p&c.thunderhead-第34部分

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y　her　father　had　discovered。　And　with　this　certainty　came　another　thought；　awful　in　its　suddenness。　Was　the　place　terrible　as　well　as　beautiful？　Would　she　find　her　father's　remains　somewhere　down　there　on　the　canyon　floor；　or　hidden　among　the　ledges　above？　
　But　as　quickly　as　it　had　e；　the　feeling　dissipated。　Somebody　had　found　and　mailed　his　letter。　That　in　itself　was　a　mystery；　which　gnawed　at　her　constantly。　But　at　least　it　meant　that；　wherever　her　father's　bones　lay；　they　probably　lay　somewhere　else；　closer　to　civilization。　Still；　it　was　several　moments　before　she　followed　Sloane　to　the　flat　sandy　benchland；　girded　with　rocks；　well　above　the　flash　flood　zone。　A　small　grove　of　cottonwoods　provided　shade。　
　〃How's　this　for　a　campsite？〃　Sloane　asked；　dropping　her　pack。　
　〃Couldn't　be　more　perfect；〃　Nora　replied。　She　unshouldered　her　own　pack；　pulled　out　her　soggy　sleeping　bag；　shook　it　out；　and　draped　it　over　a　bush。　
　Then　her　eyes　turned　ineluctably　back　toward　the　towering　cliffs　that　surrounded　them　on　four　sides。　Pulling　the　waterproof　binoculars　from　her　pack；　she　began　scanning　the　rock　faces。　The　sandstone　cliffs　rose　in　steplike　fashion　from　the　canyon　floor：　sheer　pitches；　interrupted　by　benchlands　of　softer　strata　that　had　eroded　back　to　form　flat　areas。　Near　the　far　end　of　the　valley；　a　large　rockfall　had　dropped　a　pitched　tangle　of　house…sized　boulders　that　lay　in　a　precarious　jumble　against　the　cliff　face。　But　the　rockfall　led　up　to　nothing；　and　there　was　no　sign　in　the　valley　of　a　trail；　a　ruin；　anything。　
　She　shook　off　the　sudden　cold　feeling　in　her　gut；　reminding　herself　that　if　the　ruined　city　was　obvious；　it　would　have　been　found。　Any　caves　or　alcoves　formed　in　those　benches　above　could　not　be　seen　from　below。　It　was　precisely　the　kind　of　spot　favored　by　the　Anasazi。　
　Her　father；　however；　had　seen　a　clear　hand…and…toe　trail。　Her　eyes　again　swept　the　lower　rock　faces；　searching　for　the　telltale　signs　of　a　trail。　She　saw　nothing　but　smooth　faces　of　red　sandstone。　
　Nora　glanced　around　for　Sloane。　The　woman　had　already　abandoned　her　scrutiny　of　the　walls　and　was　walking　along　the　base　of　the　cliffs；　peering　intently　at　the　ground。　Looking　for　potsherds　or　flint　chips；　Nora　thought　approvingly：　always　a　good　way　to　locate　a　hidden　ruin　above。　Every　fifty　feet；　Sloane　would　stop　and　squint　up　the　cliff　faces　at　an　oblique　angle；　looking　for　the　telltale　shallow　notches　that　would　signify　a　trail。　
　Nora　shoved　her　binoculars　into　her　damp　jeans　and　walked　along　the　cutbanks　and　rock　shelves　above　the　stream；　examining　the　soil　profile　for　any　cultural　evidence。　She　knew　they　should　be　using　the　last　of　the　light　to　build　a　fire　and　prepare　dinner。　But；　like　Sloane；　she　felt　pelled　to　keep　searching。　
　It　was　the　work　of　ten　minutes　to　reach　the　opposite　side　of　the　valley。　Here；　the　stream　disappeared　into　another　slot　canyon；　much　narrower　even　than　the　one　they　had　crawled　through。　Narrow　stone　benches　crawled　up　the　red　walls　on　either　side；　and　from　the　gorge　below　came　the　sound　of　falling　water。　Carefully；　she　crept　up　to　its　edge。　Water　fell　from　the　valley　in　a　long　stream。　A　plume　of　mist　rose　from　where　it　struck　the　rocks　below；　filling　the　end　of　the　canyon　with　a　watery　veil　she　could　barely　see　through。　A　small　microclimate　had　developed；　and　the　rocks　were　thickly　covered　with　moss　and　ferns。　