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cast a mock grin. “I, for one, am going to dedicate myself to my job.”
    “Such bull.” Enrique howled.
    “You going to stay the night?” Jess shrugged.
    Enrique shook his head. “I’m flying home this evening.”
    Jess waved Enrique off and set out to find Autumn O’Neill.
    * * *
    What a morning , Autumn thought, as she hiked down the wash toward the saltbush where Arlo Ross and his team were unloading the mules. First Real Tall Man and now Arlo . It was unusual to see either relative, let alone talk to both on the same day.
    Grandfather had ridden in with Arlo. She wished Real Tall Man had stayed until Arlo and his cousins returned home later that afternoon. It would have given her more time to visit with him. She understood. But Real Tall Man rarely rode with his son anymore. Autumn knew he’d made the trip especially for her.
    Her feet sunk into the sandy wash as she dodged the assortment of ocher and yellow rock littering the creek bed. Near the saltbush, the mules nickered. The sun’s rays heated up the animals lending an earthy smell to the air.
    As she approached the three men beside the mules, she studied Arlo Ross. In attire, he reminded her of her grandfather. He wore a silver belt over his red flannel shirt and a battered Stetson. But similarities ended with a closer look at his features. The brown tints in his dark hair, the straight nose, high cheekbones, and thin lips reminded Autumn of the one photo she’d seen of her mother. They affirmed his Anglo heritage from Autumn’s grandmother, Emma Ross, the white schoolteacher Real Tall Man had married.
    Gravel crunched beneath Autumn’s shoes and Arlo looked up. With a wave of his hand he signaled the other two. They stared with stoic hardness. None stepped forward to extend a welcome or even to ask why she had come.
    “ Yaá át ééh , Uncle,” she greeted the tall man in the Navajo manner.
    He didn’t speak, but continued to glare.
    Bracing herself, she spoke again. “What do you have left to unpack?”
    He ignored her question and spoke with bitterness. “It is typical that the bilagáana digs up our sacred lands—again.”
    Autumn inwardly flinched at the hate in his voice when he said the word for white man. She refused to let him see that his tone had upset her.
    “The relics are priceless, Arlo Ross. They need to be recorded. That’s what the scientists are doing—nothing more.”
    She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t respond. Arlo was like Autumn’s mother in that he had renounced one of the cultures that was his heritage. The difference was that Dora had left The People and claimed her Anglo blood. Arlo hated anyone connected with the Anglo world.
    She wished Dr. Davidson had hired another outfit to pack in the equipment. “We’re doing everything we can to protect the site, Arlo.”
    “It proves you are not Dineh when you dig in the graves of the ancient ones,” he said.
    “And what about your part in this? I’m sure you’re enjoying the profits of this contract.” She gestured to the mules and gear.
    Instead of reacting defensively, her uncle grinned. There was nothing amiable about it. Cold glints of humorless mockery radiated from his eyes.
    “We do what must be done. The spirits will protect the home of the ancient ones, and they will haunt you and these people.”
    “That’s right. No harm will come to the ruins,” Autumn readily agreed. She ignored the threat.
    Grandfather’s words came to mind and she clasped the turquoise between her fingers. Arlo’s stare followed her gesture and hardened when he saw the nugget.
    “Go home, bilagáana . Go back to your family life in the city.”
    “Never. I’m as much máii deeshghizhnii , Arlo Ross, as you are. You can deny it all you want, but the fact remains. I’m here in the desert to stay.”
    “We shall see.” He effectively dismissed her when he motioned to the others and they turned their backs. The only sounds in the silent heat were the faint grunts as