Navajo's Woman

by Beverly Barton

  "They could have borrowed the truck."

  "Or stole it."

  Andi gave Joe a hard look, then pulled her Expedition up alongside the truck. "You stay here. If Russ is inside, he's not going to want to see you."

  "I'll wait. But you be very careful." He grabbed her arm. "I think you should take my gun with you."

  "What?"

  "I have a rifle, too," he reminded her. "But just in case—''

  "I don't need protection from my own brother!" She jerked free from Joe's hold.

  "I wasn't thinking about Russ being a threat. You need to remember that if the boys didn't kill Bobby Yazzi, someone else did. And that someone will want the boys to keep quiet."

  "There's no way the real killer could know where the boys are." Andi opened the door, jumped down and headed toward the house. Before she reached her desti­nation, an old man appeared from inside and, shading his eyes from the sun, greeted her.

  "Ya'at'eeh," Jefferson Nastas said.

  "Mr. Nastas?" Andi asked.

  He nodded. "Hash yinilye?"

  Andi didn't speak Saad, but she knew enough of the language to understand that the old man had asked her name. Using her limited knowledge of the language, she replied, "Yinish'ye Andrea Stevens. Russ Lapahie is my brother. I was born in my mother's world of the white people. And I was born for the Red Running Into the Water clan."

  "Yes, Doli has spoken of you. She tells me you are a good woman." The old man inspected Andi thoroughly, then said, "You are looking for young Russell."

  "Is he here?"

  “He and his friend, Eddie Whitehorn, were here a few hours ago. That is their truck—the truck they borrowed." Jefferson nodded toward the old vehicle.

  "Where are they now?"

  “Who is that you have with you?'' Jefferson, who wore a pair of silver-rimmed glasses, studied the occupant of the SUV.

  Now what? Andi wondered. Did she tell Doli's uncle the truth? If Doli had spoken to him about the man she held responsible for her husband's death, how would Mr. Nastas react to meeting Joe?

  "He is a friend who has come with me to search for Russ and Eddie. He is Eddie's uncle and is as concerned about the boys as I am."

  “Tell him to get out of the car, and I will tell you both where I have sent the young braves."

  "You know where they are?"

  "Yes, I know."

  Andi motioned to Joe, her hand gestures inviting him to join her. While Joe introduced himself, Andi held her breath, wondering if Jefferson Nastas would refuse to help them once he knew Joe's identity. To her surprise, the old man's facial expression didn't alter in the least, but she did note a change in his cloudy brown eyes.

  “You are working together to save these young braves from the Ladrones. Yes?''

  Joe nodded. "Yes, Hosteen, we need to find Russ and Eddie before these bad men harm them."

  Andi noticed Jefferson Nastas's expression soften slightly when Joe referred to him with the word meaning "old man," a term of great respect.

  "I have sent Russell, Jr. and his friend up into the mountains to see Edmund Kieyoomia. He is a wise ya-taalii and will know the right way to guide two such as they."

  "You sent them to see a shaman?" Andi had spent five years trying to understand her father's people, but at times like this she wondered if she ever would. Of course, send­ing the boys to a shaman was the Native equivalent of sending them to a minister or rabbi or priest for spiritual advice. And yet, seeking out a revered shaman entailed much more, which was understood completely only by a people who believed in the magic and the power these men possessed.

  "How far away does this shaman live?" Joe asked. "And did the boys go on foot?"

  "Edmund's hogan is in the mountains. On horseback you can reach it in perhaps two hours," Jefferson said. "I let the young ones take my horses."

  "And if we drive the Expedition, how long will it—"

  "You cannot drive your vehicle. There are no roads. Only pathways."

  Great! Andi thought. Russ's great-uncle had given his horses to the boys to ride, so just how were she and Joe supposed to follow them? “Now what?'' she asked Joe.

  "Hosteen Nastas, is there somewhere we can get horses, so that we can follow Russ and Eddie to Edmund Kieyoomia's?"

  "I will ride with you in your vehicle to my eldest daughters', and there you may get two horses."

