He’d wandered off the subject, but that was okay. There seemed to be so many basics for her to learn.
“I need a better explanation.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Traditional Dineh believe it is rude to use proper names. So, as children, we’re given secret warrior names by an elder of our clan and sometimes we’re also given nicknames by our friends or families. Not all of us use the childhood names, however. Mostly, we just go by our relationship names. You know, like Son, Mother, Cousin. It’s easier.”
“I get that. But what’s so rude about using the name of a dead person who can’t hear what you say about him?”
“That’s a whole other lesson for another time. Remember our talk about Kody and the murder victim? There’s quite a few Dineh traditions about death and killing. And I’m not sure you’re in good enough shape for learning much more today. How’s the pain?”
“Not too bad.” But every time she moved she knew that statement was a lie.
“Relax. We’re nearly there. Only fifteen or twenty more miles. Can you make it?”
Teal nodded and closed her eyes. She tried to think about how best to go about her inquiries into the murder, but ended up wondering what Lucas was thinking about instead. He was awfully quiet.
About ten minutes later Lucas turned the SUV yet again, this time off the asphalt onto a gravel road that seemed to lead upward into a section of pine-green hills. He hadn’t said a word in fifteen minutes. It made her nervous.
“Have you ever been in love, Bright Eyes?” he asked at last.
She deserved that one and should’ve seen it coming. It was only fair that she give him as honest an answer as he’d given her to a nosy question.
“No, I guess I can’t really say that I have. I was infatuated once and thought I was madly in love—for at least two whole weeks. And I have definitely been in lust—a couple of times. But real love? Nope.”
Lucas kept his thoughts to himself and appeared to be concentrating on the road ahead. Which was probably just as well from her point of view. What more needed to be said from either of them about the subject of love and marriage?
Besides, if he wanted any more personal answers, he could darn well read her mind to get them.
Lucas downshifted at the top of a familiar rise. Not much further now. For a moment he wished he could become one of the unnaturally evil, like the Skinwalkers, so he could use his supernatural powers and fly Teal the rest of the way to his grandmother’s, though he knew such ideas were wrong to consider.
But even without being able to read her thoughts, he’d felt Teal’s suffering. He knew of her pains, not by hearing them in his mind the way he used to, but by the manner in which she cringed at every bump in the road and winced whenever she needed to shift around in her seat.
She was being so brave and trying to be so tough. It was killing him.
Remembering back to the hundreds of nights he had dreamed of her, Lucas would’ve known that much about her anywhere. But what he hadn’t known was how he would feel about it when faced with the reality. Every ache of hers stabbed at his heart. Every pain was magnified a million times in his own limbs.
He hadn’t saved her from suffering when it mattered the most. At least, not the way he had many times in his dreams.
When he’d asked her about ever being in love, he’d hoped, or maybe even expected, to hear her tell him about a dream lover. Alean, athletic man who for years had come to her side during long lonely nights. But her answer had been nothing like what he’d wanted to hear. Hadn’t Teal ever dreamed of him the way he had dreamed of her?
Worse by far than feeling her pains in his own body, Lucas was actually beginning to worry that he might not be the right man for the job of protecting her in Navajoland. Over the last thirty-six hours, her presence had been blocking most of the noises he’d heard in his head ever since he could remember. The thoughts from Teal’s mind had disappeared almost immediately after he’d realized who she really was. But over the last few hours, the thoughts of others had also begun to fade away.
A forgotten series of gravel grates in the road a few miles from his grandmother’s hogan caused the SUV to jolt as it went over the bumps. Lucas slashed a fast glance over to the woman in the passenger seat. Her eyes were closed, but he saw pain etched in her face, causing tight little lines around her eyes and mouth. He vowed to be more careful, but the boulders on each side of the road pretty much precluded him from avoiding the worst of the ruts.
