Cottonwood Grove

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Saturday, July 18, 1868

In the pre-dawn quiet, three Shoshone boys slid from their ponies. They stood together, facing east, a row of cottonwood trees behind them. As the sun glided upward, each boy offered a pinch of tobacco to bless the new day and their hunt. Their untethered ponies pawed the ground, by the trees, waiting impatiently to ride for buffalo.

 

Still a year away from their initiation as warriors, the boys had slipped out of camp in secret, eager to prove their value to the tribe. It was a dry summer with meager prospects for food and the boys were determined to return to the village that night, each with a buffalo to present.

 

A sudden gust of wind whipped through the cottonwood. The ponies neighed. The boys turned but before they could react, bullets zinged at them from the rocky mound just beyond and above the stand of cottonwood.

 

The noise of the attack sent the ponies skittering backwards and the boys were torn between making themselves targets if they grabbed for the reins or trying to shelter their own slim forms behind the trees. Because they had been consumed with the idea of the sacred morning prayer, their own weapons were still slung over the ponies –out of reach.

 

It seemed as though the air, so still a moment before, was now alive with the sound of screaming lead. The ponies, now completely “spooked” turned from their backward skitter, wheeled around into a full run, away from the cottonwood grove, pounding back toward the village.

But the boys were pinned down. They drew their knives, each silently hoping that the men behind the guns would run out of bullets and draw their own knives. But the bullets kept coming, almost endlessly, it seemed.

 

Bullets pinged stones, thudded into trees, splayed the ground, and finally, one by one the bullets tore apart the dreams and hopes of each of the three Shoshone boys. The bullets continued, even after one of the men had run the few steps from the rocks, to a kneeling position where he could see that the boys were laying on the ground. At last he called, “Cease fire!”

 

By then the ponies were mere specks on the far horizon. “Damn!” swore the leader of the blue-coated marksmen “They’re too fast for us to catch on Army nags. But, catchin’ them sure woulda made this day worthwhile.”

 

One of the men wandered the rest of the way over to the dead boys. “Nuthin’ much here,” he muttered. He took the first boy’s hunting knife was taken. The Patrol leader took the knife of the second boy and they drew straws to see who would get the third as a souvenir. One of the men took boys’ pollen ouches and emptied them out, looking for gold nuggets. When he did not find any, he threw them on the ground. “Damn, nothing worth anything on these boys!”

 

Then they mounted their own wiry brown army horses and headed back to the fort. The patrol report for that day didn’t even mention the incident, accounting for the expended ammunition as “target practice.”

 

When the three tired Indian ponies finally ambled back into Shoshone camp, worried braves and women pulled them in and wiped them down. The boys’ fathers looked the ponies over, saw the bows and rifles still slung upon their backs. The men quickly mounted their own horses and followed the trail back to the cottonwood stand, trailing the boys’ ponies behind.

 

They saw the rocks that had been chipped by the bullets. They saw the nicks in the trees made by the bullets. They saw the splayed lead lines on the dirt and the lifeless bodies of their sons.

 

In silence they laid the boys upon their own mounts, one last time and carried the boys to the tribe’s burial place, a rock slide in the side of a nearby mountain.

 

After a few weeks, wild grass and flowers began to grow over the places where the lead had splayed out on the dirt. Over months, bark grew over nicked places in the trees. In a few years, the wind had even worn smooth any bullet pings in the rocks.

 

But the stain of the deed remained deep within the earth; deeper still in the hearts of the Shoshone.

 

 

Tuesday July 10, 2007

 

Will Johnston grimaced as his old red pickup shuddered along the empty 100-mile stretch of Highway 80 between Elko and his trailer. He was hurrying home. Ellie, his very pregnant wife, was waiting alone for him and the bottled water he had bought in Elko. Since their well had gone low and brackish, the weekly Elko shopping trip now also meant loading up with water. Six weeks earlier, Ellie’s doctor had ordered her to bed for the remainder of her pregnancy. Only two more weeks now, but it would be a long two weeks for them both. Will was goring more and more tired as the days went by—not only in sympathy with the every growing bulk that made Ellie tired, but because as she grew, Will did all of Ellie’s chores around the house and farm as well as his own.

