“How much farther?” she asked, when they stopped to take a break. They’d had a solid fifteen minutes without rain, but the ground was a sea of mud. She plopped down in it anyway. She’d given up worrying about her appearance midway through the first day.
“It shouldn’t be more than an hour or so from here.”
“How can you tell? This all looks exactly the same to me.”
“That’s why I’m leading and you’re following.”
“Thanks for that bit of insight, Davy Crockett.”
Rod took a long swallow from his canteen and leaned back against a tree. He closed his eyes and settled his hat over his face.
She glared at him. The man could make himself comfortable on a bed of nails. “Are you going to sleep?”
“I’m resting.”
“A little beauty sleep before you see your old friend Maria?” she inquired with perhaps a touch too much sarcasm. He lifted his hat slightly and peered at her with one baleful eye.
“Oh, never mind.”
She unknotted the bandanna he’d loaned her and used it to wipe the perspiration from her face. Her hair hung in damp, limp clumps. She absolutely refused to take out a mirror and look at it. No wonder Rod had stopped making passes at her. He probably preferred his women to look as though they’d just stepped off the pages of Vogue. She wasn’t even clean.
If she ever got out of this godforsaken place, she swore she was going to sit in her apartment with the air conditioner set at sixty degrees for a month. She sighed with pleasure at the prospect.
The following month she was going to sit in a bathtub with bubbles up to her chin until her skin shriveled up like a prune.
She was going to order carry-out Chinese one night and Italian the next until she’d been through every item on the menus of her favorite restaurants.
And she was going to drink champagne. And iced tea. And lemonade. And diet cola. And her special blend of coffee. Correction. Iced coffee. There would be ice in everything, including the champagne. Let the French cringe. She wanted everything cold.
She opened her canteen, took a drink of lukewarm water and grimaced. It snapped her back to reality.
That was when she also noticed the movement behind the trees. And saw the still, watchful faces. And the arrows.
Oh, dear God!
CHAPTER SIX
They were surrounded.
Cara was certain an entire army of hostile Mexicans was hidden in the jungle, watching them, waiting for who knew what sign before attacking. Eyes wide and heart racing, she bit back a scream. Every muscle in her body tensed and perspiration trickled down the middle of her back. She was terrified to move for fear every one of those arrows would be aimed directly at her. They probably had poisonous tips, too. Not that they didn’t look deadly enough as it was.
“Rod,” she whispered, never taking her eyes off of the silent, watchful Mexicans, whose blank expressions seemed increasingly ominous. “Rod, wake up!”
The only response was his deep, steady breathing. She nudged him with her foot.
“So help me, if you don’t wake up and deal with this,” she swore fervently, “I will borrow one of those arrows and personally put it through your contemptible heart.”
“What’s the problem, princess?”
There was no sleepy confusion about the response, just straightforward curiosity. In fact, he sounded thoroughly wide-awake. She risked a quick peek in his direction. He looked wide-awake—and unconcerned. She felt like shaking him until those perfect white teeth of his rattled.
“Oh, not much for you to worry about,” she said with a nasty edge of sarcasm in her voice. “We’re just surrounded by men with bows and arrows. I could be wrong, but they don’t seem especially friendly.”
He glanced around with no more than cursory interest, shrugged and settled his hat over his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”
She scowled at him and this time when she nudged him, it was with an elbow straight to the ribs. “Don’t you dare go back to sleep. What do you mean don’t worry about it? You haven’t really looked. Did you actually even see them? I’m telling you we’re about to be robbed or murdered or something.” She shuddered at the thought.
He sighed and tilted his hat up. “Princess, quit worrying. I guarantee you there’s not much I miss. You can get yourself killed by not staying alert.”
“Exactly. So how come you’re not panicked now?”
“Why should I panic? They’re friendly.”
Cara took another disbelieving look. She was met by those unblinking, dark-eyed stares. They only reconfirmed her impression. But she wanted to believe Rod. She really did. She tried taking the statement on faith, but her pulse wasn’t buying it.
“What makes you so sure these guys are friendly?”
“Instinct.”
“Instinct?” she repeated incredulously. Her heart was hammering and he was perfectly calmly discussing some stupid sixth sense he thought he had. It was maddening, to say nothing of life-threatening. “Do you realize if your instinct had been wrong, we’d be dead right now?”
“But we’re not, are we?”
“Oh, go to hell,” she snapped in exasperation. It was impossible to dispute that kind of convoluted male logic.
“I’d rather go back to sleep.”
“Terrific. Sleep. Would you mind loaning me the gun in the meantime? Just in case your instincts have failed you, of course.”
“Princess, I promise you I have not made a mistake. Those are Lacandones. Mensäbäk is not far away, and there are several other settlements scattered around Lake Naja. They know me, by sight anyway. You’re the attraction. They don’t see many blue-eyed blondes in this part of the jungle.”
The concept was not nearly as comforting as Rod had obviously intended it to be. “What if they decide they like having me around?”
