Chapter 26

 

 

“Julie, I’m so glad to be meeting you finally. I feel I should know you. I look at your picture on Dr. Pecos’s desk every day.” Trini handed out bottles of cold water. “And wait ‘til you see what I found.” She dragged two cardboard cartons from behind her desk. “We finally got a partial shipment of the PPE we had ordered weeks ago, and mixed up in the medical supplies were these two boxes of household items. How ‘bout some really screaming loud colored sheets? I think the fuchsia flowers are supposed to be daisies. And here, check out this cookware—it’s all Rachel Ray stuff--not bad if you like lime green enamel on copper. I’m sure it’s better than the hospital issue I loaned you. It’s all brand new. When you no longer need it, I’ll be able to find a home for it all here, I’m sure.”

Ben stepped around Trini’s desk and picked up the package of sheets. “Where did you say this came from?” The household items not only looked familiar, he’d seen them before—the exact same ones. They’d been a part of the shipment stolen from the U-Haul in Albuquerque—the shipment he was supposed to have brought to the reservation.

“AMSA—American Medical Supply Association. It’s some new group that Dr. Henry suggested. We’ve been bombarded with companies wanting to sell to us. Several are foreign—including some from China and one from Taiwan. AMSA is out of California, I think. With the US government picking up the tab, we have to go with the lowest bidder, but they’re all expensive. I had to have a check cut for over two-hundred thousand dollars for what was delivered yesterday. And then we only got a portion of what was originally ordered.”

Interesting. Had the cargo been paid for twice? It would seem that way. First, when the order was put together and secondly, when it was delivered to camp. Not a bad grift and worth some big money.

Ben didn’t believe in coincidence. The fact that it ended up back here would seem to point a finger at someone from the camp being involved. It was still a mystery how anyone knew what he had in the U-Haul. This might be information that he best kept to himself.

“Thanks for thinking of us. These are certainly brighter than hospital linens.”

Julie added, “I rather like them.”

Trini laughed. “Thanks for making me think I did the right thing by swiping them for you. And before I forget, the meeting tomorrow afternoon is set for four, here in the office.”

 

* * *

 

Julie’s test was negative which was a sigh of relief. Oscar and three helpers had moved the couch and two side tables from the office waiting room into a back room and set up ten folding chairs—more or less in a circle—adhering to the six-foot distancing rule by staggering the line whenever possible. The meeting got started a little late due to the Navajo Nation’s president requesting a tour of the hospital tents. Finally, everyone was present. In all, ten people plus Julie helped themselves to apple empanadas and cold drinks before the discussion started. Trini sat in the doorway to her office with notepad and pen.

Dr. Henry cleared his throat. “Some of you know each other, others are strangers to this group. We’ll take time for introductions later. President Nez’s time is limited and I’m going to let him go first—catch us up to date and give us some much-needed background information on just where we are now. And where we need to be. President Nez.”

“Thank you, Dr. Henry. Let me start by thanking all of you for taking this time to meet. Especially Dr. Black from Indian Health Services in Albuquerque, who traveled the longest distance to share his expertise. I will be sharing some facts about the way we live on the reservation for those of you new to our culture—the nurses and technicians who have volunteered to help us.

“I want to start by putting the pandemic, as it has ravaged the reservation, into perspective and why that has made this meeting a top priority. Our current infection rate is 3.4%. By way of comparison, New York state has a rate today of 1.9%. We’ve made strides to control the virus, closed the highways that cross our land, brought the sick to a safe place to be nursed back to health—but there’s lots of work left to do. Logistically, a reservation is a nightmare to contain—especially to police. I think Chief Billie would agree with me there.” Chief Billie nodded.

“Families live in clusters separated by sometimes long distances—many miles. Stores for food, especially fresh food like fruit and vegetables, and necessities like milk are not readily available, making staying in place impossible. The Navajo are social. We have pow wows, rodeos, church services—many opportunities for people to gather. It’s not just families getting together but clans. Far-reaching groups of people travel to feast days and other group activities, and these are an important part of our culture. We need them to remain who we are. So, to tell our people to quarantine, not to join others in tending their stock, or getting their kids in school, let alone attend life’s celebrations, is wasted breath.”

“Is there an answer?” Dr. Henry spoke up.

“Not one that I promise will work. I want us to concentrate on smaller pieces of the bigger puzzle—not try to tackle everything at once. For example, when we open the highways on Monday, there will be limited access and more than one check point. I have accepted the services of a small independent trucking firm who has offered refrigerated trucks to carry food to the doors of those living many miles from any commerce. There will be eight trucks carrying life-supporting food to those in outlying areas five days a week. I’d like to make certain that there is no need to leave one’s home. Quarantine will be supported. And help assured. Our camp here with six hospital tents has reached capacity. We will be constructing three additional treatment tents in the coming week.”

