Plant Them Deep (25 page)

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Authors: Aimee & David Thurlo

BOOK: Plant Them Deep
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“The name sounds familiar,” Mae said, “but I can’t quite place it. You know what? Clara Henderson might
be able to help you. She’s met almost everyone who has ever lived in these parts.”
“That’s a great idea,” Rose said. “May I borrow the photo?” she asked, looking at Merline. “I promise to take good care of it and bring it back undamaged.”
“All right.”
After saying good-bye, Ella and Rose walked back to the truck. “Daughter, what did you find up there when you went to look around? Something
disturbed you. I could see it on your face when you returned.”
“Someone had been there, but the really curious thing is that he went to the trouble of wiping out his tracks.”
“With a branch?”
“No, he used the old Indian way—sprinkling sand over the footprints so it all blends together.”
Rose remembered the tracks that had been obliterated around the cliff where Charlie Dodge had died. The
same method had been used there.
It took a moment for the realization to hit her. Then, as understanding dawned on her, a shiver ran up her spine. This
could mean only one thing. Charlie’s killer now had his eye on her.
Although it wasn’t easy, Rose kept the observation to herself. She knew that there was nothing her daughter could do, since there was no hard evidence to substantiate any of
it. The police didn’t believe a murder had taken place.
This would have to remain her fight—one she’d have to see through alone—at least for now.
L
ater that evening during visiting hours, Rose headed out to the hospital. Unfortunately, no one had found the plant needed for Lena’s ritual. Now Rose had to do whatever was necessary to try and keep Lena from losing hope.
When Rose walked down the hospital corridor twenty-five minutes later, she was surprised to see Herman leading Lena down the hall. Lena was dressed in her
regular clothes and, from what Rose could see, was having a lot of difficulty walking. She was leaning heavily on Herman.
“What’s going on?” Rose asked quickly, joining them.
“I’m going home. The doctors here can’t help me.” Lena’s voice sounded hollow and weak.
“They’re allowing you to leave?” Rose asked shocked.
“Allow? I’m an adult. I don’t need their permission.”
Rose looked at Herman,
hoping to understand what had precipitated Lena’s sudden decision, but he simply shrugged.
“She was heading out of her room, though she was barely able to stand, when I found her,” Herman said.
“What are you thinking?” Rose glared at Lena. “This is crazy. You’re not well enough to be walking around. Who’ll take care of you at home?”
“What does it matter? I’m getting sicker here,” Lena said
quietly. “They can’t do anything about it. They test for this and for that, and nothing comes of it. I just want to go home.”
Rose tried to think of a way to stop her, but knew that when Lena made up her mind, that was that. Not that she blamed her. She knew Lena would never find peace here at the hospital. People walked the halls at all hours. Machines beeped or whirred constantly, and everything
squeaked. Most of all, death shadowed these halls. She’d hated every second she’d spent here after her collision with the drunk driver.
“You were here long enough to know how difficult this place is,” Lena said almost as if reading her mind. “This isn’t for you and me. When we try to follow rules that make no sense to us, everything gets worse, not better.”
“Have you told your doctor what you’re
doing?” Rose asked.
“Yes. He said he’ll sign the release papers—under protest.” Lena gestured toward the nurses’ desk. “There he is now. You might suggest he hurry up, because I’m leaving,” she said, creeping along slowly toward the door, Herman supporting her.
“I’ll take her home. Don’t worry,” Herman assured Rose. “Sadie and Boots will be there waiting for us. I’ve already called them. You
can meet us there.”
With a sigh, Rose went up to the Anglo doctor. Many young doctors like him came to the reservation to pay off their college loans, or as a substitute for military service, but few stayed after they’d met their obligations.
“Before you ask, I would have preferred Mrs. Clani stay,” the doctor said. “But she may be right. This isn’t the best place for her. We’ve compensated
for her blood pressure problems and have given her pills to take care of her tachycardia, but she’s been getting steadily worse. She’s depressed, unhappy, certainly not eating, and her red blood cell count is not good. I have no experience with tribal customs, but I do know how
important a positive outlook can be to a patient. I’m really beginning to think that unless she gets traditional Navajo treatment
she’ll continue to deteriorate. The only time she showed any improvement was after the … what do you call her … the hand trembler came.”
