Tuve made an uncertain face. “Long time ago,” he said. “Grandfather probably. Maybe even a great- grandfather. Old, I mean. Lots of white hair. Skinny. Sort of bent over. About as tall as Sergeant Chee there. Not a Hopi, I think. Some other kind of Indian. He had on worn-out blue jeans and a blue shirt and a raggedy jacket, and a gray felt hat. And he had a big wide leather belt with silver-looking conchas on it.”
“How did you happen to meet him?”
Tuve scratched his ear, looked thoughtful. “I was digging out some of that blue clay. Chopping it out with a little thing I got to chop roots with.” He looked at Craig, wondering if she’d understand. “Like that little shovel they use in the army. Short handle.” He illustrated with his hands. “And the shovel part then can fold down.” Another illustration, of folding and chopping. “Got it at one of those military surplus stores, and sharpened it up. Works good. Really cuts roots.”
Tuve looked at Craig, awaiting approval. Didn’t get it. Craig was looking at her watch again.
“And he walked up, or what?”
“He said something, and I looked over and he was standing there watching me dig clay. So I said something friendly. And he came up and wanted to see my digging tool. And I handed it to him and in a minute he said he would trade something to me for it. I said what, and he got a folding knife out of his pocket and showed me that. I said no. He said for me to wait and then he came back with that diamond in a little pouch. And we traded.”
That said, Tuve nodded, looked down at his folded hands. End of story.
“All this talking with this old man,” Craig said. “That was in English, or Hopi, or what?”
Tuve laughed. “I couldn’t understand his words. So it went like this.” He demonstrated with his hand and facial expressions.
“And where did he go after you swapped your shovel for his diamond?” Chee asked.
Tuve shrugged. “Down the canyon a little way, and then around the corner.” He shrugged again.
Craig sighed, shook her head.
Chee cleared his throat, looked at Craig, saw no sign she had another question to ask.
“Do you remember where this happened?” he asked. “I mean, exactly where you were digging the clay?”
“Sure,” Tuve said. “It’s real close to the place we leave prayer sticks and do our prayers for the Salt Mother. Down the river a little ways. Where we always dig that yellow clay for painting.”
“Can you remember how long he was gone before he came back with the diamond?”
Tuve pondered. “It was just a little while.”
“Can you tell us like how many minutes?”
Tuve looked baffled by that.
“Maybe long enough to smoke a cigarette?” Chee suggested. “Or a lot longer than that?”
“Didn’t have any cigarettes,” Tuve said.
“Okay, then,” Chee said. “What did you get done while you waited? How much clay did you dig, for example.”
“Didn’t dig. I got out my water bottle, and I sat down on a sort of rocky shelf there and took a drink, and got my boot off and shook out the sand that got into it and put the boot back on, and then I sort of asked myself why I was sitting there waiting for this old fella when I didn’t really want to trade my digging tool anyway, and got up to go and then he was back.”
“Less than an hour?”
“Lot less than an hour. Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“From what I know about you Hopis,” Chee said, “you have your own special ceremonial trail down to those salt deposits. Is that the one you climbed down on that day?”
Tuve said something in Hopi to Dashee. Dashee nodded, said, “Yes. That’s the one I was telling you about.”
Craig was listening to all this, looking thoughtful.
“Mr. Tuve,” she said. “I want you to take me down there. We have to find that man.”
“Can’t do that,” Tuve said. He laughed. “Not unless you can get into the women’s kiva. Have to be initiated, and that’s after you know all the rules.”
“What are they?”
“Women rules. They don’t tell men.”
“Well, can you tell me a way to get down there? It’s the way to keep you out of jail,” she said. “To find the man who gave you the diamond. We need to get him so he can testify he gave you that.”
Tuve was shaking his head. “Can’t do that,” he said, still smiling. “Against the rules of the kiva.”
“Can’t you just explain it to the bishop, or whatever you call him? He’d understand.”
Tuve’s smile had faded away. He looked extremely serious, thinking. “No,” he said. “Not unless it would be for something the spirits would like.”
Craig stared at him. Checked Chee for comment. Got none. Glanced at Dashee. There was the mutter of thunder, very distant now. Their rainstorm was still drifting eastward.
“Something the spirits would like,” Craig said. “Like helping somebody who has been hurt very bad. Somebody who really needs help. Would they like that?”
