Plant Them Deep Page 16

  “He didn’t. But someone using one of those tools has been digging up native plants, the types that have special uses in our culture, at various collection sites throughout the Four Corners. The tribe asked me to check into the condition and availability of certain ceremonial and healing plants, and that’s how I found out what was happening.”

  The officer studied the ground carefully. “The holes do look as if they were made by an entrenching tool. See these scrapes on the dry ground? But it also appears that whoever was here with the plant expert didn’t even get out of his vehicle. I see only one set of footprints.”

  “He must have, or he couldn’t have made the shovel marks. The footprints have been obliterated, covered up, like the ones below. Up here, it was done even more skillfully. He used a branch to smooth them out, then sand. He had a clear view of the area from up here, so he didn’t have to worry about someone sneaking up on him while covering up the tracks. He could take his time.”

  The officer studied the ground for a long time without speaking. “The marks are too indistinct for me to confirm that. But even if you’re right, that doesn’t meant it was murder. The person who was here at the time of the accident may not have wanted to get involved with an investigation after his friend fell.”

  The patrolman spotted a hand trowel on the ground and went over to where it was lying. Beside it was a large plastic trash bag that held several plants that had been dug up with the soil packed around the roots. “It looks like the victim came here to collect some herbs, ventured too close to the side, and fell over when the ground gave way beneath him.”

  Rose shook her head. “That’s not likely. My friend used cloth bags to collect plants he intended on replanting, wrapping the roots in damp cloth. My friend was also very afraid of heights. He wouldn’t have collected anything close to the edge—not even gold.”

  “But we don’t know how close to the edge he was,” Dearman countered. “A good two feet of the edge may have broken away, from the looks of it,” he said, pointing below.

  “Will the medical investigator examine the body?”

  “That’ll be up to my supervisor and the medical investigator. Autopsies are only done when the cause of death isn’t obvious, or when it appears to be connected to a crime.”

  “The victim was a man who dedicated his life to our tribe,” Rose answered. “He deserves to have the questions surrounding his death settled. If I’m right, his chindi will demand justice.” She knew that modernists didn’t really believe in the chindi, labeling what they didn’t personally believe in as superstition, like most Anglos did. But a part of them would always still believe. Some cultural teachings were too ingrained to completely dismiss. She was counting on that now as she waited for the officer’s reaction. Seeing him squirm, she knew she’d gotten to him.

  Dearman cleared his throat. “I’ll pass your statement on to my superiors, along with my report. They’ll have to make the decision.”

  As they were talking it began to drizzle, and in less than a minute it turned into a downpour.

  As the officer placed the plants and the hand trowel into the trunk of his car, Rose found herself wishing that she’d had the camera with her. Now there was no way to record the tire prints and digging marks. At least the body below was covered by the canvas cover Officer Dearman had used.

  As she walked back to the patrolman’s car, the falling rain hid her tears. Her friend was gone, but the good he’d done for the tribe would live after him. There was no greater epitaph.

  FOURTEEN

  Rose got up early the following morning. She’d worried about Lena, and how the news of Charlie Dodge’s death would affect her, all night long. Close to dawn Rose finally made the decision not to tell her, at least not right away. The news of Charlie’s death would just make things worse for Lena.

  After feeding Two and making sure she let Ben Tso know where “salt thin” and “frog tobacco” could be found, Rose picked some huge yellow sunflowers from the back yard, Lena’s favorites, and placed them in a large blue vase containing her special cut-flowers water mix. That would keep the blossoms fresh for days.

  Reaching high up in the cupboard, she took down a small box of cactus pear candy she’d made herself last month. The recipe was one Lena had given her many years ago. As she went into the living room in search of her purse, she heard the sound of someone driving up the gravel driveway.

  Two ran to the door and stood there, but didn’t bark. He seldom did unless he sensed trouble.

  Rose walked to the window and saw a new pickup with tinted glass stop beneath the shade of the tall elm. A moment later, the driver got out, and she saw it was Curtis Largo.

  Rose sighed. He was the last human being she wanted to see today. Without waiting for her to invite him inside, he strode toward her front door.

  Annoyed by his lack of manners, she went out to the porch and stood there waiting.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Destea,” he said, climbing up the steps.

  “I was just on my way out. How can I help you?” she asked coldly.

  “I came to see the work you’ve done so far on the plant survey report. As you pointed out the other day, we are supposed to be working together, and I’m going to share responsibility for the report you’ll be turning in.”

  “I haven’t formalized my notes yet.”

  “Then let me look at what you do have, and we can talk about your plans for the presentation,” he said, undaunted.

  “I’ve tried to get your help before—several times, in fact—but you were too busy to even return my calls.”

  “But I’m here now.”

  Although she’d refused to let Bradford Knight look at her work, Largo was part of the tribe, and the council had specifically asked her to work with him.

  She reluctantly invited him inside and showed him her notes. At least she’d stayed up last night typing them up on her daughter’s computer. She’d intended to give Willie the printout along with her black ink sketches. “It’s not finished, of course, but the maps I’ve drawn identify a general area and my sketches detail the condition of the plants, as do some of the photos I took.”

