The Shooting Star Over Bandolier

By Nell McKeon

“You’d think in New Mexico that it would be warmer even in December.” Kid Curry crossed his arms and pulled his sheepskin jacket closer together as the cold north wind picked up, sending a light dusting of snow sprinkling down from the frosted dark green ponderosa pines.

His partner, Hannibal Heyes, flicked his eyes sideways before tilting his hat up off his forehead as he surveyed the landscape before him. “It’s not the latitude it’s the altitude. You know it just as well as I do. We’re lower than the Colorado San Juans but still pretty high up. You’ll be warm enough when we finally get to Texas.”

“As long as we stay in Texas. I’d rather spend the holidays on the trail than take Big Mac up on his hospitality if the job in the new year has anything to do with Armendariz.” The Kid’s jaw set squarely into stubborn territory as the blue eyes narrowed with no nonsense determination.  

The dark-haired partner chuckled softly to himself. “The telegram doesn’t mention the bust or Armendariz at all.”

“It never does.”

“Look on the bright side, Kid. Big Mac McCreedy is likely to celebrate in style. He specifically said we’re guests for the holidays. You’ll have of plenty good food and drink to cheer you up.”

“Great. He’s adding a bribe before he sends us on some fool and probably dangerous job.” The Kid scowled.

The older partner shook his head in amusement as he flicked up the lapels of his coat to cover the back of his neck. The Kid was right, it was colder than he expected and the wind didn’t help.

“Come on, if we ride at a good pace, we should be able to make the cave dwellings before nightfall. That’s the best place to camp for the night in these parts.”

Curry mounted his bay, mumbling under his breath, “If it’s such good place to be then what happened to all the people that used to live there. Indians haven’t been there for hundreds of years, so it is said. No one goes there unless they’re passing through on the trail like us. And at this time of year only desperados and idiots are on the back trails in these parts. Which are we? Probably both.”

Heyes heard his partner’s low grumbling but chose to ignore it and kicked his chestnut gelding into motion. His brief amusement at Kid’s discontent regarding their upcoming job faded into serious contemplation. The winter holidays were always hard, even more so since they decided to pursue amnesty almost three years ago. Usually at this time of year, Heyes depended upon Kid Curry’s natural optimism and good nature to buoy his own flagging spirit but lately any semblance of good cheer was nowhere to be found. Heyes found it disconcerting and felt a little off balance that he wasn’t the one struggling the most with the depression that resulted from suppressed memories resurfacing amid holiday social customs that surrounded them in every town they passed through.

The partners spent the full day at arduous riding along high country trails. Their warm breath formed small clouds of tiny ice crystals in the cold dry air. The steady progress of miles was accompanied by only the sound of the horses’ rhythmic hoofbeats, the gusts of the cold north wind, and the occasional wildlife call. The blonde gunman abruptly stopped and looked longingly at a nearby passing herd of elk that roamed the Jemez slopes. He instinctively reached for his rifle and took careful aim only to abort the hunting effort at the dark -haired man’s snort.

“Whatcha doing? I mean, I know elk tastes real good but we’re not in Devil’s hole and haven’t been for a long time now. Kinda wasteful for just a couple of meals on the trail. Bacon and beans will keep you full and then you can enjoy a nice juicy steak or a roast that you didn’t have to shoot, dress, and butcher yourself. I’ll even cook and clean up tonight.” Heyes tried to make the meager traveling meals sound like the most reasonable satisfying option. “Besides, we don’t have the time to mess around with the carcass if we want to reach the camp site before dark.”

Silently, Curry returned the rifle to his saddle scabbard and with one last longing glance at the magnificent game he dutifully followed his partner.

The low-lying gray clouds were turning into a blanket of soft pinks, corals, and purples as the two ex-outlaws finally reached the plateau. The scattered flurries had stopped, and the wind died down, leaving a heavy stillness over the pristine white dusted landscape. The towering cliffs loomed into view as the two men rode closer. Brown and blue eyes scanned the cliff face with a critical and evaluating gaze. They had used this location before on their travels as had others. It was quickly discerned from the lack of tell-tale tracks in the snow or other signs of human presence that they were likely alone. Wordlessly, Heyes pointed in the chosen direction.  

The abandoned yellow-brown stone cave dwellings afforded a protected place for themselves and their horses. The older man pushed through the small drifts of snow that formed at the cliff’s base just below a large cave located about fifteen feet from the ground.

