Shadow Man

By Dorothy Webb

A silent killer has taken the life of the beloved high school softball coach in the quiet Navajo community of Black Horse. Soon, Darcy Redbird's tribal sister, Susan Little Bull is arrested for the murder of her married boyfriend. If Darcy hadn't been run off the road by a Shadow man, she could have provided an alibi for her sister. In trying to prove Susan innocent, Darcy's investigation is hampered by the FBI insisting the killer has been arrested, her boyfriend and former policeman, Raymond Tsosie and continued appearances from the Shadow Man. Her perception of the Native spirits is tested and her life endangered as she discovers secrets and lies among the blowing dust and tumbleweeds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483581149

Dorothy Webb

Dorothy Ann (Mack) Webb is originally from Orangeburg, S.C. where she was raised and mostly educated. In May 1970 she graduated from Wilkinson High School in Orangeburg, S.C. She obtained a Bachelor of Science Degree in Mathematics at Claflin College in Orangeburg, S.C., a Master Degree in Theological Studies at Liberty University in Lynchburg, VA, and a Master of Divinity and Master in Christian Education Degree at Apex School of Theology in Durham, N.C.  She was a professor at Apex School of Theology, a Service Representative and Claims Representative with the Social Security Administration, and a Federal Agent with the Department of Defense. She married Dan Webb of Camp Hill Alabama and to their union was their daughter LaToya who gave them three wonderful grandsons, CJ, DJ, and EJ. She survived cancer, Congested Heart Failure, and pneumonia in 2005/2006, and pneumonia three times in 2015.  Her motto is “Your willingness to work hard determines the size of your success.” Writing has been a passion of hers since 1991 when she penned her first lines as a writer. She retired from the Federal Government in January 2009 and is currently pursuing her passion as a writer. She has written five short books consisting of almost 150 short stories and one novel. She has been writing for almost 30 years and is now ready for the world to read her work.

Book preview

Acknowledgements

The spring wind brought the promise of one more snowfall and buffeted the government-owned SUV that Darcy Redbird was driving like it was waging war. She wasn’t used to a vehicle this large and she gripped the wheel to keep from veering off the rough road. Tumbleweeds, the size of well-fed sheep, jumped out of the darkness to ram the side doors and bounce across the headlight’s beam.

The day began warm but spring weather on the Navajo Reservation was unpredictable. Before the sun went down, dark clouds had piled up on the sacred Hesperus Mountain, giving the promise of another storm.

Darcy wouldn’t have been returning home this late but the quarterly meeting in Shiprock with the other Bureau of Indian Education school administrators had run on true Indian time. So, even though it was three hours past her regular quitting time, she was only half-way back to her home in Black Horse.

Reaching into the grease-spotted paper bag beside her, Darcy fumbled for the few remaining fries when she heard three sharp raps on her side window. She did a double take when she saw a thin Navajo man with skin the color of chalk running along side her SUV.

Panic grasped her throat and she pressed the switch that locked all the doors.

Not wanting to see him again, she kept her eyes on the road. Is this a sick joke? Did I really see a man running beside me? she asked herself. Her speedometer read sixty. No one can run this fast.

Thinking what she saw could be a reflection from her dash lights, she dared a second glance.

He was there, with a face streaked with red and black lines and his wicked grin showed missing teeth. His yellow eyes glowed like those of an excited animal and he wore a necklace that appeared to be made of bones.

Human bones? Darcy thought. Is this a Skinwalker?

In her two years on the Navajo Reservation, Darcy had been told that these spirits with supernatural powers could put a curse on a person to make them very sick or even kill them. But how would I know? I’ve never seen one. She had grown up only believing what she could see and feel. So, who or what is this guy who seems to float on the wind?

The man tapped on her window again. When she glanced at him, he wagged his long tongue at her, like a member of the Kiss band.

She wondered why he was taunting her. She saw that his ribs stuck out like he hadn’t eaten in weeks and he wore only a ragged pair of jeans. And not even shoes!

