“Behind you!” he shouted abruptly.
Ella dove to the ground just as a thunderous blast came from the bushes somewhere to her right. She rolled to the side, intending
on reaching for her gun, but unfortunately her move dropped her down into a narrow arroyo she didn’t remember was there until it was too late. Sputtering and blowing the sand out of her teeth after landing facedown, Ella rolled onto her back and found her pistol by feel.
Clifford jumped down into the arroyo beside her. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Give me a hand up. I’m going after him,”
she said.
Clifford pulled her up in one fluid motion, turned, and pointed. “Guy with a shotgun, I think. He ducked back into the brush, then I heard him running east.” As he spoke they both heard a powerful engine start up and a vehicle roaring away.
“A diesel, judging from the rattle. I had a feeling I was being tailed, but even though I looked, I never did spot him.”
“I
felt
him—and you.
That’s why I looked up and saw him when I did.”
“What did you see, in addition to the shotgun?” she asked quickly.
“All I got was a glimpse. He was dressed like a lot of Navajos—a straw western-style hat, blue jeans, and a greenish gray shirt. The shotgun was a pump.”
“I don’t know how he managed to stay hidden. I circled around and double-backed, looking and listening. But I never saw him.”
“Then that tells us something else. Judging from the way he trailed you, he
knows
our land,” Clifford commented. “And he’s as good a tracker as you are.”
“Let me go take a look around, then I’ll catch up to you again in a few minutes.”
Ella went to the area where the shooter had been, and found the place where he’d taken cover. The impression left on the hard ground was barely discernible, and
the smooth footprints
showed he’d either worn flat soles or moccasins. There was nothing to find here, not even a heel mark. He hadn’t ejected the shot shell, and having used buckshot, it would be almost impossible to find or trace.
Clifford stood and waited for her as she called it in on her cell phone. Minutes later, they were hurrying back, Clifford anxious to make sure Loretta was all right.
His pace was difficult for Ella to maintain, but she kept up, her breathing steady.
“What brought you here today?” Clifford asked as they ran alongside each other.
She told him about the missing agent between breaths. “I have to find the
hataalii
who did the Sing. All I know is that it entailed a blackening.”
She told him about the blackened animal fat she’d found in the hogan, and everything
else she knew. As they got within view of his home, and they saw Loretta out back bringing in laundry from the clothesline, Clifford slowed to a walk and Ella followed suit.
Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out the evidence pouch with the bit of animal fat. Since the ritual itself wasn’t part of the investigation, it wasn’t official evidence. “This is what I found. Does it tell you anything?”
He nodded. “That’s used for an Evil Way. It’s a special mixture of mutton and deer fat that’s mixed with ball charcoal. It’s powerful medicine against the
chindi
and it’s used in a one-day ceremony. What you have in your hand is the blackening agent that’s used on the patient. Afterwards, he’s not supposed to wash it off for four days, which, come to think of it, should make it easy for you to
identify him. He’ll have a line drawn on his face that goes down from his ear to his jaw, then back up to his other ear.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. Who does that kind of ceremony?”
“Hastiin sání
and his son,” he said, using the Navajo expression for “old man” to refer to John Tso. Traditionalists still held the belief that names had power and to use them would diminish the person spoken about.
“The father was the one who did the Sing for you, remember?”
“Of course. You know it’s remarkable that anyone that age can remember every word of a Sing as complicated as that one. It’s the equivalent of the entire script to a very, very long movie.”
“The gods have shown him favor,” he said.
“Would either of those
hataaliis
use that particular hogan?” she added, describing the one she’d seen
and giving its location.
“The two I mentioned have their own medicine hogans. But it’s possible that particular hogan belongs to the family of the patient, or a relative, and they wanted the ceremony done there. It happens that way sometimes.”
“I need some leads. Can you ask around and try to get me the name of some of the people who attended the Sing?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“In the meantime
I’ll speak to the two men you mentioned. Can you give me directions to their homes?”
“Sure.” Clifford gave her the information she needed, then pointed to her unit, which was across the road from where they were standing. “Looks like you’re not leaving right away. You have a flat tire—no, two of them, it looks like, both on the left side.”
“Crap. Must have picked up some nails on one of the
back roads I’ve been on today.” But as she got closer Ella saw that someone had punctured the sidewalls with a knife or screwdriver. “This is the last thing I need now,” she hissed. Time was slipping away from her and, more importantly, from Agent Thomas.
“I’ll help you change them. You’ll be out of here in ten minutes, if we hurry.”
“But I’ve only got
one
spare,” she said.
“Take my pickup,
then,” he offered. “We still have my wife’s car.”
Ella shook her head. “Need my radio. How about if I just take your truck spare? It’s a different tread and width, but the right diameter. That and my own spare will do the trick.”
