What about those Rez Dogs?

In Fort Defiance I came home to my place late one evening just the other day and Phil who is my best friend and neighbor has a cat. Now, I have a rez dog, Swifty. Now Swifty was sitting at the front porch with Phil's cat in his mouth.

The cat didn’t look good, in fact he looked dead. I didn't know how to tell Phil about his cat, so I took it inside and thought about what to do about it, so then I washed it up, blow dried the cats’ long hair and snuck over to the back porch of Phil’s house and put the cat there as if it were sleeping. Later I saw Phil and he didn't say anything about his cat.

The next day the same thing happened, Swifty had Phil's cat when I came home. I picked the cat up and thinking on what to do now I took her inside and washed it, blow dried the fur and then snuck the cat back over to Phil’s place and put it where it was before. Later on that evening when I saw Phil he didn’t say anything about his cat.

Well the next day the same thing happened again, this time I put the cat on the front porch of Phil’s house. By this time the cat looked worse for wear. When I got back to my place and went inside I heard Phil's wife just scream so loud you could hear it a long ways off. My wife and I ran over to their house and Phil was just standing there. I asked Phil what happened.

He looked at me and said, I just don't get it, that cat died three days ago and I buried it and she keeps coming back!

Old Indian at Bee Nah

During his past week I was in Bee Nah and ran into an old friend who I hadn't seen for 13 years or so. He looked good, he has a sharp mind and in a way is a person who questions why people do the things they do and as a result can rub people the wrong way, but he often speaks for natives.

He told me he has been living in a tipi for the past five years with his wife and two sons. He is by his name given to him when he was a child by his grandmother, called "old Indian", but not in English but in his native tongue. He has a good heart, a strong conviction to the grassroots people and a traditional lifesyle. He doesn't proselytize it but lives his life quietly without fanfare and yet represents the best of our way of life.

We talked for a while and he had to leave as he takes care of his mother. He himself suffered from polio as a child and walks with a stiff gait, yet his eyes are curiouis taking in everything he sees. He talked about his son and that he has quite an imagination as they have no television. He speaks his own language.

He would be considered poor by many but yet he is not as he retains a dignity by his existence and it can be seen in his countenance. He is not afraid to speak his mind and I got to know him when he was tribal court advocate. He was effective and diligent in the way he spoke for people who could not speak for themselves and even now questions the actions of the tribe and BIA, as well county and state actions that infringe on native issuues.

I was sent a link to a new book on natives that included modern portrains of indians. I went to the site and in looking over the pictures in the book you reference the pictures do not reflect a cross section of native life, but appear to be lacking and yet I can see my friend would never pose for such a picture as it would appear to him pretentious. So it goes on the rez...

A Note to the Students from Monument Valley High School and other schools on the Navajo Reservation.

I want to address the students from Monument Valley High School, Shiprock High School, Many Farms schools and other places of higher learning.

I know that you will be looking at the stories in the book, Navajo Spaceships which you are using in class. I want to apologize to you and all Navajo People for the poor grammar, mispelled words and poor way I used English in the book. The book was published as is, that is the stories are all first drafts that were taken as written from online discussion groups on the internet as I wrote them when I sat down at the computer. I did not forsee publication at that time and when the book was published it was done without any editing or proof reading and for thi sI am sorry. I want to you to know that proper use of the English language is necessary to achieve success in whatever you do.

I wrote the stories to portray life on Navajoland from the native perspective since there are so many misconceptions and hokey things written and hoped to provide some insight into the everyday life of our people, communities and how we get along.

Let me tell you something; I attended a gathering of Native Writers not too long ago, and there were people there representing various universities from the United States and Canada and they told me that because of the mispellings and grammatical errors in the book that it would prevent it from being used more widely at the college level.

I learned a bitter lesson that day that anything you send out should be well written and proper as it speaks for you and you are judged by it.

I monitor this site and will be making corrections to the stories you see online so that they may be more presentable to you for your English classes. I am sorry that the book went out that way as it represents how some perceive the Navajo People to be illiterate and backward which speaks more about me than the Navajo Tribe at large and for this I am sorry as I am Navajo and proud of my heritage.

signed "Johnny Rustywire"- Norman Cambridge, Author of Navajo Spaceships

Where Did the Name "Navajo Spaceships' the title of my book come from?

