Dupont Circle was filled with people on this warm July morning. Couples with smiles on their faces, some with children, but most were gay or lesbian. The morning of the Glorious Fourth, always an exciting time here in the Nation's Capital. The only other summer event that made these people in the Circle come alive was Pride Day the month before.

The chess players were out early to grab a seat at one of the tables around the outer perimeter; some of those games would go on all day. The trickle of water from the fountain gave the Circle a lively sound. Men and women on rollerblades dodged traffic in the street, but the flow of cars was muted by the holiday.

A wooden bench followed the curve around the Circle and it was already filled with people. A lone young man sat quietly, garnering the occasional glance in a place where all handsome men were subject to glances. This one had long black hair past his shoulders and his muscular body filled out the plain white tee he was wearing.

Ronny was ignoring the looks, it was nothing new and not something he would ever encourage. His face was composed, he was a little pensive ... waiting for something or someone. A familiar face appeared in the crowd and he stood, a smile was followed by a hug and a kiss. Nothing unusual in this place of personal freedom.

Mark was dressed in a suit, looking like one of the businessmen who worked in the buildings surrounding the circle, but little business was being conducted today.

"Been waiting long?" Mark asked.

"I came early," Ronny replied. "How did the meeting with the directors go?"

"Very well, everything is set for two o'clock. I was the most overdressed person there."

"Aw, you look good in a suit. But it's a holiday; we should have figured no one would be dressed up. Two o'clock, good, we have time for lunch. Let's go home so you can change," Ronny said.

They walked up Connecticut Avenue to Kramerbooks and bought coffee. It was only ten in the morning but the tourists were already out and heading down to the Mall for the festivities. Red, white, and blue was seen everywhere. They took Q Street over to Seventeenth and turned up the street.

This was definitely a gay neighborhood because mixed in with the red, white and blue were the rainbow flags on display in just about every business. Mark smiled as they walked the two blocks to the condo, and then it was a short elevator ride to the fifth floor.

The condo apartment still had the slight smell of new paint; they had only been in it for two months. So much had transpired since that summer three years before and only now had the events come to a head. The best things in life take time, Mark mused, and how true that was.

Back then the sacred stone had been their complete focus, it still was but for different reasons. The going had been rough right from the start, but then the stone had lain there for ages, it was in no hurry to be unearthed.

The box beneath the hearthstones in Granny Pebbles old house had revealed a wealth of objects, including the all important document with George Washington's signature. That was a major find which opened the floodgates of territorial squabbles and ownership disputes which had only recently been settled in court.

Of more interest to the family sitting in the room that day were the small objects of Oneida historical importance the box revealed. A precious and very brittle corn husk doll emerged which Clarence wouldn't allow anyone to touch until they had donned latex gloves. They lined up specimen boxes of all different sizes to hold the artifacts.

A knife and war axe which had probably belonged to Grey Eyes, a medicine pouch which probably came from his father, some coins and arrowheads. But the largest object in the box was Fierce Beaver's bow and a quiver of five arrows. The reverence for these ancient pieces was evident in the eyes of those present.

Clarence had carefully untied the beaver skin, amazed that the leather hadn't cracked in all these years. The deer skin inside was dry and supple to the touch as he carried it in to the kitchen table and ever so slowly unrolled it. Mark had run out to the camper for Clarence's camera gear, they had to photograph this thing right now.

"I will only allow this piece of paper to have five minutes of exposure to the air and then it must be sealed again," Clarence said. "Once we get it back to the lab under controlled conditions it will be better able to survive, but I know you all want to see it now."

Mark held down the edges of the deerskin as Clarence unrolled it to reveal the yellowed piece of paper within. They were all drawn to the fine, hand printed script and the signature at the bottom.

"This is real history," Mark said as Clarence picked up his camera and began taking photos.

"Imagine the fingerprints we can lift from this document," Clarence said. He gave Sally a smile. "Your ancestors were the last people to touch this."

Sally nodded. "I am so grateful to you both for bringing us this joy."

"Hey, what about me?" Ronny said, and they all laughed.

"Of course, without you none of this would have happened," Clarence said. He took one last photo of Ronny looking down at the document. "Okay, let's seal it back up."

The box also contained a pipe, a small pouch of corroded musket balls and what must have been gunpowder.

"I wonder where the musket went?" Mark asked.

"No trace, maybe we'll find it in the cellar," Clarence said. "I need to call the office, and then talk to Neil." He turned to Warren and Sally. "With your permission I would like to send these objects to the Smithsonian lab in Washington. They need to be preserved immediately and they will be safe there, I'll give you a receipt for each piece."

"Sure, that sounds fine," Warren said. "Sally?"

"Do they still belong to us?" Sally asked.

