Keeto: The Secret of Hidden Valley

This book is dedicated to the memory of two young men– brothers whose time came too soon. They are Frank Edward and Roy Thomas Hendrickson.

I could not be prouder of the little boys I watched grow into men.

PREFACE

Keeto grew up valuing and respecting his culture. Grandfather knew he could be trusted with the sacred knowledge; the knowledge of the Mountain People. To the outside world, they were known as Sasquatch or Big Foot. To the members of Keeto’s village they were considered ancestors who had left the salt sea from days long ago.

Enjoy the journey with Keeto.

CHAPTER 1

Shhh… Grandfather motioned to Keeto, his fingers on his lips. Shhh…

A light breeze blew gently against their faces downwind from the riverbank, which Keeto and Grandfather were overlooking. Keeto had spent countless hours in the forest with Grandfather. He knew exactly what Grandfather meant; silence complete silence.

Running Elk, Keeto's Grandfather, whispered, Be patient, they will come.

Keeto was excited, for he understood Running Elk was referring to the Mountain People. Keeto knew that every year since Running Elk was a little boy, the Mountain People had come to the river. There they would catch salmon then disappear into the forest as silently as they had come.

Keeto and Grandfather waited patiently for the first glimpse of daybreak. Running Elk glanced proudly at his grandson who was no longer a little boy, but a young man. As they waited, Running Elk reminisced about the years past. He thought back to the first time Keeto’s father landed his floatplane in the Village. He was a young, powerful, tall, good-looking man with a kind sincere smile. The villagers called Keeto’s father Big Joe.

Big Joe was in the Village to continue his studies of First Nations history. In the course of Big Joe’s work, he was excavating an old village site; his chief helper was Running Elk’s daughter, Willow. Running Elk sighed, remembering the first time he noticed the glint of young love in the eyes of his daughter and Big Joe. This was a joyful, happy time and life held promise for all.

The days passed blissfully and soon the Villagers accepted Big Joe as part of the community. Eventually, Big Joe asked Running Elk for Willow’s hand in marriage. Running Elk and his wife Standing Bird were not expecting a marriage proposal this quickly; however, there was no mistaking the love Willow and Big Joe felt towards each other. The parents could not imagine standing in the way of their daughter’s happiness; besides Big Joe enthusiastically displayed his love and respect for their daughter, their family and their culture. They promptly gave their blessing to the proposed marriage. Running Elk could not remember a time when he had seen his daughter so happy. He felt pleased with the decision made on behalf of his daughter’s future. Big Joe would make a fine husband and father.

A marriage ceremony and feast was planned, involving the entire village. Standing Bird, and several ladies of the community, began work at once on a beautiful buckskin dress for Willow. During the ceremony, Running Elk and Standing Bird were delighted, as their daughter’s happiness was evident. She shone with love, beauty and happiness. She wore with pride the beautiful dress her mother and the ladies had made. Beside Willow, Big Joe beamed with the look of a man completely in love. Running Elk fondly remembered this day of happiness, with Big Joe in a rented tuxedo, and his precious daughter beside him. He remembered the festivities lasting well into the night with everyone dancing, feasting and celebrating the happy marriage of his daughter.

A year later, the Village welcomed the birth of his grandson Keeto. Unfortunately, change was upon them. Big Joe’s work had finished and the family would leave for the city, where Big Joe worked at the University as a Professor of Archeology. It was a sad day in the Village when the family boarded the floatplane. His wife took the move the hardest and was almost inconsolable until Big Joe assured Standing Bird, and the rest of the family, they would return every summer.

True to his word, Big Joe, Willow and Keeto arrived next summer. Those were happy days. Running Elk remembered, with fondness, how Willow and Big Joe loved Keeto. His wife was happiest when the family came to visit. She never got enough of playing with Keeto. On one summer trip back to the Village, a new bundle of joy arrived, a baby girl named Marge. The birth of a daughter was received with great joy and celebration. In the Village, a feast was planned; the custom being to give baby Marge an Indian name. After much feasting, dancing, and rejoicing the name Shennoa, meaning Little White Dove, was chosen. Tears came to his eyes remembering that moment of happiness.

