by J. R. Ward
He’d been eleven at the time. His dog had gone after a porcupine and had been stuck by hundreds of quills. He’d found the mutt curled up against the garage, moaning out of a bleeding mouth. Nick had reached out a hand, desperate to help, only to be bitten hard. Recoiling, with tears rolling down his face from the pain in his hand and his fear for the dog, he hadn’t gone to his father or mother. He’d gone looking for Ivan.
Nick glanced down at his palm, seeing the scars, which were now so faint. He’d needed stitches and the dog had needed Ivan’s steady hand with a pair of pliers. After the ordeal was over and the quills were out at last, the mutt had come to lie next to Nick, who’d been put to bed. Seeking to comfort the animal, Nick had stroked the dog’s head gently with his good hand.
As the evening wore on, Gertie had brought him dinner, which he couldn’t stomach, and his mother had popped in on the way to a party, looking elegant and smelling good. As usual, her eyes had been empty when she’d kissed him on the cheek, but Nick hadn’t cared. He hadn’t wanted consolation from her anyway.
In the dwindling light, he’d been far more concerned about the arrival of his father. As soon as he’d seen the bite, his father had demanded that Ivan shoot the dog. With his hand still bleeding, Nick had begged him to reconsider but the man had pushed him away in frustration, saying that dogs could be replaced.
Nick had waited and waited for the end to come. He’d barely been breathing, looking back and forth between the dog and the door.
When it finally opened, his eyes had gone wide. Ivan stood silently in the doorway.
Nick’s throat swelled shut and he’d hardly been able to speak. “You gonna shoot him?”
“No.”
There had been a long silence between them.
“You sure?”
“Yup.”
As tears of relief fell onto his pillow, Nick had turned his face away. He hadn’t wanted Ivan to see him cry, didn’t want to seem like less of a man.
Ivan had shut the door and taken a seat in a chair across the room. He’d leaned back and crossed his feet at the ankles, like he had nothing else he needed to do, nowhere else he needed to be, even though it was late and he had a family of his own to get home to.
Trying to be as quiet as he could, Nick had kept on crying until he didn’t feel so dizzy with relief. The dog was alive because Ivan had saved it and Nick felt saved, too. It was a miracle.
Still, he’d been ashamed of his weakness, of his tears.
When he’d woken up the next morning, Ivan was gone, but on the bedside table was an eagle feather. The symbol of courage. An Indian warrior’s pride.
It was the kind of gesture a boy never thinks of again, but the man he becomes never forgets.
Coming back to the present, Nick focused on Cort. He wished, like nothing else, it could have been his hand that eased the boy’s suffering.
9
THE NEXT day, Carter’s trowel was steady as she carefully removed a wedge of earth. After she put it aside, she reached down and gently brushed off some loose dirt, exposing the graceful, pale arc of the skeleton’s jawbone. She saw that the teeth were still anchored in their cavities, the bottom row uneven in the front.
“Cort, hold the chin here so it doesn’t fall as I excavate the rest.”
The kid put his hand where she told him to.
Working efficiently, she freed the bone until it was lying in Cort’s hand. “Okay, you can remove it now.”
Cort sat back, cradling the jawbone. His eyes were wide and he was barely breathing.
Ellie leaned over his shoulder. “Can I feel it?”
“Gently,” Carter said, touched by their reverence. “Don’t dislodge any of the teeth.”
Ellie ran a finger over the joint. “I wonder what he looked like.”
Carter pulled the baseball cap she was wearing down more tightly. In spite of the fact that the sun was beating down on her back, and she was in a cramped, unnatural position, she didn’t feel any discomfort. Her focus on her work was enough to distract her from her aches and pains.
Although it didn’t take her mind off Nick. She’d been waiting for him to come up all morning, with an edge of impatience that made her uncomfortable.
“So what do you think?” Ellie prompted. “What was he like?”
Carter looked at the bone.
“We’ll know more when we see the rest of the skull but, as I presumed, he was young, probably eighteen or so. You can tell by the amount of wear and tear on the molars in the back. In an older person, they’d be smoother. Also, if you look at the teeth in the front, some still have the serrated edges that helped the permanent teeth break through. Maybe he was closer to sixteen.” She pointed over to a box. “Put the jaw inside there. We can reassemble him when it’s time for the pictures.”
It took her a half hour to uncover the skeleton’s head in its entirety. When it was completely revealed, the whole group let out a collective gasp. There was a large, gaping hole in the cranium.
“And I thought the knife wound was bad,” Carter murmured.
“What happened?” Cort asked incredulously.
“This man was struck on the head. From what I can see here”—she pointed to the wound—“I’d say it was done with a machete because the bone has broken away with clean edges. You need something sharp to get that effect.”
“It must have been the Indian,” Cort whispered.
Carter glanced to the sky, which was clouding up. “Let’s get some pictures taken. I’d like to get him free from the ground before it rains.”
While Cort took pictures, she got out a measuring tape and recorded the skeleton’s various dimensions and the depth at which it was found. With the find fully documented, she began to remove the bones one by one and put them in a container that could be locked. She figured the skeleton would be safe there until she could get him over to her lab in Burlington. She’d just started on the rib cage when Buddy, who’d resumed digging, let out a low whistle.
