Plant Them Deep

by Thurlo, Aimée

  “I’m glad you’ve worked it all out,” Rose said with a nod.

  Rose helped Lena to bed, and as Lena sank into her own familiar mattress, she sighed contentedly. Rose could feel her relax. Her friend had been right to come back to the home she loved.

  As Lena closed her eyes and her breathing became rhythmic, Rose reached into her purse and brought out the new jish her son had made for her before she’d been to that grave site. Right now she wanted Lena to have whatever power and protection it could give her.

  Leaving the medicine bundle by her bedside, Rose tiptoed out of the room.

  The following morning after taking care of her own garden and tending Charlie’s plant, which had perked up, Rose checked and learned that Lena had slept peacefully through the night. Relieved, she drove to Clara Henderson’s home.

  Clara lived just off the reservation near Waterflow with her daughter Lori, who worked in Farmington during the day. Clara loved her old farm near the river, and had told all the Plant Watchers on more than one occasion that she enjoyed being alone during the day. She could move at her own pace, not have a television or radio blaring at her, and could come and go as she pleased.

  Rose pulled up in front of Clara’s home, a low, wood-framed, pitched-roof building, and waited in the truck. After five minutes, when no one came out to greet her, Rose climbed out of her pickup and looked around. Closer to the river where an old orchard gave way to the bosque and a high levee protecting the farmland from floods, she could see a hunched-over figure moving along the sandy soil. The entire area was dappled with sunlight and shadows from the tall canopy of old cottonwood trees. Clara’s white wool shawl gleamed in the sun like a beacon.

  Rose walked down to meet her. Clara had slowed over the years, but she still said her prayers to the dawn and went for long walks every day.

  As Rose drew near, Clara spotted her and waved. “You’re just in time,” she said. “I just took a long walk, said a prayer and scattered some corn pollen in the river, then picked some ‘big yellow on top’ to add to our stew tonight.”

  “At least there’s still plenty of that around,” Rose said.

  “How is our friend?” Clara asked, knowing exactly what had been on Rose’s mind. “I heard she insisted on going home last night.”

  “She seems a lot happier in her own house, but a ceremony will have to be performed soon and there’s still no ‘white at night’ to be found anywhere.”

  “I know. I’ve searched too, without any luck,” Clara said. “I did find some ‘gray sunflower.’” Clara brought a small cutting from the hand-sewn leather pouch she carried. “Will you take it to our friend and tell her to remember the legend? When Horned Toad was in mortal danger, he ran under ‘gray sunflower.’ Lightning and chaos rained from the heavens, but he remained safe,” Clara said. “It can do the same for her.”

  Rose nodded and smiled. “She’ll appreciate it.”

  They walked back up to the farmhouse, and once inside the kitchen, Clara slowly ambled to the stove, filled a kettle with water, then placed it on the gas burner.

  “Tell me what brings you here,” Clara said.

  “I’m trying to find someone—a person I’m hoping you know or remember.” She told her about Charlie and everything that she’d learned. “I found a photo of his brother—who looks almost like his twin—and they were standing with an Anglo man by the name of Bruce Gunn. Do you happen to know him or his family?” Rose handed her the photo.

  “I knew a family by that name years ago, but I have no idea where any of them are now.” Before Clara could say any more, they were interrupted by the sound of a car driving up.

  Rose went to the window so Clara wouldn’t have to get up. “It’s Gishii,” she said.

  “Invite her in,” Clara said.

  Minutes later the three women were sitting around the small kitchen table. Gishii had brought her special corn-sunflower-seed bread that she made by grinding her own corn into meal, kneading it into a dough, then adding the seeds for flavor. They each took a piece and ate as Rose told Gishii who she needed to find.

  “I don’t know if it’s the same man you’re looking for, but I do know someone with that last name. I teach gardening classes at the Farmington Retirement Village north of Thirtieth Street. One of the seniors there goes by the name of Bruce Gunn, but, of course, it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the same man you’re looking for. But he is in his late seventies, which is the right age.”