"Absolutely, you are not transferring ownership whatsoever. My office will send a bonded carrier up here, there will be a chain of custody for everything to keep it safe." Clarence sighed. "Now the hard part begins. What probably lies over in the mound will be the real source of problems. Do you have a lawyer?"

"Lawyer? No ... we never needed one before," Warren said.

Mark smiled. "I know a good one, but he doesn't come cheap ... he's my father."

Clarence nodded. "I hope he has experience with the government."

"He does," Mark said. "What do you think is going to happen?"

"Warren needs to contact the Seneca chief he knows so we can begin the search. Once the object is found then we'll need permission to dig, that will involve a federal bureau, Indian Affairs most likely. Once the Seneca have satisfied themselves that what we have is a genuine artifact they'll try to make a claim.

"The document from George Washington will put a stop to any claims until it can be authenticated and land rights disputes are solved ... "

"But it's on their reservation," Warren said.

"It wasn't when the stone was buried, it was open territory which first passed into the hands of the Oneida as the Seneca moved west and then it should have become Pebbles family property if Congress approved Washington's request. This will all take years in court to decide and all I want is one lawyer and a good judge to give us what we need."

"What do you mean?" Sally asked. "What will happen to the stone?"

"It will go to the Smithsonian for safekeeping; we can't leave it in the ground. It's too valuable to leave out in the open."

"Clarence ... we can't do that," Ronny said, and everyone turned to look at him. "It's supposed to be restored to the original place, I have to find that."

Clarence nodded. "I knew that was coming. Once we know the stone is in that mound we'll go look, I promise."

But would take several months before Clarence could keep that promise. Warren had contacted Terry Hunter and said there was a scientist sitting in his driveway who wanted to examine the mound, he did not say why. Terry was over at the house an hour later.

"It's been years since anyone wanted to look at that old pile of dirt," Terry said. The chief reminded Mark of Russel. A quiet unassuming man who owned the convenience store they had passed on the way in. There were several dozen Seneca families spread out around the area, he didn't mind Clarence investigating the mound long as they weren't going to disturb the peace.

"I heard about that radar stuff," Terry said. "Takes pictures underground I guess."

"Something like that, the images are based upon density returns to the scanner."

"Thanks for telling me, but I don't understand a word of that," Terry laughed. "If you find a pot of gold down there it's mine, lost it years ago."

"Okay, all the gold is yours," Clarence said.

Mark and Clarence borrowed a wheelbarrow from Warren and took the large yellow box over to the mound. The case was lined with foam since the equipment was delicate. The head of the unit was a wheel device that preceded a small sled pushed along the ground with a cable attached to the computer module.

"The wheel measures distance so the program knows where we are. We'll lay a grid of strings out along the top and run our searches inside each one. You can watch the monitor screen if you want, but it will give us a printout as well," Clarence said.

"How deep does it look?" Mark asked.

"Depends upon the soil and the amount of moisture. Good dry soil, maybe ten feet. But if it's thick heavy clay we'd only get a return of several inches. I'm just happy we're looking for a large piece of stone because that will be pretty obvious."

"What if this is a grave, will we see bones?" Ronny asked.

"I don't know, but I doubt it. The mound is several thousand years old, most of that will have decayed by now. But if there are metal artifacts we'll get a return off those. At least the unit profiles the finds; we'll know how deep they are. Your stone should be right at the top."

Terry and Warren watched them lay out string and soon lost interest, walking back up the road to the house. Sally and the kids stuck around a while longer, but they left as well. Ronny said he wasn't going anywhere.

"I don't suppose you know exactly where it is, do you?" Clarence asked, and Ronny shook his head. "Doesn't matter, we need to scan the whole mound anyways." And Clarence went to work.

The printout showed various bumps and squiggles at depths six to eight feet down, a good sign Clarence thought, the soil wasn't too dense. Mark became anxious as they approached the center of the mound forty minutes later. And then he saw it.

"There it is," Mark yelped and Ronny walked over.

They watched the profile of a large object barely a foot below ground, and the image kept scrolling out on the paper. Clarence didn't stop moving until Mark yelled that the image had disappeared.

"Goodness, that has to be fourteen feet long," Clarence said. He noted the image ran from grid seven into eight, just about in the middle. "I'm going to move over a foot and scan again so we can determine how wide this thing is."

"How are we ever going to move such a large stone?" Ronny asked.

"A dozen warriors placed it here, but we could use a crane I suppose," Mark said.

"That might break it," Clarence said. "I'll have the riggers build a cradle and we'll dig that in underneath. Better yet, maybe we ought to lift it out by hand and place it in a cradle."

"I have to remove the spirit protections first, I don't want anyone to get hurt," Ronny said.

"What kind of hurt?" Mark asked.

"I don't know ... I don't want to find out."

