Chapter Seventeen

<i>Make me always ready to come to you
with clean hands and straight eyes.
So when life fades, as the fading sunset,
my Spirit may come to you without shame. – Native American Prayer</i>

Adam sat on the ground next to the pallet of skins where Mike was lying. She smiled up at him, raising her hand for him to hold. “You have learned many things, Tsiishchili.”

“I had a good teacher,” said Adam, smiling down at her. “Little One, I should never have asked you to come. You were too young.”

“I am not so young. I have seen seventeen winters.” Adam’s face saddened. “You are not to blame. You did not know then what you know now. I would have come anyway to bring the medicine.” She turned away and coughed.

“Don’t speak, Ayasha. You should rest.”

“I will rest when my people are safe. Adam, you must promise me. My people must have the medicine or they will die from the white man’s diseases. Promise me you will find a way.”

“I promise. I’ll find a way.”

“Good,” she whispered. “I can rest.” She closed her eyes and let the great sleep take her.

Adam bent his head into his hand and wept.

====================

The next day, when Ben, Joe and Hoss got ready to leave for home, Adam didn’t prepare with them. “Pa, I don’t think the Army will stop you now. You’re too close to Aurora for them to risk it.”

“Adam, I don’t like it. They’ll be looking for you. You need to come with us,” said Ben.

Adam looked his father in the eye. “I’m not leaving until it’s done. I’ll be alright. I know how to blend in.”

Ben took a deep breath and nodded. He knew this was something Adam needed to do to live with everything that had happened the last few weeks; to say goodbye. The Cartwrights and their hands mounted. Ben looked back one last time before he turned to leave while Adam waved as they rode away.

Adam carried Ayasha’s body to the funeral pyre, handing her up to the Shoshoni medicine man, who offered prayers so that her spirit would be not be bound to the earth. When the medicine man came down from the pyre, he handed a lit torch to Kimama standing on one end of the pyre and to Adam standing at the other end. When the last prayer was said, Kimama and Adam lit each end of the pyre and stepped back with the other Shoshoni, watching the smoke carry Ayasha’s spirit to the heavens.

Kimama leaned over to Adam. “Ayasha said you lived bravely with the Aha macave to save all our peoples. She said you are tsaa’ mukua, a good spirit.” She turned to face him, holding his arms. “Tsiishchili, the Shoshoni; Adam Cartwright, the white man, you are welcome in the land of the Shoshoni.” She took his face in her hands, and kissed both cheeks, then turned and walked back to the village.

A Shoshoni brave handed him the bosal reins of a horse. Adam swung his leg up and over, looked back at the pyre, then turned and left, never to return to Furnace Creek.