Children of the Sunrise Home Page
Chapter 16
Ferns and other semitropical plants bobbed in the fine mist and peeked out from behind pearly stalactites that dripped like icicles in the midst of a spring thaw. At the base of the fall, one colossal stalagmite had grown from the floor and towered fifty feet above the pool almost touching the collapsed ceiling of the cave. At its peak it met an impossible formation of stalactites that looked like pipes from some subterranean Gothic organ.
"It only breathes fire like this during the peak of the day. Soon, the sun will be blocked by the cliffs and `Uzzen's Keep" must live with the half light reflected from the rocks above." As he spoke, James Purcival looked wistfully at the brilliant display. His chiseled features reflected the wonder he must have felt as a child when he first witnessed the phenomenon.
He had undergone a radical transformation since I had last seen him. Gone was the silk suit and the gold watch. He was dressed in what I assumed was traditional Apache clothing, a long breech cloth with a belt made of silver discs, each sporting a fragment of turquoise. He wore no shirt and his well muscled legs disappeared at the knee into laced leather moccasins made of what must have been deer hide. The top of the moccasins were folded down on themselves forming little pockets. He wore a headband of a patterned red cloth and around his neck was a leather thong bearing a irregular flattened disc that was stamped with a symbol I didn't recognize.
"The cave system is quite extensive. This fall is the only substantive opening but there are a number of smaller entrances. The stream that feeds the fall is fed by a deep aquifer. It has never run dry as long as my people have come here. Over the years, it must have cut the bottom of the ravine above to the point that it finally broke through the ceiling of this high chamber. When my Grandfather first brought me here as a child, the hole was perhaps ten feet smaller. Every year, the opening gets a little wider. We worry that eventually it will be large enough to attract attention from people flying by. That would not suit us. This place has been our secret for a very long time...a very closely guarded secret."
There was steel in his eyes when he said "...very closely guarded...". I shivered. This man was not the elegant and cultured businessman I had met at St. Maddy's. There was something primitive, something that emoted a barely concealed violence in his manner.
Nam, the little Vietnamese boy who had left Houston early with Purcival, stood a little to my left. He was holding hands with Joey and Dusty. His eyes were closed and he spoke in a slow, faraway voice.
"There are listeners here...they have been waiting." The three children seemed to be in some sort of common trance. Their heads and upper torsos weaved in unison like fingertips on a Ouija board. As I watched their cryptic dance, I felt a shudder starting at the base of my spine. Icy fingers ran up my back. I jumped and whirled around, believing for a second that something substantial had touched me from behind. I couldn't tell if my sudden start had scared everyone else or whether the rest of the people in the room had felt the same thing. The kids cried out and James Purcival dropped to a fighting crouch. We huddled together, looking nervously about for a few seconds until Dusty spoke in a hoarse whisper.
"They're gone...they just wanted us to know they were here...and that they were waiting for us."
"Who's gone Dusty?" This was spooky. My nerves weren't up to playing lead in a Stephen King novel. Dusty just shook her head. Nam and Joey plopped on the ground like someone had pulled their plugs. I turned to Purcival. "What's going on here James? What's happening. I know I felt something."
He looked as alarmed and confused as I felt. "I don't know Tom. I felt it too...cold, like ice." He fingered the talisman on his chest nervously muttering something about evil spirits.
I felt a little hand reaching for mine and looked down into the big eyes of the little healer. "They hate somebody, Ucca Tom...but not us. They won't hurt us and maybe we can take them to the light." She smiled up at me and somehow, I felt a lot better. "They're not bad..they're just scared." She walked over to Purcival, leaned up against his leg and jerked on his breech cloth. "I'm hungry an I gotta pee." Ripples of agreement ran through the kids as the tension broke.
He looked down at her plaintive face, then around at the group of children who accompanied us. His face broke into that handsome smile that had so inspired my jealousy a few days before and waved them over to his side. "This is a holy place to my people. We say this is Uzzen's keep, the last stronghold the great spirit Uzzen has prepared for us so that the N'de will not vanish from the face of the earth. I welcome you as members of our clan." His face clouded with that statement. I wondered if his clan welcomed us as much as he did. "You will stay here and make this place your home until it is safe to leave." He reached down and put his hand on the head of the little healer. "Come little brujo, bring your friends. We will have some food." With a chorus of excited squeals, they fell in line and followed him out of the cavern.