Clarence nodded. "I agree, we'll do it your way."

He spent the next two hours scanning the rest of the mound and they found some interesting bumps at greater depths. It was not something they would pursue; the mound would get disturbed enough when they removed the stone. They packed up the equipment and wheeled it back to the camper. The only sign of their presence was the grid of strings, but Clarence wasn't about to tell anyone where the stone lay.

"So?" Warren asked when they returned.

"We'll need that lawyer now," Clarence said, and Warren smiled.

The summer turned into fall and the stone remained untouched. Mark contacted his father who seemed surprised at the call. But he attended a meeting Clarence held at the Smithsonian and viewed the various artifacts they had in safe storage.

"So you would like me to represent the Oneida people?" Mr. Ryan asked.

"One family in particular, the Pebbles," Mark said. He had brought Ronny along for the day and now he turned to the boy. "This is one of them, Ronald Pebbles-Boden, he's very important to the case."

His father nodded. "He's still a minor, but I'm sure you'll introduce me to the adults involved."

"I thought you might like to get the whole story before I turned them loose on you," Mark said. "But we now have a new piece to the puzzle, and it's in their favor."

"The Library of Congress has a record of the Land Ordinances of 1785 which dealt with the distribution of land grants west of the Appalachians," Clarence said. "By that time New York State was pretty well spoken for except in the area we're concerned about. With a little research we came up with this."

He handed over copies of several documents. "Page one is a British land survey conducted in 1749. The area in question is marked. Page two is a copy of a letter written by George Washington, which is our major piece of evidence. The original is downstairs being carefully cleaned and restored. But page three is a copy of a notation in the journals of the Continental Congress dated April of 1785. Just three sentences but everything I was hoping to see is on that page."

Mark's father turned to the indicated page and looked at the highlighted words.

"In Congress, a letter to be included in the record. Request of land grant in western New York State unclaimed territories to Oneida Indian family named Pebbles for ten thousand acres per G. Washington. Matter approved and attached to current legislation on Ohio Land Ordinance 1785 as reward for war service to this nation."

"So the land was granted to the Pebbles family, did they take possession?" Mr. Ryan asked.

"They did, for about ten years and then it was taken away by a treaty," Clarence said. "The ten thousand acre grant was never nullified, the family was allowed to keep a hundred acres along a river bottom that wasn't considered important. The state did that without consulting the federal government, nothing was said at the time.

"The harsh part of that land grab was that the majority of it was given to the enemies of the Oneida, the Seneca people. The Seneca fought against the colonies in the war; the treaty was unjustified in the minds of the Oneida."

"You'd have me dig up an old grudge?" Ryan asked.

"No, I would like you to assure the Oneida that the land rights were legally theirs and were stolen. The reason behind that is that something they once owned is still on that property and they want it back now."

"This sounds like a simple property dispute ... "

"It's not, Dad. The Seneca don't even know what they have sitting up there. It's been buried for two hundred years."

His father smiled. "Okay, you have me as counsel ... now you better explain what I'm walking into."

"As I said, Ronny is here for a reason ... " Mark said, and they explained it all once again.

A year passed as the land grant was researched and authenticated, but finally Tom Ryan took it to a friend at the Justice Department for an opinion.

"Tom, you must be kidding," Assistant Attorney General Frank Sullivan said. "These two tribes are going to fight over a rock?"

"Not any rock, Frank ... The Rock," Ryan said. "If someone stole the Washington Monument and hid it in their backyard we'd move heaven and earth to find it. But this is worse, this rock is a sacred object to the Oneida and it's taken them two hundred years to find it. They can't say the Seneca stole it, but they don't care. It's on land that was theirs and they want it back."

It wasn't the complete truth, but it was the story they decided to use and stick to. Tom had clearly been concerned about how the stone had been found; he didn't think spiritual visions would go over well in court. Their best course would be denial of that knowledge.

"Okay, I get the picture. So what are you planning to do?" Frank asked.

"We want the Federal Government to apologize for allowing that land to be given away. We want you to admonish the State of New York for doing something illegal."

"Oh crap, and in an election year too. Why are you doing this to me, Tom?"

"Because you're a nice guy, and you're a fair man, Frank. All this Oneida family wants is the rock back. In fact they only have to move it two hundred yards and it will be back on their legally owned property."

"And then what are they going to do with this important rock?" Frank asked.

Tom Ryan smiled. "Like any bunch of good citizens they're going to donate it to the Smithsonian."

The crew that assembled outside of Basom in mid-June almost six months later was composed of scientists, excavators, students and several native men, four shamans in traditional garb. A carefully selected media presence represented the public, including the Public Television people who were there to make a documentary.

