Forbidden Ground (Cold Creek)

by Karen Harper

  She wanted to blurt out more about Jason’s drawing and his admitting his father and Grant had found the relic itself. And that she’d seen the silken shape of what she was certain was an Adena mortuary arrowhead and had hope of tracking those items without even having to excavate the mound. But, to her own amazement, she didn’t. “I’m theorizing that chips from the mica seam are the size to be used on funeral garments or shamans’ masks,” she said.

  He sat up straighter. “Such as that?” he asked, pointing back at the mask watching them from over his desk. Carson’s eyes narrowed at her as if he could probe her thoughts. “Kate, if you could ever find an identical or even similar mask to Celtic ones, like the Beastmaster, it would make your reputation. What are your last-ditch plans to get in that mound before you leave the area? Kaitlyn says what appears to be the shaft entry has nothing but some dead trees blocking it. Let’s make an entry—make our move.”

  “Dead hawthorn trees that someone poisoned, and it wasn’t me.”

  “So I hear. The lab test will find out what but not by whom. If it had been you, I’d give you one of those gold stars you found. Any more information on those?”

  “Not really. I’m quite sure—that is, I theorize,” she said, sarcastically, “Bright Star Monson left them there with hopes of either saving or damning the souls of whoever lies within those mounds. But you don’t really believe some of the Toltecs journeyed all the way from Mexico and turned into the Adena, then later were progenitors of the Aztecs, do you?”

  “It makes as much sense as the Celts—especially since you can’t prove otherwise. When I was in Washington for that Smithsonian talk, I went to the American Museum of Natural History. Kate, there’s a fantastic Toltec orange clay vessel that has a face on it that could be linked to the Adena pipe shaman. His earrings are identical, and the face is similar. We know both groups had human sacrifices with smashed skulls. Look, darling, I don’t want us to fall out over this. How about I come down to Cold Creek and together we make our last-ditch case to Grant Mason to get in that mound? The clock is ticking.”

  Her inner turmoil nearly swamped her. She loved Grant, wanted to work with him, not against him. But if he cared for her, why wouldn’t he let her have what she needed and desired, to dig in that mound? He’d been so helpful letting her work on the mica wall, so was it just the mound itself that was untouchable?

  “Kate, like I said,” Carson went on, pointing a finger nearly in her face, “either get in that mound or out of town—out of Cold Creek and out of Columbus. Back to English digs, where you evidently belong.”

  She glared at him, speechless. He was right. Wasn’t this man always right? She hated that. But he was a master manipulator, just like Bright Star Monson, who held such sway over Lee and Grace. And even if she couldn’t quite trust Kaitlyn Blake, she wanted to rescue her from Carson, so it wouldn’t take the young woman ten years and a lot of sharing of resources, as he used to call it, to figure that out.

  “You have one last chance,” Carson said. “Either pull this off now or give it up, and I’ll take over. I’m having a lawyer draft a deposition I can use to gain access to the mound by extending the definition of eminent domain. Just think, with a dig team from here, you could be in that death chamber in hours. Or else I will be, without you.”

  She grabbed her purse, got up and headed for the door. She pulled the old-fashioned key out of the lock and tossed it onto his desk. “Just so Kaitlyn doesn’t accidentally lock herself in.” She walked out, and since he was probably expecting her to slam the door, she closed it quietly.

  As she went down four flights of stairs, she realized she had closed a door on Carson—his power over her, at least. If he stopped the dig team from coming back on Saturday, so be it. For the first time in years, she felt she was on her own in her career and private life. But she wasn’t sure she had the strength to either defy or leave Grant.

  * * *

  Kate picked up food at a favorite Chinese restaurant in Columbus and drove back to Cold Creek. She figured she’d get home just before Grant if he was on time. It might be the last day she was there playing dutiful wife with food on the table, worrying if he was late. Once she challenged him on what Jason had said, he might ask her to leave. She wouldn’t like going back to her childhood home, but she could handle it for a couple of days until Tess returned. Maybe she’d see if Nadine was still interested in buying the house when she stopped this evening to purchase the Adena tree-trunk sculpture. At least she’d have a modern piece of art to remember her time here in Cold Creek if Grant asked her to leave.

