by Tim Tingle
“This boy is lying,” he said, pointing to Danny. “And you, Rick, how can you let him say this? He wants to give his life for me, but he is lying. I refuse to let him hang for my crime.”
Doyle lifted his shotgun and aimed it at Davis. “Just say the word, Major Henson, and I will put an end to this.” He cocked his gun and prepared to fire.
“Lower your weapon, Corporal,” said Henson. “And you, Jim Davis. Sit down or you won’t live to see the hanging rope.”
Davis lowered himself to the bench, breathing hard and gripping his fists in anger. “Ask him where he got the horse,” Davis said. “Go ahead, ask him!”
Danny stared at his friend with tears in his eyes. He felt hurt and betrayed.
“Enough of this,” said Major Henson. “Rick, the noon hour is approaching. Bring your wagon to the hanging scaffold. Jim Davis will be first. We have two horse thieves today.”
Rick rose slowly. “Jim Davis,” he said, “do not do anything foolish. Please. The corporal is looking for a reason to shoot you. Do not let him have that pleasure.”
“Shut up and do what you are told,” said the corporal, glaring at Rick.
“Major,” Rick asked, “will the general be there to witness the hanging?” He gave a quick glance at Davis as he spoke, raising his finger to his lips and letting Davis know he had a plan.
“Yes, every officer at Fort Davis will be present. That is our policy.”
“I will see you in less than half an hour,” Rick said, hurrying out the door. With the soldiers watching Rick depart, Jim Davis caught Danny’s eye. He lifted his palm to his chest, so slowly no one noticed, then flipped his fingers open, as if tossing corn pollen to the morning sky.
He is telling me something, thought Danny. Now is a time for me to pray and wait. I will not run or cause trouble. With a quiet opening and closing of his eyes, he let Jim Davis know he understood.
“Let’s go, both of you,” said Major Henson. “Corporal Doyle, you lead the way, and keep your rifle at your side unless told otherwise.”
As they stepped through the door, eight armed soldiers stood to greet them, waiting for orders. “I want three men on either side of the prisoners,” barked the major, “and two will follow close behind. We will march in formation to the scaffold.”
The soldiers were young and had never seen a hanging. They had never led condemned men to their death. They puffed out their chests and surrounded the prisoners, preparing to march.
“Yes, sir!” they shouted.
As they turned a corner, the hangman’s noose came into sight. The scaffold it hung from stood tall and strong and weathered with age. The noose swung back and forth in the breeze, like a rattlesnake waiting for the time to strike.
At the sight of the hanging rope, Davis felt a stinging pain in his chest. He hunched over and took long, deep breaths. Stay strong, he said to himself. Danny cannot help you now. He was remembering the day when young Danny Blackgoat had pounded his chest, given him his own breath, and saved his life from a heart attack.
A soldier on horseback approached them. “The general will be here soon,” the soldier said. “We are waiting only for the wagon.”
“Let the general know we are ready when he gives the order,” said Major Henson. “Do we have enough rope for another noose?”
“We have plenty of rope, Major Henson,” the soldier said. “We have enough to hang them both.”
Danny kept his eyes to the ground. He had made his choice. When he rode through the gate with Rick, he knew he might never leave Fort Sumner alive. But the news that both he and Jim Davis would hang stabbed him like a knife to the chest.
He closed his eyes and returned to the last day of happiness in his Navajo homeland. He saw himself climb the steep walls of the mesa near his home, as his sheep grazed in the canyon below. Danny remembered saying the morning prayer and pinching the corn pollen from the leather pouch he wore around his neck. For a brief moment, he saw streaks of deep red in the clouds to the east, as the sun lifted above the distant mountains.
But in a brief moment, his life forever changed, when soldiers rode into the neighborhood, firing shotguns and torching homes. Fiery clouds rose from the Navajo hogans as people fled from their homes. The soldiers herded the sheep into the corral behind Danny’s home, then one by one led them to their slaughter. A soldier grabbed Danny and made him watch as he sliced the throat of Danny’s favorite sheep, little Crowfoot.
“And I fought them every way I could,” Danny whispered. “Till Jim Davis taught me how to win the battle by waiting and watching.”
“Move on,” said a soldier, poking Danny in the ribs. Danny jumped as if awakened from a dream world. He opened his eyes and looked around.
Jim Davis saved my life, he thought, and it will cost him his own.
A trumpet sounded, and General Bucknell, the fort commander, appeared, riding a high-stepping stallion and followed by twenty officers on horseback. He stepped from the saddle and saluted Major Henson and his men.
“Are we ready to proceed?” he asked.
“Yes, General Bucknell,” Rick shouted, snapping the reins and driving his wagon to the hangman’s noose. To the surprise of everyone, Rick stepped down from his wagon.
