A Rare Breed

by Mary Tate Engels

  "No, probably not."

  He examined her with a gentle, but thorough, gaze. "And you?"

  Brit shook her head. "Me, either, I'm afraid. I haven't slept outside in years." She paused then added, "I'll bet you're pretty aggravated with us, aren't you? We've interrupted your work and peaceful life."

  He finished the small amount of champagne and handed her the cup without answering her question. "I hope you're saving these."

  She stopped short of crumpling the cup in her hand. "Save these paper cups? Why?"

  "Because I don't have enough cups, or utensils, for that matter, for five people."

  "But you said you had enough food."

  "There's enough canned food to share, but it's nothing fancy, I warn you. I only get food drops once a week, and not much is fresh." He got up and went to another box in the corner and began sorting through it. "I have some leather pieces around here somewhere. Let me have your sandals. I can use the soles as a base for your moccasins."

  "I can’t believe this."

  "They'll do for the interim. Ahh, here's what I need." He pulled out a sizable sheet of finished leather. "This is perfect. Give me your shoes."

  She gestured at her one foot tied with the cord. "It works. You're absolutely right. A person needs shoes down here."

  "Hiking boots would be even better."

  "Right. But I didn’t plan to hike to L.A." Brit handed him the tattered shoe. "Are you ... I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, Jake, but are you an Indian? I mean, Native American? Making moccasins isn’t an everyday thing most people do. And you do look, sort of uh, like ... I mean, dark hair and . . ."

  "You noticed." He smiled teasingly. "I'm part Zuni. My grandmother was Zuni, and she married a white man and moved away from the village. So I only went back with her to visit occasionally. Never spent much time there."

  "Zuni?" The word sounded familiar, but Brit couldn’t place it right away. "Is that a branch of the Navajo?"

  He chuckled. "No. Completely different tribe. Different location. Different language. Different culture. Not all Indians are alike, y'know."

  Brit felt embarrassed. "Sorry, I don't know much about them, obviously." Then she remembered. Bonnie's lover was from the Zuni tribe. Of course, she should know that.

  "Not many people know about them or care." He placed her shoes with the leather in the corner. "I’ll work on those later." When he straightened and moved closer, Brit noticed a thin leather necklace with a small charm that rested at the base of his throat. The tiny figure seemed to draw her, refusing to let go, and she shifted so she could see it more clearly.

  Jake lifted his chin, inviting her inspection. "It's a bear fetish, a good luck emblem. The Zunis have several of them—toads, birds, sheep, and goats, but the bear is my favorite. A friend carved this and gave it to me for good luck while I'm down here."

  "And have you had good luck?" Brit admired the tiny jet bear with a single turquoise eye that nestled against his copper skin.

  He gazed into her eyes with a trancelike intensity. "Very good luck so far. It even worked for you."

  "How do you figure that?"

  "You got out of the crash alive. And with relatively few injuries. That, in itself, is a miracle."

  "Right." Spontaneously, for a reason beyond her understanding, Brit reached out to touch the tiny bear. She rubbed it with one finger, but it was so small she also stroked Jake's sleek brown skin. At the contact, she pulled away as if stung by fire. "Nice," she mumbled, unable to think of anything intelligent at the moment. There was a feeling, a power or energy in the touching, and she wasn't sure if it came from him or the bear. But touching him definitely sent her senses soaring.

  Just as her gaze met his, they heard loud voices from the group outside the tent. Loud, arguing voices. Jake reached into a nearby duffle bag and tossed her a pair of thick socks, obviously his. "Wear these around camp until I get your mocs made. They'll keep your feet warm. Next we need to do something about that." He gestured to her torn dress. "Wear these." He pulled out more clothes, dumping a tee shirt and a plaid flannel along with jeans in her lap.

  The magic moment between them was gone, and Brit felt let down and deflated. She wanted to be alone with him, to know more about him, his past, and to tell him about herself and her dreams. But they were here, in the bottom of the Grand Canyon, in a strange place for a brief moment in time. "I'm sorry . . ." she mumbled.