 

And, besides the slowing of time as a much-anticipated event occurs, there was the growing fear that the birth might occur while Will was not at home; when Ellie was home alone at least twenty-five miles from the nearest neighbor. Will especially hated leaving Ellie all alone, when he had to make the 100 mile drive to Elko. So, he tried to plan those trips for Tuesday’s when Ellie’s solitude was broken by Nurse Nan Crimlow’s Tuesday visit.

 

Today, one of those Tuesdays, Will was coasting along the road, errands finished, headed merrily toward home. As he drove, he was listening to the news on station KLKO, the area’s best rock station, his pickup, “Old Blue”, began to sputter. Steam, (or was it smoke?) curled up from under the hood. Then the engine cut out completely. Will steered the coasting vehicle toward a stand of cottonwood.

 

He sighed, thinking that at least he’d have shade while he waited for the engine to cool enough for him to check it out. Will was glad that his new position as manager of the Shoshone –owned ranch where he had labored for five years as a buckaroo— came with the use of a cell phone. He took it out. No service.

 

“Figures! This place is the last place I’d want to stop, but I guess shade is better than sun if I have to wait until the next person comes by to help. Or, maybe over there by the trees, farther from this rock, I will have service.”

 

Will shook his head. Usually he pressed his foot to the floor when he approached this little stand of trees, flying past in it in a streak of blue. But today, his blue chariot had chosen just this spot to die.

 

He had dreamed about the spot, a restless sort of dream. In his dream, dark shadows swarmed over the cottonwood and the rocky mound behind it—the dream had come more than once and always left him uneasy, and sometimes even shaking and afraid when he awoke.

 

Actually, the car had stopped a few hundred yards short of the trees. Will got out and walked toward the puddle of shade afforded by the trees. As he approached the trees, two vultures that had been pecking at something, flew up, squawked and fled into the open sky.

 

Curious, Will quickened his pace. At the foot of the tree, in a heap at the bottom of the largest of the cottonwood lay the body of Randy Hartsell, neighbor and water adversary! The Elko rumor mill held that Randy’s efforts to re-open a silver mining operation on the ranch next to his was the cause of the newly low levels and brackish nature of the his well water.

 

Will turned the body to see if he could help—after all, he was a neighbor. But Randy’s formerly handsome, tan face bore a look of deep surprise. The look seemed to be directed at the knife hilt that marked the location of Randy’s heart. Blood had streamed out from that wound and several bullet holes, darkening Randy’s shirt and the ground around the body.

 

Will stepped back from the body and pulled out his cell phone again. Thank goodness! He had a few bars. He punched in 9-1-1 to reach Sheriff Gabe Ybarra, and then called his boss, and Ellie. Ellie told him that the nurse had already left but not to worry about her. She would be fine until he got home—whenever that would be.

 

Sheriff Ybarra arrived first but Will’s boss, Jim Many Elks, pulled up not long after.

Jim gave Will the welcome news that Ellie was not alone. He had sent his Wanda over to sit with Ellie and Wanda was, probably even as they spoke, sharing the latest Elko gossip with Ellie and Ellie and Will’s unborn child.

 

On viewing the body, the Sheriff shook his head over the gratuitous violence that ended the life of Randy Hartsell.

“I need to take your statement, Will.” The Sheriff’s face indicated that he knew about the mini-feud between Hartsell and Will. But before Will could say anything, Jim looked up and over at the road.

 

Suddenly, Jim pointed at an old yellow jeep barreling down the road, at a speed probably far exceeding the speed limit. Jim grinned at Will and the Sheriff. “Sheriff, we gotta go. That’s my other car—the one that Wanda took over to Will’s place to stay with Ellie. You’re going to have to wait to take his statement. I reckon Will’s got an important appointment in Elko with his wife and the Emergency Room doctors who are going to deliver his baby.”

 

Sheriff Ybarra ran his hand through what was left of a Marine style haircut, replaced his hat and clapped Will on the back. He even smiled. “ Congrats, son! You and Jim go on. I’ll get your statement later, at the hospital. ”

 

As Will and Jim drove away, back into Elko in Jim’s truck, the Sheriff sat down in the shade of a neighboring tree to wait for the evidence techs and the tow truck that would take Old Blue to the garage for repairs.

