Coyote's Wife

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

High up in the Chuska Mountains on a winding forest road, Special Investigator Ella Clah of the Navajo Tribal Police took time to enjoy herself. While her second cousin Justine drove the pickup, she gazed down at the New Mexico side of the Navajo Indian Nation. It felt good to be up here today, on the hunt for piñon and cedar logs instead of fugitives or suspects.

She’d always loved this particular section of the forest road. In places the trees were so close on both sides it was like driving down a blue-green tunnel lined with the rich scent of pines. Ella breathed in the humidity, a sensation usually missing down on the desert floor or atop the mesas of the Colorado Plateau, where she’d lived most of her life.

This had been a perfect morning. The golden
leaves on the scrub oaks all around them intermingled with the pine-covered slopes and brought back a kaleidoscope of pleasant memories. After hiking for over two hours, searching for just the right pieces, they’d found four lengths of beautifully twisted cedar and piñon—thick cuttings that would be perfect for what Herman, her mother’s husband, had in mind. “Thanks for the help in tracking down
the right pieces,
partner. Once Herman peels off the bark, then sands and stains each piece of trunk, these will make gorgeous one-of-a-kind table lamps. You should see his work. I’m buying two from him—one for me, and one for Dawn.”

Justine smiled slowly. “Okay, before you award me a merit badge for forest skills or woodcrafts, I have to ’fess up. I had a personal stake in this. One of the lamps
he’s making is for me. I saw his work in your mother’s sitting room and placed an order with him. The lamp will look great on the table by my living room sofa.”

Ella laughed.
“That’s
why you were being so incredibly helpful on your day off!”

“Well, that, and the promise of lunch at your mom’s,” Justine answered, laughing.

Ella joined her.

Before long they passed a small meadow, and Ella grew
wistful. “I miss trips like these up into the mountains, cuz. My family used to come up for firewood every fall about this time. When Clifford and I were younger, Mom and Dad used to rely mostly on the heat from an old wood and coal stove they’d bought and hauled all the way from Colorado. We already had propane by then, but Dad’s ministry was just getting started and they were trying to save money
any way they could. Clifford and I would come up here with Dad and compete to see who could gather the most wood. Dad was the judge, and whoever brought in the most didn’t do chores for a week. The loser would have to do them all.”

“I missed out on that kind of thing growing up in town with no fireplace or stove. We always had natural gas. So who’d win the contest, Clifford?”

Ella smiled slowly.
“Naw, it was me, at least until Clifford finally wised up. He loved chopping wood, and spent most of his time with the axe. I’d get whatever was on the ground first, then saw up the dead stuff that was too heavy
to carry. When Dad measured our piles, mine was usually bigger. It used to irk Clifford to no end,” she said laughing. “I think it was a testosterone thing with him. He loved that axe!”

“You’ve always played to your own strengths. That’s why you close more cases than anyone else in the department,” Justine said.

“That and a lot of stubbornness. I won’t give up.” Ella leaned back in her seat, basking in the radiant glow of the sun coming though the windshield.

She’d just closed her eyes when a warm spot near her neck suddenly began to burn like a hot coal. Realizing with a start
that it was the badger fetish she wore—Ella jerked upright, as if stung by a bee. She’d never figured out just how it worked, but the fetish would always get hot when danger was near.

Ella reached over automatically for the handgun at her waist, and although she didn’t draw her weapon, she kept her hand right next to it. On call twenty-four-seven, she was required to remain armed even on her
days off.

Aware of Ella’s reaction, Justine jumped. “What?”

“Something’s not right. Keep your eyes open.” Ella searched among the trees to her right, then glanced in the side mirror. There was nothing back there but the dirt road and a trail of dust rising up into the air.

She’d just turned back to her left when a bloody figure staggered out from behind a tree, directly into the path of the
pickup. “Look out!” Ella yelled.

Justine swerved to the right, then touched the brakes, going into a barely controlled skid.

The man in front of them turned at the sound of the sliding tires, his face contorted in fear. His red-gloved hand went up in a vague attempt at protection. Then he pitched forward onto the road.

Still sliding, Justine uttered a curse, and whipped the pickup to the right
again. The tires came dangerously close to the edge of a steep drop-off and Justine whipped the wheel back to the left and stood on the brakes. They slid a dozen feet, then came to a stop, raising a cloud of dust.

“You missed him! Good job,” Ella yelled, throwing open her door and jumping out of the cab. “Call 911,” she added, coughing from all the dust.

The figure, dressed in work clothes,
was lying on the road behind them, facedown. The dust the pickup had raised was settling on the fabric of his heavy denim shirt, darkening what appeared to be a sleeve completely soaked in blood.

As Ella ran up, the man turned his face toward her. His hollow wheeze was followed by a strangled cry of despair. The next instant he went limp. His head dropped to the ground, his mouth open, his eyes
staring at nothing.

The coppery scent of blood was strong and Ella’s heart was hammering. Her thoughts racing, she searched for the source of his bleeding. Aware of the dank, earthy smell that clung to him, she kept her breathing shallow.

Ella had been at her job for too long not to know death when she saw it, but she still checked. Reaching down, she touched the pulse point at his neck. His
body twitched, and she flinched. Then all movement stopped. The man was beyond their help.

Crouching down, Ella studied the body before her. His left arm was completely drenched with blood. Through a tear in his left sleeve she could see a five-inch diagonal cut on the inside of his arm, about halfway between his elbow and his wrist. The cut went into the bone. It could have been the result of
his having thrown his arm up to ward off the slash of a big knife, or maybe a machete.

Justine came running up, carrying the first aid kit she’d
left behind the seat. “How is—oh,” she added, seeing Ella shaking her head.

Ella focused back on the body of the Navajo man. The sticky sweet smell of blood on his shirt and jeans was so thick in the still air it nearly made her gag. Although she’d
seen more than her share of dead people, she normally arrived on the scene well after the fact. This …made it more personal somehow.