Amanda's Beau (11 page)

On Sunday morning, Gil sat restlessly in the church pew, his Bible unopened on his lap. He didn't pay attention to a word the preacher said from the pulpit. Instead, he thought about how much he would have enjoyed planting a kiss on Amanda Dale's pretty pink cheek yesterday when they sat next to one another in the back of the wagon. A kiss on both cheeks. Her lips. He hadn't done so, of course. But still, something special had passed between them when they'd exchanged that long, searching glance. He'd seen it in her eyes. It was a recognition of sorts, an understanding. He felt certain he hadn't imagined it.

The pastor's words snapped Gil out of his romantic reverie. "If anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for his immediate family, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever." The pastor went on to explain the passage from first Timothy, chapter five, verse eight. The words of the sermon penetrated Gil's thoughts in a painful way, like salt applied to an open wound. Here was his problem in a nutshell. He couldn't provide for a family, not now. How foolish to think he and Amanda Dale could be more than friends.

Sure, he was smitten. Gil would admit it. But it could go no further. He had no home to offer her. While his nest egg was growing, there was not enough yet to buy land or breeding stock, let alone a house for a wife and children. For the longest time, his fondest dream had been to own a sprawling ranch and breed horses. Lord willing, the dream would come true one day soon. Then he'd met Amanda. The dream was the same, but now the focus had changed. Because he couldn't provide for her like the Good Book said, he shouldn't even contemplate a possible future with her until he was able to do so.

Instead, he needed to keep his mind on the task at hand: teaching the village youngsters to read, write, do their arithmetic, and strengthen their moral fiber. He wanted the school board to renew his contract in the spring. Some disgruntled parent, like Oz Lancaster, might convince them to hire another female teacher, as women were cheaper to employ. So it wasn't a sure thing he'd be offered a new contract in the spring. Now, Gil had to admit he didn't want to leave. He liked the village and was fond of his pupils. There was considerable land for sale in this part of the territory — land good for ranching, when he was ready and able to make a purchase. And of course, Amanda Dale lived here too.

He needed to concentrate on helping Nate Phillips with his archeological survey. If it proved successful, and Nate considered a full-scale excavation to be worthwhile, it could mean a great deal for the little farming community. It could be profitable for Gil too. He had summers off from teaching and felt certain Nate would hire him in some capacity. As foreman, perhaps.

Gil was still thinking of these matters late Monday morning while seated at his desk at the front of the classroom. He'd changed the page of his calendar from September to October and began making a list of words to use in the upcoming spelling bee. His students had their heads bowed over their work, all except little Bunny Bergschneider, who was staring wistfully out the window, lost in some daydream. Guilty of the same tendency, Gil didn't have the heart to reprimand the little girl.

Suddenly, there was a blaring honk, honk noise outside. One of the boys popped up out of his seat like a jack-in-the-box and raced to the window. "Stars and garters!" he declared with reverential awe.

Immediately, the other students surged from their seats toward the windows. Smiling, Gil shook his head. Nate! He had arrived. Gil put down his pen and covered his inkpot.

"That is Mr. Phillips, the archeologist," Gil informed them.

"Teacher, can we have recess now?" one of the younger boys asked.

Gil made his way to the door. Amused, he opened it calling out, "Recess," as he did so. The students darted outside to greet the newcomer.

Seated behind the wheel of his bright-red runabout, with its black leather seats, Nate Phillips waved a gloved hand when he spotted Gil in the doorway. He wore a long, buff-colored coat, goggles and a scarf, causing as big a stir as Gil had predicted. Grinning, Gil shook his head. To the children's delight, Nate sounded the horn again. Some of the little girls put their hands to their ears, but the boys bombarded him with questions.

"How fast can it go?"

"Honk the horn again, please, please!"

"Can I honk the horn, Mr. Phillips?"

Nate appeared to take the students' noisy welcome in stride as he stepped out of the amazing vehicle. Gil admired his long-time friend more than anyone else he knew. He was tall, handsome, and intelligent, with laughing brown eyes and dark blond hair. Except for the new, pencil-thin mustache he now sported, Nate appeared just the same as he had the last time they'd met — maybe a little more weathered and tan from being out in the sun on one excavation site or another, Gil noted.

