“I know that you must,” she murmured, flinging herself into his arms, hugging him tightly, as though it might be the last time. “I never doubted that you would.”
She closed her eyes, trying to blot out doubts that she would have to carry with her the whole time he would be gone, yet unable to. She doubted she would ever learn to trust her husband’s safety on her own.
Chapter 35
Quietly you walk your ways,
Steadfast duty fills the days.
—EDWARD ROWLAND SILLS
Sitting before a crackling fire in her adobe home, Leonida was busy peeling “paper” bread from her stone fireplace griddle, which had been Pure Blossom’s most treasured possession, handed down from generation to generation. Leonida had been taught that paper bread was a treat, usually reserved for festive occasions. She was preparing for her husband’s return, knowing that he would be home again soon. And when he returned with those of his people who had been parted from their loved ones so long—ah, but would not there be a grand celebration?
Smiling assuredly, telling herself over and over again that Sage would return safely, that the soldiers had not tricked him, Leonida carefully folded her paper bread in quarters, then began making another piece of the Navaho delicacy. She carefully spread with her hand a thin batter of blue corn meal on the smoking-hot griddle, allowed it then to bake a few seconds, then lifted it off. Pure Blossom had told her that years of practice were needed before one could smear the batter without burning fingers. Leonida was proud that for her that was not true. She had no scarring on her fingers from being awkward while cooking.
Besides preparing her “paper bread,” she was cooking a thin corn gruel in a pot on the fire. For the last two evenings Leonida had hoped that Sage would arrive in time to partake of the evening meal with his family. The children had missed him. Even little Pure Blossom had been more fussy, which meant to Leonida that her daughter was missing the stronger arms of her father. As Leonida felt so much more protected while within her husband’s arms, surely also her daughter had instincts enough to feel the same.
Thinking that she had enough paper bread prepared, Leonida began cleaning up the mess she had made, keeping an ear out for sounds at the door of her hogan. She was ever listening for the sound of many horses’ hooves, eager to rush out and fling herself into her husband’s arms if it were he.
She sighed. Still all that she heard were the children’s voices as they played close by with a group of other young braves. It did her heart good to hear her children enjoying themselves in this world that was fraught with questionable deeds and heartache. Before she had moved to Fort Defiance she had never even thought about the plight of the Indians. She was just like everyone else—not thinking about the Indians at all. They were far, far away from where she lived, a part of the wilderness, desert, and mountains.
Never in a million years had she thought she would meet and fall in love with a handsome Navaho chief and marry him, becoming a part of the Indian community herself, taking on their same problems, pain, and injustices.
Sudden shouts outside the hogan made Leonida suck in a deep breath. She then heard the sound of horses in the distance.
“Sage,” she whispered, placing her hands at her throat. “He’s home. Oh, thank the Lord, he’s home.”
Aflutter with excitement, Leonida went to the crib and checked on Pure Blossom. She turned and started toward the door, then stopped and gazed down at herself. “I’m a sight!” she groaned, seeing the flour smeared on her colorful skirt. Her hands went to her hair, finding it mussed up from her long hours of cooking.
“I can’t let him see me like this,” she fretted.
She peered at the door, her heart thumping. “But I can’t take the time to clean myself up,” she said aloud. “I’m too anxious to see him.”
Not thinking anymore about her appearance, Leonida rushed out of the hogan, her fingers working with her hair, trying to make it more presentable. She could see Sage now. He was only a short distance away, riding straight and tall in his Navaho saddle, yet his expression was not that of a happy man.
Leonida’s footsteps faltered when she saw what might be the reason for her husband’s grave attitude. She was mentally counting the men, women, and children who were sharing rides with Sage’s warriors. There weren’t nearly as many of his people returning as she had thought there would be.
Fear gripped Leonida’s insides. Yet she was sure that not that many had died on the long walk to Mexico. How could it have been that many?
Her thoughts stopped short and her eyes grew wide and disbelieving when she caught sight of at least ten sheep and the same number of goats trailing behind the returning Navaho, being herded along by two young braves.
Runner and Thunder Hawk came running up to Leonida, each grabbing one of her hands. “Daddy is home,” Thunder Hawk squealed, peering up at Leonida with his wide eyes.
“Yes, Daddy is home,” Leonida said, feeling torn. She was concerned about the number of people returning to the stronghold, yet surprised and happy about the sheep and goats. The animals would be a blessing. The people’s yarn had been all but used up. They had hungered for mutton and goat’s milk. And soon they would be blessed with many more sheep and goats.
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She turned her eyes back to Runner, wondering why he was so quiet. Then she found out. His thoughts were on someone besides his daddy.
“I wonder if he got to talk to Adam,” Runner said, now more than half as tall as Leonida. He peered ahead. “I wish I could have gone with Father. It would have been good to see Adam again.” He shifted his eyes, gazing up at Leonida. “I miss him even though I haven’t seen him for five winters. I wonder if he misses me also?”
Leonida hurried her pace as the horses came closer and closer. “I’m sure Adam has missed you as much,” she reassured him. “He has probably even sent a message to you with your father. He’s probably as practiced in his skills of writing as you are.”
Runner suddenly broke free and began running hard and fast toward Sage, waving at him and shouting a greeting in Navaho. The path leading to the returning Navaho was now filled with the people of the stronghold, yet there was no singing. Everyone seemed as solemn as Sage, apprehensive as they stopped to wait for the entourage to come to them.
Even Leonida stopped and waited. She picked Thunder Hawk up into her arms, her heart thumping wildly as Sage’s eyes met hers in a silent hello. She watched as he stopped his horse and reached for Runner, pulling him up into the saddle with him, then proceeded onward. Runner smiled proudly as he sat as straight and square-shouldered as his father in his father’s fancy Navaho saddle.
Leonida’s pulse raced, so wanting to be on that saddle with her husband, yet she stood quietly by, still waiting. Sage’s bridle jangled, and his chestnut stallion pranced, his head held high, the round silver conchas on the bridle flashing in the sun.