“Sarge?” Lily asked, feeling her tension partially melt. Sargent Gill would not hand over her credentials if they involved any real harm to her.

Gabriel bent his head down to unfold the map. “I man a research outpost for the base at Groom Lake. I’m located right about here.” His finger stabbed down on a wild expanse of land, known variously as Cedar Mesa and the Grand Gulch Primitive Area.

“How many people at your post?” Lily asked.

“Myself and some livestock,” he replied, smiling up at her. It was an entrancing smile. “It’s more than a bit lonely.” Then he resumed a brisk tone.

“My facility has a lot of complicated equipment: weather gauges, radio transmission, satellite communications. But I have need of a good machinist.”

That’s why he had come to her, she realized. Still wary, she was growing more and more intrigued. And evidently the Army didn’t rate her PTSD as a barrier to this assignment. Could it be they thought some solitary duty would be helpful? Although it wouldn’t be completely solitary, would it, not if she worked with this enigmatic man? She’d been a damned fine machinist, a Specialist Allied Trades, in her unit. Until the IED had exploded on the road outside Ramadi, killing her two closest comrades. Master Sargent Gill had carried her screaming and kicking out of the jeep’s wreckage.

She came out of her reverie to find the man patiently waiting for her attention.

“That’s rough country. Plenty of survivalist hikers have come to grief out there. How do you get your supplies?”

“Helicopter comes every month on schedule. Ships in supplies and takes out data feeds on paper that don’t transmit. If I want, I take a horse and mule and get supplies. I come here or travel down to Goulding’s. They have that supermarket, you know.”

She nodded, her mind busy. If this was all on the level, she’d been offered an opportunity. If not, well, she’d fought her way out of tighter spots. She’d hiked parts of Cedar Mesa since she was a kid. This guy’s base had to be pretty far inland, though. Lily felt a thrill of something indefinable when she looked at this Gabriel. He was sinfully beautiful in face, high cheekbones, planed forehead, and pointed chin, with skin golden from sun exposure. He had tiny crinkles around his eyes, another indication of carelessness with sunglasses.

Suddenly, she was moved by a new wave of impatience. Hiding from the world in little Mexican Hat. She needed to be doing something more than pushing a broom or making mediocre coffee.

“I have to make some calls,” she said. My father and brother are away.”

At that moment the bells jingled on the café door and a tourist couple with two small kids walked in hesitantly. The father said, “Could we get some breakfast here? We gotta long ride down to Flagstaff.”

Gabriel jumped up from the table. “I’ll handle this,” he told Lily, and walked over to the counter to pick up menus and her order pad and pen.

She went to the tiny office in the back and dialed the cell numbers for first her father, and then when there was no response, her brother. His phone rang and rang without switching to voice mail. Acting on a hunch, she called her Aunt Rosita in Las Cruces. She answered on the third ring.

“Oh, Lily darling! I was going to call you. I heard from Radames late last night. He’s found some woman in one of those Gulf coastal towns. His cell isn’t working… No, he said he wasn’t coming back any time soon… Yes, Sam’s showing up there today or tomorrow… Yes, I know you’re holding the fort…”

Lily got off the phone after a few more minutes of effusive chatter from her aunt. She felt both ruffled and amused. The men of her family had always been this way. When her mother had been alive, she’d handled them masterfully. But Lily wasn’t Nesbah Tighe Ramirez. It was time to let go of reins she’d never been able to successfully deploy. Her next call was a local one.

When she returned to the café, Gabriel was blowing up balloons for the tourist’s two children and offering them gravely to as if they were prime prizes. Their parents seemed to be enjoying drinking their coffee while pondering the breakfast menu. Lily took their orders and returned to the kitchen. Gabriel joined her a few minutes later and they worked side by side in companionable silence.

The bells of the door jingled again when Lily came out to set the orders down on the counter. She served the family, and then walked over to the woman who stood inside the doorway. There was a sparkle in her eyes Lily hadn’t noticed much in the last six months. Maybe this decision was even more beneficial than she’d imagined.

