The Navajo policeman continued, “The FBI, of course, zeroed in on Jimmy John in Erdric’s murder from the first, and would like to tie him to the Hoffman killing too. That would make a nice little package.” He shook his head, “They’re saying they’re close to an announcement in the cases. But no one at Tribal has a clue as to what that announcement might be. Their reports have trailed off to nothing lately. It’s getting a little frustrating.”
Charlie had been taking all this in but the only new information he’d heard was concerning Martha Keyoni, and he thought her involvement would be a stretch by any reasonable measure. They were missing something important somewhere, and he had the odd feeling he was the one who dropped the ball; upon reflection, he thought he knew where he dropped it.
~~~~~~
Sue Hanagarni-Yazzie was a woman of action, as was Lucy Tallwoman When they met in Farmington for some shopping and a quick breakfast at McDonalds, it was to let the kids play in the children’s section, while they talked about the murders they thought were affecting the hozo of so many. They were thinking people seemed more wary, and even those who’d known each other for years were now suspicious of one another. Many felt the mysterious death of Danny Hat was surrounded with an aura of witchcraft, an idea that was spreading.
Luanne Keyoni had been to see Paul T’Sosi several times in the last week, but neither she, nor Paul would say why. The woman did, however, manage to corner Lucy each visit, in regard to what she might have learned from Thomas or Harley.
When Lucy got around to asking Sue if she’d told Charlie her secret, she studied her friend’s face and was struck by the total lack of emotion. “I think it’s time you told him you’re pregnant. I know there were a lot of problems with Joseph Wiley, but this time will be different––you’ll see.” She looked over at her stepchildren. Ida Marie was at the top of the slide and waving to her. She smiled and waved back at the girl, then became serious again. “You are going to start showing soon anyway. Better to tell him now and get it over with.”
“Really? Will it be different next time? That doctor said the same thing that happened with Joseph Wiley could happen again. I know you think it was a curse that caused it all. But even back then, Charlie said he didn’t think it was safe to have another child––curse or no curse. I think he’s still afraid something could go wrong.” She paused, “Too late now though.” Then followed her friend’s gaze and watched as Joseph Wiley laughed as Caleb Begay held him up for their inspection; the front of his pants was wet.
~~~~~~
Thomas Begay and Harley Ponyboy had hardly finished washing the breakfast dishes when there came a faint shout from the parking area. The men looked at one another and both frowned. Thomas dried his hands on a towel and moved toward the door. Harley turned and followed, wiping his hands on his pants as he came. Thomas shaded his eyes against the morning sun but waited for his friend to make any final assessment. Harley stared down at the pickup truck for only a moment before murmuring, “looks like a woman ta me…by herself too.” He threw up his hands, “Oh, hell, it’s Martha Keyoni, now what?” He didn’t know if he was up to a round with Luanne’s mother.
Thomas normally would have taken charge at this point, but deferred to Harley due to his ties with the Keyoni family. “Do you think we should go down there…at least keep her away from the site? That burial is still open you know.”
“Naa, let her come up here if she wants ta talk ta someone so bad.” Harley hoped she would just go away, but knew that wasn’t likely. He’d known Martha since he was little; she wasn’t one to back down. He had never liked the woman, even as a child. She had always seemed a little mean natured in his view. She even tried to turn Luanne against him when she thought they were becoming romantically inclined. After thinking about the open burial for a moment he said, “Crap!” and started down through the rubble, Thomas, grinning now, was right behind him.
“Harley Ponyboy, you sonofabitch!” Martha yelled as they drew nearer, “What do you think you’re doing to my people up there?”
They were closer now and Harley’s face was grim as he narrowed his eyes at the woman and held up a hand. “Now Martha, you know we have a right ta be here––we’re only doin’ our job. The professor ain’t here right now. If you got questions you better come back later and talk to him.” He could hear Thomas chuckling behind him but still was glad to have the backup. He knew Thomas would explain it to her in more serious terms if she didn’t go away. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. There was still a possibility he and Luanne might someday get together after all this was over, though he could see the chances of that growing slimmer by the minute.
Martha Keyoni glared at them both, and edged a few steps closer. Thomas Begay stepped in front of Harley then and put both hands out in front of him. “Mrs. Keyoni,” he said gently, “I understand you are upset right now…but I think it would be best to do what Harley says and come back when the professor is here,” Thomas advanced a step further, “Otherwise I may have to do something that will put us both in jail.” He said all this quite calmly while looking the woman directly in the eye, a thing he preferred not to do. Something in Thomas’s manner alerted the woman to some hidden sense of danger in the man and she hesitated then backed off a step.
“I’ll be back!” She said fiercely, and turned to her truck. Martha Keyoni put the truck in gear, and as she glanced back at the two men couldn’t help feeling she had just escaped a situation that could have turned out much worse.
Thomas Begay had never assaulted a woman in his life, but then Martha Keyoni had no way of knowing that.