  “I’d like to meet him. Can you arrange it?”

  “I can try, but I don’t know his telephone number, nor do I know which of the cottages at the village is his home. I can talk to him next week during class, or we can go over there now and see if we can find him around the recreation building. That’s where many of the residents spend a lot of their time.”

  “Sooner is better,” Rose said.

  “Okay,” Gishii said, then looked at Clara, their host. “After I finish in Farmington, will you help me come up with the right proportions for gold dye? I have several pounds of cliffrose twigs and leaves, and I’ve found some alum at the base of the rock cliffs to add to it, but I haven’t had much success getting everything mixed together right.”

  “Come back anytime and I’ll be glad to help you,” Clara said. “I’ll be around all day.”

  After saying good-bye to Clara, Rose walked out with Gishii. “My truck or yours?”

  “Let’s go in mine. I have a sticker on the bumper that will get us past the security guard easily. Clara won’t mind if you leave your pickup parked here.”

  They were on their way five minutes later. Gishii was unusually quiet for a long time, but Rose allowed the silence to stretch. Finally Gishii spoke.

  “I don’t know why knowing our old friend’s real name makes such a difference to you. He was who he was—regardless of the name he chose to use.”

  “I need to do this for myself,” Rose admitted, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But it’s for his sake too. He was the one who made sure that we would find the other body—probably that of his brother. He wanted the truth to be known.”

  “It’s a lot to take on, after so many decades have passed.”

  “Yes, it is, but I won’t give up.” Everything was connected, and a pattern would emerge sooner or later. As it was now, it was possible that Charlie had been killed because of who he’d been instead of what he’d been doing for her. It was a shred of hope Rose clung to desperately out of her own selfishness or guilt.

  Thirty minutes later, Gishii drove through the entrance to the retirement community, a pleasant, well-landscaped collection of small houses arranged in five dwelling arcs connected by sidewalks. There were no roads inside the complex itself, just large landscaped areas with stone walkways that cut through them.

  “All the cottages here are numbered, and the residents can be as independent as they choose to be. There’s nursing care provided for all of them, and recreational activities are part of the package as well. That’s where I come in. I teach gardening, and help with the pottery classes,” Gishii explained.

  “There are a lot of cottages here,” Rose observed, noting at least five of the curved rows radiating outward from the center. Each individual unit had a small garden area in the front and, she supposed, in the back. All were well tended.

  “We provide gardeners for those who can’t or choose not to garden. The people here seem very happy.”

  They wandered around the main building, the recreation center, but it appeared all but deserted at the moment. “There must be another activity going on now, maybe even a field trip. Usually we’d see at least four or five people in the indoor pool and twice that number in the outdoor one.” Gishii paused, lost in thought. “Let’s circle around the complex and see what we can learn.”

  As they walked around the complex, Rose felt uncomfortably hot. The facility appeared to be relatively new, and there were no tall trees to provide shade. Unfortunately, it was over ninety deg
rees today.

  “Will anyone go outside their homes in this heat?” Rose asked.

  “Keep an eye out for anyone heading to one of the pools. That’s our best hope.”

  Halfway around the circle of cottages, Rose saw a welldressed woman in her late sixties carrying a cheese tray. She was hurrying toward them along the circular walkway.

  “We’re in luck,” Gishii said. “That’s Lydia Gonzales coming. She’s in my gardening class.” Gishii waved at her, then glanced at Rose. “Remember, here I’m just Reva.”

  After introducing Rose, Gishii added, “I’m glad I ran into you. We’re looking for Mr. Gunn. Do you know where we can find him?”

  “At the welcome party, probably. We have a new resident, and nearly everyone is there,” Lydia said, glancing down at the cheese platter. “Just follow me. I’m on my way there now.”