Rose nodded. “You’ve given up, then?”
“No, not at all. I’m still going to send by a nurse practitioner to monitor her vital signs daily on an outpatient basis. I’ll work with the practitioner and treat Mrs. Clani’s symptoms, but for the most part, I’m going
to let her handle things her own way and see what happens. But she and I have made a deal. If she gets worse at home instead of better, then she comes right back. You and her other friends need to make sure she keeps her part of the bargain.”
Rose hurried outside and found Lena already inside Herman’s truck. Rose helped her strap her seat belt on, then nodded to Herman. “I’ll follow you.”
Twenty
minutes later, they arrived at Lena’s home and were greeted by Jennifer and Sadie. Herman led Lena inside and Rose stopped to talk to Jennifer.
“Will you need to stay here, Boots, now that she’s home?” Rose asked. “If you do, that’s fine, but let me know, because I have to find someone to help with my granddaughter.”
“I’ll be here at night, and my mother will stay during the day,” Jennifer answered.
“Mom isn’t a traditionalist like my grandmother and me, and they don’t always get along, but they do love each other. If Mom should need a break, Sadie has agreed to remain here as well.”
“I’m glad you’ve worked it all out,” Rose said with a nod.
Rose helped Lena to bed, and as Lena sank into her own familiar mattress, she sighed contentedly. Rose could feel her relax. Her friend had been right
to come back to the home she loved.
As Lena closed her eyes and her breathing became rhythmic, Rose reached into her purse and brought out the new
jish
her son had made for her before she’d been to that grave site. Right now she wanted Lena to have whatever power and protection it could give her.
Leaving the medicine bundle by her bedside, Rose tiptoed out of the room.
The following morning
after taking care of her own garden and tending Charlie’s plant, which had perked up, Rose checked and learned that Lena had slept peacefully through the night. Relieved, she drove to Clara Henderson’s home.
Clara lived just off the reservation near Waterflow with her daughter Lori, who worked in Farmington during the day. Clara loved her old farm near the river, and had told all the Plant Watchers
on more than one occasion that she enjoyed being alone during the day. She could move at her own pace, not have a television or radio blaring at her, and could come and go as she pleased.
Rose pulled up in front of Clara’s home, a low, wood-framed, pitched-roof building, and waited in the truck. After five minutes, when no one came out to greet her, Rose climbed out of her pickup and looked around.
Closer to the river where an old orchard gave way to the bosque and a high levee protecting the farmland from floods, she could see a hunched-over figure moving along the sandy soil. The entire area was dappled with sunlight and shadows from the tall canopy of old cottonwood trees. Clara’s white wool shawl gleamed in the sun like a beacon.
Rose walked down to meet her. Clara had slowed over the
years, but she still said her prayers to the dawn and went for long walks every day.
As Rose drew near, Clara spotted her and waved. “You’re
just in time,” she said. “I just took a long walk, said a prayer and scattered some corn pollen in the river, then picked some ‘big yellow on top’ to add to our stew tonight.”
“At least there’s still plenty of that around,” Rose said.
“How is our friend?”
Clara asked, knowing exactly what had been on Rose’s mind. “I heard she insisted on going home last night.”
“She seems a lot happier in her own house, but a ceremony will have to be performed soon and there’s still no ‘white at night’ to be found anywhere.”
“I know. I’ve searched too, without any luck,” Clara said. “I did find some ‘gray sunflower.’” Clara brought a small cutting from the hand-sewn
leather pouch she carried. “Will you take it to our friend and tell her to remember the legend? When Horned Toad was in mortal danger, he ran under ‘gray sunflower.’ Lightning and chaos rained from the heavens, but he remained safe,” Clara said. “It can do the same for her.”
Rose nodded and smiled. “She’ll appreciate it.”
They walked back up to the farmhouse, and once inside the kitchen, Clara
slowly ambled to the stove, filled a kettle with water, then placed it on the gas burner.
“Tell me what brings you here,” Clara said.
“I’m trying to find someone—a person I’m hoping you know or remember.” She told her about Charlie and everything that she’d learned. “I found a photo of his brother—who looks almost like his twin—and they were standing with an Anglo man by the name of Bruce Gunn.
