Jamestown Weed

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THE CASE OF THE JAMESTOWN WEED
BY

MARIANNE EVENSEN
(SANTA FE, JANUARY 1972)

OBLIGATORY 20 MINUTES OF YOU-KNOW-WHAT:
(In this story, I am assuming the notation, "Santa Fe, 1972", on the story "Big Cousin/Little Cousin" which appeared in Relativity is incorrect, at least, as far as the year goes. "BC/LC" precedes Gina's story "Trading Secrets", which appears in the same issue. "BC/LC" takes place in the fall. Gina's story "TS" takes place on the following Memorial Day.

In order for the stories to correlate with each other, "BC/LC" should probably take place in the fall of 1971, bumping "TS" to Memorial Day, 1972. Keep in mind that, despite getting kicked out of several institutions of higher learning, Lee did manage to graduate from college in 1973 (only a year off schedule). He was shortly thereafter recruited to work for "The Agency", serving first in the "OZ" Network.
Another note is, of course, that in "BC/LC" Lee Stetson has just been kicked out of Stanford in the early fall, or as a result of something he did in the summer session. He would just have time to be accepted for Spring or Winter semester, attend it partially, and then get kicked out of Berkeley in time for the next Memorial Day, and Gina's story.
This is the story of what happened in between. In those few weeks of respite at the ranch...)

* * *
Jamestown, Virginia, 1676
The leader of the search party broke through the protective line of fir trees and stopped at once in surprise. Kendall, his homespun clothes as dirty, creased and worn as his tanned face, raised a hand in warning. It silenced Farthingale, Stewart and Solly, their native guide, behind them. He turned a bewildered face towards them.

"All here?" he asked quietly. "What does it mean?"

Solly, sprang quickly to life, putting his hand on Kendall's shoulder to caution him. They stood still, all four of them, listening. Each was keenly aware of the loaded musket in Kendall's hand.

Kendall wasn't sure why he held to the standard procedure. From what he could tell, there was no danger. Even at this distance he could see Moore was stark naked, sitting on a big rock with a stupid grin on his face. Jones seemed to be dancing with his trousers instead of wearing them, though otherwise his worn uniform was strictly regimental, and that ruddy-cheeked Faugh was... what was Faugh doing? How peculiar, Kendall thought, lowering his musket. Faugh was blowing feathers through the air.

Stewart started giggling. He sat down on a stump and covered his mouth with a beefy hand, as his face turned red and his eyes filled with tears.

"Fie upon you, Stu," Farthingale growled in a whisper.

The nervous giggling stopped as he left the cover of the trees. Kendall couldn't help but wonder what was going on. All three objects of their search were in the clearing. As far as one could tell at this distance, they each looked well and unharmed. Kendall felt his anger rising. For this they had tracked all night through the forest and had risked possible trouble with their Indian neighbors. For this he had left his poor Maggie alone when she was so worried about their tiny daughter, and sickly herself.

Behind him he could hear their guide, the dark-skinned man they had found and renamed Solly, take a sharp breath.

"What do ye make of it?" Kendall asked the man as they drew closer. "Have they been a'drinking?" He gestured holding the cup to his lips to help the words, but Solly shook his head, pointing instead to the plant which grew at their feet, an ordinary enough looking weed with white, funnel shaped flowers.

"Pokeweed?" It was Farthingale who spoke. "They were hunting for food. It looks to be regular pokeweed. Good eating." At this Stewart left his stump and joined them.

"Yeah, they was huntin' food," Stewart agreed. "Jones claims he knows all about plants."

Solly shook his head so his waist-length brown braids danced. "Not food." He bent, picked the plant at his feet and rolled the flowers between his fingers. He struggled for more words in their language, then turned to Kendall. "Not food," he repeated. "Eat... m-many... Dead." He threw the crushed blossom to the ground for emphasis.

"Lord Almighty," Farthingale whispered, scratching his head. His eyes never left Faugh, his drinking buddy, who was still blowing feathers across the meadow, oblivious to the rescue party.

Kendall too, was mystified, but noticed with alarm the sun's position in the afternoon sky. "Come on, men. Let's gather the poor wretches. We have a bit of a trek ahead of us back to camp, and I'll be missing the little woman's cooking one more night as it is."

"Ain't her cooking ye be missin', Kendall," Stewart grinned, adjusting his leather shoulder strap and stepping forward. "Let us be goin'. I'll get Moore. Never noticed he was of quite so skinny a frame."

Farthingale nodded his agreement. "I think he will have one hellish sunburn." He smiled and shook his head.

"God help us," Kendall murmured, as he walked across the field. In front of him, the naked Moore still sat quietly on his rock with a stupid grin on his face.

* * *
Monticello, 1789 - Thomas Jefferson impatiently brushed a strand of coppery hair out of his eyes and reread the final paragraph of the worn, leather-bound book in his lap. The incident that had occurred in the Jamestown colony was only one of many that bothered him. It was the most colorful, though. The Jamestown soldiers who had mistaken the deadly Jimson weed for the edible pokeweed had remained out of their minds for eleven days. Eleven days of insanity. Afterwards, the tale went, they remembered nothing.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the plant weren't so common. However, even an amateur botanist knew that Jimson was found in waste places, pastures, gardens and roadsides all over the North American continent. Lately, he had heard a few tales of unscrupulous tavern owners and prostitutes using the weed to concoct dangerous cocktails that enabled them to fleece their drowsy customers.

Jefferson reached again for the letter he'd begun to his physician friend. His botanical studies had led him to a serious conclusion: there was nothing funny about Jimson weed. He scratched at the stubble on his chin with the heavy vellum, then put the paper down and began once more to write.

"It brings on the sleep of death," his quill scratched out. He grimly reread it. Was the wording strong enough to convince even stubborn Matthew? He hoped so. From what he knew now, the Jamestown soldiers were not just laughable, they were lucky to have lived.

* * *
New Mexico, Fall 1971 - "Now you've seen the whole place," Andy said with a flourish, indicating the small, dingy apartment living room with a sweep of his hand. There really hadn't been much to see, Lee reflected. The small, two bedroom student rental was typical. The couch was full of holes and the carpeting was threadbare. The only other furniture, besides the coffee table, was an elaborate stereo system set on some old wooden crates. The table was etched with cigarette burns, but the stereo was new, with piles of record albums stacked next to it. Lee didn't have to guess who'd gone into debt for that set up.

To his cousin Lee Stetson, Andy Travis looked good... robust and enthusiastic as usual, despite the thick mop of shoulder length blond hair that Grandma Michaels had warned Lee would find "disgraceful". The woman was usually so tolerant of her grandsons, Lee had to smile at her description. He'd discovered, upon arriving this afternoon in Albuquerque, that it really wasn't much longer than his own sun-streaked brown locks which, at the moment, needed washing. He thought of the endless crew cuts he'd had to endure as a child. It suddenly seemed a very long time ago. They'd both changed quite a bit since their childhood summers at the ranch.

Lee smiled at his cousin. "Looks good." He laughed. "Actually, it looks a lot like the place I was living in back at..." the smiled darkened. "...ah, back at Stanford."

Andy swept a lock of hair behind his ears and looked thoughtfully at Lee. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nothing to say. I flunked out."

"Not you, Man. You aren't dumb."

Lee kicked at a spot on the rug. "Not dumb. Just stupid. You see, there was this girl..."

"I knew it!" Andy interrupted, slapping him on the back. "Murphy and I bet it was a girl. I mean, with you it's always the women. You don't have to go into the gory details. I just broke up with Jeanine. I don't think I could stand it." He clutched at his heart melodramatically before he grabbed Lee's arm and dragged him over to the stereo. "Ever heard 'In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida' with the headphones on and the volume jacked up to here?"

"I think I'm going to have the experience real soon," Lee joked, grateful for the sudden change of subject.

Just then the front door opened and a young man entered. He grunted at Andy and Lee, dumped his school books on the sofa and disappeared into the bedroom. "That's just Norris," Andy explained. "Norris Breeze, my roommate. He works nights, goes to school days and tries to sleep in between."

"Doesn't seem very talkative."

"I don't see much of him this semester," Andy said with a shrug. "You hungry?"

"Always."

"There's this pizza place down the road. Let's go and you can tell me what you're up to."

Over a double cheese pepperoni pizza they exchanged stories of what they had been doing since they had last seen each other. Andy shared the sad story of Jeanine, a bouncy, attractive brunette, who was active in campus politics and had recently left him for a "geek poly sci major". Despite the heartbreak, Andy seemed to be faring well. He was almost ready to graduate from the University of New Mexico. He had paid for his education himself by doing odd-jobs for the local radio station in the evenings and deejaying school dances on the weekends. Judging from their reception at the pizza parlor, working the school dances had brought him a great deal of popularity. Lee got the impression that Andy had no trouble finding girlfriends, no matter how much he protested.

Andy's casual confidences made Lee feel uncomfortable. Although he was only seven months his junior, Lee still had a few years of education to go. Andy seemed to know where he was going. Lee, on the other hand, felt unfocused and confused. Andy's simple question about his major had left him stammering, "Don't hate me, but I'm leaning towards poly sci. No, really. Stop laughing... I've decided I like history... and I think we've got a great country, but I'd like to help make it better."

"What kind of idealistic crap have they been feeding you at Stanford?"

"California is California." It was an old joke. They both started laughing again.

"Murph should be here."

"And The Skipper." They were quiet for a moment, contemplating pizza.

"Tell me you're not serious about poly sci."

"Okay, semi-serious. But then there's the computer stuff. They were expanding the Computer Department at Stanford this year. Everyone says its the field to get into... And I like gadgets. Find me a major where I can read murder mysteries and play with gadgets ... outdoors ... and I'll be happy." He shook his head ruefully. He was old enough to know those jobs didn't exist.

"I guess I got lucky, huh? I just love the music. I took a music history course, did a term paper on the Beatles."

"They let you?"

"Sure. My prof even asked for a copy of it."

"You're kidding."

"Naw. Easy 'A'," Andy beamed. "I put in a lot of that East Indian philosophy of George Harrison's, talked about symbolism and all that stuff and was able to fob it off on both my English composition class and my philosophy class. Creativity. That's all it takes. Use your head."

"Here I've been wasting my time thinking you had to learn something useful in school. That just blows me away."

Andy slugged him playfully on the arm. "You're just saying that! Anyhow, I think it's great you're at the ranch. Have you thought of getting in a semester at Santa Fe College while you're there?"

"I didn't know there was such a place," Lee countered warily. The subject of school was starting to wear on him. "Besides, I got some applications in at a few major schools."

"Oh. Major schools. Well, it couldn't hurt to do a semester in the minors, cuz." With that, Andy grabbed the last piece of pizza. He was nearly a head shorter than Lee, but that didn't stop him from packing away the pizza, Lee noted with a grin.

"You think I should?"

"Of course. Better still, it's a men's college. You won't have an opportunity to get in trouble."

"Maybe I like trouble," Lee quipped.

They both laughed and the conversation turned to other things. However, on the long drive home to the ranch, Lee went over their conversation in his mind. Maybe his cousin had been right. Maybe he needed to keep his brain working on something positive. He'd brooded too much about what a failure he was lately. Maybe he should try to get a class in over at Santa Fe College. American History, or something. Just to keep his hand in. Just to keep Uncle Jake off his back. Just to keep his self-esteem from flagging more than it already was. Maybe he'd even try Andy's creative approach to school. It was worth a try.

Two hours later, as he pulled Uncle Jake's rattling old pick-up onto the gravel drive at the ranch he'd made up his mind. He would borrow the truck again and go over to Santa Fe in the morning.

* * *
Three weeks later, Lee sat glumly behind a desk listening to a lecture on Thomas Jefferson. He looked down at his notes, "third president of the U.S. 1801 to 1809". Good, the man had been talking for three quarters of an hour and all he had gotten out of the lecture was information he could've found in the dictionary. He stole a glance at his neighbor's paper. The big guy took neat, orderly notes. It looked like an outline; each sentence labeled with a roman numeral or a letter. Lee slumped further down in his seat. Andy had said he wasn't dumb. He knew he wasn't dumb. Why did he have such trouble in school? He was bored to death!

The sound of paper shuffling and books closing brought him out of his stupor.

"Hi there!"

His big neighbor was looking at him. The guy looked even taller in his high-crowned black felt cowboy hat. The face beneath the hat was brown, with flat, wide features and friendly brown eyes.

"Hi, yourself."

"You're new, huh? The name's Sam Begay."

"Stetson, uh, Lee Stetson." Lee tried to pull himself up an inch or two to match the guy's height, but it was useless. "Is Professor Dane always this boring?"