  They walked down to the patio door of a nearby cottage, a white stucco unit with a newly mowed lawn, and went inside. Lydia led the way through the mass of perfumed, silver-haired women, and Rose was introduced to everyone, including Bruce Gunn, who insisted on firmly shaking her hand. The touch, from a stranger, made her uncomfortable, but she tried not to let it show, focusing instead on why she was there.

  Although his first and last name matched the man she was searching for, she couldn’t tell if he was the same person pictured in the photo or not. Too many years had passed. The man before her had dark hair, dyed, obviously, to hide most of his gray, and he wore thick-framed glasses, but the age seemed right.

  Coming up with a strategy to get the information she needed, Rose went over to the buffet table. She had a feeling that if she stayed where she was and didn’t press it, he’d come to her. In a room filled with older women, older men often had a tendency to seek food and refuge. The obvious place was by the buffet table. The round dining table was filled with every kind of party snack available, all in heirloom serving dishes that looked like some she’d seen in antique stores. She took a small paper plate, filled it up, then waited.

  It happened slowly. Gunn worked his way through the gathering and eventually, with a nod of greeting, joined her and began to fill his plate with everything the buffet offered.

  “The deviled eggs are particularly tasty,” Rose suggested.

  “That’s good to know. I skipped breakfast, so I have to stock up now. I’m still a growing boy—though the growth generally takes place laterally.”

  Gunn placed several carrot sticks on his plate, then looked at her and smiled. “I’m not fond of raw vegetables, but as long as they’re on my plate, I can pretend I’m eating healthy.”

  He sat down next to Rose in one of the unoccupied folding chairs against the wall. “What brings you here to our community, Rose?” he asked as he ate.

  “I came to speak to you, actually. We have a mutual friend who passed away recently.”

  He nodded. “I heard. Bad news always travels fast, especially that kind of news in this kind of community.” He shrugged, then added, “Charlie always mentioned your name to me whenever we met, though admittedly that hasn’t been very often lately—not since I moved here.”

  Rose waited, but when Gunn offered no more information, she pressed him. “I came to find out who he really was.”

  Understanding and a trace of sadness shone in his eyes. “He told me a long time ago that this day would come.” He paused, picking at his food. “You must have found his brother’s body,” Gunn added, his voice whisper-thin.

  “Yes, but only because he told us exactly where to dig.”

  He nodded. “That secret was one that always ate at him, you know. The past followed him every day of his life.” He stood. “Let’s go for a walk and you can tell me how you tracked me down and why you want to know. I’ve kept this secret my entire life, and talking about it goes against the grain even now.”

  “I understand.” As they left the party, going back out through the patio door, Rose saw some of the women watching her curiously. She had no doubt that Gishii would be grilled for information about her. From what she could see, Mr. Gunn was one of the few bachelors present.

  “Now tell me what led you to me and why you need to know,” he said as they walked toward a covered picnic table beside the recreation center.

  “My involvement in this started when my Plant Watcher friend—the person I always knew as Charlie—died,” Rose said. She left out her belief that he’d been murdered, but when she mentioned that he’d been working at the top of a cliff and fallen to his death, she saw the flash of surprise in Gunn’s eyes.

  He led her to the bench, then remained standing, leaning against the massive support of the canopy which provided the overhead cover. “I have a feeling you’re trying to find out why a man with vertigo was up on a cliff,” he said. “Do you believe someone pushed him over the edge?”

  “Yes, I do.” The candor in his gaze and his voice called for nothing less from her.

  “Now you need to know why he kept this secret from you, and who he was before he assumed Charlie Dodge’s identity. You need to see the whole picture to find answers.” Seeing her nod, he exhaled softly. “All right, I’ll tell you what I know. The man you knew as Charlie was really his younger brother, Gilbert.”

  “I began to suspect that when I first learned that Charlie had a brother, but I need to know the rest of the details.” She paused, then in a soft voice added, “It’s very important to me.”

  Gunn took a deep breath. “I’m not particularly proud of my part in what I’m about to tell you, though heaven knows we didn’t have many other options at the time.”

