Nora stepped out of the Jeep. A candy wrapper fluttered under her feet. Feeling uncomfortable and unsure, she headed for the sound of drums.
Several groups of Native Americans meandered up a trail etched into the side of a nearly vertical mesa. Nora crossed the road and started onto a rocky trail that switchbacked up the steep mesa. The path ground to fine yellow powder by centuries of feet trudging through the village.
From time to time bunches of weeds survived, covered in yellow dust. A few food wrappers and other trash flitted across the ground on the dry, hot breeze. The sun beat on her and with no sunscreen or hat, she’d crisp in a matter of minutes.
She topped out on the mesa and the savory smell of roasting meat struck her. Muffled sounds of men singing joined the constant beating drum. The people on the roof of a two-story building looked down the other side at whatever activity caused the singing and drumming.
She assumed the building held two stories because it rose that high above the mesa, but no windows showed on this back side to indicate its structure. Built of natural rock it became a part of the mesa as if it had been uncovered by shifting desert dirt. Cars and pickups ranging from shiny and new to rusting heaps, all under a coating of dust, crowded the narrow alley behind the building. Smatterings of Native Americans moved in and out of the confusion. Like any other outdoor celebration, they carried camp chairs, water and bags full of necessities.
Nora approached a friendly looking older woman. “Is this the way to the dance?” A few heads turned toward her but Nora didn’t feel hostility or even much curiosity.
The older woman eyed Nora’s jeans and though she didn’t change expression, Nora felt chastised. “This your first time?”
How could she tell? Nora nodded. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”
“Follow me,” the woman said. She led Nora to the corner of the solid structure, where another building stood at a right angle leaving a narrow passage. People crowded into the opening all facing toward the drumming and singing. A young woman with a little girl about ten-years old shuffled aside and made room for Nora. She nodded her head at the older woman.
The two buildings comprised half of the parameters of a village square, with an identical set of buildings making up the other half. Nora stood transfixed by the scene in front of her.
The plaza measured about as wide as a basketball court and twice as long. Color, drums, and singing whirled around her as she tried to sort out the images. A circle of bare-chested men lined the length of the plaza, all wore masks, their long black hair falling down their backs. In a symphony of feathers, paint, leather, bells, plants and animal skins, the men danced in their vibrant costumes, each one different from the others. Or maybe some looked similar to another. The alien mix made it impossible for Nora to capture all the details.
The fifty or so men chanted and stomped their feet. Some held rattles they shook in rhythm to the drumming. It sounded like unintelligible syllables to Nora but apparently they were singing words and verses because suddenly they all stepped back and turned in a line dance more synchronized and impressive than in any cowboy bar.
“Wow.” She couldn’t muster more intelligent words.
The older woman didn’t take her eyes from the dancing.
The dancers continued to sing and move in unison. The drums pounded, rattles kept time, spectators sat quietly and watched. Time and place vanished from her normal life of businesswoman in the middle of American society. Through the space between the buildings across the plaza, the desert stretched from the mesa into eternity. The sky offered bunches of clouds in the expanse above.
“What is this about?”
The woman whispered. “Those are the kachinas. They come from the sacred peaks every spring. They perform dances; most of them secret in the kivas. This is a summer dance. Just a celebration.”
“What, exactly, is a kachina?”
The old woman considered before answering. “The kachinas represent things that are important to Hopi. There are more than 300 of them. They act as a kind of go-between for Hopi and the supernatural world. Mostly, they are spirits like animals or ancestors or plants, clouds, stuff like that.” She shut her mouth as if the conversation officially ended.
The celebration resembled a Fourth of July picnic. Smells of cooking wafted around the plaza. Women in aprons moved in and out of the houses, taking a moment to sit and watch the dance, then going back to attend to whatever caused the wonderful aromas. Unlike the American holiday where children ran and shot off fireworks amid a buzz of activity, for the most part the crowd focused on the dancers. It seemed a mix between church and bar-b-que.
