Chapter 20

 

 

Nathan cooked the eggs that morning. He’d talked the Sisters out of some green chile, potatoes, and cheese and a half dozen flour tortillas. It was a skillet dish that his grandmother used to make and Zac loved it.

“This is better than Dad makes. You’ll have to fix it for him.”

“It’s easy. Want more juice?” He passed the carton to Zac. “I have an idea for today. There are three pastures about five miles north. Sheep graze the grass too close and need to be rotated to keep the pastures alive. I always take Apache and Rain up to whatever pasture is being used at least once a week. But I haven’t been able to treat them lately. Fresh food is good for them. Let’s take them up today. We may not have a lot of extra time after school starts.”

Nathan suggested they pack lunches. He promised Zac a surprise after they situated the horses. Two PB&Js each, chips, and bottled water were placed in a canvas bag and hung over the pommel of Nathan’s saddle. By now Zac could saddle Rain without help or even being checked. Rain stood still while being saddled, bowing his head to take the bit. Zac had won the horse’s trust by bringing him apple slices every day, and Zac was already wondering how he could leave his new friend when he returned to Alaska. A horse wasn’t exactly like a dog who would just jump in the back seat of a car and go wherever you went.

Today the horses were frisky—too much standing around in a small space. Zac told himself that from now on, he’d ride Rain every day even if only around the camp. But now, it didn’t take extra urging to bring Rain to a trot as they headed across the road. Nathan had taught Zac to post and this technique of rising up out of the saddle on every other stride made the normally teeth-jarring trot much smoother. But both horses wanted to stretch out into a gallop.

Rain with his shorter, stocky, pony legs couldn’t pass Apache; but he could keep up, nose to tail. Again, Nathan’s riding lessons came in handy. Zac relaxed, pressed his thighs against Rain’s sides, leaned slightly forward holding the reins somewhat loosely and enjoyed how quickly the pony could cover ground. Finally, Nathan reined Apache in somewhat against the horse’s will. But with only a little head-tossing, the horse settled into a walk.

“That was fun.” The wind in his face had felt good. Zac wished he’d grown up around horses. There was something so special about them.

“You’re getting good. I was afraid I’d have to scrape you up off the ground back there.” Nathan laughed as Zac made a face.

“How much farther till we get to the pasture?”

“You’re on pasture land now. There are over three million acres of open range on the Navajo Nation. “

“How many sheep do the Navajo have?”

“Over a hundred thousand. Probably closer to a hundred and fifty thousand, maybe two.”

“Sheep? How do you know all this?” Zac couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Last year our class project for Miss Otter was on the Navajo Nation. We studied our history—from the time of the Spanish to today. It was the Spanish who brought cattle and horses as well as sheep. A lot of families still keep sheep. My grandmother kept fifty Churro just for their fleece. Most of the year they were mixed in with my uncle’s flock. Some men in the community do nothing but tend to them year-round. People who have stock can get a grazing permit. But the land has caretakers, those who make certain that the land stays in balance. For example, it’s not overgrazed. You know, the BIA pretty much has control.”

“We have the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Alaska, but they don’t oversee sheep.”

“What do they do?”

“Make sure villages have supplies—like heating oil, building materials, fuel for highway equipment to fix the roads every year. A bunch of the villages that are right on the ocean need to be moved. They’re getting flooded by the ocean. Even the graveyards have to be moved before everything falls off into the water.”

“Wow. Your home is a different place than mine is. “

“Were the Navajo warriors?”

“When we had to be. We fought the Spanish but we also raided your dad’s tribe.”

“Pueblos?”

“Yeah, this was a pretty wild place to live. And the horse made us good at surprising the enemy. Did your people fight?”

“Maybe bears. It’s too cold to travel much. They spent time setting up villages and staking out fishing territory.”

“I’d like to visit someday.”

“Will you come with me when I go back to school in Washington?”

Nathan was quiet. “I don’t know. I think I’d like to. Do you like your school?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s really neat. You’ll like playing soccer and basketball. We were regional champs last year in the middle-school tournaments in basketball. I know you’d make the team.”