During the summer visits, Keeto and his grandfather were inseparable. Running Elk taught Keeto the traditional ways he had learned from his Father and Grandfather. Over the next few summers, Keeto’s skill became apparent. He practiced and practiced, never seeming to tire of Grandfather’s lessons. Like all young children, Keeto was full of questions. One day he asked Running Elk why his and Grandmother’s names were different from other names in the Village. Running Elk explained to Keeto how Grandmother’s father and his father had journeyed across the mountains to the Great Plains. There they had stayed for some time and out of respect for their plains cousins, each had named their first-born children after the Plains People.

When Keeto was in his twelfth year, the family was set to travel, in Big Joe’s floatplane, to a dig site located 100 miles inland. Keeto pleaded his case as to why he should spend the summer in the Village with his grandparents. Big Joe and Willow lovingly agreed. They knew how beneficial a summer in the Village would be to Keeto.

Big Joe, Willow and Shennoa boarded the plane, with enough supplies for themselves and six other archeologists to last the summer. Running Elk remembered Keeto, along with most of the Villagers waving at the disappearing plane. He could still hear the final roar of the plane engine, which seemed to work extra hard, as it lifted off the water. Big Joe was to let the family know of their safe arrival by radioing Mr. Burns at the nearby trading post.

Running Elk was deep in thought when he faintly heard Keeto.

Psst, Grandfather, Keeto whispered, gently waking Running Elk. They're here, Keeto said his voice barely above a whisper.

Running Elk admired Keeto’s acuteness; his eyes were sharp. The Mountain People stood maybe twenty feet from the riverbank, barely visible through the light mist of first dawn. They watched as one Mountain man went directly to the river observing the water and checking the surroundings. The Mountain man motioned the others in his party to join him. What a sight, Keeto thought to himself, six Mountain People every one as large as, or larger than his own six foot six inch frame.

They stood at the river’s edge, two men with bundles in their arms, while another waded into the river. The man in the water pulled what appeared to be bundles of cedar bark netting. Keeto paid careful attention. He was amazed at the cleverness of the netting. He noticed wooden floats attached atop of the net about every five feet or so, and rocks attached to the net’s bottom. Brilliant, he thought, simply brilliant. When the man reached the center of the river, he began wading upstream folding the net into a large U-shape. Keeto watched enthralled, as three others further upstream started throwing rocks into the water. The salmon, excited by the disturbance in the water, became trapped inside the netting. The Mountain man waded slowly towards the riverbank, pulling the net with the trapped salmon along with him.

What happened next was beyond anything Keeto had ever imagined. His mouth hung open as he watched the three other men with wooden pronged spears, jump into the net and begin pitching salmon onto the riverbank. They tossed a hundred or so onto the bank before pulling in the net. The men began to clean the fish with what appeared to be flint or stone ulus. They finished quickly, burying the innards under the nearby trees. The Mountain men waited a short time and then repeated the process. Keeto stared, mouth agape as they loaded the fish into woven cedar sacks, hoisted the heavy loads onto their shoulders and disappeared quietly.

CHAPTER 2

Grandfather turned to Keeto, placing his hands on his shoulders in a firm, but gentle grip.

Keeto, he said, What you’ve witnessed must not be spoken of. Keeto could not remember seeing Grandfather so serious. Grandfather repeated, "You must never speak of what you have witnessed.

Keeto sensed the responsibility that came with Grandfather’s statement. Although he had no intention of telling, Keeto could not help but ask, Why?

Running Elk motioned for him to sit. Let me explain.

This land has belonged to our ancestors for countless generations, untouched from the destruction of development. Here we can live, our culture and people strong. That is not the same for many nations. If word got out that the Mountain People, or as some people call them¬ (Sasquatch), were found, hundreds would flock to our lands. The Mountain People would be hunted; all would be disturbed, the balance disrupted. Keeto, what we have witnessed is a privilege, and with privilege comes great responsibility.….

Keeto listened intently as Grandfather continued. "Our People have been living side by side with the Mountain People, generation after generation. Many of our people believe the Mountain People are remnants from our nation of long ago, for hundreds of years Keeto, a fierce warrior tribe from the north raided villages up and down the coast. This warring tribe travelled the water, including our inland waterways; none were safe. The tribe, using large war canoes, travelled far and wide raiding, pillaging and taking people as slaves. Some of our people left to the mountains never coming back; we believe they are the ancestors of the Mountain People.