Where’s my medicine bag? She reached in her purse and grabbed her gish, a gift from her boyfriend, Raymond. She looped the leather thong over her head and through the soft leather bag, she felt the herbs and green stone inside. Carved in the form of a lizard, known for its ability to save itself by leaving its tail behind, it is the strong symbol for protection. He had told her to keep it with her because she attracted danger. Bringing the bag to her lips, she asked the stone to make this apparition disappear.

Another quick look told her the fetish didn’t have any power over this man as he was still there, smiling at her.

Darcy concentrated on the road and tried to convince herself after that long meeting, she was so tired she was seeing things. She increased her speed to seventy even though she wasn’t comfortable driving the government-owned vehicle that fast on rough road and in the wind. She swerved to miss a deep pothole but a front tire caught the edge and she had to struggle to keep control. I don’t dare go any faster.

The man easily kept pace with her while beating on her front fender like it was a drum. He returned to her window and bowed his head as if accepting her thanks for his performance.

She was thinking that this man must be crazy when she saw a splash of headlights come over a hill. As the large pickup approached, she flashed her lights three times. Three is the signal for help, isn’t it? Like SOS? The driver flashed his lights three times back at her, like an answer to her greeting. When the shiny grill approached, Darcy leaned on her horn as it thundered past and the painted man disappeared into the darkness.

Good, he’s gone. The tension in her shoulders eased until he reappeared, wiping dust from his skinny arms, oddly-shaped with knobs on his elbows and wrists.

Oh my God! That pickup went right through him. Shaking her head, she assumed he probably just stepped back out of the way.

To prove he was still intact, he turned around and ran backwards.

Trying not to panic, she shouted, Leave me alone! He probably can’t hear me through the window. But I’m not about to lower it.

He responded by jumping onto her hood and grabbing her wipers. Pulling himself so his face was against the windshield, he waggled his head at her.

Get away from me! She leaned so she could see around him.

With a mischievous grin, he stayed within her line of sight.

Get off! I can’t see the road. She jerked the wheel from side to side to throw him off, weaving down the road like a drunk driver.

He held on. His grin said he was enjoying this carnival ride.

Afraid she would lose control, she straightened her wheels. He hopped off and began running by her window again.

Is he going to stay with me all the way back home? When she entered a steep dip, her headlights caught the side of a deep arroyo. She knew it snaked beside the opposite side of the road for several miles. Thinking she could force him into the arroyo, she swerved toward him.

He side-stepped her fender and his smile turned into a snarl. Lunging at her, he pushed against her window with both hands. His long skeletal fingers spread just inches from her face.

She jerked the wheel to get away from him. The quick change in direction tossed her purse and computer onto the floor. Over correcting, she found herself in the oncoming lane. Swerving back, she was relieved no one was coming. With another quick turn of the steering wheel, the man jumped off and she felt the back end of the SUV slide away. Forcing herself not to panic, she braked and fought the wheel to straighten the vehicle, but each swerve became wider and sharper. The tires left a zigzag pattern as they tried to grasp the scarred road. The back tires skidded off the pavement, turning the SUV sideways in the road. In the loose gravel, they gained traction and the SUV accelerated toward the arroyo.

No! The image of the SUV nosing into that deep drainage and bursting into flames flashed through her senses. She turned the wheel with all her strength. The vehicle rocked onto its two side wheels as it turned the opposite direction. When the wheels landed on the ground, the SUV lurched toward the other side of the road. Darcy hit the brakes hard. The front wheels bounced up as they ran over something big and the air bag exploded.

After a moment, Darcy caught her breath and she slowly opened her eyes. She realized the SUV was tilted forward and she wondered what she had hit. The air bag hitting her in the face gave her a headache that threatened to blow off the top of her head. The effort of pushing it off her lap made stomach bile come up and burn the back of her throat. To keep from throwing up, she took a deep breath and pressed her shaking hands to her face. The pressure gave her a new pain that felt like she had gone a couple rounds in a boxing ring. She tenderly explored her face with the tips of her fingers. Nothing felt broken but her nose was bleeding. Unhooking her seat belt, she found tissues in her pocket.

