Free Arizona Homecoming by Pamela Tracy Page A

A moment later she finished a banana, followed by five crackers and a bottle of water. Times like these, she wished the museum gift area was more than just a few items for sale by the cashier. A candy bar would be perfect just now.
    Of course, that would add one more job description to her already-full agenda: curator, cleaning staff, accountant, cashier.
    She turned on the lights, adjusted the temperature and went around checking the exhibits. Today as she walked, her prayers were focused on giving God praise for what He was doing with the library. She thanked Him also for the attentive children who’d been so taken with her story. Then, she segued to her family, especially Eva, who’d looked so cute, so very pregnant, kneeling before the loom. Emily ended with a prayer request for the museum and its future.
    When it was winter, she actually had volunteers helping out. The snowbirds donated a few hours a week to welcoming visitors and walking them around. Emily did maintenance, caught up on record keeping and wrote.
    June through September, she was alone.
    Still, she was doing better than her predecessor. He’d worked the museum for twenty-five years and not one thing had changed.
    The barn had been storage for junk. What a waste of space.
    She had a dozen ideas, but no budget and even less time. What she really wanted was to stop waitressing at the Lost Dutchman Ranch unless her family was truly in a pinch. But the money she made there enabled her to pay her bills and pretty much do what she needed to do—like attend the Native American History Conferences and buy items for the museum. It gave her time to write articles that challenged how Native American history was represented in museums around the United States.
    Sitting down at the front desk, she stared through the door that led to the main room and thought, This is my museum. I will make it the best it can be.
    She just needed more visitors and the funds to do more than pay the bills. She turned on the computer and went right to email. Her last report to the board showed they were not running on a deficit. Thankfully, the Lost Dutchman Museum was not a million-dollar structure with high costs. The city of Apache Creek owned the building and land outright. If not for the museum’s high electricity costs, they’d turn a profit. Still, at least one board member, Darryl Feeney, argued that the number of visitors kept dwindling and the electricity bill kept escalating.
    Right now, Emily’s biggest fear was they’d close the museum in the summer and only open for the winter. If that happened, she’d become a part-time employee.
    “I need an endowment,” she muttered.
    The words had barely left her lips when a truck pulled into the parking lot.
    Donovan Russell.
    Emily stood and made sure no cracker crumbs peppered her dark blue Lost Dutchman Museum shirt. She’d had it made a few months ago when her father ordered more uniform shirts for the Lost Dutchman Ranch. She’d ordered three extra for the volunteers who would start in a few months.
    Donovan stepped down from his truck and squinted in the sun before moving her way.
    She met him at the door. “Festivities in town over?”
    “No, but they’re winding down. I watched your dad driving the tractor with the hay wagon down Main Street. Timmy was with him.”
    “Dad loves the tractor and Timmy loves my dad.”
    A shadow crossed his face. She looked up to see if there were clouds, but not a one.
    “I have a free afternoon, so I came to see your museum.”
    “It’s not exactly mine.”
    “That’s not what I hear.” His smile was indulgent, his eyes kind.
    “Don’t go all sweet on me,” she cautioned. “I’m still charging you admittance. That will be five dollars.”
    He pulled a leather wallet from his back pocket and paid. “I take it I get a private tour.”
    “Until our next visitor arrives.”
    “Which won’t be until after the library event ends?”
    The odds of any townies making their way