Never-ending-snake

by Thurlo, David

  “Okay, got it.”

  “I’ll meet you at the Lonewolfs’ home.” Ella hung up and glanced at Justine. “Change of plans,” she said, updating her partner.

  Once they were headed in the right direction, Ella called her brother. Though their conversation was brief, she learned all she needed.

  They met with Blalock and Marie Lonewolf thirty minutes later at the Lonewolfs’ home, one of many small houses in an old tribal housing development on Shiprock’s east side. The fact that every house was painted the same color, and had the identical basic design, gave it a certain amount of anonymity. Also a plus was the fact that there were no mailboxes at the curb that would make the Lonewolfs’ home easier to spot.

  While Ella went into the house, Justine stayed outside in the vehicle, watching the solitary road that led from the highway into the neighborhood. The landscaping was limited to one drought-resistant willow tree per yard, and the streets were wide. No one would be able to sneak up on them. If anyone tried, Justine would be there to stop them.

  As she entered the living room the first thing that struck Ella was how exhausted Marie looked. The woman took a seat on the couch and invited Ella to do the same.

  “How’s your husband?” Ella asked, avoiding the use of a name. Although none of them here were Traditionalists, when someone’s life was so precariously balanced it seemed far better not to take any chances.

  “No change. Those doctors . . . ,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “You can ask them a direct question, but they never give you a straight answer.”

  “Maybe they have none to give you. They have to wait, too,” Ella said gently.

  “That’s why I came to see your brother,” she said. “As soon as I get what I came for, I’ll go back to my husband’s side.”

  “I’ve arranged for him to bring the medicine bundle to you here.”

  “Good. My husband needs help. Anglo medicine isn’t working,” Marie said. “Sometimes the old ways can do things no one can explain, but there’s never any arguing with the results.”

  “I know,” Ella answered. On the Rez she’d often seen things that defied logic.

  “We need to restore his hózh. He can’t get well until that’s done,” Marie said. “I’m a Modernist and a Christian, but sometimes the old ways call to us.” She touched the wedding ring on her finger, stroking it lightly with her right hand. “Now I understand what my husband has been saying all along.”

  “And what’s that?” Ella asked her.

  “What saw him through the toughest battles was respecting the connection between all things, and knowing that man’s greatest responsibility is to walk in beauty. That eventually led him to become a New Traditionalist.”

  “How did the Prickly Weed Project fit in with his new views?” Ella asked.

  “He thought it was the perfect blend of harmony and balance. But then things changed. He wouldn’t go into it, but I got the idea that there was some problem involving money. Maybe it had to do with funding for the project. I don’t know.”

  “Did he ever mention receiving, or expecting to receive, a large sum of money for his work?”

  Marie shook her head. “No, in fact, it was the opposite. He called me from his hotel room to tell me he would probably be losing his job, but I shouldn’t worry. He said that if he did, he’d find something else and asked me to trust him.” Then she added, “He didn’t have to ask. I do—and always have—trusted him.”

  Hearing a vehicle pulling up outside, Ella glanced over at Blalock, who was looking out the window.

  “It’s your brother,” Blalock said looking back at her.

  Clifford came in a minute later, walking with measured, purposeful strides. He was a shade taller than Ella, lean, and carried the faint scent of piñon smoke on his jeans and cotton shirt. Right now he was also wearing the white headband that marked him as a hataalii.

  “I wasn’t followed,” he told Ella and Blalock. “I made very sure of that.”

  Trying to tail her brother was nearly impossible. She’d tried it herself several times, not only in vehicles, but on foot, and all her training and expertise had amounted to nothing more than a waste of time. If he hadn’t chosen the path of a medicine man, Clifford could have been a fearsome warrior.

  Clifford then focused solely on Marie. “I’ve brought you a very special medicine bundle. The collected substances inside it are ones that repel evil and attract good,” he said, handing her a small leather pouch. “It also contains something extra—a small, carved flint shield. Flint is very powerful because it emits a light that frightens evil away. Keep this bundle with the one still unable to protect himself.”

