Sarah's glare dissolved as she saw the sincerity in the old man's eyes. "Tell us about your Sawbaw," she asked. "Where did he learn to speak English so well?"
Seated beside his wife at the table, Henry pushed his chair back and stood up. "I've heard all this before. I'm going to the church and prepare for tonight's prayer service." He nodded to Bak and strode down the steps.
Joshua took Henry's place at the table as the old man began speaking.
"Mrs. Brown, the Chindit is Chinese, Cantonese Chinese.
He was a lieutenant in the Chinese National Army and came to Burma with his unit to help force out the Japanese during the war. His unit fought alongside the mountain Shan in the Ri region. It was then I first met him. He was a very brave man in battle and earned the respect of the Shan. For his courage we gave him the name `Chindit, The Lion.' " After the war the Chindit returned to China, but things turned very bad when the communists took over.
"What was left of the National Army was forced to retreat across the border into our country. The Chindit was then a captain. The Shan welcomed him and his men and helped build their camps. Your country's secret intelligence, I think you call it CIA, provided the Chindit with weapons and money to go back to China to foster a rebellion. The Chindit's army marched into China six months later, but the communists already had their stranglehold on the people.
The Chindit was again forced to retreat to our country and wait for another day. That day never came, Mrs. Brown, for he fell in love with this country and our people. He married Stephen's mother and became a colonel in the Shan Army.
His successes against the government forces could not be counted on two hands; the people thought of him as their protector and he was made a general in charge of the defense of the Ri.
"Some ten years ago the Shan government leaders were assassinated by the junta and the Shan resistance crumbled except for a few regions like the Ri. The Burmese government has been trying to catch the Chindit ever since. They have failed, Mrs. Brown, because he is truly a lion, who has more cunning and courage than any man I know. But sadly the price has been very high. Shea, Stephen's Shan mother, bore the Chindit three sons. The first was killed by the Wa when he was Stephen's age, and the second was killed by a government artillery round. Shea blamed the Chindit for the deaths of her sons since he had been away fighting. The losses caused a sickness within her. A month ago, knowing she was dying, she made the Chindit promise her last son would not follow in the ways of the Chindit. A devout Christian, she wanted Stephen to become a pastor and help her people."
Sarah lowered her eyes. "It must have been very hard for your Sawbaw to give up Stephen. But as a mother I can understand his mother's feelings."
Bak shifted in his seat and spoke while gazing at the northern mountains. "You asked me before about the Chindit's English. His family was Christian and sent him to the English missionary school in Canton."
"The Chindit is a Christian?" Sarah asked with hope in her voice.
Bak motioned toward the distant mountains. "He worships the Ri and its people, Mrs. Brown. Your god and the gods of the Shan and even Buddha are respected by him, but his church, Mrs. Brown, is those mountains."
Sarah leaned back in her chair and looked at the old man.
"And you, Bo Bak. What does it mean to be a Master Horseman?"
"You see, Mrs. Brown, the title 'Horseman' goes back in our history for centuries. The Shan ruled Burma many years ago, and the Horsemen were the Shan king's knights. Our Shan Army brought back the old tradition and selected the best one hundred fighters in the army to be trained as Horsemen. I was fortunate enough to be selected for the training as well as the Chindit. The one hundred Horsemen were given assignments to the Shan villages with the duty of protecting the people and the land."
Bak's eyes became distant and his voice became more reflective. "When our Shan government leaders were assassinated by the junta, our army and government crumbled-but not the Horsemen. They would not surrender to the junta.
The Horsemen joined with the Chindit. You saw them today.
We, the Horsemen, are sworn to protect the Chindit and the Ri with our lives. The Ri is everything to us, for it is all that remains of what was. It is our last hope. The cost for us has been high; there are only thirty-one of us left. Many Horsemen have died in battle, or have grown too old, like me. And the young men don't care about the old ways. They are impatient and want to learn only about the modern weapons."
"The Chindit has only thirty men in his army?" asked Sarah incredulously.
"Oh no, Mrs. Brown," Bak said with a smile. "The Chindit has more than six thousand soldiers, but they are in outposts throughout the Ri protecting the mountain passes and roads. The Chindit also has hundreds of spies. He knows everything, Mrs. Brown. He knows beforehand when and where the junta plans to attack, and more important, he knows who are his enemies and who are his true friends."
Bak looked deeply into Sarah's eyes. "Mrs. Brown, talk to your husband. The Chindit's warning about the Wa was true.
I will train ten of your parish men as a militia for the protection of the village. Trained men properly armed will persuade the Wa and any bandits not to attack Shaduzup. Without the militia you will be at their mercy."
Reaching out, Sarah patted the old man's hand. "I will talk to him, Bo Bak, but I can't promise anything."
Bak held Sarah's gaze as if reading her thoughts before slowly nodding. He then stood and pushed back his chair. "I will be camped on the plateau above the river, Mrs. Brown.
If the pastor decides to give me men, I will train them there."
