Love's Compass

by Gade, Carla; Franklin, Darlene;

  “Silence,” Robbins commanded.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” Eliana’s face heated with shame.

  Robbins spoke through clenched teeth. “Your apology will do nothing to help now. Having a female along puts me in a precarious position, miss, and all of us in jeopardy of harm. We have no choice but to pull out of here immediately and get across the border. We’ve come too far to safely turn back.” Mr. Robbins’s eyes flashed at Papa. “And then, Van Horn, I’ll decide what to do about your assistant.”

  Yiska kept his distance. Eliana rode double behind her father, and Yiska dared not speak to either of them until the storm blew over. As the team pulled forward, purple mountain vistas faded against the backdrop of looming sienna plateaus. The brilliant sunset of red and orange stretched across the early evening sky—a contrast to the dim mood of Chandler Robbins. The leader of the expedition had spoken little to anyone for the past few hours, casting a dismal shadow over all. At the border, Robbins and his surveyors set up their instruments and marked their first official point while several men stood guard, rifles in hand.

  When they crossed into New Mexico territory, a feeling of familiarity came over Yiska. They were now in the land of the Diné, his mother’s people—his people. Here on the Navajo reservation, the imminent danger of the Utes had passed. There was little threat of trouble with the Navajo here, and he would wear his headband to signify his kinship, though it would do little to ward off desperadoes. But he had a different force to reckon with now. Chandler Robbins. Yiska scouted ahead, all the while contemplating his and the Van Horns’ fate.

  He spotted the caravan headed toward him and trotted up to meet them. “Mr. Robbins, I found a place to spend the night in the shelter of some bluffs about a couple miles south.”

  Robbins rubbed the back of his neck. “How far is it to Aztec from there?”

  “Twenty-five miles.”

  “All right. We’ll spend the night up here. Lead the way.”

  Yiska shifted in his saddle. “Mr. Robbins…about today.”

  Robbins’s lips drew into a line as straight as the Colorado–New Mexico border. “It’s been a long day, Yiska. I’ll speak with you and the Van Horns in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir. In the morning.”

  The surveyors had already taken the measurements this morning, and the convoy of wagons and animals was all lined up and ready to go. But the entire cadre of workers sat in front of the campfire as Mr. Robbins paced back and forth.

  Eliana bit her lower lip. Obviously, public humiliation was part of the punishment for her crimes.

  “Yiska, let me get this straight. You knew about this arrangement all along?” Mr. Robbins asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And as the guide on this survey you didn’t see the need to fill me in?”

  “No, sir. I mean, sir, I wasn’t concerned,” Yiska said.

  “And John, did you notify the GLO about the gender of your photography assistant?”

  “It wasn’t required on the application,” Papa said.

  “But you knew it was assumed that she—he—would be a male.”

  “That is typical, but I found no place to specify.” Papa clamped down on his lower lip.

  “Without my knowledge—or anyone else’s for that matter—that we had a female in our company, you put not only your daughter but all of us at risk.” Robbins smacked his hat against his thigh. “Confound it. There shouldn’t have been a need to know in the first place.”

  Mr. Mattheson cleared his throat and signaled Mr. Robbins with his pointing finger. “Chandler, I also knew.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Robbins laughed in disbelief. “No, I suppose you’re not.” He continued to pace. No one uttered a sound. “Is there anyone else who knew about this…other than Mr. Cates, who made a point of finding out?” Robbins’s eyes narrowed at the man.

  “I knew, Mr. Robbins,” Cornelius Crawford said. “I promised not to tell. For her own protection. You wouldn’t have wanted me to go back on my word. The good Lord wants us to be honest.”

  Mr. Robbins scratched his head and muttered. “Honest.”

  Eliana’s face heated. She was next.

  Mr. Robbins walked right up in front of her. “Miss Van Horn. Eliana—Eli. Very clever.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she gulped.

  Mr. Robbins crossed his arms. “No. Don’t thank me. Just tell me. What on earth did you think you were doing?”