While she held them to her nose, she swivelled around to check out the windows to see if that man was still around. She didn’t see him or any lights from nearby hogans, nor did she hear anything. Not the howl of a coyote, hoot of an owl or the sound of any other nocturnal being. The moon had gone behind a cloud, darkening the desert like it was under a thick blanket.

He must be gone, she said, more of a hope than a thought. She leaned back in the seat and wondered who he was and how had he kept up with her. Still reluctant to think of him as a spirit, she searched her mind for a more logical explanation but there was none.

Needing the comfort of Raymond’s voice, she felt around the passenger seat for her cell phone. She finally found it on the floor where it had fallen out of her purse. No signal — a common occurrence on the rez. Dang! Glancing back at the road, she hoped someone would drive by soon. But she knew that wasn’t likely because that one pickup was the only vehicle she had seen since turning onto the reservation road. She cursed her meeting that had run late and wished for the company of Raymond or Susan Little Bull, her Lakota tribal sister.

Earlier, Darcy had let them know that she was running late. She and Susan had planned a quilting session for tonight and they postponed it to the following evening. As the only two members from their tribe in Black Horse, they became close and attended school activities and did crafts together and often had supper at each other’s houses. The only difference between them was that Darcy had been adopted by an Anglo family when she was an infant and Susan had been born and raised on the rez. When Susan’s mother visited, she said that they should be bonded and performed a sisterhood ceremony for them. Growing up with only a brother, Darcy had always wanted a sister and was pleased to finally have one.

When she called her sister, the excitement was palatable in Susan’s voice. She told Darcy that her married boyfriend, Martin Jennings, had just given her the most beautiful turquoise bracelet.

The low rumble of the engine reminded her to turn off the ignition. When she turned the key, a buzzer sounded, telling her the headlights were on. Buried in the dirt, they weren’t emitting any light, so she switched them off. The dash lights went off too, engulfing her in the desert’s darkness. She turned the lights back on. In the glove box, she found a flashlight but the batteries were dead. She clicked on the penlight attached to her key chain and turned off the lights again so they wouldn’t run down the battery.

Resigned to making do with a beam the diameter of a pencil that disappeared a few feet into the dark, she checked out the windows again. That painted man didn’t seem to be around so she cracked the door open. A strong gust wrenched it out of her grasp to throw it open, making the SUV rock like a giant teeter-totter. She waited until it steadied and then stepped out onto the earthen berm and winched as tiny missiles of wind-propelled sand peppered her bare skin. She grabbed her gray linen jacket from the back seat and slipped it on. The two-inch heels of her ankle boots sank into the soft dirt as she examined the state of her SUV. The cooling engine ticked. The grill was buried in the borrow ditch and the back wheels hung several feet off the ground. The frame had high-centered on the graded berm but didn’t appear to be bent. Thankfully, the tires remained inflated and no steam was coming out from under the hood. Digging out that berm would get the back wheels on the ground. Searching for a shovel, she shined her light in the compartment behind the back seat. She didn’t see one.

Movement of a figure in her peripheral vision startled her. She spun around and the beam caught the low branch of a salt bush. In the wind, it made scratching arcs in the sand. What she saw was taller, bigger. Who’s there? she called. No answer.

Not sure of what or who she saw made Darcy return to the safety of her SUV and lock the doors. Was that a spirit who ran me off the road? A real spirit? She shivered, not from the cold.

Because she had been raised in the white man’s world and only believing in what she could touch or see, she couldn’t bring herself to believe in these supernatural beings. But her Native grandmother had told her not to forget who she was. To find her Native American identity, she had to believe in the spirits to completely understand Native identity. Would seeing this painted man change that?

