p&c.thunderhead-第4节

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agement　country：　federal　land　that；　in　effect；　nobody　had　any　use　for。　Nora　had　a　good　idea　of　what　the　area　was　like：　slickrock　sandstone　country；　bisected　by　a　diagonal…trending　maze　of　deep　canyons　and　escarpments；　sheer　walls；　and　barren　scabland。　
　It　was　into　this　desolate　triangle；　sixteen　years　before；　that　her　father　had　disappeared。　
　She　remembered　with　painful　vividness　how；　as　a　twelve…year…old；　she　had　pleaded　to　go　along　with　the　searchers。　But　her　mother　had　given　a　brusque；　dry…eyed　refusal。　And　so　she　spent　two　tormented　weeks；　listening　for　news　on　the　radio　and　poring　over　topographical　maps。　Maps　just　like　this　one。　But　no　trace　was　ever　found。　Then　her　mother　instituted　proceedings　to　have　him　declared　legally　dead。　And　Nora　had　never　looked　at　a　map　of　the　area　since。　
　Another　deep　breath。　This　would　be　the　hard　part。　Making　sure　her　back　was　to　Owen　Smalls；　Nora　slid　two　fingers　into　her　jacket　and　removed　the　letter…the　letter　she　had　never　allowed　from　her　person　since　she　found　it；　just　nightmarish　hours　before。　
　The　envelope　was　discolored　and　brittle；　addressed　faintly　in　pencil。　And　there；　as　she　had　in　the　glow　of　the　headlights　the　previous　night；　she　read　the　name　of　her　mother；　dead　six　months；　and　the　address　of　the　ranch　that　had　been　abandoned　for　five　years。　Slowly；　almost　unwillingly；　she　moved　her　gaze　to　the　return　address。　PADRAIC　KELLY；　it　confirmed　in　the　generous；　loopy　hand　she　remembered　so　well。　Somewhere　west　of　the　Kaiparowits。　
　A　letter　from　her　dead　father　to　her　dead　mother；　written　and　stamped　sixteen　years　ago。　
　Slowly　and　carefully；　in　the　fluorescent　silence　of　the　Map　Vault；　she　removed　the　three　sheets　of　yellowed　paper　from　the　envelope　and　smoothed　them　beside　the　maps；　shielding　them　from　Small's　view　with　her　body。　Again；　she　glanced　at　the　strangest　things　of　all：　the　fresh　postmark　and　POSTAGE　DUE　stamp；　showing　the　letter　had　been　mailed　from　Escalante；　Utah；　only　five　weeks　before。　
　She　brushed　her　fingers　along　the　soiled　paper；　over　the　red　POSTAGE　DUE　notice　and　the　badly　faded　ten…cent　stamp。　The　envelope　looked　as　if　it　had　been　wet；　and　then　dried。　Perhaps　it　had　been　found　floating　in　Lake　Powell；　swept　down　the　canyons　in　one　of　the　flash　floods　the　area　was　famous　for。　
　For　perhaps　the　hundredth　time　since　she　first　read　the　letter　the　night　before；　she　found　herself　forced　to　squash　a　surge　of　hope。　There　was　no　way　her　father　could　still　be　alive。　Obviously；　somebody　had　found　the　letter　and　mailed　it。　
　But　who？　And　why？　
　And；　more　frighteningly：　was　this　the　letter　the　creatures　in　the　abandoned　ranch　house　were　after？　
　She　swallowed；　throat　painfully　dry。　It　had　to　be；　there　was　no　other　answer。　
　A　loud　squeak　shattered　the　silence　as　Smalls　shifted　in　his　chair。　Nora　started；　then　slipped　the　envelope　beneath　the　nearest　map。　She　turned　to　the　letter。　
　Thursday；　August　2　（I　think）；　1983　
　　
　Dearest　Liz；　
