Plant Them Deep Page 15

  “Yes,” Herman said quietly. “You don’t do that by accident.”

  “I thought they were only trying to scare me … but now they mean me harm. We both could have been bitten, or been in an accident. What if my granddaughter had been with me?”

  “Maybe the person knew she and your daughter the police officer weren’t at home,” Herman said, taking a closer look at where the reptile was still hiding.

  “From what I can see,” he said, “the snake was in an open gunny sack when it was placed behind your seat. Our voices and the motion of the truck, along with its bad mood after being trapped in the sack, must have triggered its rattling,” he said, then added, “You know it’s rare for a rattlesnake to actually kill an adult, but it could have made you very sick.”

  “Maybe the person was hoping I’d have a car accident.”

  Herman pursed his lips, lost in thought for a moment. “Whoever did this was not just trying to scare you. He’s obviously prepared to go a lot further than that.”

  “I can see that now.” Rose took a deep breath, determination pounding through her with every beat of her heart. “And that does scare me. But if they think they can make me back off, they’re in for a surprise. My daughter and I are alike in that way. We don’t let anyone frighten us away from doing what’s right.”

  “I know that,” Herman said slowly, “and so do all your friends. Whoever did this not only doesn’t know you very well, he has underestimated you badly.”

  Rose looked into the cab through the open doorway. “It hasn’t even tried to slither out. I think we’re going to have to help it escape.”

  “I’ll go find a long, sturdy branch,” Herman said. “Then I’ll try to pick it up by the middle and lift it down to the ground.”

  Herman moved away and started searching. There weren’t many branches of any length around them, most of the vegetation in that spot being shrubs and grasses.

  “Wait,” Rose called out to him. “There should be a spare shovel in the bed of the truck. My daughter always makes me take one along in case I get stuck, and I remember putting it back after I got my truck from the shop.”

  Herman nodded, and walked around to the tailgate. “It’s here.” He climbed up and unfastened the shovel from a small bracket that held it down to the bed with a wing nut.

  “It’s too bad my son isn’t here. He was picking up snakes by their tails when he was ten. He’s never gotten bit either,” Herman said with a laugh, jumping down from the bed with the shovel.

  Working carefully, Herman kept the business end of the shovel poised while Rose moved the lever that allowed the seat to move forward or back. As the seat shifted, the snake, once again feeling threatened, started to coil and rattle furiously.

  “Here you go.” Herman slipped the blade of the shovel under the snake, which immediately coiled into a tight spiral on the metal surface. Stepping back, Herman swung the blade around, and moved quickly away from the vehicle across the highway, which was clear of traffic at the moment. When the snake started to move up the handle, Herman lowered the shovel blade to the ground, dropping the handle and stepping back.

  The shovel bounced slightly, and the snake slipped off onto the ground. Instead of coiling again, it quickly slithered away under a clump of brush.

  “Good work!” Rose called from beside the truck as Herman picked up the shovel and came back across the road.

  “It’ll go on with its life now, as long as it stays off the highway,” he said.

  “Good. Since snakes are related to Thunder and are the earthly form of the Lightning People, harming it in any way would have worsened the drought we’re having.”

  “All things are connected. To kill anything without cause is dangerous,” Herman agreed.

  “Snakes have to crawl through hot sand and rocks because they can’t walk, and they will never have possessions of their own. We should be kind to them, otherwise the gods will think we don’t appreciate who we are and all the things we have.”

  They were on their way down the highway once again after Herman stowed the shovel in the back. “You know, if there was one thing I wish I could make everyone understand, it’s that I’m fighting for more than the lives of a few of the Plant People,” Rose said. “Everything is part of the whole. If even one of the Plant People moves on, it starts a chain of events. Plant People, like us, depend on each other.” She shook her head and lapsed into a long silence.

  Herman never interrupted her thoughts. He was always at ease with her. Rose leaned back in her seat and enjoyed the silence. When two minds thought alike, there was no need for endless chatter.

  Once they reached the roughly hewn canyons between Beclabito and Teec Nos Pos, not having seen Charlie along the entire route from Shiprock, Rose slowed the truck down. They both began watching for his vehicle or tire tracks at places where Charlie might have turned off the highway. After several more minutes had gone by, Herman spotted a fresh-looking trail leading toward a known collection site. Rose turned the truck around and followed the tracks, trying to catch a glimpse of Charlie or his truck.

  She wasn’t surprised he’d come here. This was a large area with varied terrain, moisture supplies, and soil types—a region favored by Charlie and others because so many varieties of Plant People grew undisturbed here.

  Getting out of the truck when the risk of getting stuck became too great, they searched on foot, looking not only for Charlie and his pickup, but also for important plants. Here, at least, there were no signs of the small pointed shovel that she’d seen at so many other sites closer to Shiprock.

  “The Plant People like it here. Smell the fresh blossoms and the scent of sage, pine, and juniper? Even the plants that we haven’t found anywhere else are thriving in this location,” Rose said softly. “There’s even ‘frog tobacco’ and ‘salt thin.’”