No less than four directors from the Smithsonian were on the site, as were four lawyers representing the various entities. Tom Ryan had the pertinent court orders in his pocket but they wouldn't be needed. The Federal judge who had signed them was also present, he was a Native American.

The governor of New York had sent his representative and the House member from the local Congressional district was on the site. But the best thing Mark noted was the Seneca and Oneida women's groups that had pitched in and virtually started a restaurant down by the entrance to the reservation. It made sense, there were a hundred mouths to feed and they might be there for days.

Janet and the kids had set up a lemonade stand, while Warren and his wife gave tours of the house at five dollars a pop. The family cleared three hundred dollars the first day and there would be more people on the way.

Clarence had spread the word through his tribal connections. He considered what Ronny was about to do as one of the most important sacred ceremonies to take place in a decade. And so the digging had begun, slowly, deliberately.

"Whatever you do don't touch that stone," Clarence had said to the workers.

Removing six inches of soil took all day. Many of the watchers drifted away which was what Clarence hoped. The shaman elders sat in prayer on the ground at the four corners of the mound; they would hold a vigil until the stone was moved. None of this was lost on the film crew; they had cameras running most of the day.

On day two they dug deeper until one of the diggers struck a bit of decayed leather rope. "Time to slow down," Clarence admonished. "We're within a few inches."

A young man from the Indian Studies program at SUNY Buffalo was the first one to brush away soil and discover rock. "I have it," He yelled and digging stopped. Clarence examined the trace of stone and smiled. "It's granite ... that must be it."

Long handled paint brushes with soft bristles removed the soil covering and the carvings were slowly revealed. Once the whole surface was cleared Clarence allowed the camera crew in to document it closely.

"It's magnificent," Clarence said, and motioned for Mark and Ronny to climb the slope while he took a dozen photos with his digital camera.

"This is the stone of your ancestors," Mark said. "It's beautiful."

Ronny nodded and stared in awe. His eyes beheld the two loops where he would place his hands and it made him shudder. "It's scary, isn't it?"

"You have the ability," Mark said. "Remember the dreams, this is your legacy...you are the Spirit Warrior."

Ronny nodded. "I am ... when will we do it?"

"I think the television people would like us to hold a symbolic ceremony," Clarence said.

"Dawn," Ronny said. "Fierce Beaver laid his hands on the stone at sunrise."

Clarence nodded. "How appropriate, the beginning of a new day."

The workers lay a sheet of plastic over the stone; they would be back at eight in the morning. The elders would stand guard all night; Clarence didn't even have to ask. They retired to the tents spread across the lawn at Warren's house where a tent city had begun to blanket the neighborhood.

Clarence downloaded his photos and they all stared at the various carvings. Some were barely visible on the surface of the stone, others appeared three dimensional.

"I see three distinct levels of carving, but the shape of the stone itself is interesting," Clarence. "Look here at how smooth this area is, while here it looks rough. The original carvers must have cut this out of a larger rock with hand chisels and then used rubbing blocks to make a smoother surface. It's almost like they didn't finish in time before the carvings began."

He pointed at a line of shapes. "The runes you spoke of begin here and down here it looks like some of these animal shapes were cut in over the runes. But these swirls ... look at the whorls in this one, they run clockwise ... and this one is counter-clockwise. I wonder what that means, or is it just a random pattern?"

"If they traveled thousands of miles to get here I would imagine none of this is random," Mark said.

"Yes, I agree," Clarence said. "I need to send these photos in to the archive, maybe they can identify what we see here. Is anyone starved? We skipped lunch today."

"I'm not hungry," Ronny said. "I'm not going to eat until tomorrow."

Clarence sighed. "I understand. If you're fasting then I won't eat either."

"Then that makes three of us," Mark said.

Clarence spent a lot of time online, sending photos to this person and that, asking questions and seeking advice. By nightfall his queries were getting a response.

"My friend Lars in Norway says the runes we have are authentic, he says he'll do his best to translate them for us. But Dr. Garrity in Dublin says the Celtic designs are of ancient origin. He says they're called a'deasail which is a typical Gaelic blessing. The fact that there are four spirals in the design is indicative of the four directions, much like our Native American lore."

Clarence turned to Ronny. "Sunrise is at five twenty-five tomorrow, but do you know what day it is?" Ronny shook his head. "It's the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. I haven't drawn attention to that because it was a pagan custom to celebrate, the Celts called it Litha. Everyone from Egypt to what is now modern day Russia celebrated the solstice. But our people celebrated it too.

"From South America all the way up here, the native people marked that day as special. The sun gives us life; the Oneida would know her as Sky Woman. The Cahokia civilization who lived on the banks of the Mississippi two thousand years ago celebrated the day. In fact, they constructed what in archeological circles is known as Woodhenge, a solar observatory made of wood much like Stonehenge in England."

