fell backward, stunned, onto the ground. As he was struggling to his feet, the older native reached his hand into his leather jacket and pulled out a jagged hunting knife. But Achak was younger and quicker. As soon as he saw the glint of the blade, he lunged like a panther, delivering a solid kick to Frankie’s stomach, causing him to drop the knife, which flew through the air and landed a few yards away. Frankie doubled over, grunting in pain, holding his ribs.
Achak grabbed Anna’s hand and yanked her behind him, and the four of them ran toward their car in the distance, realizing Frankie was probably calling for back up.
“You’re gonna pay for this!” Frankie yelled after them, spitting blood as he slowly stood, clutching his side, and hobbled back toward the old Pontiac.
It was the last time Anna saw Jack and the last time she ever wanted to.
“I TOLD you I forbade you to see him!” Paco Becenti’s voice boomed this time, filling the entire house. Anna thought she saw the overhead lighting fixture in the living room shake, just like her legs were doing.
“And you, what were you thinking?” Her father turned next to Achak, who stood by her side.
“I’m very sorry, sir,” Achak said meekly.
He could blame me if he wanted to, Anna thought, proud for a moment of her good friend. I asked him to do it. He didn’t know what he was getting into. But I knew. Anna realized just then that deep down in a tiny part of her gut, she had felt like Jack wasn’t the good guy she had originally believed him to be. But she had foolishly ignored her instincts.
“You both have no idea how much trouble you’re in now, do you?” Paco’s icy anger thawed, melting into sadness.
The two teens stole a sideways glance at each other, and then they looked down, shaking their heads.
“Some members of the Council did some digging into Jack Foreman and his family. It turns out his father works for a pharmaceutical manufacturer. Jack used some Fentanyl that he stole from a shipment at the plant to mix into the marijuana he bought from his dealer in Sedona. The whole time he’s been out here in Arizona, he’s been mixing and selling bags of drugs to anybody that will buy them but mostly to various people on the reservation, including to young kids.”
Paco motioned his daughter and adopted son to come over to the dining room table in the adjoining room, where a manila folder lay. He opened it and laid out four photos of Native Americans, two older, two younger. “Besides the old man who had a heart attack, there was an elderly lady who had a partial stroke after using the marijuana for pain, one twelve-year-old who wound up in jail after hallucinating and torturing and killing someone’s pet dog, and one eleven-year-old who is now in a coma.”
Anna bit her lip, holding back tears for these innocent victims among her own people. Achak stood, showing no external emotion, but Anna knew if she looked into his eyes, she would see her grief mirrored there.
Paco gathered the photos and put them back into the folder and closed it. He turned and crossed his arms, letting the full impact of what he had shared sink in for several moments. Then he spoke in a firm, even voice, although Anna could tell he was having difficulty holding his emotions in check with what he was about to say.
“Jack is on the run from his family and the law right now, and the FBI has joined our police to hunt him down; when they catch him, he will be at the mercy of the court.
“The Navajo Nation Council expressed that both of you should also be brought to trial,” Paco said, his eyelids drooping a minute fraction with weariness, and suddenly Anna could see the pain she had caused her father. She wanted to wail, throw her arms around him, and beg his forgiveness like she had when she was a little girl, but she knew it would look undignified and disgraceful. It would only make the situation worse for both of them.
As if he could no longer look at her, Paco turned to Achak. “You, son, for assault against one of your brothers.” Achak nodded in acceptance. Then he turned to Anna with a blank stare, as if he could no longer see her. “And you, daughter, for drug and alcohol possession. And both of you for aiding and abetting a known criminal who may be wanted for murder should one of these victims die,” he added. “Because of my standing in the Navajo Nation as a medicine man, I was able to ask that, instead of you both being brought to trial and bringing shame to your mother and me, you be allowed instead to leave the reservation, never to return.”
“We’re being…shunned?” Anna’s words came out choked with disbelief.
The proud, noble elder silently nodded as he uncrossed his arms then turned his back to them and walked from the room.
“I’d rather go to trial, Papa,” she cried after him, but she knew it was too late. Once her father made a decision, it was final.
Anna crumpled to the bear rug at her feet, sobbing, and Achak bent down on one knee to try in vain to comfort her.
CHAPTER 4
ELIZA CAME HOME from her waitress job sweaty and exhausted that night to their cramped first floor tenement building just outside downtown Phoenix.
Randy’s Tex-Mex Diner had been crowded all day, offering air-conditioned refuge from the hundred-degree heat that plagued Phoenix for several days that October. Many customers had lingered for hours over a cup of coffee or soda, not even leaving her a tip.
She quietly unlocked the apartment door and stood a minute until her eyes adjusted from the hallway lights to their dimly lit living room.
Alex lay sprawled, shirtless and sleeping, on the couch, his brown skin glistening with perspiration, wearing only a pair of jogging shorts. Eliza noticed two empty beer bottles and a McDonald’s burger carton on the end table. I feel bad I never cook for him, she thought dismally, hearing the clanking whir of the air condition unit in the window coming to life. He looks so skinny.
But after working day after day at the diner, she couldn’t bring herself to even look at food when she got home. Most of the time he grabbed some cheap fast food or made himself a peanut butter and jelly or tuna sandwich for dinner since he always got off a few hours earlier than she did.
Eliza felt sorry for herself and even more sorry for him. Alex had gotten a job with a roofing company, showing up at six a.m. each morning to sling tar and lay down shingles in the scorching sun. Yet they were barely paying their bills, much less eating enough.
She quietly set her purse down on the worn armchair next to the couch and went to take a shower in their joint bathroom. The blast of cold water gave her hot skin a little relief. But it did little to cool her anger over the lack of money she had made for all of her hard work the past fourteen hours delivering plates of greasy tacos, hauling dirty dishes caked with dried-up crusty refried beans, and waiting on even greasier, crustier truck drivers who sometimes tried to grab a quick feel when she wasn’t looking.
She towel-dried her hair, put on an oversized tee-shirt and denim shorts, and lay across her bed. She was almost asleep when she was startled by the sound of her name.
“Acha…Alex!” Eliza often had to correct herself, still getting used to their new names. She sat up, blinking, her bedroom light still on. “You scared me.”
Both of them were ordered by the Council to change their given names when they were banned from their homeland a month earlier, although to Eliza it already seemed a lifetime ago. Alex Trellis and Eliza Smith had set off together to face
