Chapter 18

 

 

The schoolhouse had a new bright blue metal roof, a corral constructed of saplings, six outhouses, three on each side of the building, a maintenance barn, a flag pole sans flag, and a wall of freshly washed windows. In fact, as they got closer, Ben could see that the person wielding the hose and a long-handled scrub brush was Miss Otter. Ben followed Oscar and pulled in next to the maintenance barn as the teacher opened the storage unit’s double doors.

“I know you’re going to think window-washing is a terrible waste of water, but it’s only done once a year. Just a part of the welcome back. We were lucky to get a new roof earlier in the summer before all the travel restrictions.”

“Any idea of when you’ll be back in business?” Oscar handed the teacher a clipboard with some papers to sign.

“Oh, I wish I knew. Tentatively we’re hoping September 1—less than two weeks away—and we all know a lot can happen in that time frame.”

“You still got that fifty-five-gallon barrel on the side porch?” Oscar was pulling hoses off his truck.

“Yes, that’s drinking water for the month. That and a hundred cases of bottled water that were donated by the First Episcopal Church in Albuquerque. The donations of water and toilet paper are going to help us meet the suggested opening date.”

“I saw the stack of toilet paper. Aren’t you worried someone might break in and take it? It’s better than legal tender now.” Ben laughed, but strangely enough, he was actually telling the truth. He’d read where someone had been shot wrestling a carton of the stuff off a delivery truck in Espanola earlier in the month.

“There are some good things to be said about isolation. I honestly don’t think the school has ever been broken into or even vandalized. We’re too far out to even have an outhouse tipped over.” She laughed. “Come with me. I’ll show you my second home.”

Ben turned to Oscar. “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing here—I got it covered. Go see where that son of yours is going to do some learning.”

Ben turned to Miss Otter. “I’ll get the medical supplies out of my truck. Do you want them inside or in the barn?”

“I’ll store the wipes and masks and sanitizer in the classroom. Let me help you.”

Walking back to the truck meant walking around an open field that appeared to be the playground. Swings, a see-saw, and a slide sat next to a homemade round-about. At the other end of the field were two basketball stands—one missing a hoop and the other had a hoop but no net.

“Before I forget, I’d like to offer my help in providing some physical education—maybe workshops after school. I noticed two basketball hoops—at least the stands are there. I’d like to contribute an upgrade—new nets, two new backboards and balls if you need them. Plus, I’d like to add soccer equipment. There’s room to mark out a decent-sized playing field. Do you think there’d be any interest?”

“Oh, Dr. Pecos, you have no idea--the kids would be thrilled. I don’t know how to thank you. There’s a lot to be learned from competitive sports. Things that can’t be taught in the classroom.”

“I’ll order equipment in the morning, but I’ll need an address off the Rez in order to get it delivered.”

“You can send it to me in Shiprock. I’ll give you my address before you leave today. Believe me, anything will be so appreciated, and I love the idea of after school PE. Your son’s name is Zac, isn’t it? Chief Billie mentioned that Nathan Yazzie is living with the two of you now. I’m so glad he’s found a home. His life hasn’t been easy and he’s such a good student with a lot to offer.”

“The boys have bonded. I couldn’t ask for a better situation. I was worried about my working all day and having to leave Zac on his own.”

“Well, here we are.” She held open the back door and pointed to a corner in what was a kitchen. At least a stove, a disconnected fridge, and several cabinets qualified it as such.

“Now, come with me.”

The kitchen opened onto one huge room—not divided into smaller sections by walls or partitions. The only divisions or boundaries that might indicate different grades were marked by small tables and chairs in one corner and actual flip-top desk/chair units in other corners. Only the two differing sizes marked a difference in ages of the learners.

“I’m sure this wasn’t what you were expecting. But here it is—an old fashioned, one-room school house, which isn’t a bad thing. Remember, there’s only one of me and I have students ranging in age from six to twelve. This year I’ll welcome six new first graders, a combined class of ten second and third graders, nine fourth, fifth and sixth graders and another five seventh and eighth graders. Oh my, I honestly didn’t realize the total was thirty students in all, and I wasn’t counting Zac. I usually don’t have so many beginners—that’s upped the tally for this year. But I can call on help from nearby families. I often have a volunteer mother or two when I need them.”

“Seems challenging.” Ben noted the walls covered with blackboards and low shelves holding a globe, stacks of construction paper, boxes of scissors, and jars of paste, next to a collection of watercolor trays. Taller shelving held books, a reference series and rows of texts.

“It does look like something out of the last century, doesn’t it? I was supposed to have delivery of forty tablets, iPads, before school started. The pandemic slowed that down. But we are getting Wi-Fi. I’ve seen the work on the tower. That will make all the difference in preparedness. From here most students continue to high school in Gallup or Shiprock. It’s tough to catch up when they haven’t been exposed to electronics.”

“Finished. What can we help you with in here?” Oscar offered each of them a bottle of water. “They’re cold, straight from the cooler in the truck.”

“If you had the time, could you help me arrange the chairs six feet apart?”

“Sure. You tell me how you’d like them placed.”

“I drew this diagram.” Miss Otter went to the desk at the front of the room. “I think this would work.”

Ben and Oscar moved tables and chairs, dividing sections by dragging shelves to act as borders. An hour later they were finished and satisfied that the classroom would meet any virus requirements for distancing.

