The Witch's Tongue (40 page)

The Catholic priest got out of his worn-out Buick, eyed the Expedition with the Columbine logo painted on the door.
So Charlie Moon is visiting his aunt
. Father Raes Delfino peered through his bifocals at Daisy Perika’s trailer home. As he climbed the porch steps, the visitor reached for the Logo suspended from his neck on a silver chain. He whispered a prayer for the old woman, another for her nephew.

He tapped on the door.
I will let Daisy know that Charlie has provided me with a quiet place to live
. A fine little cabin near a lake. The priest knocked again.
I wonder where they could be?

As was so often the case during the course of these blessed days, the answer
came
to him immediately. He turned, stared at the yawning mouth of Spirit Canyon.
Perhaps I should wait here until they return
. Again, the holy man touched the crucifix.
But that might be a long time
.

DAISY PERIKA
pointed to a place across the canyon where the cliff was honeycombed with pits and caverns. “You know who’s over there.”

Her nephew did know. Daisy was referring to his mother’s bones. The remains were concealed behind a carefully crafted wall of sandstone. Charlie Moon had put her there, and every year without fail—during the Moon of Dead Leaves Falling—he came to maintain the vault. This mother’s son could not find his voice.

“That’s where I want you to put me—someplace close to her.” Daisy blinked her tired old eyes. “But seal me in good so the varmints don’t come and chew on my bones.” She gave the young man a sharp look. “You hear what I’m saying?”

A nod from the nephew.

“And tell the women that fix me—I want to be put away in my purple dress. The one with the silver threads stitched into the collar.”

He managed to make some words. “That’ll be some time yet.”

“And if Father Raes is still alive—I want him here when you put me away. He can say some good words over me, sing a song or two. But if he goes before I do, you bring some other Christian minister out here.” Another steely glare. “I want you to promise me you’ll do what I say.”

Moon tugged the brim of his Stetson down, hiding his eyes in the shadow. “I’ll see to it.”

“Good. Then I’m ready to go.” Daisy gripped the walking stick with both hands, got to her feet with a painful grunt. “That feisty little priest is supposed to come by later today, so I guess I’d better be home when he shows up—just so I can twist his tail.” Daisy firmly believed that her fondness for Father Raes was a deep secret.

But Charlie Moon knew that the old woman loved the priest.

The angels in heaven knew it.

“He’s going to retire,” she sighed. “And move away somewhere.”

“That’s what I hear.”

They resumed a slow pace toward the mouth of the canyon.

Daisy Perika grimaced at a sharp pain in her hip, stopped to lean on her oak walking stick. “It’s a long way home.”

Her nephew nodded. “But you’ll soon be there.”

“I wish I was there already. I am
so
tired.”

Charlie Moon looked at the cloudless sky, where something circled. Too big for a raven. He thought it might be a hawk.

Daisy also looked up, shaded eyes dimmed with age.
I am in the shadow of His wings
. Feeling stronger, she tugged at Moon’s sleeve. “There’s one more thing.”

Her nephew was not surprised. There always was.

“What’s going on between you and that white woman?”

“Which one?”

She groaned. “How many are we talking about?”

“Less than three.”

“I want to know about the one whose first name you won’t tell me.”

“Miss James?”

Daisy nodded.

“She’s gone.”
And won’t be coming back
.

This satisfied the old woman—until she counted to two. “But you have a new girlfriend?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you.”

Daisy made a menacing gesture with the oak rod. “If you don’t, I’ll whack you so hard you’ll forget your middle name.” To emphasize this threat, she gave him a gentle tap.

“I don’t have a middle name.”

“See, it’s working already!”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“That’s quite a lot.” He smiled down at black eyes set deep in the wrinkled face. “But I’ll tell you about one fine day on the Columbine—a day I spent with this good-looking woman.”

She snorted. “Another
white
woman.”

He ignored this. “And as we rode along on our nags, me and this pretty lady heard something. It was a man, in the log cabin by the lake. He was singing an old, old song.”

Daisy trudged along, pegging at the ground with her walking stick. “What man was this?”

He shook his head. “You are not supposed to ask.”

Seeing how much fun her nephew was having, Daisy played along. “Can I ask what old song?”

Moon smiled at the memory of his epiphany on Three Sisters Mesa. “For quite some time, I wasn’t sure myself. But later on, I had an inspiration.”

“Hah,” she said. “That, I would have liked to see.”

“Then I will demonstrate.” He closed his eyes, concentrated for a moment, then pointed at a spot just above his hat. “Did you notice that lightbulb right up there—and how it just flashed?”

She nodded. “It was a tiny one—the kind a sickly firefly has in its tail.”