  "About what?" His tone was sharp. His amiable mood departed. They could hear Rudi's and Frank's voices rise. "Go ahead and get dressed," he instructed. "I'll see if I can settle the children down." He stepped outside, leaving her alone to change clothes and ponder their situation.

  Brit listened to Jake as he immediately took charge of the argument. He was, at times, infuriatingly arrogant and self-assured. Maybe his attitude came from being part Indian and that he thought he had a beat on living out here, next to nature. Well, dammit, she'd show him she could be just as hardy as he.

  Actually, Brit had never thought much about the Indians as being different from each other before he suggested it. She had simply lumped them all together into one large category: American Indians, Native Americans. It was good that Jake had pointed out the distinctions. She would need to know this while working on the movie.

  Like Bonnie's Zuni lover, Jake was a ruggedly handsome man. And tall. Brit couldn't help feeling an attraction to those mysterious dark eyes and that silky jet-black hair of his. Oh! She must be hallucinating after the shock of this day. How could she find such an arrogant, strange man appealing? He wouldn't fit in her world at all. As she pulled on her socks, she could hear Jake's strong voice booming over the others.

  "Listen up . . . canned beans or canned corn for supper. You can have either one or both. So no more arguing. No law suits down here ... we’ll all work together."

  Brit smiled. He was optimistic. And dictatorial. He sounded like an army sergeant. As a professor, he probably ran his class with an iron hand and expected this group to behave the same way as a classroom of students. A chuckle escaped her smiling lips. He'd actually told Yolanda to shut up. Wouldn't the girls at the office get a kick out of this? She heard a rustle outside the tent.

  "You dressed yet, Brit? Frank and I are going to unload this tent so more than one can sleep in there tonight."

  "In a minute." Brit made a quick assessment as she undressed. She was a complete mess. This morning, she had been normal. She had looked good. Hair, nails, immaculate clothes, expensive shoes, everything was perfect. That was the way she liked it. Now her clothes were in tatters. Her nails were broken, the polish chipped. Her hair had lost its bouncy curls. And her shoes were ruined.

  Hurriedly she slipped out of her torn dress and into Jake's clothes. They were soft and warm against her skin. The cloth smelled like wood and fresh pine, just like Jake. She was surrounded by his fragrance, his essence. It was the most comfortable she had felt all day.

  When she stepped outside the tent, a magenta glow from the sunset on the vermilion cliffs gave the entire campsite a pinkish glow. It was unusual and beautiful. Yes, as beautiful as a rock castle whose walls were draped with rich red velvet.

  Jake's commanding voice broke into her reverie. "Rudi, gather more firewood. Look down by the river for driftwood. We'll make any campfires in this fire pan." He lifted a large metal pan. "Since fires are dangerous to the environment and leave such a mess, they're prohibited in the canyon." He pointed to Brit and Yolanda. "You two open these cans and set them on this rack over the fire. Frank and I will unload the big tent so there'll be room for sleeping in there."

  Everyone responded to Jake's orders, everyone except Yolanda. She had broken a fingernail and now refused to touch another thing. So Brit opened the cans and set them on the rack above the fire. Twenty minutes later, everyone gathered for an adequate supper of canned beans, canned corn, canned green chili peppers, and tortillas.

  "With a meal like this, I feel like one of those ancient Indians yo
u're studying, Jake," Frank observed as he rolled the flour tortilla around a generous helping of beans and chopped green chilies.

  "This is what they might have eaten, from all we can tell," Jake responded. “Not canned, of course.”

  "Probably explains why they died out," Yolanda commented as she picked at her plate.

  "It's nourishing enough to have sustained them for hundreds of years. They revered corn and squash," Jake said in defense of the plain food. "They also used sunflower seeds and pine nuts in a number of ways. They ground them for flour."

  "That must have been real tasty," Yolanda muttered.

  "Not bad, actually. My classes make these foods every year in the process of understanding past cultures. And understanding benefits us all." He glared at Yolanda, and she looked down at her plate without further comment.

  It was the first time Brit had seen Yolanda speechless and she had to give Jake credit. He was certainly not intimidated by her celebrity status. Down here, no one had status. Except, maybe, Jake.

  "What happened to those Indians who lived down here?" Frank asked.