He actually had the audacity to chuckle at that. Cara didn’t see the humor.
“In that case, I probably would have to use my gun,” Rod conceded. “Meantime, just settle back and get some rest.”
Since there seemed little else she could do, Cara tried to follow his advice. When no arrows pierced her heart, she actually found herself relaxing, her breathing returning to normal. Then she stopped to consider the situation. If the Lacandones were friendly and if they were likely to be dislocated by the dam, she ought to be talking to them about it, not sitting here letting her imagination run wild.
Cautiously she got to her feet. Again, when nothing happened, when no arrows whizzed past her head, she took a step forward, only to have a hand clamp firmly around her ankle.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“To talk to them.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“You’re the one who said they were harmless.”
“I said they probably wouldn’t kill us. I didn’t mean they’d invite you over to have tea. Besides, you can’t speak their dialect.”
“Rod, this is important. I can work around the language barrier. That dam could wipe out their land. I want to know how they feel about it.”
“How do you think they feel? Just because they don’t live in bungalows with white picket fences doesn’t mean they want to be forced out of their homes every time the government thinks up some new project for this part of Mexico.”
“Thanks for the insight, but I’ll feel better if I hear that from them.”
He groaned. “Why the hell couldn’t Scottie have insisted you stick to piano lessons and tea parties?”
“Because he wasn’t around. By the time he turned up, I was playing drums and hooked on coffee. Now are you going to help me with this or not?”
“You’re not going to give it a rest, are you?”
“No.”
He sighed and stood up. “Then let’s go. I’m pretty sure these men came from the settlement near the archaeological site. It’s not much, just a few huts, but you can see the way they live.”
“
We don’t need to go there. We can talk to them here.”
“Not anymore.”
Startled, she looked around and realized the Lacandones had literally vanished into the forest.
Rod was right about the distance to their settlement, though. It took them less than a half hour to reach it. There were no more than half a dozen thatched-roof huts. Clay figures were being baked over an open fire, probably to be sold later at the market at the entrance to the ruins in Palenque. The woman who was watching over the fire scampered away when she saw them. Moments later the same five men who had startled Cara earlier emerged and approached them.
The leader appeared to be well past middle age, though it was hard to tell with his weathered skin. His dark hair hung long and untamed. His flat features reflected his Mayan heritage, and his carriage was proud. All the men were barefoot and wore long white tunics made of a coarse fabric that looked as though it would itch horribly in the heat.
“You stay here,” Rod instructed and for once Cara didn’t argue. “I’ll try talking to them and find out if they’re willing to meet with you.”
As Rod went toward the leader, she began to have second thoughts. Moments later an argument broke out among the men, and one of them stalked off. The others continued to argue as Rod stood by. Dear God, what had she gotten them into this time? She was only trying to do her job, but perhaps, just this once, she should have listened to Rod. They were in the middle of nowhere. They were outnumbered. And from everything that had been going on lately, they were very unpopular with someone. It could be these Lacandones. Her palms began to sweat. There was a prickling sensation along the back of her neck.
And then she heard the music. Vivaldi. Vivaldi? Here? Civilization had apparently made further inroads than she’d realized.
When Rod returned, she said, “Do you hear that?”
He seemed more startled by the question than the music. “The Vivaldi?”
She glowered at him. “Exactly.”
“One of the boys traded a bow and arrow for a tape player. It’s the only tape they have.”
“How do you know that?”
He chuckled. “Are you getting just a little spooked again, princess? I’m not omniscient, if that’s what you’re worried about. I asked.”
“Oh.”
“Now, come on. Señor Castillo will talk with you.”
“What was the argument about?”
“One of the men objected to speaking with an outsider, especially a woman. Señor Castillo and the others overruled him.”
Cara wondered if there had been more to the man’s objections than he’d voiced in front of Rod. Was it possible that he was the one involved in the sabotage and had no wish to sit down with two people he considered the enemy?
Whatever the truth, there was no hostility from the others. When Cara approached, the leader gestured for her to sit, then began speaking slowly. She was able to understand some of what he said, but she looked to Rod for a translation. He was able to fill in some of the gaps.
“He says that this will not be the first time the government has paid no attention to the Lacandones’ wishes. The government tells them go here, go there. It is the way of the world. He says when the government wished to buy the mahogany trees, he tried to explain they were not his to sell. They were put here by the gods, not man. Still, the trees were cut down. People came who did not understand the land. They have destroyed it.”
Cara watched the man’s eyes as he spoke and saw the sorrow, the resignation. He reminded her of the American Indians, whose lands were lost to a civilization they didn’t understand.
“Will he fight?”
Rod asked the question for her, then listened to the response before saying, “He says there would be no point.”
“But where will his people go?”
Apparently Señor Castillo sensed her compassion, because for the first time his expressionless face creased with a faint smile.
“He says they will do as they have always done. They will move on to the next place. They are few, their needs are slight, and it is still a big forest.”
Suddenly Rod seemed surprised by something the man said. “He asks if you would like to see the land they farm.”
