“They are called kiva fireplaces,” replied Josita.
“Kiva,” Amanda repeated.
Amanda picked up a clay figure of a native woman with her mouth open. Small children perched on her knees, shoulders and all around her.
“How cute! I love this. Did you make it?”
“Yes, it is a storyteller. I make all my own storytellers as did my mother and grandmother before me. Clay storytellers represent the tradition of sharing stories with the future generations. Our language is not written down. It is only passed on through stories.” Josita pointed to an assortment of figures. “If you look carefully, each one is different.”
“I just have to buy one of these because I’m a storyteller too.” Amanda studied the collection.
“Cleo, which one should I buy?” She glanced around the shop. “Cleo? Cleo, where are you?”
9
AMANDA PAID FOR THE STORYTELLER IN HER HAND AND LEFT the shop. She scanned the pueblo and spotted Cleo beside a clay oven, chatting to a man in a straw hat. When she got closer, she recognized Frank, the painter she met in town. Cleo munched on a cookie.
“Hello, Amanda.” Frank held out a plate of pastries. “Would you like one? I just baked them in this centuries-old horno.”
Amanda helped herself to a warm cookie and took a bite. “Mmmm. This is so good. Thanks.”
“I live in the pueblo, over there.” Frank nodded his head. “We share these outdoor ovens and bake our bread, cakes and pastries in them.” Amanda noticed clay ovens scattered around the pueblo in front of many houses. “It looks like it did when the conquistadors first arrived, except for the doors. They have been added. At one time, ladders were the only way to get into the homes through openings in the flat rooftops. This was for safety. If an enemy approached, the ladders were pulled up and stored on the roofs. We don’t have electricity or running water. In this sacred village, we live as our ancestors did.”
Amanda couldn’t imagine not having electricity or running water. “Where do you get your water from?”
“Red Willow Creek.” Frank pointed to a stream, lined with wispy willows, running through the middle of the pueblo. “Legend tells of an eagle that dropped two feathers, one on each side of the river, a sign for the ancient people to build the village at this spot.”
“How many people live here?” asked Amanda.
“About one hundred and fifty, year round. More live here during the summer months. Make sure you get some fry bread from Maria and visit more artists. If you have any questions, I’ll be around. Enjoy your visit.” Frank nodded his head and walked away.
“This place is so cool!!” Amanda finished off her cookie and licked her fingers. “Where should we go next?”
“I think I’ll just sit on that bench over there by the creek and do some sketching. It looks so peaceful with the willow trees bending over it.”
“It sure does. I want to go into more of the shops, so I’ll see you back here.”
Amanda had a good time visiting with the artists in their homes. They made her feel so welcome. She approached an open blue door and stepped inside. A fire glowed in the kiva fireplace.
“Hello?” Amanda called.
No one answered.
“Hello! Is anyone here?”
She glanced around. Rustic hand woven baskets littered the floor and dream catchers hung on the whitewashed walls. Hand painted cards and colourful plates adorned a shelf. A small table stood in the entrance. On it sat a cozy-covered teapot, Styrofoam cups, and a note. Amanda picked it up and read it.
Stepped out for a few minutes.
Enjoy my art and help yourself to some warm tea.
‘Wow, the person who lives here is sure trusting. What if someone came in and stole something?’
Amanda shivered. A gust of wind blew in. The door banged shut and the lights went out. The place became dark and scary. A creaking sound came from the roof. Amanda pulled the door but it wouldn’t open. Something like a feather touched the back of her neck. She stood frozen.
Her breath, tight with fear, came in gasps. She had to get out—fast.
She remembered what Frank said about the rooftop entrances. She fumbled in the dark until she found the stairs. Clambering up them on all fours, she came to an opening in the ceiling. With one push, the glass cover opened onto the flat roof, empty except for a small potted cactus. Amanda’s head whipped around to peer back down the stairs. She took a shallow breath. No one followed her and no one was on the roof. The top of a ladder poked up from the wall. She sprinted over to it, tripping over the cactus.
“Ouch!”
