by Joseph Flynn
Some things worked better when people agreed to pretend a lie was the truth.
The boy, soon to be a young man in his mind, was trying to find such a strategy that might work for him. He hadn’t reached the point of thinking he might lead the tribe — yet — but he knew he would have special standing among his people. Wouldn’t just scratch out a living by the strength of his back. Or by dealing cards at the casino.
Nor would he be content using only his mind.
Being strong in every sense was his plan.
He’d come to see it was to his advantage to help those who could help him.
That day, running his miles across the rez, he came upon an opportunity to do just that.
He found a large pistol in the trees, just off a road. He couldn’t imagine how it got there. People on the rez valued their firearms. Took good care of them. He picked the pistol up and saw initials had been etched into both of the grips: BK. Black Knife.
Delshay smiled. Here was an opportunity to gain favor.
There was only one Black Knife family on the rez.
He would return the gun to Maria Black Knife.
That was bound to earn him some sort of reward.
Chapter 56
Northern New Mexico
Maj Olson was a sight. The thing about riding a dirt bike was you got dirty. Her hair was matted from sweating under her helmet. Her body odor wouldn’t remind anyone of springtime in Paris. And her every muscle fiber throbbed from carting Alan White River around for hours on a machine meant for one rider. That and having the weight of her M-4 slung across her torso.
She’d seen the Super Chief, had witnessed it move as it left its hiding place under the cover of a stand of trees and rolled out into an open glade at the foot of a fairly big mountain. On newly laid track. Seeing that was really something. Validation and a thrill wrapped into one.
But she hadn’t been able to find Bodaway — or get anyone else to admit they even knew of him. One sixty-fourth Pequot didn’t cut much ice with this crowd. She was tolerated only because she was accompanied by White River.
Maj had called John after White River promised her the Super Chief wouldn’t be moved again for the next twenty-four hours. John told her where he was. She said she’d top off her gas tank and see him soon. The reception clerk on duty at the front desk took one look at Maj and had no trouble telling her there wasn’t a vacant room in the building.
Maj was only reluctantly informed that, yes, John Tall Wolf was a guest.
She was put through to his room and explained her problem.
John thought of suggesting that Maj use Marlene’s name to secure lodgings, but he said, “My room has two beds and you can shower as long as you like without interruption.”
“On my way up,” she said.
She entered his room looking like an extra from “Mad Max,” but cleaned up nicely, emerging from the bathroom in an old Amtrak T-shirt — America is getting into training — and a pair of gym shorts from Columbia’s track team.
John asked, “What was your event?”
“Ran the 400-meter hurdles as an undergrad. Wasn’t too shabby either, for the Ivy League. Probably what put me over the top with the admissions office.”
“A scholar and an athlete,” John replied.
“And a gun-toting federal officer. Don’t forget that.”
“Impossible to do.”
“You mind if I ask you a favor?” Maj asked.
“Asking is free.”
“Would you take off your sunglasses just for a minute?”
John’s Ray-Bans had polarizing lenses. He left them on indoors as often as not. Even bright electric light could cause his eyes discomfort. But he obliged Maj.
She studied his face for a moment and nodded to herself.
“Okay, that’s good.”
John put his glasses back on. “You going to tell me what that was all about?”
“Just checking my powers of perception. I saw a family resemblance between you and your cousin Arnoldo, but I also thought I saw a likeness between you and Alan White River. Then I thought I must be imagining things.”
“And were you?”
Maj shook her head. “Unh-uh. White River has a million lines on his face and you have only a few, but it’s there. The two of you have similar faces. Could be a coincidence or …” She shrugged her shoulders.
She had John thinking. He never had found out much about his biological father or his family. Only knew that the guy had worked for a rodeo and was probably Navajo. Any resemblance between him and Alan White River had to be happenstance.
Didn’t it? He moved on to another topic.
“You decided not to arrest Alan White River,” John said.
“What, before he gets to do his thing with the train? No way.”
“He told you his plans?”
“Right away. Said he was to blame for the whole thing and as soon as he got done with the Super Chief, he would turn himself in. Told me you and I could take the credit for his arrest.”
“You found that a compelling idea?”
“I found it inevitable. If we tried to grab White River before he gets to do his thing, we’d make General George Armstrong Custer look like a military genius. We’d also get planted on this rez. Besides, my one-sixty-fourth Pequot thinks what he’s doing is cool.”
“And by working with White River …”
“We’re cool, too, with the rez cops and pretty much everyone but Bodaway.”
“And my grandmother,” John said.
“Yeah. White River’s going to talk with her.”
John grunted. White River, he was sure, would continue to look for Bodaway first. Then, if he found the time and if the past was any guide, he’d find Maria Black Knife to be completely obstinate.
Maj reclined on the spare bed and closed her eyes.
“I’ve got to take a cat nap. You’ll wake me when it’s time to go to the ceremony? That and make our plans, whatever they might be.”
“Sure,” John said.
