Secrets of the Anasazi

by Sky Whitehorse

  "Fine. Fifty percent is better than nothing. Get on with it. We have a flight to catch."

  Maya came to comfort her after the woman left. "I'm sorry you have to take the brunt of the angry customers, but I'm impressed by how calm, cool, and collected you are. You’re doing great."

  "Don't worry about it. I'm fine," she replied.

  The next customer approached and Maya went back downstairs. She looked into a personal laundry basket that Maya recognized as Ahote’s. She flipped the lid open and started unloading it into the washer. She checked the pants pockets in one of his jeans and pulled out his flute. Strange, he never goes anywhere without this. She put it in her pants pocket to give to him later.

  "Maya," Chantal called down to the basement, "will you bring me some dinner? I haven't eaten all day."

  "Yes, coming." Maya got to the top of the stairs. The line of angry customers stared at her.

  The phone rang.

  "Maya, will you answer that, please?"

  "Okay." She picked up the receiver, almost saying “hello”, but then answered it the way Aunt Roslyn did. "Bed and Breakfast Escape. How can I help you?"

  "Maya," Aunt Roslyn said, "how is everything going?"

  "Um... good," she lied, as she looked up at the people waiting for room keys. The last thing Aunt Roslyn needed was the added stress of work at a moment like this.

  "Thank goodness. I want you to let the family know that your grandmother is in stable condition but she has had a stroke and can't speak. I'll be bringing her back tonight. Just hang in there and thank you for helping."

  "No problem. Give Grandma my love."

  "I will. Love you."

  "Love you too." She hung up and went to grab dinner in the Dining Hall. Upon arriving back, she found Chantal finishing with the last customer.

  "Mm, thanks. I'm starved," Chantal said.

  "Me too."

  Maya filled Chantal in on what her mother had said.

  "Good, I hope Grandma will be okay and my mom hurries back."

  They ate quickly and Maya remembered Ahote's flute still in her pocket. Pulling it out, she said, "Look what I found in the laundry."

  Chantal choked on her water and the pink drained from her cheeks. "He never goes anywhere without this," she said. Putting it to her lips with a solemn expression, she tried to play a note. As she blew, a small piece of white, folded paper sprung free from the end of the hollowed interior. It flew across the table into Maya's lap. She unfolded it to find handwritten scale music inside.

  They looked at it quizzically.

  Chantal tried playing the music on the flute. The short melody didn't seem to be anything special. Chantal played it repeatedly and then stopped, looking frustrated.

  "What?" Maya asked.

  Chantal pulled her hair. "I don't know what it means. What was this doing inside of his flute? Do you think he put it in the laundry where you or I would find it?"

  Maya thought for a moment. "I think it means something, and he knew you would figure it out." She felt the words she had spoken in her heart, and suddenly it made sense.

  "Why wouldn't he just write words, though?"

  It was at that moment she knew without a doubt, like her heart was speaking to her. She grabbed her cousin’s shoulder. " It’s a clue. He didn't want anyone to be able to figure it out, just like when he speaks to Lance in the ancient language."

  Chantal furrowed her brow. "He's never left me a message like this before." There was a hint at uncertainty in her voice.

  Maya shrugged, feeling confident in her gut. "There's a first time for everything."

  26. Ambushed

  Saturday, 6:52 a.m., Day of the Strawberry Moon

  Ahote was awoken with a start, with a hand clasped around his mouth and the edge of a blade at his neck. He had fallen asleep in his chair that faced the western canyons as he did every night.

  He had anticipated this moment, trying to prepare for it, but unsure if or when it would come after finding his way into William’s room to take back the tablet he had stolen from their tribe. It was the only chance he would get before he needed to set off for the reservation that evening to return it.

  Dr. Parker forced Ahote’s head back, speaking low, "Now listen here, Squanto. Your son is due here any minute. Find an excuse to get rid of him. Comprende?"

  Ahote nodded.

  "Good. James and I will be hiding. One false move and your son will be dragged into this. We’re prepared to torch this hut and the stables with all your pretty horses in it if you don’t comply. Don't try playing the hero." He removed the knife, and his hand and backed into the closet with James. He kept the door open a crack and lifted his pant leg to show a gun in his boot.

  Ahote felt his blood pressure rise. He hadn’t taken William for the violent type over the course of time he had been staying there.

  Moments later, the screen door swung open and Warren entered. "Morning, Dad. Ready to work?" Warren looked more tired than usual, but he was still in good spirits.

