Star Gift

Chapter Six

There were scattered houses out across the broad landscape. Climbing higher on the road, half way to the top of one of the table-like mesas, a narrow driveway curved up to an adobe house among an outcropping of large boulders. A boney jackrabbit suddenly darted out in front of them and quickly disappeared behind the fieldstones. From this elevated point Blake could see the small town of Kayenta below them and the full expanse of the rust colored desert and plateaus in the distance. The darkening sky was prominent behind the small, two-level house, and soon the first bright stars would be twinkling clearly in the heavens.

"This here is the house of Jasper Sani," Ranger Dan told them. "He's an elder of our Navajo community and a senior member of the Navajo council. These guys oversee all our lands out here. You have to know. he's also a shaman . . . and that's an honor with our people. It requires special respect.

"OK," Blake said as the Bronco came to a stop and Dan turned off the powerful engine.

"I honestly don't know how he's going to treat you two," the Ranger said softly. "So don't expect much, alright?"

"That's cool," Blake answered. "I'm just glad to meet him."

Dan got out of the vehicle and Blake and Russel followed up to the blue door of the partially wood and adobe-walled house. The dwelling was Hopi-style and seemed to blend in with the environment well. Aside from a clothesline with colorful articles of apparel hanging from it nearby, it could have looked presently vacant with its small, shuttered windows.

Dan did not need to knock on the door as he approached it. It opened quickly and an elderly man of short stature and a weathered face appeared framed in the doorsill. He had long gray braids on either side of his head and wore a silver and turquoise neckless of considerable size and weight. His white shirt was loose-fitting and slightly soiled. He sported faded jeans and a pair of worn eather sandals.

"Jasper, these here are the boys I told you about. They want to share something with you. Something they say . . . they found."

Blake felt his mouth dry and swallowed with difficulty as he stepped forward. He held out his hand but the old man did not take it.

"Come in," he said quietly, under his breath.

They followed Jasper into the main room. It was ablaze with colorful masks on the walls, deer antlers, and an oak wood floor covered by rugs with geometric designs which ran over to a corner fireplace. He directed the three of them to sit in wooden chairs, seemingly already set up for their arrival. Jasper took a seat across from them.

"What's this all about?" he asked in a serious voice, looking accusingly at Russel.

Blake could not get over how quiet it was outside, so far away from the town.

"My father was the man who was killed out here, recently" he said to break the silence and bring the attention to himself. "I came to collect his things this week. But there was really nothing. Mostly just rubbish. Then, in another location, I came across a lot of other stuff . . . objects and photos he must have collected over the years. Pretty shocking stuff."

The old man was motionless, expressionless. But his blue eyes were wise and piecing.

"And well . . . I just want someone to tell me why.  Why he was murdered. What those things I saw today . . . have to do with him."

"Your father was a good man," the shaman finally said, somberly. "I knew him many years. He was allowed to live here with us. On our land. A trusted soul with the council. In a world where not many souls can be trusted."