The Shadow of Kukulkan

By Eugene Sierras

Eugene has had a lifelong love of philosophy, which has guided his life since early childhood. He grew up in the desert southwest of Arizona and can remember as a boy when the state had less than a million people in it. The vast, empty deserts, the mountains, and the indigenous people were always easily accessible, often within or just beyond the city limits. As a youth, he spent long hours alone in the desert and mountains learning and appreciating the solitude of sparsely populated places.
After graduating from the University of Arizona in 1964 with a BS in zoology, he was called to active duty with the United States Navy and served until his retirement in 1986. During that service, he qualified as a surface officer and a naval flight officer assigned to various fighter squadrons and embarked on several different aircraft carriers. He had two combat tours in Southeast Asia in the Tonkin Gulf off the coast of North Vietnam. He retired from the navy in 1986.
After retirement from the navy, he completed a second career with the Arizona Department of Public Safety where he served as a police dispatcher and licensing agent for private investigators and agencies and security guards and agencies. He worked with uniformed highway patrol officers and with criminal investigators.
He currently lives in Tucson, Arizona, with his wife, a granddaughter, and great-grandson.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Dec 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466907003

Eugene Sierras

Angelita V. Lopez is a 6th generation Tucsonan (originally ranchers from Avra Valley). She graduated from the U of A (1963) after attending Catholic Schools and Tucson High. She taught elementary and middle school for a total of 39 years in different school districts in the cities of Anaheim and Burbank, California and Tucson. In anticipation of retirement she and her teaching partner, Colleen DiBiase (also a 2nd generation U of A graduate and Tucson educator) opened a retail Catholic store in the historic Sam Hughes neighborhood. It remained open for 15 years and due to health problems had to be sold, much to the sadness of its loyal customers. Eugene Sierras attended local Tucson schools and graduated from the University of Arizona in 1964. He served in the United States Navy and retired as a Commander. He has completed extensive research in plasma physics, mythology and the Electic Universe and has written not only fiction but about the synthesis of plasma physics, mythology and religion.

Book preview

The Shadow of

Kukulkan

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Eugene Sierras

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© Copyright 2011 Eugene Sierras.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental.

Cover photo: replica of the Aztec Calendar Stone

Photo by Eugene Sierras

Printed in the United States of America.

isbn: 978-1-4669-0702-7 (sc)

isbn: 978-1-4669-0701-0 (hc)

isbn: 978-1-4669-0700-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011961941

Trafford rev. 12/13/2011

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter One

E xcellent! Donna Friedlander exclaimed. "Excellent! That was

perfect! Jon, give me two more shots with that same setting and we’ll be through."

You’ve got it! The photographer said.

Jon, the photographer, was also pleased. The light, soft in the late northern Arizona afternoon sun highlighted the Hopi village precisely as he wanted it forming a perfect background for the two beautiful young Hopi models. Not only would he receive a very respectable fee from this week’s work but the advertisements were sure to serve as a testimonial to his work. He had received permission from Donna to include them in the portfolio that his agent wanted to send to New York.

Janine, did you have a chance to speak with Cecilia? Donna said to the woman next to her.

Yes. She insists on returning to Flagstaff alone. She does not want to attend tonight. Janine said.

That’s a shame. Donna responded. It would certainly do her good to enjoy herself a little.

"I know. I talked to her about it over coffee. She really does want to be alone. She’ll be returning to Tucson early tomorrow morning. She said she just wanted to take her time driving to Flagstaff, get to bed early and then return home as soon as possible.

She did thank us for inviting her. She said it was exactly what she needed.

Cecilia Reyes was a close friend of the two women. They had invited her with them to spend three days in Flagstaff and one day here in Old Oraibi completing the portfolio of photographs to be used in advertising for Tucson Horizons, a very popular slick magazine that was Donna’s biggest and most lucrative client. The advertising agency that Donna Friedlander owned had been given the assignment to prepare a multi issue spread for the Southwest Boutique, one of Tucson’s most fashionable and exclusive, meaning expensive, woman’s clothing store. The first three days had been spent in Flagstaff using Anglo models. This last day in Old Oraibi, a Hopi village within the reservation, had been a brilliant innovation by Donna. The two beautiful Hopi models were a perfect contrast to the effort and brought a unique perspective to the series of advertisements that would be featured in each of the next year’s issues.

To recognize Donna’s work, the Rosenbergs, owners and publishers of Tucson Horizons were hosting a lavish party at the Flagstaff country club. The event was certain to be the highlight of the small town’s social season. Donna had hoped that her friend would attend. Cecilia had been depressed since the anniversary of her only child’s death. Cecilia Reyes was not only an attractive woman, but a wealthy, independent businesswoman as well, and one who was very popular.

It would be no use to try to change her friend’s mind Donna mused. She remembered how they had first met several years ago at a woman’s health and fitness club. Cecilia’s discipline and single mindedness, her drive for perfection in everything she did, including perfecting her body, had inspired her to continue her fledgling advertising business at a time when it appeared almost certain that her first business venture would fail miserably.

She smiled as she remembered. Luckily, it was at that time that she had hired Janine, a recently divorced housewife with two children and badly in need of a job. Together the two women had developed Donna’s agency into one of Tucson’s most successful and sought after. It had not hurt, she reflected, that Cecilia had invested a considerable sum of money at a critical time.

What was she doing when you left her? Donna asked.

She was talking to Mr. Koyawena. She had asked to talk to him before she left. He interrupted his visit with a man from Tucson to talk to her.

Fred Koyawena was a village elder, what Donna understood to be a medicine man although she wasn’t certain how they were called by the Hopis themselves.

That makes sense. Cecilia has been getting involved with spiritual things lately. Donna said.

