by Chris Eboch
I noticed he had two more mugs of coffee already poured. Just to be contrary, I said, “Actually, I’d prefer tea.”
“All right.” He grabbed a fresh mug, filled it with water, and stuck it in the microwave.
I picked a doughnut and sat on the couch next to Jerry. Danesh fixed my tea and then sat cross-legged on the floor. He studied me without expression, and I felt my face heating. I tried to think of something to say, but my mind was painfully empty. I took a sip of tea and nearly burned my throat.
Finally Danesh said, “Tell us about your work.”
That seemed safe enough, so I launched into an explanation of grain and seed analysis. If I found food residue, I could determine its genetic makeup, then hopefully draw some conclusions about when the Ancestral Pueblo People had domesticated various plants and what those plants were like at the time. I planned to focus on the storehouses, but given time I’d take samples in other areas as well.
When I wound down, Danesh said, “I notice you’re careful to call them the Ancestral Pueblo People, and not the Anasazi. That name seems to stick, even though it’s inappropriate.”
“I know, it means ‘ancient enemies’ in Navaho, and it’s insulting to the ancient people’s descendents, who are not Navaho.” I was glad I hadn’t given him another chance to lecture. “I suppose you’re especially sensitive.”
He gave the almost-smile that seemed to be his trademark. “That’s me, Mr. Sensitive.”
Could he actually be poking fun at himself? More likely he was teasing me. “I just mean, if you’re....” I trailed off. I didn’t really know what he was or what might offend him. He didn’t look Navaho; his face had too many sharp angles, with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. But that didn’t mean he was Puebloan, and I was no expert in native tribes.
He said, “If you mean genetically, I’m half Filipino and half Danish, with a lot of Spanish on the Filipino side. If you mean professionally, I’m a park ranger but my background is biology, not anthropology or archaeology.”
I stared at him. Filipino and Danish combined to make this? Wasn’t genetics amazing! When I found myself thinking that it was too bad the Danes and Filipinos didn’t breed more often, I smothered my thoughts. “Your name. Is it—what is it?”
“It’s a Gypsy nickname for Daniel.”
“Gypsy?” I wondered if Denmark had Gypsies. I was pretty sure the Philippines didn’t.
Danesh shrugged. “My mother liked it.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure where to go from there, so I turned to Jerry. “What about you? How long have you worked here?”
I only half listened, my mind still trying to make sense of Danesh. I felt like he’d caught me at something. But he had to know people would make the wrong assumption, especially seeing him here, where everyone was focused on native history. If he didn’t want people to think he was Native American, he should have gotten a job at Carlsbad Caverns or Crater Lake.
He probably did it on purpose. Maybe he liked the extra glamour of playing native to the tourists. Maybe he just liked to see people squirm when he told them the truth. I had a feeling he was still staring at me, but I refused to check. If he meant to be unnerving, he was certainly good at it.
I caught the end of Jerry’s question. “The campground? Oh yes, it’s fine.”
“Did you have a quiet night?” Danesh asked.
“What?”
“A quiet night. No strange lights, sounds, manifestations?”
I stared at him. What was he suggesting? The crying sound had been strange, even creepy, but that didn’t make it supernatural. Maybe he was trying to trick me into saying something stupid.
Danesh gazed back with a completely serious expression, but then Jerry broke the mood by giggling. “G-g-ghosts!”
Chapter 4
“What on earth are you talking about?” I demanded.
Danesh smiled, and this time the smile lingered. I almost gasped—It was like the sun coming up. He said, “We’ve been hearing stories from the tourists. Floating lights in the canyon, voices coming from the ruins at night, even a strange smell—what did they insist it was?”
“B-burning sage.”
“Marijuana, more likely. We’ll get a rash of reports like this once in awhile. Some tourist sees another tourist walking with a flashlight across the canyon and jumps to supernatural conclusions. Then the rumors start, and next thing you know we’ll have a coven of crystal worshippers wanting to hold midnight rituals in The Castle and commune with the ancient dead.”
“What do you do?” I couldn’t stop staring at Danesh’s smile, as if I had to drink it in before it disappeared again.
“Make them hold their rituals in the parking lot. Tell them it was the site of a major kiva, if that’ll keep them happy. We can’t have a bunch of impressionable flakes mass hallucinating in a dark, rubble-strewn canyon. A few always sneak off, and we get at least one sprained ankle. On the bright side, it’s the most entertainment we ever get around here.”
Jerry only stuttered a little as he said, “They always want Danesh to join them. Think he’s a shaman or something.”
I looked at Danesh and raised my eyebrows. “And you disillusion them?”
He didn’t answer, but his smile faded. I hated to see it go.
The silence stretched out. Had I said something wrong? If so, I had no idea what. Whoever said women were the moody half of the population was an idiot. Well, I refused to feel stupid for no reason. I scrambled for another topic. “The woman at the host site seems nice.”
Danesh gave that brief almost-smile that now looked so dim in comparison to the real thing. “Did she get your entire life history out of you yet?”
“No, we’ve barely spoken.”
