“I think Hosteen Tso is a fine old gentleman. A warrior. What do you think?”
Aaron looked at his empty plate. “I think he imagines things, maybe because he’s mostly here by himself. Sometimes he can’t sort out what happened last week from what happened a long time ago.”
“Has he talked about a creature prowling on the ridge before?”
“Yeah, he mentioned it the first time a few months ago. He said he’d seen something out there walking. He was shook up about it, too. He called it human and then said it could have been a big dog or a wolf. Or something else. He told me to be careful, and to be sure to leave before dark. He worries about me the same as he did when I was a kid.”
The same way Bernie’s mother worried about her and her little sister, she thought. It didn’t matter how old she got, how good a cop she was, Mama would always envision her as a child whom she needed to protect. She pulled her attention back to Aaron’s story.
“A few days ago I brought him some groceries, wire to fix the fence, gasoline for his chain saw, other things he asked for. I hung here longer than usual to help because his hip and back hurt. He said he thought the pain came because of what he’d seen on the ridge.” Aaron didn’t use the word for the evil creatures either in English or, more descriptively, in Navajo, Bernie noticed.
He walked to the stove and turned off the propane burner beneath the pot of beans. “It was the same story that he told out there on the porch. He tells those stories over and over, and I can’t tell if the same thing happened again. He comes up with stories he heard as a boy to make sense of things.”
“The old stories are part of what makes us Navajo. They give us a framework. They’ve helped me when I have to do a job I’d rather not face.” Bernie put her plate on the counter next to the other two. “You asked me about his story, if I believe it. I’ve seen some things at night when I’ve been working alone that I don’t talk about. A lot of what happens leaves me puzzled, makes me wonder.”
“Wonder what?” Aaron was giving her his full attention now.
“Wonder what was going on, and if I’d seen something or just imagined it.”
“I thought he was trying to scare me into staying out here with him when he told me what he saw before the car burned. I told him I couldn’t. I’ve got to get a job, and this place doesn’t even have a telephone.”
“So we’re back to the car. What do you know about it?”
“Nothing. I told you already. But let Wheeler know it’s not connected to the vehicles that burned near Window Rock, and to give those dudes a break. And tell him that my friend, the one he’s hassling, he’s not hanging with them anymore.”
“What is your friend’s name?”
“Vernon Vigil.”
“I’ll mention it.”
Aaron took a mug to the big red thermos that sat on the kitchen counter and pushed in the button to start the flow of water. “You’re a cop. You stay up with stuff. I need to ask you something. Do you know anything about a new solar project out here?”
“It sounds great to me. A way to provide power for people like your grandfather, and the extra power would help other people. They’ve been experimenting with it a long time and the new technology seems dependable and safe.”
“They want to put some of those collector things by this house. Someone has been talking to me and Mom about it, and we think it sounds like a good deal. Grandfather could get electricity as well as some money, but he won’t do it. He says the panels would spoil the view, and he wants to see Ship Rock as it was meant to be seen. He would rather live in the dark out here alone than change his mind.” Aaron sipped the water. “What do you think?”
“I think solar power is great, but people have a right to say no.”
“You sound like him. Mom and I are trying to persuade him to come and live with her in Gallup. That way he wouldn’t have to see the panels. Or he could stay here with lights and a refrigerator. Have shows on TV instead of just looking at the scenery and watching the dust settle.”
Aaron poured a second cup of water. “Want some?”
“No, I have to go.” She stood a little straighter. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me anything about that car?”
“Nothing to say.”
She went back to the porch and said good night to Mr. Tso.
“Come back,” the old man said. “I have stories for you.”
Aaron walked to the car with Bernie. “If you’re really a cop, how come you aren’t driving a police car instead of that thing?”
Bernie gave her Toyota a pat on the hood. “No patrol unit because I’m off duty, on my way home. Any shortcuts back to Shiprock?”
He looked at her vehicle again. “You’ve got enough clearance to make it.” He gave her directions that sounded simple. Straight, a right at the big fork, then a hard left before the old windmill. Watch for ruts.
She found the big fork—at least, she assumed it was the right junction—easily enough, thinking about Aaron and how he stood to benefit if the burned car scared his grandfather into moving. She considered the connection between Roberta Tso and Miller. Decided that the stolen car report on her desk would have Miller’s contact information, and that he needed to answer some questions.
It was getting dark, the last rays of the long-lasting June sunset bathing the landscape in dusty pink. She drove on, savoring the fading light and the cooling air. She avoided most of the teeth-shaking holes in the road as she searched for the windmill without luck. She prided herself on her sense of direction. How could she miss a windmill? Maybe Aaron had given her wrong directions. She switched on the headlights and decided to turn around if she didn’t find the windmill at the top of the next rise.
Then, instead of the windmill, she saw an animal standing in the road, its eyes reflecting greenish gold in the fading light. In her years of cruising back roads on the reservation, beginning long before she was a legal driver, she’d encountered scores of coyotes. This one was huge, unlike any coyote she’d ever seen. She slowed down to let it move aside, but it held its ground. Goose bumps rose on her skin.
Her logical mind tried to make sense of it. Maybe it was a hybrid, an animal born of a large coyote and an even larger dog. Maybe a wolf hybrid had escaped from that refuge near Ramah and trotted out this way.
She slowed some more. The animal watched, challenging her to proceed. When she honked, it began to lope toward the car.
Without hesitation, Bernie made a U-turn back to Mr. Tso’s place, glad that the dirt was hard-packed here and, for once, happy that there had been no rain to soften the soil. She glanced in her rearview mirror, wondering if it would chase her, but the animal had disappeared.