Double Blind Page 18

  Kai jerked open the door to the office, barreled through, then stood staring at Canaan as the door slammed shut behind him. Canaan feared for the frosted glass in the windowpanes.

  “You didn’t come to my party,” Kai said.

  “I’m sorry. I thought it was only for you and your kids.”

  “Betsy made a giant taco with fry bread, thick as my arm. Everybody at the party got some.” He sank down into the chair in front of Canaan’s desk.

  Canaan leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “I can tell you have something besides birthday parties on your mind.”

  “Tanya was there,” Kai said.

  “I know. She was invited, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her she couldn’t go.”

  “She going to be okay? She didn’t look so good.”

  “It’ll take her some time to recover.”

  “You sure she’s recovered?” Kai leaned closer. “The principal died of some kind of virus. April mentioned she saw a mouse in their cottage last week. What if Tanya’s got something contagious?”

  “Do you have any reason to suspect she has?” Canaan asked.

  “It isn’t up to me to find that out.”

  “Do you know how many viruses there are? It’s impossible to check everyone who gets sick for every possible infection, and they’re difficult to isolate.”

  “What about plague? Hantavirus? The usual?”

  “If Tanya had either of those she’d be worse instead of better.”

  “Did they check her out there at the hospital yesterday?”

  Canaan suppressed an exasperated sigh. “For what, Kai? We have nothing to go on. No one else at the school is sick, and so this problem with Tanya is obviously not contagious.”

  “If you don’t think she’s contagious, why did you let her move out of her dorm?”

  “I feel she needs some adult attention.”

  “From the only white woman on campus? Why?”

  Canaan felt a flash of defensive anger. “She’s with Sheila, Kai. You know Sheila. She’s not going to hurt Tanya, for Pete’s sake, and she’s a nurse. If you’re worried about the child’s health, you should be glad she’s in the care of a medical professional.”

  “How does Sheila feel about having some strange child forced on her before she can even get her bearings?”

  “She agreed to keep Tanya.”

  “I didn’t ask what she agreed to, I asked how she felt about it.”

  Canaan studied Kai’s expression, the arms crossed over his chest defensively. “I haven’t had the impression that you would be concerned about Sheila’s feelings over anything.”

  “If she resents Tanya moving in with her, that could be hard on Tanya.”

  “Believe me, Tanya will not hesitate to let me know if that turns out to be the case.”

  “If Johnny Jacobs knew—”

  “He’ll know about it as soon as I tell him, unless you decide to beat me to it.” Canaan took a slow, measured breath and let it out. Kai was a driving force in this school, and Canaan appreciated him. Still, sometimes the man tended to overstep his authority. Yet if Canaan had been an authority figure here as long as Kai, he would have the same attitude, he was sure.

  “I’m just curious why you didn’t have Tanya move in with one of our own.”

  “Our own?” Canaan snapped. “Sheila is one of our own, Kai. Would you at least give this situation some time?”

  Kai studied him, his granite face showing no expression for the moment. “If that’s the way you want it, fine. Now tell me about today’s newcomers.”

  Canaan resented Kai’s assumption that he had the right to grill him this way. “Preston Black and Blaze Farmer are friends of Sheila’s from Missouri who have volunteered their time and expertise to help us get the clinic and this office organized.”

  “If you needed help, why didn’t you ask for it here at the school, instead of sending for it from another state?”

  “I didn’t ask, but it was offered, and I’ve accepted it.”

  “Where are they staying? The dorms are full. Sheila took the last apartment and—”

  “They’re staying with me, Kai. I’ve got a guest bedroom.”

  It was obvious this news didn’t sit well with Kai, but Canaan doubted anything would at this moment.

  “Tell me, Canaan, how were you treated when you went to college?” Kai asked.

  “I was treated very well.”

  “That’s hard to believe. You never heard any remarks about us ‘educated Indians’?” Kai’s lip curved in a sneer. “It wasn’t suggested that ‘heathens’ like us didn’t have enough brains to think for ourselves?”

  “Those are ignorant opinions of ignorant people a long time ago. Things have changed.”

  “You’re telling me you didn’t feel it, too?”

  “Sure, I felt it from both sides,” Canaan said. “Many of my classmates believed I was receiving special privileges because of financial incentives and grants in college. Many others treated me with honor I didn’t deserve, specifically because I was part Navajo.”

  “You trying to tell me that didn’t affect you?”

  “I became more suspicious of people who were kind to me, and less patient with those who were unkind simply because of my blood. I try not to let it get in the way of my job performance.”

  “Then you were one of the lucky ones, because it affected my whole career. At the university in Flagstaff, I was blessed with a Hopi professor who hated me because I was Navajo. He influenced the university bureaucrats to have me blacklisted, the same kind of thing the Hopi are doing to us here on the reservation.” Kai sat rigid with remembered anger, as if four and a half decades had dropped away. “That’s what racial prejudice did for me.”

  “And so now you’re doing the same thing to Sheila,” Canaan said. “Didn’t you learn from that experience?”

  Kai shook his head. “I’m not trying to take all this out on her.”

  “You could’ve fooled me.”

