Then Payacita spoke up to say, “What dream song shall I sing, Shamason? Shall I make something up?” She then hesitated for a moment.
“Or what, Payacita?” her mother asked.
“Should I sing of the blue butterfly dream?” Payacita’s voice rose as she stood up. Then she let go of her arms wrapped around her mother’s neck.
Silence filled the air. The only sounds that could be heard were those of the old horse huffing and puffing as he walked along and the clanking of the wagon.
Payacita, waiting patiently—which by the way wasn’t one of her better traits, threw her arms up in the air—stating aloud, “Well, well,” interrupting her mother’s train of thought.
Then with a small chuckle, Shamason looked back for a brief moment at her daughter and said, “Again, again, Payacita? Oh, you little clown! All right then. Go on and sing so that all of the canyons and the mountains may hear of your dreams. Only you have this same dream over and over again. Let your spirit speak!”
Filled with joy and excitement, Payacita turned once again to her attentive sisters and immediately began to sing.
She bellowed out the notes of a dream song that was really a dream, but a little made up too. They all listened.
At one point, one of the sisters interrupted, saying, “You and your long-winded imagination! You’re making up that dream! We’ve never heard this one before!”
The sisters again all giggled because no matter what, the child was entertaining, to say the least, and they all welcomed that. It was a long ride to the fort. Listening to Payacita was fun and helped the time pass rather swiftly. For this they were all glad.
Soon all the noise quieted down, the wagon stopped clanking, the sisters’ tired feet stopped walking, and the mother announced, “Straight ahead. I see the fort! Daughters, bring the sheep in closer to the wagon!”
Soon they entered through the tall wooded gates.
You could hear the soldiers saying as they passed through, “More Injuns bringing goods to trade.”
This did not alarm them. It didn’t even offend them. Tired of the white men, they simply went there to trade.
Chapter Two
The Fort
Upon arriving at Mr. Gibbs’ general store, Mother announced sternly, “Payacita, you can jump out now and stretch your legs. But don’t go and bother anyone if you can help it.”
Shamason knew that her daughter could get into some kind of trouble if she wasn’t reminded to pay close attention to where she went and what she would do.
Eager to view the fort’s stores and people, Payacita hopped out of the back of the wagon, and passing by her sister Ninleh, she intentionally flipped her long, braided hair into the air.
“Mother, Payacita just pulled my hair!” exclaimed Ninleh.
“Payacita, Payacita,” Shamson turned around, and hanging the reins up alongside of the buckboard, she began to speak. But Payacita had already disappeared down the sidewalk of the old dirt street. Shamson mumbled to herself, “I should just keep her with me while I trade. I’ll catch up to her later.”
Finally hopping down, she wiped her brow with an old handkerchief that she kept in her pocket. Then she dusted off her long broom shirt and shoes. The other daughters could also be seen doing the same thing. After all, being at the fort meant for all of them the pleasure of visiting with others who were arriving there to bring pleasure to all of them. They could hardly contain their excitement.
The girls were given the task of corralling the sheep down into the holding pens at the end of the fort. Ninleh was directed to count out loud to the livestock trader the number of sheep that would pass into the area and to ask for a fair price for them. Then the girls were asked to return to the wagon where their mother was waiting. While they were there, they would help her unload the rest of the wagon for Mr. Gibbs.
Meanwhile, Payacita was seen running through the fort by several individuals. She ran by the telegraph office, stopping briefly to stick her head into the window, letting out a loud whistle, scaring the telegraph worker to death. She skipped past the infirmary, blowing kisses to the patients that she saw sitting outside on its raised platform deck. Then she found herself stopping to look back toward the gate’s entrance. There she had seen a small puppy staked out near its opening and wondered, wondered who it belonged to and why it had been left alone. She decided to walk over there for a short visit.
Payacita was like a small whirlwind. She moved so quickly through the fort at times it seemed her small feet could hardly keep up with her. This was partly because she was so excited, thinking of the puppy she was about to visit, and partly because she was just a young child, full of energy, inquisitive about the adventurous world that surrounded her.
You see, these were new times in an old world. Before Fort Wingate became a central trading center on what’s known as the “Old Camino Real”, the native tribes were forced to trade among each other or with passing wagons that were new settlers who had chosen to go forth to conquer the Wild West. The “people of the Diné, Navajo,” were pleased to exchange their goods for other things that could make their lives easier. But being a noble culture of surviving nomadic often meant that the work was very hard. The sheep and goats that they raised were essential for their existence. Without them, they could lose the art of the great mysteries that inspired them to weave and the gift of being able to tell stories in the designs of the rugs and blankets.
These woven items were renowned for their beauty, created, in part, by the ancestors. As the seasons changed, travels to different watering holes would bring them closer to other clans. There was the clan of the “bear”, those who were of the “stars and wind”, and always the “sun and earth mother” clan. And never were the “medicine beings” forgotten. These were the beings that taught of spirit and of the medicines of “spirit beings.” “Spirit beings” live in each and every one of us. This is the magic of the “blue butterfly dreams,” at least to Payacita and the belief of her mother.
Many early mornings would arrive, and the young girl would crawl into her mother’s bed and lay next to her, telling her of the beautiful blue butterfly that would visit her in the night. But always Payacita was left questioning its flight. The reason she oftentimes would make up endings to the dreams was because, in the dreams, the butterfly never was seen landing. It simply flew around and around, circling Payacita as she walked, or played in what appeared to be an open area. Seeing this in her dream, she knew that it was somewhere close to home, not far from her or her family; and yet it was nowhere that she could yet recognize. This often would bring tears to her early morning awakenings. Which is why she would crawl into her mother’s place of dreams.
There her mother would again say the same old thing, “Wait, my child. I believe that someday the blue butterfly will show you many things. Don’t cry now. Maybe you’ll find answers in the next dream.”
Somehow Payacita always found comfort in this. Only her mother’s love made her feel a sense of being complete. The new world was challenging. Payacita knew in her heart that there was a place where life would end as it had begun; a place filled with hope. She continued to believe in herself and to believe that in all life around her, there is purpose and meaning.
Payacita stopped briefly to look inside the barber’s shop window. She found it silly that the soldiers were so shorthaired. As she turned to leave the barber’s front window, she noticed outside its front door opening on the boardwalk that there was a giant red-and-white like pole. She was tempted to approach it and take a swing around it. As she geared up her run toward the pole, a man just at that moment began to ascend up the stairway