Carved in Stone (5 page)

Of course he could understand her attitude if her father had actually been so low as to take credit for her work. Hell, most fathers wanted to show their kids off, not steal from them.

She certainly hadn’t overstated her climbing skill.

In many ways, Alex was more agile than Nate, with her long, slender build and lighter weight. She had the reach of most men and the strength to pull herself up along the tiny hand- and toeholds that, along with the slender length of nylon rope, were the only things to support a climber against the vertical wall of the cliff.

Nate, larger and heavier, had watched in awe as she moved gracefully ahead of him, setting the pitons securely in the rock with practiced skill, marking a semipermanent trail across the face of the cliff so they could reuse it throughout the full six weeks of their study. She followed his instructions exactly and without complaint, even though he knew the sleek muscles in her arms and shoulders had to be knotted in agony from the exacting climb.

He was equally impressed with her photographic skills, though that was based on what he now knew were her shots, not her well-known father’s. She’d set up solar panels to charge the batteries for the camera and computer equipment, but they’d not taken the time tonight to actually pull out her laptop to download any of the shots. Instead, she’d dumped them into a portable thumb drive to go through when they had more time. Nate had no doubt the quality of pictures she’d taken would be perfect.

He’d already seen her eagle, hadn’t he?

He was sorry Will had been injured, but already Nate realized that Alex surpassed the young man’s skill in every respect.

Except personality. Six weeks of biting his tongue could get to be pretty painful.

Six weeks. Would six weeks be long enough to unravel the mystery behind the strange carvings on the cliff? The designs were fascinating, vaguely familiar and oddly unsettling. Did Alex feel the same sense of leashed power that he’d noticed? A flickering touch along nerves each time they discovered a new symbol?

The legend left more unsaid than it explained. If the Spirit Walkers had truly existed, where had they gone? Where had they come from? What was the source of their power, and had their magic remained, trapped forever in the rugged mountain?

If they actually had existed, if the curse were real, what risk did he and Alex face for disturbing things that had been untouched for eons?

Six weeks. Six weeks to unravel the mystery of the Spirit Walkers.
Six weeks to unravel the mystery of Alex Martin.

Well, hell . . . where did that come from? Nate chuckled softly to himself. Amazing, the thoughts that rattle around in a tired mind.

The chill was beginning to creep into his bones as the rock cooled in the evening air. Tired and relaxed from his bath, he sat up and slowly dressed in a pair of clean sweats, folded his dirty clothes and headed back to camp.

Tomorrow they would climb the back side of the plateau. He and Roger hadn’t had enough time to get a look at all of the carvings on the upper level of the cliff, but what they’d seen had definitely looked—and felt—interesting.

Besides, he didn’t think Alex would want to venture up the face of the cliff again so soon, especially if her muscles felt anything like his. Now, if he could only figure out a way to approach the subject without letting her think he was being condescending.

He might be a bit of a chauvinist, but he was willing to be enlightened. Especially if it meant a day to recover from today’s climb.

Chapter 4

The night was almost completely dark and the fire nothing more than a glowing pile of coals by the time Nate got back to camp. He stumbled over a rock on the trail, cursed softly and barely caught his balance in time to avoid falling on his face. Pausing, he caught sight of Alex in the pale shadows cast by the smoldering embers.

He shook his head, not even trying to bite back the grin. It was hard to reconcile the tender picture she made, curled up against the pile of climbing gear, her long braid looped over her shoulder, both hands tucked beneath one cheek. Asleep, she looked like a child, her full lower lip slightly pouting, her forehead wrinkled as if in deep thought.

Nothing at all like the harridan who drove him nuts and fascinated him in equal parts.

Nate carefully set his pack down and added some extra wood to the fire as quietly as possible. The dry kindling caught and flared up immediately, casting a soft glow that flickered and danced around the tiny glade.

He opened the flap to Alex’s tent and crawled inside. Her gear and clothing were neatly stowed in the small space, the sleeping bag zipped completely shut to discourage small scaled, furry, or many-legged visitors. Nate unzipped the bag and pulled the down-filled shell open.

He thought about trying to put her to bed without waking her.

Bad idea.

Imagining her reaction if she woke up while he was hauling her off to bed wasn’t anything he was ready to deal with. Gently shaking her shoulder appeared to be a more prudent decision.

“Alex.” He whispered her name, and she squirmed a bit on the hard ground. “Alex, wake up. It’s late. I know you’re tired. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

She grumbled a little, a sleepy child sound that brought another smile to Nate’s lips, but he urged her to turn around and crawl the few short inches into her bed. She wriggled into the soft bag, never coming fully awake. As soon as her head rested on the small pillow, both hands went back to the same position beneath one cheek.

Nate smoothed her hair back and brushed the dark wisps away from her face. He lifted her heavy braid and placed it carefully along the outside of the sleeping bag. The texture of her slightly damp hair surprised him. It wasn’t coarse at all, but heavy and soft, like warm velvet. It made him think of a mongrel puppy he’d had as a kid, of the hours spent petting her velvety ears. Somehow, it wasn’t easy to reconcile the sweet, lovable puppy with this strong, independent woman.

