by Aimée Thurlo
As her Song rose in the air, Leigh Ann remained perfectly still. The monotone chant held a mesmerizing quality that seemed to resonate with power and the richness of traditions she didn’t understand.
The haunting quality of Jo’s Sing drew her in, and she felt herself relaxing. Its soothing nature wove itself around her, pushing away everything except the harmony the Song brought as a gift to those present.
Jo handed Melvin a special pouch. “In this bag are a rock crystal and some sacred pollen. During creation, a crystal was placed in the mouth of every person so that everything he or she said would come true. Pollen is a symbol of well-being, so in this case, the crystal acts as your prayer, the pollen as the blessing of harmony.”
“Thank you,” Melvin said, holding on to the pouch.
“I want you to meditate on Happiness Girl and Long-Life Boy. One of the many things they represent is achievement of a goal—success.”
They sat in silence. After several minutes, Melvin’s breathing became more rhythmic.
“Shut out all other sounds and listen only to my voice,” Jo said. “Think about that night. What do you see in your mind?”
“The glare of headlights, then the car, upside down, bobbing in the water, its wheels still turning.”
“Concentrate only on the sounds around you. What do you hear?” Jo asked.
“Water rushing by, bubbling, and a voice … calling to me.”
“A man’s voice? A woman’s?” Jo asked.
“No, a girl’s. It’s a high-pitched sound above the rushing water.”
“What’s she saying?”
“Hurry, uncle, swim. I’ll pull you out.”
“Now focus on her and tell me about her.”
“She’s standing in ankle-deep water, reaching out to me with one hand.”
“Her hair, is it long or short?” Jo asked, her voice calm, soothing.
“Long, down to her waist, and black. She’s Navajo.”
A small noise caught Leigh Ann’s attention and she looked over at Ambrose. He was writing something on a small pad.
“Is her hair loose?” Jo asked.
“No, it’s braided, on one side. My right side, her left.”
“Is she wearing glasses?” Jo continued.
“Yes, dark frames.”
“Is she thin, medium, or heavy set?” Jo asked.
“Slender—straight up and down,” Melvin answered, his voice calm. “Lanky.”
“Tell me what she wearing,” Jo said.
“Jeans and a light-colored T-shirt. There’s something drawn across it. It’s long and slender and pointed on one end.” He remained silent for a moment. “It’s a blue feather.”
Melvin used one hand to wipe the perspiration off his forehead and expelled his breath in a hiss. “The images are gone. Now there’s only gray.”
“We are finished,” Jo said. “The blessing has been given and it is done. Now all is well.”
As Jo brought the blessing to a close, Melvin tried to hand the medicine pouch back to her, but Jo declined.
“It’s for you to keep. It’s part of the blessing.”
While Leigh Ann, Melvin, and Ambrose returned to the trading post, Jo remained behind to gather up the items she’d used and to restore order.
Sam, who’d arrived in the interim to work on software, greeted them with a smile and went to the café counter to fix herself an Outpost Blast.
Leigh Ann looked at Ambrose. “What were you writing back there?”
“I wasn’t writing. I was sketching the girl based on Melvin’s description.” He turned the pad so she could see the image.
“That was a good idea,” Melvin said. “It’s all fading away again for me.”
“I made some mocha cappuccinos for all of you,” Sam said, coming to join them. “They’re on me.”
They sat down, and once Jo joined them, Ambrose passed around his sketch so they could all study it.
“The T-shirt looks familiar,” Jo said, mulling it over.
Sam took a look. “That’s the logo of Cottonwood Elementary School, a private school over in Waterflow. Their mascot is the piñon jay,” Sam said. “My oldest sister’s niece is a first-grader there.”
“That’s the closest community to where the accident occurred,” Melvin said.
Ambrose studied his sketch with a critical eye. “It’s a pretty generic image—thin Navajo girl with the characteristic high cheekbones, dark eyes, and the rest. It’s the glasses and braid down one side that may open up some possibilities.”
