by K C West
One of the students said something funny and everyone laughed. Kim was still smiling when her head turned in my direction. Her expression of pleasure and contentment quickly faded. Was that surprise or dismay that replaced it? She wiped her hands on her cargo pants and closed the distance between us.
This is what you wanted, Curtis. You begged to be here working for this woman, learning what she can teach you. Take a deep breath and try not to blow it this time.
Feeling someone’s eyes on me, I turned to see PJ standing at the end of the trail that led to the road. She had arrived with Sandy, Mike, and Donny. The fellows were loaded down with gear, but I noticed that PJ, too, carried her fair share.
I walked toward them, sure in my mind that PJ had discussed our misunderstanding with Sandy and wondering what kind of a reception I would receive from them. “Thanks guys,” I said to the fellows, eyeing Sandy for any expression of displeasure. There was none. “You know where to stash the stuff.”
When they left, I turned to PJ. The morning sun glinted in her hair and her green eyes bore into mine as if searching my soul for goodness knows what. “I’m sorry about last evening … for assuming something that I shouldn’t have.” I drew a line in the dirt with the toe of my boot.
“Apology accepted. And by the way, I’m pleased to report that the minivan is running just fine.” Her grin fell neatly into the category of one-upmanship. “It’s just what we needed for hauling this stuff from town to the trailhead.”
“I appreciate your helping Sandy with the van. It’s going to save us a lot of trips back and forth.” I took a deep breath. “You know, it isn’t often I make such a complete ass of myself.”
“Well, the jury’s still out on that, but now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get to work.”
“Of course, allow me to show you around.” I relieved her of one of her bundles. “We’ll begin over there, at the tent.”
While strolling with PJ toward the tent, I was aware of the admiring glances of my male students. I knew what they were seeing in this young woman and hoped it wouldn’t disrupt their focus. If she continued to dress conservatively as she had this morning, in cargo pants and a denim shirt, there was nothing to be said. She was, after all, to be my assistant so it would be up to her to keep things under control. I hoped I would not be forced to intervene.
“Looks like you’re all set up,” PJ said, looking around the interior of the tent and seeing the laptop, maps and charts on the table, and the haphazard pile of books on the floor in one corner.
PJ was about to sit on the edge of the cot when a low growl startled her. Pup emerged from beneath the cot, still growling.
“Is that what I think it is?” PJ asked, backing toward the open flap.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Meet Pup. He’s half wolf and half German Shepherd.”
“He looks all wolf to me, and mean.”
I knelt beside Pup. “It’s okay, boy.” I turned to PJ. “He’s protective of me, but once he gets to know you….”
“I don’t believe I want to get to know him.”
“We’ll take care of that right now. Stand very still because I’m going to have him check you out.” I whispered a command and Pup slowly approached PJ who was standing so still she could have been mistaken for a granite statue. Pup sniffed her hands, which were hanging loosely at her sides. “Stay very still,” I said quietly, not wanting PJ to make any sudden moves.
“I am,” she responded between clenched teeth.
“Okay, Pup, what do you think? Is she okay … shall we let her stay?” He let out a low-throated growl and licked her hand. I thought PJ was going to faint so I went to her side. “He’s comfortable with you now.”
PJ’s voice was shaking. “Well, that makes one of us. You know, I’m used to terriers and cocker spaniels.” She tried to smile. “He’s so big … and that growl is enough to stop one’s heart in mid-beat.”
“I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”
“Yeah, well …” She eyed the cot. “You stay here?”
“Occasionally. I have a motor home parked in Apache Junction that doubles as my home, at least for now, as well as my headquarters for this project.”
“I see.”
“Come, I’ll show you around the project and introduce you to the rest of the crew.” We walked over the rocky ground to the mouth of a small canyon where most of the activity was taking place. Pup followed close on my heels.
“It’s pretty up here.”
I stopped to look around. “It’s not pretty, it’s beautiful.”
