Dogspeak And The People Of The Light

By Daniel Ellison

AJ Duchien, a middle age man overwhelmed by a personal tragedy and haunted by a recurring dream: Find the People of the Light, sells his home and business in New Hampshire. He packs up his belongings, and sets off with his dog Wools.
On the road, Wools attracts strangers whose empathy has a profound effect on him. From Eluna, the owner of a truck stop in Oklahoma, to Juan La Grulla, a New Mexican medicine man, each helps to point the way.
The answers he seeks are found in the abandoned pueblos, located at the edge of the southern Great Plains; a transition zone that holds the key to the People of the Light and the way of forgiveness.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Ellison
• Release date: Feb 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9780991298730

Book preview

Chapter 1

October AJ arrived in Santa Fe just after 5:00 p.m. on Wednesday. He was completely beat, having spent Monday and Tuesday nights catnapping in the van in what amounted to driving straight through from New Hampshire. He pulled into the driveway and sat for a moment, then checked the Norton motorcycle to make sure it was secure. Before he could get out of the van, Evan, his twenty-seven year old son, a tall, muscular young man with curly blond hair, came out the front door with a big grin on his face.

Evan hadn’t asked AJ for much, but he had asked for the Norton. It had been sitting around AJ’s shop for years and when Evan was just a boy, he often sat on it and pretended he was whizzing down some imaginary road. AJ told him the story behind the bike, how he bought it in Gibraltar and rode it around Europe. The restoration of the Norton had become a joint project until Evan got a job in Santa Fe and left AJ to finish it.

Hey, Dad, Evan said, and gave AJ a bear hug.

I finished the Norton, it’s in the van, said AJ.

Evan walked over to the van, a customized, pearl shot gray, 1967 Chevy Sport Van, and opened the two side doors on the passenger side. It’s cool, really cool, but let’s go inside the house. It’s getting dark, and I want to see the bike tomorrow morning in the light.

AJ chuckled as he entered the house. It was furnished with a round table with a bong for a center piece and four chairs. Across the room a four cushion Goodwill couch and matching end tables, along with a set of straight back chairs completed the décor. Do you live alone? asked AJ.

No, Murphy shares the house. He’ll be back late tonight.

I’m kind of beat, Evan, but a beer would be good before I turn in.

The next morning, Evan and his friend Murphy unloaded the Norton from the van and were busy wiping it down when AJ joined them in the yard.

Dad, you remember Murphy?

I do. You went to high school with Evan, right?

I did.

AJ looked him over. He was as tall as Evan, but slightly overweight in an Irish sort of way, with his full lips and round face. His hair was dark and he had a heavy dark beard. AJ stood back and stared at the Norton.

Like so many vintage machines, the Norton’s clean lines and functional design had an appeal, which newer machines copied, but couldn’t duplicate. With its all black, featherbed frame, a black tank adorned with gold stripes, a chrome piece that AJ had machined and stamped with the Norton logo and Evan’s initials, and chrome fenders, it made a statement.

This is what a motorcycle should look like. It was, at the time, the fastest, best handling, and sexiest of all Classic British Motorcycles, said AJ. Sorry I slept so late, but I was beat. Fifty-five is getting old, I guess. The bike needs gas. I drained the tank for the trip out. There’s a gallon can in the van and a helmet. Wear it!

Here, I’ll show you how to start it. AJ made sure the ignition was off, released the compression, and cranked the engine over a few times with the kick starter. Then, he tickled the carburetors. He turned on the ignition and it started on the first kick. He let it warm up a minute or two, then revved it. The bike had the distinct sound of a 360 degree vertical twin with both pistons rising at the same time and firing alternately. He shut it off and handed the keys to Evan. It’s yours. Now give it a go.

Evan started it and rode down the street and back. I love it! There’s nothing like it around town.

There’s probably nothing like it in the state, said Murphy as he walked over to the van. If you ever want to sell this van, Mr. Duchien, let me know first.

Sorry Murphy, but my other son, Glenn, has already asked me for it.

Giving the bike to Evan made AJ feel better than he had since before the divorce. Take care, and always wear your helmet. Oh, there’s a package for you from your mom.

