The Collector

by R. Allen Chappell

  Following the tracks out to the point, it was plain the person had stood there beside the cedar for some time, fidgeting, studying the camp. Paul spotted a piece of chewing gum, still glistening with moisture, and stuck near the woodpecker hole in the trunk. That hole had been there as long as he could remember and was now rotted down deep inside the tree. Again, the old man searched about and listened, but could hear nothing over the tinkle of bells and snuffling of sheep. Even more cautious now he followed the tracks back to the south edge of the point and saw where the man had skidded his way down past the first ledge. In a hurry, he thought. Paul nodded to himself. He must have heard the sheep coming. Obviously, this was someone who had no business here.

  Paul moved further along the edge to a place offering a better view. Down where the scrub oak began, he caught just a flash of a person disappearing into the brushy draw that led to the highway. As he had surmised from the track, it was a man, and from the quick look he’d had, apparently white. The person was moving fast considering the condition of the trail. That surprised him. Paul T’Sosi stayed there watching for some time. After another twenty minutes, and seeing nothing more of the person, the old man eventually made his way back to the point where he leaned against the tree and contemplated the camp before returning to the sheep. He stopped for a moment to consider his options: trying to make up his mind if he should let the animals feed or start for home without wasting any more time.

  Thinking was more difficult for the old Singer these days, and in the end, he let the flock eat a while longer and only after sorting things out in his mind, did he come to the realization he would have to tell Thomas Begay everything…and soon, too. There wasn’t much time. He looked up to the sky, judged the wind, and then signaled the dog to start the sheep off the ridge toward home.

  The dog, unsure what to make of all this, nonetheless, followed Paul’s command and started its gather. The dog knew the sheep had just begun filling their bellies and it wasn’t easy convincing them to leave such easy pickings—they were still hungry—greedy for more of the fresh young grass.

  ~~~~~~

  On his way back down the ridge Archie paused once or twice to check his back trail. His view was limited from this angle, but he saw no sign of anyone and could only assume he hadn’t been seen. Still, every now and again he had that irksome feeling he wasn’t alone. Archie had no way of knowing he had been watched from the time he drove up.

  Almost to the bottom now he stopped in the shade and rested as he pulled out a small notebook to fill in a few details of the camp: things he didn’t trust to memory. Then with a last swipe of his pen, and a tired sigh, rose to check his surroundings, and make certain he was undiscovered. He could see his Chevy truck from here, and after watching a short while became satisfied everything was as he left it. There was very little traffic that time of day and he took his time approaching the Chevy. No one in sight and no tracks near the vehicle. As he pulled back up on the highway, he couldn’t help being satisfied with his morning’s work.

  ~~~~~~

  After a long hot shower and short nap, Archie dressed in his last clean shirt and jeans and went to inquire about a good place to eat…and maybe a well-deserved cocktail to boot. A gin and tonic would be good, should they stock his brand…not everyone did out here this wasn’t New York, after all.

  The desk clerk looked him over and recommended the new restaurant in town, “Italian,” he said. “It’s getting rave reviews, and if you are quick about it, you might beat the crowd.” He grinned. “That’s one thing about Farmington, she’ll give a new eatery a fair chance.”

  14

  Zuppa di Mare

  Thomas Begay had done his best to steer his wife away from her obvious determination to rely on Carla Meyor for marketing advice. But given Lucy’s stubborn streak and fascination with the more worldly woman he had to be careful how he expressed this.

  “Well, you know,” Lucy said, “Carla has worked with some of the biggest galleries in the country and she knows a lot of important people. I’m pretty sure she could put me in touch with qualified buyers.”

  Thomas turned away as he rolled his eyes. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that a couple of times now. I don’t doubt she knows her stuff; I’m just wondering where her best interest lies—you or the FBI?”

  Lucy bit her lower lip rather than answer. Why Thomas and her father had this distrust of Carla was beyond her. Neither knows anything about the woman—other than her interest in both me and my mother’s work. How could that be a bad thing? I’m calling her and that’s that. The recent happenings had left Lucy thinking she had, for too long she decided, allowed others to do her thinking for her.

  Later that day Lucy called Carla at her office, told her what was on her mind and asked if she would be agreeable to a short meeting in Farmington that afternoon. “Maybe right after work?” she said, “An early dinner if you would be up for that?”

  “I’ll be ready—it’s been a tough day.” Carla was intrigued and somehow pleased Lucy had thought of her. The FBI woman said she knew of a new Italian restaurant just off the main drag. She’d heard good things about it and had been meaning to give it a try.

  Lucy Tallwoman was in a very different mood as she went to her closet for the new outfit. It was the one she’d been holding back for a special occasion. Her friend Sue had helped pick it out and it was what Sue might have chosen for herself. While not at all the type of thing she ordinarily wore it was, as Sue had mentioned, the sort of thing Lucy should be wearing if she meant to mingle with agents or buyers.

  When she came through the living room Paul T’Sosi was in his recliner—the television blasting a Western. His eyebrows arched in surprise as he canted his head to one side and regarded her for a moment, then nodded and smiled.

