The mist was ushering in another fine morning as Effie stepped to her room’s only window. Staring off due east, she could see that the sky was still navy blue, a sign that she had awakened long before the others were to arise. Unbidden, her thoughts turned to him, the boy from her youth.
Where was he? And why was he etched so deeply in her mind?
Effie had spent a sleepless night. Not due to the boy, but rather because of the previous evening’s “guest”. Alas, she had barely closed her eyes.
Tired though she was, sleeplessness wasn’t the worst of her troubles. Effie was worried about the turn of events. She could no longer leave the artifacts in her room. Locked or not, this hotel was not now the safe haven she had once thought it to be.
Briefly, she considered her options. She could carry them in her purse or she could even purchase a safety deposit box.
On this last thought, she frowned. No, she couldn’t put them in a deposit box. A bank might be too easily robbed, particularly in an out-of-the-way mining town like Virginia City. Plus, there was an additional difficulty: She would require these artifacts to be at hand as soon as the digging commenced. If their excavation did uncover the other two nuggets, only as a complete set of four could they be presented to the Lost Clan.
But surely there was something else she could do to protect the golden valuables.
“I could ask Madeline or Carl to keep them for me,” she mumbled to herself. “Or perhaps Lesley might be willing to hold them in trust.”
No. In reality, Effie wasn’t certain she could trust Lesley or even any of the others in her group.
She immediately pulled up on that thought.
What a terrible thing to believe. After all, out of the many different kinds of people in this town, her crew was probably the most trustworthy.
“And yet…” She paused.
It was that uncertainty that made Effie hesitate to include the others in her confidence. True, everyone in her party had already seen the artifacts. It had been necessary to show them to her crew so each would know what the nuggets looked like. Indeed, identification without a good representation of what needed identifying was almost impossible.
But this had taken place while they were back East. It was her understanding that Madeline and Carl Bell thought that Effie still held the valuables there. Only Lesley, and perhaps her husband, knew the entire story of the legend, and only they were aware that all four artifacts were required to be present together, otherwise…
“You don’t suppose…?”
No, that was another rather unpleasant thought.
Still, Effie couldn’t shake the rather startling idea, and she wondered, could Lesley be the one who was trying to steal the artifacts? Had she sent her husband to do her dirty work? Was it he who had broken into her room?
Effie frowned. It could be.
It was certainly true that Lesley liked the finer things in life, and the nuggets would fetch a handsome dollar.
“No, it can’t be,” Effie whispered to herself.
Hadn’t she known Lesley all her life? Though Lesley might be more than a little spoiled, and mayhap a bit frivolous, Effie could not envision the other girl as a thief.
But if not Lesley, then who?
Perhaps Lesley or her husband had let slip to someone that Effie carried the precious nuggets. Had some conversation between the two of them been overheard?
If that were the case, then the thief could be anybody.
It was all rather confusing. For a moment, Effie wondered if her father had realized what dangers would follow in the wake of the artifacts leaving their secure place back East. Had he realized that if his daughter carried them on her person…?
Wait! On her person.
Surely that might present a solution. Could she not carry them? Hidden in her effects?
After all, the stones themselves weren’t terribly heavy, weighing about two pounds apiece. She could place them each into a satchel and hang them from around her waist by a string, perhaps one on either side of her hips. No doubt her very full skirts would hide them.
But was there a drawback to doing so? Effie tried to envision a scenario where the artifacts, if tied to her person, might be insecure. There was only one possibility she could foresee.
Once on location, she would be forced to bathe in a river or stream. It would be then, and perhaps only then, that she would be required to set the stones aside.
Or would she? Could she possibly arrange it so that, even then, the artifacts remained with her at all times?
Suddenly it came to her, and gasping aloud, she snapped her fingers. That was it. It would be perfect.
Her bathing suit would be her solution, since it was full enough to hide the valuables. But could she wash those secret places on her body and remain clothed at the same time?
She would have to conduct a test of it, bathe in a stream and see if it were possible. If it were, her problem would be solved.
Effie quickly stepped to her vanity and rummaged through the drawer until she found a needle, thread and some sturdy material. Next she scooted the vanity chair toward the window, where she could gaze outside with ease. She sat down, preparing to sew together two satchels, one for each rock.
It wasn’t long, however, before the fog swirled in through the open window and into her room. A short time after, memories of the past swept to the fore of her mind, prompting her to recall another place and time.
Where was he?