Nate left the motor running. As the two old friends shook hands, Nate gripped Gil's shoulder. "How did you ever find this dreary place, Gilly boy?" he asked laughing. He didn't wait for Gil's reply, but spent the next several minutes answering the students' questions about the automobile.

Running his gloved hand across the door, he said, "I call this beauty, Atalanta," he told them.

"Why did you give it a name?" one of the youngsters asked.

"Don't your horses have names?" Nate quipped.

"Are you going to dig for skeletons?" Sammy Cordova asked, squinting up at him.

"I am indeed," Nate acknowledged.

"Students, this is Mr. Phillips," Gil said, by way of introduction. "Mr. Phillips, these are my pupils. I won't supply their names. You wouldn't remember them all anyway."

Gertrude slipped up beside the stranger and surprised him by taking hold of his hand. "Mr. Phillips, come see the relics we found near the river," she said, smiling up at him.

"Certainly, my dear," Nate replied. He gave her hand a squeeze. In a low aside to Gil, he said, "It's like this wherever I go. The ladies — young and old — are drawn to me like flies to honey."

Gil shot him a good-natured scowl as he shooed the students back into the schoolroom. Greta joined her twin in escorting their visitor over to the table where the artifacts had been put on display. Nate's eyes lit up when he saw the pottery, amulet, and crumbling building stones. The youngsters eagerly babbled about what they'd discovered at the ruins. When Nate picked up the willow mat, Rex piped in. "We found a skeleton sitting on that. He was sitting up, just like he was waiting for somebody to come find him."

Nate glanced at Gil and arched his eyebrows questioningly. Gil nodded. "Don't keep me in suspense any longer, my man. I implore you, take me to the ruins!" He pounded Gil on the back in a friendly manner.

"Now? Right now?" Gil asked glancing at the students clustered around them. How like Nate! It was the middle of a school day, but that didn't matter to him.

"Yes, now," Nate insisted. "Absolutely."

Gil regarded the upturned faces of his excited students. He guessed they wouldn't be able to concentrate on schoolwork for the remainder of the day anyway — not after Nate's impressive arrival.

"Class dismissed," he announced. To Nate, he said, "Let me get my coat."

The children squealed with delight. Some ran out the door, no doubt eager to tell their mothers about the arrival of the teacher's friend, Mr. Phillips. Others collected their books first and gave Nate lingering glances before making their departure. Several of the boys hovered near Atalanta, ogling her black leather seats and the shiny brass headlights. They stepped back as Nate took his seat behind the steering wheel. Gil heaved himself into the black leather seat beside him.

"What are you going to do when this thing runs out of gasoline?" he wanted to know.

"I brought an ample supply with me on the train," Nate assured him. "But in a pinch, this beauty can run on kerosene too. I have to warm her up with gasoline before pouring in the kerosene. I hired a freighter at the station in Farmington to bring all my supplies to your place. I told him to find the schoolhouse. That ought to be easy enough."

"I've rearranged my few sticks of furniture to make more room for you. Did you bring a cot?" Gil asked.

Nate gave a mild snort. "Sure, and boxes of canned goods, and ham. Lots of ham. You'll cook, of course. I've got to dig. Gil, living in a small room at the back of a schoolhouse — You think that is more civilized than living on a dig site?" He snorted again.

Gil said nothing. He knew Nate was just ribbing him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Rex Stewart and Jerry Snow running behind them. In a matter of minutes, they would arrive at the old settlement, which was about a mile from the edge of the village.

"I'm going to need to hire men and wagons," his friend said. "And some place to store my supplies and any artifacts I dig up. Do you think that will be a problem?"

"No," Gil replied. "I think you'll have more than enough men to hire on. How are you paying for this, by the way?"

"Out of my own pocket for now," Nate said. "Remember, this is just a survey. If I can come up with some impressive archeological evidence, then I can convince one of the universities back home to begin funding the project next spring and during the summer."

Gil nodded. He knew he didn't need to worry about Nate's finances. He came from a well-to-do family with deep pockets. Nate could afford to hire as many men, wagons, and horses as he desired.

"There it is," Gil told him, pointing to the abandoned Indian settlement.

