Leigh Ann arrived at the trading post early and used her keys to enter through the back door next to the loading dock. It was Saturday and Jo would be gone all day; she usually spent Saturdays with Rudy Brownhat, studying to become a medicine woman.
Leigh Ann flipped on the storeroom lights before crossing through the back offices and into the front room. The first thing that caught her eye was Melvin Littlewater’s newest sculpture. She smiled at the sight of the mountain lion, depicted in midstride. That elusive, almost mesmeric lifelike quality had become his signature style and drew the gaze of anyone nearby. Jo had purchased the piece and kept it on view as a sample of Melvin’s work, believing that it would lead to more commissions for him. The Outpost collected a fee every time they set up a deal for the sculptor, and even though the lion had only been on display for a short time, Jo had told Leigh Ann that buying it had been a good business decision. Leigh Ann knew, though, that Jo wouldn’t have bought it if she hadn’t loved it.
Her Saturday routine always began the same way, with checking the coolers to make sure everything was working, then walking down aisles verifying that shelves and merchandise in the main room were free of dust and attractively arranged. A year ago she’d run the cash register, now she was manager. The promotion hadn’t come with much of a raise, but it had given her ego a much-needed boost.
Her life had unraveled after Kurt’s death. Finding a video that had graphically revealed one of her husband’s affairs had nearly destroyed her. Though a cheating husband was nothing new, she’d never seen it coming. After that, she’d questioned everything about herself, from her taste in men to her sex appeal.
Hurt, she’d avoided the opposite sex … until she met Melvin. Though blind, he could always tell when she was near. Every time he came to The Outpost, he made a point of coming over to talk to her. He made her feel special, a woman who had something more to offer than a nice rack, long legs, and a tight butt.
He was a complex man, and lately he’d become moody, reverting back to something she’d noted a year ago when they’d first met. Melvin was not only a talented artist, he was also very proud. He disliked anyone showing what he considered “excessive” sympathy.
Hearing footsteps behind her on the tile floor, she jumped and spun around. “You scared me half to death, Regina!” she said when she saw the woman at the other end of the short hallway.
At five-foot-seven, Regina Yazzie and Leigh Ann were almost the same height, but that’s where the similarities ended. Regina’s ebony hair was long and flowed freely down to her waist when it wasn’t in a single braid.
Leigh Ann still retained her Texas high school cheerleader “big hair,” teased, full, and mostly blond. Hair spray was her friend and she bought it at Costco in bulk. Today, instead of jeans and the turquoise polo, she had on a denim skirt just above the knees and a sleeveless white blouse. An Outpost name tag identified her as staff.
Regina had that natural look, with rich skin tones and a hint of copper lipstick. Today the young Navajo woman was wearing dark slacks and the polo with the trading post’s name over the left pocket. They all had matching shirts that they could wear whenever they pleased. The simple silver cross Regina always wore around her neck shimmered against her turquoise top.
“Sorry, Leigh Ann, I didn’t mean to startle you. I came in early hoping to catch you before the others got here.”
“Is something wrong?” Leigh Ann had learned about Regina’s marital problems a while back, accidentally overhearing her talking to her estranged husband on the phone. Regina had thrown him out when he threatened physical abuse.
Regina sat down on one of the stools, picked up a foam coffee cup from the stack beside the percolator, and added a packet of sugar. “It’s Esther,” she said, referring to Esther Allison, the trading post’s senior employee. “Her husband’s Alzheimer’s is getting worse. Last night Truman walked out the back door and she had to call the police to help find him.”
“Is he okay?” Leigh Ann asked quickly.
She nodded. “Reverend Moore and his wife went over to help. They’re both fine now, but taking care of Truman is wearing Esther down. If she seems a little distracted at work, that’s why.”
Leigh Ann nodded slowly. “That explains why she hasn’t changed the display lately.” Part of Esther’s job was to make sample garments using fabrics the trading post sold. Once people saw the finished products, they were more inclined to buy the patterns and the materials necessary to duplicate them.
“I’m guessing she hasn’t had time to get anything ready for a while,” Regina said.
“I’ll mention it to Jo on Monday. Nobody here has given Esther a hard time about that, have they?”
“No, but I thought it best if you knew,” Regina answered.