I walked over to where Joey and Nam still sat on the limestone floor. "Come on boys, let's go get some vittles." I picked them up like two sacks of potatoes, threw them over my shoulders, deaf to their laughing protests and followed the others out of the room. At the passage, I turned and looked back at the waterfall. Only the water at the very top was golden. The room had become dim and shadowy as the sun passed behind the ledges of the ravine above.
"Look," said Nam "Uzzen's going away."
"Uh Uh," corrected Joey, "He's just turning out the lights."
"Yeah," decided Nam "I guess if he left the sun there all the time we'd never get to sleep." That seemed to settle it. I put the boys down and as we caught up with the others, I heard Joey ask his friend.
"Hey Nam, you think God knows Uzzen, maybe they're brothers, cause my friend says..." I lost the rest of the conversation to the tramping of footsteps but I could tell it was about to get heavy.
I remembered something I had read in a book Willa had given me for my birthday a couple of years back. It was a book that was filled with children's letters to God. One five year old had asked...
Dear God,
The last two days had been harrowing. We had driven well into New Mexico the night of the President's speech. We made it through Carlsbad alright but as we turned west towards Cloudcroft, the roads just got narrower and steeper. Willa and I took turns driving but even so, the tension of the last few days and the rigors of the long drive had taken their toll. By the time we reached the meeting place near Lincoln National Forest, I was feeling like a wolverine on dexadrine. The kids had been up and down a number of times, each time grumpier and more impatient than the last and Jubie was flatulent to the point that even Joey was groaning and threatening to make him ride in the bed of the truck. There was no room for him in the pickup bed but if it hadn't been for the fact that there was no place to pull off the road, I probably would have tied him to the tailgate with bungee cords.
It didn't do anything for my attitude when Purcival with two very surly looking Indians sporting shotguns met us about four in the morning and told us we would have to find another place to go. The N'de had decided the children of the white eyes were not welcome on the reservation.
Purcival looked exhausted and sullen. "The fools do not understand Mr. Bowie. Grandfather and most of the old ones sided with me. They had read the signs but the tribal leaders act like old women. They are too afraid of the white man." I arched my eyebrows. He saw my look but was too angry to care if he had offended me or not. He turned to walk away.
"Are you telling me we have no place to go?" It was 4 A.M. I was cold. My nerves were frazzled. I didn't need this crap. "We drove all the way here from Houston with fifty kids and this stinking zoo full of animals (Jubie's special presence still hung in my nose) and you're telling me we have no place to go. What the hell is going on here Purcival!"
So fast I had little time to react, he spun on his heels and slammed both his palms against my chest. I lost my balance and fell back against one of the vans. All my well oiled pacifism went out the window. I had been wanting to paste him ever since the first time I saw him with Jessie. I made some comment about his maternal ancestry, bounced off the van and went after him. He moved like a cat. Ducking under my charge, he threw out his left leg and tripped me. I'm not much of a street fighter but I've got long arms and I'm fast for my size. As I fell I grabbed his shoulder and using his braced body as a counterweight, spun myself around, caught him around the neck with my other hand and brought him over my chest onto the pavement. We both hit the ground hard. His left elbow slammed into my solar plexus and I felt the air rush out of my lungs. Gasping for breath, I tried to scramble to my feet but something that felt like a set of furniture clamps grabbed my arms and pinned them to my side. I struggled in a red fury but couldn't get any oxygen and almost blacked out.
As my vision cleared, I realized that John Sr. had grabbed me from behind. Purcival was bent over on the ground holding his head. He was yelling at the two stocky Indians who were waving their shotguns at us nervously. He motioned for them to stop and said something in a language I didn't understand. Sam Glennon stood behind the door of his van with Officer Wizenhunt's revolver in his hand. I realized I had ignited a powder keg with my stupid tirade and quietly told John I was okay. His grip let up a little. He walked around in front of me still holding my biceps and looked into my eyes. After he was sure I had cooled off, he let me go and I stepped towards James Purcival.
"I'm sorry man. That was stupid. I guess I lost it." I put out my hand and offered to help him up.
He looked as chagrined as I felt. "Yeah Tom, me too. I guess I've been walking a little to close to the edge." He gripped by hand and looked up at me grinning. "Hey, you're pretty fast for a white man." I could see dark stains all over his hand. He must have hit his head in the fall. He was bleeding pretty bad. I felt terrible. Martin Luther King must have been turning over in his grave.
