by DiAnn Mills
“Miss, he will recognize my name: Doctor Tahoma Benally. I’d like to schedule an appointment at his earliest convenience.”
She moistened her lips. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll talk to him as soon as he’s finished with his client.”
“Thank you.” Tahoma sat in a stuffed chair and noted the woman’s scrutiny and wondered if he’d cut his hair and wore a suit and tie, she might appear less apprehensive. He picked up the May issue of Time and scanned an article entitled “Medicine: Castoria & Friends.” If only Castoria, Listerine, and Sal-Hepatica could solve his people’s problems. Or the world’s woes, for that matter.
Mr. Murdock’s office door opened, and an elderly man and woman emerged.
“Thank you again for your help in modifying my will,” the gray-haired woman said. “With so much need in our country, I want what little I have to go to charity. Feeding a hungry family means more than an elaborate casket.”
A good woman, Tahoma thought. He glanced up and saw far beyond her pale skin and mass of wrinkles. He’d come a long way in recognizing the good in people, no matter their race or culture.
Once the woman left the office, he stood and gazed into James Murdock’s clear blue eyes.
“You must be Tahoma Benally,” Murdock said.
“I am.” He stuck out his hand and Murdock grasped it firmly. A strong handshake, warm and confident.
“I saw your father only once, but you greatly resemble him.”
A twinge of guilt assaulted him over the manner in which he and his father had parted. “I take that as a compliment. Do you have time to discuss a few things? Or I can come back later.”
“Now is fine. I’ve waited a long time for this meeting.” Murdock gestured toward his office. “Come in.” He nodded at the receptionist. “Do not interrupt us.”
“Yes sir.”
Tahoma seated himself across from the lawyer’s massive mahogany table, and the door closed. When Murdock eased into his chair, Tahoma cleared his throat. “How is Eva?”
The lines in the attorney’s face deepened. “I hoped you were here to tell me about her.”
“You don’t know where she is?” Shock raced through his veins, and the horror of what might have happened to his Eva sickened him.
“No. I assumed you had her hidden somewhere.”
“And all this time, I assumed she was safely tucked away with you.”
Murdock shook his head. “The last time I heard from Eva was a letter in which she stated how happy she was at the ranch, but she deeply regretted the sacrifices made on her behalf. That was over seven months ago. I have several detectives combing New Mexico, Texas, Arizona, Colorado, and up and down the West Coast looking for both of you. She’s disappeared.” His eyes watered. “I refuse to believe the killer found her.”
“So do I. She’s a smart woman, and I’m sure she’s hiding—from all of us.”
“But why, Tahoma? We’re the ones who want to help her. Couldn’t she see how there is safety in a group?”
“Not when those people close to her were being eliminated.”
“Miss Arnold phoned me the morning she left Eva at the train station in Albuquerque. Eva wanted me and Victoria to know she would not contact us until ‘the nightmare was over.’ I simply didn’t want to believe it.”
That was more than Tahoma knew. “Where was she going?”
“We don’t know. As I said earlier, I thought you two were together.”
Tahoma rubbed the back of his neck. How much did he dare reveal? “I left Ghost Ranch the same day and haven’t been back. I read in the papers that Walt Chambers was tried and convicted for the murder of Pete Davidson. I knew he confessed when he was taken to the sheriff in Santa Fe.” He recalled vividly the argument with Eva when she learned about the method used to extract information from Chambers.
“He’s now a lifer. But the charges were dropped regarding his attack on Eva and you because neither one of you could be found to testify.”
Tahoma heard the reproach in his words, not that he blamed him. “At least he can’t hurt anyone there.”
“I don’t think he’ll ever be up for parole. Should have been hung.” Murdock picked up a fountain pen and tapped it on the table.
Tahoma understood exactly how he felt. “Couldn’t anyone get Chambers to name who else was working with him?”
