Plant Them Deep Page 10

  “Do you have any suspects?” Ella asked.

  “Well, there’s the new traditionalist hataalii. If he’s setting up a business … that might explain the rare varieties that have been stolen from the gardens several of our Plant Watchers keep.”

  “You do realize that if your theory is right, all the Plant Watchers could be considered suspects?”

  Rose nodded slowly. “And that, daughter, breaks my heart.”

  NINE

  The next morning after Dawn left for day-school, Rose went for a walk outside. Her own garden was arranged in the form of a giant wheel, with different plants sectioned in the wedges between the “spokes.”

  She looked closely, searching for any sign that the plant thief had also visited her, but the only marks on the ground were ones she had made herself, and the plants were all in good condition. Two, despite putting on years, had excellent hearing, and if an intruder came around, Rose was sure he would bark loudly, and possibly even attack a stranger.

  Rose walked around, lost in thought. Somehow she had to come up with a plan to take a look at John Joe’s garden so she’d at least have a chance of ruling him out as the possible thief. But unless he was away seeing a patient, it would be a risky proposition. His medicine hogan was beside his home, she recalled.

  Hearing footsteps, she jumped and turned her head. Herman was walking around the side of the house. “I saw you out here as I pulled up. I hope you don’t mind that I came over. I don’t think you ever heard my truck. You seemed a million miles away.”

  “You’re always welcome,” she said, calming down again, and updated him on what had happened and what she wanted to do next. “I’ve got to come up with a way to get into the hataalii’s garden and look for myself.”

  Herman stared at her like she’d suddenly grown a second head. “Have you lost your mind? He could have you arrested if he catches you, and you’d be facing no end of trouble, especially now that someone’s been running around stealing plants. Do you want your daughter to have her first heart attack?”

  Rose chuckled. “She’ll have a very bad reaction if I get caught, all right, but I still have to do this.”

  Herman took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “If you’re bound and determined to go ahead, you’ll need help. I could try and keep him distracted inside his hogan.”

  “You mean hire him to give you his professional advice on something while I take a look around? That could work!”

  “It could also backfire,” he warned. “He probably won’t trust me, knowing you and I are such good friends. He’s sure to wonder why I didn’t go to your son.”

  “I think he’ll be blinded by his own ego. He’ll probably think you’ve shown uncommonly good sense.”

  Herman laughed. “I have to admit, from what I’ve heard about him, that sounds more in character.”

  Together they came up with a simple plan. “We’ll drive up the road leading to his hogan slowly because you say it’s really bumpy,” Herman said. “Then I’ll drop you off where he can’t see you unless he happens to be watching out a back window. After that, I can drive to the front of his medicine hogan and try to keep him from going around back to where his garden is probably located. If he’s not home at all when I arrive, I’ll come back and help you look around.”

  “It won’t take me but a minute or two, if I can get close enough. I know where it is already, more or less, so I just want a quick look around. I need to know if some of the plants that have been harvested ended up in his garden. I’ll be able to tell at a glance how many of his plants are new arrivals, or if his garden is established with plants that have been growing there for a long time.”

  “If we get arrested for trespassing, your daughter will make sure someone lynches me.”

  Rose smiled. “Your nephews are cops. They’ll protect you.”

  “Are you kidding? She’s a real scrapper. She could take both of them at once—at least two out of three times. And if that isn’t enough, she outranks them.”

  “Then you’ll just have to charm her.”

  “I’m doomed.”

  Feeling a little tense, her heart beating faster as if she were looking for a rattlesnake she knew was out there somewhere. Rose walked toward the medicine man’s home. She was trying to use juniper and piñon trees and any other cover she could find to screen herself from view. A familiar sound put her more at ease. Herman was coming back in his truck along the narrow track that served as a road, according to plan. He pulled to a stop beside her and pushed open the passenger’s-side door.

  “He’s not there. There’s no one around that I could see.” He paused as she got in and fastened her seat belt. “Are you sure you want to go back there and look around?”

  “Yes, but let’s work quickly, because we have no idea when he’s going to return.”

  “My point exactly. I wish you would reconsider.”

  “Not a chance, but if it helps, try to think of this as a golden opportunity,” she said. “Park behind that cluster of junipers. Then, if he comes back before we’re done, he won’t see your truck right away.”

  “This is really risky,” he muttered, then parked where she’d suggested.

  Her hands shaking again, Rose walked toward the back of John Joe’s home. The fenced-in garden had been easy to spot, even on her first visit with Lena. The rest of the yard was naturally landscaped except for a lane where the man obviously parked his vehicle.

  As they reached the garden, protected from rabbits and rodents by a three-foot-high fence of chicken wire and metal fence posts, Rose looked around and listened. “It’s quiet. We’re okay.” She raised her skirt enough to step over the fence.

