“I’ve found a lot of arrowheads straight ahead in that clearing,” Joe said. “But that doesn’t mean there’s a village.”
“Then let’s start there,” Jessie said eagerly. “Though I’m not sure I’d even recognize an arrowhead if I saw one.”
“Kinowok taught me a lot about them.” When they reached the clearing, Joe hunched down in the soft earth and opened the box of tools. “He can even tell what tribe they’re from.”
“We should start by making a grid,” Henry said. “That’s the way real archaeologists work.”
“A grid?” Benny was puzzled.
Henry drew several lines in the dirt with the end of a stick. “You see, if we divide the area up into squares, we can make sure we don’t go over the same place twice.”
“That’s a good idea,” Violet said. “I’ll take this square.”
For the next two hours, the children worked steadily, scraping away layers of dirt with the trowels.
“Look, Jessie,” Amy said, nudging her. “I think you’ve found an arrowhead. Or at least part of one.”
“Are you sure?” Jessie picked up a piece of gray stone and dusted it off.
“That’s an arrowhead, all right,” Joe said happily.
“It just looks like a plain old stone,” Jessie looked disappointed.
“Someone spent a long time making it,” Joe told her. He turned it over in his palm. “See all those little chips along the sides? You make those with a pointed hammer. Every time you hit the edge, a tiny flake flies off. And you have to make sure each little chip touches the next.”
Jessie ran her finger carefully along the edge, and drew back. “It’s really sharp.”
“Look,” Benny said excitedly, a little while later. “I found something!” He plucked a piece of bright orange pottery out of the dirt. “I think it’s part of a plate, or maybe a bowl.”
“It has a Navajo design on it,” Amy said. “See those two tents put together to form a diamond? That stands for north, south, east and west. The four points of the compass.”
“I bet we’re standing right over the lost village!” Benny said, reaching for the trowel. “I want to keep working all day.”
Amy laughed. “Don’t you want to take a break for lunch? We packed chicken sandwiches, and I have a thermos of lemonade.”
Benny looked up with interest. “Maybe a quick break,” he said eagerly.
It was late afternoon when the children returned to the Lightfeather home. Amy raced into the kitchen to show her mother their treasures.
“Jessie found an arrowhead, and Benny found some pottery,” she exclaimed. “I think we’re really on the trail of the ancient village, Mom.”
Mrs. Lightfeather gave a sad smile. “I’m happy that you enjoyed your dig, but I’m afraid your days there are numbered.”
“What do you mean?” Amy asked.
“We had a council meeting this morning, and it seems that a real estate developer is trying to take over the forest. He wants to build vacation homes there.”
“He’s going to chop down all those trees?” Joe asked.
“That’s right, if he gets a permit from the local government.” Mrs. Lightfeather poured tall glasses of juice for everyone. “So enjoy the forest while you can. There will be bulldozers there in a couple of weeks.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do to stop them?” Henry asked.
Mrs. Lightfeather looked thoughtful. “Well, if there’s really a village buried on that land, the real estate developer would have to stop, and archaeologists would excavate the site. That’s the law. But first you’d have to prove it’s really a historic site.”
“Then we’ll have to work harder than ever,” Amy promised. She looked at her new friends, the Aldens. “Let’s go to the dig every single day,” she said.
“Count us in,” Henry told her. “If there really is a lost village, we’ve got two weeks to find it.”
CHAPTER 3
Working at the Dig
“Is everybody ready for another day at the dig?” Amy asked at breakfast the next morning.
“We’re all set,” Henry said, finishing a big plate of bacon and eggs.
“Benny helped me pack sandwiches and a thermos of cider,” Joe added, pointing to a picnic basket. “We can work until sundown, if we want to.”
The six children were just heading out the front door when they nearly collided with a young man dressed in jeans and denim.
“Is Mrs. Lightfeather at home?” he asked politely. “I’m Michael Running Deer.”
“You must be new on the reservation,” Amy said, staring at the stranger.