“Oh, Lily! Thanks so much! Child, you have no idea how happy this makes me. I’ve had my fill of sitting around and being a grieving widow. I need work, now, just as my beloved Alex predicted.” She swung into action at once, pulling an apron out from behind the counter.

“I’ve got to pack, Mrs. Blanchard, but it won’t take me but a moment,” Lily said, nodding to Gabriel as he came out of the kitchen. He walked over to Mrs. Blanchard and she could hear them talking as she walked down the stairs to the basement bedroom she’d occupied since returning from the service.

The room was singularly blank without personal mementos and other revealing objects that told something about their owner. She opened the closet door and pulled out her kit bag; the big duffle had plenty of room to hold the small wardrobe that hung on plastic hangers and spilled out of a two-drawer chest. Lily stuffed everything into the bag and then sat down on the bed to pull open the drawer on the table next to the bedstead. She extracted her Magnum revolver, checked that it was loaded and set the safety catch. This item went into a small interior pocket. Next, a small framed photo of a smiling middle-aged woman wearing ceremonial velvet and a fine squash blossom necklace set with pieces of Chinese turquoise joined the clothes stashed in the duffle. Lily picked up the large bandolier bag she used as a purse, shed her apron, and wound the bag’s straps in cross-body fashion. A glance in the mirror and she was set. Hefting the duffle onto her shoulder she climbed back upstairs and re-emerged into the café. “I’m ready.”

Gabriel was waiting for her solemnly by the door. Lily went to cash register, opened a small cabinet underneath and waved Mrs. Blanchard over to show her all the necessary keys, neatly labeled and hanging from separate pegs. She accepted — or was it endured — the woman’s enthusiastic hug and final endorsement, “Don’t fret, now. I’ll manage everything quite nicely. Your brother won’t recognize this place by the time he gets back — whenever that is!”

Lily knew this to be the simple truth as she left the café, following Gabriel’s firm footsteps. He knew where he was going, crossing the street after
a stream of cars had passed. They made their way in silence up a green lane, marked only by Gabriel’s insistence on taking Lily’s kit bag. After a five minute walk, they reached a crumbly stone shed at the start of a wide trailhead up into Cedar Mesa. A well-groomed horse and pack mule were tethered there. Gabriel stashed the duffle onto the full carrier saddle bags and fastened them with leather things.

“You want to ride with me?” he asked Lily.

She looked the horse and him over carefully and nodded. He got on and leaned forward to pull her onto the horse, placing her in front. “Hold on,” he cautioned unnecessarily.

Lily looked back once as they moved onto the trailhead, saying a surprisingly pleased farewell to the town she’d made her sanctuary, and the responsibilities she’d shouldered without enthusiasm. Mrs. Blanchard would make a roaring success of the café, Lily’s heedless men folk could enjoy their escape as long as they wanted, and she…

Well, she knew she’d never rue this meeting in Mexican Hat. She had no idea what sort of work she’d take on with this veritable stranger, but she knew this opportunity had come when she’d truly needed it. And, after all, riding off into the morning sun rise with a handsome, mysterious man was the stuff of romances, wasn’t it?

*   *   *

Well, readers, like television programs and serial stories everywhere, it’s time to make a break for the summer. We’re going to reprise and re-run some earlier stories through July and August and return to you later in September with new serial tales from Indian Country. In fact, we’ll be in Indian Country ourselves, visiting Santa Fe, Gallup, Arizona reservations, and the Four Corners region. Until we return, here are some of my favorites, starting again with “The Mad Rabbit of Ramah.” And one pitch from the heart – adopt abandoned animals from shelters when you can. They are God’s creatures and we all need that unconditional love. My three adopted rabbits send their regards! Paula

The landscape north of Monument Valley is both dramatic and unforgiving. This is an area prized by survivalists. Nevertheless, a few communities developed along the San Juan River as it meandered through the southern Utah border with Arizona. One of the most remarkable of these settlements was established as Mexican Hat, although the unusual rock formation it was named for was located some miles down the highway. The small town boasts a hotel and a few other stores, and serves as a starting point location for those who wish to go rafting on the river. Most tourists, however, are impressed by the steep hill that climbs down to the bridge over the river, and the special effect of towering mesas that overlook and atmospherically “weigh down” the scattered habitations of Mexican Hat.

