Indiana Jones and the Unicorn's Legacy

by Rob MacGregor

  I didn't want Mara to inherit it or have anything to do with it. Someday, Mara, you'll read this diary, and understand about our family's history. But for now I'm keeping it hidden. You're young and hopeful, and I don't want any ideas of curses hanging over your pretty head.

  Sara Rogers Smithers

  Indy was about to close the journal and join Smitty, but he remembered that he hadn't completely read Mara's entry. He turned to the last paragraphs.

  In spite of everything I know about the staff, I am intent on finding it. Although the coincidences are numerous and unfortunate, I am a modern person and don't believe in superstitions. I want to find this unique artifact, and Aguila understands my interest. However, he has offered very little in the way of a clue to its location. It's a game with him, I think, and I'm playing along. I have thought a great deal about what I will do with the staff. At first, I only wanted to keep it for myself but I changed my mind. Once I have it in my possession, I will quickly donate it to a museum. I want it studied so we know exactly what it is. But I want to make sure it gets displayed. That way, everyone can share in the magic of our past.

  But now I'm concerned. Aguila told me that my life is in danger because of the staff. In a couple of weeks, I'm supposed to meet my friend Indy in Bluff, and I wish it were sooner. I feel the danger nearby. I'm afraid that my father might be the source of it, but maybe I'm wrong. Anyhow, I'm hiding the journal, because I fear it will be stolen if I don't.

  There's one thing I suppose I should add. My mother, Sara, killed herself. She put prussic acid in her food. Maybe she felt she had no choice. She believed in Fate, and the power of the unicorn's horn.

  Indy snapped the journal closed, and blew out the candle as he mulled over what he'd read. Even though Mara didn't believe in curses, she now found her own life in danger as a result of the alicorn. If that wasn't ironic enough, she also found herself on an extraordinary treasure hunt being directed by an Indian shaman. Yet, she had continued her pursuit. Something about it didn't quite make sense.

  "Indy! Indy!"

  He tucked the journal under the seat of the Ford, where it would be safe, then stepped out into the darkness. "What is it?"

  "Mara is here! Come on. Get your butt over here."

  15

  Hovenweep

  The Packard came to a stop at the end of a dirt road. Darkness had blanketed the desert, obscuring the ruins. Walcott stepped out of the car, taking care not to jar his injured arm. Jimbo opened the back door for Rosie and Shannon, and his revolver followed Shannon's every move.

  Walcott saw the shadow of a building that looked like a tower. So this was Hovenweep. Now, time for the truth. "Okay, where is it, Rosie?"

  "We have to walk from here," she answered.

  "How far?"

  "Maybe an hour, maybe a little longer."

  "An hour?" Walcott felt weak and feverish. But he couldn't stop now. Not when he was so close.

  "You better be right," Jimbo growled, "or you're going to be one dead—"

  "That's enough," Walcott snapped. "We don't need to make threats as long as everyone is cooperating. Rosie knows we're not playing games. Don't you, Rosie?" He pulled out a knife and cut the cloth that bound her wrists. As he moved over to Shannon with the knife, he told Jimbo to get the shovels and lantern from the trunk.

  Walcott knew that Jimbo didn't like being admonished in front of the two captives, but the burly ranch hand did what he was told. He'd been out of jail only a couple of weeks when Walcott had met and hired him and a couple of the others at a bar in Cortez. This afternoon he'd found Jimbo back at the bar and had given him seventy dollars. Walcott needed the help, but he had to watch the ranch hand. Like right now, he thought, as Jimbo handed Shannon one of the shovels.

  Walcott jerked it out of Shannon's grasp, and thrust it back at Jimbo. "You carry them both."

  "Why can't he carry one?" Jimbo said.

  "Think about it, my friend. Do you want him to carry your gun, too? I didn't say I trusted them, Jimbo. I only want to make sure they don't stumble on the rocks and hit their heads. We need Rosie to lead the way, and Shannon to help you dig. Now get my box for me. Please."

