Chapter 8
Isabella thanked the old man again and tucked her journal into her vest pocket. Once she settled in at the dig, she’d study the drawings and do a more thorough reading. This broken corner of a larger stone tablet told of a ceremony for the moon god. Her skin tingled with excitement. If the ease in which she deciphered this stone was any indication, she’d have Virgil’s tablet decoded and be back in the states with her funding in plenty of time.
Sweet joy warmed her insides unlike the tropical heat steaming her skin. She was anxious to share her newfound information with Tino.
She stepped outside the small home and blinked at the bright sunlight. How long had she sat meticulously replicating the drawings into her journal? Isabella patted her camera. She had photos too, but the poor lighting and the flash hadn’t combined well to capture every detail of the stone engravings. The small nuances of an artist’s portrayal of a character told as much as the character itself. Twisting her wrist, she glanced at the watch her father had given her on her twenty-first birthday. He told her all anthropologists and archeologists wore this style. Each year on her birthday he arrived, kissed her forehead, and took the watch to be cleaned and a fresh battery installed. When he returned, he replaced the watch on her wrist, kissed her forehead, and disappeared for another year. At first, she thought his actions corny, but now she realized it was her father’s way of making sure the watch always worked and she always had a piece of him with her.
Two o’clock. She scanned the area around the house. Where was Tino?
Isabella settled the backpack on her shoulders and meandered between the buildings and back toward the boat. A five minute walk covered the small settlement. She’d expected to bump into Tino. At the boat, the boy and the supplies all remained at the edge of the wide river. But no Tino.
She asked the boy in Chol if he knew where Tino went.
His thin shoulders rose and fell.
She scanned the area again. Where could Tino be? She didn’t know the word for tavern but with hand motions and her limited vocabulary she managed to get a response from the boy.
“No.”
No tavern, no anything that she could see to occupy Tino. He wouldn’t leave her stranded. Her instincts told her that much.
Not one to sit around and wait, she stared at the river and the boat. Could she navigate the river by herself? Dock and find the location where the trail led to the dig? Her mind said she could figure it all out, but her gut clenched in uncertainty.
So, she sat and waited until the heat and her curiosity drove her away from the river and back through the village. Sunlight filtering between the trunks of the trees intrigued her. Any sunlight in the jungle came from above. The high foliage of the mahogany and palm trees didn’t allow for strong light under the canopy but rather a soft natural light with muted shadows.
Isabella stepped out of the trees. The intense sunlight, the heat, and the ravaged vision in front of her struck like a well-placed taekwondo kick to the midsection. Tears welled in her eyes at the stark landscape. Ash covered the once-green forest floor. Black stumps, shriveled blackened plants, and dead trees sporadically poked out of the ash. This devastation didn’t go on for miles, it had been contained and men worked on the far side turning the soil.
But what of the fires that did get out of control? The chatter of birds in the trees to her left reminded her of the creatures that lost their homes. Deep in her thoughts, she leaned against a tree and watched the men prepare the earth for planting. How did one determine the loss of a forest against the production of food for the locals?
A hand rested on her shoulder. The heat and weight told her it was Tino. Her inner debate over the ethical use of the forest came to a halt.
“It’s sad.”
“They are lucky their clearing did not burn out of control.” Tino squeezed her shoulder.
“I agree. I can imagine the devastation a runaway fire could cause. One would think in a rain forest the vegetation would be too wet to burn.” She ran a hand over the cool, damp bark of the tree she leaned against.
“The forest is not as saturated as in years past. Each year less rain falls and the pattern of the weather alters. These changes have caused the rain forest to become drier and more susceptible to fires.” He slid his palm down her arm and captured her hand. “Come. We must hurry if we are to arrive at the dig before dark.”
Isabella nodded. She should extract her hand from his but the strength of his wide calloused hand holding her was new. The comfort and warmth it instilled in her, took her by surprise.
She slipped her hand from his. “Where were you? I looked all over the village.”
Tino regretted taking her hand. It was plain she didn’t appreciate his touch after last night. But touching her felt right. Shoving aside his ego, he smiled at her. He’d known if she wasn’t in the old man’s shack she would be looking for him. Her inquisitive mind wouldn’t let his disappearance pass unnoticed. The worst part…he hadn’t yet come up with a convincing alibi.
“I went for a walk and lost track of the time.” He stopped beside the boat and helped her climb in.
She spun around and stared at him with accusing eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
Her bluntness kept him on his toes. He curved his lips in the kind of smile he’d reserved for his abuela Juanita and said, “I heard the locals spotted a jaguar recently. I went in search of the animal to see if I could tag it.”
Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. “I thought you said they didn’t come out until dark?”
Tino shrugged. “I said that yesterday so you would not become more frightened.” He leaned down, untied the boat, and pushed it into the river.
Isabella squeaked and plopped her bottom onto the seat.
He jumped in and moved past her to start the motor and navigate into the center of the river. Keeping his DEA business from her was proving difficult. Her intellect dissected everything, another good reason to rid himself of the enticing doctor.
“Did you find signs of the jaguar?”