A sharp needle pricked her leg. She picked herself up and limped to the ladder. It didn’t look very sturdy. Clinging to the rungs, she gingerly climbed down. At the bottom, she bumped hard into someone.
Amanda’s hair stood up at the back of her neck. She hesitated, then turned around. That someone turned out to be Caleb.
“Amanda, wassup? You’re not supposed to be climbing on the buildings, you know. Don’t you just love this place! I got so many great pictures. How’s your knee by the way? That was a nasty gash.”
Amanda let out a breath and smiled. “It’s fine. Doesn’t hardly hurt anymore.” Glad to see a friendly face, she steered him away from the scary house. “There are tons of things to take pictures of here.”
“Where is your weird friend?” Caleb asked.
“If you mean Cleo, she’s over by the creek, drawing. You shouldn’t tease her, you know. She has issues.”
“Like what?”
“Like she suffers from anxiety and stuff.”
“Sorry, didn’t know.” Caleb shrugged. “I liked the story you wrote on Kidblog. I knew right away it was about her seeing that statue in the garden and thinking it was a ghost.”
It must have been because of her story that Cleo got teased that morning. Amanda felt sick, she knew it was her fault.
Caleb stopped in front of a door with a sign:
FRY BREAD FOR SALE
“Let’s get some fry bread.” He pushed the door open. The smoky smell of hot oil greeted them. “Can we buy some fry bread, please?”
“Of course,” said a woman with a long black braid over one shoulder.
The woman picked up a ball of dough and pressed it flat between her hands. She stretched it out with her fingers until it was as large and thin as a pizza shell and placed it in a pot of hot oil. The dough sputtered and crackled. When it turned a toasty brown, she removed it with tongs and placed it on a paper towel. The woman made the second one the same way, then placed the two pieces of fry bread on paper plates. “Careful,” she said. “It’s hot.”
Amanda and Caleb sat outside at a table made out of an old barrel with a round piece of plywood on top. They poured honey over the warm bread.
“Yum, this is so good!” Amanda bit into the crisp, yet chewy bread.
Caleb nodded in agreement then stopped. “Wait. Don’t take another bite.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I need to take a picture.”
“Well, hurry up.”
After they finished, they wandered around, taking more pictures.
Caleb stepped behind a house and shouted, “Look at this, Amanda.”
Amanda spotted a No Entry sign. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”
“I’ll just take a couple of pictures.”
Amanda’s scalp prickled as she walked around the house to Caleb. He was aiming his camera at a circular enclosure made of poles. Two long poles stuck out from the middle.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” A large hand grabbed her shoulder. “Didn’t you see the sign?”
Amanda flinched and turned around. Scowling at her was the man who had been so angry with them at the St. Francis church.
When he saw Caleb, his face turned lobster red. “And you, you are not allowed to take pictures. This is a sacred site.” He reached for the camera.
Caleb pressed it close to his che
st with both hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. We’ll leave now.”
The man grabbed the boy’s arm. “You kids are nothing but trouble.”
“Leave the boy alone.” Frank came up behind them. “They came in here by accident. It isn’t a very big sign.”
The man released his hold on Caleb and glared at Frank.
Frank ignored him and motioned to Amanda and Caleb. “You kids need to come with me, now. Your friend fell into the creek.”
10
THEY RACED BACK TO THE CREEK. CLEO, SOAKING WET, shivering and sobbing, stood beside Ms. Bowler.
“What happened?” Amanda asked. “When I last saw you, you were sitting on the bench drawing.”
“Sh—she pushed me,” Cleo said through chattering teeth.
“What? Who pushed you?” Amanda looked around.
A woman brought a blanket and gently wrapped it around Cleo. “Bring her into my shop. I have a fire going and some hot chocolate.”
“That’s very kind of you,” replied Ms. Bowler. “Thanks so much.”
“Unbelievable!” Amanda looked at Frank. “Who would push her into the water?”
He shrugged. “Might have been one of the other kids playing a prank.”
