It was February I guess in Gallup at Richardson’s Pawn down on Front Street. It was near noon outside, and the air was crisp and cold. The back counter was busy with those wanting to pawn the things they had. Each had something to lay out on the corner, there were many there, so I waited in line and looked at those gathered there. They lloked to be all Navajo. Some dressed for the cold, wearing coats, overalls and others the finery for a Saturday in town. There was the usual crowd…old men and some old women who wore scarves holding onto grandchildren I suppose. There were family men and their wives, cowboys some of them. There were those there  who looked like they had a rough night and still hungover. Some girls stood together with small bracelets, looked like they were trying to catch the bus or something. Along the walls on the side were the jewelry cases and those who were looking at all the silver and turquoise jewelry. The back of the line was long there and I could see it was moving slow.

I heard a voice speak to me and turned to see a White woman and she asked, “Can you tell if it is real or fake?” I looked at her and she was looking to buy something, maybe a concho belt or something.

“They are all real, they only sell the real McCoy here,” I said. I turned around, but she continued on talking.  She had a pleasant voice, it sang in the way talked. Her eyes were clear and gray colored,  they looked straight into mine. This was a city girl, cuz most women don’t look at you that way. She asked some questions and we spoke a little bit. She told me she was from Texas, visiting the place maybe by chance looking for a rug, and a silversmith to make her a few things.

“I come from a place where they make rugs I said, I might know someone who could help you.” She said, it would be good to buy something straight from the person who made it.

When you hear these things, you have to stand back and really look at the person  standing there, weighing whether it was really worth the trouble to do such a thing, because there are always complications about taking someone out to look for a rug when  you don’t really know them. You have to  bring them into the circle of people you know, some family and your community. It is a lot to ask such a thing, but this I guess is what she wanted to do.

Someone who asks thinks it is a business deal, just a short transaction but they don’t know it is a lot more, and they learn how it is when they are in the midst of it. After a long drive to bring them to where they can find rugs, jewelry from the maker is far from the city lights of Gallup. There will be time together, and a lot of driving to a far off spot way out in the middle of nowhere. Some can’t take it and get scared, frightened by the way of life, the remoteness and not knowing if it is safe to go way out there.

This one looked to be a free spirit willing to go to such lengths to find a rug.  Will she drink my aunt’s coffee and eat her stew you think, will she find that no plumbing and an outhouse to use too uncivilized. You think about such things.

I thought about a story told around home, about a young soldier who came back on the Greyhound with his young bride. It was sometime ago now, over by Sheep Springs after Korea I guess. It is way out there this place, Sheep Springs, but it is near the road, It takes a while to get there in those days the road from Gallup to Shiprock was dirt and so the long Greyhound took them that way.

He was from just East of there, from out on the flat, a young soldier, a Marine in dress blues. Somehow, those blues attract a lot of Navajo young men and they look good in the that uniform, pants cut straight with the ground, stove pipe legs, a thin waist, gallant and handsome, straight back and hair cut short and when they move it is like a razor when you see them; the crowd parts like the Red Sea in front of them. Yes that is what those dress blues can do.

Well he brought a girl, some say she was Japanese. She had skin that was like white chalk, clear and light with jet-black hair. She had met this young man and listened to his talk of distant mesas, of the mountain to the West, of strange and interesting things like Sings, ceremonies and a life like she had never heard of or seen before. When he spoke he had a dreamy look in his eyes and she could see it with him. What a place and the People who lived there were just like him. In time she gave her heart and soul to him and said I will follow you back to your place.

They made the long trek across the ocean,  back to Twenty Nine Palms and left by bus. They came to Gallup, to the bus station on Route 66 and ate across the street at the White Café. The Navajos there looked at her and thought that she must be Pueblo, some kind of Pueblo from maybe over by Albuquerque.

She was quiet and did not look around and spoke softly to this young Marine in dress blues. They ate and left, the bus would not be around for an hour. They walked around town and she saw the land was dry, more so than she had thought. There were some drunks walking around, some asking for money so they could visit the Mexican bootleggers there.

She did not understand this, he explained that Indians could not drink liquor, it was against the law. They could not go into any bars or liquor stores, so the bootleggers provided the drinks. She thought this was strange, as it was available to anyone in her own country.

She could see from the treatment they received from the ticket agent, that these Indians were not liked in town, the dress blues meant nothing to the agent. They had to wait outside. Indians could not wait inside with the White people.  She was tired and wanted to sit down but couldn’t.  There was an outhouse out back to use for the bathroom, and the one inside was reserved for others,  She looked at this outhouse. It was an awful sight, but she bore it and used it. She didn’t want to look around too closely but she did and noticed the smell was terrible. There was no place to wash up and she could not see one.

The young man in dress blues felt ashamed for her that he could not offer anything better. The bus came and they got on it and sat near the back. It was near midday and they headed out of town. As they went north he pointed out a store and told her, that the place sold cooked sheep heads a delicacy for his people. She just looked at him and didn’t say anything.

As they drove further north the land turned dry and there were not trees. The dust rose from the dirt road and there was no more town. It was clear that this was not what she thought it would be like. The drive was long and it was a quiet ride. After stopping here and there, she would see Indian people get off the bus, but there was no house, or car or train to meet them. They just started to walk across this barren landscape.

“Where are they going she said?” He told her that they live where you can’t see the houses; they live way out there. She just looked at him and didn’t say anything. She said where is the water, the streams and lakes, where are the trees. He told her that water had to be hauled by wagon in some cases from a long way off. She said will we have to do this. He said, yes.  She was quiet and asked about the trees, do you have trees where you live. He said on the flat land there are no trees where I live, they are on the mountain. She could see the mountain rising in the West.

Community people were there at the trading post, getting supplies and water from the springs nearby. They saw the bus pull up and it stopped by the road.  A young Navajo Marine got out and pulled his duffel bag out and layed it on the ground.  As he stood there, a Pueblo girl with clear light skin got off. The driver went into the trading post and the bus sat there waiting for him to return.

She stood there and looking around at everything around, she told him, “I can’t stay here.”

She got back on the bus and the driver returned and it drove off. He just stood there in his dress blues…and watched her go.

She left him and never came back. It is a story that still is talked about around those places when people sit around and remember things.

I stood there and thought about the Dress Blues, and did this all came to me in an instant it seemed like. This woman looking for a rug looked friendly, a wanderer maybe, maybe it would be all right.  I collected my pawn and looked at her and said, “Good luck” and went out the door…