Wild Splendor

“What you say is wrong, is hogay-gahn, bad,” Sage said. “The white man does not stand alone in this problem. Our cattle as well as sheep are also being stolen. Find the renegades responsible, then peace will again be achieved between the Navaho and white people.”

“That is not the way it is to be,” Kit said. “It has been decided that all Navaho will settle on the reservation. There you will have a good life. I give you my word, Sage.” He reached out a hand of friendship.

Sage’s jaw tightened and he stiffened his back. He gestured with a hand toward the wide sweep of land that surrounded him. “Tinishten, as far as a man can see, the land belongs to the Navaho,” he said. “The Navaho love their land. We have lived here for five hundred years or more. E-do-tano, no, the Navaho cannot leave this land. They will be here, Sa-a-nari, living forever, ka-bike-hozhoni-bi, happy evermore.”

Tears flooded Leonida’s eyes, her heart breaking as she listened to Sage’s pleas. She knew they were falling on deaf ears. In her mind’s eye, she imagined Pure Blossom weaving her blankets, so innocent and unthreatening, soon to be confined to land that was foreign to her.

In her mind’s eye, she saw Sage sitting on a high knoll, watching his horse grazing peacefully, smoke spiraling from his fancy long-stemmed pipe.

She did not expect him or his sister ever to have such peaceful moments again.

Kit Carson started to speak, but Sage stopped him and continued his plea, his voice tight.

“The Navaho, who call themselves Dineh, meaning ‘The People,’ need lots of space,” he said. “A great many Navaho are shepherds, and their flocks must have great areas in which to graze. Others are ranchers and farmers. They need space too. If placed on reservation, there won’t be enough grass to feed the sheep and goats and cattle. The Navaho will become poor, very poor.”

Kit lifted his chin and placed his hand on his holstered pistol. “I don’t like this any more than you do,” he said solemnly. “But what must be done must be done, and I hope it can be achieved in as peaceful a fashion as possible. Sage, if you and the others will surrender and promise to go to the reservation, you will have rations until you get started in your new life.” He cleared his throat nervously, then added, “You will travel to the reservation peacefully, or by force.”

There was another strained silence. The heat in Sage’s look stung Leonida’s heart as he gave her a quick glance. In his eyes was such hatred, such torment.

She covered her mouth with her hands as he stared down at Kit again and said a loud, determined “E-do-ta,” which she knew meant no.

Another Navaho leader appeared beside Sage. “The Navaho nation is as powerful as whites,” he said stiffly. “They will stay and raise sheep. Now. Always. If war is needed, the Navaho will scatter like birds into the canyons and among the rocks until you come. Then we will kill, if forced to.”

Leonida’s heart was scarcely beating as she watched Sage stoop to one knee before the fire, his disgust and disapproval of the white man’s plans evident in his face.

She gasped when Sage angrily picked up a handful of sand and tossed it into the fire, which was a way for the Navaho to show the extent of their anger. Then he rose to his full height to leave.

But just before he went, he gave Leonida a stern, then a wavering stare. He walked away at a slow, dignified pace, and the other leaders followed him.

Everything within Leonida made her want to run after Sage and apologize for the white people’s inhumanity toward his people, but she knew that even she was now perhaps hated by him. She wiped tears from her eyes as Sage mounted his chestnut stallion and rode slowly away.

Then suddenly, with everyone following him, Sage kicked his horse into a hard gallop, shrieking, “Ei-yei.”

Harold hurried to Kit Carson’s side. “Send the men after them,” he shouted, his pistol drawn, taking aim at Sage’s back. “Don’t let them get away.”

Kit placed a firm hand on Harold’s firearm and lowered it to his side. “No, we’re not going to do anything as hasty as that,” he said, frowning. “We’ve got to give them a chance to think this through more carefully. They’ll come around. They’ll change their mind.”

“And if they don’t?” Harold said, slipping his pistol back into his holster.

Kit didn’t answer, just gave him a grim, sad look.

The sound of the Navaho horses’ hooves riding toward the mountains was like distant thunder, matching the vibrations of Leonida’s pounding heart as she shielded her eyes with a hand and found Sage at the lead of those fleeing the injustices of the white man.

Sobbing, she picked up the hem of her skirt and ran away from the soldiers, who were now laughing and poking fun at the Indians.

Chapter 5

Thou must give, or woo in vain!

So to thee—farewell!

—ANONYMOUS

After a night of little sleep, Leonida was woken with a start by a commotion outside. She sat up in bed and stared toward her bedroom window, wondering why there were so many excited voices, among them those of women and children.

Wiping sleep from her eyes, she crept out of bed. With the hem of her lacy nightgown sweeping around her ankles, she went to the window, drew back the sheer curtain, and looked outside. Her heartbeats quickened and her eyes widened as she watched the rush of women and children in the courtyard and saw the many trunks and travel bags being stacked on the board walkway where passengers usually waited for the stagecoach.

Scarcely breathing, Leonida watched the women and children coming together, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the stagecoach.