In the absence of Teal’s thoughts, Lucas’s own thoughts went back to the circumstances of losing his gift. He’d always considered the psychic gift of foresight as more of a burden than a pleasure. And many times in his life he’d wished it would just go away. That he would wake up completely normal someday.
His amá sání had the gift, too, and her life had never been easy. But she’d never felt singled out and remote by being a stargazer, the way he had as a child.
In the last few years though, he’d found a place to belong amongst the Brotherhood, with cousins and clansmen who did not judge him. And what’s more, they needed him and his talents. He was their equal in the Skinwalker war. He’d contributed. He’d mattered to people in a personal way and not just as an artistic talent or the weirdo clansman.
What would the Brotherhood think of him when they discovered his talents were gone? What could he do for them then?
Grinding the gears one last time in order to top the hill and dip down into his amá sání’s meadow, Lucas nearly cried out with relief. Teal would soon be getting the help she needed to conquer her pain.
But he would have little part in the cure. He could stand guard over her, yes. But when it was important, when he should’ve been there for her, once more he was going to be the odd man out.
The strange guy who didn’t fit in.
Teal felt the SUV come to a stop and she opened her eyes. Lucas had parked in front of one of those eight-sided buildings she’d noticed from a distance during her travels around the reservation. But up close, this one looked homey, with curtains in the windows and smoke coming from a pipe in the center of the roof.
“Is this where your grandmother lives?” She reached for the door handle.
Lucas lightly put his hand on her shoulder. “We need to give it a few minutes. Navajos wait to be invited inside.”
“Another tradition?” His hand was warm and slightly tingling as it lay against her sweatshirt.
“Yes,” he said and removed his hand.
Teal felt the absence of warmth like a shot of ice water.
“It’s meant to give the People in remote areas a chance to decide whether they wish to have visitors or not,” he added. “There are still plenty of distant places on the reservation that do not have electricity or phone service.”
“Isn’t your grandmother expecting us?”
“I gave her a cell phone a few years ago, in case of emergencies. And I called before we left your house to tell her we were on the way. But still, we must wait.”
The front door opened at that moment and an ancient-looking woman stepped across the threshold. She raised her hand slightly then let it drop back to her side.
“Wait there a second while I come around,” Lucas told Teal.
He bounded out of the driver’s-side door and was around to her side before she had a chance to open her own door. Jerking the passenger door open, Lucas reached in and tenderly lifted her in his arms.
“Hey. I can walk on my own. I’m not that hurt.”
Before she could blink, he’d carried her through the front door and gently lowered her onto an overstuffed sofa. The room around her looked worn and slightly shabby, but it was cozy and inviting and smelled heavenly.
Lucas said something to the old woman in Navajo. Teal had been studying the language, but the only words she recognized were ya’at’ eeh and amá sání—hello and grandmother.
In English, he introduced them. “Special Agent Teal Benaly, this is my grandmother, Hele
na Gray Goats.” He leaned down close to Teal’s ear and whispered. “When you speak to her, call her Grandmother.”
“You are in much pain, Daughter.” The old woman bent over her and spoke in a rusty voice. “Before my medicine can help, you must have a short blessing ceremony to restore harmony. My grandson will do the Sing as I prepare the elixir.”
She reached into her pocket and handed something to Teal. “Here’s a fetish to hold. It has guided the women of my clan for generations. It will see you through.”
Looking down at her palm, Teal saw the crude statue of a woman that seemed to be made from a combination of turquoise and white shell. Tipping her chin up again, she looked closely at the kindly grandmother; Helena Gray Goats certainly seemed more spry than Teal.
Teal took a good look at her. The old face was round and plump but crisscrossed with a zillion deep crevices, making her look as if she had lived through at least eighty summer suns. Her expression was friendly and pleasant, and the sweet face was framed by thin wisps of silver hair.
Looking up into the woman’s kind, concerned eyes, Teal was stunned to realize that one of the old lady’s eyes was black and the other blue. Even though she felt no fear from Lucas’s grandmother, a chill ran down her spine simply at the sight of those odd eyes.
