Sacred Clowns

“I’d say like a dead sheep draws crows,” Chee said. “But since you’re a lawyer yourself, I guess I won’t.”

“How about like honey draws bears,” she said. “That sounds nicer. By the way, Roger told me he saw your letter in the Times. He liked it. He said he thought it was the best way to attack it.”

Chee found himself reacting as he did too often to praise from Janet Pete. Embarrassment. “Did you do some of that when you worked in Washington? Lobby, I mean.”

“Not much,” Janet said. “One branch of the firm sort of specialized in representing tribes, and fights over tribal water rights. That sort of thing. All sorts of disagreements involving Indian affairs.” She laughed. “Need I say we were on whatever side of the affair had the money to spend. But mostly I just did research and paperwork. They only sent me over to lobby for something when they needed a real Indian to look good for a liberal congressman.”

“You would have looked good to me,” Chee said. “I like real Indian ladies.”

She smiled at him. “I try to look good,” she said. “How do you like this new shirt?”

Chee inspected it, trying not to stare at the curve of her breasts too obviously and to think of exactly the right thing to say. He rejected two ideas as inappropriate, and decided on “wonderful.” But before he could say it, a big voice just behind him said:

“Hey, Janet. I wondered if I’d run into you. Someone said you’d come back out here.”

“Hello, Ed,” Janet said, in a carefully neutral voice. “How are you?”

Ed was standing beside their table now, looking down at them. “Just fine,” he said. “Maybe getting a little old for all this traveling. How about you, though? You’re looking good.”

“Jim,” Janet said. “This is Ed Zeck. Ed Zeck, Jim Chee. Ed’s one of the associates in Dalman and so forth. He runs the Santa Fe operation. He’s sort of an expert on Pueblo water rights, and lands claims, and things like that. That made him one of my multitude of bosses. And Mr. Chee is an officer of the Navajo Tribal Police.”

“Don’t get up,” Zeck said to Chee. He offered his hand and Chee shook it. He was a big man, over six feet tall, Chee guessed, and broad, with a round, friendly face and a receding hairline. His eyes were blue, made to look even lighter than they were by his dark, sunta

“I hope I’m not intruding here,” Zeck said to Chee. “But if you’re arresting Janet, reading her rights before you take her in, maybe I can get a job representing her.”

“We’re just talking,” Chee said, wishing he had said something witty and hoping that Janet wouldn’t invite this man to join them. Nothing against Zeck, just that he didn’t want Janet distracted.

“Jim Chee,” Zeck said. “I seem to co

“Same Chee.”

Zeck’s expression was less friendly. “I didn’t realize the writer was a tribal policeman,” Zeck said. “Wasn’t that pretty political for a policeman?”

“We don’t sign away our First Amendment rights,” Chee said. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle this so he laughed and said, “It was just another way to defend the people from the bad guys.”

And then he sat there feeling foolish, conscious of how pompous that must have sounded.

“The bad guys in this case being Ed’s client,” Janet said. “Is that correct, Ed? Is the firm handling Continental Collectors these days?”

“That’s us,” Zeck said. “Working as always to bring a little economic development where it’s needed.”

“Are you staying at the Navajo Nation I

“Wonderful,” Zeck said. “Even though all the gossip doesn’t leak down to Santa Fe.” He fished his room key from his pocket, inspected it. “Two-seventeen,” he said. “I’m having di

“What else are you pushing with the tribe?” Janet said. “Does the firm still represent Peabody Coal?”

“We lost ’em,” Zeck said. “I’m here this time solely as counsel for Continental Collectors Corporation. They’re lining up the paperwork to use an old strip mine over in New Mexico as a waste disposal site. Hire a hundred or so local folks at about eighteen dollars an hour to handle the machinery. Cause a big reduction in the unemployment rate. Put a big influx of property tax money into the school funds. And, after it fills up in about a hundred years, get that old hole in the ground reclaimed under a thick layer of topsoil so grass will grow on it. Mr. Chee here can tell you all about it.”

“Yes,” Janet said. “It sounds great if you like a garbage landfill in your backyard.”

“You know anything that could be helpful?” Zeck asked. He glanced down at Chee and then back at Janet. “I think we might need a legal consultant here.”

“I’m working for the Navajo Nation,” Janet said. “I’m not for-” She paused, picking the word. “ – for hire,” she concluded.

“It would be a great way to represent the tribe,” Zeck said. “I know it’s mostly on Tano land, not on the reservation, but the rail spurs cross some Checkerboard land so it’d be worth something to have the Council for it.”

“I’ve heard it would be a toxic waste dump,” Chee said. “Chemicals. Maybe radioactive stuff. Why don’t you store it there at Santa Fe? Or in Co

Zeck smiled down at him. “I bet you know the answer to that. It would cost too much money. They don’t have a big, empty open pit mine back there in Co

“And nonunion labor,” Janet said.

Zeck transferred his smile to her. “That, too,” he said. “Labor is cheaper out here. I’ll bet you’ve noticed that yourself.”

“I took a pay cut,” she said. “But it costs a person less to live out here. Costs less than Washington I mean. And I’m not talking about money.”

Zeck’s smile widened. “Janet,” he said, “you haven’t lost your sting, have you? But have you become a tree hugger? Or, as we call them in dilettante Santa Fe, a fern fondler?”

She didn’t answer because another voice from behind Chee was saying, “Aha, Miss Pete. I have caught you consorting with the enemy.”

“Here comes the man from Nature First,” Zeck said. “Hello, Roger. How are you?”

“Fine,” the man said. “How about you?”

“I think Janet and I are both losing it. We’re arguing, and we’re both lawyers, and lawyers don’t argue without getting paid for it. With that I have to leave you.”

So did the man from Nature First. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Janet. “I want to tell the waitress not to hold that table for me.”

Zeck looked after him, then down at Janet. “Well,” he said, “I think you already have a luncheon conference. Or is it a consultancy?” He chuckled. “I’ll see you later.”

“He’s not joining us, is he?” Chee asked. “That second guy?”

“That’s Applebee. I guess he’s out here working the other side – trying to stop the waste dump. You said you’d like to talk to him,” Janet said. “Here’s your chance. He wanted to see me, so I asked him to join us.”

“Oh.” He’d intended it to sound neutral, but it came out disappointed.

Janet looked up at him. “I guess I could have gotten out of it. I could still meet him later. But he’ll want to talk about the waste dump and you’re interested in that. Or I thought you were.”

“That’s okay,” Chee said. “Sure I am.”

“Did you want to talk to me privately? You know. Not just for a chat?”