Magpie Speaks

by R. Allen Chappell

  “Maybe… I remember his mother used to live up there.”

  “Did you ever know a pair of brothers, cousins maybe? …Edward’s cousins?”

  “I knew them,” Billy Red Clay interrupted as he looked up, tapping the remaining sheet with a forefinger. “Nice quiet men––no families and no trouble.”

  “What?” Harley cocked his head at the tribal officer. He thought something had slipped by him, but wasn’t sure what.

  Charlie looked over at Billy and indicated Harley with a glance. “Okay if he knows about this?”

  Billy raised his hands palms up, glanced at the closed door, and nodded. “Just remember… I didn’t tell him.” He passed Charlie the second sheet. “It’ll be on the news in a couple of hours anyway.”

  ~~~~~~

  When Lucy Tallwoman’s daughter Alice returned to her mother’s camp that morning it was with the thought she might somehow mend fences or at least bring about some understanding of what had brought them to this sorry pass. While uncertain what good might come of it, she felt compelled to make this final attempt at reconciliation. Time was short––her destiny now preordained; for all she knew even tomorrow might be too late. She pulled the car up nearly to the hogan door, but when she got out of the vehicle, still didn’t trust her failing sense of balance to take her even that short distance. She felt quite strong except in the legs, which she thought undependable––several times that morning they had threatened to fail her completely.

  She watched as Lucy opened the door, eyes wide, mouth open in surprise. Alice marveled at how young her mother still looked, hardly older than herself. Though the two were within arms’ reach, they eyed one another without coming closer, neither willing to advance further. Alice looked suspiciously about the camp and thought them quite alone. She had hoped her ex-husband might be here as well, and was disappointed that his part would have to wait for another time… should there be another time. Now, what there was to say would have to be only for her mother.

  In a voice choked with emotion Lucy Tallwoman blurted, “I hear you are ill.” She reached out a hand, and it trembled as she touched her daughter’s cheek.

  “That is the truth… sad as it is.” Alice turned her face away but kept her voice steady. “They say I don’t have very long…” She thought, this thing is what it is, and no words can make it any better.

  Lucy faltered, “We’ve been all over looking for you… Your grandfather and me… He thought you might come back here sometime, but I wasn’t so sure. I thought you might never want to see me again.” Lucy’s throat tightened; she dropped her hand to the folds of her skirt and was unable to continue.

  Alice lifted her chin and sniffed. “I didn’t want to see any of you for a long time, but I’m past that. I’m in a different place now… those things are not important anymore.” Alice looked beyond her mother and thought, how hard this is, and after all this time, too. Who would have thought it would still be so difficult, but no harder for one than the other. Of that she was sure. “I’m trying to tie up a few loose ends while I still can and just thought this would be the best place to start. I’d hoped Thomas might be here, too. I really only came to say goodbye.”

  “Well, your grandfather had Thomas take him to find that damned witch, Edward Bitsinnii––they say he might be back at his mother’s old camp up Gobernador Wash. They will have to go all the way up there, I guess. They won’t be back until late.” Lucy bit her tongue and thought perhaps she might have already said too much.

  Alice appeared disappointed at this and seemed more agitated, though it certainly wasn’t news to her; she had known about Edward Bitsinnii since running into Harley. He had gone on and on in a drunken tirade about the witch of Ganado, and how his curse had ruined his life. She well remembered Edward from when she was a child. To her young mind he had carried an aura of evil about him even then––all but her grandfather seemed to fear him. Once, when her mother had taken her along on a trip to Abiquiú for a gathering of weavers, it had been pointed out where Edward Bitsinnii lived with his mother. Alice had a memory like Paul’s and she had never forgotten.

  It was Paul himself who brought the man up again on their ride into the doctor’s office. When Alice had asked him about Edward Bitsinnii and his curse, Paul turned a hard eye on his granddaughter. “He must be stopped,” he said, “But first, he must lift the spell. Death don’t bring an end to a curse… only he who laid it can do that, and it must be of his own will.”

  Lucy watched as her daughter’s face changed, grew harder, inscrutable, and for just a moment she had the fleeting thought Alice might turn and bolt. But her daughter only steadied herself at the car’s fender, then straightened slightly, and stared back at her mother.

  “Did Grandfather tell you I was married now… and to a white man?” Her eyes went flat and she said this last in a strained voice, frowned and blinked several times before whispering. “His name is Frank Harney. He was in the Marines for a long time… now he owns the bar where I work in Gallup.” She straightened her skirt with one hand and smoothed her hair with the other and her voice softened. “He says he couldn’t run the place without me.” She sniffed again and lifted her chin. “We do lots of things together. We go out to eat at fancy places… He even takes me shooting sometimes and says I’m really quite good at it.” She grew secretive, “I have my own gun. Would you like to see it?”

  It was now obvious to Lucy her daughter’s mind was still not right and suspected she might again be teetering on the edge of darkness.

  Alice readily saw what she was thinking. Why, my mother hasn’t changed at all. She still blames me for everything bad that ever happened. She drew back, narrowed her eyes, and in a sly voice said, “Well, I have someone waiting for me. I’ll have to go now, but maybe I can drop back by, later this evening when Thomas is here, and we can all have a nice little chat. Get things straightened out, you know…”

  Lucy was beginning to think she did know, and fear trickled down her spine like ice water.

  As Alice backed the car away from the hogan she wondered if she had the strength to accomplish what must be done… even with help it wouldn’t be easy.

