'Gabe,' the woman called impatiently from the doorway of the house.
'Are you coming back inside?'
'After,' Fat Crack replied. 'I will come in after, but first this old man and I are going to talk.'
Chapter Ten
HOW DID MY daddy die?' Davy asked.
Diana Ladd was tucking her son into his bed when he asked the direct, awful question she had dreaded for years. Always before, during oblique conversations, she had skirted the issue, promising herself that if he ever asked straight out, she would be forced to respond in kind. Wanting to protect him, she had rehearsed countless carefully nonjudgmental answers, in hopes that one day Davy would grow up and form his own opinions about his father.
Diana sat down on the edge of the bed and placed one hand on Davy's chest. In the soft glow of the night- light, his eyes were luminous dark pools gazing up at her. She swallowed hard.
'He committed suicide,' she said.
Davy frowned. 'Suicide. What does that mean?'
'Your father killed himself,' Diana answered. 'With a gun.'
'Why? Didn't he love us?'
Davy's ingenuousness wrung at Diana's heart. She fought back tears, and bitter answers as well. 'He didn't know you,' she said gently.
'You weren't even born yet.'
'Well, why did he do it then?'
'He was scared, I guess.'
'About what?'
'About what was going to happen to him. You see, there had been a. .
.' She paused, losing heart, unable to say the word murder aloud.
'There had been an accident,' she finished lamely. 'Your father was afraid of getting into trouble.'
'Did he kill someone?'
Stunned, Diana wondered if Davy had somehow learned the truth. How else could his questions cut so close to the bones of truth? None of this was going the way she'd planned. 'Is that what someone told you?' she asked.
Davy shrugged. 'Not really. I just wanted to know why they called me that.'
. 'Called you what?'
'Me'akam Mad,' he replied.
Diana Ladd knew some Papago, but not nearly as much as Davy. This she didn't recognize at all. 'What does that mean?'
'Killer's Child,' Davy whispered.
Instantly, Diana was outraged. 'Who called you that?'
'Some of the Indian ladies. At the hospital. They thought I didn't understand.'
Not trusting her ability to speak, Diana got up and paced to the window.
She stared out at a star-studded sky over the jagged black shadow of mountain. Even with the cooler running, the house was warm, but she felt suddenly chilled.
'Is it true?' Davy insisted. 'Did my father kill somebody?'
'Yes,' Diana answered at last, abandoning all pretense.
Davy had to be told.
'Who?'
'Her name was Gina, Gina Antone.'
'Rita's granddaughter?'
Diana nodded. 'Yes.'
'But Rita loves us. Why would she if..
Diana turned decisively from the window. 'Davy, listen to me. Your father was there when Gina died, but he didn't do it, and he didn't remember anything that happened. He fell asleep, and when he woke up, she was dead. Another man was there with them-a friend of your father's, a man named Andrew Carlisle. He tried to put all the blame on your father.'
'What happened to him?'
'The other man? To Carlisle?' Davy nodded. 'He went to jail, finally. The state prison. Rita and I saw to it.'
'But he didn't die?'
'No.'
