Descendents of Floyd & Grace Lytle
Ken Thompson's Unofficial Medicine Lodge Website
A short story by
Norman E. Thompson
Padre Juan José Felipe Tomás Calderón de la Cereça reached down and grasped
the gold cross hanging around his neck and said a quick prayer thanking God for
his survival. That gold cross was the last thing he had that was made in Spain.
His robes had worn out and he sewed new ones, his sandals had worn out and he
made new ones from the hide of that large animal that the indians called
buffalo. The gold cross brought back memories of his meeting with La Reina Queen
Isabel of Aragón. It was the only time in his life that he had ever been in the
presence of the queen, and she actually placed the gold cross and chain around
his neck. He remembered the chill he got when her hand touched his neck. It was an
honor for this humble padre to meet the queen of Spain, and to be sent with El Capitán to preach the word of God in the New World.
"Vamos a descansar un rato" yelled El Capitán. "We're going to rest awhile."
Padre Juan sat down in the green grass and red dirt and pulled out his botellín
and took a drink of water. This area was pretty. He had seen so many wonders in
the New World, and now as the army marched north they were in a land of buttes
of red dirt with white chalk sticking out of the ground. The green grass and
native trees made quite a contrast to the red dirt with white chalk. Even the
river was red, and when they crossed it, it felt as if it was medicine water.
"Yes," el padre thought to himself, "God had really created a magnificent
beautiful land in the New World." He smiled a little as he thought about the "víboras",
the poisonous snakes sometimes 8 feet long, that rattled their tails. Even in
the New World man could not avoid the curse of eating that first apple.
It was 1537 ano domino, the year of our Lord. Padre Juan was marching with
the army of el capitán Fernando Diego Ramón de Quiroz, a conquistador appointed
by the governor of New España to find Cíbola, the seven cities of gold. Many
evenings, after saying mass, after eating supper, the men would sit around the
campfire while El Capitán would tell the story of Hernán Cortés and the conquest
of the Aztec city of Tenochtitlán. And then El Capitán would tell about the
seven cities of gold. The Aztecs told the Conquistadores about seven beautiful
magnificent cities of gold, located hundreds of miles to the north, in the area
of the huge animals they called los bisontes. El Capitán had very deep genuine
faith. "Yo se que debemos estar muy cerca de El Dorado, la ciudad hecho de oro."
"I know now we must be very close to finding the city of gold, El Dorado." Padre
Juan remembered the day in January when they left the last Spanish outpost. El
Capitán knew that the weather to the north would be cold, so he led the army
north in January, hoping to catch the warm season to find the cities of gold.
"¡Vámonos!" The order yelled out by el sargento woke Padre Juan up from his
nap. The horses snorted and pranced around as the few men lucky enough to have
them mounted up. Padre Juan gathered up his botellín and dusted off his robe. As
he began the march forward he let out a big sigh. It would be 3 or 4 hours
before they would stop for the night.
The sun had moved farther to the west and Padre Juan knew that soon El
Capitán would find a place to camp for the night. He reached down to grasp his
gold cross and say thanks for another day of life, but the cross was gone. He
panicked and reached all over his chest feeling for the chain and cross, but it
was gone.
Son of Moon looked at the gold rocks in his hand. The god of the water had
made them.
For many sunrises and sunsets, the brothers and sisters of the land had
walked, through cold and rain and snow, through heat and sweat, to the god of
water. In the land of the tall mountains, where the god of water pours through
the tall blue trees, down the canyon, Son of Moon and his brothers and sisters
found the gold rocks. Son of Moon and his sister SkyStar waded through the cold
god of water, over the rocks, watching the fish swimming in the god of water.
The land on each side of the god of water was covered with cold snow, the god of
water. And SkyStar cried out to all the brothers and sisters of the land as she
saw the gold rocks. She waited for her brother, Son of Moon, a man, to reach
down into the god of water and grasp the gold rocks from the god of water.
"Son of Moon, you have blessed our people by finding the gold rocks," the
medicine man said as he examined the gold rocks.
And the brothers and sisters of the land walked back, through cold and rain
and snow, through heat and sweat, to their home land, the land of red dirt and
buttes with white chalk, and green grass and green cedar trees.
