Not on my Watch

Chapter 12

"The fierce wind that carves a mighty mountain can also polish a diamond and thus reveal its inner light." --Rufus Flycatcher, from "Of Mice and Magic."

                                     September 25, 2012

                                                Mesa Verde

           Rowan was fast asleep one night about three days after Vin had left for his mission.   She had a vivid dream that she heard Vin's voice in her head.  Clear as a bell, he said, Kat!  I'm sorry.   I tried...I love you!   It was so clear and startling, it woke her up.   She looked around her, trying to decipher how she was feeling.  A sick sense of dread began to steal over her, similar to the feeling she'd had on the day she found out about Mike's death.   It was different, though.  She was worried, but she still felt Vin's presence in her mind.  With Mike, she'd felt his spirit separate itself from hers, and she knew he wouldn't be coming back.

           With Vin, she knew something had happened, though what she wasn't sure.  Is he dead, too?   Am I destined to live the rest of my life alone?   She felt cold, and pulled the sleeping bag tighter around her.  She cried out to the universe, begging to receive answers about where Vin was and what had happened that she heard his mental cry of anguish.   For a long time, she got nothing.  She was on the brink of despair and tears when words came to her mind.  Don't worry about your fiancé.  He lives.  That's all you need to know for now.  In time, all will be set right. You may think you've been abandoned, but it's not so.  There's a reason for everything.   Don't lose hope.  You haven't yet completed your mission together.  Sleep now.  You're going to need your rest.  You have a lot of responsiblities on your shoulders.

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           Later that day, Rowan was conducting training exercises with her troops.  It was another hot day, and she had ordered a rest.  She decided to walk around part of the camp.  The people were adjusting nicely to living off the land.   She came across a group of women weaving baskets from the yucca that grew abundantly in the park.   There was another group sewing clothes. Some of the older Navajos still knew the skill of making clothes from deerhide.  The rebel group was adopting their own style of clothing.  Instead of jeans and Air Force-issued uniforms, everyone was beginning to wear clothes made themselves.  They made lace-up tunics, leggings, and boots, all from leather.   The clothes were lighter, and they also worked as a type of camouflage in the desert.   Plus, with homemade uniforms, no one could tell any of them were military, though the Air Force personnel still used formalities and rank when working with other servicemen.

          Other women were preparing food for the mid-day meal.  She stopped to chat with the cooks.  The food smelled good.  It had been a busy morning, and she was hungry.  "What's for lunch today, Mary?" she asked an older Navajo woman.

           Mary's white hair hung in a braid down her ample back.   "Some of that squash soup you like, Lieutenant, with sides of cornbread and black beans."

           "That sounds wonderful.  How much longer?"

          "Only about five minutes."

          "Great.  Let me know, and I'll call the troops in."

           She looked out and saw a cloud of dust about fifty feet away.  A messenger came running up.   He was out of breath.  "Lieutenant!  I was told I could find you here.   Bad news.  Our northern outpost just received word from Chief Joseph that some of his people found Captain Howard and the group of men who went recruiting with him.  They were in the desert about fifteen miles to the northeast of here.  They're all dead.   It looks like they were ambushed, killed, and left there to rot. They'd been dead for several days when they were discovered.  The natives are on their way here now, bringing the bodies for burial."