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Authors: Aimée & David Thurlo

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BOOK: Red Mesa
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“You’re backing me up against
a wall, Ella.”

“Everything in your life can’t be just about you. Deal with it.” She went back to the living room and opened the front door. “Say good night to your daughter, then let me get some rest. I’ve had a long day.”

Kevin gave his daughter a hug, then started toward the door. As he passed by Ella, he paused. “I’ve already heard about your day, Ella. Sometimes you can be your own worst
enemy.”

Ella fought the urge to kick him in the shins, or higher. He’d said that on purpose, hoping to force her hand in front of Rose. As Kevin drove off and Ella turned, she saw the questions in her mother’s eyes.

“Later,” Ella said. “Let me put Dawn to bed first.”

Ella played with her daughter on the floor with her stuffed toys and blocks until Dawn began to get bored, then bathed her. By
that time Dawn could barely keep her eyes open. She settled down for the night much easier than Ella had expected, and went right to sleep before Ella finished reading the story about the lambs.

When Ella returned to the living room, Rose’s eyes were bright with questions. Ella wanted to protect her, but it was impossible to keep the news of what was happening from her mother. If she didn’t tell
her, Rose would just hear it from someone else.

Ella opted for complete honesty. “My brother and I are trying to find this man, hoping he’ll give me a lead to who killed our cousin, but people are out for blood. I’ve got enemies in very high places, and they’re doing everything they can to get people stirred up. Somebody is watching everything I do, and using each opportunity to spread more lies
about me.”

“This kind of talk will die, eventually, but your sister-in-law is right, to a point. It can do your brother a great deal of harm. His patients have to believe he’s beyond reproach. Something like this could ruin him for good.”

“Mom, my cousin’s killer could walk free, and I could end up going to prison for a crime I didn’t commit if any more of this contrived evidence shows up. I’m
facing some serious stuff here, too. There’s much more at stake than my brother’s reputation.”

“I never said otherwise. But your brother’s patients depend on him. When they’re sick, they need to trust your brother’s knowledge and willingness to help them. He’s in the same position that the
bilagáana
doctors at the hospital are in. His reputation is everything.”

Ella nodded, understanding. At
least she was still collecting a paycheck. But Clifford’s livelihood could be compromised by the company he kept. Without his patients, he wouldn’t be able to provide for his family, and that had to weigh heavily on his mind as well as Loretta’s.

“Mom, I’m too tired to think. I’m going to bed.” Ella went to her room. As she undressed, she switched on the computer, hoping that another instant
message would come in from her informant. But as she finished getting ready for bed, none had come on-screen.

Figuring that it was the perfect ending to an entirely crappy day, she crawled beneath the covers. As she drifted off to sleep, she was finally at peace.

*   *   *

Ella left for work even before Dawn was awake the next morning. She wanted to search the databases, but knew it was better
for her to do that when others weren’t around to check on what she was doing, especially because she was trying to track down Justine’s killer before the trail was stone-cold.

Sitting at her desk, Ella started by trying to find out all she could about Bobby Lujan through department and FBI databases. Ruth had told her a little bit about him, naming him as one of the people Jayne had been hanging
around with recently, but Ella needed more. The search revealed that Lujan’s only local arrest had been a drunken-driving charge, but that was very common on the Rez. She accessed the databases of the county and neighboring police departments, and even the national database through the Feds, but found nothing except two minor disorderly conduct charges.

Ella picked up the phone and called Blalock.
A gravelly voice answered the call, and Ella realized that she’d probably woken FB-Eyes up.

“Good morning, Dwayne. I know it’s early, but I needed to talk to you about someone.” She told him about Bobby Lujan and her interest in him, especially in regards to Jayne and illegal gambling. “I’ve got nothing on Lujan, but it’s possible he knows something pertinent to this investigation.”

“You’re
thinking that he may have wanted to use Justine as leverage to collect a gambling debt and things got out of hand?”

“Yes. Jayne could be right in the middle of what happened to her sister.”

“I’ll look into it. And, Ella, don’t get caught working on this case. You hear me?”

“Perfectly.”

