Shooting Chant by Aimée & David Thurlo

Author:Aimée & David Thurlo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A Tom Doherty Associates Book

THIRTEEN

Ella left the station in her Jeep, and immediately rolled down her window. She felt sick. Allowing the fresh air to hit her face helped, but the feeling persisted as the Anglo man’s face stayed before her mind’s eye. Suddenly Ella began to tremble uncontrollably. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make it stop. Taking short, shuddering breaths, she pulled to the side of the road and took the vehicle out of gear.

With effort, Ella finally managed to bring herself under control without emptying the contents of her stomach. Navajos saw death as failure to grow, the end of all possibilities, and that’s what she’d taken from the Anglo stranger. Sorrow gnawed at her, though the Anglo had given her no other choice.

She remained parked for several more minutes before finally continuing to the motel on the main highway near Kirtland. It was just a few miles north of the reservation border, and business was brisk. The motel had a bar and lounge for people who liked to stop for a drink, and was handy, because no businesses had liquor permits inside the reservation.

Ella went inside, and walked over to the front desk of the small lobby.

The woman looked at the photo Ella handed her then cringed. “I’ve never seen that guy. I just started working here yesterday afternoon, and I didn’t check him in. But you might try the lounge. The employees there might recognize a guest or regular customer.”

Ella asked for the name of the motel guest in room 110, and the clerk identified him as Tom LaPoint, which was no surprise. Undeterred, Ella went into the lounge and flashed the bartender her ID. The name tag on the woman’s uniform identified her as Barbara Sanchez.

“You’re out of your jurisdiction, so you must want to buy a drink, right?” the woman behind the bar challenged.

“I want some answers.” Ella showed her the photo. “Have you ever seen this man?”

The woman made a choking sound and, for a moment, Ella was sure she was going to burst into tears. “So, you do know him,” Ella said gently.

“His name was Tom, but I don’t know his last name,” Barbara Sanchez said in a shaky voice. “He came in several times these past few days and would usually have a rum and cola, or a draft and some nuts.”

“Did you go out with him?”

“No. I’m not supposed to date the guests and customers.”

“Okay, so I won’t tell anyone. Did you date him anyway?” Ella pressed.

“I would have, had he asked me, but he never did. I think he might have … eventually. He was a little shy.” She stared at the bar, purposely looking away from the photo.

Ella slid the photo back in the envelope. “Did anyone ever meet him here?”

She shrugged. “He met friends briefly a few times, but mostly he came in alone and left alone.”

“Who did he meet here? Can you give me any names?”

“I don’t know who they were. One was a Navajo man who wore a Kansas City Chiefs’ cap.

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