by Karen Harper
“I plan to stop to get that Adena tree trunk from Nadine today. I’ll call her first,” she said.
“I can go with you this evening. It’s too heavy for you—both of you.”
“Then I’ll just pay her for it, and you and I can stop for it later. I’m sure she could use some extra money right now. I’ve been wanting to visit her.”
“Great. Sure.”
She didn’t tell him that she was also going to drop in at Todd and Amber’s house to chat with Jason—after she dug up Brad’s box under the stones in the woods.
23
Grant slammed his office door and swore when he spilled hot coffee on his wrist. He hated being in such a foul mood, but he was furious with Brad...with Kate...with himself. He was angry at Kate, but he also wanted to grab and kiss her, and that might be dangerous. He had to either keep her close or get her out of his life.
As soon as Gabe and Tess returned from France this weekend, would Kate leave town? He wanted her to stay away from the mound, but he wanted to keep her in his life, and that looked impossible. And then Brad—
His brother knocked on the door and stuck his head in the office, as if summoned by Grant’s thoughts. “Keith said you wanted to see me. A production problem this early—or more dire warnings about me and Lacey?”
“I don’t care about that, other than, like I said on the phone, you’d better tell her parents and not think you can hide out from them. Her dad’s good with a shotgun and—”
“And her mother still likes you, not me. Look, we’ve got a load of oak coming in soon, and I should be on the cutting floor.”
“Close the door and sit down.”
“Wow, this is big. What?” he asked, perching on a chair across from Grant’s big desk.
“You told Kate you had a dog—Max, I think it was—a collie, no less, that you buried in the woods. What are you, a fiction writer?”
Brad glared at him. One leg bounced, so Grant knew he was nervous. “Okay, when I was walking in the woods one day, I think she spied on me. I made up that story on the spot to get her off my back. I’m quite sure you like her on your back in more ways than—”
“Cut the cuteness. That pile of stones, even if off the beaten path, is not exactly subtle. Someone else could find it—I did.”
Brad shot straight up out of his chair then leaned toward Grant, stiff-armed with his fists on the desk. “Only because Miss Adena Archaeology told you, I bet. Did you dig it up? Oh, yeah, I know it’s your woods. Well, did you? We took vows we’d never so much as ask where each of us hid our stuff.”
Throwing himself back in his chair, arms crossed, Brad looked as if he was ready to have a tantrum. His face was red; a vein throbbed on the side of his neck. Wanting to face him down, Grant came around the desk and sat on it so he almost hovered over him.
“Keep your voice down,” Grant said. “Yeah, I dug it up, but so what since you—or someone else—had obviously moved it somewhere else. You didn’t sell it, did you? Even so much as mention it to someone—like Lacey?”
“Are you nuts? You think I’d be back here if I sold it? I’d be bailing out my mill instead of working at yours if I got big bids for that! And I’d be nuts to try to sell it anonymously on eBay or anywhere word would get out!”
“How about somewhere it wouldn’t get out? Someone who wants it for a private collection or museum? Since it’s not out in the woods with your imaginary dog, just assure me it’s someplace safe and you aren’t asking anyone for advice about where to sell it on the black market. What if Paul did that, and look what happened?”
“Yes. Yes, it’s someplace safe. Have you located Paul’s? Do you know where Todd’s is? If someone’s found out about our stuff, it’s not from me.”
“As you said, we’re not to tell each other where we keep them. I just want to be sure yours is safe, since it was missing from the box. And why didn’t you take the box with it, since you went to so much trouble to have a silk-lined nest made for it just in the shape of the large arrowhead?”
“Which I’ve come to realize is actually a spear point.”
Another smooth subject shift, Grant thought, and not a good sign. He’d also avoided the question of whether he’d told Lacey. Surely she hadn’t seduced the artifact out of him to support her Green Tree passions. “Maybe not a spear point,” Grant told him. “Kate says that artifacts destined for Adena tombs were often oversize, and Adena spear points are long with leaf-shaped points and a rounded stem, and yours wasn’t, so it probably is—was—an arrowhead.”
“My, my, but you and the professor have been having intimate talks. Look, if you’re still so damned worried about keeping her and her archaeo-maniacs out of the mound, get rid of her. I mean, send her away, get her off your property and out of your life. I don’t think you can have it both ways. Besides, maybe she lusts after the mound and not you!” He paused for a moment. “The fact you’re not punching me or throwing me out tells me you’ve thought of that.”
“I’m not an idiot, Brad.”
“Okay, how about this approach if you don’t want to burn bridges with her? Tell her you got in the mound alone when you were a kid and took that deer-head mask. Tell her if she helps you put it back—no questions asked, no one informed—that you’ll let her excavate the place, but don’t mention the rest of us who have things—or, in Paul’s case, had. We don’t need big fines, bad publicity or prison time.”
Grant’s insides knotted. That would make Kate a liar, but would she go for it? That was a solution he’d thought of. Only he’d considered asking Brad and Todd to let him put their relics back in the death chamber, too—and if only he could locate Paul’s. Not that he believed taking the Adena artifacts caused a curse, but to lose Paul and then have Tarzan Todd fall was such an eerie coincidence.
