Under Desert Sand Read online

  "They fought?"

  Singletree nodded. "They often ambushed each another. It was necessary for all the desert people to approach the springs with great caution. Often the choice given them was die of thirst or be killed by the enemy."

  "Yet they still traveled those routes?" Short's eyebrows arched.

  "They had little choice. Each tribe needed resources from the western desert and beyond to survive. Neither tribe was very large. Most days the springs were deserted and quite safe." Singletree sipped his coffee. "Some were more dangerous than others. Of all the watering places, one called Coyote Spring had the worst reputation for danger. It was said Coyote himself used the spring and liked to play tricks on travelers. Some saw Coyote as a protector of the water, others as a schemer who liked to cause problems. Either way, people from both tribes knew the reputation of Coyote Spring. No one wanted to stay at the water hole after night fell. They would pack all the water they could carry to a camp well away." He paused, gave a brief smile. "Today Coyote Spring is called Hidden Springs."

  The waitress hovered, ready to take their orders.

  Dan was ready. "I'm having the Big Mess Omelet."

  Zack raised an eyebrow.

  "It's the best deal on the menu, if you like meat," Singletree said.

  "Then I'll have it too."

  "Huevos Rancheros for me." Butch said. He grinned at Zack. "That's what I always order.

  The waitress busied off.

  Zack turned to Singletree. "Are you suggesting Coyote had something to do with the murders at Hidden Spring?"

  "Maybe, in a way. My people will tell you Coyote still guards the well. They believe a shaman buried an object of great power there during the Mystic Era, perhaps a “crooked stick” or poro, and those who come to steal it meet death. Often there is truth to the old stories. It is true many people died there, long before the first white man came. You White Men believe history began when you arrived. You people don't look beyond yourselves."

  Zack pondered the story. "Maybe this is more my kind of case than I first thought."

  Butch didn't appear amused. "You came up here to tell me Coyote hangs out at that spring and caused the death of those boys? What am I supposed to do with that?"

  "You need to do your history homework. You don't have to believe Coyote or a spirit lives at the spring. You do need to understand how such beliefs influence people," Dan said.

  "I still don't get you."

  Zack turned to Butch. "It's kinda like going into Iraq without understanding anything about the history of the tribes there, or their disparate beliefs."

  Dan nodded his agreement.

  Short opened his mouth to say more, but the waitress was back with three huge steaming plates and a scattering of side dishes. It was a good ten minutes before anyone was able to talk.

  The first was Butch Short. "Dan, I get the general idea, but you're gonna have to be a lot more specific."

  Dan put down his fork. "I will try to spell it out. If you believe something bad will happen, it is probably going to happen. Take the 1905 gunfight at Hidden Springs. Before those two gunfighters met up, there was a lot of talk around the valley about who had the fastest gun, the steadiest nerve. The Chemehuevi already knew the reputation of the spring. We knew when those guys found themselves face to face there they didn't have a choice. They were gonna die. Coyote waits there for fools like those gunmen, so it's no surprise to me." Dan turned to Zack. "What do you think, Agent Tolliver? They say you understand the power of Coyote."

  Zack was surprised. "I didn't know my reputation made it this far. Let's just say I don't discard any possibility out of hand. I've learned to wait and see. In the case of those gunfighters, I can understand how everyone's expectations might have helped bring about the confrontation. But I'm enough white man to think there's maybe more to it than just Coyote."

  Dan chuckled. "Well played, Mr. FBI."

  Butch shook his head. "It's still gonna take a lot of convincing for me to see Coyote behind every Joshua tree. These two young men who died weren't there by accident. I double damn guarantee you something was going on to draw them there. An' someone else knows about it."

  Zack looked sidelong at Singletree. "Why do I feel there's something you haven't mentioned?"

  Dan gave a half smile. "There is, but it might be too steep a hill even for you to climb."

  "Try me."

  "Okay then." Dan sat back from his plate. "My people say Coyote still lives at that spring. People who have seen him describe a cross between a human and an animal, sometimes walking upright, sometimes on all fours. Some say it is partially covered in fur, some say it is hairless and thick skinned like a reptile."

