Chapter Twenty Seven

 

Giant trees gave way to a glade, replete with remnant limestone ledges that protruded like worn monoliths from damp earth. Bathed in foggy humidity, ferns, lichens, and assorted bromeliads grew in profusion giving the low-lying glade the look and feel of a lush botanical garden.

I knew that Arkansas had hot springs, but was unaware of any located in this part of the Ouachita Mountains. Now, only a day's trek from civilization, we found ourselves cloaked in the wispy mist of a different geologic age and the giant head of a Tyrannosaur suddenly peaking through the fog would not have surprised me.

“It's like Yellowstone,” Amber said. “I think it's a geyser.”

As she pointed toward the center of a pool, it began bubbling like a boiling pot then shot a stream of hot water and steam thirty feet into the air.

I said, “This must be the reason for the constant cloud cover over the Valley. No wonder no one knows what's down here.”

Mary Ann said, “Hope there isn’t any snakes around.”

“You could have gone all day without mentioning snakes,” I said.

“I don’t know about snakes,” Amber said. “But I can tell you right now we're not alone.”

Mary Ann drew closer to me as she gazed around trying to see about what Amber was talking.

“Up there,” Amber said, pointing again.

On a ledge above us a yellow lizard, at least three feet in length, lounged among brightly colored ferns. Purple and crimson moths, some with wings spanning a foot or more, flitted around above stunted shrubbery. Large frogs with translucent skin the color and texture of lime Jell-O, floated on darker green lily pads that abounded in the bubbling pond water. And there were flowers—water-blooming hyacinths whiter than polished ivory and hot house orchids, some as indigo as Amber's eyes.

I touched Mary Ann's shoulder and said, “Let's find a place to make camp. We can explore tomorrow.”

We soon found a suitable spot near a cool pool of water to raise the tent. I helped Amber string a circular rope corral and the animals seemed happy when we relieved them of their packs and saddles. Once Mary Ann had given them each a bag of oats, luckily saved from our near-disaster on the trail, they took to the rope corral with no fuss. With daylight rapidly waning, we relaxed and finished the beans and cornbread. Amber had put leftovers from lunch in her own pack. Now, we had only the leftovers to eat.

 

“Too bad we didn't save the food,” Mary Ann said. “Swamp grass and hot water won't be very filling by Sunday.”

“I'd just like to get out of these dirty clothes,” Amber said. “If anything, by Sunday night we're going to be awfully ripe.”

“What did you say about a sharp stick in the eye?”

My muscles were sore from our extended mule ride, and I winced when Amber elbowed me in the ribs because of my remark.

“Personally, I could use a massage and soak in a Jacuzzi,” I said.

Finishing her last spoonful of beans, Mary Ann said, “Not much we can do about the food but I spotted a pool of water over yonder. The temperature seemed just right. We could wash our clothes and soak our joints while they dried.”

Amber and I required little convincing and found Mary Ann's pool only a short hike from the tent. She led us to a shallow basin beveled by the relentless drip of slightly acidic water on solid limestone. Cold water from the creek and hot water from one of the thermal pools fed into the basin. What resulted was a near perfect temperature for soaking fatigued muscles.

Darkness had engulfed the glade and a chorus of frogs and crickets were already holding sway. Perfume of night-blooming orchids filled the air and distant thunder sounded far up on the mountain. Neither Mary Ann nor Amber seemed the least modest about stripping and washing their clothes. Since I had already seen them both without their clothes on, and they me, I decided not to worry about it.

After washing away trail grim from our garments, we spread them to dry on the bank and eased up to our necks in the hot water. When Amber switched off the lamp to save batteries, we got another surprise in a day already abundant with surprises. Lichen, growing everywhere on surrounding limestone, lighted the area around us with multi-colored phosphorescence.

“Magnificent,” Amber said.

“It's like a fairy land,” Mary Ann said.

Their words understated how I felt. Languishing in the luxury of the moment I reclined until only my eyes and tip of my nose protruded from hot water. My muscles relaxed as I breathed the lusty mixture of sulfur and orchids. Sometime later, Amber aroused me from the lethargy of my relaxation.

“I just had a bad thought. What if the whole valley is foggy like this? What happens if we can't find the trail and our way back up the mountain? It could happen, even if we go no further than we are right now.”

Perspiration trickled down my forehead and I waited until it dropped off the tip of my nose before replying. “We could circle the Valley. Stay close to the mountains until we reach the trail again.”

“Great idea, Magellan. And make it back here in about a month?”

“You're not suggesting we turn around and go back are you?”

“Of course not but we do need a plan.”

“We still have the compass,” Mary Ann said. “All we need to do is head straight south. When we reach the other side of the Valley, we come back in the opposite direction.”

“Genius,” I said sarcastically. “What happens if we don't find what we're looking for? Forget the whole thing?”

Mary Ann's lower lip protruded into a full pout and she leaned back against the limestone wall, curling into a near fetal position with her arms clasped tightly around her knees.

“I know I'm dumb but it doesn't give you any right to be mean to me.”

I had already noticed that Mary Ann's accent seemed to intensify when she was angry or upset. My remark had made her almost incomprehensible.

“Hey,” Amber said, sitting straight up in the pool. “Listen to us. We're starting to sound like cranky old men.”

“More like cranky old women,” I said.