Then again, that puppy had sharp teeth. And a bark that was definitely worse than her bite. Probably, Nate suspected, a lot like Alex’s.

Nate listened to the rhythmic sound of her breathing. He wondered if he should tell her in the morning that she snored, and then decided that probably wasn’t a very good idea.

He sat a moment longer and watched her sleep. Gentle shadows cast by the light of the campfire played across her high cheekbones and dark eyebrows. He studied her finely cut features, the full curve of her lips and the strong line of her jaw. Alex’s eyes might be the blue of the ocean in sunlight, but her Indian heritage was strong.

There was something else about her he couldn’t define, an indescribable combination of earthiness and sensuality that was almost palpable, as if that facet of her, hidden during daylight by her quick temper and abrasive nature, had escaped tonight and become a third person in the small tent. Of their own volition, Nate’s fingers brushed along the curve of her shoulder, touching warmth through the worn sweatshirt, wanting to reach beneath the fabric and cup the softness of her breast. Instead, he pulled the sleeping bag up to cover her and tugged the zipper a little higher.

She had worked so hard today, as if she had something to prove. Maybe she did—Nate was willing to give her that. Practically everyone had something to prove, if not to someone else, then to themselves. He’d be a fool to deny that aspect of anyone’s personality, especially since that same drive had cost him his marriage.

He wondered if Alex had been married. There was no wedding ring, not even a mark on her finger. In fact, she wore no jewelry at all except for the tiny silver studs that sparkled in both ears. Nate realized there was very little he actually knew about her, but he intended to make good use of the six weeks they had to find out whatever he could.

His feelings for Alex confused him, but he hesitated only slightly before he leaned over her and gently placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. Then he quietly crawled out of the tent, zipping the flap shut behind him.

Alex awoke once during the night, vaguely aware she was wearing her heavy sweats and was much too warm in the down bag.

She tried to push the edge of the sleeping bag back but it was zipped all the way to her chin. She always slept with it unzipped. She tried to remember coming to bed, but there was nothing there. How had she gotten in here? Why was she wearing all her clothes?

It was too confusing to figure out in the middle of the night, so she unzipped the bag and crawled out on top, falling asleep again amid tangled dreamlike images of Nathan Murdock and the vague memory of his gentle kiss.

The morning chill woke her before full daylight. She grimaced in pain as she rolled over and tried to sit up. Her back and shoulders felt as if they’d been tied in knots and her legs refused to straighten out. She wanted to crawl back into her sleeping bag and wallow in her misery a moment longer, but nature was calling and she really didn’t want to meet Nate at the latrine. It was bad enough when she’d caught him naked at his bath.

She hadn’t wanted to think about that yesterday, at least not once they’d started working, but the vision of him standing tall and muscled in the woods with the woodland creek tumbling wildly behind him had intruded off and on all day.

It returned full force this morning.

Nate could have come from another time, with his broad, tanned chest and the thick auburn hair curling down to his wide shoulders. His muscular arms and powerful legs made it easy to picture him as a gladiator or other ancient warrior. Later he’d worn his hair tied back with a leather strap with a thick curl protruding beneath his climbing helmet, but the first time Alex had seen him—at least when she’d gotten a good look at his face—his hair had been hanging loose and thick.

How would it feel? Probably heavy against her hands, but soft, too, like silk. She thought of him stalking back up the trail, back stiff and flip-flops flapping, the towel pulled tightly around his lean hips.

He’d had such a tight grip on the towel in front, she figured he really had no idea how great he looked in back. Stifling a giggle, wondering why her thoughts were leading her in this direction, Alex quickly slipped on her boots and headed for the latrine.

When Nate awoke, it was to the sound of movement outside his tent. He lay still, enjoying a moment of pure male pleasure at the thought of Alex fixing his breakfast.

He’d thought of Alex most of the night, imagined her sleeping just a few feet away, wrapped in the safety of her own tent.

The scent of freshly made coffee finally lured him out of bed, and he grunted a quick “good morning” as he headed for the creek to shave. He hadn’t shaved yesterday, not after their unusual introduction after his bath, and the heavy stubble was beginning to itch. He hated to admit that another reason for shaving was the fact parts of his beard were beginning to come in gray, even though the hair on his head remained dark.

Vanity, thy name is man, too.
Why should he care what Alex thought of him?

When he returned to camp, Alex nodded toward the food she’d left out. Cereal, granola, and some of the fresh fruit the helicopter pilot had brought in with Alex. “You cooking?”

She laughed, shrugged, and pointed. “Just add water. I got it out.”

“You made coffee.”

“That I did.” She held up her cup in a quiet salute.

Nate grabbed a couple of granola bars and a banana. She’d gone quiet, but it was a companionable silence. He decided Alex wasn’t any more of a morning person than he was. The sun was barely over the ridge to the east by the time they finished eating and cleaning up. Nate stored the food in a bear-proof locker while Alex dragged out her large bundle of climbing gear, preparing her equipment for the day’s work.