Do you think this is a new direction she’s taking or just a passing stage? Janine asked.

I don’t know, Janine. I know that she has been very sullen and quiet the last few years.

It hasn’t affected her business any. That appears to be doing extremely well. Janine replied.

I know. She’s fortunate to have good people working for her. It helps her to get away for a few days now and then. Oh, well, I hope she’s enjoyed this trip. Donna said.

I think so. It looks as if Jon is done. I’ll pay the girls and get the crew ready to return to Flagstaff. Janine said as she hurried off to make preparations for winding up the set.

Donna turned to see Cecilia approach her. She smiled at her friend, an attractive woman of about forty five. She was dressed in a long, flowing turquoise colored dress with a silver Concho belt. Always tasteful and appropriate, she thought as she greeted her.

Are you sure you won’t change your mind about tonight, Cecilia? Donna asked as Cecilia approached her to say goodbye.

No. But thanks for asking. You and Janine have a good time. I’m going to take a leisurely drive to Flagstaff. I’m going to go to bed early then leave for Tucson as early as possible tomorrow morning.

Did you enjoy these last four days? Donna asked her friend.

Yes. And I’m grateful to you for asking me. It looks as if you have completed what is certain to be an extremely successful assignment. I hope that is the case. Cecilia replied as she smiled at her friend.

Are you sure you just want me to do good to protect your investment? Donna laughed. Thanks to you we’ve been able to keep growing.

Becoming more serious, she continued:

Cecilia, I really can’t tell you how grateful I am for your support, including your financial assistance.

Don’t worry about it, Donna, Cecilia replied, you’re an excellent businesswoman and I have the utmost confidence in you. Just keep doing what you’re doing and everything will be fine.

Well, I want you to know that I am eternally grateful. You believed in me and supported me when things didn’t look all that great. Not only will I repay you back with interest but if you ever need a favor or help from someone, about anything, you can always count on me. I promise.

I know, Donna. I appreciate your friendship very much.

Cecilia waved goodbye as she watched the two Chevrolet Blazers with her friends and crew in them drive out of the small village towards Flagstaff.

Time to go myself she thought as she entered her roadster and started the engine. Looking around one last time she released the brake, placed the transmission in drive and slowly departed the village. She had chosen a longer but more scenic route for her return trip to Flagstaff, one which would permit her to enjoy the solace of being alone. The sun was low on the western horizon. Sunset came early to northern Arizona in November.

About an hour out of Old Oraibi an ugly grinding noise interrupted her tranquility. As she wondered what the noise meant the roadster’s steering wheel began to vibrate in her hand. Instinctively she slowed down, pulled off to the side of the remote two lane highway and stopped. She left the engine running in order to determine if that was the source of the noise and vibration and stepped out of the car to open the hood. Peering inside she heard only the quiet purring of the engine, apparently trouble free.

Now what? She thought to herself getting back into the car. She attempted to call 911 and the operator with her mobile phone but was unable to get through. Placing the phone back into its cradle she once again exited the car, walking around it slowly to see if she could determine what the problem was. All the tires appeared normal and there wasn’t anything caught under the vehicle. Reentering it again, she slowly drove several hundred yards. The noise seemed louder now, not having to compete against the rushing air against the vehicle at the greater speed. The vibration, while noticeable, was not as bad at the slower speed. However, it seemed to her that if she continued to drive more serious damage would result.

Shutting off the engine she got out and walked to the passenger side. Looking around her she realized that she was truly in a remote area. The two lane highway stretched from horizon to horizon and was completely empty. All about her, as far as she could see, the plain of the high plateau was empty. She shuddered as she felt a chill resulting from the rapidly dropping temperature. Already the sun had become hidden beyond the mountains to the west. It would soon be dark.

Staring to the east she noticed the headlights of a vehicle coming into view from the direction in which she had just come. Would the vehicle bring help or danger? Suddenly she felt vulnerable.

She opened the passenger door, reached into the glove compartment and retrieved a small 9 millimeter caliber pistol which she placed into her belt on her left side. She then took a light jacket which, when she had donned it, covered the handle of the pistol protruding from her belt removing it from sight. She stood next to the passenger side door to await the approaching vehicle. After several minutes intently watching it she could make out the outlines of a pickup truck with a camper shell.

William Paul Castillo had been looking at the vehicle with its emergency flashers on since it had come into his view several miles back. As he drove closer he could identify it as a sleek red Mercedes sports model off to the side of the highway with the passenger door open. Standing next to it he saw the woman who had asked to speak to Fred Koyawena earlier this afternoon as he was completing his discussion with the village elder.

She must be with that group from Tucson that was photographing the models in the village, he thought. I wonder why she’s alone.

He pulled his big Ford pickup behind the Mercedes, turned the engine off, and approaching the woman asked:

What’s wrong with your car? Can I help?

Thank you. She replied. I was worried that no one would come along. I’m not sure. All of a sudden it began to make this terrible grinding noise and to shudder. I thought the steering wheel would come loose in my hands.

Do you think it might be the engine?

I don’t think so. It only makes noise and shakes when it’s moving.

Mind if I drive it?

No. Go ahead; the key is in the ignition.

Bill, as he was known to his friends, smiled at the woman. Entering the Mercedes he turned the engine on and drove slowly some two hundred yards from where the woman stood. The noise appeared to come from the right rear wheel. Placing the transmission in reverse he backed the roadster to where it had originally been, secured the engine and got out.

What do you think? She asked.

Might be a wheel bearing. I’ll take a look.

He walked to the rear of his truck and opened the door to the camper shell. Scrambling inside he opened his tool box and retrieved a lug wrench, jack, flashlight, and several tools. He returned to the rear of the Mercedes.

