“I’m looking for a friend. Could you tell me if Will Etcitty is still in room two twenty-three?”
The pert blond smiled sweetly. “One moment, please,” she said as she scrolled through her computer monitor. “Oh yes, Mr. Etcitty. He has been moved to the third floor, room three sixteen.” She batted mascaraed lashes that rimmed her sea-green eyes. “You know, you’re the second person in the last hour to ask for him. I remember because the pretty Indian lady seemed in such a hurry, and she looked upset.”
Abe bolted toward the distant stairwell.
“The elevator is right around the corner at the end of the hall,” the receptionist chirped to his back. “Visiting hours end at eight.”
He turned around, found the elevator, and punched number three, drumming his fingers on the wall while it groaned and swished upward. A stop on the second floor had him waiting impatiently in the corner as a couple of interns dressed in green scrubs struggled with a gurney. When the bell rang announcing the third floor, Abe hurried out, saw the arrow and sign that read “Rooms 301–328,” and headed in that direction.
The closer he got to Will’s room, the more hesitant he felt. If he encountered Emily, what would he say to her? He could give her the money, tell her to save it for Will. What if she told him to leave—that she didn’t want to see him? He stood in the hall near the open door, waiting for courage. Finally he entered.
“Who’s there?” The male voice sounded wheezy and unfamiliar. “What do you want?” The eyes of the gaunt figure lying in the bed were shaded by a bony hand. The right hand, swaddled in some kind of skin-colored elastic wrap, rested limply on the sheet. The same type of bandaging covered most of his face. A bag of fluids slowly dripped through a tube attached intravenously to the man’s left arm. There was no one else in the room.
Abe dropped his head, felt a trembling in his lips. Why couldn’t she have waited a little longer? Overcome by sadness and a feeling of defeat, he stared at the inert figure lying on the bed, hoping in desperation that he might have stumbled into the wrong room. Though he had visited a week before, there was nothing familiar about the person who gaped blankly with milky eyes in his direction. “Is that you, Will?”
The man in the bed smiled faintly and let his head fall back on the pillow. A whistling sigh escaped through half-closed lips. “Abe. I dreamt you’d come for me.”
Abe looked at the broken body and tried to reconcile it with the robust man he had known. “Yeah, it’s me, Abe, that freeloading white man. I decided to leave, head on out West, so I wanted to come by and see you first and say good-bye.” Abe exhaled a long, slow breath, then rushed on. “Paco’s taking care of your old Chief until you’re ready for it.” When Will didn’t say anything, Abe continued. “And you have some money coming. It’s a long story, but half of ten grand is yours, hell, all of it, if you want.” Will remained silent. “I’m headed out to California. Emily doesn’t need me anymore, and I’m free to go—as far as the law’s concerned, I mean.” He realized he was blabbering. He couldn’t believe the bigger-than-life Indian had become so ravaged in such a short time. “Christ, Will. I thought you were getting better. Are they treating you all right here?”
“Okay, I guess . . . I don’t need the money, Abe, but maybe Mom can use it. Don’t need my old Chief either. I won’t come out of this hospital alive.” He took several gasping breaths. “Emily left a while ago. You missed her by fifteen minutes. I asked her to take me home, but she said she couldn’t.” Another pause. “Said I had to wait, continue my treatment. She told me Mom was on her way and would stay till they released me. Emily doesn’t understand . . .” The effort of speaking so many words had left him panting. “Abe,” he wheezed, “I’ll be gone before my mother gets here. I have to go home—to Grandfather. If I’m gonna die, I want to die the Navajo way, on my land.”
Abe swallowed hard. He would not see Emily. He couldn’t go chasing after her, and Will wanted the impossible from him. “You’re not going to die, Will. This is the best burn center in the Southwest. You’ll get good care here and be home soon.” But looking at the emaciated body, he didn’t believe his own words.
Will slowly shook his head back and forth. “No. If I stay here, away from my land and people, I will die.”
Abe waited while Will caught his breath.
“I’m almost blind, I can hardly breathe, but I know what I feel inside. I want to go home,” he gasped. “A blessing from Grandfather before . . .” His words were lost in a coughing fit as tears filled his eyes.
