TWO SPIRITS
by
Toby Johnson


TWO SPIRITS

Anovel by Toby Johnson

Based on a story by Walter L. Williams, Ph.D.

AT ale of Discovery Among the Navajo

Walter Williams, PhD Toby Johnson, PhD 2319 Portland St.  P.O. Box 1018
Los Angeles CA 90007 Conifer CO 80433 213 749-4928 303 697-4457

ABOUT TWO SPIRITS

This Western genre novel, based in historical fact, tells a tale of
adventure of a young man from rural Virginia, assigned to be the
Government Indian Agent on the Bosque Redondo Reservation in the
desolate New Mexico desert after the Civil War.  In the 1860s, the
Navajo Indians were held as virtual prisoners of war in an experiment
in Indian management under the command of an unscrupulous Indian War
general who was later removed because he had been swindling money sent
by Washington for the Indians food and lodging, making himself rich at
the Indians expense and suffering.  This story recounts how the
fictional Indian Agent develops a romantic relationship with a
Two-Spirit medicine man among the Navajos, and so comes to appreciate
personally the plight of the Indians on the reservation.  The
Two-Spirit Person is modelled on the revered character in certain
Native American cultures who blends masculine and feminine genders into
a kind of loving exemplar of the culture's spiritual values.  Through a
series of adventures, shot through with Navajo mysticism, the two
lovers expose the general's chicanery and bring about the Indians
return to their ancestral homeland in eastern Arizona.  In the process,
the young Virginian learns Native American spirituality and discovers a
positive context for his own emotional and sexual development.  His
marriage to his Two-Spirit partner demonstrates historical precedent
for same-sex marriage on American soil.  In 1997, TWO SPIRITS was
awarded a development grant in the Arch and Bruce Brown Foundation
competition for Gay-positive Art Projects based on Historical
Subjects.

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Walter L Williams is author of the award-winning book THE SPIRIT AND
THE FLESH: SEXUAL DIVERSITY IN AMERICAN INDIAN CULTURE.  He is
professor of anthropology and gender studies at the University of
Southern California, where he teaches gay, lesbian, bisexual and
transgender studies, and also American Indian Studies.  He is past
president of ONE Institute International Gay and Lesbian Archives, and
is currently editor of the INTERNATIONAL GAY AND LESBIAN REVIEW.  For
the past two decades, he has been speaking on the berdache (now more
correctly called Two-Spirit) phenomenon and has been well-received both
by fellow anthropologists and by general audiences.  THE SPIRIT AND THE
FLESH is a basic staple of any gay reading list and is stocked in
bookstores well beyond the network of gay stores.  Toby Johnson is a
writer and former bookseller in the gay genre.  He was a counselor in
San Francisco in the 1970s and one of the developers of gay-oriented
psychotherapy.  For almost seven years, he and his partner operated
Liberty Books, the lesbian and gay community bookstore in Austin.  He
has had published three gay novels and three non-fiction works about
the ideas of renowned religions scholar Joseph Campbell.  His novel
SECRET MATTER won a Larimy in 1990; in 1999, it was nominated for
induction into the Gay Lesbian Science Fiction Hall of Fame in the
first year of the competition, so one of five nominees out of all the
gay and lesbian science fiction ever written.  Recently, with Kip
Dollar, his partner of 14 years, Johnson has moved to a retreat in the
Rocky Mountains and taken on editing and publishing the small but
respected quarterly journal of gay men's spirituality, WHITE CRANE.

ALSO BY TOBY JOHNSON

THE MYTH OF THE GREAT SECRET: A SEARCH FOR SPIRITUAL MEANING IN THE

FACE OF EMPTINESS (William Morrow, 1982)

IN SEARCH OF GOD IN THE SEXUAL UNDERWORLD:

AMYSTICAL JOURNEY (William Morrow, 1983)

PLAGUE: A NOVEL ABOUT HEALING

(Alyson Books, 1987)

SECRET MATTER

(Lavender Press, 1990) Winner of a 1990 Lambda Literary Award for Gay
Men's Science Fiction

GETTING LIFE IN PERSPECTIVE

(Lavender Press, 1991)

THE MYTH OF THE GREAT SECRET (Revised Edition):

AN APPRECIATION OF JOSEPH CAMPBELL

(Celestial Arts, 1992)

About other novels by Toby Johnson

Regarding 1990 Lambda Literary Award winner SECRET MATTER, noted
commentator and bookseller Richard Labonte said: Toby Johnson's fly
blend of sweet romance, social commentary and entertaining science
fiction gives new meaning to the concept of a genre novel the sort of
easy-going read rarely found in gay fiction, and very welcome.

Bob Satuloff, reviewer for the New York Native, wrote: even if one has
little sympathy for the utopian vision the narrative thrust of SECRET
MATTER is sufficiently powerful and the writing so passionate and
thoughtful that Johnson's philosophical conceit is hard to resist.

Regarding GETTING LIFE IN PERSPECTIVE, author and editor Paul Reed
wrote: Haunting, sexy, spiritually evocative this novel is the perfect
metaphor for gay life at the end of this century thoroughly
enchanting.

Ellen Ratner, writer and one of the founders of the national lesbian
and gay health movement, wrote: the best romantically spiritual book
I've ever read a healing book, a book for both lesbians and gay men, a
book to help us imagine our roots I loved it and didn't want it to
end.

Marvin Shaw, San Francisco-based reviewer, wrote: There is a fresh
naivete in [Toby Johnson s] style that rings pleasantly in the ear,
like the memory of a boy's book enthusiastically devoured at age 12.
Against the sour punk of so much of today's gay male fiction, GETTING
LIFE IN PERSPECTIVE is a treat.

ILLUSTRATIONS

MAP OF NEW MEXICO TERRITORY IN 1867

(showing Fort Sumner, Ft.  Wingate, Ft.  Defiance, the Navajo homeland
in NE Arizona, the route of the Long Walk, El Paso, Dodge City in SW
Kansas, etc.)

GENERAL JAMES C. CARLETON

BARBONCITO

SEGUNDO AND OTHER NAVAJOS

NAVAJO WOMAN

GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN



Chapter One

When the stagecoach finally stopped and the driver called down to
announce his arrival, Will looked out in disbelief.  This is the most
desolate place I've ever seen.  How can the Indians live in such a
barren and arid desert?  As he climbed down, he thought about his
dreams of escaping war-ravaged Virginia to find a Promised Land of
peace and comradeship out West.  He remembered the story of Moses
leading the Israelites through the desert for forty years, never
finding his own way in.  I don't guess I have any business comparing
myself to Moses, but I sure wonder if I'm ever going to make it to that
Promised Land. This sure doesn't look like it.  This looks more like
the back wasteland of Hell.  The clay soil was red; the sparse grass
that struggled to grow through the caked, cracked surface looked pale
and dessicated.  The sun was so hot it caused ripples of heat to
radiate from the ground and so bright it dazzled the eye.  The air was
dry and dusty, and full of gnats and tiny insects that swarmed in
Will's eyes and nose.  Has there been a mistake?  Have I got off at the
wrong destination?  Mr.  Burnside's friend in Washington said Fort
Sumner was built to house and protect the Navajos.  What kind of
protection could a god-forsaken place like this offer?  And from what? 
In the distance, Will could see a group of Indians tilling soil under
the supervision of armed soldiers.  Closer by, another group seemed to
be making mud bricks, also under the close watch of blue uniforms.  He
was again reminded of the story of Moses.  Will had expected the
Indians to look fierce and threatening, but these poor wretches looked
beaten down and dispirited, less like recipients of the government's
altruism and more like its slaves--though brown-skinned, not black. 
Could this be a prison and not the reservation, after all?  Perhaps the
reservation is somewhere else.  Will had imagined lush mountains and
babbling brooks with encampments of clean white tepees glistening in
the sun.  That was how his childhood picture books had shown Indian
villages.  This dry land looked inhospitable in all directions.  Will's
confusion was ended abruptly when he was approached by a uniformed
soldier.  You the new Injun Agent?

Good afternoon, Will said, I'm William Lee.  I've been appointed
apprentice to the Agent at Fort Sumner.  He extended his hand.  Though
wind beaten and sunburned, this soldier reminded him of the draft
officer for the Virginia Militia he'd known back home in Lynchburg.
That man had been a good soldier, a handsome gentleman and a kindly
benefactor to Will.  He hoped this fellow would prove to be of the same
caliber.  The soldier looked at his hand with disdain.  Sergeant J.F.
Peak, aide to General Carleton, he introduced himself.  Welcome to Fort
Sumner and the Bosque Redondo Reservation, he added with a tone of
sarcasm.

Is this really the reservation?

You got any complaints?

I just meant I thought maybe there was someplace else, well, more
hospitable for the Indians.

Jezzuz, Peak sighed.  Look, General Carleton wants to meet you right
away.  C mon.  Where's your baggage?

This is all I've got.  Will held up his single carpetbag.

You need a redskin to carry y r damn bag?  Peak asked with a sneer.  I
ain't no bellboy, he said, turning away and heading toward the main
group of buildings which Will could see on the other side of a low
wall.

By the way, the last Agent's gone, ain't nobody here for you to
apprentice to.  You're the new Agent.  I hope you're gonna be a damn
sight better than that last.  He said only partly to Will, You Injun
Agents're just a nuisance round here.  As Will hurried to catch up with
him, Peak pointed out a solitary wooden structure far from the other
buildings, That'll be your quarters out there.

Want me to take my things over?

I said we was goin to go see General Carleton, Peak answered.  Ain't
you listenin to nothin ?  Entering the compound formed by a short wall
of adobe brick, they came upon a commotion.  Chained to the wall were
five Indians, three of them bare-chested, Will observed with a flutter
in his belly.  They looked strong, but starved.  One of them, with his
arms twisted in the chains, appeared to have just fallen or been pushed
to the ground and was hanging painfully from the shackles.

God damn it, a soldier standing over the man shouted angrily.  You
tryin to trip me or something ?  He kicked the Indian in the
midsection. Will felt called upon to exercise his office as advocate
for the Indians.  What's happening here, soldier?  he called out.  The
uniformed man looked around, saw Will, but addressed Sergeant Peak. 
Oh, Sarge, it's you.  Why this damn Injun stuck his foot out as I was
walkin by. I thought I'd teach him a lesson.

That's okay, Mac.  As you were, Peak said.  I thought you was on scout
duty.  As the soldier came toward them, Will spoke up, I'm the new
Indian Agent, soldier.  Tell me, how come these Indians are in
chains?

They're being punished for trying to escape, Peak answered curtly.
Well, look, this here's Private Tim McCarrie.  He seemed to be forced
into making an introduction.  And this is William Lee.  Like he said,
he's the new Agent.  Pvt.  Timothy McCarrie was a rangy young redhead.
Though Will was put off by his treatment of the chained Indian, he
couldn't help finding the man's features appealing.  The soldier
nodded to Will, then began to explain to Sergeant Peak why he wasn't on
scout duty.  Will was left standing by himself.  This was army
business, none of his concern.  Attending to the men in chains, he
noticed, was a strikingly beautiful young Indian woman.  She wore a
long dress woven with complex Indian designs in rich earthen colors.
She had a leather bucket from which she was scooping water with a
drinking gourd.  When McCarrie sauntered on over to Peak, the woman
rushed to the man who'd been kicked to offer him a drink from the
gourd.  She placed her hand tenderly on the back of his neck.  Will was
entranced.  The Indian's oval-shaped face with deep-set eyes was thin
and almost gaunt.  She, too, appeared to have suffered starvation.  But
her complexion was clear, and her rich brown skin glowed with untamed
wildness.  She had long black hair that was tossed back over her
shoulders and hung, untied, to the middle of her back.  She looked to
Will to be about his own age, maybe a little older.  For a woman, she
seemed tall, her shoulders broad and square.  Will was so taken by her,
he was staring.  One of the men in chains, pointing at him, called out,
Nad-leh.  Will surmised that was her name.  Alerted, she turned and
looked straight at Will.  For a moment, her dark brown eyes locked on
his.  He smiled and nodded, thinking she'd return his sign of
salutation.  But instead what came back at him was a glare of hate and
anger that hit him almost like a physical blow.  Pvt.  McCarrie noticed
Will's bewilderment.  The Navajos don't much like to be looked at in
the eye.  They consider it disrespectful.  Better watch yourself,
sir-He grinned at Will and winked, --if you want to make friends with
the lady.

Thanks for the advice, Will said, grateful that McCarrie had apparently
sensed his hurt feelings and grateful for the friendly wink--whatever
it meant.  After Peak dismissed the private, Will followed obediently
as they passed through the fort.  He could see the strength of the
Union Army--rifles and cannons and soldiers--all arrayed to control the
Indians.  No wonder that Indian woman Nadleh doesn't realize I'm here
to help.  On one side of the parade grounds in the middle of the fort
was a gallows.  The three limp-hanging nooses reminded Will of the
incident in front of his father's church house.  He shuddered.  I don't
want to think about that, he thought, forcefully pushing the memory out
of consciousness.  Few of the soldiers seemed to take much notice of
him.  Some nodded civilly, one or two actually smiled, but others
scowled and turned away.  It just occurred to him that the position of
civilian Indian Agent might be hated by both sides, when Peak pointed
out a door in a small adobe brick building.

General Carleton's office.  You behave proper now, you hear!  *** Will
Lee arrived at Fort Sumner on the Bosque Redondo Reservation in the New
Mexico Territory on May 4, 1867, just two days after his twenty-first
birthday.  The first part of his journey west, on the recently built
Kansas-Pacific Railroad, had led him into a strange new world far away
from his Virginia home near rural Lynchburg just east of the Blue
Ridge.  Crossing the Great Plains, he had seen the landscape stretch
outward in magnificent emptiness as far as the eye could see.  At times
the only feature was the thin thread of the railroad track, both before
and behind, bisecting the unending sea of grass.  And above were skies
bigger and bluer than any Will had ever seen back East in the land of
woodsy hills and low-lying mists.  Will was a good-looking young man.
His features were delicate, his face thin with high cheekbones.  His
skin was naturally pale, his hair dark black.  Deep emerald-green eyes
dominated his visage, giving him a look that sometimes caused passersby
to stare.  He had never been comfortable with those stares, too
frequently misinterpreting them as judgmental glares.  His father,
stern and stiff-necked, had once scolded him mercilessly for looking
too long at his own reflection in a mirror.  Vain and self-willed, his
daddy, the Reverend Joshua Lee, had called him.  Will was thin, but his
physique was solid, his muscles well-defined, his shoulders square and
strong from working hard around the family farm.  But his father, never
satisfied, had always insisted that he slunk from the really hard work.
He'd told him this every time he pulled out his whip and beat him on
the backside.  To teach you the fear of God, his father would say. 
Will was happy to have escaped his father's authority, though as he sat
on the train, he could not help but relive over and over again that
awful week that led up to his fleeing Virginia.  One afternoon, while
caught up in an imagined argument with his father, Will spied a dust
cloud up ahead and to the left of the tracks.  It was clearly moving
toward the train.

Buffalo, several passengers gasped in agreement as they crowded to the
near side of the coach to watch.  The cloud loomed larger.  As it
neared, he could see at its base a huge herd of dark brown beasts which
looked like overgrown and thick-furred bulls with monstrous humps
running straight toward them.  The locomotive lurched to a halt; the
engineer leaned on the whistle.  A shrill scream split the air.  Will
turned to a soldier sitting across from him.  Are they running toward
us?

The sound of the train prob ly panicked em, the soldier said.  Once
they get to stampedin , the stupid animals just run, even toward what's
scarin em.  As the herd thundered closer, Will was awestruck by the
dusty beauty.  For the first time, he felt he was actually in the
fabled West.  The soldiers and some of the passengers took up shooting
positions at the windows and from the platforms between cars.  Will
hunkered down in the seat, deafened by the sound of the approaching
hoofbeats, frightened that his whole adventure might end right here
trampled by the mighty beasts.  That would just confirm his father had
been right about his sinfulness, and even God was out to get him.

What'll happen when they reach the train?  he yelled to the soldier who
now aimed his rifle out the window.

Just watch.  They'll flow right around us like water.

Are we in danger?

Oh, no, the soldier assured him, looking round with a warm but
half-amused smile, less n you get a fancy to climb down from the train
n take a walk through the herd, farmboy.  He added that last
appellation in a tone that was both condescending and solicitous.

Guess that's what I used to be, Will said truthfully, glad, under the
circumstances, to have the protection of the U.S. Cavalry.  Now I'm
gonna be me an Indian Agent.  The soldier guffawed as he turned back to
the window.  The herd was just starting to swerve outward to part
around the train.  The soldier drew a bead on one of the lead animals.
He fired.  The report rang out inside the car, even above the pounding
of the hooves.  The huge beast fell.  The onslaught parted around the
body but kept coming.  The buffalo were streaming alongside the train
now, their huge heads just outside the windows.  More shots rang out.

Why are you shooting them?  Will hollered.

These devil cows are the Indians vittles, britches and tepees, the
soldier said.  Will understood.  To the settlers moving west and to the
workers building the railroads, the Indians were a terrible threat.  He
wondered if they would be a threat to him personally.  I am, after all,
headed right into their world.  Would I have the courage to shoot an
Indian myself?  Will hoped that would not be his job.  He was only to
be an apprentice to the Government Indian Agent and help the Indians
find a place in the civilized world.  The soldier fired his rifle at a
buffalo outside the window.  The animal turned its head and looked
directly into Will's eyes as it fell.  Will knew he didn't fit in the
world of men like that soldier.  His soul trembled with the thought of
the anger those men held in their hearts.  He'd never felt as if he fit
in any world.  His boyish considerateness, politeness and sensitivity
to friends, neighbors and even his father's parishioners, which his
father scoffed at as simpering; his fascination with the beauty of a
spring day or, once, his sadness in autumn over the dying of a lilac
bush, which even his mother rebuked him for as silly and ungentle
manlike the pang of longing and joy, intermixed, he felt sometimes when
he looked upon the youth and innocence of boys his own age who seemed
almost to glow in the gaze of his emerald eyes, but which look the
other boys sometimes met with an embarrassed shrug or a shunning glare;
his pleasure in helping his mother with her sewing and her crafts,
which his father dismissed as a ladies fancy; his tendency to feel
deeply the slights done to him by others and yet still to try to be
understanding of their motives even when they hurt him; his will to
like everybody he met and his hope that everybody he met would like
him; his reluctance to join his friends in roughhousing or to
participate with the men in hunting or talking politics; his resistance
to growing up into the world of staid convention--all these things
which he thought of as the most precious elements of his character were
not, he knew, traits honored among the men of his culture.  By the time
the shooting was over, a hundred dead or wounded animals lay in pools
of blood soaking the dry prairie sod.  The herd moved off into the
distance oblivious, the dust churning into the sky above.  With one
last shriek of the whistle, the train started rolling again--slowly so
that the cowcatcher at the front could push aside the great bodies that
had fallen on the tracks.  *** Sergeant Peak knocked on the office door
and announced, New Agent's here.  Will heard a stern voice inside.
Permission granted.  Enter.  He had to stoop slightly to get through
the doorway.  Heavy burlap curtains hung closed over the window in the
far wall, casting the office into tenebrous gloom.  His eyes took a
moment to adjust.  Sitting formally behind the desk in the middle of
the room was General James C. Carleton.  He appeared to be about fifty
years old, looking all very spit-and-polish in his full uniform in
spite of the heat.  Will noticed it was much cooler inside the dark
little office.  I see why one might live in a man-made cave out here. 
The general had a dark beard, with just a hint of gray shot through it,
neatly trimmed away from his chin in the popular style that emphasized
the sideburns.  His forehead was high.  His face was youthful and
handsome.  Will started to like him immediately.  Though when the
general lifted his gaze, he saw that his dark eyes looked piercing and
unforgiving.  Will knew of General James Carleton by reputation.  He
was proud to meet the man in person and wanted General Carleton to like
him.  He nodded peaceably and handed over the sealed envelope that
contained the documents of his appointment.  The general motioned
peremptorily for him to take a chair in front of the desk, then opened
the envelope with a silver dagger and looked through the contents.  As
he was doing so, Will noticed that another officer was sitting silently
in a chair by an empty fireplace to the right of the desk.  Even though
his eyes had adjusted, he still couldn't see very well.  He glanced
back and saw that Sergeant Peak stood blocking the doorway.

Mr.  Lee, the general began abruptly, This is Lieutenant Bauer, my
adjutant and secretary, he said, indicating the man in the shadows. You
met Peak back there, I guess.  Now I understand you were hired as an
apprentice to the Indian Agent here at the Fort.  Well, that man's
gone.  And none too soon.

He was one of the most uncooperative men I have ever had the misfortune
to come across.  No wonder he ran afoul of the Indians.  He seemed to
think that in spite of all my years of dealing with the Navajos, he
should be collecting the rewards for protecting them here, just because
he was a friend of the Territorial Superintendent in Santa Fe.  My God,
man, it was I who defeated the Indians in the first place, devised the
whole strategy for their containment and protection, and brought them
here to this reservation.  He sat back and straightened his uniform
jacket.

Given the ridiculous way our government is organized, the civilian
Agent from the Indian Office and the military commander are both
responsible for the reservation Indians.  I hope yours and my
relationship will be more successful than that with that last
scoundrel.  From the tone, Will could tell this was intended as a
command.  I hope so, too, sir, he replied earnestly.  The general
looked at him with an expression of annoyance, as though perturbed that
his patter had been interrupted.

Well, he is gone and I am still in command, and you, Mr.  Lee, are the
Agent now.  I trust there will be no such problems between you and me.
Then a hint of a smile flickered across the general's face.  Let's work
together to demonstrate the success of our little experiment here in
Indian management.  He added with forced joviality, Then we can both be
proud.  Apparently satisfied with his speech, the general struck the
top of the desk lightly with the heel of his fist like a gavel.  Now,
you may speak.  Will marshalled his words.  He wanted to know what had
happened to the last Agent, how come he'd gotten the promotion so
easily.  He wanted to know if his predecessor had been killed by the
Indians.  But he sensed all this was a delicate subject.  He knew his
job would depend on Carleton's opinion of him.  Now that he was
thousands of miles from home, he felt at the mercy of the military
officials.  He had nowhere else to go, and he needed Carleton to
approve of him.

General Carleton, this is my first trip west, as you may know, and the
first time I've ever seen Indians.  I'm grateful for the confidence you
show in me in making me the Indian Agent.  I intend to do a good job
here.  Will tried to sound earnest but to keep his emotions under
strict control in what he understood to be military style.  In his most
deferential and diplomatic tone, he went on, I hope you'll give me the
benefit of your experience.  I want to learn from you, sir.  I've read
of your campaigns against the Apaches and the Navajos with Kit Carson
The general interrupted, You know Colonel Carson was under my command.
His tone suggested a certain resentment that Kit Carson had become more
famous back East than James Carleton.   That was my point, sir, Will
added.  Your success is, uh, illustrious He had learned how to be
tactful around his daddy's parish.

Well, thank you, but I do realize Colonel Carson has received much of
the fame His voice trailed off.  Then he quickly added with appropriate
mock humility, Rightly due him, of course, you understand.  Colonel
Carson is a brave man.

Oh, I understand, sir, Will replied.  But you were in charge of the
Navajo War.  General, if you can help me learn how to do my job well
for the government, I'll be much obliged.  Carleton leaned over his
desk and cracked that hint of a smile again.  Well, son, I'll be the
first to offer my advice and help.  Take your time, get used to things.
It's not a hard job.  Just leave the problems to me, and everything
will go smoothly.  I promise.  He now seemed confiding, almost
protecting.

Looks like there's a lot that needs to be done, Will said.  The Indians
seem pretty miserable.

Well, sir, no, there's really not a lot to be done.  You've got to
understand savages.  Once you've spent some time here, you'll learn. Of
course, the Navajos are having a bit of unhappiness as they adjust to
the civilized way of doing things.  They've been living like wild
animals up in the hills, with no discipline.  It's inevitable that it's
going to take them some time.  But we've got that time.  This is the
Lord's work we're doing here.  We will do it in the Lord's time.  The
Indians will learn to be civilized.  That's the responsibility
incumbent on us by Christian love.

I notice in your file, Carleton continued, that your father's a
preacher.  So I know you've had a fine religious upbringing.  Will
winced.  Fortunately, the general was looking at the papers on his desk
and did not notice.  You'll understand that saving the souls of these
heathens requires us to deal firmly with them.  It's the only way
civilization and Christianity can spread.  You understand this is a job
for the military.  We know what we're doing.  Everything we do here,
even when it sometimes doesn't look like it, is for their own good. And
for the glory of the Lord.  Will was vexed by the religiosity.  He'd
seen firsthand how hollow all his father's pompous talk about the love
of God had been.

Because I defeated the Navajos and removed them here to the
reservation, the lands they'd threatened with their savage war parties
are now safe.  Carleton gestured expansively.  A whole vast territory
has been opened for settlement.  You don't hear those settlers and
ranchers and silver miners complaining about General Carleton, no, sir.
The general seemed to need to justify his campaign.  Will reminded
himself to show forebearance.  Carleton is an officer and a gentleman,
and deserves respect.  Nonetheless, the territorial concerns sounded
far afield from the concern about Christianizing the Indians, but
apparently, at least in Carleton's eyes, the two issues of providing
benefits for white settlers and religion for the Indians were
definitely connected.  All for the good of civilization and saving
souls, of course, Carleton concluded.

Well, sir, I really want to learn all about this.  I'm eager to be of
help in every way I can, Will said.

Of course, of course.  Now, you must be exhausted.  The general turned
genteel.  I'm sorry to have wearied you further with all this talk of
military strategies.  You must be hungry.  Supper will be served soon.
He looked up at Peak, Sergeant, you'll show Mr.  Lee here to his
quarters.  And be sure to show him the mess hall and the latrines.

I showed him his cabin already, Peak said.

Oh, yes, I can find my own way, Will said.  He didn't want to cross
Peak.  But I do need directions to the latrine

Excused, Mr.  Lee.  The general nodded.  Make sure he knows where to
go, he said to the sergeant.  Outside the door of the general's office,
Sergeant Peak took Will by the arm and half-pushed him around the
corner.  He pointed to a small shed about a hundred feet away.  Them's
the latrines.  Jerking Will around so he was facing the opposite
direction, Peak pointed again.  The mess is in that building over
there.  And you find your own way to your quarters, like I showed ya
earlier.

Thanks very much, Will said.  I'll be fine.  As Peak turned and headed
back around the corner of the building, Will let out a sigh and leaned
against the adobe brick wall, reaching into his jacket and pulling out
a bright red bandana to mop his brow.  It was hot.  He took off his
jacket and started to stuff it into his carpetbag, when he realized he
could hear voices.  It startled him.  He looked around and saw that he
was standing right next to the heavily curtained window behind General
Carleton's desk.

Well, Lieutenant, he could hear Carleton's distinctive voice only
slightly muffled by the burlap, what do you think of our new Agent?

Well, sir, he seems pretty green.I doubt he'll be of much use round
here.  Will sidled toward the window.  He wanted to hear this.  But he
surely didn't want to get caught eavesdropping.

Nothing would make me happier than for our little Rebel here to just
settle back and enjoy doing nothing, Carleton's voice boomed.  That's
why McDonald sent him.  Will reacted to the word Rebel, and so he
didn't attend as closely as he should have to the rest of the sentence,
especially the phrase why McDonald sent him.  He had been hoping his
personnel file would have ignored his military service with the
Confederacy--he knew it could make him enemies out here in the middle
of this blue-uniformed army--and the documents shouldn't have mentioned
it.  After all, his service with the Confederacy had never amounted to
much of anything.  Though at first he'd wanted to join the army of
gentleman defending the South, if only out of a childish desire to seem
grown up, he was much too young in July of 1861 when the Battle of
Manassas was fought in fields not far from his family's farm.  But by
the end of 1862, that had changed.  The war had been going on for
nearly two years.  Boys Will's age were being drafted.  His mother came
down with a strange illness.  She stopped eating and took to staying in
bed all day.

Son, she said, you're gonna have to nurse me.  Now with the war goin
on, I just can't depend on Maudie.  I need you here.  Maudie was the
Lee family's slave, the midwife who'd bought Will into the world, the
granddaughter of the midwife who'd brought his grandfather into the
world.  With the government of the Union meddling with property rights,
old loyalties could no longer be trusted.  Will could not tell if his
mother were sick with physical disease or with emotional despondency
because of the possibility of his being called to war.  She'd already
said many times that she didn't want him joining in the battle.  Her
husband could not tell either.  Sometimes he would accuse her of
malingering, berate her for her sloth, and harangue her with Bible
verses about the responsibility of wives to obey their husbands.  This
sometimes got her up out of bed and to the table for dinner.  But it
did not make her well.  Reverend Lee was usually very persuasive.  He
was an accomplished orator.  He had taken it upon himself to preach the
Southerners insurrection as though it were a religious Crusade.  Citing
verse from Holy Writ, he proclaimed the God-given right of white men to
own slaves and the Constitutional principle of states rights.  He
became an important raiser of moneys for the Army of Northern Virginia
under the command of the distantly related war hero, General Robert E.
Lee.  The Reverend traveled throughout the area calling for tithes for
the war effort and for volunteers for the fighting.  The draft officer
for the Virginia Militia was a member of Reverend Lee's congregation.
He understood the importance of the preacher's ministry, especially
when it came to collecting funds for the Army.  And so he appreciated
the Reverend's plight in having a sickly wife and allowed young Will to
remain at home to care for her so her husband could be free to carry
his message far and wide.  As the bloodshed became ever more evident,
Will was thankful that he did not have to join the carnage and that he
could serve by helping out in the local draft office and caring for his
invalid mother, but he rankled against these privileges because they
kept him at home and under his father's domination.  He felt
infantalized.  He worried what people would think about his avoiding
service.  Then toward the middle of March 1865, the draft officer Will
was assisting announced that the condition of the Confederate Army had
grown critical.  For nearly a year, the armies of Lee and Grant had
been savagely dogging each other in upper Virginia north and east of
Richmond.  Lee's rag-tag troops were being decimated in a series of
bloody battles.  Now with Sherman's invasion of Georgia and South
Carolina crippling the Confederacy to the south, Lee's army had to be
reinforced.  All able-bodied men were called to join the fray.  Will
was frightened but excited.  In spite of his mother's illness, he was
going to get to go.  Even though he had no taste for battle and didn't
believe in the cause, he just couldn't stay a homebound child, a mama's
boy, terrorized by his father's arbitrary rules, any longer.  He was,
after all, almost nineteen.  The neighbors must wonder why I haven't
enlisted.  His military adventure was short-lived, however.  Along with
a small band of boys, most of them younger than himself, he marched off
to join his distant cousin's forces west of Petersburg, near the town
of Appomattox.  The group, under the direction of the draft officer,
arrived on April 8. The next day General Lee surrendered to Ulysses S.
Grant and the little band turned around and wandered home, a remnant of
the devastated forces of the Confederacy.  Will had explained all that
to Commissioner McDonald in the Office of Indian Affairs in Washington,
D.C. McDonald had told him not to worry about it.  The Commissioner had
said his youthful good looks and sensitive demeanor would assure the
military that he was no Rebel threat.  McDonald had smiled slyly and
said he certainly wasn't threatened.  Then why had he had to report
this fact to General Carleton?

He could be unpredictable, Bauer said.  What if he finds out and wants
to get cut in?

We'll deal with that if it happens.  What he doesn't know won't hurt
him, Carlton said.  I think I like the lad.  Besides, our friend Peak
can take care of matters if he has to.  Will heard Sergeant Peak
guffaw.

That will be all, Carleton said, apparently dismissing one or both of
the men.  Ireally am eavesdropping.  And now Sergeant Peak might be
coming around the corner any second.  Will's heart started to pound. He
grabbed up his carpetbag and started away swiftly.  He didn't care what
direction he was going in.  In fact, the way to the Indian Agency and
Will's quarters was away from the front gate back toward the vast area
set aside for the Indians farms.  But his quick exit from the officers
quarters took him right back the way he'd just come.  And so in a
moment he again came to the wall and the five chained Indians and the
woman named Nadleh.  Since I'm returning without Peak, Will thought,
maybe she'll be more friendly.  Will was still a good hundred feet away
when Nadleh looked up.  This time, she didn't scowl, but looked
intently.  She looked surprised, almost as though she'd recognized
someone long gone.  But, of course, that couldn't be.  Once again, Will
felt his eyes lock almost uncontrollably on hers.  He remembered again
what Pvt.  McCarrie said.  He tried to look away, but couldn t. There
was something about the Indian that arrested Will and tore through any
volition he might have tried to muster.  He felt disoriented.  A swell
of desire dazed him.  A feeling of hollowness seized his midsection.
Suddenly he felt himself sailing up into the air.  Maybe I fainted n've
fallen over backwards.  But that's not what happened, and Will knew,
instead, that in this moment something ageless and eternal had been
triggered in him by the look in Nadleh's eyes.  His soul resonated like
a struck bell.  It was as though he'd been here before or, perhaps, had
seen this all in a dream.  He felt as if he were standing outside
himself, his consciousness having, momentarily, involuntarily, risen
out of himself into something bigger that he was just a small part of,
so that he was seeing from a higher perspective.  Avision surfaced in
his mind.  He was standing on the edge of a deep canyon.  He could tell
that he was wearing a vest of Indian beadwork and could feel the sun
shining warmly on his bare chest between the leather bound edges of the
vest.  Then a huge hawk soared into his vision, and he was caught up in
the bird's flight.  Somehow, he seemed to be flying with the hawk.
Below was a valley such as he had never seen.  The walls, sheer cliffs
hundreds of feet high, were of reddish-orange rock burnished smooth by
the whistling wind.  The canyon seemed to meander in a labyrinth of
ravines off into the purplish distance.  Through the floor of the
canyon, a river formed a bright blue vein down the middle of a band of
lush green vegetation.  Then, just as fast as the vision had come, it
was gone.  Will was back standing a hundred feet or so from the wall.
The mysterious and fascinating woman whose gaze sparked the vision had
looked away and no longer seemed interested in the new American.  What
happened to me?  Maybe it was the heat.  Maybe it was his nervousness
in meeting General Carleton and then the surprise of finding that
Carleton was hiding something from him.  Maybe it was his
apprehensiveness in starting a new life and a new job.  Maybe it was
his excitement in finally seeing real Indians.  Maybe it was his fear
that he might be killed by them, perhaps like his predecessor.  Maybe,
as it seemed, it was some kind of mystical experience sparked by the
recognition of the Indian, a premonition of things to come He felt
embarrassed.  How long have I been standing here?  Will looked around,
as if surveying the whole area.  From where he was now, he could see
off a ways the wood building Peak had told him was his quarters.  He
started in that direction.  But he took one look back at Nadleh.  And,
as he did, to his amazement, a hawk just like the one in his vision
rose up from behind the wall.  The bird perched on the top of the wall,
then spread its wings.  They were almost four feet across.  Then the
bird took flight and soared up and away.  Will's eye followed its
flight into the brightness of the sky.  When he looked back down at
the Indians, Nadleh was gone.  \020Chapter Two

During his first couple of weeks at Fort Sumner, Indian Agent Lee had
little to do.  The Indians wouldn't talk to him.  They looked down at
the ground and shuffled off whenever he tried to approach one of them.
A few of the soldiers were friendly, but most treated him practically
the same way.  He saw General Carleton regularly in the mess hall.  A
couple of times, he tried to make an appointment to develop plans for
how they were going to resolve the Indians difficulties.  Carleton
always either dismissed him abruptly or seemed interested only in
bantering jovially about the weather.  The general never invited him to
sit at his table.  Will pondered over the eavesdropped comment from Lt.
Bauer that first day: What if he finds out and wants to get cut in?
Find out what?  Cut into what?  Will decided it'd be disrepectful and
unduly suspicious to think they were keeping a significant secret from
him and that that comment had really been just more of the general's
annoyance at his predecessor who had apparently been involved in some
kind of competition with Carleton.  This is the military.  Matters of
protocol and hierarchy would likely be very important to these people.
Will could see that the general and his officers were accorded better
treatment and given better rations than the other men around the fort.
From the outset, he had understood himself to be on the level of the
enlistees.  He simply didn't know what the protocol was; he hadn't had
anybody to apprentice to to instruct him in what was proper.  Perhaps
all Bauer had meant was that he could have claimed some of the
perquisites if he boldly pressed his way into the upper echelons, but
where, as a civilian, he didn't really belong.  Well, I don't want to
get involved in any kind of competition with General Carleton,
especially over anything as unimportant as hierarchy or, even, the food
served in the mess.  There's bound to be more than enough food.
Carleton had answered Bauer, I think I like the lad.  Will was pleased
with that; it seemed to ameliorate whatever threat he'd imagined.  He
wanted the general to like him.  So far as he could recall, he'd never
heard his father say he liked him.  Will told himself he should be much
more concerned about the welfare of the Indians than of himself.  That
was his job.  And he was concerned that General Carleton didn't seem to
notice--or didn't care about--the obvious hardships the Indians were
suffering here in the desert.  Will had found that out.  Now he needed
to know more about conditions on the reservation.  He told himself not
to get unduly suspicious, but to keep his eyes and ears open.  Will
composed a list of questions.  At the top of the list was What happened
to my predecessor?  He asked this of Sergeant Peak one day when he
found the soldier out near his quarters watching the Indians as though
keeping the nearby village under surveillance.

None o your business, Mister Lee, Peak said.  That was fore your time
here.  Don't matter none.

Oh, Will said, but if he made mistakes with the Indians, I ought to
know.

Well, then, sir, let's just say he stuck his nose where he shouldn't
ve.  He paused, then added mockingly, like into one of them Injun
squaws, if you know what I mean.

I don't understand.  Sergeant Peak waved him away.  You go back to your
report writin , Mr.  Lee.  You write all the reports you want.  But
don't go botherin us soldiers out here.  We got soldierin to do.

Sergeant Will started to object.

That's enough, Peak snapped.  I said that's enough.  You go back to
your quarters.  That's an order.

I don't think you can order me.

That's an order, Peak repeated, taking a step toward Will that was
clearly intended to look threatening.  Will turned and went back to his
quarters.  Indeed, he was writing reports, though so far he had little
to report about.  All he really had was his list of questions.  When
he'd asked General Carleton what he was supposed to do about the
Indians--they looked so listless, sickly and bedraggled--the general
told him to stay away from them.  You'll just get them riled up, he
said.  And then we'll have to settle things with military force.  We're
not here for war, Mr.  Lee.  We're here to protect the Indians and keep
them safe and peaceful.  Another of his questions was What are we
protecting them from?  Will's first report was about the makeup of the
fort: number of buildings, number of soldiers, position of the fort in
relation to the Indian village, number of trees in the area--all things
he could see and count with his own eyes or with the help of his field
glasses.  In the records he inherited from his predecessor, Will found
a census of the Indians on the Bosque Redondo Reservation.  According
to this count made two years before, in January 1865, there were 8,577
Navajos, 465 Mescaleros, and 20 Gila Apaches living in 1,276 lodges,
along with 3,038 horses, 6,962 sheep, 2,757 goats and an uncounted
number of chicken and domestic pets.  He hadn't heard of Mescaleros
before, and didn't know the groupings of different kinds of Apaches,
but he'd heard of Navajos.  The whole country knew the Navajos were one
of the most fierce of the Indian tribes.  They hardly seem fierce, now
that I've seen them face to face.  The Indians lived in small
settlements scattered over roughly ten square miles, though most of
them were encamped close to Fort Sumner since they relied on the
military for rations.  A creek ran alongside the Bosque Redondo and
provided water.  Will described this as a small creek, because that's
what it looked like to him in early summer.  It was, in fact, the Pecos
River.  Where the river had cut a deep rut through the parched land,
the Pecos was a wide dry wash almost a half-mile across.  The course of
the water meandered back and forth across this wash and formed what
Will called the creek.  Close to Fort Sumner, this creek made a sharp
bend that brought it right up to the closer bank.  For a couple of
miles stretching north of Fort Sumner, along the east bank of the wide
riverbed, were the fields and farmlands of the reservation.  The red
clay dirt did not look like growing soil.  There was only stunted maize
growing in the fields, and in the gardens some squash vines and dry
little bushes which might be potatoes or yams.  This was hardly a
sufficient food source for the thousands of Indians living huddled
along the creek.  Will observed, however, that they did not actually
depend on the produce of their garden.  He kept writing the word garden
in his report, each time wishing there were some more apt word to
capture the desolation of what was supposed to be an agricultural area.
The military supply train that had arrived a couple of days after he
started his job at Fort Sumner, coming from Santa Fe with several wagon
loads of goods and produce, had delivered bags and bags of flour and
cornmeal, as well as meat and fresh vegetables.  Little of the meat and
vegetables ever made it to the Indians, only the cornmeal and flour. 
This was their major food source.  But Will did not see how the Navajos
could survive on grain alone.  The Indians do raise chickens, so I
presume they have eggs, but still that's not an adequate diet.  At the
north end of the reservation, a sluice gate directed some of the water
of the Pecos down an irrigation ditch called the acequia madre to water
the farms.  Where does the water come from?  Apparently at some time in
the past there must have been much more water running through here. 
That would explain the wide deep wash.  Agroup of Navajos had built
what Will called their village along the riverbank just above the bend
in the creek.  From his quarters, he could see into this village. He
learned from a soldier who'd befriended him that the Navajos ordinarily
lived in conical-shaped lodges called hogans that were formed of mud
and earth packed over an armature of limbs and branches above a shallow
excavation.  These might have what was called a brush arbor attached to
provide shade outside the hogan.  Such hogans could be built quite
solidly and spaciously.  But most of the Indian dwellings around the
reservation looked like barely more than piles of brush or heaps of
stone and earth.  The dry, rocky-hard desert did not offer itself for
construction of the Navajos native habitat. Ironically, the soldier who
befriended Will and instructed him about Navajo ways was Pvt.  Timothy
McCarrie, the man who'd kicked the shackled Indian the day Will first
arrived.  For all that Mac McCarrie was sometimes antagonistic toward
the Indians, he knew a lot about them and proved a better source of
information for Will than General Carleton.  Will enjoyed his
conversations with the young redhead.

They call themselves Dineh, Mac explained.  It means The People in
their language.  Navajo is a Spanish word that means cultivated fields,
I guess cause they were farmers.

Farmers?  Will questioned.  I thought they were supposed to be fierce
warriors

The Dineh aren't not nearly as warlike as some other Indian tribes. The
nearby Apaches and the Comanches from across the border into Texas, for
instance, Mac continued, --they seem to relish killing for its own
sake.  Long before the white man came to the territory, they were
stealing from the Dineh and killing them for sport as much as for
gain.

The Dineh were mostly goat and sheep herders, Mac told Will.  They used
to live up in the Chuska Mountains to the west and in the Canyon de
Chelly at the base of the mountains.

You should see this canyon, McCarrie remarked excitedly.  The explorers
called it the Navajo fortress.  It looks like the ruins of a European
castle with rock walls and towers and spires, but all of it was carved
out of the sandstone by the river.  I was up there on a raiding party.
Real beautiful scenery, but scary as hell.  There are places where you
can see ancient cities built into the sides of cliffs, but all mostly
abandoned now.  Got a funny name!  It's a Spanish version of a Dineh
word, but it's spelled like French--D-E-C-H-E-L-L-Y--and it's
pronounced'd shay, like a horse drawn buggy.  That's where the Navajos
were fore Gen'ral Carleton ran em out and made em come here.  Mac
explained the Navajos lived in small settlements of one or two families
rather than in large tribal groupings and seemed to prefer to stick to
themselves.  Why are we at war with the Navajo?  Will added a question
to his list.  Mac also told him that among the members of this nearby
village were leaders who had power and influence over all the Navajos.
How is the political authority of the Navajo structured?  Who is in
charge?  Is anyone in charge?  More questions for the list.  Scraggly
cottonwood trees and now yellow and dry grasses grew all along the
riverbed.  The name Bosque Redondo, he learned, referred to a grove of
cottonwoods at the bend in the river.  The trees, most of them growing
on the high ground along the eroded wash, created a kind of natural
screen that separated the Indian village from the fort.  One large
hogan had been constructed on the high ground not far from the quarters
for the Indian Agent.  At first, Will assumed it must be the home of
the chief or the wealthiest man in the village.  But watching the
Indian settlement from the stoop of his cabin, he'd seen only
ceremonial events, dancing and drumming, thereabouts.  All these
observations simply resulted in more questions for Will's list.  He
hoped his careful accounting of conditions here would bring funding
from Mr. McDonald back in Washington to build the Indians decent
housing.  Why couldn't wooden cabins, like the one I'm quartered in, be
built for them?  By mid-May, the days were uniformly hot.  There'd been
no rain at all in the couple of weeks he had been there.  Will
considered with alarm what might happen if the creek dried up.  He
presumed General Carleton and his staff had investigated such concerns
before choosing this particular location.  Though, as he saw the
disregard with which the Indians were treated, Will had his doubts. 
Carleton seemed to ignore a lot of what was going on.  One afternoon,
Will was drifting in and out of sleep in his quarters out back of Fort
Sumner.  The day was stifling, and there was nothing to do to escape
the heat but sleep or daydream.  He'd been thinking longingly about his
friend Michael--his only friend, he sometimes thought.  During his
brief stint in the Confederate Army, Will had met Michael Halyerd, a
neighbor boy who had also been among the last draftees.  His family had
moved to Lynchburg a year before from western North Carolina after
their house was burned by Union raiders.  Michael's grandmother had
been a Cherokee Indian.  Some of the townsfolk shunned the boy because
of his darker skin color--even though he was, in fact, three-quarters
white.  But Will found Michael's thick black hair, rich tan color, and
dark liquid eyes and gentle manner fascinating.  Though Michael was
several years his junior, Will liked being with him.  The two took long
walks together, sharing their dreams for the future.  Michael wanted to
be a sailor and visit exotic places in the Old World.  He loved the
sounds of words like Shanghai, Madagascar, and The Ivory Coast.  His
thirst for adventure inspired Will.  For both of them, the dreams
seemed to be just dreams, however. Neither knew how they could possibly
get away from their lives in Virginia.  Will was kept busy farming. 
Michael also had to work. Often that required his traveling to the next
county where his brother managed a small timber mill.  He'd be gone for
weeks at a time. Sometimes, when Will hadn't seen him for some time, he
would wonder if Michael had discovered a way to escape their uneventful
lives.  He always felt excited for Michael when he had those thoughts. 
But he also felt especially lonesome and sorry for himself.  The times
of occasional boyish play with Michael Halyerd were the only bright
spots in his life.  Suddenly, Will was awakened by a loud explosion. 
Oh my God, it sounds like artillery bombardment.  He jumped up from his
cot and pulled on pants and boots.  There was a flash of light and
another explosion.  He flung open the wooden door of his cabin.  He
expected to see plumes of smoke.  Instead, what he saw was a sky full
of roiling clouds, and then a flash of lightning, followed by a clap of
thunder. A furious storm was right overhead.  He could see the Indians
scurrying around in their village seeking shelter.  Will felt a thrill:
relief from the heat, a blessing from the heavens.  The wind was
downright cold.  The air smelled rich of impending rain.  As the shower
began, Will walked out and stood barechested in the coolness.  He threw
his head back, closed his eyes and opened his mouth to let the rain
drops quench his thirst.  He stretched his arms and laughed that he'd
mistaken the storm for war.  He swallowed the rainwater and bent over
to shake his hair, like a dog shaking water out of its fur, when
something hard hit him on the head.  He startled.  Is somebody throwing
rocks? Apellet hit the ground next to his feet, throwing up a splatter
of red mud.  Then another, and another.  It's hailing.  Will darted
back inside.  From his cabin, Will could see the Indians huddling in
their mud huts.  The rain had become a full downpour.  Will the huts
just dissolve?  The wind was whistling outside; the hail subsided, but
the downpour went on harder than ever.  He worried that his own cabin
could not withstand the onslaught.  Then the rain slowed, and then was
gone. Will went outside.  To his amazement, the sky was clear overhead.
The late afternoon sun hung brilliant red near the horizon, shooting
out beams of orange-golden light.  In the northern sky, the clouds
towered high as the storm moved on.  Rain showered out of them in
sheets onto the parched desert.  On the edges of the storm, great
plumes of falling rain poured down but never reached ground,
evaporating in the desert air and being churned back up into the
tempest.  Surrounding the blue-black heart of the storm, the clouds
were white and billowy, kissed with orange from the setting sun.  Out
of the storm, lightning flashed, sometimes jumping from cloud to cloud,
sometimes rocketing to earth.  Thunder still echoed, though it no
longer sounded like artillery.  A breeze was blowing.  And it was still
cool.  Will gave thanks.  He wondered if the Indians worshipped storms.
Concerned about the Indians, Will clomped his way through the brick
red mud toward the village.  The ground had turned to a thick liquid,
so it was difficult to keep his footing.  He could see some of the
soldiers watching the storm pass.  A few of them were drenched.  Others
must have come out after the hail and rain had abated; their uniforms
were dry.  Along the creek, the Indians were moving around, inspecting
for damage from the downpour.  He hoped they'd be more friendly to him
if they saw he was concerned about what had happened to them.  At the
edge of the wash, he could see that the creek had doubled in size. 
Just then, he heard a dull roar.  The sound was increasing in volume. 
Suddenly, the Indians began screaming.  Will saw that one of them just
across the wash from him was shouting and gesturing, pointing up the
creek bed  Will's eye followed his hand.  And his stomach sank.  There
were a couple of Indians quite close to him struggling to climb up the
muddy side of the wash.  He ran to help.  He slid in the mud and was
covered in it by the time he got a hand down to help them up.  On the
other side of the wash, more Indians were struggling to get to higher
ground.  The roar was getting louder.  Awall of water eight feet high
was rushing toward them.  Will didn't see any more people trying to
climb out on his side, and he pulled at the two men he'd helped to get
away from the edge. Together, the three of them ran as fast as they
could from the oncoming torrent.  Water splashed all around them.  The
crest of the flash flood was higher than the walls of the creek bed  As
the water reached the bend in the creek, it flowed up over the sides
and surged against the nearby bank of the wash.  Will looked back in
horror to see the spot where he'd been standing crumble into the flood.
The two Indians he had helped ran back down to the edge of the swollen
river.  They pointed at a tree that thrust up from the bottom of the
riverbed.  An elderly man and a couple of women were stranded up in the
tree, while several more people were clinging to the trunk in the
raging water.  That tree must have survived floods like this in the
past.  It was such floods, obviously, that had cut the wide deep wash. 
But how long can it remain standing?  Will noticed the young Indian
woman, the one named Nadleh. He'd seen her from a distance during his
observations of the village, but she'd never paid him any attention. 
Now she was on the other side of the torrent.  She came striding down
to the water's edge, obviously in command, with a rope wound round her
forearm.  The small crowd who were pointing at the tree and shouting
quieted down and tried to help. Will wanted to help, too.  The tree
with the stranded Indians was much closer to him than to Nadleh.  But
he didn't have a rope, either with him or in his cabin.  It'd take much
too long to run back to the fort. And, anyway, he imagined, I'd
probably have to fill out some damned requisition before they'd give me
a rope.  He looked back, hoping to see that the woman had gotten her
line to the helpless victims of the flood, but she was nowhere in
sight.  Then, a moment later, she was standing practically right next
to him.  Her woolen dress was drenched, and her long black hair
streamed water.  She'd swum across to this side to get a better throw. 
The Indian woman tried to get the rope out to the people in the tree,
but to no avail.  She could throw it out to them, but none was able to
catch it.  The people in the limbs were elderly and not spry enough to
grab for it, and those in the water didn't dare release their grip on
the trunk.  Will remembered something he'd seen done when there'd been
a flood near his home in Virginia.  He ran back up the slope to his
cabin.  The door was hinged with leather straps but had a steel
doorknob bolted firmly to the wood.  He felt in his pockets.  Not
finding his knife, he ran inside and hurriedly looked around.  There it
was on his desk.  He'd been sharpening the nib of his pen earlier.  He
snatched up the knife and cut away the three thongs that held the door.
He came running back down the slope, dragging the door behind him.  He
went straight to the woman with the rope.  He didn't try to communicate
with her; she was obviously willing to cooperate. He grabbed the rope
from her hands and tied a sturdy knot around the knob.  He dragged the
door upstream a short distance and threw it into the torrent.  It
immediately washed up against the water's edge. Without thinking, Will
clambered down into the river, clinging with one hand to an outcropping
of rock that he hoped would be stable enough. One of the Indian men
he'd helped up rushed to hold his arm so he could push the door farther
out into the flow of the river.  Succeeding, he turned to the Indian
and grinned.  The man yanked him up out of the water.  The Indian
joined him in holding firmly to the rope as they watched the door float
downstream toward the stranded people.

Grab hold, he yelled, not knowing if they could hear him or if they
could understand English.  Nadleh, who was standing at the edge of the
water as close to the tree as possible, also yelled out something to
them.  As the door bobbed in the water near the tree, one of the men
holding onto the trunk released his hold and lunged out.  He threw
himself onto the makeshift raft.  Now Will and the Indian pulled back
on the rope to keep the door from floating on away from the tree.  Will
struggled to anchor his heels in the slippery mud.  Soon all the people
in the tree, including the old ones in the limbs, were clinging to the
door.  The weight of the people against the force of the water made it
difficult to hold.  Will feared the raft of people might be washed
downstream any minute--the tragic failure of his bright idea.  He and
his Indian helper began to walk slowly downstream, pulling in on the
rope, dragging the raft toward the side.  It was hard work.  The Indian
kept losing his grip and slipping in the mud.  Will wasn't sure he
could manage alone.  He, too, felt he was losing control.  Then he felt
someone else grab the rope behind him firmly and solidly.  Slowly,
surely, the raft with all its passengers safely aboard was pulled in to
shore.  Several Indians reached out and helped the survivors scramble
out of the water.  Will relaxed his grip.  He turned and, to his
surprise, saw that the person who'd joined the emergency tug-o -war was
none other than the mysterious Indian woman, Nadleh.  She looked toward
him, but without expression.  Then one of the Indians by the riverside
called out, catching her attention.  She looked away, then grabbed the
rope from Will's hand, coiling it round her forearm as she headed over
toward the nearly drowned Indians.  The old man they'd saved was
clutching his chest as if in pain.  Suddenly, Will found himself
standing there all alone, half-naked, soaking wet, covered with mud. He
wanted somebody to say thanks, but the Indians had abandoned him. He
didn't think it wise for him to go over and force his way into the
circle around the ailing elder.  So he turned and started up the slope
toward his cabin.  He could see a small crowd of soldiers silhouetted
in the brilliant orange sunset.  They had gathered at the top of the
slope to watch.  Why hadn't they helped, for God's sake?  And now
they'll probably make fun of me when I go in for supper.  When Will
reached his now doorless cabin, he saw that the water was already
subsiding.  I guess I ought to go down to the creek to wash this mud
off while the river is still flowing deep.  It probably won't be long
before everything is back to just the way it was before.  Will didn't
know it, but nothing was ever going to be back to just the way it was
before.

Chapter Three

The next morning was sweltering.  The beginning of summer heat,
combined with the moisture from last evening's rain, was driving the
humidity to an unbearable level.  After breakfast, Will came back to
his cabin.  He sat on the front stoop to watch the Indians inspect what
remained of their shelters and search for belongings that had been
swept into the water.  They had suffered a terrible devastation.  Many
of the mud huts looked at least partially damaged by the pelting hail
and rain.  He was sure it was his job to intercede on their behalf.
Perhaps he could convince General Carleton to requisition supplies from
Fort Defiance or from Santa Fe, where the Territorial Headquarters of
the Indian Affairs Office was located.  Maybe now they could get timber
and planking to construct regular housing for them.  I'm not sure the
Indians want me meddling in their affairs.  They didn't seem
particularly grateful to me for rescuing some of them from drowning.
But I'm going to try.  Will even decided that in a day or two, when the
immediate trauma of the disaster had passed, he was going to go down to
the village and insist on meeting the chief.  He had read about Indian
chiefs.  There was bound to be a man in charge down there.  I know
that's who I need to talk to.  The troops had also come out to survey
the damage.  Many of the men had stripped off their uniform tunics and
shirts, since the humidity soon had everybody's clothes drenched with
sweat.  Will was wearing only a sleeveless muslin undershirt himself.
He found he couldn't pull his eyes away for long from the sight of the
men's bare skin.  He'd noticed a couple of them before and had been
drawn to something about them.  He hoped Pvt.  Tim McCarrie might
appear among the barechested soldiers.  One of the young men had an
especially striking physique.  Every muscle in his chest and torso was
clearly defined.  He was walking back and forth along the edge of the
creek bed  As he moved, the muscles rippled under his skin.  He
occasionally shouted epithets at the Indians, and Will hated him for
that.  But he couldn't keep himself from looking.  Another man toward
whom Will felt such ambivalent and confusing feelings was Sergeant J.F.
Peak.  And now Sergeant Peak was swaggering right toward his cabin. The
soldier was wearing a blue uniform shirt unbuttoned and hanging open. 
Peak was a big man, his chest was well-muscled and hairy.  Peak's face
was craggy, his features a little too heavy, but he was handsome in a
burly, masculine way.  His hair and beard were thick and must have been
brassy red when he was younger, but now had turned dull sandy gray. 
His face had been rendered leathery by the desert sun.  There was a
look of perpetual anger in his eyes.  From things he'd heard him say,
Will guessed him to be in his early forties, but he looked worn and
hardened well beyond that age.  Peak came right up to Will.  He took a
whisky flask out of his hip pocket, then sat down uninvited beside him
on the cabin step.  The step was short, so Will was crowded right up
against him shoulder to shoulder.

Wanna sip?  Peak slurred.  General's declared it a holiday.  Cause of
the flood last night.  The heat and all.

No, Will said with no effort to be polite.  At home, he'd been taught
always to say, No, thank you.  Sergeant Peak didn't notice.

It's always a damn holiday, Peak went on.  Ain't got nothin to do out
here anyway ceptin wait for a chance to shoot some Injuns.  Say, you
been here two weeks or so?  Had your fill o Injuns yet?  Will was
furious at Peak for invading his solitude.  I don't feel like I've had
time to even begin to understand them, he said, forcing down his
bile.

Well, the only thing ya gotta understand to stay alive is that ya can't
trust savages.  At every post I been at, all they do is cause
trouble.

They probably feel the same way about us, Will said sharply.  He wasn't
sure why he defended them.  He still worried they'd scalp him along
with the rest of the men at Fort Sumner if they had half a chance. 
Peak continued, If I had my way, any time there's trouble I'd shoot a
bunch. Right on the spot.  It's the only language they understand.  He
took a swig of his whisky and continued.  Only way to show em they
better not try resistin us.  This is civilized country now.  Will
wondered if he could get information out of the obnoxious soldier. 
Maybe, in his drunken state, he would explain some of the mysteries
Will had encountered.  Are they better off here than in their
homeland?

Damn the damn Injuns.  Peak rocked back and forth on the stoop.  Will
smelled stale alcohol fumes.  The white settlers are damn sure better
off with them here.  Keeps both the Navajos and the Comanches from
makin trouble.

Besides, we be doin the Injuns a big favor bringin em here, he added.
Out there in that damn canyon of theirs, they lived like animals.
Savage heathens they were--pure n simple good for nothin but trouble.
Here on the reservation, Gen'ral Carleton gonna get em civilized so
that they live in goddamn harmony with the blessed Christians comin out
here to settle the land for the Union.  Peak laughed at his own little
speech.  Only good Injun's a dead Injun, he muttered.

How come you're so bitter toward the Indians?

I been hurt bad real bad, ya hear by the damn Injuns.  Got a score to
settle up.  Mebbe I'll tell ya bout it.  If you're interested Peak's
voice trailed off as though he'd forgotten what he was talking about.

Yes, I would be interested, Will said.  In an odd way, he felt sorry
for the soldier.  That kind of hatred must cause its own pain.

Interested in what?  Peak slurred.  He scowled at Will quizzically.

In why you hate the Indians, Will said, reminding Peak what they'd been
talking about.

Who needs a reason to hate Injuns?  Peak stood up and blustered.  He
pointed out toward the village where the Indians were cleaning up the
damage done by the flood.  Just look at em.  Too stupid not to build
their houses away from the goddamn river.

Has it flooded like this before?

Goddamn right.  Every time it rains, the water rises.   Well, they
have to be near the water, Will answered in justification.  It's hot
and dry out here.

Damn right.

Has a flood ever come through here and washed out the Indian s, uh,
dwellings before?

In winter, the river's full.  But no floodin like last night, Peak
chuckled meanly.  Still, it's their own fault.  Too high n mighty to
live like decent folks.

How come the government hasn't built regular housing for them here?

We got better things to do with the goddamn taxpayers dollars, Peak
said.  It'd be a waste o money.  Wouldn't they go buildin houses right
where a flood'd wash em away again?  Peak was still standing up waving
his arm in the direction of the Navajo settlement.  He rocked back and
forth on his feet.  Will wondered if he were going to fall over,
perhaps right into his lap.  Gen'ral Carelton's got better things to do
with that money than spend it on the Injuns, I tell ya.

What money?  In seeming exasperation, Peak harrumphed, The goddamn
money the government sends out here, that's what.

Is the government sending money out here for the Indians?

Now, look here, don't you go stickin your nose in places it don't
belong.  That's what happened to the last Agent.  Bet he wishes he
never stuck his nose into the money.  Is that what General Carleton
doesn't want me to find out about?  What did happen to the last
Agent?

He had to run off, ya know.  Peak laughed raucously.  He pointed into
Will's quarters.  An Injun girl got herself killed and raped in there
had her throat cut.  Sure angered some Injun braves Well, it served him
right shouldn't've asked bout the money.  And neither should you, you
goddamn Rebel As Peak's tone turned angry, Will reconsidered his
inquisitiveness.  Maybe I'm just creating trouble for myself.  He
changed the subject.  What do you know about the Indians village?

I know it ain't no village, Mister Southern Gentleman.  Navajos call em
outfits.  Least in Christian English dunno what they call em in the
heathen tongue o theirs.  Whaddya want to know?

Well, who's the chief?

God only knows.  There's an old man they trot out for Council meetin's
whenever a delegation shows up to negotiate a goddamn treaty.  But that
tall woman ya see now and then seems as much in charge as him.  Damn!
Can you imagine em all bein run by a woman?

I know who you're talkin about, Will said.  Now his curiosity was
really piqued.  Who is she?

That's her over there, Peak pointed toward the main hogan.  Several of
the Navajos were gathered there.  And, indeed, Nadleh was among them.

Most o the Injun women are so goddamn ugly, they ain't good for nothin
but swyvin and kinin .  Peak took a long swig from his flask.  That
one's a different matter.  She's quite a looker, ain't she?  His tone
had changed from anger to lasciviousness.  In a gesture that downright
appalled and embarrassed Will, Peak grabbed at his crotch and made a
couple of unsteady thrusting motions with his hips.  Bet she could use
a good fuckin by a real man.  Get her off her high horse.

I agree with you, Sergeant, that she is an attractive woman and carries
herself well, Will said with exaggerated propriety.  But I don't think
you--or any of the soldiers--should be having relations with the Indian
women.  It wouldn't be Christian.  He could hear his father's tone in
his own voice.  It surprised him.  It surprised him, as well, that he
had felt a surge of lustful excitement from Peak's words.

Don't you go tellin me what to do and what not t do.  You ain't some
kinda officer out here.  Y r just a bureaucratic nuisance we gotta put
up with til we manage to get rid o you.

I'm the official Indian Agent, Will said sternly.  Peak stepped back
and made a display of looking Will up and down.  Then he spat on the
ground and sneered.  You're just a skinny little boy, playing like a
man. Why, I bet you're still a damn virgin.

I am not, Will retorted defensively, but wondered if his meager
experience would have counted in Peak's judgment.  I am certainly not
going to explain.

Well, then, why don't you and me go on down right now and find that
squaw and take us a little satisfaction?  Peak said.  It sure would
raise my estimation o you, ya little Rebel bastard.

I don't think you have any right to talk to me that way.  And if you
keep this tone of voice with me, mister, I'm going to report you to
General Carleton.  Peak laughed scornfully.  You do that.  He did a
wobbly about-face and, without a word more, staggered down toward the
creek bed Will was relieved he'd left.  He wasn't sure he should have
been talking with Peak at all.  He'd gotten a little bit of
information, but he'd also riled up the man who seemed his major
antagonist.  What did I learn?  He looked into his cabin and shuddered
to think what had happened in there.  Well, if that were so, it's a
credit to General Carleton that the Agent was dismissed.  Will was
relieved to surmise that apparently the Indians hadn't murdered the
Agent and that the man had just run off.  But about the money?  Will
had understood that the government wanted and expected the Indians to
be self-sufficient.  That's why, I thought, there's so little
assistance available to them.  But then why were they moved to this
harsh environment?  What was the money Peak talked about?  He would
have to add that to his growing list of questions for General Carleton.
He'd never been shown any disbursement figures or been told how to
requisition aid for his charges.  What if there are funds to be had for
the Indians support?  That was what Carelton and Bauer had been talking
about my maybe wanting a cut of, wasn't it?  Will was gratified to have
learned that the flash flood was an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence.  If
the river rose even several feet when it rained, he could see there was
still lots of room for the water in the wide creek without endangering
the Indians shelters.  It would have disturbed him to think the Indians
were so out of touch with the realities of desert life that they had
built their homes right where disaster was imminent.  Of course, this
wasn't their homeland.  Maybe they had no choice but to live in hovels
because they were not allowed to build decent shelters or were refused
the basic materials needed for doing so.  I will have to write Mr.
McDonald about this.  Some policy changes are needed.  If the previous
Agent had been so insensitive as to murder one of the Indian women,
it's no wonder he didn't report bad or ineffective policies on the
Indians behalf.  Maybe he'd been as crude and mean and narrow-minded as
Sergeant Peak.  And Carleton had made that veiled reference to the
Agent expecting to collect the rewards for keeping the Indians here. He
had been embezzling, hadn't he?  Will surveyed the village, the outfit,
he corrected himself.  He noticed that the gathering near the central
hogan had broken up.  He found himself searching for the tall Indian
woman.  He felt a certain pride in feeling attraction to the woman. 
Not that he'd do anything like Peak had talked about.  It's just that
he'd never felt an attraction of that sort to a woman before. He
understood enough about human nature to know what men are supposed to
want to do with women.  If that were done right, it would result in the
conception of a child.  And that's what God had created the sexual
organs for.  At least, that's what his father had said.  He knew his
father wouldn't be especially happy that the first woman he felt such
feelings of attraction for was a Navajo Indian.  He himself didn't
understand what it was about her that appealed to him, but he still
liked the feeling.  She doesn't seem to like me, though.  But
considering what the previous Agent--an embezzler and a
murderer--apparently did, her cold reaction isn't surprising.  I hope I
can show her I'm not like that and I respect her.  Unlike other women
Will had known, Nadleh seemed self-possessed and strong and
authoritative.  At the same time, she seemed to have a streak of
kindness and compassion.  Last night, she'd risked her life to swim
across the raging torrent to help her comrades.  The other Indians were
afraid of the water, but this woman had overcome whatever fears she
might have had.  I honestly hope I can prove myself to her.  Excited,
but also confused, about his feelings for Nadleh, Will was reminded of
Charlotte Franklin, his former schoomate and, probably, his father's
choice for him as a bride--a choice he hadn't wanted made for him. Will
cringed with embarrassment, thinking back to the day all possibility of
his marrying Charlotte had ended.  It was the first Sunday in April of
1867, the spring after his mother's death.  Will had driven in with his
father for services.  While Reverend Lee went into the church the back
way, Will tied up the mule and buggy.  Then he slipped into the white
clapboard church building.  Seeing his friend Michael in his usual
place, he climbed over a couple of children, crowding them at the end
of the pew, so he could get the seat next to his friend.  Michael had
been away for the past two weeks, and Will had missed him.  As Will
settled into the seat in the crowded pew, Michael turned and gave him
one of his funny winks.  Will sat with his thigh pressed against
Michael s. Each time one or the other moved his arm, their shoulders
would brush.  He could feel Michael's warmth radiating through his
white linen shirt.  And when the congregation stood to sing, through
the starched white fabric he could just make out the outline of
Michael's dark-skinned chest and slender torso.  After the service
ended, Michael and Will bypassed the receiving line at the door where
Reverend Lee stood accepting the flattery of his parishioners. What a
great Christian you are, Brother Lee, more than one parishioner gushed.
You know how the devil lurks in the human heart, another added, and
you can make him squirm.  Will and Michael both knew they didn't belong
in that line.  And so when an elderly man stopped Will to tell him how
lucky he was to be the son of such a righteous preacher, Michael made
an exit.  Will struggled to get away from the paris honer but once
outside the building, he was caught by Charlotte.

Why, William, she said in a dainty but forceful voice, how ever so fine
are you today?

I'm doing well, he answered with studied indifference.  This was not
the first time he'd been accosted after church by the very eligible
Mistress Franklin.  How's your family?