“General Bucknell,” he said, “as the driver of the hanging wagon, I must speak to you, please.”
“You have never been part of a hanging?” the general asked.
“No, but that is not the problem here.”
“What is the problem?”
Rick approached General Bucknell in silence. He stood beside the general’s horse before he finally spoke, so quietly no one else could hear.
“The two prisoners, Jim Davis and Danny Blackgoat, are charged with horse theft. They never stole the horse. My wife is Navajo. Danny Blackgoat is Navajo. She gave me her horse to save the young man’s life.”
“Are you telling me you gave Jim Davis the horse, the horse Danny Blackgoat rode during his escape?”
“Yes, General. I am guilty. You can charge me with offering a horse that allowed the boy to escape. Jim Davis is guilty of aiding the boy. Danny Blackgoat committed no crime, other than riding to Fort Sumner to be with his family.”
“How do I know you are telling the truth?”
“If you check the underbelly of the horse,” said Rick, “you will see he is not branded with the markings of a cavalry horse. He is a Navajo pony.”
At that moment, a little girl rode her pony through the gates of the fort, screaming and waving her arms.
Chapter 22
Sarah Meets the General
“He didn’t do it!” Sarah yelled. “Danny Blackgoat is innocent. Cut down the rope!”
General Bucknell stared at Rick, at first ignoring the scene behind him. He took a deep breath and slowly turned his head in the direction of the noise. He was greeted by the craziest scene he had ever seen in all of his thirty-five years in the United States Army. Four soldiers, waving their rifles with one hand and clutching their hats with the other, chased after a small girl racing through the gate and holding tight to the saddle horn of her pony.
“Mister Armyman General,” Sarah shouted frantically, “that young man there is Danny Blackgoat and he saved my life and my mother’s and rescued us from slave traders and he is the best young man I ever met!”
General Bucknell lifted himself in the saddle and raised his right arm high, signaling to the soldiers. “Halt!” he said. “This girl presents no danger. I can take over from here.”
The soldiers skidded to a stop and gave a quick salute to the general. “Yes, sir!” they said, and returned to the gate.
“Young lady,” said the general, “I am in charge here.”
“But, General, you can’t—”
Bucknell smiled and touched his finger to his lips. “I talk first, you listen. Then you get to talk. Are you okay with that?”
Sarah nodded.
“First, who are you, and where are your parents?”
�
��My name is Sarah, and my parents are there,” she said, pointing over her shoulder. Her mother and father stood by their horses, waiting at the gate.
“Let them enter!” Bucknell ordered. “Major Henson, before we continue with the hangings, we will hear what these people have to say. And you too, Rick. Follow me.”
“General?” Rick asked.
“What is it?”
“May we bring Jim Davis and Danny Blackgoat with us? They have much to tell, all of which we can verify.”
Soon the Gradys, Rick, Jim, and Danny were gathered in General Bucknell’s office. “I would like to hear from you first, young man,” the general said, nodding at Danny Blackgoat. “Take your time and tell me everything you remember, from the day you were first taken from your home.”
Danny spoke for an hour, pausing as his story moved from the burning of his home and the death of his sheep. He told of being pulled away from his family and called a troublemaker when he tried to bring water to thirsty old people. He told the general about his trip to Fort Sumner, tied across the back of a horse. He described how Jim Davis helped him escape from Fort Davis, so he could be with his family. He also spoke of Sarah and the Grady family.
“They are good people,” he said. “They fed me when I was hungry.”
“And this young man, Danny Blackgoat, rescued my family,” Mr. Grady added. “My wife and daughter were taken by slave traders, and many of my ranch workers were killed. But with Danny’s help, we are alive and well.”
Danny went on to tell the general about his nearby hideout at the rattlesnake cave, and how he carried fresh water to his family, to keep them alive.
General Bucknell sat silent for the entire hour, sipping his coffee and moving his gaze from one to the other. When Danny told of climbing from the coffin, the general noticed that Danny bowed his head—as if offering a prayer of thanks.
Finally, Sarah spoke, unable to contain herself any longer. “I rode my horse as fast as I could,” she said, “to save the man who once saved me.”
“And I am glad you did, young lady,” General Bucknell said, rising slowly to his feet. “You prevented a grave injustice, and we are very thankful.”
The unspoken question hung in the air. What happens now?
The general stepped from his office and spoke briefly to his officers. When he returned, his face had a serious look, but when he spotted Jim Davis his eyes softened. He stood beside him and waited for Davis to lift his face and look at him.
“Jim Davis,” he said, “we still need a carpenter. What do you say?”
“I will be the best carpenter you’ve ever known,” said Davis. “But a good carpenter needs a hardworking helper.”
“I am glad you mentioned that. Would you mind training a young Navajo man to be your helper?”
