“Shimasání, come with us next time!”
Ella looked at her daughter. “Hey, we did all right by ourselves, didn’t we?”
Dawn nodded but said nothing.
Ella smiled at her mother. “She really did miss you.”
“I missed her, and even you, daughter.” Rose smiled at Ella, and gave her a hug as well.
Dawn had to tell her all about the trip, and chattered on almost nonstop until it was time for her to go to bed. Tonight, Rose insisted on reading her bedtime story. Truth was, she’d really missed her granddaughter, and she wanted to spend just a little more time with her.
Rose heard the phone ring as Dawn finally started getting sleepy. Rose was thankful that Ella picked it up quickly. Dawn fell asleep halfway through the story, and Rose tiptoed out. As she stepped into the kitchen, Ella was waiting there for her, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.
“Mother, how could you not call me?”
“I’m capable of reading her a bedtime story by myself, daughter.”
“Don’t play innocent. I know you heard the phone. I just spoke to Justine and you know darned well what I’m talking about.”
Rose exhaled loudly. “It was my fault, I forgot to lock the back door, and someone got inside. But Two ran him off. That’s all there was to it. You know, there was a time when locks weren’t needed here.”
“Mother, quit avoiding the real issue. Just about anything could have happened to you. Don’t you see that?”
“But it didn’t, and that’s what we have to focus on.”
“When did our roles switch?” Ella asked, exasperated. “You used to worry about me. Now here I am, worrying about you.”
“Balance. That’s something that will help us both walk in beauty.”
Ella shook her head. “Mom, all I wanted was for you to live a nice settled life. Is that too much to ask?”
Hearing Ella saying the same thing she’d told her daughter countless times, Rose glanced up quickly and, seeing the twinkle in Ella’s eyes, burst out laughing.
The following morning, after Dawn had gone off to day-school and Ella had left for work, Rose sat outside in the porch with Two. She needed time to think, so she was going to spend a quiet morning at home.
She’d only been sitting there for five minutes when she saw a vehicle coming up the road. A moment later a young woman pulled up in a green pickup. Rose invited her in, recognizing Ben Tso’s granddaughter, Mae.
“Granddad asked me to stop by today and give you a message,” Mae said. “He spoke to a patient of his about the Plant Watcher who used to live over past Teec Nos Pos.”
Rose knew she meant Charlie Dodge, and her heart began to beat faster.
“Apparently he was seen with a tall man, maybe an Anglo. That’s not much of a description, but that’s all he was able to get from his patient. The woman lives out by Beclabito, and had spoken to the Watcher on the same day his body was found at the bottom of Rabbit Bluff. She told granddad that, as she was leaving, she glanced back and saw a truck drive up. Then a tall light-skinned man got out and joined the Plant Watcher.”
“Did the Watcher and the Anglo stay there, or did they leave?” Rose asked quickly.
“They each got into their own pickup and drove up a dirt trail toward Rabbit Bluff.”
“Your grandfather’s patient has to tell the police. It’s very important.”
“Grandfather knows that, and tried to convince her, but she refused. She doesn’t like to talk to people she doesn’t know, especially about dead people.”
“Can you tell me who she is? I may be able to talk to her and make her understand.”
“No. Granddad said to tell you that he’ll talk to her again, but he can’t say anything more unless his patient allows it. He also asked that you not try to find out who it is because this has to be her decision.”
Rose bit back her frustration. It shouldn’t have surprised her. This was the way things usually worked on the reservation. Traditionalists, particularly the older ones, seldom trusted the police department, an institution they saw as an invention created to uphold bilagáana laws.
“Ask him to insist, if he can. It’s possible that Anglo man was the last person to see our friend alive. It’s also possible he’s the one who’s been taking our plants.” As Mae nodded, she continued. “By any chance did his patient happen to mention seeing a gas company truck?”
Her eyes grew wide. “No. Don’t tell me that they’re going to put up housing in that beautiful spot!”
“I don’t know if they are. I’ve just heard reports of a gas company truck appearing at some very unlikely places.”
“She didn’t mention it as far as I know. But traditionalists who choose to live way out there between Beclabito and the state line don’t like the way the towns are encroaching on old reservation communities. If Granddad’s patient had seen a gas service truck, I’m sure it would have bothered her enough to tell him about it.” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go now.”
“Thank you for stopping by.”
Rose went inside the house and called a friend of hers at the gas company. “Susan, I’ve been hearing about a gas service truck driving around in places where there aren’t any utilities,” She said, giving her the general locations. “Do you have any idea what it might have been doing there?”
“We have no new developments we’re working on, so that’s not it. My guess is someone was taking a lunch break.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Anytime. That ointment you made when my daughter had that terrible rash really took care of things for her. I’m glad I was finally able to do something for you in return.”
As Rose hung up, frustration rippled through her. She still wasn’t sure what part—if any—the gas company truck played. For all she knew, the employee was trying to scout out a secluded spot to be with a girlfriend or boyfriend.