  “That’s your mother’s Concho belt, isn’t it? New clothes, too, huh?”

  “I got these to wear to your doctor appointment in Albuquerque next month…can’t have those people down there thinking we’re a bunch of reservation hillbillies.” She turned awkwardly to show off the long denim skirt and white blouse with dark blue piping. New western boots peeked from the hem of the skirt and her mother’s best belt—small silver Conchos set with Morenci turquoise added a stylish Southwestern flair. “Like it?”

  Her father was used to seeing her in more traditional dress but was quick to agree it suited her, and made it plain he meant it, too.

  ~~~~~~

  Carla Meyor looked up from a menu to see Lucy Tallwoman glancing through the side glass before opening the restaurant door. Lucy immediately spotted Carla and headed back to the table, obviously impressed. By Farmington standards the restaurant would be considered quite elegant. Carla remembered when the supper club at the airport was the epitome of classy dining for the oilfield town. She was fairly certain Lucy had never been in that place, or on an airplane.

  Carla was already nodding approval as Lucy approached the table, “Looking good!” She eyed Lucy Tallwoman up and down then grinned. “Wow, right uptown. It suits you, Lady...”

  Lucy, pleased, grinned back and pulled out a chair. “Do you really think so? Sue Yazzie helped me with it—she’s better at this sort of thing. She used to work in an office you know.”

  Carla raised an eyebrow. “She chose well. I’m impressed.”

  The waiter was there in an instant, filling water glasses as he announced the specials.

  Lucy waited for Carla to order, and then putting her own menu down, said, “That sounds good to me, too. I’ll have the same thing.” She noticed the glass of wine by Carla’s plate, and with a sweep of her hand, avowed, “I’ll have whatever she’s drinking.” She’d watched enough television to know the basics but was without the slightest practical experience to back it up.

  Carla nodded at the waiter. “A Pinot Grigio for my friend, as well.” Obviously, Lucy Tallwoman had turned a leaf.

  The two women went on to discuss the problem of Lucy regaining her lost marketing niche and how Carl
a might be able to help with that.

  The FBI Agent smiled, and assured Lucy. “You will be amazed at how easy this might prove to be. You are who you always were. Nothing’s changed. It’s just a matter of letting the right people know where you are and that you are handling your own marketing now.” Their food came and after a few minutes Carla asked Lucy how she liked it.

  “It’s good. I’m surprised I guess. The only Italian I’ve ever eaten was the spaghetti they used to serve once a week at the Episcopal boarding school. They did their best but I don’t have many good memories of that place, and their spaghetti was sure not one of them. This is good…whatever it is?”

  “Episcopal boarding school, huh. I was raised Episcopal myself. That must have been interesting?”

  “It had its moments, I suppose.” The two women considered one another for a moment longer without speaking.

  “This is Eggplant Parmesan,” Carla smiled. “It’s always been a favorite of mine from the time I was a kid. It was my father’s favorite, too. I make this a lot when I’m home.”

  “So, your father worked at the BIA dorms in Aztec when you were young? I think I might have mentioned… Thomas and our friends the Yazzies all went to school there…not really their choice, but that’s how it was back in the day. Thomas has often mentioned that the white kids thought it was a great place to go to school, but then of course, they got to go home at night, didn’t they?”

  Carla lifted an eyebrow. “Like you said, it was what it was. Those were different times back then…I would be first to agree that doesn’t make it right.”

  “No, that doesn’t make it right, and I’m not sure what could make it right even now.”

  Carla changed the subject. “What about that Harley Ponyboy? He’s an amusing little guy—I couldn’t help noticing him the other night at the party. Did he go to school with the others?”

  “Harley wasn’t from around here back then; he only went to school when they could catch him…which wasn’t often. He’s from up around Monument Valley. It was another world up there at the time he was growing up. He came from old-school traditional people—they would hide him out when the government agents came around. When he was older, he moved down here to find work and then became friends with Thomas. They were both drinkers for a while but not now, not Thomas anyway. Harley’s still off and on, though he hasn’t gone to the bottle in a long time.”

  Carla rearranged the food on her plate, took another bite, reflected back on a time she seldom had reason to think of. “My father worked at several different BIA affiliated schools over the years. But I mainly grew up in Durango.”

  Lucy Tallwoman was not sure what caused this to register. In an instant it had disappeared, as though filtered out or blocked, and she thought no more about it. “So, you aren’t married, Carla? No children?” She blushed, “I mean, I know not everyone is married, at least not out in the real world.”

  The woman smiled at this. “No, I have no children …never married.” She touched her cheek. “I’m not sure which of us is living in the real world.” She tilted her head to one side as she said, “I understand Caleb and Ida Marie are Thomas’s children from another marriage? No children of your own?”

  Lucy looked down at her plate, then up. “I had a daughter, her name was Alice, but she is no longer with us.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry…I’ve often thought if things were different…I might have wanted a daughter myself.”

  “Well, it’s not like you don’t have time yet.” Lucy was smiling when she said this but there was a touch of sadness in it, too.

  “Oh, I doubt that’s going to happen now. I’m a ‘career agent’, as they say in the Bureau. I suppose I’ll always be one. Working for the FBI isn’t really conducive to leading any sort of normal life. There are those who seem able to manage it, of course, but that’s not me.”

