The year is 1905. It is autumn in the village of Aztec in New Mexico territory. Amanda Dale is burdened with the responsibility of caring for her widowed sister—an invalid----and Ella’s two children—one a premature infant. But Amanda wants a husband and children of her own and despairs that God does not care about her plight. Schoolteacher Gil Gladney is handsome, intelligent, and God-fearing. He is drawn to Amanda, but feels he cannot propose marriage until he is able to purchase the ranch he has been saving for.
When Gil and his pupils discover the relics of an ancient culture among the ruins outside the village, Gil contacts an old college friend. The possibility of an archaeologist excavation excites the community of cash-strapped farmers, eager to earn extra money working on the site.
Gil is delighted when Nate Phillips comes to Aztec to take up the challenge. When a rabid skunk reels through the excavation site, threatening the lives of Amanda and her nephew Rex, Gil realizes that life is short and the possibility of true happiness can be fleeting. In the end, Amanda learns to trust God to provide the happily-ever-after ending she’s been praying for.
Read the First Chapter
*********************
Amanda’s Beau
by Shirley Raye Redmond
Chapter One
Village of Aztec,
New Mexico Territory--1905
The baby was
nestled snugly inside the large roasting pan. Wrapped in a bit of blue flannel
blanket, she reminded Amanda Dale of an oversized tamale. The pan had been set upon the open door of the hot oven so
that the premature infant could absorb the life-saving heat. She is so little, Amanda thought with a
clutch of fear. She bent over the pan to peer into her niece’s tiny face—a face
not much larger than a silver dollar.
“Do you think
she’ll die?” 10-year-old Rex asked. Bonita, the large red dog, stood beside
him, her long tongue hanging out of her open mouth.
Amanda noted the
anxiety in her nephew’s voice. She didn’t answer at first. Born almost two
months early, the baby had been quite small and barely strong enough to suckle.
Tufts of dark hair now sprang from the top of her little head like scraggly
sprouts. Her tiny limbs appeared so fragile that Amanda was reluctant to carry
the infant without first placing her on a pillow. Ella hadn’t even bothered to
name the child yet. When Rex started calling the baby Minnie, Amanda did too.
After all, the tiny girl was no bigger than a minute, Gil Gladney had declared
the first time he’d seen her.
With a heavy sigh,
Amanda shoved thoughts of the handsome schoolteacher, out of her mind and
filled the medicine dropper with warm milk. She couldn’t afford to indulge in
romantic daydreams. Not this busy September morning. Perhaps not ever.
“Aunt
Mandy, is she going to die?” Rex repeated.
“Not
if I can help it,” Amanda replied. She gently pressed the tip of the medicine
dropper into the baby’s small rosebud mouth. Minnie puckered a bit, trying to
suck. Small and feeble, the infant made frail, pitiful sounds like a mewling
kitten.
“How is Mama this
morning?” Rex asked.
“As
well as can be expected,” Amanda replied, shrugging. Glancing at him, she noted
the anxiety etched on his young face. Her heart ached for him. He’d endured a
lot of grief for one so young. “Your mother is sick in her heart and in her
mind. It takes a lot of time to heal in those places.”
She did wish Ella
would make more of an effort though. Sometimes she had to resist the urge to go
in there and shake some sense into her younger sister. Of course, she’d never
tell Rex that. Changing the subject, she
asked, “Did you feed the chickens?”
“That’s all I ever
do--take care of those stupid chickens!” he snapped.
“Watch your tone
with me, young man!” Amanda warned.
Rex sighed. “Yes,
ma’am. I didn’t mean nothing by it. I fed the chickens and filled the pans with
fresh water too.”
“Anything, you didn’t mean anything by it,” she said, correcting
his grammar.
He shrugged a shoulder. “ I spend so much time
out there, I should move my cot into the chicken house.” With another shrug, he
added, “Ozzie Lancaster calls me Chicken Boy.”
Amanda
bit her lip and tried not to laugh. She loved her nephew. With his sandy
colored hair and freckles, he looked a lot like Ella. Her sister would never be
able to disown the boy. He was her spitting image. “Well, now, eat your
breakfast and don’t worry about Ozzie Lancaster. He’s not the brightest spool
of thread in the sewing basket, that’s for certain,” she told him. He wasn’t.
“Your mama is proud of you and how you’ve pitched in around here since your
daddy died. It hasn’t been easy, I know.”
