When they arrived on the outskirts of the camp Alice urged the old car through the thin line of brush that hid the ruins of two older dwellings. Paul saw then this might be the camp he had once heard about from Thomas and Charlie. Paul had never been clear exactly what had taken place back then, and he was uncertain if this was even the place. He knew only that people had died––and one of them had been a witch, a Navajo Wolf named Freddy Chee… who had brought it upon himself, as witches tend to do. Evil, he thought, has a way of becoming its own reward.
At the only hogan left, that could still be called a hogan, Alice stopped the car, brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, and frowned at the wooden door standing ajar. She had been very careful to shut that door when she left, and now here it was open. She scowled as she pulled the pistol from her coat pocket and looked over at her grandfather. Paul imagined her as one paused at the edge of a great precipice… contemplating the final leap.
Alice wondered if her careful plans had somehow gone awry? Had the gut-wrenching effort of bringing Edward Bitsinnii to this place been for nothing? The emotional surge that accompanied these thoughts now seemed to bolster her resolve and she turned again to study the hogan, smiled to herself and nodded. Her face softened as she looked back to her grandfather for a last time, patted his hand, and for just an instant the old man thought he caught a glimpse of the child he once knew.
“You stay here, Shecheii… this won’t take long.” Alice fingered a fresh clip from her pocket, stared at it a moment before slipping it into the pistol. “I’ll just check on him before you go in.” When she opened the car door, she clicked off the safety and stood for a moment, uncertain she had the strength for this next part. The pain in her head had left her off-balance, but less than previously, and she thought this a good sign. She hesitated only a moment, gathering herself, and calling upon the last of her strength to take her through the gaping door.
11
Salvation
Charlie Yazzie had no reason to think they were on anything other than a “wild goose chase,” as Harley Ponyboy often called something with little chance of success. Like Charlie, Harley thought it a waste of time to go to the old camp under the bluffs. The place held bad spirits… everyone knew that. But Thomas seemed convinced Alice might have gone there and taken the old man with her… but for what reason none of them could yet imagine.
One thing was now certain in all of their minds––Alice was a danger, not only to herself but to anyone who might cross her path. It was becoming more and more clear that it was Alice that had rescued Edward Bitsinnii from his mother’s trailer… she might well have killed his cousins as well. Now, Edward Bitsinnii was the wild card, and should he have survived the incident at his mother’s trailer only to join forces with his niece, there might be consequences beyond what anyone reckoned.
Twice Thomas thought he saw a glint of light through the trees ahead, possibly off a mirror or chrome bumper. They didn’t need Harley’s expertise to tell them they were not far behind another vehicle. Even Charlie could see where a car had recently gone in and out a time or two. It was plain Thomas might be right; they might soon be up against a situation none of them were prepared to handle. Charlie shifted into low gear, slowed the truck to a crawl, giving it only enough gas to keep it from stalling.
Thomas shot him a questioning glance before saying, “I don’t think this is the time to try and ease up on anyone. Once we come around the edge of those trees up there, we’ll be in plain sight of the lower camps, should anyone happen to look this way. Either we blast on up there and surprise them, or we stop here and go through the brush… try to sneak up on foot.”
Harley nodded at this. “Makes sense ta me. I don’ see no need in rushing in on a witch that can see us coming.” He paused to think. “Course… I doubt a person can sneak up on a witch anyway.” Harley was having second thoughts about dealing with a witch in any fashion.”
Thomas made it a point not to look at Charlie when he agreed. “Me neither. I think we should study on this a little before we go rushing into something we don’t have a clue about. We don’t know who all’s up there or what they’re up to.”
Charlie pulled the truck to a halt between two fence posts that had once supported a gate, turned off the engine, closed his eyes, and laid his head back against the seat. “Okay, what exactly do you two grown men suggest we do––sit here until whoever’s up there decides to drive back out… or until some witch flies by us like a bat?”
