Chapter 9

When Wild Mustang dismissed us, he took my hand again, and said, “White Owl, you shall always be welcome in my hogan.” The way he said it, it was more like an incantation, not a ‘come on back anytime.’ That statement brought Chairman Panther Strike to a halt, and he looked back at Wild Mustang. But what do I know about Navajo incantations?

Our little posse remounted our trusty steed: the multi-colored SUV. We were off to the clinic, where we met Julianne Nez, the Navajo PA. She was obviously only partially AmerInd; she was tall, about thirty, had a complexion much lighter than other Navajos I’d met, with striking blue eyes. They were set in a pleasant face with typical Indian features. She listened to what happened, what my medical treatment was so far, and unwrapped me, carefully. Her hands were cool as she probed my ribs. Several ‘uh huh’ and ‘yes’ and ‘good’ exclamations later, and she rewrapped me in new tape. It was a bit tighter than before, but it actually felt better.

By now, it was late afternoon ... too late to meet with Mr. Clearwater. So we went back to Wild Mustang’s place. We parked our trusty steed at the far end of a string of five horses and a motorcycle. Apparently, the Navajo drums had been sending out a message.

We walked in the adobe ranch house to find three old Indian men, one very old Indian woman, and a younger (mid-50s?) guy standing around a large table that was about two feet off the floor. Wild Mustang was one of them. Off to the side were Dove and Sky, leaning against the kitchen wall; they sorta came to attention when we entered – or at least they stopped leaning against the adobe.

Wolf took a long look at the room and decided to sit in a chair out of the way, and he gestured to Desert Flower to take a spot alongside his. Chairman Panther Strike took a place next to the younger old man, leaving me standing alone by the door.

Wild Mustang said something in Navajo, and they all sat down, on the floor. The Chairman spoke to me: “White Owl, this is most of the elders of the Diné. I know that several others are farther away and could not come in the few minutes we were away. This is not the Tribal Council of the Navajo. That is an elected body. But the elders are listened to. Please be seated, if that is comfortable for you ... Wild Mustang, our doctor said she is doing well but is still severely injured.”

He replied with some Navajo, then said to me, “I told him that I already knew that. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by speaking the language of the Diné, which you do not understand.”

I said, “Yá’át’ééh, to all of you.”

The woman smiled and said “Yá’át’ééh” but hers sounded different than mine. Something about the pronunciation of the ‘ééh’ part. “You will learn soon, if you are here long.”

Chairman Panther Strike spoke next. “Let me introduce folk. This lady is Katy of the Moons. On her left is Chief Soaring Eagle.” The Chief grunted and raised his hand off the table about an inch. “At his left is Tall Feather.” Tall Feather nodded. Even sitting down, he was a foot or foot-and-a-half taller than me, very old, and very thin.

There was a pause in the conversation, and then the younger old man said, “I’m Bill Clearwater. Wild Mustang has told us who you are, but not why you have come here.” Then he was quiet. The class at Navajo school was very good at teaching how to shut up and wait for the other guy to speak. There were six pairs of eyes staring at me impassively, plus Wolf, Flower, and the two girls near the kitchen door.

“Maybe I should start at the start,” I smiled around. “I’m told my father is, or was, half Navajo and half Shoshone. He disappeared before I can remember.” I noticed that Tall Feather’s left hand formed itself into a fist. “The woman who was my mother was half Algonquin, but she never talked about it. I do not call her ‘mother’ any more since she was going to sell me to men, repeatedly, when I turned thirteen, which will be next week. And when I refused, she hit me with a pipe. Broke my ribs. Wolf rescued me from the white man’s system – the police and hospitals and foster care. And here I am.”

Tall Feather interrupted my story and asked, “Is she still alive?”

Wolf answered him: “She is, but the District Attorney and Federal Police have said that she will be in prison for a long time.”

Chief Soaring Eagle said something quietly in Navajo to Tall Feather, and the big man noticeably relaxed. His left hand remained fisted, though.

“So,” I continued, “that’s how I got here, but not why I am here.” Sky put a glass of ice water near me, and I took a sip. “Some time ago, I heard a voice while I was almost asleep. He told me many things. That is how I learned about that woman being half Algonquin. Red told me. That is the name I gave him in my confused state. He did not mind. I believe now that it was the Great Spirit.