Double Blind

by Hannah Alexander

  Canaan groaned. “I didn’t cry that much. Have a heart, Sheila. A grown man doesn’t like to be reminded of stuff like that.”

  Brief memories flashed through Sheila’s mind of a much-younger Canaan—bending over one of the puppies, crying because it had been abandoned; Canaan crying when a little boy fell from the swing set and broke his arm; Canaan crying for Sheila about something…but this memory didn’t focus.

  “Why do I remember you crying for me?” she asked.

  “You were leaving.”

  “No, before we left. It was…I think you were sorry because I was hurt…or my feelings were hurt.”

  He looked at her. “Do you remember getting into trouble the year before you left?”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  His brow furrowed as he returned his attention to the road. “It seems to me you were talking too much in class.”

  “The only teacher I can remember ever reprimanding me was Doc.”

  Canaan’s brow cleared. “That’s right. It was him. He wouldn’t let you attend one of the track meets with the rest of the team.” He looked at her. “Remember now?”

  The slow emergence of another memory disturbed her. “I was telling stories to the other kids, and he didn’t like them. They were about…” She glanced at Canaan.

  “The wolf,” he said.

  The words struck her with a blast of recognition. “You remember?”

  A muscle clenched in his jaw as he hesitated. “Not totally.”

  “So you’re just guessing?”

  He shook his head. “Not totally.”

  “Canaan.”

  “I don’t remember much, only that you were having nightmares, and then on Friday I discovered that Tanya has been terrified of the Navajo werewolf.”

  “That’s what she’s afraid of?”

  He nodded.

  More memories assaulted Sheila, the harsh ones that had frightened her so badly yesterday, of smoky darkness and a bitter taste in her mouth, and fear of a lurking presence, just out of view, and sharp pain. With the memories came a tightening of her neck and shoulder muscles.

  “You didn’t tell me,” she said.

  “You didn’t need to hear about that.”

  “Then this thing with Moonlight had a lot more significance for all of us than we realized.”

  “Tanya did more than realize it. I think she’s taken it so much to heart that it’s why she’s run away again.”

  Sheila raised the binoculars to her eyes, her mind skittering away from the memories for a moment. She focused the lenses on someone out on the rolling hills ahead and to the left of the road, but as they drew closer it turned out to be a brightly dressed shepherd with a flock of sheep and goats.

  “When we were kids, I remember thinking that you laughed too much,” Canaan said when Sheila lowered the binoculars. “You always seemed happy, and it made you popular with the other kids. I don’t think they ever thought as much about your being white as they did about my being half white. Maybe I was just a little jealous of sharing your friendship.” He glanced at her. “It wasn’t until you stopped laughing that I missed the sound of it.”

  “When was that?”

  “A few months before you left.”

  She looked at him.

  “That was when you got into trouble for talking about the wolf.”

  Sheila remembered then. He was right. The wolf dreams and fear of dogs hadn’t come until after her ninth birthday. “My mother gave me a book about dog breeds for my ninth birthday.”

  “Which means you developed your fear of dogs after that.”

  “What would I have known about the Navajo werewolf?”

  “He is the embodiment of witchcraft,” Canaan said.

  “But I was just a little kid. Where would I have heard about it?”

  “Haven’t you ever sat around a campfire and told ghost stories?”

  Sheila shook her head. “Not that I remember. So you’re saying we probably heard stories from our friends, and I believed them?”

  He sighed, obviously frustrated. “I think there’s more to it than that, Sheila.”

  “For instance?”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to find out.”

  “Do you think Betsy Two Horses might tell us something?”

  Canaan looked at her. “I’ve considered that, but what if she’s part of the problem? I think my grandfather wanted me to take Bob’s place because he knows he can trust me. At this point, I don’t know who else to trust.”

  “You trust me.”

  “You aren’t from here. You aren’t the one who’s causing the problem. I asked Betsy to share some old customs with the kids. Now I’m not so sure that was a good idea. I meant for her to teach practical facts like how our ancestors built homes and cooked and hunted. I think she might have been teaching about the old spirits.”

