Plant Them Deep

by Thurlo, Aimée

  As they pulled up to the crumbling adobe building, it appeared to be completely deserted. Windows were broken and the door swung back and forth on one hinge in the breeze.

  “Well, that’s that. No one’s here,” Ella said. “Sorry, Mom. My idea was a bust.”

  “Not so,” Rose said. Just over the next rise, she could see a curl of smoke. Rose opened the car door, and as a breeze rose, the scent of burning leaves became pronounced. “Someone’s working in their yard. Can you smell it?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “The road up ahead doesn’t look good enough to risk driving across in my old truck. Why don’t we walk from here?”

  “I’m up to it if you are, Mom.”

  The old wood-frame house was less than a half mile away. Rose kept her eyes on the ground, always searching for “white at night” and the other plants on her list.

  They’d traveled halfway when Rose felt Ella’s mood change. They hadn’t spoken and she hadn’t looked at her daughter, but she knew. There had always been a special connection between them that couldn’t be easily explained.

  “What’s wrong, daughter?” she asked softly.

  “I’m not sure, but there might be someone up on the hill just west of us. Don’t look and keep walking at the same pace. If I’m right and someone’s there, I don’t want to tip him off.”

  Rose resisted the impulse to sneak a quick glance. “It could be someone tending their animals, looking for firewood, or just walking around.”

  “True.” Ella reached up and felt the badger fetish hanging from her neck. “I just don’t think we’re in any immediate danger, but I don’t like the idea of someone up there watching us.”

  “We’ve always suspected that the reason the plant thief knows the best sites is because he’s been following some of us. Maybe he decided to follow me this time.”

  “Just stay close to cover, Mom, beside the rocks if possible, and go through that stand of pines ahead.”

  “Do you still see him?”

  “I never saw anyone—just a flash that could have come from anything that has glass or metal.”

  When they reached the pines, they stopped and looked around, listening. “Well, daughter?” Rose shrugged after a few minutes.

  “Okay, let’s move on.” Moments after they reached the next clearing, they both saw a woman coming down the hill.

  “It’s a traditionalist,” Rose said, noting her long skirt and velvet blouse.

  “But not the person who’s been watching us,” Ella pointed out. “She’s coming from a different direction.”

  The Navajo woman, who was around Rose’s age, came up to join them. “I didn’t want to be nosy, but we don’t see a lot of strangers around here. Are you lost?” she asked.

  “No, we’re looking for information about the people who used to run the old store and gas station back there. It was a trading post before that,” Ella said.

  The woman looked at Rose and suddenly smiled. “You’re the last person I expected to run into out here.”

  Rose, recognizing her, greeted her warmly. Mae Brownhat had been a classmate of hers in high school. Over the years, they’d continued to meet sporadically in class reunions, but it had been a good fifteen years since they’d both attended one. In that time, Mae had put on some weight and there were a few more lines around her face, but otherwise she’d changed very little. Rose wondered if she looked as good to Mae. She would have liked to think that she’d aged as gracefully as her friend.

  “You used to live in Teec Nos Pos. You’ve moved?” Rose asked.

  She nodded. “When my family moved away to Kayenta, I chose to remain in the Four Corners, but I needed something to do. Then I heard that Merline Hatcher needed live-in help, so I came here.”

  “What happened to her?” Rose asked.

  “She has rheumatoid arthritis and has a very difficult time getting around these days. She should move to the city, but this was the home she shared with her parents and the place where she was happiest. She doesn’t want to leave.”

  “We have to go now,” Ella said, taking her mother’s arm and urging her along.

  “Daughter, what on earth—”

  “Someone’s up there watching us, and I don’t want to stand out in the open until I know who it is. Let’s get moving.”

  “Who is it?” Mae asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ella said, hurrying them.

  “We’ll be safe up at the house and it’s not far,” Mae said quickly.

  “Take my mother with you. I’m going to find out what’s going on,” Ella said.

  “No, daughter, don’t—” Before she could even finish the sentence, Ella was already moving into the trees. “Forgive her,” Rose told Mae. “She’s a police officer, and it’s hard for her to stop being one even when she’s not on duty.”

  Mae hurried toward the house, with Rose beside her. “I can’t imagine any danger out here except during the winter, when you might freeze to death.”

  They walked a little farther, and Rose, not one to miss an opportunity, asked, “I’ve been looking for ‘white at night.’ Have you see any around here?”

  “No, I haven’t. We keep a small garden with medicinal plants, but the things we grow are common all across the reservation.”

  “Have you had any of your plants dug up and stolen recently?”

  Mae stopped in midstride and stared at her. “How on earth did you know that?”

  “It’s a long story,” Rose said, following her toward the house just ahead.

  A full twenty minutes had passed, but Ella still hadn’t returned. Rose tried to push back the faint stirrings of fear that crept through her. Her daughter was all right. She would have sensed it if Ella had been in trouble.

  Merline positioned her wheelchair across from where Rose sat on the old sofa. “My mother loved this land. Everything here reminds me of her, and I’ve kept the house the same as it was then. She always told me that as long as I lived within the Sacred Mountains, I’d be protected. That’s why I’ve stayed.”

