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.
Meanwhile, she would put this most recent exchange behind her. Yes, that was best. After all, the man was her father’s best friend.
As she had said earlier, it wouldn’t be too great a strain to simply view the arrangements that had been made. It wasn’t as if it required any genius. There could only be two teams, and observing what groupings had been assigned was not a great mental exercise.
Effie grabbed hold of the map again and studied it. Putting it down, she reached for a ledger and began to write. Goodness knew, she had ledgers to fill, journals to make and an accounting of all the funds used so far on this trip. That should be enough work to fill her time and her thoughts for the next several days.
Besides, there was the grid to make. As she and Owens had agreed beforehand, their teams would use the grid system for quarrying the area, a procedure that checker-boarded the excavation site, providing little squares for digging. In this way they could ensure that the entire site had been unearthed.
Ah, here would be a chance to demonstrate her competency to Owens. Perhaps in the process, she might also prove that her father had indeed placed his faith correctly.
Dear Lord, but it was hot. Hot and dry. Though off in the distance thunderclouds could be seen, with lightning strikes falling to the ground, no rain fell here. In fact, it had been so long since there had been a summer shower, she wondered if the country might not be experiencing a drought.
Enough speculating. Reaching up to remove her hat and wipe her forehead, she set to work.
In the days that followed, Effie began to believe she had made a mistake. It was one thing to imagine that she could work her way into John Owens’s good graces. It was another to do it.
In reality, it appeared that the more control she exerted over the project, the more critical Owens became of her. Indeed, the entire dig was fast becoming an exercise in who would rule the excavation site, much to Effie’s disappointment.
The first incident had occurred after Effie had spent upward of five or six hours producing a workable grid. Immediately upon presenting it to the crew and setting them to utilize it, Owens changed his mind. The crew would now work the site in the vertical-face method of excavation.
When Effie had objected due to the amount of time she had put in on the project, Owens had said, “But, Miss Effie, do you see that the lay of the land goes steeply downward?”
Effie had been ready to answer, for she, too, had taken that into account when she had made the grid. But she hadn’t been given a chance, since Owens had laughed at her, and then gone on to say, “The grid method will make it harder on those at the top of the incline than those at the bottom. Therefore, it makes sense to switch to the vertical-face method.”
“But, I already—”
“Here give me that.” Owens had grabbed the grid out of her hands and torn it into little pieces. Without even a hint of an apology, he had walked away, again leaving Effie with her mouth gaping open.
She hadn’t known how to respond, how to go about restoring her authority. In the end, she had done nothing about it. Nor had she told anyone about the incident at all.
Who would believe her? Firstly, John Owens was a well-respected archaeologist. Secondly, she was not inclined to gossip, no matter the provocation.
So she capitulated. This time.
In truth, even as director, she’d had little choice in the matter but to yield to him. As field supervisor, Owens had every right to change the method of excavation, if he deemed it necessary, no questions asked.
But Effie felt more and more as if she needed a defense against the man, for she found him to be hurtful, and she knew she couldn’t very well continue on in this manner—the upset ate away at her.
The change had finally come in an alteration of her tactics. She decided it best to simply stay out of Mr. Owens’s way, a system that proved more than soothing to her nerves.
So the days had passed relatively peacefully.
Effie still recalled the first time one of their team members had discovered something of worth. It had been Henry who had been doing the digging.
“I’ve found something!” he had called out. Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm, he had tried to run with the find, almost dropping it.
Effie had hurried forward, as did the others, but none were fast enough to save the piece. Luckily, Lesley was a little more experienced than her husband, having grown up around archaeological digs. She had dived for the piece and caught it after Henry had inadvertently dropped it.
“Thank you, Lesley,” Effie had said, offering her a hand up. But Lesley had refrained from taking the proffered hand and had gained her footing without aid.
The artifact had turned out to be a carefully carved cup, made from the horn of a bull.
Effie now spent her time checking each excavation site for the type of artifacts discovered, since more were uncovered every day. She also carefully supervised the cleaning of each piece, if only because the cleaning required a delicate touch.
Sometimes she helped with the digging. But her biggest duty, which kept her adequately busy, was cataloging each artifact found, while comparing them to similar finds from previous digs. In this way, the age of each piece could be determined.
It was not the most physically demanding work. But because it was being done in the heat of the day, even this was exhausting.
John Owens, except for an occasional spurt of activity, sat beneath his awning. Occasionally, he cataloged findings. But for the most part, he did little work, except to fan himself and to read odd journals about things that had no significance to what they were doing on the dig.
Although it was true that due to his age, as well as his experience, Owens should not be required to actually dig, there was so much else to do on an excavation project like this, and so little of it required physical exertion, that it was hard to justify his inaction.