  “Do you really think Betsy would terrify Tanya with stories about the Navajo werewolf?” Sheila asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Me, neither.” Sheila thought of Tanya, alone out there somewhere. Afraid. Running from…from the same thing Sheila had feared as a child? The same monster that still haunted her through her dreams?

  Canaan slowed at a rough spot on a bridge. The piñon trees grew thickly here. He didn’t resume speed right away, but searched the shadows and the crevices in the ground. No Tanya.

  Canaan slowed the van again when they reached the intersection with state Route 264. He pulled alongside the road and made a U-turn.

  “Where are we going?” Sheila protested. “What about Ganado?”

  “Tanya couldn’t have come this far this morning, and I know she wouldn’t have left the school during the night.”

  “Maybe she hitched a ride as she did last time.”

  “If we don’t find her, we’ll go on to Ganado.”

  They had backtracked almost four miles when Sheila saw a splash of red in one of the low branches of a piñon tree on the hard-packed bank of an arroyo. As they drove over the bridge that crossed it, she turned to get a closer look.

  “Stop.”

  Canaan pulled to the side of the road. Sheila had her seat belt unbuckled and was jumping out as the van came to a stop. It was a red jacket, like the one she’d seen Tanya wearing yesterday morning. As she reached down and untangled it from the tree, her gaze wandered farther down the bank.

  There lay Tanya in the bright sun, her right arm over her head.

  Chapter Nineteen

  C anaan saw Tanya’s body on the ground, saw the blood along her inner thighs and felt sick.

  “Canaan!” Sheila scrambled down the bank ahead of him.

  Canaan reached behind the front seat for the small doctor’s bag he always carried with him and rushed down the hillside.

  “Airway’s clear and she’s breathing,” Sheila called over her shoulder.

  Canaan reached them as Sheila felt Tanya’s carotid artery for a pulse. “Rhythm’s fast, but there. She’s too warm. Dehydration, no doubt.”

  Again, Canaan looked at the blood. So much of it.

  Sheila looked up at him. “Could she be pregnant? This looks like a miscarriage.”

  “No way, not Tanya. There’s got to be another—”

  “The last time I saw this much blood, the woman was having a miscarriage.”

  He knelt at the girl’s other side. “Let’s get her taken care of before we try to diagnose her.” He took Tanya’s hands and squeezed them. “Tanya, can you hear me?”

  Tanya’s long, black lashes fluttered, then her eyes opened wide, and she looked up into Canaan’s face with a flash of terror. “The wolf, Canaan!”

  “What about him? Did someone hurt you?”

  Her face crumpled. She moaned hoarsely, in pain, pressing her hands into her abdomen. “He caught me.”

  “You were attacked?” Canaan exclaimed.

  “No.”

  Canaan bit back a groan of frustration. “Then when did he catch you?”
/>
  Tanya shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Then he couldn’t have caught you, or you would know. What really happened? Why are you bleeding?”

  Tanya struggled to sit up, but Canaan pressed her back. “Don’t move until we know how badly you’re hurt.”

  “I didn’t get hurt when I fell.”

  “You mean you just started to bleed?”

  She nodded. “I was so weak. Please, Canaan, pray at him. Chase him away.”

  Sheila brushed long strands of black hair from Tanya’s face and neck. “It’s okay, honey, he can’t get to you through us.”

  “But he did.” Tears filled Tanya’s eyes. “He already did.”

  Canaan noted the tears with relief. She wasn’t too dehydrated for them. “We’ll talk about this later. First, we need to take care of what’s happening now.”

  “But he did this to me.” Tanya touched her abdomen, and her hand trailed farther down to touch the blood. “This is what happens when…” Her eyes drooped shut and her head lolled sideways in another faint.

  Canaan picked her up and turned to carry her up the side of the arroyo.