  ~~~~~~

  Thomas Begay looked across the truck at his father-in-law and wished the man would stop his muttering. Paul hadn’t quit talking to himself since they left that morning, and Thomas had been able to understand very little of it. Sometimes it sounded like he was speaking old Navajo, and then other times some pidgin English/Navajo mix. He had never seen his father-in-law so upset, and once again suspected the old man might be losing his grip.

  After they had asked around town and talked to several people about Edward, and all without luck, Thomas was ready to go home. Paul T’Sosi had been the one to insist they go looking for Edward Bitsinnii not him.

  “That man will never leave us be,” Paul warned. “We’ll have to go to Gobernador.” He was certain Edward had come back to do them more harm and might already be at his mother’s old place. Even if he wasn’t, he thought, someone there might know his whereabouts. Paul was obsessed with the witch now, convinced it was necessary to take the fight to him–– before the man could send any more evil their way.

  Thomas didn’t think any part of this trip was a good idea and if not for Charlie’s son… and Harley, seriously doubted he would have gone along this morning, despite the old man’s demands. Thomas was of the Salt People and remembered hearing the stories they passed down from Navajo Mountain. He recalled the fear in their voices when they spoke of that long ago scourge of witches in that country. Before it was over, several people were left dead, the clan divided, some even leaving for good. That was why his part of the family had separated from the rest and moved south. His Uncle John Nez and a few clan cousins were all the family he had left up there at Navajo Mountain. Thomas considered witches to be serious business even in a more modern Navajo world.

  ~~~~~~

  Harley Ponyboy had insisted on stopping in Bloomfield for breakf
ast… said his nerves were getting to him and thought it might help to eat something. Charlie agreed… was hungry himself… they had left the house before daybreak, and he hadn’t wanted to wake Sue. Neither was he anxious to be involved in the first flush of the murder investigation at Gobernador, at least not in the official one. It wouldn’t hurt to have a little breakfast.

  The night before, a strong frontal system slid off the Colorado Plateau and pushed its icy edge down into the Four Corners––Harley was certain it foretold an early winter. The men shrugged deeper into their jackets as they left the restaurant.

  Charlie made good time from Bloomfield to Gobernador, neither man saying much, though Harley did mention the hope that no dead people had been left lying around up there. When they finally pulled over at the turnoff to the Bitsinnii place there was a young Navajo man standing by the road, apparently waiting for a ride. Harley rolled down the window to greet him, then listened as the fellow cautioned them about several police cars farther up the road. He said the Bitsinnii place was cordoned off––something about some killings, he’d heard. He raised an eyebrow at the logo on Charlie’s truck but let it pass. He had hoped he might catch a ride with them on their way back out but now thought better of it.

  Harley thanked him for his information, waved him goodbye, and then turned to Charlie. “Maybe we better take it slow and scope the place out.” Accordingly, Charlie stopped on a slight rise above the camp and, despite being warned, the two still were surprised at the activity. The old trailer house was strung with yellow “crime scene” tape, as was a Ford stock truck by the corrals. The entrance to the camp had two official vehicles blocking access. Charlie thought no one would be left here by now––the news being already a number of hours old. It occurred to him the FBI’s forensic people might have been left behind to work their magic––one of the cars wore government plates. He hoped Agent Mayfield wasn’t among those in the trailer. He doubted the FBI man would be happy to see him and Harley. He was still picking at this when Harley nudged him and pushed his chin toward a little scatter of junipers off to their left.

