Shadow Keeper

by M. K. Yarbrough

“My father’s been up there,” she said. “He was doing research in that area based on information he found in an old book.”

  “Was it the old, lost mailbox ledger?” Paul asked.

  We all laughed, but Lisa was the first to sober. “It was a ship’s log written almost five hundred years ago by a Spanish conquistador who sailed up the Sacramento River. The pages had deteriorated and only fragments remained, but the text he managed to translate led him to this part of the Capay Valley.”

  “Wait a minute,” Paul said. “The Spanish conquistadors never reached California.”

  “Wrong,” I said. “They sailed as far north as Oregon, maybe even farther.”

  “But not inland.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “The San Francisco Bay wasn’t discovered by the Europeans until the seventeen hundreds.”

  “That’s not necessarily true,” Lisa said. “The Spanish explorers who made it home had mapped their expeditions. But what about the ones who didn’t make it back? No one knows what they might have discovered because they died before they returned home with proof of the exploration.”

  “But if they did sail inland,” I argued, “artifacts of some kind, iron or metal works would have been discovered. And there would have been stories or oral tradition from the indigenous people if a shipload of Spanish conquistadors invaded the interior.”

  “And the stories are exactly what my father found. After he translated the text, he checked out the early legends of the people native to this region.”

  “Hold on.” I knew Lisa believed her father, but Spanish conquistadors sailing into the Sacramento Delta five hundred years ago was hard to swallow. “Where did your father get this old ship log?”

  “The book was found about ten years ago when restoration was done to one of the Spanish missions along the California coast. It was buried under the floorboards directly beneath an altar. My father ended up with it. He’s been working on translating the text and researching the facts for the last several years.”

  “Did your father’s research actually prove the conquistadors were here five hundred years ago?” Paul asked.

  Lisa glanced out the window. “My father became ill and is unable to continue his research.”

  “I’m sorry,” Paul said. “I didn’t know he was sick.”

  “I told you that,” Sherry said.

  While they argued, I reached over and took Lisa’s hand. She glanced at me long enough to flash a little smile before looking away.

  “Say, Lisa.” Paul couldn’t see her sitting directly behind him, so he probably couldn’t tell she was upset about her father’s poor health. “Did you know the Capay Valley was the result of a unique geological formation? A pitch caused by a thrust fault superimposed the older rocks from the Cretaceous era over the younger Pleistocene rocks.”

  “Wow, I am impressed.” Lisa wiped her hand across her face and glanced at the back of his head. “I knew about the geology of the valley, but I didn’t think it was common knowledge. Is that something that’s taught in the local schools?”

  “No, just in college,” he said. “I want to be a geologist. Alexander and I took a college class last year for extra credit.”

  Lisa glanced at me. “Is that what you want to be also?”

  I shook my head. “I want to do research of some kind, but I haven’t decided on a major yet.”

  “Have you thought about being an anthropologist? That’s what I want to be.”

  “I don’t think that’s for me.” I hoped I didn’t hurt her feelings. “Anthropology is the study of humans and their culture. I’d rather study what they built, not why they built it. I’ve always been interested in the ancient pyramids.”

  “Egyptian or Mesoamerican?” she asked.

  “Both, but the Mayan architecture really fascinates me.”

  The car slowed down, and I glanced out the windshield to the road ahead.

  “Don’t turn here,” Sherry said.

  “Why not?” Paul asked. “The turnoff to Carson’s ranch is right after the cement bridge.”

  “He’s meeting us at the Scout Cabin.”

  “What did he do that for?” The pitch in his voice rose. “The five of us can’t fit in his pickup. The dumbass!”

  “Don’t call him that.” Sherry crossed her arms over her chest. “And he doesn’t have his pickup. I called him and told him we were coming along, so he got his father’s King Cab.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know he switched pickups.”

  While Sherry glared at Paul, Lisa leaned to me and lowered her voice. “Why do we all have to fit into Carson’s pickup?”

  I put my arm around her and moved closer. “We’ll leave Paul’s car at the old Boy Scout Cabin,” I whispered. I wasn’t worried about Paul or Sherry overhearing us; I just wanted Lisa’s warm body next to mine. “Then we’ll all hop into the pickup and drive to Low Water Bridge. That’s where we’ll jump in the creek with the tubes and float back down to the Scout Cabin.”

  She nodded her head while snuggling against me. If the back seat of Paul’s compact car was any bigger, I’d have a hard time getting close. As it was, the seatbelt dug into my hips. We rode in silence for about ten minutes until we reached the old Boy Scout Cabin at Camp Haswell. Paul parked his car next to the pickup loaded with inner tubes, but Carson wasn’t around.

  “There he is.” Sherry pointed to the sandy beach next to the creek.