Just the same Oh, William, Charlotte was not one to waste time with
social niceties.  I don't want to talk about family with you.  You know
what's coming up next Sunday?  she asked excitedly.  We young ladies
have got all the plannin done for the church picnic.  I'm just getting
so thrilled thinkin about all that good food and all Charlotte let out
a little squeal, perfectly timed with the raising of her right shoulder
and a drawing back of her lips to show off her white teeth.  It just
occurred to me you might be able to give me a ride.  Ya know, we could
go there together.  Charlotte Franklin was an attractive young lady,
with long blonde hair and pretty blue eyes.  She looked healthy.  She
was dressed stylishly in full skirts of pale yellow organdy with white
lace that closed around her neck but allowed the milky white skin of
her shoulders and upper chest to show through.  Her outfit was topped
with a wide-brimmed straw sun hat that tied around her chin with a
green satin ribbon, and she wore matching green satin gloves.  How am I
going to get out of this?  Not only do I not want to attend the church
social because I didn't want to get treated like the pastor's son, but
also I don't want to get trapped in Charlotte Franklin's clutches.  He
knew his father and old man Franklin had decided he would make a good
match for the girl.

Gee, Charlotte, thanks for the invitation.  That'd be nice, but, uh, I
really can t. Charlotte's cheery mood changed with amazing suddenness.
With her hands on her hips and her shoulders hunched forward with
indignation, she blurted, Well, William Lee, I tried.  Just like all
the other times.  But you simply can't be moved.  Sometimes I don't
know whatever I'm gonna do, with so many of the young men dead from the
war, or left with stumps where their arms and legs should be.  And here
you are, perfect as the day you were born.  You are the handsomest man
in the whole county, and I can't even get you to turn your head.  Now
she was practically pleading, looking at him in a way that made his
heart shiver.  It is me?  Is there something wrong with me?

Oh, no, Charlotte, he said genuinely, but maybe a little too quickly.
He knew what it was like to believe people thought there was something
wrong with you.  But he didn't want to give her any ideas.  It's not
you.  You're the prettiest girl in these parts.   Then I can't
understand you she pouted.  You know, people are wonderin just what's
the matter with you.  Her voice took on an edge.  Will Lee, she said.
With each succeeding word, the volume and timbre of her voice increased
and her Virginia country accent broadened.  People are beginnin ta
talk!  Oh, God.  The world came to a complete halt.  Will imagined all
the parishioners standing around chatting in the cheery spring sunlight
suddenly hushing themselves and turning, like clockwork figures, in his
direction.  He wasn't really sure anybody had overheard, but he just
froze.  He didn't have any idea what to say back to Charlotte.  He
stared at the ground, afraid to raise his eyes.  He could see only the
hem of Charlotte's yellow skirt on the bright green grass of the church
lawn.  But he could imagine that her milky white shoulders were now
hunched very high and her white teeth were gleaming through a tightly
drawn smile on clenched jaws.  He didn't hear the pounding sound coming
toward him until a war whoop right behind his head resounded above the
galloping hoofbeats.  A rope fell across his right shoulder.  He looked
up.

How ze about a little ride, buddy?  Michael called out.  There he was
on horseback, high above Will looking strong and powerful, and holding
out the rope.  Without even thinking, Will grabbed hold with both hands
and, with the assist of a quick jerk on the rope from Michael, pulled
himself right up behind his friend onto the horse's back.  With another
whoop, Michael turned the horse, and off they went at a gallop.  With
both arms, Will clutched hold of Michael.  He was aware of the bony
structure of Michael's shoulders.  He didn't dare look back.  But he
could imagine the expressions on the faces of Charlotte and the other
churchgoers.  He was sure his father must have witnessed the whole
incident.  Now, he told himself, Nadleh is nothing like Charlotte.
Nobody is expecting me to feel something I don't feel.  This is up to
me, he thought proudly.  He scanned the far side of the creek.  Yes,
there she is.  He felt a surge of excitement.  Nadleh was carefully
searching the ground, apparently looking for belongings that had been
washed into the flood.  She walked farther down the creek on Will's
side of the water.  His eyes followed.  He admired the supple way she
moved. Even from as far away as he was, he perceived a certain grace in
her movements.  Then she disappeared into a clump of trees that grew
close to the water.  Lots of debris, including several uprooted trees,
had piled up there.  That was an obvious place to look for things that
had gotten washed into the flood.  Alittle sorry he'd lost his view of
her, Will looked away.  His eye darted back to that barechested soldier
with the muscled physique.  He was still out there roaming up and down
the near bank of the wash.  Then something else caught his eye. 
Sergeant Peak was clumsily slipping down the bank into the creek bed
near where he'd just seen the Indian woman.  He remembered what Peak
had suggested.  I don't like this.  In fact, it was my questioning that
brought the soldier's attention to Nadleh.  If Peak carries out his
lascivious plan, in a way, I'm responsible.  Will jumped up from the
stoop and hurried to the bank.  He agilely vaulted down, grabbing at a
large rock for balance.  He arrived just in time to see that Peak had,
as he'd feared, accosted the Indian woman while both of them were out
of sight in the clump of trees.  Neither noticed him.  Peak was waving
his pistol at her.  Get down on the ground, he commanded.  Up there,
pointing toward a flat space farther back in the grove of trees.  The
Indian woman obeyed without expression.  Does she understand English?
She seemed either totally cowed by Peak's gun or confident that she
could handle him.  Perhaps she was playing along with Peak till she had
him in a vulnerable position and could turn the odds.  Would the
Navajos know about alcohol and its effects?  Will didn't want to
meddle. He should let the Indian woman handle things her way.  She
seemed amazingly competent.  He imagined she could overpower the
drunken soldier easily with the strength he'd seen last night.  He
didn't want to insult her, though he prepared himself to intervene if
there was even a chance Peak might hurt her.

You know how long it's been since I had me a woman?  Peak slurred the
words even more than earlier.  He was talking to himself as much as to
the Indian.  Even if you is an Injun gal, still's better n nothin .
Hell, last woman was an Injun.  He laughed.  But she weren't much fun
just lay there.  He cackled again.  Now you keep still, ya hear, and
show a little cooperation.  Don't say a word, and there'll be no
trouble.  I know how you savages are.  He grabbed at his crotch just as
he had earlier.  Bet you're really wantin this, ain't ya?  The woman
looked up at him blankly.  Maybe she doesn't understand.  Will didn't
know what to do.  He'd always avoided confrontations at all costs, but
he struggled within himself.  He didn't want to surprise Peak and risk
getting both himself and the Indian killed, but he had to do something.
Brandishing the pistol, Peak stumbled to his knees right on top of the
woman's legs with her feet pinned under him.  He undid his belt buckle
and then the fly of his uniform pants and then extracted his penis. 
For all Will's horror at what was happening, he couldn't help feeling a
kind of sexual excitement.  Everything about this event was distasteful
to him.  Even so, there was something so sexually charged about the
man's erect organ that Will had to watch.  Peak grabbed himself and
waved it as though the Indian woman would enjoy seeing it.  With the
other hand, he held the pistol aimed toward her face.  The Indian
simply looked on.  Peak reached down and caressed the woman's delicate
ankle, then began sliding his hand up her leg, pushing her dress up
with it. Will's heart was beating hard.  When is it going to be time to
stop this?  Peak's hand had slid far up under the fabric of the long
woolen dress.  Suddenly, his expression changed.  He yanked his hand
away and then grabbed at the dress, pulling at it angrily.  A faint
smile crossed the woman's face.  Now is the time.  Will stood up and
stepped from behind the bush that had been hiding him.  Neither Peak
nor the Indian woman noticed him.  Peak had clutched enough of the
fabric that he could push it all the way up over her thighs.  He let
out a funny yelp.  You're not a goddamned woman!  he stammered.  In
shock himself, Will looked down at the Indian to see just what had
surprised Sergeant Peak.  The Indian's lower body was exposed.  Her
legs and hips were slim, but strong.  And she had a normal male penis
and testicles.  Will looked at her face, so feminine and so in contrast
to the lower part of her body.  His world reeled.  Peak staggered to
his feet, pulling his pants up around his waist.  He then held the gun
with both hands pointing it directly at the Indian's chest.  You
disgusting freak.  I'm gonna blow you straight to hell where you
belong.

I don't think that would be a good idea, Sergeant, Will interrupted,
struggling to keep his voice as calm and authoritative as possible.  He
clasped his hands behind his back to prevent Peak from seeing how they
were trembling.  It gave the suggestion that he had a firearm tucked
behind him.  Peak looked around with a wild-eyed expression, What're
you doin here?  Guess ya changed your mind and decided to join me after
all?  Well, here's a surprise.  Look at this, he said.  This here's no
woman at all Will looked at the Indian's face.  She seemed frightened,
but there was also a look of smug superiority.  Maybe she was afraid of
Peak's violent reaction, but she wasn't ashamed at all of the truth
he'd discovered.  In fact, she seemed proud of it, as though in his
reaction it were Peak who was peculiar, not she.  None of this made any
sense.  But Will knew he wasn't going to allow Peak to hurt this
Indian.  Nadleh seemed to be a valued and respected member of the
tribe.  She hadn't done anything to deserve Peak's outrage.  Peak still
held the pistol limply in his hand, but he was no longer aiming it at
the Indian.  Will had stopped him from shooting her.  He felt a great
relief and a great sense of embarrassment himself.  He
inadvertently--and even he thought inappropriately--started to giggle.
Peak, mistaking Will's nervous reaction for a snicker of derision,
exclaimed crazily, I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking I'm
that way, too.  That I tried something with this, this Peak raised the
pistol again and cocked it, pointing it right at the Indian.  With a
firmness that surprised even himself, Will stepped up, reached for the
pistol and took it right out of Peak's hand.  The sergeant looked at
him, flabbergasted.  Feeling confident, Will got an idea.  He pointed
the gun at Peak and then at the Indian.  Shooting this Indian might not
be such a bad idea.  Guess I could shoot you both.  But, Sergeant, if I
just shoot her, somebody's gonna hear.  Your troops are gonna show up
and find you with uh, with him.  He said the gendered pronoun very
distinctly.  I wouldn't need to shoot you then, would I?  Not that I'm
the kind to do something like that, Sergeant.  But I just bet you'd be
the laughingstock of the whole fort.  Will wasn't sure Peak would
understand in his drunken state, but the soldier was obviously
panicked.

Do you want your comrades to know you were demanding sex from another
man?

Hey, I wasn't demanding sex from another man, Peak shot back.

Looks like it to me, Will said with mock ingenuousness.

Look, Mr.  Lee, I thought we was friends.  After all, we had that nice
little talk this mornin on your front porch.

I'd hardly call that a front porch, Sergeant, Will said, toying with
the soldier.  He warned himself not to get too cocky.  How about
buttonin yourself up there?  He gestured at Peak's pants fly with the
pistol.

Hey, don't do that.  The gun might go off.

Yes, it might.

Look, whaddya want me to do?  Will's emerging plan was all based on a
bluff that even he didn't entirely understand.  Well, first off, he
said laying out an ultimatum, leave the Indian alone.  In fact, stand
up and get over there!  He gestured Peak away from the Navajo.  Peak
was struggling to get his pants back on straight and his belt
buckled.

And button up your shirt, Sergeant.  Look like a soldier, not some
goddamned libertine.  Will enjoyed using Peak's panic against him.

Yeah, yeah.

Then, second, you promise me on your word of honor not to say anything
about this today, and I'll give my word not to mention it either.  To
anyone.  Ever.  Peak limply held up his left hand palm outward.
Promise.  But what about that one?  He pointed at the Indian who had
pushed her dress down now and was carefully coming to her feet.  Will
turned to the Indian.  He softened his voice, What is your name?

Nad-leh, the Indian said.  Will was pleased to know he'd guessed
correctly.  This made him feel more of a connection with her.

Nadleh, do you promise never to mention this to anyone?  If you tell,
it might not go well for you.  You could get killed.

I promise, Nadleh nodded in agreement.

Well, there you have it.  Will turned to Peak.  This Indian dead would
be nothing but trouble for you.  In fact, if you give her any trouble
in the future, I'd be bound by my oath of office, you know, Sergeant,
to testify to this whole incident.  You understand that?  Peak seemed
to have sobered up fast.  Look, Lee, I don't want no trouble.  I don't
got no loyalty to them Injuns.  I don't give a damn what they do to
each other.  You just keep your mouth shut, and I'll do the same.

Now, you go on back to the fort, Sergeant.  I'll stay here with the
Indian so it doesn't look like you've been back here alone with her,
uh, him.  Oh, and I'll bring you back the pistol later.  After you've
had a chance to sober up.  Peak wobbled off in dismay.  Will and
Nadleh watched as he headed up the creek bed

There, Will said, that seems to have taken care of him.  He smiled,
feeling a sense of accomplishment and a bond with this Indian.  Nadleh
said nothing.  He stuck the pistol into his belt.  You all right?  he
asked Nadleh.  He extended his hand.  But she just looked at him.  Then
she turned and without a word ran toward the Indian settlement.  He
wasn't sure what it meant that the Indian woman he'd been so fascinated
with turned out to have a male body.  That did help explain her
surprising strength last night.  But what does it mean that she's a
man?  Whatever it meant, Will still found her fascinating and
attractive.  Maybe even more so now.  His heart was pounding, and he
was trembling all over. Only some of that was out of relief that nobody
had gotten shot.  Will stood there by himself.  His heart was beating
so hard he feared his chest might explode.  Then, uncontrollably, a
wide grin spread across his face.  The rest of that day Will felt both
anxiety and excitement. He didn't think he could expect Peak to keep
his word not to say anything.  But it didn't seem to make much
difference.  Peak wasn't likely to implicate him in anything he might
say lest Will recount the event differently.  And Peak wasn't likely to
reveal what he'd discovered about the Indian, Nadleh, simply because it
would suggest he'd been somehow more involved with the Indian than he
should have.  Will couldn't help laughing every time he remembered the
look on Peak's face when he discovered the Indian had male organs.  He
wished the Indian had whipped the daylights out of ol Sergeant Peak,
just to teach him a lesson.  But maybe that isn't the way of the
Indians Will was fascinated by Nadleh.  He'd never seen a man dressed
as a woman before. In Virginia, such a thing would have been
scandalous, though he laughed to himself to think that any number of
those people back in Lynchburg whom he'd always taken to be fine,
genteel ladies might have had penises and testicles under their
voluminous dresses.  After all, I never had a chance to look.  But what
does it mean?  Is it just a costume?  Or is a man who dresses like a
woman inviting sexual congress with other men?  Will did not add this
to his list of questions for General Carleton, but he certainly held it
in his own heart.  Will's mind was swept with emotion.  He remembered
that Sunday when Michael had rescued him from Charlotte Franklin's
questioning accusations Michael had not objected to Will's continuing
to hold on to him tightly, as they rode away from the church leaving
Charlotte standing bemused, even after the horse slowed to a leisurely
pace.  After a while, Will became a little self-conscious and relaxed
his grip, though he still kept one hand on Michael's body to balance
himself.

You know, Will said in his friend's ear, Maybe Charlotte's right.  I'm
now the only guy my age who isn't married?  Most of them are already
fathers.  I can't even imagine myself

I ain't never getting married, Michael interrupted cockily.  As soon as
I can save up enough money, I'm gonna be off to Norfolk to be a sailor.
Why, I've already saved some from haulin lumber.

Yeah, me, too.  I've got it hidden in the barn.

How much?  Michael asked enthusiastically.  Let's go count the money.
Maybe we got enough tween the two of us to run off to Norfolk
together

I dunno, Will said.  His emotions were a whirl.  This seemed the best
offer he'd ever been made.  But the truth was he wasn't interested in
going to Norfolk Harbor.  He didn't want to be a sailor.  I get seasick
just crossing a wide river on a raft.

You stay on dry land then, Michael countered, but let's get out of
here.  Isn't that what you want?  There's a whole world out there Will
turned serious.  Maybe my dreams of leaving home are just shirking my
responsibilities.  I know I ought to get married.  God knows, Charlotte
wouldn't be such a bad wife.  Besides, I'm going to have support and
take care of my father in his old age.

Oh, come now, William, Michael spat back in his plucky way, you know
Reverend Lee'll be preaching til the day they put him in the grave and
rakin in the money.  He don't need you to support him.  He gives the
people all the hellfire and damnation they can handle, Michael joked,
and they always cough up plenty o money to relieve their guilt.  Will
grinned at his friend's critique of the preaching profession.

Hey, Will, cheer up, he said, You've got two legs and two
arms--complete with all your fingers and toes even.  Michael wiggled
his own fingers outlandishly.  And the whole assembly looks pretty good
to me.  Will wasn't sure what to make of that.  Was Michael simply
confirming Charlotte's observation that he was practically the only
intact and eligible bachelor in these parts?  Or was there something
more?

Maybe I should show an interest in Charlotte

But she's a girl, Michael interrupted, revealing his callow
boyishness.

At least that'd get people off my back, Will continued, cause I'd be
fulfillin my responsibilities.

Why, sure, you could get married and have a whole slew o young
uns--happy as a pig in a mud waller cause you'd fulfilled your
re-sponsi-bil-i-tees.  He drew the last word out in ridicule.  Michael
was gesturing wildly, and both were liable to loose their balance on
the back of the horse.  Will could not help but laugh.  As they neared
the barn, Michael waved one hand in the air and let out another of his
whoops and urged the horse on into a canter.  They were both bouncing
around and laughing when they arrived at their destination.

You gonna show me your fortune, Michael jibed.  Well, c mon then, Will
announced, leading the way into the dusty barn.  He went back to the
rear and started digging under a pile of hay.  While Will was getting
into his hiding place, Michael spied an old bonnet that Maudie used to
wear for going out in the sun.  He tied it around his face, mimicking
Charlotte.  Oh, William, I just don't know what I ze gonna do bout you.
You the only whole white boy in these parts, and you just ain't takin a
shine t me nohows.  Will was embarrassed, but he was enjoying the
playfulness.  Michael grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up and
swung him around.  In the silly Charlotte voice, he screeched, So c
mon, honey boy, with all your appendages intact.  How ze bout givin me
a little re-sponsi-bil-i-tees kiss, so's we can set the date to tromp
down that there aisle?  With that, Michael laughingly gave him a full
wet kiss, right on the mouth.  Will was laughing and playing along with
the fun.  Then he lost his balance and fell backward into the pile of
hay behind him.  He looked up at Michael.  Though Michael's face was
shadowed under the bonnet, they held each other's gaze.  Suddenly,
neither was laughing.  Will felt such a flood of joy and thankfulness
for his friend.  It was an almost metaphysical emotion he felt, yet it
burned in his limbs as a physical urge.  Now that same urge seemed to
be building in him again, this time for Nadleh.  Will shook his head,
trying to dispel all the confusion.  The Indians all seem to treat
Nadleh with utmost respect, he explained to himself, seeking to replace
the emotion with rationality.  Surely, they know this person is male.
Could it be possible they don't know?  Even in his ignorance of Indian
culture, Will doubted that could be so.  If only the Navajos would talk
to me.  If only I knew enough of the Navajo language to talk to them.
But that's not the real problem, is it?  The real problem is that the
Navajos don't trust me and don't want to trust.  And I can't see why in
the world they would or should.  To them, I'm just another white man.
*** The next morning after his baffling discovery about Nadleh, before
going up to the mess hall for the usual breakfast of coffee and
biscuits, Will poured water into his wash bowl, cleaned his face,
brushed his teeth, and shaved.  He combed his hair and tried his best
to make himself look like a gentleman.  After returning from the mess,
he got out his field glasses and took his usual position on the stoop
of his quarters, now still doorless.  So far as he knew, the door had
washed away in the flood.  He didn't know how to get materials to make
another one.  He hadn't asked any of the soldiers about it yesterday
because, as Peak told him, the general had declared it a holiday.  And
I know they d've complained if I'd asked for help on a day off.  None
of the soldiers had mentioned his participation in the daring rescue
the other evening, though many had watched.  The Indians hadn't seemed
thankful.  It all looked pretty futile.  Maybe coming to Fort Sumner
hadn't been a very good idea in the first place.  Is this government
appointment, which I'd thought was going to be my salvation, turning
out to be my downfall instead?  I'm twenty-one years old, time for a
man to be looking for a wife, taking a steady job and beginning to
build a home.  When am I going to grow up?  How am I going to grow up
out here in the West?  Going back to Lynchburg is out of the question,
but what's going to become of me in this wilderness?  As these vexing
questions raced through his mind, a gray-haired old Navajo woman walked
up to him.  She was short, sunbeatened, and stooped with age, but there
was a studied, cultured air about her.  She walked with dignity.  Her
eyes sparkled with intensity.  She was dressed in a purple satin skirt
and red velvet blouse.  Will recognized the clothes as out-of-style
fashions from back East, probably cast-offs brought out here by
missionaries or left by army wives or settlers.  The old Indian woman
wore the clothes belted with a silver-decorated leather strap and
ornamented with a necklace of greenish-blue stones that made her
costume exotically stylish.  Will started to stand up, but she motioned
him to remain sitting.  In well-enunciated English, she said, I come to
you today as representative of my people, the Dineh.  We wish to
express our deep appreciation to you for what you did during the flood.
And for how you came to protect Nadleh yesterday from the soldier. Will
was surprised this old woman knew about that incident.  Apparently from
Nadleh's point of view, it wasn't a secret to keep.

All the Dineh are talking about it.  We cannot figure it out, she
continued.

What can't you figure out?  he asked.

You must forgive our confusion and our failure to express our thanks.
We had to have a meeting of our elders to discuss what we believe you
did.

What I did?

We have a word in our language which means to give without expecting
anything in return.  She said a word in the Navajo tongue.  We have
never observed a Hairy Face to act so much like a human being to
endanger his own life to help the Dineh.  Will smiled and rubbed his
freshly shaven jaw, I'm not a Hairy Face.  She remained serious.
Perhaps not.  We consulted with Changing Woman this morning, and she
has already hinted to us that you are different from the other Hairy
Faces.  Changing Woman can tell these things.

We have known good Hairy Faces before, but not since the soldiers in
the blue uniforms came into our homeland.  The Hairy Face man named Kit
Carson had been a friend, but then the soldiers used him to betray us.
She paused solemnly.

Since you have done that which we have not observed at this place
before, we are indebted to you.  What we have is yours.  If you have
needs, let me know.  My name is Dezba.  I am leader of our community.

My name's Will, Will Lee.  What I really need most is for the Indians
to talk to me.  I'm supposed to be your advocate.  But I need to find
out about your needs.  Will jumped up now, in deference.  This was the
chief he'd been wanting to meet.  Please, why don't you sit down?  She
waved the offer away with a firm hand.  Was that custom or an
expression of authority--or of humility?  How is it you speak my
language so well?  I'm sorry to admit I do not know a word of yours.

Now you will learn, she said.  She pointed to the stoop.  You sit down.
Listen.  This is a story you should know.  I will tell you.  She spoke
in clear, firm English.   Some years ago, Dezba began, a Dineh hunting
party found an Englishman named John Blewer in the hills lost and
starving.  They brought him back to our camp.  He told us he had been
hired as a tutor for the sons of a wealthy family.  He was trying to go
to California, but got lost in our mountains.

We welcomed him warmly when we saw he came in peace, Dezba said.  I
decided to place myself, my brother Barboncito, and my sister's child,
Nadleh, under the Englishman's tutorship.  Though Nadleh was still
quite young then, I knew the child would someday be an important person
for the Dineh.  We all knew that an ability to speak English would be a
benefit for our people.

We Dineh wanted to establish good relations with the Hairy Faces, Dezba
continued.  The Dineh knew we would need to be able to communicate with
the strange new people who were coming into our lands.  We took the
English teacher into our outfit and gave him a home and a place of
honor as part of our family.  Other Dineh people came to learn English
from him as well.

John Blewer lived among us for years.  He died one day from a
rattlesnake bite.  We mourned his death and have honored his memory
since.

After the soldiers came, Dezba said, we tried to use the language we'd
learned.  But we did not understand why the Hairy Faces did not do what
they said they would.  Had we misunderstood?  We wished John Blewer had
been with us to explain.  Perhaps you will be able to help us
understand the Hairy Face ways.

I hope so, Will answered.  Will you tell me more about the ways of the
Dineh?

That will require consulting Changing Woman.  I will talk with Nadleh,
who best knows Changing Woman.  Be at the center of our settlement
before the sun sets.  With that, Dezba turned and walked away.  Will
spent the rest of the day in anticipation of meeting this changing
woman, whoever she was.  Why was she called changing ?  What would she
be like?  Apparently, she was also a chief.  Dezba, who called herself
the leader of the community, had to get her advice or approval.  Will
had admired his own mother's strength and capabilities in running the
family household.  But he'd never heard of women taking community
leadership like Dezba and this changing woman.  By whose authority were
these women appointed?  Why does Dezba have to consult the other woman
about me?  And why would Nadleh, this man in woman's clothing, be
closest to the changing woman?  \020Chapter Four

Just before sunset, Will walked to the Dineh settlement.  The Indians
no longer shunned him.  Dezba greeted him and wordlessly directed him
to an earthen structure near the middle of the settlement.  Outside the
low structure, a fire was blazing in a pit.  Three Dineh men were
standing near the fire, clad only in blankets thrown casually over one
shoulder.  Their heads were bowed in reverent silence.  Dezba directed
Will to join the circle.  Also standing in the circle around the fire
were two young men wearing the usual Indian garb of woven shirt and
pants.  Their soot-marked faces and hands showed they were tending the
fire.  Will could see large stones in the fire pit that glowed from the
heat.  When he looked up, he saw that one of those in the circle clad
only in a blanket was Nadleh.  His heart started to pound nervously.
Without the usual women's clothes he had always seen Nadleh wearing,
the Indian looked like a handsome, though delicate, male.  Will
couldn't help his gaze being drawn to Nadleh's naked shoulder.  As Will
joined the circle, Nadleh picked up a blanket and, letting it fall
open, handed it to him.  Will looked around nervously.  He held it for
a moment, then saw that Nadleh also handed a blanket to Dezba.  Upon
receiving it, Dezba turned away from the circle, disrobed, placing her
clothes in a neat pile, and wrapped herself with the blanket.  Will
felt he had no choice, especially not if he truly wanted to gain the
Indians trust and cooperation.  Taking a deep breath, he turned around
and followed Dezba's example.  Sitting by the entrance to the earthen
structure, looking very weak and haggard, was the old man Will helped
rescue from the flood, the one who'd clutched at his chest.  While Will
was wrapping the blanket around himself, Nadleh went over to the old
man and gently helped him stand and remove his blanket.  Then, chanting
in a sing-song rhythm, Nadleh sprinkled the old man's naked body, using
a leafy branch dipped into a bucket of water.  Nadleh helped the old
man to get down on all fours and crawl into the earthen structure.
After the old man, the others in the circle went to Nadleh, one by one,
and dropped their blankets.  Nadleh sprinkled each in the same ritual
way.  Then Dezba stepped up to be sprinkled.  She, too, let her blanket
drop.  Will tried not to show his shock.  He had never seen a woman
naked before, especially in public and with men present.  The Indians
nonchalance and lack of shame made this all seem quite natural.  But it
was certainly a surprise to the genteel Southern Christian.  After a
moment, Nadleh beckoned Will toward the little opening, then motioned
for him to drop his blanket, all the while continuing the prayer-like
incantations.  Will felt some sort of communication exchanged by the
expression in the mysterious Indian's eyes, but he wasn't sure what it
was.  It was certainly recognition.  He hoped it was also gratitude--he
had, after all, saved Nadleh's life.  Perhaps it might even be
friendship.  He dropped the blanket.  As the cool drops of water struck
his bare skin and ran down his chest, he watched Nadleh's eyes peruse
his naked body.  He sensed something reverential and yet also
definitely erotic about the gaze, though Will was only just now
beginning to understand what that meant.  He saw that again Nadleh
looked at his eyes.  He remembered McCarrie's comment and kept his gaze
averted.  Maybe the Indian had never seen eyes the vivid color of Will
s. His own feelings for this strange man-woman were certainly
respectful and reverential, yet, too, also somehow erotic.  He felt a
nervous excitement in his belly.  His eyes--and his desires--were drawn
to this Indian's physical presence: the dark, deep eyes and gauntly
handsome face; the dark, rich olive-brown skin; the form of the
physique covered teasingly by the blanket; the texture of skin and
muscle of Nadleh's bare shoulder.  Will hoped Nadleh was feeling toward
him the same physical fascination he felt for the Indian.
Uncontrollably, he sought out the Indian's eyes.  Nadleh noticed but
turned away and motioned for him to get down on his hands and knees and
follow the others into the low structure.  He worried that he'd
embarrassed Nadleh by his look.  Inside, Will could barely see.  Dezba,
who'd entered just before him, gestured to him to crawl toward her
counterclockwise around a pit dug in the center.  She and the others
were all sitting cross-legged along the perimeter of the round
structure.  Will joined them.  On the other side of the entrance from
him was the little man with the weak heart.  After a moment, Nadleh
entered, first handing in a bucket of water.  Will could see in the dim
light that now Nadleh also had discarded the blanket, as he had
expected--and hoped.  Nadleh made no attempt to hide his maleness.
Apparently Will had been right in thinking that the Indians knew that
this person who dressed as a woman was actually a man.  Aglowing
red-hot rock was thrust through the opening and pushed with a piece of
timber into the pit in the center by one of the young men tending the
fire. This was repeated, perhaps as many as twelve times.  Will lost
count. As the glowing hot rocks accumulated in the center of the
circle, the faces of those sitting around became dully illuminated. 
And the temperature rose steeply.  When the requisite number of rocks
had been rolled in, Nadleh reached out and pulled a leather flap down
over the opening.  Nadleh chanted loudly, then turned to Will and spoke
softly in accented, but clear, English.

This ceremony will cleanse and purify your soul.  Relax.  You are in no
danger.  If the heat becomes too difficult, lean over and breathe near
the ground.  Changing Woman will help you.  Will looked around.  Is the
changing woman here?  The only woman was Dezba and from the way she'd
talked earlier he knew she was not the changing woman.  Could one of
these men be?  Was that what the changing part of the name meant? Could
one of these men change into a woman?  Is that what Nadleh did? Will
was perplexed.  Nadleh threw leaves onto the rocks, saying, Sacred
herbs purify the breath.  The leaves flared quickly and filled the room
with fragrant smoke.  Nadleh repeated this three times, each time with
a different kind of leaf.  At least once the smoke smelled of tobacco,
such as Will had known from his childhood back in Virginia.  Then,
pouring several handfuls of water onto the rocks, Nadleh started in on
another chant.  The rocks sizzled, and the little chamber filled with
steam.  Will's effort to understand what was going on was fruitless.  I
certainly can't understand the words Nadleh is chanting.  I don't
understand why we're breathing burning herbs.  And now I don't know why
we're being scalded with steam.  It's hot, but not unbearable.  Just
relax as Nadleh instructed.  The steam penetrated the pores of Will's
skin, and he began to perspire freely.  He remembered that he'd heard
about Indian sweat lodges.  He'd always imagined them to be something
like the Turkish steam baths advertised by fancy hotels in big cities.
This was not a Turkish bath, but it was the sweat lodge he'd heard
about.  It's nothing like I'd imagined.  Nadleh's chanting continued
for a long while.  Will listened as one would listen to a musical
instrument, not trying to understand rationally in the mind but to feel
emotionally in the body.  After a while, the flap was thrown open, and
the room cooled down a little.  Then soon more rocks were rolled in and
the flap closed again.  More water was thrown onto the rocks.  And
again steam billowed in clouds.  This time, the others all began to
sing in unison.  The rhythm lulled Will into a dream-like state. 
Nadleh had said this ceremony would cleanse and purify me.  What, he
wondered, do I need to be cleansed and purified of?  For months after
his mother's death, Will had been at a loss for what to do with his
life.  He'd been her caretaker for so long.  He'd been despondent and
unable to make any decisions.  He'd felt only an empty place in his
heart that ached from his mama's absence.  And he'd hated living with
his father, who had turned more embittered than ever.  But then
something changed.  Then Michael--beautiful, black-haired Michael with
the long torso and the reddish-brown skin under his bright white
shirt--was kissing him.  Will remembered how Michael gently pushed the
bonnet back off his head, so that his face was no longer hidden.  He
was bracing himself with his hand on a post that held up the hayloft
above.  He slowly released his grip and lowered himself to kneeling on
one knee, his leg between Will's legs.  He kept his eyes locked on
Will's as his face grew closer and closer.  Will craned his neck just a
little and brought his lips to Michael s. They brushed dryly at first. 
The touch of Michael's lips sent pleasure through his whole body.  He
was terrified of what he knew was about to happen.  And yet he wanted
it to happen with all his soul. Michael let his full weight down on top
of him, and they both settled into the brittle, crackily softness of
the hay.  They wrapped their arms around each other and pulled close so
they could feel each other's muscles.  They clutched tighter,
struggling to increase the contact all along their bodies.  They kissed
deeply and passionately.  All Will's consciousness focused itself into
a knot of burning pleasure that tied his mouth to Michael s. Then,
suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a roar erupted in the air above them. 
Will opened his eyes just in time to see his father coming down full
force on Michael's shoulders with a horsewhip.  Reverend Lee's face was
contorted in a bellow of disapproval.  The sharpness of the blow
literally knocked Michael out of his arms.  Will rolled over to protect
Michael, so that his father's second blow fell on his own shoulders. 
And though the whip hurt like hell, he felt an exhilaration in knowing
he'd protected his friend. Now Will bellowed.  He scrambled to his feet
and turned to face his father.  The whip was raised again.  His father
was still going after Michael as if by blaming the mixed-breed Indian,
Reverend Lee could distance himself and his own blood from what he was
seeing.  As the whip came down, Will grabbed his father's arm and
deflected the blow. The man's face was livid.  Sinner, he shouted. 
Then more viciously from between clenched teeth: Abomination.  He
hurled the whip aside and turned on Will, grabbing him by the shoulders
and shaking him violently.  Ignoring his father, Will looked beyond to
see that Michael had gotten to his feet and was now cowering near the
door.  Michael, he shouted.  Get out of here.

I can't leave you like this, Michael said, his voice hoarse with
tears.

Leave this place, you vile reprobate, Reverend Lee lashed out.  Keep
your perverted hands off my son.  Will shouted, I'll be all right.
Reverend Lee spat out, You are not all right, as though responding to a
different meaning for his words.  You are a god-forsaken sinner who
deserves With a pain that he realized only after the finality of his
words sank in, Will called out, Michael, save yourself.  Get away from
here and don't come back.

But, Will, Michael stammered helplessly, you were going to come with me
to Norfolk.

I can t, god damn it.  Reverend Lee released his clawlike grip on
Will's shoulders, drew back his hand, and slapped him hard across the
face. Michael turned and, looking back over his shoulder, ran out the
door. In a few seconds, the hoofbeats of his horse echoed in the hollow
barn.

Good riddance, the old man whispered.

You don't know.  You just don't know, Will said, pulling away from his
father before another slap could be delivered.  The sound of water
sizzling on hot rocks of the sweat lodge interrupted Will's
recollections.  Nadleh spoke in Dineh, then turned to Will and
explained in English, Each person will now give a prayer to our main
spirit, Changing Woman.  Your prayer can be a prayer of thankfulness or
wishfulness, for yourself or for others.  So Changing Woman is not a
person, after all!  I'm sure glad I never asked any stupid questions
about who the changing woman was.  The old man sitting next to Nadleh
chanted a prayer in Dineh.  When he finished, Nadleh spoke something in
answer, and then everybody said a short phrase in unison.  Nadleh threw
more herbs onto the rocks and then another splash of water.  The heat
was intense.  Am I going to faint?  Remembering Nadleh's earlier
instructions, he leaned down and breathed the air near the ground.  It
was much cooler.  His knee inadvertantly touched Nadleh's leg.  Nadleh
did not flinch or move away, and Will let his knee stay.  He wasn't
sure if this was a sign of Nadleh's acceptance of him or merely an
indication of a different attitude among the Dineh about body contact.
Nonetheless, he was grateful to the Indian spiritual leader for
allowing this touch.  When it came to Dezba's turn, she prayed first in
Dineh and then briefly, for Will's benefit, in English.  I pray that
the cleansing power of the sweat lodge ceremony make this young man
strong and faithful to the ways of our ancestors.  He has come among us
and shown himself more like one of your own people, Changing Woman,
than like his.  We welcome his good will.  And we are grateful to him
for helping us in the flood.  We are thankful to you and to all nature
for all that happens to us, pleasant and unpleasant.  Out of the
devastation of the flood, this young man has revealed himself as our
friend.  It amazed Will that these people saw such goodness in him. 
His father had taught him only to see the badness.  As the other
Indians made their prayers in Dineh, Will thought back to all the pain
and terror he'd experienced from his father's religion.  For the next
week after Reverend Lee had caught him and Michael, not a word was
spoken in the Lee house.  Will rose early every morning and went to
work before dawn.  His garden was bursting with life; he could spend
the day weeding, tilling and watering--and, above all else, avoiding
his father.  Mid-morning, Reverend Lee took the buggy into town.  He
always walked around the barn the long way along the edge of the
five-acre garden to get the mule.  Will thought it was obvious Reverend
Lee was checking to see if he were out there working.  He wondered if
his father suspected he might have run off in the night or if he were
making sure he was seen leaving so he would run off during the day.  He
didn't know what to do.  He thought seriously about leaving.  Maybe
that's what my father really wants me to do.  It would save us both the
embarrassment of having to finally face each other.  But where would I
go?  How would I support myself?  The money I've stashed away won't
last long.  I'd have to get a job.  What could I do?  He kept hoping
that Michael would show up and tell him.  But then he'd remember that
he clearly told Michael not to come back.  What had happened to his
friend?  He wanted to go over to the Halyerd place to see if he could
find him, but he was afraid of being seen by Michael's parents.  Mr.
and Mrs.  Halyerd had always been friendly to him, but maybe now they
would have changed their minds.  Had his father told them what he had
seen?  Or had he kept the secret to himself?  If the latter were so, it
would not have been to protect Will, but to protect the preacher from
any suggestion he'd failed to bring the boy up right.  Or had he told
everybody in the parish to assure them all he had no soft spots for
sinners even in his own family?  In the evenings, as was his duty, Will
prepared supper.  He served his father in the dining room.  Neither
said a word.  Will ate his meal in the kitchen.  He'd become like a
slave; he felt what it must have been like for old Maudie to have to
eat by herself in back.  Thinking of himself like Maudie, he'd realized
the ordeals she and her two sons, Calvin and Japhet, had endured under
Reverend Lee's ownership.  Their father, Zekial, had died before Will
was born.  An intoxicated brawl had broke out among the stable-hands
back behind the church one hot summer night after a parish supper. When
Reverend Lee, who was then just an assistant pastor, tried to break up
the fight, his own slave Zekial punched another slave who'd been cowed
by Lee's intervention, and knocked him into a coma.  When the slave,
who belonged to one of the leading parishioners, died two days later,
Reverend Lee, in his stern and juridical way, insisted Zekial be
prosecuted for murder.  During the trial, he appealed to the court for
the penalty of death in keeping with the Biblical injunction an eye for
an eye.  Reverend Lee demonstrated his personal and professional
righteousness by offering his own property for sacrifice to the
intransigence of the written Word.  Let the slave's blood be poured out
onto my fields, he proclaimed rhetorically, as a sign of propitiation
to God's bitter justice.  It was not long after that that Reverend Lee
was elevated to full pastor ship As the prayers in the sweat lodge rose
up to Changing Woman, like the smoke from the herbs burning on the hot
rocks, Will realized Zechiel's death was surely one of the things he
needed to be cleansed of.  After supper each evening, Reverend Lee had
retired religiously to the desk in the front room where he sat to write
his sermons.  Lee usually planned out and drafted his sermons in a
couple of hours on Saturday morning.  But that week he sat at the desk,
under the light of a kerosene lamp, night after night. He was writing
and rewriting and poring through his theological texts and studying his
Bible every evening even after his son went to bed. Will decided the
only way to survive was to ignore the old man, stick to his routine and
not panic.  He didn't know what he'd do if he panicked.  He got up in
the morning, did his work, fed and bathed himself, and went to bed at
night just like always.  And so on Sunday morning, as always, he got
ready to go to church.  He figured there was a good chance Michael
would be there, and they could at least see that each other was all
right.  Will set out on foot and took the short cut across the meadow
and over the creek, reversing the route he'd come last week on
horseback with Michael.  It was a long walk; it took him an extra hour.
But he didn't want to ride in with his father in the buggy.  And there
was always the chance he'd run into Michael riding in on his horse to
the Sunday service.  As he walked along through the spring morning, he
occasionally stopped to look at wildflowers or to listen to the birds
in the trees up above.  He kept reminding himself to treat this Sunday
just like every Sunday.  But between reminders, he worried what
Reverend Lee had thought when he saw he wasn't there to ride in with
him.  Will he be surprised when I show up at the service? And if
Michael is there, what am I going to do?  Should I take my seat beside
him as usual?  Will decided he'd sit elsewhere so as not to offend his
father openly.  But, surely, he thought, that will start the tongues
wagging.  Well, I'll arrive a little late, and that'll be an excuse to
take one of the last open seats.  Then it won't look like I
intentionally avoided the usual place next to my friend.  Will cursed
himself for worrying so much about what other people would think.  He'd
considered not attending the service at all, but he was certain that
would have been noticed.  And then what will people think?  He scolded
himself for always going along with whatever they wanted.  What about
what he wanted?  As Will entered the tall portal of the church house he
saw Michael wasn't in the usual seat.  He stood at the rear of the long
narrow room.  There were two ranks of pews on either side of a center
aisle.  His father was sitting in his high-backed wooden chair behind
the pulpit.  In a kind of daze, Will scanned the room.  He knew he'd
recognize Michael's long black hair.  Up and down, back and forth he
looked.  His friend was nowhere to be seen.  Then he began to feel
relieved that he wasn't there.  At least Michael had the strength of
character to take action to protect himself.  That's something he knew
he needed to learn from his friend.  If you don't like it, Michael used
to say, escape.  There's a big wide world out there that I'm just a
waitin to see.  I doubt Michael is hiding out somewhere.  He's left
town.  I know it.  Will's thoughts were interrupted by whispers in the
pew next to him.  Why do you suppose that Halyerd boy just up and
disappeared so sudden last Sunday night?  He realized the whispers were
meant for him to hear.  Hell, they might as well have been meant for
the whole congregation to hear.

I dunno, but I hear tell it had something to do with Reverend Lee's
son.

Well, I'm not surprised, a third voice rejoined in the same loud
whispers, the way those two always stayed to their selves so
strange-like

You saw how they were actin after church last week.

You know, the elders have been meetin with the preacher

Now what could they be planning?  Will started to tremble.  He looked
around furtively.  As he'd been scanning for Michael, he'd walked
halfway up the center aisle.  And now every eye in the church was on
him.  His father stood up and stepped to the pulpit.  He gazed at his
son sternly.  Will pushed his way into the nearest pew and sat down. He
leaned over and looked at the floor and wished the service would just
get underway.

Today, Reverend Lee intoned in his most sepulcral voice, we are goin to
talk about sin.  He said the last word with a kind of snap, like the
sound a fisherman hears when he jerks the line and hooks the poor fish
that had been nibbling carefree on the bait.  Without even hearing the
next words of his father's sermon, Will knew he'd been caught.  Today,
Christian brethern, I take as my text the Book of Genesis, the
nineteenth chapter, from the first verse down to the twenty-ninth.
Reverend Lee looked down at his Bible, then proclaimed, In verse
twenty-four, God says He rained down on Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone
and fire out of heaven.  He slammed the Bible shut with a bang.  And
just why did the Lord rain down brimstone and fire out of heaven?  Will
could hear the glee in his father's voice as he said the words
brimstone and fire.  Reverend Lee then told about the angels coming to
the city and about Lot offering his daughters to the men of Sodom.  His
voice rising and falling dramatically, he told about how the men wanted
nothing to do with Lot's daughters.  And then the Lord God rained down
His fires of destruction on the city of Sodom.  And all because the
people of that wicked place practiced this unspeakable evil evil so
filthy we cannot even mention its nature, what with the children
present here.  He emphasized the word children.  evil that deserves the
penalty of stonin , the Holy Scriptures say.  This is wickedness so
vile it is not fit to be named among Christians.  But you all know what
I am talkin about Whenever Will looked up, his father was staring right
at him.  Every minute got worse.  Finally, his father began to describe
how he had personally come upon two supposedly Christian boys Will
could stand it no more.  He stood up, stepped out of the pew, turned
around, and walked out of the church house  Every eye was on him as he
slowly strode down the aisle.  It seemed as if he were never going to
get out of the church.  And all the while, his father was continuing
the malediction.  His steps were uneven, but he managed to get to the
back of the building and out the doors.  He carefully closed the doors
behind him.  He walked over to his father's buggy and climbed up to the
seat.  He could still hear his father preaching, though now the sounds
were muffled.  This is it, he thought.  I can't go back.  I can't go
on.  The best solution would be to end it all right here--before
somebody else does.  Will had heard about the Ku Klux Klan which had
formed the previous year and had spread like wildfire through the
Reconstruction South.  He knew they rode out at night dressed like the
ghosts of Confederate war dead.  They burned crosses and strung up the
freedmen they thought were acting too independent or disrespectful.  He
wondered if they just might come to string him up for having defiled
the uniform of the Confederacy or some such charge that his father was
conjuring up there in the church house

I might as well be dead, Will said aloud as he reached down into the
storage compartment of the buggy and fished out a rope.  He fashioned a
noose at one end of it.  He observed that a nearby tree limb extended
out at about the right height.  He imagined how the congregation would
react when they came out of the church and found he'd hanged himself
there, right in front of their eyes.  How am I going to do this alone?
he wondered.  If only Michael were here to help me string up the rope.
Oh, Michael For the first time, Will stopped thinking about himself and
thought about how Michael would have handled all this.  He wouldn't
have let those self-righteous bastards get to him.  He wouldn't punish
himself.  He would leave.  Hell, he did leave.  Will looked at the
noose in his hands.  What has gotten into me?  He suddenly cast aside
the rope with its nasty knot.  It lay uncoiled on the grass.  Let em
find that instead of me, he thought, and cracked the whip and pointed
the mule in the direction of town.  As the animal circled around in
front of the church and headed down the lane, Will took one final look
at the white church building.  Remembering the slave Zekial's
legalistic ally prescribed execution, he realized his father and the
church elders were probably actually planning to stone him to death at
the end of the service.  Maybe that's crazy, but then he whipped the
mule to move on faster.

Chapter Five

Now it is your turn, Nadleh said to Will.  Each of the Indians in the
sweat lodge had uttered a prayer.  Speak to Changing Woman.  Say
whatever is in your heart.  Changing Woman will understand your
language.  Will took a deep breath and then began to speak: I have come
here with such hopefulness in my heart, but all I can see is misery and
sorrow.  I pray the Dineh will have better lives in the future, and
your people will find happiness.  For myself, I ask that Changing Woman
help me find my purpose in life.  As he completed his prayer, he added,
as if by reflex, I ask all this in Jesus name.  Amen.  As he heard the
others responding in Dineh, he realize what he'd said.  He hoped
Changing Woman wouldn't mind.  And he hoped his prayers to Changing
Woman would be more effective than those prayers he'd said to Jesus in
years gone by.  The others began a rhythmic chant.  Will could feel the
beat and began to hum, grunt and groan softly in sync with the pattern.
The vibrations filled his chest and echoed inside his skull.  He felt
very lightheaded now, no longer close to fainting but to being swept
away with joy.  He was surprised to see that the sweat lodge didn't
seem as dark as before.  The whole room was becoming illuminated with a
soft light, like moonlight on a clear night, and it seemed to come
right out of the top of his own head.  He was still very hot, but no
longer uncomfortable.  He, indeed, felt himself cleansed and purified.
He was amazed to see that here he was participating in a religious
ritual that was being led by a man who usually dressed as a woman,
chanting strange sounds, sitting naked in total darkness, and finding
that from inside his mind a light was burning.  In its radiance, which
was both a soft glow in the darkness and an interior illumination in
his mind, Will saw that Christianity was just one set of stories about
something that transcended all stories.  Its God, grown old and tired
through centuries of religious warfare, seemed to have become a
capricious, jealous, vengeful deity obsessed with making rules and
hurling wrath and condemnation on helpless human beings--a heavenly
version of Will's own father.  Changing Woman might make a much better
deity.  If she were a woman, she might understand people's frailties
and be more likely to be nurturing than condemning.  If she herself
were changing, she might be much more likely to adjust her expectations
to people's real situations which were always changing.  Nadleh was
singing.  And somehow Will understood Nadleh was singing in his behalf.
The music filled him and uplifted him; the heat carried him up and
exalted him.  He lost all sense of time.  He thought for a while that
his mother was there with him.  It was so good to feel nurtured by her
presence, a presence that made itself known to him through the heat of
the sweat lodge.  Then he decided the presence was not his mother, but
was rather Changing Woman.  Suddenly, the flap was thrown open, and
Nadleh clasped him on the shoulder and instructed him to crawl out.  It
was dark now.  The fire outside had burned down to glowing embers.  The
sky was brilliant with stars.  The moon rode high and bright above.
Will felt alive in a way he had never experienced before.  Everything,
even the desolation of the desert, seemed immensely beautiful.  He
wondered what had happened to him there in the sweat lodge.  Maybe I
passed out.  But he didn't really think so.  I think, instead, that I
passed beyond Out in the cool night air now, the little group wrapped
themselves with their blankets.  Together they made their way down to
the creek and washed.  At Dezba's instruction, Will carried his clothes
down to the creek.  After splashing in the shallow, slowly flowing
water, he dried himself with the blanket and dressed quickly.  Few
words were exchanged.  But, in a rather ceremonial way, after he had
dressed, Nadleh took him by the shoulders.  In spite of the darkness,
he could see into Nadleh's eyes.  And what he thought he saw was
respect.  Then, while Will and Dezba remained sitting on rocks down
near the creek, Nadleh and the others carried the old man back to the
camp.

Now that you have been purified by the sweat ceremony, Dezba told him,
we may talk about what is in our hearts.  Changing Woman hears the
voices of the purified more clearly.  That is why Nadleh did the sweat
this evening, so she will be prepared for the healing ceremony tonight
for those who were hurt in the flood.  It perplexed him that Dezba used
a feminine pronoun to refer to Nadleh.  Hadn't she just seen he was
male?  Well, there was apparently more to this than the form of
Nadleh's body or the clothes that body was dressed in.  Does it have
something to do with how Nadleh, uh, makes love?  Will was thrilled and
embarrassed by that thought.

Do you mean the little man who was sitting across from me in the sweat
lodge?  he asked, leaving his questions about Nadleh for another
time.

His name is Barboncito.  He is my brother.  And, yes, for him and for
Anrelina, my mother's sister.  She is too weak even for the sweat
ceremony.  Both their hearts are strained.

From being stranded in the tree during the flood?

Not only because of the flood, but because of all the suffering that
has happened to our people here.  I don't know if their hearts can
continue to beat Dezba said solemnly.  It is particularly important for
Barboncito to live.  He is our spokesman with the Hairy Faces.  They
call him the chief of the Dineh.  Of course, we have no such thing,
only a person in each outfit who is chosen to keep harmony and resolve
disputes.  That is my role.

The Hairy Faces do not respect women.  They would never accept me as
the representative for my people.  That is why Barboncito and the other
men must speak for us.  They should not give up asking the Hairy Faces
to let us return to our homeland.  Changing Woman has repeatedly given
us that message, and again she communicated this to me in the sweat
tonight.  Dezba took a long breath.  She looked up at the sky.  Will
could just make out her face dimly illuminated by the moonlight.  He
could see pain in her expression.

Though it was seven winters ago, I remember it as if it were yesterday.
We were then living in our homeland.  Dezba hesitated.  She looked over
her shoulder toward the northwest.  The Mexicans raided our settlement
and stole ten of our best horses.  Segundo, our bravest young man, was
so mad he planned a counter raid

Segundo was Nadleh's husband.  Both Nadleh and I told him to be
cautious.  We told him the Hairy Faces would be angered by such a
counter raid  But he went ahead with his plan.  He and some other young
Dineh men rode out toward the town of the Mexicans.  They had painted
themselves for war in the tradition of our people.  On the way, they
were stopped by Hairy Face soldiers.  Will wanted to know how Segundo
could have been Nadleh's husband.  But instead he asked, Were you
friendly with the Hairy Faces?

When the Hairy Faces first came into our homeland, about fifteen
winters before the time I am telling you about, the Dineh welcomed
them.  We believed they were allies because they, too, fought with the
Mexicans.

We had been suffering from Mexican raids for as far back as any of our
families could remember.  Usually they just caught a horse or two, and
in response we would raid a Mexican village and steal food or supplies.
It was not good, but it seemed to balance out.  But then the Mexicans
began to come with guns.  All we had were spears and arrows.  And they
didn't just steal horses.  Sometimes they stole our children to sell as
slaves.  This angered and saddened our families very much.   I
understand, Will said softly.

When the Hairy Faces arrived, all we wanted with them was peaceable
trade.  We had no quarrel with the Great Father in Washington.  This is
what the Hairy Faces said the Great Father wanted also, when we put our
marks to the Hairy Faces treaty.  That treaty was supposed to mean
peace.  The Great Father promised to stop the raiding.

But the Hairy Faces signed another treaty with the Mexicans.  They
called these lands New Mexico--as though those people were natives to
this land.  But this land had been the home of our ancestors long
before there were any New Mexicans.

The Hairy Faces said we were lower than these people.  They called us
Indians, a word we had never heard before.  We are Dineh, not like the
others living around us.  The Hopi, the Zuni, the Utes, the Comanches,
and the Mexicans are all different from us.  Our history is not like
theirs, ever since we came from the other world into this world.  We
are not lower than any people.  Will could hear the undertone of anger
and dismay in Dezba's voice.

Hairy Face settlers moved into the Mexican towns around Santa Fe.  They
even intermarried with the Mexicans.  Only a few intermarried with the
Dineh, though sometimes they forced themselves on Dineh women.  Segundo
was born of a Dineh woman who had been treated so by a Hairy Face
trader.  That was partly why Segundo was so mad about the way our
people were treated.

Since the soldiers would not stop the raiding as they had promised, we
asked them to give us guns so we could protect ourselves and our herds.
But they would not.  They only repeated their promises.  They built
Fort Defiance on the border of our homeland, saying it was to protect
us.  But nothing changed.  The New Mexicans still stole our horses and
goats and enslaved our children.

Segundo had shown himself to be very brave.  When he went into the
desert to seek a vision for his life, he was away for many days.  We
all feared he had tested his bravery against something too strong for
him and had been killed.  Nadleh was especially sorrowful.  She was
younger than Segundo, but it was known from when she was very small
that she was special to Changing Woman.  She had already found her own
vision.  She had been hoping that Segundo would return to be her
husband and that their visions would be one.

He did return finally.  He said he had fought with a great cat and been
victorious.  He believed the cat represented the invaders who were
threatening our lands.  He met Turquoise Boy in a vision and learned he
was chosen to safeguard the Dineh's homeland.  That is why he became
angry every time there was a raid by the New Mexicans.

And Nadleh was, uh, involved?  Will managed to ask.

Oh, yes.  Nadleh has special powers from the spirit world.  She was
given to us by Changing Woman to make peace in our families, to use her
powers to help husbands and wives resolve differences and heal our
people's illness and unhappiness.

Nadleh and Segundo believed Segundo's vision had showed that peace and
healing would only come to the Dineh if our homelands were secure. They
joined together to help lead our people toward that goal.  He still
wanted to know what kind of marriage Segundo and Nadleh could have had.
Weren't they both males?

Segundo was very angry when the ten horses were stolen and did not want
to give in to the Hairy Face soldiers who stopped his counter raid  But
they had more power than he and his warriors because they had guns.

Segundo argued with the soldiers.  He told them the Dineh would be safe
only when we had our own guns.  The head soldier tried to settle
Segundo and his men down by making a wager.  He proposed a bet of ten
guns put up by the soldiers against twenty horses put up by us.  The
winner of the bet would be decided by a horse race.  Segundo wanted the
guns so much he agreed.

Nadleh tried to persuade him not to do this, saying that the Hairy
Faces never kept their promises.  But Segundo did not want to pass up
the chance to get guns.  And he was sure he could ride faster than any
Hairy Face.

A few days later, we all traveled to Fort Defiance to watch this race.
My people love to gamble.  We thought this was a good idea.  We'd
engage in a race with the Hairy Faces, and this would be fun for both
sides.  Everyone loves to watch a horse race.  We didn't hate the Hairy
Faces.  We just wanted them to keep their promises of stopping the
raiding, or else to stay out of our way.

Everyone was excited as Segundo and a soldier prepared their horses. We
brought our families, and little children were playing all around.
There was much betting going on between Dineh and Hairy Faces.  Some of
the Hairy Faces had brought liquor, and people were enjoying drinking
together.  We were hopeful.  We knew what a good rider Segundo was.
Only Nadleh was worried.  At that time, I knew Nadleh was special, but
only since then have I come to understand how accurately Nadleh can
foresee future events.

The Hairy Face officer explained the rules of the race.  Rules are
something the Hairy Faces have a lot of, probably because they so often
break them.  The officer pointed to a Hairy Face standing on a small
ridge in the distance.  Each rider was to race to that man, grab a
kerchief from him, and then race back.  The first one to cross the
finish line next to us would be the winner.

I saw this soldier--you know who I mean--the one that watches our
outfit even now.

Sergeant Peak?  Will offered.  Somehow he was not surprised.

Yes.  I saw this Sergeant Peak standing by Segundo's horse.  When I
looked at him, he walked away quickly.

People started cheering as Segundo and the Hairy Face rider got on
their horses.  The crowd became silent as they stood at the starting
line.  The officer raised his pistol.  He fired into the air.  And the
horses started to run.

We were excited to see Segundo take the lead early.  He was clearly the
better rider.  We cheered for him as he rode toward the ridge.  The
soldiers were silent.  But then, just as Segundo was reining in his
horse to grab the kerchief, the rein broke.  His horse turned, and he
was almost thrown off.

Then the Hairy Faces started to cheer.  We were silent.  Their rider
reached the man on the ridge, grabbed the kerchief, and headed back. As
he crossed the finish line, the Hairy Faces crowded around him.  The
officer proclaimed him the winner.

By that time, the soldiers were all drinking their whiskey.  Some of
them carried the rider on their shoulders around the field in triumph.
Others started grabbing the sheepskins and blankets we had placed as
additional bets.  Meanwhile Segundo returned on his horse.  As he
climbed down, we all ran to him.  He showed us where the rein had
broken.  There were marks that showed it had been cut with a knife.

Segundo went to the officer and pointed to the knife marks on the rein
and demanded a rematch.  But the officer was too busy claiming the
horses we had put up as his prize.  I shouted that I saw the Hairy Face
standing next to Segundo's horse just before the race.  I pointed at
Sergeant Peak.  He was probably the one who cut the rein.

Peak then asked, How do I know you didn't cut it?   The officer
interrupted.  He saluted Peak, then called him to attention.  With
military formality, he asked if he had cut the rein.  Peak said, No
sir.  The officer said, I have to trust a man I know under my own
command before I trust an Indian squaw I don't know.  He then declared
the race to have been won by the soldiers fair and square.  He said it
was too bad Segundo did not check his gear before the race.  A deal is
a deal, he said.

He then held out his hand for Segundo to give him the reins to his own
horse.  That would make the last one they would claim as their prize.
Segundo was so angry he could not even move.  Nadleh was standing
beside him, and, with a look of disgust, she took the broken rein from
Segundo's hand and put it in the hand of the Hairy Face officer.

Segundo started to lunge forward in anger, but Nadleh stopped him.  The
officer climbed up on Segundo's horse, and he and the other soldiers
rode back into the fort on our horses.  They were laughing.  This was
our first bitter taste of Hairy Face rules.  Dezba shook her head,
seething with anger.  She gazed up at the distant sky.  Will waited
patiently for her to resume her story.

Segundo could take no more, she continued.  What are we going to do? he
yelled.  Will the Dineh let them steal our horses?  One of the young
men, my nephew, the son of one of my sisters, who'd been part of
Segundo's original war party, let out a cry and ran toward the fort.
Nadleh called for him to come back, but Nephew paid no attention.  His
action surprised all of us.

By the time Nephew got to the fort, the soldiers had closed the front
gate.  Nephew started pounding on the gate, yelling for the Hairy Faces
to give us a rematch.  He called them devils.  He said to the Hairy
Faces, Leave our country.  You are no longer our allies.  As Nephew
beat on the gate with his fists, I saw Peak look over the top of the
wall.  He aimed his gun and fired.  Nephew fell dead.

Oh, God, no, Will exclaimed.

We were so shocked we just stood there in silence.  Then more soldiers
came to the wall of the fort.  They aimed their rifles at us.  Peak
ordered them to fire.  The guns exploded in a cloud of smoke.

I saw several children hit.  Then I felt a great pain in my arm and saw
blood pouring from my elbow.  I remember a lot of screaming as the
wounded fell.  I could hear the officer inside the fort yelling to his
men to stop their fire.

Then I saw Nadleh kneeling on the ground holding Segundo.  I came over
and saw that a bloody wound covered Segundo's chest.  I sank to my
knees next to Nadleh who was crying over her fallen husband.  Segundo
opened his eyes and looked up at Nadleh.  Dezba's voice was trembling
with emotion.

The Dineh homeland must be kept safe, Segundo said.  Nadleh promised
she would do as he said.  Segundo's eyes were starting to close, but he
kept trying to speak.  Watch for me.  Changing Woman will tell you, he
said.  My spirit will come back to you.

As long as I live, I'll never forget Nadleh's expression as she tried
to keep the spirit from leaving him.  Then Segundo's eyes closed, and
his spirit went to the other world.  Nadleh collapsed, her tears mixing
with Segundo's blood.  Will felt a surge of anger at the injustice the
old woman described.

By this time, I had realized my own injury was just a flesh wound, but
it still kept me from pulling Nadleh away.  I saw the danger we were
all in.  We were unarmed, but none of us knew if these crazy Hairy
Faces would start firing again.  They were unpredictable.

Come on, I told Nadleh.  Get up!  Nadleh said she could not leave
Segundo.  He's dead, Nadleh, I said.  Help the living, the wounded
children.  Come on, hurry.  No time now for sorrow.  Nadleh was still
in shock, but she grabbed a wounded child.  All of us struggled to get
away, leaving the dead where they fell.

We dragged ourselves to safety over the ridge.  Nadleh said with hatred
in her eyes, I promise never to rest until Segundo's spirit returns.
Dezba stopped.  She seemed to be looking around as though for comfort.
Will felt so helpless.  What can I do about the wrong my people
wrought?  And are the Indians going to blame me?  I hope not.  Will
reached out and laid his hand on Dezba's arm.

After that day, she went on, her voice softening in response to Will's
gesture of comfort, there was no more peace between the Dineh and the
Hairy Faces.  We had a council of all the Dineh outfits.  People came
from all parts of our country.  I had never seen so many Dineh in one
place.  We decided anyone who would kill children was not a human
being.  We decided we must push the Hairy Faces out of our homeland.

Nadleh was a leader in this decision.  She gathered all the Two-Spirit
Persons together and did a ritual.  To make her point about the need
for action, she put aside her women's clothes and began to dress as a
man.  She took up the ways of a warrior, even though it is not her true
nature.  And she made a solemn vow to Changing Woman that she would not
make love again until Segundo returned to her.

That, I think, was a foolish promise.  She punished herself for the
evil acts of the Hairy Faces.  But it turned all her energy and powers
to the struggle.  Nadleh fought the Hairy Faces bravely for the next
two years.  It is a wonder she was not killed.  So many of our young
men died.  It is only by the protection of Changing Woman that Nadleh
lived.

And even Changing Woman was not powerful enough to fight all the
soldiers.  Our bows and arrows were no match against the Hairy Faces
guns.  Even when we killed some of them, they always had more to
replace them.  There seem to be as many of them as there are rocks on
the desert.

When they attacked our settlements, we had no choice but to run away.
What really hurt us was the soldiers campaign to destroy our food
supplies.  They would rush into our settlements and burn our hogans and
the food we had stored up.  When winter came, we had nothing to eat and
no place to live in.  We were afraid even to build a fire to keep warm
for fear of bringing on more attacks.  We had to surrender or we would
starve

Chapter Six

Will didn't know how to respond to Dezba's pain.  Keeping his hand on
her arm, he stared up into the night sky.  The moon now looked cold and
the stars detached.  He had read about Kit Carson's famous scorched
earth campaign against the Navajos.  That had been some four years ago
in 1863.  It was just a brief sideline to the battles then being fought
in the war back East from Fredericksburg to Gettysburg.  But Carson's
thoroughness helped to provide an example for similar practices that
Union General Philip Sheridan launched a year later against the
Shenandoah Valley, just over the mountains from Will's home.  He, at
least briefly, had been part of the Confederate Army that was trying to
defend his state--his homeland--against the United States Army, just as
Nadeh had done in New Mexico Territory.  Though his heart had never
been in it, the way Nadleh's was, as a Virginian and one who had seen
firsthand the kind of destruction total war brings about, he could
understand the loss he'd heard in Dezba's voice.  Will questioned what
he'd heard about the Indians.  He'd read that hostilities broke out
between the Navajo and the Army at Fort Defiance, but he'd never heard
how the hostilities started or who started them.  He'd never heard
about the horse race massacre.  That made him wonder what other parts
of the story he--and American society--had never heard.  From what
Dezba told him, it looked as if the Indians had their side of the story
to tell.  She couldn't have made all this up.  She was forthright and
factual in her manner.  All his intuitions told him she was speaking
the truth.  He thought it especially ironic that this fort to which
he'd been assigned had the same name as that of the strong anti-slavery
leader, Charles Sumner of Massachusetts.  He wondered what Senator
Sumner would think of slave raids going on, protected by Union
soldiers, within sight of his namesake.  Indeed, it seemed more and
more as if the fort were, in fact, a prison the real purpose of which
was to keep the Dineh people enslaved.

Changing Woman, I believe, has told us you are worthy, Will Lee, Dezba
said, Now you are ready to know more.  For the first time, Dezba spoke
his name.  Will felt a tremor in his soul as though the old Indian
woman had recognized his true self--the true self he himself was only
just discovering.  I would like that very much, he answered sincerely.
Will remembered that that missionary, Pastor Sheldon, whom he'd met at
Mister McDonald's office in Washington, D.C. had told him the Navajos
worshipped a female deity.  That was Changing Woman, he realized.  Now,
especially in the magical spell that had settled on him in the sweat
lodge, the idea that the Creator was a woman made absolute sense. Women
bear babies.  How did the notion ever develop that the Creator God was
a man?  Men don't give birth.

Help me up, Will Lee.  We are going to go to the medicine lodge for the
healing circle.  Will stood up and held out his arm to assist Dezba.
For the first time, she seemed old to him.  He wanted to ask Dezba
about Nadleh.  He wanted to know how it was that the Dineh had such
respect for this man who dressed like a woman and who had another man
for a husband.  But he was hesitant to ask questions of so personal a
nature. He'd was glad he hadn't said anything stupid about Changing
Woman. Maybe this was just as simple.  I'm just missing a simple piece
to understand it all.  They walked slowly back toward the big hogan in
the center of the settlement, climbing up the bank of the river where
two days ago the flood waters had splashed so fiercely.

What did Nadleh do after the surrender?  Will asked.

Nadleh was never the same after that.  As long as she was fighting, it
was as though her grief was put aside.  When we talked of surrender to
the Hairy Faces, she did not want to give up.  I think she would have
fought till all the warriors were killed.  But the hunger of the
children convinced her.

Before we surrendered and walked here to the fort, Nadleh spoke with
Changing Woman.  She took off the men's clothing.  From that time until
now, she has always dressed as a woman.  You see she still wears only
the traditional woven clothes of the Dineh.  I've come to like these
clothes the missionaries gave us, Dezba said as an aside as she
flounced her satin dress.  When we were made to come here, we had
nothing.  Our proud people had to take charity from our enemies.  But
these dresses, they are cool here in the desert.  Nadleh will not put
on the Hairy Face fabrics.

Until you came here, none of the Hairy Faces knew that this woman had
been our bravest warrior.  She was just as brave as Segundo had been.

