March 8th
The Navajo woman watched the man people called Jake Bonham ride into the ranch valley, the little valley that now felt so much like home. Sitting concealed in the over-watch post atop the sandstone rim above the valley, she had been waiting for him. To everyone else, she was just taking her turn at the watch post, but to her she was watching for the one she called cowboy. The sun was setting in the western sky. The evening breeze blew her black hair across her face. She tossed her head and the long hair flowed back in place. Winter had been loosening its grip upon the land. Some hardy mourning doves had come with the warming weather to arrive early at this place. They were down by the spring making their mournful yet peaceful calls.
The woman pondered what she had seen in the passing days. Everything had been magnified immensely, both good and evil. The quality of men’s hearts were revealed in times like these. Those that had integrity and nurtured high ideals now shone forth more brightly in this brutal world. Those who had harbored base and low desires now acted upon them with abandonment. She had seen how quickly men could become savage in their actions. Her mother and father had fallen to such people.
She liked watching the cowboy. She had seen him act in a savage manner but it was in the defense of others. He was not savage inside. Quite the opposite, there was a softness that he kept hidden deep within him. She could see it come out when he was with his children. His face would light up and he was quick with a smile or a word of encouragement. His work, his efforts and the worry that crossed his face were all centered on the wellbeing of his family.
She saw that the cowboy had foresight and had seen what was coming to this country. He had prepared for years and taken steps to protect his family. She could see there had been ideals that had been passed to the cowboy from the old ones. The ranch was a place where those ideals were nurtured and passed on to the next generation.
She recognized the unseen spirit of this place because it was the same as where she had been raised. She had been raised in a remote corner of the Navajo reservation. The circumstances of her childhood had been that of very humble means, being raised in a hogan with the family living off a small sheep herd. But it was a happy childhood where she and her siblings had been sheltered and loved.
This was such a place. She was drawn to this place, to these people and to this man. She had never married, and at the age of thirty-two, she pondered why she had not. It was not for the lack of men wanting to be with her, in marriage or out of marriage. At the age of thirty-two she looked the same as she did at twenty two and the men still sought after her. She knew why she had turned them all away. She was looking for a man’s man, not a boy in a man’s body.
Her father had been the model of the man she desired. He was a descendant of Manuelito and had sought to walk in the footsteps of the great chief. Chief Manuelito had led his people before, during and after the Apache and Navajo roundup in 1864. During this time the tribes were taken to Bosque Redondo in the New Mexico Territory. It was known as the Long Walk.1 In 1868, when the Navajo people returned to their lands, destitute and in rags, he helped to restore the herds and prosperity of his people. She had grown up on the stories of the Chief and wanted a man like that.
She had set a high bar, and as the years had gone by, started to doubt if she would ever find him. She thought back to the stormy winter night when she had first seen the cowboy. She remembered the fear that had come over her when she had awoken to the man standing over her. Had she been a little swifter, her aim with the knife a little truer, the cowboy would now be dead. She shuddered at the thought. So many leaned upon this man for strength, for shelter, for protection …
The man worked tirelessly, giving to those he cared about and he did not lean on anyone except his God. All of this could be seen easily by those around him but she saw something else in the man that others did not. They did not see the loneliness that he kept hidden. It was not the loneliness of not having family or friends, he had those, but this cowboy kept the deepest parts of himself to himself. It was locked tightly and she knew that it would open only to one. It would open only to one that he trusted completely and it could only be a woman.
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1 The Long Walk: In 1864 more than 10,000 members of the Navajo and Apache tribes were driven to Bosque Redondo. Four years later when they were released more than 2300 of them had died. For many years Chief Manuelito was a great leader of the Navajo people.
Chapter 24
ANTIBIOTICS
March 9th
Dan’s horse sat down on his haunches as it slid down the rocky sides of the ravine. It was steep and rocks rolled as dust rose up around him. Reaching the bottom he pulled his horse to a stop and waited for Cat to make the descent. Down she came without a second thought or hesitation. All the ranch horses were sure footed in the rough stuff. It would have been easier to stay on the dirt road or one of the main cattle trails, but Dad had asked them to be extra careful. That meant traveling off of any beaten path or road. They were on their way to Kanab, taking the long way around down through Kanab Creek.
“Dan,” Dad had said to him the night before, “I have tried to store up as many things that I could think of that a family might need in a time of crisis. There is one thing that I have struggled to get enough of and that is antibiotics. For those that become wounded or injured, it can mean the difference between life and death.”
“It has now been more than a month since things went over the edge and people will be willing to trade just about anything for food stuff. Here are eight quarts of vegetable oil. Of all food items this is the most valuable. A person can cook roots, bark or bugs in this oil and make them palatable. In Germany after WWII, people could trade a pint of cooking oil for a fifty pound bag of potatoes. Find the veterinarian in Kanab, you should remember him, his name is Kelly. Trade this cooking oil for antibiotics. Kelly’s a good man with a good family, make a fair trade and don’t drive a hard bargain.”
Cat’s horse reached the bottom of the ravine and they continued south towards Kanab.
“It’s good riding with you again, Cat,” Dan said. “When I left home you weren’t even in junior high yet.”