“I would be honored,” said Davis.
“Good. And Danny Blackgoat, you will be allowed to visit your family, to make sure they are safe. If you try to escape, I cannot promise your safety, or that of your family.”
“I understand,” Danny said. “I am here for my family.”
“Now, Mr. and Mrs. Grady, I am sending six soldiers to accompany you home. They will camp out in the woods surrounding your ranch and be on the lookout for slave traders and villains. Will you agree to work with our soldiers, to give them sleeping quarters in bad weather, to cooperate with the US Army?”
“Yes, sir,” Mr. Grady said. “And thank you for hearing all we had to say, especially my daughter Sarah.”
“Rick,” said General Bucknell, “you will remain here, at Fort Sumner, with your wife and family. No more dangerous journeys.”
“Thank you,” said Rick. “My wife will be very glad to hear that.”
“You are welcome,” said General Bucknell. “You will all stay in the soldiers’ quarters tonight and say your good-byes in the morning. I will explain my final decision to my men, and they will follow my orders. No hangings today, and hopefully none for the remainder of your stay here.”
As the morning sun rose on the following day, Danny Blackgoat stood on a hillside overlooking his family’s campsite. But he was not alone. Standing close beside him, as she would for many years, stood Jane. He tossed corn pollen to the rising sun and offered once more his Navajo prayer.
When the morning sun casts its light on the canyon walls
A new house is born,
A house made of dawn.
Before me all is beautiful.
Behind me all is beautiful.
Above me all is beautiful.
Below me all is beautiful.
Around me all is beautiful.
Within me all is beautiful.
Tajahoteje.
Nothing will change.
Afterword: Navajo Future, the Treaty of 1868
In May 1868, General W. T. Sherman arrived at Fort Sumner to discuss the hardships and wishes of the Navajos. Chief Barboncito spoke for the Navajos.
“I was born at the lower end of Canyon de Chelly,” he said. “We have been living here for five winters [at Fort Sumner] and have done all we possibly could to raise a crop of corn. This land does not like us. Neither does the water. In our country a rattlesnake gives a warning before he bites. We have all declared that we do not want to remain here any longer.”
The following day, General Sherman agreed with the Navajos, adding, “Our government is determined that the enslavement of Navajos shall cease.”
During five years of imprisonment, two thousand of the nine thousand Navajos who marched on the Long Walk from Navajo Nation to Fort Sumner died. The nearby lake was salt-filled, winters were brutal, and slave traders dragged hundreds from their families. Hearing that his people could now return to their homeland, Chief Barboncito was humble and joyful.
“After we get back to our country, the Navajos will be as happy as the land, black clouds will rise, and there will be plenty of rain. Corn will grow in abundance.”
What happened to the Navajos in the 1860s was a terrible injustice. But unlike so many American Indians forced to leave their homelands, the Navajos were allowed to return. Struggles with land-grabbers, railroads, and treaty breakers continued, but the Navajos flourished—and today the Navajo Nation has the largest Indian population in America.
Recommended Resource
Diné: A History of the Navajos by Peter Iverson, with photos by Navajo photographer Monty Roessel.
About the Author
Tim Tingle is an Oklahoma Choctaw and an award-winning author and storyteller. Every Labor Day, Tingle performs a Choctaw story before the Choctaw chief’s State of the Nation Address, a gathering that attracts over ninety thousand tribal members and friends.
In June 2011, Tingle spoke at the Library of Congress and presented his first performance at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC. From 2011 to the present, he has been a featured author and storyteller at Choctaw Days, a celebration at the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of the American Indian honoring the Oklahoma Choctaws.
Tingle’s great-great-grandfather, John Carnes, walked the Trail of Tears in 1835. In 1992 Tim retraced the Trail to Choctaw homelands in Mississippi and began recording stories of tribal elders. His first book, Walking the Choctaw Road, was the outcome. His first children’s book, Crossing Bok Chitto, garnered over twenty state and national awards and was an Editor’s Choice in the New York Times Book Review.
As an instructor at the University of Oklahoma, Tingle presented summer classes in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Fueled by his own family’s survival on the Trail of Tears, he became fascinated with the Navajo Long Walk, and the Danny Blackgoat series came to life.
PathFinders novels offer exciting contemporary and historical stories featuring Native teens and written by Native authors. For more information, visit: NativeVoicesBooks.com
Danny Blackgoat: Navajo Prisoner
Tim Tingle
978-1-93905-303-9
$9.95 • 144 pages
Danny Blackgoat: Rugged Road to Freedom
Tim Tingle
978-1-93905-305-3
$9.95 • 176 pages
No Name
Tim Tingle
978-1-93905-306-0
$9.95 • 168 pages
Available from your local bookstore or directly from:
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