“Someday I want to work on computers—design games. I’d have to go to college to do that, I think. There’s probably some good colleges in Alaska or Washington. But no sheep? Not anywhere in Alaska?”

Zac was laughing. “No sheep, no horses, but lots of dogs.” He shared his mother’s experience racing in the Iditarod earlier that year and how his grandfather had been a well-known musher. “Think about it. We could have a lot of fun.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Then I want you to wear this.” Zac slipped a braided sinew bracelet from his wrist and handed it to Nathan. “This is ivalu, caribou tendons used to sew together the sealskin boats of whalers. They hunt the bowhead whales. Strong tendons, properly cured, will bring the boats home safely. My Auntie threaded these tiny shells into the braids saying the sea would always call to me no matter where I am. I would always be pulled back to the sea and my home. So, now maybe it will call to you.”

Nathan slipped it on his wrist, tightened it and looked at Zac. “I will visit your home someday. I think you’re right. This will make it happen.” He held out his arm and admired the white braiding and tiny white shells.

“How close are we to the upper pasture?”

“Maybe another two miles. We passed the first pasture and that kinda blends into the second pasture, and I don’t see any signs that a flock of sheep have even been through here. This pasture is half grown back. So, I guess we’ll need to go to the high pasture. It’s the best. It includes the foothills, not far from some ruins. There’s a swimming hole and caves—that was my surprise. We can have lunch and go swimming.”

The sun was almost straight overhead when they came to the high pasture. The upper grassland made up several thousand acres of its own and stretched in all directions with huge flocks of sheep busily grazing in the distance. Zac was amazed at the amount of land that Nathan called home. And everywhere he looked, it was green. Zac watched Nathan strip off his shirt and tie it around his waist. It was hot. The horses had broken out in a film of light sweat glistening on their necks with a dark, wet smear across their chests. Nathan urged Apache forward, expertly guiding the horse between two boulders and urging him up a slight incline. It was beginning to dawn on Zac that maybe Nathan wouldn’t like Alaska—the cold, the dark. But they could stay in Bellingham, at school. That would be better, but it was hard to imagine Nathan spearing salmon or skinning a seal. Still, it felt right to give him the bracelet. It might just work its magic on him.

“Let’s stay close to that stand of trees. We can put the saddles and tack in the shade and just let the horses run free. They won’t go far. Eating is all they want to do, and Apache will always come when I call.”

Nathan was right. The horses knew the drill. The minute they were free of saddles and blankets, they turned and trotted to a foot-high patch of grass and simply put their heads down and started munching.

“Horses are so picky.”

“What do you mean?” It looked to Zac like they were doing a good job of eating everything in sight.

“See all those weeds at the edge of the grass? A horse won’t touch them. Takes a goat to really clean up an area.”

“Do Navajo people have goats, too?”

“My grandmother did for a while. She even owned two milk cows.”

“We don’t have cows where I live either.”

Nathan laughed. “Maybe you should move down here with me.”

Zac didn’t say anything. He was missing his mom and he was really missing his friends from school. By now he should be having soccer practice with his teammates. But, most of all, he was missing Romo. The Alaskan Husky puppy was his best friend, and he looked forward to training him to sled. His mom was thinking of moving to Seattle and working in the city. She’d promised to rent a house with a yard for Romo so Zac could visit him on weekends. Besides, his father wouldn’t be staying in New Mexico after the pandemic was over. He’d be going back to Florida and Zac knew he wasn’t going to be ready for alligators and pythons.

“Hungry? Grab a sandwich.” Nathan handed him a bottle of water and motioned to the saddlebags.

“Thought I was going to starve.” Zac pulled out a bag of chips and a PB&J.

“After lunch we can go swimming and take a look at the ruins.”

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t believe his luck. Hidden in an outcropping of rock above the boys, he watched them eat lunch. They were alone. Wasn’t this exactly what he’d wished for? What he needed? The boys, separated from others, would in all likelihood fall into his trap. He could lure them there. It was time. The initiation into the Witchery Way must happen now. He felt his ancestors looking down. They approved. By the end of the day, the honor of becoming a Skinwalker would be bestowed on someone worthy of his family’s tradition.