K’aalógii Butterfly Boy

A beat-up station wagon turned onto a dirt driveway flanked by leafy trees swaying in the hot afternoon breeze. Planted as a windbreak, the Eucalypts stood tall around the perimeter of the stable and made it the most remarkable landscape in the floodplain.

Rory inhaled, smiled, and stuck his hand out the window. The fragrant leaves of the Australian gums filtered uneven slants of sunlight against the bug-splattered windshield.

The horses in the paddocks whinnied while pacing back and forth.

Rory pulled the car under the trees and killed the engine. He stepped out and stretched beneath the afternoon sun. Rubbing the back of his neck, he dropped his head into the car. Smiling he pulled a mangled Resistol cowboy hat from behind the passenger seat, humming a tune as he walked toward the anxious horses.

How are you guys? he asked the whinnying pair. Rory walked to a haystack covered by a blue tarp. Snatching two flakes of hay, he tossed them to the beggars and refilled their water trough.

Pulling a piece of paper from his jeans, he squinted at it on his way to a padlocked shed. After a moment of fiddling with the lock, he opened the door and saw the treasures.

Bridles, halters, lead ropes, hoof pick, and comb. He recited his list of favorite horse things as he collected them into a rubber bucket. Stepping from the darkened shed back out into the bright, sunlit yard, he continued humming.

He pulled Rasha out first. Gay tells me you’ve developed a stubborn streak, he murmured.

Gay was Rory’s classmate who owned the horses. Rory tied the horse to the hitching post. Rasha was short, only fourteen hands, with a palomino wild horse thing in his blood. He looked at the bottom of each hoof. They were free of rocks and mud and didn’t need the hoof pick. Tugging on the lead rope to make sure it was secure, Rory found the other lead and halter and fetched Casey. The gelding was a bay Thoroughbred cross which stood a hand and a half taller than Rasha. Rory liked his attitude, just sparky enough.

The sound of another car put a smile on Rory’s square, ruddy face. He waved his hat, exposing his mop of blonde hair.

Hello, Rory. The voice came from a shiny, gray Camry. The car pulled next to Rory’s.

Hi, Katie, he smiled at his lab partner. She wore butt-hugging Levi’s and brown scuffed cowboy boots, with spurs. Nothing fancy, but then she didn’t need any decoration. She had a brown belt with a tarnished silver buckle. The red, black, and white plaid shirt with long sleeves folded on each arm showed off her soft brown skin. Her nails were short, from biting. Her long black hair was tucked through the hole in the back of her green, John Deere baseball cap.

You have a cowboy hat, Rory! She said. I’ve known you almost a month, and never knew you wore a cowboy hat. Her smile was dazzling. You should have told me; I have this thing about men in cowboy hats."

The comment flustered Rory. Being enamored with Katie from the start, he was eager to know her. She was a significant change from the Southern California girls he knew.

No one else wears theirs, he replied. So, I leave mine in the car at school. Riding horses calls for one, though. He said. Walking to the car, he pulled out his saddle.

Damn Rory, you’re at the wrong school. Where I come from, a man with a cowboy hat and saddle can have his pick of any gal. Katie teased him. She was usually comfortable around boys who loved horses, but she was leery of him because he was bilagáana, a white fellow. She was an Arizona girl from the Navajo reservation, and his heritage brought out her fears. Even her four years of college in California hadn’t made it easier for her to be around white men.

Katie was surprised by her interest in Rory. Something was disarming about him. Her other lab partner Gay called him artless. He hadn’t come on to her with a smooth line, the way a lot of guys did.

Katie was sensitive to racial prejudice and had grown to expect it. The moment she left home, she knew she was different from everyone around her. But she never felt that with Rory. He treated her like he did everyone else. Plus, he was cute.

Hang on; I forgot my saddle blanket, Rory said. What are you riding with, Katie? Gay has saddles in the tack room.

