A Foreboding Felony

by Constance Barker

  He scowled. “But we don’t really need it for that. It’s all in the box.”

  “Home office doesn’t know that,” Elle told him. “You want a toner cartridge?”

  The man smiled. “Right.”

  “Just fill out a form saying that the reports are waiting on toner, which is waiting on approval.”

  He smiled. “Office politics.”

  “Just common sense. Don't ask. Just help them see it’s essential.”

  He nodded. “So you’ll go investigate. Are you going to need someone to show you around the area?” he asked. “Can you find the race track?”

  She wondered if he was offering his help. He seemed nice enough, but he played things by the book and Elle had a hunch that this was another of those investigations that might not play out exactly as it should. Being impatient, she had a habit of cutting corners here and there. Someone like this might object, or get in the way. Besides, he bored her already. “The track is out by the Mescalero reservation, isn’t it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  She realized he had no real idea and probably had never been that far from Las Cruces. But she knew that Charli Gordon was out here... somewhere. She should be on the reservation by now, tracking down her family. And Roger would be with her. She smiled thinking of the way he was around Charli. His feelings for her were so obvious. Charli was probably the only person in the known universe who wasn't aware that he didn’t just like her, but was completely head over heels in love with her. Elle knew that the man was going to stay as glued to Charli as she’d let him stay. And Elle, Charli’s best and, fortunately, her most devious friend, had his phone number.

  “I have friends who are supposed to be out that way. I’ll get in touch and get them to help out.”

  He nodded. “Indians?”

  “One is.”

  “That could help. It’s the death of an Indian and the tribes don’t always appreciate all the wonderful things white men have done for them.”

  Elle stared at him, incredulous and then saw he was smiling broadly. “Local humor,” he said. “I met the chief of police up there once. Seems like a nice guy. I’m sure they’ll be helpful, as long as you don’t repeat my bad joke.”

  “No chance of that,” she told him.

  Chapter Four

  The Woman of Her Dreams

  “Which way do we head, trail master?” Roger asked. “Your loyal sidekick needs instruction.”

  They’d followed I-25 South, then followed Highway 70 through desolate white sands and then up into the tree-lined mountain community of Mescalero. Most of the town seemed to lie along the main highway, but there were lots of small roads leading off. Charli pointed to a cluster of buildings arranged something like a mall. “Over there. I think that’s the Tribal Administrative Offices and Community Center. Someone there might have an idea how we can find grandmother.”

  As he drove the car into the parking lot, Roger aimed at a parking slot that sat in front of a bench. An old man sat there watching them with a small expression of interest. “Him,” Roger said. He knows.”

  Looking at the man, Charli had her doubts. “Why him?” she asked. “I don’t see an information sign around his neck.”

  “He’s the resident old guy. Most small towns have one,” he said. “They are required to have an old guy who knows everything.”

  “Oh, they are?”

  “Right. They need to have someone who has sat there forever and seen just about everything. And this is him—the guy who knows things.” He held out a hand. “Bet? Loser has to grovel.”

  “Fine,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’ll ask him.” She got out of the car feeling that the old man was watching her with more interest than a tourist asking directions merited. “Excuse me,” she said. “Can you tell me... I mean, it’s silly but would you know where Torre Chinonero lives? I don’t have her address...”

  The man cocked his head and looked at Charli for a time, then broke into a huge grin. “Well, hello Bonita. My, it’s been a long time. You were just tiny the last time I saw you. Your grandmother will be glad to see you. She’s waiting for you rather impatiently, I think.”

  Charli took a breath and refused to give him the satisfaction of asking how he knew who she was. “Waiting for me?”

  He chuckled. “Well, I assume so.”

  “Why would you assume that?”

  “Because she came by here yesterday and said she was expecting you and wanted me to give you directions out to her place.” He nodded at Roger who sat in the car and chuckled. “Perhaps your friend will be a surprise to her, however. She didn’t mention him. But then, Torre doesn’t tell me everything she knows anyway.”

