A Rare Breed (3 page)

spending it. Or gambling it away."

"You lost more at the roulette wheel than I did at everything combined!"

"Now, folks . . ." Frank admonished. "Bickering won't help things."

Brit was suddenly aware of water swirling around her ankles and began moving toward shore. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Somewhere in the bottom of the Grand Canyon." Frank followed her, glancing around with a bewildered expression. "Let's see now, we were flying over the far west corner."

"Oh, great," Rudi muttered, cursing again. He and Yolanda helped each other to shore. "The pilot needs a compass. Meantime I'v
e lost thousands of dollars
of jewelry, camera equipment, and clothes."

"Hey, what's that?" Frank pointed to an object bouncing in the river. He ran toward it, plunging into midstream without hesitation.

"What do you see?" Yolanda stood on tiptoe and stretched her neck. "Somebody's luggage? Mine, I hope!"

They watched with renewed optimism as Frank pulled something large from the water and hauled it toward them. "Look, folks! At least we still have the shrimp cocktail and champagne!" The bulky box proved to be the drink cooler, which Frank pulled to their sandy spot.

Something about the sight of Frank struggling to salvage that sturdy but cheap, in comparison to what they'd just lost, red and white cooler triggered Rudi's rage. Without warning, he leaped at Frank and wrestled him to the ground. The two of them rolled together, grunting, and grappling like slapstick comedians in an old movie.

Brit and Yolanda screamed at the two men to stop, but they continued wrestling ineptly.

"Damn fool—" Rudi muttered along with a barrage of curses.

"Crazy jackass — " Frank mumbled, trying to get the upper hand.

Finally Rudi, being much larger and stronger, rolled to the top and, straddling Frank, pulled back his arm to punch the hapless pilot. Brit yelled again and lunged forward, latching onto Rudi's giant arm, screaming for him to stop. She felt him try to shake her free, felt her whole body tremble as he used his roaring strength to loosen her grip and free himself from her.

She was whipped around like a rag doll and then a different male voice bellowed, "Hey, stop! Stop that!" But there was no stopping. Rudi was a raging bull and continued trying to box poor Frank, who lay pressed to the ground. Brit held onto his arm, mak
ing the fight impossible and in
furiating Rudi further. Suddenly, there was a loud smack, a low groan, and Rudi tumbled backward. Brit, still attached to his arm, went with him.

Briefly stunned by the impact, Brit finally managed to sit up and prop herself on Rudi's huge form, which lay still beside her. Yes, there he was. She hadn't imagined another man. There actually was someone who had interfered with the fight. He had long dark hair and intense dark eyes and he hovered close to her face.

"You all right?" His voice rumbled low in his throat as his hands framed her shoulders and held her firmly for a moment.

"I'm fine," she lied. Brit thought she must be dreaming that a handsome stranger with dark hair to his shoulders appeared out of nowhere.

As soon as she claimed she was all right, he moved and she could hear him talking to Frank. Yolanda sat close, cradling her husband's massive head in
her lap, murmuring, "Oh, Rudi-T
udi baby, speak to me. Are you all right? Oh, come on, baby . . ." Gone was the quarrelsome attitude that had kept them bickering for the whole trip. Now she was full of smothering affection.

Brit pushed herself to her feet, trying to put things into perspective. Maybe she had fallen asleep on the flight and would wake up any minute and find herself safe and sound and nearing L.A.X.

"You sure you're all right, miss?" A hand touched her shoulder. "You look a little dazed."

Brit lifted her face and brushed her blond hair back. She stared at the most handsome man she could ever imagine in her wildest dream. "Who are you?"

"Jake Landry. I was working about half a mile from here when I heard the crash."

Yes, she thought. She was dreaming. Dreaming about her great-grandmother Bonnie's story.

There stood a tall Indian with dark hair to his shoulders and dressed only in a breechcloth. He was certainly magnificent
.