With a final hard pound of the drum the dancers stopped chanting and stamping their feet. The bells and rattles ceased and the kachinas took up a moaning sound. Perhaps it was in lieu of applause. Their chorus sounded strange like deep cooing of doves, low whine of dogs, but not really any of those, maybe a combination. Maybe it was a Hopi amen.
A man in the middle of the circle shouted and the cooing accented whatever he said. Sometimes the drums beat or the rattles sounded. Several men moved from the circle to the crowd distributing parcels of food. Nora couldn’t unravel the mystery why certain women received these. They offered no exchange of smiles and thank yous, as she’d expect. The women simply accepted the food, passed it back to other women who disappeared through the doors with it. It looked like an arbitrary mixture, store-bought white bread, homemade cakes and pies, fresh vegetables, cooked ears of corn, melons, bags of chips, all gathered in various containers such as cardboard soda flats, plastic storage containers, baskets, and bowls.
The food distribution and the oration went on for a while. Nora tucked herself next to a building taking advantage of a sliver of shade. Time became irrelevant. How long did she stand watching the dancing and gift giving?
The kachinas formed a line and exited the intersection of the buildings opposite Nora.
Whatever the ceremony meant the Hopi had performed in almost the exact same way for centuries. The masks and costumes might have added a few modern touches over the years. The jingle bells on the dancers’ legs wouldn’t have been available until after Europeans brought trade goods, and there were probably other bits and pieces constructed of synthetic fabrics, though none were obvious to Nora. How was it possible that these customs, older than the castles in Europe, survived intact?
The heat and yellow dirt yielded the answer. The mesa didn’t welcome stray visitors. Outsiders that did venture up here didn’t want to stay. Even early settlers coveted rich farmland and easy water sources. The harsh environment kept the Hopi isolated and able to focus on the old ways.
Her gaze wandered back to the crowd. She couldn’t waste time on a cultural mission. She needed to find Heather. With a thudding heart, Nora scanned the plaza. She finally spotted Heather on a rooftop across the plaza. At least she appeared uninjured from the lava tube blast.
Heather stood with folded arms, her body rigid. She had no interest in the plaza. Behind her, a figure moved into sight. He towered above Heather. His hand shot out and he grabbed her shoulder.
Alex.
Nora gasped and ran several steps across the plaza. A glimpse of a familiar beaked nose and sunburned red skin stopped her dead.
Big Elk.
28
A regular convict convention. With no law enforcement to protect them.
Alex stood within clubbing distance of Heather.
And Big Elk. He hated Nora enough her white hide would be worthless as soon as he saw her.
Alex reached out and Heather let him touch her arm. Nora had to get up there. Even though she didn’t see any horses, if Big Elk spied her, being drawn and quartered seemed possible.
Big Elk held several young women in thrall. He could look over here any time. He’d sic his minions on her and she’d disappear without a trace.
Sweat dribbled down Nora’s spine. Big Elk spoke to a middle aged woman. She considered, shook her h
ead and walked away.
Big Elk scowled after her. He glanced in the other direction and hurried from the plaza. Today’s faithful following was noticeably devoid of Guilty White People. He must have thought they’d bring down his cred out here and asked them to stay away from the rez.
Alex pulled away from Heather and she reached to stop him. He shrugged her off and left the roof top.
Nora lit out after Heather.
A hand on her arm made her squeal.
A man decked out in yellow mud with facial features painted in black, frowned at her. “You can’t go back there. That’s for the kachinas.”
Heather disappeared down the back side of the building
“But a bunch of other people went that way.”
He stared at her. “Only Hopi are allowed. The next dance will start pretty soon. You can go down and look at the art or try the piki bread.”
“Sure. Thanks”
She felt his eyes on her as she sauntered toward the displays. She had to find Heather before the girl got into trouble. But Nora couldn’t traipse off anywhere. Obviously, a white woman wandering by herself over the mesa spelled trouble.
The mud-caked man watched her. Many of the spectators had disappeared and those left in the plaza visited with each other. Nora acted as if she intended to wait for the next dance.
