Have you ever wondered why the world is the way it is? I do, all the time. My grandfather tried to explain the ancient beliefs of our people to me, without, I'm sorry to say, very much success . . .

"Look at the circle," Grandfather would say, "can you tell where it begins or ends?"

"No," I would reply, only half listening.

"The circle is sacred to our people. Do you know why?" he asked.

Another noncommittal "no" was my reply.

"It represents Mother Earth, who provides us with everything we need to live." Grandfather was nothing if not extremely patient. "We must treat the Earth, and everything living on it, with respect. The animals, plants, and even the rocks are our brothers and sisters," he would say.

Great, I thought, my brother is a rock.

"It is our responsibility to care for Mother Earth the way she cares for us," Grandfather said sternly, "we do this because it is the right thing to do . . ."

That was my grandfather; he always did the right thing. And, as I got older, I began to understand what he was trying to teach me. Even after he was gone, I could still hear his voice speaking to me. " . . . it is the right thing to do."

Still, it was very difficult for me to do the right thing when it seemed everyone else around me wasn't . . . and getting away with it, too. Case in point: my refusal to publish an academic paper for the oldest reason in the world--principle.

"Look, if you want to teach at a major university, you need to publish," Gayle advised.

"I don't know why," I argued, "it's ludicrous to think my job depends on some boring academic article published in some innocuous magazine no one but scholars ever reads. I don't need a bunch of academicians yammering about something I wrote to validate my knowledge base! I've got degrees up the gazoos, isn't that enough?"

"Bret," Gayle lectured, "I know you are incredibly knowledgeable, but the stuffed shirts with the big degrees, who sign the paychecks, don't care about that. In addition to those degrees, doctor, they want you to have an article published in that innocuous scholarly report--or you don't stay employed, get it?"

"Yeah," I groaned, "but I still don't think its right."

"Maybe so," Gayle agreed, "but that's the way it is, and you have to abide by the rules if you want to play the game. Try looking at it this way: your paper reflects well on them. When it comes down to it, they need you to publish more than you realize. They can brag to their cronies that they have the best minds in all of academia, and your paper is proof."

Gayle was right; I knew it. After all, I had been told often enough . . . every time I'd been pushed aside or overlooked for something I wanted.

"Bret," my mother tried to comfort me, "just prove to them you can do whatever you set your mind to do. Learn to play by their rules." "Mom," I cried, "how am I supposed to do that if no one will give me a chance?"

That scenario had played itself out time and time again. I had to continually prove myself, initially, because I was Native American from the "rez," or because I was an unsophisticated "redneck." Finally, the most infuriating reason was I was a woman who had the misfortune to live in a world run by men.

But Gayle never had lived out that scenario. She came from a wealthy family, with all the perks, and besides that--she caved, and wrote that academic article for the scholars to drool over.

Not me! I was going to stick by my guns, and as a result, once again, I was forced to prove myself. My strategy was to go on a fact finding mission. Just what was it that made one particular college professor, Dr. Jason Proctor, better than me?

Ms. Gayle Hanson, PhD, my best friend, confidant, and sometimes lover had a suggestion for my problem. I failed to see what made him such a big hit with the dean of the history department. We were both just as intelligent; although I didn't flaunt what I knew as he did. We both had tenure at the university. We both taught graduate courses, which were always filled first. I just didn't get it. Gayle and I discussed my situation at length one Saturday evening, at which time, she came up with this ridiculous notion.

"Bret," I have an idea," Gayle said slowly, as though she was having trouble forming the words, "why don't you observe one of Proctor's U.S. History classes?"

This idea came after a couple bottles of wine; so naturally, my reaction wasn't too out of line.

"Why would I do that?" I joked. "I don't want to be a proctologist."

I thought that was a very clever response, considering the amount of wine I had consumed. Gayle didn't.

"I'm serious, Bret," she replied indignantly.

I always wondered how one could successfully portray indignation while one was drunk.

"Since alcohol obviously interferes with your ability to think clearly," I slurred, "you shouldn't drink. Therefore, because your thought processes have been compromised by the fruit of the vine, I will disregard that absurd idea."