  Marie thanked him, and as she reached for her purse, Clifford shook his head. “No. Later. After the work is done.”

  “I didn’t tell you who it was for, but you already know, don’t you?” Marie asked, gazing at the bundle.

  Clifford nodded. “The bundle will help him.”

  Ella walked back outside with Clifford, her gaze taking in the street and houses around them. The badger fetish around her neck felt cool. “It’s vitally important that you keep this meeting a secret, brother.”

  “Done,” he said. “You need to watch out for yourself, too, sister.”

  Ella searched Clifford’s face for any indication, however minute, that he knew Kevin was at her house—and only a few miles from his own. If he did, he gave her no sign of it.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said, diverting him. “How do you feel about the Prickly Weed Project?”

  “The tribe needs money, and putting our agricultural land to better use is a good idea. The key is balance. Until the project is well underway, we need to make sure our people don’t rely on it.”

  As usual, her brother made perfect sense. “Watch your back and keep a close eye on your home and family. This case is . . . complicated,” she warned, knowing he’d fill in the blanks.

  Ella watched her brother drive away in his old pickup, then went to check with Justine. Her partner quickly assured her that no other vehicles had entered the development, and no curious neighbors had stepped outside for a look.

  Reassured, Ella walked back into the house. Marie was ready to go, so they loaded two large laundry bags filled with clothing into Blalock’s car in case they needed to back up their cover story. Shortly afterwards, Marie and Blalock set out, heading west.

  Ella and Justine followed them until they reached the airfield road, making sure they didn’t pick up a tail. Once Blalock turned east of the main highway. Ella looked over at Justine. “Keep heading south, I need to stop by my mother’s house.”

  The drive took less than ten minutes. When they arrived, Ella left Justine in the kitchen, greeted Teeny’s man, and went to look in on Kevin. She found him convalescing in bed and playing a video game with Dawn. Ella stood just outside the doorway and watched them for a while, unnoticed.

  “They’ve been like that since she got home from school,” Rose whispered, coming up behind her.

  “Let’s leave them to it,” Ella said softly, then slipped back down the hall with Rose. “Mom, I need to ask you something,” she said as soon as they reached the living room. “I understand that there’s some trouble brewing with the Traditionalists and the Modernists concerning the Prickly Weed Project. What do you know about that?”

  “Daughter, I’ve been so busy I didn’t realize how bad it really was—not until I learned that chiishch’ilí was attacked earlier today,” she said using the nickname she’d given Abigail Yellowhair. It meant the one with curly hair, and referred to Abigail’s frequent perms.

  “Have you—”

  Before Ella could say more, Dawn came out of her room and ran down the hall toward them. “Mom, I thought I heard you!”

  Ella gave her a hug. “I can’t stay. I just stopped by to talk to your grandmother and I’ll also need to talk to your father privately for a few minutes. Why don’t you get yourself a snack in the kitchen while I’m
doing that?”

  “I made some of your favorite piñon nut chocolate cookies,” Rose added.

  Dawn, whose appetite was never really satisfied, dashed off into the kitchen.

  “I’ll keep her busy, daughter. Do what you have to do.”

  Nodding to Mack Kelewood, who was standing next to the window and looking at the rear of the property, Ella went back into her daughter’s room.

  Kevin was propped up against the pillows, using their daughter’s laptop. As Ella stepped closer, she saw that he was working on a text file. She knew he backed up nonsensitive files on a secure Web site, easily downloaded. Kevin was as addicted to his work as she was to hers.

  Kevin smiled at her. “I thought we’d heard you out there.”

  Ella sat down on the edge of the bed. “I needed to talk to Mom, and figured I’d see how things were going here, too.”

  “Dawn’s been keeping me company since she got home from school.” He sagged back against the pillows.

