Burning Sky

by R. S. Scott

  “What is a blowgun?” Dallas says as he looks up from his notes.

  “A hollowed out human bone they use to blow bits of bone and other sinister crap out of,” I tell him.

  “How far is this gun useful?” Dallas asks.

  “It’s not line-of-sight. They can hit you no matter the distance,” I tell him.

  “Bits of bone?” Dallas notates quickly. “And other ‘sinister crap.’”

  “Yes, manifests as bacterial infections in organs, bone marrow cancer, and other things like that. Brain tumors, too, I hear,” I say.

  “I see. So you have a case load, with plenty of evidence, but few convictions.”

  “Yes.” I sit smiling.

  “How can that be?” Dallas returns my implied sarcasm.

  “Well. Agent FBI, convictions are hard when the perpetrator is assaulting with bits of bone from miles away. Proving that is a problem now, isn’t it?”

  Dallas smiles slyly. “Thanks for your time, officers.”

  “You’re always eating, Holden.” I say and reach for a piece of his extra pepperoni with feta and mozzarella pizza pie. “What’s going on over there in your area?”

  Holden pulls out a USB jump drive from his pocket and begins a rather impressive presentation regarding his findings with help from Officer Christopher Benally of Leupp station. The diagram is a tree, a massive family tree based on the resident clans and daughter clans.

  “The Edgewater bunch are over here. The Monroes are Edgewater and Salt clans. The Nelsons, over here, are Towering House and Long Reed clans. The Yazzies over there are Bigwater and Deerwater clans. When the old medicine man died, remember he also killed his grandson, so the lineage of the Folded Arms clan is no more. Those two were the last. That clan is now extinct.”

  Karen and I share a glance. “OK,” I say.

  “The Folded Arms were part of the Bigwater bunch. They were cousins to the Yazzies, the same Yazzies that burned that hogan earlier this year.”

  “Yeah, and?” Karen says as she looks on.

  “So they’re up to something,” says Holden.

  “Holden,” Karen seems irritated, “Get to your point please, what does all that mean?”

  Holden stands rigidly. “I don’t know yet. The elders are dying off. There are fewer and fewer people coming to the chapter meetings. We always knew when a medicine man showed up. They bring in a mellow, peaceful vibe with them, and everyone is happy. It’s been a long time since that’s happened.”

  “Maybe the medicine men have become the witchdoctors,” I say as I sit chewing on a delicious pizza slice.

  Karen and Holden glare at me for an eternity.

  “What? Is that possible?” Karen inquires of Holden.

  “I don’t know. I really don’t,” Holden says looking anxious.

  “Guys, it was a joke,” I say as I sit eating. “Guys?”

  “Get with Taylor and ask him,” Karen commands and moves with an air of urgency. “Holden, talk to whomever you must and let’s do a conference call around 8:00 pm. Steve, be quick about it, please. Like right now!”

  “Right now?” I ask still holding the pizza.

  “Yes right now! If the Monroes work their magic, they already know you’re going to see him, so go quickly!” Karen says and rushes out the door.

  I still sit eating the last bit of the pizza pie. “Holden, seriously, that’s damn good Italian pizza pie.”

  “Thanks,” he says and storms out of the door yelling, “Is it even possible for that to happen? So many trust medicine men without question!”

  I pull Pastor aside. “Pastor, where is Taylor? I’ve been looking for him all afternoon.”

  “Over there, he’s early for Wednesday night service.” Pastor says and points toward the church dining hall.

  I find Taylor sipping coffee. “Taylor.”

  “What is it, my son?” he asks.

  “I’ve been looking for you. Your sheep are not corralled. I hope you know that. They’re wandering all over your ranch, shit balls everywhere.”

  “Ah, the stubborn sheep. They know to stay there and not go wandering off. The dogs will keep them around. Go get you a cup, Son.”

  I return with black coffee. “Taylor, I have a question for you, if you have a moment, please,” I say.

  “Sure, what is it?” he replies.

  I glance around the dining hall, noticing that the gathering for Wednesday evening prayer service had already begun. The adults sip their coffee and chat. The children crowd the rear tables. “Maybe we should go outside or something.”