“But kids change and that was what she looked like five years ago,” Melvin said.
“We know the school the girl attended back then, so if we can access some old yearbooks from that time period, we might get a hit,” Leigh Ann said.
“It’s useless to try and find anything like that online,” Sam said. “Yearbooks with photos of underage children tend not to show up until those people become adults. It protects the kids.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Melvin said. “Look how far we’ve come. Jo?” he added, looking toward the place where he’d last heard her voice.
“I’m here,” she answered.
“Thank you. What you did for me…”
“Was only a favor for a friend,” she said.
Leigh Ann watched them and smiled. The trading post was the glue that held them together. As long as it stood, none of them would ever have to fight alone.
* * *
Jo opened the back door slowly, wondering why everyone had come in so early this morning. It was barely six thirty and the staff parking area was full of cars. Even Ambrose had skipped breakfast to hurry over from the house. As she crossed the storeroom, she heard laughter in the break room.
“We hear you, boss,” Leigh Ann called out. “Come and join us. Regina brought fried pies, I made coffee, and Ambrose is about to sing.”
“Just a sec,” Jo replied, hurrying into her office and moving the computer mouse to wake up the screen. No emails. There was still no word on Ben.
Leaving her purse, she walked into the break room, deciding not to let her mood ruin the day. “I didn’t know Ambrose could sing,” she said, glancing at Leigh Ann, Melvin, Regina, and Ambrose, who were seated around the big table, pastry and coffee in front of each of them.
They all laughed at her comment, especially Ambrose. “I can’t, but I’m so hungry I was ready to do anything to get you in here. We’re having a small celebration this morning. With Sorrelhorse in jail and Pierre Boone on the run, things are definitely looking up.”
Regina offered Jo a plate with a golden fried pie. “Peach?”
“My favorite, thanks,” Jo said, taking a seat. “So what is this really, a bribe? You all want a raise?”
“Yeah, and I don’t even work here,” Melvin replied, eliciting laughter.
Esther came down the hall carrying a heavy tote bag.
“More goodies?” Jo asked, taking a cup of coffee offered by Leigh Ann, who was seated closest to the coffeepot.
“Of a sort. Sorry I’m late, people, but it took me longer than expected to get what I needed.” Esther took several school yearbooks from her bag. “Sam told me what you all learned last night. Since my neighbor’s kids all went to Cottonwood Elementary when they were young, I was sure I could borrow some yearbooks.
“I borrowed ones dating as far back as seven years,” she continued. “If the girl you saw that night attended that school, Melvin, she’ll be in one of these. This may take some time, but it’ll be easier than going to the school and trying to wade through their red tape.”
“That’s great, Esther. We’ll look through these during our breaks today and compile a list of names that might fit Ambrose’s sketch,” Leigh Ann said.
“I’ll leave them all here in the corner,” Esther said, setting down the bag. “Now I’m going to try one of Regina’s fried pies. Any apple ones left?”
“Sure,” Regina said. “I saved one for you.”
Ambrose stood and pulled back an empty chair. “Sit over here, Esther. Join me, or I’ll sing.”
* * *
Leigh Ann unlocked the front door for business, greeting three customers already waiting on the porch. Two of them headed directly for the coffee bar, where Esther was waiting to serve them, and the third grabbed a shopping cart.
Ambrose and Melvin had joined forces and were setting up at a table where their artistic skills could be seen and discussed by anyone who came inside.
Jo was at the front register, so Leigh Ann decided to sneak into the break room and take a quick look through the yearbook that coincided with the time of Melvin’s accident.
She started with the oldest children, the fifth-graders. Leigh Ann looked at two classes and found five girls wearing glasses, but the only two who had slender faces weren’t Navajo. One was black, the other was white, what locals called an Anglo. She flipped to the fourth-graders. Two had glasses, but they were light-colored frames and only one had long hair.
Leigh Ann wrote down her name anyway, and decided to look at the group photos in the front more closely, hoping to spot a girl with a braid. As she leafed through the pages, she found a listing for “late comers.” Among the photos there was one of a girl who fit Melvin’s description almost perfectly—the hair, the braid, and the slender build. She was also a fifth-grader.
