The Reading Garden - Mystery2
Important notice: All excerpts have been submitted by the author
Authors: Aimee and David Thurlo
Ella tried to hide her emotions, walking over to the window and looking outside so her mother wouldn't see her face. Heat shimmered in waves over the sand, rocks, and sage that stretched out to the late afternoon horizon. Her mom's old mutt was lying by the side of the house fast asleep, oblivious to the chaos those around him were experiencing.
"I can't believe that anyone would have made such a vile, stupid accusation about my brother. Who's responsible for starting that gossip, do you know?"
"We tried to find out, but it turned out to be impossible to trace," Rose answered.
"Clifford's a hataalii. He's supposed to be our tribe's best defence against witches."
"Is - not `supposed to be'," Rose countered sternly. "That accusation was meant to undermine him. They started that story after the loss of his child, when he was the most vulnerable!" Anger swept through Rose like a flash flood in a narrow arroyo, and she took several deep breaths.
"A good tactic on their part," Ella admitted. "Who had the most to gain by undermining him?"
"These skinwalkers have covered themselves well. I can't even take a guess. I just don't know." Rose covered her face with one hand. "Clifford is a strong man. He kept his hurt inside him, but the baby's death almost finished Loretta. She'd lost her son, then began to hear that her husband had caused the tragedy." Overwhelmed by emotion, Rose paused, clasping her hands together tightly.
"Is that why Clifford is hiding? Have others become so afraid of him that they are threatening his life?" Ella started sorting through possible motives if that was the case.
Rose shook her head. "Your brother is afraid of no man. He has many friends and followers. They believe him. He knows that too."
Ella came away from the window and joined her mother again on the sofa. "Then something else must have frightened him." She lapsed into a thoughtful silence. "Could it be somehow linked to the death of his child?"
"Possibly, but that's one connection you may never be able to see."
"Why not?"
"You never paid attention to what I taught you of our people's beliefs, so even if it stares you in the face, you may not know, or believe enough to realize it."
"You'd be surprised how much I remember. I may not believe in it like Clifford and you, but what counts is knowing the way he thinks, and what actions he'll take because of it."
"Spoken like a bilag ana." Her mother smiled, her eyes eagle sharp as they rested on Ella. "Daughter, you may be fooling others, but not me. You're afraid of exactly the same things Clifford is: evils that resist coming under control. In the world you've chosen to live in, those evils are easily defined. Here, that's not always so. But in your own ways, both you and your brother are committed to restoring harmony. And neither of you would ever betray the trust others place in you to do that. You have more in common with your brother than you think."
Ella bit back her response, but denied the accusation hotly in her mind. Her brother certainly had abilities, some would say gifts. He would walk into a room, and instantly become the center of attention. Like a master politician and magician rolled into one, he could become anything he wanted to the people around him. Many thought he possessed real magic. Ella knew it was just insight and charisma, and craftiness. She'd seen it all before, especially in con men and charismatic preachers, but it was a striking talent nevertheless.
The thought of going up against whatever or whomever had forced her brother to run terrified her. But he was her brother, and she had to help, and that meant first she had to find him. She tried to put herself in his place. He must have told someone what his plans were. "I have to talk to Loretta."
"She's at the hogan Clifford built for her just before the baby. Her relatives are with her. It's about three miles from here on the other side of the mesa. But you'll have a hard time driving there, the road is washed out again."
"Good. That'll slow Blalock down. I guarantee he'll want to question her, and I'd like to talk to her before he does."
"You don't trust Blalock, I see." Rose's tone showed rare approval.
"What do you know about him?"
"He's been assigned to this area for a long time and he hates it. He wants us to conform to his ways and doesn't seem to understand that he's the one who has to do the adapting. He's not a very likeable man, and he makes enemies far more easily than friends." She shrugged. "From what you've said, I gather you don't have much faith in him either."
"I just don't think he'll get anywhere on this case. He may not realize it, but he's in over his head." Ella turned toward the window. "Now tell me again. How do I find the hogan?"
"Do you remember the cliff face the kids spray painted one year?"
"Yeah, it's about a forty minute walk from here."
