Stanford Washburn attends a prayer service last week at First Wash Christian Church in Shiprock on the Navajo reservation in New Mexico. Photos by John Locher. When Stanford Washburn lived on the Navajo reservation in New Mexico as a young man, he worked at the site of these silos near Shiprock. Stanford Washburn hugs Roger Shaggy, his uncle, as Roselyn Young looks on at Shaggy's home in Shiprock on the Navajo reservation. Stanford Washburn holds his grandson, Ra Shawn Benally, after a family gathering at his daughter's apartment in Farmington, N.M. From left are daughter Cherylene, mother Elise and daughter Shonia. Robyn Rubio Child's condition has been upgraded from critical to good

So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous
right hand.

ISAIAH 41:10, read at First Wash Christian Church prayer meeting

SHIPROCK, N.M.

Inside the First Wash Christian Church, where thin wooden walls only soften the howl and slow the chill of a fierce westward wind, Pastor William Douglas Lee's booming baritone envelops biblical chapter and verse in both English and Navajo to make this point: The strength found by Stanford Washburn and other homeless men to lift a 5,000-pound Cadillac off a young girl in North Las Vegas is "evidence of the supernatural, of the hand of God."

"Praise the Lord," chant the parishioners attending the five-pew church on this sprawling Navajo reservation less than a week before Christmas.

The one-eyed Washburn, warmed somewhat by a pot-bellied stove nearby, listens intently from the last pew as one parishioner after another acknowledges his heroism of Nov. 25.

"We've been praying for Stanford," said church secretary Cecelia Bidtah, who invited him to the service. "A lot of times when he came to church here when he was younger, he would come drunk, so we have prayed for him. He's been gone for years, but we always prayed for him. He's had a rough life because of the alcohol. Maybe now what he has done has changed that behavior."

Nine-year-old Robyn Rubio is alive today at University Medical Center in Las Vegas because Washburn and an unknown number of other transients did the seemingly impossible.

The condition of Robyn, who broke her pelvis and multiple other bones, has been upgraded to good from critical. The child broke away from an adult relative and darted into the path of a car on Las Vegas Boulevard, not far from Lake Mead Boulevard.

Washburn was with at least three other homeless men drinking nearby when he saw the vehicle strike the girl and drag her underneath its chassis for nearly 50 yards. The men immediately began running toward the girl. When Washburn yelled to lift the car, each man dropped his can of Steel Reserve malt liquor and lifted the huge luxury car off the child's body.

Washburn believes the other transients ran away as police approached because warrants were probably out for their arrest.

Clasping his hands in prayer in the Shiprock church, Washburn is wearing a sweatshirt, three coats, two pairs of pants, two pairs of socks and a pair of black shoes -- much the same outfit he wore while living across from the Silver Nugget in a vacant North Las Vegas field strewn with old clothes, dead rats, plastic bags, cigarette butts, beer cans and wine bottles.

A 48-year-old Navajo with three grown children and a 2-year-old grandson named Ra Shawn, Washburn returned to this part of the Navajo Nation after a man who wishes to remain anonymous read about the self-described drunk's role in saving Robyn's life. The Florida man contacted North Las Vegas police and offered to pay Washburn's way home to his family in New Mexico for the holidays.

The 19 1/2-hour bus trip, Washburn said, was not easy.

"I had the worst hangover of my life, and Greyhound lost my luggage," he said. "That man sent me $250 for a bus ticket, clothes, food and a motel room, and I ended up with fewer clothes than I originally had."

After meeting his relatives at the bus station, "I also found out three relatives died, including my 26-year-old nephew, who either jumped or fell off an 80-foot cliff."

Still, Washburn seemed reasonably content last week. He said, and his two grown daughters agreed, that he has not touched alcohol since he arrived in New Mexico on Dec. 8. Washburn also has a grown son, who, like him, is living the transient's life.

