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  “Your friend is stable and is going to be transported soon. But first she insists on talking to you.”

  “I’ll go see her right now,” Rose said quickly.

  “One word of caution. We have verified that she’s not having a heart attack, nor does it seem likely she’d experienced a stroke. Her blood pressure is on the low end of normal. But we need to keep her from getting overly excited. Until her doctors know exactly what’s behind all this, it’s best for her to remain calm and quiet.”

  “All right. But I better go in now. If she wants to talk to me, she won’t calm down until she’s allowed to do so.” Rose glanced back at Ella.

  “I’ll be right here when you get back, Mom,” Ella responded.

  Relieved, Rose nodded.

  The doctor led the way, then opened the curtain that surrounded Lena’s bed so Rose could approach her friend. “You can only stay for a few minutes,” he said, then walked away, closing the curtain behind him.

  Lena looked at Rose, fear vivid in her eyes. “They won’t find out what’s wrong with me. But you and I know that I was away from our land for too long. I need a hataalii, not an Anglo doctor or some pills.”

  “For now, you may need both,” Rose said resolutely.

  “No. They won’t understand,” Lena repeated. “To them, everything that can’t be measured or weighed is superstition or mental illness.”

  “There’s a lot of truth to what you’re saying, but they’ll still do right by you. You’re going to be moved to the hospital in Shiprock, back on Navajo soil again.”

  “After I’m there, bring your son to me. If he performs a Song of Blessing for me, I’ll get better again and be able to go home. To stay in a hospital … a place where the chindi resides …” She shook her head. “We’re taught to avoid places contaminated by death and this building is filled with it,” she whispered. “I’m sure you can feel it too.”

  Rose nodded, then reached into the medicine bundle she always carried with her and took out two small pieces of flint. “Keep these with you,” she said. “Flint has power and the chindi fear flint. In our Flint Chant, they stand for strength renewed, so they may help you get well too. As long as you have these with you, you won’t have to worry.”

  Lena nodded. “I remember my mother teaching me that flint created a circle of protection around the person carrying it because of the light that flashed off it and the sound it made when it’s carried.”

  “It’s our greatest defense against that form of evil.”

  Lena regarded the pieces thoughtfully. “So I’ll be safe until I leave. But it’s not just the chindi that worries me. What about my garden? Someone has to water it and pull out the weeds, and it needs to be guarded, particularly at night. I didn’t mention this to you earlier, but late last night someone dug up two of my plants. The thief took some ‘falling on rock’ that I was using to make tea.”

  “I’ll go check on your garden, then get someone trustworthy to stay at your house. Don’t concern yourself with anything except getting well.”

  The doctor came in and smiled at Rose. “It’s time for you to let your friend rest.”

  Rose patted Lena’s hand. “I’ll be back to see you soon,” she said.

  Rose met Ella outside in the waiting area. “I have to go find your brother. Once my friend is back in Shiprock, she’s going to need a Song of Blessing done for her, then maybe a Blessing Way later, once she goes home.”

  “I’ll take you—” Ella began, when her cell phone rang. Ella took a few steps away from Rose and spoke hurriedly in low tones.

  Rose watched her. She could tell from her daughter’s expression that something else was going to require her presence.

  As Ella placed the phone back in the case at her belt, Rose exhaled softly. “Has your second cousin driven my truck back to the reservation yet?”

  “No, she’s waiting for me right now. She’s in the main lobby.”

  “Good. You can give me a ride back to where I left it parked. It’s obvious from your expression and the hurried phone call that we both have duties to attend to.”

  Ella hesitated, then sighed. “I’m sorry that I have leave now. A witness has come forward in a case I’ve been working on for days.”

  “Then take me back to my truck. It’s on the way to the Rez anyway. Then you can go about your business.”

  “All right. But, Mom, remember to take care of yourself,” Ella added softly.