It was odd how much her new guide, Mr. Hawk, reminded her of the boy from her past. Maybe it was because both tended to be clumsy. Was that why the man seemed so familiar?
On that thought, she frowned.
Virginia City was a gold mining town, having been quickly established at the end of the Bozeman Trail for this specific purpose. It sat in the grasslands of the friendly Crow Indians, thus making raids by the natives few.
On any given day, from a venue on a hill outside the city, one was presented with perhaps the most chaotic sight in all the territory. Men, six thousand or more of them, were crowded into the gulch where gold had been discovered. There these men dug, fought, cursed, drank, pushed and shoved. Teams and wagons stood knee-deep in mud, and the road was almost impassible. Tents were everywhere, but there was a sawmill here, as well, a little farther downstream, with its smoke and horrible noise adding pollution to the already turbulent nature of the place.
The din was almost unbearable, for the buzz of those saws was continuous. Add to this the clamor from more than six thousand men, and the effect was deafening.
But there was another aspect of the city that few had ever taken the time to discover. Located in the heart of the plains, and skirted by grass-covered hills, Virginia City also spawned places where one could sit and think.
On the other side of town, over a few hills, one might discover a quiet stream, a place where the water ran deep, and where the brook babbled its way eastward. Alongside that stream grew several scarce cottonwood trees, as well as one immense willow whose roots were well embedded in the soil. The rocks in the stream were slick, and the water was swift, but cool and refreshing.
Effie had discovered the place soon after arrival and had promised herself to come back often, if only to get away from the hubbub of the town. But to date, she had not had a chance to return until this morning. Now she came to test her skill in bathing fully clothed.
Certain she had awakened before anyone else in the town was about, Effie finished her sewing and tied the artifacts to the top of her bloomers. Next, she donned her red-plaid bathing suit and slipped on her cloak. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she decided to leave her hair down, since she intended to wash it while at the stream. Pushing a heavy part of her bangs out of the way, she let the gentle curls of her hair cascade down her back.
The morning was still wet with dew as she stepped away from the hotel and plodded over grass and mud. There was also a chill in the air. Determined as she was to keep the artifacts safe, she barely noticed the discomfort.
The mining hadn’t started yet, and the songs of the larks, the thrushes, the sparrows, even the doves, filled an otherwise quiet early morning. There was no well-worn path leading to the spot, and Effie soon became glad she had decided to wear boots, for once away from the township, the grasses began to grow taller.
At last, the cottonwood trees came into view, and with a few more lumbering steps, she arrived at her destination. Striding right up to the water, she took a moment to listen and simply soak up the peace of the place.
The stream gurgled and murmured on its way to some unknown destination, the sound soothing to her troubled nerves. Inhaling deeply of the moist, pure air, she relaxed, and it wasn’t long before she threw off her cloak. Instantly, the red flannel of her bathing dress caught in the wind. She hugged her bosom, realizing that the breeze felt good.
She glimpsed sight of her reflection in the stream. What a spectacle she was. The trousers of her ensemble resembled knickerbockers, over which she had donned a shorter, though full dress, one that reached just below her knees. Though the outfit came complete with belt and matching hat, making Effie the picture of a postwar modern girl, she felt uncomfortable.
Oh, to be able to throw it all off and slip into the pool with nothing between her skin and the water. The urge was almost overbearing. But it could not be. She was an adult now, not a child.
Remaining afoot in her shoes, for if she remembered correctly, the bottom of the stream was rocky, she took a step forward and waded into the silvery blue water. It was cold but refreshing, slick, yet the river’s bottom was solid. The smell of the fresh water sent her mood soaring.
All at once, she smiled, and memory after memory flooded her senses. She recalled again how much she had loved the early morning and her swims all those years ago. Back East she had taken to bathing in either a tub or a washbasin, since the waters in that part of the country were becoming polluted.
However, she was beginning to realize that a bath was a poor substitute for the real thing. There was no sense of being one with the earth, with all life. It was as though the water in a bath weren’t…alive.
A giggle escaped her lips as she plunged under the water. She surfaced, dove, surfaced again. Spreading her arms, she danced within the water like a nymph, diving more deeply, exercising her limbs and lungs.
Feeling more vital than she had only moments earlier, she sensed her troubles lift away. If only momentarily it induced her to frolic and play within that stream. Winded, she headed for the shallows, where she sat for a while, using her hands to spray water over herself.
