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followed his eyes to the banks of the Mississippi River, the water brown and choppy in the early-spring wind.
    â€œShe pulls a lot of folks here,” he added, referring to the river. “Whether they mean to come and stay or whether they just want to see her, walk along the bank, float on top, she calls many a lost soul to her shores.”
    Rose smiled at that. She knew that she was one in the long line of those souls.
    â€œThere’s a lot she tells to some folks,” he remarked, “and a whole lot she just keeps to herself well beneath those curved whitecaps.”
    Rose followed the sheriff’s eyes and watched the water dance in the breeze. She peered again at the lawman and nodded, remembering her own yielding to the Mississippi, the way she camped at the edge, the measure of comfort she found in her wide brown arms.
    â€œYeah,” she responded. “I suspect one way or another, we’re all meant to be here.” She turned around and faced the dead man. “I guess he had his reasons, too.” Then she blew out a breath and walked a couple of steps toward the door.
    â€œI’m sorry if I compromised your crime scene,” she said to the sheriff. She thought he appeared weary, that maybe the job was getting to him, that in some way he was too sensitive for such work.
    â€œIt’s not a problem, Rose,” he said, sounding almost fatherly. “Go take Lou Ellen to the doctor and meet me at the station.” He hesitated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
    Rose studied the older man. His words of pardon were enough to ease her guilt. She opened the door to the camper and found the dog standing at her feet. She bent down and scratched under his chin. “I guess you’ll be staying with us after all.”
    He wagged his tail and followed behind the woman as she made her way to the office.

FIVE
    â€œDid you show Sheriff Montgomery?” Ms. Lou Ellen was examining the bracelet that Rose had taken from the area outside the camper.
    Rose drove ahead through the stoplight once it changed from red to green. She turned to see her friend holding the piece of jewelry that she had taken out of her pocket to give her. She shook her head.
    Ms. Lou Ellen raised her eyebrows. She seemed surprised.
    â€œI know,” Rose said before the older woman could comment. “It was wrong of me. I’m going to hand it over to Sheriff Montgomery when I go to the station.” She faced the road. “There was just something about it that made me want to keep it for a little while.”
    Ms. Lou Ellen hummed a reply as she flipped the bracelet over and traced the engraved symbols with her fingertip. “Maybe it’s this luscious piece of turquoise.” She held it close to her eyes to analyze it. “It is difficult to find gems this unspoiled anymore.”
    The older woman was right. It was a beautiful stone. The color of it was a rich watery shade of blue, unlike any piece of turquoise that Rose had ever seen. Thick and smooth from hours of polishing, it fit perfectly in the center of the bracelet and reminded the woman of a small reflection of the desert sky held in the pool of deep canyon water.
    â€œAnd the engravings are simply divine.” She traced the symbols. “I expect this is Hopi or Zuni, not Navajo. They tend to do more of a stamp than inlay.”
    She faced Rose, who seemed a bit puzzled. “I worked in a jewelry store before I married for money,” she added as an explanation. “We had a very good selection of Native American jewelry.” She held out the bracelet to Rose, who had stopped at another intersection.
    â€œWhat do you think the symbols mean?” Rose asked as she pulled ahead cautiously. She did not take back the piece of jewelry.
    â€œThese are sequenced in such a way, they look like they tell a story.” The older woman kept it in her hands. She noticed again the different symbols. “Some of