Firelight at Mustang Ridge

by Jesse Hayworth

  “Suck it up,” Jenny advised. “Because now you’re the distraction.”

  They dove back into the racks, with Krista still wearing the dress and the calf-high boots as if she might be thinking of tossing down some cash and making a break for it. Instead, she pulled a red shirt from the rack, looked from it to Danny and back, and nodded. “This could work.”

  “You know what happens in Star Trek when you wear a red shirt, right?”

  “Lucky for us, this is Wyoming.” Krista looped it over Danny’s arm. “Try it. I think you’ll like it.”

  “And this one.” Jenny added a shirt and a short sundress.

  “Here are some jeans,” Shelby said, though apparently some translated to about forty pounds of rhinestone-blinged denim.

  “Eep!” Danny sagged under the sudden pile of fabric. “How many square dances are we talking about here?”

  “Humor us. Who knows? You might find a few things in there you didn’t know you couldn’t live without.” Shelby pointed to the dressing cube. “March, girlfriend! Unless you want us to keep going?”

  “I’m marching, I’m marching!” Laughing, she entered the curtained space, dumped the clothes on the remaining empty chair—the other held a haphazard scatter of Krista’s clothes—and refused to let any of the hemmed-in feelings gain traction. But as she started to shuck off her jeans and tee, Shelby’s head popped through the curtains.

  “Della’s back!” she blurted, then disappeared again.

  Danny shoved her shirt back into her waistband and bolted out of the dressing cube in her socks, leaving her hiking boots behind as she joined the others, where Jenny and Shelby stood on either side of Krista, forming a united front against Della, who had some stapled-together papers in one hand and an expression that wasn’t giving away anything.

  When Danny added herself to the end of the line, Krista said, “Well? Were you able to get the other buyer on the phone?”

  “I was, and I explained the situation.” A wide smile spread across her face. “And she said I should go ahead and sell it to you.”

  “She . . .” Krista’s jaw dropped as the others went, “Woo-hoo!” and “Yee-haw!”

  Danny’s “Yayyy!” got drowned out, but that didn’t matter one bit as she found herself swept up in an impromptu hug-and-dance celebration that involved lots of whooping and twirls.

  Krista whirled to face Della, glowing. “So I can have it? Really?”

  “Really.” Della’s smile gained an evil glint. “It actually wasn’t that hard to convince the other buyer to let you have it . . . seeing as you’ve got a long-standing relationship with her.” She held up the deposit paperwork. “See?”

  At the top, in big Sharpie letters, it said: HOLD FOR ROSE SKYE.

  Jenny groaned, Shelby whooped, and Danny swallowed a snort. She had met Krista’s mom a few times, and could totally see it.

  “She said to tell you that the moment she saw it, she knew it was the one.” Della glanced down at Krista’s feet. “She had a pair of kitten heels in mind to go with it, though. Do you want me to bring them out?”

  “NO!” Jenny shouted, laughing. “Please, no. You can’t let her win on everything. She’ll be incorrigible.”

  “She’ll be incorrigible anyway,” Krista said fondly. “Especially because she was right. And, yes, I’d like to see the shoes.”

  “But the boots are awesome!” Shelby protested. “So-o-o sexy.”

  “So I’ll buy both and decide later.”

  Looking very pleased with herself for having helped pull off the surprise, Della said, “Do you want to hop out of the dress and let me take care of getting it pressed for the big day, or are you planning on wearing it home?”

  “Ha!” Jenny hooted. “Don’t tempt her.”

  “You can keep it for pressing,” Krista said, “but let me try on those shoes first. In the meantime . . .” She nudged Danny with an elbow and shot her a wink. “Go try on those clothes. You’ve got a date tomorrow!”

  9

  On Sunday, Danny borrowed a car from Mustang Ridge and drove to Sam’s place, following Krista’s directions, which had a whole lot of “Take a right at the mailbox made out of a tractor tire” and “Go straight past the milking parlor that’s painted like a Holstein” localisms. The instructions had sounded like they would get her dead lost, but they soon brought her to a huge gray boulder that had been cut on an angle, polished to a gleam, and etched with foot-high letters that spelled out WINDFALL.