A golden sort of light was spreading through the fog from the east, there against the opposite shoreline. Was it her imagination? Could a person feel the earth coming alive? Enchanted, she watched as a moose surveyed her from a safe distance across the water.
“Won’t you join me?” she asked it.
When it snorted and shook its head as if in answer, Effie laughed, then plunged into the current once more. Moments later, she surfaced, executed a few turns beneath the water and tarried yet again. Ah, such pleasure.
But time was wearing on, and she knew she would have to come back to the world as it was. She hadn’t made this trek for pure enjoyment.
A few well-placed strokes in the stream brought her to a spot where her feet would touch bottom yet the water would cover her completely, and she stood up. Bending, she grabbed hold of some sand on the river’s bottom and commenced using it to scrub herself.
Glancing around to ensure she was still alone, she opened the front of her dress to wash her chest and underarms. Next, reaching up under her skirt, she bent to cleanse her stomach, thighs and legs.
So far, so good. There was no problem.
However, when she left the water, would there be visible traces of the satchels that were still tied to her waist?
She’d never know by simply standing here contemplating. Carefully, she rose from the water and waded to the shore. So intent was she in measuring the fullness of her hips—to ensure that the satchels were not visible—she didn’t at first see him.
When he said, “’Tis good you are not as round as a bull. Why do you wear clothes that make you appear so?” Effie gasped, her muscles tensing as she glanced to her right, then to her left. But the man was reclining on the shore, directly in front of her.
“You!”
He nodded. He seemed about to say something of import to her, but the words appeared to freeze up in his throat.
She waited, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed. Twice he attempted to speak, but the words didn’t come.
At last, she ventured to say, “Do you too have some negative comment about the way I dress?”
He shook his head. “No, but I did fear that by the way you now attire yourself you had grown overly big since we last met. Not that it would matter to me if you had.”
“Since we last met?”
He drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Do you not remember me?”
She looked at him blankly.
“And here am I having never forgotten you.” He pulled at something around his neck, producing a gold chain for her perusal. She recognized it at once.
“Then it was you yesterday…and all those years ago. No wonder,” she mumbled, speaking the last to herself.
She took one step forward and extracted her necklace, which rarely left its place between her breasts. Holding it up so he could see it, she voiced, “Does this look as though I had forgotten you, Mr. Hawk?”
Effie thought she might have witnessed a smile appear upon the man’s handsome face, but the light at this time of day was not great, and the shadows concealed much.
They stared at one another for some moments, neither making an effort at conversation. Time and place seemed to distort. There were only the two of them, here together, alone at last. Her spirits lifted.
Finally, he said, “My heart is happy to see you again. In these many years that have passed since we first met, you have been in my thoughts often.”
“Yes.” It was the only thing she could think to say.
“I would ask what it is that you seek.”
The question caught her by surprise, perhaps because she wasn’t prepared for it. Indeed, so shocked was she in the fact that he was here, now, before her—when she had never expected to see him again—she felt as though she were jolted back to the present. Her head reeled.
However, by the grace of God, she was alert enough to respond in a somewhat intelligent fashion. “And why would you be asking me, Mr. Hawk?”
He veered his head to the left, giving it a slight jerk. “As your guide, I would ensure the safety of your party. Therefore, I would know what trouble awaits us.”
“Trouble? You expect trouble?”
“I believe that I might. ’Tis rumored in this town that your—what did you call it, expedition?—is cursed.”
“Cursed? I don’t believe this. That is so unfair.”
It was her hope that her words might obtain a respectable degree of sympathy from him, but he didn’t so much as move a hair in response. After a slight pause, he continued. “’Tis also said that someone broke into your quarters during the night. This person shot at you. If these things be true, then I would venture to say you already have trouble. If I am to guide you and protect you, I would know what awaits us.”
Effie sighed, looked away from him and remained silent. The man had certainly done his homework.
Suddenly, she felt cold, and glancing down, she was dismayed to witness that the entire bottom half of her body was still standing in the water. She’d almost forgotten. Glancing up at him, she said, “Would you mind if I wade to shore? I am getting chilled as I stand here.”
He motioned her forward.
She hesitated. “I don’t think you understand. I cannot leave the water so long as you are here.”
He frowned. “You wish me to leave?”
“Yes.”
“That is to be regretted. Perhaps I should not have spoken out so readily or so soon. Have my words caused you grief?”
“It’s not that.”
