Navajo's Woman

by Beverly Barton

  LeCroy chuckled. Jewel Begay was going to meet up with Russ tomorrow at the Navajo Tribal Fair in Window Rock. The setting was perfect. He could easily slide in unnoticed, find the two teenagers and dispose of them with two quick and easy shots. Then he could blend into the crowd and simply disappear.

  Things just happened sometimes, coming together per­fectly. Like him finding out about the teenager lovers' rendezvous tomorrow. Hell, if Leo Begay hadn't told a trusted friend about his sister's predicament and that friend hadn't told some other people, then word wouldn't have reached LeCroy.

  Of course, there was always the off chance that the whole thing was a setup. A trap. He'd have to be extra careful. And being smarter than the lawmen in these parts would serve him well. He could always send in someone else to do the actual killing, but he preferred handling this job himself, just as he'd done with Bobby. However, it wouldn't hurt to have a little backup—a couple of men to distract the crowds and any law enforcement that might be on hand.

  Whatever came down tomorrow at noon, LeCroy knew one thing for certain—Russ Lapahie and Jewel Begay were going to die.

  Chapter 16

  Andi and Joe blended into the crowd at the Navajo Na­tion Fair. They had dressed so as to not draw undue at­tention by either being too "over the top" or by looking like outsiders. Joe had on jeans, a plaid western shirt with silver snaps, his well-worn boots and a small, nondescript headband. He'd also put on his silver-and-turquoise neck­lace. Andi had chosen a rust-red blouse and tiered print skirt in varying hues of the same rich color. Around her neck she had placed a necklace of turquoise with orange, spiny oyster shell and coral beads. A pair of small tur-quoise-and-silver earrings dangled from her ears. Joe had wished the bracelet she'd returned to him weren't at his house. He would have liked to see his great-grandfather's jewelry around her wrist once again.

  Joe knew Andi was nervous. Hell, he was rattled, and they had only just arrived. By the time noon rolled around, he figured Andi would be on the verge of screaming and he'd be ready to rip off heads if anything went wrong. Nothing can go wrong! an inner voice demanded.

  The powwow drums undulated between a lulling mur­mur and a demanding throb. Men and women performed ritual dances to the drums' constant rhythm. Joe and Andi stopped briefly to watch the group of Navajo men as they pounded a four-foot-wide kettledrum. Listening to the beat, Joe thought how very primitive the sound was as it blended with the music of shot-filled, tin-can gourds. Oth­ers joined the dancers, each one in turn yelping, whirling and yelping again.

  "Do you know where the lawmen have been sta­tioned?" Andi whispered as she leaned close to Joe so he could hear her over the festival din.

  "They'll be all over, mixing and mingling in the crowd, just as we're doing," he told her. "And already there are several people in place near the arts and crafts building."

  "Odd isn't it, that my shop actually has a display table in that building?" Andi said. "One of my employees, Barbara Redhorse, has been a godsend by taking over the shop's business for me ever since Russ and Eddie got mixed up in this mess."

  "Do you want to go over to the building now?" he asked, cupping Andi's elbow to guide her.

  "No, I'd rather not. Not yet."

  Joe nodded.

  He led her along a row of concessions, which the Na­vajo call "Mutton Row," where vendors served a variety of Native delicacies.

  "Would you like something to eat?" Joe asked.

  "Lord, no. If I tasted a bite, I'd throw up. My stomach is tied in thousands of knots right now."

  Joe and Andi took a tour of the fair, from carnival rides to games of skill and chance, all the while waiting for high noon to arrive. Joe noted the presence of men he recognized, each one blending into the huge crowd. Dur­ing the week of the fair, as many as 200,000 people took part in the festivities. Every motel in Window Rock and Gallup was filled to capacity. This was the largest all-Indian fair in the country. In the past the fair had been less commercialized, but then, nothing ever stayed the same. Joe sighed. Like the rest of the world, the Navajos were changing with the times. While fiercely holding on to the past, they were adapting to the present.

  Joe made eye contact with FBI agent Sawyer McNa-mara, who looked like a typical cowboy in his boots and Stetson. And when Joe caught a glimpse of DEA agent Vic Noble, he almost did a double take. The guy could easily have passed for a Navajo. Joe couldn't help won­dering if some Native American blood flowed through his veins, too.

