Payacita

By Jeanne Follett

Payacita is the epic story, fiction/nonfiction, based upon the life of a Navajo woman who was born in autumn 1888. The story opens with her age beginning at five years old and ends with her death at sixty-seven years old.

The story is based upon the testimonies of individuals who really knew her. Her life struggle is exemplified through the many years in which she lived with her family and her coexistence with the “white man.”

Her journey is one that drives her with the desire to survive and the will to persevere in who she was as an individual. As you will see in the story, her whole life was based upon the struggles in which she would be subjected to in all emotional aspects of life. She eventually achieves the status of becoming a respected businesswoman who had the foresight—learned from her grandmother—as to the value of transplanted apple seeds in order to grow an orchard.

She was renowned for her sense of humor and for the beautiful apples that her apple orchard produced. The Spanish villages established in the four-corner area, specifically New Mexico, depended on her visits to the trading posts. She was a woman who not only survived the changing of the old world’s transportation to the new world of the automobile but lived to see the dream of the blue butterfly who, since her birth, gave her the enlightenment to find hope and peace in a world often known for such cruelty against the Native American people.

Dedicated to all the Payacitas of the world!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646542949

Book preview

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Payacita

Jeanne Follett

Copyright © 2020 Jeanne Follett

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2020

ISBN 978-1-64654-293-2 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64952-378-5 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64654-294-9 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

The Journey Begins

The Fort

Soldiers

A New Day, A New Friend

The Apple Seeds

The Government Boarding Schools

The Long Walk

The Year of 1898

The Shinansani

The Harvest

Spirit World

Valley Fruit Wine

Ninleh Returns Home

Payacita and Jack

Jack

MaryJo

The Good Things

No Place like Home

The Last Chapter

Payacita

What can be seen from a brook to the trees

I stand where the brook can see me

Autumn breathes among the rustling leaves

Tradewinds speak to me

The valley of Payacita is the late full moon’s last quest

I will settle there and wait through winter’s zest

In the spring she will come and we’ll do our best

For in the spirit of living life there is no contest

Only what’s kept sacred in the heart

So that your eyes may see

I live in you

You live in me

The blue butterfly

Autumn, late 1888

Payacita

Jeanne Marie Martinez Follett

2004

Chapter One

The Journey Begins

Clank, clank, rumble, clank.

Payacita, sit down, her mother, looking back over her shoulders, spoke abruptly.

A few moments passed, and she went on to say, I don’t think this wagon was such a great deal after all. When we traded our sheep with Mr. Gibbs at the trading post, I didn’t bargain for the terrible dust that clouds our eyes and the sore bottoms we get after a long ride. It sure makes the day more tiring. I am sorry, my daughters!

Frustration was felt in her tone of voice. She turned the long driving reins over her knees to rest them.

Then looking straight ahead at the horse, she said, You see, he also grows tired easy. The horse stopped to rest. Perhaps the load is too much for him. He’s old. We might think about turning him out to run with the other horses up at Red Rock Canyon. He’d like that. He has been a hard worker and deserves to roam free with a herd. Come this fall we can trade blankets for a younger horse.

Payacita giggled. She knew her mother was tired from driving the wagon. She was glad to hear that the old horse was to be retired. She loved horses. It seemed that most animals had a place in her heart. In the old days, before they acquired the new world’s transportation, it would take days walking to reach the fort.

Oftentimes the goods they traveled there with would become damaged or spoiled. They would bring along perishables, sweet potatoes, or carrots and other vegetables removed from the earth after the last late winter’s storm. You see, living out in the nomadic land of their ancestors was difficult. It was hard to survive if you didn’t raise the sheep and at least try to grow a garden. In the good years, if the rains were plentiful, they could even grow corn, like the neighboring Zuni pueblo people. After all, it was important that the spring trading at the fort went well. That would assure the next winter’s survival.

Payacita sat down as her mother requested. Her sisters walked alongside, herding the sheep. They could see her bouncing from side to side in the wagon. They began to giggle. As she attempted to grab hold of the back of the wooden seat, the old horse began walking again, pulling the load they now would bring.

At that moment, Ninleh, the oldest sister, shouted out to her, saying, Baby sister, sing, sing one of your dream songs!

Yes, yes, everyone agreed with enthusiasm.

Please, Payacita, her mother asked, encouraging.

Not shy at all, the young girl of five years smiled and agreed.

But Mother—taking a deep breath—I must stand up so everyone can see me, she said with a hint of mischief in her voice.

All right then, but be careful not to fall out of the wagon, her mother replied reluctantly.

Payacita jumped to her feet. She made her way toward the goatskin flask of water that was hanging nearby. Grabbing it, she pulled the cork out and proceeded to take a big gulp.