“Thanks,” Leigh Ann said. “From what I hear, you’ve got a heavy load yourself these days, working here during the day and teaching Navajo at the community college at night. Three classes a week, is that right?”
She nodded. “I love it. Now that we’re living with Mom and she’s helping take care of Shawna, I don’t have to worry. A two-year-old is a lot of work, but Mom adores her. The best part of all is that I finally get to use my teaching certificate. When Pete was around, he wanted me at home. Since I never liked leaving the baby with a sitter, I thought it was all for the best.”
Leigh Ann looked up at the clock. “We’ve got a half hour before we open for business. Let’s use that time to clear some more space up front. I need to set up a larger display area for Melvin Littlewater. He’s bringing us another new sculpture this morning. His uncle John is giving him a ride.”
Regina smiled. “He really likes you.”
“Melvin’s uncle?” Leigh Ann asked, teasing.
“No, Melvin!” Regina said, laughing. “I don’t know exactly how he does it, but Melvin always seems to know where you are. He’ll walk in, stand at the front for a moment, and turn right to you.”
“He’s not totally blind, you know. Under bright lights and during the daytime he can tell where someone is if they’re not too far away. As for knowing it’s me, it must be my perfume,” Leigh Ann said, pride preventing her from admitting it was most likely the layer of hair spray.
Regina sniffed the air.
“It’s a pretty subtle floral, but he has no problem picking it out, even in a crowded room.”
Regina, who was a kind woman, smiled and nodded.
They cleared off a large display table, covered it with one of their colorful Navajo rugs and some locally crafted pottery, then placed Melvin’s mountain lion in the center. “We’ll remove some of the pottery to make room for the new piece.”
Regina repositioned a hand-lettered sign with Melvin’s name on it. “Have you spoken to him recently?”
Leigh Ann looked at her curiously. “No, I haven’t, not since he told me he’d be bringing in something new today. That was a little over two weeks ago, and we didn’t talk very long. He was kind of grumpy.”
“Maybe it’s because he hasn’t visited the art classes at the elementary school in a while. I know the kids probably miss him.”
Leigh Ann took a deep breath, suspecting his moodiness was the culprit. “He might be in the middle of some project. I know he loves the kids. To them, he’s not a blind sculptor, he’s just a guy who makes cool things out of clay.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard, too.”
Leigh Ann was silent for a while, mulling things over. “You know, I used to think that Melvin withdrew from everyone and focused on sculpting to get over bouts of depression, but if there’s a plus side to that, I suspect that’s when he’s most creative. Or maybe it’s the need to immerse himself in his work that makes him withdraw. It’s his way of focusing solely on what he’s trying to create.”
Regina considered it. “I don’t know Melvin that well, but my cousin knew him before his accident. She sometimes gives Melvin a ride when John’s not around. She’s also the one who told me about Melvin’s past. He was a nature photographer who loved his work. He traveled all over the country, photographing wildlife for national magazines. Then he lost his sight—and his profession,” she said. “Of course he’s moved on and become a successful sculptor, but she’s convinced that there’s something else still eating at him.”
Leigh Ann said nothing. She’d sensed that on occasion, too, but Melvin was very private, even with friends.
* * *
When they finally opened for business, there were people already waiting on the big, covered front porch, ready to shop. The business had been in a slump for months, but Saturday was usually always one of the busiest days at The Outpost.
The morning was even more hectic than usual, but Leigh Ann loved it when the place was like this. Time went by so fast, which made waiting easier, too. Although she was looking forward to seeing Melvin, she also knew there was no guarantee he’d actually show up. He came when his sculptures were ready, and that wasn’t always predictable.
As hard as she tried not to dwell on it, every time the cowbell over the door rang, she’d glance up, hoping it would be him. It was close to eleven when Melvin finally arrived. He held the door open for his uncle, John Littlewater, a barrel-chested, slightly bowlegged man in his mid-fifties who was carrying a large wooden box.
“It’s good to see you today, John, Melvin,” she said, a special warmth stealing over her as she realized that Melvin had turned toward her even before she’d spoken. If it was just the hair spray, more power to it, she thought, smiling widely.
Melvin was a few inches taller than she was, with strong, broad shoulders and muscular arms. She’d never seen him without his shirt on, but she had a feeling he’d be easy on the eyes.