  “Here is fine, Son. Service starts in an hour. What is it?”

  I adjust my chair and sip more coffee. “Taylor, is it entirely possible that a person that practices the arts, for good, like a medicine man, can turn on his ways and become an evil bastard like a witchdoctor? Like just become an evil fucker?”

  “Yes, anything else?” Taylor confirms.

  “What? Wait. Can you explain that a bit more please?”

  “Explain what?” Pastor pulls up a chair next to us.

  “That…” I glance around for other listening ears. “That a medicine man, a roadman, can become a witchdoctor. A supposed good guy becomes a bad guy, an evil guy.”

  “Yes, they can—and do.” Taylor seems annoyed and gulps his coffee.

  “I believe it,” Pastor says nodding his head.

  “Wait, the people trust and believe in the medicine men here. Well not in here, but out there they are trusted men. Men of courage and knowledge,” I say.

  “Yes, at a moment’s decision, they turn dark and never go back.” Taylor looks on. “They never go back.”

  “Shit.” I sip my coffee.

  “Steve, please,” Pastor scolds.

  “Sorry, Pastor.” I get up from my chair. “What time is it?” I glance at the wall clock. “Six-thirty, I have time to get in touch with Karen.”

  “Why don’t you join us for service, Officer Keller. Your phone conference isn’t for another hour and a half,” Pastor says.

  “How you know about that?” I ask.

  “Karen was here earlier. I blessed her gun.” Pastor smiles.

  “Shit.” I glare at my phone.

  “What is it?” Pastor inquires.

  “I was supposed to call Jess an hour ago. I forgot.”

  CHAPTER 11

  “OK, Steve you there?” Karen’s nasal voice echoes through the radio.

  “Yes. Sorry, I was trying to call Jess, again,” I say.

  “She’s still not talking to you?” Karen asks.

  “Nope,” I tell her.

  “But you bought the ring right?” Karen asks.

  “I did. The fuck was I thinking?” I pause. “Actually I’m not sure what to think…she’s…drifting. And I can’t fix it.”

  “Sorry,” an audible radio click interrupts the conference call. “Holden?”

  “Present!” Holden seems cheery.

  “Don’t be an ass, Holden. What did you find?” Karen asks.

  “Yes, medicine men can become witchdoctors. It’s a decision they make, but they can never go back,” Holden confirms.

  “OK. Steve?” Karen prompts.

  “Taylor says the same thing,” I say.

  “And?” Karen says.

  “According to Taylor, it’s the internal motivations of the medicine man. From an external, giving, selfless disposition to more self-centered endeavors. That’s the trigger, as Taylor explains it.”

  “Can there be external factors to that process?” Karen seems preoccupied.

  “External factors?” I inquire.

  “Like, can someone force a medicine man to make that choice? To start down that path?” Karen fumbles with her radio. “Can someone, like, force a medicine man to become a skinwalking bastard?”

  “No idea, I’ll ask around,” Holden says and sounds like he’s walking and talking.

  “I’ll talk to Taylor again tomorrow, I’ll ask him,” I say.

  “Ste
ve, you do that. Holden, you too. I’ll get a hold of Jeremy and ask him as well. Steve?” Karen pauses.

  “Yeah?” I say.

  “The people caring for Rebecca in Phoenix called. They’re complaining about some disturbances, can you call them please?” Karen asks.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “OK, short conference call, so, courage guys!” Karen says.

  “See you guys later,” Holden says and hangs up.

  “I’ll hit up the family tomorrow morning after I talk to Jess.”

  “Sounds good. Also, the feds finally are taking the lead with the Monroe fiasco that was supposed to be an accident. They know Gladys is at the Monroe house but they also know she isn’t talking to anybody. Someone has a muzzle on her. Also, Jessica was supposedly seen at Tolani Lake before traveling back to Phoenix. Just a rumor I hear,” Karen says.

  “Oh shit,” I say. I struggle to formulate the words I need. Jessica was in Tolani Lake? Jeremy is in Tolani Lake. “Shit.”