Rose went out to work in her garden. Sometimes it was the only thing that cleared her mind. She was busy pulling newly sprouted weeds in one section while the hose soaked another when she heard the phone ring.
Rose went back into the kitchen, promising herself that the next time Ella offered to buy a cordless, she’d say yes.
Before she even picked up the receiver, her stomach tightened. The news the caller would bring would upset her.
Rose forced herself to pick up the receiver anyway.
“It’s Kevin,” he said.
“Good morning.”
“I have some news for you. You know that I still serve as a tribal attorney?”
“Yes.”
“In that capacity, I’m now taking care of some business associated with your friend—the Plant Watcher who passed away.”
Rose scarcely breathed. She wondered if he was about to tell her that Charlie’s killer had been found—or, at the very least, that the police had accepted the fact that he had been murdered.
“The deceased left a letter asking that when he died, his body should be buried in a particular spot just north of the old Hogback trading post, at least where it used to be, but we haven’t been able to find any surviving family members who can carry this out. The tribe buries all unclaimed bodies in a tribal cemetery.” He paused, then added, “I thought you’d want to know.”
Burials … the dead … She wasn’t sure she could handle any of this. “Isn’t there any way for the tribe to honor his request? He was a military veteran, and did so much for the tribe by working with the Plant People.”
“We’ll never be able to go through the paperwork necessary in time to get it done. Later on, though, his body could be moved, I suppose. I wouldn’t have said anything to you, but you were mentioned in his letter, and his modest savings account is now yours.”
The news surprised her, and made her miss Charlie even more. “Give me a while to think about how to take care of this. Is his body in Arizona? I thought that they might do a medical workup just to make sure it wasn’t murder.”
“The official making the final decision has read the patrolman’s report and concluded that it was an accident.”
“They’re wrong, you know,” she said quietly.
“It was their call,” he said firmly.
“All right. Give me a few hours to figure out a few things, then I’ll be in touch with you,” Rose said.
As she placed the phone down, her hand began to tremble, then her body. Charlie Dodge’s final request had to be honored, and if there was no one else, it fell onto her to see that it was done.
Rose took a deep breath, and then looked up Dr. Carolyn Roanhorse-Lavery’s office number. If anyone could help her now, it would be the tribe’s medical examiner.
Rose dialed the number and Carolyn answered after the second ring.
Rose explained why she was calling, though she couldn’t bring herself to mention Charlie’s name out loud, even knowing Carolyn wouldn’t have been concerned. “I follow traditional ways. Can you help me find anyone who would be willing to dig the grave and bring the coffin?”
“There’s an Anglo man who often works for me. I think he’d be happy to help you.”
“I have another favor to ask,” Rose said in a heavy voice. “I believe my friend was murdered—probably pushed off that cliff, a place called Rabbit Bluff, over by Teec Nos Pos and just on the Arizona side of the reservation. My friend wouldn’t have jumped or gone so close to the edge willingly because he was so afraid of heights, so you might be able to tell if he put up a fight. I asked the police to look into it, but the investigating officer apparently just looked at the position of the body and wrote it down as an accident. I’m sure that if you examine the body, you’ll be able to find some evidence that will make them investigate a little further.”
Carolyn remained silent for several moments. “All right. I’m not busy right now, which is a good thing, I suppose, so I’ll do it for you. But, just so you know, I would have said no to anyone else who’d asked me the same thing. The paperwork on this is going to be tricky.”
“You’ll be doing the tribe a great service,” Rose said.
“But if you’re wrong, all this is going to cost the tribe some money.” She took a deep breath. “No, never mind. I’ll cover the expense in my budget somehow.”
“You won’t have to do that once you find something. I’m right about this,” Rose said firmly.
Carolyn said nothing for what seemed an eternity. “I believe you,” she said at last. “Over the years, I’ve learned that the intuitions the women in your family have are as reliable as the next sunrise. I know the numbers to call, so I’d better get to it. I’ll be in touch with you later.”
Rose placed the phone down, tension gripping her body. She wasn’t wrong—and, now, everyone would know—including the killer, who’d thought his crime wouldn’t be discovered.
The following afternoon, Rose got the call she’d been waiting for.
“I’ve finished the autopsy,” Carolyn said. “Tissue and fluid samples will have to be analyzed, but I have preliminary results. Your friend didn’t die from the fall.”
“I knew it,” Rose said quietly.
“But it wasn’t murder. Not exactly, anyway. He died of a heart attack. He may have fallen as a result—or it’s possible the heart attack was caused when someone threatened to push him off the cliff. But your instincts were right. There’s more to this case than meets the eye. I’ve sent the results to the homicide investigator at the Chinle Police Station, and after he checked with his superiors, he called back and told me that the case will be reopened.”
Rose exhaled softly. “It’s a beginning.”
“I’ve also found someone who will take the body from our morgue to where he wanted to be buried, behind that old trading post. It’s the Anglo man I told you about. The burial will take place in about two hours.”
“I’ve got to visit my son first for a special medicine bundle, then I’ll go straight there. But I won’t come all the way to the grave site. My friend knew me too well to have expected that.”
