Mohegan: Native Instincts, page 12
Jake turned around angrily. "Be like this? Henry is my best friend." Jake sneered. "But he's impulsive and a idiot, he never thinks about the consequences of his ac ons! Someone has to look after his best interests."
"We are! We don't want your friend to get caught up in all this. We don't want him to die or worse, be made into a vampire. We're not the enemy." Jake looked away, bi ng his tongue. Shuey rolled his eyes, and stepped closer to Jake. "Come on. You need to relax. It's a private ma er between Alpha and his mate; you can't s ck your nose between them."
Jake pushed Shuey away. "You'd do anything Mohegan told you, wouldn't you?" Shuey snarled, "Are you going to throw my loyalty in my face? Jake, you know who I am. When you're done pou ng, why don't you come and find me." Shuey jumped onto his Yamaha. The engine roared loudly as he sped onto the road, kicking up dirt and dust behind him.
Jake frowned, watching him go. "Well fuck you too, Shuey!" Jake yelled as he kicked a stone across the road.
The walk back to his house was long one, and as he walked he kept thinking of how he would strangle Shuey when he saw him again. When he finally arrived, he was surprised to see a large white coat hanging there. The smell of cigare es wa ed through the air, a mix of his mother's Camels and a stranger's Marlboro.
Sammy was si ng at the kitchen table with his mother and stepfather si ng together on the opposite side. Doc Peters was smoking his cigare e at the head of the table, looking as though something foul was under his nose. Jake's mother was clearly upset, her eyes red and her expression forlorn. Doc Peters looked up as Jake entered the room, blowing smoke into the air. "Ah, I see young Jack has come back. Please have a seat."
"It's Jake." "Oh yes, my apologies." Doc Peters looked to his mother and stepfather, seeming to expect them to speak up. A er a moment of silence, Doc Peters cleared his throat. "I've just told your folks about a great opportunity the government has made available for families in your… situation."
"What are you talking about? Momma, what's going on?" Jake looked at his mother. Her cigare e hadn't been touched, and half of it was consumed by ash as it dangled just above her hand.
"Congress has been trying to pass bills that would disband reserva on communi es, er, Indian Relocation. Future generations need to be educated so they can, uh, fit in be er with the more urban demographic, um, with city folk." Doc Peters looked to Jake's parents, obviously trying to dumb down his language for them. "Really, this is the best decision you could have made. St. Agnes Academy will give Sammy the skills to help him in the real world. You're doing better by him."
Jake slammed his hands on the table. "You're sending him to one of those brainwashing schools?" Jake had heard about schools like St. Agnes, where they taught kids that everything their elders had taught them was blasphemous and wrong.
"Jake!" His stepfather yelled.
Jake sat down slowly, forcing himself to calm down. "You can't ship him off to a boarding school." Jake looked to Sammy. Sammy gulped, but so ly said, "I want to go, Jake, and there will be lots to do there. I'll really miss all of you, but from what Dr. Peters said, it sounds kinda nice. There will be a lake, horseback riding, and you get to learn about math and science. I'll be able to help other tribe boys who don't understand English."
"Sammy…" Jake stared at his brother in defeat. Sammy was too young to understand that white men in coats lied. Frustra ngly, his mother appeared to be buying the bullshit the doctor was spou ng. The reserva on had met about these ma ers before, and other tribe members had told of the nightmares perpetrated at the schools.
"Dr. Peters said, they helpin' people like us, lowerin' the cost." Jake's mother finally piped in. "A hundred dollars a year."
"That's almost two month's pay!" Jake turned to his stepfather, who looked embarrassed but said nothing. His mother spoke low, in Cherokee. "Your friend, the rich boy. He's always throwing money away, couldn't you just—"
Jake looked at his mother, shaking his head. "I can't believe this is happening." How could his mother expect him to ask Henry for money to send his brother to a brainwashing school?
Doc Peters put out his cigare e. "Well, I be er let the others know about this opportunity. I'll have the applica on papers sent here first thing tomorrow." He let himself out, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
"Sammy isn't even full tribe," Jake said bi erly. "Let me guess why you wouldn't send me off." His teeth shi ed and his vision shi ing into the familiar sepia tone. "Think I'd embarrass you, Momma? Who knows, maybe Sammy has the same disease as me." Jake knew they were afraid of his powers, especially his stepfather, who had made it a point to leave on vacations during the full moon.