  Carson walked up the incline to the parking area, but he didn’t look happy.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “Well, I got good news, and I’ve got some not so good news. I was talking to a park ranger and he said the creek flow is down. We can float on the tubes most of the way from Low Water Bridge, but we may have to walk about a quarter mile or so.”

  I glanced around at everyone’s feet. Paul wore rubber aqua shoes, and Carson and I had on old running shoes, but the girls wore plastic flip–flops. “I guess we’ll have to put off the tubing. The girls can’t hike in those flimsy sandals.”

  “I can walk.” Lisa stuck out one foot. “Even in these sandals, I can do a quarter mile.”

  “You couldn’t walk two steps in those,” I said. “There are lots of rocks in the creek bed.”

  “We can walk around the rocks were there’s no water.”

  I shook my head. “The creek doesn’t dry up, but it can get low, especially this time of year. With our weight on the tubes, we’ll drag bottom. That’s when we’ll have to walk. The current’s still swift, and the rocks are slippery. You have to be sure–footed. You girls are not going to make it in those things.”

  Lisa glanced at Sherry. “I don’t want to ruin their fun. Can’t we just stay here and let the guys go tubing by themselves?”

  “We might as well,” Sherry said. “This was supposed to be a guy trip anyway.”

  During the summer, Sherry had gone tubing with us a couple of times. She knew the type of footwear required, so it was a mystery why she wore those flimsy sandals. I glanced around at everyone, waiting to see if one of them had a different plan. Camp Haswell was safe enough for the girls to wait for a couple of hours until we returned, but I still didn’t want to leave them alone. Paul, evidently, didn’t share the same concern.

  “If that’s what you girls want to do,” he said, “then I guess we can take off. Right, guys?”

  “Sure,” Carson said. “I’ll drive you up and drop you both off, but I think I’ll drive back and watch after the girls.” His mouth curved into a wide grin. “It’s a dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.”

  “What?” Paul’s head snapped around. “You want to hang out here with the girls instead of going with us?”

  “Yeah, and the tortilla chips and the sodas,” he said. “Too bad we didn’t bring any steaks to barbeque. I could die a happy man.”

  I never understood why people called Carson slow. He could come up with some brilliant ideas. “Sounds good to me. Let’s get the party started.”


  Chapter Sixteen

  While Lisa and Sherry spread the blanket on a sandy area next to the creek, Carson and I unloaded the inner tubes. We might not be able to ride the rapids on them, but they’d be fun to play with in the water.

  “Hey, Paul,” I said when he pulled an ice chest from the bed of the pickup. “Put that on one of those picnic tables. We need to save a place for my mom to put the food when she gets here.”

  “Your mom is bringing food?” Carson asked.

  “Wipe off your chin, dude,” Paul said. “You’re starting to slobber.”

  “No, I’m not,” he said, although he swiped the shirt sleeve across his face. “What’s your mom bringing?”

  “All the good stuff.” I headed for the blanket where the girls sat. “Fried chicken, potato salad, and homemade biscuits.”

  “X–man, I love your mom.”

  “She loves you too, Carson,” I said over my shoulder.

  Sherry turned around on the blanket so fast that she bumped heads with Lisa. “Who loves him?”

  “I’m in love with an older woman.” He tossed the tubes on the beach. “If she wasn’t already married, I’d ask her to marry me.”

  “You’re in love with a married woman?” Sherry’s eyes got big.

  Lisa rubbed at the side of her head while looking at me. I flashed a smile and gave her a wink to let her know we were joking. Probably should’ve done the same to Paul.

  “She’s a widow, you dumb—” The derogatory remark hung up on his tongue when he glanced at Sherry. “Carson is talking about Alexander’s mother.”

  The icy glare Sherry flashed him gave me chills. Paul’s disrespect for people he thought inferior probably had as much to do with them breaking up as his cheating.

  “A widow? Wow.” Carson seemed oblivious to the coolness around him. “Then she’s available. X–man, your mom is such a great cook, I don’t want to lose her. Do you think she’ll marry me?”

  “No, but she might adopt you.”

  “Great. We’ll be brothers.” He took off running for the creek. “Hey, bro. I’ll race you to the other side.”

  The challenge was on. I tossed my cap and sunglasses to Lisa before sprinting after him.

  This side of the creek started shallow and, with all the rocks sticking out, we raced through the water until it lapped at our hips before breaking into a full swim.

  When we got back, Carson dropped to his knees in the sand. “Who won?”

  “Let’s call it a tie.” I leaned over and braced my hands on my thighs while taking deep gulps of air. “I don’t think I can do a rematch.”

  “Here.” Lisa held out a bottle of water. “You look like you need this.”

  I twisted off the cap and took several heavy swallows of the ice cold water. After I recovered enough to stand up straight, I glanced at Lisa. “Can you swim?”

  “Of course, silly. I wouldn’t come to a creek if I didn’t know how to swim.”