  Rose knew what was on her daughter’s mind. “What happened to my friend won’t happen to me. Part of what led to this was that her loyalties were divided because the closest members of her family are living away from the Navajo Nation. But my life is not torn in half, and neither is my heart. I’m happy serving the tribe, and living where our ancestors lived.”

  “I envy you. I’ve always been pulled in different directions.” Ella smiled at her mother. “You’re together, Mom. It’s always been that way with you.”

  Rose smiled, but said nothing. Her daughter had an idealized image of her, one she wouldn’t try to change, but the truth was a lot more complicated than Ella thought. Back in the days when her husband had followed the religion of the white man, her heart had been broken many times. Her spirit had been constantly torn between her love for her husband and the course in life she had to follow to remain true to herself.

  Ella dropped Rose off a short time later outside the mall, and Rose got into her pickup and drove home, her thoughts still on Lena. Clifford had many patients, but today she’d have to make sure Lena went to the top of his list. It was the most important thing she could do for her friend now.

  Hours later. Rose sat in her kitchen drinking a glass of cold herbal tea. She was frustrated and exhausted. She’d stopped by her son’s hogan earlier, but he hadn’t been home, and neither had his wife and son. Rather than wait there and hope he’d return, she’d driven home and worked on the preliminary plant survey reports. She’d be recording the scientific information later with Willie’s help.

  Right now the house was quiet. Jennifer and Dawn were off with the pony again. As soon as Dawn came home from day-school these days, her first stop was always the corral.

  Rose called Sadie Black Shawl using the phone in the kitchen, hoping she could take care of Lena’s home and garden for a few days. Sadie was young and experienced with plants, and was probably still looking for a job.

  Sadie didn’t disappoint her. “That’s a terrific idea. I’m glad you thought of me,” Sadie said. “It’ll be great to be someplace quiet for a few days where I can get some studying done. I live with three other students in a small apartment just off the reservation and there’s always something going on. Tell your friend not to worry,” Sadie added. “I’ll take great care of everything until she gets back.”

  “Wonderful. Can you go to her house tonight? Someone’s been stealing her plants,” Rose said, and explained. “If you leave the back porch light on, you shouldn’t have any problems. Her house is close to the police station too, so if you need help, you’ll have it.”

  “If I catch anyone, except for rabbits raiding her plants, I’ll spray them with water from the garden hose. Just tell me how to get there,” Sadie said, undaunted.

  Rose gave her the address and directions, mentioning where Lena hid a spare house key so she could get inside, then hung up. Moments later. Rose was on her way back to her son’s home, which was only a few miles away. Lena needed the best care, but she didn’t have much money. Maybe once Rose spoke to Clifford, he’d agree to waive his fee or barter for something he needed. Eventually, Lena could trade him for some of the rare plants in her garden.

  As she drove down the narrow dirt road that led to her son’s hogan, a flash of light in her rearview mirror caused her to glance back. Rose’s heart began to race as she saw a truck coming up from behind. It looked like the same vehicle that had followed her once before—the tan pickup. But this time the driver wasn’t keeping his distance.

  Rose saw the clo
ud of dust trailing the truck as the driver raced toward her at high speed. Suddenly realizing that he’d never be able to pass her on this narrow rut of a road, she slowed, gripped the wheel tightly, and started to pull to her right. Her pickup lurched as the left wheel entered the rut where the right wheel had been. With one wheel in the track and the other outside, she had to hold on tightly to maintain control.

  Rose glanced in the rearview mirror, and her heart jumped to her throat. The truck was closing in from behind, but his path indicated he didn’t intend to pass—he was on a collision course.

  With the truck almost upon her, Rose decided she had to act fast or get struck from behind. Gritting her teeth, she gripped the steering wheel even more tightly, then veered sharply to the right, taking her foot off the gas. The truck shot past her as she left the road and careened down a hillside. Rose hung to the wheel, struggling to keep traveling in a straight line, afraid that if she hit the brakes she would flip over. For one breathless moment, she was certain that her old truck would hit a patch of sand halfway down the hill and overturn.

