Magpie Speaks

by R. Allen Chappell

  “Harley, I think Anita’s parents are taking care of all the arrangements. I’m sure we’ll be notified in due time.” Charlie knew this wouldn’t sit well with his friend but figured it best if he knew now rather than be surprised later.

  George Custer was particularly saddened by Harley’s predicament. “Now, Harley, you know you can count on the company for an advance should you need it… just until you get on your feet. But Harley… No drinking! If I can do without it so can you.”

  When his cheeseburger came, Harley just sat and stared at it. Thomas looked over and said, “If you’re not going to eat that… I will. It’s not that often Charlie buys, and I don’t want it going to waste.”

  Harley picked up the burger and took a huge bite. “It ain’ gonna’ go ta waste.” He chewed, and then stuffed a french fry in his mouth. “And George, I’m not gonna be drinking no more if I can help it, and I don’ really need any money right now either. I can wait until the project gets going. I still got a little work ta do for Charlie anyways.”

  When the talk got around to the murders at Gobernador Wash, Professor Custer took a particular interest. “I was just reading a paper the other day that indicated the Navajo people may have first migrated into the Four Corners from that direction. They didn’t come all at once, of course, just gradually filtered in from the north. There was some evidence of them passing through around Santa Fe, I believe, but the first solid indicators of them seem to turn up around Gobernador.”

  Thomas looked surprised. “I don’t know how they got along up there in that country; there’s not much to it, but I guess maybe it was different back then.” He shook his head at the uncomfortable thought of his forebears scratching out a bare existence in that harsh land while he sat in a nice warm cafe eating a cheeseburger and fries. “Paul T’Sosi’s people came from that region––he says the old people called it the ‘starving place.’

  Custer nodded. “I expect so. The great drought of that period had already been in progress for some time when the first Navajo came through. Those early people must have constantly been on the bitter edge of survival. Those are the kind of stories that tend to get passed down.”

  “Probably why they just kept on trucking down here into this country, where there’s some rivers and streams––not much water up in that part of Dinéta, even now.” Thomas had often wondered how his ancestors had survived so harsh a land as that; he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have been up to it.

  Charlie turned to the professor. “Speaking of Paul T’Sosi, have you given any thought to some small job he might be able to handle, even if it’s only when you’re working a project nearby?”

  “I’m looking into that, Charlie, and may know something as soon as next week.” The professor then addressed them all, “We hope to have a small office in Farmington––should the bank agree to fund us to that extent. I was thinking Paul might man the phones and radio. We’ll need someone that’s bilingual and has at least a basic understanding of what were doing.”

  Thomas nodded approval of this. “And exactly what will we be doing? You know… just so Harley will know what we’re in for.”

  Harley frowned, mumbling around a bite of cheeseburger, “I doubt you know anymore about it than I do, big boy.”

  George took the last bite of his daily special, laid his fork down, and said, “Right now, there is virtually no heavy construction, road building, well drilling, and so on that can get approval without an archaeological survey.” Charlie confirmed that with a nod, and the professor went on. “Previous to current government and state mandates, reams of important scientific information were lost to damage caused by careless construction projects.” The professor frowned. “There are reports of start-up salvage companies now taking on this sort of work with little in the way of credentials… at least not with the sort of expertise and experience I feel we can bring to the business.” George Custer was not above a little personal horn blowing should the occasion call for it. He looked cautiously about the café. “There are even rumors that one of the new companies operating here on the reservation is rife with nepotism and maybe even a little corruption at the tribal council level.”

  Charlie laughed, “That wouldn’t surprise me George. That’s sort of the way things work here on the reservation. Our people try to take care of our people, if you know what I mean.”

  “Nepotism? What’s that?” Thomas liked the sound of it.

  Charlie grinned at him. “That’s sort of what we would be doing in this little group… favoring our own. But here on the reservation, jobs are jobs, and they need to be jobs for Navajos first.”

