Nightway (7 page)

Twice in that week, Hawk saw his father. Each time he was asked how he was getting along, and if there was anything he needed. Hawk had seen into his father’s empty blue eyes and had known he didn’t want to hear the answers to the questions. So he didn’t speak of the strangeness and the loneliness he found. Instead, he made the replies he knew his father wanted to hear.

On Monday, he was to start his first day at the white man’s school. He was ready to leave early, nervous and unsure of what new changes the school would bring. Would it be like the Reservation? Would the teachers strike your hand with a ruler if you were heard speaking Navaho? A white school would not permit Navaho to be spoken, Hawk decided. He tried not to think about his new classmates.

With his coat on and his hair slicked down, he stood at the kitchen window, waiting with a seeming impassivity while little Carol had her golden hair combed and adorned with ribbons. On this day, the man, Rawlins, would take them to school. After that, they would ride the bus.

“You’re going to get overheated with that coat on, Hawk.” Rawlins was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and watching his wife combing his daughter’s hair. “Why don’t you go outside and wait?” he suggested. “Carol will be ready soon.”

Hawk accepted the suggestion with alacrity, leaving the house on nearly soundless footsteps. The frosty air nipped at his face and made clouds of his breath. Hawk was gripped by the desire to run from this place and strike out for the north and the hogans of his relatives. His gaze was drawn past the trees to the white house where his father lived. He saw him walking from the house to a car parked in front of it, but his father wasn’t wearing the sheepskin-lined parka or blue jeans. He had on a long, dark coat that flapped around his knees and dark pants. A raw sense of forboding shook Hawk. He broke into a run to race through the trees, an unnamed fear tearing at him. His father was standing in front of the car, waiting, when Hawk reached him. Beneath the partially buttoned coat, Hawk could see the suit and tie his father wore.

“Are you going with us to school?” He searched his father’s face for an explanation and caught the flicker of guilt that crossed his expression.

“No. I’m going to Phoenix … on business. I was on my way over to Tom’s to tell you good-bye.” He avoided Hawk’s eyes as he glanced at the car keys in his hand.

Dread crawled across Hawk’s skin. “When will you come back?”

“I don’t know. Not for a while.” The expressive roundness of the blue eyes staring up at him pulled the man down to crouch in front of Hawk. “Try to understand, Hawk. I have to get away. I can’t stay here anymore because it’s too easy to believe she’s at the hogan waiting for me. There is so much here to remind me of her—too many things that haunt my memory. I need to be in different surroundings for a while. I’ll come back. I’ve gone away before, haven’t I?”

But this time was different. His father was the solid rock he could hold onto in this shifting world that seemed to constantly change like the shifting sands of the desert. Hawk didn’t understand this need to have his father nearby, so he couldn’t express it. His only reply was to stare at his father in a mute plea.

“You’re going to have a lot to do—what with school and helping Tom. You won’t even notice I’m gone.” His father struggled to convince Hawk that his departure was of minor importance. “I want you to pay attention in school and do the homework the teacher gives you. It’s important for you to learn everything you can. Tom and Vera will look after you.”

Light footsteps approached the car. At the sound of them, Hawk turned his head toward the house. It was the woman called Katheryn who was his father’s first wife. Her eyes regarded him with displeasure again, but the look was gone when she glanced at his father.

“I thought you said you were leaving right away, J. B.?” There was a question in her voice.

“I am.” He straightened after a last glance at Hawk and walked to the driver’s side of the car. Holding the door open, he paused. “Good luck on your first day at school, Hawk.” Then his gaze slid to the woman with the fur hood. “Good-bye, Katheryn.”

“Don’t forget to call me tonight,” she instructed with a stiff smile.

His answer was a saluting wave of his hand as he slid behind the wheel. When the motor was started, Hawk moved out of the car’s path and watched it drive away. He felt abandoned. His gaze was drawn to the beautiful woman standing on the other side of the driveway. There was a certain forlorn look to her expression that seemed to echo his feelings.

“Hawk!” Tom Rawlins’ shouted call summoned him back to the house.

