by Aimée
“Morgan must have been shot by one of the men below, then went over the edge,” Clifford said. “I can’t see him. There’s an awning, then a truck below that.”
“Get back,” Ella whispered, running over to where he stood, intending to pull him behind cover. “You’re too exposed near the edge.”
She was less than three feet away from Clifford when a flicker of movement caught her eye and made her look beyond him. Morgan was on the porch-style roof of the loading dock a few feet lower than they were, huddled against the building. His pistol was swinging around toward Clifford and he had a clear line of fire. There was no way he could miss.
With Clifford in her way, Ella couldn’t fire. Instead, she dropped her shotgun and shoved Clifford to the side hard with both hands. Clifford, taken by surprise, stumbled on a projecting vent pipe and fell over the edge of the parapet.
Ella took the bullet meant for her brother squarely in the chest. The impact pushed her back, spun her sideways, and she fell onto her knees, gasping for breath, right next to the roof’s edge. The doubled protection of the vests had stopped the round as she’d hoped, but her chest felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. Still on her knees, she struggled to pull out her pistol. The pain was excruciating.
Morgan’s attention had shifted back to Clifford, who’d rolled off the awning and landed on the roof of the van parked directly below them. Both he and Manuelito, who was climbing up to help him, were sitting ducks.
She’d only get one shot now. Still trying to catch her breath, she aimed and squeezed the trigger. The bullet hit Morgan in the center of the forehead. He trembled from the shock, then pitched forward, and fell onto the roof. There would be no need to verify he was dead.
Ella glanced back at her brother, and saw Sergeant Manuelito beside him, aiming his pistol directly at her. From their angle, neither could have seen Morgan, and all they were aware of was that someone had fired another shot.
“It’s all right. He’s dead,” she managed, lowering her weapon. Gasping, she finally managed to catch her breath again.
“Who?” Manuelito yelled.
“Morgan.”
“I know. I shot him a minute ago when he started to leap onto the trailer roof. But why did you push your brother off the roof?”
“I didn’t do it on … and you didn’t shoot—” She shook her head. “Never mind. We’ll sort it out later. We still have work to do.”
Grabbing her shotgun with a groan, Ella slid down onto the loading dock roof and moved to a position where she could bring plunging fire onto the terrorists who were still in action. One blast of her shotgun was enough to convince the remaining two men to give up.
SEPTEMBER 17TH
Ten minutes later, the wounded were being tended, and the bodies of the terrorists who’d died were being photographed by the crime team. Fortunately, none of the officers suffered any serious wounds, thanks to their vests and Big Ed’s vicious crossfire, which had kept the terrorists pinned down most of the time.
Ella located Landreth, unarmed and alive, hiding in his office behind the remaining anthrax contaminated shipping boxes, and turned him over to state police officers now on the scene.
Big Ed called for a Haz Mat team from the county. “Until I’m certain that this place is safe, no one except those in protective clothing will have further access to this place,” he told everyone there.
“With all the deaths here, no one will come near this place again anyway,” Ella said, approaching him.
“That’s true. Not even a Blessingway will make this place feel safe again. The land here has seen too much.”
Ella took in the scene, watching her officers help carry the wounded to awaiting ambulances. “Chief, after this is over, I’m going to take a few days off.”
“It’ll have to wait. We still need you,” he said. “Harry Ute just gave me notice today—make that yesterday—afternoon. He’s joining the marshal’s service.”
“I know, but I’ll still need a day or two to settle some personal business. Then, next spring I’ll be taking maternity leave.”
Ella saw Big Ed’s jaw drop. Moving away quickly before he could gather his thoughts and deluge her with questions, Ella left to find Clifford.
She finally found him standing in the parking lot, beside the emergency vehicles, where others were being checked over. “Are you all right?” she asked. One of the EMTs had loaned him a cane and he was leaning on it heavily. “Thank goodness for that awning.”
“My leg…”
“Let me take you to the hospital.”
He shook his head. “You know better.”
“If it’s a broken bone—”
“I’ll handle it my way.” He gave her a long, thoughtful look. “But tell me. Why did you shove me like that?” There was no condemnation in his eyes, just confusion.
Though Ella kept her gaze on her brother, she could sense that the other officers around them also awaited her reply.
“Morgan was still up there, hidden, and he was about to shoot you. I couldn’t fire at him because you were in my way. I had two vests on, and knew they would protect me, so I pushed you aside. I didn’t think you’d stumble and fall over the edge, really.” She opened her jacket and showed him the bullet hole and where the round had imbedded in the kevlar.
