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Chapter Thirteen
Jackson skidded to a stop as Isabel ripped open the door of the main office cottage. Spinning around, he faced the trucks barreling toward the woods. If they drove on the path, they’d rip through his dig site, potentially disturbing other buried artifacts. If they set up shop back there and actually started cutting and dragging trees out, who knew what damage they’d do to priceless items of the past?
He ran toward the trucks. At his right, he spotted his family sprinting toward him.
“What’s wrong, Jackson?” Donovan shouted.
“We need to stop them from going in there!” Jackson poured on more speed, his legs straining. He waved his arms, but he was too far away from any of the drivers to be noticed. His lungs burned, but he didn’t slow down. He’d throw his damn body on top of the dig site if he had to. He just needed to reach it in time.
The landscape changed to an uphill climb which the trucks navigated with ease. Jackson and apparently all his family members—plus Charlie who had joined the pack—were losing steam though. The gap between them and the trucks widened and in another few moments, those big ass tires would be tearing through his site.
Jackson let out a frustrated roar. Why hadn’t he checked that the loggers had been notified?
Because I was too busy playing with Isabel.
This was exactly why he usually focused solely on his work. Personal relationships were distracting and his genius only worked if it was completely concentrated on one thing. He’d been sitting on these artifacts longer than he normally would have too. In every other case, he’d be immediately all over a find, but he’d let his emotions fool him into thinking he had time to waste. Now the site would be compromised and who knew what irreplaceable artifacts would be ruined?
He pushed himself to make it up the hill, cursing over how he hadn’t treated this site like an official archaeological project. He’d acted more like a hobbyist, neglecting the steps—and speed—he’d normally use with such a discovery. He blamed Maplehaven. The town had made him feel too comfortable, too laid back, too hopeful he could have his work and his woman and now he was paying the price.
Before the trucks arrived at the dig site, all of them stopped, their engines idling. Jackson bent in half, his hands resting on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. His family came up around him, all of them breathing heavily and sweating.
“Can someone tell me why we ran as if we were being chased by hungry zombies?” Christian asked as he pulled up his T-shirt and used the bottom of it to mop his forehead.
“I found... some pieces... back there,” Jackson said, gasping and gesturing to the woods. “I think there could be more to find.” He sucked in a breath. “Eugene was supposed to call the loggers off, but with his health and everything, he must have forgotten.” He walked toward the pickup truck whose doors were open now.
Noah Williams got out of the driver’s side, a phone to his ear. Noah was a friend of the Henley family and worked for Brenton Sawmill, which was owned by the Brentons, another friend.
“Yeah, we’re stopped,” Noah said into the phone. “Oh... umm... yeah, I guess we could do another job we have over in Cheshire first, Eugene.” He nodded as he listened. “Okay, yeah. No problem. Bye.” He shoved his phone into his pocket then met Jackson, a hand extended. “Hey, man. Eugene told me you found something in these woods?”
“I did.” Jackson was still winded, but his heartbeat was slowly returning to normal. He shook Noah’s hand. “I thought you were going to plow right through it.”
“We nearly did.” After greeting the rest of the Henleys and Charlie, Noah turned to face the trucks and waved his arms above his head. All the engines shut off and workers climbed out of the trucks. When they’d made their way over, Noah said, “Change of plans, people. We’re going to do that job in Cheshire instead. We’ll come back here when Eugene contacts us.”
The majority of the workers accepted these orders and headed back for the trucks. The guy who had exited the empty tractor trailer, however, lingered for a moment.
“You have a question, Evan?” Noah asked, his stance widening.
Evan scanned Jackson and his family behind him then rested his gaze on Noah. “Just need the address for the Cheshire job.”
“I’ll send it in a minute,” Noah said.
Evan gave Jackson another unpleasant look then returned to his truck as Noah faced Jackson again.
“What’s his prob?” Charlie asked.
“He’s always in a bad mood,” Noah said. “I think he spends too much time with logs and not enough time being hugged.”
“I get why he’s peeved,” Jackson said. “Time is money for you guys and we’ve wasted your time by having you come out here only to turn you away.”
“No worries,” Noah said. “We’ve got another job that’s not that far away and we need the exact same equipment. It’s an easy swap.” He arrowed a thumb to the woods. “Good luck with whatever treasures you find in there.”
“Thanks so much, Noah.” Jackson shook his friend’s hand again.
Noah chatted with the rest of the Henleys and Charlie for a few minutes then he signaled to his team to roll out. He lowered his window as he drove past them and gave them a final wave.
“That was close,” Landon said.
“Too damn close.” Jackson rubbed his forehead. “I nearly lost precious pieces of history to a parade of wide-load trucks.”