Thanks, I’ve done this before, you know. Gay and I have gone out a lot. How’s my boy today? Katie murmured to Rasha using her hand to brush dust and eye boogers from the horse’s head. Cupping his chin, she played with the long whiskers on his muzzle and kissed him on his forehead.

Do you need help with your saddle, Katie?

Naw, just dilly-dallying.

When both horses were saddled, he said, Here you go, and handed Katie a bridle.

That’s Casey’s bridle, Rory. Could I have the other one?

Sure.

Katie focused on bridling Rasha. Pushing the headstall onto the horse’s muzzle, she worked the thumb of her right hand into the corner of his mouth, pressing down with her thumb while she worked the snaffle bit between the front teeth. The horse showed his acceptance by using his tongue to adjust it. She finished securing it to his head by pulling the end of the headstall over his ears and buckling up the throatlatch. Rory did the same to Casey.

I’m ready; are you? Rory asked, grabbing Casey’s reins to turn him from the hitching post.

Yep, Katie replied. Still on the ground she pulled Rasha around.

Gathering the reins Rory placed a foot in the stirrups, grabbed Casey’s mane, and heaved himself into the saddle. When Rory mounted Casey, his energy passed to the horse. Rory was comfortable at a swift trot and squeezing from his legs readied Casey for a quick run towards the levee.

Rasha felt Casey’s excitement but worried when he realized his best friend was running off. It caused him to fidget and carry on. Katie tried to secure herself in the saddle, but the mustang broke into a canter to catch Casey. Katie was anticipating a leisurely walk along the delta. This fast pace caught her off guard, and her body position wasn’t right. She was too far back to exert sufficient tugs and leg movements, so she pulled back hard on the reins.

Whoa, Rasha, whoa. It’s okay. Katie spoke in a firm but calm voice. Once he slowed down, she was able to move her body forward. Standing up in the stirrups she shifted her weight back and forth.

Rory, wait for me, she yelled as she pushed Rasha into a gallop, steadily gaining on him.

Oww, shit. A pebble thrown from Casey’s hoof hit Katie square on her forehead. Rory slowed as soon as he realized his partner was no longer trying to catch up.

Turning, he trotted back, What happened?

A rock Casey picked up hit me in the head.

Oh, god, I’m sorry, Katie. Showing off my horse skills is not the way to impress her, he thought. You okay to go on?

Yep, she said. Just take it a little slower. Which way do you want to go?

Let’s keep following the river. He turned Casey around, and they walked side by side. Rory found himself in an all too familiar and awkward situation. I need to be more attentive, he thought. More patient and calm when I’m around Katie.

Things were quiet for a while. Rory struggled to find the right words to say, and Katie rode silently, rubbing her forehead. Finally, he asked her about school.

Why did you decide to go to vet school? Rory asked.

It is something I found I was good at and could do, both for myself and my people.

Woo-wee, that’s thick, Katie.

What about you, Rory? she asked, throwing a dagger glance at him.

I didn’t mean to offend you, he said. I was expecting something different, you know, like you love animals.

I’m sorry, I guess I’m over-reactive. Sometimes I feel like I have to justify leaving my people to go to school. But it’s all intermingled, you know?

Hey, anything that helps a person get into vet school is cool. It’s an accomplishment just to be accepted, you know.

Mhm. She continued to rub her forehead, too polite to complain.

I guess I assumed you, being Navajo, would be more into horses than poodles. He smiled.

No, Katie said. Horses are recent for the Diné. We’ve only had them for three hundred years.

Diné, is that a general word for a Native American?

No, it’s precisely for my tribe, the Navajo. We call ourselves the Diné. The entire Navajo nation is called Dinétah, and it’s made up of ninety clans. We didn’t have horses, or cows, or pigs until the Spaniards came giving us access to domesticated livestock from Europe. We were hunter-gatherers.

What meat did you hunt before domestic animals were around?

Mostly deer and rabbit, sometimes buffalo. The introduction of the bilagáana animals encouraged the Diné to abandon the roaming, hunting and gathering habits, and to embrace a herding lifestyle.

What does bilagáana mean, Katie?

