thillerman.theblessingway-第26节

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　Chapter　15
　
　At　approximately　four　o'clock　Joe　Leaphorn；　sweating　profusely；　led　his　borrowed　horse　the　last　steep　yards　to　the　top　of　the　ridge　behind　Ceniza　Mesa。　Almost　immediately　he　found　exactly　what　he　had　hoped　to　find。　And　when　he　found　it　the　pieces　of　the　puzzle　locked　neatly　into　place…confirming　his　meticulously　logical　conclusions。　He　knew　why　Luis　Horseman　had　been　killed。　He　knew；　with　equal　certainty；　that　the　Big　Navajo　had　done　the　killing。　The　fact　that　he　had　no　idea　how　he　could　prove　it　was　not；　for　the　moment；　important。
　At　about　ten　minutes　after　four　o'clock；　Lieutenant　Leaphorn　found　something　he　had　not　expected　to　find　on　the　Ceniza　ridge。　And　suddenly　he　was　no　longer　sure　of　anything。　This　unexpected　fact　visible　at　his　feet　fell　like　a　stone　in　a　reflecting　pool；　turning　the　mirrored　image　into　shattered　confusion。　The　answer　he　had　found　converted　itself　into　another　question。　Leaphorn　no　longer　had　any　idea　why　Horseman　had　died。　He　was；　in　fact；　more　baffled　than　ever。
　Leaphorn　had　left　the　Chinle　subagency　at　noon；　towing　Sam　George　Takes's　horse　and　trailer；　determined　to　learn　what　the　Big　Navajo　had　been　doing　at　Ceniza　Mesa。　At　first　he　drove　faster　than　he　should　because　he　was　worried。　Billy　Nez　had　e　home　from　the　Enemy　Way；　picked　up　his　rifle；　and　left　again　on　his　pony。　Charley　Nez；　as　usual；　didn't　know　where　he　had　gone。　But　Leaphorn　could　guess。　And　he　didn't　like　the　conclusion。　He　was　sure　Billy　Nez　would　ride　to　the　place　where　Luis　Horseman　had　hidden。　Nez　would　pick　up　the　tracks　of　the　Big　Navajo's　Land…Rover　there；　and　he　would　follow　it。　Because　Leaphorn　couldn't　think　his　way　through　the　puzzle　of　Luis　Horseman's　death；　he　had　no　idea　what　Nez　would　find…if　anything。　And　because　Leaphorn　didn't　know；　he　worried。
　Leaphorn　began　driving　more　slowly　and　worrying　less　as　the　carryall　climbed　the　long　slope　past　Many　Farms。　He　had　been　working　his　way　methodically　around　the　crucial　question；　the　question　which　held　the　key　to　this　entire　affair；　the　question　of　motive。　By　the　time　the　carryall　reached　the　summit　of　the　grade　and　began　the　gradual　drop　to　Agua　Sal　Wash　the　answer　was　taking　shape。　He　pulled　off　the　asphalt；　parked　on　the　shoulder　and　sat；　examining　his　potential　solution　for　flaws。　He　could　find　no　serious　ones；　and　that　eliminated　his　worry　about　young　Nez。　Nez　almost　certainly　wouldn't　find　the　Big　Navajo　on　the　Lukachukai　plateau。　The　man　would　be　long　gone。　And；　if　he　did　find　him；　it　wouldn't　matter　much　unless　Nez　did　something　remarkably　foolish。
　Leaphorn　went　through　his　solution　again；　looking　for　a　hole。　The　Big　Navajo　must　have　found　the　Army's　missing　rocket　on　Ceniza　Mesa。
