Danny Blackgoat, Navajo Prisoner

by Tim Tingle

  Chapter 14

  The Gift of Freedom

  Every evening, Davis and Danny sat on the front porch of the carpenter shop. One night, after a supper of stew and cornbread, Davis patted Danny on the knee.

  “Danny,” he said, “it’s time we went to work, you and I.”

  “Work?” Danny asked, standing up as he spoke.

  “No!” Davis laughed. “Not work in the fields! You need to learn to talk like I do. Like Rick does.”

  “Talk,” Danny said in a quiet voice. “Danny talk like Jim Davis.”

  “Yes,” said Davis. “I will be your teacher. This porch will be our school.”

  Danny nodded, and from that moment on his life would never be the same. Davis took his knife from his belt.

  “Knife,” he said. “Jim Davis’s knife.”

  Danny looked at his friend and smiled. “Jim Davis knife.”

  “Yes,” said Davis. “Say it again. Jim Davis’s knife.” He handed the knife to Danny.

  “Jim Davis’s knife,” Danny repeated, over and over. He lifted the knife till the blade reflected the moonlight. “Jim Davis’s knife.”

  “Good!” said Davis, pointing to Danny.

  “Good,” Danny said.

  The first night of school, Danny learned to say “rock,” “snake,” “fire,” and “vest.”

  “Jim Davis’s vest,” he said proudly, remembering his grandfather’s leather shop. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and caught the smell of cowhide that filled the air.

  “Yes,” said Davis. “Jim Davis’s vest.”

  Every night, Danny learned more words. And every morning, he listened to the prisoners speak. He listened when the soldiers gave their orders. He repeated the new words very quietly so no one heard. He practiced talking while he struck the blade of his hoe into the hard ground.

  “All right! Get up. Time to work,” he said, remembering the words of the soldiers. “I’m sleepy,” he said, as Jim Davis said every night when school was over.

  By the end of the first week, Jim Davis and Danny Blackgoat had their first conversation. Supper was over and the moon was a tiny sliver in the sky.

  “Was supper good?” Davis asked.

  “Yes,” Danny said. “I like beans.”

  “Are you sleepy?”

  “No, Danny is ready for school.”

  “Good. First word tonight?”

  “Yes, first word.”

  Davis pointed to the sky.

  “Moon,” he said.

  “Moon,” Danny repeated.

  “Say it again, Danny.”

  “Moon. Moon. Moon. Small moon.”

  “Yes! Danny, you are smart.”

  “Thank you,” Danny said. “You are smart too, Jim Davis.”

  “I hope so,” Davis whispered to himself, recalling the footprints of Mr. Dime outside Danny’s window. “I hope I’m smart enough.”

  He began to hatch his plan. The next evening, as Danny walked from the fields with the other prisoners, a guard took him by the arm.

  “Follow me, Fire Eye,” he said. He led Danny to the prisoner barracks. “Sleep in your own bed. No more special favors for you.”

  Soon Jim Davis appeared with Danny’s clothes.

  “Be very careful, Danny. I’ve talked to the officer in charge. He said you can still come visit me after work.”

  “Thank you,” Danny said.

  “So, I’ll see you after supper. School’s not out yet!”

  That night Davis shivered as they sat down on the porch.

  “It is getting cold,” he said.

  “Yes, cold,” Danny said.

  Davis carried a book under his arm, the only book he had. He showed Danny the book and said, “I want to read you a story. About a baby. He was born in the cold.”

  From that night on, as winter approached, school had two lessons. Lesson One was for new words. Lesson Two was for reading.

  Every night, Jim Davis read the story about the baby. Though it was only October, Davis wanted Danny to understand about Christmas. He showed Danny the words, touching his fingers to the page and saying them aloud.

  “Manger,” he said. “Like a barn. Where horses sleep.”

  Danny understood some words, like wise men.

  “My grandfather is a wise man,” he said.

  “Yes, your grandfather is a wise man,” Davis agreed, touching his vest.

  But Danny had a hard time with the word angels.

  “They have wings,” said Davis, “and they fly. They see everything.

