Wind Spirit [Ella Clah 10] (5 page)

Ella looked at Rose, surprised to hear that her brother had done a special blessing over her mom and the children.

Rose looked back at Ella and nodded. “It was the right thing to do,” she said. “My daughter-in-law insisted, and for once, I agreed with her.”

Ella said nothing, though she was starting to feel like Typhoid Mary.

Jennifer Clani looked at Ella speculatively and warned, “But not everyone will feel like my family does—particularly if they watched the morning news on TV. Do you remember the camera crew that was there yesterday?”

Ella nodded. “Don’t tell me they got everything on tape and decided to actually put it on the air.”

Jennifer nodded. “It was pretty impressive,” she said, and shuddered. “One minute you were beneath the sheet, and the next you were sitting up. It made my grandmother jump right out of her chair.”

Ella stared at Boots in surprise. “You saw it too?” Seeing Boots nod, she added, “I’m amazed you still came.”

Boots smiled. “Our tribe’s medical examiner was interviewed, too, and she said that if you’d really been dead and deprived of oxygen for as long as it took them to dig you out, you’d have permanent brain damage and probably wouldn’t
be able to even move. Between that, and your brother’s assurances that you weren’t really dead in the first place . . .” she said with a shrug. “For me, it was enough.”

Jennifer paused before continuing. “But others have different opinions and explanations for what happened.” Jennifer looked at Ella hesitantly. “You
will
have a Sing done like your brother said, won’t you?”

Ella suddenly realized that Jennifer had come despite the fears and doubts she still harbored, and that act of loyalty touched her deeply. “Yes, I will, just as soon as I can find the
hataalii
and make the request. In fact, I’m planning to start searching for him myself today.”

“They say he often goes to the area where the Mancos River flows into the San Juan. That’s said to be a holy place, and that’s where he likes to get the white sand he uses for his sand paintings.”

“Then I’ll drive up there this morning,” Ella answered. Jennifer had done her part by showing up, she’d do hers.

As Jennifer walked up the hall to Dawn’s room and Rose went back into the kitchen, Ella picked up Dawn’s toys from the living-room carpet, grateful to do this very ordinary chore.

Once finished, her thoughts turned naturally to John Tso and the search she’d begin shortly. She was actually looking forward to the road trip. It would give her time to sort out her thoughts.

Although she’d never be able to prove what she’d experienced hadn’t been brought on by her own terror, one thing was clear. If death signaled the end of life, then the path that led to death wasn’t an unpleasant one. Death didn’t need to be feared. And if there was a life beyond death—and everything in her was telling her there was—then that gave everything a whole new perspective, one she’d never considered before.

Hearing the phone ring and her mother answering, Ella focused on the present. It was time to concentrate on her life here and the work she had to do.

Rose returned to the living room a moment later. “The manager of the trading post at Beclabito said he saw
hastiin sání
just yesterday.”

“Then I’ll start there since it’s closer, then go where Boots suggested,” Ella said, standing.

“I’ll fix you a thermos of cocoa and a snack to take with you,” Rose said. “I wish you could stay home today, but I know it’s important that you get this Sing done quickly.” She sighed. “The basic problem—what’s going to compound people’s fears—is our family legacy, you know.”

“No one will ever forget the stories about that particular ancestor of ours, will they?” Ella observed.

“When I was younger, Mist Eagle seemed like the epitome of foolishness and evil, but now that I’m older and have seen more of life, I don’t judge her quite as harshly,” Rose said. “She was just a woman in love.”

Hearing soft footsteps, Ella turned her head and saw Jennifer Clani at the end of the hall. “I don’t know the details behind your family legacy, but I do know that’s the reason some of the traditionalists are afraid of your family. Does the legacy have something to do with the gift of intuition that runs through the women in your clan?”

Ella wasn’t surprised that Lena Clani, Rose’s old friend, had never given Boots the details. Her mother’s friends were fiercely loyal to her. That was a quality Rose often inspired in others.

“Come sit with us,” Rose said. “You have a right to hear the story.” As Jennifer sat down, Rose continued softly. “It started generations ago, before the
Dineh
had a reservation, even before the war with the white man. Mist Eagle, a woman of our clan, fell in love with Fire Hawk, a man who was also from our clan. Respecting the taboo, Fire Hawk married another,
but Mist Eagle’s love for him continued to grow. One night when Fire Hawk’s wife went out, Mist Eagle went into his hogan and seduced him. Before long, it was clear that she was pregnant.”

“Did he leave his wife?” Jennifer asked, a touch of horror in her voice.

Ella heard it and understood. The People considered a physical relationship with someone of their own clan to be incest. “Fire Hawk committed suicide rather than face the shame,” Ella said.

“What happened to Mist Eagle?” Boots asked.

“She gave birth to a girl, but she and her daughter were shunned,” Rose said. “Alone, Mist Eagle learned about herbs and about healing. Skinwalkers sought her out and were the only ones who would speak to her, so Mist Eagle learned what they could teach her, though she never became like them.

“Then, one day, she helped an old man who had gone out alone into the desert to die. When he returned to his village healed, word about her abilities spread. People started going to her secretly for help, but they were still afraid of her. It was said that Mist Eagle could kill as easily as heal. But the truth was that she never turned to evil.”

“That’s not a bad legacy,” Jennifer said, puzzled.