  “I just don’t want people from other cultures coming to this school and ingratiating themselves with our kids. We have enough trouble keeping the younger ones on the reservation as it is.”

  “I heard you once tried to leave the reservation. How can you blame others for the same desire?”

  “I wanted to be a physician. The initials M.D. would have earned me acceptance into the white man’s world. I was premed all the way, and I made the grades. I graduated early and was told that I’d been given glowing recommendations.” Kai’s short, thick fingers dug into the deep pile of the chair. “But no med school would even consider me. So don’t talk to me about racial prejudice.”

  “Do you hate it here so much?” Canaan asked.

  Kai looked down at his hands, and his grip eased on the chair. “No.”

  “You love the kids, and they obviously love you. I don’t know many kids who go to all that trouble for their teacher’s birthday.”

  Kai returned Canaan’s gaze. “People change. I’ve changed over the years.”

  “Maybe you should think about changing a little more,” Canaan said gently.

  Kai held his look for a long moment, then looked away. “You’ll have trouble if the parents find out Tanya’s staying with Sheila.”

  “Times have changed, Kai. You’re looking too far into the past.”

  Kai shook his head and got up. “It’s no use talking to you, is it? You’re not going to listen.”

  “I wish you’d listen to yourself for a moment, Kai. You’re a Christian. You know we are commanded to bless our enemies and forgive them. Sheila isn’t even the enemy. You’ve allowed a root of bitterness to grow inside you, and it’s affecting everything around you. Why can’t you let it go?”

  For a moment, Kai stood still, staring at the door. “I’m getting old, Canaan. Some things are still hard to change.”

  “Try, okay? Sheila’s done nothing to deserve your resentment.”

  Kai shot him a sharp glance. “It isn�
�t Sheila as much as…” He shook his head, pulled the door open and left, letting the door slam shut behind him.

  Canaan made a note on the pad in front of him. He had a meeting to attend in Flagstaff at the university next weekend. Old Doctor Whitter was a professor there, and he was Hopi. He’d been there for probably fifty years and was likely to have had Kai Begay in a class or two. Maybe he even knew something about Kai’s bitter anger. It was time to find out.

  Preston carried a stack of files through the sliding-glass door of Canaan York’s apartment onto the second-floor balcony, shaded from the sun by a vine trellis overhead and several potted cacti along the perimeter. The temperature here was probably about the same as in Missouri, but the dryness of the air made it feel ten to twenty degrees cooler, especially out here, with the breeze coming in across the desert.

  With the frenetic pace of the day, there had been no chance for Preston to really talk to Canaan. After giving a tour of the campus, the doctor-turned-principal had handed Preston a stack of files and explained that his predecessor had been in the process of compiling the year-end financial report. Canaan, who did not have a head for finances, had been shoving the project aside until he could find time for it.

  Judging by the lack of organization Preston had seen in the files, he gathered that Canaan intended to pay a CPA to attack the mess when the need became too great to ignore.

  An expensive option.

  Canaan had said that Preston and Blaze’s arrival was an answer to prayer, but Preston dismissed that. He didn’t remember anyone ever before implying that he was an answer to prayer.

  In the files, Preston found some discrepancies that he thought could be explained if he had more information. At the moment, however, it appeared that several of the staff weren’t salaried, but worked for room and board and a minimal stipend every month. Kai Begay was one. So was Betsy Two Horses and Jane Witherbe. Doc Cottonwood also earned a particularly low income, and though none of the staff was paid enough to build a comfortable retirement, these people appeared to be at this school simply for the joy of serving the kids.

  When Preston had first discovered the anomaly, he’d thought he must be missing something. Perhaps stock options were being provided, or another incentive he hadn’t yet discovered. Thinking about it, he supposed it was possible for the staff to see the work purely as a labor of love—the way he did with his cabin in the woods—to be dedicated to the jobs and the children they served. But what if something else was going on?

  As he continued to ponder this puzzle, he heard voices down at the edge of the campus. A man in red gym shorts and a white T-shirt with a coyote insignia across the chest called to the children who ran in a line beside him.

  “That’s right, Jamey, swing your arms,” the man said. “Swing them hard. You, too, April. See how those vitamins helped?”

  Moving his chair closer to the edge, Preston peered through the cactus screen and saw a tall, dark-haired boy and a very skinny girl about the same age as Tanya Swift.

  The boy’s face reddened beneath the deep brown of his skin, which already dripped moisture. This one was a fast runner, but he obviously wasn’t focused on what he was doing. He tripped twice, and nearly ran over the coach.

  “Watch it, Jamey,” the man snapped. “You’ve got to concentrate, watch where you’re going, make every step count.”

  “Sorry, Doc.”

  The man named Doc turned to shoot a fierce frown at his one lagging team member, far behind the others. “Dahlia, what’s this talk about winning a race this year? You couldn’t beat a rock at that pace.”

  The girl placed her hand on her abdomen and grimaced.

  He sighed. “You want to run in a competitive team, you can’t let anything get in the way. Push past it,” he called over his shoulder, increasing the pace. “Come on, you’ll feel better if you get moving. Okay, everybody, pick it up. Keep up with me. Our people are nothing without speed. Run with the coyote. Visualize. You’re the coyote, chasing your prey across the earth.”

