Free The Blue Between the Clouds by Stephen Wunderli Page B

remember much about it. But I do remember that the medicine man insisted on burying the body where Pa found him. And I remember those eagle feathers.
    I had forgotten all about that Indian until that day in the hogan. Now, the medicine man sang softly while the sand slipped through his fingers and told the history of his people.
    The medicine man looked up and slowly nodded. It was like he knew why we were there. We turned and went outside and sat down.
    â€œThe sand drawing is sacred,” Two Moons said. “We will wait here.”
    Me and Two Moons sat in the shade and watched an eagle glidin’ off in the distance. He moved back and forth across a butte. We could even see his shadow.
    â€œMust be somethin’ he wants pretty bad,” I said. “The way he keeps circlin’ like that.”
    â€œNo,” said Two Moons. “The wind runs up the side of the butte there. He likes floatin’ in the currents the way we like driftin’ along in the San Juan River.”
    That got me thinkin’ about a time when me and Two Moons decided to float the San Juan in the spring. You know, durin’ runoff. We had this little boat that was just big enough for one man, or two boys. We could see there wasn’t gonna be no easy way to get in ’cause the waves were so big. They tumbled over each other like stampedin’ cattle.
    â€œLet’s get a run at her,” I said to Two Moons.
    Of course he agreed. Each of us took ahold of a gunnel, you know, where the oar goes, then started to run. We leaped into the river at a full gallop and tried to roll into the boat in midair. I suppose we really thought we could do it. Until we hit the water. The waves attacked us, threw us about like we didn’t belong there. By the time we agreed with them, it was too late. The river became a giant monster. It pounded and threw us, held us underwater until we thought we were gonna burst. I thought we were done for. But somehow, we ended up on a sandy bank a few miles downstream. We pulled ourselves to where it was dry and laid there the rest of the afternoon. That night we told Pa about our adventure.
    â€œWhat did you do a stupid thing like that for?” he said. “You both could’ve been killed. Then what would I do? Where would I get another son?”
    The last thing I wanted to be was stupid. I thought about that while we waited for the medicine man. I thought about the plane and flyin’. Were we doing somethin’ stupid again?
    â€œWe didn’t always just drift along the San Juan,” I said to Two Moons.
    He smiled. Just then the medicine man came out. He stood in front of Two Moons. They stared at each other for a long time before Two Moons spoke. I only understood the greeting because they spoke in Navajo. Two Moons used his arms like he was tellin’ a long story. The medicine man listened. Two Moons motioned toward the eagle, and I knew he was talkin’ about the plane. Then the medicine man turned and walked back into the hogan.
    â€œWhat did he say?” I asked.
    â€œHe said it is noble to want to be like the eagle, but he cannot bless the plane with a good spirit until he gives you an Indian name the spirits of the sky will honor.”
    â€œThat’s it?”
    â€œAbout you, yes. He also said that your father is a great spirit, and that he would not honor this request if it wasn’t for him.”
    That made me think Pa was some kind of white Indian chief or somethin’.
    â€œI’ll tell Pa that,” I said.
    The medicine man led us to the sweat house. We took off our clothes while he built a fire and brought us fry bread. Then he left us there.
    â€œHow long do we stay here?” I asked.
    â€œUntil you feel you are ready for the honor of a new name.”
    â€œIt’s awful hot,” I said. “I think I could feel ready pretty soon.”
    Two Moons paid no attention to me. He poured a bucket of water over the hot