by Aimée Thurlo
The lengths to which Nydia was willing to go to fulfill the promise she’d made to those back on the reservation spoke of loyalty and love. Under any other circumstances, he would have done whatever was necessary to help her. A woman like Nydia, whose courage matched her capacity to love, deserved better than she would get from him. “If I could go with you now, I would,” he said softly.
Joshua kept his eyes on the road, focused on the task that had brought him out here. The fresh mud that lay in small clumps along the road made him suspect they were on the right track. It was the same color as the patches of mud found back by the water tower. “I’m sorry that your father-in-law is ill, but believe me when I tell you that I can’t help you, not now anyway.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. There’s no harmony inside me right now. You know about our ways, so you know I’m telling the truth when I say that the Holy People I would call upon in my sing would not help the patient. They’d only see the anger and pain I’m feeling. Those emotions destroy my abilities as a singer.”
He saw the sadness that crossed her eyes and felt his gut wrench. Nydia was no stranger to sorrow; he’d sensed that in her the first time they’d met. It was as if a shadow covered her heart. Maybe she still mourned her husband. He knew she was a widow.
But their moment in time had come and gone months ago. Neither of them had been ready to pursue the attraction, both too focused on the responsibilities they each had in their own lives. There had been no chance to get to know her then, and there was no chance now, though he’d harbored some wild dreams about his next meeting with this lovely, enticing widow.
The rumbling sound of a powerful engine filled the air, and brought his thoughts back into focus. He gestured by pursing his lips Navajo-style toward the closest rise. “A big truck or Jeep is coming from that direction. If it’s my brother, he’ll catch us unless you speed up.”
She pressed down on the accelerator, and her pickup reluctantly cooperated.
“Does Gabriel know you came after me?”
“Yes,” she said, and explained that she’d driven off before he could stop her.
“He’ll have the state police out helping him by now. Stay alert for roadblocks.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye, intrigued by Nydia. She was beautiful, with thick black hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Though small, her body’s generous curves called out for a man’s touch. But there was a hard edge of determination just beyond that lovely exterior, too. If instinct served him right, she was a woman used to getting what she wanted through persistence. It was what she was doing now, as she fought to do whatever she had to in order to bring him back to the reservation with her.
“Do you have any idea who might have wanted your father dead?” she asked.
Her question brought his thoughts back to the present with a jolt. “No. My dad was the sheriff of Four Winds for many years before Gabriel took the office. He made enemies, of course, but it makes no sense that they’d wait this long to strike out at him.”
“Is it possible that you were the target, not your father?”
“No. I was standing several feet away from him when the first shot came. The bullet struck a tree right beside my dad. The sniper wasn’t aiming at me, and the shot was too close to be a warning of any kind.” He gave her a long sideways glance. She was using her intelligence and logic to help him now, though softer feelings were at the core of what was driving her. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be the sole object of all her gentle emotions.
“Let’s track this from another angle,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “Who in town knew where your father would be this afternoon?”
He paused, his restless gaze moving slowly over the area, gliding off objects like the fallen branches that littered the road. “Almost anyone at Four Winds,” he answered at last. Clearly, she was trying to fulfill her own goals, but he was surprisingly glad she was with him now. She made a good ally.
“That doesn’t narrow the field much.”
“Yes, it does, somewhat. It’s not a big community, unless you count livestock and pets.”
Nydia chuckled and glanced at him, surprised by the joke. But then she saw his somber expression and realized he hadn’t been joking. “Narrow it down some more. Whoever murdered your father must not care much for you, either, since he was trying to frame you.”
“True, and circumstances really worked in his favor, too, like you appearing on the scene. Your testimony might have helped him reinforce the frame.”
“But his luck wasn’t perfect. Obviously, that part of his plan didn’t work. For now, though, let’s stick to the facts. Someone is out to destroy you. Who hates you that much?”
Joshua considered the question for a long time before answering. “I have no idea. I’ve never lost a patient, and I’ve never knowingly wronged anyone.” He shook his head slowly. “I have no idea who the killer could be.”
Nydia slowed down as they reached a section of the road where water and sediment from the recent rains had collected. Mud splattered all over the front of the truck as she hit a pothole.
“This road continues on into Four Winds, nowhere else. The killer came this way. I’ve been watching the sides of the road carefully for any signs that he left the road and went cross-country, but I found none. This is our first break. The killer’s vehicle will probably have mud splattered all over it.”
“But you can’t assume that anyone with a mudsplattered vehicle is a suspect,” she countered.
“If you’re worried that I’m going to turn vigilante and go after the innocent, don’t. I want my father’s killer, not a convenient scapegoat.”
As he thought of his father, anger once again seethed inside him, and he tried to repress it. He’d never felt rage like this before, and he wasn’t sure how to handle those feelings now. He’d seen his two older brothers punch a wall in anger or frustration more than once, bloodying their knuckles in the process, but he’d never understood what drove them to do crazy things like that. He’d always derived more satisfaction from staying in control, from finding the pattern and walking in beauty. Without harmony, there was only chaos.