When
Rex raised one pale eyebrow and looked at her doubtfully, Amanda added, “Your
mama knows more about what’s going on around here than you realize. I’m proud
of you too, Rex. You’ve taken on the responsibilities of a grown man. Now eat.”
She shoved the plate of fresh biscuits toward him.
She watched the
boy’s face flush with pleasure and felt a little ashamed of herself for not
praising him more often. He was a good boy. He really was. But Amanda rarely
received
compliments these days, and so she
seldom felt inclined to hand them out to others. She was a spinster who’d spent
most of her adult life caring for one ailing parent after another. And now she
was taking care of her newly widowed sister and two fatherless children—one who
might die any day. She was twenty-seven years old, going on twenty-eight. Some
days she felt twice that age. She feared the best part of her life was over. She’d survived one disappointment after
another. It was all she could do not to nurse her bitter feelings. She tried to
count her blessings each night before going to bed, but it was getting harder
to do.
Watching Rex tackle his scrambled
eggs, Amanda wished there was fresh milk for him to
drink, but he’d have to settle for watered down coffee. At
least it was hot. She poured some into
his cup. There was no money for fresh milk now—not since
Rex’s father had died after
accidentally falling from Joe Ulibarri’s barn roof. There
was just enough to buy the tinned kind
for Minnie. She saw him take a swallow and grimace. On
Sundays, they drank the weak coffee
with sugar. But today was not Sunday. It was Saturday. But
it was a special day-- sort of.
“Go ahead and add some sugar, if you
want,” Amanda encouraged him.
Rex’s freckled face lit up as he
quickly reached for the sugar tin. “It’s going to be an
exciting day, isn’t it, Aunt Mandy?” he declared. “Almost as
exciting as the rodeo or county
fair.”
“No more dawdling. Eat,” Amanda
replied crisply. She tried not to think of the
adventure ahead. Exciting? She couldn’t say, but it was
certainly going to be out of the
ordinary. So why was she looking forward to the outing and
yet dreading it too?
“I read this book
called The Conquest of Mexico,” Rex
went on. “Mr. Gladney loaned it to me. It’s all about the Aztecs and their King
Montezuma and Captain Cortez and a beautiful lady named Marina. Mr. Gladney
says the Aztecs didn’t build the old ruins, but he says the first settlers thought
so and that’s why they named the place after them. Mr. Gladney knows a lot
about archeology. His best friend is an archeologist.”
When Amanda raised
her eyebrows, Rex explained. “He says archeology is the scientific study of old
artifacts and stuff from ancient cultures. That means pottery and skeletons and
such.”
“Eat,” she said. “He’ll be here
soon and you haven’t finished your breakfast yet.” She
picked up the
baby—roasting pan and all—and swished into the other room to change Minnie’s
diaper. She knew Rex had been looking forward to this
particular Saturday for weeks, ever since
Mr. Gladney had announced that he would be willing to take
interested boys and girls to explore
the old Indian ruins along the Animas River. A field trip,
he called it.
Like most of the other people
living in the small New Mexico town, Amanda knew the
ruins existed, but she didn’t think about them much. After
all, there was laundry to wash and her
ailing sister to look after and little Minnie to care for
and eggs to collect and sell and the small
garden to tend. Why should she concern herself with old
deserted dwellings, home now to
nothing but lizards and spiders?
When Rex told her about his
teacher’s eager fascination with the old Indian settlement,
Amanda had imagined all too well how Gil Gladney’s blue eyes
must have lit up. Eyes as
blue as the New Mexico sky. Rex adored Mr. Gladney, she
knew. Her nephew wanted to be a
teacher too when he grew up. He loved school and reading
books. While most other boys his age
would rather go hunting or fishing, Rex loved studying
history and geography. He hoped to go to
college one day. He even prayed about it. Amanda didn’t see
how it would be possible, but she
wasn’t going to say so and ruin his dreams. Rex was a good
boy. So when he asked her to come
along, to be a chaperone for the girl students, she’d said
yes.
Her cheeks
flamed now, reflecting upon her foolishness. Then she heard Bonita
bark, and her cheeks grew even hotter. He was here! Her fingers
fumbled with Minnie’s small
diaper—squares of white flannel no bigger than a woman’s
handkerchief. Amanda heard voices
in the kitchen—Rex’s and a woman’s. She relaxed a little and
gently returned the baby to her
roasting pan, tucking the blankets around her small body.
Smoothing her own skirt and wavy
dark hair, Amanda
picked up the pan and returned to the kitchen.
