Changing Woman (17 page)

He walked her to the side doors. “Normally, I’d love sharing some pizza, but I’ve
got a meeting with Blalock. I’ve had a tough time hooking up with him today, but
he’s agreed to meet me at the Totah Café in a half hour.”

“In that case, we both better get going.”

Ella phoned home to let them know not to cook supper, then picked up a pizza on the way. The smell of pepperoni and melted cheese made her mouth water. Her mother usually avoided these kind of meals. She was convinced
that half the problems on the Rez could be fixed by banning the sale of all fast food, even fried chicken. Nothing encased in cardboard appealed to her in the slightest.

As Ella walked in the door, Dawn let out a squeal and ran toward her in her half-stumbling fashion.
“Shimá,
pizza!” Dawn carefully took the big box from Ella and with Jennifer’s help carried it to the kitchen.

Ella smiled at
Jennifer. “Gee, I think I’m running second place to pizza these days.”

“You realize that kind of food isn’t good for her,” Rose said, glowering at Ella.

“It’s just one meal,” Ella protested, placing a slice on Dawn’s plate, cutting it up into tiny pieces, then allowing her to eat it in front of the television set.

As soon as her daughter settled down, Ella joined Jennifer and Rose in the kitchen.
“I need to talk to you both,” she said. “I have to attend the Chapter House meeting tonight,” she explained. “I’d like you to stay a while longer,” Ella added, looking at Jennifer. “Can you manage it?”

Rose chuckled. “I’ve already asked her to stay.”

Ella looked at Rose, surprised. “Did you know I’d be going?”

Rose gave her an exasperated look. “No, daughter, but
I
intended to go to the meeting,
and I wasn’t sure when you’d be home.”

“Why are you going?” Ella asked, still trying to figure it all out. “You usually skip them unless there’s a question that affects us directly.”

“The issues that will be discussed there tonight
will
affect all of us, daughter. I’m going. I intend to keep up
with what’s happening on our land. A friend will be picking me up in an hour.”

“Who?”

“Bizaadii,”
she answered.

Ella recognized Herman Cloud’s nickname.

“Oh, well, good for you,” she said lamely.

Her mother was going on a date. The news shouldn’t have taken her by surprise, but despite the fact that she knew Herman was perfect for Rose, she just wasn’t ready for this on an emotional level, not just yet. Ella took three slices of pizza and placed them on her plate, encouraging her mother
and Jennifer to help themselves.

The world around her was going insane, but it wouldn’t benefit any of them to meet it on an empty stomach.

Ella left shortly after dinner, knowing she’d arrive before the meeting began. She told herself that the reason she was leaving home early was to gather information. She wanted to hang around and eavesdrop on the unguarded conversations of people when they
first arrived.

But deep down she knew she was lying to herself. The truth was that she would feel strange seeing her mother driving off with Herman for the evening, and she was determined to hide her feelings from Rose until she learned to cope with it. Her mother deserved to start living her own life again. She’d remained alone for too many years already.

As Ella got out of her unit, she saw
Cecelia Yazzie waving at her.

“I’m surprised to see you here tonight, Ella,” she said coming over to join her. “Your mother comes once in a while, but I don’t remember the last time you were here.”

“I was told that police protection was going to be discussed, and the chief felt that we should be here to explain what we’ve been doing.”

“That’s a really good idea, but you might have a fight on
your hands. I don’t think the police will have many friends here tonight.”

Seeing another acquaintance drive up, Cecelia waved at the other woman and with a quick good-bye to Ella, hurried away. Ella noted the relief on Cecelia’s face as she left, and suspected she’d been happy for an excuse to put some distance between them if the department was going to be on the hot seat.

As Ella approached
the group of people clustered by the front door, no one said hello, made eye contact, or even nodded, though she was well known in the community. She realized then that her first impression had been right on target. People were intent on avoiding her. It was irritating to have the public treating her like the plague, but she kept to herself, not speaking to anyone and, instead, listened to the
snatches of conversations going on around her.

