Walker of Time

by Helen Hughes Vick

  “Sure.” Tag slung Walker’s backpack onto his back, staring up at the cliff. “It doesn’t seem so scary now after all we have been through.” He turned to face Walker. “How many people do you think will leave with you tomorrow?”

  Walker shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Each person must decide. Those that can’t travel now because of the sickness . . .”

  Tag interrupted, “Like Small Cub.”

  Walker smiled and nodded. “Small Cub and the others will follow with White Badger in a few days when they can travel.”

  “Walker, I am sorry about Lone Eagle—I mean, your father.” Lightning lit up the dark, flat clouds in the canyon.

  “When I looked into his face at the shrine, I knew that Náat had sent the red cornmeal of the dead for his burial, not mine.” Sorrow welled up in Walker’s heart and worked its way through his body.

  Thunder filled the air between Walker and Tag.

  “I feel like I’m abandoning you,” Tag said, shifting the pack on his back. “It was the toughest decision I have ever had to make. I want to stay here to help you all, but . . .”

  “I know,” Walker said honestly. He thought about those dreadful minutes standing on the platform when self-doubt and fear had consumed him. He had been ready to turn his back on his people and run away from his responsibility. Then he had heard Náat’s voice in the thunder and had again looked into his people’s faces. In Great Owl’s eyes he had seen confidence. White Badger’s and Son of Great Bear’s faces spoke of total support and faith. In Flute Maiden’s eyes he had seen unconditional love. In that instant, he knew that these were truly his people. He could not turn his back on them. With Taawa’s help, he would lead and guide them.

  A bright flash of lightning brought Walker’s mind back to the present. Tag was studying his face. He realized Tag’s decision had been no easier for him to make, and it, too, was the correct one. But what would he do without him? Walker’s throat began to tighten. He swallowed hard. “You need to be with your people, Tag. I hope you make it back to them.”

  Tag nodded. “Good thoughts, positive thoughts, that is what Great Owl told me to think when I laid the prayer stick on the shrine. He also told me that as long as the conditions were right I could try more than once to get back.” A grin spread across Tag’s freckled face. “You know, I’d probably be disappointed if I made it back the first time.”

  Walker chuckled, shaking his head. Yes, he was certainly going to miss this friendly bahana. A wave of grief washed over him. He was losing one more person he had come to love.

  Tag said, “Just before I left, Great Owl said something else to me—something that makes me think it wasn’t just a coincidence that I tagged along with you.”

  Walker looked at him. Tag’s face matched his serious voice. “He said, ‘Now is the time for you to do what you were sent here for. There is much your people must learn from the mistakes of my people. If your people are going to survive, they, too, must learn to live in peace and harmony with each other and with Mother Earth.’ ”

  Lightning licked the clouds. Thunder sounded like a long drumroll in the sky.

  Tag stared down into the canyon. “Maybe, just maybe, there is a reason I was sent along with you,” he said with conviction. “Whatever time period I get zapped into, it will always be here in the canyon. If the timing is just right, I could be here when the ruins are first discovered by the white men. I can help preserve them and the story they have to tell.”

  Walker nodded. Somehow he knew that Tag was right.

  “No matter what time period I go to, I am going to help my people understand the importance of learning about the ancient ones—not only here at Walnut Canyon but all over the Southwest,” Tag stated. “At Mesa Verde, Chaco Canyon, Canyon de Chelly, and at thousands of other villages, ancient people just like your people are struggling to survive. They, too, will mysteriously just vanish. My people need to learn why these civilizations failed, so they don’t fail for the same reasons!” Tag stopped for a breath of air. His fists were clenched, his face etched in firm determination. “When I get back to my own time, I’m going to become an archaeologist. I am going to write a book about all this that will knock the socks off everybody!”

  Walker laughed and shook his head. “I would just settle for hearing how you explain all this to your dad.”

  Lightning snaked among the clouds.

  Tag grinned. “Don’t worry about that. When that time comes, I’ll just take him right down to Morning Flower’s home. I’ll show him my handprints that I left in the fresh mud plaster that the women put on after the baby was born. How can he doubt that?”

  Thunder roared.

  “Well,” Tag’s voice broke, “I—I’d best be on my way.” He shifted the bulky backpack and stepped up to the face of the cliff.

  A new sense of loss crept into Walker’s heart. “Tag.”

  Tag turned.

  Walker stuck out his hand to shake. He saw surprise in Tag’s teary eyes.

