Chapter Nine

McGee divides the list of 1491ers Naalnish Begay gave him into three separate lists and arbitrarily assigns each partner in the McGee & Associates Investigations firm a third. They all have satellite phones, recording devices, GPSs, and the necessary weaponry for what they believe might turn out to be a regular cowboy and Indian skirmish. Each of them is able to drive more than a hundred miles before having to park their trucks and get on horses. For all of his inner-city bravado, Ivory is afraid of horses—mainly that he will fall off.

Ivory bumps along the rutted trail on the rock-hard saddle and wonders if he will ever be able to have children after this ride. The colors are interesting but monotonous. Give him a view of New York from a skyscraper. How can anybody even consider living in a place like this? No noise, no buildings, no people; arid, barren, and almost devoid of the color green? You can’t even smell the air. By anybody’s definition, it is a very challenging place to live. The expanses are huge, and Ivory is daunted; will he ever get there and back? The Southwest region of the United States includes Arizona, California, New Mexico, and parts of Utah. The Navajo live on Diné Bikéyah [Navajoland], which is larger than ten of the fifty states in America. The Navajo Indian Reservation covers about 27,000 square miles of land—more than 16 million acres—an area larger than West Virginia and equal in size to Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island combined. It lies between Arizona and New Mexico and the fact that it is an extremely arid, barren region has made it a challenging place to live; and for Ivory, a very challenging place to ride.

Navajo Nation is the name of a sovereign Native American nation established by the Diné—occupying all of northeastern Arizona, and extending into Utah and New Mexico—and is the largest land area assigned primarily to a Native American jurisdiction within the United States. Over decades, the Navajo Nation has become known as a wealthy nation in a world of its own; but for many of the 300,000 members of the Nation, there is only poverty and squalor. The Nation has a sophisticated tribal government that superficially appears to be autonomous from both state and federal control. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Government in the Navajo Nation has fumbled along and has been wracked with corruption and scandals from the discovery of oil on Navajo land in the early 1920s, which promoted the need for a more systematic form of government. In 1923 a tribal government was established to help meet the increasing desires of American oil companies to lease Navajo land for exploration. Navajo government has evolved into the largest and most sophisticated form of American Indian government and possibly the most wasteful.

After a five-hour ride, Ivory finally arrives at the GPS location provided him by Naalnish Begay. He is looking at a trailer without wheels. Of five homes clustered between two protective maroon-colored cliffs, two are masonry and stucco, two are trailers, and one is a traditional hogán. Two boys and a girl are playing an intensely competitive game of basketball on a court improvised on hard-packed clay dust. In Navajo land, there are only two sports that matter—basketball and rodeo. It is a little early for the rodeos to get going. Dibé [sheep] are feeding in a small corral—sheep are a source of food but also are an important part of Navajo culture.

In many places on the reservation, vehicles have replaced horses and walking sheepherders. Today’s sheepherders are more likely than not to live in a double-wide trailer with air-conditioning powered by electricity. They have a concrete basketball court and a nice truck parked in the yard and as many as five satellite dishes on the roof. Honored Grandmother lives nearby. She has three sheep and a dog. She takes the sheep out daily and brings them back to the pen, returns to her home, and starts over the next day like the rest of the family. They often eat together and remain close-knit families.

Atsidi Nezbah lives too far out into the desert to have all of those accoutrements of modern living, and he would not have them even if they were available and affordable. His home has no electricity or indoor plumbing. Atsidi makes a meager living creating silver and turquoise jewelry between visits to neighbors who live 100 to 200 miles away to perform the ancient traditional Navajo rituals, usually the Enemy Way or the Night Way ceremonies to restore someone to health. Atsidi—like many other recognized medicine men—is fairly well compensated for his efforts, but the opportunities are decreasing as more Navajos convert to Christianity—especially Mormonism—and more Navajos embrace modern education.

Atsidi has invited three of his fellow medicine men to join in the discussion with Ivory White, evidence that at least some of the fundamentalist Diné Hatałiis [medicine men] are concerned with the suspicion that the 1491ers might be involved in the three recent murders. Ivory is a head taller and four shades darker than the four hataliis, and the small main room in the trailer is crowded. They somehow find sitting room. The Spartan lodging has a propane stove, a table, futon, and a twin bed, and boxes of National Geographic magazines and well-thumbed photo albums. Headroom is diminished by a narrow counter for cooking and shelves for pans and dishes. Newspapers and alfalfa are strewn on the floor for insulation and to manage dust and vermin.

