After getting her degree, Sháńdíín was eager to put her new knowledge and training to work for her people. Naturally, she returned to her arid home with ideas of change and righting some old wrongs. She had the idealism of a young person and the energy and will to do something.
She asked to meet with the elders and told them she had a mission. “There are some things wrong with the property rights to our land,” she told them. “In my studies, I found some clues that indicate we were cheated and that we own more land that the deeds show.”
“We have enough land,” the elders said.
Then she smiled a glittering smile. “This land has water under it,” she told them. She showed them on the map. According to the map, the land was a small corner of a large parcel managed by the Bureau of Land Management.
“Can it be?” they all asked.
In this part of the country, water is gold. If she was right, the tribe could have new opportunities. A lack of water limited grazing land as well as new construction. Sabrina had focused her history studies on Native Americans and her law study on contract rights, so she was believed, but how could this information be used? “If what you say is true, what can we do about it?” the elders asked her.
“Research comes first,” she said. “If I can find the trail of deed transfers, then we can sue to have our land returned. And she began a crusade that lasted more than a year.
Starting in Santa Fe, then Albuquerque, she combed the public records. The trail led her to Gallup, the county seat of the area the Ramah reservation sits on. But many of the records had been transferred, ironically, to Raman. They were simply boxes and boxes of unsorted documents. She made notes, copies, created files, and sent away for other documents.
The only one paying much attention to the quest was a reporter from a Gallup newspaper... an old school friend named Jerry Cashman. She told him what she was doing, and he wrote about it. The small piece, printed on a back page, stirred up a hornet’s nest. Ranchers who grazed their stock on the BLM land were concerned that they might lose valuable grazing land. Although any fighting that came from Sabrina’s research would be court battles, these people, many of them third generation ranchers, saw this as an attempt by the Indians to steal away land they’d grown accustomed to using as their own.
Apparently, Sabrina called Jerry, excited about what she’d discovered. She asked him to meet her at the office where she was working. He had a full-time job, but agreed to meet her there that evening. Everyone knew that much because Jerry told his editor that he might come in late the next morning and that he was following up on this story. After the excitement the story had created, the editor was glad to let him go.
WHEN THE SHAMAN SAT back, apparently finished with his story, Charli stared at him. “So what happened?”
Iron Eyes looked at her calmly. “You know.”
She licked her lips as she digested it all. If she was right, then the rest of the story fit what Iron Eyes had said perfectly. “They brought her to you,” she said. Iron Eyes said nothing. “You called for the rattle to heal her, because she, what she had discovered was vital to the tribe’s future. The tribe, the Navajo nation would prosper with water.”
“That’s true,” Iron Eyes. For the first time she seemed to have surprised him.
Again she wondered how he knew. “Coyote was there. When you were done, you gave the rattle to...”
The sense that she was being watched made her turn to look to the side. A man was there, watching them. He was an ordinary man with a mustache. A Mexican perhaps?
She looked back at Iron Eyes, questioning. He simply nodded. When she looked back at the man again, all she saw was a coyote running through dust kicked up by warm desert winds.
“You can’t take your eyes off him for a minute,” Iron Eyes said.
“You saw the man too?”
“Man?” He grinned broadly. “I think our friend is enjoying himself with your confusion. Just allow him his fun.”
“The trickster,” she muttered. “In the dream, he returned the rattle.”
“He did? My, my. So, in this version of the story, do you want to be the hotshot investigator who takes the rattle back to return it to the museum, or should I have Coyote return it as he seems to have intended?”
Charli hadn’t expected that. “Don’t you need it?”
“No. Not any more. We used it to do what needed to be done.”
“And Sabrina?”
“Is fine.”
“Really? A woman is shot in the head with what everyone thinks is a fatal wound and now, a few days later, she is fine?” It seemed probable that, at best, she was in a coma.
“It is a very good healing rattle,” Iron Eyes said. “Besides, in your dream you saw her not die. How could I not fulfill my part? Now, about the rattle. Do you want it?”
Still, that wasn’t the question she’d been asked. So, although she was dying to know more, she understood that she was being called on to show patience. Charli considered the options carefully. Taking the rattle back and giving it to the cranky curator and getting credit for earning her pay would also mean answering a lot of uncomfortable, nearly unanswerable questions, and probably having to expend some effort to talk the authorities out of trying to arrest Iron Eyes for some perceived crime. If Coyote returned it, then she wouldn’t have to deal with him or be expected to know what happened. It would turn a theft into the appearance of one. That it would unsettle the curator just added to its merit. “Why don't we just let Coyote finish what he, or you, or we, started.”
Iron Eyes smiled. “Good. The right working of things. He probably won’t do it instantly. He tends to procrastinate, but he'll do it within a couple of days if that’s okay.”
“I suppose so,” Charli said. “Best if he could do it sooner, rather than later. If it was there when we got back."