  "What time is it?" Andi asked.

  Joe checked his watch. "Eleven-fifteen."

  "Oh, God, forty-five more minutes of this," she mur­mured. "I think I'll go crazy before then."

  Joe clasped her hand and hurried her along the midway, weaving them in and out among the shoppers perusing the silver and turquoise jewelry. Andi glanced at the hand­crafted items, obviously trying to act interested, but Joe could tell that this ploy had not taken her mind off Russ and the upcoming showdown.

  Once away from the midway, they stopped to rest under a shade tree and to watch the parade of mostly Native Americans, many dressed in vivid costumes. Navajos. Zu-nis. Hopis, Apaches and even Comanches. Suddenly Andi grabbed Joe's arm as her gaze traveled to the tall man wearing a black eye patch who meandered through the crowd a good thirty feet away. “J.T. is here,'' Andi said.

  "Hmm." Joe looked up at the sky. Bright blue and clear. Only thin, milky white clouds were scattered across the horizon. And the sun was high, almost directly over­head. "Let's walk," he said.

  "Where to?"

  "How about over there?" He pointed to a steel-shell pavilion.

  Andi chuckled. "Don't tell me that you want to go take a look at the entries in the canned food competition." "Sure, why not?"

  Before they reached the pavilion, Joe saw David Wolfe. J.T. had asked Wolfe to be here today, to act as backup. The man was the best marksman Joe had ever known. Despite the warmth of the day, Wolfe wore a jacket. Lightweight tan leather with fringe. The jacket concealed his weapon. And although the man had to be hot, not even one dot of perspiration was visible on his face. Joe men­tally shrugged. It was as if Wolfe weren't quite human, as if he didn't suffer from the same physical weaknesses as other men.

  "When is Jewel Begay supposed to get here?" Andi asked.

  Joe drew his attention away from Wolfe. "Jewel and her family are already here. They arrived shortly before we did."

  "I can only imagine what that poor girl is going through right now."

  "She's doing a brave thing today."

  "Everyone is here and in place, right?" Andi asked.

  "Right."

  "The only person who hasn't shown up, as far as we know, is Russ."

  “He could be here already but no one has spotted him yet."

  Joe grabbed her hand and pulled her along to where people were dancing to a low, soft drumming and chant­ing rhythm. He linked their arms together and led her into the circle dance, two-stepping sideways. She moved with him, keeping time to the music and allowing the beat to become a part of her. All around them people danced. Young and old alike. Husbands and wives. Fathers and daughters. Old men. Teenagers. Everyone participating. Most talked to their partners as they danced. But Joe and Andi remained silent for the duration, each allowing the music to flow through them and, even if only temporarily, remove them from reality.

  LeCroy Lanza adjusted the wire-frame glasses and checked the hem of the ground-length dress he wore. He wanted to make sure the skirt wasn't so long that it would trip him up, if it became necessary for him to run. His costume was ingenious, if he did say so himself. In this getup, neither Russ Lapahie nor Jewel Begay was likely to recognize him. Not even when he killed them. Would their last thoughts be Why did that woman shoot me?

  He had brought along a couple of his men, solely as backup. If this meeting between Russ and Jewel turned out to be some sort of trap, then he might have to leave the killing to his subordinates. And if somehow the teen­age sweethearts escaped deat
h, he had a contingency plan. He didn't want to leave the country, so departing the good old U.S.A. would be a last resort. Whatever happened, he had no intention of spending even one day in jail for Bobby Yazzi's murder.

  Russ had always loved attending the Navajo Nation Fair. Last year Eddie had taken home a blue ribbon for his prize sheep in the 4-H contest. And they'd both run off laughing after Russ had stolen a kiss from one of the Miss Navajo contestants. How could things have changed so much in a year? How could things have gone so wrong? Eddie should be here today, having fun and acting like a teenager instead of lying in a hospital bed, recu­perating from a bullet wound. And if it weren't for my stupidity, he would be, Russ reminded himself.

