Danny Blackgoat: Rugged Road to Freedom Read online

  Danny Blackgoat:

  Rugged Road

  to Freedom

  Tim Tingle

  © 2014 Tim Tingle

  Cover and interior design: Deirdre Nemmers

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means whatsoever, except for brief quotations in reviews, without written permission from the publisher.

  7th Generation, an imprint of

  Book Publishing Company

  PO Box 99, Summertown, TN 38483

  888-260-8458

  bookpubco.com

  nativevoicesbooks.com

  ISBN: 978-1-939053-05-3

  19 18 17 16 15 14 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

  Printed in the United States

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Tingle, Tim.

  Danny Blackgoat : rugged road to freedom / Tim Tingle.

  pages cm. -- (Danny Blackgoat ; 2)

  Summary: Having escaped from Fort Davis, Texas, seventeen-year-old Danny Blackgoat, a Navajo, must still face many obstacles in order to rescue his family from Fort Sumner, New Mexico, and find freedom after the Long Walk of 1864.

  ISBN 978-1-939053-05-3 (pbk.) -- ISBN 978-1-939053-91-6 (e-book)

  1. Slave trade--West (U.S.)--Fiction. [1. Conduct of life--Fiction. 2. Navajo Indians--Fiction. 3. Indians of North America--Texas--Fiction. 4. Adventure and adventurers--Fiction. 5. Texas--History--19th century--Fiction. 6. New Mexico--History--19th century--Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.T489Dar 2014

  [Fic]--dc23

  2013042439

  Book Publishing Company is a member of Green Press Initiative. We chose to print this title on paper with 100% postconsumer recycled content, processed without chlorine, which saved the following natural resources:

  • 26 trees

  • 824 pounds of solid waste

  • 12,318 gallons of water

  • 2,271 pounds of greenhouse gases

  • 12 million BTU of energy

  For more information on Green Press Initiative, visit www.greenpressinitiative.org. Environmental impact estimates were made using the Environmental Defense Fund Paper Calculator. For more information visit www.papercalculator.org.

  Contents

  Chapter 1: Surprise at the Water Hole

  Chapter 2: Shotguns and Scalping

  Chapter 3: Danger in the Shadows

  Chapter 4: A Bargain with Death

  Chapter 5: Fire Eye’s Bloody Saddle

  Chapter 6: Bodies on the Hillside

  Chapter 7: Manny Seeks Revenge

  Chapter 8: Food for the Desert?

  Chapter 9: New Morning and an Old Voice

  Chapter 10: The Family Blackgoat

  Chapter 11: Grandfather to the Rescue

  Chapter 12: Danny’s Promise

  Chapter 13: Grandfather’s Healing

  Chapter 14: In the Shadow of Death

  Chapter 15: Blood and Water

  Chapter 16: Mr. Grady’s Story

  Chapter 17: Manny’s Camp

  Chapter 18: Grady’s Army

  Chapter 19: Meeting Manny’s Dog

  Chapter 20: The New Manny

  Chapter 21: Farewell to the Old

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To Lonnie and Martha Boggs, whose fine photography inspired the cover art for Danny Blackgoat, Navajo Prisoner.

  Danny Blackgoat’s story began in Danny Blackgoat, Navajo Prisoner and continues in Danny Blackgoat: Rugged Road to Freedom. Watch for the conclusion of Danny’s adventures, coming soon!

  Chapter 1

  Surprise at the Water Hole

  Winter, 1864

  Fort Davis, Texas, a Civil War prison camp for captured rebel soldiers. With the help of Jim Davis, a fellow prisoner, Danny Blackgoat has escaped. Seventeen years old and Navajo, Danny is hoping to rejoin his family, who endured the Long Walk and are now struggling to survive at Fort Sumner, New Mexico.

  “Everybody up!” shouted a guard. Sunrise at Fort Davis was still an hour away. The prisoners rolled and grumbled. Some rolled out of bed. Most rolled over and covered their heads with their pillows.

