The Crusader ("The Crusader" Prequel to "Kingdom Come") (5 page)

"All
you would succeed in proving is that both relics belonged to the same man if,
in fact, you were successful in linking them. There is no way to prove that it
was Jesus Christ. And there wouldn't be any way of proving he was anything
other than an ordinary man."

"But
I can try to give more accurate credence to his myth. You of all people should
appreciate the tangibility of hard fact."

"We
do," Bud interjected, casting David a stern look that indicated he dare
not contradict him. "Which is why I'm going to try and buy us a little
more time. We've put a lot of work into this dig to see it end on such a
negative note."

Back to
the subject of extending the dig; it was obvious that Peck continued to
disagree and he lurched from his chair. Leaving the tent in a huff of
skepticism and irritation, Bud watched the tent flap swing back and forth in
the wake of his colleague's departure. Scratching his head, he sat back in his
chair.

"I'm
sorry about Dave," he offered weakly. "I've worked with the man for
twelve years and he's always been like this."

Rory
looked up from her hands, cocking an eyebrow. "Like what? A jerk?"

Bud
smiled, his perfect teeth gleaming within his square, stubbled jaw. "He
certainly can be. But he's one of the smartest guys I know and I wouldn't be
without him."

A faint
smile on her lips in response to Bud's grin, Rory gazed steadily at the man who
had become her friend and boss over the past fourteen months. A man who would
have done anything in the world for her. Including risk his reputation on a dig
that was clearly a waste of time.

Rory
liked Bud. She always had. And she'd known from the beginning that he was in love
with her, although she had tried not to encourage him. He was a good-looking
guy, his masculine features and crew-cut blond hair a tremendous comfort in a
land full of dark-haired strangers. But she simply didn't feel an over amount
of attraction to him and she wondered, when he realized his infatuation with
her had nearly ruined his reputation, if he wouldn't grow to hate her. She
hoped not.

Taking a
deep breath to chase away her annoyance with Peck, she put a palm on Bud's
hand. "You said it yourself, Bud. There's nothing on that hill but an
ancient trash dump and I doubt that a month or two or even twelve would do a
whole lot of good. Maybe you should just go ahead and email Becker your report
and see what he says."

Bud
stared into her green eyes, wondering if he and Rory would ever make as good a
pair as Louis S.B. and Mary Leakey. He certainly intended to spend the rest of
his life pursuing that thought. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice
raspy as her touch sent bolts of electricity through him. "I mean, I can
stall for time."

She
smiled and he went weak. "Time for what? For Dave to become even more of a
jerk and time for you and I to dig an even bigger hole into nothingness? Thanks
for your support, but maybe we'd better go ahead and end this now. While we've
still got our dignity."

Bud
thought a moment, still fixed on her beautiful face. But visions of him kissing
her luscious lips infiltrated his mind until he had to look away or risk doing
something drastic. Christ, he hated to see it all end like this.

"Are
you sure?"

"Yes."

There
was nothing more to say. After a moment, he nodded faintly. "All
right," he sat forward, reaching for David's laptop computer. Rory
released his hand, rising from her chair as Bud began hit the ‘Send’ button.

She
wandered to the canvas opening, watching Bud type with his index fingers. The
more she came to grips with the cessation of her dig, the more her anguish
threatened to overwhelm her. By the time she turned away from her supervising
archaeologist, she could hardly breathe with the pain in her chest.

"Let
me know what he says, huh?" she asked softly, exiting the tent. "I'll
be around."

Bud
stopped typing long enough to watch her heart-shaped bottom fade into the
brilliant sunlight. With a sigh of sincere regret, he finished the last of the
command and pressed enter.

Dr.
Uriah Becker read the email a half hour later.

***

The
winds had died by early afternoon but the temperature remained unbearable. As
the camp lounged lazily in a attempt to seek some relief from the heat, Bud
went in search of Rory to give her the just-received reply from Dr. Becker.
When he failed to find her in her tent, he spent a half-hour scouring the
grounds. But it was soon apparent that she was not within the camp perimeter
and his concern mounted as he widened his area of search.

