Changing Woman (22 page)

“Is it true,
then, that you’re hoping to step in as chief of police in Shiprock if there’s a change in leadership?”

He gave her a cold smile.
“If
there’s a change?” He shook his head. “I think that’s a foregone conclusion. Most people will readily admit that the need for radical changes on the Rez has arrived, especially in this area.” He paused, then added, “Now tell me something. Did you come to verify
the rumors so you could protect your own interests, or did someone send you to check up on me?”

Like most ambitious men, Arthur assumed others plotted and schemed as he did. “Neither. I came because a man of influence will overhear many things and I was hoping to get your help.”

“I’ll certainly let you know if I hear who’s behind these crimes.”

Arthur stood, his way of ending the interview,
when the young man she’d assumed was his employee entered from an adjoining room. With the door open, Ella saw what could have only been a fifty-caliber rifle displayed in a glass case on the opposite wall of a game room. Without waiting for an invitation, Ella stepped past him to take a closer look at the weapon.

Almost as long as the nearby pool table was wide, the enormous telescope-equipped
bolt-action weapon had an adjustable synthetic stock with a hole at the hand grip, and was resting on a sturdy bipod attached to the forward end of the stock. At the muzzle of the long, heavy barrel was a massive muzzle brake.

“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” the younger man said, coming up beside her. He offered his hand. “I’m Robert Benjamin, Uncle Arthur’s nephew.” He smiled. “I was a gunner on
an APC while in the army. Of course, the fifty-caliber weapon I used then was a Browning machine gun.”

She studied the long-range target rifle, wishing she had a court order so she could have it test fired and a ballistic comparison done. “What do you use a weapon like that for these days?”

“Special competitions held by the Four Corners Gun Club. It’s for ultra-long-range targets, out a thousand
yards or more.”

She nodded, and looked closely, trying to spot any indication that it had been fired recently. The weapon looked pristine, with few signs of handling beyond some vague scuff marks on the stock.

“Would you like to take a closer look at it?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind,” Ella answered.

He unlocked the cabinet and carefully lifted it out with both hands. As she took it from him, she
realized it weighed more than thirty pounds. “Wow, this is some weapon.”

“Have you ever fired one?”

She laughed. “No, this kind of firearm was not included in my law enforcement training.”

“It’s fun to shoot. I’ll be glad to take you to the gun club sometime and let you give it a try.”

Ella checked the action and receiver, but the weapon was spotless. If it
had
been fired recently, it had
also been thoroughly cleaned and lubricated since.

“Even assuming you fire from benches or prone, and that the muzzle brake brings the recoil down to a manageable kick, how accurate can anyone be with something this heavy and cumbersome?” she asked.

“You’re correct about the technique and mechanism,” he said. “But to answer your question, I’ve won my last three shoots at a thousand yards.”

“How much competition is there around here for such a specialized sport?”

“More than you’d think, though fifty-caliber weapons are generally too expensive and intimidating for most shooters. Right now I’ve been meeting up with three other regulars, all Anglos from the Farmington/Bloomfield
area. They’re all ex-military, like me.”

Ella considered asking for their names, but she wasn’t quite ready
to tip her hand yet. She glanced at Arthur, who was eyeing her with renewed curiosity. It was impossible to tell exactly what he was thinking.

“Your interest in this particular weapon,” he said. “Is it professional or personal?”

“Both,” she answered honestly. How much more personal could it get than having someone try to blow her head off?

“I’ve seen my nephew shoot. He never misses what he’s
aiming for,” he said with a smile.

It wasn’t family pride etched on his face. It was something else, but Ella couldn’t quite put her finger on the emotion.

“Well, I’m sure that we’ve taken up enough of your time, Investigator Clah. We don’t want to keep you,” Arthur said.

Ella nodded. It would be a pleasure serving this guy with a search warrant.

Ella was driving toward the station ten minutes
later when her cell phone rang. It was Justine.

“I thought you’d appreciate a heads-up. Brace yourself,” Justine said.

“Now what?” Ella asked, feeling every muscle in her body tensing up.