Sam laughed. "You've just got to get him going on the right subject. He really loves Jefferson. It should perk up tomorrow."

They began walking together down the crowded hallway. "How do you know all this?" Lee managed.

"I had him for American Lit and a government class. Don't worry, he'll grow on you. It's just tough on a block plan. It's so condensed."

"Yeah," Lee said soberly. "It's only been a week and I can barely keep up with the reading."

Sam flashed a bright smile. "If you'd like a study partner, I wouldn't mind the company."

"I saw your notes. Like, you really need a study partner."

"Of course, I do. I've gotta keep my scholarship. How about tomorrow night? I share an apartment not far from here."

Lee found himself agreeing, jotting Sam's address into his spiral notebook next to "third president of U.S. 1801 to 1809". He saw the note and chuckled. He wouldn't mind voting for Sam Begay right now. He hadn't realized how desperately he needed a friend. "See ya!" he called.

"See ya!" came big Sam's reply as he disappeared into the crowd towards the class.

* * *
Lee fidgeted. He'd been studying with Sam all of ten minutes, but his mind kept wandering to the psychedelic Jimi Hendrix poster on the wall behind the big Navajo. Sam's Santa Fe apartment wasn't too much different than Andy's Albuquerque one, except that he shared it with three other guys and two girls. It was crowded and a little wild, with people wandering in and out of the small kitchen where they'd spread their books on the wobbly formica topped table.

"You do well in school, huh?" Lee asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I do rotten. Look, you're wasting your time with me. I've been reading and re-reading this chapter on the Louisiana Purchase and I still don't get what the big deal is. Let's go shoot some hoops."

"Bye, Sammy," came a voice from the doorway. Lee looked up to see a little waif of a girl standing in the doorway waving at Sam. She was wearing a pink and orange tie-dyed tee-shirt dress that barely covered her bottom, and a large peace symbol on a chain around her neck. Her leather sandal straps crisscrossed to her skinny knees. He could almost see her eyes under her thick, dark bangs. The rest of her hair was straight and hung limply past her shoulders.

"Do you want something from the store?" Frosted white lipstick. Lee smiled. He rather liked this odd girl.

"We're out of milk."

"Okay, Sammy." She lingered in the doorway. "Who's your friend?"

"Lee," Lee said. "I'm the new kid on the block."

"I could tell." Her voice seemed bored, disinterested, but still she hung in the doorway.

"Lee, this is Rainbow."

"Rainbow... nice to meet you."

"Yeah. Do you want something at the store?" She made it seem like another kind of invitation. It took him slightly aback.

"N-no, Rainbow. Thanks for asking."

"Peace, man." She waved her first two fingers at him in the classic v-sign and disappeared.

Lee caught Sam looking at him curiously. "She likes you."

"How can you tell?"

"She usually doesn't talk to people at all."

"At all?" Lee asked, but Sam had his head in his textbook again. He cleared his throat. "Sam. Back to the original question. Give me one good reason why I should be studying American History instead of going off to shoot some hoops."

Sam pushed his chair back. "Knowledge is power."

"Right." He said it with all the sarcasm he could muster.

"You're looking at it all wrong," Sam said. He pulled out his textbook and laid it open to the page with the map showing the Colonial States. "Do you play football?" he asked.

"Seriously?" Lee asked. He couldn't imagine where this was leading. "Of course I do!"

"Well, me too. Linebacker on the school team, so I know what I'm talking about. For a moment, imagine the North American continent like a playing field. The European settlers are here, on the line of scrimmage. They aim to capture the whole field, see. That's where the Louisiana Purchase comes in. Follow me so far?"

"Sure do," said a bewildered Lee. As Sam continued his football analogy, for once, he really did.

* * *
"I can't see why you need the truck on Saturday too," Uncle Jake grumped as he wolfed down his breakfast of steak and eggs. "I need the pick-up occasionally, you know. That's why I own one. But every time I turn around you've borrowed it again."

"Now, Jake," Grandma Michaels chided. "You were young once."

"At least when I was young, I remembered to put gas in the truck!" the man continued.

"I'm sorry, sir. I figured there was enough to get back down the mountain this morning. I'll do it first thing," Lee apologized. He stared at the uneaten hash browns on his plate. He hated it when his Uncle Jake carried on like this. It made him lose his appetite.

He'd take one of the horses, if it would stop Jake's constant harassment, but where would he stable it in town? This was 1971, not 1871! And he needed the pick-up to get to school and to Sam's study group. Because of Sam, he was starting to enjoy his American History class. It wasn't fair to have to beg for the truck every time he needed it. Especially since he suspected Uncle Jake made him beg just to spite him.

Lee suddenly wished Grandpa Michaels was here. Jake wasn't quite as bad when his father was around. Ever since Grandpa had left to escort Cousin Kay and her young son, Scott, back to wherever it was they came from, Jake had been in a bad mood. Lee didn't think he could take one more day of abuse, much less the week until Gramps was expected back.

He missed the little guy, too. Scott had been a real friend in the few short weeks they had spent together. Poor Scottie. Lee had asked Grandpa why Kay had needed him to go back with them. "Family Business," the old man had said gruffly. The "D" word wasn't in his vocabulary. Grandpa seemed to regard divorce within his family as some sort of personal failure. Now, Grandma was more pragmatic... He looked up from his plate to find her staring at him strangely.

"Are you all right, Lee? Your uncle is talking to you."

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"So, where you going?" Uncle Jake growled.

"I told you. I'm going to the library."

Jake raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Done your chores?"

"Yes, sir."

"Jake, Andy's coming up from school. He'll be here late tonight," Grandma added. "We'll have a good visit tomorrow. I've even baked some pies."

"This is the first I've heard of it!"

Lee fought the retort that sprang to his lips. It did no good to argue with Uncle Jake. The man was not only cantankerous, he had done violence on occasion. Lee swallowed instead, took a deep breath, and patiently repeated what he had told the man the day before.

"Andy's driving up from Albuquerque to deejay for that dance at the Junior High this afternoon after the game. We're meeting later at Sam's place. There's a party tonight at one of the frat houses. I'm driving Andy back up here after the party because his car needs some work. He's got a friend at the garage on Main who's going to work on it."

"Well, go on then."

Damn. It was that same belligerent tone.

"Thanks, sir." Lee threw his napkin down and scooted back his chair. There was an apology in Grandma's eyes as he left the table. He smiled back at her. It wasn't her fault Uncle Jake was a jerk. Lee was just glad he'd kept his cool. He wouldn't put it past Uncle Jake to hog tie him and shave his head if the man got riled. He'd done it to Andy one summer. It still bothered him to think about it. Lee protectively ran a hand through his long hair as he took his empty plate to the kitchen. Grandma Michaels followed him.

"Mind doing your Grandma a little favor?"

"What is it, Gran? You know I'd do anything for you." Her eyes twinkled at his flirting.

"Oh, Lee!" she chuckled. "Sometimes you're so like your grandfather! I need you to drop a pie by the Clark's on your way down the mountain. Okay?"

"Okay." His eyes grew wide as he saw the pie. It was deep dish and golden brown, and filled with plump dark berries. "Blackberry?"

"You bet. Still your favorite?"

"Are you kidding? Sure you can trust me?"

She smiled conspiratorially. "I've got two more where that came from. Play your cards right and you and Andy can share a whole one. There's ice cream too."

"Hide it for us in the usual place?"

She nodded. "I won't tell Jake. Now, scat!"

He took the pie for the Clarks and headed for the truck, nearly forgetting his books in his enthusiasm.

* * *
Mrs. Clark answered the bell. She was still weak from her recent hospitalization and looked very pale in the dark blue bathrobe. Her blonde hair was permed into tight wispy curls on her head. Her watery blue eyes looked surprised. "Lee? Why what's this?"

"Grandma baked some pies today, Ma'am," Lee managed politely. This was his third or fourth week of bringing food to the Clarks and he was getting used to the routine. "Thought you could use a little something to go with the coffee."

"You're such a charmer."

Lee smiled. At least the old ladies liked him. That had to count for something in this world. "I hope you're feeling better, Mrs. Clark."

"Every day is a trial, Lee, but thank you. Your Grandma is a gift."

"She really is, Ma'am."

"I've heard you're going to Santa Fe College."

"Yes, Ma'am. Just a history class."

"Maybe you know my daughter. She works in the cafeteria. Her name is Vonda. She's a nice girl. You'd like her."

"No, I don't know a Vonda."

"Well, you look her up when you get a chance, you hear?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He turned to go.

"And tell your Grandma thanks!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Mrs. Clark waved at him from the doorway as the old pick-up churned gravel from the driveway. He liked these errands of mercy his Grandma sent him on. They made him feel good. He whistled to himself as he drove the winding road down towards Santa Fe. The sun was just coming up over the mountain behind him. The radio was playing "Good-Day Sunshine!" A beautiful Saturday was ahead of him, Sam was waiting for him, Andy was coming today, and a whole pie was waiting in the pantry. Lee smiled and beat the steering wheel in time to the music. Life was good.

* * *
There was a group playing football on the grassy quad in front of the library. As he crossed the quad, a small, skinny body in hip-hugging bell bottom jeans and a tank top collided with him and the ball. They landed with a soft thud on the grass. He realized in the confusion that the body belonged to Rainbow. Despite her skinny legs, she was sure soft in all the spots that counted.

"Hi," he said, sitting up.

"Give us the ball, man." One of the other players came to stand over him, hands on his hips.

"Calm down, Jim. He's cool," said Rainbow. She took the ball from him, taking a moment to let her fingers brush his chest. "Where've you been, Lee?"

"Around." He gathered his books and papers and stood. "You're up early."

"Naw, good party last night!" she said, flashing him a smile. She started running after Jim. "Hey, Lee. You won't find Sam at the library."

"Where is he?" Lee felt suddenly stupid calling after her, carrying on the conversation so loudly, in public.

"He's at home. He crashed, man. No stamina."

"It's the Indian lover," Lee heard one of the boys say as they ran past him after the ball. The words sounded strange. It took a few moments for it to register that they were talking about his friendship with Sam. Big, friendly Sam, who was a star school football player, intelligent and kind. Lee shook his head slowly. Bigotry always surprised him, but it wasn't just that. He couldn't imagine anyone not liking big Sam Begay.

He resumed his trek to the library, then realized Rainbow had said that Sam was still at home. He turned back to the pick-up and headed for Sam's apartment.

The normally quiet, residential section Sam lived in was bustling with the usual Saturday activities. Neighbors were out mowing lawns, hosing off driveways and sidewalks, and walking dogs. As Lee pulled up in front of the apartment complex, some children rode by on their bicycles.

The apartment door was open. "Sam?" Lee called. He pushed the door open a little further, expanding his view of the sparsely furnished living room. There were empty beer cans stacked everywhere and a couple of empty pizza boxes in the middle of the floor. Somebody had spray-painted "MAO LIVES" in glo-red paint on the far wall since he was last here.

There was a faint herbal smoke smell still lingering despite the open door. Lee thought he recognized the smell of pot, but he saw the half burned incense sticks sitting in dixie cups on the coffee table and wasn't sure.

"Sam?" he repeated. He felt suddenly uncomfortable. This wasn't his kind of scene at all. He hadn't thought it was Sam's either. As he stood in the doorway, arms across his chest, frown on his face, there was a low moan from the far side of the room.

"Sam?"

"Yutahay." At least that's what it sounded like. Lee walked across the room to investigate. There was Sam, a very messy looking mountain of flesh behind the couch. His eyes were red and swollen shut, his hair matted and sticking straight up in back. There was a faintly blue bruise across one cheekbone.

"What time is it, Man?" The mountain moved, groaning. Slowly the man came to a sitting position.

"Almost nine. Are you alright? Did you get in a fight?"

"No fight, Man." San gingerly touched his bruised cheekbone. "Ouch. You hit me?"

"Not me," Lee protested.

"Oh, he's such a cheap drunk." A voice from the hallway. Lee whirled. Rainbow walked into the room carrying the football. She was alone and, Lee noticed for the first time, barefoot. "He had two beers and passed out. Think he hit the coffee table going down. We pushed him out of the way after a while."

"You just let him lie there?" Lee asked incredulously.

"People wanted to dance. You try moving him next time," came the pointed reply.

"It's okay." Sam struggled to his feet. "It's okay. It's not the first time. Just let me get cleaned up."

Lee watched him stagger into the bathroom, then looked appraisingly at Rainbow. She stared back. "Must have been some party last night."

"Sorry cuz you weren't invited?"

"Me? No. I... I'm just a little surprised."

"Yeah, you look pretty surprised. Want a beer?"

"Not for breakfast, thanks."