In
triple-digit heat he headed for the excavations on the distant rise, concerned
that she was struggling in the last few hours of her project to prove her
point. Sweating profusely, he was somewhat disturbed to see David coming down
the hill toward him. Baseball hat stained with perspiration, Dr. Peck's
expression was grim.

"She's
going to kill herself, Bud," he said severely. "She's up in that damn
trench again, digging as if her life depends on it. I tried to get her to come
out but she won't even talk to me."

Bud
sighed heavily, rolling his eyes with regret. "How long has she been
there?"

David
turned to follow him as Bud continued up the hill. "I don't know. Hours,
at least. She's as red as a beet."

Bud
winced. "That's not like her at all. She's usually so careful about sun
exposure."

David
agreed. "No water, either."

Bud's
expression hardened. "Christ," he swore softly. "Like it or not,
she's coming out of there if I have to carry her."

"You'll
probably have to."

Reaching
the top of the slope, Bud's gaze immediately fell on Rory's chestnut head
bobbing in the trench. Catching a glimpse of an extremely red face, he put his
hand on David's arm in an urgent gesture. "Go get some wet towels, Dave.
And hurry up!"

David fled.
Marching to the edge of the trench, Bud jumped to the dirt several feet below. Rory
was furiously, meticulously, sectioning earth with a pickaxe, a method used to
loosen sod for later removal and processing. When the pickaxe came up, Bud
grabbed hold and yanked hard.

Rory
almost toppled with the strength of his pull; the pickaxe tugged free, leaving
splinters in her blistered hands. Her beautiful face, confused and glistening
with sweat, met his angry expression.

"Just
what in the hell are you doing?" he demanded. "How long have you been
here?"

Dazed
and ill-feeling though she might be, Rory stood her ground. "This is still
my dig until we pull up stakes. And I'm going to work on it until I'm forced to
leave."

He
tossed the pickaxe aside in a fit of fury, grabbing her hand. "I'm forcing
you to leave now. If you stay out here any longer you're going to end up in the
hospital."

Resistant
to his demand, Rory jerked her hand away and nearly fell on her bottom.
"It's my dig, Bud. I told you, we're not looking in the right place. I...
I just have to keep searching!"

His eyes
glittered with rage. "Not four hours ago you told me that any more digging
would be a waste of time."

She was
emotionally and physically unbalanced; for the first time since he had known her,
Bud saw Rory's eyes fill with tears.

"It's
my dig," she repeated quietly, her lower lip trembling. "The
manuscripts weren't wrong, Bud. There's something here. I know it."

His
anger fled. How could he tell her that Dr. Becker had ordered an immediate cessation
of all work and the complete disbandment of the camp within the next
forty-eight hours? Of course, he couldn't. Not when she was so emotionally
brittle. What mattered most was cooling her down, calming her down, and then
talking some sense into her. Reaching out, he grasped her hand again. More
gently, this time.

"I
believe you, honey," he said softly, watching the tears spill down her
dusty cheeks. "But now is not the time to go looking. It's far too hot and
you need to rest. Let's go back to camp."

She
shook her head feebly but he tugged on her arm, encouraging her to the edge of
the ditch. Making sure he had a good grip on her, he climbed from the trench
and practically lifted her out behind him. When she began to weave dangerously
as he moved her down the hill, he swept her into his arms and made haste for
her tent.

Rory's
arms were wound around his neck, her scorching body sweating all over him.
"I'm going back in a little while, Bud," she murmured. "After a
little rest."

Her damp
forehead was against his stubbled jaw. In the distance, Bud could see Peck
running toward him with an armful of dripping towels. "Whatever you say,
honey," he murmured, loving the feel of her in his arms but wishing the
circumstances were different. "I won't argue with you."

