CHAPTER 23
"Shear her?" whoops a Navajo warrior with a pudgy belly and crazy eyes. "Why not scalp them both?" He lifts a brown whiskey bottle. Anoki watches his pronounced Adam's apple rise and fall beneath a less-pronounced jaw. When he lowers the bottle, the devil's water erases any sign of humanity. An unquenchable rage accentuates his anger by flexing what little muscle he has.
"She is too pretty to scalp. I will be the one to shear her!" A more muscular Navajo warrior grins wickedly. He tilts his bowl-cut head and lasciviously focuses on Anoki's voluptuous chest.
"We will not get as good a price from the Mexicans if she is sheared." He looks down at his knife and grunts. His groan is followed by a drunken hiccup. "Okay, then, we're going to burn this adobe hut down and trade your whole family for more whiskey. What do you think of that, Hopi Princess?"
"WHY?!" Anoki shrieks. She does the impossible and tries to reason with madness. Her black silk hair is braided like rope and rolled into tight wide buns on each side of her head. Her white deerskin moccasins mark her as pure. Her beaded attire glistens, making her look like a jewel. Everything about her entices her enemy. Her beauty. Her dress. Her belongings. Her rank. Her bloodline. All of it.
Tonight was supposed to be a special night. Anoki was dressed for the Hopi summer solstice dance. As princess, she was the main attraction.
An older man, her father, Kikmongwi, king chief, lies at her feet. He's been badly beaten by the drunken Navajo, who toy with their victims like cats playing with frail mice. Anoki's courage and puny tomahawk are the only things that stand between the drunken Navajo raiders and her father's scalp.
"I told you it would be best to attack while they dance to Wuko'uyis."
"Move aside, girl!"
"I will not!" she shouts.
"We four Navajo warriors have more scalps on our belts than fingers and toes in this room. Do you really think you can stop us from adding the high king's scalp to our belt?"
"Look at her braids. She is just a single lonely girl with no husband to defend her. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Anoki winds up her tomahawk and readies for a swing as they begin to swarm her. "GET BACK! Leave us be. Return my sister and my mother, or I will hurt you!"
The more aggressive Navajo points at himself and counts aloud. "I see one, two, three, four of us. And only two of you."
"My father is not responsible for sour meats or bad seeds."
"YOUR PEOPLE ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR EVERYTHING!" the crazy-eyed Navajo shouts, thrusting his spear into her father's leg.
Kikmongwi cries out, which causes the Navajo to cackle like a pack of coyotes.
"SAVAGES!" Anoki curses them. But they wear her insult like a badge of honor, and they feed on whiskey and misery.
Anoki puts up a good fight. But inside she is as fragile as glass, and her cracks show when her father screams. She can bear anything but the pain-filled cries of her father. Her heart sinks. She does not show her attackers. Instead, she clenches her teeth, flexes her jaw, raises her weapon, and attacks.
She leaps forward and slams the blade down on the Navajo's foot. He drops his spear and screams as he hops up and down.
"Leave us alone!" Anoki blasts, wishing she could have cracked his skull.
The Navajo laugh when the injured Indian hops up and down on one foot. He abruptly stops, turns, and slaps Anoki across the face.
She falls to the ground as though she were made of leaves instead of flesh and bone. She presses her hand to her burning cheek and reaches for her father. Instead of relenting, she grabs the tomahawk, though she feels her security slip away as the Navajo pack circle around her like wolves. She can feel her cheek swell. She can taste blood.
Now is a good time to be diplomatic, she thinks. "Please don't hurt my father. Toss him the band of mercy hanging from your wrist," she begs.
Crazy Eyes lifts the red-and-yellow band up and howls.
"We have paid a high price for your trade!"
"You haven't even begun to pay, Hopi Princess!" Crazy Eyes barks, untying a knot that holds his animal-skin pants up.
Anoki gasps at the progressing horror. She feels her spirit sink to dark, unimaginable depths as she realizes the price she's about to pay for defending her father. Her head swirls. With the last bit of energy she can muster, she pushes her legs together and wraps her hands around her knees. Rocking back and forth, she prays that she has the strength to fight these vile men until life leaves her tiny little frame.
Crazy Eyes unsheathes his rust-stained scalping knife. He tears at Anoki's clothes.
"No!" she shouts, resisting his assault.
Her husky assailant responds by punching her in the face.
Her whole body convulses from the blow. She sees white flashes that nearly blind her, but she knows if she keeps up the fight, the Navajo will grow tired and stab her to death, which in her mind is better than being defiled next to her tormented father. "Oh, that this was any other day. Think of happy thoughts, Father. Do not let these be the last images you see of your precious daughter, your sweet Anoki." Darkness closes in around her.
Through hazy vision, she sees the angry Crazy Eyes raise his knife. Her stomach muscles tighten. She feels an agonizing pain and closes her eyes.
Good! she thinks. Death is better! She focuses on the monster's twisted face. The evil in his wide, cruel eyes maximizes her fear and makes her hope that his knife will penetrate fast and free her spirit quickly. But then his eyes suddenly seem to soften.
Among the stench of liquor, the filthy Navajo, the heat of the swelling flames, the laughing demons, her wounded father, and her imminent murder, the impossible happens. An arrow whistles past her head and punctures her attacker's beefy chest. If Anoki had gold, its value would be nothing compared to the confused expression on Crazy Eyes's face. Senseless rage turns to agony. She feels the tight tension in her face fade into a modest, righteous smile.
The Navajo drops his knife and grips the arrow. He struggles for breath, which causes blood to spurt out of the wound like a bubbling geyser.
Another arrow strikes her assailant through his arm, pinning the appendage to his chest. The knife he intended to use cannot be used to cut her now. Now it's her turn to laugh. The villain's evil face turns from agony to regret.
Anoki flashes through all the men in her tribe who could help, and she can't think of one. What Hopi would help me when his own family is at risk? That isn't our nature. We protect ourselves first when danger is all around.
Crazy Eyes tries to speak, but his strength fails him. Instead, he falls dead to the agonizing melody of his wicked friend's laughter. It is not a sound he likes, and his death mask indicates it.
Kiowa's bow creaks. The string twangs, and his arrow flashes through the air. His aim is deadly. Not that he would need to be accurate at such close proximity. He strikes another evil man through the flexing, laughing neck.
Choking cries surprise the other Navajo, and the last two men scramble.
Kiowa and Paw smash through the pueblo's clay wall. Anoki sees a flash of feathers attached to a bonnet. Black war paint covers their foreheads and streaks down the sides of their faces. It continues around their jawlines and ends in yellow circles at their chins.
There, see! That is what a good Indian should do. Run! Anoki thinks as she presses her hand to her head to stabilize the rocking motion.
Before the Navajo can escape, Two Moons and Makes Trouble seize their victims from behind.
A word: Is it right to enter a fight that isn't your own? Do the weak deserve a defense? What would you have done if you were the Kiowa? I'd like to think I would get in the fight, but if I had a family to lose, I might reconsider. I'd like to know what you think, so leave your comments below.
I'm sure you've read this somewhere before, but I'm going to say it again... this book is available on Amazon. You can find it if you search for "Harvest Moon" by Zachary H. Lovelady. I've worked pretty hard on this book and I'm working even harder to bring the story to life on Instagram. You can see my art on harvestmoonofficial. I built this for you, and I hope you like this masterpiece. Ah-hoe, the journey begins.