Harley and Thomas thought waiting might indeed be the thing to do, then noticed the look on Charlie Yazzie’s face, and decided he hadn’t meant the comment as an actual course of action.
“Well,” Thomas ventured, “I suppose we could leave the truck here to block the road, then come in on the camp from three different directions, on foot. That way, no one’s likely to get past us.”
Harley liked the idea and said so, adding, “Charlie’s got the only gun––maybe he could come in from the front and take out anyone that needs it. Me and you,” he said, looking at Thomas, “Can be off in the brush a little ways to keep any stragglers from getting away.”
Charlie rested his elbows on the steering wheel and covered his face with both hands. “How about I just go up there by myself and you two geniuses stay here in the truck and guard the exit?” Before the two could answer in the affirmative, he went on, “You want me to go up there… and take out… who? Alice? Edward Bitsinnii? Old Man Paul T’Sosi?
Thomas considered all these options rather carefully before saying, “Since Alice is a shooter and has a gun, according to Lucy, you might want to tend to her first. From the FBI report you told us about, I’m thinking she’s the one who killed the two brothers up at the Bitsinnii place. She’s apparently a dead shot and not too damn particular who she shoots either. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have any problem shooting me. She’s on the run and knows it doesn’t matter what she does now. Me and Harley can deal with Edward Bitsinnii… if he’s even up there.”
Charlie took the keys out of the ignition, shook his head at the pair, and opened his door to get out. He then turned, still half in the seat. “I’m going on up there. You two do what you think best.” With that, the Legal Services Investigator hitched up his pants, making sure his badge was prominently displayed, and walked off up the road to the camp.
Charlie’s friends remained staring at one another for some time before Thomas opened his door and the two reluctantly made off toward the brush, each in a different direction. Neither of the two men had much hope of Charlie actually shooting anyone. Charlie was more of a thinker than a doer when it came to shooting. Thomas doubted Alice would give him a chance to think this one over.
~~~~~~
Charlie had gone only a hundred yards or so before angling off the road. The .38 Smith & Wesson was in his right hand, ready, and he took a certain comfort from it, though some thought him a poor shot at best. His friend Thomas often cited a lack of target practice as a causative factor, but then would defend him by adding, “Charlie Yazzie doesn’t believe in shooting people if he can help it.”
The investigator stood catching his breath in a shaft of sunlight, and lingered a moment in its illusory warmth before forging ahead. The trees had already shed the greater part of their foliage, most in only the last day or so. The recent winds had left the ground covered with layers and drifts of golden leaves and brittle twigs. Charlie initially endeavored to be as quiet as possible and tried to pick his way through the worst of it. Eventually, however, he concluded it was impossible and waded brazenly ahead, paying little heed to the noise of his passing. He knew he was getting close to the lower camp and would proceed with more caution from there to the upper camps. When he stopped again, he took advantage of the ensuing silence and listened but heard nothing. There was no discernable breeze and the cottonwoods seemed determined to keep their secrets. It occurred to Charlie he was fast running out of cover and would soon have to make a decision. He recalled what the l
ate Lieutenant Samuel Shorthair once told him. “In this business, you are only as good as your next move.” He had no more than thought this when the decision was made for him.
The smooth river stone caught him just above the hairline at the back of his head, and he went down with a warm sticky stream working its way inside his collar. Oblivion was slow in coming; conscious thought swirled in and out, leaving him just on the cusp of a black vortex that threatened but did not totally consume. At one point he thought someone or something was standing over him… he may have only sensed it… or perhaps there was no one there at all. When he felt the gun being taken from his hand, he knew better, and tried his best not to breathe. Then there was only darkness.
