“With his grandfather and father while they were still alive, and then with me. My mother never learned to speak it, although she could understand most of it. The other tribal elders ignored it, they were having a hard-enough time keeping their own Navajo language alive with the young people.”
Nick looked over at her with a bit of a look of wonder in his eyes. “From what I understand, Nahuatl is not an easy language to master. Neither is Navajo. But you grew up bi-lingual with both, so that I understand. But your English is impeccable, I just heard you speak Zuni, what else do you have up your sleeve?”
“When I tested for university, I found I had a real gift for language. I didn’t even know I had it, it just was. My undergraduate advisor said I was a phonetic prodigy, that I should go even further in my studies, but I wanted to help my people, not languish in a classroom. The language isolates, those languages that are unrelated to any other like Zuni, are a little more work to learn. But they are rare, most of the rest are spin offs of something else somewhere down the line, like the romance languages to Europeans. If you know one, you have the keys to the next, and then the next in turn. Like you, I like to solve puzzles. Yours are abstract in time and place, mine are abstract in people and communication. If you asked me, I think we make a pretty good team, because underneath it all we both seek the same thing. Truth.”
The afternoon was sweltering, the heat reflecting off the asphalt pavement and distorting the horizon, the stifling breeze through the truck offering little relief. They didn’t want to close the back of the front cab off because Nanook would get little air flow, so they drove with the side windows cracked and the air conditioning on full. After a couple of hours they stopped and gassed up, Nick adding the obligatory quart of oil, Nanook marking some virgin territory. When they found a hose off the side of the gas station, they sprayed the wolf down until he was drenched, which perked him back up a bit. A glance at an old map thumb tacked to the wall showed the Gila River ran by where they were going, and the irresistible idea of taking a swim took hold. Just a few hours more.
By late afternoon the heat was finally breaking, and Soba used Nick’s cell phone to locate the best part of the river for a dip. His phone was newer and more powerful than hers, although she had some difficulty in initially figuring it out.
“Why are smart phones so stupid?” she finally exclaimed in exasperation.
“Sure it’s the phone?” Nick grinned.
After driving since the early morning from Hawikuh, they were both relieved to finally pull over for the day. The bend of the river Soba selected was a little off the beaten path, and as the turn off to a dirt road eventually became more of a path, Nick put the Chevy in four-wheel drive and slowly crept down it. They pulled up around a corner, and a glistening bend in the river spread out before them. Here the water slowed slightly, the encroaching hills blanketed by ponderosa pines, the banks giving way to shorter piñon pine and scrub brush, ending in a pebbled stretch of sand.
Soba immediately started to gather edible pine nuts and scattered berries. Nick opened the tailgate so Nanook could get out, and he stood stiffly on the edge, sniffing his new surroundings. Nick gave him a swat on the rump, and he took off with a bound to explore the perimeter as Nick pulled out some camping gear.
“Baa shił hózhǫ́!” Soba shouted, translating roughly to about me there is joy. Nick looked up, and saw her clothes strewn in a trail leading to the river, a brief glimpse of her naked figure diving gracefully into it.
“Yeah, that’s a great idea,” he excitedly yelled, and ran toward the water. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his shirt, and wiped out as he tried to peel off his shorts, his feet tangled in them. Soba watched it all from the water and giggled as he tried to maintain his dignity, with little success. The new bloody scrape mark on his buttock mirrored the black and blue one Charlie had snapped into him a few days—or was it a lifetime—ago. He stood on the water’s edge, looked at Soba, and shrugged as if to say, “It’s all I’ve got,” and dove into the river.
“Graceful disrobe and dismount, you never fail to impress a girl,” Soba mewed as she tread water, holding her position in the gentle current.
Nick swam to her, touched noses, and added, “I notice it’s not just my ego that seems to take a beating around you.”
They kissed eagerly, twisting in the current, drifting downstream until Nick’s feet touched the murky bottom.