Oh, when Segundo was alive, they were so happy together.  But since his
death, Nadleh's life has been nothing but sorrow.  The people are in
such need of healing.  And we are so far from our homelands.  Even
Changing Woman's powers are weak here.  Nadleh has had no happiness. 
As he and Dezba approached the settlement, Will could see several Dineh
clustered near the door to the big hogan and light coming from inside.
The Dineh welcome you to the medicine lodge, the old woman said
formally.  Nadleh has been preparing the sand painting throughout the
day.  As Dezba led him inside, Nadleh looked up but showed no
expression at all.  The tall thin Indian was concentrating on a large
colorful design on the floor.  Sitting in a circle around the design
were Barboncito and the woman Dezba had said was her Aunt Anrelina
along with several other Dineh.  Anrelina looked very frail.  Will
wondered how she'd survived the flash flood  She didn't appear to have
the strength to hold herself up, much less to hold onto a tree in
raging waters.  He wondered how any of the Dineh survived the hardships
they'd suffered.  They must possess a deep inner strength.  Maybe I can
help them mobilize that strength to get back to their homelands.  And
he remembered what Dezba said were Segundo's dying words. 
Tallow-burning lamps illuminated the inside of the hogan.  The area in
the middle of the round-shaped room had been smoothed and covered with
clean white sand.  Atop that white sand a design had been drawn.  Off
to the side, near where Nadleh knelt, he could see several piles of
sand or powder in various different colors.  Will followed Dezba to a
place in the circle and sat down beside her.  He looked at the watch he
carried in his pocket.  It was almost midnight.  He was surprised.  The
time had gone by so fast--or had it?  He wondered how long they'd been
in the sweat lodge or how long he'd been listening to Dezba's
disturbing account of the beginnings of the Navajo war.  He wasn't at
all tired in spite of the hour; in fact, he felt energized.  He was
beginning to understand what was really at stake in this job of his. 
He watched intrigued as Nadleh took a handful of one of the colored
powders and made a fist, then expertly allowed a trickle of the grains
to pour through the space between thumb and fist.  Bright yellow color
flowed out from Nadleh's hand just as an artist would lay out paint
with a brush.  The design showed a stylized human figure.  Its head was
a rectangle of reddish sand with black features drawn in: eyes, nose,
and mouth.  Atop the head was a colorful headdress formed of geometric
feathers.  Long dangling earrings hung down on either side of the face.
The figure had a long thin body of blue sand.  Just below the head,
little arms came off the body; in each hand were something that looked
like sticks or, probably, arrows.  Will couldn't be sure.  The ribbon
of blue that represented the body came straight down from the head and
then curled all the way around to encircle the face and headdress.  At
the end of the ribbon was drawn a short skirt in ocher sand and below
that little suggestions of legs and feet.  The whole design was very
complex.  It must have taken enormous concentration.  As Will watched,
Nadleh drew a perfectly round circle in yellow to enclose the whole
design.  He was amazed to watch that circle flow so precisely out of
Nadleh's hand.

Now she is ready to begin the healing, Dezba said softly to Will.  Will
had been avoiding thinking in pronouns in reference to Nadleh.  To him,
in spite of the clothes, Nadleh was a male.  Once he had seen Nadleh's
body, he could not help but think of the Indian as he.  But he
perceived there was something deferential in the way Dezba always
referred to Nadleh as she, as if honoring something that far
transcended the form of the physical body.  He decided that he, too,
should use the feminine pronouns, at least so long as he was relating
to Nadleh as a spiritual leader of her people.  Down deep inside, he
hoped there'd come a time when he could relate to Nadleh man to man.
Then maybe he would refer to--and experience--Nadleh as he.  Nadleh sat
back from the work she'd been doing on the sand painting  Her face
relaxed a little from the concentration, but her eyes showed she was
still deep in some kind of trance.  She uttered a few words in Dineh,
and the people in the circle began to sing.  One of them then handed
Nadleh a bowl.  She reached into the bowl and took a small handful of
the contents.  She put some to her mouth and ate, then rubbed the rest
over her face and neck.  Nadleh fed some to both Barboncito and
Anrelina.  The old woman could barely manage to eat any of it.  Nadleh
rubbed some on the face and neck of the two patients.  Then she passed
the bowl to the other people in the circle.  Each in turn ate a little
and rubbed a little on his or her skin.  When the bowl came to Will, he
did likewise.  Dezba and the others gave him an approving look.  He
wasn't sure what it was.  It looked and smelled just like cooked
cornmeal. When his mother or old Maudie had prepared cornmeal like this
at home, they'd called it mush.  They'd eaten it, but never rubbed it
on their faces, though he remembered that sometimes his mother had made
a paste of cornmeal to use as a facial scrub.  She said it cleaned away
old dead skin and made the countenance lively looking.  That hardly
seemed much different from what the Dineh were now doing in this ritual
of healing.

By doing this, you have completed the circle, Dezba whispered to him as
the others continued their singing, and all present will benefit.  This
ceremony is not just for the benefit of the patients, but for everyone
here, including you.  Healing is always for all, just as illness of any
one person affects all.  Several of the men stood up and lifted the
elderly woman Anrelina and then carefully placed her frail body right
on top of the laboriously constructed designs in the sand.  Nadleh next
helped Barboncito to stand up and then sit next to Anrelina on top of
the sand painting It seemed to Will like a lot of effort had been put
into that painting.  He had just begun to appreciate its beauty when
all of a sudden it was being ruined.  Almost as if she understood his
dismay, Dezba leaned over and explained that the effort Nadleh had put
into creating the painting had focused sacred energy into it which
could now be absorbed by the patients as they sat upon the design.  He
wasn't sure if that made any sense, but then he recalled how the
doctors had treated his mother's final illness.  That hadn't made any
more sense.  It hadn't worked.  And it certainly had not produced any
beauty if even for just a short time.  At least here the patients could
see the caring and involvement of their healer in the effort to help
them.  He began to understand why the Dineh showed such respect to
Nadleh.  She was like a priest, an artist, and a medical doctor all in
one.  Nadleh next sprinkled a bit of each of the colored powders on the
bodies of the patients.  She handed some sticks with feathers attached
to one end to Barboncito.  Dezba told Will these were prayer sticks and
that they would attract the help of the spirits, while the design
absorbed the evil energy in the patients that was making them ill.
Barboncito took some of the sticks and held them in each hand.  Will
recognized that these were the same as the sticks in the hands of the
figure in the design which he'd mistaken as arrows.  They were not
instruments of war, but of healing.  Nadleh placed the rest of the
prayer sticks in Anrelina's hand.  They fell from her grasp.  She
seemed simply too weak to hold them.  The singing then stopped, and
Nadleh stood up and began to twirl a piece of carved wood on a string
above her head.  It made a sound like a hive of bees that grew louder
and louder as it spun faster and faster.  The air in the room vibrated
as though everything were alive.  Then suddenly Nadleh pulled in on the
string and caught the piece of wood.  The sound stopped abruptly.  Next
Nadleh sprinkled some yellow powder over Barboncito and Anrelina. Dezba
whispered that it was sacred pollen.  Nadleh solemnly chanted words in
Dineh which Dezba interpreted: Beauty before me, beauty behind me,
beauty above me, beauty below me, beauty all around me.  In beauty I
walk the pollen path.  Barboncito looked up at Nadleh with a smile of
gratitude.  He had chanted the sacred words along with Nadleh.  He
clearly looked stronger.  But Anrelina had not managed to sing the
chant at all.  She could barely raise her head.  Her eyes looked
listless.  Will could see worry in Nadleh's face.  Nadleh started
another song and everyone but Anrelina--and Will--took up the singing.
While that continued, Nadleh took up another bowl and handed it to
Barboncito.  He looked into it with an expression of disgust, but then
took a drink from it.  Nadleh took the bowl back into her hands.  She
watched Barboncito intently for several minutes.  A sick look passed
over his face.  He leaned over away from the circle and vomited on the
ground.  Strangely, Nadleh seemed pleased.  Then she turned to
Anrelina. She raised the head of the old woman and tried to get her to
drink from the bowl.  But Anrelina was too weak, and probably too
repulsed, and kept turning her head away.  While Nadleh held Anrelina
and chanted softly to her, the bowl was then passed to the others. 
Each in turn took a sip and either gagged or, after a few minutes,
actually threw up.  When the bowl reached Dezba, she held it toward
Will so he could see the putrid-looking contents.  Even from a distance
he could smell that it was foul.  This will help purify you and get rid
of any evil within your body, she assured him.  It won't hurt you.  It
may make you throw up.  But that is all.  When Dezba drank from the
bowl and then handed it to him, he knew he had no choice.  He
reluctantly brought the bowl to his lips.  It smelled so awful he had a
hard time doing even this.  How am I going to drink this?  Will held
back for a moment, mustering his courage.  But even before he managed
to tip the bowl to his lips, he could feel his stomach turn.  He wasn't
sure if he actually drank any of the liquid, though he could taste the
bitterness on his lips.  But uncontrollably he began to wretch.  He
turned quickly and leaned away from the circle.  When he recovered,
Nadleh was standing over him.  She took the bowl from his still
trembling hand.  She looked quite pleased.  What a strange religious
ceremony!  But, in fact, Will realized that though there was still a
bitter taste on his lips, he felt better, more alert.  Maybe this is
healing, after all.  Nadleh once again tried to get Anrelina to drink
of the potion, but she was not responding at all.  Looking defeated,
Nadleh motioned for the singing to cease.  She took the prayer sticks
from Barboncito and from where they lay near the hands of the old
woman.  Nadleh held the sticks in the air and offered a final prayer. 
With that, the ceremony ended.  The people got up to leave.  Two of the
men helped Nadleh with Anrelina. Dezba followed Will out of the hogan. 
Will was surprised to see the faint glow of dawn in the eastern sky. 
The sky was breathtaking.  In the early morning, the desert seemed
transformed.

Thank you for inviting me to the ceremonies tonight, Will said.  It
looked like Nadleh was able to help the old man.

So many of our people have died since we were brought here to this
awful place, Dezba answered.  Even with Nadleh's healing powers, more
of our people continue to die.  She is lonely, and her powers are
weakened.  It is part of our curse, since the warfare began Dezba
paused as though considering a decision.  I have been thinking about
what Nadleh needs for her own healing, she said.

Yes, answered Will tentatively.

Long years ago, Nadleh felt great love, but she has not done so in a
long time.  She has the sexual needs of a young warrior, not an old
widow.  Nadleh needs to experience the joy of lovemaking once again.
Then she would not be so lonely.  She needs a man to hold her and make
love to her.  Do you understand?  Oh, I understand.  Confused but
elated by Dezba's proposal that what Nadleh needed for the sake of her
role as leader and spiritual healer for the tribe was a man to make
love to her, Will wandered back along the riverbank, through the screen
of scruffy trees, and up to his quarters.  He was surprised to see that
the door had been replaced on the front of his cabin.  He was sure it
had been Dineh who'd found it and cut new hinges of leather to hold it
in place.  They must have done that while he was in the ceremonies last
night.  With the exciting but frightening sense that his world was
changing, Will stripped off his clothes and collapsed into bed.  He was
exhausted, but could not calm his excitement.  Sleep wouldn't come. And
memories, stirred up by Dezba's suggestion, flooded his consciousness. 
Touching himself in a way he knew his father would not have approved of
at all, Will began to relive the eventful night, just a few weeks
before, at the end of the first leg of his journey West. The conductor
had come through the train, announcing the end of the line.  Passengers
would have to transfer to stagecoach to continue further.  Will looked
through the pouch he'd been given and found vouchers for the stagecoach
trip to Fort Sumner and for an overnight stay in a hotel.  The town
that had developed at the current end of the line of the
under-construction Kansas-Pacific Railway, he saw as the train pulled
to a stop, was primarily an array of wooden corrals along with a
hodgepodge of tents and a few makeshift buildings, the railroad depot
one of them.  It was here that westward travelers transferred to
stagecoach or those returning east came for the train to take them
home, along with the cattle.  Will had learned that these so-called cow
towns had little to do with the human passengers, like himself, and a
lot to do with the cattle to be loaded for transport back East.  This
was a loading point for the cowboys driving their cattle herds north
from the Texas grasslands.  As Will wandered down the main street of
the settlement, the cowboys he saw surprised him.  Almost all of them
were just that: boys.  Only a few looked to be beyond their
mid-twenties; some seemed no older than twelve or thirteen.  Most were
Negro or Mexican.  Though they were covered in dust--everything was
covered in dust--some of the cowboys were quite good-looking, and a
couple seemed to throw friendly glances his way.  But Will talked to
nobody; he was tired and went directly to the hotel as he was
instructed by the stationmaster.  It was a hardly a hotel, but rather a
compound of tents set up behind the saloon which was the biggest actual
wooden building in the town.  Because Will was a government Agent, he
got a tent all to himself.  It was surprisingly well-furnished with a
brass bed, comfortable straw mattress, a stool, and even a small
writing desk.  Down the way from his tent was a public wash area and an
enclosure with a bathtub inside.  For an extra nickel, one could get
the tub filled with hot water.  Will splurged on himself.  His birthday
was coming up.  Besides, he wanted to be fresh for the next morning's
stagecoach ride.  He ate supper in the saloon, then ordered his bath
drawn.  While he sat in the hot water relishing the feeling of being
clean for the first time in days, he was grateful for the perquisites
of government service.  But he felt guilty about getting such special
treatment.  He thought about the young cowboys sleeping crowded
together in their tents; he didn't think many of them could have gotten
accommodations as nice as his.  There was something exciting and
forbidden about thinking of the cowboys.  He pictured them, not
reclining in private baths, but all standing around, stripped to the
waist, washing themselves from a common tub.  He wondered what it would
be like to be one of those cowboys, out on the range with only another
cowboy for company.  He thought fondly of Michael Halyerd and wondered
what had happened to him.  He hoped he'd gotten to Norfolk safely and
maybe was even now as all the high seas.  After his bath, Will
sauntered through town.  There were enough cowboys around that the
dance hall and several nearby saloons were all doing brisk business. 
He wandered from one to another enjoying the manly comraderie of the
celebrating men. Most of them had also cleaned up and changed out of
their dusty clothes.  He thought they all looked ready for Sunday
church, but he guessed that's not what they were thinking about.  Most
of these men had been out on the trail.  They were all likely to have
given themselves over to celebration.  Behind him, young men were
jostling each other to get up to the bar.  Will imagined they could
handle a lot more beer than he.  He was not a drinker, and the couple
of beers he had drunk had already made him dizzy.  It was time to go
back to his tent and get some sleep.  He downed the last swig in his
glass and, with an unintentionally loud bang, set the glass on the bar.
He was just stepping back to make room when a voice spoke up out of
the crowd just behind his ear, Pardon, se or.  Leaving so early?  Will
turned around. A Mexican man right behind him was reaching past him to
get the bartender's attention.  No vaya ahora, he said.

Huh?  What did you say?  You want here?  At the bar?  Will was
frightened by the idea of talking with a stranger.  And at the same
time, he was thrilled.  This man's features looked so exotic to him and
interesting.

Ah do not go, the man said.  Buenos noches Er, good evening.

Oh Will answered, good evening

Me llamo Roberto.  Then the man corrected himself for Will's benefit,
My name is Roberto Calderon.  I noticed the color of your eyes

I'm Will, Will Lee, he answered.  He was used to be people remarking on
his unusual eye color.  With a dash of daring from the beer, he added
in imitation, Llamo es Will.

Me llamo, the Mexican cowboy corrected him, My name is Will.

No, I'm Will, he said, making a joke, You're Roberto.

Si, Yo soy Roberto.  Tu cres Will.  They both laughed.  Will liked the
way his name sounded with the Spanish accent.  You are Mexican?  he
asked.

Si, se or.

I've never met a Mexican before.  In fact, I've never met any foreigner
in my whole life.   Yo no soy estranero, Roberto answered.  You are
the foreigner.

Huh?  Will was bewildered.  Roberto laughed.  I say you are the
foreigner here.  This land used to be Mexico.

You live here?  Will asked.

Oh, no, Roberto answered.  I am a vaquero.

Huh?

A cowboy, Roberto answered puffing out his chest just a little.  I am
driving cattle from Texas for the train.  Will could see the muscles of
Roberto's chest under his shirt.

And you?  Roberto asked.  Is this your home?

I am going to Fort Sumner in New Mexico Territory, Will answered.  I
guess I don't have a home anywhere.

We are alike then, Roberto said.  His eyes cheered up.  He grinned at
Will and then reached out and gently ran his hand down the back of
Will's neck, smoothing his hair.  Will shivered at the touch.  He was
entranced by Roberto's features.  He reminded him of Michael, though
Roberto's olive skin was much darker.  He had thick black hair that
fell down evenly on both sides of his face.  He looked to be a couple
of years younger than Will.  His eyes were dark brown with long lashes.
His face was round, and his nose was aquiline, giving him a kind of
Indian look, but also, Will thought, a Roman handsomeness.  He looked
both so gentle and innocent and so manly at the same time.

Cerveza?  Roberto asked, turning to look right into his face.  Will
could tell Roberto had seen him staring at him.  He didn't seem in the
least displeased.

Huh?

Cerveza?  he repeated, pointing to Will's empty glass.

Oh, no.  I've had enough.  I was just leaving

Me too, Roberto said.  They went outside together and walked up and
down the short section of street that comprised the little town.

I grew up with other muchachos.  None of us had familias, so we became
each others familia.  We learned to hunt the wild cattle, Roberto
explained.  The Americanos want Texas beef.  Us cowpokes, we round up
the longhorns and drive em here to the railroad depot, then ride back
down to Texas to hunt more longhorns Roberto showed Will how the cattle
were herded into the corrals and then into railroad cars.  Will
rejoined with the story of the buffalo stampede he'd seen from the
train.  They both agreed shooting the buffalo and leaving the bodies to
rot was immoral.  Will explained about his job as apprentice to the
Indian Agent at Fort Sumner.  Roberto was not too enthusiastic about
Indians.  He warned him to be careful.  He admitted he'd never
experienced it personally, but he said he'd heard that the Indians
could be very dangerous.  He said his own people frequently had to
fight off Indian attacks.  He added that sometimes these attacks
resulted in Indians being taken prisoner and that the prisoners were
sometimes sold into slavery.  Will was not happy to hear about anybody
being sold into slavery.  He said that was a terrible idea that had
cost the South its self-respect.  Slavery is stupid.  How are you going
to force a full-grown Indian captive to be any kind of useful servant?
Roberto answered that the Indians taken prisoner were usually children,
not adults, so they could be trained.

Indian children are riding in attacks on the settlers?  Will asked,
incredulous.

Yo no se.  They walked in silence.  On the edge of town, Will could see
tents and campfires scattered out on the plain.  You got a campsite out
there?  he asked.

The trail master set up camp for me and my com padres  I think I can
find my way back there, Roberto answered.  How about you, mi amigo?
Where are you sleeping?

The Indian Office arranged for me to stay back of the dance hall  Got a
really nice tent that's set up almost like a room in a regular hotel.

Ay, I've not ever seen a hotel.

You've never seen a hotel?  Will asked in surprise.  Well, you wanna
see this one?  He half knew what he'd just started.  He was scared, but
thrilled, and his heart was beating like mad.

Bueno, Roberto answered.  Will didn't know if he was allowed to bring
guests back to his room.  So he brought Roberto around to the back of
the tent compound and led him through the wash area.

This sure is a grande tent you got here, all solo, Roberto said in
wonder as he followed Will into the room.  Me?  I usually sleep with
five other caballeros, all crowded together.   Is that a hardship?
Will asked.  He again felt guilty about having such affluence.  He
imagined poor Roberto impoverished and deprived.

On cold nights when we gotta help each other stay warm, it can be
entertaining His Mexican accent made the word entertaining sound so
portent.  It embarrassed Will.  Iwonder just who has been deprived,
Roberto or me?  I've been in hotels and fancy buildings and ridden on
modern trains.  But I've never been with other men in a tent, at least,
not men like these

You like that idea?  Roberto asked leadingly.

Oh, I dunno, Will buried his face.  He couldn't bring himself to look
into Roberto's dark eyes.

Or maybe just the two, yo no se?  Like you and me.  Now.

I dunno.  Will wanted to look up.  He rushed over to the little desk
beside the bed and lit the kerosene lamp.  He adjusted the flame of the
lamp so it wasn't too bright.  He felt funny about its casting shadows
on the walls of the tent.  Maybe somebody will see there are two people
in here when there's only supposed to be one!  Out of shyness, Will
changed the subject.  He picked up the book on the desk and showed it
Roberto.

Un libro.  Roberto took the thin volume and flipped through the pages
while holding the book upside down.  What is this?  As Will took the
book back from Roberto's hand, their fingers touched.  He turned the
book over and pointed to the words on the cover, It says Leaves of
Grass.

Ay, you can read!  I never met anyone who can read.

My mother taught me, and I went to school.  Didn't you?

How can a Mexicano ni o in Texas go to school?  I never even seen a
school.  I can't remember the last time I saw a book.  Read me
something.  Roberto sat down on the bed, very careful not to muss the
coverlet.  Will pulled the wicker stool over close to the lamp so he
could see.  He paged through the book looking for something he thought
Roberto could comprehend.  The young Mexican's desire to watch him read
touched him.  Roberto's eyes gleamed as he waited for Will to select
something from the book.  Will found a section and then looked up.  He
saw the light in Roberto's eyes.  He wasn't sure he'd picked a good
passage, but he began to read.

Es magnifico, Roberto said when he had finished.  What does it mean?

Well, Will responded slowly, not knowing for sure how to answer, I'm
only beginning to figure it out for myself.  The writer--his name is
Walt Whitman--is a peaceful man.  Like you, Roberto.  He doesn't like
war or competition.  He says the goal in life is to develop friendship.
The highest good for everybody will come from men uniting in what he
calls the dear love of comrades, irrespective of their race or class or
or whatever else.  Only when we release our feelings for each other,
and stop suppressing our love, will we get beyond the conflicts that
divide us.

You get all that from reading, I can't believe it.  That book says it a
lot better--you explain it a lot better--than I could, but in a way
this is what us caballeros, us cowpokes, feel for each other, this dear
love of comrades.  I don't know anything else.  I've never been with a
woman.  I can count on my fingers the few times I've ever even seen a
woman since I left my home.  I hardly remember what a woman looks like,
Roberto was grinning widely in exaggeration.  Have you seen any since
you've been out here?

Nope, Will answered.  He knew he'd seen women in the dance hall
earlier, but he played along with Roberto's jest.  Guess not.

See what I mean?  Except for the Indians, this is a country of men and
boys.  Sometimes whores pass through at the railroad junctions, and
some of the caballeros buy their favors.  But I don't know as I'd want
to.  Me, I'm just satisfied to stay with my cowpokes.

You speak English well.  Will changed the subject away again.
Nonetheless, his eye was attracted to the curve of Roberto's chest. The
cowboy was sitting in such a way that his shirt gapped open, and the
smooth surface of muscle showed taut and supple.

Since I've been workin for the Texans, my English is better.  I'm real
good at languages.  Say, I can speak Navajo and Comanche and even a
little French, Roberto announced proudly.  You want to hear
something?

Sure, what can you say?

Tu as yeux vert, Roberto said.

What's that?

Tu tienes ojos ver des Roberto said.  You have green eyes.  In French.
There was a Frenchman worked for the trail boss.  We got to be real
friendly for a while, and he taught me.

Can you say it in Navajo?  Will asked.  I'm going to be working with
the Navajos.

Uh, that is muy dificil, Roberto laughed.  It is a strange language. 
As Roberto was touting his language skills, Will could not take his
eyes off the cowboy's body.  He remembered the feel of Michael
Halyerd's chest pressed against his.  Roberto held his gaze.  Then
very softly he repeated his sample of French; only this time it didn't
sound like a language drill.  Tu as yeux vert.  Tres jolie yeux vert. 
Even though Will didn't understand the second part of Roberto's
sentence, he blushed.  He looked into Roberto's dark eyes and was lost
in the welcoming smile.

I see desire in your eyes, Roberto said.  If you have desires, why not
do what you want to do?  He spoke very quietly as if to avoid breaking
a spell.  Then he leaned forward and kissed Will.  It was a light kiss,
but full of meaning.  The dear love of comrades, Roberto said.  And he
reached out to Will to pull him toward the bed he was sitting on.  Will
gratefully let himself be pulled into Roberto's arms.  Roberto stood
and hugged him tightly.  Then he gently released his hold and, smiling
widely, guided him to lie down atop the coverlet.  Then he climbed up
onto the bed and lay down on top of him.  Roberto's body was pressing
down along the full length of Will s, and his cheek was pressed warmly
against Will's cheek.  Roberto pulled his face away and looked into
Will's eyes, then lowered his head so his lips brushed the corners of
the other's lips, then slowly wet Will's lips with his tongue.  He
kissed him deeply in the way that Will had been kissed only one time
before, by Michael.  This time, the kiss was not interrupted.  After a
while, Will's anxiety abated, and he stopped worrying about getting
caught by some raving judgmental lunatic.  Relief and excitement rushed
in to fill the void.  Roberto unbuttoned Will's shirt and began pulling
at it to get it off.  Will sat up a little and took over undressing
himself while Roberto stripped his own shirt off.  Roberto then kissed
him on the neck, lightly biting at his skin.  He had his legs astride
Will's hips.  He sat back on his haunches and gently, playfully slid
his buttocks against Will's pelvis.  Roberto unclasped the buckle of
Will's belt and opened the top couple of buttons of his trousers.  Then
he rolled over onto the bed and undid his own pants and kicked them
down. Will was captivated by Roberto's obvious lack of guilt and
self-consciousness.

Let me show you what we do for fun.

This won't hurt, will it?

I wouldn't hurt you, Se or Will, Roberto answered, gently mocking his
reluctance.  It's all for fun.  The whole idea is to feel good and
enjoy this lovely body you've got.  He tapped Will's belly.  To get
their trousers off, they both had to struggle with shoes and boots.
Then Roberto positioned Will in the middle of the bed and curled around
so he was kneeling next to him.  He slid his face down between Will's
legs and licked his tongue along the inside of Will's thighs and then
up over his genitals.  Then Roberto spit into his own hand and rubbed
the saliva over his penis, working it deftly to full hardness.  Next he
crossed Will's legs at the ankles and then turned and lay down on top
of him.  Roberto slipped himself between Will's wetted thighs.  He
supported his weight on outstretched arms, so he could manu ever his
torso against Will.  Will hadn't understood how men would have sex with
each other.  He had barely understood how men and women had sex.  But
as it was happening, this kind of makeshift intercourse seemed so
totally natural.  Of course, this is how men could have sex.  It isn't
a matter of connecting complementary organs as it is of bringing
pleasure to the body.  Will had, of course, brought himself to orgasm
before.  But those experiences had almost always been furtive and
fraught with shame.  He had always kept his sexual feelings secret,
almost even from himself.  Now experiencing arousal like this--with
another man who was also enjoying the feelings--abolished all the
secrecy.  He was amazed to discover that the arousal wasn't just in his
genitals.  Over his whole body he felt alive, tingling with energy.  He
strained to get closer.  He ran his hands down the smooth expanse of
Roberto's hard-muscled back.  He cupped the cowboy's buttocks in his
hands and held tight and let himself be rocked back and forth by
Roberto's thrusting.  By now, both of them had begun to perspire
freely, and their sweat-lubricated skin moved easily over each other's
flesh.  Roberto quivered and trembled against him.  He reared up and
threw his head back and shook his hair wildly and moaned.  He thrust
deep and long between Will's thighs.  Then he opened his eyes and saw
that Will was watching him.  An affectionate smile passed across his
face, and he craned his neck down and pressed his mouth against Will s.
As that kiss deepened, everything went out of Will's mind.  He felt
himself go all to jelly as his muscles began to move on their own as by
reflex.  His testicles contracted, and the warmth deep inside began to
move upward and out onto his belly against Roberto s. Then Roberto,
too, came to orgasm.  Will could feel the hot fluid oozing against his
thighs.  Roberto lowered himself and clutched Will tightly.  They
squeezed themselves together harder and harder as the pleasure rushed
through them both.  Then Roberto relaxed, his breathing slowed, and he
started to laugh softly.

What are you laughing at?  Will asked self-consciously.  Roberto raised
up and looked into his eyes.  How wonderful bodies are.  He pecked him
on the lips.  How wonderful you are, se or.  They both laughed as the
last echos surged through them, then lay together silently a long time.
The young Mexican's easy wisdom of sex and love seemed to flood into
Will as though through some queer and heretofore unexperienced
conjugation of soul.  Will began to understand more than ever what Walt
Whitman had talked about.  The love of comrades took on a more concrete
meaning as he lay with the cowboy.  He felt such gratitude toward
Roberto for showing him how to feel love and pleasure without worry and
guilt.  The condemnations of his father, of Lynchburg, of upstanding
Christian society--all were left behind.  He had, indeed, reached a new
frontier, in more than one sense.  At first light, Roberto roused him.
He'd already slipped back into his clothes.  I'm going back to the
campsite of mis caballeros.  I think I should get out of here before
all the hotel guests wake up.

That's all right, Will said, still half asleep.  If they want me to pay
more money for having a guest, I can do that.

Oh, no, mi amigo, I think perhaps the trail boss stays here.  He
wouldn't mind me being with you, but he might think I should not be in
as grand a hotel as him.  The reality of the world came back to Will.
There might not be constrictions out here in the West like there were
in Lynchburg, but Roberto was right.  His boss might not object to the
Mexican cowboys playing sexually with one another, but he might object
to one of his employees violating the rules of social stratification
that separated them.  Roberto kissed him on the lips.  Gracias, se or.
Much as gracias, he said.  Adios, Will.  Vaya con Dios.  Will smiled
wistfully as Roberto slipped out the flap of the tent and disappeared.
He wondered if he'd ever see him again.

Chapter Seven

Will awoke in the afternoon, surprisingly alert and rested.  He felt as
though he'd received some sort of healing himself last night.  A few
days before, he had been despairing of ever being able to establish any
significant communication with the Indians.  Now he'd been made privy
to intimate details of the Indians lives and been invited to
participate in ceremonies which he thought he might be the first white
man to have ever seen.  Then he remembered John Blewer, the tutor who
helped the Dineh to speak English.  He must have been included in
ceremonies like this; he'd been a friend of the Dineh.  And because of
his friendship, Dezba seems willing to include me in her confidence. 
As he headed over to the mess hall, Will gave thanks to John Blewer. 
How would I have ever managed to communicate with the Dineh if it
hadn't been for him?  I wonder if Jesse McDonald and the Office of
Indian Affairs back in Washington had known about Blewer?  Pastor
Sheldon had said only an old lady was interested in learning English. 
That must have been Dezba.  But then how had McDonald expected me to
work with the Indians if he didn't know they spoke English and
certainly must have known I couldn't speak Navajo?  Here was another
question for the list.  This one didn't seem as sinister.  Nonetheless,
it seemed as if it was he who should have learned to speak Dineh, not
the Indians who should have had to learn English.  After all, this was
their country. When an emissary went to see the leader of another
nation, like Benjamin Franklin going to the court of France, it was the
emissary's responsibility to learn the language, wasn't it?  What had
Mr.  McDonald thought I was going to be able to accomplish out here
with no training? In the mess hall, Will found a pot of coffee, a
couple of pieces of bread and some meat that had been left from lunch. 
He was famished. He had eaten nothing since yesterday.  There were
several soldiers also drinking coffee in the mess hall, but they
ignored him.  That was fine with him.  He sat in a corner facing the
back wall so he wouldn't be disturbed.  After eating, he headed back to
the Dineh settlement.  He saw General Carleton in the distance
observing him from the porch of his headquarters, but he pretended not
to notice.  He thought the general ought to be pleased with his effort
to learn the Dineh ways, but suspected instead that he'd probably
disapprove of his spending so much time with the Indians.  Will
reminded himself that as an emissary between the Hairy Faces and the
Dineh, he had to spend some time with his own side as well.  Carleton
had offered to teach him about managing the Indians; he ought to at
least talk with the man, let him know what he was learning through his
own investigations.  He'd observed that the general didn't pay much
attention to the actual conditions of the Indians lives; perhaps he
didn't know how really oppressed they were by the conditions on the
reservation.  Perhaps I can help him see and get him to do something to
alleviate the hardships.  As he neared the settlement, Will saw Nadleh.
She seemed to be preoccupied and did not notice his approach.  She was
carrying the bundle of feathered prayer sticks from last night's
ceremony.  He watched her, trying to remain inconspicuous, as she held
one of the prayer sticks up to the sky and then deposited it at the
base of a scrub tree.  She then went to another location and repeated
the ritual.  Will couldn't help following her every movement with his
eyes.  He wished she'd be distracted and notice him just for a moment. 
He wanted her to feel a similar fascination with him.  But that seemed
so selfish.  Here she is, trying to save and heal her people and I'm
wishing she were thinking about me. Well, I hope at least she's
including me in her prayers to help the people.  Maybe I can help them,
too, and earn her attention and affection.  Will watched as she moved
from one place to another, each time reverently placing a prayer stick
before some natural object--a rock, a dead tree limb, a gulley, a bush,
perhaps each the home of a spirit to whom she appealed for aid.  When
Nadleh had placed all of the prayer sticks she went into the central
hogan--Dezba had called it the medicine lodge.  Will could see the old
woman was seated near the entrance working at some project.  When Will
approached, Dezba looked up and greeted him warmly.  He saw she was
grinding different colors of corn with a stone pestle to make the
pulverized materials that went into the sand painting

Nadleh is creating another ceremony for Anrelina for tomorrow, she
announced.  Barboncito is feeling much better after last night's
ceremony.  Anrelina is even weaker.  Nadleh distributed prayer sticks
to invite the spirits from all over the area to attend the ceremony.

I saw him, Will said.  Dezba did not seem to notice he'd used a
masculine pronoun.  Maybe they were interchangeable.

Go inside and watch Nadleh work on the sand painting  The energy you
put in while you watch can help the outcome.  As casually as he could
manage, Will bent down and went in through the low opening.  It was
shadowed inside, though light came in through a smoke hole in the
ceiling.  It took his eyes a moment to adjust.  He crouched down and
watched silently while Nadleh lay out the first elements of the design.
As she completed a line that divided the painting into four quadrants,
she looked up at him with a faint smile.  She said nothing, but Will
could feel something he valued almost as much as affection: inclusion.
He felt like a participant and not an observer.  He let his mind calm
as he watched Nadleh's delicate movements, though there was an
undercurrent of excitement just from being in the same room with the
mysteriously attractive Indian.  He could remember how Nadleh had
looked in the sweat lodge without the women's clothes.  And he kept
thinking about Segundo.  Will consciously exerted effort in his
attention to add to the power of the sand painting After a while, he
got up and went outside.  Dezba was still working with her pestle.  She
gestured to him to come sit next to her.

So many of our people have died.  Nadleh tries to save them.  Sometimes
she succeeds.  But we are far from our homelands, and the spirits here
are weak.  Nadleh tries so hard.  It is because she did not have any
chance to save her own husband, Segundo.  Seeing an opportunity to
raise the question he'd been afraid to bring up last night, Will asked,
Is it acceptable to the Dineh for Nadleh to have married a man?

Acceptable?  she looked at him curiously.

You know, morally right?  Will did not know how to ask his question. He
realized that how a question is phrased can already determine the
answer.

Yes, Dezba answered matter-of-factly.  Would it be otherwise?

Well, he continued cautiously, can you explain why Nadleh dresses as a
woman, when his body is that of a man?  Dezba looked down at her work.
She carefully moved the pulverized corn from the stone she was working
on to a small basket, then took a handful of reddish kernels and laid
them on the stone.  As she began to crush them, she said, Our peoples
are so different.  You do not know the ways of the Dineh.  He nodded
agreement.

I will tell you another story, Will Lee, Dezba began.  Her voice
changed tone as she began to recount the legend.  A long time ago,
before my grandmother and before her grandmother, before the Dineh even
existed in our homeland, our ancestors lived in a different world.
There were four worlds before this one that we are in now.  In one of
those worlds, there lived one of the first people, known as Turquoise
Boy.  The mother of Turquoise Boy was Changing Woman herself.

You see, Changing Woman had flown up into the sky and had fallen in
love with the Sun.  His brightness dazzled her, and his rays warmed her
body.  Changing Woman became pregnant from her intercourse with the
Sun.  But Changing Woman was very independent, not the kind to settle
down into a marriage, even with the magnificent Sun.  So she decided to
leave the sky.

After returning to the world, Changing Woman did not know if she would
ever have a chance to have intercourse with the Sun again, and she
could not decide whether she wanted to have a son or a daughter by him.
So she decided to have the best of both.  The result was that Turquoise
Boy was born as a combined person, a special sacred being, not either a
man or a woman, but both.

Turquoise Boy was the first person created like Nadleh.  There have
always been such persons, born into every generation, ever since then.
It is part of the reality of the universe.  We Dineh believe people
like Nadleh are bestowed by Changing Woman with two spirits, both the
man's and the woman's spirits.  This makes them superior to the regular
man or woman who has only one spirit.

Two-Spirit People can be of great value.  When Turquoise Boy was about
twelve years old, many rains came, and there was a great flood.  All
the people and all the animals ran to the top of the highest mountain.
Still the waters kept rising.

Back then, the animals and the people were friendly and tried to help
each other.  Eagle volunteered to carry everyone to safety, but it was
raining so hard that even with his powerful wings, Eagle could not fly.
Coyote was sad and predicted they were all going to drown.  But
Turquoise Boy had an idea.  He found a great reed which went high into
the sky, higher even than the rain clouds  Turquoise Boy got Woodpecker
to chop a hole in the base of the reed and Gopher to burrow a tunnel
upward inside.

Then, one by one, all the people and all the animals climbed up through
the hollowed reed and came out on top.  They saw they had gone far
above the rain clouds and the reed had planted roots at its crown into
the dirt of another world.  That is the world of our Mother Earth which
we now walk on every day.  And so that is how the Dineh came into this
world where we now live.

The animals and the humans were saved, all because of Turquoise Boy.
This is why Dineh feel gratitude for those like Nadleh.  People who are
created different are a special gift to us all--to help us with their
talents, to open our eyes to different ways of seeings things.
Two-Spirit People are very creative.  If Turquoise Boy had not come up
with that creative idea, all the people and animals would have drowned.
This is why even the animals respect Two-Spirit Persons like Nadleh.
She can communicate with animals, you know.  Our family is very lucky
to have Nadleh, with her magical powers and her special closeness to
the spirit of Changing Woman.  Will wondered how his father would have
thought about that.

This is how Nadleh is able to help the sick.  Her name, Nad-leh, means
one who is transformed.  She has had a great experience and discovered
she is a Two-Spirit Person, and so her difference works to the benefit
of all.  These Two-Spirit Persons can see things from the point of view
of both men and women.  They are very helpful that way.  They see what
others do not notice because most people see only as a man or as a
woman.

Two-Spirits are sometimes born into the body of a man and sometimes
into the body of a woman, Dezba explained.  But as they grow up, their
character shows them to be two-spirited.  If their family thinks they
might be two-spirited, then a ceremony is performed.  The child is
presented with the bows and weapons of a warrior and, also, with the
materials of a wife for making baskets.  The spirit that Changing Woman
or some other Holy Person has placed in them will show itself in their
choosing which utensils to take for their own.  We Dineh believe a
person's spirit is more important in defining them than their physical
body, so we accept them for the way they are in their spirit.

Sometimes you may hear warriors tease Two-Spirit Persons.  You know,
men are often very proud of their manliness; they think it is funny
that others choose to not be so manly.  But their teasing is only to
honor the difference of the Two-Spirit.  It is never done
disrepectfully.

We teach our children always to respect Two-Spirit Persons.  They are
sacred and holy.  They are central to our whole way of life.  Whenever
there are no more Two-Spirit children born among our people, that is
the day when there will be no more Dineh.  The Dineh, the animals, and
the beauty of our homeland would all disappear.  Will was rapt in
concentration on Dezba's words.  Just then, his attention was broken by
the approach of a soldier.  Dezba fell silent.  She looked down at her
work as though to block out the presence of the Hairy Face intruder.

Sorry to interrupt you, Mr.  Lee, the soldier said.  General Carleton
wants to see you.  Immediately.  Will didn't want to leave now.  He was
just getting answers to the most important questions.  But he knew he
couldn't put General Carleton off, especially since he'd sent a
messenger to get him.  He apologized to Dezba, then jumped up and
walked back to the fort with the soldier leading the way.  He couldn't
help remembering the last time he was led to Carleton's office.  But
that had been before he'd discovered the self-confidence that came with
learning the new perspective of the Dineh.  When Will knocked on the
door, as before, the knock was answered by a gruff response, Permission
granted.  Enter.  Will opened the door to see General Carleton sitting
behind the desk.  He gestured impatiently for him to enter and sit
down.  Will couldn't help thinking the huge wooden desk--piled high
with papers and in-and-out boxes, two oil lamps, a couple of cigar
boxes, and a silver ink-well--was like General Carleton's personal fort
from which he positioned himself for battle with the outside world. 
The general leaned forward in his chair.

Mr.  Lee, he began, If I may be frank I've noticed you have spent quite
a lot of time out among the Navajos the past few days.

Yes sir, Will answered proudly, It's only been in the last couple of
days that I've succeeded in getting the Indians to talk with me.

Well, that's what I'm concerned about, you see.  Will wondered if he
was being called on the carpet for taking so long to discover the
leadership of the Indians on the reservation and to begin dealing with
them.  He did not want to have to admit that what he'd learned in the
past days had had nothing to do with reservation business.  It had all
been about his own religious and sexual questioning.

I appreciate your concern, sir.  I know it's taken me a while to get
familiar with them.  As you know, I've had no prior experience with
Indians.   Now here, Mr.  Lee, that's what I'm concerned about--that
you get the right kind of experience with the Indians.

I'm trying to learn as fast as I can.  I want to be a good Agent, he
said.

Then let me tell you about being a good Agent

Oh, yes, sir.  I'm very interested in

Mr.  Lee, the general's voice took an edge.  Be quiet for a moment and
let me speak.

Yes, sir.

Let me advise you, the general began, it is well to keep a certain
distance from the Indians.  The ways of savages are not yet understood
by you, and I don't want you to get drawn into something you can't
later control.  The general sat back in his chair and put his hands on
the arms.  He looked right at Will.  Not sure what to respond and not
sure how since he wasn't supposed to speak, Will nodded his head.  But
he certainly didn't agree with General Carleton about keeping distance.
That has been the problem all along, he'd already discovered in his
three days of contact with the Dineh.  If some of the Hairy Faces had
just been listening to their side, there'd never have had to be any
Navajo War at all.

It is important that you learn about the problems of the Indians from
the most authoritative source.  I realize that I have been negligent in
my responsibilities toward you as your commanding officer.  Mind you,
it is nothing personal at all, just that I have so many matters to
occupy my time here.  But I have decided you and I should meet more
regularly.  You seem like a nice young man.  Perhaps an old man like
myself, Carleton leaned back, opened his arms, and chuckled, can teach
you a thing or two which will be of inestimable value to you later on.
For just a moment, General Carleton looked like a kindly old man
calling for some young whippersnapper to climb into his lap.  He looked
at Will questioningly.  There was a silence.  Finally, the general
said, Well ?

I'm sure you could, sir.  I'd be much obliged.  Never can learn too
much, Will answered.  He felt complimented that the general had taken a
personal interest in him.  He realized he'd let his memories of his
father cloud how he'd perceived General Carleton.  Still he was wary.
He didn't want to let the general's interest in him interfere with what
he was learning from the Dineh.  Uh, but, sir he added hesitantly.

Yes, what is it, my boy?

Uh, I don't think you actually are my commanding officer, sir.  As you
reminded me when I first arrived, we both have responsibility for the
Indians welfare, but you're answerable to the Army, and I am answerable
to the Office of Indian Affairs.  Exasperation crossed Carleton's face,
but then he leaned forward and put his hands together on the desk. Yes,
Mr.  Lee, that's correct.  I, ah, meant that only as a figure of
speech, you know

Well, you are the commanding officer around here, all right, Will
answered.  He'd made his point.  But he didn't want to alienate
Carleton.  But, General, you're not an old man--like you said. 
Carleton looked perplexed.  It took him a moment to catch Will's
reference to his earlier self-deprecating joke.

Ah, thank you.  I take that as a compliment

Just as it was intended, sir, Will answered as charmingly as he
could.

Good.  Then you go back to your quarters now and get a good night's
sleep.  We'll talk in the morning, say, about nine.  There are some
forms that require your signature.  I'll have Lieutenant Bauer draw
them up by then.  Then just as Will started to stand, No, no, the
general said, half to himself, that won't be possible.  Uh, business
matters, you know.  Visitors from Santa Fe coming tomorrow.  Make it
the next day, Lee, same time.

Yes, sir, Will agreed, nine o clock in the morning day after tomorow.
I'll be here.  The general's comment about getting a good night's sleep
reminded him that though he'd only been up a few hours, it was almost
sunset.  He realized he should hurry if he wanted to go back to
continue his talk with Dezba.

Perhaps you're going down to the mess hall.  Carleton apparently
noticed that he d, perhaps inadvertantly, sent Will to his room without
his supper.  Would you like to sit at my table?  Will had been waiting
for that invitation for some time.  But not now.  I liked your first
idea, sir.  Truth is I ate lunch late.  I'm pretty tired.  Your
suggestion of a good night's sleep sure sounded fine to me.

As you were, then, the general answered.  Perhaps another time.

Yes, sir.  Will had no intention of going to bed.  But the commanding
officer had just told him to keep his distance from the Indians.  He
couldn't very well decline the honor of eating at the general's table
because he wanted to go back to his talk with Dezba.  He went toward
his cabin.  Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed General Carleton
leave the office and walk toward the mess.  It was getting dark, and
figures were hard to make out.  Half-way to his cabin, Will changed
directions, ducking behind some brush and then taking off toward the
Dineh settlement.  Since Dezba had begun to explain the Dineh way of
life to him, he'd discovered all this had a direct bearing on his own
life.  Maybe the other Hairy Faces don't care about the Indians and
their rich culture.  Maybe it has no bearing on their lives.  But I am
not like the rest of them Previously he could have imagined himself
living with a loving friend, like Michael Halyerd.  But it would have
had to be behind closed doors.  They couldn't have shown their true
selves--not in the society in which he had grown up.  But here--among
the Dineh--all that seemed different.  The love of one man for another
was recognized and respected.  Indeed, if I've understood Dezba
correctly, the Dineh believed Two-Spirit Persons, like Nadleh, were an
advantage for a family and even for society.  As he made his way along
the riverbank, Will wondered if what he'd felt for Michael and for
Roberto Calderon--and maybe now for Nadleh--meant he was a Two-Spirit
Person also.  Will wasn't ready to ask Dezba yet if he could think of
himself that way.  Maybe she'd think that sacrilegious.  But he had
lots of questions for her.  He thought about Harry Burnside, how the
old man had created his own life for himself, being both husband and
wife, being an attorney and cooking his own biscuits, caring for people
and helping them as best he could.  Harry wasn't magical like Nadleh,
but he seemed like what a Two-Spirit Person might be in genteel
Southern white society.  It was, after all, Harry Burnside who set Will
on the path that had led him to the Bosque Redondo.  It was Harry who'd
given him direction that awful day after he'd fled his father's church
house. Will recalled how lost and confused he'd felt as he drove the
mule down the main street of Lynchburg, now deserted on Sunday morning.
His mind had been racing.  What do I do now?  Where am I going to go? 
Will's confusion was interrupted by a voice calling his name.  He
looked up and saw a familiar face smiling down from a second floor
window.  It was Harry Burnside, a lawyer who had his office over old
Abraham Mattingly's dry goods store.  Burnside had his desk situated so
he could survey the street below; Will knew he lived in an apartment
adjoining the office.  He had often talked to Harry on the stoop in
front of Mattingly's store.  Harry liked to sit out there in the
evenings and gab with the townsfolk.  Everybody liked Harry Burnside,
though everybody also thought he was a bit strange.  Will waved to him
meekly.

Join me for coffee, Harry said with a wave, indicating he should come
upstairs.

Oh, no, thank you.

Well, why not?  What do you have to lose?  Harry asked with a laugh.
What was the point of saying no?  He had nowhere to go.  He parked the
buggy and hitched the mule.  Will's father had never had much to do
with Burnside, claiming he was too free-thinking.  When the war
started, Harry refused to renounce his loyalty to the Union.  We're
still brothers, he'd said.  I got friends in Washington.  And they're
still my friends.  I've got friends in Richmond, too.  They're also
still my friends.  If everybody hadn't liked him and sometimes depended
on his legal know-how for help, he might have been arrested as a
Unionist and a traitor to the Confederacy.  But everybody who knew
Harry knew he was far enough above politics to forgive him his
eccentricity.  As it turned out, after the fall of the Confederacy,
Harry's good connections with Washington and the Union helped a lot of
local people.  They needed a reputable source to vouch for them in
getting qualified for taking the U.S. Loyalty Oath.  Without being so
qualified, it was almost impossible for any Southerner to get a job or
even a contract to do business with the government of Reconstruction. 
Harry's good nature and his apolitical status proved to be a boon for
the whole town. Harry Burnside was just a good man.  As Will knocked
lightly on the door at the top of the stairs, he was genuinely glad
Harry had invited him up.  He really needed to talk to somebody.  The
door swung open.  Come in, young man, Harry said cordially.  Then, with
a hint of tenderness, You look like you got some worries on your mind. 
Will nodded his head sheepishly.

Well, now, maybe a cup of coffee and a little talk'll help.  It's a
fine mornin .  The sun is shining.  God's in his heaven; all's right
with the world.  Harry laughed again.

Mr.  Burnside, do you really believe that?

That it's a beautiful day?  Why, of course.

No, I mean, about God being in heaven and all that.  Will's voice was
cracking with nervousness.

Oh, that's a line from an English poet name o Browning, Harry said,
ushering him into the office.  I don't think the poet believed it
himself.  The walls were lined floor to ceiling with law books.  C mon
back to the parlor, my boy.  Harry led him through the office into his
living quarters.  You havin a little problem with God?

Guess you might say that Will answered evasively.

Well, I can see how that could be a problem for the son of the
hardest-nosed preacher in town.  Harry laughed in a gentle way that
invited intimacy.  Just tween you and me, Will, I sorta got my doubts
about all this God business myself.  He gestured for him to sit down on
a green velvet settee.  Harry poured Will a cup of coffee.  And here're
some buttermilk biscuits fresh from the oven.  Baked em myself just a
little while ago.  I been hopin some nice friend might stop by to enjoy
a little Sunday mornin repast with me, Harry said, placing a tray on
the low table in front of the settee.  On the tray was a crockery bowl
full of fresh butter, several little cut-glass cups brimming with
colorful preserves, and an Oriental wicker basket from which Will could
smell warm biscuits.  A part of the comforting charm of Harry
Burnside's simple but elegant little parlor was the aroma of fresh
baking.  It reminded Will of his mother.  And for the first time in a
week, he let himself relax.  Will had been doing all the cooking for
his father and himself since Maudie left and even before that really,
indeed, since the time his mother started getting sick and he had taken
to caring for her.  Still it had never occurred to him that a grown man
could live his entire life taking care of himself the whole time, even
down to the baking of buttermilk biscuits on Sunday morning.  He looked
around the room.  It was furnished simply, even austerely.  The decor
was clearly masculine, but the entire arrangement was tasteful and
pleasing, not as one would imagine an unmarried man would create it.  A
few fine oil paintings graced the walls, and several objets'd art were
carefully showcased: a chi noise screen, a carved ivory tusk, a Persian
hookah pipe made of shiny brass, a beautiful kerosene lamp with a shade
of multi-colored glass mosaics that formed a butterfly.

You ever had a wife?  Will asked boldly.  I mean, to teach you how to
cook and keep house and all that, you know?  Harry chuckled.  Can't say
as I have, m boy.  Can't say as I ever missed it neither, though I've
known some mighty fine women in my life.  And they d've all made good
companions.  But I guess I was just always the bachelor type, if you
know what I mean.

Me, too, Will answered defiantly, remembering Michael's declaration
that he weren't never getting married.  Harry who was now sitting in a
highbacked wooden chair adjacent to the sofa, reached over and patted
Will's knee paternally.  Will wished he'd had a father who'd patted him
on the knee Harry Burnside's hair had turned white, and his waist had
filled out--the colorful brocade vest he was wearing stretched pretty
tight about his middle--but his face was free of lines or wrinkles.  He
looked almost ageless.  Will would have placed Harry at around
fifty-five or sixty, but there was something downright boyish about
him.  Harry sat forward on his seat and leaned in toward him, You know,
William, some of us are called to the beat of a different drummer.  We
have different things to do with our lives.  For some of us, marriage
and family just aren't part of our vocation.

Vocation?

Well, maybe you could say what God has got planned for us.

My father says God demands every man and woman be fruitful and
multiply, Will responded as if by rote.

I guess I'm not talkin bout that kind of God, Harry shot back.  I don't
think you are, either.  Isn't that where this conversation started?  He
bobbed his head and laughed gently.  Your father's God is a pretty
stern and heartless fellow.  But that's not the only notion of God
around.  You ever heard of these New England Transcendentalists?  Or
Mr.  Walt Whitman?  They talk all about God, but it's not the same
notion of God your father's got.

Father's sermon this morning was about how God rained down fire and
brimstone on Sodom and Gomorrah.  Will started blurting out the whole
story of this week's misadventure.  He told Harry about his father's
catching him and Michael in the barn and beating them with the
horsewhip and calling them abominations and then recounting the whole
story to the congregation in his sermon.  Harry listened attentively,
occasionally patting Will's knee.

Now, don't go basing everything on your dad, Will.  He's a well, a
peculiar kind of man.  There's a whole wide world out there waiting for
you with lots of different kinds of men and lots of different kinds of
ideas, bout God, bout lots o things It thrilled Will to hear Harry use
practically the same words Michael had used.

You said some of us are called to the beat of a different drummer.  You
mean, like, like you and me?

Uh-huh Harry answered matter-of-factly.

And have different things to do with our lives?

Uh-huh.

But what?

Let me tell you a little about the world, Will, Harry said.  His voice
took on a teacherly tone, and he began to explain about what kinds of
different drum beats there were out there.  He told him how some people
just aren't born for raising offspring, that they've got other talents
that help all of society, not just their own little family.  He said he
thought these talents helped create culture and civilization, and might
be more important to God even than being fruitful and multiplying.
Harry talked for a long time.  Will wished the talk was all a little
more practical and less philosophical.

I've never fit in here anywhere, Will finally interrupted.  How am I
gonna march to a different drum in Lynchburg?

Then go somewhere else, Harry said, as though it were the easiest thing
in the world to do.  Nobody's tied you down here.  What do you want to
do?  There was the question again: What do you want to do?  Not what do
they want you to do?  Harry reached out and opened the Oriental wicker
basket and proffered him another biscuit.  While Will was fussing with
the butter and preserves, Harry sprang the big question on him: So why
don't you leave now?  Will looked up startled.  Of course, that was the
answer.  He'd been thinking about hanging himself from that tree out in
front of the church house and all he really had to do was leave town.
He admitted timidly, I guess I'm afraid.  I don't know what I'd do out
there to make a living.

Well, if that's all that's keepin you, I may be able to help you.  I've
got some contacts in Washington.  I bet one of them can get you a
government post.  Oh, yes, yes.  Jesse McDonald.  He's just the man you
need to see.  Harry jumped up excitedly.  I'm going to write you a
Letter of Introduction to a fellow I know in the Interior Department.
I'm more than certain it'll get you an interview.  You play your cards
right, and this man McDonald could have you hired by the end of the
week.

Oh, this is like a dream come true, Will said.  Oh, Mr.  Burnside, I
could just kiss you.  Harry's eyes lit up.  He leaned forward and
tapped his cheek with his forefinger, indicating that Will was welcome
to kiss him primly.  Slightly embarrassed and laughing even more, Will
did so. And they both laughed together.

I just hope this is the start of a brand new life for you, young man.
You listen for that different drummer, now, hear?  Well, look, let me
write you that Letter of Introduction.  In the meantime, here, you look
at this.  He walked over to a bookshelf, took down a book, and
presented it to Will.  While Harry went into his office in the next
room and dipped his quill in the inkwell and wrote on his legal
stationery, Will perused the volume he'd been given.  It was a brand
new copy of a little book bound in leather, Leaves of Grass by Walt
Whitman.  This was a name Harry had mentioned earlier, one of those
Harry said had had a different notion of God, one that might make more
sense to him. Alittle later, Harry Burnside interrupted his reading by
handing him an official-looking envelope sealed with red wax with
Harry's professional seal.  There you are.  I have no doubts this will
get you a job.  Can't say what kind, of course, but I assured Jesse
that you were a man of many talents.

And that's it?  I take off just like that and bring this letter to
Washington?  he asked breathlessly.

Just like that, Harry assured him.  The address is on the envelope.
Now, listen, he cautioned, changing his tone of voice, you tell
McDonald you want a good job.  You might say you want one like he got
when he was your age.  I don't know Jesse well anymore.  But he owes me
favor.  I think he'll help you.  But heed my advice and don't let him,
ah, take undue advantage of you.  He's not the same man I used to know.
You keep your distance.   And, here, take that book.  I think there're
things in there that'll speak to you.  You can see this copy is brand
new.  Why, this is the fourth or fifth copy I've bought!  They make
good presents for earnest young men with bright futures in their eyes. 
And you've sure got some beautiful bright eyes, Harry said wistfully,
adding a compliment.

Now you better hurry, young man.  The train for Washington comes
through here bout four o clock.  It's nearly three now.  An hour!  Oh,
my God, Will thought, grinning widely.  He took Harry's hand warmly in
his.  Harry, you may have just changed my life around

Sounds to me like it could only get better, he remarked with a twinkle
in his eye.  Hurry home and pack.  Here, take the rest of these
biscuits to eat on the train.  He wrapped them in a napkin and handed
them to Will.  Have you got train fare?  Will assured him he had
savings enough to pay for the railroad ticket.  Thanks, Harry.  Then
Harry Burnside did something no man had ever done before.  He threw
open both his arms and embraced Will tightly and warmly.

Now skeedaddle.  You got your future awaiting you.  Will rushed home.
He saw his father wasn't there.  He'd stayed for that church social in
the afternoon Charlotte Franklin had been so excited about last week.
Damn Charlotte Franklin, she started all this Then he realized maybe he
ought to be feeling grateful to her instead.  He quickly put the buggy
away in the barn and unhitched the mule.  He retrieved his stash of
money from under the hay and then rushed into the house and clambered
up the stairs to his room.  He threw some clothes in an old carpetbag
of his mother s. Bounding downstairs, he stopped in front of his
father's desk.  Pen and paper lay waiting for him to write a farewell
letter. He sat down, but then couldn't think of anything to say.  The
old man thought he ought to be dead.  Well, let him think whatever he
wants. Will looked out the window and saw the neighbors driving their
wagon up the road.  He could see his father sitting in the front seat. 
The church social must've finished up.  But he wasn't going to be there
when his father came in the front door.  He rushed out the back.  He
rode off on the mule, going the back way over the river.  He got to the
railroad station just a few minutes before four.  The train had already
arrived and was sitting on the tracks puffing billows of steam.  As he
paid for his ticket, he noticed Japhet, the Lee family's former slave.
He ran over to the man, clapped him warmly on the back and asked him if
he'd do him a favor and return the mule.  Japhet said he'd be happy to.
With that last bit of family responsibility properly acquitted, Will
jumped on board.  Even before he found his second-class seat, the train
pulled out of the station with a loud long burst of its whistle.  As he
threw his bag into the overhead rack and took his seat, he was amazed
at all the changes his life had taken in the past week.  Part of him
felt terribly afraid.  But another part of him was thrilled and excited
and glad the last few hours had happened so fast he hadn't had time for
misgivings.  He broke into a big smile as he looked out the window at
the countryside now beginning to speed by.  Michael had been right.
There was a big wide world out there just a waitin .  Will dug into his
carpetbag and pulled out the volume of poetry and the biscuits Harry
Burnside had wrapped in a napkin.  As he ate, he paged through the
book, reading here and there.  Harry had been right.  These words spoke
directly to him.  He could almost hear the figurative beat of the
different drum.  Well, if my past has been buried in the confines of
family under the domination of my father, now, he decided, it will be
the promise of what Whitman calls the dear love of comrades that will
be the guiding value of my new life.  Feeling the strength of that
commitment and understanding that it would be lived out in his bond
with the Dineh people, and especially, perhaps, with Nadleh, Will
quickened his step toward the settlement, the imaginary drum propelling
him.  Coming through the screen of scrubby trees, Will could see that
Dezba was still sitting where he'd left her.  He hoped she'd remained
because she had known he'd be returning.

You were telling me about Turquoise Boy, he began, launching right into
the discussion as though they hadn't been interrupted.  Don't the Dineh
think it is unnatural for Nadleh to marry a man?

Unnatural?  Dezba asked.  How can following one's nature be unnatural?
If Nadleh loves someone and they live as a family, isn't that a
marriage?

I meant how can two people of the same sex marry?

For a marriage to occur, what matters are feelings of love and
attraction.  This happens in the spirit world.  What does the sex of
the people matter?

In my world, they say the only purpose of sex and marriage is to have
children.  So men can only marry women and women can only marry men as
God ordained, Will hastened to add.

From the missionary who came here, I saw that the Hairy Faces have
strange ideas, Dezba answered.  Is this what the Hairy Face god says?
What about Two-Spirit Persons?  They can form a spirit marriage with a
man or a woman.  Does the Hairy Face god not know about such people?
Dezba smiled as though to acknowledge the humor in her condescension.

For the Dineh, there are many purposes of sex and marriage.  Children
are one purpose.  But so is spirit connection.  You asked this question
about Nadleh, Will Lee.  Maybe this is a question about yourself?

I guess so, he acknowledged.  Maybe he was going to get an answer to
the question he wasn't ready to ask yet.

Nadleh was given to my family as a Two-Spirit Person as a gift of
Changing Woman.  When Nadleh was very young, she knew she was both a
man and a woman and could love both a man or a woman.  Her life came
from the spirit world, not from her sex.  When she married Segundo, it
was because their spirits had united.  Nadleh saw it in a vision.  And
when she told Segundo, he, too, sought for a vision.  And he saw that
Changing Woman had given him Nadleh to love for the sake of the
Dineh.

Nadleh has healing power because she is Two-Spirit.  By uniting with
Segundo's strength, her powers were made stronger.  And Segundo was
made a better leader because he had a wife who came from Changing
Woman.

Nadleh and Segundo made love together because making love is good and
pleases Changing Woman and all the spirits.   But sex is for children.
That is why my people have sex, Will declared.

Is that so?  Dezba asked cynically.  Sex is a wonderful gift from the
spirit world.  We should show gratitude for sex.  Even children like
it.  Young people, especially, should have love and sex.  It is good
for them.  But I do not believe you that Hairy Faces have sex only
because they want children.  John Blewer told us that Hairy Faces have
places they call orphanages where they put unwanted children.  How
could there be unwanted children if Hairy Faces only have sex because
they want children?

The Dineh want all their children.  We have no orphanages.  We have no
unwanted children.  But we make love because we enjoy it and because it
fills the longings of our spirits for other spirits.  Will thought
about his mother.  He'd always assumed she'd wanted him to be born. 
Had she? It was hard for him to imagine that either his mother or his
father would have wanted sex for any other reason.  His own culture
seemed to have obscured these issues.  Dezba's ideas seemed just right.
Where did the ideas of Hairy Face culture ever come from?  But Will
had been strongly indoctrinated into those ideas.  But what if you have
children before you are married?  Shouldn't people wait until after
marriage to have sex?

Why should they wait?  Dezba shot back, laughing.  She was serious, but
she was also making fun of his questions.  She seemed to sense that he
did not altogether believe what he was saying himself.

Once a girl begins her menstruation, she is ready to make her own
choices.  The spirits have shown that by preparing her body and
allowing her to bleed with the moon.  If she wants to have sexual
pleasure--and why not?--then she should do that.  If she wishes a
child, then that is her choice.  She should make love and give birth to
a baby.  Her child will be welcomed into the family of her mother. That
is how we raise our children.

We do not live as the Hairy Faces do, where men like the soldiers go
off from their families and live only with other men.  We would
consider that very bad to live so far away from our relatives.  Where
are the Hairy Face women?  Where are the Hairy Face families?  Will
didn't have an answer.

Let me tell you another story of the Dineh.

Yes, please.

Long, long ago, soon after the arrival of the animals and the people
into this world, First Man and First Woman had an argument.  First Man
wanted to start hunting the animals to get meat and hides.  First Woman
thought killing the animals would be a betrayal of the people's
friends.

First Man knew Turquoise Boy could do all manner of women's work as
well as women, so he and the other men left the women and crossed a big
river.  Turquoise Boy went with the men because she enjoyed sex a lot
and could not bear to be apart from the men.  But Turquoise Boy agreed
to go only on condition that she would not have to do any hunting
herself.  The men agreed to this because they wanted to enjoy sex with
Turquoise Boy.  So they began to hunt.  They also began gathering wild
plants.  This was something done previously by the women.  Then the
Two-Spirit one discovered a new plant called corn and learned to grind
the corn kernels into a fine meal.

Turquoise Boy ground the plant seeds for the men, cooked their food,
and wove fabric for the men's clothing.  Turquoise Boy satisfied their
sexual needs as well.  Meanwhile, the women stayed on their side of the
river and continued gathering the wild plants for food.  They survived
quite well because everybody knows women can always take care of
themselves.  Will laughed to himself.  Would my mother have thought
that?

Each group, the men and the women, continued in this way in the
separate villages for four years.  However, the women missed Turquoise
Boy greatly.  For her part, Turquoise Boy was happy with the men, but
she missed doing things with the women.  Turquoise Boy, after all, had
both masculine and feminine sides.

So one day Turquoise Boy went across the river and convinced the women
to take the men back.  The women were still uncomfortable about killing
animals, so Turquoise Boy created a ceremony which called the animals
spirit into a council.

Turquoise Boy begged for the forgiveness of the animals for the men's
killing them.  She explained how the humans needed their flesh for
food.  The animal spirits were so impressed with Turquoise Boy's
arguments they decided to forgive the men.  They did not mind
sacrificing an occasional animal if the children were really hungry,
but they did not want the men to slaughter them disrepectfully.

Two special animals who were not afraid of the men volunteered to
supply the needs of the people for both meat and clothing.  Their hides
grew long hairs which Turquoise Boy learned how to weave into beautiful
clothing.  These two kinds of animals agreed to be sacrificed in their
maturity in exchange for the promise of the men to protect them and
treat them with respect until their meat and hides were needed.  The
women agreed to brush out the loose hairs on the animals bodies so they
could be cool in the hot desert climate.

And so, after all these agreements had been made, that is how the Dineh
domesticated sheep and goats.  These two animals have been the most
important sources of wool and meat for all our people even up to this
present generation.  Following our ancestors practices, we treat them
respectfully.  And, even when we slaughter them, we say a prayer of
thankfulness to the animal's spirit for allowing us to use its meat,
wool, and hides.

In all those agreements, it was Turquoise Boy who did the negotiations.
Because of her spiritual power to communicate with animals, she served
as mediator between the animals and the humans.  Because she could see
things from both the men's and the women's points of view, Turquoise
Boy was the most effective go-between between the people as well.  She
helped both the men and the women to see it was not good to live
separately and that they would both benefit from coming back
together.

Following Turquoise Boy's instructions, the men hunted less and acted
more respectfully toward the animals.  The main occupation of Dineh men
from that time on has been as herders of the sheep and the goats.  The
women, meanwhile, learned to grow corn.  They did the farming.  And
that is how Dineh society as we know it emerged with sheep herding and
farming as our way of life.  It was a prosperous way of living, one
which could not have come about without the help of a Two-Spirit
Person.

Since that time, Dineh people have always lived together with lots of
relatives.  We do not believe married couples should live by
themselves, since that is not good for their children or for them.
Children need lots of relatives around, and so does the wife.

Whenever a young man wants to marry, he moves in with his wife at her
family's home.  That is the way the Dineh have always lived since the
time the men and the women were reunited.  If a marriage breaks up, our
ancestors decided, the couple should not make it a controversy.  Either
the wife tells the husband to leave her family's house, or the husband
simply moves out.  He goes back to live in his mother's house, or into
his new wife's house if he remarries.  The original wife and her
children stay together, as they have always lived, in the household of
her mother.

The children are raised by their mother's whole family, not just the
father and mother.  We all love them and help them develop.  When I was
a child, I certainly loved my mother and father, but I felt just as
close to my mother's sisters and brothers, and to their mothers and
fathers.  They were all my parents.

I pity the poor children of the Hairy Faces who have only one mother
and one father to raise them.  Maybe that is why they are so strange.
They do not have enough love in their childhood.  Or maybe it is
because they do not get enough sexual pleasure as they mature.  People
need love and sex to develop into whole persons.  She paused in her
story.  It was very dark now.  Light came out of the door of the hogan.
Will could hear Nadleh chanting softly inside.  Dezba got up from her
seat on the ground.  Her legs must have been stiff from sitting so long
because at first she hobbled about in a little circle.  Will started to
jump up to assist her.  But she waved to him to remain where he was.

