and round, closer and closer to the churning, water-swollen ditch. Frantically, she stomped at the brakes, only to spin faster, until the world blurred into an image of Johnny Whitehorse glaring at her icily from beneath the brim of his hat.
Her eyes flew open and fixed on the television screen.
Dolores Rainwater, one of the news anchors, spoke to her audience with the slightest touch of amusement in her voice as a replay of the previous night's news was displayed behind her.
Johnny Whitehorse stood on the capitol steps, surrounded by angry Native Americans, all carrying signs and banners. They chanted in unison, "We want our money back!" to a nonplussed bureaucrat who stood toe to toe with Johnny, as rigorously righteous as the picketers were furious.
"Fed up of waiting for reform, the Native American Rights Fund, spearheaded by Johnny Whitehorse, has filed the largest class-action lawsuit in history against the federal government on behalf of three hundred thousand Indians who have accounts held in trust by the bureau. As we reported some weeks ago, thousands of American Indians have asserted that their money is being mismanaged, even lost, by a Bureau of Indian Affairs trust system that never had an accounts receivable list or a complete audit and has not worked properly since Andrew Jackson was president. The lawsuit seeks a court order directing that the bureau's so-called Individual Indian Money trust account system be fixed. Restitution to those who claimed their savings have mysteriously disappeared could run into the billions of dollars.
"The problems of the New Mexico tribes are as diversified as the state itself. Just last week Mr. Whitehorse again confronted Senator Carl Foster regarding the Senator's role in the bankruptcy of the Apache Casino and Resort development. Whitehorse contends that there is more behind the reversal of the senator's stand against reservation gambling compacts than his sudden desire to accommodate the New Mexico tribes, going so far as to insinuate publicly that there might be more to the senator's relationship with Formation Media, the financier of the casino development, than meets the eye. Senator Foster called Whitehorse's statement a ridiculous accusation bordering on slander, and that Mr. Whitehorse's comments are attributable to his desire to run for Senator Foster's seat in the next election. When we asked Mr. Whitehorse for his response to Senator Foster's remark, he replied: 'No comment.' This is Dolores Rainwater for Channel 10 News."
TWO
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Johnny Whitehorse always slept with his sunglasses on. They blocked the morning sun from his eyes, extending the night a few more precious hours. He liked the dark, the moon, the stars. The blackness brought serenity and soothed the rawness in his chest. The blackness felt cool. It seeped through his pores and put out the fires of his discontent.
He enjoyed sitting atop White Tail Peak at midnight and watching meteorites streak across the endless sky. The Apache believed that each flash of light depicted a new soul in the spirit world. Occasionally, if he listened hard, he could detect the sound of his ancestors singing, their chants whipping through the wind-twisted cedars that clung with exposed, gnarled roots to the sides of the mountain. Sometimes he would even chant with them.
He'd gone to White Tail the previous night despite the lousy weather, hoping to assuage the frustration of that day's meeting with the deputy solicitor for the Bureau of Indian Affairs. He'd been returning home when happening upon the unfortunate accident with his mare and Leah Foster. Leah Starr. Dr. Leah Starr, D.V.M. She would always be Leah Foster to him. The boss's daughter, voted most beautiful at Ruidoso High. Who graduated first in her class. Untouchable. Too good for the likes of an Apache horse trainer's son. Or so Senator Foster had thought. Leah, for a while anyway, had thought differently.
Lying on his back in bed, Johnny stared at the ceiling.
There was great irony in the fact that he now owned what once had been Leah's home. He'd paid a cool two point five million cash for the house and eight hundred acres. At the time, Senator Foster had had no idea who was purchasing his farm, and probably would not have cared, not as long as he walked away with enough funds to help finance his reelection to the senate. But he had cared when learning the purchaser was Johnny Whitehorse—the one man who had every intention of making certain Foster would not be reelected in the upcoming senatorial race. Who had every intention of proving