Nate brought the automobile to a halt and put on the handbrake. Climbing out of the vehicle, he strode toward the collapsed walls of the ancient town. He ran his hand across the sandstone masonry. He poked at roof debris with the toe of his boot and examined the small but well-constructed window frames. Nate's delight was so immediately apparent, Gil was glad he'd taken the time to tell his old friend about the site.

As Nate walked the perimeter, tilting his head back to survey a few remnants of masonry walls still standing several stories high, Gil watched him with keen pleasure. It felt good to have been able to find something special like this to share with his best friend. Hearing the sound of running feet, he observed that Rex and Jerry had finally caught up with them. Breathless but eager, they fell behind Nate, keeping a respectful distance. They watched his every move. Gil considered telling the boys to go away for now. As he recalled, Nate wasn't fond of children, particularly when they got in the way of his work. On the other hand, this was an educational opportunity he felt the boys could benefit from.

"You were right, Gil. This is not an Aztec military outpost," Nate confirmed, striding toward him. He ignored the two boys altogether, not even acknowledging their presence. "I'd say this was a community of ancient pottery makers. We refer to them as the Anasazi. They were compulsive builders and farmers, who actually mastered the science of irrigation," he went on. "They were dead and gone by the time the Spanish made their way up here from Mexico."

"So they weren't famous warriors?" Jerry asked in a breathless rush.

Turning, Nate raised his eyebrows at him and shook his head.

"So you don't think you'll find any buried treasure?" Rex piped up.

Chuckling, Nate swiped his forehead with a large white handkerchief. "One man's trash is another man's treasure," he replied. When the boys regarded him dubiously, Nate explained. "I would consider a cache of pottery in mint condition a real treasure. No doubt, you wouldn't consider it a thrilling discovery at all."

"The boys are more interested in conquistador treasure, like helmets, swords, armor — and gold," Gil added with a wry smile. "I told them these Indians were long gone before the Spanish began exploring this territory."

"That's right," Nate confirmed. Noting the boys' disappointment, he shrugged asking, "Where did you find the skeleton?"

Gil pointed. "But you didn't leave me any time to collect candles and a rope or anything, so I don't think we'll be able to explore it today," he told him.

With a smirk, Nate said, "Wait here." He returned to the automobile. Gil watched him take things out of a large wooden box strapped to the back near the rear wheels. When he returned, Nate had a coiled rope ladder over one shoulder and a carbide lamp. "I came prepared. You should see the rest of the gear I've got coming later today. I sure hope you've got a place for me to put it all."

"I'm still thinking about that," Gil admitted. He wished he had a barn, but he didn't. He had to keep his own horse stabled at the livery. He wondered if Nate might find room there for his automobile too? But the supplies? Where could he find a conveniently located storage shed or unused barn where Nate could keep those?

Gil led his friend to the hole that led to the chamber he and his students had discovered the week before. Nate dropped the ladder into the dark, yawning cavity, securing it with two metal stakes. He clipped the lamp to his belt and removed his long driving coat, flinging it toward the boys. Jerry leaned forward to catch it. "Gil, are you coming?" Nate asked.

Rex cleared his throat and Gil, turning, saw the hopefulness on his face and Jerry's too. But he knew Nate would not appreciate having the boys underfoot. "You two stay up here and keep an eye on the automobile," he suggested. Seeing their shoulders slump, he added, "There will be other opportunities to explore with Mr. Phillips later on."

"All right, Mr. Gladney," Rex replied with obvious disappointment.

Gil nodded at him before making his way down the rope ladder. Nate was waiting for him below. "That way." With a thrust of his chin, Gil indicated the chamber that contained the human remains. Nate lifted the lamp and moved forward. Everything remained just as they'd left it.

Squatting down in front of the skeleton, Nate exclaimed with breathless enthusiasm, "Marvelous! This is more than I'd hoped for." He held up the carbide lamp and surveyed the chamber. He used his long fingers to examine the walls. He rose and began pushing, knocking and pressing against the walls to get a sense of their stability. Gil watched him with interest. Nate was in his element. This was what his friend loved most — the thrill of exploration, getting a glimpse into days gone by.