  When she arrived she saw his car was already in the driveway. She grabbed the food and hurried into the house. “Grant?” She put the food and her purse down, then walked into the living room. What if he wasn’t all right? What if, like Paul and Todd, something had happened to Grant?

  She could see through the picture window that he was out by the mound. At least he was safe, looked all right, although she could tell he was furious. Another tree cut down while he was away?

  She ran out the back door. When he saw her, he started shouting. “I didn’t give you permission for this!”

  “For what?” she cried as she approached the mound and looked where he was pointing.

  The dead hawthorn trees were missing, exposing the mound area she was sure held the entry shaft. Despite some ground cover, she could clearly see a section was indented with the telltale signs of old digging, which had caved in the curve of the mound just slightly, probably from Hiram Mason’s time.

  “I didn’t do that,” she protested, hands on her hips. “And what if I did? They needed to be cut and hauled away. So you think I’m going to dig into the mound while you’re gone, even though it’s clear you don’t want me in there? I’ve been gone all day, Grant. I wouldn’t do that, because you didn’t give me permission. Don’t you get that much by now?”

  “I— Okay. I jumped to conclusions. But then who?”

  Her anger evaporated when she saw the forlorn look on his face. For a moment, she glimpsed the little boy in him, like Jason, devastated at losses he mourned.

  “How long have you been gone?” he asked, his voice more quiet. “This wouldn’t take long to cut it and have it hauled out. You didn’t hear or see anything? It can’t be the tree thieves trying to threaten or hurt me again.”

  “I was here awhile this morning then visited Todd and Amber’s kids—Todd had surgery to remove his spleen today.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair so some of it stood on end.

  “And I drove to Columbus to see Carson.”

  “Isn’t that cozy?”

  “No, it wasn’t. You know, you don’t trust me, so I’ll just move back to Tess’s old house. This isn’t going anywhere, we aren’t going anywhere, and—”

  “Hey, you two.” Brad’s voice interrupted from the backyard as he strode toward them. “Grant, I wanted to get here before you did, but Keith said you left early. Oh, I see they hauled the dead stuff away but haven’t delivered the new saplings yet. I figured you’d want the same thing Grandpa put in—hawthorn. So, Professor Kate, I read up on hawthorn before I ordered it. Latin name, crataegus monogyna. Impressive, huh? I suppose you know its Celtic symbolism? Gotta admit I didn’t, but the woman at the nursery I ordered from did.”

  For a moment, Kate almost felt she was back in Carson’s paleobotany class years ago. “Yes, but I’m sure your grandfather didn’t have Celtic symbolism in mind when he planted hawthorn trees,” she told him, aware that Grant was hanging on everything they said.

  “I just thought it was so ironic,” Brad said, coming closer. “Grant, you’re upset. I really meant to be here before you. Sorry for the surprise. I’m just grateful you let me take the foreman job—even temporarily—and wanted to help out around here. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

>   “True,” Grant said, looking at Kate instead of Brad. “I do.”

  “So,” Brad said, clapping his hands once. “I’ll just get on my cell and find out why the new trees aren’t here yet, if there was a problem. Be right back.”

  “Sorry I thought it was you,” Grant said, taking her arm and gently turning her to face him. “Really. I’m just uptight.”

  “I understand.”

  “So what’s he mean about the symbolism of the hawthorn?”

  “As he said, it’s Celtic, not Adena—that is, unless the Celts became the Adena. I’m wondering if your grandfather planted hawthorns there because that’s what was there when he entered the mound years ago—and was planted there long before him.”