“Good morning, Senora Martinez. Thank you for coming,” she said, noting with
pleasure
the basket of fresh sopapillas
on the kitchen table and a jar of honey.
“I am happy to help,” the older
woman replied. Short, plump and middle aged,
Dolores Martinez was the mother of six grown children and
more than a dozen grandchildren.
She had proven to be a good neighbor many times in the past
several months. “Let me have the
baby,” she insisted, taking the roasting pan. “Pobrecita, poor little thing,” she
cooed, looking
down at Minnie. “She is small, but muy bonita, no?”
“Yes, she’s a pretty little thing,”
Amanda agreed.
“Hmmm,
the sopapillas are still warm!” Rex
exclaimed. He helped himself to one of the pillowy triangles of fried dough and
drizzled it with a spoonful of honey.
“Mind your manners
and be sure to water the senora’s
horse,” Amanda reminded him, peering out the window at the horse tied to the
porch railing.
“Thanks, Mrs.
Martinez,” Rex mumbled, his mouth full. He darted out the door to do as he’d
been told.
Amanda whisked his plate from the table and
placed it on the floor. As usual, Rex had left a bit of egg and some biscuit
crumbs for the dog. “Here, girl,” she said, patting Bonita’s dark velvety head.
The animal was looking healthier every day, despite the broken tail and the
sore patch on her back where someone had scalded her with something hot.
Miserable and apparently homeless, the pitiful creature had shown up one day on
the farm. Rex had adopted her with fierce affection. Amanda dreaded the day
that someone would turn up to claim the dog. She feared Rex wouldn’t be able to
handle the loss so soon after the death of his father.
“How
is the mamacita today?” Dolores
Martinez asked.
Amanda
feigned a cheerful smile. “Much the same,” she replied. She led the way to the
bedroom and quietly pushed open the door. Standing in the doorway, she glanced
in at her sister lying in the bed. Ella’s long pale braids looked like skinny
lengths of rope draped over each shoulder. Her dark eyes were open, but she
didn’t appear to see anything, nor did she look in their direction as they
entered the room. While Dolores made a tsk-tsk
sound and muttered something in Spanish, Amanda made her way to her sister’s
bed and sat down on the edge. She picked up one of Ella’s pale limp hands and
held it between her own strong, rosy ones. She felt a surge of conflicting
emotion—both pity and impatience.
“Ella,
Senora Martinez has come to sit with
you,” she announced. “Remember, I told you I’d be going on a school trip with
Rex this morning. The teacher is taking some of the pupils out to explore the
old Indian ruins down by the river.”
Amanda
looked for any sign of understanding on her sister’s blank face. There wasn’t
one.
“It is a puzzle,
this illness of your sister’s,” Dolores said.
Amanda nodded. She
didn’t understand it at all. When Doctor Morgan had come to help deliver the
premature baby, Ella had neither spoken nor cried out in pain. She moaned a
little and whimpered. That’s all. Afterwards, she wouldn’t talk or even eat.
She wouldn’t even hold her newborn daughter.
“Doc Morgan says
there’s nothing wrong with her--nothing physical anyhow,” Amanda said. “She’s
as healthy as a horse, but she’s lost the will to live. She didn’t have much
time to get over her husband’s death, and then the baby came too early. I guess
she’s got a broken heart, and the doctor has no cure for that.”
“Es una
vergüenza—it is a shame,” Dolores admitted. “You must be strong enough
for
the both
of you for a little while longer.”
But how much longer, Amanda wondered?
She didn’t really understand her sister’s behavior at all. Ella was alive. She
had two children and a home of her own and a sizable chicken farm. Wasn’t that
enough? Wasn’t that enough motivation to quit feeling sorry for herself and get
up out of bed? Amanda recalled the doctor’s hard words now as she looked down
upon the pale face and gently touched one of the long braids. Ella’s eyes were
so dull and lifeless.
Just then Bonita
padded into the room. The dog hoisted her paws up on the bed and wagged her
tail. Amanda grinned. “See, Ella, even
Bonita wishes you were well.” She stroked the dog’s silky, lopsided ears. She
knew Rex was probably hovering outside the door and keeping an eye out for Gil
Gladney’s buckboard. Usually, she made
the boy come in first thing to say good morning to his mother. But she knew it
was hard for him to see her this way. He was always eager to leave the dark,
disheartening room that smelled of medicine and despair.
“Amanda,
you go get ready for your outing,” Dolores said, placing a hand on her
shoulder. “I will take care of your sister and her bebe. You are not to worry. Enjoy yourself.”
