Earthway

by Thurlo, Aimée

  “I didn’t know that someone went after him a second time, but like everyone else, I heard about that bomb in Shiprock. And just in case you’re asking, I had nothing to do with that. I’ve seen enough of death, believe me,” she added in a whisper-thin voice.

  “I know it’s been difficult for you,” Ella said, then focused her gaze on the photo of the Marine. “We understand your son came home for the funeral.”

  “He’s here on leave, but he spends most of his time at some bar over in Bloomfield.” She pointed to a matchbook on the tiny kitchen table.

  Ella picked it up and read the name: Bottoms Up. “Is that his photo?” she asked a moment later, walking to the picture on the TV.

  Seeing her nod, Ella took a closer look at the young man’s face, memorizing it. She then handed the photo to Blalock, who’d come up behind her.

  “How does he feel about what’s happened to his father?” Blalock asked.

  “I don’t know. He won’t talk about death . . . or much of anything else, either. He wasn’t always like that, but the war . . . it changed him.”

  “Thanks for inviting us into your home,” Ella said, heading back to the door.

  Inside the tribal SUV, Blalock fastened his seatbelt, then glanced over at Ella. “It’s still Sunday, Ella, but we’re heading for the Bottoms Up, right?”

  “Yeah, so keep your weapon tucked in and hard to reach. I’ve been in there once or twice and it’s a rough joint,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s a gas and oil field-worker hang-out, with enough overflow of local cowboys to stir things up. More often than not, there’s a fight brewing.”

  “I think the guys go there to test themselves, you know?”

  “Some men enjoy that type of thing,” Blalock answered. “And that includes a few cops I’ve worked with. The theory is that it’s a good way to keep their skills sharp.”

  “Or get knifed. I still hate that place,” Ella muttered.

  “Some women enjoy it. They go there ‘cause they like rough men.”

  “I prefer wusses,” she answered and Blalock laughed. Growing serious again, she continued. “I’m going to keep my badge pinned to my belt. Not in plain view, but I want to be able to move my jacket back if I have to, and flash it.”

  “They’ll know you’re out of tribal jurisdiction.”

  “Probably, but it may slow them down, and sometimes that’s all that’s needed. It’ll be seven by the time we get there and by then, those who got off work at five will be working on their fourth or fifth beer.”

  “I’ve got your back, but I’m getting too old for bar fights, Clah.”

  “Don’t give me that. I’ve seen you in a fight,” she said with a grin. “You cheat and win.” She still vividly remembered one time when Blalock had feigned a punch, then delivered a crushing kick to his opponent’s groin, sending him to the floor in a moaning heap. The man couldn’t even stand at the booking desk.

  Blalock laughed. “At my age you take whatever advantage you can get.”

  Forty minutes later they arrived at the Bottoms Up, just south of the main highway junction in Bloomfield. The vast parking lot was filled with rows of big trucks and trailers, oversized company pickups, and a half dozen older models with construction gear and ladders in the beds. Ella took two ASP collapsible batons from the cup holder where she kept them for emergencies and tossed Blalock one.

  “Would you believe a crowd like this on a Sunday? I can’t imagine what it must be like on Friday night. Let’s just find the Marine and get on with it,” Blalock said as they strode toward the steel door of the sprawling one-story cinder block building.

  To their surprise, the interior of the bar was nearly empty. Blalock looked at Ella and shrugged.

  Seeing the bartender opening beer bottles and placing them on a serving tray, Ella went up to him. She pulled back her jacket, showing him her badge, and Blalock did the same before wandering off.

  The Anglo bartender looked bored. “What can I do for you, detectives?”

  “Where is everyone?” Ella asked, glancing at the few patrons watching an East Coast baseball game. “The parking lot’s filled.”

  The bartender pointed to the big-screen TV on the wall. “The owner got tired of replacing the TV every time a fight broke out, so he built an outdoor patio with wooden benches and a big kerosene heater. If there’s a problem, the boys have to settle it out back. The bouncers make sure everyone plays by the new rules and, best of all, the plasma TV stays intact.”