It’s always good to clear your throat before you sing, she declared boldly. At that moment she turned herself toward the awaiting audience. You know, she said, stumbling over the pile of rugs protruding from underneath the seat where her mother sat, the raven at home does this every morning in the cliffs before she soars and sings! Payacita said this in an attempt to justify her theatrics!

As she stood there, facing her sisters, she looked out toward the towering red rocks. She saw the bountiful blue sky above them. The slight breeze of an early morning wind rippled her soft, velvet sleeves, colored in a deep maroon that complimented her thick, dark hair. She noticed the smell of desert sage filtering the air among them and suddenly, taking a deep breath, realized she didn’t know what dream song she would sing. Still thinking, she turned to her mother and, gently wrapping her arms around her neck, placed a tender kiss on her cheek as her mother continued to drive the wagon.

Then Payacita spoke up to say, What dream song shall I sing, Shamason? Shall I make something up? She then hesitated for a moment.

Or what, Payacita? her mother asked.

Should I sing of the blue butterfly dream? Payacita’s voice rose as she stood up. Then she let go of her arms wrapped around her mother’s neck.

Silence filled the air. The only sounds that could be heard were those of the old horse huffing and puffing as he walked along and the clanking of the wagon.

Payacita, waiting patiently—which by the way wasn’t one of her better traits, threw her arms up in the air—stating aloud, Well, well, interrupting her mother’s train of thought.

Then with a small chuckle, Shamason looked back for a brief moment at her daughter and said, Again, again, Payacita? Oh, you little clown! All right then. Go on and sing so that all of the canyons and the mountains may hear of your dreams. Only you have this same dream over and over again. Let your spirit speak!

Filled with joy and excitement, Payacita turned once again to her attentive sisters and immediately began to sing.

She bellowed out the notes of a dream song that was really a dream, but a little made up too. They all listened.

At one point, one of the sisters interrupted, saying, You and your long-winded imagination! You’re making up that dream! We’ve never heard this one before!

The sisters again all giggled because no matter what, the child was entertaining, to say the least, and they all welcomed that. It was a long ride to the fort. Listening to Payacita was fun and helped the time pass rather swiftly. For this they were all glad.

Soon all the noise quieted down, the wagon stopped clanking, the sisters’ tired feet stopped walking, and the mother announced, Straight ahead. I see the fort! Daughters, bring the sheep in closer to the wagon!

Soon they entered through the tall wooded gates.

You could hear the soldiers saying as they passed through, More Injuns bringing goods to trade.

This did not alarm them. It didn’t even offend them. Tired of the white men, they simply went there to trade.

Chapter Two

The Fort

Upon arriving at Mr. Gibbs’ general store, Mother announced sternly, Payacita, you can jump out now and stretch your legs. But don’t go and bother anyone if you can help it.

Shamason knew that her daughter could get into some kind of trouble if she wasn’t reminded to pay close attention to where she went and what she would do.

Eager to view the fort’s stores and people, Payacita hopped out of the back of the wagon, and passing by her sister Ninleh, she intentionally flipped her long, braided hair into the air.

Mother, Payacita just pulled my hair! exclaimed Ninleh.

Payacita, Payacita, Shamson turned around, and hanging the reins up alongside of the buckboard, she began to speak. But Payacita had already disappeared down the sidewalk of the old dirt street. Shamson mumbled to herself, I should just keep her with me while I trade. I’ll catch up to her later.

Finally hopping down, she wiped her brow with an old handkerchief that she kept in her pocket. Then she dusted off her long broom shirt and shoes. The other daughters could also be seen doing the same thing. After all, being at the fort meant for all of them the pleasure of visiting with others who were arriving there to bring pleasure to all of them. They could hardly contain their excitement.

The girls were given the task of corralling the sheep down into the holding pens at the end of the fort. Ninleh was directed to count out loud to the livestock trader the number of sheep that would pass into the area and to ask for a fair price for them. Then the girls were asked to return to the wagon where their mother was waiting. While they were there, they would help her unload the rest of the wagon for Mr. Gibbs.

Meanwhile, Payacita was seen running through the fort by several individuals. She ran by the telegraph office, stopping briefly to stick her head into the window, letting out a loud whistle, scaring the telegraph worker to death. She skipped past the infirmary, blowing kisses to the patients that she saw sitting outside on its raised platform deck. Then she found herself stopping to look back toward the gate’s entrance. There she had seen a small puppy staked out near its opening and wondered, wondered who it belonged to and why it had been left alone. She decided to walk over there for a short visit.

Payacita was like a small whirlwind. She moved so quickly through the fort at times it seemed her small feet could hardly keep up with her. This was partly because she was so excited, thinking of the puppy she was about to visit, and partly because she was just a young child, full of energy, inquisitive about the adventurous world that surrounded her.

You see, these were new times in an old world. Before Fort Wingate became a central trading