“Sorry.”
“Beautiful, but deadly. There are creatures here that can give you all sorts of unpleasant problems, desert rattlers, scorpions, and spiders, especially the Desert Recluse. It’s a close relative of the Brown Recluse and the only spider in the States that’s really dangerous to humans. The venom can reactivate months after the initial bite causing the victim all kinds of distress, even amputation of the infected area. A bite from that little fellow is not a pleasant experience.”
“How do I recognize this delightful creature?”
“Let’s see, they’re brownish, about a centimeter long, and have six eyes.”
“You’re dreaming if you think I’m going to hang around counting spider eyeballs.”
I chuckled. “The easiest way to identify them is by the violin shaped patch on their heads and mid sections.”
“Is that right? Well, I’m not checking for musical instruments with legs either. If I hear of one within a half mile, I’ll be gone until it’s gone.”
“Most importantly though, watch out for dehydration.” I tapped the water bottle hanging on my belt. “You need to drink lots of water, even if you aren’t thirsty.”
“Are you trying to scare me off?”
“Not at all. I’m just telling you what you need to know to be safe up here. Don’t let the beauty of the place lull you into a false sense of security.” I was feeling better about PJ’s presence.
She might not be as difficult to get along with as I had thought, in fact, she was even exhibiting a sense of humor.
Now, if I could do the same…
We walked through a damp area left by an overnight shower and not yet dried by the sun. “I’m glad you didn’t wear shorts.” My remark was casual and without thought.
“Afraid it would distract the guys?”
I bit my tongue. “I suggest you do not wear shorts because of these,” I pointed to a small Teddy Bear Cholla. When I put my leg close to the spiny cactus and drew it away, my pant leg was covered with tiny needle-like barbs. “They call these things Jumping Cholla. I seriously doubt you want them in your bare leg.”
“Sorry. I was being a smart ass, as usual.”
“I’ll let it go this time.” I pulled a narrow toothed comb from my pocket, the kind with a handle, and ran it downward and flat against my pant leg, ridding myself of the Cholla spines without getting them in my fingers.
“Hey, neat trick.”
“It works.”
PJ, peering at the Cholla, was careful to leave plenty of space between it and her. “How far do these things jump?”
“They don’t really jump. It just seems like they do. As long as you wear long pants, hiking boots, and carry a comb in your pocket, you’ll be okay.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“You’re welcome. I like to keep my people healthy.”
“Hey, I’m sorry I misunderstood … about the shorts.”
“Apology accepted.”
“One for one.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Nothing.”
We arrived at the grid, a ten by twenty foot area where the crew was working. They were grouped together and talking excitedly over what appeared to be a small blackened, twisted piece of wood. “Take a look, PJ, and tell me what you think?”
PJ dropped to her knees to study the partially exposed artifact. “Who found it?” PJ asked, kneeling and leaning way o
ver to view it from a low angle.
“I did.” The young woman who had spoken moved to PJ’s side.
“You didn’t move it?”
“No ma’am. I know not to do that until it’s been photographed and catalogued. All I did was clean a little of the dirt away with this.” She picked up a small brush, the kind people use for cleaning the dust from automobile dash vents.
“What’s your name?”
“Laine, ma’am.”
PJ smiled. “Nice to meet you, Laine, but can you tell me what is it with you Arizonians that you call everyone ma’am? I’m Doctor Curtis, but you call me PJ, okay?”
“Yes ma…PJ.”
“And now, Doctor Blair, will you please introduce me to this merry band of dirt diggers?”
I laughed, delighted that the tension between us was evaporating. I made the introductions, “James, Lewis, Josie, Dewey. Laine, you just met, and you already know Sandy, Mike, and Donny.”
PJ grinned. “I don’t want to hear any of this doctor or ma’am crap from any of you, just PJ, if you please.”
“So, Doctor Curtis … um PJ, what do you think Laine has here?”
