Blackening song

by Thurlo, Aimée

  "This bomb threat sounds like another way to scare people off. I'm going over there to take a look. The bomb squad's been alerted?"

  Rose nodded and stood. "I'm going with you."

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  Ella didn't like the idea of her mother being anywhere near a bomb, but she disliked the idea of leaving her alone at the house even more, especially since it seemed no one would come to help if she called. No one but Wilson, Peterson, and Herman Cloud, she reminded herself. But guarding Rose was her job, not theirs.

  "This is also my business," Rose continued softly. "It's your father's church. I'll go, either alone or with you. That choice is yours."

  Ella sighed. "All right. Let's go, but please, if there's any trouble, promise me you'll stay back and let me handle things."

  Rose nodded her acquiescence.

  As they drove quickly to the site, Ella's thoughts were centered on Clifford.

  "Where is your brother hiding?" Rose asked.

  "Near the new church site," she answered, momentarily unnerved by her mother's perceptive question.

  Rose closed her eyes and remained very still for several long seconds. Finally she glanced at Ella. "They don't know where he is," Rose said calmly. "They're just hoping to draw him out. You have to warn him."

  "I will."

  The dry countryside passed by quickly; the telephone poles looked like fenceposts at the speed she was going. Her mother glanced over to the speedometer once, adjusted her seat belt, and didn't look again.

  When they passed through Shiprock, Ella whipped through traffic like she was on a Los Angeles freeway. Fortunately, there were no police cars around.

  Something odd was lying by the side of the road near the turnoff for the church construction site. The smell reached them about the same time as they realized that it

  was the bloated corpse of a cow. Very dead, the distorted beast lay on its side, eyes open, staring at nothing.

  Minutes later, Ella parked a few hundred yards from the newly set-up construction foreman's trailer and made a visual search. "The police aren't here yet, but it looks like the area's been completely evacuated."

  Ella opened her car door, but remained inside. Suddenly the cry of a child pierced the stillness. The sound made her heart lodge in her throat. "Stay here."

  "No, don't go. Wait for the police." Rose's expression was one of wariness.

  "I have to go. You heard that. There's a little kid in there. I'll watch my step, don't worry."

  "It's more than that. Something feels very wrong." Rose looked around the site cautiously.

  Ella stayed still, her gaze darting around the area. There was danger close by; her mother was right. A familiar, unmistakable sensation washed over her. It made her skin prickle, like the electricity that charged the air before a lightning strike or a big bust. Something was going to happen, but she wasn't sure what that something would be.

  "Stay here," Rose repeated sternly.

  "I can't." Ella left the truck, weapon in hand.

  As she approached, Ella listened carefully for the child, or for anything that would indicate a trap. She wouldn't linger. She'd check out the place fast, grab the kid, then get the heck out.

  Ella crept steadily toward the trailer. The opened door creaked in the breeze. It looked like the crew had left in a hurry. The all-enveloping silence around the place was unnatural and set her nerves on edge.

  She stood still for a long moment, considering turning

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  back, then heard crying. The sobs were soft, somehow muffled.

  "Who's there?" The crying stopped abruptly. "Don't be afraid."

  She took another step forward—then threw herself to the ground as she heard a sharp crack. The trailer exploded with a vicious, ear-shattering thump, sending a million particles of steel and metal into the air. The blast rocked the earth beneath her, expanding air buffeted her. Bits of searing-hot metal rained down on her. She held her arms over her head and rolled desperately away from what was left of the trailer, trying to protect herself from the merciless steel rain and incendiary heat.

  Through the ringing in her ears, Ella thought she heard a child's singsong voice ring out, then mean, childish laughter.

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  "That isn't going to be easy/' Ella answered.

  Hearing sirens wailing in the distance, Ella turned to see flashing lights approaching on the gravel road. Two minutes later, three squad cars came to a screeching stop about twenty yards from them.

  Peterson Yazzie was first to emerge from the units. Staring at Ella in surprise, he jogged over to her. "What are you doing here?"

  She briefed him quickly, omitting nothing.

  "A child?" he asked skeptically.

  "Or a trick. Your guess."

  "What's yours?"

  "A trick."

  He ran to the other tribal police officers, who were fastening on flak vests. Ella saw the wary look on the men's faces as he spoke to them. Well, at least they'd search carefully for more bombs, just in case any were still hidden or unexploded.

  Peterson returned. Ella said, "If you don't need me here, I've got other things to deal with. My mom's worried about how this will affect construction. She wants to talk to the foreman."

  "Before you go, I've been meaning to ask you something. Did you ever find any of the threatening notes your father was supposed to have received?"

  "They were thrown out. Sorry about that."

  Peterson nodded. "That's what I figured." He escorted her to where Rose waited. "What will you tell the construction people?" he asked. "I doubt they'll be real eager to start work tomorrow."

  "I'll ask them to hire more security guards," Rose said flatly, "and I'll talk to the church committee. I didn't want

  to get involved in this, but construction on the church must continue, according to my husband's wishes."

