Boy Made of Dawn

by R. Allen Chappell

  As she filled their cups, Aida spoke soothingly to the girl as she once had spoken to her as a child. “What’s happened up there…Hiram didn’t hurt you, did he?” There had been many rumors over the years, and Aida would put nothing past Hiram Buck.

  The girl had not heard a kindly word spoken in a long time, and the tears flowed in earnest now as she reached out for Aida’s hand. “They have my kids!” she cried almost incoherently. “They won’t give them back…Caleb and Ida are gone” Her voice trailed off in heartrending sobs.

  Those bastards! Aida thought. What have they done now? “Tell me Sally,” she said gripping her hand more firmly, “why did they take your children?”

  The girl’s sad eyes ranged around the old familiar kitchen. “Hiram has gotten in with some very bad people and talked me into going along with them too. It’s a bad thing they want me to do, and they are keeping the kids until it’s done.” Slowly she began to tell Aida her story, not leaving anything out, causing Aida’s throat to tighten and her own eyes to fill by the time she was finished.

  “Drink your tea, sweetheart,” she said finally. “Give me a little time to think.” She now sipped her own tea in a silent rage.

  Sally had been at Aida Winters only two days when Aida returned from the livestock auction followed by a strange pickup truck. She stared from behind the bedroom curtains in amazement as Thomas and Charlie got out and started unloading horses.

  Sally had not seen Thomas since the afternoon nearly six months ago when he and Charlie Yazzie had come to her place looking for Freddy Chee. They said he might be involved in the Patsy Greyhorse murder, and what would turn out to be one of the more notorious corruption cases in tribal memory. She knew Freddy later tried to drag Thomas Begay down with him, but thanks to Charlie Yazzie, Thomas eventually was exonerated. It was said the experience had a life-altering effect on Thomas, bringing about changes most people previously thought impossible.

  The Marksman

  Charlie and Thomas saddled up early the next morning. While the piebald gelding pranced and snorted, he didn’t offer another aerial display. They were nearly halfway along the ridge to the Buck place when Charlie thought about the revolver he had left in the glove box of the truck. He didn’t mention it to Thomas, who he knew would not be pleased at the news. Thomas set great store by that pistol, calling it their “good luck piece.”

  Charlie’s relatives, who had presented him the gun at the start of his career, never tired of hearing how it had once saved the men’s lives. They liked the story best when told by Thomas, who embellished it in a fashion that both embarrassed Charlie and strengthened his resolve not to count too much on his shooting skills in the future. He felt he was generally better off without the gun. Without some specific reason, he seldom even thought to carry it anymore. He almost never practiced with it and hoped he would not have to stake his life on it again.

  Thomas Begay, when he and Sally lived together, had only once gone with her to visit the Bucks, and he now hardly remembered any of the clan he had met. George Jim had been in the service at the time, and Sally’s mother had passed away years before. His strongest memory was of Tilde Buck. She had thought Sally and her nephew George Jim might hit it off eventually when he returned from the service. She had not been prepared to like Thomas, though he had been on his best behavior and did not drink during their short stay. Hiram Buck had been absent, up north pursuing the purchase of some stock from a distant relative on the Uintah Reservation. Thomas spent most of his time poking around the countryside by himself. It was Mormon country and hard to find a drink if you didn’t know the right people.

  They tied their horses in a small copse of trees and eased up onto the Buck property in the shelter of a slight draw angling off the ridge. It was not hard to tell when they hit Hiram’s land—the grass immediately disappeared and there were signs of severe overgrazing, even though no cows were to be seen. Crossing Aida’s fence was like coming into a different sort of country altogether.

  Thomas looked around. “This place has gone way downhill from what I remember.” He kicked a dried cow pie. “Hiram and his bunch must have fallen on hard times to let the place get in this condition.”

  Charlie nodded agreement. “I can see where these people might be open to an opportunity to make a little extra cash.”

  Thomas again thought back to the visit he and Sally once made in which her Aunt Tilde talked incessantly about her sister’s son, George Jim, and the fine little place he had not far from her and Hiram’s. She thought the boy would do well when his time in the service was up. She kept a picture of him on the wall and kept bringing it to Sally’s attention, hoping Thomas would get the idea. The picture showed a dark, broad-faced young man with small eyes and bushy hair. He was wearing military fatigues, which somehow suited him. Hiram’s picture hung right next to it, and while Thomas had seen the family resemblance, the boy had appeared weak beside Hiram.

  The morning was warming up, and they stopped for a break and drink of water when, far in the distance, gunshots attracted their attention. They sounded too far off to pose any immediate concern, and the two men just looked at one another.

  Thomas counted the shots, holding up a hand and enumerating the evenly spaced rounds finger by finger. “Five shots. That’s a full magazine for a hunting rifle.”

  Charlie nodded. “Sounds like target practice to me.” He had no more than said this when another five shots punctuated the morning calm.

  “Yep, someone, at least, is out to sharpen his eye.” Thomas said this with the sad shake of his head he used when speaking of Charlie’s marksmanship.