“Nothing there either. He has a sister here in Syracuse, which someone could use as leverage to keep him quiet. According to the detectives, Eva’s trail ends in Albuquerque. She was last seen at a hotel there. Spent two nights. However, she used the name of Jane Smith at the time, and we’ve had no lead on that name since.”
Fear waged a war with Tahoma’s senses. Had Eva been murdered and her body left in some remote part of New Mexico? He blamed himself for his stupid pride. “While living at Ghost Ranch, she changed. She learned to be resourceful and fit in despite her situation. Found the gift of teaching and made friends. I remember at Thanksgiving she served dinner to the ranch hands and cleaned up afterward. Her reason for leaving—too many people had died or been shot in order to keep her safe—leads me to believe she’s out there somewhere. She has to be.”
“Wouldn’t she have read the papers about Chambers’s conviction? Why didn’t she come forth then?”
“We know there was more than one man involved in these cases. Pete’s death could have been accomplished by one person, but at least two men played a part in attacking Eva and me. Rex and I strongly suspected the ranch’s foreman, but he vanished the night before she left.”
“So if she’s hiding, she’ll remain that way until the second man is found. Another worrisome factor is that she’s never contacted me or the bank for money. How is she supporting herself?”
“Mr. Murdock, she’d figure out a way.”
“If only she’d called me when Miss Arnold left her in Albuquerque.”
Tahoma clenched his fists. “I take the blame for her disappearance. I chose not to go after her.”
“Why?”
“We didn’t part well.”
Murdock lifted a brow. “She spoke highly of you. At times, I wondered if—”
“If we were more than friends?”
“Precisely.”
Tahoma breathed in deeply. All these months of talking to God about what He wanted for his life, never once thinking Eva wasn’t safe. “I thought I was alone in my…feelings for her. And I thought that when she returned to her old life, I would be forgotten.” He glanced up at Murdock. “I remember telling her we had no future. Neither one of us had a place in the other’s world. But I didn’t realize until a few weeks ago that her feelings were deeper. She did care, but I ignored the obvious.”
“What happened in the end?”
“You mean what fool mistake did I make to cause her to leave? When the danger grew closer, I proposed marriage, thinking I could whisk her off into seclusion until the killers were brought to justice. I told her the marriage would be in name only, and we could divorce quietly later.”
Murdock didn’t say anything for several moments. He stared out the window and then back to Tahoma.
“Are you angry because I’m Indian and proposed or because I was insensitive to her feelings?”
“I’m furious about the situation. I don’t care about the color of your skin. What is tormenting me is the need to find Eva before the killer does. It’s the same questions—Who killed Bennington? Where is Eva?”
“But it’s still my fault that she left Ghost Ranch.”
Murdock pushed back from his desk and stood. “I read into her letters that she cared for you.” He walked to the window. “I remember when her mother met Andrew. She loved him from the moment she saw him and would not be dissuaded. If Eva is like her mother, then your proposal was the same as rejecting her.”
Tahoma hesitated. He hadn’t admitted this to anyone. “I hate the thought of hurting her. My thoughts were to keep her safe—far from the dangers at Ghost Ranch. I’m an Indian,
not a white man. What do I have to offer her?”
“That’s a decision she should make, not you.”
Murdock’s words twisted inside him. But he couldn’t dwell on his love for her right now. He had to find her. “What about Eva’s companion, Victoria? Would Eva have contacted her?”
Murdock humphed and returned to his chair. “Victoria would want Eva back here so she could enjoy the good life. The woman loves to spend money—Eva’s. I will give her credit that she helped Andrew with Eva when his wife died and then stayed on to raise her. But she likes money, or rather all it provides. She manipulated Eva repeatedly.”
“Was Eva ever aware of this?”
“Victoria had her convinced the salary I paid was inadequate.” Murdock continued to tap his pen on the edge of the desk. “I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I think Victoria was using Eva to extract funds. My concern was Victoria feared Eva would one day marry and not need her. I’m sure the thought of being alone was frightening for a woman who had no other livelihood.”