  Walcott hitched his sling, adjusting his wounded arm, and shook a couple of cigarettes loose from his pack. He lit one and stuck the other behind his ear. The longer he was around Jimbo, the less he liked him. But it would be over soon. They'd have the ivory staff and that would be that. He'd pay off Jimbo, and never see him again. Of course, the other possibility was that he could knock off the ranch hand and the other two as well and be done with the lot of them. As he saw it, they were all expendable. The fewer the witnesses, the better.

  Jimbo handed him the long wooden box for the staff. "I gotta carry the lantern, too?" Jimbo complained.

  The brute was like a little child, Walcott thought. He closed his eyes a moment, wishing away his fever and the pain. Then he glared at Jimbo. "Put the two shovels over your shoulder and hook the lantern over the handles. That way you'll have a hand free just in case you need to reach for your gun."

  They followed a trail along the rim of the canyon, passing more stone towers. Some were circular, some square, others oval. What the devil were these Indians up to around here? In his years as an archaeology student and instructor, Walcott had never even considered North America as territory worthy of consideration. The ruins were minimal, recent, and impoverished. The gold artifacts came from South American cultures, not the nomads of the North.

  But the more time Walcott spent in the Southwest, the more his opinion was changing. The Anasazis may not have had the material wealth of the Aztecs, but their ability to survive in a harsh environment astonished him. Mesa Verde was an architectural masterpiece, and these towers, what he could see of them, were another mystery. Maybe after he cashed in on the ivory staff, he'd come here and just enjoy himself. Besides, there were probably other treasures hidden here he didn't know about. But the staff was all that mattered now and the future was up for grabs.

  They descended to the bottom of the canyon and continued walking. Before they'd covered a mile, Walcott started to wonder if Rosie was leading them into a trap. The box he was carrying was getting heavier and heavier as they covered a second mile, then a third. He did his best to stay alert and ready to draw his .38.

  Finally, Rosie stopped, and Walcott realized they were standing below more ruins. A full moon had risen above the canyon wall and the illuminated towers looked eerie and unearthly. "Here we are," she said.

  "Which one of them is it?" Walcott asked, gazing up at the structures.

  "None of them. It's down here. Right in front of us." She pointed to a massive rock that backed against the base of the canyon wall. It rose at least fifteen feet high and was twice as long. "I don't see anything," Walcott said.

  Rosie walked around the end of the rock and Walcott drew his gun as he hurried after her. She paused in front of an opening in the rock, and pointed at the cavity. "In there."

  "Are you sure?" he asked.

  She nodded. "I came here with my grandfather one morning at sunrise. We sat in front of the rock with the unicorn's horn for a long time, maybe an hour. Then he told me to wait. He went in through that crevice. When he came out, he didn't have it anymore."

  "How long was he in there?"

  "Maybe fifteen minutes."

  "Then it shouldn't take too long to find it," Jimbo said.

  Walcott turned to him and Shannon. "That depends, Jimbo. That depends."

  "What do you mean?"

  Walcott could see that Jimbo didn't like his superior attitude, but he didn't give a damn what Jimbo thought. "Did your grandfather have a shovel with him, Rosie?"

  She shook her head.

  The Englishman smiled. "See what I mean, Jimbo?"

  "I don't get it. How did he bury it then?"

  "If he didn't have a shovel," Walcott explained, "it means that the old man must have come here in advance and dug a hole. In that case, he could have spent
a long time digging it."

  To his surprise, Jimbo challenged him. "Why would he come here twice? It doesn't make no sense."

  Walcott looked at Rosie for support. But if she agreed with him, she didn't show it.

  "The first time was for the work, the second was for the sunrise ceremony," Walcott explained. "He went inside, dropped it in the hole, and kicked the dirt over it. Am I right, Rosie?"

  "I don't know what he did in there," she answered. "I didn't look."