  Short groaned. "Oh, wonderful." He shook his head. "Maybe your ancestors claimed to see it to keep others away from the water at the spring."

  "Mojave people have seen it, too."

  Short became impatient. "Thanks for all the background, Chief, but we really need to concentrate on what's happening today, not ancient mythology."

  "I do not speak of ancient mythology," Dan said, "unless you consider last month ancient."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Susan's cell phone roused her from deep sleep. She yawned, stretched an arm to the bedside table, exploring the unfamiliar surface with her hand until she found the vibrating instrument. "Hello?"

  "Stay away from Hidden Springs."

  "I'm sorry, what?"

  "Stay away from this case. Go home."

  "Who is this?"

  "This is the only warning you get. Tell your buddy."

  The voice was gone.

  Susan was wide-awake now. Her pulse raced, her brain whipped from numbing sleep to adrenalin-charged reality. Her eyes swept the unfamiliar room, the chain-locked door. She checked for the caller's number: her phone said: "No Name, No Number".

  A loud thump sounded on the door. Her heart flipped, her mind blanked. She fought through a fog of panic. She started to call Zack.

  "Susan, time to wake up." The voice through the metal door came muffled yet familiar.

  "Eagle Feather?" Oh thank God. "Wait a minute, I'll be right there."

  Not bothering with slippers, Susan threw on her dressing gown and ran to the door. She opened to the chain, slid it off, and put her arms around the man waiting there.

  Eagle Feather stood, his arms pinned to his side by Susan until she finally loosed her grip.

  "I'm so glad to see you," Susan said.

  "So it seems."

  Susan tugged Eagle Feather into the room. "Come, close the door. I'll call Zack to come over."

  "Don't bother, he is not there. I tried his room first." Eagle Feather gave a glance around the tiny room, looked a question at her. "What's going on?"

  "Someone just called and threatened me. He said to leave this case and go home." She took a deep breath to calm herself. "I suppose you know what we are involved in here, since it was you recommended Zack to the BLM agent."

  "Butch Short and the double homicide?"

  "Yes."

  "Zack called me last night. He said bring Big Blue, he needed our skills. Since I obviously don't have a life of my own, I came right out here, drove through the night." Eagle Feather's gaze stayed on Susan. "That call has upset you. Zack said there might be hostility; apparently he was right. What will you do?"

  "I––well, I don't know. It just happened. I haven't had time to think about it."

  "Is there a reason you have to be here?"

  "No, not really. Zack invited me along. He thought aspects of this case might interest me." Susan was standing this entire time. Now she sat on the edge of the bed.

  Eagle Feather removed his black reservation hat with its single feather, set it on the desk and sat down. "What did this voice on the phone say to you?"

  "Just what I said. Go home. Stay away from this case. Stay away from Hidden Springs."

  "What is Hidden Springs?"

  Susan launched into a fast summary of events. When she was
done, Eagle Feather nodded.

  "I see now why Zack wanted Big Blue. He must think there was another person present during the shooting. He hopes Blue and I can find some sign of that person." He paused. "Do you know where Zack is now?"

  Susan shook her head.

  Eagle Feather took out his phone. "Hello, Zack. Blue and I are with Susan in her room. She has had a scare. Are you available for breakfast?"

  Eagle Feather put his phone away, stood. "I will go get Blue. He will want his breakfast too." He gave her a sympathetic look. "Zack will come soon. We will talk about this at breakfast." He paused. "I could eat a horse."

  An hour later they were all at the Wagon Wheel, full plates of steaming food covering the table. They left Blue, fed and watered, stretched across the front seat of Eagle Feather's truck in the shade. The big bloodhound had a joyous reunion with Zack, almost knocking him over while sloshing a large, wet tongue across his face.

  Zack was happy to see Eagle Feather. "You two eat your fill. I'll have a cup of coffee. I already ate a Big Mess Omelet." He grinned. "That was more than enough." He turned to Eagle Feather. "I'm glad you came. This case may become interesting."

  "How much do you pay, White Man?"

  "A tall beer?"

