Plant Them Deep (24 page)

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Authors: Aimee & David Thurlo

BOOK: Plant Them Deep
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As they reached the main highway, Ella glanced toward Pastora Peak, way over in Arizona. “Mom, do you remember the old grocery
store and gas station that used to be just this side of the Arizona state line when I was a kid? Off the highway near Beclabito?”
Rose nodded. “It was a trading post before that. Everyone used to stop there to talk and catch up on the news while they
bought sodas, snacks, or gasoline. But it closed down after they built the new place on the highway … at least I think it did.” She paused, then
added, “I haven’t been there in years—since your father stopped having those church revivals all over the reservation.”
“Let’s go check it out. If anyone is still around there, they might be able to give you a clue that will help you figure out who your Plant Watcher friend really was. He lived in that area all his life.”
It took them a while to find the turnoff because of highway construction.
“I don’t think anyone’s come up this way in ages,” Rose said.
As they drove up the winding road, which led through red sandstone canyons dotted with piñons and junipers, Rose searched her memory. “I remember that Jerry and Cammy Hatcher ran the place. Jerry was an Anglo, and Cammy a Navajo from Many Farms. I think they both passed away several years back, but I remember that they had a daughter
a few years older than I was. They named her Merline.”
As they pulled up to the crumbling adobe building, it appeared to be completely deserted. Windows were broken and the door swung back and forth on one hinge in the breeze.
“Well, that’s that. No one’s here,” Ella said. “Sorry, Mom. My idea was a bust.”
“Not so,” Rose said. Just over the next rise, she could see a curl of smoke. Rose opened
the car door, and as a breeze rose, the scent of burning leaves became pronounced. “Someone’s working in their yard. Can you smell it?”
“Yes, I can.”
“The road up ahead doesn’t look good enough to risk driving across in my old truck. Why don’t we walk from here?”
“I’m up to it if you are, Mom.”
The old wood-frame house was less than a half mile away.
Rose kept her eyes on the ground, always
searching for “white at night” and the other plants on her list.
They’d traveled halfway when Rose felt Ella’s mood change. They hadn’t spoken and she hadn’t looked at her daughter, but she
knew
. There had always been a special connection between them that couldn’t be easily explained.
“What’s wrong, daughter?” she asked softly.
“I’m not sure, but there might be someone up on the hill just
west of us. Don’t look and keep walking at the same pace. If I’m right and someone’s there, I don’t want to tip him off.”
Rose resisted the impulse to sneak a quick glance. “It could be someone tending their animals, looking for firewood, or just walking around.”
“True.” Ella reached up and felt the badger fetish hanging from her neck. “I just don’t think we’re in any immediate danger, but I
don’t like the idea of someone up there watching us.”
“We’ve always suspected that the reason the plant thief knows the best sites is because he’s been following some of us. Maybe he decided to follow me this time.”
“Just stay close to cover, Mom, beside the rocks if possible, and go through that stand of pines ahead.”
“Do you still see him?”
“I never saw anyone—just a flash that could have
come from anything that has glass or metal.”
When they reached the pines, they stopped and looked around, listening. “Well, daughter?” Rose shrugged after a few minutes.
“Okay, let’s move on.” Moments after they reached the next clearing, they both saw a woman coming down the hill.
“It’s a traditionalist,” Rose said, noting her long skirt and velvet blouse.
“But not the person who’s been watching
us,” Ella pointed out. “She’s coming from a different direction.”
The Navajo woman, who was around Rose’s age, came up to join them. “I didn’t want to be nosy, but we don’t see a lot of strangers around here. Are you lost?” she asked.
“No, we’re looking for information about the people who used to run the old store and gas station back there. It was a trading post before that,” Ella said.
The woman looked at Rose and suddenly smiled. “You’re the last person I expected to run into out here.”
Rose, recognizing her, greeted her warmly. Mae Brownhat had been a classmate of hers in high school. Over the years, they’d continued to meet sporadically in class reunions, but it had been a good fifteen years since they’d both attended one. In that time, Mae had put on some weight and there
were a few more lines around her face, but otherwise she’d changed very little. Rose wondered if she looked as good to Mae. She would have liked to think that she’d aged as gracefully as her friend.
“You used to live in Teec Nos Pos. You’ve moved?” Rose asked.
She nodded. “When my family moved away to Kayenta, I chose to remain in the Four Corners, but I needed something to do. Then I heard
that Merline Hatcher needed live-in help, so I came here.”
“What happened to her?” Rose asked.
“She has rheumatoid arthritis and has a very difficult time getting around these days. She should move to the city, but this was the home she shared with her parents and the place where she was happiest. She doesn’t want to leave.”
“We have to go now,” Ella said, taking her mother’s arm and urging
her along.
“Daughter, what on earth—”
“Someone’s up there watching us, and I don’t want to stand out in the open until I know who it is. Let’s get moving.”
“Who is it?” Mae asked.
“I don’t know,” Ella said, hurrying them.
“We’ll be safe up at the house and it’s not far,” Mae said quickly.
“Take my mother with you. I’m going to find out what’s going on,” Ella said.
“No, daughter, don’t—”
Before she could even finish the sentence, Ella was already moving into the trees. “Forgive her,” Rose told Mae. “She’s a police officer, and it’s hard for her to stop being one even when she’s not on duty.”
Mae hurried toward the house, with Rose beside her. “I can’t imagine any danger out here except during the winter, when you might freeze to death.”
They walked a little farther, and Rose,
not one to miss an opportunity, asked, “I’ve been looking for ‘white at night.’ Have you see any around here?”
“No, I haven’t. We keep a small garden with medicinal plants, but the things we grow are common all across the reservation.”