  “You mean the Adena might have originally planted them there and they reproduced over the centuries? So what’s the deal about the hawthorn? That those long, sharp thorns have the message ‘Keep out!’?”

  “In Celtic beliefs, the hawthorn was associated with death, so in Europe, they’re sometimes found near Celtic burial sites. But I—I hadn’t even thought of that. They could be a link, just like the oversize weapon heads. Grant, like ax heads enlarged for burial sites in both Celtic and Adena culture, the planting of hawthorns could be a common element!”

  “Because of the thorns, you mean the Celts linked hawthorns to death?”

  “They do look forbidding and lethal. But we—Celtic scholars and archaeologists—believe it was probably because a cut hawthorn branch smells like decaying flesh. It’s been proven the chemicals in each are related. You know, as if to remind worshippers or intruders what lies within the tomb or mound—what lies ahead for each of us.”

  “Yeah, I noticed years ago that the cut branches stink. But there, see. You have another link between the Celts and the Adena without even disturbing the mound.”

  “Before Brad gets back, I want to tell you that I figured out why Jason drew a picture of his dad being cut by the big ax head. Jason says he cut himself on that very thing hidden in their attic and had to have stitches. And that his dad told him that Uncle Grant was there when Todd found it years ago. Grant, that ax head is valuable, important and precious!”

  Grant sank onto the big stump of his lost maple tree as Brad came bursting around the side of the mound again. “The nursery I used said we should wait to plant until later in the summer, so I said okay.”

  Grant muttered something she couldn’t make out. Was he going to turn on Brad for this attempt at mending bridges? Was he going to turn on her for quizzing Jason about that drawing? Here, she’d been ready to walk out on him, on this mound, and now its access had been made easier by Brad.

  Truthfully, all she wanted to do was stay here, talk things out with Grant. Yet he still stood in the way of what she wanted most in life—or was he what she wanted most?

  25

  After Brad left, Kate and Grant shared dinner and talked. He was trying hard to be careful what he said. For one thing, he felt bad he’d accused her of cutting down and hauling off the hawthorn trees. For another, now that the mound entrance was free of hindrances, he felt as if he was the only thing standing between Kate and the mound.

  “Yes, that’s true,” he admitted after she brought up the ax head again. “Todd and I found that out behind the house. We were young—grade school—and, of course, thought it was cool—our secret.”

  “You probably didn’t even know they were Adena at the time. When I’ve talked to groups of elementary kids about prehistoric lives, they can’t even grasp the time frame.”

  He nodded, grateful she was trying to help him out. He was actually tempted for the first time to just come clean with her, tell her all of it, but Todd and Brad were involved, too. Sometimes he wished the two of them could sell their artifacts to ensure their shaky futures. When they took the things, they knew it was wrong, but not illegal. But they’d kept them for years, even after they did know the consequences. When Gabe got back in a few days, maybe he could handle this, finesse it, though Grant figured he’d say they had to hand everything over.

  He took another long drink of wine that went well with the Chinese food Kate had brought. They’d already had a heated discussion when she wouldn’t take his money for the food, but they were both making a big effort to keep the talk civil now. Man, why did things have to be so complicated between them? He’d love to scrape all the layers of his lies away, just hold her and make love to her.

  “Was Gabe in on this?” she asked.

  “He was away then, and we never told him.”

  “By we, you mean just you and Todd?”

  “I don’t want you interrogating him while he’s hurt.”

  “Of course not. Does Brad know?”

  “I’d like you to leave him out of this. He’d get upset, and I need to keep him on an even keel right now. This is between you and me.”

  “I’d like to think so, but you haven’t answered my questions very directly.” She stood and tossed her napkin hard at the table. He could tell her temper was going to show again. Her wineglass toppled over, but it was empty. “Then if it’s between us,” she said, “I have a confession to make. I, at least, want to tell the truth.”