“I might have been young, Dan, but I was getting almost as good as you with a rope when you left.”
“That’s because you were a little squirt and got to do the roping with the twins while Dad and I did all the throwing of the calves,” Dan said.
“Yeah, those were good times. We have really missed you here at the ranch, especially Dad. He had always hoped that you would settle here and get a ranch of your own.”
Dan didn’t say anything for a while as they rode on. He was looking for a break in the side of the ravine in which they could ride out. Coming to a promising spot, he turned into it and the horses began the labored climb to reach the top. Once he and Cat had reached the top, he drew rein and gave the horses a breather.
“I haven’t been here much in these last years but it’s good to be here now. I’d forgotten how much I do love this place.”
“You fit here, Dan. You’re even looking normal back in your Wrangler jeans and boots. Those pants you came a wear’n were funny looking.”
“They weren’t funny looking. That was the latest style in California.”
“They were funny looking, Dan. California can’t make up its mind from one year to the next what looks good. That is, it used to be that way. I imagine style is the last thing on their minds now.”
Cat drew silent and she could tell that the trail of this conversation was getting close to recent and tender memories for Dan. The death of Jamie was not that long ago and she had often seen Jill rock baby Vondell with tears in her eyes. The little baby that she had brought to the ranch helped to fill Jill’s empty arms. Caring for the infant had brought comfort but it did not fill the hole.
The horses were rested and they started on again. The morning passed to noon and they drew close to the nationally famous Best Friends Animal Sanctuary located
on the creek. They stayed to the east side of the creek, skirting the sanctuary. It was a large stretch in the canyon of the creek, taking in many acres, filled with barns, corrals, fields, and houses. Normally there would be hundreds of animals there. Now there were none. There was no guessing what had become of them. They had all been eaten—horses, dogs, and cats. The place had a bad feel to it.
It was early afternoon when they reached the ravine called Hog Canyon. It was the last side canyon before Kanab Creek opened up to the town of Kanab. Deep into the canyon Dan and Cat stopped at a hidden overhang. The overhang was concealed by a tall thicket of scrub oak at its front.
Once the horses were inside of the overhang, Dan and Cat loosened their cinches and waited for dark. They would use the cover of darkness to ride in and out of Kanab. No use inviting any extra trouble.
Cat took first watch as Dan stretched out on the sandy floor to close his eyes. Before putting his cowboy hat over his face he made an off-hand comment.
“There’s a lanky boatman I hope shows up here at the ranch. I owe him a lot.”
The boatman never came.
After a couple of hours Dan switched places with Cat. Before the first stars appeared they were both back in the saddle, working their way back out of Hog Canyon. Staying to the creek bottom they rode until they came to Kanab.
Coming out of the creek, they rode quietly down the dark side streets of the town. It was dark. No more street lights, no more porch lights and only dim lights from candles or kerosene lamps coming through the windows.
The streets were empty with no one out and about. The clip clop of the horse hooves on the pavement was louder than they wanted. At first they feared rousing some dog whose barking would reveal their presence. Then they remembered the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. There would be no dogs here either.
Taking one more turn, they came to the home of Kelly, the vet. A wood picket fence surrounded the two-story redbrick home. The house was built by an early resident of the town. It was old but well-built with a tidy yard.
From the backs of their horses they could see through the window into the kitchen. A kerosene lamp glowed in the middle of the table and a man was tipped back in a kitchen chair with his military boots propped up on the table.
That could not be Kelly as the man was in military fatigues. Kelly’s wife, who was known as Mrs. Kelly, was clearing dishes from the table with her teenage daughter helping. The daughter was staying close to the side of her mother as they worked. This was not the picture of a pleasant family evening.
Dan and Cat walked their horses around the house looking through all the windows as best they could. It was hard to know for sure, but all they could see were two soldiers in the house. Both were at the kitchen table. The second soldier was on the opposite side of the table and could only be seen through the living room window.
What to do? In whispered tones Cat and Dan weighed the options. They determined that they would do all they could to return to the ranch with antibiotics. To use pistols or rifles was the next decision. Rifles it was as they were both carrying AR-15s with sound suppressors.
It was a changed world. Prior to the nuclear strike just months ago, neither of them had ever pointed a gun at a man. Now it was just a matter of which gun.
Tying the bridle reins to the picket fence with slipknots, Dan took the point with Cat at his back. Ascending the wood steps of the porch, the boards creaked as they approached the door. With rifle at the ready, Dan tried the door knob. It was not locked and he pushed it open and walked into the dark parlor room. The hinges of the door creaked loudly as it swung open. The first soldier at the table turned his head and looked calmly into the dark room as if the approaching person was expected.
Dan and Cat stepped into the light of the kitchen with pointed guns and the men froze where they sat.
“Ma’am,” Dan said, “would you and your daughter mind stepping outside with my sister for a moment? I’ll keep these gentlemen accompanied here.
The women quickly exited the room and followed Cat outside.
Dan remained and his rifle was pointed at the head of the nearest man. The man opposite the table was also in the line of fire. Casually, Dan spoke again.