  Professor Custer hoped this meant Charlie was seriously considering the previous offer to join the group. George sometimes couldn’t get a read on his former student––never had in fact. He had long known there was a way Indians thought in certain situations that white people have a hard time tuning into, but then he knew the exact opposite was true as well.

  After the waitress cleared the dishes, everyone, including the professor, put a dollar on the table, and George picked up the check, smiled at Charlie’s protest, and said, “Gentlemen, it’s a tax write off now.”

  Harley beamed and declared, “I like the way this company does business.”

  On the way out of the restaurant they came in line behind Billy Red Clay and the new police recruit. Introductions were made, and after indulging in a vigorous round of handshaking, Billy drew Charlie Yazzie aside and mentioned he might have some information he’d be interested in. “Just give me a call when you get back to the office.”

  Charlie wondered at this show of secrecy, but could see the tribal policeman preferred to discuss the matter in private.

  10

  Magpie Woman

  One would have thought Edward Bitsinnii would be grateful for his deliverance from an almost certain fate, but Edward was of a mind that his rescuer had more sinister motives in mind. He had never fully trusted any woman since Anita deceived him those many years ago. There was certainly no reason to think any good might come from this particular woman… a mixed blood at that. That she was part white was clear even to his addled brain. Edward, like most Navajo, did not usually define a person by their degree of Indian blood. Someone born of a Navajo mother is Navajo, and that is that. There is no degree of being or not being Indian––either you are or you aren’t. In the case of this person, however, he was prone to be less generous.

  Edward had thought in the beginning to make a fight of it and try to overpower the woman somehow. While she seemed strong enough when pulling him out of the trailer, half carrying him to her car, it quickly became apparent the exertion had exacted a toll. She quickly became pale, perspired despite the cold air, and her hands shook. He thought for a moment he might muster the strength to deal with her. That was when she stepped out in front of his cousin’s truck and shot then both dead before his eyes; this caused him to rethink the idea. Her hands seemed steady enough when she fired the pistol.

  His own hands were now tied to a “birthing post” planted in the earthen floor of a long-abandoned hogan––the adobe chinking had nearly washed away, allowing little slivers of sunlight to play across the dusty interior. The belt she had used to tie him was his own, and a good stout one. He doubted he could work it loose. As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, he guessed some woman had given birth here, and one, or possibly both, had died in the process. The post wouldn’t have been left in place otherwise. That was what caused the dwelling to be abandoned. That part did not bother him. A witch did not have so much to fear from the dead as an ordinary person, and Edward had always felt himself to be far from ordinary. Many in Ganado had even thought him a Yeenaaldiooshii or skinwalker… sometimes referred to as a Navajo Wolf. He never discouraged such thinking, and now wished he really were a skinwalker, able to change forms and free himself from so dangerous a person as this woman, who herself might well be a witch. He couldn’t imagine how she had run across this hidd
en place except by some magic of her own. She had obviously given some thought and study to his abduction, and probably whatever was left in store for him as well.

  Edward never saw so hard a woman. His wife in Ganado had not been of a gentle nature by any means, but this ghaw-jih was hard as flint. When she had pulled him from his mother’s derelict trailer, she had hit him hard on the breastbone a few times, and he first thought she was trying to kill him. She later said she thought it might help get him going again and didn’t apologize. She figured he was most likely going to die anyway, and a few good whacks shouldn’t do him any further harm. Her actions had apparently worked; he seriously doubted there was any good reason for it… but here he was alive. Clearly the woman could be a witch.

  It took hours for the carbon monoxide fog to lift, and even then his strength did not return. Edward eventually cleared his thoughts enough to ponder how it had all come about. What are the odds this “shadow woman” should come only minutes before it was too late? Maybe that was where Magpie had been off to in such a hurry… to get help. Maybe I had Magpie all wrong. Maybe Magpie… maybe, this woman was Magpie! Yes, yes, that made perfect sense. This would, in fact, explain everything.