"Your brother's hogan is a little south of that place, near a stand of junipers. Runoff from the summer rains will have deepened some of the arroyos, so walking will be slow. Still, it'll be faster than driving."
"I better get started then, it'll be dark before long."
The lines on her mother's face sharpened and fear swept over her features. "Wait then. Go tomorrow instead."
"I can't. By then Blalock might have spoken to her. I need to do this tonight." She knew instinctively that it wasn't the terrain her mother was afraid of. "Do you think our family's enemies will come after me?" She said it knowing that in a way she hoped they would. They'd learn she was no one's easy prey.
"Nights are dangerous here. Now more than ever."
She exhaled softly. There was so much her mother would never say openly to her. Ella's refusal to accept the old ways stood as an insurmountable chasm between them at times. She needed facts, but her mother's facts were often rooted in her beliefs, and those were ones Rose didn't want to expose to Ella's coldly logical viewpoints. "I'll take my pistol, don't worry. It should be in the trunk I shipped ahead."
She went down the hall to what had once been her room. Her childhood books still filled the shelves. A maroon and silver Shiprock Chieftains banner was proudly displayed on the white washed walls, along with a watercolor painting of Shiprock she'd done back in the eighth grade. That her mother had chosen to keep all of her treasures warmed Ella's spirits. As her gaze drifted to the far wall, she saw the crucifix that hung over the bed.
Ella stared at it. She'd never quite believed in the Christian god, but then again, she wasn't quite about the Navajo gods either. She could understand Clifford's aversion to the religion the missionaries had brought into the Southwest. Navajo fear of the chindi was strong, and the stories she'd heard as a child made it difficult for her to imagine the apostles feeling anything but stark terror when Jesus visited them after the crucifixion.
"I put your trunk in the closet," Rose said.
Ella retrieved it by the leather handle, and unlocked the lid. Grabbing the windbreaker from the top, she rummaged among the clothing and retrieved her pistol, ammunition, and running shoes. "I'll be back," she said, taking off her street shoes and lacing up the sneakers. She then slipped the pancake holster through her belt, and adjusted it. "Please don't worry."
Her mother said nothing, but concern was evident in her stiff, disapproving stance.
Ella headed down the dirt track, knowing it would be easier to go this way until the track reached a dead-end. Although she was in good physical shape, hiking across the uneven, desert terrain was always tiring.
It had been a wet summer; the desert received almost all its rain in July and August, and thunder boomers in the afternoon were very common. She glanced around her, seeing the results of those rains. Water had carried away tons of sediment, leaving large furrows that would have been particularly cruel to passengers in a car or truck riding over them. She picked her path carefully, among the natural ditches that bordered the dirt track. Hearing a loud rumble of thunder, she glanced up at the gathering clouds. It was likely to rain again soon.
Ella walked carefully, patiently sorting her thoughts while she came to terms with the world she'd reentered. As dusk settled over the Four Corners region known as the Colorado Plateau, the ground became shrouded in increasingly deeper and darker shadows. The hum of night insects rose to a droning crescendo, and the air became sticky, almost humid.
Struggling mentally with the events of the past two days, she reached the top of the latest rise, then started downhill. She was watching a large jackrabbit scamper away in its typical endless retreat, when some sixth sense compelled her to turn around. At the top of the little hill she was descending was a large animal. She tied to make out some details, but the creature was well camouflaged against the purple and gray backdrop of the twilight sky.
It was too large to be her mother's dog, or any dog for that matter. A bear would have been a possibility, but it was the wrong shape. Cougars were rare in this area, so she ruled them out too. She took a step toward the creature to get a better look, but as she did her skin prickled uncomfortably. Ella stopped as the animal moved back into the shadows and vanished. She wondered if it might have been a wolf.
Abruptly an old black pickup appeared at the same spot the animal had been standing only seconds before. It started down the rutted incline, bouncing and sliding. She heard the engine revving up, and stared in disbelief as the vehicle careened directly toward her. It ripped through the sagebrush and pi on faster than anyone who knew the land would ever dare go.