Stay, she said.  She pulled herself up to her full height as she
regained her usual limberness.  She walked over to the entrance to the
hogan and bent down and looked inside.  Will could see her face
illuminated in the golden light of the tallow lamps.  She looked
ancient.  He half thought that perhaps Dezba had been around in the
days when Turquoise Boy was teaching the people how to live.  Of
course, he knew that couldn't be possible.  He also knew that the
stories about Turquoise Boy weren't real history.  Or at least he
didn't think so. He remembered that his father had thought the story of
Adam and Eve was real.  Will thought the story of Turquoise Boy made
better history anyway.  Dezba came back over to Will.  She stooped and
looked him straight in the eye.  That is why I worry about Nadleh. 
There is too much seriousness in her life these past years.  She is not
getting the love and sex she needs to develop.  She is still so young. 
Dezba took her seat on the ground again facing him.  This morning,
Nadleh asked me about you, Will Lee.  His heart began to race.

She said she does not understand you.  She said she has never seen a
Hairy Face spend so much time watching her.  The soldiers never treat
us like people.  They never look at us except to gauge how much work
they can make us do.  I told her that you probably find her attractive.
The old Indian woman laughed.  Nadleh turned red when I said that--just
like you are doing now.  He wondered how Dezba could see his face in
the dark.  Am I blushing that much?  Will could feel himself how hot
his cheeks were.

I told her to try out making love with you.  I told her I would like to
know how the Hairy Faces have sex.  Will was so flustered he didn't
know what to say.  Dezba chuckled over his embarrassment.

What did Nadleh say?  he finally answered.  He was trembling, and it
was hard to talk.

Nadleh said she was waiting for the return of Segundo's spirit.  She
said she could never love another, especially a Hairy Face.  Will felt
a surge of disappointment--but also relief.

But I don't believe her, Dezba continued.  It is not good to hold onto
the dead.  Dineh people are afraid of ghosts who roam the earth.  We
have to do our ceremonies carefully, so their spirits can be released.
They need to go free to become part of the universe.  Dezba waved her
hand toward the sky.

How does Nadleh expect Segundo to come back to her, Dezba questioned,
except by sending her someone new to love and take care of?  Would you
want that to be you, Will Lee?  He didn't know how to answer.  Of
course seemed like the best answer of all.  But he couldn't bring
himself to say that.  If he were an Indian and believed in all the
things Dezba had told him about, maybe that would have been easy to
answer.  But he wasn t. Feeling rejected, humiliated, vulnerable and
confused, he only said, I don't know what you mean.  Then added
hastily, I have to go now.  It's getting late.

There will be another healing for Anrelina tomorrow evening.  I would
like you to be present.  Will you come?

Yes, yes, of course, Will stammered.  Uh, thank you.  *** Just as Will
was approaching the Agent's quarters in the last light of twilight,
feeling more confused than ever and thinking that, as he'd told General
Carelton, he really was ready to get some sleep, he was suddenly pulled
out of his emotional quandry by the approach of a rider on horseback.
It was his friend Timothy McCarrie.

Ahoy, Mr.  Lee, McCarrie shouted, General Carleton said to come get
you.  There's a detail riding out to recapture some Indians that got
away this morning.

You want me to go with you?  Will asked, surprised.

General said you should come, McCarrie answered defensively.  He told
me to wake you up if you were sleeping.  Said you ought to see how it
is with the Injuns out on their own territory.  Will started to retort
that this wasn't the Indians territory by any stretch of the
imagination, but decided to keep the remark to himself.  He didn't mind
being assigned a duty that would team him up with Pvt.  McCarrie,
though this evening hardly seemed like good scheduling.  I'm dog-tired.
I'm not sure I can manage to mount a horse.

C mon then, Will, McCarrie called.  Jump up behind me, and I'll take
you over to the stables so you can get mounted up.  The detail's about
to ride out.

I guess I have to, Will responded, thinking that at least one bright
spot was going to be riding with McCarrie.  He remembered his
life-changing ride with Michael Halyerd.  Here I am thinking about sex
again.  Maybe Dezba had had a good idea.  And if Nadleh isn't
interested in me, well, maybe somebody else will be When Will and
McCarrie arrived at the stables, the detail commander, a lieutenant
named Westerby, explained that a scout had ridden in earlier and
reported seeing a camp of Indians a few miles out from Fort Sumner.
General Carleton's dinner had been interrupted with the news.  He'd
ordered the detail to ride out in the night to surprise the Indians
while they were sleeping.  Will started to argue that just because
there were Indians encamped nearby didn't mean they were renegade
Navajos or hostiles that belonged on the reservation.  But he
understood he was on this assignment as an observer and he ought to
keep his mouth shut, at least for the time being.  Thirty minutes
later, the detail of seven men was topping a rise in the rocky hills to
the west of the reservation. It was dark, but, as Will had discovered
at the stream the previous night, there was enough illumination from
the moon for the riders to see where they were going and for Will to
see the other men.  Among them was one in particular Will kept his eye
on, Pvt.  Ned Johnson. This was the soldier Will had watched the
morning after the flood, the one with the well-developed physique. 
Though Will had never talked to him, since that day he'd always paid
attention whenever Johnson was around.  As they came over the rise,
Will saw that, indeed, three Indians were sleeping under the cover of a
flat rock that projected from a low cliff near the ground.  Smoldering
embers nearby gave evidence of a fire.  Some sparse branches had been
pulled up to camouflage the camp.  This suggested they were trying to
avoid being seen, and that was all Lt.  Westerby needed to declare the
Indians escapees and order them taken into custody.  At Westerby's
command, several of the soldiers lit pine-tar torches that blazed in
the night suddenly, changing the atmosphere from one of peace and
serenity to one of fright and alarm.  Reminding himself to remain an
observer, Will held back as the detail charged the Indians meager
encampment.  He saw the Indians suddenly rouse from their sleep and
begin running to escape the Hairy Face soldiers.  None of them appeared
armed.  And so Will was frightened somebody was going to get hurt when
he heard rifle shots and saw that a couple of the soldiers were
shooting into the air to intimidate the Indians.  It wasn't long before
the riflemen had ridden out past the fleeing Indians and corralled them
back toward the hole they'd been hiding in.  Obviously scared and
defenseless, the Indians huddled together waiting for the Hairy Faces
retaliation.  McCarrie hovered near Will.  It was apparent that the
soldier saw his consternation and was staying close to prevent him from
getting himself hurt or from interfering with the Cavalry's
assignment.

Tie em up, Westerby ordered.  Two of the men jumped off their horses
and, holding their pistols on the poor frightened captives, took rope
from their saddles and started to bind the Indians tightly.  One of the
Indians stood up proudly and raised his chin.  He doesn't want to be
treated like a vanquished captive, Will thought, feeling pride for the
warrior.  The Indian said something in his own language and then pushed
the soldier away who'd come to bind him.

He just wants to surrender without being humiliated, he said to Mac,
surmising what the Indian's demeanor meant.

Don't be so sure you can trust em, Mac answered.  They got different
notions from us, ya know.

I said to tie them all up, Westerby shouted.

He don't wannabe tied up, complained the soldier, standing feckless
with the rope in his hand.  Suddenly, as if from out of nowhere, a whip
flashed in the air and cut right across the proud Indian's face.  The
soldier had to jump to get out of the way himself.  Will was startled.
He looked up to see that Lt.  Westerby wielded the bullwhip.  He was
just pulling the whip back to hurl another assault.  The gesture
reminded him of his father that Sunday afternoon in the barn.  Almost
without thinking, he spurred his horse and galloped over to the detail
commander, barely stopping in time to avoid colliding with his horse.
Stop that, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Hey, come back here, McCarrie was shouting to Will.

How dare you!  Westerby snarled.

I'm the Indians advocate, Will said defensively.  You can't mistreat
them just for fun.

Just for fun?  one of the other soldiers rejoined, sneering.  I'll show
you fun.  The soldier pulled his rifle to his shoulder and took aim at
the Indian warrior, who was still standing proudly as the Hairy Faces
fought with one another over him.

No, no, Will shouted.

Hey, Mr.  Lee is the Government Indian Agent, McCarrie said in Will's
defense.

At ease, man, Westerby called out, and the upstart soldier lowered his
rifle.  Then Westerby turned to Will and said through clenched teeth.
Well, Mr.  Lee, you are probably right that we shouldn't mistreat the
damn Injuns without provocation, and this here man has done nothing
except look proud.  He seemed to accede to Will's authority.

But I'll be damned if I'll let some civilian loudmouth like you
interfere with my military duty.  I've got my orders.

Do your orders say to whip these men into submission?  Will questioned
assertively.  Westerby rolled his eyes.  As you were, men he announced.
His voice sounded tired.  Lee, you ride with McCarrie and, Johnson, you
team up with Ralston there.  Put the three Indians on the two horses
and tie the horses together on a long lead.  Let's just head back
quiet-like now.  He added, Mr.  Lee, how ze about you taking charge of
the reins there.  You can lead them in all peaceable.  Will was
surprised.  Westerby had backed down from his aggressive stance, but
then tossed the responsibility for the captives to him.  Well, he told
himself, I can handle this.

If they get away, Westerby inserted a warning, I'll have to hold you
accountable.  He held up the coiled whip as if to punctuate the threat.
With the Indians riding flanked by soldiers, the detail headed back.
Will sat behind McCarrie, holding on to the saddle horn by reaching
around the tall, thin red-head.  He avoided touching the other's body,
but now and then his arm would brush against McCarrie's side.  He could
feel the rib-cage.  This unnerved him, but added a twinge of excitement
to the late night adventure.  With his other hand, he was holding on to
the lead that pulled the two horses the Indians were riding.  Lt.
Westerby was not entirely able to hide his annoyance at Will behind his
military politeness.  After a while, he started chatting with Tim
McCarrie, but then turned the conversation in a nasty direction,
talking through McCarrie to Will as though the greenhorn civilian was
not there.  Crazy how these Government Agents take the side of the
damned Injuns.  Why I remember takin a detail like this out a couple of
months ago to bring in the body of that damn Agent Ayers.  You member
that, don tcha, Mac?  Westerby coaxed McCarrie for a response, it
seemed, just to make sure Will was taking notice.  And, indeed, he was.
This was something he was very interested in.  They're talking about my
predecessor.

You know Ayers was always defending the Injuns, sayin the Navajos were
peaceable at heart.  Well, you know how peaceable ol Agent Ayers found
em.  Westerby guffawed, then explained, as if for Will's benefit, Ayers
had his self an Injun woman.  One day, things musta got a little rough.
Maybe she was resistin his affections.  Anyway, by the time, he'd
finished demonstratin to her what her damn duties were, she was dead.
Had to cut her throat, he did Westerby laughed.

General Carleton ordered Ayers put under arrest.  But then he
disappeared from the reservation, McCarrie spoke up.  He seemed to Will
to be as uncomfortable with Westerby's tone as he himself.

Yeah, then, Westerby spoke louder, reclaiming his right to tell the
story his way, we found Ayers strung up on a cactus like Jesus on the
damn cross.  Injuns musta gone after him for swyvin and kinin their
squaw.  Tied him to a cactus out in the desert and left him to die

These were the misunderstood natives Ayers was advocatin for, the
lieutenant used a word Will had applied to himself only a short time
ago, and them's the ones that killed him.  And killed him something
awful.  Will understood Westerby was warning him about the dangers of
his role as Indian Agent.  He didn't understand why the scorn behind
the lieutenant's manner.  But he could certainly feel the intimidation.
He'd known about Ayers and the Indian woman, but he hadn't known
there'd been retaliation against Ayers.  His flesh crawled as he
thought about the kind of death that poor man suffered.

Hey, Mac, you better warn your friend there not to get too friendly
with the Injuns, Westerby added with a chuckle, as if to announce that
he was getting the last word.  Then he galloped on ahead a little.
Thirty minutes later, the detail rode back into the Fort.  The Indians
had cooperated.  Perhaps they even understood that it was because of
Will's advocacy that they were not bound hand and foot for the
return.

Look, Will, you go get some sleep, McCarrie said, sounding solicitous
for his welfare, as they neared the stables.  I'll put the horse away
for you.  And Westerby there'll take the Indians to the stockade til
General Carleton can get one of the Mexican translators to interrogate
them.  I think you'd better stay out o this.  Shaky as he dismounted,
Will made a point of going over to Lt.  Westerby and shaking his hand.
I'm sorry about my outburst, sir, he said.  But I had my duty, too.
Apparently relieved that Will had apologized first, Westerby responded
to the handshake.  Hard life out here, he commented.  It wouldn't have
to be so hard if you all just thought about what you were doing to each
other, Will thought as he stumbled back down to his quarters.  *** Will
spent most of the next day sitting at his desk attempting to write some
sort of report about what he'd learned from Dezba about the source of
the Indians discontent.  In fact, he stared out the window most of the
time remembering what Dezba had said about Nadleh needing to experience
love again.  He scolded himself for having acted so childishly when she
asked if he wanted to be the one.  What Dezba said about Nadleh is
probably true about me as well.  But Will had never experienced that
kind of love at all He thought about Tim McCarrie and about Ned
Johnson.  He even felt a strange pang of jealousy that maybe those two
knew one another.  He felt lonely and sorry for himself.  He missed
Michael.  He missed Roberto.  Most of all, he realized, he missed his
mother's uncomplicated love.  Will ate lunch in the mess hall.  Then
just after sundown, when the rest of the soldiers had gone in for
supper, he made his way to the medicine lodge.  Will began with a
question for Dezba, one that touched other issues than Nadleh's sexual
availability.  Do the Dineh believe in heaven?  He had been thinking
about his mother.  There was still a hollow place in his heart.

There are many different worlds, the old woman answered, of the Holy
People and of the Earth People.  When an Earth Person dies, we don't
really know for sure what happens.  But we think the life just ends and
the spirit becomes part of the universe again.  Will hoped his mother
was in heaven watching over him.

It is sad for us to lose our loved ones, but if they have lived to old
age, it is best that they pass on.  This is as it should be; otherwise,
there would get to be too many people, and our Mother Earth could not
supply our needs.  Sadness gripped at Will's heart for his mother's
untimely death.

Sometimes, we think, the spirit of the person who has died cannot
escape and becomes an unhappy ghost.  Sometimes the spirit lives on for
a while, watching over its loved ones.  Maybe such a ghost is not so
unhappy if it can manage to pass on the duties or responsibilities that
were left unfinished to someone among the living.  Then it can go free.
The ghost of a mother who has died before her child is grown can be
like that.  Will didn't want to think his mother was an unhappy
ghost.

That is why it is important that another mother, maybe the mother's
sister or her husband's new wife, watch over the child.  Then she can
go.  He hoped someone from among the living was watching over him for
his mother so she could go free.  Maybe this was Dezba.

Dead people are not our business.  The living need to get beyond sorrow
about a death and concern themselves with the living.  That is Nadleh's
mistake.  She is still too haunted by her memories of Segundo.  Maybe
if I could help Segundo go free Then Dezba said something that
surprised him: It seems to me you are like Nadleh.  There is some death
you also have not yet resolved.  He said nothing.  But once again Dezba
had seemed to see right into his heart.  With pain gripping his heart,
he remembered coming to his mother's bedside.  She was so emaciated and
shrunken that she barely took up any space in the wide expanse of
pillows and white bed linens.  In her eyes were pain and weariness.  I
just can't bear this anymore she'd whispered.  Tears had formed in the
corners of Will's eyes.  Mama, you'll be fine.  He's said, mustering
all his courage and manliness to squelch the tears.  He remembered
patting her on the head, as though she were a child who shouldn't know
what was really happening.  Why can't we admit she's dying and I want
to say goodbye?  Why can't I tell her how much I love her?  He'd
struggled to bring the words to his lips, but there were no words.  No
tears.  Just a gnawing emptiness.  Even now, years later, he could feel
that emptiness

Chapter Eight

Dezba gathered up the last of the powder she'd been grinding.  Several
Dineh men arrived, bearing Anrelina on a litter.  Behind them were the
rest of the Dineh who'd participated in the previous healing.  Among
them was Barboncito.  He now looked fully recovered.  Will stood and
followed Dezba and the others into the medicine lodge.  As he settled
himself in the ceremonial circle, Nadleh looked up and gave him a
faint, but slightly knowing, smile.  Will wondered if Nadleh knew Dezba
had spoken with him about the elder's opinion that she should make love
with him.  He avoided Nadleh's eyes.  He felt embarrassed that his
proposal of affection had apparently already been turned down even
before he got a chance to make it.  His heart started pounding again.
He tried to turn his attention to the ceremony that was about to begin.
The sand painting was even more complicated and beautiful than the one
for the previous ceremony.  This time, Nadleh had created several
representations of the long thin figures with ribbon bodies.  Some of
them had rectangular heads, some circular.  Various animals were
represented with the figures.  Surrounding the whole design was the
coiled body of a snake.  The ceremony proceeded similarly to the
previous, though now Anrelina was the only patient.  The old woman
hardly looked to be alive at all.  Nadleh started the singing.  Some of
the men placed Anrelina on top of the design.  After she was resting
comfortably, Nadleh used the colored powders to paint several small
designs on her arms and then on her legs.  Then she took some fine
ashes and gently blew them over the woman's body.  Nadleh next began a
prayer.  She prayed a long time.  Periodically, she interrupted her
prayer by shaking a rattle.  Each time the rattle grew louder and more
insistent.  The singers continued.  There was worry on their faces.
Will guessed the patient was not showing the improvement they expected.
Nadleh did not give up.  She got out the prayer sticks she had earlier
placed around the area of the village and had apparently retrieved
later.  She attempted to place the prayer sticks in the woman's hands.
But again the patient was too weak to grasp them.  At last, Nadleh
stood up and began to twirl the piece of wood to make the buzzing,
singing noise.  She twirled it faster and faster.  Then suddenly the
buzzing stopped, followed by a loud concussion from one of the walls.
Will looked up to see that the cord had broken.  There was a cry of
alarm from the singers.  Nadleh seemed shocked.  Still holding the limp
cord, she bent down and placed her ear against the old woman's chest.
Then she looked up with an expression of defeat and loss.  As the
people in the circle also realized that the old woman had died, they
started to wail and moan loudly.  Dezba fell over the body of her
relative and started screaming and crying.  Even though Will had seen
how close to death Anrelina had been for the past several days, he was
not prepared for the actual passing.  He'd never seen anyone die.  He'd
been kept out of the room when his mother had died, as though death
were something private and humiliating.  He'd never been allowed to
feel the grief.  His father had sternly insisted that his wife's death
was not to be mourned because she was now with Jesus in heaven and the
living should show no sorrow for her eternal gain.  Reverend Lee had
admonished Will that his sadness at her death was an indication of his
selfishness and of the weakness of his faith.  Now, among the Dineh,
Will had seen incredible faith.  He'd watched that faith apparently
heal Barboncito.  And yet even the men were mourning loudly and
profusely--almost overdoing it, he thought--with apparently no concern
that their reaction was selfish or weak.  Even Nadleh was weeping
uncontrollably.  After Nadleh and Dezba crawled away from the body,
each of the others went individually to embrace and cry over Anrelina.
Several of the people left the hogan, only to return a few minutes
later bringing blankets and small items which Will imagined must have
been favorite possessions of the dead woman.  It looked as though they
were preparing the body for immediate burial and that this healing
ceremony was becoming her funeral.  This was such a contrast to any
Christian funeral he had ever attended.  And, of course, as the son of
the pastor, he'd had occasion to attend many funerals.  They'd almost
always been without any feeling at all.  The women, the ones most
likely to let emotions show, had usually had their head and faces
draped with veils to keep their grief private.  Barboncito, the little
man who might also have died if Will had not saved him from the flood,
now came over to him and took his hand and pulled him toward the body
of Anrelina.  Will resisted the pull.  He did not know this woman.  But
Barboncito was insistent.  And so he let himself be led to the body. He
knelt down beside Anrelina and brought his face close to hers, as he
had seen the others do.  To his surprise, at least in his mind's eye,
the Dineh crone was transformed.  Anrelina seemed to look just like his
own mother, or as his mother would have looked had she been Indian.  He
began to cry now.  He felt a hand touch him on the middle of the back.
Somehow he knew this was Nadleh who had touched him.  And with that
touch, he felt the permission he had never been granted before.  Will
could not look away from that face--which was both that of the
wrinkled, brown-skinned old Dineh woman and that of the dear
fair-skinned Southern lady.  He wept profusely.  He remembered how he'd
paternalistic ally patted his mother on the head.  He had never said
goodbye.  And so now he embraced the body of Anrelina as the other
Indians had done.  He held her to him and whispered his goodbye.  He
didn't know if he was imagining things, but he was sure he heard a
voice whisper back in his ear, Goodbye son.  You were the light of my
life.  I loved you, and I know you loved me.  He also knew that there
was a deeper message in those words, that the communication
also--though now without words--went on to instruct him to make his
mother's life worthwhile by making his own worthwhile.  Then he heard
words that his mother could never have spoken, yet he knew they, too,
came from her.  And, in that same whisper, he heard her add, For
Segundo's return.  Will looked up, thinking Dezba must have said that.
But she was nowhere near.  In fact, no one but the dead woman was near
enough to have spoken so intimately.  He looked into her face again.
This time, once again, it was the old Indian woman, lying there dead in
his arms.  He relaxed his embrace and knelt back on his knees.  The
loud wailing had ceased.  Most of the people still had tears in their
eyes, but their faces were composed.  A couple of them were smiling in
exultation.  Will looked around.  The people in the circle no longer
seemed to him Indians, exotic and strange.  They were just Nadleh and
Dezba and Barboncito and the others--all just people, experiencing the
pain and grief that goes with being human and with being alive.  Will
stood up and walked calmly back to his place in the circle.  He watched
as Anrelina's body was wrapped in blankets.  He wiped the tears from
his eyes.  As the ceremony came to a conclusion, Will began to feel
embarrassed for having broken down in front of these people.  What
would they think?  Surely they must have thought my tears pretended.
How could they know what had just happened to me?  They had lost a
relative.  They had reason for tears.  This person lying there dead was
not my relative.  What right do I have to participate in their sorrow?
It was my people who were responsible for her suffering and for the
suffering and death of countless among the Dineh.  Aren't I just a
Hairy Face, intruding where I have no business, trying to weasel into
their lives because I am fascinated with--and sexually attracted
to--their spiritual leader?  And the spiritual leader thinks I'm
off-limits anyway!  What am I doing here?  All of a sudden, he was
ashamed of his show of sentimentality.  He looked around.  Only
Barboncito seemed to pay him any notice at all.  He nodded
perfunctorily to the old man and quickly ducked out of the hogan,
leaving the Indians to their deserved grieving.  He ran most of the way
back to his cabin.  He remembered he had an appointment with General
Carleton in the morning.  Maybe the general is right that I should stay
away from the Indians.  I feel so confused.  *** Will became aware of a
loud knocking on his door.  He pulled himself out of bed and staggered
over to the door.  Lieutenant Bauer stood there with a scowl on his
face.  Oh, my God, I've overslept my appointment with General
Carleton.

The general doesn't like to be kept waiting, the soldier said.  He's
been expecting you all morning.  Will was still groggy.  After the
emotional crisis he'd gone through last night, he didn't see how he was
going to be on his best behavior with the general.

Please offer my apologies to General Carleton, he answered, I'm not
feeling well.  Perhaps I've come down with a fever.  He didn't like
lying.  But the truth was he didn't feel well.  Bauer did not look
sympathetic.  Is that your answer?  he replied.  You don't know General
Carleton.  He doesn't believe in missing appointments.  Or in having
fevers.  The general's never been absent one day from his work at Fort
Sumner.  He doesn't expect others to miss their duties either.  Will
didn't want to get on the general's bad side.  Lord knows Carleton
hadn't asked much of him before this.  What time is it?  Should I come
now? he asked weakly.

It's practically noon now.  You missed the appointment, mister.  The
general's moved on to more important matters, I expect.

Well, then.  Tell him I'm very sorry.  I will go up and reschedule with
him myself.  Now, please, Lieutenant, let me get some rest so I'll be
well for General Carleton later.

Sir, Bauer replied, snapping to attention with a military exactitude
that Will took as another insult to his civilian status.  He closed the
door and collapsed back into bed.  *** The knocking on the door began
again.  Will pulled himself to consciousness from a wonderful dream of
riding horses through a wide open meadow with his mother.  Nadleh was
also there and another Indian whom he took to be Segundo, Nadleh's
husband and bravest of the Dineh warriors.  The knocking was much
softer than before, but just as insistent.  Will grabbed for his watch.
It was after 2 pm.  He had slept another couple of hours.  As he got
up to go to the door, he feared it might be the general himself--who
might be really mad if he'd been expecting him to come up to apologize
about missing the appointment this morning.  Will stopped at the mirror
to smooth his hair so as to make a better impression.  But then decided
it would be better if he looked disheveled.  It would support his story
about being sick.  He opened the door, expecting General Carleton's
visage to meet his.  But, to his surprise, there was a small Navajo
child standing in the doorway.  He looked hardly more than six or seven
years old.  The boy announced, Nadleh at river.  Dezba say you go now.
Yes?  Nadleh?  Why does she want to see me?  Is this about what Dezba
said to her?  But this is the worst of all possible times.  I have to
go see General Carleton in person to apologize and set a time to meet
with him.  And I have to do that now.  I am already late.  What good
would I be to the Dineh as an Indian Agent if I get himself fired? 
What would I do without a job?  But Nadleh wants to see me

All right.  Yes, he said to the boy.  Tell her I have to do something
first, that I'll be there in a short while.  Will dressed quickly, but
took time to shave and comb his hair.  He wanted to impress the
general.  On his way to Carleton's office, he began to worry that
Nadleh might be summoning him to scold him for his emotional display
last night.  What if I've ruined everything?  When he arrived at the
general's office, Will saw the door was open.  He knocked on the wood
frame.  Who is it?  the general called out.  His tone did not sound so
military as usual.

William Lee, sir.

Oh, you.  Well, ah, enter.  Yes, permission granted, the general
stumbled through his usual ritual.  Will started in immediately.  I'm
very sorry about missing my appointment with you, sir, he said.  You
know, I didn't get much sleep last night.  I think I might be getting
sick

Enough, Mr.  Lee, Carleton interrupted him.  I heard your excuse.  Will
could see that the general had a couple of men in his office.  They
were civilians.  These must be the visitors from Santa Fe the general
had mentioned.  Both looked to be prosperous men with flesh on their
bodies.  One had a huge shock of red hair that caught Will's eye in the
dim light of the office.  Carleton continued, I make it point myself
never to get sick out here.  You don't know what kind of doctor you'll
get.  I just refuse to take to the bed, young man.  I would advise you
to do likewise.  But then I'm not your commanding officer

I'm really very sorry, sir.  Can we set another time to meet?  I am
truly anxious to learn from you.  He knew he had to stay on the
general's good side, if only so he could manage to discover the truth
about the general's bad side and so, maybe, help the Indians.  He'd
begun to think that now it was his duty to help Segundo rest and
thereby to free Nadleh from her mourning.  Yes, yes.  As you can see,
I'm busy now, Carleton said.  His tone was almost friendly and
matter-of-fact.  Look, Mr.  Lee, you will have supper with me tonight. 
You will sit at my table.  That will be an honor.

Yes, sir, Will answered relieved.

Come by here about an hour before sunset.  We'll talk, then go down to
the mess hall together.  Now, let me get back to my business.  You get
outa here, you hear.  The general laughed.

Yes, sir, General Carleton.  Thank you, Will answered excitedly.  The
general had actually seemed friendly.  Will imagined that he must be
having success in his meeting with the civilians.  He wondered whether
that would be good or bad for the Indians and for his objectives.  Will
hurried down toward the river.  He was wary of what Nadleh wanted him
for but, he realized, he was also happy.  General Carleton had not
seemed so threatening.  The trouble I'd feared I was in with the
military had just up and disappeared.  Now what kind of trouble might I
be in with the Indians?  When Will reached the banks of the Pecos
River, he saw Nadleh sitting calmly on an outcropping of rock near the
stream not far from the pile of debris behind which Sergeant Peak had
tried to assault her.  Will guessed she was praying to Changing Woman. 
He had come to think that Nadleh was always praying.  She was dressed a
little different from usual.  While she still wore the long traditional
woven skirt, today she had on a brightly colored shirt, and her hair
was braided and tied up with colorful yarn.  He thought she looked
especially handsome.  Again he could remember the form of her body
naked as he'd seen her in the sweat lodge.  He knew that flesh lay just
beneath the bright-colored shirt.  Will was still wary of what she
might want to talk to him about.  Except to give him instructions in
the sweat lodge, Nadleh had never spoken directly with him.  He wasn't
sure how he should treat her.  She was a sacred person.  He bowed
formally as he neared.  Nadleh smiled, gesturing to him to sit beside
her on the smooth rock ledge.  My aunt said you wanted to see me?

I thought you wanted to see me

Perhaps there was a misunderstanding, Nadleh said.  They both seemed
flustered for a moment.  Even so, it is time we talked, you and I.
There is something I need to say to you.  Will could feel the scolding
coming on.

I was convinced of your bravery when you risked your life to help us in
the flood, Nadleh began.  Her voice was more accented than Dezba s, and
her speech a little halting, but she showed some of the same fluency he
had already discovered in the students of John Blewer.  And I was
grateful when you saved me from the Hairy Face soldier.  Dezba believes
you are a good man.  You had ah, qualities that impressed me.  But your
reaction last night to the death of our beloved elder Anrelina Will's
heart sank.  He knew he was in trouble.  convinced me, Nadleh
continued, slowly and formally, that you are, in fact, a Human Being. 
I did not believe it was possible for a Hairy Face to have such
feelings as we Dineh have.  I have never seen this before.  Maybe Dezba
was right when she said you told her you were not a Hairy Face.  Will
was relieved beyond words.  The emotional display that he feared might
have alienated the Indians instead had apparently endeared him to
Nadleh. Of course, when he'd told Dezba he was not a Hairy Face, he'd
been making a joke about being clean-shaven.  He decided not to try to
explain the humor to Nadleh, but he was grateful he had again taken
time to shave before leaving his cabin a while ago.

Your sharing your sadness with us shows you are interested in other
things besides power.  We have seldom seen this in your people.  Your
tears tell me you have known sorrow and that you have experienced death
in your life--as I have.  A person is not alive until he experiences
death and knows sorrow.  But he cannot stay alive if death is always
with him Nadleh looked down into the moving water of the creek.  Her
voice softened.  Dezba tells me I have not yet learned this lesson.

I want to help you, Will answered.  That cry last night really helped
me.  I feel as if I've dropped some load I'd been carrying.  He had,
indeed, felt lightened somehow today.  His feelings seemed closer to
the surface.  More than ever, he was conscious of his attraction to
Nadleh.  He remembered Dezba's frightening suggestion.  Today it didn't
seem so frightening.  In fact, he found he wanted to reach out and
touch Nadleh.  He couldn't help being aware of the Indian's physique.
When she moved her shoulders, the colorful shirt she was wearing pulled
tight, hinting at the muscles beneath.

Dezba has told you about my husband, Segundo?

Yes, he answered.  I'm sorry.

Segundo would have said that if you want to help, you should arrange
for the people to return to our homeland.  We should leave this place.
It is full of ghosts.  So many people have died here.  It is not good
to stay at such a place.  It is because of one of these ghosts our aunt
died.  She lost her medicine bundle in the flood.  A ghost stole it.
Will wanted to talk about Dezba's suggestion that she get over Segundo
by finding new love.  But he certainly didn't know how to bring this up
to Nadleh.  Nor was he sure he wanted to.  What if she were to say no
directly to him?

What is a medicine bundle?  he asked, instead.

A leather pouch that contains sacred tobacco, stones, and, maybe, a
small carving.  These are blessed so they will give spiritual
protection.  If you lose your medicine bundle, your life is in danger,
especially from ghosts.  Will was disappointed to hear Nadleh talk like
this.  It sounded so superstitious.  Anrelina had obviously died of a
disease, perhaps because she'd been weakened by her ordeal during the
flood.  He knew ghosts had nothing to do with it.

Dezba told me the Dineh do not believe in afterlife.  How can there be
ghosts?

It is true we do not believe, as your people do, in life after death.
The Hairy Face preacher

Pastor Sheldon?

Yes, Nadleh answered.  This Pastor Sheldon told us that spirits go up
into the sky where they live forever or else are sent down under the
earth to burn in fire.  We do not believe that.  A person's spirit is
absorbed into the universe after they die and leave their body.  But,
for several months, the spirit may remain near the place where they
died.  The spirit must be honored by respectful treatment, or else it
may become unhappy waiting to become one with the universe.  Nadleh
bent down and picked up a small stone and tossed it into the slow
moving water of the creek.  See, she said, the stone goes down.  But
the ripples continue.  The person dies, but the spirit is like the
ripples. If the person died without proper respect or if he died
unhappily, the ripples in the spirit-field may be unhappy.  The purpose
of our rituals is to restore harmony to the spirit-field whenever it is
disrupted. The harmony of all beings in the web of life is the reason
we are alive.

Did Anrelina die unhappy?  Will asked.

She died while we were doing a ceremony, so I do not think so.  But
even the ghost of a good person like Anrelina can do harm if it is not
given the proper respect.  In this strange place, far from our sacred
homeland, we cannot find the right plants and precious stones to offer
the spirits to make them happy.  That is why there are ghosts roaming
here and why so many more Dineh continue to die.

But scientific knowledge is advancing every day, Will interjected. 
I've heard about a new discovery the doctors call germs.  They say
these tiny things, so small we cannot see them, are the real cause of
disease and death.

That may be so, Nadleh said.  The invisible forces are the truly strong
forces in the universe.  These germs may be invisible because they are
ghosts.  Will wanted to object that Nadleh was mixing science and
religion, but he held his tongue.

I am distrustful of what the Hairy Face doctors think they know.  They
do not know about the healing powers of the plants we Dineh use in our
ceremonies.  Dezba says you want to learn the ways of the Dineh, Will
Lee.  Then you will have to stop thinking like a Hairy Face.  Only then
can you understand my people.  The Hairy Faces know a lot about the
surface of the world here.  Nadleh ran her hand across the rock they
were sitting on.  But they do not know there are many other worlds
beyond this.  They do not know about the harmony of life.  They think
they know everything, but how can that be?  They do not know about the
spirit worlds.  Even that Pastor Sheldon, who was said to be a priest
of the Hairy Face god, did not know about the spirit worlds.  He
insisted his god and his heaven and hell all existed in this world.
That is silly.

Tell me about these other worlds, Will asked.  Is that where Changing
Woman resides?  Why does she speak to you more than to others?  He
hoped Nadleh would talk about herself.

From my earliest childhood, I was blessed with two spirits.  This is
why Changing Woman speaks to me more than to other people.  Changing
Woman is one of the Holy People.  She lived before the world was
created.  She herself was not created.  She always is, and whether the
world is created or destroyed, she will always be.  Yet she takes an
interest in helping us Earth People.  That is why we honor her.

We don't know why she does this, since we are such a small part of the
universe.  But she does.  There are many, many other worlds out there
which we cannot see.  Some are too big.  Some are too small.

One day a Hairy Face may invent a machine to look at those worlds; then
you will believe what I am telling you.  But Hairy Faces do not believe
what they cannot see.  We Dineh know of these things through our faith,
and we do not need to see them with our eyes.  It is far beyond the
human power of knowing.  Will wondered if Nadleh might be right that
some future scientist would invent a machine that would show these
other worlds.  He knew about microscopes that allowed scientists to see
tiny bugs, like these things they called germs.  He doubted Nadleh had
ever heard of microscopes.  Who would have told her or her people about
such things way out here in the New Mexico Territory?  Yet she seemed
to know about things too small to see, though she had it mixed up with
ghosts.  But for all his skepticism, Will was impressed that the Dineh
wisdom appreciated what human beings did not know.  What a contrast
with the all-knowing certitude of his father and the religion of the
Bible that said everything humankind needed to know was there in those
pages.  He had discovered there was a lot the Bible had said nothing
about--like the existence of the Indians or of Two-Spirit Persons.
Funny, Will thought, I wouldn't have wanted to sit and talk with my
father about religious matters.  But I'm really interested in what
Nadleh has to say about such things.

I wonder if Changing Woman is the Dineh name for the god that is in the
Bible, he said.  Did Changing Woman create this world?

No, Nadleh answered.  She left creation to other spirits.  She had more
important things to do.  She always existed.  But she was the first one
to bring another into being.  This is why we honor women, because they
are able to bring life from nothing.

Changing Woman was the first mother.  She has given birth to many
children.  One time when she came to visit this world, she gave birth
to twins whom we call Monster-Slayer and Child-of-the-Water.  They are
the ones who shaped our world.

I have thought that Changing Woman might also be the mother of the
Hairy Face god, but I cannot know about this.  Pastor Sheldon said that
the Hairy Face god created a world for the Hairy Faces.  He had a book
which said that.  Maybe the Hairy Faces came from that world.  But why
did they leave that world and come here to the Dineh world?  Do you
know about this?

Well, I know from that book, the Bible, that God created Adam and Eve
in the Garden of Eden, but then later he threw them out as
punishment.

Why did he do that?

Eve ate an apple from the tree of knowledge.  God had forbidden that.
Nadleh looked quizzical.  Why?  Apples taste good.  What kind of god
would not want people to eat apples?  Besides, I've seen Hairy Faces
eating apples.  Is this why their god made them leave their home and
come here and upset the Dineh?  Are all our problems with the Hairy
Faces due to eating apples?

Well, actually, Will tried to explain, the first Hairy Face to come to
the New World, to meet the Indians, was a man named Columbus.  He came
because he was trying to get to the Indies for the spice plants, but
got lost.  He thought he was in the Indies.  That's why we call the
people he met here Indians.

Where are the Indies?

On the other side of the world.  Nadleh was smiling, but looked
exasperated.  I am glad to know this Columbus was looking for spice
plants.  But don't the Hairy Faces understand this is not the Indies?

Yes, of course.  But everyone still calls you Indians.   This Hairy
Face Columbus went to the Indies, but ended up on the other side of the
world.  And Hairy Faces still call us Indians because he made a
mistake.  Maybe he wanted to go to the Indies for those plants because
he thought your god would throw him out of his home if he ate them
there.  Nadleh laughed, and Will joined in.  Put that way, it did sound
ludicrous.  He realized there was so much more he could tell Nadleh
about human history, but it might all sound just as silly: the
Pilgrims, the gold rush, the War Between the States.  Will thought that
in the same way his explanation of history couldn't make sense to
Nadleh because Nadleh didn't have enough grasp of what the world was,
so Nadleh's explanation of the spirit worlds couldn't make sense to him
because he didn't have enough grasp of what spirit was.

Tell me about Monster-Slayer and Child-of-the-Water.

This world was created by both of them, she said.  Child-of-the-Water
created everything in the seas and rivers, and Monster-Slayer
everything on the land.  By the time Turquoise Boy brought the people
and the animals up to this world, Monster-Slayer had already brought
order to the land.  His efforts to defeat many monsters are told in our
sacred songs.  These creator gods sometimes did battle to help the
people against monsters and bad luck.  Their stories are quite
exciting.  But it is their mother, Changing Woman, that we turn to for
blessings.  She is far more important than the creator gods or the
other Holy People.

I did not understand when Pastor Sheldon told us about the Hairy Face
religion why he did not say anything about God's mother.  I asked him
about that.  I remember he said only Papists honor God's mother.  I
would like to know a Papist.  They seem to know better about gods.

Well, Will replied--how am I going to explain the difference between
Protestants and Catholics?-the Bible does not mention God having a
mother.  It says God was there first.

Ha!  Nadleh said proudly, as though she'd just won the argument.
Everybody has a mother.  What kind of man would deny his mother?  Your
god must be very mean if he would not even tell about his own mother.
That is why I think his mother is Changing Woman.  She must be very mad
at him for not telling the Hairy Faces about her.

Maybe you're right.

How did this god create the Hairy Faces?

He made the first man, Adam, out of dust to be just like him.

Well, if he made Hairy Faces to be like him, that explains why they are
so mean and don't respect women or respect the sacred places of the
Earth.  But how could he make the first man?  How many men can make
another man?  Your god must really be a woman in disguise.  Maybe he is
a Two-Spirit and does not know it.  Will liked Nadleh's suggestion that
God was a Two-Spirit Person.  But if so, he wondered, why was all of
Christian civilization so dead-set against people like himself or
Nadleh who wanted to make love with someone of their own sex?  He
smiled to think how his father would react to the suggestion that God
needed to make love with another man.  Maybe they got the story of
Sodom and Gomorrah wrong, he joked to himself.  Maybe God had come to
town looking for someone to make love with, the same way I had come to
that little town at the end of the railroad tracks and met Roberto.  It
was probably the church leaders that set fire to the town, not God. 
Maybe God didn't stop the fire because he was too busy having sex with
the handsomest man in Sodom.  Will laughed at his crazy idea, thinking
he was beginning to think like a Dineh.

If God and the first man were both males, how did they create the first
woman?  Nadleh pressed on.

God formed Eve out of one of Adam's ribs.

Woman came from man?  Nadleh sounded incredulous.  No, everybody can
see man comes from woman.  Perhaps the Hairy Faces do not understand
this.  They must have strange ideas about sex.  It is obvious to us
that no one would be here if not for our birth.  Now I see why the
Hairy Faces are so casual about women's power.  Because of their power
to give birth, we honor our mothers above all.  This is why women are
superior.  What other Holy Persons do the Hairy Faces worship?  Maybe
one of them is God's mother, and they do not know it.

We, uh, they, Will corrected himself, worship only one god.

Pastor Sheldon told us that.  But I did not believe him.  Why would all
the other Holy Persons be ignored?

Well, the Bible says God is a jealous god and wants us to worship him
alone.  Nadleh looked disgusted.  Jealousy is a very childish emotion.
Only young people are jealous.  We laugh at adults who act that way.
How can the Hairy Faces worship a god like that?  Everyone knows
different gods have different powers and different concerns.  Our
religion allows each person to choose which Holy Person to pray to and
which ceremony to practice, depending on the particular need of the
moment.  This is the way of the Dineh which honors each individual.

The Hairy Faces talk about liberty, but we Dineh live it.  We do not
have generals and presidents like you do.  No one has the right to make
others go against their own wishes.  This is because no one person has
all knowledge.  Each of us is an imperfect being with only a tiny
amount of awareness.  We do not know enough to make others do as we
wish.  What if we are wrong?  Each person must make his or her own
choices in life.  I do not see how the Hairy Faces can talk about
freedom when they are always trying to make others do as they want.
That is the opposite of freedom.  Nadleh was so obviously right that
Will didn't know how to answer.  There was no answer.  It bothered him
that their conversation was staying so philosophical.  He was
interested in learning about the Dineh religion.  But he was more
interested in learning about Nadleh.  He wanted to reach out to the
Indian.  He could feel an ache in his chest and arms.  He wanted all
this religious and cultural difference to go away.  He wanted Nadleh to
stop being a sacred person.  He wanted him to be just another man, like
Roberto Calderon, with whom he could share the dear love of comrades.
But he didn't reach out.  They were interrupted by the approach of
Dezba.  Nadleh, she said, it is good that you talk with Will Lee.  I
believe he can help you with your grief.  I saw last night how he let
go of his tears.  She turned to Will, Perhaps Nadleh can learn from you
how to let go of her tears.  Will blushed.  He felt embarrassed by this
talk, though, of course, a few minutes ago that's what he had been
hoping Nadleh would talk about.  You set it up so we'd meet out here,
didn't you, old woman?  he thought.  Well, thank you.  I guess  You
are going to search for roots now?  Nadleh asked Dezba, apparently
speaking English for Will's sake.

Barboncito and the children are waiting, Dezba answered.  To Will, she
said, We are going into the desert to gather sacred plants and medicine
herbs.  Would you come with us?  He looked at his pocket watch.  It was
just after two.

Are you going far?  he asked.  I must be in General Carleton's office
an hour before sunset.  That gives me about three hours.  Is there
time?  Will was going to be sure he was on time for his appointment.

We will not go far, Nadleh answered.  Barboncito is still weak.

Well, let's go then, Will announced.

Chapter Nine

The expedition consisted of Dezba, Barboncito, and Nadleh, along with
two other adult women, who apparently did not speak English because
they kept to themselves away from Will.  Then there were six children,
two girls and four boys.  One of them was the boy who'd come to Will's
door to deliver the message from Nadleh.  At first, the children
gathered around Will.  He supposed they'd seldom seen a friendly Hairy
Face.  But after a short while, they ran ahead, seemingly eager to be
on their way.  The expedition moved slowly.  Neither Dezba nor
Barboncito walked very fast, though it seemed to Will that both of them
were much more agile and had more stamina than most of the
older--white--people he'd known in his life.  He walked along by
himself, most of the time, halfway between the adults and the children.
He was enjoying the playful sounds of the boys and girls up ahead of
him.  After his several long and deep conversations with Dezba, and
then with Nadleh, the lightness of it all was refreshing.  Though they
obviously did not intend to exclude him, the adults spoke in Dineh
among themselves.  At least some of the time, he was sure, they were
talking about him.  He was content not to comprehend.  He hoped all of
the Indians would be agreeing with Dezba in urging Nadleh to develop
more of a friendship with him.  Walking along through the desert, his
face shielded by a wide-brimmed hat Dezba had fished out of her hogan
for him, he mused over his discoveries about the Navajo.  The Dineh
existed without a government, without laws, without all the trappings
which his own people associate with civilization.  Yet he could see
that they kept their society operating, along with a strong sense of
identity as Dineh.  They seemed to value individual freedom above all,
yet each person strove to cooperate with one another in order to
maintain harmony among them.  Will had been raised to think freedom and
democracy were an invention of the Founding Fathers and the signers of
the Declaration of Independence.  But here these supposedly primitive,
savage people in the West were living these ideals.  It appeared to him
that what made their society work, what enabled them to hold on to
their identity, despite all the drastic changes affecting their lives,
was their religion.  The Dineh seemed so different from what he had
been taught about Indians.  He'd never have guessed they'd be so
religious.  But what a different sort of religion!  In keeping with
their freedom-loving approach to life, the Dineh religion did not
appear to be one of rules, of Thou Shalt Not , but of stories and
ceremonies.  Their ceremonies were held to help people, to provide them
with the sense they were not alone in their struggles, but not to
impose orthodoxy or doctrine or rigid morality.  The ceremonies helped
them protect their society and helped the society protect each person's
religious independence.  Is it a sign of the superiority of their
religious beliefs over those of European Christianity that the Dineh
seem to live in peace with their gods, while we Christians seemed
always to be going to war in the name of ours?  They walked a long way,
farther from the fort than Will had been since his arrival.  They had
to go so far, Nadleh explained, because all the area near the fort had
already been stripped by previous foraging.  But then soon Dezba
discovered a patch of edible plants, and the small band stopped to pick
the sparse leaves and to dig up the roots.  Before digging, Nadleh said
a prayer in thankfulness to the spirit of each plant for allowing them
to take its body for food.  One of the boys discovered a bird's nest in
a bush, and the children gathered round to eat the eggs.  There were
only three eggs and six children.  So one of the adults intervened to
distribute these three to the youngest children and to assure the older
three that there were lots more nests around.  She got them to make a
game of finding more eggs for everybody.  Meanwhile, the three lucky
ones each grabbed an egg, tipped back his or her head, expertly cracked
the shell with their teeth, and then slurped down the raw contents.
Will saw the enthusiasm with which the children devoured the eggs as
evidence of the lack of nutrition in their government rations.  While
the children went in search of more birds nests, the adults continued
digging up the roots.  After they'd gathered a small basketful, they
took a break from their work.  They sat down, huddled together in the
shade of a tall thin cactus.  Nadleh handed Will a piece of the root
they'd dug up.  Following the others example, he bit into it.  It
tasted wet, crunchy, sweet, and only a little sandy.  It quenched his
thirst.  He was musing on the simplicity of the Indians lives, their
reverence for life and for all things natural and free, when suddenly
he heard screams.  The adults jumped up and began to run in the
direction of the frightened cries.  He could see the children running
toward them, and behind the children, pursuing them, four horsemen. 
The riders, who looked to be Mexicans dressed in light cotton pants and
shirts and all wearing sombreros to shield their faces from the sun,
were almost upon the children, two of them twirling lassoes.  Will
started running, too.  He saw he was only a few feet from one of the
children, a little girl about nine or ten, when suddenly a lasso fell
over the girl's shoulders and she was whisked up into the air.  Out of
the corner of his eye, he saw that another of the children--it was the
boy who'd come to his door--had also been lassoed.  Will remembered his
own rescue by a rider with a rope when Michael helped him escape
Charlotte Franklin's humiliation of him.  And when he looked up at the
horseman who had lassoed the little girl, who was now dangling,
screaming, near the horse's hooves, he could not help but think of
Roberto Calderon.  But this Mexicano had a very different look in his
eye.  This was not a rescue, and this was not a friendly cowboy.  The
Dineh adults had by now grabbed the other four children and were
shielding them as they ran from the marauders.  Will could see that
Nadleh was going after the boy who, unfortunately, had already been
pulled up onto the saddle and into the rider's arms.  Nadleh had
grabbed hold of the Mexicano's leg and was trying to pull him off his
mount.  Will shivered to think what might happen to the little girl if
the horsemen managed to make off with her.  Boys stolen like this might
be enslaved as workers, but girls were more likely to be used in
unthinkable ways.  He could not allow this to happen.  Following
Nadleh's example, without allowing himself to even think, he ran for
the girl. Fortunately, she was still dangling from the rope and had not
been pulled up into the rider's grasp.  Will sprinted right up to the
horse and grabbed hold of the rope.  He quickly twisted it round his
forearm and gave a hard jerk.  He heard the girl screaming.  The rope
must be cutting into her skin.  He saw the rider struggling to regain
his balance and jerked again.  When Will looked up at the rider this
time, hoping to see him tumbling from his horse, he saw instead the
barrel of a pistol aimed right at his eyes.  Simultaneously, he heard a
shot and then one of the other horsemen yell out: No!  El es un
Americano. Vamos.  The gun was little more than a foot away from Will's
head.  He jerked at the rope again, still trying to unseat the rider. 
The horse bucked suddenly, and the gun fired.  He was shocked by the
explosion, but the bullet had missed him.

Yo dijo no, shouted the other man whom Will took to be the leader of
the raiders.  Perhaps the banditos feared retaliation by the U.S.
Calvalry which they knew would never happen so long as they only
attacked Indians.  But a white man was something different!  To
emphasize his command not to shoot the American, the leader fired a
warning shot toward his henchman.  The bullet hit the horn of his
saddle, much too close for the rider's comfort.  Infuriated, the near
victim shouted at his compadre, Puto.  Then fired wildly in his
direction.  The leader of the group responded abruptly, Silencio.  And
then--quite deliberately--he shot the man right straight in the chest.
As the rider, who was still in the tug o war with Will over the little
girl, fell from his horse, the rope came loose from his hand, and Will
fell over backward, practically on top of the girl.  He feared for a
moment he must have been shot.  But then realized it was the horseman
who had been hit.  Apparently, he'd been executed by his own bandito
leader, perhaps in punishment for insubordination or out of some
animosity between them that had been waiting to flare up.  At any rate,
the man was dead, and the immediate threat to Will and the Indian child
was ended.  Will rolled over and saw that the little girl was dazed and
disheveled from her ordeal, but she was unhurt.  In fact, she'd already
managed to get to her feet and was standing over him bawling at the top
of her lungs and wiping at her eyes with both hands.

Oh, thank God, Will exclaimed aloud.  He could see that the other three
horsemen had turned and were galloping away, leaving the body of their
friend behind.  The Dineh adults, with the children huddled about them,
were clustered about ten feet from him.  When he looked again, he saw
they were standing over another body lying flat on the ground.  It was
Nadleh.  Ashock went through him.  Oh, no, he cried.  He jumped up and
ran over, oblivious to the pain where the rope had burned his forearm
and where in his fall he'd skinned and bruised his hands and legs.  The
Dineh women were weeping, one especially hard.  She was pulling at her
hair with both hands in a gesture of desperation and grief.  Looking
around, Will saw that the boy whom Nadleh had run to rescue was nowhere
to be seen.  And Nadleh was flat out on the ground.  Oh, my God, the
first shot must've hit Nadleh, and the raider got away with the boy. 
As Will reached the cluster, he saw Nadleh raise up on one elbow.  She
assured everybody she was unhurt, but he could see that her skirt was
torn and stained with blood.  Dezba was kneeling beside her checking
her wounds.  Will was concerned, but relieved.  What happened?  he
asked Barboncito, as the little girl ran over to one of the women who
was crying and laughing and exclaiming in gratitude for the child's
safety.

Banditos, Barboncito answered angrily.  We are so vulnerable on this
reservation here in the desert.  If it is not the Comanches, it is the
Mexicanos.  They attack us to take whatever we have.  They steal our
children for making slaves of them.  We should not have brought the
children.  Since the soldiers took our weapons, we cannot defend
ourselves.  This is all part of our curse.  Barboncito also spoke
English, but he had the strongest accent of the three Dineh leaders
Will had come to know.  Though he could not understand a word of Dineh,
he had become familiar with the sound of the language.  When Barboncito
spoke English, his words carried the intonation and inflection of the
native tongue.  Will had to pay close attention to make out the
meaning.

The boy , Barboncito said, anguish radiating through his voice, they
took the boy.

The boy is Barboncito's great-grandchild, Dezba explained.

I'm sorry, Will said.  I wish I could have helped.

You did help, Dezba corrected him.  You saved our great-granddaughter.
Will knelt down beside Nadleh and took her hand.

It is only a skin wound, Nadleh announced.

She is hurt more than she says, Dezba interjected.  But with Nadleh's
medicine powers, she will heal quickly.  The bullet appeared to have
grazed the leg just above the knee.  There was lots of blood, but the
wound did not look deep.  Dezba tore away a strip of cloth at the
bottom of Nadleh's skirt.  She wiped away the blood, then started to
wrap Nadleh's leg to stanch the bleeding.  Nadleh said something to her
in Dineh, and she paused to hunt through the basket of roots and
medicinal plants they'd gathered.  Dezba took some of the leaves,
crushed them lightly in her hand and then placed them against the wound
and wound the bandage tight.  Nadleh tried to stand up, but her face
twisted in pain.  Dezba said something in Dineh.  Will imagined she
must have told her to rest.  Though, of course, he did not know any of
the Indians very well, Will was confident that Nadleh would not like
being a patient and would certainly minimize her injury.  The children
were all crying over the loss of their friend, but they rallied to
Nadleh's assistance.  They gathered several longs sticks and wove a
travois out of the rope Will had wrested from the New Mexican rider. 
Dragging the litter behind them, the Indians would be able to carry
Nadleh back to the settlement without her further injuring her leg.

We should return now, Barboncito said.  The banditos may come back.  He
was holding the small basket of tubers and a few bunches of leaves
they'd gathered.  What a meager harvest for so much effort--and at such
a cost!  Will started toward the fallen Mexicano, but Nadleh told him
to stay away.  The bandit had obviously been wounded fatally.  Even if
he were not dead yet, it would be only a matter of time.  There was
nothing the little band from the reservation could do to help him.  Nor
would they be inclined to.  He was, after all, the aggressor.  If he
hadn't been shot by his own leader, no doubt it would be Will's body
lying there on the desert awaiting the buzzards to clean the bones.

Stay away from him, Nadleh said urgently.  That ghost will be very
unhappy.  It could bring terrible misfortune.  We must leave this place
right away.  As they gathered together and prepared for the return,
Dezba spoke: Our friend Will has helped us once again.  He endangered
himself to save the Dineh.  We are in his debt.  One of the other
adults translated Dezba's speech, and the whole little band buzzed in
agreement.  They all reached out to Will to pat and stroke his arms and
shoulders in a sign of gratitude and affection.  Then they spoke among
themselves, and a couple of them began to wail--in grief for the loss
of the boy.  Will himself felt very uneasy.  He was glad to have saved
the girl, but he felt so helpless now.  What can I do to help them get
the boy back?  How can I accept their gratitude when they've suffered
such a loss?  He was proud of himself for having acted to rescue the
little girl.  But he realized he only did so in imitation of Nadleh. He
was again amazed at her strength and courage.  She had clearly attacked
an armed man.  The little band made its way home much more slowly than
they'd come out.  Pulling the litter that bore Nadleh slowed them down
quite a bit.  Both Barboncito and Dezba trudged dispiritedly.  The
group had to stop frequently to allow them to rest and to adjust
Nadleh's litter.  Even Will couldn't walk as fast as usual.  His hands
were skinned up, and he limped with the muscle in his right buttock
aching with every step.  He was still emotionally shaken by his near
brush with death.  He had forgotten entirely about his appointment with
General Carleton.  Dezba complained that now another area for foraging
had been contaminated.  We can never come back, she said.  The ghost of
the Mexicano will haunt the land for many years. Not only do they
threaten our physical safety, these raiders poison the spirit-field. 
Will was skeptical of the Navajos superstitions, but he certainly
recognized the hardships the raiders imposed on the Indians. He walked
along beside Nadleh, occasionally trying to make conversation, asking
how she was feeling, if this or that hurt, or if she were feeling
faint.  At one point, when the group had stopped to rest and change
places dragging the litter, Dezba came back and lifted Nadleh's skirt
to examine the wound.  Will stood over her looking on. He was quite
alarmed to see that fiery red tendrils shot out around the laceration. 
Will recognized that as signs of blood poisoning.  He was concerned
that the plants they'd put into the wound had done this.  He felt
Nadleh's forehead.  She seemed hot to him.  He raised an alarm. But
Nadleh told him to calm down and trust Changing Woman and the spirits
in the sacred plants to complete the healing.  She told him she needed
to rest and advised him to go talk to Barboncito.  Following Nadleh's
gentle scolding, Will took the opportunity to talk with the old man who
was the titular chief of the Navajos.  Occasionally consulting Dezba
for English expressions and allowing for Will to suggest words,
Barboncito haltingly explained how the people had ended up at the
Bosque Redondo.

Five winters ago, the Hairy Face general, Carleton, arrived.  He gave
orders that our neighbors, the Mescalero, should be killed wherever
they were found.  Many of the Mescalero fled to the south into Mexico.
Those who surrendered were brought here to Fort Sumner, like it was a
prison.

We were alarmed at Carleton's brutality.  We decided to send
representatives.  Eighteen of our people came to meet with him.  We
thought he would see our sincerity and believe we wanted only peace.

I was one of those who went to see him in Santa Fe.  We told him we
would forgive the Hairy Faces for what happened at the horse race the
year before at Fort Defiance.  We only wanted peaceful relations.  But
Carleton told us the Dineh must leave our homeland and move to Fort
Sumner.

We were shocked.  We told him we had no desire to leave our sacred
lands.  We told him that Fort Sumner was in the lands of the Comanches,
and if we went there, the Comanches would be angry and would attack
us.

We told him that if we left our homelands, Changing Woman's power to
help us would be weakened, because it was not meant for us to live
elsewhere.  We would not be able to locate the medicinal plants which
grow only in certain places.  Without our sacred medicines, we would
weaken and fall victim to ghosts and disease.

We told him all these things.  And each of these afflictions has
befallen us just as we feared.

General Carleton would not change his mind.  He ordered the Dineh to
move to Fort Sumner and to learn the ways of the Hairy Faces.  Or else
our people would be exterminated.  We could not figure him out.  Why
would he want to do a thing like that to our people?

Changing Woman told Nadleh it was because Carleton thought there would
be gold in our lands, that yellow rock which makes Hairy Faces act so
crazy.  Our homelands were given to us by Changing Woman

Canyon de Chelly?  Will interrupted, remembering bits of the stories
Mac McCarrie had told him.

Yes, it is a magical place where we still find the traces of our
ancestors.  It is so beautiful.  We should never have left there.

We made Carleton many promises that we would keep peaceful relations
with the soldiers and that we would stop raiding the New Mexican towns
if the soldiers would stop the New Mexicans raiding us, stealing our
horses and our children.  But he told us he did not believe our
promises.

It was the same issue we always brought up.  Which the Hairy Faces
always ignored.  As many times as I have talked with the Hairy Faces, I
still do not understand how they can expect us to have peace as long as
our children are being stolen and enslaved.  There are thousands of
Dineh slaves held by the New Mexicans today.  No one can deny it who
has eyes to see.

But Carleton refused our offer.  The only choice he gave us was to go
to Fort Defiance and wait to be transported to Fort Sumner.

After having a council together, the others asked me to make a speech.
I was chosen not because I have any more power than any other Dineh,
but because I can speak in English.

What happened?  Will inquired.

In the final meeting with him, I told him I was not a violent man and
had no desire to make war on the Hairy Faces.  But I told him that if
he continued to insist we leave our sacred lands, we would have to
resist.  I said, I will never leave my country, not even if it means I
will be killed.

General Carleton said, Move or we will pursue and destroy you.  We will
not make peace on any other terms.  Either you will move to Fort Sumner
or you will cease to exist as a people.  There can be no other talk on
this subject.

Hearing his words, we got up and walked out.  I cried as I went from
that meeting.

From that time onward, our settlements were attacked by the soldiers.
Kit Carson, who had been our friend, turned against us and at General
Carleton's command led the soldiers into our canyon.  Our bows and
arrows were no match for the Hairy Face guns.  We felt lucky if our
warriors managed to hit one or two soldiers.  Our sentries warned us
when an attack was coming so we could flee and hide in the rocks.  The
soldiers did not fight better than we did, but they destroyed our
hogans and our food supplies.  They burned our cornfields, cut down our
orchards, and stole our sheep and horses.

Nadleh performed a ceremony to ask Changing Woman's advice.  All we
wanted was to be left alone.  Changing Woman told Nadleh we should send
a raiding party to stampede the soldiers horses.  Without horses, they
could not attack our settlements.  This plan worked.  And we felt great
success.  Nadleh was honored for her vision and her bravery, along with
some of the other young men and women warriors who rode in the raid.
But afterwards, the Hairy Faces brought more horses and kept them
protected inside the forts.  They had so many guards.  That is why we
could not win.  The Hairy Faces always had more horses and more
soldiers to replace those who were lost.  There are just too many.

We could not believe the cruelty of the soldiers.  Whenever they killed
a Dineh, they would rip off the hair on the top of the head.  We Dineh
do not like to touch the body of a dead person.  We would never scalp
someone.  The Utes and some other tribes do this, I know, but we
consider such a practice barbaric.

That the Hairy Faces did this only made us resist more strongly.
However, we were weakened by the lack of food.  As patrols rode into
our settlements, shooting everyone in sight, we often had to leave
behind the elderly people, the pregnant women, and the sick.  When we
returned later, we would find bodies mutilated or burned to death.  One
time I saw the body of a pregnant mother.  Her belly had been slashed
open and the little baby pulled out of her insides.  It was lying there
beside her with its head cut off.  Will quivered with disgust at that
image.

It was a horrible time.  Sometimes, as we would be hiding in the rocks
while the soldiers searched for us, a small child would begin to cry.
The mother would be forced to hold her hand over the little one's mouth
so the soldiers would not discover us.  I saw babies smothered to death
this way.  The idea of a mother having to kill her own baby is so
repugnant to us we can never forget it.  Those who were not killed were
rapidly starving to death.  We hardly had any clothes left.  Many froze
or got sick in the winter.  We were afraid to build fires, because the
soldiers might see the smoke.

We had no choice but to surrender.  We sent a delegation to General
Carleton, who promised us that if we agreed to move to Fort Sumner, we
would be fed by the government and well cared for.  He promised we
would have peace and plenty.  We hoped our time of troubles had come to
an end.  Thousands of us survivors came into the fort.  Will's mind was
swimming with the image of all these tragedies.  He had no idea the
people had undergone such hardships.  He had thought their plight was
having to work at Fort Sumner.  Now he realized this was just the last
in a long series of humiliations, injustices, and sufferings.  He
understood that from the white settlers point of view, the Indians were
the enemy.  The settlers had been the subject of atrocities on the part
of Indians.  He had read about such things in the newspapers.  He
realized what the papers had failed to say was that different Indian
peoples behaved differently.  Back East, they were all just lumped
together as Indians.  He thought of Nadleh's joking about how silly it
was that Columbus called them all Indians.  This had turned out to be
no joke.

Since we surrendered, Barboncito continued, it seems everything has
only gotten worse.  There are terrible diseases here that kill our
people; the Hairy Faces have brought us this sickness they call
syphilis.  Our medicine does not heal it.  Our children are stillborn
or worse

Others of our people starve.  You have seen how we have to search this
desert to find what few edible roots there are.  This is not a
bountiful area like our homeland.  General Carleton keeps telling us he
is trying to get the Great Father in Washington to send us more food,
but the rations the soldiers pass out to us are sometimes full of
maggots.  We cannot eat such filthy, infested food.  It makes people
weak.

Why don't you grow more crops here?  Surely that would help, Will
suggested.

Over and over we've tried, Barboncito answered, his voice sounding
weary.  But the soil here is poison.  It is the spirits way of telling
us we should not be in this place.

After we surrendered to the forts, there were so many Dineh arriving
there was not enough food.  General Carleton told us he had requested
more rations, but day after day people starved while we waited for the
food shipments.  We heard some of the government officials did not
agree with General Carleton's plan to move us to Fort Sumner.  We did
not know what would happen to us, but by this time we were so weak from
hunger we could only sit and wait.  Mostly, we mourned for all our dead
relatives.  That mourning has never ended.

Our people spent the winter at Fort Defiance and Fort Wingate near our
homelands.  They were filthy, overcrowded places.  Once spring arrived,
General Carleton announced we must make the long walk to come to the
Bosque Redondo Reservation here at Fort Sumner.  He promised anyone who
could not walk would ride in wagons.  But when the wagons arrived,
there were not enough.  Many of our old and sick were forced to walk.

Every day we marched, from dawn to dusk.  I have never been in such a
long walk.  The spring weather was unusually cold, and each night
people froze to death.  The next morning we would have to leave them
where they lay without a burial.  If a person could not keep up and
stumbled and fell, he or she was left there by the roadside to die.  I
even saw a soldier kick an old woman to try to get her to stand up and
continue marching.  He finally stopped kicking her only when he saw she
had died.  We were leaving behind us a trail of unhappy ghosts who were
not honored with the proper ceremonies.

After we had walked for many days, we reached the big river the Hairy
Faces call the Rio Grande.  I had never seen so much water.  It was
spring, and the river was wide and deep.  The soldiers went across on
horses to pull ropes from one side to the other.  The current was so
strong some of the horses were carried away.  When they got the ropes
tied on both sides, they used them as guides to float the wagons
across.  The old people in the wagons were terrified, since few Dineh
had ever seen such a river.  Once the wagons were across, they told the
rest of us we would have to hold onto the ropes and pull ourselves
across in the water.  We could not imagine doing such a thing.  But we
had no choice.  The soldiers forced us.

I saw several mothers trying to help their children.  If the child lost
its grip, the mother would let go of the rope to catch the child.  Then
both of them were washed away.  There was nothing the rest of us could
do to help them.  None of us knew how to swim.  We could only keep
pulling ourselves along the rope to try to get to the shore, our tears
adding to the flowing water.

Our troubles seemed to go on without relief.  During the entire
journey, New Mexican slave raiders would sneak into our campsites at
night and carry off children.  We could hear them screaming for help,
but there was nothing we could do.  The soldiers never tried to stop
the raids.  And we did not have the strength to fight.  Sometimes when
I listened to a child's screams, I thought their future as a slave
might be better than to continue going through the sufferings that were
befalling the Dineh.

By the time we finished the long walk and arrived here at Fort Sumner,
over three thousand more of our people had died.

How many of you are there now?

It is only a guess.  I would say fewer than seven thousand, Barboncito
answered after a moment's thought.  There were many more than twelve
thousand before we surrendered.

Oh, God, Will said, I had no idea things were so bad.  I need to learn
about this

It is good that you know these stories, Will Lee, the old Indian
interrupted.  But my spirit is weary now.  Let us talk no more of these
things.  We are liable to attract the ghosts that are roaming in the
desert.  Will respected the old man's wish to forget about these
terrible memories.  He walked on in silence for a while beside
Barboncito, then let himself fall back alongside Nadleh's litter.  She
seemed to be sleeping.  Will did not disturb her, but he noticed that
now and again the travois would catch on a rock or branch.  This never
wakened Nadleh, and Will began to worry.  He reached out and felt her
forehead again.  She seemed to be burning up with fever.  He tried to
rouse her, but she did not respond.  He shook her shoulder, still no
response.  He lifted her skirt, being careful not to violate her
modesty.  The wound was fiercely inflamed.  At that point, he
panicked. Stop, he shouted.  Nadleh's unconscious.  We must do
something.  Will felt a terrible fear that Nadleh was dying.  He
couldn't let that happen.  He needs water.  We've got to give him
water, he yelled in his panic.  Everyone in the little party had indeed
stopped walking.  Dezba came back to look at Nadleh.  She'll be all
right, Dezba announced. But we must get her home soon.  As Dezba spoke,
Will realized he'd called Nadleh by the masculine pronoun.  I think we
should give her water, he said, correcting his choice of genders.  How
about the roots? Let's squeeze some of the water out of the roots we
gathered.  Dezba and the others did not seem as alarmed as Will, but
Dezba agreed it would not hurt to give her some of the root, and she
gently pressed a broken piece of the wet tuber to Nadleh's lips.  At
first, Nadleh did not respond.