  “I intended to assist my father with his photography on a survey expedition with the esteemed Chandler Robbins.” She held her chin up. “I’ve been my father’s right hand man…” A nervous guffaw escaped from her lips, but then she found her composure. “I’ve been helping him for years. He needed my help when he got the government contract to photograph the mines. He hired a man to assist him on this expedition. But he thought he had better prospects in the San Juans than on a desert survey. The disguise was for my protection.”

  “Are you quite through, Miss Van Horn?”

  “Yes, sir.” Eliana winced. “And please call me Eliana.”

  The creases in Robbins’s forehead deepened. “Did my outfitter know about this scheme?”

  Yiska spoke up. “I’m afraid so. Only recently.”

  Robbins threw his hands in the air. “Well, folks, looks like we’re outnumbered. Unless anyone objects, Eliana will remain on the expedition.”

  “What about Wilcox?” Warren Cates protested.

  “What about Wilcox?” one of the assistant surveyors asked. “He’s been working twice as hard as you.”

  “He certainly has,” another voice called out.

  Eliana stood. “Indeed!” She defended him again. She covered her face in her hands and sat down, unable to look at Yiska.

  Mr. Robbins let out a sharp whistle. “Settle down, or we’re all going home. I’m paying you by the mile, not by the day. Time is money. And time is wasting.” Robbins parked his foot on a boulder and leaned his elbow against his knee. “Now, although Eliana has proven that she is a capable member of this team—she even puts some of you to shame, I might add—I expect you all to treat her like a lady. No disrespect. Keep a proper distance. And let her do the work she came here to do.”

  He eyed Papa. “Does that sound fair?”

  “Yes. Thank you. You won’t regret it.” Papa gnawed on his pipe.

  “Eliana, is there anything else you’d like to add?” Mr. Robbins asked.

  She offered a weak smile. “Well, I think we ought to be on our way.”

  Mr. Robbins shook his head and grinned. “The lady has spoken. Get ready to pull out.”

  Eliana’s heart swelled. She was on an important survey expedition, not as Eli, but as Eliana Van Horn. A woman on an official government survey. Who’d have ever thought that possible?

  Chapter 17

  Aztec Ruins, New Mexico Territory

  Yiska scanned the stone ruins from the outer edge of the encampment in Aztec, the remnants of pueblos left behind by an ancient tribe. As he fiddled with a dry blade of grass between his teeth he thought about the struggle to survive, only to have it all come to ruin—like it almost had for him yesterday. And to continue on, not knowing what still might crumble around him, and have the strength to stand. Must the motivations of one’s heart always succumb to external elements? Would his?

  Eliana’s father ambled up to Yiska. “Impressive site. The masonry is astounding. It must have taken a long time to build.”

  “Some say it was built in the twelfth century, and here we stand admiring it.” The ancient ones had disappeared with little to mark their existence but the sandstone rubble. What kind of legacy would Yiska leave? He had no home. No family. All he had were the words he wrote, which would leave little more of an impression on this world than Shadow’s hoofprints in the sand.

  Mr. Van Horn cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak with you about yesterday.”

  Yiska nodded and tossed the blade of grass to the ground. “All ri
ght.”

  “Tell me, what you were doing with my daughter by those pines?” Van Horn rocked back and forth on his heels. His mustache shaded the tight line of his mouth.

  “I was, eh, buttoning her shirt.” Yiska held up his hand. “She was shivering—in shock—and her shirt was undone.”

  Mr. Van Horn scowled. “Did the Indian do that?”

  “I think she had, down at the river,” Yiska said.

  “Why was she alone?” Mr. Van Horn asked.

  Yiska shrugged his shoulders. “She wasn’t, not really. But she needed privacy. That’s when the Ute found her.”

  “Regardless, it wasn’t appropriate for you to…be so familiar with her.” Mr. Van Horn glared.

  Yiska looked back with a blank stare. Would Eliana’s father rather that Yiska left her undone? It was no use reasoning with the man. He was rightfully upset.

  Van Horn loosened his neckerchief and took a deep breath. “I hope you’ll forgive me. I’ve been hard on you lately. My concern for Eliana…Well, I never did thank you.” He extended his hand and offered Yiska a firm handshake. “You saved my daughter’s life again and risked yours in the process.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m glad I could help.”