  Jimbo scowled at Walcott. "What're you trying to tell me, that it's buried deep, or what?"

  "Maybe he didn't bury it at all," Shannon said. "Maybe he just left it in there."

  "Shut your mouth," Jimbo snapped, taking out his frustration. "Nobody's asking you."

  Walcott lit the lantern. "I'm going to take a look. Watch them closely."

  Walcott entered the crevice and found a corridor about three feet wide. The staff could be buried anywhere in here, he thought. They might have to dig up the entire floor.

  He stopped and held up the lantern as he spotted a rock carving. He moved closer and studied the three circular symbols. He touched a finger to the one in the center, which was a series of concentric circles. He drew a line to the ground and scratched an X with his fingernail. "Right here."

  He stood up, brushed his hands off, and smiled smugly to himself. This might not take so long after all. He moved ahead and found another way out at the far end of the corridor, then retraced his steps. He passed the lantern to Jimbo. "It's too narrow for more than one person to work at a time. But you can start digging in the floor right where I made an X below the marks on the wall."

  Walcott lit the cigarette he'd been saving behind his ear, and set the box down on a rock next to him. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go to work."

  Jimbo nodded toward Shannon. "He should do it, not me."

  Walcott blew a cloud of smoke over Jimbo's head. "You're bigger and stronger and you've got something to gain. You can do it faster and better. When you're ready to be relieved, I'll supervise Shannon."

  Jimbo grunted and headed back into the crevice. He was not a happy treasure hunter.

  "Is that really you?" Indy asked.

  Mara's blond hair was short, and in the darkness in front of the hogan, Indy couldn't be sure. Then she smiled and her face lit up and he had no more doubts.

  "Hello, Indy." She took a tentative step closer to him.

  He reached out and took both of her hands in his own. "It's been a long time."

  She hugged him. "I was starting to wonder if I was ever going to see you again. God, I'm glad you're here... and I'm here."

  "I know what you mean. The Old West has been pretty wild lately."

  She stepped back from him and seemed embarrassed. "I'm sorry I've caused so much trouble."

  "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad to see you alive. How did you get here, and where were you?"

  "Aguila and I came together on horseback from White Canyon."

  Smitty cleared his throat. "Why don't we go inside. I've got fried potatoes and corn on the stove, and if you don't mind beef jerky, I've got plenty of that with me."

  "I'm starved," Mara said.

  "Hey, wait a minute," Indy said. "Where's Aguila? I haven't even met him yet.... At least, I don't think I have." His voice trailed off.

  Mara and Smitty exchanged glances. "When we were less than a mile away, he told me to go on. He said he had other things to do, and would get here as soon as he could."

  "Busy guy," Indy commented. "He knew where you were hiding, didn't he?"

  "He guessed. C'mon." She took his hand and led him toward the hogan.

  He liked the feel of her cool hand in his and thought how odd it was to see her just after reading what she'd written. "I found the journal."

  "I know. Dad told me," she said as they stepped inside. "I just knew you'd figure out the message. The last thing I wanted was for Walcott to get his hands on my family history. He'd probably sell it to the highest bidder."

  "We headed back as soon as we found out that Aguila knew more than he was saying. But I guess if you're here, and you're all right, it doesn't matter where he is."

  "I'm afraid it does," she said.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Dad, can I help with the meal?"

  "No. You two just sit down and talk."

  They took seats at Aguila's rustic wooden table. "What it means, Indy, is that if Aguila doesn't get here soon, he's not keeping his promise to me. He said he would show me on the solstice where the staff is hidden, and that's tomorrow."

  "Then we've got a whole day."

  She shook her head. "I don't think so. We may only have until morning."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "According to Aguila, the ancient ones, the Anasazis, were astronomers. Most of the pueblos had special, sacred places that were aligned with the sun so that the beginning of each season, at sunrise, they could be observed by the priest-astronomers."

  Indy nodded. "That's possible, but what's it got to do with finding the staff?"

