by Ginny Dye
Todd gazed off into the distance for several moments before he replied. “I’ve asked myself the same question many times. The Navajo were a wealthy, comfortable people before the army destroyed their homeland. They surrendered because they were afraid they could not survive the winter, and because the army was intent on destroying any attempts they made to farm or raise stock. They are coming home in summer so at least they will have time to put in some food crops before winter, but I guess the most important thing is that they have learned what starvation and deprivation truly are. Whatever they have to face when they return home will be far better than what they experienced at Bosque Redondo.”
“So it will still be horrible? Just not as horrible?” Carrie demanded in an outraged voice. She struggled to control her fury.
Todd cocked his head in thought. “I suppose that is the best way to put it,” he said honestly. “But,” he said, “I have talked to many of the men, including Chooli’s father. They already know it is going to be hard, but they are determined to build a new life. They told me they will never forget the horror of the last five years, but they are not going to let it define their future.”
Carrie lapsed into silence as she let his words sink into her heart. They will never forget the horror of the last five years, but they are not going to let it define their future.
The sun chose that moment to slip beneath the horizon completely. She watched as the red rocks lost their glow, reverting to the sandstone cliffs that had come to seem somewhat commonplace during the day. Stars began to wink their way onto the cobalt canvas that would soon deepen into the darkest black she had ever seen. She took deep breaths as she watched the quiet activities of the camp surrounding her. As she thought about the future…about the reason she had come on the wagon train…she knew she had been given her answer.
They will never forget the horror of the last five years, but they are not going to let it define their future.
She would not let the horrors of the last years define her future, either. She would not let the years of the war define her future. She would not let Robert and Bridget’s deaths define her future. “Thank you,” she said softly. She slipped her hand into the crook of Todd’s arm and watched the end of another day.
Tomorrow, they would cross the Rio Grande.
*****
Carrie could feel the fear pulsing through the Navajo as the wagon train traveled down into the Albuquerque Basin toward the Rio Grande River. She watched as they caught sight of the great river, their eyes growing wide with terror. Frustration filled her because she was incapable of talking to them to understand why.
The wagons continued moving forward, but the people walking nearly came to a standstill when they realized where they were.
“What is going on?” Janie demanded. “These people are scared to death.”
“I know,” Carrie replied, “but I have no idea why.”
Chooli’s father was the first to give her a glimmer of understanding. He walked forward to stand beside her on the bluffs overlooking the river. His eyes were filled with sadness and dread.
“What is wrong?” Carrie asked, praying he would understand her simple question.
“Much death,” he responded. “Many die.”
Carrie took a deep breath. What had happened here? She scanned the masses of people for someone who could interpret for her. Finally, she saw Todd making his way toward them.
He rode up to Chooli’s father and dismounted. “Talk to me, please.” His face tightened into a grim mask as he listened. He turned to Carrie when Chooli’s father had finished speaking. “Many of the Navajo died in the Rio Grande on the march to Bosque Redondo. They were forced into the river by soldiers on horseback and many washed away and drowned. Some of the women knew they could not cross so they sacrificed themselves and their babies, and simply let the river wash them away.”
Carrie imagined the terror the people must have felt then. Of course they would feel the same way now.
“The surviving Navajo pleaded with the soldiers to let them cut down tall cottonwood trees so they could hold the branches as they crossed,” Todd continued, “but many of them still drowned.”
Carrie looked at the thousands of people who had every reason in the world to expect that they had been brought this far only to die in the river. “How are they getting the people across now?”
“On ferries,” Todd answered.
“That will take days!”
“Yes, but it is the only way to do it safely.”
Carrie thought quickly. “You have to send messengers to everyone to let them know. They will not cross the river until they are reassured that everything is all right. How many interpreters are there?”
“Ten.”
Carrie grimaced but knew what had to happen. “All the interpreters should go to the groups in the front. They have to explain that no one will be forced to swim across the river, and that they are being ferried across on barges instead. They have to know there is no danger.”
“You’re right,” Todd replied. “If I had known about this, I could have explained the situation in the last weeks.”
“There’s no sense in blaming yourself,” Carrie said. “So far we have been lucky that there have been no severe thunderstorms, but Shima tells me they will surely come soon. We have to get everyone over that river before they come.”
Captain Marley rode up, his face filled with concern. “What is going on?”
Todd explained it quickly.
“We should have been told,” Captain Marley snapped.
“I’m sure no one wanted to confess to murdering Navajo,” Carrie retorted. She calmed herself quickly and outlined the plan she and Todd had devised.
Captain Marley listened closely. “Are you sure you don’t want to lead this wagon train?” he asked when she was done.
“No, thank you,” Carrie assured him, still too angry to appreciate the humor. “I just want to get these people across that river without anyone dying.”
Captain Marley hesitated. “Even with ferries, I cannot guarantee that. Especially with seven thousand people and hundreds of wagons.”
Carrie took a deep breath. “I believe in you, Captain,” she said. Then she nodded to Todd. “I suggest you start talking.”
