Chapter Thirteen
Ominous storm clouds darkened the sky. Moments later, rushing water echoed off the limestone overhang protecting panther shaman as curtains of rain splashed over the ledge, coating Ghost Canyon beneath them in life-giving moisture.
Rose yanked out her camera while her students set aside their work to watch the fluke storm insulate the sky from the sun. “Interesting.” Of all the weeks Rose had spent working here, not once had it rained while she was on-site. To see how the rock shelter stayed shielded from the elements firsthand added insight into how the people who’d lived here millennia ago had been protected.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the canyon in wavering brightness, followed by a sonic crack of thunder.
“Doctor R!” Kelsey yelped. “What’s happening? I’m going to freak!”
“Everyone, stay calm and stay put,” Rose said, taking out her notebook to jot reminders of how water flowed away from the site. “Hunter, mind coming back from the ledge? I’d hate for the lightning to mistake you for a rod,” she added, seeing him in her periphery.
“Hard-headed,” Meg quipped at his expense.
Amid the ensuing chuckling, Hunter peered over the edge of the rock shelter anyway, then squinted up into the sky as the sound of rattling reverberated around them, like smatterings of echoing BBs. He yanked his head back in. Small pellets rained down, turning the atmosphere hazy.
“Jeezus! It’s freaking hailing! It’s, like, two hundred degrees outside. What do we do?” he asked. “How do we get back to camp?”
“We wait it out,” Rose replied as concern for the campsite skittered through her.
“God, we’re gonna die,” murmured Kelsey, rubbing her bare arms. “Tarantulas, hailstorms. What I wouldn’t give to be at my parents’ beach spa with a Cape Cod in hand right about now.”
“Are we all right out here?” Meg asked.
“Yup,” Rose replied, stuffing her notes back into her pack. “Safer than if we were in our campers because sometimes the hail gets bigger. These storms never last long. It’ll pass over soon. Let’s pack up. It’s almost quitting time anyway.”
Almost time to go see the pottery. And Toby. Excitement at the prospect had kept her motivated all day. What an unexpected treat to discover that the pot hadn’t been looted after all.
The wind blew the sheets of rain in torrential waves. Was their campsite okay? The university might’ve had insurance on the vans, but she was a far cry from being able to afford repairs to her camper. They sat down along the demarcated path, surrounded by dirt and excavation units, and as quickly as the gully washer had blown in, it blew out again.
Sun brightened the expanse of sky once more, heating up the rocks, and the tail of the storm moved eastward until it was small in the distance.
“Mother Nature is cray,” remarked Hunter.
Rose shook her head and laughed. But after these rare and blessed storms, the strawberry pitayas would bloom bright pink and the cacti would pop with color, hungry for water. It was always so beautiful.
“Let’s get back to the site and make sure everything’s all right. The wind was pretty intense and might have knocked down our extension cords.”
As they climbed out of the canyon toward the site, Rose’s cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She ignored it for the moment as she and Howie dispersed to inspect the campers, ensuring all power hookups were in working order, while Meg and the others took note of the camping chairs still sitting upright around the fire ring as if the storm had circumvented their one little spot.
“Not a single extension cord down or chair blown over. Kind of amazing,” Howie muttered, eying her.
It was amazing. But the way in which Howie was looking at her wasn’t—now that Toby had put it in her mind that Howie still liked her. That, and he hadn’t exactly been endearing these past couple days.
The other students hauled their gear to their doors, and Howie frowned.
“Mister Dixon was gone a while last night after he came down to check on you,” he said.
Ugh. Rose’s jaw tightened. Why did Howie care? His jealousy of Toby was growing irritating. Nothing she was doing was interfering with her work. Why couldn’t he leave her alone about it? She raised her eyebrows as if to ask, And?, not trusting herself to speak.
“So…do you want to ride into Fort Stockton with me?” he asked. “I want to get a few supplies and thought we could, you know, hang out on the ride. Like we used to.”
What was he, a friend—after arguing with the landowner and implying that she was crossing a line with him? Not that she’d admit that she was sort of crossing a line.
“No, I can’t. Gotta catch up on some research.” And change the subject, Rosalinda. She smiled. “But yes, miraculously, everything seems fine. Let’s break for lunch. I’m ravenous.”
His frown intensified—no, it was a scowl. Was he mad that she’d said no? That she was putting him off? Did he feel spurned in the face of Toby’s unabashed interest in her?
“Rose, I—”