Remnants of a Hidden Conspiracy

Crow was glad Joe had called ahead. The satellite reception wasn't good that early in the morning, but it was enough for Joe to get through with a warning he was coming. Crow had to throw the tarp on the motorcycle, convince Key to keep quiet about it.

Whatever the reason for the visit had to be important. Thornbrush was further away than Chantry. It took a while for Joe to drive to Crow's place. A decision Crow made a while back, which she regretted was to isolate herself from Joe.

They were sitting on the back porch. The morning was cool, but not too cold. The wind was coming from the opposite direction of the porch, which helped. The constant fifteen mile per hour wind that blew over the prairie lands could drop the modest sixty-three degree temperature to a chilly forty-eight degrees.

"There was another campsite found on the plains. This was as bad as the last. Someone had taken a ground owl and killed it." Joe said. "It wasn't pretty is all I'll say. Stay close to the trailer, because whoever these people are. They have a cruel streak."

Key bit her lip. She didn't like the idea of being confined within sight of the trailer. She wanted to explore the cave again. She knew it would have to wait until Joe had caught these people. It wouldn't be long now, since Joe was involved. Joe always seemed to catch the person he went after.

"Uncle Joe, I thought the FBI handled internal conflicts on the reservation, since we are a sovereign nation to the United States." Key said.

"The FBI won't get involved in this vandalism. Unless they are crossing into reservation land from the United States. Usually it's a Federal Marshal who intervenes or acts as a liaison for the interests of the United States. In the meantime we are on our own."

"When would the army get involved?"

"They wouldn't. The United States Army going onto the reservation would mean a major crisis that required assistance from the United States government. Besides, army soldiers on reservation land don't always work out that well."

"But, a lot of Indigenous people serve in the military."

"They do, but a lot of Midwestern states are poor, just like the reservations are, so it's not so unusual for as many kids from Rapid City to join the military as it is for Lakota kids from Chantry or Thornbrush to join the army."

"Would Indigenous people have joined the army in World War Two."

"What's this about?" Crow said.

"I'm just wondering." Key told her.

"Yes, they did. They were often assigned to the communications corps because our language and other Indigenous languages were impossible for the enemy to decipher." Joe said. "Of course, my knowledge of this is very limited."

"Oh." Was Key's only response.

It made sense to Key that John Wilkerson may have been a Lakota and had left his bike and other things in the cave for some reason before Wilkerson had become missing in action. Only the Facebook page didn't mention that Wilkerson was Lakota.

Thursday Key had finished her class work online. She called up the Facebook page by John Wilkerson's family. Key looked at the faded photograph of John Wilkerson. It was obvious that John Wilkerson was not Lakota, unless it was well hidden. His skin was too light, his eyes were clearly blue in the photograph, and the hair was a dirty blond.

Key called up her own Facebook account. She opened her private post from Patty.

"I'm glad that you and Paul are getting along. Be careful with that motorcycle. I don't want to hear that you crashed in the middle of nowhere. I got your pictures of it. Jim says it might date back to the forties or fifties. That would make it sixty to seventy years old."