Eagle's Last Stand (8 page)

She watched him approach the snake, then stop and glance all around. Maybe it was already dead.

She watched him use the tip of his boot to prod it, but to her surprise, part of the snake suddenly disappeared. That’s when she realized it wasn’t real. She got out of the SUV and walked over. “What is it?”

“It’s a fake, constructed out of colored sawdust, ash and charcoal. The pattern and materials remind me of the dry paintings Navajo witches use.”

“Skinwalkers?”

He glared at her. “Don’t say that word. Not here.” Looking around, he added, “Get back in the SUV. Hurry.”

She heard the urgency in his voice and moved quickly. Before they were halfway there, the sharp blast of gunfire echoed against the canyon walls behind them and two holes appeared in the windshield.

“Ambush!” Rick said, grabbing Kim’s arm and pulling her to the driver’s side. “Get down!”

Chapter Nine

“Crawl underneath the SUV,” Rick yelled as more bullets kicked up dust inches from his head.

As soon as she was beneath cover, he rolled in and lay next to her.

“We’re trapped!” she said, her voice shaky.

“For now we’re out of his line of sight with a lot of heavy engine metal between him and us,” Rick said, reassuring her by putting his hand on her shoulder. “But we can’t afford to stay pinned down under here. If we’re unable to move, that’ll give him time to change positions and maybe get a clear shot.”

“We need to call for help.”

“That’s the plan.” Rick rolled onto his side, brought out his phone and handed it to her. “Tell Kyle we’re about a hundred yards from the highway and that the shooter is on high ground to the northwest, a couple hundred yards away from us at the moment.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ll put myself in a position to return fire and keep him from flanking us. Best case scenario, I’ll pin him down or force him to move. Then we might be able to climb back inside the truck and get away.”

“Okay, but be careful, please!”

“I’ll be fine,” Rick said, crawling prone to the passenger’s side then inching out. Scrambling to his knees, he moved to the rear of the SUV and took a quick look around.

Hearing a boom and a thud as a bullet struck the rear bumper about a foot away, he ducked back.

“You okay?” Kim called out, fear alive in her voice.

“Yeah. Make the call.”

“I’m waiting... Okay, he’s answering,” Kim told him.

Rick brought out his pistol, slipped off the safety and considered his next move. The glare off the vehicle should interfere with the shooter’s sight. He moved toward the front passenger door and rose up for a look.

He watched carefully for movement and finally saw the shooter’s exact location. If only he had a rifle with a scope. A direct hit with a pistol at this range would be unlikely, but he might be able to either discourage movement or, better yet, force it.

Another shot rang out. This time the bullet struck somewhere up front.

Rick looked to his left, then his right. There was no cover to speak of. If they decided to make a break for the canyon they’d get shot in the back.

“Kyle called the tribal police, but it’ll take at least a half hour or more for them to arrive,” Kim called out to him. “Kyle’s circling around, coming from the northeast. He says he’ll be within range in fifteen minutes or less.”

“Okay. Just stay where you are.”

“How’s Kyle coming around from the east? I thought there was only one way in or out of Copper Canyon, the trail that’s right behind us.”

“There’s another way, providing you travel on foot. Only my family knows it, though.”

“So what do we do now, wait?”

Rick kept his eyes on the shooter’s location and saw movement. Someone was standing. “Hang on a second.”

He moved to the hood, stood and fired two shots at the sniper. Though he missed, the bullets got the shooter’s attention and he dropped to the ground instantly.

A few seconds later the shooter fired again, one bullet high, the second striking the SUV in the side, passing through and whining down the road.

“That was close,” Kim called out. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but he’ll have to think twice about trying to work his way around us now,” Rick said, looking back at the exit hole in the passenger door.

That ruled out any attempt to get behind the wheel. “Come on out, Kim, I want you behind the engine block.”

He bent and looked into her dusty face. Her expression was grim but calm.

“How do we fight back?” she asked.

“We survive. Backup’s on the way. Till then we have to stay alive and protect ourselves from being outflanked.” He reached down and lifted her up to a crouching position. “Keep your head down.”

After the longest five minutes in history, Rick’s phone rang.

“He’s gone.” Kyle’s voice was clear. “There’s a truck in the distance, about a quarter mile down the highway and picking up speed. I’ll call the tribal cops to see if they can set up a roadblock.”

“You sure that’s him?”

