Gives Light(Gives Light Series) (33 page)

I was halfway across the field when his son--the boy who had accosted Rafael about a month ago--caught up with me.

"Hey," he said.  He brushed the hair out of his eyes.  "It's true?  He's dead?"

I nodded.

He let out a long, low breath.  "Well," he said.  "Good..."

I gestured to the two letters still left in my basket.

"Oh," said the boy.  "Yeah, okay, I'll let you go.  Hey, did you leave windchimes outside our window?"

I smiled lightly.

"That's nice of you.  Weird!  But nice.  I'm Zeke.  If you ever want to be friends with someone whose dad's not a murderer, just a drunk--"

I shook my head slightly, but I couldn't find it in me to feel indignant.  I smiled with finality, and he waved goodbye.

The next house was the Takes Flight house, on the farmland out west.

I approached the wrap-around gates and heard hens squawking in their coop and pigs squealing at the trough in the sty.  I think farmers were the only people who did any work on Sundays.  Livestock maintenance aside, keeping the land fresh and cultivated was a 24/7 job; even though none of the autumn crops were poking out of the soil yet, the rows of crops lined with scarecrows, I could see Aubrey's older brothers on the other side of the gate, hard at work hilling the brown earth with their spades.  The oldest brother looked up, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and gave me a polite nod.  At the same time, Aubrey came walking out of a shed with pails full of milk.

He set the pails down, beamed, and ran down the walkway to open the gate and let me on the property.

"Hi," he said, slightly out of breath.  "What's going on?"

Dad's letter was addressed to Celia and Martin Takes Flight, but I thought it might be for the best if Aubrey gave it to them himself.  I handed him the letter.  He read the names on the front of the envelope.

"Dad's not home," he said.  "Do you want to come in--?"

I shook my head. 
But thank you
, I signed.  He seemed to get a kick out of that.

"Aubrey!" shouted one of his older brothers--the younger of the two.  "Get the milk inside before it curdles!"

Aubrey winced.  "Sorry, sorry," he said.  "I'll see you later, Skylar!"

I waved goodbye and went back out through the gates.  I left a pair of hearts on the iron baluster on my way out.

I went home and washed at the water pump outside.  It was lunchtime already, and I was filthy.  I found Dad and Granny in the kitchen.  Granny gave me a bowl of chilled pinyon nut soup and a cup of iced rose tea.  The tea was way too sweet, but I was practically dying of thirst; I drank it all.

"How many more to go?" Dad asked me.

I held up one finger.

The final house I had to visit was a big log cabin across the road from the hospital. 

I stood outside the door with the letter in my hands.  Rosa Gray Rain lived here, my dad had said, along with a bunch of other women who worked at the hospital.

The one time that I'd met her, Rosa had struck me as a timid but sweet young woman.  Still, for whatever reason, I was especially skittish about meeting her again.  In hindsight, I think I felt a little more connected to her loss than to the others'.  We'd both lost our mothers to someone else's selfishness and depravity.  It could have been anyone else's mothers; but it had been our mothers.

I left the letter on the doorstep and the windchimes on the banister. 

I was almost at the end of the road when I heard shoes on the pavement behind me.  I turned around; and of course it was Rosa Gray Rain jogging after me, twin braids flying behind her back.

She caught up with me.  She had the letter in her hands, open.  Her round face was earnest and emotional.

She never said anything to me.  But she put her arms around me in a quick hug.

And really, what else could I have done but hug her back?

By the end of the day, I was drained again.  I had no trouble at all going to sleep that night; I think I was unconscious the second I turned my lamp off.

I was glad for the group dinner the following evening.  The double-skin drum sounded better than ever; the field cress and poke greens tasted like heaven.  Annie sat next to me by the bonfire, tugging on my arm, and tried to get me to try a cricket cookie. 
No way
, I signed.

The stars hadn't even come out yet.  The sky was a burnt and coppery red, the sun hanging low over the horizon.  I remember thinking how beautiful it looked; how fortunate I was that I got to see it for myself.