  Jake answered eagerly. It was a subject he obviously loved. "There are theories as to why they left. Some think it was a period of drought which left them unable to grow crops and feed their people. Others think there were wars between the various bands that lived here. That's one of the things I'm hoping to uncover in my research. To see if we can tell why they're no longer here."

  "How could you possibly do that?" Brit spread one hand and gestured at the cathedral walls. "They're all gone. There's no one to ask."

  "I'm studying what they left behind."

  "What did they leave?"

  "That's the strange part. In some instances, it's almost as if they were caught by surprise and just escaped. Some of the rooms remain untouched, as if the occupants would be back tomorrow. And they've been that way for hundreds of years."

  Brit was amazed. "What's there? Household things?"

  "Exactly. Pottery, cooking utensils, toys, parts of clothes made from skins, food."

  "Food?"

  He nodded toward his plate. "Corn. It's rather dried by now, but preserved enough for anyone to recognize it."

  "Good grief!" Yolanda exclaimed, getting up in a huff. "As absolutely fascinating as this conversation is, I must excuse myself. Dinner was, um, unusual, to say the least. Can I dispose of this behind a rock?"

  "No!" Jake jumped up and followed her. "That'll attract animals, for sure. All garbage and trash must be contained." He showed them how to clean up the supper dishes and store the trash. Later he handed out the toothbrushes along with instructions for hygiene that wouldn't sully the natural beauties around them.

  As Jake had predicted to Brit, the night was very long and relatively sleepless. He brought out two sleeping bags. The extra one had been intended for a colleague who could not make the trip at the last minute. Yolanda and Brit tucked themselves into the bags in the small tent. Rudi and Frank rolled up in blankets in the large tent. Jake made his bed outside under the stars.

  Yolanda mumbled complaints to Brit for at least an hour. Then she announced loudly that she was cold and wanted to sleep with Rudi so she could cuddle with someone.

  "Please, go ahead! Quickly!" Brit turned over and buried her head in the cover. She actually felt warm and secure and fairly comfortable in Jake's insulated sleeping bag and, if the ground weren't so hard and rocky, she could probably sleep.

  "I knew you didn't want me in here with you, all along," Yolanda muttered as she crawled out of the pup tent and made her way to Rudi.

  That arrangement lasted about ten minutes before Frank declared that he wasn't sleeping with the Romeros. "I've never seen such spoiled, inconsiderate jerks!" He found a spot beside the low campfire near Jake.

  Even after things had quieted again, Brit could hear Yolanda and Rudi grumbling to each other. She could hear Frank snoring. And she could hear other strange sounds that she couldn't recognize. She wondered if animals actually would disturb or attack the camp. As she dozed, Brit thought of the elusive, confident Jake Landry She recalled the electric spark of his smooth copper skin when she had touched the bear fetish at his neck. She imagined piercing black eyes with jet lashes, closed against dark skin. And she slept, dreaming of the brush of his lips against hers.

  Chapter Three

  Brit woke to strange noises. They were unfamiliar, as were her surroundings, and her imagination shifted into overdrive. Maybe it was wild animals; maybe looters, raiding the camp!

  Heart pounding, Brit crawled out of her warm cocoon and peered through the thick gray morning air. The noises had come from Jake, looking rumpled and somewhat weary as he knelt before the campfire.

  His lean form was outlined by cold blue shadows; his jet-black hair dominated the cool grays of morning. He wore jeans and a long sleeved insulated undershirt. She watched him take a seat on a rounded stone, hunkering over to absorb the sputtering heat of the small fire and to wait for the coffeepot to boil.

  Brit was struck by the amazing notion that Jake looked, at that instant, like a man from an-other era, even from another world. Curiously, he appeared at ease, as if he belonged here. A strange impulse pulled her toward him, toward his ancient and interesting world.

  She made a polite noise and joined him. Jake merely nodded a greeting. No words were spoken between them; none were necessary. They sat still and quiet, absorbing the exotic beauty of the early morning. In a short time, an opaque grayness gave way to a silvery glistening which faded into pale shades of pink as the sun rose steadily. Brit had never known there were so many colors in a sunrise.

