"Chavez?" Jane gently touches my shoulder, "Are you crying?"

I wipe a tear from my chin quickly. Am I crying? "I don't know."

"What's wrong?" She sits up behind me and I feel her hand move from my shoulder, traveling down my back.

"Nothing. It's all right. All right."

"Chavez, People might say I am not much more than a whore, but at least I'm a good one. And I know something's wrong. Will you feel better when you tell me?"

I lean forward and cover my face with my hands. "I don't know," I say again. Jane sighs. "Come to me," she says, "Lie by my side and relax. I can at least dry up these tears of yours."

So I lie on my back, next to her, and feel her hands caressing my face.

"There was blood everywhere," I say suddenly. Jane's hand ceases to move on my skin. "I could smell it. Blood. And smoke. Burnt flesh. Decay. It made me sick. I had only been gone for a couple of days. A week maybe. I didn't know how long they were dead. I just knew that I had left a world in perfect order. Or at least in the order I knew. And I came back to a battlefield. It had been my home. Now it was a slaughterhouse.

"We were just... Indians. We had nothing. Were worth nothing. Were living in a small village. Some adobe houses, some hogans on an empty spot of dead earth. Some sheep, some ponies. Home, sweet home, the government had set up for us a couple of years ago. The land didn't even give enough for us to live. So the government had set up somebody to supply us with food. They never gave much, nor good, but it was enough for us to last. Only that winter, they had not sent something. There was a lot of snow and so we figured they might not have come through. But one day, they finally came. No excuses were made, although many of our children, sick and old people had starved. They brought only meat. Beef. Not much. And most of it was spoilt. We asked, would they come again this winter? They said no. We said, we would not last the winter without more food. They said that was none of their business. Even though they were paid to bring us food. The priest came out to them and tried to talk them into some reason. Then one of them shot her and they left. There we were, alone, starving, with only some worm-eaten beef.

"What should we do? So we set out, five men, to the next white town. To beg for food. Beggars they had made us. But we had to go, for the sake of the children and the weak ones. The people in town had already been waiting. They said we were savages, Indian rebels, planning to steal their wives and children, killing them and taking their scalps. My people, the Diné - or 'Navajo' as they call us, see, we never took scalps, never in our history. But they shot everyone, my two brothers, my cousin, my uncle. I only got shot once, in the shoulder. They took me prisoner and told me they would hang me publicly. A warning example, for all the other rebels to see.

"I was thrown in jail for some days, with no food or medical attendance. The deputies had beaten me up, broken some of my bones, bruised some of my flesh. And I only got out because some women came and talked the sheriff into letting me go. You know, I was only 14 years old. Just a kid. So they let me go - how merciful they were. Sent me out into the barren land, alone, hurt, without food. But I decided to walk home, and walk home I did. But home to what?

"I came across the hilltop, to see smoke everywhere. The houses had been burning for some days already. Burnt down. I found everyone killed. None had survived. No one. They had come with guns. I found a few dead Army men. The Army had come, to settle the conflict. The Army always came to settle conflicts. We were nothing, worth nothing, just Indians. Were there conflicts were we the cause, and had to be silenced. We were wrong. No exceptions were made. Heathen savages we were, without knowledge and education, how could we possibly have been right?

"Not only they killed the men, they killed the women and the kids. Some of the women and girls I found naked, with their legs spread wide, dried blood between them. Some of those girls were not older than five years. One of them was my sister, and all of them I knew very well. I found my mother slaughtered. She had fought hard. An Army saber had cut through her whole body. She had been left to bleed to death. Near her I saw my other sisters. Lying on the ground, like filth. They had not been cut or shot. They were only a half and two years old. So the soldiers had stomped onto their heads, crushed their little skulls. I saw them, and fell to my knees. I sat there and looked at them. I could not believe what I saw, and even though it tore my heart into pieces, I wasn't able to look away. I couldn't even cry. I forgot everything. I just sat there. For how many hours I don't remember. It was getting dark, and so I got down on the ground. On the ground that had consumed the blood of all my family. I touched the dust, the ashes and the stones. Then I fell asleep.

"When I awoke the next morning, I could not feel myself anymore. Pain had consumed me. Only a small portion of my heart was still alive. I got up. Turned around. And decided to leave. I searched the burnt house and took with me what was of use. They had even killed our dogs. Our ponies were gone, their tracks almost unrecognizable on the ground. I didn't mean to look for them. I simply walked away. Leaving behind the dead bodies of my family, and friends, and those few ones of the Army men. I wasn't sure where I was going. Until I realized I was walking towards the city of the white men, from where I knew the wagons with the food had come. What would I do there? Revenge was something that was strange to an indigenous mind. Was I still looking for it? What should one person, one child do against all those white men? But I decided, even though I didn't know yet what I would do in the town once I got there, that I would still go there. I would look the man into the eye, whose name I had seen on the wagons, who had been too cheap to send some food to the Indians."

I stop, and breathe in. It feels as if it is the first breath I draw within hours. Then I turn my head, to look at Jane. A single tear is searching its way down her cheek. She is silent. All she does is reach out. She touches my shoulder, grabs hold of me and pulls me towards her. Jane embraces me. Buries her hands in my hair, and kisses my forehead.

"I got to go, Jane."

She nods. "Okay." Jane smiles at me, her sweetest smile. "Tell Billy Jane said hi, will you?"

"Of course." I am already halfway out of the door, when-

"Chavez!"

"Yeah?"

"I feel privileged to have been told all that."

Now it is upon me to smile. "No, Jane. I feel privileged to have been allowed to tell all that to you."