They reached Route 666 in good time, turned south between Shiprock Peak and Hogback Mountain, and sailed down through the picturesque Chuskas past road signs that beckoned toward far-off, mysterious places like Toadlena, Beautiful Mountain, Coyote Wash, Nakaibito, Pueblo Bonito (Lovely Village) and Ojo Caliente (Hot Eye).
Kitty made the time pass quickly by singing the praises of the desert, pointing out spots of historic interest, and telling them Navajo legends.
“The Wind People, who ride the lightning, own all of these box canyons and hilltops,” she said half seriously. “No Navajo will build his hogan near such places, or where lightning has struck. If he did, he thinks the Wind People would give him bad headaches.”
“It gives me a bad headache trying to understand why your Navajos love a godforsaken place like this,” Ralph said.
“Your Utes live here too!” Kitty’s eyes flashed.
“Only because white men drove us off our good land farther north,” Ralph snapped. “We put up a good fight before they expelled us, too. My grandfather was one of Chief Douglas’ warriors, back in 1879, when the Utes surrounded and almost destroyed an entire U.S. Army detachment that invaded our White River reservation.”
“The Navajos got their reservation back,” Kitty pointed out.
“Don’t squabble, children,” Hall said and added, to break the tension, “I heard a rumor that you’re going to the Squaw Dance together next week. Is that right?”
Kitty blushed and Ralph nodded.
“That’s the same as becoming engaged, isn’t it?”