  "Sounds good to me. When do we start?"

  "Right after you eat your breakfast." Zack's blue eyes took a mournful cast. "Have you seen Libby? How is she?"

  Eagle Feather's fork paused part way to his mouth. "She's good, Zack, she's doing fine." Their eyes met momentarily, drifted away.

  "Susan's got some news," Eagle Feather said, his tone brisk, moving on.

  Between bites, Susan told Zack about her alarming wake-up call. No, she did not recognize the voice. It didn't sound angry or emotional at all, just matter of fact. Yes, it was a man's voice.

  "Susan, there is no reason you have to stay," Zack said, "I don't want you looking over your shoulder the entire time."

  Susan was angry. She was over her fright now, felt safe with two strong men and a dog to protect her. "No whacko caller is going to drive me away; just the opposite." She set her lip. "I'm here for the long run now."

  Zack regarded her. "You are the stubborn one––but I'm glad to have you."

  After breakfast, and a trip to the hardware store, they all piled into the Jeep. Three humans, a dog, and a metal detector were a tight squeeze, but with the top removed they were comfortable enough. Susan sat on the rear bench seat with Blue, insisting Eagle Feather have the more comfortable front seat to stretch his legs after his long drive from Tuba City. Blue sloshed a tongue over her face as a welcome. That sealed the deal, to her mind. She would stay.

  Eagle Feather probed, Susan and Zack answered his questions about the investigation until the Hole-in-the-Wall turn-off appeared.

  "You plan to stop by for the ranger?" he asked.

  Zack shook his head. "I don't want anybody around when you and Blue do your thing. I know you have no stake in this, but I can't say the same for anyone else."

  Susan leaned forward. "You don't trust Tav?"

  "My instincts say yes, but I don't want anyone to influence our findings, even with a facial expression."

  "He doesn't have any of those," Susan said. She leaned back, took in the surrounding landscape. It was mid-morning, the sun bright, the sky flawless blue. A slight alkali taste of dust was on her lips. The whipping wind was cool, but she knew it would become dry and hot later on. Except for clumps of sage, the land seemed completely empty.

  The jeep bounced onto the Hidden Springs access road, dropped into the dry creek bed, skidded up the far bank. When they arrived at the gate, it was closed. A large padlock hung on it.

  Zack stared. "That wasn't here yesterday."

  "Someone trying to protect the crime scene?" Eagle Feather asked.

  Zack shook his head. "I've been granted full access by Tav and Butch Short. They didn't mention a lock nor did they give me a key."

  "Who else, then?"

  Zack stared around at the higher land to the south. "There was a rancher who wasn't so keen on our presence." He slid out of the Jeep. "Well, they can't keep us from the crime scene. I think the spanner wrench might do the trick." Zack walked around and opened the back, located the tool under the floor panel, lifted it out.

  Eagle Feather came back and put a hand his arm. "I wouldn't break through that gate just now."

  Zack looked at his friend in surprise.

  "Somebody just might be hoping you'll do that to give them an excuse," Eagle Feather said. "Don't look now, but there's someone near that tall pinyon pine to my right at about one o'clock. I saw a reflection, something metallic was moving."

  Zack kept his eye on Eagle Feather's face. "A set up, you think?"

  Eagle Feather nodded. "Perfect excuse. Somebody breaking through someone's fence."

  Zack put down the wrench. The two men walked back to the front of the Jeep. "Ideas?"

  "We can make him come to us," Eagle Feather said. He glanced at Susan, including her. "We will wait him out; raise the hood of the Jeep and study the engine as if there is a problem, see what he does."

  They played out the scenario as Eagle Feather suggested. It took a half hour for the would-be ambusher to give up and ride over to them.

  The man on the horse was Bronc. He rode up as if he'd just happened along. A rifle was in a scabbard on the saddle.

  "You folks need a hand?" he asked. He eyed Eagle Feather.

  "No, Bronc, just letting the engine cool while we wait for Tav to open the gate for us," Zack said.

  "Who's your friend?"

  "This is Eagle Feather, a colleague."

  "You FBI too?"

