The First Eagle

Did Nez work for you?'

'Yes. Part-time for several years. He'd put out the traps, and check them, and collect the rodents. Take care of all such things.'

'I understand you checked him into the hospital. Did you tell the people there where Nez was infected?'

'I didn't know.'

'Not even a general idea?'

'Not even that,' Woody said. 'He'd been in several places. Here and there. Fleas get into people's clothing. You carry them around. You're not sure when you get bit.' Leaphorn weighed that against his own experience. He had been bitten by fleas more than once. Not very painful, but something you noticed.

'When did you notice he was sick?'

'It would have been the evening before I checked him in. He had driven in that morning to do some things, and after we ate our supper he said he had a headache. No other symptoms and no temperature, but you don't take chances in this business. I gave him a dose of doxycycline. Next morning, he still had a headache, and he was also running a temp. It was a hundred and three. I took him right to the hospital.'

'How long does it usually take between the infected flea bite and those sort of symptoms?'

'Usually about four or five days. The longest I know of is sixteen days.'

'What was the shortest?'

Woody thought. 'I've been told of a two-day case, but I have my doubts. I think an earlier flea bite caused that one.' He paused. 'Here,' he said. 'Let me show you another slide.'

He opened a filing case, pulled out a box of slides, selected one and inserted it into the microscope.

'Take a look at this.'

Leaphorn looked. He saw the ovoid cells of the plague bacteria and the rounder specimens of the evolved bacteria. Only the blood cells looked different.

'It looks almost the same,' he said.

'You have a good eye,' Woody said. 'It is almost the same. But this slide is from a blood sample I took from Nez when I took his temperature.'

'Oh,' Leaphorn said.

'Two things are important here. From the onset of the fever to death was less than three days. That's far too short a time for the standard Yersinia bacteria to kill. And the second—' Woody paused for effect, grinning at Leaphorn.

'Charley is still alive,' he said.

Chapter Seventeen

IT HAD TAKEN ACTING LIEUTENANT Jim Chee about a year to learn the three ways of getting things done in the Navajo Tribal Police. Number one was the official system. The word, neatly typed on an official form, worked its way up through the prescribed channels to the correct level, and then down again to the working cops. In number two, the midlevel bureaucrat whom Chee had now become telephoned friends at the Window Rock headquarters and the various substations, explained what he needed done, and either called in lOUs or asked for a favor. Chee learned quickly that number three was the fastest. There, one outlined the problem to the proper woman in the office and asked her for help. If the asker had earned the askee's respect, she would get the really savvy folks at work on the project—the female network.

Since racing back to his Tuba City office from his meeting with the Legendary Lieutenant Leaphorn, Chee was using all three systems to make sure that if Catherine Pollard's missing Jeep could be found, it would be found in a hurry. Until it was—in fact, until Pollard herself was found—Chee knew he wouldn't have a comfortable moment. He'd be haunted by the thought that he might be hanging Jano for a crime he hadn't committed. Jano had done it, of course. He'd seen him do it. Or practically had, and there was no alternative. But what had been an open-and- shut case in his mind now had a crack in it. He had to close it.

Therefore, when he walked into the Tuba City station, he went directly to the office of Mrs. Dineyahze and explained to her how important it was to find the vehicle. 'All right,' she said, 'I'll call around. Get some people off their rear ends.'

'I'd appreciate it,' Chee said. He didn't explain to Mrs. Dineyahze what should be done, which was one of the reasons she liked him.

He hadn't noticed that Officer Bernadette Manuelito had come through the open door of the secretary's office and was standing behind him.

She said, 'Can I help?' which was exactly what Bernie often said. Nor did how she looked surprise him, which was shirt wrinkled, hair sort of disheveled, lipstick slightly askew and—despite all that—very feminine and very pretty.

Chee looked at his watch. 'Thanks, but you're off-duty now, Bernie. And tomorrow's your day off.'

He didn't think that would have much effect, since Bernie did pretty much what she wanted to do. But he could hear the telephone clamoring for attention in his office, and so was the stack of paperwork he'd abandoned this morning. He headed for the door.

'Lieutenant,' Bernie said. 'My family is having a kinaalda starting next Saturday for Emily—that's my cousin. Over at Burnt Water. You'd be welcome.'

'Golly, Bernie, I'd like to. But I don't think I can get away from here.'

Bernie looked downcast. 'Okay,' she said.

The telephone call was to remind him not to be late for a coordination meeting with people from the BIA Law and Order staff, the Coconino County Sheriff's Office, the Arizona Highway Patrol, the FBI and the Drug Enforcement Agency. While he listened, he could overhear Mrs. Dineyahze discussing the impending puberty ceremonial with