I pulled him over into the headlights of the van and yelled for Mary Glennon. "Jeez James, I'm sorry. Look what I did. You got a dent in your noggin'." I shook my head. "You ought to know not to get in the way when I start falling down. That's why they wouldn't let me play pro ball. They said I was all elbows and knees and If I fell over, it might hurt some of the real athletes." Mary came running up with her bag and pushed me out of the way none too nicely. She let loose a barrage of acid comments about grown men acting like little children. Dusty capped off our humiliation by correcting Mary's choice of metaphors.
"Their not acting like kids Miss Mary. I don't hurt my friends." She glared at the two of us. "There acting like grumps." James and I hung our heads.
While Mary patched James' forehead, he told us what had happened on the reservation. "The place that Nam and Joey talked about, the place with the cave and the waterfall, is not known to most of the tribe. Only a special group of elders, committed to preserving the life of the warrior N'de know of its existence. The site is not on the reservation. The secret has been kept for over a 120 years. It is death to reveal its location, even its existence to anyone..." He looked up at me with a shy smile. "...especially a white man."
My face burned with shame. Here the man was putting his life on the line for us and I could only support him with anger and impatience. I started to apologize again but he waved it away.
"My grandfather is a senior member of that group of elders. I had kept him abreast of what was going on in Houston. It was he that decided the children should come here. He had a medicine vision. He says that the children will bring back the greatness of the people. He says the old chiefs will return and break the hold of the white eyes and return to us our ancestral lands." He winced as Sarah scrubbed the cut on his head and started the first of his three stitches. She was still angry. "Some of the people agree with my grandfather. Some do not." His eyes went cold. "They are led by a man named Sam Ayachala. He is wealthy and has much power among the Mescalero. He does business with the white man and does not want to offend them. He does not believe in the old religion. He taunts the old medicine in private, then turns around and uses it to put fear in the hearts of the people." His voice sounded bitter. "He and my grandfather are enemies."
"Ayachala is a dangerous man. I brought these two," He pointed his thumb at the two Apaches. "...because I cannot be sure what he will do. There is much unrest on the reservation just as there is in the cities. The children run free. Many have run off to the wild. A bear killed a man just yesterday as he searched for his children. The people are afraid. They fear witchcraft." He winced again as Mary pulled the last stitch tight. "Sam Ayachala is an opportunist. He will use the confusion to acquire more power if he can. Grandfather is talking to the elders in secret, now. He champions our cause and argues that since the tribal leadership has closed the reservation to the children, the secret way must be opened to them. He has told them of the children's vision. He tells them that Uzzen calls them to his keep."
He bowed his head. I began to understand the pain that had driven him to attack me. He looked up at us. "I am your friend. I have sworn to protect the children...but I am also N'de. I cannot take you to Uzzen's keep until the elders decide."
James and the two Mescaleros led us a few miles down the road to a campsite just off the main road. Everyone was too exhausted to set up camp. We just pulled out sleeping bags and slept on the damp ground. Variety, Mary and Sister Willa had each taken time to dress us down, Mary with a mother's guilt, Willa with the word of God and Variety with a razor tongue and acid wit.
Two outcasts, hiding from the lectures and critical looks, James and I threw down our bags away from the others. We grew closer as we lay on the pine needles and talked. I told him I was jealous of his relationship with Jesse and he allowed that he wished I had something to be jealous about. We laughed. He asked if I knew I was the luckiest man in the world and I said I did. We listened to the sounds of the dark mountainside, talked about our childhood dreams of being great hunters, how we loved the wild, how we loved the children. Once I told the truth about my jealousy, it went away. Underneath it I found a great admiration and sympathy for the man. The more we talked, the more we found in common. At one point, he reached up and wiped some of the seeping blood from the bandage off on his hand. He grabbed my wrist with his other hand, then, looking me straight in the eyes, he gripped my palm hard with his bloody fingers.
"We are brothers in this Tom Bowie" he said. "We stand together."
I never had a brother. I liked it. We didn't fall asleep until first light began to filter through the blinking leaves of the aspens to the east. Then we closed our eyes with the fading sparkles of the New Mexican stars. It was the culmination of a childhood dream. I was blood brother to an Apache brave. If only Roy Rogers could see me now. I felt young and alive, not some forty year old ex-jock with a spreading waste and a trick knee, but vital, a born again hero, like I was back saving Annie Oakley again. I think James liked having a blood brother too. It was hard to tell. He was snoring.