Evan opened the package. Oh, man. He put on the leather jacket, custom made for riding motorcycles. Fits perfect.

AJ had to avert his eyes. He didn’t want Evan to see his tears. Noreen still had that kind of a hold on him. Look, I’m hungry and I need to eat breakfast.

Would you mind if I went for a ride with Murphy? We’ll probably be back around noon.

No, take the bike for a good spin, take your time and enjoy yourself. I think I might go down to the Plaza and look around.

AJ wandered through the shops of downtown Santa Fe and over to the Plaza. Grass, trees, and benches formed the center of the Plaza. The Governor’s Residence, New Mexico Museum of Art, Cathedral Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi and the Loreto Chapel, along with the La Fonda Hotel, built in true pueblo style using adobe construction were the main structures surrounding the Plaza. Interspersed among the main buildings were restaurants, shops, businesses, and art galleries.

AJ walked over to the Indian Market located beneath the portico of the original Governor’s Residence. The Indian women selling their goods were a stoic lot, relying on a heavy, overbearing silence for a sales pitch. In contrast, the Arab merchants of Morocco, where he had spent two years as a Peace Corps Volunteer thirty-five years ago, buzzed around you like a horse fly on Jimson weed until you bought something just to get rid of them. He passed by several vendors, stopping to look at a silver necklace with a turquoise stone set in an oval pendant, which was handcrafted by the Indian woman.

AJ bought the necklace. As the vendor wrapped it up in newspaper, she held up her hand. Make sure you give this to the one you love, she said and handed it to him. AJ stuffed the package in his jacket pocket.

AJ stopped in a restaurant featuring Huevos Rancheros and placed an order. After he finished eating, he drove back to Evan’s so he could take a nap.

The sun, spilling through the curtain-less window of the bedroom, pulled AJ from a sound sleep. He found the coffee pot and poured himself a cup and went outside. Evan was busy waxing and polishing the Norton. Well, what do you think? he asked.

It’s the best thing anybody has ever given me. I rode it through the Plaza and people just stared. A couple of kids came by and said it was the coolest bike they’d ever seen.

Tonight I’d like to take you and Murphy out for dinner. You choose where we go.

That’d be great. I know a really nice cantina and they have good beers. I have the rest of the week off, so, tomorrow I’d like to take you to Gran Quivira. We can stop at a pastry and coffee shop in Madrid. They have really great cappuccino.

Sounds good. AJ was looking forward to going to Gran Quivira. He had visited the area long ago. It consisted of the Salinas Pueblos, which formed the pueblos of Quarai, Abo, and Quivira.

La Cantina Fin del Camino was new to the dining scene of Santa Fe, but its décor was in keeping with the local architecture. A single story adobe with vigas protruding from the roof and a fountain outside. A young Hispanic woman greeted them and led them to a corner table.

My name is Alisa and I’ll be serving you this evening. Would you like something to drink?

Three margaritas, said AJ, and he gazed after her as she left to get their drinks.

You like her, Dad? asked Evan.

Oh, you mean our waitress with the coal black hair, nice boobs, olive skin, and slim ankles? She’s a little young for me, but you should ask her out.

I would, but I got a girlfriend.

As I recall you always had a girlfriend. Do I get to meet this one?

She’s a keeper, Dad. She’s coming to visit the day after tomorrow.

Alisa returned with the drinks and they ordered the enchiladas verdes con carne.

The next morning, AJ woke up early. He walked out the front door and was greeted with a brace of cool air. The sky was cloudless and a deep blue; it promised a nice day.

Good morning, Dad. We’ll stop in Madrid for coffee and a roll before we go to Gran Quivira.

AJ and Evan drove into the park entrance of the Salinas Pueblos. They chose the pueblo of Quarai. The parking lot was full. Usually this place is empty this time of year. I like it because of the Mission, said Evan.

They climbed to the top of the small rise, where the roofless mission church sat, surrounded by what once were gardens. Looking to the south and east of the church, they gazed upon the pueblo dwellings, the remains of apartments where the people lived and played until the late sixteen hundreds. Just beyond were the ever-present Kivas. Interesting, said AJ, this pueblo isn’t along a water course, like the ones in the Rio Grande Valley. They had to rely on rainfall to grow their crops. I don’t even see any signs of an irrigation system here. No wonder they abandoned this pueblo.

