The soldiers parked at the road’s end and dragged a long wooden box to the rear of the wagon.
“Can you lift it?” asked the sergeant.
“Not by myself,” said the private. “It’s too heavy. Must be one big Indian inside.”
“Let’s drag him over there and bury him,” the sergeant said, pointing to a mound of dirt among dozens of stone markers. The soldiers carried the coffin to the gravesite, along with two shovels, and began to dig.
“A graveyard,” Danny whispered. “This is very bad. The first day of my journey to rescue my family, and I stumble across a graveyard.” He lay on his back and remembered the long night in the graveyard at Fort Davis, when he lay in the coffin. Without thinking, he stretched his hands behind his back, half-expecting to feel the body of Jim Davis.
A slow smile crept across his face as he remembered how afraid he was. But I came out of the coffin alive. Jim Davis was alive, and now we’re both here at Fort Sumner. Maybe this is a good sign.
He rolled on his belly and crept to the top of the hill, watching and waiting for his chance.
“We better take that empty coffin back to the carpentry shop,” the sergeant said. “We were supposed to pick up two bodies, but one of ’em hadn’t died yet.”
“Have you seen that new carpenter work, the one from over at Fort Davis?” asked the private. “I heard he’s a rebel prisoner.”
“Yes, he’s a rebel,” said the sergeant, “but a hardworking one. I’ve never seen anyone take a pile of boards, a saw, and some nails, and throw a coffin together in a few hours. We’ll be bringing this extra coffin back to his shop.”
They are talking about Jim Davis, thought Danny. They are going to Jim Davis’s shop when they leave the graveyard. This is my chance to see my old friend.
“Seems like a waste of good boards to me,” the private said. “Don’t know why we can’t throw these Indians in a pit like we used to.”
The sergeant said nothing, and the two dug the hole in silence. They lowered the coffin into the ground and began tossing dirt into the hole.
“I never did like graveyards,” said the private. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Hold on,” said the sergeant. “My old man was a preacher, and I can’t leave this man without a prayer.”
The soldiers stood facing the grave, with their backs to Danny Blackgoat. They held their hats in their hands and bowed their heads.
Just like the Gradys do before they eat their meals, thought Danny. I hope they pray as long as Mr. Grady does.
Keeping a careful eye on the soldiers, Danny crawled over the hill and dashed to the wagon. Without a sound he climbed onto the wagon bed, lifted the lid of the extra coffin, and slipped inside. Very quietly he lowered the lid, holding his breath and hoping the soldiers saw nothing.
Once inside, he opened his mouth wide and took a deep breath. What did I just do? he asked himself. I was safe. No one knew I was anywhere near Fort Sumner. And the first time I hear anybody talk about Jim Davis, I crawl in a coffin on the chance that I might get to see him! What am I doing?
But he could not stop himself from smiling. I know what I will do. I can play a trick on Jim Davis. Yes!
The soldiers climbed to the wagon as if nothing had happened. “Now that we have a good carpenter,” the sergeant said, “he’s gonna keep us busy. No more rotting bodies on the ground.”
“I still think it’s a waste of good lumber,” said the private.
“Well, that’s not our business. Let’s get back to the fort,” the sergeant replied, snapping the ropes and calling to the horses. “Let’s go, boys.”
Inside the coffin Danny bounced from one side to the other as the wagon climbed the rocky road. As they neared the top of the hill, the road took a steep upturn. Danny felt the coffin slide a few feet to the rear of the wagon.
“Please, no,” he whispered.
The horses whinnied, and the sergeant snapped the ropes again. “Come on, let’s go, boys!”
Soon the wagon topped the hill and faced a long downhill path. With the extra weight, the coffin slid hard against the wagon seat.
“Hey,” shouted the private. “What’s going on with that coffin? It didn’t slide around on the way up here.” Danny clenched his fists tight and dug them into his cheekbones.
“We didn’t drive as fast on the way up,” the sergeant said. “We had two coffins, remember? And one of them had a body inside.”
Danny relaxed and whispered a Navajo thank-you.
In half an hour the wagon came to a halt.
“Let’s carry this coffin inside the shop and get some lunch,” the sergeant said.
Oh, no, thought Danny. They’ll lift the coffin from the wagon and know somebody is inside. I am a dead man!
The door to the carpentry shop opened, and a familiar voice called out, “I thought you needed two coffins.” It was Jim Davis.
“Help me, please, Jim Davis,” Danny whispered. “Your friend Danny Blackgoat needs you.”
“Here,” Davis said, as if he had heard the plea of his young friend, “let me carry that.”
“It’s heavy,” said the sergeant.
“It is an empty coffin,” Jim Davis replied. “If I can’t carry an empty coffin, then maybe I need to build one for myself!”
The soldiers laughed while Davis reached over the sideboard and slid the coffin to the rear of the wagon. “You’re right,” Davis said. “This coffin is heavy. Feels like something is in it.”
“Not unless a body crawled inside when we weren’t looking,” the private said, laughing.
He knows something is inside, Danny thought. In an instant Jim Davis opened the lid of the coffin and stood staring at his young friend, Danny Blackgoat.
“Anything wrong?” asked the sergeant.
Davis could not take his eyes away from Danny, with his arms wrapped tight around himself and a terrified look on his face.