From Here to Paternity

Indian,“ he said. He turned to the other questioner. “My research began with a childhood of stories, stories told by my grandmother and grandfather—“
    “What were their names—your grandparents’?“ Jane all but shouted.
    “Look here, lady, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you’re disrupting this meeting and I suggest you find someplace else to go.“
    “How about the Sheepshead Bay court?“ Jane asked. “They have very interesting records, you know.“
    At that, HawkHunter grabbed the podium with one hand as if to keep his balance. “I don’t know what—“
    “I think you do,“ Jane said. “Let me tell you about one of those records.“ She had the sheet of fax paper in her hand and ready. She held it up and said, “This is a copy of the record of Johan Aulkunder changing his name to John HawkHunter on his eighteenth birthday. And this“—she flourished another sheet of paper—“is a picture of Johan Aulkunder in his high school yearbook. Even on a fax, it’s apparent how much he resembles the picture of you on the back of your book. Of course, neither of those pictures resembles you today very much. You’ve had a lot of plastic surgery, haven’t you, Mr. HawkHunter? But you couldn’t change the shape of your teeth, or the characteristics of your skull. It’s very easy to disprove American Indian heritage. And Doris Schmidtheiser knew that. She was very indiscreet, too, and mentioned to you that she’d found this record when she was rummaging around for evidence of Gregor Roman changing his name.“
    HawkHunter’s mouth was working, but words wouldn’t come. He turned and looked at Little Feather. She ripped open the little tissue package and held up a small, hard item. “This is just a rock!“ she said, flinging it toward Jane. Her aim was bad. Frantic. The bit of gravel pinged off the wall.
    The room was deathly still. HawkHunter groped to recover the situation. “This is exactly the kind of libelous nonsense the whites have always used on Indians! The nitpicking pseudo-science that is meant to discredit. Next she’ll be spouting nonsense about brain size—“
    The dauntingly large man in the red plaid shirt in the front row had stood up and joined him at the podium. He took hold of HawkHunter’s arm in a vise-like grip. “I’d like to hear what more this lady has to say,“ he said in a deep voice.
    “What I’m saying is this: that man is no more a Native American than I am,“ Jane replied. “In fact, I’ve probably got a couple of generations on him as far as our tenure in America goes.“
    There was a nasty undertone in the room. Whether it was directed at her or HawkHunter or both of them, Jane couldn’t guess.
    “Don’t you see, Leon, what’s she’s trying to do?“ HawkHunter said. “Just what the whites have always done—tried to turn us against our own people. And once again it’s working! You can’t believe her! You’re betraying your own people!“
    “It’s easy to prove,“ Jane said. “Will you agree to have a skull X-ray and your teeth examined?“
    “No! He will not!“ Little Feather shrilled. “He doesn’t have to prove a damned thing to you, you white bitch!“
    This time the rumble of discontent had a clear target. Little Feather had made a big mistake.
    “Maybe not, but he has to prove it to me,“ the big man named Leon said. He still had a grip on HawkHunter’s arm and was looking down at him.
    “Excuse me, sir, but are you Leon Whitewing? The president of the tribal council?“ Jane asked.
    “I am.“
    “Then it was you who signed the contract with HawkHunter on behalf of the tribe,“ Jane said, brandishing a copy that Linda Moose foot had made for her.
    “I did,“ Leon Whitewing said.
    “Would you give the gist of that contract?“
    “I don’t see why not. It’s not a secret. We engaged HawkHunter to represent our interest in regard to the legal ownership of Flattop.“
    “And what are you paying him for that?“ Jane went on.
    “Nothing,“ Leon said. “It’s a pro bono situation.“
    “Is it?“ Jane asked.
    Leon responded slowly, as if his mind were running about ten times as fast as his mouth. “Well, officially he’s to get ten percent of the profits from anything that’s done with the land if he wins the suit. But since we’ll just restore it to its cemetery status—“
    He seemed startled as the tall woman in the second row whipped her head around to look at Jane. Jane nodded to her