  “You don’t suppose those two killed Edward’s cousins, do you?” Harley wasn’t smiling when he said this, and it took Charlie a moment to decide if he was serious or not. Thomas’s pickup was nearly screened by stunted juniper, with his father-in-law clearly peering out a side window at them. Word travels fast on the reservation, and Charlie was sure several people might already have stopped to gawk and wonder that morning. There had probably been flashing lights and maybe even sirens; that always draws a crowd on the reservation. Even in a totally isolated region such as this, people just seemed to appear out of nowhere. But he knew this pair hadn’t come by chance. He was pretty sure he knew what brought them and was glad they had been too late.

  “Harley, you go on over and talk to Thomas, see if they know anything. Maybe the news is on the radio already. I’ll go down to the camp and see what’s going on down there… if they’ll let me in.

  No matter if a Navajo has lived in a place for twenty years and has a fine cinderblock home with all the trappings of modern living, he might still refer to his home-place as his “camp,” not ranch or farm, but his “camp.” It must be a term left over from the old nomadic days, Charlie thought, and smiled at his own use of the word on occasion.

  When he pulled up behind the tribal police unit, he wasn’t surprised to find Officer Billy Red Clay already there ahead of them. Billy was hunkered over his radio, filling out forms, and Charlie could hear him talking even before he reached the open window. The policeman had watched in his rearview mirror as the white Chevrolet made its way off the hill. He turned now from the radio and held up a finger as he finished his conversation. “Took you long enough.” Billy put his pencil in his shirt pocket and turned down the radio.

  “We stopped to eat.”

  Billy nodded. “I wish I had; I’m starving.”

  Charlie smiled. “I’d brought you something had I known.”

  Billy grinned and waved it off. “I see Uncle Thomas hiding up there on the hill. Who’s that with him… his father-in-law.”

  “Yep, that’s who it is. Paul’s out to get Edward Bitsinnii for being a witch.”

  “Oh geez, not more of that stuff.” Billy was from a fairly traditional family himself, but he didn’t give as much credence to witches as some did. He had seen too much of it and knew what kind of harm it could do. “The old man might be too late if it’s Edward Bitsinnii he’s after.”

  Charlie frowned, “How so? He’s not dead, is he?”

  “Not as far as we can tell just yet, but someone other than the two dead cousins was obviously here at some point… maybe more than one.”

  Charlie worked this over in his mind for a moment then indicated the government car with a twist of his head. “Agent Mayfield’s not still here, I hope?”

  “Nope, you just missed him, but a couple of his boys are still there––the Lab boys and one agent.” He chuckled. “They’re thorough bastards I’ll say that for them.”

  “How was Mayfield’s temperature this morning?”

  Billy Red Clay stroked his chin. He was trying to grow some chin whiskers and was inordinately proud of the few he had produced. Only the day before Thomas had commented that his nephew was starting to look like a Billy goat.

  “Like always, it’s hard to tell what Mayfield’s thinking. He don’t say a whole helluva lot. Sam Shorthair was the only one who could really get anything out of him… Eldon still don’t say much to me.”

  Billy tugged at his whiskers again, and Charlie could see what Thomas had meant and smiled. He thought Billy Red Clay sounded a lot like his old boss, Samuel Shorthair, when he talked about Agent Mayfield, and this, too, made him smile. Charlie had liked Sam. “What have they come up with––have they said much about what they’ve found so far?” Charlie was giving most of his attention to the trailer house and the shadowy figures he could see through the partially open door.

  “I’m still waiting to hear something from the forensic guys in there.” Billy shot a calculating glance at the trailer. “But, you know the FBI… they’re pretty closemouthed. They’ll probably want to report to Eldon before releasing anything to tribal. A new agent’s in there with the lab boys right now… some kind of crime scene expert, Eldon said… seems like a good sort. He’s on loan from the Albuquerque office––he’s from this part of the country, too. I get along with him pretty well. Maybe he’ll throw us a bone.”