“Got you,” Leigh Ann said, quickly writing the girl’s name on a sticky note.
“Meaning our mystery girl?” Ambrose said, stepping into the room.
“Look at the photo, then your sketch,” Leigh Ann said, pointing at the images. Ambrose did and smiled.
“Irene Largo. Hopefully, she still lives in the area.”
“The Largo name sounds familiar to me, but I’m not sure why,” Leigh Ann said.
“If she goes to Kirtland Central now, maybe Del knows her,” Ambrose said.
“I’ll ask when he comes in,” she said.
Ambrose poured two cups of coffee. “When I take Melvin his cup, you want me to tell him you’ve got a hit?”
“Yeah, but remind him that all we’ve really got is a possibility. By the end of today, we may have found other girls who also fit the sketch,” Leigh Ann said.
“Good point.”
Hearing the office phone ring, Leigh Ann hurried down the hall to answer it. Jo, coming from the opposite direction, got to it first. “Hello. The Outpost. Josephine Buck speaking.”
Leigh Ann stood, wondering if this was The Call. Then she remembered that in the case of death or serious injury the army delivered that news in person.
“Yes, Lieutenant, this is Jo Buck,” Jo said quickly, her voice somber. “Have you heard anything more about Ben? I mean, Sergeant Stuart.”
Unable to hear the other side of the conversation, Leigh Ann held her breath and watched Jo.
“Yes, I understand. Do you have any idea when we’ll know?” Jo asked, her voice shaky. “All right, then.”
Jo listened for a while longer, looked up and saw Leigh Ann, then with tears in her eyes managed a shrug. “No, no thanks. I’m staying right here where I can keep busy. You can reach me at the trading post, or on my cell. Call when you get news. “Yes … Bye.”
As Jo hung up, her shoulders sagged.
“Here, darling, let me hang on to you for a while,” Leigh Ann said, giving Jo a hug. She heard footsteps and turned to see Esther, Melvin, and Ambrose crowding into the doorway. Regina was right behind them.
Jo stood up straight and stepped back, wiping away her tears. “It’s not necessarily bad news. The downed helicopter has been located, and appears to have crash-landed safely despite being damaged. The crew apparently abandoned the aircraft and sought cover. A rescue unit is on the ground and an operation is underway to neutralize enemy snipers before they bring in any more choppers. There’s evidence from a surveillance drone that the crash survivors may have established a defensive perimeter around a cave, but other than that no more information is available.”
“Any idea when you’ll know?” Ambrose asked.
Jo shook her head. “Several hours, maybe longer. The lieutenant said I could come and wait in his office at the Federal Building in Farmington, but I told him I’d rather be here working with you guys.”
“With family,” Esther said with a nod, and reached out to squeeze her hand. “We’ve been praying for Ben, and for you, and we’re not going to stop now.”
“Thank you.” She looked from face to face, managed a smile, then looked out into the hall. “Who’s managing the store? Let’s get to work, people.”
— TWENTY —
It was close to 7:00 P.M. when Leigh Ann drove up a narrow but paved street in a small housing development just east of Kirtland Central High School, along old Highway 64.
“Okay, we’re here. The house number matches, so this is where Irene Largo lives, according to Del. I knew that name sounded familiar. Del dated one of the Largo girls a while back,” Leigh Ann said, pulling into the driveway of a modest stucco home with a metal roof and decorative window shutters. A light blue minivan was parked close to the door, and, as she stopped, someone parted a window curtain and looked out.
While Leigh Ann walked around to help Melvin out, the front door of the house opened and a Navajo woman in her mid-thirties came out onto the concrete stoop. “May I help you?” she asked, reaching out to grab a small child trying to squeeze past.
“Back inside, sweetie,” the woman said to the child. “Irene, could you take Amy?”
“Coming.” It was the voice of a teenage girl. Hearing it, Leigh Ann gave Melvin’s hand a squeeze as he stepped out of the Jeep.
