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police. He came by to tell us.”
    The girl’s expression was taut. There was a touch of fear in her eyes. She refused to meet Ella’s gaze, and her own darted continually back to the sheep. Still, Ella sensed an uneasiness in the young girl thattranscended a natural distrust of the police. Navajos, particularly, the younger ones, were taught it was rude to meet someone’s gaze. Ella had been raised the same way. “Where can I find your mother?”
    Cindi led the way wordlessly to the house. As they approached, a short Navajo woman wearing a traditional multicolored long skirt and a bright red blouse came out to meet them.
    “I’m Ernestine.I’ve been expecting you.” The woman nodded, but didn’t invite Ella inside. Instead she gestured toward two metal chairs that were placed in the shade of the partially enclosed portal.
    Ella took one chair as Ernestine Dodge seated herself in the other. Her daughter stood silently by the door, watching. Ella waited a polite moment, then spoke. “I need to ask you some questions about your husband.”

    Ernestine nodded once. “There’s nothing I can tell you, only that I believe this is part of the trouble your family brought down on us. Your father stirred up all that evil because of his church and many were killed. Bad things always follow you, too, it seems. Just this morning after you went to where my husband was killed, a whole busload of our people were hurt right on the same road you’ddrive on to get there.”
    The statement had the impact of a physical blow. Although Ella knew it shouldn’t have taken her completely by surprise, the bluntness of Ernestine’s words was a shock. “Surely you don’t think that either me or my family is to blame for what has happened.”
    Ernestine shrugged. “Your family attracts trouble. That’s all I know.”
    Ella remained quiet, refusing to give in toanger or to sorrow over her father’s death. Her gaze drifted to the loom that had been set up at the other end of the porch, and then to the basketball goal on the old telephone pole by the fence. At long last she was ready to speak again. “The tragedies today had nothing to do with one another, or with my family,” she said calmly.
    “I may be wrong about the bus wreck, but I was told about thecondition of my husband’s body. He had no enemies. How else can it be explained?”
    “I don’t know yet, but I will,” Ella replied simply. “Had anyone threatened him, or had he been in an argument with anyone lately?”
    “No.”
    Cindi Dodge moved closer to her mother. “Well, he had been fighting with Stubby, Mr. Todacheene, over the water, remember? Daddy said Stubby took more than his share from theirrigation ditch, and everyone else was being shortchanged.”
    Ernestine scowled at her daughter. “That’s not a reason to kill a man like your father.”
    “Why don’t you let me decide that,” Ella answered, then shifted her gaze to Cindi. “Did you overhear any of these arguments?”
    Cindi shrugged. “Everyone did. Just ask around. But Stubby does pick fights. He likes annoying other people. At leastthat’s what Dad always said.”
    “It’s true,” Ernestine admitted. “But it still means nothing. Clyde Todacheene wouldn’t harm anyone.”
    “What about your husband’s students? Did he mention any who gave him trouble, or who were behaving strangely?”
    “No. In fact, he was pleased that they were so interested in the old ways and in learning what he had to teach. It wasn’t always that way, you know. Thisinterest in our past is something new among the young people.”
    “Would you be willing to take a look through his things and inside his truck, and tell us if anything is missing? I’d like to rule out robbery as a motive.”
    Ernestine looked horrified. “You know better than to ask me that. His truck was part of him, and the chindi …”
    Ella exhaled softly. “How about if I give you a list of what hehad with him inside the vehicle. Will you