Lovely in Her Bones Read Online Free Page B

Paleo-Indian cultures were the words “Mary Clare” written over and over.
    “Excuse me, ma’am. Are you waiting to see the professor?”
    Tessa looked up, wondering what her expression had been. The man was not a student. He was tanned and wiry, nearing forty, with a head so bald that he must have shaved it. He had the sort of brown eyes that can express feelings, and at the moment his were radiating concern for this distraught stranger he’d found in the hallway. He might be one of Alex’s colleagues, Tessa realized. Whoever he was, he was waiting to see Alex, and he would be listening outside while she said whatever she was going to say to her husband.
    “You feeling all right?” he asked gently.
    She forced herself to meet the man’s eyes. “I—I got an F,” Tessa stammered, and fled.
        Alex Lerche blinked at the visitor who sat on the other side of his desk toying with a Sioux buffalo-jawknife. People usually commented on the fur and beadwork on the hilt, but the bald man in the khaki jumpsuit was running his fingers along the iron blade with an expression of cheerful inquiry.
    “Wouldn’t be a bad hunting knife, but I’d hate to have to take it into combat.”
    “Combat?” Lerche considered it. “I don’t think the Sioux-”
    The visitor smiled. “I was talking about Nam. Spent a couple of years there in Special Forces. I was acquainted with a couple of Indians over there, and nary a one of us carried one of these.”
    “You’re interested in Indians, Mr. … er …”
    “Comfrey Stecoah. Reckon I am interested in Indians, seeing as how I am one. I’m looking for Dr. Lurch. Might you be him?”
    “It’s pronounced Lair-ka,” the professor murmured. The correction was automatic. “It’s a Danish name. And you say
you’re
an Indian?”
    “Uh-huh,” he grinned, reading the thought on Lerche’s face. He did not look like most people’s conception of an Indian, and he knew it. He was tanned, but not as dark as many of the Southwestern Indians; his features included a nose too broad to fit the stereotype, and—since he was shaved bald—his hair was a matter for speculation. “I came to see you because I hear you’re an expert on Indian cultures.”
    “I have done some work with Plains Indian cultures,” said Lerche cautiously. “What would you like to know?”
    “It’s not a question of knowing. It’s a question of proving. I know your work involved the Indians out west, but you’re the closest thing we got to an expert in these parts, so you’ll have to do.”
    Lerche smiled in spite of himself. “What, exactly, will I have to do?”
    “My people want you to conduct an archaeological expedition on our land. Well, that is, it
should
be our land—to help us win our case.”
    Lerche sighed. “Could you start at the beginning before I get any more confused?”
    Stecoah grinned. “Sure. It’s like I said, my people—”
    “Stop right there! Now, start with that. Who are your people?”
    “The Cullowhees. We’re an Eastern Indian tribe up in the Appalachian Mountains. It’s a couple of hours’ drive from here. You ever heard tell of us?”
    Lerche hesitated. “I’ve heard of the Cherokees,” he offered.
    Stecoah sighed. “Who hasn’t? Well, we’re not them and they don’t need your help. They got their craft shop and their outdoor drama, and—oh, hell, who am I to knock that? I wish we had a deal like that.”
    “The—Cullowhees, did you say?”
    “Yeah, we’re a right small group. Less than a thousand folks, all living in the same little valley. But we don’t have any tribal recognition from the U.S. government, and we don’t have any tribal land. That’s where you come in. We need some help from an outside expert to help us get a land grant from old Uncle Sam.”
    Lerche tapped his fingertips together as he considered the matter. “I guess it could be done,” he said finally. “If you get me some tapes of your tribal language and some samples of