Todd managed a smile before he turned away, riding at a gallop toward the front of the line. It was almost an hour before the line started to move again, and it seemed only to inch forward in spurts, but at least they were making progress.
That night, Carrie watched the glow of campfires on the other side of the river. As predicted, it was going to take days for them to cross the Rio Grande.
*****
Matthew pulled Janie close to his side, watching as a meteor streaked across the sky, seemingly cutting the Milky Way in half. He never tired of watching the night sky here. He thought it had been spectacular on the plantation, far away from all city lights, but in the mountains at six thousand feet, it seemed as if he could reach up and pluck the glimmering orbs from the sky. The heat had been blistering that day, but the cooler temperatures night brought to the desert made the long days bearable.
“You love it out here, don’t you?” Janie murmured.
“I do,” Matthew admitted. “Now that the Rio Grande is behind us, and we didn’t lose a single life, I am able to relax again. Chooli’s grandfather told me we are only a few days away from the Navajo Sacred Lands. Being here…experiencing it for myself? I can understand why the Navajo felt their souls had been ripped from them when they were forced to leave.”
“What do you love the most?”
Matthew considered the question. “That’s a hard one to answer,” he finally replied. “I love the mountains. I love the plains with waving green grass. I love the red rocks that seem to swirl with stories and mystery. I love the clear waters of the lakes we pass.” He paused for a long moment as the sky once more pulled him into its depths. “I guess, though, that I would have to say I love the quiet the
most. It reminds me of the West Virginia mountains when I was a boy. Harold and I would spend days, sometimes weeks, camping out there. We would hunt our own food and forage berries. I loved it because there was nothing to distract me from my thoughts.”
“I bet you were writing books in your head, even back then,” Janie said as she snuggled closer.
“I was,” Matthew admitted. “I have learned to love things about the city, but my heart feels at home when it is quiet like this.” The whole camp had bedded down for the night. The only sounds were the coyotes singing in the distance, and the occasional hoot of an owl.
Matthew was content to let the silence wrap around them for a while longer, and then he tipped Janie’s face up so he could look into her eyes. There was just enough glow remaining from the fireplace to make her features distinguishable. “How are you?” he asked. There had been so few moments for deep conversation, especially once they had arrived at Bosque Redondo. He worried almost every day that the plight of the Navajo had done nothing but intensify her feelings of trauma after the train wreck.
Janie’s smile was genuine. “I’m good.”
Matthew gazed at her, searching her face for any attempt to hide her feelings.
“It’s true, my love,” Janie insisted. “I’m doing well. I’m happy to be here, and I know we have saved so many lives.”
“That’s true, but hasn’t it been hard to deal with so much trauma?” Matthew asked carefully. He didn’t want to create problems where there weren’t any, but neither did he want to avoid the real issues that had brought them on this wagon train.
“It’s certainly been hard,” Janie admitted, “but Carrie told me something a few days ago that put it all into perspective. It was something Todd told her the night before we crossed the Rio Grande.”
Matthew waited for his wife to continue. He loved the way she thought through everything before she spoke.
“Carrie asked Todd how the Navajo were going to survive returning to their homeland after its destruction had driven them out. She wanted to know how they were going to rebuild, and how they would survive.”
Matthew had been wondering the same thing. He certainly understood why they wanted to return home, but how would they live there once they arrived?
“Todd told her that they were determined to put the past behind them. He told her they would never forget the horror of the last five years, but that they are not going to let it define their future.”
Janie stopped speaking, but her words penetrated Matthew’s heart. They will never forget the horror of the last five years, but they are not going to let it define their future. Matthew saw the truth he had denied for months. He would have told anyone that the purpose of the wagon train expedition had been to give Janie a chance to heal from her trauma. Suddenly he realized it was as much for him as it was for her.
“I won’t let anything that has happened in the past define my future either, Matthew.” Janie’s voice was both firm and peaceful.
Matthew’s heart swelled with love for his wife, expanding a little more as he heard the courage in her words. “I feel the same way,” he said, lowering his mouth to claim her lips in a long kiss. When he lifted his head, his voice was gruff with emotion. “I thought I was coming on this trip for you, but the Navajo have taught me as much as they have taught you. I’m not going to let anything in my past define my future. Nor will I let it define our future.”
“That’s good. Especially since…” Janie’s voice trailed off as she lifted her face for another kiss.
Matthew obliged her before holding her back so he could look at her face. “Especially since what?”
“Well,” Janie teased, “I wouldn’t want our children to be impacted by things from our past.”
Matthew stared at her, his heart racing. He finally found words. “Are you telling me… we’re going to be parents?”
“I do believe that is the correct term.”
Matthew felt a smile spreading on his face. “We’re going to have a baby?”
“I believe that is the only way to become parents,” Janie answered, a grin bursting forth on her face before she grabbed him into a tight embrace. “We’re going to have a baby!”
“Here? On the wagon train?” Matthew knew it was a ridiculous question as soon as it escaped his lips.