  The plants weren’t in rows. They were growing in nine or ten small rectangular beds defined by boards half buried, held in place by wooden stakes. She studied the various beds from the access paths made of strewn straw and alfalfa, which helped retain moisture and hold the loose soil in place, and served as a weed-reducing mulch. “This garden is well designed. He’s got several common varieties here. There’s some ‘blue pollen,’ and a few ‘wondering about medicine.’ One of those plants looks like it could have been replanted recently, but it’s hard to say. He may have been digging out weeds, or just moved it to a better location.”

  “All right. You’ve seen enough. Now let’s go.”

  “Let me make sure I brush out our tracks.” Stepping back over the fence, she picked up a handful of dirt, scattering it over their footprints as she retraced their steps. She was nearly done, when she suddenly froze. Her heart rate shot Up immediately.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Herman asked quickly.

  “He’s coming back.”

  Herman listened and looked around. “I don’t hear or see a truck.”

  “He’s coming back, and he’s close,” she repeated, hurrying toward Herman’s vehicle and praying that she wouldn’t panic and break into a run.

  They were nearly to the trees where the truck was hidden when John Joe’s new truck came into view. He pulled up and stopped beside the garden.

  “Hey!” he called out.

  “Keep going!” Rose whispered harshly, more confident than before now that she knew they would make it. “Don’t hurry and don’t look back. Just pretend you didn’t hear him.” Anything else would have been like admitting guilt.

  Herman’s truck was less than twenty feet away, but by the time they reached it and jumped inside, Rose’s mouth was dry and her confidence nearly gone. Herman drove off away from the house, slowly at first, then accelerating once they were out of sight. It was several minutes before he spoke.

  “Do you realize what a disaster that could have been?” he managed through clenched teeth. “He probably recognized us.”

  “Maybe, but we’re all right. Even if he knows it was us, he certainly can’t prove anything. Nothing was harmed or is missing, and we didn’t even leave any footprints near the garden.” She was finally able to relax a bit.

  “Wa
s it worth it?”

  She nodded. “Unless he’s got another garden hidden elsewhere, I don’t think he’s our thief.”

  “But you still don’t know anything for sure.”

  “True, but we’ve made headway. We’ve learned that he’s probably not the one who’s been removing the plants. That’s something, at least.”

  They were silent for a long time as he drove back toward Shiprock. Finally, as they turned off the highway onto the gravel road that eventually led to her place, he glanced over at her. “My hearing is better than yours, and I never heard his pickup until it came around the side of the house. How did you know he was on his way back?”

  “I can sense things sometimes. It’s a gift. But others might prefer to say that, somehow, I heard the truck—that Wind, who always acts as a messenger, carried the sound. You can choose your own explanation.”

  Herman nodded. “Fair enough.”

  Grateful to be spared any more attempts at explaining what couldn’t be explained, she leaned back in her seat and enjoyed the remaining ride.

  By the time Herman left, it was ten forty-five, and Rose knew she had to set out soon if she wanted to catch the hataaliis while they were still at Beautiful Mountain.

  Rose purposely hadn’t told Herman about her plans. She had a feeling he’d had more than enough of her detective work for one day. She smiled, thinking of how nervous he’d been. Yet the truth was she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had that much fun.

  The trip took nearly an hour over mostly dirt or gravel roads, but she felt relaxed and filled with a determined sense of purpose by the time she reached the western side of Beautiful Mountain, which stood nearly a mile higher than the surrounding desert.

  As she drove up a narrow canyon that led to the spot where most Navajos were forced to abandon their vehicles and walk, Rose glanced out the passenger’s window. The road had curved from westbound back to a northerly direction a mile or two earlier, and she could see the path she’d already traveled, winding up from the gentle rise into the foothills. To her surprise, she saw a tan pickup back in the distance following her route. She tried to dismiss the uneasiness she suddenly felt, reasoning that she’d only noticed the truck after she’d turned off the main highway and the driver had made no attempt to close the gap between them. But, despite all that, seeing it there still disturbed her.

  Rose clung to logic. There was no need for her to feel threatened. She was going to be with her son and others she trusted very soon and she couldn’t panic every time she saw a tan truck on the reservation. They were as common as sand in the desert.

  As she parked her truck and started the gentle climb to the spot where the hataaliis were meeting, her thoughts shifted to the Navajo healers. She couldn’t help but wonder how they’d view her plans.

  Rose walked slowly because her leg was aching now after her hasty escape earlier in the day. Ever since her car accident, she’s always had problems with it. Determined not to give in to the discomfort, or admit she could have really used her discarded cane right now, she tried to keep her pace steady.

  As she passed the circle of pines and entered the clearing atop a small hillock where the men were meeting, Clifford saw her and immediately stood.

  “Mother, what are you doing here?” He came toward her quickly. “You shouldn’t be hiking this far from home by yourself. Actually, you shouldn’t be mountain climbing at all.”

  Refusing his offer to take his arm for support, and sitting down without help on one of the rocks, she faced Clifford and the five other medicine men. “I came here today to share information, and present you all with a plan I’ve come up with.”