Her tent
was sweltering but it provided some shelter from the sun. As Bud lay her down
on the narrow bed, David hovered over her like a mother and lay cooling towels
over her face and arms. Bud bathed her legs as Rory lay still, panting softly
with near-heat stroke.

"If...
if we section away more of the loose earth, maybe we'll get a better
view," her voice was barely audible. When David lifted her head and ran a
cold, wet towel across the back of her neck, she gasped softly. "The sod
is really sandy in some places, which will make it easier to remove."

Bud
didn't reply as he removed her shoes, noting the fuschia-painted nails and
delicate toes. Christ, even her feet were lovely. "Get her some water,
Dave. She's really dehydrated."

Peck laid
the wet towel across her forehead, gazing at his young associate with genuine
concern. Regardless of their differences and the fact that he wasn't usually a
compassionate person, he was nonetheless concerned for her health. Being
insensitive didn't mean he had a heart of stone, and in spite of everything he
truly enjoyed the love-hate relationship they seemed to share. She was one of
the only people he knew who could stand up against his arrogant nature.

"How
'bout some Gatorade, Rory?" he asked softly, as if a louder tone would
cause her to break. For some reason, he felt responsible for her condition. As
if his bitter cynicism had forced her to prove her point. "My parents
shipped me a whole case of it. There's lemonade flavor and cherry and..."

Rory
shook her head listlessly. "No thanks, Dave. That stuff tastes like
flavored sweat. Water's fine."

He
smiled faintly, glad she wasn't ill to the point of non-response. “It’s better
for you than water. You should know that; you studied Pre-Med for a couple of
years, didn’t you?”
She nodded weakly. “Yes, but I still don’t want any.”

“Salt,
sugar, potassium. Yum.”

When she
stuck her tongue at him in response, he pursed his lips wryly. But he was still
smiling.

"All
right, all right, don't get nasty," he said, moving for the tent opening.
There were several workers huddled outside, trying to catch a glimpse of what
was going on; they had all seen Bud carrying Rory down from the excavations and
rumors of her ill health had spread like wildfire.

David
caught sight of the gaggle of employees, scattering the majority of them with a
brusque order. But he retained a couple of the women, instructing them to bring
Rory a pitcher of purified water and more wet towels. As the women scurried
away, David found his attention drawn to the site on the distant rise.

He
didn't know why his attention was riveted to the dusty hill. After what he had
seen yesterday, he shouldn't have given the site a second thought. But Rory
believed there was something up there, something worth risking her health and
reputation for, and with a heavy sigh David found himself trudging up the
gritty slope. If only to see the same old dirt she had been so intent to risk
heatstroke over.

The
earth was hot enough to cook meat. David paused at the edge of the trench, observing
the grids that he had constructed himself. Rory's precise digging was apparent,
the pickaxe carelessly thrown to the side by Bud's fury. Stepping into the
hole, David studied the newly exposed earth.

Rocks.
Dried mud. Nothing of significance met his trained eye. David sighed, flicking
aside bits of debris as he scanned the area Rory had been working in. He didn't
even know why he was here; obviously, there was nothing to be seen. But in lieu
of a verbal apology to Rory for their earlier confrontation, he was almost
determined to find something, something that would bring her joy and ease the
fact that his logic had driven her to the point of illness. But the more he
probed, the more he realized the futility of his search. There really wasn't
anything here.

David
stood up, his gaze lingering on the piece of earth Rory had been working on
when Bud had interrupted her madness. Heart sinking, he was about to turn away
from the depressing sight when something caught his eye.

He
wasn't even sure what it was. Truthfully, he wasn't even sure why it had snared
his attention. But something made him pause and peer closely at a section of
earth nearly hidden beneath the disturbed parcel of soil. Crouching on his
haunches, David dusted away several square inches of dirt. With a sudden jolt
of curiosity, his fingers probed the dust only to come into contact with a
hard, ungiving surface.