Wild Splendor

“I thought about this hard and long into the night,” Sage murmured, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. “Kit Carson has known the Navaho many moons. He once was a friend. Perhaps drawing him into the ceremony of the Navaho might bring friendship between us again, not only between me and Kit Carson but between him and my people, as a whole.”

“But he has said, time and again, that he cannot make decisions that will affect the welfare of your people without the direct order from the president,” she said, her voice guarded. She was not sure just how much the Navaho men accepted their wives’ debating their decisions. Until now Sage had seemed open enough with her to make her believe that she could be as open with him.

“He has more powers over decisions than he allows anyone to think,” Sage said, smiling smugly. “If he helps with the burial before he knows that I am ready to set him and the captives free as payment for his help, then he will prove to me that he is worthy of my chancing to trust him again.”

“What are you going to ask him to do at the ceremony?” Leonida asked softly, doubting her husband’s logic for the first time since she had met him. This man, this Kit Carson, was not to be trusted ever again.

“He will be asked to remove Pure Blossom’s body from her dwelling,” he said, his voice drawn. “He will carry her to her final resting place and lay her there. By doing so, he will align himself with

the Navaho again. And while doing this, he will be aware of the full meaning of his sacrifice. He will expect to receive his freedom. He will expect to see the Navaho as friends then, instead of enemies. He will follow his heart then to do what is right by them.”

“I hope you are right,” Leonida said, more under her breath than aloud.

He lifted her chin so that her eyes met his. “Let me explain the belief of the Navaho burial ritual to you,” he said softly. “Then as you witness it, you will understand. After you have prepared Pure Blossom for burial, her body will not be taken out the doorway, but through a hole broken in the north wall. The wigwam will then be abandoned and never entered again by any Navaho. Pure Blossom will be carried to a high, commanding bluff that overlooks the river. Such a serene place of burial is desired because of its solemn dignity.”

He stopped and cleared his throat. Talking about the burial of his sister pained him deeply. “My sister’s soul will have to undertake a long journey before it reaches its destination. Somewhere along the way her spirit will stop and drink at a large hole in the ground, after which it will shrink and pass on to the ‘Country of the Ghosts,’ where it will be fed with spirit food and drink. After this act of communion with the spirit world, her spirit may not ever return.”

Sage drew Leonida into his embrace. He stroked her waist-length hair. “It is my belief that my sister’s soul waits to be released from her frail, twisted body, then to be a thing of beauty in the hereafter.”

“I would like to think that also,” Leonida said, gazing up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I must go and speak with Kit Carson,” Sage said, easing Leonida from his arms. “My sister awaits your arrival.” He leaned a soft kiss to her lips. “My sister will somehow know your obedience and kindness to her. I will thank you for her.”

He started to walk away, then turned and smiled down at Leonida. “One day we, too, will travel the same path and we will embrace my sister again.”

Leonida wiped tears from her eyes as he left the wigwam. Then she herself left, turning toward Pure Blossom’s dwelling. The Navaho were gathered around the house, demonstrating their grief in various ways. As Leonida stepped inside, she found the singer standing near the corpse, chanting softly, and then occasionally singing his dead songs, his prayer to Pure Blossom’s soul.

A young Navaho maiden, pretty and petite, with midnight-dark eyes and hair and gentle facial features, was obediently kneeling down beside Pure Blossom, a milk-white doeskin dress draped over her arms, a roll of birch-bark resting on the floor beside her.

Leonida went and knelt beside the woman, knowing that this must be Gay Heart. They spoke only when Leonida needed further instructions as to how she should prepare Pure Blossom for her burial. First Leonida smoothed the blanket away from Pure Blossom. Her naked body was already turning a strange color, similar to ice frozen firmly on a river.

A basin of water with a cloth, and suds from a yucca plant floating at the top, was set on the floor beside Pure Blossom. Leonida did as she was told. She began washing Pure Blossom, giving her body the aroma of the yucca.

When that was done, Leonida took the beautiful dress that was offered her. She gently put the dress on Pure Blossom and then she attached several ornaments to the clothes and placed silver bracelets on her wrists and a beaded necklace around her neck.

Having seen how Pure Blossom took such pride in her floor-length black hair, Leonida took much time in brushing it, then braiding it in one long braid, bringing the end of the braid to rest between Pure Blossom’s hands.

“She is beautiful,” Gay Heart whispered, looking down adoringly. She then turned a soft smile to Leonida. “She must now be wrapped in a roll of birch bark. This will preserve her body at least until her spirit has taken its last steps into the Country of the Ghosts.”

Leonida smiled weakly at the maiden, then accepted the roll of birch bark in her arms. She gazed at Pure Blossom a moment longer, taking her last look at her beloved friend. Then, swallowing a lump that was building in her throat, she managed to get the birch bark under Pure Blossom and slowly wrapped it around her.

When this was done, the singer left the wigwam and announced that it was time for the short walk to the chosen burial ground.

As Leonida turned to leave the wigwam, she stopped with a start when she saw Kit Carson entering.

“You’ve agreed to do this for Sage?” Leonida whispered, stunned by his decision, yet feeling relieved. Perhaps Sage and Kit Carson had come to an understanding—one that benefited both Kit and the Navaho.

“Does it seem so astonishing that I would?” he whispered back. He placed a gentle hand on her cheek. “Pretty lady, I have done this many times before for the Navaho. The only difference is that this time I do it in the capacity of captive. Yet because of my admiration for Sage, I could not refuse him.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Leonida said, taking his hand from her cheek and gently lowering it to his side. “I also wish your generosity could be offered under different circumstances. Why couldn’t you have been as generous about everything else that the Navaho believe in? Like their need for freedom.”

Her chin held high, Leonida moved past him into the heat of the morning. She went to Sage’s side and watched Navaho warriors tear the birch bark away, opening the wall at the north side of the house, making it large enough for Kit Carson to carry Pure Blossom through. The chanting and singing continued, the voice of the singer the most prominent of all, echoing into the heavens with the remorseful songs.

Soon Kit appeared at the readied hole. Carrying the wrapped body in his arms, he stepped through the hole, then walked on past the congregation, going where Sage had directed him earlier to go. The people followed him up a hillside, Sage, Leonida, and the singer at the lead. The walk was dusty, the sun hot, the heat pulsing.

When the crest of the hill was reached, a shade tree was pointed out. Beneath it the grave had already been dug. Pure Blossom was laid into the opened arms of the earth.

Kit stepped back and stood beside Sage and Leonida. Gifts were placed in the grave with her. Leonida had not known of this custom, and badly wanted to give Pure Blossom something of herself. Her hand drifted to the squash blossom necklace that rested around her neck. Sage had repaired its clasp. Her fingers trembled as she unclasped it, filled with remembrances of the moment Pure Blossom had given it to her. Pure Blossom would be proud of this gift, for while she was alive she had known how precious it was to Leonida.