by Dinah McCall
“Wow, that’s something,” Beverly said. “You know, in an ironic way, I understand a little bit about how out of place you feel. I’m a white woman, married to a full-blood Navajo and living on the rez for almost fifteen years. We have three kids together, but there are times when I still feel out of place.”
Maurice nodded sympathetically, but the wheels were already turning. An outsider might be the way into any secrets they were keeping regarding Birdsong, especially if there was money involved. He took a step toward her and put a hand on her shoulder in a gesture of sympathy.
“It’s hard being different, isn’t it?”
Beverly rolled her eyes. “You said it.”
“So is it also hard to live with spiritual beliefs that are usually quite different from the white community. You know… like the white buffalo and shape-shifter stories, that kind of thing. I studied some about this in college and it’s very fascinating to me.”
Beverly glanced over her shoulder to make sure they weren’t overhead, and then took a step closer.
“Everything is hard. It took years for me not to make a fool of myself in certain situations, but there are still people who don’t like me, and it’s all because of the color of my skin. If it wasn’t for Leland and the kids, I would have already been gone. The conveniences other people take for granted are miles from here, like eating out at nice restaurants and running down the street for groceries, shopping for fashionable clothes, malls, movies,” she rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started.”
“That’s so sad,” Maurice said. “So I take it money isn’t easy to come by here.”
She waved her arms out at the stark but beautiful vista. “I don’t see any factories or shops, do you?”
He frowned in commiseration. “I see what you mean. And there’s the big deal everyone is talking about now that you must be facing. I don’t know how you keep it together.”
She frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He lowered his voice. “You know. That Birdsong woman. The one on that video. I think everyone in the entire world has seen that by now. Was she one of your friends? I’d think everyone must have really been freaked out for her, being attacked and then rescued like that.”
An odd expression came and went on her face, and for a moment, Maurice was afraid he’d said too much too soon. But the woman was obviously in need of a sympathetic ear.
“She was a teacher for one of my kids, but she’s not a friend. She had the audacity to suggest that my youngest girl had issues, and asked me if Leland and I had trouble at home. We don’t get along, but that was none of her damn business.”
“Wow. Teachers weren’t that forward when I was in school. But it’s about time for a new school year to start. At least your daughter won’t be in her class again.”
Beverly shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. She’s gone. Quit with no notice and took off up here somewhere to commune with nature or talk to spirits, or whatever the hell else she’s claiming to do. Everyone acts like doomsday is coming, and if it is, I can tell you right now I don’t want to die on this land.”
“Doomsday! Really?”
Beverly shrugged, realizing that she might have been talking too much to a stranger.
Maurice felt her pulling away and he pounced. “What would you do if you had a half a million dollars in your hand? Right now. Today.”
Her lips parted. She looked at him, then past him into her dreams.
“I would leave here.”
“Where would you and your family like to be?”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. “Leland wouldn’t come, and he wouldn’t let me take the kids. They’re being raised in the old ways, you know.”
“Oh. Too bad.”
She frowned. “Why on earth would you ask such a thing?”
“Because that’s what I’m offering for Layla Birdsong’s location.”
She backed up in shock. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
“You have that much money on you?”
“In my car back at the tourist center.”
“Oh my God! What if someone steals it?”
“I have more.”
She gasped, unable to imagine resources that deep.
“Do you know where she is?” he asked.
She shrugged.
He pressed her, sensing that she was weakening. “They have to be talking about it. What do people say?”
“I don’t know,” she muttered.
“You do know. I’ve offered you a way out of your private hell. Think about it. When we get back, I’ll get in my car and drive off with a half million dollars and nothing to show for it, or I can drive off with information and you will be a half million dollars to the good.”
“It’s in cash?”
“In cash.”
She turned around and strode toward the tour bus without commenting, but he knew the seed had been planted, and he knew how it felt to be on the outside looking in. He felt certain she would spill her guts. Despite the misery he was in, this had been a most fruitful tour.
****
Three days later: Nearing sundown
George Begay was going through his things, packing for the journey he knew lay ahead. He was taking only what would fit in a small duffle bag, knowing speed would be imperative to their escape.
He picked up his wedding photo and slipped it beneath a rolled up pair of jeans. He might be leaving, but he was taking Frances with him. He stuffed a few pairs of socks on top of the photo, and was about to add a couple of shirts when there was a knock at his door. The presence of trouble was already in his mind, and when Leland Benally strode in without waiting for an invitation, he began seeing what had happened.
Leland was bordering on panicked. He grabbed George by his shoulders, already apologizing before he even told George what for.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but you have to get word to Layla and the Windwalker that someone bad knows where they are. Beverly and I have been having problems, but I had no idea she would do something like this.”
George stifled an urge to panic. He could not help Layla, and Layla knew it. Right now, the Windwalker was all that stood between her and disaster.
