Heap Burn

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Title Saga of the Sanpitch Vol 06
Subject Pioneers
Description Stories and poems about early Southern Utah Pioneers
Publisher Snow College
Date 1974
Type Text
Format image/jpeg
Language eng
Rights Management Snow College
Holding Institution Snow College
ARK ark:/87278/s65x272x
Setname snowc_sts
Date Created 2005-02-26
Date Modified 2005-02-26
ID 324158
Reference URL https://collections.lib.utah.edu/ark:/87278/s65x272x

Page Metadata

Title Heap Burn
Description all returned to the clean, in places varnished, meting house. They milled and waited one by one and all together. Somehow, Tabiona felt the time had come; this man, Brother Brigham was soon to arrive. A strange set of wagon tracks marked the street. A swerve to the left and that same mud puddle rested quietly, undisturbed. These tracks led to the front of the scrubbed-clean meeting house and there they ended. The carriage waiting quietly. It must have come while he'd dozed quietly in the shade. A spark of wind gathered up some dust and whirled into all the fury of a miniature tornado and it whipped past him and away. Only then did he realize he was quietly by himself. The early afternoon now found everyone at the meeting house and listening very intensely to the proceedings. He was alone in the shade and the summer wind. Tabiona wasn't sure who or what had arrived to halt the busy lives of these people. Yet for Indian, White-man, English roan, German--all alike--curiosity rules all fears and qualms. He walked across town and found himself near enough the building to peer in and catch a word or two. Still unnoticed, he left his shade and as slowly and quietly as he had been taught, in order to live with nature, he walked nearer the building. A peer and he caught a glance here and there of what seemed to be going on. All were listen-ing quietly, intently, to one man standing before them. "So this is Brother Brigham?" A tall, bearded man in whose face passed many years. How old he was? Tabiona could not tell. It was hard to judge the age of people other than his own, but despite the years, Brigham's voice was crystal clear and so very strong and responding and though Tabiona understood nothing, something of a prickly feeling and sort of an understanding came upon him. He could have returned to his shade and slept, returned to his hay loft, or perhaps to his tribe, family and people, for he was a free Sanpitch Indian. But something prompted, almost demanded him to stay, to listen, to try to understand. Suddenly everyone was singing again, they were always singing even more than his people, but their tones, rhythms, feelings were so different from his native songs. At times they sounded funny to the ear. Quite unknowingly, the meeting seemed to end. A buzz of visiting and greeting began aImost immediately and the entire building turned into one entire handshake. He slipped quietly from the back of the crowd and darted quickly down the street, in and through an alley, and returned to the darkness of a closed barn. Returned to the loft of hay and buried his hands into the dried cleanliness of summer meadow hay and pulled something from its quiet ,csecret hiding place. Bulky, black, not as heavy as its size showed it should be, Tabiona grasped it and returned again to the dirt floor of the barn. With a deerhide moccasined toe, he paused, drew pictures, and scribbles. His thought patterns showed themselves in the powdery summer dust. "Should he or shouldn't he?" always second thoughts. He had observed these people and knew they didn't use it and that they knew nothing of its existence. If he presented it to them, would they value it, think anything of it, or laugh at his native knowledge of the valley? If he did, how would it, if in any way affect this valley of the Sanpitch that he loved and cherished with his heart? -37-
Format image/jpeg
Identifier 047_Heap Burn.jpg
Source Saga of the Sanpitch Vol 6
Setname snowc_sts
Date Created 2005-02-19
Date Modified 2005-02-19
ID 324110
Reference URL https://collections.lib.utah.edu/ark:/87278/s65x272x/324110