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Authors: Aimee & David Thurlo

BOOK: Plant Them Deep
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“You don’t really expect us to tell you where our collection sites are, particularly now that the Plant People
are making themselves scarce, do you?” John Joe said.
“Watch your tone. She works hard to follow The Way and protect our people. She deserves your respect,” Clifford said in a voice that cracked through the air like a whip.
John shrugged, then looked at the others. “Her idea sounds dangerous to me. We know someone is digging up the plants we need, and we already suspect this person has followed
some of us. There’s no other way the plant thief could have known about so many different locations. By giving away our best locations, we’re just inviting more trouble.”
“I agree,” Arturo Taugleche said. “We have to protect the Plant People.”
“I suspect we’re dealing with a person who’s digging up our plants so he can sell them to outsiders who want what they call ‘Southwest gardens,’” Ben
Tso said. “With a drought hanging over all of New Mexico, many people are turning to plants they don’t have to water very much. My guess is that the plant thief has no idea of the harm he’s causing by digging up the tribe’s plants and selling them. Let’s face it. Too many of our young ones wouldn’t know ’white flowered medicine’ from ‘sheep’s food.’”
Rose shook her head. “I think what we’re dealing
with goes beyond that,” she said quietly. “Specific plants are being targeted, not just the more common shrubs or flowers. This thief has focused on plants like ‘sheep’s food,’ ‘beeweed,’ and ‘tenacious,’ to name a few. These are plants we use both medicinally and for our rituals, not ornamental ones like yellow sunflowers or young piñon trees, which are so popular for landscaping.”
A silence
fell between them that no one interrupted for a long time.
Finally, Rose spoke again. “If we help each other out during this time of crisis, we can at least make sure we all have the supplies we need. This will give each of us something to fall back on. These plants belong to the
Dineh,
all the people.”
“The risk to our native plant populations remains. We need to protect our sources if we’re
to continue treating our patients and performing our traditional ceremonies,” John Joe said firmly. “I won’t share my collection sites.”
“Although he and I don’t usually agree on much,” Ben said, “in this I feel he’s right. Sharing our collections sites will not solve the real problem.”
“I will side with them,” Arturo added.
Jimmie Nalcoce shook his head. “I don’t know yet. I’m going to have
to give this some more thought. Years ago my
father showed me where I could find the Plant People and told me never to reveal those places. I’ve honored that request.”
“But these aren’t normal times,” Rose said.
“Exactly,” John Joe said. “But our traditions teach us that knowledge has to be guarded. To share all is to leave yourself bare. By revealing this, we’re risking the welfare of our patients.”
Rose had considered giving these medicine men the list of plants she knew to be endangered, but decided not to now that she’d received so little cooperation. If she shared, it might even encourage hoarding or profiteering, especially with John Joe. Finally she stood. “I understand the way you all feel, but please don’t close your minds to other possibilities. In the meantime, should you need an
herb or native plant you can’t find, come to me. I’ll do my best to help you.”
Rose turned and walked toward the path leading back to her pickup. She could hear Clifford following.
“I’ll walk back with you,” he said, catching up.
“Thank you, but no,” she said firmly. “We each have our own duties now.” She saw frustration flash in her son’s eyes, but she also knew that he’d respect her wishes.
As he turned around reluctantly and walked back to his meeting, she continued slowly down the path. As soon as she was sure he could no longer see her, she began favoring her leg. Concentrating on simply getting back, she moved carefully, making steady progress. The mountainside here was filled with rocks and the terrain was rough and difficult, but as soon as she reached the foot of the next
slope, it would level out for a while.
She had only about twenty yards left to go when she suddenly heard a twig snapping behind her. Thinking her son had followed, she turned around and looked through the underbrush. No one was about. She waited for several more moments, wondering if it had been an animal, but, unable to spot anything, began walking again.
A few minutes later, on easy ground
now, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps close behind her. The person was clumsy, obviously no hunter. If he was trying to remain undiscovered, he had all the finesse of an elephant.
“Who’s there?” she called out firmly, turning around slowly in a complete circle.
There was no answer. The only thing she knew for sure now was that it wasn’t her son following her. He would have spoke
up, not wanting to frighten her like this. Besides, when Clifford wanted to move through the underbrush silently, even the animals didn’t hear him. She reached down and picked up a stout piñon branch to use as a cane or a club.
After a moment she continued on. Rose took advantage of the easier ground and increased her pace now. By the time she reached her truck, she was badly winded, but as soon
as she started the engine and got under way, she felt substantially better, and discarded her temporary weapon out the window.
Rose decided to head home—not out of fear, though admittedly this incident had unnerved her, but to regroup and try to plan out her next move.
By the time Rose arrived at the house, Herman was sitting on her porch waiting. Surprised, she hurried over to him. “How
long have you been out here in this heat?”
“About an hour. Your granddaughter and her sitter offered me some tea. It was very good. Then they had to leave for a children’s birthday party. Boots invited me to stay inside until you got home, but I thought I’d rather stay on the porch.”
Rose smiled. Herman was very old-fashioned, and probably thought it would be overstepping the bounds of their
friendship if she returned and found him inside her house.
“Come in with me,” she said, inviting him inside.
Herman followed her to the kitchen and accepted another
glass of tea, “I went home, then realized that you probably had something else up your sleeve, so I came back and waited. I was sure you’d find some new way to get yourself into trouble.” He studied her expression. “Something’s happened,
hasn’t it?”