Heyes felt compelled to offer a commentary on their familiar routine of setting up camp if only to hear someone talk after hours of silence. “I’ll get our things and climb up into the cave house. You take care of the horses. I don’t see the ladder but hopefully whoever used this spot last has it stashed in the cave. If it’s there and still usable, I’ll lower it down for you. It’ll be easier to bring the stuff up that way.”

Kid nodded and helped unload the saddle bags, bedrolls, and rifles, dropping them to a patch of frozen bare ground. Gathering the reins, the blond then plodded to a nearby large cave at ground level to untack and settle the horses.

After scrambling up the rough rock with a bit of difficulty due to the damp slippery hand and footholds, Heyes spent a minute gathering his breath while he stared with a frown after his best friend. The Kid, while rarely loquacious, wasn’t typically as difficult to engage in casual conversation to pass the time as he had been for the last several weeks. The dark head shook in concerned pensiveness; the aura enveloping the blond wasn’t sullenness, grumpiness, or even discontent at how long the journey to amnesty was talking. No, the mood seemed a profound melancholy. The former Devil’s Hole Gang leader heaved a deep sigh, turned to inspect the interior of the chosen cave dwelling, and smiled when he spotted the hoped-for intact ladder left propped up by a neatly stacked pile of firewood left behind by a previous traveler.

Hannibal Heyes stirred in his sleep. Pulling the blanket up closer under his chin the ex-outlaw rolled over, trying to get back to sleep. Brown eyes popped open with sudden unease and immediately realized his partner’s bedroll was unoccupied. A quick glance around located the Kid, standing at the edge of the cave just beyond the dull amber light of the fire burning low and steady within the cave’s hearth.

The gunman stood tall and straight in the mouth of the elevated temporary dwelling, intently gazing up at the dark sky. The clouds of the day had moved on to reveal a night as black as the darkest velvet studded with uncountable breathtakingly beautiful, brilliant, blinking crystals. Kid Curry seemed captivated at the sight and immune to the crisp, cold air of the New Mexico night. He didn’t take his eyes from the skyward survey but tensed slightly at the sound of familiar footsteps tentatively advancing towards him.

Suddenly, Curry pointed with his right hand while his left reached back to tap his best friend standing just behind him. A brilliantly incandescent star arced across the entire night sky towards the east, briefly Illuminating the high-country plateau.  A soft tenor drawl started to recite slowly but gained in volume and confidence as the words were dredged up from a long-buried time. “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” *

Hannibal Heyes blinked, slammed his dropped jaw closed, and stepped up to stand shoulder to shoulder with his life-long friend. The two men remained in companionship lasting several extraordinary moments. Kid shivered; the singular spell was broken. Heyes handed Curry the sheepskin coat he carried.  He whispered with vaguely uncomfortable bewilderment, “Kid, where did that come from?” while peering sideways.

“From the heavens, Heyes.” A hushed pause befell before the gunman tentatively offered, “Maybe from The Heaven…” He trailed off in embarrassment as he donned his coat.

The older man turned to fully face the younger. His eyes sought his partner’s eyes, but Curry maintained his gaze into the far-off firmament.

“I didn’t mean the shooting star. I meant…”

“I know what you meant, Heyes.”

Several minutes of silence ensued before Heyes prodded, “Are you repenting and finding religion. You don’t usually quote bible passages.”

Kid Curry drew a deep breath and his shoulders slumped. He half turned and studied the man beside him before once again looking out into the night. “When we were little before…you know…when we were young every year there was a Christmas Pageant the schoolkids put on at the Church. It was always a few days before Christmas, like around this time.” He ran a hand through his unruly soft curls. “I was kinda jealous that you got to be a shepherd with the animals and a nice big shepherds crook or one of the wise men bringin’ gifts to Bethlehem.”

Heyes nodded that yes, he reluctantly remembered.

“Well, at first I was stuck being a cherub.” Kid shook his head and gestured to his honey-gold halo of curls. “Probably ‘cause of these. Then, Miss Bello made me the angel Gabriel and when that shining star went streaking across the sky to the east the words I had to recite of Jesus’ birth came to me. That’s what Christmas is all about, Heyes. Not presents, food and drink but faith and family.”

A baritone clearing of a throat betrayed the discomfort on the direction of the younger man’s musings regarding a topic they rarely seriously contemplated. That Curry had been wrestling with internal philosophical existential questions the last few weeks caught Heyes unprepared. The Kid was much more apt to concern himself with practical matters of daily living. “We still have each other. That is all the family I need,” Heyes asserted.