“So what song will you serenade me with tonight, Nick LaBounty?” Soba asked softly in her sing song cadence.
Nick was about to reply, but felt something bump his calf, and then his thigh. He let Soba go and jumped back when something hit his nether regions. “What the hell is that?” he yelped.
Soba had been staring into the water, put both her hands slowly under the surface, and then lunged completely into it.
“That’s dinner,” she said as she emerged, holding a fat catfish tightly in her hands. “Pucker up buttercup, kiss it for good luck!”
She chased Nick out of the water with it, giggling until he relented and she planted the catfish’s mouth and whiskers on his lips. “Thank him for the nourishment he provides, some day it will be our turn to return the favor.”
“Great, I am really looking forward to being worm food,” Nick chuckled.
“What was it I heard a white priest say at a funeral I attended, ashes to ashes, dust to dust? That’s not so far from what we believe, we all eventually have our turn,” she replied.
Nick smiled at her, watched as she went over and placed stones in a circle, then gathered wood for a fire. He was a modest man, not used to being naked outdoors except for the occasional skinny dip. He looked at her, completely at ease in her own skin, utterly unconcerned about her nakedness, wearing only silver and turquoise earrings. He found he felt comfortable around her, his own preconceptions and hang-ups about a lot of things somehow melting away.
Soba walked up behind Nick and started rubbing something gently on his scraped hip. “What is that?” he asked.
Soba put a dab on his nose. “Piñon pine salve. It will help you to heal quicker.”
As they started to cook, Nick slipped back into his shorts, naked for as long as he could stand it. He caught Soba smiling and staring at him and said, “Thought I would dress up for dinner.”
“You’re a good sport, you lasted longer than I thought you would,” she jabbed back, and pulled a long, loose fitting black gauze dress over her head.
As was becoming usual, the meal was outstanding. Simply prepared, with wild accompaniments Nick didn’t even know were edible, they both ate their fill. And it didn’t escape his attention that when Soba had handed him his plate, the head of the catfish was in the middle, looking up at him with long whiskers that draped over the edges.
“Pucker up,” she laughed.
“Buttercup,” he replied.
There were two 50-pound bags of dog food in the back of the truck, but Nick noticed Soba had yet to use them. Nanook seemed perfectly capable of providing for himself when in the wilderness, but he tossed him the fish head anyway.
The sun set over the river, the reflections shimmering in the gentle current. Soba went to the truck and brought back the guitar to Nick, and started gently dancing around the fire, like the first time he had seen her dance. Her arms gracefully moving about her, her hips rhythmically swaying. She playfully asked, “What song strikes you as appropriate for tonight?”
Nick watched her, her movements in and out of the firelight, the sparks rising, the darkness falling, an ephemeral moment. The inspiration hit him. “Got it,” he finally said.
A few practice chords, then he broke into a song that had made Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac famous, a song about a witch, love, desire, and fleeting moments. Soba immediately shouted, “You’re kidding, that’s what my roommate in college used to call me!” She loved the song Rhiannon, knew every word, and sashayed her long black sleeves and hair to the acoustic beat, singing the refrain with Nick as she twir
led around and around him.
She is like a cat in the dark and then
She is the darkness
She rules her life like a fine skylark
And when the sky is starless
All your life you’ve never seen
A woman taken by the wind
Would you stay if she promised you heaven?
Will you ever win?
Will you ever win?
Rhiannon, Rhiannon
Nick took a few more song requests from her, and then with a mischievous smile Soba grabbed the guitar away and put it carefully on the front seat of the Chevy. Grabbed by the belt, Nick followed her and climbed onto the air mattress in the back of the pickup. She smelled like the first time he met her, all piñon pine, desert herbs, and smoky hair. When they felt a heavy thud on the truck, they both peered up and saw Nanook with his two front paws on the tailgate, staring back, ready to play. They laughed and pulled the sleeping bag over them, anxious to get to the bottom of at least one mystery this night.