"Okay," Gayle retorted, "then if you are not interested in taking my advice, there can be no more whining when Proctor beats you out of the plumb assignments."

I had to admit, everything else I tried to get the dean's attention had failed, so why not take one more shot, like Henry V . . .

" . . . once more into the breach, dear friends . . ."

Ergo, today I was enduring the most boring hour in my life! I should have been teaching this class! However, all but one--me--of the 100 students in this class was literally hanging on every word this asshole was telling them. Why you ask? It was very simple--the professor was a man, who coincidentally, had been published. If this moron explained the plight of women in the 1700 and 1800's one more time, I thought I was going to puke . . .

"Of course you have to understand, Ms. Bryant," Proctor intoned, "women, from the dawn of time until the middle of the twentieth century, were chattel. As a result, women were relegated to roles that were subservient to men. Women were thought to be the weaker sex, and as such were considered to be incapable of competing with men on equal footing. Therefore, only traditional occupations were open for women. You know: a housewife, a cook, a teacher, a housekeeper . . ."

If he said what I thought he was going to, I swear . . .

" . . .and, of course the oldest occupation in the world . . ."

A smattering of laughter ensued.

"In other words, Dr. Proctor," I interrupted angrily, "you think the only thing women can do well is spread their legs for a man?"

Even before the words were out of my mouth, I knew I screwed up big time.

"Dr. Yearout," Proctor said condescendingly, "Certainly, you must know, my intention was never to infer that women were . . ."

I cut him off angrily.

"Oh please, don't patronize me, Proctor! I'm not one of your groupies hanging on your every word, and need your class to graduate. Your whole existence is testimony to your attitude toward women. You think all you have to do is wine and dine a woman, throw in a little coercion, and you can get anything you want. Wouldn't you agree with that assessment, Ms. Bryant? After all, you are passing U. S. History on your academic efforts alone, are you not?"

No doubt this was the first time all semester everyone was truly engaged in what was taking place in this classroom. There were 100 pairs of eyes and ears focused intently on Ms. Bryant in anticipation of how she would respond to my question. To say the least, everyone's interest was peaked. It was no secret Proctor had a case of "hot pants" for young co-eds. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, no one ever found proof of impropriety with any of his students on his part.

"Dr. Yearout, I find your insinuation insulting to both myself and the professor," the young woman stated flatly. "I have nothing but the highest respect for Jason . . . uh . . . I mean Dr. Proctor, both as an educator and human being."

Oh my God, I thought. Nearby, I heard another student whisper to his friend. "Shelly better be careful, her blonde is showing."

I thought the young man was going to implode to keep from laughing out loud.

"Just as I thought," I remarked coldly.

I slammed the door on my way out. Proctor was trying to put a good face on Shelly's verbal blunder. "I must apologize for what just happened. Sometimes, Dr. Yearout is her own worst enemy. She has yet to learn to control her emotional outbursts, and I'm afraid they will ultimately be her undoing."

Undoing? As much as I hated to agree with Proctor about anything, he was right. This time, I had gone too far. Gayle was always warning me?

"Bret, remember to engage your brain before you engage your mouth. You'll find yourself in less uncomfortable situations."

Grandfather would agree with Gayle.

"Some people wander through life aimlessly with no purpose, while others learn from the experiences in life, and grow stronger from the knowledge," he would say.

Not me, I had a purpose all right. It seemed I was hell bent to destroy myself, professionally, and this could be my crowning glory. A tenured professor impugning a colleague's ethics in private was risky at best, but doing so in his classroom, in front of his students, was more than risky, it was insane. I walked slowly toward my office, and once there, I flopped down into the old recliner and snapped on the stereo. It wasn't long before the soft melodious sounds of Native flute music filled the room. Native music provided a soothing balm for my tormented soul more than once. It was just as mind numbing as drugs without the harmful side effects, namely addiction.

Before long, a calm almost tranquil feeling replaced agitation. The feeling was not un-like the sensation one got seconds before sleep overtook the conscious mind. In that moment, from someplace far away, my grandfather's voice spoke to me. " . . . it is the right thing to do."

