Soldier Sister, Fly Home Page 10

  The second package was tightly wrapped in brown paper, a grocery bag turned inside out. I reached inside the box, and my fingers touched something soft. Could it be? I looked.

  “Moccasins!” I pulled them out and held them to my chest. “Navajo moccasins!” They were softer than anything I’d ever held, made of white doeskin with suede bottoms. I slipped them on and stood up. The soft leather wrapped up my legs, almost to my knees. They fit perfectly.

  “Made for your kinaaldá ceremony. You are changing from girl to woman. It is almost time.”

  I gave my grandmother a long, big hug, very un-Navajo. She laughed. “All is beautiful again, Hózh.” Her eyes were smiling too. “Go outside. Take them for their first walk here, tonight, in this canyon.”

  I stepped outside, sat on a rock, and looked up at the immense sky. “Thank you for keeping us safe, Blue and me. Please keep my sister safe.” I walked to the sheep corral, thanked them for sharing their friend. Then I went over to the horses. “All is beautiful again, Hózh náhásd’.” Blue nickered and nuzzled my hand. I laughed, remembering that time he bit me.

  Flying on Blue. Gaby was right. I fingered the sand, still damp in my pocket.

  chapter nineteen

  wild

  The warmth of the day had cooled to evening’s chill. When I returned to the hogan, Shimá was already sleeping. I lay down on my cot, pulled up the wool blanket. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out. But not for long. I felt the earth trembling, and I was gasping for air, trying to shout, to run. My legs wouldn’t move. A wall of water rushed closer. My eyes flew open. All was dark. I was in my bed, safe. The nightmare was gone. I curled up tight on the narrow cot, reached for floppy-headed Pluto, and remembered I hadn’t brought him to sheep camp.

  As soon as I closed my eyes, it started again—the same nightmare, water roaring, the ground shaking. Blue rearing. Red mud swirling around us. In the distance was a giant boulder. A Yé’ii stood on top. His face was sad, and his empty hand was held out. Where were the cookies? Of course. They were gone. Everything. Washed away. Gone.

  Now the Yé’ii was riding Blue away. Blue broke loose, whinnied. Stop. Come back. I tried to yell. No words came out.

  I woke up, sweaty and shivering. Had something happened? To my sister? To Blue?

  Another Yé’ii dream. Yé’ii weren’t supposed to appear in dreams. Gaby had explained that to me a long time ago. I was little and hadn’t really listened. She had said something about needing a ceremony if one ever did appear in a dream, but why? And what happened if I didn’t tell anyone and never had a ceremony?

  Blue whinnied from his corral, and this time it was real. I had never heard him call out in the night before.

  I wrapped the blanket around me and hurried out to the corral. Blue sniffed at me, snorted, backed away, began running in circles.

  “What’s wrong? Another storm coming?” I searched the sky, but it was clear. The full moon shone silver on the canyon walls, changing the familiar landscape into an eerie place of stone statues and shadows. I listened but heard nothing unusual, not even a coyote yipping. Blue trotted over, tossed his head, blew out a snoutful of dust.

  “Still upset about today?” I shivered. “Me too.” I held out a flick of hay. Blue backed away. “Maybe we both need to take a long run, feel solid dry earth beneath us.” I tossed the hay into the corral. “OK. First thing in the morning, we’ll take a run.” I filled his feed bucket with oats, glanced around one last time, and walked back to the hogan.

  —

  The next time I opened my eyes it was morning. The nightmare had not returned, and I could smell coffee.

  Shimá stood in the doorway, staring at the horses.

  Blue was prancing around and around in his corral, whinnying and kicking at the fence. I got up, hurried over to her. “What’s going on with him?”

  “The mares. He smells the young one. She’s come into season. Earlier than I figured.”

  Blue snorted, ran from one end of his corral to the other. I threw on my clothes and started out the door. Shimá held my arm. “Stay here. He’s a stallion, too crazy to go near when he’s worked up like this.”

