Hillerman, Tony - [Leaphorn & Chee 14] Read Online Free PDF

Museum at Tucson. Yes, the manager told him, Mr
Timms had flown his L-17 down in June and offered it for sale. And,
yes, they would have liked to add it to their collection, but they
hadn’t made an offer. Why not? The usual reason, said the manager. He
wanted way too much for it. He was asking fifty thousand.
    The second call was to Cowboy Dashee, his old friend from boyhood.
But it wasn’t just to reminisce. Deputy Sheriff Dashee worked for the
Sheriff’s Department of Apache County, Arizona, which meant the ranch
of Eldon Timms—at least the south end of it—might be in Deputy Dashee’s
jurisdiction.
     

----
 Chapter Six
    For no reason except habit born of childhood in a crowded hogan, Joe
Leaphorn awoke with the first light of dawn. The bedroom he and Emma
had shared for three happy decades faced both the sunrise and the noisy
street. When Leaphorn had noted the noise disadvantage to Emma she had
pointed out that the quieter bedroom had no windows facing the dawn. No
further explanation was needed.
    Emma was a true Navajo traditional with the traditional’s need to
greet the new day. That was one of the countless reasons Leaphorn loved
her. Besides, while Leaphorn was no longer truly a traditional, no
longer offered a pinch of pollen to the rising sun, he still treasured
the old ways of his people.
    This morning, however, he had a good reason for sleeping late.
Professor Louisa Bourebonette was sleeping in the quieter bedroom, and
Leaphorn didn’t want to awaken her. So he lay under the sheet, watched
the eastern horizon turn flame red, listened to the automatic
coffeemaker go to work in the kitchen, and considered what the devil to
do with the names Gershwin had given him. The three had stolen
themselves an airplane and flown away, which took some of the pressure
off. Still, if Gershwin was right, having their identities would
certainly be useful to those trying to catch them.
    Leaphorn yawned, stretched, smelled coffee, wondered if he could get
to the kitchen and pour a cup quietly enough not to disturb Louisa.
Wondered, too, what solution she would offer for his dilemma if he
presented it to her. Emma would have told him to forget it. Locking
robbers in prison helped no one, she’d say. They should be cured of the
disharmony that was causing this bad behavior. Prison didn’t accomplish
that. A Mountain Way ceremony, with all their friends and relatives
gathered to support them, would drive the dark wind out of them and
restore them to hozho .
    A clatter in the kitchen interrupted that thought. Leaphorn jumped
out of bed and put on his bathrobe. He found Louisa standing at the
stove, fully dressed and cooking pancakes.
    “I’m using your mix,” she said. “They’d be a lot better if you had
some buttermilk.”
    Leaphorn rescued his mug from the sink, rinsed it, poured himself a
cup, and sat by the table watching Louisa, remembering the ten thousand
mornings he had watched Emma from the same chair. Emma was shorter,
slimmer, and always wore skirts. Louisa had on jeans and a flannel
shirt. Her hair was short and gray. Emma’s was long and a luminous
black. That hair was her only source of vanity. Emma had hated to have
it cut even for the brain surgery that killed her.
    “You’re up early,” Leaphorn said.
    “Blame it on your culture,” Louisa said. “These old-timers I need to
talk to have been up an hour already. They’ll be in bed by sundown.”
    “How about your translator? Did you ever manage to get hold of him?”
    “I’ll try again after breakfast,” Louisa said. “Young people have
more normal sleeping habits.”
    They ate pancakes.
    “Something’s on your mind,” Louisa said. “Right?”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Because it’s true,” Louisa said. “I could tell last night when we
were having dinner down at the Inn. Couple of times you started to say
something, but you didn’t.”
    True enough. And why hadn’t he? Because it would have taken him too
close to his