She started running as fast as she could, heading for the next rise. If she could get there with a few seconds to spare, she might be able to fire off a few shots and either disable the truck or hit the driver.
Ella glanced behind her and realized the pickup was gaining ground too quickly. She'd never get away. She'd have to make her stand right where she was.
She whirled and pulled out her pistol, going quickly into a two handed combat stance. In the semi-darkness, hitting the driver of a truck that was bouncing all over the place would be nearly impossible. Her only chance was to wait until it was almost upon her. She swallowed back her fear and took careful aim. ©1997
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*About the authors: Aimee and David Thurlo have been married for twenty seven years. David grew up on the Navajo Indian Reservation. The authors currently reside in New
Mexico and share their home with horses, dogs and various rodents. Write to Aimee and David Thurlo Visit Aimee and David Thurlo's home page.
Author: Aimee Thurlo
CHAPTER ONE
SPRING, 1997
Gabriel Blackhorse woke up in a gnarly mood. He coughed, sputtered, and blinked back the sleep from his eyes. Damnation. He'd come out here to get away and relax. Why on earth was he waking up so early?
Tossing aside the top half of the sleeping bag, he sat up, half naked, and sniffed the pungent air. He suddenly knew what had woken him up, and it wasn't good. Gabriel squinted through the haze of smoke that enveloped the forest clearing where he'd spent the night. The Forest Service boys had been scheduled to make a prescribed burn in the area to clear away the underbrush, but from the looks of it, that fire had gotten out of hand. It shouldn't have come anywhere near this campsite.
Grabbing his jeans and pulling them on as he walked, he went to his Jeep and radioed the dispatcher back in town. It only took a moment to confirm that the fire had jumped the fire line. The rangers were scrambling to contain the blaze.
Well, from the looks of it, nobody was going to have a good day. He searched the ground next to the bedroll for his jish, the medicine bundle with the flint hawk, a fetish carved by an ancestor of his who'd also borne that name. According to tradition, Gabriel's father had handed it down to him, a few months ago, and he'd kept it with him ever since. Finding the fetish, he quickly fastened the drawstring around his belt, then grabbed the sleeping bag and ground cloth, tossing both into the back of the Jeep. It was time to get out of here.
The Jeep bounced for a few minutes along the uneven dirt trail until Gabriel reached the graveled forestry road. As he began the final quarter mile stretch before reaching the main highway, Gabriel caught a glimpse of something blue and metallic behind a cluster of pines. A car.
Someone else must have had the misfortune of choosing this area as a campsite. He had to go make sure they were awake, and getting ready to leave.
Gabriel drove off the forest road, following the tire imprints left on the sandy soil. The camp was just a dozen or so yards off the road. He studied the site as he pulled up. The car was parked near a one-man tent, but no one was visible. "There's a brush fire!" he yelled, honking the horn. "You've got to get out of here now!"
Not receiving a response, he left his vehicle and walked to the tent. Whoever was in there was either stone deaf or just too hungover to care.
He peered inside the tent, but it was empty. A lace bra and lavender-colored panties stuck out of a bright pink laundry bag with a cartoon chipmunk design on it.
He stepped back outside, curious now about the camper. Frilly things like the ones he'd found inside didn't fit his image of an outdoorswoman, particularly one who'd go camping alone.
The smoke was getting thicker, moving up from the valley below in a growing cloud. "Anyone out here?" He shouted loud enough to be heard in the next county, but there was no response.
The woman couldn't have gone far, her vehicle was still there. Problem was, he had no idea when the smoke had reached this spot. It was possible she'd gone off on a hike and then been unable to find her way back in the haze.
Gabriel muttered an oath. He'd have to go look for her. He crouched by the ground, studied the direction of the tracks, then returned to his Jeep. He'd cover ground faster that way.
Gabriel drove slowly into the forest, remembering a time long ago when he'd gone to rescue his two younger brothers out of a similar situation. He'd broken Lucas' nose that time for taking good natured Joshua along on a beer bust that had gone wrong. Not that Joshua needed his protection, even back then.