Nate shook his head. “I don’t think we’re going to need that stuff today.”

She sat back on her haunches, an expectant look on her face.

Nathan rubbed the base of his neck, feeling the overworked muscles from the previous day’s climb, and explained the change in plans. “What I really want to do is hike around to the back side of the plateau. There used to be a fairly decent trail over there, an old road that the Forest Service no longer maintains. It should still be passable and beats trying to go straight through the woods. There’re a couple of things I want to check out. Besides,” he added, twisting his head to one side, working the sore muscles, “I don’t think my body could take another day of climbing quite so soon.”

“What do you think we’ll find up there?” Alex slipped inside her tent as she asked him. A moment later she was out again, wearing worn jeans instead of tights and carrying her hiking boots rather than the lighter-weight boots for rock climbing.

She’d changed out of her tight knit jersey and had on a faded yellow T-shirt, with a worn blue plaid flannel shirt tied around her waist by the long sleeves. If she turned just right, the dark centers of her nipples showed faintly through the cotton shirt.

Nate figured he’d better find somewhere else to look if he wanted to give her an intelligent answer. “I don’t know, but I have some ideas.” He reached into his bag and pulled out the notes and map he’d been working on the night before, then searched briefly in a side pocket before finding his glasses. “Part of the legend talks about a cave, but the reference is pretty obscure,” he said, slipping his glasses into place. “I thought we might just take a look around, see what we can find. I’ve only been up here once before, last summer when Roger and I found the petroglyphs.”

“Were you looking for them?” Alex leaned over his shoulder to see the map of rock carvings they’d studied on the cliff the day before.

“No, I’d completely forgotten the legend about the Spirit Walkers. At the time I found the glyphs I was just up here on vacation. Roger and I have been friends since school. Roger’s wife had gone to visit her mother, I had some time off, so we decided to do a little rock climbing. We get together whenever we can, and Roger only had a couple of free days. That’s why we decided to climb here, because it’s close to Weaverville, where he lives. Also because it’s such a unique piece of rock.” Nate glanced in the direction of the towering cliffs, then back at Alex.

“Anyway, we made the discovery purely by accident.”

“Tell me how you found them, Nate.” There was something different in her voice, something that made Nathan put the map down, take his glasses off, and turn to look directly into her eyes. “I just told you,” he said, waiting for her reaction, knowing that wasn’t the answer she wanted.

Alex returned Nate’s stare for a moment, then looked away. “You mentioned a sense of energy around the glyphs. Did you—” She paused a moment, then rubbed her arms as if she felt a chill. “Did you feel them?” she finally asked, turning back to Nate. “Did you feel them call you?”

Yes!
Nate wanted to shout. It wasn’t his imagination. “I felt something,” he finally said, trying to control the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, but he was thinking,
Alex feels it. She feels the energy too!

For a while he’d been certain he was losing his mind, especially when Roger had denied any sensation at all.

“Can you describe what you felt?” He could barely control himself. Damn, but if she’d noticed that same powerful connection . . . If so, Alex could validate what he suspected. Help give credence to what, until now, had been something he had no way to prove even to himself. “Were you actually touching the carvings, or did you just have to be close to them?”

“I felt something drawing me as soon as we started the climb yesterday. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t explain the sensation. I still can’t, only that it exists.” Frowning, she tilted her head and stared at him. Then she sighed. “When I took pictures of some of the glyphs the feeling was stronger. I thought it was just me, that I wanted to sense something because the glyphs are so beautiful. They look powerful, if that makes sense.”

“Did they frighten you at all?” Nate focused on her profile. She’d turned away so she could stare at the point where the carvings were, high on the face of the cliff.

Her sudden burst of laughter brightened his morning.

“Hardly,” she drawled, still chuckling. “It was a feeling like I couldn’t stay away, like I had to be up that cliff and looking for something really wonderful. And you know what?” She leaned over to tie the heavy laces on her boots. “They are wonderful. What’s really exciting is that I think I recognize them. I think I know what kind of petroglyphs they are.”

“You recognize them? But how? You’re a photographer, you’re—”

“I’m Mayan.” Alex straightened, smoothed her jeans along her lean legs, and then turned to face Nathan. She stood so proudly before him he felt as if he were in the presence of royalty.

“My mother was directly descended from the Maya. She was born on the Yucatan Peninsula. So was I. I never knew her, but what little I learned about her from my father made me curious to know more about my ancestors. I think the glyphs are a very ancient form of Mayan writing.”

“Can you read them? They can’t be Mayan. This is northern California, not Central America. They don’t belong here.” Of course, neither had the Anasazi, and that had been his first theory.

“You said they were Spirit Walkers,” Alex said, and Nate recognized the twinkle in her eyes as she teased him. “No,” she added, her voice filled with regret. “I can’t read them. I wish I could. Once we get a complete record, you should be able to find someone at the university to decipher them for you.”