Uncertain Justice

Miles watched as the lonely man stumble into a marriage that had no chance of succeeding and watched as the man immersed himself in soldiering. The man's few acquaintances dropped away as he traveled to new places. He slipped into early middle age.

Miles saw the trial, predetermined for a bleak conclusion, and saw a momentary bright spark of purpose as the morose man struggled and broke away, refusing to give in to the obscenity. The images drifted away, their power to hurt lessening as they went.

He stood quietly watching the swiftly flowing current. Looking into the depths, he felt the unbroken darkness beckoning; it was comforting and alluring in its serenity. There was peace in the abyss. There was no turmoil there, but with nothing to interrupt the blandness, neither was there anything to achieve.

Turning to look back up at the cave's entrance, he studied the luminous green cataract. Rushing water lashed out where granite outcrops impeded its progress and surged against boulders too massive to wash away and too tough for even centuries of friction to grind into smaller rocks and pebbles. White water foamed over barely hidden rocks thrusting into the current. Sunshine lit everything, dimming with the passing of clouds only to return more brilliantly than before. A bright, multicolored flash caught his eye at the very top as a big rainbow trout successfully escaped the current's hold and broke free to make his way back upstream.

After a long moment, he backed away from the spray-dampened edge. Carefully, but almost casually, he made his way along the slick precipice up the trail to where the elders waited for him in silence. Their hands fluttered over him, patting him reassuringly and congratulating him on his choice as they escorted him into to the city. He protested quietly but with strength. There had been no choosing ... there had been no need for one. They looked in his eyes and saw that it was true. The spirit in this man was stronger than they had known.

The elders spoke with him, explaining how mankind entered and left the world through the Sipapu. They gestured to the path they walked upon and to the river running alongside. Though the pathway and the river traveled in different directions at times, they were parts of one unity.

The spiral of life included all things. He listened and was comforted. Many of the People met the group as they returned to the big kiva, their smiles wide and congratulatory. He luxuriated in the sense of belonging that came to him. He sat with the People and became one of them.

He watched the children play in the huge domed hollow in the cliff. They were sometimes perilously near the drop-off. Their parents laughed at his distress--he could barely sit still--when the children played their games racing along the very edge. The adults were proud of their youth's physical mastery of their environment. The skills learned scampering along the high ledges contributed to their chances of surviving as they grew to adulthood. Still, Miles saw some of them scold offspring who went too far, edging into recklessness.

He watched the elders as they met to judge a young farmer's request to add to the holding he already farmed. They turned to other things, wondering at the meaning behind the stars in the night sky. The wise folk of the village sat and talked of many things in the lengthening shadows. The setting sun reflected off the smooth walls of the city, creating a golden afterglow as the People gathered about their evening dinner fires. He watched the big albino hawk as it carved huge circles in the sky above. He was the hawk as it soared high, watching the pitiful land-bound creatures below.

§

When Miles woke, it was late afternoon and past time to head for home. He had no desire to attempt to cross the bridge again in the dark--not when he knew what lay a few hundred yards downstream. He shivered with a sudden chill that could not have been caused by the warm southern wind that blew in his face.

He stretched stiff muscles and buckled on the fanny pack and pistol belt. He stepped off briskly, making short work of the trip along the opening of the cavern and the path beyond. His feet automatically found the best purchase on the rock and the better path among several options.

He was home well before dark, ravenously hungry and fatigued far beyond the effort he'd expended during the day. He fell asleep even as the question of why formed in his mind. He dreamed again that night, his head filling with a vastness and glory that had been.

§

Every clan in the village honored him. The bear clan claimed him as one of their own from the start. They'd watched him as he fought and mortally wounded the big grizzly and given their approval as he put the animal out of its misery with his pistol. Dreaming the bear would have provided a feast the entire city could have enjoyed, Miles was full of pride at his contribution. Membership in the Bear Clan elevated Miles to a position of respect throughout the city.

Miles expressed his awe at the construction of the dams that allowed the People to farm the fields across the river from the city. When he spoke of the few bits of knowledge gleaned from television documentaries about Hoover Dam, the Water Clan invited him into their midst.

He walked with the farmers in the cornfields across the river from the city--the huge overhanging ridge of the mountain had not yet fallen in the massive landslide--impressed at the richness of the soil and size of the harvest. He spoke of rotating the crops, something he remembered from a great uncle who farmed the bottomland in a far Texas county. The Corn Clan boasted Miles was surely a wise man in his own land and welcomed him to their kiva whenever he could come.

When they heard how far he had hiked in his adventure, the Wolf Clan proclaimed him one of those honored few who were responsible for scouting the trails ahead when the People traveled. The men of the Wolf Clan laughed at Miles in the beginning, politely making fun of his ankle-high hiking boots.

They scolded him, saying this was no way for a hunter to prowl the woods. Tentatively, he discarded the hard-soled boots in favor of flexible deerskin. In time, he grew used to the unconfining footwear. With constant exercise, his legs strengthened and he was able to run the ridges and trails with the best of the Wolf Clan, though his greater weight and size kept him from winning any of the sprints the Wolf Clan enjoyed.