"Listen my little ones and I will tell you a story from the time of your grandfather's grandfather. A time just after Coyote created the people."

One boy, Small Beaver, spoke up. "Is the trickster, Coyote, in this story, Grandfather? My favorite stories involve Coyote." He laughed.

"No!" another boy said, "I like Fox best."

"Calm yourselves, my little ones," Grandfather said affectionately, "both Coyote and Fox are in this story."

The old Indian's eyes sparkled when he remembered a time long since passed in the people's history. The old man was nearing his ninetieth year, and was the Shaman, or wise man, of his village. The people called him He Who Sees the Past. He alone carried the memories [the history] of the people. To the children, he was Grandfather.

"Do you see those two rock formations on the west side of the river?" he continued.

One child spoke up. "Grandfather, everyone knows those rocks mark the entrance to our valley. They can be seen for miles, and my father said Coyote put them there so the people could find this place."

The young man was very proud of himself for remembering the story his father had taught him.

"That is true, Little Fox, but do you know how they came to be there?" Grandfather asked sternly. "If you do not, you know only part of the story."

Little Fox's pride turned to humiliation in an instant as the other children laughed at his discomfort. He Who Sees the Past put a stop to the jeering at once. He merely raised his hand for silence; then he began the tale once again.

"Coyote created the people, the Nimipu, long ago, but before he did this, he searched the world looking for just the right place. It was then . . ."

Another child spoke up interrupting He Who Sees the Past again. "Yes, Grandfather, Coyote defeated the Monster of the Clearwater and created our people from its heart."

Little Fox moved uncomfortably on his buffalo robe, an angry expression showed clearly on his face.

"Very good, little one," Grandfather praised. "But, once again you are ahead of my story. All of you be still, and let me go on with my story." The children were all quiet now, anxious to hear the legend the old man had to tell.

"The rocks are more than a marker for the people. Look closely; do you see what form the rocks make?"

The children studied the rock formations closely, but no one dared speak up after Grandfather's stern admonition for silence. Well, all but one.

"Grandfather," Little Fox said matter-of-factly, "anyone can see they are people. One is a strong warrior riding a great spotted horse. He has an eagle perched on his arm."

The boys in the circle all laughed at Little Fox's assumption, the girls just sat in stony silence. The old man sat quietly; a slight smile creased his face.

"What makes you think the rider is a warrior? Perhaps the figure is a hunter or a girl? Do not jump to conclusions, Little Fox," He Who Sees the Past warned, "many times the hunter looses his prey because he shows himself too quickly. Now, I will tell the story."

The old man began his story; the children listened respectfully with rapt fascination . . .

Coyote and his brother Fox were discussing where the people should live. The Clearwater Valley was a beautiful place and had everything the people would need; the Creator saw to that. Still Coyote felt that the Nimipu would need another place to live as well, a place where they would be safe if ever there was danger. Fox wasn't sure that was necessary, and they argued about what to do.

While they were arguing, a brother and sister approached cautiously. The boy was called Gold Eagle, and the girl was Bright Eyes. Coyote and Fox noticed the two hiding behind a small tree, and stopped their discussion.

Fox said to Coyote, "We have company my brother."

"Where?" Coyote asked quickly.

"There, behind that berry bush," Fox replied.

"Ah yes, I see," Coyote said slyly, already a plan forming in his clever brain. He spoke harshly to the brother and sister. "Why are you listening? Do you not know it is not polite to eavesdrop? Come here," Coyote demanded.

Bright Eyes, the elder of the two spoke first. "My brother, Gold Eagle, and I did not mean to eavesdrop. We did not mean any disrespect--"

Encouraged by his sister's speech, the boy interrupted her. This rude behavior did not go unnoticed by Coyote and Fox.

Golden Eagle spoke boldly. "My keen hearing and sharp eyes caught your voices and movements from that hill over there." Gold Eagle pointed to a hill far down the valley. "I said we should go see what was here, but my sister, naturally, was frightened and said we should be cautious. But I said there was nothing to fear, I would protect her. You should be more careful to hide your trail. It was easy to track you to this place."

