“Noticed, but not seen.”
She’d begun to notice this herself, just from walking beside him in public. The way people stared, the quick, darting glances they thought went unnoticed. She’d even heard a child’s voice carry across the Village Green, unfiltered in its curiosity—“Mom, that’s a real Injun.” The words had landed with a jolt, a stark reminder of how the world saw him. “Naki,” she said softly, “I see you.”
He turned to her with a tender look in his eyes, a look that said maybe the attraction she felt wasn’t one-sided. “So what’s it like to be a female ranger?”
She coughed a laugh. “Complicated.”
“How so?”
“Well, to borrow your thought, I would say that when I put on this uniform and wear this hat, I am seen. It telegraphs authority. But when I’m in regular clothin’, I think I’m unseen.”
“ThatI doubt very much.”
Well now, that was sweet. She felt her face start to flush, so she shifted the conversation back to him. “I’ve googled the Penobscot Nation, but I’d like to know more. I’d like to learn about your people.”
One eyebrow lifted. “You googled?”
She grimaced. “Guilty. Before I met you, all I knew came from NPS brochures—and most of that was about the river.”
Naki’s lips curved in a faint smile, but his eyes stayed distant. “And it all begins with that river.”
For a moment, she thought that was all he was going to say on the topic. Had she disappointed him when she admitted she knew so little about the Penobscot Nation? It was the truth, though. She’d learned a little about Indigenous people in a high school US history course, and later, while working at Mesa Verde, she’d learned specifically about the Southwest tribe that had once lived there. But after meeting Naki, she was embarrassed at how little she knew, which would be even less from the perspective of a Native American.
But then he began to speak, each word carefully chosen, his tone steady—like someone holding back a tide of feeling. “The Penobscot people have been in this region for thousands of years—long before anyone thought to call this place Maine. The people lived off the rivers and the land. Traded, hunted, fished. When Europeans arrived, everything changed. Disease hit first, then land loss. Treaties were made and broken. By the 1800s, we were confined to Penobscot Indian Island. Think of that, Scout.Confined.Even the island wasn’t truly ours for a long time. But now, it’s our tribal seat.”
She turned off on ME-186 South and drove into Winter Harbor. After entering the Schoodic Peninsula, she followed signs to Schoodic Point. “So that gold,” she said softly, glancing at him again. “If it had gotten to the Nation like it was supposed to ... it would’ve made a difference, wouldn’t it?”
Naki stared out the window, his voice even. “It certainly would’ve helped. And now, the difficulties facing Native Americans run much deeper than anything more money can solve.” He shifted in the seat to face her, leaning against the car door.“It hasn’t always been that way. Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, ‘The most Indian thing about the Indian is surely not his moccasins or his calumet, his wampum or his stone hatchet, but traits of character and sagacity, skill or passion.’” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “And that, Scout, is what it means to me”—he put a hand on his chest—“to be an Indian. I am doing all I can to help my people remember who they are.”
His words hit Scout squarely in the chest. Traits of character, sagacity, skill, passion. Emerson was describing Naki. It was like he had seen in someone long ago what she saw in him today. She felt the sting of tears before she could stop them, her vision blurring.Pull it together, girl!She blinked quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice, but of course, he did.
Naki reached into his pocket, pulled out a tissue, and handed it to her without a word. When she didn’t take it, he leaned over and gently wiped the tears from her cheek. His touch was brief, careful, and so gentle. “Why the tears?”
Embarrassed, Scout swallowed hard. “You’re doin’ something so important with your life.”
He tipped his head slightly. “As are you.”
Sweet to say. She loved her work as a ranger, but it paled in comparison to what he was doing. He was changing lives. Changing generations. More tears filled her eyes. Scout wiped the corner of her eyes for the last time.Girl, that’s enough crying!
“Pull over up there.” He glanced at the car clock. “The tide will turn soon. I have to warn you that if your father’s theory is correct, the gold will be gone.”
Bringing the car to a stop, she frowned. “What’s my father’s theory?”
“That the person who hid the gold came back for this one.” Naki folded the newspaper neatly, setting it on top of the dashboard. “Ready to hunt?”
“Yes.” She turned off the car. “Almost ready. One more question. Naki, are you helping find the gold because you hope it’ll end up with the Penobscot Nation?”
He chuckled, the sound low and brief. “I can guarantee you that this gold will not end up with the Nation.”
“Then why? This hunt has taken up so much of your time. Why would you bother?”
He turned to look at her, his dark eyes steady. “Because your father asked me to help you.”
Scout blinked, stunned. Of all the answers she’d expected, that hadn’t even made the list.
The sun was just setting as Chase knocked on the door of Scout’s cottage. She still wasn’t answering his text messages or phone calls, and he had to clear the air with her. The door opened, and his practiced smile froze. He blinked. The woman standing before him bore a strong resemblance to Scout, but she was definitelynotScout.
“Hello there,” she said, her Southern accent smooth and measured. She was elegant in a way that caught him off guard—her blouse crisp, her pearl earrings subtle but deliberate, her hair a perfectly coiffed bob of highlighted blond hair.