Adjusting to the new school was difficult for Hawk. Because of the low score on a test he had taken, he was placed in a class of students younger than he was. Not only was he older, but he was also much taller, so he always stood out from the others. The students, especially those in his age group, taunted him mercilessly. Instead of making comments about his blue eyes and waving black hair, the remarks they made referred to the copper tan of his skin, or they laughed at his name.

Although Hawk already knew he was different, the experience hammered the point home. He was diligent in his studies. Not because he wanted to excel and prove to the others he was as intelligent as they were—that wasn’t the way of The People. He learned because there was value in knowledge.

His life settled into a routine once he started school. When he came to Rawlins’ house after school was finished in the afternoon, he was made to change his clothes. From there, he went immediately in search of Rawlins to do his share of work. After the evening meal was over, he would do his homework until it was time for bed.

During the month his father was gone, Katheryn made several visits to the Rawlins’ house while he was at school. Hawk knew this because on the days she came, there remained a lingering trace of the wildflower scent in the house when he returned from school. On those occasions, he would sit on the sofa where the fragrance was the strongest and read his assignments. Enveloped by the warm smell of her, he could almost pretend that somebody cared.

It was nearly one month from the day he left that J. B. Faulkner returned to the ranch. Hawk was on his way to the barns to help with the evening chores when he saw the car driving in. Work was forgotten as he raced to meet him, memories of other homecomings running fresh in his mind.

“You’re back!” A reckless smile split his face.

“I told you I would come back, didn’t I?” his father chided with affectionate huskiness as he reached inside the car to lift out a gaily wrapped package. “I brought something for you.”

Hawk fell to his knees and immediately began tearing away the brightly colored paper to get at the box it covered. Inside was a plaid western shirt like the cowboys on the ranch wore. Hawk held it up with pride.

“I thought you’d like it,” his father said, viewing Hawk’s expression with satisfaction.

“Are you passing out presents, J. B.?” The challenging question came from his father’s first wife, who had walked around the hood of the car. Beside her was the tall boy, her son and Hawk’s half-brother. Hawk had not seen him since that first meeting. His half-brother called Chad did not attend the same school that Hawk did, but lived at an exclusive boys’ academy, so Hawk had heard. Outside of a cursory glance at their first approach, neither of the two paid any attention to him.

“Hello, Katheryn, Chad.” His father turned to greet both of them. The smile did not quite reach his eyes, but there was pride in his look when he shook hands with his older son. “I’m glad to see you made it home for the weekend, Chad.”

“Yes, sir.” The crisp nod seemed to match the severely squared shoulders and the artificially erect posture.

“What did you bring Chad?” Katheryn repeated the question that wasn’t answered earlier.

The hesitation was almost imperceptible. “Nothing. Chad already has two of everything.”

“Do you mean that you bought that Indian boy something and you don’t have a gift for your own son?” Her voice was cold with anger.

His father stiffened, then relaxed with a heavy sigh. “That is precisely what I mean. Shall we continue this discussion some other time? I’ve had a long drive and I’m tired.”

The rigidity left the woman’s expression. “Of course you are. Chad, go in the house and pour your father a glass of whiskey.” She moved to link her arm with his father’s and guide him toward the house. “Don’t bother about the luggage, J. B. I’ll send someone out to fetch it.”

Hawk watched the trio disappear into the house before his gaze fell to the brightly colored shirt in his hands. A wind rustled the paper it had been wrapped in. It was an empty sound.

Shortly after his father’s return, there was an unexpected addition to Hawk’s nightly routine of chores, homework, and bed. Since Carol was only seven years old, her bedtime was much earlier than his. It was always a drawn-out affair because she would try to wheedle a few extra moments. When that failed, she kissed her mother good night, then her father, and persuaded him to take her to the kitchen for a drink of water. Only after that would she go to bed.

This night, after her drink of water, she stopped beside the kitchen chair where Hawk was studying and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, Hawk,” she declared gaily and skipped away.

