I took a few steps. My head began to spin. Snow swirled around me. I fell, face down into white-turned-black.
When I came to, Taninto carried me on his back. Little Pup ran alongside, yelping at both of us. I closed my eyes and let him carry me across the field, even though he struggled over each new furrow.
He sat me down on a boulder. Blood splotched his back. He squatted and leaned against a tree growing from the rock. No one said anything, even Little Pup. I wanted to lie down with the comfort of her in my arms and sleep.
“It is not far now,” he said and stood. “Do you want me to carry you?”
“No, I can walk,” I said, not certain I could.
He led us across a stream and followed it as it fell farther into a deepening valley. Boulders shaped the bluff and filled the valley below. His path followed a ledge between the two.
Trickling and sparkling between the rock and boulders, the stream tumbled down through the valley. On the other side, snow still lay in a thick blanket, but on our path, most of it had melted. My guide stayed far ahead but never out of sight.
He stopped when I did, once venturing a few paces back to ask if I needed help. Little Pup remained always at my side. The trail turned steeper.
“I am going ahead to scout the valley,” he shouted. “Stay on the path. I will be back.”
“Do not worry, Little Pup,” I said as she watched him over her shoulder. “We have each other.”
Not far down the path, it turned to worn steps winding down to the valley floor. The narrow valley lay open and flat with more rocks and boulders than trees. Across it, I could see another stream. I followed the path to where they joined. Back up the other stream, Taninto gathered firewood. Behind him, the streambed circled to the left, following the curve of a long bluff formed from solid rock. A single boulder, as tall as any tree about, blocked the view of what lay upstream. I had seen large boulders along Tick Creek, but they seemed small compared to this giant.
A distant rumble mingled with the fast-flowing stream. With several pieces of firewood under his left arm, Taninto motioned to us. The sound grew louder. The bluff curved tighter, and the stream widened into a pool. Like the inside of a water bottle, the bluff hung out over the pool, curving up and back to form a lip. The rumble beckoned me on.
“Nanza, this way,” he called, leading us around the huge boulder. Another stood just as large but still clutched within the hillside. Taninto climbed into the space between the two giants. I handed Little Pup to him and pulled myself up.
The rumble soared between the boulders up to the blue sky stretched between their tops. To my left, water oozed out of cracks and trickled down toward an opening at the other end where Taninto waited.
He did not retreat as I walked toward him. The space between the boulders opened up to the pool I had seen from the other side. The bluff wrapped around it and folded into the hillside to form a natural shelter over the rocky shore that lay below me.
Above the pool, water rushed over the rim of the bluff in two streams, twisting back on each other to fall as one with a great unwavering roar. “Two-Falls-One,” he said. “It is called Two-Falls-One.”
The sight, the sounds, the wonder of it all emptied my thoughts and smothered my fears. I stood, captured. When I turned from the falls, Grandfather had climbed down to the pool and was building a fire on the shoreline. I carried Little Pup down.
“There is plenty of wood and food for you ... and the dog,” he said. “I will bring more tomorrow.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“The bleeding will stop after a day or two.” He climbed back up between the boulders.
I followed behind him. “What will I do? My stomach hurts.”
“Stay here. Let Two-Falls-One renew you. Let its waters cleanse and heal you.”
“It is too loud!” I shouted.
“Do not listen with your ears. Listen with your spirit. Feel the vibration that flows from the falls to the earth, around the bluff, and between the great boulders. Open yourself. Listen to the healing songs, feel the vibration of Two-Falls-One.” He backed out and down the opening.
As I turned, I began to notice the bones, colored rocks, and bright feathers that filled the cracks and crevices around the two boulders. Little Pup jumped and tumbled down the path to the pool. She began barking. I looked up in time to see Taninto making his way around the top of the bluff and crossing the stream above the falls.
Little Pup paced the water’s edge. “He is not leaving us.” I waded a few steps out into the water. “Come on in, Little Pup. It feels good, not too cold.” I tried to urge her in, but she dashed out of my reach.
Taninto set up a camp on the bluff across from us out of sight of the pool. I nibbled on the hard-bread that he had left soaking in a bowl and ate some of the cold-meal after it came to a boil. I gave Little Pup two big pieces of jerky, then we slept the rest of the day.
The freestanding boulder gave off warmth captured from the spring sun, and the mountain boulder blocked the chill of the north wind. That night, Two-Falls-One told the stories. I, Little Pup, and Grandmother Earth listened.
The next morning, I discovered that Taninto had brought more firewood and a cooked squirrel that Little Pup and I shared. When Father Sun was bright and hot, I swam out to the falls. As the water splashed over me, I watched Taninto build a small hut of willow branches on the edge of the bluff. He covered it with meadow grasses. On top, he spread his buffalo hide like his sweat lodge back home in our valley.
For the next two days, the only sign of him was the firewood he left in the morning and the gray haze rising above his sweat lodge. That evening, he appeared in the opening between the boulders. Little Pup barked and I yelled, “Go away. Leave me alone.”
“I did all I could,” he said.
“We do not need you,” I yelled back.