“We can’t be sure yet, of course, but I’d say it’s a piece of leather. It could be from an old sandal or from a carrying strap.” She was silent as she examined the artifact again without touching it. “It appears to be very old, but I’d need to run some tests.”
Lewis was already working on triangulation, pinpointing the find on the site with two thirty-meter measuring tapes and a plumb line. Josie was plotting it on a scale plan with the aid of a ruler and a drawing compass. Dewey was busy with the camera. “If we have no way of doing that, I’m sure we can approach the university,” PJ said, thinking out loud,” or Father can arrange for us to use some local government facilities.”
“The people at the university have been most helpful. I’m sure they will continue to be so.”
“That’s it then.” PJ rose to her feet.
“Let’s go back to the tent,” I said to PJ, “and I’ll bring you up to date on what we’re up against here.”
“I’d like that.”
“Would you care for a cup of Earl Grey?”
“I’d like that, too.”
I was silent as I put the water on to boil. It was obvious that PJ’s mind was still at the grid site and I didn’t want to interrupt her train of thought. I took a couple of tea bags from a battered metal container.
“You know,” PJ said, as I handed her a cup of tea, “that piece of leather, if that’s what it is, could be Hohokam, anywhere from nine hundred to twelve hundred AD, or it could be relatively modern.”
“Very likely.” I motioned PJ to sit. This time she took the chair, searching first for Pup’s whereabouts. He was curled up in the corner, his nose resting on the pile of books. He gave her a bored look. I sat cross-legged on the bunk. PJ, watching me from over the top of her cup, waited for me to speak.
“My work here is unusual in that we’re not looking for a civilization or even a scattered set of ruins.” I paused to sip. “What we are looking for is a needle in a haystack, a small band of women warriors who were on the move and as far as we know did not settle anywhere on a permanent or even semi permanent basis.”
PJ crossed her leg, ankle over knee. “What makes you so sure they were here?”
“Word of mouth … that’s all I’ve had to go on. Greece, of course, is a land of legend and myth. Stories I heard there led me to South America where I interviewed literally hundreds of native people from areas deep within the rain forests and along the Amazon River.” PJ sipped her tea absentmindedly as she hung on to my every word. “I interviewed old people from tribes barely infiltrated by outsiders and listened to stories that have survived generations of telling. Here too, local Indians have similar stories. What it all comes down to is that I’m working purely from legend and hearsay. Not exactly proof positive.”
“But you really believe there is something to these myths?”
“Yes, I firmly believe they’re based on actual events.” Pup came over and placed his paw on the edge of the bunk, his way of asking that I rub him behind the ears. He responded to my attention with growls of pleasure from deep within his throat.
“Okay, so what do we expect to find?” PJ asked, her eyes on Pup. She was still uncomfortable in his presence. He sensed it, I think, and ignored her. “A small band of people on the move wouldn’t have been carrying lots of stuff. They wouldn’t have left much of a trail.”
“That’s true.”
“And even if they had left any clue to their passing, evidence of it would have long since disappeared.”
I nodded. “If we find anything at all, it’ll be small stuff. Perhaps something like Laine unearthed this morning. We’ll find out.”
“Pottery?”
“We may find some, but it will more than likely be Hohokam.”
“You know, Doctor Blair, you’re crazy. You’ve staked your life and your reputation on next to nothing.”
I responded sharply. “If you feel this is a waste of your valuable time, then you don’t belong here.”
PJ stared me down, her eyes steely. “I didn’t say anything about it being a waste of time or that I wasn’t interested. I was just stating the facts of your life. You’ve spent how many years now, chasing shadows?”
“I was just giving you the option of pulling out…should you feel it’s a waste of your time.”
“Shadows intrigue me, so why don’t we just get on with it?”
I raised my cup. “To shadows, Doctor Curtis.”
“To shadows, Doctor Blair.”
I noticed that PJ had a lovely smile. I regretted that I had not given her much to smile about.
