NENA, MUDDY AND CHANCHO were ushered through a series of narrow passageways and small rooms until they entered a luxurious, yawning cavern. It buzzed with the gentle hum of electric lights. The walls were smooth and curving like the dried bones of a giant. Several surfaces boasted ornate paintings and tapestries varying from story panels to impressionistic art.
The room so overwhelmed them it took several moments to realize a man sat on the far end among a heap of cushions. Their escort indicated they were to move forward. Nena found it natural to take the lead—still the voice of negotiation for her people. This time she negotiated with her people as well and had no idea what to negotiate.
She played through several possibilities in her mind. What sort of recompense would the cave dwellers want now that the three of them knew of their existence? Would it be as easy as swearing to remain silent, or would there be blood? Even more basic, who where these people? And what were they doing here?
The chief spoke in English. “Welcome. I hope you have not been treated too roughly. We are not accustomed to guests.” He was a short man, elderly, but not infirm, with white, wispy hair. His nose hooked so sharply it jutted towards the ground. His eyes pierced them, and his gaze was strengthened by his jaw. He invited them to join him on the cushions.
As they sat, Nena responded. “We were treated no worse than I would have expected from proud Kickapoo warriors.” She crafted her words so as to compliment her host while portraying personal strength.
The chief nodded. “We have not maintained much of a warrior tradition, but we do what we must to survive.”
He was self-deprecating, surprising Nena. Maybe these were not to be negotiations after all. “It looks to me you are doing much more than merely surviving. These caves are truly remarkable.”
“Thank you, we are proud of them. At first, everything we did was from necessity. But that was over ninety years ago. During my lifetime we have shifted our focus to discovery. It has made life underground,” he hesitated, “more pleasant.”
Nena did not know where to go next with the conversation, but before she could continue Chancho interrupted.
“It’s simply amazing. How do you generate electricity for your lights?” He waved his arms about energetically as he spoke.
The chief shook briefly with silent laughter. “Yes, we’ve only had those for the last several years. I am proud to say they are a product of my granddaughter, Crystal.She was the one who first thought of gathering the cave winds to turn wheels producing electricity. We have three small generators that create power for our lights.”
“Wonderful!” Chancho clapped. “Like windmills for pumping water. It’s so simple.”
The chief smiled, “Sometimes it’s the simplest solutions that are the hardest to see.”
Chancho nodded.
Nena asserted herself back into the conversation. “You have been living here secretly all these years?” She emphasized the word ‘secretly.’
“Yes, we have remained hidden,” the chief said. “You are from Mexico, correct?”
“Yes. My people still live there. I moved north,” she indicated Muddy with a point of her chin, “for my man.”
The chief nodded. “Many of us were also from Mexico. We were part of the Kickapoo who left to return to Indian territory. We did not make it. It was reported that Indian territory was shrinking as its inhabitants grew. Without a home ahead of us or behind us, we decided to go no further.”
Nena could not contain her excitement. “Then you are indeed relatives.”
The chief continued, “At first we used the caves only for shelter at night and for temporary defense against our enemies. Then it became plain we would never be safe in a world no longer our own. Not just our land had been taken, but our way of life. Finally, the simple answer came to light. We discovered the vastness of the caves out of curiosity. We carved homes from them out of necessity, until the space within the earth finally became a place to ourselves.”
Chancho asked, “How many of you are there?”
“That, I will not say, but there are many.” The chief looked from person to person, gripping them with his piercing eyes. “The only question remains, will you be numbered with them.”
Nena glanced at the others, unsure how to answer.
“As you have observed, our existence here depends on secrecy. A secrecy we have maintained with diligence for over three generations. It would not do for us to betray those efforts with neglect.”
Nena tensed. It had been a negotiation all along, only she had been lulled asleep during the process. Her mind flashed in an effort to detect what ground she had lost. What strength could she still bring to bear? Would they be required to stay?
The chief continued, “It has also become apparent we cannot remain detached from the world above us.” His eyes flashed to each of them in turn. “We need friends. Allies. Family,” he nodded more to himself than anyone else, “who live on the surface. We need a connection to the outside world we can trust will not betray our secret. I am asking you to be that connection.”
Nena was shocked. She looked at Muddy, who raised his eyebrows. She turned toward the chief. “But you don’t—”
“Not one of you has looked selfishly or acted selfishly toward each other or your surroundings since you have entered my sight. We live closely with each other. It has become impossible to hide our intentions. Yours are as clear to me as my own. You,” he nodded toward Nena, “are upset for letting down your guard. Your only intent upon entering was to negotiate the safety of your people. You,” he indicated Muddy, “are unable to disguise your love and passion for your woman and your concern about troubles that await you on the surface. And you,” he nodded toward Chancho, “you have made my decision easy. You have shown no interest in your own safety, only the pure joy of discovery.”
The chief continued, “I know your time is short with us, and so I make my invitation bluntly. I know you will not threaten our safety.” He looked Nena in the eyes. “Neither will we threaten yours.” He looked at Chancho, “Will you join our people?”
Nena looked into Muddy’s eyes. He trusted her completely. She shifted her gaze to Chancho, whose eyes swam with tears he could not hold back. She knew he felt an outcast, without family. To an extent they all did. But for Chancho, the chief’s offer represented the fulfillment of one of his deepest dreams—to be part of a people.
Chancho gripped both Nena and Muddy by their arms and smiled at them before looking longingly into the chief’s deep gaze. “Si, señor, we will.”
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