Four Corners War

by Ted Clifton

  Trujillo chuckled. “My first reaction with the governor was to tell him to go to hell, and just move on down the road. But Farmington’s my home, and I can’t just walk away. I welcome your help. I just ask that if you know something I should know, that you tell me.”

  “Agreed. And consider yourself officially Acting Sheriff.” Ray told Trujillo everything he knew about Grimes’s alleged tax crimes and how they could have an impact on the president of the Navajo Nation. Doing that risked the wrath of the governor, but Ray was once again trusting his gut that Trujillo was who he seemed to be. Besides, he needed allies, even one he wasn’t yet a hundred percent sure about.

  Ray and Tyee had been waiting almost twenty minutes in the reception area of the mayor’s office in Farmington. When Ray called, Mayor Frank Chavez had agreed to meet with them and had told them to just come on over. Now, keeping them waiting felt like one of the power games some people played that drove Ray nuts.

  “To hell with it. Let’s get out of here. This gamesmanship bullshit drives me nuts.” Ray was losing patience with everyone and everything. Just then the door opened and a rotund fellow with a strange comb-over waddled out of his office like he was the judge in a county hog contest.

  “Oh, so sorry. I was on the phone with President Begay and he just talks and talks. Don’t that just drive you crazy—someone who just goes on and on? Well, you must be Sheriff Pacheco, and Mr. Chino, so glad to meet you. I visited with Acting Sheriff Trujillo and he said wonderful things about you both. Did you know that Sheriff Trujillo and I both attended Jefferson High School right here in Farmington? Isn’t that something? And now, I’m mayor and he’s sheriff. I sure wouldn’t have guessed that when we were in school. We were nowhere near the best students in the school, but look at us now. You just never know how things are goin’ turn out—who would’ve guessed it? Well, look at me just blabbing on like nobody’s business. It’s great you had time to stop by. Both of you. It’s so impressive. I mean you’re almost famous. Right here in my office. Isn’t that something? Please come on in so we can talk in private. Isn’t this great?”

  All Ray’s instincts were screaming at him to run like hell from this amazingly obnoxious man. He glanced at Tyee, who seemed in a kind of trance, staring at the little round mayor. Ray nudged him to break the spell. They followed Chavez into his office.

  “Isn’t this something? Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee or tea? Or maybe something stronger? After all,” Chavez winked, “it’s getting late in the afternoon.”

  “No, we’re fine, Mr. Mayor.”

  “Great, great. Well, if you don’t mind I think I might have a little cocktail. Just a tad early for me, but this is so exciting to have you as guests, I think I’ll make it a special occasion.” The mayor pulled a whiskey bottle from his desk drawer and poured a considerable amount into a red plastic cup. “Well, cheers.” After a couple of deep gulps, he appeared to be calmer, more ready to talk.

  Ray began. “I’m sure Acting Sheriff Trujillo mentioned to you that we’re here as representatives of the governor. He wanted us to make sure we paid you a courtesy visit since we’re going to be in your town.”

  “Well, isn’t that something? I didn’t even know the governor knew my name. How about that? Man, that calls for a drink.”

  Ray and Tyee began to surmise that almost anything called for a drink as far as the mayor was concerned. The question crossed Ray’s mind once more: how do these people get elected? “The governor,” he continued, “appreciates the good job you’re doing. Also, while we’re here, I thought I might ask you about Councilman Martin. Did you know him well?”

  Chavez seemed to deflate, if only for their benefit. “My god, we were like brothers. I still can’t believe he’d kill himself. My god, what a tragedy. I still can’t believe this has happened right here in Farmington.” To soothe his pain, the mayor prescribed himself another good slug.

  “Was there any indication he might be suicidal?”