  “I can understand why they live in this place. Things are peaceful and undisturbed here. But something else is troubling you. I can hear it in your voice,” Herman said as he continued along the parallel search he was making about twenty feet to her left.

  She shook her head. Words had power, and she was afraid to speak too soon, but something was wrong here. She could feel it as plainly as she could feel the ground beneath the soles of her feet.

  “Look, there’s a pickup over there on the bluff,” Herman said, pointing. “Isn’t that his?”

  “It sure looks like it.” She looked completely around in a circle before moving again. “But I don’t see him anywhere.”

  “He could be out of sight, farther away from the edge,” Herman suggested.

  “That sounds like him. He hates to climb, so he’s either somewhere along the top looking for an easy way to drive down, or he’s gone off in the other direction,” Rose said, trying to remember all she could about Charlie’s work habits.

  They walked along the base of the cliff, trying to spot where Charlie might have found an easy way down. Finally, Rose stopped and listened for a moment. “I don’t like this. The birds should be flying away from the area our friend is disturbing as he walks, and he loves to whistle little tunes as he works, but there’s only silence out here. Even the birds are quiet.”

  “Are you sure that’s his truck up there? If it is, maybe it broke down and he walked back out to the highway to hitch a ride.”

  “It’s possible, but I haven’t seen any of his tracks, have you?” Rose asked.

  Herman shook his head. “I haven’t seen any human tracks, except ours.”

  “He favors thick-soled work boots that give good snake protection. Those leave clear impressions.”

  “We’ll just keep searching. He may be beneath that old truck, trying to breathe some life into it. That thing is nearly as old as I am,” Herman joked. “If he starts it up, we’ll hear it all the way across the valley.”

  Rose took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m worried. The other day at the hospital I asked him to check on the plant thefts, you see …”

  Herma
n nodded, obviously remembering their recent experience with the rattler, and didn’t press her to say more.

  They continued along the bottom of the cliff, but couldn’t see where anyone might have climbed down. When they got to the spot right below where Charlie’s truck was parked, Rose looked up, then pointed overhead. Two vultures were circling. “I’d have spotted them sooner if I’d been looking up instead of down. They’re after something,” she said, her voice taut.

  “Probably a sheep or a cow that wandered off,” Herman said.

  “Nobody has grazed their animals here in a long time. We would have seen their tracks.” Rose shuddered. Like most Navajos, she made it a point to avoid contact with anything that was dead. For courage, she reached into her pocket and grasped her medicine bundle, but still her uneasiness grew.

  As they continued along the foot of the cliff, Rose’s uneasiness intensified. Suddenly they both stopped at the same moment. Twenty feet ahead, lying on the rocks directly below the drop-off, was the broken body of Charlie Dodge.

  Rose held her breath and stared in horror. There was no doubt that her friend was dead. His limbs were bent at odd, unnatural angles and his head was turned sharply to one side—his neck no doubt broken. Blood stained the rocks and earth around his body. His eyes were staring at nothing, but they seemed to cut right through her. Rose turned her face away.

  Herman found his voice after a moment. “We have to go find a telephone now. We need the police … or someone,” he managed.

  Rose wanted to speak, but the words were all lodged in her throat.

  “He obviously got too close to the edge,” Herman said, looking up.

  Rose shook her head, but still couldn’t speak. That wasn’t the explanation for whatever had happened here. Charlie had had vertigo for as long as she’d known him. There was no way he would have been anywhere near the edge of the cliff.

  They’d called the police from a pay phone in Teec Nos Pos outside a gas station, then returned to the area to wait for the officer to arrive. They’d also left a white handkerchief on a stick beside the highway to let the police know where to turn off the main road.

  It was shortly past noon now and the temperature was climbing steadily, though thunderclouds were starting to appear to the southeast. Uncomfortable sitting in the truck, Rose got out and found a boulder to rest on beneath the shade of the cliff well away from where the body was located. “I’ll want to go up there after the police come,” she said, gesturing to the top of the cliff.

  “You mean you want to climb that rock face?”

  “We don’t have to climb. We can drive along until we find an easy way up.”

  “But why? What do you expect to find up on the cliff or in his truck? Down here is where he … the body … ended up.” Herman stopped talking. He knew, like her, that references to the dead were dangerous, especially in a place where the chindi, the evil part of a person, remained after death.

  “I have to find out what happened. He was my friend, and part of the reason he was here was because of me. I’d asked him to help me search for the Plant People.”

  “You aren’t taking responsibility for this accident, are you?” he asked, surprised. “Surely you realize that whatever happened here had nothing to do with you.”

  “I don’t think we know what really happened here,” she said simply. “Not yet.”

  “So let the police find out,” Herman said.

  “I will, but I also need to take a look around myself.”

  “Your daughter’s bullheaded stubbornness when she’s working a case has given her an almost legendary reputation. Now I know who she gets that from.”

  “Who says my daughter is bullheaded and stubborn?” Rose demanded.

  “My nephews,” he said, then stopped. “They say that with respect, not as criticism,” he added slowly. “Do me a favor? Don’t tell her, or I’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “I won’t. But my daughter isn’t stubborn. She knows her duty as a police officer, and that’s why she never gives up.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m not an officer, but I have a duty to my friend.”