　Why；　Leaphorn　asked　himself　angrily；　had　he　been　so　quick　to　reject　this　idea　when　he　learned　the　reward　was　canceled？　The　Big　Navajo　had　been　clearing　a　track　to　the　top　when　Billy　Nez　found　him　and　stole　the　hat。　He　would　have　needed　such　a　road　to　haul　the　remains　down。　And　then　he　had　cached　the　rocket　somewhere　until　he　could　find　out　how　to　collect　the　reward。　Horseman　had　found　the　rocket　and　claimed　it。　A　Navajo　would　not　kill　for　money；　but　he　would　kill　in　anger。　The　two　had　fought…fought　in　some　sandy　arroyo　bottom。　Horseman　had　been　smothered。　And　the　Big　Navajo　had　moved　his　body　down　to　Teastah　Wash。　Why？　〃To　avoid　having　the　area　where　his　rocket　was　hidden　searched　by　Law　and　Order　people　looking　for　Horseman。〃　Now　the　Big　Navajo　was　waiting；　with　the　inbred　patience　of　the　Dinee；　for　the　moment　when　sun；　wind；　and　birdsong　made　the　time　seem　right　to　claim　the　Army's　10；000。　Or　perhaps　he　had　learned　by　now　that　the　reward　had　been　canceled。　It　seemed　to　make　little　difference。　Leaphorn　could　think　of　no　possible　way　to　connect　the　missile　with　the　murder。
　He　looked　out　across　the　expanse　of　the　Agua　Sal　Valley；　past　Los　Gigantes　Buttes。　There　was　Ceniza　Mesa…twenty　miles　away；　a　table…topped　mass　of　stone　rising　out　of　an　ocean　of　ragged　erosion　like　an　immense　aircraft　carrier。　Eons　ago　the　mesa　had　been　part　of　the　Lukachukai　plateau。　It　was　still　moored　to　the　mountain　ramparts　by　a　sway…backed　saddle　ridge。　It　was　on　that　saddle　ridge　that　Billy　Nez　had　seen　the　Big　Navajo　working　and　it　was　there　Leaphorn　would　prove　his　theory。　Perhaps　Billy　Nez　had　lied。　Leaphorn　thought　about　it。　Billy　Nez　hadn't　lied。
　He　pulled　the　carryall　back　on　the　pavement　and　drove　down　the　slope　toward　Round　Rock；　enjoying　the　beauty　of　the　view。　For　the　first　time　since　the　body　of　Luis　Horseman　had　been　found　he　felt　at　peace　with　himself。　He　switched　on　the　radio。　〃Ha　at　isshq　nilj？〃　the　broadcast　voice　demanded。　〃What　clan　are　you？　Are　you　in　the　Jesus　clan？〃　Navajo　with　a　Texas　accent。　A　radio　preacher　from　Gallup。　Leaphorn　pushed　the　button。　Country　music　from　Cortez。　He　snapped　off　the　radio。
　〃He　stirs；　he　stirs；　he　stirs；　he　stirs；〃　Leaphorn　sang。
　〃Among　the　lands　of　dawning；　he　stirs；　he　stirs。
　The　pollen　Of　dawning；　he　stirs；　he　stirs。
　Now　in　old　age　wandering；　he　stirs；　he　stirs。
　Now　on　the　trail　of　beauty；　he　stirs；　Talking　God；　he　stirs。。。〃
　The　mood　lasted　past　Round　Rock；　past　the　turnoff　at　Seklagaidesi；　down　eleven　jolting　miles　of　ungraded　wagon　track。　Leaphorn　still　sang　the　endless　ritual　verses　from　the　Night　Way　as　he　unloaded　the　horse　where　the　track　dead…ended　at　an　abandoned　death　hogan。　He　trotted　the　animal　across　the　broken；　empty　landscape；　skirting　Toh…Chin…Lini　Butte；　moving　southeastward　toward　the　Ceniza　saddle。　He　saw　the　bones　of　a　sheep；　the　empty　burrows　of　a　prairie…dog　town；　and　the　moving　shadow　of　a　Cooper's　hawk　swinging　in　the　sky　above　him。　He　saw　no　tire　tracks　and　he　expected　to　see　none。　That　would　have　been　luck。　Leaphorn　never　counted　on　luck。　Instead　he　expected　order…the　natural　sequence　of　behavior；　the　cause　producing　the　natural　effect；　the　human　behaving　in　the　way　it　was　natural　for　him　to　behave。　He　counted　on　that　and　upon　his　own　ability　to　sort　out　the　chaos　of　observed　facts　and　find　in　them　this　natural　order。　Leaphorn　knew　from　experience　that　he　was　unusually　adept　at　this。　As　a　policeman；　he　found　it　to　be　talent　which　saved　him　a　great　deal　of　labor。　It　was　a　talent　which；　when　it　worked　unusually　well；　caused　him　a　faint　subconscious　uneasiness；　grating　on　his　ingrained　Navajo　conviction　that　any　divergence　from　the　human　norm　was　unnatural　and…therefore…unhealthy。　And　it　was　a　talent　which　caused　him；　when　the　facts　refused　to　fall　into　the　pattern　demanded　by　nature　and　the　Navajo　Way；　acute　mental　disfort。