Sarah motioned toward the dormitory. "And Stephen?
What do you suggest we do?"
Bak walked down the porch steps toward his pony. Grasping the reins, he looked over his shoulder at Sarah. "Time, Mrs. Brown. It takes time for the wounds of the heart to heal." He put his foot in the stirrup and swung easily up into the saddle. Bowing his head toward Sarah and giving Joshua a wink, he headed his shaggy horse toward the river.
Joshua stood and took his mother's hand. "I like the Horseman, Mom; he's really neat. And so is Stephen's father.
You should have seen him gallop his horse toward me. He was like-like a king."
Sarah squeezed her son's hand as she gazed toward the northern mountains. "He is a king, a warrior-king like David, with great power." Her voice softened to almost a whisper as she looked into her son's eyes. "But right now I believe he wishes he were me, holding his son's hand."
Chapter 3.
"Greetings and blessings, Master Horseman," Joshua said as he approached the old man.
"No!" Bak looked up from the rifle he was cleaning. "You wait until I-acknowledge your presence, and look me in the eyes as you offer the greeting. It is a sign to a Shan that you are sincere and honest. Now back up and do it again."
After three days of visiting the old man at his camp, Joshua was used to his ways. Joshua backed up several steps before walking forward again. He came to a halt and waited until Bak slowly raised his eyes toward him. "Greetings and blessings, Master Horseman," Joshua said tentatively.
"Greetings and blessings, little Sao," Bak responded kindly. "How is Stephen today?"
"He's still sad," Joshua said, "and won't talk to anybody.
He just sits up there in his room looking out the window."
"The sadness will pass," Bak said, setting down the rifle.
"Go back and tell him I need his assistance in the training of the militia."
"Bu ... but you don't have any men to train!"
The old man brushed back his moustache with a gnarled finger. "Aren't I teaching you how to ride the ponies?"
Joshua beamed. "I'm in the militia?"
"You are until the pastor gives me men. Now go, fetch Stephen. He has mourned enough. It is time for learning."
Joshua walked into the room without knocking, knowing that Stephen would not answer. The dark-haired boy was at the window looking toward the norther
n mountains, waiting.
Joining Stephen, Joshua reached out and patted the other boy's shoulder. "I don't care whether you talk. It's okay.
Some of the other kids talk too much. I understand why ya don't wanna talk. My dad left me too. 'Course, I never saw my dad; he died in a war somewhere but I sometimes blame him for dyin'. I guess that don't make much sense, but-"
Stephen interrupted, "Why did you not run like the others when my father and his Horsemen rode toward the village?"
Joshua shrugged. "I dunno. I think I knew he wouldn't hurt me."
Stephen pushed Joshua's hand off his shoulder. "If my father had been 'a bandit, you would be dead and your body would be food for worms."
Again Joshua shrugged. "But he's not a bandit and I'm here."
"Fool," Stephen said.
Joshua turned around and walked for the door. "I came to tell you the Horseman wants you," he said, speaking over his shoulder. "He said it was time for you to stop mourning."
Joshua slowed at the doorway. "I think the Horseman is wrong. You like to be sad." He closed the door and strode down the hall.
"The pony has a mind! Yank back on the reins and show him you have one!" Bo Bak bellowed.
Joshua pulled the reins back but the obstinate pony kept heading for the lettuce field.
"Yank back on the reins!"
Joshua yanked back hard. The pony reared back on its hind legs and tumbled the young rider to the ground.
Bak slowly shook his head and sighed.
"Greetings and blessings, Teacher."
Bak turned to face the dark-haired boy who had walked up behind him. "Greetings and blessings, Sao. It is good to gaze upon you again."
"And I am happy to see you," said Stephen as he took the reins from Bak's hand and swung up on the Horseman's pony. "Is the white Sao your only 'militia'?"
"Until the pastor gives me men. The boy has heart, but he doesn't understand the ponies."
Stephen motioned toward the distant boy, who was picking himself up from the dirt. "It appears you need some help."
Joshua was mumbling to himself as he walked with a slight limp toward the pony, which was munching lettuce in the middle of the field.
Stephen frowned as he rode up beside the blond boy. "I see that you are not a cowboy. I thought all Americans were cowboys."
Joshua kept walking, not showing his surprise at Stephen's presence. "Nope, I'm not a cowboy. I'd never been on a horse before yesterday, but I'm gonna ride that devil before the day is through. He will go where I wanna go."
Stephen reined his pony to a halt. "Then you have learned the first lesson. You must have a stronger will than the beast.
These are Yunnan ponies from China. My father says they are the best mountain ponies in the world because they are so mean and strong. They don't understand kindness, little Sao, but they do understand a good kick."
Joshua mumbled a sarcastic "thanks" as he plodded on.
Stephen watched as Joshua took the reins of his pony and swung himself up into the saddle.
"Keep your feet in the stirrups," instructed Stephen, "and press your knees against him tightly. Keep a good grip on the reins. ... Now rein him around. Good. Now a little kick in the flanks ... Very good. You see, a kick works with him.
