I nodded a brief yes.

“This place is in my heart, but it can’t be my home, not now, maybe not ever. Do you remember how Grandma knew it wasn’t right, so she dug up the cord and put it on the gun rack?”

Again, I nodded.

“There are many kinds of warriors, Josie. I’ve been one kind, and you know the saying goes, once a Marine always a Marine, but now I need to be a different kind of warrior for the Navajo people. I want to get my law degree so I can help native people retain their lands, and not just the Navajo people. Our government doesn’t need acres and acres of land. Do you know that the United States Government OWNS more than half of the land out west? As much as 60% of the land in some states. The government goes in and takes the land in the name of the people, but what it is doing is taking the land from the people. The founding fathers, as well as a few of the great chiefs, would be rolling in their graves if they knew about the land grab that has happened by our own government.”

Samuel breathed out in frustration, dropping his hand from my face and running it through his hair. “Don’t even get me started, Josie.” He paused and then confronted me again. “So you think I should live here with my grandma in her hogan? Is that what you’re saying, Josie? Live here and herd sheep? Do you think my grandma would think I loved her more if I did?”

I felt like the lowest of life forms, and I shook my head miserably. “No, Samuel, I don’t. I’m sorry. I’m not really sure what I meant.”

The silence around us was broken only by the occasional distant laughter floating up from the hogan below and an orchestra of happy crickets united in their evening song. Several long moments passed before Samuel supplied gently, “Maybe we aren’t really talking about me, Josie.”

Samuel waited patiently for an answer, but after significant time passed without a response, he silently rose to his feet. He reached his hand down, and I took it, letting him pull me up beside him.

“We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, Josie. Let’s go back and see if they’ve saved us any goat gut ice cream.”

“Ugh!” I cried out, totally falling for it.

“Just kidding, sweetheart. Goat eyeballs are actually quite tasty, though. They’re considered a delicacy among my people.”

“Samuel!”

His laughter eased the churning in my heart, and I followed him down the steep path back to the dim light of Grandma Yazzie’s hogan.

There were no tears when Samuel and his grandmother said their goodbyes the next morning. The sun was just peeking her way over the eastern mountains as they spoke in low tones, their cheeks pressed together, Samuel’s forehead resting on her shoulder, his back bowed to accommodate their embrace. I turned from them, embarrassed to find my own eyes were moist when theirs were not. I guess I just didn’t like goodbyes.

I felt a gentle touch on my sleeve, and turned to see Grandma Yazzie standing close beside me. Her eyes searched mine, noting, I’m sure, the wet that was threatening to overcome them. She reached up and patted my cheek with her warm, rough palm. When she spoke, her English was almost perfect.

“Thank you for coming. Samuel loves you. You love Samuel. Go and be happy.”

I put my hand over hers and held it for a moment. Then she stepped away from me, and my eyes overflowed. I turned from her quickly, stepping into the cab of the truck. Samuel must have heard what she’d said; he was only a few feet away. Our small bags and the two bedrolls were already stowed in the truck bed ready to go, so it was only a minute before he climbed in beside me and started the truck.

As we pulled away, I found myself gulping as I tried to stem the flow of tears that would not be calmed. I jabbed at the jockey box, seeking reinforcements, and grabbed a handful of brown Taco Bell napkins and scrubbed at my face, desperately trying to dam the stream of my unruly emotions.

“Oh Josie,” Samuel sighed gently. “Your heart is too tender for your own good.”

“I don’t usually cry like this, Samuel. Geez, it’s been years since I’ve cried like this. Since you’ve been back I can’t seem to stop. It’s like a cloud has burst inside me, and I’m caught in a constant downpour.”

“Come here, Josie,” Samuel said, and when I slid over next to him he kissed me gently on the forehead and smoothed my hair from my damp cheeks. “Well then, maybe you should go ahead and just let it rain for a while.”

And so I did. I cried until I was all wrung out, and I didn’t think I would cry again for a good many more years. Then I laid my head down on Samuel’s right thigh and fell asleep with his hand in my hair and Conway Twitty singing “Don’t Take it Away” on the radio.

We made good time on the way home. Apparently, all those tears I’d cried had been heavy, because I felt strangely weightless and empty for most of the drive. Samuel and I talked of this and that, but the conversation was light and roaming. We got caught in a downpour, of the natural variety this time, and when the rain cleared a huge rainbow traversed the sky. This prompted another Navajo legend about Changing Woman’s sons trying to reach the Turquoise House of Sun-God across the Great Water. The story told how, when they reached the Great Water, they followed Spider Woman’s directions and with songs and prayers, put their hands into the Great Waters and a huge Rainbow Bridge appeared to take them to the Sun-God. The story also involved the sons meeting a little red headed man who resembled a sand-scorpion and spitting four times into their hands, but it was a good story regardless.