She closed her eyes and said, “You know what the name Bodaway means?”
“Yeah. It’s Apache for firemaker.”
Maj cracked an eye and looked at him.
“It’s one of those name you hear occasionally,” John said, “if you’re Native American and grow up in Santa Fe.”
She closed her eye and said, “Okay. White River told me the meaning. In this case, though, it might as well mean arsonist. Seems like there’s always a troublemaker in every family. The old man’s worried about his great-grandson.”
“Any concern about a certain rising star in the BIA?”
Maj laughed, but kept her eyes closed. Yawned wide and long.
“He is, in fact. He noticed the resemblance between the two of you, too. Made him curious.”
“Did White River say if he thought he could make Bodaway see reason?”
John didn’t get an answer. Maj had fallen asleep.
Chapter 57
Northern New Mexico
The casino’s hotel proved more hospitable when Deputy Director DeWitt arrived. The manager, William Sharp Eye, not only found a room for him, he also made a conference room available to the twenty-four federal agents — half FBI, half BIA — DeWitt had brought along with him.
DeWitt had a brief personal chat with the first two Apache riflemen who were stationed on the main road into the rez to keep outsiders away. In a soft voice he’d told them nobody would interfere with what Alan White River had planned for that night. But if he and his people were not admitted without delay the next callers would be far more numerous and less likely to be as culturally sensitive.
The BIA contingent had added that a death threat had been made against one of their top officials, and they were going to come in right now, so the two guys with their rifles might as well let the FBI in, too. They did just that.
John made one fruitless attempt to rouse Maj and then joined his federal colleagues in the hotel conferenc
e room. Both he and DeWitt had a word with the hotel manager.
John told the man, “What’s happening here is bigger than a family quarrel or rez politics. You need to understand where your best interests truly lie. Don’t tell anyone anything about this group meeting here tonight.”
DeWitt added, “Few things in life are worth having federal law enforcement take a serious interest in you. Do you understand?”
Despite John’s advice and DeWitt’s implicit warning, Sharp Eye found the candor to tell John, “She’s really afraid of you, you know.”
Neither John nor DeWitt had to ask whom he meant.
John said, “My grandmother has no reason to fear me. Once we have the train, after the ceremony, I’ll be gone, and if it’s up to me, I won’t be back. You can tell her that at the appropriate time.”
“You’re really not going to spoil White River’s plans?” Sharp Eye asked.
“No,” John said. “We’re not.”
“Not at all,” the deputy director said.
“Okay,” Sharp Eye said, “I don’t talk. My people don’t talk.”
“Be sure you keep your word, William.”
That warning came from Marlene Flower Moon. A moment earlier she wasn’t present, and then she was. The two agents on the door looked at each other with the same expression.
How the hell did she get in here?
Their reaction was secondary to Sharp Eye’s response: fear. Marlene intimidated him far more than DeWitt had. More than even Maria Black Knife had.
The FBI guys, with the exception of DeWitt, were puzzled.
The BIA agents felt Marlene’s power, too, and they were on edge.
John broke the tension by saying, “Co-director Flower Moon has always taken a special interest in me. Me and my welfare.”
DeWitt smiled at the joke. So did the BIA men, after Marlene put a hand on John’s shoulder and said, “Anyone who threatens John Tall Wolf threatens my interests.”
She smiled at the others, but the look she directed at Sharp Eye, flashing her razor-sharp incisors his way, chilled his soul. He gave a quick nod of both understanding and submission. Nobody on the hotel payroll would be talking to anyone.
Everyone would be warned of the risk of incurring Coyote’s wrath.
Just as the hotel manager turned to leave, the door to the room opened. Maj Olson was there. With her were Alan White River and Arnoldo Black Knife.
They made way for the departing William Sharp Eye.
“So what’d we miss?” Maj asked.
Chapter 58
Northern New Mexico
Arnoldo Black Knife put on a pair of Ray-Ban aviator-style sunglasses, the same type John wore.
Maj said, “The casino gift shop sells them. So what do you think?”
She’d asked the question of John in particular and the conference room group in general.
“Passable resemblance,” John said. “A haircut would make it more so.”
Arnoldo wore his hair shoulder length.
“I’ve got an appointment with a stylist here for a cut in thirty minutes,” Arnoldo said.
“So do I,” added White River. “I’m getting a dye job and a facial, too.”
Merriment danced in Maj’s eyes, but John asked, “Why?”
Maj rolled her eyes, but DeWitt answered, “I think the older gentleman wants in on the act.”
White River nodded. He also put on a pair of matching sunglasses.
John said, “The two of you plan to act as decoys for me?”
He ignored the point that White River did bear a striking likeness to him.
He continued with what he felt was the more crucial point. “Bodaway might gun either of you down as easily as me. I’m sure you know that. But maybe what you didn’t think of is he might get all of us. He’s supposed to be quite a marksman.”