The difference was that this man named Jake wore a faded chambray shirt and frayed Levi's and looked quite contemporary. His shiny jet hair was short on the sides and slightly longer in back. He had the high cheekbones and chiseled features of a Native American. And he was absolutely magnificent.

"Did you say you work near here?" A flood of hope swept over Brit. Perhaps they were near some habitation, more people, and a way out. They could be rescued soon!

"I'm digging over there—" He gestured behind them.

"Digging? For gold?" Her eyes grew larger.

"Hardly." He chuckled and shook his head. The dark straight hair moved like silk tassels around his face. "Digging a ruin."

"A what?"

"It's an Indian ruin or cliff dwelling where Indians lived nearly a thousand years ago. There are several sites hidden in the canyon walls that are full of antique treasures. I'm documenting them."

"You mean like . . . archeology?" Brit's voice fell along with her hopes. This man wasn't here to rescue them. He had other interests.

"Exactly like archeology." His dark eyes gleamed when he mentioned eight-hundred-year- old pots and baskets no one had touched for hundreds of years.

Rudi groaned and the stranger named Jake Landry started toward him. Brit quickly stepped forward. "Tell me, Jake. Are you . . . alone. Or is there a team of you down here working?"

"No team. I'm alone." He pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket and tucked it into her hand. "If there's any ice in that cooler, put a piece in here for that one." He nodded toward Frank. "He's going to have a doozie of a shiner."

Brit felt a surge of energy as the man's hand wrapped around hers. She recalled Bonnie's first reaction to her lover.

We stared, surprise in both our faces. Our eyes met. . .

Jake quickly moved away, and Brit fumbled as she tucked the handkerchief around a handful of ice and went to Frank. His eye was already beginning to swell.

With a sideways glance, Brit watched as the tall stranger knelt beside a groaning, groggy Rudi. "Hey, you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Rudi mumbled something unintelligible, then seemed to wake fully and cursed a blue streak.

"Sorry, bud." Jake offered his hand and pulled Rudi to a sitting position.

"Sorry?" Yolanda was furious. "You jackass! You knocked my husband all the way over here! You could have hurt him badly. What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Look, lady," Jake said between thinned lips. "I don't know exactly what's going on here, but your husband was beating up that man over there. And he's bigger. I didn't see either of you women able to stop it. Somebody had to do something."

"It was a guy thing." Yolanda pouted defensively.

"No, it was a stupid fight, as most of them are. Now, why don't you get some ice for your husband, and we can talk about your situation."

Finally they gathered around the stranger, Brit and Frank on one side of him and Yolanda and Rudi on the other. As he spoke, Brit was reminded of Bonnie's description of her Indian lover.

I knew immediately that he was a rare breed of a man.

"Let's exchange names as a reasonable beginning. I'm Jake Landry, and I teach at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff. I'm down here working on a research project."

"I'm Frank Scofeld, the pilot of this shipwreck. And these folks are my passengers." Frank held the iced handkerchief on his eye and gestured for the rest to introduce themselves.

"I'm Yolanda. And this man you knocked around is my husband, Rudi Romero."

Rudi spoke up. "She's the comedian on TV, Yolanda." Rubbing his jaw, he grumbled, "Damn, this hurts. You pack a wallop."

Jake shook their hands. "I don't watch much TV, but it's nice to meet you. Sorry about the punch, Rudi." He turned a curious expression to Brit.

"I'm Brit Bailey." She felt caught in the strange power of his dark gaze.

"Are you with them?" Jake asked.

"Me?" She shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no. I'm, uh, traveling alone. We just happened to charter the same flight to L.A."

"If you were heading for L.A., how did you get so far off track?"

Rudi stepped forward. "We were trying to show Yolanda the Grand Canyon."

"Yeah," Yolanda added scornfully. "And here it is!"

"Engine trouble," Frank inserted. "I was trying to land on this sandbar when we hit the trees."

"Probably a good thing." Jake shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You're lucky to get out alive."

She smiled up at him. "And lucky you found us."