  Sheila followed. “I’ll drive.”

  “I’ll drive, you sit with her in the back. We’ll take her to Keams Canyon. It’s the closest hospital. Did you bring your cell phone?”

  “It’s in my pocket.”

  “Call the school.” He gave her Doc’s number. He would also have to call Tanya’s parents, but he didn’t want to do that until he knew what was going on with Tanya. He dreaded that call.

  Preston and Blaze didn’t pull onto I-40 until nine o’clock Sunday morning, after spending the night at a dilapidated roadside motel on the western edge of Amarillo, Texas. Preston was not in a good mood.

  “If we start itching today, we’ll know why,” Blaze said. “The bite of a bedbug is intensely pruritic.”

  “English on this trip,” Preston said. “Stop showing off.”

  “That means if we’ve been bitten by bedbugs, the itching’ll be awful.”

  “The sheets were clean, Blaze.”

  “Doesn’t matter. If bedbugs were in our mattresses, the bugs could have reached us. They’re tiny.”

  “You know, I haven’t had breakfast yet,” Preston reminded him. “I don’t have your cast-iron stomach, and now I’m going to see bugs crawling around on my eggs.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I couldn’t sleep last night, and I don’t need to be reminded about bedbugs. We’d have stayed at a better place if we could have found one, but since our navigator got us lost in Oklahoma City—”

  “How was I supposed to know about the roadwork?” Blaze asked. “They didn’t have good signs. You could’ve stopped and asked for directions, but no, what you really wanted was to make a good reason to miss evening worship at the school. You know we’re not gonna make it until Monday now.”

  “So it’s a good thing we didn’t tell Sheila we were coming.”

  “In spite of bedbugs, I slept like a baby,” Blaze said. “Want me to drive?”

  “After breakfast.”

  “I could use a cruller.”

  “You could use a few salads. Didn’t anybody ever tell you all that unhealthy food will turn to fat someday?”

  “Cheyenne tells me that all the time, but it hasn’t happened yet. I’m still a growing boy.”

  Preston wished he’d been able to find a cup of coffee somewhere at the motel before leaving. Blaze’s chatter was the next best thing to wake him. If only he would turn the volume down.

  “You’re worried about Sheila,” Blaze said.

  Preston didn’t see any reason to deny the truth, but he didn’t see any reason to acknowledge it, either.

  “Did you try praying for her?”

  Preston nodded.

  “Really?”

  “Don’t act so surprised. And don’t talk so loud until after I’ve had coffee.” Preston didn’t think God would answer any of his prayers. Even so, when he’d awakened in the early-morning hours, after sleeping for perhaps fifteen minutes, he had immediately thought of Sheila and said a silent prayer for her safety. It had been much like those he’d prayed as a child for his mother to get well.

  Mom never got well. And now Preston couldn’t help feeling that Sheila was in danger, and it was up to him, not God, to protect her.

  Sheila sank down beside Tanya’s bed in the Emergency Department of the hospital at Keams Canyon. The girl had awakened in the van long enough to swallow some water. Then she had remained weak and listless for the remainder of the trip. Now, with blood tests taken and an exam complete, Canaan had gone to make his dreaded call to Tanya’s parents.

  Sheila checked the IV line to make sure the saline drip was running fast enough. Tanya was dehydrated, though not dangerously so.

  When she turned back, she found Tanya had opened her eyes, and was watching her.

  “How are you feeling, honey?” Sheila asked, automatically touching Tanya’s forehead with the backs of her fingers—not an official medical procedure, but something she had long ago realized patients appreciated—the human touch.

  Tanya licked her lips. “Not as bad. Where are we?”

  “We’re at the hospital at Keams Canyon.”

  Tanya sucked in her breath and tried to sit up. “Why?”

  Sheila reached for her and gently eased her back down. “Relax, it’s okay. We had to find out what was wrong with you. Don’t you remember? We found you unconscious, lying below the road.”