"I'll suggest he get the lead out," Iron Eyes said. "He won't want people poking around more than they are already."
"I have to say that your right working of things is a very strange one," Charli said. "In fact it is rather unsettling.”
“That’s because it’s the right working of very strange things,” a voice said. She turned and saw a dark-haired woman in her twenties. Her brown eyes sparkled and there were blood stains on her blouse. Charli had seen that blood-stained blouse before, and those brown eyes. She’d seen them flicker open in her dream. But it couldn’t be... “Sabrina?”
The woman smiled casually. “Oh hi. You must be Bonita, the dreamer I’ve heard so much about. I saw you...” she touched her hair where it was sticky with blood, then started. “Sorry I look like this. Getting nearly killed is a messy business.”
Iron Eyes pointed to the package Charli had brought. “Uncle Raymond sent you fresh clothes.”
“Great.” She grabbed it and hugged it. “Thanks. I’ll grab a shower now and be right out.”
“That’s really Sabrina?” Charli asked again as the woman disappeared back into the bedroom.
He nodded. “We call her Sháńdíín, but...”
“I know. The Navajo are a flexible people.”
He smiled. “We are. About some things. We aren't rigid about linguistics. Now, if you don’t mind a short break in the narrative, it might be better to let her explain the next part of the story. It will preserve the flow.” He smiled. “Besides, I’m sure you might have some questions for her.”
Might was not a word that came to Charli’s mind when it came to questions. She had tons of questions. Meeting a woman thought to be fatally injured who then walks into the room with little more than a headache... yeah, tons of questions. And one of them was how was it that she knew Charli, and as Bonita?
Chapter Twelve
A Story of Survival
A short time later, Sabrina came out looking refreshed wearing a tee shirt, jeans, and trainers. “That’s more like it,” she said. “Thanks for bringing those.”
“How did Raymond know to send them to you?”
“That’s right. Well, the insurance company asked me to investigate what happened to it.”
“And you came right to it. That must be a disappointment to find it so easily.”
“Well, that will please the insurance company because they pay me by the day. They’ll be happy to learn they aren’t going to have to pay out on you as well. So I guess Coyote will return the rattle now. Is that right Iron Eyes?”
Iron Eyes grinned. “Well, he is supposed to, but Coyote plays many games, some funny, some cruel.” The shaman stared out the window. “Although he is a part of the grand scheme, it amuses him to confuse things and then watch humans try to make sense of it all. So sometimes he will do something irrelevant but nonsensical.”
“And it’s human nature to organize things to fit our world view,” Charli said.
The shaman nodded. “Just as it is Coyote’s nature to make that nearly impossible, even when he does good.”
Sabrina slapped her knees. “Well, seeing as we are talking about returning things, I was wondering if I could trouble you for a ride back to Ramah City. I need to let people know I’m okay and I have unfinished business.”
“Then you found something, as Jerry said.”
“I did. Years ago, a Shaman saved the life of a rancher’s wife. They had no children, and when he died, he left some property with water on it to the tribe. That didn’t sit well with the locals so they made sure the will wasn’t ever fully executed. But the documents are there. I have a lot of forms to fill out, but I’ll be able to prove our case.”
“I think the tribal police will need a statement too,” Iron Eyes said. “You are thought to be dead. They’ll want to correct that.”
“I have to fill out more forms to be alive again?” she laughed. “Maybe I’ll stay dead. It’s a way to not have to pay taxes.”
“You seem pretty chipper for someone who was so close to death,” Charli said.
She grinned and smiled at Charli. “Except for a massive headache, I feel good. Being shot was a shock, but after that I don’t recall much. Now I just feel like getting right back to work.”
Charli sat and stared, unbelieving. “If it weren’t for the wound and the blood stains I saw on your clothes, I’d never believe you’d ever been injured.”
Iron Eyes laughed. “I told you it’s one hell of a rattle,” he said. “Maybe that’s why Coyote keeps it locked up. If I had it sitting in the back room, it's likely that no one around here would ever die.” Then he laughed. “Of course, in the white man’s world, they think that’s a good thing.”
“Well, I’m glad I get to live a little longer,” Sabrina said.
“Please...” Charli said, “Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. Who shot you? And why?”
Sabrina shrugged. “Some guys from one of the ranches were trying to intimidate me into stopping my research,” she said. “They came in waving guns around and making threats. I don’t take well to intimidation, and I got kind of sassy.” She gave them an embarrassed smile. “I made a big mistake. I told them I’d found what I was looking for and they were too late.”
“Was that true?”
“It was. I was gloating. Bad idea, by the way. Lesson learned. Anyway, they were slapping me around, trying to get me to tell them what I’d found and where I’d put it. I think they just wanted to destroy the evidence and it was under their noses. The evidence was in a ledger on the desk, but even if they’d seen it... you need to know what you are looking for. There was a reference to the rancher’s will along with the documents that a county official used to declare the land public property. The original will was filed, and it had the number I can use to contact Santa Fe and get a copy.”