Son of Moon looked at the gold rocks in his hand. The god of water had made
them.
"Son of Moon, you have blessed our people. The god of water made these gold
rocks," the medicine man said, as Son of Moon dropped the gold rocks into the
red water. "The gold rocks will make the red water into medicine."
Son of Moon was happy and proud. Skystar was happy and proud of her brother.
The medicine man was happy and proud. All the brothers and sisters of the land
were happy and proud. And the red water turned into medicine.
Robert M. Johnson held the reins to the right and his paint obeyed like the
intelligent animal that she was. Over to the right he saw a small pond and some
trees that would be a good place to camp for the night. It was 1851. As he
dismounted, Robert thought about his long trip all the way from California. He
let the reins fall loose as he pulled his saddlebags down and laid them next to
the tree. He pulled the halter off the paint's head, tossed it next to the
saddlebags, and bent over to unstrap his saddle. "Yep," he thought to himself,
"I'm the luckiest man alive." He laid the saddle down and let his horse graze on
the green grass. Out of the saddlebag he pulled out a pot and a tripod and a bag
of beans and an old coffee pot. As he set up the tripod and hung the pot from
it, he looked around. This was a curious area, with buttes of red dirt and white
chalk. The green grass and native cedar trees made it look purple from a
distance. "I know I gotta be in Kansas territory but I thought Kansas was all
flat. When I left Kansas City it was all hilly and limestone, but not this red
dirt. And these cedar trees with blue berries just don't look like anything
around Kansas City."
He pulled out a hand axe and cut some dead branches off one of the trees, and
got a fire started under the tripod. Then he took his coffee pot and walked down
to the pond and got some water. It was red looking water. He took a handful and
sipped it, and it tasted bitter like medicine. He filled up the coffee pot and
made his way back to camp, and poured the water into his pot full of beans. Then
he made his way back down to the pond for more water. "Yep, I'm the luckiest man
alive."
The coffee started brewing and the beans started cooking, and Robert pulled a
brush out of his saddlebag and started to brush down his paint. "Yep, I pulled
off a good one. And they ain't never gonna find me." As the sun sank down below
one of the buttes, the shadows from the fire started to dance against the cedar
trees.
Once the horse was brushed down for the night, he sat down and ate his beans
and coffee. He thought back to that gold mining camp in the Sierra Madre in
California. He thought back to that old prospector pulling his mule behind him
on that deserted road.
He thought back to the way he pulled his gun on the prospector. He thought back
to the way the prospector reached for his gun. He thought back to the feel of
his finger as he pulled the trigger. He thought back to the way the prospector
fell to the ground. He thought back to the leather pouch in the saddlebag, and
how he opened it up and poured out 3 handfuls of gold nuggets. He thought back
to the way he grabbed the saddlebags off the mule and swatted the mule to make
it run away.
"Yep, I'm the luckiest man alive. That gold has got to be worth thousands of
dollars. And nobody ever found the old man. It's been a year and a half and
nobody found the old man and they ain't found me yet." He reached into his
saddlebag and pulled out that leather pouch. He loosened the leather string and
poured some of the nuggets out into his dirty hands. Some of the nuggets would
catch the light from the campfire and glisten. One of the nuggets, his favorite,
was about the size of the core of an apple. He dug around in the pouch to find
it and pulled it out to look at again, just like he had done every night for the
last year as he made his slow trip across the west, through Santa Fe, and on
towards Kansas City. He leaned back against the saddle, with his favorite gold
nugget in his hand, and rested his head. Soon he fell asleep.
The chirping of a sparrow woke Robert up. The sun was coming up over the
ridge off to the east. In the daylight he could make out a lot more of the lay
of the land. To the west were the buttes, looking like mountains shaved off
level. To the south were hills and canyons, all covered with trees. To the east
was a ridge. He figured he must be in some kind of valley. To the east was a row
of trees and he figured it must be a river, probably that red water that he
found in all the other ponds and lakes in the area.
He stoked his campfire and got it going. Then he started some more beans and
coffee. "When I get back to Kansas City I'm gonna eat something besides beans
and coffee!" he thought to himself. His paint was grazing near a cluster of
cedar trees. He brought her back to the camp and started putting on the blanket,
then the saddle, then the halter, and then sat down to eat his beans and coffee.
