Free Heart Of Gold by Bird Jessica Page A

once more on Farrell’s mountain. She'd been so sure,
as she'd pulled away from the mansion days ago, that her first visit was going
to be her last.
    With a
final, deep inhale, she headed through the trees to search for Cort and found
him halfway between the big view and the circle of rocks. He was coming from
the opposite direction, duffle bags hanging off him like he was a bellman's
trolley. By the size of the mound that was already on the ground, she could
tell he'd made a lot of trips from wherever the four-wheeler had been parked.
    “I'm
almost finished.” He dropped his load. “I think this'll be the best
place for you to camp. There's a stream down to the right and you're close to
the site, but I can move these anywhere you like.”
    Carter
inspected the flat stretch of ground nestled in a protected glen of pines.
    “You
picked the perfect place.”
    Cort's
eyes lit up with pride. “I'll be right back.”
    While the
sounds of him walking through the woods diminished, Carter peeled off her pack
and surveyed the area. She was eager to get at the dig site but she knew she'd
appreciate having an established camp when night fell. By the time Cort came
back with the last bundles, she'd set up her tent and was gathering rocks to
make a secure fire pit. Even though she'd brought a butane-fueled hotplate and
a portable grill, the fire would be a welcome balm against cool evenings.
    Together,
she and Cort strung up two dark-green tarps, one to serve as the mess tent and
the other to cover the office area. Under each, they erected folding tables and
chairs and then consolidated the food hampers and her equipment appropriately.
The rest of the afternoon was spent unpacking and getting things ready for the
digging to start. As they worked, Cort was fascinated by the variety of
shovels, brushes, and lab like vials she'd brought up to the mountain.
    “What's
the coolest thing you've ever found?” he asked, inspecting a
wooden-handled trowel.
    Carter
looked up from the printer she was attaching to a portable generator.
    “I
don't really have a favorite. Everything is amazing to me. Sometimes I just sit
with a find in my hands, trying to imagine what life was like for a minuteman
in the colonial army or his wife and family. It's all just so astounding.”
    “Yeah,
sure. But what about gold statues and rubies and—”
    “You
mean the Indiana Jones stuff?”
    Cort
nodded with enthusiasm.
    “I
hate to crush your burgeoning interest in the field, but that's the movies.
Real archaeology is about painstaking, methodical work and slow, steady
progress. It's a lot of hard labor, and sometimes you come up with
nothing.” She grinned as his expression grew less fervent. “Don't
look so disappointed. We also don't have poison darts being shot at us and to
my knowledge no one's face has ever melted when they've taken the lid off
something they've dug up.”
    “So
you haven't uncovered any tombs or secret catacombs?”
    “Nope.
And I don't own any bullwhips or sharp-looking fedoras either. But I love what
I do.”
    “I
guess that's cool.” He glanced over her shoulder as she started unpacking
journals and books. “What's all this for?”
    “Daily
logs for recording each digger's work and forms for describing any finds. Some
reference materials, mapping paper to sketch out the site. We've also got the
requisite cross-referencing papers to document the relationship between and
among the finds. Here's a copy of Farnsworth's journal.”
    Cort took
it and flipped through the pages, not reading them.
    She held
up another book, regarding it curiously. “And this is a Fodor's guide to Budapest, although how it got in here I have no idea.”
    “I
didn't think there'd be so much stuff that looks like homework,” he
muttered.
    “We
don't call the office tent Papercut Central because it's a barrel of
laughs.”
    Cort
grinned. “So who else is on your team?”
    “Buddy
Swift and his daughter, Ellie. I'll bet you two will get along.