"I haven't been to bed yet, so it's okay." She flashed him a smile and disappeared into the kitchen for a moment. She came back popping the top of a beer can. She saluted him with the can. "How about that, the vandals left some." She took a deep swallow, tilting her head back. "Yes!" She giggled. "I'm coming down now. Whooo! Good party!" She whooped a few more times, dancing in a circle in the living room. Then, seeing his perplexed look, stood on her tip-toes, threw an arm around his neck and kissed him fervently on the mouth.

"Hey, you're not gay or anything?"

"What?"

"Kiss me back, stupid."

He did. She was soft and warm and tasted like beer. It was not an unpleasant sensation.

"That's better," she said, releasing her hold on him. "I knew I'd like kissing you."

"Likewise." He hoped he didn't sound too goofy.

"Bye," she said, backing out of the room down the hall. "I mean, g'night." He heard her giggling until the bedroom door slammed shut.

Five minutes later, Sam walked into the room, shoving his shirttails into his tight jeans. "I hope this is an improvement," he mumbled, "I've got a killer headache and there's no aspirin in the cupboard."

"Sorry, can't help you," Lee sympathized. "Are you still up for the library?"

Sam grabbed his hat and crammed it onto his head. "Yeah, I gotta finish the research on my paper. Let's go."

They were both quiet on the way to the car. As Lee played with the car's ancient ignition, Sam stared out the window. Finally the old Chevy roared to life.

"Good game last night," Lee ventured. "You played well."

"Yeah? Well maybe you didn't notice we lost." Sam slipped farther down into the worn upholstery.

"The season hasn't officially started yet. It didn't count," Lee said in exasperation. "You're allowed."

"It's football," Sam said darkly. "It's important to me."

"You're my friend," Lee countered. "That happens to be important to me."

Sam stole a look at Lee, his face impassive. "I let Peterson get past me, Man. Peterson. It turned the whole game. I shouldn't have let it happen. The coach really chewed my ass."

"Yeah, well, maybe even you Indian warrior types screw up occasionally."

Sam's eyes narrowed.

"It's a joke, Sam. Lighten up. If you won't talk to me, I'll never pass American History."

"Indian warrior types don't screw up."

The wrong tack. He knew it. Lee felt his composure leaving him totally. How well did he really know his new friend? Here he was offending the man! He felt his hands slick with sweat on the steering wheel as he guided the truck into the library parking lot. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean..."

"My tribe is a peace-loving tribe, you stupid White person."

Lee silently hoped it was a smile that he saw on Sam's face. "That explains it, then," he said casually. There was a short silence as the truck rolled into a parking spot and Lee killed the engine.

"You really saw the game?"

"Sure. I meant it when I said you played well. You've got a lot of speed and agility for a big guy."

"That's what coach says. He says the scouts have already noticed me."

"So what's the problem?"

Sam didn't answer. He got out of the truck and stretched his legs. "Let's hit the books Que No Sabe."

"You got that part right," Lee said morosely, looking up at the library with foreboding.

* * *
Despite Lee's initial feelings about the library and studying in general, the next few hours passed quickly. He was lost in a book on early American Indians, when a shadow fell over him and a familiar voice said, "Now I've seen everything."

Lee almost dropped the book in surprise. "Andy!" he said in a loud voice that, suddenly remembering where he was, hushed immediately. "You're not supposed to be here until noon."

Andy looked at his watch. "It's a quarter after," he commented. "I'm starving, where's your friend? We can go for burgers down at the Frosty Freeze."

"Sam? He was right here." Lee looked around him for the first time in nearly an hour. Sam Begay was nowhere to be seen. "That's funny. He was just here."

"C'mon then, let's go. I've been sitting for hours in a car. I'm starving!"

"Sure thing." Lee put the book down. "Let me just see if I can find him, okay?"

"Okay." Andy sat down at the table, easing his short legs in their tooled leather boots into the chair beside him.

It was a small library. The floor they were on was nearly deserted. Lee's quick trip around the stacks met with no success.

"He's gone, I guess," Lee finally admitted with a twinge of guilt. "He wasn't feeling well, maybe he went home."

"Let's go, Cuz." Andy was heading towards the door. "Double cheeseburgers, fries and a strawberry shake, whattya say?" Lee wasn't following him.

"Lee?"

Lee was hastily scribbling a note on a bit of notebook paper. He folded it, and put Sam's name on the front. "Just in case."

"No problem," Andy said as he waited patiently for Lee to give the note to the librarian by the front doors. He listened while Lee explained to the woman that Sam wouldn't be hard to spot. "He's one of the tallest men on campus. You can't miss him." The woman looked dubious, but took the note.

"Let's go. I got a surprise for you."

Lee was surprised when Andy tossed him the car keys. "You drive," Andy offered. "I've had my share for today."

"Drive what?" Lee looked around for Andy's tan Volkswagen bug.

Andy pointed to the souped up red Camaro next to him.

"You're kidding?"

"I do not kid about a V-8 engine and racing tires... I got her up to 120 on that really straight stretch this morning. Not a shimmy. These cars are really built."

"I know." Lee ran a loving hand along the fender. He was impressed. Sam was instantly forgotten. "Got many miles on her?"

"Only 60,000 or so," Andy said. "But I really checked it out before I bought her. We're talking new shocks, new brakes, and a new carburetor. I tuned it up myself before I came."

Lee slid behind the wheel. "So, why're you taking it over to Del's?"

"Mainly to gloat."

Lee smiled. "Gotta make up for those payments somehow!" A turn of the key and the engine literally hummed. Not like that old pickup he had to fight for, he thought ruefully. He revved it a moment. "Feel that power." He said to himself, lost in a memory, but the statement brought a glow of pride to Andy's face.

"I done good, huh?"

"Ya done real good, Pard."

"So let's rustle up some grub," Andy drawled.

Lee popped the clutch and the Camaro spun out of the lot in a spray of gravel. "That felt good."

"Um," Andy nodded appreciately. "Real good."

They drove a block to Main and turned a sharp right, new tires squealing.

Suddenly Andy sat up. "Hey," he pointed. "Isn't that Uncle Jake's pickup?"

"Wha...?" Lee turned his head to catch a glimpse of the old yellow Chevy zooming past the Frosty Freeze and turning down a side street. His foot jammed the accelerator as he swung the car around in pursuit.

"That sure looked like it."

"I know," Lee said grimly. What he didn't add was that the driver had looked like his friend, Sam. He caught a glimpse of the bright yellow tailgate again as he rounded the corner of Third Street. They sat trapped by a red light, watching the truck disappear into the traffic.

"Why does it look like he's heading for Mountain Rim Road?" Andy asked. The road was the way up the mountain to Jake's ranch.

Lee bit his lip. Could it have been Uncle Jake he saw? The man also wore cowboy hats as a rule. "You don't think Jake would be low enough to..."

They exchanged quick looks as the light went green and Lee set the Camaro into motion once more. They went several blocks before they saw him again. He was just far enough away to make it difficult to catch up to him in traffic. There was no mistaking which direction they were headed in, though. Lee shifted gears as they started climbing. He wished he'd brought his driving gloves. It was hard holding the curves at the speed he was maintaining. He glanced into the rearview mirror.

"No cops, I've been checking." Andy hung on to the door handle to steady himself against his cousin's breakneck assault of the mountain. "He's driving the old Chevy. We're bound to catch up with him soon."

Lee concentrated on the winding road. He was glad he knew it so well, otherwise, it would be easy to misjudge the speed and sail right off the edge of the precipice.

"Where did you learn to drive like this?" Andy finally whispered in a voice filled with awe and not a little fear.

"It's what I majored in at Stanford." Lee felt great, the adrenalin was really pumping. There was nothing to beat the feeling you got from driving a machine with such power under the hood. It was almost better than sex, he thought mischievously. He relished the howl of the wind through the open windows and the taste of danger in every curve of the road. "I met this girl at Stanford," he began explaining. "Her father races cars professionally. He was training for Le Mans. He taught me a thing or two. He was talking about taking me with him."

"Then what happened? She broke up with you?"

"Naw. 'Sides, I was more interested in her Dad's cars than her." Lee paused to negotiate another curve. "I was caught drag racing. Well, actually, the other guy totalled his car, almost killed himself."

"Tough break."

"It was awful."

Lee slowed the car to what seemed like a crawl. "Where did we lose him?"

"What?" Andy hadn't seen anything.

"He hasn't been through here. I've been following the dust trail... I can't see it anymore."

Andy whistled softly. "The old Morrow place?"

"That's what I was thinking." Lee turned the car around and headed for the narrow dirt turnoff that marked the beginning of the Morrow property. A couple of hundred yards down the lane, he switched off the ignition and coasted into some bushes.

"Why'd you cut the engine?"

"Just in case." Lee surveyed the area. "Maybe we'd should hide the car a little better."

Andy agreed. He wasn't taking any chances with his new car. They left the Camaro camouflaged with some underbrush and began skirting the dirt lane, looking for signs of the old yellow truck.

"I feel like a spy," Andy whispered after they had trudged a quarter of a mile through the grass. "If you forget Uncle Jake's gonna kills us, this is almost fun. 'Member those games we used to play up the mountain?"

Lee put a finger to his lips, cautioning Andy to silence. He was just going check the lane behind them, when a deep voice stopped him.

"Now turn real slow," the voice said.

Both Lee and Andy raised their hands in surrender. They turned to find themselves face to face with two nasty looking gentlemen in Brooks Brothers suits. The men were holding very businesslike semi-automatic weapons. This was not in any scenario Lee had imagined.

Lee smiled apologetically at Andy. "Oops."

"What are you doing here?"

"Howdy, we're practically neighbors." Andy grinned broadly and stuck out his hand in his best 'aw shucks' attitude... "The name's Andy Travis. Maybe you know my uncle? Jake Michaels? His spread's up the mountain a ways. We, uh,..." The men ignored the proffered hand. "We, uh, came to... "

"We thought we saw our uncle drive in here. The place has been vacant, so we thought we'd check it out."

"Yeah," Andy added for emphasis. "Seein' as we're neighbors and all, I'm sure if you put the guns away, Grandma Michaels will be happy to have you over for dinner."

"As a gesture of, uh, uh, well... uh, welcome," Lee added lamely.

One of the gunmen started laughing. "Cute, real cute. Chavez is gonna love these two."

"Chavez." Lee seized the opportunity. "Does he happen to have a yellow '57 Chevy pickup truck?"

"I don't think so," the taller of the two replied. "Now, maybe you'd better come have a talk with him yourself. Chavez don't like snoops."

The foursome continued down the lane another quarter of a mile before rounding a bend that brought them into full view of the rambling old Morrow ranch house. It had been empty for at least a decade and bore the signs of neglect and decay. The windows were nearly all broken, and Lee could see that many of the roof tiles were missing from the Spanish style structure. Wild vines had overrun the facade years ago. What had once been an elegant sweep of lawn with a fountain and flagstone steps leading from the house, was now a dismal jungle of weeds. Mr. Chavez obviously didn't go in for gardening, Lee thought ruefully. He wondered what these men were up to. There was no sign of the yellow pickup.

Lee remembered venturing into this house on a few courageous excursions with his three cousins many years ago. The place had a mysterious quality about it then, now it just looked dilapidated. It contrasted oddly with the splendid white limousine parked by the side of the house in the drive next to the ruined stone chimney.

"Around the side by the car," the tall man directed, nudging Andy with the barrel of his gun. There was a door into the house on the other side of the chimney. They had to step over fallen bricks to get to it. Lee noted the location of the car, the driveway and the chimney carefully. There had to be a painless way out of this situation. He wondered how difficult it would be to hotwire the limo. Or incapacitate it.

His musings were cut short as he and Andy were ushered into a small, windowless room. The bolt screeched into place as the door was locked behind them. Lee winced. "Needs WD-40," he quipped.

"Great." Andy strained to see the time on his watch in the dim light. "It's almost one-thirty. I'm supposed to be at the school cafeteria in an hour. The dance starts no later than three. I left crazy Morton Banning to set up all the equipment while I went to find you for a quick lunch."

"Yeah, well, speaking of which, boy, am I hungry."

"Me too. So, how are we going to get out of here?" Andy tried pummeling the door with his fist. It was more solid than it looked. He nursed his bruised hand in angry silence.

Lee was about to say he just didn't know, when the door opened. The tall man entered, without his weapon.

"Mr. Chavez will see you now."

* * *
Someone had taken the trouble to redecorate one of the interior rooms of the house. The windows had been replaced and painted over in a light color to let in the light. Despite this, it was still a beautiful room. The carpeting was a lush, sculptured rose color. Lee recognized at once the Queen Anne styling of the furnishings, with their dark cherry wood and gracefully curving legs. Andy was impressed mainly that someone had taken the trouble to lug this stuff up to the decaying house.

