Hiding The Truth

Little Moments

The ceremony was beautiful, in the way of all Veterans Appreciation ceremonies. The Director of the Arsenal gave a speech about gratitude and respect, followed by a truly rousing performance of the Red Clay University marching band.

"Dig DEEP!" Junior yelled the University athletic teams' battle cry, caught up in the excitement. He didn't understand everything the man onstage had talked about, but his little body felt every note of the patriotic songs and every throb of the drumbeats. Cam eyed him as his foot tapping became full-on dancing in place.

"Like the music, young man?" He asked.

"Yes, sir!" The boy enthused. "It makes my heart pound. Drumming makes me want to shout and dance and run fast."

"You know, the Red people in this land used drums to send messages to one another. They used them for magic and healing, they drummed at their Council meetings, and they even took drums into battle to hearten the warriors for the fight." Cam told him.

Nita looked at him sharply. Did he know their secret? When their eyes met, she held a finger to her lips. He shook his head definitively.

"Ssshhhht, that's enough about that. This is a Veteran's ceremony, not a Red Council." She hissed.

"Every boy, indeed every man, woman, and child in Columbia, should know the true history of the nation. This country was founded on Red land, and many Red people suffered and died so the White citizens could have their way with that land. And even after the White Government had broken treaty after treaty with the Red tribes, during the War Times Red men lent their language to the defense efforts against the Nazis and Russkis because it was unique unto itself and it made a code for sending messages no enemy could break. Red veterans deserve as much or more respect and honor as Whites on this day." Cam argued passionately.

Nita's heart soared. She didn't know how long she had waited to hear those words, in fact, she didn't even know she was longing to hear them until they fell from Cam Stuart's lips. His belief in the honor of her abandoned-but-never-forgotten ancestors healed something long broken inside her. She had not been proud to be Red since the White society around her had taught her in childhood Reds were thought of as dirty drunk wastrels, and she thought she could never again bring herself to claim her heritage aloud, but she would stand a little straighter and gain a little more bounce in her step anytime she remembered the conversation for the rest of her life.

"You sure know a lot about Columbian history for a Scottish immigrant," Lila teased, desperate to lighten the conversation and change the subject. Who knew, she thought, unaware of her mother's thoughts in the moment, what Nita would say or do when confronted with any talk about her past?

"My own people were massacred by the English armies and our land annexed by the English king. Many Scottish warriors were killed and many women abused and many children orphaned or worse. Our mountains are not too different from the mountains here in the South, and our ways are not too different from Red ways. There were many Scot and Red marriages when the emigration began. The Red people were accepting of my people when we were displaced because we loved the land and wanted to share it, not claim it solely for ourselves like the English settlers. It would take many pages to write the whole story of Scot and Red unity and alliance, and it's a rare writer who could begin to do that story justice." Cam ignored her attempt to gloss over the turn the talk had taken, but after he'd said his piece, he offered an olive branch. "Who wants hamburgers and ice cream?"

"I do, I do!" Junior jumped up and down with glee at the prospect, but part of his mind was mulling over the grownups' talk, and he decided in his heart he wished he were a Red boy. Or, he thought looking at Cam, maybe he wished he were a Red boy with a Scot daddy...