　Although　I'm　a　hundred　miles　from　the　nearest　post　office；　I　couldn't　wait　to　write　you　any　longer。　I'll　mail　this　first　thing　when　I　hit　civilization。　Better　yet；　maybe　I'll　hand…deliver　it；　and　a　lot　more　besides。　
　I　know　you　think　I've　been　a　bad　husband　and　father；　and　maybe　you're　right。　But　please；　please　read　this　letter　through。　I　know　I've　said　it　before；　but　now　I　can　promise　you　that　everything　will　change。　We　will　be　together　again；　Nora　and　Skip　will　have　their　father　back。　And　we　will　be　rich。　I　know；　I　know。　But；　dear　heart；　this　time　it's　for　real。　I'm　about　to　enter　the　lost　city　of　Quivira。　
　Remember　Nora's　school　report　on　Coronado；　and　his　search　for　Quivira；　the　fabled　city　of　gold？　I　helped　her　with　the　research。　I　read　the　reports；　the　legends　of　some　Pueblo　Indian　tribes。　And　I　got　to　thinking。　What　if　all　the　stories　Coronado　heard　were　true？　Look　at　Homer's　Troy…archaeology　is　full　of　legends　that　have　turned　out　to　be　fact。　Maybe　there　was　a　real　city　out　there；　untouched；　containing　a　fabulous　treasure　of　gold　and　silver。　I　found　some　interesting　documents　that　gave　an　unexpected　hint。　And　I　came　out　here。　
　I　didn't　really　expect　to　find　anything。　You　know　me；　always　dreaming。　But；　Liz；　I　did　find　it。　
　Nora　turned　to　the　second　page；　the　crucial　page。　The　writing　grew　choppy；　as　if　her　father　had　grown　breathless　with　excitement　and　could　barely　take　the　time　to　scribble　the　words。　
　ing　east　from　Old　Paria；　I　hit　Hardscrabble　Wash　past　Ramey's　Hole。　I'm　not　sure　which　side　canyon　I　took…on　a　whim；　mostly…maybe　it　was　Muleshoe。　There　I　found　the　ghostly　trace　of　an　ancient　Anasazi　road；　and　I　followed　it。　It　was　faint；　fainter　even　than　the　roads　to　Chaco　Canyon。　
　Nora　glanced　at　the　maps。　Locating　Old　Paria　beside　the　Paria　River；　she　began　sweeping　the　nearby　canyon　country　with　her　eyes。　There　were　dozens　of　washes　and　small　canyons；　many　unnamed。　After　a　few　minutes　her　heart　leaped：　there　was　Hardscrabble；　a　short　wash　that　ran　into　Scoop　Canyon。　Scanning　the　area　quickly；　she　found　Ramey's　Hole；　a　large　circular　depression　cut　by　a　bend　in　the　wash。　
　It　went　northeast。　It　exited　Muleshoe　Canyon；　I'm　not　exactly　sure　where；　on　an　old　trail　pecked　into　the　sandstone；　and　I　crossed　maybe　three　more　canyons　in　the　same　way；　following　ancient　trails。　I　wish　I　had　paid　more　attention；　but　I　was　so　excited　and　it　was　getting　late。　
　Nora　traced　an　imaginary　line　northeast　from　Ramey's　Hole；　still　following　Muleshoe。　Where　had　the　trail　jumped　out　of　the　canyon？　She　took　a　guess　and　counted　three　canyons　over。　This　brought　her　to　an　unnamed　canyon；　very　narrow　and　deep。　
　I　traveled　the　next　day　upcanyon；　veering　northwest；　sometimes　losing　the　trail；　sometimes　finding　it　again。　It　was　very　tough　going。　The　trail　jumped　to　the　next　canyon　through　a　kind　of　gap。　This；　Liz；　was　where　I　got　lost。　
　Breathing　quickly；　Nora　traced　the　unnamed　canyon；　traveling　across　a　corner　of　the　next　map　and　into　a　third；　miles　of　deadly　desert　travel　for　every　inch　her　finger　moved。　How　far　would　he　have　gone　that　day？　There　was　no　way　of　knowing　until　she　saw　the　canyon　herself。　And　where　was　this　gap？　
