by Karen Kay
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 ar
tifacts were still intact and well wrapped. She shut the drawer.
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 treaded 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?
