by Tim Tingle
“Hold on,” said the sergeant. “My old man was a preacher, and I can’t leave this man without a prayer.”
The soldiers stood facing the grave, with their backs to Danny Blackgoat. They held their hats in their hands and bowed their heads.
Just like the Gradys do before they eat their meals, thought Danny. I hope they pray as long as Mr. Grady does.
Keeping a careful eye on the soldiers, Danny crawled over the hill and dashed to the wagon. Without a sound he climbed onto the wagon bed, lifted the lid of the extra coffin, and slipped inside. Very quietly he lowered the lid, holding his breath and hoping the soldiers saw nothing.
Once inside, he opened his mouth wide and took a deep breath. What did I just do? he asked himself. I was safe. No one knew I was anywhere near Fort Sumner. And the first time I hear anybody talk about Jim Davis, I crawl in a coffin on the chance that I might get to see him! What am I doing?
But he could not stop himself from smiling. I know what I will do. I can play a trick on Jim Davis. Yes!
The soldiers climbed to the wagon as if nothing had happened. “Now that we have a good carpenter,” the sergeant said, “he’s gonna keep us busy. No more rotting bodies on the ground.”
“I still think it’s a waste of good lumber,” said the private.
“Well, that’s not our business. Let’s get back to the fort,” the sergeant replied, snapping the ropes and calling to the horses. “Let’s go, boys.”
Inside the coffin Danny bounced from one side to the other as the wagon climbed the rocky road. As they neared the top of the hill, the road took a steep upturn. Danny felt the coffin slide a few feet to the rear of the wagon.
“Please, no,” he whispered.
The horses whinnied, and the sergeant snapped the ropes again. “Come on, let’s go, boys!”
Soon the wagon topped the hill and faced a long downhill path. With the extra weight, the coffin slid hard against the wagon seat.
“Hey,” shouted the private. “What’s going on with that coffin? It didn’t slide around on the way up here.” Danny clenched his fists tight and dug them into his cheekbones.
“We didn’t drive as fast on the way up,” the sergeant said. “We had two coffins, remember? And one of them had a body inside.”
Danny relaxed and whispered a Navajo thank-you.
In half an hour the wagon came to a halt.
“Let’s carry this coffin inside the shop and get some lunch,” the sergeant said.
Oh, no, thought Danny. They’ll lift the coffin from the wagon and know somebody is inside. I am a dead man!
The door to the carpentry shop opened, and a familiar voice called out, “I thought you needed two coffins.” It was Jim Davis.
“Help me, please, Jim Davis,” Danny whispered. “Your friend Danny Blackgoat needs you.”
“Here,” Davis said, as if he had heard the plea of his young friend, “let me carry that.”
“It’s heavy,” said the sergeant.
“It is an empty coffin,” Jim Davis replied. “If I can’t carry an empty coffin, then maybe I need to build one for myself!”
The soldiers laughed while Davis reached over the sideboard and slid the coffin to the rear of the wagon. “You’re right,” Davis said. “This coffin is heavy. Feels like something is in it.”
“Not unless a body crawled inside when we weren’t looking,” the private said, laughing.
He knows something is inside, Danny thought. In an instant Jim Davis opened the lid of the coffin and stood staring at his young friend, Danny Blackgoat.
“Anything wrong?” asked the sergeant.
Davis could not take his eyes away from Danny, with his arms wrapped tight around himself and a terrified look on his face.
Chapter 10
Back Home at the Carpentry Shop
Danny unrolled his right fist and gave Davis a childlike wave.
“What is it?” asked the sergeant. “Some animal crawled in there and died?”
The next words I say can mean life or death for Danny, Davis thought. “Uh, no, nothing,” he stammered. “Except you’re gonna have to dig up every body in that graveyard. At least the ones buried in the coffins I made.”
The sergeant jumped from the wagon. “What are you talking about?” Davis closed the lid and stood between the coffin and the sergeant.
