“Clan?”
“Each clan has a role in the society of the pueblo. It takes all clans to make the society whole.”
“What would any of this have to do with a hardly noticeable trail to a waterfall?”
“No idea, and possibly nothing. I’m only guessing. But if it did, it might have something to do with a ritual, pilgrimage, initiation, who knows. And his sister died, what, eighteen years back?”
“Sixteen.”
“Hmmm,” Bell said. “Hard to know.”
“How can I find out?”
“I doubt they’ll tell you.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not part of their culture.”
“What about you? You’re respected. You could ask.”
She laughed. “Me? A short, blonde, Jewish anthropologist from New York? They won’t share that information with me any more than they’ll tell you.”
“What do I do? This is frustrating.”
“Let me ask you a question. Why do you need to know?”
“I was nearly killed up there.”
“I understand. But why do you need to know? You’ve got to remember, traditions are important to these people, and in ways that you cannot understand. If you dig hard enough, you might learn something. It might end at that, or it might not. You don’t have the slightest clue what the consequences might be. The social ramifications, for Thomas, his clan, his society—they could be great.”
“I wouldn’t do anything. I just need to know.”
She laughed. “Oh, you silly Anglo.”
Chapter 8
Jack got up and wandered down the hall.
How the hell do you forget something like Thomas and that ledge? Forget everything and move on! Easy for her to say. Cloe didn’t hang at the end of a rope, slamming against the canyon wall, wondering if it’d all come to an end with a big fall.
He ducked into the Dispatch Office for a cup of coffee. “Morning Molly,” he said, knowing she was aware of his presence, but tied up with morning routines.
“You have a meeting in town,” the uniformed dispatcher muttered as she poured over radio logs making notes.
“Actually, two this week, but how’d you know?”
“Gazette. I wondered if we’d need to find someone to cover for you,” she said. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the fire?”
“I’m done, unless Johnny needs me. If it stays a good fire, he won’t. Might creep around all summer, get snuffed out by the monsoons, but whatever happens is Johnny’s to worry about.”
He chuckled to himself as he picked the newspaper off the counter dividing the room. The Gazette—Molly was always the first to see it. Between the radio, phone and Gazette she had her finger on the pulse of everything. He gave the front page a scan and noticed the blurb about the meeting. “Next round of Coalition meetings starts today.” It gave the time and place, “. . . Inn of the Canyons, at 10:00 a.m.,” and a short list of probable attendees, “Kip Culberson, rancher and former New Mexico State Senator, . . .” and “. . . Karen Hatcher, Director of the Trust for the Southwest.” They were quoted as inviting any member of the public wanting to participate. The paper stated the purpose of the Coalition, “. . . to find common ground and make recommendations on managing the new National Monument,” and gave brief histories of its establishment outside the National Park—by proclamation by the outgoing President—and of the controversies that followed.
The earlier battles, to see them described, seemed rather pedestrian, but they were anything but that six months ago. Then came the Coalition, and the search for common ground, and with that, a period of peace. Now, cliques were becoming common, resulting in more and more battles.
Jack shook his head at the description. Overstated? Maybe. Maybe not. Some issues were tough, but so far none rose to the level of being unsolvable. But, it wasn’t out of the question.
He slipped into the hall sipping coffee, and sauntered its length, stopping at the end office. Margie, Joe Morgan’s secretary, was not yet in, so he stepped past her desk, and stopped at the Superintendent’s door, knocking three times. “Morning, Joe. Got a minute?”
Joe looked up from his reading. “Morning.” He gestured to a chair and sat back, the image of seasoned professionalism—uniform perfect, greying hair precisely clipped.
“Two things,” Jack said, plopping down. “The guy we rescued . . . he had a sister. Died in the same location years ago. I’ll share that with Luiz, in case he wants to follow up on it.”
“Tell him to let me know if he learns more.”
“Will do. Second, bad news and I’m sorry you’re just hearing this but today’s my first day back in the office. A wallflower, genus Erysimum, a candidate for endangered species status . . . it . . .”
“Tell me.”
“Burned. The whole known population.” Jack let out a sigh. “Gone. A guy named Foss was assigned to protect them. He did nothing. Let the fire burn right past him.”
“The overall responsibility was ours.”
“Of course, and I assure you the loss is weighing heavy on Johnny Reger, but it wasn’t his fault. He took precautions. He knows we need to conduct a review of some sort. Foss, it turns out, is brother to a ghost from my past.”
Joe slowly shook his head. “We sure this plant isn’t fire adapted?”
“Might be. We just don’t know.”
“Start the review. Keep me informed.” He gave his head another shake. “I see you have a meeting in town.”
“Actually, two this week. The hard stuff. Wanna join me?”
“No, I won’t intrude. Might mess things up.” He picked up a pen and gave it several clicks. “A year ago, half the Coalition was fighting to get rid of the national monument, the other half willing to fight to the death to keep it. Where they are today is remarkable. That they recognize the values they have in common, amazing. You need to feel good about that. I know that’s hard to say now, considering you came in here with bad news, but you should. When this wraps up you’ll be in demand. You can pretty much call your shot on where you want to go next.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m serious, your career’s back on track.”
“I’m where I want to be. That other stuff doesn’t concern me.”
“What does concern you?”
“All I need is to be relevant. To do work that’s relevant.”
“You sure?”
“I’m not looking for promotions or big titles, just meaningful work.”
Joe sighed. “I respect you for that, but there’ll come a day when I or someone else needs you to take on something bigger, for the good of the Service. People will remember how capable you are when the Coalition report is finished.”
“Too early to jump to conclusions. Too much work to do. We’ll see breakdowns, maybe big ones.”
“Is that the restored Jack talking? Or remnants of the one that showed up here a year and a half ago, damaged and defeated?”
He stopped himself and looked past Joe, through the window at soaring cliffs and blue skies opening up above them. What a question. “Not