Once again, Bright Eyes was embarrassed by her younger brother's brash behavior, and seethed with anger. This too did not go unnoticed by Fox and Coyote. It was obvious there was friction between the two, and Coyote was cleaver enough to use this animosity to his advantage.

"We could use these two to settle our argument. Let us trick them into finding the best place for the people to live," he whispered to Fox.

"You may have a good idea, brother," Fox agreed. "These two are very competitive, that is clear. If we make the reward great enough, they will be eager to do our work for us."

"Then this is what we will do," Coyote said. "Listen carefully to my words, and follow what I say." Fox nodded eager to see what Coyote had in mind for the two foolish children. The siblings had not heard Fox and Coyote's conversation, so did not know Coyote was setting a trap for them.

"Very well," Coyote continued, "since you are here, Fox and I would like your opinion on a matter we have been discussing."

"Yes, that's true," agreed Fox, "my brother and I were talking about where the Nimipu should live that provides protection, but we can't agree. What do you think?"

"That is not such a problem; I know a place that has good water and shelter. There is plenty of buffalo for the people," Gold Eagle proclaimed. "I can take you to this place, but it is far. Maybe it is too much work for the two of you."

Fox wanted to punish the young boy for his brashness, but Coyote stopped him. "Wait," he whispered to Fox, "let the girl talk first. See how angry she is with her brother."

It was true Bright Eyes was indeed angry.

"What my brother says is true," the girl stated, "but what he didn't say was it is Crow land, and they are friends of the Nimipu, taking their land would be wrong. My brother's words show he has no honor."

"My sister is a foolish girl!" Gold Eagle shouted. "She knows nothing of such things. The Crow are weak; we could easily take their land for our own. They know this; that is why they are friendly to us. It is they who have no honor!"

"A man who will kill a friend for their land has no honor!" Bright Eyes screamed. "Our Grandfather told us of a place that is safe and has everything we need to live. It belongs to no one but the Creator. Grandfather said only a people with honor may live in this place."

"You are childish indeed, Bright Eyes, if you believe the stories of a foolish old man," her brother declared.

Fox could only shake his head at the younger sibling's deplorable behavior.

"Coyote," Fox said, "these two argue worse than we do. Shouldn't we stop this?"

"Yes, my brother, it is time." Coyote nodded, then added, "The two of you have strong ideas, and cannot agree, so this is what we will do. Fox will get horses while I instruct you."

With that said, Fox went off to find horses for the brother and sister.

"This is what you must do," Coyote told them. "Since each of you think your location is the best, you will have a competition. You must journey to your valleys, and make a map as you go marking the rivers and game trails. Note also good places that provide shelter to make camps for the people. Finally, you must bring back what you think is most important for the people to live. You have one moon to complete your quest, and the one who returns first will be the winner. Do you understand all that I have said to you?"

Both children nodded, and Fox had returned with the horses. They were both beautiful spotted horses Coyote provided for the Nimipu, who were good horse breeders. These spotted horses were prized by all the tribes and were fiercely guarded by the Nimipu.

"Each of you will take one of these horses; they will carry you on your journey," Coyote said, "but be careful, these are the most valuable in my herd, so do not lose them, or bring them to any harm."

"Yes, Coyote," Bright Eyes said earnestly, "I will do as you ask and be the first to return."

"Ha!" Gold Eagle laughed. "I will not be defeated by a mere girl. Coyote, I will win this race, and the Grandfathers will tell stories of my great victory."

"We shall see," Bright Eyes shouted, "we shall see!" Her words echoed down the valley as she disappeared around the bend.

Gold Eagle glared off to the west, the direction his sister had gone. Coyote and Fox were aware of his evil thoughts. Coyote warned Gold Eagle saying, "Remember Gold Eagle, victory without honor is one not worth winning."

"I do not need to cheat to win a race against my sister, for I am bigger and stronger," the boy replied contemptuously. Then, he turned his horse and spurred him off to the east.