One inhabitant felt rather weighed down this morning, as long shadows still enveloped the small building where she worked. Lily Ramirez swept the floor of Sam’s Café as she’d done all other mornings for months and wondered when, if ever, her brother would return. She hadn’t slept well the previous night but that fact was nothing new. Her caseworker in Cortez had told her this was an expected part of her condition. Time would ease this symptom, so she’d been assured.

She’d had a curing ceremony when she’d returned from Iraq. Her mother’s people lived on the reservation that stretched the land between Bluff and Blanding. Her mother had died when she was a young teenager. Her Hispanic father had taken off on a wild tangent several months ago. Lily’s brother Sam had gone after him and left her to mind the store. She’d heard from him two weeks ago, and nothing since.

It was impossible not to worry. Radames Ramirez had gone to Mexico, and the news was full of bad reports of things gone wrong for those who traveled to the wrong places. Lily wished they hadn’t dumped the burden of the business on her. A neighbor kept offering to take over the small café and had been in almost successful negotiations with her father and brother until their impulsive and abrupt departure. Lily wished she knew if she should wait for news of them or press on with Mrs. Blanchard. She was tempted to do so, for acquiring the café would give the middle aged woman something she wanted, and relieve Lily of an obligation she’d never looked for.

The sun was attempting its rise to a point above the overhanging cliffs. Almost time to open for the first wave of local commuters and eager tourists. As she emptied the last sweepings into a wastebasket, Lily wondered if she’d see the beautiful stranger again. She’d glimpsed him for the first time two weeks ago standing across the street. He’d stood there for some minutes before ambling off toward the hotel. Such a gorgeous man—maybe he was an employee of the river rafting expeditions that took off from the hotel’s grounds.

If he was a new, albeit temporary local, she also wondered why he hadn’t made his way into the café. Everyone else in town did. That brought another deep sigh. Sam was the extrovert of the family; he could talk to anybody at any time. He’d make fans of them, too.

When she checked the coffee urn to see it was fully loaded and on the boil, the bells to the front door jingled. The first customer of the day was the beautiful stranger. Seen up close he was even more dazzling than she’d imagined. Lily was reminded of the Regency romances she’d read avidly as a teenager. This man was tall, slender and muscular at the same time, with a chiseled face that wouldn’t have gone amiss on a statue of the Greek god Apollo. He was sun bronzed, with lines that ran across his forehead and descended down magnificent cheekbones. In fact, he was too good-looking, she decided.

Continued next week

Suddenly, her cell phone shrilled. Matilda jumped, picked it up and spoke, “Hello?” Then, “Hello … yes … yes … how much … I’ll have to go to Albuquerque to release that kind of cash … okay … okay … Gamerco … what?” She bent over a notepad she’d had ready and scribbled. For a moment she frowned, then said, “Okay, park on an end.”

Everyone in the room heard the caller hang up sharply with a clang. Matilda looked at the men with a frown. “Gamerco Shopping Center?”

A half-hour later, her briefing was done. Enditto, still smirking, recommended that Matilda use their back exit to depart. Jim Mulligan, clearing his throat, asked if he could take the rest of the afternoon off. Enditto agreed but ordered him back to the office by 10:30 a.m. the next day.

Matilda, still feeling a bit dazed, left the office to find herself in a narrow back alley. Mulligan appeared behind her, still clearing his throat. She turned back to see him grinning.

“You know why I asked for the day off?”

“No,” she said, conscious of her silly heart doing unmannerly flip-flops.

“So we could spend it together.” And they did. Jim drove her rental car to Albuquerque, where did the errands they needed to complete. Then they ate Mexican food in an Old Town restaurant, laughing and gazing at each other until it was time to return. They drove back under a wonderfully starry sky, and after dropping Jim off at his house in the east end of town, Matilda returned to her hotel near the mall. A sleepy clerk smiled at her as she crossed the lobby.

