For Them, We Must

Do the right thing.

"What do you think it up with him?" Kayce asked, smiling as he looked forward.

"I don't know," Oakley sighed. "Have you talked to him about what you're working with the Reservations on?"

"Not yet," Kayce said. "And before you start on me...I will, I just wanted a more established product before I started telling people about it."

"Tate's not people, Kayce," Oakley said.

"Well...I don't want to tell my son I'm doing something unless I'm sure of it," Kayce shifted in his seat.

"Sure of it?" Oakley asked and then remembered. "Is this about the casino?"

"Yeah," Kayce nodded.

"You still don't know if you'll continue helping them?" Oakley frowned.

"A lot of things still up in the air, baby," Kayce pulled into the drive-through line.

Oakley didn't push it, forcing herself to lean back in the seat as they waited for Kayce to order. He pulled his truck around and handed some things to Oakley before heading back to the ranch. Oakley held the two bags in her lap as she listened to the music playing. When Kayce pulled up to the house he turned off his truck but didn't move. Oakley looked over at him.

"I want to help them," Kayce told her.

"I know you do," Oakley nodded. "It's just..."

"Complicated," Kayce said.

"It always is with you, baby," Oakley gave Kayce a sad smile.

They got out and brought in the food and drinks to the kids waiting.

**

Oakley leaned against Tate's doorframe and cleared her throat. He looked up from the book he was reading on his bed. They stared for a minute before Tate sighed and lowered the book to his chest. Oakley pushed off and walked over to his bed, sitting down and looking at Tate.

"Well?" She asked.

Tate sat up slowly, leaning back on his hands.

"I didn't want to write about that stuff," Tate said.

"I could figure that much," Oakley smiled. "But why?"

"I just feel like I'm always the one that gets stuff like that," Tate shrugged. "I'm always the kid from the reservation...the one who had a mom who was an Indian...sure, Tate knows all about that stuff. Tate knows what that's like...I'm just tired of being that kid."

"You don't want to be connected to that part of you?" Oakley asked, trying to understand.

"I don't want that part of me to identify all of me," Tate said. "I'm...more than just that, right?"

"Of course you are," Oakley nodded. "And you could also be anything you wanted to be...our pasts don't dictate our futures, Tate. You don't have to be an Indian just like you don't have to be a cowboy."

"Why does it matter that I'm anything at all?" Tate asked her. "Why can't I just be?"

Oakley smiled at Tate.

"You can just be too," Oakley nodded. "But if you get an assignment for a paper, you need to follow that assignment."

"My teacher just gave that to me because I'm from the reservation," Tate rolled his eyes.

"Wait..." Oakley thought. "Everyone didn't have to write about that? Just you?"

"Yeah," Tate nodded.

"Hold on," Oakley stood up. "Your teacher just assigned the topic of tribal relations to you? No one else in the class?"

"We all got different topics," Tate looked up at her. "Seems to be how it always is. Why do you look like that?"