"The ranch is in Oregon in the foothills between Portland and the coast," Marc said, wanting to get off the subject of loincloths. And long-fingered, big-busted goddesses. And Kit's cleavage with its sheen of sweat. And the image of a jungle shower and a spray of water splitting to curve around her breasts and coming together about her navel and collecting in the reddish gold hair between her thighs before running in rivulets down her long slender legs.
"So back to the Indian mound on your family's ranch," Kit said. "I'd really like to do a couple of exploratory excavations to see what's there."
"It's not a mound," Marc replied, "that's just the ranch buzz word. It's a midden sitting on a natural rise where it's high and dry. I figure it's the site of a winter village."
"Then you must have done some digging around. What all's there?" Kit asked.
"Not much. A few shards, some animal bones, a little debitage, the usual," Marc replied.
"You must have found artifacts too."
Marc nodded. "Mostly flaking debris from making tools."
"Horses?" Kit asked.
"Not around there. The Indians were on foot."
"I'm talking about at the ranch," Kit said. "I'm still stuck on the cowboy thing. Did you ride horses? I assume it's a working ranch."
"Guest and working ranch," Marc replied. "And yeah, I rode horses from about the time I learned to walk. My dad took my brothers and me into the mountains to teach us survival skills. Sometimes we'd be gone several days, one time in the dead of winter. We learned how to make snow shelters and grub around for food, and when we got back my mom would have a big meal waiting, like she knew exactly when we'd be back, and it was always better than what we'd had on the trail. But it was okay being in the mountains like that, I suppose it's why I like field work. And I wouldn't mind sitting in the hot springs and listening to the sounds in the mountain."
"What are you talking about?" Kit asked.
"Whispering Springs," Marc replied. He hadn't thought about it in a while. It seemed strange that it came to him now. Maybe because it was warm and muggy.
"So Whispering Springs is a hot springs on your folk’s ranch?" Kit asked.
Marc nodded. "It’s in a cavern a few hundred feet from the Indian mound. Legend is, the Indians went there to get rid of evil spirits. It's odd though. When you sit in the pool and listen, sounds seem to come from out of the mountain, eerie sounds like women wailing. Then the sounds change and gradually fade away. But things are different after."
"Different how?" Kit asked.
Marc shrugged. "Just different. Things are always better. Happy." He smiled, remembering.
"You know what, Hansen?" Kit said. "I think it's time to go home."
CHAPTER 4
Dancing Moon Ranch; Two weeks later
Marc pulled his truck to a halt along the side of the gravel road leading to the ranch and glanced in the rearview mirror to see Kit pull her pickup to a halt behind him. She climbed out and met him halfway. Standing in the road facing him, she said, "Why are we stopping?"
Marc propped his hands on his hips, and eyeing the road ahead, and the cluster of buildings in the distance, replied, "I want to arrive in one truck. It'll be easier to leave if I don’t like the way things are going."
"I still can't believe you never contacted your parents," Kit said. "Showing up unannounced after over four years isn't the way to mend bridges."
"I didn't come to mend bridges," Marc said, "I'm here so you can move a pile of dirt." He glanced up the road again. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this. I could be in Texas reminding the muon group that I'm their best bet, or applying for grants, or sending out dozens of applications instead of being at a place where I'm about as welcome as a wart."
"Don't flatter yourself," Kit said. "Warts keep coming back. But while we're on the subject of being welcome, you might shove that giant chip on your shoulder into the ground for the initial greeting. It could make your parents a little less pissed at you, at least your father. I imagine your mother will be all over you, which might piss your father off more, actually."
"You got that right on both counts," Marc said. "My mother fussed over me as far back as I can remember, trying to make sure I knew I was one of them, even though I wasn't, and my father was pissed with me because I didn't want to get my balls flattened by bouncing up and down on bulls and broncs."
"It couldn't have caused too much damage," Kit said. "Your father sired a whole pack of kids. Besides, most cowboys look pretty virile, so maybe riding bulls and broncs toughens balls."