Tahoma remembered Eva talking about Victoria and Murdock not getting along. “She did tell me Victoria frowned on her having relationships—with both men and women.”
“True. She wanted Eva all to herself. Bennington gave up on Victoria and instead drew Eva aside in an attempt to educate her in the banking business in hopes she could one day take over.”
Tahoma began to see the picture that Eva had only hinted at.
“I talk to Victoria weekly, whether she likes it or not,” Mr. Murdock said. “I don’t think she has any knowledge of Eva’s whereabouts, and she insists Eva has not contacted her. In fact, when I’ve talked to her, she’s been near hysteria.”
“Anyone else who might have heard from her?”
“Nobody at all. Do you have any idea where to look?” Murdock drew in a breath. “I don’t want to think of her in any way but alive.”
“No. But I know who does.”
Murdock leaned over his desk. “Who? Let’s contact him or her.”
“God, Mr. Murdock. He knows where she’s hiding.”
Murdock’s grimace revealed his thoughts about God. “He’s not in the habit of sending telegrams or making phone calls.”
“Eva knows God, and I believe He’s made sure she’s protected.”
Murdock wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “I want to grab on to your faith and not let go. She’s always been like a daughter to me, and the idea of a killer finding her…”
“I understand.” Tahoma pushed aside his own sinking emotions about finding Eva.
“I see you do.” He took a breath. “Where do we begin?”
Tahoma had no idea, but he had made a vow that involved his integrity and his heart. “I’m staying at a hotel down the street. I’d like a little time to think and pray about this. Can I contact you in the morning?”
“No hotel for you, young man. You’re coming home with me. I’m not much good at praying, but maybe it’s time I began.”
Tahoma glanced down at his right hand gripping the chair armrest. Did Murdock have any idea the guilt he felt for this? He captured the older man’s gaze. “My father gave his word that Eva would be protected, and now she’s gone. I can’t accept your hospitality. All I can do is find her.” He stood and shook Murdock’s hand. “I’ll be back before noon tomorrow with a plan.”
Murdock wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to Tahoma. “This has my office and home phone numbers. Call me if you need anything.”
Tahoma left the office feeling worse than when he’d stepped inside. He knew he should be full of faith and hope, but instead a sinking feeling left him alone and scared.
CHAPTER 41
I watched my students labor over their spelling, my heart fluttering like butterfly wings in pride over their hard work. I had children of all ages in my mission school, from grades one through eight. They challenged me constantly, but I’d learned how to manage excitable children from the best: Brice, Alex, and Cuttin. One of the older boys had developed an infatuation for me too. I must naturally attract younger men…. How sad when the man I wanted had rejected me.
My haven at the Navajo Indian Reservation possessed the same beauty of Ghost Ranch, and the people here were the ones my father so admired. They’d stolen my heart, and I worked constantly to master their language and culture. Each word and new piece of information I learned kept Tahoma alive in my heart. I couldn’t forget him, and I longed for what might have been.
Truth has a habit of worming into a person’s soul in a way that only God could orchestrate. Tahoma no more belonged in Syracuse or Chicago than I did. My past life had become a memory, but it wasn’t my future. The admittance comforted my soul. If God ever put Tahoma in my path again, I would apologize for my selfishness. And maybe, just maybe, my warrior hero might one day propose again.
Oh, how I relished living on those 27,000 square miles of breathtaking beauty. I could easily daydream about the vast land with green valleys and many lakes. If I were an artist, I’d paint the beauty for all to see. If I were a writer, I’d share my adventures of living among the Navajo. The Colorado River bordered the reservation to the west and the San Juan River flowed along parts of the northern border. To the east rose the Chuska Mountains and Pastora Peak. My ventures to the Bisti Badlands and redstone canyons had inspired me to journal. I always carried my rifle in case I came face-to-face with a bear, mountain lion, bobcat, or a two-legged predator.