Taking Melvin’s arm, she guided him to the display counter she and Regina had set up, John following close behind. “You know, Melvin, I have a feeling that you’d be able to walk around the trading post by yourself if you wanted to. You just like having me hold on to you,” she teased.
“Busted,” he said, smiling.
“So what did you bring us today?” she said, her voice rising slightly with excitement. “I can’t wait to see it,” she added, looking back at John.
“I think it’s his best work yet,” John said, carefully lowering the box to the floor. Leigh Ann quickly removed some of the pottery from the table, making space for the new piece while John opened the crate. He set the sculpture, shrouded in bubble wrap, on the table and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a bear. Standing on its hind legs, the work was finished in a satin black luster. Every detail had been crafted with care, from its paws and claws to the ghost of a growl Leigh Ann was sure she could hear coming from its muzzle.
“Wow,” she said at last.
“Wait until you see the other one,” John said.
“Two of them? That’s great!” she said, tempted to clap but instead moving quickly to get the rest of the pottery out of the way.
The second sculpture was a stallion, also black but with less sheen, its head arched proudly, tail high. There was something in the cast of its eyes, an expression that was hard to define but immediately captured her attention. Sightless, they still appeared to see far into the distance.
“What an incredible piece,” she said in a hushed tone.
“Do you like it more than the bear?” Melvin asked.
Leigh Ann considered it. “They’re both amazing and very different, but this horse…”
“I knew it. Women and horses,” he said with a grin. “There’s a special connection there.”
Leigh Ann sighed. “Maybe so.”
“You’ll sell both of them on consignment then, usual terms?” John asked.
“Yes, of course. We’ll showcase and sell as many pieces as Melvin wants to bring us. His work is very popular with our customers.”
Leigh Ann waved Regina over; the younger woman would position the signs for the works and relocate the pottery to other display areas.
“I wish you’d let me give you one of my sculptures as a gift, Leigh Ann,” Melvin said. “The change in your voice when you see one of my pieces … It encourages me.”
“I can’t accept something like that, Melvin. It’s your livelihood. It’s right that you should get paid for your work.”
John cleared his throat, getting their attention again. “So are we ready to go, nephew?” John asked Melvin. “We’ve got a lot of errands to run today.”
“Leigh Ann, would you give me a ride home after John and I finish our errands? We should be done around five. John could drop me off here and meet his friends at the Totah Café instead of having to drive me back,” he said, then quickly added, “Unless you’ve got plans, of course.”
“It’s Saturday, so we won’t close until six. You might have to wait for me,” she said. “That okay with you?”
“You bet. I’ve put in long hours on these sculptures, so I’ve got a bad case of cabin fever.”
A curious undertone in his voice caught her attention, but she didn’t have time to pursue it as customers were approaching the register. “We’ll talk later. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? I’m a pretty good cook, if I say so myself.”
“I’d like that.”
Leigh Ann watched him leave. Though he often touched the shelves along the way to orient himself, his strides as he crossed the room were surprisingly sure, despite the fact that he usually chose not to carry a cane. Wishing they’d had more time to visit, she hurried over to the cash register, smiled at the first person on line, and focused on her work. There’d be time to catch up later.
After a while Regina came up. “Esther’s still not here. Should I call?”
Leigh Ann shook her head. “Wait another fifteen minutes.”
As she spoke, Esther hurried in through the front entrance. She was thin and wiry, but strong in every way. “I’m sorry I’m late, Leigh Ann. I had some trouble getting Truman settled before I left.”
Leigh Ann could tell from the strain in her eyes that Esther hadn’t been sleeping. “Do you need time off?”
The older woman shook her head, then looked away, a clear sign that she didn’t want to talk about it. “I need to get busy. I have to change the display before I leave today.”
“If you need a hand, holler.”
As a customer stopped to take a closer look at Melvin’s sculptures, Leigh Ann smiled. She had a feeling the horse and bear would sell within a few days. Even as the thought formed, the woman picked up the bear and brought it to the cash register.
“I’ve been looking for a birthday gift for my husband, and this is perfect. You take credit cards, right?”
Leigh Ann rang up the purchase, glad Melvin was coming for dinner. She’d fix him something special to celebrate. This sale was practically a land speed record.
