Navajo's Woman

by Beverly Barton

  “Andi, neither Joe nor I—'' J.T. tried to explain.

  Without breaking eye contact with Joe, Andi said, “Joe can speak for himself, can't he?"

  "The police are going to see this discovery as evidence against Russ," Joe admitted. "But it's possible that the real killer had the gun planted near Russ's home for that very reason."

  "There were no fingerprints on the gun," J.T. said. "So whoever disposed of it had wiped it clean."

  "If Russ had used the gun, why would he wipe off his fingerprints and then toss the gun into a water trough on his family's property?" Andi glanced over her shoulder at J.T. "That doesn't make any sense, does it?"

  "Not to me," J.T. said. "And not to Joe."

  Andi looked back at Joe.

  "At this point we can't be certain of anything," Joe said, "but I tend to agree with J.T. And with you. Some­one probably planted the weapon. The same someone who caught up with the boys at Hosteen Keiyoomia's."

  "I'd say this guy is a hired gun," J.T. surmised. "He knows his business. That means he could still be follow­ing Russ and Eddie, and perhaps. . ." J.T. paused, obvi­ously not wanting to verbalize his thought.

  “He could have caught up with them,'' Andi finished. "That is what you're thinking, isn't it?"

  "It's possible," J.T. replied.

  “So where does that leave us?'' Andi asked.

  “It leaves us trying to figure out where the boys would have gone next." J.T. rubbed his chin. "Andi, is there anywhere else Russ might go for help? Anyone other than Doli's uncle, whom Russ might think would hide Eddie and him?"

  "No one comes to mind." Andi sighed. "I can call Doli and see if she has any other ideas. But I'm not sure she'll be much help. After that gun was found on her property, she probably went into a tailspin."

  "I've given it a great deal of thought," J.T. said. "And if we don't get some sort of lead soon, I think Joe and I will have to call in some favors and bring in a few Dundee agents to help in the search. The more men on the job, the better our chances."

  Eddie Whitehorn had torn a piece of material from the hem of his shirt and tied it around his forehead, covering the gash and the swollen bruise that resulted from his head hitting the windshield. He'd bled quite a bit, but after he'd applied the makeshift bandage, the blood finally clotted and dried. The impact with the steering wheel had mo­mentarily knocked the breath out of Russ, but he didn't seem to be badly hurt. They'd had no choice but to leave the truck there in the ditch, since Russ couldn't get it to start up again.

  Luckily they hadn't been far from another sheep ranch that adjoined Eddie's family's property, that of his mother's cousin. Even in the dark, Eddie had been able to find the way there. They had hidden in the small lean-to that the family used as a tool shed. Exhausted from their mad run from Arizona back to New Mexico, they'd slept for several hours, until Eddie's cousin, Clara Gilbert, who was only twelve, discovered them.

  "I promise I won't tell anyone that I've seen you," Clara said. "But you'd better stay here out of sight for now. I'll bring you some food and water, and then you'll have to go before Mama finds out you're here. She'll be sure to call Kate."

  Russ grabbed Clara's thin, brown arm. "Would you do me a favor?"

  "What sort of favor?"

  “Call somebody for me, would you?''

  “Who do you want me to call? I thought you and Eddie didn't want anyone to know where you are."

  "I want you to call Jewel Begay. She's sort of my girlfriend. Tell her that you're Eddie's cousin and that I need for her to go to the police and tell them what really happened the night Bobby Yazzi was killed."

  "Your girlfriend was there?" Clara's large brown eyes widened with interest. "I thought you and Eddie went there alone."

  "Yeah, well, we didn't," Eddie said. "The truth is that we had a couple of girls with us, and they drove off and left us there."

  "I'll have to wait until Mama comes out to feed the chickens, to make the call and get you some food." Clara pointed to the rag tied around Eddie's head. "What's that for? Are you trying to look like an Indian?'' She grinned, showing a set of perfect white teeth.

  "Ah, I got a scratch when we wrecked our truck," Eddie said. "It wouldn't stop bleeding."

  "Are you okay?" she asked.

  "I'm okay."

