Buried Secrets Kristi Belcamino (uplifting novels .txt) 📖

off that feeling of being a lonely, chubby girl and stepped into the shower. She was a bad ass. She was a strong, powerful, intelligent woman. She had nothing to prove.

But in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but think what all those girls who ignored her in school would think of her now. What would they think when they saw her face on magazine covers lauding her as the woman who discovered Cleopatra’s tomb?

Within thirty minutes, they were both downstairs in front of the hotel with wet hair waiting for Abet and their driver.

An hour later, they were helping their new crew of ten local men unpack gear at the dig site.

Dallas was already sweating and it was only eight in the morning. She wished she could wear her signature shorts instead of loose khakis and a loose long-sleeve blouse, but she knew the sun in Egypt was brutal. Plus, she knew the shorts would garner unnecessary attention from the crew whom she already caught staring at her a few times. Oh well. She’d show them she wasn’t some prissy woman from the States. She’d work alongside them just as hard and just as long.

Even though it seemed counterintuitive, the more covered up she was, the cooler she’d remain. Why the men wore man dresses, she thought and then giggled imagining Colton in one. He’d look hot. He’d look hot in anything.

Maybe she should see if women could wear them.

By ten, Dallas had mapped out and staked off the area she thought most promising for them to dig. It was still a rather large area. She needed to narrow it down even more.

“It looks like they did some excavation here before,” Abet said, pointing to a spot about three feet away.

“Yes. But this one seems to line up with where the Isis constellation would have been at the time of Cleopatra’s death,” she said. “In ancient Greece, Isis was part of Sirius and part of the Egyptian holy trinity of Isis, Osiris and their son Horus.”

He nodded.

The foreman, a man with broad shoulders and a hooked nose named Eban, handed her the small pick axe. “You make the first shovel.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Before she struck the ground, Dallas looked up at the sky squinting and withdrew the ankh on its leather strap from under her blouse. Holding it between her fingers she closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she believed in God. But she said a prayer to whatever or whoever might be there to help her find the tomb. Just in case.

Without a word, she leaned over and scooped up the first shovel full of dirt.

The crew whooped around her and then started digging on their own.

Dallas couldn’t decide which spot to stay at so she took turns between the two groups. The heat was stifling. Sweat dripped off her brow in a never-ending stream. The digging was slow going.

Unearthing artifacts was a marathon, not a sprint.

Everything had to be done excruciatingly slow and methodical. Well, excruciatingly slow to Dallas. The men seemed used to it and did not appear to be in a hurry.

Shortly after lunch, Dallas heard shouting over at the dig site near the pile of rubble. A group of men surrounded another man in a gray turban who was red-faced and cowering. The other men were pointing at him and yelling. Eban grabbed the man by the arm and jerked him onto the ground.

Dallas shot Colton an alarmed look and without a word they both ran over.

Breaking through the circle, Dallas shouted, nearly out of breath. “Stop. Stop. What is going on?”

Abet was at her side, huffing and puffing from his own run over.

“Let me talk to them.”

Dallas exhaled loudly and nodded, backing out of the circle. Colton took her arm. “What’s going on?”

“Abet’s going to find out.”

They stepped back from the circle. She couldn’t understand what they were saying since it was in Arabic. All Dallas knew was that all these men were angry. And that the man in the middle was Dallas he wasn’t being stoned. It seemed that tense.

After a few minutes the circle parted and Eban and Abet emerged, each holding tight to the man in the gray turban’s forearms.

When Dallas met the man’s eyes she saw sheer terror.

It sent fear spiking through her. Her mouth was dry and when she swallowed it seemed like a lump was stuck in her throat. What the hell was going on.

“Ms. Jones, this man was caught attempting to smuggle an artifact. Another man saw him put it in his pocket. Under Egyptian law, he faces a prison term with hard labor and a fine of up to $50,000 pounds.”

Dallas, for once, was speechless.

Eban handed her a small ceramic statue covered in dirt. He placed it in Dallas’s palm.

She glanced down and her breath caught in her throat. It was a statue of a cat. It was about the size of a bottle of nail polish and was broken, missing its tail. Even broken it was a valuable and exciting find. The man closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“What do you have to say for yourself,” Abet said, prodding the man.

The man looked up and spoke to Dallas without taking his eyes off her.

Abet translated. “He says he is very sorry. Please forgive him. His oldest daughter needs surgery. Otherwise she may die. He was going to sell anything he found here at the temple. He took this job so he could smuggle artifacts. He said he has no excuse. His intention all along was to be a thief. His daughter’s surgery will cost $8,000 pounds.”

Dallas’s heart went out to the man. She held the man’s gaze as she spoke and Abet translated.

“Tell him he will be driven back to town immediately by my driver. He is no longer employed at this dig site.”

She paused. The man nodded and spoke.

“He wants to know if you are taking him to the police station.”

Dallas shook her head. “No.”

The man dropped to his