64

Dezba’s Hogan

Hasbaá was waiting outside her hogan. She greeted Will warmly and held him in her arms, then bade him enter. Dezba and Barboncito were seated inside. They looked delighted. Dezba held out the packet of documents for him to see.

How in the world?

“I had quite an adventure,” Will commented with magnificent understatement.

“We are all proud of you,” Hasbaá said. “Changing Woman is proud of you. You have done well.”

“We have to get these papers to Santa Fe as soon as possible.”

“My horse will be waiting for you in the morning,” Barboncito said.

“Can you make the journey back?” Hasbaá asked.

Will started to ask that someone accompany him. But he knew an Indian risked punishment if he or she left the reservation. Besides, I’ve done it once already by myself.

“I’ll leave before sunrise.”

He explained to the Diné leaders what the evidence they had gathered meant. They were appalled to learn how they’d intentionally been put in harm’s way to create a safety buffer for the settlers and angered to hear how Carleton had turned their misfortune and suffering to his own profit. Will talked with them about what he expected to happen. Steck would telegraph the report of Carleton’s misdeeds. Then they’d have to wait to hear from the War Department. He’d probably be away another two or three weeks. He hoped he’d return with news that Washington was going to send investigators.

Hasbaá urged him rest before his arduous journey. Once Carleton realized he had disappeared from the reservation the next day, he was bound to catch on. Perhaps he’d send a posse out. Will would have to ride swift and sure.

The others left. Hasbaá and Will lay together on the sheepskins and held each other. Hasbaá’s touch was comforting.

“What really happened?”

“What do you mean?” Hasbaá replied. Perhaps she was being coy.

Will described the whole series of events as best he could recall: seeing Turquoise Boy come into the sweat lodge, then following the mysterious Holy Person up the ladder through the hole in the sky, their walking in on the conversation in Washington, then riding the horses through the storm, and going up to Carleton’s office. “What really happened?”

“What happened is what you experienced.”

“Well,” Will shot back, “what did you experience?”

Hasbaá was silent a moment as if composing an answer. “You fainted in the sweat lodge. We brought you out and carried you here. You slept for several hours; then some time in the night you got up and left. That is when you went to General Carleton’s office?” She added the last as a question.

“Weren’t you with me?”

“I lay beside you and prayed to Changing Woman for you. In my dreams, I went with you to Diné Bikéyah, the homelands of our people. Segundo was there.”

“Yes, I remember.”

Will rolled over and laid his head on Hasbaá’s chest. It didn’t matter what really happened. What mattered is that they got the evidence they needed. He’d done something quite risky, he realized, something foolishly valiant. He didn’t think of himself as heroic exactly. He apparently had done it all as if sleepwalking. He’d never had a chance to be heroic. He hadn’t believed it had been happening.

What was heroic, he told himself, was that he’d let himself feel his affection for Hasbaá. He’d overcome the barriers of race and culture, and in so doing entered into another realm of existence where heroism was natural and a matter of course for being human, where the universe helped every well-intentioned effort to abide in harmony.

Now those feelings of affection began again to overwhelm him. He clung tight to Hasbaá and then raised his eyes to hers and felt the deep human connection that transcended all the armies of differences between them. They made passionate love. Will was husband to Hasbaá; he entered her deep and strong, and she bucked against him to rouse him higher and harder. Their bodies were hot where they touched. Will felt such bodily love for her. Then they changed positions and Will opened himself to Hasbaá and she was husband to him. He felt himself filled with the Indian’s strength and exotic vision. It was all so intensely sexual, yet also mystical. When they came, Will felt that inner, ethereal light that had guided him in the general’s office explode from the depths of his body and surge into his head. As the waves of pleasure subsided and he came back to himself, he wondered if Hasbaá had seen his emerald eyes light up in the darkness.

Afterwards, Will thought about the spirit orgasm he shared with Hasbaá and Segundo on the bluff above Diné Bikéyah.

“I remember, too,” Hasbaá whispered.

Afterward, Will rolled over and tried to sleep. He clutched the packet of documents to his chest for safekeeping. In spite of his exhaustion, he couldn’t rest. He kept waking up with dreams of danger.

How come Carleton let me out of jail? And what did Peak mean about accepting the general’s generosity? Had he been offering a bribe?

Will knew he couldn’t betray the Diné for money. But he worried the Diné might betray him—not Dezba and Barboncito. But there were certainly Navajos who did not like his joining Dezba’s outfit. He remembered what Mac had told him about the Mescaleros. What if Mac wittingly or unwittingly betrayed him? What if he told his Mescalero woman about the bribe Peak had offered?

Will thought he heard sounds outside the hogan. Was it attackers coming to get him? He tried to go back to sleep. He told himself it was just normal activity in the camp. But then something familiar burned at his nostrils: the pungent oily scent of kerosene.

He heard the gurgle and splash of the flammable fluid being poured around the outside of the hogan. This wasn’t a mystical dream. This was a down-to-earth attack. He was suddenly struck with the fear that tonight’s dreams of danger were also coming true.

“Hasbaá, wake up. We’ve got to get out of here quick.”

In a moment, they were both out of the hogan. It was pitch dark. They ran stealthily to a spot where they could hunker down behind the sweat lodge and watch. Will still held the packet tight.

Soon a light sputtered in the darkness as a match lit. Flames flickered along a trail of kerosene toward the hogan. They quickly spread all around the base. The fire looked particularly intense near the door flap, which must have been doused especially generously. Fire ran up the sides of the hogan in fingers where the flammable liquid had been splashed. And then the whole thing suddenly burst into a raging blaze as fumes inside exploded.

The figure that set the fire had backed away. But in the sudden bright light, Will recognized Sgt. Peak’s weathered and embittered features just before he turned and disappeared into the darkness. No wonder they let me out. They planned to kill me.

“My god, they almost burned us alive.”

“Changing Woman has work for you to do. That is why she woke you up.”

“Well, I’m sure glad she did.” Will was starting to tremble in recognition of what a close call they’d had. “Well, maybe this works in our favor. If they think they killed us, they won’t come after me. We’ve got to let them think they burned me up.”

Indians began to swarm from the huts and hogans around the settlement to see what the ruckus was. “Hasbaá.” “Hasbaá!” One after another, the people began to call out as they saw what had happened. Keening and wailing filled the night.

Hasbaá and Will still hid behind the sweat lodge. They were both naked. Dezba came up behind Hasbaá. “It will soon be dawn,” she said to Will. “You should eat something to prepare for your journey.”

“I should put on some clothes.”

“Aunt, you must let the people know I am safe,” said Hasbaá. “I hear such grief in their cries.”

“Will you show yourself to reassure them?”

“We must stay hidden.” Hasbaá’s voice sounded conspiratorial. “Will must leave the settlement, and I must perform a mission for Changing Woman before the Hairy Faces come to investigate.”

“I will reassure them, but protect your secret.” Dezba excused herself.