“Yes, I will return after I drop you off.” The motor sputtered and caught. He spun the boat and steered it along the river bank about thirty feet from the shoreline. The river was wide and in the middle flowed a strong current that would carry them faster but also would hinder his steering of the small craft.
“Is there another settlement where the trail to the dig starts?” Isabella batted at the pesky cloud of mosquitoes and pulled out her can of DEET.
“No, but there should be boats at the landing. It is the only way to get supplies in and out of the dig.” He wondered about the men he’d followed from the settlement. The two younger men had climbed into a boat and headed up river, while the older man settled into a small boat with a powerful engine and gunned himself down river, in the same direction he and Isabella traveled.
“Are you considered a game warden since you tag cats?”
He looked over at Isabella. Her inquisitive mind never rested. “You must be exhausted every night when you go to bed.”
Her brow furrowed and she stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“You are always thinking up questions and working your mind. It must be exhausting.” Smugness squeezed his chest. He had directed her attention on something other than himself.
“Stimulating. I enjoy solving puzzles and piecing together history. Don’t you enjoy using your wits to outsmart the animals you tag?”
“Sí.” ¡Coño! She put the conversation back on him. “I do not run into a jaguar every day. That means I get to rest. Like now, when I work as a guide I sit back, steer the boat, and enjoy the scenery.” He let his gaze drift from Isabella’s head down her body to her sturdy hiking boots and back up to her cheeks which took on a red hue to rival the macaw.
“Do you always watch the scenery inside the boat and not around you?”
The hint of insecurity ringing in her voice injected him with a need to make her see her worth. “No. There has
never been another in my boat who rivaled the scenery.”
Her cheeks deepened in color and she directed her attention to the forest pressing into and over the edges of the river.
Tino focused on the shoreline. The trail head should be in the next thousand meters of river.
“I see the boats!” Isabella pointed at the shoreline at the same moment he spotted the small boat with the large motor.
So the man he’d watched at the settlement was part of the dig. Why would he go all that distance to talk to those young men and not bring back any supplies?
Tino navigated the boat up to the shore, hopped out, and pulled it aground. He helped Isabella out of the boat and gathered his gear. He walked over to the small boat and touched the engine. Still piping hot.
“Here’s a snack to eat along the way. I want to get you to the dig before the sun goes down.” He handed Isabella an energy bar and shouldered his pack. Setting out at a brisk pace, he headed up the trail.
“Are you scared of the dark?” she snickered.
“Always the smart remark. No, trying to find your way around in the jungle at night is next to impossible.”
“But there’s a clear trail.”
“When it gets dark it will not be so clear.” He continued up the path at a good clip. They might catch up to the man who had docked right before they arrived. Fifteen minutes up the trail, he detected the low rumble of the man’s voice from the settlement.
Tino pivoted and placed a finger on Isabella’s lips. He leaned close and whispered, “I hear a cat. I am going to try and sneak up on him. You continue up the trail. I will catch up when I have either tagged the cat or lost him.”
She started to open her mouth. He had to find out what the man was doing. Tino pressed a brief kiss to her lips, nudged her up the trail, and left the well-traveled path to move quickly and quietly through the trees toward the voices.
Isabella stared at Tino’s back until he disappeared among the tree trunks and ferns. The man was full of contradictions. First he says hurry we have to get to the dig before dark then he goes chasing off after a cat and leaves her to fend for herself.
And he kissed me again. It was reminiscent of the type her father and Virgil buzzed her lips with. Only warmer more intimate. I like collecting kiss data. As long as she remembered all this kissing meant nothing to Tino. Either that or he’d been in the jungle way too long.
Sighing in resignation, she squared the pack on her back and set off on the path to Ch’ujuña.
The first thirty minutes of the path proved easy walking. The well-cleared trail had smaller, less discernible paths jutting off on either side now and then. Were they animal trails? If so, would a jaguar come bounding out in front of her with Tino in pursuit? As the path started a gradual climb, vegetation crept onto the trail narrowing the passageway.
This didn’t make sense. How were supplies delivered to the dig site with such a poorly maintained path? She pulled out her knife and hacked at vines hanging across the trail from the shorter copal and cedar trees. Sweat mixed with the humid air and mosquito spray trickled down her neck and back. The handle of the knife became slick, slipping and throwing off her aim as she hacked at the vines.
She stepped forward and something crunched under her foot. Raising her boot, she stared at a four-inch-long squashed beetle. Shudders rippled across her shoulder blades. Insects and snakes, while not a favorite, usually didn’t make her squeamish. But the size of this creature gave rise to what other huge invertebrates she might encounter.
Silence cloaked the forest as smothering and unnerving as a blanket thrown over her head. The eerie quiet injected Isabella with fear. No one but Tino knew where she’d gone. What if something happened to her? To Tino?
Rain poured from the sky breaking the silence. The rhythmic sound and refreshing coolness lifted her spirits. Her hat did little to protect her from the rush of water over her head. She took it off, unbraided her hair, and let the water pour through, cooling her scalp.
Within minutes, water gushed down the path.