  But he wasn't. Eddie didn't think he'd ever be okay again. Whenever he allowed himself to think about what was happening, he felt hopeless. He and Russ could stay on the run for only so long before someone caught up with them. The police. The killer. Or Uncle Joe. He prayed it would be his uncle. If he did what he really wanted to do, what he knew he should do, he'd go home. Then his parents could drive him to the police station to turn himself in. But Russ was determined to keep running, and there was no way Eddie would desert his best friend. They were in this together. To the end, whatever that end might be.

  "Stay out of sight," Clara repeated. "I'll be back as soon as I can. By the way, what is Jewel's phone num­ber?"

  "Don't you need to write it down?" Russ asked.

  "No, just tell it to me and I'll remember."

  The very second Russ finished reciting the number, Clara rushed out of the lean-to and ran toward the back door of her house.

  Russ released a long, loud sigh of relief. "Man, that was close. Lucky for us your cousin isn't going to turn us in. She's a pretty good kid."

  "You have to know it's only a matter of time before somebody finds that truck we stole," Eddie said. "The police will search my parents' place and here, too, since it's so close to where we left the truck. Unless we intend to turn ourselves in, we'd better get going soon."

  "Yeah, you're right. It's just, I haven't figured out yet where to go from here."

  "I know a place where we can hide out for a while," Eddie said. "It's someplace nobody ever goes anymore. But we'll have to borrow a couple of horses, and I hate the thought of stealing from Clara's family. I wish we had some money."

  "I had four bucks in my wallet, before I lost it." Russ patted his hip pocket. "But that wouldn't have bought us a ride on a horse, let alone the horse itself."

  "I'll tell Clara to tell her parents that we— No, I can't do that. If she tells them that we only borrowed the horses, then they'll know we were here."

  "Look, when this is all over, you can explain. They're family, right? They'll understand that we only did what we had to do."

  Fifteen minutes later, Clara sneaked out the back door of the house and scurried toward the lean-to. Eddie held his breath as he watched her heading in their direction. When her foot tripped over a large rock, she almost dropped the sack she held in her arms.

  The minute she entered the shack, she thrust the paper bag at Eddie. "Here's some candy bars and canned colas and fruit. That's the best I could do."

  “Did you call Jewel?'' Russ asked.

  "Yes, I called her, but the minute I told her I was Eddie Whitehorn's cousin, she told me never to call her again— and then she hung up."

  "Damn!" Russ kicked the dirt floor, stirring up dust.

  "I called her right back," Clara said.

  Hope glimmered in Russ's eyes—momentary hope dashed by Clara's next words.

  "She hung up on me again."

  "Well, I'm screwed. She's the only other eyewitness to what happened at Bobby Yazzi's." Russ nodded to­ward the rickety wooden door. "We'd better get going."

  Eddie laid his hand on his cousin's shoulder. "Clara, Russ and I need to borrow a couple of horses."

  "My father takes me to school on his way to work. We usually leave about the same time Mama and Uncle Will herd the sheep out to graze," she explained. "Wait here until you hear the truck start up, then it should be safe to take two of the horses from the corral."

  "Thank you for helping us." Eddie squeezed Clara's arm.

  "You are family," she said, as if no other explanation was necessary.

  Becoming more and more frustrated by the minute, Joe paced the floor. Andi and J.T. had been making phone cal
ls for the past two hours, contacting every friend, ac­quaintance and relative on the reservation and asking them to pass along the word that any clue to the boys' where­abouts was desperately needed. In the meantime, Joe had phoned Ellen Denby and lined up a contingency force— four Dundee agents would be on "ready" for the next twenty-four hours and could fly to New Mexico the mo­ment Joe gave the word.

  Andi slumped down in one of the wingback chairs, dropped J.T.'s cell phone in her lap and let out a long, low sigh. "Where are they? Where the hell are they?"

  Leaning his hip against the edge of his desk, his booted feet crossed at the ankles, J.T. replaced the receiver on the telephone.

  Before he had a chance to comment on Andi's rhetor­ical question, the phone rang.

  "Blackwood Ranch," J.T. said. "Yeah? When? Are you combing the area?"

