by Aimée Thurlo
“Some would agree with you,” he said with a shrug. “We don’t.”
“Your group opposes new exploration, I get that, but does that also make you the enemy of anyone working to make it happen?” Holly asked, giving her words no particular emphasis.
Nelson leaned back. “I know where you’re headed with that. You were physically attacked and you’re looking for someone to blame, but if you think my group was responsible, you’re way off base. Those kind of tactics would end up labeling us as extremists.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “To win this fight, we have to sway public opinion, and we can’t do that if we’re seen as criminals—or fools.”
She considered his words as she tried to make up her mind about Nelson. His whole demeanor was one of a person struggling to get ideas across, not a dangerous vigilante ready to spill blood for his cause.
“Helping us identify the person who’s coming after me would help prove that you’re law-abiding citizens, and want no part of something like that. Would you be willing to let us know if you hear anything?” she asked, glancing at Daniel, who still hadn’t said a word, then back at Nelson.
“Of course. That’s in both our interests,” Nelson said without hesitation.
Holly stood. “Thanks, and when you have some time, give me a call,” she handed him her business card. “You and I can sit down and talk at length about the new extraction process. I’ll take you through it step by step and answer all your questions. It is safe.”
“I may take you up on that,” he said. “We’re not unrealistic. We just want to make sure jobs don’t come at the expense of everything else.”
“If I thought that could happen, I wouldn’t have taken the job as spokesperson,” she said.
“I think you mean that,” Nelson said after a moment.
“Every word,” she answered.
Once they were back in Daniel’s car, Holly glanced over at him. “You were so quiet in there. How come?”
“You had it handled, and I was busy gathering other kinds of information. Regardless of how logical, levelheaded and plausible what he said seemed to be, there are things that don’t add up.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“According to the quick background check I did on them, even with donations, Clyde and Nelson barely make enough to keep body and soul together. Yet the pickup I saw parked in the back was brand-new and has a lot of optional extras.”
“Maybe it doesn’t belong to either of them.”
“I checked, and the plates match. The pickup belongs to Nelson.”
She stared at him, thinking about what he’d just told her. Daniel had been so quiet that somewhere along the way she’d concluded that he’d decided to stand back and remain a silent watchman. Instead, he’d been just as busy as she’d been.
“What else did you find out?” she asked.
“His boots.”
“What about them?”
“He had a pair of hiking boots in the corner of the room—brand-new—but one of the boots had no shoelaces.”
It took her a beat to take in what he meant. She swallowed hard. “Do you think the man who tried to strangle me used a shoelace to do it?”
“You were bruised not cut. You also told the police it wasn’t wire, more like corded cloth, remember?”
Holly nodded. “Yet what Nelson said was true—violent acts would destroy his credibility, as well as that of his group.”
“Violence also focuses attention on the issues and could benefit them in the long run. They can feed on the emotional publicity those incidents generate, just as long as there’s nothing that can link back to them. The article in the newspaper is a prime example of that.”
“I didn’t see it. What did the article say?” she asked.
“They identified you and the work you do for the tribe. Although they didn’t say that the attack was connected to your current assignment, they did say that the police were looking into all the possibilities.”
“So the association was made by inference, which still results in bad press for the tribe.” She expelled her breath in a soft hiss and shook her head. “I hear what you’re saying and you’ve made some good points, but that’s still not the feel I got from Nelson,” she said.
“Suppose he’s a better liar than you give him credit for?”
“Then we’re going to need more than a missing shoelace and a shiny pickup to show the police, aren’t we?” Holly said.
“Nelson needs to stay on our radar, at least for now.”
Daniel had almost reached the highway when a pickup with three men in the cab raced toward them.
Holly stiffened, bracing herself for a collision.
Daniel cursed, swerving hard to the right, and the pickup hurtled past them. The SUV swayed and kicked up a cloud of dust, but held traction. “What the—”
Holly turned around in her seat and looked back. “You think they’re going to Nelson’s?”
“They looked angry, and my bet is they’re looking for trouble. Hang on. I’m heading back there.” Daniel hit the brakes, skidded in the gravel, then whipped the vehicle around, sliding to rest in the opposite direction.
“Wait, what are you planning to do? There were three men in the cab. They could be armed,” she said, reaching for her cell phone. “Let me call for help. You’re going to be outnumbered.” She tried several times to dial, but there was no signal. “No bars.”
“Try mine,” he said, pointing to the one resting on the console between them.
“Nothing,” she said after a moment, “but maybe when we reach the top of this rise we’ll have some luck. The problem is that there aren’t too many cell towers between here and Gallup.”
“The entire Four Corners is plagued with dead zones,” he replied. “Someday, I’m getting a satellite phone.”
She was still waiting for a connection when they drove up to Nelson’s house. The pickup that had nearly sideswiped them was parked out front, but there was no sign of trouble.
“Everything’s quiet. Maybe we misjudged the situation.” Just then Holly heard angry shouts.
The front door suddenly burst open and two barrel-chested Navajo men came out, dragging Nelson by the arms. Though he was struggling, it was clear that Nelson had already lost the fight.
