Second Sunrise

CHAPTER 1 State Policeman Lee Nez shifted into high gear as his shiny black Chevy department cruiser topped the hill preceding Mesa Montanosa thirty-five miles east of Fort Wingate. The army had an ordnance storage facility there, beside the railroad tracks, where bombs and shells were kept in rows of bunkers. As the war in Europe raged on, the enlistment of regular state police officers into the military had left many vacancies open and had given him the opportunity he'd dreamed ofan appointment as a state patrolman. Trained on the job, he was the first Navajo state policeman. Of course, it didn't hurt that his mother and father had connections in Albuquerque, where both taught at the Indian School. Lee knew that it was their association with the pueblo governors and politicians in Santa Fe that had made the difference. Now Lee was training a newly appointed officer, Patrolman Benito Mondragon. Benny was tall and thin, nearly six feet four, a full four inches taller than Lee. Benny, a full year younger than Lee, had a wife and young son and was quiet on the job except when asking a question about work, or occasionally bragging about his boy. From what Lee could tell so far, Benny's greatest asset was that he was a quick study. It was a cool March evening, and the ground was drying out from a late-winter snowstorm. The worn, rutted narrow asphalt highway was dangerous to drive over forty-five in many stretches now, especially the closer one got to Fort Wingate, which had its share of large army convoys. "Officer Nez?" Benny's voice was a bit high-pitched, and Lee had advised him to lower it by an octave whenever possible when speaking to the public so he'd sound older and more experienced. Lee glanced at the rookie. The cap with the shiny black bill was the same as his, but only served to make him appear even taller. His size and build were imposing, something that would serve the patrolman well when he was out on his own. "Do you think we're ever going to get the authority to stop drivers from going over the posted speed?" "That all depends on the governor and the state legislature. Right now, all we can do is report them to their local rationing board, which has the authority to keep them from getting any more gas ration cards." "But if the driver is related to the local head of the board, like that trading-post operator near Gallup, the whole thing falls apart," Officer Mondragon replied. "What I hate most is investigating cases like a local farmer who had his farm equipment's gasoline siphoned off. You go into it knowing what happened. The gas got stolen so a black-marketeer could sell it, say, in Albuquerque." "My cousin's neighbor discovered he can make more money selling gas than by planting corn or beans." The Chevy was running hot tonight. Lee could feel the heat coming through the thin fire wall. That always seemed to come with being low man on the totem polea phrase hisbilagaana(white) sergeant used to remind Lee why he usually got the worst-maintained equipment. He thought about the canvas water bag they carried on the front bumper. It provided radiator water almost as much as drinking water lately, and it wasn't even the hot time of year yet. "Always make sure your vehicle is in good shape and ready for emergencies before you go out onto the open road. In the winter, or during the rainy season where so many low spots are filled with water, it could mean your life," Lee said. Most state patrolmen were on their own, with backup maybe hours away. Telephones in the scattered communities blessed with phone service were their only method of communication. State polThurlo, David is the author of 'Second Sunrise', published 2002 under ISBN 9780765304414 and ISBN 0765304414.