Page 86 of Red Hawk's Woman

Also, initially, hadn’t Effie been concerned about Owens’s possible jealousy? Although her father had reassured her that Owens would be happy to act as her second-in-command, hadn’t the situation been enough of an anxiety that she had mentioned it once to Lesley?

Could it be that Owens resented her presence here on the project? It seemed more and more probable that he did. John Owens was most likely envious of her, the age-old story of the elder being overlooked in favor of the younger.

But if that were so, why was he here? Why hadn’t he declined the invitation? Loyalty to her father perhaps? Or was it the lure of one final dig that brought him here?

Effie realized that in the days to come, she would have ample opportunity to dispel Owens’s resentment of her. She’d never feel comfortable asking these questions of him, for they were too direct, but if she were able, she could at least show herself to be competent. And if all went well, he should be her friend again.

Meanwhile, she would put this most recent exchange behind her. Yes, this 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. This 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 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, did you not see how the lay of the land goes steeply downward?”

Effie had been ready to answer, for she, too, had taken this 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 an artifact which could be of some 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 had 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.