  “Seems like you’re always there when she needs you.” Mr. Van Horn’s mouth tightened. “I can see that you care about her.”

  Yiska looked down at his boots and contemplated his next words. Then he looked straight into her father’s eyes. “She’s a fine woman, Mr. Van Horn.”

  “You just remember what I said. If anything ever happens to me…” Mr. Van Horn wrinkled his brow. “I trust you, Yiska.”

  Why did this man keep talking like this?

  “There you are.” Eliana appeared, still dressed in men’s clothing. But her hair hung down around her shoulders, and her face beamed like the sun. “Are you ready, Papa? I’ve got the cameras all set up.”

  “You didn’t have to do that all by yourself,” he said.

  “I’m anxious to get started. Mr. Robbins and his crew are already at work, and everyone else is busy at their own tasks.”

  Yiska slid his hands into his back pockets. “Well, I guess we’re slacking then.”

  “Good morning, Yiska.” Eliana gave him a shy smile.

  “Mornin’.”

  “Thank you again for…” She let out a little sigh. “I keep getting myself in trouble. But that’s about to change. I’m feeling much more confident now.”

  Her father placed his arm around her shoulders. “Glad to hear it. Now let’s take those pictures of the landscape, and maybe Yiska will help us explore the ruins.”

  Eliana stood in awe of the acres and acres of ancient dwellings laid out in a massive U-shaped configuration with hundreds of contiguous rooms. After taking an array of exterior photographs of the great Aztec Ruins, they met up with several of the others in the huge circularwalled structure in the center of the courtyard. Yiska remained behind, where she last saw him leaning against a wall of stone, pen and journal in hand.

  Warren Cates’s bravado bounced off the sandstone bricks in the open coliseum. “Remarkable. This place must have belonged to a wealthy leader. I could see myself living here if I were one of the Aztecs.”

  “Actually,” Yiska said as he climbed through one of the openings, “this is a kiva, a ceremonial chamber like the smaller ones outside. These rectangles in the floor were baths, and this was a fire pit.”

  Mr. Cates’s chest puffed out. “I read in one of the Natural History Museum publications that the Aztecs kept a continuous fire burning in hopes to bring back their Eternal King, Montezuma.”

  “That may be true, but the Navajo believe that these and other ruins like them belonged to the Anasazi—the ancient ones, or enemy ancestors.”

  Cates swiped his hand along his forehead, mocking the traditional Navajo headband that Yiska had worn since they entered Navajo land. “I suppose you can trust this uneducated half breed above esteemed archaeologists.” He looked around at the group smugly.

  “You do know then, Mr. Cates, that anthropologists are now consulting with the Navajo and other tribes, like the Paiutes, to quantify their theories,” Mr. Mattheson said.

  “Well, it’s neither here nor there.”

  “I beg to differ with you,” Papa said. “We have much to learn from the past. About ourselves. The future.”

  How unusual for Papa to speak this way. He seldom looked back, but lately he had spent much time in conversation with Mr. Mattheson, reminiscing she hoped, discussing the reason Mr. Mattheson had left his calling. Papa positioned a camera and took a few photographs of the interior of the chamber.

  “Mr. Cates, do you have any experience with cameras?” Eliana asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve learned a little about photography during my tenure with the Atlantic Monthly.”

  Eliana eyed her father, who stood near Mr. Mattheson and Yiska. “Well then, perhaps you wouldn’t mind taking a group photograph of the four of us. Then I’ll be happy to take one of you, of course.”

  Mr. Cates acceded. “Ah, yes, of course.”

  Yiska and Eliana explored the many rooms of the immense stone fortress, talking as they climbed over piles of rubble, ancient steps, and dim passageways. Van Horn and Mattheson had returned to camp with Sampson, who had faithfully lugged their equipment to the site. The fact that her father entrusted Eliana to Yiska’s care meant a great deal to him.

  “Why do you think these dwellings were abandoned?” Eliana asked.

