by Aimée Thurlo
“I agree. Today’s Friday, her day to go see two silversmiths who live up by Teec Nos Pos, just inside the Arizona state line. The drive usually stresses her out, but she’s always insisted on going herself. The woman doesn’t trust anyone else to bargain hard enough. If we catch her on the road, I’m willing to bet it won’t take much to rattle her.”
He considered it. “I’m going to bluff her out to see if I can make her blink first,” he said. “Any idea where these silversmiths live?”
“Yes. Angelina kept a map in the store so we could track her down if she got stuck in bad weather or had car trouble. She takes the northwest road out of Shiprock to Teec Nos Pos, turns south at mile marker twenty-nine just past the local Chapter House, then continues on a dirt road into the foothills for about five miles. The silversmiths are father and son, but she has to deal with them separately.”
Rick called his brothers and asked them to meet him at mile marker twenty-nine.
* * *
RICK AND KIM were already halfway there, so they arrived first and pulled off the main highway, positioning the vehicle so they could see anyone coming their way up the dirt road. Daniel, Paul and Preston would be delayed by a half hour.
“She normally arrives back at the store before six, and it’s about fifty-five miles from here. If her business is done, she should be passing through here before long.”
After ten minutes she pointed. “That looks like her pickup coming in our direction.”
“All right then.” Rick pulled out and blocked the road.
A minute later the truck was close enough for them to confirm who was driving. Angelina honked the horn, slowed and finally stopped about fifteen feet up the road.
She climbed out, a thirty-thirty Winchester rifle in her hand. “What’s going on here?”
Rick got out and walked over to the front of the vehicle. “Remember me?”
“Like a disease. When you’re around, nothing good ever happens. Get out of my way.”
Rick took a breath, determined to keep his cool. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
“Forget it. I’m not interested.”
“You better be, because the Navajo police are on their way here as we speak,” he answered, lying through his teeth.
Angelina watched Kim as she came out the driver’s side and walked over to stand beside Rick. “You traitor.”
Kim said nothing and Angelina kept her rifle in front of her, not aiming at the moment.
“You’ll be interested to know we found my foster father’s body,” he said. “It was up in one of those caves, easy walking distance from where you used to live in that mobile home. Did he die on the way there or on the way back? Tell me.”
Angelina’s eyes widened slightly, then settled down. “After nearly three years, you finally went looking for that old fool?” She shuddered. “How do you know it was even him?”
“There was no mistaking his clothing, his belt and, of course, his hair. That remains long after death when preserved in a dry cave,” he said. “But here’s where it gets interesting, Angelina. His final act was to scratch out your name on the wall of the cave.”
Her eyes narrowed for a second. She cleared her throat. “He had a thing for me. I must have been the last person he thought of before he died.”
“No, he was poisoned and the police think he did that to name his killer. He also kept a leaf in his pocket. A leaf of fool’s parsley—garden hemlock. Where’d you get that anyway? Grow it on a windowsill, maybe?”
Angelina stood rock-still, but her right index finger inched toward the rifle’s trigger.
“And we know how you delivered the fatal dose, too,” Kim added. “You brought food from Bonnie’s truck out to Hosteen Silver every morning. You helped her fix them, as a matter of fact. A little extra chili on it...and something that looked like parsley. He never even noticed until it was too late.”
“He taught you all about plants, and you used that against him,” Rick snarled. “Before the police get here, at least tell me why you killed him. That’s the only part I still don’t get.”
Angelina levered a shell into the rifle chamber. “If only you’d just run off that cliff...”
“Don’t get stupid, Angelina. If you shoot us, any chance you have will go right out the window. We’re standing in Arizona now, and they have the death penalty.”
He pointed down the road toward the west. A white sedan was heading their way. “There’s the Arizona highway patrol right now.” He was bluffing.
As Angelina swung the rifle barrel around, Rick dove behind the engine compartment, pushing Kim down ahead of him. “Stay low,” he yelled, rolling up into a crouch.
Angelina fired, the bullet ricocheting off the reinforced hood.
Rick poked his head out around the front bumper and ducked back as she fired again, shattering the front headlight inches from his head.
Rick reached down for his pistol, but his holster was empty. Glancing around, he spotted the pistol lying in the sand a few feet away. It must have slipped out when he’d dived to the ground. He lunged for it just as Angelina jumped into her pickup.
As he brought the pistol up, shaking sand from the barrel, Angelina sped by Rick’s vehicle on the passenger side, sideswiping the SUV with a teeth-shattering screech.
Rick, on one knee, spun around, aimed carefully and fired two rounds into the rear of her truck as it reached the highway.
“She’s getting away,” Kim yelled, racing around to the passenger side as Angelina sped east toward Teec Nos Pos.
Rick jumped in and handed her his pistol. Whipping the vehicle around, he pulled onto the road right behind a frightened-looking elderly couple in a white sedan. They were clearly not Arizona Highway Patrol officers.
As they accelerated after the fleeing silver pickup, Rick looked over at Kim. “You okay?”
She looked down at her right hand, which was on her lap on top of his pistol. “Scrapes and stickers, but mostly I’m angry.”