“Thank
you,” Amanda said, rising from the bed. “I appreciate your kindness.”
The older woman shrugged a plump
shoulder. “It is nothing. I want you to have a good
time—a
picnic with the so-charming schoolteacher.” She rolled her dark eyes
suggestively
and
arched her thick eyebrows. “Alto moreno y muy guapo—tall, dark and very handsome!”
Amanda chuckled. “Don’t forget we’ll have Rex and a dozen other school
children to keep us company.”
Dolores laughed too and shooed her
out of the room. Feeling more lighthearted than she
had earlier that morning, Amanda hurried to her own room and
studied her features in the mirror.
Her cheeks were flushed with anticipation. Her brown eyes
glowed. She examined the Spanish
curls she’d flattened against her temples earlier that
morning. Recalling that some women
dubbed them beau catchers, she reached for her brush and
swept them away with a few impatient
strokes. She wouldn’t want Dolores Martinez or anyone else
to think she’d set her cap—and her
heart--on winning Gil Gladney.
She had just finish pinning a
brooch to her crisp shirtwaist blouse and smoothing her
gored skirt when she heard Rex call out, “Aunt Mandy, he’s
here!”
Her heart
lurched. She chastised herself severely for such foolishness and risked
one last look in the mirror as she donned her best straw
hat—one with a wide brim to keep the
sun out of her eyes. Trimmed with blue and green plaid
ribbon, the hat looked rather festive, she
thought as she secured the hat pin with fingers that
trembled ever so slightly.
She made her way to the kitchen,
where Bonita barked a welcome at the newcomer
standing on the front porch. Rex had apparently left the dog
inside in his eagerness to run out the
door to greet Gil Gladney. Amanda felt a tug of guilt when
she heard Minnie’s feeble cry from
the other room, but Dolores bustled in then and picked up
the bowl of hardboiled eggs Amanda
had prepared the night before.
“Go,” the older woman urged,
thrusting the bowl toward her. “And do not worry.”
Amanda
nodded, taking the bowl and swiping a small Mason jar filled with salt from the
kitchen table too. As she opened the door, the dog swept
past her with an eager swish of her tail.
Gil Gladney stood on the porch talking with Rex. He’d
removed his hat, and his black hair
glinted in the sunlight like a raven’s wing. Even in scuffed
boots and worn trousers, Gil
Gladney was the most attractive man she’d ever met. Dolores
was right—he was tall, dark and
handsome. Very handsome.
She looked past him to the four
youngsters already sitting in the back of the buckboard—
little Sammy Cordova, who grinned, revealing missing front
teeth; the Schwarzkopf twins,
Gertrude and Greta, with their long twiggy braids, the color
of old straw, and Jerry Snow, a boy
flecked with freckles and red hair nearly as dark as
Bonita’s coat. Jerry was Rex’s best friend.
She smiled and nodded at him before returning her attention
to the good-looking schoolteacher.
“Miss Dale, you’re as pretty as a
picture this morning,” Gil greeted her. He smiled then,
revealing fine white teeth. The deep lines around his eyes
crinkled—such blue, blue eyes,
Amanda noted. The look of unfeigned admiration she saw there
both pleased and flustered her.
“Good morning to you, Mr. Gladney.
A fine day for a school outing,” she observed.
“Yes, the weather’s fine,” was all
he could reply before Rex began pleading to take the
dog along.
“Please, Mr. Gladney, can Bonita
come too? She won’t be any trouble. She’s a good
dog, honest.”
Hearing the
hopefulness in her nephew’s voice, Amanda said a silent prayer—and not for the
first time--that whoever originally owned the dog would never show up to claim
her.
Gil Gladney didn’t hesitate. “Sure, why not?
Have her climb up into the back of the wagon.” Turning to Amanda, he took the
bowl of eggs from her and the jar of salt and handed them over to Gertrude
place in the back of the wagon. Then he offered Amanda his hand to assist her
into the front seat of the buckboard.
“I’ve always liked
dogs,” he told her. “They have a peculiar sense of humor all their own. And
most of them are more pleasant to be around than lots of people I know,” he
said with a chuckle.
Amanda’s lips
twitched. She thought he had a peculiar sense of humor himself. “Rex loves that
dog,” she told him after he’d settled Rex and Bonita in the back and joined her
on the seat. “She wasn’t much to look at when he first found her, homeless and
miserable. She was thin and rickety looking, and as you can see, her tail is
broken and sticks out to one side. The sore patch on her back is finally
beginning to heal. I think someone might have scalded her with something hot.”
