A Rare Breed (5 page)

"Nothing extra, like blankets?"

"Oh." He snapped his fingers. "Blankets. Everyone will need something tonight."

"And, would you have, possibly, an extra toothbrush?"

He grinned. "Matter of fact, I do. A handful. I use them to clean my artifacts."

"Yuk! They have dirt in them?"

He moved to a box and started digging. "There may be a few clean ones." Triumphantly he pulled up several. "Maybe the Romeros won't mind sharing."

She shook her head. "Don't bet on it. I can’t imagine them sharing a TV set, let alone a tooth-brush."

"I never bet. The odds are always stacked."

Brit tucked away that bit of information before continuing. "Jake, you must think we're all jerks. The arguments. The fight. I was awful back there about my shoes, but I was just so aggravated that I'd paid so much and they fell apart."

"I understand. You've all had quite a day."

"We're just upset. Tomorrow will be better, I'm sure."

"Yeah. You're going home. No offense, but none of you belong down here."

"You're absolutely right." She poured the last of the champagne into the paper cup and handed it to him. "Here. We had a toast with the champagne from the cooler. This is all that's left. Since you did the rescuing, seems only right that you have a couple of sips."

He started to refuse, but she insisted with a persuasive smile. "Please. We want you to know that, in spite of everything, we appreciate your efforts. We'd really be up the creek, so to speak, without you, Jake."

He moved closer and took the cup from her, his rough fingers brushing hers. "Don't thank me, yet. You haven't spent the night."

"Is it really dangerous?" Brit's eyes widened. "What kind of animals roam around down here?"

"Not dangerous at all." Jake took a healthy sip of the champagne. "I happen to think it's beautiful at night here."

"Tell me about the animals." A part of her wanted to know. Another part didn't.

"Coyotes, javelina, bobcats, an occasional mountain lion."

"Predators. That sounds dangerous to me." She hugged her arms to her ribs and shivered.

"We'll keep a low fire going. I don't think we’ll have a problem." He shifted to a lounging position, propped on one elbow. His long body stretched out, taking up one side of the tent. "I'm sure the Romeros aren't very good at roughing it."

"No, probably not."

He examined her with a gentle, but thorough, gaze. "And you?"

Brit shook her head. "Me, either, I'm afraid. I haven't slept outside in years." She paused then added, "I'll bet you're pretty aggravated with us, aren't you? We've interrupted your work and peaceful life."

He finished the small amount of champagne and handed her the cup without answering her question. "I hope you're saving these."

She stopped short of crumpling the cup in her hand. "Save these paper cups? Why?"

"Because I don't have enough cups, or utensils, for that matter, for five people."

"But you said you had enough food."

"There's enough canned food to share, but it's nothing fancy, I warn you. I only get food drops once a week, and not much is fresh." He got up and went to another box in the corner and began sorting through it. "I have some leather pieces around here somewhere. Let me have your sandals. I can use the soles as a base for your moccasins."

"I can’t believe this."

"They'll do for the interim. Ahh, here's what I need." He pulled out a sizable sheet of finished leather. "This is perfect. Give me your shoes."

She gestured at her one foot tied with the cord. "It works. You're absolutely right. A person needs shoes down here."

"Hiking boots would be even better."

"Right. But I didn’t plan to hike to L.A." Brit handed him the tattered shoe. "Are you ... I hope you don’t mind me asking you this, Jake, but are you an Indian? I mean, Native American? Making moccasins isn’t an everyday thing most people do. And you do look, sort of uh, like ... I mean, dark hair and . . ."

"You noticed." He smiled teasingly. "I'm part Zuni. My grandmother was Zuni, and she married a white man and moved away from the village. So I only went back with her to visit occasionally. Never spent much time there."

"Zuni?" The word sounded familiar, but Brit couldn’t place it right away. "Is that a branch of
the Navajo?"