After Martha was well up the road Harley walked over to where her truck was parked and examined the tire tracks. “This isn’t the same truck that was up here in the middle of the night.”
16
1075 A.D.
Rain
After their confrontation with the wolves, life in the village gradually settled back into a more familiar pattern. Despite dwindling stores, most thought things were looking up. The elders rationed food but thought there would probably be enough to see them through. As the deer, thin though they were, followed the snow line back up the mesa, the hunters managed to bring a few down and that helped.
Spring brought rain in quantities not seen in several years; if it continued it might prove enough to fill the newly repaired dams, and small reservoirs. As the snow went off the mesas work began on the ditches. People made ready to plant, meeting in the kivas for ceremonies that gave thanks. Word eventually filtered in from the south that the larger towns had not been so lucky; the rain avoided them and they faced even harsher conditions than the last season.
The boy’s sister was now called a seer. She had foretold the return of the rain and smaller things some people had forgotten; she was held in ever-higher esteem. She and her old father were allotted a more generous share of the remaining food. People brought rabbit fur blankets to keep her warm, and a few supple deer hides for her bed. Still her condition worsened and the boy thought only the healing warmth of the sun could help. He prayed to the Gods she would hold out long enough to take advantage of better weather. His new wife knew something of herbs, how to make potions with healing properties, and she applied this knowledge in an effort to keep the girl going. She went each day to grind their corn and make hot soups and stews that brought some measure of comfort. Still the girl grew weaker, causing her father to worry and work even harder to make his daughter comfortable.
And so it was that winter passed into spring and warmth returned once again to the canyon lands. The few young boys left to the clans scoured the upper canyons for anything edible. They brought home rabbits, ground squirrels, and other small creatures. The orphan girl joined the boys, and it was she that frightened a hen turkey from her nest and discovered a clutch of newly hatched young, caught some, and brought them back to the village. An old man built a pen at the back of the alcove and saw to their care. The liquid chirp of the poults was music to the ear
s of the old people who knew there would eventually be eggs and feathers to weave into blankets. They smiled upon the girl who brought the birds causing the boys of the village to declare they too would find young turkeys, and they did. It then became the boys’ job to find insects and the tender young plants the birds favored. Soon the boys wished they had not found the birds and could again spend their time hunting and exploring the canyons.
The village’s remaining female dog delivered pups, only a few, but they were welcome, and would one day make life easier both for the hunters, and for the boys who would later guard the fields.
Finally, the elders were pleased to see several women were with child, including the boy’s wife, whose rescue the previous fall was already a fading memory. Things had come full circle and the elders were more satisfied with their decision to leave their old home, certain now it had been the right thing to do. The old town with its hectic life and new ways of thinking, new Gods even, was now only a distant memory. It was rumored things had gone from bad to worse there. The new holy men seemed unable to summon the rain as once they had done and warned there might have to be sacrifices…sacrifices of a sort never dreamed of before.
When the young couple’s child was born, it was a boy, and the corn was just peeking from the red dirt of the fields. The corn was a long time coming, planted deep, so its roots would follow the water down. The boy’s wife’s people, industrious builders and farmers, were prospering; a few had already intermarried with the others, together they had built yet another kiva. The little alcove was filling fast and the only direction left was up, but even that space was limited.
It was a warm morning in midsummer when the boy’s father died working in the fields. No one could find a reason for it other than his time had come, and everyone wondered what would now become of his daughter and her predictions. Many depended on her advice and worried now about the future. They buried the old man close by the ruined houses of those who first farmed those plots, and the boy wondered how he would get along without him.
The care of the boy’s sister was taken over by him and his wife, and what with the new baby and work with the crops, their days were long and full. But they were young and strong and didn’t mind the work––it was the same for everyone, the only life any of them knew. The boy’s sister rallied somewhat as the weather warmed, just as she always did, and the boy hoped the change would be a lasting one, just as he always did. The girl remained alert, her predictions, for the most part, accurate. She continued to guide the elders in ways so subtle they thought the ideas were their own.
Occasionally a small band of immigrants from the larger towns far to the south passed through. The old towns had become unbearable they said, with the common people doing more than their share of work and receiving less in return. Some of the travelers even asked if they might stay there and live in the village with them. These people, often from their old town, were told, “No, there is no more room in our village, the fields are unable to support more mouths.” Some pilgrims looked resentful, a few became surly, but in the end they moved on to whatever fate awaited them farther east in the hinterlands.
The boy was well aware that even their own time there was limited, and one day they or their children would have to move on and start afresh. It was the way it had always been, the soil would become depleted despite their best farming techniques. The trees would disappear into firewood and building. And the wild game hunted so incessantly as to be killed out, or forced to migrate beyond their grasp. Life was not sustainable in one place, at least not forever. He thought the secret to living in this country was in knowing when to move on.