“Mary Ann lets yank his hair out.”

They both grabbed handfuls of my hair and their playful tugs ignited a wrestling match that ended with the three of us laughing so hard I almost choked when Mary Ann pushed my head under water. Our antics relieved the tension. When we finally left the pool dressed in clean albeit damp clothes we all felt much better. My apology to Mary Ann and Amber also seemed to help matters.

Once in the tent Mary Ann cuddled up in her blanket and Amber and I crawled into the double sleeping bag. Less than a minute after situating ourselves beneath the covers Mary Ann asked, “Are you two married?”

“No,” Amber said.

“You sleep together. Do you love each other?”

Her question roused a nervous giggle from Amber. She said, “We haven't exactly reached that stage yet. Right now we're just lovers.”

Amber's answer surprised me and Mary Ann did not immediately respond. As if needing further clarification she cleared her throat and said, “Are you going to make love tonight?”

After the exhausting mule ride and our near disaster on the mountain, Mary Ann's questions were far too much for me. I reached over and switched off the lamp and my parting remark evoked giggles from both Mary Ann and Amber.

“Not to worry. I couldn't if I wanted to.”

***

The trip into the Big Valley had left us out of sorts with each other and our first morning in the strange world found Mary Ann trying to satiate her hunger by nibbling on a flower petal. I was so sore I could hardly walk as Amber fidgeted like a nervous panther because she couldn't go for her morning jog. The mules had fared somewhat better overnight and seemed anesthetized by moist, sulfurous air. At least they'd had their breakfast.

Silver sheaves of slow rain draped our path and shortly cleared away fog as we saddled up and headed south. Thick clouds remained directly overhead, blocking sunlight except for isolated shafts that illuminated the Valley like heavenly spotlights. The mules liked the rain and Ol’ Flame brayed and kicked up his heels like a yearling.

We finally reached the edge of the glade and with it the end of the inherent fog. We found this portion of the Big Valley as flat as the glade but the walking much easier and trees even larger. Because of the same thick cloud cover and extremely high branches, little sunlight filtered through. Here, unlike the thick forest around Turkey Gap, there was no undergrowth, vines or trailers to impede our progress and our mules ambled along on a thick mat of pine needles that cushioned their hooves like high-grade carpeting.

An armadillo shortly startled the mules and seemed unafraid when it crossed our path. The Valley, like the trail leading into it, was a haven for wildlife and abounded with diverse vegetation. Within a mile, we spotted a small herd of whitetail deer. They, along with rabbits, raccoons and other assorted small animals regarded us as no apparent menace.

I had estimated the distance across the Valley at fifty miles. Despite our attempts to speed them along, the mules lazily sampled tall grass and stubbornly refused to go much faster than we could have traveled on foot. By noon, after many rest and exploration breaks, we had yet to reach the center of the Valley. We did find a grove of fruit trees, sagging from the weight of bushels of green pears.

“Lunch,” Amber said.

“Don't let the mules loose beneath them. They'll bloat up like sheep in green clover,” Mary Ann said, reining in her mount as it drew back its head and snorted.

“Let’s tether them beyond the grove and walk back,” I said. “Or else we'll have a stampede on our hands.”

The mules, especially Ol' Flame, protested but after much urging continued past the pears. Just beyond the grove, we saw a circular clearing. Cloud-filtered light reflected kaleidoscopic colors from spots in dark blue soil. It was late September but as warm as early summer when we emerged from the grove. Mary Ann tied her braids in a ball on her head and wiped perspiration from the back of her neck with her hand. Amber mopped the vee of her chest with a handkerchief. I was thinking how good a glass of iced tea would taste.

I noticed the clearing was furrowed and looked for the entire world as if someone had just prepared it for seed. We tethered the mules and walked into the open field to investigate. Forgetting heat and fatigue, Mary Ann sprinted ahead, suddenly emitting an eardrum-shattering squeal. It halted Amber in her tracks and caused me to wrench a muscle in my neck when I jerked around. Amber backed against me and grabbed my hand.

“What the hell!” I said.

Mary Ann didn't answer. Instead, she crouched on her knees, digging with both hands in plowed earth. She glanced up from the field, grinning like a deranged person, and held up a shiny stone.

“Look what I found?”

“What?” Amber asked.

Mary Ann came running and handed Amber a pomegranate red crystal.

“Don't know, but it's sure pretty.”

Amber turned the crystal in her palm with an index finger and handed the crimson stone to me. I held it to the light, rotating it slowly. All fire and sharp edges, it seemed to have a life all its own.

“If Dr. Quinn was here,” Amber said. “He'd know what it was.”

“Or Zekiel.”

Mary Ann squealed again. She had returned to the furrowed field and was crawling on her hands and knees. She had found a second crystal. This one was vivid green. Amber rushed into the clearing, knelt beside her and began sifting through the earth. Struck by the fever, I joined them. In minutes, digging in a frenzy of discovery, we each had handfuls of crystals and had totally lost track of time. With our thoughts riveted on the search for gems, we didn't hear someone approaching from the grove.

Had we glanced up we would have seen the circle of strangely dressed men watching us from the edge of the clearing. They went unnoticed as our fervor continued, unabated. When one of the men cleared his throat, our minds quickly returned to the present. Jumping like frightened rabbits, we turned to see who it was.