“He’s not from the reservation,” Mrs. Lightfeather said, suddenly appearing in the front hall. “You didn’t waste any time,” she said, handing him a batch of official-looking papers. “This will show you the exact boundaries of the reservation.”
“Thanks,” the young man said, tucking the papers under his arm. “The bulldozers will be here before we know it,” he added heading down the front walk.
“Mom, who was that?” Joe asked, concerned.
His mother sighed. “Michael Running Deer works for the real estate developer,” she said sadly. “I’m afraid we’re very close to losing the forest.”
“Then let’s get going,” Benny said, barreling out the door. “Maybe we can find the lost village today!”
Mrs. Lightfeather smiled. “That would be wonderful, Benny, but don’t count on it.”
It was a bright, sunny day and, by mid-morning, Henry and Joe decided to take a break. They had just settled down on a log to drink some cider, when they were surprised by a young woman in a nice dress and high heels, with a video camera slung over her shoulder.
“Oh,” she said, startled. “I didn’t expect to find anybody here.” She looked at the grid Henry had drawn in the soft earth, and the mounds of dirt that the children had overturned. “I guess I should introduce myself,” she said in a friendly voice. “I’m Rita Neville.”
“I’m Henry Alden and this is my friend, Joe Lightfeather,” Henry told her.
“What are they doing?” the woman asked, pointing to Jessie and Amy who were vigorously digging with their trowels.
Henry hesitated. The lost village was a secret, and he knew that Joe didn’t feel like sharing it with anyone.
“It looks like a treasure hunt,” she prompted, when no one answered her.
“It’s more like a scavenger hunt,” Joe said finally. “We’re playing a game.”
“Well, have fun.” She took another quick look at the dig and turned to leave. “I’ve got to get back to work now.” Her high heels sank into the soft earth, and she nearly stumbled.
“Excuse me, but what are you working on?” Joe asked.
“I’m a television producer,” she said brightly. She patted her camera case. “I’m planning a documentary on Indian life, and I need some location shots.”
“But this isn’t part of the reservation,” Henry told her.
“Oh, I know,” she said quickly. “I just felt like taking a hike. I’m staying at Morton’s Motel.”
“What did you think of her?” Henry asked when Rita Neville was out of earshot.
Joe shrugged. “I don’t think she wandered here by mistake. Nobody goes for a hike dressed up like that.”
“You’re right. There isn’t even a path.” He squinted at the midday sun, just as Violet called to him from the dig.
“Hey, break time is over!” she teased him.
Henry nodded. “I guess we should get back to work.”
It was late afternoon when Violet squealed in surprise. “Look what I found!” she said, pointing to a dark red circle in the dirt.
“What is it?” Jessie asked.
“I think it’s the rim of a plate, or bowl,” Henry said excitedly. “And it looks like it’s not even broken. You’ll have to be careful getting it out in one piece.”
“I’m going to take my time,” Violet said. She hunched over her f
ind and began brushing away layers of earth. After a few minutes, she sank back on her heels. “There it is!”
“It’s beautiful,” Jessie told her. Together they lifted the large earthenware bowl out of the sandy soil. “And there’s not even a single chip on it.”
“Violet, I think you found something important,” Joe said.
“I want to find a bowl, too!” Benny said eagerly.
Amy laughed. “All right, Benny. But I don’t think we’ll be lucky twice in one day.”
At the end of the day’s work, the four Aldens were tired, but happy. After congratulating Violet on finding the bowl, Mrs. Lightfeather talked about plans for the Pow-Wow.
“We really need to get started on a project. The Pow-Wow is only a week away,” she said. She turned to the Aldens. “Who wants to be my helper?”
“I’ll volunteer!” Violet spoke up. “What are we going to make?”
“Corn pudding.”
“Corn pudding?” Benny wrinkled his nose.
“You’ll love it,” Amy promised. “It’s got cornmeal, molasses, and lots of spices. Mom makes it on the stove, but in the old days, it would have cooked for hours over the fire.”