  Blue ran straight at the fence and reared, his front legs wheeling. The top railing splintered and tumbled off. Blue jumped over the remaining rails and tore right over to the mares. Already Chaco and Bandit were prancing, trotting, calling back. He kicked at their fence until the railings shattered and leaped into their corral. Tail up, ears back, he bit at their rumps, rounding them up. His own herd. He wanted them out.

  “Stop, you stupid horse! Stop!” I yelled.

  “Wait.” Shimá held tight to my arm.

  Blue raced around the mares, reared, and then jumped over the broken railings. The mares followed. Blue circled back, nipping, urging them on, and led them down the wash.

  “I’m going after them.”

  “Stay here. Blue’s dangerous. I need to move the sheep upstream where they can graze. The dogs can guard them. We can go after the horses together.”

  “No, Shimá. That’s too much for you, and it’ll take too long. I can run after the horses right now. They’re headed down the wash. Their tracks will be easy to follow.”

  “I don’t know….”

  “Better if I go now. I’ll catch the mares, bring them back.”

  “Stay away from Blue.”

  “Blue won’t hurt me. I know he won’t.”

  “Catch Chaco. Bandit will follow. Once they’re back, Blue will show up.” Shimá frowned. “One hour. Be back. With or without the horses.”

  I grabbed a halter, stuffed my pockets with sweet oats, and raced down the wash. After a half mile or so, their tracks left the main canyon and veered off into a muddy arroyo. I had gone that way once with Grandma and the sheep. A little farther down was an open area with a wide meadow. Maybe that’s where Blue was taking the mares.

  I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them calling to one another. I wasn’t sure which way to go, so I ran to the top of a low dune. There they were.

  Blue was shiny with sweat, running around the other two, prancing, head bobbing, tail held high. Darting one way, then the other, he never stopped moving. He kept prancing around Bandit, nipping her rump, nickering, calling to her.

  She began to return his dance.

  Bandit high-stepped in circles with her tail arched. Bobbing her head, she answered, snorting and neighing an unmistakable reply.

  Blue neighed too. They touched noses, sniffed. Backed away, tails swishing, heads held high. Blue trumpeted. His entire throat vibrated. His body quivered.

  Around and around he circled, ever closer, kicking up grit and dust.

  Bandit pranced back, head raised, and screamed in a high, excited voice.

  Their heads bobbed, and their eyes were wide and fixed on each other. The rhythm of their movements quickened until suddenly Bandit stopped. She stood statue still, panting, her back legs planted, slightly parted. Blue circled behind. I couldn’t look away. I had watched plenty of livestock mate: sheep, goats, and cattle too. But it was never like this. This was powerful. Beautiful.

  When they were finished, Bandit slipped from underneath Blue. Tail down, she walked over closer to Chaco and began grazing.

  Blue trotted to the top of a nearby ledge and turned to look at me.

  He watched as I approached, holding out a handful of sweet oats, calling his name. He hesitated, still looking at me. Suddenly he spun around and took off.

  Blue was gone.

  chapter twenty

  broken

  Chaco and Bandit were easy to catch. They weren’t interested in anything but grazing now. I looped a lead rope around Chaco’s neck and slipped on the halter. “Come on, we’re heading home.” Bandit trotted behind.

  I put the mares in their corral. Shimá had tied a temporary board across the smashed fence. I got some wire, found a hammer and jar of nails, and pounded the board more firmly into the posts.

  “Shimá?”
I called, thinking she would be somewhere around.

  No answer, and the herd was gone. Then I remembered. It would take Shimá an hour or more to get them to the nearest pasture and for her to return here. I still had time to catch Blue before Shimá got back. I ran back to the meadow and followed Blue’s tracks.

  I heard the birds before I saw them. A strange, loud hissing—ugly and unnerving. Only one kind of bird made such a disgusting and terrifying sound. Vultures! “No!” I yelled. I ran faster until I saw them. “Get out of here, you stupid birds!” I shouted, waving my arms. A dozen or more birds rose up out of the arroyo like a black cloud, circling high above, around and around, but never out of sight.