This will only take a minute. He told the woman who was watching him intently.

Please hold the flashlight on the wheel so I can see. It’s almost dark.

Jacking the car up behind the right rear tire, he took the wheel off and then removed the hub cover. After several minutes he pulled the bearing out and held it up so the woman could see.

What is that? She asked.

It’s the wheel bearing. The seal either broke or became loose. The grease has leaked out leaving the bearings with no lubrication. The wheel bearing will have to be replaced, although there was no damage to the spindle.

Is that a big job? She asked, worried.

No. But, we’ll have to drive into Flagstaff to get a new one then return to put it back on. Once we have the new part the actual repair will only take a few minutes.

I don’t believe anything will be open in Flagstaff by the time we get there. It’s almost dark now. She said.

Would you like to drive into town tonight? I’ll be happy to give you a lift. He told her.

What about the car? I’d hate to leave it just sitting here. Perhaps it would be better to drive in early tomorrow. Then, I can get a service truck to bring me back out. She spoke as she considered her options.

Tell you what, Miss; you can sleep in the back of my truck tonight. It’s carpeted so it’s nice and warm. I’ve got two sleeping bags. You’ll be comfortable and safe.

My name is Cecilia. Cecilia Reyes. Please, what is yours?

Bill Castillo. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

As he spoke he held out his hand, a gesture she reciprocated. He took her hand and shook it gently.

Well, Bill, if I sleep in your sleeping bag in the camper, where will you sleep?

I’ve got two sleeping bags and a cot. I’ll sleep outside and be just fine, thanks.

How far do you suppose we are from Flagstaff? She asked, putting off a decision until she considered all the facts.

Between ninety and a hundred miles, I guess. It’s about sixty or so miles on Indian Route 2 to Sunrise and Indian Route 15. Then about forty miles or so west on 15 to Flagstaff.

Cecelia looked at the stranger standing in front of her. He was in his late thirties, about five feet ten inches tall. He looked to be of slight build, standing there in his denim shirt and jeans, but she noticed he was well proportioned and looked like an athlete. His dark hair, somewhat tousled, had some noticeable streaks of grey scattered throughout. Although he was smiling it was in his eyes that she saw what would cement her decision. In those eyes she saw what she knew was a kind and gentle man, if somewhat distant. In those eyes she recognized a kindred soul, someone whose experience she knew, by intuition, was somewhat similar to hers. One of the few things she had learned to trust was her intuition.

I’ll take you up on your very kind offer. Were you on a camping trip or something? How do you happen to have two sleeping bags in your truck?

I always have a spare in case one becomes lost or wet. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks traveling and doing a little fishing. I spent several days in Greer in the White Mountains. I tell you what, let me make a fire and prepare some supper. I’ll tell you about my trip while we eat and have a cup of coffee. Ok?

Ok! A place to sleep and supper too! This is my lucky day. She smiled.

I’m impressed. He said to her as he walked to the truck to take out what he needed to set up a camp. Here, your car just broke down and you say it’s a lucky day. I like your attitude.

She laughed. I’m saying I’m lucky because you came along. I would hate to spend the night out here all alone. Let me help.

Bill moved two beach chairs, several pots, pans, dishes and cups, and a five gallon container of water from the truck to an area several feet off the highway. He positioned several stones in a circle. Retrieving a bundle of wood from the truck, he soon had a fire blazing. Cecilia, feeling the warmth of the fire, stood close to it as Bill returned to the truck and brought a cooler and a large bag to the fire.

How does beef stew, tortillas and coffee sound? He asked his companion as he busied himself with preparations for supper.

Outstanding! Listen, what can I do? I want to help. She replied.

Take this flashlight and this piece of canvas. It has two handles on each end. Walk around the camp and pick up as much dead wood as you can find. We’ll need it to keep the fire going.

Ok. She said, happy to be able to contribute. She set out and within the space of an hour had emptied three loads of wood next to the fire.

Have a seat. Here, take this wash cloth and this pot of warm water. You can wash. As soon as you’re done I’ll serve you.

She did as she was told and sitting down in the low beach chair accepted a plate of steaming beef stew and two large flour tortillas.

I’ll set the coffee next to you. Then I’ll serve myself.

After Bill had served himself he sat across the fire from her and began to eat.

How is it he asked.

Wonderful! This is better than a gourmet meal. You’re a good cook.

Well, it’s cold and you’re hungry. But I’ll take that as a compliment.

The two of them sat across the fire from each other eating without speaking. Strangers brought together to share this meal by circumstances they were not yet comfortable with each other’s presence.

After he had eaten Bill said:

I’m going to have a second helping. There’s plenty left. Would you like some more?

No, thank you. That was a very generous serving you gave me. I really meant it when I said that it was delicious and not just because I was hungry.

It was basically out of a can although I did add my own seasoning. Here, give me your plate. I’ll wash them when we’re finished with coffee. Let me know when you’re ready for more.

Thank you, I will. I wonder if it’s going to be very cold tonight. She asked.

"Probably in the low thirties I would imagine. It got down to thirty two last night but there was a cloud cover. The skies have cleared up so thermal radiation will probably drop the temperature several more degrees.

Say, that light jacket you have on isn’t much against the night. I’ll get you a heavier one out of the truck.

She waited until he returned with a fleece lined denim jacket. Standing up, he helped her put it on. It felt good. The warmth of the jacket brought her a contentment and comfort that was intensified by the cold, dark night. He had donned a hooded sweatshirt underneath a fleece lined vest. Facing him she looked into his brown eyes.

So, Mr. Bill Castillo, how is it that you come to this remote part of Arizona to comfort me in the night? You said you would tell me over coffee.