He will respect you for it."
An elated smile covered Joshua's face as he headed the pony toward Stephen. "I'm doing it! Look! I'm doing-"
The pony suddenly reared back on its hind legs, pawing the air with its front hooves. Joshua was still in the saddle, but his smile had turned into a terror-stricken grimace. He dropped the reins and grabbed the saddle horn for a better hold. The pony reared again and came down in a dead run.
Stephen sighed as he watched the horse head for the tree line with its bouncing rider. Giving his own horse a kick, Stephen headed the animal after them.
It was like twilight under the canopy of trees as Stephen reined his pony to a halt, and listened. It took only a moment within the quiet before he heard crashing and hoof beats off to his right. Sighing again, Stephen reined his horse toward the sound. He had traveled only twenty yards when directly in front of him the runaway broke through a green wall of vines and headed toward him. Still holding on, Joshua looked as if he had been flayed with a whip. His shirt was in tatters and his face, chest, and arms were covered in bloody scratches.
Stephen had no time to do anything but shut his eyes and cringe before the impact. The collision bowled Stephen and his horse over. Stunned by the blow, the runaway home collapsed to its front knees, and its bloody rider leapt to the ground.
Lying on the moss-covered forest floor, Stephen slowly raised his aching head and blinked to try and clear his double vision. His eyes focused and he saw a hand in front of his face.
Joshua smirked as he held his hand out to help Stephen up.
"I see you're no cowboy either."
"Fool!" Stephen yelled angrily, slapping Joshua's hand away. He tried to get to his feet, but Joshua put his foot on the boy's chest and pushed him back to the ground.
Leaning over, dripping blood into Stephen's face, Joshua spoke menacingly. "Looky here. You've called me that twice and it ain't nice. I'm standin' up and you're layin' on the ground, so who's the fool?"
Stephen glared up at the boy. "You were stupid to stay, on the pony when he ran for the trees. The ponies are smart and know the branches will knock you off."
"He didn't knock me off. He tried, but he didn't. I beat him."
"Beat him?"
"Yeah, at his own game. I won"-Joshua backed up and motioned to the still-stunned horse-"and he lost."
Stephen got up, and slowly the corners of his lips turned upward. "You are a fool, Joshua Hawkins, but a likable one.
My father was right-you have a Horseman's heart."
Joshua grinned as he saw Stephen smile for the first time, and he stepped closer, offering his hand. "Friends, then?"
Stephen slapped his hand on Joshua's right shoulder. "We Shan do this, not shake hands. It is a sign of trust and comradeship."
Joshua slapped his hand on Stepheb's shoulder. "Good.
Now you get to explain to my mom how I got all scratched up and tore my good shirt."
Stephen laughed and shook his head. "Not even my father could help you with your mother. She is what we call a futaa-a little storm. You must face her wrath on your own, my new friend."
Joshua shrugged and turned to face his horse, which had just got back up to its feet. Taking a step forward, Joshua slapped the animal's forehead and barked, "Remember, you devil, I won!" Taking the reins, he swung himself up into the saddle and gave Stephen a wink. "He respects me now."
Worried and out of breath, Bo Bak leaned against a tree to rest and allow his racing heart to stop its pounding. He had begun running as soon as he had seen Joshua and the horse disappear into the trees.
He heard something coming from deeper in the forest and froze. For a split second he felt a sinking sensation, for he thought it was the sound of a boy crying out. But then a wave of relief rushed through his body. The sound was two boys laughing.
After a dinner of vegetables and roasted goat, the small Shan cook took the plates away. Henry placed his napkin on the table and leaned back in his chair, looking at his dinner guest. "Stephen, I'm pleased you could join us tonight." He shifted his narrowing eyes to Joshua's badly scratched face.
"I'm happy that Joshua persuaded you to come. I apologize for his appearance, but it seems he had an accident today while trying to learn to ride horses. But I understand you know all about it. Please, if you two are to be friends, for my sake and Sarah's, keep an eye out for him. He is a rather persistent boy. 'Hardheaded' and 'prideful' would better describe him, but Sarah is partial to 'persistent.' "
Sarah's brow wrinkled upward. "Henry, I have already talked to Joshua and Stephen, and they have promised to be more careful. We should all be thanking our Savior that neither of them was hurt badly. I don't think any of Joshua's scratches are d
eep enough to cause scars."
Turning his attention back to Stephen, Henry pursed his lips.
"Stephen, in an hour I'm going to be talking to the church and village elders about volunteers for a militia. My faith in God is absolute, but my faith in evil men makes me fear for my people. But first, I would like to know more about Bo Bak. Sarah has told me how he got his title of Horseman, but he also called himself a teacher. What is it that he teaches?"
Stephen's eyes widened in disbelief that the pastor didn't know. "Pastor, the Teacher is not just a Horseman. He is the Master Horseman. He trains Horsemen for the test, and-"
Forged in Honor (1995) Page 3