  Blue’s tracks were clearly visible in the damp sand. He had turned into a narrow, steep-sided arroyo, climbed out of the bottom, and followed a trail along the top. It was hard to climb up the sides of the arroyo. The sand was still loose from the recent rains, and it was probably forty or fifty feet to the top. Blue must have struggled too, since I could see that his hoofprints were sunk deep into the sand. “Blue! Where are you? Blue!”

  Then I heard something. Something I wanted to hear. Blue?

  I listened again. At first nothing. Then the softest sort of nicker.

  I ran along the top edge of the embankment. My throat felt dry and tight, as if it were closing up. I followed Blue’s tracks until they stopped. The entire side of the embankment had collapsed. I realized Blue’s mistake. A few days ago this arroyo must have been swollen with water. The rushing torrent had undercut the steep sides, forming a cornice, a sort of ledge hanging out in space. Nothing underneath to support it. But from the top, it would have looked like solid ground.

  Blue had run along this ridge. He had been standing here, where the tracks ended, when the lip of the earthen embankment collapsed. Blue was caught in the mud slide and tumbled straight down to the creek bed.

  I looked down.

  “Blue!” I screamed.

  Blue whinnied. He tried to stand, his hind legs scraping against rock, trying to push up. The slabs of sandstone were streaked with blood. He tried again but fell back.

  “Blue!” I ran, half-sliding, half-running down the slope of mud, rock, boulders, and broken branches “Blue!”

  Blue raised his head. His front legs were twisted beneath him. Splintered bones stuck out of the torn muscle and skin.

  I stopped, suddenly dizzy. I closed my eyes. This wasn’t happening.

  I crouched next to Blue, cradled his head. His neck was wet with sweat. I rubbed between his ears the way that Blue loved. I stared at his legs. What should I do? I knew the answer. I didn’t want to know it.

  “Shimá will know what to do. I’ll get bandages. It’ll be OK. It will. It will.”

  I wiped the froth from his mouth. “You need water.”

  I didn’t have any water.

  chapter twenty-one

  sing

  I tried to run. My legs were like wood. But I had to run.

  Smoke curled up from the hogan’s chimney, blue-gray smoke. Perfectly normal. Perfectly fine. Maybe I was waking up from another terrible nightmare. When I stepped inside, Shimá would offer me a cup of coffee. Blue would be waiting in the corral.

  Shimá looked at me.

  “Blue?” she asked.

  Her one-word question, his name spoken, it hit like a blow to the stomach. “I found him.” It was hard to breathe, hard to speak. “Blue’s hurt.”

  “How bad?”

  “His legs. His front legs.” I looked down. “Broken.”

  Maybe the legs can heal. Maybe we can wrap Blue’s legs and find a way to make them heal.

  I looked at my grandmother. “What should I do?”

  “T’áado ’áhó’ne’ída?” my grandmother answered me in Navajo. “What is there to do?”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  My grandmother did not answer.

  I already knew. There would be no healing, no second chance.

  The answer would break my sister’s heart.

  “Tell me how to do it,” I whispered.

  “You know.” She reached for the rifle over the door. “I will come with you.”

  “No.”

  She placed the rifle on the kitchen table. “I understand.”

  I walked outside, sat near the stream where the sand was cool and damp. No, I cannot do this. I closed my eyes and saw what I did not want to see. Gramps had cradled the young sheep and sung. We sing as life comes into this world. We sing when life travels out.

  We sing.

  The vultures would come back soon.

  My mind filled with sounds and visions. I could hear Blue’s nicker. I could feel the wind whipping through my hair, the river rushing beneath us. From the top of a cottonwood, a raven stared. A Yé’ii with a blue face sat next to it. He reached toward me, holding out his hand, asking. I had nothing to give, nothing. My sister had left. We had made promises. I hadn’t been able to keep mine. Could she keep hers? Will she ever forgive me?

  Blue whinnied. The raven hopped one branch closer. I shook my head, “No!” An eagle feather lay on top of my pillow. Fly, my little sister.

  We did. Blue and I, in this canyon.

