The Arrow Keeper’s Song by Kerry Newcomb

words: Their rebellion might be the magnet that pulls us onto the center stage of world events.”
    â€œYou think big, Mr. Lehrman,” Allyn flatly observed.
    â€œPrecisely. And it has made me a remarkably wealthy man. I intend to do the same for you, Mr. Benedict.” Lehrman stroked his double chin. “Now, what do you say to that?”
    â€œThat’s why I am here,” Allyn replied. There was no reason to hide his enthusiasm. This was a goal he had worked toward all his adult life. And now it was finally about to be realized. Now he would come out of the shadow and bask in the light. Artemus Lehrman lifted a leather satchel to the table, unbuckled the flap, and removed a set of documents.
    â€œI think you will find everything in order. Congress is pleased with the arrangement. Once the reservation is terminated, ownership of the northern oil fields will be transferred to Benedict Exploration and Development, a subsidiary of Prairie Oil and Gas. My company agrees to underwrite the payment of a lump sum to be distributed to the tribe for the benefit of all parties concerned. Read the documents at your leisure. However, I can assure you …”
    â€œMy son and I are in no hurry,” Allyn replied as he took a seat by the desk. Donning his reading spectacles, he began to study the papers in earnest.
    â€œYour father is a shrewd man,” Lehrman said with a glance in Clay’s direction.
    â€œRead this with me, son,” said Allyn. “Better that you become acquainted with the business. After all, one day it will be yours.”
    Clay left his position by the door and joined his father behind the desk. The interior of the office was positively stifling, and Artemus Lehrman was sweating profusely. Clay was also uncomfortable. A droplet of moisture fell from his forehead and struck the first page, causing a stain to spread on the edge of the paper, near a clause outlining the relationship between the formidable conglomerate, Prairie Oil and Gas, and its newly created subsidiary company, Benedict Exploration and Development.
    Deep within Clay Benedict, layered beneath the demands of being Allyn’s son and his desire to win his fathers respect, the small, quiet voice of his conscience stirred as he read the text of the contract his father held. By signing these pages Allyn Benedict was placing his own interests above those of the Southern Cheyenne, the very people he was sworn to represent. Not that Clay had any love for Tom Sandcrane’s people. What would a bunch of uneducated redskins do with the oil fields? And besides, each member of the tribe would receive a cash settlement, that was something. Of course it wasn’t anything near the profits that could be realized from the oil revenue. Then again, men like Lehrman and his father were taking the risk of developing the wells, drilling, and marketing the oil and ought to be compensated. In the end Clay’s innate decency proved frail; he turned a deaf ear to his conscience and concentrated on the document in his father’s hands, though much of the legal language was lost on him.
    â€œThe test we ran up on the north tract of the reservation has every indication of being a bonanza,” Artemus said. “Yessir, a year from now you’ll be a regular King Midas sitting on a throne of black gold.” He removed a silk kerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his pink, round features. “I hope there won’t be any snags.”
    Allyn did not reply. He was focused on the contract, carefully scrutinizing every line of text, every correction. And when he at last put pen to paper and signed his name to each draft of the agreement, it was with a sense of elation and, in all honesty, relief.
    â€œWe are in the endgame now,” Allyn softly said as he handed Lehrman the drafts belonging to Prairie Oil and Gas.
    â€œYou play chess? Ah, we must have a game sometime,” said Lehrman. The corporate vice