“Okay,” said Bishop, “we can’t do anything here so let’s head home. They must have chosen to move somewhere else where they felt they had a better chance of survival, even if it was a sudden decision. At least for now I can assume that they’re all right.
“Should we look through the house and see if there’s anything we might be able to use?” asked Tanner.
“No,” responded Bishop, almost brusquely. “They may come back for more of their goods later and I don’t want them to find their home ransacked, at least not by us.”
As they prepared to leave, Bishop took a peek in the garage and noted that the Caldwell’s black Cadillac Escalade SUV gone. And, he saw something else.
He closed the front door behind him and as he walked to the Jeep he got a quizzical look from Tanner and Philip.
“I thought you weren’t going to take anything,” Tanner inquired, “especially a set of golf clubs.”
“I don’t think Jonas will be playing golf anytime soon,” replied Bishop, “and, if he does, I’ll replace the clubs with a brand new set at no charge. This will save us a trip to my house.” He offered no other explanation as he put the clubs in the rear of the Jeep and they left for home.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Once they had reclosed the maintenance yard behind them and returned to the village, Philip hiked out on the mesa to join Jack and Matt installing the water line and Tanner joined Colby, Travis, and Bud building the greenhouse.
Bishop found Carly with some of the women moving clothing and linens to the two large closets that would house the communal goods. They were careful to keep the clothes and shoes that their own families would use in the closets in their respective living areas. She’s nothing if not organized, reflected Bishop. When she saw him watching she went over to him and gave him a peck on the cheek and he put his arm around her and led her to a nearby couch.
Bishop explained what they had found at the Caldwell’s home and his surmise as to what had happened. She could tell from the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes that he was experiencing some relief from the guilt he had earlier felt and, now, she too recognized that it was this guilt that had been plaguing him, not only this morning, but for days before.
He gave her a quick hug and headed out the door with some spring in his step; a sure sign he was feeling better.
Bishop went to the storage tent and, finding a hacksaw, began cutting the heads off the golf clubs he had freed from the dark of the Caldwell’s garage, leaving only the grip and 18 inches of shaft. He never was very good anyway, thought Bishop, and now his club’s will make a significant contribution to our community. When he had removed all the heads, he spray painted the grips of the clubs with orange paint he had found in Cole’s trailer. While they dried, he went up to the greenhouse to see how things were going there.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Bishop wasn’t prepared for what he saw as he approached the new greenhouse project. The kiva looked almost pristine, as the Sinagua would have left it, sans a roof. Any stones that had fallen out of the large circular wall had been replaced and, where needed, the wall had been chinked using cement mixed with red rock dust to match the original coloration. It seems Colby still has an aesthetic eye he mused. There were a series of niches in the wall around the perimeter of the kiva. Tanner said they were used for religious items and, in the center of the kiva floor, just south of the center pole, was a raised fire pit that Tate was in the midst of removing. Four stone pedestals stood against the wall of the kiva, marking the four corners of a square, where the Sinagua had placed supports for the roof structure, as well as one in the center. Each of the pedestals were four feet high and appeared to be in perfect condition. You could still see a clay-lined cup in the middle of each pedestal where the support poles had stood.
A string grid had been strung out on a north-south, east-west orientation forming ten foot grids that extended five feet beyond the perimeter of the kiva at the center point of each side. The orientation was extremely important in order to take advantage of the sun as it moved across the horizon each day, both for plants and for the solar panels that would be mounted on the roof. Rebar had been used to mark the exterior of the 40 foot square and to stretch the string grid. Each place that the north-south and east-west grid strings crossed they had hung another string using a paper clip at the top and a large nut at the bottom, a poor man’s plumb-bob. Where the nut touched the floor of the kiva a piece of rebar had been tapped into the floor. There were nine of these markers and, with the four markers along each side of the square, they now had the location of all the posts needed to ultimately support the roof and wall structure of the greenhouse.
Interestingly, the five stone pedestals were within inches of where the string grid would have placed them, so Colby made adjustments in order to use the pedestals. Colby also estimated that they had carried in some very long logs, at least 15-16 feet long, probably from the pine forests several miles away to the north, to reach from the center pole to the four corner posts. Also, he assumed, the roof did not rest on the ground level edge of the kiva or they wouldn’t have needed the four outside pedestals, at least not to his way of thinking, so those ridge poles would have had to be even longer, but he couldn’t conceive of how the roof had been built. In addition, they apparently used only five supports where he had planned on using nine. He wondered to himself, who were the better builders? Based on the location of the pedestals it was apparent those early builders were also using the same north-south orientation as Colby for some reason. Colby guessed that because the promontory and the pueblo units they built on it had that same orientation it made sense to orient the kiva the same way; but it was purely a guess. They also discovered that when they put a string level on the ground around the kiva and on the kiva floor both were almost perfectly level, another testament to the engineering and construction skills of the Sinagua.