 Kid lifted an arm and laid it across Heyes’ shoulder. His voice warmed with sincerity. “I feel the same way. For that I am truly grateful.”

The dark-haired ex-outlaw murmured more to himself than to Kid, “I have faith in ourselves. Living in our world it’s kinda hard to have faith in a higher power that I’m not sure I believe in.”

“Yeah, I know. But isn’t believing in God or Jesus or a higher being for good without any proof is what true faith is. We’ve lost our faith. I’m not sure I’ll find it again. I don’t know how? I don’t know if I even want to. It’s hard and hurtful when bad things happen. Maybe if I had faith, I could make some sense out of livin’ the way I do. No one would ever put a pair of angel wings on me now.”

The once leader of the Devil’s Hole Gang reciprocated the gesture of true affection and connection between his life-long best friend by putting his own arm around his companion and giving a heartfelt tiny hug.

“We may have lost our way but take it from this wise man we are on the journey to amnesty and maybe just maybe a modicum of faith if we keep bearing gifts of perseverance instead of frankincense, good deeds in place of myrrh, and a little gold wouldn’t hurt. Deep down under that hardened outlaw is a good man. You and I know it and if there is a God, He knows it too. A return to faith, not the faith of our youth or our parents’ faith but a faith from within yourself will come when you believe yourself worthy of finding it.”

“I hope you know what you’re talkin’ about. I think I really do hope you’re right.”

“Trust me.”

He started to steer the blond from the edge of the cave’s mouth back into the warmth of the interior and their waiting bedrolls. “By the way did you make a wish on that shooting star?”

“Yep.”

“Me too, Kid. Me too.”

NOTES:

I had always loved “A Charlie Brown’s Christmas”. The ending is especially poignant with Linus’s speech a lesson/reminder for all Christians at this time of year.

*Linus' King James version scripture reading from Luke 2: 8-14, read:

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this [shall be] a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Bandolier National Monument – If you are ever in the northern New Mexico, I highly recommend a visit to the Valles Caldera National Preserve and Bandolier National Monument.  My family and I thoroughly enjoyed both.

Bandelier National Monument is a 33,677-acre (136 km2) United States National Monument near Los Alamos in Sandoval and Los Alamos counties, New Mexico. The monument preserves the homes and territory of the Ancestral Puebloans of a later era in the Southwest. Most of the pueblo structures date to two eras, dating between AD 1150 and 1600.

The monument is 50 square miles (130 km2) of the Pajarito Plateau, on the slopes of the Jemez volcanic field in the Jemez Mountains. Over 70% of the monument is wilderness, with over one mile of elevation change, from about 5,000 feet (1,500 m) along the Rio Grande to over 10,000 feet (3,000 m) at the peak of Cerro Grande on the rim of the Valles Caldera, providing for a wide range of life zones and wildlife habitats. 3 miles (5 km) of road and more than 70 miles (110 km) of hiking trails are built. The monument protects Ancestral Pueblo archeological sites, a diverse and scenic landscape, and the country's largest National Park Service Civilian Conservation Corps National Landmark District. Two-thirds of the park, 23,267 acres (9,416 ha), is designated as the Bandelier Wilderness Area. Motorized travel and permanent structures are forbidden in the Wilderness.

Bandelier was designated by President Woodrow Wilson as a national monument on February 11, 1916, and named for Adolph Bandelier, a Swiss-American anthropologist, who researched the cultures of the area and supported preservation of the sites. The park infrastructure was developed in the 1930s by crews of the Civilian Conservation Corps and is a National Historic Landmark for its well-preserved architecture. The National Park Service cooperates with surrounding Pueblos, other federal agencies, and state agencies to manage the park.

Life in Bandelier

The Ancestral Pueblo people lived here from approximately 1150 CE to 1550 CE. They built homes carved from the volcanic tuff and planted crops in mesa top fields. Corn, beans, and squash were central to their diet, supplemented by native plants and meat from deer, rabbit, and squirrel. Domesticated turkeys were used for both their feathers and meat while dogs assisted in hunting and provided companionship. By 1550, the Ancestral Pueblo people had moved from this area to pueblos along the Rio Grande. After over 400 years the land here could no longer support the people and a severe drought added to what were already becoming difficult times.


Wapiti/Elk (Cervus canadensis) prevalent in the Valles Caldera, Jemez, NM

Ponderosa Pine