  "Be careful, both of you," Peterson said.

  Ella nodded, then returned to the pickup with her mother.

  They drove home quickly. Rose telephoned the construction company and several members of her husband's church committee. The construction foreman agreed that security guards were needed and said he would make the arrangements. He also told Rose that work on the church would not stop.

  Later that afternoon, Wilson arrived with word that Clifford was fine. He and Ella stepped onto the porch. "Your brother hinted that he's getting closer to finding the places the skinwalkers are using for their ceremonies. He refused to say anything specific. He's convinced that the explosion was meant to force him into the open," Wilson confided.

  "Mom agrees."

  "And you?"

  "I think the bomb was meant to serve more than one purpose, and it did." Ella knew that with all the recent deaths, and the fire, tension had to be growing in the community.

  Thankfully, the rest of the day was quiet, though Ella felt worried about something she couldn't quite define. The dog stayed within sight of her or Rose, as if he were watching over them.

  The following morning, Rose walked back slowly from the mailbox, sharp lines of anger and worry framing her eyes. Wordlessly she handed Ella three letters, envelopes still in her hand.

  Ella handled the pages by their edges. Letters cut from newspapers spelled, "you will find only death," "ene-

  BLACKENING SONO X 285 mies of the TRIBE," and finally, "do not interfere, death

  STALKS YOU."

  "I have to take these in," Ella said, reaching for the envelopes and noting they were postmarked from inside the reservation. "The bureau has state-of-the-art equipment, and with a bit of luck maybe they'll get prints."

  "First, I want to see if the construction crew is working on your father's church," Rose said flatly.

  "Mom, they're probably still trying to get the wreckage hauled away and get reorganized."

  "We'll go anyway."

  Ella took a large manila envelope from her father's desk. After dropping the letters
and envelopes inside, she retrieved her truck keys from a hook in the kitchen. "Why does it have to be right now? Couldn't this wait a bit?"

  Rose walked with Ella to the pickup. "If we received these notes today, it's possible they got some threats too. I want to make sure they don't lose their courage and cave in to our enemies."

  Ella didn't dispute her mother's logic. She'd considered the same possibility. What worried her most was how her mother would take it if the construction company pulled out of the deal.

  "I'll stop by on the way to see Blalock, Mother. No sense in making yourself a public target."

  "Haven't you realized you can still protect me when we're away from our home?" Rose asked. "Where is your faith in yourself?"

  The question surprised her. "Of course I can protect you. I trust my instincts and my training."

  "That's not the faith I had in mind," Rose answered. "I'm talking about what is part of you, your birthright— what you insist is only intuition."

  "I can use logic to explain the insights you call magic/' Ella said. "Clifford accepts your explanation. I admit, he's really talented, a natural magician. I never could figure out most of his tricks. When we were growing up, half of the kids were terrified of him because they really believed he could do, or see, things they could not."

  "He never harmed anyone."

  "True, but he played with other people's beliefs—too much, in my opinion. He played the role of medicine man to the hilt."

  "He eventually learned to put it into perspective, but being a hataalii is a major part of his life. Still, there are other things he values just as much, if not more," Rose answered.

  "His natural abilities, like his charisma and his leadership, are at the center of everything he's become. But he's paid a high price for following that life path. The ordinary goals, the hopes and dreams that most people have, are completely foreign to him."

  "Is your love for the career you've chosen so different from his?"

  "Of course it is. My career gives me purpose and direction, but it isn't the center of my life."

  "What is?"

  Ella opened her mouth to speak, but to her own surprise, she had no ready answer. "I guess, my dreams of the future."

  "And those are?" Rose was relentless.

  Ella shook her head. "Don't you see? Dreams shouldn't be too structured. That closes a person off from the best part of all: the possibilities."

  "Sometimes that part is what turns on you and destroys. Look at the skinwalkers. They want power, and they get it,

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  but at the expense of their humanity. You have to look closely at what you want and see it from all sides. To walk in beauty, one must search out balance."

  "I do have balance. I rely on logic and common sense to find firm ground. My job has taught me about myself, and about other people. I know the pitfalls we all face better than most. My abilities may not be the kind you admire in Clifford, but I've cultivated them through hard work and training. Whether they stem from police instinct, or are the results of some mythical inheritance, isn't as important as the fact that I use them, that I've taken them as far as they

  go-"

  "How do you know, if you constantly refuse to acknowledge their possible origin?" Rose shook her head sadly. "You never wanted to be set apart because of who and what you are, but pretending you're not different doesn't alter the facts. No matter where you go, you'll never be just like everyone else."

  Ella said nothing, her thoughts whirling. She wished, more than anything, to avoid the question her mother had raised. It would stay in her mind, preying on her, until she found an answer. There could not be any more running away.

  "Well," Ella finally spoke. "Are you ready to go to the construction office?"

  "No. You're right, I'll be safer here. Besides, I'd be a fifth wheel at the police station." Rose folded her arms, signifying an end to the conversation.

