The Old Old Story

 

   “Beth, sweetie, I’m OK,” said Julia. “I really don’t want to move. I just want to rest here. I’ve been bruised up before and I’ve always recovered just fine on my own.” 

************

   Aunt Julia lay with her eyes closed as Beth sat beside her on the bed, still in her flannel pajamas. Jessie brought them mugs of coffee. Beth took hers, but Julia said to just set it on the table beside the bed. She was thinking about a story she told Beth. Jessie left them there, going back to the kitchen thinking of breakfast.
   “Honey, while we are resting here let me tell you an old story of long ago when I was a girl.”
   “I would love to hear it,” said Beth.
   “Okay, then. Once upon a time, in the early 1950s I was living with my father down in the village. My mother had passed on to the other world a few years before. We never knew that she was very ill until she lay down in her bed and could not rise again. She had kept her pain and weakness a secret as long as she could. She did not want to have doctor care in the city away from home. Well, Beth, she died and left me to keep house for my father. We did ok, though he was never a happy man again. He was sober and kind, but distant.”
   “But, when I was about 14 years old, I began to be a woman and I was very beautiful, everyone said so.”
   “At that time father kept a few sheep outside the village. Every day he would ask me to go to be sure that they were still alright and check that the windmill was pulling up enough water for them. So, I had to walk by myself every day after school to see the sheep, while my father stood behind the counter at the trading post store.” 

   “My father had bought me a beautiful black velveteen blouse and a fine colorful skirt as long as my legs. I had silver dimes to decorate the blouse. I had white buckskin leggings. Very fine, for he was a kind father. I had learned to put my hair up by myself, since I had no mother, nor sister to help me. I liked to put a little flower in my hair if I could find one. As I walked to the sheep enclosure, I would sing little songs. Some were Dine’ traditional songs and some I just made up on my way to pass the time, and because I was really just a young girl at play with my life.”
   “One day as I was walking, I noticed a young man on a black horse standing off from the road watching me. I felt embarrassed but he did not seem to be a threat, so I continued on my mission.”
   “Are you getting tired of this old story Beth,” Julia asked.
   “No, no! Please tell it!” said Beth.
   “Alright. Let’s see now. The next day, he was near the road waiting when I came along. He spoke to me, and I could see that he was not of our people. In fact, he was Apache. He told me his name. Jonas Whitedog. Well, Beth, he was very charming and a slow careful stalker. He never came to the house to speak to my father. He just continued to meet me on the road. Soon I began to believe that I loved him. Something that I did not recognize rose in my throat when I saw him waiting for me. My heart pounded so hard, Beth.”
   “Now, at the same time, in our village on the Reservation, where all of this happened, there was a young man about 20 years old named John Chee. I did not know him well, but he worked with my father, so I thought of him as an older person. I did not know at the time that he had spoken to my father, but he felt that I was too young for him to speak to me directly about his interest in me. This sounds very old-fashioned, but it's truly the way we were then. It was so long ago.”
   “Jonas began to hang around the trading post store and to imagine that John Chee was his friend. They were about the same age, but John Chee was only doing his job, waiting on the customer. I think Jonas was camping in the hills when he was not in the village, so he bought supplies there. John Chee was shorter and stocky, and he did not turn my head at all. Jonas looked like a perfect painting of an Indian, like white artists would paint. He was too good looking for his own good. He had a wild attitude.”
   “So, Jonas continued to meet me as I went about my daily chore and I did not mention this to my father, who might have stopped it all if he had known. Finally, he managed to convince me that I should go with him and live with him with his people at his home. I was a fool, Beth. He said I should make a bundle of my clothes and special things and bring it with me the next day on my walk. I didn’t give a thought to my father or what would happen with the sheep without their silly shepherdess.”
   “Unfortunately for Jonas, he bragged to John Chee about his plan to take my father’s daughter away with him. He also mentioned that his family and his people in general had had enough of him, and he was not welcome back home with or without a woman. So, he thought we would just live wild in the hills as long as we could. John kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. He told me all of this much later.”
   “Sweetie, I could use some coffee now, could you help me sit up,” said Julia. Beth took her hands and helped her to sit up in bed, and she took a few moments to drink some of her cooling coffee.
   “Now this is nearly the end of the story,” said Aunt Julia. “The next day when Jonas met me, he had another horse with him. She was a little pinto mare. Very fancy. He must have stolen her somewhere. He helped me up onto the mare and tied my bundle behind me. What a picture we must have made! An indigenous elopement! I was so excited, but also frightened now that it was happening. I looked at the man, his long wild black hair, his sinewy body, his fierce face, and I felt suddenly that I did not know him at all, that I had been playing hide and seek in a way.”
   “Thank God, truly, John and my father, whose name was Thomas by the way, came along in John’s old Ford just as we were getting packed up to go. My father showed Jonas his pistol and suggested that he forget the whole thing. John Chee helped me off the fancy little mare and also retrieved my belongings. I got into the Ford and Jonas took off at high speed with both horses in an awful rage. I think getting frustrated by the other men bothered him more than losing me. I was just a girl after all.”
   “I was both relieved and ashamed. That probably adds up to embarrassment, doesn’t it? I cried and hung my head and thanked them. I believe that was the beginning of wisdom for me. It was rather quiet in the car on the way home. I was in the backseat with my bundle of earthly possessions, like a child.”
   “Well, time went on. I began to appreciate John Chee more and more. He helped me check on the sheep sometimes. He was easy to be with, kind and intelligent, though short. That was a joke, Beth. He was taller than me. At last, I realized what his intentions were and that we would marry. We never really discussed it as a question, we just did it when I was 17. We lived with my father until he died also, then we came out here. Our children were born in the village, but they grew up out here. You know Ben Sr. You haven’t met Sarah, my daughter.”
   “One last thing. Jonas Whitedog killed a ranch hand in Utah, and they put him away for forty years in prison in Utah. I never saw his wild face again.”
   Julia smiled and set her coffee cup down. Beth thought she looked tired.
   “Oh, Auntie, I loved it! It would make a wonderful movie. It’s a great story. And it’s all real! If you have any more adventures to share, I am all ears,” said Beth. “In fact, that one would make a whole novel!”
   “Oh, goodness, it was just my life, just a woman’s early life,” said Julia a little wistfully.
   Jessie stuck his head in the bedroom door and said, “hey do you two want breakfast? I made biscuits and scrambled eggs. I know how to do that much!”
   “Yes!” Both Beth and Julia said together!
   “I’ll bring a big tray,” said Jessie, ducking back out of the room.

The whole ball of yarn, so far: They haven't taken my phone yet.docx