Please, Nadleh, take some of the root, Will called.  He stroked her
face and head.  Then, to everyone's surprise, Nadleh opened her eyes.
She chewed some of the root from Dezba's hand.  Then she spoke, in a
very clear, strong voice.

I have been talking with Changing Woman, she said.  She gave a piercing
glance toward Will.  She told me all is well.  She promised to heal my
wound.  It is all over now.  See, she said, pulling up her skirt to
expose the bandaged wound.  The inflammation and red tendrils of what
Will thought had been blood poisoning had subsided.  The leg looked
practically normal.  Will was amazed.  He reached out and touched her
forehead.  If there'd been any fever before, it was gone now.  Her skin
was cool to the touch.  It was a miracle.  Nadleh reached up and took
his hand in hers.  Changing Woman told me that she has sent you to us,
Will Lee.  She said your bravery in saving our daughter today was
proof.  Nadleh looked right into his eyes.  The expression on her face
was very soft.  She looked almost radiant, in spite of her ordeal.  You
have green eyes, she said.  Will's heart began to pound, but this time
it wasn't from fear or panic.  *** As the little band trudged into the
camp, with Nadleh walking as though no bullet had ever grazed her leg,
the last light of the orange sunset was fading.  Will had missed his
appointment with General Carleton.  But this time, I know, I've got a
good reason.  Will bid the Indians good night.  He promised to come to
the settlement in the morning.  Then he sprinted as fast as he could to
the mess hall.  Looking dusty and bedraggled and out of breath, Will
burst into the dining room.  He went straight to the head table where
Carleton was sitting.  As he approached, he saw there was an empty seat
at the table across from the general.  Carleton looked up at him with a
scowl.  It's about time, young man.  You were supposed

General Carleton, I'm sorry, Will blurted out, the New Mexicans have
attacked the Indians.

Damn, Carleton exclaimed.  As if I didn't have enough to worry about
Well, where have you been?

I was with them, sir.  We went on a walk out in the desert to gather
sacred herbs.

Sacred herbs!

Yes, sir.  Carleton looked around at his fellow officers sitting at the
table.  He looked back at Will who was still panting from his run.  Did
they chase you in here?

Oh, no, sir.  I ran here as soon as the Indians got back safely.  I
didn't want to keep you waiting.

Well, that, indeed, is a fine sentiment, young man.

I'm sorry, sir.  But this was an emergency.  Shouldn't we do
something?

Are they attacking now?  Carleton asked.  For the first time, a tone of
alarm sounded in his voice.

Oh, no.  The attack was out in the desert.

I've warned the savages not to go far from the fort.  How do they think
we can protect them?  Carleton said exasperated.  Was anyone killed?

Yes, sir.  One of the raiders was shot

Did the Indians do this?  Carleton interrupted.  Will sensed the
general was looking for an excuse to blame the Dineh for the sins of
their attackers.

Oh, no, sir.  The leader of the raid shot his own man.  It looked like
a quarrel between the two of them.  The man who was killed had tried to
shoot me.

Well, I see he didn't succeed.

Thank God.  But one of us, Nadleh the uh, --he had never tried to
identify Nadleh's role in the settlement before-uh, the high priestess
was wounded.  And they stole an Indian boy.  Will was not altogether
happy with his choice of the term high priestess, but at least it sound
official and important.  But you are safe.  Well, that's good.  You
must be hungry.

Sir, Will disregarded the general's concern for his appetite. 
Shouldn't we organize a search party?

Search party?

Yes, sir.  To rescue the boy.  The New Mexicans stole one of the Navajo
children.

Oh, yes.  Well, Mr.  Lee, it's gotten dark outside.  I'm sure the boy
will survive.  Maybe the New Mexicans will teach him how to work

But what are we going to do, sir?  Will pressed.

I think we're going to have dessert, young man, Carleton answered.
Friends of mine from Santa Fe have been visiting.  They brought me a
tin of chocolate.  The cook's baked a cake for the officers.  You know,
Mr.  Lee, you're not exactly an officer, and so I'm not bound to
include you.  But I'd invited you to sit at my table tonight.  And in
spite of your rudeness in being late and coming to dinner dressed like
well, like that, he said.  I see you've endured something of an ordeal
out there.  I'm sure you'd enjoy a piece of cake.

No, sir, Will blurted out.  I mean yes, thank you.  But, sir, what are
we going to do about the Indians being attacked and the boy stolen into
slavery?

Well, yes, you're right.  We must do something, as you say, Mr.  Lee.
The general beckoned to his adjutant.  Lieutenant Bauer, make a note of
this.  I am hereby issuing an order, effective immediately, that none
of the Indians are to go beyond sight of the guard posts  He looked
around the table.  I think that will suffice, he said.  There were
titters from the officers.  Will realized he wasn't going to get a
search party formed.  Of course, how could I have expected to?  Hadn't
I heard Barboncito's story?

Oh, and, Mr.  Lee, that includes you.  I don't want you out there
either.  Don't you remember what I told you?  There'll be hell to pay
in Washington if I have to explain how I lost another civilian Agent.

With all due respect, sir, Will replied.  I don't think that's what's
needed.  The reason the Navajos go out so far is to search for food and
medicinal herbs.  I've seen what they're rationed.  Nobody could live
on that.

Damn it, man, don't you think I'm trying, Carleton yelled back in
sudden anger.  I've spent the day negotiating with the traders and
filling out extra food requisitions.  You don't know how many appeals
I've made for more supplies of all sorts.  Those stupid politicians
don't have any idea what things cost out here.  They don't understand
how to do business with the local traders.

I do.  I've been working with these men for years now.  I've made
friends with the traders.  If Washington would just send me the money I
need to buy supplies, we could settle all this now.  But instead
they're wasting their money on the salary of yet another Agent to come
out here and harass me and interfere with my work.  Will was cowed by
the general's vehemence.  I can understand how you must feel, sir,
after all your years of hard work.  But I think you've been out West so
long you don't know how people think back East.  He realized he was
letting the general change the focus of the conversation.  But he
hadn't gotten anywhere with his first approach.  I've got to get on
Carleton's good side.  The general motioned to Will again, Sit down,
sit down.  I'd like to hear what you have to say.  But I'm anxious to
get to the cake

Here, here, several voices around the table spoke up in agreement. 
Will pulled out the chair and sat down.  He leaned forward and started
right back in on the conversation, There's all the troubles still going
on in the South, what with the government bouncing back and forth
between trying to help the Southern Unionists and the Black Republicans
and trying to attract the former Rebels back into the Union.  There's
all the fighting going on with the Indians in the Plains.  And now the
talk of impeaching President Johnson

Well, thank you for enlightening me, Mr.  Lee.  Carleton interrupted.
It's good to have news from back East.  And we all know you're a
newcomer out here, fresh from the marble halls of Washington, D.C.

Well, not the marble halls Will answered.  He didn't know how to get
around the general's wall of snide nonchalance.  The discussion was
interrupted by the arrival of the chocolate cake.  After Carleton cut
himself the first piece and the cake was divvied up among those at the
head table, including Will, the general turned back to the earnest
young Indian Agent.  With a forkful of cake poised at his mouth, he
asked, Well, then.  You tell me what to do.  Have you any ideas?

Yes sir.  In fact, I do.  Since you are probably not going to get any
more rations, why not provide an armed guard to protect the Navajos
when they go out foraging?

You must be joking, he shot back.  I don't even have enough troops to
man the fort itself.  Do you think I can send out a patrol every time a
savage wants to dig up some roots?

Then feed them here, Will rejoined quickly.

Haven't you heard a word I've said?  Carleton yelled.  Then he stopped,
took a deep breath, ate another bite of his cake, then moaned, I wish I
could feed them.  After the Navajos gave up those valuable lands, after
the great success of my campaign, I could not agree with you more.
Christian charity requires us to provide them adequate food, clothing,
and shelter.  I've tried, believe me, I've tried.  Will tasted the
cake. It was good.  He hadn't had chocolate in a long time.  He'd
forgotten how much he missed it.  But he felt guilty enjoying such a
delicacy at a time like this.

Sir, Will spoke up, it looks to me like you have one other choice.

And what is that?  Now Carleton's voice had lost the smugness.  He
actually sounded as though he were interested in Will's suggestion.
Will could feel the weight of responsibility the general must have felt
on his shoulders.  He could almost sympathize with him.  He seemed to
be a man caught between his belief in the westward expansion, his
Christian ideals, and his miscalculations about how much his grand
experiment would cost once the Indians surrendered.  Will did not think
General Carleton was deliberately trying to kill off the Dineh, and he
did seem to feel a frustrated responsibility for them.  Yet Will could
not let himself forget this was the man who was behind the subjugation
of the Dineh.  If the things Dezba and Barboncito had told him were
even half true, Carleton was ultimately responsible, however
unwittingly, for thousands of deaths.  Well, what's your idea?
Carleton prompted.  Will gulped, then said as forcefully as he could
muster, Provide the Navajos with enough arms to protect their families
from attack, sir.  Carleton raised up out of his seat as though he were
going to stand up and announce the suggestion to the entire fort.  Then
he sat back down.  He turned his right shoulder toward Will and lay his
forearm across the table casually and leaned forward as if to enter
into serious discussion with him.  He said, at first very softly and
seriously, Are you crazy, man?  Are you addle pated from the heat?
Carleton's voice was rising in pitch and volume with each word.  Do you
know what you are saying?  Carleton sputtered, These people want to
kill every one of us.  Here we are, a few white soldiers, surrounded by
the fiercest fighters the Army has encountered west of the Sioux.  The
Navajos have run wild, causing havoc throughout the Southwest, ever
since civilization reached these lands.  The Spanish and the Mexicans
have been fighting them for three hundred years and had never been able
to subdue them.  They would kill every white settler or trader or
rancher or God knows who else who came near their settlements.

For the decade and a half before I assumed command out here in 62, the
savages attacked wagon trains and white settlements practically with
impunity.  My God, man, it was only after my campaign and my daring and
heretofore untried strategies that the Navajos were removed as a threat
to the white race.  Now we can live in peace in these lands.

It took the planning and leadership of James C. Carleton to bring the
Indians to their knees.  I had to be stern.  At times I had to insist
on the rules being obeyed, even when that meant being, perhaps, a
little merciless.  No matter what else happens, the Union owes me a
debt.  Carleton adjusted his uniform jacket proudly.  He sat back in
his chair.  He looked down at the medals on his breast.  Then he raised
a hostile stare toward Will.  His eyes squinted.  And now you you
nobody you inexperienced fool you you Rebel, you have the gall to sit
here and tell me I should arm the Navajos!

What on God's earth do you think we spent all the money and lives to
defeat them for?  They were just as surely the implacable enemies of
the Union as you Rebs.

Let me remind you of the circumstances of your appointment, young man.
You were supposed to sign the damn forms and keep your mouth shut.  But
every time I've called you to my office to do your single duty as
Indian Agent, you've had some excuse.  Why do you think Jesse McDonald
hired a Rebel pantywaist for this job in the first place?  You and I
both know why they sent you out here

Now don't you go ruining the hard work I've done with your lolligagging
around with the damned savages.  They are subdued, and they are going
to stay subdued.

Wait a minute, just wait a minute, Carleton said, interrupting himself.
Now I understand What do you care if arming the savages will endanger
our military gains?  You don't have any loyalty to the Union.  You're a
damn Rebel infiltrator.

No, sir, no, sir, Will protested strongly.  I am not a Rebel.  I was
just a boy who got drafted into the Southern army when it looked like
there weren't going to be any more soldiers left to get killed.  They
made me go.  I never supported secession, nor slavery.  I'm a loyal
supporter of the Union.  I took the Loyalty Oath.  You can see it in my
personnel file.

My Southern background has nothing to do with this, general.  The War
between the North and the South is over.  I just want to help relieve
the sufferings of these people I was sent here to represent.  Is that
so wrong?  He didn't give the general time to answer, but pressed right
on.  I may be wrong about how to do it, Will admitted.  All I can
really do is apprise you of the problems and ask you to find solutions.
General Carleton, please believe me, I'm not interested in fighting
you, sir.  I'm only interested in resolving problems which the Indians
are experiencing.

Well, all right, Carleton answered.  I guess you are right about your
service in the Southern Army.  You can't be blamed for being born
in--where was it?

Virginia, sir, Will answered, proud that his rebuttal had succeeded in
countering the general's assertion.

Yes, Virginia.  Beautiful country there.  Good people.  I was there as
a boy.  I see, young man, that you just need a little educating about
the problems we've got out here in the West.  That's what I was telling
you the other day.

Yes, sir, Will answered, trying to sound compliant but spirited.  I'm
anxious to hear your ideas.  I'd like to discuss some of mine with you.
Perhaps we can work together for the welfare of everyone.

Perhaps, Carleton answered, not sounding quite as sanguine as Will.  I
just want you to remember that I know how you got this job.  I'm
willing to work with you, but I think the ideas we er, discuss, ought
to be more mine than yours.  Will was relieved Carleton's outburst had
subsided.  He was proud of himself for not getting hot-headed and
perpetuating the animosity.  But what had General Carleton meant by the
circumstances of your appointment ?

Don't I see there's another piece of cake down there?  General Carleton
called out in mock camaraderie.  Let Mr.  Lee here have it.  Will
hadn't eaten the first piece yet.  His stomach was too stirred up.  Let
him have a little reminder of his good fortune in being a loyal white
American, safely protected here by the United States Cavalry with a
roof over his head, good food on the table, and protection from the
savages who'd be very happy to have his scalp if they weren't afraid
I'd blow their heads off if they so much as put a finger on our friend
here.  What a pile of horse shit!  Will thought.  I could tell the
general a thing or two about the Dineh's attitudes toward scalping. But
instead Will replied graciously, I'd be mighty obliged to you, sir.
This cake is the sweetest thing I've tasted since I left ol Virgin-ee.
He hoped the general wouldn't perceive the sarcasm.  After dinner, Will
went to his quarters.  He was exhausted.  All he'd had to eat all day
had been only some of the tubers the Indians had dug up and those two
pieces of chocolate cake.  He lay in bed a long time.  He kept reliving
the episode at the general's table.  What were the circumstances the
general reminded him of?  Maybe the letter from Harry Burnside?  But
that was just an introduction.  He knew he'd been given an advantage in
getting this job by that letter of recommendation.  He even knew he'd
dazzled McDonald and Sheldon with his youthful looks and that they'd
fawned over him like mother hens.  But he'd assumed those were
inconsequential to his being given serious governmental duties.  But
why was I sent out here so fast, with no training, and no instruction
in what the job was to be?  I was supposed to be an apprentice.  That
had made sense.  Well, no matter.  It got me out here.  I managed to
escape Lynchburg.  I couldn't have taken any more of my father. 
Forcing himself to think over every detail, Will tried to relive that
day he'd arrived in Washington, D.C."  and, with Harry's letter in his
pocket, had gone to see Jesse McDonald.  What really were the
circumstances of my appointment He remembered the conductor announcing
Washington City, as he banged his hand against the luggage racks above
the seats to make a clanging noise.  And he remembered climbing down
from the train and joining the stream of arriving passengers still
jostling each other and bumping head-to-head into departing passengers
who were getting on another train.  For a moment in the melee, Will had
gotten turned around and hadn't been sure which way to go to get into
the station.  Then he'd spied a young man about his own age with long
black hair who reminded him of Michael.  Will had noticed him earlier
when he first got on.  Since the black-haired young man was also
arriving, Will figured it would be safe to follow him.  Chances are he
knows better than me how to get out of here.  By the time Will made it
down the platform and through the crowded station and out onto the
front steps, he had lost sight of the black-haired young man.  He was
disappointed to have lost him.  But I'm outside.  The platform area had
been black with soot from the engines, and the station itself was dark
and close. But outside the sun was shining.  There was a haze in the
sky, but the air was fresh, and Will was in a brand new city.  In the
near distance, the newly constructed Capitol dome rose above the
buildings about the station.  There it was, looming over the city just
like it looked in the lithographs in the newspapers.  He stopped cold,
looking out at the city before him.  The street was hardly less busy
than inside the train station.  A plethora of wagons, buggies, men on
horseback, and pedestrians were all competing with one another for
space on the street in the direction they wanted to go.  There was dust
everywhere.  Just to Will's right, two men were trying to keep a group
of pigs together in the midst of all this confusion.  The pigs,
apparently smart enough to know they were being herded to their demise,
kept separating at every opportunity, requiring the herders to race in
little circles around the animals.  And all the while the pigs were
squealing raucously.  It was almost funny, if it weren't so
frightening.  Well, welcome to Washington City.  He felt like one of
those pigs as he stepped down into the stream and joined the throng. 
Will had not witnessed such confusion since the war.  Yet this is not
some city under bombardment or an evacuation center for refugees. 
These people are just going about their daily lives.  With never a word
of greeting to the hundreds of faces passing them by, oblivious of the
others. Each one of them might as well be a lone man walking through
the middle of a cattle--or swine--herd.  Will had to snicker to
himself.  There was just no social interaction.  Not that one could
have heard any conversation anyway what with all the noise of the
locomotives, the hoots of the crowd, the squealing and neighing of the
animals, and the shouts of the barkers and hawkers of wares and
newspapers and candies. He wasn't sure which way to go, and tried to
inquire of the man walking to his left.  He turned to the well-dressed
gentleman and said, Excuse me, can you The man picked up his pace and
walked on, out-distancing Will without even looking over.  Will turned
to the man to his right. Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the
Department of the Interior?  The man didn't brush him off or walk away,
but just looked kind of blankly at him as they moved along with the
crowd and said, Uh, no.  How about Constitution Avenue?  Will hastened
to ask, but the man had already walked away.  Will looked toward the
next person coming up alongside him in the push of people down the
street, but this man looked away quickly enough to communicate his
refusal to get involved in whatever it was Will was up to.  It occurred
to Will that the newspaper hawkers on the sidewalk would probably know
all the government offices.  After all, they worked for the news.  He
walked up to the nearest hawker who was shouting at the top of his
lungs, Extra, extra, read all about it Congressional leaders talk of
impeaching President Johnson.  Will tried to get the man's attention. 
But when the hawker saw Will did not have a nickel in his hand for a
paper, he turned away and ran toward a customer signalling with a coin.
Figuring it would be wasting a nickle to buy a paper just to get to
talk to the man, Will decided he was going to have to handle this on
his own.  He could see which way the Capitol was.  It seemed likely
that government offices would be clustered near there.  And so he set
out in that direction.  Once he got away from the railroad station, the
crowd thinned significantly.  He reached into his breast pocket and
extracted the envelope he'd been given by Harry Burnside.  Several
times during the trip, he'd pulled out the envelope and looked at it. 
He knew perfectly well the name and address emblazoned on it in Harry's
excellent chancery hand.  But he looked again just to make sure.
Indeed, the address was 214 Constitution Avenue N.W. And the street
sign just above him read Constitution Ave.  His instincts had been
right, and he congratulated himself for his urbane skills in getting
around in this new environment.  He had to walk a block to make sure he
was going in the direction of the ascending numbers, then headed on
toward the 200 block.  He found the street numbers easily, but there
was no government office building at 214 Constitution Avenue.  He read
the address again.  Then looked at the street signs.  Only then did it
dawn on him that the address on the envelope had N.W. after the name.
The street signs had a little NE.  Will walked back the other direction
for a couple of blocks and then, seeing a sidewalk vendor, stopped and
purchased an apple cider to drink and a plate of grits and ham.  He
asked the vendor about the address and got a very complicated
explanation of how the city was laid out.

That's pretty confusing, Will commented.

Whaddya expect from government bureaucracy?  the vendor rejoined
derisively.  Will enjoyed the meal which he ate in a leafy little park,
but the vendor's explanation had got him more confused than ever.  When
he set out again, he headed the wrong way around the Capitol and had to
double back on the other side of the building.  But by then he was in
the N.W. quadrant and when he came to Constitution Avenue, he came
right up on the imposing building of the Interior Department.  Will was
tired and dusty.  But he told himself that his big chance was coming
up.  He shouldn't let himself procrastinate.  Besides, he had nowhere
else to go.  At least not yet Will puffed up his chest, threw back his
shoulders and strode down the dark hall of the Interior Department
building toward the swinging doors which he'd been instructed by a
receptionist led to Mr.  McDonald's office.  As he came to the doors,
he saw etched on the glass the words: Office of Indian Affairs.  His
heart skipped a beat.  He'd had no idea this job Harry Burnside had
offered him would have anything to do with Indians.  Remembering
Michael Halyerd's Cherokee heritage, he thought maybe this was just
right, though he also remembered the tales he'd heard of settlers and
soldiers alike being murdered and scalped by wild Indians.  He pushed
open the swinging doors and entered.  Some twenty men were sitting
around the perimeter of the large room.  He walked right up to the desk
in the center.  His eyes roved over the highly polished surface.  Just
at hand was a big appointment book open to today's date.  Will could
see there was a long list of names on the page.  Only a few of them had
been checked off or crossed through.  The others must all be waiting.

I'm here to see Mr.  McDonald to apply for a job.  The clerk gestured
toward a pile of papers at the front of the desk.  Those are the job
applications there.  Fill one out.  Will picked up a form and carried
it over to a vacant seat by a writing desk on which was set up a pen
and ink well.  He noticed that sitting next to him was a man wearing a
clerical collar.  The man looked up and smiled warmly.  Then, after
Will had filled out the form which asked a long series of questions
about professional experience and military service, he took it back to
the clerk.

Well, let's see, the clerk said.  As he scanned the page, the eyes grew
wide.  You served with the Army of Northern Virginia?  His voice rose
with mock incredulity.  You mean to say you were a Confederate Rebel,
er, Mr.  Lee?

I was drafted.  I didn't have a choice.  And I never actually went to
battle, he replied defensively.

You people have caused our country all these years of war, just so you
could keep your niggers to serve you hand and foot!  And then you have
the audacity to come in here and expect the government you tried to
overthrow to give you a job.  Will felt the stares of all the people in
the waiting room.  Excuse me, sir, cuse me, he tried to interrupt the
tirade.  I never agreed with slavery.  I'm the son of a preacher.  My
father had coloreds who worked on his farm, but we didn't have hand
servants like you said.

Ah, Charles, now don't scold the lad.  The man in the clerical collar
stepped up to the desk.  You say you're a preacher's son?  he turned to
Will.

Uh, yes sir.  My daddy's Reverend Josuah Lee of Lynchburg, Virginia.

Well, son, I haven't heard of your father, but I can't believe a
preacher's son would try to take unfair advantage.  Perhaps you could
explain to Charles here why you thought you should come to this office
looking for work.

I've got this letter of introduction, Will said, pulling the envelope
from Harry Burnside out of his pocket.  Charles, the clerk, took the
envelope and deftly opened it with a gleaming brass letter opener.  He
read over the contents.  Oh, I see.  He folded it quickly.  Well, yes.
I'll show this to Mr.  McDonald.  His tone was less abrasive.

You go sit over there, Mr.  Lee.  This'll probably take a while,
Charles added, almost kindly.  Oh, and I might suggest you would make a
better impression than you have so far if you went downstairs to the
washroom and cleaned your face and shaved your beard.  Do keep up
appearances Will looked down at himself and saw that his clothes were
covered with dust.  He rubbed his hand over his face and felt the day's
growth of beard.  When he looked at his hand he saw soot had rubbed off
his chin onto his finger tips.  Will found the washroom easily.  He
took off his jacket and shook it out.  He was alone in the washroom and
took the liberty of stripping off his shirt.  Pouring water from a
pitcher into the basin, he started to wash himself using a bandana from
his carpetbag.  Just then the door to the washroom squeaked loudly. 
Will looked around, embarrassed to be caught half-dressed.  There was
the man in the clerical collar.

Did Mr.  McDonald call for me?

Oh, no, not yet.  There's still a long line ahead of both of us.  It'll
be a while.  I, ah, came down to use the facility.  Ah I'm Pastor Louis
Sheldon, by the way, he introduced himself.

Will Lee.  As Pastor Sheldon selected one of the toilet stalls and
closed the door, he remarked off-handedly, Well, young man, you're
certainly in fine condition.  Good physique.

Uh, thank you, sir.  Will pulled out his razor and shaved hurriedly,
then took a fresh shirt from his bag and modestly covered himself.

Do you think Mr.  McDonald will give me a job with the Indians?  he
asked as the Pastor stepped out of the stall.

Don't worry, son.  Jesse McDonald's a fine man.  If he likes you, he
can certainly do something for you.  A nice, attractive young lad like
yourself shouldn't have any problems.  And, besides, I'll vouch for
you.  I mean, here you are the son of a preacher

Well, thank you, sir.  Will tucked his shirt in and donned his jacket.
Shall we go up?  He wanted to get out of the washroom.

After you, my boy, Sheldon stepped aside.  As they climbed the stairs,
Will allowed Sheldon to catch up with him.  Do you work for Mr.
McDonald?

Not exactly.  I have just returned from a stint of missionary work with
the Navajo Indians in New Mexico.  I'm just delivering a report to
Jesse, ah, Mr.  McDonald.  We're old friends, you know.  Then he added,
Thank God, I'm back to civilization and in my own parish again.  When
they reached the landing outside the Office of Indian Affairs,
Sheldon's voice dropped to a whisper, I don't suppose I could interest
you in a job here?

Huh?

I mean, perhaps you'd like to become my apprentice.  Stay here in
Washington.  I could teach you and then, you know, after a while
perhaps you could go to seminary Will was surprised.  He laughed as he
pushed open the doors and stepped back to allow Pastor Sheldon to
precede him.  Oh, no, sir, I got a hankerin to get out West He hoped
that was true.  At least, it was a good excuse.  He wasn't interested
in a job with the church.  Maybe I can help the Indians, too.  Sheldon
maneuvered them over to two chairs in the far corner.  Actually those
savages are the vilest, most disgusting people--if I dare to call them
people--I have ever had the misfortune to run across.  Now that he'd
cleaned up and they were back in the waiting room, Will found himself
getting sleepy.  The excitement of the last two days was catching up
with him.  He struggled to focus on what Sheldon was saying.  His
eyelids felt so heavy.

But, my God, the Indians don't care a whit about saving their souls.
Every day I patiently laid out the Lord's Word to them, Sheldon droned
on and on.  There was an old Indian woman, the general's maid, who
seemed to want to improve her English.  Why, I discussed theology with
her, and I read the Scriptures to her and to the Indians daily for over
a year.  And you know what?  Will startled.  What?  he said, thinking
he'd been asked a direct question.

Not a one of them asked to be baptized, Sheldon answered his own
question.  They just kept talking about their heathen god.  Can you
imagine anything so ridiculous?  They worship a female god.  I tried to
explain to them the essence of God's nature as revealed in the Holy
Bible.  It is clear that the Creator could not be a woman.  But they
wouldn't pay me any heed.

Uh-huh, Will grunted.  Sheldon started talking about preaching to the
Navajos about St.  Paul's Epistle to the Romans, but Will didn't
register a word of it.  You look mighty sleepy, boy, Sheldon finally
noticed.  Will startled awake.  Oh, I guess, just tired from the train
trip and all.  Please go ahead.  I'm really interested That was the
last he remembered.  The next thing Will knew the room was empty.  All
the men waiting to see McDonald were gone.  The clerk was gone.  Pastor
Sheldon was gone.  He rubbed his eyes, then sat up and stretched.  What
happened?  His heart sank.  What if I've slept through my
appointment?

What a day, what a day.  Will could hear a booming voice coming from
the inner office.  The big door behind the clerk's desk was standing
half open.

First, everything is in an uproar about Congress wanting to impeach the
President.  And then all those people coming through here, everyone of
them wanting something from me I tell you it's just too much.  And
then, Louis, you come in here with your news.

I'm sorry to be adding to your burden, Jesse.  Will recognized the
second voice as that of Pastor Sheldon.  There were wagons rumbling by
outside, and the noise drowned out most of the sound from the office.
In a bit he could make out Sheldon's words again.  handsome lad asleep
out in your waiting room looking for a job.  With a start, Will
realized the minister was talking about him.

What do we know about him, McDonald asked, besides what you learned in
the, er, waiting room?

He's got the prettiest eyes you can imagine, Sheldon said.

And, Jesse, the voice of Charles the clerk interjected, he brought this
letter of introduction from Harry Burnside

Harry sent him?  Well, Charles, let me see the letter.  After a moment,
McDonald exclaimed, Pshaw.  Will heard him laugh.  Then the sound was
drowned out as another wagon rumbled by, this time accompanied by the
squealing of pigs being carried to the slaughterhouse.  Amoment later,
Charles came out of the office and beckoned to Will, Mr.  McDonald will
see you now.  The head of the Office of Indian Affairs was a heavy-set
man, once handsome, but now going to fat.  He was dressed in an
expensive-looking three-piece suit with a brilliant-colored French silk
cravat at his neck.  A thick gold watch chain hung across the bulging
vest, a heavy fob suspended from one pocket.  He told Will that he
truly appreciated the letter of recommendation from Harry Burnside and
that he thought Will would make an excellent apprentice to the Indian
Agent at Fort Sumner.  Will didn't raise any questions.  He didn't want
to jeopardize the job.  He understood there was some sort of favoritism
being extended toward him, perhaps because of the letter from Harry,
perhaps also because of the hungry looks he spied in the faces of the
government officials.  He realized just how lucky he was to get the
appointment.  That clerk who'd scolded him for being a former
Confederate soldier certainly wasn't the only bureaucrat in Washington
who'd hold such a history against a job applicant.  McDonald explained
there was only one problem; they needed him to get out to Fort Sumner
just as soon as possible.  While McDonald and Sheldon explained the
expectations of the job, Charles went out and prepared the travel
vouchers and official documents he was going to need.  By the time the
job interview was over, Charles had railroad tickets, hotel vouchers,
transfers to the stagecoach, and a little spending money--all in an
attache pouch ready for him.  He was scheduled to depart on the morning
train.  Both Mr.  McDonald and Pastor Sheldon offered to put him up for
the night at their own homes.  Will was grateful for the offers and
said so.  But he thought about the men's hungry looks and remembered
Harry's advice and so very politely declined.  As he was leaving the
office, McDonald put his arm over his shoulder and repeated his
instruction: Be sure to send all your reports on the Indians directly
to me.  And pay attention to every single thing General Carleton tells
you.  And you'll do just fine in this job.  So what were the
circumstances?  he asked himself again.  It had all seemed pretty
straightforward.  What had General Carleton meant?  Had he meant
anything?  Hadn the just been treating me the same way my father did,
manipulating me with vague suggestions and guilt-provoking innuendo?
Will drew a conclusion from his recollections.

And if General Carleton is going to act like my father, he resolved
aloud, I will treat him like my father that last week in Virginia.  I
will simply ignore him.  Will wasn't sure how this resolution was going
to work itself out in practice.  But he figured Carleton didn't like
him anymore than he liked Carleton.  If he steered clear of the
general, didn't ask him for anything for the Indians, and just groveled
and flattered every time he couldn't manage to avoid the man, Carleton
would probably be just as pleased to let him disappear.  As far as
changing things went, Will decided, I'll write what I think needs to be
done in my reports to Washington.  And I'll contact Dr.  Steck.  Mr.
McDonald had told him to send his reports straight to Washington.  So
far he had had no contact with Dr.  Steck, his immediate superior at
the Office of Indian Affairs in Santa Fe.  But he would.  In fact, he
decided, whenever I can figure out how to do it, I'm going to go to
Santa Fe and see Steck personally.  Will's resolutions helped quell his
agitation.  He began to think about Nadleh, and he drifted into the
most restful sleep he'd had since arriving at Fort Sumner.  He had a
dream about what life might have been like for the Dineh years ago,
before their time of troubles.  As the dream began, Will found himself
living among the Dineh.  He had been welcomed as a teacher who could
help them learn English and begin to understand the ways of the Hairy
Face culture.  In exchange, the Dineh had provided him a place to live
and taught him how to herd sheep, hunt jackrabbits with a bow and
arrow, and locate water in the desert.  He was lucid enough to know he
was imagining himself to be John Blewer.  The time Blewer spent with
the Dineh outfit, under the leadership of Dezba, had been a wonderful
time.  The people were living in their homeland, unaware that marauders
would be coming to despoil their happiness.  Their ceremonies to
Changing Woman and the other Holy Persons helped them understand and
participate in their proper place in the harmony of nature.  They lived
in warm hogans, food was abundant, the ghosts of the departed were
honored and placated with offerings of herbs and sacred plants.  Life
was good.  Will would have liked to have known the Dineh then, before
his people became adversaries and before he found his loyalties torn.
Back then Nadleh would only have been a youth, though already betrothed
as a sacred mate to the tribe's bravest young man, Segundo.  But in the
dream Nadleh appeared about her age now--as Will had come to know
her--and was dressed in the garments of a woman--also as he had come to
know her.  She opened the flap to her hogan and invited him to come
inside.  As he did, he saw that inside with her was Segundo.  Will
recognized him immediately.  He was dressed as a warrior.  His face was
painted.  He wore only a loin cloth and a beaded vest that opened to
show his hard-muscled chest.

This is my husband, Segundo, Nadleh said.  And then, with a frank
simplicity that surprised Will, she added, My aunt says you should join
us, Will Lee.  The two Indians dropped their garments and knelt down,
facing each other, on the thickly blanketed sheepskin floor of the
hogan.  Will discovered that he also was naked.  Segundo was tall, with
a broad chest and thick arms.  His body was solid.  He was hairless
except on his head and at his crotch.  From the lower patch of hair,
Will could see his penis hanging full.  Segundo's face was long, his
nose prominent, his cheekbones high.  Will was surpised to see he had
green eyes.  Nadleh was much thinner and more feminine, though she
clearly had the chest of a male.  Also to Will's surprise, she seemed
to have the genitals of a female.  He could not see a penis between her
legs.  Segundo wrapped his arms around Nadleh and pulled her to him. 
He entered her as a man enters a woman.  Will felt the surge of sexual
excitement himself as the two joined together, with Segundo driving
himself deep into Nadleh.  They moved rhymthically together; then both
their bodies trembled.  Nadleh cried out in pleasure.  Then she fell
back onto the sheepskin blankets.  Will saw that now Nadleh had a
penis. When he looked at Nadleh, he saw not a woman but a virile and
strong young man.  Now Segundo rose over her on his knees.  He bent
down and kissed her.  Then he took her by the hips and pulled her up
onto his lap.  Again he entered her, but this time an ally as a man
enters another man.  Nadleh looked up at Will and said, Join us.  He
found himself standing between Nadleh and Segundo.  They were both
kneeling, so that their mouths were at the level of his pelvis.  Nadleh
took Will's penis in her mouth--though now he understood in the dream
that Nadleh was a male and was acting as a male, and so he knew he
should use the masculine pronoun.  Segundo licked at Will's testicles. 
His tongue teased the sensitive flesh at the base of his scrotum, while
Nadleh sucked and caressed Will's penis with his tongue.  Then Segundo
rose and, to his surprise, entered Will from behind.  This was
something he had never experienced.  He did not know what it could feel
like.  But he knew himself to be filled with the warrior's maleness and
that that maleness was being pumped into him in this act.  Nadleh
pulled his mouth away and stood up.  He looked deep into Will's eyes. 
Then he looked away from Will's and into Segundo's eyes.  Nadleh's
dream body now possessed both penis and vulva.  Nadleh reached down
and, lifting her testicles, guided Will's penis into the vulva down
below the male parts.  As he pushed inside, he could feel Nadleh's
erect penis against his belly.  Will was pressed between the two of
them, penetrated and penetrating at the same time.  He realized that
he, too, could be both woman and man and that who he really was also
somehow transcended both. Then he felt Segundo ejaculate inside him. 
He felt the force of the warrior's strength push deeper and deeper into
him.  And he also felt Nadleh begin to writhe against him, and he
clasped her torso with his hands and pulled himself deeper into her. 
The wetness of the nocturnal emission on the bedsheets roused him.  The
last thing Will could remember was an image of the three of them
together, three men with their arms and legs intertwined on the
skeepskins of the Dineh hogan. \020Chapter Ten

Will awoke feeling more hopeful and more determined than he had since
he'd arrived at Fort Sumner.  After washing up, he sat at his desk and
composed a letter to General Carleton.  He apologized for the two
appointments he'd missed and for upsetting the general's dinner.  He
called his own behavior shameless, and he flattered Carleton with words
of praise for his military accomplishments.  Then he offered an
alternative to his previous suggestions which he thought the general
would especially like.  Will wrote that we should send a delegation to
the most prominent New Mexican citizens in Santa Fe to apprise them of
the situation and to explain why it was in their interests to keep the
Indians peaceful.  If these leaders prevailed on their own people to
stop the raids, then the Navajos would be pacified, could be returned
to their homeland, and would not require constant surveillance.  He
volunteered to be part of the delegation, adding that this course of
action would allow him to meet with Dr.  Michael Steck, his superior
officer in the chain of command at the Territorial Office of Indian
Affairs.  He also said that he would obey the general's order not to go
out on forages with the Indians or to do anything which would endanger
his own safety, but added that he hoped the general's orders would not
preclude his studying Indian ways and reporting this research to the
bureau he was hired by.  On his way to the mess hall for breakfast, he
took the letter by Carleton's office.  The door to the cave-like office
was closed, but in the next room Lieutenant Bauer was writing at his
desk.

Did you want to see General Carleton?  Bauer spoke up when Will peeked
in the door.

Just want to deliver this letter.

He'll be here shortly.  You can wait, Bauer answered.

Oh, I don't know that General Carleton's going to want to see me first
thing in the morning, he replied.  I just thought a letter of apology
for last night might be in order.

You're probably right, mister, the Lieutenant said.  On both counts.
Will placed the letter in its sealed envelope on the desk.  You'll be
sure he gets this

You can rest assured, Bauer answered.  The soldier seemed surprisingly
amiable.  Relieved he had not had to talk with Carleton directly, but
could let his carefully composed missive speak for him, Will went down
to the mess hall.  He ate ravenously, then returned to his quarters and
started to draft a report about the Indian's vulnerability to slave
raiders.  He planned to write out two copies of it.  One he would send
to Jesse McDonald.  The other he would take personally to Dr.  Steck
when he went to Santa Fe to meet with the New Mexican leaders.  Will
summarized what he had learned from the Indians about their treatment
by the army.  While he detailed the abuses, he was careful to balance
the account by noting the atrocities suffered by white settlers and
soldiers alike.  He emphasized the importance of distinguishing between
the behavior of different Indian tribes.  Comanches, for instance, were
known to be especially warlike, having waged attacks on the Navajos for
centuries.  He acknowledged that the Comanches were a significant
threat to the settling of the territory.  The Navajos, however, he
argued, were basically peace-loving and would not have fought with the
army if they had not first felt themselves endangered and beseiged.  He
questioned why the Navajos had been brought to live so close to the
Comanche lands in nearby Texas.  It seemed to be a tactical mistake to
put the Navajos where their enemies would attack them and where the
U.S. Cavalry would be required to protect them.  Clearly, he argued,
whatever happened in the past, the treatment of these people right here
and now was inhumane and counterproductive.  We're not going to bring
peace to the Territory, he wrote, by putting the Indians safety in
jeopardy, then enslaving them and subjecting them to harsh treatment.
There is not enough food or shelter here for the size of their
population.  Will felt good about the work he'd done.  He liked his
presentation and his cool-headed, reasoned arguments for treating the
Indians humanely and helping them improve their situation with
assistance from Washington so that they would feel grateful and
indebted to the Hairy Faces.  He was careful, of course, never to use
that expression when referring to members of his own race.  By the time
he'd finished his first draft, he was proud of his persuasive writing
style.  I'm certain this strategy is going to be successful!  As Will
was starting to edit the draft, there was a loud pounding on his door.
Startled, he jumped up and threw open the door.  There was Sergeant
Peak.

Letter from the Gen'ral for you, he said.  There was a mean-sounding
chuckle in his voice that suggested Will wasn't going to like it.

Thank you, Sergeant, he answered as he took the envelope.  He started
to close the door, but Peak put out his hand to hold it.  Don't ya want
me to carry your reply back for ya?  he asked.  Be happy t help.  Will
knew perfectly well all Peak wanted was to watch him read that letter. 
That made him all the more concerned about what was in it.  But he was
not going to give Peak the satisfaction.  Thank you, Sergeant, he said
with feigned graciousness, that won't be necessary.

Well, that's up to you, Peak said.

You're quite right, Will answered, and closed the door in the soldier's
face.  He sat down at the desk and carefully opened the letter from
General Carleton.  Penned in the general's own hand, it read: Mr.  Lee,
Your suggestion is silly and naive.  I will not risk my good relations
with the citizens of New Mexico.  Let me remind you that the New
Mexicans have been loyal since we conquered this Territory twenty years
ago.  Which is more than I can say about you.  Their loyalty saved this
territory for the Union during our late bout with your Southern traitor
friends.  The New Mexicans have proved themselves, resulting in my
gratitude and support of them.  The delegation you suggest would be an
affront to their loyalty.I will NOT cross the loyal sons of the Union
for the sake of our enemies--savage or Southern.  As for you, Mr.  Lee,
you can go see your Dr.  Steck any time you want.  He's your superior.
But don't expect me to waste my soldiers time giving you an escort.  If
you choose to go, you're on your own.  I cannot and will not protect
you, if you get my meaning.  And finally, Mr.  Lee, you are welcome to
study the Indians all you want.  I don't give a damn what you do.  You
can go live with them for all I care.  But let me remind you that you
were sent out here to not cause trouble.  I promise that if you provoke
unrest among the savages at the Reservation or if you incite any sort
of skirmish with my men, I will have you hanged as a traitor sooner
than you can say Johnny Reb.

Loyally Yours, etc.

J. C. Carleton

Commander Will's first reaction was that General Carleton certainly
seemed to like the word loyal.  Will felt utterly defeated.  He'd
thought he'd done so well.  This reply simply discounted all his
arguments--and all his groveling.  Carleton was not going to allow
anything to change.  Once again, Will noted, Carleton had made a
reference to why he had been sent out here.  Feeling that his reports
didn't matter a whit and annoyed with himself for having gotten so
optimistic, Will put aside his morning's work.  He had wanted to be
able to go down to the Dineh settlement and announce that he'd arranged
a breakthrough in relations with the Hairy Faces.  Then he would have
earned the Dineh's respect and, he hoped, proven to Nadleh that he
deserved the affection she'd been saving for Segundo.  All those hopes
now seemed dashed.  The dream of making love with Nadleh a stupid
illusion.  Why would Nadleh care about me?  I'm just another Hairy Face
who can't keep a promise.  As he thought of himself as a Hairy Face, he
reminded himself to shave.  At least he didn't want to give any
ammunition to that indictment.  While he stropped his straight razor,
he remembered that Peak had said his predecessor had cut the throat of
an Indian woman right in this room.  He'd probably sharpened the blade
on this very leather strop.  Will thought morosely about just cutting
his own throat then and there.  But it seemed he'd do better to cut the
general's throat rather than his own.  He finished shaving, without
cutting himself either intentionally or unintentionally.  In spite of
his dour mood, he decided to go over to the Dineh settlement.  I want
to ask Nadleh what had happened while we were dragging her back on the
litter.  As Will walked toward the settlement a few minutes later, his
mind was racing.  He kept restating his arguments about why something
had to be done to improve the Indians lot.  He got so angry, in fact,
that he was talking out loud.  He made his way through the screen of
trees along the riverbank.  He could see Dezba with several others in
front of the medicine lodge.  He didn't see Nadleh.  The sight of Dezba
suddenly sent shivers through him.  What good does it do to shout at
the general if nobody is listening?  What good does it do to side with
the Indians if I can't help them?  What am I going to say to Dezba? 
I'd practically promised I'd get help for the Dineh.  Will had wanted
to organize a search party and go rescue the boy who'd been stolen. 
Now he realized he'd just wanted to impress the Indians.  What am I
going to say to Nadleh?  Once again despondent and disheartened, Will
detoured from his route and wandered down toward the creek.  He was
failing Nadleh, failing the Indians.  He felt hopeless.  What am I
going to do? He thought about running off to be a cowboy.  Maybe he
could find Roberto Calderon.  He thought about going back to
Washington, D.C. Pastor Sheldon had offered him a position as an
apprentice.  But, my God, what would I do working for a church?  And
what had Sheldon really wanted?  Will wandered past the spot where he'd
saved Nadleh from Peak's assault and headed over into the pile of
debris and branches that still sat there as a reminder of the flash
flood  He sat down on a broken tree trunk to ruminate about his
hopeless ambitions of freeing the Dineh.  He had his eyes to the
ground, and so he did not see that Nadleh was moving down the riverbank
in his direction.  The only person I'd felt any real closeness to back
home was Michael.  Then I'd felt something genuine, but so brief, for
Roberto the cowboy.  And now there's Nadleh.  These feelings for Nadleh
are so much more complicated. Could I feel the same things for her that
I'd felt for Michael and, particularly, for Roberto?  But how am I
supposed to feel those feelings for a religious visionary or for a man
dressed in women's clothes?  The truth was what Will felt for Nadleh
was sexual.  He felt pleasure just looking at her.  Was this love? 
Friendship?  Lust? Nadleh was a spiritual leader and visionary.  Will
could somehow accept that she'd dress in strange clothes.  Religious
people do that.  But her strange clothes were women's clothes, and
everybody called her by feminine pronouns.  How odd, Will thought, that
what confuses my feelings is that everybody treats Nadleh as a woman. 
What is wrong with me that that stands in the way of my feelings? 
Will's sexual nature had never seemed normal.  Now he saw that was
because what Nadleh would call his spirit wasn't normal.  Something in
him had always wanted more than life was supposed to give.  There was
something in him that rebelled against the life he'd been expected to
live and that sought other realms of existence.  Not knowing what to do
about that rebelliousness, he'd done the opposite: he'd given in, done
what he was told, obeyed the rules, worried what other people would
think. But that was all just because he hadn't known how to escape that
reality.  He'd thought Nadleh could show him how.  In her, he was
seeing the entry into other realms, where lay mystery and adventure,
not rules and prohibitions.  And, to his surprise, his longing for
those other realms and his longing for love and the pleasures of the
flesh seemed to be intertwined.  He remembered Walt Whitman's honorific
devotions to human self-determination.  There is no one, not God,
greater to me than myself is, he recalled the words of the poet.  A
feeling of strength flowed back into him.  He raised his gaze from the
ground and started to get up and continue his trek to the Dineh
settlement.   Don't move, Will heard Nadleh say.  To his surprise,
there was the Indian standing only about ten feet from him, holding
several prayer sticks in her hand.

Huh?  Will questioned.  Nadleh pointed to the ground between them.
There a very large rattlesnake lay coiled.  As Will looked, the snake
raised its head and shook its rattle.

Oh, God, Will called out.  He had always been deathly afraid of snakes.
Almost in spite of himself, he panicked and jumped to his feet.

Don't move, Nadleh said again.  But he had already started to dart
away. As he did, his foot caught in a tangle of roots.  He lost his
balance and fell flat on his face.

Be still, Nadleh reiterated.  Will looked up at Nadleh, hoping she had
a bow and arrow or a club to kill the snake.  But when he looked up, it
wasn't into Nadleh's eyes that he found himself gazing, but right into
the eyes of the snake.  He'd practically fallen right on top of it. The
snake was no more than a foot away from his face.  And now it had
opened its mouth.  Will imagined he could see've non dripping from the
long fangs.  He couldn't take his eyes off the rattler.  He was afraid
to make any movement at all.  He froze, half raised up from the ground.
How long can I hold this position?

Do something, he wanted to scream.  But he didn't dare make a noise. In
fact, he wasn't sure he could.  Maybe my suicide fantasy is going to
fulfill itself in spite of me.  Will could hear Nadleh chanting.  He
thought cyncially that she was starting in on the healing he'd require
after the snake struck him in the face.  He'd seen how much good all
that chanting had done for old Anrelina.  But then the snake stopped
rattling and, in fact, lowered its rattle.  Its eyes swung away from
his, and its head slid down to the ground.  As Nadleh continued to
chant, the snake uncoiled and slithered away into the pile of debris.
Will relaxed.  He let his head fall to the earth.  He took a long, deep
breath.

Will Lee?  Nadleh called to him.  He had started to tremble all over.
But then, sure now that the snake was gone, he jumped up.  How did you
do that?

I did nothing, Nadleh replied.  It was the power of Changing Woman.

Well, I still want to thank you.  Rattlesnakes and me never got along
too good, Will said, laughing--more from the fear still coursing
through him than from anything funny.

Do not offend the spirit of the snake, Nadleh scolded.  It has blessed
us today by its presence.  All his muddled emotions of the morning
suddenly rushed together.  Yeah, right, Will exploded.  I really feel
blessed!  First I was almost shot by some Mexican raider.  Then I had
an argument with the general that could cost me my job--and maybe my
neck.  I was trying to figure out what to do about you.  And now I'm
blessed outa my wits by a rattlesnake.  Will sat back down.

What to do about me?  Nadleh asked quizzically.  But Will wasn't paying
attention.  He'd just realized he'd sat down on the pile of debris the
snake had crawled into.  There was no telling how many snakes were
coiled up around there.  Jumping away from the brush, he shouted, I
don't think I can take any more blessings.  Why am I angry at Nadleh? 
For saving my life?  Maybe I'm angry at myself for not being able to
save the Indians.  What am I supposed to do?  He looked helplessly at
Nadleh, as though she could give him an answer.  He wanted her to reach
out to him.  He wanted to reach out to her.  But for a long while they
both just stood there silently.  Nadleh looked hurt, but she would not
say anything.  Will became anxious with the silence.

What are you doing out here?  he asked.

I am gathering prayer sticks I placed earlier.  I am preparing a
ceremony.

Well, I want to get outta here, Will said, feeling a shiver again.  He
hesitated.  I guess I'll see you later He wanted to ask Nadleh what had
happened yesterday when she woke from her trance and gave him that look
of affection.  But he was afraid.  So he let her continue on her
ceremonial mission, and he continued his walk along the creek, though
now staying far away from piles of debris.  He started to go back to
his cabin, but he didn't want to leave things with Nadleh like that. 
He thought that if he went to the settlement to see Dezba, he'd
probably run into her later on.  *** It only took Dezba a single look
to see Will was troubled.  Sit down, she instructed.  After several
false starts, he calmed down and explained about his confrontation with
the general at the dinner table and about the note Carleton had
dispatched to him this morning effectively eviscerating the plans he
had to help the Dineh. Will still had Carleton's letter stuffed in his
pocket.  He pulled it out and read it to her.  She did not seem to pay
attention to any of it except the general's snide comment, You can go
live with them for all I care.

Come live with us, Will, she said.  Join our family.  We would welcome
you.   I can't do that, he answered, though he didn't know why he said
it.  I am a Hairy Face.  I may not be like the others, but I'm still
one of them.

You helped my people in the flood.  You ran to the rescue of our
daughter.  Hairy Faces do not do this.  You cried when Anrelina's
spirit escaped the body.  You drank the medicine at the healing circle.
Hairy Faces do not do this

Oh, I don't know, he said defeatedly.

Come live with us, Dezba repeated the invitation.  Your skin is
different.  And you speak a different tongue.  But your spirit is ours.
I see it.

What do you see?  Will challenged.  Dezba faced Will.  I see Segundo's
spirit come back to us, she said.

I'm not anything like Segundo.

Segundo had green eyes, Dezba answered.  You have green eyes, Will.

How could Segundo have green eyes?  he asked.  He was an Indian.

Do you remember I told you Segundo's mother was Dineh but she was
stolen from the people's outfit by a Hairy Face trapper?  The members
of her family were outraged that this happened.  This was before the
Dineh had become used to the ways of Hairy Faces.  A party of warriors
went out into the hills and found her and the trapper.  They killed
that man for showing such disrepect to a woman.  Nine months later, she
gave birth to a son, Segundo.

From his earliest childhood, Segundo swore he would prove that Dineh
blood was stronger than Hairy Face.  Segundo was all Dineh.  We knew
that.  The only trace of his Hairy Face father was in his eyes. Segundo
said his eyes were the color of spring.

Nadleh needs another spring, Will Lee.  I know the color of your eyes
reminds her of Segundo s. We Dineh all need another spring.  You, too
Do not give up hope.  Changing Woman will lead you.

Are you saying that Changing Woman wants me to come live with the
Dineh?

That is what Nadleh told me, Dezba answered simply.  Will was
surprised. Maybe he was right that that look in Nadleh's eyes out in
the desert had bespoken love and affection.  He was mulling over what
Dezba had said when Nadleh came up from behind the hogan.  In her arms
were many prayer sticks  In her eyes was wariness.

Tell Will Lee what happened after you were wounded yesterday, Dezba
said eagerly.  Nadleh looked hesitant.

It is right for him to hear this, Dezba said firmly, from your mouth,
Nadleh.  She then excused herself and left Will and Nadleh together.
Neither said anything about the events of the morning.

As I was being dragged back to the settlement on the travois, Nadleh
said, I prayed for healing.  Then Changing Woman reached down and
picked my spirit out of my body and carried me up into the sky on the
wings of a great hawk.  Will remembered seeing the hawk the day he
arrived at Fort Sumner.

We flew high into the air, up through a hole in the sky into the spirit
world.  There I was surrounded by many spirits and ghosts of our
people.  I have been carried there before, but still I was afraid.  I
had to calm my fear and pass beyond it, so I could see what was really
happening.  When I did that by listening to my heartbeat and watching
my breath, the spirits and ghosts all changed into Holy Persons.

Many times I have been taken up through the hole in the sky.  That is
how I was told I was a Two-Spirit Person when I was still very small
and chose the women's utensils over those of the warriors in the Basket
and Bow Ceremony.  That time, my body was opened, and the organs of my
insides were taken away and replaced by crystals and sacred plants.
This was so I would have spirit powers.

But this day no such thing happened.  My body was not affected, but
Changing Woman's words were to me like being cut open.  She said, It is
time for you to leave behind your sorrows.  They keep you from your
work.  Help the Dineh.  Help yourself.  I release you from your vow to
never make love again.

I was shocked.  I said, How can this be?  Our people are still in pain.
Must I not suffer with them?

Changing Woman answered, In your love is the answer to their pain.

I said to Changing Woman, It would dishonor Segundo.

Changing Woman said, You cannot help the people while your heart is
downcast in mourning.  By loving again, you would release Segundo's
spirit.

Whom should I love?  I asked.

The Hairy Face who comes with an open heart, Changing Woman answered.
There was much talk among the other Holy Persons.  They must have been
as surprised as I was, Nadleh said.  Or as I am.  Will's heart began to
race, and his face flushed.

How can this be?  How can I do this thing with a Hairy Face?

And then Changing Woman showed me the color of your eyes, Will Lee.
Segundo had green eyes

Dezba told me.   In those eyes, I saw his love for our people, Nadleh
continued.  In his eyes, I saw the sun rise over the Dineh and restore
us to the lands of our ancestors.  In his eyes, I saw his love for me.
Nadleh's voice dropped.  Changing Woman said, None of this is an
accident.  It has a reason.  Nadleh turned to Will and looked deep into
his eyes.  You have a good heart, she whispered.  She reached out and
took his hands in hers.

I showed you how the pebble falling into the water makes ripples.  I
believe the ripples that went out from Segundo's life reverberated
through the spirit-field and found a place in your heart, Will.  Will
was a swirl of emotions.  He was thrilled by these words and sexually
excited by Nadleh's touch.  He wondered if she loved him or if he were
just a vehicle for her superstitions.  But he realized somehow she was
right.

Come live with us, Nadleh said, repeating Dezba's invitation and
pulling Will close to her, until their cheeks touched.  Nadleh stood up
and, wordlessly, led him to her hogan.  This was not the medicine
lodge, but a smaller structure nearby.  They went inside and pulled
down the blanket covering the doorway.  It was not unlike the place in
his dream where Segundo and Nadleh had bid him join them.  There were
sheepskins for laying out on the floor for sleep.  Inside, in their
private little domain, Nadleh lay back on the sheepskin bedding,
pulling Will down beside her.  Will was trembling with excitement.  I
dreamed last night that I saw you and Segundo making love, he said. His
throat was dry, and he had to struggle to make himself get the words
out.  You invited me to join you.

This will not remain a dream, Nadleh answered.  She began to unfasten
her shirt and then undo her skirt.  I, too, feel such feelings when I
look at you, Will Lee, she said.  Seeing the expectation in her eyes,
Will, also, hastened to remove his clothes.  Naked, they held each
other close.  It seemed there was such excitement and such connection
of soul and heart that they had only to hold each other.  Will felt an
outpouring of emotion and sensation.  He had experienced sexual arousal
before with Roberto Calderon, and these sensations were like that.  But
there was something more, now with Nadleh.  Will's fascination with and
attraction to Nadleh had grown through weeks of confused emotions.  He
had ached with need for Nadleh's touch.  He could feel warmth and
energy flowing into him from Nadleh's body.  The flow of energies was
strongest where their cheeks touched and where their loins pressed
together.  Will's penis had grown full, and Nadleh's full penis was
touching his along its length.  Where the heads touched lightly, a
blaze of sensation blinded him to everything but his passion for Nadleh
and of Nadleh's responding love for him.  Then, still with little
motion, but pulling each other tighter and tighter into their embrace,
they were racked with the pulses of orgasm, clutching hard at each
other.  Nadleh and Will lay together, full of feelings.  This is one of
the most beautiful moments I've ever known, Will said.  He sighed and
turned his head to let his lips brush Nadleh s.

We live in beauty when we walk the way of Changing Woman, Nadleh
answered, giving his comment more mystical significance than he'd
intended.  Later, when Will and Nadleh threw back the flap and came
outside, they found Dezba crouched by the cook fire near the hogan.

I have been waiting for you, she said.  Now I am going to General
Carleton's office, she said.  Will suddenly feared he'd misunderstood
everything Dezba had been telling him.  What if he'd committed some
offense against the Indians, and now their leader was going to go turn
him in?

Uh, what are you going there for?  he asked hesitantly.

To clean the office, Dezba answered matter-of-factly.

To clean the office, Will repeated in dismay.  Are you his maid?  Dezba
smiled and flashed her eyes.

But, Dezba, Will exclaimed.  You are the leader of your people.  You
shouldn't be doing that.

Who else but the leader should be in the general's office?  she asked.
Not only was Dezba not angry with him, she was including him in her
little joke on General Carleton and the United States Army.

I have asked Will to come to live with us, Nadleh broke in.  He has
agreed.  Dezba's face brightened.  I thought as much, she said smiling.
I have prepared a meal for you.  She turned her attention to the cook
fire  Please eat now, she said, gesturing toward the food.  I must go. 
As she stood, she said to Will, You will be welcome among our people. 
She turned to Nadleh, I am glad that you have finally listened to
Changing Woman.  *** Will moved some of his clothes and personal
belongings to Nadleh's hogan.  There was no ceremony, but Dezba and the
other Indians began to refer to Will as Nadleh's husband.

Does this make you my squaw?  Will asked.  Nadleh spat on the ground.
Do not say such things, Husband.

Aren't you my wife?  he asked confused.  But the word you used is a
bad word, disrepectful of women's role in the family.

I thought it was an Indian word, Will answered defensively.

We hear this word among the Hairy Faces.  That is how they talk about
their women.  Perhaps it once came from the speech of Indians she said
that last word as though it were strange to her, but it is an ugly
word.  Do not use it.  Will was having to unlearn the few things he
thought he'd known about Indians.  There was no writing desk in the
hogan, so sometimes he went back to his official quarters to work on
the report he was writing for Dr.  Steck.  He wasn't sure how he was
going to accomplish it, but he knew he was going to get to Santa Fe
soon.  Ironically, that note from General Carleton had given him all
the permission he'd needed.  He wasn't supposed to go on forays into
the desert, but he'd been told he could go to Santa Fe and that he
could spend all the time he wanted with the Indians.  He knew he wasn't
supposed to be causing trouble.  I don't think I am.  Nadleh was very
demonstrative in showing Will as her partner.  She insisted that he
join in the daily activities of the outfit.  One afternoon, while he
was working on his reports, she came to get him.

We are having a Friendship Dance, she said.  You must come and dance
with me.  Will followed her down to the Dineh camp.  Several men,
sitting in the middle of the space by the medicine lodge, were
beginning a drumbeat.  Around them a circle was forming.  People of
every age, from kids to elders, were participating.  They were laughing
and joking with one another as they paired up.  This was apparently not
a solemn ceremonial.

We are celebrating friendship, Nadleh said as she took hold of Will's
hand and pulled him behind her to her official place at the head of the
line.  You watch my steps.  It's easy.  Will stumbled a little at
first, but quickly caught on.  Most of the couples who joined in the
dance behind him and Nadleh were man and woman, but Will was sure not
all were husband and wife.  This was a celebration of friendship, after
all.  Will felt proud to be included.  There'd been no ceremony to
declare him and Nadleh married.  From what he'd seen the Dineh did not
appear to celebrate marriages as such, but they did obviously
acknowledge personal bonds.  As the dance progressed, Will got a little
giddy.  He began to imagine he and Nadleh were leading the village in
their wedding march.  For the whole world to see To Will's chagrin, he
saw that one other person who was watching was the obnoxious Sergeant
Peak.  Will had seen him occasionally surveying the Dineh camp from
afar, much as he had that day after the flood.  He was sure Peak had
seen that he was living with the Dineh.  Now he was participating in
their dances, as Nadleh's partner.  Will didn't know what difference it
would make that Peak had seen.  The other soldiers didn't seem to
notice anything he did, anyway.  His friend Mac McCarrie--with that
same enigmatic, knowing wink he had seen before-congratulated him, but
warned him not to be getting cunt-crazy.  Not knowing what that meant,
Will was simply grateful that McCarrie didn't seem to think there was
anything wrong about his staying among the Dineh.  And so he felt
relatively comfortable moving back and forth between the Dineh camp and
the soldiers fort.  Most of the Indians welcomed him.  Dezba and
Barboncito treated him just as if he'd always lived among them.  He
thought they were pleased to see that Nadleh finally had a new husband
and was beginning to be happy again.  His role as Nadleh's husband
seemed totally accepted.  He felt sure some of the Indians seemed
surprised with it, but it was as if this relationship gave them a way
of locating him within the Dineh family system and that was all they
wanted.  A few of the Indians from surrounding outfits clearly
disapproved.  Nadleh admitted to him that some of her people grumbled
that she had no right to do this.  Another of the Two-Spirit Persons on
the reservation had come to her one day and complained that she
dishonored Segundo's memory.  But when Nadleh explained her vision, the
Two-Spirit agreed she should follow the Holy Person's instructions.  It
was the warriors who most disapproved, but they had no authority over
Nadleh.  Some simply refused to believe a Hairy Face could be a Human
Being.  Will worried, in spite of Nadleh's assurances, that one of the
warriors might be overcome by--understandable--hatred for the white man
and kill him in his sleep.  He heard from McCarrie that the Mescaleros
on the reservation had gotten wind of his cameraderie with the Navajos
in Dezba's outfit and were warning that this could only bring trouble.
He answered McCarrie that he'd just have to take that chance, though it
added to his worries.  Will and Nadleh made love every night.  At
first, it seemed, both of them were racing to make up for all the years
of denial each had experienced.  But soon the urgency passed.  Once his
body no longer felt so sexually deprived, Will learned to hold back his
ejaculation.  Nadleh, who was remembering her own lessons about
lovemaking, patiently taught him how to enjoy sex leisurely, stretching
out the experience to gain pleasure and to savor more than just
physical release.  Soon Will felt confident to take a more active role.
It gratified him to know he was able to evoke in his lover's body
pleasures as she evoked in his.  There was so much more to lovemaking
than just the actions of the body.  He was discovering the deep
emotional roots that sex caused to grow.  Sex was more marvelous--and
somehow more beneficial--than Will had ever imagined.  He had once
believed that having sex and spending seed robbed one of vital energy
and life force.  He'd imagined having sex would cause one to lose vigor
and become dissipated and degenerate.  But it seemed the truth was just
the opposite.  Will was coming to life.  His fearful detachment and
somber introspection were fading away.  He started laughing more.  The
sexuality that had previously seemed so disturbing to him now began to
seem perfectly natural.  Nadleh, too, was changing.  While the mystical
quality still surrounded her, she dropped the mournful seriousness
which previously characterized her presence.  She became quite voluble,
in fact, with Will.  They talked for hours.  One evening during the
second week of Will's membership in the Dineh family, he and Nadleh
were sitting outside the medicine lodge in an area which Will had come
to see as a meeting place for the Dineh to talk about spiritual
questions.  Will presumed that was so they could easily consult with
Nadleh, clearly the expert on such matters.  Several others, including
Dezba and Barboncito, had joined the circle.  Will was surprised, and
pleased, to see their warm smiles when Nadleh expressed her affection
by resting a hand on his leg.  He was sure everybody must have been
able to hear their lovemaking at night inside the hogan.  He was glad
to see they wholeheartedly accepted it.  When a child began crying
somewhere outside the circle, Nadleh left to attend to it.  Will had
noticed that Nadleh seemed to be every child's substitute mother and
nanny.

Nadleh is very lucky to have a family who accepts her for the way she
is.  My father would never accept this, he said to Dezba and
Barboncito.

On the contrary, the old man answered, it is we who are lucky.  A
family which has a nadleh born to them is considered by everyone to be
very fortunate.  A nadleh brings the hogan good luck.  It does good for
the country to have people like Nadleh around.   You do not yet
realize how lucky you are to be chosen as the husband of a nadleh,
Dezba declared.  You will see how well you will be treated and how
happy you will be together.  She ignored Will's embarrassment and went
on, Your coming here was not an accident.  You were sent by Changing
Woman, first to save Barboncito from drowning, then to help Nadleh find
happiness.  Now that you have passed the tests set before you by
Changing Woman, you are destined to be of great help to the Dineh.  And
you will find yourself at the same time.  He was moved and challenged
by Dezba's remark.  What can I do to be of great help to the Dineh? 
Will had seen how firmly his fellow Southerners had resisted the
abolition of African slavery.  He decided it would be hopeless to
expect the New Mexicans to give up their Indian slaves willingly.  He
also decided it would be useless to try to persuade General Carleton to
change his policies; Carleton was obviously pro fitting personally out
of all this. The only thing to do was to bypass him.  The slave raiding
seemed the greatest threat to the Dineh.  And it seemed obvious that as
long as the Indians were enslaved by the New Mexicans, the raiding
would not cease.  It is my destiny, Will decided, to launch an attack
on slavery. Even after Nadleh returned to the circle and the easy
banter started again, Will was caught up in making plans for his
frontal attack.  The Indians were always good about including him, but
he let them carry on in Dineh, while he drafted a letter in his head. 
I will write to President Johnson.  And I will write to the Secretary
of the Interior and, even, to Senator Charles Sumner.  Surely Sumner
will want to stop the Fort's tacit approval of the New Mexican
enslavement of the Indians, if not the army's de facto enslavement of
them on the reservation.  Will spent the next two entire days drafting
and redrafting his letters.  Then he wrote out fair copies, sealed
them, and took them to the fort's tiny post office.  Mail was carried
back to civilization by passing stagecoaches or couriers.  He knew it
might take a while to get an answer.  But at least he had started.  ***
Meanwhile, Will wanted to do something practical to help.  With
thousands of Indians scattered over the reservation, there wasn't much
he could do directly for most of them.  But he could, at least, help
those who lived in the outfit that had now become his own home.  The
lack of food was the most immediate daily problem facing them.  Despite
the Dineh's hospitality and their willingness to share their meals with
him, Will realized they had no food to spare.  A practical thing he
could do was to return to eating at the soldiers mess.  At least I will
not be taking food from hungry children.  So while he spent most of his
days among the Dineh learning their culture, practicing their crafts,
helping with farming and other household tasks, and joining Nadleh in
ceremonies, each evening he went in to Fort Sumner to eat.  He was
doing himself a favor, too.  He needed to eat better.  He'd lost weight
during the two weeks he spent in the settlement.  Occasionally, the
soldiers rations would consist only of beans and cornbread, but most
nights there were piles of smoked meats put out for them.  Though the
area around the reservation looked desolate, this was cattle country.
Wild beef was plentiful in the nearby Texas plains, and General
Carleton's trader friends seemed almost always able to supply the fort
with meat.  It vexed Will that if there were money being sent from
Washington to provide for the Indians, why did there never seem to be
enough food to go around?  Yet the soldiers usually ate well.  He could
understand why the army gave its own men first priority, but it looked
to him as if the good food was being squandered while the Indians
starved.  One evening as he was finishing supper, sitting near the
kitchen door, he noticed that not only were there slabs of meat left
lying on platters on the serving table, but back in the kitchen there
were even larger piles.  He figured the leftover meat from tonight's
dinner would probably be served again in some other form, perhaps in a
stew the next night.  But still there was so much meat, a piece or two
of it would never be missed.  With such abundance, the cooks were not
likely to be keeping track of who was taking what.  Partly because Will
felt ostracized, he'd developed a pattern of arriving late, entering by
the back door--so he didn't have to pass the head table where the
general nightly held court--and eating by himself at one of the tables
just outside the kitchen.  And partly because of his egalitarian streak
and his tendency to avoid the amenities afforded the officers, he did
not leave his dishes to be picked up by the clean up crew, but carried
them into the scullery off the kitchen himself.  So this evening it was
simple for him to make a slight detour on his way back from the
scullery to pick up a large slab of smoked beef and stash it inside his
jacket.  Of course, it was going to leave grease stains on his shirt
and his jacket would smell like a smokehouse for days, but what did
that matter compared to the hunger of his Dineh friends?  Ducking out
the back of the kitchen, totally unnoticed, Will clutched his stolen
treasure to his ribs and headed directly for Dezba's settlement.  The
Indians were sitting around a small campfire.  Including the children,
there were about fifteen of them.  They'd just finished a supper of
gruel made from the cornmeal that was the one thing always allotted
them in the government rations.  They prepared it in clay pots over the
small fire and served it with a fry bread that was cooked in
government-issue iron skillets.  As Will sat down in the circle, he
grinned slyly.  He opened his jacket and pulled out the large piece of
meat and presented it grandly to Dezba.  All the Indians, especially
the children, began to jabber with excitement.  Dezba calmed everybody
down, thanked Will, and then cut the slab into pieces for everyone. The
children devoured the rich smoke-flavored meat.  Nadleh ate more
slowly, but in her eyes Will could see her gratitude.  After everyone
was finished, Nadleh led them in a song of thanksgiving.  Its smooth,
beautiful melody enthralled Will.  He realized the song was sung to
him.

