She Will Ride With HIm to the Shiprock Fair

She Will Ride With Him to the Shiprock Fair

Early it was, twilight, the time before dawn. You could hear the sound of a hammer, like it was hitting an anvil. In the Cha'O -shadehouse, there was fire made from cedar that burned brightly giving off an orange glow lighting up the walls. He stood there, an old man in some ways his eyes looking at the besh la gai- silver, white metal he was hitting, there lay on a small table were files, and metal stamps.

He picked one up and set it upon an imaginary line on the silver concho and lifting the hammer struck it. It hit with a solid sound of being worked and marked for all time. His steady hand placed these lines and he filed away, the silver dust covering his levis as he worked it.

Outside the air was chilly, the cold time had come, the sound of thunder was gone, and in this early light there was dusting of white flakes, the first frost. He stood for a moment looking East and could see it, just a trace but enough. How is it the time of change comes, from summer sings to the coming of the yeibeche, the winter dance. The sound of a faint hoot was heard in the distance, he began to sing to himself,

Neyezani is coming from that place
Far off it is
at the head of the earth
off to the North
coming with pine, animal fur
and dancing around the firelight

He turns and sits down once again, feeling the soft silver in his hands and pounds it out, it takes shape and as time passes he takes a soft cloth and rubs it against his leg, over and over again.

In the faint light of dawn, the sun begins to change the twilight from dark blue to the colors of dawn. He slips the concho on a belt wit the others and it is finished, it is done. He setps outside the cha'o and in the blaze of pink and gold light with a touch of turuoise blue he holds the belt up and each concho matches the other, the chisel marks and stamps have made their mark, it is ready.

The blue bird sings its song and he reaches for a dipper of cool water and drinks it slowly. It is good to be alive, YIII!

He hears the sounds of his woman, making the sounds of early morning, making bread and cooking side the small house next door. He hears her feet walking about and remembers a time not so long ago.

Riding to the Shiprock Fair
She sits on a horse
a black one glistens from the combed hair
set with a silver bridle
She rides in the early morning dawn,
her brown skin glowing pink the early light
velveteen shirt of red, and a white skirt
deerskin legging cover her feet
a slight breeze catches her long hair in teh wind
Yasho she rides with me
Yasho she rides with me
In the pale light she rides with me
In the bright light of day she rides with me
Across mountain passes she rides with me
In the cool of twilight she rides with me
we go to the Shiprock Fair, Nataani Nez
to trade silver and see all that is there
beyond Table Mesa, Sanostee and along the river
There it is, and she will cook for me
we will stand in the fireiight and
watch as the sound of winter comes
the Yei-be-che will dance and we delight in it
so it has been for as long as we can remember
His mind can see the glint of light in her eyes

He hears her come outside,
the sound of screen door opening
he can see that the twinkle in her eyes is bright and clear
In this early light they stand together,
their hair now gray,
many years have come and gone
she stands with him at dawn
she stands with him at dawn
he tells her this is for you
a sterling concho belt glows
in the light of white metal
they will look at you say
who is that one with him
that is some silver belt she has on
a whisp of wind catches her gray hair
and she laughs at the thought of it
Come inside and eat, old man
then we can get ready to go
to the Shiprock Fair
so it goes in the early light of dawn

Johnny Rustywire