  Aware of the way Merline held her misshapen hands protectively against her, Rose gave her a sympathetic smile. “Are you all right? Your hands must give you a lot of pain.”

  “They do. But there’s a special tea Mae makes for me that helps.”

  Mae smiled. “It’s a mixture of ‘falling on rock’ and ‘big yellow on top.’ That’s why I started the garden—to make sure we always had our own supply handy.”

  “Earlier you mentioned that someone dug up some of your plants. I’m very interested in learning more about that. We’ve been having some trouble with a plant thief lately,” Rose said, and explained briefly about her survey for the tribe, and the instances of theft she’d discovered. “What did he take?”

  “‘Wondering about medicine.’ I only had one of those plants here too. They’re very hard to grow.”

  “Did he take it roots and all?”

  “Yes,” Mae answered. “But I’ll keep an eye out for this thief from now on. If we see anyone digging up plants, I’ll get word to you immediately.”

  “Don’t confront him, he could be dangerous. Just try to get a good look at his face or his vehicle so you can describe or identify him,” Rose said, going to the window and looking outside. “My daughter will be back soon,” she said, unable to explain, even to herself, how she knew.

  A minute later, Ella came out from behind a cluster of junipers and walked to the house.

  Rose opened the front door and greeted her. “Did you find who you were looking for?”

  “There was no one up there by the time I got up the hill,” Ella said, frustration coloring her tone. “You came from the other direction,” she said, looking at Mae. “Did you see anyone up on the ridge?”

  “No, I sure didn’t.”

  “I’d like to see the hole the thief left behind when he dug up your ‘wondering about medicine’ plant,” Rose said.

  Mae took Rose and Ella outside, along with Merli
ne in her wheelchair, and pointed to the ground at a spot near a pile of ashes where some leaves had been burned only recently. Rose wasn’t surprised to see the arrowhead type of shovel point that was distinctive of the GI shovel.

  “Who knows that you have a garden with medicinal plants?” Rose said.

  “Almost everyone,” Mae said, “and not just around here. We went to lunch at the Totah Café yesterday and ran into Gishii. We spoke about plants, and especially our gardens.”

  “And she loves to gossip,” Rose finished with a tiny smile. “Did you notice anyone else interested in what you were all talking about?”

  Mae considered it and shook her head. “There were plenty of other people around, but I never really looked. We were having too much fun to worry about anything else.”

  Rose glanced at Merline, who shook her head. “If you happen to see any ‘white-at-night’ growing around here, will you send word to me immediately?” she asked, telling them about Lena.

  “You can count on it. Is that why you came, to find the plant?” Merline asked as they all returned to the living room.

  “Partly, but I had another purpose as well,” Rose said. “I know your father ran the trading post from the thirties to the fifties, and I wondered if you remember him ever talking about the Plant Watcher from Arizona who died recently. Do you know who I mean?” Seeing Merline nod, Rose continued. “Or maybe you know someone else who might be able to give me some information about him.”

  “I don’t remember my dad ever talking about him. I wish I could help you, but—” She stopped speaking and suddenly smiled. “Wait a minute. My Dad kept scrapbooks with photos all the years he ran the trading post. He had wanted to write his memoirs someday. There are lots of pictures and newspaper clippings in those books. Do you think they might help you?”

  “They might. May I see them?”

  “Give me a hand, Mae?” she asked, as she turned the wheelchair around and went down the hall. Moments later, both women returned holding several thick scrapbooks.

  “The pages are very old and will tear easily, so please be very careful when you handle these,” Merline said.

  “I will.” Rose took them and went back to sit on the couch. The scrapbooks contained everything from newspaper headlines pertinent to the times, to photos and mementos. Rose concentrated on the photos, most of which were black-and-white snapshots held in place by those old glued-on corners. She didn’t recognize most of the faces, but some, like her husband’s, were forever etched in her mind.

  “I never knew my husband and your father were friends,” Rose said.

  “They may not have been. Dad loved to take photos of people he thought were interesting for one reason or another, and those prayer meetings and revivals of your husband’s always attracted a lot of attention.”

  Rose could certainly understand why he’d thought her husband Raymond was interesting. Although Raymond had been a walking mass of contradictions, he’d possessed an undeniable charisma that had drawn people to him wherever he went. The large servings of food he always provided at his church crusades didn’t hurt either.

  Near the middle of the fourth scrapbook, filled during the war years, Rose spotted what she’d been looking for among several pages showing soldiers in uniform. She found one labeled Charlie and Gilbert Dodge and Bruce Gunn. A young Charlie Dodge in uniform stood beside a younger Navajo man she assumed was Gilbert, his brother. The resemblance between the two was striking. Behind both stood a tall, muscular Anglo young man she took to be Bruce Gunn.

  Ella looked over Rose’s shoulder. “Who’s the Anglo man?”

  “It says here that his name is Bruce Gunn, but I don’t remember any family around here by that name. Do you?” Seeing Ella shake her head, she glanced at the other two women. Merline shrugged, but Mae remained thoughtful.

