Chapter 32

 

 

All in all, an extremely satisfying trip into Albuquerque. That is, Ben admitted, if the Pueblo representatives in attendance were successful in convincing their people to get involved. They would know Friday. If a healthy number of men and women showed up in their pickups or on horseback, ready to scour the reservation for those who needed help, then the plan would have been a winner.

Ben really felt that the Pueblo Governors he met at the meeting had been persuaded to help, but could they persuade others, the members of their Pueblos? In the meantime his own plan was becoming challenging. He’d spent most of the morning on the phone, working to make certain that transferring PPE and other hospital equipment could be done safely—collected first in Albuquerque then brought to the reservation to be stored and handed out as needed. There was something so very wrong, when life-saving equipment needed to be controlled, as well as guarded.

He wished his own plan didn’t depend on a letter from the Navajo Nation’s president and a supportive New Mexico governor, high-powered, busy people who might not give his plan their full attention. But he had to have faith. Now the only thing left was the waiting. He hoped to have a yea or nay answer by noon tomorrow. And the minute the request letter was ready to be delivered, Ben would be off to Santa Fe.

“There doesn’t seem to be any animosity between Pueblo tribes and the Navajo.” Julie was standing at the stove stirring a pot of green chile stew. Picking up something from the Two Sisters and not having to cook in the evenings made life easy. Three large pieces of fry bread were wrapped in foil and warming in the oven.

“Not any more. A few hundred years ago the Navajo raided the Pueblos. The Pueblos really didn’t become war-like until after the Spanish arrived. The tribes are different—Pueblos farm and Navajo raise livestock. Their ways of life are not in direct competition. In many ways they’re complimentary. I’d like to think that the key to getting the Pueblos to help the Navajo identify those in need here on this reservation is the promise of returning the favor. Plus, it’s money. Jobs have dried up and travel is limited. This opportunity comes at the right time. I think it’s going to be attractive to a lot of people.”

“So, what’s on the agenda for tonight? Make it something enticing so I won’t be tempted to go back to the office.”

“Well, how about a couple beers, a bowl of popcorn, and a movie? I’m afraid that means squinting at my computer screen.”

“You have a date.”

 

* * *

 

One movie led to the additional viewing of a documentary and a second beer. It was after one in the morning when Ben closed his laptop and shut off the living room lights.

“Coming to bed?” Ben paused by the bedroom door.

“I need to put the stew away. I’ll be there in a minute.” Finding a plastic container the right size was going to be a problem. It was great that the trailer came stocked with something so simple, and so helpful, but it appeared that several freezer-safe boxes had just been tossed under the counter. With her head in the cupboard, rummaging through a stack of mismatched containers and lids, the knock at the door was muffled.

“Ben, someone’s at the door.” But the bedroom door was closed. He couldn’t hear her. “Okay, I’m coming.”

Julie didn’t even think to turn on the porch light; she simply opened the door. The young teen standing in front of her looked like he’d traveled a long way—and quickly, judging from the sweat on his horse.

“I’m Nathan.” He held out his hand, inviting her to shake it. But it wasn’t the gesture that caught her attention; it was the white, braided sinew bracelet dotted with tiny shells circling his wrist. The same bracelet had been on the arm that pushed her out of the way of the boulder and saved her life.

“Come in, Nathan, I’ve been wanting to say thank you.”

The answer was a shy smile and a nod as he stepped inside.

“Nathan.” Ben walked into the living room. “Is something wrong?”

“My uncle died. If you meant it, about sending me to go to school with Zac, I want to go.”

“Of course, I meant it. Let’s tackle this in the morning. You can have your old room for the night. But first, let’s get Apache over to the corral and bedded down.”

“I brought Rain, too.”

“Then we’ll get both of them ready for bed.” Ben put a shirt on and, with an arm around Nathan’s shoulders, the two of them went back outside.

 

* * *

 

In the morning Ben let Nathan sleep in. He fed and watered both horses and had barely checked in with Trini and poured his second cup of coffee, when the call came. It was a go. The president’s office had made an appointment for him at three that afternoon with the New Mexico Governor in Santa Fe. The Navajo Nation would send the formal, written request to him by courier and he should have the letter within an hour.

Now, Ben had some work to do—come up with his convoy. Melloy Dodge, Larry Miller Chrysler Jeep, Galles Chevrolet, Rich Ford, and a half dozen other Albuquerque car dealerships didn’t even ask to think about it. Once Ben talked to the managers, there were instant offers of help. Ben was looking for twelve vehicles, pickup trucks of varying sizes, and he ended up with twenty. The pandemic was bringing out the best in people and this offered a way to help—a way to be part of the solution and help the state. So, now the only thing left to do was wait as the pieces of the puzzle came together. Wait, and also put the plan to get Nathan to Bellingham in motion.

Ben reached Raven on the first try and she was thrilled. Apparently, she’d heard nothing but good things about Nathan and knew how much Zac wanted him there. Ben was going to transfer money for clothes and school supplies immediately; and later, set up a fund for other necessities with whatever bank she recommended. He’d pay school fees and monthly room and board and pick up air fare for a couple trips home during the year, if Nathan wanted.

He explained to Raven that Nathan had no family any more on the Navajo reservation and that Ben was asking the Navajo Nation Council to grant him guardianship. He would get the official paperwork probably within a couple weeks and send her a copy. Enrolling Nathan in the Indian school in Bellingham had already been agreed to by the council. He didn’t say so out loud, but as quickly and smoothly as Nathan’s quasi-adoption was being pushed through, more than one person seemed to think they were saving a life. And Ben agreed. The human identity of Skinwalkers was always a best-kept secret, but many knew the families whose history could be traced to the Witchery Way.

Ben pulled his phone out of his pocket. Next was an airline ticket on Delta for tomorrow morning—one passenger, one-way to Seattle.