But what trouble the Tewas of [San Ildefonso] did have! There suddenly came another outburst of [pueblo] rebellion in June of 1696 and the people of San Ildefonso burned their beautiful church which had been built for them by the Spanish with Indian labor, sweat, blood and taxes. Two priests were caught in the burning building as well as several other Spaniards. There they all perished. The San Ildefonso [Tewa] have a legend and a belief that they should always move to the south and never to the north. But someone wanted the pueblo moved to the north. And so there was a contest between good people and sorcerers, and the sorcerers won by witchcraft. The pueblo was moved to the north. The San Ildefonso people believe that this is the reason why they had pestilence and famines, and why their people decreased in numbers. Such trouble they had!
Could it be that during these trying and troublesome years at the close of the seventeenth century, some of these heart-sick and war-weary Indians decided that life back on the high forested [mesa] tops or in deep [canyons] to the south where their ancestors had lived, just a century before, would be better than this? Could they tear themselves away from their brethren at night and sneak south, back into the hills and down into deep canyons protected by high vertical cliffs, even into Hidden Valley? Spanish soldiers on horseback could not find them here. They could not follow the old Indian trails. Perhaps those known as the “good people” of [San Ildefonso] were so opposed to moving their [pueblo] a little to the north that they refused to have any part in this plan and preferred moving far to the south.
To assume that such a move took place would not be folly even if we had no supporting evidence. Families could have removed themselves to the hills of the [Pajarito]. Here Hidden Valley offered them protection. It was deep in the south country and water had returned to the creek. The drought period was over and there would be water from the heavens again. The old abandoned dwellings in Frijoles [Canyon] were in ruins. Roof timbers had rotted and walls had fallen. These were the homes of their ancestors. But with very little work these homes could be made livable again. And so, in a remote section in the lower end of Frijoles, the Indians again went to work in a group of rooms high above the floor of the Canyon. They were a quarter-mile from the ruins of the Long House and [Puwige] which were in open sight.
Like true cliff dwellers in [prehistoric] times they rebuilt old homes into new ones. Rooms were cleaned out. The old roof structures were removed from the inside. Loose building stones were removed from the broken-down walls. And the cave rooms above were also cleaned out. Indian men again cut pine timbers for roof poles with crude stone axes. They rebuilt walls and laid the poles over the tops. Indian women mixed mud—good hard [Tewa] mud. They brought in clay from nearby [arroyos] or from the [Rio Grande] and raised their [talus] houses two stories high. Some of the caves, after a hundred years, had eroded beyond use. Doorways and fronts had fallen. Indians gathered fallen building blocks strewn along the base of the cliff which had been fashioned by their ancestors. They built artificial fronts to the caves and plastered them over with mud. Fine clay mortar was smeared over the floor and rough surfaced walls. Doorways were built in the front walls of houses. Ladders were built. A corn patch was planted. Game likely was plentiful now. Black volcanic glass was chipped into sharp arrow points. A deer or two were brought in triumphantly from a hunt. And they created new homes for themselves and brought life back to Hidden Valley while their kin and kind struggled on and on with Spaniard and [Navaho].
Safe at last, they lived again. Corn was harvested in the fall of the year and shucked and stored. Indian women ground corn on old worn [metates] left there a century before and the men again chanted away in time with the beat of a drum which echoed between steep [canyon] walls. Baskets were made of juniper and [yucca]. Blankets of fur and feathers were sewn together. Stout cord was twisted from the fibers of yucca. Indian women made brooms of grass tied with corn husks and yucca fiber to sweep their sooty rooms, while brown-skinned babies rolled in the dust. Gourds were scraped and made into utility vessels and Indian women again carried water in urns on the tops of their heads from the little creek far below.