  Charlie Kirk wasn't a horseman, but it didn't take an expert to handle the mare he'd stolen. However, he wasn't accustomed to tracking his prey up into the desolate hills or trying to stay a discreet distance behind when it was possible to lose his quarry at any given moment. This godforsaken land might be the home of his grandmother and her ancestors, but he'd been born and raised in the white man's world and only a quarter of his blood tied him to the Navajo. Some folks didn't even know he had a drop of Indian blood flowing in his veins.

  When the boys dismounted and began leading their mounts, Charlie did the same. Where the hell were they going—and why? Had the old man they'd gone to see sent them to some sort of hideout up here in the moun­tains?

  He had intended to go in and kill the boys and the old man, but before he'd gotten a chance to make a move, another truck had shown up, the bed filled with half a dozen kids. They hadn't stayed long, but long enough for young Lapahie and Eddie Whitehorn to saddle up and head out. The old man had to be a relative. Only a relative would be helping the boys run from the police. And see­ing as neither Russ nor Eddie panicked and ran when the others showed up out of nowhere meant they had to be family, too.

  Charlie tied the reins around a tree to secure his horse, then climbed up the rocky pathway. When he reached the top he saw an old stone hogan, a smokestack protruding through the mud roof. Wonder who lives here? Charlie mused. Another relative?

  He waited while the boys tied their reins to a wooden hitching post outside the hogan, then went to the door and knocked. A couple of minutes later, the door opened and the boys went inside.

  He figured that as small as the hogan was, there couldn't be more than two or three other people inside, but more than likely it was just some old hermit living way up here in the middle of nowhere. Charlie would simply bide his time and see if anyone else came or went. Then, when his instincts told him it was time to act, he'd move in—for the kill.

  Joe dismounted and then assisted Andi. They led the horses, borrowed from Jefferson Nastas's son-in-law, the rest of the way up the uneven slope. The first thing Joe noticed when they reached the top and saw the stone ho­gan was that the shaman's home had been constructed according to tradition, the builder following the Navajo Way. One doorway, facing the east. East was the direction of all beginnings.

  "Look—" Andi pointed. "The door is open."

  "I don't see any horses around, do you?"

  "No. And I don't like it. Something's wrong here. I can just feel it."

  "We couldn't be more than a few hours behind those boys," Joe said. "Damn it! I was sure they'd still be here."

  "They're taking us on a wild-goose chase, aren't they. If only we could catch them and talk to them. We have to make them understand the danger they're in from the real killer."

  "They're a couple of frightened boys who obviously aren't thinking straight and don't realize that they would be safer in police custody than running around on their own." Joe grasped Andi's arm. "You stay out here while I go in and talk to Edmund Kieyoomia. It's possible that he advised the boys to give themselves up to the Tribal Police, and they're headed back to civilization right now."

  "We can only hope that they're safe and that the sha­man did advise them to do the right thing." Andi clutched Joe's hand and forcefully removed it from her arm. "Why should I stay out here?''

  "I want you to wait until I check things inside. You're right about something being wrong. Things don't seem quite right to me, either. I've got an odd feeling."

  "What sort of odd feeling? Mine's a sick churning in my stomach, as if we're walking into big trouble."
r />   "Mine's a gut reaction, too." Joe visually surveyed the area around the hogan. "It'll be dark in a couple of hours, so why didn't Eddie and Russ just stay the night and then head out at daybreak? They couldn't know that we were following them. This is unfamiliar territory to them, and they could easily get lost once the sun sets."

  "You think something—"

  "I'm not thinking anything," he told her. "Not until I've spoken with the shaman."

  "All right. I'll stay here. You go on in and then come right back out and let me know that everything is all right."

  Joe nodded, then removed the rifle from the leather sheath attached to the saddle. Andi gasped. He gave her a warning glare to stay where she was and to be quiet.

  The door stood wide open. Carefully, ever mindful that anything or anyone could be waiting inside for him, Joe entered the hogan. It took his eyes a couple of minutes to adjust to the semidarkness inside the round structure. The sparsely furnished interior had been ransacked. Tables and chairs overturned. A kerosene lamp broken. Unease ate away at Joe's gut like a strong acid.