As some of you may know or not know I wrote a book which is basically of all the short stories I wrote on the internet on sites like Native Web, At.Native; Navajos.Com; Indianz.com and many others over a period of ten years and these were put out in a book called Navajo Spaceships.

Some people think Navajo Spaceships means it deals with aliens, new wave ideas, or science fiction. It does not, it is about travel into the imagination and in particular into my imagination as a Navajo or a native point of view of the world as I see it.

This is also because I am the product of a parochial school, boarding school and public schools situated on or near the Navajo Reservation. I am the result of a government education on the Navajo Reservation.

I often thought of things but wondered how would it be. I have done a lot fo thinking and observed many things as well as being able to work on indian records and indian allotment records for a number of years at the federal regional record centers and National Archives where indian records are stored.

I developed an interest in the lives and stories those records told and some of the experiences of others as well as myself. Some of these stories became short stories that went into the book Navajo Spaceships.

During one of my off times I was looking at the records of Carlisle Indian School, one of the first boarding schools set up for indians in the last century. I often see many pictures in the files of indian students, lots of them but there are rarely ever named, except for their teachers or visiting dignitary.

I looked at them because I am sure there are pictures of me standing with others in particular one occasion I can remember was when Robert F. Kennedy came to the Flagstaff Bordertown Dormitory and all the big shots in the local area came to get their picture of themselves taken with Senator Kennedy and "those Indian kids" one of whom was Me.

Anyway I found a reference to Nellie Robertson, a Sioux girl taken off the plains and sent to Carllisle Indian School, who later became a teacher there until the school closed in 1908.

The thing about her was that once she learned to speak and write English she wrote about life from her native perspective, and on of these stories has survived and if follows. It is about how she envisioned life on the moon from a Sioux girl's perspective and her native upbringing. It amazed me and gave me the thought of writing from my own view of the world of the Navajo reservation, boarding school, growing up and life as it is out in the sticks if you will.

So from that perspective the name Navajo Spaceships came to me for my book, as it is a flight into the imagination of a Navajo from the rez, so I thought I would put here the story Nellie Robertson, a fellow indian boarding school brat wrote for you to see....rustywire

"This little nugget was pointed out to me in the June 27, 1890 INDIAN HELPER by Russell Eagle Bear of Sinte Gleske College. Of all the news he found in those papers, this is the item that caught his eye and he took a photocopy with him. Thank you, Russell, for finding this one.

A COMPOSITION BY ONE OF OUR IMAGINATIVE SIOUX GIRLS

Of the many strange lands and queer places I have visited in my life, the strangest and the one I have experienced more pleasure was my trip to the moon, in 1900. I got on board an air ship which was bound for the moon, one fine morning in June. Quite a number of people were starting for the same place.

For many days we sailed through the air. The scenery all the way was delightful both day and night, but the motion of the ship in air having the same effect as the motion of the ship on water, we did not enjoy the sights very much on the way.

After many days of travelling, we landed in a large city called Ujipa, which means in our language, Greentown. The lunarians resemble the people of the earth in every way but the color of their eyes and hair. The color of their eyes is a bright green and their hair a very bright yellow. Both men and women dress alike, in a loose gown,but you can distinguish them by their way of wearing their hair. The men have long hair and wear it in two or three plaits in the back. The women have short hair and wear little caps to match their eyes. They are a very kind and polite people.

Up in the moon they have no school-houses nor books of any kind from which to read or study. They are a blissful people. They know nothing outside of what is going on in their own world. Money is of no use to them there. Food of every kind grows all the year round. A sort of fruit something like our cheese grows on trees very abundantly, and they call it bread. Corn, potatoes, cabbage and numerous vegetables grow wild. Watermelons, pumpkins and squashes grow on trees, apples, oranges, peaches and grapes may be found in abundance. The people do not work very hard for their food. Their clothes are made from the leaves of a very large plant. These leaves measure about 20 square feet. They make very strong and durable clothes.

