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Chapter 1
The breeze is whispering in the bush,
And the dews fall from the tree.
All sighing on, and will not hush
Some pleasant tales of thee.
—JOHN CLARE
1881—The Arizona Territory
The sun was just rising behind the distant mountains. Billows of smoke were pouring from the smokestack of a train. rolling upward into the sky as the locomotive rumbled onward on new gleaming rails.
Stephanie Helton sat at the window of the train, gazing at the beauty of the landscape outside. Red buttes towered above the soft, gray-green sagebrush on the valley floor, and the endless sky was the only roof in sight.
Stephanie was a photographer for the Santa Fe Railroad and had traveled by rail many times, but never before had she felt such an anxiousness to arrive at her destination. She had developed a passionate interest in Indian culture after her stepbrother had spoken of his childhood friend so often.
“Adam?” she said. She turned her eyes from the window to look at her stepbrother, who sat across the aisle from her in their private car. “How can you remember Runner so vividly? You were only five when you last saw him. Surely your recollections are not as accurate as you make them to be.”
Adam took a cigar from between his lips and smiled over at Stephanie. “I remember quite well all about my friend, who is now sometimes called the White Indian,” he said. His smile faded into a frown. “Trevor was his real name. He was my best friend when we lived at Fort Defiance. Our friendship became even closer when we were taken captive by the Navaho. I’m sure we would still be loyal friends had his mother not died. When she did, everything changed.”
Eager to know more, Stephanie moved closer, into the seat closest to the aisle. “Tell me more, Adam,” she said, running her fingers through her hair, drawing it back from her face. “I know you must tire of telling me about your experiences with the Navaho, but I don’t. I’ll be among them soon, myself. The more I know, the better it will be for me. I’m determined to photograph them, but I must draw them into accepting me first. So tell me, Adam, how your friend’s name was changed from Trevor to Runner, and how it was that he adapted to the changes so quickly.”
Tall and long-legged, Adam shifted in the small seat. He drew a gold watch from his pocket, studied the time, then slipped it back inside his pocket.
“We should be arriving soon,” he said somberly, “where the work gang is laying the rails closer and closer to Fort Defiance. My dream come true: my new spur. I’m glad Father and the rest of the Santa Fe shareholders allowed me to have my private spur to Fort Defiance, but I’ve got to go farther into Navaho territory. I want a town all my own. I want it to have my name.”
He paused, then feeling impatient eyes on him, turned his gaze to Stephanie. “All right,” he said with a grumble, “I’ll tell you more about my experience while I was held captive in the Navaho stronghold with the others from the stagecoach attack, even though you must have heard this all before.”
He paused again and looked at his stepsister. “It was because of someone like you that everything changed for Trevor,” he said thickly. “As I recall, Leonida was as beautiful and alluring.” He kneaded his chin thoughtfully. “But that was as far as the resemblance went. She was tall and willowy; you are petite. Her hair was golden; your hair shines like copper wire in the sun.”
“Oh, Adam,” Stephanie said with a deep sigh. “Will you go on with the story instead of comparing me with another woman? What on earth does that have to do with anything?”
“It’s because of Leonida’s loveliness that Sage, the Navaho chief, took captives from the stagecoach, and Trevor became involved with the Navaho,” Adam said, closing his eyes, recalling it now as though it was being reenacted before him. “Leonida was also one of the captives. The day that Trevor’s mother died, Leonida took him under her wing. From that point on, everything for Trevor changed, for soon after, he also became a part of Sage’s life. When Leonida and Sage fell in love and were married in a Navaho ceremony, Trevor became their adopted son.”
“It was then that his name was changed?”
“No, it was a short time later. Sage named Trevor Runner because of his ability to run so fast, after Trevor outran all of the Navaho and white children in foot races.”
“You do remember it well, don’t you, Adam?” Stephanie said, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Is it painful to recall? Were the Navaho cruel to you?”
“They were never cruel,” he said, patting her hand. “In fact, I believe it’s because of their kindness that I’m able to remember everything as though it happened only yesterday.
It was an interesting experience. I shall never forget it. And Runner? Hopefully soon our friendship can be rekindled.”