“But, Emily . . .” Abe began.
Will drew in a deep, rasping breath before he spoke. “Emily is hardened by things that have happened to her. She’s afraid to face the truth, so she closes her heart as well.” He stopped, waiting for his breath to return. “Take me home, Abe. I beg this of you. Don’t let me die in this place.”
Abe shook his head vigorously. “Uh-uh, no, Will. I can’t do it. If I take you out of here you might die before you reach your grandfather’s. You need to have those fluids, the antibiotics, skin grafts, all the medicine they’re giving you. And what about the pain? Hang in there, buddy. You’re going to make it.”
“Damn it, Abe.” Will made a sudden movement and jerked the IV tube from his arm. “I’m goin’ home, if I have to walk.” He struggled to sit up and move his legs to the side of the bed, but the effort became too much, and he fell back, his breathing ragged and gurgling. “Help me,” came out in a hoarse whisper.
Abe rushed to the bedside, panic causing his heart to pound. He raised the head of the bed so Will reclined in a more comfortable position and could breathe easier, and reached for the bell to ring the nurses’ station.
Will pushed his hand away. “Don’t call anyone.”
“You’re not going to die, Will.” Even when he said the words out loud Abe didn’t know if he believed them or not. He had been a conflicted man for a long time. He hated to kill anything, yet he had killed Sharon, the person he loved most. Did he run away from New Jersey to escape that memory or to somehow seek redemption? And if Will died at his hands, he would have another death on his conscience. He looked at his Navajo friend, saw the pleading in his eyes, and understood the connection Will had with his land. He believed him. As long as he remained in this sterile hospital, his friend would not heal, and Abe would never find peace by running away.
He scanned the room and saw a wheelchair against the wall. Could he possibly get Will past the nurses’ station and out the door? He gently wrapped Will’s body in sheets and tried to lift him into the wheelchair. Will stood a good six inches taller than Abe, and though he was much thinner now, it was like lifting a deadweight. “Sorry, pal. Let me know if this hurts.” Abe carefully positioned the man’s feet and arms on the rests.
A semblance of a smile took shape on Will’s cracked lips. “Ahéhee’. Baa ahééh nisin, díidí,” he whispered.
Abe didn’t understand the words, but he knew they had something to do with thanking him. He pulled the sheet partially over Will’s head, concealing his face, and after checking the hallway in both directions, wheeled him out the door.
Ten feet from the elevator he ran into a heavyset red-headed nurse with a name tag reading: “Hilda Sorenson, ICU Supervisor.”
“Excuse me. Where are you going with that patient?”
“Oh, just taking him back to his room. My uncle wanted to get some fresh air. Then he fell asleep.”
The nurse frowned, started to respond, but was interrupted by a flashing red light and beeping sounds. “You aren’t supposed to take patients out of their rooms without permission. Make sure you ring for the nurse to help get him back into bed,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried down the hall.
Abe took the opportunity to duck into an elevator.
Once the door closed, Will lifted his head, pulled himself up straighter, and managed a feeble grin.
He’s trying to put up a good front, but he’s in terrible shape. I hope he can handle this. Will, you b
etter hang on until I get you home, buddy. I can’t deal with another death on my conscience. Abe shook his head. “I should take you back for trying to pull one over on me,” he said kiddingly.
“No. Keep going. I meant it when I said I’d die if I had to stay. Food’s terrible,” he rasped. “I’ll starve to death.”
Although he said it in jest, Abe knew he was serious. “Shit. If you die on me, I’ll be back in jail, you know.”
“I want to go home, that’s all. Grandpa will understand.”
“That’s where we’re going. Hang on.”
By the time the door of the elevator opened on the main floor, Will had dropped his head down again. Abe paused in the open doorway, looking both directions. When he saw the receptionist distracted by a group of visitors, he made his move. Pushing the wheelchair as quickly as he could, Abe dashed for the exit. In less than a minute they were beside the Toyota.
Abe opened the passenger door, mumbling to himself. “I don’t know why I’m doing this, damn it. Here, let me help you.”