Do you happen to know him or his family?” Rose handed her the photo.
“I knew a family by that name years ago, but I have no idea where any of them are now.” Before Clara could say any more, they were interrupted by the sound of a car driving up.
Rose went to the window so Clara wouldn’t have to get up. “It’s
Gishii
,” she said.
“Invite her in,” Clara said.
Minutes later the three women were
sitting around the small kitchen table.
Gishii
had brought her special corn-sunflower-seed bread that she made by grinding her own corn into meal, kneading it into a dough, then adding the seeds for flavor. They each took a piece and ate as Rose told
Gishii
who she needed to find.
“I don’t know if it’s the same man you’re looking for, but I do know someone with that last name. I teach gardening
classes at the Farmington Retirement Village north of Thirtieth Street. One of the seniors there goes by the name of Bruce Gunn, but, of course, it doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the same man you’re looking for. But he is in his late seventies, which is the right age.”
“I’d like to meet him. Can you arrange it?”
“I can try, but I don’t know his telephone number, nor do I know which of the
cottages at the village is his home. I can talk to him next week during class, or we can go over there now and see if we can find him around the recreation building. That’s where many of the residents spend a lot of their time.”
“Sooner is better,” Rose said.
“Okay,”
Gishii
said, then looked at Clara, their host. “After I finish in Farmington, will you help me come up with the right proportions
for gold dye? I have several pounds of cliffrose twigs and leaves, and I’ve found some alum at the base of the rock cliffs to add to it, but I haven’t had much success getting everything mixed together right.”
“Come back anytime and I’ll be glad to help you,” Clara said. “I’ll be around all day.”
After saying good-bye to Clara, Rose walked out with
Gishii
. “My truck or yours?”
“Let’s go in
mine. I have a sticker on the bumper that will get us past the security guard easily. Clara won’t mind if you leave your pickup parked here.”
They were on their way five minutes later.
Gishii
was unusually quiet for a long time, but Rose allowed the silence to stretch. Finally
Gishii
spoke.
“I don’t know why knowing our old friend’s real name makes such a difference to you. He was who he was—regardless
of the name he chose to use.”
“I need to do this for myself,” Rose admitted, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But it’s for his sake too. He was the one who made sure that we would find the other body—probably that of his brother. He wanted the truth to be known.”
“It’s a lot to take on, after so many decades have passed.”
“Yes, it is, but I won’t give up.” Everything was connected,
and a pattern would emerge sooner or later. As it was now, it was possible that Charlie had been killed because of who he’d been instead of what he’d been doing for her. It was a shred of hope Rose clung to desperately out of her own selfishness or guilt.
Thirty minutes later,
Gishii
drove through the entrance to the retirement community, a pleasant, well-landscaped collection of small houses
arranged in five dwelling arcs connected by sidewalks. There were no roads inside the complex itself, just large landscaped areas with stone walkways that cut through them.
“All the cottages here are numbered, and the residents can be as independent as they choose to be. There’s nursing care provided for all of them, and recreational activities are part of the package as well. That’s where I
come in. I teach gardening, and help with the pottery classes,”
Gishii
explained.
“There are a lot of cottages here,” Rose observed, noting at least five of the curved rows radiating outward from the center. Each individual unit had a small garden area in the front and, she supposed, in the back. All were well tended.
“We provide gardeners for those who can’t or choose not to garden. The people
here seem very happy.”
They wandered around the main building, the recreation center, but it appeared all but deserted at the moment. “There must be another activity going on now, maybe even a field trip. Usually we’d see at least four or five people in the indoor pool and twice that number in the outdoor one.”
Gishii
paused, lost in thought. “Let’s circle around the complex and see what we
can learn.”
As they walked around the complex, Rose felt uncomfortably hot. The facility appeared to be relatively new, and there were no tall trees to provide shade. Unfortunately, it was over ninety degrees today.
“Will anyone go outside their homes in this heat?” Rose asked.
“Keep an eye out for anyone heading to one of the pools. That’s our best hope.”
Halfway around the circle of cottages,
Rose saw a welldressed woman in her late sixties carrying a cheese tray. She was hurrying toward them along the circular walkway.

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