Darcy listened to the dry rhythm of the wind gusts pushing against the SUV. They reminded her of the Chicago winds of her childhood but lacked the freezing mist. The rocking soon lulled her to sleep.

Tapping on her window jarred her awake, gripped by the thought he was back. Impulsively, she grabbed her flashlight. Her beam found the broad smiling face of her friend, J. B. Nance. This solidly-built man stood a few inches over six feet tall and was in his late forties.

Hey! His bass voice was muffled by the closed window. He made a rolling motion with his finger, asking her to open it.

Darcy started the engine so she could lowered it and reached through to shake his warm hand. I’m so glad to see you. She was also glad the strong wind had subsided to a brisk breeze.

It’s so dark, I didn’t see your truck until I almost passed it. He opened her door and helped her out.

Thank you so much for stopping.

Us northern Indians have to help each other out. J. B. belonged to the Chippewa-Ottawa tribe in Michigan. He was the property clerk in Black Horse and his wife, a Pueblo Indian, taught at the school where Darcy worked.

You okay? He gently squeezed her shoulder.

I think so. She placed her hand on her cheek. It’s just my face. It’s sore from being hit by the air bag.

That’s why those bags are there. Your injuries could’ve been worse. His headlights illuminated her SUV and he considered its tilted position. So, what happened?

This guy ran me off the road.

Really? He eased the door shut. Let’s have him arrested. Who was it?

Darcy gave a quick smile. I’m not sure.

What was he driving? I bet I know him.

He wasn’t driving anything. She told him about the incident. The memory of the hideous man made her shudder.

One of the Shadow People. J. B. gave a slow nod.

I’ve never heard of them. Who are they?

Spirits.

Darcy repeated, Spirits. I did see one.

J.B. continued, I’ve never seen one but I’ve been told they pace vehicles, especially on deserted rez roads like this one. I’ve never heard of them doing any harm. They’re more like practical jokers. J. B. slipped his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. We have them in Michigan too. They’re not evil like the Skinwalkers around here. They’re probably people who have died and haven’t crossed over to the Happy Hunting Grounds. In the meantime, they enjoy making your dogs bark, turning on your motion detector lights, and giving you that feeling that you’re being watched. They just keep you on your toes. Know what I mean?

So they aren’t always like demons? Darcy wrapped her arms around her rib cage for protection.

There are those out there. You just have to be careful.

This one really scared me. She turned toward the salt bush where she had seen movement earlier. He might still be out there.

Don’t worry. If he comes around, I’ll protect you. He draped his arm around her shoulder. Are you cold? I have a blanket in my truck.

Darcy nodded and shivered again. That wind is picking up.

J. B. retrieved a wool blanket from his pickup and draped it around her shoulders. I’ve heard that the Eskimos have twenty-five words for snow. Here, we have at least that many for wind.

You’re right. Darcy drew the blanket around her body. That Damn Wind and Will This Wind Ever Quit come to mind.’

Don’t forget, I Hate This Wind. J. B. knelt down and played the strong beam of his flashlight on the undercarriage. You did a really good job of getting stuck. He stood and brushed the dirt off the knees of his pants.

Thanks. But I didn’t do it on purpose.

He repositioned his cap, revealing a sprinkling of white strands in his black hair. Is this a four-by?

A what?

He gestured to the SUV. Does this have four-wheel-drive? Can you get traction in the front wheels?

I don’t remember seeing an indicator for it. She wasn’t sure how to use it if she did have it.

J. B. shined his light in the driver’s window, scanning the console. Doesn’t look like it. That’s the Bureau of Indian Education for you. They give you an off-road vehicle but won’t spend the extra bucks for the off-road accessories.

You’re right. Darcy told him about the flashlight with a dead battery and lack of a shovel. I’ll probably have to write a report on damaging government property.

Don’t worry about it. Nothing looks damaged. Besides, the accident wasn’t your fault. Most important is that you’re not hurt. Now, let’s get all four wheels on the ground.