Will pushed himself to a standing position. He wavered, his hands shook, but his voice remained resolute. “I can manage.”
They left the wheelchair in the parking lot. Abe drove back to the highway and headed north, away from the flat desert of Phoenix and toward the mountains of Flagstaff.
30
Abe sensed more than saw the change in landscape as they climbed toward Flagstaff. Clouds obliterated the moon, but he felt the closeness of towering rock formations and tall pines. Will drifted off to sleep almost immediately. To Abe, each rattled breath from the dozing man sounded like a gasp for life, and further convinced him that Will’s recent show of bravado had taken a toll. Fortunately, Abe still had the pain pills from his stay in the hospital in case Will needed them.
They were outside of Flagstaff and Abe had pulled over to check the map when Will’s head jerked up.
“We’re close to Navajo country,” he said.
“How do you know? You’ve been sleeping the whole time.”
“I can smell the mutton stew,” he rasped. “Take the exit for I-40 east.” Will paused, breathing heavily before resuming. “It’ll be a little ways further. You’ll see a turnoff for Winona. Follow it. Less chance of someone finding us on that highway.”
The effort to speak brought on a coughing spell. Abe glanced at his friend to make sure he was all right. He had planned on following the route to Tuba City and then on to Farmington, and started to tell Will that it would be quicker that way. But when he looked at him, the Navajo repeated his wish to take the slightly longer route.
Abe followed the sign for the Winona exit.
As the two-lane highway stretched away from Flagstaff, traffic thinned until there was nothing to be seen but an occasional distant twinkle of lights. Somewhere between Leupp and Dilkon, Will stirred and opened his eyes.
“Head toward that light.”
“What light?”
“Doesn’t matter. Any one of them. The first one you see.”
Abe spotted a dim glow a mile or so off the road on the right. “Do you know someone out there?”
“I know everyone out here,” Will whispered. “This is the home of my father’s clan. Slow down so you don’t miss the road.”
Abe had not encountered a single vehicle on this deserted stretch of highway. He brought the truck to a crawl and scanned the side of the road for any sign of a turnoff. Slowing at a break in the tumbleweed, he discerned rutted tire tracks that appeared to lead in the direction of the distant light. Overcome with doubts concerning the wisdom of following this path, he told Will, “I don’t think we should stop anywhere until we get to your grandpa’s place.”
Will caught his breath after a spasm of coughing. “We have to stop here, Abe. I mean it. My people, they’ll help me make it the rest of the way.”
Abe glanced at his passenger and pulled onto the dirt road. “Okay, but I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “I hope this won’t take long. We should keep moving.”
“When you get in front of the hogan, honk your horn. That’s the Navajo way to announce yourself. Somebody will come out to see what’s up.” Seemingly exhausted from the strain of so much talking, Will closed his eyes and, breathing heavily from his mouth, let his head fall forward.
Abe thought Will had passed out. He drove slowly over the bumpy road, trying to avoid the numerous potholes, not wanting to jostle Will’s injured body, wishing he had remembered to give him pain pills earlier.
As soon as they neared the single light, a skinny brown dog materialized out of nowhere, barking and snarling at the tires. Abe slowed so as not to hit the feisty mutt, who ferociously defended his territory. Once in front of the small hexagonal house with conical roof, he stopped behind an old Ford pickup, gave the horn three sharp blasts, and waited while the dog continued to leap at the window. Patch stood up, growling and baring his teeth in defense.
Someone pulled a blanket away from a window and Abe spotted a woman and three children peering back at him. Next, a man holding a lantern pushed open a door and stepped out. He shouted something in Navajo and Will lifted his head, responding in same. The man and woman came over to the truck to welcome their visitors, the children scampering after them. One boy, a toddler, and the girl shyly hid behind their mother’s long skirt, stealing peeks when they thought no one was looking, while the older boy stood at his father’s side. When the man held the lantern up to Will’s face, the boy jumped back, his eyes wide. The father said something to him in Navajo, and the boy nodded solemnly, then returned to flank his father, his eyes cast downward.
No wonder they’re scared. Will must look like a spirit from the dead to these people. He had no clothing except for the hospital gown and his swaddling of white sheets. His face, wrapped in bandages, had a ghostly sheen when the light from the lantern illuminated it.