He glanced at the woman who had allied herself with him. He’d forced himself to think of her as an attractive distraction when he’d first met her months before. A singer needed moderation. Love, judging from what he’d seen of it through Gabriel, seldom led to that. Though it obviously offered other rewards, he’d always believed that love was the last thing he’d need if he wanted to stay centered.
Of course, that hadn’t meant he couldn’t enjoy a woman’s company, and that special magic they had that brought out the gentler side of a man. But he didn’t think he could afford the confusion a woman created when she got into a man’s heart.
“So what’s the plan? I drive you around town and you check out the cars?” she asked.
“Can you think of something better? Your truck isn’t known there, so we shouldn’t alert anyone unless they see me.”
As they entered Four Winds, the familiar buildings of Main Street made his gut clench. His father had dedicated his life to protecting Four Winds, and this was how he’d been repaid. This time, he surrendered to the anger raging inside him, allowing the heat to rise to his face.
The blast of a siren jolted him out of his thoughts. “Turn here,” he said quickly. “Now!”
Nydia sped around the corner he indicated, but the statepolice vehicle stayed with her. “I’m going to pull over.”
“No. Head down the alley just ahead.” He knew he could jump out of the truck and hide in a dozen places there. As a kid, he’d played with his brothers in this spot near the old well.
“It’s okay. He’s not after us after all.” She slowed down and pulled off the road, the tension washing out of her.
“No! Don’t stop!” When she ignored him, he glanced at her and saw the curious expression on her face. It was as if she was listening to something.
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“Don’t worry.”
A moment later, the police vehicle sped past them, much to Joshua’s surprise. “How in the blazes did you know he’d do that?”
Nydia shrugged. “I just felt we’d be okay, I guess,” she said.
“What do you mean?” Joshua knew she was holding something back. He generally could tell when people did that. As a hataalii, he’d learned the signs, the hesitancy, the subtle changes in tone.
“Look, what does it matter now? I was right, so don’t worry about it.”
He could tell that something was bothering her, but this was not the time to press for answers. As she pulled back onto Main Street, Joshua ducked down. “You’ll have to do all the searching for me until we’re on a side street. It will be easier if people in town don’t see me at all. And we’ll have to be quick. It won’t be long until it’s completely dark. There are no streetlights in Four Winds, just a few business signs and everyone’s porch lights.”
“There’s a pickup by the library that looks real shiny under the outside light, like it has been washed very recently,” she said.
Joshua glanced up slightly, then ducked back down. Jake Field’s truck was perfectly clean; even the tires on the librarian’s truck had been washed. “Good observation. Nobody’s truck is that free of dust out here.”
She continued past Sally’s Diner, where a family was just getting into a dusty but not mud-splattered station wagon.
“We should be near the feed store now. What about the truck there?”
“There are no vehicles there.”
“There should be a green truck in the alley.”
“Sorry. The alley is empty, but it’s late, you know. It’s close to nine.”
He looked up. Darren Wilson’s pickup was normally parked in the alley next to his feed store, but it sure wasn’t there now. As speculations rose in his mind, a feeling of oppressiveness settled over him. The people here were all longtime friends, yet now a killer hid among them.
“You really care about this town, don’t you?” she observed, watching his face.
“This is my home, and the residents of Four Winds are at the center of everything I love about this place. It’s hard for me to believe one of them is a killer.”
“There’s a coin-operated car wash ahead. Two carloads of kids are waiting for their turn with the sprayers. Recognize any of them?” she asked.
He took a quick look. “The boy in the right stall is the son of the woman who owns Sally’s Diner. He saved my sister-in-law’s life once. It couldn’t have been him.”
“If you say so. What about the others? And don’t discount the women, either. Women are usually better shots than men.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Sweeping statement, wouldn’t you say?”
“No, actually it’s based on studies done gauging the skills of each sex at different tasks. For the record, females are usually more effective predators in nature, too.”
“Speed up a bit. The woman leaning against the beatup sedan is my sister-in-law, Lanie. If anyone can spot me, it’ll be her. She’s a teacher now, and they notice everything. The other woman is Marlee. She owns the boardinghouse. We’re lucky with her. She doesn’t notice much of anything except my brother Lucas.”
When she reached the end of Main Street, Nydia turned onto a side street that led to a residential area. “That’s it for the ride. You can’t question anyone if you’re wanted by the law. Word could already be out about your father. People won’t talk to you. And you can’t do any more tracking-there’s almost no traffic here. Someone’s likely to call in a report of a suspicious vehicle casing the homes, and we’d have either the state police or your brother here in a flash. It’s time to go talk to the sheriff.”
Joshua gestured up the road. “Keep going a little farther. There’s an area of high ground ahead. When you get there, drive up behind the stand of pines. It’s possible the killer managed to find a hiding place for his vehicle near the highway, avoiding the drive through town to his home until after dark. Let’s play this out a bit longer. Gabriel will be busy for a while yet, collecting evidence and scouring the forest around my hogan. He won’t allow anything to sidetrack him from that now, so my disappearance won’t be holding him up yet. After we’re done here, we’ll go directly to the station, or if he’s not there, to his home.”