As she wrapped the bear and placed it in a box, surrounded by tissue and bubble wrap, she wished she had the money to buy the horse sculpture. A piece of Melvin’s heart went into each of his pieces, and that alone would have made it priceless to her.
She sighed. Some things were just meant to stay out of her reach.
* * *
Josephine Buck sat on a sheepskin rug on the earthen floor inside the ceremonial hogan. Rudy Brownhat was in a quiet mood today. In his role as teacher, Rudy sat at the rear of the hogan, behind the centrally placed fire pit, which was not in use on this warm day. Jo sat at the north end, facing him.
“She died a few days after the Sing. Went to the hospital with chest pains, I was told,” Rudy said.
“She only came to us for a short pollen blessing. We did as she asked,” Jo said, recalling the young woman who’d come to them a few weeks ago.
“There are those who feel that we somehow gave her false assurances.”
“But that’s not true,” she said. “She had no symptoms and asked for no treatment other than the blessing.”
He nodded and sipped tea from his sturdy white mug, which was stained from use. “Her family knows that and understands. I spoke with them after she passed.”
“Then what’s bothering you, uncle?” she asked, using the title out of respect, not kinship.
“The man she was going to marry, he’s a bilisaana, red on the outside, white on the inside. He doesn’t respect our ways anymore. I realize he’s been grieving for days now, but what happened concerns me,” Rudy said in a heavy voice. “He came by angry yesterday and upset my wife.”
“Did he threaten her or you?” she asked quickly.
He shook his head. “I returned from a Sing I’d done over in Waterflow and found the man waiting for me. He’d just learned of her visit here and demanded to know why I hadn’t sent his fiancée to the hospital immediately,” he said. “I explained that she hadn’t been ill when she came to us. She’d been looking forward to her wedding and only asked for a pollen blessing.”
“He believed you, didn’t he?”
“I’m not sure. He was still very upset when he left. Grief … it changes people, and that much pain can twist a man’s inner form.… I just wanted you to know in case he visits you.” He took a long, slow sip of his tea. “It’s time to begin your lesson. Have you memorized the Hogan Song that begins the night portion of the Blessingway?”
She took a deep breath. “I’ve tried, but it’s long.” A Blessingway Sing, which took several days, began with the Hogan Song and ended with the Dawn Songs.
“The Blessingway must be done perfectly. Through it, we bring our gods the gift of order.”
Jo knew the risks. The slightest mistake in a prayer, however long, could bring about tragedy or disaster.
“Intent and the spoken word bring about completion, which gives us harmony. Think on that and begin.”
Concentrating, hoping she’d be able to finish without mistakes, she beat on the overturned basket, using it as a drum. The monotone chant was invigorating and she felt its power coursing through her.
After several minutes, aware that her teacher hadn’t commented and hoping it meant he was pleased, she looked over at him.
Rudy was blinking hard and clutching his chest.
Jo immediately stopped. “Uncle, what’s wrong?”
Rudy pointed to his cup but his breathing was so rapid, he couldn’t form words.
Jo dropped the basket and reached for her phone, dialing 911 as she walked to the Hogan door. “Victoria!” she yelled, calling for Rudy’s wife.
She turned back toward the hataalii as the dispatcher came on the line.
A minute later, she ended the call. “Help is on its way,” she told him. She’d asked for an ambulance and given their location, yet even as she spoke, she could see that he was getting worse.
Her teacher began brushing aside something only he could see. “S-s-su!” he yelled.
The word was roughly the equivalent of “scat” but she could see nothing near him, not even a fly or bee. Jo tried to calm him, but Rudy lashed out, pushing her away.
A second later Victoria Brownhat rushed into the hogan.
Seeing her husband thrashing on the floor, Victoria pressed a hand to her bosom. “What’s happening to him?” She tried to go to her husband, but Jo held her back.
“No, give him room. He can’t hurt himself where he is now, but he could hurt you without meaning to. He’s having some kind of seizure.”
“Why? What’s causing this?”
“An allergic reaction, or maybe poison. The tea…” Jo looked down at the mug her teacher had dropped.
“Don’t let him die!”
“Help will be here in just a few minutes,” Jo assured her.
