Chapter XXIV
“A rather nice Thanksgiving weekend,” Carrie said, as Henry turned to help her over the last pile of rocks. “It’s a good thing the weather is warm. I’ve ruined every heavy jacket I own. I need to go shopping.”
Behind them several voices echoed from the pictograph cave. Everyone there seemed to be having a fine time discussing how an artist from so long ago had created drawings with soap weed brushes dipped in a slurry made of what they thought was nothing more than clay dust, pounded charcoal, and water.
Rob was there with his friend Dr. Jane Gallant, who had turned out to be an art historian, not a painter.
Abner Hill, a lawyer from the Native American Rights Fund, had arrived on Friday, and there were three people from the history and archeology departments at the University of Arkansas and the University Museum. Carrie was quite worn out over being impressed at the array of knowledge crowded into the little cave. Everyone but Mr. Hill was Doctor somebody. Well, her son wasn’t really Dr. McCrite quite yet, but she’d noticed that he was holding his own in the scholarly discussions and that the others listened to him with attention and respect.
It was a relief that the archeologist from the National Museum of Natural History and his associate from the National Museum of the American Indian, both part of the Smithsonian, weren’t coming until next week and that Rob would still be here to help guide them.
But enough was enough, and no one had noticed when Carrie and Henry slipped quietly away through the narrow slit in the rock and out into the late November sunlight.
“It’s sort of overwhelming, isn’t it?” Carrie said as they found a large flat rock and sat so they could look over the whole valley. She leaned against Henry’s side, bent her knees to rest her feet on the rock, and remembered, only briefly, that Evan Walters had been sitting in the same place just a few days ago.
“Charles Stoker certainly seemed overwhelmed,” Henry said. “I’m not sure he even knows what the Smithsonian Institution is, but when Jason said Washington, DC, and then told him about the alternate quarry site... Of course, money talks too, and Jason has a way with people who have money. He already has two foundations interested in taking part. Now the valley will be safe, and it was mostly your doing. After all, you found the cave, and you and Shirley... ” He hesitated. “Well, things that needed resolving got resolved. That should more than take care of your contribution toward saving Walden Valley.”
Carrie didn’t remind him that Evan, and then JoAnne, had really discovered the cave.
“It is satisfying,” she said.
After a few minutes of silence, Henry continued. “I understand why you don’t want to talk about it yet, but I hope you can remember what happened here only as a time of great bravery. Yours, Cara, your bravery, your courage. Do you even begin to know how I feel about that? I’ve been with many brave people, and I can still hardly believe you did what you did. Can you think only of the courage and let the rest go?”
She looked up at his face, wondering, and saw first somberness, then the hint of a smile as he went on.
“If we were in the police department together, I’d fight hard to have you as my partner.”
“Oh,” was all she could manage to say in response.
Courage. Yes, maybe she did know what that word meant now. Someday she would tell him all about it, and what it had been like, and he’d be the only one she’d ever tell the whole story to, because he was the one she could trust to understand and say the right things, the healing things.
Then she might invite him to go to church with her on a Wednesday night, when she could stand up and tell about her prayers and how things had worked out.
She didn’t doubt now that Henry would go to church with her, and she didn’t care whether their coming into church together would signify some kind of commitment to each other or not. It was all right.
She almost chuckled out loud. Courage. And what she’d wanted to prove to him, and to her family, was that she could be independent, and strong, and clever. Oh, yes, Carrie McCrite, be honest—you wanted to impress this man, you really did. And look what happened!
The rock was sun-warmed, and the peace of the valley was working its magic again, making her feel quite lazy. She yawned and looked out at the scene in front of them.
The view was spectacular. Bits of red color remained here and there in maple, sumac, and dogwood leaves. In the distance she could see tiny figures among not-so-tiny black and white cows. Roger and Shirley were introducing Susan, Johnny, and Putt to “the girls.” The Burke-Williamses, too, had chosen to be outside on this glorious, sparkling day.
“What have you decided to do?” Carrie asked, turning her head to look up at Henry again. “Are you going to move?”
“Hmm. Well, I can’t really feel settled where I am, since Mrs. Foster may decide not to sell. If I live in Susan’s house and pay rent to her, they’ll be able to keep the house and have a place to stay when they come for visits. Putt told me yesterday he wished they could move here eventually and bring Johnny up in the special place two of his six grandparents chose as home.
“But then,” he said, as his brown eyes turned somber, “there’s something to be said for privacy, and quiet, and independence, as you have reminded me. So what do you think I should do?”
“I think,” she said, shutting her eyes and leaning her head back against his shoulder, “if it gets too noisy when they come for a visit, you should walk down the path and sleep on my couch. Or—” her voice was fading as the sun’s warmth moved gently through her body—“you might even use the guest room.”
The End
About the Author
Award-winning Arkansas writer and journalist Radine Trees Nehring and her husband, photographer John Nehring, live in the rural Arkansas Ozarks near Gravette.
Radine’s writing awards include the Governor’s Award for Best Writing about the State of Arkansas, Tulsa Nightwriter of the Year Award, and the Dan Saults Award, which is given by the Ozarks Writers League for nature- or Ozarks-value writing. The American Christian Writers named Nehring Christian Writer of the Year in 1998, and the Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc., named her book, Dear Earth, Best Non-Fiction Book and her novel, A Valley to Die For, Best Mystery Novel.
Radine is also the 2011 inductee into the Oklahoma Writers Hall of Fame.
Research for her many magazine and newspaper features and her weekly radio program, “Arkansas Corner Community News,” has taken the Nehrings throughout the state. For years Nehring has written non-fiction about unique people, places, and events in Arkansas. Now, in her mystery novel, A Valley to Die For, she adds appealing characters fighting for something they believe in and, it turns out, for their very lives.
Other books by Radine Trees Nehring include:
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Music to Die For
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A Treasure to Die For
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A River to Die For
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A Wedding to Die For
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A Journey to Die For
All the books listed above are available as print books and ebooks.