“Who named
her Bonita? That means pretty one in
Spanish, doesn’t it?” Gil asked,
reaching for the reins.
“Rex did,”
she replied.
Gil’s
eyebrows shot up. He grinned slowly. “That boy’s quite an optimist.”
Amanda laughed. It
was going to be a lovely day, and now that she was away from the house and her
responsibilities there, she planned to enjoy it. September was one of her
favorite months of the year. The sun was just warm enough to be pleasant. Wild
purple asters and golden chamisa dotted the landscape reminding her of a yellow
and lavender quilt she’d had as a child. Rex and the other youngsters chattered
happily in the back of the wagon, with Bonita the center of good-natured
attention.
“How’s
your sister,” Gil asked then. “And the baby?”
At
first, Amanda didn’t reply. She could feel her cheeks flush with resentment.
She didn’t want to talk about Ella and Minnie. Not today. Not with Gil Gladney.
Reluctantly, she replied, “As well as can be expected.” Before he could pursue
the topic further, she changed the subject. “Any new students in the school
this year?”
“Yes,
a few. Most of them boys Rex’s age or older,” Gil replied, giving her a
sidelong glance. “There’s a new little girl too. Just barely six. Her name is
Brunhilde Bergschneider. Her father just bought the livery in town.”
“What
a big name for a little girl!” Amanda exclaimed.
“The
kids call her Bunny,” he told her, with a grin.
“You
love it, don’t you? Teaching I mean?”
He
nodded. “I do.”
“Did
you always want to be a teacher?” she asked.
“Yes,
it’s an honorable calling. Helping to form the mind and manners of child is
about one of the most important jobs there is. Introducing them to literature,
history, science and the Bible so that one day they will be good and useful
citizens—it’s a big responsibility, don’t you agree?”
“I do,” Amanda
replied, moved by his obvious dedication.
“Mr. Noah
Webster—he wrote the dictionary-- defines education as that which furnishes a
child with principles, knowledge, training and discipline,” he went on. “But
most teaching positions don’t pay much, so I’ve moved around a lot. I’d like to
settle here though—in Aztec or Farmington. I hope to raise horses one day too,
as well as teach, ” Gil replied. “I’m saving up to buy a place of my own—a
ranch. One of these days,” he added, with a self-conscience shrug.
Amanda
swallowed hard and nodded. She knew what it was like to have those sort of
dreams—the one-of-these-days kind. She knew he lived in two small rooms
attached to the back of the schoolhouse. She also knew that the teacher’s
salary wasn’t much. Doc Morgan had told her, and he was on the school board.
But Gil Gladney did earn twice as much as Miss Weston and Miss Platz, who had
been the town’s two previous schoolteachers. Amanda was happy for him, of
course, but it didn’t seem right somehow that the female teachers hadn’t earned
as much. How long, she wondered, would it take Gil to save up enough money to
buy a ranch?
*
* * * *
On the
brief journey to the ruins of the old Indian settlement, barely four miles away
on
the banks of the Animas River, Gil
quickly noticed when Amanda fell into a distracted silence. He asked her if the
chickens were thriving, and her only reply was a brief nod. He wondered if her
sister and the premature infant were not doing as well as she’d let on. Perhaps
she was really more worried about the state of their health than she cared to
admit. He silently chastised himself for bringing her along as a chaperone for
the female pupils. He’d assumed—more fool
he!—that Amanda Dale had offered to come along. He realized now that Rex
had probably volunteered her services. She’d felt obligated to come, no doubt.
But she had looked willing, even eager, when she’d stepped out onto the porch,
wearing that fetching straw hat and holding the bowl of hardboiled eggs.
His heart had
jolted at the sight of her. He wasn’t quite sure if that reaction was caused by
nervous tension or delight. He couldn’t afford to think about it for too long.
He studied Amanda from the corner of his eye. She sat straight and rigid on the
hard seat beside him. Her dark eyes,
with those impossibly thick lashes, were fixed on something in the distance.
Her cheeks were a deep pink color—from the heat of the day or embarrassment, he
couldn’t say. Maybe that was it. He’d embarrassed her talking so frankly about
his passion for teaching and his plans to breed horses one day. Perhaps he’d
been too bold, too open. Gil clenched his jaw and berated himself for being
more than one kind of fool.