It wasn’t until nearly everyone was inside and seated that she saw Mrs. Yellowhair, the late senator’s wife. Ella looked around for Big Ed, and spotted him slipping in a few minutes later. He gave her a nod as he took one of the few remaining seats in the back.

The meeting opened with the Pledge of Allegiance, with everyone standing and participating.
Ella was reminded again how patriotic the
Dineh
were, especially the elders, but there were a lot of modernists in the gathering tonight, and they were equal participants.

The Navajo equivalent of a town meeting evolved into a report and discussion of the latest incidents of vandalism and the rising cost of auto repairs and insurance as a result of those events. With many Navajos unable to afford
insurance, the price of a new windshield seemed astronomical.

Ella noted that the speakers, taking their turns, spoke English, mostly, and probably considered themselves non traditionalists. As talk shifted to the role of the police the discussion grew heated, and people began interrupting
each other, a form of behavior usually not present on the Rez except when emotions ran high.

Then one man
stood up and the room fell silent. He had a presence that commanded the attention of everyone. Ella recognized Rudy Brownhat as a member of the Fierce Ones, the traditionalist group that, until recently, had held a lot of power on this part of the Rez.

As he looked around the room before speaking, the silence was nearly absolute. “This entire crisis has tested us,” he began. “But instead of banding
together to identify these criminals, we’ve allowed the incidents to divide us. That has weakened us far more than the actual crimes ever could. The
Dineh
have survived through the generations by working together as one and that’s what we need to do now.”

Cecelia Yazzie stood. “I don’t think the problem has anything to do with a lack of unity. Most of us have day jobs and, at night when we’re
tired, that’s when the vandals hit. What we need is a strong police force, but the protection we’ve been given so far is weak and ineffective.”

Ruth Tsosie stood up then, taking the floor. “I think our police department needs new leadership—someone like Lieutenant Manuelito, perhaps. My niece lives over in Window Rock and she tells me that he’s found ways to stop the lawlessness. His district
is quiet and peaceful. No one dares stir up trouble there. Although other places on the Rez are having problems, the Shiprock district is, by far, the worst.”

Ella hadn’t planned on speaking, but she couldn’t let this slide. Big Ed didn’t deserve to be shown so little respect. Manuelito was a grade A jerk and if he’d had success curbing crime around Window Rock, it was mostly due to luck, and
because communities in that part of the Rez were totally different from theirs. Shiprock was a much bigger population center.

As Ella stood up she felt everyone’s gaze shift to her. “Everyone here has been quick to complain, but it’s time
to set the record straight. Our local officers have all been working double shifts, putting in long hours because we just don’t have enough manpower to deal
with everything that’s been happening. We’ve given up time with our families and done our duty because it’s our job. But we need—and deserve—community support. We want people to keep their eyes open and report suspicious vehicles and individuals. If we work together, we can stop what’s been happening.”

“We’ve called you,” one woman challenged, “but by the time the officers show up, it’s all over.”

“Our police department is on a shoestring budget, and because we don’t have as many officers as we need, we’re spread too thin sometimes. That’s why we’re asking the public to take a more active role,” Ella answered. “Try to get descriptions of the vehicles and the drivers, so that when an officer arrives, they have something tangible to go on.”

“So the heart of the problem is that there aren’t
enough police officers, and that’s due to lack of funds?” Brownhat asked.

“That’s it in a nutshell,” Big Ed said, standing. His deep, resonant voice commanded respect, and the room grew silent. “We’ll do the best we can with what we’ve got, but we need the support of the
Dineh.
The way things are now we can’t do it alone.”

Mrs. Yellowhair stood up and, in the cool, calculating manner of a politician,
waited, looking over the crowd and making eye contact. “What Chief Atcitty has just told you is a hard fact we all have to face. The tribe has had to cut the budgets of nearly every branch of government. No one needs to be reminded that this has been a hard year and many of our people have needed help with food and heat for their homes. Those efforts have depleted our treasury to the point
where, now more than ever, the basic needs of the
Dineh
are not being met. That’s what finally convinced me that we need a new source of income, and that it’s time to institute tribal
gaming. Until we do, we’re going to be facing one crisis after another.”