  Remaining concealed, they worked their way out to the end of the draw. They could see across a considerable meadow, or what had once been a meadow in better days. On a barren rise an old trailer house stood watch over the remains of a few rusted trucks and scattered trash of daily living. A man was resting a rifle across the hood of a pickup truck, taking aim at a very distant target. From what they could see, the target was remarkably small. Still, even at this distance the two could see little puffs of dust from exactly behind the target. The man could shoot, that was certain.

  Thomas looked at Charlie from where they kneeled, sheltered in a small declivity. “I wonder if that’s your shooter?”

  “Well, if it is I’m surprised he missed me. One thing’s for sure: he would make a likely recruit for anyone in the market for such talent.”

  They noticed the man carefully picking up his spent brass from the hood after each volley.

  “I don’t think you’ll find any shell casing up there in the canyon where you were shot at.” Thomas rubbed his chin. “Probably a re-loader too…most of these sharpshooters are.”

  They decided this might not be the best time to have this person discover them watching and quietly withdrew the way they had come. Thomas remembered the trailer once belonged to Tilde’s sister. It appeared this man doing the shooting lived there alone. No sign of a woman was to be seen. Thomas felt sure the shooter was George Jim.

  “I don’t think we will find Sally there,” Thomas ventured.

  As they made their way back to the horses, Thomas seemed deep in thought and finally wondered aloud, “How do you suppose they knew you would be having lunch in that cafe up in Bluff? You know…so Hiram could lure you up the canyon looking for Caleb?”

  Charlie pondered the question. “I’ve given that a lot of thought. I don’t think they did know. I think I was followed there from my phony appointment in Blanding. I believe Hiram would have eventually pulled me over with his little story regardless. I think the cafe was a lucky opportunity more than anything else.” He paused to wipe his forehead. “The real question is how I got called out to Blanding in the first place. I looked at the case file when I got back, and it was an actual case, but the woman involved never left the reservation, according to the records.”

  “So how do you explain Hiram’s niece working in the cafe?” asked Thomas, not willing to let it g
o.

  “Now, that may have been a coincidence,” Charlie admitted uncertainly. He held up a finger. “As long as we are on the subject of unlikely events, how did Sally Klee come to be living in Farmington with you and Freddy? She was raised right here, wasn’t she?”

  Thomas told the story as simply as he could. “Well, about the time Sally turned eighteen, an old aunt on her Navajo side had to go to a government care facility and sent word Sally could have her hogan near Farmington. Sally’s half-brother Freddy Chee, who brought the message, offered to take her back down to Farmington with him. She jumped at the chance.” Thomas went on a bit sadly, “Sally thought this would be a good move. I guess she thought she would find a happier life there.” He went on to tell how the Buck clan, with its sullen, ill-tempered girls, attracted few young men of a caliber suited for husbands. He thought Sally might have been afraid she would end up like her cousins. Thomas did not like to think about those times and withdrew from the conversation. They rode the rest of the way back to Aida’s in complete silence, though there was much more he could have said.

  The fact of the business was that Freddy Chee had ulterior motives for taking his half-sister to Farmington. He had been on his own since he was sixteen and was quite worldly in Sally’s view. Still, he had sunk to lows she could not fathom. Once settled near the more cosmopolitan Farmington, it had not taken her long to become enamored of Freddy’s good-looking friend Thomas Begay. She thought Thomas bright, quick-witted, and funny. In short, all the things she had found lacking at the Bucks. Thomas had a good job working as a mechanic in the tribal shops and could be very entertaining when sober. The couple immediately took up housekeeping in what now was considered Sally’s hogan. Freddy Chee was somewhat displeased with the arrangement but had a life of his own, and there were many other prospects to sidetrack his attention.

  The young couple spent a good portion of their spare time hanging around the Indian bars in the back section of Farmington and became well known among that element. Sally even took up drinking, herself, for a while until she became pregnant and realized where that path led. All in all, and having little better to compare it with, Sally thought her life in that new place a fairly happy one. It was only after the children came that Thomas’s drinking worsened, finally to the point he was unable to function in any sensible way. He soon lost his good job, causing him to depend on odd jobs working on cars that belonged to people who did not always pay.

  Sally, more and more, had to depend on handouts from Freddy Chee in order to keep the little family going. It was then that Freddy had returned and ordered Thomas out, not having had it in mind to support his sister when he brought her down there—quite the contrary in fact. Freddy had his finger in many pies.

  It was late afternoon when Charlie and Thomas finally arrived back at Aida’s barn. As they pulled the saddles off their horses, Charlie looked toward the house but saw no sign of anyone stirring.

  ~~~~~~

  That night, after the light in the barn had gone out, Aida told Sally that, from what she had gathered in conversation with Thomas and Charlie, Caleb was now in a safe place. She did not know how they had come by the boy. She only knew the two were now determined to find Sally and Ida.

  While Sally was greatly relieved at this news of her son and grateful for Thomas stepping in, she was still desperately worried about her daughter and what might happen should he interfere with Hiram’s plans. Both women agreed it might be best if no one knew Sally’s whereabouts. The less anyone knew about that, they thought, the better.