"Sammy, go to your room," Jake's mother said. "But, Mom—"
"Now!"
"He's old enough; he should know what I am." Jake's voice was ge ng deeper, and his hand was twitching as it shi ed on the table. "What if he turns? He'll be miles away without anyone to help him figure any of this out."
"He's not like you!" his stepfather lashed out. "He's not some kind of monster." Sammy shook at his father's words, his hand going out to grab Jake's.
Jake smiled down at Sammy, his teeth shi ed into fangs. "Go on, Sammy. You shouldn't have to put up with your big brother's problems."
Sammy sniffed, and tears glistened in his eyes. "I don't understand." Seeing his brother looking so innocent and upset made Jake lose all of his nerve. His vision shi ed back to normal tones and his racing heartbeat slowed. "I know you don't understand now, but one day, you will." Jake hugged Sammy, kissing his cheek. "I'm sorry, I can't stay here. I'll be home soon okay?"
Jake went to his room, packing his bag with clothes and necessi es. Sammy watched from the doorway, the sound of their parents arguing in the kitchen about his disrespect audible behind him. He ruffled Sammy's hair as he left the house.
He le the driveway, then paused, surprised to hear his mother calling a er him. Jake turned to his mother, as she approached him. "Are you going to that man's house?"
"His name's Shuey, Momma, and I don't know." "I'm sorry," she said, tears falling down her cheeks. "I know you are, but you won't change. You don't act tribe, you don't understand my pack, my mate, or any of this. You'd rather be without me than try to understand it. You left me alone on nights when I was scared and alone, when I needed someone to tell me this was natural, and all you did was call me a monster."
"Look at it from my side—" "You have a new husband—a white husband— one you can't accompany to dinners or events because he's embarrassed of where you come from. You don't go to tribe mee ngs because you don't want to be associated with them. You have a son, one that can almost fit into white society, one that's smart, pure, and innocent. Then there's me, a werewolf in a homosexual rela onship with another werewolf." Jake shrugged. "There is no comparison. I understand your side, but I can't be what you want me to be."
"Jake…" She hiccupped, tears spilling down her face as she sobbed. "I love you. I do." "I know Momma. I know." Jake turned his back on her, and started up his motorcycle, stopping only a few blocks away to let his own tears fall. He cried for what felt like an hour, right up un l someone approached him.
"Jake?" The man asked, his boots kicking up dust from the road as he approached the bike. Jake looked up, wiping his eyes and seeing a blurry outline of a rugged older version of Henry. "Mr. Conner?"
"You all right boy?" Rodger asked, l ng his hat up to get a better look at him. "Yeah." Jake shook his head, trying to shake the tears off his face and wondering why Rodger was on the reservation.
Rodger put a large hand on Jake's shoulder. "Listen, I ain't gonna lie and say I ain't see ya crying like a woman." Rodger pa ed his shoulder. "But you know whatever's troubling your mind will pass. If you want to be a man, you go a suck up what makes you sad and do something about it. Hell, half the county would be full of sobbing men if we couldn't get out what we needed when we hunt. If I couldn't take down a three hundred pound buck, the old lady would drive me to tears."
Jake chuckled, swallowing a huge lump in his throat. "Yeah, you're right."
Rodger took out his handkerchief and passed it over to Jake. "Here, wipe your face off." Jake took it, enjoying the feel of the high-quality silk against his face as the so fabric absorbed the salty tears streaking his face. "What are you doing out here, Mr. Connor?"
Rodger refused to take back the handkerchief as he calmly answered, "We're resurveying the land; my ca le aren't ge ng near enough big. I think a few houses have been built on my land."
"Really?" "Don't want to pay old Uncle Sam on land I ain't able to use." Rodger waved for Jake to follow him, "Why don't ya come along, son, might take your mind off of what it is that got ya bawling."
"All right," Jake agreed. He rolled his motorcycle into the back of Rodger's truck and Rodger strapped it down. They hopped into the truck's cab, and Rodger drove them to the survey site. The reserva on had a suburban center, where Jake's family lived. It was filled with mobile homes and cheap cinderblock houses. Downtown was their community center, courthouse, post office, and supply shops. The area Rodger was driving to, however, was a more rural area of the reserva on, mostly filled with newer trailers.
