Mourning Dove (18 page)

“No, there’s no one special in my life, and I’m in the same boat you are,” Ella said, laughing. “With me, it’s my mom.” Outside the Rez she would have seen it as a deft way of finding out if she was available,
but on the Rez getting paired up was as inevitable as the rising sun. And it could be annoying.

“I think it’s a good idea, Ford, and it may work out really well for both of us. Lila Curtis will make sure the news spreads like wildfire, too. My mother will be pleased, needless to say, and won’t have a complaint about your profession—after all, my father
was a preacher. The best part is that it’ll
buy us both some breathing room.”

“So you have to deal with it too—the type of logic that believes if you’re single, you couldn’t possibly be satisfied with your life, so you need to be rescued.”

“And as quickly as possible,” Ella added, with a smile. “It’s all well-meaning, but it can make things awkward.”

“Oh, speaking of awkward . . . your brother might have a problem with our plan. Remember
that he’s not exactly my biggest fan?”

“He won’t comment. He never does.”

“Okay. So we have a deal?” he asked.

“Absolutely.”

“We’ll be having the church rummage sale in a few weeks. How about if we kick it off then?”

“Perfect.”

“Great,” Ford said, walking her out. “Oh, one more question. Would you like me to try and find out more about Jimmy Black-sheep
unofficially
? People around here may
feel more comfortable talking to the clergy than to an officer of the law.”

Ella nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea, but Jimmy was murdered, and it might not have been random, so we’re dealing with extremely dangerous people. You’d have to watch your step.”

“I can handle it. Don’t worry,” he answered without any particular inflection.

It wasn’t bravado. It was a statement of fact, and the kind
of confidence that came from a person who’d seen human nature at its worst too often to ever be taken by surprise. “Stay in touch.”

“Will do,” he said.

Ella walked out to the parking lot, experienced the pleasant warmth of the midafternoon sun for a moment, then climbed into her car. Reverend Bilford Tome interested her—and it had been a very long time since she had thought that about any man.
And he made her laugh. It was a powerful combination.

Justine, who’d been talking to Reverend Campbell, saw her in their unit, and joined her. Seconds later, they were on their way. “I spoke to Reverend Campbell about Samuel Blacksheep,” Justine said. “I remembered having seen him in church a few times. And here’s a surprise. Reverend Campbell heard a rumor that Samuel stole Jimmy’s girlfriend
this past year while Jimmy was overseas, and
that’s
what caused the recent falling out between them.”

“Interesting news. That could explain a lot. Who’s the woman? Did you get a name?”

“Only a first name—Juanita. And she’s not a member of our church. Reverend Campbell’s never met her.”

“We need to ask around. Maybe Randy Billie or John Lee Charley will know more—especially if we give them a
name.”

“I found out something else that’s interesting,” Justine said. “Apparently Samuel’s been out and about investigating his brother’s death, mostly out of uniform. He’s been interviewing everyone who knew Jimmy, and digging hard. Reverend Campbell heard him talking to a few parishioners outside the grocery store.”

“We could probably use Samuel’s help right now. Too bad I don’t trust him,”
Ella said, telling Justine about the conversation she’d had with Officer Bitsillie. “I keep remembering that something was taken from Jimmy’s house—his old stories, according to Samuel.”

“Why the old stories, unless the thief is worried about what Jimmy was writing and believes there may be a clue in there to help figure it out, like we’re trying to do now?” Justine asked.

“Samuel could have
taken them himself, for all we know,” Ella said.

“Could be. Did Reverend Tome help you any?”

“Yeah, he sure did.” Ella recounted what she’d learned. “Ford’s going to try to break the code—and he just might. If Samuel was the type who inspired more trust, I’d suggest that he get together with the Reverend. Let’s face it, Jimmy’s brother
should be in the best position to tell us how Jimmy thought,
and help crack that code. But my gut tells me that it’s a mistake to get Samuel involved. As an officer, he could have easily set up his brother and made it look like a carjacking gone sour. He had all the details of the carjackings right at his fingertips. And what if the message in the code leads to him? That would explain why Jimmy sent it to me instead and why some of his stories are missing
now.”

