At the Shiprock Chapter House.
After they came across the border to the patrol cars, there was more standing around while Nez talked on the radio, in the patrol car. The snipers were given the wave, mobilized, and headed off over the hill in wisps of dust. The little delegation was cleared to go up to Shiprock Chapter House for a quick review.
"What about our belongings?"
"They will be sorted out and brought to you in Window Rock. Your clothes will be cleaned and disinfected." Navajos took no chances, and by the looks of distaste, they didn't think that the Bilga'ana knew how to keep clean.
There was a little commotion, and of course a massive delay and banter when they had pulled Seth's license and called it in. Now, Locklear is a common enough name, but a real common Navajo name, so Seth had to answer about a billion questions about NOT being Navajo, thanks for the compliment, and phone calls placed off to ranch stations to know if anyone had heard of a Seth Locklear, and such, and came to naught, naturally. It was just a name, turns out. There WAS a Seth Locklear up by Teec Nos Pos. Not that guy, no.
Shiprock.
Just like prisoners, they all had to strip down and shower, a matron watching Judy, Yazzie watching the men. It was a half-hour mandatory shower, and they had to use Nix - a flea and tick dip - and a foul brown shampoo that smelled like fresh road tar.
Then, the doctor out of NNMC examined them - right out of the shower, no gowns or such, just buck-naked.
After that, they were declared "decontaminated." They waited for their clothes to go through the laundry. And waited.
Instead, they were offered second-hand clothes from the local church donation box. The officers were dressed in their street clothes. At the end of the parking lot, the two patrol cars sat nose-to-nose, stuffed with laundry, burning.
Captain Trips seems to have really gotten on the Navajos' nerves.
Window Rock.
While they waited, an older, greyhaired lady in Western dress came to meet with Judy, alone. Navajos – the more they respect you, the less they have to say. Tourist fools at the gift shops, they'll banter and patter and jaw about every damn thing someone asks. But this lady sat down across for Judy silently, looked at her. Looked especially at her golden amulet, and the white bear. After a few minutes of watching and contemplating Judy, she stood swiftly and noiselessly, and raised an eyebrow, as clear as a command that Judy should accompany her. She walked past the carpeted walls, Judy noiselessly following.
They spent an hour or two, off in the recesses of the Chapter House. When they came back, Judy was as grim and silent as customary for her. Her companion turned and walked off silently. She sat at a table next to her other travelers, looking at the wall silently. She had nothing to say.
The trip to Window Rock was called off. You might recall that Window Rock is the nation's capital for the Diné, "the people," as Navajos call themselves. Clearly, the leaders were having second thoughts about bringing the bilga'ana too close to home. So the guests waited, and waited, for a small contingent to drive up the hundred or so miles from Window Rock.
A shorty limo pulled up, flags on the corners – an official vehicle. Out stepped one man in a dark business suit, looking every bit the lawyer, and a few elders more traditionally dressed, who clearly outranked the man in the suit.
They entered, and were give a few minutes to settle in, while the guests lingered in the eastern foyer.
Edmond Tsipei gathered them all around a meeting room with a yellow wood table in the center, local rugs across the round walls. He was the Attorney-General of the Navajos. He had come with the elders to read the Indictment in the name of the people.