Did General Carleton give you the meat to bring to us?  Dezba asked.

Not exactly.

Where did it come from?  Nadleh asked, her voice sounding suspicious.

Oh, it's good, Will answered, knowing that Nadleh might legitimately be
concerned.  Everyone in the West had heard stories about how the Hairy
Faces had sometimes given blankets and supplies to the Indians which
turned out to have been infected with cholera, and entire settlements
had been wiped out.

It came from the soldiers dinner, he explained.  There was just a lot
of meat out in the kitchen.  So I picked this up for you.

Thank you, thank you, Dezba exclaimed.  See how happy the children
look.  They smile more tonight than we have seen in many months.

You stole this from the rations for the soldiers?  Nadleh sounded
worried.

How could I steal what was put out for anyone to take?  he answered
defensively.  There was more than enough.

I, too, am grateful to you, Nadleh replied.  But the Hairy Face
soldiers would not be happy to know you did this good thing for us.
Will realized that if the Hairy Faces found out about this, it would be
the Indians who would be punished.  I will be careful, he answered
softly.  The next night, he brought an old shirt tucked inside his
jacket so he could wrap the meat and not spoil his clothes.  Again the
smoked meat was piled high both on the serving table and in the
kitchen.  Again he snatched up a piece as he left the dining hall.
Again the children squealed with joy and anticipation when he arrived.
The third night, when he came prepared to steal another treasure of
food for the Dineh, he discovered supper was a stew.  There was no way
he could bring any of this back.  He especially regretted this because
the stew included fresh carrots.  How long has it been since any of the
children have eaten any vegetables?  Will arrived at the campfire
empty-handed that night.  The adults all understood, but the children
gathered round him and pulled at his clothes.  They acted as though he
were playing a trick on them and that, at any moment, he'd open his
jacket to reveal yet another gift.  This made Will all the more
committed to continue bringing food for them.  The next two nights he
was again successful.  One night, he came with several thick slices of
roast pork dripping with sweet fat.  After the pilfered treasures had
been consumed and the Indian families had led their children away for
another night of sleeping without the pangs of hunger, Nadleh announced
very solemnly for the elders left in the circle to hear, You should not
do this anymore.  Will looked at her baffled, Why not?  Your family is
hungry.

You should not be stealing, Nadleh stated firmly.

How can you care about my stealing meat from the soldiers?  They stole
your homeland from you.

Changing Woman warned me you must stop this, she answered.

Well, thanks for your concern.  But I've got this down pat.  The
cooks'll never miss the meat.  I'll be extra careful.  Stop worrying. 
And you can tell Changing Woman not to worry either.  Will's little
joke did not sit well with Nadleh.  Don't think you can tell Changing
Woman what to do.  We Earth People must respect the spirit world.  If
Changing Woman tells us to do something, we accept her wisdom as best. 
We must trust her.  You, Will Lee, have not yet learned how to be fully
civilized.

Well, thanks for the gratitude, he shot back.  He wanted Nadleh to take
him in her arms and hug him and make love to him for his efforts to
help the Dineh.  But instead she was preaching this superstitious
religion of hers.

Well, at least the children's stomachs have been full this week.  What
has Changing Woman ever done better than that?  Seems to me that
Changing Woman has not been paying too much attention to the problems
facing your people.  Will took out his frustration and confusion on
Nadleh.

You must never speak such words about Changing Woman.  Faith in her is
the only strength we have left.  If we lose faith, we have no hope.  We
will then be truly abandoned.  Will regretted his sacrilegious
remark.

You must be patient with Changing Woman, Nadleh continued, her tone
softening a little.  Her powers to help us are weak since the Dineh
were never meant to live here.  We must return to our homeland in order
for her to be able to make us strong again.  Still, even here, her
powers can help us if we keep faith.  I fear your doubting and
disrepect will bring harm upon you.

Will, she said imploringly but firmly, you must promise me you will not
steal any more meat.  I worry about your safety.

All right, all right.  If it will make you stop worrying so much, I'll
think about it.  But I'm still concerned about food for the children.
Nadleh looked back at Will with piercing eyes.  I'm concerned about
food for all the Dineh children.  There are thousands of hungry
children here.  Can you hide enough meat under your coat for all of
them?  It is more important for you to remain free and use your
authority to get the Hairy Faces to let us return home.  You spend your
efforts trying to protect us from the raids of the New Mexicans or to
bring us a little extra food.  We don't want more army rations.  We
don't want more guards to protect us.  Haven't you heard a word we have
said?  We don't want the improvements you've tried to make.  We want to
go home.  Dejected, Will went back to the Indian Agent's quarters that
night and to his lonely little cot.  He did not sleep in Nadleh's arms.
He did not sleep much at all, in fact.  He lay awake for a long time
fussing at himself, at Nadleh, at the impossible circumstances he was
in.  I'm just one person.  How am I supposed to save the Navajos?  It's
not my fault they're on this goddamn reservation.  If that damned
Segundo hadn't made that stupid bet and then gone and got himself
killed, they wouldn't be in this situation.  First he--she--Oh, I don't
know what the hell Nadleh is First, he says he loves me, then he tells
me I haven't listened to a word he's said since I came out here.  Hey,
I'm the one that's kept trying to help Nadleh would never have spoken
to me if I hadn't kept after them.  My God, I risked my life for them.
Yeah, I was risking my neck for them every time I brought them a
goddamn piece of meat.  In the morning, he felt a little calmer.  He
realized Nadleh had been right.  Making things better for the prisoners
in a hell-hole isn't nearly as important as getting them out of the
hole.  After breakfast, Will wrote another round of letters to the
officials in Washington.  This time he stressed the importance of
allowing the Dineh to exercise self-determination in where and how they
would live.  He felt especially proud of this set of letters.  This is
what I should have said in the first place.  Will turned the letters in
to the post office, then went back to his quarters and napped for a
while to make up for his sleepless night.  He woke up a little before
supper time and made a decision.  As he had done today, he would start
working for the Dineh's release from the reservation.  But in the
meantime, I will continue taking them food.  Maybe not every night, but
at least occasionally.  I'm sure that when I come to the campfire
tonight with another slab of meat and the children squeal and laugh,
Nadleh will see I am right about this.  It doesn't have to be one or
the other.  That evening, confident in his resolution though worried
about crossing Nadleh, Will went to supper.  He took his customary seat
near the kitchen.  As usual, there was meat out for the soldiers--and
more meat than they could eat.  He ate slowly, giving most of the
others time to finish and leave the mess hall.  The clean-up crew was
gathering the dishes from the officers tables.  Everything was as
usual.  No, one thing is different, Will told himself as he nervously
looked around and began to fight with himself about whether he should
stick to his hard-headed decision.  The cook, who had usually
disappeared from the kitchen by this time, was standing behind the
serving table.  Occasionally, it seemed, he'd glance over at Will. 
Well no matter.  I'll grab a piece from the kitchen.  Nobody's in
there.  Will picked up his dishes and carried them to the scullery. He
started to walk back over to the table in the kitchen where the meat
was laying out when he recalled Nadleh's words: Changing Woman warned
me you must stop this.  Will felt his determination wither.  What if I
get to camp and Nadleh is angry because I disobeyed her?  He didn't
want to cross her.  Even the one night sleeping by himself, he felt
deprived.  And he wondered if he dared cross Changing Woman.  He
remembered the presence he'd felt in the sweat lodge.  He remembered
the rattlesnake looking him in the eye.  Thinking better of his earlier
resolution, Will did not reach for the meat, but turned and started to
head out of the kitchen.  There, to his surprise, was the cook standing
in the doorway.  In one hand he wielded a large fork.  Will had an
image of the cook suddenly descending upon him with that fork and
stabbing him in the hand if he had reached for a piece of the meat.
Will started to tremble.  What are you lookin at?  he asked with
feigned innocence.  That sure is a big pile o meat.  Nuff for an army.
He laughed nervously, then turned on his heel and headed out the back
door.  Empty-handed but free.  He headed down toward the circle he knew
was sitting around the fire.  Halfway through the darkness, he stopped
and looked up into the star-filled night.  Thank you, Changing Woman,
he proclaimed.  Pardon my impatience and disrespect.  I'll find another
way to help.  Nadleh was waiting for him.  He opened his jacket to show
he had not brought any meat.  Nadleh smiled and embraced him
affectionately.  He felt such a relief.  He hadn't gotten caught.  And
he had been welcomed back into his lover's arms.  He did not tell the
Dineh about almost getting caught.  Or about his amazement that
Changing Woman's warning had come just in time.  But Nadleh seemed to
know.  None of the Dineh, even the children, complained that he came
empty-handed.  They were all glad just that he came.  After the
children had gone to bed, Dezba said to Will, I have something to tell
you you will not like.  Fearing she was going to tell him that for some
reason he would have to break off his relationship with Nadleh, Will
felt his stomach turn.  What is it?

I was cleaning the general's office this afternoon.  I heard somebody
in Lieutenant Bauer's office next door.  A soldier came to Bauer.  He
said he had some more letters from the Indian Agent.  He wanted to know
if he should leave them in the general's office or give them to the
Lieutenant.  Do you know what this means?

Oh, God, he said, what that means is that General Carleton is
intercepting my letters.  Damn, damn, damn.  I bet nothing I've written
has been sent anywhere.  None of my reports.  None of my requests for
more food or better conditions.

I've been writing them to document the problems here: the lack of
shelter, the slave raids, the inhumane treatment, all the unnecessary
deaths.  I'll bet none of it's gotten through.  Nadleh sat down beside
him and put her arm over his shoulder sympathetically.  Then she sat
back and turned to him and asked, not at all sympathetically, When are
you going to give up on these reports?  Don't you understand?  Your
Washington does not care what happens to starving Indians on the
frontier.  You seem to think if you simply tell them what is happening,
they will act to correct things.  But you are wrong, Will Lee.  This
Great Father of yours in Washington does not care.  It does not matter
whether your reports were sent or not.  Even if they had been, all they
would do is sit and gather dust.

Thanks a lot, Will muttered.  The circle, Dezba, Barboncito, Nadleh,
Will, and several other adults sat in morose silence.  Then Nadleh
stood and raised her hands toward the sky, almost as Will had a little
while before.

Oh, Changing Woman, she prayed, give guidance to Will Lee.  He has a
good heart, but he does not think well.  Tell him what he should do.
She stood staring up toward the stars.  Will wondered how long this was
going to go on.  Then a wind blew up suddenly, and an owl screeched.
Nadleh announced, Changing Woman says you have been trying to persuade
the government by talking about the Indians needs.  Even if your
letters had been sent, they have been hearing talk like that for years
about many tribes.  They have never acted.  Changing Woman says you
must forget the needs of the Dineh and appeal to the needs of the
government.  That is what they will act on.

What does that mean?  Will inquired, a little testy.

Changing Woman means you must show that General Carleton's policies are
bad for the Great White Father.

How do I do that?  Nadleh laughed scornfully, How should Changing Woman
know?  You are the Hairy Face.  You are part of the government.  We
Dineh do not even have such a thing.  Will felt betrayed by Changing
Woman's obtuse advice, but he began to scheme.  Nadleh, he said, ask
Changing Woman to help.  I think what I must do is go to Santa Fe and
see Dr.  Steck.  That night, Will slept again in Nadleh's hogan.  They
made love for a long time.  Will kept remembering his dream of sex with
Nadleh and Segundo.  He recalled how in the dream Segundo had entered
him and he'd felt the brave's strength go into him.  He knew now he
needed strength and luck.  Perhaps Nadleh's powers could strengthen
him.  He asked Nadleh to put aside her role as wife and be husband to
him and to enter him as Segundo had in the dream.  Nadleh seemed to
sense the connection with Segundo also.  Will had noticed her sometimes
look at him inquisitively and smile to herself as if she were beholding
some part of her long lost love return to her.  As they made love--and
Nadleh initiated him into a kind of sex he had not known before--he
imagined Segundo's spirit actually completing the sexual bonding
between the three of them.  When Nadleh came inside him, Will felt as
if Segundo had entered him and was now part of the person who was
William Lee.  Nadleh lowered herself so she was lying against the
muscles of his back.  They stayed together like this for a long time,
with Nadleh remaining inside him.  Will felt so safe and secure.  Now
that fate had brought them together, was it possible for anything to
come between them?  I hope not.

Chapter Eleven

Will woke in the morning loosely cuddled in Nadleh's arms.  He rolled
over on the sheepskin and, pulling away a little, he gazed into her
face.  Without the characteristically feminine shirt and skirt, Nadleh
was simply a soft and fine-featured young man.  His Navajo looks gave
him a kind of austere harshness.  Will was in a state of absolute
wonderment.  It seemed a lifetime, but it was, in fact, only just over
six weeks ago that he was fleeing his father's wrath.  Then he was a
farmboy, barely even aware of the power of love and sex, still only
occasionally touching himself in secret and suffering guilt and
self-recriminations and making firm resolves never to fall victim to
such self-abuse again.  Now he was the chosen husband of the spiritual
leader of the Dineh people, freely making love with this beautiful and
powerful man, routinely sharing affection openly in view of all his
family and reveling in their love and acceptance.  And now he was
making resolves to wage battle with the U.S. Army--at least on
paper--and thereby to save this wonderful man, his welcoming family,
and his ancient culture.  Nadleh lay bare atop the creamy white fleece.
Will marveled in the look of her rich brown flesh and dark black hair.
Indians, he had discovered, generally possessed a thicker, oilier skin
than whites.  This made them practically hairless, protected them from
sunburn, prevented wrinkles, but allowed deep creases to form with age
in their faces, and gave them a smooth well-fed look, even when they
were starving.  Nadleh's flesh was typically Indian, but because she
was so tall and thin, her skin pulled tighter around her body and
defined her musculature more than in most.  Will's own flesh was white.
Where it was exposed to sun, it had reddened and dried.  His skin was
very thin and showed every muscle and sinew and vein beneath it.  He
thought he looked as if he were starving, even when he was well-fed.
Recalling his close call last night, Will once again thanked Changing
Woman, surprised that he seemed to be getting religious again.  He
roused Nadleh.

Good morning, he said.  Nadleh answered in Dineh.  Will recognized the
words.  He felt proud of himself for beginning to pick up Nadleh's
language.  That was how it was supposed to be.

I'm going to the fort for breakfast.  I don't want the cook to think I
m acting guilty after last night.  If I show up for breakfast,
everything'll seem normal.  As Will came through the screen of trees,
he noticed there were rolls of cloth lying around on the ground in
front of his official quarters.  Was this some kind of trap set by the
cook or by Sergeant Peak?  What could it be?  Will went over toward the
cabin.  As he neared, he spied several horses tied at the back of the
building.  At that moment, one of the rolls of cloth moved.  Will
startled, then called out.  Hello?

Buenos dias, se or, an unfamiliar, heavily accented voice called out.
It's the New Mexican raiders.  Will started to panic.

Ah, Guillermo Lee, mi amigo, another voice spoke up.  This one was
familiar.  Will scolded himself for being so skittish.  Have faith in
Changing Woman.  It is none other than Roberto Calderon.

What are you doing here?  He rushed over and bent down to his friend
who was struggling with the bedroll.

Ayes muy caliente, Roberto complained.  What are you doing here?  I
thought you were going to live with Indians.  This is a desert here. No
Indian in his right mind would live here.

There's a story to that.  What are you doing here?  he repeated.

Me and mis amigos arrived late last night.  The sentry sent us over
here.  But you weren't in your cabin.

How come you're here at all?

We came to visit you.

But you were in Kansas

Oh, yo comprendo.  After that trail drive to Kansas, when we met, Se or
Will, us guys worked around there for a while hunting strays that had
gotten out of the corrals.  Then we heard about a job in El Paso with a
trail drive coming up from Mexico.

So you were not so far out of the way.  I said to mis amigos, I have a
friend on the Navajo Reservation at Fort Sumner on the Pecos River.
They all agreed we would come to see you.  Roberto looked around again
at the desolate countryside.  I did not realize what I was getting us
into.

It is pretty hot and dry round here, Will answered.  But, hey, Roberto,
I'm very glad to see you.  I think of you often.

I think of you, too, Roberto said with a lascivious inflection.

Oh, yes, Will replied, and then began to wonder how he was going to
deal with this new wrinkle in the fabric of his life.  Will took
Roberto and his amigos down to the Sutler's Store for breakfast.  This
was a privately operated business just outside the compound of Fort
Sumner. Here a wide variety of supplies and goods were available for
purchase. Will showed the visitors around the fort, though he stayed
away from the officers quarters lest they run into General Carleton. 
Then, leaving the four amigos down at the store, he led Roberto over to
the Dineh settlement.  I'm husband of a Navajo, he said to Roberto.

Congratulations, mi amigo.  So now you will settle down and raise a
family of Indian ni os.

Not exactly.  It's different from that, Roberto.  The person I am
husband of is, uh, not a woman.  But he looks and dresses like a
woman.

Ah, I know of such things, Roberto said.  You are the husband of a
berdache, yes?

Berdache?

That is what my friend the Frenchman called the Indian men that live
like women.  You remember, Roberto said proudly, I know French.

I remember, Will answered.  I don't know about berdache, though I know
the Navajo believe there are people who are both man and woman,
Two-Spirit Persons.

Aye, that is berdache, Roberto said.  Then he added, a little timidly
for Roberto who was always so full of self-confidence and gusto, Does
this mean you aren't playing with the amigos in the tent?  Will was
grateful Roberto asked.  He hadn't known how to bring up the subject.
Guess so, he answered.

Que lastima, Roberto said.  I was looking forward to

I know, Will interrupted.  He didn't actually know if Nadleh expected
sexual exclusivity of him, but he'd been brought up to believe one can
be married to only one person.  Besides, he realized, for all that he
frequently remembered the night with Roberto, his emotions and
affections had become so focused on Nadleh and his life so obsessed
with helping the Indians, he didn't feel the urge to have sex again
with Roberto.  At least, not now.  This surprised him, since his
memories of Roberto were so frankly sexual.  He remembered his dream of
making love with both Nadleh and Segundo.  He knew Roberto could play
the third role in something like that.  In fact, he thought that would
be nice.  Maybe someday.  When he first saw Roberto that morning, his
reactions had been a mixture of excitement and fear.  He felt his love
for Nadleh challenged as though he would have to make a choice between
the Indian and the cowboy.  Roberto's easy acknowledgement allayed the
fear.  There was no choice being asked.  When Will and Roberto arrived
at the settlement, several of the Indians immediately hid.  They, just
as Will had earlier, mistook Roberto for a slave raider.  Will,
therefore, went right to the hogan where he and Nadleh were living.

This is the man I told you about, he said to Nadleh.  He's a cowboy
from Texas.  He first showed me how men can make love with each other.
He's a friend.  Nadleh took to the young cowboy right away.  Perhaps
she saw in him, too, a little of the blend of maleness and femaleness
that was the essence of her own personality.  At any rate, she did not
seem at all threatened.  In fact, after they'd talked awhile, she
suggested Will team up with Roberto.

My husband wants to go to Santa Fe, she said, to see the officials of
the government there.  We Dineh have been ordered not to leave the
reservation.  We cannot escort him.  I believe Changing Woman brought
him a friend to help him with this journey.

You want me to go with Will to Santa Fe?  Roberto asked.

I cannot go by myself, Will admitted.  I'd get lost in the desert.

Ay, you are right, Americano, Roberto answered with a laugh.  He
slapped him on the back.  You need a cowpoke, like me, who knows the
range.  Will was a little embarrassed.  But, of course, this was true.
Do you know how to get to Santa Fe?

Why, of course, just follow the river, Roberto answered.  In fact, my
friend Jesse lives in Santa Fe.  I haven't seen him in three years.

What about your job in El Paso?  he asked.

Who needs that job?  There are jobs in Santa Fe.  I will go there and
visit Jesse and his wife Lupe.  *** Roberto's four amigos would
continue on to El Paso, it was decided.  But Roberto would go with Will
to visit his friend in Santa Fe and to act as Will's guide.  Roberto,
ever the free spirit, seemed to rejoice in changing his plans and going
off to do something totally spontaneously.  Will envied him.  If I were
as free, I wouldn't need to seek an escort.  Will spent the day
completing the report he would present to Dr.  Steck.  That night,
after seeing to the needs of Roberto and his friends who slept at the
Indian Agent's quarters, he went back to the Dineh settlement and
stayed the night with Nadleh.  He didn't really fear that anything
would happen to him. He knew he'd be back soon.  Though he warned
Nadleh that if he had to wait for an exchange of correspondence with
Washington, he could be gone for weeks.  Will cried at the prospect of
being parted from Nadleh that long.  They both agreed this was the best
chance for bypassing Carleton and the best chance of changing the
plight of the Dineh people.  Barboncito arranged for Will to ride one
of the Navajo horses. Just before dawn, in hopes of getting away
without being noticed, Will and Roberto rode out toward the northwest
along the Pecos River.  They decided to avoid the trail, known
euphemistically as The Avenue, that ran north toward the settlement of
Las Vegas, New Mexico, crossing the trail to Santa Fe on the way.  They
were less likely to run into soldiers or traders coming from one of the
towns.  It was a 150-mile journey they were beginning.  It was going to
take them three or four days.  Will had become so much more emotional
and talkative since he'd developed his relationship with Nadleh.  It
changed how he related to Roberto.  He spent long stretches of their
time together describing what the Dineh were like and what their
problems were and, most of all, what a strange but appealing character
Nadleh was.  Roberto carried on with his characteristic sexual bravado,
yet there developed in his voice such a sweetness when he spoke of Will
and Nadleh together.  On the way, Roberto told Will about his friend in
Santa Fe.

Jesse was a slave in Louisiana.  He escaped a long time ago--long
before there was any talk about freeing the slaves.  He crossed the
border into Texas and headed west.  I met him in San Antonio.  We had
all gone there to the mission to see the holy ceremonies at Christmas
time and to enjoy the feasting.  There were all these pan dulces that
the padres at the mission give out during the procession of Mary and
Joseph to find a place to give birth to the Christ child.  Ah, Will, it
is a wonderful time.  There are candles burning on the roofs of houses
all along la posada.  You should come with me to San Antonio to see

I'm not very religious any more, Will interrupted, deflecting the
invitation to join in another journey.  Already his thighs and buttocks
were aching after only the first day of this ride.

Not religious!  Roberto joked, you are married to the sacerdote of the
Navajos.

The what?

The high priest--the Pope--of the Indians.  Roberto laughed heartily.

It's not exactly the same thing

Oh, isn't it?  Roberto chided.

So my boss, Jose Chavez, hired Jesse to work the next trail drive with
us.  Jose's sister, Lupe, had come with us to see the Christmas
pageant.  She was muy bonita in those days.  She and Jesse ran off from
the procession and found a barn--just like Mary and Joseph, he joked.
Only it was many months later that their baby was born, but they named
him Jesus in honor of the way they met.

After Lupe had the baby, Jesse decided he didn't want to be a cowboy
anymore.  Lupe's uncle had a store in Santa Fe, so Jesse and Lupe and
poco Jesus all went up there to work for the uncle.

My boss, Jose, loved his sister.  So whenever he heard about a trail
drive coming out of North Texas or New Mexico, he'd always take us up
there with him and we'd all go visit Jesse and Lupe.

You will like them, Se or Will.  They love me and mis amigos like we
were their own children.  Me especially.  Only, see, I have not gone up
there for such a long time cause I don't work for Jose anymore.  But I
will show you.  We will have a great time in Santa Fe.  By the time
they got to the capital city of the New Mexico Territory, Will was
convinced he'd never make it as cowboy.  Life on horseback didn't agree
with his buttocks.  Roberto had been right about Jesse and Lupe. 
Jesse, the ex-slave, had taken his wife's last name and had inherited
her uncle's properous business, the Chavez General Store in the
bustling frontier metropolis of Santa Fe, a few blocks from the
cathedral on the town square.  The Chavezes lived in an adobe building
behind the store.  The family had recently had an addition.  Lupe had
given birth to a daughter less than a week before Will and Roberto
arrived.  Will worried they had come at an inconvenient time and would
be imposing. But, to his surprise, Lupe insisted they stay with them,
even though their adobe dwelling was small and now overcrowded with the
new baby.

You must be the godfather for mini a Maria, Lupe exclaimed.  That will
make you part of the family, Roberto.  Then you will have to visit us
more often.

How can I stand up for Maria's baptism?  I have no wife to be the
madrina.  The padre would not allow this.  Jesse clasped Roberto's
shoulder in a half-embrace.  Hey, amigo, maybe you be the madrina. Your
friend here can be padrino.

Jesse, Lupe, Roberto said formally, this is my friend Will.  From
Virginia.  Ay, but he cannot be godparent to Maria.  He is already
married.  To a handsome Navajo warrior.

A warrior, Jesse said, obviously joining into the humor, Lucky you.  He
must keep you satisfied.

Well, actually, she's not a warrior exactly, Will said earnestly.

A berdache, Roberto interjected.

Ah, I see, a holy man, Jesse answered.  Will was pleased Jesse knew
about such personages among the Indians.

Lupe, Jesse said, I think Roberto is right.  Padre Quintana at the
Cathedral would not allow such a choice to be godparents at our Maria's
baptism.  He laughed as though their priest's conventional-mindedness
were a regular item of humor in the family.

Roberto, Lupe scolded with the same ribald humor, You must find
yourself a bride then, before it is time for our Maria to be baptized.
Now, both of you, sit down, sit down.  Roberto, tell us all about
yourself.  Are you on the trail?  Or have you come to settle down in
Santa Fe?  Will sat back and listened while the three old friends
caught up with one another.  After a while, they fell into speaking
Spanish, and he could not follow the conversation.  He marveled that
this black slave had succeeded in shedding his previous life and making
such happiness for himself.  How fortunate he'd been to escape the
oppression of the South!  They'd arrived late in the afternoon.  Jesse
went back up front to the General Store for a while, then closed and
returned to assist Lupe in preparing supper.  Will felt totally
welcomed.  These people were friendly and accepting.  As he sat at the
little wooden table near the fireplace of the adobe house and ate
cabrito and beans and tortillas, he realized he'd come with a bias
against the New Mexican people.  So far, the only New Mexicans he'd had
any contact with had been the raiders who nearly killed him.  That
experience, and the Dinehs understandable hostility toward this other
race of invaders in their homelands, had turned him against them.  Now
he saw that just as there were good and bad people among his own white
race, and good and bad people among the diverse population called the
Indians, so there were good and bad people among the mestizo Mexicans
who had colonized this part of the Southwest.  After dinner, Jesse
went back to the store and got a bottle of tequila.  Lupe did not take
any of the bitter alcohol; she was nursing Maria and did not want to
taint her milk.  But Roberto and Jesse imbibed enthusiastically. 
Having been raised by a strict preacher, Will had little experience
drinking spirits.  He tasted the drink, but the harsh tequila was too
much for him.  Nonetheless, by the end of the evening, just from a few
sips now and then, he was mildly intoxicated and quite jovial.  When it
came time for sleep, Lupe insisted Roberto and Will take the bed.  She
rolled blankets out on the floor between the bed and the dining table
for herself, Jesse, and little Jesus.  Baby Maria was in a wooden crib
that Jesse proudly announced he had carved himself.  Will was
embarrassed by this show of hospitality.  Why should these people give
up their comfortable bed for me?  But he was in no shape to argue with
them. Besides, he figured, it was Roberto's place to accept or decline
the hospitality.  After they were all tucked away, the boy Jesus
demanded to sleep in the bed with T'o Roberto.  Lupe apologized, but
then explained the boy usually slept with them in the bed.

Besides, she said, you are his favorite uncle, Roberto.  Roberto
agreed. *** In the morning, Will set out to find Dr.  Steck and the
Office of Indian Affairs.  In fact, he had only to walk a block from
the Chavez Store.  There, facing the plaza in the center of Santa Fe,
was the building that housed the government offices.  Will was asked by
the receptionist in the lobby to take a seat.  In a few minutes, a big
man with a full head of hair and a beard trimmed away from his chin
strode into the room and exuberantly introduced himself as Michael
Steck.

William Lee, Indian Agent at Fort Sumner, New Mexico Territory, Will
responded, thinking that, though this man carried more weight and his
face was fuller, Michael Steck looked just like the now dead President
Abraham Lincoln.  He made a good first impression.  Steck led him back
to the small office assigned to the Territorial Indian Superintendent.
Then said frankly that he'd never heard of William Lee, Indian Agent. I
thought we were still waiting for those damned bureaucrats in
Washington to assign someone.

Didn't Mr.  McDonald write to tell you I'd been assigned?  Will asked
nervously.

Jesse McDonald stopped writing to me about the time Jim Carleton was
put in charge of Fort Sumner.  I didn't like Carleton then and objected
to the appointment.  But, son, he asked paternally, if you're the new
Agent, why haven't you sent any reports to this office?

Mr.  McDonald instructed me to send my reports directly to him, he
answered defensively.  But I've recently discovered that mail I've
tried to send has been intercepted by General Carleton.  I'm not sure
anything I've written has gone anywhere.  He held up the sheath of
papers in his hand.  But, here, I have a report to present to you.
Steck took the papers, then sat down behind his desk and, after
inviting Will to take a seat, quickly looked through the pages.

This is very good, he murmured a few times.  Very interesting Hmm, just
as I suspected After a while, he closed the report and looked up at
Will.  Tell me, young man, just how did you get assigned to this job?

Well, sir, that's one of the things I came to see you about, he
answered.  Recently General Carleton said something to me about the
circumstances of my appointment.  I don't know what he meant.  I
thought you might.

What was the reason for his making the comment?

The general, sir, was reprimanding me for urging him to send a rescue
party for a young Indian boy who'd been stolen by slave raiders.

Slave raiders?

Don't you know, sir?  It's there in my report.  General Carleton
objected to my asking that something be done to stop the raids on the
Indians.  He said those words, the circumstances of my appointment, as
though I was supposed to know what it meant.

What does it mean?

I don't know, Will answered, but I think the general meant I was
supposed to know I was not sent out here to help the Indians.

But if you're the Indian Agent, then, of course, you're supposed to be
helping them.

Well, as my report indicates, they have serious problems, sir.  But I
don't think their problems are getting reported properly.  I mean,
there's very little food, no housing, and no protection given them.
They are practically starving out there.  I personally had to save
several of them from drowning when there was a flash flood  And then

All right, son.  I'm very interested in this.  You know, we've been
sending quite a bit of money to Carleton.  Where's it going?

Not to the Indians, Will answered.

What's happened to Mr.  Ayers?

Ayers?

Your predecessor.  I'd heard he'd been accused of a heinous crime.  But
I knew the man and didn't think it was possible.

They say the Indians killed him.  I heard the soldiers talking, but
nobody would tell me, sir, Will answered, fearing that he sounded like
a feckless fool.  One of the soldiers told me my predecessor had raped
and killed an Indian woman.  General Carleton said something about the
previous Agent wanting to receive rewards of some sort  The second
part sounds like Ayers.  He was always scheming to get rich the easy
way.  But I can't believe he'd rape or murder anybody.

Sergeant Peak said the Indian had her throat cut in the Agent's
quarters.  I guess it looked pretty suspicious.

Your quarters?  Steck inquired.  That must be disturbing to your
sleep.

I'm living among the Indians now, sir.  But I guess it was not so bad.
I mean, I didn't know about it at first.

You are living among the Indians?  Will didn't mention the sexual
nature of his relationship with Nadleh.  Jesse and Lupe Chavez had been
accepting, but this Dr.  Steck was a white man.  He seemed quite open
and friendly, but Will had no way to know just how much truth he could
take.  But Steck's question gave him the opportunity to explain the
problems he'd delineated in his written report.  Steck listened
attentively, then responded, I never liked Carleton.  He's a pompous
horse's ass as far as I am concerned.  All so cocksure he's right about
eliminating the Indians from the Territory.  I admit this job would be
easier if there were no Indians around.  But there are

And they are human beings, too, just like us, Will interjected.

Some years ago I made a personal inspection of the Bosque Redondo area.
I did not see how that barren land could support any more than two
thousand people.  Carleton tried to move in twelve thousand.

According to Agent Ayers count in 65, there were nine thousand.  The
Navajos estimate there are less than seven now.

Where did the others go?  Steck inquired.

They died, sir.  What did you think?

Died?  Oh, my God.  Well, I see there is a problem here.

Yes sir.  Will answered.  Remembering Nadleh's message from Changing
Woman about how to present the accusations against Carleton, he asked a
suggestive question.  Is General Carleton still requisitioning food and
supplies for nine thousand Indians?

That's a good question, son.  That's a very good question.  Steck
appeared to have hit on a thought.  Will was pleased.

Let me study your report, then do a little investigating.  We've got a
telegraph here now, you know.  I will contact Washington and see what I
can learn.  I think I've been kept in the dark about what's going on
down there.  I'd thought my friend Ayers was handing everything.  Now I
see that perhaps I've been mistaken about that.  Steck stood signalling
the end of the meeting.

Where are you staying?  he asked.

Last night, Will answered, with Jesse and Lupe Chavez.  They are
friends of this cowboy who rode up here with me.

Oh, yes.  I know Jesse Chavez.  Good man.  Say, haven't they just had a
baby?

Yes, sir.

Then it must be crowded at their house.

Yes, sir.

Well, well.  Let's get you out of their way and into a hotel.  We're
spending a lot of money on this Bosque Redondo experiment of Carleton
s. You just might be able to save the government some of that
expenditure.  I'm sure we can afford to put you up comfortably.
Besides, you may be around here a while.  I may need to put you to work
drawing up some more reports for me on the conditions there.  At
Steck's instruction, Will took a room for himself at the Sangre de
Cristo Hotel.  Jesse and Lupe told him he was welcome to remain with
them, but they were also obviously relieved that he was moving
elsewhere. Roberto said he'd decided to give them back their bed and to
move his bedroll out behind their adobe house so he could sleep under
the stars as he was used to.  As before, he didn't want to spend time
in a hotel, especially not one paid for by the government.  Will was
also relieved. He'd been very glad to see Roberto again.  He was
grateful for his help in getting to Santa Fe.  He wanted to maintain a
friendship.  But at least for the time being, as long as he was a new
husband to Nadleh and potential savior of the Dineh people, he didn't
want to confuse his emotions by moving the Mexican cowboy in with him. 
The Sangre de Cristo Hotel, named for the range of mountains rising
just north of Santa Fe, was a thick-walled Spanish hacienda with cool,
shaded gardens all around.  Will saw that the hotel and the gardens
were staffed with Indian laborers.  While he liked seeing that the
Indians, some of which must have been of Dineh origin, were well fed
and happy, he thought it a shame that they or their parents had been
taken from a life of freedom out in their native homelands.  What is
civilization going to do to this land?  The hotel offered amenities
such as Will had never imagined.  Steck had told him to put anything he
wanted on the bill. In fact, he instructed him to be lavish.  After
all, you're not on the reservation now.  So the first night Will ate a
huge meal in the luxurious dining room and then ordered a bath.  The
clerk at the front desk asked if he'd like a rubdown as well.  This was
something he had never experienced before.  It sounded to him almost
sinfully indulgent. But in the interest of discovering all that this
new life of his had to offer, he agreed to the clerk's suggestion. 
Will went for a short walk in the early evening.  It was much cooler
here than in the desert. How delightful to stroll through the gardens
and watch the stars come out!  When he arrived back in his room, he
found that a tin tub had been carried in and placed right in the middle
of the spacious chamber along with a narrow table draped with soft
white towels.  Standing over the tub, pouring in a bucket of steaming
hot water, was a tall, well-muscled Indian, clad only in a kind of
woven loin cloth.  His manner was docile but commanding.  The Indian
never spoke a word but communicated through simple gestures that Will
should take off his clothes and climb into the tub.  The water was hot.
This was the first hot bath he had had since his railroad stop in
Kansas.  At Fort Sumner, he was only able to wash from a basin or
occasionally to bathe in the creek.  The Indian took soap and lathered
it in his hands and then stroked the rich suds through Will's hair.  He
massaged his scalp and then poured fresh water from a bucket to rinse
away the shampoo.  He handed Will a cloth, gesturing to him to use it
to wash his face.  Then he took the cloth and scrubbed Will's back and
arms, then underarms, sides and chest.  He motioned for him to stand up
and then carefully and innocently washed his lower body.  The whole
experience unnerved and titillated Will.  He'd never had anything even
vaguely like this done to him, he supposed, since he'd been an infant
and his mother had bathed him.  But, of course, this was altogether
different.  The Indian was always gentle but thorough, even in washing
his private parts.  He did not avert his gaze, though he also did not
seem any more interested than in any other part of Will's body.  Though
at first Will had become aroused, the Indian's conscientious
indifference allowed him to relax and enjoy the sensuality of the
moment without getting caught up in sexual tensions.  After allowing
him to soak in the warm water, the Indian helped him to stand up again
and rinsed him with more warm water from the bucket.  Finally, he dried
him with a soft towel, then helped him out of the tub by lifting him
right up out of the water.  Will steadied himself by taking hold of the
man's thick shoulders.  He marveled at the ease with which the Indian
picked up him.  After drying his legs and feet, the Indian bid him lie
down on the towel-draped table.  Starting with his shoulders and back
then, he massaged and kneaded every muscle in Will's body.  Finally, he
briskly rubbed him down, back and front, with a spicy-scented ointment
that caused his skin to tingle.  Then he covered him with a sheet. 
While Will drifted in and out of light sleep, the masseur carried the
tub away and straightened up the room.  After that, he gently woke him
and helped him move into the bed.  Later in the night, Will awoke and
lay for a while feeling guilty that he was here relishing all this
luxury while Nadleh and the others suffered such hardship back at the
reservation. A part of him wanted to flee the New Mexico Territory
altogether, to wash his hands of the responsibilities for the thousands
of Indians out there in the desert.  How can I possibly help them? 
It's all beyond my powers.  Another part of him resolved to turn this
self-indulgent luxury toward service to those who needed help.  As much
pleasure as all this gives me, that much effort and struggle will I
devote to the cause to undo the Dineh's suffering.  Will made a prayer
to Changing Woman, pledging himself to her service.  Then he rolled
over and slept soundly throughout the night.  Will spent the next day
with Dr.  Steck going over his written report.  He learned that the
Superintendent also disapproved of Carleton's policies and felt the
Indians were treated far more harshly than necessary.  Steck said he
didn't like the high-handed way, as he called it, Carleton treated him.
Steck explained that James Carleton was not an unfamiliar sight in
Santa Fe. But he was known around town not as a strictly disciplined
military man, but as a rich dandy who flaunted his money and his
connections.

Santa Fe is an old city with a Spanish heritage and blue-blooded
aristocracy.  These people, Steck said, resent an American soldier
coming into their community and behaving toward them as though they
were the foreigners or, worse, his servants.  A couple of the Spanish
aristocrats are part of his circle, but most of the upper class of
Santa Fe thoroughly dislike him and think him crass.

Carleton's buddies, with whom he sits around in the dining room at the
Sangre de Cristo smoking cigars and drinking brandy, playing poker and
lording it over the other diners, are traders and land speculators.
Steck's mention of the Sangre de Cristo Hotel as Carleton's playground
sent shivers of guilt through Will.  He imagined the general ordering
himself a massage like the one he got last night.

It makes sense for him to be friends with purveyors to the government
and the military, Steck continued, musing aloud, but why the
speculators?  That evening, Will felt misgivings about eating in the
dining room of the Sangre de Cristo.  Instead, he decided he'd find a
place less aristocratic.  He wandered out into the town square.  He
went by the Chavez Store and looked in a window, but the store was
closed.  He didn't want to impose on Lupe and Jesse.  And he was
already feeling guilty enjoying the amenities of urban life; he didn't
want to tempt himself further by socializing with Roberto--at least not
when he had a plush bed in a hotel room for Roberto to get him to take
him to.  Alittle way from the town square and out from under the shadow
of the Cathedral, he came upon The Yellow Rose Cantina.  The name
sounded like something right out of a Western penny novel.  He pushed
through the swinging doors and walked in.  Will swaggered up to the
bar, trying to look like he belonged, and ordered himself a beer.  Then
he leaned on one elbow and surveyed the room.  In one corner, he could
see several tables of diners.  He could smell the rich spicy aroma of
Mexican cooking.  In the opposite corner were large round tables that
appeared to be for poker games.  No one was over there at this time of
evening.  Most of the room was occupied by a large dance floor
surrounded with chairs and small tables for drinks.  Five or ten men
sat in those chairs, as though waiting for entertainment to begin.
Along the bar another five or ten men sat.  Some faced the bar; others
were turned so they, too, faced the dance floor.  Most of the men in
the place looked like the cowboys Will had seen in the saloons at the
railroad stop in Kansas.  He was just finishing his beer and thinking
that he ought to see about getting something to eat, when a burly
fellow with a big drooping mustache and a guitar came out to the center
of the dance floor.  After a few words in Spanish, he started playing.
Then a young boy came out with a taper in his hand and carefully
lighted kerosene lanterns that were set behind reflectors in a ring
near the back of the dance floor to create a stage.  As the guitarist
started in on another melody, a young Hispanic girl in a ruffled red
dress with a long flowing train came prancing out onto the stage
singing in a high-pitched but strained soprano voice.  She carried a
fan in one hand, and she waved and opened and closed the fan with great
verve as she strode back and forth.  At the end of each transit of the
stage, when she'd turn, she'd reach back with her free hand and toss
the train of her dress with a dramatic flourish.  Will ordered himself
another beer, climbed up onto a stool along the bar, and settled back
to enjoy the show.  After a while, the singer somehow detached the
train of the dress with one of those dramatic gestures and threw it
offstage.  She flounced the skirt a little, pulling here and there, and
somehow transformed it into a French dance hall dress.  The guitarist
made a valiant effort at the can-can while the singer struggled by
herself to do high kicks in time with the music.  It was all a little
hilarious, even as it was amateurish, even to one as inexperienced with
nightclub life as Will Lee.  He was thoroughly taken with the young
singer.  She was so pretty and so delicate.  He had not seen a woman
like this since he'd left the Eastern seaboard.  He wondered how she
managed out here in the rough and manly West.  In a way, he felt a
kinship with her: a young innocent amidst all these crude men.  He felt
embarrassed for her when, after she finished her act and was taking a
bow, one of the customers drunkenly called out, Show us your ass.

Who's the singer?  Will asked the bartender as the man was drawing him
another glass of beer.

Joelle, the bartender laughed.  That's what he calls himself.  Real
name's Joel.  Joel, Will thought.  And the bartender used a masculine
pronoun.  Is this young singer at The Yellow Rose Cantina also a
Two-Spirit Person like Nadleh?  To Will's dismay, when he turned back
with his beer in hand, he saw that the lovely young Joelle had gone
over to the man who'd made the rude call and was even now leading him
offstage with her by the hand.  With the other hand, the man was
digging in his pants pocket.  Little Will, innocent amidst all these
crude men, was not so dumb as to miss what was going on.  Indeed,
before this oddly matched couple disappeared into rooms in the saloon
behind the bar, he saw that Joelle stopped, took the little wad of
bills from the man's hand, counted them, and then stuffed them into her
bodice.  A common prostitute.  But is she a male?  Will was troubled,
but intrigued.  He decided he'd better get something to eat before he
got drunk.  He staggered over to one of the tables and told the waiter
he'd take the blue plate special, whatever it was.  He was more
intoxicated than he'd ever been before.  The hot, piquant Mexican food
that was soon placed before him helped clear his head.  It was
delicious.  The unusual and unfamiliar flavors reminded him he was in a
world he knew little about.  Better not to make any rash judgments. 
About ten minutes later, the man who'd followed Joelle came back out
and sat down hard in his seat, doffed off the rest of the beer in his
glass, and then lay across the little table next to the chair and fell
asleep.  Joelle, in a slinky low-cut dress of dark blue satin, strolled
out into the cantina. She walked around from table to table, joking and
flirting with the customers.  Several of the men patted her on the
behind or stroked her shoulder when she bent down at their table.  Will
was surprised.  If Joelle really is a male, all these sexual gestures
seem out of place. Joelle made it over to Will's table.  Instead of
just bending over to exchange a word or two, she pulled out a chair
opposite him and sat down.

Hallo, amigo, she said with a thick Mexican accent.  She boldly reached
across the table and stuck her finger into the helping of mashed beans
on Will's dinner plate.  Then, sensually and lasciviously licking the
beans off her finger, she said, You like the frijoles're fritos here? 
He didn't know how to answer.  He nodded in affirmation.

It is strange to see an Americano like you in here.  Did you come to
hear me singing?

Actually, I enjoyed your singing very much.  You have a beautiful
voice, he said.  Joelle batted her eyelids.  Me llamo Joelle.  It
sounds French, si?  You will enjoy my other talents as well.  I have a
cunt to make your cock feel good.  Your caj nes too can release all
their tension.  Will was taken aback.  He was drunk enough to say, I
heard your name is Joel.  Are you a boy?

Well, sure, amigo, Joelle replied, undaunted, but I'll make your cock
feel better than a woman.

Well, actually, Will answered, realizing he'd slurred the word into
something closer to egg-jewelry, I wouldn't know.  I've never been with
a woman.

Then you make love with other men?  she asked enthusiastically.  You
are so handsome and strong.  Look, your eyes, they are beautiful. 
Don't you want Joelle?  Trying to deflect her forceful proposition, he
answered her first question directly, I've made love with two, maybe
three men.

Oh, just a baby, Joelle teased.  I bet you are older than me.  I have
gone with hundreds of men.

I'm twenty-one, Will said.

I, I am only trece, ah, thirteen.

You're just a boy.

I am so pretty, Joelle said, turning her profile to him.  I like being
a girl.  Besides, it pays the bills.

Are you a Two-Spirit Person?  he asked innocently.

Yo no comprendo.  Will tried to remember the word Jesse and Roberto had
used.  Berdache?  Joelle shook her head, not understanding.  As if
answering some other question of her own devising, she went on, I only
go with machos hombres.  They want a feminista.  And I want a real man,
one who fucks women.  I only want them if they are virile.  They should
have a bunch of ni os running around and keep their wive pregnant.

Why be a whore to married men?  Will thought the word whore sounded
more biblical than prostitute.  His father had used the word whore from
the pulpit.

I take care of them when their wives are in their time of the month or
when they are not in the mood.  Among us Mexicanos, after a wife has a
ni o, she's not interested in more fucking with her man for a while.
It's unlucky for the little one.  That's when the man comes to me.  And
I make sure he goes back to his wife.  I keep those marriages together,
because he has no energy left for another woman by the time I'm through
with him.  A little loca like me, I can always bring the big hombre
down.  Don't you want to see?

I don't think so, Joelle, uh, Joel, Will answered.  I think you're too
loca for me.  He didn't know what that meant.  But it seemed to follow
from Joelle's words.

Then you will be my sister, Joelle declared gleefully.  Will wasn't
sure what that meant either, but it seemed to allay Joelle's sexual
come-on. She relaxed and then signaled to the waiter.  In a moment, he
brought her a drink.  You will buy me a whisky?  she asked.  Will
nodded to the waiter.  He didn't want to get bamboozled by this strange
character. But he was curious.  He'd managed to understand that the
Dineh spiritualized sex in a way that made sense of Nadleh's sexual
identity. But this was something different.

May I ask you a question, he asked.  Don't your customers object to
your being a boy?

Why should they?  Will didn't quite know how to ask this, so he just
blurted out the words his father would have used.  Because it makes
them sodomites, doesn't it?  Joelle laughed.  She turned to a man at
the next table.  Manuel is a satisfied customer, as you say.  Let's ask
him?  Manuel, she called out, are you a sodomite, a mar icon

What's mar icon  Will interrupted.

I am no mar icon Manuel slurred testily.  Nobody gets in my ass.

A mar icon is a boy who likes to get fucked, Joelle answered.

She is the mar icon Manuel leaned back in his chair and pointed with
his beer glass toward Joelle, a feminista, a bitcha.  She's no better
than a woman.  That's why we call her she, cause she lost her manhood
when she started getting fucked.

But if you have sex with her Will said logically.

Can't you see I'm not like her?  I have a wife and many ni osI've
proved my manhood.  Manuel was getting agitated.  As long as I use my
ver ga to stick it in the hole, what difference does it make if it's a
girl or boy who gets it?  The one who does the fucking--he is the man.
Don't you Americanos understand nothin ?

I'm sorry, sir, Will apologized.  Joelle turned toward Manuel and sat
up tall in her chair and arched her eyebrows.  Manuel Before she could
get out another word, Manuel stumbled out of his seat and came over to
Joelle and sort of put his arms around her.  He looked sheepishly at
Will and said, But we all love her Joelle pecked Manuel on the cheek,
then gestured at her bodice and rubbed her thumb and forefinger
together.  Swaying on his feet, Manuel struggled with his pocket.  In a
moment, he found a bill and held it up for Joelle to see, then stuck it
into the top of her dress.

I have them all by the caj nes, she proudly whispered to Will as Manuel
sat back down and returned his attention to his plate of frijoles.  I
make them happy as no woman can.  And with me they don't need to worry
about having more ni os to feed.  There was a certain logic to all
this. But still it seemed inequitable.  Reverend Lee would certainly
have declared Manuel at least as much the sodomite as Joelle.  In fact,
maybe more so, since he would be in the more responsible role.
Apparently, Mexican culture turned these issues on their head.  As he
had so often in the last few weeks, Will again marveled at how
different the world was from what he'd been led to believe in
provincial Lynchburg.

But are you happy?  he asked Joelle.

Who is happy?  Joelle answered sarcastically.  I'm eating breakfast and
supper.  That's all that matters.  She downed the rest of her drink and
got up.  Perhaps I will see you again.  Come back tomorrow to hear me
sing.  Will finished his plate of food, then headed straight back to
his hotel and went to sleep, troubled by his discovery of the Yellow
Rose Cantina.

Chapter Twelve

In the morning, bleary from all the beer he'd consumed at the cantina,
Will returned to the Superintendent's office.  He spent most of the
morning by himself in an adjoining room carefully rewriting his report
on the Bosque Redondo according to Dr.  Steck's suggestions.  Just
before noon, Steck called him to come have lunch in the larger office.
He had a picnic basket sitting on his desk.

My wife fixed fried chicken, he announced proudly as he opened the
basket.  When I told her about you, she insisted on making lunch.  She
said it was the least we could do.  You're a lucky young man, Will,
Steck chortled.  Agnes never fixes lunch for me.  She says I eat too
much anyway.

Please give Mrs.  Steck my regards then, Will said politely.  He asked
curiously, Is your wife out here in New Mexico with you?  I don't see
many women around.  This seems like a man's world.

Agnes is a remarkable woman.  When I got assigned to this post, she
insisted on following me out here.  We don't have children, you know,
so there was a certain freedom

It must be hard on the married men, Will commented, I mean, being out
here so far from home and having to leave their wives and families.

Are you married?

Oh, no, sir, Will answered.  He wasn't going to explain why that wasn't
entirely true.

Well, you seem like a nice young man.  I'm sure you'll find the right
girl.  Steck answered.  Though probably not out here in New Mexico, he
added.  So, tell me, Will, how are you liking Santa Fe?  Where do you
spend your time when you're not in there working for me?  He pointed
into the little office where Will had been penning the report.

Oh, the hotel is beautiful.  Most luxurious place I've ever seen in my
life, Will answered.  Thank you.

You're certainly welcome.  Is that all you've seen of our fair city?

Oh no, sir.  Last night I ate my supper at The Yellow Rose Cantina.  It
was very, uh, entertaining.

The Yellow Rose, hmm.  I don't mean to sound prudish, but may I give
you a piece of advice?

Of course, sir, Will answered.  Now I've said too much and am going to
get reprimanded.

You understand I was a physician before I took this assignment.  I was
a field surgeon at the start of the war.  Saw a little too much. 
That's why I retired from my medical practice and came out here with
Agnes to get away from all that.  But never mind my story.  I just want
to give you a little warning.  I know how it is to be a young man.  And
I, ah, know what kind of place The Yellow Rose is.

Sir?

Well, there are prostitutes there, I understand.

I don't know about that, Will fibbed.

That's good.  But you may find out.  And I think you have to know about
the dangers.

My father's a preacher.  I've heard him preaching about sin

Oh, no.  I'm not worried about your sinning.  You can take that up with
your father.  I'm talking about your health.  There are certain
diseases, like syphilis, that spread among the prostitutes.

Yes, sir, Will answered.  He remembered Barboncito had complained that
syphilis had spread among the Dineh from their contact with the Hairy
Faces.

I get consulted now and then, specially by folks around here who don't
want their case brought to the attention of the local physicians.  You
understand, people are embarrassed by the diseases of the reproductive
organs.  Why, not long ago, one of the padres from the mission, passing
through here on his way back to Mexico City, came to see me for the
drip.

The drip ?  While he and the doctor ate Agnes Steck's fried chicken,
Will was introduced to a branch of medicine about which he'd previously
heard nothing.  This subject had always been left to the priests and
preachers to educate the people about.  They had never done a very good
job of communicating this knowledge, Dr.  Steck pointed out, as the
case of his recent patient, the padre, demonstrated.

You know what the name Yellow Rose means?  Steck asked, chuckling after
he finished the medical lecture.

No, sir, I don't suppose I do.

It's a joke in these parts that there are so few women for all the men
and some of these cowboys are so hard up that they'll go with
practically anything.  Rose is a kind of mythical prostitute who's
turned yellow with the jaundice.

Liver disease?

Exactly.  And it's probably contagious.

That's not a very funny joke.   Right, young man.  It is not a very
funny joke.  *** Late in the afternoon, his hand aching from holding
the quill, Will left the office and stopped by The Yellow Rose Cantina.
 The bartender was sweeping the floor.  Will asked about Joelle.

She's not ready yet.  You come back later.

That's all right.  I only want to talk.  She, uh, invited me to come
see her.  Once again, he fudged the truth just a little, but with good
intention.  The bartender pointed to the back door and grunted.  Will
headed backstage.  The door led to a hallway with doors opening off
both sides.  The hall was dark.

Joelle?  he called out.

In here, came a muffled answer.  He followed the sound about halfway
down the hall.  To his left, he saw one of the doors open just a
little.

Joelle?

Come in.  I am almost done.  Will let himself into the dimly lit room.
A candle provided all the light there was.  He discovered he had
entered a bathroom.  A young man was standing up in the tub.  The
bather reached out daintly, apparently for assistance in climbing out
of the tin basin.  Ah, it is the Americano.

My name's Will, Will Lee.

Buenos dias, se or.  You are early.  Will couldn't help looking at
Joel's body.  He was thin and, save for a sparse patch of pubic hair,
smooth and hairless.  Without the dress and makeup he'd worn last
night, Joel looked delicate, but clearly masculine.  In fact, Will
thought, he's quite handsome.

I came by to apologize.  I didn't mean to insult you.

But you didn't Joel reached for a towel hanging on the hook by the tub
and began to dry himself.

Well, I mean, by asking, you know, about your being a sodomite and
all

No imp orta  I know what I am, Joel answered matter-of-factly.  While
Joel dried himself, Will stood by watching.  Though he was enjoying
Joel's ease with his nakedness, he was becoming increasingly
uncomfortable.  I really liked your performance, he finally said.
Thanks for coming over and talking to me.

You were a new face--y una caro bonito.  Joel wrapped the towel around
himself, tucked up under the arms as a woman would.

I don't speak enough Spanish to know what you just said, Will
admitted.

I said you have a pretty face.

Oh, well, thank you.  He was embarrassed, though flattered.  He changed
the subject, saying, I wish I could speak Spanish.  I feel like a
foreigner.

If you live in Santa Fe, se or, you should speak espa ol.

Si, Will answered, almost getting the pronounciation right.  Joel
laughed.  He walked past Will and led him out of the bathroom, through
the hall, and into what appeared to be a dressing room and bedroom.  He
stopped in the doorway and--letting the character of Joelle show
through--did a curtsy and gestured archly with his right hand, Mi
boudoir, he said, mixing Spanish and French to Will's confusion.  Will
stepped into the room.  There were a couple of gowns like the ones Joel
wore last night hanging from pegs in the wall; there was a small
dressing stool and table strewn with vials and boxes of makeup; and
there was a bed.  Will was conscious of what that bed was used for.

I will teach you, Joel exclaimed dramatically.  I have a great
tongue.

Teach me what?  Will had started to sit on the corner of the bed, but
decided instead to stand.

Espa ol, Joel answered.

You know, I don't live in Santa Fe.  I'm just visiting.  I'm the Indian
Agent to the Navajos down at the Bosque Redondo Reservation.

Ah, I think I have heard of this place, Joel answered.  He pulled off
the towel and began to dress himself in ordinary male attire.  There is
a fort there?  Some of the soldiers from there have been to see me, he
added suggestively.  Fort Sumner, Will supplied the name, amazed and
amused to learn something about the soldiers he would not have
expected.

So.  How are the Navajos?  Joel asked.  Will started answering that
question.  He had a lot to say about the subject.  After all, he'd
spent the day writing all this out for his report.  At first, Joel
seemed only to half-listen.  He busied himself around the room; then he
invited Will to follow him to another room along the same little
hallway.  This one had a couple of chairs in it.  Will kept talking.
After a bit, Joel actually seemed to get interested.  When he was
describing Nadleh, Joel was sitting on the edge of his seat.

The Navajos consider people like you to be special, Will said
earnestly.  They are looked up to as sacred people.  They are healers
and religious leaders.  The man I love--her name is Nadleh--is what you
called a mar icon like you.  But among her people, rather than being an
entertainer in a cabaret and a prostitute, she uses her talents to make
many contributions to her community and to her family.

I have no familia, Joel answered downcast.  Mi padre never liked that I
was feminista.  I stayed with mi madre in the kitchen.  Ever since I
was seven years old, the older boys all wanted to fuck me.  They
treated me like a girl.  But when I finally let them have it--I was
eleven--they bragged about it, and mi padre heard.  He threw me out. Mi
madre cried, but I had to leave.

I hitched up with some cowboys.  I did the cooking for them.  They
fucked me, too.  But they were nice about it.  It was with the cowboys
I really learned to like sex.  But I didn't like living on the range

I can sympathize, Will interrupted.

It was hard work.  So when we came to Santa Fe one time, I met this
guitar player.  He liked my voice and showed me how to dance and sing
for him.  The cantina owner lets me have these rooms if I will just
sing for the customers and give them sex when they want.  I miss mi
madre.  I think sometimes I am very lonely.  But this is my life.

Joel, Will said hesitantly, I was talking with a doctor today.  He was
telling me about the diseases that come with sex

Ay, I know.  I worry about this.  In fact though, it is not so bad.  I
really don't let most of the men fuck me.  They think they do.  But
they are usually so drunk.  Some of them, I think, never know I am
really a boy.  I squeeze my legs together real hard, and they think
they are fucking a woman.

They don't know any better.  They usually can't squirt.  So I have to
take them in my hand anyway.  See, I know about these things.  Men are
such fools.  Joel laughed hard.  Will could hear pain behind the
laughter.  Will found Joel easy to talk with, at least in the identity
of Joel.  Joelle was more of strain.  Though as they talked, Joel led
them back to the dressing room and applied his makeup for the evening
performance.  Will wished there were something he could do for Joel. He
felt as though the boy were like a younger sister who needed
protection.

I have an idea, Joel said.  If I could get me a horse, I could go out
and become a trader, taking supplies to trade with the cowboys.  I
don't want to be a cowboy, but I would like to visit them now and then.
I don't like being in town all the time.  Working in the cantina here
is fun.  But it is not enough for my future.  I need a profession. 
Maybe I could even visit mi madre.  If I return as a prosperous trader,
mi padre would have to accept me.  But how would I buy a horse?  I can
never save any money.  Working at the cantina I always spend everything
in my pocket.  In response to Joelle's talk about her strapped
financial situation, Will offered to buy her supper.  The business in
the cantina was beginning to pick up.  Then, after two plates of
tamales and beans had been placed before them on the table, he said, I
have a business proposition for you.

Now you want to fuck me?  Joelle asked.

Oh, no, not like that, Will hastened to say.  Earlier, when I first got
here today, you said you could teach me to speak Spanish.  Maybe it was
just a joke.  But I haven't got much to do during the day.  Tomorrow
I'll finish my job for Dr.  Steck.  I may be in Santa Fe another week
or two.  What if I paid you to teach me?  I've been getting a paycheck
from the government, and I don't have much to spend it on.  I'd like to
spend it on you, Joel.  I mean, so I could learn the language.  I'll
pay you by the hour, he specified, however much you have time for.

I have to sing at the cantina.

Of course.

And you will pay me cash, just like my other customers

No, I don't want to pay you cash.  I want to set up an account for you
at the bank.  Then you can save up to buy a horse.

Bueno, Joelle exclaimed.

I don't know if I can guarantee you prosperity.  But if you will work
hard to help me learn, I promise I will help you save some money.  One
other thing, Will said, I want you to come to my hotel, and I want you
to dress as a boy.  I don't think the hotel would approve if they
thought I was bringing in a whore every day.

Yo tam poco  And you will call me Joel?

Right.

You need to give me a quarter now as an advance.

All right, Will agreed, handing the boy the coin and wondering why he
would require an advance.  Did Will have to guarantee a reservation for
Joel's time?  He stayed to hear Joelle's first song.  But then after
only one beer this night, he went home.  I want my mind clear for my
Spanish lesson.  *** Joel arrived, as planned, just after lunch.  They
would only work a half day this first day.  Will had had reports to
write at the Indian Affairs office in the morning.  Will was waiting
in the shaded garden in front of the lobby when he saw Joel coming up
the front walk.  He went out to meet him.  Joel immediately handed him
a brand new little booklet printed in Spanish.

This is what the quarter was for, isn't it?  Will asked, proud of the
boy for having had the good sense to purchase the book in advance.  It
made the first lesson much easier for Will.  After an hour, he was
comfortably greeting everybody they passed with Buenos dias or Como
esta us ted The second day of lessons went even better.  Will was
enjoying the challenge, and Joel seemed to be enjoying the legitimate
employment.  They spent the morning in the hotel, then went for a walk.
They were headed to the bank to open Joel's account.  As they walked,
Joel talked on and on in Spanish while Will struggled to understand.
Confident of the boy's intention and determined to make a real
difference in his life, Will put down what amounted to a full week's
salary for the opening deposit.  Joel's eyes lit up when he saw the
amount in the passbook he was given.

I'm not going to touch this money until I have saved enough for a horse
and some saddle blankets.  Then I will trade the blankets to the
cowboys for a cow.  Then I will bring the cow back to Santa Fe to sell
it and buy more blankets.  Soon I will be rich.

I have a friend who is a cowboy.  His name is Roberto.  I will
introduce you.  As they left the bank, Joel offered to show Will around
Santa Fe.  They would continue their lessons while they strolled.  It
was a lovely day.  In spite of being surrounded by desert, Santa Fe,
because it was situated in the mountains, had a relatively temperate
climate.  Will imagined the Dineh homelands must have been similiarly
blessed.  No wonder the Indians want to go home.  When they came by the
U.S. Government Land Office, Joel stopped.  He called Will's attention
to a map of the New Mexico Territory in the window.  Joel found a list
of geographical expressions in the little Spanish booklet.  As they
were going over the words, they searched for examples on the map.  This
exercise got them talking about the location of Fort Sumner and, in
turn, the distance from there to the Navajo homelands.  Will found the
Canyon de Chelly, far to the west of Santa Fe.  He had never seen these
locations on a map.  Barboncito's story of the suffering of the Long
Walk now made much more sense to him.  He was beginning to get an
appreciation for the expanse of what was called the West.

A couple of weeks ago, Joel commented, I was looking at this map with a
customer of mine from the cantina.  He had offered to buy me lunch if I
would meet him in the morning.  That is when he liked it.

He told me he worked as a foreman for a rich man who was buying mineral
rights to the land out there.  Joel pointed to the places on the map,
in the northwest corner of the Territory where Will had said the
Navajos came from.  He boasted he would bring me a gold nugget some
day, and he could buy my services for a whole week.  You say that is
Indian land.  My friend--he may get his scalp cut off.

Well, first of all, Joel, the Navajos do not practice scalping.  So
your friend is safe.  Besides, the Indians all got moved out of there
by the army.

Was that so the army could get the gold?  Joel asked innocently.

Well, I wonder.  Can you remember anything else your customer said?

I don't know.  He was bragging about how much gold and silver his boss
thought there was out there.  The boss was apparently buying shares in
the operation.  My friend was also bragging about how rich his boss
was.  He was paying a lot of money for his share.

Do you know who this man was buying the shares from?

I don't know.  He probably said the name.  I don't remember.  I am a
whore.  I am not a spy.  Will wanted to be a spy.  He directed their
stroll so they would pass the Chavez Store.  Through the window he
could see Jesse standing behind the counter.  Behind him, placing
merchandise on the shelves, was Roberto Calderon.

Joel, let's go in here.  This is the cowboy I want you to meet.  After
making introductions, and seeing that the store had momentarily emptied
out of customers, Will asked Jesse if perchance he'd heard rumors of a
mining operation in the lands to the west.

We sell all kinds of supplies for prospectors, you know, Jesse replied.
Now it's supposed to be secret, but I been hearin some rich investors
are planning to bring gold and silver out of there.  To tell you the
truth, Will, since you're a friend of Roberto s, I'd thought about
stocking up on gold pans and prospectin equipment.  Seemed like it'd be
a great opportunity for business if we started a gold rush round here.
But Lupe talked me out of it.  She said we ain't seen no gold nuggets
yet, and it wouldn't be fair to get people's hopes up.  There's enough
disappointment out here as it is.  While Jesse was talking, Lupe came
up behind him from the back.  She was carrying little Maria at her
breast.

Besides, Lupe broke in, I heard this land is not going to be opened up
for prospecting.  They say some army generals have got the land all
tied up.  And soldiers might be sent out to shoot trespassers.

Lupe's got a good point, Jesse said.  If the generals and the land
speculators around here are trying to get first claim on this land,
they might not take too kindly to anybody round here announcing a gold
rush.  We got a good enough business right here.  Some of those land
speculators are regular customers.  I don't want to make any enemies.

That seems fair enough, Will observed.  But he pressed his questions a
little further.  Lupe, do you know who these generals might be that've
got the land tied up?

Yo no se, Lupe answered.  Will felt proud of himself for understanding
every word.

Well, you know who occasionally comes to town and wines and dines with
the speculators, Jesse said, is that Indian fighter name o James C.
Carleton.   Will, Joel, who'd been talking with Roberto, broke in, You
asked me earlier who was selling the shares in the mining operation.
That is it, the name my customer said.  Carleton.  I am almost sure.  I
remember he said the man was an Indian fighter

Isn the the commander of that fort where you're stationed?  Jesse
asked.

Yes, he is, Will answered.  He couldn't help thinking of the old
nursery rhyme about the boy who stuck his finger in the pie, came up
with a plum, and said, Oh, what a good boy am I. Joel had been telling
Roberto all about his plans to sell supplies to the cowboys.  Roberto
thought it was a great idea and said he'd like to help.  In fact, while
Will was fishing unsuccessfully for more information on General
Carleton, Roberto interrupted to ask Jesse if he could act as a
traveling salesman for the Chavez Store.  Echoing a comment Joel had
made to Will yesterday, Roberto said he liked working for the Chavezes,
but that he missed his life on the open range.  If he went in with
Joel, maybe they could both enjoy the best of both situations.  Will
hoped his introducing his two friends to each other might help both of
them.  But he was really too preoccupied with his discoveries to think
about that now.  Indeed, when Jesse got pulled into trade negotiations
with Joel and Roberto, he excused himself.  He told Joel he'd see him
in the morning.  In the meantime, he wanted to pay a visit to Dr.
Steck.  ***

Sir, you expressed curiosity about why General Carleton would associate
with land speculators.  Well, I think I know.  I've heard that Carleton
is selling mineral rights to the Indian lands and gathering investors
to finance a mining operation there.