The old woman patted the backside of Teal’s closed fist, then glanced up at her grandson. “Do what you can, but be quick.”
The elderly lady turned, and Teal watched her hunched-over body as she made her way past an elaborate Navajo blanket hung in front of an interior doorway. When she’d disappeared, Lucas sat beside Teal on the sofa.
“Grandmother must be nearing ninety,” he told her in a quiet voice. “Osteoporosis and rheumatism wrack her body, yet the elixir she makes keeps her walking and taking care of herself. She’ll be able to cure your aches.”
“What’s this about a curing ceremony you are supposed to sing for me?”
He smiled and a flicker of some special emotion appeared in his eyes. “Medicine men are trained to do curing ceremonies for the People. Each ceremony is called a Sing because a big part of it includes chanting. But the ceremonies also include special potions, and occasionally there are sacred sand paintings that must be done.
“Most of our Sings take days, and can be over a week long,” he explained. “The whole point of them is to restore balance and harmony to the patient. I have a short chant I will perform for you now, if I may. But a Sing can only help those who understand and believe. I’m not sure…”
“Just do it, will you? I don’t wanna have to tell your amá sání that her grandson refused to help.”
An hour later, Lucas had stepped outside and Teal was seated at a table in a fascinating, old-style kitchen, located behind the Navajo blanket she’d seen from the front room. She was watching Lucas’s grandmother as she bustled around gathering dried leaves from bundles of herbs that hung from the ceiling. A little strange-seeming to Teal’s city girl’s eyes, but she figured this room had to be the origin of those mouthwatering smells. Yum.
Lucas’s Sing had been quite interesting, mostly because he had a wonderful mellow singing voice. Teal hadn’t understood a word, of course, and she had no idea why he’d done things like throwing little flecks of pollen in the air. But his tone and his touch had soothed her, calmed her. It had been an experience she would never forget.
“You must wear this,” his grandmother told her as she placed a heavy Navajo rug over her head and draped it across her shoulders.
“I love these blankets,” Teal gushed. “Each of them looks different. Do artists like Lucas make them?”
The old woman shook her head. “Dineh weaving is done only by women. For some of us it is a calling, passed down through the generations from mother to daughter. We were originally taught by Spider Woman and we weave today out of respect for her.
“The rugs you see in this hogan are old, woven by my clan. Some by me in younger days.”
“Really? They’re beautiful. You’re very talented.” Teal noticed three big pots steaming on the wood-burning stove. “What smells so good in here?”
Lucas’s grandmother turned to the stove. “This is for you.” She picked up one of the pots by its handle and placed the whole thing on a large wooden plate sitting on the table directly in front of Teal.
“You breathe the steam,” the old woman said as she gently bent Teal’s head over the pot.
Ah. Like one of those old vaporizers people used on kids to help their breathing. Teal vaguely remembered her sister needing one as a baby.
As she took deep breaths of the slightly sweet and spicy steam, Teal could feel her body relaxing even more. Her shoulders dropped and her eyelids grew heavy. For the first time in almost two days, the aching began to subside.
A few minutes later, Lucas’s grandmother removed the steaming pot and placed a bowl of something that looked like thick soup before her. “You eat. I will sit. We talk.”
“What is this—stew?” Whatever it was, the stuff was giving off that heavenly smell.
“It is known as mutton stew. It is made from lamb meat.”
Teal put a spoonful in her mouth and moaned in pleasure. It was to die for.
“You eat,” Grandmother insisted as she sat down beside her. “I want to tell you a story.”
“Hmm,” Teal managed past her full mouth. Anything the elderly woman said was okay by her right now.
“There once was a boy, a bright child with many talents. He laughed and ran and dreamed in the sun.” The old woman watched her closely, making sure Teal was paying attention.
