The Mojave Heathen by Robert F. Clifton (book recommendations website txt) 📕

glass bottle. Both the archeologist and the anthropologist agreed that it was either a whiskey or medicine bottle at one time. Then, hundreds of bones began being unearthed. Cortland examined each bone and after determining that none of them were human

theorized that the bones were those of the game Hopkins killed, cooked and ate. “We’re now working it what was once Chester Hopkins, garbage pit,” said Ben.

Bingham working alone after a few hours uncovered a flat,

piece of steel. It was approximately two inches wide and an inch long. He showed it to Edith who thought that what George had found was the remains of what use to be the blade of a three inch wide chisel. After showing the artifact to Ben, he thought that it

was probably eighteen inches long at one time. The piece of chisel blade like the other things found that day were photographed, and safe guarded. That evening, the Security Force provided by Bingham arrived and guarded the area until the next morning when the research crew arrived to work.

After three days working at the site and recovering unimportant items from Hopkins garbage pit, Ben realized that any attempts he made to find the remains of the Anasazi or any Paleo-Indians would have to be made in another spot. As the students and George Bingham continued to work in the black soil Ben turned his attention to the pile of red and yellow stained rocks. “ That pile has to be one made by Hopkins as he worked, using a pick, sledge hammer, chisels and shovel. If so, then perhaps, just perhaps the remains of what he called the body of a heathen is still there where Hopkins reburied him,” Ben thought to himself. He stood for several minutes looking at the pile from where he stood at what he now called, “Hopkins Dump”. He began to create a theory in his mind. “ Assuming that Hopkins

was right handed it’s just possible that as he worked, smashing and picking his way through rock looking for gold he would pick up loose rock. First, to examine it hoping to find gold ore. Second to toss it out of his way. With his right hand in all probability he tossed the rock to his right. That means he dug to the left of the pile.”

That evening at dinner Ben told Edith of his idea and his plans to explore left of the rock pile. “I hope this doesn’t leave you too short handed at Hopkins Dump,” he said.

Edith laughed. Why do you call it that. So far we’ve recovered many items, artifacts if you will. True, I will admit that so far we’ve found nothing that could be considered an earth shattering find, but we just might. At the same time the students are gaining experience. That in itself makes this project worthwhile. I understand your feelings and I know what you are looking for. By all means work based upon your theory. Perhaps George can assist you in some way. By the way. Where is he?”

“He’s out at the dig. Don’t forget he’s in charge of the security for the site. I’d imagine, knowing him he’s telling them how to do their job. Now, as far as him assisting me? No thank you. He’s a nice enough fellow and I’ll admit rather good as an amateur archeologist, but kind of rough in his technique. He might be destroying relics instead of recovering them whole.

I’ll move the rocks myself,” said Ben.

“How about one of the male students?”, asked Edith.

“No. Let them continue doing what they’re doing. Like you said. They’re gaining experience. Anyone can move rock.

Even a dumb anthropologist like me,” Ben replied.

“You’re certainly not dumb.”

“No? I’ve been chasing a theory most of my professional life. First, that man evolved all over the world at the same time.

I’ve searched the Southwest of the United States looking for the remains of the Anasazi or Paleo Indians and what I have I got to show for it? A three room rented apartment in New Jersey, a ten year old Ford sedan and two thousand dollars in debt with my credit card,” Ben replied.

“And, the opportunity to find what you’ve been searching for, book deals, a professorship somewhere, along with the ability to marry any time you ask me,” said Edith.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

The Heathen

 

Drops of perspiration ran down from his forehead and into his eyes as Ben Cortland labored, moved large rocks under a hot sun from what he was certain was Chester Hopkins prospecting site.

Ten yards behind him the University students worked slowly removing layers of soil using trowels and hard and soft brushes. Late in the morning, Emma Blake uncovered a pottery pitcher. Showing it to Edith the item was washed, removing over a hundred years of below ground soil. Edith then identified the now, exposed and cleaned, brown and yellow glazed vessel as a Pottery Pitcher. “This was probably turned and fired in Vermont early in the eighteen hundreds. It has what is called a flint, enamel glaze. Hopkins could have used it in many ways. The good thing is that it is intact,” said Edith.

George Bingham got up off of his knees and walked over to where Edith stood holding the pitcher. “What an excellent find. It will look good in my collection,” he said.

“Only if the United States Government releases it to you.

Keep in mind George right now everything we find becomes federal property,” said Edith.

“Not if they’re not aware of it,” Bingham replied.

“What you’re suggesting is not only illegal, but such an unethical action would destroy Ben and my reputations in our respected fields,” said an indignant Edith.

“Providing we got caught,” George argued.