“Pretty sure. There’s nobody on that hill anymore. All I can see through my rifle scope is a depression in the sand where the guy was lying.”

Rick motioned for Kim to stay down, then looked out through the windows toward the north. There was Kyle, about a hundred and fifty yards away. Rick glanced to the south, then swept the area all around them, including back toward the canyon. Nobody was in sight.

“It’s okay, Kim,” he said, reaching over and taking her hand. She stood and he brought his arm around her, pulling her close. “We made it.”

* * *

A
FTER
THE
TRIBAL
officers arrived, they went over to the three-dimensional charcoal-and-ash snake left for them on the road. “This was meant to get your attention, a setup to make you stop and present an easy target,” Officer Begay said, taking a photo of it. “It’s not really Navajo witchcraft. All the elements don’t fit. Scattering ashes about in the daytime is insulting to Sun, but that’s not scattered.”

“So we may be talking about someone with limited knowledge of Navajo ways,” Rick added.

“An Anglo maybe?” the other tribal cop, named Henderson, suggested. “Certainly something to consider.” Both officers looked at Kim.

“Might be someone who works with members of the tribe who aren’t Traditionalists,” she replied.

“I agree,” Rick said. “How about we check out the sniper’s position?”

They climbed the low hill to join Kyle, who’d remained near that spot.

Officer Henderson crouched down and studied the ground. “He ignored the impression his body left in the sand, but rubbed out his footprints before he left,” he said. “He wasn’t trying to erase his shooting position, but he was determined to prevent us from finding a boot or shoe print to identify. No shell casings, either, or cigarette butts or hard evidence of any kind. At least we’ll be able to identify the tread patterns from the pickup tires. We photographed them beside the highway.”

“There are reports that you’ve had other problems recently,” Begay said, looking at Rick. “If we go from the assumption that the two incidents are related, then you must have been the target today.”

“Or perhaps your companion,” Henderson said, looking at Kim. “You were at the restaurant, too, correct?”

Kim nodded. “Anyone out to hurt me could have done that weeks ago. This began after Rick returned home.”

“My gut says she’s right,” Rick said, then told them about the falling wall. “The perp failed to take us all out at once, so now maybe he’s decided to come for us one a time.” He looked at Kyle and added, “Stay on your guard, just in case that’s it.”

* * *

R
ICK
AND
K
IM
signed statements that were included in the tribal police report while Kyle caught a ride back to the ranch with Erin, who’d driven up once her husband declared it to be safe. After checking to make sure the SUV was still functional, Rick and Kim were on their way to Hartley.

“I’m thinking all this has something to do with Hosteen
Silver and you,” Kim said, “but I’m not sure what the connection is.”

He pushed the cell phone over to her. “Call Daniel and send him copies of the notebook pages I photographed.”

A moment later Daniel called back. Rick put him on the speaker, which was clearer than the cell phone.

“I’ll put this through a decryption program, but I don’t think we’ll get far,” Daniel said. “It’s not the same code you and our father used earlier. You probably noticed that already.”

Paul was also on the line. “I think we need to talk to Gene. He was the last one to speak to our foster father before he went missing. Hosteen Silver had asked him to go pick up the horse and board it for a while. Maybe he’ll remember something useful.”

“Gene’s up at his ranch?” Rick asked.

“No, he’s staying here at the compound,” Daniel said. “And here he is now.”

Gene’s voice came through next. “After Preston told me what was going on, I decided to put some distance between me and my family. If someone wants to off me, I’m not running, but I want my family out of the line of fire. Some of Daniel’s men are taking care of things at the ranch in case I’m on somebody’s target list. In the meantime I made sure I was seen in Hartley.”

“Good plan,” Rick said, giving him the highlights of their conversation before he joined in. “So what can you tell me about the last time you spoke with Hosteen Silver?”

“There was no grand revelation. He said he seldom went riding anymore and asked if I could use another ranch horse. Later that day, I went to pick up the gelding, but Hosteen Silver wasn’t around. I went inside to check on things and that’s when I realized something was off.”

“Considering he left his private journal, the letters and the keys to his truck right there on the table, I’d say he planned things carefully. He knew he was going for his final walk,” Daniel said. “Did he say anything about a code when you spoke to him?”

“No, not a thing. Just about his horse,” Gene replied. “Preston came over soon after that and we searched the entire canyon, but there was no sign of him.”

“He didn’t want to be found,” Rick said.