  “Thomas, suicidal?” Chavez frowned dubiously. “Well, of course not. He’d gone through a tough divorce, but that was years ago. He was by most accounts having a blast—drinking and palling around with Lewis Grimes. Thomas wouldn’t have committed suicide. I’ve already told Trujillo that—no way he killed himself. I don’t know what happened, but he didn’t commit suicide.” Now the mayor was feeling no pain and appeared for a moment to be headed toward discussion of more details. But he stopped and looked a little strangely at them. “Gosh, this is great having you people visit me today and bringing greetings from the governor—just great. But I just remembered, I need to be across town for a meeting on a zoning matter. Hate to give you the bum’s rush, but I really have to get going.” He got up, a little wobbly, and showed Ray and Tyee to the door.

  Ray blinked outside. “That was one strange man. I think he got pretty soused in record time. Then he realized who he was talking to. I don’t know what to think about him. What about you?”

  Tyee nodded, still puzzled. “Strange person. But no question—he suddenly realized he was talking too much. And I imagine that’s not a very common realization for him.”

  “Where’s the Navajo Nation headquarters?”

  “I think it’s located in Window Rock, Arizona. But there’s a lot of stuff in Shiprock, here in New Mexico. I think Window Rock’s a couple hundred miles from here, and Shiprock maybe thirty miles—but that’s only a guess.”

  “Well, shit,” Ray grumbled. “I had no idea their headquarters was that far. I guess we need to call and set something up. Maybe see if we could meet in Shiprock.”

  “Yeah. Need to get our act together before we go popping in on the reservation.”

  “Is Shiprock on the reservation?”

  “Yep. I think I remember from school that the reservation is almost 30,000 square miles spread over New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah. That’s bigger than most states back East. But it’s sparsely populated. And much of the land is basically uninhabitable. That’s probably one reason the government gave it to the Navajos. The nation,” he explained, “is autonomous to a degree. It exists in the middle of the United States, but based on treaty it can govern itself. Still, the federal government holds a kind of veto power, just in case they do something really stupid,” he added with irony. “But both sides take the autonomy of the nation very seriously.”

  Ray and Tyee headed back to the sheriff’s department to make some calls.

  “Looks like the president will be very pleased to meet us in Shiprock in about an hour,” Ray said after hanging up. “Didn’t talk to him, but his assistant seemed very nice. He said the president would be honored to meet a representative of the governor’s office.”

  Tyee didn’t look impressed. “Maybe it’s a trap?”

  “I did mention I was bringing a giant Apache bodyguard, but that didn’t seem to faze the assistant. Maybe they already know about you.”

  “You know, I’m a much better wiseass than you. That just doesn’t sound right coming from a respected lawman.”

  “I sense jealousy.”

  “If we’re going, it’s time to giddy-up.”

  The terrain was very stark outside Farmington. It somehow gave Ray the same feeling he imagined he’d have if he were leaving port on a schooner and venturing into the ocean—a hundred years ago. The desert floor was barren and seemed lifeless. In the distance there were large rock formations, and prominent among them was the likely inspiration for the town’s name: Shiprock. A massive chunk of rock rose up from the desert floor in the shape of a sailing ship. It was hard to gauge at a distance, but must have reached several thousand feet into the air. Ray felt as if he’d left the familiar world behind.

  “Kind of spooky.”

  “Yeah. That’s one big rock out in the middle of nowhere. But don’t get scared Tyee, I’m here to protect you.”

  “White man wiseass remarks increasingly tiresome.”

  There were only a few buildings in Shiprock, the largest clearly mark
ed as the Navajo Nation’s offices. Ray pulled up in front and paused.

  “We’ve been joking, but I do take this very seriously. These are real crimes, possibly including murder, that may have been committed by some very powerful people. We need to be very alert and cautious.”

  “Yep, I agree. We’re now in a different country.”

  “Sheriff Pacheco and Mr. Chino, it’s a great honor to meet you both. I’ve heard from many people about how you’ve handled some very messy deals for the governor. I must tell you, I’m not a fan of Governor Johnson. Not sure if it’s his style or if it’s the substance of his policies, but we don’t agree on much. With that said, though, I welcome you to the Navajo Nation.”

  It was obvious by his greeting, warm and cold at the same time, that Begay was a politician first and foremost. It also was immediately clear they weren’t going to learn anything from him unless he thought it benefited him.

