Walking Into The Unknown

by Ginny Dye

  The day passed quickly as she and Janie treated close to fifty patients. They dispensed homeopathic remedies, handed out bottles of salve for lesions, burns and cuts, and wrapped wounds when it was needed. Much of their time was spent holding the hands of hopeless women who stared at their children with broken expressions. Carrie had learned enough Navajo to take care of immediate needs, but she didn’t have the words to give solace to these women. Of course, even if she knew Navajo, what could she possibly say?

  They had saved thousands of lives, but they had been too late for others. Dead bodies accumulated on the outskirts of the reservation.

  *****

  Carrie was slumped in her chair at the table. The long days in the blazing New Mexico sun sapped all her energy each day. Her only consolation was that all her team had the same depleted expression she had. Except for Matthew. “I don’t like you very much,” she grumbled.

  Matthew grinned. “You say the same thing every day.”

  “I mean it every day.”

  “So do the rest of us,” Janie assured him. “Though I have to still love you because you’re my husband, that does not mean I have to like you.”

  Matthew chuckled. “None of you seem to appreciate the fatigue of mental strain that comes from being a reporter and writer.”

  Carolyn rolled her eyes, her face creased with weariness. “I would be happy to trade places with you for a day.”

  Carrie peered at her, not wanting to express her alarm. Her older friend was showing the strain of the long days. It was hard on all of them to maintain the pace they were setting, but it surely must be harder for Carolyn. “Perhaps you should take a day off,” she suggested.

  Carolyn snorted. “Nonsense. I wouldn’t give up the joy of what we are doing for anything in the world. I’m fine until I see Mr. Bright Eyes over here when we get home.”

  “I could try to look more tired,” Matthew offered, his eyes dancing with fun. Not for long, though. His face sobered as he looked at all of them. “I wish I could be of more help.”

  Janie shook her head. “Thank you, but what you are doing is as important as what we are doing. We’re just giving you a hard time. We are keeping the Navajo alive, but what you are doing will play a part in getting them out of this horrible place. We are dealing with the short-term, but the long-term is even more important.”

  “Janie is right,” Carrie added. “I just wish something could change sooner.”

  “Well…” Matthew drew out the word and waited for their response.

  Janie glared at him. “Building suspense is not an effective strategy with exhausted people. It could get you killed.”

  Matthew chuckled again. “You’re right. I wanted to wait until you eat to tell all of you, but I might as well tell you now.”

  Carrie remembered what Toh Yah had pointed out earlier. “There was a wagon train that arrived this morning. Was it someone important?”

  Matthew raised a brow. “I would say he is important, but how you feel about him is probably dependent upon which side you supported during the war.”

  “No games,” Carrie begged. “I can barely sit at this table. My brain is not working well enough for verbal sparring.”

  “General Sherman arrived this morning,” Matthew revealed.

  It was Carrie’s turn to raise a brow. “I see.” She understood Matthew’s comment now. Though she had not believed in the Confederate stance that ignited the war, neither had she agreed with General Sherman’s utter destruction of Georgia. As she thought of all the horrible stories she had heard, and of all that had happened to Louisa and Perry, her fatigue sparked into anger. “Has he come to finish off the Navajo?” she demanded.

  Silence met her furious question. Carrie knew she was the only Southerner at the table, but surely the rest of them couldn’t have supported what that monster had done. As she met each of their eyes, she saw nothing but compassion. Slowly, her anger melted away into the same bone-aching fatigue she had felt before. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “It’s been a long day.”

  Randall reached out and covered her hand with his. “No reason to be sorry. There is a part of me that believes General Sherman had to do what he did in Georgia in order for the war to end, but there is another part of me that says his actions are a large part of what has spawned the KKK and other vigilante groups. When you take everything away from a people, and they have no hope to keep them moving forward, the consequences can be disastrous.”

  Another heavy silence fell on the room as they all contemplated the truth of his statement.

  Carrie took a deep breath and turned back to Matthew. “Why is General Sherman here?”

  A knock on the door stopped Matthew from answering. Nathan hauled himself up from his chair to fling the door open.

  Captain Marley stepped into the room. “All of you look exhausted,” he said sympathetically.

  Carrie nodded. “Excuse us if we don’t get up. Only Nathan has the energy to move.”

  “Don’t forget Mr. Bright Eyes,” Carolyn growled.

  “Excuse me?” Captain Marley asked, his lips twitching.

  “It’s a long story,” Carrie answered, and one she had no intention of going into. “What can we do for you, Captain?” She pointed toward the one remaining empty chair.

  Captain Marley settled down and stretched out his long legs while he pushed his dusty hat further back on his head. “General Sherman is here.”

  “So we hear,” Carrie replied. “Are you going to tell us why?”

  Matthew shrugged when Captain Marley looked at him. “I don’t know much more than they do. I don’t know if the rumors I’ve heard are even right. I would much prefer to hear whatever you have to tell us.”

  Captain Marley nodded. “It’s a very long, convoluted story so I’ll give you the brief version. All the problems at Bosque Redondo, and all the reports they have received, convinced the government that the military was doing a very poor job of handling the situation here.”