“Have you had any of your plants dug up and stolen recently?”
Mae stopped in midstride and stared at her. “How on earth did you know that?”
“It’s a long story,”
Rose said, following her toward the house just ahead.
A full twenty minutes had passed, but Ella still hadn’t returned. Rose tried to push back the faint stirrings of fear that crept through her. Her daughter was all right. She would have sensed it if Ella had been in trouble.
Merline positioned her wheelchair across from where Rose sat on the old sofa. “My mother loved this land. Everything
here reminds me of her, and I’ve kept the house the same as it was then. She always told me that as long as I lived within the
Sacred Mountains, I’d be protected. That’s why I’ve stayed.”
Aware of the way Merline held her misshapen hands protectively against her, Rose gave her a sympathetic smile. “Are you all right? Your hands must give you a lot of pain.”
“They do. But there’s a special tea
Mae makes for me that helps.”
Mae smiled. “It’s a mixture of ‘falling on rock’ and ‘big yellow on top.’ That’s why I started the garden—to make sure we always had our own supply handy.”
“Earlier you mentioned that someone dug up some of your plants. I’m very interested in learning more about that. We’ve been having some trouble with a plant thief lately,” Rose said, and explained briefly about
her survey for the tribe, and the instances of theft she’d discovered. “What did he take?”
“‘Wondering about medicine.’ I only had one of those plants here too. They’re very hard to grow.”
“Did he take it roots and all?”
“Yes,” Mae answered. “But I’ll keep an eye out for this thief from now on. If we see anyone digging up plants, I’ll get word to you immediately.”
“Don’t confront him, he could
be dangerous. Just try to get a good look at his face or his vehicle so you can describe or identify him,” Rose said, going to the window and looking outside. “My daughter will be back soon,” she said, unable to explain, even to herself, how she knew.
A minute later, Ella came out from behind a cluster of junipers and walked to the house.
Rose opened the front door and greeted her. “Did you
find who you were looking for?”
“There was no one up there by the time I got up the hill,” Ella said, frustration coloring her tone. “You came from the other direction,” she said, looking at Mae. “Did you see anyone up on the ridge?”
“No, I sure didn’t.”
“I’d like to see the hole the thief left behind when he dug up your ‘wondering about medicine’ plant,” Rose said.
Mae took Rose and Ella
outside, along with Merline in her wheelchair, and pointed to the ground at a spot near a pile of ashes where some leaves had been burned only recently. Rose wasn’t surprised to see the arrowhead type of shovel point that was distinctive of the GI shovel.
“Who knows that you have a garden with medicinal plants?” Rose said.
“Almost everyone,” Mae said, “and not just around here. We went to lunch
at the Totah Café yesterday and ran into
Gishii
. We spoke about plants, and especially our gardens.”
“And she loves to gossip,” Rose finished with a tiny smile. “Did you notice anyone else interested in what you were all talking about?”
Mae considered it and shook her head. “There were plenty of other people around, but I never really looked. We were having too much fun to worry about anything
else.”
Rose glanced at Merline, who shook her head. “If you happen to see any ‘white-at-night’ growing around here, will you send word to me immediately?” she asked, telling them about Lena.
“You can count on it. Is that why you came, to find the plant?” Merline asked as they all returned to the living room.
“Partly, but I had another purpose as well,” Rose said. “I know your father ran the
trading post from the thirties to the fifties, and I wondered if you remember him ever talking about the Plant Watcher from Arizona who died recently. Do you know who I mean?” Seeing Merline nod, Rose continued. “Or maybe you know someone else who might be able to give me some information about him.”
“I don’t remember my dad ever talking about him. I wish I
could help you, but—” She stopped speaking
and suddenly smiled. “Wait a minute. My Dad kept scrapbooks with photos all the years he ran the trading post. He had wanted to write his memoirs someday. There are lots of pictures and newspaper clippings in those books. Do you think they might help you?”
“They might. May I see them?”
“Give me a hand, Mae?” she asked, as she turned the wheelchair around and went down the hall. Moments later,
both women returned holding several thick scrapbooks.
“The pages are very old and will tear easily, so please be very careful when you handle these,” Merline said.
“I will.” Rose took them and went back to sit on the couch. The scrapbooks contained everything from newspaper headlines pertinent to the times, to photos and mementos. Rose concentrated on the photos, most of which were black-and-white
snapshots held in place by those old glued-on corners. She didn’t recognize most of the faces, but some, like her husband’s, were forever etched in her mind.
“I never knew my husband and your father were friends,” Rose said.
“They may not have been. Dad loved to take photos of people he thought were interesting for one reason or another, and those prayer meetings and revivals of your husband’s
always attracted a lot of attention.”
Rose could certainly understand why he’d thought her husband Raymond was interesting. Although Raymond had been a walking mass of contradictions, he’d possessed an undeniable charisma that had drawn people to him wherever he went. The large servings of food he always provided at his church crusades didn’t hurt either.
Near the middle of the fourth scrapbook,
filled during the war years, Rose spotted what she’d been looking for among
several pages showing soldiers in uniform. She found one labeled
Charlie and Gilbert Dodge and Bruce Gunn
. A young Charlie Dodge in uniform stood beside a younger Navajo man she assumed was Gilbert, his brother. The resemblance between the two was striking. Behind both stood a tall, muscular Anglo young man she took to
be Bruce Gunn.
Ella looked over Rose’s shoulder. “Who’s the Anglo man?”
“It says here that his name is Bruce Gunn, but I don’t remember any family around here by that name. Do you?” Seeing Ella shake her head, she glanced at the other two women. Merline shrugged, but Mae remained thoughtful.

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