  “So most of your customers are outside right now?” Ella asked.

  “Yeah. No big games are on tonight, so the guys got restless. When tempers started flaring, our people showed them the back door. They can have their drinks served out there, too. We have a small bar outside and kegs on tap.”

  Ella turned around to look for Blalock and saw him waiting for her by the back door. Joining him, she brought him up to date.

  “I’ve already taken a quick look outside. There are a couple of drunks going at it. Everyone else is standing around watching, just like back in junior high. Can this day get any better?” he grumbled. “You want to split up while we look for our guy?”

  “Yeah. The plus is that everyone’s attention will be focused on the fight, so we shouldn’t get any interference.”

  They made their way to the crowd that was gathered under the open-sided loafing shed and illuminated by lights on poles. Ella could see two men fistfighting in the center of a circle of about twenty men. Both fighters were Anglo, so she didn’t give them more than a passing glance. Blalock worked his way around to the left. Ella took the opposite direction, passing a matter-of-fact waitress gathering up empty beer glasses left unattended at the wooden picnic tables. Two burly men in red muscle T-shirts, no doubt the bouncers, were on opposite sides of the circle watching the fight closely but making no effort to break it up.

  Ella was about halfway around the tight circle of cheering onlookers when someone placed a hand on her hip. “You’ve got a nice ass, honey!” she heard in a whiskey-laced growl.

  Ella spun around, brushing the redheaded man’s hand away in one fluid motion.

  The man, wearing the local gas company’s uniform, laughed and moved toward her again. Just then a Navajo man in blue jeans stepped between them. Ella got no more than a quick glance at his face, but she recognized Louis Billey. Whose side was he taking, she wondered.

  Before she could speak, two other Anglo men wearing gas company uniforms grabbed both of Billey’s arms, answering her question. An enemy of her enemies might turn out to be an ally, but right now, they were both in trouble.

  Ella stepped up and kicked one of the men, but her aim was off and she only managed to get his thigh with the toe of her boot. The man stumbled back, then lunged, throwing an off-balance jab.

  Ella slipped under it and landed a fist to his right kidney. As he folded to the brick floor, another drunk reached out to grab her.

  Blalock, his flexible nightstick extended, whipped the guy across the forearm and the man yelped, jumping back. He collided with another patron, who grabbed him in a headlock. Both stumbled into a wooden table, then fell to the floor.

  “Cop!” Somebody yelled, and that only galvanized the attack against Blalock.

  As Blalock moved to Ella’s side, two more patrons rushed in, throwing blows. Ella blocked one attack with a jab to the man’s substantial belly, but the big man quickly grabbed her by the hair.

  Blalock slapped the man across the forehead with the nightstick, but then another grabbed him around the neck, trying to wrestle the FBI agent to the ground.

  “Get the cop!” people started chanting in unison.

  Billey moved in, watching Ella’s back as she stomped on the instep of Blalock’s attacker. The man let go and jumped back, barely avoiding Ella’s kick. Ella, Blalock, and the Marine stood back to back, ready to take on all comers, but that only seemed to incite the crowd. There was no sign of the bouncers, and Ella couldn’t really b
lame them for ducking out.

  At least four more men came at them, the first ducking in low with a tackle. Ella grabbed the man’s jacket and threw him into another man standing beside a table holding two beer bottles. Beer flew everywhere, and the men who’d collided started punching wildly at each other.

  Ella called out to Billey, but he couldn’t hear her above the din. When she grabbed the back of his shirt to get his attention, he spun around, swinging, and she had to duck fast to avoid the punch.

  “Parking lot,” she managed quickly, pointing toward the courtyard’s wooden gate.

  Blalock, at her side, also heard and nodded, then began moving in that direction.

  Ella felt a thrown beer bottle brush her head as she hurried through the gate into the parking lot. Blalock was half a step behind. Once among the cars, she heard a third set of steps, and spun around, fists up.

