It was summertime in the Chuska Mountains on the Navajo rez and everyone was living up in their sheep camps. There were some boys who had put in a full day of work and were heading back down to the valley below. It was 1968.

Bitsilly had received a letter from the Selective Service saying he was going to be going away to serve his country. He walked with his brothers in the Navajo way of speaking. They had worked fixing fence and stayed at the sheep camp in white wall tents where everyone slept on cots. When the work was done, word came they had to head down the mountain.

Three boys walked along, Bitsilly, Michael and Silas—boys who had grown up together. The truck was gone and so they walked down through the pine trees for a while making their own trail, then slowly the pinion pine and cedars came. The earth was at peace; the sweet smell of cedars and juniper marked the way as they walked this place above their homes.

Bitsilly’s eyes were brown. He was dressed in Wranglers, boots and a worn Western shirt. What do young men think about at such an age, when the world is new, having worked outside all day and wondering about the days to come?