As Rose hung up, she thought about Charlie. She’d said good-bye to too many people she’d loved throughout her life, and it never got any easier. Time passed, and the memories robbed pain of its sting somewhat, but there was never any way to recover what was lost.
As she grieved alone, she remembered the story her mother had told her once to help her understand the things that defied explanation. It was part of the teachings of the Navajo Way, and the story was one she’d committed to heart.
Rose closed her eyes and thought back to those days. She could almost see her mother’s gentle face and hear her soft voice as she told the story: In the beginning, the hero twins, Monster Slayer and Child-of-the-Water, the sons of Sun, were sent to conquer the monsters that preyed upon man. Just when they’d thought that they’d freed the earth of all the evils there, they met four strangers—Cold, Hunger, Poverty, and Death. Cold told the heroes that they could kill her, but if they did, there would be no snow and no water to give the crops in the spring. Realizing that she was needed, the hero twins let Cold live.
Then the brothers met Hunger. The monster explained that if they killed him, the people would lose their appetites and there would be no more pleasure in feasting and eating. So the heroes let him live as well.
Poverty was an old man dressed in dirty rags. He urged them to kill him and put him out of his misery. But he also warned that if he died, old clothes would never wear out and people would never make new ones. Everyone would be dirty and ragged like he was. The heroes knew that they had to let him live.
Finally they met Death. She was old and bent and frightening to behold, so the heroes were certain that they should kill her. But she warned them to think hard before they did because if she ceased to be, the old people would not die and give up their places to the young. She told them that as long as she existed, the young men could marry and have children. She assured them that she was their friend, though they didn’t know it yet. The hero twins allowed her to live, and that is why we still have death.
As Rose opened her eyes, her mother’s voice and face faded once again to the back of her memory. The story comforted her now. Even in dying there was balance and harmony.
After she arrived in front of her son’s stacked eight-sided log medicine hogan, Rose parked and then remained seated, waiting for her son to appear. Before long, Clifford came to the entrance of the hogan and invited her in by cocking his head.
Rose walked over to meet him. “Good afternoon, son. My old friend from Teec Nos Pos is being buried today. I wanted to know if you had a special medicine bundle I could use.”
“You’re going to the grave site?” he asked, surprised.
“No, but I’ll be close by. I need to see this through. It’s a duty … .”
“There’s no relative?”
She shook her head. “None that can be found. I’ve accepted the responsibility.”
Clifford gathered substances from several pottery bowls, then placed several pieces of flint into the small medicine pouch. “Take this. It will give you protection,” he said. “Let me know if you need to talk or if there’s anything else I can do to help you.”
“Thank you, son.”
As she walked back to her truck, she couldn’t help but notice that it was a beautiful day—the kind that Charlie had loved. He’d lived a full life, and done his service to his country, and to the Dineh, the Navajo people.
Remembering Charlie’s letter and instructions, she once again began to wonder about his unusual request. That location hadn’t been one of his plant collection sites, nor was there anything particularly noteworthy about the area except that it was once a gathering place for Navajos who’d come to trade and purchase off-reservation goods.
The Hogback trading post was located just at the eastern edge of the Navajo Nation, and wasn’t close to where Charlie had lived most of his life. Most puzzling of all, Charlie had never been the kind to do things without purp
ose. Sadly, his reasons would probably remain a mystery to her forever now.
An hour later, she arrived at the old, dilapidated half-adobe building, which butted up against the nearly vertical sedimentary rock walls of the Hogback. Though the painted signs still remained advertising Navajo rugs, the store had been abandoned for some time. Fifty yards to the north, at a spot halfway between two large boulders and not far from the base of the tall Hogback ridge, the man with the Laverys—Carolyn and her husband Michael, was digging the grave. The ground was soft, and it wasn’t long before he was waist-deep into the earth.
Suddenly the man yelled and jumped back out to the surface where the Laverys stood. Rose saw him gesturing down, agitated. Carolyn and Michael stepped forward and peered into the hole.
Rose had a feeling that they’d just discovered the reason why Charlie had been so adamant about being buried at this spot exactly halfway between the boulders. Tightly grasping the jish that her son had made for her, she approached slowly, torn between curiosity and the need to stay away.
Rose came within ten feet of the grave site, then stopped and peered down into the hole. Holding her breath and saying a prayer, she took another step forward. Even at this distance, she could see what had disturbed them. There appeared to be an old wooden box, the length of a coffin, already there. It was falling apart, with large gaps between the boards. Fortunately, she couldn’t see inside.
“Did your friend ever tell you why he’d chosen this exact spot?” Carolyn asked.
Rose shook her head. “Who among the Navajo talks about graves and burials?”
Carolyn took a deep breath. “That box looks like two packing crates nailed together. I want to make sure that it holds a body, not something else. It might just be something that came from the old trading post.”
Carolyn looked at the Anglo man who’d dug the grave. He had remained beside the hole, still looking at the large box. “The thing is falling apart, Jerry,” Carolyn told him. “Pry back one of the boards so we can see inside.”
Plant Them Deep Page 18