“By the way, Preston heard from the fire marshal. He claims that the explosion at the Brickhouse was triggered when a small piece of wood placed on the heating element of an electric hot plate produced a flame,” Daniel reported.

“A very simple setup that would have probably escaped detection if the fire hadn’t been put out so quickly. That establishes arson for sure,” Rick replied.

“Time for a war council,” Daniel said. “Are you on your way to town, Rick?”

“Yeah. I have one stop to make, then I’ll head over to your compound,” he answered.

“Good. We need to come up with a viable tactical plan.”

After he ended the call, Kim looked at him. “Turquoise Dreams—is that where we’re going?”

“Yes, I want to see if your friend remembers the professor’s name and if she can give us some useful insights.”

As they approached the business, they made sure Angelina’s pickup wasn’t there before parking.

The store was smaller than Silver Heritage, but catered to a more affluent clientele. A guard sat on a bar stool near the door and nodded to them as they came in through the small glass foyer.

Jeri ran around the counter to give Kim a hug. “I heard what Angelina did to you, and I’m so sorry! I wish I could talk her out of it, but you know how she is.”

“It’s okay, Jeri. I’ve landed an even better job.” She gestured to Rick. “Have you met my new supervisor?”

Jeri smiled widely and held out her hand, offering to shake. “I’m Jeri Murphy.”

“Rick Cloud,” he answered, shaking her hand. He was no Traditionalist and had no problem shaking hands with a stranger.

“So what brings you here?”

“We’re trying to find someone—the young professor who came looking for Hosteen Silver,” Kim said. “Do you remember him?”

“Oh, yeah. Those blue eyes...” She sighed. “What’s to forget?”

“Do you recall his name, or what he teaches? All I remember is that he said he was from Durango,” Kim said.

“He teaches at Fort Lewis College, and introduced himself as Tim McCullough,” she said. “Why are you interested in him?”

“We wanted to know why he was interested in Rick’s foster dad,” she said. “If you hear anything, or if he shows up here again, let me know?”

“Sure,” Jeri said. “If you find him first, tell him we carry high-quality, hand-carved fetishes here at this shop. Maybe he’ll stop by. It sure would be nice to see him again. He’s easy on the eyes.”

Kim smiled. “I’ll remember.”

They started to leave the store when Rick stopped by the security guard, took a closer look at the man’s face and smiled. “Big Joe! I haven’t seen you since high school. I always thought you’d be playing football with the pros someday.”

“Me, too, Rick, till I got injured and sat out my senior year.”

“Now you’re here in the security business,” Rick said.

“Who’d have thought it, huh?” Joe said, laughing. Then he turned serious. “I’ve got friends in the P.D. who’ve kept me current on the situation with you and your family. Anything I can do, just say the word. When I came back from Afghanistan, Hosteen Silver helped me get my head together by doing a pollen blessing over me. I got my life straightened out again ’cause of him, so if his sons need me, I’m there.”

“I never saw you as a Traditionalist, or a new Traditionalist, either,” Rick said, surprised.

“The older you get, the more the Navajo Way makes sense,” he said, referring to the path traditional members of the tribe followed. “It’s in our blood, brother.”

“I hear you. I still carry the medicine pouch my foster father gave me,” Rick told him.

“Your old man definitely had what we call
‘álí·l.
”

Rick nodded and then, glancing at Kim, explained. “It means supernatural power, something that goes beyond what we can explain rationally.”

“That’s why he made enemies,” Joe added. “People continually came to him wanting to become his apprentice. They all wanted to do the things he could, but he turned almost everyone away. Remember Nestor Sandoval? The little guy in our chemistry class who never said much to anyone?”

“What about him?”

“Nestor began to walk the path of a Traditionalist and wanted your foster dad to take him on as an apprentice. After about a week, they had some kind of falling-out.”

“Any idea what happened?” Rick asked.

“Hosteen Silver took his work very seriously, and in my opinion, he figured out that Nestor wanted to manipulate people, not help them.”

“Interesting. What’s Sandoval doing these days?” Rick asked.

“He’s mixed up with a gang of Rez thugs, and let me tell you, he hates your family, especially your foster dad. To hear Nestor talk, Hosteen Silver prevented him from following The Way.”

“Good to know, thanks. Any idea where I can find him?” Rick asked.

“His crew sometimes hangs out at the Taco Emporium on East Broadway. It’s next door to Augustino’s Pawn Shop, where they do business.”