  In his befuddlement, he had not recognized Alice at first, and only came to that realization when she told him who she was. It was only then he understood she was in fact his relation. He had last seen her as a child and now had a hard time correlating that last vision of a little girl with this menacing person. He could now see the resemblance to her mother, Lucy Tallwoman, his brother’s daughter, but only when he looked beyond her white blood.

  The first thing he needed to know was if her Grandfather Paul had sent her. He had not seen his brother in nearly as long as he had this distant niece, and he couldn’t help but wonder at the reason for her unexpected visit. He didn’t know if he was up to the combined efforts of both a shaman and a witch.

  She was gone now, leaving him alone at this abandoned camp. Edward had grown up in this country and thought he knew it, but not this place. It must have been built and then abandoned during those years he was in Ganado. By his muddled reckoning, he surmised he might now be a good long distance from his mother’s trailer. He was in anguish over what he’d left buried in the corrals and it occurred to him those things might now be forever beyond his grasp. The only consoling factor being, no one else would have them either. What plans he’d had for that treasure. It would have meant a whole new life. He had often thought of moving off the reservation, going somewhere no one knew him or what manner of things he’d done. After all, he had no people left, none that cared for him, at least. Maybe he’d find a new woman, someone who understood him. He would choose more carefully next time, now that he knew more about it.

  He hoped Alice would hurry back––frightening as that thought might be––his wrists hurt and he was thirsty. She had thrown a blanket from her car’s trunk about his shoulders, but that was the extent of her kindness. Obviously she intended to keep him alive for the present. He was still too groggy to guess where he might be with any accuracy, but thought they might have gone down the long incline into Bloomfield, where they had, he felt, turned left toward Farmington. It had been a while before he recognized the rumble associated with crossing a bridge. After the bridge there had been a sharp left and then a considerable distance on rough dirt roads. No matter. Wherever he was, he knew it would take a while to walk out, and only then if his strength returned.

  There was a dim and painful sense that he should at least be trying to get away, if he didn’t want to wind up like his cousins. Those two cousins thought themselves pretty smart, setting him up like that. They weren’t so smart now though. From what he could recall of the thing, the two brothers had pulled up in their old truck just as Alice was loading him into her car. She apparently thought they intended to rescue him. She just stood there flatfooted in front of their truck, pulled a pistol from the folds of her dress, and shot them both dead.

  The woman was hard as flint.

  If nothing else, Anita had now been dealt with at last. He still cringed when he thought of the day Harley Ponyboy had innocently informed him he was married to the woman, one who had as good as promised him she would be his when he returned from that camp job in Ganado. He put his tongue in the place where the big bottom tooth had been before Harley had knocked it out with a shovel that long ago day. The anguish Harley must feel at the death of his wife was a good down payment on what Edward had planned for him. The thing would already be done if not been for his silly cousins, but thanks to the interference of this evil niece there might still be a chance.

  ~~~~~~

  Fortunately for Alice, Edward Bitsinnii had a surprising amount of money in his pockets. The ill-gotten gains of a witch, she thought, and chuckled at the prospect of spending her great uncle’s money. She was no great believer in witches herself, but she was a believer in the power witches held over others and she thought that a sort of magic in itself. She felt her time was now short, and getting shorter by the hour. The law would be looking for her now, because of what she’d done to Frank Harney, and if they didn’t get her, the other thing surely would. One way or the other, it was only a matter of time.

  There was only one thing Alice was sure of––she would cause this Witch of Ganado to release her family from whatever hold he had on them. Killing Edward wouldn’t fix things; her grandfather had made that very clear. No, this witch must, and of his own accord, take the evil away. Her grandfather must be present to see it if the family were to have any real assurance it was over. Paul would be the only one to know if it were properly done. Only then would there be freedom from this witch’s curse. There would be time enough to settle with the witch when this other was taken care of.

  What Alice really wanted, when this was all over, was a quart of whiskey and a nice quiet place to drink it. The rest would take care of itself.

