LC 02 - Questionable Remains (15 page)

The Indians were relentless and completely fearless in battle. If
battles could be won on courage and strength alone, they would
have won most of the engagements with de Soto. But battles are won by superior weapons and strategy, and the Indians had neither against the Spanish. Conquistadores on horseback with steel
swords were simply too powerful. If Piaquay would listen,
Roberto could tell him how to defeat Calderon when they met, but
he knew Piaquay would not listen to him. Roberto would have to
take his own revenge.

The war party trailed Calderon and his men. Roberto was
amazed that they had found his trail so easily after so many weeks.
But Roberto knew that Calderon was probably ignorant of how
many hunting parties saw his passing, of how the animals fled
when the noisy Spaniards made their way through the forest, of
how much destruction of foliage was left in the wake of their passing, or how they really only had to follow horse droppings.

They traveled swiftly. Roberto was tired; he wished they would
stop and rest. The Indians were quiet when they traveled, another
wonder for Roberto. They continually cuffed him on the shoulder
for making noise. And every time he stepped on a stick and broke
it, they made him carry the thing until the end of the day. After a
while Roberto learned not to step on twigs.

When they stopped to camp, a young novice warrior prepared
meals for Piaquay and the other braves. Roberto had to prepare his
own food. He didn't mind. He was used to taking care of himself.
He watched his captors closely, trying to learn their woodcraft,
but frankly, there was much of their behavior he didn't understand-like why they never sat on the ground, but on logs or
rocks, and never leaned against anything, whether sitting or
standing. Maybe it has something to do with not being able
to be tracked, he thought. Even though he didn't understand the
reasons, he imitated their behavior. Roberto wanted to escape. He
wanted revenge against Calderon as much as the Indians did, but
he did not want to throw in his lot completely with Piaquay.
Roberto knew Piaquay's villagers hated him and blamed him for
the deaths of their families, as they hated and blamed all
Spaniards. They would kill him if that damn crystal Piaquay consulted every morning told them to. Also, Roberto only wanted
revenge against Calderon, not against all of his countrymen.

They stopped finally and quickly prepared camp. Piaquay usually lit afire with coals from his village that he carried in a small
clay pot in a wooden pack on his back. In this pack Piaquay also
carried his crystal and other spiritual things. When they made
camp, as usual he constructed a pedestal of rocks on which the
wooden pack rested when he was not carrying it. But this time
Piaquay did not build afire.

Neither Piaquay nor the others had made any effort to teach
Roberto their language. What he knew of it lie had picked up on
his own, but he understood that the reason they stopped now was
that they had caught up with Calderon.

Piaquay took the crystal from his bundle. It was a large, long,
clear, six-sided crystal with doe skin wrapped around the end that
he held. Piaquay sat on a log and looked into the crystal and sang
a chant to himself.

"They are going to leave soon," he told his brother. "I will go to
their camp. You stay with the others."

Roberto approached Piaquay. "Quiero venir," lie said. "I want
to see the bastard."

"No," said Piaquay. "You make too much noise."

Roberto knew that arguing would be useless. He watched
Piaquay go silently through the woods, quickly disappearing in
the thick growth.

Piaquay peered at his enemy from the cover of the forest. They
were making preparations to break camp. Roberto told him that
they would probably try to find the Spaniard Pardo. Roberto
called this Calderon his enemy, too. That was good, but Piaquay
still didn't trust Roberto completely. It was hard to change from a
bear to a wolf. Piaquay would follow the Spaniards. Like a ghost,
he would curse their travels until they met up with Pardo. An idea
was forming in Piaquay's mind. He knew the Spaniard Pardo
would be going to Chilhaxul if Roberto was right. When Calderon
met up with this Pardo, Piaquay would take the short way to the
land of the Chilhaxuls.

Agent McKinley's word was good. He or a ranger checked
in on the archaeology crew every day. On Lindsay's last day
he introduced Cal Barnett, a retired policeman and history
buff, who was delighted to become a member of the crew.

"I appreciate this," said Jane.

"It's just a precaution," said McKinley. "I don't expect
any trouble."

"But just the same," said Alan, "we'll feel safer."

"You leaving, Dr. Chamberlain?" he asked, looking at the
backpack sitting at her feet.

"Yes, I'm moving on to another site."

"Keep in touch," he said, and Jane raised her eyebrows at
Lindsay.

"I will," she said. McKinley left on his motorbike.

Alan's test for Lyme disease came back positive, and he
was on a regimen of tetracycline. It sapped his energy, so he
said good-bye to Lindsay at the site and didn't try the fourmile hike down to the parking area and back.

"Take care," he said, giving her a hug and a kiss on the
cheek.

"You, too. Get plenty of rest."

Jane and Jim walked with her to the Land Rover. When
they reached the vehicles, Lindsay put her backpack in the
backseat and turned to Jane.

"Do you think we could have a dig next time where no
one gets killed?" said Jim. "I'm having a hard time explaining to my folks that archaeology is a safe and wholesome
occupation." They laughed.

"You guys take care," she said. She climbed into her
Rover and drove off, watching them in her rearview mirror
as they waved good-bye to her. Jim had his arm around
Jane's shoulders. Lindsay had thought that Jane was dating
Alan. She smiled at the sight of them, glad for a reason to smile, to offset the sense of dread that was beginning to
gnaw at her stomach. Her vacation was not turning out the
way she had planned.

Lindsay drove to Chattanooga and stopped at a motel.
She could have driven on, but she was tired and was not
sure she would continue her vacation as planned. The death
of Gil Harris bothered her. Coincidences happen every day,
true, but-but, that was it, that "but, what if," that kept
gnawing at her.

