Stealing Fire Page 17

  “Hello? What planet are we on, Grandfather?”

  “Ha ha. Mars, Yazzie. I never had more than one taste on the tongue.”

  “On Shore Patrol I tangled with drunks, swabbies just back from Tijuana, and I know the drill to make sure your head is okay.”

  He shook his head.

  I said, “Humor me.”

  He knew his name, he knew the date—well, close enough—he knew who I was, he knew who Frank was, he knew his birthdate. And he was acting normal.

  He said, “Pretty good, huh?”

  “Clue me in on what’s going on, and I’ll give you my opinion.”

  “Finnerty heard everything, right?” Grandpa said.

  “Everyone in the Four Corners probably heard you.”

  “Did I get the coyotes howling?”

  “No.”

  “I should have been louder,” he said. “You and I were having a regular conversation, and then my face slumped. I started acting nuts, like I had a breakdown or stroke number two, and now he thinks I hate the Irish. As a matter of fact, after pulling my knife, he might think I’m a semi-dangerous lunatic.”

  “So?”

  “It makes you his pal,” Grandfather said, “and me his enemy.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t you see?” Wright said. “He’ll want to avoid Mose like the plague, which makes it easier for you to watch me while Mose is watching him.”

  Mose winked his eye at Wright. “You, my friend, are a natural-born Coyote.”

  “As the kids say, it takes one to know one.”

  “Who the hell do you think Finnerty is?” I said.

  “One of the bad guys, Yazzie,” said Grandpa.

  “One of the bad guys,” echoed Wright.

  “Listen, old man, you ever pull a stunt like that on me again, and…”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll do something.”

  “Oh,” Wright said, “where is your sense of fun?”

  Just then, the nurse entered with Finnerty. Mr. Wright let out a scream that would have woken the dead and curled their hair.

  * * *

  What a scene.

  I had snuck around to the back of the barn where the old drunk had collapsed. I listened in on the young man and his grandfather.

  It was clear that my acting job had been good, maybe too good, because the old man went off on the Irish. It was ridiculous. I heard the name James Joyce, and Belfast. On and on. Somehow Wright snoozed through this diatribe.

  Then I thought I’d get a little closer, just a little closer, but the old guy must have had supersonic hearing. The old man, Mose was his name, lurched up, and yanked off his belt. It had the sharp edge of a knife hidden in the buckle. That was a close one!

  The grandson, Goldman, was relieved to see me. He helped me get the old man up to the cabin and in bed. When we got there, Frank Wright started acting up—how perfect was that? The young Goldman told me to get the nurse, but Wright was rummaging around under the covers.

  I grabbed the precious sketches he’d done that evening while pretending to tuck him in, and tucked them away. Easy to tell which ones they were—he folded them and hid them careful—and so simple to raise the thin mattress. Wright weighed nothing.

  The tall young Indian, Yazzie, yelled at me again to get the nurse. I ran. I had part of what I wanted, and young Goldman was not someone I wanted to tangle with.

  I would keep an eye on the old guy Mose, though. He’d be watching me, and he was no dummy.

  When I came in with the nurse, Wright let out a shriek that could have wakened the dead. With any luck, both old men would drop dead. Boy, would that make life easy. I decided to pretend Wright’s yelp scared me.

  Thirty-six

  Finnerty, the only one of us who remained mobile after that shriek, backed out slowly. He left the door wide open. I saw him turn and run up the hill and fast. Looked like he thought an entire army of faerie demons were after him. Chindi, those were bad enough. I imagined that faerie demons were along the same line.

  “Probably more bad liquor.” Mose laughed.

  The nurse said, “I never saw a man run that fast liquored up.”

  Wright sat on his bed, whiter than he usually was, and was without words. That was something new.

  “The man who just took off, Finnerty, came and got me to look at Mr. Goldman. Is that you?” She pointed to Wright.

  “It’s me,” my grandfather said.