“Even if he’s innocent, the fact that Samuel’s questioning people without even being attached to the case worries me,” Justine said. “He’s obviously working on his own and he could easily decide that revenge is better than justice.” Justine paused for a moment then added, “He could deal with the killer in his own way and we’d never know—or worse, strike out at the wrong person or people.”

“Okay—so we’re in agreement. We need to keep an eye on Samuel. But he’s on his guard around me, so why don’t you try questioning him solo?” she suggested. Justine’s petite good looks put men at ease, more often than not. “He may tell you more, especially if you don’t play bad cop.”

“You’ve got it, boss. I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Now let’s go see my brother.”

They arrived at Clifford’s hogan
a half hour later after a quick drive south and found him outside, chopping wood. Recognizing their vehicle, he waved, then set down his axe and walked over to meet them.

“What brings you both here?” he asked.

“Do you have a minute?” Ella said. “I need more information about the deceased’s brother. Can you help?” she asked, knowing not to mention people by name here if at all possible.

“Not
much. I’ve met him a few times, but that’s about it.”

“I heard that he and his brother were competing for a woman named Juanita. I don’t have a last name, but I heard that she left the one who died while he was still overseas and took up with his brother. I’d like to track her down so I can question her.”

“Jealousy can tear up families,” he said with a slow nod. “I don’t know who this woman
is, but I’m sure there was a lot of gossip at the time among those who knew both men. I’ll find out what I can.”

“Anything that’ll give me a lead will help.”

He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Knowing how many people Clifford saw as part of his profession, his help was often invaluable. Her brother was a trusted member of the tribe and doors opened to him that would forever remain closed
to her.

“Something else is bothering you,” he added, walking with Ella to where he’d been chopping wood, while Justine remained behind on the telephone.

“I’ve been trying to piece together where the deceased went and what he did after he got back to our land. But some things just don’t add up for me.”

“Like what?” he asked, picking up an armful of split wood.

“According to the medical examiner
he took a dunk someplace just before he died, but there was no soap residue on his skin. We checked motels—but got zip. I considered the river, but it would have been really
cold
this time of year. . . .”

“He’d just come home from war, so he probably stopped at his family’s sweat lodge for a cleansing, then washed himself in the river before drying off. That’s what our warriors do—even the ones
who barely remember the old ways often cling to that custom. Find his family’s sweat house. It’s probably not far away—a good run maybe—from the river.”

“Good thinking, big brother. I’m just surprised that I didn’t think of that first,” she answered with a trace of a smile.

“Remember to stay attuned to the Way. This awareness has helped you before,” he said.

“You’re right,” Ella admitted. “Thanks
for reminding me.” Nodding good-bye, she headed back to the cruiser where Justine was waiting. The fastest way to find the Blacksheep family’s sweat
hogan would be to contact Samuel. Once they were underway, Ella filled Justine in.

“Shall I contact the Farmington PD and track him down?” Justine asked.

“I’ll do it while you drive. I want to talk to him ASAP.”

It took fifteen minutes, but Samuel
finally contacted them just as they reached Shiprock. Ella asked him for directions to his family’s sweat lodge, but Samuel insisted on meeting them at the highway, at a location they’d already driven past several minutes ago, to lead them in.

In a foul mood, Ella gave Justine the highlights, then added, “I want to make sure he doesn’t tamper with any evidence. Don’t let him touch anything. In
fact, keep him back with you while I go ahead and take a look first. If he doesn’t stay put, threaten to cuff him.”

“Oh, that’ll go over real well when his PD hears about it.”

“I don’t care,” Ella said firmly. “There’s something not right about Samuel. He says he cares about his brother, yet he had a relationship with his brother’s girl while Jimmy was overseas in a combat zone. Now Samuel’s
investigating the crime on the sly, and isn’t sharing any information with us. The whole thing just smells.”

Justine didn’t answer right away. “Part of the problem may be that he feels guilty about what happened between him and his brother and now it’s too late to make amends—except by bringing in his brother’s killer or killers. In the most basic of all ways, he may
need
to find whoever killed
his brother—not for revenge necessarily, but to balance the scales again.”

