Plant Them Deep Page 4

  “This place is a disaster. The aboveground uranium tailings left behind have contaminated this entire area in a way that’ll take a miracle to fix. Not to mention the open mine shafts just waiting for someone to fall in. I can’t understand why the tribe allowed this to happen.”

  As he strode off angrily, Sadie glanced over at Rose. “It looks like you may have found a reluctant ally. I know that man. He’s an ecologist for Southwest Power Company. If he’s out here, you can bet he’s surveying the site to see if there’s a way to reclaim this section of land at the same time that they fix the parcel over by Fruitland that was ravaged by coal mining.”

  “So he’s one of their ‘experts.’ Maybe my letters and meetings with their people are finally paying off.”

  “One of the endangered plants mentioned in the list is blazing star, what your people also call ‘tenacious.’ According to my research, it’s supposed to grow in this area—that is, unless the mining operations have wiped them out.”

  “Let’s see if we can find some around here before we leave,” Rose suggested. “But look where you step.”

  Although they searched carefully, this time being extremely careful where they placed their feet, they only found a few poor examples of “tenacious” near a hillside.

  “This plant is scarce under the best conditions, but we should at least have been able to find some growing near the road, where moisture tends to drain. Now, to make things even worse, we find this,” Rose said, pointing to spots on the ground where something had obviously been dug up. “Someone uprooted plants here. My guess, from the proximity of the other ‘tenacious’ plants, is that they took the hardiest ones of that species—those with the best chance of surviving a transplant. I think it’s the same person who’s been stealing the endangered plants too. He used what a friend of mine called an entrenching tool,” she said pointing.

  “Yes, the old GI shovel. I bought mine at an old Army/Navy store. It’s great for camping because it folds up.”

  “‘Tenacious’ is a very good eye-wash medication, and the seeds can be ground up and used as food. This particular plant is important to the heritage of our tribe. It’s considered one of our Life Way medicines and it’s used for prayersticks in several ceremonies. If it’s no longer available …”

  They spent nearly two more hours searching for “tenacious” along the roads and embankments, but finally they were forced to give up. “I have a class this afternoon, so I have to get back,” Sadie said apologetically.

  “All right. We’ve searched long enough. This place always depresses me.”

  Sadie nodded, and soon they were on their way. “You might want to talk to Bradford Knight, the man we saw back there,” Sadie suggested. “If he’s going around to the different areas that need reclamation, he’s probably also taken notes on the plants he’s observed at those sites. He may be able to help us find some of the Plant People that are so scarce right now.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll follow it up,” Rose said.

  It was late afternoon by the time Rose got ready to leave for her appointment with the Anglo man. She’d just climbed into her truck when her old friend Lena Clani, Jennifer’s grandmother, pulled up. Her ancient sedan had traveled more miles than a reservation school bus, but it still ran, and as far as Lena was concerned, that was all that mattered.

  Lena walked up to Rose’s truck and peered in through the passenger’s side, “I thought I’d come by and visit,” she said.

  Lena’s hair was a salt-and-pepper color, her skin deeply tanned and rough. Though Rose could have made a guess, no one really knew how old Lena actually was. Birth certificates hadn’t covered everyone on the reservation until recent times.

  “I’m on my way to see an Anglo ecologist who works for Southwest Power,” Rose said, and explained what had happened earlier.

  “Let me come with you. As a Plant Watcher, I may be able to help a little, or, at the very least, I can be there for moral support.”

  “I’d be glad for your company,” Rose said.

  “Why don’t we take my car? The seats are a lot more comfortable,” Lena said.

  Rose tried not to cringe. Lena had to be the worst driver on the reservation. She seldom went over thirty miles an hour, no matter what the posted speed limit was. This was probably a good thing, considering Lena usually drove down the center, except on the highway, of course. “I think we’ll be more comfortable in my pickup,” Rose said diplomatically. “It has air-conditioning that actually works now since my friend fixed it.”

  “Then your truck it is.”

  As they set out, Lena glanced over at her. “I’ve been asked to give a few classes on native plants at the college. Well, not classes, really. They’ve asked me to come in and talk to the students.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “Yes. Why don’t you join me? You’d still be working for the tribe—in a way—and it’s safer than what you’re doing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you tell my granddaughter that you almost fell into a mine shaft this morning at a site that needs reclamation work? I spoke to her a while ago and she mentioned it to me. I don’t want to lose a friend.”

  “There’s nothing to worry about. I have a woman helper from the Oglala Sioux tribe who’ll be with me.”

  Lena shook her head. “Your helper may be very trustworthy; I won’t speak ill of someone I’ve never met. But you need to be careful who you trust. People with interests linked to those responsible for the damage to our land might want to try to scare you away or discredit your work.”

  “What could happen?”

  “Between the enemies you’ve already made and the ones who don’t want to face up to the environmental disasters we’ve suffered here, you and your helper may find it’s very dangerous driving around to remote areas.”

  “We’ll stay alert,” Rose said, mostly to appease her.

  “Bizaadii and I have already decided to help. You’re going to need someone around to watch your back, so he and I are going to take turns riding shotgun.”