　Her　finger　came　to　a　stop　amid　a　welter　of　canyons；　spread　over　almost　a　thousand　square　miles。　Frustration　welled　within　her。　The　directions　in　the　letter　were　so　vague；　he　could　have　gone　anywhere。　
　The　canyon　split；　and　split　again；　God　knows　how　many　times。　Two　days　I　went　up。　This　is　unbelievably　remote　canyon　country；　Liz；　and　when　you're　in　the　bottom　of　a　canyon　you　can't　see　any　landmarks　to　orient　yourself。　It's　almost　like　hiking　in　a　tunnel。　Despite　the　maddening　twists　and　turns；　it　somehow　had　the　feel　of　an　Anasazi　road　to　me。　But　only　when　I　reached　what　I　call　the　Devil's　Backbone；　and　the　slot　canyon　beyond；　was　I　sure。　
　She　turned　to　the　final　page。　
　You　see；　I've　found　the　city。　I　know　it。　There　is　a　damn　good　reason　why　it　remained　unknown；　when　you　see　how　fiendishly　they　hid　it。　The　slot　canyon　led　to　a　very　deep；　secret　canyon　beyond。　There's　a　hand…and…toe　trail　leading　up　the　rock　face　here　to　what　must　be　a　hidden　alcove　in　the　cliffs。　It's　weathered；　but　I　can　still　see　signs　of　use。　I've　seen　trails　like　this　below　cliff　dwellings　at　Mesa　Verde　and　Betatakin；　and　I'm　certain　this　one　also　leads　to　a　cliff　dwelling；　and　a　big　one。　I'd　try　the　trail　now；　but　it's　exceptionally　steep　and　growing　dark。　If　I　can　make　it　up　the　face　without　technical　climbing　gear；　I'll　try　to　reach　the　city　tomorrow。　
　I　have　enough　food　for　a　few　more　days；　and　there　is　water　here；　thank　God。　I　believe　I　must　be　the　first　human　being　in　this　canyon　in　eight　hundred　years。　
　It　is　all　yours　if　you　want　it。　The　divorce　can　be　reversed　and　the　clock　turned　back。　All　that　is　past。　I　just　want　my　family。　
　My　darling　Liz；　I　love　you　so　much。　Kiss　Nora　and　Skip　a　million　times　for　me。　
　　
　Pat　
　That　was　it。　
　Nora　carefully　slipped　the　letter　back　into　its　envelope。　It　took　longer　than　it　should　have；　and　she　realized　her　hands　were　shaking。　
　She　sat　back；　filled　with　conflicting　feelings。　She　had　always　known　her　father　was　a　pothunter　of　sorts；　but　it　shamed　her　that　he　would　consider　looting　such　an　extraordinary　ruin　for　his　own　private　gain。　
　And　yet　she　knew　her　father　wasn't　a　greedy　man。　He　had　little　interest　in　money。　What　he　loved　was　the　hunt。　And　he　had　loved　her　and　Skip；　more　than　anything　else　in　the　world。　She　was　sure　of　that；　despite　everything　her　mother　had　said。　
　She　gazed　once　again　over　the　expanse　of　maps。　If　the　ruin　was　really　as　important　as　he　made　out；　it　must　also　be　unknown。　Because　she　could　see　from　the　maps　that　nothing　remotely　like　it　had　been　marked。　The　closest　human　habitation　seemed　to　be　an　extremely　remote　Indian　village；　marked　NANKOWEAP；　that　was　at　least　several　days'　journey　away　at　the　far　edge　of　the　tangle　of　canyons。　According　to　the　map；　there　weren't　even　any　roads　to　the　village；　just　a　pack　trail。　
　The　archaeologist　in　her　felt　a　surge　of　excitement。　Finding　Quivira　would　be　a　way　to　vindicate　her　father's　life；　and　it　would　also　be　a　way　to　learn；　finally；　what　had　happened　to　him。　And；　she　thought　a　little　ruefully；　it　wouldn't　hurt　her　career；　either。　
　She　sat　up。　It　was　clearly　i