The awkward
silence between them was fortunately interrupted by a flood of questions from
Jerry Snow in the back of the buckboard. “Do you think we’ll find gold or
silver, Mr. Gladney? What about Spanish treasure? Or maybe some dead bodies
wrapped up like mummies?”
The
Schwarzkopf sisters made a disgusted, “Eeeewwwwweeeee!” sound.
As
Gil turned slightly to answer his student’s excited inquiry, he noticed Amanda
looking at him with an amused expression on her face. Her brown eyes danced
with laughter. He knew she was enjoying his predicament. He grinned at her. She
smiled back.
“Jerry,
I’ve told you before that this settlement is not an ancient Aztec city. I doubt
there will be any gold or silver, and I’m certain there won’t be any mummies,”
he called back over his shoulder. The boys in his class had gone crazy over
mummies ever since he’d shared with them a newspaper article about archeologist
Wallis Budge and the excavations he’d been doing in Egypt on behalf of the
British Museum.
“But
what about S…Spanish treasure?” Sammy Cordova asked, his missing front teeth
causing him to lisp.
“No
Spanish treasure either,” Gil replied.
“But
my father, he tell me that Jesuit priests had gold mines all over New Mexico,”
the boy insisted.
“Yeah,
and they didn’t tell the Spanish king about the mines because they wanted to
keep the gold and silver for themselves,” Jerry added.
“Perhaps
the treasure is all gone now,” Greta spoke up.
“Not
if the Black Robes didn’t return for it,” Rex said.
“I’ve
told you already that this isn’t an Aztec city nor the remains of a Jesuit
mission,” Gil repeated firmly. “I realize that you have all grown up with the
legends of Cibola—the Seven Cities of Gold—and the long lost mines found by the
conquistadors, but these ruins are far more ancient than all of those stories.”
At
that moment, the ruins themselves came into view. Located on the western lip of
the river, the old settlement, with its the sandstone masonry walls—some
several stories high—was an intriguing sight against the pale, bleached sand
hills, sparsely covered with sage and saltbush.
Although he wouldn’t have admitted
it to his students, Gil thought ruins were romantic—like the old stories of
knights and dragons he’d so enjoyed as a boy.
“It’s an old ghost
town,” Amanda observed. “Sad and forlorn.”
“Haven’t you been
here before?” Gil asked her.
She shook her
head. He noted how the blue bead on the head of her hat pin glinted in the sun.
“Folks from town
come out here all the time for picnics and to explore the ruins, just like
we’re doing today,” he said.
“Mr.
Gladney, do you think it’s haunted?” Gertrude asked.
“No
“ he replied promptly.
“Miss
Dale, do you think it is?” the girl pressed.
Gil
looked at Amanda. Her lips were slightly pursed. She was trying not to laugh.
He watched as she turned around to look at the children in the back of the
wagon. She answered calmly, “No, of course not.”
He
thanked her with a wink, which caused her to blush prettily and look away
toward the lazy, trickling river. Four his other students—all boys—had already
arrived and tethered their horses. They waved. Gil waved back.
“I
hope there aren’t any bats or rats,” Greta spoke up as Gil maneuvered the wagon
toward the nearest shade tree.
“Or
snakes,” her sister added.
“I’ll
bet there are lots of rattlesnakes,” Jerry piped up. Gil couldn’t help noting
the enthusiasm in his voice. “One might bite you on the ankle, Greta, and then
your tongue will swell up so big that it won’t fit in your mouth, and your face
will turn purple and black and you’ll die!”
The
sisters squealed with terror, while the boys laughed raucously.
“That’s enough,
boys,” Gil warned. As he reined in the horse and climbed down from the
buckboard, he was thankful--more than ever--that Amanda had agreed to come
along to watch over the girls.
The youngsters
scrambled out of the back of the wagon and raced toward the rubble to greet
their classmates, Bonita dogging Rex’s heels. Gil helped Amanda alight and
asked matter-of-factly, “Are you ready for an adventure?”
“Ready as I’ll
ever be, I reckon,” she replied. Her dazzling smile nearly took his breath
away. Gil glanced over at his students and forced himself to think about
archeology. He was here today to instruct his pupils in the scientific study of
artifacts and other material evidence of ancient culture, not to allow himself
to be smitten—any further--by Amanda Dale.
“Ozzie, Jerry,
Rex—help me with the equipment,” he ordered. As the boys hastened forward to
lend a hand, Gil retrieved spades, a hatchet and a few other assorted tools for
the small group of young explorers to use. After giving them a brief history
lesson and digging instructions, Gil turned them lose to poke about in the dirt
and debris near the jagged masonry walls.
