The Bone Man (28 page)

I skimmed through the Cushing book, the original of which was written in the late 1800s. He’d spent years in Zuni and was the first Anglo to document their fetishes, many examples of which were in the Smithsonian. I’d read the Cushing book several times, so I did a quick look-through for a blood fetish, or anything resembling that. No mention, which was what I’d expected.

I slipped the book back on its shelf. The other books on Zuni fetishes were modern, and I knew them well enough that I didn’t need to review them.

The books that mattered, according to Kai, were on the bottom shelf, and so I sat on the floor. I pulled the first book from the shelf. It was old, published in 1896, and it talked about American Indian rites and magic. I looked through it, checked my watch, replaced it and pulled out book two.

I went down the stack that way, and so I made it to the middle of the shelf when my twenty minutes was up. I’d thought I’d find something. I really had.

I scrambled through the final three books, handling them with as much care as possible. Nothing.
Nothing
about a blood fetish.

Think, think, think
. I replayed Kai’s words.

I was getting nowhere, and my watch said it was time to go.

Kai hadn’t misled me, so what wasn’t I seeing?

A mumble of angry voices distracted me. Navajo, yes, but voices I recognized. At least one of them. Who, though?

Breathe, look, breathe, look
.

I ran my finger down the row of books and found
Respect and Indian Magik
. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Kai had told me to be respectful.

I eased the book out of its slot in the row. It didn’t resemble any book I’d ever opened. It was maybe ten by twelve, larger than most. The cover was soft and pliable, with pen-and-ink letters across the front. The cover and binding were some kind of unusual skin. Maybe buffalo. The book was about half an inch thick and sewn together with sinew. I opened to the cover, and the smell of “old” reached my nose. I ran my fingers down the page, feeling the wonderful texture of the ink and handmade paper. I closed the cover to look for the author’s name.

I almost laughed out loud—The Bone Man. He’d written the book. Oh, boy.

I couldn’t read the right-hand pages. The language was alien to me. But on the left-hand pages, someone had attached on English translation, slipping the paper into black photo corners.
This
was the book. The Bone Man’s book.

I scanned the first page. It talked of secret Zuni ceremonies and a land far away where water was plentiful and the people had originated. But the writing described the mountain, too, Corn Mountain, sacred to the Zuni, and its Zuni name Dowa Yalanne.

I felt hope, as if the book could give me some answers. I turned a page, skimmed, then another. Then . . .

The voices again. Arguing. A woman’s—gruff and angry, then another woman . . . It sounded like Kai’s sister.

I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but I sure didn’t like the tone. I pressed the book to me and walked around a stack. The last thing I wanted was to be in the midst of some confrontation.

I kept reading. Page after page.

And then . . .

The blood fetish, now lost, was once our most sacred and powerful. The fetish is the red of our enemies’ blood, and it glitters in the morning sun. Maybe Old Man Natewa carved it. Or The Bone Man. Or maybe the gods who bring the red rain. It comes from far away, from the sacred place of our ancestors. Hold it, and it makes you young. Wield it, and you will flatten your enemies as if with a scythe. Covet it, and . . .

“So, hi there, ma’am.”

I jumped. Down the stack stood an elderly woman. My heart’s thumping gradually slowed. “Hello. You were at the lodge, yes?”

“We sure were.” She was waving, and her smile was welcoming.

I waved back. “What a coincidence!” I never much liked coincidences.

She kept smiling as she walked toward me. “Coincidence? Not really. We Elderhostelers love libraries, and the one here at the high school . . . well, it’s pretty good. It really is. The whole crew’s here, except . . .” She frowned. “Sorry.”

She’d been referring to the man who’d tried to kill me. The killer had disguised himself as elderly. For all I knew, this woman was his partner, out to finish the job. No, I didn’t like coincidences much. Nor did I enjoy the sense of enveloping paranoia. “Not a problem, ma’am. They’ve
got some wonderful books here. So where’d you go this morning? I didn’t see any of your group.”

“We checked out real early,” she said. “We all thought you left last night.”

“No, I didn’t. Good seeing you.” I backed away and turned.

“Hey now, what’s that you’re reading?” Over my shoulder she reached for the manuscript.