"But we're not lucky to have lost valuable luggage and clothes and jewels," Yolanda reminded everyone.

"My camp's not far away." Jake walked around and gave everyone a rudimentary inspection. "If you're ready for a little hike, there's some food left, maybe not enough for a feast, but enough to share."

"We have shrimp and champagne in the cooler," Frank offered.

Everyone was silent for a moment, balancing the incongruity of shrimp and champagne with their predicament.

Jake looked at Rudi, then at Frank. "Okay, guys, listen up. No more fighting, you hear? Whatever is going on between you two will have to stop. Agreed?"

After a moment's hesitation, and encouragement from Brit and Yolanda, both men nodded stubbornly.

"How the hell do we get out of here?" Yolanda asked.

Jake rubbed his chin. "I'm supposed to receive a food drop tomorrow. I’ll notify the pilot that we need a rescue and he can go for help."

"What are you talking about?" Yolanda demanded, hands on hips. Her jumpsuit was torn and wet and she looked like she'd been in a fight, herself.

"Well," Jake explained slowly. "There's a pilot who flies over regularly and drops food once or twice a week."

"How long have you been down here?"

"Almost a month."

"Whoa!" Yolanda exclaimed, making a mug for the others. "I’ll bet your wife loves this summer vacation."

"No wife. Just work," he said.

"That's it? No more contact with the outside world?"

Jake nodded, tight-lipped.

"What about a shortwave radio? Can't you just call someone?"

"A shortwave is too heavy. I didn't want to bother with it. Figured I wouldn't need it."

"Wrong! What if you got injured?"

"If I missed picking up my supply drop, they'd send someone to check on me."

"So you're saying that we have to spend the night down here?" By her expression, Yolanda

was clearly amazed at the concept.

Jake swung the cooler to his shoulder. "Looks that way. Follow me."

"This is crazy," Yolanda objected. "I'm not camping. Just get me out of here, but I'm not sleeping on the ground."

Jake ignored her and, with no apparent alternative, Brit followed him. She admired his lean masculine form as he strode sure-footed and confident over the rocks. He wore thick-soled hiking boots that secured his tight-fitting jeans above the ankles. His hips were slim and his back, straight and sturdy. The pale blue shirt hung from broad, angular shoulders. Dark hair, needing a trim, barely brushed his slightly frayed shirt collar.

Brit stumbled and noticed for the first time that her expensive Italian shoes were ripped beyond salvation. They barely stayed on her feet. Then she saw that her dress, too, was virtually ruined. The exquisite silk with its tiny hand-painted flowers looked like something a shipwrecked character in a B-movie would wear, including an uneven tear that revealed a nice expanse of one thigh.

Yolanda didn't look much better. Of course, she still wore her diamonds, but both knees of her silver lame jumpsuit were ripped and one sleeve flopped beneath her armpit. Rudi still had his Rolex and gold chains, but his shirt had a couple of bloodstains and a large rip in back from the fight. Frank stumbled along, somewhat dazed, his shirt torn, also. The only one who was strong and sure was Jake Landry, striding confidently ahead of them.

Brit concluded that she couldn't possibly dream up a more unusual or potentially exciting situation. Jake Landry was better than a dream, actually. He was real; or, at least, she thought he was. To make sure she could relish him a little longer. Brit decided to wait awhile before she pinched herself to see if she were awake.

Chapter Two

Jake sat on the cooler and propped his elbows on his widespread knees. This was their second rest stop in the last half hour, and he wondered if they'd make it to camp before dark. This group obviously was not in very good physical condition. He knew the terrain was rough to the uninitiated, but this bunch of prima donnas was getting to him.

"These things cost nearly two hundred dollars and aren't worth two cents!" Brit exclaimed unexpectedly, her voice shrill and echoing against the towering canyon walls. She flung the tattered shoes as hard as she could into the rocks. Sitting on flat sandstone, she cradled one foot tenderly and massaged it.