  "It's beautiful here this morning," she said finally in a soft voice.

  "Yep," Jake agreed noncommittally. "Always is."

  "Is it like this every morning? All these colors?"

  "Um-hum."

  "What makes so many different shades?"

  "Light reflection off the minerals in the rocks. Iron and copper and bits of mica."

  "Everything seems to be in layers." Brit's gaze roamed around the mammoth amphitheater.

  "Layers of time." Jake's tone was hushed and solemn, as if he had the utmost respect for his surroundings. "It has taken millions of years to reach this point." He handed her a mug of coffee, brewed black and strong.

  She inhaled, savoring but not drinking the steamy hot liquid. "It's strange here, almost as if we're in a time warp. Right now. Like we're caught in a place that never changes with time."

  He gazed at her, a kind of appraising quality in his eyes. "You noticed. It especially feels that way when I work in one of the ruins."

  "The Indian houses?"

  He nodded.

  Brit looked around. "Where are they? I don't see anything."

  He swept his hand around in a vague gesture. "Hidden in caves in these canyon walls."

  She stood up to get a better look. "Up there? I still don't detect any openings or caves."

  "They're quite remote. I have to climb to them."

  "Isn't it eerie to enter these homes where people lived hundreds of years ago?"

  "Yes."

  "I'd love to go in one of them." Her green eyes glistened as she thought about the prospect. "I would love to see the things you're talking about, Jake.

  "He gazed at her and pursed his lips. For a moment, she thought he was going to offer to take her to one of the ruins. But before he could say a thing, the morning quiet was disturbed by Rudi's rambunctious greeting.

  "So where does a guy get a cup of java around this joint?"

  Brit watched sullenly as Jake poured a cup of coffee for Rudi. Another magic moment between them was gone, and she couldn't help feeling some resentment.

  "Damn hardest earth I've ever slept on!" Rudi exclaimed with a laugh. "Course, I didn't expect it to compare with my expensive bed at home."

  Jake stood by Rudi while they chatted. "In a few hours, we'll be able to notify the supply plane that you're here, and the pilot will relay the messag
e. By evening, you'll probably be sleeping in the comfort of your own bed," Jake said.

  "Ahh, music to my ears!" Rudi said. "Can't happen soon enough for Yolanda and me."

  Brit wrapped her hands around her cup and felt strangely discordant with thoughts of leaving this place today. She squeezed her eyes shut. What in the world was wrong with her? Their one goal, since the wreck yesterday, was to get out of here. Now Jake was explaining how it would be done and how soon it could happen. Suddenly she felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her life. It made no sense whatsoever.

  Then a bizarre idea occurred to Brit. She didn't care if she were rescued today. She wanted to remain here, to stay in this alien and beautiful land, with Jake. She wanted to be with him and get to know him. Completely. Jake was an interesting and elusive man, and she wanted to break his tough-guy facade. She wanted to see him laugh, to make his expression soften, to feel some kind of response from him.

  Rudi's loud conversation woke Frank, who was sleeping nearby. Before long, the men were eating breakfast of granola bars and canned fruit and planning their hike to the clearing where the supply plane flew overhead.

  "Looks like a storm brewing." Frank gestured toward the sky.

  Jake agreed. "By afternoon, we'll probably have a whopper of a monsoon."

  "Monsoon?" Brit asked. "I thought they only had those in Asia."

  "It's the same principle," Jake explained. "Heat builds, pulling moisture from the clouds, turning to rain by afternoon. Our monsoons can be vicious down here, but they don't last long. An hour or so and the storm's usually over. Well, men, let's hit the trail. Got a lot to do before the rains come."

  Brit watched them until they disappeared behind a sandstone boulder. Even though she wanted to go with them, hiking without shoes was not a good idea, especially since their destination was a good half a mile away. It was decided, then, that she and Yolanda would remain at camp.

  Brit ambled past the large tent where Yolanda was still sleeping. Rudi had declared that Yolanda didn't need to get up at "this ungodly hour" just so she could wave a flag at an airplane. He could do that. Besides, this was way too early for her. She was accustomed to sleeping until noon.