  Randall grunted but said nothing else.

  “Last fall, Bosque Redondo was turned over to the Department of the Interior.”

  “I can hardly see they are doing a better job than the military,” Carrie observed in a tight voice.

  Captain Marley scowled. “Just like anything in our government, the realities of bureaucracy have made the transition quite difficult. There was some progress made last summer, though. A Peace Commission was organized to carry out the wishes of Congress. It was formed to handle the entire Indian problem throughout the country, not just the Navajo. They came together in an attempt to revolutionize the Indian Service and bring an end to the fighting.”

  Carrie remained silent, but she had seen nothing that made her believe that had happened.

  Captain Marley’s expression said he understood what she was feeling. “General Sherman is part of that Peace Commission.”

  Carrie’s eyes narrowed, but she kept her lips clamped shut. How could the man who had ordered Georgia destroyed possibly be part of a Peace Commission?

  “The Peace Commission was far more forthright than I believed it would be,” Captain Marley continued. “It reported rampant corruption within the service, and recommended massive changes throughout the structure and policies. They actually pushed forward policies that would improve things, but I don’t have time to go into all that.” He met Carrie’s eyes. “The other thing they did was advocate for a treaty with the Navajo.”

  Carrie straightened. “What does that mean?” she asked cautiously.

  Captain Marley shrugged. “I wish I could tell you. General Sherman arrived with Colonel Samuel Tappan.”

  Matthew smiled. “Tappan is a good man.”

  “He is,” Captain Marley agreed. “He was very active in freeing the slaves, and served in the army during the war. He has been fighting for Indian rights for years, and last year he and his wife adopted a Cherokee orphan girl.”

  “He is also a journalist,” Matthew revealed. “I’ve read man
y of his articles. He thinks and communicates intelligently and clearly.”

  Carrie felt hope for the first time. “What do you believe is going to happen?”

  Captain Marley shrugged again. “I’ve learned not to have too many expectations,” he said honestly. “The reports being sent back have convinced the Peace Commission that Bosque Redondo is a failed venture, but I believe General Sherman thinks they should be moved up into Indian Territory in Oklahoma.”

  Carrie scowled. “They want to go home.”

  “So does every tribe,” Captain Marley reminded her. “You and I both want the same thing, but for now I will settle for the Navajo being removed from this death hole.”

  Carrie knew he was right. “How long will Sherman and Tappan be here?”

  “I don’t know. They’ve been busy all day, observing conditions on the reservation.”

  “Surely they will see how desperate the Navajo are,” Janie said.

  “I believe they already know that,” Captain Marley replied, “and the government has already decided Bosque Redondo is too expensive to continue. The question that remains, however, is what should be done with the people here.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” Carrie doubted they could have any impact on the outcome, but she had to ask.

  “Just keep as many of the Navajo alive as you can,” Captain Marley responded. “My hope is that they will be moved out of here before the Pecos River stops flowing. Wherever they go will be better than here.”

  “You do realize that many of the Navajo could not endure another long march,” Carrie replied. “No matter where they go, if they have to walk there, many of them will die.”

  “I know,” Captain Marley said. “I’ve already put in a request to be able to accompany them wherever they are going, and have requested enough wagons to transport at least the elderly and the sick.”

  Carrie smiled slightly. “You are a good man, Captain.”

  Captain Marley nodded his thanks but did not return her smile. “Let’s hope we get them out of here in time. General Sherman is going to be meeting with Navajo leaders during the next few days.” He turned to Matthew. “You have been invited to join them.”

  Matthew’s eyes widened with disbelief.

  “Evidently, General Sherman knows who you are and is familiar with your work. When he found out you were here, he asked if you would join them to document the proceedings.”

  Matthew hesitated. “And to also write articles for the newspaper?”

  Captain Marley smiled. “Yes. The general already knew you would not do it without that freedom.”

  “Then I accept with gladness,” Matthew said immediately. “When can I join them?”

  Captain Marley pulled out his gold pocket watch. “The next meeting starts in twenty minutes.”

  Matthew gulped some water and then stood. “I’ll gather my supplies right away.”

  Carrie shook her head. “I should have been a journalist,” she complained. “You get to have all the fun.”

  “Like the riots in Memphis and New Orleans?” Janie asked. “Like the explosion on the Sultana, or covering the wreck of the New York Express?”

  “You make a very valid point,” Carrie agreed. She smiled up at Matthew. “We’ll be waiting for your thorough report on what we are missing. I’m sorry you’re going to miss dinner.”

  Everyone laughed as Matthew glared at her as he followed Captain Marley from their quarters.

  *****

  Matthew claimed a chair in the back of the meeting room and settled in to watch the proceedings. He was surprised General Sherman had asked for him to attend. No matter what he had told Captain Marley, if the general really knew who Matthew was, and what his articles communicated, he doubted he would have him there. While Matthew had covered Sherman’s success in Georgia, he had also questioned the long-term consequences of the general’s scorched earth campaign that had so successfully brought the South to its knees. He knew Sherman had been committed to doing whatever it took to end the war, even if it meant destroying his enemy. In one of his articles, he had copied a portion of a letter Sherman had given to the mayor of Atlanta after the city had fallen. The mayor pled for him not to evacuate the city because of all the old and ill residents, but Sherman had been unmovable. His letter had been clear.

