Unexpected Love (White Oak-Mafia #2)

by Liza O'Connor

  The trail up was so clean he had no concern of losing his way. But that didn’t stop him for purposely going off-trail when something in the forest caught his eye. The first spot he noticed was about forty feet up. It would require further assessment and soil removal before he could determine if anything of interest was there, so he moved on. The next spot had an oddly flat plateau on the side of the hill, which had clearly been carved out by humans. Too curious to wait, he detoured onto the flat ground. He carefully brushed away the leaves covering small flat boulders placed in a large circle. Without question, this was the site of a village.

  Tess smiled at him. “How did you see this? I’ve hiked through here many times and never once saw a thing.”

  “Twelve thousand years ago, there probably weren’t any trees here. It’s a great location for a village to settle. They’d have easy access to the river, fish, and game, but by being this high up, no one could sneak up unseen, nor mount any successful attack given the steep, narrow trail. From here they could hurtle spears and rocks down on unwanted visitors.”

  He turned and swept his hand across the land before him. “Their village was here.”

  Tess sobered. “Does that mean you’ll remove all these trees?”

  “To be honest, removing the trees would probably destroy more artifacts than digging around them.”

  Tess sighed. “The very young trees have a deep center tap root, so they should be fine. However, digging around will probably kill the two to four-inch trees, so you might as well remove them. The older trees should be able to survive as long as you lift rather than remove the fibrous network of roots that lie about a foot underground. Of course, if you find something, then matters will have to be reassessed. I’m assuming if you don’t find anything, the soil can be replaced?”

  He approached her and rubbed his thumb against the deep furrows that creased her forehead. “I will seek your advice every step along the way, but Tess, in the end, I need your agreement that excavating this site is more important than saving these trees.”

  She met his eyes. “You have my agreement. But if larger trees die due to your digging, they have the potential to destroy a great deal when they fall, not to mention the danger to your people excavating.”

  God, he couldn’t have found a better partner had he custom ordered her. Truth is he couldn’t have imagined such a treasure. He wanted to thank her with a kiss, but that road, he dared not travel. “Let’s return to the trail and see what else I can find.”

  As they made their way farther along the trail, he stopped and studied the ancient tool marks that had cut the wall of the cliff. “This rock may have been softer long ago. Tom says this area was originally formed from blowing sand.”

  “I can’t even imagine what it must have been like back then,” she said.

  “These hills formed long before humans arrived.”

  “But were still soft when the Indians lived here?” Tess asked, an edge of doubt in her voice.

  As he stared at the markings, he removed the clip from his hair and ran his hand through his shoulder-length hair. “I’m just throwing out possibilities. Hopefully, we’ll find the tools they used to do this.” His mood sobered and he regathered his hair into the clip. “Another possibility is that this was built by a later era of Paleo-Indians, ones who traded with tribes possessing harder and sharper stones such as Knife River flint from North Dakota.”

  He patted his pants pocket. “Damn it, I left my phone at your house. May I borrow yours? I’d like to take a shot of this site.”

  She grimaced. “Sorry, I don’t carry my phone when I’m working. But your pack should have a camera. Check your left side, middle pocket.”

  He unzipped the pocket and pulled out a slender modern camera. He laughed. “Man, when Helen fits a person out, she does one hell of a job.”

  “Comes from years of experience. You’re probably carrying every single item she has ever needed while hiking these woods.”

  He rose. “Would you mind if we returned to the village so I can take some pictures?”

  “Not at all. I’m carrying lunch, so let me know when you get hungry and we’ll stop and eat. Otherwise, we’ve got a good five hours for you to wander about. I just have to get us back before dusk settles in.”

  He smiled. “What? No lights?”

  “We both have lights, but trust me. You won’t enjoy sleeping in a tree, and Grumpy hates campfires. He’ll come right into your camp and knock it to pieces.”

  “A true Smokey the Bear.”

  She laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that, but yeah, he is.”

  “I’m assuming since you know this, you’ve camped in these woods?”

  She sobered. “Once when I was building a bridge on the north side. Otherwise, I would have wasted six hours going to and from home. Grams warned me I wouldn’t like camping there, and she was right.”

  “Because of Grumpy.”

  She shrugged and headed down the trail.

  Clearly not. He wondered how long, if ever, it would take Tess to trust him.

  And could he risk her doing so? The only type of relationship he’d ever had with a woman was a physical one. No, this barrier between them was probably best. She was nice enough to work with but too aloof to pull him into trouble.

  ***

  Tess hurried down the trail, hoping Dr. Castile would forget his question once he was back to his amazing find. The speed in which he located a site that neither she nor Grams had known about impressed her. But he was an archeologist first and foremost, which he’d made perfectly clear when he warned her that the excavation would take priority over the trees on his site.

  Logically, she understood his point. They had two hundred thousand acres of trees, but if he was right about the site being a former village, it would be the first known settlement site of the Paleo-Indians. But God, she hoped he found a way to verify that without decimating the plateau.

  She had to admit his logic was good. If she’d been a Paleo-Indian, this is precisely where she would have made her home. When she reached the site, she looked for other reasons why Indian Tess would wish to live on this plateau.