The houses are built only of wood and beautiful. The people are ruled over by their king, Nonboose Kiang, which we know as "The Man in the Moon." He is a good, kind man and is liked by all his people.

The amusements and habits of the lunarians are very much like ours. They were so kind to us that when the time came for us to go leave we werevery sorry. I hope sometime in the future to take another trip and see more things of interest.

-Nellie Robertson."

So now you know why Navajo Spaceships is called by this name, it is a book of short stories and in a way inspired by a young native girl who wrote this way before I came along. It is quite a story...idinit. rustywire

Medicinemen for Hire

Medicine man for hire

I have taken a look at the Medicinemanforhire website and have found there are some Navajo men, the Morrisses from Sheepsprings offering their services as practitioners As medicinemen/peyote men. I can not speak for them but these things I remember.

An old man and women rode a matched pair of horses down a long windy dusty road somewhere over by Cow Springs, Tonalea. They carried saddle bags filled with hard goods, turquoise and silver jewelry, heavy stuff.

These would be offered to the man they were going to see. He was of simple means but known to many, even these two who had travelled a 100 miles to see him. They had left a couple of days earlier from the Chuska Mountains crossing along by Star Mountain, skirting Canyon De Chelly, past Round Rock and straight on to Rough Rock and up over Black Mesa. Their clothes were dusty and worn but they carried with them a request that this Singer come to the their place to restore harmony.

A call had gone out after the family and all the relations sat down for a meeting. Someone was ailing and it was decided a Singer was needed. There is a man from way over by Cow Springs someone said and so the old couple wanted to go. They had not been that way for a long time and they wanted to see this country again, so the horses were fed and watered. Family brought out the hard goods, heavy bracelets, three conchos made in the last century by Slim Silversmith. It was good, they packed it away and set out to the west.

The family scattered out into the area, there had to be three places found
where those families would host one night each. The sing goes on for three nights and in a different place each night. Preparations for a sing, cutting wood, gathering plants, these things are what nalis (aunts) do and the old Che’s (grandpas) do as elders, they talk about the important things, who was to sing, take charge of the animals, gathering food, blankets, and help from the local area. Each went his way to different places to ask for help and support for this sing.

As these messengers went out, they would come to a place far from where
they had started. On sighting a horse rider, the children would run into the hogan or chao-, shade house and summon the older folks and parents. In some cases the rider would go up to the place and someone from inside would say, Ohshde’, Come in, and so they went in and sat down reaching for whatever the family was eating without asking and sharing a meal. After some food was eaten they would commence to say in the long way of doing so, the circumstances of what happened at a certain time and exlain the need.

That is how it happens, someone gets ill or sick and so that is why they are there. The family considers this and after a little bit offers what they can, coffee, beans, a sheep, a son-in-law to chop wood, maybe a singer who can make the feet light in the night to the sway of many men and women who sing. My father is one of these men, he could all night and his voice carried far.

There is a cedar log bonfire. It is a beautiful thing to stand near the edge and look out on a group standing close together in the night, not too far from the fire. They sing long and with a rhythm learned over a long time. Some call this a squaw dance, but it is really called a Night Way, there is social dancing to bring good spirits to this place. They sing all night; their voices raising and following the embers that float into the night sky.

A little ways away there are those who dance to the songs as a group on a simple dance floor cleared in the brush. It is ladies choice, women in shawls move about and with a swish, a touch call on the men to dance. The men have to pay, some a dollar, others more. Some want to run and hide, others dance while the stars move slowly across the sky, it is a good night for all.

Not too far off there is movement not seen by many of those there. They come quietly without a sound and they have names like Corn Bug Girl, Pollen Boy, Monster Slayer, Bear Man and many others who move in passed the ongoings outside into the hogan, to the heart of it all. They step into the circle of the Rainbow Guardians and look about them at the Singer who has called them there.

This old man from Tonalea, he speaks each word carefully and slowly, taking care to do everything right, this is his time and he makes it so. Each grain of sand has it’s place, each rattle and song giving a call to those that can provide the restoration of heart, mind and soul to the patient sitting quietly listening and learning.