They shake hands, and the men smile at the newcomer—a novelty in their experience. Two of them have never seen a Negro, and none of them has ever had a black man in his home.

“Yá’át’ééh [Welcome], Buffalo Soldier,” Atsidi says.

“What’s a Buffalo Soldier?” Ivory asks.

“A black soldier who works for the white man’s cavalry … it’s a historical thing,” Toh Yah Blue Horse says.

“I take it that’s not a favorable reference,” Ivory says.

“It’s history, the past. We don’t have any other way to think of you, and it is kind of a joke. No disrespect intended,” replies Niichaad Manymules, a very fat and pleasant man.

“None taken.”

Atsidi says, “You have come a long distance, and by the way you are squirming in your seat, it doesn’t look like you enjoyed the horseback trip. We should talk about why you came so you can get to a bed.”

“You already know why I’m here. What can you tell me? I am presuming that you had nothing to do with the killings unless I can’t get good information from you, or I later get some evidence that changes my mind. I’m not a cop; I am just helping a friend. He and I worry that someone is targeting good people. I hope you feel the same way, my friends.”

“We do, and would do whatever we can to help. The people who want to preserve the Navajo ways are getting a bad name, and we don’t want that. We have talked to our friends around the res, and we know that they have been uncooperative. They just don’t trust outsiders and for good reason. But we are as sure as we can be that none of us killed anybody. Maybe you have heard of the rider on the pale horse, Ivory?”

“I have. I believe the sightings; and they certainly seem to indicate an Indian fundamentalist sending a message—a threat, in fact.”

“That is so,” says Quincy Tahoma. “I am from the ‘Azee’tsoh Dine’4 [Big Medicine People] clan. None of my people know of anyone who might have done these bad things. We have branched out to contact the B88h Bitoodnii [Deer Spring People], the B88htsoh Dine’4 [Big Deer People], the Deeshchii’nii [Start-of-the-Red-Streaked People], and many of the D0lii Dine’4 [Blue Bird People] clans. Nobody in these clans has any idea where this pale rider comes from or why he is killing—if, in fact, he is killing our tribe members.

“And among all of us, we can say the same thing for the Dichin Dine’4 [Hunger People], the Dzaan44z {1n7 [Many Mules Clan], the Hooghan {1n7 [Many Hogáns Clan], the Jaa’yaal0olii Dine’4 [Sticking-up-Ears People], and the K’ai’ Ch’4b1anii [Line-of-Willows-Extend-out-Gray People]}. And they talk to many more of the people. We do not believe that our people—even crazy ones—did this. There are too many that we have talked to. One of them would know, and they would talk to us,” adds Niichaad Manymules.

“So, what do you think is going on?” asks Ivory, looking intently into the eyes of the four medicine men.

“It is respectful of you to ask, Buffalo Soldier,” replies Atsidi. “That means we can talk as equals, as friends.”

Shiye Tapahonso speaks up for the first time, “We would not tell you how to do your duty, but we wish you to carry back a message to the tribal police. A man cannot chase two rabbits and hope to catch either one of them. We believe that the police are chasing the wrong rabbit. Maybe someone should ask who really stands to gain from the deaths of these people. Many things go on here. We are starting into the time of elections, and that is always a dark time on the reservation. There are those who want to have influence over the people on the council and will go to great lengths to get that influence. There are people who would change the school system to make our Navajo children into white people. That happened in a terrible time not so long ago when our boys and girls were bused away to white people’s boarding schools. Other members of our tribe want to change the schools so that our children learn our language and our ways and not lose our culture. Some want power so they can make money—like the mine people and the oil company owners. It is not wrong to investigate somebody like the man on the pale horse, but maybe somebody should look in other directions to find the right rabbit. That is all we have to say.”

“Any ideas of who might be the rabbit that we should chase?” Ivory asks.

“Maybe even non-Indians. We hear from the wind that the Window Rock people from Washington don’t want to think of these murders as being connected. They don’t want you to think of a conspiracy. That would be what we want—no 1491ers conspiracy, but why do they want that? Who gets money? When white people invade Diné Bikéyah [Navajoland], we always think that it is about money—oil drillers, hard rock miners, traders, and the like. What kind of things are at issue in this election? Who would benefit from us 1491ers being falsely accused?” asks Toh Yah.

