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Leonida went and stood dutifully beside Carole, looking at the other women, one by one, until they received her silent message that they must follow her lead. Not saying anything, the women went to Carole and lifted her gently into their arms and began carrying her toward the cliff, everyone solemnly following.
After Carole was placed on the soft bed of grass, Leonida moved to her knees beside her, beckoned for Trevor to climb on her lap, and then quoted remembered scriptures from the Bible over his mother.
Everyone gazed at Sage as he then sang a song of his people over Carole, touching everyone’s heart with the gentleness of his voice and the translation of the words as he then sang it in the English tongue.
“Yonder in the north there is singing in the lake,” he sang softly. His mournful voice mesmerized those listening until he concluded.
“Haijiash-iye-beasdje, there beneath the sunrise we have our being.”
Tears streamed from Leonida’s eyes. She had never loved Sage any more than she did at this moment.
* * *
It was a fatiguing, scrambling climb, alleviated by the increasing growth of jack pine and spruce. Winded and hungry, Leonida sighed with relief when she realized that Sage’s stronghold was finally in view. Holding Trevor’s hand tightly, she followed a winding path under firs. The horses were being led by the warriors. Beside them the cliff fell away over a hundred feet. Below, the world was red in late sunlight, the distant hills streaked with purple, the opaque shadows like deep holes in the world.
Though her knees would scarcely hold her up any longer, Leonida continued placing one foot before the other. Trevor’s whines and his sluggish steps made her feel guilty that she could not carry him, but she was finding it difficult enough to hold herself up under such fatigue, much less carry a child. And Sage was too busy keeping his horse at bay along this narrow passageway to be able to help her.
“Tsanti-hogani-la-lo, yonder the hogan,” Sage suddenly said beside her.
Leonida sighed. Before her, shimmering in the heat, were many little groups of domed hogans built on a rock terrace and nestled against moderately high cliffs, with black spots of doorways that watched the canyon.
As she moved closer and could see more of the village, she noticed one especially tall building, two or three stories high, and decided that it was a watchtower. On the top of the building she could see a platform where sentinels stood. She could envision the Navaho fighters rolling stones down upon approaching enemies from that strategic position.
Leonida followed Sage from the narrow path onto a wide stretch of rock that led into the village. From this vantage point she could see some families cooking outdoors and eating under a roof of brush held up by posts to keep the sun off. Sheepskins with the wool side down were spread for tablecloths, and she could see that each member of the families dipped into one big dish with his own spoon.
“You see much about my people already,” Sage said, handing the reins of his horse to a young brave as he came running from the village with eager eyes.
Sage nodded to the boy to take the horse away, and Trevor seemed to come to sudden attention at the sight of the youngster, who seemed no less than his own age.
“Yes, and I’m intrigued,” Leonida said, her insides tightening with a fear she did not want to feel when the attention of the villagers soon turned toward them. Some were already running toward them, shouting a welcome to Sage and the warriors; others were more cautious upon seeing all of the white captives. They stopped and watched Leonida guardedly when they saw Sage’s attentiveness to her. They stood and waited for them to advance farther into the village.
Leonida tried to pretend that she didn’t notice how apprehensive Sage’s people were toward her. “Your houses are all different,” she said, sensing more and more eyes following her approach.
“Yes, each one is a little different. Our homes are called hogans,” Sage explained. “And we believe they are a gift from the gods, a place for the Navaho to take shelter, to eat and sleep and pray. We build them of mud and logs in a round shape to honor Father Sun, and the door always faces east to greet him first thing in the morning.”
Trevor tripped and fell to the ground. Sage just as quickly leaned down and swept him up into his arms, carrying him as people parted to make a path for them.
Sensing Leonida’s uneasiness, Sage continued talking softly to her to steady her nerves. “After we finish making a new hogan, we conduct a Blessing Way ceremony, asking all the spirits to make it a happy place. But if it is struck by lightning, we consider it cursed and abandon it. I think you will find the thick walls of my hogan keep it warm in winter and cool in summer.”
Leonida’s eyes widened when Sage grabbed her hand and stopped her. “This dwelling is Sage’s,” he said, nodding toward one of the largest hogans. “We will go inside. You will acquaint yourself with your new way of living. Later you will become acquainted with my people.”
Glad to be given the opportunity to get away from the staring eyes of the Navaho people, Leonida willingly moved toward the small opening in the hogan that was the door. She went inside with Sage, surprised to find that the hogan was adequate in size, with two rooms leading off from the main one.
Once inside, she found that the light filtered in mainly from the smoke hole in the center of the domed roof overhead, and there was a fire that was burning brightly near the center of the room, where a round pit was edged with stones.
Quickly she took in the scene. On the walls were hung blankets, saddles and an anvil as well as other tools.
“When you being to cook here, there will be kitchen utensils around the fire,” Sage explained. “And perhaps you will have a loom as well.”
By the fire, Leonida noticed a hearth brush made of yucca leaves. It was tied in the middle, with the blunt sides all at one end, the spiky ones at the other. The stiff butt ends served as a broom to sweep the hearth and floor; the spiky ends made a hairbrush.
The hogan was neat and cozy, the adobe walls and clay floors clean, smelling pleasantly of the sweet aroma of the yucca leaf.
“It is to your liking?” Sage said. Trevor too was at her side, clinging to her skirt as he gazed slowly around at what was most strange to him.
“I think it’s lovely,” Leon
ida murmured, turning a smiling face to him. “Although I have been lucky to live with luxuries, since my father was a wealthy cavalry officer, I find this home much more suitable than most settlers’ homes that I’ve seen.”