Chavez sat in a cream colored, wingback chair. He was elegantly dressed in grey with a white silk shirt and a maroon silk tie. The pale upholstery accentuated the darkness of his Hispanic good looks. To Lee he appeared to be fairly young, with a thin athletic build beneath the expensive suit. He had high cheekbones and dark, brooding eyes below the thatch of jet black hair. An empty brandy snifter sat on a small table at his side. He didn't get up as they entered, but he did lay aside the book he had been reading. It was War and Peace, Lee noted with interest.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I trust you have not been treated too roughly by Bob and Franklin. They get carried away sometimes. We get so few visitors."

"I think there's been some mistake," Lee began. "We were out looking for an old yellow Chevy pickup. We thought we'd spotted it and came to investigate. This place has always been empty." Stick as close to the truth as possible, that's what the Colonel always said.

"So Franklin tells me," Chavez said with a cold smile. "There's no truck here, gentlemen."

"Okay. Yeah, well, if that's all, we'll just be going," said Lee.

"Nice meeting you and all," Andy added, taking his cue. They turned to leave.

"Wait just a moment." Chavez rose from his chair. Lee was surprised at how short he was. Even Andy towered over him. He seemed so formidable seated in the chair. Chavez pointed at Lee. "You're Sam Begay's friend, aren't you?"

Lee was taken aback. So there was a connection after all! "Y-yess," he admitted. "How do you know that? Do you know Sam?" His heart was pounding so loudly he thought it was going to come through his chest.

"I make it my business to know everything I can about this little community," Chavez said ominously. "You will give him a message from me?"

"Sure."

"Tell him I'm very... disappointed in him. Can you do that? Tell him we have an arrangement. I expect to hear from him soon."

"Yes, sir." Lee said. He and Andy exchanged looks.

"And gentlemen... this business of using guns is a very strange one. So few people in the city are familiar with what a gun sounds like that very often one could fire in the middle of the night without any inquiries being made. Do you understand? I would hate for either of you young men to have an... accident."

"I understand," Lee said soberly. The man was threatening them!

"Franklin will escort you back to the road."

To their relief, the sinister Franklin only walked them halfway. They sprinted the rest of the way to where the Camaro lay undisturbed beneath the underbrush screen.

Inside the car, they sat for a moment, catching their breath. Andy buckled his seat belt and turned to Lee. "Let's get out of here! Look, my hands are shaking!"

"Yeah, mine too," Lee lied. His hands were steady. On the race back to the car fear had left him, in its place a deadly calm.

The drive down the mountain was more sedate than the trip up. They pulled into the Junior High parking lot a few minutes after two-thirty. Andy hurriedly jumped from the car and sprinted up the steps to the auditorium, then stopped. He ran back to the car. "See you at five-thirty?"

"Hey, why don't I grab some double cheeseburgers and meet you back here earlier than that. Will they let you eat on the job?"

"You're a life-saver! Thanks. I'll take a break a little after four. See ya, Cuz!" With that, he rushed back towards the auditorium, stopping only to give Lee a brief wave as he disappeared into the building.

Lee backed the car out of the lot and headed towards the College library. As he expected, the spot where he had left the truck was empty. A thought hit him and, for the first time, he checked his pockets for the keys Uncle Jake had given him. They were gone. Now how did Sam manage that? He needed to be more alert, he told himself.

Inside the library, the middle-aged librarian told him no one answering Sam's description had been by. She gave him back his note. Scribbled on the bottom of the note was a telephone number and the name Vera. The smile she flashed was meaningful. He thanked her and left, too preoccupied to do more than give her an absent smile.

It was a quick ride over to the apartment where Sam lived. As Lee pulled up, he noted that the apartment door was closed for once. A burly man opened the door in answer to his insistent knocking. Lee recognized one of the members of the football team.

"Is Sam home?"

"Nope." The door started to close.

"Wait, is Rainbow here?"

"She's at work," came the curt reply.

"Where does she work?" Lee tried.

"Student Union." The door slammed shut.

"Thanks so much," Lee told the door. "Always a pleasure to see you too."

He was probably crazy to think Rainbow knew anything about anything, but it was worth a try. Besides, he wouldn't mind seeing her again.

"I'm sorry, but we don't have anyone by the name of Rainbow working here," the shift supervisor said patiently. "We give students first priority on jobs. That leaves few jobs for women. We employ maybe twenty non-students throughout the various shifts. I'd say half of those were women. They're all in food services, I believe. I'd remember a name like that."

Lee sighed and thanked the man. He had wasted nearly half an hour wandering around the various rooms of the Student Union before he'd thought to ask. Discouraged, he headed towards the main lobby. A delicious aroma accosted him as he walked down the hall. The answering growl in his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since that morning.

He entered the line with the idea that he'd grab a little something to tide him over until he could get to the Frosty Freeze.

The elderly woman behind the glass counter pointed with her spoon to a lumpy brown dish in the warmer in front of her. "Would you like the special, Honey?" The yellow hairnet contrasted oddly with her white hair, Lee noted, but the candy-striped aprons the kitchen workers all wore were at least cheerful.

"Do you know anyone named Rainbow?" he ventured. The woman smiled and shook her head.

He made his choices and moved along the line, rounding a curve out of sight of the main doorways. At the end of the line sat the cashiers. There were two of them, a guy and a girl. She had her back to him, lost in conversation with her male counterpart. A sign at the top of the register announced, "Hi, my name is Vonda." Beneath it was printed, "Have a nice day".

Lee set his tray down on the metal counter with a clang. The girl turned around. Their eyes met.

"Hi," she said enthusiastically.

"Vonda?" It took him a moment before the information sunk in. Then the name rang a clear bell. "Vonda Clark?" Had it only been this morning that the tired Mrs. Clark had wished him a pleasant day? It suddenly seemed like it was long ago, so many things had happened since.

She went wide eyed. "Now, Lee, how did you know that?"

"I'm just psychic," Lee said.

"I bet Sam told you."

Without all the heavy black eyeliner and the frosted white lipstick, she was actually quite pretty, he noted. Well, if you discounted the hairnet.

"I like the hairnet, Vonda," he said, grinning.

She nervously glanced over her shoulder. "Let me ring you up, the supervisor's watching. She hurried through the exchange, taking his money and counting out his change expertly.

"Have you seen Sam?" he asked when she was through.

"No, I thought he was spending the day with you?"

"I, uh, lost him," Lee admitted.

"You're holding up the line," Vonda whispered.

"Sorry." He turned self-consciously. There were several people behind him in the line. Their anxious faces were fixed on him.

"Hungry people can be vicious," he murmured to Rainbow as he left her station. He heard her soft giggle behind him as he found a quiet table and began his assault on the chicken salad sandwich and fries. It looked worse on his plate than it had on the counter behind the glass. He did a taste test. The fries were soggy, the white bread was dry, but the chicken salad itself wasn't bad. He managed to wolf it down hungrily, followed by a red punch "chaser".

He would have just enough time to grab a burger for Andy and head off... where? He was running out of ideas and he wasn't keen on driving up the mountain one more time without a plan. He sat tracing the water rings on the table with one finger. Sam, Sam, Sam. What did you do with Uncle Jake's truck? And why?

Rainbow slid into the seat in front of him. "You look sorta pathetic. Anything I can do?" The pink hairnet was gone.

Lee looked up and shook his head. "You on break?"

"I have ten minutes. The sandwich was pretty barfy, huh?"

"I've had worse."

"They put grapes in the chicken salad. Gross." She rolled her eyes. "So what's the scoop on Sam?"

"He took my uncle's truck. I haven't seen him since noon."

"He's not a thief, you know."

"I know." Their eyes met. There was something unreadable in her frank gaze. He wondered what information lay behind those pretty blue eyes that she wasn't telling him. "He's got a few more hours before I call the police to report it."

"You wouldn't!"

"If I don't, Uncle Jake will," he said truthfully. "Do you have any idea what he could be doing?"

She shook her head. "He's having a tough time right now. You have to understand."

Somehow he didn't quite believe that was all. He had another question, and it was a long shot. "Ever heard of a man named Chavez?"

Lee hadn't expected her reaction. She gasped and dropped the french fry she had been playing with off his plate. Maybe there was some of Vonda Clark left in her after all. "You know him."

"Never heard of him."

"So why're you blushing?" Good Lord, he thought. She was literally squirming in her seat. He wondered now more than ever what Chavez was up to and how Sam tied into all of this.

"I'm not." She started to get up.

Lee was out of his seat in a flash. He grabbed her arm. "Not so fast." He slammed her down into her seat again. "I think we need to have a talk."

"I thought that's what we were having." Her lower lip came out, petulantly.

"No, a real talk."

"I thought you wanted to find Sam."

"I do." Exasperated, he slapped his hands down hard on the table. "Okay, Rainbow. I know all about Chavez. So where can I find Sam?"

She stared at him a full minute before answering. "You're too young to be with the Feds."

"Wha...?"

"I mean, I remember you from when I was a kid on the mountain."

"You do?"

"I was too little for you to notice me. I used to play with the Carmichael kids the few times they came to visit, but Murphy was up on the mountain a lot."

"Murph? Murphy Michaels."

"Murphy was my best friend."

"He was?"

Lee knew she was playing sympathies, skirting the questions. He had a sudden picture in his mind of Mrs. Clark, pale and quiet. She and her daughter were quite the study in contrasts. "We're not talking ancient history right now, Rainbow. We're talking about something sinister going on right here in Santa Fe."

"Yeah. Trouble in River City... Lee you've got it all wrong. Look, it's no big deal. Sam is just trying to get back to his roots. He's into some kinda nature trip right now. Things he learned from his grandfather, the medicine man. He thinks it will help him get his head together. He probably didn't think you'd understand. You know?"

"No, I don't kn..." he began.

She interrupted. "Look, my break is over. Sorry I can't help you any more."

He glanced at the big clock on the wall. I was almost four. He sighed. "Why do I have this feeling that you could help me if you really wanted to?" he complained.

She finally smiled. "You worry too much." She got up slowly, stretching. The movement wasn't wasted on him. Even in the candy-striped apron she had a great figure. "I get off at nine."

"If I come by for you at nine, do I get Vonda or Rainbow?" he teased.

"Whichever you prefer," she said saucily.

"I'll be here. Surprise me."

Lee watched her disappear behind the kitchen door, before he strolled back to where he left the Camaro. He didn't see it in the lot at first and his stomach lurched. He looked again. There it was, behind the van. He told himself sternly to 'cool his jets'. His conversation with Rainbow had left his nerves on edge.

* * *
Andy was waiting in the parking lot.

"Hi. Come on. There are picnic tables on the patio between the auditorium and the cafeteria." He looked dubiously at the white paper sack. "Not joining me in the feeding frenzy?"

"One of the fries and a regular cheeseburger are mine. You can have the rest."

Andy accepted the Frosty Freeze bag gratefully. "They've asked for 'Louie Louie' twelve times. Thank heavens they like Led Zep and Credence too or I'd go nuts." They strolled around to the picnic tables and chose a relatively clean one in the shade.

Lee laughed. "Sounds like you're having a great time."

"It's going well, I guess. No rough stuff, even though they're pretty wired after the game. Which they won, by the way. At least they're dancing."

"I thought I'd find you surrounded by nubile pre-teen nymphets."

Andy laughed and shook his head. "Don't think the thought hasn't crossed my mind. A couple of those 14 year-olds look more 21 than 14. It's distracting." He took a large bite of his double cheeseburger. There were a few moments of silence. "Found the truck?"

Lee sighed. "Nope. But I've got a date for tonight."

"Hallelujah. Hell with the truck, that lack of a date business was really starting to worry me," Andy said mischievously. Then his face grew serious. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to Sam's one more time to see if he's come home. Then, I guess I'm going back up the mountain to see if there's any other dirt track around the old Morrow place where he might've disappeared."

"I wish you wouldn't go alone."

"I'll be all right."

"Yeah. Lee Stetson, kick-boxing champion of the barracks... just be careful, okay?"

Lee nodded. "One of Sam's roommates says Sam is trying to 'get back to his roots'. How do you think that involves the truck and the mountain?"

Andy chewed thoughtfully. "Some sort of tribal ritual maybe?"

"Are any of his people on the mountain?"

"Heck if I know. Maybe Uncle Jake knows."

"I'm not going to be the one to ask him!"

Suddenly the door to the cafeteria opened and a young woman walked onto the patio area. "Are you coming soon?" she called to Andy. "Morton is really making a fool of himself." She had her hands on her hips and a pair of great legs that were not hidden by her orange paisley mini-skirt.