You, white people are bilagáana. You are full bilagáana; I am half. My father is white, and my mother is from a clan called Táchii’nii, the Red Running into Water Clan.

I always think of Navajos as sheep people, you know, with the blankets you make and everything.

Until the Spanish brought them the only animals close to being domesticated were semi-wild dogs, which helped pull belongings on wood sleds.

So, I guess the new livestock led to a significant change in the Navajo way of life.

Katie nodded. It allowed us to settle in a place. The next expeditions from Spain, more concerned with colonizing than of exploring, brought more horses, cattle, sheep, pigs, and goats with them. They focused on two ideas. The first was to spread Christianity; the second was to plunder the lands of the Indians in the name of Christianity.

A bit of religious zealotry goes a long way, Rory said.

"Yes, I guess it does. During the Spanish occupation, the Navajos realized the benefits of possessing these animals themselves. After a few years herding caught on quickly. It was an easy switch changing from hunting-and-gathering to herding. That’s what the sheep allowed us to do.

The method of animal acquisition was unique to the southwest in the early days, Rory. When low on stock, Diné would increase their herds by raiding Spanish farms. Conversely, the Spanish would send raiding parties to recapture them. It was like that for a hundred years."

So, what does all this history have to do with you going to vet school?

The Diné cannot own the property their homes are built on because the land is tribal property and belongs to everyone. However, a Diné’s animals are part of his wealth. If these animals begin dying off, a person’s wealth and family are affected. I became a veterinarian to use my skills to help keep the Diné herds healthy.

Wow, that’s an altruistic goal, Katie. Good for you.

Although her reply to the question would grow well-worn in a few more years, she was happy to explain it as she had. She was drawn to this man and wanted to know more about him.

What about you? What made you become a veterinarian?

A few months after I turned eighteen, my girlfriend, Mel, and I bought a horse. It was both the dumbest and the best thing I ever did. He laughed. We were just starting college. I was aiming for a career in science but was unsure what area I wanted to study. Then we took on this horse project. It cost us time and money. But we were young; it’s how you learn.

Why did you bring a horse into your life? Had you had horses before?

No! That’s the crazy part. It was an impulsive decision, made at an inopportune time, but I’ll be a veterinarian because of it. Neither Mel nor I knew what we were doing, horse-wise, but I thought having a horse would be cool, and Mel was ready. She read most of the Black Stallion books, and I probably got the idea from a cowboy movie.

Katie burst into laughter.

Katie, the real secret is I was enabled, he smiled, finally realizing the why of it all.

How?

I had a feeling it was a dumb idea, and just a glance from anyone else that it was stupid would have kept me from pursuing the project. But everyone I talked to loved it.

Really?

Yeah. And I didn’t know anything. Mel’s parents grew up with horses in Utah and were supportive. Neither had touched one for thirty years, I bet you, but they helped me arrange a trailer, contributed to our horse supplies, even told me what to feed. I know I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for her parents. They knew the strength this animal can give a person.

I know the feeling.

I guess I could have just as easily become a surfer and studied oceanography.

She laughed again.

And like everything else in my life, both excellent and lousy things came from having that horse. Her name was Susie.

The good news is that it made you focus on vet school. What’s the bad news?

Susie died from a tetanus infection, and it was the first time I lost something I loved. It was a horrible death, with tremors and seizures. She was lying on her side, her legs straight out and stiff, and her neck arched way back. Her lips were pulled back, her eyes wide open. It was awful, and I was helpless.

Chapter 2: First Steps

Rory was attracted to Katie the first time he saw her. A few days before classes started there was a picnic where the new classmates gathered.

He was lounging on the lawn, talking to whomever, when he noticed a slim woman with long, jet-black hair walk by, her darkness emphasized by her sky-blue sundress. She was breathtaking. The woman was heading toward the snacks table. Rory stopped talking, got up and walked her way to gather some cookies.

Katie noticed him and smiled.

He introduced himself.

She nodded and said her name was Katie. That was it!