Fox had been thinking about Coyote's plan, and he wondered whether it was such a good idea after all. Coyote often made up such plans involving people when he was bored and needed entertainment. He said to his brother, "My brother, are you sure we have done a wise thing?"

"What do you mean, Fox?" Coyote asked.

"Should we not bring these two together? This race will only cause trouble, I think," Fox observed.

"You think that way because you are not as wise as I am," Coyote admonished. "My plan will bring this brother and sister together for all time."

Both brother and sister traveled without event the first day, and each made camp for the night. But Gold Eagle was worried that his sister might beat him back to Coyote, so he began to devise a plan to delay her, and ensure his victory. In the morning, he would seek out Brother Rattlesnake to help him.

Bright Eyes had made camp too, but unlike her brother she had no reason to be concerned. She knew in her heart she would win this race. After she set up her camp, she made the sacred prayer circle and asked the Creator for strength and courage to succeed on her quest.

T he next morning, the two siblings began again on their respective journeys. Gold Eagle traveled along without incident, but when the sun was high, Bright Eyes encountered danger. She was traveling along a rocky trail, when from under a rock, a rattlesnake crawled. His rattles made such a terrible sound, Bright Eyes horse spooked, reared, and ran away. The girl was thrown to the ground, and was momentarily unable to move. Rattlesnake crawled to where she was, and Bright Eyes was afraid she would be bitten. She was surprised when the snake spoke to her.

"Are you injured?" Rattlesnake asked.

"No," the girl replied fearfully. "Do you intend to bite me?"

"I have no intention of harming you," said the snake, "Gold Eagle asked me only to delay you."

"Why are you helping by brother win this race?" Bright Eyes asked.

"Because I want to get back at Coyote for flattening my head," the snake answered spitefully. "I think Coyote and Fox made a bet. Coyote wants you to win, and Fox wants Gold Eagle to win. If I delay you, your brother will win, and Coyote will lose, then I will be happy. You may continue on your journey. No harm will come to you."

Bright Eyes remembered the story of how the people came to be in the country of the Clearwater. Coyote became angry with Bear and Rattlesnake for not protecting the people from the monster. He hit Grizzly Bear in the nose causing his snout to be short, and he stepped on Rattlesnake's head causing it to be flat.

"So, Bright Eyes thought, "this is just a game for Coyote and Fox. They were using us for their entertainment. I will still win this race, for I know a shortcut."

Just as Rattlesnake had said, Bright Eyes encountered no more trouble, and she reached her valley safely. Once there, she thanked the Creator for His protection, then she made a medicine bag to take back to Coyote. In the bag, she placed the following: soil, kous kous, rabbit fur, deer and buffalo skin, as well as dried fish. Also she added small sticks to represent lodge poles. Finally, she sprinkled water over them. All of the items she collected represented the things the people would need to live. When she was finished, she again thanked the Creator for providing these items and set out on her journey back to the place where Fox and Coyote waited.

Gold Eagle too, collected the items he felt would be pleasing to Coyote and Fox. He killed an antelope and made pemmican (a kind of jerky), he dug camas bulbs, and killed an elk for his hide, meat, and sinew. All of these things the people used to live. He packed these things on his horse and led him back to Coyote and Fox.

While the brother and sister were gone, Coyote and Fox amused themselves with gambling games and races. But soon they became bored with these activities. It was a good thing Gold Eagle returned because Coyote was about to form a new plan to cure his boredom.

"Aha," Coyote laughed, "Gold Eagle has returned first; that means you lose our bet, Fox."

"Do not be so sure," Fox replied. "Look there, brother; up the valley; Bright Eyes has returned as well."

"Very well," Coyote said, "we will call the race a tie."

I t was true, the young people returned at the same time. But Gold Eagle was not satisfied with a tie.

"Coyote," the boy said angrily, "a tie is not right. You said the winner would be the one who brought back the most important things the people need to live. Look at the valuable things I have brought. My sister brought back nothing."

