The Collector

by R. Allen Chappell

  The Doctor, unconvinced though he might be, finally relented, and in view of their long trip down to see him, he said he would “see what he could do.”

  Lucy honestly did not expect to hear back from the man, but in only a week’s time the specialist called to say her father had been accepted into the program and a packet would be sent to his doctor in Farmington for administration and oversight. Apparently, fewer people than they thought had applied and they had been able to squeeze him in. Paul’s local physician readily agreed to participate. He was a young doctor just starting out and thought working under the auspices of such a trial might promote his visibility. Paul was to start his treatment regimen the following week and the entire family looked forward to whatever improvement that might bring.

  ~~~~~~

  Several weeks passed and shortly after a visit to Agent Smith’s home, Charlie called the Begays to say he and Sue were coming to see them.

  After the usual greetings Lucy couldn’t wait to tell them about her father. They’d been happy to hear Paul now had a treatment option for his condition. They would have told the old man that in person…if he hadn’t been napping.

  “How is Fred Smith doing?” Thomas was first to ask the question on everyone’s mind.

  “It’s been slow going…” Charlie, not wanting to appear overly optimistic, offered a cautious but honest assessment. “He’s home now but not really up and around that much yet. That belly wound has been a little stubborn. The doctor says they may have to go back in if things don’t improve soon. Still, they think he’s going to come through this.”

  “He’s going to be all right?” Lucy was obviously pleased to hear it, but didn’t want to say so for fear it might jinx his progress.

  “We hope so. They’ll know more in a week or so…when they get that intestinal thing under control.” Charlie shook his head and decided to tell them exactly how it was. “He’ll probably never be the same in some respects and may not return to work—certainly not in the foreseeable future. The Bureau wasn’t too happy he’d taken it upon himself to instigate our little raid. That might weigh into it as well.” Charlie pursed his lips and exclaimed, “Fred tried to explain to them he didn’t have time to go through channels, saying he might have lost the opportunity altogether.”

  Thomas drew back and folded his arms across his chest. Glaring out the window he muttered, “That might have been for the best.”

  Charlie frowned and shook his head. The Investigator had made the trip to Farmington every few days these last few weeks, often accompanied by Billy Red Clay, now on the mend and nearly his old self. Charlie, too, was coming along nicely. His physical therapist was convinced he might regain partial use of his injured fingers.

  The women left to make coffee. Charlie and Thomas after glancing at Paul T’Sosi asleep in his chair, made their way out to the front porch where they sat in the sun. Warm weather had returned for the present and no one could get enough of it. After the unseasonal storms earlier that month, people had soured on thoughts of the approaching winter.

  “Billy Red Clay came by this morning. He said he might be out to see you this afternoon.” Charlie eased into it now, recalling the pair’s last contentious meeting.

  Thomas hadn’t seen or heard from his nephew since their harsh words at the hospital. “That would be good. I didn’t mean to throw down on him like that. I guess I owe him an apology…and maybe you, too.”

  Thomas almost never apologized for anything, and Charlie considered this offer a remarkable concession for him. He waited to hear what he would say.

  Thomas however said nothing more, as though the admission itself should be sufficient apology and didn’t mention anymore about it.

  Charlie actually felt relieved—he’d grown used to his friend the way he was and couldn’t picture him apologizing…that wouldn’t be Thomas. He doubted he would be able to keep a straight face if he did. “In case you didn’t know, they still haven’t found any trace of Carla Meyor.

  Thomas wanted to say I don’t know how in the hell I would know. No one ever tells me anything—but he didn’t say this as he was in no mood for more apologizing. He glanced toward the house. “That will make Lucy sad, she was connected to that woman, you know. She’s upset enough over all this other stuff.”

  Charlie hesitated before saying; “I know how close she was to Carla, even before she knew the woman had the same father as Alice.”

  Thomas studied on this for a minute. “So… you already knew Carla’s father was Alice’s father too?” He nodded down the road toward town. “The man was teaching at the boarding school Lucy went to. I knew from Alice a long time ago about her mother getting mixed up with a teacher at boarding school. Alice knew her father was white. But before Carla came into the picture no one really knew who he was, other than Lucy, of course.” Thomas looked at the door. “The old man knew…said it came to him in a dream…but the next day, didn’t seem to remember it. More likely he just didn’t want to talk about it, I guess. I remember him saying once that if he’d caught up with that teacher, he’d have killed him. I never heard him say anything like that before. He never spoke of the man again until yesterday.”

  It was obvious to Charlie that Thomas, like the old man, didn’t like thinking about it. He murmured, “That’s a hell of a thing for a person to carry around all these years,” He nodded. “Carla came to my office not long ago and in passing mentioned something about her father—I guess she knew all along Alice was her half-sister. That might be why she volunteered to assist out here in the first place. She was curious about Lucy.” He looked down at the porch. “Sue told me more about it when she heard what happened in Mexico. Lucy had told her a long time ago what happened at boarding school. I didn’t know until recently that Carla was Alice’s half-sister.”

  Later that evening when they were alone in the kitchen, Lucy Tallwoman looked at Sue with tears in her eyes. “Do you really think Fred is going to be all right?” She couldn’t help some lingering feeling of responsibility—believing her growing notoriety as a weaver might have caused some jealous person to lay a curse on everyone she knew.

  Sue Yazzie put her arm around her friend, all the while thinking to herself, why do the Diné seem always to credit some spell or curse for whatever bad thing might happen to them?