Fortunately, the Brownhats lived on the outskirts of Shiprock so the regional medical center was just minutes away. Hearing the sound of sirens, Jo went to the door of the hogan, watching for the EMTs. “Here they come.”
Victoria nodded, her arms wrapped around herself in a hug. “First let the Anglo doctors help, and then do a Lifeway Sing.”
Jo nodded. That was the way it was these days. The emergency room came first, then it was time for traditional medicine from a hataalii.
As the EMTs raced up the dirt road, Jo dialed the tribal police. Something told her they’d be needed, too.
* * *
The rest of Saturday went by quickly at The Outpost. Not long after Melvin’s bear sculpture had sold, another customer expressed interest in the horse, promising to come back on Monday. Leigh Ann smiled, looking forward to giving Melvin the good news.
It was approaching six when she went to check on Del, the high school senior who worked for them during the afternoons and all day Saturday. The young man had kept to himself today, stocking the shelves and organizing the storeroom.
Leigh Ann walked into the storeroom and found him cleaning out the big double sink. “It looks great in here. Good job,” she said. “About done?”
“Everything is shelved or on pallets, and I’ve just finished mopping the floor. I guess I better move fast and sweep the front. It’s past closing time,” Del said, glancing at the clock above the door.
Leigh Ann looked over and drew in a breath. It was five minutes past, actually, time to lock up if there were no more customers inside.
The afternoon had gone by in a blur. Melvin, who’d called earlier to say he’d be delayed—they’d had a flat—would be arriving soon and she still had to prove out the cash registers.
“It’s later than I thought, too,” she said.
Esther was still at the sewing machine, working.
“Esther, it’s time to call it a day,” she said.
“You’ve got one more customer,” Esther replied, and gestured by pointing her lips, Navajo style.
Leigh Ann hurried to the cash register, where the Anglo businesswoman she’d spoken to earlier about the horse sculpture was waiting. The lady explained that she had decided not to wait to make the purchase, afraid someone else would get it first. Leigh Ann smiled. More good news to share with Melvin.
Once the sculpture had been carefully packed up, Leigh Ann escorted the customer out, holding the door open for her and wishing her a good evening. Then she closed and locked the door and hung up the closed sign. Turning back to the room, she saw Regina helping Esther add a new, obviously handmade western shirt to the clothing display. “That looks great!”
“It’s still pinned in spots, but it will look fine to customers,” Esther said. “I’ll take some material home and finish another top tomorrow afternoon.”
“You don’t have to do that, tomorrow’s Sunday,” Leigh Ann reminded her.
“I need something to help me unwind,” Esther said. “Days … are long at home—even the Lord’s day.”
As Esther walked into the back to punch her time card and collect her purse, Regina remained behind with Leigh Ann. “Del’s already gone, and I’ve got to clock out, too. Mom’s got a part-time job as a waitress at the Palomino Café in Kirtland so she has to get ready for her shift.”
“Go. I’m waiting for Melvin, so I’ll be here a little longer,” Leigh Ann said, recalling her own six-month stint as a waitress at the Bullfrog Tavern, just off the Navajo Nation.
A café without a liquor license was probably a better gig than a bar, though she didn’t know what was worse, an amorous drunk or a bawling child whose parents were oblivious.
Regina’s mom could probably handle it. Leigh Ann had met the woman, and she didn’t take crap from man or beast. The thought made her smile.
As soon as the others left, Leigh Ann turned down the lights, made sure the registers balanced, then put all the cash into the safe in Jo’s office. She was just finishing when she heard a knock at the front entrance.
Leigh Ann stepped into the doorway of the office and looked down the main aisle, spotting the familiar pickup parked in the lot. Grabbing her purse, she flipped off the light and walked out the door, keys in hand.
“Hi, guys!”
John gave her a nod. “You’re all set, nephew,” he told Melvin, who was standing on the gravel beside the passenger side door. “I’ll be going now.”
“See you later, John,” Leigh Ann said.
“You ready to go?” Melvin asked, stepping forward, feeling his way over the concrete parking barrier.
“Yep. Let me lock up, then we’ll be on our way,” she said. “On the way home I’m going to make a quick stop, okay? I want to pick up some sparkling apple cider. It’ll help us turn dinner into a celebration. I’ve got some good news for you!”