by Ted Clifton
“Seems to me,” Tyee broke the silence, “the deaths of Barbara Jackson and Martin are both murders. A town like Farmington’s not going to suddenly have multiple murderers. So I think it’s one.” He had given the matter much thought.
“Makes sense. Why do you think this murderer killed them?”
“Lust or greed have to be involved. Maybe it’s someone who was mad at Barbara for her affairs, and at Martin for being with her. Or somehow this has to do with all the money Grimes stole from fuel taxes. Maybe they were all involved and had a falling-out,” Tyee made his cases with no hesitation.
Ray was not so sure. “Hmm. Both those scenarios would seem to point to Grimes. Do you think he killed them?”
“Why not? We know he has a violent temper, and I believe he’s a ruthless bastard who’d do anything for money and power.” Tyee thought he could see Grimes clearly.
“Even so, we’ve got no evidence that it’s Grimes. Plus, if the Martin death is murder, then whoever staged it did a good job. The assistant coroner told some of the deputies that other than a bruise on Martin’s jaw, and a limited amount of powder burn on his hand, all indications are that it’s suicide. Of course we don’t have a coroner’s report yet, which is a problem, but unless the assistant coroner is an idiot, or hiding something for some reason, the fake scene was handled fairly well. More like a lawman than a businessman. Not sure Grimes would know how to stage a suicide that convincingly. And there’s still no official ruling that it’s murder. Maybe Martin really did kill himself. Maybe this is about lust and he impulsively killed Barbara over love gone wrong, then suffered remorse and shot himself.” Ray still had questions, but the obvious answer might still be the correct answer.
“Well, that would sure make it nice and neat. The killer committed suicide—case closed.” Tyee was ready to be done.
“Yep, almost too tidy.” Ray knew that tidy could happen, but in the real world it mostly didn’t.
They resumed fishing and thinking, and the boat drifted slowly toward the shore. Both men settled into the serenity of the setting. It was a good amount of time before either of them spoke.
“I got some bad news and I need some advice,” Tyee said at last.
“I can’t believe this. The famous Apache sage needs my counsel.”
“You know; you don’t make things easy.”
“Sorry.” Ray actually did feel sorry after he saw how serious Tyee was. He knew what he was going to ask him. He shuddered to himself. He hated talking about personal stuff.
Tyee began, “Nancy’s going back to school. Says she wants to get a law degree and that she can’t just waste away here anymore.” He shrugged. “I had no idea she thought she was wasting away. I thought we had a great thing going. I guess I was wrong. Anyway, she’s going back to Albuquerque. I don’t want her to. But I’m not sure what to do. Has Sue talked to you about this? Is there something I’m not getting?”
“I’m the last person to ask about relationships. Not sure why, but it seems to be an area where I have no expertise at all. Sue’s told me several times that, without her pushing, I would have never asked her to marry me—and all along, I thought I was the assertive one. What I do know is that you and Nancy seem like a great couple. I believe you love her and she loves you, so you need to figure out how to not let the two of you drift apart.”
“Yeah, maybe. I know I care about her, but marriage? It wasn’t that long ago that I was the reclusive lake drunk. It scares me to think about another failed marriage. She planned on leaving for Albuquerque this morning. Said she’d already enrolled. So that’s it—goodbye.”
“I think you should talk to Sue. She’ll give you better advice than I can.”
“Come on Ray—what should I do?”
“You have to do what you think is right.”
“What kind of bullshit advice is that?”
“Okay, my advice is that you go find her in Albuquerque, ask her to marry you, and whatever happens, good or bad, it’s just life. Live with it. Time to giddy-up!”