"Oh-oh, here comes the cops," Andy murmured.

Lee took in the large hoop earrings and the stylishly cut short-short blonde hair. He didn't think she looked like school administration at all. He looked back at Andy. Andy had a strange grin on his face.

"Heidi, meet my cousin, Lee Stetson. Heidi is the Assistant Principal of Dwight D. Eisenhower Junior High."

"Hello, Heidi."

"Hi, Lee. Nice meeting you. Now, Andy, hurry up!"

Andy popped the last of his fries into his mouth. "See ya later. Thanks again."

"No problem."

"I'll be done here at five-thirty."

"I know."

"Stay out of trouble." He disappeared into the building, leaving Heidi regarding Lee thoughtfully.

"You have a nice cousin."

"I like him."

"I've seen you before, haven't I?"

Lee shrugged. "I don't think so. I'm pretty new here."

She paused a moment. "I've seen you on the college campus," she finally said. "You're friends with that big Indian fellow."

"That's what I get for having a high-profile friend, I guess," Lee suggested good-naturedly.

"You seem like a nice guy. Take my advice. Stay away from him."

Lee bristled at the comment. "Lady, I'm not a racist."

"I'm not talking racism, Lee," her tone was friendly, light. "That guy hangs with a bad crowd. Believe me, I know a few things. One of my friends is a... counsellor at the College."

"Like what kind of things?" Lee pressed. The collar of his denim shirt suddenly felt tight.

"Can you be so naive? He's heavily into drugs, for one thing, and heaven knows what else. They say he's on the verge of losing his scholarship, despite his incredible talent. It's sad, but I think you'd be better off to stay away." She gave him a little apologetic smile. "I'd better get back to chaperoning. It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise."

She left Lee alone on the patio. He could hear the beginning of a slow Carpenters' ballad coming through the open doors. It made him feel lonely. He was capable of looking after himself, he told himself sternly, but he earnestly hoped Heidi was wrong about Sam Begay.

* * *
Strains of The Doors followed close upon the Carpenters, and Andy sat back in his chair. He liked watching the kids on the dance floor. They did their best to express themselves in the same way as their college-age counterparts, in spite of the rigid dress codes imposed by the Junior High.

Heidi slipped into the seat next to him. It was almost private; she was all but hidden from the dancers by the large black speakers. He enjoyed the way her mini-skirt hiked up to the very tops of her thighs when she sat down. It was hard to think of her as an "older woman", even though she was a good six years his senior.

"Wanna dance?" He asked playfully. "I promise I won't tell."

She didn't respond to his request. Instead she put her hand on his arm and said, "Andy, I'm worried about your cousin."

"Lee? Why should you be worried about Lee?"

"Don't act so coy. He's made some dangerous friends in the short time he's been here."

"Dangerous! Aw, c'mon!" Her statement echoed his own growing suspicions. Andy shifted uncomfortably. He liked Heidi, but he had only known her for a short time. He wasn't sure how much to tell her about the events of the day.

"Andy, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but ... " She glanced around to make sure no one else was close enough to overhear. "There is a rather large scale Federal investigation going on here right now. Very few people know about it."

"What has that got to do with Lee?" Andy could feel a frisson of fear at her words.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me he's not doing drugs."

Andy gaped at her. "Heidi, Lee doesn't have anything to do with drugs. He just isn't the type!"

Her face remained impassive. "Then tell me why's he involved with a character like Sam Begay."

Andy had a sick feeling beginning in his stomach. It was time for another record. He shook himself into action, despite the turmoil he was feeling at her statement. Soon, "American Woman" was blaring from the speakers.

She was silent, waiting for his response, staring at him with those expressive eyes of hers. "Heidi," he began again. "How do you know about all this? Is Lee in danger?"

"I... I can't tell you. I've already said too much." The pained look on her face told him she was sincere. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Trust me. Tell Lee to be careful. He'll listen to you. I've gotta go." She got up abruptly and went to mingle with the other chaperons at the punch table.

Andy sat quietly until the record came to an end. He slipped the next disc into place. Suddenly, he knew. A large scale Federal investigation! And drugs! So, that was the link between Sam and that man named Chavez. It had to be! It all made sense now... and the bust was going down tonight. That was the only explanation for Heidi's warning. Lee's friend Sam was a part of the puzzle, and Lee was walking right into it. No matter how innocent his cousin was of wrongdoing, it would only be his word against theirs. Andy started to sweat, watching the minutes tick by. Here he sat - trapped by the immense, rented sound equipment and three hundred gyrating adolescents.

Five-Thirty seemed very far away.

* * *
"Hit him again."

Sam Begay moaned as the heavy leather boot crashed into his ribs once more. He could taste the dust in his mouth as his head hit the coarse grained wooden floor. He grabbed his side in pain.

"So what were you trying to do, Sam?" Chavez held one of the white, funnel shaped flowers in his hands.

"He was sending' ya flowers, boss," Franklin said with a giggle. "Ain't that right?"

Bob had an armful of the weeds. "These were all over the cab."

Chavez crushed one of the blossoms in his fingers. "What is it, Sam? Not a poppy?" He smelled it carefully. "Well, Sam? What was important enough for you to risk coming up here one more time?"

Sam looked up from his position on the floor of the old barn. His right leg had twisted painfully under him and now he straightened it carefully, leaning back against the old pickup as he did so. He felt humiliated and he hurt, but he still had enough hate in him to glare back at Chavez. "No, not a poppy. Just some wild flowers. Research for a term paper."

Chavez laughed softly. "I thought we told you to back off, Sam. I thought Franklin explained it to you last night." His voice was deathly quiet, yet it carried in the stillness, echoing off the rafters.

Sam rubbed the bruise on his forehead at the memory. "Yeah, he 'explained' it all right."

"So, what were you doing on my property, Sam?"

Sam tried to get up off the floor, but Franklin pushed him back down. There was a smile on his pockmarked face. "Maybe I didn't explain it good enough, boss. Maybe I should try again."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment. When he did, it was Rosemary's face that surfaced in his mind. That dear little face. Chavez had ruined her. Used her up. Left her to die in her big brother's arms. "No, you don't have to explain it again. Just let me leave."

"I don't think I can do that, Sam," Franklin said, still smiling. "Can I?"

"What are you doing with the flowers, Sam?"

"I thought we'd have some tea, Chavez." Sam coughed. His ribs hurt when he did. "He held his chest and tried to breathe calmly till the pain subsided.

"Tea?" Chavez' curiosity was peaked.

"Ancient tribal custom," Sam said tersely.

"I thought you said it was research for a term paper?

"Yes. That too." Sam sighed, holding his side. He wondered how much he should say. Perhaps it didn't matter any more. He had a sinking feeling that this time was different. There was no cavalry this time. Not even his skinny, pixie friend Rainbow to intervene on his behalf as she had last night.

It bothered him that it had to end like this. He'd worked so hard to find Chavez after Rosemary died.

Little Rosemary. She was the only real family he'd ever had. Before she got involved with Chavez she'd been the sunshine of his life. Then one night she had run away, leaving a note explaining she'd fallen in love and was going to marry an older man. She was only fifteen. Six months later she was dead.

Oh, it had taken time to get close to Chavez, but he'd managed it. He knew they didn't trust him, but Sam was used to risks. He'd waited for the perfect opportunity for his revenge.

Suddenly, miraculously, everything had fallen into place this afternoon. He'd been reading the book on Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson, of all people. Thomas Jefferson and his comments on Jimson Weed in that big book entitled, "Jefferson the Botanist". He recognized the description of the plant immediately from the text. It was the weed his grandfather had told him about when he was a little boy. The weed the medicine man had used in the old days to provide the mystic visions that guided the tribe.

Sam hadn't known the weed could kill. Discovering that had been a revelation of utmost importance. Its poison was difficult to trace, and he knew where to find it. It was plentiful up in the mountain meadows... and using the sacred weed to bring about Chavez' death was somehow appropriate.

In his excitement he'd borrowed Lee's truck and raced up the mountain to put his plan into action. Unfortunately, Chavez' men had trapped him in the old barn behind the Morrow place. He hadn't had a chance. Some plan. He'd been a fool to think it would work. A double fool to run out on Lee that way. Lee would've let him borrow the truck if he'd asked. But Lee would have made him explain things he didn't want to explain, even to his one good friend.

"Would you like to participate in an ancient ceremony and have some medicine man tea?" he finally said, smiling a cold smile.

"What an excellent idea," Chavez said, tossing the crushed blossom to the floor. He gave a quick hand signal to Franklin, and Sam found his arms being pinned behind him. Handcuffs clicked into place. "Perhaps you'll join me in my study."

Perhaps you'll join me in hell, Sam thought grimly, just before the gun crashed down on his skull and he sank to the rotting floorboards of the old barn once more.

* * *
Lee left the Junior High and began wandering the streets of Santa Fe aimlessly. He wasn't sure what his next move should be. He finally pulled into the Frosty Freeze for a root beer. He needed a plan. He took his time drinking the soda at the curb service lot, watching the perky waitresses in their short green uniforms dashing between the cars on roller skates.

He knew there was always a reason behind the things people did. At least, that's what Grandma Michaels was fond of saying. If you understand their motivations, the rest falls into place. He slurped the rest of his root beer and dumped the cup onto the tray attached to the car window. One of the waitresses skated past, expertly removed the tray and pocketed the tip in one smooth maneuver.

"Catch you later, Cowboy," the girl said as she whizzed by.

He smiled in appreciation at her retreating green posterior, then stuck the key in the ignition once more. No more stalling. He had to give it one more try.

When the red Camaro swung into Sam Begay's apartment complex parking for the umpteenth time that day, Lee hit the brakes in surprise. There in the middle of the fire lane, was Uncle Jake's yellow pickup.

"This is too easy," he murmured to himself, swinging the sports car into a handy parking spot. He ran to the truck. It was filthy. The underside was bathed in mud. Otherwise, it looked unharmed. He put a hand on the hood. The motor was still warm. Through the window he could see the keys still rocking gently in the ignition.

A bee buzzed angrily by his ear. He brushed it away as another sped by. Then some sixth sense suddenly kicked in, telling him he knew that sound. His body took over instantly. He dropped and rolled under the truck before his conscious mind noted he was being shot at. Lee peeked from under the truck, but couldn't see anyone.

The buzzing sound came again. Dangerously close. Lee's crazy Army upbringing had at least given him an edge when it came to playing this deadly game, he thought ruefully. He could tell somebody had gone to the trouble of using a silencer in this quiet, suburban neighborhood. Lee suspected it'd thrown the balance of the gun off. He was grateful. He preferred staying alive.

There was a small bunch of weeds with funnel shaped white flowers lying on the ground by the driver's side just under his nose. From where he lay, flat on his belly, he could see a trail of the weeds at irregular intervals leading away from the drive up the stairs towards Sam's apartment.

They were after Sam. They had to be. Lee had just happened by at the wrong time. There were two more shots, then silence. It was strangely quiet. Lee heard the sound of some women coming up the walk with the familiar crunch of paper shopping bags.

He waited until he could see their sandaled feet on the other side of the truck. He rolled out from under the pickup and stood, praying he'd guessed right.

One of them screamed.

"Oh, shut up, Maybelle, it's only a young man."

Lee glanced around quickly, but could see no one else around. He gave a courteous nod of his head. "Sorry to startle you ladies, but I was trying to see where the rattle was coming from. These old trucks are so temperamental." He stopped to see if they were buying it, but the two senior citizens were smiling serenely at him. He got an idea.

"Say, let me help you carry that heavy sack," he offered, deftly removing the grocery bag from the frail old woman closest to him. "Nonsense, it's no trouble."

He was lucky. They only lived four doors down from Sam's place. He found himself wondering how they fared on weekends when college party mentality settled in on their younger neighbors. At least they still thought well of young people, he thought as they thanked him sweetly and showed him to the door.

He walked quickly to Sam's apartment, muscles poised to hit the dirt at the slightest provocation. He made it without incident. He tried the door and slipped into the room.

Lee found himself immediately slammed up against the wall with the blunt muzzle of a standard issue .38 nearly shoved up his nose. The person holding it, a grim-faced man with a pencil thin moustache, snarled, "Hold it right there, Buddy." He was wearing a grey suit. His black visor cap had "D.E.A." embroidered on the front in large, white letters. "Let's see some I.D."

Lee swallowed hard, and got out his license and student I.D. "So, you were the ones taking pot shots at me in the parking lot. You could have hit the old ladies, you know." The gun in his face had no silencer, but he figured the news would give the officer some food for thought.

