Miss Greenhorn Read Free Page B

me,” Christy said with a jaunty smile.
    She sat down alone at a table, picking at her food, while the much older Professor Adamson and his wife Nell smiled politely as they passed and went to their own table. The others drifted in one at a time, yawning and looking dragged out. George noticed Christy sitting alone and made a beeline for her.
    â€œWhat a beautiful morning.” He grinned as he sat down with a disgustingly full plate and proceeded to eat every bite. “I never get this hungry back in Wichita. Great food, isn’t it? You’re not eating,” he added with a frown.
    â€œI’m so hot,” she said and smiled at him. “I’ll get used to the climate in a day or so.”
    â€œLots to do today,” he murmured between bites. “Mason’s going to use the laptop to match the pottery fragments we’ve found so far. He spent the night writing a program for it.”
    â€œComputers make me nervous,” Christy confessed. “We have one at school that we’re teaching our second-graders to use, and I’m terrified of it.”
    â€œYou should see Mr. Lang’s,” he confided. “He’s got one of those mainframe jobs—you know, the kind that cost twenty grand or so. He uses it to keep his cattle records on, and he’s got some great graphic software that he uses in his mining work. What a setup!”
    â€œHe must be pretty smart,” she said.
    â€œSmart doesn’t cover it. The man’s a wizard, they say. A couple of the gang tried to beat him at chess last night. Talk about ego problems…he could checkmate the best of them in three moves or less.”
    â€œI’m glad I don’t play chess.”
    â€œWell, I wish I didn’t,” he said with a grin. “Eat up. Time’s awasting.”
    They went out to the dig in the equipment truck again, and Christy settled down to another day of sifting through sand to find pottery fragments.
    She was sitting in the shade of the truck with a soft drink from the cooler at lunchtime when the Jeep roared up. Nathanial Lang climbed out of it, still wearing his suit, and looked around the relaxed camp until he located Christy. He studied her from a distance for one long minute and then went and said something to Professor Adamson before he came to join her.
    â€œYou’re alone,” he remarked, going down on one knee beside her. “Did George die?”
    She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”
    â€œI’m going into Tucson for some supplies I ordered. Come with me.”
    Her heart jumped into her throat. “Are you sure you aren’t mistaking me for someone else?” she asked, staring into his eyes at point-blank range. “You walked past me as if you hated the very sight of me not five hours ago.”
    â€œI did, but that was five hours ago,” he said pleasantly. “I’ve checked you out with the professor. He says you can go.”
    â€œI’m not a library book that you can check out… Mr. Lang!”
    He’d pulled her up by one hand with apparent ease and she was protesting on the run. He lifted her by the waist, soft drink and all, and put her inside the Jeep, smiling a little as he noticed her attire. Long khaki walking shorts and high beige socks in saddle oxfords, with a lemon cotton shirt that buttoned up and a yellow tank top under that. She’d tied a jaunty yellow-and-white scarf around the band of her hat and she looked very trendy with her long silvery blond hair falling down around her shoulders.
    â€œYou look like a teenager,” he said, grinning.
    She smiled back, shocked by his attention when she’d given up on ever getting it. “Thank you,” she said, feeling and sounding shy.
    He let go of her, shut the door, and got in beside her. “Hold on,” he instructed as he started the Jeep and put it in gear.
    It shot off like a gray bullet, bouncing her from one side to