“I understand now,” he said. As he glanced around, he saw most of the others nodding their heads. “They believe you, too,” he added in a soft voice, moving farther away from the crowd. “But not everyone will. I know you saved my life, but some will only remember, that you pushed me off the roof. Remember, nobody saw Morgan trying to shoot me but you.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that. People will believe whatever they want, no matter what I do or say,” Ella replied. A few of the old traditionalists would now become convinced that she had turned to evil, but what hurt most was knowing that some people would actually believe she was capable of trying to kill her own brother.
“My fellow captive,” he said, referring to Ben, “will also tell others how you chose to leave us behind when you were only one locked door away from rescuing us. Everything that happened here today will be seen as evidence that the legacy still holds true. They’ll see your child as part of it as well.”
“Kevin Tolino is the baby’s father, and he’s already told his family.” Ella wasn’t surprised that Clifford had guessed she was pregnant, even though she hadn’t told him yet. Her brother was remarkably intuitive.
“That’ll answer questions of paternity,” Clifford said, “particularly if he doesn’t want to hide the fact, but there’ll be other problems waiting for you there.”
“Because they’re our clan’s watchers? That’s being taken care of. Kevin will handle his family,” she said. “I’ll provide for my baby and see to it that she has everything she needs.”
“And what about acceptance?”
“I’ve lived through these kinds of problems before. Not everyone will turn against me. Some traditionalists will but, in time, people will see that I’m just a cop, one who works very hard for the good of the tribe.”
“You’ll have to prove yourself to everyone all over again, just like when you first came back to the Rez.”
“Then that’s the way it’ll have to be, but I’ll expect you to help me bring out the truth. People will listen to you.”
“I’ll do my best, Sister, but, in this case, the truth is a matter of who people choose to believe, and of interpretation.”
Ella nodded. “I’ve always been the type not to worry about things I can’t do anything about but, in this case, I don’t think I’ll be able to do that. The deck is stacked against us, and there are too many frightening possibilities.”
* * *
Ella sat at home with her mother the following morning. The Haz Mat team had declared there was no anthrax leak at LabKote, but a Blessingway would be done for her and the baby soon. Modern science had no assurances to give her, only more questions.
She still wasn’t s
ure if she’d been exposed to the radiation, and the uncertainties haunted her nightmares. Landreth had admitted to knowing about the accident, but said Hansen had been responsible. No other details were available now, because Hansen’s report on the incident had been deliberately erased from the computer files.
“You know the baby will be fine,” Rose assured, patting her hand. “Trust your instincts, Daughter.”
“I know she’s okay, Mother, I just don’t know how I know and that’s unsettling.”
“It’s not necessary that we understand the hows and whys. Just accept that you do know.”
Ella stood at the window, staring at the stark contrast between the blue sky and the mesa in the distance. It was another cool fall day and, for now, there was peace. She placed a hand on her stomach, wondering how many more weeks it would be before she’d feel her child’s first kick. Would that put her concerns to rest?
“But you’re still worried about the child,” Rose said, not needing to make it into a question.
“If there’s anything out of the ordinary about her—whether from the radiation or something else—people won’t understand.”
“Whatever’s different is often condemned as evil, but that doesn’t make it so,” Rose said. “Your child will be loved by us and by your friends. She’ll have enemies, just as we all do, but it will all balance out, and she’ll learn to walk in beauty.”
EPILOGUE
APRIL 19TH
Ella sat on the living room couch, holding her tiny, dark-haired, week-old daughter. She’d been born at home and, in the days before delivery, Clifford had done another Blessingway. Since that ceremony, a feeling of peace had descended over Ella, and it continued unabated even now.
After all, balance had been restored. The anthrax threat had disappeared from news broadcasts months ago, and all known samples of the biological weapon destroyed. The former LabKote facilities had been renovated, and were now being use by an Anglo trucking firm. Most of the truck drivers were Navajo, though few of the Dineh were willing to go into the building itself because of its recent history.
The surviving terrorists were in federal lockups now, and Landreth himself was being kept at an undisclosed location. He’d provided testimony and details of the operation in exchange for government protection from those he’d recently sold out.
Ella closed her eyes, held her daughter close, and bathed in the peace for a moment. She opened them again when she heard footsteps.
“She’s beautiful,” Clifford said, looking at them from the kitchen doorway.
“Yes, she is,” Ella said, wondering how it was possible to love anyone or anything as much as she did this little baby. Looking back at her old life, Ella couldn’t understand how she could have been happy without her.
