Navajo Long Walk (11 page)

Kee struggled through the brush in the direction of the moan. Half-way down the wash he heard it again, above him. Looking back up along the tangled thicket, Kee finally saw Jeff. He was spread-eagled on a huge clump of yucca that was growing through a thick stand of sagebrush. Kee fought his way toward him. The white boy's eyes were closed, his face scratched and bleeding. When Kee was as close as he could get to the heavy brush, he called to Jeff. The white boy opened his eyes; a faint half-smile crossed his face. “I've been praying someone would find me. I tried to pry myself loose until my back was torn to pieces.”

Kee was too short to reach over the brush to get hold of Jeff. “Wait, I get rope.”

He wormed his way back to the top of the wash. Smoke stood at the edge watching for him. Kee unwound the rope hanging from the saddle, then tied one end securely to the horn. Holding the other end, he went back to Jeff. “I will toss a rope to you. Hold it until I climb to the top again. Smoke will pull you off the yucca. Then he will stand still until you pull yourself out of the wash by holding to the rope.”

Kee tossed the rope. It fell short of Jeff's hands the first time but the next time it fell across his body and he found it.

As soon as Kee was at the top again, he put Smoke in position to pull away from the wash. Cupping his hands
to his mouth, he shouted, “We are ready to pull. It will hurt bad.”

At Kee's command, Smoke pulled slowly forward. A horrible scream rose from the wash as Jeff was jerked off the yucca. Kee shuddered, knowing how much it was hurting Jeff. “Stop,” the white boy screamed.

Kee stopped the horse, gently patting Smoke's face and talking softly so he would stand still. He was about to go back and try to help Jeff when he saw the white boy's head and arms appear above the wash. He ran to help pull him over the edge. At the top, Jeff let go of the rope and collapsed face down in the dirt. His shirt was in shreds, his back a mass of bleeding scratches. Kee knelt beside him. “Rest here. I will go to the fort. Your father will bring a wagon.”

Jeff raised his head slightly. “Wait, Kee. In a minute I can ride Smoke.”

Kee said, “I did not know a white boy could be so brave.”

When Jeff stood up, Kee helped him into the saddle. “I will lead Smoke. I might hurt your back if I ride behind you.”

“I'll lean forward so you don't touch my back. I want you to ride too.”

As they rode slowly, Kee said, “Now I take you to my grandmother. She will put her medicine on your many scratches. It will sting but it will heal them.”

“I guess I can take it,” Jeff replied. “It can't hurt worse than yucca thorns.”

Kee stiffened with fear when they reached the river. He was glad the white boy could not see his face. Once on shore, he let his breath out quietly and turned Smoke downriver.

Gentle Woman was sitting on the ground weaving at her loom when the boys reached the dugout. On seeing Jeff's back, she shook her head sadly, telling Kee that his grandmother was down inside the dugout. Before Kee could pull back the canvas cover, Wise One's head appeared above ground. “Grandmother, this is the son of my captain. He is hurt. Will you help him?”

Wise One smiled and disappeared. Almost as soon as she was out of sight she reappeared up the wooden ladder carrying a clay bowl with ointment. She spread it gently on Jeff's back. Knowing how the ointment smarted, Kee watched the white boy. Though he winced and drew his breath between his teeth, Jeff did not cry out.

On the way back to the fort Jeff asked, “Do Navajos always live in homes like yours?”

Kee bristled. “In Navajoland we do not live in holes in the ground like prairie dogs. There we can get logs to build hogans.”

“You don't like it here, do you?”

“No Navajo likes it here.”

“After living in St. Louis, I kind of like this open country.”

“We do not like this flat land that everywhere looks the same,” Kee said. “Navajoland has mountains and mesas covered with pines and juniper trees. Our hogans are not muddy holes in the ground. There our sheep grow fat. Our corn ripens. In the bottom of our red rock canyon peach trees grow. Here is nothing.”

“When I grow up, I want to be an explorer like Colonel Kit Carson. Then I'll come to see your country.”

The boys had come close to the riverbank. Jeff said, “When my back is healed we can swim together. You'll be glad to know I swim much better than I ride. You won't have to rescue me from the river.”

Kee was quiet for so long that Jeff asked. “Don't you like to swim?”

“I do not swim,” Kee answered. “Where I lived before there is no place to swim.”

After a long silence Jeff said, “Yesterday I watched you ride Smoke from the officers' quarters to the corral. You rode so easily you looked as if you were part of the horse. I've never had a place to keep a horse, and I'm a bit afraid of them, but I wasn't going to let you find out. So early this morning I asked a soldier to saddle Smoke for me and went out to practice riding.” He chuckled a little. “You see what happened to me. But I just had to get back on Smoke after he dumped me, or I'd never have enough nerve to ride again.” He waited for Kee to say something. When he didn't, Jeff said, “Look, Kee, I'd like to learn to ride like you do. You teach me and I'll teach you how to swim.”