It undoubtedly took some readjustment to live in the cliffs again after a century of acculturational contact with the Spanish. Just how many Indians or how large a group returned to the [Canyon] homes is not known. But by this time we see that the Indian had acquired a few things from the Spanish either by trade or thievery. This little group brought with them pieces of metal and wooden objects of possible foreign origin, objects brought in by the Spanish to the [Rio Grande]. One such object, which we found, was a two-pronged pick of viburnum, elaborately carved on top with a sharp steel blade. It was not much longer than a hair-pin and reminded one of such. Its use is still puzzling. And the Indians brought woolen cloth which was definitely post-Spanish. The Spaniards had brought the sheep to New Mexico. The weave of the cloth was such that it could not be mistaken. Could it have been from a Spanish garment or was it Indian-made? It is even possible that these people were wearing woven garments of wool when they reoccupied the Frijoles.
The little community was a poor one. There is no doubt about it. The Indian made fire in the same old way with fire drills. A blunt round piece of wood was turned so fast in the groove of a flat piece of wood that fire was produced. These people used cultivated tobacco at this time—a variety never before discovered in the Southwest of this early age. During a moment of temptation, the writer rolled a cigarette from part of this Indian mix which he found buried in a small red bowl. He smoked it without any ill effects. It looked like tobacco, smelled like tobacco and tasted like tobacco. Discarded fragments of pipes were found which had bowls of hard wood burned through. [Moccasins] of deer skin sewn together with sinew were found. Could they have been made in Frijoles [Canyon] or were they brought into the valley by these Indians? Whichever was the case, they were worn out. One pair was half-soled—not like our half-soles today, but on the inside. A new piece of [buckskin] had been cut and fitted and sewn to the inside of one of the worn-out moccasins which had been discarded.
The chirp of a turkey hen or the gobble of a gobbler created a dead silence in any primitive household. The calls echoed and could be heard for a half-mile. Even today, we stop and listen and follow the call just for a glimpse of the wild turkey. It is exciting. A tenseness of nerve and muscle envelops a person. An Indian father crept noiselessly down the steep slope to the valley far below—stopped, listened—not a sound but the whining of the wind through the high tops of pines or the caw of a raven flying high above, or the rolling waters of the little river. Following again and picking each step, bow and arrow in hand, ready to draw, he stopped. The turkeys were coming closer and behind a rock he hid or laid close to the little river out of sight. They were almost upon him, feeding peacefully on grasshoppers and bugs. A well directed arrow would mean meat for the whole family. That the Indian used only the feathers of the turkey is an idea of the past. The broken food bones are found in the ruins of ancient homes. Besides using the meat of the turkey for food, the Indian used the feathers for ceremonial purposes and strips of turkey feather spines made excellent wrappings for making arrow guides.
Such was life in Hidden Valley after the conquest of New Mexico by the Spanish. Living in the [Tyuonyi] at this time was apparently a necessity. It could again have been our Tewa-speaking friends who raised corn, beans, squash and pumpkins in the beautiful and colorful Valley of the Frijoles and who watched the sun, day after day, pass down behind the cliff to the land of [Sipapu]. But time again had a way of making things right, though not just as the Indian desired it. After the close of the seventeenth century, it seems, Frijoles was abandoned again. The Indians left their cliff homes and moved back to the Valley of the [Rio Grande]. There was little trouble with the Spanish from then on and the Indian wars were over and all were subdued and the ancient homes in Frijoles continued to crumble and walls continued to fall. A little time was all that was necessary to completely cover the abandoned dwellings. Howling winds beat sharp particles of dirt against crumbling walls and eventually filled them in and covered them. Deep [kivas] were no more. Small stones, boulders and dust fell from the cliffs covering up [talus] houses. Huge slides covered many homes and the wind and rain beat against the vulnerable cliff walls and eroded many of the caves almost beyond identification. Indian occupation was ended now but Hidden Valley still remained. The Rito de Los Frijoles continued to cut its course deeper and deeper through the soft volcanic ash as it had done through six hundred years of Indian living. Struggle had ended over the Tyuonyi. It was deserted to the ravages of time. To the south the [Keres] were settled now, and to the north the Tewas. They were content; and Hidden Valley was left alone.