Agreeing reluctantly, she followed Joshua’s directions and parked in a secluded area that overlooked the road into Four Winds. “It’s getting too dark to see anything clearly.”
“That’s the killer’s advantage, and ours, too, now. Don’t worry, our eyes will adapt in a few minutes.” He kept his gaze on the road ahead, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nydia rub her arms as if cold, then reach behind her to the rear bench.
She pulled out a Navajo rug and threw it over her shoulders. Then, with a hesitant smile, tucked the other edge around him. “I know men never admit to being cold, but it is, so humor me.”
Joshua felt the warmth radiating from her body. He longed to brush a kiss over her lips, to feel the velvet texture of her skin, to hear her sigh with longing. His fingers coiled around the rug in a tight grip as a flash of heat traveled down his body.
He had to focus on something else. He looked at the rug, noticing the designs. “This rug was woven with great care. Is one of your relatives a weaver?”
“No. This is a gift from someone I helped.”
“Even in this light, the details are so clear. The colors must be bright.” He turned his gaze back to the road, watching for approaching vehicles.
“They are. That’s why I liked it. Fortunately, I can appreciate it without letting superstition spoil it for me.”
“What do you mean?” The first thing that went through his mind was that for some crazy reason, Nydia had accepted the personal property of someone who’d died, a rug contaminated with the chindi. But surely no Navajo, no matter how modern, would do something like that. Instinctively, he slipped it off his shoulder and pushed it away from himself.
“The person who gave it to me said the rug didn’t have a flaw incorporated into it. Although I respect the story about Spider Woman, I don’t share those beliefs, so that lapse in tradition doesn’t bother me.”
His eyes narrowed. “No flaw?”
“Well, that’s what he said. I haven’t personally examined the weave. For all I know, it was made in Mexico, and he said that just to make the gift seem special.”
“Who gave it to you?”
She hesitated. “You’re not going to like my answer,” she said, then told him about the peddler and his van.
“Knowing about him, about the bowl and all we told you before, you still accepted his gift?”
Nydia took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I regret lowering my guard around him so he could play his little trick, but I do love this rug. It’s so soft and well made, like the blankets our ancestors used to weave.”
He studied her carefully. “What kind of trick did the peddler play on you?”
“I think he used some form of hypnotism.” She told him about the inner voice she had heard before the murder. “But in retrospect, maybe that had nothing to do with the peddler. It seems far more likely that it was my own intu ition. Perhaps I saw or heard something that I pieced together subconsciously.”
“Maybe, but it’s also possible that your beautiful rug is as cursed as the skinwalker bowl was.” He forced himself to keep his eyes on the road, though he was beginning to worry more about the woman beside him than himself.
“If this rug, or any other like it, had a curse and history like that of the bowl, I would have heard about it. I research folklore like that. It’s my job. I document and study Navajo beliefs and artifacts.”
“Yet you discount the traditional warning to weavers. Out of respect for our customs, if nothing else, you should not have accepted this rug.”
“I respect our customs, but this is an exquisite piece of work. I was thinking of donating it to th
e department that funds my research. The college would love a valuable Navajo rug like this for its museum, if it’s authentic.”
“You can’t pass something like that on to anyone,” he said. Nydia obviously had some knowledge of Navajo ways, but to her, it was all just another primitive philosophical concept. To him, it was the foundation of his life. His gut wrenched. As always, he found that the journey he’d chosen as a singer kept him on a lonely path. Although he admired Nydia on many counts, the beliefs that separated them seemed unsurmountable.
“Don’t discount what you don’t understand,” he insisted. “The rug has already had its effect. It talks to you, it influences your actions. So far, it has helped you. Have you asked yourself why? There’s nothing in the legend to account for that. You can’t trust anything that comes from the peddler. Didn’t you learn anything from your research into the skinwalker bowl?”
“It’s not the same thing at all. I’ve already given you two possible explanations for the inner voice I heard.”
Joshua lapsed into a long silence. He’d warned her. That was all he could do. There was no point in arguing. That rug wasn’t his concern now. He had other problems to handle, and the first of those was getting Nydia out of the danger that nearness to him might involve.
“Do you realize that you’re risking your life by insisting on staying with me? My father’s killer tried to frame me, but things went wrong. It’s possible he’ll come after me again, and you, too, since he doesn’t know if you can identify him.”
Nydia considered her reply, determined not to let him out of her sight until he was safely in his brother’s custody. Lost in thought, she looked past him, peering into the darkness. “We’ve got company,” she said suddenly, her voice steady but as taut as a bowstring.
He followed her line of vision and felt his pulse quicken. Someone was walking toward them. The man was holding something, a weapon, like a rifle perhaps—he couldn’t be sure.