As she sat down, she told him:

Bring your chair here next to mine. That way our backs will be to the wind. Besides, I feel better sitting next to you, the only other human being for miles around as far as I know.

Bill did as she said, refilling their cups with coffee. He positioned his chair next to hers, but at an angle that would permit him to look at her and sat down.

I don’t mean to be intrusive, she said, but I would like to hear about you. When I saw you in Old Oraibi talking to Mr. Koyawena I had a feeling that we would meet again. I want to know as much about you as you want to tell me.

Well, there’s not a whole lot. I recently retired from the Navy and thought I’d take an opportunity to do a little fly fishing in the White Mountains before I settle down with a job. The reason I came to Old Oraibi is a promise I made back in 1972.

He fell silent for several minutes, staring into the fire. She didn’t interrupt his thoughts.

"A very good friend of mine, a Hopi, was killed during an engagement in Viet Nam. We had only days left on our tour, my first of two, before we were scheduled to return to the States. For that reason the Navy assigned me to accompany his body home to a village called Second Mesa here on the Hopi Reservation. I was only twenty one at the time, the same age as Walter. I met the entire family. Mr. Koyawena was Walter’s grandfather, his father’s father. Although the other members of the family were very interested in how Walter died they did not speak of it. It was the grandfather who took me aside and asked me the details. He was very sad but proud to learn that Walter had been awarded a medal for his part in the action that cost him his life.

I was assigned to a unit of the Navy’s Riverine Patrol Force, or what was called the Brown Water Navy". After boot camp I had completed Radioman Class ‘A’ School then spent a year on board a Destroyer that made a West Pac tour. During that tour the ship received a message requesting volunteers for replacements for casualties suffered by several Swift Boat crews.

"Radiomen are not normally detailed as crewmembers but there was a shortage and I had a secondary NEC, or Navy job code, which included radar training.

I volunteered and after a six week training course while assigned to the LST, which also served as a Mother Ship for the boats, I was assigned to the crew of a boat. During an interdiction mission with part of a SEAL team aboard our boat, a Marine bomber, a Skyhawk, had been shot down in our OP, or Area of Operations. His wingman reported a good parachute but he had gone down in a heavily forested area in enemy territory. Our Seal Team was directed into the area to retrieve the aviator and to provide covering fire for the MedEvac helicopter. We were successful but as the chopper landed to extract the wounded aviator we were engaged in a fire fight by a unit of the North Vietnamese Army. Walter covered us as we withdrew, the Skipper backing down into the river with our SEALs aboard keeping our 50 caliber pointed towards the North Vietnamese on the shore. His position was on the bow with the 50. In the process he was killed instantly by automatic fire. We managed to successfully withdraw, taking more fire from the shore which caused several more casualties.

Did you get the pilot? She asked.

Yes.

Although he appeared to have more to say, he fell silent.

So you’re recently retired? You look very young to be retired.

I entered the Navy when I was seventeen, with my mother’s permission. I put twenty years in. I’ll be thirty eight years old at the end of November, in about three weeks.

Well, then, no wonder you look so young. You are!

He laughed, looking at her.

You look much younger than I, but I won’t ask. I’ve always heard you shouldn’t ask a woman her age.

It doesn’t bother me. I’m forty six years old. I’ll be forty seven next May. So there. She smiled, responding to the kindness in his eyes.

You’re a beautiful woman. He replied, sincerely and without reservation.

She blushed and quickly asked:

You were going to tell me about Mr. Koyawena.

Well, after the funeral I spent three days in the village. I have never been so kindly received and warmly treated. As I was getting ready to leave Mr. Koyawena gave me a small Katchina. Are you familiar with those?

Oh, yes.

He said to keep it with me especially during times of danger. But he also told me that it was my duty to bring the Katchina home when I retired from the Navy. Today I returned it to him. It felt like I had brought a spiritual entity back to its home. I was telling Mr. Koyawena goodbye when you asked to speak to him. What was it you wanted to tell him?

I also was telling him goodbye. And thank him. I had spoken with him earlier about his village. He knew that I was troubled. He told me that I would find relief soon. I wasn’t much interested in the photo sessions so he gave me a tour of the village and told me about its history. I wanted to thank him before I left. I knew you wouldn’t mind if I interrupted you.

Of course not; I’m glad you did.

So, now that you’re retired what are you going to do?

I guess I’ll look for a place to live in Tucson then see about getting a job. I was fortunate to complete all but two semesters for my degree while in the Navy. I would like to finish my degree at the university.

What was your major? She asked.

It was Electrical Engineering. I received quite a bit of credit for many of the technical Navy courses I took in radio and electronics. I attended Electronics Technician ‘A’ School as one of my reenlistment incentives. I didn’t change my rating though because there are not too many ETs in the Special Boat Units.

What did you retire as? Do you have to work?

My rank was Chief Petty Officer. And yes, I’ll have to work. The Navy figures I’m still young enough for another career so they figure my retirement is adequate. However, I don’t want to have to live on it alone.

Well, if you’re looking for a job I may be able to offer you one. I own several businesses in Tucson. Would you be interested?

Thank you, Cecilia. I may just take you up on that. But now that I’ve told you about myself, please tell me about yourself. The same rules apply. Tell me only what you’re comfortable telling me.

Cecilia looked from Bill out into the black night. Looking at the fire flickering in the surrounding blackness an ancient emotion stirred deep within her. In one way she felt vulnerable, alone with a stranger in this remote part of Arizona. Yet, in another way she felt safe with him. He certainly seemed kind and gentle although she knew enough about the military to know that he was a hardened warrior. Yet, there was something in his demeanor, in his smile and in his eyes, that set her at ease and let her put her trust in him, something she rarely did with a man. There was also another aspect of her being that dominated her thoughts—her intuition. Her intuition was something she had always trusted and her intuition told her to place her trust in this man. Cecilia had many acquaintances but few friends; and among her friends, few confidants. It would be nice to talk to someone about what she felt, about a burden that she constantly carried with her. He was a stranger. Perhaps, they would never meet again after tonight. No, she felt they would be together again. He had said he would consider her offer to work for her. He was young, strong. He had a confidence about him; a self control that she knew would serve to protect her from the night.

