“I think Mr. Delos deserves a decent burial,” Delonie said. “He dug a nice little grave out there for you, Tommy.
I think we should let him use it.”
Leaphorn had been thinking the same thing. “Better than just leaving him out for the coyotes and the ravens,” he said. “We could say a little prayer over him.”
“I don’t think he would have cared about that,” Tommy Vang said.
They slid Delos off the porch, Tommy carrying his legs, Leaphorn holding his shoulders, sat him beside the grave, and slid him sideways into it. The body lay on its right side, legs folded. Delonie picked up the shovel, handed it to Leaphorn.
“I think we should let Mr. Delos take his luggage with him,” Leaphorn said.
“Oh,” Delonie said. And laughed. “I guess we wouldn’t 262
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want the ranch cleanup crew to worry about his driving off and leaving all his stuff behind. That would cause a lot of trouble.” He secured the shovel and handed it to Leaphorn. “Tommy, why don’t you look around in there and bring out his bag, or his shaving stuff, or whatever he brought with him. Want to leave the place tidy.” Wordlessly, Tommy stepped back onto the porch and disappeared into the cabin. Leaphorn followed him, picked up the 30-30, returned with it, and tossed it into the grave beside the body.
“Hey!” Delonie shouted. “That’s my rifle.”
“Was it?” Leaphorn said, staring at him. “Folks out of prison on parole are not allowed to have guns. Violates the parole. If you get down there and get it, I guess I’ll have to take you in. Turn you over to your parole officer.”
“Well, then,” Delonie said, and shrugged.
Tommy appeared carrying a large satchel in one hand and a small briefcase in the other. He sat the satchel on the porch, nodded to Leaphorn, and displayed the case. “When he travels, this is the one he carries to keep his special money in,” he said. “There’s money in it now.” Leaphorn took the case, clicked it open, looked in. The money was there, in bundles secured by rubber bands. He took one out, checked it. All fifties. Delonie, who had been watching this, said, “Wow!” Leaphorn pulled the satchel over, opened it, and checked the contents. He found clothing, toiletries, electric razor, spare shoes, nothing unusual. He looked at Delonie, whose eyes were still focused on the briefcase.
“I think we will keep the satchel out,” he said.
Delonie grinned. “I agree.”
“Maybe there is enough in there to give Tommy Vang THE SHAPE SHIFTER
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something to live on when he gets back to Laos and his mountains,” Leaphorn said. “And I am going to take out two of those fifty-dollar bills to pay Grandma Peshlakai for that pinyon sap he stole from her, and two more to pay her for about thirty years of interest.” Shoveling in the pile of humus took less than five minutes. Toppling the stone slab, with Delonie helping out with his undamaged arm, took only seconds. Leaphorn stepped back. It had worked even better than he expected. He spent another few moments collecting leaves, pine needles, and assorted debris, and scattering it in places that looked unnaturally fresh. Then he stepped back, inspected it, and said: “Finished.”
“What we do now?” Tommy asked.
“We get Mr. Delonie to a doctor, and then we go home.”
“Back to Flagstaff ?” Tommy asked.
“There first,” Leaphorn said, “because you have to pack your stuff and make your reservations and all that.
And then—”
“And then I go home,” Tommy said.
23
Daylight now, the sun just up, and Tommy Vang driving.
Driving a little too fast for this road, Leaphorn thought, but Leaphorn was just too worn out to object. They bumped along down the creek, across the culvert, through the gate they’d vandalized, and back on the bumpy gravel.
Delonie groaned now and then from his back seat location when they jarred over a rough place. Otherwise, it was quiet in the truck. Not that there was nothing to say.
It was a matter of being too tired for conversation.
Leaphorn yawned, rubbed his eyes.
“If I doze off, Tommy, you need to remember when we get to Lumberton you have to take the left turn. Toward Dulce. We stop at the Jicarilla Health Clinic there. Leave Mr. Delonie with them.”
“Like hell,” Delonie said. “You go off and leave me, how do I get back to my place?”
“Somebody will offer to take you,” Leaphorn said.
“They’re generous people.”
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“Oh, yeah. That’s not what I’ve heard you Navajos say about the Apaches.”