“This coffin is full of mud and dirt,” Davis said. “I must not be nailing ’em tight enough. They get a little rain, and they fill up with mud.”
“Is this some kind of a joke?” the sergeant said, stepping around Davis and reaching for the coffin lid.
“No, no joke. I’m just gonna have to do a better job.” He put a strong hand on the lid and dragged the coffin inside the carpentry shop. Then he stepped outside, carefully closing the door behind himself, and turned to the soldiers. “This is not your worry,” Davis said. “I just have to do some rebuilding.”
“Well, we are sure not digging up any Indian bodies just because they got a little muddy,” said the private. “Let ’em drown!”
The sergeant stood silent, looking at Jim Davis and wondering what was happening. “Come on, Sergeant. Let’s go get some lunch,” said the private, snapping the reins.
The sergeant shook his head and climbed into the wagon. He glanced over his shoulder as if about to say something to Davis, then decided against it. “Let’s go,” he called to his horses.
Davis stood at the doorway, waving at the soldiers till they rode out of site.
“You sure know how to bring a little excitement into a man’s life, my friend,” he said, closing the door behind him.
“Can I come out?” Danny asked.
“Gimme a minute to lock the door. And make some coffee. You got some explaining to do.”
“What if the soldiers come back?”
“I guess you still have that good strong Danny Blackgoat brain,” Davis said. When he opened the coffin again, he had a big grin on his face. He reached down and pulled Danny out of the coffin.
“Bring me the broom, Danny,” he said, pointing to a corner of the shop. “I’ll sweep the coffin out and lean it on its end, like it did have dirt and mud inside.”
“Where can I hide when somebody comes?”
Davis looked at Danny and replied with his biggest belly laugh since he left Fort Davis. “You won’t believe this, son, but I already thought of that. I knew you’d be here sooner or later. And since it was you, I should have known it would be sooner!”
“It’s good to see you happy,” Danny said.
“It is good to see you alive,” Davis said. “Now, follow me.”
He led Danny across the shop to a long carpenter’s table. “This is where I do most of my sawing,” he said. “Notice anything different?”
Danny shook his head and waited.
“Look under the table, at the back wall.” Danny knelt to the floor and scooted under the table. He pulled aside a blanket, and before him stood a small round room made of stones.
“What is this, Jim Davis?”
“It’s your home away from home, Danny. It used to be a fireplace. But I talked the officers out of a wood-burning stove, and I just covered up the fireplace. Waiting for you.”
“You know what I like most about it?” Danny asked.
“Let me guess. It’s made out of stone so snakes can’t get you?”
Danny shuddered to think of the rattlesnakes. “No,” he said. “I don’t have to be closed up tight in the dark, like in a coffin. The front wall is a blanket.”
“And did you look at the blanket, Danny? It is a Navajo blanket.”
“You are a good man, Jim Davis.”
Davis smiled and patted Danny on the shoulder. “Let me boil some water for coffee, and you can tell me how you got here,” he said.
For the next hour, Jim Davis and Danny Blackgoat traded stories about their recent adventures. Danny told his friend about the Grady ranch and how kind they were to him.
“They welcomed me
like no white people I ever knew, Jim Davis. Almost like I was one of them.”
“You are like them in many ways,” said Davis. “You are a good, hardworking young man, and Mr. Grady saw that in you.”
When he told Davis about Manny and the slave traders, Davis bit his lip and clenched his fists. “You are lucky to be alive. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Danny said. “I am alive for my family, to help them just like I helped the Gradys.” When he finished his stories, Danny took a long sip of coffee, letting Jim Davis know he was ready to listen.
“Danny, I wish you could have seen all the excitement you caused when they discovered you were not in your bed that morning!” he began.
“Did they know I was buried in the graveyard?”
“No, I covered up the grave after you rode away. But that didn’t stop the soldiers from suspecting me. I think they still do. If they find you here, Danny, we could both hang. And since the soldiers saw you at the Gradys’ a few days ago, they’ll be looking for you here. And you know the first place they’ll look?”