"Oh wow," Ronny said.

"Yes, wow," Clarence said. "What you will do tomorrow morning has significance to many people in different ways. Janet brought something for you to wear in the ceremony and I think you should, the image will be captured on film. You represent the Oneida people, Ronny, and hereafter when that stone is mentioned you will be too."

"But I'm nobody," Ronny said.

"That's not true, and tomorrow you'll be famous," Mark said.

"You just say that because you love me," Ronny said and then he froze, he wasn't supposed to say that out loud.

Clarence smiled. "Its okay, Ronny, I've known for a long time. I study people for a living, and what I see between you two is a wonderful thing, it will only get better with time. Let me show you what Janet brought."

Traditional Oneida clothing had evolved over time, but this outfit was much like what a warrior would have worn in the time of Grey Eyes. The shirt was embroidered and decorated with beadwork, as was the breechcloth. The leggings and moccasins matched it well, and there was even a small hat with feathers in the Oneida style.

"You will look like a warrior," Clarence said. "And for a while you will be the Spirit Warrior, at least until the stone is laid to rest."

"We haven't found the original site," Ronny said. "You promised we'd look."

Clarence nodded. "I did, and I haven't forgotten. Tomorrow after the ceremony my people will dig the trench wider and deeper around the stone. They will do it by hand and it will take at least two days before we can lift the stone into the cradle. You said that you must take these sacred spirits inside yourself, I was hoping they would be able to help us find the original place where the stone once stood."

"Oh yeah, that makes sense ... you're so smart," Ronny said.

Clarence laughed. "I know some people who would argue with you, but thank you all the same. Now I think we should retire and get up early. If I can't eat then I would just as soon sleep, so good night."

Ronny carried the clothing back to the tent he was sharing with Mark and laid it out carefully on the chair.

"Do you still have that card with the prayer written on it?" Mark asked.

"I do, but I know it, I memorized it."

"I'm so proud of you," Mark said. "This is a brave thing you're about to do."

"I'm not afraid of the stone anymore. When this is done everyone will have peace in their hearts. I didn't mean to tell Clarence about us, it just slipped out."

Mark nodded. "He's a wise man, just like Russel and those other shaman sitting across the road."

"We better sleep, I need to get up early," Ronny said.

Ronny gave him a hug, a kiss and then curled up in his sleeping bag. Mark didn't know how the boy could fall asleep so easily, but he soon heard the soft snores. Amazing, he would have guessed Ronny would be up half the night, and yet he was at peace with all this.

He was proud of the boy; Ronny had come a long way in the past two years, especially for someone his age. At seventeen the boy had a mind that fit the strength of his body. Sally had agreed to leave him at Wainright under Mark's care, it was working out well. The school didn't confer high school diplomas, but at the end of the year Ronny could take the GED.

Sleep was elusive, but at some point Mark drifted off wondering if he would dream, but he didn't. Clarence had figured that once the stone was uncovered that the dreams would stop, the spirits would be at peace in Ronny's mind.

Around four in the morning Ronny awoke him with a kiss. Mark couldn't think of a more delightful way to wake up. Ronny dressed in his traditional clothing and Mark helped him sit the cap on his head with the feathers pointing in the right directions.

Clarence had never seen the images of Fierce Beaver, but he imagined what stepped out of that tent in the darkness wasn't far from what Ronny's ancestor looked like. Lanterns were lit around the small tent city. Warren and the family were just coming out the door and the film crew was awake as well.

Mark looked at Clarence and smiled. It was the first time he had seen the man in his traditional native dress, and it looked impressive. A black shirt covered in white shells and beads, a breechcloth that matched with red trim on the sides. He wore a red headband with a spray of feathers standing straight up in back. And there on his chest hung the medallion with the cowry shell, his badge of office in the Ojibwe medicine society.

A procession formed and walked down the driveway towards the reservation road. Ronny was quiet, somber feelings pervaded the assembled group as they approached the mound. It was nearly five and the sky in the east was turning lighter. At the top of the slope stood the shaman elders in a row, arms crossed as they awaited direction.

Ronny stood between Clarence and Mark looking up at the sky.

"It's almost time," Clarence said. "Let's give the camera crew a moment to set up. I have something that rightfully belongs to you; I didn't give it to the museum." He reached in his pocket and pulled out the small medicine bag that had been found in the box. Clarence hung it around Ronny's neck and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"This is a great day for all of us, past and present. Today you fulfill the promise your ancestors made to the spirits and you shall keep them safe. We'll go looking for that original site, but things have changed, it may not be there. If that is true we will give this stone a place of honor so millions of our people can come and share it's history. I am so proud to be here with you."

