Authors: Alan Evans
Hawk tapped Shane on the shoulder and handed him a
pair of binoculars. He pointed to a ridge across the pasture. Overlooking the
herd was a magnificent stallion. He was an impressive blood bay with a black
mane and tail and four white stockings. This charismatic horse was the epitome
of great conformation, muscle, and class.
“That’s Naatea-Poha,” Hawk said. “He’s thirteen
years old and has been the lead stallion
for the last ten years. He’s the daddy to about two-thirds of those
younger ones. We geld most of the colts at our yearly branding. But we always
make sure there are at least three quality stallions in the herd. This keeps
inbreeding from being a problem. That’s one of the reasons, along with a good
natural food source and warm winters here in the valley, they get so big and
stay so healthy.”
“He’s one hell of a horse!” Shane commented as he
studied the stallion through the binoculars. “What did you call him?”
Hawk smiled and politely repeated the Shoshone
words,
Naatea-Poha
.
The last
thing Shane wanted to do was irritate Hawk or JB with too many questions, but
he reluctantly asked, “What does it mean?”
After a short pause, surprisingly it was JB who
spoke. “Many years ago one of the foundation sires of our herd was called
Poha
. This word means ‘power.’
The old stories tell of
Poha
as a
great horse that looked much like this one, who is his direct descendant. We
usually just call this stallion by the first part of his name,
Naatea
. This word roughly
translates to mean a blood relative.”
Shane thought for a second. “So, his full name means
that he is of the same bloodlines as
Poha
the
powerful.”
Hawk nodded with a smirk. “The Shoshone language can
be tricky to translate into English, but basically, yes, that is what Naatea’s
full name means.” He then told Shane to stay put while he and JB went down to
get a good count.
Shane sat there and watched the herd in awe. They
were incredible, and knowing about their history made them even more
impressive. He felt privileged to be here witnessing these unique, free ranging
horses, still existing as they had for centuries. It gave him a sense of
inspiration he hadn’t expected.
Suddenly, something spooked
the herd. In an amazing example of unity, they banded together and moved at
full speed toward the lead stallion, Naatea, before disappearing with him over
the next hill
.
When the two Shoshone returned, Shane asked, “What
scared them?”
“Who knows,” Hawk answered. “It could have been a
bear they caught wind of. The truth is, they’ve been chased almost every week
lately by those jerks from town, so it doesn’t take much to set them off right
now. We’ll spend the afternoon looking for any traps they may have set.”
Shane wondered aloud, “Why do these guys spend so
much time out here trying to catch the horses?”
JB answered. “They used to only come up here a
couple of times a year. It’s always been a game for them to try to steal the
mustangs. The sons of bitches think it is funny to piss us off this way. They
know how important the horses are to our tribe.”
“Do you have any idea why they’re coming after the
herd so often now?”
“We don’t know,” Hawk said. “But lately they’ve been
a lot more aggressive. We already told you they shot over our heads with rifles
last week. We had to ride up a steep slope to get away. That’s when they sent
their dogs to attack us. We had no choice, but to shoot a couple of the
mongrels.”
Shane was beginning to wish he’d brought his rifle.
He’d left it at the cabin, figuring he wouldn’t need it. Next time he would
know better. “Where are we going now?”
Hawk replied, “We’re riding to the north side of the
valley, where the horse thieves always come in. If we see fresh tracks, we’ll
follow them to their trap. They usually set up stock panels in a place where
they can use rock walls to funnel the horses into their traps. With
Naatea
at the lead, the mustangs
are hard to trick. Still, if they get enough men on horseback, they could
potentially catch a lot of them. That’s why it’s important for us to come up
here every week.”
Shane commented, “It still doesn’t make any sense
that these guys are spending so much time and money coming out here so often.
Do you think there could be some other reason they want to get rid of the
herd?”
“We can’t figure it out,” said Hawk. “Whether it is
for fun, spite, or money, they sure are hell-bent on trying to catch our
horses. We’re worried that if they keep up this kind of pressure on the herd,
the horses may leave this area in search of safer ground. The fact is they
could not survive the winters if they didn’t live in this protected
valley.”
The three men finally arrived at the north entrance.
There were no fresh signs of the men from town today so the Mustangs were safe,
at least for the time being. The trio rode back to the truck and trailer,
satisfied the day was a success.
During the long, bumpy ride to the ranch, Shane,
again, broke the silence. “With Naatea being as smart as he is, how do you
catch the horses every year to brand the weanlings?”
Hawk hesitated to answer. After
a brief pause, in a reluctant voice, he said, “We pen the herd early in the
winter, before the roads become deep with snow. This is the only way in here
that time of year. The north accesses that the white men use are impassable
then. On this side of the canyon, there is a place that only we know about.
It’s the lowest area in the valley and is well hidden, even from an airplane.
This protected area keeps its grass and other foliage longer than anywhere else
in the valley. It is unlikely that the white men could find this place on their
own, and Naatea is too clever to lead them to it
.
“When it’s branding time, everyone on the ranch
comes out to help. JB and I will go out weeks earlier and set up feeders with
grain and hay, so that the herd will get comfortable coming in. When we
organize the branding, we do it Shoshone-style. Unlike the white men who would
try to chase the mustangs into a trap, we are very patient. Sometimes it takes
us two or three days to quietly move them into the meadow. When the horses do
get into our secret valley, they are calm and settled.