  FOUR

  Rose looked at her old friend in surprise. “You’re kidding. Are you sure my daughter didn’t put you up to this?”

  “Not at all. If you need help, we’ll be close by. That’s what friends are for.”

  Rose sighed. She hadn’t wanted Lena involved in this, but there seemed no way around it now. “All right. We’ll all look out for each other.”

  Once they arrived at the power plant on the east side of the reservation, they went inside the offices of the massive facility and approached the reception desk. The young Navajo girl who greeted them knew Rose.

  “When I heard Mr. Knight talking about the tall, sturdy-looking Navajo woman he’d seen wandering around near the open mines and examining the plants, I had a feeling it was you. I wasn’t surprised when you called and asked for an appointment.” The girl lowered her voice to a whisper. “But if you think he’s going to support your way of reclaiming the land, forget it. He’s missed a lot of work the past year, and probably can’t afford to back any action that doesn’t fit company plans.”

  She started to say more, but seeing someone coming down the hall, her expression changed and she became all business. Rose turned to see who had caused the abrupt change, and saw Maria Poyer approaching with Bradford Knight.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I sit in on the meeting,” Maria said, looking at Lena and nodding politely.

  “Since she’s a Navajo scientist and you’re here to speak about our reclamation work, I thought it would be appropriate to have her present when you and I met. I see you’ve brought someone along too,” Knight said, then looked at Lena.

  Rose introduced Lena as a member of the Plant Watchers.

  Knight gave her a nod. “You’re welcome to take part in this meeting, of course.” He led the way to his office, then offered them all comfortable seats, “Now, how can I help you ladies?”

  Rose s
trongly suspected that Maria and Knight shared the same philosophy about replacing native plants with introduced species. Forcing herself to concentrate only on the business at hand, she began. “I understand that your job is to advise and take part in the reclamation work that needs to be done at the various sites.”

  “That’s right, Mrs. Destea. I’ve been speaking to Maria and she and I have discussed various techniques that will practically guarantee good results. As you know, in the past we’ve had problems because we’ve introduced whatever generic seed stocks happened to be available at a good price, and those died just as soon as we stopped babying them with excess water and fertilizer. They were clearly the wrong plants in the wrong place.”

  Rose nodded slowly. “The focus should have been on selecting the appropriate plants. We are in agreement on that,” she added, trying to ignore the fact that the Anglo was saying her name aloud. “Some plants aren’t meant for our desert, especially under the altered conditions that exist after the miners have moved on. One of the first things that has to be done is to restore the water-trapping nature of the soil, and that takes more than a rich layer of topsoil. We have to make sure water is held where it will do its job—at the roots.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re trying to do now,” Knight said, his voice sounding disinterested, or weary. “We’re experts at this, Mrs. Destea. You’ll just have to let us do our job.”

  Rose tried to keep her expression neutral, but it was obvious that Lena was skeptical. “I came to you today because we’ve recently discovered that some of our most important ceremonial and medicinal plants are becoming very scarce. We’re searching for blazing star and silvery lupine, among others,” she said, using the Anglo terms, and handing him a copy of the complete list. “If we can find some of these varieties and use cuttings, seedlings, or even seeds to replant more in areas that have to be reclaimed, it would be a great service to the tribe.”

  “Not many native species are easily propagated, and as you probably know, transplanting them doesn’t always work either. In the long run, it’s usually more expensive and less productive than using sturdy nursery stock and commercial seed stocks, but I’ll certainly keep what you’ve said in mind.”

  Rose nodded, though she could swear Lena was about to roll her eyes in disbelief. “As you walk around studying the various sections of land, I’d also like to ask that you keep an eye out for the varieties on that list—most have the common Anglo name listed beside them—and if you happen to see any of them, please call me. My telephone number is written at the top of the page.”

  “I’ll be happy to do that for you,” he said, walking them to the door.

  As they walked outside and headed to the truck, Rose and Lena remained quiet.

  Once they were in the truck and on their way, Lena finally spoke. “He has no intention of doing anything to help us or the tribe. You know that, right?”

  Rose nodded. “He was giving us what my daughter calls the ‘party line,’” Rose said with a shrug. “But pointing it out to him wouldn’t have done us any good. I just hope he and Maria aren’t joining forces,” she said, telling Lena about her.

  “The Plant Watchers should know about this situation. It’s their duty to help the Plant People. You need to use the allies you have. And it’s also very possible that, with their help, you’ll be able to find the endangered plants.”

  “You’re right, but it’s going to be awkward for everyone. Collection sites are sacred knowledge that’s inherited in the same way Good Luck Songs are and other family treasures. It’s not right to ask them to divulge their secrets.”

  “How they help is up to them. They may know or be able to find new collection sites for you. There’s an information meeting going on today. Maybe it’s already begun. Why don’t we both go?”

  “I’d been so busy thinking about the plant survey I’d forgotten about the get-together at Gishii’s house,” she said, using Reva Benally’s nickname. She was called “the one with the planting stick” by almost everyone who knew her. It was said that when she wasn’t working outside in her garden, she was cultivating plants inside her house.