Later they lay resting in one another’s arms, the rising tension of the past days finally finding its release. Soba softly hummed Rhiannon, and couldn’t help singing the refrain, “Dreams unwind, love’s a state of mind.” They lay intertwined and listened to the sounds of the night, staring out the back at the fading fire, the moon slowly working its way across the endless blanket of stars, until they drifted off to a blissful sleep.
When morning came, Nick rolled over and saw Soba open her eyes and look back at him, a gentle smile on her face, the taste of wild berries in her kiss.
“Funny, somehow you know the songs that bare my soul. I guess that’s fair, since I can see into yours,” Soba said softly.
It took him a moment to focus, to see that something was different, and then he realized what it was. She had deep, dark green, jade colored eyes. He blinked hard and stared and felt like two luminous emeralds were looking back at him.
Soba saw the confusion on his face. “Colored contact lenses. Remember I said my tribe thought I was different? I couldn’t hide my height, but I could hide my green eyes. There were only so many ways I could try to blend in.”
Her dark, almost black eyes had captivated him. But these were something else entirely. “They’re stunning, why couldn’t they just let you be who you are?” Nick asked, feeling defensive for her against a past he couldn’t protect her from.
“My dad and his forefathers before him, going back hundreds of years, were all shamans, and yet outcasts. We Diné are a superstitious people, and those who are different, like with green eyes or physically taller, they were considered loco, useful but never quite embraced, the crazy medicine men. Not all of my forefathers had green eyes, but enough did to cause trepidation in the greater tribe. So when I came of age and grew taller than the boys, all I could do to try to fit in was change my eyes.”
“Did your father have green eyes?” Nick asked, unable to take his off of hers.
“No, so perhaps that in its own way made it harder for me. The younger kids had never seen them, and you know how cruel kids can be. But the elders remembered, they never let us forget anything.”
“Well do me a favor, would you? Around me and away from the tribe, skip the contact lenses. I want an unobstructed view into your soul.”
Chapter 24 – Morning, June 25
Killian Yudhisthir, how the hell are you?” Nick asked as he embraced his long-lost friend, both of them immediately laughing and punching one another.
“Soba, I want you to meet Kill Devil, I mean Killian, a dear friend of mine from college days.”
Killian offered his hand, but Soba ignored it and gave him a hug too. “Any friend of Nick’s is a friend of mine,” she said warmly. “You both look like you’ve been up to no good. So how exactly did you two meet?”
“Introduction to Archeology with old man Laing. We got paired up on a field project, and I could never get rid of him,” Killian replied, laughing. “Not that I wanted to, those were some fun years running with this guy.”
“So how did you end up here, of all places?” Soba inquired.
“Ultimately, I felt the pull of wanting to learn how to preserve the history of my people and this area, and archeology seemed the best path to it. So I work for the Park Service here, building up the collection for the museum and interpreting and preserving the dwellings you see.”
“What Killian isn’t telling you is what a hell raiser he was. That’s where the Kill Devil comes from. But that isn’t what is most interesting about this wild man. Tell her about your lineage buddy, and the meaning of your name. You two have a few things in common,” Nick said.
“Not that much to tell. You go back far enough, a little Irish girl got kidnapped by my tribe, the Chiricahua Apache. Lots of that going on as the sod busters pushed west. She was adopted and raised by them, and down the line you get me. Irish name and a little Irish blood in an Apache body. All good except I sunburn like the blazes and like whiskey!” he said, slapping Nick on the back and cackling with his infectious laugh. “Yudhisthir is Apache for ‘Firm in Battle.’ I know Nick’s story,” he said, faking a yawn. “What’s yours?”
Soba looked at Nick with an upraised eyebrow, and then turned to Killian. “Soba is short for Altsoba, Navajo for ‘At War.’ If I remember correctly, a lot of that was fighting the Apache. I also have devoted my life to my people, specifically by preserving their languages and traditions. Through some quirk of fate we both somehow ended up attached to this guy.”