  ~~~~~~

  It was nearly six months later that Agent Fred Smith now back at work, was notified by the head office in Albuquerque that the fugitive, Archibald Blumker, had been killed—in a small town in the state of Guanajuato, Mexico.

  Only the next morning, however, another American was found dead in nearby San Miguel Allende. This time the dead man was thought to be a former FBI candidate named Craig Benson found shot down in his hotel room while awaiting transportation to the airport.

  No one had been apprehended at the time of Blumker’s death but in his nearby home a short note was discovered, from his former companion, rogue FBI agent Carla Meyor. It was addressed to Agent in Charge Fred Smith, at the Farmington N.M. Bureau office. The message read as follows:

  First let me say that Archie Blumker, despite what some think, was not all bad. When up against bad people, he could be capable of terrible things, but at other times he was much like anyone else.

  I’m sure you realize by now that you and your friends would be dead if not for him. The shooter wouldn’t have left witnesses—nor would Archie ordinarily. I can only think some innate personal code may have saved you.

  I’m guessing Craig Benson’s fantasy of being a Bureau agent may have spurred him to find us…or perhaps it was the local television notoriety fleeting though that was. It was a pretty piece of work—finding us the way he did. I suspect he didn’t reveal all he learned through his surveillance.

  You’ll not hear from me again, and knowing what I do of the inner workings of the Bureau I may be hard to locate.

  Fred laid the message aside and picking up the phone dialed the Crestview motel. As he waited for someone to answer he
thought of the last time he’d seen his friend. Craig had come to visit him at the hospital, ranting about the incompetence of the local authorities—obsessing on how they’d let Blumker escape. He would have done things differently, he said, had it been up to him.

  When the desk clerk answered, it was to say Craig Benson had quit his job nearly a week before—to travel…and pursue greater opportunities.

  Addendum

  These stories hearken back to a slightly more traditional time on the reservation, and while the places and culture are real, the characters and their names are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  ~~~~~~

  Though this book is a work of fiction, a concerted effort was made to maintain the accuracy of the culture and characters. There are many scholarly tomes written by anthropologists, ethnologists, and learned laymen regarding the Navajo culture. On the subject of language and spelling, they often do not agree. When no consensus was apparent we have relied upon “local knowledge.”

  Many changes have come to the Dinè—some of them good—some, not so much. These are the Navajo I remember. I think you may like them.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  R. Allen Chappell is the author of nine novels and a collection of short stories. Growing up in New Mexico he spent a good portion of his life at the edge of the Diné Bikeyah, went to school with the Navajo, and later worked alongside them. He lives in Western Colorado where he continues to pursue a lifelong interest in the prehistory of the Four Corners region and its people, and still spends a good bit of his time there.

  For the curious, the author’s random thoughts on each book of the series are listed below in the order of their release.

  Navajo Autumn

  It was not my original intent to write a series, but this first book was so well received, and with many readers asking for another, I felt compelled to write a sequel—after that there was no turning back. And while I have to admit this first one was fun to write, I’m sure I made every mistake a writer can possibly make in a first novel. I did, however, have the advantage of a dedicated little group of detractors quick to point out its deficiencies… and I thank them. Without their help, this first book would doubtless have languished, and eventually fallen into the morass. Without those detractors there would be no series.

  I did do one thing right apparently—Navajo Autumn was the first in its genre to include a glossary of Navajo words and terms. Readers liked this feature so well I’ve made certain each subsequent book had one. This book has, over the years, been through many editions and updates. No book is perfect, and this one keeps me grounded.

  Boy Made of Dawn

  A sequel I very much enjoyed writing and one that drew many new fans to the series. So many, in fact, I quit my day job to pursue writing these stories full-time—not a course I would ordinarily recommend to an author new to the process. In this instance, however, it proved to be the right move. As I learn, I endeavor to make each new book a little better…and to keep their prices low enough that people like me can afford to read them. That’s important.