Glancing again at each of my students, I marveled at the cultural differences between them and white children. My children lived in matriarchal clans, like Tahoma’s family. In my opinion, the arrangement diminished bickering and crime—of which I was fully aware. The people tended sheep, and I envied their pastoral way of life.
For certain, as long as those in charge of the Navajo reservation allowed me to teach, I would live among these marvelous people and give these precious children my best. I no longer fretted over killers finding me. Walt Chambers had been sentenced to prison, but Tahoma and I knew two men were involved. Maybe more. What good did it do for me to fear every strange man or to be constantly looking over my shoulder? I had a life to live. Here I could teach at a school where the children were exposed to God and His plan for all those who believed in Him. How glorious to be a part of God’s will for the whole earth.
“Miss Adams, is this good?” Seven-year-old Kai held up her slate on which she’d written her numbers to twenty.
I swung my chair around and pulled her into my lap. “You’ve done a wonderful job.” I whispered the same in her native language, even though only English was to be spoken in the classroom. “If you switch these two numbers,” and I pointed to the sixteen and seventeen, “then it is perfect.”
Kai smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. “Thank you. What do you want me to do next?”
“You could practice your handwriting.” I planted a kiss on the top of her head. “You could write, ‘My name is Kai.’”
Twelve-year-old Shiye raised his hand. He was nearly my height and could be a handful. I smiled and gave him permission to speak.
“Why do we have to learn American history? I think it’s an insult to our people.”
I moistened my lips. “We are going to be learning the history of the Diné people by first studying the Anasazi. Then we’ll talk about American history. That way you have an understanding of both cultures.”
Shiye frowned. “Why do we even need to know American history? The whites are our enemy.”
I raised a brow. “All whites?”
His features softened. “Not you, Miss Adams. You respect our ways.”
He could be a sweet boy. “I understand your discontent with those who have not acted fairly.” I needed to gain his trust. But when I saw how shamefully his people had been treated, I agreed with his claim. “Sun Tzu, an ancient Chinese warrior, suggests that victory will come only when warriors know both themselves and their foes.”
Shiye paused, and
I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “He was wise.”
“Another warrior said to love your enemies.”
“That is impossible.”
“Granted, the latter is a difficult challenge. But I think you are strong enough to accomplish it. When you love your enemy into making you his friend, then you can reason about your differences without shedding blood. Justice and fairness are more easily attained.”
“I like the first saying better.”
I laughed. “I imagine so. But I do ask you to consider the benefits of loving your enemy. It is the way of our Lord.”
He frowned. “When will we begin the study about the Anasazi?”
“Tomorrow.” I glanced at the rest of my class, making eye contact. “We’ll learn our history by reading and studying and by acting out parts that I want you to remember.”
“Like we’ve done with Bible stories?” another boy said.
“Yes. All of you will have an opportunity to play a special person. So study your lessons. Remember, those people who formed our history were once children like you—boys and girls who dreamed of making a difference in their world.”
The pleased expressions on their faces were all I needed to ensure they would learn much. But I would be up late many nights working on this project.
My teaching helped to occupy the time and my mind. I often thought of Victoria, Mr. Murdock, and always Tahoma. When the killer was found—and I believed his days were numbered—I would contact those in Syracuse and let them know of my whereabouts. Yet I had no desire to return to an empty life of luxury, for here was where I belonged. When I could access my funds, I planned to help these people just as my father had done. Some of my students showed promise for higher education, and I didn’t want a lack of money to stand in their way. Neither did I want any of the recipients to know where their financial aid had come from.
My father had indeed left me a legacy, and by teaching and contributing to the Navajo’s financial needs, I sensed his praise and my heavenly Father’s blessings.
I’d lost my beloved Tahoma, but at least I could dwell among his people and help them in the only way I knew how.