Ancient Blood

by R. Allen Chappell

  Thomas leaned out the passenger-side window and looked longingly at the bar as they passed. He and Harley had spent some happy times in that bar, but secretly he knew you had to enjoy a good fight to make the most of the experience.

  Charlie turned to the other two. “We have to make a quick stop to pick up something for the professor, and I have a couple of phone calls to make. Then we can head out to Aida Winters’ place and see the kids.” He knew this was the main reason Thomas had come along in the first place.

  When Charlie came out of the florists with a huge bouquet, he pulled out the letter the professor had given him to deliver along with the flowers and stared thoughtfully at it.

  Harley Ponyboy raised his eyebrows twice in quick succession at the flowers and asked slyly, “Are those for me?”

  Thomas burst out laughing.

  Charlie thrust the flowers at the little man and said, “No, but you can hold them until we get to the ranch.”

  As they pulled through the ranch gate, they spotted Aida Winters and the children down at the corrals. Thomas’s eyes danced when he saw Caleb on a tall paint horse that was prancing and tossing its head. The boy looked good up there—he looked like he knew what he was doing. Thomas felt certain Aida would not put the boy on a horse he couldn’t handle and was content to watch without comment.

  Aida turned when she heard them behind her and saw Harley holding the spray of flowers. She nodded at him and smiled, “Charlie buy those for you?” once again causing Thomas to snort and cover his mouth.

  Harley Ponyboy handed over the flowers without smiling and said, “The Professor sent these.” He had the feeling Aida didn’t like him. Maybe she still thought he was the one who hit George Custer in the head with the shovel.

  Charlie stepped up and handed Aida the letter that went with the flowers. He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “Dr. Custer was up most of the night writing this. He had a wastebasket full of them before he came up with this one.”

  Aida didn’t change expression, just stuck the letter in the flower arrangement and left for the house.

  Thomas and Harley had already settled themselves along the top rail of the fence. Charlie joined them, throwing an occasional glance back over his shoulder at Aida as she made her way stiffly up the path to the house. He saw no sign she was pleased.

  “That boy is a chip off the ol’ blockhead,” Harley declared nudging Thomas Begay, as they watched the way Caleb sat the paint gelding as it trotted around the pen.

  “Yep,” Charlie said, “it looks like he may have learned a thing or two since he got here.”

  Thomas studied his son and beamed. The boy was now nearly as good a rider as his sister.

  Ida Marie Begay cantered a great circle around the corral and waved at her father as she passed. He gave her a thumbs-up and thought, Aida Winters has been very good to these children, just as she was to their mother. Thomas was not one to forget a favor.

  When, finally, Charlie went up to the house to tell Aida they were leaving, he found her still sitting on the veranda holding the open letter from George Armstrong Custer.

  “Charlie, would you ask George to drop by here on his way back to Albuquerque?” She moved to the edge of the veranda. “I would like to know now what he found in that kiva here in the canyon.” She looked up the valley in the direction of the ruin. “Hiram Buck’s old mother, before she died, would not come anywhere near this ranch. Said something bad happened in that canyon before the Anasazi left. Some said the old woman was a witch. She was mean enough and ugly enough to be a witch, that’s for damn sure.” She let the letter drop to her side. “Let me get you boys some ice-tea. Seems I’ve forgotten my manners, what with all this,” she said as she waved a hand at the flowers. “You’re welcome to stay for supper too, should you be of a mind.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Aida, we’ve got to be getting back to town. We have to meet some of the crew at three o’clock and load supplies. As it is, I’m guessing it will be well after dark when we get back to camp.”

  Aida nodded and folded the letter, then put it in her pocket.

  Charlie borrowed her phone to call Sue. His wife had not answered when he had called from town. Again, he did not get an answer, but left messages from Thomas and Harley for their wives, and yet another one for Sue, a more personal one. He hoped Aida, just outside, couldn’t hear him. He was a little embarrassed, but that didn’t prevent him from saying what he needed to say.