  “Steve, get your head on straight. We’ll meet up at the church tomorrow afternoon,” Karen says.

  “Karen, can I ask you something?” I ask.

  “Sure, what’s up.” Karen seems distracted.

  “You ever get that gut feeling that something terrible has happened, and you can’t shake it no matter what you do? No matter how delicate the matter is as it feels like a cold dagger piercing a lung, then being thrashed about inside. You know that feeling of being lied to? Of being disregarded by someone you care for so much?”

  Karen stops her endeavors. The shuffling sounds grow silent as Karen speaks, “I think I know what you’re referring to. You think there’s something going on between Jessica and Jeremy?”

  “Damn you’re good,” I retort holding back tears.

  “Whatever it is your head needs to be in your job when you’re on the clock. Still, Jeremy is an asshole, but not one to do something like that. He’s very proud, but I don’t think he’d do something like that.”

  “She’s drifting away, I feel it.”

  Karen sighs loudly, “Look, I won’t tell you what to do when you’re off the clock, but if that starts affecting your performance, then it becomes my problem.”

  “OK, sorry,” I hastily use my hands to claw away the tears.

  “Not trying to be a bitch but we have jobs to do. The host family is in some sort of skinwalking type haunting bullshit. It stinks of the Nelson variant. The dog is barking at nothing and there was lightning coming out of their fireplace.”

  “Lightning?” I ask.

  “Their words not mine,” Karen again sound busy, “Go home, talk to Jess again if you need to. Work it out if you can save it. If not let her go. You’re a good guy, Keller. But this is not all her fault.”

  “I know. I’m no angel. I love my woman, but my actions don’t seem to reflect that very well. She no longer seems genuinely glad to hear from me as I find myself feeling the need to connect and feel loved. I miss her”.

  “Well, like I said earlier. Work it out or let it go. Long distance relationships really don’t work out here. Church, tomorrow afternoon. Be there or be square.” Karen hangs up.

  I call Jess again. There is no answer.

  “Hoeing agave on Saddle Butte? Really?” Karen hovers as a disappointed mother would. “Your ears don’t look good.”

  “Hey! We are his company! Or did you forget that?” I sip steaming coffee.

  Karen sighs. “Taylor says any medicine man can be forced into darkness, depending on which buttons you press. Any word from the feds?”

  “No, last I heard they had booked one of the Nelson brothers in Holbrook.” I say.

  Karen marches to the chapel while I continue to thaw. Old Man Taylor makes his way into the dining hall.

  “Taylor, let’s not do that again,” I say.

  Taylor sits sprinkling salt into a bowl of mutton stew, ignoring my comment.

  “Taylor?”

  “In two weeks after the first snow, we’ll be up there again. Bring gloves and wear long johns,” Taylor tells me.

  “Gloves and long johns. Got it. Thanks, Taylor.” I try to be sarcastic but fail at it.

  “You’re welcome, Son.” He sits eating. “And bring your own hoe, one of those barrels will be yours.”

  “What? You serious?” I look down the hall toward the chapel looking for Karen. “Really?”

  “Yes, your uncle uses oak barrels for bourbon. We’ll use one of his barrels for your batch,” Taylor says.

  “Wow, thanks, Taylor.” Still no Karen to interrupt our informal deal. “It has to be on my day off though. Karen wouldn’t like the end result if I do this when I’m on the clock,” I tell him.

  “You got it. Son, get me more coffee,” Taylor commands.

  “What?” I glare at Taylor. “Damn.” I get up and fetch more coffee for Taylor. “This is not cool, Taylor.” I pour him a cup. “Total bullshit.”

  “Thanks, Son. We have service on Sunday morning, be there.” He keeps eating while I stand confused.

  “You grow agave, make some high octane home-brew, and then do your church thing on Sundays?” I ask Taylor.

  “Son, one has nothing to do with the other. You’re the one that cusses in church,” he says and glares up at me.

  “Fine. See you Sunday. And stay out of trouble,” I say and walk to the chapel to find Karen.