  "I'm not sure, but Aguila made it clear that daybreak was important."

  As Smitty carried plates of food to the table, he offered his own opinion. "Maybe it's hidden in a spot you can't see unless the sun hits it just right."

  "That could be, Dad. If you've got some hot water there, I've got some tea. It's a special type that Aguila made for me."

  Indy nearly choked. "None for me, thank you. I've sampled Aguila's tea."

  Mara looked puzzled. "You've had some already?"

  "Did he ever," Smitty said with a chuckle as he examined the bag of herbs Mara had passed to him. "It cured a bad headache, but made him crazy for awhile. He thought he went flying like an eagle."

  "I'm sure this is different tea. It's very mild. I've had it before."

  "I don't think I'll have any of that tea, either, if you don't mind," Smitty said.

  As they ate, Indy couldn't help thinking about his dream again. Mara's mention of the tea had triggered his memory, and he was amazed how well he could still remember it and how real it had seemed. Dreams were supposed to be fantasies and nonsensical jumbles of nonevents, but he was convinced his flying dream had been a premonition that he would find the spot where Mara had hidden her journal. There was more to the dream, and now he remembered the eagles had landed at a place with petroglyphs.

  "What are you thinking about?" Mara asked.

  "Circles."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I saw them in a dream I had after I drank the tea."

  Smitty laughed. "Oh, boy, here we go again."

  "Tell me about it," Mara said, her curiosity aroused.

  Indy recounted how the dream had started, how it felt to fly and how he'd talked with the other eagle, who was Aguila. Then he jumped to the end of the dream, and explained how the two birds had landed by a kiva and one of them had dropped a feather.

  "You mean the eagle feather was actually there?" Mara asked.

  "Right near the sipapu."

  "It could be any old eagle feather," Smitty said.

  "That's true," Indy conceded.

  "Tell me about these circles," Mara asked.

  "That was somewhere else. I saw them on a wall like petroglyphs." He proceeded to describe the three circular engravings.

  Mara looked as if she could barely restrain herself. "Where did you see them?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. It was a dream."

  "Was there anything else you could identify?" she persisted.

  "Wait a minute. There was something. Towers. It was a ruin with towers."

  "Only one place around this territory with old towers, and that's Hovenweep," Smitty said. "It's about an hour out of Bluff when the roads are good. When it rains, you can't even get there by horseback."

  Mara leaped to her feet. "That's it! That's where the staff is hidden. We've got to get to Hovenweep and find those circles before sunrise."

  "Hold it! Why a
re you so blasted sure about this, girl?" Smitty asked.

  "Because last night I dreamed the same thing. Not about the eagles, but the symbols. That was Aguila telling me where to look. He did keep his promise."

  Shannon and Rosie sat side by side on a flat rock as Walcott smoked and watched them from a few feet away. The Englishman kept his revolver holstered, almost as if he were challenging him to make a move, looking for an excuse to gun him down. Even though his hands were tied, Shannon was tempted to jump him. He was waiting for Walcott to relax and turn his attention away. With one arm in a sling he was vulnerable, and besides that he looked ill. Shannon wasn't going to pass up any chances to turn the situation in his favor. He couldn't just wait and play Walcott's game; he sensed there was no future in that. Not for him, and not for Rosie, either.

  "So you never told Mara about this place?" Shannon asked Rosie. He kept an eye on Walcott.

  "I respected Grandpa too much to tell Mara. I always thought he would show the unicorn's horn to her himself."

  Walcott tossed the burning butt of his cigarette at Shannon's foot. "If you want to talk, talk to me, not between yourselves."

  It was just what Shannon wanted. If he could engage Walcott in conversation, he might catch him off guard. "So do you really think this ivory staff is a unicorn's horn?"

  "It used to be."

  "What's that mean?"

  "Unicorns are a myth, but the staff is from the time when people believed in them." Walcott smiled as trails of smoke wafted from the corners of his mouth.