 

Late that Tuesday night the Sheriff showed up at the hospital and Will gave him a statement. The Sheriff, who also had seen the mechanic’s report on Old Blue by then, seemed satisfied that Will had been in Elko at the time of Hartsell’s demise.

 

On the next day, Will tried to put the incident out of mind. Despite the horror of it, not thinking about the death of Randy Hartsell was not really all that hard considering that the next two days were a blur of activity. He was consumed the with the agony of Ellie’s emergency C-section, worn out by his fears and then sapped by the elation of knowing that Ellie was ok and the joy of holding his delicate baby daughter for the first time. Of course the hoards of visits by well-wishers from all over town and two nights of sleeping in the chair next to Ellie’s bed also contributed to his overall state of exhaustion.

 

 

 

 

Thursday July 12, 2007

 

But by Thursday afternoon the horror resurfaced. Will was set to leave the hospital and sleep at home so he would be well rested when he returned to drive Ellie and the baby home the next day. The nurses had let him sleep in another room. He had gathered up the items loaned to him for his stay .

 

As he was kissing Ellie good-bye, Wanda burst into the hospital room. Wanda’s thick black hair, usually in neat shining braids, hung in unruly masses about her shoulders. She choked out her words between sobs: “Jim’s had been taken in for questioning as a suspect in Randy’s murder!”

 

Between sobs, Wanda told them that although ballistics was still checking on Jim’s rifle. Wanda said that everyone in town knew of Jim’s many loud and acrimonious arguments with Randy over water. It seemed that the bullets found in and near the body were common to the type of hunting rifle Jim owned. But the circumstantial clincher was the knife—an antique Shoshone hunting knife. Everyone in town knew that Jim had a small collection of antique Shoshone hunting bows and other items. Why not a knife? And Jim had no alibi for that morning. Wanda had been at the Reservation school teaching the older girls the traditional art of twisting horsehair Macartys, the rein plus tie-up ropes used to train horses. Jim had been home alone simply walking the ranch, checking the crops, looking over the animals. Nothing substantial. No one to substantiate his story.

 

“Maybe Nurse Crimlow saw something on her way back to Elko from our place,” offered Ellie. “She came at ten but only stayed five minutes instead of her usual hour. She seemed kind of off so, since I was worried about her, I never even told her about my pains— I was having some pains even then, actually, before you even left for Elko, Will.”

Will grimaced and Ellie continued.

“You know, I don’t even think she took my blood pressure. She never even took off her suede jacket. She usually talks to me about her collection of Shoshone bead work. Of course, she was so distracted, she might not have noticed anything on her way back to the hospital.”

 

Will jumped into the narrative: “I got to Elko at nine and was in and out of stores, loading stuff, including the water and was by the cottonwoods around three in the afternoon.” He turned to their neighbor who was shaking her head in amazement. “Wanda, did they say when Hartsell died?”
”The Sheriff told us that they aren’t sure yet. The heat makes it harder to tell exact times and all.”

 

After settling Ellie back into the bead and admiring the new baby, Will agreed to go home, check out things on the farm that Jim might not have been able to get to, and then comeback the next morning to pick up Ellie. Wanda said that she had to leave as well.

Will walked Wanda out to the parking lot. As they walked, Wanda pulled a yellow piece of paper out of her hand woven bag. “Will, Jim came into town yesterday and took the water out to the ranch for you–and the other things that you left in Old Blue. He said to give this to you.”

 

Will looked down at the mechanic’s bill for repairing “Old Blue”. “Whew! Not as bad as I was thinking—just a new gasket cap needed. I won’t have to ride back with you. I can pick up Old Blue myself today so I won’t need a ride home, but I will stop at your place on my way back into Elko tomorrow morning to get Ellie to see if you need me to pick up anything for you in town.”

 

Wanda smiled. Wanda liked Will and Ellie, the young Anglo couple who worked for her people. She and her husband had argued with the other Shoshone elders in favor of Will’s promotion to manager. She and Jim felt that both Will and Ellie were full of “good medicine .”

Then she answered Will. “ We have everything we need. How making some time on the way home to stop and have lunch with us—then we can enjoy the baby and Ellie too. Have you two named the baby, yet? Wanda asked.

 

“I’ll see how tired Ellie is and give you a call when we leave the hospital. About the name for the baby–we were thinking of Rachel or maybe Rebecca. What do you think?”

