Blaine snatched me back just as the dude driving the huge Caterpillar dirt compactor finally stopped about two feet from my feet.

I hadn't moved a muscle as that damned machine roared up closer and closer to the little mound of dirt I was standing on. Because that little mound of dirt was what remained of the grave of one of the first of us to move west 'way back in slavery days.

There were lots of graves out there. Unmarked and undiscovered just beyond the fenced in cemetery we'd created after we'd found, marked or moved remains from a few.

And just as I snatched away from Blaine, two loud metallic clinks sent the Caterpillar dude leaping down off that machine yelling, "The fuck?!" as he ducked down behind it.

Blaine shoved me down to the ground and barked, "Who's shooting out here?"

Yoli, Hae Won and the truck driver Wally'd lent to us hit the ground along with the other two Cat drivers in the distance. Probably really sorry they'd asked for a tour of The Quarters before we left for Sedona that morning.

And when I tried to raise my head, Blaine shoved my head back down and said, "Are you nuts?"

"It's family! They'll stop if they see me!"

"Or shoot before they realize who they're shooting at," Wally's guy grunted.

Former military, that one. Wesley Interpreter. That's a Navajo surname his great-great grandfather was given for being exactly that for some of the white government people who first came out this way back in the Bosque Redondo days.

That's where they corralled up damned near every Navajo they could find and held them prisoner until the world found out what a shit show it was and shamed the government into ending that little experiment in terror. I knew this because there'd been two Interpreters in my elementary school that the kids teased unmercifully about their last name.

Anyway, this Wes was a very good-lookin' Interpreter indeed. Kind of fine-featured, with dark velvety skin and silky black hair that he was forever shaking back like a model in one of those shampoo commercials. Yeah, he knew he was fine as hell.

He was also brave enough to stand up before any of the rest of us did.

And not bat an eye when the Cat driver leapt up and bellowed, "Anybody gets shot out here, ya'll will be in a heap o' trouble, I'll tell you that!"

But I yelled back, "This is a cemetery!"

"Cemetery's behind that barbed wire," Cat driver said, nodding in that direction.

"Yeah, but there's bodies out here, too! Dug up remains from that mound I was standing on about two years ago. They just threw bodies out here like trash after they dropped dead out there in those cotton fields. Ones that didn't have any kin to claim them."

"You got a beef, take it to the fat cats runnin' the show," the driver grunted. "I'm just out here doin' a job."

"Just following orders," Yoli said from somewhere not too far behind me. Real snide voice. "Like a good little soldier."

"Hey! I was a soldier!"

"Where at?" Wes hissed.

Cat driver muttered, "Reserves, but..." Looking kinda sheepish.

"Iraq and Afghanistan," Wes one-upped. Chin up. The better to stare down that aquiline nose at him.

"Yeah, well, I'm not tryin'a get shot by some fool right here in the goddamned United States, son! So, y'all better--"

"Don't you 'y'all better' me," I barked. "There was supposed to be some kind of archaeological study done before--

"If you was Indians," he hissed. With his chin raised.

But he lowered that chin when a big old posse of Ameses came running up behind me.

Several of the men and women were carrying weapons. Long guns, shot guns, hunting guns and the odd ax and garden hoe.

Yoli laughed and started singing that Buffalo Soldiers reggae song—lots of Native people love them some reggae, still. Lots of famous bands used to practice for Sunsplash on Hopi every year before the real one down in Jamaica. Locals would give them room and board for about a week.

I laughed because the dudes driving those tractor things looked all terrified like they were witnessing the Zombie Apocalypse in real life.

Cat driver cried, "You better say somethin' to 'em!"

But my cousin King, who's about as wide as he is tall and was the tip of the wedge of men and women folk headed our way, hissed, "No, you better say somethin' to us! The fuck you think you're doin' out here?"

"I told you I'm just doin' the job I was sent to do! All this...archeology and cemetery stuff—"

"This is a historical site right here. So, there's rules about how close up to the property y'all can come."

"Marked on the maps they gave us, yeah!"

"Well, our maps are the official ones from when the feds designated this place historic. Those big rocks looks like y'all shoved around when you come rollin' all up in here, they marked the legal boundary line. Sheriff'll tell you when he gets here."

The drivers out away from us went into a little huddle when they heard "Sheriff." Cat driver smirked and sighed real hard.

So King just stood there with his piece slung over his shoulder, staring a hole through him until he finally turned to the others and did this halfhearted wave that got them back up on their tractors. He got back on his, too. Drove it over to the others.

"You really call the Sheriff?" I asked King.

"Jennie did. Was it you called her?"

"I didn't think to call. I just ran up on him when I saw how close he was. But I bet all the people on this side could hear them out here stompin' around."

"Are there really bodies buried here?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah, we found a few," King said. "There's a machine can locate 'em but it's expensive as hell to get that done."

Hae Won bristled. "Were they slaves?"

"Not...technically," I said. "I mean, they worked for a white family and all, but they were able to have little plots of land of their own eventually. And they weren't owned by any—what's that face about?"

She narrowed her eyes and said, "Why?"

"You gonna make one of those phone calls and buy it out from under them or something?"

"She can do that, you better let her," one of the aunts called out from somewhere in that wedge of bodies. "Cause when that driver calls his boss, his boss'll call the Sheriff and the Sheriff'll tell his boys to turn around and come right on back to the station."

"She's right," King said. "Ain't nobody been able to stop 'em so far. Even them Whitmans."

Hae Won gave a little "tsk" and was bossing someone around on her cell a few feet away like an angry CEO seconds later. I mean, just popping off in Korean like mad with her face all frowned up while my kin folk chuckled and shook their heads.

"So, who is she really?" Blaine asked me.

And I sighed and said, "I knew this would happen..."

"What would happen?"

"Blaine just...don't, okay?"

He really frowned. "What the hell?"

"She's just not one of those little...simpering sistahs you like to toy with."

The frown turned to a slightly...strange smile as he said, "Well, she asked me if I was coming with, by the way."

And while I was holding my breath, afraid to hear whatever he was going to say next, he gave me a deep smirk and asked, "You can relax, for Chrissake! It's all part of some elaborate master plan she's working on. To get you and that guy you're with back together or...whatever."

"The plot thickens," Yoli said. Shooting me a wink. Girl lives for drama...

But then King said, "She smilin'." Shading his eyes to watch Hae Won strut back toward us.

It was a Mona Lisa type of smile, but definitely a smile.

And she slid that cell back into her pocket and said, "We want to be in Sedona before dark, you said."

"Yeah, well, what'd you just do, though?" King asked. "Lookin' like the cat that ate that canary."

"The developers will find it difficult to borrow the money they need," she told us. "For quite some time, perhaps. Once we dig a little deeper into the deals they've made. There's always a smoking gun somewhere."

Blaine did a little eyebrow waggle and said, "Crazy rich Asians, huh?"

And Hae Won snapped, "I hate that damned movie—can we go, please?"

Blaine shuddered. King saluted and said, "Yes, ma'am!"

And the kin folk had a good guffaw as we started walking away from the befuddled Cat drivers standing out in the fields looking all pitiful and confused.

I was a little bit confused, too.

What was this other "master plan" she was working on?

And what on Earth did Blaine have to do with it?