My father is tall. He is strong. He is brave. He hunts and he rides and he sings. He coaxes the corn and the squash plants to grow out of the sand-dry earth. My father has magic in his finger tips. He can turn flat pieces of silver into things of beauty. Sometimes I hide in the wide folds of my mother's skirts and look out at my father.
I have black hair. I have white teeth. My hands are brown with many fingers. My feet are brown with many toes. My arms are brown and strong. My legs are brown and swift. I have two eyes. They show me how things look. I have two ears. They bring sounds to stay with me for a little while. I have two names, a War Name for just me to know but not to use, and a nickname for everyone to use for every day. But with all these things I still am only one little girl. Isn't it strange?
I see my father's horses running in the wind. I feel little standing here when the wind and the horses run by.
Of all the kinds of sheep, Navaho sheep give the best wool for weaving.
My mother says that is why they are Navaho sheep, because they know best the needs of The People.
Goats have long whiskers. They have long faces. They have long legs. Goats are funny, I think.
Now that it is autumn, the lambs that were babies in the spring, have grown. They are almost as tall as their mothers.
My father takes the lambs in his wagon to the trading post. He takes them to sell to the trader.
Hosteen White Man has the trading post. He has hard things on the shelf. He has soft things on the wall. And in a jar he has red stick candy that he keeps just for me.
Hosteen White Man at the trading post is such a good man. Sometimes, I forget he is not one of The People.
In his wagon my father drives to the trading post. He takes the lambs and he takes me, too.
He tells me that sometimes he trades the lambs, and sometimes he gives them in payment for a debt.
This time he will sell them to the trader.
When we get to the trading post the trader looks at the lambs. Then he tells my father how much he will pay. I wonder if the lambs like to have my father sell them to the trader.
My father sells the lambs for hard round money to Hosteen White Man at the trading post. Then he chooses cans of food to put into his wagon, and he gives Hosteen White Man some of the round hard money back again.