At the touch of her lips, he had recoiled instantly,
shocked by what she had done. In the Navaho belief, any contact with members of the opposite sex within the same clan was strictly forbidden, no matter how distant a relative was. He glanced sharply at Rawlins, expecting him to be angry with his daughter. Instead, the man was smiling.

“Is it permitted for her to do that?” Hawk questioned warily.

“Of course.” Rawlins laughed at the question and wandered into the front room.

As far as Hawk was concerned, there was only one conclusion to be drawn from the answer. Although he lived in Rawlins’ house, he had not been taken in as a member of their clan. He was separate from them.

Through the long winter and into spring, Hawk rarely saw his father. The trip to Phoenix turned out to be the first of many. Before he left and each time he came back, his father would seek out Hawk and, depending on the length of his return visits, would see him several times in between. The discussions were either instructive or related to how Hawk was doing with various school subjects. Never was Hawk asked how he was adjusting to his new life, how he was getting along with the Rawlinses, or if he missed the Reservation life.

Always the time spent with his father was alone. No one else was ever included. Each time his father came back from a trip, he brought Hawk a present. One time it was a shiny new pocketknife, another time a leather belt, and so on. Hawk had no way of knowing whether Chad received a gift, too.

By the time school closed for the summer, he had learned the meaning of words like “bastard,” “mistress,” and “illegitimate.” Listening to the conversations
of the cowboys, Hawk heard the contempt they held for most of the Indians.

Gradually, it became apparent to him that his father felt shame … shame because Hawk had been born on the wrong side of the blanket and because his mother was an “Indian squaw.” That was why his father only saw him alone.

There were times when he remembered wistfully what it had been like when his mother was alive. Seated at the table, he would stare at slices of the soft, white bread. His mouth would wish for the taste of the tortilla-like bread his mother used to make. He would lie in bed at night, listening to the creaking of the wood house, and long to hear the comforting repetitious chants of the “sings.” Sometimes he would sing them to himself, but he had to do it softly, or else the woman Rawlins would come to his room and whip him with her stinging tongue.

The advent of summer meant spending most of every daylight hour outside. It was taken for granted that he would work. The cowboys had grown used to having him around all the time and had ceased to regard him as an oddity. Sometimes they even included him in their jokes and laughter. Hawk had such a natural aptitude and an eagerness to learn that they were always giving him tips and pointers.

The first week of June, Chad came home to the ranch for the summer. The first few days after his return, Hawk saw little of him. Late one afternoon he had just finished his assigned task of cleaning out two of the barn stalls when Chad walked in.

“Have you see my father?” Chad followed Hawk to the water hydrant that stood by the horse troughs in the corral. “We’re supposed to go riding this afternoon.”

“No.” Hawk turned on the faucet and bent to drink
from the running water, the excess spilling in to fill the horse tank.

“He’ll probably be here shortly,” Chad replied with unconcern and rested the toe of his boot on the bottom rail of the corral fence. With his thirst slaked, Hawk shut off the hydrant and glanced at his half-brother. There was nothing in his expression to indicate his presence was unwanted. A natural curiosity to know more about this stranger who was his relative kept Hawk by the corral fence. Chad sent a sidelong glance his way, then let his gaze sweep over the area. “All this is going to be mine someday,” he announced, then looked back at him and said nothing. “I know who you are.” He began to study Hawk with a quiet kind of curiosity. “I’ve heard my mother talk about you.”

“What does she say?” The fascination he felt for his father’s first wife had increased over the months until Hawk became totally entranced by her.

But Chad wasn’t interested in answering Hawk’s question. “Was your mother really a Navaho?”

“Yes.” Hawk could read no contempt in his half-brother’s face.

“Have you ever been to any of their ceremonies?” he wondered.

“Yes.”

“Jess Hanks, this friend of mine at school, says that they carry rattlesnakes in their mouth.”

“The Hopi does this in his snake dance,” Hawk explained.

“Don’t they get bit?”

“Sometimes.” Hawk shrugged to show it was unimportant.

Chad digested that and looked around disinterestedly. “Is it true your mother was a whore and that she would sleep with anyone my father told her to?”