Marc eyed Kit dubiously. "Do you have a thing for cowboys?" he asked. It would be a whole different side of Kit than what he'd known.
"I could have," Kit replied. "The idea of a man with tough balls is somewhat intriguing. Wally babied his because there wasn't much there."
Marc looked askance at her. "I could ask how a man did that, but I don't think I want to know."
"I'll tell you anyway," Kit said. "Male enhancement massage creams."
"And you got to apply them," Marc said.
"Are you kidding? Wally had another hang-up. He kept that part of him covered because he was sensitive, even though I told him it didn't matter."
"Yeah, well I can think of better ways to toughen my balls than bull riding," Marc said, "but I'll go for the massage cream if you'll apply it."
"I won't, so we might as well get on with why we're here," Kit said. "Besides, you're rambling again, which means if we don't get going I'll be forced to listen to a statistical analysis about pollination methods, or a dissertation on analyzing strontium isotope ratios in the tooth enamel of a Diplodocus, or something equally as engrossing."
"Or we could leave the trucks here and hike to the mound and you could check it out and see if it's what you want, and if it isn't, we could leave and no one would know."
Kit looked at him, long and hard, and said, "And if you stay away another four years, Maddy will have graduated from high school and you will have missed another important phase in her life. Is that what you want?"
Marc couldn't help visualizing Maddy the last time he saw her, clinging to their mother and crying and wondering why he was angry and throwing things into the back of his truck, and why no one could stop him before he drove away, out of her life. She was probably still wondering.
Glancing up the road one last time, he said, "Okay, Korban, let's get it over with."
He got in the truck, and Kit climbed into the passenger seat, and minutes later, Marc pulled to a halt in front of the log house where he'd grown up. For a couple of minutes he remained in the truck, staring at the place. Just before Tyler was born, their dad extended the house, adding two more bedrooms so he could separate the elder set of twins, who seemed determined to beat the crap out of each other any chance they got. And since Adam was bigger, their mother always came to her little darling's rescue, when Marc would rather have had the chance to show Adam that whereas he might have the advantage in height, his smaller twin was sturdier and more agile. He still wondered if he could take Adam, though he knew he'd never find out.
"Come on," Kit said. "The place looks quiet, like no one's home. Maybe you can slip inside and be reading a magazine when they get back from wherever they are, and they'll think you never left and that it was all a dream." Opening the truck door she got out and started toward the house, then paused and looked back and waited for Marc to catch up. "You'll do fine," she said, as he walked toward her. Taking him by the arm, their first physical contact since the kiss at the excavation site, she nudged him up the porch steps, and before he could verbalize any of the excuses tumbling around in his head, she knocked.
When no one answered, Marc said, "They're not here. We might as well walk over to the Indian mound and check it out."
"I suppose," Kit replied.
They were just starting down the steps when the front door opened. Turning, Marc saw his mother standing in the doorway. Her face showed curiosity, then awareness, then total disb
elief. "Oh, my God! Marc!" She rushed out the door and threw herself into his arms, and said, "Oh, honey. You've been gone so long." She released him just enough to take him by both hands and back up some so she could look at him. "You look wonderful... and... oh, well, your hair is long, but that's okay. It doesn't matter. You're here."
It was then that she looked beyond Marc and spotted Kit. Releasing Marc's hands, she said, in a tentative voice, "Oh, hello."
Marc took Kit by the elbow, and said, "Mom, this is Kit Korban, my assistant."
"Technically you're my assistant this time," Kit replied. She looked at Marc’s mother, and added, "Actually we're a team, of sorts."
"Well, yes, I understand," Grace Hansen said, even though Marc knew she didn't at all, which she affirmed, when she said, "Honey we're so glad you're here, and your room is just like you left it, but with Maddy here, well, we still have rules about couples staying together. Maybe we could put Kit with Sam and Jayne, in Becca's bedroom."