The man was already frisking him. He stopped. "Whaddju say?" He glanced at the license. "Whaddju say, er, Lee?"

"Bullets were flying in the parking lot. Just now. I didn't think it was the D.E.A.'s style." Lee shrugged. "Look, I'd like to help you. I just came here to find my friend."

"You're not making any sense, kid," the man said.

The door to the hall opened and another man in a dull green uniform and cap entered. He was carrying a rifle. "Barry, you'd better come back here." He disappeared down the hall again.

Barry, the mustachioed man, motioned to Lee. "Go on, Kid. You first."

Sam Begay sat on the floor of his sparsely furnished bedroom. His face and naked torso were pained in brightly colored stripes. In front of him, laid out neatly, were a teapot, a spoon, a bowl of sugar, and a coffee mug emblazoned with a sunny face and the words "Have a Nice Day". Piles of weeds bearing white, funnel shaped flowers were strewn everywhere.

Big Sam stared straight ahead. There was a peculiar expression on his face and a waxy pallor to his skin. As they walked in, his expression didn't change.

"What the... ?" Barry breathed.

"Looks like Jimson weed," the other man said, pointing with the rifle. "And the sugar's really sugar. Looks like the damn fool's been brewing tea. There's a pretty good stash of hash and various pills in the closet, too. We'll need to bag them for evidence."

Lee wasn't listening any more. He walked over to where Sam was sitting and knelt down. "Sam?" he said. "Sam, are you all right?"

No answer.

Lee felt his pulse. Sam's skin was cold and clammy. His pulse was almost non-existent. His breathing was shallow.

"Oh, Sam, is this what you stole my truck for?" he whispered. When there was no response, he looked up at the officers. "Uh, is it okay with you if I call an ambulance for my friend? I think he's been poisoned."

"All this shit is poison, son," the man with the rifle drawled.

Lee stood slowly. "Yes, sir. But I think Jimson's a member of the nightshade family. He's in real trouble, sir, barely breathing."

Barry's expression changed. He picked up the phone and tossed it to Lee. "You call the ambulance. I'll go see if I can find who was shooting at you."

"Thanks," Lee said.

"Tell me you didn't know they had an L.S.D. lab set up in the bathroom," Barry's partner announced.

Lee's jaw dropped. "They did?" Up until now he had thought of himself as unflappable. It was strange to know there were things that could still shock him.

"Okay, you didn't know... Here's the emergency number. By the way, don't leave. We've got some questions for you." With that, the officer followed Barry out the door.

Lee dialed the emergency number hurriedly. At least they'd accepted his story. Now, if only they were in time to save Sam's life.

The minutes ticked by, but the grin on Sam's face didn't change. An officer Lee hadn't seen before entered and began collecting items from Sam's "tea party" as evidence. He carefully put everything into plastic bags and labeled them.

Lee began pacing. He was on edge by the time the ambulance drivers wheeled their gurney into the room.

The officer named Barry accompanied them in the ambulance. As they drove away, Lee could see the other Drug Enforcement Agency officers rounding up suspects. Among them were Sam's two roommates. He looked over at the officer in the grey suit and wondered why the man hadn't arrested him first thing. As they moved quickly through the streets, siren blaring, Lee stopped worrying about whether or not he was going to be arrested and wondered instead if his friend Sam was going to make it. The man hadn't so much as blinked since the ambulance arrived.

In answer to Lee's questions, the ambulance attendant told him everything was going to be fine. Despite this reassurance, Sam experienced respiratory failure as the ambulance rolled into the hospital emergency receiving area.

* * *
Special Agent Barry McIntyre brought an extra cup of coffee with him as he entered the small hospital waiting room where Lee Stetson sat miserably alone. Lee accepted the coffee gratefully. He took a sip, then noted the officer's serious expression.

"He's dead, isn't he? Sam's dead."

Barry didn't flinch. "'Fraid so."

"This started out as a good day," Lee muttered into his coffee cup. He felt terrible... and he felt responsible somehow. Why couldn't he have found Sam sooner?

"Look, I'm sorry about your friend. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions."

"I could try asking some questions too," Lee thought angrily, "Like, why is it that my friend is dead? It just isn't fair." He fought to control his emotions, finally turning to the man, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

McIntyre fished a small object out of his pocket. "Oh, we believe you just fine."

"What's that?"

"It's one of the slugs we pried out of the wall behind your truck."

Lee breathed a sigh of relief. "Somebody was shooting at me."

"Yup, it wasn't your imagination. You're lucky to be alive." The man's craggy face broke into a grin. "So, you weren't sure?"

Lee decided to tell the truth. "I thought I was, but when I didn't see anyone..."

McIntyre interrupted. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? You're probably wondering why we didn't arrest you along with the others. Trouble is, I served under your uncle, old Colonel Stetson, in Guam. Now, imagine me arresting you. How would it look?" McIntyre sat back in his chair, and Lee could tell the man was enjoying his reaction to the news.

"Now, son, don't look at me like that. And don't think for one minute if I thought you were a drug peddler, or mixed up with them, I wouldn't crucify you. Dealers are the lowest form of life on this planet."

"Yessir."

"Let's just say, we've checked you out and you have a clean bill of health, all right? Actually, we were hoping you could help us put a couple of the puzzle pieces into place."

"I don't know what I can tell you that you don't already know, Sir."

"You'd be surprised, Stetson. Do you have any idea who was shooting at you this afternoon?"

"I'm not sure." Maybe that was it, Special Agent Barry McIntyre reminded him of Colonel Stetson, but Lee had felt comfortable talking to this man from the first. Even with a gun shoved up his nose. The memory was still quite vivid. He rubbed his nose absently. "You see, I guess I'm naive, but I just caught on to all this drug stuff this afternoon. I never thought Sam would've... I mean I've got some ideas, but right now they're not very..." His voice drifted off in despair. He had been that close to saving Sam. That close.

"Lee, someone has been going to a lot of trouble to bring drugs up from Mexico. They're doing big business. Not just here, but on the Reservation. Ruining lives, creating havoc."

"We've had no luck catching them at the border, they're too sophisticated. So we started concentrating on this end. We've been watching your friend's apartment for a long time. We believe it to be a distribution center for this county and the state, maybe even the whole the Southwest." McIntyre took a moment to drain his coffee cup.

"But we know there's someone else, a kingpin of the organization, still at large and, probably still in the area. It would help if you told us all you know. Looks like you got in their way today. You could still be in trouble."

Lee nodded soberly. It was time to bring in the big guns. Especially if a man like Chavez was involved. He and Andy couldn't fight alone. And there were a few things about Sam's death that still didn't quite make sense.

"I think you're right, Sir," Lee agreed. He cleared his throat and launched into a story about history classes, a huge, kind-hearted Indian who loved football and a missing truck.

* * *
Andy stood on the curb, nervously rocking back and forth on the heels of his tooled leather boots. He glanced at his watch again. It still said six-fifteen. Six-fifteen. Six-fifteen.

"Stop worrying, he's all right."

Andy swatted absentmindedly at the hair in his face and glared at his companion. Why did people always tell you to stop worrying? As if it could go away just like that. Heidi looked bored, but she had clung to his side determinedly for the last forty-five minutes and showed no sign of leaving. Yet.

"I could meet up with you later," Andy volunteered. He tried to force a smile to his lips. "Morton and his girlfriend are probably already at the Steak House."

"I can wait," she said goodnaturedly. "You know, I don't know what's worrying you the most: the fact that your cousin is late or that he's got your Camaro." Heidi's face crinkled into an attractive grin. "Admit it."

"There's nothing to admit," he said out loud, at the same time admitting to himself that he was starting to sound grumpy. Dammit, he was grumpy. Tired, grumpy and worried about Lee... Okay, and his car. That was enough, wasn't it? It was allowed. Trapped somewhere between Heidi's cheerfulness and his growing self-pity, he finally put his arm around Heidi's shoulders and squeezed. "I'm sorry. You're right on the money as usual."

"I've got my car. Shall we start looking for him?"

Andy whistled low. "You don't know what we may be in for. I think I know where he's gone. You'd be better off to go on to the party without me."

"And what are you going to do without a car? C'mon, face it, Mr. Travis, you'll have to swallow that manly pride of yours and come with me."

They walked over to her sky blue Mustang ragtop. "Heidi, I should go alone. It could get dangerous."

"Get serious." She said it lightly, but he couldn't help but notice that her eyes glistened with excitement. She tossed him the keys. "Let's get going. The sooner we find him, the sooner we eat. I'm starving."

As he slid behind the wheel, Andy couldn't help smiling. He was glad for the company. It helped reduce the anxiety he felt about Lee and his friend, Sam.

He repeated Lee's original surveillance route, checking out first the college library, then the Frosty Freeze, then tracing the way back to the apartment complex where Sam lived. There, they pulled into a parking place in front of the grassy commons and watched the police pull down their yellow banners. He could see the officers coming from Sam's apartment. Something had gone down this afternoon. It looked like the clean-up crew was now at work.

"Oh, my goodness."

Andy looked over at Heidi. Her face was pale, her mouth forming a perfect "O". "What's wrong?"

"Do you think they arrested your cousin?"

"What would they arrest Lee for, Heidi?" Andy asked, heart thumping.

"How about for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? That's Sam Begay's place, isn't it?"

Andy thought about it before he shook his head vehemently. "Naw. They didn't because... Oh HELL."

There was the red Camaro. Neatly parked practically next to them.

Andy was out of the car in a single, fluid motion. He ran over to the Camaro. A quick visual survey told him she bore no dents, nicks or scrapes. That was a good sign. No bullet holes, either, he noted happily. The doors were all locked. That was a good sign too.

Heidi had followed him out of the car. "Is it your car?"

"Yup."

"So, where's your cousin?"

"Good question." Andy scanned the parking lot. "What do you think the officers here will tell us?"

"Probably nothing. We'll have to go down to the station," Heidi said pointedly. "What do you want to do?"

Andy ran a hand through his hair while he considered the options. "I still have to drop the car off at Del's before he closes. He was going to take a look at the super charger tomorrow."

"Okay. Take your car to Del's and I'll follow you. Then we'll check out the police station."

"Does that sound cold-blooded?"

"What? Leaving your cousin to rot in some lousy New Mexico jail cell while you take your car in for an inspection?" She shook her head. "Not at all."

"You're right, let's go to the station first."

"What if he's not arrested and he comes back and the car is gone?" she said, thinking aloud.

"Okay. We'll leave the car. C'mon."

He made a point of driving around the lot and behind the apartments first. There was no sign of Lee, or of Jake's yellow truck. Satisfied they were doing the right thing, Andy headed towards City Hall.

The officer on duty at the front desk listened impassively to Andy's fits and starts of explanation and then informed them that their records showed no Lee Stetson had been booked for anything that afternoon.

Outside, in the deepening twilight, Andy turned to the girl. "I can't believe it. I'm feeling disappointment because Lee wasn't arrested!"

Heidi laughed. "It's just because you didn't find him, silly. Where else could he have gone?"

Andy's eyes turned involuntarily to the mountain. "Just one other place that I can think of."

"Yes?"

He took in her orange paisley mini and her stack heels. She was dressed for a party, not for wilderness hiking. "How adventurous do you feel?" he asked hesitantly.

* * *
The yellow pickup truck sat alone in the police yard, far away from the impounds. It had been washed and waxed and buffed until it shone. Someone had also taken the trouble to fill the gas tank as well. The sight made Lee feel comforted. He couldn't believe it, it looked better than it had before it was stolen.

McIntyre handed him the keys. "Here you go. And thanks for your cooperation, Lee. Your testimony is the first to link the goings on in Sam's apartment to Chavez. Maybe it will bear fruit, who knows? We had no idea about the old Morrow place either. Just shows you."

Lee nodded. "Happy to help."

The agent smiled. "Yes, well, you must be lucky. When Officer Percy heard your friend was dead, he got all emotional and washed the truck. Go figure."

"Thanks. I'm just glad you didn't confiscate it. My Uncle Jake would never understand."

"Well, the boys stripped it and put it back together again, but there wasn't anything in it but school books."

School books. Now why was that ringing a faint bell? Lee impulsively opened the door to the cab. There on the seat lay the history texts Sam had checked out of the library for his research paper and his notebook.

McIntyre watched him with interest. "What do you think you're going to find, son?"

"There's something that's been tugging at my mind all afternoon. Something that didn't seem quite right." Lee turned slowly with the notebook in his hands. "Sam didn't do drugs. I'm convinced of that. I don't think he made the tea that killed him, either. I think he was murdered."

The agent smiled. "Now, I know you feel loyal to your friend, but you said yourself he'd passed out on the floor at a party last night. You found him that way this morning, if I recall."

