by Karen Kay
Haiya, haiya. A’pistotooki, I know you cannot take sides.
Haiya, haiya, but, Creator, I must find my spirit protector though I am far from my home.
Haiya, haiya, A’pistotooki, I seek your guidance that I might find the sea dog.
Haiya, haiya, I am following my vision that I might help my people, and I have discovered that the one I love also needs help. She is the one you know as the water being, Effie.
Haiya, haiya, know, A’pistotooki, that I think both can be done without one harming the other.
Haiya, haiya, Creator A’pistotooki, have pity on me.
My needs are simple. Help me to help my people and the water being.
Haiya, haiya, haiya, my prayer is done.”
With this said, Red Hawk swallowed hard and plunged into the water. Nothing immediately happened. Heartened by this, he swam from one end of the lake to the other. Though he searched on and on, he found nothing but fish, and certainly not large fish.
His mood sank, and he began to think he would have to search for the sea dog in the north country, which did his cause of defending Effie little good. For, with his hands tied morally against battle with the Thunder Being, what use was he to anybody?
Disappointed, Red Hawk surfaced, noting that the sun had long since left the sky. Day was turning to evening. Shadows were already shooting across the water.
Setting his feet on the muddy bottom, Red Hawk walked to shore. So many shadows were there that he could not tell the real thing from a reflection. He saw it, there in the water, but turned his back on it.
“Otahkohsoa’ tsis!”
Red Hawk spun around. Something had called his name.
Then he saw it. It was black, long and slimy.
A sea dog. Surely, not the same sea dog he had once confronted in a time long past. Indeed, this looked to be more snake than fish.
And then, from the water, again came the call, “Otahkohsoa’ tsis!”
“I am coming,” Red Hawk called out, and wading into the deeper water, he submerged himself. It required no small degree of stamina to confront the large, snakelike creature. Still, he swam toward it until at last he came right up to it.
The sea dog opened his mouth to show two sets of fangs. Terror filled Red Hawk’s soul, but he remained steadfast, and he said, in thought, “I am here.”
“Otahkohsoa’ tsis,” began the creature, “behold, I have taken pity on you. I have watched you all this day through, swimming about in my lake, searching for guidance. Only one who is brave and true dare enter my lake, and for this, your bravery, I will bestow upon you my power of cunning and prodigious thought. The Thunderer is great, for he is a god, and he is angry at you, at all your people. Know, Otahkohsoa’ tsis, that your time to act for your people is near. You will be given two chances, one to end the curse for your people and one to render the anger of the Thunderer less. If you are lucky, you will accomplish both. Now listen, for here is what you must do…”
Effie’s two wagons were easy enough to find. At present the group was camped on an open meadow. To the north and south of the place were jutting mountains, while to the east and west were hills of a much tamer nature.
They had pitched camp next to a stream, one that housed a few cottonwood trees, as well as a willow or two and several bushes. One of the wagons was parked beneath an enormous willow, all but hiding it from view. Red Hawk crept up to that wagon first.
It was empty.
Unwilling to announce his arrival to one and all—for Red Hawk hoped to catch Effie alone—he slipped up next to the other wagon, which, though much more exposed to view, was empty as well. However, clothes, pots, pans, even the water and food supplies had been dumped and were strewn where they lay. What had happened here?
In the center of the camp, voices were raised, and leaping as noiselessly as possible into the interior of the wagon, Red Hawk paused to listen.
“I think this evidence clearly points to the fact that your Indian scout is trying to steal the artifacts from you.”
Red Hawk could see John Owens and Fieldman standing before Effie. In Owens’s hand, and dangling from it, was an Indian-made choker of blue and white beads. It looked familiar.
Belatedly, Red Hawk reached up to feel around his neck. Sure enough, his choker of glass beads and leather was gone. He hadn’t noticed.
Meanwhile, Carl advanced toward Owens and, picking up the choker, examined it carefully. “It is Red Hawk’s,” he said, as though confirming Red Hawk’s guilt.
Madeline had followed her husband and reached out to touch the necklace. “There could be some other explanation.”
“Perhaps.” Carl frowned at his wife. “But what other accounting could there be for such a drastic action?”
Carl’s statement seemed innocent, and when Madeline’s face filled with color, it looked to Red Hawk to be out of place for the situation. But her reaction was soon explained when Lesley said, “Carl, your wife is not at fault here. I’m sorry, but I heard the two of you arguing a little while earlier, and I think I should tell you that Madeline was with me when this happened. While you were out hunting, we were swimming. Now, Father, where did you say you found this?”
“In the most incriminating place possible,” replied Owens. “Beside Miss Effie’s wagon.”
“Well, that’s all I need to know,” said Lesley. “I for one agree with Father. It seems our guide has betrayed us.” With hands on hips, Lesley turned to Effie. “What are you going to do about this?”
“Nothing at the moment,” replied Effie, “since he’s not here.”
Red Hawk watched Effie’s face intently as she stepped toward them and reached out to finger the choker. She paused before she said, “Mr. Owens, Lesley, Carl, thank you for bringing this to my attention, but really I think it’s nonsense. We all saw Red Hawk leave. He’s probably miles from here right now.”