In short races, his reflexes and quickness put him two paces ahead of the others after three steps. By the sixth footfall, though, he was always behind. On long distance runs though, his longer legs made him one of the front-runners and the folk cheered the time he beat the city's champion.

The Bear and Wolf Clans were charged with the safety of the city and he learned many things from his brothers in those Clans. They taught him much about stalking, how to keep hidden until within short reach of deer and other game. The time came when he could slip through a thicket, camouflaged with a deerskin draped over his shoulders, without spooking a herd of elk feeding there. With his developing powers of observation, he found it easy to absorb the skill of reading the slightest sign of animal or human presence.

The day Miles tracked his teacher over stretches of bare rock, running rivers and impossible terrain to surprise him as he dozed in his blankets beside a campfire, Miles was accepted as an honored warrior and hunter. They congratulated him for his skill with the pistol and crossbow, deciding they made up for his inability to use a bow and arrow or throwing stick.

They pitted him against young boys and women who could shoot rings around Miles with the bow. Waiting to see what Miles would do, they squatted and nudged each other with knowing glances. When Miles laughed at his own lack of skill, the whole city laughed with him. The walls of the huge cavern echoed with great booming laughter that ended only for evening prayers to honor the sun that had warmed them that day.

§

There came a time when the elders selected him to accompany a party of wolf brothers in a scouting expedition to the south west toward the lower passes. A trader from another city had reported an armed group somewhere in that direction.

The warriors of the Bear clan found the intruders and watched them from hidden places for several days. They placed symbols of the People where the strangers could not help but see. These proclaimed the land as belonging to the People and warned the foreigners to leave.

But they would not leave the land in peace and the People were forced to take action. One night, they crept into the enemy camp past a sleepy--and soon dead--guard and cut the throats of everyone they found except one. When he was awakened in the early dawn, the youngster ... not long past the ceremony of manhood ... was defiant at first but became despondent as he stared at the gaping wounds in his companion's throats.

He was sent home to his tribe with the message that all invaders would be similarly treated. They had been courteously warned not to come to the valley of the People but the trespassers had disregarded the message. The bodies were left where they lay for the vultures and coyotes as a further warning for others.

The wanderers sent a strong force to retaliate and the two Indian nations fought many times over the summer. Small and large groups of warriors hunted their foes in the wilderness and set up ambushes to trap the fighting men on the other side. The People, familiar with their land, had the advantage in this and found many places to surprise the invaders. They drove the herds of deer and elk far from their normal grazing sites so the others would have to range far in order to hunt.

Little by little, the People wore down the enemy, killing their enemy's warriors a few at a time until the intruders became desperate.

Finding a little-used trail over the sacred mountain, the one Miles called the valley's eastern edge, they slipped around the screen of Wolf Clan scouts and came near the valley of the city. The last encounter in the war was an open battle on the prairie to the west of the city.

It was a wild, tumultuous melee with few organized lines of resistance. Warriors fought until they could fight no more and withdrew to rest and prepare for more fighting. It went on for three days until the invaders grew too few and abandoned the field. The old stories of the People told of such battles in times past but none remembered even their great-grandfathers having actually been in one.

Miles stood with the warriors from the Bear Clan, reinforced by brothers of the Wolf Clan and, indeed, all the other clans who sent every male of fighting age into the conflict to support the full-time fighting men.

The women and children of the People gathered in the meadow north of the stone house, ready to retreat over the difficult trail up the canyon if the battle should be lost. The aged, and the sick and already wounded men would have stayed at the entrance, fighting to give their families a chance to escape had the enemy broken through.

In the fighting, Miles' crossbow bolts had found their marks in four of the wild ones, they who would bring down the city of the People. Three were dead, but one stumbled away with blood pouring from his lips, a bolt through the right side of his chest. The Wolf Clan brothers who nipped at the heels of the retreating invaders never found him and it was assumed the wounded warrior had crawled into a nook somewhere to die.

In the wild hand-to-hand combat when the intruders found a weakly defended place beside the river, Miles threw himself into the widening gap, holding enemy warriors at bay while Bear Clan brothers regrouped behind him. Standing head and shoulders above the tallest of the enemies, the mad giant wielding the long spear and heavy bladed knife forced the enemy braves to withdraw. When the line was restored, there were five more warriors of the intruders lying dead at Miles' feet and as many more nursed deep wounds when they pulled back.

In the somber ceremonies that marked the passing of the People's fallen warriors, Miles stood at the far right in the front rank of the fighting clans. The position of honor had been unanimously voted him by all of the clan brothers.

No longer separate from the city's own fighting men, the dead warriors of the invading nation were given homage equal to the clan brothers who had died. All were then eased into the dark current from Rock of Decision deep in the cave they called Sipapu.

§

In time, Miles no longer needed to travel to the city to dream and be with the People. They came many times to visit him at the little stone house in the cavern to wonder at the devices and tools he and Zeb had brought with them. The heavy wooden door mystified them. They could not understand why a sane person would want to shut themselves away from the land and from others with such a device. The People spent many hours around his solitary campfires when he ventured across the stream, glad that he saw them now.