"We'll be setting up two tents near the Indian mound," Marc replied.
Grace looked relieved. "Yes, that's probably best. I'm glad you understand. Maddy's fourteen now, and you'll be surprised when you see her. You boys all matured early, and Maddy seems to have the same Hansen genes." She paused, and the long silence that followed brought it all back home. He was the only one among them who didn't have the Hansen genes, and the only reason he matured early was because of his Templeton genes.
"In any event," his mother went on, "Maddy's tall, and she's filling out, and you'll barely recognize her since you've been gone so long..." Another pause.
So long, your little sister grew up and you weren't even around to care...
"And Dad?" Marc asked. "Where's he?"
"With the boys," Grace replied. "Ryan, Jeremy and Josh are in bull riding competitions, and Tyler's showing his horses. He has a Roman riding act. Dad plans to leave the rodeo early though, so he should be here in a little while."
Marc felt like asking if there was anything in their lives besides rodeos and rounding up cattle, but reined in that thought. "What about Maddy? Is she here?"
Grace shook her head. "She'll be back in a couple of days. She's staying with her best friend's family at their coast house. And Adam and Emily will be back in a little while," she added. "They took Jesse to get a new pair of boots. Jesse's three, looks just like Adam did at that age, and is tall and growing like a weed."
Marc felt a stab of jealousy, though he wasn't sure why, other than whatever Adam wanted Adam always got, and Adam wanted Emily from the start, and now she'd given him a son to carry on his name, one who looked like a real Hansen. "Where do they live?" he asked.
"Right now, in one of the guest cabins," Grace replied. "Adam's building a log house for Emily and since he's doing all the log work himself, it's taken a while. He's also building a big fireplace from stones gathered on the ranch. The boys are helping oil the log walls and finish the interior, so it's our summer project, like Sophie and Rick's house was last summer's project. Sophie and Rick's house was finished just in time. They have a house full now."
"Then they must have a few kids," Marc said, wondering why that bothered him too.
"Yes, triplets," Grace replied. "Rick's sperm count is low because of the chemo before his cord blood transplant, so the babies were conceived in vitro with Rick's sperm, and all three embryos took. Sophie's expecting again, and the babies are due in three months. Twins this time. It's a busy household, but those two lovebirds couldn't be happier."
That figures, Marc thought, and tried not to let it bother him. "And Grandma?" he asked. "She's in good health?" It came to him that his grandmother, or any one of the family, could have died while he was gone and he wouldn't have known until now.
"She's getting on in years," his mother said, driving the point home, "but she's doing fine. She's visiting Uncle Greg right now but she'll be happy you're back. Oh, honey," she said. "I'm so glad you've come home."
She glanced at Kit, and again smiled, like whatever she was about to say would be okay, even if it wouldn't be, and said, "The tents will be fine for the summer, but you'll have to find a place when the weather turns cold, and it would be best if it was a little ways from here, where Maddy wouldn't know what was going on and—"
"Mom," Marc cut in, "Kit and I aren't sleeping together."
"Honey, I understand and it's okay," Grace said. "You're here, and that's what's important. And Dad will understand too. Why don't the two of you set up your tents and come back to the house for dinner. Everyone will be back from the rodeo by then. There are also several Porta Potties around, one in the vineyards near the Indian mound. Sam had them brought in for the workers so you can use those, and you can come to the house for bathing."
"The hot springs will be fine," Marc said.
Grace eyed him like she knew exactly why they wanted to bathe there, and said, "Then you should go late at night or early in the morning before the guests are up and about." She smiled at Kit as if trying to be gracious, when Marc knew she was putting on an act. He'd grown up hearing his dad's lecture about respecting the sanctity of a woman's body, which meant, no sex before marriage, which his brothers interpreted as—if they couldn't keep it in their pants, don't whip it out until they were a respectable distance from the house. Staying in two tents near the Indian mound was pushing the limits.