  Andi shot up out of the chair. Joe ceased his pacing. They approached J.T. just as he said, "Thank you," and hung up.

  "Who was that?" Andi asked.

  "Was it word on the boys?" Instinctively Joe reached out to touch Andi, a gesture of comfort and support, but stopped himself short of placing his hand on her back.

  "That was Bill Cummings," J.T. said. "They found Mr. Lovato's stolen truck in a ditch. Looked like it had gone through a guardrail and wrecked. No sign of the boys, but there was blood on the windshield, probably from where one of the boys hit his head."

  "Oh, God, what if one or both of them are hurt?" Andi grabbed J.T.'s arm.

  "If they'd been seriously hurt, they wouldn't have gone far," J.T. told her.

  "Where did the police find the truck?" Joe asked.

  "About fifteen miles from Ed and Kate's place." J.T. patted Andi's hand. "About five miles west of Arthur and Frances Gilbert's ranch."

  "Have the police contacted the Gilberts?" Andi re­leased her hold on J.T.'s arm.

  "They didn't find anyone home, but since Frances and Will take care of the sheep, Bill said his men were out looking for them."

  "The Gilberts are relatives. There's a good chance that Eddie might have felt safe going there." Joe had attended the Navajo Community College with Frances's husband, Arthur Gilbert, and the two had once been friends. He and his sister had grown up with their cousins, Frances and Will, and Kate and Frances remained close friends to this day.

  "Wouldn't the Gilberts have notified Kate if the boys showed up at their house?" Andi glanced at Joe.

  "I'm sure she would have." Joe wished he could erase the worry he saw in Andi's eyes, wished that he could find a way to make things right for her. "But at this point, we don't have another lead. I think we should head out to the Gilberts' ranch and see if the police have found Frances."

  "I agree," Andi said. "I'll go crazy if we have to sit around here waiting."

  "You two go ahead." J.T. hitched his thumb toward the door. "I'll hold down the fort here, and if I get any word on the boys I'll call you immediately."

  "Thanks, J.T." Joe nodded curtly and exchanged a knowing glance with his cousin, each understanding that J.T. didn't want to leave Joanna alone for very long, just in case she went into labor.

  Frances Gilbert was a petite woman with huge dark eyes and a round, full face. She offered her guests refresh­ments and when they declined, she sat with them in her small living room cluttered with mismatched furniture. Navajo blankets adorned the back of the worn sofa and hung on two walls.

  "I told the police that we have not seen Eddie and his friend, Russ," Frances said.

  “Although we have not seen them, we think they were here." Will looked directly at Joe. "We believe that Clara may have helped them."

  "Clara?" Andi repeated.

  "My daughter," Frances replied. "She and Eddie have known each other all their lives, and if he came here, she would have done what she could to help him and she would have kept his presence a secret."

  "What makes you think Clara helped Eddie?" Joe asked.

  "There are canned colas, candy bars and some fruit missing from the kitchen," Frances told them. "And two of our five horses are gone. Clara probably 'loaned' them the horses so they could get away."

  "Or maybe they just took the horses," Joe mumbled under his breath. "You didn't tell the police about the missing horses?"

  "No," Will said. "We waited to tell you so that you could decide if this is something the police should know."

  "Thank you." Joe stood. "Now all we have to do is figure out where the boys went from here."

  "In my estimation, they were heading southwest when they left here," Will said. "Once the police were gone, I looked for signs and followed some tracks for several miles. I believe the tracks were made by our horses."

  "That means they're going toward Painted Canyon," Joe said. “Eddie knows that region like the back of his hand." He grabbed Andi's arm, jerked her up out of the chair and held her wrist. "Come on. I've got a good idea where they've gone."

  "Thank y'all so very much." Andi glanced back and smiled graciously at Frances, before Joe led her out into the yard. As they neared her SUV, she snatched her wrist from his grasp. "You could have just asked me to come with you. You didn't have to manhandle me."

  "Stop complaining about everything!" Joe opened the SUV's passenger door. "Get in."

  "What's turned you into the grouch of the century?"

  "If I'm the grouch of the century, then you are the shrew of the century."

  "Touché." Andi shrugged. "Okay, so now that we agree that you're a grouch and I'm a shrew, how about telling me where we're going?"