Lee's brain was racing. Those puzzle pieces McIntyre had spoken of earlier were staring to fit. "You don't understand. That's what I was led to believe. But the bruise on Sam's face was on his cheek bone. It was faint, more like the bruise you get when someone hits you. When you hit the coffee table going down... well, a sharp edge like that would have broken the skin, wouldn't it? It leaves a scrape or cut in the center with bruising around it."

"Go on." Lee could tell he had the man's attention.

Lee thought back. "And the first thing he said when I woke him was, 'you hit me?'"

"You're just guessing."

"Well, I'm not guessing about this." Lee started flipping pages. He finally found what he was looking for. "Sam was doing some research for our history class term paper. His was on Thomas Jefferson. He just happened to come across this book about Jefferson, the amateur botanist. It talks about Jimson Weed. He shared some of it with me. That's the only reason I knew what Jimson was when we found him. It was named after the Jamestown settlers who discovered its hallucinogenic properties by accident. The name 'Jamestown' got shortened to 'Jimson' over the years."

He handed the notebook to McIntyre. "There." He pointed to a note scribbled in the margin next to endless comments on Jefferson's political theories. It was in Sam's precise handwriting.

McIntyre whistled low as he read: "R.I.P. Rose. Make note Jeffersonians: Anyone who does drugs is not only stupid but suicidal. Death to the dealers." Beneath was a doodle of a girl's face and the notation, "Rainbow's End?" "Wonder what that means?" McIntyre murmured.

"Nothing, I'm sure," Lee said hurriedly. "But do you begin to see what I mean? He wasn't doing drugs."

"Okay. If I buy that, what was he doing in that apartment house?" McIntyre leaned up against the pickup.

Lee shrugged. "I think he was doing some undercover work of his own and they got wise to him."

"You mean he was on to them, but they got to him before he could expose them?"

"Yes. They hit him first on the playing field. He kept complaining that Peterson had gotten by him on Friday night... I think it may have been Chavez' goons that really made him lose the game."

"You still think Chavez is in on this?" McIntyre said, amused.

"What if they nabbed him in the library and overdosed him, making it look like suicide?"

"I still have to say, why? We need some hard evidence here, not great theories."

"But the keys were still rocking in the ignition of the truck when I got to the apartment a little after four-thirty. If Sam had been the one driving it, he wouldn't have had time to paint himself and brew tea in the time it took me to help the ladies with their groceries." It was something he just thought of, but it fit. "Why else would I get shot at in the parking lot? They were buying time. They'd already doped Sam and I showed up too soon."

McIntyre nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe they were hoping to dismantle their lab and get a few other things taken care of before you found him. But we surprised them around back."

Lee had one more thought on the situation. "Someone told me Sam was 'getting back to his roots' lately. What if he discovered something incriminating? Maybe something to do with the Chavez' drug dealing on the Reservation?"

"You're stretching things, but I'm not inclined to disagree at the moment. From what we can gather from his teachers, Sam was an exemplary student. Yet, he had a terrible reputation as a druggie."

"Exactly. I've been hearing about it too. But Sam never so much as touched an aspirin around me. And I was with him a lot these past few weeks."

McIntyre scratched his head. "Have we been bamboozled from the beginning?"

"Maybe, Sir," Lee said diplomatically.

"We're going up to check out the Morrow place, although I doubt Chavez and his men are there anymore. They've had plenty of time to clear out by now." The agent studied Lee intently for a moment. "You know the mountain well. Do you think you could find that dirt track in the dark?"

Lee felt a shiver of excitement. "You bet."

* * *
"Ow!" Heidi stopped for a moment to get her dress untangled from an uncooperative bush.

It was a lot harder to navigate the rim of the dirt road up to the Morrow place in the dark, Andy decided nervously, as he helped her twist free. He wondered who might be watching them.

"Look, do you want to go back?"

"What, and miss all this fun?" Heidi answered bravely, marching through another bush. "I know my feet are killing me, and I've torn my best mini-skirt and I'm dirty and you haven't said two words to me since we left the school parking lot, but I'm having a good time being with you. Really I am."

"Keep your voice down."

"Okay, and I'll keep my voice down," she repeated loudly.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Andy whispered hotly. "But I'm just a little concerned for Lee right now."

"How about a little concern for me right now?" Heidi whimpered. "Lee is probably just fine. And where's this yellow truck we were supposed to find?"

"If they've got Lee, it'll be parked by the house," Andy explained.

"And where's the house? I haven't seen any house. We've been walking for hours."

Andy paused and tried to get his bearings. It was so hard to distinguish landmarks in the dark. They may have taken a wrong turn at the fork in the road and not realized it. He turned to Heidi. She actually looked kinda cute with that smudge of dirt on her nose. However, the expression on her face was anything but cute. He put his hands on his hips.

"We have not been walking for hours. If you'd stayed in the car like you were supposed to, I could have been there and back by now. We may have missed the turnoff when you got tangled in that first bush."

"Fine. Yell at me. It's all my fault. Everything is my fault." Heidi began sniffing.

"Heidi... "

"Well, I'm tired and I haven't had any dinner. I was just trying to be supportive." Her eyes were filling with tears.

"Oh, swell." Andy was pacing in front of her. He now threw up his hands in disgust. "This was your idea. Wasn't this your idea? It was your idea."

Heidi sat down on a nearby rock and began to cry.

"Heidi, are you crying? Don't start crying on me."

"I'm not (sniff) crying."

"Yes, you are. Oh, heck, you're crying." Andy felt like joining her on the rock. Instead he kept pacing, hands thrust as best he could into the pocket of his skin-tight jeans.

"Could you just stay right here for a minute while I try to figure out where we are?" Andy finally asked in desperation. So much for the solid maturity of older women, he thought darkly.

"I (sniff) guess."

"You'll be all right?"

"I'll be (sniff) fine."

"Okay, then. I'll be right back."

Andy began jogging back along the road. Sure enough, they had missed the turn. He stood for a moment, wondering what to do. He decided it was better to leave Heidi where she was at the moment. He continued on down the edge of the road, moving quickly, skirting the trees old man Morrow had planted forty years before as a windbreak.

As he rounded the bend in the road, he could see the helicopter poised on the grassy lawn in front of the house. There was a bright light shining on it and a man busily at work on the motor, obviously trying to fix it. Andy stood quietly and waited for a while, catching his breath. If Lee was a prisoner here, where would he be kept? The room off the kitchen? Andy wondered what it would take to get across the lawn to the kitchen entrance without the man by the helicopter seeing him. It was risky at best. While he was lost in thought, a voice shattered the stillness.

"How's it coming, Bob?"

A man was walking from the house towards the chopper. Andy recognized him at once. Chavez!

The man tinkering with the helicopter pulled his head out of the engine. "I've almost got it, Boss. We should be airborne in about twenty minutes."

"You said that an hour ago." Chavez sounded angry. Andy could just bet the man was livid. If the police were closing in, he should have been long gone.

Chavez said something else Andy couldn't quite hear. He walked a little closer to the lawn, using the trees to shield him.

"I thought the boss told you to beat it." Andy whirled to find a man holding a gun pointed straight at him. "He ain't gonna like this."

Andy swallowed hard. "Hi, Franklin," he managed brightly. "Long time, no see."

Franklin was holding someone behind him with his free hand. Now he pulled her roughly forward into the light.

"Hi, Andy," Heidi said sheepishly. She looked a little bedraggled with the tears in her dress and the smudges on her face. She shrugged her shoulders apologetically. "I got tired of waiting."

* * *
It felt strange driving up the mountain in a van filled with armed D.E.A. men. It made the scrub pine that flashed by in the headlights look different somehow. Almost foreign. Lee relaxed back into the upholstery as McIntyre navigated the switchbacks sedately. He felt at ease with these men. It was almost as if he was one of them.

As they rounded the next curve, Lee suddenly sat up. He could see the gate leading to the field near the "Lazy O" ranch. They were getting close.

"The road should be coming up on the left, on the other side of those trees. From what we saw of it this afternoon, it isn't too bad. You might still get the van in there."

McIntyre grunted and slowed the vehicle to a crawl. Once around the bend, they could just make out the turnoff. The van swung heavily around. McIntyre killed the engine. "I vote we go in on foot. "We're not sure just how far the house is from here and the state of the road, so why chance it?"

It didn't take long for the four agents to mobilize. McIntyre turned to Lee, as his men began their silent jog down the lane.

"I know," Lee said, crestfallen. He knew what was coming. "I get to stay here."

"Right. Stay with the van. You're a civilian, after all." Seeing the look on Lee's face, he added. "There's probably nobody there. You won't be missing anything." With that, he disappeared into the darkness after his three men.

Lee kicked at the gravel in the drive and hugged his navy blue windbreaker tighter against the chill in the air. He felt so useless. His hands clenched on their own accord into tight fists. He would love to get his hands on the man who murdered Sam. Then he'd show them what kind of a civilian he was.

He stood patiently for nearly a minute after McIntyre left. Then, curiosity got the better of him, and he, too, began a silent jog into the night. He hadn't gone very far when something caught his eye off to the side of the road. He went to investigate. As he got closer, he could tell it was a car. He stopped to remove some of the brush, half expecting to find Andy's red Camaro. To his surprise, he uncovered a mustang. The color looked grey in the darkness. Then he reminded himself that he had left Andy's Camaro in the parking lot at Sam's.

Was someone up at the house doing business with Chavez, or had Andy borrowed a car and come looking for him? In all the excitement, Lee had forgotten his cousin completely. He now checked his watch guiltily. It was just a little past seven-thirty. Damn. Andy didn't know how messy this had all become, had no idea Sam was dead. If Andy had come looking for him what had he found? These people had committed murder. What was to keep them from shooting Andy if he interfered with their getaway?

Lee had a reason not to stay put now. He took a deep breath to calm himself and began sprinting down the lane. He had to warn McIntyre that Chavez might have company.

Lee could hear the sound of gunfire as he approached the last bend in the road. He slowed his pace, keeping well into the treeline to avoid detection.

There was a helicopter sitting amidst the weeds in front of the house. A man was pinned down behind it, firing at the D.E.A. men in the trees. The bright work light hanging over the chopper silhouetted the man clearly. He was alone. Lee hugged a tree for protection. It looked like Chavez' man, Bob. He wondered who else was there in the house. He was betting on at least Chavez and Franklin.

He could see McIntyre and one of his men skirting the far side of the house. It looked like they were going to try to get behind the man pinned on the lawn. Lee was glad the D.E.A. guys were busy. It made it easier for him to sneak around them toward the side of the house.

The kitchen door stood ajar, only a few feet from where Lee was hidden. The hall beyond looked empty. He considered his options. No matter what he did, he risked the wrath of McIntyre. All he could think of, though, was that it could already be too late for Andy. It helped him make up his mind. The adrenalin was pumping. He geared up for the jog to the door, aware that his actions might draw D.E.A. fire, as well as reprisals from unknown persons within.

He started forward, only to feel metal jabbed into his back. "Well, looky here. I think I've found another bargaining chip." Lee recognized the voice. It was Franklin.

Something snapped inside of him and he whirled, throwing the man behind him off-balance. The gun went flying, discharging as it flew. The bullet came dangerously close to Lee's head. The report just added a tiny bit more cacophony to the melee.

His mind had ceased to think. Finely honed reflexes took over. His arm tightened, jabbed, made contact with flesh, twisted off. One fluid motion. Franklin groaned and doubled over, clutching his abdomen. A quick, but fierce chop to the back of the neck followed. The man crumpled to the ground. Lee left the cover of the trees and dashed into the house. He heard the man behind the helicopter cry out in pain. McIntyre's men started moving across the lawn. It would be over soon, his brain registered dully.

The little room off the side of the kitchen where he had been kept prisoner earlier in the day was empty. Lee leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. He had been so sure he would find Andy in here. Now he was unarmed and vulnerable.

From somewhere farther inside the house, he thought he heard a woman scream. He was drawn towards the sound, aware that any moment he might be on the wrong side of a bullet.

They were in Chavez' study. Andy and Heidi were being held by Chavez in the sights of his automatic weapon. He couldn't see Andy's face, but Heidi looked frightened. She was barefoot and the pretty dress she had been wearing at the dance was in tatters.

From where he stood, half hidden behind the open door to the room, Lee could see someone entering from a door opposite. It was McIntyre. His arms were on top of his head. He was bleeding from one of them. His face was pale and pinched with pain, but his eyes went wide with surprise when he saw Andy and the girl. Behind him was a scrawny fellow in a flight suit, who could only be the helicopter pilot. The pilot was holding a handgun on McIntyre.

"Barry?" Heidi squealed when she saw them.

