The Bible Seller: A Navajo Nation Mystery (Navajo Nation Mysteries Book 7)

by R. Allen Chappell

  Charlie and Billy Red Clay turned back to the hogan. The investigator, seeing Billy un-holster his sidearm, followed suit…more of a reflex action than anything else. Who either of them might be required to shoot remained unclear, even to them.

  Just as the policeman approached the door and reached out to knock, it burst open to reveal Willie Etcitty––Eileen’s right arm wrapped around her neck and a gun stuck in Willie’s ribs. For Charlie, the scene was so bizarre as to instantly cause a freeze-frame in his mind’s eye. The pistol, a mean looking little automatic, was at full cock––a Walther .380 possibly––a weapon designed for close-up killing. It would make a big entry…deadly at close range.

  Eileen was dressed in worn pants and a shirt given her by Willie Etcitty. The two women were of a size and even the old boots fit her well. “Charlie…you and the cop can drop those guns and kick them over this way.” Eileen’s voice was calm, almost friendly, as she reassured them. “No one has to die here today guys.” She jammed the pistol’s muzzle under Willie’s chin, causing the older woman to tilt her head back slightly, making her appear even more vulnerable. “Willie and I are just going for a little ride…that’s all.” Then she further emphasized, “No one’s going to get hurt, if you listen very carefully, and do exactly as I say…DROP THE GUNS!” Eileen’s tone left no room for hesitation or negotiation. Both men tossed down their weapons.

  Harley saw his Aunt Willie flinch, though she showed no sign of fear. She appeared almost as calm as her captor, nearly to the point of indifference from what he could see. He wondered how long Eileen had been listening to them. The two women…the most important women left in his life… stood balanced on the verge of a potentially lethal tragedy. One or the other…maybe both…might soon be dead. As short as their relationship had been, it was clear to Harley that Eileen meant what she said and probably wouldn’t hesitate to act should her hand be forced. It was obvious she was struggling under an increasingly dark veil of hopelessness, possibly the most dangerous emotion to affect the human spirit.

  “Eileen, how about you trade Willie for me?” Harley spoke impulsively, without considering the consequences. “You’re going to need a good driver and you can’t drive and keep an eye on Willie at the same time. I grew up in this country. I know it as well as anyone, and if anyone can get you out of here it would be me.” Harley’s mind came alive—his aunt’s welfare now his first priority. Almost as strong was his belief that Eileen could not have been any part of what Billy Red Clay was alleging. She was not that kind of person. No, that was impossible. “What do you say, Eileen? You can keep that pistol on me…I doubt you could shoot me anyway.”

  “Really Harley? Really! You think I won’t shoot you? That’s a big bet little man…” Eileen touched the tip of her tongue to her teeth indicating she might be giving the idea serious thought.

  Harley, not relaxing his position, spoke again and in a tone that left no doubt. “It’s no gamble for me, Eileen. I probably don’t have any future without you anyway, but together…we just might have a shot.”

  Charlie looked across at Thomas and warily shook his head in warning. Then he glanced at Billy Red Clay, who in turn sighed and nodded silently, conceding they no longer held any cards.

  Poor Willie Etcitty didn’t change expression or give any indication what she might be thinking.

  Eileen pondered Harley Ponyboy’s offer, and in less time than it takes to tell, made her decision. While she was convinced there was little chance of a happy outcome, she did think her chances with Harley to be better than with his aunt. She considered herself without any other viable alternative. At this point she could only put one foot in front of the other and hope for a bit of luck. She’d known for a while now such a time would be coming, but had pretty much refused to think beyond the present.

  “Thomas, you let Harley go.” Eileen’s voice carried the deadly certainty of last resort. When he hesitated, Eileen’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. “I mean right now!”

  “Now wait a minute…” Before Thomas could finish, a bullet from Eileen’s pistol smacked through the fender and only inches from his hand. Thomas looked at the hole and then at Eileen and was certain she hadn’t the slightest idea where that bullet was going to hit. She knew when she fired it she might kill him.