“Leland, sit down and tell me what happened.”
Leland sat, and the moment George sat down, Leland was back on his feet, pacing.
“A few days ago my mother fell and broke her leg. Beverly knew I had tours that day and found me at the lookout where the tourists were taking pictures. I left in our truck and she finished the tour for me. No big deal, you know? We’ve done stuff like that before.”
George nodded. “Yes, that’s what family does, right? I hope your mother is okay. I had not heard.”
“She will be,” Leland said. “But that’s not why I’m here. There was a strange man on the tour. Weird looking albino guy all covered up to protect himself from the sun and light, but too friendly, you know? He didn’t feel sincere, but hey, he paid his money for the tour so he came with the rest of them. Only he and Beverly got to talking. He figured out she was unhappy. Offered her a way out of her misery.”
George frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Leland’s voice began to shake. “Beverly left me this morning. Didn’t even try and take the kids. She told me that if the world was going to come to an end, she didn’t want to die out here in this god-forsaken place. She said she was going to Las Vegas. I was shocked. I asked her what she thought she was going to do for money. She opened up her suitcase. It was full of hundred dollar bills. I don’t know how much. I asked her if she’d stolen it. She said no, that a man gave it to her for a little information.”
Leland wiped his eyes, unashamed of the tears as he continued.
“I knew. I knew before she opened her mouth that the only information of value on the entire reservation was the whereabouts of Layla.”
George felt sick. “So she told?”
Leland nodded.<
br />
“She couldn’t have known the exact location because none of us do,” George said.
“She heard you talking the other night when we were all at the meeting, remember? Someone asked you if Layla was safe and you said you saw her drinking water near the cave with the little pool. Everyone knows that’s in the Canyon del Muerto. And any Navajo could tell you exactly how to find it.”
George’s hands were shaking, but what was done was done.
“Is Beverly gone?” George asked.
“Yes, and I’ll be honest. If it hadn’t been for the fact that our children were standing there crying and watching her leave, I would have broken her damn neck.”
“It’s good you don’t have her blood on your hands,” George said.
Leland ducked his head. “She has brought much shame to me. I am sorry.”
“We have to trust that the Windwalker will know things we cannot understand. Somehow he will protect her. I believe this and you have to believe this, too.”
“What about Beverly?” Leland asked.
George shrugged. “I doubt she will live long enough to spend all her money.”
Leland didn’t bother to hide his shock. “This is happening soon?”
“Very soon,” George said. “There will be a sign in the sky. When it comes, native people will come from all corners of this continent. There will be thousands here waiting.”
Leland frowned. “Waiting for what?”
“For Layla. She will save us. Maybe not all, but all who believe and are here when she comes.” George stood up. “Say nothing of this to any of the others. Only say that your wife left you. Mention nothing of her betrayal, because in the long run, it will not matter.”
“This is true?” Leland asked.
George nodded. “This is true.”
****
“One more round and then we’ll call it a day,” Niyol said, watching carefully as Layla notched another arrow into the bow and took aim at a target a good distance away.
Her arm was aching, both from the unaccustomed use of the bow and her healing arm, but the more she practiced, the more her skill was returning.
She had bow-hunted with her father from the age of thirteen, and at one time had been quite good. It had been years since she’d practiced, but some things are never forgotten.
At his nod, she took a deep breath then swung the bow up, and with nothing but a quick glance at the target, let fly. Her father had called it instinctive shooting. Her aim was better when she just looked at the tree briefly, which was the target, then by taking specific aim at the mark on it.
The arrow hit with a solid thump. She smiled.
Niyol took the bow out of her hands, laid it aside and then reached for her. Layla started to walk into his embrace then ducked and hit him in the back with a quick jab of her elbow before falling to the ground and rolling away. He was laughing when he dodged it, but he was also proud. She was paying attention.
“So, little Singing Bird, you are finally paying attention.”
She eyed him curiously as she dusted herself off.
“Why did you call me that?”
He shrugged. “One day you will know.”
Layla frowned. “Don’t go all mystic on me again. What aren’t you telling me now?”
He pointed to the bow. “You get the bow. I’ll get the arrows and meet you back at the camp.”
He loped off toward the trees, but Layla didn’t leave. She was mesmerized by the fluidity of his body as he ran and how the sunlight caught and held in the sheen of his hair. When the pain in her heart became too intense, she walked away. Turning into a masochist would get her nowhere. She would not belittle this thing between them by wasting a single second of their time together, and reminded herself she should be storing up memories. They were going to have to last her a lifetime after he was gone.
She was already inside the cave and wiping the sweat from her face when she saw him stop and look up. Her heart skipped. He was standing too still.
She stood up.
All of a sudden he was running and the wind was rising up behind him, whipping everything in sight. He was flying by the time he got inside the cave and began throwing their gear farther back away from the opening and yelling.
“Get back! All the way back!”