  Then he saw the figure of an ancient Navajo sprawled half on the bed, half on the floor, his long white hair matted with red blood, barely dried. On closer inspection, Joe realized that this weathered man of indiscernible age must be Edmund Kieyoomia. The revered shaman had been shot—once in the head. But his body showed signs of having been severely beaten. Joe would bet his life that this was not the handiwork of two scared boys on the run. Whoever had killed the old yataalii had fought with him first, and from the looks of the room it appeared that Ed­mund Kieyoomia had put up quite a struggle.

  Joe knew that once the shaman's body was removed, through a corpse hole made in the north side of the hogan, the house would be boarded up, but the corpse hole would be left open as a warning. A body could be taken away from the house, but the evil chindi would remain forever.

  "Joe!" Andi called from the doorway. "What's keep­ing you so long?"

  Damn! Why couldn't she have stayed outside where he'd left her? "Don't come in—"

  She rushed into the hogan, took one look at the scene before her and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  Chapter 6

  Joe rushed to Andi, grabbed her and dragged her outside, then pulled her into his arms and held her while she shiv­ered uncontrollably. "Calm down." He rubbed her back, comforting her as best he could. "The old shaman is dead. There's nothing we can do to help him."

  Andi sucked in several deep breaths, then lifted her head and stared into Joe's dark eyes. "I'm okay. Hon­estly. It's just. . .well, seeing. . ." She disengaged herself from Joe's hold. "What do you think happened? You don't believe that Russ—"

  "Neither Russ nor Eddie killed the shaman," Joe re­assured her. "My guess is that Bobby Yazzi's real mur­derer, or someone he has hired to hunt down the boys, did this."

  "Oh, God!" She grabbed the front of Joe's jacket. “Does that mean he—he. . . ? If he caught Russ and Eddie here, he would have killed them, too."

  "We can't be a hundred percent sure that the boys were

  even here," Joe told her. "But my guess is that whoever's tracking them followed them here. From the looks of the shaman, I'd say he fought his attacker. Since there would have been no reason for the boys to leave before morning, I figure that Edmund Kieyoomia detained the tracker so that Eddie and Russ could get away."

  "You think he saved their lives?"

  "I do."

  "Now what? Where could the boys have gone from here? Where do we go from here?"

  "We return to Jefferson Nastas's home," Joe said. "My guess is that Russ and Eddie will go back there to pick up the track. They don't know these hills and I think they're smart enough to realize their best bet is to get away from this part of the country as fast as possible."

  "So what are the odds the boys will still be at Mr. Nastas's when we get back there?"

  "I'd say not good," Joe admitted. "I think we probably crossed paths with the boys on our way up here. They could have seen or heard us and kept out of sight until we passed and then they went straight down to get the track."

  "Maybe they'll tell Mr. Nastas where they're going," Andi said hopefully.

  Joe shook his head. "They'll know that not only are we looking for them, but that the person who killed the old shaman is still after them, too. If they're gone when we get back, our best bet is to go straight to the nearest Tribal Police station and report the murder scene we found here and let the authorities know the boys have a track. Possibly a stolen track. And that someone—probably the person who killed Mr. Kieyoomia—is following Eddie and Russ."

  "I can't believe you're willing to trust the police."

  "I want to find the boys and I'd like to do it before the police do," Joe said. "But the police aren't our enemy and they aren't the boys' enemy either. They're in a po­sition to help us locate the boys. It's better for Eddie and Russ if the police find them first and not the killer. If you have a better suggestion on where to go from here, then tell me."

  Andi balled her hands into tight fists. "I don't know." Andi fumed. "But I do know that if we go to the police and tell them we found the shaman's body, then they're going to ask us what we were doing and—''

  "And we will tell them the truth."

  "What if the police think the boys killed Mr. Kie­yoomia? Aren't they in enough trouble already?"

  "Withholding the truth will not help Eddie and Russ."

  "Oh, yes, by all means, let's make sure the truth comes out. It doesn't matter who gets hurt by the truth. You haven't changed at all. You still have to do everything by the book!" Andi stormed away from Joe, stomping around the side of hogan in an effort to vent her frustra­tion.

