Wild Splendor

Leonida knelt down and placed the squash blossom necklace with Pure Blossom’s other gifts of love.

A warm hand in hers drew her back to her feet. She gazed up into Sage’s loving eyes, seeing pride in them, letting her know that he approved of the gift.

The ceremony lasted a short while longer as songs continued to be lifted into the heavens. And then the crowd began slowly dispersing. Sage went to the grave and knelt down on both knees. He began scooping the dirt over Pure Blossom’s wrapped body and the many gifts that lay in the grave with her.

Leonida put a hand to her mouth, stifling her wonder when Kit went and knelt on the opposite side of the grave and helped Sage fill it with the dirt.

Sage and Kit stopped for a moment, their eyes meeting momentarily. Then they both smiled and continued with the chore at hand.

Leonida sighed. For the first time in weeks she had hope that things were going to work out after all.

Chapter 29

Yes, this is Love, the steadfast and the true,

The immortal glory which have never set.

—CHARLES SWAIN

Leonida served Sage and Kit Carson corn soup and pine-needle tea, then sat down beside Sage with her own platter of food. Though the two men began eating in silence, her own appetite had waned with apprehension of what lay ahead. Runner was still with Adam, as Leonida had encouraged in order to keep him out of range of the possible heated arguments that might arise between Sage and Kit.

Unable to eat, Leonida set her wooden bowl aside, then grew even more tense when Sage set his bowl down beside him, his soup half-eaten. She looked guardedly over at Kit Carson as he also set his bowl aside, having scarcely touched his food.

“It is with much gratitude that I thank you for your part in my sister’s burial services,” Sage said, drawing his knees part way up to his chest and crossing his legs at the ankles. He placed a hand on each of his knees, his back stiff. “For your kindness, I wish to speak with you of your freedom.”

“Pure Blossom was sweet, kind and innocent,” Kit said. “I was glad to assist in her burial.” He drew his knees up before him as well and hugged them with his arms. “I now listen to what you have to say with an open mind and a friendly heart,” he said, nodding at Sage.

“Our friendship goes back in time many moons,” Sage said, his face a mask of control. “It is because of this, and because of what you did for my sister, that I am allowing you to leave. You are no longer a captive. Nor are the white women and children. But, Kit Carson, hear my warning well. This Navaho chieftain, and his people who are loyal to him, will never be enslaved on a reservation. I take my people far, far away, where no white man can find or harm them. It is best that when you leave, you do not turn your eyes in this direction again, for if you or your pony soldiers ever come near my people again, this Navaho chieftain will become your bitter enemy forever.”

“I listen to you with mixed emotions,” Kit said. “You speak of freedom in one heartbeat, and in the next you speak the word ‘enemy.’”

“Only because I have found that when dealing with any white man, one must not ever be too confident that friendship will last long between them,” Sage said flatly. He folded his arms across his chest. “Is that not so, Kit Carson? Have you not turned your back on Sage now more than once, to make ro

om in Navaholand for more white people settlers?”

“Only in the name of progress,” Kit said, his eyes wavering.

“Progress,” Sage said in a hiss. “That word cuts deep into my soul. Does not that word mean in the English tongue ‘a gradual betterment’? Whose? Of course it is always the white man’s, not the Navaho’s. It is called progress in the white man’s culture if the Navaho are forced into a white man’s prison cleverly named reservation.”

Sage placed a fist over his heart. “Kit Carson, this chieftain thinks of progress for his people,” he said. He then leaned over, staring angrily at Kit. “This chieftain warns you never to get in the way of the Navaho’s progress again,” he said. “Do you understand?”

Kit squirmed uneasily on the mat beneath him. He ran his fingers through his thick golden hair and cleared his throat nervously.

Then he put his hands on his knees again, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. “Your words are firm, as are your convictions,” he said. “I promise you, Sage, that I will do everything in my power to see that you are left alone, so that you are able to build a good life again with your people. I will tell the President my feelings for you and your people, and that I believe you should not be forced onto a reservation. I am certain myself that you had no part in the raids on the settlers.”

Then Kit paused. “Yet there was that attack on the stagecoach,” he said solemnly. “That was an act of terrorism. Some of the white pony soldiers were wounded. You even have with you many white captives. That is something the President won’t be able to forget so easily.”

“And I would not expect him to,” Sage said matter-of-factly. “I regret having wounded several pony soldiers. But no harm has come to the captive women and children. They have become among us as though Navaho themselves. They have been fed well. They have been kept warm with Navaho blankets and fires. They have slept comfortably alongside the Navaho. You can take that back to your President. Tell him to ask any of those who have lived among the Navaho these past weeks if they have any complaints, other than not having been given the right to leave.”

“There was one casualty among the women, isn’t that so?” Kit asked, forking an eyebrow.

“Yes, there was one among the women who passed away,” Leonida said quickly, “Trevor Harrison’s mother, Carole. But she died of natural causes. Even if she had been at the fort, she would still be dead. She had a lung ailment. Her days were numbered when she entered the stagecoach. You cannot blame Sage for that.”

“I was not sure of the circumstances,” Kit said humbly. “I will take Trevor back with me to Fort Defiance. I will make sure he is placed with relatives.”

“That is not necessary, Trevor is now called Runner,” Sage said proudly, “My wife and I have taken him in, as though he was borne of us. He is now our son in every way.”

“You have adopted him?” Kit said, gasping. He leaned forward, frowning, “I’m sorry. I still must take him back with me. He will be better off with relatives.”