  They ran faster, faster, breathing heavily, kicking hard over a dirt track that wound out into the desert, then back again. Even Dahlia kept up, carried by the cadence of the coach’s voice.

  Preston found himself wishing he could run into the desert, feeling the warm sun on his skin, the sweat of exertion, the thrill of the race. There was something about this place—so vastly open and overwhelmingly silent that the shouts of the coach, voices of the runners and laughter of the children on the playground seemed inconsequential.

  How different it was from the Ozarks. The distances were deceptive here, the spaces so great. In Hideaway, a half-dozen varieties of birdcalls could be heard at one time, along with the splash of fish in the lake, the roar of boat motors and the voices of neighbors hailing one another. Here, the calls of birds and children seemed hushed by the very atmosphere.

  The coach called, “Okay, cooldown time. Let’s walk.” He seemed satisfied, at last, with his runners.

  The dust quickly settled as the runners caught their breath. The skinny girl with short black hair and skinny arms and legs started giggling and whispering to Dahlia. Her voice grew louder, and in spite of himself, Preston strained to hear what she said.

  “See that?” She pointed toward a column of drifting smoke on the horizon.

  “Sure I do,” Dahlia said. “The death hogan is out there. Is that where the smoke is coming from?”

  The skinny girl nodded. “That means somebody’s being called.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It means someone at the school will run out to the hogan tonight.”

  “But why?”

  “For the special ritual that will help whoever is called to run better than ever before. You must never follow its call on your own, but when you’re called, you must go.”

  “Have you ever been called?”

  “No, but I will.”

  “Why is the hogan haunted?” Dahlia asked.

  “An old chanter died there many years ago, and his bones were found months later. The entrance was boarded up, but later someone came, took the boards away, and then left the valley forever—to escape ghost sickness. Now whoever is called and goes there comes back with special powers.”

  “But isn’t anyone who goes there afraid of ghost sickness?”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “April, that’s enough,” came the sharp voice of the coach. “Concentrate on your breathing. Enough chatter.”

  Preston sat back in his chair. Haunted hogans, ghost sickness, special powers? He was certainly a long way from home.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  B etsy Two Horses freed her braid from the hairnet and left her helpers preparing dinner. She sat down alone in the empty dining room with her taco. She never had time to eat when the others did; there was always someone wanting her to fix something special, someone wanting her to tell a story or explain something about the old ways. She hated to talk and eat. That was why she stayed so skinny—there was always someone who needed her time.

  Even as she raised her taco to her mouth, the dining room door opened with a quiet swish. She turned, then dropped her food back on the plate when she saw the beautiful woman with the large, sad eyes.

  Sheila waved at Betsy from across the dining room. “Got some time? I need to ask you a few questions.”

  Betsy nodded. Some time. Not a lot.

  “Go ahead and eat.”

  “I plan to,” Betsy said, though she was already losing her appetite for the taco. She had tried a new flour for the fry bread, and it tasted too sweet to her.

  She must be getting old; nothing tasted good to her anymore.

  She took a few small bites while Sheila went into the supply room that was used by the staff to stock their apartments—items such as paper towels, coffee, soap, laundry detergent and toilet paper were always on hand. By the time Sheila returned with a paper bag filled with supplies, Betsy had pushed her plate away.

  Sheila sat
down across the table. “I’d like to visit with you, but I can’t stay long. Tanya Swift is staying with me for a while, and I don’t want her to be alone.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “With Canaan.”

  “I heard rumors about her staying with you,” Betsy said.

  “Word seems to have spread quickly. I don’t see why it’s a big deal.”

  “Neither do I, but others may hurt you and Tanya with their words.”

  “You mean like your helper, Steve?” Sheila gestured toward the kitchen serving window, where Steve Hunt worked in front of the stove. “He doesn’t try to hide his resentment when I’m around. I’ll get used to it. I just wish the children wouldn’t taunt Tanya for staying with a biligaana.”

  Betsy grunted. “Since she received no punishment for running away…” She shrugged.

  “She was punished, Betsy. Believe me.” Sheila’s fingers absently toyed with the cross at her throat.

  Betsy had yet to see Sheila without that necklace. “You seem to like that thing,” she observed.

  Sheila’s movements stilled. Betsy noticed her eyes had darkened to a deep golden color, almost brown.

  “Your eyes were that color a lot just before your Dad packed up and moved you to Missouri,” she told Sheila.

  “My eyes?” Sheila shook her head, not comprehending.

  “They darken when you’re upset.”

  “You remember that?” Sheila leaned forward, as if she’d been waiting for this opening. “What else do you remember? You knew my parents well.”

  Betsy nodded. “They were hard workers. So were you, doing well in school, playing well with the other kids.”

  “What was it like here then?”

  “A lot like it is now, except the buildings were old, falling apart, overrun with mice. The people were the same. Most of the staff has remained over the years.”

  “What was my mother like?”

  Betsy frowned. “Your mother? You were old enough you should be able to remember her well.”

  Sheila grimaced and shook her head.