“It is forbidden for a man to be around a woman during those times.” He reminded me. “It is the way of our people.”
“And your presence is of no comfort now!” I shouted.
“Your bleeding has stopped?” He slowly climbed another step. “Nanza, has it stopped?”
I turned my back to him and nodded my head.
“It is safe for us to continue the journey,” he said.
I had not thought of the journey in three days. “Leave us alone,” I said, suddenly realizing I was not certain that I wanted to leave. The falls had filled my heart with joy and peace. I could stay in this valley. That would be enough.
“In the morning, you should be stronger,” he said. “You will be ready to continue.”
I spun around. “There is nothing wrong with my strength.” I started to call him an old man, but I just glared at him.
“I have prepared a story-fire,” he said as he climbed back down.
After waiting long enough for him to doubt my intent, I followed with Little Pup in my arms. On the rocky shoreline of the stream that flowed from Two-Falls-One, a fire was already burning. He knew I would come.
All manner of rocks, different shapes and colors, filled the streambed along with a few purple flowers. An old tree stood at the very edge with exposed roots dipping in and out of the swift, churning water. The twisted and bent trunks of the younger trees spoke of a determination and the struggle to survive among the rocks and rushing water.
Taninto sat on a large rounded stone half-buried in the dirt. I sat on the other side of the fire.
“I know how to make fire,” he said. “I know how to raise a puppy.” He ruffled her fur with his bad hand and poked at the fire with the other.
“I can fashion useless things from clay and plant corn. I know many things, having lived long, but I know little of what it is for a girl to become a young woman.”
I nodded without looking up.
“I know how it is for a boy when he becomes a man.” His voice faded. “I remember my time,” he mumbled.
I waited. He waited. The fire burned on.
F
inally, I asked, “Will you tell us a story?”
Taninto stood.
Chapter 26: Bridge to Pa-caha
Taninto’s Journey
Four days after “their” arrival - June 26, 1541
I, Taninto, a man of only two days, had felt the power of the Cross of Casqui and witnessed it spread across the land. I watched the Spanish leave, and Father Sun slip away. Uncertain like myself, many remained on the plaza without direction, unsure which way to turn. The cross and stars beyond count filled the sky. It glowed as sap bleeding from the stripped cypress trunk glistened with the light of the four fires that surrounded it.
Across the Temple Mound, torches danced with light taken from one of the four fires. Down the mound steps and through the streets, torch-carriers hurried to ignite a new, purified fire at the center of their own lodges. It was in their lodges that most were gathered around those fires within the comfort of elders and kin.
I should have been in the lodge of my uncle even though I knew he was most likely in the Council House. Aunt Miluka and her two good daughters would be there, but I did not need her rambling. I needed to see Saswanna.
Hers was the largest of the seven lodges in the Red Fox clan south of the plaza. Unlike all the other lodges in Casqui with their doors facing the east, the clan of the Red Fox built their square lodges so that each corner pointed in a sacred direction and their doors faced southeast.
A clan fire burned brightly in the midst of the lodges. Several women moved about a large pot hanging from a tripod over the fire. The aroma of a bubbling stew filled the air. I crept around behind Saswanna’s lodge. In the darkness next to the corn crib, I knelt down. I would be able to see her if she left the lodge and maybe catch her eye before she returned.
Saswanna bounced out of the lodge. Like a drowning man, I gasped. Standing tall, she gazed up at the cross, the curve of her face highlighted against the glow of the clan fire. One of the women around the fire called to her.
She turned away. I sank farther into the shadows. Saswanna quickly returned, carrying a large bowl. My heart beat so loud, I feared someone would hear. A mist from the hot stew drifted up around her as she walked straight for the door. I slipped into the light. She stopped. I took another step toward her. She glanced back at the women then raced to me.
I pulled her behind the crib and set the bowl on top. Her eyes twinkled even in the darkness. All that I had experienced over the last two days lost its grandeur the moment she put her hand in mine.
“I saw you in the procession,” she said softly.
I stammered, “Ah ... ah ...”
She smiled. My face flushed like I was standing too close to a flame. I turned away and looked back over my shoulder.
“What does it mean?” she asked, staring with me up at the cross. “I have seen you with their horses,” she said. “You have walked among the gods.”
“No,” I said, “the Spanish are not gods.”
Saswanna dropped her head then glared back with her jaw set. “But look what they have done. Look at what they have given us.”
“They are men of great accomplishments and greater ambitions. Even so, would gods need to wear armor?” I asked.
“What do you know—boy from down the river?”
I tugged at my hat. “I am not a boy.”
She looked away, up to the cross. “I must go. My brothers would be angry if they saw me with you.”
She disappeared into the lodge. I slumped over and grabbed my hat as it slid off my head. Somewhere deep inside, I ached. Like a young boy, wild-legged, wide-eyed, I ran away toward the wall and around to the north gate.
“The gate is closed!” a guard shouted from the tower.
I waved my hat. “I am a man of Casqui, who kissed the Spanish Cross.”
The guard still did not show himself. “The gate is closed,” he yelled.
“I must return to duty in the service to the Spanish warrior, Diego de Guzman.”