“Keep an eye out for the tribal paper today. A friend of mine works in production, and called to tell me that Victor Charlie brought in a cartoon everyone thought was so hilarious they put it in today’s edition
in place of one he’d already done. It features the image of a woman some say resembles your mother, though it has the usual disclaimer to avoid lawsuits.”

She felt a sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach. “Any idea what the cartoon’s about?”

“No, she told me that she wouldn’t scoop her own
paper, but that you’d be very interested. And Jaime Beyale also wrote an editorial based on whatever
it was Rose said to Victor. Apparently, he spoke with her earlier today. My understanding is that the editorial and the cartoon will run together.”

Every instinct Ella possessed told her she wasn’t going to like this. Her mother had always been a quiet person, but these days it was like living with a stranger with a familiar face. She just wasn’t sure who Rose Destea was anymore. And that bothered
her more than she would have ever dreamed possible.

Ella drove to Clifford’s home. She needed to talk to him about their mother. She had a feeling he’d appreciate some advance warning on what was going on, too. The truth was that right now, she could use his insight. He’d always been closer to their mother and she just wasn’t sure how to deal with Rose anymore. Ella was certain that if Rose kept taking on the progaming factions, she’d
soon find herself in way over her head. Yet Ella just didn’t know whether she had the right to say anything about it to her mother or not.

When Ella arrived at her brother’s place she saw him standing outside the entrance to his medicine hogan talking to a patient. She waited in her unit, not wanting to interrupt him, but a moment later his patient left and Clifford waved for her to approach.

It was ice cold inside the medicine hogan and she longed for the warmth of the house, but she didn’t say anything as he put away the herbs and the bowls he’d used to prepare infusions.

“I’m glad you stopped by, sister. We need to talk,” he said.

Ella wondered if he’d heard about Rose, too. “What’s up?”

“I was very disturbed by the news you shared with me when you called earlier today. I don’t
like the idea of Anglos being hired to come in and disrupt us here on our own land. Then, finding out that an Indian hired them...” Clifford shook his head in disgust. “To me, that’s the worst kind of betrayal.”

“I agree with you. Even if we find out that he’s not a member of our tribe, he shouldn’t turn on other Indians.”

“I’ve spoken to several people this morning trying to learn something
you can use without betraying what you told me in confidence. There’s plenty of talk about what’s going on, but I’m not sure how reliable it is. Some believe that traditionalists are now facing a carefully orchestrated effort meant to undermine our influence over the tribe.”

“What do
you
think?”

“That our people desperately need someone to blame and when they find out the Anglos responsible
were hired by an Indian, all the factions here will start blaming each other. That’s going to end up creating even more division and confusion.”

“I wish there was a way to bring about a solution. What our people need now is a real leader,” she said.

“Our mother is being seen as one of the traditionalist leaders. Did you know that? People admire her for holding on to her beliefs even though she
married a Navajo who followed Anglo ways.”

“She was always her own person. But tell me, what do you think of her outspokenness lately?” Ella asked.

“I’m not really sure what to think,” Clifford answered slowly. “It’s her right to do and say whatever she pleases, but I’ve always seen her as our mother, not an activist. It’s hard for me to switch gears on that now. And, to be honest, I worry about
her safety. I’m not sure if she realizes what she’s stirring up, and the danger that may put her in.”

Ella said nothing for several long moments. “I believe Mom knows exactly what she’s doing, but I don’t think she fully understands what the price could be.” Ella exhaled softly. “I hate this. I want our old mom back.”

Clifford smiled sadly. “That’s not going to happen. For years she kept a low
profile because it was the easiest way for her to live with our dad. But with both of us grown, this is her time, and she intends to follow her
own heart now. You’ve noticed that she’s been spending some time with our old family friend. I think it’s good for her, too.”

Ella nodded, thinking of Herman Cloud. He and Clifford, both traditionalists, had great respect for each other, so it seemed
only natural that he would be more likely than she to approve of Rose’s growing friendship with the man.

They remained quiet for a few minutes, then Ella brought the conversation back to business. “How do the other Fierce Ones feel about all the petty crimes we’ve been having around the Rez? Have you heard anything from them?”

