Red Hawk's Woman

by Karen Kay

  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.

  Chapter Twenty

  “You will come no farther!” shouted Red Hawk to the Thunder Being, as he stood his ground on the prairie, his lance lifted upward and his bow held ready. “I know that you stalk my wife. I know you are trying to keep her from being successful because she might help my people. But I will not let you near her. So long as I exist, I will keep you from her.”

  Stepping forward, the Thunder Being laughed at him. “Each day you challenge me, little warrior. Each day you walk away. You talk big. You do little.”

  “Stay away from her camp!”

  “Or you’ll what? Walk away? Again? Yell at me?”

  “Do not tempt me. Were it not for the love for my grandfather and for his people—”

  “I am tired of your words,” said the Thunder Being. “Let us begin this fight. Long have you sought your revenge. Now, come take it.” The Thunder Being beckoned Red Hawk forward.

  Red Hawk stood his ground. “I cannot do it and save my people, and well you know it. So I will show you mercy, instead.” His lips spat out the word mercy as though it were a nasty one.

  The Thunder Being merely laughed, although he did retreat. Taking his black clouds and his lightning bolts with him, he set his path for somewhere besides Effie’s camp. At least for the time being. Tomorrow would be another day.

  “Haiya!” Red Hawk used the word as though he were swearing. The Thunderer baited him. Though Red Hawk would stand his ground and show mercy, as he must, everything within him rebelled.

  “Someday,” he said to the heavens. “We will battle. I swear it.”

  It must have been around midnight by the time the sky finally darkened. However, this place was so far in the northern regions of the country that even when night finally fell over the land, it seemed no more dusky than a dim version of early evening.

  At last, Effie blew out the light of her candle, and setting down her pen, she stretched. There was still much to do, for this site abounded in artifacts, many of them quite old.

  So far they had found several ancient arrowhead points, most of which were made from bone or flint. There were also various buffalo skulls and bones, some beads, some well-preserved hides, knives made of bone and flint, and yesterday, Madeline and her husband had found some awls fashioned of bone, as well as one buffalo-horn spoon.

  The last had been quite a find, and Madeline had asked to clean it, which Effie had been only too glad to allow.

  However, to date nothing had been found that resembled the artifacts she still carried on her person.

  Effie was beginning to wonder if she and the others were on a wild-goose chase.

  Amazingly enough, the heat of the day remained with them into the evening. It was an unusual circumstance here in the far reaches of the Montana Territory. Because the area wasn’t known for its humidity, once the sun retreated from the sky, the atmosphere and the land usually cooled.

  Maybe she had become too accustomed to it doing so. Whatever was the case, Effie suddenly yearned for a midnight swim.

  Ah, to feel the gentle rush of water over her heat-soaked body. She only wished Red Hawk were here. But he wasn’t, she reminded herself, and she wasn’t going to restrict herself because of that absence, either.

  It would be a perfect chance to bathe, since at this time of night everyone else was usually asleep. Surely she’d be safe enough to allow herself a quick dip, and perhaps, if she were brave enough, a brisk bath in the nude.

  Sighing, she rose from her desk, shuffling through her papers and placing the more important notes neatly inside folders, which she promptly stored away. After grabbing hold of her shawl, she left her tent.

  Glancing up toward the sky, she looked for the Big Dipper to tell her not only direction, but the time. If she were right, it looked to be well after midnight. Perhaps, to another, midnight was not such a perfect time to swim. To some, the evening might hold shadows, phantoms and fears.

 
But Effie had become accustomed to the trail, to the wild, and had found that the late evenings, instead of frightening her, endowed her with a feeling of independence, to say nothing of allowing her privacy.

  Besides, something in the air tonight pulled at her, encouraging her to let go, to come to the water.

  Drawing in a breath of the warm night, she stepped toward the great Missouri River, heading to a particular pool that was caught off in a nook. One that was surrounded by willows and pine. In her youth she had used it often, it being the same place where she had first met Red Hawk.

  The grasses were dew covered, wet and cool against her slippers, and she fretted that the bottom of her dress would pay the price for her tête-à-tête with the river. But she wasn’t about to let a little dew stop her.

  At last she arrived. As she bent down to test the water with her fingers, a deep voice behind her said, “I thought you were never going to come. Because I saw you working, I decided not to disturb you, but I have waited here the evening through.”

  She gasped and jumped, but she wasn’t frightened, if only because she was well aware of exactly who had spoken to her. As she drank in the sight of him, she said, “I wonder if I shall ever get used to your sneaking up on me.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he opened his arms wide.

  As though one were the magnet for the other, they fell into each other’s embrace. While he rained kisses over her face and cheeks, he ran his hands up, down and over her back, her hips, her neck, her hair.

  “I have missed you,” he said.

  “And I, you,” she responded. “I had begun to worry that you had forgotten about me.”

  “Forgotten? Could a mountain forget her streams and forests? A lake her fish and currents? You are as much a part of me now as these things are to a mountain or a lake. How could I ever forget you?”

  She sighed. “You have been gone so long.”

  “Fourteen or fifteen suns. That is all.”