"Heidi? Honey, what are you doing here?" McIntyre answered.

Lee noted how Andy looked questioningly from Heidi to the man and back again. He hoped Andy was wondering how Heidi knew the man in the D.E.A. cap, because that was what he was wondering right now. Lee groaned inwardly. This was getting too complicated.

"Oh, Barry!" Heidi sputtered. "We're..."

"Shut up!" the pilot barked, cutting her off in mid-sentence. Heidi clamped her teeth together and was silent.

Chavez still looked elegant, unruffled. Lee felt an intense loathing for the man. "How many more of them, Chris?" Chavez asked.

"At least two," the man answered. "Jones and Friess are keeping them pinned down with gun-fire. Bob got the chopper fixed just before he bought it. If we can get clear, we can get out of here."

"Well, that's what we have insurance for." Chavez smiled, indicating his prisoners with a wave of his hand. "So nice I could arrange this little reunion for all of you. I think we should sit down on the couch. Gentlemen. Miss. We're going to have a party."

McIntyre sat down with a wince of pain as he lowered his arms slowly. Andy and Heidi obediently followed suit, sliding next to him on the rose-colored damask settee. Satisfied, Chavez put his gun down. He leaned over the cherrywood cabinet to his left. When he turned around again, there was a syringe in his hands.

"This won't hurt a bit," he said ominously.

Lee began to sweat. He could still hear gunfire outside. Chris was watchful, but Chavez' weapon now lay unattended a few feet away from where Lee stood hidden in the doorway. If only someone could create a diversion, he thought helplessly.

In that moment, Heidi jumped up off the couch. "I will not sit here and watch Barry bleed to death," she whined. "I've had enough. Go ahead and shoot me." She crossed her arms defiantly in front of her chest.

Andy pulled her back down on the couch immediately, before the pilot got trigger happy. "Shut up and sit down," he said brusquely.

"Heidi, you're going to get shot," McIntyre said calmly. "Just do what the man says."

It happened quickly, but was just the break Lee needed. He dove into the room grabbed the automatic weapon off the cabinet as he went down. Andy saw what Lee was doing and was quick-witted enough to tackle Chris while the man was still surprised. In the confusion, Heidi managed to pick up the fallen weapon.

Seconds later, a stunned Chavez lunged with the syringe in his hand. The fine needle grazed Lee's arm, as he warded off the blow with a quick movement of his gun hand. Lee twisted and aimed a powerful left to the man's jaw. Chavez dropped limply to the floor, the syringe falling from his hand.

While Andy and Heidi cheerfully tied up the pilot and Chavez for McIntyre, the D.E.A. man, managed to find the strength to get his cuffs out of his back pocket. He had just started reading the unwilling candidates their rights when the rest of the D.E.A. men joined them.

* * *
Rainbow was waiting outside the student union cafeteria as Lee pulled up in the red Camaro at precisely nine o'clock. She had combed her hair out and put on some mascara, Lee noticed. The apron was gone. In it's place were purple tie-dyed jeans and a tee-shirt.

As she slid into the passenger seat she flashed him a smile. "Tough day. I'm bushed. Didn't really think you'd come."

"It's been an interesting day," Lee said rubbing his arm where Chavez' syringe had left an angry welt. Heidi had helped to bandage him up and he'd borrowed a clean shirt from Andy's suitcase. The painful scratch was the only physical reminder he had of the events of the day.

He wondered how he was going to break the news to her. She certainly couldn't go home. There were still police stationed at the apartment. She'd be arrested for sure.

"Let's party, okay?" she said. She reached into her purse. "A little nose candy? The night is young." She giggled. Lee turned in his seat and grabbed her hand.

"Let's not." His eyes searched her face. "I need to talk to Vonda Clark tonight. That nice little girl who lived on the mountain and played with Murphy when he was a kid. I'm not sure if I like some of the things I think Rainbow has been doing. I know Murphy wouldn't like 'em".

Her bright face clouded. "You're so straight, man. Such a drag. Rainbow is a lot more fun to be with than Vonda ever was."

"Yeah, well... fun... maybe." He searched for the right words, then decided to just say it. "Sam Begay is dead."

"What?" Incredulity registered on her face.

"Sam is dead. This afternoon. They killed him. Chavez and his goons."

"Not Big Sam."

"The police hit the apartment. They arrested everybody who lives there or hangs out there."

"Not Big Sam," she repeated. She began crying, and he pulled her close, awkwardly, over the gear box.

"Come on, I'm taking you home to the mountain."

She held on to him, her voice muffled through the rough fabric of Andy's shirt. "I can't," she sobbed. "I haven't even seen them in over a year. They hate me."

"They don't hate you, I promise." He stroked her long, silky hair. "I just talked to your Mom on the phone. Your room is all ready and everything."

She pulled away and looked in the eyes. Her mascara had left raccoon smudges around her eyes. "Honest?"

"Honest," he said. "They know about Sam. They want you to come home."

She took a breath. "How can I go back? I'm so different now."

"You'll be fine. You just need a new start."

"New start..." She sat thinking for a while, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"What do you say?" he asked. "For Sam?"

In response she took a small vial out of her purse and shook the fine, white powder out of the window. "For Sam," she said softly. "And for me."

He kissed her then, impulsively, his fingers getting tangled in her hair. She kissed him back, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck. He liked the feel of her in his arms. No pretense, no artifice. She sighed contentedly as he pressed her closer. He sensed there was just the two of them now. Just Lee Stetson, city boy, and Vonda Clark, the girl from the mountain.

Rainbow had flown out the window with the cocaine.

* * *
Andy, Lee and Vonda tiptoed into the ranch kitchen. It was well after midnight. Grandma Michaels and Uncle Jake were early risers. Both were sound asleep. The entire ranch seemed asleep. Lee made a beeline for the pantry. There, hidden in the secret drawer as promised, was the pie.

Andy smiled. "It seems almost anti-climatic to eat it now."

Lee nodded. He stared at it for a full minute, then put it back in the drawer. "Tomorrow." He smiled broadly at the girl. "We'll have a get-together after church."

"Yeah, tomorrow sounds good," Andy said.

Vonda made a face. "After CHURCH? That's blackmail!"

Lee chuckled. "You made a promise to your mother on the phone, remember?"

"Okay, if it's part of my 'rehab' program, I guess I can go. But you have to come too!"

Before Lee could answer, there came a noise from far above that startled them. Worn floorboards creaked and groaned somewhere on the second floor. Ancient pipes bellowed as a toilet flushed. The three grew guiltily quiet.

"Hope we didn't wake up Jake," was all Lee could think to say.

"We'd better be quiet," Andy cautioned, holding a finger to his lips.

The three left the kitchen by unspoken agreement. Outside, the night was chill and the New Mexico sky emblazoned with stars. Andy said a quick "Goodnight" and turned toward the bunkhouse. He suddenly seemed to change his mind and stopped in the middle of the yard. "Hey, Lee, ever thought of becoming a G-Man?" he asked. "You sure have a talent for it."

"Right. I'm surprised McIntyre didn't roast me for interfering."

"You saved his skin, Cuz," Andy reminded him. "He couldn't very well roast you for that. 'Sides, he was too busy with his lady-friend." He paused and Lee could tell he was reflecting on all the attention Heidi had lavished on the wounded McIntyre until help arrived. She'd forgotten Andy entirely in the process, calling McIntyre "Honey" and "Sweetheart" until Lee thought he was going to be sick and Andy's face had frozen into stone. "It's been... quite a day," he finished lamely.

"Yes it has." Lee grinned. "Speaking of which, do you think Heidi will ever go out with you again?"

"Good question," Andy laughed. "So much for older women! Well, goodnight you two."

"Goodnight." Lee watched until his cousin reached the bunkhouse, then he turned to Vonda who was waiting silently beside him. "Walk you home?"

"A walk sounds good."

"Yeah, I need to clear my head. Too wound up to sleep right now." He put an arm around her shoulders. "You cold?"

"No, not when you hold me like that."

She snuggled up against him and he resisted the urge to kiss her again. Instead, he drew the other arm around and held her tightly against him for a moment. She pulled away first with a frown. "Doesn't your arm hurt when you do that?"

"I'm okay."

"I still think you should have let the doctor look at it again."

"I'm okay. It was just a scratch."

"Um-m. Tough guy, huh?"

"Yes." He grinned. "And stop mothering me."

"Somebody's got to do it."

The comical look on her face broke his resolve. He bent down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. When she didn't respond, he jokingly said, "Hey, you're not gay or anything?"

She didn't' rise to the bait. Instead, she grew serious. "Lee, Sam's really dead. I just can't get over it... and... and I somehow feel like Rainbow's dead too, and all that's left is squirrely little Vonda. I hate ol' V-V-Vonda."

"Don't... " he said as her voice broke.

She stared up at him, her pixie face full of anguish in the brilliant starlight. "Lee, a great guy like you couldn't possibly like boring Vonda Clark."

"I like her very much," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. He bent over her once more, but this time she rose on her tip-toes to meet him. What began as a light kiss deepened quickly into something more passionate as her arms slipped about his neck and he pressed her close.

Lee broke away when he felt himself losing control. It would be so easy to forget everything and give in to that primal urge she had awakened within him, but he knew he couldn't take advantage of her vulnerability tonight. There were rules about that sort of thing.

"There now, I'd better take you home while I can still walk."

She giggled softly into his shirt. "I like you, Lee Stetson. I think you're the first real friend I've ever had except for Sam and his sister, Rosemary."

"Don't forget my cousin, Murphy."

"Yeah," she amended shyly. "And Murphy."

"Ready to start home?"

She sighed deeply and nodded. They walked down the lane in a comfortable silence, hands clasped tightly, each wrapped up in private thoughts. Before they turned down the drive that led to the Clark's ranch house, Lee stopped, pulling her close once more. Through the trees, at the end, stood the house with lights ablaze. He knew the Clarks were waiting for their daughter. The ice had been broken by Vonda's phone call from town, but the actual meeting was going to be difficult. He could feel her shivering beside him, and knew instinctively it wasn't from the cool night air.

"Want me to come with you?" he said brightly, trying to forget how wonderful her plump breasts felt pressed against his chest like this. He had an overwhelming desire to kiss her again. He wanted to kiss away the problems and hurt - both hers and his - and let his fingers explore her lithe, young frame. He fought the desire, even though his body ached with her so near. But he knew, once they rounded the last bend, her thoughts were now far away from him.

As if in answer, she broke free from his grasp. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She took a deep breath. "Here goes nothin'." She threw herself at him, on tip-toe. Her lips brushed his briefly. "See ya tomorrow, tough guy."

"Goodnight... Good luck." He watched her walk until she was lost in the shadows. Then he began a slow jog back to the bunkhouse.

* * *
The grassy knoll was deserted. Lee walked among the white, wooden crosses until he found the new grave. It was the one he was looking for. A few wilted flowers graced the top of the dirt mound. The hastily erected wooden cross bore the name "Sam Begay" and nothing more.

Lee removed his cowboy hat and stood staring at the mound for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. "Sam," he began. "I'm not good at this, but I've been thinking about you a lot. I just wanted you to know that I miss you."

He fought a moment for control of his voice, looking up into the cloudy blue sky and not really seeing it, then continued. "McIntyre did some checking on the Reservation and learned about your sister's overdose. Poor kid. I'm sorry about what happened to her... and I think I understand you just a little better now. You tried to be there for her, like you were for me."

"I though you should know they've arrested Chavez and his men. He's been indicted by a Federal Grand Jury. Your sister's friend, Penny, is testifying against them, and so are a lot of others. They'll get what's coming to them."

There was a long silence while Lee collected his thoughts. It was so peaceful here in the shadow of the trees near the old white washed clapboard church. He stood still, letting the fresh breeze pass over him. He was glad he'd worn his denim jacket. Now that November had arrived the weather was turning.

"I just wanted you to know that I actually passed History. I also passed that exemption exam you said I should take. You know, I would never have dared try it without your encouragement. Sixteen hours of history credit. Okay, it was only a "B-minus" credit, but it's a darn sight better'n all those D's and F's I used to get in history."

"Now I've somehow caught up on a whole semesters' worth of work, and then I got this in the mail." He drew out a slip of paper from his pocket. It had the seal of the University of California at Berkeley on it. "I got accepted at Berkeley, Sam, and they're giving me a football scholarship."

He started pacing in front of the grave, then stopped. "Things have worked out for me here, Sam. Thanks." He rubbed thoughtfully at his forehead, then pocketed the slip of paper. "I just wanted you to know, my friend."

He stood for a moment longer in silence, then began a slow walk back to the highway where Vonda Clark was waiting for him in the old yellow pickup.