  The view was breathtaking. Couldn’t be a sad Indian living here. She could imagine the Indian men sitting around a campfire, staring out at the river, discussing where they’d hunt deer in the morning.

  The women were probably in their… “Did they have tents or huts?” she asked.

  “During the warmer, drier months, I would expect they had huts,” he replied as he knelt and took pictures of weeds.

  She joined him. “What are we looking at?”

  “Goosefoot.”

  She sneezed at the sight of it. “And why does that annoying weed deserve photographic immortality?”

  Steel stood and gazed over the site with clear pleasure. “The Paleo-Indians ate its seeds long before corn showed up in their diet. I noticed a great deal of marsh-elder down below. Their presence here indicates we are perhaps looking at Indians from the Woodland era. The grains from both plants are edible and are believed to have been cultivated by the Woodland Paleo-Indians. He pointed to the giant white oak farther back on the plateau. “They would have collected and roasted the white oak acorns as well.”

  He was just an adorable package of facts. She smiled at him. “How does a Brit know so much about Iowa?”

  He scuffed his boot. “This is not the first job I’ve ever taken in the States. And when Tom floated the possibility of me being the Forest Manager, naturally I researched the history of the area. While I had no idea at the time if Paleo-Indians had lived in your woods, I thought it a possibility. So I told him I was interested.”

  “I’m glad you did. I’m enjoying learning new stuff, and I seriously doubt any of the other guys vying for the job would have told me anything.”

  The thumping of a helicopter sounded above, causing fear to etch across his face.

  “That’s just Sam coming to get the tree,” she yelled over the noise.
>
  He closed his eyes for a moment and then moved out of the clearing and farther into the woods toward a rising hill.

  She watched him run off, uncertain what to do. Should she leave him on his own and help Sam with the tree, or stay and ensure he’s okay?

  Certain Sam had brought help, she followed the path of disturbed leaves Steel had left. When she reached him, he was staring intensely at a slight indention in the hill.

  “A downed tree probably caused that,” she suggested, wondering why he was so fascinated with it.

  “Maybe,” he replied and donned his gloves. He then slowly removed many years of leaves. The hole was much larger, deeper, and more horizontal than a tree would make.

  “A tree didn’t do this. Maybe an animal has dug itself a nice home into the side of the hill,” Tess suggested.

  Steel grinned. “Two-legged kind, I’m thinking.”

  “Wouldn’t they make the door a little bigger?” she asked. “Unless they were really small.” She raised her hand two feet off the ground.

  He leaned back. “The most complete Paleo-Indian skeleton, the Kennewick Man, is about five feet, eight or nine inches. Unless he was an anomaly, they were tall and slender.” He shined a light into the hole.

  “Can you see anything?” she asked. If all those leaves had not hidden the opening, she would be terrified they had located Grumpy’s cave. The bear would not take kindly to visitors.

  He pulled back and let her look.

  She crept forward, pushing her head inside. “It’s deep…and larger than I thought.” When she pulled out, the radiant smile on his face made her grin, too.

  “Without a doubt, there was a village here.” He pointed to the trees on his left side. “Probably had summer huts among those white oaks. A garden over there.” He pointed to where the gooseberry grew. “Tribal circle where we found the rocks.” He then nodded to the hole. “The caves were for storage of food, protection for children if under attack, and shelter in the winter. There’s probably more than one cave, possibly some with slightly larger holes.”

  She nodded in agreement. “This would actually be good protection. A single woman with a spear could keep the children safe inside a cave with such a tiny entrance since an enemy warrior would have to crawl on his belly to get in.”

  “More than likely they’d toss a burning log inside or hack a wider entrance. However, to do either would mean the men of this tribe were dead.”

  Tess grimaced. “As you can see, I’d make a terrible archeologist.”

  He gripped her hand. “Why would you think that?”

  She didn’t understand why her comment seemed to upset him. “Because I was wrong about how matters would unfold. Honestly, I have no interest in wars and fighting, not historically or in modern times. If the news talks about fighting somewhere, I’ll tune it out.”

  Her answer only seemed to confuse him more. She tried to explain herself. “Sounds weird for someone whose family rejoices in the crap on a daily basis, but that’s precisely why I hate it. It never ends. It’s just one senseless death after another. It makes me sick, and it makes the people who participate monsters.”

  “Well, before you get any gloomier…” He tilted her face up and out to the river. She smiled at the beautiful view.

  “As to your responses, you did far better than any first year student I’ve ever had, so I was greatly impressed.” He stood and held out his hand. “Let’s continue up to the top and you can impress me more.”

  ***

  He admired Tess as she climbed the rising path. She looked a bit like an Indian princess ready for travel with her dark hair pulled into a single braid sliding like a clock pendulum on her backpack.

  As if they were mentally connected, she stopped so he could examine an area of the cliff wall with clear tool markings. He took pictures. “Any chance there’s a small ruler tucked in one of these pockets?”

  “Not that I know of, but, I’ll lend you my three-hundred-foot measuring tape.’ She patted the black handle of the yellow metal casing holding the massive circle of thin fiberglass tape.