“But personnel? We’re way understaffed.” Again, Dr. Henry interrupted.

“IHS out of Albuquerque will send five permanent nurses and three lab techs who will live on site. I’ll get a list of names to you, Trini, and to Chief Billie. It’s not a lot, but it’s an important start, and I thank Dr. Black once again for depleting his workforce to add to ours. IHS did a surge projection in July, and we are falling in line with their worst case scenario. We need to act now.”

“Where is the funding coming from? Most of what you’ve mentioned will be huge expenditures,” Ben asked.

“Really good question. IHS, operated by the US Department of Health and Human Services, provides services to five hundred and seventy-four tribes across the US. I think it’s a well-known fact that Native health has never been a priority. IHS gets funded at one-third the amount of money per capita as Medicare or the VA.”

“That’s criminal.” This from a nurse in the back.

“Calling it names won’t change the situation that we’re in now—but I agree.” Dr. Black spoke up. “It just makes our jobs harder to perform.”

“With the money that we do have coming in—we’ve been promised eight million dollars from the federal government to be shared by tribes, in order of need—I am appointing a task force made up of many of the people in this room to oversee the way it’s dispersed. Yes, I expect there to be a lot of paperwork, Trini. The government demands a paper trail.”

“I’d like to volunteer. I could help with the reporting if needed.” Julie offered.

“Oh, I think my life has just been saved. Thank you so much.” Trini looked relieved, and Ben was pleased that Julie had jumped in to help.

“We’ll be adding two new doctors, and Dr. Black will add the Navajo reservation to his rotation one week out of every month. With extra volunteer nurses, we’ll have twelve on duty. Adding staff has been number one on the list of needs and I think we’ve made a dent in that. Let’s take a break and then I’ll ask those new to the group to introduce themselves.”

“Before you get away today, I want to share something.” Ben leaned close to Chief Billie and lowered his voice. “I think it might be a clue as to what happened to the shipment in the U-Haul.”

“Why don’t we step out on the porch now?”

Closing the door behind them, Ben shared the fact that at least two items from his supposed ‘personal items’ from the ill-fated U-Haul shipment had turned up here and were actually handed back to him by a thoughtful Trini who had no idea how they were connected to him in the first place.

Ben added, “I just think the coincidence is too much. My instinct says someone here was involved with stealing that shipment. And I think it was paid for twice. I’m thinking of having Julie find out everything she can about AMSA—where they’re headquartered, the CEO, other contracts—that sort of thing.”

“Good idea. Sounds like buyers were lined up for that shipment from the start. So, we’re back to learning who knew where it was going to be and when. By the way, I’m glad your wife could join you. She sounds like she’s not afraid of a little work. That’s great; we need her.”

“She’ll be writing articles on what’s happening on the reservation for her employer, but I know she’s excited about working with our project.”

“Speaking of which, we may have seen the last of any hijacked shipments this close to the reservation. Charley Chase was able to give a description of the man who forced him off the road and pistol-whipped him. If you’re thinking J.C., you’re exactly right. Without J.C. no more thefts, I’m hoping. Of course, it doesn’t tell us who he was working for, but I think it significantly changes things.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“We’ll know soon enough. With the expansion of the camp, there will be all kinds of equipment slated to come in here. I just wish I had the manpower to put some extra deputies out here.”

“Keep me posted. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

“Will do. Sounds like we need to get back inside.” Chief Billie held the office door open.

After the break, the president also mentioned that the Two Sisters With a Pot would be getting a more permanent structure with a modern kitchen which would include a new pizza oven and an enlarged indoor/outdoor seating area. That brought a cheer from his audience.

Next, several task groups were formed. Groups of three would be going out to interview families and check on their health, offering tests for the virus in strategic, easy to reach places—schools, two grocery stores, and a church. Plans were under way to evaluate the need for another tent city of hospitals on the other side of the reservation. Dr. Black was heading up that effort.

The drilling of a second well and the laying of additional electrical cable were both scheduled to be completed within a month. Lobbyists for the Navajo reservation would be meeting with various groups in Washington DC, and the senators and representatives from both Arizona and New Mexico were also helping to push funding. After another forty-five minutes of questions, the meeting adjourned.

 

* * *

 

It was dusk before Ben and Julie returned to their trailer. An intended quick meal at the Two Sisters with Dr. Black had turned into over an hour of discussion of additional needs and services that might be provided. Julie stayed late to discuss a possible work schedule with Trini, and Ben walked back to the trailer by himself. The second night they had been together and sleep had ruined any thoughts of a true reconciliation the first night. He wasn’t taking any chances of being turned down two nights in a row.

