had buried his father in the summer.

Fierce Beaver had fallen in a place called Newtown, south of the river that fed the sacred falls. Their friend Trent had been killed beside him in a hail of musket balls. The Americans had won that battle which crushed the rebellious Iroquois who were supporting the British forces. It had been a warrior's death for Fierce Beaver, but he had lingered on the threshold for days. Grey Eyes had been with him in those final moments and then laid him to rest.

But he had died a pagan, worshiping the old ways of the people. Grey Eyes knew there would be no heaven for his father and yet knew his spirit was at rest with the Great Mother. It was hard to balance these thoughts, but he had refused to be baptized like his son. Harder still because Grey Eyes had finally been told the great secret of the Pebbles family.

"Before I die you must promise to do something for the people," Fierce Beaver had told him. "It has nothing to do with your new Christian beliefs; it is the legacy of our people I speak of."

And Grey Eyes had been told about the stone which lay not too many miles from where he now stood. "It will sleep in the ground until you bring it back." But he didn't want anything to do with it, not now ... not if he could ever help it.

It was just a silly superstitious bit of pagan worship, or so he had come to believe. Maybe his father had understood these feelings for his final words spoke about that. "If the task is too great for you, then tell your children it is theirs to perform. The Onyota'aka must know of its existence, it is the duty of our family to see it restored to a place of reverence."

Grey Eyes had carried these thoughts around in his head for many moons and he tried to reject them, but the dreams would not allow him to let it go. They had begun after his father's death; he was helpless to stop them. In his mind he had seen the standing stone and the clans gathered around it in worship. And he had seen his father and the warriors lay it to rest in the ground so it would not be found.

"Do not fear what you will see in your mind," Fierce Beaver had told him before he died. "It is the ancestors speaking to us. It is a reminder of your commitment to our family and the old ways. The Spirit Warrior dwells within us; I have been having visions of his greatness since my hands touched that stone. When the time comes he will guide you in the things you must do."

But the stone's grave was on Seneca land and they were at war, Grey Eyes knew it was useless to think of going there. The war had taken his father and it had made him fight even harder. He had sent the message back to his village, but he had no time to go console his mother. How weary he was of all this fighting and he prayed it would all be over soon. He would return to his village and find a mate, raise his own children. Maybe that would make the dreams stop.


On to Chapter Nine

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"A Warrior's Promise" is © 2010 by Chris James.
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