She glanced behind her. The alley was empty. Wherever the audience went, they weren’t loitering there. She looked back to the center of the plaza, her guardian nowhere in sight. What to do? The rez was foreign territory and she could get herself into trouble and not help Heather.
But Big Elk shouldn’t be here. Whatever he had planned might involve more explosions. Nora stepped out of the shade into the alley. Helping Heather couldn’t wait.
A hand clasped her arm squeezing her heart into her throat. Expecting Alex or another of Big Elk’s foot soldiers to drag her off and dismember her, Nora threw herself out of his grasp.
Someone hissed into her ear. “Come on. We’ve got to stop Big Elk.”
Heather! Nora sucked in a breath. “Are you okay? Where’s Alex?”
Heather pulled in a breath and straightened. She arranged her face into a calm mask. “I’m fine. You didn’t need to come rescue me but since you’re here you can help. ”
“How did you know I was here?”
Heather gave her an “oh, please” look. “You don’t stand out at all.”
Nice. “Let’s get out of here before someone decides to kill me.”
“We can’t go. We have to save the dance.”
Teenagers and their distorted sense of proportion. Big Elk plotting murder constituted a crisis; Alex attacking Heather reeked of disaster; one ruined performance didn’t really matter. “It’s just a dance.”
Heather glared at her. “You don’t get it. Nothing is ‘just’ anything up here.”
“There will be other dances.”
“Maybe there won’t be any more. Maybe this is the last test and we fail.”
“What makes you think this is a failure?”
“Big Elk. The guys need to be in their kivas doing whatever they do and he’s got them listening to his stupid shit.”
“Kivas? What do they do?”
They wove between a rusty Ford pickup and a newer compact car. Heather said, “Every clan has a kiva they get into by a ladder through the roof. It represents the way people climbed from the Third Word to this one. I don’t know what they do in the kivas. Each clan does their own secret ceremonies. And now they aren’t doing it because of stupid Big Elk.”
A young woman walked by with a baby on her hip. She nodded to Heather.
They rounded a corner and Nora saw the backs of three or four young men, Alex among them. Big Elk spoke, his face red.
Big Elk was nothing but a poseur out trying to stir up trouble to make himself important. As much as she’d like to charge into the center of the circle and wring his neck, her coward’s heart balked. Nora pulled back, trying to slow Heather. “What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. I saw you ram Poppy’s car to prove a point. I thought you’d come up with something.”
Nora felt her face flush in embarrassment. “That wasn’t one of my best moments.”
“We’ve got to do something.” Heather took Nora’s hand and dragged her forward.
Bad idea. Big Elk hated Nora. He would identify her as the Devil of Kachina Ski. “Let’s just…”
“Hey!” Heather yelled.
Clever plan, Heather.
Big Elk barely glanced up. “The way to power is wealth. White people with money crave the spirituality and connection of the Hopi. They’ll buy a kachina doll or pottery in hopes some of your wisdom will rub off. We can give them what they want and help the tribe at the same time.”
His eyes rested on Heather and he lowered them to the men, never ceasing his sales pitch. His gaze swept over Nora and his lips stopped moving. He straightened.
The men in his circle turned to see what distracted him. Alex stiffened like a dog with raised hackles.
“Well, well.” Big Elk swaggered past his posse to stand in front of Nora. “It’s not enough you desecrate the sacred peak, you have to bring your vileness to the mesas?”
Heather shook her hair back. “I brought her here so she can understand the Hopi way. You’re the one destroying the ceremony.”
Big Elk raised his eyebrows. “Miss McCreary, Uranium Princess. Maybe you look Hopi but we all know you’re Daddy’s little pawn. You want to rape this land and disrupt the balance.”
The exchange drew a group of women. Except for the four young men with Big Elk, the other men must be in their kivas.
“I belong here,” Heather said with a touch of defensiveness.
Big Elk turned to Alex. “What do you think? How dedicated is she to our cause?”