After eating, he took his pots down to the pond and cleaned them out in the red
water.
Back at camp, he got everything packed up and mounted up on his paint.
Suddenly he heard a rattler, and his horse spooked. He held the reins tight as
she bucked, and kept her under control. Robert never knew that as his paint
reared up, her hoof pushed his favorite gold nugget down into the red soil. He
rode off into the east never knowing what had happened.
The year was 1966. Dennis and Mike were riding their banana bikes on the Old
Gyp Hills Road. "You better not make me late to watch Batman and the Monkees!"
Mike yelled at Dennis.
"Don't worry, it's all downhill from here." Dennis answered back.
"We've been riding all afternoon and we're probably several miles from home.
I hope we don't run into any snakes," Mike said with a scared voice.
"Don't worry. The Gyp Hills Road is all downhill to the highway, and the
highway is flat all the way back to town. Once we get to the old Adams place
then we're practically back in town." Dennis reassured Mike.
"Yeah, just like the time we went out on the Isabel road and didn't get back
until way after dark. And when we rode to Sun City we had to ride back in the
dark. I'm glad it's cooling off and not so hot now. I'm going to stop and drink
my bottle of pop." Mike said. He got off his banana bike and pulled a big bottle
of Coke out of the basket on the ape hangers.
"You sissy. That basket is for girls!" Dennis said with a laugh.
"My bottle of pop is hot but I'm so thirsty I'll drink it anyway!" Mike
answered back. "Hey, look!" Mike yelled as he reached down under the fence line
along the bar ditch. He pulled a gold cross out of the red dirt and brushed off
the white chalk with his fingers.
"Cool! Can I see it?" Dennis said.
"Yeah, but give it back. I found it." Mike said.
"It's gold! We'll have to go show it to Mrs. Wheat. She'll know if it's
real!" Dennis said.
"Let's get back to town!" Mike said. He chugged down the rest of his bottle
of Coke and launched his banana bike down the road. The two boys got to pedaling
so fast, and on the loose gravel, Mike's bike slid on its side. Dennis slid to a
stop and yelled, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I think I scraped my knee. Mom's gonna kill me." Mike said.
"Hey, look over there!" Dennis yelled. He went over to the fence line along
the bar ditch, and found a rock that glittered like gold. "I found a piece of
gold too!"
"Let me see it," Mike said as he limped on his scraped knee. "It looks real,"
Mike said as Dennis put the golden colored rock in his hand. "This has been a
pretty good bike ride after all. We both found gold!" Mike said.
Dennis put the gold rock in his pocket and Mike put the gold cross in his
pocket, and they rode on down the Gyp Hills Road back to town.
After what seemed like hours of pedaling, Mike and Dennis climbed the hill up
to the truck stop, and then turned north to take their shortcut over the
cardboard bridge. Another couple of blocks and they were on Main Street. It was
already late and Hibbard's was closed up and the stoplights were blinking
yellow. In front of the Intermediate School the boys went their separate ways.
Dennis parked his banana bike on the front porch and went in the house. "Dad,
I found some gold in the Gyp Hills! Mike and I rode our bikes out there and
found gold!"
"Son, I've told you a dozen times, there ain't no gold in them Gyp Hills! Now
it's late. Go eat supper and get ready for bed!" Dennis' dad told him. After
supper and a bath, Dennis tossed the gold rock into his dresser drawer and got
into bed. He could hear his sister's transistor radio playing a Beatlesong as he
fell asleep.
Mike parked his banana bike on the front porch and ran into the house. "Dad,
I found some gold in the Gyp Hills! Dennis and I rode our bikes out there and
found gold! Look, it's a gold cross!" he said as he pulled the gold cross out of
his pocket. "Son, there ain't no gold in them Gyp Hills. Let me see that. It's
plastic! And you tore your pant leg again. Now go eat supper and get in the
bathtub." Mike's dad told him. "I'll be glad when school starts so those boys
aren't out gallivanting around town," Mike's mother said. After supper and a
bath, Mike looked at the gold cross. He didn't believe that it was plastic. It
looked real to him. He tossed it in his dresser drawer and got in bed and fell
asleep.
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Updated 11/11/08