  “Pastor seems a bit uneasy, and yes I did talk to him about his pistol” I say. “Even offered to teach him how to use it.” We sit alone in the back pew like anxious, first-time visitors to the church. “His IP cameras work, though.” I fidget.

  “He already knows how. And Simon is back. He was caught stealing tobacco from Teesto Trading Post. Holden took him in this afternoon,” Karen says and glances at her watch.

  “What’s he doing here? Shiprock, New Mexico is a long way.” I observe.

  “He climbed up the massive pine tree at Teesto station with his damn tobacco. A dog started barking at him, and he went up the tree. Branches are like an inch diameter, but somehow he’s up there making fun of Holden, spitting out tobacco. Holden shoots him with a beanbag out of his 12 gauge. He falls about thirty-five feet, hits his head, and bounces, his bones breaking and crunching from the impact.”

  “Wow. Nice shooting with a shotgun.” I offer.

  “So he’s laying on the ground, and Holden cuffs him, just grabs his arms and pulls them together behind him. Simon starts yelling that he’s got broken bones and needs an ambulance. Starts hollering about discrimination and wants a lawyer. Holden tells him he’s not getting any of that and to heal himself quickly.” Says Karen.

  “And,” I say and inch closer to Karen.

  “And he did. Holden cuffed his ankles. Duct tapes his mouth shut, and throws him in Teesto jail. Holden’s cowboy hat did get smashed when he stepped on it fighting with Simon.”

  “Ballsy, that Holden.” I surmise.

  “Holden says he can keep Simon for the next few days since Ganado station wants a follow up with his corn home brew, which gives us until Tuesday.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask.

  “Bring Rebecca back here.” Karen says sternly. “I’ll talk to Pastor about possibly having her stay at the church. FBI are chasing down one Nelson after another like it’s nothing. Now that’s ballsy. Richard Nelson is one evil guy as is Travis Nelson. I hope they know what they’re doing.”

  “So, Chief Daren’s death was ruled an accident, but no one believes that. Not even the feds.” I say. The church staff offer sandwiches to the church patrons. Karen accepts one.

  “It’s Simon. It seems it’s all about him right now. The Monroes are weary he’s back, and the Yazzies are afraid of him,” Karen returns.

  “And Holden throws his ass in jail,” I say with a smile.

  “That’s not good,” Karen says as she steals a slight smile.

  “He’s fearless, that Holden,” I say.

  “Yeah, he needs to be. We all need to be, so wat
ch yourself,” Karen states in a matter of fact way.

  “I have been. I worry about things I shouldn’t lately,” I say. “It’s strange.”

  “Yeah?” Karen replies.

  “Taylor lives alone, an old man like that who can barely take care of himself. He lives by himself with a horse, some dogs, and sheep. And he’s not alone in that. There are other houses scattered about with elders that live alone. Their children and grandchildren are off in the big city doing their thing, leaving the old ones behind. I see a lot wrong with that. It bothers me,” I say.

  “Gladys is not alone but associated with the wrong people, unfortunately,” Karen clarifies.

  “Agreed,” I say and sip my coffee.

  “Pastor is standing strong. I think we rely on him far more than we should. Maybe we need to back off,” Karen says as she eats the last of her sandwich.

  “Thing is, a lot of this fight is his, and he knows it,” I say.

  “Just make sure you keep talking to him, and always have your wits about you. Keep an eye on him as well. The last thing we need is one of us getting stupid,” Karen advises.

  We sit in silence for several moments listening to the pianist play.

  I glare at Karen. “You alright?”

  She sits silently as the moments go by. “Yeah, I will be.” She sits with folded arms as the pianist plays on. “I just hope maybe, perhaps, things will end for the best, but I don’t expect it. It’s not going to get better. It’s just going to get worse, and worse and worse.”

  “You know, I haven’t seen Tony in years,” I say. “What I heard spooked me a bit. I knew things like that went on decades ago, centuries ago. During the great wars a lot of savageries went on in our past, but now? With people we know? And Tracy? Damn, I grew up with these people.”

  “I know. I’m not sure what else to say with this drama going on,” Karen says and leans back in our pew. “I’m so tired.”