 

“Both names are nice.” Wanda smiled again, gave Will a hug and got into her own car. Will loped off, tired, but happy toward the repair shop.

 

Wanda called after Will. “Before you take the baby home tomorrow, Ellie might want to set up a baby visit schedule with Nan Crimlow.”

 

“Good idea—I’ll be sure to tell her to mention it to the nurse! Better yet, I’ll go and leave a note for Crimlow about that, right now.”

 

Will turned around and swung back through the hospital’s main doors. After a quick stop at the Information desk, he headed for Nurse Crimlow’s office. The term office was applied to what appeared to have been a former storage closet just off the administrative personnel break room. Both break room and office were empty. Will walked around the nurse’s desk looking for a piece of paper to leave her a note. As he reached across to an empty yellow pad on her desk, he noticed Nurse Crimlow’s suede jacket puddled on the floor behind her desk chair.

 

Will picked up the jacket to hang it onto the back of the chair. A paper fluttered out of an inside pocket. Will picked up the paper, a pink receipt from Injun Joe’s, that despite its politically incorrect name was Reno’s premier Native American art and artifacts gallery. His glance revealed that the receipt was made out to Hartsell and was for the purchase of one $5,000, circa 1860s Shoshone hunting knife.

 

Will didn’t stop to ponder why Crimlow had the receipt. He just pulled his phone and Sheriff Ybarra’s card from his own pocket and punched in the numbers. His back to the door as he spoke into the phone, Will did not notice Nurse Crimlow step into the break room. But she saw Will and noted the pink receipt in his hand. She spun around quietly, and walked out of the area, back to the main bank of elevators.

 

The Sheriff told Will to wait in the office and not to touch anything else. In a few minutes, Ybarra arrived with a search warrant and a desire to question the Nurse. While his deputies began the search of the office, Ybarra bagged the receipt and then strode down the hall to talk to the hospital administrator about the Nurse. Will was no longer needed so he left the office and went to tell Ellie what he had found.

 

On his way to Ellie’s he made a quick nursery stop to once again admire Baby Girl Wilson, whose red hair already promised a continuation of Ellie’s good looks. As he Will continued to the OB corridor, he heard a loudspeaker request the presence of Nurse Crimlow in the Administrator’s office. The Sheriff soon called him on the cell and told him that the Nurse was not in the hospital.

 

“I’m not sure I should leave you and the baby alone,” Will said to Ellie.

 

“We’re not alone. We are in a major hospital with lots of folks around us. What did the Sheriff say?”

“He told me to go ahead home and to come back to pick up you and the baby tomorrow morning as we had planned. After all, the Nurse is just wanted for questioning. Oh, by the way, Wanda suggested that you should schedule some time with the nurse for mom-baby type stuff—you know, a few more home visits maybe coming in to the hospital since our insurance seems to cover that even tho it kicks you out of here by tomorrow at noon no matter what.”

 

“Insurance is a mystery, but thank goodness, babies aren’t. I’ think that if you read the fine print, extra visits by the nurse are not covered, but no matter—Wanda and some of the other women from the tribe can give me all the help that I need. Just as good as having my own Mom here, if she were still living.”

 

Will left and made the walk the rest of the way to the mechanic. Then he and “Old Blue” drove back to the ranch. “Old Blue” seemed to rest well in the driveway, but alone in the house, Will tossed and turned and was drinking his second cup of coffee well before dawn.

 

Friday, July 13, 2007

When the first light of morning spread over the ranch, Will fastened the new baby car seat into the middle place in the truck’s seat, turned the key and quietly asked “Old Blue” to ride as roughly as he wanted on the way to Elko, but to keep it smooth on the way back because Ellie and the baby would be in the cab with him.

 

 

He strolled through the doors of the hospital whistling as he walked to the bank of elevators, humming as he chugged down the hall to the nursery. He had to stifle as full –out song when he saw his daughter again and he fairly floated down the OB hall to Ellie’s room. Ellie’s bed was empty. Will’s stomach began to churn. He went down the hall to talk to the nurses and once he confirmed that they had not seen Ellie since the four AM check, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in Ybarra’s number.

 

The Sheriff arrived looking grim. His mood did not improve when the floor nurse said she had also seen Nurse Crimlow that evening.