Cara nodded with enthusiasm, though she feared another slash-and-burn piece of farmland. “Of course.”
Proudly the men led them to land that had been cultivated in tune with the rain forest. Cara’s eyes widened at the variety of crops they found. Corn, rice, pineapple, limes, oranges, avocados and tobacco flourished. Here there was no evidence of the destructive slash-and-burn technique. She asked about it.
“That is the way of the newcomers who know nothing of the land,” Rod translated. Cara was able to detect the bitterness in the Lacandones’s voice. “He says they have been able to farm the same land over and over because they understand it and respect it. As a result the gods are kind and their harvest is bountiful.”
“Tell him I am impressed,” Cara said in Spanish, hoping that Señor Castillo would understand enough of the words to hear her enthusiasm.
This time the man’s smile was wide. He offered them food before they continued on their journey. Over the meal he told them of the Mayan legends and gods.
“We pray to Hachäkyum to watch over us and heal us. This is the traditional way. We also have Känänk’ash, the Lord of the Forest, and K’ak, the Lord of Fire. Yaxchilan and Palenque are the ceremonial sites of our religion. We continue to make pilgrimages there to show the gods we have not forgotten them, even as the world around us changes.”
“But Yaxchilan would be lost if the dam were constructed,” Cara said with a sudden feeling of dismay.
“It may make the gods very angry,” he responded simply. “Perhaps if we light incense and make foods for the gods, they will understand. We will hear their answers if we listen well to the wind.”
It was with the disquieting sense that she might be a party to the further destruction of a gentle way of life that Cara said goodbye.
Señor Castillo looked into her eyes and Cara had the feeling that he could see into her soul. “You will do no harm,” he said quietly. “I believe that you are a kindred spirit.”
His faith weighed on her. As they prepared to leave, the woman they had seen earlier approached and shyly offered her one of the clay figures.
“Gracias,” Cara said, touched by the gesture. “Es muy bonita.”
Then she noticed the woman staring at the red bandanna knotted around her neck. She took it off and held it out. The woman took it and a smile lit her dark, serious eyes.
“Bonita,” she said softly.
As Cara left the camp, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. It was as if she’d been touched by something pure and gentle, only to discover it was endangered—and by her. Even Rod seemed to have become caught up in the mystical mood. His expression was brooding and he was quiet as they walked toward the archaeological site. Finally he looked down at her. He reached out and took her hand in his and held it tightly.
“Having second thoughts, princess?”
Cara nodded. “How are we ever supposed to know what’s right?”
He ran a finger along her cheek. “I think you just have to do what’s in your heart.”
Cara trembled at his touch. What was in her heart right now was need beyond anything she’d ever known before. She wanted this sometimes sensitive, sometimes impossible man to hold her and teach her everything there was to know about passion. It was as if the visit to the Lacandones had somehow awakened her to the importance of many things, including love. Like the rain forest, love came with no guarantees that it would last forever. It was up to the individual to treasure it and respect the gift while it was his. She raised her face to Rod’s, her eyes still shimmering with unshed tears.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Rod whispered with raw urgency. “Not unless you mean for me to make love to you here and now.”
She looked away, but the yearning built inside
her, growing more powerful by far than the doubts. “I’m not sure what I want anymore.”
The smile he gave her was rueful. “Not exactly the passionate declaration I was hoping for, princess, but you’re getting closer.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said and lapsed into silence.
* * *
It was late afternoon when they arrived at the archaeological site. The man who came to greet them was tall and distinguished, with touches of silver in his black hair. If he was disconcerted by their unexpected appearance, he hid it well.
“So, Señor Craig, you are back again,” he said enthusiastically. “I thought perhaps your work would be completed by now.”
“There have been some delays,” Rod told him. “But we will be finished soon. Señorita Scott wished to meet with you to discuss your feelings about the dam before we leave. Cara, this is Rafael Riva. He discovered this site and is in charge of the research.”
“Señorita, it is my pleasure,” Rafael said, bowing over her hand. She searched his expression for some sign of antipathy, but he seemed sincerely delighted to see them. “I appreciate your willingness to come all this way to talk with us.”
Before Cara could respond, there was a whoop of delight from Rod and she turned just in time to see his face light up as he spotted a woman coming toward them. Slender, her midnight black hair flowing down her back, she walked with the regal bearing of a woman who was totally sure of herself. With a thoroughly unfamiliar sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Cara watched as Rod swept the woman into an exuberant embrace and swung her around. She had no doubts at all that this was Maria Herrera.
“They are old friends,” Rafael said in a low voice, apparently reading Cara’s sudden attack of insecurity. “Do not seek out trouble where there is none.”
She looked into kind eyes that danced with amusement. “You can be so certain?” she said dubiously. “They appear quite fond of each other.”
“As they are. But I know Maria well, señorita,” he said with conviction. “Her heart lies elsewhere. As for Señor Craig, his eyes light only for you. You have nothing to worry about.”
In Too Deep Page 8