I stand not too far off on the outside and take a rest on the blankets
set aside for me. My grandmother and mother are making bread for tomorrow, kneading it so it is just right. As for me I take a break and lay down for little bit. I can hear them; those outside and their voices hanging in the air.

Yasho, I am Navajo, Dine’, I am glad to be born during this time. I shall dance in the house of my mother and sing in the places of my father, Dinetah, within the Four Sacred Mountains there is no other place for me…..

Medicinemen for hire, can offer me nothing…..nothing.

rustywire

For those who know a little about such things, it is good to know that the things that are not real fade away in time and are forgotten but those that real continue on with quiet way of life and some things endure and for this I am grateful...

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

Navajo Skinwalkers ...Not Far From Table Mesa

Navajo Skinwalkers Not Far From Table Mesa

The snow was falling as the young Navajo man started walking from Bonds and Bonds store Across the old bridge in Shiprock. It was late afternoon and snow had come early to the rez.

Headed home for from up North, the day had started warm in Wyoming where he started out Getting on the road and sticking a thumb out, hitchhiking back to the rez for a few days, with luck a hot meal at home in the cedars.

The day had gone well but a time in Monticello, a bordertown where how ones looks can decide if you ride or not, and as each car passed he walked on along the old highway and the clouds began to gather and the wind started to blow. He wrapped himself up against the cold and walked on toward Cortez taking in the blue colors of mountains in Colorado, Dibensa, in Navajo and he knew he was not far from home and finally a trucker from Texas stopped and give him ride on toward Four Corners and as the sun set he was in Shiprock.

Bonds and Bonds is an old store with a coffee counter where he got a cup and warmed up. Hoping in a way that some headed south would come in and he could hop in and get a ride on toward home just beyond the horizon to the South in the Chuska mountains. In the distance as he stepped out he could see the outline of Shiprock and so he headed on down the highway, Route 666.

It is narrow thin road the disappears into the southern sky, it looked like a worn out spider web, it just one stretched out piece of patched asphalt so cracked it was as is Spiderwoman herself had woven a web and dropped it across the land and left it there.

He walked on, wet and cold. No one was on the highway and as a truck came up from behind he could hear it before he saw it and it neared he stuck his thumb into the air, asking quietly and silently for a chance to get out of the night breeze as the dark clouds came from the west.

After a long walk it began to snow and he could see Table Mesa start to come up slowly step by step and he just kept walking step by step shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other, but there was no ride as the night fell and it was a dark night.

Step by step, one foot in front of the other he walked, looking at the lonely strips of sage moving in the breeze and the snow started to fall. He looked back toward Shiprock and could not see anything, not a thing so he kept going and he started to think of home.

How would it be to be able to be there, to walk into the old house and hear the crackling of the wood stove and smell some stew and feel the warmth of being there, to be able to feel relaxed and to lay down on the iron spring bed, to rest…fur just a little bed in the old levi quilt…it would be so when he got there.

He pulled up his collar and walked on step by step and thought the Old Man, his pa who would always smile at him and say, “Hey Eshkee”, it seemed no matter what he
was always there and gave him with just a look all the things he needed and yet he gave him not much, but too know he was always s glad to see him.

He shook the cold from his shoulders, and looked up and saw that he was almost past Table Mesa, and on the East side of the road there were some big rocks, an old spring used to be there from the old days, from a time from way before he was born to his Chays’ grandfathers.time.

The snow was piling up and everything was white, but yet he was warm, it was as if was a summer day. It was the walking it had warmed him up and he could see that maybe he should find a place to rest for little bit until early morning and so he stepped away from the old road and walked to the big rocks and there found a cleft where two large rocks came together, out of the wind and the snow fell lightly on the ground and it was soft.

He turned his back to the snow, wrapping his coast up high around his head and sat against the rocks and found he was warm. He remembered that if the snow falls lightly it was like a blanket and could keep him warm and as he sat down he didn’t realize how tired he was, he slid to the ground and put the back pack in his lap and looked down the highway. It was late and there was no one coming or going and so he thought of home, of resting his head on his bed and leaned against the rocks and thought to rest his eyes.

He remembered at time when he was with Old Man and they had walked to the trading post to check the mail and talked about Old Man Turquoise.