Abe felt like the character in a science fiction novel he had read as a kid, Stranger in a Strange Land. He didn’t know how the Navajo would react to his presence, and especially to his having taken Will from the hospital. He didn’t have to think long, because when Will introduced him to his cousin on his father’s side, Charlie Tsosie, and Charlie’s wife, Betty, she beckoned for him to follow her into the hogan. He protested that he would rather stay in the truck with his dog, but she would have none of that. So Abe and Patch traipsed behind the round-faced woman, into the stick-and-mud house. Charlie helped Will out of the truck, and the boy fetched a rope to tie the brown dog in the sheep pen.
The night loomed, cold and cloudless, but inside the hogan was warm and inviting. A cooking fire blazed in the center of the structure, and Abe could smell mutton simmering in the cast-iron pot set atop a grill. Despite his discomfiture, his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten since the morning and growled in protest. He still didn’t understand why Will remained outside, lying on a pallet of wool blankets while Charlie built a nearby fire.
Betty stood over the cooking pit, heating a kettle of water as smoke rose through an opening in the roof. Surprising him, she asked, “Do you think our cousin will die?”
She spoke in halting English, but with the same melodic cadence as Emily. “I don’t know,” Abe said. “We need to reach his grandfather’s place near Huerfano. Do you know where that is?”
Her placid face showed no emotion as she handed him coffee poured from a blackened percolator and answered with a nod and simple, “Aoo, yes.”
Abe’s eyes skimmed the one-room interior of the hogan. There were few furnishings: a couple of trunks, a loom with a three-legged stool, a table and chairs, pallets for sleeping. But the space had a roomy, comfortable atmosphere. The young girl and toddler sat on a mattress covered by wool blankets near the mud-plastered wall. They were as silent as shadows, busy giving Patch bites of food that he appeared to relish. The woman ladled stew into a bowl and handed it, along with a shy smile and piece of sturdy bread, to Abe. He thanked her and watched as she returned to the fire to drop her
bs into a steaming kettle.
The man, Charlie, entered the room and took a bundle of sage from a cache hanging on the wall.
“How’s Will?” Abe asked. “When is he coming in?”
“He will sleep under the stars tonight,” Charlie said. He then turned his attention to his wife. “Is the tea ready?”
She answered again with a barely audible aoo and poured pungent-smelling liquid into a mug. After she handed it to him, along with a bowl of stew broth, the man went back outside. A short time later, Abe heard the sound of a soft rhythmic drum, and caught the whiff of burning sage intermixed with fragrant piñon smoke from the campfire.
The older boy entered the hogan and served himself stew and bread. He sat on the floor a short distance from Abe and began eating. Abe caught the boy casting furtive glances his way. “Hi. My name’s Abe Freeman. What’s yours?”
“Joey Tsosie.” The boy kept his voice low and his head bent over the bowl while wiping his mouth with one hand.
He looked to be around ten years old and had the same somber eyes as his mother and rangy limbs as his father, with long raven-black hair tied in a ponytail. His command of English seemed more assured than that of his parents.
“Joey, why doesn’t your dad bring Will inside? It’s getting cold.”
“He has blankets and a warm fire. It’s better to be outside if he must die. His chindi, his spirit, will be free. If he dies inside, we will have to move from our home and burn the hogan.” The words tumbled out, probably more than he intended to say, so he ducked his head and turned away, eating in silence while Abe pondered the boy’s words.
If Will died, how would he explain things? Emily would demand to know why he took him from the hospital. Abe felt the old familiar sense of inadequacy, of never doing the right thing, a feeling he had fought against all his life. He rushed outside with every intention of loading Will into the truck and taking him back to the hospital, but when Charlie Tsosie saw him and raised a warning hand, he stopped. Will lay on his pallet draped in a colorful woven blanket, his upper body propped against a bundle of wool. Will’s eyes were lifted to the stars as he chanted softly. “Hózhó náhásdlíí, hózhó náhásdlíí’ . . .” He looked so much at peace that Abe turned back.
Key Witness Page 18