  I opened my eyes. A lizard ran across the sand, its tongue flicking in and out. I looked back up. The tree was empty—no raven, no Yé’ii. No whinny from Blue.

  I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to do it now.

  chapter twenty-two

  blue

  I walked back to the hogan. Grandma stood in the doorway, tears in her eyes. I looked at the kitchen table, stared at Grandpa’s rifle. Finally I picked it up. The cold metal felt strange in my hands.

  I prayed. Shimá Sání stood next to me. Neither of us spoke. She took a pinch of corn pollen from the pouch she always wore and sprinkled it over the gun while quietly speaking Navajo.

  I slipped Grandpa’s ammo box into my pocket.

  “Are you sure you want to go alone?”

  “This is mine to do.”

  My grandmother handed me a plastic jug. “Water.”

  —

  I was close, almost back to where Blue lay, when I saw them again, the ugliest birds in the desert. Red naked heads. Black thick bodies, hunched over. Turkey vultures. Those birds were so big they weighed down the branches where they sat, waiting. I picked up a rock and threw it. Then another and another. The vultures flew up, a swirl of feathers, their wings beating hard.

  They circled, black against the hot white sky, shadows that glided in slow, wide circles, dipping lower with each turn. My heart hurt.

  Blue could hardly lift his head. I sat down, put his head in my lap, held him, sang to him. I poured water into my cupped hands, but he would not drink. I held Blue until my arms were numb. I stroked his long powerful neck, dark with sweat. I closed my eyes, rocking, rocking, and as I stroked Blue’s head, I sang. I had set the rifle behind his head. Blue would never see it.

  Gently, so very gently, I placed his head in the soft sand.

  I stood and picked up the rifle.

  “Look, Blue, up there, turquoise sky, everywhere,” I said softly.

  Turquoise sky.

  “Fly home,” I sang.

  “Fly home.”

  chapter twenty-three

  stone

  I carried rocks.

  I carried rocks to cover Blue so the vultures could not reach him.

  I carried rocks until every part of me hurt.

  I became like stone.

  I heard someone yelling, crying, singing.

  “Aaaah-ya! Aaah-ya-ya, yah!”

  It took a moment before I realized it was my voice, my tears, my song.

  Then I was silent. Run. But I could not move.

  Sorry does not lift a raven back into the sky. Run. Run. RUN.

  Sorry does not give a second chance.

  I tried to run but couldn’t. I walked.

  —

  When I finally returned to the hogan, my grandmother took the rif
le and put it back in its place above the door. I stared around the room. It looked just the same. How could that be?

  “I covered him with rocks.”

  Shimá put a cold wet cloth on my forehead and wiped my face. “You did what needed to be done, what you never wanted to do. First, drink.” She handed me a cup of water. “And then we must accept the journey. Often I have prayed for that acceptance. The second dawn at day’s end, unto the blue skies, there’s a beginning, and there’s an ending—all in sacredness and beauty.”

  “I need to tell Gaby.”

  “She will know.” Shimá gestured toward the wash. “Go. Walk with your sister.” She continued speaking in Navajo, and I understood her words. “Tears feed the earth, become earth. Let the earth hold you.”

  I began to walk. Then I ran, and in the running, memories flowed through me.

  Drums calling. Families walking in silence, a procession of people as they passed by two little children.

  Two little children. Life walks forward.

  Run. Run. Run.

  My legs became a song.

  Blue,

  forgive me,

  teach me.

  Canyon walls,

  hold me,

  hold me.

  Who will lift the raven out of the dirt?

  How does the soul forgive itself?

  I run to ask you,

  forgive me.

  I ran until there was no running left. I climbed to the top of a dune covered with ripples like frozen waves. The sky had changed to the deep purple-blue of just before sunset. Evening.

  This day ending.

  I sat in the warm sand, wrapped my arms around my legs, rested my head on my knees, and closed my eyes. I saw Blue bobbing his head, sniffing for sweet oats. I held out my hands. Blue nuzzled my hand and ate. He raised his head, trumpeted to the turquoise sky.

  My tears fell onto the sand.

  chapter twenty-four