The following morning, the Navajo Department of Criminal Investigations police officers—including Police Chief Ney and Captain Hootsohnii—and McGee and his partners, meet in the Blue Mesa police headquarters in the Painted Desert to discuss what they have learned thus far. McGee, Caitlin O’Brian, and Ivory White tell much the same story from their interviews with the 1491ers—no one thinks there is enough evidence that the murders were committed by radical back-to-the-good-old-days activists to make a case against them yet. Lt. Begay and Dodge give the same story, but consider the probability that everyone they have interviewed has a self-seeking agenda. Still, it is difficult to believe there is a conspiracy of the size that would have to exist to sustain the lies. Certainly not every Indian on the reservation condones wanton murder of their own people, even if they have policy disagreements. Nobody knows what to make of the antiquarian warrior on the pale horse. Nor is there is a person in the room who believes that each of the murders is separate from the others. Another point of agreement is that they might be receiving misinformation to frame the 1491ers to deflect investigation away from somebody else or some other group. McGee makes an oblique suggestion that they probably should start looking into other motives … like money.

Naalnish and McGee note that neither Chief Ney nor Captain Hootsohnii has a lot to say in the gathering. Naalnish knows that the Navajo Nation Police are funded by federal contracts and grants and general Navajo Nation funds, and the chief has to toe the federal and tribal line. He also has to report to Window Rock.

“Let’s just continue what we’re doing,” Naalnish says once all of the reports are given. “We can meet again in a week.”

Chief Ney thanks everyone for their help and once again cautions that each of the murders is to be investigated separately. He leaves the meeting room before the rest.

“Wait up a bit,” Lt. Begay says. “I have an idea or two we should investigate.”

“I was afraid we were going to be stuck in a rut looking only at the 1491ers,” McGee says.

“I have to confess two things: first, I have been disobeying orders from Window Rock by even investigating the 1491ers; and second, I have had my head in the sand not looking at other possibilities.”

“What do you want us to do, now, boss?” Dodge asks.

“You talk to the people on the Save the Minds of the Navajo Children NGO and get a better handle on who is actually behind the intimidation. I also want you to look into everything you can find out from the res people about all of the candidates for office in the upcoming tribal council and presidency elections. What do those people want? What are their platforms? Who funds their campaigns? What are those campaign contributors after with the influence they are buying?

“Caitlin, I understand that you are a great computer analyst and very intuitive. I want you to set out on a very secret quest. Look into all of the records for Leland Biakeddy and his supporters, Assistant U.S. Attorney Douglas Stone, and all of the members of the tribal council in Window Rock. Let’s see if they have any association with the oil people. The oil companies have been trying for years to get a better toehold on the reservation; so, they can tear up Navajoland to get at the oil they are sure is just hidden underneath the red sands. We need their financials. Do Biakeddy or Stone have secret accounts—Switzerland, Cayman Islands, or anything like that? And, this is the biggest secret of all. Get the same info on the chief and Captain Hootsohnii. Something’s rotten on the res, and I want to know who and what.”

“Ivory, please take it as your job to find out who this rider on a pale horse is. I don’t know that he is the murderer, but he certainly has something to do with the killings. I would give my left thumb to be able to have a serious chat with the guy.

“McGee, I know that you are the best interrogator around. How about you and I go back and find out if somebody in the Yazzie, Biakeddy, or Kieyoomia families knows anything about financial shenanigans or attempts at undue influence by outsiders. With Caitlin’s help, you and I are going to look into the financials for the members of the tribal council. Once we have something, we will make a trip to Window Rock to interview the council members in person. That will be tough. I might get fired just for suggesting such a course of action. You are an outsider, and there’s not much they can do to you.”

“Except murder,” McGee says. “Look, if we get that far, I think it would be a good idea to bring along a feeb. This is looking federal, and I know the SAC in Phoenix. Our firm did a little off-the-books work for him in a touchy police corruption case a couple of years ago. He said he owes me a favor. Maybe this is the time to collect on my marker.”

“One thing at a time, McGee, but that sounds like where we’re headed,” says Naalnish.