“ Don’t even think about it. Everything we find is secure in photographs, written reports and the witnesses of four working

University students. Now, that’s all there is to it. No one takes anything. No souvenirs,” said Edith as she walked away with the pitcher.

“May I remind you of just how much money I’ve spent supporting you and your students!”, shouted Bingham.

“No, you remind me everyday. Besides, you’re going to write off the expense when it’s tax time,” Edith replied.

Ben, upon hearing the exchange of loud voices turned from his work and stood and listened. He smiled, knowing that Edith had had the last word in the argument. He bent down again and began picking up large rocks. “This has to be the place where Hopkins called, his digs. The pile of rock I’m looking at and adding to contains limestone, sandstone and quartzite. All from the Devonian period. The pile is high and it was man made. There are no hill or mountains here so the rocks did not come from a landslide, Ben thought to himself as he worked.

After three days of laboring the area thought to be Hopkins digs was cleared. Ben was now ready to begin removing loose soil and stones and to search for whatever it was that the prospector had uncovered and reburied. As he lifted a shovel he turned to the sound of excited voices. He stood, watched and listened As George Bingham held up what was later identified as a ceramic jar lid. Once again, after further study by Edith the relic was thought to be the lid to a tobacco jar. It was also known to be another piece of Vermont pottery.

Ben began to dig, removing soil and stones carefully, afraid to cut or break anything that might be just under the next level of material he removed. He stopped digging when Edith walked up and stood next to him. She handed him a bottle of water. “Drink this. I’ve watching you sweat for the past three hours.

You know you have to replace fluids, particularly here,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said taking the bottle from her.

“So, do you really think that this is where Hopkins found both his gold and the body of an Indian?,”she asked.

“I’m almost certain. I’m basing my idea on this man made rock pile. That plus the fact that the place where you are working is ten yards away,” explained Ben.

“One of the boys found charcoal. It was probably one of Hopkins cook fires,” said Edith.

“Good, that and the fact that I’ve found quartzite just about confirms that this is the right place,” said Ben.

“George Bingham walked up and joined the two scientists.

“Have found anything yet?”, he asked of Ben.

“No, not yet. I’m convinced that we’re at the right place. Now, it’s just a matter of time before we either find what I’m looking for or shut down,” Ben answered.

“Just imagine how far ahead we would be now if you had determined the right place to begin with. Have you any idea how much it cost me a day here? Hotel, meals, security, car rentals. It all adds up. On top of that I’m refused an artifact for my collection,” George complained.

“You knew what you were getting into before you decided to join this endeavor. The rules and the law were explained to you.

Yet, you still insist that you will do just what you want despite those rules and law. Let me refresh your memory. Edith is the project manager. That means she is responsible that members of this enterprise work according to the agreement we made with the university and The National Park Service before we started. As far as me making mistakes on Hopkins digging sites try ascertaining correct information from a journal written over one hundred years ago. A journal by the way that did not list too many land marks. Now, I’m starting to get just a bit peeved with you and your spoiled brat attitude. I suggest two things. Either follow the rules or get the hell out of here,” said Ben.

“Oh, I’ll follow the rules. Then, when this is all over I’ll sue you for the money I lost while you meandered all over Death Valley, saying, “This is the spot. No, this is the spot. Wait a minute I think the real spot is here,” said George as he walked away in anger.

Hours later, Ben stepped on the top of the shovel he was using. He felt the usual feel of the shovel cutting through the earth. He stepped back and lifted the tool full of soil and stones.

When he did he suddenly detected the acrid odor of something buried. It suddenly came to him that what he was smelling appeared to be like that of spent gunpowder. “ Son of a bitch!

The smell. The thing that Hopkins wrote about. A smell of spent gunpowder. It’s here. It’s right here. Whatever it is it’s still active.

He looked down at the last shovel full of dirt he had turned. It was black in color. Not black like the surrounding soil but rather black like charcoal as a residue of something that had at one time burned at a highly intensified heat source. Ben knelt down on one knee. With his bare fingers he moved them through the pile. Feeling stones and pebbles he removed a large one then stood and examined it. He was not a geologist, but had some knowledge of the subject. “ Igneous. Igneous rocks are created when molten material cools. There are no volcano’s here or anywhere near here. Yet, something created enough heat to cause rocks or stones to heat to the melting point, then cooled creating what I’m looking at. Think. Think back. My original thought was that on the particular night that Hopkins wrote about, I theorized that possibly, just possibly what Hopkins thought he saw and heard was actually a meteor entering earths atmosphere. If so, parts of the meteor upon breaking up could still have been hot enough to

change earth material into igneous rock. If I’m right then there should be pieces of chondrite material here. Chondrites are the most common meteors that fall to earth,” Ben thought. He knelt again and searched through the dirt pile. He found nothing.

“Edith!”, he called.

Edith Shipley looked up from