  You cannot qualify war in harsher terms than I will. War is cruelty, and you cannot refine it; and those who brought war into our country deserve all the curses and maledictions a people can pour out. I know I had no hand in making this war, and I know I will make more sacrifices today than any of you to secure peace. But you cannot have peace and a division of our country. If the United States submits to a division now, it will not stop, but will go on until we reap the fate of Mexico, which is eternal war… I want peace, and believe it can only be reached through union and war, and I will ever conduct war with a view to perfect and early success. But, my dear sirs, when peace does come, you may call on me for anything. Then will I share with you the last cracker, and watch with you to shield your homes and families against danger from every quarter.

  Matthew stiffened to attention as a group of men entered the room. General Sherman strode in first. His slim posture was ramrod straight; his hawkish eyes were as piercing as ever beneath his receding dark hair that topped a full beard. Matthew’s eyes sharpened as another man followed the general. He had never met Samuel Tappan, but somehow Matthew knew it was him. He was at least a decade younger than the forty-eight-year-old general, but he exuded the same strong confidence. Thick, wavy dark hair topped a moustache and goatee, but it was the compassion in his dark eyes that struck Matthew the most.

  Matthew wondered if it was possible for these two men to come to a consensual decision. Tappan was known to be an Indian rights activist. Sherman’s negative views on Indians were often strongly expressed. Matthew was certain the general would not hesitate to use the same scorched earth tactics he had displayed in Georgia if he believed it would eliminate Indian hostilities. He also reluctantly believed Sherman’s most important agenda was peace. While he disagreed with his means of attaining it, and he questioned the long-term results achieved by Sherman’s methods, he also realized the achievement of peace was not an easy goal. There were no simple answers.

  “That was a heavy sigh,” Captain Marley said as he settled into the chair beside him. “I’m here to identify everyone for you.”

  “Thanks,” Matthew replied.

  “The sigh?”

  Matthew couldn’t help the sigh that escaped him again. “I wish there were easy answers to peace, and I fear there are none,” he admitted. He eyed the men at the front of the room. “Do Sherman and Tappan actually work together?”

  “They make the appearance of it,” Captain Marley said. “This is a tricky situation. Sherman wants to relocate the Navajo further east into the Indian Territory. Tappan seems to be in favor of them staying in the West.”

  Matthew eyed the group of Navajo clustered on the other side of the room. “And the chiefs?”

  “They want only to be returned to their homeland, though I believe they will agree to anything that will bring them freedom and restore a degree of dignity. I’ve never seen a people so completely demoralized and beaten.”

  “Hurrah for America,” Matthew said bitterly.

  Captain Marley nodded. “Government representatives have met with the chiefs before. Every time they have been told that the Navajo want only to return to their homeland. The representatives listen, but obviously nothing has been done.”

  “And you think something will happen now?”

  “It has to. The government can no longer afford to support Bosque Redondo.”

  Matthew narrowed his eyes. “They could just exterminate them,” he said sarcastically. “Isn’t that part of their plan?”

  “Some of them, certainly,” Captain Marley agreed reluctantly. “But not everyone feels that way, Matthew, and now that the war is over there is more public attention on the Indi
ans. They know they can’t get away with it.”

  “Sherman may regret having me at these meetings,” Matthew said darkly. “I promise all of America will know what goes on here in the next days and weeks.”

  “I agree with you, but I suggest you keep it to yourself for now.”

  Matthew smiled slightly. “Good advice.”

  Captain Marley nodded his head toward one of the chiefs. “That is Barboncito.”

  Matthew eyed the slender man with the air of authority. “Tell me more about him.”

  “He is revered as a spiritual leader. He argued hard for peace and negotiated several treaties, but when Kit Carson invaded their homeland, he reluctantly became a warrior. He was one of the first to surrender, but it didn’t take him long to understand the reality of what would happen here. Almost three years ago, he escaped with five hundred other Navajo. He was hunted by New Mexican militia units, but he avoided capture for years.”

  “What is he doing here?” Matthew asked.

  “He was captured early this spring,” Captain Marley revealed. “Barboncito and some of the other chiefs were taken to Washington, DC to meet with President Johnson in April. He told everyone who would listen that the Navajo just want to go back to their homeland. President Johnson wouldn’t concede to that, but he agreed to send some of the Peace Commission here. The chiefs have been back a few weeks. Barboncito is also a medicine man, so he and the other medicine men have been holding ceremonies in preparation.”

  Matthew nodded, watching all the men closely. He didn’t know if Sherman and Tappan were aware they held an entire people’s existence in their hands, but he was quite sure Barboncito and the other chiefs did.

  “Barboncito has been chosen to speak tonight,” Captain Marley continued. “General Sherman is justifiably horrified by what he has seen today during his tour. He said he doesn’t need to see anymore, and he wonders how anybody or anything can live here. Many of the medicine men held a ceremony today, blessing Barboncito and asking that his words be given power to persuade General Sherman.”