  “Eagles,” Danny said. “Eagles see everything.”

  “No, Danny. Angels.”

  “Like eagles,” Danny said. “Angels are like eagles.”

  “I guess they are,” Davis said. He laughed softly and patted Danny on the shoulder. “Maybe angels are like eagles.”

  One night, Davis lit a candle and placed it next to Danny on the porch.

  “Candle,” he said.

  “Candle,” Danny said. “This is a candle. Candle.”

  “Yes, Danny. Candles for the baby. People light candles and remember the baby.”

  “Candles to remember,” Danny said.

  “Yes,” said Davis. “And they give gifts. Like your grandfather gave me this vest. A gift.”

  The days and weeks passed, and Danny was learning to speak and even read English. Jim Davis was a good and patient teacher. Susan and Jane visited often. They spoke mostly English, to help Danny learn.

  Except for trying to trip him almost every morning, and spitting on him once, Mr. Dime left Danny alone.

  One evening in late December, as they wrapped blankets around themselves and began school lessons, Davis waited a long time before speaking.

  “Danny,” he finally said.

  “Yes.”

  “You know that we celebrate the birth of the baby.”

  “I know the story,” Danny said. “Nobody liked his mother and father. They walked a long walk. Nobody was kind. Nobody let them stay inside from the cold.”

  “Good, Danny,” Davis said. “Go on.”

  “The baby’s mother could not sleep outside. What if a mountain lion attacked? She could never run.”

  Jim Davis stared at his young friend.

  “Son,” he said, “you understand this story better than anybody I’ve ever met.”

  Davis tilted his hat back on his forehead and looked at the moon.

  “I guess the soldiers treated you the same way they treated the baby and his family.”

  Danny said not a word. The glow of the yellow moon told him that a magic time was coming.

  “I have a plan,” said Davis. “I want to give you the best Christmas present ever. If you could make anything happen, what would it be?”

  Danny smiled. “I would be home with my family,” he said. “And my good sheep Crowfoot would be alive.”

  “Well,” said Davis, “I can’t do anything about Crowfoot, I’m sorry to say. But I can see that you get home to your family.”

  “How can you do that?”

  “Danny, you have to trust me. You have to do everything exactly as I say. And keep praying with that corn pollen like you do every morning.”

  “You have seen me pray?” asked Danny.

  “Yes, son. I have kept an eye on you. Somebody had to, once you made Mr. Dime angry. I’ve stopped him from killing you, if you want to know the truth.”

  “I never knew.”

  “Well, don’t you worry. We’re gonna get you out of Fort Davis. Can you find your way home?”

  “Yes!” said Danny. “It’s a long walk, but I can do it.”

  Davis laughed and slapped Danny on the knee.

  “Son, you won’t have to walk! You can ride a pony.”

  Danny leaned forward and his eyes grew big.

  “Here’s my plan,” said Davis. “You’ve seen the flags flying at half-mast. Only halfway up the flagpole? Well, they do that whenever somebody dies. It’s a way of honoring the dead person.”


  “I’ve seen it. We watch the flags every morning from the fields.”

  “Yes. Well, since I’m the carpenter, whenever anybody dies, I build the coffin. They bring me dried old lumber. Then I nail together a burying coffin.”

  Danny looked away. To the Navajo people, death was evil and dark. If someone died inside a Navajo house, for whatever reason, no one would ever live in that house again. The family burned the house to the ground and built another. Danny felt very uncomfortable hearing Jim Davis talk about death.

  “I don’t want to die to see my family,” Danny said.

  “No, son. You don’t have to die. We will wait till somebody else dies. When you see the flags at half-mast, that’s the day of your escape. You’ll have to act like nothing has happened. Work all day just like you always do. But that night,” Davis continued, “after everyone is asleep, crawl out of your bed and slip to the back door of the carpenter shop.”

  “Will you be here?” Danny asked.

  “No, I will stay with Rick and his family that night, so no one will think I had anything to do with this. But I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. And here’s the important part, Danny. Can you trust me?”

  “Yes,” said Danny. “You are my best friend. I trust you.”