  ~~~~~~

  Sue Hanagarni thought Pete Fish had been acting rather strangely the last few days. He seemed particularly upset to see Charlie’s name penciled in on the callboard as on vacation.

  “When did Charlie Yazzie put in for vacation time?” he asked, looking confused. “I didn’t see that come across my desk.” Not that Charlie being out of the way bothered him. It gave him more of a free hand with Sue. But it did bother him not knowing what he was up to. Charlie Yazzie had become a serious thorn in the side of many important people of late, and his recent rise in the “old man’s” favor worried Pete Fish.

  Sue had an answer ready for that one. “Pete, Charlie put in for those days months ago.” She laughed. This was not strictly true of course, but Sue’s allegiance lay with Charlie. “You didn’t forget again, did you?” The office staff loved teasing Pete Fish about his poor memory, even though it was apparent he took the taunts seriously, and as office manager often retaliated in secret little paybacks. He was never an easygoing administrator, and after the corruption shakeup, had become nearly paranoid—seemed to have it in for nearly everyone in the office, except Sue, of course. He was as cloyingly attentive to her as ever. It was becoming an embarrassment, but he seemed not to notice. She had never given Pete Fish the slightest encouragement. Nonetheless, he had lately done everything possible to extend his brief office encounters with her and now seemed more determined than ever to have a relationship with the younger woman. The flowers on her desk every Monday morning were beginning to get on her nerves. Not that she didn’t like flowers. She just wished Charlie would send a few now and then.

  She thought Charlie’s reaction a bit odd when she told him it was Pete Fish who requested he travel up north for a deposition—a deposition Charlie thought could just as easily been handled by tribal police. She was beginning to think Charlie was keeping something to himself, or maybe he was just going through one of his little bouts of jealousy. If he was so jealous why didn’t he get off the dime and do something about it. An engagement ring would be nice, and it might make Pete Fish go away, too. There had been some encouraging signs of late, and Charlie seemed to be inching in the right direction, but she would be an old lady before he made his move at this rate.

  It was nearly quitting time when Lucy Tallwoman dropped by the office and asked Sue if they could talk.

  “Sure, let’s drop by the Dinè Bikeyah for a cup of coffee.”

  After the women had settled themselves in a booth and ordered, Lucy nervously looked around the nearly full cafe. “I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’m pretty sure someone is after Caleb.”

  “Is that what that fast exit at the mall was all about Sunday?” Sue stirred her coffee. “I didn’t see anything unusual…but then I’m not the most observant person in the world either.”

  Lucy nodded. “And I might not have seen anything that really meant anything, either, but Thomas told me before he left with Charlie that he had reason to believe someone might try to get Caleb back.” She frowned. “I don’t know whether he meant Caleb’s mother or what.” She darted a glance at the parking lot where the after-work dinner crowd was beginning to sift in, oilfield hands mostly, guys living in motels with no place else to go. A black Suburban with tinted windows pulled up in front, paused a moment as though judging how busy the place was, and then drove off in the direction of town.

  “Well, I’m not surprised you’re on edge if Thomas said that. Who wouldn’t be? What the hell’s wrong with him anyway, saying that and then taking off, leaving you alone here.” That wasn’t quite true of course. Lucy had her father, but still it did seem she was pretty much up against it by herself.

  “Yeah, that’s probably it alright. I’ve just got it in my head that something’s going to happen to the boy, and it’s making me crazy.”

  “Where is Caleb, anyway? With your dad?”

  “Yes, he’s had him out with the sheep since early this morning. I packed them a big lunch, and they took a quart of orange juice, of all things. My father says the boy needs all the vitamins he can get. We need to get some meat on him, he says. I don’t see how orange juice is going to do it.” She smiled in spite of herself. “He has taken quite a shine to that boy. Says he’s smart as a whip and is already a big help with the sheep. He says the dog hasn’t bitten him a single time either, though the boy roughhouses with him constantly. The dog likes him, too, I guess.”

  Sue chuc
kled. “Well, that’s quite something. Those old-time Navajo dogs like yours are known to be biters. My dad says we used to have one, and it was constantly trying to bite me on the ass and herd me around.”

  Lucy took a long last drink of her coffee. “I don’t know what to think really. I guess I was just wondering if you had heard anything from the boys or not.”

  “Not yet I haven’t, but you know a lot of the places up there are hard to get out of, communications wise. I’m sure they’ll get in touch when they can.” Sue really wasn’t sure how likely it would be for them to get in touch. Those two seemed to forget everything else when they were off together. It had been just the same in high school.

  Lucy picked up her keys and stood to go. “Hey, I really appreciate you taking time out to talk. I expect we will get through this just fine.”

  Sue nodded and followed her out the door. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” She almost said “Keep an eye on that kid” but thought better of it. Outside, a little dirt storm was blowing up, and they each ran for their trucks with one hand on their hair.

  ~~~~~~

  Seventy-five-year-old Paul T’Sosi and six-year-old Caleb Begay sat under a shaggy barked cedar tree, overlooking the hogan and beyond—clear to the state highway. “Want some more orange juice?” the old man asked. “This stuff is good for you—it will make hair on your chest.”