Once Blake and Russel realized they were to stay at the shaman's house until morning, more less as guests but closer to some degree of captives, Dan the Navajo Ranger became more cordial to them. He showed them up to the second level of Jaspers house, and the spare bedroom where they would sleep. He then explained it was not unusual for people, friends and relatives, to stay there at the Sani's home. Especially during festival days, he explained, when the tribe held sacred events. He then offered to make a run back to town, where he would bring back a takeout dinner for them all.

"So, what's it going to be guys? Mexican or Chinese?" he asked.

The absurdity of the question caused them both to relax, even smile and thank Dan for his hospitality. Not long after he left, and while the two sat on their separate beds quietly considering their unusual circumstances, there came a knock on the heavy wooden door.

"Come in," Blake called out.

Entering the room and carrying fresh bedding and bath towels, was a teenaged girl, perhaps seventeen or eighteen. Like the young man at the gas station of about the same age, her complexion was dark, her features Native American. She was dressed in clothing not unlike the high school-aged girls back in California—tight jeans, athletic trainers, and a sweatshirt labeled HOLISTER. Her raven black hair was pulled back into a long ponytail and she shyly put the articles on the bed, avoiding eye contact with the two who were speechless from the moment she appeared.

"Hey, thanx," Russel finally said, a little uncertain he should even speak to her.

"No problem," she said quietly. "Let me show you the bathroom up here,"

The two got off their beds and followed her out of the room and down the narrow hallway. A small but essential bathroom was behind a narrow door.

"Sometimes the hot water is already gone in the mornings, depending who's up and how much they use," she said. "But out here the water for a shower is never that cold. Just during the winter months when it sometimes snows."

"Well, thanks for the heads-up," Blake told her, taking note of the turquoise-colored tiles in the shower and its state of cleanliness. The girl then turned unceremoniously and led them back down the hall toward their room.

"My grandfather wanted me to tell you we'll have dinner downstairs in about an hour," she said, still making no intimate contact with her lovely Asian-looking eyes.

"OK," the two said, practically in unison.

At that point the lithe girl left them, taking another passageway and disappearing with the sound of a door closing behind her.

Back in their room, Blake looked at the clean sheets and towels on their twin beds. Each low-framed mattress was covered neatly by a Navajo blanket. These were known all over the world for their intricate geometric patterns and excellent quality of dyed wool. There was one window in the room—too small for either of the two to escape through, and when Russel opened the wooden shutter and looked out, he commented on the intensely bright night sky and contrasting dark expanse of desert.

"This is definitely a different world out here." he said, with both amazement and fear in his voice. At that moment Blake's cell phone buzzed in his pocket and as he fished it out to answer it, Russel fell back on his bed, condemned to listen to the one-sided conversation with growing aggravation.

"Hello, Steph? . . . Yeah. Well we're . . . kind of hung up out here at the moment."

Russel began to nod his head ironically, indicating both to himself and to a conversant Blake, that in reality, they might never leave.

"What?  No. No, everything's OK. It's just that . . . we'll be here another night I guess. Before getting back on the road. No Babe . . . no parties here!  I can assure you of that. No girls, No. I promise!"

Once again, Russel was enacting a pantomime of stabbing himself with a knife, this time fatally in the chest.

"Look, Steph. I've got this dinner meeting to go to soon . . . yeah, it's about my dad. So, I've got to go, OK? Alright then.  So . . . how have you girls been? . . . What? . . . Well tell them not to drink so much!  What did they expect from a bunch of horny college guys on Spring Break? Just keep an eye on each other. And don't drink mixed drinks in any of the bars! . . . Yeah, OK sweets . . . We will. Bye."

Russel put his hand over his eyes in total exasperation.

"Jesus, Blake, the whole world's having this insane party over on the coast . . . and we're here in the Indian jail . . . We'll probably be found later . . . out in some cactus field with our throats cut!"

"Hey, chill out, man! It's gonna be alright. I'm just gonna let this Jasper have all that stuff in the morning . . . after we've checked it out a little more. And then we're outa here, pal."

"Yeah right. And then we drive over a military land mine which just happened to be on the lonely highway going home. The evening news will say . . . it was just an accident.  Seriously Blake. How did we get into this shit?"

"Relax, Russel."

"You really gonna give it  . . . all to him?"

"Sure. It's their stuff. Their ancient people created it. God knows what was going on back then. My father was just collecting it for some crazy reason."

"Don't you see why, Blake? Come on!  He was probably going to break the story someday. Prove what the military's been hiding from us all these years. That whole Roswell thing!"

There was a sudden knock on the door again. This time it was Dan.

"Hey guys," he said entering the room cheerfully. "Got the dinner down stairs for us. Couple of barbecued chickens and potato salad . . . the best Kayneta has to offer."

"Thanks, Dan."

"You guys will be on your way soon. Jasper just needs to go see what you found, that's all. It's his duty, you know."

"I understand," Blake said. "The dinner sounds good. Come on Russ."

The two followed Dan down the stairs. Surprisingly, when they entered the main room of the dimly-lit house, a large table was set with six chairs, plates and various platers of food. There were salads, cooked vegetables, loaves of steaming bread and several ceramic containers featuring the roasted chickens which obviously Dan had provided.

Entering the room at the same time from the front door and greeted by the girl they had already encountered, was a tall young man about their own age. He nodded and smiled at everyone when coming in from the darkness. He wore a black motorcycle jacket, western-style cowboy boots, and sported a long, dark ponytail. He was obviously born and raised somewhere within the Native American territories. After giving him an embrace, Dan introduced the guest to the two as Michael, a shaman and historian from the Zuni tribe to the south.

At that moment, Jasper Sani entered the room accompanied by a middle-aged woman. She had graying hair and was dressed in a colorful robe-like dress with a knotted, multi-colored rope as a sash. She carried a pitcher of what appeared to be tea to the table. The stranger who had just entered walked up to her and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled, and she gave him a greeting in an indiscernible language.

"Hello," she said, turning to Blake and Russel, "I'm Valerie's mother, Milat. Did she bring you the bedding and towels upstairs?"

"Yes." Blake said, nervously."

The two looked over and could see the girl was now preoccupied with talking to Michael who seemed charmed by her attention.

"We are pleased you'll be joining us for dinner this evening," Milat pleasantly added, setting the pitcher on the table and reverently pulling out a chair for Jasper.

"You see, my father . . . Jasper Sani, and my daughter Val usually dine here alone with me. But tonight, we welcome you with Dan and Michael as our guests. She took out a box of matches and lit the six candles placed to the side of each of their plates.

"Come to the table, everyone," Milat announced.

For the two bewildered Californians, the evening was proving to be like all else they had experienced since descending into the southwestern desert and entering upon the Indians' land—highly unpredictable.

* * *