  “Let’s go,” Rose said.

  Already in the general area, they arrived a short time later. They walked to the back of the yard, where everyone had gathered around a large buffet table, and were greeted by six women. The youngest of the largely traditionalist group was Jane Jim, who was in her late forties. All the Plant Watchers had welcomed her eagerly, hoping more women of her generation would come join them.

  Gishii came forward and offered Rose and Lena glasses of iced tea. Rose had tried to duplicate the special-blend recipe several times but had never quite managed to get it just right. Gishii had claimed to have given her the recipe, but it was obvious that she’d left at least one ingredient out.

  “Welcome,” Gishii said. “We were hoping you two would join us today.”

  Rose looked at her and then at the others. “I came as the bearer of bad news, I’m afraid. We have a serious situation on our hands, one we felt everyone here should know about.” Rose quickly explained what she’d been hired to do, then read off the list of plants that were believed to be endangered. “My first priority is finding these plants and determining just how low their numbers have become. Also, I’d like to be able to direct the medicine men to new locations where they can still be found.”

  Soon Rose was fielding all kinds of questions, taking suggestions, and offering answers and responses regarding native plants in the area. The other ladies kept turning to her for the last word, and Rose slowly began to feel the weight of responsibility that had been placed on her shoulders when she accepted the tribal council’s job. She silently wondered how often people became leaders simply because no one else stepped up to do the job.

  “The Plant People are moving away because they don’t feel appreciated,” Clara Henderson said. “The modernists and even the new traditionalists think they can go to the closest drugstore and buy the right pill or potion to cure whatever ails them.”

  Rose looked at Clara, who had to be close to ninety-five. She’d outlived all her children, and was one of the most respected members of the Plant Watchers. Clara always had time to help anyone who came to her, and seemed graced with boundless energy.

  “The Plant People want to be among friends,” Clara continued. “They were treated with respect once and they grew to like it. Now they don’t feel loved, so they’ve started to leave us. Maybe if we search for them, they’ll understand that they’re a part of us, just as we are a part of them.”

  Rose placed her hand on Clara’s shoulder. “Well spoken, old friend,” she said softly. “We need the Plant People and we now have to find and take care of them so they’ll become plentiful again.”

  “Some of us may not want to share the exact locations of our own collection sites,” Jane said, “but we can at least let you know if we find any of the plants the medicine men are searching for.” She paused thoughtfully. “I’ve heard that the new traditionalist hataalii has his own garden of native plants and herbs. My sister-in-law told me that another medicine man had to go to him for some ‘brittle grass’ that he needed for an Enemy Way Sing. You might ask him if he’s seen any of the plants we’re looking for.”

  After getting directions to John Joe’s home, which was just east of the river but close to Four Corners, Rose and Lena set out. The directions were complicated, first requiring them to go north on Highway 666 nearly to the Colorado state line, then west down a series of dirt roads back toward the river, roughly parallel to a natural gas pipeline.

  The roads most of the way were nothing more than ruts, alternating between rocky and sandy. “Try to miss at least some of the major holes,” Lena said.

  Just then they hit a rocky stretch that bounced the truck around hard, then a sandy stretch that forced Rose to keep moving or risk bogging down.

  Lena yelped as the rear end of the truck fishtailed from side to side. “You drive like a
crazy person. Slow down!”

  “If I slow down, we’ll get stuck for sure. That means digging out the tires and lining our path with branches to get traction.”

  “What branches? All there are around here are a few stubby clumps of grass,” Lena said.

  “Right. So let me drive.”

  “Why? I know I can pick better routes than you do. I certainly couldn’t do any worse.”

  “I don’t agree. Making up your own lane—that’s worse.” Rose glanced over at her and then promptly hit another hole. Muttering under her breath, she made a concerted effort to keep her eyes on the road, such as it was.

  They arrived at the medicine man’s home, on a low wooded bluff overlooking the San Juan, ten minutes later. There was a horse in the corral, and two goats keeping it company. A new-looking pickup was parked next to the main house, a simple wood-framed structure with a pitched shingle roof. There was a sizable garden in the back, fenced in with chicken wire. About twenty yards from the house was a traditionally designed eight-sided log medicine hogan. The entrance, on most hogans covered by a blanket, was fitted with a regular house door, which was open just a crack. “It must be really hot in there right now,” Lena mumbled.

  They sat in the car, doors open, waiting to be invited.

  “Look,” Rose whispered. “There’s an extension cord leading from the main house to the hogan.”

  “What did you expect? There’s probably a TV in there, he’s a new traditionalist. They choose to follow the old ways—as long as they don’t have to give up cable. Do you think he’ll know what we’re doing, waiting out here?”

  Before Rose could answer, John Joe came out of the medicine hogan and waved at them. He was wearing jeans, a cotton shirt, and the blue sash medicine men often wore around their foreheads.

  “Forgive me for not inviting you in sooner,” John Joe said. “I was trying out my new air conditioner, seeing how effective it was this time of day.” He pointed to a portable evaporative cooler on a wheeled stand just visible inside the hogan. “They work better when you open a door or window a tiny bit, you know.”