She was definitely paying attention, and felt sure the story would turn out to be about Lucas. Filling her mouth again, she nodded for his grandmother to continue.
“This young boy was bright and had inherited special gifts from his maternal clan, gifts his grandmother would help him to understand.
“The more he learned and understood, the more unhappy his parents became. Because, you see, they did not possess the gifts. His special gifts had skipped the mother and were passed down to him instead.”
Teal stopped eating for a moment. “His own mother was jealous of the gift he’d inherited from her family?”
Ignoring the question, Grandmother continued, “As he grew, loneliness became his constant companion. Cousins and playmates teased and made fun. So the boy stopped playing and practiced running faster—and dreamed more and more.”
Teal didn’t like the way this story was going. She set the spoon down and watched the elder’s expression. The unusual old eyes were watery with unspent emotion. Suddenly Teal’s appetite disappeared.
“The day he mastered his gift and saw the future was his worst day. He saw his own life—alone through the years, save for his grandmother.
“You see, Daughter,” Grandmother continued in a raspy, quiet voice. “The boy’s parents could not bear their son’s differences. That very day they left the sacred lands, never to return. They turned their backs on their clan and on their only son.”
With her stomach churning, Teal brushed away a single tear that escaped to run down her cheek. “How old was he then?”
“He’d celebrated his eleventh year only weeks before.”
Oh, Lucas.
Teal’s own life had changed dramatically when she was eleven, so she immediately felt empathy for the sad little boy he must’ve been. When they’d first met, she’d believed they didn’t have much in common except being loners. But now she knew they were alike in other ways, as well. Her heart cried for him.
Oh, Lucas…
6
U nder the cobalt-blue sky, Lucas had been pacing behind his grandmother’s hogan and worrying about Teal for several hours now. He knew she would be safe with his amá sání, but would her Anglo sensibilities allow her Navajo side to accept their help?
She simply had to take the assistance his grandmother offered. He wasn’t sure he could stand another minute of watching the pain reflected in Teal’s eyes
as her body fought her spirit.
For lack of anything better to do with his hands, he picked up a rock and prepared to skip it across his grandmother’s stock tank. Before he could follow through, the Brotherhood’s satellite phone buzzed in his pocket.
The specialized ring told him it was his cousin, Michael Ayze, calling. A founding member of the Brotherhood, Michael was also Councilman Ayze’s eldest son. And he’d been the key to Lucas convincing the FBI that he should be Teal’s translator and guide.
“Ya’at’ eeh, Cousin.” Michael’s voice came through the earpiece. “Have you heard the news?”
Lucas remembered Kody telling him that his brother Hunter Long and Michael Ayze had recently taken leave from their jobs in order to scour the northern sections of the reservation, looking for a lost map. Perhaps this news would be good for a change.
“News?” He waited for Michael to explain.
“You haven’t been listening to the radio this afternoon?” Michael asked, surprising him by the different direction. “The Dineh station, KTNN…660?”
Impatient for his cousin to get to the point, Lucas’s breath caught when he became fully aware that for the first time in his memory he wasn’t reading Michael’s thoughts. He couldn’t foresee his cousin’s words.
Lucas’s silence was apparently a good enough answer to the question for Michael.
“The news is not good, I’m afraid,” Michael told him. “You know that DJ, Chili Redhorse? The one who likes to stir up political trouble? Well, his most recent rant has been about the wasting of our water resources by the coal company at Black Mesa mines.
“This morning,” Michael continued, “he informed his listeners that a decent, hardworking Navajo had been murdered for investigating the trouble near the mines. Then Chili went on to say that the feds have put a brand-new agent on the case, a woman called Special Agent Teal Benaly.”
“What? How did he hear about her? I thought this was a nonpublic joint investigation.”
“Not anymore. I thought you should know.”
Lucas was stunned and afraid for Teal’s safety. Whoever had murdered the one who’d died now knew exactly who was looking for him. That could not be good.
Books by Linda Conrad Page 81
