CHAPTER TWO           Story Table of Contents          Finding Martin Game

Approximately half a century earlier and dozens of yards northwards, Raina Nighteagle stepped carefully over the dusty rocks so as not to scuff her new black patent leather shoes.  The sun had just begun to rise in the deep purplish sky, and the clouds were thin and gray.  Shivering in the damp November chill, she touched her fingertips to the large pile of reddish rocks that stood before her.

Her grandmother had warned her not to be late for her lesson today.  Today's date and the first hour of dawn were important, her grandmother had told her, saying that she could feel the time calling to her from inside her bones.  Raina had learned to trust her grandmother's intuition, but she was fairly sure that she had a few more minutes to get to the mesa before the first uncertain rays of sunlight brightened into morning.

And although she was only eight years old and rather short for her age, Raina was stubbornly aware of the calling inside of her own bones.  "This place is special," she told herself.  It seemed right and fitting that she should pay her respects to the mountain by taking a small detour to visit this pile of rocks.  She knew that the sunrise would not begrudge her the small sliver of time it took to do so.

Raina recalled the first day that she had seen the rock pile.

It happened last summer, when she was out walking with her brother Little Bear.  A year and a half younger than Raina, Little Bear couldn't resist wandering off even though Raina was expected to keep track of his whereabouts at every moment.  Once, after a long, futile search for the Bear that made her worry whether he had fallen into the ravine, she finally found him here.  He was hard at work, rearranging the rocks as if he were trying to make a tunnel through the middle of the pile.  Unsuccessfully, of course, but the sliding of the rocks and crying out "Oh, no!" seemed to be the highlight of his game rather than a source of frustration.

Raina decided that the place was magical, and it soon became one of her favorite spots.

"I'm going to live here someday," Raina told her brother. "When I grow up and dance in the movies like Ginger Rogers, I'll be rich and famous and I'll hire workers to build me a house on this very spot.  We'll put the courtyard here," she declared, pointing to the mossy area right next to the rock pile.

"Can I help build it?"  Little Bear asked.  "We could have tunnels and secret passageways and lots of tricky doors.  And a drawbridge and a moat, like a castle."

"We'll see,"  Raina said in a very grown-up voice.  She sounded so much like her father when she said this that it made her start to giggle, which of course ruined the entire effect.

Smiling at her memory, Raina hurried on her way up to the mesa.  Her grandmother was waiting patiently for her there, sitting on a blanket.  She wore her long white hair in a braid down the center of her back.  Wire-rim glasses with thick lenses sat in front of clouded gray eyes.  Her clothing was mostly buckskin and denim, covered by a heavy fringed shawl.

Grandmother generally preferred that Raina should wear more traditional clothing when she came to her lessons, but because today was a weekday she understood that Raina wouldn't have time to change her clothes before she went to school.  So today Raina was garbed as any other modern school girl would be in the late 1940's or early 1950's, wearing a soft sweater and a below-the-knee skirt, ankle socks and buckled shoes, with her dark hair held away from her face by two plastic barrettes. 

Many of the children who lived nearby went to the mission school or the Tiwa school on the reservation, but Raina's father was a forward-thinking man who preferred to have his children attend the ranch school near Los Alamos.  This was where the children of the government workers studied, and Raina's father felt that this was an educational opportunity that his children shouldn't miss.

And so, Little Bear always became "Jeremia" when he went to school, but at home he was still their Little Bear.  Most of the time, anyway.

Grandmother had insisted that the children come to her for language lessons and instruction in the old crafts and traditions.  It was their birthright, she insisted.  Especially the girl, she said.

"She has your eyes,"  her father had nodded.  But this, of course, made no sense at all to Raina since without her glasses her grandmother was almost completely blind, whereas Raina could see perfectly well without any glasses at all.

Somehow, despite her poor eyesight, her grandmother never missed one of Raina's mistakes.  And so, Raina was a little nervous as her grandmother checked her handiwork.  Had she woven and knotted the ropes correctly?  Would her grandmother be pleased, or would she tell her to start again from the beginning?

This was the first time that Raina was being guided through a real making of something useful, not just a practice piece to help her to learn basic skills.  The item that she was making was needed, and therefore it must be done correctly.  And now was the announced date and time when her grandmother had promised to explain to her the secret meaning and purpose of the five strands of rope that lay across her lap.

Raina's grandmother suddenly leaned forward as if startled by the approach of a stranger.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"No one is here, Grandmother,"  Raina assured her.  

"It's him,"  Grandmother thought to herself.  "Good, I was afraid that I'd been mistaken about the time.  But where is he?  And am I sensing more than one?   No matter.  Everything will work itself out."

"No," her grandmother replied, settling herself back more comfortably.  "I heard no sound."

Raina was reluctant to contradict her grandmother since she didn't want to receive another lecture on the importance of respecting one's elders.

Examining her granddaughter's work, the woman nodded with satisfaction. "You have made a good beginning," she said.  "To make a good beginning you must start your work in a high place, in the light of the rising sun.  Remember this."

"Yes, I remember, Grandmother," the girl said, smiling fondly at the older woman. "And I also remember that you promised to tell me a secret today, the secret about what it is that you are teaching me to make.  Will you tell me now?"

"For secrets we must use the old tongue," the grandmother told her.  "I will speak slowly for you."

Raina thought that she was getting rather good at speaking Tiwa since she had started practicing with Jeremia while their father drove them to and from school.  Nevertheless, she appreciated her grandmother's careful words since she didn't want to miss anything. 

Her grandmother explained, "You are making a journey belt.  This is a very important thing, for without such a belt a shaman may lose himself.  The belt can bring him home if it is made strong enough."

Raina was full of questions.  "Who is the shaman?  Is he coming soon?   Am I making the knots strong enough?"

"The shaman is who he needs to be, and he will come when he is called.  You are the one who must make the belt and keep it in a secret place for him.  But the knots that you make are only a beginning, a weaving of rope upon rope.  To make the belt strong, the one who wears the belt must seek the weaving of spirits.   Five times he must seek, one for each cord of rope."

Raina sat silently for a while, thinking.  Then she spoke again, this time in English.

"Five cords of rope, like five fingers on my hand," Raina mused.

"The fingers of a hand must work together for the hand to be strong," her grandmother nodded approvingly.  "Four fingers bring strength from afar, like the four winds from the north, south, east, and west.  But the thumb, like the center of the world, must wait.  When the rest of the hand is ready, the thumb can complete the grip.  Morning Rain, child of my child, you have learned the ways of our people well."

"At school they call me Raina."

"Always you are who you need to be.  Your true name waits for you here,"  her grandmother said, touching her hand to the little girl's chest above her heart.  "At school you work hard, your father says, you are clever and you make good grades.  Every one is an 'A'.   Your father says that tonight we go to the movies to celebrate."

"Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers!"  Raina exclaimed.  She leapt to her feet and began to dance about.

Watching her granddaughter dance, the old woman's eyes moistened with pride.   Raina's movements were so full of life, so intense in their blending of emotion, style, and power.   The dance came to an end with a dramatic flourish and several bows all around to the imaginary audience surrounding her.  Her grandmother rose to her feet and applauded enthusiastically.

"A regular Ginger Rogers," her grandmother declared, reaching her arms out to Raina.

Raina ran to her grandmother and hugged her tightly, wishing that this embrace could last forever.  After all, this was a moment of connection that by all rights should be able to transcend the fabric of time itself.

And in a way, it did.

Chapter Three          Story Table of Contents          Finding Martin Game