Chapter Five
Kim’s project is going to be difficult. Excavating a site is not as exciting as television and movies make it out to be. When I tell people I’m an archaeologist, they often think of Indiana Jones and mummies in tombs. It isn’t like that at all. As Kim said, we won’t find features like temples or buildings, or cultures where a large group of people would be living. She likened it to searching for a needle in a haystack and that is probably true.
From aerial views and ground surveys she planned to try a series of test holes and trenches along one canyon wall. We would search for evidence of a few single occupation sites, a small band of women, following the likeliest sources of water through the mountains.
The survey work had already been completed and several test holes and a trench had been exposed by the time I joined the group. The leather piece that Laine found had been the star attraction so far. The only other excitement I faced was avoiding sunburn, blisters, bites from snakes and spiders, and painful contact with cactus needles.
The daily work is tedious and dirty and the routine gets monotonous. Usually, I’m on my knees with a diamond shaped trowel scraping through dirt, strata by strata, trying to determine and document what happened in that section of the grid and why. For every artifact we find, there are hours and hours of screening, scraping and processing a whole lot of extraneous matter. I like to think of it as working with three-dimensional puzzles that need to be re-assembled. It’s the possibility of finding something worthwhile that gets everyone excited. Unfortunately, we weren’t finding anything useful.
My interaction with Kim was limited to early morning meetings and short reports at lunch and end of day. Her conversations were brief; her initial, light-hearted pleasantries fading as the search continued with nothing of consequence uncovered. Those infrequent smiles ceased altogether as her expression grew more somber. When students asked questions, they were likely to get one or two word responses. Morale was at an all-time low.
As the newcomer to the group, I knew it would take some time to fit in. To amuse myself during the days of boredom and tension, I visited with the crew, especially the guys. They were usually friendly and willing to chat about sports or cars, and joke about daily events. Carpooling with Sandy,
Mike and Donny helped us develop camaraderie. When they learned that I came from Boston, they made me the brunt of every Red Sox joke they could think of starting with the Bosox’s annual collapse during the pennant race.
Josie and Laine were friendly enough, but I noticed uneasiness whenever I worked with them. My instincts told me there was a bit of jealousy behind Josie’s occasional hard looks. She had shown an interest in Sandy, but he ignored her. Instead, he found my company more pleasurable. I was flattered with his infatuation, considering the difference in our ages. Sandy had been in the army before seeking a degree and was in his mid to late twenties, which was still young by my standards.
Kim frowned whenever she’d observe us together talking. “I just don’t want to see him get hurt,” she’d say.
“Relax, Doc, he’s a friend…. a sweet guy…. nothing more. I can handle it.”
Kim just shook her head and remained silent. Something was bothering her beyond the worksite, but she wasn’t about to tell me anything. There was a private side to Kim that I couldn’t penetrate. I could tell that she was losing sleep over some problem. I hoped she would tell me eventually if it concerned our excavation.
One Friday, after another week of fruitlessly sifting rock and sand, Mike, Sandy, and I decided to socialize a bit in Mesa before going home. We ate a meal at the local fast food restaurant. I managed to find a salad that was palatable. Then, Mike guided us to a place called The Oasis where we could kick back and relax with something stronger than soda.
“Grab a booth and I’ll get us a round of Rick’s Cactus Coolers,” Mike said, already bouncing to the jukebox’s pulsating country beat. Sandy and I shared one side and Mike slid into the seat across from us once he had placed our order. His dark hair fell over one eye in rakish fashion. When our drinks arrived, he pulled off his wire-rimmed glasses with a contented sigh. “Just what a tired dirt-digger needs to soothe his aching muscles.”
I had to laugh at that remark. Mike was thin and wiry; if he had muscles they were lean and well hidden. Despite a wispy mustache, he still looked like a teenager. I carded him before we left the van to make sure he was old enough to drink with us. Still, it lifted my sagging spirits to be in the company of two good-looking fellas.