  Aida Winters walked with Charlie back to the corrals and called the children in off the horses. She told Thomas how happy she was to have them spend part of their vacation there. “Those two are making ‘kids’ horses’ out of some of these old broomtails That’s money in the pocket for me. I’ll see they take some of it home for school clothes.”

  Thomas nodded and again saw his debt to Aida Winters increase.

  After they had said their goodbyes and the three Dinè were on their way back to town, Harley Ponyboy, looked in the rearview mirror and admitted, “That’s a nice woman, that Aida Winters. I never really been around no white women, other than a few school teachers at boarding school.” He smiled. “But I was never really in school enough ta get used to them either.”

  “Well, one thing’s for sure,” Charlie, said. “She thinks the world of those kids. And I believe she’s having some second thoughts about George Custer, too.”

  Thomas nodded. “I hope so. It might get a little lonely for her out here after school takes up.”

  ~~~~~~

  It was nearly midnight when the Suburban crawled and bounced its way back up the wash to George Custer’s dig. They were all pretty well worn out from the bone-jarring trip and left most of the supplies for the next morning, when more help would be available to ferry it up to the camp.

  At daylight, when Charlie yawned himself awake, the professor was standing at the tent flap, holding two steaming cups of coffee. “Good morning,” he grinned, and then, “How did things go yesterday?”

  Charlie kicked off the blanket, and sat up on the edge of the cot, “Okay, I think, we got everything on the list and I picked up the mail.”

  “No, I mean with Aida—how did that go?”

  “Well, you know Aida.” Charlie stretched and yawned some more. “It’s hard to get a take on what she’s thinking sometimes.” Charlie had slept the few hours in his clothes and had only to pull his boots on. As he took the cup of coffee, he didn’t look directly at George Custer. “She did say she would like for you to stop back through, when you’re finished with the project here.” And then he flashed his old mentor a smile. “I guess that’s saying something.” He ran a pocket-comb through his hair. “She mentioned too, she thinks it’s time she knew what’s in the kiva up at her place.”

  The professor looked down for a moment “She’s probably better off not knowing what’s in that kiva. But, maybe she’s right. Maybe it is time.” The Professor put his cup down on the makeshift desk and sat heavily back in his camp chair. “Her place may never seem quite the same to her, though, once she knows.”

  “So, I’m guessing you expect to find the same here in this kiva?” Charlie was skeptical and it showed.

  “I know exactly what I’m going to find here.” The professor sighed and moved some papers about his desk. “Charlie, years ago, do you recall me mentioning a Dr. Averill McCarthy?”

  Charlie thought for a moment “He was once a colleague of yours, as I recall.”

  “An old Professor of mine, actually, first active in the science back when most reports from the field were chiefly supposition and conjecture. There was tree ring dating and later, carbon 14 analysis, of course, but the rest was mostly seat-of-your-pants stuff.” Dr. Custer absentmindedly stirred his coffee. “Everyone had their own ideas in those days, but archaeologists were a pretty regimented little fraternity.” He peered at Charlie over the rim of his cup. “What I have been doing these past few years is retracing a succession of sites already investigated by Averill McCarthy bac
k at the very start of his career. Even then, he knew what he was onto, but he also knew he didn’t have the technology to prove it. The good doctor was old school, deeply imbedded in his particular social strata of academia. I suppose he didn’t want to rock the boat.”

  There was a fly buzzing around the tent, and Professor Custer followed its flight as he reached for the fly swatter. “Dr. McCarthy took me into his confidence in the latter days of our association and made me privy to his research on the ‘Migration.’ He knew technology was advancing at an astonishing rate and felt one day his theories could be proven.” The fly landed on George’s desk, and he was ready for it. He was a meticulous man, in most regards, and flies were on his hit list. Brushing what was left of it from a notebook to the trash, he looked up. “Others have since come to the same conclusions, but now we have the means to prove what once was only conjecture.”

  Charlie was fascinated but couldn’t help asking, “You’re not saying this was a common scenario in the kivas you’ve investigated, are you, George?”