  “So what’s the address?”

  He laughed. “Address? Her house doesn’t have one. That’s why she wants me to give you directions.” He pointed to a road that paralleled highway 70, the road that went on to Inn of the Mountain Gods. “That’s Apache Boulevard. Head out that way. It becomes Indian Service Route 1o. Follow it to Telephone Canyon Road. It only goes to your left. Follow it through the canyon until you see a kowa alone on the left. A kowa can be kind of hard to see, so you’ll need to watch carefully.”

  “A kowa?”

  He nodded. “Yup. I guess they don’t have them back east. It’s the name for a traditional Apache home. She’s got one that was built into the hillside, so you’ll need to look hard or you’ll miss it.” He nodded as if she’d asked a question. “Real old school. Torre is a super traditional woman and more so now than when Duncan was alive.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Thanks for your help.”

  “If you run out of road, that means you missed it,” he said.

  “Okay.” Charli turned and walked back to car somewhat dazed.

  “Got the directions,” she said as she got in. “Now tell me what made you pick that guy?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” Roger asked. “Are you trying to get out of groveling?”

  “Later. First, explain that parlor trick. You drove right up to a man who was waiting for me. A man who knew my name and that my grandmother was waiting for me.”

  Roger laughed. “I’ve got no idea. He just looked the part is all,” Roger said. “See, when you ride into town for the first time and don’t know your way around, it’s only common sense to always ask the grizzled old-timer. Doesn’t matter if he’s a cowboy or an Indian.” Then he shook his head. “You really do need to watch more old Westerns.”

  “Fine,” she laughed. “Pick some out for me.”

  “Will do. So tell me—where are we headed?”

  She smiled at Roger and pointed to the two-lane road running behind the Tribal Administration offices. “That-away.”

  “Off we go,” he said happily. “Back on the trail... of whatever is out there.” To Charli, Roger’s eager acceptance of the baffling could be extraordinary and baffling in its own way.

  And so, they drove slowly, following the man’s directions, winding along roads that led into a canyon. The further they went, the less traffic they encountered. Buildings became sparse clusters. “Your grandmother isn’t big on crowds, I take it,” Roger said. “This is quite a piece out of town. She must have to go miles to get to the nearest karaoke bar or other essential services.”

  “Apparently that’s not an issue for her. Go figure.”

  Suddenly Roger applied the brakes and pulled up in front of something that looked remarkably like a Hobbit house. He pointed at it. “I bet that’s it,” he said. “That’s exactly what I’d guess a kowa looked like, if I had to guess. But I don’t think I have to.”

  “Really?” She tried to unpack that sentence as she stared at the house. Before she managed to decipher its meaning, an older woman came out of the front door and waved at them.

  “There she is now,” Roger said.

  It was almost a shock to see that Torre Chinonero, Charli’s maternal grandmother looked exactly as she had in her dreams. She was just under five feet tall, stou
t without being fat, and intense. Charli started toward her. “Bonita!” she cried. “Bonita,” the woman said again. Clearly, as the man had said, her grandmother had been expecting her.

  She glanced back and saw Roger sitting in the car, giving her space. “Grandmother?” she asked tentatively, suddenly not at all sure if she wanted it to be her or not.

  It was. The older woman reached out a leathered hand to touch Charli’s face. “Child.” The warmth of her hand seemed incongruous; she’d only known her grandmother as a disembodied spirit, but this warmth was real, and it came from something good. “I'm so happy. I never could be certain I’d ever get to see you as a woman,” she said now, her voice soft. "Here you are."

  Then she looked past Charli. Roger had gotten out of the car and walked up to them and stood there awkwardly. “And you, young man, I must thank you for bringing her to me,” she said. “And then I have to ask a favor.”

  Roger shuffled his feet. “Whatever I can do to help...”