She　knew　from　the　maps；　though；　that　the　stream　ran　on　through　a　series　of　descending　waterfalls　and　pools；　each　separated　by　twenty　or　thirty　feet　of　overhanging　rock。　It　would　be　impossible　to　descend　without　a　highly　technical　climb；　and　in　any　case　at　its　bottom　the　slot　seemed　too　narrow　to　admit　a　human　being。　But　there　would　be　no　point　even　in　trying：　as　the　maps　indicated；　the　stream　ran　in　this　impassable　fashion　for　sixteen　miles；　until　it　spilled　off　the　North　Rim　of　Marble　Gorge　and　dropped　a　thousand　feet　to　the　Colorado　River。　Anyone　caught　in　a　flash　flood　and　pushed　into　this　canyon　would　emerge　at　the　Colorado　just　so　much　ground　beef。　
　She　moved　on；　pausing　at　the　large　rockfall。　It　was　cool　in　the　shadow　of　the　cliffs；　and　she　shivered　slightly。　The　rockfall；　with　its　dark　holes　and　hidden　spaces　between　the　huge　boulders；　looked　like　a　lair　of　ghosts。　It　appeared　too　unstable　to　climb。　And；　in　any　case；　the　cliff　face　behind　it　was　sheer　and　unmarked　by　toeholds。　
　She　worked　her　way　back　up　the　other　side　of　the　creek　and　encountered　Sloane；　who　had　finished　her　own　survey。　The　almond　eyes　had　lost　some　of　their　brilliance。　
　〃Any　luck？〃　Nora　asked。　
　Sloane　shook　her　head。　〃I'm　having　trouble　believing　there　was　a　city　here。　I　haven't　found　anything。〃　
　For　once；　the　trademark　smile　was　missing；　and　she　seemed　agitated；　almost　angry。　This　city　is　as　important　to　her　as　it　is　to　me；　Nora　thought。　
　〃The　Anasazi　never　built　a　road　to　nowhere；〃　Nora　replied。　〃There's　got　to　be　something　here。〃　
　〃Perhaps；〃　Sloane　said　slowly；　peering　again　at　the　cliff　faces　surrounding　them。　〃But　if　I　hadn't　seen　those　radar　images　and　the　hogback　ridge；　I'd　have　a　hard　time　believing　we've　been　following　any　sort　of　road　at　all　the　last　two　days。〃　
　The　sun　had　now　dipped　low　enough　to　bring　creeping　shadows　across　the　valley　floor。　〃Look；　Sloane；〃　Nora　said。　〃We　haven't　even　begun　to　examine　this　valley。　We'll　spend　tomorrow　morning　making　a　careful　survey。　And　if　we　still　don't　find　anything；　we'll　bring　the　proton　magnetometer　in　and　scan　for　structures　beneath　the　sand。〃　
　Sloane　was　still　looking　intently　up　at　the　cliffs；　as　if　demanding　they　give　up　their　secrets。　Then　she　looked　at　Nora；　and　gave　a　slow　smile。　〃Maybe　you're　right；〃　she　said。　〃Let's　get　a　fire　going　and　see　if　we　can　dry　out　these　bags。〃　
　After　she　had　scooped　out　a　shallow　firepit　and　built　a　ring　of　stones；　Nora　sat　by　the　fire　and　changed　the　damp　bandages　on　her　fingers。　The　sleeping　bags　began　to　steam　slightly　in　the　heat。　
　〃What　do　you　suppose　Bonarotti　put　in　those　care　packages？〃　Sloane　asked　as　she　piled　more　logs　on　the　fire。　
　〃Let's　find　out。〃　Nora　retrieved　a　pot　from　her　daypack；　then　grabbed　the　small　packet　Bonarotti　had　thrust　into　her　hand。　She　unwrapped　it　curiously。　Inside　were　two　Ziploc　bags；　still　dry；　one　containing　what　looked　like　tiny　pasta　and　the　other　a　mix　of　herbs。　ADD　TO　BOILING　WATER　AND　COOK　SEVEN　MINUTES　was　written　on　the　first　bag　in　black　Magic　Marker；　REMOVE　FROM　HEAT；　DRAIN；　ADD　THIS　MIXTURE　was　written　on　the　second。　
　Ten　minutes　later；　they　pulled　the　simmering　mixture　from　the　fire；　drained　off　the　water；　and　added　the　second　packet。　Instantly；　a　wonderful　aroma　rose　from　the　pot。　
　〃Couscous　with　savory　herbs；〃　Sloane　whispered。　〃Isn't　Bonarotti　a　prince？〃　