While his daughters work, he cares for his grandson, who often tries to see what lies beneath the patch over his right eye. Sometimes he says he lost the eye from a firecracker. Other times he says he lost it from getting hit in the eye with a stick.

"I don't want to embarrass my daughters or mother or frighten my grandson by drinking," he said as he sat in daughter Shonia's apartment in Farmington, N.M., a city of 40,000 people 40 miles east of Shiprock and within sight of Colorado's rugged San Juan Mountains and the desert highlands of Arizona and Utah.

Washburn's other daughter, Cherylene, said her dad often has had the sweats and chills since he stopped drinking.

"It hasn't been easy," she said. "But he knows that if he drinks in front of us, he can no longer stay with the family. We have to worry about little Ra Shawn. My father obviously cares about his grandson."

Even though Washburn's return has been largely positive, it has strained the budgets of his daughters, who live together. Shonia Washburn, Ra Shawn's mother, works in a modest-paying job as a money counter in a casino while Cherylene works as a laborer.

"We felt that we had to buy him some clothes since Greyhound lost his, and now we can't pay for our phones right now," Cherylene Washburn said.

Whether Stanford Washburn will continue to even try to remain sober when he leaves New Mexico is unknown.

"I'm going to go back to Las Vegas to check on the little Rubio girl in about a month -- I have to see her with my own eyes -- and I can't say whether I won't drink or not," he said. "I can't make any promises. I often get depressed, and the alcohol helps me get through it."

Carefully listening to her son, Elise Washburn, who speaks only the Navajo tongue, began to talk. Even her great-grandson Ra Shawn quieted.

Stanford Washburn's sister Daisy translated what their mother had to say: "I am very proud of my son for helping that little girl. We have prayed for that little girl every day since we found out about what happened. I want her to have a long life."

Though Washburn's mother said she has worried considerably since he hit the road more than 20 years ago, after his common-law marriage soured, she said she now believes he has a wandering spirit that must be satisfied.

Every few years -- sometimes as long as seven -- he returns to the reservation after living throughout the West. Known as "chief" on the streets of Las Vegas and "Fred" on the reservation, Washburn generally supports himself through day labor jobs and sleeps outside. Every couple of years he might call relatives.

Some family members, including aunt Ruth Nez, still don't understand why a man with apparent skills -- he was trained in the Job Corps as a mechanic and has worked as a truck driver and handyman on the reservation -- hitchhikes all over the West and ends up homeless.

"I still can't figure it out," she said as she stood outside her tiny Shiprock reservation home. "It worries me. I remember one time he said he had to jump out of a car that he had been hitchhiking in when the man he was riding with put a hand on his leg and said he wanted to love him."

An uncle, Roger Shaggy, worries that one day his nephew will be attacked.

"There are evil people out there," he said. "Stanford is a good man who would never hurt anyone."

Washburn's arrests largely have been for intoxication. He said he also was caught driving while intoxicated.

"He really is a good man," said Sgt. Brad Walch, the North Las Vegas police officer who tried to keep Washburn sober before his trip to New Mexico. "He's always trying to help people."

Washburn admits he is a man of considerable contradictions. One minute he says "religion means nothing to me," and the next he is heading to a prayer meeting. He says he often becomes depressed because he lives outside and doesn't have a good job, but then he says he doesn't want "to be tied down to one place or work a long time at one job."

"I know it can sound strange," he said.

As the Tuesday night service at First Wash Christian Church nears an end, Washburn nods as Pastor Lee looks at him and speaks.

"Even if you receive no gifts for Christmas, even if nobody visits you," the pastor says, "if you will accept Jesus as your personal savior, you have more than enough."

Parishioner Margaret Whalawitsa then shares her thoughts about Washburn and the Navajo culture.

"No matter where our young men go when they leave here, the Navajos know that in our culture we all care for them," she says. "We care and they can feel it. Stanford felt that we wanted him to do what was right in his heart. And he did it for that little girl."