  Ancient Blood

  The third book in the series and the initial flight into the realm of the Southwestern archaeology I grew up with. This book introduces Harley Ponyboy: a character that quickly carved out a major niche for himself in the stories that followed. Harley remains the favorite of reservation readers to this day. Also debuting in this novel was Professor George Armstrong Custer, noted archaeologist and Charlie Yazzie’s professor at UNM. George, too, has a pivotal role in some of the later books.

  Mojado

  This book was a departure in subject matter; cover art, and the move to thriller status. A fictional story built around a local tale heard in Mexico years ago. In the first three months following its release, this book sold more copies, and faster, than any of my previous books. It’s story heard long ago down in Sonora state.

  Magpie Speaks

  A mystery/thriller that goes back to the beginning of the series and exposes the past of several major characters—some of whom play pivotal roles in later books and are favorites of Navajo friends who follow these stories.

  Wolves of Winter

  As our readership attained a solid position in the genre, I determined to tell the story I had, for many years, envisioned. I am pleased with this book’s success on several levels, and in very different genres. I hope one day to revisit this story in one form or another.

  The Bible Seller

  Yet another cultural departure for the series; Harley Ponyboy again wrests away the starring role. A story of attraction and deceit against a backdrop of wanton murder and reservation intrigue—it has fulfilled its promise to become a Canyon Land’s favorite.

  Day of the Dead

  Book eight in the series, and promised follow-up to #1 bestseller, Mojado. Luca Tarango’s wife returns to take Luca’s remains back to Mexico, and inveigles Legal Services Investigator Charlie Yazzie to see that she and Luca’s ashes get there for the Mexican holy day.

  The Collector

  Book number Nine in the series brings most of the original characters into play, but centers around Lucy Tallwoman—the murder of her agent causes her life to take a new and hazardous direction as unseen forces seek to take over the lucrative native arts trade.

  From the Author

  Readers may be pleased to know they can preview selected audio book selections for the Navajo Nation Series on our book pages. Our Audio books can be found featured in public libraries, on Audible, and Tantor Audio Books and, of course, in many retail outlets. There are more to come. Kaipo Schwab, an accomplished actor and storyteller, narrates the first five audio books. I am pleased Kaipo felt these books worthy of his considerable talent. I hope you enjoy these reservation adventures as much as we enjoy bringing them to you.

  The author calls Western Colorado home where he continues to pursue a lifelong interest in the prehistory of the Four Corners region and its people. We remain available to answer questions, and welcome your comments at: rachappell@yahoo.com

  Or our Amazon page for a bio and full listing of all our books.

  https://www.amazon.com/R-Allen-Chappell/e/B00AVYI0RA/

  If you’ve enjoyed this latest story, please consider going to its Amazon book page to leave a short review. It takes only a moment and would be most appreciated.

  Glossary

  1. Adááníí — undesirable, alcoholic etc.

  2. Acheii — Grandfather *

  3. Ashki Ana’dlohi — Laughing boy

  4. A-hah-la’nih — affectionate greeting*

  5. Billigaana — white people

  6. Ch’ihónit’t — a spirit path flaw in art.

  7. Chindi — (or chinde) Spirit of the dead *

  8. Diné — Navajo people

  9. Diné Bikeyah — Navajo country

  10. Diyin dine’é —Holy people

  11. Hataalii — Shaman (Singer)*

  12. Hastiin — (Hosteen) Man or Mr. *

  13. Hogan — (Hoogahn) dwelling or house

  14. Hozo — To walk in beauty *

  15. Ma’ii — Coyote

  16. Shimásáni — Grandmother

  17. Shizhé’é — Father *

  18. Tsé Bii’ Ndzisgaii — Monument Valley

  19. Yaa’ eh t’eeh — Common greeting-Hello

  20. Yeenaaldiooshii — Skinwalker, witch*

  21. Yóó’a’hááskahh —One who is lost

  *See Notes on following page

  Notes

  1. Acheii — Grandfather. There are several words for Grandfather depending on how formal the intent and the gender of the speaker.

  2. Aa’a’ii — Long known as a trickster or “thief of little things.” It is thought Magpie can speak and sometimes brings messages from the beyond.

  4. A-hah-la’nih — A greeting: affectionate version of Yaa’ eh t’eeh, generally only used among family and close friends.

  7. Chindi — When a person dies
inside a hogan, it is said that his chindi or spirit could remain there forever, causing the hogan to be abandoned. Chindi are not considered benevolent entities. For the traditional Navajo, just speaking a dead person’s name may call up his chindi and cause harm to the speaker or others.

  11. Hataalii — Generally known as a “Singer” among the Diné, they are considered “Holy Men” and have apprenticed to older practitioners sometimes for many years—to learn the ceremonies. They make the sand paintings that are an integral part of the healing and know the many songs that must be sung in the correct order.

  12. Hastiin — The literal translation is “man” but is often considered the word for “Mr.” as well. “Hosteen” is the usual version Anglos use.