Chapter 6

 

 

When he got back to the trailer, it was unlocked and empty. He probably needed to see about having another set of keys made or just give Zac the back door key and have him enter and leave that way. That was easier. Ben was replaying the conversation with Chief Billie and beginning to feel the need to outline a plan of action. Not to write down but just to think through before acting. Trini would be invaluable. If anyone could help him with the comings and goings of supply deliveries, it would be Trini. He’d just taken a cool bottle of water from the ice chest and pulled up a stool to the breakfast bar when Zac burst in.

“Dad, I got somebody I want you to meet. This is my friend, Nathan. Nathan Yazzie.”

Ben had been gone an hour and already Zac had made a friend. A young boy stepped out from behind Zac. Ben was immediately struck by large brown eyes and black hair shaved on one side of his head leaving a pretty impressive comb-over that brushed his shoulder on the opposite side. If it were the seventies, the cut would be a type of Mohawk—named for Mohawk Indians fighting wars with bows and arrows who would shave the side of their heads where the bow-string would be pulled back. If Nathan was a warrior today, he’d be announcing to the world that he was right-handed. He was probably Zac’s age or close, but pre-teen boys grew in varying spurts. Even though Zac was tall for eleven years, Nathan was two inches taller.

“Nathan, it’s nice to meet you. Do you live here in the camp?”

“I rode in the ambulance with my grandmother this morning. She’s got a bad heart and it’s safer for her to be in the hospital with all the sickness. I don’t know where I’ll stay. Is there someone I should ask?”

“Let’s go check in with Trini at the office. I bet she’ll have the answers.”

 

* * *

 

But Trini didn’t. The three of them crowded into her office and waited until she finished a phone call to see where relatives of patients would be staying.

“It’s just one more thing we didn’t plan on. Single family members. We need a dormitory setup. I don’t know why FEMA thought all patients would be by themselves and magically get here, check themselves in and hop into bed after taking their own temperature. And if anyone came with them, it would be two or more adult family members. We have a lot to learn and a lot to do better. We just don’t have accommodations for anyone under eighteen.”

“Dad, why couldn’t Nathan stay with us? My room has bunk beds. We’ve got room.”

“Oh, Dr. Pecos, if you could see your way to take Nathan in, that would be wonderful. He lives over four miles from here with his grandmother, and now even if he could get back and forth, he’d be alone.”

“I think Zac’s suggestion would work out fine. Nathan? What do you think?” Ben asked.

As an answer Nathan simply looked up at Ben and nodded. Ben watched as Zac gave Nathan a high five and both boys just grinned at each other. Had this been planned? It didn’t matter; Ben couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events. He’d been worried about leaving Zac alone or, worse, dragging him everywhere he needed to go.

“I need to bring my horses here. I saw the stalls and corral. May I put them there? I only have two.”

“I don’t see why not. They were installed for those traveling a long distance to visit the hospital. At least someone got that right. I’ll put your name on the two stalls at the end and add your name to Dr. Pecos’s trailer.” Trini was writing on a yellow tablet. “I’ll let Oscar know that he needs to get water to the trough at the barn. Will you be in charge of food for the animals?” This was directed to Ben.

“Yeah, I think I can manage that. I should be able to get into Gallup to a feed store when I have to.”

“I need to get some things for my grandmother and pick up the horses. I’ve got food there, too. Zac said he could help me bring them back to camp.”

This was awkward. Ben assumed he meant to ride the horses from his home to here. He didn’t think Zac had a lot of experience with horses, and riding one a few miles might be a little challenging. But he wouldn’t embarrass his son by either sharing his worries or refusing to let him help. There were just some things that came under the heading of learning experiences. And Ben had an idea that he’d be spending a lot of time crossing his fingers.

“Oh, Dr. Pecos, I meant to ask earlier—would you be able to meet with a FEMA representative at four today?”

“Sure. That will work. What is this concerning?”

“Money. Delivery of goods. Finger-pointing—excuses as to why it hasn’t gone faster. It’s always the same. In the thirty days that we’ve been assembling this camp, the powers that be have visited one time. Took a few pictures and left. Of course, they call almost daily. Dr. Pecos, we’re playing catch-up. Everything that’s here today should have been in place a month ago. I’m tired of the promises and no action. And I’m tired of everything being our fault. I’m glad you’ll be dealing with them and not me anymore.”

 

* * *

 

Ben followed Nathan’s directions and headed the truck west and south. He wouldn’t make good time; the road was washboard rough. In fact, he wasn’t so much on a road as he was on packed clay that had been worn down by foot trade, vehicles, and more than a few horses with riders. Every rain, which luckily wasn’t often, saw rivulets run across the road leaving a wavy surface when dry. Just one of those things Natives were stuck with without road-grading equipment.