  “One can only speculate. Drought maybe? Depleted resources. Maybe even war. There are other ruins similar to this. One is just ten miles south of here. And sixty-five miles farther, there’s a much larger ruin in the Chaco Canyon,” Yiska said.

  “Larger than this?” she asked.

  “Ten miles wide. The dwellings rise up five levels with grand arches and ornamentation.”

  Eliana tilted her dimpled chin. “How do you know so much?”

  “I’ve met a lot of people in my travels, and I read as much as I can. I wish I could take you there. You could take pictures and show them to the world. You’d become famous.”

  Eliana laughed. “And you would write all about it and become known to all as an expert journalist. You would no longer be the Anonymous Explorer, but the esteemed Yiska Wilcox.”

  He stood a little taller and suppressed a smile. “I do know this—the correspondent who writes about the Chaco Canyon ruins will make quite a name for himself. Mr. Robbins was good enough to give us time here while the animals rest today, so I guess we’ll have to be content exploring the impressive Aztec Ruins.” And perhaps to discover the unexplored territory of Eliana’s heart.

  They turned a corner and entered a long corridor of rooms connected by a passageway of successive doorways. Eliana grabbed Yiska’s hand. “Come on, let’s see.” As they approached the doorway, she slipped her hand out of his, ran ahead, and ducked behind a wall.

  Yiska caught up with the mischievous explorer, finding her with hands pressed against the wall behind her, taking in heavy breaths amidst intermittent giggles. He trapped her against the cool stones, one hand on either side of her, and tried to catch his breath. After a moment they both relaxed, but he didn’t move his arms. Nor did she object. Yiska leaned toward Eliana and placed his mouth upon hers, the timeless moment blazing like the hot New Mexico sun.

  He pulled away from her, his heart racing like a herd of wild horses. He forced himself to withdraw from her intense gaze. His eyes locked on a spot in the stonework behind her. “Fingerprints.”

  Eliana blinked. “What?”

  “There are fingerprints of the builders in the mortar, right there.” Yiska pointed his chin.

  Eliana turned to look, still enclosed in the prison of his arms. He wasn’t ready to release her just yet.

  “Imagine, after all these years. Someone has left a permanent mark.” Eliana turned back around, back still against the wall.

  Sh
e tilted her head up, and Yiska admired the graceful arch of her neck. He stroked the smooth skin with a feather-light touch, following her gaze to the ceiling. “Those are original timbers, still in place after all this time.” Leave it to him to spoil the mood, prompting her to slip down under his arm and make her escape.

  Eliana skipped away, passing through a few doorways. Yiska followed at a slower pace. Let her play her game—he intended to win. But as she passed through the next doorway, Cates jumped into her way, blocking her path.

  “Out of the way,” Yiska commanded.

  “I just want to have a word with the pretty lady.” Cates feigned innocence. “What are you doing spending your time with a novice like him when you could enjoy this fine day with me?”

  Yiska put his hand on his hatchet. “You don’t know who you’re up against.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Wilcox,” the weasel said.

  “I’m not speaking about me. It’s Miss Van Horn that you need to worry about.”

  Eliana turned back and flashed Yiska a smile. She put her hands on her hips. “Let us pass, Mr. Cates. We have work to do.”

  After dusk Eliana and her father finished processing photographs from the day using their small portable darkroom under the shelter of their tent. Eliana opened the door flaps to let the remainder of the evening light in. “I almost forgot to mention, we found Anasazi fingerprints in a stone wall today.”

  “That’s a remarkable find. It’s unfortunate something like that is too small to photograph,” Papa said, wiping his hands on his canvas apron. “Harland found an ancient relic.”

  “I’ll have to take a look when I’m done.” Eliana went outside and sat on a stool at a worktable and wiped the dust from the equipment. “I’m so glad you allowed me to come on this expedition, Papa. I’m discovering so much about the world and myself.” Foremost in her mind, the discovery she had made today about her feelings for Yiska. The warmth that spread from her toes all the way to her cheeks when he’d kissed her had taken her by surprise—and she hadn’t even been blushing at the time. Was this what it was like to be in love?