Chapter 4 #2
It was strange, really, that her father had entrusted the care of them to her and not to his best friend, John Owens.
It wasn’t that Effie didn’t like having the responsibility—in truth, it was a point of pride that her father trusted the valuables to her—it was simply that, outside of the two students who accompanied her, Effie was the youngest member of the team, and yet she was the one in charge of the entire affair.
Still at the mirror, Effie looked up and smiled at her reflection. How glad I am to be back in the Montana Territory. Alas, I was beginning to despair that I might never see this country’s beautiful mountains and wide-open spaces again.
The knock at the door was expected, and glancing up, she called out, “Come in.”
Lesley came into the room, modeling the bathing suit, turning this way and that.
“Oh, it’s wonderful.” Effie chuckled pleasantly. “Look at how it effectively covers you, yet it is evident you will have freedom when you swim. Have you tried it in the water yet?”
“No, I haven’t,” said Lesley. “But I am anxious to do so. Would you like to come swimming with me today?”
“I would love to, but you know that I can’t. I must hire a guide as soon as possible. I really do want to be prepared so that when your parents arrive, we will not be delayed because of me.”
Lesley made a face. “They wouldn’t mind. They are used to me delaying them.”
“Yes, I’m sure they are quite forgiving. But still, this is the first time I have been the director of a project, and I am anxious to prove myself. I only hope your father is not upset that it was I who was put in charge of it.”
Lesley looked as though she might say something serious, but the impression was quickly gone. “Far from it. You know how studious he and my mother are. They are simply happy to be coming back to this territory.”
“As am I,” said Effie.
Lesley tilted her head. “I guess I am too. But I had better go and change before Henry comes back from his breakfast. Heaven forbid I keep him waiting.” With another smile and a wave, she opened the door.
Effie waved as well. “Till later, then.”
Lesley disappeared in a rush of flannel swimming wear.
Effie closed the door. What she hadn’t told Lesley was that she, too, had brought a swimming costume with her.
But hers lay at the bottom of her trunk, unworn and unused, since she had not yet found the courage to wear it in private, let alone in a public place.
Nor did she presume to wear it here, since the world at large still considered such things scandalous.
And she of all people needed to keep up a professional appearance. But this was, after all, Montana. Would it really be such a risk?
She exhaled on a sigh. She had best be about her business.
The longer she delayed, the more costly the project. Goodness knew, she’d had enough problems funding this excavation. Indeed, if not for her father’s influence, she might still be seeking the means.
Her father’s name was well known in the field of archaeology, and that alone had helped her to raise the funds. Of course, John Owens and his wife had helped in their own way too, by lending Effie encouragement.
Therefore, it had been no strain when Effie had granted Mr. Owens his one request: to allow him and his wife to accompany her on the dig. Effie had already been intending to ask them both to be part of her crew, since John Owens’s experience would make him an ideal field supervisor.
Again, she worried over Mr. Owens’s possible resentment of her position, if only because, due to his age and background, he should have been the one to have it.
Frowning, Effie returned to the vanity, where she again checked the safety of the artifacts…an unnecessary precaution. There they were, still wrapped in their little knapsacks.
She really had to find a more secure spot for them. But where? If she carried a locked box in her possession, others might become suspicious. Especially when thus far she had tried to give the members of the project the impression that the artifacts were stored somewhere else—safe, hidden.
Of course they all knew she would have to carry the valuables with her once they were en route to the digging site. Even her students were aware of this.
After all, the main purpose of this expedition was to find the remaining two artifacts, place them with the two she carried and return them all to the Lost Clan.
Although exactly how she was to go about that, she didn’t know.
Her father had said it would be evident at the time. She only hoped that were true.
Mindlessly, she shut the drawer and picked up her brush, wiping it on her skirts to ensure its cleanliness before stroking it through the reddish waves of her hair. Gently, she patted each curl neatly into place.
At least she and her students, who were here to relocate the site of the dig, were to be in this dull mining town for a short while only—not more than a few weeks. By that time Mr. Owens and his wife should have caught up with them, and their party would be complete and on its way.