Layla didn’t wait to ask why as adrenaline gave speed to her steps.
The wind blew all the way to the front of the cave, but no farther, methodically wiping away the outer trace of their presence. Niyol had pushed the motorcycle all the way to the back of the cave the first night they were here, and now she knew why.
He stood without moving, like a sentry keeping watch. She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear him chanting, and felt the vibration from the air around her.
Then just as suddenly as the wind started, it stopped. Not a blade of grass, not a leaf on the distant trees was moving. It was like the earth was holding its breath. All of a sudden, she heard the high-pitched drone of a small-aircraft engine, and from the sound, it was flying low.
She was so scared that she forgot to breathe, then as before, heard his voice inside her head.
Breathe. It will pass.
She exhaled slowly then buried her head on her knees. When she heard his footsteps coming toward her, she bolted to her feet and leaped sideways, pulling the knife from her belt just as he pounced.
He caught her arm. His eyes were dark, his expression impossible to read as she held the knife to his wrist. One good slash and he would have bled out before her eyes.
Their gazes locked.
“Only you do not die,” Layla whispered.
He turned her loose, lifted a finger toward her face, but then stopped when she followed it with the knife. But it was the expression in his eyes that told her she was safe.
She put the knife back in the scabbard and wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shaking.
“Bad people?”
He nodded.
“How did they find us?”
He thought a moment then frowned. “Someone told. It was a woman.”
She gasped. “The only people who know where I am are Dineh.”
“This one is not.”
Layla groaned. “But she lives on the rez?”
He nodded. “You have enemies?”
She shrugged. “Not enemies.”
“But also not friends.”
“I need to tell Grandfather. What if she does something that would impact the evacuation?”
“He will know,” Niyol said, then turned and began packing up their things.
“We’re moving?”
“Yes, now, before they have time to send in others.”
She ran to her things and began packing them up, then scattered the rocks around the fire and poured water on the embers.
She turned around to grab the weapons and they were gone.
“What happened to the weapons?”
“They are in a safe place.”
“We can get them back?”
“Yes. We will get them back.”
He fastened the bedrolls on the back of the bike as Layla grabbed her backpack. He gave the cave one last glance and then pushed the bike out into the light and handed her the helmet. He swung his leg over the seat as she got on behind him. The engine rumbled then roared to life. They rode out of the campsite without looking back.
Chapter Seven
Once again, Layla and Niyol were speeding through the gorge, racing against time for a safe place to hide. All of a sudden, Niyol turned the motorcycle into a spin and braked, nearly throwing her off.
“What are you doing?” she screamed.
He pointed up.
The plane was just a tiny speck in the sky, but it was visible and coming their way.
“Oh no, no, no.”
She grabbed Niyol’s shoulders and shook him. “Don’t stop! Go! Go!”
The engine was still idling as he dropped the kickstand and got off the bike. He yanked of
f one of the bedrolls and when he untied it, the bow and the quiver of arrows fell out.
Layla jumped off the bike. “Are you crazy? You can’t shoot down a plane with a bow and arrow?”
“But you can,” Niyol said.
Layla stared at him. “I’m not the one with magic,” she muttered.
“But you are. You just haven’t accepted it yet,” he said, and handed her the bow. “Get your arrows, Singing Bird. It’s time to step into your own.”
Layla was shaking so hard she was sick to her stomach.
“I can’t shoot down a plane. You turn the wind into a storm and knock it out of the sky.”
Niyol stopped. “No. This is your task. Look at me!”
She looked straight into his eyes. She tried to look away, but she could not. Something was happening inside her head. She was seeing things and hearing voices chanting, and once again, in words she didn’t understand.
They stopped as suddenly as they began. As always when she felt his magic, she staggered, like someone had almost pulled a rug out from under her feet. She dropped the backpack from her shoulders and replaced it with the quiver of arrows.
“Move out into that open space,” Niyol said, pointing to the widest part of the gorge. “He will come low to verify it is you. Aim at the bottom where you think he would be sitting.”
“I can’t shoot an arrow that hard or that far,” she said.
“You can now,” Niyol said. “Go now, and hurry. He is already descending.”
“Whatever,” she muttered, and held tight to the bow as she moved in long, angry strides, pissed that this was happening, and beyond pissed that she’d become the target for a variety of fools.
****
Maurice was smiling as he came in low. This was exactly what he’d hoped would happen. The first pass had scared them out of hiding, and the second pass would be a verification of target. After that, all he had to do was follow overhead until they got to a place in the gorge wide enough for him to land. The plane was rigged for crop dusting. He would spray them with a little of his special concoction and they would be flat on their ass unconscious in seconds. Then he could land, load up the woman, and fly out the same way he’d come in. Her guard, whoever he was, would wake up with a headache, but by then they’d be gone, and he would be five million dollars to the good and ready to begin a well-deserved retirement.