  "No, Navajo."

  "We ain't got Navajo around here."

  "I guess you got one now."

  Bronc stared, then climbed down. He wore a pistol in a holster low on his hip "I reckon I can open that gate for you. Tav don't have a key. This here is Kellogg Ranch land."

  "I thought it was a government preserve."

  Bronc eyed Zack. "That too, but we got a grandfathered lease on it. We try to keep strays away." He walked to the gate, turned a key in the lock and swung it open. With a mock bow, he waved them through.

  Once they were inside, Bronc swung the gate closed again. He set the lock in place. "I'll just leave it unlocked like this; when you leave push it closed." He climbed back into the saddle, gazed at Zack. "We'd shore like you to finish up and move along. Ain't no mystery here, unless you spend time trying to make one." He reined his horse around and rode back the way he'd come.

  Zack grunted. "If I were a betting man, I'd say that's the fellow made the call to you this morning," he said to Susan. "Does the voice sound familiar?"

  Susan shook her head. "I really can't say. It all happened too fast."

  Zack walked to the yellow tape, scanned the area. "Nothing appears disturbed. Let's get to work." He glanced off at the far trees. "I think we can assume we'll have an audience from now on.".

  CHAPTER NINE

  The boys' truck died in Kingman, Arizona. Fortunately, they'd stored most of their belongings with a climbing friend in Albuquerque before heading west on I-40. After the truck wheezed its last, they sold it to a local in Kingman who had a friend headed to Las Vegas. They caught a ride. From there, they hitched south on Interstate 15. Their ride dropped them at Primm, Nevada. Once it grew dark, rides vanished. The boys booked a cheap room at Whiskey Pete's Casino and headed to the bar.

  "Drinks here cost more than the room," Julio said, looking at the menu.

  "Burgers cost more than the drinks," Col said.

  The man next to Julio glanced at the boys. "You're in the wrong place. Go to the Food Court. There's a Mac's, Dairy Queen, all that stuff. If you want a drink, go into town to the liquor store. My advice."

  It was good advice. At the food court, they each bought a five dollar foot long at Subway.

  "Wonder how hard it will be to get a ride tomorrow on I-15," Col said between bites. "
The traffic really flies down that road."

  Julio's idea was to work a ride in Whiskey Pete's parking lot. "You figure everyone here is going either north or south, there's no choice, meaning fifty percent are headed our way. If we stand on the shoulder of I-15 nobody will even see us."

  "Where are you boys going?" The man at the next table was pale white, his blue eyes watery.

  "We need to get to Kelso Junction," Col said.

  The man shook his head. "Good luck. That's down in the Preserve. You'll be lucky to catch someone happens to be going there. You'll end up dumped on the Interstate in the middle of the desert. You don't want that."

  Julio moaned. "You're telling us we're stuck here before we even get started."

  "Not really." The man wiped his mouth, leaned toward them. "I been where you boys been, more than once." He grinned. "Fact is, by tomorrow morning, I'll likely have less money than you got now." He leaned closer. Col smelled the whiskey even past the cheeseburger. "Here's what you do. I'll meet you here for breakfast; give you a ride across the highway over to the Union Pacific Railroad. You can hop a freight car."

  "The train?" The boys looked at each other.

  "Sure, why not? It slows to a crawl at the state border for a long climb up the grade. It goes directly to Kelso. Time was it was a major stop for soldiers during the war. It still stops there, and even when it doesn't, it's slow enough to hop off."

  The man was true to his word. When they arrived at the food court they found him right where he said he'd be, smiling. He'd done well at the tables, as it turned out, and treated them to breakfast. Then he drove them on a dirt road along the Nevada/California border as far as the Union Pacific tracks.

  "Just wait here," the man said. "Don't be fooled by the cool air, the sun is hot. Stay in the shade of these trees and go easy on those water bottles. You're gonna need all that water." As he started to drive off, he stopped, rolled down the window, called to them. "One more thing. Don't jump a flatcar; you can't get out of the sun on those. Grab a freight car, then you'll have shade." With a wave, he spun off, leaving a spurt of dust.