He chuckled. "No. Completely different tribe. Different location. Different language. Different culture. Not all Indians are alike, y'know."

Brit felt embarrassed. "Sorry, I don't know much about them, obviously." Then she remembered. Bonnie's lover was from the Zuni tribe. Of course, she should know that.

"Not many people know about them or care." He placed her sh
oes with the leather in the cor
ner. "I’ll work on those later." When he straightened and moved closer, Brit noticed a thin leather necklace with a small charm that rested at the base of his throat. The tiny figure seemed to draw her, refusing to let go, and she shifted so she could see it more clearly.

Jake lifted his chin, inviting her inspection. "It's a bear fetish, a good luck emblem. The Zunis have several of them—toads, birds, sheep, and goats, but the bear is my favorite. A friend carved this and gave it to me for good luck while I'm down here."

"And have you had good luck?" Brit admired the tiny jet bear with a single turquoise eye that nestled against his copper skin.

He gazed into her eyes with a trancelike intensity. "Very good luck so far. It even worked for you."

"How do you figure that?"

"You got out of the crash alive. And with relatively few injuries. That, in itself, is a miracle."

"Right." Spontaneously, for a reason beyond her understanding, Brit reached out to touch the tiny bear. She rubbed it with one finger, but it was so small she also stroked Jake's sleek brown skin. At the contact, she pulled away as if stung by fire. "Nice," she mumbled, unable to think of anything intelligent at the moment. There was a feeling, a power or energy in the touching, and she wasn't sure if it came from him or the bear. But touching him definitely sent her senses soaring.

Just as her gaze met his, they heard loud voices from the group outside the tent. Loud, arguing voices. Jake reached into a nearby duffle bag and tossed her a pair of thick socks, obviously his. "Wear these around camp until I get your mocs made. They'll keep your feet warm. Next we need to do something about that." He gestured to her torn dress. "Wear these." He pulled out more clothes, dumping a tee shirt and a plaid flannel along with jeans in her lap.

The magic moment between them was gone, and Brit felt let down and deflated. She wanted to be alone with him, to know more about him, his past, and to tell him about herself and her dreams. But they were here, in the bottom of the Grand Canyon, in a strange place for a brief moment in time. "I'm sorry . . ." she mumbled.

"About what?" His tone was sharp. His amiable mood departed. They could hear Rudi's and Frank's voices rise. "Go ahead and get dressed," he instructed. "I'll see if I can settle the children down." He stepped outside, leaving her alone to change clothes and ponder their situation.

Brit listened to Jake as he immediately took charge of the argument. He was, at times, infuriatingly arrogant and self-assured. Maybe his attitude came from being part Indian and that he thought he had a beat on living out here, next to nature. Well, dammit, she'd show him she could be just as hardy as he.

Actually, Brit had never thought much about the Indians as being different from each other before he suggested it. She had simply lumped them all together into one large category: American Indians, Native Americans. It was good that Jake had pointed out the distinctions. She would need to know this while working on the movie.

Like Bonnie's Zuni lover, Jake was a ruggedly handsome man. And tall. Brit couldn't help feeling an attraction to those mysterious dark eyes and that silky jet-black hair of his. Oh! She must be hallucinating after the shock of this day. How could she find such an arrogant, strange man appealing? He wouldn't fit in her world at all. As she pulled on her socks, she could hear Jake's strong voice booming over the others.

"Listen up . . . canned beans or canned corn for supper. You can have either one or both. So no more arguing. No law suits down here ... we’ll all work together."

Brit smiled. He was optimistic. And dictatorial. He sounded like an army sergeant. As a professor, he probably ran his class with an iron hand and expected this group to behave the same way as a classroom of students. A chuckle escaped her smiling lips. He'd actually told Yolanda to shut up. Wouldn't the girls at the office get a kick out of this? She heard a rustle outside the tent.

"You dressed yet, Brit? Frank and I are going to unload this tent so more than one can sleep in there tonight."