“Today,” the guard shouted back, “everyone is important.”
From one of the small black openings in the tower, an arrow tip slid into the moonlight and pointed down. “And,” he shouted, “I am more important than all those who come before my gate in darkness.”
I slowly turned away. No amount of words would allow me to gain passage through his gate, but I knew another way. The first summer I came to visit my uncle. I met Saswanna. She took me to a tree she called the old wart tree, west of the gate close to the river. Shimmying up its thick trunk, she instructed me on which bulges to grab and which ones to step on. Even then, she always tried to be the best.
One of the lower limbs, straight and thick enough to be a tree itself, reached over the wall. Saswanna giggled that first night as she raced across the limb. I followed, but by the time I passed the wall, she had dropped to another tree and down onto the ground.
~~~
Taninto stopped. He stopped in the middle of a story. He had never done that before. I waited. He turned to me.
“Nanza, I carry more images from my youth than wit or spirit can bear most of the time. Even so, I tried to never forget Saswanna, but I could not remember her smile until this very moment.”
The campfire flickered in his eyes. “Now, I remember,” he said. “I remember her standing on the ground and smiling, smiling up at me.”
I watched the wrinkles of pain fall from Grandfather’s face. He smiled. I turned away and stared at the fire. After a moment, he took a deep breath, and continued his story.
~~~
I did not need Saswanna’s help that night to climb up the old wart tree and over the wall. Once outside, I tried to put thoughts of her aside. I made a promise, a promise to Master Diego. I crept along until I reached the grove then around the Spanish camp to the north side where I slipped in.
“Cooquyi,” I called out as I approached the horse tenders’ campfire, “it is your friend, Taninto.”
Without even looking up, Cooquyi demanded, “Why are you here?”
“I come to serve my master, your master,” I boasted. “If it would please you,” I added, hoping he would offer me a place near the fire, “I could tell you of all the wondrous things I saw today.”
“None of us want to hear about the fortunes of your people,” he growled, “or any other good, except what might befall one of us.”
He glared up at me. “Go back to your people. You are too small to be a horse tender, and no one wants to hear your stories.”
I pointed at the ground. “I will just sit here and say nothing more.”
“No!” Cooquyi shouted. “Leave! Go back to your world. Forget what you have seen. It is a false dream.”
I turned one way and back the other but took a step in neither direction. Cooquyi stood. He said nothing, but his eyes spoke of intention.
I retreated before he could act, back out of the camp the same way I had slipped in. Outside, alone and between two worlds, I slept with my back against the only friend I could find, the mulberry tree.
The sounds of the Spanish breaking camp woke me. Cooquyi knew. That is why he sent me away. I stood and started running toward their camp. “I should go with the Spanish,” I told myself before I remembered the anger in Cooquyi’s voice.
I slowed to a trot, to a walk, a turnaround, and a slow amble back to Casqui. In the daylight, people moved in and out freely. The moment I stepped through the gate, my thoughts and gaze turned up to the Cross of Casqui. Above the crowds, above the grand plaza, above the temple, above all else that had once made Casqui great, it spoke to all who entered the sacred town. Simple in form and perfect in message, some believed endless in its power.
Those going through the gate before me knelt on one knee as they had seen the Spanish do and made the sign of the cross. I did the same, and ran for my uncle’s lodge. I found him and the women on the summer patio. He stood. They did not.
“Son of my sister,” Uncle Tecco growled.
The women hurried into the lodge.
&nb
sp; “As is our way,” my uncle said, “I have taken you into my home to teach you the skills needed to be a man.” He paused as if he wanted me to say something. He continued when I did not. “You have not been in this lodge for two days.”
I pushed back the hat that suddenly seemed too large. “Forgive my thoughtlessness. I have been in the Spanish camp learning to—”
“Say no more.” Uncle Tecco sat down and motioned me to do the same. “Eat,” he said.
I could feel his eyes on me, but I did not look up until I had finished.
“The Spanish are leaving.”
I jumped up. “I want to go with them.”
“No, your place is with your own people.”
“But I have sworn my service to one of the Spaniards while he is in our land.”
“Forget your promise. They are marching out of the land of Casqui to battle our common enemy, the Pa-caha. Everyone is happy about what will happen to the Pa-caha Nation, but I am afraid of what will happen to us.”
“I am not scared, Uncle Tecco. I can help. Let me go with them.”
“No. Not with the Spaniards.”
I slumped back to the ground as my uncle stood.
“But you can help,” he said. “King Issqui promised guides for the Spanish and a safe passage across Chewauhla Creek. I have been given the task of building a bridge over its swamp.”
His chest swelled as I bounced to my feet.
“I have already packed you a back bundle. Put your hat in it and come with me.”
A party of workers gathered outside the north gate. Uncle Tecco talked to each one and inspected the tools and ropes they carried. When no others came forward, he motioned for all to follow at a quick pace but not a run.
“Why are you leaving?” someone called out from the gate.
“Where are you going?” they asked. No one answered.
I had never ventured in the direction of Pa-caha. Few did. Chewauhla Creek and the swamps surrounding it had always separated the lands of Casqui from its ancient enemy.
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