  "I'm fairly certain I know where Eddie and Russ have gone. And if I'm right, they could be in big trouble if the guy hunting them finds them before we do."

  Andi jumped into the Expedition and slammed the door, while Joe circled behind the vehicle, got in and slid behind the wheel. Before he started the engine, Joe re­moved his cell phone and tossed it to Andi.

  “Call J.T. and tell him to meet us at the old abandoned uranium mine." Joe revved the motor, shifted into reverse and backed out onto the road.

  "An old mine? What makes you think the boys went there?"

  "Because seven years ago, a madman held Joanna Blackwood captive in the abandoned mine, which is southwest of here. Eddie will remember the incident and recall that the old mine is a good hiding place."

  "If it's a good hiding place, then why won't the boys be safe there?"

  "Because there is only one way in and one way out," Joe told her. "There was a cave-in at the back entrance a few months after J.T. rescued Joanna. So, if the man following Eddie and Russ finds them in the mine, they will have no escape route, except straight into him."

  They traveled over the rough terrain, jostling up and down as the Expedition whipped up a cloud of dust be­hind them. Andi gasped when Joe took the turnoff onto a dirt trail, which she assumed lead to the old mine.

  "How much farther?" Andi gripped the edge of the seat on either side of her thighs.

  "Not far. A couple of miles." His gaze focused on the hills spreading out in front of them.

  The last time Andi had prayed this fervently had been when her father died. She knew Joe well enough to realize that he was worried—very worried. And his concern only added to her own.

  As they neared the mine, Andi recognized J.T.'s truck parked alongside an older model black Jeep Cherokee. Had he brought someone with him? she wondered.

  Joe flew in beside J.T.'s truck, stopped, released his seat belt immediately and hopped out of the Expedition. J.T. met him in front of the SUV. Andi struggled with her safety belt, her hands trembling and her heart racing madly. She could hear the men talking in hushed tones. What were they saying? Damn it! Finally the catch gave on the seat belt and she hurriedly flung open the door and rushed to join Joe and J.T.

  "No sign of the horses," J.T. said. "Either the boys aren't here or the horses ran off by themselves."

  “Whose Jeep?'' Andi nodded to the nearby vehicle.

  "Good question," J.T. replied. "Don't suppose the boys stole
it, do you?"

  "Let's hope so," Joe said, his mouth curving into a mockery of a smile. “But my gut instincts are telling me something else."

  "You think the man who killed the old shaman tracked the boys here and has them trapped inside the mine, don't you." Andi shuddered at the thought that Russ and Eddie might both be dead.

  "There's only one way to find out," Joe told her.

  "I brought an extra rifle," J.T. said.

  "Get it," Joe told him. "I'll leave mine with Andi, just in case she needs a weapon with a long range."

  "What do you mean you'll leave your rifle with me?" she demanded. "Are you planning on leaving me here, going in the mine without me?"

  "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm planning to do."

  Assessing the situation quickly, Andi accepted defeat without putting up too much of a fight. The odds were two-to-one against her. If she'd thought she could reason with J.T., she'd have given it a try, but she understood only too well that these two Navajo men were in agree­ment; neither was willingly going to allow a woman to put her life at risk.

  “Do you have any idea how to use a rifle?'' Joe asked her.

  "Believe it or not, that's something I've learned how to do in the past five years. My little brother taught me."

  "Good." Joe grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the SUV's open passenger door. "Get in, lock the doors and keep my rifle handy. And if someone comes out of the mine—someone other than J.T. or me—do not try to capture him yourself. Do I make myself clear?''

  "Clear as a bell!"

  Joe boosted her up and into the SUV, then slammed the door. She did as he had commanded. She locked the doors. After watching Joe and J.T. for several minutes as they headed up the hill toward the entrance to the mine, she reached down and ran her hand over the rifle that lay on the floor, then lifted it onto her lap. She returned her attention to the two men climbing up the hillside.

  An odd feeling of foreboding washed over her, almost drowning her with fear. She wanted to get out of the SUV, run toward Joe and J.T. and shout a warning. But she forced herself to stay put.