Brad’s voice sliced through his agonizing. “That is, if you want to keep Kate here.” He got up and edged toward the door.
“The woman’s been all over Europe,” Grant said, standing and turning. “Her idea of a vacation is going to see her younger sister out West and excavating ancient Anasazi garbage dumps while she’s there. It would be Lacey all over again, wanting to get out of Cold Creek, unhappy living here.”
Brad put his hand on the doorknob then froze. “Maybe not. Kate’s a whole lot smarter than Lacey, and the fact she’s been all over might mean she knows what she wants, is willing to settle down.” He gave a wry little smile. “Here’s an idea. Marry her and she won’t be able to testify against you—just kidding. Take care of yourself. I don’t like the pattern of two of our old buddies going down. I’m watching my back and you’d better watch yours.”
Strange, Grant thought, but his tone had sounded like a threat, a direct warning at the very least. Suddenly, he was desperate to move on, to change the subject.
“Oh, one more thing—not important compared to Kate,” Grant said. “I was on the phone last night with the owner of a lumber mill outside Madison, Wisconsin, that received a huge amount of bird’s-eye maple last week.”
Brad’s eyes widened as he turned back. He looked as upset as Grant felt, almost as if he’d been caught at something. “Our tree?”
“I think so. He’s sending me a couple of wood samples, so keep an eye out for it. And one of the pieces has nails in it. I think that might be where our tree house crashed off when the tree hit the ground.”
“Yeah, I’ll watch for that, and we can check the nails. Let me know if he can trace the source. You do realize you just said that the stolen tree was not important compared to Kate, don’t you?” he asked as he went out and closed the door.
For the first time since Brad had been home, Grant appreciated his advice and yet there had been a sense of menace to it. But Kate seemed to always operate on the up-and-up, so would she ever go along with entering the mound to put an item back for one man before—or
instead of—taking them out for all mankind, as she liked to say? More likely she’d never forgive him for lying to her, misleading her this long. And, mound or not out her back door, would Kate ever be content living in Cold Creek, living with him?
* * *
After phoning Amber’s mother to be sure she could drop by later, Kate got a small spade out of her car trunk, took a pen and paper and hightailed it straight for the place Brad had buried his dog. She marched past the mound—after taking a good stop-and-stare at it—and past the mica seam, since she’d told Grant she’d steer clear of both sites, at least until Saturday, when her dig team would come back. But he hadn’t told her not to get near this pile of stones. And he didn’t know she’d seen him dig here.
Looking all around, trying to buck herself up that no intruders would be in the forest this early, she did the same thing Grant had done last night. A quick sketch of the stones in case Brad, now Grant, too, knew how they were piled. An easy dig to that wooden box she’d seen Grant unearth.
The box was fine wood with a nice grain, but marred by soil and scratch marks. Fully expecting to find a dog collar or some memento of Brad’s dog in it—but why would that have upset Grant when he saw it?—she fumbled with the corroded metal latch and opened it.
And gasped.
The box was empty. The inside was beautiful with gathered blue-gray silk, formed in a perfect shape for something that was no longer here. Something that had left mica dust and had lain here that was perfectly fitted to this form. A large—overly large—leaf-shaped arrowhead.
* * *
Still trembling with anger after reburying the box and replacing the stones, Kate rushed back to the house, washed her hands and went out to her car. She threw her tools in the trunk atop the others she’d brought along, hoping there would be some Adena dig she could work on in the area. The morning sun had heated the car’s interior. She didn’t mind, sitting there, feeling inwardly chilled on the warm June morning. She didn’t start the motor, but her mind raced.
She would guess that Brad—maybe with Grant—had found the mica arrowhead in the same area where her team had found the shape of the ax head yesterday. He—or they—might have taken that arrowhead, and Brad had buried it above where he’d interred his pet dog. But had they found the ax head or other artifacts that came from the mica seam? Had Todd been involved, too, maybe had taken the ax head, then told his eldest son, Jason, about that or even showed it to him? These relics needed to be traced and studied, not buried or shown privately.
“You can’t keep treasures—and the truth—buried.” She repeated one of Carson’s classroom mantras aloud.
She started the car and headed toward Todd and Amber’s house.
* * *
Kate was in a hurry, but she accepted a cup of coffee from Amber’s mother and was filled in on Todd’s progress. “Slow, but after all the tests, they know what they need to do,” she told Kate. “Ruptured spleen, but at least he can live without that. The doctor is operating on that today. Oh, by the way, we wanted to thank you again for getting that apartment where Amber could stay free at night with your friend in Columbus. We are so very grateful to you, and it’s good to see Grant have a chance at real happiness again.”
So much for her plan to talk to Todd about the ax head later today, Kate thought, but she was deeply touched by feeling appreciated here, at least by some people. As for Grant being happy—she wasn’t so sure about that. But she realized she would love to make him happy. As much as he frustrated her, she would love to love him.
As soon as she could, Kate went out to the backyard, where the McCollum kids were playing while their grandfather kept an eye on them. She chatted with him briefly and was touched to see how the kids stopped their running around long enough to greet her. She finally managed to corral Jason alone over by the picnic table.