Not even Owens’s manservant, Fieldman, lifted a hand to help. Instead, he catered to his employer, with an ever-ready supply of cigars and brandy.
Not once did Effie complain about Owens or Fieldman. Instead, she tried to understand. In his youth, Mr. Owens had had his day; he’d done his work. Perhaps it was his right now that he was older to do nothing more than watch the operation, as well as give each one of them suggestions on how to do their work better.
Perhaps there were other reasons. It had certainly been a grueling, though exciting journey here. Maybe he and his manservant really did deserve a rest.
Effie sighed, and taking a break from her work on the records, she glanced around their campsite, as though she expected to see Red Hawk there in front of her, teasing her, making himself a nuisance. She missed him. She had become so used to his presence over these past few months that no day seemed quite right without him.
Red Hawk had told her he was visiting relatives and was resting in their camps, yet she wasn’t certain this was the whole truth. In the beginning he had seemed rested, but now, each time he visited, he looked more and more exhausted. She couldn’t help but wonder if this rest wasn’t bad for his health.
But if visiting relatives wasn’t all he was doing, what else was occupying his time?
In vain, she searched her memories for a clue as to what he might be doing, any conversations they might have had about it, but it was useless.
Her musings brought to mind one of the most spectacular experiences of her life. Smiling, she recalled vista upon vista of unprecedented beauty—the place known as the Gates of the Rocky Mountains, an area of the Missouri River that sliced through stark cliffs and pine-covered mountains.
It had been slow going through those mountains, made longer because of Red Hawk’s reluctance to push too far during the daylight hours. He had said to her, “Once my people know I am here and that I lead these wagons, there will be no trouble. But I must alert the Blackfeet to your presence.”
“Why?” she had asked him. “If your people find us, couldn’t you simply tell them we are friends?”
“I could,” he had said, “but I fear that the warriors will shoot first and ask questions later. I could be wrong, for scouts will reveal my presence here. Still, I would rather not take the chance.”
So they had moved tardily through that beautiful area, though strangely no one had objected. Now, looking back on it, Effie wondered if the overwhelming views, as well as the feeling of independence this place imparted, might have been the cause of such acquiescence. Was it that, also, which had drawn her closer to Red Hawk? For she no longer winced when he called her wife. Indeed, she relished in the warmth of his expression of love.
She desired to feel that closeness between them again. However, since the moment when they had arrived at the excavation site and had set up a more permanent camp, Red Hawk seemed disinclined to remain with her. Certainly he ventured into the campsite often enough to bring fresh meat, but he was soon gone, and with the exception of a few stolen nights, he might as well have been a stranger.
Their group was at present in their second week of excavation, and a loose schedule of sorts had been set up. In the mornings, the women cooked breakfast, while the men washed up. After eating, the men set to work, while the women bathed, joining their partners about midmorning.
Although the women oftentimes dug within the site, it was more generally accepted that the men should take on the physical aspects of the work, reserving the cleaning and recording of any artifacts found to the women. In the evening, they all retired to the river for a swim before supper. All except Effie, who usually continued to clean and catalog well into the supper hour.
On this day, Effie had missed her supper altogether, easy enough to do since the sun set so late in the night sky. The light was beginning to fade when Madeline brought her a plate full of food.
“You really should eat more, Effie.”
Effie glanced up at the other woman and gratefully accepted the extended plate. “It’s just that there’s so much work to do, and if I don’t do it—”
“Then we’ll just have to stay here a little longer.”
“Yes, that’s true. But our resources are stretched as it is.” Picking up her fork, Effie began to eat. “It seems incredible that I don’t know more about you than I do. Here we are, alone so often, and yet… Let’s see. What do I know? That you and Carl are happily married, that you both share a love of history and archaeology and that you are a kindhearted individual, one I should like to know better. Tell me a little bit more about yourself. How long did you know Carl before you married? How did you know it was love?”
Madeline shrugged. “There’s not too much to tell, actually. Carl and I fell in love when I was only fifteen. That was five years ago. Our parents encouraged us to get together, as our two families were friends. We married fairly young. I was only seventeen.”
“Lucky you,” said Effie. “I wish I could have married so young.”
“Yes. Lucky me.” She glanced away from Effie.
“Do you have any interests outside of archaeology?”
“I like to dance.” She gazed back at Effie and smiled. “At one time my parents made it possible for me to receive classical ballet lessons.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. But I should have guessed. You are so graceful.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you and Carl plan to have any children?”
“Oh, yes,” said Madeline, “though I don’t seem to be doing well in that particular regard. We have tried to have a baby, but so far we have not been successful.”
“That’s too bad,” sympathized Effie, “but what fun you two must be having in the meantime.”
For a moment Madeline looked startled to think that their director might suggest such a thing. But then she smiled, as did Effie. Before long, the two of them were laughing, just as though they were grand old friends.