“They will look for me to be with my family,” Danny said.
“Yes,” said Davis, “and then they’ll look for you here.”
As if on cue, a loud knocking sound shook the front door.
“Open this door!” a voice shouted. “Now!”
Davis pointed to the fireplace and Danny jumped to his feet. He leapt under the table and was about to close the blanket over his hideout when he spotted his coffee cup. The pounding grew so strong the door rattled on its hinges.
“Open this door now, or we’ll blow it open!”
Danny crawled from the fireplace to retrieve his cup, while Davis made his way to the door. Just before he opened it, Davis glanced over his shoulder. He frantically waved to Danny to hide himself. Danny did, leaving his half-filled coffee cup on the floor for all to see.
Chapter 11
The Shadow
Jim Davis lifted the latch of his door and slowly opened it. Six soldiers, five infantrymen and a corporal, stood before him. The corporal’s hand gripped a sword hanging at his side, and his men held their rifles in front of them, ready to fire if needed.
“Why was your door locked?” the corporal asked. “This door is not supposed to have a lock on it.”
“I keep it locked ’cause of the slave traders,” Davis said. “I’m too old to be fighting that gang of killers.”
“Carpenter, what is your name?” asked the corporal, as his men lowered their rifles.
“Jim Davis, and I’m pleased to meet you,” Davis said, extending his hand.
“I am Corporal Doyle,” the soldier said, ignoring Davis’s outstretched hand. “And before you were captured you were a rebel soldier, am I correct?”
“Yes, sir,” said Davis.
“You were fighting to protect slave traders,” said the corporal.
Davis hung his head and said nothing in reply.
“You know the slave traders could never enter this fort. They would never try. Their prey sleeps and lives outside the fort.”
“Prey?” said Davis, lifting his eyes to face the corporal. “You mean the Navajo people, struggling to stay alive?”
“We live in a savage world, Jim Davis. And if you want to live another day, protected by the United States Army, you play by our rules. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Davis replied.
Corporal Doyle turned to his men. “Tear the lock off that door, and let’s move on.” Two soldiers grabbed a metal bar and pried the latch from the wall and the door. “Keep the lock,” he said, staring at Davis. “We might need it later, to lock this rebel inside his shop.”
From his new hiding spot in the stone fireplace, Danny Blackgoat had a frightening thought. With no lock on the door, anybody can come in whenever they want, day or night.
“Drop by anytime,” Davis said, waving as he closed the door.
With the soldiers gone, he walked slowly to his worktable and sat on the bench. “Stay where you are for a while,” he said quietly. Danny reached under the blanket and tapped Davis’s boot, letting him know he understood.
“I have a question for you,” a voice said, floating through the room. Davis turned to see the corporal, standing in the doorway. He had never even heard the door open.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” said Davis. “I was just getting back to work.”
The corporal pointed to the coffee cups on the floor. “There are two cups. Did you have a visitor this morning?”
“Yes, I did,” Davis said. “The men who pick up the coffins. I always have coffee ready for anybody who stops by. Would you like a cup? It’ll just take me a minute.” Davis hurried to the stove and lifted the pan for boiling water.
“Oh no,” he said. “Looks like I’m out of water.”
“I did not come by for coffee,” the corporal said. “I came by to let you know we have our eyes on you. We know you were a friend of that Indian boy, the one who escaped from Fort Davis. He stole a horse, and he will hang. So be warned, unless you want to join him.”
“Sir, we had our falling out long ago. I was glad to see him go.”
“I am no friend of savages or rebels,” the corporal said, slamming the door closed.
Davis stood as still as a statue for a long moment. If the corporal asks the graveyard workers about morning coffee, I am in trouble, he thought. He took a deep breath and hung his head. He wanted to talk to Danny, to come up with a new plan. But even a simple conversation was dangerous—with no lock on the door.
He returned to his bench without speaking. Danny knew to be very quiet till the immediate danger had passed. Half an hour later, Davis stepped outside, looking up and down the street. Dozens of soldiers were following orders and performing their duties, and none of their duties seemed to involve Jim Davis.