Turning her gaze from the fire she looked at Bill. He had been watching her, waiting for her to speak, not wanting to interrupt her thoughts. She returned his smile.

Are you sure you want to hear about me? She asked. You really don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for.

Whatever you want to tell me, as much or as little. he answered. Yes, I would like to learn about you.

They both sat silently staring at the diminishing fire for several minutes. Cecilia looked up at the heavens resplendent with stars across the vast and black Arizona sky.

I have never seen so many stars! She said. They’re beautiful. To think that each one of those points of light is a sun, like ours, makes me feel small and insignificant. Sometimes I wonder how, and, more importantly, why, I’m here at all.

I can certainly understand that. Bill replied. "I’ve often stood on deck of a ship at sea and looked into the night sky. Out in the middle of the Pacific there are no lights to compete with the stars. It makes you wonder just exactly how you fit into the grand scheme.

I would spend many hours in conversation with Walter. He was such a gentle man. But he was extremely competent as a warrior. I guess it’s a legacy of his past. I have come to learn something of the Hopi through Walter and then through Mr. Koyawena. He is as wise as any priest or minister I’ve ever known. In fact, I’m very impressed with the entire village. How do you feel about them?

They are a beautiful people, and Mr. Koyawena is a very wise and holy man. Cecilia answered.

I agree.

"Well, let me answer your question. Since we’re going to be spending the night together it will help to pass time more quickly by talking.

The two women you saw me talking to earlier were here to do some photography of models against the background of the village. Donna, the older one, is a high school friend of mine. She has been very successful in establishing her advertising agency and she was working on a year’s worth of advertisements for one of her best clients, ‘Tucson Horizons’, a very popular local Tucson magazine. Ever heard of it?

No. But then I haven’t been back to Tucson for some twenty years other than for a quick visit to my folks.

"Well, you will. You can’t go to a doctor’s or dentist’s office without seeing several issues. But, any way, Donna and her employee, Janine, who is also her friend, invited me to spend some time with them up here. They also did some work in Flagstaff before coming to Oraibi. In fact, there’s a big gala event at the local country club in Flagstaff tonight to honor Donna.

"I took them up on their offer because I felt like I needed to get away from Tucson for awhile for several reasons including one very important one. Bill, this month would have been the twenty-eighth birthday of my son. He died before he was a year old. It’s something I’ve managed to live with but it has always affected me deeply. I have been very depressed this year. Depression is no stranger to me and if I don’t deal with it can make life miserable.

"So, I thought it would be good to get away for a few days. What clinched my decision was the visit to Old Oraibi. I have been interested in spirituality for many years and I’ve read about the Hopi. I know a little about their beliefs. That’s why when you mentioned the Katchina that Mr. Koyawena gave you I could understand the importance of your visit to return it.

"This trip has been very good for me, although it has Donna and Janine worried about me. Instead of becoming involved with the work and the social activities I’ve spent the time here just reflecting on my life and learning as much as I could about the spiritual beliefs of the Hopi.

Bill, I hope I’m not boring you with this talk of spiritual matters. If I am, just say so.

No. One of my lifelong interests, at least since I’ve joined the Navy, has been psychology. In fact, one of the reasons for returning to school is not only to get my degree but to take as much psychology as I can. I’ve learned a lot about myself while in the service but I know that there is much more to learn. It seems to me that a man, or woman, can tap into this part of the universe that better educated people than me have described as the universal spirit. Believe me, I am aware of it, whether in the mountains fishing, or at sea, or in the jungles of Viet Nam, where I felt it most.

"Bill, I have a very good friend in Tucson. He holds a doctorate in psychology and has been my mentor. It’s funny that you are interested in psychology because I also have taken enough courses in it to almost qualify for a degree. I just may do it. Juan Santos is his name. He is also a local Arizona boy who served in Viet Nam. He was a Marine. He is a very interesting man and one who I think you would like. I’ll introduce him to you in Tucson.

"But getting back to my story; you may not understand the deep bond that a woman has for her unborn child; especially if that child is conceived in love. Then, after it’s born, as a mother, you are forever a part of it. When your child dies it leaves an enduring mark on that part of you which most people say is your soul. I’ve had encounters with depression before, once it almost cost me my life, so I knew that I had to do something to get away for awhile.

"Bill, as you can tell from those little wrinkles around the corner of my eyes I’ve been around for a few years. I have been very lucky in business and own several successful ones in Tucson. I started out as an emigrant from Mexico. I was born in San Blas, which is a small village, or pueblo, in the state of Sinaloa. My parents were talked into coming here by my aunt Lupe, my father’s sister, who still lives with me.

"Aunt Lupe was a domestic servant of a wealthy Tucson family. She had come to Arizona to work to save enough money to get married. Her family didn’t have any money for a dowry and she felt she had a better chance of marrying well if she had something to offer her prospective husband. Poor Lupe! As it turned out, she never married.

"To make a long story short, my parents moved to Tucson and lived with my aunt. My dad managed to learn welding and was doing pretty good. I was enrolled in school and learned English quickly as most young kids do. My mother was always homesick, though, so when her mother, my grandmother, became ill, she talked my father into going home for a visit. Because I was in school they decided to leave me with my aunt. Neither one of my parents had more than an eighth grade education but they were super insistent that I get as much as possible. On their return trip they were killed in an accident on the old Nogales highway, hit head on by a drunk, something that was not all that uncommon in those days.