Once again he felt himself caught up in the vast expanse of land and sky and natural monuments in the distance. Pinks, oranges, and golds defined the landscape of mesas and rolling hills. There just wasn’t very much that was green—some scrub brush but nothing taller than his waist. Yet the landscape was arresting—something a visitor would never forget. The boundaries of New Mexico and Arizona were blended together out here. If he were to turn more directly south, Chinle would command the skyline—that stove-pipe shaped rock outcropping several stories high, a symbol synonymous with the Southwest. This Indian land just a couple hundred miles from his birthplace was so different. The Pueblos of Ben’s childhood were true villages with their squat adobe dwellings, most sharing an interior wall clustered together to form one community with a plaza in the center and a church and burial ground at the edge. Or, like Taos, the first apartment house style of adobe buildings with a second floor.

In contrast, the Navajo reservation was a collection of scattered residences, separate hogans or wooden lean-tos, housing that defined autonomy with distance from one another. More than one hundred and seventy-five thousand citizens in an area the size of West Virginia. Ben could see the worry about a virus running rampant across such a vast area. What plan had been set in place to contact these outliers? Who was checking on families like Nathan’s?

“Nathan, how did you get an ambulance for your grandmother?”

“I went to my uncle’s house last night and told him his sister had fainted and was complaining about pain in her chest. He promised to have someone come out this morning. He’s a member of the tribal council, so he can make things happen.” He suddenly pointed out the truck’s windshield. “There. See the water tank and windmill? Turn to your right. You can see the hogan from here.”

It was evident that this dwelling was a summer house with a bark roof and one side open. But again the entryway faced east to capture the sunrise and good blessings. Much of everyday life was enjoyed outdoors for a part of the year—even weaving. Under a thatched hut to the side of the dwelling was a loom and a half-finished rug or blanket—he couldn’t tell which. A cooking pit was also outside; otherwise the structure consisted of wooden beams, large sticks actually, covered with weeds and grasses and covered over with an earth mixture of natural ‘plaster’.

Behind the summer house was the foundation and debris of what had been an octagonal hogan, now destroyed. Ben knew without asking that the house had been demolished because there had been a death. When someone dies in his or her house, ghosts prevent it from ever being lived in again. But the real surprise was the forty-foot travel trailer, an expensive-looking camper with two pop-out rooms and a covered porch that commanded a good portion of the loosely fenced yard. The old and the new. Somehow this living arrangement seemed to sum up modern life on the reservation.

“My cousin won that at the Flowing Water Casino last year. My uncle wouldn’t let him put it on his land so he gave it to his sister, my grandmother. I like it. The beds are really nice.”

“Isn’t Flowing Water by Shiprock?”

“Yeah.”

Ben paused. Odd. Indians usually weren’t gamblers. There were all those sayings about what the Indians gave the White Man, like tobacco, which the White Man couldn’t handle and casinos where the White Man lost his money. The downside of those sayings, however, was the fact that the White Man gave the Indian alcohol and the result of that was history. Only now, Ben would add opioids to the list.

“Looks like a nice winter home.” And it looked new. He wasn’t up on his recreational camping equipment, but this looked like a thirty to forty-thousand-dollar model. The cousin made a nice win.

“It is, but my grandmother still cooks outside and grinds corn on a metate. See, there.” Nathan pointed to a spot just outside the door to the summer house. “And she’s working on a Two Grey Hills rug over there. She won’t work inside the trailer, says the light isn’t good.”

Or more likely, changing old ways wasn’t easy, Ben thought. The spirits that might dwell in an aluminum-sided camper trailer wouldn’t be the kind of old spirits that the rug would need in order to be in balance with nature. The sound of a whinny interrupted his thoughts.

“That’s Apache. He knows I’m home. Zac, come with me.” Nathan took off for a lone stand of trees next to a corral of rough-hewn boards. A lean-to propped up by several bales of alfalfa provided shelter and two horses hung their heads over the top railing of the fence, seeming to anticipate some petting.

“C’mon, Dad.” Zac hurried after Nathan.

“Apache is the buckskin.” Nathan had already climbed up on the fence and was stroking Apache’s neck. “This is Rain. He’s a grullo.” He pointed to the silver-gray horse with dark points and a dark dorsal stripe, the coloration on his legs was mottled with white stockings on his hind legs.

“I think I might have named him drizzle.” Ben said mostly to himself not meaning Zac to hear, but too late. Zac had already turned ‘dad’ into two syllables.

“Da-ad, Rain is a great name. He’s going to be my horse.”

“Okay, but Nathan, what’s a grullo?”

“His mother is a dun and his father is a black and white pinto. It’s a really special color. Plus, he won’t get too big because his mother is a Fjord—that’s a horse from Norway.”

Already Ben knew he was out of his element, but he did have one last question. “I’m curious, Nathan, why does Apache have a red ribbon braided into his tail? Any special meaning? Or just decoration?”

Nathan laughed. “Uh, you don’t do a lot of riding, do you?” Ben shook his head. Ponies were scarce in the Pueblo; growing up, all his friends wanted dirt-bikes. “Any time you see a horse with a red ribbon in his tail, it means he’s a kicker. Don’t walk around him too close and don’t ride your horse up behind him or you’ll both get kicked. Apache likes to cow-kick, you know, that sideways thrust that can cripple you—I mean like break a kneecap, it’s so fast and strong.”

