Johnny Rustywire

August 19, 2016
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
There was a call. One of those you don’t like to hear. Ashie’s sister called him from Phoenix and said that their mother Nahgebah was in a bad way and that it looked like her time had come.
August 02, 2016
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
Burnham Junction was dry; there had been no water all summer. The sagebrush was a dull gray; the sun had baked the color of straw out of it.
July 23, 2016
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
The Pony Soldier Motel on Route 66 was just around the bend to East Flag—as in Flagstaff, Arizona, called Kinlani in Navajo. There are a lot of rooms in that place.
July 12, 2016
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
Old Man Kee Bedonie sat down at the small wooden table at his place and looked out through the screen door to the east as the sun set and from there the colors of the rainbow appeared, turning everything gold, yellow, orange with a tinge of purple...
June 08, 2014
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
What were their names? I can't remember their names.
August 17, 2013
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
It was summertime in the Chuska Mountains on the Navajo rez and everyone was living up in their sheep camps. There were some boys who had put in a full day of work and were heading back down to the valley below. It was 1968.
July 31, 2013
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
Hoskie woke up and could hear nothing and so he sat up. It was early, before light, still dark outside. He walked slowly to not make a lot of noise and could see that his wife was still sleeping and he decided to let her sleep.
July 10, 2013
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
One spring a few years ago, the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) set up a wild horse roundup in Eastern Utah. I was doing some title search work and found myself one morning riding out with the wranglers who would be catching and rounding up the...
June 29, 2013
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
It used to be that when Indians left the reservation to head into town they always seemed to get the short end of the stick.
June 11, 2013
BY:
Johnny Rustywire
It was long ago at a place not too far from Winona Trading Post along the Turquoise Trail where you came across a muddy wash that each Spring roared to life with the rain and it washed over the land so fast it raced down to a place where it cut...