Staring into the hole he was working on, he said, “We better call back the staties. Looks like we may have another one.”
Nick was walking up the mountain, in a good mood. He was banking on the fact that Carter had spoken with Buddy and was looking forward to getting out on the lake with her. Alone.
When he got to the camp, it was orderly, as always. The mess area was spotless with any food stored in locked-down coolers and hold-alls. The dishes had been washed and stacked neatly on a small table and the fire had been banked. The three tents, nestled off to one side, had their flaps down and secured. The sight of these made him glower.
He pictured Buddy sneaking into whichever one was Carter’s, and thought that goddamn professor better be staying in his own from now on.
Nick headed over to the dig site. When he stepped inside the circle of stones, he saw them all staring intently at the ground. Carter and Buddy were kneeling over a pit, close together.
“Did you find the missing link?” Nick asked, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice.
Everyone looked up and it gave him pleasure to watch Buddy move away from her.
“We’ve got two skeletons. Buddy just found another and I think it might be a colonist, based on this shoe buckle,” Carter explained. Her eyes flipped up to his and then darted away as she flushed.
Nick joined them, looking away from Carter only long enough to glance at the ground. He saw part of a foot and an ankle in the shallow pit and, about five yards away, a completely exposed skeleton, part of which was missing.
“You’ve been busy,” he said, leaning over Carter. Her eyes rose again to his, the blue in them deepening. In his mind, he took her into his arms, and she seemed to know what he was thinking because he saw her breath quicken. She stood up abruptly.
“I understand we’re to thank you and Ivan for the prompt appearance of the state police yesterday,” she said in a rush. “Any chance you two can work your magic again?”
“Maybe this time I can
show them the carburetor,” Buddy quipped.
Nick sent him a cool look. “You found a piece of machinery?”
The man nodded. “You never know what’s going to come out of the ground.”
“Yes, I imagine it all depends on what you bury.” Nick’s voice was dark.
Buddy frowned and got to his feet. “Kids, why don’t we head back to camp and start dinner? Leave Carter to give Mr. Farrell the details while we make gourmet sandwiches.”
Nick cocked an eyebrow at Buddy’s swift departure, thinking the professor was one smart guy.
Immediately, Carter started talking to him about the finds in a serious voice. “The skeleton we have excavated fully appears to be that of a male, between sixteen and eighteen years of age, who died as the result of cerebral trauma and a penetrating wound to the chest cavity. Based upon…”
As she went on, Nick didn’t want to hear about the dig. He was far more interested in talking about when they were going to be alone together.
He cut her off with some gentle teasing. “Are you purposely doing an imitation of Quincy or do all archaeologists speak like this when they’re around open pits?”
She stopped talking and looked at him with wide, searching eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Quincy. You know, the medical examiner. I recall there being a lot of plaid going on in his suits, wide lapels, this kind of thing. Lived on a boat.”
She flushed angrily. “And exactly what’s the parallel between me and a ’seventies TV character?”
“You’re so very serious,” he said softly. He hadn’t meant to antagonize her.
“Do you address your board of directors doing a Donald Duck imitation? This is my work. I take it seriously.” She put her hands on her hips. “So are we ready to try again?”
Obviously, Carter was fully prepared to give him hell if he tried anything, and it made him smile. He didn’t doubt for a moment she’d walk away if he didn’t behave.
He found himself thinking there might be room in his life for someone who stood up to him.
“Now what’s wrong with you?” Her voice was exasperated.
“Wrong?”
“You’re smiling.”
“You don’t like me in a good mood?”
She cocked her head to the side. Slowly, as if it were going against her better instincts, she gave him a smile that made his heart stop. It was lopsided and shyly teasing. “It’s like a plaid leisure suit. I never expected to see you in one.”
Nick laughed, wanting to pull her close. “Thanks for the vote of confidence on the wardrobe, although I’m not sure I like what you’re implying otherwise.”
“Now, can we get serious for a minute?”
“You keep smiling like that and I’ll do anything you want.”
She blushed before leading him over to the fully excavated skeleton. He listened and was impressed with what she had to say. Her conclusions were measured and logical and he realized she was more of a scientist than he’d thought.
“So what are the chances these two were involved with the Winship party?” he asked.
“Strong. Farnsworth was escorted by two Americans as well as Winship and Red Hawk. The party was met by his own men from Fort Sagamore, and I believe this first one is a Brit. I’ve uncovered several buttons on him which are consistent with those found on British redcoat uniforms in the middle to late 1700s.”
“What about his buddy?” Nick nodded over to the other remains.
“The bones appear to be at the same depth in the soil and they’ve aged in a similar fashion. It looks as if that body was also buried in a shallow grave. I’m really curious, but we can’t excavate further until the staties come back.”