~~~~~~
Thomas circled high and came out under the bluffs just above the camp, crawled out to an edge shielded by a ragged fringe of oak brush, and considered himself hidden. The late afternoon sun reflected off the sandstone bluff, and he thought it pleasant, almost too warm. He could see the river quite clearly, and the ragged little islands of ice, nearly turquoise, against the deeper blue of the water. Below, Alice’s car was parked almost in front of the hogan and only feet from the door. The brown sedan was exactly as Lucy Tallwoman described it. He saw no one, though admittedly, he was too far above the car to see inside. The east-facing door of the hogan stood partially open, as did the driver’s door. There was no way to tell if someone might be in the hogan, or even in the car, for that matter. A quick scan of the area turned up nothing, and he was surprised there was no sign of Charlie, or Harley either, but then he had figured Harley would be the better concealed and was less concerned for him. One would have thought Charlie, at least, would be in sight from this vantage. He was not at all good at stealth or concealment in Thomas’s opinion. Still, the brush was heavy in the cottonwoods, and such a person might accidently lose himself there.
Thomas was sure Harley was somewhere on the perimeter, probably waiting for some sign from Charlie before making his move on the camp. If ever there were a time he wished for binoculars, it was now. There had been a pair in Charlie’s truck, in the glove box, where he kept his .38, but no one had thought to bring them. Thankfully Charlie had remembered to put the revolver in his coat pocket when he left home that morning. Too bad about the binoculars; they would have been a great help.
~~~~~~
Harley Ponyboy watched Thomas move along the face of the bluff and only lost sight of him when he dropped to all fours and inched his way out above the camp. Harley himself had come in low, under the banks of the San Juan. He was now well hidden at the root of a fallen cottonwood. The uprooted base of the tree had left quite a hollow, and Harley snuggled into a nest of leaves and became nearly invisible for all but the most careful observer. He thought the giant tree hadn’t been down long, probably blown over in the windstorm of the previous week, maybe the same one that took the Yazzie’s horse shed. The raw earth was still loose and dry under the leaves, and Harley thought it made a secure refuge when there might be witches about.
He once thought he heard a commotion not far off to his right, but after listening a bit figured his ears had played tricks on him… or it was Charlie. The man was known to move poorly in the brush, and he thought this the most likely reason. Even so, he kept a wary eye in that direction, as well as toward the camp. The hogan itself was outside Harley’s line of vision, unless he stood, which he considered unwise. He would have to crawl along the trunk of the tree and as far as the branches before he would feel protected enough to raise himself up and have a look around. He glanced occasionally at the rocky point above the camp. He was certain Thomas was still there, though he could now see no sign of him. Probably Thomas can already see me from up there. He will eventually make some sign… let me know… Harley assumed Thomas was only waiting for Charlie.
~~~~~~
Edward Bitsinnii felt quite proud of himself for gnawing through the leather belt… and just in the nick of time too. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, and his spirit hesitated before rejoining his exhausted body. As he had suspected, one of his wolf teeth, or eyeteeth as some call them, was split and well into the bone if the caliber of pain was any indicator; it was fierce and unrelenting. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth and he spit and wiped it away with the back of his hand––it was little enough to pay.
He had been right in thinking Alice would come back; at least he gave himself credit for that thought. Now as he watched from the brush beyond the hogan he saw her get out of the car. She seemed unsteady but had a tight grip on her deadly automatic pistol––the one she used to shoot his cousins in so casual, yet lethal a fashion. She hadn’t seemed steady that day either. No, it wouldn’t do to tangle with his niece just yet, but she, too, was on his list now and would fare no better than the others when the reckoning came.
Edward was more alert in the fresh air and his new freedom brought better faith in his prospects. He was again back at himself… and of himself, and the fires of revenge again smoldered inside him. As he stayed watching, those embers fanned to flame at the notice of Alice’s passenger. He first only felt the presence of his brother, but when Paul moved Edward caught a glimpse and knew for certain. While his brother was older and surely some weaker by now, he had been strong and fearless when younger, and not without his powers.
Edward remembered these things and grew cautious… thought perhaps he should first get away from these people, and later deal with them individually, and on his own terms. He had time, and soon would have a great deal of money as well. Just the two things one needed, he thought, should one have revenge in mind. Time and money, not many men were so lucky, and he smiled at the thought of such good fortune.