I remember when the drums stopped and the animated conversations hushed into whispers, then faded into nothing.  And when I turned in my seat and looked over my shoulder, I saw Ms. Hayes and her partner standing at the edge of the gathering.

The reservation was so silent, I could hear myself breathe.  I saw Ms. Hayes open her jacket and take out a folded piece of paper.  She nodded to the short man, who started in the direction of Granny's house.  I held my breath.  I guessed they'd finally gotten their warrant.

I scarcely knew what I was doing.  My whole body felt unreal, like it belonged to someone else, even while I was rising from my seat.  I felt, more than saw, the eyes that flickered uncertainly in my direction.

I made a dash for the doorway and stood in front of it.

"Hey," said the short guy.  "Sorry, kid.  Move."

Even if I'd wanted to--and I didn't--I couldn't.  My legs felt frozen.

"Come on.  I know you're not deaf."

No, I thought frantically.  You're not taking Dad.  No.

Ms. Hayes outstripped her partner in strong, purposeful strides.  I have to admit, the look on her face scared me.  Then again, I was already scared.

"Move," she said.

What would she do if I didn't?  Shoot me?

Don't be stupid, I told myself.

And then the most surprising thing of all:  Annie got up from her seat and stood next to me.

I just love obstructing justice
, she signed to me.  I would have smiled if I weren't so scared.

"This is real cute," Ms. Hayes began impatiently.  She threw her head over her shoulder to address the crowd behind her.  "Would one of you like to put a leash on your kids?"

I heard a sharp, unanimous intake of breath and realized she had said something the Shoshone
really
didn't approve of.

"Go stand with your sister, kids," Grandpa Little Hawk said.

Lila climbed up on the porch, tugging Joseph along by the hand.  Her friend Morgan Stout was quick to follow her; and equally quick to follow Morgan were his own brother and sister, both older, both auburn-haired.

It was a chain reaction if I'd ever seen one.  Children of all ages, many of whom I'd never met, came out of the woodwork to join their friends or their siblings in barricading Granny's door.  There were so many of them that the porch wouldn't hold them all; some stood on the staircase, some stood crowded around the banisters.  I was so touched, I momentarily forgot that I was afraid.  I saw Aubrey lead his niece to the bottom of the porch by her hand--an adorable little girl with pink ribbons in her hair--and I saw the At Dawn girls dragging a bewildered Immaculata Quick by her bony wrists.

I felt somebody pinch my arm reassuringly, and Rafael, dark and hulking, filled my peripheral vision.

Just when I thought I had predicted the last of this evening's crazy events, Mrs. Red Clay distanced herself from the bonfire and came walking toward Granny's house.

"I'm afraid you don't have any authority here," she told the FBI.

"I have a search warrant that says otherwise," Ms. Hayes said snippishly.

"Very good.  But you'll find that your warrant is unconstitutional," Mrs. Red Clay said calmly.

The short guy laughed.  "You're an attorney all of a sudden?"

"As a matter of fact, I am licensed to practice in the state of Arizona."

I definitely hadn't expected that--but the adults sitting by the bonfire didn't look remotely surprised.  A few had even gone back to eating their dinner.

The short guy's eyebrows raised so high, they met his forehead.  "Then you of all people should know that murder falls under the Major Crimes Act.  We're investigating a murder."

"I am well aware of what the Major Crimes comprise, Mr. Trimble.  I wonder whether you're so well acquainted with your own history."

" 'Scuse me?"

"Crow Dog killed Spotted Tail on the Rosebud Reservation.  The reservation did not belong to federal jurisdiction, and so the Supreme Court could not legally penalize him.  Congress responded with the Major Crimes Act.  By the convention of this law, a law, I might add, that breaks about a thousand different laws established before it, you now have the authority to take over when a murder occurs on an Indian reservation."