“Okay. Let’s get to it,” he said.
“Can you start while I go around back to ask your wife a few questions just in case she saw something?” Seeing him nod, Ella tossed
Clifford her keys so he could get to her spare and jack.
Ella questioned Loretta but she hadn’t seen anything. While ironing she’d heard a vehicle stop outside. By the time she walked to the window to see who it was, the car was already gone. Later she’d also heard a shot, but had assumed someone had been hunting. After that she hadn’t heard a vehicle go by, so the suspect had clearly used a
different escape route.
Wishing Loretta had been more observant, Ella hurried to help Clifford. The sun was low in the sky and would be setting in a couple of hours. If Agent Thomas was still conscious, he was in his own version of hell by now. His moods would swing like a pendulum between fear and hope, each having its moment, then slipping away, leaving him with only his will to live. But that
too would desert him eventually, no matter how strong he was.
Ella helped her brother with the second tire, then thanking him, was soon back on the road. As she headed for the main highway, Justine called.
“I’ve got the results of the blood test, and the type matches Agent Thomas’s,” Justine said quickly. “We’ll get a confirmation through DNA tests, but that’s going to take longer even though
I called the FBI and they’re putting an emergency rush on the job. Right now I’m trying to identify tire marks, and go over the evidence we found in and around Agent Thomas’s car.”
“I’ve got two possible leads on the medicine men who might have done the Sing,” she said, explaining. “Can you take Ben Tso while I question his father?”
“I could do that, but that’ll mean that no one will be here
processing the evidence.”
“Where Ralph Tache?” Ella asked.
“He’s working on the photos, then he’ll be figuring out the sequence of events based on the foot and tire prints.”
Ella exhaled softly. There was never enough manpower and that always became even more apparent during a crisis. “Is Sergeant Neskahi around the station? I’m going to recruit him for this case.”
“You’ll have to wait until
this evening, Ella. Joe’s testifying in court right now.”
Frustration bit at her, but she pushed the feeling back into a dark corner of her mind. “I’m on my way to see John out by Four Corners. He doesn’t have a phone, so I have no other option. Tache’s work is less critical than yours, so have him go speak to Ben. The son lives closer to the station, north of the Nenahnezad Chapter House, but
like his dad doesn’t have phone service.”
Off the Navajo Nation, phone service was taken for granted even in most rural areas. On the Rez, a lot of people still did without it because they didn’t have a telephone line in their area, or money for the monthly bill. “With luck, he’ll reach Ben’s place and get answers before I turn off the highway. That may save me a long trip down another bad road,”
Ella said.
“But Tache’s working on the photos right now and he’s in the darkroom … .”
“Interrupt him and tell him I need him to talk to Ben,” Ella snapped, then took a deep breath. “If we don’t find Agent Thomas soon, the Bureau’s going to send in an invasion army. Once that happens, whatever chance we had of finding Thomas will disappear in a flash.”
“I’ll go get Ralph,” Justine said.
I
t was nearly 4:30 P.M. now. Ella drove northwest farther into the Rez toward Teec Nos Pos. John Tso lived in the extreme northwestern corner of New Mexico beside the San Juan River. The quickest route there lay in going just west into Arizona, then turning northwest on Highway 160. Just before the turnoff leading to the Four Corners monument was a dirt track leading southeast. Down
that road was a shallow valley between rocky mesas where the river flowed out of Utah, cut across the tip of Colorado, then into New Mexico.
After his former home by Rattlesnake had burned to the ground last winter, Tso had moved here. The house stood alone just above the river in the narrow bosque. Because of the location, Ella was sure that his electricity came from a generator, but at least
he had a well, being close to the water table.
Ella pressed on the accelerator, trying to eat up the thirty-five or so miles of good road before the turnoff. The high speed gave her the illusion of progress, and she found it comforting. Miles became a blur but soon she had to slow down as she passed through Beclabito, the last significant New Mexico community before entering Arizona.
The country
around here was higher in elevation, with many more junipers and a few piñons, small hills and sandstone cliffs. The reds and browns in the soil contrasted with the dark greens
of the low, wide trees, and even the grays of the brush were beautiful. Farther ahead, to the north, the area right around Four Corners itself was flat and dry, almost expressionless.
Despite the seriousness of the situation,
Ella couldn’t help but smile, recalling the many times she’d roamed around the countryside in this area as a child. She’d sneak away chasing rabbits while her father preached from a big tent and served lunch to anyone who’d come to sit and listen to his Gospel.
Ten minutes later, as she turned onto the dirt track that led back east toward the river, Tache called over the radio. “You’re going
to the right place,” he said.
“Hastiin sání
did the Sing. I just spoke to his son.”
“Thanks.”