  Hell! He couldn't say or do anything right as far as Andi was concerned. Her problem was that she always thought with her heart and not with her head. But she was a woman. What else could he expect? She said that he hadn't changed—hell, she hadn't changed any, either. She was still only too willing to prejudge him, to assume the worst about him. Why couldn't she understand that help­ing Eddie and Russ was as important to him as it was to her? Yes, he did hold Russ responsible for dragging Eddie into a bad situation, but that didn't mean he blamed the boy for anything else. Certainly not murder.

  Joe looked around and didn't see Andi, so he circled the hogan and found her on the far side, bent over, picking something up off the ground. He halted and waited until she had the object in her hand before he approached her. "What did you find?"

  She jumped and gasped. "Damn it, you scared me half to death."

  "Sorry." He glanced down at the square brown wallet she held.

  "What have you got there?" When she hesitated and clutched the object all the tighter, Joe suspected she rec­ognized the item. "Does it belong to Russ?"

  "Yes," she replied, her gaze meeting Joe's, her ex­pression issuing him a warning. "It's Russ's. I gave it to him this past Christmas. It's handmade and one of a kind."

  "Look through it and see if you find anything that might help us."

  "I'm surprised you trust me. I'd think you'd want to do it yourself."

  "I trust you a lot more than you trust me." He nodded to the wallet. "Take a look."

  She opened the wallet and inspected it thoroughly. "Four dollars. His driver's license. A picture of Doli and me. One of our father. A library card. That's it."

  "Nothing to help us. Nothing to give us a clue as to where they might be going from here."

  "Joe?"

  "Yes?"

  "Will you tell the police about this wallet?"

  "It's evidence," he replied, then turned and walked away.

  He had to contact the police as soon as possible and tell them about finding the shaman's body. Of course, the authorities would want to know why he and Andi had made a trek up into the mountains to see the old man. He wouldn't lie about that. Besides, it wouldn't do any good to lie. Too many people knew about his and Andi's search for their kinsman.

  But d
id he have to mention that Andi had found Russ's wallet? If he were totally honest, he would. But in what way would telling the police about the wallet help them track down Edmund Kieyoomia's murderer? If he said anything about the wallet, Andi would see it as yet an­other betrayal.

  What the hell was he going to do?

  "They left my horses and took the truck," Jefferson Nastas said. "I could see that they were frightened, but when I asked, they would not say why."

  "How long ago were they here?" Joe asked.

  "Just as the sun set, they came. I asked them to stay the night, but they would not. They said they must go, that if they stayed I would be in danger, too."

  "Did they tell you where they were going?" Andi asked.

  “No. They only said to tell you both that they will not come home. Russ said this to me. The other one, he said nothing."

  Andi eyed Joe, waiting for his response, knowing that Mr. Nastas's comment only gave credence to Joe's as­sumption that everything was Russ's fault, that her brother had dragged Eddie into this intolerable situation, into in­escapable danger.

  "Mr. Nastas, Andi and I are going from here to the police station in Echo City," Joe explained. "We will report the murder of Edmund Kieyoomia. I'm sure the police will want to question you."

  "The young braves did not do this bad thing," Jeffer­son said. "I will tell the police I believe this."

  "Thank you," Andi said. "We, too, know that Russ and Eddie aren't murderers."

  At least, she knew it, Andi thought. And surely Joe did, too. He kept saying that he didn't think Russ was capable of murder, but was he only telling her what he thought she wanted to hear? If he gave the police Russ's wallet, she'd know how he truly felt. If Joe believed Russ was innocent, there would be no need to implicate him, to give the police evidence that would prove her brother had been at the scene of a second murder. Was Joe capable of bend­ing his principles just a fraction in order to protect some­one she loved?

  They said their goodbyes to Jefferson Nastas and headed out for Echo City, the nearest town. Joe asked to drive, and she gladly handed over the keys. She didn't know how to get to Echo City without a map and she hated trying to find an unknown place when she was driv­ing in the dark.