  Davis took a deep breath and sighed.

  “Danny, I will build the coffin deeper than usual. Room enough for two inside.”

  “Why room enough for two?” Danny asked.

  “Son, I think you know the answer to that. You will open the lid very slowly and crawl on top of the body. Then close the lid and wait.”

  “I don’t like this plan,” Danny said.

  “Danny, if there was an easy way to escape, there would be no prisoners. They’d all be gone. I know this is scary, but it will work. I know it will.”

  “What happens next?”

  “Just before sunrise, soldiers will come for the coffin. We have to pray they won’t look inside. If they do—well, we don’t want to think about that. Anyway, they’ll have a horse drag the coffin to the cemetery, outside the gates of the fort. The burial service is always at sunrise, so they don’t lose any working hours.”

  “You have to stay in that coffin all day long, Danny. But don’t worry. It won’t be hot, ’cause you’ll be six feet under, as they say. They will bury you alive.”

  “Jim Davis,” Danny said, “I am scared already. I don’t like this. My grandfather would never let me do this.”

  “Danny! Give me chance,” Davis said. “Please. What would your grandfather do if someone died in their sleep, on a bed next to somebody else?”

  “There is a cleansing ceremony to take the death away,” Danny replied.

  “Then, Danny Blackgoat, as soon as you are home, tell your grandfather what happened. He will have a cleansing ceremony for you. Trust me, Danny,” Davis said, wiping his eyes. “He will be so happy to see you. So will your mother and father.”

  “Jim?” Danny asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Why are you crying?”

  “Because I will be happy for you, too. But I will miss you. You are like a son to me, Danny.”

  “We will see each other again, Jim Davis. I know we will.”

  “I pray that we will, Danny. But you didn’t even ask how you’re gonna get out of the grave!”

  “I think I already know,” said Danny. “You’ll wait for the sun to go down. You’ll slip through the gates of the fort with a horse, saddled and ready for me to ride. You will dig me out of the ground. Is that right?”

  “Yes, Danny,” Davis said, laughing softly. “You are one smart young man.”

  “When I’m not in the barracks the next morning, they will look for me,” Danny said. “When I don’t go to work in the cotton fields, they will think I ran away. But they will never look in the coffin.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Davis said. “This is very important, Danny. Let’s not see each other till that day. I don’t want anyone to see us talking together. Look to the flagpole every morning. When you see the low-flying flag, that will be the day.”

  “I understand,” Danny said. “We don’t want anybody to know about our plan.”

  “That’s right, Danny. No more reading and talking lessons. You’ve learned everything I can teach you, anyway. Let’s say good-bye now.”

  “Good-bye, Jim Davis,” Danny said, and stood to go.

  “How do you say good-bye in Navajo?” Davis asked.

  “Ha-goo-nee,” said Danny. “Hagoonee.”

  “Hagoonee, Danny Blackgoat,” Davis whispered.

  Chapter 15

  Mr. Dime’s Final Act

  What followed was the longest month of Danny Blackgoat’s life. Every morning, on his way to the cotton fields, Danny watched the raising of the United States flag over Fort Davis. He heard the bugle sound out the morning song. He watched as the flag climbed the flagpole, all the way to the top.

  “On the day the flag hangs halfway high, that is my day of freedom,” he thought.

  Day after day he watched the flag, only to be disappointed. After a month, Danny decided to talk to Jim Davis that evening.

  “I am tired of hoping for something that will never happen. I will stay at this fort till I die. The plan is off,” he told himself one morning on his way to work.

  Danny heard the bugle call.

  “I don’t even want to look,” he thought, kicking the dirt as he walked.

  Suddenly a rabbit sprinted across the path in front of him. Danny laughed. He remembered his grandfather’s warning: “Whenever you see a rabbit, Danny, watch your step. Rabbits like to laugh at our expense. Something is about to change!”

  With a smile on his face, Danny glanced up. His eye caught the flag, flying at half-mast!

  “Yes!” he shouted, pumping his fist and leaping high.

