thillerman.theblessingway-第6章

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　〃Did　you　see　that　concho　hatband？　Why　would　anybody　steal　an　old　felt　hat　and　leave　behind　all　that　fancy　silver？〃
　They　had　passed　Chinle　now；　Leaphorn　driving　the　white　carryall　at　a　steady　seventy。　The　highway　skirted　the　immense；　lifeless　depression　which　falls　away　into　the　Biz…E…Ahi　and　Nazlini　washes。　It　was　lit　now　by　the　sunset；　a　fantastic　jumble　of　eroded　geological　formations。　The　white　man　sees　the　desolation　and　calls　it　a　desert；　McKee　thought；　but　the　Navajo　name　for　it　means　〃Beautiful　Valley。〃
　〃Can　you　tell　me　why　that　man　would　lie　about　somebody　stealing　his　hat？〃　Leaphorn　asked。　His　face　was　intent　with　the　puzzle。　〃Or；　if　he　wasn't　lying；　who　would　steal　an　old　felt　hat　and　leave　that　silver　band　behind？〃
　
　Chapter　5
　
　Joseph　Begay　awakened　earlier　than　usual。　He　lay　still　a　moment；　allowing　consciousness　to　seep　through　him；　noticing　first　the　pre…dawn　chill　and　that　his　wife　had　captured　most　of　the　blankets　they　shared。　Then　he　registered　the　rain　smells；　dampened　dust；　wet　sage；　pi？on　resin　and　buffalo　grass。　Now　fully　awake；　he　remembered　the　sudden　midnight　shower　which　had　awakened　them　in　the　brush　arbor　and　driven　the　family　to　shelter　in　the　hogan。　Through　the　open　hogan　door；　he　saw　the　eastern　horizon　was　not　yet　brightening　behind　the　familiar　upthrusting　shape　of　Mount　Taylor；　seventy　miles　away　in　New　Mexico。　Reaches　for　the　Sky　was　one　of　the　four　sacred　mountains　which　marked　the　four　corners　of　the　Land　of　the　People；　and　Joseph　Begay　thought；　as　he　had　thought　many　mornings；　that　he　had　chosen　this　site　well。　The　old　hogan　which　he　and　his　brothers…in…law　had　built　near　his　mother…in…law's　place　had　been　located　on　low　ground；　near　water　but　closed　in　with　the　hills。　He　had　never　liked　the　site。　When　the　son　they　had　called　Long　Fingers　had　died　of　the　choking　sickness　in　the　night…died　so　suddenly　that　they　had　not　had　time　to　move　him　out　of　the　hogan　so　that　the　ghost　could　go　free…he　had　not　been　sorry　that　they　had　to　leave　the　site。　He　had　boarded　up　the　door　himself　and　covered　the　smoke　hole　so　the　ghost　of　Long　Fingers　would　not　bother　his　in…law　people　and　had　decided　right　away　that　this　place　on　the　mesa　would　be　the　place　for　the　new　hogan。
　And；　when　he　had　built　it；　he　had　not　faced　the　door　exactly　east　as　the　Old　People　had　said　it　must　be　faced；　but　very　slightly　north　of　east　so　that　when　he　awoke　in　the　morning　he　would　see　Reaches　for　the　Sky　outlined　by　the　dawn；　and　remember　that　it　was　a　place　of　beauty　where　Changing　Woman　had　borne　the　Hero　Twins。　It　would　be　a　good　thought　to　awaken　with；　and　because　he　had　not　made　the　door　exactly　east　he　had　been　very　careful　to　follow　the　Navajo　Way　with　the　remainder　of　the　construction。　He　had　driven　a　peg　and　used　a　rope　to　mark　off　the　circle　to　assure　that　the　hogan　wall　would　be　round　and　of　the　prescribed　circumference。　He　had　put　the　smoke　hole　in　exactly　the　proper　place　and；　when　he　had　plastered　the　stones　with　adobe；　he　had　sprinkled　a　pinch　of　corn　pollen　on　the　mud　and　sung　the　song　from　the　Blessing　Way。
　Joseph　Begay　slipped　off　the　pallet　and　pulled　on　his　pants　and　shirt；　moving　silently　in　the　darkness　to　avoid　awakening　his　wife　and　two　sons；　who　slept　across　the　hogan。　He　moved　around　their　feet；　with　the　Navajo's　unconscious　care　not　to　step　over　another　human　being；　and　ducked　through　the　door。　His　boots；　forgotten　in　the　brush　arbor；　were　only　slightly　damp。　He　put　them　on　as　he　heated　water　for　a　cup　of　coffee。
　He　was　a　short；　round…faced　man　with　the　barrel　chest　characteristic　of　a　Navajo…Pueblo　blood　mixture；　from　a　clan　which　had　captured　Pueblo　brides　and　with　them　the　heavier；　shorter　bone　structure　of　the　Keresan　Indians。　He　poured　the　coffee　into　a　mug　and　sipped　it　while　he　ate　a　strip　of　dried　mutton。　The　rain　had　been　light；　a　brief　shower；　but　it　was　a　good　omen。