Edward Bitsinnii turned away from the camp and quietly made his retreat through the tall sagebrush, but after only a short distance, paused to take his bearings. Not far off he saw a man standing in the open apparently unconcerned he might be discovered. The person stood, looking away toward the bluffs, as though watching for something. He seemed deep in thought, undecided, perhaps considering his own next move.
Edward studied the man and his eyes lit up at the sight of the revolver held just high enough to clear the brush. Now, there might be just the equalizer to turn things around. He was not unfamiliar with handguns and he watched intently to see what the man might do next. When it became clear the man was heading toward the upper camp, Edward kept to the brush and maintained a discreet distance. He soon became satisfied the man’s carelessness would cover his approach and was slowly gaining ground, when he happened to look down and notice a stone peeking from a little mound of dirt. He scooped it up without stopping and hefted it a couple of times to judge the weight and feel of it… calculate its ballistics so to speak. It was the size of a hen’s egg and fit perfectly to his hand.
Edward had been an expert rock flinger when young and seldom had he chanced on a more perfect projectile. As he eased along behind it became clear the man was out of his element and it occurred to Edward that, this person might be better suited behind a store counter or teaching school in a town somewhere… anywhere but the wilds of the Diné Bikeyah. He drew closer to the target and didn’t hesitate or bother to give his technique any special consideration, just drew back, and let fly one of mankind’s oldest weapons.
When he knelt at the side of the prone figure––the revolver now safely in hand––he was uncertain what to do. The man had gone down without a sound and now lay half on his side. Edward could see the badge on his belt, and felt a sudden pang of uncertainty that he might have made a mistake. Must be some kind of law, he thought and sighed, chewed his lip and looked to the setting sun. It had been his observation over the years that physical violence against a law officer was taken more seriously than the same act against a ordinary person. It shouldn’t be that way, in his view, but there it was.
There was nothing for it now, however. He doubted this law was out here alone. Shooting would certainly bring others down on him. Finishing him wi
th a rock or a club might be a mistake too, should his escape not go well. Then too, there was still the possibility the man might die anyway, or already be dead, for that matter, in which case all this worry and thinking would only be a waste of time. Perhaps it would be better to just leave it to fate and get on with his business. And that is what he did.
12
Redemption
Paul T’Sosi did not wait long wondering what had become of his granddaughter. His window was down and poor though his hearing might be, he thought surely he would have heard any shots coming from the open door. He was beginning to think Alice had found no one at all inside, and was only resting there, exhausted. Edward Bitsinnii, if he were not a total figment of her imagination, might already be dead, in which case, the old man reasoned, the witch’s chindi might have fallen upon her and caused his granddaughter some mischief. There could be no other explanation for her being so long inside. This was Paul’s concern as he got out of the car and stood looking about in the failing afternoon light.
His legs were stiff from sitting so long, and he could barely hobble his way to the open door. Just before entering, he ran a quick eye around the camp, then to the bluffs beyond, and was surprised to see a man rise from the rocks and wave. He knew instantly it was Thomas and wondered for a moment what he could be doing there. He gave a half-hearted salute in return before turning once again to the darkened hogan.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, or lack of it, Paul saw Alice crumpled on the floor, breathing heavily, but not wounded or hurt in any way that he could see. There was no one else in the abandoned dwelling, and the old singer detected no aura of anything supernatural either. When he knelt at his granddaughter’s side, he took her hand, cold and limp, in his. He was afraid her illness had caught up with her and gathered the blanket lying nearby, folded it beneath her head, then thought of Thomas up on the bluff and moved to the open door to call for help. But before he could go farther, a hand caught him by the throat, and he was pushed back inside. Edward Bitsinnii was a powerful man and flung his brother backward, causing him to fall beside his stricken granddaughter, where the old man then tried to shield her from the threat of the witch.
Magpie Speaks Page 15