No Job for a Lady by Carol McCleary Page B

and Southwest, including all or part of California, Nevada, Utah, New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, Oklahoma, and Kansas.
    Even though the war ended nearly forty years ago, it cost Mexico over half its territory, and I don’t care what he professes, that had to have left a bad taste toward Americans with his fellow men, making it a sore subject even today—one, I’m sure, he wants to avoid.
    “But let us talk about something more enjoyable,” Don Antonio says.
    The diplomat offers a champagne toast to independent women.
    I have to admit that because of my stepfather turning from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde whenever he had what my mother called “demon rum,” I have an aversion to the very notion of imbibing anything stronger than sarsaparilla. However, the champagne goes down nicely and tickles my nose. I’m surprised to find I like it.
    I thank Don Antonio for the pleasant new experience. “I’ve never had champagne before. It’s quite delicious. I don’t feel like I’m drinking liquor, it’s so smooth and refreshing. Does it always tickle one’s nose?”
    “Yes,” Gertrude says, “but Uncle Antonio says it does that only to beautiful women. Isn’t that true?”
    “Absolutely. And tonight I have proof that I am right, for two beautiful women are at my table.”
    Unlike Gertrude, who appears comfortable with her uncle’s compliment, I find myself looking down into my champagne glass. I don’t do well with compliments, unless it’s about my work; then I am just proud.
    The incident with the prospector has me curious, and I describe how I first had to wade through a sea of cowboys.
    “There’s a man with them whom one of the cowboys referred to as a prospector. He was a bit inebriated, to say the least, and he started mumbling about something called ‘Montezuma’s pile’ and that he’s got it. Gertrude believes he might be referring to a legend about Montezuma’s treasure.”
    “Sí.” Don Antonio leans back and shakes his head with a chuckle. “I cannot tell you how many times I have heard a similar story, often from a miner or prospector who claims to have found Montezuma’s gold or at least a map leading to it. Each one told me I would be a very rich man if I grubstaked them, as norteamericanos call supplying money to a prospector.”
    He refills our glasses with champagne. I already feel warm and pleasantly light-headed from the first glass, but I can handle it, I’m sure, as I have a strong mind that alcohol cannot take control of.
    “Montezuma was the Aztec emperor at the time of the conquest. The Fates bestowed upon him the misfortune to reign at a time when the Spanish arrived armed with strange weapons and astride great beasts we call horses. However, the tale of this misfortunate emperor and his treasure begins much earlier.
    “At the time of Christ, the largest city in the western hemisphere, the center of a powerful empire and a metropolis that rivaled ancient Rome in size, was about thirty miles northeast of the current site of Mexico City. As a matter of fact, it is a place that all three of you should see. It is the largest site of archaeological interest in all the Americas and has two magnificent pyramids, the Pyramid of the Sun and the Pyramid of the Moon. The pyramid dedicated to the sun god is only a hair smaller than the Great Pyramid of Giza in Egypt. The edifices are a beautiful sight to behold—breathtaking, I must say.”
    “Are the pyramids still standing? Can you climb them?” I ask.
    He gives me a smile. “Yes, you can climb them. The larger one is taller than a skyscraper and has stone steps that go all the way to the top. I commonly refer to the city as ‘Teo’ for short, but its name is Teotihuacán. That, of course, is not Spanish, but Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs. It might surprise you, but the Aztec tongue is still spoken in many rural areas. In that language, Teotihuacán means ‘City of the Gods.’
    “No one knows the real name of the city or even