“I can’t thank you enough. This would have been a full day’s work for me by myself.” And then as Ben was going out the back door, she handed him a slip of paper with her address and put a hand on his sleeve, “I don’t want to alarm you, but be aware of what goes on around Nathan, protect him. There are rumors about his uncle. Nathan has so much promise, I want to see him fulfill that promise.”

Ben immediately thought of the hoof prints in the ghost dust. Had that been a message for Nathan?

 

* * *

 

By the end of the day, all water had been delivered and Ben was tired. He hated to admit it, but it was more work that he’d done in a while. They serviced eighteen houses, topping up tanks or filling them from scratch. All the residences were within a fifty-mile radius of the hospital.

Ben was careful to keep his mask on and in interviewing families, he found four people who had been exposed to the virus through their jobs outside the reservation. Testing. There was a need and it wasn’t being met. He took the individuals’ names and would submit them to the traveling nurses who tried to check outlying areas on a bi-weekly basis. But everything had a too-little, too-late feel to it. This was such a ‘sitting duck’ population—isolated, spread out over miles, scanty health care, many older members of the tribe already struggling with diabetes, dementia, alcoholism. Once again, Ben applauded the Navajo Nation president’s quick action in shutting down the roads in and out. Keeping outsiders from coming in was literally life-saving.

 

* * *

 

Ben didn’t get back to the trailer until after six. A long day. He was already planning what he would order in the way of PE equipment for Miss Otter’s school. But first, he had a couple hungry boys to feed. It would be the easiest to just go to the Two Sisters café but when he went by, there was a line outside waiting to be served, which would put their meal another hour in waiting. No, Ben thought he could come up with something from their kitchen.

“Mac and cheese?” Ben got an immediate and enthusiastic “yes” from both boys. “And it’s not going to make a difference if there’s a side dish of broccoli?”

“Ahh, I don’t want broccoli.” Zac literally scrunched up his nose.

“No broccoli, no mac.” Ben knew that wasn’t going to get him any popularity points. “But the broccoli is going to have cheese sauce.”

“Okay.”

“Nathan, how about you? Are you okay with broccoli?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Then I’ll get things started if you two will set the table.”

“Can we go to the movie tonight?” Zac asked.

“Where’s a movie?”

“Here, in the parking lot. They’ve put up a big screen and you can sit in your car or bring a chair.” Zac added, “I think it’s a Disney.”

“Sounds good. I’ll turn the truck around so you guys can sit on the tailgate.”

By eight-thirty the trailer was quiet. By nine Ben had finished his order to Amazon for playground equipment. He could hear the movie in the background, muffled other than a chorus of honking horns every once in a while. Must be a comedy with the occasional audience participation—horn honking approval instead of laughter. Adaptation was everything nowadays.

It was too early to go to bed but a walk sounded good. Maybe even catch a little of the movie. Desert air was always invigorating in the evening. He couldn’t believe the contrast, living in Florida where the difference between day and night temps might be a whole ten or twelve degrees. Twenty or thirty degrees was much more like it here—and no humidity. Would he ever get back to New Mexico? He wondered. No matter where he lived, it would always be home. Before he left the house, he cut an apple into slices and tucked them into a zip-lock bag. He had a feeling that there were two horses who might enjoy a treat.

He took the path that wound around the office, finally dead-ending at the corral. He was almost squarely in front of Trini’s office window when movement caught his eye. Ben stepped back into the shadows of the building but kept an eye on the window. And there it was again. Decidedly human, not a bear, anyway. But wouldn’t a human pull the blinds? The figure was standing, moving first right, pause, and then left, pause, which didn’t make sense. But wait, maybe it did. The figure was moving from one file cabinet to the other.

Trini? No, much too tall for her. This was someone who most likely had broken in. But before Ben could even think about what to do, a figure clad all in black including a hood rushed from the trailer, cleared the back steps in a leap before taking off for the stables. Ben sprinted after the person but was stopped by a blood-curdling scream and the sound of splintering wood.

Ben knew exactly what had happened. Apache had lived up to his red ribbon and stomped the shit out of someone.

“That son-of-a-bitch needs to be shot.”

“Wrong call, J.C. It’s a horse, not a dog.” Ben was pretty sure his attempt at a joke was lost. The man was obviously in pain, clutching his arm close to his body. “Maybe the question should be why were you in Trini’s office?”

“My arm’s fucking broken.”

“I don’t think that’s answering the question. I think there’s proof of breaking and entering.”

“Oh yeah, prove it.”

“My word places you in the office.”

“The door was unlocked and a light was on. I was just being a good citizen. We can’t afford to waste power out here. I walked in to turn the light off.”

“Sure. That’s believable.” It sounded too sarcastic but Ben didn’t care.

“Hey, search me.“ J.C. started to hold his arms out, then grimaced and clutched his left arm to his chest. “I need to see a doctor.”

“Guess you’ve come to the right place. I’ll walk you over to triage.”

The nurse on duty pronounced the arm badly bruised with the possibility of a sprained wrist. A soft cast of taped together tongue depressors and a tightly wound gauze wrapping would immobilize it. That and a sling and J.C. was ready to go.

“Better report this to the cop-man. Maybe he’ll make you a deputy seeing as how you’re so good at sneaking around and accusing the innocent.” A derisive snort and J.C. walked out the door. Ben let him go. Yes, he’d tell the chief and check with Trini to make certain nothing had been taken from her files. But there was no reason to detain him even if he could. He watched J.C. walk to the road. Ben would bet that the Camaro was parked just out of sight. He texted a brief message to Chief Billie, from shrinkwrap, before sitting down on the front steps of the office to watch the last of the movie.