“So, I was thinking about that interesting drawing you did for your dad,” she told Jason as they sat close together on the bench.
“Mom said he liked it okay.”
“I’ll bet he did. But I was wondering why you drew an ax head and blood, since when your dad fell, I didn’t see an ax or blood.”
“No, that was the other time. I wanted him to know I felt bad when I got hurt, too—like, I understand he’s hurt bad.”
“Oh, you fell, too? When you and Dad were chopping down a tree?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t fall. In the attic I found the ax and it was really cool, but I was playing with it and cut myself bad.”
“Oh, I see. I’m sorry about that. Did the ax have a handle on it?”
“No—just the top part, a kind of shiny black stone, and pretty sharp. I needed eleven stitches,” he said, thrusting out his arm to her where she could see the pale red marks. “I didn’t know it was hid in the attic. Mom was pretty upset, but Dad said he’d put it somewhere else. He found it when he was little, playing with Uncle Grant. Miss Kate, is my dad gonna be all right? I get mad at him sometimes, but I love him, and if he died I’d be really sad I didn’t tell him that more.”
Grant knows about the Adena arrowhead and ax head! And what else? Fighting to keep calm, she put her hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “It may take a while, and he’ll need your help, but I’m sure he’ll get lots better.”
She was right that Grant, Brad and Todd—maybe Paul—had found some Adena artifacts near the mica seam and hidden them. Yet her thoughts flew to her own father. I get mad at him sometimes, but I love him, and if he died I’d be really sad I didn’t tell him that more.
As Jason went back to play with his brothers, she recalled how she, Tess and Char used to play in back of their house. She remembered her mother calling them in, saying that Dad would be late or wouldn’t be home tonight. And, as angry as she was—she knew she had to stop hating her father.
24
Instead of heading home—that was, to Grant’s—Kate drove straight to Columbus.
She tried to keep her mind on her driving, but she kept rehearsing tirades to Carson and Grant. Right now, everything annoyed her—the Columbus traffic, the fact she didn’t have a faculty parking pass and had a long walk across campus, how big and old the Smith Laboratory anthropology building was and how their department had to share it with swarms of students taking physics, math, astronomy, public health and even film studies. Yet she really missed teaching here.
Most of all, she was upset about having to face Carson. She was no closer to permission for excavating Mason Mound, and he was still trying to force her to do so anyway. He was bombarding her with news about smashed skulls in Italy, setting up his grad assistants to push his new Toltec/Adena theory, which would ruin years of her work because his articles and speeches would have more clout than hers if she fought him on it. And she was ready to do just that. But she still didn’t have the missing link of an artifact that the European Celts had in common with the Adena.
She knocked on the old oak door of Carson’s office. “Enter!” he called out. She opened the door and went in; at least he was alone. How many hours had she spent in here, soaking in every word, entranced, challenged? The first time he’d kissed her, she’d been backed up against the wall, fondled and propositioned, and, like a fool, she’d thought it was wonderful.
He finally looked up from his laptop computer—then quickly shut it.
“Kate! What a surprise! You should have called, darling. Come in. Close—and lock—the door.”
“This is business, Carson,” she said, simply closing the door and pulling out the chair next to his cluttered desk and sitting to face him. He had the copy of the Beastmaster mask Kaitlyn had made hanging over the desk. It was mounted in a sort of glassed shadowbox, glaring down at them, the symbol, she thought, for all her failures.
“Let me guess,” he said. “Grant was so impressed with your mica dig that he’s agreed to let
you excavate the mound, and you wanted to tell me in person so we can lay plans.”
She dropped her big purse on the floor as a barrier at his feet where he’d wheeled his swivel desk chair closer to her.
“How about this?” she countered. “I’m totally unimpressed and appalled with your new Toltec theory, which you hadn’t told me you were promoting in classes and who knows where else. And I’m here to tell you I’m still not ready to excavate Mason Mound.”
“Ready or able? Kate, you’ve got to either get into that mound now or get out of Cold Creek! Once your sister and the sheriff return this weekend, I don’t suppose you’ll be sticking around. Back to Celtic digs in England?”
“Did I tell you they are back this weekend?”
“I think Kaitlyn mentioned it. That you wanted to continue the mica-seam work with her help even though they’d be home Saturday.”
“She reminds me of myself.”
He rocked back in his chair, planted his elbows on its arms and steepled his fingers before his face. His forehead had furrowed the minute she’d come in and refused to lock the door. She’d never bucked him like this—on anything. It was time to stand up to him.
“I knew she would,” he said. “She’s the best of you—bright, eager, willing...”
“I’ll bet.”
“That’s unworthy of you. But I can understand how you’d be upset with yourself for having the opportunity to make the find of your career and have it fizzle out over female emotion, because you’ve fallen for Grant Mason.”
She surprised herself that she had no desire to deny that. “I have made some finds, established some facts.”
“Facts? Haven’t I taught you anything? So-called facts—and artifacts—are elusive, subject to interpretation—to theorizing. Facts do not speak for themselves, and you’ll need help on that. But I heard about the silhouette of the ax head Kaitlyn spotted. What else?”