  “No, no, not by a long shot! Quite rare, in fact.” George became animated, waving an arm in dismissal. “The old man must have worked dozens of ceremonial chambers without finding anything such as this. But, there are three sites in the direct line of migration that do show a similar ‘scenario,’ as you call it—enough to establish a basis for McCarthy’s hypothesis.” George Custer grew even more agitated. “I had almost given up hope of finding further corroboration, when I was made aware of Aida’s ranch. Now, there was a kiva unknown to McCarthy—incredibly well preserved, too, right down to the coprolites.” He raised a finger and thumb and held them apart to emphasize his point. “Those ancient, desiccated droppings will once and for all settle the question of what sometimes happened during the latter stages of the great migration.

  The professor’s enthusiasm was contagious and caused Charlie to wonder aloud, “How soon do you figure you’ll know something here?”

  “I expect it will be the end of the week before we are down to base level—at least, for this last occupation, which is what we are most interested in. I have people working on general site evaluation and period integration, but only a select few will participate in this final work in the kiva.” He studied Charlie for a moment. “I do not want word of this final phase of the study to get out before I publish my paper. You are welcome to be there, Charlie. In fact, a credible, unaffiliated witness to this last stage of the excavation might come in handy at some point.”

  “Exciting as all this is, George, I hope you are prepared for the possible repercussions. The Hopi in particular are not going to be happy to see this work published. Their former public support in passing the ‘Indian Reparations Act’ could evaporate. The Navajo Nation has steadily been forced to relinquish and negotiate land rights in these ongoing legal maneuvers. The Hopi’s main argument to the government is their Anasazi connection to ancestral ceremonial places and burials in this area.”

  Charlie wanted to make himself very clear in this. “Your findings, if proven, could be a major setback in regard to continued public sympathy and support for the Hopi Nation. They are not going to take that laying down.”

  “Charlie, I believe we have already seen a reaction right here in the attacks on this camp.” George Custer lowered his voice and went on, “The Hopi are a good and intelligent people. Only a few highly placed instigators may be involved in this, thus far, but that could easily be fanned into a groundswell of activism among the Pueblo people, should our current antagonist’s activities not be curtailed. They are smart and apparently well funded. It’s the sort of thing that can get out of hand.”

  The professor paused and flashed Charlie a grim smile. “As I have said before, my work is a matter of science. How it might affect any particular group is irrelevant in the face of truth.”

  Charlie sat back down on his cot and stared at the canvas floor. “I did make a phone call in town regarding information on Ira Buck, and another one to the Bureau of Land Management district office to report what’s happened out here. I’m supposed to get back to them this afternoon. I’m going to take a ride up to the point of the mesa later and try to get out on the radio. Maybe we can get some idea of how Ira Buck fits in this and possibly who he’s tied in with.”

  Dr. Custer was not so sure. “I doubt we’ll find out much more about Ira Buck than we already know. I am more concerned that he might have confederates right here in camp.”

  “You mean Tanya Griggs?”

  “I’m reserving judgment on Tanya, but there is another person that might bear watching.

  “Who’s that?” This took Charlie by surprise, as he had not considered anyone other than the Hopi girl.

  “I’ve had my eye on Ted Altman—the undergrad student from Oklahoma State. There’s something not quite right about him. His resume is a bit sketchy. I took him on mainly due to his medical training—an important consideration on these isolated projects, as we have already seen.” The professor paused and then thoughtfully concluded, “He seems awfully friendly with Tanya Griggs, though they are both attractive young people and that’s to be expected. And granted, he’s new to the science and just now gaining an understanding of our work here, but his interest seems somehow superficial.” Here the professor seemed to think of something he had not previously considered. “I suppose there could be a logical explanation for all this, but I can’t help feel we’re missing something right here under our noses.”

  Charlie reflected on this for only a moment before saying, “Why don’t we let Thomas have a talk with Ted Altman before we get too heavily invested. You know…” He smiled, “Indian to Indian. Thomas is pretty good at figuring out where people are coming from.”