Kee was about to say, “I do not want to learn.” Then the memory of the horrible day he forded the Rio Grande flashed through his mind. Had he been able to swim he
might have saved Small Burro for his grandmother. “You will show me how to swim. We will help each other.”

“It's a bargain, Kee, and we'll have fun doing it.”

While Jeff's many scratches were healing, Kee found a place on the riverbank behind a growth of salt cedar where he could practice wading without being seen. He shuddered with fear each time he tried, even in water that came only to his knees. He persisted until he could force himself to wade in to his waist. The first day Jeff was able to go in the river, Kee mustered up enough courage to get wet all over. In a few days, Jeff had him swimming clumsily, then with more ease. Soon, Kee showed such enthusiasm he was able to coax a few other Navajo boys to take advantage of Jeff's lessons.

As Kee was on his way to the stables one morning he heard galloping hoofs behind him. He whirled around to see Ganado Mucho astride his big, black horse. The Navajo headman reined in beside Kee. “I stopped at your hogan to find you. Kee, our Comanche enemies are making more and more raids upon our horses and cattle and sheep. So we need more men and boys to help keep the animals closer to the fort. I know you are a good horseman. I have seen you on the captain's horse. Will you have time with your school and work at the stables to help bring some of the animals in each day before sun-bearer leaves the sky?”

Kee's eyes shone. He was proud to be asked to do a man's work. “I do not have to work at the stables. I just like to be with Smoke. I have taught the captain's son to ride and will show him how to take care of Smoke. But what can I ride to bring in the animals?”

“You can ride Little Mare. She is one of my horses I keep staked near my hogan. Do you know which one I mean?” Ganado Mucho asked.

Kee answered, “Yes, I know her.” But he thought, “Ugh, that ugly little brown beast with the crooked white stripes down one side of her face.”

Ganado Mucho must have noticed the boy's disappointment. He said, “I know Little Mare is not large and handsome like Smoke, but she is good with cattle.”

Kee managed a half smile. “She is a horse so I will like her.”

At first Kee compared everything about Little Mare with his ideal, Smoke. She was ugly; he was the most beautiful horse in existence. She had stubby legs and a rough gait; he had long graceful legs and the smoothest gait of any horse he had ever seen. But after riding Little Mare for several days, he began to admire her wisdom. She seemed able to outguess ornery animals and she soon had Kee convinced that she could have rounded them up by herself, she was that smart.

He began to look out for Little Mare's welfare. When work was finished he took her to the stables where he could find her a little hay. He improved her coat by grooming her with a brush and a currycomb. She kept one brown ear pointed forward and her head turned in the direction Kee was working on her. He talked softly to her as he worked. Before leaving her at night, he staked her with a long rope near the river where she could find something to eat.

One afternoon as Kee approached Little Mare to begin work, she raised her head and gave a whinny of delight. Kee ran to the horse, put his arms around her neck, and laid his face against hers. “That's the nicest greeting I have ever had. Smoke has never done that for me.” The whinny became a daily greeting.

Now whenever Kee had time, he and Jeff took long rides together, he on Little Mare and Jeff on Smoke. Although Kee was sure he would never ride like a Navajo, Jeff was becoming a fair horseman and loved to ride. And for Kee, Little Mare was the finest of all horses.

One morning at the end of May, not only the bugle but the fort cannon shattered the quiet
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dawn. Kee rolled from under his sheepskin, pulling on his shirt as he ran in the direction of the fort. Along the way, Navajos were climbing out of dugouts, running from brush shelters or rolling out from under ragged blankets to hurry toward the fort. All had expressions of wonder on their faces.

Kee saw Jeff coming on Smoke. As soon as the horse was close enough, the white boy told Kee, “General Sherman and other officers came late last night. The cannon firing was a salute to them. They have come to talk about a peace treaty. Barboncito and Ganado Mucho and some of your other headmen are also at the fort. Hop astride. We can go sit underneath the window outside the council room and maybe hear what some of them say. But you'll have to tell me what the Navajos say.”

Happiness surged through Kee. “There will be an interpreter, or how could the general and other chiefs understand each other?”

Hundreds of Navajos from all directions were converging on the parade grounds. Kee tethered Smoke to the hitching rail. The boys ran around to the back of the officers' quarters, along the narrow, wooden porch to the
window of the council room, and squatted down to listen.

Kee whispered, “Barboncito is begging General Sherman to look at the burrows that are our homes. He wants the general to taste the nasty, bitter water of the Pecos. He asks him to watch the few sheep we have left trying to find a blade of grass in this bare land. He says this land does not like us, and neither does the water.”

Kee's eyes shone with love when he heard the voice of Ganado Mucho pleading, “Let us go back where we can build hogans and live as men, not animals. We will live in peace. Only let us go home.”

The long talks lasted three days. On June 1, 1868, a peace treaty was signed between the United States of America and the Navajo, allowing the Navajos to return to their home territory, that would now become their reservation.