  Charlie didn’t take his eyes off her and his determination was now much the same.

  Thomas released Harley and stepped away––all four men instantly putting their hands in the air––though Eileen hadn’t mentioned that as a condition.

  Eileen’s voice turned icy. “The next person to say a word…or make a wrong move, gets a bullet. It’s just as simple as that.” The kicker, of course, was no one knew who, exactly, would actually get the bullet. She looked directly at Harley while gesturing with the pistol. “We’ll take Charlie’s truck,” she told the little man. “Go ahead and pull the distributer caps on these others and toss them in the back. Maybe, we can use his radio to keep track of things once we get down below.” She inclined her head toward Billy Red Clay’s patrol unit. Take those two cans of gas off the back of the cop’s truck… I’m thinking they might come in handy.”

  Harley didn’t hesitate; he, too, was sure her near miss was more accident than intent––it was a crapshoot. Who would catch the next bullet should she pull the trigger again? Eileen had never given him the slightest indication she could shoot. This was just the sort of thing he liked about her; she was a bold and quick thinker.

  Harley picked up the folded blanket and basket of food his aunt had left on the tailgate. As he hefted the blanket, he smiled to himself and carried the items to Charlie’s truck placing them on the front seat. Going to the other vehicles, he disabled each as instructed. He threw the parts in back with the growing accumulation of other gear––including the supplies Thomas had gathered before leaving home.

  Harley did his work methodically, still refusing to consider the consequences of his hastily devised plan.

  Eileen had to remind Harley several times they were in a hurry. As he scooped up his friend’s handguns, he signaled his agreement and then, smiling apologetically at his friends, he blew the dirt off the pistols and wiped them on his shirt. “I guess you want to take these along don’t you, Eileen? And I may as well throw in my shotgun, too. I doubt you want anyone here shooting at us on our way out.” Harley seemed almost happy now that he’d set his mind to the thing. He thought if he were going to do this he might as well make a good job of it. After he cuffed Thomas and Charlie Yazzie together through the top bar of Billy Red Clay’s brush guard, he used the set of cuffs in Charlie’s glove box to fasten Billy alongside them.

  Thomas lowered his voice, “Take it easy, Harley. No one wants to get Willie shot,” and then whispered, “…and don’t throw those keys too far.” This, so Harley wouldn’t forget and carry them off in his pocket.

  Eileen released Harley’s Aunt Willie who promised she would not interfere or help the men get loose until after Eileen and Harley were gone. Willie promised she wouldn’t, then mouthed a little thanks at her nephew.

  Harley reached in his pocket pulling out the handcuff keys and gave them a fling out across the scrub. “You’ll probably be able to find those after a bit,” he told his aunt. “Maybe the dog can help you. In the meantime you might want to fix these boys a good breakfast so as to take their mind off things.” He grinned at his aunt.

  Harley then turned to the three men handcuffed to the bumper guard. “I’ll drop those truck parts and your guns down the road under the big rock overhang; I wouldn’t want you running into Claude Bell with no means of protecting yourselves. When you get loose one of you will have to hike down there and pick the stuff up. By the time you get back Eileen and I should have a pretty good head start.”

  Willie nodded, gave her nephew a quick hug, and went inside to fix the prisoners something to eat.

  Harley and Eileen had barely pulled out of the yard when Grover Etcitty came wandering out of the brush arbor. Pulli
ng up his suspenders, and brushing his hair with his hand, he stopped to look at the men handcuffed to the truck. He was somewhat surprised to see them there. He didn’t say anything but stood considering the three for well over a minute then shrugging his shoulders, he went inside for his morning coffee.