Then a third man, obviously working with the pair who’d overpowered Nelson, stepped into view. The man was massive, like a brick wall with legs. He was almost as wide as the doorway and looked as if he bench-pressed horses.
“Stay in the SUV and lock the doors,” Daniel ordered, then climbed out without looking back. “Hey, boys. Need some help with the little guy?” he called out. “Move on, hosteen,” the short, hefty guy snapped, “or you’re next.”
Nelson looked at Daniel, winked, then went completely limp. The man on Nelson’s left side suddenly lost his grip and Nelson fell to the ground, yanking his other arm free on the way down.
Nelson scrambled to his feet just as Daniel shot forward.
“Get him,” the stubby guy said, rushing Daniel, head and shoulders down and arms out like a defensive tackle.
Daniel held back a beat, timing it just right. At the last second he dodged left, throwing out his right leg and tripping the onrushing bull of a man. The guy grunted and fell on his face onto the gravel.
“Help!” Nelson punched blindly at the men trying to renew their hold on him. He caught one in the chest, but it didn’t even slow the man down.
Ignoring the man he’d just tripped, Daniel moved toward the one closest to Nelson. The guy swiveled on the balls of his feet, throwing a roundhouse left at Daniel’s face.
Daniel ducked, throwing a right uppercut at the man’s extended arm, catching him in the crux of his elbow. The man yelled in pain and sagged back. The third man grabbed Daniel’s left wrist, twisting it at the same time he tried to shake off Nelson, who’d jumped on his back, his arm wrapped around the man’s massive neck.
Nelson’s weight threw
him off balance and he let go of Daniel’s arm just as Daniel slammed the heel of his right hand into the center of his chest. The guy fell like a tipped-over refrigerator, pinning Nelson beneath him.
Hearing the onrush, Daniel kicked back, aiming for the face of the short guy who came at him. The guy ducked under the kick, picking up Daniel’s leg and heaving him to the ground. Three men were on the ground now, twisting, punching and kicking to get free.
As Daniel rose to a crouch, Nelson behind him, he found himself staring down a wall of muscle. If the trio all rushed him now, he’d go down no matter what.
Suddenly an earsplitting whistle broke his focus. “That’s enough!” Holly snapped, removing her fingers from her mouth. She waved her cell phone. “I’ve called the police, boys, and a cruiser with two officers is making the turn off the highway right about now. I’ve also got plenty of photos. Unless you want to spend Christmas and the New Year in a jail cell, I’d take the road out of here right now!”
The three muscle-bound guys exchanged glances, then raced to their pickup. Ten seconds later, they sped away in a cloud of dust and gravel.
Holly stepped over to Daniel and was glad to see he’d come out of the fight without a mark. Then she looked at Nelson. His eye was starting to swell and he had the beginnings of a nasty bruise on his cheek, but the only blood came from a cut on his lip.
“You’ll both be okay,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“That was fast thinking,” Nelson said, dabbing his cut lip with the back of his hand. “But how did you manage to get a cell phone signal out here?”
“What signal?” she said with a smile. “And as far as those photos go, you were all going at it so fast I doubt if anything was in focus.” She checked and laughed at the display. “Forget it. Everything except for the house is a blur.”
“So it was all a bluff?” Nelson said, then laughed.
“Remind me never to play poker with you,” Daniel said.
“You’d lose your shirt, buddy,” she said with a hint of a smile as she took Nelson’s arm and led him back inside to clean up.
Chapter Ten
They were on their way back to Hartley fifteen minutes later. “I wish Nelson had been willing to press charges,” Holly said. “Just because they disagree with his politics, no one has the right to barge in and attack someone in their own home.”
“The location really doesn’t make that much of a difference, does it?”
“Yeah, I think it does. Home…that should be a sanctuary for a person, a place beyond the world’s reach. I realize that’s idealistic, but it’s the way I feel.”
He didn’t answer.
“You disagree?” she asked after a long silence.
“If someone came after me, the location wouldn’t make much difference. Fighting—and winning—would.”
“I suppose it’s a matter of perspective,” she said.
“So where to next? Shall I take you home?” Daniel asked.
She checked her watch. It was five-thirty and close to dark now. “I’d appreciate it if you would drop me off there.”
Less than an hour later, Daniel pulled up in Holly’s driveway. Holly went to her mailbox, collected everything it held, then gave Daniel a smile. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll be fine now.”
“Before you go inside, let me check the interior and the backyard.”
“There’s no need. This a very quiet neighborhood.”
“It wasn’t the other night,” Daniel said, glancing down the block toward the coffee shop. “You’ve got to remember to stay on your guard until the guy who came after you is in jail.”
“You’re right,” she said, unlocking the door, then stepping aside. The porch light was on, the switch triggered by a photo sensor. “Go on in. I’ll wait here.”
“I’ll only need a few minutes, then I’ll be on my way,” he said, turning the knob.
When he switched on the inside light, the first thing that struck him was that the living room looked as if it had been beamed in from the past. The oversize furniture was, by and large, made of polished hardwoods, and the floor lamps all held stained-glass shades.
