House Made of Dawn

The story picks up in Walatowa a week after Abel left Los Angeles. The valley is gray and cold, and the river is partly frozen over. Father Olguin sits alone in the rectory, having found peace in his exclusion from the townspeople. He takes his separation from them as a sign of his piety. On occasion, he rereads Fray Nicolás’s journal, which strengthens his faith.

Since returning home, Abel has spent every day at the dying Francisco’s bedside. On his first two days back from Los Angeles, he also went out and got drunk, but a combination of the cold, his lack of funds, and the lingering pain from Martinez’s beating dissuaded Abel from continuing this habit. In between periods of unconsciousness, Francisco speaks and sings in a fractured mix of Spanish and the native Jemez language. His disjointed speech recalls the race he won as a young man and calls to Abel, Vidal, and Porcingula. Abel wants to help his grandfather, but Abel is in mental pain as well as physical pain: the small room where Francisco lies is where Abel was born and where his mother and brother died. The most Abel can do is keep the fire lit.

For the past six days, Francisco has spoken at dawn. The rest of the chapter relays what Francisco has said in italicized, stream-of-consciousness narration. He recalls bringing Abel and Vidal to the old cemetery by the Middle and teaches them how to measure time by the sun’s position against the nearby black mesa. He imparts that they must live according to the sunrise over the mesa, which will tell them when to carry out important traditions. He emphasizes the importance of traditions, which can easily be lost, and though the boys don’t know the specific rituals Francisco is teaching them, they understand the importance of “the great organic calendar.”

In another memory, young Francisco rides his horse great distances around Walatowa. He climbs a sheer cliff face that his horse cannot scale, and along the way he discovers a cave filled with the remnants of ancient inhabitants. Throughout the afternoon, he continues riding, observing the animals around him and internalizing their instincts and identifying features. In pursuit of a bear, Francisco makes camp, only to wake surrounded by wolves. He raises his gun at the animals but doesn’t shoot, and they keep their distance as they watch him. He continues tracking the bear, until he finds it and kills it with a single clean shot. He quickly but carefully prepares the bear’s body for transport, then rides back to Walatowa with the bear, aware that both he and his horse have come of age.

Francisco remembers a beautiful young woman named Porcingula, who is the daughter of a Pecos woman whom Walatowa’s residents believe is a witch. He and Porcingula have wild, passionate sex, and she teases him about the rumor that he is Fray Nicolás’s son. Porcingula becomes pregnant, but the child is stillborn, and Francisco yields to his community’s dislike of his lover and leaves her.

In the fourth memory, Francisco brings Vidal and Abel to a rise in the plain at dawn, where they listen to the sound of hundreds of men running the race of the dead. The fifth memory takes place during a ceremony for the squash clan, during which Francisco carries the drum for the first time. Despite his anxiety, drumming comes naturally to him, and he becomes attuned to the rhythm of the dancers. When the ceremony concludes, the townspeople celebrate its success, and Francisco feels proud of his “perfect act.” After this, he has a voice in the community and takes on a role as a healer.

The last memory is of a race. Francisco runs too quickly, trying to match the other men’s pace rather than reserving his stamina. He struggles to breathe, but he pushes past his pain and runs after the “motionless shadow” of his competitor.