“It’s not the end of the story,” Rose said in a heavy voice. “Mist Eagle taught her daughter everything she knew. At first the girl used her knowledge and power only for good, but eventually the darkness that surrounded her birth overwhelmed her and she turned to evil.”

“But for the legacy to have continued, Mist Eagle’s daughter must have had a daughter of her own, right?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes, a girl, by her father’s brother, a man who was much older than she. As the generations passed, each child was encouraged to develop whatever special ability he or she possessed,
and make their gift as individual as they were. Yet the roots of evil remained and a few of our ancestors did end up using their gift to harm others. But most of Mist Eagle’s direct descendants have chosen to help the tribe.”

“It’s all mostly legend, you realize that, don’t you?” Ella asked softly, looking at Boots. “I mean, so much time has passed that it’s really impossible for anyone to verify any of this. Stories can grow all by themselves if the speaker has a strong imagination.”

“There’s probably a lot of truth to it, too,” Boots answered. “Our people have relied on word-of-mouth teachings for generations. It’s our way.”

“Certainly there’s
some
truth to the story, but my intuition at least is not so much a gift as it is training. I’ve been taught to be especially observant and that’s given me an edge, like a person who’s gifted in music and studies to become proficient with a certain instrument.”

Boots nodded, but didn’t say anything for a long time.

Ella didn’t interrupt the silence, allowing it to stretch.

“People believe the legacy, so the most important thing now, I think, is for them to see you’re a good person and that you respect the ways of our tribe,” Boots said at last.

Ella nodded. “That’s why I’m going to go find the Singer.”

Rose handed her a paper sack filled with two egg and sausage burritos and a thermos filled with hot chocolate. “Go do what’s necessary, Daughter.”

Ella took the tribal unit and headed north. Once she reached the town of Shiprock, she’d turn east, then follow the road that would lead her past Beclabito and on to Four Corners. As she mapped out the route in her mind, she realized she’d be passing right by Tom Joe’s house. He’d filed a complaint the day before yesterday, reporting that someone had poked holes in his water barrels.

There’d been an outbreak of vandalism in that area lately,
but so far she’d turned up no common denominator to tie them together.

Since it was on the way, stopping by the Joes’ house seemed like a good idea. From what she remembered from the early-morning briefing, the Joes were modernists, so a visit from her wouldn’t be likely to upset them.

Although she was used to traveling across the Rez quickly, particularly whenever she was on her way to interview someone, today she went along at fifty-five miles per hour—at least ten to fifteen miles slower than she would have ever done. She’d spent her entire life living in the future—hurrying from one thing to the next, always focusing on distant goals, but in so doing she’d robbed herself of the present. Maybe it was time to change that along with some other things.

Ella thought about her work in law enforcement. She’d sacrificed everything for it, and somewhere along the way, she’d lost any semblance of balance in her life. She’d spent so much time trying to be better at what she did that she’d forgotten how to be good to herself.

When Ella arrived at the Joes’ wood-frame house north of Rattlesnake and beside the river, she was surprised to see a ceremonial hogan behind the main house. Modernists generally didn’t have them. If the information she had about the Joes was wrong, it was quite possible her presence would make things difficult for everyone.

Uncertain, she remained where she was and waited. The next move would have to be theirs.

Time passed, and Ella remained by the tribal unit patiently. Although she saw someone peer out the front window, no invitation to approach was given.

Finally a young, modern-looking Navajo woman with a hard look in her eyes came out. She was wearing a T-shirt, khaki pants with big pockets, and boots. Her hair hung down to her waist. She looked like a blend of old and new, leading Ella to conclude that they were a family of new traditionalists.

“I’m Janet Joe. Now that grandmother is living with us, my mom and dad have become new traditionalists so you’re not welcome here. They all heard what happened to you the other day and saw it on TV, too.”

“They filed a report of vandalism a few days ago and I’m here to follow it up,” Ella said. “I won’t stay long, but it’s my job to take a look around and get a few questions answered.”

“I figured that, which is why I insisted on coming out. They don’t like me talking to you,” she said, “but I’m not afraid.”

Ella sensed the kind of toughness in Janet that came from facing adversity and coming out on top. Janet Joe had survivor written all over her.

“Show me what was vandalized,” Ella said.

Janet led her to two large covered barrels kept by the corral. Ella could see that someone had poked holes into the thick plastic sides. Crouching down, she studied the punctures. “My guess is that they used a sharp screwdriver or an ice pick.”

Janet nodded. “The holes aren’t big, but the barrels can’t hold water now.”

Ella studied the ground around the barrels carefully. There were tire prints and one of the tires appeared to have a shallow slash across the treads. “Does your family park their truck here sometimes?”

“No. Dad always parks next to the house, where the pickup is now. These tracks are from some other truck.”

As Ella took some photos with a camera she kept in her gear, Janet spoke. “Thanks to the jerk who did this we’re going to have to scrape up the money to buy new barrels. Big ones like these aren’t cheap. Mom’s trying to trade one of the trading post owners a rug for barrels, but these days people would rather have cash.”

“Is this the only way you’ve got to store water?”

“For the animals, yes. We have another barrel beside the back of the house for us. I have a patch kit for inner tubes and plan to put a new seal on the inside before lunch. We’ll get by.”

Ella knew Janet was still trying to make up her mind about her, so she let the silence stretch out.