"In a minute." Brit made a quick assessment as she undressed. She was a complete mess. This morning, she had been normal. She had looked good. Hair, nails, immaculate clothes, expensive shoes, everything was perfect. That was the way she liked it. Now her clothes were in tatters. Her nails were broken, the polish chipped. Her hair had lost its bouncy curls. And her shoes were ruined.

Hurriedly she slipped out of her torn dress and into Jake's clothes. They were soft and warm against her skin. The cloth smelled like wood and fresh pine, just like Jake. She was surrounded by his fragrance, his essence. It was the most comfortable she had felt all day.

When she stepped outside the tent, a magenta glow from the sunset on the vermilion cliffs gave the entire campsite a pinkish glow. It was unusual and beautiful. Yes, as beautiful as a rock castle whose walls were draped with rich red velvet.

Jake's commanding voice broke into her reverie. "Rudi, gather more firewood. Look down by the river for driftwood. We'll make any campfires in this fire pan." He lifted a large metal pan. "Since fires are dangerous to the environment and leave such a mess, they're prohibited in the canyon." He pointed to Brit and Yolanda. "You two open these cans and set them on this rack over the fire. Frank and I will unload the big tent so there'll be room for sleeping in there."

Everyone responded to Jake's orders, everyone except Yolanda. She had broken a fingernail and now refused to touch another thing. So Brit opened the cans and set them on the rack above the fire. Twenty minutes later, everyone gathered for an adequate supper of canned beans, canned corn, canned green chili peppers, and tortillas.

"With a meal like this, I feel like one of those ancient Indians you're studying, Jake," Frank observed as he rolled the flour tortilla around a generous helping of beans and chopped green chilies.

"This is what they might have eaten, from all we can tell," Jake responded. “Not canned, of course.”

"Probably explains why they died out," Yolanda commented as she picked at her plate.

"It's nourishing enough to have sustained them for hundreds of years. They revered corn and squash," Jake said in defense of the plain food. "They also used sunflower seeds and pine nuts in a number of ways. They ground them for flour."

"That must have been real tasty," Yolanda muttered.

"Not bad, actually. My classes make these foods every year in the process of understanding past cultures. And understanding benefits us all." He glared at Yolanda, and she looked down at her plate without further comment.

It was the first time Brit had seen Yolanda speechless and she had to give Jake credit. He was certainly not intimidated by her celebrity status. Down here, no one had status. Except, maybe, Jake.

"What happened to those Indians who lived down here?" Frank asked.

Jake answered eagerly. It was a subject he obviously loved. "There are theories as to why they left. Some think it was a period of drought which left them unable to grow crops and feed their people. Others think there were wars between the various bands that lived here. That's one of the things I'm hoping to uncover in my research. To see if we can tell why they're no longer here."

"How could you possibly do that?" Brit spread one hand and gestured at the cathedral walls. "They're all gone. There's no one to ask."

"I'm studying what they left behind."

"What did they leave?"

"That's the strange part. In some instances, it's almost as if they were caught by surprise and just escaped. Some of the rooms remain untouched, as if the occupants would be back tomorrow. And they've been that way for hundreds of years."

Brit was amazed. "What's there? Household things?"

"Exactly. Pottery, cooking utensils, toys, parts of clothes made from skins, food."

"Food?"

He nodded toward his plate. "Corn. It's rather dried by now, but preserved enough for anyone to recognize it."

"Good grief!" Yolanda exclaimed, getting up in a huff. "As absolutely fascinating as this conversation is, I must excuse myself. Dinner was, um, unusual, to say the least. Can I dispose of this behind a rock?"

"No!" Jake jumped up and followed her. "That'll attract animals, for sure. All garbage and trash must be contained." He showed them how to clean up the supper dishes and store the trash. Later he handed out the toothbrushes along with instructions for hygiene that wouldn't sully the natural beauties around them.