“How do we know that with any degree of certainty?” asked Owens threateningly. “We only saw him leave. What if he doubled back, only to search through your things? I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, you can’t trust these Indians.”
“I agree,” Lesley uttered, her stance challenging. “In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if you are qualified enough to be in charge of this expedition, Effie.”
“That was unnecessary.” It was Madeline speaking.
Carl nodded. “Miss Rutledge has done fine so far. It’s not her fault that several mishaps have—”
“Well, if there’s any more,” Lesley threatened, “I’m going to throw my lot in with Father. I’m beginning to believe he is the only one who can find the missing artifacts.”
Silence followed this rather intimidating disclosure.
At that moment Henry stepped into the gathering. Where had he been? “What’s going on here?” he asked.
“Miss Effie’s Indian friend has tried to steal the artifacts,” stated Owens. “And where have you been?”
“Washing off the deer we killed in the stream,” replied Henry. “And I don’t believe you about Red Hawk. I could swear the man is trustworthy.”
“I, too, believe this to be so,” said Effie. But Red Hawk saw her frown.
“Miss Effie…” Owens’s voice held a note of threat, “…do not think we are deceived. I have seen you wear his feather in your hair, and I have witnessed that you have a particular attachment to the man. Therefore, I have my doubts that you might be able to look at this logically, as any real scientist would do. Someone went through your possessions tonight, while we were all away from the camp.”
“Yes, yes, but—”
“This is the third attack upon this group, Miss Effie,” Owens observed, “and as I understand it, the assaults started occurring around the time when you hired this man… Hawk, I believe is his name. Twice, I have been told there were items found that would implicate the Indian,
and I for one believe—”
“But don’t you see?” interrupted Effie. “That’s just the problem. If it really were Red Hawk doing these things, he would never leave anything behind. He’s too well trained a scout.”
“Bah!”
“Oh, come now,” reasoned Effie. “Have you never noticed how meticulous Red Hawk is about everything? He observes even the tiniest of peculiarities, and he misses nothing. The weather conditions, not only of today, but of months previous, he knows them all in perfect detail so he can know how long ago tracks were made. He paints himself like the environment to avoid detection. He can tell from a single track if the trail is made by an enemy or a friend. Given that, I must ask you and your daughter to consider your words wisely. Do you really think someone so fastidious would be clumsy enough to leave such obviously personal items behind?”
“Miss Effie,” muttered Owens, his countenance contorted with the beginnings of rage. “The man is Indian, and as such, is inferior to us in every way. Do you really think a savage has the reasoning ability you grant him?”
“I do,” proclaimed Henry.
Carl frowned. “I have to admit that I agree with Effie on that as well.”
Effie shook her head gently, before smiling. “Yes, Mr. Owens. I would have to agree with Henry and Carl. I think Red Hawk has this sort of ability. Now, please, all of you, I need some time alone. I need to think about this. But most of all, I need to gather up my things.”
“I’ll help.” Madeline stepped up to Effie and placed an arm around her shoulders. “And you will too, won’t you, Carl?”
Carl nodded.
“Really, John,” said Madeline, “it’s bad enough that Effie has to find all her things without you adding to her problem. And, Lesley.” She frowned. “Whether you think Effie competent or not, I wish you would help us collect up her things.”
John? thought Red Hawk, raising his brow.
Lesley was frowning. “Yes, you’re right. Just because I think she has a soft spot for the Indian is no reason not to assist her. Of course I’ll help.”
The three women set off toward the prairie, where even now Red Hawk could see many of Effie’s things blowing in the wind.
Interesting. After slipping from the wagon, Red Hawk disappeared from the camp by means of shadows and the cover of the greenery. It took no genius to realize that someone on this wagon train—or someone following them—was attempting to steal the artifacts that Effie carried. It was interesting that he had been the scapegoat this time.
It did cause him to wonder exactly who was doing this. Was there more incentive behind these attacks than the mere confiscation of artifacts?
These questions, and a good many others, he could not answer. However, he did intend to find out where John Owens and Fieldman were going, for they had not headed in the direction of their tent.
He found them easily enough. But what were they doing? They were hunched over in the water with pans held tightly in their grip. This action looked familiar.
Ah, the gold seekers. Prospectors.
Why would Owens and his manservant be hunting for gold en route to an expedition? Such behavior was very strange indeed.
Shaking his head, Red Hawk turned to make his way back to the wagons. This time he would not bother to disguise his approach. He would be leaving camp soon anyway, as he would need to scout the trail ahead of them for the morrow.
“There he is!” Henry shouted, and Red Hawk lifted his right hand, palm open, the Plains Indian sign to show he held no weapons and that he came in peace.
“Red Hawk has returned.” It was Madeline speaking.
“Red Hawk?” asked Effie, and she dropped whatever things she had been holding as she set out toward him. “Red Hawk, you’re back!” she shouted with glee. “You have been gone so many days, and we were all afraid something horrible had happened to you.”