As they traveled down the old dirt road, they came across a large white truck. A woman was leaning against the door, smoking a cigarette. Once she saw them approaching she quickly put out the bu and popped in a s ck of chewing gum. Rodger got out of the old ford, taking his cowboy hat off and bowing his head at the woman. "Evening ma'am."
"Mr. Conner, I presume?" She asked, pu ng her hand out for him to shake.
He took her hand, cupping it in both of his hands. "You presume correctly, Miss—?"
"Rona, Rona McDonald." She smiled politely. "You called about a query on your property line?" "Right to the point, I see." Rodger grinned, then looked around her. "Well, I'll be glad to discuss the matter. Is your supervisor around?"
"Mr. Williams is en route, but I assure you I am well qualified and competent in my abili es to provide you with the services you requested." Ms. Rona's smile never fell, but Jake caught the quick flash of anger that crossed her face.
Rodger chuckled, obviously about to retort with another refusal for her help, when another car drove up and parked alongside her truck. "Mr. Conner! I see you met our radiant Ms. Rona. Sorry I ran a little late."
"I was beginning to worry I'd have to explain my situa on twice." Rodger chuckled. "Now if you come with me, I will show you where I have the dispute."
"Oh, Rona, can you run and get us a couple coffees, please?" Mr. Williams called back. Clenching her fists slightly, Rona nodded back, smiling. "Of course, Mr. Williams." Jake approached her, watching as she took a large thermos out of the truck. "How can you stand it?"
She turned, smiling at him. "What?"
"Them looking down their noses at you." "Oh, I don't think of it like that. I'm happy to be doing what I love. Even working like this wouldn't have been possible for my mother's genera on." She poured out the coffee into styrofoam cups. "At the end of the day it doesn't ma er who doesn't believe in my abili es, just that I can prove them wrong."
Jake smiled at her, taking two of the cups. "I like that. It's a good philosophy to live by." Rodger took his coffee from Jake. "Thanks." He took a sip. "Now, you have to understand I haven't used this land for about ten years. The ca le don't like being fussed with, so I keep them as far away from people as possible. I've been rota n' them around, but the grasslands need a bit more me before I can set a hundred head of ca le on it. That's why I need this land." He looked over at the trailers parked on the plains. "Seems like the natives thought it was free parking and moved in."
Jake took a drink of the coffee, coughing at the bi er taste. It was black; usually Jake would have added milk to his coffee.
"Well Mr. Conner," Mr. Williams said, looking ques oningly at Jake, then back at Rodger. "It seems like a pre y simple check. Rona and I will get to work here and give you a call tomorrow with our findings."
"Thank you, sir. Ma'am," Rodger said, then headed back to his truck. Jake trailed a er him, watching as Rona took out the equipment and began se ng up. He wondered if she was really all right with being second best to a man, or if she held resentment for her boss.
"You wanna stay with us, Jake?" Rodger asked once they were back in the truck, bringing Jake out of his thoughts.
"No, that's all right Mr. Conner." Jake smiled up at him. "I've always appreciated the kindness of you taking me in, though."
"You coming to church on Sunday?" Rodger asked, clasping Jake's shoulder familiarly. "You know I never miss it," Jake said, smiling. He and Mr. Conner had a strange rela onship. Even though Mr. Conner disliked Na ves, he seemed all right with Jake. It had only ever been awkward when Mr. Conner had dropped Jake off at the reserva on, where he would look down his nose at Jake's family.
Rodger dropped Jake off at the mechanic shop, helping him unlatch the motorcycle from the bed of the truck before ge ng back in. Shuey's father watched from his porch, his wheelchair rolled up to the banister so he could use it to set his cup on it. "You give me a call if you're ever in trouble, Jakieboy."
"Yes, sir." Jake waved to Rodger as he drove off, then walked his bike up to the garage. He looked around for Shuey, but he was nowhere to be seen around the shop. Throwing the bag over his shoulder, Jake went up to the house, waving at Sheuy's father.
"Shuey ain't here." The old man sneered. "He's out on a job."