“We’re no longer the strong force we used to be on the
Dinetah”
he
said sadly. “Too many of us have been hit by hard times. When people have to struggle to stay warm and put food on the table, everything else becomes less important. Several of the Fierce Ones have had to move away to get jobs, even off the Rez. Others are simply too busy with second jobs, trying to make ends meet, and taking care of their families. Though many traditionalists feel like traitors
for even thinking about it, some are starting to consider the advantages gaming could offer the tribe. Face it, sister. When your stomach is so empty it hurts, and you’re cold, you learn to make compromises and accept second choices.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But I really resent people like the late senator’s wife,” she said referring to Abigail Yellowhair. “She’s using the tribe’s hard times
to push her own agenda.”

“You’re judging her too harshly. Like her husband did, she thinks strictly in practical terms.”

Ella thought of the conspiracy that Coyote had mentioned. It was possible that Abigail was playing a role in that. Until she knew more, she couldn’t afford to rule out anything or anyone.

“Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you,” Clifford added. “Your marshal friend stopped by.
He asked for my help
in getting word out to the traditionalists that a fugitive, that Manyfarms boy,” he said using the name of an enemy freely, “is in our area.” He paused. “He’s also very concerned about you. I could hear it in his voice.”

Ella looked at her brother and suppressed a smile. Clifford was fishing. He wanted to know what her relationship with Harry was. “I worry about him, too.
He’s a good friend.”

“But one no longer living on our land,” her brother said, looking at her carefully. “He comes and stays until his business is done, but his path is out there—away from us.”

“He lives his life the way he sees fit,” Ella said, trying to sound logical instead of emotional. “We all do.”

Clifford said nothing for several moments. “Be careful, little sister. Heartache can come
in many forms.”

Lost in thought, Ella didn’t reply right away. As her gaze fell on a Navajo rug her mother had woven years ago for Clifford, she suddenly realized that she hadn’t mentioned the newspaper article yet. “Mom’s going to be the subject of a cartoon and editorial,” she said, telling him what she knew.

Clifford cringed. “This evening’s edition?” Seeing Ella nod, he added, “What’s it
all about?”

“I don’t know. Our second cousin—my partner—got a tip but there wasn’t much in the way of details. That’s what worries me.”

Clifford smiled. “Because when it comes to Mom, you’re beginning to hate surprises?”

“You’ve got it.” Ella took a deep breath. “I better go. Today’s edition should be out by now.”

“Let me know what you find?”

“Sure.”

Ella left her brother’s hogan and drove
to the closest convenience store. The paper had just been delivered. Ella sat in her unit, scanning the issue, and it took just a few seconds for her to find what she was looking for.

What caught her eye first was the cartoon drawn by
Victor Charlie that was at the top of the editorial page. In a parody of a wagon train being attacked by Indians, he’d sketched Anglos in stereotypical mafia suits
riding SUVs around a hogan and shooting flaming arrows. A caricature resembling Rose was in the center, rushing around with a bucket of water trying to put out the arrows that had struck. The cartoon caption read, ’The gaming issue heats up.”

Ella closed her eyes, then opened them again slowly. Unfortunately, the cartoon was still there. Farther down the page was an editorial by Jaime. In it,
she cited an “unnamed source” who’d speculated that the gaming question had spawned an Indian mafia. The editorial then explained the recent lawlessness on the Rez from that basis. Jaime ended her article by stating that the cops were at a loss because they were outmatched—the twins of poverty and crime had banded together, becoming a formidable force.

Ella stared at the short piece, knowing
in her heart where Jaime had gotten the information about an Indian syndicate. Rose must have inadvertently leaked information pertaining to the case. She’d taken the rare bits and pieces she’d learned from Ella at home, formulated her own theories to explain what was happening on the Rez, then used that to support her antigaming stand.

Blaming herself more than her mother, Ella drove directly
home. This time, they’d have to talk. Rose had the right to say whatever she wished but, as the mother of a high-ranking cop, she had to use more discretion.