  Ella suddenly realized how tired he really was. “Don’t let our daughter wear you out.”

  “She’s not. If anything, she’s the high point of my day. It feels really good to be able to spend some uninterrupted time with her.”

  “Dawn’s really something, isn’t she?” Ella asked with a gentle smile. “She can drive you crazy, but there’s just something about her that wraps itself around you.”

  Kevin reached for Ella’s hand. “You took a chance bringing me here, Ella. I’ll never be able to repay you for that, or for the extra time I’ll be able to spend with our daughter.

  “So tell me, what brought you back home this time of day?” he added.

  “I want to ask you a question about Adam,” she said, relieved to get back to business. “In your opinion, how likely is it that he might have accepted a bribe?”

  “No chance,” he said flatly. “Let me tell you something about Adam. If there’s such a thing as a completely honest man, Adam’s it. As I’ve told him from time to time, he has almost too much integrity to work in the nation’s capital,” Kevin added with a wink.

  Ella noted that he’d referred to Adam in the present tense, but decided not to let it slow her down. “Is it possible that he could have been convinced, or tricked into carrying an illegal bribe to someone here on the Rez, maybe in connection to the Prickly Weed Project?”

  “The thing is, Ella, there’s no one here who needs to be bribed. The majority want the deal to go through with IFT. What you found can’t be linked to something like that.”

  “All right. Thanks.” Ella stood. “Time for me to get back into the field.”

  “How did the Reverend take the news that I’m here?”

  Ella stopped at the door and glanced back. “I don’t know. I haven’t told him.”

  As she walked down the hall, she heard him chuckle. Annoyed—with herself and him—she met Justine and cocked her head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  They were in the car heading toward the highway moments later. “Where to next, partner?” Justine asked.

  “I want to talk to Emerson Lee. I need to find out if he considered Adam Lonewolf his enemy.”

  Even before they reached Shiprock, which was along the route, Ella grew aware of the odd, surreptitious glances Justine kept giving her. “What’s on your mind?” Ella asked her.

  “I still want to know about you and that job in D.C. We’ve had so many people leave our department in the past few years. We need you here more than ever.”

  “Seriously, I haven’t had much of a chance to think much about it. I’ve had too much other stuff coming at me.”

  Justine nodded.

  “You’ll get the bug eventually, partner. Whether you’ll actually go through with it like I did, that’s another matter. Ever consider leaving for a job, say, at the sheriff’s department, like your roommate Marianne? Or maybe the FBI?”

  “I suppose it could happen. I’ve spent my whole life in Shiprock, Ella,” Justine added softly. “Maybe I should see more of the country, like you did out of high school. The older I get, the less likely I am to invite change.”

  “I didn’t mean to put ideas in your head, Justine, but here’s a piece of advice, for what it’s worth. If you ever decide on a career change, know what you’re looking for before you set out after it,” Ella said in a thoughtful voice. “Sometimes when our goals are vague—when we’re searching for something we can’t define—we end up someplace we never intended to be. I was running from something when I left the Rez, not toward anything, and that was a mistake. Don’t do what I did.”

  They arrived at Emerson Lee’s place forty minutes later. To the south and east lay the irrigated fields of the Navajo Irrigation project. No vehicles were visible around the main building, but Justine gestured to a casita by the rear of the property at the end of a narrow lane bordered by stunted Russian olives. “Emerson is supposed to live back there.”

  “Park in the driveway and we’ll walk up,” Ella said.

  As they climbed out about twenty feet from the main house, Ella suddenly felt a ripple of unease. “On second thought, let’s wait here until he invites us up. That little courtesy might make things easier in the long run.”

  Ella moved into the shade the trees offered, ready to wait, when she heard a window being opened. Glancing back, she suddenly saw the barrel of a rifle being shoved out the opening.

  “Gun!” she yelled.

  As she and Justine dove to the gravel, a bullet whistled by, striking something solid several feet behind them.