So, my aunt Lupe was stuck raising me. In order for her to afford to raise me she gave in to her employer’s wish to live in the house where she worked. Bill, are you familiar with the foothills area of Tucson?

Yes. It’s a pretty exclusive area from what I remember. There were not that many homes there when I was growing up but I hear it’s been extensively developed now.

You’re right. In those days only the very wealthy or pioneer homesteaders lived in the area. My aunt worked for a family who was very wealthy, the Franklins. The husband was John Percival Franklin who owned a very successful office equipment distributorship. His wife’s name was Dorothy. My aunt worked for Dorothy, initially as a day maid, but eventually as a live in domestic doing everything from the cooking and cleaning to helping out with her entertaining. Dorothy was heavily involved in society being one of the prominent social matrons of the day. As a matter of fact the family had previously lived in ‘Snob Hollow’, the site of the original founders of modern day Tucson. It was once a very exclusive area and has been preserved as a historical site. It’s near the Tucson Museum of Art and City Hall.

I know where it is. When I was in elementary school several of my friends were members of the ‘Junior Assembly’ which used to hold functions at the Moose Lodge in that area.

"That’s right! Well, the Franklins probably realized that the area was beginning to decline so they bought a beautiful home in the foothills before that area became popular. When my parents were killed Lupe had no choice but to accept Dorothy’s offer to move in and live on her premises. They had a little cottage behind the main house which was the servant’s quarters. It was a one bedroom, but it had its own kitchen, bathroom and living room, so it was adequate for my aunt and me.

"Bill, I’m telling you this to give you some background. It was because I lived with my aunt in this very exclusive area that I grew up attending some very good public schools which gave me an advantage. I also ended up marrying the only child and son of the family, John Percival Franklin, Junior. Someday if you’re interested I’ll tell you all about that. But for now you just need to know enough to understand how I got to where I am.

"Dorothy always resented me. Initially, I suppose, because Aunt Lupe had to invest some time in raising me which detracted a little from her duties in the house. But after her son and I began dating, and later married, she was appalled. I’m not sure if it was because I was Mexican, or because I was the niece of her servant, or both. It didn’t help matters when Johnny quit college after his second year to marry me.

"Johnny’s dad was so different. He had always treated me kindly. When I was young he would give me a weekly ‘allowance’ without anyone knowing except, of course, Aunt Lupe. All through high school I worked in his office which not only kept me financially able to help my aunt but taught me some essential skills which have served me extremely well in life.

But when our baby was born, a little boy, things went very bad. He had suffered severe oxygen deprivation and as a result was never normal but required almost 24 hour a day care. To make matters worse, a month after he was born, Mr. Franklin suffered a fatal heart attack. Johnny was devastated by both events. He had disobeyed his mother’s wishes by dating me and marrying me. There was a lot of tension and arguments between him and her over me. I truly feel that Johnny believes that he is somehow responsible for his father’s death and for the death of our child only a few months after his father died.

Cecilia paused gently wiping a tear from her eye. Bill remained silent. After a few minutes she continued.

"After the baby’s funeral Johnny began to drink. That was all I could take. I divorced him. He moved in with his mother, finished the University of Arizona and Law school, and has done very well in life. He remarried, a high school friend whose husband was killed in Viet Nam. She had two boys, which Johnny adopted. They’re also doing very well.

"You will probably hear about John Percival Franklin, Junior. He is a successful financial advisor and planner. He was also appointed a state senator for one term as a favor to his political friends when a scandal caused the incumbent to resign; he is being seriously considered for governor. I have a good relationship with him, indeed, with the entire family. His wife, the former Jane Williams, and I also get along now. We didn’t like each other in high school but we both love the same man and she’s matured quite a bit since then.

"But, I have never been able to completely get over the loss of my beautiful son and sometimes I feel his loss more than other times. This anniversary of his birth is one of those times. I have already experienced a serious bout of depression which almost cost me my life so when this opportunity presented itself I took advantage of it.

I think I’m better now and am able to return to my life. Fortunately for me, it’s a busy one and keeps me very occupied. I mentioned earlier that I would like you to work for me. Are you interested in hearing more about it?

Yes. Would I be able to have any flexibility with my hours so I could attend school? He responded.

Absolutely! In fact, the woman who is in that position now, Betty Potter, has worked for me for almost five years. I hired her right after she arrived in Tucson. She didn’t even have a place to sleep and almost no money. Since she’s been working for me she completed her degree at the university and is about to receive a master’s degree in sociology. She’s leaving to pursue her first love, working with abused women and children, something she will be very good at. One day I’ll tell you more about her, probably before you start. She’s had a very difficult life being an abused wife herself.

What is it she does?

"She manages my shuttle office. One of my companies provides shuttle service between Tucson and Phoenix. Because Phoenix is so much larger and is served by more airlines people can usually get a ticket to where they’re going cheaper from there than from Tucson. So, it’s quite often more cost effective to take my shuttle to Phoenix and fly out of there. There’s no worry about parking either. I stumbled onto this quite some time ago when I was a student at the university. That is another story and I’ll tell you about it someday if you’re still interested. But that’s what you’ll be doing. You’ll be responsible not only for the schedules, making sure we’re in line with the airlines out of Phoenix, but also the dispatchers. They have to be trained and they have to be scheduled. We have several pick up points in Tucson besides our main office. I also have a courier business which delivers documents to and from Phoenix overnight. You’ll also manage that. Actually, I was doing that first. People found out about my courier runs and began asking for rides to Phoenix on those. I was very fortunate to be able to tap into a newly emerging market. I do have some competitors but nothing serious. Like any business if you provide a good service at a reasonable cost, you’ll do well.