 

Ybarra then walked down to the administrator’s office and asked to speak to the nurses, starting with the head nurse. Will was not invited, but followed along and no one told him to leave. While they were waiting, Ybarra turned to Will and told him that yesterday he had learned that the hospital was abuzz with rumors that Crimlow was stealing drugs to sell for the cash to feed her art habit.

 

Head nurse, Sue Wilson, came in first. “The hospital has been full of rumors about Crimlow but I didn’t see her last Tuesday or yesterday.”

 

“Rumors?” asked Ybarra.

 

Will flicked his bolo tie impatiently. If Ybarra knew about the rumors why was he asking again? Then Will understood—asking the same question over and over sometimes rolls over new information!

 

Sue, a tall lanky blonde with the chiseled hard looks of a drill sergeant, began to blush. “Well, folks had seen her around with Randy Hartsell—I know he is a collector too, like she is, but they seemed to be mighty close, closer than need be for looking at Indian stuff together.”

 

Before she could continue there was a knock at the door. The deputy opened it to find new widow, Livia Hartsell standing outside the hospital administrator’s door. She looked great for someone in mourning—soft white linen blouse, understated but clean jeans and a fabulous Navajo necklace. Her belt was a silver concho work that glittered in the sunlight and her earrings were a delicate balance of coral and turquoise—tiny birds that looked as if they might take flight across the river her long blonde hair that flowed freely about her shoulders.

 

Livia strode confidently into the room. “Your other deputies sent me up here, Sheriff. I went to Crimlow’s office to confront her about a Navajo rug missing from Randy’s and my collection. “

The Sheriff asked the nurse to step out but to be ready for further questions later. She seemed to be relieved to leave. Then he closed the door again and invited Livia Hartsell to sit down. Will took a seat on the other side of the room.

 

“Why would you think that she might have your rug?”

 

“Well, she had a number of things of mine—including my husband, it seems. Randy confessed last week about his affair with HER. They met at an auction. She was all into crafts and fine art—Randy was into fine art and weapons. But he told me that even though the affair had gone on for a year, he was bored with her and her constant opinions about his art. He said that he loved only me and that he was going to break up with her on Tuesday. Not that I believed him”

 

“About the break-up?”

 

“Oh no, I’m sure he was serious about that—ego and all, but I am sure that Randy loved only one person—himself. I have known for years that he was having affairs, but you see, I like being the wife of a preeminent collector and I love Navajo jewelry so I put up with him. Leaving her and coming back to me was all part of the routine.”

 

Just then Will’s phone began to croon “rock-a-bye-baby”. He answered and heard Ellie: “Help, Will!”

 

Crimlow came on the line: “Don’t try to follow me or your wife will join that slimy Randy in hell. I’ll leave Ellie at the Reno airport in my car. Don’t try to stop me from flying out.. Give me space and let me go or else.” The phone went dead.

 

“What can I do? “ Will asked the Sheriff.

 

“Pray, son, pray,” answered Ybarra. “I’ll go to Reno.”

Will shook his head. “I can’t stay here.”

The two men ran down to the parking lot. The Sheriff got into his car, ordered deputies to contact the Reno police and then he allowed the nervous young buckaroo to fold his six foot three frame into the police car. “Consider yourself a deputy, Will. There’s a spare badge in the glove box.”

 

By the time they arrived at the Reno airport, Ellie had already been rescued from the car trunk by the Reno police and was already waiting in a police ambulance, to greet Will before being taken for a precautionary examination at Reno Medical Center.

 

It was not long before Crimlow was in custody. The police searched the airport buildings and then asked the airport authority to board and deplane all passengers from the tarmac. Passengers were funneled in and out of the terminal building one by one, until the police spotted and were able to grab Crimlow as she attempted to board a plane for Mexico City. Her ticket would have taken her on to Brazil. She didn’t have to worry abut her luggage—it was all carry—on. She wasn’t going to worry about money either because the bag was full of prime Native American art and artifacts.

 

 

Tuesday July 17, 2007

The following Tuesday, Ellie and Will and little Rebecca hosted a celebration dinner with Jim and Wanda and Gabe and Marie Ybarra as guests.

 

“What I don’t get,” asked Jim, is why Crimlow killed Randy. Was it because he was dumping her?”