Bud, Cole, Tanner, and Jason were busy digging the holes into which the poles would be set, making sure each one was just one foot deep. They were using post-hole diggers, picks, and shovels to break through the compacted crust and the rock debris that had originally been used to backfill the area around the kiva by the Sinagua. Bud saw Bishop watching and offered him a shovel, but Bishop declined, reluctantly of course, on the basis that he had things to do and had just stopped by to see their progress. Bud laughed and waved him away.
Bishop then stopped at the temporary greenhouse where Travis was focused on planting and trimming trays of plants they had moved earlier. Each plant was handled with tenderness and Bishop marveled at Travis’ attentiveness to his task. Every square inch of space was occupied by a planter bed and wires were strung upward from the ground to horizontal wires to accommodate tomatoes and beans that would form planter walls. He had never seen so much farming in such a small space. The plastic greenhouse sides were rolled up, as was the plastic covering the screened doors at either end, allowing maximum ventilation for the plants. Bishop noticed that the bees were happily flying around in the greenhouse attending to anything that had a flower on it. There were several rows of potted fruit and decorative trees of varying sizes lined up in rows outside the greenhouse structure, as well. One of the lemon trees actually had fruit on it.
Travis spotted Bishop and called him over. Bishop gingerly moved toward Travis, ever alert to the “friendly” bees buzzing around.
Travis showed Bishop how the irrigation system would work, using water from one of the 250-gallon storage tanks they had moved into the tent and placed on a raised stand built of 2x4s, and indicated how he would run drip hoses to allow water to drip into the planters and the plant walls next door. “But, for now,” he said, “I’m watering all the plants by hand. I think once the water system is operational, and Jack runs a line down here with a hose bib, I’ll be able to lay out some soaker hoses to do the watering and I’ll only have to do spot watering by hand. But…” he said, drifting on to another thought.
“This isn’t
the most ideal growing environment,” he said, “but it will have to do until next spring when we should be able to move everything into the new greenhouse and build our aquaponics system. I have enough chemicals and additives to give us a reasonable yield throughout the coming winter, as long as we can operate the heaters, but we’ll get six to eight times the yield with the aquaponics system and the larger greenhouse. At least, this way, we’ll have some fresh greens, tomatoes, beans, cucumbers, and a small amount of fruit, until then.”
“I’m impressed, Travis,” said Bishop. “You’re going to be an important cog in our village machinery. In fact, you’re already an important cog. You’ll need to recruit some of our people to help you and to gain an understanding of the processes and techniques you’ll use to sustain our food supply.”
“I know,” said Travis, “we can’t afford to have our technical knowledge in the hands of just a few, especially at our age. We’ll need some of the younger blood to apprentice with us old codgers.”
“I wouldn’t have said it exactly that way,” Bishop chortled, “but yes, we need to diversify our talent pool while we have the opportunity.”
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Imagine the surprise shown by Jack, Matt, and to some degree by Philip, as Bishop showed up at the water line trench carrying 13 sawed off golf clubs with brightly painted orange grips tucked under one arm and carrying a hammer in his other hand. “I came to mark the trench line,” he said, showing Jack and his crew the sawed off golf clubs.
“You ruined a perfectly good set of golf clubs?” Jack inquired with a smile.
“Of course,” responded Bishop, “but don’t worry, they weren’t mine,” he said with a laugh. “I think they’ll be more useful here than gathering dust in my friend’s garage.” And with that he continued walking until he arrived at the storage tank by the pools.
He paced off 30 strides and then hammered one golf club into the mesa a foot beyond the trench. Then he paced off 30 more strides and did the same, repeating this exercise 13 more times before he ended up just below the two tanks at the promontory. Knowing he only had 13 golf clubs and knowing the approximate distance between the storage tanks at either end of the water line, he had calculated the distance between each stake. He passed Jacks crew short of halfway, just said, “Howdy fellas,” and kept going.
Jack and his crew were carefully laying the PVC in the trench, gluing the couplings and giving them a quarter turn to set the glue and lock the joints. As they laid the pipe in the trench they made sure it was lying flat and placed small flats stones along both sides to hold it in place. If there were voids under the pipe they filled them by hand. Once they had leak tested the line they would then come back and backfill the trench. At the two points Jack had determined he would install shut-off valves, they built rock cairns to mark the locations. I’ll build cairns around the golf club markers later, too, he thought, because they’ll last a lot longer, but I don’t want to steal Bishop’s thunder. His markers will do just fine until we get around to building the cairns. Being able to easily and quickly locate the valves in an emergency would be critical. He built a box of flat rocks around and over the valves so they wouldn’t get buried. It would take them the rest of the day to finish laying the water line.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
When Bishop returned to the village he could hear the sound of a sewing machine, women’s voices, and the laughter of children coming from the Meeting Hall. As he entered the tent he saw some of the women folding the dried bedding they had removed from the clothes lines, talking animatedly. As Carly spotted Bishop she waved him in.
“We were just talking about how dirty the tent floors were getting and what a mess they’ll be when the rains start,” reported Carly. “We need to remind everyone to make sure we all take our shoes off at the entrance and only wear slippers or our stocking feet in the tents or we’ll never get them clean. We’d like you to remind everyone tonight at dinner, dear,” she said charmingly.