Rory made several attempts to talk with her over the next few weeks, but she seemed uninterested. Every time he went to speak to her, she looked off to the side, down at the floor, anywhere to avoid eye contact. Rory was intrigued but had no clue what to do about it.

Anatomy labs began a month after classes started. Now, instead of sitting in a lecture hall, they would meet in the smelly lab in groups of three. The ice melted when lab partners were assigned. Rory was pleasantly surprised to see Katie was one.

In 1949 when Haring Hall operated as the first California veterinary institution, the anatomy dock became the place dead animals waited for necropsy. Although smelly, cold, and creepy to newbies, the pathology of these animals drove medical discoveries. Every dead animal has a story to tell and anatomy lab is the first step in this journey to understand.

The cadavers were invaluable learning tools. One needs to become accustomed to the way things normally look before deciding how it has been changed by disease or injury. Students spent hours in dissection, digging through skin and tissue, learning the names of the muscles along with their nerve and blood vessel pathways.

The lab was essential. In lecture class students memorized the descriptions of the muscles and bones. Now they saw how it connected anatomically. And this lab was the next step in learning successful surgery. The lecture books sketched the bodies onto a flat map, explaining where you were. Now the lab made the map 3D.

The new friends were lab partners three days a week. The lab itself was hardly a romance generator, with the dogs and cats, cows, horses, and even chickens all stiff from death and refrigeration and smelling of formalin preservative.

Rory was undaunted. He could finally get to know Katie better, and took full advantage of the opportunity. The technical talk led to more casual conversation and softened her defenses. Initially, Katie was squeamish about the dissection, which surprised Rory because she was a farm girl. When he asked her, she explained Navajos have a strong aversion to dead things because of their belief in chʼį́įdii, ghosts of the deceased. A person’s chʼį́įdii is the spirit left after the last breath stops, and the chʼį́įdii may become trapped inside if a person dies in the hogan, the simple, one-room homes of the Navajo.

Why is there a difference, dying inside versus outside? Rory asked.

Space allows chʼį́įdii to disperse, that’s why it is better to die outdoors. No one will ever set foot in a hogan where a person died, or even go near it because the chʼį́įdii is still in there. It is the residue the dead person cannot bring into Hózhó, universal harmony.

Pretty bad juju, Rory quipped.

After death, no one speaks the decedent’s name for fear the chʼį́įdii will hear and make one ill.

This was Katie’s culture, and these were the thoughts she tamed as she steeled herself for the lab’s hard tasks. She grew up with many religious beliefs that seemed primitive to Rory. But his upbringing was similarly based on religious dictates, and most were far-fetched, too. Why should he be less tolerant of the beliefs of others?

Rory and Katie were finishing up some procedures at the lab when he figured today he’d find the courage to ask her for a date, a real date, not just a horse ride. Katie are you going to the dance tonight?

Yeah, I’m going with Paula and Sally, why?

I’d like to partner with you; I’m taking swing lessons.

Where?

On the anatomy dock on Thursdays. A few of the upperclassmen are teaching us some moves. They announced it on the message board before the lecture last week. Didn’t you see it?

No, but I already know swing. I went to Cal Poly, and it’s a cowboy school. Paula and Sally went there as well. She smiled, So, do you like it?

I think it’s cool and I want to learn it better. Can we try it together?

Sure, and I’ll teach you the twelve-step too.

Okay.

Rory arrived at the dance before Katie. He stayed near the door to wait for her. The music played loudly, but few people were dancing.

Hey Katie, hi Paula. He walked toward the ladies as they came up the sidewalk.

Hi Rory, Katie said. Paula hung back. She was Katie’s best friend from Cal Poly. They lived together all four years of college. Rory had sisters and understood and respected the friendships between girls. They had few secrets between them, and these two must have been talking about him. The way Paula was watching them made Rory self-conscious.

Can I get you guys some beer? He asked.

Sure, Paula replied.

I’ll go with you. Katie stepped beside him. He talked with Katie as they waited in line for drinks, so enamored with her he became tongue-tied. Katie was quiet, and this magnified the awkwardness.