Alex’s face looked as hard as his fingers around Nora’s neck, his voice as sharp as the knife that sliced her ankle. “I’ll take her back to Flagstaff.”
“You want me to leave?” Heather’s eyes couldn’t hide the betrayal she felt.
Alex looked at Big Elk, waiting instruction.
Heather scowled at Big Elk. “The Hopi way is not one of inhospitality.”
“How would you know the Hopi way?” Big Elk spat out. “You’re smoking the peace pipe with the enemy, baby.”
“She’s not the enemy,” Heather said.
Big Elk shifted his malevolent force on Nora. “You killed your husband on sacred ground and the kachinas are punishing you.”
The young men with Big Elk looked like a pack of hungry wolves waiting for their Alpha to turn them loose.
“She’s here to bring discord to the peaceful dance of the Hopi,” Big Elk said.
Alex revved like a racecar at the starting line.
Nora hoped her words wouldn’t stick in the dry desert of her throat. “Big Elk has been desecrating the sacred peak himself.”
“Enough talk,” Big Elk said.
The young men crowded behind him.
Nora heard a quiver in her voice. “The kachinas weren’t up there last night ‘bringing fire to the mountain.’ Big Elk manufactured the whole thing with some explosives and a couple of old white people.”
Confidence oozed from Big Elk like blood from a tick. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You made a good living by pretending. Why not tell them your real name, Ernie.”
Big Elk stepped closer to Alex. “Don’t listen to her. She’s a deceitful pahana.”
Her hands shook and her stomach churned. “Big Elk doesn’t know about Hopi or respect for your land. Before he became Big Elk, champion of indigenous people, he was Ernie Finklestien, robber of the helpless.”
Heather made a fist. “I knew it!”
Big Elk turned on Heather. “Go back to your white mansion. You have no business here.”
Alex’s anger roiled like a thunderstorm about to break loose.
Nora pointed at
Big Elk. “He’s importing fake Native American art he plans to sell to line his pockets and ruin your reputation. Talk about angering the kachinas.”
Destruction flashed in Big Elk’s eyes. “I gave you a chance to walk away. Now it’s too late.”
The mud-caked clown who had accosted her in the plaza pushed his way from behind Alex. “What are you doing here?”
“She’s disrupting the dance. Spreading lies and discontent,” Big Elk said.
Heather’s calm exterior melted and she sounded like a volatile teenager. “He’s the bad one. The kachinas won’t like what he’s doing.”
Big Elk directed Alex. “Get her out of here or I will.”
Heather folded her arms. “I’m staying.”
“Do it,” Big Elk said.
“All right.” The clown held up his hands in a calming gesture. “Let’s settle down.” He pointed to Heather. “She’s from a powerful clan and has a right to be here.” His gaze swung to Alex and the other young men. “I see some of you are Hopi. Go to your kivas.” He addressed the others, including Big Elk. “The rest of you are from other tribes. You’re welcome to observe the dance. But please stay in the plaza. This area is reserved for Hopi only.”
He turned to Heather. “Sikyatsi, I’m glad to see you.” His gaze held affection then he shifted gears to business. “You’re welcome here but bringing her,” he nodded in Nora’s direction, “wasn’t a good idea. She should go now.”
Gladly. With relief, Nora took a step backward.
Heather didn’t move. “She’s not leaving until he does.” She pointed at Big Elk. “He shouldn’t be here.”
The clown sighed. “He’s helping us to save our sacred mountain.”
“He’s ruining the dance and messing up the balance.” She might as well stomp her feet and cry.
Since Heather wouldn’t allow them to get while they could, Nora added, “And he’s using Hopi beliefs to manipulate you.”
Big Elk’s face turned redder than his usual sunburn. He looked over the clown’s head to the young men behind. “We can’t let this evil pahana destroy Hopi. Where will the kachinas live when the mountain is clear cut for skiing and water is pulled from the veins of the Mother and She is trampled on by white men’s skis?”
The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set Page 17