Ella looked up at her mother and smiled. “It’s time for the ritual. Have you decided on a name for her?” she asked. Although it was customary for the mother of the child to choose the baby’s name, the one people would address her with, the secret name had other origins. Bestowed by a close relative, the secret or war name was considered private property and was never used even by members of the family. It was only evoked in a time of crisis, and was said to provide power to its owner.
Rose looked out the window before replying. Kevin was waiting outside on the porch. “Can’t we just send him away until we name her?”
“Mom, I’ve asked him to wait outside so that he doesn’t hear the baby’s secret name. I’ve only done that because you insisted, but he has a right to be here for the rest.”
Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Look beyond him, Daughter, farther up on the hill. It’s his grandmother, I’ll bet. His own clan doesn’t even trust him,” Rose whispered.
“Because he’s allied with his daughter, and us,” Ella answered. “Maybe.”
“Believe what you will, but I won’t send him away,” Ella said firmly.
Rose sighed, then nodded. “All right, then. I’m ready.”
As Clifford looked on, Ella held the baby up straight.
Rose placed her hand on the child. “My granddaughter, your name will be Deezbaa’ .”
Ella smiled. It was the perfect name. “She Goes Off to War,” Ella said with a nod. “It’s a good choice, Mom. It’ll fit her and the life she’ll have to build for herself.”
“The name Deezbaa’ will also remind her that life is to be met with courage and strength.”
A tiny bit of pollen was placed in the baby’s mouth and Clifford sang a Hozoniji, a Song of Blessing. It was their special protection, a property of their family alone. After he was finished, Ella looked at her mother, then gestured silently to the door.
Reluctantly, Rose opened the door and invited Kevin inside.
Kevin beamed Ella a wide smile as he carried a beautifully decorated wooden cradleboard into the house. The top ends of the board were pointed, signifying it was for a girl. “I made the cradleboard myself, according to tradition,” he said, handing it to Ella. “I carved it from a solid piece of ponderosa pine, bored the holes for the buckskin lacings myself with hand tools, and sanded everything down until it was smooth. I then sprinkled pollen on it and had your brother help me with the proper prayers.”
“A Singer isn’t needed. Your family didn’t help you?” Rose asked.
Ella gave her mother a sharp look, but it was a futile gesture. Rose spoke her mind, and no one had ever been able to stop her.
“I think it was better this way,” Kevin said softly.
“They’re still out there,” Rose said, gesturing outside. “They’ll continue to watch us.”
“But no one will harm any of you, or my daughter,” Kevin said firmly. “You can count on that.”
Rose said nothing.
Ella sighed. “Thank you for the cradleboard, Kevin. I need to feed the baby, but stay, and afterwards we’ll put her in the cradleboard and say the prayers that need to be said.”
Kevin stood. “I’d love to stay, but I can’t. I have other business to take care of,” he said, looking out at the figure in the distance.
“You’re welcome here anytime,” Ella said.
“What will her English name be?” Kevin asked, touching the baby’s face lightly with his finger.
“I’ve named her Dawn, for the prayer that was sung at her birth. That Song says that the baby will have a happy voice and will be an Everlasting and Peaceful baby. In that Song is every hope I have for her.”
Kevin nodded in approval, then left. As the door opened, Rose saw a crowd of people walking up the road toward their house.
“Many will come to see the baby,” Rose said. “Some will do it out of curiosity, others out of love. But we’ll never know which is which.”
“I know.”
“I’m worried about you, Daughter. When you first came back home, you were known as L.A. Woman. No one trusted you. It may be even worse now.”
“I’ll take it as it comes,” Ella said. She was strong enough to face rejections squarely, no matter how they stung, but if anyone came after her child, then they’d see what a bad enemy she could be.
“No one will harm the baby,” Clifford said, as if reading her thoughts. “But their fears will become your greatest enemy, and you’ll have to look closely before trusting anyone again.”
“I’m a cop. That’s the way it always is.” But even as she said that, she knew that things would change. It was the nature of life.
Also by Aimée & David Thurlo
Black Mesa
Second Shadow
Spirit Warrior
Timewalker
ELLA CLAH NOVELS
Blackening Song
Death Walker
Bad Medicine
Enemy Way
Shooting Chant
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.
SHOOTING CHANT
Copyright © 2000 by Aimée and David Thurlo
All rights r
eserved.
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
ISBN 0-312-87061-2
eISBN 9781466828339
First eBook edition: September 2012
