“Ha! Classic Leah and her subtle motivational tools.”
“It got to the point where he’d show up just to avoid the embarrassment.” Garrett’s eyes opened wide. “Then an amazing thing happened. Juan took a liking to Native American Studies. He was captivated by Leah’s weekly lectures and slide presentations. The next thing you know, he’s one of her best students, following Leah all over the desert in search of her mysterious cliff dwellings. Last year he finished his master’s degree and teaches undergraduate Native American Studies at the local community college.”
“Now he spends all his free time risking life, limb and liberty for Leah.”
Garrett nodded. “He’s scared to death of heights and ropes, but completely devoted. Hard to imagine an odder crew of misfits: ninety pounds of fiery Irish archeologist, an old Navajo, and a Mexican-American ex-football player.” He glanced at the door. “We’d better get moving or she’s gonna come back in here loaded for bear.”
Jack stepped out into the restaurant parking lot and looked up. The stars shone so brightly, it almost appeared you could reach up and touch them. They cast a gentle glow against Sandia Ridge, which rose nearly 6,000 feet straight up on the north side of the city. Jack had spent many a summer day riding fast-rising thermals after launching his hang glider from a small wooden ramp at the top of the Sandia Ridge.
Leah waited for them, leaning against her jeep. “About time.”
“I’ve visited beautiful places around the world,” he said. “I’m still blown away by the beauty of a clear night in New Mexico.”
“You’d probably just get bored — like you did last time.” Leah drove in silence up to her small adobe house nestled at the base of Sandia Ridge. She pushed open the door and flipped on the lights and shivered.
“Remember how to start a fire, Climber?”
Leah ran up the stairway and disappeared into the master bedroom. Jack placed a mix of pine and paper in the wood stove. He lit the paper and fed in pieces of oak over the pine. In minutes he had a roaring fire.
“Not bad for a guy who warms his ass over a gas stove.”
Jack turned around; she stood on the stairs wearing black leggings and a cotton nightshirt, wiping her long auburn hair away from her face, with a hint of a grin.
“There’s a blanket beside the couch,” she said.
Leah stopped climbing the stairs and turned around. She watched as Jack pulled off his shirt and the light from the fire reflected off his rock-hard torso. She took in a deep breath and paused. Jack thought she was about to invite him to join her in the master bedroom. No such luck…. Probably for the best, he thought.
She turned around in the bedroom doorway. “Of course, if the couch is too soft,” she said with a chuckle and a wink, “you can always try the floor. Probably more like what you’re used to anyway.”
Jack nodded and reached for a Navajo blanket lying beside the couch.
His last thought before falling into a deep sleep was that the dwelling discovery might be more than it seemed. Complicated and, just maybe, even more treacherous than a climb up Everest.
CHAPTER 10
“Get a move on, Climber! You plan on sleeping away the entire day?”
Jack woke with a start as light streamed through the glass. The effects of three months on Everest and jet lag made him feel a bit unsteady. He limped toward the kitchen, where he smelled fresh coffee brewing.
He felt a tinge of vertigo and homesickness — not a welcome feeling, given the situation. Jack poured coffee into a white UNM cup and walked out onto the deck. He stood with his eyes closed, breathing the crisp, cool air for a moment.
“Shower’s all yours.” Leah studied his face. “Damn, you look like hell, Jackson.”
He rubbed at the thick, sunburned bags under his eyes. “Just what I needed to get the new day started.”
She tossed him a fresh towel. “Don’t forget to brush, if you’ve got any teeth left after all those months living like a pig on Everest with the rest of your buddies.”
Jack stepped into the shower and allowed the hot water to run down his back, hoping it might remove the taste and smell of Mt. Everest from his skin.
When he stepped out, Leah was already looking to leave. “Come on, Climber!” she shouted from outside the cabin’s front door.
He dressed, grabbed his backpack, tossed it in the back of the jeep, and managed to climb in just as Leah dropped the clutch and raced out the gravel driveway.
They pulled into Albuquerque’s Double Eagle II General Aviation Airport as Garrett finished a careful preflight on his fragile-looking airplane.
He looked up with a sly smile. “Did we sleep well?”
“Let’s see if you can coax this heap off the ground, one more time,” Leah said, stuffing her backpack into the storage compartment.
Garrett saluted while opening the passenger door. “Aye-aye, Skipper.”
Leah hesitated. “You want me in the back seat as usual, I suppose?”
“If it’s not too much of a bother; better for weight and balance.”
Jack strapped himself into the right seat. Up in the air, Garrett banked sharply, heading due west toward the New Mexico/Arizona border.
“What did we use before GPS?” Jack was checking out the Garmin Global Positioning System Garrett had slotted on his steering yoke.
“Something even better.” Garrett pointed down at the ground. “Interstate 40…”
Leah woke as Garrett reduced power on the Cessna and started a descent toward empty desert below. “Are we landing?” She stretched and looked out at the sand-and-rock landscape.
“Garrett says we’re running out of gas,” Jack deadpanned. “He’s praying we make it to the airport, but just in case, there’s a Kmart parking lot below, and they have a blue-light special on ham sandwiches.”
Garrett laughed as Leah flashed her middle finger between the two front seats. He pointed toward a deserted asphalt runway with a number of ancient hangars and a small house.
“I’m going to gas-up here before we turn south. The old man who runs the airport is a friend of mine. I like to drop in on him every now and then to make sure he’s okay.”
Just before they touched down, the loud squeal of the stall-warning buzzer sounded in the cockpit.
No matter how often Jack flew in small airplanes, he always jumped at the sound of the stall warning.
The main landing gear bumped, followed by the nose gear. Garrett pressed down on the brakes and quickly exited the runway by way of a taxiway leading toward an old military-style, Quonset hut.
Except for two worn-out-looking Cessna trainers, the tarmac was deserted. The trainers displayed a frayed “Rent Me!” sign on the propellers but clearly hadn’t moved for what looked like years.
The control tower, painted red and white, stood behind the Quonset hut. The steel girders were rusted and the ladder that led to the tower station had fallen free in several places.
“It’s an old army airfield left over from World War II,” Garrett said. “They trained bomber pilots here, so it’s plenty long. You could land a 747.” He brought the Cessna to a stop next to a single-pump refueling station and shut down the engine. “You two stretch your legs. We’re going to be here about twenty minutes.”
“Think they have any food?” Leah crawled out of the back seat and stepped onto the neglected tarmac.
“Doubt it.” Jack started toward the worn building with a sign saying Pilot’s Lounge hanging at an angle over the door. “Want to take a look inside?”
“I’m not standing out here in the sun.”
Jack pushed open the creaky door and peeked inside. It was dusty and the air tasted of leather and aviation fuel. A couple of ancient couches worn down to the springs faced each other. A faded white Formica counter cut off the room diagonally.