No doubt a
professional archeologist would be horrified by his disregard for the old
Indian site. But many of the structures had already been damaged from years of rain
and snow pooling on the roofs, slowly rotting the wooden slats and beams, which
had crashed, carrying chunks of the wall masonry with them. Peering down into
the collapsed chambers choked with centuries of rubble, Gil figured his
students couldn’t do any serious damage with their spades and trowels.
He noticed that
Rex had moved away from the other students, selecting a section near a
collapsed wall to explore on his own. The boy was down on his knees, scraping
at the hardened earth with the tip of the spade. Bonita sat in the shade,
watching the boy’s every move.
“Want some help?”
Gil asked.
“Sure!” Rex
replied, moving over to make room for him.
Gil liked Rex
Stewart. He was a bright pupil, always eager to learn. It was a shame that his
father had died, leaving the boy to shoulder the responsibility of a sick
mother and ailing baby sister. Sometimes Gil didn’t know who he felt sorry for
most—Rex or his pretty aunt.
The two worked
together in companionable silence. Occasionally, Gil glanced over at Amanda.
She efficiently supervised Greta and Gertrude, who seemed more interested in
picking wild flowers in the rubble than exploring the ruins. When he and Rex
had dug nearly four feet down, they uncovered a row of pine log roof beams that
seemed to make up a ceiling of some sort. Using the hatchet to chop through the
brittle mass, Gil made an opening large enough to peer through.
“Look, Rex!
There’s a chamber below.” He sat back on his heels and looked around.
“We’re on the roof, I think.”
“We’ve
found something!” Rex hollered out. The other boys, abandoning their own
efforts, dashed over to join them. Amanda came too, gently herding the blonde
sisters in front of her like pinafored sheep.
“Is
it a dungeon?” the Hurtado boy asked hopefully.
“Any
bats or rattlers down there?” Jerry asked. He grinned wickedly at the
Schwarzkopf sisters.
Gil
fell to his hands and knees. “I can’t see anything,” he told them. “It’s too
dark.
I’m going down. Give me that rope
and a candle,” he ordered. Making a few more chops and slashes to enlarge the
hole, Gil secured one end of the robe to a nearby scrub oak and shoved a candle
into his jacket pocket. He then lowered himself down into the black cavity.
“I’m coming with you, Mr. Gladney,” Rex
declared.
“All right, but
bring a candle down with you,” Gil called up to him. He heard the boy order the
whimpering dog to “stay” and watched as Rex inched his way over the side of the
hole into the chamber before inching his way over the side and down into the
hole.
“It smells down
here,” Rex said, wrinkling his nose.
“It is pretty
musty,” Gil agreed, striking a match on the bottom of boot. He lit his candle
and then Rex’s.
“Can we come down
too, Mr. Gladney?” one of the other boys called down.
“Me too?” Jerry
hollered.
Wiping his hands
on the seat of his britches, Gil looked through the hole at the ring of boyish
faces peering down at him. “Okay, you can all come if you want to, but one at a
time down the rope.” The descent was
only about eight or nine feet. Each boy took their time down the rope and then
lit their candle from Rex’s already flickering one. When the last boy had made
his descent, Gil looked up and saw Amanda and the two girls peering down at
them.
“Greta, Gertrude,
you can come next, if you want,” Gil said.
“Do we have to,
Mr. Gladney?” Greta whined.
“I’ll stay up here
with them,” Amanda offered.
“Are you sure?” he
asked, wondering if she was really longing to come down into the chamber too.
“Aunt Mandy,
there’s no treasure or gold or anything down here,” Rex called up to her. The
boy’s voice was heavy with disappointment.
“And
no old bones either,” Jerry lamented.
Gil ignored their
disappointment and began prying stones from the wall to allow them access to
what he hoped was an adjacent chamber. Rex and Jerry lent a helping hand. Soon
the other boys were pulling at stones too, until there was a clear entrance
into the next chamber. One by one, following his lead, the boys stepped inside.
Their candles flickered wildly. Then they blinked out. Young Michael squeaked
with distress. The heavy darkness hung around them like thick curtains.
“There’s
not enough oxygen in this interior chamber to keep our candles lit, that’s
all,” Gil explained matter-of-factly. “There’s nothing to worry about.” Taking
one or two slow steps backwards, he returned to the first chamber, took another
match from the box in his pocket and relit his candle. The boys pushed forward,
eager to relight their own. Once all the candles were burning again, Gil led
his young explorers back into the second chamber. This time, there was enough
air coming in through the breach in the wall to keep the flames burning.