  “Get your butts off my land,” Emerson’s voice called out. “Screw your promises about tribal industries. You want this land? You’ll have to kill me first!”

  EIGHTEEN

  Ella glanced around for Justine and saw her crawling into a low ditch that ran along the row of trees on the right side of the road. “You okay?” she called out.

  “Yeah,” came the answer.

  Ella studied the house, looking over the sights of her service pistol. The barrel of the rifle was no longer visible at the window. “Mr. Lee, this is Ella Clah of the Tribal Police. Put your weapon down and come out with your hands up.”

  “Huh?”

  Ella repeated herself, this time even louder.

  “Okay, hold on.” Emerson came out seconds later, squinting and holding his hand over his eyes to shield them from the setting sun.

  Ella and Justine came out from behind cover, holding their weapons by their sides, but ready for anything.

  “Hey, I remember you two ladies. You can put away your guns. I left the rifle on the table inside. It’s empty now. I’m out of bullets,” he said.

  Once in the shade of the tree-lined path, he stopped and waited as they drew near. “I can’t hit anything, you know—I’m old and have the shakes,” he said in an apologetic tone.

  “Why did you shoot at us?” Ella demanded, motioning for Justine to check out the casita.

  “I thought you were that squatter, Billy Garnenez, and his coyote pal, Alfred Begaye. If I’d known it was you, the medicine man’s sister, I wouldn’t have fired. I wouldn’t want to make the hataalii angry. He’s helped me and my family a lot.”

  “I’m arresting you for assaulting a police officer,” Ella said, reaching for her cuffs as she informed him of his rights. “You’re not allowed to shoot at people whenever you please.” Ella led him, cuffed, to their vehicle, and placed him in the backseat.

  Justine, who’d returned from the guest house, took her aside and showed her Emerson’s rifle, which she was carrying in her gloved hand. “It’s empty now, like he said. He only had one round in it.” She held out the empty thirty-thirty shell casing.

  “We’re still taking him in for assault on an officer,” Ella said.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Justine asked, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper. “That’s bound to stir things up even more. His supporters will say that the police are siding with the Modernists on the land issue.”r />
  “Too bad. We can’t allow Emerson to take potshots at whomever he pleases,” Ella said. “While we’re at it, let’s also check on his whereabouts when Abigail was attacked.”

  They returned to the station, and while Justine booked Emerson, Ella returned to her office. Before she’d even taken a seat, Joe Neskahi walked in.

  “I’ve got some news you’ll want to hear. Several tribal businessmen here on the Rez have banded together on behalf of the Prickly Weed Project. They’re organizing a big push, urging the tribe to take whatever unused land is needed from Emerson Lee and his daughter. They want the project in gear by next year’s growing season,” Joe said. “Lee and his clan are getting ready to meet them head-on at the next East Fruitland Chapter House meeting.”

  She knew the location of that particular chapter house—less than ten miles from the Lee-Morgan residences. “When’s that taking place?”

  “Tonight,” he said, giving her the time.

  “Are you sure they’re meeting that soon?”

  “Both sides wanted the matter brought up as quickly as possible. From what I’ve heard here and there, there’s going to be an all-out war.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up, Joe. I’m going to let Emerson cool his heels for a bit then see what I can learn from him.”

  “You got him here?” he asked, surprised.

  Ella told him about the incident and Joe whistled low. “He comes across as a crazy old coot, Ella, but just so you know, I’ve heard he can make a lot of sense when he wants to.”

  “Then it’s all an act?”

  “So I’ve heard,” Joe answered. “Just think about that shot he took at you. With the right spin he can get a lot of mileage out of that. Norm Hattery’s already outside, ready to pounce on you and Justine, and pushing to interview Lee.”

  “How did Hattery find out about it so quickly?” Ella asked. “Nobody except Lee, Justine, and I were there.”

  “Emerson called him—that was his one call. Sounds like you and Justine were set up.”