Rose told him about the truck following her, and later the person on foot up by Beautiful Mountain. Then she made him promise not to tell her daughter. “She’ll worry because she’s my daughter—and what’s worse, she’ll make me crazy because she’s also a police officer. And the truth is that there’s nothing she can do. This person is trying to frighten me—nothing more. They haven’t actually
committed a crime.”
“But you can’t tell if that’s all they’re prepared to do. There are stalking laws now in this state.”
“I’ll just have to wait and see what happens. If it continues, I’ll file a report with the police. But no matter what, I won’t let anyone prevent me from doing my job.”
Herman wanted her to do more to protect herself, of course. They discussed her options for a full forty
minutes, but were far from an agreement when Clifford stopped by.
He greeted Herman warmly, then poured himself a glass of Rose’s herbal tea from the jug in the refrigerator.
“Son, after I left, did the other medicine men think some more about what I’d proposed?” Rose asked him.
“Yes, but they’ve decided to follow the advice of the new traditionalist,” he said, referring to John Joe. “That’s
the first time that’s happened. None of us have ever taken him very seriously before. Let’s face it, he’s barely learned the Sings. It’s little wonder he gets uncertain results when he does one of his ceremonies.”
Clifford shook his head despairingly. “Did you know that he also fancies himself an herbalist? Unfortunately, he’s made some major mistakes, but his incredible luck always bails him
out. Some of his patients have spoken about it—in private, of course, because nobody likes to make an enemy of a medicine man. In one case, he mistakenly gave out the wrong herb. Then, when his patient got sicker, he told the man that someone had put a curse on him, and charged him for an extra ceremony. When the effects of the herb wore off, the man got better, of course.” Clifford expelled his
breath loudly. “He’s an embarrassment to all of us.”
“Yet, today, they followed his lead,” Rose commented, looking over at Herman, who was listening unobtrusively, sipping some tea.
“In this, yes. Tradition has a lot to do with it, and he brought that up at just the right moment to sway the others. And then there’s the matter of your work for the tribe. They trust you, but they also know that
you’re required to make reports to the tribal council on what you find. They’re afraid that any information they give you will eventually fall into the wrong hands, and they’ll end up compromising the collection sites they’re trying to protect. We’ve all heard that you travel with a camera, so even if you weren’t specific about the location of the collection sites in your reports to the tribe, someone
familiar with our reservation might be able to find their way there.”
“I don’t have to record what I find with the camera, son, and I don’t photograph the plants at an angle that reveals the background very specifically. The camera is only used to help in categorizing
what
I find, not where I found it. I can write the information in a way that doesn’t reveal precise locations.”
“It’s still risky,
Mother. We’re nearly certain that the thief has been following some of the medicine men. I haven’t seen anyone trailing me, but two other
hataaliis
have reported to us that their collection sites have been ravaged. And the new traditionalist warned us to watch our plants. He said there were some Navajos wandering around one of his gardens just this
morning, but they drove off when he yelled at
them. He couldn’t tell who it was.”
One
of his gardens, Rose thought, glancing over at Herman, whose eyebrows had risen slightly. She didn’t know for sure if John Joe had actually recognized her when she’d taken a look at his plants. Did he really have a second garden, or was he just trying to mislead her?
“I understand their concerns—and yours,” Rose said, putting speculation aside for the
moment. “But I can be especially careful and simply not drive to any collection sites if there’s any chance I’m being followed.”
“You taught me that knowledge is a living thing that’s meant to be shared. And I must admit that I’ve heard some of the healers discussing the collection sites others use, usually with good intentions in mind. But you also told me that it’s a sign of wisdom to know
what to withhold. The new traditionalist was correct to remind us of our teachings. Can you understand that this isn’t simply a matter of trust? It’s about survival and about protecting the Plant People.”
“If you prefer, I can give you a list of the plants that are said to be endangered. You can then tell me if they’re still at the locations you normally search.”
“I can do that.” He leaned forward
on the table and stared at his hands.
“There’s something more on your mind,” Rose observed, her voice soft. “Tell me why you came.” She suspected he had bad news.
Herman started to stand and excuse himself, but Clifford motioned for him to remain seated. Herman looked at Rose, who nodded.
Clifford took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I spoke to your friend’s Anglo doctor earlier today.”
He paused. “What he told me isn’t good.”
Rose tried to brace herself. She had to remain strong now—for herself and for Lena. “The Anglo doctors don’t always know everything.”
Clifford nodded. “They know she’s very ill, but they can’t figure out what’s wrong with her. So far they’ve only been treating the symptoms, not the cause behind them.”
“Then
you
have to be the one to help her,” Rose
said firmly. Herman nodded in agreement.
“To select the ceremony that will help her most, I need to bring in a hand trembler to help with the diagnosis. But this case is a difficult one and I need to get the best. I’m going to try and contact the woman who lives close to where the old trading post at Hogback used to be. She’s the only one I’m certain will be able to accurately diagnose the trouble
quickly and let me know which rite to perform.”
Rose knew the woman, Sara Manus. She was a gifted diagnostician. “Have you ever worked with her before?”
Clifford shook his head. “I’ve asked for her help in the past, but her schedule is always full. It probably still is, but I’m going to try.”
“When you go to her this time, tell her you’re my son.” Rose went to the drawer in the living room
and brought out a small leather drawstring pouch. Inside was a small bear fetish. “Give her the fetish, and tell her I need her now. She won’t refuse you.”
Clifford looked at his mother in surprise. “You two know each other?”
Rose nodded. “When we were both girls, we were very close. A few days before our
kin-nahl-dah,
womanhood ceremony, we made a friendship pact. I gave her an eagle feather
that my father had given me, and that his father had given him. She gave me this hunting fetish that had been in her family for generations and had recently been passed on to her.”

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