  18

  The Escape

  Harley took his time easing around the sandstone slab the police unit had dislodged on its way in that morning. He couldn’t imagine how Billy managed to get crosswise of it. Harley suspected more damage was done than just the muffler. That would most likely leave their pursuers only his old pickup for a chase vehicle. Eileen had been smart to choose the Tribal investigator’s truck; Charlie was the sort of driver who took good care of a unit. As he reached for the two-way, Harley saw a flicker of mistrust cross Eileen’s face. “I thought you wanted to listen to what’s going on, Eileen?” Personally, Harley doubted they were close enough to pick up much more than static but felt it wouldn’t hurt to have the radio on.

  Eileen took her eyes off the horizon to peer across the cab at him, as though seriously considering the question. She looked tired and Harley guessed she’d had no more sleep than him. She turned away finally, closed her eyes, and was silent. He took that to mean she didn’t really care, one way or the other, about the two-way radio.

  “As soon as we drop off these guns and stuff we’ll cut back west again. There are a lot of prospector roads back in this country…uranium and gas mostly. I might be able ta work us out on top––just across from Navajo Mountain. I can’t guarantee that…I never heard of anyone trying it…but maybe.”

  Eileen, now staring straight ahead, remained quiet…wondering where Claude Bell was…if he had been caught…or if he might still be on the loose and just up the road waiting to kill them. If Harley could keep away from the law why couldn’t Claude? He was quite a bit smarter than Harley.

  “Eileen, have you ridden a horse much?”

  This brought her to attention. “I’m a town girl, Harley. I’ve never ridden a horse in my life.” She frowned across the cab at him. “Are you thinking that’s what it’s going to take to make this work?” The thought of making their escape horseback didn’t appeal to her in the slightest.

  “I’m just thinking, Eileen, that’s all. We can’t keep this truck of Charlie’s very long.” He shifted down and canted his head a bit sideways, looking out his side window to scan what little he could see of the sky. “It won’t take long this morning ‘til they have a plane up here flying this country. This white truck stands out like a sore thumb. Maybe, when we get out from behind this butte, we can pick up some radio reception.” He paused a moment to consider what he would do if a plane did appear. “It’s not easy to keep from being spotted by an airplane in country like this.” Harley then returned to his original thought. “I know an old man, who lives not far from here who runs horses and usually has a few good ones on hand. He owes me a favor from a long time ago.” This brought no response, finally prompting Harley to change the subject. “We might yet get some idea what’s happening from the two-way.” And then almost as an afterthought, “I would kinda’ like ta know if they’ve picked up Claude Bell?”

  “You can take care of him, can’t you, Harley…I mean if we even run into him?” There was a harshness now––an intensity—that made her seem more ominous––dangerous, even. She continued to toy with the pistol making Harley even more anxious. The safety was off. An armed person with no previous shooting experience…and in so obvious a state of agitation…was not to be trifled with in his view. Harley knew, now, Eileen was capable of desperate behavior. Adding a pistol to the mix––and an automatic pistol at that––did not bode well for any sort of negotiation.

  Even so, Harley still thought he’d done the right thing back at his Aunt Willie’s place, and he intended to help Eileen if he could. This, despite the niggling suspicion there might be some kernel of truth in Billy Red Clay’s allegations. There wasn’t a whole lot of time left to rethink the thing––not to mention the possibility of making an already sketchy predicament even worse. He knew Thomas and Charlie would come after them with some sort of rescue in mind––at least for him. Billy Red Clay, on the other hand, probably wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Eileen should he think the situation warranted it. Harley certainly didn’t want to see that happen. He eyed the folded blanket under the food basket and carefully considered his options.

  After only a short distance, Harley was able to pick a way down a crooked trail––possibly an abandoned stock drive––into the bottom of a long draw. Heavy brush, tall greasewood, and sage grew along each side of the narrow track, at times crowding right up against the sides of the truck. It was difficult going and he winced as they eased through the dense thicket. Charlie’s paint would suffer for this––something the investigator would not likely forget, or forgive, not in any reasonable amount of time.

  Without warning, Eileen motioned for him to stop, and with such an urgent look on her face that Harley thought, for a moment, she meant to shoot him right then and there.

  “Give me the keys, Harley!” Eileen reached for them as she spoke.