He remembered he asked his Grandpa, “That Old Man Turquoise tell me about him,”

Who do you mean?

That one old man we passed on the way to the trading post, over by Natani's place, down by the wash, just over that way. Eshkee motioned with his lips to the Northwest.

Eshkee's father, who everyone called "the Old Man", looked up and could see the low mountain rising to the West, from here at Two Gray Hills it went up hill to the trading post nestled in the foothills of Toadlena. He remembered the day not so long ago, when they had stepped aside to let Old Man Turquoise walk by them.

"Well, I said I would tell you about him", the Old Man said. He sat back from the small table where they were standing, just inside the Chao-summer shade arbor where he was working on something. His eyes were old, sort of brown, wrinkled around the edges and his eyes looked as if they could see something a long ways off.

Old Man said let's go for a walk. They walked outside and to the South where the rocks rose to a ridge like a dinosaurs back running north to south, they climbed to a high point stepping through the sage brush.

It was after the First Frost, the time for Yei-Be-Ches, stories of coyotes and legends. The Summer Sings were over where the Blessing Way was done to restore the spirit, the body and to brings things back to harmony. As they made their way
through the sage, they slowly climbed the red sand stone rocks to a place they knew very well, from this spot they had many talks, it overlooked the whole valley running from Toadlena to Two Gray Hills.

The twin rocks were to the East nestled against the mountain, the road ran like a ribbon and the small houses and hogans dotted the valley below. It was from here they sat and looked over the valley. Though it was Fall, the day was warm one of the last few where it felt like summer.

Old Man sat down and Eshkee sat nearby, as the Old Man pointed to the wash that ran along the road connecting the mountain community of Toadlena to Two Gray Hills, running against the two mesas to the east, it ran all the way to the highway some sixteen miles to the East and way further North on the horizon was Table Mesa.

Do you see those mesas, the one to the North. Yes, Eshkee said, it was red, pink almost in the afternoon sun. There is a place on the mesa, where some gather at night, when it is dark sometimes when there is no moon.

Where is it at?

You can't see it right now but it is there, sometimes at night, late at night some say there is a fire that comes from a place there where the witches gather, the ones who follow the Dark side.

Have you been there before?

No, when I was younger I looked for it, but never did find it.

Who goes there?

It is the place where the Skinwalkers gather, where they meet and carry on with the sacrifices they make. They look like regular people, but they trade lives with each other, to belong to them you have to sacrifice someone to be with them. They are quiet about it, they don't tell anyone who they are. In our way there is a balance, between the Beautyway and the Evilway, these people have chosen to follow the dark
side.

They can take your spirit, cause sickness, misfortune and witch those don't know it. They are like bad luck that follows you around. Eshkee looked at the mesa, seeing every part of it, from it's flat top, to the large rocks that were cracked on everyside, there were many places one could hide on that mesa. He thought about where this place they gathered could be.

Old Man said, A long time ago maybe it was before World War II, one dark night, when I was young, we had a gathering down by the Bain bridge place. There was Mrs. Watchman, the cook at the boarding school, Mrs. Belone, Kee Mike, Wareen Natani and myself, those women weren't married then, they were single. We were all young.

We had gone down to eat, and to sing with the people gathered there. You remember the Bainbridge place, it is small, with an open area, but that night the whole lace around there was filled with wagons, and horses, people were camped there, some had come from Teec Nos Pos, some from Tohatchi, and some from off the Flat-Halgai it is called.

Anyway there was food, bonfires and dancing. In those days there not much liquor like there is now, it was very traditional. People had respect for the Navajo Way. We went down there and spent the evening, visiting with some of the old folks, the Benallys, Tellers, Deals, and some of the old folks who aren't here any more.

It was late when we left, when the stars were straight up, the Small Ring the comes up, when everyone takes a break. We decided to go home then. In those days we didn't have cars to we walked everywhere. People told us to be careful, since Skinwalkers were running around during that time of night. We laughed and headed out for home.

It was really dark, there was not moon at that time, we could not see very well. We knew the area so we knew where to walk through the sage, we had not kerosene lamp so we walked slowly and talked about who we saw that evening.