Keeto, when I was a young boy, my Grandfather showed me exactly what we witnessed today...he sat me down and told me what I am telling you now. Keeto, the Mountain People are not savages, they are intelligent. You have witnessed their skill and heard them speak a language. Their language is somewhat similar to our dialect. My Grandfather told me that on one occasion he managed to exchange some words with one of them. I believe they speak our language of old. Keeto, over the years you have worked diligently, becoming fluent in our native dialect. For that, Standing Bird and I are proud of you. I'm telling you this Keeto, for if you ever come face to face with the Mountain People, you need not fear them, for you will be able to communicate...somewhat.

Keeto pondered all that Grandfather had told him. He felt proud of his heritage and prouder still that Grandfather trusted him with sacred knowledge.

Keeto, I know you must have questions. I was the same many years ago. Keeto remained silent, caught up in Grandfather’s words. Grandfather chuckled, I will answer some you may be thinking of like how come they are so big? My Grandfather told me it’s their diet, with all the mountain herbs they eat, but something tells me there is more. Look at your immense size; our People are not small. Keeto, as you know, legends describe our ancestors as a tall, strong and proud People; some talk of giant-like men. In the outside world, the rumor is of Sasquatch, a wild hairy beast. The Mountain People we witnessed are far from hairy beasts. To the untrained eye, the furs they wear can be mistaken as hair, but you have seen first-hand, a different version of what is known in the outside world as Sasquatch. Grandfather continued, passing on to Keeto the sacred knowledge he remembered from his Grandfather and legend.

You noticed the Mountain People wore a type of loincloth that covers their waists and thighs. Do you remember the time I took you to the Spirit Caves?

For the first time since Grandfather began to share the knowledge, Keeto spoke. Of course, Grandfather, the petroglyphs! Keeto laughed and hugged his grandfather. Ever since he was little the Spirit Caves intrigued him.

Grandfather said, We should return to the Village. Grandmother will be worried.

Keeto chuckled, You’re right.

Slowly they started the long walk to the Village. What a great day, Keeto thought to himself. When Grandfather asked him to slow the pace, Keeto felt ashamed at forgetting Grandfather’s aging legs.

Sorry, Grandfather, Keeto said sheepishly.

There is nothing to be sorry for, Keeto, youth and exuberance is a gift not to be wasted!

Running Elk walked steadily behind Keeto. The day’s journey brought several memories to mind. He felt longing and sadness, remembering the last time Big Joe’s plane took off. Running Elk knew the past could not be changed; everything happened for a reason. The family never made it to their destination. Running Elk had waited patiently at Mr. Burn’s trading post for the radio message that never came. He remembered the intense anxiety they all felt, not knowing what had happened to the family. Everyone prayed something small happened, that there was a radio malfunction on the other end. However, the following day confirmed their worst fears. The members of the archeology team radioed the trading post looking for Big Joe. The plane never made it to its destination.

He remembered telling Standing Bird. She screamed a primal sound, one that Running Elk hoped he would never hear again. On her knees, she cried, pulling at her hair, agony echoing in her sobs.

He was surprised when moments later she stood, clutching his hand and wiping her eyes, and said, We must stay strong for Keeto.

Those thoughts haunted Running Elk. He recalled the air search that took place. He had never seen so many planes. Day after day, they crisscrossed the region, but to no avail. No one found any sign of the plane or the family. After two weeks, the search was called off. Search headquarters reported, It's as if the plane vanished into thin air. Running Elk was well aware of the rough terrain, hidden valleys and low-lying clouds that made up the area between his village and the dig site.

Search parties from the Village kept searching for many weeks, scouring the forest and hillsides for a sign of anything...to no avail. The family and plane seemed to have vanished completely. Those were sad days for Keeto, Running Elk and Standing Bird. Really, the whole Village was in mourning. As head of the family, Running Elk took the lead in consoling and comforting Keeto and Standing Bird.

He told the family, There’s still hope. However, second thoughts lingered in his heart.

The harsh reality of the situation became apparent when a government social worker came to the Village wanting to talk to the family. Standing Bird was beside herself; she thought they were going to