  “This might sound uncivil since you’ve just arrived, but I’m going to ask if you will leave my Bonita alone with me for a time,” the old woman said. “I’m sure you are tired, but she and I have so much to discuss, to understand. I have room in my kowa, my home and in my teachings for one. Can you allow me some days alone with Bonita?”

  “Of course I can, If that’s what she wants,” Roger said, giving Charli a meaningful look. She marveled that he didn’t even sound surprised, much less upset.

  Charli sighed. “What will you do, Roger? Where will you go?”

  He grinned. “I’m resourceful, young lady. I can simply make a busman’s holiday out of this.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll go back to Mescalero for the evening. Then I’ll explore the area. I can check out some of the local forestry places and learn what the heck a ranger does when they are stationed in the desert or mountains. I’d like to see their operations.”

  “Really?” Charli asked. “You don’t mind?”

  He nodded at her grandmother. “I’m your sidekick, but you came here for a one-on-one and here’s your chance. If you don’t need the car while you’re here, I can wander down toward Las Cruces by myself. That's where the main office for this region is probably located and wrangle myself an invitation to tour some of the places and talk to people.”

  “If we need to go anywhere, we have my truck,” her grandmother said.

  Roger grinned. “Well, then... you two have a good time. Don’t worry about me. I can keep busy. When you’ve caught up on old dreams and whatever else is important, and you’re ready to move on, just give me a call. I won’t be far.”

  “There is no cell service here, so you won’t be able to reach us, but when she is ready, we will go into town where technology does work.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Roger said.

  The old woman moved toward Roger and reached up to put a hand on his cheek as she had Charli’s. “You are a good man,” she said. “And wise, for one so young.”

  Charli saw Roger blush. “Well, I guess I better get your bag out of the car, Bonita.” Increasingly, he was calling her that without seeming to think about it. She wondered if he was being funny or really preferred it to her other name. Whatever the reason, she’d found it was becoming more familiar to her now, less unsettling.

  Roger brought in the bag, then he kissed Charli. “Call when you need me... or just want to talk.”

  She nodded. "I will."

  He turned to Torre and planted a kiss on Charli's grandmother’s cheek. “Gracias, abuela,” he said. “Maybe you can teach me those words in Apache one day.”

  She smiled. “Well, here is a kickstarter lesson for you. Shiwóyé is the Western Apache word for grandmother,” she said. “Literally, it means her mother's mother. Apache does not have a word for goodbye. When we part ways, we say something like ‘I’ll see you again’ or ‘travel in beauty.’

  “Wonderful sentiments,” Roger said, pleased.

  When he was gone, grandmother (shiwóyé, she reminded herself) smiled at her. “You have a good man, Bonita, and he seems well prepared for the journey.”

  “What journey?”

  The old woman smiled. “The journey of life that lies ahead of you. The journey you've embarked on to learn about your dreaming. Those and many others.”

  That was exactly what she wanted. “Can you teach me to interpret and understand the messages in the dreams, the stories? Often I don’t know what they mean until later.”

  “I can try, Bonita. The meanings have as much to do with how they feel to you as with what you see and hear,” she said. “I can teach you where to start, but then you must listen to this place, to the ancestors speaking to you and let that make sense. No one can interpret the dreams of another with any clarity. Only the spirits provide that.”

  “Sounds difficult,” Charli said.

  “You sound resigned,” Torre said. “You should embrace making the experience whole.”

  Charli considered that. “I suppose I should. I’m just rather nervous about where that leads.”

  Torre laughed. “That’s the joy of the journey... finding out.”

  “I think that you and Roger are going to be fast friends,” Charli told her.

  Her grandmother nodded and then said, “I know. He is a traveler, but he is just finding it out, much to his great joy.”

  Charli stared, open-mouthed. Something in her grandmother’s tone of voice astonished her. It was the sound of certainty. And it was unsettling only because her own uncertain journey, after all, was just beginning.

  Chapter Five

  Dreaming 101

  There was something about grandmother’s kowa that Charli couldn’t put into words, but she could feel. It was an energy that made her aware of... something.