  Russ tried his best to mingle with the crowd and act as if he were just one more Navajo enjoying himself at the fair. He checked his watch: eleven forty-five. That gave him fifteen minutes to keep a low profile before he met up with Jewel. Suddenly, in his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of a tall man wearing a tan Stetson and a black eye patch. He turned around just enough for a second glance. J.T. Blackwood! Damn, he couldn't let J.T. see him. And if J.T. was here, then Joanna and the kids were probably somewhere close by. Any one of them, even the twins, would recognize him. Russ hurried in the other direction, weaving his way through the thicket of happy, laughing people.

  He could go to the arts and crafts building now, he told himself. The place would be crowded. Yeah, but some of the men in that crowd just might be police. He couldn't let them catch him before he talked to Jewel. He had to make sure she would back up his story before he decided what to do.

  Joe left Andi at precisely five minutes before twelve, after cautioning her to stay exactly where he left her. Close enough to see what was happening, but far enough to be out of harm's way. She promised him that she would stay put, and he had no choice but to take her at her word. Joe glanced right and left, seeking confirmation that everyone was in place. That everything was as it should be. Wolfe stood with his arms across his chest, one hand inside his jacket. In the distance Joe saw one of the plain­clothes police officers give another the signal. Russ La­pahie has been spotted.

  Joe exchanged a brief glance with Jewel Begay. The petite brunette stood stiff as a marble statue, fear etched on every feature of her pretty little face. Joe passed her without a word and stepped inside the arts and crafts building, then turned so that he could watch for Russ's approach.

  The minutes pounded inside his head with each beat of his heart. He checked the time again. Straight up noon. An operation like this never occurred on the minute, he reminded himself. Russ might not show at the arts and crafts building for another ten or fifteen minutes. The boy could be scanning the area, making sure Jewel wasn't be­ing watched. Joe hoped that no one gave himself away and alerted Russ. If Russ took much longer, there was every chance Jewel would come apart completely. Joe could tell just by looking at her that she was on the verge of an emotional collapse.

  Russ saw her standing alone in front of the arts and crafts building. She looked so pretty in her blue dress. She had plaited her hair into one long braid, which hung over her shoulder. Her gaze kept moving, looking right and left and then straight ahead again. She was looking for him, waiting impatiently. He sensed her fear and un­derstood it only too well. He was scared stiff himself. Remember to tell her how brave she is, an inner voice reminded him. And let her know how much her doing the right thing means to you. You'll owe her for the rest of your life for having the courage to tell the truth.

  Russ waited for a few minutes, watching the crowd, taking special note of everyone who went in or came out of the building where Jewel waited. He didn't see anyone he knew or anyone who looked suspicious. A group of young kids chased one another. One of them accidently ran into Jewel. She cried out and jumped as if she'd been shot. A tall, ugly woman, wearing a purple Navajo dress, an abundance of turquoise jewelry, a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and a trading-post style hat, gave the boys a dis­approving glare and shooed them away. Then she smiled at Jewel before disappearing inside the building.

  Two women, one holding a baby on her hip, passed right beside Russ. They chatted away in Saad, talking about their husbands. A white guy in a fringed leather jacket stood only a couple of feet from Russ, his attention focused on the crowd. A spectator, no doubt, here to watch the Indians in their Native habitat. Another guy stopped a few feet away from Jewel, leaned back against the wall and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He looked like he was waiting for someone, too. A girlfriend maybe or. . . But before Russ had a chance to finish the thought, the guy waved at somebody in the crowd and rushed off to join her.

  Russ walked toward the arts and crafts building. Jewel saw him. She started to lift her hand, but didn't. Her gaze locked with his, and he followed that linked stare, each step taking him closer and closer to the one person who could give him back his life.

  As he watched Russ approaching, Joe eased toward the doorway, making sure he could see but not be seen. He stood less than ten feet behind Jewel. With the girl's back to him, he had a perfect view of Russ's face. A combi­nation of fear and happiness comprised the boy's expres­sion as he drew near. A flash of purple swept past Joe as a tall Navajo woman walked out of the building. Joe thought she had to be the ugliest woman he'd ever seen and one of the biggest. She looked more like a man in drag. For a couple of seconds her body blocked Joe's view. An odd sensation hit him in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. But what? A flash of metal glistened in the sunlight. Joe's gaze traveled quickly to the big woman's hand—holding a gun! Realization hit him, like a ton of bricks falling out of the sky.

