The day comes in almost every person's life that they have to face a trial, a challenge that they have put off for too long ... mine came in the guise of November 29,1997.

I had made all the plans, 2 friends were going to go with me on my 200 mile trip, I had my prayer ties all made, sage ready, tobacco ready, car smudged... when the phone rang, it was Marci ... " Hi babe, I know you're gonna kill me, but Deva is sick, can't go with ya today ... prayers follow you though, and call me when you get back.". Okay I thought that's all right Joy is still going... yeh right ... RING!!!!! "Hi sis ... ( It was Joy)...Coleman has chicken pox, I'm sorry but I can't go with you today... sage burns for ya though, call me when you get back." All I could say was AAAAAWWWWWWKKK!!!

I was expected to go by my two closest friends, and my ancestors were calling me ... soooooo. I double smudged the car and took off, by myself, on a journey that was to change my way of thinking, feeling, and seeing. Off I went to a little town in Colorado called Simla, about 115 miles from my home. My destination was a place called the Lassiter Ranch. It is located along the banks of the Sand Creek, where on that day 133 years earlier, one of the most heinous massacres occurred. 150 Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians were gunned down by the Colorado Volunteer Calvary, led by our illustrious state hero Col. John Chivington. These people were my relatives, my kin, my ancestors. They had come to this place under a flag of truce, and with the United States red, white, and blue flying over the main tepee, they were slaughtered, mutilated, left to die on that cold bitter day, so very long ago, hopefully to be forgotten. But those of us who have their blood running through our veins, feel something, some pull, some force, that calls to us to pay homage on that day, on that ground where they fell. Some of us do ... this is my story of my first visit to that sacred, hallowed place.

There is not much to tell about the drive to the town. It was long ,

tedious, and boring. The plains of Colorado are really not much to look at. Truck stop after truck stop start looking alike, and the coffee all tastes the same. I would look around at these people that were there in the little stores and cafes, and wonder to myself what kind of trek they were on. I had little kids look at me and ask "you a Indian?"of course with my sunglasses on they couldn't see my silver blues ... I would just smile and nod my head. Kids wouldn't understand what my mission was that day, their parents wouldn't either. I had a secret almost, and no one was allowed to know it. 3 hours later I entered Simla, Colorado, home of absolutely nothing, but a Post Office, a café, and what seemed to be hundreds of miles of private property signs, all belonging of course, to LASSITER. This was where I had been told by an elder that I needed to come... that this was the place, this was where it happened, this was where I would begin to find my heart and my soul.

It was lunchtime when I got there, and yes that sleepy little town becomes more sleepy during that hour. I went into the Post Office to ask directions. The lady behind the counter looked at me like I had three heads, and I hadn't even asked a question yet. I guess they don't get many visitors there, especially ones who have rather dark skin, black hair, and a chip on their shoulder. I asked her how I could get down to the creek bed, as I had traveled far and wanted to say some prayers down there. She informed me that it was all posted property and I would have to talk to the ranch foreman of the Lassiter Ranch. I asked her how one goes about doing that ... By this time she had picked up her telephone and was dialing a number. I figured she was calling the police, instead she handed me the phone and said this is Don, he's the foreman. I introduced myself to him, and asked him if I could come down to the Sand Creek to do a little praying today ... silence on the other end told me my answer would probably be NO!!

Instead he said, " I'm on lunch right now, have Emma call me in a half hour and I'll have an answer for you." " Cool ", I said. "Will do, thanks". I handed the phone back to Emma, and all I heard her say to him was "yeh she's alone, no one else is with her."

"Great", I thought, shades of the movie "Deliverance" came to my mind. I asked her where I could grab a bite to eat while waiting and she directed me to the café. I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, my favorite in case I died, and some fries. I filled up my thermos, and the hour was up.

The really neat thing about that was the waitress never charged me for my lunch. She said it was on the house. Yes, I thought that a bit strange, but I was gracious and thanked her warmly, and walked back down to the Post Office.

The cop who was taking down my license plate number kinda looked at me as I strolled back into the Post Office. HMMMMMM. Anyway, Emma was on the phone when I went back in, and handed me the phone. Now you have to picture this folks. These people are not at all talkative. I been around stoic Indians before who talked more than these people did. Don was on the other end of the line, and again he asked," are you alone?"

"Yes sir I am all alone", "are you sure you're alone?" "Yes sir I am sure I am all alone. Don I haven't come here to make trouble. All I want to do is to go down to the wash and pray a little. You know what day it is, and that is why I'm here." It was at that time he said "okay young lady come on over." Shivers went up and down my spine, and I almost turned around and went home, but I didn't. I bravely walked into my new life at that moment, and I have never turned back.

The directions to the ranch were incredible. While waiting for my sandwich at the café I was looking out the window at a lovely spread. While walking back to the Post Office I walked right past the entrance to the ranch. I had been there the whole time and didn't know it. Anyway, I drove down the path that came to the guest house. There is a little museum there. I parked the car, began to open the door, when all of a sudden the biggest, nastiest, ugliest dog attacked my car door. AAWWWWKK!!!!! He looked like a cross between Ol Yeller, and Kujo. I used my best dog training voice, and said "back you cur!!!" I think he understood cause he backed down, sat, allowed me out of the car, and growled at me the whole time. I went into the little guest house and was greeted by a very nice lady who had me sign the guest registry. She asked me all kinds of questions, like how long I was gonna be, where I was gonna walk, how far I was gonna walk ... on and on ... I explained to her that I

had never been there before and that I had no idea how long I'd be, or where I would be walking.

