Chapter 1

How would you react if someone dug up your dead relatives?

(True)
In Kentucky, before 1992, no enforceable laws pertaining to the desecration of Native American burial grounds existed in that state. I was honored to be included with the Native people that gathered, from every corner of the United States, to protest the destruction of their ancestral sacred soil. In part, because of this direct action, the law 525.115 was passed.

But what if�

It has always been illegal to dig up occupied graves in church cemetaries, but somebody is doing it anyway.



CHAPTER 1


��������Shane rolled over and grappled with the ringing telephone. He was annoyed at being awakened from a dream that wouldn't be remembered and it could be heard in his voice.
��������"Hello!"
��������"Hey, don't be grouchy with me. I'm just letting you know that Little Ray is running around like a pissed-off Banty rooster."
��������"Oh hell, I guess I'm late again."
��������"Yeah, that would be a good guess, and I would guess that you had best hurry while you still gotta job. If it's not already too late."
��������Shane thanked Hal for the wake-up call and rolled out of bed. He had moved to Kentucky four months ago, due to a transfer, and had been assigned to the road-crew. To him, it was just a paycheck and an opportunity to experience something different from South Dakota. While hopping around on one leg, trying to dress quickly, he remembered how Hal had been the first member of the road-crew to welcome him on his first day. Hastily tying the leather laces on his work boots, a slight grin showed on his face when he thought that Hal might also be the first to speak to him on his last day. Slapping a cap on his head only covered a fraction of the sins of a bed-head, but that was the best he could do before running to his pickup.
��������On the drive to the road construction site, the deep rumble of his pickups' V8 engine created an almost hypnotic trance in his mind. Without realization or understanding, his mind made the journey back in time to shortly after his high school graduation. It skipped past his unfortunate marriage, settled on his career choice, and proceeded to nag at him. Shane had always wanted to build---something, anything, that he could be proud of. But unconscientiously, he felt as though he was destroying nature, and there is no pride in that.
��������Arriving at the work-site only forty minutes late, Shane was both surprised and pleased at making such good time. Climbing up to the seat on the huge bulldozer, he saw Little Ray, his foreman. The boss man was looking back at him and tapping on his wristwatch to let Shane know, that he knew, Shane was late. Shane simply smiled and waved at the foreman before starting the giant diesel engine.
��������Giving the engine some time to warm up, he looked ahead to where the new road was cutting through the rocks of a tree covered mountain top. He knew that in a few years motorists would see it as a beautiful thing, but he thought it was a shame to alter nature. Looking up at the nearly cloudless sky, Shane saw a Red Tail Hawk gliding on unseen air currents and felt shame because he knew that he was helping to destroy its home.
��������He grudgingly started forward with the huge blade cutting a deep slice of earth as it went. When there was a full scoop of dirt, rocks, and roots, he pushed it onto a mound that would be removed later and used to fill-in low spots. Shane backed the bulldozer without looking, but with a precision that comes from long hours of practice. Starting forward again, he lowered the blade and saw what appeared to be a human skull roll off the mound of dirt he had made. Shane stopped the dozer and jumped to the ground believing his worst fears had come true: he had dug up a grave.
Shane stood staring at the perpetual smile which seemed to be directed at him and lost the mellow mood the spring morning had given him. His mind went blank. He no longer smelled the exhaust fumes that had stuck to his clothes, and no longer felt the penetrating heat of the early morning sun. Someone shouting his name jarred his brain back to reality.
���������Yo Shane!� The voice of Little Ray called out in his slow southern drawl. �What the hell is wrong? Did ya break down?�
���������No,� Shane answered raising his voice over the sounds of the machinery. �I couldn�t be that lucky. I think I dug up a grave.�
��������Little Ray hurried over to see what Shane was talking about. Moving his lithe body with ease across the freshly scraped ground, he quickly arrived at the mound. Seeing the skull, he started laughing but quickly regained control of himself.
���������Ya had me kinda worried fer a minute. I thought maybe you had done found a dead body or somethin'. It�s jest a damn old Injun skull.� Little Ray reached down, unceremoniously picked up the skull, and looked it over using his thumb to rake away loose dirt. �Well, you found it, so I reckon it�s yours. It ain't in real good shape though. Aw hell, you kin prob�ly still get �bout, maybe, a hundred and fifty bucks fer it.�
��������Shane stared at his foreman in disbelief for a moment wondering if he had heard correctly. Towering over his foreman, he glared down at Little Ray and asked, "How do you know it's an Indian skull?"
��������"I jest know, that's all!" Little Ray was obviously annoyed that someone would question his knowledge on this subject.
��������Shane quickly realized that talking with his foreman would be a waste of time. He took the skull from Little Ray and walked to the nearby pickup truck where he took a shovel out of the back.
���������Hey, what the hell do ya think yer doin�?� Little Ray called out as Shane walked away from the pickup carrying both the skull and shovel.
��������Taking the skull into the trees, Shane started digging a hole before answering, �I�m gonna bury it back. �
���������Are ya crazy? I know ya cain�t afford ta jest throw away that much money! If�n you don�t want it, give it to me. I kin always find a use fer a few extree bucks.�
��������Shane finished burying the skull and patted the earth with the back of the shovel as though that finalized his decision. He walked back to the pickup, pitched the shovel into the back, and sat on the tailgate. He wiped the sweat from his face onto the sleeve of his tee shirt, and leaned over resting his forearms on bent knees. His bulging muscles strained the sweat-dampened cotton material of the shirt. Shane thought about what Little Ray had said. Yes, I could use the extra money, but I will not be a grave robber! He studied the nearby area and realized that Little Ray was right; this was definitely an old Native American graveyard. There were rocks stacked in unnatural patterns that could have only gotten that way with the help of man.
��������Little Ray ran his hand over his 1950�s-style, well-greased, dark brown hair slicking it back even tighter against his head. Then he stomped over to where Shane was sitting. With his anger flaring, he spat words at the dozer operator. �Hey! Get your a*s back ta work!�
��������Shane shook his head and said, �Not just no, but hell no! Look at those rocks over there. They didn�t just grow that way; they were put there. You're right, this is an Indian burial ground, and we got no right to put a road through it.� He breathed in the fresh spring air and wondered how anyone could be so shameful as to knowingly disturb the dead.
Little Ray glanced at the neatly stacked rocks, but obviously didn�t care how they got there. The shade of redness in his suntanned face showed the degree of anger he was feeling as he stood almost eye to eye with Shane. Little Ray's hands closed into fists at his side, his legs trembled in rage, and he spoke through a tight jaw.
�Lookie here, we got us a bindin� contract with the damn State to put a road through here. And they�ll likely come around most any day now ta have a look-see. We had damn well better be at that river when they get here or else they�ll chew my butt good, and if they chew on mine, you can bet I�ll chew on everybody else�s. �Sides, this here ain�t really a graveyard; it�s jest a few old dead Injuns that nobody gives a damn about.�
��������Shane stood allowing the full size of his body to appear menacing and looked down at the foreman through narrowed eyes. With his broad chest heaving, and his mouth forming a snarl, responded with, �I care!� The tone of his voice and the look on his face said a lot more. Although no more words were spoken, Little Ray heard the "Back off" loud and clear. Shane watched as Little Ray got into the company pickup and drove away. He climbed onto the dozer's seat, removed his cap, and sat there running his thick calloused fingers through his tangled sandy-brown hair. It don�t much matter who they was, right is right and wrong is wrong. Dead people should be left alone! As he sat on the dozer thinking about what should be done next, Shane noticed Little Ray coming back toward him.
��������The pickup slid to a stop and Little Ray yelled out of the window, �YOU�RE FIRED! Get yer stuff and get the hell outa here!�
��������Shane quickly stood and started to climb down. He chuckled as the pickup sped away letting the dust settle in all new places. He knew that Little Ray was intimidated by his size and thought that it was comical to watch him act all macho and then run away scared. Losing his job didn't come as a great shock or disappointment; he had expected it.
��������Shane's brain was working hard as he rationalized being fired. This isn�t the first, time and it likely won�t be the last, but I got to live what I believe.
Shane climbed down from the dozer and calmly pulled the wires off the fuel pre-heater knowing that it would make the dozer almost impossible to start. That might slow �um down for a while.