  Charli sat at a wooden table and watched the old woman making tea, then bringing two steaming mugs over and putting them on the table. She smelled mint. Her grandmother sat and a tingle of electricity rippled between them, connecting them. If Charli had never seen this woman before, and met her in a mall in New York, their bond would have told her this was her grandmother.“Did you raise my mother here?” she asked. “In this house, or kowa?”

  Torre shook her head and laughed. “Can you picture your mother in this place?”

  “I can’t, actually. That’s why I asked.”

  “I’m the one who grew up here. After I married Duncan, we moved into a modern house. A rather soulless place, but a concession to his white idea of the right place to raise a family. He wanted to live in a ‘nice house’ which meant it looked like all the others. Years ago my own mother left this kowa to me. We just hung onto it, but once Duncan left me to be with her, I moved back here.”

  “Why? If you had a nice house...”

  Torre looked into Charli’s eyes and Charli thought she could feel a connection to her spirit. It seemed to be reaching out to her. “I had a soulless house. I couldn’t feel my own power and once I was alone I was overwhelmed with the need to regain connection to the spirit.” She tapped her foot on the hard-packed earthen floor. “I needed to regain my power, to draw it from the ancestral place, from this place.”

  “Why was it so urgent?”

  “Because I felt you dreaming and without it I didn’t have the strength to reach you.”

  “I don’t understand,” Charli said, although she was beginning to think she did understand. The story did much to explain the fluctuations of power in her grandmother’s presence in her dreams.”

  “Tanya, your mother, ran from us. She was frightened by the power.”

  “Why did it frighten her?”

  “In college, she began to learn how to control aspects of her destiny. She acquired a taste for that, which is a good thing, but disliked having to relinquish it in other places and times. From what she said, from the times she woke from nightmares, I know she saw your father’s death many times in her dreams, even as a little girl.”

  “But she didn�
�t know who he was?”

  “No. It wasn’t until after she met him that her real fear started to grow. She remembered the dream, but still didn’t know it was the death of the young man she was falling in love with. After they were married, after you were born, she came to me and told me that the dreams were about Kee.”

  “That must’ve been frightening.”

  “She determined that she could change things, control them.” The old woman sighed. “The reality is that dreamers are not shamen. We are observers of the possibilities and of disguised truth. But only Shamen can communicate with the spirits.”

  “And the idea of seeing things that she couldn’t control is what frightened her?”

  “That and the fear of losing Kee. She couldn’t balance the knowledge of dreams with her teachings from college.” She stared into the distance. “There are so many things we’d change if we could.”

  “What would you change?”

  “I’d have fought her father about college. Despite his fondness for Indian ways, and that’s mostly what it was, he had a white man’s view of education and success. He wanted his daughter to walk in both worlds. That’s a challenge too great for most. He thought she would learn and come back and teach, as he had done. But he grew up back east and later became captivated by this world.”

  “Captivated by you,” Charli said, eliciting a thin smile.

  “Tanya grew up amid the poverty here. She was captured by the joys that the white world offered. She wanted more than to be a teacher at a reservation school and had grand dreams. She put them on hold for Kee, to be with him, to have a child with him, but that vision depended on him. When the worst dream she ever had became real, she ran. She wanted distance from us... from me, the one who would teach her to dream.”

  “I never could get her to talk about you at all.”

  “She had nothing to say about me. At least nothing good. I couldn’t offer her any hope when she wanted it. My truth was her nightmare. Not that she blamed me for her dreams, but she blamed me for believing in them and not fighting them. Part of her leaving was her determination to protect you from suffering her fate. She wouldn’t talk about it, about us, because we failed her. Not only did she take you far from me, she also used what she had learned to put up some formidable blocks intended to keep my spirit away.” She grinned. “She was more powerful than she knew, and it took more power than I had to penetrate them. So I came to this kowa and used it’s connection to the earth to gain that. It was not enough to be strong for you, but to be there, to let you know I was here.”