After ten minutes of a sand and rock roller-coaster road that rarely let her use anything but low gear, and conscious of the fact that she had no spare tire now, Ella reached John Tso’s place without incident. His cinder-block house stood at the edge of a dry plateau just above the narrow bosque of
willows and brush that lined the river. Mountains rose in every direction except the southeast.
A large medicine hogan stood about fifty feet from the main house, closer to the river. Sheltered from the westerly breezes by a low embankment was a peeled cottonwood log pen holding about a dozen sheep. If there was a dog, she couldn’t see any sign of it.
Noticing smoke coming from the hogan, Ella
parked in line with the blanketed entrance, then got out of her unit and leaned against the door so he could see her clearly. Custom dictated that she wait, but as the minutes ticked by, her impatience grew. Agent Thomas was in a life-or-death situation, and after racing over here, being forced to wait out of courtesy seemed inappropriate—and dangerous.
After the longest five minutes of her life,
Ella decided to throw convention to the winds and began walking toward the blanketed doorway. She’d only taken a few steps when she reconsidered, stopped in midstride, then returned to the SUV.
She knew better. A disrespectful approach would get her
nowhere, and if wasting five minutes now would save a day’s searching later, she’d just have to stay still a while longer.
Another two minutes passed
and John failed to appear. Ella was certain that he knew she was there. She’d seen the blanket in the doorway billow out and part slightly as she’d started toward the hogan. John had probably noted her impatience and decided to teach her a lesson in manners by making her wait some more.
Ella weighed her options carefully. It was time to get creative. Reaching inside her unit, Ella pulled out
her clipboard, then began walking around, searching the ground and occasionally crouching down and pretending to take notes. She’d only done that for about a minute or so when John Tso came outside.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Ella smiled at the medicine man, whom she suspected was in his nineties. “I was studying the plants around here,” she said. Noting his annoyed expression, Ella knew
that seeing her approach his hogan uninvited
had
angered him. If she wanted him to cooperate, she’d have to find a way to put him in a more receptive mood. Otherwise, he might choose not to give her the name of his patient or any other information pertaining to his Sing. All things considered, getting him to tell her anything at all was bound to be tricky. He’d probably taken Agent Thomas’s intrusion
on the ceremony as an affront and wouldn’t be eager to interfere with whatever punishment the gods had meted out.
“You’re lucky to have so many plants around here that are good for grazing, like blue gama and winter-fat,” Ella said.
“You remember such things?” John asked, surprised.
Ella nodded. “When I was a little girl, my mother taught me which were the best plants for grazing sheep and
goats. She even encouraged me to put the pieces of each in my mouth. I discovered one in particular that tasted really salty. When I told Mom, she smiled and told me that it was because the sheep peed on them. I spit that plant out so fast, I nearly gagged. Then I saw my mother laughing and realized she’d only been joking.”
John laughed. “I know your mother, and that’s her, all right!”
He cocked
his head toward the hogan. “Come in. We’ll talk inside. Even a small breeze chills these old bones of mine.”
Ella followed
hastiin sání
inside, taking the woman’s place on the north side, and accepted the warm cup of herbal tea he offered her. Though she was anxious not to waste time with pleasantries, on the Rez these rituals were far from inconsequential.
“Uncle,” she said, using the name
out of respect, not kinship, “I’m searching for an FBI agent who I believe may have intruded on one of your Sings. A red-haired Anglo man.”
“Yes, I know who you mean. He showed up uninvited at a ceremony I was conducting in a medicine hogan that belongs to my patient’s family. Someone spotted him watching from behind a tree and two of the men went up to chase him off.”
“What happened to the
agent?”
“I didn’t see. My patient and I remained in the hogan. But that
bilagáana
made a very big mistake. My Sings have a lot of power so everyone there with the right attitude can benefit. But if the prayers aren’t said exactly right, or if something disturbs the harmony, then bad things happen and the gods aren’t always quick to forgive. You know this, your brother is a Singer like me.”
“Who was your patient?”
He shook his head, dismissing her question. “I don’t have to answer that”
Ella said nothing for a while, staring instead at her lap, deep in thought. At long last she looked up. “Uncle, unless I find this agent, the federal government is going to send in dozens of their law-enforcement people. If they come in, there’ll be no peace or harmony for anyone, and it could go
on for weeks. This has happened before.”
John nodded, then considered it carefully, sipping his tea. “I know nothing about the
bilagáana,
but my patient’s name is Melvin Rainwater,” he said in a hushed tone, respecting the use of a proper name. “His family has used that particular hogan before, I was told, but I don’t think it really belongs to them,” he added, shrugging. He looked down and noticed
a spider crawling across
the dirt floor. Finally he looked up again. “I suppose I’m partly to blame for this trouble. I should have stopped the Sing after the men spotted the intruder. Everyone was really angry about that and I knew it was dangerous to continue. But my patient insisted. It would be improper for me to interpret the effectiveness of the Sing, but my patient will know soon enough.”
