Page 15 of Red Hawk's Woman

And she of all people needed to keep up a professional appearance. But this was, after all, Montana. Would it really be such a risk?

She exhaled on a sigh. She had best be about her business.

The longer she delayed, the more costly the project. Goodness knew, she’d had enough problems funding this excavation. Indeed, if not for her father’s influence, she might still be seeking the means.

Her father’s name was well known in the field of archaeology, and that alone had helped her to raise the funds. Of course, John Owens and his wife had helped in their own way too, by lending Effie encouragement.

Therefore, it had been no strain when Effie had granted Mr. Owens his one request: to allow him and his wife to accompany her on the dig. Effie had already been intending to ask them both to be part of her crew, since John Owens’s experience would make him an ideal field supervisor.

Again, she worried over Mr. Owens’s possible resentment of her position, if only because, due to his age and background, he should have been the one to have it.

Frowning, Effie returned to the vanity, where she again checked the safety of the artifacts…an unnecessary precaution. There they were, still wrapped in their little knapsacks.

She really had to find a more secure spot for them. But where? If she carried a locked box in her possession, others might become suspicious. Especially when thus far she had tried to give the members of the project the impression that the artifacts were stored somewhere else—safe, hidden.

Of course they all knew she would have to carry the valuables with her once they were en route to the digging site. Even her students were aware of this.

After all, the main purpose of this expedition was to find the remaining two artifacts, place them with the two she carried and return them all to the Lost Clan. Although exactly how she was to go about that, she didn’t know. Her father had said it would be evident at the time. She only hoped that were true.

Mindlessly, she shut the drawer and picked up her brush, wiping it on her skirts to ensure its cleanliness before stroking it through the reddish waves of her hair. Gently, she patted each curl neatly into place.

At least she and her students, who were here to relocate the site of the dig, were to be in this dull mining town for a short while only—not more than a few weeks. By that time Mr. Owens and his wife should have caught up with them, and their party would be complete and on its way.

While in Virginia City, it would be her crew’s job—well, mostly hers—to enlist a guide who was trustworthy, since she and her party would be traveling over unknown and dangerous territory. She must also ensure the project possessed the proper equipment, as well as a supply of rations that would carry them through the winter months, if need be. There would also be trowels and shovels to buy, shears, brushes, knives, plus many journals for their various reports.

Placing the hairbrush back onto the vanity, Effie rose and stepped softly toward the lone window, which was at present pushed open. Dust-laden curtains were pulled back by a single tie, and they covered only one far corner of the window. Effie took a position opposite those drapes.

Gazing outward, her eyes were met by a fog that seemed to hang over everything, animate and inanimate. Its wetness threw a damper over the morning, as though the day itself were urging one to remain indoors.

Yet oddly, the scent in the air, the feel of the atmospheric moisture and the lethargy it might induce had the opposite effect on Effie. In truth, such conditions as these brought back remembrances of another place, another time.

It had been hazy that morning too. Strangely, those few hours seventeen years ago had left an undeniable impression on her.

Why?

Inadvertently, Effie reached up to her chest, her fingers seeking out the warm, gold chain that lay nestled between her breasts. Taking hold of it, she drew it out, away from her clothes and her body, her gaze fastening on to the two perfectly rounded white shells that were strung there. Those shells had once been earrings, had once been owned by someone whose memory, to this very day, was precious.

Briefly, she allowed herself to speculate on the boy who had given the trinket to her, a boy who would now be a man.

A sense of nostalgia washed over her. Why? Why did she recall those moments with such a feeling of longing? It wasn’t as if she had known the lad well. That one day was all they’d ever spent together; she had never seen him again.

Still, the two of them had connected on a personal level, one that felt magical, mystical, more spiritual than physical. As the years had gone by, she had even imagined herself in love with the lad, had spent years weaving childish dreams around him.

Effie sighed. Sometimes she wondered if he might not be the reason she had never aspired to marry. Was she the sort of woman who, having once given her heart away, was of no use to another?

“Are you out there now?” she addressed the mist as though he were there in it. “And if you are, do you ever think of me?”

For a brief moment, a vision materialized before her, one of a future that had never been and would never be. Deep in thought, she drew her arms over her chest and hunched forward. What would her life be like if she and the boy had engaged in more contact with one another?

That he was American Indian, that their life together might have been difficult, would have held little sway over her. To Effie, such things were immaterial, especially when the heart was involved.

Effie blew out her breath in self-disgust. For all she knew, the man was married now, with three wives and ten children.

Briefly, her gaze turned outward again, and despite her own good sense, her spirits reached out toward the mist. Sometimes she wondered if they had both been enchanted that day.

Enough. She was no longer a child who could afford to engage in immature imaginings and dreams. There was work to be done, and the good Lord knew that if she didn’t do it, it would most likely go undone. Ah, yes, the morning awaited.

In terms of territory, a good many miles separated them. There was nothing to tie them together, not even a similarity in custom, culture or way of thinking. And yet, they each shared a common peculiarity: They both loved the dawn’s early gloom.