  “Good, because it’s your turn to race me. And after calling me silly, I’m not giving you a head start.”

  “All right, but put down that bottle.” She kicked off her sandals. “I don’t want you coming up with some lame excuse about not being ready when I beat you.”

  I screwed the cap back on and set the bottle on the ground, but when I bent over, Lisa shoved at my rear end with both hands. I went sprawling on my belly in the sand. “No fair,” I shouted.

  “There are no rules in the arena,” she shouted over her shoulder while dashing toward the water’s edge.

  I chased after her. Her toes barely broke the surface of the water when I caught her. I swept her up into my arms like a baby.

  “You’re shirt’s soaking wet,” she squealed. “And you’re getting me wet.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “And you’re too fast,” she said between giggles.

  “I’m the wide receiver on the football team. I have to be fast. And if you wanted a head start that bad,” I teased, “then I’ll give you a good one. I’ll just toss you out in the middle of the creek and let you swim from there.”

  “No,” she shouted when I made a fake attempt of throwing her in the water. Her arms latched around my neck. “Don’t you dare!”

  In an effort to confuse her direction, I spun around in the sand while holding her in my arms. I lifted her away from my body and pretended to fling her through the air, but instead of tossing her in the creek, I plopped her in the center of an inner tube and dropped to my knees beside her.

  She loosened her grip on my neck. “This is hot,” she managed to say despite her laughter.

  Not certain of her meaning, I cocked my head to one side. “You think that me pretending to throw you in the creek is hot?”

  “No. The inner tube is hot.” She squirmed around while trying to get up. “And it’s burning my legs.”

  I scooped her out of the tube and back into my arms. “There’s only one way to cool you down. You have to go in the water, and this time it’s for real.”

  “No,” she pleaded. “Don’t throw me in. Just let me go in by myself so I can get used to the cold.”

  “All right.” I released her legs, but kept my arm around her while she got her feet planted on the ground.

  “Thank you.” She glanced at my face. Her gaze brushed across my mouth and lingered there.

  I flashed on her lips. The gloss she’d applied glistened in the sun. The cherry scent lured me closer. I wrapped my other arm around her waist. We stood toe–to–toe with her hands resting against my chest. I shifted my weight so our bodies touched.

  Her forehead crinkled and her gazed slipped away. She pushed against my chest while taking a step back.

  Carson shuffled through the sand behind me. “Bumper cars,” he shouted as he dashed past us with a tube under each arm.

  “Come on.” I held out my hand to her. “This will be fun.”

  * * *

  Lisa fell to her knees on the blanket. “That was fun, but now I’m exhausted.”

  “Then lay down.” I grabbed the baseball cap and stuck it on my head so she’d have plenty of room.

  “First, I have to take off my wet shirt. I don’t understand why you wear yours in the creek. All that water just weighs me down.” She crossed her arms in front and grabbed at the hemmed edge of her long sleeved shirt.

  I sprawled out on the blanket in front of her for a better view. My mind had filled in so many blanks that I wanted to see how accurate I’d been.

  My imagination was no match for the real thing. She looked perfect—soft and firm all at the same time. The modest swim top dipped in the front just enough to show some cleavage. Moisture clung to her lightly tanned skin. Tiny rivulets of water trickled down her chest and disappeared inside the top. The droplets reappeared on the bare skin of her ribs. My gaze followed the little squiggles of water rolling down her flat belly and past her navel until they vanished beneath the waistband of her loose fitting denim shorts.

  “Did you hear me?”

  My gaze darted back to her face. I knew she’d been talking, but the words didn’t register. Only a couple stuck in my mind. “Shirt. Yeah. I wear my shirt in the water.”

  “But why,” she asked as she wrung the excess from hers.

  I knew the answer, but getting it from my brain to my tongue was the hard part. “Sunburn,” I blurted out. “I wear shoulder pads under my football jersey. A sunburn would hurt.”

  “You can use sun block.”

  “I put it on my face and legs.” The words flowed easier now. “This is a sports shirt made for the water. It also protects my arms from scratches and abrasions when I’m tubing.”

  She pulled a plastic bottle of something from her pack and sat next to me on the blanket. “Are you disappointed you couldn’t go tubing down the creek one last time?”

  I shook my head while watching her rub lotion on her chest and arms. “Nope. I’m having a blast spending time with you.”

  “So am I. Bumper cars was
fun.” Her lips twisted together. “I’m not so sure I liked playing shark attack because you kept dumping me out of the tube.”

  “That’s the only way I could gobble you up. Sharks don’t eat people while they’re still in the boat.”

  “You’re funny.” She swiped a glob of lotion on my nose with her finger. “I like your sense of humor.”

  “Thanks.” I pulled off my hat and spread the lotion around my face until I caught a whiff of the aroma. “What is this?”