Isabella stepped out of the way of the stream and tucked her body against a tree trunk, perching on exposed roots. She’d have to wait out the storm. Alone. Where was Tino? How much farther to the dig? If the rain hadn’t been using the path as a stream bed, she could continue.
She dug in one vest pocket, pulling out a nutrition bar. In another pocket, she found a plastic bag. Opening the bag, she caught rainwater, sealed the bag, and slid it into a pocket while she ate the bar. The whole grains and natural sweeteners of the bar dried her mouth. She drank the pure rain water, savoring the sweet taste, and refilled the bag, placing it in an outside pocket on her pack. The cool, refreshing liquid might come in handy later and it didn’t need to be purified.
The rain stopped as abruptly as it started but water continued to gush down the path. A glance at her watch helped little. Patience was needed traveling in this forest. Fortunately, her studies of ancient people and cultures gave her a Zen-like ability to perceive patience as a virtue. With slow, steady digging and research, she would learn all there was to know about the people who first inhabited the Americas.
A mist crept in, settling over the forest. The ethereal feel and quiet seeped around her like the relaxing warmth of a steam bath. Savoring the moment, she closed her eyes and inhaled. The moist air, laced with exotic floral scents and decaying plants, perfumed the air. Nothing could be better than standing in a rainforest enjoying the wildness and peace. Birds moved about the canopy above. Their raucous squawks reminded her of Alabaster, her cockatoo. He no doubt was thriving in the care of Mrs. Sullivan, her next door neighbor. He molted and became defiant when she was home, but loved her neighbor.
“¡Carajo! What are you doing here?” Tino’s loud whisper and accusing tone jarred her pondering.
Isabella’s heart hammered against her breastbone. Her eyes shot open and she spun toward Tino’s voice. He stood on the path where she’d cut the vines.
She willed the adrenaline his appearance produced to lessen and pointed the knife at him. “You told me to continue to the dig.”
His arms crossed. A sardonic smile raised one side of his mouth. “You are headed the wrong direction.”
“But…the path…” The wrong way? The arm holding the knife dropped to her side. If Tino hadn’t found her…
Tino’s arms encircled her as she swayed.
“I could’ve…jaguars…narcos…I could…” She stared into his eyes. The knowledge that spun in her head was revealed in his dull gaze.
“Mi pichón, what were you thinking? You are lucky I found you.” His voice caressed her frazzled nerves.
He called her his little dove. Her heart pattered in her chest.
Then the macho tone of the rest of his comment sunk in and raised her feminist antennae. “I wouldn’t have been on the wrong trail if you hadn’t charged off after some wild animal.” She pushed out of his arms and willed her backbone to snap straight and her fear to dissolve. Anger was always better than giving into fear. “Did you find the jaguar?”
“Sí.” His gaze drifted over her left shoulder.
He was hiding something. His posture and avoidance screamed deception.
Narrowing her eyes, she stared at him. “I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged. “Believe what you wish. The trail to the dig is back down this path.” He brushed past her, heading down the trail.
“Errr,” Isabella growled, throwing up her hands, and stomping behind him. She hated he lied to her, she had to rely on him, and the elation that had coursed through her body when he’d stepped out of the forest.
Tino couldn’t believe Isabella took the wrong path almost ending up in the small contingent of narcos he’d followed. The group he tailed converged for a reason. Unfortunately, he’d left before finding out what. A niggling sensation warned him to get back to Isabella. Now he knew why. She’d been about to burst into something deadly.
He glanced over his shoulder
to make sure the noise she made meant she followed and not headed off in another direction. She’d looked completely at peace when he came upon her. From the condition of her wet clothes and stringy hair, she hadn’t taken cover from the rain. Her acceptance of what nature tossed out, and the way she struck out alone brought a smile to his lips. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. There were a few tough females he had come across in his line of work, but none of them would have put up with what Isabella had so far without complaining. He was sure of it.
He found the path to the dig and turned.
“How do you know this is the path to Ch’ujuña?” Isabella’s voice held a hint of awe.
He would die before he told her he’d put the coordinates in his watch. Her believing he was a great guide bumped his ego up a notch.
“This is a kilometer from the river.”
“How do you know that when we came from the other direction?” She stopped and placed her hands on her hips.
“When I came this way, I noted the distance and the path markings.” Coño, she is hard to impress.
“Then you’re positive this is the path?” She straightened her pack and took a step forward.
“Sí, this is the path. Another half hour and we should be at the dig.” He trudged along the narrow path, keeping an eye out for the narcos. He had no clue which direction they would go once their meeting was over.
“That stone the old man had…” A grunt trailed her words.
The zing of metal hacking at a thick vine rang in his ears. Isabella had a fondness for using the knife she confiscated.
She grunted, again, and the blade thunked, again. “It has markings that tell of a ceremony. But it’s only a small piece of a much larger stone.”
“Is it information that is useful?” He swung around to find out why she hacked at a vine when they should be moving forward.
“I think so. I mean, for the Mayans to have written the story down, it had to have been a significant ceremony.”
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 90