Finally, alone time. Ben uncorked a bottle of red and turned the lights off. He lit a few of the strategically placed candles he’d left around the living room earlier. He was glad they were alone—just the two of them. He had to admit there were times when children sort of got in the way. It was tough to make an evening special in a trailer, on a reservation, out in nowhere—but he was going to give it a try. Somehow Julie’s just being there made his world right. And thoughts of christening those fuchsia-colored daisy sheets made him smile.

 

* * *

 

There was no better way to wake up in the morning than to open your eyes to find someone curled into your body with a bare leg casually thrown over your own—after a night that almost made him forget they’d been apart for three weeks. Ben smiled. He couldn’t even remember snuffing out the candles last night, but he must have—at least the place hadn’t burned down. Not that it hadn’t gotten hot enough for some type of combustion in the bedroom …

He had taken the day off under the pretext of showing Julie her surroundings, but in all truthfulness, he just wanted to be with her. Three weeks had seemed like a year. After breakfast and coffee at the Two Sisters, he had them pack two hoagies and two bags of chips for their lunch. It was odd to buy hoagies from Navajos on their reservation—Italian meats and cheeses, sweet dills, pickled onions. He’d just eaten two waffles, and his mouth still watered for a hoagie. He threw a couple extra bottles of water in the ice chest. If they did any hiking, the water would be appreciated.

New Mexico was hot this time of year. But that wasn’t a surprise for Julie—this region was home for her—close to where they were, but the more civilized, citified part far from what they were going to see today. Ben had planned on an hour’s drive along the edge of the reservation—home to the ancients. The Navajo were fortunate to still live on ancestral lands. They hadn’t been permanently displaced. Even after the catastrophe of attempted resettlement and the ‘Long Walk’ home to return to their origins, the hardships seemed to only make the nation more cohesive. The land within their four sacred mountains was theirs—forever and always, as the elders would say.

It was tough finding shade on land level enough to park the truck. But a stand of aspen just at the edge of rangeland offered a chance to get out of the sun.

“I see why they’re called quaking aspen.” Julie stood looking up at the silvery leaves, some just barely turning gold, that jiggled and bounced in the wind and the white bark with black etching that made the trees stand out from their less dapper neighbors. “They really are unique. We’re not going to find anything like that in Florida.”

“We probably need to talk about Florida.” Ben had lowered the tailgate and hopped up to sit at the edge of the truck-bed.

“As I said, I know that I don’t want to house-hunt without you. Too many choices—a townhouse? Condo? Three-bedroom house on an acre or two? Then there’s how close-in do we want to be. It’s going to be difficult for at least one of us not to have to commute for an hour. Adding two hours to a workday gets tiresome. I’ve done that before. And the whole area is so congested.”

“Sounds like the project has lost its appeal.”

“Yes and no. It’s a great job, one that my colleagues would fight over. But when I’m out here like this, it’s tough not to fall in love with the natural beauty of open spaces. I think there’s still some Southwest in me.”

“I don’t mind a commute; I just want a permanent position. I’m flattered to be chosen as a fixer—a fill-in of sorts—but I’m not able to activate any programs of my own for IHS, let alone see results. And, my top priority is our being together. I’m really tired of having a long-distance relationship. So, a couple extra hours a day on the road doesn’t sound all that bad. I think I could look at it as an investment in a future together.”

“Two careers suck.”

“Two careers just mean extra challenges.” Ben added, “We both knew what we were getting into. And as far as housing in the Everglades? Let’s keep Zac in mind and find something with a little room—a place for animals and maybe on the water.”

“Might take a little extra time to find, but it’s doable. All I know is how much I want to be with you.”

Ben stood and drew her to him. The kiss was long and intimate, then he pulled back. “Hey, much more of this and we’ll never make it up to the ruins. Tuck this bottle of water in your pocket, and let’s go.”

The hike was almost straight up—over boulders and around loose rock. There was a path of sorts but covered like it was in gravel, the going was treacherous—sometimes two steps forward and up, then slipping three backwards and down. But, it was worth it. Julie was enthralled by the cutouts in the cliff above. Crumbling walls of chiseled rock indicated rooms, living arrangements for families of a different time. Doorways in walls without ceilings or roofs stood in stark relief, no longer keeping anything out.