Luckily, the dance floor was filling up, and Rory could rely on movement instead of wit. He relaxed the minute they started the dance. It was a good thing he excelled in science, though, because he was horrible with music basics; things like rhythm and timing eluded the fellow.

Rory figured out smooth-enough moves to impress a partner even if the dance steps didn’t exactly match the music. But, he had only two speeds, fast and slow, so he couldn’t bluff past his musical deficiencies when it came to the twelve-step. He reached his limit for dance steps when he learned western swing. Katie persevered until she realized he was hopeless, and they both broke down in laughter. They quit trying and stopped to share a beer as the dance wound down.

Can I drive you home? he asked.

Sure. I’ll be right back; I have to let Paula know.

On the way home, he took advantage of her full attention. Katie, there’s this restaurant I heard about in Old Sac that I’d like to try. Would you like to grab dinner sometime? Thankfully, she only paused for a moment, turned to him and smiled. What a smile!

Sure, Rory. It sounds like fun.

Chapter 3: Katie Reflects

Katie closed the front door quietly. She giggled. This was exciting but unnerving. She was letting things proceed with little thought to the future.

For as long as Katie could remember, she wanted to do everything her mother did, except marry a bilagáana. Katie’s father never managed to fit into the Diné community. After he left, Katie never saw him again. Her parents’ mistake haunted her, and she resolved to stay close to Dinétah, feeling safe within its culture. She knew she would marry a Diné man; it was the Navajo way.

She turned off the lights. She’d worry about these things tomorrow.

Good night all. She smiled, hoping the chorus of voices in her head would get the hint and shut down. It was an excellent technique to pull sleep close, like pulling a shade down to keep the light out. But her shade kept coming up.

No, it can wait until tomorrow pull the shade down.

It’s stuck! Damn!

Katie sat up in bed, too wired to sleep. She turned on the light. Maybe I drank too much, she thought. I might as well try to think this through.

So how did I end up at vet school with this boyish, white man vying for my attention? She remembered him staring straight at her as she walked to the refreshment table. When he came up and spoke she found it hard to hide her disdain. Oh man, she thought as her voices started up.

These bilagáana are so rude the way they push themselves at each other; it certainly is not the Diné way.

She wanted to ignore him. But, she had to be here a while, so she glanced at him, told him her name, and left him standing there, hoping that would be the end of it.

She’d known the fates were against her the day she learned they would be lab partners. And tonight, she’d not only spent all of her time with him, but she’d said yes to a dinner date.

What is the attraction? He is all wrong for me, for my future.

Katie left her room to get aspirin and saw the light from under Paula’s door. She knocked.

Paula?

Come in, Katie. What’s up?

Katie entered and sat on Paula’s bed. They’d been housemates for five years. When Katie accepted a grant and scholarship to Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo, Ellen Colgrave, the wife of Katie’s mentor in Arizona, suggested she look up an old classmate of hers, Jackie, who still lived in the San Luis Obispo area. Jackie offered Katie a spare bedroom to rent, which was a perfect arrangement. Paula, Jackie’s daughter, was another pre-vet student, and they shared many classes.

I think I’m getting into a mess, Katie said.

How so?

Rory just asked me on a dinner date, and I said yes.

Well, good for you! It had to happen sometime. You can’t run from white men all your life, can you? There are a lot of them out there, you know. Paula chuckled. What are you afraid of, that you’re going to fall in love with him or something?

Maybe, how did you know?

Paula knew Katie well and chose her words carefully. I know you’ve been riding with him, I know you see him three days a week in the lab, and most importantly, you danced with him all night. I know you don’t want to, Katie, but you’re falling for him and are feeling guilty. Stop it! What’s wrong with that?

I don’t know what to think. I don't know why I accepted.

Katie, you’re going to be a doctor in four years, and you’re worried about dinner with a classmate? Come on, relax!

Well, you know how I am with guys, especially white guys. But he’s different.

Okay, so how is Rory different?

