Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
The mining settlement of Virginia City
Montana Territory
May 1867
Effie stared at her reflection in the broken mirror before allowing her gaze to alight on the starkness of the room behind her.
One single bed, one broken chair, one dirty, oval-shaped rug and nothing else to decorate the cheap hotel room, except the grime left by the last resident.
Dust, which looked to be months deep, covered everything, and the scent of mold was enough to cause even a strong heart to weep.
Was this shabby arrangement the best they could do? Sighing, Effie realized that it was.
“’Tis my least favorite element of a dig,” she told her reflection, wondering why it was that the beginning of an expedition must entail staying in cheap quarters and eating food not fit for a dog. She shook her head in resignation.
And yet you love the adventure, her reflection seemed to reach out to her and say.
“No, I don’t,” Effie muttered back to the mirror, then she grinned, becoming cognizant that she was talking to herself.
It was true, however. She did love adventure, and if pressed to admit it, she would have to say that she would rather be here than tied to some man who might force her to stay home, attending to his needs.
That kind of life would be a sort of slavery.
She’d always thought so. She drew in closer to the mirror, as though to study in more detail the light brown of her eyes, as well as her upturned nose.
All at once she sighed. It wasn’t as though she’d never felt the urge to marry and raise a family.
But at least the desire had been only occasional, thank her lucky stars.
Her mother and father might not agree with her outlook, however, for at the age of twenty-five she had missed her chance at marriage.
Philosophically Effie shrugged, since in her opinion, this was no great loss.
After all, her position as a teacher was a good one, and it was a trade that had always allowed her to work in the field of archaeology.
Besides, this excavation might be the most important one in her career.
After reaching into one of the drawers of the hotel room’s vanity, Effie extracted a knapsack and unfolded the leather to reveal two objects heavily wrapped in protective brown paper.
Out of habit, she glanced quickly around the room before unwrapping the two pieces of quartz, which were about four inches in height and two and one-half inches across.
Though recently polished, the artifacts were ancient.
Gently, she ran her fingers over the intricate gold moldings that were forever etched within the niche of the quartz.
The impressions were figurines, half bird, half human.
The first relic had been bequeathed to her father long ago by Trent Clark; the second her father had found quite by accident, having discovered the piece while digging for worms for fishing.
Exuberant over his find, Walter Rutledge would have planned more explorations long ago, but something unforeseen had happened.
The War Between the States had broken out, and Rutledge, as determined to join the fight as the next man, had spent his energy in the war.
Sadly, there had been no further expeditions since Walter Rutledge had sustained permanent injuries.
Effie breathed out deeply in resignation as she returned her attention to the pieces of ancient sculpture.
Both objects were light, probably weighing no more than two pounds each, but they were valuable.
Not in terms of the amount of gold to be found in them, but because they were ancient, rare and the effects of a legend.
In truth, if she’d had her way, she would have left them both back East, safely locked in a security box. But this wasn’t entirely her decision to make.
Her father and mother, though both were still situated back East, held sway over the particulars of this excavation.
It was her father who had determined that the artifacts were safer traveling with her than staying back East. That there had been two attempts to steal them had given him cause to believe this, and he had not relented in his viewpoint.
Knock, knock.
Effie jumped, so lost had she been in past reflections. “Who is it?”
“It’s Lesley,” said a voice on the other side of the door. “May I come in?”
“Yes, but allow me a moment, please.” Hastily, Effie rewrapped the figurines, placed them back into the knapsack and gently returned them to the vanity drawer. “All right, come in.”
The door opened, and in walked a woman who was probably the most beautiful person of Effie’s acquaintance.
As was common with Lesley, she looked as stylish as if she had stepped off a Godey’s fashion plate.
Her dress was a tomato-red silk tartan plaid with velvet trim, the skirt smartly flatter in front than in the back.
Her flaxen blonde hair was caught back in a snood, and, instead of a hat, she wore a ribbon on the crown of her head.
It was early morning, and Effie glanced down at herself in comparison, her own figure enwrapped in a green silk morning gown.
It was something she usually refrained from doing—contrasting herself with Lesley, since in Effie’s opinion it was a useless endeavor.