  She felt his forehead, she took his pulse, she took his blood pressure, she listened to his chest. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine and dandy.”

  “Why did the guard roust me out of a sound sleep?”

  “Can’t explain how he acts.”

  Then she took a good look at Wright. “You, on the other hand, look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “Just a tarantula. I am deathly afraid of spiders.”

  “Well, we’ve got some big ones around here.”

  “This fellow was huge.”

  She also took his vitals. “Your pulse is a little fast, but other than that, you seem fine. I’ll hang around, if you characters don’t mind.”

  “There’s no extra bed.”

  “I can sleep in this chair just fine.”

  I doubled up with Grandpa. We all had a long, deep snooze.

  When the sun was nice and high, I looked around. The nurse was rearranging her clothes. “All right, guys, I think you’re all going to live. I’m headed to my tent if you need me.”

  “Thanks for staying.”

  “No problem. I’ve gotta say, you’d all do well in front of the camera. I know when the wool is being pulled over my eyes.”

  We three passed her weak smiles and waved her happy good-byes.

  “Oh,” she said, “check your shoes and shake them out before you put them on. Scorpions and tarantulas—they both like to climb inside shoes. One of our desert bonuses.”

  Frank said he would, indeed, check his shoes and apologized for making a jackass out of himself.

  “I work with movie stars,” she said. “I’m used to it.”

  Thirty-seven

  “Yazzie, I need to get in touch with Olgivanna.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yes, yes. But I’d like to speak with her right away,” Wright said. “Will you please escort me to a telephone?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Mose stirred himself and climbed into the same clothes he’d been wearing for a few days. He was a mess. As soon as he passed a mirror, and there are loads of them on a movie set, his dignity would take a deep dive. He’d sprinkled booze on himself like it was aftershave—his final touch for last night’s performance—so he smelled pretty ripe, too.

  My favorite time of year, autumn. Bright sky. Sun falling on my shoulders as easily as feathers. A flock of small birds, moving like the ocean, in a wave to the south. A few buzzards, catching the thermals. They would return with their bird-friends next March. No reason to feel so relaxed, but I did. Maybe gratitude for being surrounded with so much vibrant life.

  All three of us walked to Goulding’s office. Like my grandfather, Wright looked like a train wreck.

  And then it hit me. “Jesus God…”

  “What is it, Yazzie?” my grandfather said.

  “I didn’t tell Iris that I was staying in your cabin. Just that I was checking on you, and I’d be back soon. She must be worried sick.”

  “I told her you’d be out in the cabin with us last night.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Because, if I looked like I was knocking on death’s door, I knew you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  “You are so exasperating.”

  “You already said that to Frank. You’ve got to come up with some new lines.”

  “Well, you both are. Exasperating.”

  Mose crinked his neck. “Hey, Frank? You really okay?” he said.

  “I am. I just need to speak with my wife. It occurred to
me that I had forgotten an important detail in a client’s scheduled project. I need to get that message to her as soon as possible.”

  “With as much as we’ve had going on, it’s a wonder we can remember our own names.”

  Frank gave Mose a weak smile. “When this is over, I am never leaving home again.”

  At Harry’s private office Frank closed the door, and we heard his mumbled conversation. Then, all quiet on his end, and no words. I took the moment to hand Harry the piece of paper tablecloth with Wright’s sketches from last night and say softly, “Tube, gun safe.”

  Harry nodded.

  Iris slipped behind me and put her arms around my waist. I jumped so high that I almost hit the ceiling.

  “Yazzie, relax.”

  I may have been happier to see someone but I don’t know when it would have been.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “Just get out of here. Maybe a romantic night at La Posada before we head home.” She kissed my neck, she rubbed my lower back. She wasn’t an easy person to say no to. Not for me.

  I said, “We can’t do that.”

  “Because your job isn’t finished? Yazzie, we’re at the end of the line, almost done. After everything we’ve been through, no one would fault us for getting that check and heading home.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the money.”