Author's Note

I am trying to decide if I should persue this. Is there a market? The character's thoughts are in a different font.

Reviews

[SR Urie]

Great write, John!
Yes, continue. Put us forked-tongue pale-faces in our place. This country has stomped on the Native American for way too long and in far too many horrendous ways. As progress lurches forward, 'mankind' spreads across the Earth like the parasitic virus that it is. But that concept is nothing new, so you have your work cut out for you. You need an angle, a concept that will catch the attention of everyone from people like 'Little Ray' to the state zoning comission to some of those left-wingers in LA. Maybe a ghost or two, or a bigfoot, or even maybe a big, messy scandal between 'Shane' and the white collar buraucrats of the area. You might have to kill off some likeable character or send some jerk to jail. But you have a great start, sir. BZ

[ljc]

This chapter is engaging from the start. I enjoyed this chapter very much. The character is interesting and the read flows.

[Drea]

Yes John you should absolutely persue this!
I could be biased with a BA in anthropology and being in agreement with the main character. Yeah figure that one out. Maybe its the BA in psyche and all the work in metaphysics. My bone lab class was admittedly really fascinating but spiritually it lingered on me. I'd like to know for certain the bones I was studying were donated like my grandmother did hers. I know that was not always the case with ancient native American bones and quite frankly I have no desire to disrespect or disturb those spirits.
There's a reason graveyards have walls around them. It isn't so much to keep us out as it is to keep any that are having trouble moving beyond in.
Just because a burial site is olde and without walls does not mean it has any less spiritual power. In point of fact it has a great deal more. It has had time to dwell with the trees and earth and become a part of the surroundings and should be respected once it is known to be there.

I have to tell you something a bit funny about your tale. I could almost see that strip of highway you were talking about in this chapter. I thought of I-71 and the hill as you are coming out of Kentucky and into Cincinnati. How it cuts through the hills and then opens up over the Ohio river and into this great view of the city. I grew up in Cincinnati and worked in northern KY and only moved to Colorado when I was 25.
So I can't help but wonder if this is the stretch of highway you are talking about.

I'd also love to send this story along to my mother who used to work at the Cincinnati Natural History Museum but has since retired if that is OK.

[mick weller]

That is so well written that you make the rest of us think it so easy I'm sure...
persue this..? if other projects aren't weighting you down, that is
surely it's better to have a finished work than have it rattling around in your head?
good read
thanks

[Carrie Montgomery]

interesting story.
"persue this"...yes , please do.