“Um, just an old book that—” She tugged it from my hands.

“Well, look at this.” She began paging through the manuscript.

“I haven’t finished reading it yet,” I said.

“No, well, that’s too darn bad.” She turned and began to walk away.

I reached for her arm. “Hold it! I was reading that.”

“Were you, now?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, I want to read it myself. You’ll excuse me.”

I grabbed for her, and she shoved me away, into the stacks. I stumbled, but didn’t fall. I couldn’t let her take that book.

I ran after her. She began to run, too. She was headed for the exit by the special books. Just as she reached the door, Joe appeared, blocking her path.

“Where you going, lady?”

“Get out of my way, kid,” the woman said.

“White women don’t get to read that book.”

“Yeah, they do.” She punched the boy in the face.

Joe fell backward and hit his head on a table. He went down and stayed there.

“You monster!” I screamed.

She slammed open the door. “I am, aren’t I? You’d better hurry, or those folks are gonna be dead.”

I raised the Taser and pressed the button.

Nothing happened! I pressed again. Same thing.

And then I was looking at empty space where the woman had once been.

I ran to Joe, who was shaking his head. “Joe, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“Fuck off,” he said.

“Joe—”

“Just leave me alone.”

I ran and got Kai and told her what had happened.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and returned in a few minutes with bandages and antiseptic.

She worked on Joe’s head until he slapped her hand away and walked off in a huff.

“It looks like he’ll be okay,” I said.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “That Joe’s a tough one. His pride’s bruised, that’s all. A woman getting the better of him. Ieeee.”

“I’m sorry, Kai. I’m so sorry about the manuscript.”

Her beautiful eyes didn’t hold a speck of anger or recrimination, but rather, empathy. “You know,” she said, “it is just a book.”

“But an important one.”

She rested her hand on mine. “Yes. But people are more important. Those people who took the book, they’re not meant to have it. It won’t help them. Not at all. They won’t understand the blood fetish, even if they find it.”

I searched her face. She believed what she was saying. I wished I could do the same.

She led me to a different exit.

“Here,” she said. “You can leave this way. No one will see. The alarm doesn’t work. Let me come with you.”

“Not a chance,” I said. “You’ve got to be really careful. These people are killers. I don’t want them to know that you even exist.”

Her eyes clouded. “I guess so.”

I gripped her arms. “Promise me you’ll leave this alone. I’ll get the book back.”

“Yes. Okay.”

“Say it!”

“I promise.”

I released her. Exhaustion crept through my body. “Good.”

With a pink-polished finger, she traced my pink scar. “I wish I could fix you all up.”

“That’s the last thing I’m worried about right now.” I pressed my hand to her cheek. “Thank you for all your help. Be safe.”

“Not only will we be safe,” she said, “I will make sure little brother is on watch duty. We’ll be fine. He will let no one hurt me.”

I clutched the pad and map tightly in my hand. “I’ll find a car or truck. Four-wheel drive, I guess. I’ll make it to the park, then I’ll alert the rangers and go from there. I’ve got to get to those people. Niall and his daughter.”

She looked at me, so worried. I had to leave right away, before I fell apart. I hugged her and left.

I trotted down the street well aware that I had to get a ride or hook up with Aric and Hank. The latter was the smart thing to do. So how come I was so reluctant?

I spotted the town’s one gas station. If anyone had a car to rent in Crownpoint, it would be there. Afternoon. The town was a-bustle. I really wanted to be on my own. Common sense said I should find Aric and Hank. Except nothing about this whole thing made sense.

I leaned against a telephone pole stapled with fliers proclaiming Indian rodeos, powwows, and job counseling. I was stuck, afraid to move. I caught a whiff of frybread on the air. My mouth watered. Few things tasted better than frybread with honey or sugar on top.

Maybe food would get my brain going again. I needed time to think, to put stuff together, to understand what was really going on. I looked at Hank’s watch. I was running out of time.

I was missing something. Whatever. I had to do the best I could do. I walked toward the gas station. A couple of
cars sat on the lot. One, an old pickup, looked like a prime rental. I broke into a trot.