And of course, all this wear and tear on my vehicles takes its toll, so you’ll be responsible for ensuring that maintenance is done on a timely basis, both preventive and unscheduled. You’ll work closely with one of my other employees, Steve Pfeiffer, the manager of my auto repair business.

I’m impressed, Cecilia. Bill laughed as he spoke. How many businesses do you have?

Think about it, Bill. She smiled back as she answered. "Initially, just repairing my vans as they broke down was killing me. At first, I had contracted to a company for maintenance, but even with a discount this was eating into my profits big time. I was very fortunate. Steve Pfeiffer was one of my drivers. He had moved to Tucson from Philadelphia where he had been a certified auto mechanic. When a family owned auto repair shop came up for sale after the owner died he convinced me that I could make a go of it, not only maintaining my vehicles, but servicing the public as well. The shop was well equipped. The widow had no desire to do anything with it but sell and move back east to be with her grandchildren. It was Betty Potter who came up with the idea of catering to single women in the auto repair shop. Her idea was literally a stroke of genius. By going out of our way to ensure that single women could depend on me for honest, reliable, guaranteed service, I tapped into another almost ignored market in Tucson. We’ve been so successful that we’ve recently gone to a twenty four hour operation. In by five, out by seven the next morning! Of course, I take the ladies, or men customers, home with my own vans. The word is out that a single woman won’t get ripped off if she brings her car to my garage for work. I owe quite a lot to Steve and Betty for helping me out on this one.

I’m sure your Navy background will make you a good manager. Please think about it. We have plenty of time before Betty gets her degree and leaves. She’ll graduate next spring. The job is yours then if you want it.

Thank you. I’ll certainly keep it in mind. Let me get settled in a place to live and see what school looks like. I’ll certainly get back to you as soon as I can.

Great! Listen, I’ve never been camping before. What does one do when nature calls?

Bill threw his head back and laughed.

Of course! How could I have forgotten! Let me get my shovel out of the truck and I’ll dig a hole over there behind that rock. It’s close enough to camp to be safe, but far enough away to ensure privacy. I’ll also grab a roll of paper.

She smiled as she watched him complete the job. Had she bored him? No! He appeared fascinated with what she had been telling him. She could feel her sadness beginning to lift. His presence brought her comfort and made her feel safe. He was an attractive man, not big in stature but with a silent strength that she knew ran deep. Every time she had been attracted to a man she had forced something inside her to deny the feeling. This time she did not attempt to do so.

He returned to her.

Everything is ready. Here’s a lantern to take with you. I made sure nothing was lurking about so you’re quite safe. I’ll place these baby wipes next to your chair so you can freshen up.

Thank you. She replied as she took the lantern and walked towards the rock.

When she returned he asked:

Would you like another cup of coffee or do you want to turn in? It’s almost three o’clock.

Oh, my goodness; have I been running my mouth that long? You must be tired. Go ahead and turn in. I just want to sit by the fire a little longer. I see you’ve added more wood. This is a new experience for me and I want it to last as long as possible.

Well, then I’ll pour myself a cup as well and sit here with you. I’ve been mostly alone for the past two weeks and sharing this night with you has been a very satisfying experience.

They sat together sipping coffee without speaking for several minutes. There was really no need to speak. They enjoyed the presence of each other, together miles away from civilization with only the fire to share.

Finally, as if to wrap up her story, Cecilia said:

I have my own home in the foothills now, one that I purchased about five years ago. My aunt Lupe lives with me. We have our own maid, a woman also from Sinaloa. I don’t have any servant’s quarters. She lives and eats with us.

After speaking she looked at Bill as if waiting for a response. He didn’t look directly at her but gazed into the fire.

"Last year, when I turned forty five, I became very aware of my mortality. I have accomplished a lot. I have achieved a very comfortable standard of living. But something is missing. I want to find it, if indeed it is possible to find it, before I pass from this earth. My friends have noticed this change in me. Some think it is merely menopause, but my close friends, like Betty and Donna and Janine, know better. They worry about me but it’s something I must do alone.

Do you understand?

She looked to him for an answer.

Yes. I understand.

He didn’t speak. He knew that she would want to remain silent after disclosing so much of her personal life to him, a stranger. He thought that this experience here in this remote corner of Arizona sitting next to a campfire in the early morning hours was probably the first she had ever encountered. It was a perfect and fitting close to her pilgrimage here to the land of the Hopi, a spiritual, beautiful and strong people who were at peace with themselves and the world.

They sat together silently without moving other than to glance at each other and briefly exchange smiles for a length of time measured in hours. There was no need to add fuel to the fire, it burned vigorously as it diminished in size, its flame being fanned by the gentle north wind in a dance that had been witnessed for millennia by their ancestors on this space borne planet.

They were two strangers brought together by circumstance to share the warmth and comfort of a primeval fire and each other’s company. Never before had each so strongly felt the presence of the spiritual aspect of their being in this vast, remote and primitive land, cast into the darkness beyond the pale light of civilization caused by the bright glare of the cities.

They sat together, silently, through the remaining hours of darkness, through the dim light that softly suffused through the land prior to dawn. Together they silently observed the first crimson rays of the dawn heralding the emerging sun to the east beyond the massive pillars of stone and mountains that had stood like sentinels for centuries. During the night high, thin cirrus clouds had moved down from the frozen lands to the north to cover the skies over Arizona. It was these sculptured formations of ice and water that first felt the kiss of the sun reflecting spectacular hues of gold, vermillion, and crimson into a silent symphony of magnificent testimony to nature, an awesome display of beauty and harmony worthy of the gods, Katchinas, and people who were fortunate to witness it.

