“Your husband?”
She made a long, exasperated noise through her clenched teeth. “No, Heeci’ecihit, the Highwayman.”
“Well . . .”
Her head slipped to the side, and she eyed me at an angle. “He died in fire. It is a bad way to go.”
“I don’t know if there are any good ones.”
She flapped the hand at me again. “There are many, but fire is bad. The terrible thing about fire is that you become one with the wind, your ashes carried around the world over and over again seeking peace but finding none. Every time Heeci’ecihit attempts to come to rest, the winds pick him up, blowing on the embers of his soul and carrying him further.”
I cleared my throat and leaned in. “So, if we were so inclined, how could we find peace for him?”
I sat there looking at her, and the noises from the casino seemed to fade away and we might’ve been sitting in the canyon with only the sound of the water and the wind around us. “The dead only want the same as the living.”
“Which is?”
“To be understood, but to help him be understood you must first understand him.” She studied me for a long time. “I have decided to help you.”
“In what way?”
“I think it is time we did a purification ceremony in the canyon and do what we can to help Heeci’ecihit find the peace he deserves.”
“You don’t think he stole the money?”
“No. I do not, but there are those who do. I would say that is part of what keeps him restless and riding the wind.”
“What else?”
“Things I cannot say—things you will have to discover on your own.”
She glanced at Theona and lowered her voice. “The family has had a hard life, harder since Bobby died, but she did not know him that well.”
“And you did?”
Her eyes came up sharp. “Yes, I did.”
It was a hunch, but that’s how I make my living, so I did something I tried never to do. “Kimama, how old are you?”
The darts in her eyes faded, and she smiled. “I do not know.”
Her tone was coy, but I was pretty sure. “Don’t know, or won’t tell me?”
“How old do you think I am, Bucket?”
“I’m guessing, mind you, but there’s one known fact that gives me an idea.” I leaned forward, placing an elbow on the table and crowding her personal space, but she didn’t even bat an eye. “Bobby Womack was thirty-two years old when he died and if you’re about the same age as he was and Sam Little Soldier, which I think you are, then that would put you somewhere around seventy.” I waited a few seconds and then added, “I bet I’m close.”
She rested her hands on her lap and stared at the floor. “Thirty-two does not sound so old now, does it?”
“Sometimes it’s as old as you get.”
She pulled at her lip as if stretching it might loosen the words. “My marriage was a bad marriage to begin with and when I discovered I could not have children, it got worse. My husband held it against me—he was a big man and struck me often. He would not grant me a divorce. It is strange, but in those days such a thing was unheard of. Bobby and me started seeing each other on the sly. Nobody knew about it, but I would often drive up into the canyon to be with him.”
“Did he ever say anything about the men he’d shot?”
“Yes, he talked of it many times. It was a great sorrow to him that he had to do such a thing and especially to two of his own people. He said he had no choice, that they had pointed their guns at him and he had responded the way he had been trained, and now they were dead.”
I pulled the coin from my pocket and handed it to her. “The flat-hat, Rosey, has been finding one of these just before something terrible happens in the canyon.”
She felt the silver dollar in her hand, running her thumb over the surface but not looking at it. “You received this one?”
“Yep.”
“When?”
“Last night, in the tunnels.”
“Did something terrible happen?”
I thought about it as I watched her fingers run over the coin and then decided an attempted suicide pretty much fit the bill. “Yep, I guess you could say that.”
“But the flat-hat, she lives?”
“Yep.”
“Because of you.”
“I suppose, and Henry.” I brought my eyes up to her. “Did he ever say anything about the money?”
“No, but people talked because he was Indian.” She looked out at the casino again. “Things have changed but maybe not so much.”
“Did it bother him, the things that people said?”
Her eyes turned back, and she studied me. “Would they have bothered you, those words?”