She said they ask that so if anything should happen to me and I was late coming back they would know which area to start looking in. "Oh great" I thought again. She walked me out to the path and suggested that I stay on it and keep it in my sight. I thanked her and began to walk. I made sure that I had my thermos, ties, sage, and tobacco with me. I also decided that I was gonna do a little spirit plate so I took my sandwich and fries down also. Basically, it was that I was covering all my bases, wanting to be sure of making it back to my car safe and sound. I had walked maybe 100 yards when I came to a bend in the path. Stopping, I looked at the drop off, and saw a path there. It had snowed recently and the snow was about 18 inches deep. Suddenly, I felt a wet nose lift up my hand. I looked down and almost fainted... it was the junk yard dog that wanted to kill me before. Now he was acting like my best buddy. He romped away from me down the hill and stopped and barked at me like" COME ON... LET'S PLAY!!!" Well, I decided right then and there that this cur was gonna be my guide that day, and so I followed him through the snow, instead of keeping to the plowed path. Best decision I have ever made was following that dog that day. He knew, he felt, and he did what the ancestors wanted him to do. Lead me, guide me, and protect me.

The moment I stepped onto the dry creek bed, I knew. I felt something, everything. It was as though a door opened up. The feeling of being watched, of hearing things that weren't there, of sensing things that I would in this world take for granted, was overwhelming. The whole time DOG was running around all the trees, sniffing, and barking, showing me things only he saw, jumping up in the air like he was playing with another human, shoveling the snow with his nose. He'd run up to me, and almost run me over, then he'd stop, roll over for a belly rub, and then take off again. DOG never once left my line of vision, nor would he allow me to leave his.

I found a tree that had some very old ties on it, and chose it to be the one I would do my ceremony with. Picture for a moment, cottonwood trees 50 feet tall. Trunks almost as big around as

tires. You would turn and there were young cottonwood trees, tiny, fragile little things whose trunks were the size of a tennis ball. Life still went on there, in more ways than you could ever imagine. The wind whispered in the trees, ancient words that only DOG understood, but that I felt. I did my ceremony, and left the spirit food at the base of this old gnarled tree. DOG went over and was gonna help himself until I said, "NO, that's for our friends, if you behave I'll give you french fries when we get back to the car." At that he left the food alone. I suddenly was over come with the most poignant sadness I have ever felt, and the woman who never cries was sitting on a stump of a tree that was older than time itself, crying her heart out.

What I sensed and felt and experienced that day, was basic human passion. I touched something or someone in that hidden vale who was tied to me in this life, and while I was sobbing into my crossed arms, DOG came up to me, put his head up through my crossed arms, and allowed me to finish crying with my arms wrapped around his neck, and his head leaning over my shoulder. What a gift that was. The greatest gift though was yet to come. As I was still sitting there holding on to DOG, I heard the leaves in the trees rustle with the breeze that was blowing. Naturally I looked up, and held my breath, because, you have to remember it was November, there was not a single leaf on any tree to be found, but the rustling of them, and the music they made was all around me. It was then that I knew my ancestors were there with me, and they wanted me to know it was all right. The tears started all over again, but this time no sadness. What I felt was absolute JOY and LOVE. DOG and I got up and started running all around the trees, playing hide and seek, wrestling in the snow, barking and laughing, enjoying life with my family all around watching and enjoying also. The time to leave was upon us, and DOG knew it.

He slowly started leading me back up the hill, but this time he lead me to the plowed path, and we continued to play and enjoy for the remainder of the walk. I had no idea how long we had been down there, but when we got within sight of the guest house, there were 3 people standing around my car looking at it. DOG barked at them, and they looked up. When I got up to them, I realized they were concerned, and had been getting ready to start looking for me. I had been down there for almost 4 hours!! When I told them they needn't have worried that DOG had been with me the whole time, they looked at me like I had lost my mind. No dog was around, and I said " you know that old rusty colored cur that sits in the driveway. He went with me down there." All they did was laugh, one man finally said "lady, you got that right, he is a cur. Nasty old bastard. Would just as soon bite ya as look at ya. Hehehehehehe" "

He went down there with ya? HAHAHAHA". Well I thanked them, they all went their own way, and I got into the car to leave. The next thing I see is DOG looking at me from behind an old truck parked next to my car. He belly crawled over to me, and I knew exactly what he wanted ... Yup that's right ... the French fries. What else could I do? I fed them to him one at a time, while we talked and reminisced about our adventure. I gave him a hug, he gave me a kiss, and I left, never to see DOG again. But I hear him in the whisper of the breeze through my trees. Sometimes I feel him watching me. I'm sure he is with my ancestors, and they wait together for me someday.

It seems that someone smarter than me has found the real site that the atrocity took place. Maybe yes, maybe no, all I know is that when I go back to my special place there in Simla Colorado, I still feel something magical something wondrous , something authentic. That is where I will choose to honor my relatives from now until forever, if those good people will continue to allow this humble woman access to their property for a few hours a year.

I thank you all for taking the time to share my special journey, I hope you came away with pictures in your mind and heart, and a lesson that you too can walk with every day.

Robyn Scott-McMillen

November 30, 2000