The sun was above the horizon but hidden from view by the mountains when he spoke:

Why don’t I break camp and we get started for Flagstaff? It won’t take but a few minutes. We’ll be back before noon and have you on your way in twenty minutes.

She reacted almost as if startled. She had been in deep thought witnessing the coming of the dawn. The few quiet hours she had spent before the fire in the darkness and watching the sun rise above the horizon had a calming effect on her. This experience had been as a catalyst, clarifying her thoughts and putting her again in touch with her spiritual side.

Looking at him she smiled as she replied:

Yes. I’ll help. Listen, I really do appreciate your helping me like this and for listening to me during the night. This night has been like a catharsis to me releasing some emotions that I’ve had tied up inside.

He only smiled at her not quite sure what to say in reply.

She continued:

Bill, you’re a nice guy. I hope we become friends. Remember what I said about coming to work for me. It would be a super job for you while you complete your degree. You don’t have to answer now; I’ll give you my card and home phone number. It’s unpublished but I want you to have it. Any time you want to talk to me please call.

You’ve got a deal. Thank you. Come on, you can use the lady’s room if you need while I put out the fire and pack everything up.

Ok, she replied, but there is one more item I would like to discuss with you and, if you’re interested, make you another offer. I’ll wait until later, maybe in Flagstaff to bring it up.

You bet! He said.

In twenty minutes they were on their way on the blacktop highway. They sat together without speaking as he drove and she looked out the window at the immense expanse of land that stretched out in all directions around them. The droning of the Ford’s powerful engine accompanied by the sound of the all terrain tires on the pavement acted like a soothing lullaby to her. She became drowsy, then, not attempting to fight the blanket of sleep approaching, drifted off into slumber.

Bill Castillo smiled as he looked at her. He felt an urge to cover her with a blanket, to put a pillow under her head, and then caught himself as he realized that the cab of the truck was warm and she was sleeping comfortably, her head resting gently on the seat cushion. He was slightly startled at this protective instinct that had suddenly welled up in him. He had not experienced anything similar in many years. He looked ahead of them. There were no other cars on the highway either in front or behind. In fact, no other vehicles had been on the highway since he had stopped to help Cecilia yesterday evening. He glanced at the engine instruments. The big Ford was humming like the well engineered and maintained machine it was. Again, he looked at her, sleeping soundly, tired from their all night vigil. For him it was not a new experience remaining awake through the night. Sharing it with her was.

Because everything was in order and she was asleep, he dared to let his memory take him back to the last time he had felt this instinctive feeling of protecting a woman. His thoughts drifted back across the years to the other side of the world; back through the years of his life until he was once again a youth, young in years but aged beyond those years by the combat he had experienced in Viet Nam. Through the mist of his memory he once again saw the white hull of the Navy hospital ship looming in his mind as he first saw it then through the lifting fog and mist from the MedEvac helicopter that he was in. He had been superficially wounded in a fire fight and had been evacuated with two other crewmen on his boat, both critically wounded; one, it would turn out, fatally. He had made it his mission to look out for his two companions, closer than friends, closer than brothers, closer than any other human being he had ever been with. He deeply felt the bond with these men who had shared danger with him, relying on each other for survival. Other friends had died. He had lived. Again he had been fortunate. He would ensure that the two wounded men would get everything they needed. That was his mission.

He had first seen her in the triage station; a Navy nurse. He read her name tag on her loosely fitting green surgical uniform: Lieutenant Junior Grade Fulton printed in black letters on her name tag. She was efficient, determined, totally in control. He had observed her working with his two companions assisting the triage surgeon. There were two more MedEvac birds inbound to the ship. She didn’t have much time to spend with him when he asked what was next for his two friends.

Carlson is headed for trauma. His wounds are internal and he’s hemorrhaging. Ronal Wilson is also scheduled for surgery. I believe we can save his leg.

Thank you, ma’am. He replied, grateful for this little piece of information.

What’s your name and how are you? She asked.

It was then that he noticed her eyes, weary and aged beyond the twenty three years she had been on earth. They were like a mirror to her soul and he knew instantly the burden of grief and sorrow that was within her.

He was taken by surprise as those eyes narrowed showing him a facade of military efficiency.

Did you hear me, sailor? She snapped. We’ve got two Jollies inbound with several critically wounded. I don’t have time to waste.

I’m sorry. I’m Radioman Second Class Castillo. Bill Castillo. I’m with Detachment Bravo of Riverine Patrol Squadron Two. I know you’re busy.

Her eyes softened again as she spoke.

Welcome aboard, sailor. Listen; meet me on the mess decks at fifteen hundred. You can buy me a cup of coffee and I’ll let you know how your friends are doing.

Bill couldn’t help himself. This woman, this soft, warm, human being, had spoken the first words of kindness that he had heard in months. He was totally unprepared for this experience, having prepared himself for surviving combat by withdrawing his emotions deep within. Tears welled up in his eyes. He tried to speak, to thank her, but he couldn’t. He felt himself trembling, his hands shaking, his throat constricted with a stifled sob.

Once again he saw her eyes change, this time showing a deep compassion and caring. He knew that he would carry what he had seen in those eyes to his grave.

Corpsman! She called to a sailor working in the compartment.

Yes ma’am? The second class petty officer replied as he approached them.

Take this sailor to the dressing station. Then see that he gets a shower and fresh clothes.

Aye, aye, Lieutenant. He replied. What’s your name?

Bill.

I’m also Bill. Come on, follow me.

Thank you. He told her as they parted.

She smiled as the voice boomed over the 1MC, the ship’s public address system:

Stand by to receive the Jolly on Fly One! Jolly two overhead in two minutes. Land Jolly two on Fly Two.

See you at fifteen hundred. She