As she entered one of the rooms, the indentation of a long-ago used fire pit dominated the center. Had this been a kitchen? Maybe. It was the room closest to the steps up the side of the cliff. She stepped back through the doorway and looked out across the rangeland, stretching as far as she could see. What a protected place to live. No one could sneak up on you. With the posting of a sentry at night, 24/7 safety was assured.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Ben walked up to stand behind her. “Tough to think this place has a reputation for being evil. But I think that has been perpetuated to keep people from walking away with souvenirs. There used to be pot shards everywhere. But those are gone now.” Ben was digging in his backpack for the hoagies and chips. “Let’s sit on the stone steps over here.”

“There’s no way I can finish this.” Julie was staring at the foot-long roll loaded with filling.

“Eat what you can. I’ll probably be able to help you with the rest.” Ben laughed, “I think I used extra calories climbing up here.”

Fifteen minutes later she gave up and handed Ben the remains of her sandwich. “Makes me glad we have two salaries coming in. These sandwiches were huge. I can’t believe you’re still hungry.”

“Fortification for the hike back down,” he said, polishing off hers with three bites. “Hand me your garbage and we’ll get started back.”

Julie could have easily spent the rest of the day among the ruins. She’d brought her camera but had left it in the truck, having no idea how unique the ancient buildings were. This meant a trip back, and soon.

She was following Ben and trying to stay upright. It quickly became apparent that going down was more difficult than climbing up. She skidded, losing her footing and sitting down. Ben reached level ground first, turning to pick her up and carry her the last twenty feet.

“There’s not any mountain goat in you, is there?”

“You sound disappointed. I’d like to think that’s a good thing.” Ben put her down. They both turned toward the truck and saw the problem at the same time. Both of the truck’s rear tires were flat or, at least, nearly so.

“Damn it.” Ben sprinted ahead to the truck and knelt by the tailgate to inspect the tires.

“We must have run over something.” Julie walked up to stand beside him.

“Nothing apparent.” He ran his hand up and around each tire; the tread and the sidewalls. “No nails, sharp rocks … nothing; they’re just flat.” He pulled his phone out. “And, of course, no service out here. I have one spare but not two. I’m going to hike up to the road and hope I get phone service before too long. I’ll give the chief a call and have one of his guys bring another tire. I’m assuming somebody could at least loan me his spare until I can get these repaired. Stay here with the truck. I don’t have a good feeling about leaving it. And you’ll be here if the chief has someone in the area that he can send before I get picked up. With any luck I won’t be too long.”

 

 

Julie watched Ben take off at a jog through the edge of the aspen, around the last tree and onto the flat grassland. He turned to wave and blow a kiss, then he was up and over the road and out of sight on the other side. Julie opened the truck’s passenger-side door, reached in and rummaged a moment in the console for her trusty Nikon. It was a COOLPIX Digital Point and Shoot, one she had used for years before phone cameras got good and she’d gotten tired of carrying so much equipment around. Times like this she was really glad she hadn’t tossed it. Today it was going to come in handy. The article for the Herald that was beginning to form in her mind cried out for candid close-ups of the ruins she’d just visited.

She put the camera strap around her neck and started back up the rock steps. This time she could move a little faster remembering where she’d have sure-footing. The afternoon sun was now behind the ruins, leaving her path mostly in shadows. The boulders on each side of the path towered above her head, blocking a lot of the sun’s light. She stopped to stare upward. Something had caught her attention.

She would never know for certain what happened first. Was it the scraping sound above her, making her think some animal was wiggling out from between two large rocks? Maybe the hunched-over shadow of a two-legged animal bounding across the tops of the rocks to her right and then out of sight? Or was it the complete blocking of light as a four-foot wide boulder broke loose and began its crashing descent from some thirty feet above her directly into her path. No, the mystery would be what happened next.

First, she froze. Her mouth was open but there was simply no sound. A voice in her head was screaming ‘jump’ but before she could move, she was hit with a force from the side that threw her off the path, occurring almost simultaneously with the explosion of the boulder ricocheting dangerously close, brushing her pant leg as it crushed everything in its trajectory down the steep steps.

She hit her head and felt the camera bounce up to glance off her chin; she was hurt, but she was alive. Something had saved her life—pushed her body forward, out of the path of the runaway killer. She tried to sit up but was too dizzy; she slumped back against the rock. And that’s when she realized she wasn’t alone.

She blinked. She had to be seeing things. She was staring into the red, glowing eyes of a fox—long, pointy nose, ears erect, with mottled red fur, clawed feet hanging down.

Moments later she couldn’t remember getting back down the steps to slide down the side of the truck, and to sit on the ground holding a washcloth of ice cubes against the side of her head. She knew she hadn’t done these things for herself.

No, Ben wasn’t there, but the fox was. Rocking forward, sitting on his haunches, watching her, holding out a bottle of water in a hand bound at the wrist with a braided bracelet of sinew and shells.