  "You mean after all that . . . ," Ella blurted out, then shrugged in defeat. "Mothers."

  Ella pulled into the parking lot beside the construction company's office in Shiprock. The Anglo-owned company leased the space from the tribe.

  When she stepped through the front door, it was obvious that threats had been received here too. Phones rang incessantly at empty desks. Only one harried-looking Navajo secretary remained behind the front counter, trying desperately to answer all incoming calls.

  She glanced up when Ella closed the door. "I'd like to see the church's project manager/' Ella said.

  "Sorry. He's not seeing anyone today. We've received more threats, and everyone is scared."

  "There's a signed contract binding this company. I won't leave until I speak to the project manager." Ella spoke in the same tone she used to place a suspect under arrest, then held out her bureau I.D. and gold shield.

  The girl blinked, and for the first time seemed to really focus on Ella. Ignoring the still-ringing phones, the receptionist stood and hurried down the hall to an office in the back. She emerged a minute later and said, without crossing the room, "Mr. W T ashbum will see you now, Agent Clah."

  Washburn was a tall, light-skinned Anglo with bright red hair. He stood as Ella came into the room and gestured toward a chair. "I apologize for the chaos, but we're closing this office today."

  "I came to find out the status of the church project," Ella said clearly.

  "At the moment, work has stopped, and unless I can keep insurance coverage and bonding, I can't continue. When I reported getting threatening letters to the police, my insurance company canceled our coverage. Without insurance, I can't even stay in this building. The owners have

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  asked us to leave as quickly as possible. Their insurance premiums will skyrocket if we don't have our own cover-age/'

  "Surely there's a company somewhere that will underwrite this project," Ella challenged. "You're a businessman. You've run up against obstacles before. The contract you have with the church is still in effect."

  "Well, it won't help you to throw your weight around here, FBI agent or not. I am trying to find another company who'll insure this project, but it's going to take some time. That doesn't mean we won't build the church, just that the work will be postponed."

  "If you don't resume operations, church officials will take whatever legal means are available. Your company won't do any more business on the reservation." Ella knew that could happen; it had been done before.

  "This isn't my doing," Washburn protested. "The tribe has this hassle with your family and the site chosen for the church."

  "This is not between my family and the tribe. Don't confuse the issue. This is about your company upholding its legal obligations." Ella was surprised to find herself fighting for her father's church. She had stepped off the fence when she entered this office.

  "I won't risk the safety of my men. I'd have to add to the security already there, and that's going to add steeply to our costs."

  "How soon can you get back to work?" Ella asked pointedly.

  "At least two weeks, maybe more. Some of my men have quit, and others, especially the Navajos, won't work on that site anymore." He shrugged. "These are circum-

  stances beyond my control. If you want to do something, arrest the people behind the bombing. Then my job can continue on schedule."

  Anger spiraled through Ella, made worse by the fact that the man had a point. "The law enforcement agencies will do their job. Just make sure you do yours." Ella strode out of the room without looking back.

  Outside, she stood fuming on the sidewalk for a moment, then walked back to her truck, considering the problem from a more rational point of view. She knew a few independent insurance agents in the area. Maybe she could pull some strings and help get the project under way again.

  Ella knew her mother needed this. The church had become a way to keep her husband's memory alive, to focus her anger, and to avoid the pain, at least for a while. Rose wasn't used to being alone,
not yet.

  Ella stared out at the desert, filled with a subtle blend of greens and grays, sand and rocks. Its rugged sameness seemed comforting in a way she'd never experienced before. It spoke of endurance, and of the strength of spirit that had allowed the Dineh to survive.

  Alone. That word suddenly had many meanings to her. As a girl, the feeling she had attempted to describe with that word had really been the desire to find someone who could understand her needs and fears. Denied that, she'd eventually tried to become another person entirely, hoping to ease the chill inside her. But she'd never quite fit in anywhere.

  Now, as she gazed at the empty stretches of desert, she knew that she was truly home. Here, others could love her as she was. For the first time, Ella realized that her brother and her mother had each known that solitary walk between the ordinary and the borders of darkness. What bonded

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  them was infinitely stronger than whatever separated them, and that was their greatest strength.

  Hours before, after Ella had driven away from her home, a figure in a khaki uniform stood up from behind some concealing brush and walked slowly and silently toward the house. Dog, who'd been lying on the front porch, noticed the movement, and his ears came to attention.

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  in broad daylight seemed foolish to the point of stupidity, and he'd said so. But Clifford had been adamant. He needed to talk to the one member of his family who fully understood his strengths and limitations when dealing with their enemies. He also needed knowledge his mother possessed, and a few hours of safety in which to prepare.

  Wilson had strongly recommended that Clifford speak to Ella and ask for her help. She'd be better able to protect him since she was familiar with police procedure. If any unusual activity occurred, she would spot it. Clifford had said something very odd. He'd said that Ella wasn't ready, that her own fears might hold her back at a critical time.