The next half hour became the worst nightmare Rick had ever experienced. But this was no nightmare. This was real. The soldiers did not ride by without stopping, as expected. They approached Rick as if he were the man they were looking for.
The officer in command waved his arm at his men and shouted, “Surround the wagon and shoulder your rifles!” The soldiers, still on horseback, circled the wagon and pointed their rifles at Rick.
“I work for the army,” Rick said to the officer. “This is a supply wagon. I’m on my way to Fort Sumner.”
“We know who you are,” the officer replied. “You’re Rick, and you’re married to a Navajo woman. We suspect you of treason.” Rick said nothing in reply.
“What supplies are you carrying?” asked the officer.
“Nothing,” Rick said. “I’m on a return trip from Fort Davis.”
Ignoring Rick, the officer pointed to one of his men. “Corporal, see what’s under that blanket.”
“Wait!” shouted Rick, standing and waving his arms at the soldiers. “There is nothing in my wagon but food supplies for my trip. Stay out of my wagon.”
The officer pointed slowly to Rick, his jaw set in a look of anger.
“Ready!” he shouted.
All twenty of the soldiers lifted their rifles and aimed at Rick.
“Aim,” said the officer. The soldiers placed their fingers on the triggers.
Rick lowered his arms to his sides. In the long silence that followed, he turned his head, pleading with the soldiers, staring deep into their eyes. What he saw terrified him. The soldiers wanted more than anything to fire their guns and watch him die. Rick placed his palms on top of his head and pulled his chin to his chest.
“Lower your rifles,” the officer said, satisfied that Rick fully understood who was in charge. “Now, see what’s under the blanket.”
“I am sorry, Danny,” Rick whispered to himself. “I could not save your life.”
“There is nobody here, sir,” a soldier said. “He is telling the truth. Nothing but supplies, food, and clothing.”
Rick lifted his head and tried not to show his surprise on his face. The officer was disappointed. He tightened his lips and spat on the ground. “Show him what we had planned for him and the boy both,” he said.
The corporal lifted two thick hanging ropes from his saddle.
The officer pointed to a leafless tree by the road. “My hope was to hang you two and leave your bones for the buzzards. Your skeletons would swing on that tree limb as a warning to everyone who passed by—do not help the savages.”
“I understand,” said Rick.
“You’d better,” the officer said. “We will see you at Fort Sumner.” He turned to his men and shouted, “Get ready to ride!”
They soon rode away, leaving Rick standing in the wagon and choking on the dust from their horse’s hooves. As they topped the hill, he gazed at the sky, waiting for someone to appear and tell him what had just happened.
“I think it’s safe now, Danny,” Rick said, sobbing as he spoke. “Are you there? Are you still alive? Maybe we are both dead. Maybe. What is happening, son?”
The silence was broken only by the beating of wings, as the birds returned to their nests. “Please say something, Danny. Let me know where you are.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Danny’s soft voice rose from beneath the wagon.
“Danny Blackgoat!” Rick jumped from the wagon and fell to his knees. He saw Danny clinging to the front wagon axle.
“I couldn’t hold on much longer,” he said. “I don’t know what I would have done if they shot you.”
“Danny,” Rick said. “I think I know what your life has been like for the last year. I have never been so scared in my life.” He took a long breath and wiped the tears from his face. “But don’t climb on the wagon. Not yet. Let’s sit under the trees for a while.”
He led the mules to the shade of a scraggly clump of mesquite trees. Danny rolled a bundle of straw from the rear of the wagon to feed the mules. Rick nodded a silent thank-you and leaned against the trunk of the stoutest tree. He bowed his head and wrapped his arms around himself till his whole body shook.
When Rick finally opened his eyes and took a breath, Danny hurried to the wagon, returning with a bag of dried beef sticks, a canteen, and two cups.
After pouring a cup of water for himself and Rick, Danny stood tall and lifted his cup to the sky.
“I would like to offer a toast,” he said.
“What? What are you doing, Danny Blackgoat?” Rick asked.
“I’m doing something I have never done before,” said Danny. “But I saw Jim Davis offer toasts, and Mr. Grady too. So now, I want to offer a toast.”
“Fine,” Rick said. “What are you toasting?”
“Life,” said Danny. “I am offering my toast to a long life for my friend Rick.”
“I’ll drink to that!” Rick said, nodding and raising his glass to his lips.
“I would like to offer a toast as well, Danny. Do you mind?”
Danny shrugged his shoulders and sat down. No white person had ever asked his permission before.
Rick rolled to his knees and slowly stood, while Danny filled both of their cups.
“This toast is for you, Danny,” Rick said, as he held his cup to the sky. A single ray of sunshine peeked through the clouds, and Rick closed his eyes and nodded at the blessing from the heavens.
“I offer this toast to the long and happy marriage of my daughter, Jane, to the finest young man I have ever met, Danny Blackgoat of the Navajo people.”
Danny was so surprised he almost dropped his cup.
“Will you drink to it?” Rick asked.
Danny’s mind raced with Navajo tradition—who must give their permission, the proper way of arranging a marriage.
“I will do everything I can,” he said, staring into his cup, “to make this happen. I would be honored to marry your daughter, Jane.”