WHAT ABOUT IT?” Nora said, after a moment.
“What about it? Looks like you all found yourselves some treasure.”
“It’s not treasure. These are artifacts, just like the bones, and they don’t belong to us. We found these coins on two of the victims—they were carrying them in their boots. We also found some gold jewelry and rings. No big deal.”
Burleson fixed her with his eye. His face was slightly flushed. “That doesn’t quite square with what I heard outside this tent a moment ago. Something about a thousand gold coins in a chest?”
“You were eavesdropping?” Nora asked.
“You were talking loudly enough for me to hear what you were saying.” Burleson paused. “Sounds like you’ve been keeping me in the dark—and I have a feeling it has to do with that gold right there in that tray.”
Nora reddened and tried to formulate an answer as she returned the coins to their plastic case. “I’m sorry we had to deceive you. The fact is, we knew from the outset that a chest containing a thousand gold coins might be hidden somewhere around here. But all we’ve found so far are these ten coins.”
“Then why the deception?”
“Not deception,” said Clive. “We were simply trying to keep sensitive information confidential.”
“So how much is it worth?” Burleson’s voice was getting louder. “This chest of gold you didn’t tell us about?”
Nora glanced at Clive. The cat was out of the bag. “About twenty million dollars—in numismatic value,” she said. “But none of it belongs to us. If the gold is found, it gets divided among the feds, the state of California, and the Institute. It’s written into our excavation permits—all legal and aboveboard.”
“Legal, maybe, but sure as hell not ‘aboveboard.’ You’ve kept us in the dark, and I for one don’t appreciate it. My people are on edge as it is, what with Peel riding off and all this wild talk of ghosts.”
“If they’re already on edge,” Nora said, “what do you think would happen if word got out that twenty million dollars in gold might be hidden up here?”
“There wouldn’t be a problem if you’d been up front from the beginning. You’ve been feeding us bullshit, Nora. You should have trusted me.”
“Hey, just take it easy,” said Clive, stepping forward. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
Burleson whirled on him. “No, you take it easy, mister. I’ve suspected something underhanded was going on here, and so has my team. Now we know what it is.”
“Maybe you should have kept better control of your ‘team,’ then, instead of letting one of them destroy a priceless archaeological site.”
Burleson stepped forward, fists clenched. “Why, you little turd.”
“I’m not fighting you, old man,” Clive said with a sarcastic laugh. He skipped back just as Burleson, now enraged, took a swing at him.
“Going to have to do better than that,” Clive said.
“Stop it!” Nora grabbed Burleson’s arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Teaching this shitbag a lesson.”
“You want to get charged with assault? You should know better!”
“Or is it your temper that got you in trouble and forced your abrupt career change?” Clive demanded.
Burleson stood there, breathing hard, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “What the devil are you talking about? How dare you!”
The sound of a galloping horse reached them, approaching quickly. All three froze. The thundering of hooves came right up to the tent, then the animal shivered to a halt with a loud blowing and stomping.
“What the hell?” Burleson swung around and strode out of the tent, Nora and Clive following.
It was Prince, Peel’s horse, terrified, eyes rolling. It pranced about in agitation, lathered up, the saddle turned over and hanging down, much battered. The animal was trailing his lead rope, which was frayed and caught up with brush. Burleson approached him, hand out, moving slowly and speaking in a soothing voice.
“Easy now, Prince. Easy. It’s all right.”
He approached the horse. It danced away a bit, ears flattened.
“Easy, there.”
He gently took up the dragging lead rope and followed it up to the horse’s head, stroking his neck. The horse began to calm down. Adelsky and Salazar watched from a distance. Working gently, Burleson undid the latigo of the saddle and let the saddle slip to the ground.
“This riderless horse—what does it mean?” Nora asked.
Burleson led the horse away without responding, his face still inflamed from the exchange. He stalked off toward the trees and down the path, leading the horse with one hand and carrying the saddle under his other arm.
There was a long silence. And then Clive said, “Guy’s got a frigging temper.”
“I suppose. But what did you expect? The fact is, we have been deceptive. And you egged him on. What was that business about his career change?”
“I just wonder how come a guy like that, making tons of money as a high-powered divorce lawyer, suddenly gives it all up for some horse ranch?”
“I’m worried about that horse and what it might mean for Peel. I hope he isn’t out there lost in the mountains.”
“His own damn fault,” said Clive.
Nora sighed. What had started out as a textbook-perfect archaeological dig was rapidly turning into a nightmare.