　He　knew　the　Callers　of　the　Clouds　had　been　at　work　on　the　Hopi　and　Zu？i　reservations　and　that　along　the　Rio　Grande；　far　to　the　east；　the　Pueblo　Indians　were　holding　their　rain　dances。　The　magic　of　these　pueblo　dwellers　had　always　been　strong；　older　than　the　medicine　of　the　Navajos　and　more　potent。　It　was　a　little　early　for　this　first　shower　and　Begay　knew　that　was　promising。
　Begay　finished　his　coffee　before　he　allowed　his　thoughts　to　turn　to　his　reasons　for　rising　early。　In　a　very　few　hours　he　would　see　his　daughter；　his　daughter　whom　he　hadn't　seen　since　last　summer。　He　would　drive　to　the　bus　stop　at　Ganado；　and　the　bus　would　e　and　he　would　put　her　suitcases　and　her　boxes　in　the　pickup　truck　and　drive　with　her　back　to　the　hogan。　She　would　be　with　them　all　summer。　Begay　had　deliberately　postponed　thinking　about　this；　because　the　Navajo　Way　was　the　Middle　Way；　which　avoided　all　excesses…even　of　happiness。　The　shower　at　midnight　and　the　smell　of　the　earth　and　the　beauty　of　the　morning　had　been　enough。　But　now　Begay　thought　of　it　as　he　started　the　pickup　truck　and　drove　in　second　gear　down　the　bumpy　track　across　the　mesa。　And；　as　he　drove；　he　sang　a　song　his　great　uncle　had　taught　him：
　〃I　usually　walk　where　the　rains　fall。
　Below　the　east　I　walk。
　I　being　Born　of　Water；
　I　usually　walk　where　the　rains　fall。
　Within　the　dawn　I　walk。
　
　I　usually　walk　where　the　rains　fall。
　Among　the　white　corn　I　walk。
　Among　the　soft　goods　I　walk。
　Among　the　collected　waters　I　walk。
　Among　the　pollen　I　walk。
　I　usually　walk　where　the　rain　falls。〃
　It　was　brightening　on　the　eastern　horizon　as　he　shifted　into　low　gear　to　wind　down　the　switchback　down　the　long　slope　toward　the　highway。　The　descent　took　almost　fifteen　minutes；　and　at　the　bottom；　skirting　the　base　of　the　mesa；　was　Teastah　Wash。　If　it　had　rained　harder　elsewhere　on　the　mesa；　he　might　not　be　able　to　drive　through　the　wash　until　the　runoff　water　cleared。　He　stopped　just　as　his　truck　tilted　down　the　steep　incline；　put　on　the　emergency　brake；　and　stepped　out。　The　headlights；　illuminating　the　bottom　of　the　wash；　showed　only　a　slight　trickle　of　water　across　the　sandy　expanse。　What　little　runoff　there　had　been　was　mostly　gone　now。
　It　was　when　he　was　turning　to　climb　back　into　the　pickup　that　he　saw　the　owl。　It　flew　almost　directly　at　the　truck；　startling　him；　flitted　through　the　headlight　beams；　and　disappeared　abruptly　in　the　dawn　half…light　up　the　wash。　He　sat　behind　the　wheel　a　moment；　feeling　shaken。　The　owl　had　acted　strangely；　he　thought；　and　it　was　known　that　ghosts　sometimes　took　on　that　form　when　they　moved　in　the　darkness。　It　looked　like　a　burrowing　owl；　Begay　thought；　but　maybe　it　was　a　ghost　returning　with　the　dawn　to　a　grave　or　a　death　hogan。
　He　was　still　thinking　of　the　owl　as　he　let　the　pickup　ease　slowly　down　the　steep　bank　and　then　raced　it　across　the　soft　bottom。　And　he　was　thinking　of　it　as　the　truck　climbed　out　of　the　arroyo；　its　motor　laboring　in　low　gear。　But　by　now　the　mood　of　the　morning　had　recaptured　him　and　he　thought　that　it　was　just　a　burrowing　owl；　going　home　from　the　night's　hunting　and　confused　by　his　headlights。　It　was　just　beyond　the　rim　of　the　shallow　canyon；　just　after　the　pickup　had　regained　level　ground　and　he　had　shifted　into　second　gear；　that　he　saw　that　he　was　wrong。
　The　body　lay　just　beside　the　track　and　his　headlights　first　reflected　from　the　soles　of　its　shoes。　Before　he　could　stop；　the　pickup　was　almost　beside　it。　Joseph　Begay　shifted　into　neutral　and　left　the　motor　running。　He　unbuttoned　his　shirt　and　extracted　a　small　leather　pouch　hung　from　his　neck　by　a　thong。　The　pouch　contained　a　small　bit　of　jet　flint　in　the　crude　shape　of　a　bear；　and　about　an　ounce　of　yellow　pollen。　Begay　put　his　thumb　in　the　pollen　and　rubbed　it　against　his　chest。　He　chanted：
　〃Everywhere　I　go；　myself
　May　I　have　luck；
　Everywhere　my　close　relatives　go
　May　they　have　their　good　luck。〃
　The　ghost　was　gone…at　least　for　the　moment。　He　had　seen　it　flying　up　Teastah　Wash。　He　got　out　of　the　truck　and　stood　beside　the　body。　It　was　a　young　man　dressed　in　jeans　and　a　red　shirt　and　with　town　shoes　on。　The　body　lay　on　its　back；　the　legs　slightly　parted；　right　arm　outflung　and　left　arm　across　the　chest　with　the　wrist　and　hand　extending；　oddly　rigid。　There　was　no　visible　blood　but　the　clothing　was　damp　from　the　rain。