  “Get up now!” the guard shouted. Two guards walked from bed to bed in the barracks. They prodded the prisoners with their rifle butts. When a guard came to Danny Blackgoat’s bed, he paused. Danny was a young Navajo boy, the only Indian prisoner at the fort. He always slept under the covers, curled up like a snake.

  “Well,” he said, “looks like our troublemaker thinks he can sleep all day long.”

  He nudged the boy in the ribs. Danny didn’t move. The guard flung back the covers. The bed was empty, except for a blanket rolled up to look like a body.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “The Indian boy’s gone!”

  The other prisoners scrambled out of bed and surrounded Danny’s cot.

  “I knew you guards couldn’t keep him here,” said an older prisoner.

  “He’s smarter than all of you put together,” said another.

  The prisoners started talking to themselves, softly at first, and then they talked loud enough for every guard to hear. Some even yelled at the guards.

  “Yeah, I hope he’s never caught!” shouted a prisoner.

  Soon all of the prisoners were cheering Danny Blackgoat.

  “You thought he was a dumb Indian,” said a young prisoner from Tennessee, “and he outsmarted you!”

  The guards backed away. Four soldiers entered the barracks, led by an officer. They aimed their shotguns at the prisoners.

  “Back to your beds,” the officer shouted. “Sit down and keep your hands where we can see them. A prisoner has escaped. If you say another word or move suddenly, we will shoot you!”

  By sunrise, Danny Blackgoat was already ten miles from Fort Davis, riding Fire Eye, his new horse. As the sun topped the mountains to the east, Danny came to a halt. He led Fire Eye away from the road and into a grove of scrubby trees.

  “Take it easy, boy,” he said in his Navajo language. A cloud rose from his mouth as he spoke. The air was freezing cold.

  Fire Eye stomped the ground and shook his head. He was breathing hard. “We need to find some water,” Danny said. He lifted himself high in the saddle and looked up and down the road. “Nobody’s following us. We’re safe for now,” he whispered.

  He would not be safe for long.

  “Let’s go, boy!” he said, patting Fire Eye on the neck. He urged his horse up the slope of a hill. From the top, Danny spotted a ranch less than a mile away. Surrounding the ranch, cattle grazed on the open plains.

  Where there are cattle, Danny thought, there must be water.

  He kept a sharp eye on the ranch house, looking for any sign of people. Seeing no one, he turned his gaze to the cattle. They gathered at the base of a hill, in a clump of dry mesquite trees.

  That must be where the water is. Danny eased Fire Eye down the hill, staying as far away from the ranch house as possible. As he neared the cattle, he saw a bright puddle of water, bubbling from the rocks at the base of the hill.

  “Ready to drink, Fire Eye? I’m thirsty, too,” he said. The trees blocked the view from the ranch house, so Danny felt safe. He stepped from the saddle and took Fire Eye by the reins. “Easy, boy,” he said. “These are only cattle. They won’t hurt us.”

  Fire Eye saw the water and stomped the ground.

  “I guess that means you like what you see,” Danny said. “Here, let’s get a drink.” He cupped his hands and knelt by the spring. Fire Eye began to drink.

  “Hey!”

  Danny leaped to his feet. The shout came from the trees. He saw no one.

  POW! A shotgun blasted a rock two feet
from where Danny stood.

  “What are you doing here?” the voice called out. A young boy, close to Danny’s age, stepped from the shadows.

  “We kill Indians when we see ’em,” said the boy.

  Danny backed away, holding his hands high.

  “I don’t want to hurt anybody,” he said.

  The boy crouched down and fumbled with his shotgun. “Don’t move,” he said.

  He is reloading his shotgun, thought Danny. He’s going to shoot me.

  Danny jumped over the spring and ran to the crouching boy. He knocked the shotgun from his hands and shoved him hard. The boy landed on his back, and Danny picked up the shotgun by the barrel. As the boy rolled over and grabbed him by the legs, Danny lifted the shotgun, ready to strike.

  A split second before he smashed the boy in the head, Danny froze.

  He dropped the shotgun. He also dropped his jaw. The boy was not a boy. A teenage girl sat up, rubbing her skinned elbows.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said. “I’ve never shot anybody.”