  Charlie looked across the top of Billy’s SUV, at the faded red stock-truck by the corrals, now ablaze with yellow warning tape. “Where did they find the bodies? In the house?”

  “No, the brothers were right over there in their truck. They’ve already been taken into town.” Billy checked his notes. “Probably happened about five o’clock yesterday afternoon. A neighbor dropped by this morning to pick up a ram he had been promised and saw them dead in the truck. He didn’t get too close, of course, but said he could tell they were dead all right. He was more worried about the sheep. Said they hadn’t been fed since yesterday, as far as he could tell.” Billy Red Clay smiled at the man’s sense of priorities. No matter how close someone might be in life, once dead they cease to be a factor in most people’s mind. “After he fed the sheep, he flagged down a car at the highway and had them call us.” The officer grew thoughtful. “The authorities aren’t quite sure yet what they’ll do with the brothers’ remains… I mean, after the autopsies. The two don’t seem to have any relatives left up here, at least none we’ve heard of so far.”

  Charlie thought that a little sad but let it pass. “So, you didn’t see the bodies before they took them away?” He thought it odd that both of the brothers could be killed right there in their own truck and at the same time. “You would think one of them would have tried to make a run for it.” Charlie was staring at the twin bullet holes in the truck’s windshield, visible even at that distance.

  “Well, no, I didn’t see the bodies,
and Agent Mayfield was already on his way out of here when I pulled in. He was in the federal building in Farmington when he got the report so was a lot closer than me. When I saw him, he was in a hurry to get back into town. Brushed me off, I guess you’d say. He said he’d send us the report when it was finished.”

  Charlie kept nodding his head at the tribal officer as though to urge him on and not interrupt his interpretation of what was known. When finally the policeman grew quiet, Charlie asked, “That’s it?”

  Billy looked again toward the trailer before adding, “When I first got here, I did go talk to the neighbor that reported it. He said the one brother was half out of the pickup when he found them. So maybe one did try to get away… just wasn’t quick enough. The neighbor said he didn’t really know anything about Edward Bitsinnii or if he had been here at the time. He said he hadn’t seen any strange vehicles around the place. But he did mention he thought he heard a car come up this way yesterday, sometime after noon, or maybe a little later. He knew the brothers were in town at the sale barn and first thought he had imagined it… but then a short time later he heard what sounded like that same vehicle going back out. He didn’t see anything either time, but his house is below the hill and he was busy chopping wood most of the day so was lucky to hear the car both times.” Billy rethought the thing for a minute. “He must have missed the bother’s truck coming home, didn’t say anything about it.” He cocked an eye at Charlie. “I don’t mind if you talk to him yourself… you might get more out of him without the uniform.”

  Charlie nodded but had already figured he would send Thomas and old Paul T’Sosi to the neighbors. If the person had lived there a long time, Paul might even know him and may indeed be able to learn more than the tribal policeman.

  They looked up as the door of the trailer creaked and swung open allowing three people to file out. One carried a bulky black case, and when he stumbled on the homemade steps, he held the case closer, looked back at the steps, and cursed. The other two backed out of his way, then followed him out to the car, where he hefted his equipment into the back seat and settled himself alongside it without another word. One of the others opened the front passenger door but didn’t get in. This one watched over the top of the vehicle as the third man, wearing a black jacket with big yellow FBI letters on the back, made his way over to Billy Red Clay’s SUV.