He’s respectful and kind, and he listens to me. I think he likes me for who I am; I’m not just a curiosity for him. I feel good about him. I guess it’s that simple.

Well, maybe you should let it happen. You have kept yourself closed off for so long. By now you should know that fun’s necessary. Just go for it, Katie. Get some joy in your life, yeah?

Katie leaned back and stared at Paula. Something was different about her. She was as dedicated to a career as Katie was. They had kept each other on task for a long time, and this was a new direction for her.

Okay, what’s up with you, Paula? There’s something cooking in there.

Tom and I are going on a dinner cruise tomorrow night.

Tom? Tom from our class, Tom? Really?

Paula grinned. I like him.

Well, good for you. Katie hugged her girlfriend and smiled for her happiness. That’s great! I didn’t even know you were seeing him, Paula.

That’s because you’ve been a little preoccupied. It’s happening to you too, Katie. You and Rory.

Chapter 4: Old Sacramento

Okay, I’ll take the shirt.

I know the gal’s gonna like it, man, the salesman said.

How do you know it’s a girl?

College guys don’t worry about buying shirts unless they have a new girl, or their mom is coming to visit. School just started, and moms won’t be here until the holidays.

Rory was beyond that ‘college age’ excitement but still appreciated the fellow’s insight. Back in his car he cranked the window down and turned on the radio smiling at a Waylon Jennings tune, tapped the cadence on the steering wheel. He was home in five minutes, showered, and left, ready to focus on affairs of the heart.

Rory walked to Katie’s front door shiny and handsome. He wore clean Levi’s and the new shirt. It was a stately pattern of dark lines on a pastel background, not garish like the paisleys some guys wore. Well, that’s what the shirt clerk said, anyway. He also wore his boots and his belt, but he was still too shy to wear his hat.

Sally, Katie’s other roommate, opened the door. Hoowee, she called out. Hey, Katie! Your cowboy’s here.

Rory didn’t take offense. Sally was a pretty cowgirl from Cal Poly. She was the musician in Katie’s household, who played guitar well and had a pure, firm voice, just the type of girl Rory used to like. But those days were behind him now that Katie entered his life.

As he was thinking of Katie she appeared wearing a long, pale blue dress with white and green threading around the neck. She wore no earrings or necklace and was stunning with her black hair and sparkling eyes. He could smell her perfume.

All set? He asked.

One sec. She rummaged through the front closet. Here it is. She pulled out a blue sweater and wrapped it around her shoulders. Okay, I’m ready!

Rory opened the door for Katie, and she floated onto the porch, leaving the scent of her perfume wafting behind her. He followed her to the car. Where are my keys? I thought they were in my hand! Did I forget my keys? Oh, here they are, in my pocket. He hurried to open the passenger door.

Thank you, Rory.

You’re welcome. He watched her slide into her seat. He got in the car, still a little nervous, and turned on the radio. What station do you like?

I borrowed Paula’s Blondie CD. Can we play it?

Sure.

Rory drove across the Yolo Bypass, a five-mile-wide spillage channel into West Sacramento and crossed the Sacramento River into Old Sac. Because of the river, the town pushed eastward as its population increased, and this older part had fallen into disrepair. Over the last decade, the city of Sacramento revitalized the area into a tourist destination and nightspot. They resurfaced the roads with cobblestones, installed wooden sidewalks, and refurbished old buildings to look like the late 1800s.

Rory parked the car. Should I run out first and open her door? He didn’t want to come off too strong, but he wanted her to know he liked her. Katie didn’t give him time to decide. She opened the door herself. They walked side-by-side, their feet clomping on the wooden sidewalk.

Here it is. He stopped and opened a heavy wooden door. It’s upstairs, I guess. He followed her up the wooden staircase to the French restaurant.

Good evening, sir. How many are there tonight? The maître d’ was an attractive, slim woman, with dark hair tied back in a bun and a thin line of dark red lipstick on her lips.

Two.

This way please. They followed the woman to a table.

"Rory, I thought you