Uncertain Justice

Chapter 50

He met the People, as they called themselves ... short, dark-skinned men and women who lived in the city where he lay. Never very numerous, they fled the violence and cannibalism imported from the great civilization far to the south.

The People wandered north, away from the danger, eventually finding the little valley with the sparkling stream that never ran dry. It was as near paradise as they could imagine.

He wandered the city streets with the old man who spoke for the village. Not a chieftain--they had none--he was an elder who enjoyed the respect and support of many of the village and whose wisdom had been proven through the years. They walked the paths worn between the buildings of the old city. He watched as the walls were covered with an off-white ... almost a pale yellow ... plaster in his dream, making the city gleam brilliantly in the sun. Miles thought he saw a man in buckskins and a round hat of some kind duck into a room further along the ledge. A young woman of the ancient ones followed him in but paused to give Miles a quick smile before she disappeared.

The old one--he'd lived nearly fifty years when the average lifespan was only thirty--led him down a path from the largest of the kivas to a vantage point inside the cave where the stream disappeared underground. At the end of the path, Miles edged out onto a wide outcrop of stone that hung over the falling water and stood, mesmerized as enormous volumes of water plunged down into the darkness of the deep cave. As he watched, he saw many things.

He saw a sober young boy who stayed on the sidelines; he was never asked to join in the neighborhood children's games. He spent too much time reading alone in his room. The youth, friendless in his fourth school in six years, stood alone in the hallway and pretended not to notice other boys and girls walking by.

Miles watched as the lonely man stumble into a marriage that had no chance of succeeding and watched as the man immersed himself in soldiering. The man's few acquaintances dropped away as he traveled to new places. He slipped into early middle age.

Miles saw the trial, predetermined for a bleak conclusion, and saw a momentary bright spark of purpose as the morose man struggled and broke away, refusing to give in to the obscenity. The images drifted away, their power to hurt lessening as they went.

He stood quietly watching the swiftly flowing current. Looking into the depths, he felt the unbroken darkness beckoning; it was comforting and alluring in its serenity. There was peace in the abyss. There was no turmoil there, but with nothing to interrupt the blandness, neither was there anything to achieve.

Turning to look back up at the cave's entrance, he studied the luminous green cataract. Rushing water lashed out where granite outcrops impeded its progress and surged against boulders too massive to wash away and too tough for even centuries of friction to grind into smaller rocks and pebbles. White water foamed over barely hidden rocks thrusting into the current. Sunshine lit everything, dimming with the passing of clouds only to return more brilliantly than before. A bright, multicolored flash caught his eye at the very top as a big rainbow trout successfully escaped the current's hold and broke free to make his way back upstream.

After a long moment, he backed away from the spray-dampened edge. Carefully, but almost casually, he made his way along the slick precipice up the trail to where the elders waited for him in silence. Their hands fluttered over him, patting him reassuringly and congratulating him on his choice as they escorted him into to the city. He protested quietly but with strength. There had been no choosing ... there had been no need for one. They looked in his eyes and saw that it was true. The spirit in this man was stronger than they had known.

The elders spoke with him, explaining how mankind entered and left the world through the Sipapu. They gestured to the path they walked upon and to the river running alongside. Though the pathway and the river traveled in different directions at times, they were parts of one unity.

The spiral of life included all things. He listened and was comforted. Many of the People met the group as they returned to the big kiva, their smiles wide and congratulatory. He luxuriated in the sense of belonging that came to him. He sat with the People and became one of them.

He watched the children play in the huge domed hollow in the cliff. They were sometimes perilously near the drop-off. Their parents laughed at his distress--he could barely sit still--when the children played their games racing along the very edge. The adults were proud of their youth's physical mastery of their environment. The skills learned scampering along the high ledges contributed to their chances of surviving as they grew to adulthood. Still, Miles saw some of them scold offspring who went too far, edging into recklessness.

He watched the elders as they met to judge a young farmer's request to add to the holding he already farmed. They turned to other things, wondering at the meaning behind the stars in the night sky. The wise folk of the village sat and talked of many things in the lengthening shadows. The setting sun reflected off the smooth walls of the city, creating a golden afterglow as the People gathered about their evening dinner fires. He watched the big albino hawk as it carved huge circles in the sky above. He was the hawk as it soared high, watching the pitiful land-bound creatures below.

