Nasbah’s Rescue

By Catherine Grace Jones • Illustrated by Bob Dorsey

Nasbah raced ahead and peered over the rim of the canyon. The cool water of the wash sparkled in the midday sun. The green grass danced in the gentle breeze, and Nasbah could see her grand-parents’ hogan and the sheep corral near the wash.

Nasbah smiled. Every year, when it was time for Grandfather to move the sheep down from their winter grazing site on the mesa, he always waited until a Saturday so that his grandchildren could help. This year, Nasbah was old enough to help, too. This year, she could work beside her older brothers.

As the flock approached, the sheep bells tinkled sweetly. Grandfather’s three sheepdogs ran beside the sheep, turning back stragglers.

Nasbah ran past Grandfather and her brothers to the back of the flock. She’d told her mother she wanted to make sure the lambs made it down the steep trail to the bottom of the canyon.

“Just make sure my lamb makes it safely,” her mother had said, tousling Nasbah’s hair lovingly.

As the sheep slowly picked their way down the trail, Nasbah heard Grandfather singing in Navajo. She loved to hear him sing the old songs, especially the ones about nature. Sometimes when she was at school in Chinle, she was afraid she’d forget the beauty of this canyon and the wash below.

Ahead, Nasbah heard frantic bleating as one of the sheep lost its footing on the rocks and fell. Nasbah held her breath until she saw it land on top of some others on the trail below. All the sheep made a terrible noise for a few moments until they recovered from their surprise. Nasbah scurried down to free one lamb’s front hoof from a crack in the rocky trail.

When the flock reached low ground, Nasbah helped drive the sheep into the corral. She lingered to watch them as Grandfather and her brothers walked to the hogan for some of Grandmother’s tasty fry bread.

It was hard to keep track of the squirming, shaggy bodies, but Nasbah counted the lambs. One, two, three, and there were the twins, six, seven, eight, nine, ten—only ten? There had been eleven lambs when they’d started out up on the mesa.

Nasbah counted again but could find only ten. She looked over toward the hogan, but everyone was already inside. She thought quickly, then decided it wouldn’t take her long to search for the lamb. She could come back for help if she needed it.

Nasbah raced back to the rocky trail. She retraced her steps but saw no sign of the missing lamb.

She listened carefully, the way Grandfather had taught her. She heard the whirring of insects, the singing of birds. Far away she could hear the cry of a hawk.

But then she heard another faint sound—the bleating of a lamb! Nasbah scrambled up the trail toward the sound. She looked down into a crevasse in the rocks and saw the missing lamb standing at the bottom. He could not get out.

Carefully, Nasbah lowered herself into the crevasse. Although the rock faces were almost smooth, they were close enough that she could brace her back against one side and her feet against the other, then shinny down. The lamb didn’t seem to have any broken bones, but he was scraped from sliding down the rock, and he was scared.

Nasbah took off her jacket and wrapped it under the lamb’s belly. Then she zipped it closed over his back so that he wouldn’t slip out. She tied the sleeves of the jacket around her neck to keep her hands free. Slowly, she pulled him up.
“You’ll be all right, little lamb,” she kept saying to him. His sweet lamb smell tickled her nose, and she could feel the frantic beating of his heart against her chest.

Little by little, Nasbah inched her way back up the crevasse. She almost lost her balance one time, but she tightened her legs and used her hands to push up. When she reached the top of the big rocks, Nasbah pulled herself and the lamb back up to the trail. She sat for a minute to rest and to soothe the lamb by stroking his head.

“We’re almost home now,” she whispered to him.

Then Nasbah picked her way down the rocky trail. Just as she reached the bottom, she saw her parents, grandparents, and brothers all heading toward her.

“What happened?” they called.

Mother reached her first and nodded when she saw Nasbah with the lamb.

“My lamb has rescued a lost lamb,” she said proudly.

Nasbah grinned as Grandfather took the lamb from her. They all headed toward the hogan, and Grandfather began to sing:

Everywhere I go myself
May I have luck.
Everywhere my loved ones go
May they have their luck.