Ella then left a priority call for Harry Ute through the Marshals Service, telling him what she’d learned
about Samuel Begaye from Daniel Benally. As she placed the phone down, she could hear the first of the morning-shift people coming into the station.

Ella decided to leave. Maintaining a low profile now was a matter of necessity. She was walking out the side door when Joseph Neskahi stopped her on the steps.

“Ella, I’m really sorry to hear that your brother’s having a difficult time right now.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, a touch of fear creeping beneath her skin.

“My uncle, who’s a friend of Loretta’s family, came by to visit me last night. He mentioned that Loretta had taken Julian and moved back in with her mother. Then, earlier this morning, I ran into your brother at the Trading Post. He sure looked like a man who hasn’t slept very much lately.”

Ella felt her heart sink. “He’s
so used to playing things close to his chest, he didn’t tell Mom and me.” Ella rubbed the back of her neck, shaking her head at how things seemed to be unraveling around her.

“Maybe it’s a good a thing I told you, then. You should also be aware that there’s some nasty gossip about you going around. It’s just garbage about your family legacy and you turning to evil, and hints that you had something
to do with Justine’s death. I’ve made it a point to come down heavily on anyone I hear talking about it.”

“I used to think that no one ever paid attention to that stuff except the old ones, but now I just don’t know,” Ella said.

“Well, the ones in our generation interpret ‘turning to evil’ as you going psycho. They don’t really buy the rest of the story. And the younger adults think you’re just
another cop who’s flipped out under the pressure.”

“The gossip won’t stop until the truth comes out.” Ella exhaled softly. “I just wish I knew who hates me and hated Justine enough to do this to us.”

Ella thanked the sergeant and walked over to her unit. Moments later, she was on her way to the college. Wilson not only taught the college students, but he was spending a lot of time working with
younger groups. Kids talked freely, the younger ones even more so than the older ones. Maybe he or Jeremiah had heard something that she would find useful.

Ella used the drive time to unwind, focusing on traffic and the warm, pleasant morning. By the time she reached the campus, she felt more in control. There was nothing like a plan to keep her mind focused on business. It was also the best
way she’d found to keep her fear at bay.

Ella walked quickly to Wilson’s office and found him just closing the door, about to leave.

“I see I’ve come at a bad time. You must have a class now,” she said.

“No, actually I have to meet Jeremiah out by one of the portable buildings. He’s setting up an activity. We’re starting early because the middle-school kids have the afternoon off. Their teachers
are having meetings today. Why don’t you walk with me?”

“Okay. That’ll give us a chance to talk.”

“Did you plan on staying for your brother’s and Herman Cloud’s lecture on the traditional way of life?”

That was the second reference to her brother that had taken her by surprise. But then again, none of it should have. Her brother and she led separate lives, and rarely compared schedules. “I’ve
been so caught up in the things that have been happening lately, I didn’t even know he was coming.”

“He probably didn’t say anything because he didn’t think of it.”

“I suspect it’s a little more complicated than that.” She told him about Loretta taking Julian and going to stay with her mother.

Wilson stared at her in amazement. “And he still showed up today? Your brother never ceases to amaze
me.”

Ella nodded. “He tries to be strong—for everyone’s sake—but sometimes Clifford forgets he doesn’t have to be a superhero.”

“Maybe you should talk to him. I know he’s already on campus somewhere. He’s probably in the auditorium reviewing some notes. You can catch up to me later at the portable building or the gym.”

“When’s he scheduled to give his talk?”

Wilson checked his watch. “In ten
minutes or so.”

Ella shook her head. “I better let him finish his talk first. I’ll stick with you for now.”

When they reached the portable building, they discovered the door was propped open. The strong smell of solvent drifted from the entrance. Inside were five high schoolers, scrubbing two of the walls.

“What happened?” Ella asked, looking at the graffiti spray painted on the metal and hard
vinyl surfaces.

“Someone broke in last night and wrecked our place,” Fred Billey said. “They came in through one of the vents next to the heater.”

The young teen looked like one of the gang members Ella had dealt with before, but she couldn’t be sure until she saw a tattoo on his hand.