　He　had　felt　that　disfort　ever　since　Horseman　had　turned　up　dead…contrary　to　nature　and　Leaphorn's　logic…far　from　the　place　where　nature　and　logic　insisted　he　should　be。　But　as　he　led　his　borrowed　horse　the　last　steep　yards　to　the　crest　of　the　Ceniza　saddle　the　disfort　was　gone。　The　top　of　the　ridge　was　narrow。　In　a　very　few　moments　he　would　find　tire　tracks　and　the　tracks　would　match　the　tread　pattern　drawn　for　him　by　Billy　Nez。　Of　that　Leaphorn　was　certain。　When　he　examined　these　tracks　he　would　find　the　Land…Rover　had　driven　up　the　saddle　to　the　mesa　top　empty　and　had　e　down　with　a　heavy　weight　on　its　rear　tires。　And　then　the　irritatingly　chaotic　affair　of　Luis　Horseman　would　be　basically　orderly；　with　only　a　few　minor　puzzles　to　solve。
　The　narrow　ridge　offered　few　choices　of　paths；　even　for　a　four…wheel…drive　vehicle；　and　Leaphorn　found　the　tire　tracks　quickly。　There　were　four　sets　instead　of　the　two　he　had　expected　to　find；　indicating　two　trips　up　and　two　trips　down。　He　made　no　attempt　to　find　meaning　in　that。　He　concentrated　on　the　fresher　tracks；　establishing　by　the　traction　direction　which　of　them　had　been　made　going　up　the　slope。　In　an　area　where　the　soil　was　soft　he　checked　the　depth　of　the　tire　marks。　Exactly　as　he　had　expected。　On　the　trip　down；　the　rear　tires　had　cut　almost　a　half…inch　deeper。
　Behind　him　the　horse　snorted　and　stamped；　fighting　off　the　flies。
　〃Horse；〃　Leaphorn　said；　〃it　es　out　just　the　way　we　figured　it　would。〃
　Leaphorn　rose　from　his　squat　and　brushed　a　fly　from　the　horse's　back。　There　was　no　trace　left　of　the　nagging　sense　of　wrongness　and　urgency　that　had　dogged　him　for　days；　none　of　that　vague；　undefined　feeling　that　something　unnatural　and　evil　was　afoot　in　his　territory。　He　understood　now。　It　was　a　good　feeling。
　And　then　Lieutenant　Joe　Leaphorn　took　two　short　steps　across　the　small　place　of　soft；　loamy　earth　and　looked　down　at　the　older　tracks。　He　recorded　the　fact　that　they　had　been　dimmed　by　at　least　one　rain　shower。　He　noticed　that　this　set；　too；　varied　in　the　depth　the　rear　tires　had　cut。　It　had　taken；　Leaphorn　thought　at　first；　two　trips　to　haul　down　the　remains　of　the　shattered　rocket。　A　split　second　later　his　mind　processed　what　his　eyes　were　seeing。　On　this　round　trip；　the　Land…Rover　had　carried　its　heavy　load　on　the　way　up…not　on　the　way　down。
　The　Navajo　language　is　too　specific　and　precise　to　lend　itself　to　effective　profanity。　Leaphorn　cursed　in　Spanish　and　then…at　length…in　English。
　It　took　Leaphorn　almost　three　hours　to　piece　together　as　much　as　he　could　of　what　had　happened　on　this　ridge　and　on　the　mesa　to　which　it　led。　He　worked　methodically　and　carefully；　resisting　an　urge　to　hurry。　And　when　he　p