  Ahote had had a plan A, which was to stealthily sneak off the property with the tablet that he had hidden in the closet that James and William had certainly found after hiding in it. Thankfully he had a plan B. He stood and pulled the flute from around his neck, fumbling with it while trying to act normal. "Warren, I need you to do me a favor.”

  Warren furrowed his brow. "Ok?"

  Ahote grabbed his dirty pants from the floor, put his flute in the pocket—hoping nobody noticed, then placed the pants on top of the pile of dirty clothes in the hamper. He hoped no one in the room took notice. "Take this to be washed."

  "But...” he hesitated, “can’t it wait until the maids come for it?" He approached his father and pointed to the stables. “I need to get started with the horses.”

  Ahote got a whiff of alcohol and the distinct smell of women's perfume. The definition in his face went rigid, like stone. Warren probably had a bit of a hangover, and wouldn’t notice that readily that things were out of sync. "I realize that. I ran out of clean pants and I need them. So, please..." He folded his arms over his chest, getting stern. If Warren found out about the assailants in the closet, he would try to help, and possibly get hurt. Ahote knew he could handle himself.

  Warren frowned, trying to read his father’s expression. "Are you angry?"

  "The young cub does not question the old, wise–"

  "Bear. I know." He nodded but frowned and gave his father one last look before he headed back to the hotel with the hamper under his arm, the screen door slammed shut behind him.

  James came out of the closet and up behind Ahote, tying his wrists together while Dr. Parker held the knife to his back in one hand and hugging the tablet to his chest with the other. “Nice hiding place for my tablet.” After his wrists were secured Dr. Parker tucked the tablet into his backpack. He took notice of the blow darts that were sitting out on the table and stashed them away as well. He smiled like a wolf, tipping his suede cowboy hat. "Let's get moving. We need a horse for James and a horse for you and me to share."

  The men headed out to the stables and got on the unsaddled horses. Ahote sat in front of Dr. Parker on Hototo while James followed on another horse. All the while, Dr. Parker held the knife to Ahote's back. Ahote felt the sharp tip poke him each time his bottom bumped against the saddle. He sat rigid with his back arched and shoulders back, but he didn’t show fear. His face was like wood.

  Given the early hour, none of the hotel guests were up that would have seen anything suspicious. Ahote twisted his wrists against the ropes but they were taut, and when it rubbed against his skin he began to bleed. The horses cantered up to the Valley of Hoodoos, kicking up a trail of dust as they galloped under the arch. James's rode ahead and led the way through the sacred valley full of hoodoos. Their spirits amazed Ahote with their majesty each time he laid eyes on them. After the long ride, they made it to the entrance where the sign above the open canyon read DANGER.

  "Now, tell us what you know of th
is place," Dr. Parker's voice boomed in Ahote's ear. The blade pushed into the hollow of his spine, and Ahote arched his back.

  "It's a dangerous, eroding passage," Ahote replied, trying to keep his tone even.

  "Dangerous, you say?” he asked with a questioning lilt. “What makes it so dangerous?"

  "When it rains, it becomes a mudslide and washes everything in its path into the river below."

  "Oh? It's hard to imagine a little rain being that dangerous, not to mention I haven't seen a drop of rain since I arrived."

  "When it rains in the desert, it pours." His mind remained focused on the sharp pressure on his lower back.

  "Well, the skies are clear this morning,” Dr. Parker said, his tone rich with sarcasm. “How about you show us what's down here. Hup." He tried to steer Hototo into the entrance, but the horse bobbed his head and backed away.

  "The horses will not enter the dirt slide," Ahote told them.

  "Nonsense, my Buffalo Soldier,” he scoffed.

  Ahote felt infuriated by the names he was being called, but he didn’t give William the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to him.

  Dr. Parker continued. “There were horses in the canyon during one of my outings with James a couple months ago. At first, we thought it was only our imagination that we heard horses, but then James and I scoured the area and stumbled upon this entryway that leads to the bottom of the canyon. It’s the only way horses can make it in and out of the canyon, unless they have taken up rock climbing."

  Ahote knew he had been caught. He could feel the spit from Dr. Parker's words on the back of his neck making him feel stomach churn. He turned his face away from him, refusing to reply.

  "What say you, squaw?" Dr. Parker prompted, grabbing his shoulder.

  He tugged at his ropes with no luck.

  Dr. Parker gave Hototo a swift kick. The horse neighed but stood still. He took the handle of the knife and hit it onto the horse's rump. Hototo reared up from the surprise, throwing both riders off. They landed on the ground with a thud; Dr. Parker broke Ahote’s fall. He rolled Ahote onto his stomach and got up in a fury, standing beside Ahote, but turning towards Hototo with the knife. "You damned horse," he shouted. "Get down there!" He motioned to the passage.