  She looked at the men, all dressed in faded western-cut jeans and wearing long-sleeved cotton or flannel shirts. John Joe was there too, something that made her uncomfortable, although she tried not to show it. She studied the healers silently before speaking again.

  John Joe was the only one of the five wearing shiny cowboy boots instead of moccasins or sneakers. All had leather medicine pouches at their belts and headbands in various shades of blue or white—the customary colors for a hataalii.

  Rose had thought to change clothes before coming, but she now couldn’t help but wonder if John Joe knew it had been her at his garden earlier, and if he’d show any sign of recognition or say anything. At the moment, all she could see on his face was a bored expression.

  Rose glanced at Ben Tso, the oldest, who’d been a Singer in these parts before Clifford was born. His lined face spoke of power kept in check and of a lifetime of experience. Arturo Taugleche was younger than Clifford by a few years. His hair was long, warrior-style, and his face was filled with the fierceness the gods gave only to the young. He lived on the Arizona side of the reservation, south of Window Rock somewhere. Jimmie Nalcoce was a friend of her son’s, a young man of slight build, with a slender, hawkish-looking face and an unimposing style. Yet, despite outward appearances, he was a highly respected hataalii in southern Utah.

  She explained her plan to have information pooled and resources shared, with the Plant Watchers’ cooperation, then added, “That will get us through this emergency situation, but with your permission, I’d like to take this plan a step further. You all have collection sites you favor. If you would share those locations with me, I’ll personally visit each of those sites and see how many of the rare plants are still growing there, then add those to the master list.”

  “You don’t really expect us to tell you where our collection sites are, particularly now that the Plant People are making themselves scarce, do you?” John Joe said.

  “Watch your tone. She works hard to follow The Way and protect our people. She deserves your respect,” Clifford said in a voice that cracked through the air like a whip.

  John shrugged, then looked at the others. “Her idea sounds dangerous to me. We know someone is digging up the plants we need, and we already suspect this person has followed some of us. There’s no other way the plant thief could have known about so many different locations. By giving away our best locations, we’re just inviting more trouble.”

  “I agree,” Arturo Taugleche said. “We have to protect the Plant People.”

  “I suspect we’re dealing with a person who’s digging up our plants so he can sell them to outsiders who want what they call ‘Southwest gardens,’” Ben Tso said. “With a drought hanging over all of New Mexico, many people are turning to plants they don’t have to water very much. My guess is that the plant thief has no idea of the harm he’s causing by digging up the tribe’s plants and selling them. Let’s face it. Too many of our young ones wouldn’t know ’white flowered medicine’ from ‘sheep’s food.’”

  Rose shook her head. “I think what we’re dealing with goes beyond that,” she said quietly. “Specific plants are being targeted, not just the more common shrubs or flowers. This thief has focused on plants like ‘sheep’s food,’ ‘beeweed,’ and ‘tenacious,’ to name a few. These are plants we use both medicinally and for our rituals, not ornamental ones like yellow sunflowers or young piñon trees, which are so popular for landscaping.”

  A silence fell between them that no one interrupted for a long time.

  Finally, Rose spoke again. “If we help each other out during this time of crisis, we can at least make sure we all have the supplies we need. This will give each of us something to fall back on. These plants belong to the Dineh, all the people.”

  “The risk to our native plant populations remains. We need to protect our sources if we’re to continue treating our patients and performing our traditional ceremonies,” John Joe said firmly. “I won’t share my collection sites.”

  “Although he and I don’t usually agree on much,” Ben said, “in this I feel he’s right. Sharing our collections sites will not solve the real problem.”

  “I will side with them,” Arturo added.

  Jimmie Nalcoce shook his head. “I don’t know yet. I’m going to have to give this some more thought. Years
ago my father showed me where I could find the Plant People and told me never to reveal those places. I’ve honored that request.”

  “But these aren’t normal times,” Rose said.

  “Exactly,” John Joe said. “But our traditions teach us that knowledge has to be guarded. To share all is to leave yourself bare. By revealing this, we’re risking the welfare of our patients.”

  Rose had considered giving these medicine men the list of plants she knew to be endangered, but decided not to now that she’d received so little cooperation. If she shared, it might even encourage hoarding or profiteering, especially with John Joe. Finally she stood. “I understand the way you all feel, but please don’t close your minds to other possibilities. In the meantime, should you need an herb or native plant you can’t find, come to me. I’ll do my best to help you.”

  Rose turned and walked toward the path leading back to her pickup. She could hear Clifford following.

  “I’ll walk back with you,” he said, catching up.

  “Thank you, but no,” she said firmly. “We each have our own duties now.” She saw frustration flash in her son’s eyes, but she also knew that he’d respect her wishes.

  As he turned around reluctantly and walked back to his meeting, she continued slowly down the path. As soon as she was sure he could no longer see her, she began favoring her leg. Concentrating on simply getting back, she moved carefully, making steady progress. The mountainside here was filled with rocks and the terrain was rough and difficult, but as soon as she reached the foot of the next slope, it would level out for a while.