"Oh… well is it all right if I wait?"
"Ain't like I can say much about it. His goons were here."
Jake sat down on the porch, looking out at the road. "Excuse me?" "Rodger Conner. His kind was up here trying to get me to go to one of them death homes." He spit. "Said it were, 'be er livin' facili es' or some horseshit like that."
"Who came and saw you?"
"I don't know 'em by names, just he wears the same look that bastard does." "Mr. Conner is a respectable man," Jake growled, the familiar feeling of frustra on rising in him. Shuey's father was never easy to talk to.
"You're more white than I thought." Shuey's father laughed. "I'm gonna wait in Shuey's room."
"I ain't too keen on your kinship, neither."
Jake stopped and turned back to him. "I thought you were over this. Look, I know you probably wanted loads of pups and for Shuey to mate with some female, but he chose me. He's my mate, and —"
"Ain't talking 'bout Shuey." He cut in with a look of visible distaste. "I'm talking 'bout you and the rich boy."
Jake raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"Ever since that boy's been coming here he ain't brought nothing but trouble. Now we go a look out for some council that ain't ever bothered us before? You get in bed with him, but leave my boy out."
Jake glared at him. "Your son is the Beta. Even when I've tried to get him to be less involved, he's gone and put himself in the middle of things. Mohegan's mated with Henry, it's now Shuey's personal job to take care of him."
Shuey's father turned away, sneering out to the road. "I'll tell him you're here." Jake rolled his eyes, picking up his bag as he walked inside, "Thanks." Jake tried to let the frustra on and anger roll off his shoulders as he entered Shuey's room and focus on staying positive.
Jake sprawled out on the large bed, his bag falling to the floor from his outstretched arm. He stared up at the ceiling, kicking his boots off and sending them clattering to the floor from the foot of the bed. A er a few minutes, Jake looked over to the side of the bed to see the book Shuey had been reading. He flipped it open and began reading Further Adventures of Lad. Jake got a few chapters into the book before he looked up at a noise in the hallway and found Shuey watching him from the doorway. "You're back."
"Yeah," Shuey said, coming closer to his bed. Jake closed the book, tossing it back on the nightstand. "Listen." Jake looked at the bedspread. "I know I was out of line. I shouldn't badmouth Mohegan."
"You really shouldn't," Shuey said. "I had good reason to! Henry means more to me than some hierarchy, and I'm not afraid of Mohegan's punishments if it means protec ng my friend."
"This is sounding less like an apology." Shuey sighed. "I s ll shouldn't have yelled at you. It wasn't fair." Jake looked up at Shuey, his eyes large and watery. "You're not still mad, are you?"
Shuey put his rough hand on Jake's cheek. "You can't always get away with insubordina on by ac ng cute." Shuey pushed a lock of short brown hair away from Jake's forehead. "You need to trust Mohegan's decision, even if you don't like them." Shuey put his hand over Jake's eyes. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Shuey, please don't be mad at me," Jake pleaded.
"Jake." Shuey sighed. "I'm not mad at you. I just wish you would be more understanding."
"I don't like this," Jake said, his eyelashes fluttering under Shuey's palm. Shuey bent down and kissed Jake, pushing him over using the hand covering his eyes and forehead. "Do you like that?"
Jake smiled, enjoying the feeling as Shuey straddled him. "No, I'm not enjoying this at all." "Really?" Shuey grabbed Jake's arms and pinned them to the bed, then kissed along Jake's neck un l he got to his ear. "You need to learn your place, Jake. Are you going to submit, or are you going to make this difficult?"
Jake moaned as Shuey nibbled on his earlobe, enjoying Shuey's hot breath against his skin as Shuey's mouth moved along his ear and neck. "What do you think?" Jake asked, struggling out of the hold and laughing as Shuey dove a er him, trying to push him into a submissive position.
"Shuey." Shuey looked up, Jake's shirt in his teeth and Jake's flailing arms in his hands, to see his father in the open doorway. He had a sour look on his face, and it sucked all the enjoyment out of the room. "Yeah, Dad?"
"I need you to—" Shuey's father looked away, ashamed.
Shuey kissed Jake. "I'll be right back, all right?" Jake chuckled, rolling over. "You do know, this means I win, right?"