Her alarm clock went off too soon. Although it was nearly noon, she’d deliberately slept late. She spent a long time in the shower, conscious of a dread which gripped her about the coming showdown. I’m not meant for cloak and dagger work, she thought ruefully. More and more, she was coming to the conclusion that she’d been set up by Roger. Had there been a small conspiracy of sorts to get back at her director and his success? Whatever the plan, she felt inadequate.

In the car, she turned left onto 491 and stopped at the Dairy Queen just past the mall. Yet after ordering a chicken sandwich, she left most of it untouched and the fizzy soda tasted like antacid. Once back in the rental car she found that the Navajo Shopping Center located in Gamerco was only a short distance out of the city limits. Matilda turned right into the driveway and bumped into the center square which served as parking lot. A variety of buildings in varying states of repair formed a square; they ranged from a laundry, an auto repair shop, commercial offices, and a large general store offering groceries and pawn. The lot was surprisingly full but divided into two sections. She found she’d be unable to follow her instructions exactly, since there were no end spots, so she pushed her way into an open space near the middle of one row.

Her hands trembled only a little as she lowered the two front windows and keyed off the ignition switch. Nobody was in sight, so she had to suppress a tiny yelp when the passenger side door was thrown open and Grayson pulled himself into the seat. He shut the door and leaned his elbow on the window ledge. His big frame filled up the space in the car and his proximity felt like both a threat and an invasion.

He was smirking. “You’re a cold **&*%#@.” His casual obscenity hung in the air. He looked around, “You like the neighborhood? While you got to grow up like a princess in some big New England mansion, these folks have always had to make due with less.”

“Why, Mr. Gray, you sound like you have a social conscience,” she said, stung at his smugness.

But he was active all of a sudden, searching her glove compartment, running his hands along the dashboard, under the seats and turning to her with a leer. “Give me your purse.” Taking it form her nerveless hands, he rummaged through the contents, chuckling at the bank envelope. But then he dropped the bag into his lap and said, “Your turn, missy.”

(Continued next week)

Matilda shifted in her seat, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Her floppy hat and sunglasses gave her something to fiddle with on her lap. It had taken a day’s worth of courage to enter the FBI office on Coal Avenue. Gallup’s shopping street was quiet this morning, the sidewalk full of shadows. But after an almost sleepless night, she’d decided to take the advice she’d been given.

The man seated at the desk opposite her was somewhat reassuring. He was a solid figure in a neat dark suit. He was Navajo with hair cut in Anglo fashion, maybe a couple inches too long which signified only that he was careless about such things. His calm opaque brown eyes surveyed her genially. The nameplate on his desk proclaimed him to be Emory Enditto.

“I’ve known Juanita Hawkes since she was a little tadpole of a high school girl babbling about working in law enforcement. She went to UNM up the hill, got more interested in the legal side.” He clasped his hands, his smooth expression signaling it was Matilda’s turn to speak.

She spilled out her story, tumbled it more likely, annoyed that she couldn’t frame a logical narrative. The part about Roy Climmer embarrassed her the most. This professional would label her speculation as being hysterical. But, darn it, her instincts often proved right. She needed to know if she’d been set up; what she’d done already could potentially get her fired.

“That business about Tom Vaughn sure makes me wonder,” Enditto said. “The timing between Climmer giving you the tip and Tom being out of town doesn’t ring right.”

She nodded her head eagerly, glad he’d seen the circumstances as she did. He said he knew Vaughn, but not Climmer. Enditto took up the brown pouch on his desk and pulled back the strings to open the bag and stare inside.

“Well, if Calvin Bitsue told you it came from a grave, I’m inclined to say he’s right. His family comes from a long line of silversmiths. His great uncle was one of Adair’s informants.” For a moment, his eyes twinkled as his statement made Matilda’s head snap back. “Oh yeah, Ms Townshend, you can’t work in Gallup and not know a bit about the jewelry trade. “Indian Jewelry Capital of the World” and all that jazz. Jewelry means big money and that leads to fraud.” He paused for a moment, “How much did he ask you for?”

“Two thousand in fifty dollar bills.”

Enditto whistled. “Well, this bracelet is worth much more than that but he didn’t have any overhead if he stole it. And if it likely came from a grave, we got the means to put him away for a nice long time.”

