Free Navajo Long Walk by Nancy M. Armstrong

Harris handed the reins to Kee saying, “Jeff, this is Kee, the only Navajo boy here who has learned more than a few words of English. He takes care of Smoke and runs my errands. You two should become friends.”
    â€œHello, Kee,” Jeff said. “I have seen Indian boys of many tribes on the streets of St. Louis. I have never had one for my friend.”
    Kee shrugged. “I have never seen white boy before. I go now to put Smoke in corral.” Kee mounted and rode swiftly away.
    Arriving at the stables early next morning he found that Smoke was gone. Captain Harris had waved to him from the parade grounds where he and other officers were checking the ration tags of Navajos already lined up to receive food. Kee thought, “Jeff must have Smoke. I hope he treats a horse better than he rides. He might ride too fast over ground pitted with prairie-dog holes. Smoke could step in one and break a leg.”
    While he stood worrying about Smoke and wondering what to do, he heard a snuffling at his back and felt a familiar nuzzling at his shoulder. He whirled to face Smoke. The horse was saddled but riderless.
    Jeff was nowhere to be seen. Picking up the reins, Kee started to open the corral gate. Smoke pushed his arm asif to stop him. Just then it occurred to Kee that Jeff might have been thrown. “The way he rides it could happen fast,” he said to himself, and thought how terrible Captain Harris would feel if his son was hurt.
    Smoke nudged him again. “All right, all right, beautiful one, we will go and find him.”
    Mounting quickly, Kee let Smoke have his head. The horse ran straight for the river. Kee would never have chosen that direction. He had been afraid of the water ever since that horrible day the Navajos were forced to cross the Rio Grande on the way to the fort.
    The Pecos was neither as deep nor as wide as the Rio Grande. In the deepest part the water came only to the horse’s belly. Yet Kee’s heart thumped wildly. He held his breath on the crossing and sighed with relief when the horse was on dry ground.
    After loping across the prairie a short distance, Kee saw a wash ahead. He felt sure he would find Jeff there. The wash was wider than Smoke could jump and was probably a deep one. No doubt Smoke had stopped at the edge so abruptly that Jeff was thrown over his head.
    The wash proved to be not only deep, but a jungle of sagebrush, cacti, mesquite, and yucca. Kee walked Smoke up and down along the edge of the wash trying to find hoofprints where Smoke had come to a halt with Jeff. No luck. Dismounting, Kee tried to descend the wash but could find no way down between the thick brush. Sharp yucca thorns grabbed at his calico shirt and pants. He called Jeff. In the silence that followed his calls, he could hear only his own breathing and Smoke’s snorting. Occasionally he could hear the horse’s hoofs strike a rock as Smoke ambled along the edge of the wash. Climbing back to the top, Kee thought, “If Jeff is under that mess of brush somewhere I will never find him. I had better go for help.”

    A short distance away Smoke was pawing at the edge of the wash. Kee ran to him. He called Jeff. A second later Smoke pricked up his ears. Kee knew the horse had heard something. He called again. A faint moan reached him.
    Kee struggled through the brush in the direction of the moan. Half-way down the wash he heard it again, above him. Looking back up along the tangled thicket, Kee finally saw Jeff. He was spread-eagled on a huge clump of yucca that was growing through a thick stand of sagebrush. Kee fought his way toward him. The white boy’s eyes were closed, his face scratched and bleeding. When Kee was as close as he could get to the heavy brush, he called to Jeff. The white boy opened his eyes; a faint half-smile crossed his face. “I’ve been praying someone would find me. I tried to pry myself loose until my back was torn to pieces.”
    Kee was