  Somehow, the pickup remained upright, and she slowed enough to finally risk using the brakes. Rose brought the pickup to a stop, reached down, and turned off the engine.

  She brushed a tear from her face. Perhaps the driver hadn’t meant to hit her. She’d probably just overreacted because of his high speed. Memories of her nearly fatal accident several years ago, when a drunk had swerved into her lane and struck her nearly head-on, were still too fresh in her memory. She was still shaking so badly she was afraid to touch the wheel.

  Rose took deep breaths, hoping to slow her pounding heart as she tried to make sense out of what had just happened. One of the first things that occurred to her was that there had been purpose and intent behind the driver’s actions. Unlike her accident at the hands of a drunk driver, this incident had been a deliberate attempt to frighten her.

  Anger swelled inside her as she started up the truck again and circled back onto the road, then parked to take a look around. Only the settling dust revealed the direction the other truck had taken. Remembering some of the things her daughter looked for at crime scenes, she reached for the camera Willie had loaned her, got out of her pickup, and photographed the tire imprints at close range. As a backup, she also made a quick sketch.

  Doing something positive helped her feel more in control of the situation, and soon she was back on the road. A short time later, she arrived at Clifford’s hogan, but there was still no sign of her son or his family.

  Although the driver who had frightened her was nowhere in sight now, she still had to report what had happened. Rose walked to the front door of the main house. Clifford never locked it unless he was going to be away more than a day.

  As she reached for the knob, she saw a piece of paper on the concrete step that had apparently been thumbtacked to the door at one point. It was from her son, telling anyone who dropped by that he was away visiting a patient and would be back later this evening. There was probably another tacked to the front of the medicine hogan.

  Rose sighed softly. That explained where her daughter-in-law and grandson were. Her son had started taking his family with him whenever he had to drive long distances to see a patient and it was after school hours. Loretta and Julian would usually remain nearby playing while Clifford went in to take care of business. They were able to spend more time together as a family and that had eased some of the tension between him and his wife, who’d complained that he was always away with a patient.

  Picking up the phone in the living room, Rose called Ella and recounted what had taken place with the truck. “I’m fine, so you don’t have to worry. I also took photos of the tire tracks.”

  “What else do you remember? Did you see the driver?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Rose answered. “I had to concentrate on my driving.”

  “Mom, unfortunately, there are a lot of tan pickups around. I need something more. Was it new or old?”

  “I’m not sure. It was just a regular pickup—not new, not shiny … so, yes, maybe old.”

  “Was there anything distinctive about it?”

  “Yes. It distinctly tried to run me off the road.”

  “No, I mean—Never mind. Do you think it might have been a drunk driver?”

  “No, there was purpose to this. It wasn’t random. Your brother’s home is the only one down that particular road.”

  “The teens around here are always in a hurry, going nowhere fast, I’ll look into it, and tell you if I find out anything. But Mom, you really should start carrying a cell phone. If you did, you could call for help immediately if you’re ever in trouble.”

  “I don’t want a cell phone. I have no wish to be within everyone’s reach every moment of the day. I’ve done fine without a portable phone all my life, and I’ll continue to be perfectly all right without it in the future.”

  “Will you at least think about it?”

  “All right, but I still don’t think I’ll change my mind.”

  “Are you going home now?”

  “No, I’ve still got some things to do. Before I get in touch with the other Plant Watchers and tell everyone what’s happened to Lena, I have to give the news to Clara Henderson in person. Somehow, I have to soften the shock for her. Then I’ll go by my friend’s house and help her housesitter get settled. I’ll see you later tonight, but don’t wait up for me.”

  Rose hung up, left a note for Clifford asking him to go see Lena as soon as possible, then got ready to leave. Despite everything, she had to admit she’d never felt more alive. She was a woman on a mission and that gave her an incredible sense of purpose. Now, after all these years, she was finally beginning to understand why Ella was a cop and what drove her. They weren’t that different after all.

