Sky Sawpole quickly ducked down from the Kiowa Tribe Chairman’s office window. He had unintentionally caught his older sister Mud’s eye as she stepped into the obviously ransacked office. This was not good, not good at all!

His cell phone vibrated. Mud was calling! Sky froze for a beat—torn between answering with pleas for help or manning up. He set his jaw and shoved the phone into his back pocket. Not sure why Mud was here, now. She’d escaped to Silicon Valley ten years earlier and never looked back or so it had seemed from his then eleven-year-old’s perspective.

The rough stucco wall poked through his t-shirt. Sky shifted and thought of the OU classes he had missed today, actually he’d skipped the whole semester. Mud didn’t need to know he wasn’t where he was supposed to be—nor that he was in trouble, big trouble.

Sky duckwalked from beneath the window to the dark parking lot behind the Kiowa Complex’ offices. He stepped softly across the graveled lot, squatting in the shadow of a parked truck. He’d come for answers, but there were none in that office.

Staying in the shadows, Sky moved toward the 1940’s-era Quonset hut which sat at the highest point on the Kiowa Nation Compound. Usually a hive of activity, the Maintenance Hut emptied at five sharp every weekday except for Tribal cops coming and going through the night. Their patterns were easy to figure out and easier to avoid.

Sky laughed thinking of his years of experience dodging the Tribal Police. His laugh choked off—usually Tohne was at his side. Thoughts of his twin brother chilled him to the bone. He couldn’t sense Tohne. Where there had been a constant hum in his soul, now there was nothing. Sky shivered. Maybe our scheme wasn’t such a good idea. On paper it made sense and money. So much money! We’d be miles ahead of our graduating class.

On paper it was a good plan!

Until the threats, accidents and now, Tohne’s silence. Sky slipped into the shadow cast from the large maintenance hut, got low and settled in. From up here, he could watch without being spotted. And he did not want to be seen, couldn’t be seen.

Strange things had been happening at the Kiowa Tribe Compound all through the day and now, the night. Earlier, Sky had spotted a tall guy slinking around the Maintenance Hut’s office after hours. The guy avoided the Tribal cops as much as he had. Now, Mud and our cousin Denny were in the middle of the Tribe Chief’s obviously searched office.

Lost in thought, an engine’s whine alerted Sky. He knew that sound, the cry of Denny’s old Rambler pickup. Sky’s first thought was, “Good, they’re leaving.” Then he heard another engine come to life. This one shined no lights, but eased out several lengths behind Denny’s truck following as Denny and Mud drove away from the Compound.

Sky forgot stealth. He ran to his Indian truck—frankensteined together from several other vehicles. The door squealed in protest matching Sky’s silent cry of anguish. Was that truck following Mud because of the trouble he’d stirred up?

Sky’s engine backfired in protest, the doors rattled and the wheels squealed as the truck leapt forward to follow Denny’s fading taillights. Sky choked back a sob. What had he and Tohne gotten into?

This was a mess, a big muddy mess of a day.

Silent Are The Dead, A Mud Sawpole Mystery, Book 2
Genre: Traditional Mystery
Release: November 2024
Format: Print, Digital, Audio
Purchase Link

A Kiowa woman faces new threats to her tribe and identity while struggling to keep her Silicon Valley business afloat. She must search deep within herself to find answers—and a murderer—in Mary Higgins Clark Award finalist D. M. Rowell’s thrilling sequel, perfect for fans of Winter Counts.

While back on tribal land, Mud Sawpole uncovers an illegal fracking operation underway that threatens the Kiowas’ ancestral homeland. But there’s an even greater threat: a local businessman involved in artifact thefts is murdered, and a respected tribe elder faces accusation of the crime. After being roped in by her cousin, Denny, they begin to investigate the death while also pursuing evidence to permanently stop frackers from destroying Kiowa land, water, and livelihoods.

When answers evade her, Mud heeds her grandfather’s and great-aunt’s words of wisdom and embraces Kiowa tribal customs to find the answers that she seeks. But her ceremonial sweat leads to a vision with answers wrapped in more questions.

Mud and Denny race against the clock to uncover the real killer and must face the knowledge that there may be a traitor—and a murderer—in their midst. It’s already too late for one victim—and Mud may be next.

Meet the author
D. M. Rowell (Koyh Mi O Boy Dah) is an enrolled member of the Kiowa Tribe. Rowell comes from a long line of Kiowa storytellers within a Plains Indian culture that treasures oral traditions. After a thirty-two-year career spinning stories for Silicon Valley start-ups and corporations, with a few escapes creating award-winning independent documentaries, Rowell started a new chapter, writing the Mud Sawpole mysteries featuring a Silicon Valley professional Kiowa woman solving thefts and murders in Kiowa country. First in the series, NEVER NAME THE DEAD was a 2023 Finalist for the Simon & Schuster Mary Higgins Clark Award and recently released, SILENT ARE THE DEAD is receiving high praise. Connect with D.M. at her website, dmrowell.com and on Facebook.