He had seen cholera in the Comancheria. Defeat and hunger wrought nearly the same upon these red men, but their return to these rocks and mountains of their grandfathers brought some relief to the Navajo, and with the war in the east, some lifting of the white man's boot.

Maddo had treated many of them, learning much. Now the old ones got no worse, and the young ones sometimes laughed. Maddo smiled as he relit his cigar. The young ones laughed most when they threw rocks at the soldiers.

Dawn was clear and crisp in this early spring, the fine greening mountain forest climbing the slopes of the great mesa to the north. This horse Joshua was a good horse--too good for cavalry--and Maddo enjoyed the canter down to the compound very much. The compound where he saw the few Dine tribesmen who deigned come to him, mostly women and their children, was very near the most extraordinary formation of the earth Maddo had ever seen, a mighty wall of rock with a great circular window, through which you could see the sky.

Maddo settled at his treating table, outdoors a few steps away from the sutler's store where the agent also made his office. From here you could gaze upon and through the great rock window and judge the color of the sky and the movement of the clouds. A magnificent ocular, Maddo mused, but of telescope or microscope?

This morning the women and children stood aside for a Navajo man Maddo had not seen before. The Navajo man had been watching Maddo's gaze for some time.

"Aro de Cielo," the Navajo man said, "esto se une."

His Navajo form shone brightly in the morning sun. His faded red tunic was secured at the waist by a belt of polished silver conchos, a handsomely beaded scabbard sheathing a large antler-handled knife on his right hip, a more finely beaded medicine pouch tucked at his left, and his wrists were adorned by bracelets of braided thick silver wire. He was not a young man and his wizened face was as complex as the desert landscape, his eyes alert as an eagle's, yet quiet, and his lips drawn by anxiety.

"Que puede yo hacer por usted, señor?" Maddo instinctively stood to greet this impressive Indian.

"El curandero blanco," the Navajo man touched his heart with his right hand, then smoothly gestured away from his chest toward the northwest, suggesting some distance, "por favor monte a caballo conmigo!"

Maddo glanced over the few others waiting about. None looked more forlorn than usual.

"Montaremos a caballo," Maddo nodded, shouldering his medical kit.

They rode west into the broken hills. The Navajo man set a quick pace which Maddo matched at the trot, delighted to have the time on horseback and the challenging landscape rising to greet them. The sun was overhead, near and warm, when the riders left their path along a ridge to enter an arroyo and descended to the small creek within, following the stream until they came upon a wooded pond, then they emerged suddenly into a sweetly fragrant meadow. Many horses grazed about on the already rich green grass. Here there was a large hogan, its primitive chimney issuing a light thread of smoke, and several outbuildings variously constructed of mud and thatched framework, the latter surrounded by thick patches of wildflowers.

The Navajo man hastily dismounted at the large hogan. A young boy appeared to take his horse.

The Navajo man nodded to the boy to take Maddo's horse. The boy knew of white men and their deeds among his people, and was afraid to approach as Maddo dismounted and untied his kit. Maddo let his reins drop and followed the Navajo man inside the large hogan. Behind him the boy took Maddo's horse.

A young woman draped by a blanket stood with both hands grasping the center pole of the spacious room, attended by a very old woman. The very old woman held her right hand to the young woman's upper abdomen under the blanket. The very old woman's left hand was massaging the young woman's lower back.

"Jesus Christ!" Maddo's heart froze. For a long moment that terrible day in Galveston overwhelmed his spirit.

Maddo unlocked his body from his soul.

Peering through the aboriginal stoicism Maddo saw that the young woman was in distress. The old woman who was a midwife, chanting under her breath as she skillfully kneaded the mother in labor, clearly knew what she was doing but something was wrong.

"Debo tocarla," Maddo said to the Navajo man.

"Así le traigo aquí, el curandero blanco," the Navajo man replied in a low even tone, not taking his eyes from the young woman as he stood against the wall.

Rather than move her from her traditional posture for American aboriginal labor or greatly disturb the old woman on her right who seemed to ignore him, Maddo kneeled between the young woman on her left and the center pole. It was necessary to turn back the blanket. The old woman's chanting grew slightly more audible, but oddly soothing.