“Nor do I mean to frighten you.” He held up his hands. “I hold no guns, no weapons. I am not threatening you. Would you like my word that I will not—?”
She cut him off. “It is for modesty’s sake that I ask you to leave, Mr. Hawk, nothing more.”
“Modesty?”
“Yes, modesty,” she repeated. “Now, do not pretend ignorance of what I speak, if you please. You are a man, I am a woman. We are alone. I must ensure there is nothing scandalous about my attire or about my demeanor. But I would do so in private.”
“Aa, now I understand. ’Tis foolish of me not to have realized that before.” He turned his head away from her, and rotating so his back was turned toward her, he folded his arms over his chest. As soon as he had done so, he continued speaking. “It is good that you bring this to my attention, for I have seen nothing dishonorable about you this entire morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Once, long ago, you wore less clothing than this.”
“Yes, I did,” she agreed. Then sarcastically, she added, “And how kind of you to make mention of it.”
She watched as he bowed his head and shook it back and forth. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought he laughed at her. From what she could see of it, his chest certainly quaked.
He said, “’Tis good to behold that there is nothing wrong with your tongue.”
“No, there’s not, and there’s nothing wrong with my voice either should I choose to scream.”
“What you say is true.” He nodded absentmindedly as though her words were profound. “If you want me to go so you have more seclusion, I will leave. But I would be unthinking and unkind if I did not tell you that I think you would be unwise to make me go.”
“Unwise? Why?”
“Because as long as a man is in front of you, you can know where his eyes tend. But send him from you, and he may hide and watch you while you are unaware.”
She snorted. “Then that man is not honorable.”
He shrugged. “Men are men.”
Yes, they are, she thought. Then, aloud, “I believe you use this as an excuse to remain here, Mr. Hawk.”
“Perhaps I do…aa, it could be true. Surely, I have thought of you often in these many years. And though I know I should go and let you have the privacy you seek, I must admit I do not want to leave you. At least not yet.”
As she stared at the back of his head, Effie felt a glimmering spark of kinship with the man. Couldn’t the same be said of her?
After all, what could it harm if they spent a few more moments in one another’s company? Especially since it did appear they were alone. Glancing around once again, she found herself saying, “Very well. I suppose you’re right. We have much to discuss, and perhaps now would be a good time to settle a few matters between us. The only condition I demand is that you remain seated with your back to me until I am ready to receive you properly.”
“Soka’pii. This I will do,” he said, and she relaxed. He broke the spell by adding, “I wonder if it is a good time to tell you that I have been here for some time, and I have already seen you in your beautiful red dress.”
Immediately embarrassed, she uttered, “But how? I looked carefully around before entering the water, and I saw nothing.”
“Then you need to be taught how to look.”
“I see just fine.”
“And yet I have been here all this time, and I was not hiding.”
She raised her eyes in disbelief.
“Do not despair,” he went on to say. “’Tis a trait I have found common amongst the white man. He does not often live in peace with his environment, and so many times he does not see that which is right in front of him.”
“And Indians miss nothing, I suppose?”
“Upon a rare occasion, they might. But it is taught to the young Indian lad and maiden that if a man does not know his environment well and does not observe the obvious, the error could cost him his life. Wise ones are never at their ease. They are always alert, except perhaps when they are within the safety of their village.”
“Maybe so,” she retaliated, “but you are lecturing me, and I do not like to argue so much. Besides, we leave the point. You may have spied me in this dress before I entered the water, but it is not the same when the clothing is wet. Water emphasizes…curves.”
“I understand.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hawk. I am glad that you do. However, the arrangements for our talk will remain, as I have already stated, at least for the time being.”
“As you say.”
Slowly, she rose out of the water and waded to shore. As she had intended all along, she glanced down at her skirts, then breathed in a sigh of relief. It was good. The bathing suit covered not only her, but the artifacts as well.
Very well. One problem solved.
She sat next to Mr. Hawk, who reclined in the grass. “Would you please hand me my towel? It is on the ground beside you.” She gestured to where she had left her cloak even though she knew he couldn’t see the motion.
He reached for the cloak, but his hand stopped midair. “Aa, that I will do—for a price.” He glanced at her over his shoulder and smirked.
“A price? And keep your head turned away from me, Mr. Hawk.”
“As you say.” He looked forward once again.
“And no peeking,” she commanded. “What is it that I must pay, Mr. Hawk? And do hurry to tell me, for I am cold.”
“It is simple. I would like you to tell me what it is you hide.”