While in Virginia City, it would be her crew’s job—well, mostly hers—to enlist a guide who was trustworthy, since she and her party would be traveling over unknown and dangerous territory.
She must also ensure the project possessed the proper equipment, as well as a supply of rations that would carry them through the winter months, if need be.
There would also be trowels and shovels to buy, shears, brushes, knives, plus many journals for their various reports.
Placing the hairbrush back onto the vanity, Effie rose and stepped softly toward the lone window, which was at present pushed open. Dust-laden curtains were pulled back by a single tie, and they covered only one far corner of the window. Effie took a position opposite those drapes.
Gazing outward, her eyes were met by a fog that seemed to hang over everything, animate and inanimate. Its wetness threw a damper over the morning, as though the day itself were urging one to remain indoors.
Yet oddly, the scent in the air, the feel of the atmospheric moisture and the lethargy it might induce had the opposite effect on Effie. In truth, such conditions as these brought back remembrances of another place, another time.
It had been hazy that morning too. Strangely, those few hours seventeen years ago had left an undeniable impression on her.
Why?
Inadvertently, Effie reached up to her chest, her fingers seeking out the warm, gold chain that lay nestled between her breasts.
Taking hold of it, she drew it out, away from her clothes and her body, her gaze fastening on to the two perfectly rounded white shells that were strung there.
Those shells had once been earrings, had once been owned by someone whose memory, to this very day, was precious.
Briefly, she allowed herself to speculate on the boy who had given the trinket to her, a boy who would now be a man.
A sense of nostalgia washed over her. Why? Why did she recall those moments with such a feeling of longing? It wasn’t as if she had known the lad well. That one day was all they’d ever spent together; she had never seen him again.
Still, the two of them had connected on a personal level, one that felt magical, mystical, more spiritual than physical. As the years had gone by, she had even imagined herself in love with the lad, had spent years weaving childish dreams around him.
Effie sighed. Sometimes she wondered if he might not be the reason she had never aspired to marry. Was she the sort of woman who, having once given her heart away, was of no use to another?
“Are you out there now?” she addressed the mist as though he were there in it. “And if you are, do you ever think of me?”
For a brief moment, a vision materialized before her, one of a future that had never been and would never be. Deep in thought, she drew her arms over her chest and hunched forward. What would her life be like if she and the boy had engaged in more contact with one another?
That he was American Indian, that their life together might have been difficult, would have held little sway over her. To Effie, such things were immaterial, especially when the heart was involved.
Effie blew out her breath in self-disgust. For all she knew, the man was married now, with three wives and ten children.
Briefly, her gaze turned outward again, and despite her own good sense, her spirits reached out toward the mist. Sometimes she wondered if they had both been enchanted that day.
Enough. She was no longer a child who could afford to engage in immature imaginings and dreams. There was work to be done, and the good Lord knew that if she didn’t do it, it would most likely go undone. Ah, yes, the morning awaited.
In terms of territory, a good many miles separated them. There was nothing to tie them together, not even a similarity in custom, culture or way of thinking. And yet, they each shared a common peculiarity: They both loved the dawn’s early gloom.
Instead of the mists of morning taking away one’s vigor, it acted as a catalyst, oftentimes bringing back to mind for each of them that one moment.
It is said that in all humanity, there is at least one single instant in a person’s life when all the world’s vectors converge to make a particular time, and everything about it, perfect.
And so it was for these two; their time together, seventeen years earlier, was such a one.
Thus, as Red Hawk trod toward the water, there to engage in his usual morning prayers, he greeted the haze as another might welcome the first rays of golden sunlight.
His spirits soared, and opening his arms, he began to sing in the new day, to give his thanks to the Above Ones and to A’pistotooki for the dawn.
“Haiya, haiya, a new day begins.
Haiya, haiya, though the daybreak is murky, my heart is light.
Haiya, haiya, will this be the day that I will learn your secret?
Haiya, haiya, have pity on me, Old Man, Napi.