“Looks
like a pile of rubbish to me,” Jerry remarked as he held his candle high and
peered into one gloomy corner.
As
Gil glanced upwards toward the ceiling, Rex and Jerry took tentative steps in
the direction of the farthest corner. Behind them, Michael shrieked with fright
and Jerry, gasping, dropped his candle.
“J...j...jumping
Jehosophat!” Rex stammered. “Look at that!”
Gil stared at the
seated skeleton in the corner. “Boys, just look!” he exclaimed, thrilled with
the discovery.
“Is everybody
okay?” he heard Amanda calling down to them.
“We’re fine!” he
called back. “The boys have found some remains.”
Gil ventured
forward to study the skeleton. His heart pounded with excitement. This was more
than he had hoped for. The body’s flesh had disappeared long ago, but the bones
and dried
ligaments held the skeleton in its
seated position. The empty eye sockets seemed particularly gruesome. Out of the
corner of his eye, he noted Michael crossing himself and then ducking out of
the chamber.
“I’m
getting out,” the boy declared, making for the rope.
“Anyone
who wants to leave, can leave,” Gil told them. He didn’t care if all the
youngsters scampered back up the rope. Amanda would keep an eye on them, he
knew. Rex, however, remained close to his side. He could hear the boy’s heavy
breathing. He knew Rex was as thrilled as he was.
“Mr.
Gladney, over here. Look!” His voice was hoarse with excitement.
Gil
turned, holding his candle high. “Another skeleton!” he exclaimed. This one was
lying on the floor with its knees drawn up to its chest and tied with some sort
of fiber matting. Several fine pottery vessels and an amulet made of turquoise
and abalone shell had been placed next to the corpse.
“I’ll
bet he was a warrior...or a chief, maybe,” Rex conjectured.
Looking up, Gil
noticed Jerry standing at the chamber’s rough entrance. The red-haired boy was gaping with disbelief.
So, all of the students hadn’t abandoned him and Rex after all.
“What do you
think, Jerry?” he asked. “Do you think Rex is right, that these might be the
remains of a great chief?”
When Jerry only
shrugged and shook his head, Gil glanced down at the second skeleton and
declared, “I’ve got to write Phillips.” Turning to Rex, he explained, “He’s my
friend, the archaeologist, the one I told you about. He’ll want to see this for
himself.”
From
somewhere above the half-buried chamber, Gil could hear Rex’s dog barking and
the faint laughter of the other students.
“Your
friend, Mr. Phillips, will he come here to dig for relics?” Rex asked.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure
he’ll come,” Gil replied, rising to his feet and brushing the dirt off his
trousers. Still clutching his candle in one hand, he clapped the other upon the
boy’s shoulder. “Phillips may even bring in an excavation crew. What do you
think about that?”
“That’s
good, right?” Rex asked uncertainly.
Gil
laughed. “Yes, it’s good.” Even if Nate
Phillips did bring a crew to excavate the ruins, he’d still hire local men to
do some of the heavier digging and hauling of debris. Gil could work on the
site after school was dismissed for the day and make some extra money to put
toward that ranch he’d told Amanda Dale about. He laughed again, for no particular
reason. Picking up one of the pots and the amulet, Gil handed them to Jerry and
Rex. “We’ll take these with us,” he told them.
“Are
we going to take HIM too?” Rex asked, pointing to the skeleton.
Gil
shook his head. “No, just what you’ve got there and this,” he added, indicating
a basket he’d discovered in the corner. “We’ll put them on display in the
classroom, along with the other artifacts that have been discovered today. Now,
c’mon, boys! I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
********************
Anonymous, nameless, Adelaide Schumacher should have been lost to history. Medieval girls do not make legends. If they are lucky to live long enough, they make babies.
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About Andrea: Andrea Cefalo is the award-winning author of The Fairytale Keeper series. The Fairytale Keeper series is a Medieval tale of corruption, devotion, and the origins of Grimm’s fairytales. It was a quarter-finalist in Amazon’s 2013 Breakthrough Novel Contest and has been recommended by Riffle, Copperfield Review, and other various independent reviewers. The second novel in the series, The Fairest of All, will debut in 2014. When Andrea isn’t writing, she enjoys blogging and tweeting about the Middle Ages, teaching authors how to effectively use social media, and presenting in schools. She resides in Greenville, South Carolina with her husband and their two border collies.
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