“Without balance, there’s no harmony or walking in beauty,” Ella replied thoughtfully. Anywhere else that wouldn’t have made as much sense as it did here on the
Diné Tah
. Yet there was an inescapable rightness about it . . .
if
Samuel was innocent. “That’s the problem with Samuel in a nutshell. He’s a wild card. Make sure
you keep an eye on him. If he’s responsible for his brother’s death, directly or indirectly, he could be a danger to us as well.”

They headed back toward Shiprock’s southwest quadrant, which was across the river, and on the way passed slowly through the traffic in Shiprock’s tiny downtown area just east of the bridges. A fender bender had occurred just in front of a gas station, and Officer Lujan
had stopped traffic while a wrecker was hooking up one of the damaged vehicles. They crept along slowly, then stopped, waiting for their turn to advance.

“How’s Dawn doing these days? I haven’t had a chance to visit with her. Is she still into riding?” Justine asked.

“Very much so, and though she adores Wind, it won’t be long before she’ll want to get a full-size quarter horse, too, and start
competition riding of one kind or another. But for now, she’s happy with the pony, which is good because keeping three animals in alfalfa and feed would be very expensive. Unfortunately for me, once my daughter gets a pet, it’s for life. There’s no way she’ll ever let me sell Wind, even if I get her a horse.”

“What about your horse, Chieftain? Can you two share him?”

“No way. He’s too much horse
for Dawn,” Ella replied. “Too much for me, sometimes. I try to get up early on weekends and take him for a run, but he’s hard to control and has almost gotten away from me a few times. Whenever he acts up, I run him uphill or in a tight circle until he gets tired.”

“Good strategy,” Justine said.

“It works, but his Saturday-morning workouts can be like a roller-coaster ride.”

Finally, traffic
opened up again as the wrecker pulled away with its load. As they crossed the old steel bridge, heading west, Ella’s thoughts returned to the case at hand. “When we get back to the office I want you to try and do some more digging into Ford’s background.”

“Reverend Tome?”

Seeing the mischievous gleam in Justine’s eyes, Ella continued before her partner could comment. “I still don’t like unanswered
questions about someone who’s helping me with a case.”

“In my limited experience, when you run into government firewalls and screens that practically yell ‘Access Denied’ or ‘Restricted Access,’ the sensible option is to back off. Otherwise remember to smile when you look up ’cause there’ll be a satellite watching you. Or they’ll go cheap and just hack software onto your computer to record every
keystroke from now on.”

Ella considered it then shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s how it’s going to play out. In this case, if my hunch is right, the silence will be deafening.”

They met with Samuel a short distance west of the junction of Highways 64 and 491, within sight of Shiprock High School. Samuel, who was in FPD uniform and in his departmental vehicle, had pulled off the road
at the terminus of a narrow track leading north between alfalfa fields. She could see the edge of the bluff farther ahead and, beyond and below that, the
bosque
, the forest of willows, brush, and large and small cottonwoods that occupied the shoulders of the cold San Juan River.

Seeing them pulling off the shoulder of the highway, Samuel started his car and led the way. They bounced along on
what optimists would call a road, over recent sets of tracks, for about five minutes before he finally pulled over. The dirt track they’d followed abruptly ended at the edge of the bluff.

Climbing out of their SUV, Ella glanced around. Behind them in both directions were fields, still dry and covered with the remnants of last year’s alfalfa. In front of them, at the bottom of the low cliff, lay
a strip of wooded area filled with willows that paralleled the river beyond both banks where the water table was close to the surface.

“We walk the rest of the way,” Samuel said, pointing. The path down was narrow and rough, filled with rocks, roots, tumbleweeds, and deep arroyos large enough to swallow a person.

The hike itself wasn’t long, however, and they were soon at the river. Willows
in clumps often ten feet high or more grew all around. They looked like leaf-covered fishing poles and were
great for roasting marshmallows, Ella recalled with a smile. The scent and ripple of water not far away took Ella back to her childhood and her father’s many baptisms.