Chapter 8

In about two hours, Desert Flower reached over and turned the frequency I’d be listening to, to a new channel. She put her finger to her lips, in the universal ‘shhh’ sign. Then she adjusted her frequency.

“Navajo Air, come in please. Navajo Air. This is King Air 8391, coming in to you from the southeast.”

“This is Navajo Air, King Air. What can we do for ya, this fine mornin’?” It was a young boy’s voice.

“It’s a nice day for flying, Navajo, but we can’t fly forever. We’d like to land at your lovely facility. We have a guest who’ll want to speak to the President. King Air, over.”

“It surely is a nice day, King Air. But we don’t have no President. We have a Chairman of the Tribal Council, though. Feel free to land at your convenience. We have no tower, so keep an eagle eye out for traffic. Elevation at the runway is 5,370 feet. Navajo Air, over.”

“Roger, Navajo Air. Will we see you on the ground? King Air, over.”

“That’s a big negatory, King Air. I’m running the (sounded like ‘Bashas’ Diné’) supermarket near the north end of the runway. Ask for Johnny. I’ll get somebody to meet you at Window Rock Airport Terminal, also at the north end. Wind irregular at 5 to 15 knots from the north. Have a nice landing. Navajo Air, out.”

I looked at Desert Flower and said, “Johnny? That’s a bit unusual, isn’t it?”

“It’s a bit of a different standard than Phoenix International,” she laughed. “But it seems to work for the Nation.” She flipped some pages in the notebook she’d been referring to as we flew cross-country. “Here it is. The Navajo Air Station. Close to the Navajo Nation Administration Center. I’m hoping that Paul Bunyon managed to call ahead and get us an appointment with somebody.”

“Oh, he can call from the plane?” I knew nobody had cell phones at this point in life #2.

“Sure, it’s hooked in to the plane’s radio. Different channel ... There it is.” She pointed out the right front window. ‘It’ was a long stretch of black asphalt that seemed to run southwest to northeast. “Look around and see if there’s anybody else coming in to land here. We’re pretty much on our own and I have only one eye.”

Eeek! I was part of the early warning system to keep us from colliding with another plane! When we passed Albuquerque, I’d seen several planes in the air. Big commercial ones, from what Flower said. They were teeny-tiny specs against a big blue sky. My head was now on a swivel, checking the sky around us in northeast Arizona. I didn’t see anything, but I was frantically looking. I mean, if there were another plane and it crashed into us...

Meantime, we touched down. The wheels hit mother earth with a jounce and we slowed down as we went to the northern end of the runway. The plane taxied to a parking place near the fueling station, and we got out of the plane – officially, we ‘deplaned’ – and walked over to the single-story terminal building.

It was cooler here than in Fort Worth, and I was glad for my denim jacket. Crying Wolf led the way. He had longer legs than I did, and he didn’t wait for me or Desert Flower, who was still shutting down the plane. As we approached the terminal, the door opened and a man in a denim jacket was holding it. Yay for denim! Whoever he was, he had my vote. Wolf was wearing a leather jacket, cut western style. Show off!

“Good to see you again, Alvin,” said Wolf, extending his hand for a shake. They clasped hands briefly. “This is the great, little one I want you to meet.” He turned toward me, extending his hand. “Lexi, meet Alvin Panther Strike, Chairman of the Tribal Council of the Navajo Nation. Alvin, meet Lexi White Snow.”

“Crying Wolf, I am glad to welcome you to the Naabeehó Bináhásdzo once again,” said the Chairman. “White Snow, I am glad to see you also. And I am more than pleased to see that Crying Wolf’s efforts have worked in your favor. Welcome home.”

I looked at his jeans, cowboy boots, flannel shirt, denim jacket, and his weather beaten face. He had a shiny, bald head with the long hair around the edge pulled back into a pony tail. Actually, since it didn’t include the hair from the top of his head, maybe I should call it a ‘phony’ tail. Anyway, it was time for me to put on the Lexi from life #1 with a little of the little girl from life #2.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Chairman. Is ‘ Naabeehó Bináhásdzo’ the name for the Navajo place? I’m sorry but I don’t speak Navajo,” said I. “I probably mangled the words.”

“We’ll fix that soon. The language of the Diné is easy to learn. Say ‘Yá’át’ééh’”

I tried to make the sound.

“Good! You just said ‘Hello.’ See? It’s simple. I’ll get you enrolled in our school.” He broke out into a broad smile. Typical politician. He had a solution, and it applied to any situation. Problem: young girl? Solution: school.

“Sir...” Time to get onto my program. “Can we move this meeting to a conference room, somewhere? I’ll want to meet with Bill Clearwater as well.”

“How do you know Bill?” Poor guy, he was genuinely puzzled. Red had filled me in about the Navajo hierarchy on the plane ride.

Crying Wolf smiled. “Alvin, I didn’t have time to brief you earlier. White Snow communes with the Great Spirit. I stake my name on that.”

There was a long pause, as Alvin Panther Strike processed that fact. “Perhaps we should have Chief Wild Mustang at our meeting.”

Aha! A test. “Maybe we should meet at Wild Mustang’s home. He is old and sick, is he not? I didn’t know that your Medicine Man was also a chief ... We can meet Mr. Clearwater later, after all.”

Alvin went into a deeper thinking mode. “Oh yes. I was mistaken. He is our Medicine Man, and member of our senior council. He is indeed an elder, and his back pains him from time to time ... Come, we will go to his home now.” And he led the way to his multi-colored SUV. He put Wolf and Desert Flower in the back, and escorted me to the shotgun seat. I strapped into the seat belt, and then held it off my chest.

“Lexi, I think you can put the chest strap behind you. We won’t have any accidents,” said Wolf. “Alvin, Lexi is just a few days past having a pipe bashed into her ribs, and the seat belt hurts her.”