Red Hawk smiled, for he knew, with the exception of herself, Henry and possibly Carl, that this was not so.
She raced up to him and stopped. Haiya, how he wanted to open his arms wide and welcome her into them, but he held back, for others watched.
Instead, he grinned at her and said, for her ears alone, “I thank you for defending me, my wife. And now, let us talk about that marriage.”
He watched with amusement as she grimaced.
Chapter Nineteen
The archaeological site—one month later
Effie let down the wooden tail flap of her wagon and placed an unfolded map of the archaeological site upon it. The map, which was in essence a drawing of the entire area surrounding them—including every rock and tree and shrub—would serve as a guide to each place they chose to exhume.
“Come close,” she said to the rest of her crew. It was midmorning on their first day of digging, but the noon hour fast approached. Using her hands to press down on the map, she pointed to a spot on it. “Carl, did you place a marker here so that anyone interested in digging in this area again can more easily find the place?”
“I did.”
“Good. Madeline,” continued Effie, “did you mark out the site where we will begin our preliminary digging?”
“Yes. I’ll point to it on the map.”
Effie at once placed a red mark to indicate the location. “That’s where we will begin our digging, first to get a reliable look at the strata of the land, so that we can observe what the terra firma was like before man entered the scene. Now, do you all have a shovel and a trowel, as well as journals and papers in which to keep your records?”
All those present nodded, and looking up, Effie silently assessed each piece of equipment.
“This all looks to be in good order.” Turning, she smiled at each one of them. “And now, at last, let’s begin digging.”
There were murmurs of agreement, even a few cheers. Most of the crew headed toward the spot where the preliminary digging would occur.
“Mr. Owens,” said Effie, “might I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Effie and the others had set up the site of their work in an area that Red Hawk called Mahkwiyi Istikiop or Where the Wolf Fell Down. Known to the white man as Wolf Creek, their site was situated in the shadow of a cliff, which in ancient times had been used as a buffalo jump, or what Red Hawk called a piskan. Here legend had it that a wolf that had been following on the trail of a buffalo herd, which was being lured by the Indians, fell over the cliff along with the buffalo.
It was a fine legend, and an aptly named spot. In truth, it induced a feeling within her of being close to the ancients.
“Mr. Owens,” she said. “Need I tell you that I am so glad you are here?”
“As am I, Miss Effie.”
“I am flattered to have such an experienced person for my field supervisor. I’m sure you realize what an important position this is, for you will be directing the type of excavation to be done. I’m very excited to have you here, and I’m assuming your friendship with my father must have been the determining factor that led you to be a part of this dig.”
Effie noted that Owens’s gaze was directed somewhere between her nose and her chin. Instead of looking her directly in the eye, he avoided her. It was a little disconcerting.
“Your father was, indeed, a deciding factor, Miss Effie. Our friendship, as you of course must realize, knows no bounds.”
“Yes, I am aware of that, and I am most thankful for it. I know you are more experienced than I in the standard procedure of an archaeological dig, and I am hoping you will not object too much to questions I might need to ask from time to time.”
“Not at all, Miss Effie. Not at all.” Owens nodded.
Effie continued, “How have you arranged the personnel for the dig? I’m assuming that—”
“Don’t worry your pretty little red head about such details, Miss Effie,” Owens
interrupted. “I’m sure you have much more to attend to than worrying about things that need not concern you.”
Need not concern her?
“Know that my experience has teamed the best people together. Because I was here with your father several years ago, he thought it best I come along and ensure the dig went smoothly. I am the expert, after all. I think he feared that, though he loves you dearly, you might turn out to be incompetent.” He smiled at her, although Effie felt like he had stabbed her in the heart.
Her smile remained in place, as though frozen. Suddenly and irreconcilably, she felt as though she had been dropped from midair.
Still, calming herself, she said, “That will be fine, Mr. Owens, but—”
He turned his back on her and walked away.
Her mouth open, Effie watched him for some moments, wondering vaguely if he had meant to appear so patronizing. How could he? He was her friend, her father’s friend.
Or was she reading too much into this?
Tilting her head as she surveyed his disappearing figure, some rather condemning facts came readily to mind. Wasn’t it true that her father could have picked Owens as the director of the project? Was there some reason why he hadn’t?
Also, initially, hadn’t Effie been concerned about Owens’s possible jealousy? Although her father had reassured her that Owens would be happy to act as her second-in-command, hadn’t the situation been enough of an anxiety that she had mentioned it once to Lesley?
Could it be that Owens resented her presence here on the project? It seemed more and more probable that he did. John Owens was most likely envious of her, the age-old story of the elder being overlooked in favor of the younger.
But if that were so, why was he here? Why hadn’t he declined the invitation? Loyalty to her father perhaps? Or was it the lure of one final dig that brought him here?
Effie realized that in the days to come, she would have ample opportunity to dispel Owens’s resentment of her. She’d never feel comfortable asking these questions of him, for they were too direct, but if she were able, she could at least show herself to be competent. And if all went well, he should be her friend again.
