<< Go Back

Backfill

By Cynthia Soule Levesque

Order Now!

Prologue

Elk Valley Desert, Utah -- A.D. 500
The medicine man hovered over his fallen Indian chief, who lay propped up against a wall at the back of the cavern on a red woven blanket. He was conscious but an open wound festered on his side. Dressed in his full regalia of feather headdress, multipiece gold necklace and figurine-shaped earring, the chief of the Tonfer Indian culture was flanked by two solemn-faced warriors holding spears.

The old medicine man muttered incantations, waved smoke from a torch, and shook a long rattle over the chief’s body. He dipped his fingers into a gray-colored clay pot that sat next to the chief, and began spreading the warm liquid onto the wound. Groaning, the chief turned his head toward the sound of drumbeats outside where Indians danced and chanted sacred songs that invoked healing spirits. Two women glided quietly from the back of the cavern where they lived. Wearing moccasins made from the leg of a mountain sheep, they bore hand-made baskets on their heads with corn and dried rabbit meat. Another woman carried a large skein of water from the underground river.

One tribe member drew stick figures in black charcoal on the cavern walls, representing the chief as he lay with his wound. Pictographs of various scenes of tribal life lined both sides of the cavern hunting rabbits, making clay pots and figurines, planting corn. One depicted a sun dagger at a nearby rock outcropping that marked the summer and winter solstice, which helped determine when to plant crops. Another picture showed the black river that flowed deep inside the cavern, from which they obtained water for sustenance and crops.

Hovering over a fire near the cave entrance, a Tonfer Indian stirred a silvery looking liquid – the same liquid the medicine man was using on the chief. He poured the molten substance into two clay pots, hung them on either side of a pole, and hoisted it onto his shoulders. He carried it almost a mile to the sacred burial ground. A dozen tribe members danced around a burial plot, chanted songs, and arranged clay figurines with colored necklaces. The plot was for the chief, just in case.

Back in the cavern, the chief raised up on his elbow, with difficulty, and called for the guard on his right. He whispered in his ear, and the first guard shouted a command to the other guard, who immediately dropped his spear and ran outside the cavern toward the burial ground to get the others. The first guard ran deep into the cavern, toward the living areas, to find other tribe members. The chief had something important to say and wanted the whole tribe there. Soon, dozens of tribe members came from all directions and stood before the chief. He gestured for everyone to sit down, which they did, pressing close in the cramped space. He began talking.

He talked for an hour. About the Tonfer culture—their life, their legacy—important information that needed to be passed on to the next generation.

Suddenly the ground began to shake. Some Indians stood up quickly and began talking to each other, panic on their faces. Small pebbles and rocks ricocheted through the air. The women who had brought the baskets screamed and raced to find their children. Some clung to their chief while others were afraid to move and froze where they sat, covering their heads with their arms.

The cave walls shook more violently, and the earth began to cave in. The chief signaled, and the two guards helped him stand. He motioned for everyone to rise and began moving slowly toward the cavern entrance, propped up by the guards, followed by the rest. But just as he reached the opening, the cave entrance collapsed with a thunderous roar, trapping the Tonfer tribe inside for all eternity.

Order Now!

<< Go Back