Ronny gave Clarence a hug and then did the same to Mark. The shaman figures atop the hill stood aside. Mark gestured to Warren and Sally, this was a Pebbles family affair, and they mounted the slope together.

Several boards had been laid across the trench midway down the length of the stone. Here in the semi-darkness the granite seemed alive with the carved figures of the animals and the rune writing barely catching the morning light.

Ronny stepped over onto the boards and stood looking down at the stone.

"I have come," He said softly. The sky was brighter now and the image of the sun slowly appeared through the trees to the east. Ronny faced that glowing ball of light and raised his arms before kneeling over the stone. Around him stood the witnesses to the moment and off in the distance the camera crew tried to be unobtrusive.

"Great Mother, give me the strength to protect your spirit stone," Ronny said aloud, his voice resounding in the cathedral of trees around the mound. "Draw forth the ancient spirits of our ancestors and let them rest in me until the stone is restored to its rightful place."

Ronny leaned down and placed his hands on the swirls of the ancient designs.

"Let the pale gods and all those who came after rest in peace until we return the stone to a place of honor on our soil. Banish the magic powers and throw them at our enemies, but allow the ancient wisdom within to live in me. I am thankful ... we are all thankful for your blessings." And then Ronny leaned down until he was almost falling into the trench and kissed the stone.

Mark would always wonder if he began to hallucinate at that point or if he really saw the spirits rise from the stone. Ronny sat up with his arms reaching towards the rising sun. His face was illuminated and filled with such joy. He seemed to embrace the spirits as they rose up and were absorbed into his body.

Mark remembered seeing some of them in the dreams, and like figures made of smoke they now appeared. The spirit of Ohni:ta Pebbles, Fierce Beaver and Grey Eyes seemed to enter the boy. But there were others, unfamiliar images, dozens of spirits belonging to the Oneida.

There was such a great feeling of awe and joy, feelings that made Mark want to cry out. Instead he looked over at Warren and Sally who were caught up in the moment with tears of happiness streaming down their faces.

Finally the sun climbed above the trees and lit the top of the mound. Ronny sat back on his haunches and looked down at the stone. Mark leaned forward and touched the boy's shoulder.

"It's done," Ronny said. "You can touch it if you want."

The invitation was there and Mark knew if he hesitated that Ronny would feel disappointed. Mark knelt down and ran his fingers over the carvings. Clarence joined them, giving Ronny a pat on the back.

"Did you see them?" Ronny asked.

Clarence nodded. "They are yours now, they knew you to be the Spirit Warrior and they entered your heart. What a great achievement this has been, thank you for sharing this with me."

Ronny looked back down at the stone. "It's not over, I want to know what it says on the stone ... will we ever know?"

Clarence shrugged. "We'll try to decipher the meanings; I'll have all the best experts take a look."

"Good," Ronny said. "Now you can dig, but I'm hungry."

Janet had a large breakfast laid out in the kitchen, as Ronny, Mark and Clarence sat down, but she looked concerned when she saw Warren and Sally walk in.

"What happened? You look ... terrible," She said.

"It was the most amazing thing ... a blessed thing," Warren said as he took a seat. "I don't know what I saw, but it felt wonderful."

Ronny smiled as Janet put a pile of pancakes in front of him. He wasn't going to say anything about his experience with the spirits. Maybe Clarence and Mark would understand, but not these people. His mother and grandfather had seen something but they weren't sure. Rather than have them scared Ronny had broadcast the joy he felt to those around him and it worked.

"After breakfast we'll go looking for the original site," Clarence said. "I think we should take advantage of Ronny's state of mind."

Ronny looked up and saw something in Clarence's eyes. What was it?

They drove out heading west. Clarence had commanded his GPS to take them towards Niagara Falls, New York. The back roads zigzagged them all over the place, but they were still headed towards the falls which came closer with every mile.

"Pull over," Ronny said, and Clarence did. Ronny got out and stood still for a minute before he smiled. "I can hear them. This is the right direction."

He got back in the Rover and Clarence drove on. "You hear the spirits?" Mark asked.

"No, I can hear the falls."

They were on Lockport Road now, heading into the north side of Niagara City. There were signs for the airport ahead. Mark turned around to ask Ronny a question and saw the boy was sitting there with his eyes closed.

"Clarence ... " Mark said.

"I see him."

"It's here," Ronny said, turning to point towards the airport. Clarence took the exit and drove towards the terminal building. "Over there," Ronny said.

Over there was the fence surrounding the runways of Niagara Falls International Airport. For security reasons they would not be allowed out there. Clarence pulled up next to the fence and they all got out, looking through the wire at the expanse of concrete.

"It's out there, I know it," Ronny said. "This used to be a forest and out there was a clearing where the stone stood ... that's all gone. What are we going to do?"