“I can understand why you’d want to do so,” Matilda said. “I’m just sorry I even got mixed up in all this.”

“Well, I do think you’re way out of your league Ms Townshend, but I appreciate your determination to do the right thing.”

Matilda felt a small wave of panic. Maybe she’d been childish, but she had wanted simply to run to this guy, give him the bracelet, and make tracks on I-40 back to Albuquerque. Helping the FBI was out of her ken indeed.

The door behind them was thrown open abruptly and a tall slender man erupted into the room. “I say, Emory, did you get that file—” He stopped short upon seeing Matilda and his mouth hung open.

To Matilda, the newcomer was more than a welcome interruption, he was a sight unexpected. She felt her mouth drop open to match his gape. “Jim? Jim Mulligan?”

“Do you have a cell phone?” She knew the answer as soon as she asked.

“Nah, I don’t keep up on those plans well, and often I’m in a dead zone anyway,” Gray replied. “But if you want to get hold of me, here’s the number for my friend Pete in Window Rock.” He scribbled a number on a piece of grimy notepad. “I’m only gonna be in the area through Thursday, then I got a job up in Durango.”

Matilda picked up the check and indicated she would pay it. “Thank you, I will check with my employers and be in touch pretty soon.” Satisfied, the lanky man saluted her and made his way out of the restaurant.

She leaned back in her seat and expelled a long breath. His scent hung unpleasantly in the air before being dissipated by stronger breezes from the front door. Grasping the beautiful bracelet, Matilda stroked its sensuous lines and thought how relieved she was this sale was over. She didn’t feel competent at such work; her looks and upbringing told against her in this working class environment. And at the back of her mind something else was stirring. Roy Climmer and Avery Gray.

She looked up when a shadow fell across her booth. The waitress was back, her face pleading. Matilda knew she should speak to her and urged her to sit down.

“I hope you don’t mind, I have no right to interfere, but when I saw you with him, well, I’ve been upset.” She shifted uncomfortably and then put her clasped hands on the table.

“My name’s Juanita Hawkes. I’ve known Avery Grayson since I was a little girl. He was friends with some cousins of mine, and when they hung out with Avery they got themselves in trouble.”

Matilda noted the alteration in the guy’s last name and a wave of conviction made her nod at Juanita and offer her own name softly.

“I guess you’d say his game isn’t as bad as it could be. Small time hustling, he had a phase when he’d go pot hunting, and he did well, too, until some of his partners started to sing to avoid big jail sentences. Avery went off to California for a while and when he came back two years ago, he was supposed to be straight.” Juanita bounced in her seat. “But I think he’s hanging on the edge again. It might be meth, this time.”

Matilda nodded. “I am not comfortable with this assignment, and I am having trouble reconciling why several people are so eager to do me favors.”

“I hope you don’t mind what I’m going to say, but you look and sound like money and class. I don’t think you even mean to, but that’s just what you are.” She looked away for a moment before saying softly, “I think you are someone who could anger people without meaning to.”

Internally, Matilda shivered. She’d never liked to own up to the truth, but she was one leopard who found it hard to change her spots. Even here in this sunny restaurant with its mix of relaxed locals and animated tourists, she felt like she stood out. She didn’t mean to. But the truth was that this environment was not natural to her. For a fleeting moment she felt sorry for herself and then self-preservation took over.

“Can I see it?” Juanita was pointing at the small pouch Matilda had still not tucked into her purse.

To her surprise, Matilda offered her the small package. Juanita examined it carefully, lifting the band only slightly from the pouch as she made her inspection. When she’d finished she said slowly, “I guess you realize this is genuine and very rare. I have another theory about it and I wonder if you’d let me run into the kitchen with this for a moment?”

Matilda found herself suddenly shaken, a bad feeling wending its way up her windpipe. She coughed and hastily took a drink of water. “Okay…” Juanita had already jumped up and was dashing off to the back. Matilda followed her progress with steely eyes, head tilted forward to catch any sound. Nothing for a moment and then she heard raised voices. They cut off suddenly.

(Continued next week)