Tyee was always amazed at non-Indians who, for some reason, got it into their heads that everything was different for an Indian. When he’d first ventured off of the reservation and begun meeting white people in their own world, it wasn’t uncommon to have a someone ask him how an Indian thought. These were usually people who had gotten to know Tyee a little, but still thought he was somehow different from a “normal” person—whatever that meant to them. The image of the stoic Indian who grunted responses was a silly stereotype. At one time, when he’d been a fishing guide, Tyee had actually acted out the cliché as a way of getting clients. He thought he’d gone a little over the top, but the tourists who’d come to him hadn’t even recognized that it was an act. Even within Tyee’s small circle of friends on the reservation there were shy Indians and vocal outspoken ones. Bad and good, mean and kind. Just like people everywhere, they came in a variety of shapes, sizes, and personalities.
Tyee was very large, by anyone’s standards. He was also a very kind, gentle man who was a little shy in most of his dealings with people outside his own family. Because he was big and standoffish, many people assumed that he was cold and unfeeling, when he was nearly the opposite. His emotions were often strong, his feelings lay very close to the surface—and he was sensitive to the feelings of the people around him.
When Tyee first met Marsha, who would later become his wife, at the University of New Mexico, he fell in love, deeply and without hesitation. She was gorgeous, blonde, fun-loving, and smart, and seemed to care for him despite coming from a very rich, very white, very prejudiced family. He was completely out of his element. He was honest to a fault, while Marsha was all about laughs and fun, with a bit of defiance thrown in to irritate her family. And she almost never told the full truth about anything—deceiving was like breathing for her.
What may have started as merely a lark for Marsha eventually led to them being married. It happened fast and without anyone’s approval—both families had forbidden them from marrying, predictably leading them to rush straight into matrimony. They moved to Denver, where Tyee took a promising job with a software development company. From the beginning, though, their marriage wasn’t quite right. Marsha never really settled in. She would go back to Albuquerque to visit her family and be gone for weeks, having little or no communication with Tyee. He, meanwhile, would try to ignore her behavior and concentrate on his new job. His love for his wife was blinding him to the obvious: they were headed for the rocks.
One weekend, after she’d been gone for days, Marsha had called and said she wanted a divorce. As hurtfully as she could, she told Tyee she had fallen in love with someone else, someone more like her. She abruptly ended the call, and Tyee went into a tailspin. Against all logic, he still loved her, and still couldn’t see her obvious flaws—which meant he blamed himself. His promising world collapsed.
After months of depression and despair, he was fired from his job. He headed back to New Mexico and settled into an odd existence, with no home, living in a tent on Elephant Butte Lake. He eventually started taking a few jobs as a fishing guide, which gave him money for booze, which he used to drown out the pain.
Even after all this time, after he’d given up alcohol and made a new beginning working with Ray, Tyee still blamed himself for his failed marriage and for his lost years of self-pity and drunkenness. He was terrified the past would repeat itself, and it made him afraid of any new commitment.
“Just got off the phone with Agent Crawford,” Ray said. “Looks like the FBI and ATF have been pressured by the governor of Colorado to take some action against the Americans for Liberty camp out in southern Colorado. Crawford said some teenagers were out hiking and accidentally stumbled onto the camp. They said they were threatened and basically scared to death, but unhurt. Anyway, that’s all Graham will take, so either the feds do something or he’s sending in the National Guard.”
Tyee raised his eyebrows. “Can’t let a bunch of make-believ
e military types take over part of your state and do nothing, even if it’s a remote part.”
“Yeah. Their governor may be as nutty as ours, but you’ve still gotta do something. Speaking of our governor, Crawford talked to him, and he of course agreed they needed to break up this gathering of nuts and give him back his equipment. However, our always-wacky governor insisted we go along with them.”
Tyee peered at him. “Are you sure we’re being paid enough for this kind of work?”
“Probably not. I don’t want to go ‘observe’ this nonsense any more than you do, but the governor wants someone who’ll give him direct info on what’s happening to go along with the feds, because they’ll only tell him what they want him to know. So, I think we’re kind of stuck.”
“I wonder if my old job as a drunk Indian fishing guide is still open?”
“Excellent emergency fallback position.”