“She’s behind schedule. Usually it doesn’t take her more than five minutes to learn everything about a newcomer.” He looked at Jerry, inviting him to share the amusement, but Jerry just mumbled something and headed for the other room. At least he wasn’t willing to make fun of a sweet old woman.
I said, “It sounds like she’s doing a great job, then,” even though I didn’t like the idea of having to dodge her questions myself.
“Yeah, she’s a real mama tiger,” Danesh said. “It’s just as well, since we’ve been getting some complaints lately.”
I thought of the angry man. “What kind of complaints?”
“Things missing from cars and campsites. Food, mostly, but also some camping gear. One guy insisted bears got into his cooler, but we’ve never seen a bear around here.” He shrugged. “Nothing too serious. Half the people probably just forgot to pack something. And when the wind picks up, you’d be surprised at what it can blow away. But if you want to be extra safe, lock everything in your car and park your car over here during the day.”
It was like being back in the city! “You aren’t very trusting, are you?”
“Maybe not. But then, neither are you.”
Before I could think of an answer, he rose fluidly and said, “More tea?” When I shook my head, he added, “Then we might as well get started.” He gathered the mugs and started washing them.
We? Great. “I don’t really need a guide. I have a trail map and I’m sure I can find my way around.”
“Ah, but I can tell you things you’ll never find in a trail guide.”
I made a face at his back. He was probably right, but I was in no mood for more lectures. No doubt they figured Danesh would be a better guide because of Jerry’s stuttering, but I’d much rather listen to Jerry then feel awkward all day long. “I really don’t want to hike this morning. I’d like to get started on my work while it’s cool.”
He turned and gave me a long, unreadable look. “Some other time, then.”
“Yes.” I managed a quick smile.
“Take a key to the office. Then you can get in here after hours if you need to get something from the fridge or use the phone. You might get cell reception out here, depending on your provider, but it can be inconsistent, esp
ecially during bad weather.”
“Thanks.” I took the key and turned for the other room.
I just wanted to get out of there, but Jerry held up a hand to stop me and gestured to a pile of magazines and brochures on the counter. His stuttering seemed even worse, but I gathered he was offering me material on the area and its ancient people. Poor guy, he must stutter more when he was nervous, and for some reason he was trying hard to impress me.
I glanced through the information, but most of it was familiar. I’d read dozens of books and probably a hundred research papers on the Ancestral Pueblo People. Though my personal studies focused only on food, I needed a thorough understanding of my subjects. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, though, so I said, “Thank you! I’ll take a couple of them back to my campsite now and leave the others here so they won’t get dirty.”
He stared at me with this strange pleading look. His mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. I felt myself turning red in sympathetic embarrassment.
A sharp knock on the door made us both jump. Jerry hurried past me and opened it just enough to speak to whomever was on the other side. I didn’t catch their words, but I assumed Jerry was saying the office wasn’t open yet. I grabbed a few of the brochures at random, ready to get out of there.
When Jerry turned from the door, he was smiling. He said, “Your sign and—and shirt.” I waited while he shuffled back to the counter and got them. He kept his hand on the shirt when I reached for it and asked if I was going to the storehouses. Hadn’t I already said I wanted to start with the storehouses? I hoped he wasn’t trying to flirt. He was a nice guy, but I wasn’t interested.
I said, “I need to go get my gear, and then I’ll probably be at the storehouses all morning.” I almost added, “if anyone needs me,” but who could possibly need me? If I was lucky, I wouldn’t see anyone until I got back to the campground—after Danesh and Jerry had left for the day.
Jerry told me to have a great day and finally I escaped.
I turned toward the path to the campground, then hesitated. I knew you couldn’t see the Pueblo storehouses from above, and the way down wasn’t marked, since it wasn’t open to tourists. Maybe I should find the way first, before too many tourists came out to see me stumbling around, and before Danesh decided he had to “help” me again. Then I could get my gear and set up quickly.
I gave a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure the men were still safely in the office, then strode toward the canyon rim. When I turned onto the rim trail, the trees hid me from view. I didn’t see anyone along the canyon, either. I sighed and felt my shoulders unknot. If I could just get a little peace and quiet, I could find my balance again. I could forget about the angry man, about Jerry’s awkward flirting, about Danesh startling me and then bossing me around. I felt my face heat at the memory of how he’d caught me shaking and incoherent.
I shook my head hard. It didn’t do any good to dwell on that. I shouldn’t blame myself for feeling fragile sometimes, especially in a strange, new place with men yelling and rushing at me. The next time would be better. I just had to act normal, and soon everything would be normal.
The path was bordered by a few feet of bushes and rocks at the edge of the rim, with an occasional railing to keep people back from the steepest drops. I slowed where I knew the storehouses had to be. A sign warned people to stay on the trail and I smiled, feeling deliciously naughty.
I edged off the path and leaned forward to see down into the canyon. The bottom looked far away. Standing just a couple of feet back from the rim, I couldn’t see the cliff on this side, so it might have been a straight drop. My stomach gave a flip, but I took a deep breath and fought back a slight feeling of vertigo. As soon as I took a step closer, I’d be able to see the way down, and it wouldn’t be that steep—at least not where I was going down.