“Even so, it was enough.” He raised his arm to salute the Three Sisters. They were sitting as still as stone, hanging on his every word. “At that very moment, I understood Kicks Dogs’ dream about seeing Jacob climbing up a moonbeam.”

Another snort. “Silly white woman.”

“But it was not a dream,” Moon said. “And Jacob was not climbing a moonbeam.”

“I know it wasn’t no moonbeam.” She could not help bragging. “And I know what he
was
climbing.”

“I hope you’re not going to tell me Jim Wolfe told you.”

“I won’t say he did, because he didn’t.” The shaman grinned. “I have other ways of knowing stuff.”

“I know you do.” The tribal investigator gave her an odd look. “And so do I.”

His aunt stared straight back at him. “What do
you
know?”

“I know about the ladder.”

Daisy looked away, muttered, “What ladder?”

“The nylon-rope ladder Felix Navarone and Eddie Ganado tossed over the edge of Three Sisters Mesa, so they could climb down to the Witch’s Tongue and hide the Cassidy loot. But they let it fall all the way to the bottom of Snake Canyon. Which is why Jacob Gourd Rattle was able to climb up and confront that pair of thieves—and get himself killed for his trouble.”

She shrugged, as if to say,
Oh
, that
ladder
.

Charlie Moon watched her shrink under his gaze. “When Navarone came back to get the Cassidy coins and cameos, he used his rope ladder again. But he was a few days too late; somebody had already been there and took the stuff.” Yellow Jacket allowed himself a satisfied smile. “But that Apache’s bad luck had just got started. While he was down there, looking for the stuff he’d stashed, somebody pulled the ladder up—left him stranded on the
Uru-suwã-ci Agõ-pi
.”

It took her a dozen heartbeats to muster up the courage; what finally passed her lips resembled a mouse’s squeak: “You have any idea who pulled the ladder up?”

“Yes, I do.” Moon’s eyes twinkled. “Near the edge of the cliff, stuck on a yucca spike, I found a little piece of wool. Yellow wool.” He added, as if it was an afterthought, “Greasewood yellow.”

Daisy’s greasewood-dyed shawl suddenly weighed her shoulders down. The shaman closed her eyes, looked as if she might slip away from Middle World.

The sworn officer of the law smiled at the ill-tempered old soul. “A little hank of wool doesn’t prove that a particular person stranded Navarone on the Witch’s
Agõ-pi—
just that she was in the vicinity.” He patted his aunt on the shoulder. “Anyway, I expect she didn’t intend to leave that Apache out there long enough to die.”

The Daisy made a grim face.
Don’t bet the farm on it
.

“Matter of fact,” he added, “I think she had one of her friends call the SUPD dispatcher about a suspicious truck somebody’d left on Three Sisters Mesa—so the tribal police would rescue Navarone.”

She opened her eyes, looked longingly toward the mesa, as if memories of happier times might be hidden up there in the mists. “It’s too bad all those people had to die.”

Moon followed her gaze. “They didn’t have to die—they made wrong choices. Eddie Ganado preferred stealing to living by honest work. Jim Wolfe cared more about getting even with Felix Navarone than staying alive.”

Charlie always tried to make sense of things, but Daisy saw her chaotic world through a darker lens. “What about Jacob Gourd Rattle—what mistake did he make?”

“Jacob?” Moon thought about it. “Well, I’d say he picked the wrong ladder to climb.”

“What do you mean?” She squinted at her enigmatic nephew. “There wasn’t another ladder—was there?”

“Sure.” Moon’s dark eyes sparkled. “There’s always another ladder.”

This annoyed the crotchety old woman no end. “That don’t make any sense.”

“I sense that you are a doubter.” While Father Raes was still far away, Charlie Moon had seen him coming up the canyon. “If you are ready, I will demonstrate my point.”

“I’m ready as I ever will be,” Daisy grumped.

Indeed she was.

The happy man threw his head back, boomed out in a voice that could have shattered stones,

The elder called out in a raspy, cracking voice so lovely it pierced the hearts of angels,

The rhythm of the hymn vibrated in willow limbs.

Blissful syllables ricocheted off ancient stone walls.

All manner of feathered bird, furry beast, scaly reptile—even lowly invertebrates—the whole multitude took time off from their sundry tasks to listen and wonder.

The trio’s voices were heard by a three-toed woodpecker. A long-tailed vole. A collared lizard. Even a six-legged juniper hairstreak—a lowly creature of whom hardly anyone ever speaks.

Like the precious days and hours, the song proceeded along its way.

To here, there, and forever.

It mattered not that the vacuum of interstellar space cannot carry sound. Unfettered by lesser laws, the joyful words went forth to Brother Sun, Sister Moon, and well beyond the silent warp of space to penetrate that sly illusion called Time.