“What about us? What can we do?” Benny spoke up.
“You and Henry can help me make some belts,” Joe said. “I’ve already cut the leather and made the buckles, but there’s lots of bead work to do.”
“You’re making belts?” Benny looked surprised. “Why not just buy some?”
Joe laughed. “You can’t buy belts like these. Each one is handmade, and they all have designs from our tribe.” He turned to Henry. “We can get started after dinner tonight.”
Later that evening, Amy took Violet and Jessie to see her Appaloosa pony named Thunder. It was a short walk from the Lightfeathers’ house to the reservation’s stable, and Thunder whinnied with pleasure when he saw the girls.
“He’s really gentle,” Amy said. She held up a plastic bag filled with apple slices. “This is his favorite treat. You can feed him, if you want to.”
“Could we ride him sometime?” Jessie asked.
“Maybe tomorrow,” Amy said. “After we work at the dig. I’m really getting excited about it, aren’t you?”
Violet was about to answer when a noise behind her made her jump.
“Sorry, girls,” said a tall blond man in his early thirties. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He had come into the stable so quietly that they hadn’t heard him. “Nice horse,” he added, patting Thunder on the neck. “Pinto, right?”
“He’s an Appaloosa,” Amy corrected him. She stared at him, puzzled. She knew he didn’t live on the reservation.
“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here,” he said casually. “I’m Ted Clark. I’m a genealogist.” He grinned at the blank looks on the girls’ faces. “A genealogist is someone who traces family trees.”
“Do you mean grandparents and great-grandparents?” Amy asked.
“Even further back than that. I’m hoping to go back five or six generations in my family. The council gave me permission to look through their records.”
“Oh,” Amy said, understanding. “You’re a Navajo?”
“Partly,” Ted Clark said. “Most of my family, I mean my ancestors, come from the northeast. Places like Maine and New Hampshire.”
“Welcome to the reservation,” Amy said.
“Thanks. Nice necklace you’re wearing,” he said, noticing the heavy silver strand around Amy’s neck. “That’s a pretty stone in the center. An opal, right?”
Amy touched the bright blue stone. “No, it’s a turquoise.”
“Oh, I’ve never seen one before. Well, I’d better get going. I’m staying at the motel in town, and I’ve got a lot of work to do. Nice to meet you.”
After he left, Jessie and Violet fed Thunder while Amy used a curry brush to smooth his mane.
“Something’s wrong,” Amy said quietly.
“What?” Jessie looked up as Thunder nuzzled her hand.
“Ted Clark.” She shook her head. “He said he’s part Navajo, but he couldn’t even recognize a piece of turquoise.”
Jessie shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t know much about stones.”
“It’s more than that,” Amy persisted. She touched the blue stone around her neck. “Turquoise is very important to my people, and we use it in a lot of our jewelry. There’s even a legend about it.”
“Oh, tell us,” Violet said. She loved stories and enjoyed hearing tales about the Navajo people.
“I guess you’d call it a fairy tale. Once there was a woman who found a beautiful blue stone — a piece of turquoise. It was the prettiest stone she had ever seen, and she took it to the top of a high mountain. When she set it down, it turned into a goddess right before her eyes.” She paused. “I’ve heard that story ever since I was a little girl. I wonder why Ted Clark had never heard it.”
After they locked the stable, the three girls headed back to the Lightfeather house.
“Jessie, I just realized something,” Amy said. “You don’t have a project for the Pow-Wow. Would you like to do an Indian dance with me?”
“An Indian dance?” Jessie repeated. “Would I be allowed to?”
“We can talk to Kinowok, but I’m sure he’ll say yes. At the Pow-Wow, we can explain that you’re not a Navajo, but you’re a guest. When we dance at the Pow-Wow, sometimes guests join in. It’s our way of sharing our customs with the townspeople.”
“It sounds like fun, but …” Jessie hesitated. “Do you think I’ll be able to learn the dance in time to perform it?”
