Excerpt: 1000 words for website

It was at this time that the Great Council of Pueblo Bonito began to issue ever harsher measures and demand more of the outlying pueblos. They sent emissaries, usually accompanied by a half dozen unsavory, brutish men (more like goons) to impose the demands of the Council. These demands were accompanied by threats of indenture (a nice word for slavery) and in some cases violence. These emissaries were rewarded by the Council when their methods achieved results and so the threats became ever more brutal. Some went so far as to threaten cannibalism. Once the larger pueblos had been notified of the new edicts, the emissaries began to go further afield to the smaller pueblos nestled in the surrounding foothills. Eventually, they worked their way southeast to the vicinity of Pueblo Chico.

Long before they reached the pueblo they had been spotted by Thin Reed who was on guard that day. As he saw the group winding their way up the dusty trail he noted how heavily armed the four men accompanying the emissary were. This could only be the group that Grandpa had warned about. The little Pueblo had to be notified, he would have to run the entire distance to give them sufficient warning. He descended from his observation point, moving through the rough underbrush parallel to the road until he was well out of sight of the group. Then he entered the well-worn path and broke into his long effortless stride for which he had become famous. When the little Pueblo was in sight, and only then, did he begin to feel the exhaustion. He had been running from mid-morning and it was almost mid-day. He spotted Grandpa walking near the meeting place and raced to meet him and inform him of what he had seen.

Grandpa spotted Thin Reed as he entered the west side of the Pueblo and knew instinctively by his long strides that he had important news. Thin Reed was perspiring heavily, his long face showed the strain of the effort he had made. He bent over to catch his breath. Grandpa patted him on the shoulder gently and motioned for him to sit, offering him a gourd full of fresh water. Thin Reed took only a small sip for if he drank deeply he knew he would be ill. “They are coming from Pueblo Bonito – five men, one important one and four very heavily armed strong brutes,” he gasped as he took another small sip of the refreshing water. Grandpa glanced up at the sun, thought for a minute, patted Thin Reed on the shoulder once again and told him to go home to rest.

Grandpa knew by the time of day and the speed with which Thin Reed had traveled that the envoy and his guards could not possibly reach the Pueblo until well after dark. He also knew that without bulky torches they could not negotiate the difficult path to the Pueblo. If he had to guess, they would probably head for Pueblo Llano, a smallish pueblo a short distance to the southwest, which they could reach before nightfall; but could he be sure that they would not press on to Pueblo Chico and spend the night? That would be disastrous, for they could ask for quarters in the various houses, and something might be noticed. As he walked towards Broken Toe’s mother’s house a plan began to formulate in his mind. Maybe, just maybe, he could persuade the emissary and the guards to go to Pueblo Llano after all. As he approached the house, Broken Toe walked out to greet him. Broken Toe was fully armed, his bow polished so it gleamed in the afternoon sun. His quiver was brimming with newly made arrows. His throwing stick was stuck in his belt, and his flint knife hung from his leather belt. When they reached the grove, they looked all round to make sure they were alone, then squatted down, as was Anasazi custom.

“What do townspeople fear the most when in the country,” he asked almost whispering. “The whirring snakes,” as the large diamondback rattlesnakes were known, he replied. “Yes,” replied Grandpa, “but what frightens them most close to dusk and in the foothills?” “The Mountain Lion,” shouted the young trapper. “That was my thought as well,” mused Grandpa. “I know you can imitate the growl of the Mountain Lion almost perfectly, Straight Arrow told me so,” said Grandpa, pausing deliberately. “I know what you want me to do – you want me to scare someone,” smiled the young man.

“Well, yes, in a way. You see, there is a delegation from Pueblo Bonito coming here. They are still too far to reach our Pueblo by nightfall, so I want you to go to the road fork that leads to Pueblo Llano, pick a spot between the fork and Pueblo Bonito, hide yourself well and imitate the hunting call of the great cat. Then, silently move forward to the best spot a short distance on the path to our Pueblo, within shouting distance of the fork, and imitate the great cat – you know, as if it is another hungry one,” said Grandpa, smiling. Broken Toe’s eyes twinkled at the devilish plan Grandpa had devised. He would make the calls so realistic the delegation would run all the way to Pueblo Llano. He would be in place well before their arrival and there was little chance that there would be any hunters about, especially from Pueblo Llano. “Don’t overdo it, just enough until they are well on their way to Pueblo Llano, then stay near the crossing to make sure no one else is coming here. If they do not turn to the other pueblo, race back here unseen and report to me. In any case, see me again tonight when you return,” cautioned Grandpa. Broken Toe left the grove silently and unseen - the trademark of a great stalker. Some said his feet never touched the ground for his moccasins never broke a dry twig.