As he moved closer to the hall, he went past two wall mounted shelves that held an array of brightly, hand-painted rocks decorated to resemble ladybugs. They caught his eye and he smiled, but didn’t linger.
After searching the house and spending a couple of minutes looking out back, Daniel returned to the living room where Holly now stood. “Okay, it’s clear. You’re safe.”
“Thanks,” she said, walking him to the door.
“Your place has personality. I particularly like that collection of painted rocks.”
She shook her head and smiled. “When I was growing up there were times when my dad and I would need to raise cash in a hurry. To help, I made rock creatures and sold them. Ladybugs were my favorites, though I made fish, and even camels,” she said, then looked away as if uncomfortable.
He took the hint and didn’t pursue it. “Remember to keep the doors locked, the drapes drawn and stay away from the windows. A few precautions like that can go a long way,” he said, focusing on security details.
“I’ll be careful. Thanks again,” she said, then after a second’s hesitation added, “Before you go, would you like to have something to drink, maybe to help you stay awake on your drive home? I have flavored teas and coffees, too.”
“Coffee would be nice.”
“Which flavor would you like? I have English toffee, chocolate macadamia nut and cinnamon.”
“Surprise me,” he said.
To effectively protect Holly, he needed to get to know her habits and routines. This was as good an opening as he was going to get.
“Make yourself comfortable while I get things together,” Holly said, going into the kitchen.
As he stood by the fireplace mantel, he studied a half-dozen photos of Holly with her father. One showed her at seven or eight with both parents.
Minutes later, Holly came out holding a circular tray. On it were two mugs, one decorated with colorful Christmas ornaments and the other striped like a candy cane with a bright red handle.
“The peppermint stick mug has chocolate macadamia nut coffee. The other is cinnamon coffee. Choose whichever one you think you’d like most.”
Guessing that she’d probably prefer the chocolate, he chose the cinnamon coffee and took a sip. “It’s good.”
She laughed. “Don’t act so surprised.”
He smiled. “I’m more used to rot-your-gut black coffee.”
She took a seat on the couch, slipped off her shoes and tucked her legs under her. “This is usually my favorite time of year. I was planning to get my Christmas tree this week. I love decorating it, then decking out the entire house. I usually put lights on all the windows and on some of the trees outside. What about you?”
“Not so much. When Gene and I lived with Hosteen Silver we followed Navajo traditions and Christmas wasn’t something we went all out on. In fact, when we first came to live with him, the only holiday we celebrated was Thanksgiving. Eventually Gene and I, who were raised with Christmas, talked him into letting us put up a tree. We’d all go out, choose a piñon tree that seemed right, chop it down and bring it home. After the holiday was over, we’d dry it out and use the wood in the stove or fireplace.” He glanced back at the mantel. “I noticed all the photos. Were you and your family close?”
She considered it before answering, and that pause told him far more than words alone could have.
“My mother passed away when I was seven. My dad…was hard to describe.”
“Was? He’s also gone?”
She nodded. “He died doing what he loved best—gambling. He was in Vegas at a poker tournament and slumped over dead at the table from a heart attack.”
“He taught you to play cards? I remember you said that if we ever played poker, I’d lose,” he said.
She smiled. “Yeah. I learned from the best, but I won’t play, not e
ven a friendly game. I’ve seen the dark side of gambling.”
“The Navajo way teaches that everything in life has two sides. To walk in beauty, you need to keep all the elements of your life in their proper balance.”
“Yeah, and when people can’t do that, sometimes things fall apart.” As soon as she spoke, she shook her head and looked away.
Daniel could see that she regretted telling him. “You’re a private person, and I’ve intruded.” He set the cup down and stood.
“Don’t go yet. You didn’t intrude. I volunteered the information,” she said. “It’s just that I’m uncomfortable talking about certain parts of my past.”
“In that, we’re alike,” he said, taking his seat again. “So let’s talk about something else. Tell me about this place. I know your home is special to you.”
She smiled. “The house dates back to the early forties and it was a complete wreck when I bought it. Fixing up the outside was easy, but turning the interior into a real home was a lot harder, and it wasn’t just the lath and plaster walls. To me, the perfect home has to have that same special warmth you get looking at Norman Rockwell paintings. Since we were always on the move when I was growing up, what I’ve tried to create here is a place that, like those images, speaks of permanence. Best of all, once I pay off the mortgage, this place will be all mine.”
He considered what she hadn’t said, and wondered how long she’d stared at the paintings she’d mentioned, ones he knew depicted so-called perfect American families and lifestyles. He looked around more slowly, taking everything in.
“Restoration means a great deal to you, doesn’t it?” he asked.
“To me, it’s more than just the act of restoring,” she said, considering her words. “I see what I do as making a place for the old among the new.” She stared at the floor, lost in the thought. “In my work, I sometimes see new technologies trampling over what has always been there, like nature. Yet both can coexist. It just takes effort, and the extra work pays off in the long run.”
“Your way of looking at things isn’t far off Diné teachings. We believe that all of life is connected. The way to harmony is to recognize the natural order of things and find your place within that.”