“So am I,” Maj said. “I bet a lot of the other guys in this room are, too. Unless the three of you are standing in a clump, and we know you’re all too smart for that, Bodaway won’t know for sure who to shoot. Assuming he’ll try a long-distance shot. Maybe he’ll even see that we’re on to him and take a pass on shooting anyone.”
Marlene admired the wiliness of the idea. “I like it.”
John gave her a sidelong look.
“It does have merit, along with an element of risk, I’ll admit,” DeWitt added.
John shook his head. He didn’t like the plan at all.
He turned to Arnoldo and White River. “Why would either of you risk your life for me?”
Arnoldo said, “I asked you for a favor; I’ll do you a favor. Besides, it’ll show our grandmother what I’m made of. If I spoil her plans, too, I’ll get a good laugh out of it.”
There was nothing funny about White River’s answer. “I’ve led my great-grandson down the wrong path. I’d never have stolen that train if I’d known this would be the price I’d have to pay. I can’t find him now, can’t talk sense to him. If he were to kill me instead of you, that’d be just what I deserve.”
The old man still wore the Ray-Ban sunglasses, and John felt certain they shared a bloodline.
“What if I don’t want either of you to die?”
Arnoldo said, “I’ve stopped letting anyone else make decisions for me.”
“I have no choice,” White River told John. “I must accept the consequences of my actions.”
John looked at DeWitt. The deputy director said, “Family can be a pain, mess things up, but it also has its advantages.”
Marlene said nothing aloud, but her expression told him, “Don’t be a fool. Think of yourself.”
As for Maj, well, the plan was her idea.
White River told John, “Who can say? Maybe the real reason I stole the train was so I could meet you. Let’s hope we all live a little longer. I’d like to talk with you.”
“Me, too,” Arnoldo said.
“Damn,” said John.
Even so, he nodded. He’d go along with the idea.
Chapter 59
Northern New Mexico
Delshay Crow Wing stood before Maria Black Knife’s door and hesitated. He’d raised his hand to knock, but stopped short. He looked around for a doorbell. That’d be a more polite way to announce his presence. Only he didn’t see one. Hell, he didn’t know anybody who had one.
He also didn’t know anyone who had a house as fancy as the Black Knife place. It was done in log cabin fashion. Not the old-fashioned kind. The exterior of this house gleamed. There were no gaps in the walls or cracks in the windows. It looked to Delshay like it might stand for a thousand years and look every bit as good as it did right now.
The place was big, too. By far the biggest home he’d ever seen.
He and his entire family could live in a small corner of it and still have twice the room they did now. He’d bet they wouldn’t have to worry about a leaky roof either. No problems with being cold in the winter or hot in the —
Delshay heard a buzzing sound. Not the kind that came from bees. No, sir, it was air conditioning. In all his young life, he’d never encountered that amenity in a private home, only in government or commercial buildings.
The idea that a person’s house could be comfortable year ‘round impressed him more than anything else. It spoke of true wealth and power. He decided then and there he had overstepped himself. It would be better for him just to leave the revolver on the doorstep.
Forget about currying favor and —
The door opened just as he lowered his hand.
Maria Black Knife stood in front of him wearing a scowl.
“Who are you, boy? What do you want?” Then she saw the gun in his hand and took an involuntary step backward, frightened. Delshay made sure to offer it to her butt first, and she soon recovered her haughtiness. She took it from him and asked, “Where did you get this?”
Delshay gave her his name and said, “I found it.”
He readied himself to run, if she pointed the weapon at him.
; “Where?”
“In the woods.” He described the location.
“How did you know to bring it here?”
He inclined his head toward the gun. “Your initials. They’re right there.”
Maria looked at the BKs etched on the grips.
“Did you fire this gun, even once?”
Delshay shook his head.
“Are you expecting a reward?”
He shook his head again and started to edge away.
“Stop.”
The boy stopped, but remained ready to run.
Maria said, “You expected something from me. Don’t lie. What do you want?”
Delshay answered honestly. “I don’t know. I just thought … it would be a good idea.”
Maria Black Knife’s crooked smile didn’t reassure Delshay at all.
She told him, “What you had was half an idea. Now, you’ve learned a lesson. Know what you want before the chance comes to ask for it. That knowledge in itself is a gift.”
The old woman was right. If he’d wanted money or only a pair of new shoes, he should have been ready to ask for it. He been a fool.
Then, looking at the gun dangling at Maria’s side, Delshay knew exactly what he wanted.
To get far away from the old woman. He turned and ran.
Hearing her call out to him, “I’ll keep my eye on you now, young Crow Wing.”
Chapter 60
Northern New Mexico
There were Indians everywhere. In front of, in back of and on both sides of the Super Chief and its passenger car. The glade was filled with people old and young. The faces of Pre-Columbian North America had gathered to tell and hear their stories.
The train had no choice but to sit and listen.
Absorb recitations of pain, rage and sorrow.
Several Native Americans wore tribal garb and paint. Giving the impression that the past was reaching out to seize the present. Shake the twenty-first century until it acknowledged the sins of the past.