“I’ve been told that one .223 bullet can easily pass through two heads. I wonder if that’s true. What do you boys think?”
They didn’t answer.
Back out on the porch, the mother asked anxiously, “Cathy, what are you and your brother doing here?”
Kelly was the veterinarian Dad always used and the two families knew each other.
“Mrs. Kelly, what are those men doing in your home and where is your husband?”
“They’ve taken him and our friends to the prison. If we feed and house these men they promise to feed Kelly.”
“Mrs. Kelly, I’m so sorry. When will they let him out?”
“They promise that there will be trials followed by re-education but I don’t believe they will ever let him out.”
“You and your daughter must come with us.”
“I can’t. If I don’t feed these men they won’t feed Kelly, but please take my daughter. It is killing me what they are doing to her.”
Cat did not ask what that was. It was understood without explanation and it filled her with anger. She pressed Mrs. Kelly again, “You both must come. You can’t stay here.”
“I can’t, I won’t. I could never abandon my husband.”
Mrs. Kelly was determined in her decision so Cat moved to the issue of antibiotics. Using Cat’s flashlight, the woman led them to the basement of the house through an outside stairwell. In the basement was a fridge that was no longer running that contained vials of antibiotics. Taking a paper bag from the shelf, Mrs. Kelly put twelve vials into it leaving a half dozen still in the fridge. Cat gave the lady all the jars of vegetable oil.
“Ma’am,” Cat said, “I would hide this cooking oil and the remaining antibiotics. You know how valuable they are. If you change your mind, make your way to the ranch. We’ll make room for you there.”
Mrs. Kelly and Cat returned to the kitchen where no one had moved from the time they had left. Cat stepped up to Dan’s left ear and spoke quietly. Even in the dim light of the kerosene lamp, she could see the blood rise up in the face of her brother.
“Keep your gun on that man,” Dan said, pointing to the man across the table. Then he smashed the barrel of his rifle into the back of the head of the man nearest him. The man’s face slammed into the table and Dan stepped back and handed his rifle to Mrs. Kelly. The soldier was sitting, dazed from the blow, and Dan grabbed his hair. Yanking the man’s head back he hauled him to his feet. With a shove, the soldier stumbled into the living room.
The man turned to face Dan, wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand. It was unspoken but clear. This was going to be fist to fist. In a rage, Dan waded into the soldier who was bigger than himself. The soldier swung a roundabout right at Dan’s head and it connected. Dan did not back up, but stepped in, swinging his left elbow up hard it crashed into the man’s chin driving his head back. Dan’s right knee came up into the man’s groin. Making a horrid sound, the man folded forward only to have his face meet Dan’s other knee. Remarkably, the man remained on his feet and started making wild but ineffectual punches.
Cat watched in awe and astonishment as she witnessed a side of her peaceful brother that she had never seen. With furniture crashing around them, Dan tore into the man with a fury. Soon the man could withstand no more and crumpled to the floor in pain.
Drawing deep breaths and with clenched fist, Dan stepped back from the fallen man. Satisfied that the man would not rise to his feet, he walked back and took his rifle from Mrs. Kelly. The beaten man struggled to a sitting position on the floor.
Facing the men, Dan spoke, “Boys, you now work for me. Your job is to take care of Mrs. Kelly the way she wants to be taken care of. You are a guest in her house. Act like it. Do some dishes. See to it that her husband gets two m
eals a day.”
Speaking directly to the man sitting on the floor, “Let your commanding officer know that you will be more careful going down stairs.”
Then speaking to both men, Dan continued, “In ways that you will not be able to monitor, I will check in with Mrs. Kelly from time to time to see how you fellers are doing in your new job. I have a good memory. I will not forget your faces and do not think that moving to a new home will relieve you of your responsibility. If you fail, I will not kill you. That would be too merciful. I shall come some dark night as I have done this night. I shall castrate you. I shall cut off your nose and all your fingers. Then I shall leave you alive to be eaten by your own.”
As hardened criminals, they understood the difference between hollow threats and real promises. They knew they had just heard a promise.
Mrs. Kelly’s daughter had gathered a few items and was soon riding double behind Cat. Through the night, the brother and sister rode with the young girl in tow. The morning stars were giving way to a new day as they entered the safety of their father’s valley.
Chapter 25
ANN RAFFERTY
March 11th
Ann Rafferty knew that staying alive would require all her political savvy. To obtain food she needed force of arms. As mayor and under the authority of the Department of Homeland Security she had been gathering those that would follow her. Mostly they were ones who were in need of food and believed that only a collective effort overseen by a governing body could save them. Zackary Williams had made it clear that the food production of Long Valley was to be funneled to Kanab. Those that helped to seize the farms and operate them would have share in the food.
Zackary had sent one lieutenant with fifty men to Orderville while he had traveled to Page. As required, Ann had been active in making speeches and gathering citizens to the cause. It was easy to gather the scared and hungry. Those that had food and produced food were not so easy to sway. In fact not one farmer or rancher submitted to the laws. There was no middle ground. Everyone had gone to one camp or the other.
Only by Blood and Suffering: Regaining Lost Freedom Page 17