  He lapsed into a long silence before he finally continued. “Times were hard back then for nearly everyone in New Mexico, but life was especially cruel to boys like Gilbert and Charlie Dodge, who had nothing but each other. Their father had died shortly after Gilbert was born, and their mother worked hard to provide for her two sons. Six months after Charlie enlisted, she died of tuberculosis. Gilbert, who’d quit school a year before to help his mother, had a job chopping and hauling wood for Jerry Hatcher at the trading post, making less than a dollar a day. Most of their clan had been wiped out during the influenza epidemic following World War I, so he wouldn’t have been able to get by at all if it hadn’t been for Charlie, who always sent half his Marine paycheck home.”

  “Were you also too young to enlist?”

  He shook his head. “I was Charlie’s age, but the Army had already rejected me because I have flat feet. Gilbert and I were both stuck wanting to enlist and not being able to do it, so that gave us common ground and we became really good friends. He and I spent most of our free time together back then.”

  “What happened to Charlie?” she asked softly, getting him back on track.

  “I’m getting to that,” he said, then continued in a strained voice. “Charlie came home on leave after basic training. He was a lot tougher-looking and more confident in his new Marine uniform, but, deep down, he was the same old Charlie. He’d always had a reckless streak in him, and now it seemed even worse with all that gung-ho Marine attitude.

  One afternoon, he got hold of one of Jerry Hatcher’s pistols, a big Colt .45, and insisted on showing us what a good shot he’d become. You see, Gilbert had always been the better shot, so Charlie had something to prove. He started twirling the loaded pistol on his finger like a Hollywood cowboy.”

  Rose felt her breath catch in her throat. She knew in her heart what was coming next.

  “He lost control, the pistol started to fall, and he made a grab for it. The gun went off and the bullet struck him right in the heart. Even if it had happened in the finest hospital in the world, they’d have never been able to save him. By the time I checked for his pulse, he was dead.”

  “But it was an accident. Why didn’t you both just report it?”

  “I started to, but Gilbert stopped me. He said that his brother was dead and nothing would bring him back, but if I kept my mouth shut, he might be able to do some good for ou
r country and make both their lives count for something. He told me that he was going to try and take Charlie’s place in the Marines.” Gunn paused, took a deep breath, then continued. “I told him he was crazy. Charlie had gone through basic and Gil had no training at all. But Gil’s mind was made up. He’d always been a better marksman than Charlie, and he was sure he could pick up whatever skills he needed along the way. Anything he didn’t know, he’d learn from the other Marines.”

  “Boys that age often overestimate their capabilities,” Rose said.

  “Gilbert was a survivor, and I knew that if anyone could pull it off, it would be him. At that time, there was nothing on the Rez for him except poverty and hardship. By taking his brother’s place he would at least have a chance to make something of himself.”

  “But without any training, you could have just as easily been condemning him to death.”

  “To me, back then, the issue was more black and white. He could take his chances and die honorably fighting for his country, or die slowly of starvation or maybe by freezing to death the following winter. Their woodstove was broken, and his chances of getting another without the money from Charlie’s paycheck were slim to none.”

  “They looked a lot alike, certainly, but wasn’t he afraid that someone would spot the switch?”

  “Charlie had already been scheduled for additional training, which I found out years later was Code Talker school. It was a new program, nobody had seen his brother there, and Charlie’s uniform fit Gilbert perfectly.”

  “So you buried one brother and gave the remaining one a chance to find his destiny,” Rose said at last.

  “That’s exactly what we did,” he answered. “We both felt Charlie deserved a coffin, so we made one for him out of scrap lumber and two packing boxes, then buried him that same night by the Hogback, not far from the trading post. From that day on, Gilbert ceased to be. Only Charlie existed.” He rubbed his eyes. “After we buried his brother, I made Gilbert a promise that I’d never tell anyone what had happened as long as he was alive. Of course, we both knew that after his stint in the Marines was up, he’d have to stay away from Shiprock. Neither of us could afford to have someone recognize who he really was and start asking questions.”