Amy nodded. “The dance is very simple. The hard part is making the regalia.”
“What’s regalia?” Violet asked.
“It’s an authentic Navajo dress from the old days. You would probably call it a costume, but we call it regalia. Don’t worry, Jessie,” she said encouragingly. “I’ll help you with it.”
Later that evening, Jessie noticed Henry and Joe sifting through boxes of colored beads on the dining-room table. Benny was frowning over a pad of graph paper, nibbling the end of his pencil.
“What are you doing?” Jessie asked curiously.
“We’re working on our beaded belts, but I can’t think of what to draw. Joe says that first you make a picture on this special paper, and then you choose the beads. That’s the fun part.” He pointed to some crumbled-up graph paper. “But I’m stuck. I can’t think of anything I want to draw.”
Jessie thought for a moment. “What about an eagle?” she asked, thinking of the beautiful design on her bedspread.
Benny brightened. “That’s a great idea!” He immediately bent down and began drawing the outline of an eagle with outspread wings.
CHAPTER 4
Footprints
It was two days later when Henry realized that something strange was going on at the dig. “I just don’t get it.” He nudged the soft earth with the toe of his shoe. “I worked all yesterday afternoon on this square, and now it’s filled in with dirt.”
“Maybe you were working on the square next to it,” Jessie offered. “It’s easy to get confused.”
“No, I know it was this one,” Henry insisted. “I had gotten through all the topsoil, and I was just starting to find some bits of pottery. Now I’ve got to start all over!”
Joe squatted back on his heels. “Somebody filled in my square, too,” he said quietly. “And take a look at these tracks.” He pointed to a trail of tiny round holes that led around the edge of his dig.
“What kind of tracks? Deer tracks?” Benny jumped up. He thought it would be a lot of fun to be able to identify animal tracks, like Joe and Amy could.
Joe laughed. “I’m afraid not, Benny. These are human tracks.”
“They don’t look like footprints,” Violet said. “Some of them are too little and round.”
“That’s because they’re made from a woman’s high-heeled shoes,” Amy explained.
“Ms. Neville!” Henry excl
aimed. “Remember the day she came to the dig in those high heels and nearly tripped?”
Joe nodded. “She must have come back to take another look around.”
“But why would she want to wander around the dig at night? And why would she fill in the holes we made?” Jessie wondered.
Henry shook his head. “I have no idea. But I think we’d better get back to work.”
They were busy with their trowels when something shiny in the dirt caught Benny’s eye. Maybe it was a glass bead or part of a hunting knife! “Oh shucks,” he said, when he bent down for a closer look. “It’s just an old key ring. And there aren’t even any keys on it.”
“Let’s have a look.” Henry examined the small red square dangling from a tarnished chain. The letter M was emblazoned on it. “Here, Benny,” he said, returning it. “Keep it safe. Maybe we’ll find the owner.”
“And maybe we’ll find out who’s been sneaking around the dig,” Jessie added.
The sun was setting when the children left the dig and made their way through the forest. A sudden cracking sound from the forest made them jump, and Violet spun around in surprise.
“Sorry to frighten you,” Ted Clark said, emerging from behind a tree. He rubbed his ankle and winced. “I’m afraid I tripped over a fallen branch.”
“What were you doing in the middle of the forest?” Benny asked curiously.
“Just taking a look around.” He paused, glancing at Henry’s knapsack. “Are you kids on a hike or something?”
“No, we’ve just been — ” Violet stopped suddenly. Something in Jessie’s expression made her cautious. “Playing,” she added firmly.
“There’s not much place to play around here,” Ted said, glancing at the dense forest. He gestured in the direction of the dig. “What’s over that way? Anything worth looking at?”
“Just a lot of poison ivy,” Joe spoke up. “But if you head over that way” — he pointed away from the dig — “there are some pretty nice trails.”
After Ted left, Benny edged closer to Violet. “At least we know that’s not his key ring. I wish we could find out who ‘M’ is!”