I built yoyos, racecars, stuffed dolls, and wooden menageries.My birthday was on December twenty-fifth; and starting the eve of my fifth birthday, I would wait up for Santa. But I never made it. I would be asleep on the sofa when he arrived. I could swear that in my dreams I could hear hooves on the roof and jingle bells in our tiny living room. I felt a hairy kiss on my cheek that night.The next morning, I woke to find both a Christmas and birthday gift from Santa. It was always something I really wanted or needed. It was also something my poor parents could not afford.This stymied my mom and dad. They had never really believed in Santa, but they came to accept that someone was being Santa to me each Christmas morning.As I got older, all my friends stopped believing in Santa, but not me. I kept my belief secret from my friends. They would just tease me and spoil my faith.When I was eleven, I went through puberty. My mother sat me down and spelled out the “Facts of Life”. I learned. A sapling they had already chopped down was propped against a tree near the road. One of their men was standing atop a rise, watching for the wagons. When he waved, they pushed the sapling so it fell, blocking the road.I almost jumped out of my skin when Little Deer and Flower waved at me from twenty feet away, letting me know they were both back. Little Deer signed that the Ute and Arapaho warriors were already behind the men on both sides of the road and would attack when the first shot was fired, either by me or by the bandits.I thought about it, wondering if it was right to take preemptive action against the bandits. They hadn’t done anything illegal yet. Then again, I heard them making plans for what they would do with all the money. I watched them set up an ambush when their scout announced our wagons were only minutes away. I decided that dropping the tree across the road, knowing our wagons would have to stop, qualified as the beginning of their attack. I wasn’t going to wait.
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