  Where had she been hiding that monster?

  She pulled out about six inches of tape and pressed it against the stone. He took the picture, then took one of her.

  “I’m not keen about having my picture taken. They all seem to end up on Facebook with stupid ass titles like Iowa’s Mafia Princess.”

  “Well, I promise not to put it on the Internet and, believe me, you look more native Indian than mafia right now.”

  She smiled and slid the tape back into a deep side pocket of her backpack.

  “May I assume you and Helen carry different tools?”

  “We do. Grams can eye a tree and tell you its size, give or take an inch. I prefer to measure. It provides more accuracy and legitimacy to my notes.”

  “I agree. But that’s still an impressive talent to be within an inch,” he said.

  “It comes in handy, but if I’m building a bridge, I need to be a bit more accurate than that.”

  “What else differs?” he asked.

  “Well, since my camping fiasco, I carry bear spray. Grams has always carried a gun...but I don’t think it was on the hypothetical chance a bear might wander down from Minnesota.”

  “I read a book about your grandfather, Eddie Campinelli. Evidently, Helen had just left the house when a mafia assassin came to kill her husband.”

  ***

  Tess stopped and glared at him, mistrust swamping her prior good feelings. “You read it, or someone told you?” she challenged. God, what if her father had finagled one of his goons into the position of her boss? “Did my father hire you?”

  Steel tilted his head in response. “I read a book called The Last years of the Campinelli Crime Family on the plane over here. Why are you suddenly angry with me?”

  The bewilderment in his eyes and his explanation calmed her. Still, she needed to explain her burst of anger. “The author got a great deal wrong,” she grumbled.

  “Like what?”

  “Well, my grandfather was far worse than presented. According to Grams, he was a mentally deranged serial killer that held his power through terror. There was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do. He made the movie stuff like the horse head in the bed seem like child’s play.”

  “Why would Helen marry someone like that?”

  “She didn’t have a say. She was fourteen when she was married to the monster. He’d had four wives before her. They all kept drowning in his pool or falling into tree shredders. Grams was smart as hell and a great strategist. She did what she had to do to survive.” Back then, the Rigettis and Campinellis were joined at the hip until the day my grandfather used Don Rigetti’s only daughter as a shield to escape the feds.”

  She sighed and stared at the Mississippi River below.

  “You don’t have to talk about this if it upsets you.”

  “No, if you’re reading shit about my family, you should at least know the truth. The man who entered Grams’ house two days later had come to kill her, not Eddie.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that’s the way things are done. An eye for an eye. This man had lost his wife because of the monster, so he’d come to take Eddie’s wife in exchange.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “No, he wasn’t born into the family, so he still had some sense of morality. Grams was seven months pregnant. When he failed to shoot her right off, she told him her husband was in the shower and she’d be going for a walk. She left, and when she came back, the monster was finally dead.”

  “Wow!”

  His shock made her realize what she’d done, how she’d just betrayed her Grams. She rushed to him. “You can’t tell anyone that story. If my father or brothers were to hear it, they would kill Grams without hesitation. In their sick demented minds, the death of the monster was the downfall of the family.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I only wish it had been.”

  ***

  Pain an
d sorrow pulsed from Tess’s body. Pushing aside his better judgment, Steel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “I will take the story to my grave,” he whispered.

  As she pushed to escape his embrace, something he never recalled a woman doing before, he released her and focused on her face, trying to understand her. “Thank you for telling me.”

  She shook her head and closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t have. It was stupid to do. Call it a moment of weakness.”

  “Or a moment of trust?” he challenged. “You can trust me, you know.”

  She snorted and continued uphill at a pace just short of a jog.

  Before they reached the top, he was out of breath, but since she wasn’t, he tried his hardest to hide it.

  With the top of the hill in sight, he didn’t need a guide. He veered right to a large bump in the soil and took a picture. Tess walked on, either not noticing he’d stopped or wanting some privacy.

  He sighed. Tess wasn’t as perfect as he’d thought. She had a ton of baggage, which prevented her from trusting men. Not surprising, given the men she grew up with. Still, she shouldn’t be painting every man alive with the same brush. Unfortunately, her distrust would more than likely never change.

  Thankfully, she’d shown him this flaw in time. Nothing had happened yet. He could withdraw emotionally, treat her as a talented employee and nothing more, and she’d never know he’d once been headed in a different direction. One that he’d already promised Tom he wouldn’t go.

  He pulled the small shovel from his pocket and carefully removed a section of the top soil. What he really needed were brushes. He removed his pack and checked. Evidently, Helen had never needed to paint something.

  He recalled Tess talking about building a bridge. Maybe she carried brushes to stain the bridge.

  He grabbed his backpack and carried it in one hand as he continued on the trail. He found her on a pinnacle with two small six-foot mounds, one in the shape of a bear and the other as a bird.

  She sat between them, eating her lunch. Her pain made him ashamed of his prior thoughts. Tess didn’t need him to leave her alone, to write her off. She needed him to show her a man could be better than the other men she had known in her life.