  Chapter 2

  Shotguns and Scalping

  “You said you were going to shoot me,” Danny reminded her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “You’re not out of danger yet,” the girl said. “My dad heard the shot. I know he did, and he’s on his way here now. You better hide.”

  Danny took Fire Eye by the reins and hurried to a thick clump of trees. He knelt down behind a tree stump and pulled Fire Eye close. He watched as the girl reloaded her shotgun. She dipped a cup in the spring and took a long sip of water. Then she sat on the rocks, waiting for her father.

  She could have killed me, thought Danny.

  He never heard the footsteps of someone creeping up behind him. But he did hear the voice, four inches from his ear. It was a quiet voice, serious and strong.

  “Make a move and you’re a dead man,” the voice said.

  Danny froze.

  “Lift your hands above your head. Now turn around, real slow.”

  Danny did as he was told. A tall, thin man faced him. He had a dark beard and green eyes.

  He’s the same age as my father, Danny thought. Maybe forty years old.

  “Are you alone?” the man asked.

  “Yes,” Danny said.

  “You’re lying. How many are with you?”

  “I am alone.”

  “Don’t move,” the man said. “Sarah!” he shouted. “Are you safe?”

  “Yes, Dad,” Sarah called out.

  “Wait where you are, Sarah. We’ll come to you,” her dad said. He stuck the rifle barrel in Danny’s back. “Take your horse by the reins and move. And don’t forget, if you try to run, I’ll shoot you.”

  Soon Danny and her father joined Sarah by the spring.

  “What was he doing? Did he hurt you?” her father asked.

  “No, Dad. I saw him getting a drink, the boy and his horse. I tried to shoot him, but I missed,” Sarah said.

  “Did you see any other Indians?”

  “No. But if there are more Indians, they would have heard the shot,” said Sarah. “They would be here by now.”

  “Unless they’re hiding out, waiting till dark,” her father said.

  Sarah and her father looked to the hills surrounding them. After a long look, their eyes met. Danny saw fear on their faces, the fear of being attacked at night while they slept.

  “If you are alone,” asked Sarah’s father, “what are you doing? Make me believe you, if you want to live.”

  Danny took a long breath. “I am going to my family,” he said. “I was a prisoner at Fort Davis. I am going to my family.”

  “Why were you a prisoner?” he asked. “What did you do?”

  “I am Navajo. That is all I did,” said Danny. “The soldiers burned our homes. They killed our sheep. We did nothing.”

  Danny slowly turned his face away. The memories returned. He remembered Crowfoot, his favorite sheep. The soldiers cut the throats of the sheep. They made Danny watch as his sheep bled to death.

  Danny had tried to save Crowfoot. He had grabbed him and run away. But a soldier shot Crowfoot, shot him in the head. Crowfoot died in Danny’s arms, covering them both in blood.

  “Look at me, boy!” Sarah’s father shouted. He grabbed Danny’s face and whipped it around.

  Danny eyes were filled with tears. For the first time since he left his family, he shook with sobs. His chest heaved, and he cried aloud. He wrapped his arms around his chest, embarrassed that they would see him cry.

  “I want to see my family,” he finally said. “I am alone.”

  “Dad,” said Sarah. “Don’t be mean to him. He’s telling us the truth, can’t you see?”

  Sarah’s father lowered his shotgun. He reached his hand to Danny. Danny had seen enough white men to understand a handshake. He lifted his hand.

  “My name is Bill Grady,” Sarah’s father said.

  “My name is Danny Blackgoat,” said Danny. “Nice to meet you.”

  Bill Grady smiled. “My wife has lunch ready. Would you like to eat with us?”

  “Yes,” Danny said. “I am hungry. I would like to eat with you.”

  “I’ll run and tell Mom,” Sarah said, dashing away.

  “She doesn’t have any friends,” Mr. Grady said. “She’ll want to know everything about you.”

  Bill Grady knew his daughter well. She and her mother served a lunch of beef stew and corn bread. The stew was thick and delicious.

  Better than anything at the fort, Danny thought.

  Mrs. Grady was at least a foot shorter than her husband. She was thin, too. She had a friendly face, reddish hair, and green eyes.