  “Thank you, Mr. President. We do appreciate you seeing us on such short notice, and we won’t take much of your time. We do work for the governor, but we recognize he can sometimes be a challenge. We’d originally made a visit to Farmington to get a handle on what was happening in the sheriff’s department after Sheriff Jackson’s sudden departure. Of course, that was soon complicated by the discovery of Barbara Jackson’s body and then Councilman Martin’s demise.”

  Begay shook his head. “Hard to believe such things are going on in Farmington, but I’m sure Sheriff Trujillo will get to the bottom of it soon.”

  “Yes, sir. We agree. We’re not trying to interfere, just help. The governor asked us to drop by and assure you that we’re monitoring the situation. He said you were upset with the arrest of Mr. Kee.”

  “Well, yes. I called the governor while I was a little hot. Since then I’ve been told that Kee, for whatever reason, confessed to killing Barbara Jackson. I’m sure he didn’t actually kill her, but in the circumstances I can’t exactly blame Sheriff Trujillo for holding him. We’re in the process of hiring an attorney to assist Mr. Kee.”

  “That sounds like the right approach. We don’t have any special information about these killings. As I said, we were asked to look into the sheriff’s department and make sure the citizens of the county had a functioning department. And I believe they do.”

  Begay smiled. “Is there anything else I can help you with? Or did you just drop by because the governor thought I might literally go on the warpath?”

  “I’m sure it will please the governor to know the situation is now in the hands of the sheriff’s department and war has been averted. However,” Ray cleared his throat, “there was another matter we thought might be good to bring to your attention. I’m sure you’re aware that there’s some concern regarding a considerable amount of fuel being reported as sold on the reservation by Grimes Oil Company. The governor and his people believe that amount seems rather substantial considering the population on the reservation. Do you have any information that might help us to understand that?”

  Ray and Tyee felt a significant drop in the room temperature, from friendly to icy. President Begay might have been mostly politician, but his expression changed, becoming a lot closer to warrior. Ray tensed.

  “Had no idea you were here to investigate tax matters. You should contact our financial division. I’m sure they can assist you.” Begay began to rise, as if to indicate their meeting was over.

  Ray kept his seat. “The governor just wanted to make sure you had a heads-up from him regarding this investigation into Mr. Grimes’s business dealings. He didn’t want you to be blindsided.”

  Begay wasn’t having it. “You and your governor are full of shit. You can tell him that he’ll play hell getting anything from us. We are a sovereign nation, and we’ll not play along with a witch hunt. If New Mexico wants to go after Grimes for his business activities in New Mexico, go right ahead. But what happens on this reservation is none of the state’s business.” With that, President Begay started to leave the room.

  “I’m sorry, President Begay, if that came out sounding like a threat. I had no intention to suggest anything. I was only conveying information. If I could, there’s one other area regarding Mr. Kee that maybe you could help us clear up.”

  “I don’t wish to be rude, sheriff, but you have worn out your welcome. Good day.”

  Outside, Tyee smirked. “Well, Sheriff Smooth-Talker, I think we’ve pissed off everyone we’ve talked to today. Should we continue on, or go home?”

  “Doesn’t feel like we’ve made any real progress, does it?”

  “We have two bodies, numerous suspects, one dubious confession, a missing sheriff, and we’re surrounded by hostile people. Actually feels kind of normal.”

  “I know. Pretty typical. What really confuses things for me are the tax issues and how they relate to all this and Kee’s confession. Why was Begay so upset that Kee was being held by the sheriff? I can’t imagine him taking a great deal of personal interest in a less-than-upstanding citizen in that situation.”

  “One of my very wise uncles used to say, when you cannot understand someone’s current behavior, look at their history.”

  “Doesn’t sound very Indian.”

  “Well, he was an English professor at New Mexico State and only spoke Indian to entertain his grandchildren.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Apology accepted, Big Chief.”