“Ha, sounds more like fate is a cruel mistress, if you asked me. C’mon, let me show you the lay of the land.”
Soba looked at Nick and grinned. “Or the gods have a twisted sense of humor.”
There were many ruins in the area, but Killian proudly showed them around two of the major sites. The first was five cliff dwellings interconnected by natural caves above the aptly named Cliff Dweller Canyon. They climbed and crawled through the impressive shelters, Killian narrating and providing remarkable insight, Nick asking questions and taking pictures. The second site he showed was called the TJ Ruins, named for a former rancher the greater sprawling mesa was named after. It was perched on a bluff overlooking the Gila River below. When Nick caught a glimpse of the river, he nudged Soba and said, “Care to go for a skinny dip later?” Her eyes sparkled as she replied, “Only if we don’t get caught.”
“Amazing what they built here,” Killian observed. “My Apache ancestors wandered into the area after it had been abandoned. The scientific community is still trying to definitively determine why this and so many other similar locations were vacated during about the same timeframe. Let me show you the museum, it contains both Mogollon and Apache artifacts.”
After walking them through, Killian pulled both Nick and Soba aside and whispered, “Did you know there were mummies found here? Most were looted and sold to private collectors. But in 1912 another was found and put in the Smithsonian, where it sits to this day. And you know what is even cooler? I found one last month. Very unusual since this area has all been so well explored. But it was hidden in one of the connecting caves I was exploring, purposely tucked into a crack and concealed with stone to make a false wall, which eventually crumbled. Want to see it?”
“Are you kidding? I’d love to!” Nick said a little too loudly in his excitement.
Killian put a finger to his lips and gave a conspiratorial grin and led them down to the end of a hallway to a locked door that said, ‘Park Service Employees Only.’ He fiddled with a key and got it opened, turned on a light switch and led them in. Bathed in cold florescent light, he pulled back a tarp and revealed a large plastic container, and then carefully removed the lid. Checking the hygrometer for a humidity reading he said, “Meet John Doe, or as we’re calling him, the Misplaced Padre.”
Nick and Soba peered closer, looking at the naturally mummified remains of a man with his knees drawn up to his chest, with his arms crossed, as if in a sitting position. A woven bag was around him, tho
ugh badly decayed and showing what was underneath. It was evident why Killian called him Padre, as he was wearing the coarse dark tunic of the order. And clasped in his hands were a cross and chain made of silver.
“This is an incredible find, remarkably well preserved. But why would a Spanish missionary, or whoever he was, be preserved here, hidden in a place sacred to the tribes? And what will you do with him?” Nick asked.
“Good questions. As of yet we don’t know how he got here. Right now my job is to make sure to stabilize him and thoroughly examine the area around where I found him. Have to establish proper provenance, you know the drill. It was important to get him out of there once found, the looting has only become more endemic, so we’re keeping this hush hush for now. They’re sending a forensic archeologist down from Albuquerque to examine him in more detail. I suspect they will x-ray and CAT scan him before all is said and done. Maybe I can find something we can carbon date too.”
As Nick and Killian wandered away talking, Soba leaned over the table and gently put her hand on the head of the mummy. As Nick glanced back at her, her eyes were closed, and she was silently reciting something to herself, some type of incantation. Killian noticed it too and stopped talking to listen and looked at Nick questioningly.
“There is more here than meets the eye. He is part of a greater something, he has a story to tell across time. I don’t know what it is, but I can sense it,” Soba said when she opened her eyes and looked back in their direction. “And somehow I am tied into this.”
Nick clapped Killian on the back. “She is a tribal shaman, with both Aztec and Navajo roots. It’s a long story. But if I’ve learned anything about Soba, it is that she can see into things no one else can, and to trust her intuition.”
Nick snapped a few photos on his phone of the mummy, with a couple of close-ups including the cross he held. Then they took Killian out to meet Nanook and say goodbye.
Aztec Odyssey Page 18