“Well, that’d be pretty mean.” Amanda followed Cleo and the teacher into a shop scented with the sweet smell of soaps and lotions.
The owner of the shop, Estrellita, gave everyone hot chocolate. Amanda noticed the colourful paintings on the wall depicting scenes from the pueblo.
“I just love your shop. Who did the paintings?”
“I did. The paintings, sculptures and pottery are all made by me. In my spare time, I make my own soaps and lotions.” She handed Amanda a bar of soap that smelled like strawberries, mint and chocolate.
“You’re a really talented artist.”
“I am an artist, but my most important job is being a mother to my three children. My husband and I are raising them here in the pueblo so they will know their heritage firsthand.”
“That is so cool.” She sniffed the soap. “Mmm, this soap smells good enough to eat. I think I’ll buy some for my mom. She’d love it.” Talking to Estrellita made Amanda think of her mom and how she would enjoy visiting a shop like this.
She walked over to Cleo. “Are you warming up? You know the sign says to stay out of the creek since it’s the residents’ only source of drinking water.”
Cleo managed a weak smile. “I was just drawing a picture of the creek when that girl came and pushed me in. I don’t know why.”
“What girl?”
“The girl in the white dress that’s been following me around. You know, the one I drew at the hacienda.” Cleo sighed. “I thought she liked me.”
Amanda raised her eyebrows. Not sure what to say, she just patted Cleo’s hand. “We don’t have much time left and I still want to see the church and the graveyard.”
“Go ahead. I’ll be all right. I’m safe and warm here.” Cleo took another sip of hot chocolate.
Amanda stepped outside. She looked around for Caleb, but he was nowhere to be seen. The wind got colder and stronger. She zipped up her jacket and pulled the hood over her head, glad she’d listened to Ms. Bowler’s advice.
She took pictures of the San Geronimo church and then continued on to a ruin tucked behind houses. Crumbling gravestones and weathered wooden crosses were scattered around the remainder of a damaged brick bell tower. Among the weeds lay broken gravestones and crosses that had fallen over. Amanda felt a sudden sadness wash over her.
She pulled out her map and guide. It explained that the ruin was the original San Geronimo church, destroyed by the soldiers in retaliation for Governor Bent’s murder. Only the battered bell tower remained standing. The graves belonged to the many who lost their lives in the fight.
The sun went behind a cloud. Tall grass leaped around the crosses as the wind whistled a mournful tune.
Amanda shuddered. A harsh breeze pushed her forward. Looking up at the sky, Amanda felt the wind push her again and she tripped over a rock. She stumbled hard into the low adobe brick wall surrounding the cemetery. Another shove sent her right over the fence. Her head hit a fallen brick. She saw stars before everything went black.
She woke up, surrounded by crosses. Her head hurt. It took a few minutes to remember where she was. At first, she thought she had been dreaming. Amanda struggled to stand up. She held onto a cross. It fell over.
“Hey! You! What are you doing in there?”
An angry man waved his arms and shouted. He appeared all blurry. Amanda realized she was no longer wearing her glasses. She squinted and spotted them lying under another cross. She knelt down to pick them up.
“No point trying to hide, I can see you. Can’t you read the signs? It says not to climb on any structures. It also says not to enter the graveyard.”
Amanda stood up. When he got closer, she recognized the same angry man they had encountered earlier. She backed away.
“You! You are nothing but trouble!” Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her out of the cemetery.
Amanda struggled to put on her glasses with one hand. “Ow, you’re hurting me. Let me go!”
“Not until I take you to your teacher. I have had it with you kids poking your nose where you shouldn’t.” The man dragged Amanda back to Estrellita’s shop.
Ms. Bowler looked up and gasped as they entered. “What is it? What’s happened to you, Amanda?”
Amanda opened her mouth to speak, but the man bellowed, “This girl was in the graveyard, crawling around the crosses and causing damage. I caught her earlier at a sacred site with her buddy taking pictures!” His face turned scarlet and his nostrils flared like an angry bull. “This cannot be tolerated. These kids have no respect.” He tightened his grip on her arm.