  ~~~~~~

  Paul T’Sosi felt a strange stirring since coming awake from the same old dream that morning. Nothing he could put his finger on exactly, but the hooting of an owl deep in the night had told him all he needed to know. And then there was the flutter of wings on his way to the corrals––Magpie flitting along through the trees… just before dawn it was. Normally that tribe doesn’t care to fly so early as that, and certainly not on such a cold morning as this one. No, there was something afoot this day. It would come to him by and by, and he would meet it in the only way he could, face to face.

  Lucy Tallwoman watched her father from the window and thought, how frail he looks. All this trouble of late has taken its toll. Paul seemed to be sinking into ever darkening moods. His obsession with Edward Bitsinnii and those perceived evils seemed to weigh him down… as though he blamed himself for his half-brother’s wicked ways. Lucy sighed and turned to waken the children for school. Thomas had already left, well before daylight, to help Harley with the Yazzie’s shed, and it might be left up to her to go with the sheep.

  Lucy didn’t see the car when it drove up, but she heard a door slam and a motor rev as the automobile slewed nearly sideways as it roared back the way it had come. When she went to the window, only taillights and a smudge of dust were apparent in the murky dawn light. Her father was nowhere to be seen.

  Ida Marie, yawning and rubbing sleep from her eyes, came to stand beside her. “Who was here so early?” The girl, though young, was of a perceptive nature and seemed perturbed by her stepmother’s expression.

  Lucy smoothed the girl’s hair as she watched through the window. “No one that we know little one… no one we know, I’m afraid.”

  ~~~~~~

  When Thomas Begay showed up again at the family hogan it was late in the afternoon, and by then his wife had worked herself into a lather, and was in no mood to be mollified by talk of new jobs, free lunches, and what was to come “just down the road.”

  “My father’s gone!” she said gritting her teeth. “I’m pretty sure Alice took him away with her. My damned tr
uck wouldn’t start, of course… this is the second time this week.” She was seething now. “You said you were going to fix the bastard. You’re supposed to be the mechanic around here.” Lucy wasn’t given to rough talk––almost never cursed, and certainly not in so strong a fashion as this. “I couldn’t even go after them. You better go find those two right now, Thomas Begay, or I’ll take your truck and go myself.” Lucy Tallwoman was not one to make idle threats, and her husband knew it. He put one hand up between them just as he would with a horse trying to rear up. A horse might take this as a cautionary sign, a psychological barrier so to speak, but not Lucy Tallwoman. As she turned to put on her boots she shot a glance at Thomas. “Those sheep haven’t been out of the corral today. Maybe you could see they get at least a couple of hours of feed, and maybe run them by the pond for a drink. By the time the kids get home, there won’t be enough light left for them to do it.”

  Thomas could see his wife meant business and that he would have to be quick if he were get a handle on the situation. As much as he hated the thought of it, he knew he must be the one to go look for Paul T’Sosi, and probably confront his ex-wife in the process. The very last thing he wanted to do was see that woman again; it would take all his fortitude to stand up to her, should he find them. This could get ugly. He grabbed his jacket off the peg by the door and glanced at his Timex. “I will go find them myself,” he said, and almost asked “Any idea where I should look?” He instantly thought better of it, crammed his hat on his head, and turned to the door. “Woman, you stay here and take the sheep out––I’ll find your father.” There was no way this could end well.

  When he was in the truck and headed down the lane Thomas could see Lucy Tallwoman and Paul’s dog in the rearview mirror, hurrying off to the corrals. Women and dogs he thought, it’s hard to find a good one of either and, even if you should be so lucky, you might yet regret the choice from time to time. Then the old Navajo wedding chant came to him: Male and female belong together, only then are the two complete and able to form a whole person.