On the way into Shiprock Thomas Begay kept one eye on the speedometer. That would be all I need now is a ticket. He was still on edge and knew it wouldn’t take much to set him off. Thomas didn’t do well under pressure, never had, and that had been the cause of many a bad decision, some of which he was still paying for. He switched on the radio… and then switched it off. He rolled his window down an inch or two, felt the chill and rolled it back up. This was going to be harder than he thought. Thomas could usually bull his way through a bad situation, but now, he thought better of it. This was not the time.
Past Shiprock, and just before Waterflow, he slowed the truck and swung up the gravel drive to Charlie Yazzie’s place. He had no idea where Lucy’s father and his ex-wife had gone and figured he could use a little help. As he pulled past the corral he saw both of the Yazzie horses looking out at him from the resurrected shed. He nodded at them and waved at the gelding.
Charlie and Harley Ponyboy had just come in from outside and were sitting at the kitchen table about to start a game of cards. The Navajo are natural born gamblers, men and women alike, and if they’ve nothing to play for… they will play for nothing. Each man had a small pile of match sticks in front of him and these would take on a perceived value as the game continued. Harley was arguing they should play for money, saying Charlie could take his part out of the wages owed him for his work on the shed.
“No,” Charlie said, “you are going to need that money, and you’re a poor gambler. We had best just play for fun.”
Harley puffed up like a toad and spluttered he could take care of himself in a card game… he was about to say more when Thomas appeared at the door and Sue went to let him in.
They were surprised to see Thomas again so soon, but the look on his face said it was something that could wait. Charlie silently dealt him in and shoved a little pile of matches his way. Thomas brightened a little and sat down at his usual place collected his hand, and studied the cards. He looked across at Charlie from time to time to measure his depth of interest, and knew he was the one to beat. Thomas was quite good at cards.
“So, what brings you back in so soon?” Charlie didn’t take his eyes off his hand and tried not to change expression.
Thomas discarded two cards, leading the others to surmise he may have drawn poorly. “Paul T’Sosi has disappeared I guess. Alice came and took him away early this morning.” He placed his cards face down on the table and held up two fingers. “Lucy’s about to go scattie-boo.”
Charlie dealt him two more cards and turned to Harley, who waved him off, instantly making his friends think he had nothing and was bluffing as usual. It was Harley’s only strategy and was well known to the others.
“Any idea where they went?” Harley studied his cards and fingered his pile of matches before shoving nearly half of them into the center.
Thomas looked over at him and smiled at the bet. “Not really, but there is one place she might have gone, now that I’ve had time to think about it.”
Charlie dealt himself only one card, causing Thomas to lower an eyelid at him and think he should have taken three cards instead of just the two.
Harley sat quietly, holding his hand close to his chest. He tried not to look at anyone––unlike most Indians, Harley couldn’t maintain much of a poker face and he knew it.
Charlie laid his own cards face down and reached over to count the matches Harley had bet, then carefully added the same number, as did Thomas after looking at his two draws.
Neither of the other two asked Thomas where he thought his ex-wife had taken Paul T’Sosi, as they knew he would tell them when he was ready and the hand had played out. Thomas liked to tackle things in their order of importance.
When the “pot” was right, Charlie turned over his cards; he had jacks over tens but had missed the hoped-for full house.
Thomas spread his cards face up and couldn’t help but chuckle as he tapped the kings over aces with a finger. He couldn’t have wished for more and was about to drag the pot when Harley held up a finger and laid his cards one at a time face up for them to see. It was a royal flush, the first one he’d ever had. He didn’t even smile as he raked in all the matches. “I wish we had played for money,” he declared, and the others could see he was serious.
Charlie and Thomas looked at one another and Thomas eyed Harley in a thoughtful manner. “I’d say you cheated… if I thought you even knew how.”
“I just wish we had played for money,” Harley said again. “I doubt I’ll ever get another hand like that.” The other two agreed it wasn’t likely, and Charlie pushed the deck to the center of the table. There was little point in continuing the game now.
“So, where do you guess Alice took the old man… and why would she anyway?” Charlie knew what was coming and that it was already too late for him and Harley to back out.
“It’s not far,” Thomas said, “if it’s where I’m thinking they might be.”
This rather cryptic reply made Charlie frown, though it made perfect sense to Harley who was generally more attuned to Thomas’s way of thinking.
Charlie didn’t hesitate. “You’re not thinking of that place up under the bluffs where you and Alice used to stay are you?”
“What made you think of that?” Thomas was surprised. “You might make an investigator yet.”
“Billy Red Clay called me after lunch and said Alice had been spotted filling up with gas at the Quick Stop… had the attendant check her tires… said she thought she might have picked up a nail crossing a bridge. She gave him a ten dollar tip––that’s why he remembered her. He said she couldn’t walk very well so he’d gone out to pump the gas for her.” Charlie stopped and tried to remember if Billy Red Clay had said anything else, but thought he hadn’t. “None of it meant anything to Billy and he wondered if I had any ideas. I didn’t have any at the time, but later recalled you and Alice used to stay at that upper camp across the river in the old log hogan just under the bluffs, back in your drinking days.”
