Shaxoa's Gift by DelSheree Gladden

have at least
stayed in contact with each other.
    “With such a small community, the first
person you ask should be able to direct you to the shaman,” Talon
said.
    I was not keen on the idea of walking up to a
stranger and asking to see their shaman, but I had little time to
pussyfoot around the town. I would ask the first person I met. It
felt strange to me to even think about doing so. Growing up, I had
been taught about the Hano Tewa. They had broken away from the main
tribe after the second Pueblo Revolt against the Spaniards in the
sixteen hundreds. Growing up in such a close knit community, I had
often felt like the Hano Tewa weren’t really part of our tribe
anymore.
    Our Elders would never be approached by an
outsider without first being questioned and introduced by someone
well respected in the community. I felt like a nosy child,
intruding where I didn’t belong. Fingering the necklace again, I
hoped it would be enough. I was so helpless, having to ask for help
so often when I wanted to be the only one Claire truly needed.
Swallowing my pride, I tucked the necklace back under my shirt and
turned to Talon.
    “It’s not too early to head into town, is
it?” I asked. Glancing at the slowly rising sun, I was usually up
just after dawn to begin work on the ranch, but I also knew that
not many others followed the same schedule. I hated to delay any
longer, though. There was no telling how long it would take to
convince the shaman and Shaxoa to help me.
    “The scouts have already spotted a few people
out of their houses. You may at least be able to ask about the
shaman and find out what time would be best to approach her,” Talon
said.
    Wishing I had been able to clean myself up a
little before leaving San Juan again, I ran my fingers through my
hair and hoped I didn’t look too grubby. “Alright then,” I said,
“stay close by. I’ll let you know if I need you.”
    “Be strong, Uriah,” Talon said. Rubbing his
head gently against my leg, he leapt away soon after to rejoin the
scouts.
    I felt so vulnerable as I walked away from
the cougar. I was beginning to believe Talon’s assumption that the
Matwau was unable to hunt me, but I felt like I was about to walk
into something that might prove just as dangerous. And this time, I
had no one to back me up.
    Talon and I had camped only a short distance
from the town, so walking across the sandy stretch of land took
only a few minutes. At first glance, the town reminded me very much
of the San Juan I had grown up in. Most of the houses were old, but
well cared for, and the absence of any street signs or traffic
lights made me smile.
    At this early hour, the streets were still
bare. I wandered toward the center of the small town hoping to find
a store or gas station already open for business. Passing through
the main part of Hano, I found no one. Even the solitary gas
station was not yet open. Making my way further down the street, I
wondered where these people were that the scouting coyotes had
seen.
    The familiar bleating of sheep caught my ear
and drew me to the west. The houses thinned quickly and I
recognized the split rail fences of a corral. The sounds and smells
of the animals made me miss my home even more, though I had not
thought it was possible. Knowing that the animals’ caretaker would
have been up for a while, I approached the fence. A middle aged man
emerged from a small shed with the sheep’s morning meal of
grain.
    Spotting me at the fence, the man’s eyes
narrowed as he took in the sight of me. He suddenly reminded me of
my father, causing my throat to seize. Tall and gruff, covered in
hay and dust, he simply watched me. I tried not to fidget, knowing
that I wasn’t looking my best. “Hello, sir,” I said politely.
    The man nodded and continued to watch me as
he poured the feed he was carrying into the troughs. Leaving the
pails by the inner fence, he walked over to me, careful not to come
too close. “Did you need some help, son?” he