She bristled. Second grade, in fact. I have thirty students most years.
Amazing, he murmured, studying her. They carry medical insurance, presumably?
She got to her feet. Too quickly. She tripped over the screen box and cannoned into a startled Nathanial Lang, tipping him headfirst into another amateur archaeologist. They collided in an almost balletic sequence, toppling down the small rise and into the small trickle of water in the creek.
Im sorry, Mr. Lang! Christy wailed.
He and the other man got to their feet as she made her way carefully down the small incline, her hand against her mouth.
Nathanial Langs once-immaculate pale blue pinstriped shirt was muddy now, along with the deep blue sports coat hed worn with it. There was a long trail of mud down one sharply creased trouser leg, and a smear on his creamy Stetson. He stared down at Christy with eyes that she couldnt meet.
Things were so quiet around here before you came, Miss Haley, he said through his teeth. And this is only your second day, isnt it?
Christy swallowed down her fear. He was tall and very intimidating, not at all the hero type shed been hoping to meet. Im doing my best, Mr. Lang.
Obviously, he said without inflection.
She reached out to brush off a few spots of dust on his jacket, but he caught her wrist. His touch, even firm and irritable, was exciting.
Gosh, Mr. Lang, Im sorry about that, George,
the young student archaeologist, apologized. George had gone down the hill with the older man.
Not your fault, Nathanial said curtly.
Not Christys, either, George defended her bravely. He was tall, thin, blond and wore glasses. He was studious and shy and had a habit of going scarlet when he was embarrassedlike now. He managed a smile for Christy and plodded back to his table, where he was sorting and matching pottery shards.
A fan of yours, I gather, Nathanial remarked as he brushed angrily at his Stetson while his slate-gray eyes pinned Christy.
A friend, she corrected. She shifted. He made her nervous.
What are you doing out here? he asked unexpectedly.
Glad for an opportunity to really talk about her work, she said, Im searching for pieces of Hohokam pottery. Weve mapped this area and were doing a pottery search.
I know that, he said with forced patience. What are you doing in Arizona?
I had a vacation and I like ruins.
Theres Rome, he pointed out. They have lots of ruins over there.
Theyve all been dug up, she replied. I wanted to go someplace where everything hasnt already been discovered.
You might try the North Pole. He frowned. On second thought, dont do it. Theres a theory about the calamity that would strike if it melted. With your background, who knows? You might trip over some forgotten thermonuclear device and blow it up.
She glared at him. Anger gave her delicate features added beauty and color, and her green eyes blazed up. I cant help having the occasional accident! she said angrily, wishing she could see him better. He was very tall and his face seemed far away.
He put his spotted Stetson back on his head and cocked it at an angle across his brow. Ill bet your insurance company has prayer every morning.
I dont have an insurance company, she managed under her breath.
Why doesnt that surprise me? He tipped his hat and started to walk away.
Im really sorry about your hat and all, she called after him.
Lucky for me that it was a little creek instead of an old mine. He stopped and turned, his expression very serious. That reminds me, there are a few old mines around here, so for Gods sake stick to well-traveled areas. If you go down a shaft, you could disappear forever.
She sighed. Okay. Ill stay where Im told.
Youd better, he said firmly and kept walking.
The thought of a mine shaft opening under her kept Christy nervous for the rest of the day. So far all theyd found had been little bits and pieces of pottery, mostly gray. But the fact that it was over a thousand years old made her giddy. Imagine holding something in her hand that a Hohokam potter had held in his or hers that many centuries ago! She held one shard up to her nose and drank in its earthy, dark scent with her eyes closed.
They were a very special race, the Hohokam. Theyd had irrigation and a unique form of peaceful government here in southeastern Arizona about the same time people were hitting each other over the head with battle-axes in Europe. They had a religion which united and uplifted them, a society which was equal for rich and poor alike. They were a poetic people, with a reverent attitude toward the land and each other. From this ancient people, it was said, the Pima and the Papago (Tohono Oodham) tribes evolved.
Exciting, isnt it? George asked, squatting down beside her as she laid the shard back down. Ive read everything I could find about the Hohokam. What a pity that their way of life had to vanish.
At least there are offshoots of itthe Pima and the Papago, she reminded him. The Anasazi left no trace of themselves as far as we know.
He sighed. Ive dreamed all my life of coming here, he remarked, his eyes lifting to the surrounding sharp, lifeless mountains and the blue sky. Isnt it clean? Like it might have been a thousand years ago.