Heart Of Gold (19 page)

The next
day, Carter's trowel was steady as she carefully removed a wedge of earth.
After she put it aside, she reached down and gently brushed off some loose
dirt, exposing the graceful, pale arc of the skeleton's jawbone. She saw that
the teeth were still anchored in their cavities, the bottom row uneven in the
front.

“Cort,
hold the chin here so it doesn't fall as I excavate the rest.”

The kid
put his hand where she told him to.

Working
efficiently, she freed the bone until it was lying in Cort's hand. “Okay,
you can remove it now.”

Cort sat
back, cradling the jawbone. His eyes were wide and he was barely breathing.

Ellie
leaned over his shoulder. “Can I feel it?”

“Gently,”
Carter said, touched by their reverence. “Don't dislodge any of the
teeth.”

Ellie ran
a finger over the joint. “I wonder what he looked like.”

Carter
pulled the baseball cap she was wearing down more tightly. In spite of the fact
that the sun was beating down on her back, and she was in a cramped, unnatural
position, she didn't feel any discomfort. Her focus on her work was enough to
distract her from her aches and pains.

Although
it didn't take her mind off Nick. She'd been waiting for him to come up all
morning, with an edge of impatience that made her uncomfortable.

“So
what do you think?” Ellie prompted. “What was he like?”

Carter
looked at the bone.

“We'll
know more when we see the rest of the skull but, as I presumed, he was young,
probably eighteen or so. You can tell by the amount of wear and tear on the
molars in the back. In an older person, they'd be smoother. Also, if you look
at the teeth in the front, some still have the serrated edges that helped the
permanent teeth break through. Maybe he was closer to sixteen.” She
pointed over to a box. “Put the jaw inside there. We can reassemble him
when it's time for the pictures.”

It took
her a half hour to uncover the skeleton's head in its entirety. When it was
completely revealed, the whole group let out a collective gasp. There was a
large, gaping hole in the cranium.

“And
I thought the knife wound was bad,” Carter murmured.

“What
happened?” Cort asked incredulously.

“This
man was struck on the head. From what I can see here,” she pointed to the
wound, “I'd say it was done with a machete because the bone has broken
away with clean edges. You need something sharp to get that effect.”

“It
must have been the Indian,” Cort whispered.

Carter
glanced to the sky, which was clouding up. “Let's get some pictures taken.
I'd like to get him free from the ground before it rains.”

While
Cort took pictures, she got out a measuring tape and recorded the skeleton's
various dimensions and the depth at which it was found. With the find fully
documented, she began to remove the bones one by one and put them in a
container that could be locked. She figured the skeleton would be safe there
until she could get him over to her lab in Burlington. She'd just started on
the rib cage when Buddy, who'd resumed digging, let out a low whistle.

Staring
into the hole he was working on, he said, “We better call back the
staties. Looks like we may have another one.”

* * *

Nick was
walking up the mountain, in a good mood. He was banking on the fact that Carter
had spoken with Buddy and was looking forward to getting out on the lake with
her. Alone.

When he
got to the camp, it was orderly, as always. The mess area was spotless with any
food stored in locked-down coolers and hold-alls. The dishes had been washed
and stacked neatly on a small table and the fire had been banked. The three
tents, nestled off to one side, had their flaps down and secured. The sight of
these made him glower.

He
pictured Buddy sneaking into whichever one was Carter's, and, thought that
goddam professor better be staying in his own from now on.

Nick
headed over to the dig site. When he stepped inside the circle of stones, he
saw them all staring intently at the ground. Carter and Buddy were kneeling
over a pit, close together.

“Did
you find the missing link?” Nick asked, not bothering to hide the edge in
his voice.

Everyone
looked up and it gave him pleasure to watch Buddy move away from her.

“We've
got two skeletons. Buddy just found another and I think it might be a colonist,
based on this shoe buckle,” Carter explained. Her eyes flipped up to his
and then darted away as she flushed.

