Wild Desire

She poured another cup of coffee, shifting her gaze to Runner. “Son, it’s wonderful that you’ve joined us this morning for breakfast,” she said, handing him the cup. “Since you’ve built your own hogan and live away from us, I’ve missed you.”

“Runner has more on his mind than eating with family,” Thunder Hawk interjected, giving Runner a teasing smile. “What girl are your eyes following now, my brother? There are many who have made special blankets for you. Do you not know that they do this to give you a hint that they wish to share their gift with you? Of all the blankets that you have been given, which do you like the most? That will tell this brother which girl you prefer.”

When Runner didn’t answer and only responded to his brother by glaring at him, Leonida shoved a cup of coffee into Thunder Hawk’s hand. “Hush now, Thunder Hawk,” she said firmly. “Quit teasing your brother. You should be concerning yourself about things other than women. Your brother and father are escorting you to school today. Now do I have your promise that you will stay? It gets so tiring to discover that you’ve skipped another full day of schooling. When will it end?”

“Sitting at desks is hogay-gahn, bad. It is always strange to me,” he complained. “It is too confining. It has few windows from which to see the loveliness of the land.”

He paused, then said, “This Navaho wants to ride horses alongside his father and brother. It was not meant for a Navaho to sit on a bench in a white man’s school every single day, when his hands might be used to help his parents in hard work.”

Thunder Hawk paused, then glowered from his mother to his father. “And this Navaho is too old to be in school,” he said, curving his lower lip into a pout.

“My son, had you not slipped away from school so often, you would have been finished with the teachings long ago,” Sage said firmly. “With the white men pushing against the boundaries of Navaho land, some even already living inside the reservation, it is necessary that the Navaho children learn as much as the whites who, themselves, attend schools.”

Sage paused for a moment. Everything in the hogan was silent except for the sounds of grease spattering and popping as white flour dough fried in deep fat in a skillet over the fire.

“When treaties were signed long ago, the Navaho promised the United States Government that their children would ‘learn paper,’” Sage finally said. “And, Thunder Hawk, so shall it be for this family. Your sister went to school until she learned enough to return to her weaving skills. Your brother has much knowledge learned at the schools on our reservation.”

He nodded over at Runner. “He went,” he said proudly. “He learned. And now he is finished. He has his father’s permission now to even live alone, in his own hogan. You go. You learn. One day you will also build your own hogan and run free on your horses whenever you like.”

“But, Father, I am now seventeen winters of age,” Thunder Hawk dared to argue.

“And so we might still be discussing this same issue when you are thirty winters of age if you do not busy yourself and get the book learning behind you,” Sage said, setting his empty cup aside. He folded his arms over his bare chest. “Thunder Hawk, this discussion is closed. Your father and brother will escort you to school today. I would not hope to think that we would have to go into the schoolroom with you and stand over you to make sure you stay.”

Thunder Hawk lowered his eyes. “E-do-tano, no,” he said, barely audible. “That is not required of you.”

Sage heaved a deep sigh. “Han-e-ga, good,” he said, smiling at Leonida as she handed him a platter of fried bread. “Now we can talk of other things. Runner? Have you recently gone and watched the tracks being laid closer and closer to Fort Defiance?”

Runner nodded a silent thank you to his mother as she handed him his breakfast. “Yesterday and the day before I watched,” he said, his dark eyes narrowing at the thought of the railroad inching farther and farther into Navaho land. “I questioned some of the laborers. They said this portion of the railroad is called a private spur. It is not planned to go far, yet it will pass Fort Defiance by several miles.”

“They plan even further expansion for that black iron fiend they call a train?” Sage said, enraged at the thought. “It was enough to know that it was being brought to Fort Defiance. I was anxious to see the last tie laid. And now you tell me that it comes closer now to our village?” His eyes flashed angrily. “That would mean more saloons and firewater ruining our young Navaho braves.”

“That is so, Father,” Runner said somberly.

“Is it not enough that the Navaho have already suffered at the hands of white people?” Sage said, glumly shaking his head slowly. “We have been cut off, lost, as many of our people were, years ago, during the ‘Long Walk’ to Fort Sumner.”

“Father, I am sorry that people of my past continue to cause the Dine so much heartache,” Runner said, sighing. “I have been a part of both worlds, but never torn about where I belong. It is with a proud heart that I live as Navaho, shamed often by those of my own kind.”

Leonida smiled weakly at Sage, her own feelings mirroring those of Runner. Like Runner, she was glad to be a part of this culture, where the only gre

ed within the People’s hearts was for the constant struggle and desire for peace.

“And what is the purpose of this added private spur?” Sage asked. He took a bite of his bread, smiling his approval over at Leonida, then focused his attention on Runner again, frowning.

“I did not get such answers from the men laying the tracks,” Runner said. “I did find out that a train arrives today as far as the tracks are already laid. Let us go and meet this train. Perhaps then we can find answers from those who are troubling us.”

“We know already why this is being done,” Sage said, his eyes narrowing. “The Navaho will be further exploited by the white people.” He slumped his shoulders and laid his plate aside. “How can the spirit of the earth tolerate the white man? Everywhere the white man has touched it, it is sore. As our people increase in number and flocks of sheep expand and press outward in every direction from our treaty reservation, will this black demon train cut our people in half?”

“Father, long ago, when Kit Carson came with the white pony soldiers and took a good portion of our people away on the ‘Long Walk,’ did you not despair as much then as now? Did not the Navaho return to their land even stronger? Nothing will ever stand in the way of our progress. Nothing. In fact, Father, if you will allow it, the coming of the train might benefit us.”

“How can you say that?” Sage said, giving Runner a disappointed look. “Do not speak so only because you were once a part of their lives. Always think Navaho. Never white.”

“I will never walk in the path of the white people again,” Runner quickly defended. “My very heart and soul are Navaho. My thoughts are only on the welfare of the Dine. That is why I am thinking about who might be exploiting whom if the white man bring their black demon engines farther into our land. With the engine comes people. What is wrong with having more people for our people to sell our wares to?”

He paused, as though measuring his thoughts before putting them into words, then said, “Think of the blankets that Pure Blossom could sell. Selling only to those who come to Fort Defiance and the trading posts nearby is only a small portion compared to how many will come with the railroads. It will give Pure Blossom great joy, and perhaps ease some of the pain from her illness.”

“What he says sounds reasonable,” Leonida said, sitting down beside Sage. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Darling, you have seen Pure Blossom lately. Have you not noticed how her back is becoming more hunched?” She cringed at the thought of her daughter’s obvious pain. “I have seen her kneading her fingers, as though they are paining her,” she murmured. “She has to realize now, as we do, that she has the same affliction as her namesake, your dear sister, Pure Blossom, who is at peace now in the Hereafter. How it would thrill our daughter to be able to sell her beautiful blankets to many people, instead of only just a few. Perhaps we could look to the arrival of the train as a blessing. Could we, darling? It would make it much easier to accept what is going to happen. It will, anyhow, no matter what we say or do.”

Sage gave Leonida a lingering look, seeing her as no less lovely than the day they had met. It had been during one of the times, those many years ago, when he had accompanied his sister, Pure Blossom, to Fort Defiance. He had stood watch as his sister had sold her fancy blankets and jewelry in a tent alongside many other Navaho who were there for the same purpose. When Leonida had come along, so sweet and gentle in manner, and so beautiful with her long, golden hair, she had stolen his heart.