Leaphorn drained his cup, got up, adjusted his hat.
“I thank you for the help,” he said.
“And you for yours.”
Leaphorn opened the door, admitting a rush of cold air, the rich perfume of autumn, and a reminder that winter was out there somewhere, like the coyote, just waiting.
“All we need to do now—” he said, and stopped, looking embarrassed. “All that needs to be done,” he amended, “is find out if your bones really are my Breedlove, and then find out how the hell he got from that abandoned Land Rover about a hundred fifty miles west, and way up there to where he could fall off of Ship Rock.”
“And why,” Chee said. “And how he did it all by himself.”
“If he did,” Leaphorn said.
4
THE STRANGE TRUCK PARKED
in one of the Official Visitor slots at the Shiprock headquarters of the Navajo Tribal Police wore a New Jersey license and looked to Jim Chee anything but official. It had dual back wheels and carried a cumbersome camper, its windows covered by decals that certified visitation at tourist traps from Key West to Vancouver Island. Other stickers plastered across the rear announced that A BAD DAY FISHING IS BETTER THAN A GOOD DAY AT WORK, and declared the camper-truck to be OUR CHILDREN’S
INHERITANCE. Bumper decals exhorted viewers to VISUALIZE WHIRLED PEAS and to TRY RANDOM ACTS OF
KINDNESS, and endorsed the National Rifle Association. A broad band of silver duct tape circled the camper’s rear panel, sealing the dust out of the joint and giving the camper a ramshackle, homemade look.
Chee stuck his head into Alice Notabah’s dispatcher office and indicated the truck with a nod: “Who’s the Official Visitor?” Notabah nodded toward Largo’s office. “In with the captain,” she said. “And he wants to see you.” The man who drove the truck was sitting in the comfortable chair Captain Largo kept for important visitors. He held a battered black hat with a silver concha band in his lap and looked relaxed and comfortable.
“I’ll catch you later,” Chee said, but Largo waved him in.
“I want you to meet Dick Finch,” Largo said. “He’s the New Mexico brand inspector working the Four Corners, and he’s been getting some complaints.”
Chee and Finch shook hands. “Complaints?” Chee said. “Like what?”
“’Bout what you’d expect for a brand inspector to get,” Finch said, “People missing their cattle. Thinking maybe somebody’s stealing ’em.”
Finch grinned when he said it, eliminating some of the sting from the sarcasm.
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“Yeah,” Chee said, “we’ve been hearing some of that, too.”
Finch shrugged. “Folks always say that nobody likes to eat his own beef. But it’s got a little beyond that, I think. With bred heifers going at sixty dollars a hundred pounds, it just takes three of ’em to make you a grand larceny.” Captain Largo was looking sour. “Sixty dollars a hundred, like hell,” he said. “More like a thousand dollars a head for me. I’ve been trying to raise purebred stock.” He nodded in Chee’s direction. “Jim here is running our criminal investigation division. He’s been working on it.”
Largo waited. So did Finch.
“I’m here on something else now,” Chee said finally. “I think we may have an identification on that skeleton that was found up on Ship Rock.”
“Well, now,” Largo said. “Where’d that come from?”
“Joe Leaphorn remembered a missing person case he had eleven years ago. The man disappeared from Canyon de Chelly but he was a mountain climber.”
“Leaphorn,” Largo said. “I thought old Joe was supposed to be retired.”
“He is,” Chee said.
“Eleven years is a hell of a long time to remember a missing person case,” Largo said. “How many of those do we get in an average month?”
“Several,” Chee said. “But most of ’em don’t stay missing long.” Largo nodded. “So who’s the man?”
“Harold Breedlove was the missing man. He used to own the Lazy B ranch south of Mancos. Or his family owned it.”
“Fella named Eldon Demott owns it now,” Finch said. “Runs a lot of Herefords down in San Juan County. Has some deeded land and some BLM leases and a big home place up in Colorado.”
“What have you got beyond this Breedlove fella’s been missing long enough to become a skeleton and him being a climber?” Largo asked.
Chee explained what Leaphorn had told him.
“Just that?” Largo asked, and thought a moment. “Well, it could be right. It sounds like it is and Joe Leaphorn never was much for being wrong. Did Joe have any notion why this guy left his wife at the canyon? Or why he’d be climbing Ship Rock all by himself?”