“Me, too.”
His phone rang, and with a flick of his finger, he put it on speaker, keeping both hands on the wheel. Doing eighty, Rick whipped around the white sedan as if it was standing still.
“Hey, Rick, where are you?” It was Preston’s voice. “A silver pickup almost ran us off the road. Was that—?”
“Angelina,” Rick confirmed. “We’re coming up fast. Once we pass you, turn around and give chase.”
“Copy. I see you now.”
Kim signaled the men as they raced past Rick’s brothers at ninety miles per hour.
“You’re flying, bro, slow down.” Preston’s voice came over the phone instantly.
“Can’t. Unless I keep her in sight, she could pull off anywhere.”
“She won’t get far. I see a trail of fluid on the road. I’m guessing she’s losing gas,” Preston told him.
Kim looked down at the road ahead. “I see the shine on the asphalt.”
Rick slowed to eighty-five. “Okay. I’m slowing down. I have the truck within sight now.”
“Her new home isn’t far from here, a few miles past Beclabito, on the right,” Kim advised, referring to the small community ahead, just inside the New Mexico state line.
Rick nodded. “Hear what Kim said, guys?”
“Copy,” Preston acknowledged. “Once you confirm her route, let us know. We’re about a mile behind you now.”
About three minutes later, the Beclabito trading post fading in the rearview mirror, Kim pointed toward a cloud of dust ahead, to the right of the highway. “That’s the turnoff. Did she wreck?”
Rick took a long look and spotted a vehicle emerging from the right side of the cloud. “No, she may have spun out, though. She’s headed home, guys,” he said loud enough for Preston to hear over the s
peaker.
A minute later Rick turned, pointing to skid marks on the asphalt and road shoulder. “Look at those ruts. She nearly lost it making the turn.”
“Her home is a few miles ahead, just on other side of those cliffs, up against a hill,” Kim reported. “With that rifle, she might be planning to ambush us when we go through the road cut.”
Rick slowed, noting the trail of damp earth in the center of the dirt road. “Still losing gas. Once she runs out, we’ve got her.”
They topped a small rise and saw the pickup in the middle of the road about two hundred yards ahead. Steep cliffs rose on both sides of the road cut. “How many rounds did she fire from that Winchester?” Kim asked.
“Three, maybe four. Her rifle holds six to seven rounds normally, so she’s still armed and dangerous. With that weapon she also has a range advantage and hitting power over our pistols.”
“We need to play it smart,” Kim said. “Make her waste her ammo.”
Rick slowed to a crawl, then turned, blocking the road. “My feelings exactly. Follow me out on my side. Once the guys arrive we can move in. They’ll cover us.”
“Assault tactics.”
“Exactly, except they won’t open up unless Angelina actually starts shooting,” he said. “We’ll advance along both drainage ditches. Stay low and be ready to go prone if she opens fire.”
Preston, already briefed on the tactical plan, pulled up behind them. With backup now in place, Rick and Kim moved ahead to the silver vehicle. The smell of gasoline was thick in the air.
Rick looked around. “Her footprints don’t lead down the road toward the house. They lead off to the right. I can still track her.”
“Maybe she’s just circling around, hoping to lose us by climbing up some trail to the top of the mesa. Once she’s up there, she could shoot down on us,” Kim said.
“If she wanted to make a last stand, yes, but I don’t think she wants a fight, Kim. I think she’s looking to hide. She’ll head someplace she feels safe.”
He stood back from the cliff, looking along the upper third of the formation. Feeling the vibration on his cell phone, he brought his brothers up to speed. “There are shallow caves up there. My guess is she made it to one of those. Someone needs to keep watch for a rifle barrel poking out. Once we start our climb, she’ll have to poke her head out to shoot at us.”
“We’ll provide suppressive fire if she shows herself,” Preston replied.
Rick put the phone in his pocket and glanced over at Kim. “From this point on we’ll have to be as silent as possible.”
“All right. Let’s go.”
Pushing some dried tumbleweeds out of the way, they worked their way up. This slope was a lot easier to climb than the cliff where they’d found Hosteen Silver’s remains.
The first few caves were nothing more than low overhangs and were easy to see inside. He moved past them, signaling for Kim to remain in place. He then headed alone toward what looked like a deep cave.
He immediately found a small path and shoe prints. Angelina had come this way.
He glanced back and, spotting his brothers below, pointed ahead. He then signaled Kim to follow him.
As Rick got closer to the cave, he saw what looked like the barrel of a rifle lying on the floor of the cave. He motioned for Kim to hold her ground, then carefully advanced to a position beside the opening.
From where he stood, he could see that the lever of the rifle was half-open, a bent cartridge in the breech. A jam, probably caused in panic by an inexperienced shooter. Reaching over, he grabbed the barrel, pulled out the rifle and slid it down the slope. It hung up on some brush about fifteen feet from the opening.
Rick pulled a wide-beamed flashlight out of his pocket and examined the cave from outside. It was much bigger than the one he’d been in earlier that day, about five feet high toward the rear, maybe ten feet wide, and at least double that distance deep. At the back were what appeared to be two shrines.