Oh, you have ?  Steck asked leadingly.

Uh, Will hesitated--he wasn't sure how to state this-wouldn't that be
against the law?

It certainly could be, young man.  At least, I would think it would be
unethical for Carleton to profit personally from his role as military
commander.  Do you have something in mind?

Well, I was just thinking, he answered, that maybe we could notify his
superiors in the War Office of this rumor

Carleton's a powerful man, Steck opined, I doubt a rumor is going to
threaten his job.

But it doesn't seem fair for Carleton to take the Indian lands and
profit from it himself.  If there's gold and silver, doesn't it belong
to the Indians?

Well, son, I don't know that I can rightly agree with that, Dr.  Steck
answered.  The land's been claimed for the United States of America.  I
think the mineral rights probably belong to the government.

But the government stole it from the Indians.

That's one way of looking at it, but I don't think that's such a
popular way.

Well, Will argued, it certainly isn't right for General Carleton to
take the Indian lands for himself and then starve the Indians to death
out in the desert.

I could agree with you about that, the Superintedent replied.  The
Union is spending a lot of money for the Indians care.  Probably this
gold--if there is any, mind you--ought to go back to the government to
reimburse expenses.

But Carleton's not spending the money on the Indians, Will practically
shouted.

Yes, I know that's what your reports indicate.

Do you believe me?

Yes, Steck hesitated.  Yes, yes.  I do.

So where is the money going?  Into General Carleton's private bank
accounts?

Now, now, son, we don't have any evidence

Please, Dr.  Steck, I'm not asking this for myself.  I'm trying to do
something for those poor Navajos out there dying in the desert.

I understand.  And, I suppose, I agree with you.  I don't like Jim
Carleton.  He's a high-handed son of a bitch and a pompous ass.  But,
Will, he's got political support.

What does that mean?

Look here, Steck went over to his desk and searched through a pile of
papers.  I was going to show you these

What is it?

I got back a reply on the telegraph.  You know, I'd sent a message to
Senator Sumner, as you suggested.  And I sent a message to a friend of
mine in the Interior Department.  I thought it a good idea to bypass
Jesse McDonald.

Yes, sir, Will answered, glad to see that Steck had trusted his
perceptions.  He was anxious to hear.

Sumner replied: I abhor slavery in every form.  But cannot side with
Indians.  Send more information.  Well, at least we've got his ear. And
I'll send him that report you wrote.

And the other reply?  Will asked.  He was disappointed Senator Sumner
hadn't immediately called for an investigation and had Carleton
removed.

My friend Jack Osborne says, Budgeted for 8577 Indians.  From 1865
census.  Carleton has powerful allies.  If evidence of wrongdoing
available, send me.  But won't risk my neck.  Sorry, Mike.  Yours
truly, Jack.   That doesn't sound very helpful.  But, look, sir, the
population figures aren't right anymore.

It looks like he hasn't accounted for attrition all right.  But, Will,
I think that was your responsibility as Agent to correct

My reports weren't being sent, sir, Will snapped back.  And what you
call attrition is people's lives.

So it is.  Well, Osborne says he'll look at evidence.  You've got to
understand, son, that you need solid evidence.  You can't expect the
government to remove a military commander just on your word.

But, it's not my word, Will said defensively.  It's as clear as day
that the Indians are being mistreated.

That won't get a lot of sympathy from Washington.

How about from you?  Will challenged.

I want to see them kept peaceful so they can finally be incorporated
into civilized society.  Will was once again reminded of Changing
Woman's advice for how to fight this cause.

If General Carleton is defrauding the government

I would be the first to call for his removal.  But, Will, you heard
Jack Osborne's words.  Carleton has powerful allies.

You mean the men he's selling the mineral rights to?

Those are certainly among them.

Would you be willing to help, shall we say, eliminate some of his
powerful allies?  You know some of these men, don't you?  Steck sat
down in his chair.  He peered out the window a moment.  Will thought he
was probably wrestling with his conscience.

Yes, I do know some of them.  Socially anyway.  And yes I guess I would
be willing to help.  So long as it's nothing illegal.

Oh, no, sir, Will said, But, look, I've got an idea.  *** The next
Sunday evening, Will arrived promptly at seven-thirty p.m. at the adobe
hacienda about two miles from the middle of town that was the home of
Michael and Agnes Steck.  It was simple, but--save for the Sangre de
Cristo Hotel--the most comfortable place he had been in since leaving
home.  Except for the uniform whiteness of the walls and the unusual
construction demanded by the building materials, this house might well
have been that of a high-ranking government official back in Virginia.
Already a few of the guests had arrived.  The Stecks were hosting an
elegant dinner party for some of the prominent citizens of Santa Fe.
Michael Steck, Will discovered, had been welcomed by the upper crust of
the city not because he was Superintendent of Indian Affairs but
because he was a physician.  Doctors were rare.  Though Steck was no
longer practicing, just as he had helped the passing missionary with an
embarrassing ailment, so he sometimes attended members of the city's
upper-class society.  In preparation for the evening, Will had devised
a disguise for himself.  He had let his beard grow for several
days--now he really was a Hairy Face, he joked with himself -and he'd
found a pair of weak spectacles for sale at the Chavez Store.  He was
not sure the disguise was necessary.  But when the trader with the
shock of red hair, whom he'd seen in General Carleton's office, turned
up among the dinner guests, he was glad he'd decided on it.  He was
introduced as Agent Lee Williams, a surveyor, metallurgist, and
geologist sent out from Washington to evaluate various sites in the New
Mexico Territory. According to the story Dr.  Steck told so well, this
Mr.  Williams from the Department of the Interior happened to be
passing through Santa Fe after visiting the northwestern parts of the
Territory.  The host of the party let it seem a last-minute invitation
that brought Mr. Williams to this august gathering.  Will was a little
nervous, but excited.  Worried that he'd forget to answer to a
fictitious name, he'd chosen a pseudonym based on his real name.  He
was also worried he'd be asked something specific or scientific about
prospecting or metal extraction.  He knew nothing about the subject. 
But at every opportunity Dr.  Steck kept insisting that the dinner
guests not discuss business.  Steck did not let himself get too far
from Will throughout the evening, so he was almost always there to
deflect any question about gold and silver prospects in the Territory. 
And, of course, the more Steck prevented questions, the more the guests
wanted answers.  Then dinner was served: wild turkey roasted on a spit
out in back of the house with several unusual vegetables that looked
like cactus and roots, prepared by Agnes Steck's housekeeper, an Indian
woman who reminded Will of Dezba.  This was not an Easterner's turkey
dinner.  But it came close.  Will imagined this was the cuisine the
Dineh would have enjoyed back home.  After a dessert of fresh
strawberries and cream, the ladies who'd come with their husbands went
with Mrs.  Steck to the back parlor to gossip, while the men moved out
to the wide veranda across the front of the house to smoke cigars and
sip brandy.  When Dr.  Steck offered a toast to welcome their visitor,
one of the men spoke up finally, I understand you want to relax after
your expedition, sir.  But can you just tell us briefly what you will
conclude in your report to Washington?

I'm not at liberty to discuss my finding before I make my report, Will
temporized one last time just to whet the curiosity to a keen edge. But
I understand some of you may have interests in the financial prospects
of this Territory.  It's beautiful land you have here

Yes, yes.  The heavy-set man with a brandy snifter in one hand and a
cigar in the other tried to hurry him to answer his question.

Well, if I may speak confidentially, just for the present company
Steck interrupted.  I must insist everyone here make their solemn
oath, as gentlemen, that whatever Mr.  Williams says will not go beyond
this gathering.  Perhaps the future of the Territory is at stake.

Here, here, spoke up several of the onlookers.

In actual fact, Will got to the meat of his plan, I have to say there
is not much to report.  My team looked for potential geological
excavation sites, and we saw only a few locations which gave any
evidence of possible silver or gold deposits.  Preliminary surveys at
each of these sites proved to be unproductive.  You understand we were
looking at the lands previously controlled by the Navajo Indians, so I
can only speak for those lands.  But I would have to say, gentlemen,
that I see very little hope for success with precious metal
speculation.  There was an audible gasp among the men.

But General Carleton has spoken of great likelihood of both gold and
silver deposits there, protested one of the men.  Perhaps pushing the
ruse too far, but unable to help himself, Will looked quizzical.
General Carleton?  Can't say I know his name.  He turned to their host.
Dr.  Steck, perhaps you can enlighten me?

Carleton's at Fort Sumner, down south of here.

Oh, yes, Will said.  Perhaps I do recognize the name

But Jim Carleton owns all that land out there you said you were
surveying someone said.

Is that so?  Will replied.  That's odd.  I am certain that land belongs
to the government, if not to the Navajos.

I've paid Carleton for mineral rights out there, another spoke up.

Well, sir, I'm sorry to question the general.  Perhaps there's been a
misunderstanding.  I am speaking as a scientist, not a businessman. But
frankly, if I were you, I would not put one penny on the chance of
getting it back in mining profits from those lands.  I hope none of you
have placed significant sums into such purchases.  Those Navajo lands
out around Fort Defiance are good for nothing better than to give back
to the Indians.  Will gathered up all his integrity and innocence for
the final climax, In all honesty, I can tell you gentlemen, I have
never found one single speck of gold or silver on any of the Navajo
lands.  There was a hubbub throughout the gathering.  I'll be damned,
someone said, Carleton took me for a fool.  From another: I always
suspected Carleton was a crook.  The big man with red hair rebutted the
accusations.  Jim's always been fair with me.  I can't complain.  The
commissary officer's been overstating the size of the beef rations for
the damned Indians, and Jim's been fairly splitting the difference with
me every month.  He's no crook as far as I'm concerned.  No wonder
Carleton had been in a good mood that day I saw the red-haired trader
in the office.  Another spoke up: I bet he thought there were riches
out there.  That's why he cleared the redskins out.  But when he
discovered there was nothing, he tried to sell it to us!

Tried to?  an angry voice responded, Damn it, he did.  Dr.  Steck put
up his hands and gestured to the group to quiet down.  I must insist we
have imposed too much already on Mr.  Williams.  You are asking him to
go beyond the bounds of what a geologist can say.  I think we should
let him retire Will couldn't resist one more comment.  I'm very sorry
to be the bringer of bad news.  I had no idea you would have been
expecting a different report.  Haven't you seen the land out there? 
It's very beautiful, especially the Canyon.  I thought you merchants
here would be pleased with my findings that there are some lands in
that sector for grazing cattle and spacious areas for sheep and goat
herding.  Why, Santa Fe could become the wool capital of the country

Wool, somebody spat.  Who wants wool?

The Indians seem very good at weaving it Will said.  But the men had
lost interest in his comments and were animatedly talking among
themselves.

Good night, gentlemen, Dr.  Steck announced.  Thank you for coming.
After the party, both Will and Steck believed they had successfully
undercut General James Carleton's political and economic power.  His
previous allies were not so likely to exert influence to defend him if
any evidence of real wrongdoing could be found against him now.

You understand, Will, Dr.  Steck reiterated, it isn't enough to get
some people mad at him.  You may only have gotten yourself in trouble
tonight.  If you say Carleton's defrauding the government and abusing
the Indians, then you've got to be able to prove it in a court of
law.

Well, how am I going to be able to do that?

We need something in writing, something from Carleton's own hand.  If
you could get a receipt signed by him showing he took money for Indian
services and, say, deposited it into his own bank account

Isn't the suffering of the Dineh proof he isn't serving them?

Dineh?  Oh, the Navajos.  Well, how are you going to take that into a
courtroom?

What are we going to do?  Will pleaded.

Son, I think you are going to have to go back down there to Fort Sumner
and find evidence.  There's bound to be all sorts of records around
there.

But how am I going to get to see them?   Marshal your resources. 
You're a clever young man.  You did well tonight.  Tell them you're
doing a report for me He wanted to object that General Carleton wasn't
going to cooperate with any kind of investigation he might say he'd
been instructed to do, especially by the Territorial Superintendent. 
But what was the point of arguing?  He knew what he had to get for
Steck. He thought about the man's advice to marshal his resources.  I
don't have any idea how Nadleh and the Dineh can help, but they are
certainly my resources.  And I've seen Nadleh can come up with some
unexpected resources of her own.  *** The next morning, Will cancelled
his Spanish lesson.  He thanked Joel and gave him a receipt showing
he'd put another week's pay into the bank account.  I promise I'll be
back to collect on the lessons.  He went over to the Chavez Store to
ask Roberto to consider accompanying him back to Fort Sumner.  Roberto
urged him to go on his own.  You can do it, Se or Will, you did real
good coming up here.  Me?  I got duties now here at the store.  And
Joel and me are going into the trading business together.  I have no
reason to leave Santa Fe.  Roberto was right that there was no reason
for him to go with Will.  He would then have to go on to El Paso or
return to Santa Fe alone.  Why shouldn't I be the one to travel the
distance by myself?  I m not the incompetent fool I'd been when I first
arrived in the West. So, after collecting his things and buying a few
supplies from Lupe, Will retrieved Barboncito's horse from the Sangre
de Cristo's stables. The horse had eaten well during their two-week
stay in Santa Fe.  Will thought it probably looked healthier than it
ever had.  He felt proud he'd be returning the steed in such good
condition.  The horse seemed eager to get underway.  It probably felt
cooped up in all this civilization.  By mid-morning, Will was on his
way back to Fort Sumner and Nadleh.  The three and a half day journey
was one of the most intense experiences of his life.  By the afternoon
of the third day of constant riding during all his waking hours, Will
was in a kind of daze.  There was a hawk that flew above him, high in
the sky, for many hours.  The bird was obviously tracking him.  And at
first he feared it had mistaken him for prey.  Then it occurred to him
that, from the bird's point of view, that might not have been a
mistake.  Finally, though, he realized, the bird was protecting him. 
He'd passed beyond his early fears of being alone in the desert to an
almost delirious joyfulness in being out there splendidly free and
bouyed up by nature.  Soon it was easy to see how the bird overhead was
protecting and guiding him.  For a while, Will began to fancy seeing
from the hawk's point of view.  He imagined himself flying over the
strange landscape.  It reminded him of the vision he'd had his first
day at Fort Sumner.  The horse, too, seemed to possess a personality
all of its own.  Most of the time, it acted simply like a well-trained
mount; in fact, it seemed to sense Will's inexperience in riding and to
accommodate him.  But occasionally the animal seemed preoccupied with
other exigencies than Will's comfort.  Once it abruptly stopped in the
middle of nowhere.  It peaked its ears and slowly scanned the horizon
back and forth.  For well over ten minutes it stood, oblivious to
Will's efforts to spur it on, but then, as if satisfied, the horse
resumed the journey.  Will wondered if they had come upon wandering
ghosts which the horse knew to let pass undisturbed.  On the afternoon
of the second day, the horse, unbidden, broke into a headlong gallop. 
Will clung to the horse's strong neck, finally himself moving from fear
to exhileration, as the animal careened, occasionally neighing
triumphantly, as fast as it could run for what seemed like hours.  The
Indians had talked to Will about the coming-of-age rituals in their
culture in which they went out alone into the desert or the mountains
to seek the presence of their guiding spirit.  Will imagined they did
Indian religious practices, chanting and drumming.  I don't suppose
they just ride all day, but this journey is certainly proving to be
such a coming-of-age for me.  Will had never seen landscapes like
these.  The stark and barren mountains around him looked as if their
skeletons were showing through.  Rock formations were carved out of the
sandstone by wind and water.  In these formations, Will began to see
faces.  He knew it was just imagination, but the vision became very
powerful.  He saw these were the faces of the dead, crying out in their
anguish.  At first, he saw the dead among the Dineh and sensed the pain
and anger of the restless ghosts.  Then he also saw the dead among the
white settlers and the Hispanics who'd colonized the territory under
the direction of the Spanish Conquistadors and the Franciscan
missionaries.  He saw hooded and helmeted figures brooding in the
ravaged shapes of the rocks.  They, too, cried out that there had been
too much death.  There were so many unhappy ripples in the
spirit-field.  Will understood that he somehow could be loyal to both
sides.  He remembered Nadleh's story of how Turquoise Boy had brought
the men and women back together.  He hoped he could help bring the
Indians and the white men together.  Will rode as late as he could. 
But after nightfall even the horse had a difficult time finding its
way.  Without a moon overhead, the nights were darker than anything
Will had ever seen in Virginia.  Here the skies were not blue at night,
but black as pitch.  There were more stars than he'd ever imagined
possible.  Sometimes he sang.  He did all the hymns he could remember
from his daddy's church.  In his spiritual deliriousness, the songs all
took on new meaning to him.  Now those songs about God and Jesus and
about loving your neighbor and receiving blessing seemed to be about
Changing Woman and Turquoise Boy and about achieving an historic
victory and saving a people from extinction.  The God that had seemed
so distant to him as a child, a white-bearded ruler on a great golden
throne, now seemed as present to him as the brilliant sun that filled
the sky over his head during the day.  How have I ever failed to
realize the sun is god?  It's from the warmth of the bright burning
star overhead that all life grows on earth.  Even in this blazing heat,
that's obvious.  The lush woods back home, the grassy pr aires this
barren desert--the plants, the birds in the air, the fishes in the sea,
and animals on the land--all are incarnations of the light pouring down
from heaven.  And, in us human beings, somehow, that life has become
conscious of itself and has begun to imagine the source of life is
personal, like a parent.  But it's not.  The personality is in us.  Not
out there.  Will felt a wonderful relief that the sun was not personal.
This God he glimpsed had no opinions, didn't care a whit about what he
did, didn't judge or condemn.  God just radiated life. The sun is the
source of life.  The earth is its manifestations: father and mother. 
That's what Changing Woman is.  Not some personal goddess out there
somewhere, but nature itself.  Mother Nature.  That's why she's
changing, Will realized.  Nature is always in flux.  The days go by.
The seasons roll past.  Time is gone before you are even aware of its
passing.  When Nadleh says Changing Woman speaks to her, she means she
sees in the round of nature the clues for how to live the right life,
the life that honors and participates in Mother Nature's ongoing life.
I'm always in the presence of God, Will rejoiced to himself, weary with
travel and dazed by the heat and brightness.  And all around me is
beauty, beauty before me, beauty behind me, beauty above me and beauty
below me.

Chapter Thirteen

When Will arrived at the Bosque Redondo Reservation, just at twilight,
he skirted the fort.  He didn't want Carleton or any of the soldiers to
see him.  Perhaps they'd never missed him.  At any rate, what he'd been
doing was none of their business.  He went right to Nadleh's hogan.  He
was hungry and wanted to eat more than anything.  But there was another
part of him that hoped Nadleh would be waiting for him with the
sheepskins laid out on the floor, ready to take him in her arms.  When
he entered, however, he found Nadleh was not alone.  With her were
Dezba and Barboncito and several of the adult Navajos he'd come to know
as part of this family.

We've been waiting for you, Nadleh said.  She embraced him in the kind
of stooped way possible inside the low-ceilinged hogan.  Will wondered
how they could have known he'd be arriving this evening, if that's what
Nadleh meant by waiting for you.  In his state of mind, he explained to
himself that the hawk that had been following him must have told the
Indians he was coming.

Tell us what happened, Dezba and Barboncito asked almost
simultaneously.  Dezba gave him a piece of jerky to chew on and water
in an earthen cup.  Without taking a pause, Will started in on the
story. Ahalf hour later, he was finishing his tale.  So I did not learn
anything about the circumstances of my appointment.  And we somehow
have to get physical evidence that Carleton is a crook.  I don't know
how we'll do that.  There was a period of awkward silence.  Then Nadleh
smiled comfortably and said, You have done well, my husband.  Will
relaxed.  He felt such affection from her.  It made all his hardship
worthwhile.  We have prepared the sweat lodge for your return.  Let us
go now.

Oh, Nadleh, Will said, I don't think I can do that.  I'm exhausted.

You are weak from your travels, Will.  You need purification.  The
sweat will take all the poison from you from being around the Hairy
Faces.  Will felt his cheeks.  He'd grown a beard for disguise and now
had another four days growth.  He was pleased to think that Nadleh saw
beyond this fact.

Changing Woman awaits you in the sweat lodge.  She will reward you and
give you comfort.  She will help you fulfill your mission.  He saw he
could not resist Nadleh.  If he had paid just a little more attention,
in Nadleh's last sentence he might have perceived a hint as to what was
about to happen--sooner than he'd expected.  But he had not, and so,
becoming almost joyful in his exhaustion, he followed the Indians to
the sweat lodge.  It was dark now.  The sky was brilliant with stars.
Near the lodge, a fire blazed yellow and orange.  Will marveled how the
colors of the flame flickered across the shell of the lodge and across
the bodies of the Indians.  His senses seemed particularly acute.
Before they entered the sweat, the Indians formed a circle around the
fire pit  Nadleh drummed and chanted.  After a while, a bowl was passed
around, and they all drank from it.  Will recognized it as the bitter
potion they'd sipped before to make them purge poisons from their
bodies.  Tonight, in spite of its familiar bitterness, he did not find
it offensive and drank deeply.  The vomiting that followed felt good to
him.  He did not gag at all, but simply opened his throat and allowed
his body to empty itself.  Soon his head cleared.  He felt awake, fully
alive.  He was no longer tired.  He no longer wanted food.  He was
still hungry, but the hunger was for knowledge and for victory.  Nadleh
sprinkled water on the participants, as before, as they entered the
lodge.  Will took his place in the circle.  He was naked now, and the
nakedness felt comfortable.  For two weeks, he'd been dressed up like a
city dweller all the time.  What a relief to shed the artificial skin
and be myself again!  The hot rocks were pushed into the lodge.  The
sacred herbs burned fragrant.  Water sizzled on the rocks and filled
the lodge with steam.  The Indians sang and chanted and prayed.  Now
beyond his control, Will's consciousness moved out of his body to
encompass the whole space of the lodge.  He couldn't tell where his
body began or ended.  It didn't seem to matter.  Soon he felt the
presence of Changing Woman in the heat.  Then the flap flew open, and
cool air rushed in.  It brought him back to his senses just a bit.  He
thought about the night outside.  It thrilled him to remember the past
few nights of sleeping alone in the desert with the huge sky above him.
The stars were so icy cold in their distance, Will shivered.  When the
flap closed and the heat surrounded him again, Changing Woman's
presence was the caress of the cleansing steam.

We must make a journey of discovery, Will, Nadleh said.  We must go out
into the darkness.  Can you cleanse your inner vision until you see
only the Light?  Will felt Changing Woman's presence all around him. 
He felt the cleansing powers of the sweat lodge overtake him.  Soon he
began to observe the pale white light he'd seen before.  Though it was
pitch dark, save for the rocks in the pit glowing dully, an ethereal
light came to fill the lodge.  Maybe this light is only in my mind, but
for the first time, I can really see.  In the strange mystical state
generated by the heat of the sweat lodge, Will felt he could see to a
god beyond God, to a meaning behind religion.  He glimpsed an important
truth--that to do God's will, to do what's good and right, isn't to do
what other people expect of you, but to do what you expect of yourself.
Then the flap opened the second time, and white hot light poured
through the opening.  Will was surprised to see that a strange
character outside the lodge stooped down, looked in, and beckoned to
him to follow him out.  The character seemed clearly to be Turquoise
Boy, the round-faced, blue-bodied figure Nadleh had drawn in the sand
painting  But now the character was man-sized.  Its body was tall and
thin.  Will thought perhaps this was Nadleh wearing a mask with his
body painted blue.  But he was sure he could still see Nadleh sitting
across from him inside the lodge.  Another Indian then wearing a ritual
costume.  Will followed Turquoise Boy out of the lodge.  He quickly
dressed himself in Navajo garments he found laid out on the earth
beside the lodge.  Then he followed the figure dressed as Turquoise
Boy.  There was light outside now, perhaps the wan light of early
morning.  If so, he was surprised the sweat could have lasted so long.
Turquoise Boy led him around behind the lodge to a ladder that stood
straight up.  Will's eye followed the ladder up, up into the sky.  I
wonder why I never noticed it before.  Following Turquoise Boy, he
began to climb.  As he got farther and farther from the ground and the
little sweat lodge dwindled to a tiny speck below, he could see the
ladder led up to a hole in the sky.  And now he was climbing through an
opening right in the center of that blue abyss.  Will hoisted himself
up through the hole in the sky and found he was standing on solid
ground. Turquoise Boy was there waiting for him.  The masked figure
never spoke, but Will understood that he was to follow and that no
danger could befall him in Turquoise Boy's presence.  They were on a
red plain that stretched out in all directions.  Overhead a blue green
sun shone down.  As they walked, Will noticed that to his right and
left stood huge figures, like the sand paintings of the Holy Persons. 
He thought he recognized Monster-Slayer as one of these figures that
towered above the red plain as high as a mountain.  And there was
Child-of-the-Water. Then they came to a lone hogan.  Turquoise Boy
pulled back the woolen rug that covered the opening and bid him enter. 
Inside he found there were corn cakes set out for him to eat.  He was
very hungry and ate ravenously.  Then he looked up and saw Nadleh
crouching next to him with a drinking gourd in her hand.  She offered
him water from the rawhide pouch slung over her shoulder.  He drank the
water gratefully. I wonder where we are.

You ask why Changing Woman brought you to this place, Nadleh said
gently and compassionately.  You seek to learn the circumstances of
your appointment?

I do, Will answered as though he were participating in a ritual.

Rest here.  Nadleh gestured toward the sheepskin rugs on the floor.
Will felt a great rush of sexual excitement and thought that Nadleh was
going to make love to him in this spirit-realm hogan.  But he reminded
himself they had work to do first.

Sleep, Nadleh said, We will journey together in your dreams.  Will
stretched out on the soft fleece and closed his eyes.  He was grateful
finally to be allowed to rest.  Then he heard Nadleh calling to him. 
He roused himself and was startled to see he was in the waiting room
outside Jesse McDonald's office in Washington, D.C. He told himself he
must still be dreaming.  But he certainly felt wide awake.  He saw that
Nadleh was in the room with him.  He was not dressed as a woman today,
but was clad in the loin cloth and vest of a warrior.  Nadleh's face
was painted for battle.  He beckoned to Will to get out of his seat in
the back corner of the room and to come over to the half-opened door
into McDonald's office.  Will remembered that this is what had happened
to him before.  He'd awakened to find that the waiting room was empty
and that he could hear voices in the adjoining office.  He got up and
walked over toward Nadleh standing at the half-open door.  When he
looked back, Will was surprised to see that his body was still sleeping
soundly in the chair and that he was now a kind of transparent image of
himself.  He realized Nadleh was also transparent.  He could see
through him to the wall and tall-backed wooden chairs behind.  Nadleh
spoke softly to him.  You are free to enter now and listen.  You will
not disturb them.  Will walked past Nadleh into the office.  Sitting
behind the desk was Jesse McDonald.  Across from him was Pastor
Sheldon.  The secretary, Charles, was standing at McDonald's side,
methodically handing him page after page of a thick pile of papers he
held in his hands.  While McDonald gave a cursory glance to each sheet,
Pastor Sheldon was talking.  So Ayers started recording how much money
Carleton was getting for the Indians housing expenses.  That's what he
noticed first.

I was always generous in recommending disbursements to the
Congressional committee.  Carleton's done a fine job out there of
settling down the Navajos If there was a little extra cream in the
milk, he certainly deserved it.  Besides, keeping Carleton happy keeps
the Indians pacified.  And that's my job, McDonald said.

Oh, Jesse, I'm not questioning you.  I'm pointing out that Ayers
noticed the discrepancy between what was allocated and what was
actually spent.  He saw Carleton was paying local contractors for work
the Indians were having to do themselves.

Now I thought this was not a bad strategy myself.  The general was
certainly good to me.  He understood the hardships I was suffering out
there so far from home.  And, of course, he knew that you and I were
friends.

General Carleton kept the Indians occupied and managed to channel a
little prosperity into the region.  I think even Ayers saw the wisdom.
But he also saw a certain, shall we say, vulnerability in Carleton's
position.  I guess he wasn't satisfied with the gratuities he was
receiving and expected more.

Now, you understand, Jesse, that I'm presupposing all this.  I didn't
pry into Jim Carleton's business.  But I did keep my eyes open.  I
think Ayers threatened to expose the whole deal if he didn't get cut
in

And just who was he going to expose it to?  McDonald asked.

I suppose to you, Sheldon answered.  McDonald chortled under his
breath. And so ?

Well, all I know is that Ayers then ended up in trouble.  Carleton's
old sidekick from way back, Sergeant Peak, went out to Ayers quarters
and found an Indian woman with her throat cut in the bed.  Looked like
she'd been raped, then murdered.  Or maybe the other way round.  Will
shivered to hear the details.  He wondered if he'd ever be able to
sleep in that bed again.

Did Ayers do it?

That was the accusation.  Didn't really seem in character for the man.
But Carleton ordered him put under arrest.  Then he disappeared.  Some
soldiers found him dead a few days later out in the desert strung up to
a cactus.  It looked like the Indians had taken revenge.  Carleton said
he didn't like it.  Threatened to hang some Indians.  He didn't want
the soldiers worrying something like that might happen to them, too.
But then he laughed and said it served Ayers right, anyway.  Never did
punish the Indians.  I always thought maybe Peak was behind it all. But
it's not my place to judge, Pastor Sheldon said sanctimoniously. As a
man of God, I must remain net ural

Well, Louis, that is mighty fine of you.  But let me ask you a simple
question.  Just for my information.

Certainly, Jesse.

How much is Carleton making out of this for himself?   I have no idea.
Honestly.  Charles, who'd been standing by silently, spoke up, We know
he's laid claim to some of the Indian lands up around Fort Defiance.

I'm not objecting, McDonald answered defensively.  But, look, if I'm
going to cover for him, he can't be robbing the agency blind.  Why
should he be the only one pro fitting  He has a right to his due, and
to a little cream on the side, but he shouldn't be overdoing it.  We
had enough controversy over Carleton's ideas in the Indian Wars.

You'll have to take that up with Carleton yourself, Jesse, Sheldon shot
back.  When I told him I'd had enough of trying to convert those damned
heathens and wanted a transfer back to Washington, Carleton asked me to
come see you and explain why he didn't want a Congressional
investigation.

Appointing a new Agent could certainly raise suspicions in Congress,
Charles said.  They're all looking for excuses to indict the
Administration.

Now, Charles, I appreciate your political perspicacity, McDonald
replied, But what difference is one Agent getting himself killed for
philandering with an Indian going to make?

Well, sir, there's this last report you've got from him in your hands.
Have you been reading it?

Not exactly.

Well, now, if you read closely between the lines, you see Ayers was
already setting Carleton up for a fall.  McDonald handed the pages of
the report he had back to his secretary.  Then why don't you just get
rid of this?

Say, Sheldon spoke up, I carried that all this way.  It's got some
glowing words about my efforts to convert the Indians to
Christianity.

I'm sorry, Louis, but you'll just have to be satisfied with knowing
somebody appreciated your efforts.  But it won't be Congress.

But then there's no Agent, and there've been no reports, Charles
whined.  If some Radical Republican Congressman hears about this, he
can use it as evidence that Johnson is neglecting his duties while he's
mollycoddling the South and trying to undo the Acts of
Reconstruction.

This doesn't have anything to do with the impeachment, McDonald
retorted.

Then keep it quiet.  Don't forward any reports to Congress that say
anything but that Carleton's policy at the Bosque Redondo is a great
success.

I guess, you're right, Charles, McDonald agreed.  What a day, what a
day, he exclaimed.  First, everything is in an uproar about Congress
wanting to impeach the President.  And then all those people coming
through here, every one of them wanting something from me.  I tell you,
Louis, it's just too much.  And then you come in here with your news.
Will recognized this part of the conversation as something he'd heard
before.  He imagined that if he went back outside to the waiting room,
he'd discover he was just waking up and was about to start
eavesdropping on this conversation.

I'm sorry to be adding to your burden, Jesse, Sheldon answered.

I know it's not your fault.  And I'm always happy to see you, you know
that, Louis.

We go back a long ways, Sheldon answered.

Why do I put myself through this?  McDonald groaned in a kind of mock
complaint.  Charles answered, Because, Mr.  McDonald, you like power.
And you like the money that goes with it

Once again, Charles, you've hit the nail on the head, McDonald answered
joking.  No wonder you and I get on so well.  So, let's quit the
belly-aching.  We got a problem here to deal with.

Appoint an apprentice to the Agent, Charles said.  Nobody'll know the
difference.  When the assistant gets there, he just takes over cause
his predecessor's gone.

There's a handsome lad asleep out in your waiting room looking for a
job, Sheldon said.  Says he wants to help the Indians.

You think he can be trusted?  McDonald asked.

I've been talking with him out there in the waiting room.

I thought you two were in the washroom, Charles interrupted.

The washroom McDonald guffawed.

As I was sayin , Jesse, I was talking with him in the waiting room.

Imagine that!  Charles chimed in.

Oh, Charles.  He's just a little boy.  Give him a chance.  Carleton can
write the reports.  This youngster will just sign them.  He won't know
the difference.  He'll take instruction from Carleton and, I'll bet,
he'll do fine.  So that's what Sheldon really meant, Will thought.  He
was recommending me because he thought I'd be a dupe.

Are you sure, Louis?  McDonald asked.  What do we know about him
besides what you learned in the, er, waiting room?   He's got the
prettiest eyes you can imagine, Sheldon answered as though that were
reason enough to hire him.

And, Jesse, Charles interjected, he brought this letter of introduction
from Harry Burnside

Harry sent him?  Well, Charles, let me see the letter.

But he's a Rebel, Charles interjected.

All the better.  He'll have no political allies in the Congress, said
McDonald.

He'll be just right for appointment as an apprentice, Sheldon said, his
voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.  And, Jesse, I can
certainly sympathize with his plight.  You and me, we oughta help him,
just for old times sake.  He needs a job.  He's bright-eyed and
bushy-tailed.  Just your sort of young man.

Ah-hem.  McDonald cleared his throat audibly.

I mean, he's like you were as a lad, Sheldon continued.  Why I remember
when you and I first met

But is he going to be just another problem?  McDonald interrupted.  You
said he wanted to help the Indians.

I said he was handsome, Jesse, and had pretty eyes.  I think he's kind
of simple.  He looked pretty dopey and then fell asleep while I was
talking with him.  I don't think he knows a thing about Indians except
that they're somewhere out West.

I'm not sure you'll like this, Charles said as he handed McDonald the
letter from Harry Burnside.

Pshaw, McDonald answered as he began to read the letter.  Will walked
over to the desk and looked over Mr.  McDonald's shoulder.  He could
plainly read the letter from his patron and friend.  Dear Jesse, The
bearer of this letter, Mr.  William Lee of Lynchburg, is a fine young
man, the possessor of many talents.  I remember, Jesse, that you were
once such a fine young man.  When you were Will's age, I was glad to
take you into my home and my heart and to teach you how to be a
cultured adult and to give you your first job in government.  I have
heard that you have used your position for personal gain and that
political power has gone to your head.  I am ashamed of the things I've
heard.  I once cared for you greatly.  I urge you to redeem yourself in
my eyes by giving William Lee an appointment in your department.  Give
him a hand as I gave you one when you needed it.  Those of us who march
to the beat of the different drummer had best maintain our ranks.  You
understand what I mean.

Sincerely,

Harry Burnside, Esquire As he finished reading the letter, McDonald
burst out laughing.  Well, I'll certainly have to redeem myself in ol
Harry Burnside's eyes, he said scornfully.  Charles, go wake the boy
up.  Charles went out to the waiting room.  Mr.  McDonald will see you
now.  Will found himself back in the lone hogan in the spirit realm.
Nadleh was calling his name.

Will, do you now understand the circumstances of your appointment?

I was sent out here to help hide Carleton's crimes, he answered.  But I
will not cooperate.  I'm going to expose him.

Let us get the evidence to stop the Hairy Face, Nadleh said.  Still
dressed as a warrior, he stood up and gestured to Will to follow him
out of the hogan.  In a reflex to Nadleh's reference to Carleton, Will
felt his face.  To his surprise, he was clean-shaven, not a Hairy Face.
But when did I shave?  Outside on the red plain, Segundo was waiting
with three magnificent horses.  Will thought it odd that Segundo was
with them, but he had seen so much that was odd he was becoming
accustomed to it.  Segundo handed him the reins to one of the horses.
Though, Indian style, there was a blanket but no saddle, Will somehow
jumped up onto the horse and straddled its girth easily.  In a moment,
the other two were also mounted, and the three began to ride fast
across the plain.  As they rode at a breakneck pace that reminded Will
of galloping like this on Barboncito's horse, he saw that the sky was
filling with dark billowing thunderclouds.  Lightning flashed all
around them.  Then to Will's amazement, the ground seemed to drop away,
and the horses hurdled forward, the hooves pounding into the very
substance of the clouds.  It was as if they had become the lightning
itself and were shooting across the sky.  There was rain pouring down
all around them, but it created no discomfort.  In fact, it seemed to
Will to be cleansing and purifying him after the experience in the
office in Washington.  He felt so used, so dirtied.  He was grateful to
Harry Burnside for the assistance, but he thought Jesse McDonald had
hardly fulfilled Harry's wishes.  He hadn't given Will a hand.  He had
sent him out to be another victim of his own and Carleton's greed. What
about the different drummer?  Will imagined himself a cloud blown
through the sky by the rushing wind.  The storm carried the three
riders far.  Then it began to subside.  The rain dwindled to a fine
sprinkle.  There were trees around them: aspens, pines, junipers and
pions  The horses slowed to a walk.  Segundo held up his right hand in
a signal to halt.  The three descended from their mounts and began to
climb a gentle slope.  The ground all around was a sandy yellow clay.
In the rain, it had turned to sticky mud that clung to their feet as
they padded through it.  Then there spread out before them a deep
valley.  Through the middle of it ran a clear blue stream.  Will stood
between Nadleh and Segundo and looked out over the countryside.  He
recognized this as the canyon he'd seen in his vision the first day.
This was Dineh bekeyah, as the Navajo homelands were called in their
native language.  This was the labyrinthine Canyon de Chelly.  All
through these canyons and ravines, the Dineh people had made their
settlements.  Here they'd raised their children for generations.  Here
they herded their sheep and goats and grew their food and gathered
sacred herbs.  Here they worshipped their gods, in the land Turquoise
Boy had led them to through the reed ladder.  Will felt great joy.  He
looked at the other two and saw the same joy in their faces.  Nadleh
and Segundo spoke to each other in their native language.  And, to
Will's surprise, he understood.  Then simultaneously, spontaneously,
they began to laugh together.  The laughter rang through the valley. 
Will realized they were rejoicing in their return to their homeland. 
They were rejoicing in Segundo's return to life.  He had, indeed, come
back to Nadleh as he had promised.  As they laughed, the three men
rejoiced in their manhood.  In the way of dreams, Will saw that they
now stood naked together.  They were showing their bodies to one
another, reveling in the love and admiration of the others.  Will saw
how strong and beautiful Segundo's body was.  He marveled as Segundo
presented his manhood for all to see.  And he saw how lithe and
beautiful Nadleh's body was.  He marveled at Nadleh's manhood and at
this Two-Spirit Person's ability to comprise both manhood and
womanhood.  Will felt how strong and lithe and beautiful his own body
was.  He marveled at his own adulthood and experienced how he had
become a man and could now present himself to these other men for their
respect and admiration. Atorrent of energy engulfed them.  Like a
warming fire shooting up from earth and rising high above them into the
sky, life force coursed through them.  Their laughter rang out like a
lover's cry at the moment of climax.  Again as in the way of dreams,
Will realized he was now wearing the loin cloth and beaded vest that
Segundo had been wearing. And now Segundo was gone.  It was only Will
and Nadleh.  Nadleh looked deep into his eyes with such love and
respect.  Welcome home, my husband, she said in Dineh.  I love you,
Will Lee, she added in English.  Then Nadleh directed him back to the
horses.  As he mounted, Nadleh spurred her mount, Come, we have a
mission to complete.  Will followed Nadleh away from Dineh bekeyah. 
Soon the sun set, and the clouds closed behind them.  Again they raced
through the stormy night. Lightning struck at the horses hooves behind
them, spurring them to a fenzied pace.  As they ran, the horses neighed
jubilantly, exulting in their power.  Will hung onto the reins,
sometimes clinging to the horse's great neck.  The mane smelled
musky-rich and wild.  Then they left the storm behind them.  They were
riding through the night, down the wide rut of the Pecos River along
the boundary of the Bosque Redondo.  In the distance, Will could see a
few gleams of yellowish light--fires or lanterns at Fort Sumner. 
Nadleh reined in his horse near the Dineh settlement.  They jumped down
from the great steeds and climbed up the rocky walls of the wash.  Will
looked back to see the horses, milky white and shadowy roan in the
darkness, cantering off proudly to the spirit realm whence theyd come. 
Will knew he was dreaming and that his physical body was still sitting
in the little sweat lodge, the shadow of which he could just make out
as they passed.  In the dream, he noticed, he and Nadleh were still
dressed as Dineh warriors.  They went up through the screen of trees,
on beyond his quarters, and right up to the gate of Fort Sumner.  They
crept stealthily and avoided the sentries who, in any case, did not
seem to take any notice of them even when they slipped right behind one
of them and into the officer's compound. By now, Will had realized
where they were headed.  Of course, where else but to General
Carleton's office?  Dr.  Steck had said to get written evidence.  That
is where that evidence would be found.  But what's the good of getting
it in a dream vision?  They walked right up to the door of the office. 
It was locked.  Nadleh stepped away and went quickly into an unlocked
office nearby.  In a moment, he returned with a key.

From Lieutenant Bauer's desk, he whispered.  Will unlocked the door and
went inside.  At first, the room was pitch dark.  But he soon began to
see well enough to make out the desk and the filing cabinets behind it.
The same ethereal light that had filled the sweat lodge was now
beginning to illumine the military office.  Soon it was bright enough
to read.  Heavy curtains were drawn across the window.  Will hoped that
the mysterious light he was reading by could not be seen from the
parade ground outside.  It was the middle of the night, and he and
Nadleh had no business being in the general's office.  Nadleh suggested
that he look first in the filing cabinet.  Opening the top drawer, Will
read the names printed on the folders.  They were not in alphabetical
order.  He riffled through them, hoping one or another of the names
would mean something.  The first such folder he came to caused him to
sputter angrily.  He pulled the folder out of the drawer, turned
around, and set it on the desk.  It was titled Reports of William Lee,
Indian Agent--unacceptable.  Looking quickly through the pages, Will
saw all the reports he'd carefully penned and posted to the Office of
Indian Affairs.  In the back of the folder were the letters he'd
written appealing for aid.  They had never been sent.  Dezba had been
right.  He saw that the next folder in the drawer was titled Reports of
Indian Agent--to be sent.  Inside was a single page with a few short
paragraphs.  He did not bother reading it.  He knew what it must say:
Everything's fine here.  General Carleton is great.  Folded over it was
a half sheet of paper with the note: Awaiting signature.  In another
drawer, toward the back where the files were probably never looked at
anymore, he found a report titled: Soil Conditions at Fort Sumner.  He
looked through it quickly.  It indicated that as early as 1863, before
the Indians were moved to this area, a government assayer had
determined that the soil was too alkaline for food crops.  Even before
the whole Bosque Redondo experiment started, Carleton must have known
it would fail.  The Indians could never have become self-sufficient
here.  Another folder in the back of the drawer held a report titled:
Comanche Activity along Texas-New Mexico Border.  It was also dated
1863.  It argued that settlers coming into the most habitable areas in
the central and northern portions of the New Mexico Territory could be
protected from attack by the belligerent and already inflamed Comanche
tribes in west Texas by placing docile or vanquished Indian settlements
on reservations along the border to create a buffer zone.  This was the
real reason for putting the Dineh at Bosque Redondo!  In a more recent
set of files, Will found a folder labeled: Cost Reports on Indian
Housing.  In it were receipts showing large government disbursements
for building materials.  Some of the receipts actually had attached to
them breakdowns showing how the monies were supposedly used: lumber,
tools, carpenter supplies, even roofing tiles.  But there were no
buildings on the reservation made of lumber and roofed with tiles.
There was practically no housing provided for the Indians at all.  He
showed Nadleh what he found.  Is that what you need for your Dr. Steck?
the spectre asked.  Will could see right through Nadleh; he seemed to
glow as from an inner light.  He was obviously an apparition, just as
he'd appeared in Jesse McDonald's waiting room.

Well, by itself this doesn't prove the buildings weren't built, he
answered.  We need something that shows where the money actually went.
I wonder if Carleton keeps his personal records here.

In the desk, Nadleh suggested.  See, this drawer is locked.  He pulled
on one of the brass knobs.

How are we going to get in?

The key is behind the nib drawer in the ink well.

How do you know that?

My aunt is the general's maid.  Will was just thinking that if Dezba
had access to this office, then perhaps tomorrow they could get her to
get these files in reality.  The dream quality of his experience had
faded a little.  He was no longer flying through the sky on a magical
steed. But he was sure this was all still a dream.  What would I be
doing in the general's office in the middle of the night?  Following
Nadleh's instructions, Will found the key secreted in the ink well.  As
he opened the drawer in hopes of finding Carleton's personal records,
it occurred to him that even if Dezba could get into the files
unnoticed, in spite of her ability to speak English, she probably
couldn't read the Hairy Face language.  Who else but he could possibly
retrieve these documents?  He had a sinking feeling.  In a way, he
hoped the dream investigation would prove nothing.  I'd hate to have to
do this kind of espionage in reality.  In the drawer was a small
canvas-covered ledger. Will checked back to find the date for one of
the receipts for housing expenditures.  Then he scanned through the
ledger to find that date. And here's the evidence I need!  In what
looked like the general's own handwriting were notations showing how
the expenses were to be reported alongside a record of deposits to
various bank accounts.  In the back of the ledger was a loose sheet of
note paper that listed a series of bank account names, all under the
officially penned rubric: Accounts of James C. Carleton, General.  Some
of the accounts were styled Carleton, but others had apparently
unrelated names: Andrews, Ragsdale, Barton, Johnson, Nash,
Winthrop--fictitious names the general used to hide his embezzlement. 
In the bottom of the drawer, Will found several hand-drawn copies of a
map of the New Mexico Territory.  If he understood what he was seeing,
it looked as if vast tracts of land in the Dineh bekeyah were labeled
with the names from that list of accounts.  The general must have put
in claims using those same fictitious names.  When he showed him what
he'd found, Nadleh said, Pull these out and bring them with you.  Will
didn't believe they'd be able to bring the documents back from the
dream, but this was Nadleh's medicine at work.  He did as instructed.

I will watch for the sentry, Nadleh said, while you collect the
evidence you need.  The spectral-like warrior slipped out the office
door, closing it behind him.  Will replaced the folders in their
respective drawers.  He took the page about soil conditions and one of
the mate riels receipts that matched a breakdown of deposits to
Carleton's own pocket.  Everything else went back into the file cabinet
where it had come from, except the folder of Will's unacceptable
reports.  He did not notice that he'd left that on the corner of the
desk.  He put away the ledger, minus a couple of pages, and determined
that everything in the desk drawer was back in place.  He folded the
pages Nadleh told him to take along with one of the copies of the map
and the list of accounts and tucked them under his warrior's vest.  He
was beginning to get nervous about this whole thing.  This is a dream,
of course, he reminded himself, but it seems so real.  He locked the
drawer and slipped the little brass key into its hiding place in the
inkwell. Just then he noticed the folder of his reports that had to go
back in the file cabinet.  As he grabbed it up, his eye was caught by
the ornate desk set.  The silver was gleaming softly in the pale light
that filled the room.  Will found he couldn't take his eyes off the
gleam. He stood there transfixed.  The pale white light faded out.  The
gleam from the polished silver waned.  And the room became pitch dark. 
Will was still paralyzed.  He tried to call out to Nadleh.  But he
couldn't get his mouth or throat to work.  I must be waking up.  Just
then a light flashed under the door to the office.  Then the door swung
open and the room filled with brilliant illumination from a lantern. 
Will could just make out General Carleton's enraged countenance in the
glare.  Carleton was holding the lantern at arms length just above his
face.  Will realized he was awake.  And he could move.  But how did I
get here?  He'd expected to awake in the sweat lodge.  What am I
supposed to do now?  Nadleh had been my guide.  And now she's gone.
What's happened?

You little bastard, how dare you enter my office!  The general shouted.
How dare you defile my desk with your Injun-loving hands!  His eyes
blazed in the light from the lantern.  I will not tolerate anyone in my
office without permission.  Much less you, Mr.  Lee.  Will's sight was
dazzled, but now he could move.  He cringed under Carleton's
threatening stare.  Seeking to defend himself, he held up the sheath of
papers.  These were supposed to have been sent to Washington.  What are
they doing here?

I am the Commanding Officer, the general thundered.  I decide what gets
sent where.  What you wrote demonstrates total disregard for my
policies.  That is tantamount to insubordination.  Who do you think you
are to question me?  I've been in New Mexico since 63, when you
Southerners were waging war against the Union.  You rebels should have
all been executed as traitors.  General Carleton came around the back
of the desk, pushing Will out of the way and knocking the sheath of
reports out of his hand.  As Carleton noticed the pages scatter onto
the floor, he lowered the lantern and exclaimed, Look at the mud you've
tracked in here.  God damn your soul.  There was dried and caked yellow
mud all over the floor.  The general tugged at the locked drawer of his
desk.  Finding it secure, he appeared satisfied that the young Agent
had not gotten into his private papers.  Will stood still half
paralyzed.  He watched helplessly as a sardonic grin spread across the
general's face.

You seem so concerned about your reports.  As though anybody really
cared what you have to say.  Well, now you'll get your reward for your
diligence.  You have just committed a crime against a general officer
of the United States Army, Mr.  Lee.  Considering your background with
the Confederacy, I believe this is an act of treason.

Since coming to Fort Sumner, you have repeatedly ignored my advice. You
have flouted my instructions about your duties.  God damn you, man, you
have even failed to appear for one scheduled appointment after another.
You may be a civilian, but you are going to pay for this, you bastard,
just like the Rebel infiltrator I believe you really are.  Will felt
threatened.  But more than anything he felt abandoned and betrayed.  By
Nadleh?  Yes, but more by his inability to distinguish dream from
reality.  For the first time in his life, he couldn't tell the
difference.  Carleton was moving around the room.  He almost knocked
Will over as he pushed him away from the back of the desk and pulled at
the drawers.  Will felt relieved he'd got everything back in place.  He
wanted to feel for the papers inside his shirt, but didn't want to give
away the hidden evidence.  He discovered he was wearing his own clothes
again, not the beadwork vest of Segundo.  He touched his cheek and felt
that he was clean-shaven.  Before any of the dream had started, he'd
been sporting seven days growth of beard.  He was still in a daze.

Sergeant Peak, take the traitor to the guardhouse and lock him up, he
heard Carleton say to his aide.  He felt himself hustled out of the
room.  In his rage, Carleton did not instruct Sergeant Peak to search
Will.  And so, obedient to the letter of his command, without a word,
the big sergeant grabbed the young civilian by the upper arm and
dragged him out of the office, across the parade ground and over to the
guardhouse at the far end.  He laughed mockingly as he threw Will into
the cell and pulled the heavy wooden door shut with a bang and locked
it.  There was no furniture in the small cell: no chair; no bed,
mattress or pillow; only a bucket, which stank of excrement, and a
rough woolen blanket for bedding.  As upset as he was about being
discovered and jailed--and desperate to know what had happened to
Nadleh--Will felt that the secret papers he held under his shirt made
the whole effort worthwhile.  He was amazed that he'd actually managed
to get hold of them.  He tried to sleep.  He hadn't slept in several
days and needed to rest.  But he had had such a perplexing adventure
leading up to his incarceration, his mind was racing.  He wondered and
worried about Nadleh.  Why hadn't Nadleh alerted me?  Was I mistaken
that she'd accompanied me?  Where is Nadleh now?  He kept falling into
fitful dreams in which a guard would come upon him suddenly in the
dark, demanding to search the cell.  If they found the incriminating
documents on him, Carleton would kill him for sure and the evidence
would be lost.  He knew he had to get it to the Indians before the
general discovered the papers were missing.  During the night, he began
to hope that his capture and incarceration were all just another part
of the strange dream that had started several hours ago in the sweat
lodge.  But, in the morning, he awoke to find himself still in the
cell.  The first thing he did was to feel for the documents hidden in
his shirt.  Finding them there, he knew that everything he remembered
had actually happened.  But how?  Soon after sun-up, the temperature
began to rise, and with it the stench in the cell became overpowering.
It was getting hard to breathe.  To cope with the heat Will stripped
off his shirt and trousers.  He'd been wearing the same clothes for six
days; at least, he thought so, though he also remembered being dressed
as a Navajo warrior.  Now, in only his muslin under drawers, he hunched
over the small iron-barred window of the cell.  He had tucked the
pilfered documents into the folds of the blanket.  He kept vigil at the
window because he couldn't bear the stench in the cell, but also
because he hoped to spy one of the Navajos come by.  If he could pass
the papers to one of them, he or she could deliver them to Nadleh. Will
was sure the Indians could use these documents to prove their
grievances, but it all depended on getting them to Dr.  Steck in Santa
Fe.  Will knew it was not likely for an Indian to be in this area of
Fort Sumner.  But he hoped maybe luck--and Nadleh's powers--would be
with him.  He understood that in some way Nadleh was able to exercise
influence over things like luck and coincidence.  This is how Nadleh
was a healer and guide for the Navajos--and for him.  He was proud of
himself for having accomplished his task last night in getting the
evidence on General Carleton.  But he knew it had been as much Nadleh's
accomplishment as his own.  And, at least until that last moment, it
had seemed luck had been with him.  Maybe his arrest was going to turn
out also to be part of that good luck, though for the time being he was
worried.  Will's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden clank of the
cell door.  Sergeant Peak came into the room, bringing a cup of cold
coffee and a dry biscuit.  The sergeant took one look at him and spat
on the dirt floor.  Look at you, not a stitch on you but them drawers.
Ain't you got no decency?  You look like one o them goddamn savages you
been runnin with.

It's hot in here, Will retorted defensively.  It occurred to him as he
ate the meager breakfast that if Sergeant Peak saw him practically
naked, he wasn't too likely to worry about his carrying concealed
documents.  The morning passed uneasily.  Will kept expecting to be
hauled off to be harangued again by General Carleton or even to be put
in front of a firing squad.  He remembered that Carleton had used the
word treason.  Treason is a capital offense.  As the time dragged by,
his mind swirled with images of suffering and death.  He thought about
the previous Agent's gruesome demise.  His heart reeled at the
horrifying ways a person might be gotten rid of out here in the desert.
How ironic that I might die at the hands of a Yankee general two years
after the War for Southern Independence had ended and clear on the
other side of the continent!  But if Dr.  Steck succeeds in convincing
the government to remove Carleton, Will thought, at least my death will
not be in vain.  Just then an old Indian woman cautiously came up to
the window of the cell.  Dezba!  Will called out in surprise.  His mood
changed abruptly.  She came close enough to whisper, The general sent
for me.  The Hairy Face soldier said mud had been tracked into his
office.  So they ordered this old woman to clean it up for them, she
added sarcastically.

Is Nadleh safe?  Dezba nodded calmly.  He felt a great sense of relief
to know his Indian spouse was not chained up to a wall somewhere or
lying dead outside the fort.

Nadleh spoke with Changing Woman.  She said I should come to you.

I have the papers that prove what Carleton's doing, Will whispered. You
and Nadleh and Barboncito must get these to Dr.  Steck.  He looked
around to make sure no one was watching, then retrieved the packet and
passed it through the window.   I will protect these papers, Will Lee.
You need not fear.  We are grateful to you.  Nadleh speaks to Changing
Woman on your behalf.

Tell Nadleh I'll be all right.  As Dezba left, with the documents
tucked into her wool skirt, Will wondered if there were any basis for
his assurance to Nadleh.  He'd seen enough of Nadleh's mystical powers
to believe that if he were really going to be all right, it would have
to be because of Nadleh's doing, not his own.

Chapter Fourteen

Will languished in the cell for two more days.  He was given very
little to eat, a couple of biscuits, a bowl of beans, occasionally a
cup of water when the soldier in charge of the guardhouse happened to
stop through to check on him.  But otherwise there was no punishment
imposed.  No civilian charges or military court marshal were pressed.
The general did not come to harangue or interrogate him.  Sergeant Peak
did not come to torture or beat him up.  Lieutenant Bauer did stop by
the second afternoon.

Look, Mister, you're in deep trouble, he said.  You better come clean
with me.

Yes sir, Will answered perfunctorily.

Do you have any papers from the general's desk?

No, sir, he answered quite truthfully.  The papers were safely in
Dezba's hands.  He gestured around the cell.  He tossed the blanket
into the air to show there was nothing in it.  He shook out his
clothes.

Damn, said Bauer.  I was hoping you had it.  The general's blamed me
for losing it.

Something's missing?  Will asked with feigned sympathy.

It was his own damn fault.  It was a loose sheet of paper, Bauer
fussed.  Look, Lee, you're telling the god's own truth that you did not
get into the general's desk?

On my word of honor, he said--truthfully, but fudging just a little, I
would never in my right mind have gone into General Carleton's desk.

I guess you're right about that, Bauer said.  But that didn't stop you
from getting into the office and rummaging in the file cabinet.

Those were my reports, Will declared defensively.

Say, Lee, how did you get into that office?  I'm sure I'd locked the
door.  The general said the office was open, and there weren't no key
in the door.  My key was well, where it belongs.  Bauer seemed to
realize he'd already told Will too much.

Perhaps you'd forgotten to lock the door, Will suggested innocently. He
didn't have any idea how he'd gotten into that room.  Had Nadleh
actually been there to bring him the key?  But she'd been only an
apparition.

I never forget, Bauer said firmly.  Well, Lee, you'll get blamed for
the whole thing just the same, Bauer said.  Carleton can be a hard man.
I'm sure not taking the responsibility.  That evening, just after
supper, Mac McCarrie came to visit.  He stood at the window and chatted
through the bars.

You know what your problem is?  You've let yourself get emotionally
involved with the Indians.  Hey, I understand about getting sex.

Huh?

Sure, I mean I got me an Indian squaw over in the Mescalero camp. Hell,
what's a guy to do round here?  Too many of the men are havin it out
with each other in the bunkhouse for my taste.  I ain't like that.
Guess I can't blame em tho .  Will was so surprised at Mac's
announcement he didn't take time to admonish him about the word squaw.
He was hurt by the soldier's saying, I ain't like that.

But, damn it, man, you gotta keep subtle bout all this.  Everybody can
see you're livin with that Navajo.  That riles some folks up.  Look,
the women are for fuckin , but that's all.

You show em a little kindness now and then.  Buy em some trinkets from
the sutler s. Or take em some grub from the mess hall.  That keeps em
happy and everybody stays quiet.  You don't want to go angerin the
Indians none.  They can be pretty dangerous.

You took food from the mess hall?  Will asked.

Sure, there's more meat than the men can eat Mac tossed off.

Weren't you worried about the cook catching you?

Catchin me?  Mac laughed.  Hey, I take him a bottle of whisky now and
then.  He gives me anything I ask for.  Wraps it like a butcher shop.
All's he wants is his tip.  Will almost laughed himself.  How ironic! 
I thought I'd been endangering the safety of the Dineh by stealing the
leftover meat for them.  All the cook had wanted was a tip.  Changing
Woman didn't seem to understand the ways of the white man any better
than I did!  Pvt.  McCarrie's visit was interrupted by the arrival of
Sergeant Peak.  Mac ducked away from the window.

The general's decided to release you, Lee, Peak announced.  He
apologizes.  Don't want to overstep his authority by arresting a
civilian.  That'll just mean more forms for him to fill out.  Believe
me, he don't need no more controversies.  Will did not understand.  Why
is Carleton going to let me go so easily?

The general said he understood why you might be peeved your reports
weren't sent.  In fact, he told me to tell you he'd be happy to go over
those reports with you and show you just where your errors were.  Then
maybe you'd wanna do em over again.  Right, this time.   I'd certainly
discuss the reports with General Carleton, Will answered.  He didn't
want to screw up his chance of getting out of this cell.  He needed to
talk to Nadleh.  He felt very confused about what was and wasn't
real.

Look, Peak said, as though taking him into his confidence, we all know
what's going on around here.  I mean anybody can see the damn Injuns
are getting a raw deal.  The general's got a reputation to protect.  He
was one of the great Injun fighters.  He don't want no problems here.

Now General Carleton's been known to be generous with his friends.  He
ain't done so bad for his self out here.  You know, there's pretty good
money flowing through this reservation.  That Agent fore you, Ayers--he
d've been happy with a cut.  You think about it.

Sergeant, all I want is to do my job of looking out for the Indians
welfare as best I can.  I don't want any cuts.  Peak interrupted him,
If Ayers had been satisfied with the general's offer, he wouldn't've
got himself strung up on that cactus.  Just remember, the general can
be generous.  Or he can be merciless.  It's up to you.  Anyway, for
now, you're a free man.  Peak opened the door of the cell.  Will didn't
think the way he said free man very convincing.  But he got out of the
cell just as fast as he could.  Outside, he looked around for Pvt.
McCarrie, but the man had apparently run off.  He wondered how much
he'd heard and what he'd understood.  He felt so in the dark himself. 
Will wondered how much Carleton knew he knew.  Maybe not much.  From
the way Bauer and Peak had talked, it sounded as if they thought he had
sneaked into the office just to find out what had happened to his
reports.  But Bauer had revealed that Carleton had noticed that that
page of phony accounts was missing.  The first thing Will wanted to
determine was if those documents had really been real and if Dezba and
Nadleh actually had them in their possession.  Nadleh was waiting
outside her hogan. She greeted Will warmly and held him in her arms,
then bade him enter. Dezba and Barboncito were seated inside.  They
looked delighted.  Dezba held out the packet of documents for him to
see.  How in the world?

I had quite an adventure, Will commented with magnificent
understatement.

We are all proud of you, Nadleh said.  Changing Woman is proud of you.
You have done well.

We have to get these papers to Santa Fe as soon as possible.

My horse will be waiting for you in the morning, Barboncito said.

Can you make the journey back?  Nadleh asked.  Will started to ask for
someone to accompany him.  But he knew an Indian risked punishment if
he or she left the reservation.  Besides, he told himself, I've done it
once already by myself.

I'll leave before sunrise, he proclaimed.  He explained to the Dineh
leaders what the evidence they had gathered meant.  They were appalled
to learn how they'd intentionally been put in harm's way to create a
safety buffer for the settlers and angered to hear how Carleton had
turned their misfortune and suffering to his own profit.  Will talked
with them about what he expected to happen.  Steck would telegraph the
report of Carleton's misdeeds.  Then they'd have to wait to hear from
the War Department.  He'd probably be away another two or three weeks,
he said.  He hoped he'd be returning with the news that Washington was
going to send investigators.  Nadleh urged him to rest before his
arduous journey.  Once Carleton realized he had disappeared from the
reservation the next day, he was bound to catch on.  Perhaps he'd send
a posse out.  Will was going to have to ride swift and sure.  The
others left.  Nadleh and Will lay together on the sheepskins and held
each other.  Nadleh's touch felt comforting.

What really happened?  Will asked.

What do you mean?  Nadleh replied.  Perhaps she was being coy.  He
described the whole series of events as best he could recall: seeing
Turquoise Boy come into the sweat lodge, then following the mysterious
Holy Person up the ladder through the hole in the sky, their walking in
on the conversation in Washington, then riding the horses through the
storm, and going up to Carleton's office.  What really happened?

What happened is what you experienced, Nadleh answered simply.

Well, Will shot back, what did you experience?  Nadleh was silent a
moment as if composing an answer.  You fainted in the sweat lodge.  We
brought you out and carried you here.  You slept for several hours;
then some time in the night you got up and left.  That is when you went
to General Carleton's office?  she added the last as a question.

Weren't you with me?

I lay beside you and prayed to Changing Woman for you.  In my dreams, I
went with you to Dineh bekeyah, the homelands of our people.  Segundo
was there.

Yes, I remember, Will said.  He rolled over and lay his head on
Nadleh's chest.  It didn't matter what really happened.  What mattered
is that they got the evidence they needed.  He'd done something quite
risky, he realized, something foolishly valiant.  He didn't think of
himself as heroic exactly.  He apparently had done it all as if
sleepwalking.  He'd never had a chance to be heroic.  He hadn't
believed it had been happening.  What was heroic, he told himself, was
that he'd let himself feel his affection for Nadleh.  He'd overcome the
barriers of race and culture, and in so doing entered into another
realm of existence where heroism was natural and a matter of course for
being human, where the universe helped every well-intentioned effort
to abide in harmony.  Now those feelings of affection began again to
overwhelm him.  He clung tight to Nadleh and then raised his eyes to
hers and felt the deep human connection that transcended all the armies
of differences between them.  They made passionate love with each
other.  Afterward, Will thought about the spirit orgasm he shared with
Nadleh and Segundo on the bluff above Dineh bekeyah.

I remember, too, Nadleh said mysteriously.  Afterward, Will rolled over
and tried to sleep, clutching the packet of documents to his chest for
safekeeping.  In spite of his exhaustion, he couldn't rest.  He kept
waking himself up with dreams of danger.  How come Carleton let me out
of jail?  And what did Peak mean about accepting the general's
generosity?  Had he been offering a bribe?  Will knew he couldn't
betray the Dineh for money.  But he worried the Dineh might betray
him--not Dezba and Barbonicto.  But there were certainly Navajos who
did not like his joining Dezba's outfit.  He remembered what Mac had
told him about the Mescaleros.  What if Mac wittingly or unwittingly
betrayed him?  What if he told his Mescalero woman about the bribe Peak
had offered?  Will thought he heard sounds outside the hogan.  Was it
attackers coming to get him?  He tried to go back to sleep, telling
himself it was just normal activity in the camp.  But then something
familiar burned at his nostrils: the pungent oily smell of kerosene. 
He heard the gurgle and splash of the flammable fluid being poured
around the outside of the hogan.  This wasn't a mystical dream.  This
was a down-to-earth attack.  He was suddenly struck with the fear that
tonight's dreams of danger were also coming true.

Nadleh, wake up, he said urgently.  We've got to get out of here quick.
In a moment, they were both out of the hogan.  It was pitch dark
outside.  They ran steathily to a spot where they could hunker down
behind the low dome of the sweat lodge and watch.  Will still held the
packet tightly.  Soon a light sputtered in the darkness as a match lit.
Flames flickered along a trail of kerosene toward the hogan.  They
quickly spread all around the base.  The fire looked particularly
intense near the door flap which must have been doused especially
generously.  Fire ran up the sides of the hogan in fingers where the
flammable liquid had been splashed.  And then the whole thing suddenly
burst into a raging blaze as fumes inside the structure exploded.  The
figure that set the fire had backed away.  But in the sudden bright
light, Will recognized Sergeant Peak's weathered and embittered
features just before he turned and disappeared into the darkness.  No
wonder they let me out.  They were planning to kill me.

My god, they almost burned us alive.  Will shuddered at the thought.

Changing Woman has work for you to do, Nadleh said.  That is why she
woke you up.

Well, I'm sure glad she did, he laughed.  He was starting to tremble in
recognition of what a close call they'd had.  Well, Nadleh, he said,
maybe this works in our favor.  If they think they killed us, they
won't come after me.  We've got to let them think I'm dead.  Indians
began to swarm from the huts and hogans around the settlement to see
what the ruckus was.  Nadleh.  Nadleh!  One after another, the people
began to call out as they saw what was happening.  A great keening and
wailing filled the night.  Nadleh and Will were still hiding behind the
sweat lodge.  They were both naked.  Dezba came up behind Nadleh.  It
will soon be dawn, she said to Will.  You should eat something to
prepare for your journey.

I should put on some clothes, Will rejoined.

Aunt, you must let the people know I am safe, Nadleh said.  I hear such
grief in their cries.

Will you show yourself to reassure them?  Dezba suggested.

We must stay hidden, Nadleh said, sounding conspiratorial.  Will must
leave the settlement, and I must perform a mission for Changing Woman
before the Hairy Faces come to investigate.