Clarence put a hand on Ronny's shoulder and they gazed at one another. "We knew the chances were not good, so much has changed in all these years. So many great archeological sites have been destroyed over the centuries, we call that progress. But we will take the stone into the museum and give it a place of honor, your spirits can then rest in peace."

Ronny sighed. "I suppose, if that's the only choice we have."

"It is the only choice. You now speak for all those spirits within you; they will heed your call and trust in you. I know ... I have my own spirits to carry," Clarence said.

"You do ... but how?"

"I am Midewiwin, to some that is enough to bring understanding. But for you I will explain, I am a spirit seeker. I have uncovered so many sacred places and felt the spirits dwelling there. It has been my privilege to give them peace." And Clarence tapped his chest.

Ronny's eyes grew large. "You ... you are a Spirit Warrior too?"

Clarence smiled ... a slow sad expression. "We are the same and yet very different, my young friend. Our purpose is noble and for that we are blessed. But we will give your stone a place and you will send the spirits back to it. I will always carry some of the spirits within me for they have no place of rest."

Ronny nodded. "The Great Mother has blessed us both."

Clarence nodded in return. "She has."

They had come this far and Clarence drove them on into Niagara Falls State Park. The area was filled with tourists, but two Native Americans in full native dress gathered a lot of attention. From Prospect Point the view of the falls was spectacular. Ronny's disappointment at the airport was tempered by the incredible power he could see in the churning waters of the falls.

"You can only imagine how our ancestors felt when they first saw this place," Clarence said above the roar of falling water. "The Great Mother could not give us a greater display of her powers."

"It makes me feel small," Ronny said.

Clarence nodded. "Humility in the face of such beauty and power should bring peace to your mind."

Mark stood back and smiled as several tourist families asked to be photographed with the two Indians. Clarence and Ronny were quite gracious and then they quickly retreated to the Rover before this became a trend.

The stone was loaded in a cradle that week and transported to Washington. Throughout the fall and winter of that year it was carefully examined, photographed and cleaned. On the fourth floor of the museum Clarence had several offices and storerooms removed to make way for a new exhibit.

In Easton, at the Wainright Institute, Ronny and Mark went on with their lives, but with an objective in mind. Ronny finally sat for his high school equivalency exams and passed quite easily. Ever since he had touched that stone his mind was like a sponge, it was if he could almost see the answers to that test in his mind.

Spring brought them choices to make, the easiest being how big a cake to make for Ronny's eighteenth birthday. Katherine and Doc were so proud of their best student, and this time when the candles were lit on the cake Sally was there to share that joy.

The exhibit of the Oneida standing stone opened that first week of June to a great fanfare of publicity. The local PBS station broadcast the special on the discovery of the stone and the mystery surrounding it. By then Mark and Ronny were installed in the condo on Seventeenth Street which had been purchased that spring.

Moving to the Nation's Capital had been an easy choice for Mark, and Ronny seemed pleased. The decision was greatly influenced by Clarence and the offer he'd made. Ronny would spend his summers working at the museum as a guide while he sought admission to George Washington University as an undergraduate.

The path for Mark was going to be a little more difficult; Clarence wanted the man on his staff. With that in mind Mark would begin working on his Master's program. Clarence would see to his course of study since he knew most of the major academic leaders in town. It was a job and an education, Mark's father would be so proud.

The installation ceremonies for the stone were attended by hundreds of dignitaries from across the nation. Most of them were Native American, but there was a delegation from Sweden as well including their Ambassador. Clarence and the staff of the museum had created a very realistic setting for the stone, a clearing surrounded with trees. In it they had placed extraordinarily life-like figures of the Oneida people.

Ohni:ta Pebbles, Fierce Beaver and Grey Eyes were all given prominent places in the display along with a young Oneida boy who looked just like Ronny. The stone stood proud and tall in the rays of the artificial sun shining down on the clearing, it would become a favorite of millions of tourists over the years.

Ronny sat on the bed after changing into a sport shirt as Mark changed into more comfortable clothing.

"Who besides Clarence is going to be there today?" Ronny asked.

"He only invited Russel. No one will talk about what happens today," Mark said. "They're going to close the fourth floor at two and give us half an hour for the ceremony."

"That should be enough time. And then they'll seal the doors, right? Clarence knows how important that is," Ronny said.

"The exhibit will be sealed as you requested."

"Okay, I'm ready," Ronny said.

"You're always ready," Mark said.

They came together in a hug ... a kiss. Their bodies had changed considerably; perhaps it was the workouts they shared down in the basement gym. But the eyes, those soft brown eyes never changed, to Mark they only grew deeper.

The affections they had shared for years had been allowed to blossom. In all that time Mark had never felt their love was unequal in any way. Even when Ronny's age gave new meaning to their love there was no sense that he was using the gift he held inside.