Ella knew that Sings were sometimes repeated, or other ceremonies performed if the problem persisted. “What else can you tell me about your patient? I’d like to find him so I can talk to him.”
“His clan is Red Running into Water—Táchii’nii, and he was born for the Cove of the Mountain clan—Dziltl’ ahnii. The man is in his twenties, with short hair and a wide nose that looks like he got it broken
a few times. His Navajo is better than most young people speak today, and his English is very good.”
Ella wrote it all down in her memo pad, then looked up. “Is there anything else you remember?”
He shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me much about himself, only that he really wanted the Sing done. After the ceremony was over, he apologized for the Anglo government man. He said he’d known that
the man wanted to talk to him, but never expected him to show up at the Sing.”
“Did your patient tell you
why
the agent was looking for him?”
“He didn’t say and I didn’t ask,” John answered.
“Who else attended the Sing?”
He shrugged. “I assumed they were all members of his family and friends, but I didn’t know any of them. They wouldn’t have introduced themselves to me using their Anglo names,
so I can’t really answer your question. But there’s just no excusing what that Anglo agent did. We need to be free to carry on the traditions of our people without interference from an ignorant
bilagáana
who thinks a gold badge is all the authorization he needs.”
“Thank you, Uncle, for taking time to talk to me.”
A few minutes later, Ella was on the way back to the station. She hadn’t had more
than a bite to eat since early that morning, and she was starving. She didn’t remember if there was a fastfood place in Beclabito, but Ella consoled herself with the thought
that she’d be back in Shiprock within the hour and she’d be able to grab something then. From the looks of it, she’d be working nonstop through the night unless they got an unexpected break.
That, of course, brought up another
problem. Ella reached for her cell phone with one hand and called home. A moment later Rose answered. Over her mother’s hello she could hear Dawn chattering in the background.
“I already know why you’re calling,” Rose said softly. “You won’t be home until late, right? Your brother said you were looking for someone. I promised not to mention it to anyone, so don’t worry about any gossip, daughter.”
“I won’t have anything resembling regular hours until this man’s found. His life is on the line.”
“I understand, and so will your daughter. Would you like to speak to her?”
“Yes, please.” Ella heard footsteps on the kitchen floor as Dawn ran to the phone. A moment later her daughter’s excited voice greeted her.
“Mommy! Guess what? I got to ride
bareback
today. Boots led Wind around the corral
and I was able to stay on even when we trotted! Then she let me go around on my own three times.”
“Good for you!” Ella said, wishing she could have been the one to give Dawn her first bareback lesson. Before Dawn could chatter on, Ella got serious. “Pumpkin, I have to work late tonight and maybe tomorrow too. Someone’s lost and I’ve got to help find him.”
“Okay.” Dawn said, then added, “Can
I ride Wind one more time before dinner?”
Ella sighed. Sometimes she had the distinct feeling that if Dawn had to choose between her and Wind, the pony would win. “Ask Boots,” Ella said, referring to Dawn’s baby-sitter, “and your
shimasání,”
she added, using the Navajo word for “grandmother.” “Whatever they say is fine with me.” Ella heard Dawn drop the phone and run off to talk to Boots.
A
second later Rose picked up the receiver. “She really
does
miss you,” Rose said gently, guessing what had gone through
Ella’s mind. “It’s just that she knows you’ll be home sooner or later, and, in the meantime, she has Boots and me. Remember that time doesn’t mean as much to her as it does to older folks like us.”
“Mom, if something comes up while I’m working on this case and you find that neither
Boots nor you can stay with my daughter, call her father and ask him to help.”
“We’ll manage. Don’t worry about us.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
The sun was resting atop the Carrizo Mountains when a pale brown or gold SUV passed her at high speed, racing east. A blinding glare reflected off the rear window, and even though she’d been wearing sunglasses, Ella had to take her foot off the gas and concentrate
to keep her unit in the lane. With bright dots still dancing in her eyes—much like the aftereffects of a flashbulb—she looked ahead, hoping to catch a better description of the SUV, and maybe the license plate.
The vehicle—from the size and shape a Ford Excursion—was still accelerating, and Ella saw it whip around and pass a pickup loaded with firewood less than an eighth of a mile ahead. The
glare must have blinded the pickup’s driver as well because he hit the brakes hard and swerved, wobbling in the lane and spilling a dozen or more split logs onto the highway. The chunks of wood struck the pavement at forty-five miles an hour, bouncing and flipping end-over-end like bark-covered footballs.
Ella tapped the brakes heavily, trying to slow enough to maneuver around the logs, which
bounced randomly all across the highway. She had to pull hard to the right to avoid a particularly large chunk tumbling right toward the center of her onrushing vehicle.