  Then he remembered that today must appear like any other day. He recalled the words of Jim Davis: “To anyone watching you, nothing can be different about that day. Eat your meals as usual. Work in the fields as usual. Nothing can be different. Until everyone is asleep. That’s when our plan kicks in.”

  Danny gripped both fists tight and pounded his chest, but in a small and quiet way. His heart pounded with excitement.

  “Careful, Danny,” he told himself.

  Just to be sure, he looked to the flagpole one more time. He tried not to smile, not to celebrate. As before, the flag waved from its freedom perch, halfway up the pole.

  Danny sat by the morning campfire with the prisoners, as he always did. He sat as far way from Mr. Dime as possible.

  As he finished his coffee and rose to begin work, Danny took his hoe from the guard. Keeping a keen eye on Mr. Dime, he walked to the end of a long cotton row and began hoeing. Every few minutes he looked skyward, making sure the flag was half-mast.

  “I have to stop doing that,” he thought. “Nothing can be different about today.”

  The first sign of trouble came during lunch. Mr. Dime limped in from the fields.

  “I hurt my leg,” he said to a guard. “I’ve never asked for any favors. Can I take the afternoon off? Just let me spend the rest of the day in bed. I’ll be ready to go tomorrow morning.”

  The guards looked at each other. Dime had not been a problem for some time.

  “You must spend the day in the prisoner barracks,” the officer said. He pointed to a soldier. “You, take Mr. Dime to the barracks and stay with him!”

  Following a meal of brown beans, the prisoners returned to their work in the cotton fields. Danny knew that Mr. Dime could never be trusted.

  “But if a guard stays in the barracks with him, what trouble can he do?” he asked himself.

  An hour later, the guard returned to the fields.

  “He left Mr. Dime alone!” Danny thought. “Mr. Dime is just pretending to sleep.”

  Danny attacked his work, hoeing with a fury he had not felt since Jim Davis had his heart attack. The day crawled by. Something was happening back at the fort.
He knew it. But he also knew he could do nothing about it.

  As the sun neared the top of the mountains, signaling the end of the workday, Danny’s nightmare happened.

  POW! POW!

  Two shotgun blasts exploded from inside the fort. The guards sprinted to the gates.

  “Halt!” shouted the officer. “Don’t leave the prisoners!”

  The guards returned, but several more gunshots rang out from the fort.

  “Stay where you are!” the officer called out. “Gather the prisoners by the campfire. We will wait for orders.”

  Danny joined the other prisoners, minus Mr. Dime, in their usual places beneath the clump of trees.

  “The only enemy Mr. Dime has in the fort is Jim Davis,” Danny thought. “I hope he’s safe.”

  Danny wanted to dash to the fort, but he knew he would be shot. So, as he had done all day long, he waited. Soon the officer left the campsite and entered the fort.

  Darkness settled. A guard built a fire and put a pot of boiling water over the coals.

  “If we can’t have supper, we can at least have coffee,” he said.

  Everyone was quiet.

  “Too quiet,” thought Danny. “Mr. Dime planned something. I wonder what the prisoners know.”

  The officer returned and spoke to the guards in a hushed voice. Danny crept as close as he dared, trying to listen. He heard a few words he understood: “carpenter shop,” “killing,” “Mr. Dime.”

  “No!” Danny shouted.

  The guards turned to him with wide eyes. They had never heard Fire Eye speak a word of English! Danny hung his head and was silent.

  “Don’t be so stupid,” he warned himself.

  His mind was racing. Somebody was killed. In the carpenter shop.

  “I know Mr. Dime was there. He went after Jim Davis. That was his plan all along. First kill Jim Davis, then come after me.”

  He looked up to see a group of soldiers riding to the prisoners on horseback.

  “Whatever is happening, it is very serious,” thought Danny.

  The soldiers surrounded the prisoners. An officer Danny had never seen before stepped from his horse and moved toward the fire, facing the prisoners.

  “Stand up!” he shouted. “Now! Make a line and keep a distance between yourself and the next prisoner. You will march in line to the barracks. Anyone who makes a move will be shot. That order comes from the fort commander. You will be under close guard tonight.”