Ray shared the plan as far as he knew. They would meet up with a team of feds in Albuquerque. Then they’d go from Albuquerque by helicopter to the camp in Ignacio, Colorado. There was already a small group of ATF officers near the campsite, covertly keeping an eye on things while they waited for the rest of the team. The operation was scheduled for early in the morning two days later, but Crawford wanted Ray and Tyee to be in place for the planning session in the afternoon, so they’d need to head out the next morning.
“By helicopter? Helicopter!” Tyee was not happy.
“Can’t be in this man’s army without riding in helicopters.”
“I don’t want to be in this man’s army.” Tyee frowned. “Really, Ray—why’re we doing this?”
Ray threw up his hands. “I don’t know. We got ourselves into the middle of a mess, and it just doesn’t feel right to walk away. I’m really sorry I dragged you into this whole deal. I just don’t know how to say no to the governor. He makes everything seem like a personal affront if you don’t do what he wants. So here we are, getting ready to go on a military-style mission, riding helicopters and carrying automatic weapons. This is my fault. You don’t have to do this. Matter of fact, maybe it’s best if you don’t go.”
Tyee didn’t like that idea, either. “Oh, great. Just when the fun starts, I have to stay home.”
“Okay. If you insist, you can go.” Ray peered at him seriously.
“Wait a minute. Did you say, ‘automatic weapons’?”
“Small ones.” Ray tried to hide a grin.
“How ’bout if I just carry water or something?”
“Water boy! So you want to be the water boy for the military?”
“Guess they don’t have water boys in the army.”
“Probably not. Maybe the Navy.”
“How about radio guy?”
“Yep, probably have those. I’ll ask Sanchez or Crawford if you can be a radio guy or a water guy, or maybe a map guy. I bet they have a map guy.”
“Forget it. I’ll go as an observer—neutral observer. I like that.”
“Neutral observer, it is. In a helicopter.”
“Jeez, I forgot about the helicopter. I think I need a raise.”
Ray laughed. “Yeah, I think we both do.”
Some Days Earlier
Sheriff Jake Jackson knew his wife was having an affair with Councilman Thomas Martin. At least, he thought he did. Hell, everybody else seemed to know it. What really teed him off was that this affair came right after she had one with Grimes. And my god, Grimes had to be seventy years old. How could she do such a thing?
Still, he didn’t hate her. He knew he was a hard man to be around, much less married too. Jake Jackson sensed, instinctively, that he was going crazy. Not being one to dwell on introspection, he was nevertheless keenly aware that he’d never felt mentally secure. Instead, he always felt he was on the outside of reality, looking in. And lately he could tell he was moving further from sanity. That did not alarm him. It only made him more conscious that he had only a little time left to settle things.
He’d left with his primary militia contingent for Ignacio to establish a camp and was excited to be on what he called “maneuvers,” even if half of the men seemed to him nuttier than he was. Once they arrived and started setting up camp, he made his decision. He had to go back to Farmington and contact Barbara.
He had to because one of the most troublesome loose ends in his life was his father, Chris Kee. As angry as he was with Barbara, she was the only one he could ask to look after him. Jake knew the most likely outcome of this misadventure with the militia group would be armed conflict with the feds. He didn’t expect to survive.
He’d protected his dad over the years, while Kee fell deeper and deeper into alcoholism. It was his responsibility; he couldn’t ignore it. He owed it to his mother, too. So he needed his slutty wife to help just this one last time.
After a couple of days in camp, he told his followers he had to leave for an emergency meeting with the governor of Colorado and would be back soon. He headed to Farmington.
He didn’t have a plan. He knew Barbara would probably be agreeable with some of what he wanted, as long as he stayed cool and didn’t yell at her. He wasn’t sure he could do that. He knew if he lost his temper, she would yell back and everything would go to shit. Their split happened after a yelling match about her spending too much time at work.
After she left, his world started to collapse. He did love her and thought she was the most stable thing in his mixed-up world. He lost focus. Everything and everybody turned into threats. Madness found Sheriff Jake Jackson in Farmington, New Mexico.