Nick
joined them, looking away from Carter only long enough to glance at the ground.
He saw part of a foot and an ankle in the shallow pit and, about five yards
away, a completely exposed skeleton, part of which was missing.

“You've
been busy,” he said, leaning over Carter. Her eyes rose again to his, the
blue in them deepening. In his mind, he took her into his arms, and she seemed
to know what he was thinking because he saw her breath quicken. She stood up
abruptly.

“I
understand we're to thank you and Ivan for the prompt appearance of the state
police yesterday,” she said in a rush. “Any chance you two can work
your magic again?”

“Maybe
this time I can show them the carburetor,” Buddy quipped.

Nick sent
him a cool look. “You found a piece of machinery?”

The man
nodded. “You never know what's going to come out of the ground.”

“Yes,
I imagine it all depends on what you bury.” Nick's voice was dark.

Buddy
frowned and got to his feet. “Kids, why don't we head back to camp and
start dinner. Leave Carter to give Mr. Farrell the details while we make
gourmet sandwiches.”

Nick
cocked an eyebrow at Buddy's swift departure, thinking the professor was one
smart guy.

Immediately,
Carter started talking to him about the finds in a serious voice. “The
skeleton we have excavated fully appears to be that of a male, between sixteen
and eighteen years of age, who died as the result of cerebral trauma and a
penetrating wound to the chest cavity. Based upon ...”

As she
went on, Nick didn't want to hear about the dig. He was far more interested in
talking about when they were going to be alone together.

He cut
her off with some gentle teasing. “Are you purposely doing an imitation of
Quincy or do all archaeologists speak like this when they're around open
pits?”

She
stopped talking and looked at him with wide, searching eyes. “Excuse
me?”

“Quincy. You know, the medical examiner. I recall there being a lot of plaid going on in
his suits, wide lapels, this kind of thing. Lived on a boat.”

She
flushed angrily. “And exactly what's the parallel between me and a '70s TV
character?”

“You're
so very serious,” he said softly. He hadn't meant to antagonize her.

“Do
you address your board of directors doing a Donald Duck imitation? This is my
work. I take it seriously.” She put her hands on her hips. “So are we
ready to try again?”

Obviously,
Carter was fully prepared to give him hell if he tried anything and it made
him smile. He didn't doubt for a moment she'd walk away if he didn't behave.

He found
himself thinking there might be room in his life for someone who stood up to
him.

“Now
what's wrong with you?” Her voice was exasperated.

“Wrong?”

“You're
smiling.”

“You
don't like me in a good mood?”

She
cocked her head to the side. Slowly, as if it were going against her better
instincts, she gave him a smile that made his heart stop. It was lopsided and
shyly teasing. “It's like a plaid leisure suit. I never expected to see
you in one.”

Nick
laughed, wanting to pull her close. “Thanks for the vote of confidence on
the wardrobe although I'm not sure I like what you're implying otherwise.”

“Now,
can we get serious for a minute?”

“You
keep smiling like that and I'll do anything you want.”

She
blushed before leading him over to the fully excavated skeleton. He listened
and was impressed with what she had to say. Her conclusions were measured and
logical and he realized she was more of a scientist than he'd thought.

“So
what are the chances these two were involved with the Winship party?” he
asked.

“Strong.
Farnsworth was escorted by two Americans as well as Winship and Red
Hawk. The party was met by his own men from Fort Sagamore, and I believe this
first one is a Brit. I've uncovered several buttons on him which are consistent
with those found on British redcoat uniforms in the middle to late 1700s.”

“What
about his buddy?” Nick nodded over to the other remains.

“The
bones appear to be at the same depth in the soil and they've aged in a similar
fashion. It looks as if that body was also buried in a shallow grave. I'm
really curious, but we can't excavate further until the staties come
back.”

“You
said grave. Who buried them?”