When the elders heard how old he was--most of the city died long before their fortieth birthday and only a lucky and honored few saw their fiftieth--the elders decided Miles was one of their own and included him in their deliberations. Sometimes he came to the kiva in the city; often they made the trip to his cavern to speak of many things.

Miles spoke of the trouble that brought him to the valley, saying he was not a truly wise man. He told them he was hunted by others of his 'city'. The elders could not understand the concept of a nation that covered thousands of miles from coast to coast. He told them how a chance meeting with a young woman had brought him to the attention of the authorities.

The People did not understand how those officials could not be the assembled elders of the clans, chosen for their wisdom. The People were not fools--they knew their elders were not always wise ... they had no word for it, but Miles recognized politics as it was practiced in the city. Life was too hard, though, for the city to spare attention to a male who wished only to tell others what they must do. Those who sought unearned power soon became hungry as others refused to share the products of their hunting or farming with him.

The Kachina dancers showed the People how Miles watched the girl at the party and later tried to comfort her in her pain. They peered over his shoulder and murmured in disbelief as the false elder named Brady sought to imprison Miles with untrue words.

How, the People asked, could the citizens of the big city allow the Brady person to do these things? They showed their approval with strong words as Miles gained strength to deny the prosecutor his victory. They congratulated Miles on his decision to join the People in the valley far from the twisted ones.

In the privacy of the Great Kiva, where the men spoke of their hidden problems--the ones they did not show the women--Miles admitted his cowardice in failing to stay and face the false prosecution. He told them of his sadness at not being a true man and fighting Brady in the court of laws. They scoffed at him, saying no man could submit to unjust accusations. He tried to show them the difference between justice and law but they would not hear him. If the laws are not just, they asked, how could a man honor those who sat in judgment.

The eldest of the tribe showed him how those who transgressed against the city would be brought before the assembled People. If the accused man's words were not true, he was banished forever. Some chose the end of leaping from the decision rock to regain their honor.

Miles told the elder he thought he was a coward among great warriors ... that he had been afraid in the fighting. The elder scoffed, saying all men who knew battle feared greatly. Their bravery was that they fought anyway ... they fought for the city and their loved ones.

Miles showed him how he decided at an early age the use of his greater strength and coordination in contests with other children was wrong, no matter what the provocation. Children, the elder scoffed, had to test their strength with others. How else could they become men? Strong men, explained the elder, used their might for the city. They were obligated to, since others did not have that great strength. Miles remained unconvinced.

The elder became impatient with Miles. He named Miles the strong one, the soldier. He scolded Miles, warning Miles he must hear and obey his heart. Be proud of your strength, the elder counseled, and lend your strength to those who did not have it. Miles listened and meditated in the ancient way, fasting many days on the highest ridges and in time became whole.

The council of elders wondered that it had taken so long for him to come to a peace inside himself.

CHAPTER NINE

"A spokesperson for the Department of Justice said today they are scaling back the manhunt for Miles Underwood, the suspected rapist and killer of a young woman in San Antonio, Texas. At the same time the United States Marshal Service has announced a one million dollar reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the fugitive who fled Texas rather than face prosecution for his alleged crimes. Underwood escaped from a posse composed of state police and local sheriff deputies early this spring and has not been seen since. Despite the lack of any contact with Underwood, Department of Justice officials remain confidant they will find him." The camera switched from a head-on view of the anchorman to a previously taped interview segment.

"We just can't do it in the winter," remarked the trim, confidant spokesman. "The snow can get twenty feet deep up there in the dead of winter and we don't want to get any of our guys killed," he explained. He turned his head slightly to look directly into the lens. "But we came here to find Mister Underwood and we'll only leave when we get him."

World Information News Network

"National News Tonight"

Oct 19

§

There was a crust of ice in shallow pools near the river three mornings in a row before the weather broke and Indian summer returned to the valley. The ice was gone from the river, but a white dusting remained on the mountain peaks.

Miles was forced into a decision to leave the valley, at least temporarily. He was happier here than he could recall ever having been before in his life and the going wouldn't be easy. But he had to get out and find some source of supplies to carry him through the winter, though. He wasn't equipped to survive months of poor hunting and no wild vegetables.

The backpack was ready. It had been ready for a week now while he delayed as long as possible. He'd rationalized the postponement with a suggestion that he needed to finish off the last of the smoked and jerked venison from the summer ... he didn't want to waste it ... but that wasn't the real reason. The truth was he hated to even think about what waited for him outside. That world hadn't been very friendly the last few months he'd spent in it.

Finally, there were no more reasons--no more excuses--to delay any longer. The backpack waited near the front door, filled with small but surprisingly heavy sacks of gold and quartz nuggets, while he roamed the stone house trying to decide what else to take with him.

He'd found Zeb's stash entirely by accident. A canny old man Zeb had been--hiding all that gold in a wooden box buried in the corner under the table. Miles would probably never have found it if he hadn't moved the table out into the middle of the room to repair the split in the corner.