After sundown Davis cooked corn stew on his small stove. He lit his oil lamp, keeping the flame low, and the room was darker than usual. When the stew was ready, he handed a cup to Danny under the blanket. When Danny didn’t take the stew, Davis knelt under the table and whispered, “It’s safe now, Danny. Here, I made us some stew.”
No answer.
“Danny, we’re alone now. You have to eat.”
Still no answer.
Davis flung back the blanket and crawled closer, peering into the fireplace opening. In the darkness he saw only shadows. “Danny, are you there?”
He reached into the fireplace and felt the cold stones. Shaking his head and wondering what was happening, Davis felt a tapping on his shoulder.
“Hey!” he hollered, banging his head on the table. He rolled to his back and saw the outline of someone standing over him.
Davis scrambled to his feet. “You could have let me know you were here,” he said. He squinted his eyes, still unable to see in the dim light. He guessed a soldier was standing before him.
“Can I help you?”
The shadow answered, “Yes,” nodding his head.
Davis stood trembling before this nighttime intruder.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am not supposed to talk,” the shadow whispered, and in the light of a thin moonbeam, Jim Davis saw his friend, Danny Blackgoat.
Chapter 12
Invisible Navajo
“I am sorry, Jim Davis, but if I was always where people expect me to be, I would not be alive today.”
“I know, Danny, but you need to remember—I’m the man who had the heart attack. You can’t do that to me, ever again.”
“Even if you sneak up behind me while I am praying?” Danny asked.
In spite of himself, Davis laughed. “All right, but if you recall, I did allow you to finish,” he said, gripping Danny’s hand in a strong handshake. “Friends again?”
“Yes, but I can’t stay here anymore, not even tonight,” Danny said.
“You’re right,” Davis agreed. “Chances are good the soldiers will come looking for you here tomorrow, and they’l
l tear this place apart. I need to uncover the fireplace and maybe move the table, so it doesn’t look like I’m trying to hide anything.”
“I need to leave the fort and get to my family. Can Rick help?”
“Maybe, but they’ll be watching him too,” Davis said.
In the silence that followed, a soft knock sounded at the door.
Davis looked at Danny and Danny froze, but for only a moment. In a flash he leapt behind a stack of boards against the wall. Davis waited, hoping whoever was knocking would think he was asleep and leave.
Whup, whup, whup. Once more the knock floated across the carpentry shop, like a soft cloud. “Just a minute,” Davis said. “I was nodding off to sleep.”
He opened the door, expecting a group of soldiers. Instead, a young girl stood before him, staring at the ground at her feet. “Are you Rick’s daughter?” Davis asked.
The girl nodded, and Davis reached for her shoulder and hurried her inside. He looked right and left, peering into the shadows, looking for any movement or dark shapes that should not be there. When he saw nothing, he entered his shop and turned to the girl.
“Did anyone see you? Did the soldiers follow you? Are you sure?”
“No one saw me,” she answered. “I was very careful. My mother and father do not even know I am here.”
“Where do they think you are?”
“Asleep under my blanket.”
“Oh my,” said Davis. “I hope they don’t discover you’re gone. Rick has seen how cruel the slave traders can be. He’ll look everywhere for you.”
“I won’t stay long,” she said. “I want to make sure Danny Blackgoat is safe. Do you know where he is?”
Davis hesitated. Rick’s daughter thinks it is safe to come to my shop in the middle of the night, he thought. If she knows Danny is here, she won’t leave until she sees him. We’ll all be in danger.
“You can trust me,” the girl said, as if reading his thoughts. “I will tell no one except my mother and father, and they know to be careful.”
Davis smiled. “You are as smart as Danny,” he said. “What is your name?”
“I am Jane,” she said. “My grandmother’s clan is Bead People, and my grandfather’s is Bitter Water. We live at Fort Davis but came to Fort Sumner with my father on one of his trips.”