Ella saw the exchanged glances and nods people gave each other. If there was one thing that could be said for Abigail Yellowhair, it was that
she knew how to work a room.

“With the additional funds well-managed gaming would provide,” Mrs. Yellowhair continued, “we’d have enough money to hire more officers and give them better equipment and training.”

“Throwing money at the problem is an Anglo way of thinking,” Brownhat said.

“We need additional police officers and firemen, but we can’t hire them. Money—or more specifically, the lack
of it—
is
the real problem,” Mrs. Yellowhair argued. “We expect miracles from our police officers but they’re human beings and no one can be at their best when they’re outnumbered and exhausted.”

Rose stood up and Ella stared at her mother in surprise, not having seen her come in earlier. “Gaming could bring in more money for the police force—a very good thing, since they’ll need even more officers
to combat the rise in crime that accompanies casinos and onearmed bandits,” Rose said, her voice strong and insistent. “Some
will
get rich—and our tribe may have bigger bank accounts, but it will be at the expense of others—some who will lose everything pursuing their get-rich-quick dream. That’s not living in harmony. How can anyone walk in beauty knowing that’s the path our tribe will be walking
down?”

As her mother continued speaking, Ella saw a side of Rose she’d always been too close to notice before. Ella knew how much others respected her mom, but it was clear that Rose was a force to be reckoned with. No one seemed inclined to argue with her—a sentiment Ella sympathized with enormously.

“It’s true that we need to find money to meet the needs of the
Dineh,”
Rose continued. “But
let’s not do that by
destroying the very people we’re trying to protect.” She looked at Mrs. Yellowhair squarely. “Our tribe can find other ways to get the funds we need. There are federal programs, grants, and loans available if we choose to ask for help—programs supported by the taxes we all pay. But, in the long run, part of the answer lies in demanding a greater share of the profits from the
fuels and natural resources that leave the
Dinetah.
And if the outside companies mining our land refuse, then we have to take over those businesses and run them ourselves.”

When Rose finally sat down, it was quiet for some time. At length Mrs. Yellowhair stood up again. “Okay, Chief. Talk to us. How bad is the situation in the police department and what kind of financial support do you need right
now?”

“We believe that the vandals are monitoring police radios, so we need to raise money so our officers can be given scrambled cell phones. This
will
give us an edge—one we need very badly.”

“All right. One way or another, I’ll see that you get them.”

Ella wondered if it would just turn out to be another wannabe politician’s empty promise. Yet, as she studied Mrs. Yellowhair’s expression,
she came to the conclusion that if it didn’t happen, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying on her part. The woman had made some powerful friends as the wife of a former state senator.

Ella stood up to speak again, but before she could open her mouth an explosion rocked the room, rattling the windows so hard some of them cracked. Excited voices rose and filled the room as chaos ensued.

Ella worked
her way to one of the windows, aware of the scent of burning fuel that now filled the air. A large fire lit up the parking lot and grounds outside.

Weaving through the panicked crowd, Ella left the building and drew closer to the source of the explosion. Through the black cloud of billowing smoke, Ella could see Big Ed’s brand-new white pickup engulfed in flames.

As Big Ed rushed past her carrying a fire extinguisher, Ella ran to stop him. It was already too late to salvage the truck. Flames reaching the gas tank had caused the explosion. Two broken beer bottles on the gravel and a familiar scent told her exactly what had happened. Bottles filled with kerosene and plugged with rags set on fire had been hurled against the truck.

Realizing how hopeless
the situation was, Big Ed never activated the extinguisher. Instead, he turned and moved to help her keep people away from the fire. His face was drawn and his eyes glittered with anger. “Don’t worry about the truck now, Shorty. Just help me keep everyone back.”

Ella knew that this incident had been calculated to produce the most damage—not only to the vehicle but to Big Ed’s reputation as well.