Harley raised his eyebrows. “Ten dollars is a pretty big tip for checking tires. Alice told me she didn’t have any money left when we were riding around together. Maybe she just didn’t want ta buy anymore liquor.”
“Well, she has money now, she filled up her car and loaded up on sandwich stuff. Billy figured it must have cost thirty-five or forty dollars by the time she was through. The attendant said she had a wad of money, but he still felt sorry for her.
Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know why, but that’s the first place that came to my mind, too. As far as I know, Alice never lived anywhere but Paul’s camp, and up there, before she ran off to Gallup.” Thomas didn’t like thinking about those days He and his first wife, Sally Buck, had once lived up that way, too, but that was before Alice. Sally was dead now so he didn’t want to think about her either. “That whole area has been abandoned for a long time now. There’s been so much death up there over the years no one wants to go around those camps anymore.”
Charlie called to Sue, and she came from the baby’s room with what he thought a rather grim look on her face. He told her he and Harley would have to go with Thomas and why. “We shouldn’t be gone long… we really don’t even know where we’re going.” He said as though this admission might make his wife think they would give up early, and come home.
Sue knew the remark really meant it could take a very long time. She gave her husband another stern look and eyed the stove before saying, “It was going to be enchiladas for supper, but I guess we can forget that.”
Hearing this, Harley made a little face, put on his jacket, and pulled a wool hat over his ears. As he moved past her to catch up with the others, he whispered. “I like enchiladas.”
In the truck the three of them hunched deeper into their coats and waited for the heater to get warm and blow heat. That didn’t come until they were nearly past the turn off to Johnny Deboe’s place on the river.
“What the hell’s wrong with this heater?” Thomas de
manded, trying to take Harley’s mind off the fact that they were passing close to where his wife’s body had been found. “You would think a brand new truck, and a Chevy at that, would be a little quicker with the heat than this.”
Harley leaned forward, looked around Thomas, and down the lane that led to Johnny Deboe’s. “It’s alright,” he said, “She’s gone now and her four days are almost up. She’s probably in that other place by now, and we aren’t supposed to mention her anymore.”
Charlie glanced out his side window and sighed at this bit of information. A traditional Navajo had four days to deal with their dead. After that the person ceased to exist, even in memory… or that was how it was supposed to be. Charlie still thought of his grandparents quite often… but even they wouldn’t have approved. Different parts of the reservation maintain different ideas about this taboo, and more and more people were getting over the idea that dead people’s chindi can be called back just by mentioning their names or even just thinking of them. Coming back might mean bringing some wickedness with them––even to their own kinsmen.
Thomas remained silent and tried not to think of his own dead mother, or even his first wife Sally, whose chindi, he was afraid, might be waiting for them at their old camp on the San Juan. He and his second wife, Alice, had lived in that camp too, after Sally died, and he hadn’t seen any sign of her then… still one never knew… And he didn’t even want to think about her brother Freddy Chee, whose bad spirit might still be roaming around up there as well… maybe trapped in the old hogan, where he had died a wretched but, in his opinion, well deserved death. Death and dying are complicated subjects for many Navajo––and even more confusing for any white people who might try to understand their thinking.
Thomas’s uncle told him that, in ancient times, there was a grace period (sometimes four days) in which someone, often a stranger, might be enticed to do a burial for a person who had died away from camp, say on a war party or hunting expedition. But should that person die at home inside the hogan, that dwelling would be abandoned and sometimes the entire camp as well, should it be thought the person’s chindi was still hanging around. In that case the body might be left where it lay and the door walled up with stones.
In later times the white traders to the Navajo were often called upon to help with this onerous chore. A trader might become so endeared to the people by this service that even a less-than-honest trader might be tolerated for just such a reason. Often a family with a sick or injured relative would move, temporarily, close to the trading post, under the pretense of doing business. The real reason being the fear they might eventually have to deal with their dead relative on their own.
11
The Shaman
Edward Bitsinnii slipped effortlessly into that hidden state that often came when his real world proved untenable. There are people who might acquire the ability, usually through years of training and study, but few come by it as naturally and unbidden as the Indian.
He seemed to float above his mortal self without conscious pain or other physical awareness and observed his earthly body in a manner so detached he became amused at the fate of his worldly self. There had been a time in his youth when he could attain this sense of grace pretty much as he pleased, and this allowed him to bear those little punishments and ridicule meted out by those who already saw the evil in him. It had been a handy thing to know in those times.
Just when I was finally getting some payback for all those injustices and unfair treatment… I have been brought to this, he thought in a calm and rational manner and with very little real regret. Still and all, this seemed no fitting end for a Shaman of his skills and he wondered what still might be done about it––if indeed there was anything at all left to be done about it.