Janie laughed softly. “No, silly man. I suspect our child will be born next January or February. I just realized I’m pregnant.”
“About time.”
Matthew jumped as Carrie’s voice sounded above their heads. She was looking down at them from the wagon. He turned back to Janie. “You told Carrie first?” He tried to hide the hurt in his voice.
“Of course not,” Carrie retorted. “But don’t you think I know how to tell when a woman is pregnant? I may have missed the signs of my own pregnancy, but I never miss the signs of someone else’s!”
Janie laughed with delight. “I’m going to be a mother!”
Matthew’s heart was pounding with happiness, but he also wondered how Carrie would handle the news after losing Bridget. He heard nothing but happiness in her voice when she answered, however.
“You’ll be the best mother in the world,” Carrie said joyfully. “And, you, Matthew, will be the best father possible.” She smiled down at them for a moment. “And now I’m going back to sleep.”
Matthew settled back against the wagon wheel, tucking Janie even closer to him. “It was Fort Larned,” he finally muttered.
“That’s what I figure,” Janie agreed. “It’s the only time we were alone together during the three months of the wagon train. Evidently wagon train air did the trick for us.”
Matthew chuckled. “You know I’m going to worry about you even more now.”
Janie shifted enough to look up at him. “Just figure out a way to make me oatmeal cookies. I find I am craving them.”
“That could be rather difficult on a wagon train.”
“Yes,” Janie agreed. “That’s what will make it so spectacular.”
“You having our baby is quite spectacular enough.” Matthew dipped his head again, smiling against her lips when a wolf howl split the night.
*****
Carrie was in the wagon when she heard the sound begin to swell around her. At first she couldn’t identify it, but as she listened, she knew it wasn’t a sound of sorrow. She closed her journal and lowered the wick on the oil lantern that provided light for her to write in the early morning darkness. The night before, they had traveled long after the sun went down—the first time they had done so during their journey. The full moon, turning the night into day, had lit the way. She had wanted to ask Captain Marley why, but she had not seen him for a couple days. While it was still dark, Chooli’s family had left the wagon without explanation. Engrossed in her writing, Carrie had hardly noticed.
“What is going on?” Melissa mumbled in a sleepy voice.
“They sound happy,” Carolyn offered with a yawn.
“They do,” Carrie agreed. She tucked her journal away and opened the back flap of the wagon to a glorious dawn. Purple and gold rays shot through the dark blue, dancing off the rocks surrounding them. As the sun crept closer to the horizon the swell of noise increased.
Tsoodził.
Tsoodził.
Tsoodził.
The chant, mixed with cries of joy, rose to meet the rays of the sun. Curious, Carrie climbed down from the wagon and turned in the direction everyone was staring.
And she saw it.
Tsoodził: Mt. Taylor. One of the four Navajo Sacred Mountains that marked the southern boundary of their homeland. The Americans named it Mt. Taylor in 1849 in honor of President Zachary Taylor, but that meant nothing to the Navajo.
Tsoodził.
Tsoodził.
Carrie smiled as she watched young children, probably too young to even remember the mountain, dance with joy as their parents raised their hands in thanksgiving. Tears flowed freely as shouts rang from the people’s throats.<
br />
The Navajo were home.
There were still miles to travel before they would actually be in their homeland, but their mountain now beckoned them forward. It was proof the Americans were going to keep their promise.
“The peak is more than eleven thousand feet.”
Carrie looked up and found Captain Marley at her side. “Look how happy they are,” she said in a husky voice.
“They’ve been through a lot,” Captain Marley said, his eyes locked on the Indians as they rejoiced. “Most of them believed they would never see home again.”
“What now?” Carrie asked.
“Some will disperse because they don’t care about what the army has promised them—they simply want to go back to the land they were driven from. I suspect they will return for the sheep when the army delivers them, but they will not wait.” He paused as he watched the people. “Others, those who have become dependent on the government despite the suffering and hardships, will claim the sanctuary of Fort Defiance. They will wait until the sheep and corn have been delivered.”
“Do you believe that is bad?” Carrie asked curiously.
Captain Marley hesitated. “General Sherman signed the treaty less than two months ago. The government moves slowly. The sheep will come, but I won’t be surprised if the Navajo wait a year before they receive them. If thousands of Navajo descend on Fort Defiance, the conditions there will be very similar to Bosque Redondo.”
“So they continue to suffer?” Carrie asked, her anger cutting through the joy surrounding her. As she watched the dancing people, her anger grew. “When does it end?”
“They are free, Carrie,” Captain Marley said. “I realize it is not ideal…”
“Not ideal?” Carrie retorted. “They have the choice to risk death in the mountains this winter or to die at Fort Defiance, and you say that is not ideal?” Her heart pounded. “It sounds like murder to me.”
“Carrie.”
Carrie started when she felt Shima’s hand on her arm and heard her musical voice speak her name. She turned to Chooli’s mother, once more ashamed of what her government was doing to these proud, wonderful people.