They were men, gay, and that made certain demands upon their bodies. For such a young man Ronny was patient in love and in life. The past was behind him and nothing would keep him from enjoying the future with Mark. His heritage had given him great power and a sense of accomplishment. And now that power would be given back to the Great Mother, it remained to be seen how that might change his life, but Ronny wasn't concerned, he had everything he wanted.

They had lunch at Zorba's, only this time Ronny ordered the Pastitsio right away. They looked at people on the street, seeing some familiar faces pass them by. After living in such a diverse neighborhood for a while life was beginning to feel comfortable. After lunch Mark hailed a cab and they were driven down to the Mall.

Clarence met them at the employee entrance and all three clipped their ID badges on their shirts.

"Goodness, Clarence, I'm sorry we had to do this on a holiday," Ronny said.

"Me too, but the fewer people know about this the better," He replied.

They walked to the small break room where Russel awaited them.

"Shekóli, Ronny," Russel said.

That brought a smile and Ronny gave the man a hug. "Hey, Russel, it's good to see you again."

They talked about the television special for a while and then Clarence looked at his watch. "They ought to have the floor cleared by now, let's go up."

They boarded the elevator which let them off on the fourth floor. Ronny walked over to the Peace Tree and stared at it for a moment. Then he slowly turned and looked across the hall at the stone in its enclosure.

"How wonderful that they should share the same space," Ronny said.

"I have something new to show you before we go in," Clarence said. "It's over here."

They followed him over to an alcove beside the glass wall of the exhibit. There on display was a bow, five arrows and a war axe. The plaque at the base of the window explained that these weapons had belonged to Fierce Beaver, Chief of the Oneida Bear Clan and his son Grey Eyes.

Below it was a true copy of the document bequeathing land to the Oneida in return for their service in the Revolutionary War, the name of George Washington was quite prominent.

"It's fitting that these items should be on display within sight of the sacred stone," Clarence said. "No one would believe the spirits will soon rest inside that hunk of granite, we'll keep it our little secret."

They moved over in front of the exhibit and there Ronny looked down on the plaque he knew so well. He should, his name was on it.

"Discovered near Basom, New York, 2009, by Ronald Pebbles-Boden. This sacred stone of the Oneida people, members of the Iroquois Confederacy in upstate New York, pre-dates written history ... "

Clarence had said the Smithsonian was not ready to announce that the stone proved ancient Vikings had traveled the lakes of North America long before anyone landed on its shores to the east. The runes were still under study, science moved slowly, methodically. But eventually they would come up with an answer. Ronny could only smile; they all knew what it would be.

They entered the exhibit through a small door in a security room on one side. Not a soul was in sight on the whole floor. Single file they made their way through the figures kneeling on the ground and past the display fire to the base of the stone.

Ronny opened the collar of his shirt to pull out the medicine bag which hung around his neck. The two loops of the design on the stone were right before him, it would be easier this time.

The others stood in a semi-circle around him and Ronny looked up at the overhead lights which did seem bright as the sun. He reached out and lay his hands upon the stone and felt a tingle in his fingers. Yes, the spirits were ready to return to their place of rest.

"Great Mother we have given a final resting place to your sacred stone. The spirits may return to guard it, their power may be restored. With joy in my heart I return them to your keeping, Great Mother. The Spirit Warriors have kept their promise. Thank you for your blessings."

Ronny bowed his head and once again kissed the stone. All around them there was a sudden gust of air and in it appeared the smoky figures of the ancient spirits. Mark knew he wasn't hallucinating this time, this was real. The spirits whirled around the stone and slowly entered, disappearing without a sound.

"It is done," Ronny said, and Mark could hear the sound of relief in those words. The boy stood up and smiled. "My heart feels a lot lighter now; they have gone back to the Great Mother."

Clarence nodded. "The stone has its spirits back; we will never unlock that door."

It was fitting that the spirits should return to the stone on this day. For although the facts about those carvings were still unproven, they represented a huge piece of American history. The Oneida people were true friends to these United States as the nation was being born all those many years ago.

George Washington saw the value of their commitment and service to the new nation and spoke highly of the Oneida. But in his later years as President he would change his mind and see the Indian as an obstacle to the settler's westwards expansion. It was unfortunate that his legacy did not remain true to the promises he had made to Fierce Beaver. From this change of heart the natives who had helped found the colonies, and then a nation, would suffer irreparable harm.

But tonight, in the center of the Nation's Capital, a Native American boy celebrated his own personal freedom with the man he loved. It wasn't easy being both an Indian and gay, but as Clarence had said, all good things will happen for the best in their own time. The sacred stone represented time itself, and in his heart Ronny knew a part of himself was in that rock ... and always would be.


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