pdouglas.thecodex-第9部分
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l Meditation； Theosophy； EST； Lifespring； and even a brush with Christianity。 He had rejected the materialism of his childhood and had tried to find some deeper truth to his life。 What to others…especially his brothers…seemed a wasted life； had been to him a life of richness and striving。 What else was the point of life； if not to find out why？
Now he had the chance； with this inheritance； to do some real good。 Not just for himself this time but for others。 It was his chance to do something for the world。 But how？ Should he try to find the tomb on his own？ Should he call Tom？ Philip was an asshole； but maybe Tom would want to join forces with him。 He had to make a decision； and quickly。
He tucked up his linen robes and started down the path to the Teacher's hut…a sprawling redwood structure set in a gentle vale； nestled among a stand of tall oaks； with a view of the Pacific。 On the way he passed Chao； the cheerful Asian boy who ran the Teacher's errands； bouncing up the trail carrying a bundle of mail。 It was the life he sought： peaceful and unplicated。 Too bad it was so expensive。
As he rounded the side of the hill； the Hut came into view。 He paused…he was a little intimidated by the Teacher…but then resolutely carried on。 He knocked on the door。 After a moment； a low； resonant voice called out from the depths of the pound； 〃e in； you are most wele。〃
He removed his sandals on the veranda and stepped inside。 The house was Japanese in style； simple and ascetic； with sliding screens of rice paper； floors covered with beige mats； and expanses of polished wood planking。 The interior smelled of beeswax and incense。 There was the gentle sound of water。 Through a series of openings Vernon could see down the length of the house to a Japanese garden beyond； with mossy rocks standing among raked pebbles； and a pool with blooming lotus flowers。 He could not see the Teacher。
He turned and peered down another hallway to his left； through successive doorways； which disclosed a teenage girl in bare feet and robes； with a long blond French braid down her back entwined with wilting flowers。 She was chopping vegetables in the Teacher's kitchen。
〃Are you there； Teacher？〃 he called。
The girl went on chopping。
〃This way；〃 came the low voice。
Vernon went toward the sound and found the Teacher sitting in his meditation room； cross…legged on a mat； his eyes closed。 He opened them but did not rise。 Vernon stood； waiting respectfully。 The Teacher's fit； handsome figure was draped in a simple robe of undyed linen。 A fringe of long gray hair； bed straight down； fell from a small bald spot； giving him a Leonardo da Vinci look。 Astute blue eyes crinkled under strongly arched orbital ridges carved out of the broad dome of his forehead。 A trimmed salt…and…pepper beard pleted the face。 When he spoke his voice was soft and resonant； underlain by a pleasing bed of gravel； with a faint Brooklyn accent that stamped him as a man of humble origins。 He was about sixty…no one knew his exact age。 Formerly a professor of philosophy at Berkeley named Art Brewer； he had renounced tenure to retreat into a life of the spirit。 Here； at the Ashram； he had founded a munity devoted to prayer； meditation； and spiritual growth。 It was pleasantly nondenominational； loosely based on Buddhism； but without the excessive discipline； intellectualism； celibacy； and fatalism that tended to mar that particular religious tradition。 Rather； the Ashram was a beautiful retreat in a lovely location； where under the gentle guidance of the Teacher each worshiped in his own way； at a cost of seven hundred dollars per week； room and board included。
〃Sit down；〃 the Teacher said。
Vernon sat。
〃How can I help you？〃
〃It's about my father。〃
The Teacher listened。
Vernon collected his thoughts and took a breath。 He told the Teacher about his father's cancer； the inheritance； the challenge to find his tomb。 When he finished there was a long silence。 Vernon wondered if the Teacher would tell him to forgo the inheritance。 He remembered the Teacher's many negative ments about the evil effects of money。
〃Let's have tea；〃 said the Teacher； his voice exceptionally tender； placing his gentle hand on Vernon's elbow。 They sat and he called for tea； which was brought in by the girl with the braid。 They sipped silently； and then the Teacher asked； 〃How much； exactly； is this inheritance worth？〃
〃I figure that after taxes my share would probably be worth a hundred million。〃
The Teacher seemed to take a very long sip of tea； and another。 If the sum surprised him he didn't show it。 〃Let us meditate。〃