"That is not true," Bright Eyes retorted, "I have filled my medicine bag with everything the people need. What is more, the Creator blessed these things. That makes me the winner."

"She is right," Coyote admitted, "the Creator told me so, when He instructed me to create the people."

"I agree," said Fox. "But look at the things Gold Eagle has brought. The Creator knows the people need these things as well. I think both children have succeeded in their quest. I think they outsmarted us both."

"You are correct," Coyote agreed. "I declare the race to be a tie."

Gold Eagle was enraged, and he shouted, "No! I will not accept this decision! Bright Eyes has not won. Remember, Coyote, you said we must not lose your horses or we would be punished. Ask my sister where your horse is!"

It was true; Bright Eyes had lost Coyote's horse. It was up to him to punish the girl.

"Wait!" the girl called. "It was Gold Eagle who caused me to lose your horse, Coyote. Ask Rattlesnake what happened; he will tell you the truth."

Rattlesnake had journeyed back to the valley where Coyote and Fox were waiting and had hidden under a bush to watch.

"She is telling the truth. Gold Eagle persuaded me to delay Bright Eyes so he would win the race," the snake admitted.

"I see," Coyote mused. "It seems since you have been dishonest Gold Eagle, so I will declare your sister the winner."

Instead of being grateful, Bright Eyes teased her brother. "My brother, it is apparent you are not as good at tracking and hunting as me. It will be my great pleasure to hear the elders tell of my victory around the camp fires." The girl laughed.

Fox and Coyote were both angered by the girl's boasting. They had a conversation and decided what they would do.

"Fox and I have had a discussion. It is true you both succeeded on your quest, but your victories were not honorable. This is my decision. The people will live in the valley you found Bright Eyes, and both of you will show them the way, Gold Eagle. It is true the people will tell stories of your race, but it will be a sad story of a brother who cheated and a girl who became arrogant because of her success," Coyote said.

H e Who Sees the Past stopped speaking. The children gathered around him looked at each other; their confusion was apparent. As usual, Little Fox spoke up.

"Grandfather, I do not understand. What is the meaning of this story?"

The old man looked around the circle; then he explained.

"By the use of magic, Coyote transported them all to the entrance of the beautiful valley Bright Eyes had found. On the high hill overlooking the valley on the west side of the river, he told both Bright Eyes and Gold Eagle to mount his prized spotted horse. With a wave of his hand Coyote transformed them to stone. Gold Eagle was transformed into a beautiful golden eagle perched on his sister's outstretched arm. The two would remain there forever, mounted on a strong Appaloosa horse, as a reminder to the people to always live as the Creator wished. Now do you understand?" the old man asked.

"Yes, I see," said Little Fox, "Coyote made them into stone because Bright Eyes and Gold Eagle had forgotten what the Creator wanted. He wanted people to be good to each other and work together for the welfare of all the people, not for personal gain."

Small Beaver added, "Coyote turned Bright Eyes and Gold Eagle into stone to remind us that greed is a bad thing."

"Yes," Grandfather warned, "remember to always do good deeds because it is the right thing to do . . ."

I 'm not sure what brought me back to a state of consciousness, but my eyes opened to find Gayle standing over me.

"A bomb could drop next door and you'd never hear it," my friend complained.

"That's because if a bomb dropped next door, I'd probably be dead," I replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Bret, are you kidding?" Gayle answered. "Do you mean you haven't heard?"

"Heard what? Damn it, Gayle, get to the point," I demanded.

"Proctor resigned less than an hour ago. Whatever you said in his class turned the History department upside down."

"Oh my God," I breathed. "That's not right."

"Excuse me, but wasn't it you who said he had no business teaching a cockroach, let alone impressionable young minds?" Gayle asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I did," I admitted, "but I was wrong. What I said, what I did was wrong. I had no right to call him out in his own class, and if that is what prompted his resignation . . ."

I stopped in mid-sentence and pick up my keys and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Gayle asked.

"I'm going to see if I can straighten out the mess I made," I said.

"I don't understand," Gayle responded. "Why would you do anything to help Proctor?"

"Gayle . . . it's the right thing to do."