“That's
what I've been wondering. After the slaughter, everyone was supposed to be dead
except for Farnsworth. Maybe he sent other soldiers up from the fort to dig the
graves but I doubt it. With Walker escaping, the place would have been in an
uproar and the last thing on Farnsworth's mind would have been burying some
remains in the wilderness.” Her face was rapt with enthusiasm.
“Interestingly enough, this first skeleton shows no signs of disruption
from scavengers, which would suggest he was buried soon after he died,
before some animal got a chance to work on him. He also was laid to rest in his
gear, if the pattern and number of buttons is anything to go by. This means he
was buried by someone who was in too much of a hurry, or disinclined, to strip
him of his clothes and munitions. If Red Hawk killed them—”

“Hey,
I think we're being watched,” Nick interrupted, as he caught a flash of
movement.

Carter
looked alarmed. “By who—”

He
pointed up to a tree. Settled on a limb, a red-tailed hawk was peering down at
them with unblinking eyes.

“I'm
not superstitious,” she whispered.

“Neither
am I.”

“And
I don't believe any of those ghost stories about the Indian.”

There was
a moment of silence.

“You
want to go back to camp and talk about this?” she asked, still looking up
at the bird.

“Great
idea.”

* * *

Carter
was surprised at the ease with which Nick accepted an invitation to have dinner
with them. He seemed perfectly content to have a sandwich outdoors with all the
bugs as opposed to something fancy in his formal dinning room. He'd even
volunteered to put out the plates and cups and had helped cut up fruit for
dessert.

Still,
when he squeezed in next to her at the picnic table, she really wished he'd
eaten somewhere else. Throughout the meal, their elbows touched and their
thighs brushed. By the time she turned down the damn fruit, she was feverish
from the contact with him and resentful that he seemed so unaffected.

She was
ill at ease for another reason. The scene she'd witnessed between him and
Candace was still hanging over her. Aside from the questions it raised about
Nick, she wanted to explain why she'd been in the hallway but knew it was going
to be tough to justify herself. There was no good excuse for her behavior.
She'd been eavesdropping and was caught.

There was
one more thing clouding her mind. She wanted to know whether or not he
was going to follow through with that sailing proposition. Even though she was
wary of him and the threat he represented, she wanted to be alone with him.
Heaven help her, but she did. She wanted him to take her into his arms and slip
his tongue into her mouth and rip off her shirt—

“Right,
Carter?”

Startled,
she looked across at Ellie. “What?”

“You've
wanted to get out on the lake, too.”

Carter
blanched, wondering what she'd given away. “Yeah, sure.”

Nick
drawled, “Then I wouldn't be a good host unless I made that happen, would
I?”

He
glanced at her and, flustered, Carter stood and began picking up plates. When
she reached in front of Nick, he got to his feet and offered to help.

“I've
got it,” she said quickly, balancing a load carefully and heading over to
the river to rinse the dishes.

“Hey,
you forgot these,” Buddy called out, holding up some knives. When she said
her hands were full, he followed her into the woods.

They were
gone only a few minutes, but by the time they had returned, the mood at the
campsite had changed. Nick was wearing a dark look and the kids were very
quiet.

Frowning,
Buddy told Ellie and Cort to go spread a tarp over the new find. After they
disappeared into the woods, he turned on Nick, frustration evident on his face.
“What the hell's your problem?”

Carter
held her breath as she watched Nick turn on her friend.

“Seems
like you're the one with the issue.”

“I'm
tired of getting measured for a shroud by you, Farrell.”

“You
know what they say,” Nick growled back, “we're all dead men
walking.”

Carter
started scrambling for a way to diffuse the tension. “Why don't we all
head over to the site and—”

“What
have I ever done to you?” Buddy asked with exasperation. “Or are you
such a miserable bastard you take on everyone this way?”

“You
haven't done anything to me.”

“Precisely
my point.”

“Although
I'd be worried about what you're doing to your wife and daughter.” Nick's
eyes were fierce.

Buddy
looked shocked. “What?”

“I
don't know many men with the gall to sleep around under their daughter's nose.
You're a depraved son of a bitch, you know that?”