Marian was dragged out of the tent, meeting her offspring with a loving hug and instant recriminations.
Jones's was a bit slower coming out; it was harder for them to meet.
When Indy glanced over and saw him at the edge of the group his face fell.
"Oh, Jesus, Sanford. I'm so sorry."
He lifted one shoulder, shrugged. To Indy he looked near to tears. Dr. Jones went to the young man, wrapping his arms around the thinner shoulders.
"I wrote you a letter," he whispered. "I thought you were on a dig or something when I couldn't reach you. I wasn't even worried yet."
Sanford nodded morosely.
Marian's eyebrows were up near her hairline when he turned to look at her. He sighed, dropping his protective embrace from around the man beside him so that he could drape his shoulder more casually.
"Your son is one of the few historians in the world familiar with the languages we need, Doctor Jones," the Russian woman told him. "He's been quite useful in helping us to decipher the clues we need."
"I didn't realize who they were, what they were after," he looked up at him, worried. "I thought it was Mac I was helping. He said you'd recommended me. He said..."
Jones looked daggers at his former friend and colleague.
"I've been watching over him myself, mate. Don't get all bent out of shape with me!"
Jones kept his arm around his son and turned to Marian. "San, this is Marian Ravenwood, Abner Ravenwood's daughter...an old friend of mine. Marian, this is my son, Abram Sanford-Ranghort. Mutt, my boy. San, this is Marian's boy, apparently...Mutt Williams."
"Mutt," Abram nodded as she held out her hand and they shook like they hadn't been living in each other's pockets for days now. "Marian." He savored the name, remembering. They could have been related, except that Abram's dark hair was perfectly rain straight. Indy could see the moment the locks fell into place. His mother had resented Marian's name. Their affair hadn't lasted long - - they'd dated for about six months right after he and Marian had...well, it was water under the bridge. It sufficed to say that he hadn't quite been over Marian at the time and Abram's mother hadn't dealt with that well. When she'd seen a picture and realized how much she resembled the other woman it was over. She'd swept out of his life – - just a few weeks pregnant with the child he wouldn't meet for fifteen years.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Marian's breeding required. They saw the irony in being acquainted without realizing how intersected their life journeys had been. San hadn't-and never would have-put Marian together with this beautiful woman he'd been calling Mary Williams. Mary was too common, Marian too evil. This woman was neither.
"Touching, I'm sure," their captor announced. "Now, Dr. Jones, you will be looking at our skull?"
Abram sighed. "Be careful, Dad," he hissed under his breath. "I know you don't believe in hokey religions..."
As they made their way through the jungle at a run it was Mutt's arm that kept Abram from pitching head-first into the sand trap when Marian called a halt. "Thanks," he grinned up at him as Indy sank a bit further.
He was the one who grabbed the snake, looking into its eyes and identifying it as one whose bite wouldn't do much damage while the shorter man had wrestled with a vine. "Got it," he called. Mutt glanced over, amazed and incredulous that the slighter man had managed to pull a vine free with his bare hands when he couldn't hack one away.
He grinned at the use of native resources. "Good one," he called, shouldering the heavy snake for the run back.
In the muck Indy had revealed to Marian that Abram's mother had kept him from him most of her life. Abram's innate love of history had led him to research his own - -leading him to knock on Indy's door a few months shy of his sixteenth birthday. His father had adored the boy and his son had comforted him through that last year of his life when they'd lost Brody and finally the man who'd managed to link them.
"He's never forgiven me for his birth," Jones told the woman he'd always loved. "Abram hasn't spoken to his mother in years. Blames her that he didn't get to know his grandfather sooner."
"It's hard, Indy. I know."
When the children came back they revealed the truth.
Abram's jaw dropped. "I have a little brother?" he asked. "I have a little brother, too!" he growled. "Jesus! How many more of us are there? Are you really that careless or are you just stupid? Do you have any idea how many children you might have?"
Mutt balked. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"
Marian was shaking her head. "If your father was with your mother after I left, that would make you Henry's little brother. You have an older brother."
"Oh, hell, no. Just leave him where he is. If the snake doesn't eat him maybe something else will."
Indy pointed his finger at Sanford. "Don't take that tone with me. I was not keeping this from you. I promised you no secrets. If there's something you don't know it's because we haven't gotten to it or I was kept in the dark, too."
He crossed his fingers. Another belch below the surface had him hitting his knees beside Mutt. "Grab the damn snake, Dad!"
"Watch your mouth," he ordered instead.
As he eventually climbed from the muck their captors showed up, led by Wilkins.
They argued about school in the truck.
"He's not in school!" Mutt objected.
"'He's' already got a degree in history and is working on his doctorate." Abram jeered back.
"You can't fix motorcycles all your life," Indy scolded in a superior tone.
This sparked a little respect from baby brother. "You fix motorcycles?" he asked. "Well, that's cool."
"Thank you."
"It's not a career," Indy objected.
San shrugged. "Sure it is. Anything with a motor will eventually need a tune-up. And as long as there are people around to drive them, I don't see them going away. They're too handy in too many places, too cool in too many others, to go the way of the dodo. You make a good living at it?" he asked.
Mutt shrugged modestly. "I get by."
"No," Jones insisted.
"What happened to 'follow your bliss' and 'if that's what makes you happy' and 'college isn't for everybody'?" Mutt asked.
"Did you say that?" San asked his dad. "That's very open-minded of you. I'm proud."
"That was before you were my kid!" Jones shouted at his eldest. The Russian in the truck rolled his eyes. These Americans. Too much money, not enough to do. And they'd raised children to talk back to them. If the taller boy was his he'd catch the back of his hand for that tone. The thicker boy would have been taken out behind the woodshed and taught respect for his old man. There would be no ganging up. Both would obey his every whims.