Mountain Moonlight (17 page)

"This is it," Bram declared after a few minutes study. "The end of the road."

"You mean the treasure is here?" Davis asked, looking around eagerly.

"As far as I can tell." Bram rolled the map back up
and handed it to Davis. "Better put this away before we go haring off to search."

Davis made the run to the saddlebag and back in record time.

"Listen up," Bram announced. "No splitting the search party. We three stick together at all times. Is that clear?"

No one objected.

"We'll start to the far left and search the outer areas in a clockwork rotation," he went on. "Don't any of you figure it's going to be easy to find whatever it is we're searching for. Look sharp."

They'd covered half the outer rim when Davis cried, "My foot hit something."

Bram knelt and dug around a metallic chunk with a small collapsible spade from his gear. Vala held her breath as he eased the object free. What was it?

"I'd say this is the broken-off end of a pick-ax," Bram announced. "Whether or not there's any gold here, somebody had a fling at digging for it."

Judging from the broken point of the pick-ax, which resembled some old relic, Vala figured the digger had been here a long time ago. She held out her hand and Bram gave her the piece of metal.

Vala intended to save it--just in case. If nothing else turned up, at least Davis would have a souvenir from the trip.

As they went on, they came to a mound of broken rocks. Glancing up, Vala saw the rocks had come from a shattered spire thrusting high above.

She noticed Bram follow her gaze. "Remember, the Superstitions are of volcanic origin," he said. "There are a couple of great cones down at the west end."

Davis made a sweeping gesture, "You mean a volcano made all this?"

Bram nodded. "A long time ago."

"Everything interesting happened before I was born," Davis complained. "Like the dinosaurs and all."

"Then I guess you'll just have to find something interesting to do with your life," Vala told her son.

"Like find the treasure," Davis said.

As they continued around the rim, Davis spotted what looked like it might be the opening to a mine, but it turned out to be no more than a shallow hole in the rock.

They finished the circle without finding anything else. "With our next clockwise sweep," Bram said, "try hard
to spot anything unusual."

He was saying this, Vala figured, because once they finished making the second, inner circle, there was no other place to search. Find it this time or it isn't here.

She hadn't allowed herself to really believe there'd be gold at the end of the journey, but she'd hoped all along she'd be proved wrong. Turning the broken piece of metal over in her hands, she resigned herself to this fragment being all they'd discover.

Near the center of the area rose a rounded dome-like formation with smaller rocks scattered around it and some larger ones on top. On the far side, a large pile of rocks suggested something had broken off at one time or another and slid down here in pieces.

A different colored rock caught Vala's eye, whitish instead of the red-brown prevailing color. Curious, she reached into the pile to try to pull it loose to examine it but found what she'd grasped was the small end of a large rock. Determined not to be thwarted, she gave a hard yank. Instead of the rock pulling free, the entire pile shifted and she jumped back to avoid the tumbling rocks. The noise brought Davis and Bram from the other side of the formation.

"I saw this rock I wanted to look at--" she began to explain before Davis cut her off.

"Look!" he cried, pointing. "There's a hole."

Vala eyed the long gap the falling rocks had revealed. Just a crevice--or something more?

It took the three of them almost an hour to shift enough of the rocks so Bram could shine his flashlight into the opening. Vala watched impatient Davis fidget when Bram continued to look inside, not moving or speaking.

"What's in there?" Davis finally demanded.

Bram pulled back and handed Davis the flashlight. "See for yourself."

Davis inched closer and shone the light inside the cavity. After a moment or two, he pulled his head out, his mouth drooping in disappointment. "Just some old pictures somebody drew on the rock in there."

Vala took the flashlight from him to discover what he was talking about. She was gazing in fascination at the strange drawings inside when she heard Bram say.

"Okay, Davis, I want you to use that smart brain of yours. What do those drawing remind you of?"

"Uh--nothing much. Sort of like a little kid's drawing."

"You're not thinking. Where have you seen drawings like that lately?"

Vala pulled her head out in time to see her son's face light up. "On the map!" he cried. "On Mokesh's map."

She nodded. They were very like.

"So what does that mean?" Bram persisted.

Looking at him, Vala realized there was something different about Bram, a sort of brightness in his face she hadn't noticed before.

"Mokesh said the map was made before his time," Davis said slowly. "So whoever made it lived way long ago. His Ndee ancestors, maybe." He reached up and tugged at his ear. "So those drawings in there have to be real old, too, don't they?"

Bram nodded. "They're called pictographs. Native Americans drew them in many places in this country. But no one is sure how old the drawings are. Sometimes these same symbols are found carved in rocks."

"Petroglyphs," Vala said, remembering a display she'd seen in a New York museum. She realized now that they'd found something of incredible value in these rock drawings. "Right," Bram said. "If Mokesh were alive, he'd tell us the Ndee found those pictographs when they settled around here a long time ago. He'd say people they call the Old Ones drew them."

"Who were the Old Ones?" Davis asked. "Mokesh told me they were here before the Ndee but he didn't explain except to say they were still here."

"He meant their spirits remain. No one knows who the Old Ones were. They left no trace of their presence in these parts except for the pictographs and petroglyphs."

"With the opening hidden by fallen rocks like it was," Vala put in, "we might be the first people to see those pictures since the Ndee found them."

"I'd say the Ndee covered the opening to keep the pictographs safe. That was no accidental rock fall." Bram spoke like he knew. "We'll all take one more look and then we're going to put the rocks back like we found them. This is a sacred place."

