of this by himself, if you're done with the plan."
She smiled, pouting a little, knowing exactly what I was saying. "I'm done. I was just initialing the map, Em. I'm almost through the burn layer in my unit and I'm not getting much." She retied her hair, preparing to get back into the dirt. "A little eighteenth-century stuff."
"That's what Meg's got. You guys go up and see what she's up to, see if you're getting the same sorts of soil changes down here as she is up there."
"You got it."
I looked around. "Where's Neal?"
"Over with Meg," Dian said. Then, deadpanning, "Maybe he's helping her map her unit."
I gave her a sour look. "I'll be writing notes if anyone wants me. Back to work, you."
She smiled again, showing all her teeth. I liked Dian but didn't fancy Rob's chances if she decided to respond to his advances.
On my way upslope, however, I paused, noticing that the black car I'd seen earlier had returned and was now idling in the road above the driveway. I could see the driver this time--or more of him, at any rate--a tangle of light hair, baseball cap, a mustache. He seemed familiar to me, but just before I could dig up the identifying memory, he roared off again. Car needs a tune-up, I thought, frowning. Still unable to place the driver's face, I decided that if he was really interested in the dig, he'd get out and ask a few questions.
At last I was finally able to settle down to take my opening notes. Near the top of the slope, I had set up a card table between the barn and the bulk of the excavation units to keep my maps and notes on. We'd collected beach cobbles the first day, just to weigh down the papers that were constantly threatened by the wind off the river. It was a little up to the north of all of the work areas, where I could have a decent view of everyone and keep an ear and eye open while I sorted out my thoughts. The notes were inevitably, at this stage, a jumble of observations, reflections, memos to myself, even personal impressions of morale and activity. Already I was able to start making connections between finds and stratigraphy across the site, even a few tentative correlations between the court documents that were generated by the legal proceedings at the expedition's demise. By the end of the month I had in the field, I might be able to determine whether we actually had sufficient evidence of the location of the site. And much later, during the long, cold winter that would be spent in my lab at Caldwell College, all those notes would trigger my memories of the site and aid in the interpretation of it all, continuing to compare with what others at other sites had been able to piece together before me.
I finished, then watched Neal looking over Meg's shoulder, thinking I might be able to figure out what the problem was between those two. I kept my head down over my notes and kept my ears wide open. I make no apologies for eavesdropping. For one thing, it was my site, and that meant I was god of my small universe and therefore got to be omniscient when I chose. The other thing was that a good half of directing came down to personnel management.
My worktable was a little too conveniently placed at the moment; I could see and hear everything that was going on in Meg's unit. That was not a coincidence--I had no idea how much of an eye I'd have to keep on this newest student, but as it turned out, her excavating ability wasn't a problem at all. Quite the opposite. But considering Neal's vehemence last night, I thought I'd better pay heed.
"What you got there?" I heard Neal ask. "It looks like it's shaping up into a posthole."
"It is and I just got a piece of shot," Meg said excitedly. "I think it's early enough to be from Fort Providence! I'm just getting ready to take it out now."
I almost started out of my seat when I heard that. If the lead ball was the size used in muskets of the early seventeenth century, then this would be the first artifact we found in situ that was associated with
She smiled, pouting a little, knowing exactly what I was saying. "I'm done. I was just initialing the map, Em. I'm almost through the burn layer in my unit and I'm not getting much." She retied her hair, preparing to get back into the dirt. "A little eighteenth-century stuff."
"That's what Meg's got. You guys go up and see what she's up to, see if you're getting the same sorts of soil changes down here as she is up there."
"You got it."
I looked around. "Where's Neal?"
"Over with Meg," Dian said. Then, deadpanning, "Maybe he's helping her map her unit."
I gave her a sour look. "I'll be writing notes if anyone wants me. Back to work, you."
She smiled again, showing all her teeth. I liked Dian but didn't fancy Rob's chances if she decided to respond to his advances.
On my way upslope, however, I paused, noticing that the black car I'd seen earlier had returned and was now idling in the road above the driveway. I could see the driver this time--or more of him, at any rate--a tangle of light hair, baseball cap, a mustache. He seemed familiar to me, but just before I could dig up the identifying memory, he roared off again. Car needs a tune-up, I thought, frowning. Still unable to place the driver's face, I decided that if he was really interested in the dig, he'd get out and ask a few questions.
At last I was finally able to settle down to take my opening notes. Near the top of the slope, I had set up a card table between the barn and the bulk of the excavation units to keep my maps and notes on. We'd collected beach cobbles the first day, just to weigh down the papers that were constantly threatened by the wind off the river. It was a little up to the north of all of the work areas, where I could have a decent view of everyone and keep an ear and eye open while I sorted out my thoughts. The notes were inevitably, at this stage, a jumble of observations, reflections, memos to myself, even personal impressions of morale and activity. Already I was able to start making connections between finds and stratigraphy across the site, even a few tentative correlations between the court documents that were generated by the legal proceedings at the expedition's demise. By the end of the month I had in the field, I might be able to determine whether we actually had sufficient evidence of the location of the site. And much later, during the long, cold winter that would be spent in my lab at Caldwell College, all those notes would trigger my memories of the site and aid in the interpretation of it all, continuing to compare with what others at other sites had been able to piece together before me.
I finished, then watched Neal looking over Meg's shoulder, thinking I might be able to figure out what the problem was between those two. I kept my head down over my notes and kept my ears wide open. I make no apologies for eavesdropping. For one thing, it was my site, and that meant I was god of my small universe and therefore got to be omniscient when I chose. The other thing was that a good half of directing came down to personnel management.
My worktable was a little too conveniently placed at the moment; I could see and hear everything that was going on in Meg's unit. That was not a coincidence--I had no idea how much of an eye I'd have to keep on this newest student, but as it turned out, her excavating ability wasn't a problem at all. Quite the opposite. But considering Neal's vehemence last night, I thought I'd better pay heed.
"What you got there?" I heard Neal ask. "It looks like it's shaping up into a posthole."
"It is and I just got a piece of shot," Meg said excitedly. "I think it's early enough to be from Fort Providence! I'm just getting ready to take it out now."
I almost started out of my seat when I heard that. If the lead ball was the size used in muskets of the early seventeenth century, then this would be the first artifact we found in situ that was associated with
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