"You may come to the portal of our land, by the Shell Mountain. Do not come further than the Shell Mountain - your life will be ended. You are not allowed onto our land by pain of death."
"We are sorry. That is the new law."
Judy felt deflated. The Navajo were enjoying the opportunity to flex, now that Captain Trips had cleared out the playground and there wasn't any wait for the fun stuff anymore. Okay. Now you get to be a nation, an intact tribe, nobody around to hassle you. 'Kay, got that.
"She-who-came-when-the-water-burst-again, that one must never approach our land. We cannot protect her, as she is fey. There are other enemies that will come for her. We cannot have more trouble come."
Judy really, really tried to look serious and attentive. She felt like a little kid in church, when momma said - "just one more hour, honey." Okay, they came to Farmington, check. The Navajos were in good shape and had the southern front pretty much locked down solid. Not a squirrel would wiggle between the Mogollon Plateau and the Big River, without the Navajo picking up on it.
The Dine' were always a little superstitious, a little spooky and watchful of evil - but you live in the wild where Plague Central sweeps down through the Four Corners every once in a while, you learn to be a little hyper-vigilant.
They were willing to share intelligence, and that was great, seeing that nobody in the Free Zone had the slightest idea about establishing outposts and listening points. Okay. Job done, trip over, the Navajos didn't mind having the home field advantage over the bilga'ana for a change. They moved the Front Door to Navajo Country up to Blanca Peak, let's all meet in Alamosa. That's only 200 miles down from Boulder, hop and a skip. Go down, pick up some carrots and taters, pass the news, and roll on back home.
But yet, more mystical hints about She-Who-Ain't-Welcome, okay, and how the Walkin' Man was just exactly what the Dine' were talking about when they said there were witches around, and they were probably right. 10-4, let's save it for the next roundup.
Projecting the inner serenity that comes out from dog-tired exhaustion, talks and gifts and farewells, and back to Farmington, where they hadn't even turned on the heat in the rooms. Everything was just hunky-dory, and they bedded down for the night; the evening and the morning brought the next day.
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