“Mrs. Largo? I’m Leigh Ann Vance, and this is my friend, Melvin Littlewater. We’re the people Del Hudson called you about. Could we speak to you and your daughter Irene for a few minutes?”
Leigh Ann heard a gasp and turned to see a tall, slender Navajo girl with long black hair standing on the porch, her arms wrapped around the little one. She was staring at Melvin like she’d seen a ghost.
“Mom, it’s him! He’s the man I saw on top of the truck in the canal that night.”
* * *
Five minutes later, Melvin and Leigh Ann were seated on a love seat facing the sofa where Irene and her mom sat. In the middle was the little girl, who was clutching a stuffed dog and staring at the strangers.
“It was after dinner and dark outside, and I was walking home from Kathy’s house, remember, Mom?” Irene said.
The woman nodded. “My old Chevy wouldn’t start, so I was waiting for Irene’s father to come home so we could go pick her up,” Mrs. Largo explained, then looked at her daughter, and added, “You should have stayed at Kathy’s, like I told you.”
“I know, but I had that project to finish before I went to bed, and I’d walked along the ditch tons of times before,” Irene said.
“Never in the dark, alone, with no flashlight or cell phone,” her mother added.
“Okay, now I know better. Anyway, I was walking down the ditch bank and a truck drove past me on the highway. Then a car raced by, passing the truck like it was standing still. But the guy in the car cut back too soon and crashed right into the truck, knocking it off the road and into the canal. The guy in the car also lost control, flipped, and it went over the guardrail. It ended up in the canal, upside down and pinned up against one of those big floodgates. It was weird, because the headlights on the car were still on. I could see the truck floating down the ditch, too, about to smash into the car.”
Leigh Ann could see Irene’s hands shaking. She could tell that Melvin’s shoulders were rigid and tense. Leigh Ann put her hand on his arm, silently supporting him.
“That was you in the truck, right, Mr. Littlewater?”
“Yes. At least I wasn’t upside down,” Melvin said.
“I was running toward the accident when I saw you climb out the window and up onto the roof of the truck’s cab,” Irene said. “I tried to wade in, but the sides of the ditch were too ste
ep.”
“You almost fell in,” he said.
“I wanted to help but I couldn’t reach you,” she said, choking back a sob.
“It’s okay Irene, you did everything you could. You were only what, ten or eleven?” Melvin said gently.
“She was eleven,” Mrs. Largo responded. “And when she couldn’t find help, she turned around and ran home.”
“I could hear cars stopping to see what was going on, but because the headlights on the car that was in the water had gone out, I was afraid no one would spot you and you’d drown. I thought if I could get home in a hurry, Mom and Dad could do something.”
“When Irene ran up the driveway, my husband and I were already in our pickup, about to go looking for her,” Mrs. Largo said. “Irene jumped in, soaked to her knees, and told us about the accident. On the way there I called 911. I was told that the deputies and emergency personnel were already on the scene. Traffic was backed up ahead, so we turned around and came back home.”
Melvin nodded. “You never told the sheriffs’ department that Irene had been there.”
“No, it was already over, and we wanted to keep her out of it. Later, we read in the newspaper that the driver of the car had drowned and that you, Mr. Littlewater, had survived but were blind.”
“I had nightmares about that accident for a long time,” Irene said in a shaky voice.
Mrs. Largo nodded. “She’d wake up screaming and crying. It took her almost a year to get back to normal.”
“I’m glad you made it and that you’re okay, well, except for…” Irene stopped. “I’m sorry. That was really stupid.”
“Don’t feel bad. I’m okay, and although I lost my sight, being blind has made me aware of things I might never have noticed otherwise.” Melvin squeezed Leigh Ann’s hand. “We should go now.”
* * *
Leigh Ann drove in silence, looking over at Melvin from time to time. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the Largo home. She had been silent as well, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts. Now he had closure, but she wasn’t sure if that had brought him the peace he’d wanted.