  Ray and Tyee plodded along for a few more days, making little if any progress. It became clear that being in Farmington was again a waste of time. Until something happened, they were just waiting, and they could do that at home. Ray called the governor’s pilots.

  “You know, Ray,” Big Jack looked at him, “it seems to me you go away a while, create a big mess, then come back home and hide. That about right?”

  “You do have a great way of summarizing things.”

  “My goodness, Ray. You have been around that old crazy governor so much you’ve turned into a bullshitter yourself. Why don’t you just tell me to go to hell and get it over with?”

  Conversations with Big Jack had started to become more confrontational after he was elected mayor. The easy-going “grab a beer and go take a nap on the dock” Big Jack had been replaced by the “why the hell am I talking to this guy” Big Jack.

  “Go to hell.”

  “Hey, I like it! An honest response from the famous retired sheriff of Dona Ana County.”

  “Are you trying to piss me off?”

  “Good question. I’ve lost my charm, haven’t I?”

  “Maybe a little.” Ray gave Big Jack a smile, and they chuckled. Ray knew Big Jack was still struggling with being the mayor and having “responsibilities.”

  “Tell me what’s happening in Farmington,” Big Jack offered. “Sounds like there’s some kind of crime wave going on.”

  That felt like safer ground. Ray related what he knew and speculation about what it might mean. “There’s little question that somehow Grimes is involved in the deaths. Maybe he didn’t do either, but I bet he has a good idea who did. Those tax charges are big, though. And even if he believes he’s too rich and important for anybody to charge him with a crime, I think that’s what the governor intends to have his people do. How that fits with the Navajo Nation and its president, I don’t know, but that’s also an explosive situation. Barbara Jackson’s death was murder for sure, based on the evidence. Martin’s could be suicide or murder; still don’t know. Have an old Navajo who confessed to killing Jackson, but it seems unlikely he did it. Still, he had inside information and it gave him some credibility. How he came to know that information is still a question and so is what made him confess if he didn’t kill her. And of course, all of this seems to possibly have some connection with Sheriff Jackson taking off with military equipment and hiding out somewhere in Colorado with a militia.”

  “That’s a lot of bad stuff in a short time for a small town.”

  “No question. And my gut says it’s all connected. These just don’t seem li
ke isolated events. Plus, the old Navajo, a guy name Kee, has claimed in the past to be Sheriff Jackson’s father.”

  “What! Come on Ray, you’re making this shit up.”

  “Nope, this is beyond anything I could make up. A heck of a mess, and I’m guessing there’s no way it’s going to end well.”

  “I think I’d be worried about another murder.”

  Ray stood in his kitchen hugging his wife.

  “If you squeeze me any harder, I might scream,”

  “Oh, Sue. I’m sorry. It’s just so good to be home and to hold you.”

  She gave him one of her great smiles but noticed trouble in his eyes. “What’s really wrong, Ray?”

  Ray’s whole being felt like it sagged. His arms even felt heavy. He looked at Sue. She deserved an answer. “I’m feeling like I can’t handle things the way I used too. I know, the physical part’s been going on for years. But this case has made me worried about my mind. Nothing in particular, just a sense that I’m not picking up on subtle things that always used to be so easy for me. Plus, I’m just flat-out tired.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being tired. Young people get tired. I bet Tyee’s tired. I’m tired. You focus too much on your age. You’ve been so busy and in stressful situations—Ray, you should be tired. And just because you can’t figure out every aspect of this case right off doesn’t mean you’re losing your edge. I think you need to go fishing a few days and think about what happened in Farmington and how it can all fit together. Agreed?”

  “Yeah. At least on the fishing part. I also need more time with my lovely wife and my devoted dog.” At the mention of “dog,” Happy came up wagging his tail to rub up against Ray’s leg. It felt good to be home. Some of his sadness was already gone.

  Over the next few days, Ray and Tyee spent considerable time fishing on Elephant Butte Lake. Fishing is something that can be done alone or with a companion, and if you have someone with you, you can talk or not talk. Ray and Tyee had found a comfort in being alone together as they fished, each keeping company with his own thoughts.