The boy saw where she was looking. “Yeah, I was in the Many Devils once. So were these other guys. But after
all the trouble and shootings, we quit that way of life. Not officially. We’d be their enemies if we did that. We just don’t hang out with them anymore.” He looked at Wilson Joe. “Professor, we’ve got some more solvent and paper towels in the truck. Want to give me a hand while these guys keep scrubbing? We’re trying to get it all off before it sets up hard.”

“No problem.”

Jeremiah Manyfarms
came out of a storage closet with a mop and bucket with a wringer just after Wilson left. “They’re really good kids,” he said. “They’ve been working their butts off all morning, and have cleaned two of the walls already.”

“Have you had this kind of trouble here before? Did any of the other buildings get hit, too?”

“No, this room was the target, probably to make a point. But don’t worry. This
is actually a good sign. The gangs are seeing that they’re losing this battle and they’re worried. That’s why they attacked us. Trust me, I know how they think.”

“I wouldn’t make any assumptions if I were you. The behavior of the few boys you’ve met and have brought over to your side doesn’t tell you much about what the rest are doing or thinking. This is a tricky issue. As an officer, I’ve battled
this for quite a while.”

“I know. But I’ve also worked with kids for a long time.” He paused, then continued in a low voice. “I moved to California several years ago. Back then I was so heavily involved with Indian rights, I stopped paying much attention to my family. That was when my teenaged boys joined a gang. Then, two years ago, we came home to the Rez to visit relatives. My youngest boy
was wearing gang colors, and looked at a local gang kid the wrong way, I guess. That got him shot and killed.”

Jeremiah was gripping the mop handle so hard his knuckles were white. “That’s when I realized what was happening to the kids—my own as well as the other children here on our land. Indian rights were suddenly a lot less important to me. I knew that to stand up for Indian rights, our kids
have to know that they’re Indian, and today, half of them haven’t got a clue what it means to be Navajo. To them, it’s skin color and living on the Rez—if that. Since they don’t know who and what they are, they’re lost between two worlds. Our kids then reach out to the Anglo world for identity and end up destroying themselves.”

“They watch television shows and see the Anglo world—one that really
doesn’t exist—and want to experience that life. The media, especially movies and TV, are powerful models,” Ella said.

“And there are those, like you, who bring the Anglo world in, meshing our way and theirs, and blur things even more for everyone.”

“But we need that blend. That’s the key to our own survival,” Ella said.

“Maybe, but before you can blend, you have to know what you have to gain
and what you stand to lose. Our kids don’t know enough to make the right choices. They’re just plain lost. They desperately want to belong, not understanding that they already do. They’re part of a tribe that has lived through horrors few can ever imagine, and endured to this day. Our strength as a people is something they can be proud of, but they have to be taught to take pride in who they are.”

Jeremiah started mopping some of the dissolved paint that had made it to the floor. “Some people think I harp on family involvement too much. But we need to have strong families. Moms and dads are too busy working to pay attention to what’s happening at home, and that’s where we have to start. We have to get the parents involved. Tonight we’re having the kids bring their families to watch them
practice, then we’re going to have a cookout.”

Wilson came back into the room carrying a cardboard box containing cleaning supplies. “Ella, I just saw Herman Cloud and your brother leaving the auditorium. They’ve finished their lecture. I must have gotten the wrong time for their presentation.”

Ella excused herself and went outside to find her brother.

TWENTY-TWO

Clifford was surrounded by young men and women. At least here, among students who were constantly exposed to new ideas, unsubstantiated lies and the threat of the legacy didn’t carry much weight.

Ella saw Clifford leave Herman Cloud to answer the students’ questions and come toward her.

“It’s good to see you here,” Ella said. “You must have been a hit,” she added, gesturing to the
small crowd around Herman.

Clifford shook his head and spoke softly. “Don’t kid yourself. They wanted more than knowledge about our ways. Some of them had heard about the
hataalii
who is known to have special powers, and they wanted to take a look for themselves. A lot of the knowledge they gain at this college tells them to rely only on what they observe, yet in their hearts, they know that
the world is comprised of far more than what can be measured and touched. I think they were hoping to see a little magic and a miracle or two, or at least have me read their minds.”

BOOK: Red Mesa
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