  “The name sounds familiar,” Mae said, “but I can’t quite place it. You know what? Clara Henderson might be able to help you. She’s met almost everyone who has ever lived in these parts.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Rose said. “May I borrow the photo?” she asked, looking at Merline. “I promise to take good care of it and bring it back undamaged.”

  “All right.”

  After saying good-bye, Ella and Rose walked back to the truck. “Daughter, what did you find up there when you went to look around? Something disturbed you. I could see it on your face when you returned.”

  “Someone had been there, but the really curious thing is that he went to the trouble of wiping out his tracks.”

  “With a branch?”

  “No, he used the old Indian way—sprinkling sand over the footprints so it all blends together.”

  Rose remembered the tracks that had been obliterated around the cliff where Charlie Dodge had died. The same method had been used there.

  It took a moment for the realization to hit her. Then, as understanding dawned on her, a shiver ran up her spine. This could mean only one thing. Charlie’s killer now had his eye on her.

  Although it wasn’t easy, Rose kept the observation to herself. She knew that there was nothing her daughter could do, since there was no hard evidence to substantiate any of it. The police didn’t believe a murder had taken place.

  This would have to remain her fight—one she’d have to see through alone—at least for now.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Later that evening during visiting hours, Rose headed out to the hospital. Unfortunately, no one had found the plant needed for Lena’s ritual. Now Rose had to do whatever was necessary to try and keep Lena from losing hope.

  When Rose walked down the hospital corridor twenty-five minutes later, she was surprised to see Herman leading Lena down the hall. Lena was dressed in her regular clothes and, from what Rose could see, was having a lot of difficulty walking. She was leaning heavily on Herman.

  “What’s going on?” Rose asked quickly, joining them.

  “I’m going home. The doctors here can’t help me.” Lena’s voice sounded hollow and weak.

  “They’re allowing you to leave?” Rose asked shocked.

  “Allow? I’m an adult. I don’t need their permission.”

  Rose looked at Herman, hoping to understand what had precipitated Lena’s sudden decision, but he simply shrugged.

  “She was heading out of her room, though she was barely able to stand, when I found her,” Herman said.

  “What are you thinking?” Rose glared at Lena. “This is crazy. You’re not well enough to be walking around. Who’ll take care of you at home?”

  “What does it matter? I’m getting sicker here,” Lena said quietly. “They can’t do anything about it. They test for this and for that, and nothing comes of it. I just want to go home.”

  Rose tried to think of a way to stop her, but knew that when Lena made up her mind, that was that. Not that she blamed her. She knew Lena would never find peace here at the hospital. People walked the halls at all hours. Machines beeped or whirred constantly, and everything squeaked. Most of all, death shadowed these halls. She’d hated every second she’d spent here after her collision with the drunk driver.

  “You were here long enough to know how difficult this place is,” Lena said almost as if reading her mind. “This isn’t for you and me. When we try to follow rules that make no sense to us, everything gets worse, not better.”

  “Have you told your doctor what you’re doing?” Rose asked.

  “Yes. He said he’ll sign the release papers—under protest.” Lena gestured toward the nurses’ desk. “There he is now. You might suggest he hurry up, because I’m leaving,” she said, creeping along slowly toward the door, Herman supporting her.

  “I’ll take her home. Don’t worry,” Herman assured Rose. “Sadie and Boots will be there waiting for us. I’ve already called them. You can meet us there.”

  With a sigh, Rose went up to the Anglo doctor. Many young doctors like him came to the reservation to pay off their college loans, or as a substitute for military servic
e, but few stayed after they’d met their obligations.

  “Before you ask, I would have preferred Mrs. Clani stay,” the doctor said. “But she may be right. This isn’t the best place for her. We’ve compensated for her blood pressure problems and have given her pills to take care of her tachycardia, but she’s been getting steadily worse. She’s depressed, unhappy, certainly not eating, and her red blood cell count is not good. I have no experience with tribal customs, but I do know how important a positive outlook can be to a patient. I’m really beginning to think that unless she gets traditional Navajo treatment she’ll continue to deteriorate. The only time she showed any improvement was after the … what do you call her … the hand trembler came.”

  Rose nodded. “You’ve given up, then?”

  “No, not at all. I’m still going to send by a nurse practitioner to monitor her vital signs daily on an outpatient basis. I’ll work with the practitioner and treat Mrs. Clani’s symptoms, but for the most part, I’m going to let her handle things her own way and see what happens. But she and I have made a deal. If she gets worse at home instead of better, then she comes right back. You and her other friends need to make sure she keeps her part of the bargain.”

  Rose hurried outside and found Lena already inside Herman’s truck. Rose helped her strap her seat belt on, then nodded to Herman. “I’ll follow you.”

  Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Lena’s home and were greeted by Jennifer and Sadie. Herman led Lena inside and Rose stopped to talk to Jennifer.

  “Will you need to stay here, Boots, now that she’s home?” Rose asked. “If you do, that’s fine, but let me know, because I have to find someone to help with my granddaughter.”

  “I’ll be here at night, and my mother will stay during the day,” Jennifer answered. “Mom isn’t a traditionalist like my grandmother and me, and they don’t always get along, but they do love each other. If Mom should need a break, Sadie has agreed to remain here as well.”