  Damn! Damn! How could he have been so blind? The woman was too tall. Too ugly. Her movements unfemi-nine. She walked like a man because. . .she was a man.

  Joe motioned to the lawmen placed strategically inside the building, then he eased outside and prepared to attack. Everything happened all at once. The pseudo-woman was right behind Jewel. Joe's first instinct was to call out a warning, but who would be alerted by his cry?

  As he raced out of the building, Joe heard Russ speak to Jewel. "Hi. Thanks for coming."

  "I'm sorry it took me so long to agree to help you," Jewel said.

  The person in the purple dress bumped into Jewel, and when Jewel turned to see who was behind her, the man-in-disguise pressed himself against her back. Only be­cause Joe was so close was he able to see that the man held a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. The knife, which could be seen only from a certain angle, was pointed downward directly at Jewel's lower back. The gun barrel glistened as the man tried to hide it in the folds of the massive purple garment.

  Jewel's face lost all color. Her eyes grew large and glazed over with sheer terror. Her lips parted on an in­drawn breath. Her mouth rounded in a silent cry. Drums boom-boomed. The drone of laughter and conversation filled the air. The yelp of dancers echoed in the distance. People milled all around them. Innocent fair-goers had no idea they were in danger.

  With only a couple of feet between them, Russ froze to the spot, directly in front of Jewel and the purple-clad angel of death. No doubt, Russ had somehow recognized Lanza. Moving as casually as possible, Joe walked around to the side of the threesome. When he did, he saw Jewel's lips moving. She was mouthing the word run to Russ. Joe realized that Lanza didn't realize he'd been spotted, that he didn't know anyone other than Jewel and Russ were aware of who he was or that he wasn't a she.

  Sunlight reflected off metal as the man lifted his arm. A wide silver bracelet circled his wrist. And a 9-mm Sig Sauer pointed directly at Russ. Three things happened si­multaneously. Andi came out of nowhere, placing herself in the line of fire as she ran toward Russ. The purple-clad man shoved a knife into Jewel's back and stepped around her fallen body to grab Russ. And a bevy of small children carrying balloons came between Wolfe and his target.

  Russ and his abductor disappeared into the crowd.

  Joe motioned to the lawmen directly behind him, and two of
ficers immediately rushed to check on Jewel. Joe grabbed Andi's arm and dragged her through the throng, then shoved her toward Wolfe. "Take care of her."

  "I can handle things for you," Wolfe said.

  "Yeah, I know you can, but it is something I need to do."

  Wolfe nodded.

  Andi realized that she had inadvertently jeopardized Russ's life and Jewel's. She had acted on instinct because she hadn't been sure that anyone else saw what was hap­pening—that the tall Navajo woman was no woman and that he had a gun in his hand.

  Andi started to follow Joe, but Wolfe held her wrist. She stared into the coldest green eyes she'd ever seen. A shiver of fear raced up her spine. "Please. I have to go with him."

  Wolfe nodded, and together they followed Joe through the crowd but didn't catch up with him. Andi suspected that Wolfe deliberately kept her a safe distance behind. She caught a glimpse of J.T.; then Bill Cummings ap­peared at J.T.'s side. She sensed more than she noticed a hum of activity, and she understood that the lawmen gath­ered at the fair were on the move.

  And then she heard the awful sounds. Gunfire. People screaming.

  Joe figured that the gunfire was between some of Lanza's goons and the law. A distraction to draw attention away from Lanza and Russ. Ignoring the uproar the gun­fire caused, Joe kept them in view—Russ and the person he felt in his gut had to be LeCroy Lanza. Once or twice he lost them in the crowd, but then caught sight of them again as they hurried through the chaotic masses.

  As frightened people ran helter-skelter, some scream­ing, Joe stayed the coarse, keeping a discrete distance be­hind his prey. He followed them to the parking area. Lanza led Russ in and out between the parked vehicles. Did the guy know he was being followed? Joe didn't think so. Lanza acted as if he thought he'd gotten away safely.

  Silent as a panther, Joe crept up on his quarry. His heart roared inside his head when, looking up from his crouched position, he saw Lanza's reflection in the rearview mirror. The guy shoved Russ up against the side of the truck and lifted the gun. Bile rose in Joe's throat. The bastard was going to shoot Russ in the head.