Grace opened her arms to him again. "Honey, come here. I'm just so happy you're home." As she said the words, tears filled her eyes. And Marc felt like shit.
Holding his mother, he said, "I guess I was gone longer than I expected. We'll set up the tents and see everyone at dinner."
Grace ran her hand over his hair, and when it came to the ponytail she let out a little grunt, like she'd forgotten it, then smiled, and said, "They'll all be so happy to see you again."
But maybe you could get rid of the ponytail before your father comes home...
A temptation, Marc thought, but at this point in his life he was determined to be his own man, and if Jack Hansen couldn't accept him the way he was, then so be it.
"Come on," he said to Kit. "We'd better get the tents set up. Are you still game for this?" He was referring to the exploratory excavation project, which wouldn't take more than a couple of weeks and was sounding even less appealing to him than before.
"This is great here," Kit said. "It's cool and I won't have to strip down to nothing at night and lay spread eagle just to be able to sleep."
Marc didn't need that image right then. He also realized he hadn't said anything to his mother about being an archaeologist, and by now she'd be assuming he was asking Kit if she was up to sleeping in separate tents.
Eyeing his mother, he said, by way of an explanation, "Kit and I are archaeologists. The last dig we were on was in Central America where it's humid and sweltering at night, and Kit's been wanting a cushier site where she can sleep on a big air mattress that's not covered in mildew after two days." He realized what he'd said still came across as them being a couple. The word big, as in double wide mattress, cinched it.
Grace looked from one to the other in a way that told them she understood but would let it pass, and said, "Then you obviously finished college. I was afraid you wouldn't."
Marc nodded. "University of Texas. I have my masters and I'm working on my PhD. Same with Kit. We just finished uncovering the ruins of a Mayan house in Belize. We'll tell you about it at dinner." At least it would give them something to talk about when the others came home.
And then he remembered they'd all be returning from the rodeo and anything he might have to say would be overshadowed by that.
"Then, you're not here to stay?" Grace asked.
"Actually, Kit and I are here to look over the prospect of excavating the Indian mound," he replied, testing the waters. "Kit's looking for a site to oversee, and when I told her about the mound she wanted to check it out and maybe do a test dig that would enable her to get grant money for completing her PhD."
; Grace looked at him in alarm. "Honey, you know how your father feels about digging there. If it turns out to be a burial site it could impact the ranch, maybe even shut down the whole area out there, including the vineyards bordering it, the hot springs and the horse trail leading up the mountain. The brother of one of our friends discovered a burial site on his ranch and there were so many restrictions the man and his wife decided to sell."
"Then maybe Kit and I should move on," Marc said.
"No, please don't," Grace replied. "We'll work something out with your father, but maybe you shouldn't say much about what you're doing at first and let him get used to the idea."
"Sure, Mom. Like Dad's going to tell me a week from now, when Kit and I start laying out a grid, that he has no problem with his adoptive son coming back and digging up the place," Marc said, with irony. "Of course, if I could convince Adam to help dig, it would be okay."
"That's just not so," Grace said.
"Umm, yeah, Mom, it is." Taking Kit by the arm, he turned her around and guided her down the porch steps to the truck, but before getting in, he looked at his mom, who was standing on the porch, and he saw the concern on her face. She also looked older than the four years he'd been gone, with worry lines around her mouth and on her brow, and her hair was dusted in gray. And she was thin. She'd always carried a few extra pounds with each baby, and frequently complained about needing to lose some, but their dad convinced her she was just the way he liked. But she had definitely lost weight. For some reason, he hadn't thought his being away mattered, with six siblings to fill in the gap. She also looked very sad.
Drawing in a long breath, he returned to the porch, and said, "It's good to see you again, Mom, and maybe we'll wait a few days before starting on the dig." This time he opened his arms and gave her a hug and kissed her on the cheek, and she wrapped her arms around him and held him for the longest time, but when she finally released him, her eyes were filled with tears again.
Bittersweet Return (Dancing Moon Ranch Book 6) Page 5