Let’s walk the perimeter. When I visited this place with Carla, my girlfriend, who you’ll meet tomorrow, she pointed out that the fringe of the southern Great Plains starts here. Gone are the Apache raiders and the buffalo, only small herds of deer and antelope remain. For me, this is the transition zone, a place where one thing leaves off and another begins. Do you want to sit in the big Kiva? Carla swears that if you listen carefully, you can hear the ancients chanting, said Evan.

Chapter 2

AJ started the van to let it warm up. To the east lay the Pecos Wilderness and the Sangre de Christos Mountains, their peaks ringed with a scattering of crimson clouds. AJ took a moment to breathe in the cool mountain air.

A Volvo station wagon pulled into the driveway. A young woman dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and sneakers with her black hair pulled into a braid and hanging out from under her toque, got out and walked over to AJ.

I’m Carla, she said, extending her hand. He wondered what she thought while she sized him up. He was a couple of inches shorter than Evan, had wavy brown hair, chiseled features, and green eyes.

AJ, Evan’s dad, he said. Her handshake was surprisingly strong.

I’ve got two jugs with strong black coffee, empanadas, biscuits, and orange juice in the car. I thought we could eat on the way. It’s a long drive.

Let’s take my van, it has a full tank and there’s room to take a nap if anyone gets sleepy, said AJ.

Are you sure?

I’m sure. Evan was up late. I’ll help your carry your stuff to the van.

Evan insisted that Carla sit up front with AJ, and he would take a nap on the mattress they had thrown in the back. Go south on I-25, to route 44, and take exit 242 to Zia. Would you like a cup of coffee? she asked.

I would love it, said AJ. Tell me about this healing we’re going to.

The family is holding an Enemy Way Ceremony for their son, who is returning to the reservation after serving twenty years in the Marines. Outsiders aren’t allowed to attend the ceremony, but because my mother is Navajo and I trained with Juan, they consider me one of their own. Anyway, when their son left the reservation to join the Marines, he stepped out of the boundaries of the four sacred mountains. When their warriors return, they perform the Enemy Way Ceremony. This is really important for returning Navajo warriors. Like so many who go to war, they often suffer from spiritual and psychological damage. The ceremony helps restore emotional and spiritual harmony to the person, she said.

Yesterday Evan took me to Gran Quivira.

Oh, which pueblo did you visit? she asked.

We went to Quarai.

That’s my favorite. Did you happen to meet the caretaker, Juan?

I did. He was a very interesting person and he said he knew you and it was too bad you didn’t come with us. He said you should have come.

Did he say anything else? she asked.

Just that it was a strange day and there were an unusual amount of visitors.

"Damn, I wish I’d been there. Juan is the reason I got interested in healing and Medical Anthropology. He is what we call an hechicero, more like a wizard or medicine man."

So, what is your relationship to Juan? asked AJ

I was taking a class in folk medicine and Juan was a guest lecturer. What he had to say were the same lessons my mother taught me, so I looked him up and asked him if he could teach me about being a healer. I didn’t think he would say yes, but he did. He said I have a special gift.

Would you mind telling me something about your special gift?

Well, Juan said I have the ability to see, hear, and feel how people really are.

That is a gift! Most of us only get a glimpse of ourselves being able to communicate on that level.

AJ sipped his coffee, and munched on the empanada. The landscape shifted from the mountainous terrain to a rolling expanse of pastel colored badlands, a collection of cliffs and dry washes that extended some sixty miles north to the foothills of the Ute and San Juan mountain ranges in Colorado. This was the San Juan Basin of the high desert plains of northwestern New Mexico. It’s beautiful, in a grand sort of desolate way. There’s hardly any vegetation, remarked AJ.

Poor drainage and high soil alkalinity are reasons for a lack of vegetation, but it’s valuable land. They’re pumping a lot of oil and natural gas in this area. I camped at Angel Peak and at night I could hear the thumping of the compressors at the wells, somewhere out in the Badlands.