  He waited for her to demand to know if he had hidden an Adena artifact, but she didn’t. “I was waiting for you in the front yard yesterday evening when you drove by. I followed you, because I wanted to know if you were heading for the mica seam and why. I saw you dig up the empty box above Brad’s dead dog.”

  He jumped up, leaned stiff-armed on the table. Brad had said she’d spied on him, and now—if she knew the box was empty, she’d dug it up, too, seen the shape of the big Adena arrowhead.

  “Forget the dead dog. You keep beating a dead horse!” he shouted. “Okay, Brad once had an Adena arrowhead he found on our property. But from now on, any old artifacts we find here are off-limits to you, including anything in that mica seam or buried under a pile of stones!”

  “You want me out of here, because you’re hiding something!”

  “Yeah, I’m hiding that I want you and love you, and that’s just not going to work out, is it?”

  She looked too shocked to respond, but what he’d blurted out staggered him, too. Yeah, that was the truth—how he felt about her, and the truth that it would never, ever work.

  “Grant, I want you to know—” she said as his cell phone sounded. She stopped in the middle of her thought. The familiar tune confused him for a moment as if it came from another world. He turned to the walnut sideboard and reached for his phone, glancing at the number. “Keith,” he told her. “He’s home, but maybe those wood samples came. Just—just a second. Keith, Grant here. What’s up? Did the bird’s-eye maple pieces arrive from Wisconsin after I left?”

  “The timber thieves have been here! They took a couple of prime oaks! Three, way back behind the house. You said, when they hit next, you had a lead to find them and—”

  “When? When was this?”

  “Velma wasn’t here today, so we’re not sure. At least five, six hours ago.”

  “Call 911 to get Jace there. I’ll be over later, but I’m going to check the place they cut up my tree on Shadow Mountain first.”

  “What’s wrong?” Kate asked as he ended the call and jammed the phone in his shirt pocket.

  “The tree thieves hit Keith’s place for prime oak. I’m going up on Shadow Mountain to see if they try to hide there until they cut it up and get it out of state.”

  “But since we found their cut-up place, they wouldn’t return, would they? Besides, we got shot at there.”

  He raced into the kitchen and grabbed his car keys. As upset as he was about the trees, he was relieved there was an excuse to stop her from grilling him. She followed him to the front-hall closet, where he fumbled behind hanging winter clothes and produced a rifle and box of bullets.
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  “We don’t know it was them who shot at us,” he argued. “They may not even know we were there. You ever hear of a citizen’s arrest?”

  “Grant, you can’t! I’m going, too.”

  “No. Too dangerous.”

  “I’m coming, too!” she insisted and grabbed her purse from the hall table. He almost laughed at her. He had a gun and ammo; she had—what?—lipstick and a wallet?

  But he was tired of arguing with her, fighting her. And he really didn’t want to leave her here alone. She was right he needed a security alarm and motion light detector out back, especially if word ever got out there was literally treasure on these grounds. Did she believe any of what he’d told her?

  “All right,” he said as he headed for the front door with her behind him. “But there are certain conditions. You will stay in the truck if I get out. You will get down on the floor if I say to. Understood?”

  “Of course. See how well we could work together on other things? And just in case we end up spinning off that mountain road up there again, I wanted you to know I care for you, too.”

  That revved him up even more despite the fact she was getting too close to his secrets again. His defenses were going down. But he knew he could lose her if he refused to answer questions—and lose her if he told the truth.

  * * *

  Kate thought Grant drove too fast, obsessed with getting to the spot where the thieves had dissected his maple tree. It was dark by the time they reached Shadow Mountain, so she felt doubly nervous on the narrow, twisting road upward. The old Mason Mill truck rattled, and he said it needed new tires. Maybe she shouldn’t have come along.

  He was quiet, but she had to talk. Yet she knew, at least right now, not to start with accusations and arguments again. “I can’t believe someone could haul huge horses, their hitch and one or more tall trees up this road. Have you thought of that? They’d be crazy to come back here. How did they get your tree up this road?”