By late summer the crops were growing well, the beans and squash were in bloom, and there still was a bit of reserve water left in the holding ponds. The people were guarded in their outlook, but many thought the worst might well be over. And for a while at least, the rain continued to work it’s way up from the south and west, and life was as good as could be expected. Rumors from the far settlements reported the wandering tribes of the north were quiet and not causing concern in the borderlands; some said those people had followed the game to the great middle parks in the mountains––to make meat. Everyone knew that might change very quickly and were ever on their guard.
The boy and his wife often spoke of her cousin, who fought so valiantly to rescue her the previous year. She said it was probably the blood of the holy men from the south that caused him to be so big and so fierce a fighter. Probably, that was what alienated him from the others. In death, he had finally gained acceptance and his name was praised among his people. Except for the girl’s mother the couple’s parents were dead and buried now, and her mother, too, seemed to be failing. They thought the orphan girl would eventually come to live with them, and help with her husband’s sister. She hoped the young girl would eventually learn something from the seer, and possibly even develop a talent for manipulating the elders as the seer herself had done. The girl already had a way with people. That was her true power. She would learn the healing herbs and how to prepare them and understand their uses…that too, would stand her in good stead among the clans. The girl had a future that could not be denied.
~~~~~~
It was climbing on toward fall when the seer died, and she was buried in a manner befitting one of her importance. She had been in remarkably good health that summer and her death came without warning, as though she simply could not bear the burden of another winter. Just before her burial was closed the last woman of the Swallow Clan came forward, took off her turquoise amulet, and laid it on the dead girl’s breast, covering it with a shallow bowl from her childhood. At last, she thought, this poor tortured creature will fly with the swallows.
17
The Predicament
Senior FBI Agent Eldon Mayfield paced back and forth and hadn’t said a word in several minutes. Charlie Yazzie is becoming a pain, he thought though he was forced to admit the man had his uses. The Legal Services Investigator seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere on the reservation, while he himself seemed unable to forge a connection with these independent minded people. If it weren’t for his Liaison Officer Billy Red Clay he wouldn’t know what was going on outside his own doors. “So, you say someone’s been messing about Professor Custer’s site?” He paused thoughtfully for a moment, “And Martha Keyoni threatened his workers?” The FBI man pretended to think about this for a further moment before turning to Charlie Yazzie. “Have you spoken to the woman yourself?”
“No, I haven’t, I only know what Harley Ponyboy and Thomas Begay told me…but I imagine it’s about right. They did say they expect more interference from her, if not outright violence. She’s apparently quite upset. They told her to come back when the professor was there, but she never did.”
“Did Thomas Begay threaten her in any way?” Agent Mayfield was familiar with both Thomas and Harley and didn’t think the question unreasonable.
Charlie looked unsure, “Not that they mentioned, but I doubt they would have said anything to me if they had threatened her.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t,” The agent smiled, waved this away, and wearily sat himself down. “What time was this report filed?”
Billy Red Clay thumbed through a folder in his lap, withdrew a complaint form. “The report was filed yesterday afternoon about 1 P.M. according to this.” The policeman was following the words with a forefinger. “Martha Keyoni says she was merely expressing her opinion when the two men became abusive, and that was when Thomas Begay threatened her.”
“Threatened her with what…?” Charlie didn’t doubt for a minute that Thomas might have warned the woman off, but not without provocation.
Billy Red Clay continued running a finger across the page. “She didn’t say. Officer Hastiin Sosi took the complaint. He said she seemed most concerned that they wouldn’t comply with her request to shut down.” He skipped a few lines. “Unc… uh, Thomas Begay, says they were already in the process of shutting down and that
she was the one who became abusive.” Billy smiled, “Thomas Begay is not one to take any guff off anyone, but I doubt he intended her any harm. Had she been a man it might have been different of course.”
Agent Mayfield pushed back in his chair and sighed. “Gentlemen, your report comes a little late. Field Agent Fred Smith arrested Martha Keyoni this morning at 8:30 A.M. for the murder of Karl Hoffman.” The FBI agent was gratified to see the looks of astonishment from the two Navajo, and decided to let this announcement sink in a bit before going on. “Despite what some people think, The FBI is not without its resources. Our people have been working around the clock on these cases and it has now paid off rather handsomely I think.” Mayfield allowed himself a smile of satisfaction, “Federal prosecutors feel the case is a very strong one. We have the murder weapon; it was behind the seat of her truck when we picked her up at work this morning,” He looked briefly at the report, “A .243 caliber hunting rifle. Ballistics say the bullet taken from Hoffman’s body was also a .243. It was a fast expanding hunting round, but enough of the base was left to get a match on the marks from the rifling. I’m betting it will prove to be from Martha Keyoni’s gun.”
Here the FBI agent opened another folder and consulted a paper, before concluding with a grim smile, “Her husband has given a sworn statement she was not at home at the time of the shooting, and that he doesn’t know where she was. He admitted to Agent Smith that she had known for some time about Karl Hoffman’s part in the desecration of ruins along the new highway route and, his part in supplying her son with drugs in return for artifacts.”
Wolves of Winter: A Navajo Nation Mystery Page 16