  Lucy Tallwoman, not certain now where the conversation was headed, changed the subject. “I’d like to get your recipe for this eggplant dish some time. My bunch aren’t open to many new foods, but I think Thomas and my dad might like this. The kids…well, I’m not really sure.” She was thinking, Jesus, I guess I really don’t get out much these days... She seldom even left the reservation unless Sue Yazzie invited her on some contrived mission—shopping usually, or a quick trip to Farmington for lunch. Lucy brought her thoughts back to the conversation…trying to concentrate on what Carla was saying…something about a New York gallery opening the next week.

  15

  Fate

  Archie found the side street, and after spotting the restaurant, did a double take at the pickup parked out front. He was halfway down the block before admitting to himself he may have just seen Lucy Tallwoman’s truck. The late model Ford parked in front of the eatery was a dead ringer for the one he’d seen earlier that morning down below in the camp. But only as he shot a glance in his rearview mirror did he become absolutely certain. There was the skewed and weathered sticker on the front bumper: “You’re in Indian Country.” Earlier that morning he’d been unable to read the smaller print, now he whispered it to himself, “KTNN voice of the Navajo Nation.”

  He parked the Chevy well down the street. What are the odds…? He slid his pickup into an empty space and took a moment to study on it, then smiled. No reason not to have a look, Archie…no one knows you around here. Still smiling as he entered the restaurant, he immediately spotted Lucy Tallwoman at a front table, riveted to what the woman across from her was saying.

  Approached by the hostess Archie pointed to one of the small tables toward the rear.

  As the man passed their table, Lucy Tallwoman, caught up in the conversation, seemed not to notice. Carla, however, managed a covert glance. She was trained to be aware and without missing a beat, thought, So this is the infamous Archie Blumker…I thought he’d be taller…otherwise; he looks exactly like his file photos.

  Archie, choosing a chair facing toward the front, accepted the menu but barely glanced at it before asking a question. He then immediately gave the hostess his order without waiting for the server—passing the menu back to the woman without looking up. She frowned, scribbled something down and handed it to the first passing waiter. Surprised, he immediately turned back to the kitchen and then returned with a large tureen of something, which he delivered to the table before taking the man’s drink order. Raising his eyebrows at the hostess, the server then crossed to the bar and in only moments returned to the table with an icy mixed drink …tall and clear…with a twist. It was the best the house had to offer.

  Lucy Tallwoman, facing toward the rear of the dining room, inadvertently glanced the new diner’s way a time or two and once caught him watching her. He held her gaze a moment then looking down at his dinner, devoted his attention to the Zuppa di Mare and didn’t look her way again.

  No more than a casual curiosity, Lucy was sure.

  As the two women chatted back and forth, laughing now and again at some little something, Carla took out her compact and checked her makeup as she talked. After only a moment she asked, “Is the man at the back table someone you know?” She pretended to dab at her nose as she studied the diner in the mirror.

  “No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him. I noticed him looking this way and figured he’s just curious…you don’t see many Navajos in restaurants like this…not around here you don’t.” Lucy chanced another quick look at the man and was certain he wasn’t anyone she knew. He seemed absorbed in his dinner now—not interested in anything else.

  “I remember this sort of thing growing up in Durango. People there consider themselves liberals nowadays, recent arrivals most of them, but back then you saw it all the time. I understand what you’re saying, but things are changing. It won’t always be like this.” Her voice took on a pensive note. “You are the sort of person who might hurry those changes along should you take an interest.”

  Lucy contemplated the woman sitting across from her. How are we so different, you and I? I can’t even ima
gine what you are talking about?

  Carla held Lucy’s gaze as though channeling her thoughts; leaning forward she held up a finger. “In many ways we are the same, you and I. It is only circumstance that has set us on different paths. Circumstances change. I’m thinking you could have a bigger voice in your people’s affairs than you might think—this could be just the beginning for you.”

  16

  The Surprise

  Back in his room Archie immediately noticed the flashing red message light on the phone. He took his time mixing a drink and turned the television to the local news, muting the sound as he took a long sip. Kicking off his shoes he stacked the pillows and leaned back to follow the silent screen. Occasionally he would turn an eye to the blinking light but remained stubbornly determined to finish his drink before looking into it. It had been in the back of his mind he might hear from Percy tonight. Other than leaving a contact number, he hadn’t reported in for several days. That would not ordinarily have been a concern but the Factor had seemed anxious about this operation from the very beginning. This had the ever-suspicious former cop thinking there might be more to this particular project than he was told.

  Archie savored the icy beverage a few minutes longer then reached for the phone with a sigh. But before he could pick it up there came a knock at the door. He slipped the automatic pistol from the nightstand and tucked it into the back of his waistband. Draining the last of his drink, he eased over to the door on stocking feet to peer through the peephole. There was no one to be seen. The security chain went up and the door cracked for a better view. Whoever was out there had been well tutored.