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    A Way To The Manger
    A Way To The Manger
    A Way To The Manger
    Ebook107 pages2 hours

    A Way To The Manger

    By Susan Slater

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    About this ebook

    A week before Christmas Charlene Toya, local teen basketball star, goes missing on the way to her Tewa pueblo home. Native American psychologist Ben Pecos offers to help the family and begins to piece together some disturbing facts—Charlene’s dark and painful secret has likely put her on a collision course with some very nasty bad guys. As the people of the pueblo prepare for the holidays, a cloud of sadness hangs over all. Tension mounts as Ben and the police try to find Charlene before the unthinkable happens. Surprisingly, 96-year-old Lorenzo Loretto provides the most important clues in this heartwarming Christmas novella, rich with New Mexico ambiance and tradition.

    “Susan Slater captures our New Mexico pueblo Indian traditions perfectly—you’ll love this beautiful Christmas story!” –Connie Shelton, USA Today bestselling author

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherColumbine Publishing Group, LLC
    Release dateNov 21, 2017
    ISBN9781945422362
    A Way To The Manger
    Author

    Susan Slater

    Kansas native Susan Slater lived in New Mexico for thirty-nine years and uses this enchanting Southwest setting for most of her mystery novels. Her Ben Pecos series reflects her extensive knowledge of the area and Native American tribal ways. As an educator, she directed the Six Sandoval Teacher Education Program for the All Indian Pueblo Council through the University of New Mexico. She taught creative writing for UNM and the University of Phoenix.The first in this highly acclaimed series, The Pumpkin Seed Massacre, reached Germany’s bestseller list shortly after its initial publication as a German translation. Original print versions of the first three titles were outstandingly reviewed in nationwide major media.In July, 2009, Susan made her first foray into women’s fiction with 0 to 60, a zany, all too true-to-life story of a woman dumped, and the book was immediately optioned by Hollywood.Late 2017 and 2018 brings a new era to Susan’s storytelling. Secret Staircase Books is releasing newly edited versions of her entire Ben Pecos series in paperback, and brings the series to a whole new set of readers for the first time in all e-book formats.Now residing in Florida with her menagerie of dogs and canaries, Susan writes full time and stays busy in community theatre and other volunteer projects. Contact her by email: susan@susansslater.com

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      Book preview

      A Way To The Manger - Susan Slater

      A WAY TO THE MANGER

      A Ben Pecos Christmas Mystery

      by Susan Slater

      ONE

      She banged the stall door shut, pushed the latch in place, then listened. No one had followed her. But she could only choke back the waves of nausea so long. The game was tied. She was expected back on the floor. Her team, Valley 26, Chama 26. She was the center—the star center, Coach Leonard would say. Well, wouldn’t everyone just think she was a star if they could see her now? She put her forehead against the cold tile wall and tried to block out the roar of the crowd. Valley must have scored. She pulled up her jersey and slipped the elastic waistband of her shorts down to rest on her hips—shorts from her freshman year that were now baggy but becoming increasingly uncomfortable. She unpinned a long strip of Ace bandage from around her stomach, working her hand down between skin and tan textured fabric—holding the confining material away from her body. She took a deep breath. How much longer could she hide what was happening?

      Christmas vacation started today. This was the last game before break. Maybe by the time they came back to school she wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

      Charlene, you in there? The door to the bathroom banged against the wall.

      She took another deep breath. Yeah, I was just a little dizzy.

      You fell pretty hard, but me and Chantelle got even. That bitch won’t trip you again.

      Charlene smiled. She had friends, good ones. But ones who wouldn’t understand what she was thinking of doing. She quickly tightened the bandage, slipped the safety pin in place and closed it. A pause, she exhaled. She pulled her shorts up and settled her jersey in place. Number twenty-one was ready to return to the hoop wars.

      Hey, you got the truck? Jeni had to yell to be heard, but dumped a stack of damp towels on the gym floor to make room for her on the bench.

      Yeah. Charlene sank down, elbows on knees, chin in her palms and watched Valley score the last ten points—pull away and keep their lead. Then it was over. A hundred excited fans swarmed the floor.

      Let’s get out of here. Jeni grabbed Charlene by the hand and ducked under the bleachers, heading for the back door. Where you parked?