  Tanya squinted as she peered around the room at the stainless-steel cabinet, the privacy curtain and the tray table beside the bed. “White man’s medicine can’t help. He’ll know.”

  Sheila shook away a chill. “Who will know?”

  Tanya glanced toward the curtain. “Don’t say anything in front of them.”

  “But, Tanya, the medicine can help. They’re going to take care of you.”

  Tanya shook her head and sat up. “No, they aren’t. This will just make it all worse. When he finds out—”

  “Listen to me.” Sheila reached for Tanya’s hand, and was reassured by the girl’s firm grip. “What happened to you has happened to a lot of…women, and a wolf didn’t do it.”

  “You don’t understand. You don’t know.” Tanya looked around the room again. “Is it still daylight?”

  “Of course. It’s not even noon on Sunday. You haven’t been out that long. Tanya, did you sleep at all last night?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I don’t think Canaan’s prayers are protecting the dormitory, so I have to stay awake and make sure nobody comes in.”

  No wonder she’d slept all the way here.

  Tanya looked up at Sheila, then down at the turquoise cross Sheila wore around her neck. “Betsy says turquoise can be used as a medicine against bad magic.”

  Sheila reached up and touched the cross. The stone was warm from resting against her skin. “She told you that?”

  Tanya nodded. “Do you wear it to scare him away?”

  Sheila decided not to pretend she didn’t know exactly who Tanya was talking about, or how frightening that wolf was, but she wondered…did Betsy think this pretty stone would have power against a ruthless enemy twenty-four years ago?

  “No, I wear it to remind myself of God’s love when I have trouble remembering.”

  “Maybe it protects you,” Tanya said.

  Sheila hesitated. “Tanya, the test results aren’t back yet, but—”

  “I know what happened to me. The wolf cast a spell.”

  “No, honey, it wasn’t a spell.”

  “Yes, it was. He did it because I tried to run away. I prayed Canaan’s prayer, and this is what happened.” She raised the crisp, white sheet that covered her and looked down. She looked back up at Sheila, surprise obvious. “It’s gone. The blood’s gone.”

  “You were in and out of consciousness. We cleaned you up.” Sheila touched Tanya’s bare, brown arm. “Honey, I know you’ve been told th
e facts of life.”

  Tanya frowned. “I know all that. But this wasn’t just cramps, I know. I’ve had cramps, and they don’t hurt like—”

  “It could have been more this time.”

  “More? You mean there’s more?”

  Sheila hesitated, then leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Are there any boys you like at school, or back home at White Cone?”

  “Why?”

  “I know the boys in your classes probably joke about sex, and I know—”

  “That doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

  “Honey, have you missed any periods? Is it possible you were—”

  A gasp. “You think I’m pregnant!”

  Sheila hesitated, searching for the right words. “Judging by the condition you were in when we found you, it appears you could have been pregnant, but—”

  “You’re wrong. You don’t know me at all.”

  “I know I don’t, and Canaan—”

  “He thinks I’m pregnant?”

  “He’s waiting for the results of the test, which shouldn’t take long.”

  “Good.” Tanya pulled the sheet up around her neck. “Then you’ll see I’m not pregnant. This hospital can’t help me.”

  “Tanya, you know how we got you all cleaned up, and you don’t remember it?”

  Tanya raised her eyebrows and waited.

  “When I was a child, a little younger than you, I was afraid of the wolf, just as you are.”

  Tanya looked skeptical.

  “I lived here for five years, and my mother died at the school. I’m just beginning to discover things I had forgotten, especially about the wolf. There are still places in my memory that seem blank. Do you have anything like that? Times you can’t remember?”

  Tanya scrutinized her, eyes narrowed in thought, as if she might be weighing Sheila’s words to decide if she was telling the truth.

  “You remember the smoke you smelled yesterday when we were talking?” Sheila asked.

  Tanya nodded. “Cedar.”

  “It frightened you, and you ran back to the school. Why?”

  “It’s his warning.”

  “What kind of warning?”