  “Whoa, it’s me. You okay?” Billey said, his eyes bright with excitement. “You’re good in a fight, lady. You a Marine?” he asked, a dribble of blood slipping out between his lips.

  “I’m another cop. Special Investigator Ella Clah of the Navajo Tribal Police,” she said, catching her breath. “Thanks for watching our backs.”

  “No prob. I’ve heard of you,” he said nodding. “You out on a date, looking for a little action? Maybe I shouldn’t have stepped in.”

  “No, I’m glad you did,” she said, laughing. “Actually, we came here looking for you.”

  His expression darkened. “My mother . . . she called you?”

  “No, but she told us where you’d be,” Ella said, then introduced him to Blalock. “We’re trying to make some sense out of a few things that have been happening on the Rez and were hoping you could help us,” Ella said, telling him about the attempts on Ford’s life.

  “The attempts on Reverend Tome’s life have nothing to do with either my mom or me,” he answered before she could ask. “He’s nothing to us now. My mom’s going back to Traditionalist ways, and I’ll be shipping out in another week.” He paused, started to say something else, then changed his mind.

  “Go on,” Ella encouraged.

  “I was just going to say that even though he’s Navajo, that preacher sure has a way of making enemies among the Diné.”

  “What makes you say that?” Ella asked, puzzled. She hadn’t heard this before.

  “I haven’t been back for long, but I’ve already met an ex-GI who hates his guts.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Henry Mike. He blames the preacher for the split between him and his wife. Says it wouldn’t have happened if the reverend had minded his own business,” he said, and shrugged. “The guy’s got an explosive temper, and the way he’s been drinking, all you have to do is look at him wrong to set him off. He’s dangerous as hell.”

  “So where can I find him?”

  Louis shrugged again. “All I can tell you is that he was here two nights ago. I saw him take on three guys when one of them spilled Mike’s beer. The bartender had to Taser him twice to bring him down. The guy’s the size of a truck, so he can do a lot of damage.”

  Ella handed him her card. “If you find out where he’s at, or if you run into him, give me a call. It’ll stay between us.”

  “I don’t think he’ll be coming back here anytime soon,” Billey said, frowning. “His head’s not screwed on right. Just before that last fight, he told me he needed to hole up someplace. He said something about making a last stand that no one would ever forget. I have no idea what that was all about.”

  “Did he say where he was going?” Ella asked.

  “According to him, a relative’s place up in the mountains. Said it was empty now and he needed to get back in tune with Mother Earth, or something like that.”

  “Thanks for your help,” Ella said.

  They were back in the SUV a few minutes later, driving west toward the city of Farmington. Ella called Justine, and after relaying what she’d learned, added, “Find Mike’s relatives and ask them where Mike would go if he wanted to hide out in the mountains. Our intel suggested Many Farms, so maybe we’re looking for a place east of there in the Chuskas.”

  “Got it. I’ll get back to you.”

  Ella glanced at Blalock. “Wanna pick up some dinner?”

  “Let me guess. You’re trying to get a bead on this guy so you can see him tonight?” Blalock asked, with a martyred sigh.

  “Yeah, if it turns out he’s still in-state, I’d like to find him,” Ella said.

  Blalock gestured to a fast-food restaurant just ahead. “Go through the drive up.”

  “You don’t want to eat inside?” she asked.

  “Not tonight. Just park where we can see anyone who tries to come up to us. You and I made some enemies in that dive, so the only way I’m going to be able to eat in peace is if we can watch our backs.”

  Ella and Blalock were just about finished with their jumbo burgers and fries when Justine called. “I’ve got a few interesting things for you. First, Henry Mike. According to a source in town, a distant relative of his, he did move to Many Farms after his wife ducked out. But since then, his aunt back on the New Mexico side of the Rez walked down into the desert to die. Now her home west of Sanostee is empty, so he may have decided to use it instead. A neighbor of the Mikes said Henry’s always had his eye on the place, though he has to haul water, and the only heat comes from an old wood stove.”