  The horse took off in the opposite direction, looking back at his assailant, wide-eyed.

  Ahote could see the gun in Dr. Parker’s boot clearly, but his hands were still tied.

  "If I ever catch up with that horse, I'll cut its head clean off." He looked at Ahote and noticed where his gaze was. He grabbed him by the arm. "Get up."

  Ahote sat and then hoisted himself up with his legs.

  "Hup," James said to his horse with a kick, but the horse turned in the opposite direction. James tried to steer the horse back, but it wouldn't obey. "Damn it." He slid off the horse, giving up.

  "We'll walk." Dr. Parker held on to his captive and they walked down into the dirt slide. Gravel crunched under their feet. The sun shined bright in the early morning; through the passage’s open top, the rocky walls barely cast any shadow. They stopped when they came to some pictographs on the slate before the sharp left in the passage.

  "Tell me about these markings," Dr. Parker said, holding the back of Ahote’s shirt, and pointing the knife at the wall.

  Ahote would never tell what he knew, not if his life depended on it. "They are simple drawings," he replied, looking away.

  "They don't look that simple. In fact, they look similar to the ones used in this letter." Dr. Parker held the letter Ahote’s father had written him before he passed to the afterlife.

  "I have never seen that before," he lied, frowning with emotion like a statue.

  "It looks like a written language to me," Dr. Parker prompted.

  "Hmph. Looks like chicken scratchings."

  Dr. Parker tried to look Ahote in the eye, pulling at his own chin and grinning suspiciously. "I think you're patronizing me. I've learned through James that you taught Lance to read ancient writings."

  Ahote chuckled in the back of his throat without smiling. "That's crazy talk."

  Dr. Parker kicked the dirt and yelled, pushing him against the wall and sticking the blade in his face. "Quit lying! You know these markings, I'm sure of it."

  Ahote shook his head and grunted, still looking down. "You are the learned man, perhaps you know better than I."

  His eyes were ablaze. "Tell me what you know, you crackpot,” he said through gritted teeth.

  "I know nothing," Ahote was quick to reply.

  "James!" Dr. Parker yelled. "Repeat what the letter said."

  James hung his head and combed his fingers through his sweaty blond hair. He took the old parchment from his uncle. "Something about your brothers being jealous of you and how you have to hide the Anasazi City of Gold, the legend, and the tablet. Also, to keep watch for the man that loiters the way the coyote awaits to kill his prey."

  The way James couldn’t make eye contact with him made Ahote believe he felt guilty about what he was doing. Maybe there was hope for James, unlike his uncle—the coyote.

  Dr. Parker snatched the paper and shoved it in Ahote's face. "This looks like quite a bit more than a couple of chicken scratchings, and Lance was able to read the paper flawlessly in a matter of minutes."

  Ahote refused to look at the paper. "The boy was playing a trick."

  "Perhaps... or perhaps you’re playing the trick.” He lowered his voice, putting his face in Ahote’s and fingering the hilt of the knife. “You had better come clean, shaman, or we’re going to get rough.”

  Ahote felt the hair on the back of his neck stand as he called him shaman, but he averted his gaze, the corners of his mouth turned down, and his eyebrow arched.

  “Damn you!” Dr. Parker kicked the sand and turned to James. "We could tie him up and have the horse drag him by his feet.”

  James stood up straight.

  “Bring me the rope, James."

  Ahote tried to make a run for it, his heart racing. This was his only chance to get away now. It seemed like he was seeing things in slow motion as his feet hit the sand. He ran past James, so shaken he could barely breathe. He had to get out. He neared the sign, trying to bolt around the corner, when he felt a sharp pain in his neck. He took a few more strides before falling onto his face. A burning sensation started from the area and spread down his back. He didn’t know what had happened, and then he realized he had been punctured with one of his own darts. His head throbbed with pain. The last words he heard before passing out were from James.

  "Bloody hell, Uncle! You said we were only going to scare him into telling us!"

  ⭐⭐⭐

  Saturday, 7:07 a.m.

  Warren followed his father's request, taking the laundry to the hotel and carrying it to the basement for washing. There were already a few carts of towels down there ready to be washed. He set it next to them and headed back to the stables.

  He grabbed the hose and started to fill the horse trough with water. He planned on staying away from Roy at all costs and focus on getting his work done. He had slept on the couch in the lobby trying to avoid him after the turn of events the previous evening.