“The people who had killed the two boys were worried when the boys came back. They called a council. They didn’t invite Little Bear and Little Lion to join them, but the two dead boys came anyway, bringing the tobacco with them. When the people sat in the circle, the two boys sat there, too. Coyote was there and told them they should light the tobacco and pass it to the person next to them, saying ‘ Nawoj, ’ which means ‘friend’ or ‘friendly gift.’ And that’s the origin of the Tohono O’odham’s peace smoke.”
“As opposed to the peace pipe in all those cowboy movies.”
Nodding, Lani held up Looks at Nothing’s venerable old leather pouch in one hand and the hand-rolled cigarette in the other. “That’s what I have here.”
“Wild tobacco?” Delia asked warily. Her first husband had returned from his round of powwow travels with a penchant for smoking peyote, and the results of that had been nothing short of disastrous. “That’s all it is- tobacco?”
Lani nodded. “Botanists will tell you it’s really called Nicotiana trigonophylla, and that’s all it is, Indian tobacco. It was harvested and dried the same way Little Lion and Little Bear’s grandmother told them to; the same way Fat Crack taught me; the same way Looks at Nothing taught him.”
“But what’s it doing here?” Delia asked.
“I’m proposing that you and I should have a council and smoke the peace smoke,” Lani said.
Delia was mystified. “But why?”
Lani smiled to think how much Delia sounded like her son just then.
“On the day my brother Davy was baptized,” Lani answered, “Looks at Nothing, Fat Crack, an old Catholic priest named Father John, and my father all smoked it together. Until that happened, Davy was a boy with two mothers and no fathers. From that moment on, he was a boy with two mothers and four fathers. The four men hadn’t been friends before that, especially Looks at Nothing and Father John, but from then on they were. I’d like for us to do the same thing-smoke the peace smoke and become friends.”
“Because of Angie?” Delia asked.
“Not just because of Angie,” Lani said. “Fat Crack told my father once that someday he hoped the two of us would be friends. I’m beginning to think maybe he was right.”
With that she lit the cigarette, using a match rather than the lighter. She took a long drag, and then passed the cigarette to Delia. “Nawoj,” she said.
For a time the two women sat in silence with the desert heat shimmering around them and with the sweet- smelling smoke enveloping them as well.
“When I first came back here I was jealous of you,” Delia admitted at last. “I didn’t understand why Fat Crack spent so much time with you. I thought he should be teaching what he knew to Leo or Richard, to one of his own sons, instead of to someone else, especially to someone who was being raised by Anglos. Now, though, I understand why. Leo and Richard weren’t interested in all those things-not the way you are. Not the way Gabe is.”
Delia passed the cigarette back to Lani.
“And then, even though he was a Christian Scientist, Fat Crack insisted that we should invest tribal money in turning you into a doctor. I lobbied against that as well. I thought your Anglo parents should foot the bill for your education. Now, though, I understand that, too, because I see what you’re doing. Yes, you’re a medical doctor, but you understand the traditional ways and take those things into consideration.”
There was another period of silence, punctuated by puffs of smoke. “Did you know my mother is gay?” Delia asked.
Lani shook her head. “No.”
“My parents broke up when I was little,” Delia said. “For a long time I assumed it was because my father was a drunk. It turns out that was one reason for the split, but it wasn’t the only one. My mother was attracted to women. Ruth Waldron, the woman who eventually became my mother’s partner-who still is my mother’s partner-came from money, old East Coast money. Ruth saw to it that I had every educational advantage her money could buy.”
“So you were a girl with two mothers, too,” Lani murmured. “Just like I was with Diana Ladd and Nana Dahd.”
Delia smiled and nodded. “With Fat Crack’s encouragement, the tribe saw to it that you got your education. An Anglo paid for most of mine. I’m hoping that between the two of us we can do the same kind of thing for Angelina Enos-give her the same kind of advantages that were given to us. So have you made a decision?” Delia asked. “Are you willing to take her?”
“Yes,” Lani said. “I am, and I’m willing to take her today. I think it’s criminal that the Escalantes would turn her away just as they turned me away.”
“Good,” Delia said. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“But how will all this work?” Lani asked. “I can’t just walk into the hospital and insist that they hand her over.”
“Yes, you can,” Delia said. “Right after I spoke to you I called Judge Lawrence. He’s drawing up a court order declaring you to be Angie’s temporary guardian. All you have to do is go by his place and sign it.”
Lani was taken aback to think that Delia had known in advance what her decision would be. “What about later?” she asked. “What if some other relative of Angie’s comes forward and offers to take her?”
“They won’t,” Delia declared. “They didn’t come for you, and they won’t come for Angie.”
Delia Ortiz took one last drag on the smoldering remnant of the cigarette. “Nawoj,” she said again as she passed it back.
Much to her surprise, Delia Ortiz realized that somehow the wiw had done its magic work. Through the haze of sweet-smelling smoke it seemed entirely possible that she and Lanita Dolores Walker could be friends after all, exactly as her father-in-law, Fat Crack, had intended.
Tucson, Arizona
Sunday, June 7, 2009, 12:00 p.m.
89? Fahrenheit
By the time the Aces showed up in person, Brian had typed up what he had, including the contact information for Detective Mumford in Thousand Oaks and a cell phone number for Dan Pardee. He would have been glad to hand off the paper and get the hell out, but things didn’t work out that way.
“This is all you’ve got?” Jake Abernathy asked derogatorily after scanning through the pages.
Detective Abernathy knew he was Sheriff Forsythe’s “chosen one.” He came complete with the requisite ego and attitude. He understood Brian had to be pissed about being taken off the case, and he couldn’t help rubbing Brian’s nose in it. At least he couldn’t help trying to, but Brian refused to take the bait.
“Yup,” he said. “That’s all we have so far. You’ll probably want to follow up with Detective Mumford over in Thousand Oaks. She’s working on tracking phone records.”
Making the suggestion was a deliberate ploy. Brian was reasonably sure that based on that, he could expect that the Aces wouldn’t give Alex Mumford the time of day.
“I think Rick and I can track down phone records on our own,” Jake told him. “Now what about this witness-the little girl who supposedly saw the killer. If we go out to the res to interview her, will we need to bring along a translator?”
Brian didn’t call the Tohono O’odham Nation “the res” ever.
“No,” he said. “Her name is Angelina Enos and she speaks English.” A lot better than you speak Tohono O’odham, he thought.
“Where is she?”
“The last I heard she was in the hospital at Sells. But you have Dan Pardee’s number. He can probably tell you where she ended up going.”
Abernathy frowned. “According to this, he’s the Border Patrol guy who found her along with the bodies. Why would this jerk know where she is? Is he a relative of some kind?”
No relation, Brian thought, and no jerk, either.
“I had my hands full, and he was willing to look after the kid,” Brian said aloud.
“Okay, okay. We’ll track him down and see what he has to say,” Jake said. Then he turned to his partner. “We should probably check with Border Patrol and take a look at his statement, too.”
