Shadows 01 Superstition Shadows by K C West

Author:K C West [West, K C]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Google: ol0DAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0975573969
Goodreads: 299705
Published: 2013-09-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

I lay in my sleeping bag trying to concentrate on the night sky. My mind though had other ideas. It kept returning to my Amazons. They weren’t really mine, of course, even though I’d like to keep them that way. All too soon they’d belong to the world of academia. Their lives would be dissected. Disagreements would arise between archaeologists, anthropologists, and historians, some of whom would refuse to believe that Amazons existed at all. I sighed and shifted to ease an aching hip. The women had rested in silence for centuries, until I had come along and disturbed their repose. What had happened to the cold, hard scientist in me, the archaeologist who believed all things are better revealed?

Westermeyer had taken longer than I had expected to get back to me, to return the skulls to their resting place. But I managed, thanks to PJ, to refrain from calling him, bugging him.

“I know you’re worried about your Amazons,” she had said, “but no one knows better than you that it takes time.”

“I know… it’s just that…”

“And it’s not like we don’t have plenty to do here.”

I smiled. You’ve come a long way, baby.

Finally, Doctor Westermeyer called to say that he would return to the site on the Monday before Thanksgiving.

Sandy and Mike assisted Westermeyer in carrying the precious bundles back from the trailhead to the site and replacing them in the cave where I felt they belonged. As soon as they arrived on site, I gathered the rest of the crew together in the tent so that they could hear his report first hand.

I made room on the table for Westermeyer to spread out his reports. I gave him the one good folding chair. PJ and I sat on our battered, aluminum framed, camp chairs; the others either sat on the floor or stood. Sandy and Mike followed the scientist into the tent and placed two boxes on the table.

“Samuel, I thought you returned the skulls to the cave,” I said, nodding toward the sealed boxes.

Westermeyer raised his hand. “I did.” He stared hard at me a moment before scanning the assembled crew, waiting, I thought, for the right moment to begin his command performance. I smiled to myself. Oh, Samuel, I always knew you had a flair for the dramatic.

The group was silent, a rarity. The mood was solemn. The clearing of collective throats reminded me of my childhood, when I was forced every Sunday to wear a frilly little dress and go to church. It had amused my child’s mind that the clearing of congregational throats was a necessary prelude to the singing of praises. Gawd, where did that come from?

First, Westermeyer took the dagger from a padded envelope and handed it to me. I held it for a few moments, feeling the heft of it before handing it to PJ.

“It’s of Greek manufacture,” Westermeyer said, after what he had deemed an appropriate pause. “The engravings are what are believed, at least in myth, to be Amazon.

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