She simply didn’t measure up to Lesley’s standards.
However, even the best intentions can go astray, and Effie found herself focusing on the differences between the two of them. While Lesley’s eyes were a deep blue, Effie’s were light brown. Lesley was taller than she was, as well, and older, but only by a few years.
Both women were slender, but Lesley’s figure was on the voluptuous side, whereas Effie’s curves, while still hourglass, were smoother and more gradual.
The two women both loved archaeology and had deemed the field worthy of their endeavor.
They had grown up with parents who were not only fast friends, but also companions and colleagues.
By all rights, Effie and Lesley should be friends too.
But they weren’t.
Oh, they liked each other well enough, Effie supposed. But even as children, they had never taken much pleasure in each other’s company.
Effie considered herself the more serious student of archaeology.
While Lesley, in her opinion, tended to dabble—according to her interest, which fluctuated.
It wasn’t that Lesley didn’t have the knowledge of what to do or how to do it, it was that she lacked the discipline so necessary in this field.
Always something besides the matter at hand would catch her eye, and even marriage hadn’t seemed to tame the coquette in her behavior.
Effie sighed and cautioned herself against such negativity. Lesley was a friend. It wasn’t her fault any more than it was Effie’s that the two of them were simply not close.
“It’s a dull morning, I’m afraid,” said Lesley as she sat on the end of the bed.
“Is it?”
“Yes, quite dreary, actually. It’s foggy out again. How I would have loved to stay abed this morning. But you know how Henry is—this being his first expedition—and he has to be up and on the go long before even the birds awaken. Sometimes his enthusiasm dampens mine.”
Effie smiled.
“What are our plans for the day?” Without awaiting a reply, Lesley went on to ask, “And have you heard from my parents?”
“I have not heard from your parents, but I still expect them to join us in a few weeks’ time, and I’d like to have all our supplies settled and our guide hired so that when they do catch up with us, we will be ready to go.”
Lesley nodded. “Please, refresh my memory. The purpose of this dig is…”
“To uncover evidence that the legend of the Lost Clan is real, and if possible to find the missing artifacts, and if we do, to return them to the Clan.”
“Hell’s bells,” said Lesley, “it is a rather unusual dig, isn’t it?”
“In what way?”
Lesley slanted her a look. “Well, ever since I can remember, my parents have drilled into me the ethics of not keeping artifacts, but rather turning them over to a museum or some other similar institution. ‘We are not collectors,’ they would say to me. But really, we don’t intend to do that in this case, do we? ”
“You know that we don’t,” said Effie.
Lesley lifted her shoulders. “Then you must grasp what I mean about the unusual nature of this dig.”
“Yes…but you do remember that my father gave his word to Mr. Clark, don’t you? And—”
“Don’t get me wrong,” interrupted Lesley.
“I’m not disagreeing, I’m simply of the opinion that this dig is…
different. It’s more in the field of anthropology than archaeology, since we’re hoping to study a people not only by means of the things they left behind, but also by meeting them face-to-face… if that’s even possible.”
Effie shrugged. “I admit it doesn’t seem very plausible. Yet I am committed to continuing my father’s work—and your father’s too.”
Lesley sighed. “Yes, yes. It’s all rather dull, though, isn’t it? Oh, did you see the bathing suit I brought with me? It’s the very latest thing.”
Effie grinned pleasantly. “No more swimming in a blue gown for you, then?”
“Have you seen these new suits?”
“Yes, I believe I did notice them in a fashion magazine or two.”
“Oh, they are the sweetest things,” said Lesley. “Trousers, much like knickerbockers, and a blouse tunic with a belt. Mine is in blue flannel. Would you like to see it?”
“Of course.” Effie smiled. “But you should wear it so I can properly admire it.”
Lesley beamed. “Yes, yes, I agree. And that would be fun, wouldn’t it?” She rose to her feet. “I will return momentarily.” With this said, Lesley swept out of the room.
Effie returned her attention to the task at hand before the interruption, and stepping toward the vanity, she assured herself that the artifacts were still intact and well wrapped. She shut the drawer.