I will reassure them, but protect your secret, Dezba answered and
excused herself.  Will would have liked to have slept a little longer.
He would have liked to have held Nadleh and shared her touch before
having to leave.  But, indeed, a faint glow was beginning to illumine
the eastern sky, and it was time to get underway.  Soon the settlement
calmed.  There was still a sense of tension in the air, but the wailing
and grieving stopped.  Dezba sent one of young boys over to the Agent's
quarters to get Will some clothes.  Will ate a little to prepare
himself.  He collected the few supplies he'd need.  When he was ready
to go, he looked around for Nadleh.  But she had already gone off on
her mission.  He felt sad that he hadn't gotten to say goodbye.  He
wondered what she was doing.  As he rode away, he remembered his last
sight of Michael Halyerd.  Save yourself, he had called out to him as
Michael fled his father.  He never saw his friend again.  Now as he
fled from Fort Sumner--to save himself--he wondered if he would ever
see Nadleh again.  What if Carleton is not removed?  I certainly have
no place on this reservation, otherwise.  Barboncito's horse seemed to
understand the importance and urgency of this journey and bore him as
swiftly as it could.  They made the distance in under three days.  The
trip was not so exhausting this time.  Will rode, the crucial evidence
at his heart, with ease and expectation.  He was thrilled to realize
what had happened to his life.  He wondered how it had happened and
what it was that really had happened.  How had he returned to
Washington, D.C. to that fateful moment when he'd been given his
appointment?  Of course, he had actually been in that waiting room
sleeping a couple of months ago.  And so somewhere in his mind,
perhaps, he'd heard the telltale conversation.  So maybe, in some way,
Nadleh had rekindled his memories so that he was able to recall what he
had unconsciously overheard.  The European magician Anton Mesmer had
used animal magnetism to induce strange trances in people.  Perhaps
Nadleh had used such animal magnetism on me.  Once a Mesmerist had come
through Lynchburg with a carnival and used this animal magnetism to
cause volunteers to do odd things, such as quack like a duck, while in
deep trance.  His father had preached against the carnival and said,
especially, that the Mesmerism demonstrations were the work of the
devil.  Will felt sorry for his father; the old man's narrow view of
life prevented him from perceiving so many marvels.  It was a marvel
that had somehow brought these papers into his possession.  How had
that happened?  The door being unlocked, the mud he tracked in, his
being clean shaven--these he explained away as coincidence and amnesia.
After all, he'd been exhausted and punchy and famished from days of
traveling even before going into the sweat lodge.  Who knew what state
his mind was in?  Maybe all of it had obvious explanations.  Maybe
Lieutenant Bauer had forgotten to lock the door.  Maybe I had come up
from Nadleh's hogan by way of the creek and gotten my shoes muddy
there--but it was yellow mud I tracked in, not the red clay around Fort
Sumner.  How was that?  Maybe I'd stopped at me quarters in my
delirious state and shaved and had just forgotten.  But how could I
have done that?  And how did I see in the dark?  Will remembered his
childhood hopes of wonder working  In fact, these events were closer
than he'd ever really expected.  He'd used to believe the power to work
miracles would come from being obedient to God's law.  Now he realized
it was the natural outcome of good intentions and a will for the
harmony of life.  Perhaps that's what God's law really is.  Maybe
miracles are always a combination of such things as coincidence,
forgetfulness, and misperception--like sleight of hand.  Perhaps the
real miracle isn't the event, but that the coincidence happened at just
the right moment and that the mind perceived it as a miracle.  That was
certainly miracle enough.  Ahawk again appeared in the sky.  Will felt
its presence a comforting omen.  *** Dr.  Steck was delighted.  I
hadn't expected you back so soon, he said.  This is exactly what we
need.  I'll go to the telegraph office with this right away.  You've
done a great job.

Well, thank you, sir.  I really had the Indians help getting these.
Can't say I can take all the credit.

How's that?  Steck asked quizzically.

I'll tell you the whole story some time, Will promised.  But now I'd
like to get some sleep.  Dr.  Steck accompanied him to the Sangre de
Cristo to get him set up in a room.  I'll order you a bath and a
rubdown, Steck said as they were waiting at the front desk.  You
deserve it, young man.

Thank you, sir, Will answered.  Yes, he was looking forward to a repeat
of that luxurious experience.  He, too, thought he had earned it.  That
evening, he went down to the Yellow Rose Cantina to let Joel know he
was back in town and to have a bite to eat, then enjoyed another
sensuous massage.  Clean, and with all the tension worked out of him,
he slept soundly for the first time in days.  In the morning, Joel was
there to resume the language lessons.  Later Will went to see Dr. Steck
and learned that the messages had been sent.  The Superintendent had
already heard back from his friend Jack Osborne that the news that
Carleton had been defrauding the government and keeping much of the
Indian money for himself had scandalized Osborne's contacts in Congress
and in the War Department.

The federal envoy to the Territory dispatched a military courier to
Fort Sumner this morning ordering Carleton to report back here
immediately to participate in an investigation of the sale of Indian
lands.  The envoy thought that was more directly within his
jurisdiction than the fraud charges.

It also looks like a charge that could have arisen here in Santa Fe,
Will observed.  He'd begun to realize that if Carleton knew what had
really happened, he might retaliate against the Dineh.  Thank God,
Carleton thinks I'm dead.

Well, young man, that's another charge perhaps we should levy against
him--attempted murder.

Let's just get him out of Fort Sumner, Will answered.  And get the
Dineh back to their homeland.

I doubt this action will have much effect on the Indians, Steck said.
Though maybe a new commander at the Bosque Redondo may be better at
caring for their needs.  Will worried that his efforts might come to
naught after all.

Well, not much for you to do now.  You can take a rest.  It's all in
the hands of federal prosecutors.  Will did take the opportunity to
rest.  The second night of his stay at the hotel, he again got a
massage.  He was beginning to feel a bond with the Indian masseur.  The
man, whose name was Ganado Mucho, was a Navajo.  He spoke no English
and only a little Spanish.  Will tried to use the few words of Dineh he
now knew, but Ganado Mucho didn't seem to pay much attention to his
efforts.  He decided to respect the man's silence.  He was in awe of
his strength and awareness and understanding of the human body.  Ganado
Mucho was certainly not a Two-Spirit berdache.  If anything, he was
hyper-masculine.  But there was a deep spiritual calm about him.  Will
imagined he, like Nadleh, must be dear to the Holy Persons.  During the
first week, Will took his Spanish lessons, did a little work for Dr.
Steck at the federal offices, filing and recopying documents, and
helped out at the Chavez General Store.  He was pleased to see that
Joel and Roberto were continuing their partnership in the trading
business.  Joel was also helping out at the store to acquaint himself
with good business practices and to make extra money to deposit to his
bank account.  By the end of a week, Will had grown used to the pattern
of living in the hotel and working at his couple of jobs.  During the
second week, however, everything changed again.  *** One evening he had
eaten, as usual, at the Yellow Rose.  After watching Joelle's first
show, he went back to the hotel.  He tried to read a book Steck had
loaned him about the Indian Wars, but he got restless.  Why haven't we
heard from Washington?  Why isn't General Carleton behind bars?  Why
hasn't the federal envoy sent marshals to arrest the man?  What's
happening to Nadleh?  It wasn't very late, so Will decided to take a
stroll through the gardens.  Stretching his legs might help him get
over the agitation.  He left his room, locked the door behind himself
and headed down the dimly lit corridor.  As he came around a corner, he
walked right into an army officer in full-dress uniform.  The officer
had a pocket flask in hand.  He'd apparently stopped in the corridor to
swig from the flask, just a few steps too close to the corner.  The
officer had had his head tilted back and hadn't seen anybody coming.
When Will bumped into him, the flask spilled, and whisky went all down
the front of his uniform.

Excuse me, Will said, but he kept on walking.

Damn you, man, the officer shouted a little drunkenly.  Don't you walk
away from me.  He screwed the top on the flask, put it into his breast
pocket, and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe at the whisky.  Will
turned back.   Watch where you're going, the officer scolded.

I'm sorry, sir, Will said.  Just then, the army officer looked right at
him.  And he looked back at the officer.

What the hell?  the officer exclaimed.  It's you, Lee.  I thought you
were dead.

Oh, General Carleton, what a surprise to run into you here, Will said
weakly.

I saw your bones in the ashes of that burnt-out Indian hut.

It's called a hogan.

I don't care what the damn things are called, you idiot, Carleton spat
out.  Will could hear slurring in the general's speech.  He continued
backing slowly down the hall.  The general was following him.  I've
been ordered to report to the federal envoy to the Territory.  They put
Bauer in charge and ordered me off my own command.  The general's voice
was rising.  And then I get up here and discover my financial backers
have double crossed me.

I'm sorry sir, Will said meaninglessly.

They said a surveyor name of Williams had come through here.  And said
my land was worthless.  What a damn lie!  Suddenly, a light seemed to
dawn in the general's eye.  Williams?  That was you, William Lee,
wasn't it?  You pretended to be a surveyor and turned my backers
against me. Carleton pulled the pistol from the holster at his side. 
You goddamn son of a bitch.  Damn Peak.  That fool can't do anything
right. Carleton was clearly intoxicated.  Will imagined the man had
reason to be drunk.  He must have just arrived here in Santa Fe to
discover his empire was falling apart.  Carleton started to laugh. 
Well, Lee.  Looks like I'm gonna get the last laugh anyway.  He cocked
the pistol.  Will felt his stomach sink.  He said a prayer to Changing
Woman.

You'll be pleased to learn, I'm sure, Carleton said sarcastically, that
I had those Indians you've been running with arrested for your murder.
That skinny squaw you seem so fond of, and the old lady, and that damn
Chief Barboncito.  Here was a chance to get rid of several
troublemakers all at once.  Carleton waved the gun.  I don't know what
you're doing here.  But you sure look like you just tried to rob me.  I
can't be blamed for defending my person.  Carleton steadied himself. He
raised the pistol and held it at arm's length, aimed right at Will's
face.  Will thought about Changing Woman.  He thought about all he'd
accomplished.  He thought about his dreams of going off to the Navajo
lands.  Now's the time I need a miracle.  Where is Turquoise Boy now?
Just then, Ganado Mucho came noiselessly around the bend in the
corridor behind Carleton.  He was carrying a wooden water bucket in
each hand.  Ganado took in the scene, then looked straight at Will.
Something unspoken passed between them.

Goodbye, Mr.  Lee.  And good riddance, Carleton said and fired.  Ganado
swung one of the buckets, striking Carleton on the arm just as he
pulled the trigger.  Will was blinded by the flash.  He felt the bullet
whiz by his head.  But it missed him, exploding a large clay pot full
of flowers hanging behind him.  Ganado swung the other bucket, this
time striking Carleton powerfully on the head.  The general crumpled
and fell to the floor unconscious.  Will thanked Ganado profusely for
having come around the corner at just the right moment.  Silently, he
also thanked Changing Woman.  He and Ganado carried the unconscious
general into Will's room.  Using the decorative tie-backs from the
curtains, they bound him securely to the bed.  Ganado kept guard while
Will rushed to Dr.  Steck's house.  It struck Will as poetic justice
that a Navajo was now guarding Carleton, keeping him a prisoner, just
as, for the last four years, Carleton had kept the Navajos prisoner. 
Arriving out of breath, he explained what had happened.  Steck was
delighted. Carelton sealed his own fate by attacking a U.S. Government
official, he declared.  Now we really do have a case of attempted
murder.  I'm going to get the sheriff right now.  Will also explained
to Dr.  Steck what Carleton had said about the Dineh leaders being
charged with his murder.  He said he had to get to the Fort as soon as
possible.

We'll have Carleton behind bars tomorrow, Will.  Dr.  Steck promised.
He won't be a threat to you anymore.  Godspeed on your journey.  I pray
you'll be in time.  *** Will rode into the night.  He slept for a while
in the early morning.  Then, soon after sunrise, he started in again.
He didn't know what he was racing against.  What if the military has
already executed Nadleh, Dezba and Barboncito for my murder?  His only
hope was that Carleton's ploy had been to make his scheme look
legitimate by doing his violence through the law.  That probably meant
there would be some kind of trial.  But two weeks have passed already
One question he couldn't answer was how Carleton had seen his bones in
the ashes of the hogan.  Had someone else been in the hogan, someone
who did burn to death?  Day passed into night and then into day again.
He lost track of time.  He rose with firm purpose.  He slept a little
while he allowed the horse to rest and eat, but both horse and rider
seemed propelled by urgency.  Will woke from a short nap, moaning from
a dream in which he came back too late and arrived to find Nadleh,
Dezba and Barboncito hanged outside the gate of Fort Sumner, their
bodies left in the blazing sun as a warning to the Indians of the power
of white man's wrath.  He vowed he would not rest till he reached home.
Naldeh will not die by my fault, he swore.  His heart seethed with
anger and helplessness.  All he could was hurry.  Will felt carried by
the wind at his back.  I'm sure Changing Woman won't desert me now.
She's brought me half way across the continent to help her people. 
When he arrived at Fort Sumner late in the afternoon, he went straight
to Lieutenant Bauer's office.  He knocked hard on the door.

Come in.

The Indians?  Will shouted as he threw open the door, What about the
Indians?  Are they all right?

Lee?  Bauer said with great surprise.  We thought you were burned up.

Well, obviously I wasn t. I'm alive and well, and I pray to God you
haven't done anything to the Navajo leaders.

I saw the bones in the ashes, Bauer said, still perplexed.

What about Nadleh and Dezba and Barboncito?

It's okay, mister.  But I guess you got here just in time.  We thought
they'd murdered you.

What happened?  Will asked urgently.

There was a trial.  Pvt.  McCarrie testified that he'd heard Peak offer
you money for cooperating.  Mac said it didn't seem like you.  But he
admitted he told a Mescalero female about it and said somehow the
Navajos must've got wind of it.  Tell one Injuns, and ya tell em all,
Sergeant Peak testified.

It looked pretty obvious that the Indians killed you for betraying them
and set fire to the hogan to destroy the evidence.  The three Navajos
you mentioned were sentenced to be hanged.  We were waiting for General
Carleton to return.  I thought he'd want to oversee the executions
himself.  He's apparently been delayed in

Carleton's not coming back, Will interrupted.  He's in jail in Santa Fe
for attempted murder and defrauding the U.S. Government.

The general's in jail?  Bauer sounded incredulous.

What about the Indians?

They're in the guardhouse.  I guess there's no case now.  I'll let them
go.  But, Mr.  Lee, this is all very strange.  Did the Indians know you
were alive?  They never said a word in their own defense.  The tall
woman just kept saying you were dead.  My God, Will thought, the three
of them were going to sacrifice themselves.

What about the bones?  Bauer asked.  We all saw human bones in the
ashes of the burned hogan.  General Carleton ordered the pit filled as
your grave.  We even stuck a cross with your name on it, right there in
the middle of the Indian outfit.

It was Peak who set the fire, Will answered, trying to sound assured so
Bauer wouldn't guess he didn't have the slightest idea himself.  Ask
him.  *** Later, as Will talked with Nadleh, Dezba, and Barboncito in
the talking circle near the medicine lodge, he asked Nadleh to
explain.

When you left to go to Santa Fe, you said we should make them think you
were dead.  I knew it had to appear you'd been killed in the fire.

Changing Woman told me where to find the bones of a dead man.  I did
not want to do this, but I knew I had to.  So I went out and brought
the bones back and carefully placed them in the ashes.

I hated doing that, touching the remains of a body and disturbing its
ghost.  I prayed constantly to Changing Woman for protection.  I told
the ghost that he had died because he endangered the Dineh and that
this was a chance to make it up.  Maybe that was right.  Maybe this
helped the ghost to rest.

In the morning, the Hairy Faces came to investigate.  General Carleton
ordered the hogan buried, bones and all.  He said the dead man was
obviously you.

But whose bones were they?  Will asked.  When Dezba told him, Will
burst out laughing.  How absolutely perfect!

But you were going to let yourselves be hanged?  he said.

We will all die, Will Lee, Dezba spoke up.  It is the Dineh who are
important.  So many have died.  We believed your efforts would bring us
back to Dineh bekeyah.  That was all that mattered.  It took Will a
while to calm down.  This was all so amazing to him.  After a bit, he
explained that General Carleton had been called to Santa Fe to answer
accusations of wrong doing, mismanagement, and embezzlement.
Lieutenant--now Captain--Bauer had been put in temporary charge of the
Fort.  Investigators would be coming from the War Department and from
the Office of Indian Affairs.  Will said he was sure the Dineh could
make a strong case for why they should be allowed to leave this
god-forsaken reservation.  *** In the morning, he went to see Captain
Bauer.

Well, Mr.  Lee, you sure seem to have shook up things round here, Bauer
said as he took his seat behind the desk and gestured for Will to take
one of the other chairs.   That's not what I intended, Will answered.
I just wanted to see some problems fixed.

Look, man, I'm not sure how to say this, Bauer was hesitant.  It's not
like I haven't known what's been going on.  When I first started
working for General Carleton, he was a great and brave man.  I guess I
saw the power going to his head.  I knew he was defrauding the
government.  I know I should have turned him in myself.  You wouldn't
believe how many times I've told myself today is the day I do something
about the general.  But, Mr.  Lee, I just never got up the guts to do
it.  Bauer half stood and leaned across the desk and put out his hand.
You're a better man than me.  Will shook the Captain's hand.  What a
turn of events!  This guy was scolding me for not cooperating only two
weeks ago; now he's congratulating me.

Thought you might want this, Bauer said, handing him a sheet of paper.
He saw it was a certificate of death.  It declared William Lee had been
killed in a fire in the Indian settlement while exercising his duties
as civilian Agent.  Will folded the paper and tucked it into his breast
pocket.

Say, Lee, I believe you that Sergeant Peak set the fire.  But who did
die in that fire?

Nobody, sir, Will answered.  Those were the bones of the Mexican raider
that was killed in the attack that day I had the argument with General
Carleton at the dinner table.

That was the night of the chocolate cake?

Right!  The Indians knew it was important that Carleton believe he'd
succeeded in killing me so I could get the necessary evidence to Santa
Fe.  They put the bones in the ashes to trick the Hairy Faces.

Hairy Faces?

That's what they call you soldiers.

Really?  Bauer said.  I didn't know that.  I bet there's a lot you
could teach us about the Indians.  They must really like you.  It seems
those three were willing to let themselves be hanged to protect you.

I guess they do like me, sir.  But that's just because I showed I knew
they were human beings with feelings.  I don't know that they were
exactly sacrificing themselves for me, Captain.  They were sacrificing
themselves for their people.

Chapter Fifteen

Under Captain Bauer's administration, conditions at Fort Sumner
improved.  More food was rationed for the Indians.  Strict orders came
down that none of the soldiers, especially Sergeant Peak, harass Agent
Lee.  Captain Bauer, it turned out, despised Peak almost as much as
Will had.  Peak and some other troublemakers were assigned to tents on
the eastern edge of the reservation, where they were to protect against
attacks on the Navajos from Comanche or Mexicano raiders.  Will thought
of Peak spending the rest of the sweltering summer in the desert as
suitable punishment.  Meanwhile, word came that general William
Tecumseh Sherman himself was coming to Fort Sumner to examine the state
of the Bosque Redondo experiment.  Sherman had been sent out west to
look over the reservations in Indian Territory in what would later be
known as Oklahoma.  He was nearby and was empowered to negotiate a new
treaty with the Indians of New Mexico.  Will was told he'd be called
upon to brief General Sherman.  He could hardly believe it.  Who would
have ever thought a Southern boy would be briefing the Yankee general
who devastated the South so badly just three years before?  Weeks
passed. The summer heat abated.  Autumn rains began to fall.  As the
dust of summer was washed from the trees and brush, the land turned
green. Many of the cactus put out brightly colored flowers.  The Pecos
River began to widen and run deep.  Now what had been but a slow-moving
creek in the summer had become by fall a fast-flowing river.  ***
Hearing that the Peace Commissioners, as they were called, under
General Sherman's leadership would be arriving soon, the Navajos held a
coyote ceremony at Fort Sumner.  Following Nadleh's instructions,
Barboncito led the ceremony.  First, he sent a sizeable number of
Navajos out in various directions until they encountered a coyote, an
animal sacred in the Dineh tradition for its wiliness.  That was a
trait the Indians had had to learn to negotiate with the Hairy Faces. 
Next, the animal was encircled.  Frightened by all the people, it
crouched down to the ground.  Barboncito slowly approached, then
daringly placed a shell bead in the coyote's mouth.  The circle
widened, and the coyote rose slowly and then walked away toward the
west.  By this ceremony, Barboncito was given the power to speak
convincingly to the white leaders, and the sign was given that the
Dineh would be allowed to return to their homeland in the west.  Nadleh
was overjoyed with the outcome.  After Sherman's entourage arrived a
few days later, Will reported to the general about the New Mexicans
enslaving Navajos, Carleton's uncompromising attitude, the starvations,
and other problems that the Navajos had experienced at Bosque Redondo. 
The first order Sherman gave was that the Indians be fed a hearty meal.
The cooks were told to take the supplies from the storehouse for the
troops.  In the future, Sherman ordered, the soldiers and the Indians
would all share the same food.  The soldiers would not feast while the
Dineh starved. Sherman then called for a meeting with the
representatives of the Dineh.  In the parade grounds of Fort Sumner, a
table was set up. Sherman sat on a chair behind the table in the
middle, all splendid in his blue dress uniform.  Clearly, he
represented the Great Father in Washington.  With him, also in chairs,
sat the four other members of the commission: two military officers,
two civilians.  On the ground in front of the table sat the Dineh
representatives.  A crowd of Indians sat behind them eagerly waiting to
see what would happen.  Will and Nadleh were near the front of the
crowd.  Will wanted to be readily available to advise Sherman.  After a
few opening words, General Sherman called on Barboncito.  The Dineh
spokesman welcomed the commission politely, saying, I know you are
great warriors of the Hairy Face army. I honor you for coming here, to
this place far away from your homes, Barboncito spoke eloquently.  I
beg for you to open your hearts to our words.  I beg for you to take
our true thoughts back to the Great Father in Washington.

We Dineh, the people whom the Mexicans call Navajo, are also far from
our home.  Since we were brought to this place, a great many of us have
died.  This ground is cursed with thousands of ghosts of our relatives.
Their spirits tell us, and we know ourselves, it is not right for us to
live here.

We plant the ground, but it does not yield.  The animals we have
brought here have nearly all died.  Our enemies, the Comanches and the
Mexicanos, have stolen our herds, our belongings and even our child en
We have done all we could possibly do.  Yet, we who were once well off,
now sleep on the bare dirt.  My mouth is dry.  My head hangs in sorrow
to see my people so poor and miserable.  Whatever we do here causes
death.  I hope you will do all you can for us.  This hope goes in at my
feet and out at my mouth.  Barboncito sat down.  There was silence
throughout the meeting ground.  The commissioners whispered among
themselves.  Then Sherman addressed the gathering.

All of us are agreed the evidence shows what you say to be true.  We do
not think we need to hear more testimony.  It is obvious the soil
conditions at Fort Sumner do not afford an opportunity for the Navajos
to become self-supporting.  To have each tribe of Indians become
self-sufficient farmers is something the government and the Great
Father in Washington desire greatly.

Therefore, this commission is in unanimous agreement: the reservation
at Fort Sumner should be abandoned.  This is a failed experiment, the
closing of which is long overdue.  Barboncito stood and bowed to
General Sherman.  A look of pride glowed on his weathered face.

But, Sherman continued after the hub hub among the Indians subsided,
there is still another issue.  The question remaining before us is
where the Navajos should be relocated.

We commissioners have just come from the Great Plains, in the area set
aside by the government as the Indian Territory, between Kansas and
Texas.  We were quite impressed with this area.  Those lands are much
better than this desert.  I recommend the Navajos should be moved
there, to the east, to become a part of Indian Territory along with the
other tribes.  Barboncito and the other Dineh looked crushed.  Hadn't
Sherman understood their petition?

But, General Sherman, what the Navajos want is to be allowed to return
to their homeland in the west, Will shouted out.

The government policy is to concentrate all Indians into one territory.
The Navajos will be much better off there.  They can adapt to the
plains easily.  Without another word, Barboncito got up and walked
away. The other Dineh rose and followed him out of the parade grounds. 
The commissioners looked uncomfortable and whispered among themselves.
Sherman asked rhetorically, Why did they leave?

To show displeasure with your proposal, Will responded, walking up to
the table.  Sherman urged, Let us follow them.  We must resolve this
question now.  By the time the commissioners reached the Dineh
settlement along the banks of the Pecos River, Barboncito was
addressing the assembled people in Dineh.  As he spoke, a shrill wail
went up.  The people started crying loudly.  Will led the commissioners
right into the middle of the crowd.  The five white men seemed
uncomfortable, surrounded as they were by a host of the brown-skinned
people they were warring against.  But they followed Will's lead.

Why are they crying?  Sherman asked.

We are afraid we will be moved to still another strange place, Dezba
answered him.  We only want to go back to our homeland.  Several women
rushed to Sherman's feet and fell down weeping, begging in Dineh.
Others did likewise before the other commissioners.  The white men
looked at one another in bewilderment.  What happened next was even
more surprising.  Nadleh turned and, without a word, started walking
toward the river.  Suddenly all the women and children rose, as if by
some silent signal between them, and followed.  They were crying as
they reached the banks of the now swollen Pecos.

What now?  Sherman asked.  Barboncito answered.  The women say that if
you don't let them return to our homeland, they will lead the children
into the river.  Will rushed to Sherman's side.  General, the Navajos
cannot swim.  They will all drown.

Order them to stop, Sherman shouted excitedly at the Dineh leaders.

We men cannot order the women, Barboncito answered.  It is not the
Dineh way.  They are resolved.  After this many years of suffering,
they will die rather than take one more step farther away from our
homeland.  This day will mark the end of the Dineh people.  We cannot
endure any more.

A mass drowning?  one of the commissioners exclaimed.  We can't allow
that.

Why won't you consider another place?  General Sherman asked
Barboncito.  The Dineh leader measured his words carefully.  When the
Dineh first came to this world, First Woman declared that our lands
were bounded by the four sacred mountains and that we should never move
east of the river you called the Rio Grande or west of the river called
San Juan or disaster would befall our people.  Our life here at Bosque
Redondo has fulfilled that legend.

It has been many winters since we were taken away from our home at
gunpoint.  The graves of our ancestors are lonely.  Our children have
no connection to their past.  Outside the area of our mountains and
canyons our medicine has no power.  We sicken and die.  Our sheep
sicken and die.  The Dineh were not meant to live in any other land
than the one of our ancestors.  Barboncito drew his knife.  The Peace
Commissioners gasped.  But before anyone had a chance to move,
Barboncito hurled the knife into the dirt right between Sherman's feet.
If you cannot agree for us to return to our homeland, he said, I ask
you to take this knife and plunge it into my heart right now.  Since we
left our homes, I have already seen too much sorrow, enough for ten
lifetimes.  My heart cannot stand the pain any more.  I will not move
from this spot alive unless it is westward toward my home.  Sherman and
the other commissioners were shaken by this demonstration of Navajo
resolve.  The women and children remained poised by the river's edge.
We have to have time to think about this, Sherman commented nervously.
He stalked away without giving an answer.  The other commssioners
followed.  The group of white men walked a little way toward the Fort.
Will went running after them, begging General Sherman to reconsider.
General, the Navajos are not making an idle threat.  They will drown
themselves.  He looked nervously for Nadleh among the crowd of women.
It was obvious the Indians were not going to disperse after their
departure, and Sherman stopped and spoke with the other commissioners.
Finally, they turned and walked back down to where Barboncito and the
other Dineh chiefs now sat on the sand.  When Sherman approached, the
Dineh did not get up.  Following Will's example, Sherman and his
commission awkwardly sat down on the ground.  There were now no tables
and no chairs to signify status difference.

If the Great Father allowed your people to return to your homeland,
would you guarantee never to wage war again?  Sherman asked straight
away.

We have had enough of war these last ten years, Barboncito replied
earnestly.  Our young men are dead.  Our children cry from bad dreams
of the fighting.  If only you will agree for us to go home, we will
pledge ourselves to peace.  One of the commissioners asked, Will you be
an expense to the government?

We desire nothing more strongly than to support ourselves by our own
labor, Barboncito avowed.  Our women want to farm and weave wool.  Our
men want to rebuild our sheep and horse herds.  All we ask is that the
Mexicanos not attack our settlements and steal our animals and enslave
our children.  If we will be left alone, we know we can become
prosperous again.  All we want is peace in our own homeland.

This much we can guarantee, Sherman broke in.  We have a very powerful
leader in Washington named Senator Sumner.  He is a committed
abolitionist.  He has learned of the enslavement of the Navajos in the
New Mexico Territory and has dedicated himself to stopping all such
enslavement.

The Government of the United States to which I have devoted my life has
just completed a great crusade against human slavery.  All of us are
committed to seeing the last vestiges of this wretched practice wiped
out in our reunited country.  Anyone raiding the Navajos will be
severely punished, by my personal order.

If this is as you say, Barboncito quietly said, then we pledge our
loyalty to the Great Father in Washington, so that we can live in
peace.  This is all we were asking many winters ago when the warfare
started between the Dineh and the soldiers.  Sherman looked around at
the commissioners.  They all nodded their agreement.  He reached across
to Barboncito and grasped the Indian's hand in his.  Very well, then,
we have a treaty.  You can leave this place and go back to your
homeland with the blessing of the Great Father.  Alook of relief
finally appeared on Barboncito's face.  He clasped Sherman's hand for a
long time, not letting it go.  He had not been sure he would live to
see this time.  My knife will go back into its case.  Never again will
it be drawn in anger against the Hairy Faces.  The Dineh will live in
peace with the soldiers.  The Great Father in Washington can smile once
again as well.  Barboncito then stood up and yelled in Dineh to the
crowd of women and children.  A great cheer went up from them, and they
began running back away from the water.  *** That evening, the Dineh
settlement was abuzz with excitement.  Drummers were beating out a
triumphant rhythm.  The people were singing and dancing, jubilant in
the turn of events.  With the flush of success enlivening both of them,
Will and Nadleh walked out away from the camp to be alone.  They
wandered south along the riverbank, past the spot where Will helped the
Dineh trapped in the flood, and past the crook in the river where
Sergeant Peak had tried to rape Nadleh.  The piles of debris had now
been carried away by the flowing waters of the river.  The sun had set.
The sky glowed blue with great fingers of orange shooting up from the
west.  A breeze blew across the face of the desert and wafted gently
into the faces of the lovers.  They laughed quietly together.  They'd
both tired of the struggle to talk.  And even to think.  They simply
longed to relax in each other's presence, certainly one of the joys of
sexual love, Will had discovered.  And so he did not notice that he and
Nadleh were followed.  He did not see that Sergeant Peak was keeping
pace with them about fifty feet to the left and a little ways behind.
Coming upon a patch of vegetation, Nadleh paused to look for medicinal
herbs.  Will was pleased to just stand and wait.  With Nadleh nearby,
he was satisfied staring into the twilight sky.  Suddenly, a shot rang
out.  A chip flew from a rock along the waterline a few inches from
Will's foot.  He jumped and then spun around.  To his surprise, there
was his nemesis waving a pistol at them.

Well, well, well, he said drunkenly, what have we got here?  Just
think, Mister Lee, you was gonna blackmail Sergeant J.F. Peak cause I
saw the male parts on this Injun woman of yours.  Well, la-di-da, look
who's taken up with the freak.

It's just as I thought.  I told the general, after I saw that you'd
moved in with the Injun.  Told im you was doin unspeakable things down
there.  General Carleton--now he was a gentleman--he said he'd believe
you was a traitor, Lee, cause you was a Rebel and all.  But he said he
would not believe that even you would be guilty of such abomination.
Peak laughed menacingly.  Well, I was right.  Now I think mebbe I'll
just shoot me two sodomites.  I'll send your private parts in a box to
the general to prove ol J.F. Peak knew whereof he spoke, just like them
Injuns scalped my daddy.

No, Sergeant, you won't get away with this, Will shouted.

Say, you done told on me bout settin the fire in the Injun camp.  That
damn Bauer's figured out it was me killed that squaw in Ayers cabin and
then made it look like the Injuns took revenge.  Bauer ain't never
liked me much nohow.  Who's gonna stand up for me?  You got my damn
boss fired.  Sergeant Peak ain't so popular round here, mister.  I
don't think I got anything to lose.  So what if I shoot an Injun freak
and a lily-livered, Injun-sympathizing Rebel!  They can only hang me
once.

You are an angry man, Nadleh said.

You bet I'm angry.  I been corn holed by life.  When I was a kid living
with my ma and pa in Nebraska, life was just fine.  Then the Injuns
came.  They burned our house.  They killed my father and my brother
right there.  Shot arrows in em, then scalped em while they was still
alive.  They carried off my mother.  God knows what heathen things they
did to her fore they killed her.  One of em cut my throat and left me
to bleed to death, a seven-year-old boy.  Neighbors saw the smoke and
come to investigate and found me.  I got put in a foundlin home.  The
day the Injuns came was the last day o happiness in my life.  I ain't
got nothin better to do than kill Injuns.

It was not my people who did this to you, Nadleh said firmly but
softly.  Nadleh had clearly understood the emotion and pain in Peak's
story.  There has been too much killing on both sides.  It must stop.

Not fore I kill me the two o you, Peak said.

You are a wicked man, Nadleh said.  You started the shooting that
killed my husband, Segundo.  You do not belong in the lands of my
people.  It is unfortunate your life has been so sorrowful.  But it is
not the fault of the Dineh.

Damn you, Peaked shouted, raising the pistol.

You bring all this on yourself because you have no love in your heart.
Your anger makes you prey to other beings who kill blindly.  It is you
yourself your anger will attack.  With that, a loud whirring sound rose
up from the ground.  Four large rattlesnakes were coiled, with their
heads up ready to strike and their rattles going like crazy, within a
yard of Sergeant Peak's feet.  They must have slithered out of the
nearby brush while the soldier was talking.  Peak reacted.  He fired
his pistol first in Nadleh's direction, and then at one of the snakes.
Both bullets missed their marks, but the concussion startled the
already agitated reptiles.  One of them struck Peak's ankle.  Its fangs
must have pierced right through his boots, because Peak suddenly froze,
then began to scream in agony.  The pistol fired again and again.  Peak
was trying to shoot the snake that was pumping its venom into his leg.
He failed to hit the snake every time, but did succeed in shooting
himself in the other foot.  As the bullet blasted the top of his boot
away, he fell to the ground.  He landed on top of another of the
rattling serpents.  The snake struck right at his throat.  Within
seconds, Peak's neck began to swell, and his windpipe was squeezed
closed by the inflammation around the poisonous bite.  He struggled to
scream, but nothing came out.  His back arched in pain.  His eyes
bulged.  And then his whole body went limp.  As if satisfied, the four
snakes uncoiled and slithered away into the brush.  In a mixture of
triumph, relief, fear, and uncontrollable loathing, Will started to
scream.  Nadleh tried to calm him.

Show respect for the snakes, she said.  They will not harm us.  Will
finally managed to recover his composure.  What a burden had been
lifted!  Carleton is in prison in Santa Fe.  Peak is dead.  The threat
is gone.  The Navajos are going home.  Will had accomplished his heroic
deeds and brought back boons for the people.  But there was still one
more question to answer: What is going to happen to me Agent William
Lee, formerly of the Fort Sumner, was authorized under joint orders of
General William T. Sherman and Dr.  Michael Steck to oversee the
Dineh's homeward journey.  Soldiers were assigned to accompany the
Indians and to protect them.  Will was authorized to dismiss or
discipline any soldier who mistreated the Indians.  One of the soldiers
who was assigned to Will's authority was his buddy, Tim McCarrie.  Will
arranged for a promotion for Mac to Sergeant and put him in charge of
instructing the men in respecting the ways of the Indians.  Even though
his testimony had been used to indict the Dineh leaders, the red-headed
private with the big grin had proved to be a good friend.  Will
regretted that at the end of the journey Mac would return with the rest
of the soldiers for a new assignment.  But he was happy to know there'd
be soldiers sensitive to Indian concerns.  If only there'd been from
the start There was a bustle of activity around the Bosque Redondo as
the Dineh got ready to go.  The camp quartermaster wanted them to wait
a bit longer to accumulate more supplies for the journey.  But the
Dineh were so eager to depart that General Sherman approved an early
march.  Before his own departure, Sherman ordered that the excess
rifles in the military armory be distributed among the Dineh.  The
return journey would not be like the Long Walk eastward when unarmed
Indians were mistreated by their soldier escorts and wantonly attacked
by raiders.  Sherman coordinated carefully with Dr.  Steck in Santa Fe
to make sure adequate protections and supplies would be offered at
every stage of the journey.  The migration went amazingly smoothly.
Considering how many people had to be moved and the weakened conditions
of the Dineh, it was surprising that only a few deaths occurred in the
month-long trek back to Dineh bekeyah.  The people truly had a new
strength, a longing which was pulling them.  With every step, they
seemed more hopeful.  Will was thrilled by their apparent lack of
hatred for the government.  They really seem to want bygones to be
bygones and to get on with their lives without complaint.  And he, in
turn, tried to do everything possible to insure against complaints.  He
joked that he must have requisitioned every available wagon in New
Mexico, allowing at least the old people and the children to ride in
comfort. Of course, some of the Indians had horses and rode proudly. 
With the soldiers escorting them and with some of the Dineh themselves
armed with U.S. Springfield rifles, there were no attacks from raiders.
Dr. Steck kept his word about supplying the Dineh for the journey. 
Every day, traders arrived with wagons full of food, blankets, and
medicines. This trek was a boon to the shopkeepers and traders
throughout the Territory.  The government expenditures improved the
local economy and lessened the resentments which might otherwise have
come from Carleton's previous provisioners and vendors.  Some traders
showed up from Santa Fe.  One of them was the big red-haired man.  He
never seemed to notice that Will's face should have been familiar to
him.  Was it simply the absence of spectacles and facial hair?  He
proudly told Will the newspapers were filled with sympathetic articles
covering the problems faced by the Navajos during the previous years. 
A new wave of support was building among the residents of the Territory
in favor of the Indians.  With strong anti-slavery proclamations being
publicized by the local government and with a general recognition that
peaceful relations would not last unless Indian slavery was ended, most
owners emancipated their Indians held in servitude.  Only a reactionary
minority resisted. But with the government now actively under the
influence of the abolitionists, they could do nothing about it.  With
every passing nightfall, more slaves escaped, and no sheriff's posses
were organized to recapture them.  One day, when the great band were
about half way home, Nadleh pointed out a lone burro approaching the
camp.  The poor burro was packed so high with trade goods, the rider
was hidden.  But as it approached closer, Will could see that the rider
was a small young man.  And in an instant he realized who it was.  Will
introduced Joel to Nadleh who, not surprisingly, took an immediate
liking to him. Nadleh seemed to sense that Joel was a kind of
Two-Spirit Person in his own way.  Joel was not dressed as a girl, but
neither was he wearing regular male attire.  His clothes seemed to be
his own unique creation, with pants so big they looked almost like a
lady's riding outfit.  The whole style was somewhere between masculine
and feminine, reflecting Joel's personality.

I didn't have enough money for a horse, Joel said, but Roberto loaned
me enough to add to what I had from you, Se or Will, to buy this burro.
I named her Monique.  It sounds continental, n est-ce pas?  Roberto is
teaching me French, Joel added proudly.  Just as I was teaching you
Espa ol.

Ay, all of New Mexico knows about your journey.  After you left Santa
Fe, Jesse and Lupe heard the Navajos would be walking home.  The
shopkeepers all said there was money to be made selling supplies to the
soldiers who would be going along.

I bought lots of cigars to sell.  As soon as I heard they came from
Virginia, where mi amigo William came from, I knew this was a good
trade for me.  I bet your troops haven't had a good smoke in a while.
Let me peddle them, yes?

Of course, Will exclaimed.

I also brought some new saddle blankets to make the ride easier.

Well, I'll buy one for myself, Will declared, laughing, and one for
Nadleh.  He paid for the blankets and took them from the pile on the
back of Joel's poor little burro.  Then he sent Joel off to sell his
wares.

She will be my little sister, Nadleh said after Joel had left.  But I
am not happy with these saddle blankets.  Back in our country, before
the time of warfare, I used to weave saddle blankets from sheep's wool
which were much superior.  Nadleh went over to accompany Joel on his
peddling.  Within an hour, they had sold all his cigars and saddle
blankets to the soldiers.  Will noticed that some of the young Navajo
men were kidding with Nadleh and Joel.  He perked up and watched.  The
young men were teasing Nadleh.  I hear she has the penis of a donkey,
one of them shouted.  But takes it like a man.

Cause her asshole's as big as a canyon another one rejoined.

You two must have little ones, Joel shouted back, since you crave
Nadleh s.

Oh, we hear she is the best sex in whole countryside, one of the men
replied, laughing.  For a moment, Will wondered if he'd heard the words
correctly.  He felt his anger rise.  What right do those men have to
say such things?  But then he saw that all of them were smiling and
laughing, Nadleh included.  He remembered Dezba's saying that such
teasing was meant in respect and not ridicule.  How different this
culture still seems to me.  He was glad to have discovered its innocent
ways.  As Nadleh passed him on her way back to camp with Joel soon
after, she reached out and touched his hand affectionately and rolled
her eyes.  Will could almost imagine her saying with a sigh of
reconciled petulance: Men For the rest of the evening, Joel and Nadleh
stayed together gossiping and laughing.  Will hoped they were saying
nice things about him.  He had seldom seen Nadleh as carefree and
happy.  The next morning, Joel took off early, riding briskly back to
Santa Fe on his little burro, now all unburdened except for the roll of
bills in the rider's pocket.  He intended to buy another load of
cigars.  Nadleh persuaded him not to bring any more of the inferior
saddle blankets.  Joel expected to catch up with the march once again
before they reached Fort Defiance and make another tidy profit. Perhaps
he would soon reach his goal of becoming a respectable merchant.  ***
The first season in Dineh bekeyah flowed by smoothly. Once the Dineh
saw their sacred mountains on the horizon and the spidery arms of the
canyons shadowed across the plain, they practically ran into the
territories that had been their homes.  The government wisely provided
each family with a horse, several sheep and crop seeds. This allowed
them to start to rebuild their economy.  As Government Agent, Will
oversaw the distribution of goods.  There were a number of sickly
horses and sheep which Will prevailed on the purveyors to give to him
rather than destroy.  He presented these to Dezba; she and Nadleh
tenderly nursed each one back to full health.  Barboncito had relatives
farther west who had retreated into inaccessible canyons or hid as far
west as the Grand Canyon to escape the 1864 removal.  They now
returned, bringing additional stocks of sheep.  Within a couple of
months, Dezba's settlement held a sizable herd.  Back in their native
land, the Navajos daily fanned out into the countryside, gathering
familiar species of wild plant foods nuts, berries, and roots.  The
Dineh's prized fruit orchards and fertile farmlands along the floor of
the Canyon de Chelly had been destroyed in the warring, but they were
able to reestablish winter gardens of corn, beans, squash, and other
vegetables.  Everyone worked together to prepare for the cold weather
to come.  The boys made bows and arrows to hunt jackrabbits for fresh
meat.  Before it got too cold and the sheep would need their wool
themselves, Dezba and Nadleh and several of the other women used heavy
scissors to cut the matted wool off the bleating animals.  Then later,
after the temperature dropped, they brought the wool inside and
prepared it on carding tools, pulling out the tangles and stretching
the fibers into thread for weaving.  They made dyes from various wild
berries and soaked the wool to give it brilliant colors.  Nadleh set up
a loom and every day worked on transforming the wool into beautiful
colored fabric.  One day, Nadleh presented Will with a woven mat.  This
is how a saddle blanket should be woven, she said.  Now you can ride in
comfort.  Nadleh was right; the weave did make a difference.  Besides
herding, weaving, and searching for wild foods, Nadleh and the others
had begun building new hogans in the traditional style.  They built
brush arbors next to the hogans, where they could lounge comfortably in
the shade.  The thick packed earth walls of the dwellings absorbed the
daylight warmth so that even during the hottest part of the
mid-afternoon the dark interior remained cool.  At night, when the high
desert air cooled, the interior of the hogan remained warm.  Barboncito
said the hogans would retain heat through the coldest winter nights
with only a small fire.  This prediction proved true as the chilly
winds began to blow.  Will told Nadleh he was surprised at the
efficiency of the hogans, How well they hold heat and yet stay cool
when it's warm outside.  Nadleh gave him a look of exasperation.  You
are still surprised at the wisdom of our ways.  Our ancestors developed
the best methods for living in this climate over centuries.  You Hairy
Faces always think your ways are superior.  Our hogans are much more
comfortable than those wood boxes you people live in.

Tell that to the government, Will answered, properly corrected.  They
are the ones upset about me living in a hogan.  That was true, Will
knew.  Dr.  Steck would certainly defend his right to live according to
the Dineh way, but he had learned that bureaucrats and missionaries who
also had a say in Indian affairs had heard tales of him and his
primitivizing.  They disapproved.  Will worried that some of them would
discover that he was married to an Indian male and that there really
was something going on they would want to disapprove of.  As far as the
soldiers and the other whites knew--even Dr.  Steck--Nadleh was Will's
wife and that was that.  White men on the frontier sometimes took
Indian women as common-law wives.  The government generally looked the
other way if an Agent was living in sin with a native woman.  But what
would they do if they found out I am living in sin with a native man?
He dreaded to think.  Will remembered that Sergeant Peak said he had
voiced his suspicions to General Carleton.  From what he had learned of
Jesse McDonald's own past from his dream visit back to the office in
Washington, Will imagined that if Carleton and McDonald ever compared
notes, he might easily be exposed.  Now that they were home and there
was no reason for pretense, Nadleh sometimes dressed as a woman and
sometimes as a man.  She began to follow the style of so many of the
Dineh women who'd adapted the castoff clothing of the Hairy Faces,
pulling the hoops out of the white ladies hoop skirts and decorating
the fabric to make regal-looking gowns.  In the satins and velvets, the
Dineh women all appeared particularly dignified.  Will bought Nadleh a
blue velvet frock from one of the traders.  She tore out some of the
seams and redesigned the dress to suit herself and Dineh styles. Nadleh
had come across a crude religious painting of the Blessed Virgin Mary
among the wares of a Mexican trader.  The Madonna was clad in the same
shade of blue.  Nadleh joked with Will that now in her blue velvet
dress she looked like God's mother.  She kept the dress for ritual
occasions and for special times with Will.  Most of the time, it
seemed, Nadleh was a partner and equal to Will and Will was a partner
and equal to Nadleh.  Outside Dineh culture, Will knew, such
arrangements wouldn't be tolerated.  And so he seldom went to the
trading posts and even less often to Fort Defiance.  He kept his
reports short and to the point, stressing that the Dineh were
readjusting to their homeland quite well, and there was no need for any
further government intervention.  In the Navajo homeland, Will seldom
heard English spoken.  His absorption of Dineh came much faster.  It
was still difficult for him to express complex thoughts, but he was
improving his skills daily.  He learned to herd sheep, locate water,
and live in the desert.  One day after the hard freezes of January and
February had passed and the days were beginning to lengthen, Barboncito
returned to the camp guiding a pair of horsemen.  It was Joel and
Roberto.

We had to search all over Navajoland for you, Joel exclaimed.  I've
been missing you and Nadleh.  Roberto and I wanted to see your new
home.  So here we are.  He added, And we want to introduce you to these
ni os.  Roberto jumped down, shook Will's hand in a formal but
affectionate way, then turned back to the horses and helped down two
Indian children that had been riding, one with each of the adults.
There was a girl and a boy, both about seven or eight years old.  They
allowed themselves to be introduced to Will and Nadleh and Dezba and
Barboncito, then ran off to play with the other Dineh children whom
they saw were laughing and running around the settlement.

I found them wandering the streets in Santa Fe.  Their parents had
died, and they had no relatives.  I took them to the cantina and fed
them.  Jesse and Lupe took care of them for a while.  But then Roberto
said we should bring them to you.  They are Navajo ni os.  We do not
know their names.  We thought you should give them proper Dineh
names.

And see, Joel added, the boy is so gentle and the girl -oh, she is so
determined to be her own person.  I think we will discover one day that
they are both Two-Spirit Persons.  Like us, he proudly proclaimed.  We
will adopt them, Nadleh announced.  Will shook his head in disbelief.
Wait a minute; would this be the best thing for them?

Of course, it would, Roberto said.  There's no one in Santa Fe for
them.  They would have to go to the Catholic orphanage.

You will make a wonderful padre, Joel chirped.  And who could make a
better madre than Nadleh?

And I will be grandmother, Dezba added her approval.  It's time you and
Nadleh got some children.  You are a married couple now.

But why not a man and woman who already have children?  Will suggested.
They would know better how to raise them.

But why?  Nadleh asked.  We have no children.  Why should they go to
adults who already do?

It only makes sense for you to take them, Dezba said.  The Dineh
believe those without any children of their own should be the first to
be adoptive parents.  Nadleh will give them all the mothering they
could want.  And you, William, will make a better father than you
realize.  Will had to admit Dezba was probably right.  Even though he
had seen how naturally the Dineh had accepted him and Nadleh as a
couple, down deep inside he had thought two males could not provide as
good a family as a male and a female.  But perhaps Changing Woman has
brought these children to us for a reason.  Perhaps ripples from early
lives reverberating through the spirit-field have brought them here,
just as the ripples from Segundo's life had apparently brought me to
Nadleh and to Dineh bekeyah.  Nadleh called to the children.  Within
moments, they were sitting comfortably and unafraid in her lap.  Dezba
was right.  Nadleh was a natural mother.  Will recalled how much he'd
liked mentoring Joel.  Maybe I can be a father, after all.  These
children needed a home.  Will shuddered to think what would happen to
them in an orphanage.  Maybe Joel is right about them.  What if either
or both of them grow up to be Two-Spirited?  Will would not want them
raised by guilt-ridden Christians.  Wouldn't they be better with good
exemplars like me and Nadleh?  And if they are not Two-Spirit Persons,
wouldn't they still be better off to grow up in an household where
their own choices about their lives will be respected?  Will bent down
and asked the boy, How would you like to stay here and live with us? He
kissed the girl on the cheek.  We can teach you how to herd sheep,
farm, and weave beautiful blankets.  We can laugh and play and help
each other.  I can teach you how to read.  The youngsters shyly hid
their faces, but giggled in anticipation.  They jumped out of Nadleh's
lap and ran back to the other children who were standing around
watching to see if these newcomers would be welcomed into the Dineh
family.  Will looked at Nadleh, then nodded solemnly in agreement.
Nadleh had tears in her eyes.  The other children all saw and began
jumping up and down in glee.

Let us name them Segundo and Anrelina, Will suggested.  Dezba and
Barboncito began to cry tears of joy.

See how they laugh, Nadleh said to Will, smiling widely.  Among the
Dineh, we celebrate when a child first laughs.  It is a very special
and holy sign.

Probably the parents of little Segundo and little Anrelina were not
able to celebrate this event with their people, Dezba said.  Nadleh,
you will have to arrange such a ceremonial now.

It will be an honor, Nadleh answered.  We are creating a family.  Will
felt a pang of joy well up in his heart.  Nadleh seemed so handsome to
him and so desirable.

Don't you two want a family?  Will turned to Joel and Roberto and
teased them.

We are the godparents of Maria, Lupe's little girl, Roberto answered.
Pointing toward Joel, he added, We told the padre this is mi esposa
Joelle.  He laughed heartily.

But now we have a great business enterprise to launch, Joel broke in
proudly.  We are not yet ready to be parents.

But after you are rich Will said.

Then we will free all the children in the orphanage, Roberto said in
grand exaggeration.  And make the most grande familia the West has ever
seen.  They all laughed.

Speaking of business, Joel chirped, let me show you what I have here.
He reached into one of the saddlebags on his horse and brought out a
streamlined metal instrument.  He held it up for all to see.

What is it?  Nadleh asked.

A sheep shear  Dezba suggested.

S', Joel answered.  It is the newest design.  See how easily it fits
the hand.  He passed it to Dezba.  Barboncito, who had been watching
all this from his horse, jumped down and went over and brought a sheep
from the flock.  It had been sheared already, but the fleece was
beginning to grow out.  Nadleh and Dezba took turns with the newfangled
instrument.  It was clearly easier to use than the heavy scissors they
had been wielding.  Joel offered a deal.  He would leave several of the
shears for free if Nadleh would weave some saddle blankets in exchange.
Joel said he wanted to establish commerce with the Dineh.  He would
bring manufactured goods to barter for Dineh weavings and blankets and
other goods the Indians produced.  He said he would sell the blankets
to the cowboys on the range and trade what he had gathered for cows.
Then he could sell the cows in Santa Fe.  The cowboys would have better
blankets and ride more comfortably.  The Dineh would prosper.  And he
and Roberto would get rich.  In a joke that no one appreciated but
himself, Will declared to Joel, Why Santa Fe could become the wool
capital of the country Dezba thought the plan would be good for
everybody all around and agreed wholeheartedly.  She invited the two
visitors to come up to the brush arbor and rest.  Nadleh said she would
prepare supper.  As they ended their business dealing, Joel reached
into his saddlebag again.  Will, Dr.  Steck asked me to deliver this
letter to you.  He said it was muy import ante

Oh, Will answered.  He took the envelope and tore it open.  Inside was
a note in Steck's handwriting.  Also a formal letter on Indian Agency
stationery.  He read it first.  Dear Agent Lee, On the advice of the
Commissioner of Indian Affairs, Mr.  Jesse McDonald, this office has
concluded that you may be setting a bad example for the Navajo
civilization.  It has come to the attention of the agency that you are
intimately involved with a Navajo Indian of scurrilous reputation.  The
government of the United States cannot condone the commission--or even
the hint of commission--of such offenses as we understand these savages
are capable of.  We are concerned that you may be endangering the
salvation of your soul by continued residence among the savages.  Think
of your Christian heritage.  You are hereby ordered to return for
reassignment to a clerkship in the Washington office.  Residence in a
civilized city will bring you to realize the error of your ways. Pastor
Louis Sheldon, also an associate of the agency, has offered to assist
you in your reconversion to the Christianity of your upbringing. Your
employers are sure you will be pleased to benefit from the Pastor's
kind offer.  You are to report to the Indian Office in Santa Fe as soon
as possible.  A ticket will be awaiting you.  If you do not report for
reassignment, we will be forced to dispatch federal marshals.  Will was
stunned, though, he had to admit, he was not really surprised.  He had
been expecting something like this.  He had made enemies in the Indian
Office with his attacks on General Carleton.  It is just as I feared;
now Carleton and his buddies are going to get the last laugh after all.
It's as clear as can be.  After a decent interval has passed, my
expose of the Fort Sumner fiasco is going to subject me to bureaucratic
punishment.  He looked at the note from Steck.  My friend, I am sorry
about this.  There is little I can do.  You may soon learn that I have
retired from the Office of Indian Affairs.  Now that the Dineh are
resettled in their homeland, I believe my work is completed here. 
Agnes and I are returning to Ohio, where I hope to reestablish my
practice as a physician.  If you return to Santa Fe soon I look forward
to seeing you.  You are a good man.  If I can help in any way, you may
certainly call on me.

Your friend,

Michael Will followed the others over to the brush arbor.  A cool wind
was coming up, and Nadleh was preparing a tea made from native plants.
Will was trembling.  He read the letter from Washington to his friends.
After he finished, Nadleh asked quietly, as if she were preparing
herself for bearing a difficult and painful emotion, What will you
do?

What else can I do?  They're going to come after me.  That could
endanger all of you, he answered, afraid of what he was about to say.
Let me think about this.  He excused himself and started to walk away.
When Nadleh jumped up to follow, Will gestured to her to stay where she
was.  I need to be alone.  He walked away from the settlement and stood
among the trees.  He gazed out into the valley that had now become his
home.  Iwould never have come west, he told himself, but for the
machinations of Jesse McDonald.  Can I stay in the West, especially
without the government job?  Will recalled that he'd discovered he
could make a living as a sales clerk in Santa Fe, but that was not a
life he wanted.  Can I give up my employment, my security?  Can I
really give up my identity as a civilized human being?  Can I give up
being a white person, with a long Virginia heritage?  Will knew he
couldn't hide out here for long.  If Carleton and McDonald and the
others are going to get their revenge, won't they soon send the
soldiers here to arrest me and take me back by force?  Won't they use
that as an excuse to abrogate the peace?  Am I going to do once again
what they tell me to do?  Or wait for them to come for me?  Do I have
any real choice?  Of course, he told himself, the answer is obvious.
The official are right: Mr.  William Lee of Lynchburg, Virginia cannot
remain in the West living like an Indian wild man Will turned and
headed back toward the Dineh settlement.  As he approached the brush
arbor where his friends were waiting, he worried over his decision one
last time and then detoured over to the hogan he shared with Nadleh. 
He rummaged around to find his mother's worn carpetbag.  Here were the
few personal belongings he'd kept from civilization.  He found what he
was looking for.  He opened the folded sheet of paper and then took a
quill and ink and quickly scratched a new date on the top of the page,
then carefully tore off the signature that was penned at the bottom. 
There would be room for Dr.  Steck to sign it over again and make it
official.  When Will returned to the brush arbor, everyone was waiting
in silence.  A look of sadness hung over the little group of friends.
Will held up the paper for them to see.  He said to Joel, When you
return to Santa Fe, please take this to Dr.  Steck.  Tell him it
requires his signature.

What is it?  Joel asked timidly.  He hated to see Will leave the
frontier.

It's my death certificate, Will answered.  It says here Agent William
Lee was killed in a fire in the Indian settlement.  It doesn't say
where the settlement was.  Let it be here, he said and grinned.  He
died once before in the buggy in front of his father's church, and it
had started him on a new life.  Now he would die again and win that new
life for good.  You are my dearest friends, my family.  I have learned
from you the meaning of friendship.  I have found a reason to live.  As
far as the United States Government is concerned, William Lee is dead.
They will not come for me.  He turned to Nadleh, Will you prepare a
ceremony?  I want to be called by a proper Dineh name.  And ask
Changing Woman to see that our needs are provided for.  After all,
we've now got two children to support.  The future of our family
depends on it.  Will bent down and kissed Nadleh on the forehead.  She
was weeping openly.  Will, too, started to cry.  These were tears of
happiness and rejoicing, tears for a life that had passed beyond, tears
for a new beginning.  *** Will also sent back with Joel a short letter
to Harry Burnside.  It said simply that he was very grateful for all
the help he had received.  He told Harry that he would probably hear
rumors that he had died out in the West.  He said he couldn't confirm
or deny the rumors.  There seemed to be truth on both sides.  He asked
Harry to drop a note to the Reverend Joshua Lee.  He wanted the old man
to know his son had lived and died well, that in dying as he had, he
had done something heroic.  He said he wasn't sure the Reverend Lee
would understand it if he knew the details, so it was better for him
just to know that one of the last things the boy said before his
identity passed out of the world of civilized men was that he thanked
his father for starting him on this adventure and that he forgave him
for not knowing what he had done.  \020Epilogue

One beautiful spring morning, the white-skinned Dineh herdsman, who was
called Manuelito after one of the great leaders of The People, rode up
to the top of the fertile valley where he and his family lived.  He
rode high to the summit of a bluff where he could see out into the
whole canyon.  He could spy the hogans of the outfit; the gardens
glowed green even from this far away.  In the distance, he could see
the two tall pinnacles of red-orange sandstone that stood at the mouth
of the canyon.  He understood why the legends of the Hairy Faces had
called this the Navajo fortress.  With its steep walls, branching
canyons, rocky prominences and lookouts, it made an excellent
stronghold and safe haven.  It was as though the Earth itself had
opened up a fold in her body to provide a home for The People.  This
place looked familiar to him.  He had been here before, he remembered. 
Manuelito felt the sun on his face and chest.  In the lowlands, the air
had been balmly, and he'd gone out riding bare-chested.  But it was
cool in the high reaches.  The warmth of the sun felt good.  He
wondered if anyone he'd known during his childhood would ever hear of
him again.  He thought not.  As far as that world was concerned, he had
disappeared forever. He looked out at the land.  He thought about the
cities of the Hairy Faces.  He remembered how crowded and unfriendly
the streets of Washington, D.C. had been.  He knew how powerful were
the ways of the Hairy Faces.  He knew these white-skinned people had
crossed a wide sea to come to this land and then plodded across the
continent to settle in every fertile and habitable part of it.  He
wondered if someday they would bring their cities to this very valley. 
Manuelito saddened to think what those people might do.  He prayed to
Changing Woman that human beings never forget about her and about the
sacredness of the Earth.  Still, he thought it was inevitable that the
Hairy Faces would come and that the old ways of the people whom he had
adopted as his own would be mostly forgotten.  Manuelito had come to
believe Nadleh's explanation that each person's life makes ripples in
the spirit-field. Everyone of us lives on the crest of a wave.  That
wave comprises the ripples of every life that went before.  We are all
always living out the unlived lives of our ancestors.  They live on in
us as we live on in those who come after.  That is why we should choose
the best and most vital parts of their dreams, aspirations, and
intentions, so that that is what will live on of us.  Through the help
of old Harry Burnside, through the wisdom of Walt Whitman and his
loving comrades, and through his own willingness to look beneath the
surface of race and culture and find his own Two-Spirit nature in his
love for Nadleh the Two-Spirit Person, he had discovered a new life. 
Somehow the ripples of the life of the brave warrior who died at the
gate of Fort Defiance had reverberated in his spirit, and in him
Segundo had lived on to help his people and free Nadleh from her
mourning.  Manuelito was grateful for all the ripples that had passed
through him and made him who he was.  He hoped his own life would
reverberate so well in other souls someday.  Manuelito wondered if the
Hairy Face culture of that future when they had overrun these lands
would understand the nature of Two-Spirit Persons.  He wondered if
someday in that strange, unimaginable future other Two-Spirit Persons
would arise to help bring the human race back to its true homeland, to
remind people that the rigid, patriarchal, guilt-ridden,
nature-defiling ways of the white culture are but one way to perceive
and treat the world, and that a new time will dawn when those ways too
will fade in a whole new awakening of Earth's spirit.  He hoped that
someday Two-Spirit Persons of the future might hear of and remember him
and Nadleh and reverberate to the ripples created by their lives. 
Perhaps someday Two-Spirit Persons will hear tales of their
predecessors and remember their own deepest identity and heritage as
spirit guides and leaders in recreating a religious attitude that
honors the human body and honors the earth. The Dineh herdsman who had
once been called Will Lee hoped so.  The spring breezes in the high
places of the Dineh beyekah were sharp and cold on his skin.  And
presently Manuelito turned his horse and headed back down into the
valley.  About the historical accuracy of this novel

This story is fiction, based on historical events.  In the 1860s, the
Navajo Indians were, in fact, subjected to total war and forced to
leave their homeland on the Long Walk.  General James Carleton was
actually the commander at Fort Sumner and was finally removed for
malfeasance.  General William Tecumseh Sherman did allow the Navajo to
leave the Bosque Redondo after negotiating with the Navajo spokesperson
Barboncito.  The characters of Dezba and Barboncito are based on real
people with those names.  They and the other Dineh actually lived the
ordeal of the Bosque Redondo experiment recounted here, and they helped
their people return to the ancestral homelands of the Dineh.  The
character of the English teacher John Blewer is entirely fictional,
however, introduced for the purposes of storytelling.  Few Navajos
spoke English at that time.  Had the Dineh characters been unable to
speak English, Will (and the reader) would have had much more
difficulty learning the wisdom of the Two-Spirit way.  The character of
Will is also entirely fictional, though there was an Indian Agent at
Fort Sumner in the 1860s who did help the Navajos.  The word Nadleh is
the Dineh term used for Two-Spirit Persons.  While this particular
Nadleh is fictional, there were undoubtedly Two-Spirit healers like
Nadleh among the captives at Bosque Redondo.  Such androgynous, third
and fourth gender, Two-Spirit Persons were highly respected not only
among the Navajo, but also among many other Native American cultures.
Nadleh, by the way, is the actual word Dezba would used, not
Two-Spirit.  The term Two-Spirit comes from a Anishinabe/Ojibway term,
nizh manitoag, which was officially embraced by lesbian, gay, bisexual
and transgendered Native Americans at an international gathering in
Winnipeg, Manitoba in 1990, to describe the third and fourth gender
persons of Indian cultures.  The fictional relationship between Will
and Nadleh is based on a certainty that, just as in our day same-sex
relationships cut across races and social classes, so some white men on
the Western frontier must have formed loving relationships with Native
American males.  It makes sense that those we today would call homo
sexually oriented were encouraged by Native Americans supportive
attitudes toward same-sex marriage and acceptance of same-sex
eroticism.  The reader may have noticed that Will never wondered if he
were homosexual or gay.  That is because those words--and concepts--did
not yet exist.  Homosexual was not coined until the late 1800s.  Gay
consciousness did not develop until the twentieth century, though it
did grow partly out of the ideals of the dear love of comrades
expressed in Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass.  The reader may also have
recognized in the name of Harry Burnside a co mingled homage to Harry
Hay and John Burnside, men of our own day who helped create the modern
gay movement and articulated, especially, its aim of reclaiming
spiritual identity as part of homosexual orientation.  Native American
traditions of respect for Two-Spirit Persons go back to ancient times,
however, and the discovery of such traditions has struck a positive
chord among self-identified gay, lesbian, transgender and queer people
of the twentieth century.  Many modern queer folk have found in these
traditions evidence of a spiritual identity that they have felt
strongly burning in their own souls, but for which they found little
support in Christianity or mainstream American society.  The spiritual
wisdom of this story is presented in the imagery of Navajo religion but
does not necessarily accord with Navajo orthodoxy.  The tales from
Dineh myth are actual stories, however their particular interpretation
and application in this story, which is itself a mythologization,
perhaps necessarily more reflect the issues and values of modern life
out of which the authors own mythologizations arise than accurately
describe the Dineh worldview.  In particular, the concept of ripples in
the spirit field derives less from Native American religion than from a
sort of Buddhistic, New Age notion of afterlife conceived by the
authors to explain the place of sexual variance in evolution by
addressing the karmic quality of gay identity.  According to developing
gay spiritual awareness, one of the major needs in the creation of
contemporary gay culture is to place variant sexuality and gay identity
directly in the line of the transformation of humankind through
evolution.  Gay people need to know their place in the scheme of
things.  Non-gay people need to accord them their rightful place.
Establishing the claim to one's place in evolution is a function of
mythology.  In the past, people whom today would be called gay or queer
were the seers, shamans, soothsayers, wizards, witches, mystics,
oracles, wise old men and wise old women of legend.  While some of
these individuals were persecuted by the institutions of religion, and
sometimes because of the persecution, they have been centered in the
driving force of the evolution of consciousness.  That these queer
forebears created ripples in the spirit field to which modern lesbians
and gay men resonate offers a mythical way of describing gay identity
that places us clearly in the line of responsibility for the Great Work
of saving the world and perfecting Humankind.  As Nadleh and Will were
messengers of Changing Woman, so today their spiritual descendents are
messengers of Gaia the World Soul to an overcrowded, ecologically
imbalanced, and mythologically bereft modern world.  To offer an
entertaining and appealing reminder of that age-old identity is the
aspiration of this book.

About the Authors

One of the people primarily responsible for bringing to light Native
American Two-Spirit traditions is Walter L. Williams, Ph.D. He is
professor of anthropology and gender studies at the University of
Southern California, where he teaches gay, lesbian, bisexual and
transgender studies, and also American Indian Studies.  He is past
president of ONE Institute International Gay and Lesbian Archives, and
is currently editor of the INTERNATIONAL GAY AND LESBIAN REVIEW.  His
award-winning non-fiction book The Spirit and the Flesh: Sexual
Diversity in American Indian Culture carefully and inspirationally
recounts the respected place many Native American cultures accord to
persons who combine both the spirit of man and the spirit of woman into
their personality and sexual behavior.  Based on his own experience
talking with Dineh people on the Navajo reservation and on his wide
reading in Navajo history, Walter Williams conceived and crafted the
story of this book.  Out of the real historical events of the tragic
1860s Bosque Redondo experiment, he wove a plausible story showing how
same-sex relationships in the past might have helped bring disparate
kinds of people together, at least to accord each other respect,
freedom, and love.  These are traits needed in the contemporary
multicultural society.  Edwin Clark (Toby) Johnson, Ph.D."  one of the
most thoughtful gay fiction writers today, joined the project to give
novelistic texture and style to Walter's story.  His style of mystical
gay-positive storytelling is exemplified in his gay spiritual novels
Getting Life in Perspective and Plague and the Larimy-winning science
fiction novel Secret Matter.  In 1996, Johnson assumed the role of
editor of the quarterly journal of gay men's spirituality, White Crane.
Walter Williams and Toby Johnson discovered in each other parallel
interests in communicating such Native American wisdom to people of
many backgrounds.  By combining the strengths of both the scholar and
the novelist, they provide a way to reach readers that either alone
could not accomplish.  Walter Williams can be contacted at the
University of Southern California, Anthropology Dept, Los Angeles CA
90089-0032.  Toby Johnson can be contacted through Peregrine Ventures,
P. O. Box 1018, Conifer, CO 80433-1018,
http://www.whitecranejournal.com.