There was a light show of blood on the inside of the young woman's thigh. With his left palm and open fingers Maddo gently probed the lower pelvic area and then upward. The fetal head was quite low and the larger body parts were high. Maddo believed the birth presentation to be correct. The young woman's occasional muscular contractions were not overly vigorous and she made not a sound, but her drawn face indicated great discomfort. Maddo visually examined the source of the trickle of blood. Perhaps dilation had not yet begun in earnest. Maddo tested lightly with his fore and index fingers, which became moistened. He touched the fluid to his tongue and tasted the acidic. The water had not burst, but the young woman appeared ready to begin true labor.

"Haré que tiene razón," Maddo told the Navajo man.

The Navajo man said nothing and did not move.

Again using his fore and index fingers, Maddo sought the presence of the birth membrane. It was intact, low in the birth canal.

Maddo peered up at the young woman's drawn face. She did not return his glance. She was young and strong and she wanted this thing to happen.

"Let us begin, Daniellie." Maddo said aloud, unconsciously, in English.

The first two fingers of his left hand were still in position on the membrane. With a sudden motion along the labia he ruptured it, instantly bringing the gush of amniotic fluid.

For the first time the young woman looked down. Not at Maddo, but at the wonder of the flow of birth water. Already her beautiful young face had relaxed. The old woman's chant changed tone, cheering the young woman and herself. The old woman knew what would come next, and renewed her kneading. Maddo permitted this as he gently dabbed some of the fluid from the young woman's legs with the edge of the blanket.

Somehow Maddo knew this was their world, not his.

Only a scant few minutes passed when the young woman moaned sharply. She lowered her stance against the center pole and braced herself. Drawing back the blanket, Maddo briefly examined her. Dilation was in progress and true labor had begun. Maddo stood and withdrew from the women.

"Será bueno ahora," Maddo said to the Navajo man. Maddo focussed on the room at last. There was a fire in the corner surrounded by cooking pots and such, but no furniture of the white man's kind. The accoutrements of war, aboriginal and white, and also many strange objects, hung on the walls. This was a man of some stature.

"Usted ha abierto la puerta, el curandero blanco," the Navajo man said, "ahora la vieja mujer sabe que sus trabajan bien."

The Navajo man stepped outside and Maddo followed him. They shared water from a gourd. The young boy squatted a few yards away, watching them intently. Maddo's horse was grazing happily near one of the patches of wildflowers. An afternoon breeze had come up.

"Cuál es su nombre?" Maddo asked the Navajo man.

"No tengo ningún nombre blanco," the Navajo man said. "Usted puede llamarme Halcón del Cielo."

Maddo produced a cigar and cut it in two. He offered one to the Navajo man, who accepted without deference.

"Es la mujer joven su esposa, Halcón del Cielo?" Maddo asked as he lit the Navajo man's cigaro, then his own.

"Ella es mi hija," the Navajo man said with enough sadness that Maddo did not ask more.

Before the cigars were spent a baby's small cry came from the large hogan.

Now the young woman reclined comfortably near the fire, covered by the blanket. The newborn was in her arms. There was no great smile for el curandero blanco, but she was happy. It was a boy. The old woman had matters well in hand.

"Comenzamos otra vez," said the Navajo man.

The boy brought Maddo his horse.

"Quizás habría sucedido eventual," Maddo took the reins and turned to the Navajo man before mounting. "Por qué usted me convocó?"

The Navajo man raised his hand to honor Maddo and bid him farewell.

"Porque es el blanco ahora sirvieron el mundo," the Navajo man said. "Usted será casero antes de que el sol fije."

Maddo returned the Navajo man's gesture and mounted his horse. The ride home, slower and more thoughtful, was as exhilarating as this morning's ride out. This was a good day to be alive.

The Navajo man was right. Maddo reached his quarters as the sun began to set. He chanced to gaze whence he had come.

To the west the crescent moon made a bow to watch over the young woman and her child.

Maddo sat cross-legged at the open fly of his tent with pencil in hand and opened his journal to write.

Soon the sunset cast fabulous golden beams across the page, and the land.