By the time he arrived in Farmington, he felt calm and thought he would be able to talk to Barbara without getting angry. First, however, he had to find his dad. He knew his most likely hangouts—three hole-in-the-wall downtown bars. He’d gone to them many times to get his dad, either to take him home or put him in a cell to sleep it off. When Jake was a child, he hadn’t known Kee was his dad. He instead believed his mother’s stories about his father being a war hero. Kee just hung around the house a lot, and except for a few times when he’d drunk too much, he was usually nice to Jake. Jake didn’t hate him or like him. He was just one more “friend” who came to see his mother.
When Jake was in high school his mother took a bad fall. She was drunk and had fallen down the stairs. He rushed to the hospital, where he was told she might not live. He’d never been as scared as he was that day. His mother was his world, and without her he’d be lost. She didn’t die—in fact, after a few days she was her old self again—but while she lay in the hospital, she told him Chris Kee was his real father, and that if anything should happen to her, he should go to Kee for help.
Jake could not believe it. He screamed at her, ran out of the hospital, and wouldn’t talk to her for more than a week. He’d even stayed with a classmate to avoid her after she returned home. He tried to pretend she’d never told him about Kee. But as time moved on, he began to accept this turn of events. What did it matter to him, anyway, who his father was?
Later, after his mother died, Jake began to watch out for Kee. They never talked much, but Jake was always there to get him out of trouble.
At the second place he checked, Angel’s Bar and Grill, he found Kee passed out in a storeroom in back.
“Listen, sheriff,” Angel muttered to him, “I know you watch after this guy. But I can’t have him comin’ around here anymore. He bothers my customers, always begging for drinks, and when they say no, he gets mad. I’m going to be at your office tomorrow, and I’ll file a complaint against him. I don’t give a shit what you think.”
Jake hardly reacted. “Don’t get excited. I’ll make sure he stays away.”
“Well. Okay. Look, I don’t want to cause trouble, but I’ve got a business to run. You understand, don’t you, sheriff?”
“Sure. I understand.” They hauled his dad out to the truck, and Jake drove to Barbara’s apartment. He thought about how everybody he knew had a fucked-up life. And he was tired of all of the grief. It was time
for it to be over. He left Kee in the truck and went up to the apartment door to ring the bell.
“What the hell do you want?” Barbara greeted him. “Hasn’t this been the worst goddamn day in my life, and now you show up? Just leave, Jake. I don’t want to talk to you about anything. Just go!”
“Goddammit,” he seethed. There went his calm. “Why are you always such a bitch? I just need to talk to you for a minute. Then I’ll leave.”
“Shit. Okay, come in, before my neighbor calls the cops.”
He tried to become calm again. “Look—the first thing I want to say is I’m sorry. I’m sorry about our marriage going to shit, and I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. I really thought we could make it work. But it didn’t.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got some things I’m going to have to do, and I think there’s some chance I won’t be back.”
She arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you talking about your crazy army shit?”
Jake felt anger return, but fought it. Maybe this whole idea was a mistake? He just couldn’t have a conversation with her anymore. “Maybe I should just go.”
She sighed. “Shit, Jake. Just tell me what you want.” She turned to walk back into the tiny kitchen, turning her attention to something cooking on the stove.
He took a deep breath. “There’s some chance I won’t be returning to Farmington, and I was wondering if you’d look out for my dad if I’m not around.”
Barbara gave a dismissive laugh. “Your dad. You know what I think? I think your mother made all that shit up just to mess with you. She was as nutty as they come. I don’t think she had any idea who your dad was.”
The rage pounced on Jake, blinding him. He sprang toward her, grabbed the skillet and swung it. He heard the sound, loud and sickening. She dropped to the floor, dead. Jake stood, stunned. What just happened? He stared at her body. He turned to see Kee standing at the open door. The old man seemed to be screaming. But there was no sound.