Vernon； too； closed his eyes。 He had trouble concentrating on his mantra； feeling agitated by the questions facing him； which only seemed to grow more plex as he thought about them。 One hundred million dollars。 One hundred million dollars。 The phrase； not dissimilar in sound from the mantra； got tangled up with his meditating； preventing him from achieving either peace or internal silence。 One hundred million。 Om mani padme hum。 One hundred million。
It was a relief when the Teacher raised his head。 He took Vernon's hands and enclosed them within his own。 His blue eyes were unusually bright。
〃Few are given the opportunity that you have been given； Vernon。 You must not let this opportunity pass you by。〃
〃How so？〃
The Teacher stood and spoke with power and resonance in his voice。 〃We need to recover that inheritance。 We need to recover it now。
8
By the time Tom had finished doctoring the sick horse； the sun was setting over Toh Ateen mesa； casting long golden shadows across the sagebrush and chamisa。 Beyond rose up a thousand…foot wall of sculpted sandstone； glowing red in the dying light。 Tom gave the animal another quick lookover and patted him on the neck。 He turned to the Navajo girl…the horse's owner。 〃He's going to make it。 Just a touch of sand colic。〃
She broke into a relieved smile。
〃Right now he's hungry。 Lead him around the corral a few times and then give him a scoop of psyllium mixed in with his oats。 Let him water afterwards。 Wait half an hour； then give him some hay。 He'll be fine。〃
The Navajo grandmother who had ridden on horseback five miles to the vet clinic to get him…the road was washed out； as usual…took his hand。 〃Thank you； doctor。〃
Tom gave a little bow。 〃At your service。〃 He thought ahead to the ride back to Bluff with anticipation。 He was glad the road had washed out； giving him the excuse for a long ride。 It had wasted half his day； but the trail had taken him through some of the most beautiful red…rock country in the Southwest； through the Jurassic sandstone beds known as the Morrison Formation； rich with dinosaur fossils。 There were a lot of remote canyons running up into Toh Ateen mesa； and Tom wondered if any paleontologists had ever explored up there。 Probably not。 Someday； he thought； he'd take a little side trip up one of those canyons 。。。
He shook his head and smiled to himself。 The desert was a fine place to clear your mind； and he had had a lot of clearing to do。 This crazy business with his father had been the biggest shock of his life。
〃What do we owe you； doctor？〃 the grandmother asked； breaking his reverie。
Tom glanced around at the shabby tar…paper hogan； the broken…down car half sunk in tumbleweeds； the skinny sheep milling in the pen。
〃Five dollars。〃
The woman fished into her velveteen blouse and removed some soiled dollar bills； counting out five for him。
Tom had touched his hat and had just turned to get his horse when he noticed a tiny cloud of dust on the horizon。 The two Navajos had also noticed it。 A horse and rider were approaching fast from the north； from the direction he had e； the dark speck getting bigger in the great golden bowl of the desert。 He wondered if it was Shane； his vet partner。 It alarmed him。 It would have to be one hell of an emergency for Shane to ride out there to get him。
As the figure materialized； he realized it wasn't Shane but a woman。 And she was riding his horse Knock。
The woman trotted into the settlement； covered with dust from her journey； the horse lathered up and blowing。 She stopped and swung down。 She had been riding bareback without even a bridle across almost eight miles of empty desert。 Absolutely； totally crazy。 And what was she doing with his best horse and not one of Shane's glue…plugs？ He was going to kill Shane。
She strode toward him。 〃I'm Sally Colorado；〃 she said。 〃I tried to find you at your clinic； but your partner said you'd ridden out here。 So here I am。〃 With a rustle of honey…colored hair； she held out her hand。 Tom； caught off guard； took it。 Her hair had spilled down her shoulders over a white cotton shirt； now powdered with dust。 The shirt was tucked in at a slender waist； which itself was snugged into a pair of jeans。 There was a faint scent of peppermint about her。 When she smiled it seemed her eyes had changed color from green to blue； so bright was the effect。 She wore a pair of turquoise earrings； but the color in her eyes was even richer than the color of the stone。
After a moment Tom realized he was still holding her hand； and released it。
〃I just had to find you；〃 she said。 〃I couldn't wait。〃
〃An em