Ben was developing a new admiration for the horse that was standing with its weight on three legs, fourth leg bent with a tip of the hoof barely touching the ground—relaxed to the point of dozing off. It was hard to imagine the horse was a kicker.

“Zac and I should get started back to camp.”

“Want me to follow you?”

“No, I’m going to show Zac around a little. We’re going to go up to the foothills. But I would like some help loading these bales of alfalfa onto your truck. And I don’t want to forget the mash and some brushes and their water buckets. I’ll just put the tack we’re going to need today out in the corral.”

Ben watched Nathan retrieve two saddles from the makeshift barn attached to the two open stalls, and in three trips, saddles, bridles and blankets were all positioned at one end of the fenced area. Ben moved the pickup around to the back of the corral, getting as close as he could to the stash of alfalfa before jumping out and lowering the tailgate.

“Nathan, I’m going to be snoopy. How old are you?” Ben watched him grab a sixty-pound bale and hoist it up onto the tailgate.

“Almost thirteen. I’m a year ahead in school. Miss Otter has promised to put me into the upper middle school group. There are three of us. Will Zac be starting school on Monday?”

“Yeah, Dad, can I?”

Ben hadn’t thought about it, but it might not be such a bad idea. It would give Zac some structure, and Ben would be free to do whatever needed to be done for Chief Billie. For six to eight hours out of the day, he wouldn’t have to wonder what the two boys were doing. “I don’t see why not. If enough kids might be interested, ask Miss Otter if she’d like me to set up a soccer field—that is, if there’s room. I wouldn’t mind getting in some coaching time.”

“That’s great.” Ben could tell Zac was thrilled. Even Nathan enthusiastically nodded.

“We need to get you some supplies. Nathan, do you know what Zac will need?”

“No problem. I always have extra. I’m sure I have enough. We’re supposed to have Wi-Fi this year; so, he’ll need a tablet. That’s maybe the most important thing.”

“Got one.”

“Sounds like you’re set.” Ben sighed. Just in case there were other supplies that Zac might need, he’d try to touch base with Miss Otter and double-check that Zac was prepared. It could be a great learning experience. He moved the pickup closer to the barn and helped Nathan load all the food and horse gear. Then Nathan led both horses out into the corral and Ben stood back to watch.

“I’ll saddle Apache first. Watch what I do and copy me. I’ll help if you need it.”

Both horses were wearing halters. Nathan snapped a lead rope in place then unbuckled Apache’s halter, slipping it back behind his ears to work as a collar around his neck. He fastened the end of the rope in a looping knot over the fence post. He warned Zac that it was important to have his horse tethered in place before saddling especially in a community barn or around others. So, next came the bridle, he started at the mouth, a thumb in the corner to get Apache to open and take the bit, then up and over his ears, putting the crown of the bridle over one ear at a time. Lastly, he buckled both straps—the throat latch and the strap across and under the nose.

Two saddles were propped on the ground and two brightly woven wool blankets had been thrown over the fence. Nathan handed Zac a saddle blanket, before putting one on Apache. Next, he picked up the saddle, set it on the horse’s back with one stirrup over the pommel along with a girth strap, the other girth strap hanging down the opposite side. He ducked under the horse and pulled the far strap to meet the strap closest to him before slipping the end through the buckle, tightening it by pulling back hard, his knee against the horse’s belly for leverage. Lastly, he adjusted the stirrups.

“Now, it’s your turn.”

Ben had to admit that Zac was good. He remembered everything; only the girth needed to be tightened. Nathan redid the strap by once again putting a knee against the horse and pulling hard, then he wiggled the saddle to test its stability.

“Done.” Nathan laced his fingers together palms up, bowed his arms and slightly leaned forward. Zac lightly stepped on the makeshift booster step and pushed off, grabbing the pommel and pulling himself into the saddle. A slight adjustment to the stirrups and they were ready to go.

“Good job. You could become a real Indian.” Nathan was grinning so no harm intended, Ben thought. And Zac was just as quick on the uptake.

“Yeah? Come to my house someday and learn how to kill a walrus. That’s real Indian stuff.” Both boys were laughing as they rode out of the yard.

Ben could hear Nathan continuing Zac’s riding lesson. “… you don’t want too much slack in the reins but don’t pull on his mouth either …” Finally, they were out of range, but it looked like the lesson was continuing. He watched Nathan bend forward explaining something about the bridle or, at least, that’s what it looked like.

Ben knew of all the fun things that he might think up to do on this vacation, Zac would put horseback riding and meeting Nathan first. And he couldn’t say that he blamed him. Good friends were to be valued. Ben started the truck and turned toward the road. He didn’t even turn back to watch the two boys ride in the opposite direction. He admonished himself to stop worrying. Kids everywhere learned to ride horses. And Zac had a private teacher. And a smart one, too. Kids needed to learn things on their own; they didn’t need helicopter parents. Of course, he’d decided all those things before he became a parent. Funny how reality put a new spin on things.

But he needed to get to work—get back to camp and talk with Trini before meeting with the government representative. There was a lot that he didn’t know. On the job training wasn’t going to work in this situation—preparedness, or simply having the upper hand, would be important.