She remembered the sheep in their wooden pen and looked toward the spot, but couldn’t see it through the brilliant flames that were consuming the house. She wondered if the corral would catch fire. Poor creatures. She hoped they’d be safe. Then she smiled at herself. She must be a real Navajo to let the dibé into her thoughts before she considered what she would do next.
She saw another light, not from the fire but flickering in the distance. Vehicle headlights, she concluded, the motion caused by the bumpy dirt road. Had Oster grown disoriented in his search for the paved highway, driven out the wrong way, and come back? In the glow of the burning house, new terror showed on Mr. Tso’s face. She kept her voice calm and spoke in Navajo. “We will lie down again and be still.” He complied.
She supported her head with her palms, and watched until the vehicle grew closer. It was white, not black. Bernie stood as quickly as she could and limped to the road, waving her arms and shouting for help.
Miller stopped the van and yelled through the open window. “What happened? Why are you—”
“Mr. Tso is hurt. Help me lift him into the car. Hurry.”
When Miller opened the door, the overhead light came on, and she saw Buddy sitting on the brown leather front seat. She stepped away, but Buddy didn’t growl.
After they made Mr. Tso as comfortable as possible, she climbed into the backseat next to him. Miller drove away from the fire, toward the paved road and the hospital. He reached over to hand her a bottle of water.
“Why did you come back?” She unscrewed the lid and offered Mr. Tso a sip. “I thought you were on your way to Phoenix. Did you get lost out there?”
“No. I was nearly to the highway when I heard the explosion. I didn’t know what happened, but it sounded bad. I thought maybe I could help. Remember, I said I told you I was turning over a new leaf. What about you? Weren’t you going to your mother’s place?”
“I left, but then I saw Oster’s car and kind of put things together and came back.”
She reassessed her own injuries. Besides her shoulder, her head ached, and her neck hurt. Her hip felt tender where Oster had kicked her, but amazingly, nothing seemed to be broken.
“Oster was there at the house?” Miller asked. “What happened to him?”
“The skinwalker got him,” said Mr. Tso.
Bernie said, “I heard his car start and drive off.”
The smoke from the fire drifted away from them. Miller rolled down the front windows, and Buddy stuck his head out. “What will you do about me and the plants?”
“The Navajo Nation will give you a fine. I’m not sure what the penalties are, under federal and state law. That is, if they can find you and figure out who you really are.”
They drove in silence awhile. Finally Bernie asked, “After you take us to the hospital, are you really going to Phoenix?”
“I am. I need to check back in with the US Marshals, my keepers, who’ve been looking for me. I guess you figured out I’m in the program, and I don’t mean AA. They need me to testify against a creep I knew from Las Vegas, a scammer who thinks he’s a hotshot movie producer. Clever little twerp, and mean too. A guy named Delahart. I was trying to get out of it, work that card scam I told you about, but I’m tired of that.”
He reached over and rubbed Buddy behind the ear. The dog ignored him. “In that program at NAU where I learned about skinwalkers, the guy talked about living in harmony with the rest of the world, walking in beauty. That sounds like my new plan.”
“Much luck to you,” Bernie said.
Mr. Tso coughed, and she felt his body shake. She put her hand on his forehead. It was too warm, she thought, and they had a long drive to the hospital.
“You know,” Miller said, “I think it pays to be a good guy. I found Buddy on the road back there after I turned around. He’d been running, but he seems OK. I was worried. I thought Mr. Tso must have killed him.”
Mr. Tso mumbled something.
“What was that? I couldn’t catch it.”
“He says, ‘Ahéhee.’ Thank you.”
“How’s he doing back there?”
“He’s a tough one. He’s a fighter, but we need to get help for him as soon as we can.”
Shortly after they reached the main highway, she saw the flashing lights of a Navajo Police vehicle and a black Porsche Cayenne pulled over on the shoulder.
“Slow down.”
She spotted Officer Bigman standing over someone sitting on the ground. The person was wrapped in a blanket, even though the night was warm.
“Pull over and stop. Wait here. Don’t disappear on me, Miller.”
She walked past Bigman, noting the surprise on his face, and nudged Blanket Person with her foot. “Hey, there.” Oster looked up when she spoke. “You’ll have a lot of time to think about saving the planet while you’re in prison.” His expression matched the definition of a word she rarely used: dumbfounded.
Bigman said, “What happened to you? Where did you get that fancy van with the big dog? I thought you didn’t like dogs.”
“It’s a long story. This guy you’ve got here tried to kill me and Mr. Tso. Mr. Tso is hurt and in the van. We’re on our way to the hospital.”
“Stay here. I called an ambulance for this one, and it should be coming shortly. Quicker than you can get to the hospital.”
“So how did you know to arrest Oster?”
Bigman smiled. “I’m psychic? No, he crossed the yellow line and practically ran me off the road. I thought he was drunk, but when he pulled over I noticed the blood seeping through his shirt. It looks like he’s got a broken arm and quite a few bite wounds. He’s been raving about some animal attacking him and catching a house on fire.”
“Actually, there is a house on fire.” She pointed out the dim glow in the sky behind them.
“Guess I was too busy to notice,” Bigman said.
Down the road now she saw the flash of colored lights: an ambulance heading toward them. “I’m amazed that you were out here.”
Bigman chuckled. “I told you I was psychic. Actually, we have your little sister to thank. She called the station, worried. Sandra told her to chill, but she phoned back. Practically ordered her to get someone to come and find you. She mentioned the old man who lived near the burned car. I was driving out to look for you when that guy nearly hit me head-on. Glad you’re OK.”
“It’s been exciting.”
“I’ll have to go to the hospital with Oster, since he’s in custody, but Largo’s sending somebody as backup. He can take you home.”
“Probably the rookie,” Bernie said.
The ambulance arrived. The attendants helped Mr. Tso out of the van, onto a gurney, and gave him immediate attention. Miller and Buddy drove away.
One of the EMTs came up to Bernie. “Can I do anything for you?”
She considered how she must look: dirty, disheveled, reeking of smoke, her mouth swollen from Oster’s slap and her face-first fall. “I’m fine, except for my shoulder. Better, now that Mr. Tso is in good hands.”
“Let me take a look.” He did a quick examination. “It’s not dislocated. Probably a sprain and some bruising. Ice will make it feel better. Still, you ought to have it x-rayed.”
“Thanks.”