AJ parked in front of the trading post and got out. Carla moved over to the driver’s seat. The ceremony shouldn’t take more than four hours, she said. I hope you guys won’t be too bored while I’m gone.

Evan stopped on the drivers’ side and leaned in and kissed her. We’ll be just fine, take your time.

After the ceremony, Carla found Evan and AJ drinking coffee on the front porch of the trading post. She parked the van and got out with an Airedale puppy in her arms.

Jesus, what are you going to do with the dog? asked Evan.

Take him to the pound in Farmington. He just wandered in during the ceremony. The family said they have too many dogs and they can’t take care of him, but he’s different than most Rez dogs, and therefore special. Anyway, I’ve never seen a Rez dog that looks like him.

What’s so special about a dog? asked Evan.

For the Navajo, dogs are considered a spiritual people and have a traditional role in the community, said Carla.

Spiritual people? Really? said Evan.

It’s not that odd, Evan. Our society often treats dogs as if they were people, said Carla.

The puppy jumped out of Carla’s arms and ran to AJ, jumped into his lap, and snuggled under his chin. AJ reached to the dog’s underbelly and began to gently rub him. He liked the way the puppy smelled, it brought back memories of his first dog, Gypsy, a bull terrier that adored him. Gypsy was always at his side the first ten years of his life. Herbie, his dad’s best friend, gave him the dog to take care of, because he was joining the Army Air Corps.

I hate to take this little guy to the pound, but there are too many dogs on the Rez, Carla said. It’s one of their major problems. People and livestock are being attacked and bitten. Several sheep were killed near here last week. So, can we go by the Farmington pound? asked Carla.

There’s no need, AJ said. I’ll take the dog. Besides, I could use the company and look at him, he’s an Airedale, the largest of all the terriers. This little guy, judging from the size of his paws, is going to grow into a good sized dog.

He’ll be good for you, Dad, said Evan. What are you going to call the little wooly bastard?

Wools.

Perfect, that’s what this place is famous for, said Carla.

I know it’s a kind of a spur of the moment thing, but we could drive over to Flag and spend a couple of days with Glenn, if everyone has the time, said Evan.

I can do it, but it’s up to your dad, said Carla.

Let’s go, it’s been awhile since the three of us have been together, said AJ.

Chapter 3

June

High up in the mountains the melting snowpack ushered in the river rafting season. The three day river rafting trip down the Chama had gone well. It was Murphy’s turn to host the guides for the customary hamburgers and beer. Cheryl, his girlfriend, offered to let him host it at her place. Carla couldn’t make it, but Chris, Carl, and Walter, who had worked the Chama trip with Evan and Murphy, would be there, along with their girlfriends. Some of the other guides who worked for the Anasazi Rafting Company would probably show. Murphy had to buy the beer, Fat Tire, of course; the guides didn’t drink cheap beer.

Murphy raised his bottle of Fat Tire. Here’s to a great trip down the Chama. Man, the women were really buff and the water was great. The release from El Vado Dam was the biggest in the last five years.

We had a shit load of snow this winter, Murph, and a great spring runoff, said Evan.

I’ll drink to the trip and to the best rafting season ever, said Carl.

It was getting late and Evan had to get up early. He was taking two couples through the Taos Box on the Rio Grande. The rapids were class IV whitewater, so he’d have to be sharp, but what the shit, he’d have one more beer and go. Hey, Murph, give me another Fat Tire.

Evan drank half of his beer. Gotta go, guys, he said.

Hey, Evan, whose ass did ya kiss to get the box? asked Walter.

One a whole lot sweeter than yours. Like I said, see ya.

***

AJ had leashed Wools and started out the kitchen door for his early morning run when the phone rang. Who in the fuck would be calling him at five thirty in the morning?

AJ, it’s Noreen. Evan was involved in an accident. I’m afraid he didn’t survive. Please call the Santa Fe Police.

Okay, he heard himself say, as he sat down feeling himself go numb all over. He couldn’t seem to breathe, and realized he wasn’t breathing.

"The police came to my door and told me. They said the Santa Fe Police would give me all the details. I’m