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Authors: Linda McQuinn Carlblom

Bailey and the Santa Fe Secret

BOOK: Bailey and the Santa Fe Secret
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© 2011 by Barbour Publishing, Inc.

Edited by Jeanette Littleton.

Print ISBN 978-1-60260-404-9

eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-416-1
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-418-5

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

Scripture taken from the H
OLY
B
IBLE,
N
EW
I
NTERNATIONAL
V
ERSION
®
. niv
®
. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

Cover design: Thinkpen Design

Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com

Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.

Printed in the United States of America.

Dickinson Press Inc., Grand Rapids, MI 49512; February 2011; D10002688

Strangers in a New Land

“What was that?”

Nine-year-old Bailey Chang jumped at the snort she heard behind her and twirled around.

Elizabeth Anderson, her fourteen-year-old friend from Amarillo, Texas, grabbed her hand. Sweat beaded on her pale forehead. “I don’t know.”

They inched toward a clump of dried bushes in the New Mexico desert. The pungent odor of livestock grew stronger as they approached the bushes. The hot August sun beat down on their sleeveless arms and necks, and a trickle of sweat rolled down Bailey’s back.

“Smells like my grandma’s farm!” Elizabeth held her nose.

Bailey covered her nose and mouth with her hand. “

Maybe even
worse
than a farm.” She saw the brown bush move. “Something’s in there.” Her slight frame trembled like a bowl of jelly.

Suddenly, with a squeal and a grunt, a bristly gray javelina charged stiff-legged at them from behind the bushand ran across the landscape. The girls screamed and bolted in the opposite direction, just as terrified as the wild pig. They didn’t stop running until they got to Halona Tse’s home, nearly a half-mile away. Halona was a distant cousin to Bailey and her mom.

“Whoa, what’s the matter?” Halona said as they burst through the door.

Bailey, her mom, and Elizabeth had come to help Halona with her pottery shop just that morning, and the girls had gone out exploring the barren territory around her house. It was so different from Peoria, Illinois, where Bailey lived, or Amarillo, Texas, where Elizabeth lived.

“We came face to face with a fanged pig!” Wheezing, Bailey pulled her inhaler from her jeans pocket and breathed in the medicine to open her airway.

Halona laughed. “Sounds like you saw a javelina.”

“He was so ugly.” Elizabeth shuddered. “Gray and black bristly hair, little stiff legs, and an underbite like he needed braces!”

Bailey let out the breath she’d been holding since using her inhaler. “Yeah, he was a real beauty.” She giggled. “But boy, could he move fast!”

“I’m just glad he didn’t chase us, or I would have freaked out,” Elizabeth said.

“You weren’t freaked out?” Elan, Halona’s thirteen-year-old son, smirked at Elizabeth. His build was small, but he had a handsome face and a winning smile. His long black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail that reached just beyond his shoulders. “You could have fooled me.”

“Well, maybe just a little,” Elizabeth admitted with a smile.

“We’re used to seeing javelinas,” Elan’s younger sister, Aiyana, said. “We’ve grown up around them.” Her black eyes sparkled, and her soft, black curls fell like a waterfall down her back. At eight years old, she stood nearly as tall as her brother.

“But you still have to be careful,” reminded her mother. “Wild boars are not to be taken lightly any more than rattlesnakes are.”

The color drained from Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Rattlesnakes? I’m petrified of snakes.”

“They’re all over the place, but we don’t see much of them.” Elan acted like it was no big deal. Though he didn’t stand much taller than Aiyana, he behaved as if he were ten feet tall. “But they’re hiding out there. It’s part of their defense mechanism.”

Bailey’s mom chimed in. “I’m sure you won’t see one while we’re here, Beth. I’ve never spotted one yet in all the times I’ve visited.”

“Why don’t you live closer to town?” Bailey asked, sitting next to Elizabeth on the couch. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about those things as much.”

“We Native Americans have our own land to live on. It’s called a reservation. We even have our own government completely separate from the United States. We’re a nation of people living among your nation, but our land is our own. We like to live out here where it’s peaceful and quiet. Some of us work in town, though. My pottery shop is in Santa Fe.”