  “Take all you want,” she said to Danny.

  Danny never looked up. He was shy, even around Navajo friends. And now he sat at a table in the home of white people.

  “Danny Blackgoat,” Sarah said. “I like your name. It’s different, but I like it.”

  She waited for Danny to reply. He looked at his stew and said nothing.

  “What’s it like to be an Indian?” Sarah asked. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “I bet you do war dances and scalp people. Did you ever scalp anybody?”

  “I don’t think so,” Danny said. “What is scalp?”

  “Sarah,” Mrs. Grady said, “let Danny eat.”

  “I just want to know,” said Sarah. She turned to Danny and said, “Scalp is when you cut somebody’s hair off.”

  “My grandmother does that,” said Danny.

  “Your grandmother!” Sarah yelled. “Your grandmother scalps people?”

  “Yes,” said Danny. “But only when they need it.”

  “What?” shouted Sarah. “Mother, did you hear what he said? His grandmother scalps people!”

  The Gradys laughed, a big hearty laugh, but not Sarah.

  “What’s funny about that?”

  “Did I do something wrong?” Danny asked. He lowered his eyes and stared at his plate.

  “No, Danny,” said Mr. Grady. “You did nothing wrong.”

  “Then why is everybody laughing at me?”

  “I’m not laughing at you,” yelled Sarah. “I want to hit you! Where is my shotgun?”

  “Sarah, sit down,” said Mr. Grady, rocking back and forth in laughter as he said it.

  “I am not eating at the table with this boy who thinks it’s all right if his grandmother scalps people!” said Sarah, all in one long breath. She plopped into her seat and crossed her arms. “You can’t make me eat,” she whispered.

  “Sarah, Danny’s grandmother cuts people’s hair,” said Mrs. Grady. “Like I cut yours, but only when you need it, just like his grandmother does.”

  “That’s not what he said,” said Sarah.

  “He doesn’t know what scalp means,” said her mother.

  While Sarah and her mother spoke, Mr. Grady looked at Danny, alone and afraid.

  “Danny,” he said. “Nobody is mad at you. We don’t always kno
w what somebody is saying.”

  “Scalping is bad, isn’t it?” asked Danny.

  “Yes,” said Mr. Grady. “Scalping is when someone kills another person and takes his hair––like a trophy.”

  “No Navajo would do that,” said Danny. “I have heard of it, but none of my people would ever do that.”

  “Let us hope we never meet anyone who would,” said Mr. Grady.

  Soon Danny Blackgoat and the Gradys, his new friends, finished their noon meal.

  “I need to go,” Danny said. “Thank you. The food was good.”

  Sarah and her father packed a saddlebag with hard bread and cooked beef for Danny. The Gradys stood as Danny mounted Fire Eye and patted her neck.

  “Good-bye,” he said, lifting his hand to wave. He tugged the reins and urged Fire Eye up the hill and in the direction of the road.

  The Gradys stood watching long after Danny had disappeared over the hill.

  “I am afraid for him,” said Mr. Grady.

  “That talk of scalping seemed funny at the time,” said Mrs. Grady. “But I don’t like to think of it.”

  Sarah said what they were all thinking.

  “Please don’t let the scalping ones find him. Or us.”

  Chapter 3

  Danger in the Shadows

  Rick should be here soon, Danny thought. He looked up and down the road. There was no one on the road as far as Danny could see.

  From the time of his escape, the plan was to meet Rick, who drove a supply wagon. Rick was a white man who was married to a Navajo woman. He was a good friend and would do anything to help Danny Blackgoat.

  I can’t be careless, Danny thought. Not again. Sarah almost shot me this morning. I should stay out of sight until Rick shows up.

  He turned Fire Eye, and they moved into a clump of scrub oak trees. He steered his horse through broken branches and thin tree trunks. He stopped when he felt he couldn’t be seen from the road.

  “This should be safe, boy,” he said, patting Fire Eye on the neck.

  He eased himself from the saddle and tied Fire Eye to a tree trunk. Now that he was settled, Danny worried about his friend. Rick was driving a wagon of food supplies through dangerous territory.