He spoke so solemnly he raised the hair on Vala's nape. Davis's expression was one of pure awe.

"Mokesh wanted me to see those pictures." Davis was almost whispering. "He gave me the map 'cause he wanted me to see the Old Ones' sacred place."

"I think you're right," Vala told her son.

No one complained about the hard work it took to replace the rocks so no vestige of the opening showed. As they finished, the sun came out for the first time since the rain of yesterday.

"See," Davis said. "
The
spirits are thanking us."

Vala decided not to correct him.

They rested and ate afterward in silence until Bram finally spoke. "Davis asked me once how I knew so much about the Ndee and I didn't answer. The truth is I'm Ndee and I've learned on this trip that there's no need to conceal what I am. There's never been any need, but I didn't understand until now."

"You're really Ndee? Honest and truly?" Davis could hardly contain his excitement.

"Half. But still Ndee. My father was a full-blood." The father he never mentioned when he was young, Vala thought. How wonderful Bram had opened his heart and embraced his heritage.

"I'm happy for you," she told him.

He looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled and nodded. "By following Mokesh's map, I found not only the pictographs but my own treasure."

"I wish I was Ndee," Davis said.

"You don't need to be," Bram told him. "Ancestry isn't important unless you're ashamed to admit to it. Then it's a stone hung around your neck."

"Yeah, but it'd be so cool to be a shaman, like Mokesh."

"Who said you had to be Native American to learn what the shamans know?"

Davis blinked, obviously thinking that one over.

Bram had been so good for Davis, Vala told herself. He encouraged the boy, praised him when he did a good job, told him he was smart and treated him like a friend. She could see the difference in her son in just this short time. Not that she didn't do all those things, but the problem was in Davis's eyes she was just Mom, the person who loved you no matter what. Bram didn't have to like him.

Bram was a man Davis could look up to and encouragement from him meant so much more than Mom's praise. She hoped some of it would stick with Davis when they returned to New York.

Davis had found worthwhile treasure, too, on this trip. He was beginning to discover he could be valued for himself. And Vala's treasure? She shook her head. She was the only hold-out in the group, unless she counted learning to ride a horse.

"Time to get started on the return trip," Bram announced. "Want to bet it'll take a lot less time going down than it did coming up?"

"Aw, everyone knows that," Davis scoffed. "Wanna bet I won't get lost and get stuck full of stickers on the way back?"

"I'd say that was a given," Vala told him.

"Will we get to stop and see Pauline?" Davis asked.

Bram shook his head. "We're taking the shortest way down so you guys will have time to make your return flight. We won't be anywhere near Pauline's."

Davis looked at Vala. "I almost forgot we have to go back to New York," he said.

"That's where home is." She meant her words to come out light and cheerful, but to her own ears her tone sounded forced.

No more warm days--at least not until spring. No more nights of sleeping under the stars. No more Bram.

"Arizona's more fun than New York," Davis complained.

"That's because we're on vacation," Vala said firmly. "Vacations are always more fun."

"I'll sure miss you, Bram." Davis spoke wistfully.

Vala held her breath hoping Davis wouldn't put Bram on the spot by asking an embarrassing question like was he going to come and see them. Of course he wasn't. She'd known that from the beginning.

"This was an exceptional trip all right," Bram said, noncommittally.

To Vala's great relief, Davis subsided.

By the time they camped that night, though, Davis had stocked up on questions.

"Is this something we can't ever talk about? I mean I know we have to keep the sacred place a secret forever and ever, but can I tell people I saw real pictographs?"

"No reason you can't," Bram said. "There are National Park sites where everyone's allowed to go and view the Old Ones' drawings."

"So if I just say somewhere in Arizona that's okay?" "Yup."

"I sure wish Mokesh was still alive so I could tell him."

"He knows."

Davis stared at Bram. "Do you really think so?"

"Yup."

Vala didn't see any reason for a reality check. After all, how could anyone be sure Mokesh, wherever he was, didn't know?

"Sometimes you sound just like in one of those old cowboy movies," Davis commented.

"I learned my yup and nope from Gary Cooper in one of those old westerns," Bram admitted. "The people I guide expect stuff like that and it gets to be a habit."

"It must be neat to guide people. You get to ride horses and camp out and all."

"Beats sitting in a office or in court," Bram said.

"You have to remember, though, that I always have another profession to fall back on if I had to. That's the important thing. Sometimes, to do what you enjoy doing, you need to have a back-up plan. I'm glad I went through law school-- learned a lot, made some good friends."

"I suppose."
Davis
didn't sound convinced.

"Take you, now," Bram went on. "A smart kid like you, you're college material. By the time you're old enough to go to college chances are you'll have a pretty good idea of what profession appeals the most to you."

"Being a guide sounds like more fun."

"Okay," Bram said, "but college first."

"You better believe it," Vala said to her son.

After Davis called it a night, Vala and Bram sat next to each other on his sleeping bag, close but not touching. Overhead, the waning moon scudded across the sky playing hide and seek with clouds.

"Thanks for giving Davis good advice," she said.

"I lucked onto it. My mother wanted me to go to college, partly because she never had. My father's advice tended to be more philosophical, in the vein of Joseph Campbell's 'Follow your bliss.'"

"Which you did."

He half-smiled. "No. I'm just starting to try to do that now."