The blast of a horn made me stumble. My heart raced. I turned, ready for who-knew-what. Aric’s Land Rover zoomed toward me. I cringed, but held my stance. Hands waved at me from the open passenger’s and driver’s side windows.

Oh, dear.

Aric was at the wheel and Hank sat in the passenger’s seat.

More bumpy roads with numerous potholes in the packed dirt. I sat between the two men and ate the sandwich handed to me by Hank. Turkey, mayo, lettuce, no tomato. He knew me well. Maybe too well.

The sandwich had appeared out of a Bashas’ Supermarket bag. I wondered if he’d gotten me a pickle or chips. I didn’t dare ask, lest I unleash the floodgates of his fury.

No one was talking. Neither man had yelled at me. Neither, in fact, had said a word.

I pretended to be upset. Actually, I was pretty pleased with the silence. I took a sip from the huge water bottle provided by Hank. The water slid down cool and refreshing.

A sea of desert sprawled beyond the bug-spattered windshield. Strips of clouds banded the bright blue sky. A few miles back, we’d turned left at the long-abandoned Seven Lakes Trading Post. Our route took us on or near The Bisti Badlands. I’d always wanted to visit and see the Hoodoos. Some were strange outcroppings of pedestal rock with tilted flat pancake hats atop them. Others
looked like giant mushroom-shaped fields of stone. I’d seen photos and had been amazed.

Over a small rise, cattle stood in clumps. What a wild place for cattle to graze. How could they possibly get enough water? But they must.

The land undulated, and for miles and miles we saw no sign of humankind. Hawks danced on the air currents overhead. The clouds gradually coalesced, and a soft rain began to fall.

“That won’t help,” Aric said.

“Ayuh,” Hank said.

“I wish we could go faster,” I said.

The two looked at me as if I’d grown a second head. The gray, fading light slowed us even more.

I worried about the time.

I thought of all that had happened and wondered what Governor Bowannie would have made of all the blood and violence over pot shards and a skull and the blood fetish. I wished he were here to guide us. I believed he was the only one who understood what was going on. Or maybe that was simply my wishful thinking. Maybe there were no answers.

The rain hardened, and the road became less and less visible.

I checked my watch—maybe for the fiftieth time.

“We’ve got less than an hour to make the meeting,” I said.

“We’ll make it,” Aric said.

I waited. Neither man spoke.

And then my anger bubbled up. I wanted to tell them about the old woman at the library. About Kai and the blood fetish and the useless Taser. Except neither man was saying a thing.

I leaned forward, retrieved my purse and plucked out my cell phone and lipstick. Few things seemed to annoy men more than donning lipstick when the world was falling apart.

I moved the rearview mirror, which I knew would annoy
them further, and slashed peach something across my lips. Aric grunted, which I found oddly satisfying. Hank’s chuckle was simply irritating.

I felt like a mackerel sandwich between those two.

I flipped open the phone, saw I had coverage, and called Gert.

“Hey, G, it’s me,” I said.

“It’s about time,” she said.

“Let me tell you a few of my adventures, since we last spoke.” I launched into a litany, which was punctuated by
ooh
s and
ah
s and
yikes
from the other end.

I checked my watch. We had fifty minutes, which felt like not nearly enough time.

In the background, Aric seemed to be grunting, while Hank began to softly curse. At least they’d stopped the silent treatment.

“Anything on the carbon dating?” I asked.

“Yeah, finally.” Exasperation filled Gert’s words. “Took me forever to get Kranak moving, and then
he
had to do this whole trip on this really dumb judge. I mean, the guy was one nasty piece of—”

“Gert! Please, hon, I’d love to hear later, but now, what were the results?”

“Cool your jets, Tal. You sound really stressed.”

“Didn’t I just explain what’s been going on? Stressed is sort of an understatement. The pot? Please!”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s one of those old things. Like from
A.D.
1100 or something. Wait a minute, let me get the paper, huh?”

“Um, yeah. Sure. Get it.”

I glanced at Hank while I waited. He must have sensed me watching, because he turned, slowly drew off his sunglasses, and stared. His cool blue eyes blazed hot. Then he leaned down and kissed me, and I became lost in his passion.