  “I’m glad you tagged along with me,” Walker said, as Tag pumped his hand. “I will miss you.” He pulled Tag to him and held him tight for a minute. He felt his friend’s heart beat against his own.

  Taawa, be with this son of yours, wherever he goes, prayed Walker, watching Tag scale up the cliff.

  “Remember, think good thoughts, positive thoughts,” Walker called up to Tag, when he had reached the top.

  Tag looked down at him. “I forgot to tell you that I think Flute Maiden has a real big crush on you,” Tag yelled down. “You lucky guy.” He waved and was gone.

  A cold chill raced through Walker. The final thread to the future was being cut, leaving him behind forever.

  “Now, I will kill you,” Gray Wolf’s snarling voice broke through the deathly silence.

  Startled, Walker pivoted to see Gray Wolf standing in the middle of the path just a few feet from him.

  “I will not be cheated again!” screeched Gray Wolf, raising a large stone knife.

  Walker had nowhere to go. To his back the path ended in a sheer drop-off, to his right was the cliff’s face; to his left was a hundred-foot fall into the canyon. The only way out was past Gray Wolf. Fear and anger filled Walker.

  With a deep animalistic growl, Gray Wolf rushed toward him, the knife extended. Walker bent his body forward defensively, his hands up. His heart pounded in his chest with such fury it felt as if would explode.

  Gray Wolf lunged at Walker. Lightning hit the cliff just above them, sending electrical currents sizzling through the air. The ground shifted and shook with a powerful explosion of spontaneous thunder. Tag has been zapped back, realized Walker, as he was knocked against the face of the cliff. Gray Wolf’s feet slipped out from beneath him. His body fell sideward, hitting the narrow path, and rolled toward the edge. Walker lunged for Gray Wolf. His hands grabbed Gray Wolf’s right arm just as Gray Wolf’s body fell over the cliff.

  Gray Wolf’s falling weight dragged Walker to the very edge. He lay on his stomach grasping Gray Wolf’s arm, looking down into Gray Wolf’s terror-stricken face. Gray Wolf’s body dangled in midair.

  “Reach up with your other arm,” Walker managed to say. His arms felt as if they were being wrenched out of their sockets. “Reach up!”

  Gray Wolf’s eye’s blazed with fear. He swung his other arm up, grabbing Walker’s arms. Walker’s body jerked forward.

  Walker pulled back with his entire body. He felt Gray Wolf working with him, trying to get himself up and over the edge. His feet must have found some footing because he came flopping over the edge with a sudden thrust, landing almost on top of Walker.

  Gray Wolf lay panting. Walker struggled to his feet, his heart still racing.

  “Why?” Gray Wolf asked in between breaths, looking up at Walker. “Why didn’t you let me fall?”

  The question shocked Walker back into reality. Why had he saved Gray Wolf? Why? The traditional ways taught that killing others brought only destruction to the killer an
d all those around him. Did this apply to a man who had repeatedly tried to kill him? Walker shook his head. His mind didn’t have a ready answer, but his heart did.

  “I came in peace and will take my people and leave in peace,” Walker stated with authority, looking down into Gray Wolf’s pale face. “I want no one’s blood on my hands, not even yours.”

  He felt Gray Wolf’s eyes burning on his back as he jogged down the path. Walker knew that he would again face Gray Wolf in battle—maybe not today or tomorrow, but some day.

  Walker stopped, shifting the weight of the heavy baskets strapped to his shoulders. Flute Maiden stopped a step behind him. Seeing her beautiful face looking at him filled his heart with warmth and peace.

  The call of an eagle echoed as it circled overhead.

  Náat’s words echoed in Walker’s mind, “Take your people home . . .”

  Walker looked beyond Flute Maiden to the narrow path leading out of the canyon. A line of people, his people, climbed the path . . . Men carrying spears and bows with huge baskets slung over their shoulders . . . Women with small infants in cradle boards bound to their backs and young children clinging to their hands . . . Older children following their parents, stopping often to look back toward their abandoned homes in the cliffs.

  Afterword

  Today, at the Hopi village of Mishongnovi, on Second Mesa, the Water Clan’s legends trace their ancestors to the ancient ruins found in a canyon that the bahanas call Walnut Canyon. Stories handed down century after century tell of a courageous young chief leading his people out of that canyon to settle and live on Second Mesa.

  About the Author

  Helen Hughes Vick is a teacher and freelance writer who has been widely published in textbooks and children’s magazines. A resident of northern Arizona, Ms. Vick has acquired firsthand experience with the Hopi culture through long-held personal friendships. That, coupled with a compelling interest in research, resulted in this work.