　From　the　couscous；　they　moved　on　to　Sloane's　dish…lentils　with　sun…dried　vegetables　in　a　curried　beef　broth…then　cleared　away　the　dishes。　Nora　shook　her　bag　out　and　laid　it　in　the　soft　sand；　close　to　the　fire。　Then；　stripping　off　most　of　her　wet　clothes；　she　climbed　in　and　lay　back；　breathing　the　clean　air　of　the　canyon；　gazing　at　the　dome　of　stars　overhead。　Despite　the　words　of　encouragement　she'd　given　Sloane…despite　the　remarkable　meal…Nora　couldn't　entirely　escape　a　private　fear　of　her　own。　
　〃So　what'll　we　find　tomorrow；　Nora？〃　Sloane's　husky　voice；　surprisingly　close　in　the　near　darkness；　echoed　her　own　thoughts。　
　Nora　sat　up　on　one　shoulder　and　glanced　over。　Sloane　was　sitting　cross…legged　on　her　sleeping　bag；　bing　her　hair。　Her　jeans　were　drying　on　a　nearby　limb；　and　an　oversized　shirt　spilled　across　her　bare　knees。　The　flickering　light　threw　her　wide　cheekbones　into　sharp　relief；　giving　her　beautiful　face　a　mysterious；　exotic　look。　
　〃I　don't　know；〃　Nora　replied。　〃What　do　you　think　we'll　find？〃　
　〃Quivira；〃　came　the　reply；　almost　whispered。　
　〃You　didn't　seem　so　sure　an　hour　ago。〃　
　Sloane　shrugged。　〃Oh；　it'll　be　here；〃　she　said。　〃My　father　is　never　wrong。〃　
　The　woman's　face　wore　its　trademark　lazy　smile；　but　something　in　her　voice　told　Nora　it　wasn't　entirely　a　joke。　
　〃So　tell　me　about　your　father；〃　Sloane　went　on。　
　Nora　took　a　long　breath。　〃Well；　the　truth　is；　from　the　outside　he　was　a　traditional　Irish　screwup。　He　drank　too　much。　He　always　had　schemes　and　plans。　He　hated　real　work。　But　you　know　what？〃　She　looked　up　at　Sloane。　〃He　was　the　best　father　anyone　could　have　had。　He　loved　us。　He　told　us　he　loved　us　ten　times　a　day。　It　was　the　first　thing　he　said　to　us　in　the　morning　and　the　last　thing　at　night。　He　was　the　kindest　person　I　ever　knew。　He　took　us　on　almost　all　of　his　adventures。　We　went　everywhere　with　him；　looking　for　lost　ruins；　digging　for　treasure；　scouring　old　battlegrounds　with　metal　detectors。　Nowadays；　the　archaeologist　in　me　is　horrified　at　what　we　used　to　do。　We　packed　horses　into　the　Superstition　Mountains　trying　to　find　the　Lost　Dutchman　Mine；　we　spent　a　summer　in　the　Gila　Wilderness　looking　for　the　Adams　diggings…that　sort　of　thing。　I'm　amazed　we　survived。　My　mother　couldn't　stand　it；　and　she　eventually　took　steps　to　divorce　him。　As　a　way　to　win　her　back；　he　went　off　to　discover　Quivira。　And　we　never　heard　from　him　again…until　this　old　letter　arrived。　But　he's　the　reason　I　became　an　archaeologist。〃　
　〃You　think　he　could　still　be　alive？〃　
　〃No；〃　said　Nora。　〃That's　out　of　the　question。　He　would　never　have　abandoned　us　like　that。〃　
　She　breathed　the　fragrant　night　air　as　silence　settled　into　the　canyon。　〃You　have　a　pretty　remarkable　father　yourself；〃　she　went　on　at　last。　
　A　thin　trace　of　light　suddenly　lanced　across　the　dark　sky。　〃Shooting　star；〃　Sloane　said。　She　was　silent　for　a　moment。　〃You　said　the　same　thing；　back　on　the　trail。　I　suppose　it's　true。　He　is　a　remarkable　father。　And　he　expects　me　to　be　an　even　more　remarkable　daughter。〃　
　〃How　so？〃　
　Sloane　continued　to　stare　at　the　sky。　〃I　guess　you　could　say　he's　one　of　those　fathers　who　holds　his　child　to　an　almost　impossible　standard。　I　was　always　made　to　perform；　to　measure　up。　I　was　only　allowed　to　bring　home　friends　who　could　carry　on　an　intellectual　discussion　at　the　dinner　table。　But　nothing　I　did　was　ever　good　enough；　and　even　now　he　doesn't　trust　me　to　succeed。〃　
　She　shook　her　head。　〃I　still　remember　when　I　was　in　seventh　grade；　my　piano　teacher　made　all　us　students　at