  Getting directions, Ella ended the call and glanced at Blalock. “We won’t get there for at least two hours. The last ten or fifteen miles will be on crappy mountain roads—more like jeep trails than anything else. But the middle of the night is still a good time. We’ll catch him off guard.”

  “Dawn’s even better on that score,” Blalock said, “and we’ll have the rising sun at our backs.”

  Ella nodded slowly. He was right. The only reason she’d suggested tonight was because she really hadn’t wanted to go home.

  “All right Dwayne,” she agreed. “We’ll wait and set out at three a.m. I’ve got the four-wheel drive vehicle, so I’ll pick you up. Where you going to be, your apartment in Farmington?”

  “No, let’s meet at my office. Drop me there now instead of at home so I can pick up my car. I’ll return to Shiprock in the wee hours and we’ll be able to shave a half hour off tomorrow’s travel time. Okay?”

  After Ella dropped Blalock off at his office, she headed to the tribal police station. Still wanting an excuse not to go home, she finished some overdue paperwork that had been on her desk for days.

  An hour later, Ella stood and stretched. There were two more reports she still needed to read, but she was dead tired now and might miss something important. It was time to go.

  By the time she arrived home it was close to midnight, and the only greeting she’d expected was from the dog. But to her surprise, Rose was sitting in the living room, waiting.

  “Mom? What are you still doing up?” Ella asked, knowing Rose was an early riser and usually in bed by nine-thirty.

  “I wanted to speak to you, daughter.”

  It was her tone that signaled trouble. Ella sat down and scratched Two behind the ears, not interrupting her mother’s silence.

  “I spoke to your daughter tonight,” Rose said at long last. “She sounds happy in the city and that disturbs me.”

  “She loves being with her father, Mom, and she’s eager to experience new things. That’s all there is to that,” Ella said, trying to put a positive slant for her mother’s benefit.

  “She told me that her father took her to see a girls’ school outside the capital, in Maryland. It was a beautiful country campus with a summer program, and she met some students her own age. She was the first Navajo the girls there had ever met. She said it was really cool. Those were her exact words, daughter.”

  Ella swallowed back a flash of anger and forced her voice to remain even for her mother’s benefit. “I know that her father would like to see her go to private school back East, but
he shouldn’t have done this. He knows—or should know—that she’s much too young to be away from home full time.”

  “Her father asked that you call him when you got home.”

  “Did he give you a cut-off time? It’s late.”

  “I asked him the same question, but he said for you to call no matter what time it was.”

  Ella nodded, then went to her room, still feeling the chill of Rose’s disappointment. This was one call she didn’t want to make in front of her mother.

  Ella shut the bedroom door, then called. Kevin answered on the first ring. “I just got in,” she said, her tone guarded. “What’s going on?”

  “Relax. It’s not bad news.”

  She waited.

  “Dawn called for you earlier and left a message. Then she tried again and managed to speak to your mom,” he said pleasantly. “Have you checked your messages yet?”

  “No. As I said, I just got home.” Ella looked at the answering machine on her desk and saw that the red light was blinking. “But I’ve already heard about her outing at that private school. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “She had a lot of fun, Ella, and the school is top-notch. There’s no harm in letting her see the options open to her.”

  “It’s not an option. A girl her age needs to be with her mother.”

  “Which brings me to the reason I wanted you to call me tonight. There’s a private corporation here in D.C. that’s looking to hire someone with your background and training. It’s a terrific opportunity, Ella, and you’d more than double your salary. You’d be investigating white-collar crime and doing background checks on potential employees for businesses in the area. You’d have the challenges you need to be happy, but you wouldn’t have to be in the line of fire every day. That means our daughter wouldn’t have to worry every time you were late for dinner. The biggest plus of all is that Dawn would be able to attend one of the finest schools in the nation.”

  Stunned by the news, Ella didn’t say anything.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked, laughing.