Rick entered on his knees, rose to a crouch and discovered a pair of snapshots hanging on the rock wall above two sets of personal effects.
He recognized Hosteen Silver’s photo first. Beneath it, on the floor of the cave, were his foster father’s favorite jeans—an old pair with worn knees and a paint stain—and his bolo tie.
He focused the beam of the flashlight on the other photo. It was a photo showing Angelina in a wedding dress standing beside a man in a suit. That suit appeared to have been folded and placed below the photo, along with a gold wedding band.
Hearing a muted sound, he turned his head to see Kim crouched at the entrance.
“What is this place, a memorial?” Kim whispered, coming up beside him.
“Of a sort, I guess,” he answered in a quiet voice. As he looked into the darkness, he spotted a small flicker of light, like that from a cigarette lighter, followed by the soft glow of a newly lit candle.
The jar candle was on a large wooden box and beside it was Angelina, sitting on a low, three-legged stool. She was holding a shiny steel pistol in a shaky hand, the barrel aimed right at them. “You shouldn’t have followed me here. This is my place—and theirs. We can be together here.”
For a moment Rick had no words. Then he saw the basketball-size propane bottle beside the box, only a few feet from Angelina.
“You must miss them terribly,” Kim said, backing away slightly.
“They never really loved me, but here we’re together.”
“Angelina, put the pistol down and come outside with us,” Rick said. “More violence isn’t going to solve anything.”
“Don’t worry. We won’t suffer. We’ll all disappear in a big ball of light. I can’t miss.” She shifted, aiming the pistol at the valve on top of the propane bottle.
The woman was clearly not in her right mind. One shot would destroy the valve, the propane would escape and the candle would ignite the gas, blowing them to bits.
“It’s time for me to join my men. This wasn’t supposed to include you, too, but Hosteen Silver will appreciate the company.”
Seeing her finger tighten around the trigger, Rick grabbed Kim’s hand and yanked her to the ground. The pistol went off with an ear-shattering blast. The metal propane tank passed over their heads like a low-flying jet, bounced off the roof of the cave and disappeared out the opening.
Rick turned and saw Angelina on her side, staring at the candle, extinguished by the rush of air and gas. Dust began to shower down, followed by rocks and big chunks of sandstone.
“Out! Everything’s coming down,” he yelled, wrapping his arm around Kim and pulling her out of the cave.
They leaped out headfirst and slid down the steep slope several feet before he finally managed to grab a ledge with his free hand and stop their slide.
A faint scream somewhere above them was followed by a loud crash as the cave collapsed under the weight of the cliff above. The earth shook and clouds of dust shot out. Big chunks of rock came tumbling down.
Rick pulled Kim to his side, shielding her with his body as loose earth, plant debris and sandstone chunks pelted them.
They waited, heads buried beneath their arms until the earth stopped shaking. An enormous slab of sandstone directly overhead was teetering back and forth.
“Let’s move!”
They half slid, half crawled to the bottom, scrambling to their feet just as there was a final, enormous thud. The sandstone slab tipped, crashed onto the steep slope, then slid halfway down before coming to a stop in a cloud of dust.
Kim couldn’t stop shaking. “I thought we were done for,” she said, her voice breaking.
Rick pulled her into his arms. “Me, too, and all the time we were stuck there, all I could think of was how much time I’d wasted.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “I
love you, Kim. Marry me.”
“Yes!”
They heard footsteps and broke apart to find his brothers standing there.
Daniel laughed. “Jeez, guy, you’re covered in dust and dirt, weeds and stickers in your hair—basically you look like a pistol-packing lizard that just crawled out of an ant bed. Where’s the romance? Couldn’t you have waited for wine and roses, or at least gotten down on one knee?”
“We’ll do the rest later, but I’m not wasting one more minute,” Rick replied, kissing her again.
“Quit goofing off, slacker,” Preston yelled from farther down. “We’ve still got work to do here.”
“Hey, don’t ruin the moment,” Daniel yelled back.
Rick looked down at Kim, then pointed. “Look at Copper Canyon, off in the distance. No matter what happens, it continues to stand. That’s the way it’ll be with us.”
“I know,” she said and kissed him. “Some things were just meant to be.”
Epilogue
A week had passed, and with all the major questions answered now, there was no reason not to resume their personal lives again.
Rick had wanted to keep their wedding simple, with only a justice of the peace, his brothers and their families present, including Kim’s uncle Frank. The event, scheduled to begin in forty-five minutes, would be the first held at Copper Canyon.
While the women got ready in the next room, Rick stared at Hosteen Silver’s journal. With all of them present, they’d read it at first light that morning.
“That’s an amazingly detailed history of all the sacred objects he used for each Sing,” Rick said. “It’s a very special kind of family history.”
“None of us will become medicine men, but this kind of knowledge should be preserved,” Kyle said.
“Let’s keep it safe and secure for the next generation,” Preston suggested. “Think of the journal as Hosteen Silver’s legacy.”
“I like that,” Paul said with a nod. “Who’s to say one of our children won’t become a medicine man or woman?”