Gabe chuckled. “She loved his art collection more than she loved him. And while they were “dating” she was systematically looting his collection. It seems that the rug was just one of the things that was missing. Her version of the break-up is a bit different from the wife’s. She says that last Tuesday, Hartsell broke it off with her even though he loved her more than he loved his wife. But it seems that he loved his collection more than both of them—the reason he didn’t want to leave Livia was so he wouldn’t have to break up his artifact collection by having to give half to his wife in a divorce settlement. “

 

Then, after dumping Crimlow, he demanded the return her of the Navajo rug that Livia was grousing about. But actually, that wasn’t one of the things she had stolen. He had given that to her. She went ballistic over his pettiness in wanting the rug back. She used his knife (that she had slipped out of his collection at an earlier rendezvous, along with the receipt to show provenance) and then shot him with his own rifle.”

 

“How did she get the knife.” Ellie asked.

“Well, it seems that they had several favorite places for their trysts—one was his office, where he kept a large part of his collection, the other was his own house while his wife was out..”

 

The wives all grimaced at that revelation.

 

“And the last was behind the rocks at the cottonwood stand. They would sometimes picnic there. That Tuesday they were having an early morning, watch-the dawn picnic.”

 

“What about the shooting?” asked Jim.

 

“She took the gun from the back of Randy’s truck and shot him—seems he had a gun really like yours, Jim—kept it in the truck for snakes and such I imagine.”

 

“But not even Jim noticed evidence of their cars—how did they get to the Cottonwoods that day?”

 

“Well, after she shot him, she dragged him over to the trees where he continued to bleed for a bit. She very carefully wiped out the evidence of tires and footprints with a branch. Seems our girl was an outdoorsy type. She admitted that the hardest part of the deal was getting rid of the evidence of the presence of the cars. That day they came in one car—Randy’s . She hid Randy’s car under some brush in a cave entrance just a few hundred yards away. We found it last Friday. After hiding the car, she walked back into town, hitched a ride actually, got her own car back and then drove on to Will’s house to examine Ellie. Her suede jacket had bloodstains on the lining. She thought you had seen the bloodstains as well as the receipt.”

 

Will shook his head and told the group about his dream about the stand of trees and the rocks behind.

 

“That whole grove of cottonwood and the rocks behind— it’s been a bad place for quite some time,” said Marie.

 

“You have good reason to have bad feelings about the place,” said Gabe.

 

Jim then recounted the story of the murder of the three Shoshone boys by the soldiers from Elko’s fort. “Some say their spirits seek revenge.”

 

“I’ll be afraid to drive by with our little Rebecca,” commented Ellie.

 

Will looked out at the people sitting at the table.

 

“We’ll do the clean-up, Ellie, ” offered Marie and Wanda. Ellie thanked them and went into the back room to put little Rebecca to bed. While the wives washed dishes, Will, Gabe, and Jim stepped outside.

 

The three men looked up at the sky full of stars. They contemplated the beauty in silence for several minutes. Will spoke first. “Greed has made that beautiful spot into a place of sadness and death. I’d like to put a stop to the sadness.”

 

Jim looked at him. “For many years now, my people have felt the pain of the deeds of that place.”

 

Ybarra added. “I’ve had other problems there –drug dealers meeting there, illegals being dropped off there—the bad stuff just seems to gravitate to that place.”

 

Will set his chin. “I think we can break the chain, if you two will help me, that is.” He then explained his plan. The other two men were not fully convinced but they agreed.

 

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

As the sun glided up from the horizon, Will Johnston, Jim Many Elks, and Sheriff Gabe Ybarra stood under the cottonwood, facing east. They offered pollen to the dawn, beat Jim’s sacred drum and sang of healing and love in Shoshone, English, and Basque. The three men smoked sacred tobacco from the same carved clay pipe.

A soft breeze carried the sacred smoke and the sound of their praying voices into the cottonwood leaves, out to the rocks and back again. When they finished the cleansing ceremony, they sat down under the cottonwood.

An eagle swooped by, dipping a wing as if in greeting. The sun shone brightly–so brightly that there were no dark places left on the trees, on the ground, in the rocks, or in the hearts of the people.

—–

Joan Leotta
Author and Story Performer
http://voicesintheglen.org/tellers/jleotta
www.joanleotta.com