“I can’t wait to see it.” Bailey looked around the Tses’ small home. It was sparsely furnished and clean. Family pictures hung on the wall, but little else. The green plaid couch reminded Bailey of furniture she’d seen at secondhand stores, but she liked how soft it was and the way she sank down into it when she sat. Pottery lined a display shelf and sat on tables. “You have a lot of pottery here, too.”

“We’ve made pottery for generations. It’s one of our native crafts.”

Elizabeth gazed at a brown pot with black swirls painted around it that sat on the coffee table. “This one is beautiful. Did you make it?”

“No, my mother made that one.” Halona’s eyes misted, and she smoothed her blue cotton dress. Her long black hair was pulled back into a bun at the back of her head. Streaks of gray made it sparkle like icicles on a Christmas tree. “She was a master at the pottery wheel. The best I’ve ever seen. I’m trying to keep the shop going now that she’s gone, but it’s so hard to keep up with everything during the heavy tourist season.”

Halona’s eyes got a faraway look. “My husband died when Aiyana was just a baby, and I didn’t think I could go on. But my mother helped me keep the shop going. With her help, we somehow made it. Then when she passed away, I thought I could never do it alone. We’ve managed until now, the busy season. I can’t thank you enough for coming to help us.”

Bailey felt a stab in her heart.
It must be awful to lose your mother, even if you’re already grown up
, she thought.

“How long has it been since your mother died?” she asked.

“Six months, though it seems only yesterday.” Halona smiled weakly and looked at her children. “But I have good help. Elan is almost a man at thirteen. And my Aiyana does so much for me even though she is only eight. She lives up to the meaning of her name, ‘ever blooming.’ I never hear a word of complaint from her.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” Elizabeth said.

“Names are very important in the Native American culture,” Halona said. “We give great thought to what they mean. Elan’s name means ‘friendly,’ and mine means ‘of happy fortune.’ I keep reminding myself of that when times are tough and I struggle to pay my bills.”

“That’s cool,” Bailey said. “Mom, what does my name mean?”

Bailey’s mom shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know. We just liked the way it sounds.”

Bailey sighed. “I’ll have to look it up sometime, I guess.”

“I know what my name means,” Elizabeth said. “I was named after Elizabeth in the Bible, John the Baptist’s mother. It means ‘God-directed.’ But sometimes people call me Beth, for short.”

“Wow.” Aiyana’s eyes shone. “That’s a beautiful name, too.”

“Yes, it is,” Bailey’s mom said. “Halona, hopefully we can be of some help to you while we’re here so it won’t be so hard for you to live up to your name.”

“So when can we see your shop?” Bailey asked.

Halona laughed. “Right now, if you’d like. We didn’t open it up for the day yet since you were coming, but now that you’re here, you can help us.”

“All right! Let’s go!” Bailey jumped up off the couch.

The group piled into Halona’s big white Suburban and buckled up. It was an older vehicle, with windows you had to crank up and down. The dark blue backseat upholstery was torn on the passenger side. Aiyana rode in the front seat with Halona and Bailey’s mom, and Bailey sat between Elan and Elizabeth in back.

Dust flew as they rode down the dirt road from the reservation to the paved main road. Bailey was awed by the rugged majesty of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains that ranalongside them. Prickly pear cacti dotted the desert as they zoomed toward Santa Fe. Soon they were on the freeway and arrived in Santa Fe minutes later.

“It’s amazing how different it is here from on the reservation.” Bailey stared at all the specialty shops around her. People roamed the streets popping into the small stores to look at handmade jewelry, pots, and art.

Halona parked in front of a store bearing a terra cotta sign with blue lettering that said E
ARTH
W
ORKS
on it. “Here we are!” she said.

“Earth Works,” Bailey said. “I like it!”

“We take clay, which comes from the earth, and make it into pottery,” Elan explained.

“But we use much more than clay in our pottery.” Halona unlocked the shop door. “We use precious stones and minerals from the mines, and even ropes, which are made from plants. So much of what we use in our work comes from the earth.”

The musky aroma of incense greeted the girls as they followed Halona into the store. Elan went to the counter and lit a short incense stick that looked as if it was left over from the day before.

BOOK: Bailey and the Santa Fe Secret
8.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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