  “Invested?” George Custer grinned, “You mean in our own paranoia?”

  “Something like that, I guess.”

  “Fine, just have Thomas keep it casual. I wouldn’t let on Ted’s suspect in any way. You could be right about the paranoia.”

  The morning worksheet listed both Thomas Begay and Ted Altman assigned to the middens heap off the edge of the ruins. Thomas had already been clearing and gridding the area for nearly a week. They were now ready to do some light trenching on the peripheries to establish some sort of perimeter.

  Later, as Charlie and Harley talked with Professor Custer in the open area of camp, they cast the occasional furtive glance at Thomas Begay and Ted Altman hard at work on the middens.

  Harley, who had worked with Ted Altman the previous week, was of the opinion their suspicion was unwarranted. “I do not see why you are picking on this guy. He ain’t even from around here. He seems very interested in our Navajo culture, too. He says all Indians have to stick together, and the Navajo, being one of the largest tribes, should take a lead in Indian rights and that stuff. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

  “Really, Harley?” Charlie had been curious about what Harley Ponyboy and Ted Altman talked about, as he had seen them in what appeared to be earnest conversation on several occasions. “What else do you and Ted talk about?”

  “Oh, you know, mostly that big Indian movement outa Oklahoma, and how much good they have done for the native peoples.” Harley looked up the hill and nodded. “He said the ‘movement’ was going ta have a booth at the inter-tribal ceremonials at Gallup this year. He told me I should go by and sign up. He thinks I could be a big help recruiting less advantaged people in the remoter parts of the reservation.”

  Charlie Yazzie exchanged glances with the professor, then pursed his lips and nodded. He allowed that might be a good thing, but wanted to know, “What exactly does Ted himself do in this ‘movement’ Harley?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Ted said he couldn’t say a whole lot about it just yet, but he said it would be a good thing to have a part in.”

  When lunchtime came, Thomas Begay picked up his sack lunch at the mess tent and found Charlie Yazzie and Harley Ponyboy already eating with the professor in front of his tent. Charlie
moved over on the cedar log and made room for Thomas.

  “How did things go up at the middens?” the Professor wanted to know.

  “Pretty good. We almost have the perimeters staked out and will finish gridding it this afternoon. It’s a big trash heap; bigger than I thought.”

  Charlie grinned. “How did you get along with Ted this morning?”

  “Good,” Thomas grinned back. “I can get along with a rattlesnake, as long as it rattles now and then,” (a statement that would later come back to haunt him).

  “Did he sign you up for the Indian movement?”

  “No, but he did tell me all about it. He said it would be right up my alley. Not sure what he meant by that.”

  The professor was grinning now, too, and said, “Hang in there. I’m sending Harley over to help you boys out this afternoon. Keep your ears open.”

  That night at supper all the Indian crewmembers seemed to gravitate to one end of the table. They had now all worked together and were better acquainted and, the fact is, they were curious about one another. Charlie sat at the very end of the table and Thomas and Harley were at either side. Ted Altman and Tanya Griggs took seats directly across from one another. As the meal progressed, Charlie thought he detected a certain animosity on the part of the Hopi girl when it came to Ted Altman. He wasn’t sure when this had come about, as they had seemed on very good terms before the accident, but, when he thought back. One of the undergrads did say he heard them arguing in the women’s tent after the cave in.

  “Could you pass me that salt shaker, Harley?” Ted smiled and took the shaker, saying thanks in return. He seemed self-assured, cocky even, and kept glancing across with a smirk at Tanya Griggs.

  The young Hopi sat next to Thomas. Other than a few light scratches and a small cut on her cheek, she appeared to have suffered but little injury in the kiva accident that morning. Thomas spoke to her several times, but she had little to say in return. Even Harley, whom she liked, tried to draw her out a few times but nothing came of it. Bob Mills, the forensic dentist, had taken a seat on the other side of the girl, and she did carry on a bit of conversation with him, though she didn’t seem particularly pleased to do so.