Lindsay showered first, washing the residue of more than
a week's digging and inadequate sponge baths down the
drain. With a towel around her body and another around
her head, she sat on the bed and called Derrick.

"Lindsay," he said, when he heard her voice, "I just heard
about what happened at the site. How are you?"

"Fine. I'm a little worried about the crew at Jane's site.
The Park Service did arrange for a retired policeman to stay
with them."

"A policeman? The news said it was an accident."

"It may have been. But there's a chance he was murdered."

"What? Do they know who or why?"

"No." Lindsay told him about the Lamberts' request that
she look into the death of Grace Lambert's brother. Then she
told him about the conversation she had with Gil Harris
before he died. "I don't know if they are connected. But I
want to find out. I thought I'd come to your site a few days
later than I originally planned, after I make a visit to the
authorities in Ellis County, Tennessee, where Ken Darnell
was found dead, and also pay a visit to Ken Darnell's wife."

The silence on the other end of the phone was more deafening than if Derrick were yelling at her.

"Derrick?" she said after several moments.

"What do you want me to say?" His voice was calm and
even.

"That you understand."

"I can't do that. I don't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've been looking forward to seeing you. I
thought you wanted to see me, too."

"I do."

"Lindsay, you're not a detective. People bring you bones,
you identify them and give them a report. Better yet, stop the
forensic thing and just be a plain ordinary archaeologist."

Lindsay smiled to herself. "Some people want me to stop
doing that, too."

"Who?" Derrick asked. Lindsay explained about John
West and his family. "Poor baby." Derrick's voice was softer. "Getting it from all sides, aren't you-and having a death
at the site. I shouldn't argue with you over the phone. I'm
sorry."

"You're right. I'll come see you first."

"No. This business will only be on your mind. Just be
careful."

Lindsay's eyes started to tear over. She didn't know why,
perhaps just a delayed reaction from the events of the recent
past. "Derrick, I miss you," she said, hoping he could not
hear the tears in her voice.

He did. "Are you okay?" he said.

"Yes. I miss talking with you."

Derrick hesitated before he spoke. "We're talking now."

"No, we're not. Not the way we used to."

"Things have changed between us. We love each other."

"Does that mean we can't be friends?" she said.

"I thought it meant we were better friends."

"Then trust me," she said.

"I do, Lindsay. I do."

"Then love me for who I am. You used to."

"I still do. The stakes are higher. I'll deal with it," he said.

Lindsay wanted to tell him about five-year-old Marilee.
She started to, but then, she wasn't sure what that had to do
with anything. Lindsay wanted to find out what happened to Marilee's uncle so that there would be no mysteries in
Marilee's family and her mother could get about the job of
raising her with no sad, dark, suspicious clouds hanging in
the distance. She was being fanciful. At one time Derrick
would have understood that.

"Lindsay?"

"I'm here. It has to do with a little girl I met," she blurted. "I want to do it for her. I know that sounds silly "

"No. I understand."

The old Derrick was back, the one who understood her
without her saying anything. Lindsay wiped her eyes, and
she told him about Jane's site and conquistadores camping,
resting up from a battle, cooking domestic pigs, and losing
their axes in the woods. When they said good-bye, she felt
better.

When Lindsay was born, her family expected that she
would be another celestial body in her family's scholarly
galaxy, so she had a lifetime of expectations that she would
be nothing less than stellar. The pressure they applied was
gentle because it did not occur to them that she would be
less than what was expected, and they assumed it had not
occurred to her either. However, gentle pressure over many
years still had force behind it. Lindsay wondered if that was
why she resisted serious relationships. She wanted no
expectations of her other than that she would be herself and
she would decide who that was.

Lindsay looked at the time. It was early enough to call
Susan and check on things at home. She dialed her number.
A man answered.

"Dr. Chamberlain's residence."

Lindsay was taken aback for a moment. "This is Lindsay
Chamberlain. Is Susan there?"

"Oh, Dr. Chamberlain, this is Paul Gitten, Susan's brother."

"Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's fine. She moved Mandrake to her place. He's
fine. She told me to tell you not to worry. There's been a few reporters and some trespassers, and she just wanted to get
Mandrake out of the way. You know, in case anyone left the
gate open or anything like that."

"I see." Though Lindsay was not sure she did. "It must
have been serious for Susan to be worried."

"Not serious, just several minor incidents. Judd, you
remember my brother Judd?" Lindsay said she did. "He
and I wanted to do a little fishing, so we're keeping an eye
on the place. Susan didn't want it left alone."

Susan was very conscientious, one reason Lindsay liked to
have her look after her place. She knew how to see to things.

"I hope this isn't an inconvenience for you and your
brother."

"No, not at all. Like I say, we wanted to do a little quiet
fishing. Don't worry about anything here. Judd and I can
take care of anything."

"By trespassers, what exactly do you mean?"

"She heard things at night, like someone creeping around
the outside of the house. You know Susan. She has no imagination, so there was somebody there." Lindsay smiled to
herself at Paul's description of his sister. It made her wish
she had a better relationship with her own brother.

"Did they do anything?"

"Nothing much. Didn't get a chance. We think it was
some of Denny Fergurson's relations. They're all riled over
him getting convicted and having to run off. They're badmouthing you pretty bad."

"Yes, but they've been doing that all along. Do you think
it may be Denny himself?"

"No, I imagine with a death penalty hanging over his
head, so to speak, he's hightailed it out of the state. His
whole family has always been no good. They look for
excuses to harass people. Right now, you're it. It'll blow
over. In the meantime, while you're gone, we'll take good
care of your place."