“Once we have the pass closed off, we will go in
quietly and set up sorting pens with portable stock panels. Only a few of us
will do the actual branding. We take our time, so we don’t upset the mustangs
any more than we have to. When we are finished we take down the pens and leave
the herd in the meadow with the pass still closed. We keep them there, so they
can feed and put on weight to help get them through the winter.
“After a couple of weeks, we reopen the pass. We
don’t feed them any more after this. If we did, it might make them soft and
spoil them, and they could lose their wild state. Then they’d be an easy catch
for the wrong people.”
When they got back to the ranch, Shane offered a
handshake to each of them, but only Hawk reached out for Shane’s hand. JB just
turned to open the trailer. As soon as Tory was out, Shane started toward the
barn.
He was almost there when he heard JB call, “Hey,
white man!” Shane looked back and saw Tigee standing at the trailer with the
other two. JB yelled out, “He wants you to go back out with us next week.”
Shane could tell the two Indians weren’t happy about this, but they would do as
the old man wanted.
Shane hollered back, “Just let me know when.”
It had been a long day, and Shane was ready to eat a
good meal and get some rest. As he started walking to his cabin from the barn,
he looked at the mountains in the distance. He paused at the sight, and took in
a long, deep breath. A heartfelt sense of satisfaction slowly overcame him. He
had finally located the herd. This was a big step toward finally fulfilling
Jacob’s wish.
As he walked to his porch, he was startled to hear a
voice, “Hello, mister.” Tommy had watched him unload and was patiently sitting
on the porch, waiting.
“Hey, bud, I didn’t see you sitting there.”
The young boy smiled, “You know how Indians are, if
you don’t watch out, we’ll sneak right up on you.”
Shane laughed at the joke and invited him inside.
“What can I do for you?” he asked while he scrounged around the kitchen looking
for his coffee cup.
Tommy wasted no time answering. “Mister, I was
wondering if I could do some work for you. I asked you before about trading for
more help with some horses I’m breaking. You make it look so easy. I’d really
like to learn how you do it. Like I told you, I don’t have any money, but I can
clean, feed your horses, or do whatever you want.”
Shane appreciated the kid’s willingness to earn his
way. “You meet me at the barn at seven sharp. I’ll show you how to do the
morning feedings. After that, I have some tack that needs cleaning. When you’re
done, we’ll play with your horses.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll be there.” With that said, the boy
bounded out the door.
That night, Shane fell asleep early. He slept
soundly until two a.m. when he was awakened by a dream. He guessed it was the
crisp mountain air coming in through the open window that had him dreaming so
vividly. He often dreamed about his family. The dreams were usually about
familiar things that had actually happened in the past. Things like playing
with the kids or reliving a conversation with Jen. He’d learned over time not
to let them bother him. However, this one was different.
This time the images surrounding him were shockingly
more three-dimensional. Jen stood in front of him, just as if in real life,
pointing up to a high cliff. On the top of this cliff were at least twenty
Indians mounted on horses. They were all wearing long headdresses and their
horses were painted with bright war paint. One of the warriors galloped his
horse to the edge of the drop off, sliding to a stop at the last possible
moment. He held a spear high over his head and shook it while he yelled out
some native-sounding words.
Then Shane
looked back over at Jen and heard her say very clearly, “They’re asking for
your help.” Never before, in his many dreams of Jennifer had her presence
seemed so real, so absolutely physical. Shane inhaled deeply as her familiar,
appealing scent filled the air around him. He slowly lifted his hand to touch
her face, but she was standing just out of reach. Before he could ask her what
the Indians wanted him to do, he abruptly woke up. Shane laid there in an
almost panicked state of confusion for quite some time.
The dream jogged a
long-forgotten memory of a similar one he had a few years ago, when his family
was alive. He recalled the despair he’d felt during the dream, along with the
odd message an Indian had spoken. “Stay on your path, and you’ll find what you
have lost
.”
Looking back now, he wondered if he’d had some kind
of premonition of the terrible tragedy that changed his life.
If another person told him they were having these
strange dreams and interpreting them this way, he would probably think they
were off their rocker. But, this wasn’t someone else, and he could not shake
the feeling that there was some kind of an eerie connection between the two
dreams. It took him a while to put this all out of his mind and finally fall
back asleep.
Chapter 11
The next morning, Tommy was in the barn waiting. He already had one of
Shane’s saddles sitting on a rail and was cleaning it as Shane walked in.
“Mornin’ bud, follow me and I’ll show you what else I want you to do.” After
Shane gave Tommy his instructions, he told the boy he’d be back in a couple of
hours to help him with his horses.
Just as Shane started to leave, the boy pointed to
something lurking near the barn. It was still dark outside, and all Shane could
see was some movement in the early morning mist. “What are you pointing at,
Tommy?”
“They were following you over to your porch last
night, too.”
“What the hell is it?” Shane asked quizzically.
Tommy laughed, “I think they may want to eat you. I
guess they never tasted a white man.”
Then Shane saw in the dim morning light what was
stalking him. It was the two wolf pups he had seen Tigee trying to hand-feed.