      Outside the gate. They were both running now—beat the crowd or be thirty minutes caught in traffic. The cold air took her breath away. She was glad she had stuffed a pair of jeans behind the truck’s seat. She now wore them unzipped, but with an oversize sweatshirt pulled almost to her knees, nobody guessed her secret. She hoped there was a sweatshirt somewhere among the fast-food wrappers on the floor of the truck. Thank goodness it was Friday night and she was staying over with Jeni; she could borrow what she needed. Stupid, but she’d forgotten her gym bag.

      I’m starved. Jeni was hopping along on one leg at a time pulling on sweatpants, then the hooded top.

      You’re always hungry. Charlene beeped the truck open and clambered behind the wheel. Would her brothers ever forgive her for buying a Toyota? Probably not. But the money had been hers, left to her by her grandfather. A truck to take her into Albuquerque for school next year and home on weekends. Only now, plans had changed. Would there even be college? Ever?

      Pizza? Jeni rolled down the window and leaned out.

      Huh? Charlene accelerated backward, then pulled forward and fell in line behind three other cars trying to beat the rush.

      Pizza. Do you want to go into Bernalillo?

      Sure. Why not?

      Charlene, quick, there he is. Oh, he’s sooo cute.

      Jeni. Not now.

      He’s looking this way.

      Charlene floored the accelerator and spun out around the other cars in the loose gravel before her tires bit into the pavement that led uphill to the highway.

      What’s wrong with you? He could have gone with us.

      Jason Arnold doesn’t want to go with us anywhere.

      Hey, you’re the one who used to drool all over him.

      Well, that’s past tense. She cut the steering wheel and bounced the Tacoma onto the pavement.

      Be careful.

      Wear a seat belt.

      Why are you in such a bad mood?

      Sorry. I’m just hungry, too.

      She could feel Jeni eyeing her, but kept her own eyes on the road. Jason Arnold was already represented in the cab of the truck—only Jeni didn’t know it. For that matter, neither did Jason. She had been stupid. She wasn’t going to risk humiliation by telling him that their one night by the river last spring resulted in something that could only cause heartache. She felt the baby kick. In protest? Maybe it didn’t like being called heartache. Maybe it knew already that its mother hated it, didn’t want it, considered her life ruined because of it.

      Charlene. You just passed Pizza Hut. What is wrong with you?

      Sorry. Charlene slowed, made a U-turn and had barely rolled to a stop before Jeni jumped out to join a group of girls standing by the door.

      Come on. Jeni turned back to wave.

      You go on. I just remembered I need to pick up a prescription at Walgreens. I’ll meet you back here, unless I find something more interesting to do. She laughed. She and Jeni talked at length about how, as firm as their friendship was, a date could change all that in a heartbeat. One time they’d planned to go to the movies in Albuquerque, but Jason had asked her out. Jeni understood. There was no question but that the date came first. Charlene rolled up her window and couldn’t hear what Jeni yelled back. It sounded like Good luck. She must think that Charlene was meeting someone. Jeni was popular; she wouldn’t lack for rides home if Charlene was late. What she was about to do couldn’t be put off.

      The stretch of I-25 between Bernalillo and Albuquerque would take about fifteen minutes. She had the address of where she wanted to go on a slip of paper in her billfold, which was still in her gym bag, but she had it memorized. How many times had she stood in front of a pay phone at the edge of the Pueblo’s recreational center and couldn’t reach for the numbers, couldn’t lift the receiver? Why? Because she didn’t know what she would say.

      Almost eight months pregnant—or was it past eight months? She never could figure out stuff like trimesters. But she’d put a star around the date when it happened. What had been the first words out of his mouth when his body had finished the spasmodic bucking? Don’t tell. And then he had felt it necessary to say he wondered how many others she’d lured to the river, how many others she’d professed to love. Had she said that she loved him? She didn’t think so. But there in the dampness of the riverbank, her own coming-of-age trickling down her leg to mingle with the sand and moss, she knew before any end-of-the-month would come, her body had betrayed her.

      She’d lain motionless long after his hurried footsteps took him to the road and his car. She heard the engine turn over ... once ... twice... then roar to life. There was a squeal of tires and he was gone. Jason Arnold. Class president, son of the superintendent of schools, liar, cheat

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