  “Yes,” she said, “you do.” I held her eyes, and she held mine. “Okay,” Iris said. “I’ll reconsider. We can do this a few more days.”

  “Deal. Then we’re gone.”

  “And with a few extra bucks in our pockets.”

  “After all this?” I said. “It had better be more than a few extra bucks. And we promised each other—a house of our own.”

  “The Santa Fe house is big enough for ten families.”

  “But our own place, Iris. You’ve been chomping at the bit about that.”

  “Is a person allowed to change their mind?”

  “Okay, okay. Whatever you want.”

  “You don’t have to be so agreeable,” she said.

  “I’ll try to be more of a rat, honey.”

  And then she started to laugh. “Okay, you got me. I don’t care that much about having my own place. Not yet, anyway.”

  I held her by the shoulders and looked at her, really looked at her. “What changed your mind?”

  “I have news.” But then she said nothing.

  “You’re making me nervous, Iris. Spill it.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay, here goes,” she said. “I talked to my mother, who has been calling the doctor—driving him totally nuts—almost every hour.”

  Now I was scared. “Iris, is she okay?”

  “She will outlive us all.”

  “Thank God, but why all the calls?”

  “Yazzie? The rabbit died.”

  “We don’t even have a rabbit.”

  Grandfather let out a whoop and laughed. “You know the rabbit bit, Yazzie. You’re going to be a dad. And I am going to be a great-grandfather. Meaning I’ll get to see this kid drive you up the wall,” he said. “There truly is always something to live for.”

  “And,” Iris said, “a good reason to stay in the big house where we’ll have plenty of help.”

  Thirty-eight

  Just then I wished more than ever that we were home. I wished we were alone. I wished we were nestled in our own bed looking deep into each other’s eyes. I would say, How did this happen??? She would roll her eyes and say, The usual way. Apparently our bodies, together, have no use for birth control. And perhaps this baby came into the world as a Navajo. Navajos, we believe that sex is sort of a fairy tale. That babies happen when two people lay close and exchange breath. That breath mingles to create life. It’s a nifty way to look at the beginning of life.

  “Yazzie, we’re going to have to celebrate when we get home.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You’re happy?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I am ecstatic,” I said. And I was.

  Mr. Wright came out of the office, his face sparkling. Maybe he’d heard our news through the door.

  “Mr. Wright, all well?”

  “With me, all is well, yes and no. Mostly yes,” he said. “I called to talk with Mother, but I just missed her. As it turns out, she is on her way up. She felt that the details of a few projects were too much for her to handle over the phone, and she’s bringing the work to me.”

  “Wait, she left before speaking with you?”

  “We’ve always had that kind of relationship. She couldn’t get through on our party line in Arizona, so she set up various Fellows to take care of clients that were lined up, a few small jobs, and she left at dawn this morning. Mother should be here by afternoon or early evening.”

  I decided to step into dicey territory. “Who’s driving her?”

  “Helen Fine is driving her up.”

  “Helen?”

  “Don’t you think,” Wright said, “that a woman can drive?”

  “Yes, I’m just surprised that Helen would…” I didn’t know what to say.

  “Her duties are covered, and Helen can take care of herself. She is very resourceful.

  “Yazzie,” he said, “you look like you’re about to burst. You, too, Mose. What’s going on?”

  So I told him, everything that happened. Flag. Iris getting grilled. Wayne stepping in. The dead man turning out be to Payton.

  “Excellent. My mind is already so full!”

  The last thing I wanted any member of the Fine family to know was that Iris was pregnant. Helen may simply have been born into the wrong family, and I suspect that’s what happened. But if she’d turned bad, there was no turning that around. Also, what she knew could go straight to her father’s ear. I had no plans to make Iris and our baby vulnerable to threats or violence. I wished I could send Iris home to Santa Fe, but I also had no intention of her being out of my sight. Not until we cleared up this mess.

