Free Arizona Homecoming by Pamela Tracy Page B

to the museum were slim to none. The adults had already seen the displays. The children would be on a sugar high from the library function, and a museum wasn’t a place to work off energy.
    “Maybe.” She started for the door to the main room but paused to let him finish reading a plaque about the museum’s beginning as well as two framed newspaper articles highlighting special events, both orchestrated by her.
    “Last year you had a Civil War reenactment?” He sounded surprised. “I guess I’ve never really connected Arizona with that time period.”
    “Briefly, very briefly during our territorial days, we were Confederate. Not my area of history, and I’ve nothing in the museum from that period. But, I have a friend who’s on the Arizona Civil War Council. He convinced his group to do a performance here. We had a flag raising and the reenactment, but what brought the most guests was the period weaponry. We had live demonstrations. I even got to fire a Colt revolving rifle.”
    He let out a low whistle.
    “But I preferred the saber.”
    He whistled again, leaving the framed articles and coming to stand way too close to her.
    The air conditioner kicked on and Emily felt the tiniest of goose bumps prickle her arms. Good thing she could blame the air-conditioning.
    “This area is all part of the Pearl Ranch. Used to be a huge operation. I don’t even know the Pearl who owns it now. This tiny section was given to the city of Apache Creek a long time ago by a woman named Mary Pearl. She owned a lot of what we have on display in the gem and mineral room. I think she just wanted the world to see her collection. She died before I took over as curator.”
    “How long has the museum been here?”
    “Just over forty-two years.”
    “Did she give funds to maintain the museum?”
    “She did. They ran out a long time ago, though. For the last thirty years, there’s an organization called Friends of Apache Creek. They started a campaign, somehow got a more-than-decent grant and really rejuvenated the museum. It was a labor of love. In the nineties, it took off and they hired the first curator.”
    “Not you.”
    She laughed. “No, I’m the third one. First one was a New York transplant who lasted about four years. He couldn’t seem to get excited about the desert landscape.”
    To her surprise, he really looked interested as he walked behind her and soon beside her.
    “It probably didn’t help that back then they had a live rattlesnake as part of the display, and the curator was expected to feed it.”
    Donovan shook his head at the display of teeth next to a hypodermic syringe. “I’ve met a dozen of these guys up close and personal out at the Baer place.”
    “Hiding under shrubs, huh?”
    “I’m not sure they were all hiding. I made sure to keep an eye out last Monday as we walked around collecting evidence.”
    “True,” Emily agreed. “Rattlesnakes like heat.”
    “Fun.”
    “And Arizona has more rattlesnake species than anywhere else.”
    “I don’t think anyone told George Baer.”
    Emily’s eyes lit up. “Why didn’t I think of putting that on one of my protest flyers?”
    They left the rattlesnake display, went to the Jacob Waltz exhibit and finished with the Salado.
    “This room’s small, lots of empty space, but I’ve been following a couple of private collectors and I think I might be able to really make something of this display if I can get them to loan me a few artifacts. People love to see their names, gold plated, as benefactors.”
    “Are the Salado and Hopi related? You’re Hopi, right?”
    “Half-Hopi. The Salado are ancient. The term Hopi came about in the sixteenth century, not ancient. Before that, we were Pueblo.”
    “I see.”
    “ Hopituh Shi-nu-mu , Hopi , it means ‘the peaceful people.’” She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or laugh with him, so she simply smiled and began telling him her five-year plan.
    That’s when the phone rang.
    “Excuse me.” She