I heard a scuffling sound from below. Probably birds in the bushes or lizards coming out to enjoy the sun. I thought larger animals like foxes and skunks would have gone into hiding by this time of day. I crept a few feet along the rim, moving silently. Maybe I could get a look at the animal before it saw me and fled.
I heard a faint noise again. I was right above it. Squirrel? Robin? Something more exotic? I leaned forward to look over the rim.
A strange man popped up in front of me.
Chapter 5
I yelped and jerked back so hard I fell on my butt. I scrambled back, my heart thudding, until I backed into a rock and grunted with pain.
The man gasped. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.” He scrambled over the rim.
The sharp pain to my lower back had snapped me out of my panic. It was a repeat of yesterday, me on my butt, a strange man standing over me. At least this one wasn’t yelling or glaring at me. He held out his hand.
Mid-twenties, medium height, broad shoulders like an athlete. Short blond hair and a friendly, boyish face. He looked so concerned that I forced myself to take his hand and let him help me up. “Are you all right? Not hurt?” He didn’t let go even once I was standing.
I pulled my hand away. “No.” I brushed off my shorts. “This is getting to be a habit,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” How many times would I have to feel foolish on this visit? What was it with these men, jumping out at you when you thought you were all alone? I glared at the guy. “What the hell were you doing?”
He shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. “Just looking around.”
“Didn’t you see the sign that says ‘Stay on Path’?” I gestured to it. “You can read, can’t you? Do you think the rules don’t apply—”
Oh Lord, I sounded just like Danesh. Maybe this man had a perfectly legitimate reason for being off the path. Even if he didn’t, I didn’t have to treat him like a child.
I took a deep breath. “Sorry. Too much adrenaline.”
He nodded. “It’s the flight-or-fight response. It has to come out somehow.”
I studied him more closely. He had vivid green eyes and was more cute than handsome. He wore a button-up shirt and khaki pants, fairly dressy for this part of the country. He looked like someone I might have met at one of the bars around Harvard Square.
I gave a cool smile. “That’s understanding of you. But really, we can’t have people going off the path without permission.” I made the statement almost a question. If he did have permission, I would apologize profusely—and strangle Danesh later for not warning me.
“I know. If everyone went wherever they wanted, they’d destroy the landscape, trample valuable artifacts, and generally make a mess of things.” He glanced toward the office, though trees hid the building. “I’m going to have to throw myself on your mercy. I promise I didn’t take anything. I just find it so fascinating out here. I’ve seen the storehouses from across the canyon, and I wanted a closer look, but those guys in the office are so... uh... they don’t like to make exceptions.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it. But what makes you think I’m any different?”
He winced. “Fair enough.” He held out his hands, palms up and wrists together, as if waiting for the handcuffs. “I humbly surrender.”
I had to smile. It was hard to stay mad at someone who accepted that you were totally right, and who kept a sense of humor about it. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but only because I’m anxious to get to work. Promise me you’ll stay on the path in the future, though.”
“Absolutely. So you do work here?” He bent to pick up the sign I had dropped.
“Yes, at least temporarily. I’m doing some archaeological research.”
“Hey, that’s great! I’m something of an amateur archaeologist myself. Oh, don’t worry—I don’t go around picking up arrowheads or taking souvenir bricks. I just mean I’m interested. You sound like the perfect guide. I don’t suppose you’d have time to show me around?”
He seemed nice enough, but I hadn’t even started on my work. And I could hard
ly go traipsing off on a hike with this guy when I’d refused Danesh. I tried to think of a gracious refusal.
“I’m sorry,” the man said. “I should introduce myself. I’m Sean.”
“Kylie. Look, I’m flattered, but I really need to get to work.”
“Of course. Maybe later? Do you have plans for lunch?”
“Uh, I was planning to picnic. I didn’t notice a lot of choices.”
He gave a knowing smile. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. Some of the best food in the state can be found just a few miles from here. Joline’s Diner, at the trading post.”
“Kind of a long drive for lunch, isn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Some people commute fifty, sixty miles to work every day. But there’s never traffic, so it’s not bad. And if you’d go that far just to work, what’s fifteen miles for great food? Come on, give me a chance to make up for startling you.” He gave me this cute grin, like a little boy trying to persuade Mom to buy candy. It was like he knew he could be charming, but he didn’t take it seriously, so he came across as sweet rather than cocky.
I tried to tune into my instincts, but they were still jumping from two scares in as many hours. My instincts had been on overdrive for the last six months anyway, so I hardly trusted them. Still, I said, “I’m not in the habit of getting into a car with a stranger.”
His smile widened. “And that’s why we should go for a hike together first. Anyway, if you want, you can drive, or take a separate car.”
“Look, I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll run into you later.”
“Fair enough. If you’re around for long, I’m sure we’ll run into each other again. I really would love to hear more about your work.” He waved and headed down the path.
I watched him go with mixed feelings. Of course it was flattering to have a good-looking guy express interest, especially one who didn’t mistake me for a 16-year-old at first. And I was trying to return to normal life, which would, one hoped, include dating. But I had to take it slow or risk a serious meltdown. I had enough stress at the moment.