Gabriel kept his eyes on the trail ahead, focusing on the present. Duty defined, him, as did the badge he carried, and he had a job to do. The last thing he needed now was a flat tire, and between the rocks and the smoke, the area was as safe as a mine field. He'd been driving around for about an hour before he finally saw her. She'd climbed up onto a rock outcropping and was now trapped by a circle of burning brush and grass.
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Lanie stared in horror at the thick sheets of smoke that engulfed the desert floor. How could everything have gone so wrong? It had been beautiful this morning, a perfect time for a hike, the temperature cool and pleasant, the air stirred by a gentle breeze.
Then, within a half hour, everything had changed. The breeze had become a gust of wind, and smoke from several locations downhill had started filling up the canyons. An idyllic morning had suddenly turned into a nightmarish vision from Hell.
Lanie wasted no time, hurrying back toward her camp, always moving away from the smoke. Then the fire jumped the narrow canyon she'd been crossing, forcing her to climb the rocky slope as fire quickly surrounded her.
Smoke stung her eyes, her throat and lungs, making her cough despite the bandanna she'd tied over her nose and mouth. With each passing second, her thoughts were becoming more muddled, her mind encased in a fog as thick as the smoke encircling her.
Nothing but a miracle would save her now. Her heart felt leaden. She'd made so many mistakes in her life, but she'd still dared to dream. In the past few months those dreams had been pushed deep inside her, but not discarded. With sorrow, she faced the possibility that they'd never have a chance to become real.
She searched in desperation for a sign of hope. As a flicker of movement caught her attention, Lanie squinted, trying to focus. Swirling images swam before her.
Suddenly she saw a figure cloaked in gray, running through the ring of fire. He was coming directly toward her.
Wondering if she was hallucinating, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the specter she'd seen braving the flames had reached her and was lifting her into his arms. He pressed her against his hard, muscled chest until she could hear his heart drumming fast and strong. His breath touched her cheek above the bandanna as he whispered something she couldn't quite make out.
Maybe it was all a wild, wonderful fantasy before death. Yet, as the thought formed, his arms wrapped even tighter around her, and she knew he was real.
Encircled by the flame retardant blanket and her rescuer's strong embrace, she surrendered to the dark oblivion that called gently to her.
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Awareness returned slowly to Lanie. "Easy," she heard a man's deep voice say as he pulled down the bandanna she'd used to filter the air, "You passed out from the heat and smoke, but you're okay now. Just don't rush it."
Lanie's vision was hazy, and she blinked madly, trying to make out his face. She was resting against him, but she had neither the desire or will to move away from the strength and comfort of his arms. Slowly, like a photograph developing before her eyes, her vision cleared.
Though streaked with sweat and ashes, the Navajo man who held her was devastatingly handsome. His hair was black, long enough to touch his shoulders. His eyes were like a moonless night that seemed to explode from within with a brilliance that made her breath catch in her throat.
"Good. You're really with me now," he murmured. "Stick around this time." His smile was dazzling, filled with tender concern.
The warmth of his breath touched her face like a lover's caress. She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue, and heard him draw in a breath.
"You're an irresistible temptation, woman. Forgive me for taking advantage of you," he murmured.
He leaned over, taking her mouth with his own. His lips moved over hers, barely touching, yet so persuasive she couldn't help but respond.
Caught in a swirl of sensations, a tremor rippled through her. He had sheltered her while they'd escaped the blaze, but in his arms, she was finding another kind of fire--one with the power to blaze a path to her soul.
He drew away slowly. "I hope you won't begrudge me that reward."
"Not at all." Lanie took a deep breath and smiled. "But now the debt's been paid. We're even."
He laughed. "If you say so."
Lanie sat up, moving away from him as she looked around the unfamiliar room. "Who are you, and where am I?"
"You're safe and you're in my town. I'm Sheriff Gabriel Blackhorse. Welcome to Four Winds."©1997
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*About the author: Aimee Thurlo lives in New Mexico. She's been married for 27 years. She's written 37 novels to date. She shares her country home with one husband, several horses, dogs, and pet rodents. HER DESTINY is the first book in the Four Winds trilogy. Write to Aimee Thurlo Visit Aimee Thurlo's home page.
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