“You said grave. Who buried them?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering. After the slaughter, everyone was supposed to be dead except for Farnsworth. Maybe he sent other soldiers up from the fort to dig the graves but I doubt it. With Walker escaping, the place would have been in an uproar and the last thing on Farnsworth’s mind would have been burying some remains in the wilderness.” Her face was rapt with enthusiasm. “Interestingly enough, this first skeleton shows no signs of disruption from scavengers, which would suggest he was buried soon after he died, before some animal got a chance to work on him. He also was laid to rest in his gear, if the pattern and number of buttons is anything to go by. This means he was buried by someone who was in too much of a hurry, or disinclined, to strip him of his clothes and munitions. If Red Hawk killed them—”
“Hey, I think we’re being watched,” Nick interrupted, as he caught a flash of movement.
Carter looked alarmed. “By who—”
He pointed up to a tree. Settled on a limb, a red-tailed hawk was peering down at them with unblinking eyes.
“I’m not superstitious,” she whispered.
“Neither am I.”
“And I don’t believe any of those ghost stories about the Indian.”
There was a moment of silence.
“You want to go back to camp and talk about this?” she asked, still looking up at the bird.
“Great idea.”
Carter was surprised at the ease with which Nick accepted an invitation to have dinner with them. He seemed perfectly content to have a sandwich outdoors with all the bugs as opposed to something fancy in his formal dinning room. He’d even volunteered to put out the plates and cups and had helped cut up fruit for dessert.
Still, when he squeezed in next to her at the picnic table, she really wished he’d eaten somewhere else. Throughout the meal, their elbows touched and their thighs brushed. By the time she turned down the damn fruit, she was feverish from the contact with him and resentful that he seemed so unaffected.
She was ill at ease for another reason. The scene she’d witnessed between him and Candace was still hanging over her. Aside from the questions it raised about Nick, she wanted to explain why she’d been in the hallway but knew it was going to be tough to justify herself. There was no good excuse for her behavior. She’d been eavesdropping and was caught.
There was one more thing clouding her mind. She wanted to know whether or not he was going to follow through with that sailing proposition. Even though she was wary of him and the threat he represented, she wanted to be alone with him. Heaven help her, but she did. She wanted him to take her into his arms and slip his tongue into her mouth and rip off her shirt—
“Right, Carter?”
Startled, she looked across at Ellie. “What?”
“You’ve wanted to get out on the lake, too.”
Carter blanched, wondering what she’d given away. “Yeah, sure.”
Nick drawled, “Then I wouldn’t be a good host unless I made that happen, would I?”
He glanced at her and, flustered, Carter stood and began picking up plates. When she reached in front of Nick, he got to his feet and offered to help.
“I’ve got it,” she said quickly, balancing a load carefully and heading over to the river to rinse the dishes.
“Hey, you forgot these,” Buddy called out, holding up some knives. When she said her hands were full, he followed her into the woods.
They were gone only a few minutes, but by the time they had returned, the mood at the campsite had changed. Nick was wearing a dark look and the kids were very quiet.
Frowning, Buddy told Ellie and Cort to go spread a tarp over the new find. After they disappeared into the woods, he turned on Nick, frustration evident on his face. “What the hell’s your problem?”
Carter held her breath as she watched Nick turn on her friend.
“Seems like you’re the one with the issue.”
“I’m tired of getting measured for a shroud by you, Farrell.”
“You know what they say,” Nick growled back. “We’re all dead men walking.”
Carter started scrambling for a way to defuse the tension. “Why don’t we all head over to the site and—”
“What have I ever done to you?” Buddy asked
with exasperation. “Or are you such a miserable bastard you take on everyone this way?”
“You haven’t done anything to me.”
“Precisely my point.”
“Although I’d be worried about what you’re doing to your wife and daughter.” Nick’s eyes were fierce.
Buddy looked shocked. “What?”
“I don’t know many men with the gall to sleep around under their daughter’s nose. You’re a depraved son of a bitch—you know that?”
Buddy blinked in confusion and glanced over at Carter. “Do you know what he’s talking about?”
“I wouldn’t know where to start,” she said, throwing up her hands in defeat.
Buddy looked back at Nick. “You think she…and I…”
He started to laugh. It was a happy sound, completely at odds with the stress in the air. Buddy put a hand on Nick’s shoulder.
“I knew it,” he said when he paused for breath. “I knew it all along.”
“Let’s just leave this,” Carter begged. “Forget all about—”
“I knew you were attracted to her.”
Nick frowned at the smile shining up at him.
“Listen,” Buddy said in a light, relieved tone, “Carter’s the most wonderful woman I have ever met, apart from my wife. But I can swear on the life of my child that I have never, ever been unfaithful to Jo-Jo in thought or deed. Partially because she’s got a lab full of dangerous chemicals in our basement, but mostly because I love her with all my heart. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Carter saw that Nick was watching the man carefully, weighing his words.
Still smiling, Buddy ambled over to the kitchen area and put away the utensils he’d washed. “Take it from someone who was lucky enough to find the love of his life and luckier still to have had the courage to do something about it. Time’s passing and you should be spending less time glaring at me and more time alone with her.”
With something perilously close to a chuckle, Buddy gave them a cheerful wave and left.
In his wake, they were silent for a time. Even though her friend had left in a good mood, Carter felt as if the friction had increased in his absence.