  “But you haven’t been specific enough with the locations, and that reduces the credibility of the report. You’re asking them to take your word for it—not reporting your findings in a scientific manner that can be verified by others.”

  “I can’t reveal the collection sites. This report will go to outsiders as well, and could fall into many hands. The Singers who cooperated with me did so on the condition that I not disclose the exact locations.” She paused, then took a deep breath. “And I agree with their decision. Those sites have to be protected.”

  “The tribe hired you to look into reports that some of our native plants are becoming endangered. You were supposed to investigate the matter thoroughly and report all the pertinent data. You haven’t complied with that, and from what you’ve just said, you have no intention of doing so. When I pass this news along to the council members, I have a feeling they’ll want to talk to you themselves. You may even be replaced by someone more qualified.”

  “They’re welcome to do so,” Rose said, ignoring that Largo was obviously after her job himself. “As a matter of fact, I invite them to bring up the issue.”

  Largo tried to pressure her for more information on the exact locations of her survey, but Rose refused to give him any details. Once he realized that he was wasting his time, Largo finally left.

  Rose watched as the man sped off in his truck, leaving a huge cloud of dust behind him, then sat down again. As much as she disliked Largo, she had to admit he’d made a good point. The council was paying her to do more than deliver a report that basically said “trust me.”

  Yet, she couldn’t give them precise information that would serve as a map to locating plants. The sites were under attack, and they needed to be protected. She considered what she knew. If the hataaliis were right and someone was following them, the thief would s
oon have an impressive body of knowledge concerning their sources, and be able to do untold harm. The thought filled her with disgust. It was bad enough that this thief was taking the Plant People—but turning all of them into accomplices made the deed even worse.

  Rose took the box of candy and the vase with the flowers she’d cut for Lena, and drove directly to the hospital. She needed to see her friend today even more than ever. Rose was very worried about her. Although she’d make it a point not to tell Lena about Charlie, she was prepared to do whatever she could in order to quiet her fears. Lena had to be protected until she could find harmony and recover.

  Rose arrived at the hospital a half hour later and went directly to Lena’s room. Daylight streamed through the opened curtains, and in the bright light, Rose could see her friend’s features were sunken, and her face was the color of ashes. Lena’s eyes were dull and lacked focus. Frightened, but not daring to show it, Rose picked up a small visitor’s chair and moved it over beside the bed, sitting down.

  Lena looked at the vase of sunflowers Rose placed on the nightstand beside her and smiled weakly. “Thank you. These must be from your garden.”

  “They are. I also brought you some candy. Would you like a piece?” Seeing Lena shake her head, Rose placed the box beside the flowers. “I’ll leave the box next to your bed so you can have some whenever you want.”

  “Did you find our friend?” she whispered, referring to Charlie.

  Rose had never lied to Lena, but this time she had no choice. “He’s found some of the plants that our medicine men needed so badly, and is trying to find a way to make sure everyone gets a fair share. He couldn’t come back as he’d planned.” That last part was certainly true.

  “He knows the Plant People better than anyone. He’ll do what’s right.” Mercifully, Lena didn’t notice that Rose couldn’t look her in the face.

  Rose fought the tears that had begun to form in her eyes. Afraid that Lena would notice, she stood up and, pretending to search for a paper towel to clean up a few drops of water she’d spilled from the vase, stepped out of the room.

  She was leaning against the wall, a few paper towels in hand, when Herman came up. “What’s wrong? Is it our friend? Is she worse than before?”

  Rose shook her head, then explained what had happened. “She just can’t know what happened to Cháala yet. She won’t be able to handle the news. But I’ve never lied to her before.”

  “You can’t let her see you this upset, she’ll know something is going on. Go on home. I’ll tell her that you realized you were late for a meeting. Meanwhile, I’ll take the paper towels and wipe up the water you spilled.” He paused, then added, “Make sure you tell the others who might visit that we’re keeping the news from her. We don’t want her to hear the news accidentally. But wait, what about the television? Does she listen to the news?”

  “Not usually. She’s always called the TV news a ‘litany of doom.’ I hope she doesn’t get so bored she picks up the habit while here,” Rose said. “But you’re right. We have to do something more.

  “I’ll tell her granddaughter, the rest of her family, and Gishii by phone right away. I’ll also be going to a special meeting of the Plant Watchers this afternoon, so I’ll tell all the ones I see there as well, but I’m sure Gishii will spread the news long before that.”

  “I’ll go in now and see if I can distract her from her illness. She needs to take her thoughts away from it.”

  “Remind her how much I miss her,” Rose added, her voice trembling.

  Herman reached for her hand, but Rose shook her head. If he sympathized now she’d break down and cry. And once she started, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. Rose moved back, and looked at Herman for a moment, asking him silently to understand. His gaze filled with sympathy and compassion, and he nodded. Satisfied, she walked away.

