'I wonder why Hosteen Policeman looks at me,' she said. 'Are you going to arrest me?'
Leaphorn returned the smile. 'I would if I thought you could tell me anything.'
'Who are you after? What do you want to know?'
'I'd like to know all about a witch,' Leaphorn said.
'I'll bet you don't even believe in witches.'
'I believe in a witch who used to wear a big black Stetson hat until somebody got it away from him.'
'That was Billy Nez,' the girl had said. There it was, as simple as that. Billy Nez was around here somewhere (the girl glanced over her shoulder into the darkness, frowning).
'I'd like to talk to Hosteen Nez,' Leaphorn said.
'So would I. I caught him and made him dance and he just paid me twenty-five cents. And he said he'd let me catch him again.' The girl frowned into the darkness again and then looked up at Leaphorn. 'But he's no Hosteen yet. He's just a boy.'
'How old is just a boy?'
'He's just sixteen.'
And you're about fifteen, Leaphorn thought, and if Billy Nez isn't careful his clan is going to lose itself a boy, and a bride's price to boot.
'Just a boy,' Leaphorn said.
'But he's the one who got the hat. Billy was the Scalp Carrier. He followed that man's pickup, and he watched from where the witch couldn't see him, and when he went away Billy was the one who got the scalp.'
And that seemed to be exactly all the girl knew about it. She knew Nez was Red Forehead, and that he raised sheep with his uncle over on Cotton-wood Flats near Chinle, and that he was wearing a red-checked shirt and a red baseball cap, and some of the other things that fifteen-year-old girls learn about sixteen-year-old boys. And then suddenly the pot drums and the chanting stopped, and there were much haggling and laughing and banter as the women collected their ransom fees. Leaphorn gave the girl a dollar.
'That's the most I got all night,' she said. But she wouldn't come with him to point out Nez.
Leaphorn spotted the Carrier of the Scalp a half hour later. The Sway Dancing had started then and he saw Nez in his ball cap among the line of dancers from the Stick Receiver's camp. The rhythm was faster now and the rising, falling in sound of the voices was as old as the earth. But the words were about a rocket.
'Belacani's rocket fell on the mesa,' the singers chanted.
And then the line of men from the patient's camp began the rhythmic swaying and the words changed.
'Belacani's rocket start the brush burning.'
Track down the man who started that one, Leaphorn thought, and you'd find the missile the Army spent half the winter looking for four years ago. Trouble was it would be easier to find the missile than the song writer.
But he had, at least, found Billy Nez, and now the dancing was over for a time and Nez was walking toward him, talking to a younger boy who, Leaphorn guessed, would be his cousin.
'My nephew,' Leaphorn said, 'I would like to talk for a moment with the man who carried the scalp.'
Billy Nez looked surprised and pleased. But, Leaphorn noticed, he also moved his hand toward his shirt front to touch his medicine pouch with its gallstone proof against witches. One was careful of strangers at an Enemy Way.
'I myself am a policeman,' Leaphorn said. 'It is sometimes my business to track people and it would be good for me to hear how you tracked this Wolf.'
The boy looked down. 'It was nothing very much,' he said. And then, remembering his manners, added, 'My uncle.' For the first time in a long day, Leaphorn felt he was handling someone exactly right.
'And yet nobody else got the scalp for this Sing. It was you, Hosteen Nez.'
'Billy tracked him three days,' the younger boy said. He grinned at Leaphorn. 'I'm Billy's uncle's son.'
'We might sit here by this pickup and smoke,' Leaphorn said. He took a cigarette and handed the pack to the younger boy. And when the pack came to Billy Nez he took a cigarette, and lit it, and told Joe Leaphorn everything he knew. And he started, as Leaphorn knew he would start, from the beginning.
The witch had first come around the summer hogans of his uncle at mid-spring not long after his uncle's family had driven the sheep up from the winter grazing in the Chinle Valley to the summer range in the Lukachukais.
Two days after they had settled down, he and the two boys were driving the sheep up there on the plateau. His uncle was driving his own sheep and the boys were driving his uncle's wife's sheep. And they saw this truck coming across this arroyo there. It wasn't really a truck. More like a jeep, only bigger and with a cloth top on it.
'Was it a Land-Rover?' Leaphorn said.
'I don't know,' Billy Nez said. 'I never saw another one like it. It was gray.'
The Big Navajo had left Shoemaker's store in a Land-Rover, Leaphorn thought. Gray and hard to see and I wonder if that's a coincidence.
The truck had stopped at first and his uncle had seen the driver looking at them. And then it drove up and the man asked my uncle where he was taking those sheep and how long he was going to keep them in that high country. His uncle had said all summer and the man had asked if he didn't know there was a witch cave up in that country and a bunch of wolves up there that got after people that came into their territory.
Billy Nez took a long drag on his cigarette, inhaled, and then blew out the smoke.
'What'd your uncle say?' Leaphorn asked, and was instantly irked with himself for his impatience.