  “Iris,” I said, “from now on, we’re going to be each other’s shadow.”

  She launched into Al Jolson’s version of “Me and My Shadow,” and my grandfather added a little soft shoe.

  “I’m serious.”

  Grandpa said, “You want serious? Good. I think it’s time for the three of us to have a talk where no one can find us or eavesdrop.”

  “Should we stick Finnerty on guarding Wright?”

  “Nope,” Grandpa said. “Someone else. Anyone.”

  “Trusting your instincts on this one.”

  As it turned out, Harry Goulding was Mr. Wright’s shadow that day, and he was glad for the chance. Harry hadn’t heard all eighty years of Wright’s stories.

  The three of us walked upstairs to the bedroom for our private talk. Harry hollered at my back, “Hey, Yazzie! Don’t forget about the Ute guy. He’s still hanging around, waiting to talk to you.”

  Grandpa said, “Well, he’s persistent. I’ll give him that.”

  Thirty-nine

  I closed our bedroom door in Harry and Mike’s place and sat on an old-fashioned chair that was little and rickety. Looked like it was the last remaining piece of a long-gone dining set built for people a whole lot smaller than me. Iris and Grandfather sat together on the edge of the bed.

  “First, sweetheart,” I said, “don’t tell anyone you’re expecting. We don’t want it dangled as a threat against you.”

  She understood. There was no way she was telling anyone. Fortunately, Wright had been wrapped up in himself and didn’t hear the news. Grandfather’s lips were sealed. Frieda and Mom were old-fashioned—they both thought it was bad luck to talk about a pregnancy until about ten minutes after the baby was born and deemed healthy. They also thought the dog, Shorty, was good luck and had somehow been responsible for this news. Iris had simply agreed with them. It’s often the easiest way to go.

  “Olgivanna’s arrival,” Grandpa said, “what do you make of that?”

  That was an easy one. “In
Wright’s mind,” I said, “it will be like the long-awaited steamer sailing into port, carrying all the supplies imaginable. She is his center. I don’t know what drafts they could be talking about, but there are homes to design, and given a large desk—the movie crew could whack one together for him in an hour—he’ll have the space he needs. Probably better than drawing on a tablecloth.”

  “After all,” said Iris, “age has made his designs so much better. He’s confident, experimental. He has been honing his skilled eye, and craft, for decades. He may have apprentices, but let’s face it—none of them are Frank Lloyd Wright.”

  My grandfather said, “I think his wife is worried about him. I don’t know what that shriek was about, but I can tell you one thing—the man has been coming to this desert for over a decade. He has seen a tarantula before.”

  “He was probably spooked to begin with.”

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “And maybe he wanted Finnerty gone. If so, his shriek sure did the trick.”

  “I haven’t been in the wife business very long,” Iris said, “but if things get strange, men sometimes depend on women to be their compass.”

  Someone to tell Wright if a situation was as weird as he thought, or if his imagination was getting the best of him … That made sense to me.

  “Before Olgivanna gets here, I want to clean up a few loose ends. After she arrives, it won’t be easy. She is,” I said, “complicated.”

  “And very protective.”

  I thought a minute. “When it’s all said and done, we three are the people who count most. We love each other. Meaning, we watch out for each other.”

  “Absolutely,” Grandpa said.

  “Okay. You stay around Goulding’s with Iris. When she gets up to go to the bathroom, go with her. When you get up, she goes with you.”

  “Yazzie, I’ll just whiz off the porch. If I’m real lucky, I’ll hit someone.”

  “Grandpa.”

  “I was going off the balcony in Santa Fe as soon as I was taller than the rail. Caught hell for it a few times, too.”

  “I guess,” Iris said, “we should call you Dead-eye Dick.”

  Grandpa slapped both knees and hooted.

  “Iris, he’ll get even for that—but stay together and don’t leave this building. I’m out and about, checking on Wright. Sniffing around.”