  After calling all of Lena’s family members she could reach from home, Rose met the Plant Watchers at their scheduled gathering place southeast of the San Juan bridges in Shiprock. This spot was part of Clara Henderson’s land—the allotment that her family had been given decades ago by the tribe. Here, upon a former sandbar that once stood in midriver, the Plant Watchers would learn about successful methods of enriching even the poorest of soils.

  They were all seated on folding chairs in the shade of an old grove of cottonwood trees, and the Navajo nursery representative had not yet arrived. Rose took advantage of the moment and told the group about Charlie Dodge’s death, cautioning them not to pass the news to Lena until she was better able to handle it.

  The news had already reached most of them, but as they grieved together for their lost friend, Rose felt closer to them than ever. They were all grandmothers, with the exception of Sadie, the young Oglala Sioux woman, and they’d all seen death visit many times over the years. Somehow, they would survive the loss of Charlie’s friendship as they had the other passings that had touched them, and go on. As Navajos they knew about survival, and as women, they’d learned how to endure the pain life often brought.

  Yet, Rose bore an additional burden—that of guilt. She couldn’t forget that she’d been the one who’d asked Charlie to look into the theft situation, and now he was dead. That was why she’d never give up until she had answers. If his death wasn’t linked to her request, it would loosen the weight of guilt. If it was, she’d see justice done.

  Another hour went by, and they discussed everything they’d learned about building up the soil, increasing water holding capacity, and adding valuable nutrients and organic matter, but the Navajo nursery representative still failed to show up. “This may be partially my fault,” Rose announced, aware that Curtis Largo worked for the nursery. “I’m having a very difficult time getting along with the man I was assigned to work with—a bureaucrat from the Navajo Forestry Department. He may have told the others not to work with us as a way to get back at me.” Everyone sympathized with Rose as she told them what had happened.

  “He may be an obstacle in your way, but the Anglo professor sounds like the perfect person for the job. He cares about his work, and sounds knowledgeable,” Jane said.

  Rose looked toward the road. “Maybe he can come and teach us better ways to restore our land and improve the soil.”

  “What’s happening with the search for the Plant People? Have you made any progress in determining what’s going on?” Fannie Woodis asked.

  “The medicine men believe they’re being followed to the collection sites, but they haven’t actually seen anyone. Someone’s watched me too, but he’s always kept his distance. Of course, I’ve made sure I’m alone before I actually go to any site.”

  “Could this person who’s following some of us to the collection sites be responsible for our friend’s death in Arizona?”

  Rose considered it. “I really don’t know for sure, but it’s a possibility.”

  “Then we all have to be extra careful that no one follows us when we go gather the Plant People,” Fannie said firmly.

  “My son usually takes me to gather the Plant People I need because I don’t drive anymore. He’ll watch out for him,” Clara said.

  “Just remember. Don’t try to catch him,” Rose said quickly, recalling the rattler that had been placed in her pickup. “It’s too dangerous. Just get a good look at him, then go. Once we have a description, we can turn everything over to the tribal police.”

  “I suppose you know that there’s another chapter house meeting tonight—an emergency one—called to address the problem of the vanishing Plant People? After the last meeting, word got around and now the whole community knows that someone is stealing our special plants, and that some of the rare ones are disappearing or dying out. Enough people got worried, so it justified calling for a special meeting to discuss the problem. I got a phone call early this morning,” Jane Jim said.

  Rose remembered Curtis Largo’s unexpected visit. Now she understood what had motivated that. He’d come to her home to get ammunition—anything he
could use against her. He’d hoped to be able to tell everyone how little she’d done herself, and how she’d been wrong to blame him—after all, he’d even come to see her. Tonight, she suspected that Curtis would bend the truth any way he could to come out in a favorable light, especially after the last time. She bit back her anger as she told the others.

  “We’ll call everyone else we know and make sure they go tonight,” Gishii said. “You’ll have all the support you need.”

  Rose knew that Gishii was a bit of a gossip and spoke to practically everyone in the area. She had no doubt that once her friend put the word out, people would come.

  After Rose said good-bye to the Plant Watchers, she drove directly to her son’s home. She’d just parked her truck when Julian, her grandson, came running out the front door of the house.

  The six-year-old ran over to her pickup, waiting impatiently as she climbed out of the cab. “Shimasání! Come and see!” Considering himself too old to take her hand any more, he ran over to a brand new bicycle leaning against the side of the house and stood proudly beside it. “I can go anywhere now! I even rode to your house today!”

  “Do your parents know how far you’re going all by yourself?” Rose said, suddenly worried. Julian had wanted a bike for a year now, but she’d advised Clifford not to buy it for him. She’d worried that Julian was too young to have the freedom it would pose.

  “I won’t get hurt. I know how to ride now! I went all the way up to the mesa behind your house, and from there I could see everything!”

  Rose’s chest tightened as she studied the mountain bike. It had tires meant to be driven over uneven terrain and soft, sandy ground. With this he could go practically anywhere. But, on a reservation where secrets were becoming all too common, there was no telling what a child could accidentally stumble across.

  Before she could say anything to him, Clifford came out of the hogan, an elderly Navajo man right behind him. Recognizing Ben Tso, Rose nodded.