  EIGHT

  Rose drove to Professor Hoff’s house the following morning and arrived around six-thirty. She loved the early morning hours. It was a time of peace and signaled a new beginning. All things were fresh, and possibilities seemed more like youthful promises.

  Although she was early, she saw Willie watering his front yard with a handheld sprinkler attached to the garden hose. He waved as she pulled up and parked. Hoff’s dog was lying on the porch, resting his massive head between his paws.

  Willie went over and turned off the water, then coiled the hose neatly by the water faucet as she approached carrying the borrowed camera, notepads, and a map of the area they’d be visiting.

  “I’m glad you’re early. I’ve been looking forward to this so much, I got up early too. Kenmore would love to go as well,” he said, glancing down at the dog, who’d stood up, stretched, then walked casually over to where they were standing. “Do you mind if I take him with us? We could go in my SUV Kenmore’s very good on outings like this, and he really loves being out in the field.”

  Rose glanced at the dog, whose tail was now wagging furiously, and didn’t have the heart to say no. “If you don’t mind, it’s fine with me.”

  “Great.” Willie lowered the back tailgate, let out a short whistle, and the dog, exhibiting an agility Rose wouldn’t have dreamed he possessed, leaped into the seatless back of the SUV. The section was completely covered with a thick carpet. “I removed the back seats a long time ago. Now he has plenty of room to stretch out, and I have floor space for supplies, like plenty of drinking water, whenever we go camping.”

  They first drove to an area close to Four Corners, west of the San Juan and just south of where it and the tiny Mancos River merged. It was higher in elevation here than at Shiprock, and Ute Mountain, said to resemble a reclining warrior, loomed just to the north.

  While Kenmore lumbered on ahead, Rose pointed to the river just below the hill where they were standing. “I remember bringing my children here a long, long time ago. Just across from where that big sandbar is now, ‘beeweed’ used to grow. Some of our people, in times of hunger, have been saved from starvation by eating the greens from that plant. The brittle bra
nches can also be used to start a fire. My mother taught me how to spin the twigs into a larger branch, adding a little sand as you go. A dry powder is formed that catches fire very easily. My son and daughter both learned the technique within a few minutes. Are you familiar with ‘beeweed’?”

  “Ah, that’s an easy identification, because Anglos like me call it Rocky Mountain beeplant. Botanists have named it Cleome serrulata.”

  As Willie whistled, Kenmore returned quickly, then they walked down to the shore of the river and walked alongside the rapidly flowing water for nearly a mile, searching carefully. But they found none of the plants they were searching for, not even “beeweed.” In one area where a small backwater had created a moist, fertile area, they found signs that the person with the entrenching tool had been active here too. Kenmore sniffed at the ground curiously, and it seemed obvious that some of the scent of the person remained, though the elements had washed or blown away all of the distinctiveness of any footprints.

  “I can’t tell you how this worries me,” Rose said as they climbed up away from the river and hiked back to the SUV.

  Willie took a deep breath. “I did some research last night. Would you let me guide you to another site? It’s not far from here, maybe six or so miles farther downstream.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Willie took them to an area where the river had meandered like a lazy bull snake, creating a wider lowland beside the river. Several farms were visible, and fields extended almost to the riverbed in a few places where the main irrigation canal fed smaller feeder ditches. Rose nodded as they reached a stretch of land that was familiar to her. “I’d forgotten about this place.” Here the sandbar was so large it split the river into two channels and created an island with trees growing nearly fifty feet high. “I know some of the others have mentioned this place in passing. I believe it’s probably a collection site for some of the older Plant Watchers.”

  He led her to a nearby irrigation ditch that ran parallel to a cornfield. “Do you have any idea who the person with the entrenching tool is?” he said, pointing again to some telltale holes by the bank. “Is it a Navajo, Anglo, medicine man, herbalist, or just someone stealing plants to sell off the reservation at some native plant nursery?”