“Take it easy, Jim.” Estrellita put her hand on his shoulder. “Let go of the girl.”
The man released his hold. Amanda rubbed her arm and stared at the floor.
Ms. Bowler said, “I am so sorry.” She pressed her lips tight and closed her eyes for a minute. “Come on everyone, I think it’s time for us to leave.” She frowned at Amanda and shook her head. “I am very disappointed in you, Amanda Ross. I expected you to be more respectful.”
Amanda wanted to explain, but who would believe the wind blew her into the cemetery? Her head throbbed. If only a hole would open up in the floor and she could just disappear into it. With hunched shoulders and burning cheeks, she trailed behind the others, wishing she were anywhere but there.
11
AMANDA SAT ALONE, SLUMPED IN A CORNER OF A SEAT IN the back of the bus, fighting back tears. ‘What’s going on? Who pushed me into the graveyard? I didn’t see anyone. Why are all these crazy things happening?’ She sniffled. ‘Now Ms. Bowler is mad at me.’
Amanda hated upsetting people; first Cleo and now her favourite teacher. She wished her travelling buddy, Leah, was with her. Sure, sometimes they got in a jam but at least they could rely on each other. For the first time ever on a holiday, she wished she was at home.
The bus stopped. Amanda had not been paying attention to where they were going. She looked out the window. They were parked in front of a large bridge crossing a deep ravine. Everyone got off the bus. Amanda didn’t move.
Ms. Bowler approached her. “We are at the Rio Grande Gorge, Amanda. Come and have a look.”
“No, thanks,” Amanda mumbled and huddled closer into the corner. “I’ll only get in trouble, again.”
“Look, I don’t know what happened at the pueblo. It’s so unlike you to get into trouble, but I don’t want this to spoil the trip for you. Bring your camera and take a few pictures. You will want to write about this. Your story last night was excellent, by the way. I’m going to submit it to a writing contest—although we might change it up a little, you know, to protect the innocent.” Ms. Bowler winked.
Amanda straightened up and smiled. “Really?”
“Come on, let’s join the others.” The
teacher patted Amanda’s hand.
They met Mr. Samson and the rest of the students by the bridge. “This gorge is two hundred and forty metres deep and eighty kilometres long,” the teacher explained. “It is also the site of many ancient petroglyphs. There are supposed to be hidden ruins and hot springs at the bottom.”
Amanda squinted as she peered down. The river at the bottom slithered through rocks and trees. The wind whipped her hair around and pushed at her back. Amanda gripped the railing. She didn’t want to be pushed into the canyon the way she was shoved into the graveyard. It was a long way down. Her stomach quivered.
Mr. Samson pointed to the bridge. “Spanning the ravine is the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge which is the seventh highest bridge in the United States. It crosses the Rio Grande, which means Great River. For some unknown reason, there have been many suicides from this bridge. Studies are being conducted to see how these can be prevented.”
A chill went through Amanda and she felt dizzy.
“You can walk along the bridge and take pictures if you wish,” suggested Ms. Bowler. “Stay on the sidewalk. Remember, this is a highway.”
Caleb ran ahead and stopped at a lookout. “Oh, man. This is fantastic!” He clicked away. “Amanda, get over here. You can get the best shots from this side.”
Clenching the rail and fighting the wind, Amanda made her way to the viewpoint. The spectacular scene was like something on a TV travel show. She relaxed a bit and pulled out her camera to take some pictures, staying away from the railing.
Caleb hung over the rail to get a better shot.
“Don’t fall!” Cleo screamed. “Someone fell from there recently.”
Caleb moved back from the rail and shouted. “Chillax, why don’t you, Cleo.” He looked at Amanda. “What is with her? How did she know someone fell from here?” He touched his head. “Headcase, I tell you. Totally crazy.”
“Maybe she is just concerned about you,” Amanda countered.
“Ya, right. I think she’s three tomatoes short of a salad if you ask me.”
“OK, kids! Back on the bus,” called out Mr. Samson.
Amanda in New Mexico Page 4