His physical body writhed below him, pulled at the birthing post, and groaned. Edward looked on without emotion and idly pondered the possibilities, should his niece not return. He saw no way out should that happen. There was only so much even a Shaman could do.
If only those foolish people who thought him a Yeenaaldiooshii could see him now––how happy they would be, and how they would gloat over his misfortune. His brother Paul would be chief among them, he supposed; it was he who had fought him tooth and nail. If his niece did return and took a notion to kill him, there was little he could do about that either. Yes, if that is in her mind, everyone’s fate will be sealed. No power he knew could remedy it.
He looked down and noticed he had managed to work his way far enough up the post to reach the twisted and knotted belt that held him. He was using his teeth to gnaw away at it, like a coyote caught in a steel trap. There was a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, and he suspected a tooth had splintered on the buckle. That must have hurt.
A government trapper had once told him that in the old days a quarter of his catch had escaped that way, gnawing off a foot in preference to a more certain fate. Edward himself had several times seen the tracks of a three-legged coyote and knew the reason. This was turning into a nasty business, and for the first time he was given over to the thought it could only end badly.
The far-off sound of an automobile drifted through Edward’s senses, and he knew instantly whose car it must be, and that caused the pitiful thing at the post to struggle even more and chew harder at the bindings. Edward could only smile at so pointless an effort.
~~~~~~
When Alice Harney had come storming up the road to the family hogan that morning, Paul T’Sosi stood transfixed, amazed at her return… To what purpose, he wondered? He doubted his granddaughter had a single benevolent thought for any of them now, at least not from what her mother had told him of her last visit. The girl had been filled with mistrust, Lucy had said, and possibly even had thoughts of revenge. Was this the reason for her return… to get back at Thomas? Perhaps she meant to get back at all of them. He grew cautious and silently waited, offered no welcoming wave or other sign of greeting as the vehicle drew closer.
When the car did ease to a stop, Alice rolled down the window, and Paul T’Sosi could see tears streaming down her face. His granddaughter smiled up at him, and this so tugged at the old man’s heart that he softened toward her, though he had seen it all before. Still, he remained cautious and thought, Didn’t she leave me there alone at that medical building… was that any way to act toward her own grandfather? They remained looking at one another without speaking.
When finally Alice did break the silence it was to ask her grandfather to come with her. She had something he should see, she said. Paul didn’t ask what it might be or make any comment at all, only waited and watched. She, too, became silent, imploring the old singer with tearful eyes. Paul at last simply got in the car and sat there, still not looking at her… staring into the breaking dawn. It no longer mattered to him… what had gone on before. This was between the two of them, he and his granddaughter, and he knew now this was the right thing to do.
Only when they turned onto the highway did Alice turn slightly and say. “I think, grandfather, that I may have something you’ve been looking for.”
Alice spoke softly to the old man, saying she may have found a solution to the problem that weighed so heavily on him. She told him where she had been and exactly what she had done, even telling him where his brother, the Witch of Ganado, was at that very moment.
Paul listened, but could hardly believe any of it possible, especially in light of the girl’s obviously weakened condition. She had grown noticeably worse, even in the short time since he last saw her. Her lips trembled when she spoke, and even keeping the car on the road seemed to take a great effort. Clearly her physical abilities had deteriorated, and he could only imagine her mental state must be equally fragile.
“You say you have Edward Bitsinnii tied up and hidden away?” Paul thought it impossible, but there was no doubt the girl was serious in the telling of it… Should it be true, he might at last have the chance of dealing with his brother in person and in his own way.
“He’s there all right,” she assured him when she saw the doubt in his eyes. “In an old hogan under the bluffs along the river.” She frowned. “It’s that old camp where Thomas’s first wife and her people lived… his children’s mother. Sally Buck, I believe her name was… it’s been so long now… I’m not sure anymore.” Alice rubbed that tiny spot just above her eyes with a middle finger. That’s where it hurt most. She shook her head and whispered, “It’s that place Thomas and I first stayed when we took up together. Of course I didn’t know about any of that other stuff at the time. We were both drinking a lot then––it didn’t matter where we lived.”
“Yes,” Paul said, “her name was Sally. I never knew her, but her children talk about her from time to time.” Paul didn’t like to think of Thomas’s first wife, and what became of her.
Alice kept her eyes on the road and said, “I didn’t know anywhere else to take that…uh… witch, as you call him. Anyways, that is where he is, and I think he will still be there. And if he’s not… maybe he really is a witch.” She smiled at this and her grandfather could see she didn’t believe his brother was a witch at all, or even that there were such things. She was more worried about what he and the rest of the family believed and how that could affect their lives. She was doing this for them.
The way back into the camp wasn’t much more than a trail, and a rough one at that. It took a while for the old car to lurch and pitch itself across the eroded ditches and sudden humps in the road. Paul T’Sosi thought his insides might shake loose, and couldn’t imagine how his granddaughter must be suffering. It was obvious Alice was determined not to give way to her growing weakness.
Magpie Speaks Page 14