An Unearthly Undertaking by Constance Barker

Author:Constance Barker [Barker, Constance]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Constance Barker
Published: 2019-01-08T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Cops and Indians

Elle sat next in the passenger seat of Raymond's battered pickup truck as they bounced down a washboard dirt road, throwing up a cloud of dust. She did her best to ignore the fact that the seat belt wouldn't tighten properly.

“Can you tell me anything about the woman who was shot?” Elle asked.

“I can tell you a whole lot about her,” he said. “She grew up right here on the reservation. She went off to college, then law school and when she came back, there was fire in her pretty eyes. She was all set to change our lot in life.”

“Sounds like you like her.”

He chuckled. “I do. The way things go these days, the kids that go away to school either get all self-righteous and idealistic about righting the wrongs done to the tribe, or they decide that hanging out with backward Indians is a losing cause. The tribe gave Sabrina a scholarship with the idea she’d come back and work here, at least for a time, but she was all fired up. A true believer who wanted to right the wrongs of the world.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Elle said.

“Not a damn thing,” Raymond said. “As long as the setbacks don’t get to you and sour that enthusiasm. It’s one thing to settle into taking a longer view of things and another to get bitter.”

“Was she bitter?”

“Not at all. But she is still young. She had learned some things about property and treaties and the like that she thought she could put to use in helping the tribe.”

“How do property rights help you?”

Raymond nodded. “Look around you. Nothing but scrub as far as you can see. What one thing do you think would make the most difference to the welfare of the tribe?”

She looked. Along the roadside, devil winds, tiny swirls, sent up plums of dust. “Water,” she said. “Just staring out there makes me thirsty.”

“Right the first time. And by the way, there is a bottle of water in the glove compartment if you weren’t being metaphorical.”

“I’m seldom metaphorical,” she said, opening it and taking out a small, unopened water bottle. “But this is yours.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I grew up thirsty.” As she drank, she tried, and failed, to imagine living here. “Sabrina was on the trail of a property claim that she said was made out but never filed correctly. A couple of years ago the county seat in Gallup sent over all the papers they had that related to the tribe. They’d been stored for years and never looked at. Got to be a fire hazard, so they sent them to us. Sabrina was sure she’d find proof there that we’d been deeded land with water on it, but it never got recorded.”

“And it’s nearby?”

“Abuts the reservation. It’s part of some that’s under the Bureau of Land Management and they let local ranchers graze on—have for years. It got swept up as land that had never been claimed. The fact that

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