  It took nearly an hour before a dusty white tribal unit arrived. Rose suddenly wished she’d been on the New Mexico side of the Rez. At least there she knew practically all the patrolmen, and more importantly, they knew her daughter, who was the senior investigator. Ella would have been kept up on every phase of the investigation and Rose couldn’t think of anyone she would have rather seen handling the case.

  “I’m Officer Vernon Dearman,” the young Navajo man told them, having to duck down to climb out of the vehicle without bumping his head. He was tall, even taller than Ella, wearing the khaki uniform of the tribal police. “I’m here in response to your call. I understand you knew the victim. Is this his name?” Officer Dearman held up a small notebook with Charlie Dodge printed on the page.

  Rose and Herman nodded at the same time. “The body is over beneath the cliff,” Rose said, pointing to where what used to be Charlie was lying. “Do you want us to show you?”

  “If you don’t mind,” he said, looking them both over carefully, and apparently deciding they presented no danger to him.

  Rose nodded. Although she was aware of Herman, neither looked at the other as they carried out their duty. As they neared the spot where Charlie’s body lay, she slowed down, then gestured ahead.

  Forcing herself not to look at the body, Rose studied the surroundings instead while the officer did whatever police do when examining a dead man. On the ground there appeared to be the faint impression of prints—but someone had tossed sand over them, obscuring the basic pattern. She couldn’t even estimate the size of the shoe, but she knew someone had been there.

  “Do you see the footprints?” she asked the officer, who had his portable radio in hand now, calling for someone to come and pick up the body.

  The officer finished his call and looked around casually. “Where?”

  She pointed. “They lead away from the body.”

  He crouched down, studied the ground for a while, then shook his head. “These don’t look like fresh tracks, and the victim hasn’t been dead for more than a day, I’d guess. Maybe they’re old tracks the victim left from a previous trip. Too much sand’s blown over them.”

  “Or maybe someone sprinkled sand over their own tracks.”

  The officer shook his head. “You’d think he’d have done a better job of hiding them had it been done on purpose. Besides, it looks like the victim fell from above. He wouldn’t have left tracks unless he tried to stand and failed, but from what I can see, that didn’t happen. Your friend probably died on impact.” He looked up at her, wariness on his face. “Do you read a lot of mystery novels?”

  Rose knew what he was thinking. “I just observe, that’s all.”

  She saw Dearman studying the cliffside. “There’s a section up there that caved off very recently.” He then glanced down and pointed to the chunk of fresh earth below the body. “As you can see, it’s beneath the victim, which suggests what may have happened. Have you been up there?”

  “No,” she said in a choked voice. “But I’d like to take a look. Is that all right with you, providing I don’t disturb the crime scene?”

  “Crime scene? This still looks like an accident to me.” As he studied her face, the light of understanding dawned on his features. “Your name sounded familiar. Now I know who you are. I saw you on TV speaking out on the gaming issue. Your daughter is with the homicide team working out of the Shiprock station.”

  Rose nodded. “Yes. She’s in charge of the Special Investigations Unit.”

  The officer looked around, noting the darkening skies overhead. “All right. Before it starts to rain, if it’s going to, let’s go take a quick look at what’s up there. Just in case you’re right, I want you two to ride with me. That way we’ll only leave one additional set of tire tracks.”

  After the officer covered the body with a heavy
canvas drop cloth, they climbed into the tribal police unit. Once seated, Rose saw there were no handles on the rear doors, and unlike Ella’s Jeep, there was a screen separating the back from the front. It made her feel like she was in a cage.

  Officer Dearman blazed his own trail up to the top of the high mesa, circling around until he found a suitable route. Rose could hear the sound of underbrush caving beneath the wheels. It was a rough climb, but they made it despite a few difficult sections.

  The officer opened her door from the outside, and Rose got out and looked around. Herman slid across the seat and came out the same way. Immediately, she spotted the small holes that had been dug not far from Charlie’s truck.

  Dearman stopped and looked at both of them. “Stay here. I need to take a look around before any other footprints contaminate any potential evidence. And under no circumstances should you go anywhere near the edge of the cliff. It’s caving off.”

  Rose remained where she was, but her gaze went everywhere. Charlie’s ancient truck was there, the door closed, and everything appeared normal. But there were two distinctly different sets of tire tracks.

  “There was another vehicle here,” she said, “and it wasn’t our pickup either.”

  The patrolman nodded. “You’re correct. And it looks like someone was digging up plants over there. But that’s hardly a surprise. The victim is a well-known Plant Watcher who lived not far from here. I met him by the highway one time when he had a flat.”

  Rose obeyed the officer’s instructions not to move about, but she wanted to study the area where the plants had been dug up. “I can’t tell from here, but will you look for me and tell me if the shovel marks are unusual?”

  “What’s unusual about a shovel?” Dearman asked.

  “I want to know if the marks were made by one of those small GI folding shovels, what’s known in the military as an entrenching tool. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Sure, My dad had one that he took on fishing trips. What’s significant about that type of shovel? The victim was one of those Code Talkers too, a Marine. Perhaps he used one.”