“So they were unprepared, not knowing what to take?”
“Right. Because of that, these guys worked themselves into a frenzy. They’d expected to terrify the little lady and walk out with whatever she’d found. They needed my proof but had no idea what it might be. So they started frantically talking about burning the place down. About then my friend Jerry showed up. They panicked. Of course, I knew who they were, and as one of them went to cut off Jerry, the other one decided that if I was dead, the problem was solved. It happened so fast...”
“So you essentially talked yourself into a bullet.”
“Stupid, right? But that’s what happened. Thinking I was dead, they ran off and everything went black.” She looked at Iron Eyes. “Uncle, I need you to tell the next part, because I don’t know it.”
Iron Eyes nodded. “When the tribal police answered Jerry’s 911 call, they found him unconscious and our girl dying. The paramedics arrived and realized she’d be dead in hours. She needed to be transferred to a major trauma center, but the only medivac helicopter was in the shop. She’d never survive an ambulance ride to Gallup.” Iron Eyes started out the window. “We were fortunate. One of the paramedics is the nephew of Raymond Talks-with-Wolves. He is strongly rooted in our culture. He had his partner drive here like a madman while he was in back with Sháńdíín. Because of his work, I’d given him a healing packet and he was smart enough to use it.”
“A healing packet?”
“It’s a pouch containing some traditional healing things he could use to help her until he got her here. Corn pollen for a blessing, some rattlesnake rattles, powdered cow bone... standard stuff.”
“Just your basic tribal first-aid kit,” Charli said.
“Right.” She saw he was serious. “While he used the packet as I’d taught him, he also called his Uncle Raymond and told him what was going on. The idea that the backward Indians would endanger a girl by taking her to a Shaman instead of letting her die on the way to the hospital was never going to play well if the media got their hands on the story, so Raymond told the tribal police they had to come up with a story to cover what we were doing. These young people on our force are good kids, but not that quick on their feet sometimes. They lack imagination; the best they could come up with was to claim that the body disappeared. Of course, they know ghosts are real and forget that the whites are skeptics.”
“And the rattle?”
Iron Eyes raised a finger. “About the time Sháńdíín was shot, I had a vision. I saw your dream.”
“My dream?”
“You called me into it and showed me what would happen. I called on Coyote to fetch the rattle. As I said, he dropped it off here before the ambulance arrived.”
“Why did you call for it now, for Sabrina?” Charli asked. “Not that I think you were wrong, but I understand its only for special cases. Certainly people on the reservation have been killed before and you haven’t sent for it.”
Iron Eyes said, “For the same reason you dreamed your dream. We all are caught in the flow of First Man and First Woman’s plans. You wouldn’t dream about her and Coyote wouldn’t bring the rattle simply because Sháńdíín is far too young to die that way. Life and death, timely and untimely are part of the natural order. You called us with the dream because her work is far too important to the tribe to allow her to die. The survival of our people is tied to her survival.”
“The land with water on it means that much?”
“Yes.” Iron Eyes twinkled. “But even gaining water wouldn’t be enough to make you dream or convince Coyote. No, I think she must be important because of work she will do in years to come. Her future and that of the tribe.”
Sabrina laughed. “Well maybe so, Uncle. I’ll take your word for that. But before I can fulfill some grand plan, well, I think I'd better finish this job.” Sabrina smiled at Charli. “So can I catch that ride, Bonita? Uber won’t come out here even though Charlie Waters does give rides a little closer to town. And Uncle Ir
on Eyes is too cheap to buy himself a car.”
“Things I need and that need me find their way here,” he said. “You did.”
“So I did. And I thank you for your work as you worked to protect mine.”
Charli felt her hands trembling. She held out her keys. “That’s fine, but you’ll have to drive. I feel like I have just seen someone come back from the dead.”
“That’s because that’s exactly what you saw,” Sabrina said cheerfully.
“That’s an exaggeration,” Iron Eyes said, scolding her. “You were injured and then healed, although it was intensive damage and the healing was faster than normal.”
She touched her head. “I’ll say. The bullet wound is still tender, but that’s a lot nicer to deal with than gushing blood.” She kissed Iron Eyes on the forehead. “So thank you, Uncle. I will remember what you said.” Then she took Charli’s keys and started for the car. “Say, before we face having to explain my being alive to everyone, do you mind if we stop somewhere for a bite to eat? I imagine I lost a lot of blood and I’m dying for a burger and fries.”
“No problem,” Charli assured her. “You know, after this, it's very clear that I need to learn to accept my dreams,” she said. “At least trust in them more.”
“Keeping in mind that none of it would hold up in court,” Sabrina said.
“Speaking of which, what will you tell the police? About what happened?”
“I'll tell them exactly what happened....” She smiled. “To the best of my knowledge. I’ll tell them about the guys and getting shot.”
An Unearthly Undertaking Page 7
