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neck as if taking off a head.
    â€œIf we had weapons,” Wise One reminded him. “Now we can’t even protect ourselves.”
    The Comanche continued to steal sheep and horses from the Navajos, who were already poor enough. When the Navajos complained to the soldiers, they were toldthat the soldiers were too few in number to fight the Comanche.
    â€œIf they didn’t use their soldiers to keep us penned up, they’d have plenty to fight their wars,” Kee grumbled. He was happy when he heard that some young Navajo men had slipped away in the night and brought back some of the stolen horses. He only wished he had a horse of his own and was old enough to go on some of these raids.
    Grown-ups took on the responsibility of herding the sheep. They were afraid that the children would be captured and stolen along with the sheep to be sold as slaves.
    By early summer, Small Lamb had nearly grown into a ewe. Hasba renamed her Dawn Flower. When Kee made fun of the fancy name, Hasba said, “Well, I found her just as sun-bearer was coming to the sky. She is beautiful so she should have a beautiful name.”
    Dawn Flower stayed near the shelter with Gray Dog to watch her. Hasba was busy taking care of another small lamb. One of Eagle Feather’s ewes had given birth to twins, and the mother would accept only one. Hasba was happy to receive the cast-off twin, and gave it the same watchful care she had given Dawn Flower. She coaxed Kee to beg a little milk each day at the cowshed for the lamb. Once he said, “I’m afraid Gray Dog will be overworked now with a big herd of two to watch. He will not know which sheep to follow.”
    As summer progressed and the corn and wheat grew rapidly under the Navajos’ care, Kee saw smiles on Navajo faces and heard cheerful greetings from the Diné as they worked together. They were adapting, working hard, determined to make the best of a bad situation.
    But then, in mid-summer, the corn worms struckagain. Crops failed. Gentle Woman and Wise One wept as they walked with Hasba and Kee along their rows of corn, picking the few ears half-eaten by corn worms.
    Kee shook his head in dismay. “The soldiers think they are so powerful, why don’t they fight the corn worms? It’s a much worse enemy than the Navajo!”
    Wise One nodded her head. “There are some enemies that neither white men nor Indians have learned how to fight. Maybe, someday.”
    â€œI think the spirits of this land do not want us here,” Kee said. “Perhaps when we get back to Navajoland, our own medicine men and spirits will protect us again.” When fall came, the reed bins that the Diné had woven to store their grain were empty. A feeling of hopelessness spread among the Navajos.
    Kee reported to his family that some of the Navajos had slipped away in the night. “I heard them whispering together yesterday. They said it would be better to be killed by Comanche or sold into slavery than to live in this land that does not want them. I should have gone with them. Maybe I could have made it back home and joined Father.”
    â€œYour father is dead,” Gentle Woman answered. “If he were alive, he would have come to us. He must have given up by now.”
    â€œGiven up? Not Father! Not as long as he is free.”
    â€œPerhaps he is free—somewhere,” Wise One answered.
    A few days later, as Kee was exercising Smoke, he saw soldiers on their horses bringing in a group of men who were on foot. The soldiers had hunted down and were dragging back the Navajos who had escaped.
    As winter progressed, the feeling of discouragement was even greater than the year before. On cold nights Kee and the family huddled together in the little shelter to try to keep each other warm. Kee realized that without his work with Captain Harris’s horse and the extra food and fuel he received, they might not have made it through the winter.

    With the