“Okay,” he responded, “that’s a good idea and we shouldn’t have a problem getting everyone to comply. We probably ought to start that at breakfast in the morning so it will become a habit.”
“That’s a good idea, too,” said Carly. “Some of the ladies are already sweeping out the tents now and if we can catch the men before they enter the tents tonight it sure would help.”
“Just put a monitor at each doorway and that should do it until we can discuss it tonight at dinner,” Bishop replied.
Bishop turned toward Celeste who was busy working on the sewing machine that was plugged into the generator.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“Manny and Javi came to us with nothing but the clothes on their backs so I’m altering some of Todd and Kiera’s clothes to fit them. Tess and Olivia are about the same size so they can share clothes but Manny and Javi were just too small. I thought I’d better do it so we can wash the clothes they’re wearing and get them some spares while we still have the generator running.”
“That’s really great,” Bishop said. “I’m sure the little ones will appreciate it,” he said as he motioned towards the children being occupied by Tara and Mattie at the far end of the tent.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Ellen Solano said, from the table where she was folding blankets. “Jessie, Kathleen and I were talking about taking a walk down to the creek to see if we can find any clay. There must be a lot around here somewhere because the natives used so much in their construction. It would help in the rebuilding of the walls of the pueblos and I’d sure like some to try my hand at making some pottery. We don’t have much left to do here so I thought it would be a productive use of our time. We could sure use an escort,” she concluded.
“Well,” responded Bishop, “it just so happens I have some free time on my hands too, so I’d be happy to be your escort. Just let me know when you’re ready to go.”
“How about right now?” she answered. “We’ll just get a bucket, a shovel and trowel, and some drinking water and we’ll be ready.”
“Okay,” said Bishop, “I’ll join you in a minute.” He went to his tent, leaving his shoes on because he could see it had not yet been cleaned. He retrieved his pistol from under his bed pillow and stuck it in his waistband, rejoined Ellen and the girls, and headed for the back of the promontory. On the way past the kiva they told Bud, Colby and Tanner where they were going and told them they’d be back in time for the evening swim. Bishop could tell that Jason wanted badly to go with them, or more specifically with Kathleen, but a stern look from his father quickly settled the issue before it ever came up. They needed him digging holes more than they needed him walking around with Kathleen.
◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ ◘
Ellen seemed to be in her element as she wandered along the edge of the creek bed below the swimming area, carrying the bucket and trowel and poking here and there to test the soil. Bishop carried the shovel and the two girls each carried a water bottle.
“What are we looking for?” asked Bishop. “And don’t say ‘clay,’ because that’s understood. Are there any clues to help in the search?”
“I know this country is rich in clay because of the kinds of soil we have, but sometimes it’s buried. I’m looking for signs of clay on the surface. It will appear shiny and slick if it’s damp but will curl up in large flakes if it’s over dry. Truth be told, Bish,” she said, “I just thought it would be nice to take a stroll in the woods.” A broad smile spread across her face to which all the others responded in kind.
“Let’s just walk along the creek and keep our eyes peeled. If you slip on something really slick and end up on your backside, we might just find some clay there,” she said, chuckling, “or cow pies.”
They had gone downstream some 200 yards, stopping occasionally for Ellen to poke at the soil, pick some up and rub it between her fingers, and spitting on it before rubbing it some more, before she stopped suddenly and pointed across the creek. They were roughly where the creek o
verflowed its banks during high water events and made a broad flood plain of Woods Canyon. Because the creek made a slight turn to the right at this point it had cut the opposite bank, which now stood several feet back from the current creek channel. At the base of the cut bluff was a patch of cracked and curled soil, like you see when a small low area dries out after having held some water for a while and is then parched.
Ellen crossed the stream, not even thinking about her shoes, which were submerged as the water reached her calves. She picked up some of the curled soil and again rubbed, spit, and rubbed it again. This time it left a gooey residue on her fingers.
By then the other three had waded across the creek, trying to use stepping stones to keep their shoes dry but failing miserably.
“Look at this,” Ellen said as she showed the residue on her fingers to Bishop. “This is clay, maybe not the best, but it is clay.” She looked around some more and using her trowel on the cut bank cleaned the face of the cut. “Give me one of the water bottles, please,” she said to no one in particular.
Tess responded immediately, handing her the water bottle. Ellen poured some of the water along the top edge of the area she had scraped with the trowel and it immediately glisten and retained a sheen. She dug out a trowel full of the soil and immediately began working it in her hand until she had a coil. She added just a touch of water and worked it again. This time she was able to wrap the coil around her finger. “That,” she said with exuberance, “is good clay. I won’t say it’s the motherlode but, if this clay band is as thick and as long as it appears, I think we’ll be well supplied.”
Using her trowel she cut out large chunks of the clay and put it in the pail. As Bishop watched he was not feeling at all enthusiastic about hauling that bucket up the steps to the village.
“You know,” he said, “when the creek floods we won’t be able to get to this clay so we may want to dig out a fair amount as soon as possible. We’ll have to see what Tanner has in mind.”
Sinagua Rising: A story of survival after a worldwide catastrophe Page 34