The relationship perfectly fit Chee Navajo traditionalism. Natural harmony required all species, be they human, hamster, hummingbird, snake, or scorpion, to respect each other’s roles in the natural world. He saw no more justification in pretending to own a “pet” than he did in human slavery. Both violated the harmony of the system and thus were immoral. However, this cat presented a problem. It had been spoiled for a career as a naturally feral cat, not having been taught to hunt its food by its mother or how to evade other predators. Worse, it had been declawed—a cruel and barbarious custom. It could no longer adjust to the world into which it had been left. Chee understood that. That, too, was natural. He could not adjust to the world of Wisconsin dairy farming which Mary Landon planned for him. And Mary could not imagine raising her blond, blue-eyed children in his world. And so when her letters began arriving from Stevens Point, Wisconsin, beginning “Dear Jim” instead of “Darling,” Chee put Cat in an airline-approved pet cage and sent it to her—out of the landscape of claw and fang, into a world in which animals were transformed from independent fellows into pets of their masters. With her Christmas card, Mary had sent him a picture of Cat on a sofa with her and her Wisconsin husband. Cat was now named Alice, and Mary was still so beautiful that he knew he would never quite forget her.
Chee rose from the log, went into his trailer, and retrieved the photograph from his desk drawer. He studied it, confirming his memory. Another moment of sorting produced a photograph of Janet Pete. Another sort of beauty. Not the soft, warm, sensual, farm-girl karma of Mary here. Janet was high-fashion, Ivy League law school chic. The word now was cool, in the sophisticated sense. She had been the court-appointed public defender of a murder suspect when he met her, an honor grad of a noted law school who had a yen for a seat someday on the Supreme Court. Her Navajo father had provided her the Pete name, her perfect complexion and classic bone structure. But her New England socialite mother had formed the Janet he knew, formed her in a world of high fashion, very important people, and a layered, sophisticated ruling class.
Janet smiled at him now out of the photograph, dark eyes, dark hair beautifully framing a perfect face, slender, an image of grace. Chee dropped both photographs back into the drawer and closed it, remembering how long it had taken him to understand Janet, to realize how smart she was, to realize how he fitted into her plans. Like Mary, she had (more or less) said yes. He had obtained a videotape of a traditional Navajo wedding and took it to her apartment to explain it to her. Instead he learned the nuptials would be in a Washington cathedral with full pomp and ceremony. She had arranged to have the proper strings pulled to have herself transferred to a Justice Department job in Maryland. She had learned the U.S. Marshals Service had an opening there that exactly fit him. She was surprised that he was surprised.
The telephone rang.
Bernie, Chee thought. He picked it up. “Bernie,” he said, “I’ve been—”
“It’s Joe Leaphorn,” the voice said. “I’ve been trying to reach you.”
Chee exhaled. Said, “Oh, okay. I got your message. I was just going to call you. Tell me what McGinnis told you about the diamond.”
“I will,” Leaphorn said. “If you’re still interested in that charge against Billy Tuve, I guess it’s sort of good news. But now I’ve also got some bad news. I’ll give you that first.”
“Sure,” Chee said.
“Sheriff Tomas Perez—you remember him, retired now. Anyway, I saw him down at the Navajo Inn at lunch. He told me he heard from his old undersheriff that they’ve got some more evidence against Tuve. Seems a former employee at that Zuni store reported that the manager there actually did have a big, valuable diamond in his stock. He said the boss had shown it to him several times. Was very proud of it.”
“Oh,” Chee said, thinking, Good-bye, Tuve.
Leaphorn awaited further comment. Got none.
“So it won’t surprise you to hear that the victim’s widow is claiming the diamond. The D.A. said she’d have to wait until after the trial and he’d need her to testify about it.”
“Did she say she’d seen it, too?”
“Perez seemed to have that impression. But you know how it is. He’s been out of the sheriff’s job for three years now. Passing along third-hand stuff.”
“Yeah,” Chee said. “Do you know if Dashee knows about this?”
“Probably,” Leaphorn said. “You know how that is, too. Bad news travels fast.”
“Yep. It does.”
“However, what Shorty told me makes it sound like Billy Tuve might actually have gotten that diamond down in the canyon. Shorty told me he got his own diamond—”
“Wait,” Chee said. “Pardon the interruption. His own diamond? What does that mean?”
“Remember that Short Mountain burglary? Years ago? Shorty listed the diamond as part of the loss. He says he got it from a cowboy, a guy named Reno, who drifted through, gave it to him in exchange for some groceries and a ride into Page. This Reno told Shorty he’d traded one of those scabbard knives for it to an old man down in the Grand Canyon.”
“About where in the canyon?”
“He said just down from the Little Colorado confluence.”
“Well, now,” Chee said. “That’s interesting. That’s the right general area.”
“Must be very close to the place Tuve claims to have swapped off his folding shovel, right?”
“Right,” Chee said. “I’ll tell Dashee about this. Thanks.”
“The even better news is you finally got wise enough to ask Bernadette to marry you. That correct?”
“It is.”
Leaphorn chuckled. “They say third time’s the charm. It is the third time, isn’t it? First we heard you and that pretty blond girl teaching over at Crownpoint were getting married. And then we heard it was going to be the U.S. lawyer, Janet Pete. Both of those deals fell through. I hope you’re not going to let Bernadette back out.”
“Not if I can prevent it,” Chee said.
“Well, I’m glad for you. Glad for both of you. She’s a prize. It took you way too long to realize it.”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t realize it. It was just—Just—Well, I don’t know how to explain it.”
“How about telling me it’s none of my business. Or saying twice burned makes you triple careful. Anyway, congratulations. And tell Bernie everybody is happy for both of you.”
“Well, thanks, Lieutenant. She’s a great lady.”
“You’re going hunting, then? You think there’s any hope of finding the diamond man? After all these years?”
“Not much, I guess. But what else can you do? Dashee and I talked about it, agreed it seemed hopeless, but if he’s heard what you’ve just told me, I’m dead certain he’s going to go hunting, and just as certain he’ll want me to help—even though he probably won’t ask me.”
“I see your point,” Leaphorn said. “Shorty told me a couple of other things that might be helpful.” He told Chee what Reno had said about meeting his diamond man at the mouth of a cave up one of those narrow little slots that drain runoff water down the cliffs into the Colorado River, about the diamond being in a snuff can, and the case from which the old man took it, containing several such cans.
“That’s odd,” Chee said.
“I thought so, too. But this old fellow had taken a smaller diamond out of a different snuff can. So maybe they’re his storage units. And the can he gave Reno was in a leather pouch. Sort of like a medicine pouch.”
“He was an Indian? What kind?”
“Shorty said Reno didn’t know. But he didn’t speak much English. And gave some hand signals saying the diamonds came out of an airplane crash.”