§

When Miles woke, it was late afternoon and past time to head for home. He had no desire to attempt to cross the bridge again in the dark--not when he knew what lay a few hundred yards downstream. He shivered with a sudden chill that could not have been caused by the warm southern wind that blew in his face.

He stretched stiff muscles and buckled on the fanny pack and pistol belt. He stepped off briskly, making short work of the trip along the opening of the cavern and the path beyond. His feet automatically found the best purchase on the rock and the better path among several options.

He was home well before dark, ravenously hungry and fatigued far beyond the effort he'd expended during the day. He fell asleep even as the question of why formed in his mind. He dreamed again that night, his head filling with a vastness and glory that had been.

§

Every clan in the village honored him. The bear clan claimed him as one of their own from the start. They'd watched him as he fought and mortally wounded the big grizzly and given their approval as he put the animal out of its misery with his pistol. Dreaming the bear would have provided a feast the entire city could have enjoyed, Miles was full of pride at his contribution. Membership in the Bear Clan elevated Miles to a position of respect throughout the city.

Miles expressed his awe at the construction of the dams that allowed the People to farm the fields across the river from the city. When he spoke of the few bits of knowledge gleaned from television documentaries about Hoover Dam, the Water Clan invited him into their midst.

He walked with the farmers in the cornfields across the river from the city--the huge overhanging ridge of the mountain had not yet fallen in the massive landslide--impressed at the richness of the soil and size of the harvest. He spoke of rotating the crops, something he remembered from a great uncle who farmed the bottomland in a far Texas county. The Corn Clan boasted Miles was surely a wise man in his own land and welcomed him to their kiva whenever he could come.

When they heard how far he had hiked in his adventure, the Wolf Clan proclaimed him one of those honored few who were responsible for scouting the trails ahead when the People traveled. The men of the Wolf Clan laughed at Miles in the beginning, politely making fun of his ankle-high hiking boots.

They scolded him, saying this was no way for a hunter to prowl the woods. Tentatively, he discarded the hard-soled boots in favor of flexible deerskin. In time, he grew used to the unconfining footwear. With constant exercise, his legs strengthened and he was able to run the ridges and trails with the best of the Wolf Clan, though his greater weight and size kept him from winning any of the sprints the Wolf Clan enjoyed.

In short races, his reflexes and quickness put him two paces ahead of the others after three steps. By the sixth footfall, though, he was always behind. On long distance runs though, his longer legs made him one of the front-runners and the folk cheered the time he beat the city's champion.

The Bear and Wolf Clans were charged with the safety of the city and he learned many things from his brothers in those Clans. They taught him much about stalking, how to keep hidden until within short reach of deer and other game. The time came when he could slip through a thicket, camouflaged with a deerskin draped over his shoulders, without spooking a herd of elk feeding there. With his developing powers of observation, he found it easy to absorb the skill of reading the slightest sign of animal or human presence.

The day Miles tracked his teacher over stretches of bare rock, running rivers and impossible terrain to surprise him as he dozed in his blankets beside a campfire, Miles was accepted as an honored warrior and hunter. They congratulated him for his skill with the pistol and crossbow, deciding they made up for his inability to use a bow and arrow or throwing stick.

They pitted him against young boys and women who could shoot rings around Miles with the bow. Waiting to see what Miles would do, they squatted and nudged each other with knowing glances. When Miles laughed at his own lack of skill, the whole city laughed with him. The walls of the huge cavern echoed with great booming laughter that ended only for evening prayers to honor the sun that had warmed them that day.

§

There came a time when the elders selected him to accompany a party of wolf brothers in a scouting expedition to the south west toward the lower passes. A trader from another city had reported an armed group somewhere in that direction.

The warriors of the Bear clan found the intruders and watched them from hidden places for several days. They placed symbols of the People where the strangers could not help but see. These proclaimed the land as belonging to the People and warned the foreigners to leave.

But they would not leave the land in peace and the People were forced to take action. One night, they crept into the enemy camp past a sleepy--and soon dead--guard and cut the throats of everyone they found except one. When he was awakened in the early dawn, the youngster ... not long past the ceremony of manhood ... was defiant at first but became despondent as he stared at the gaping wounds in his companion's throats.

He was sent home to his tribe with the message that all invaders would be similarly treated. They had been courteously warned not to come to the valley of the People but the trespassers had disregarded the message. The bodies were left where they lay for the vultures and coyotes as a further warning for others.