It was just over there, he pointed to where the Bainbridges lived and motioned to the wash nearby. They had gone into the wash to go home since it ran back up the mountain to Toadlena. The sand was soft and easy to walk on.

They headed back, the five of them. It was the middle of the night and there was no light they walked together and through the wash and from behind they could hear the sound of pounding hooves, the sound of wild horses running in a pack, wild ones. They were running as if they were scared, crashing through the sage with not light, but running out of fear.

These few young men and women turned around and could not see them coming but could hear them as their feet smashed into the ground and knew that had to get out of the way. So they ran up the wash to a Comb Ridge, up on the rocks and waited to see what was coming and then there was nothing. Not a sound, and they tried to look at one another but it was so dark you could not see your hand in front of your face.


They sat and waited and nothing came, but they could hear a commotion from the place they had come from, and then they heard a gun shot and a wild animal cry out in pain, whincing and yelping and yet they saw nothing, but hear it all.

From that night long ago they all remembered that after a few days Old Man Turquoise was seen limping, his leg dragging after him, and it became known in the community that he was somehow hooked up with the Dark side of life and everyone in the community knew to be careful of him.


Many years later, when Eshkee has grown a little he saw the bridge to Two Gray Hills was washed out and everyone didn’t use that road for a long time, and so he rode down that by horseback along the wash and there found a foot trail he followed to an old Hogan, it was Old Man Turquoise’s place. He could see from the looks of it that it was in disrepair, and when he stopped to see if any was there.

He called out in Navajo if anyone was there, and the reply came faint Oshe’-Come in, so Eshkee when in and saw Old Man Turquoise was sick, he was just laying in bed alone.

He talked to him and learned that his children had not been back to see him for sometime, and so Eshkee cleaned up his place all the time wondering about what the hack he was dong there when he had been told to leave this old man alone, everyone knew that but he could not turn away from him and so he returned every few days to check on him but told no one that he ever did this, but did so and always felt uneasy about the place and after the old man started to move about he left him alone as he could make his own way.

Old Man Turquoise never said anything to him after than never saying anything to Eshkee when ever he saw him, so the boy thought that is just how it is. At first the thought the old man would say something, and he a little upset by it, but then he realized he had helped him because e wanted to do it for himself not for the old one and the reward was his own and he let it go at that.

But he always wondered about what things Old Man Turquoise knew about the Dark side, but it was one of those things you will never know the answer to, so he let it go.

Eshkee had drifted off to sleep, he was in his bed at home, it was warm and he thought it was good to be home….when he was shaken awake by the touch of something that had grabbed him and in a flash he was awake. He was still there the snow and it was cold, he was stiff and the snow had covered him and brushed the snow away. In the distance he could see in the rocks of Table Mesa a distant fire and yet it seemed just a little ways away.

Eshkee was so tired his legs moved like molasses as he stood up, he was groggy and his walk was stilted and slow. He walked in a haze to the distant fire, and as if n a dream found that he was in a place where it was warm and there was a bedroll placed there for him, and there was kneel down bread for him to eat, so he ate and fell asleep.

Eshkee woke up and he was sitting in a truck headed up the road to the junction where he just lived a short way and it was morning and the ground was all covered white. The truck stopped and he looked at the driver and it was Manygoats.

Are you okay, boy?

Yes, how did I get home.

You were walking by the side of the road by Table Mesa just before dawn in a daze, you almost walked into the road and could have got un over. I stopped and you were standing there with Old Man Turquoise, he said he found you and you almost froze last night. You should know better than that didn’t your father teach you anything.

Eshkee said, Where is Old Man Turquoise?

He said he was at a Yei-be-Che at Bistai area, not too far from Table Mesa and on the way found you. I don’t know how that old man found you he can’t hardly walk himself, but he was there and it was a good thing for you he was.

Eshkee got out and walked toward his place just a little ways through the cedars. It was a clear day and sun had come out and he looked way off toward Table Mesa and remembered the stories of Old Man Turquoise and was just glad to be home. So it went one time years ago just before Halloween... johnny rustywire rustywire@yahoo.com