Mama reached to the walker for support and rose gingerly from the chair. “My daughter knows how to make good coffee. I want to go in to sit with her. And you come in, too.”
Chee held the door as Mama moved inside and pushed into the kitchen with measured steps. She eased herself into her regular chair. Bernie poured coffee for her and brought it to the table, along with the sugar bowl and a spoon. She poured a second cup and handed it to Chee.
He took the mug by the handle. “I’m going back out to the porch to make some calls about my sister-in-law. I’ll tell you what I find out.”
After he left, Bernie took her regular seat and waited. Mama looked at the coffee in her cup, tried a sip, and added more sugar. She put the cup down and pulled herself a little taller in the chair. “Elder daughter, I have been thinking things over. I would like you to stay so we can decide how to help your sister. It would make my heart happy to be with you.”
Bernie was glad that her mother considered it rude to look someone in the eye. She quickly brushed away her tears. “I will be happy to do that, Mama. We will figure things out together.”
Suddenly, the night seemed sweeter.
4
Chee had good connections and a bit of luck. After a few calls he discovered that Darleen was in the San Juan County Detention Center, arrested for disorderly conduct and placed under protective custody because she was drunk. He was glad he’d found her, glad that she wasn’t in the hospital or dead, glad that she hadn’t been arrested for DWI. After decades of highway tragedies, New Mexico’s legislature had made the state one of the nation’s toughest places for drunken driving. He told Bernie privately, stressing the good news—Darleen was safe. His wife would decide when and what to tell Mama.
After that, he called Paul and told him Bernie had to help Mama, but he would be back tonight to do whatever needed doing. Chee appreciated the fact that his clan brother didn’t ask why Chee hadn’t been invited to stay, or when Bernie would return.
“If we can’t make the People Mover start,” Paul said, “we could use your truck and my truck. You could follow me. Maybe a couple of them won’t mind sitting in the back, you know? You and I used to do it when you came to visit.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get your baby going.” Chee figured that even if they didn’t know it was illegal, tourist passengers would balk at riding in an open truck bed.
“I’ve been nervous about this, brother. It means a lot to me.” Chee heard the relief in his cousin’s voice. “I’ve been making some notes for tomorrow for the bilagaanas. I can brew a thermos of coffee, and I’ve got a can of milk, some sugar cubes. Would you stop and get some of those little doughnuts? I’ll pay you for them. You know, the white ones with the powdered sugar outside?” Paul made a soft clicking sound with his tongue. “I wish we had some of those breakfast burritos like the ones you used to make. That would be perfect.”
Chee stopped at the grocery in Shiprock, amazed to find it still open. The mini doughnuts looked shopworn, so he bought what he needed for burritos along with a case of bottled water. The customers would probably want it. It would be warm, but it was the best he could do. Then he went by the trailer along the San Juan that he and Bernie called home and picked up his police uniform and weapon. He’d need them for his vacation-interrupting assignment.
Chee’s drive back to Monument Valley was long and solitary. He told himself to stop feeling grumpy, to remember how lucky he was to have a wife who cared for her relatives and who expanded the circle to include his relatives, like Paul. He already missed Bernie.
When he got there, he fixed the People Mover by flashlight. The repair didn’t take long—it was just a matter of reconnecting loose battery cables. He was thankful that old engines didn’t require computer analysis.
Chee wasn’t usually an early riser, but before sunrise he and Paul went to work making burritos. Chee cooked the filling, and Paul wrapped the tortillas, sealed the burritos in foil, rolled them in towels, and put them in an insulated bag. Chee set up the coffeepot and placed it over the fire in the fire pit. Paul had found six cups, the old-fashioned kind their grandmother had used. Because this was Paul’s first time guiding a tour, Chee agreed to come along as an observer. He could suggest improvements for the next time.
The guests—two couples from Norway—were ready at the visitor center at 6:00 a.m., bright-eyed and excited. They seemed amazed and a bit intimidated to find themselves in the big, open, nearly waterless landscape with a real Indian as a guide. Paul further wowed them when he told them that Chee, his assistant for the day, was a genuine Navajo Nation policeman.
The visitors nodded and introduced themselves: Filip, Emma, Emil, and Nora. They spoke rusty high school English.
“You came here on holiday like us?” Emma, a woman in a long-sleeved hiking shirt, asked.
“Yes, but I’m going to be working here, too, helping with a movie.”
The woman looked at him with more interest. “You are in this movie?”
“No, ma’am.” He tried to explained the situation, which led to more questions about the Navajo Nation police and how they operated. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut; he knew from experience that talking more than necessary only led to trouble.
He helped the visitors into the People Mover and they bounced along to Paul’s place, where they toured the hogan, admired the ramada, and praised the coffee. They gobbled up the burritos once Paul showed them how to scrape off most of the green chile and explained that they could do so without hurting his feelings.
After breakfast, Paul pulled the People Mover keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Chee. “You drive so I can concentrate on giving out the information. I’ll tell you where to turn for the photo vistas.”
The tour went remarkably well. To Chee’s amazement, Paul knew quite a bit about photography and had a jovial way of sharing advice without being pushy. He told Chee to stop at all the right places for pictures. Paul also explained the geology of the park and talked about its plants and animals without going overboard. The customers knew enough English to understand the essence of the narration and ask questions. They took dozens of photos of horses on the sand dunes.