  Is this it? Is this the way it will end? Harley’s hand inched toward the folded blanket.

  “I have to GO, Harley! You know what I mean?” Eileen opened the door and moved into the brush.

  Harley watched her disappear into head-high greasewood and reached into the folds of the blanket next to him to remove the hidden ‘Long Colt.’ After assuring himself the old revolver was, indeed, loaded, he concealed it in the side-pocket of the truck’s door, and then clicked on the two-way. After a few seconds of crackling and popping, the radio warmed to a remarkable clarity and Harley heard the strained voice of Billy Red Clay calling for assistance from his damaged patrol unit.

  “Roger that, base…we are about…sizzle, pop, crackle…”

  Apparently, Billy’s radio was unable to maintain any sort of contact even with those state agency vehicles manning the checkpoint. Agent Smith, he was sure, didn’t know Billy’s exact location or how to get there without some additional direction.

  Billy tried again and again, but with even less success each time, and soon he was left with nothing more than static to reward his effort. Harley guessed the Navajo policeman was working his two-way radio while Thomas or Charlie hiked to retrieve the distributor parts for the trucks. They were going to be some unhappy boys when they did get on his trail. Harley listened, impressed that Billy’s battery had lasted as long as it had. A two-way on transmit sucks up a lot of power and would sap a battery rather quickly from what he’d seen. He, on the other hand, was probably not so far off and he might be able to answer the FBI man himself, but at this point, couldn’t think of any reason he should. It was probably best he remain silent––at least until he could get a finer sense of Eileen’s thinking. He fiddled with the squelch and wiggled the fine-tuning knob but still could hear nothing beyond static and the whistling moan of atmospheric interference.

  Eileen May was nearly back to the vehicle before Harley noticed her coming and quickly hung up the microphone. He left the radio on, but silenced it with the squelch until such time as reception improved. Eileen took a long look around before getting in the truck, reassessing her thinking in regard to their next move. She settled herself in––keeping the automatic handy between her legs––and taking the kinder tact of asking Harley Ponyboy if he wanted to eat a little something before they went on. Not waiting for a reply, she whisked the blanket from under the food basket and tossed it in the back seat. “Let’s see what we’ve got in here?”

  Harley eyed the basket and was pleased with his foresight in removing the revolver.

  “There’s not much in here that I can see, but that’s all right I’m sure you’ll think of something should we get really hungry.”

  “I appreciate your confidence on that, Eileen. Thomas brought some canned goods in the toolbox from his house. There’s a water jug in the back seat, too, and Ch
arlie always keeps a few emergency supplies back there. I’m sure we’ll be fine for a while yet.”

  Eileen brushed this aside, concentrating instead on unwrapping and passing him one of the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches Willie had packed. She then turned to pull the water jug up front and sat it between them.

  Harley glanced across at her. “You might want to put that gun on safety, Eileen. Those automatics are known to go off pretty easy from what I’ve heard.”

  Eileen made no move to adjust the gun’s safety. “I’ve been thinking, Harley––what if we just waited them out right here? There’s only the top of the truck showing from the air. We could easy break off a little brush to cover that. We’d be pretty much invisible then and we would damn sure be well hidden. I doubt they’ll keep those roadblocks up forever. What do you say?”

  Harley thought about this new plan and had to admit the idea had merit as long as the food and water held out, and no one stumbled upon them by accident, which he deemed highly unlikely. “I guess it might work, Eileen. The law might eventually figure we made it out another way and head a different direction with the search.” Harley didn’t really think the FBI would give up quite so easily as that, but who could say­­? He'd personally seen them do stranger things. In any case he had little in the way of an alternative plan, especially since Eileen had not warmed to the horseback idea. He munched his peanut butter and jelly and sipped from the communal lid of the water jug, all the while throwing Eileen the occasional little smile. This obvious change in her attitude offered hope and he couldn’t help having positive thoughts regarding the two of them. Harley, ever the optimist, again found himself on life’s brighter path.

  19

  Armageddon