Aimee Thurlo - Black Raven's Pride

“If it’s true,” Jake repeated. “And I really doubt that. Our father was many things, but no way I’m going to believe he was party to the theft of sacred items or the framing of an innocent woman. That just wasn’t his style. He was like me, an in-your-face fighter.”

“So you think I should let this drop?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, for now. Let’s see how things develop. Unlike this matter of the diary, it doesn’t require immediate action.”

“Agreed.”

A short time later they pulled up in front of their uncle’s home. Thomas Ray had lived in the stucco and wood frame house for the past thirty years. There was a wire fence around the property and a sagging wooden gate that led to the backyard.

As the twin brothers stepped up onto the porch, a strong breeze blew the front door open a few inches. Nick stopped and glanced around, holding out his hand to signal Jake to remain still. “His truck’s not here, so why’s that door open? Our people generally don’t use locks, but they do close doors.” He peeked through the foot-wide opening into the house.

“Maybe he’s still around. The fact that his truck’s not here doesn’t mean anything. His pickup’s long past a stop at the junkyard. It could be over at Ralph’s gas station getting its engine rebuilt, or broken down between here and Santa Fe.”

“Point taken. Now hang back,” Nick said, pushing the door open completely. “If he’s around, and this door’s open, something’s wrong.”

Jake went inside first, despite Nick’s warning. Cursing, Nick rushed in after him, hoping his brother wasn’t about to confront a burglar.

“Jake, what the hell are you doing? You can’t burst inside someone’s home like this.”

“Chill out. It isn’t like we’re breaking and entering.” Jake bumped into a low table and a small clay pot fell to the floor, shattering into several pieces. “Well, okay, now it’s entering and breaking. But we’re here, so let’s look around.”

“This wouldn’t be a legal search,” Nick snapped. “It’s a waste of time.”

“Are you one hundred percent certain that our uncle isn’t in trouble? The door swinging wide open by itself is enough to indicate suspicious circumstances. We’re here, worried about a family member. You’re not on duty now, are you?”

“Who do you expect to sell that load of garbage to? Captain Mora wouldn’t swallow it.”

“Fine, but let’s look around anyway. We owe it to ourselves.”

“You don’t get it, do you? It’s illegal, and I’m a cop. I don’t want to arrest my own idiot brother.”

“I’ll tell you what. Go out back and see if our uncle is around the yard, maybe chopping wood or pulling weeds.”

Nick’s expression hardened. “I’m going to give you just the time it’ll take me to go through the house and make sure there’s no signs of trouble here,” he snapped. “Then we both leave.”

“That’s the spirit. I’ll work fast, and you work slowly. And if we happen to see the diary, we’ll take it back.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Nick said. Seeing the pot shards on the floor, he stopped and picked them up. “No sense in advertising the fact that we were here,” he said, then added, “At least this is something that was stolen from us originally. I remember seeing it at our house after Dad was killed, and I know neither of us gave it to Thomas.”

Jake was already in the single bedroom searching by the time Nick threw all the ceramic fragments into the trash.

Several minutes later, Jake met his brother by the door. “He’s only got a few pieces of furniture. I opened every drawer. The closets were full of clothes and cardboard boxes of stuff, but there was no diary. If it’s here, it’s too well hidden for us to find easily.”

Nick looked around with a scowl. “Come on. We’re wasting time.” He led the way back to the truck.

Hearing his cell phone ring, Nick grabbed it from his pocket and flipped it open. He listened, then answered. “I’m on my way.”

Nick glanced over at his brother. “There’s trouble at the school. The principal reported someone watching the kids from inside a hedge behind the basketball court. There’s a big cornfield just beyond the school grounds, so that’s probably how he got in close. No one else is available so I’m responding to the call. Give me a ride over there, will you?”

“Sure thing.” Jake pressed down on the accelerator. “Any ideas what that could be about?”

Nick nodded. “About two dozen pueblo kids will be initiated into the tribe soon. Anthropologists from area universities have been dying to find out what goes on during that ritual, so when they hear one’s about to take place, they start nosing around.”

Jake smiled. “Remember when it was our turn to be initiated? All the girls got off easy, but it was different for us.”

“My knees were shaking by the time they turned to us and asked us if we really wanted to be finished,” Nick answered.

“Then we had to promise never to reveal what went on because if all our ceremonies were made public, they’d lose their power, and our people wouldn’t have the protection of our gods,” Jake said.

“Most of the anthropologists have never respected that. They want to record and analyze everything. So they keep coming. Initiation rites aren’t held every year, but the grad students working on a thesis or trying to make a name for themselves somehow always manage to find out when one’s about due. That’s quite a feat in itself, considering that even the kids don’t know when it’s supposed to happen.”

“You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait until Noelle goes through the initiation rite. I like the feeling it gives me when I think that my daughter will continue the traditions that were important to me when I was growing up. It’s a legacy that goes beyond a simple inheritance.”

Nick said nothing. His brother had his family and, because of them, he’d always have a reason to look to the future.

But Nick had taken another road. He’d never wanted a family or kids. Yet now that he only had himself to worry about, he was starting to see that a man needed more in his life to feel complete.

Nick pushed those thoughts away. This wasn’t the time to think about such things. He was a cop and there was work to do.

Eden stopped by the wooden cubbyholes on the office wall that served as teachers’ mailboxes, and pulled out all the envelopes, memos and student worksheets that had been crammed inside the small enclosure labeled with her name. She sorted everything on the way back to her classroom, then sat down at her oak teacher’s desk and began to read through the paperwork.

A legal-size envelope with her name and the school address handwritten in pencil caught her eye. There was no return address on the letter, which had been postmarked yesterday.

Eden opened it, her hands shaking. As she read the short note contained inside, her stomach sank. It was getting all too familiar.

THIS PUEBLO IS ALL WE HAVE LEFT. YOU ARE HALF-WHITE AND SHOULDN’T BE LIVING HERE. THE POLICE CAN’T HELP YOU. LEAVE NOW BEFORE THINGS GET WORSE.

The unsigned note, in block letters, stunned her because a new dimension had been added to the note—a threat. She sat immobile, heart beating overtime, then stuffed the envelope into her pocket and rushed to the teachers’ phone in the book room. Although the note hadn’t mentioned her son, she had to make sure Christopher was safe. When Mrs. Chino, who ran a day-care center out of her home during the week, assured her that Christopher was fine, Eden finally relaxed.

Lost in thought, she returned to her classroom, wondering how to deal with the person who was trying to drive her off pueblo land. When she’d renewed her search for the truth, her main goal had been to clear her family’s name so that her son would grow up feeling pride, not shame in their family. She’d never expected to have to fight another battle as well.