Page 38 of Priceless
“The wordcairnmeans a mound of stones, built as a memorial of some sort. These are believed to have been built for the dead—and for the sun.”
He hurried around the car to open my door, took my hand to help me out, then let go and walked beside me as we passed through the gate. Beneath massive trees was a field with so many stones it looked like a graveyard. Beyond it was a fence and a field with cattle on the other side.
There were a number of stone circles, like miniature Stonehenges. When we got closer, we could see lichen crawling across the rocks’ surfaces like pale but colorful maps. At the far end, mounds of rock rose like small hills, their surfaces rough, their age impossible to guess.
I asked him, “How old?”
“Four thousand years,” he said. “Before Rome thought about us. Long before Denver saw white people.” He pointed toward the far end. “At the winter solstice, the sun lines straight through the entrance of those two.”
We wandered separately for a long time, reading plaques and guessing why the rocks were arranged the way they were. My brain needed time to stretch around the wild concept that people were doing more than just surviving in the year 2000 BC. But I remembered that was about the same time they were building the pyramids.
Jacob joined me again and we walked a narrow path between two tall stones. Moss made the ground slick, and my boot slid. My hip struck stone and I over-corrected. Before I could catch myself, his long arm grabbed me around my waist and pulled me against him.
“I’ve got ye,” he whispered.
Chills rushed through me, head to toe, at the mere thought of a man wrapping his arms around me again. It didn’t matter if he was just trying to keep me from falling on my ass.
“Thank you. I was sure I was going down.”
“Quite welcome.” He made sure I was stable, then released me and took a step back. “All part of the Jacob MacKinney Tour Services.”
We kept walking until we reached the entrance to the biggest cairn. The stones formed a narrow passage leading into the higher center. I stepped inside, tempted to keep going, but I didn’t want to leave Jacob behind. He was obviously too large to go any deeper.
“People were buried here,” he explained. “Burned first. They found ash and bone, sometimes pots of food.”
“Did they worship the sun?”
He snorted. “Likely everyone this far north does. But no. I reckon they needed this place desperately.”
“Um. I don’t understand.”
He put out a hand and rested it on the stone wall behind me, effectively barring my escape. “Weel, every year, at the winter solstice, the sun comes back. Exactly to the right place, on the right day. It’s proof, ye see, that some things can be counted on. Sure as the sun will rise in the mornin’, aye? I doubt much else could be guaranteed back then.”
I couldn’t help smiling. I felt my long-forgotten dimples dimpling. “You’re a philosopher.”
“Comes with the job,” he said with a nod. “Pub owner. Barman.”
“And newly minted tour guide.”
“Aye.”
The way he growled the word sent sparks skittering over me, like someone was holding sparklers over my bare shouldersand each little spike of light kissed me lightly as it fell. I could imagine the smell of gunpowder and waited for the sound of fireworks.
Standing toe to toe with Jacob was literally like the Fourth of July.
I had to tilt my head back to look into his eyes. They were green now that we were outside and I could see them clearly. Thanks to the piercing light of the lowering sun, I had to squint a little, but I didn’t want to look away.
“Well, Mr. MacKinney, I think your first guided tour was a big success.”
“Thank ye, Ms. Harris. Sure, but ye’ll be certain to leave a review.”
I blinked a few times, thinking, remembering. “I don’t remember telling you my last name…”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dear lord! She was right!
Think! Who else would have known, besides Jocko?