I saw it now.  My fingers bit into Rafael's wrist.  His hand wrapped around mine.

"Mr. Trimble, I believe you will find that Newcastle, Wyoming is not an Indian reservation."

There was a moment of cautious silence while Ms. Hayes and Mr. Trimble looked at one another, slowly.

"In fact, there has been no murder, attempted murder, manslaughter, rape, larceny, arson, or burglary on this reservation within the past eleven years.  Which means, I am afraid, that your search warrant is unconstitutional, and your very presence here violates the law you so painstakingly strive to uphold.  Unless you mean to tell me that you have at last gotten around to investigating the serial murders of 1989?  Mr. Trimble, Ms. Hayes, my hospitality has worn itself thin.  Either you will leave my reservation alone, or I will have your badges by tomorrow morning, I will have your unit chief deposed for gross negligence, and I will take the two of you for everything you're worth.  Happily, you will find that I am not unfamiliar with your deputy director, which should save us months of courtroom formalities."

I think that was the moment I decided I wanted to be a lawyer.

The second wave of silence, uniform, uninterrupted, was about as deafening as an earthquake.  For a brief instance, I thought Ms. Hayes and Mr. Trimble would put their heads together, like football players, and come up with a brand new strategy on the spot.

I was shocked when they turned around and hurried off of the reservation.

Mrs. Red Clay looked impassively at the throng of children gathered in front of Granny's doorway.  I didn't imagine it; her eyes lingered on mine.

"Children," she said.  "You'll want to eat your dinner before it gets cold."

The kids around me were sluggish to return to their parents.  I hid a smile, suspecting that they had secretly enjoyed the excitement of the evening.  As for me--I was shaking, my hands worst of all.  I couldn't believe it.  A loophole in the law meant that Dad was safe.  Dad was free.

Rafael's hand tightened on mine.  Like a tonic, slowly, wholly, I calmed down.  There was a tense and arbitrary smile frozen on my face.  I think he was right, when he said that I smiled too much, but for the life in me, I couldn't get it to go away.

Rafael wasn't smiling.  He wasn't frowning, either.  There was nothing in his eyes but blue concern, blue compassion.  He wasn't a boy sick with resentment that my father had killed his.  Somehow--amazingly--he was a boy worried about his friend.

You okay?
his eyes said.  And,
Yeah, but this is crazy
, my smile replied.  And the corner of his mouth quirked into a dry smile of his own that said,
Don't I know it.

Granny's door opened behind us. 

"Is it over?" Dad asked, looking slightly uncomfortable.  I guessed he had heard at least part of the conversation.  I saw Granny and Ms. Siomme behind him in the front room; Granny sitting, Ms. Siomme standing, Ms. Siomme concerned but calm.

I let my bright smile serve as my response.

"Good," Dad breathed with relief.

I saw his eyes, winter water gray, flick down.  I realized I was still holding Rafael's hand.

I didn't see any reason to let go.

"Good," Dad said again.

My smile softened into something a little more genuine.

Dad inched his way out through the door.  He brushed past the two of us.  "Nothing doing, Cubby," he said.  "But I'm starving."

31

Ruse

The lake looked alluring under a strong noon sun.  It glistened a glittering gray except for where the fishing boats sat bobbing on its calm ebb.

"Well," Annie said wisely, "I don't much like the idea of getting tangled up in those fishing lines.  We can go swimming some other time."

She crouched by the edge of the lake, her fingers skimming the surface of the water.  She looked really good with short hair.  I wondered whether she was going to let it grow out.

"I could hose us off at the farm," Aubrey suggested eagerly.  He deflated.  "Or, no, Isaac will yell at me if he catches us..."

"What're you gonna waste the water for?" Rafael cut in.  "Arizona's in the middle of its yearly drought anyway."

I sat on the rich, damp soil, legs folded.  I gazed out at the skyline, the sky dipping down to touch the water, the lake rising to meet it, and covered the optical illusion with my thumb.