  Turning in, she rolled past the marker stone and up to the crest of a shallow hill, where she got her first look at Sam’s home, the place he had jokingly called a mansion.

  Only it turned out that was no joke.

  Ahead of her the driveway forked, with one lane going down to a large compound of steel buildings and machines, and the other going up to a high hill that was crowned by a conical boulder that rose four-plus stories into the sky, and was partially encircled by a big, sprawling house. Made of wood and stone, with solar panels galore, the mansion was modern yet somehow looked like it had grown out of the hill, or been left there by the same long-ago glacier that had deposited the huge rock. Flashes of color—warm reds, blues, and greens—reflected from the solar panels and windows, the wooden beams crisscrossed to make diamond patterns, and on a flagpole set at the summit of the boulder, a huge Stars and Stripes snapped in the breeze.

  Easing her foot off the gas, Danny let the car roll to a stop at the fork in the road. “Wow.”

  She had steeled herself for something big and impressive, had decided to drive herself so she’d have time to take it all in. It would take longer than a minute’s pause to wrap her head around the scope of Windfall, though. Not so much because she was intimidated, but because she wasn’t sure how to make it fit with the Sam she knew—the one who would rather ride the countryside on horseback than in a helicopter, who had brought her pizza and beer because he figured she could use it, and who had kissed her like she could somehow give him the peace he was looking for, even though she was in search of it herself.

  And, suddenly, there he was.

  As if conjured by her thoughts, Sam appeared atop the boulder, fifty or so feet up, hooked an arm around the flagpole like he was riding the mast of a pirate ship, and waved down at her.

  Danny’s heart thudded and warmth flooded through her—excited prickles that said despite her intention to focus on herself while she was in Wyoming, there was a big part of her that would far rather focus on him. The realization brought a skim of warning, but instead of urging her to step back, the nerves only served to amp up the heat.

  Was she in danger of getting in over her head? Maybe. Probably. But that had never stopped the old Danny, and she darn well wasn’t going to let it stop her now. So, pressing down on the gas, she chucked caution out the window and sent the borrowed vehicle rocketing along the driveway.

  As she got out of the car, he leaned back against a thick, knotted rope and walked himself down the side of the big boulder. When he hit the last ten feet or so, where the stone face curved back under, he kicked away, swung out, and dropped lightly to the ground below.

  He met her halfway, his eyes gone pale silver in the bright midday sun as he caught her hands and held her at arm’s length to give her a once-over. “You look incredible. Not that you don’t usually. But, wow.”

  Her whole-body flush went up a couple of degrees, prickling her skin beneath the low-cut stretchy red shirt and butt-hugging jeans. “I went shopping with Krista, Jenny, and Shelby yesterday. I told them this was a grubbing-in-the-dirt date, but they insisted.”

  “Remind me to kiss all three of them the next time I see them. In the meantime—” He tugged her closer and bent his head to hers. And her nerves turned to liquid fire as she met him in a kiss that said hello. It said I missed you. And maybe it said more, but his mouth slanting across hers swept away any chan
ce of thought and left her awash in the heat and pleasure of kissing him back.

  As their tongues touched and slid, his hands stroked straight down to her hips, then went to the small of her back. He gathered her close, making her feel delicate yet somehow unbreakable as the kiss went deeper and a greedy heat flared in her belly, reminding her that it had been too long for her. And it hadn’t ever been quite like this before.

  Brandon hadn’t been her first, but he was the type she had gravitated toward—the skiers and mountain bikers who came to Maverick, worked as instructors or did odd jobs for mountain time, and never turned down a dare. Back then, she had thought they were the coolest of the cool. After her accident, though, from the outside looking in, so much of it had seemed brittle and fake—a world where character didn’t matter so much as who could throw the biggest trick.

  But out here, everything was different. Sam was different. Whereas Brandon had been slick, Sam was rugged. Whereas Brandon had bragged, Sam stayed silent. And whereas Brandon had prided himself on living at the edge, Sam kept his boots on solid ground. Yet she didn’t have a shred of doubt that if danger reared its head, Sam would beat the crap out of it with a souped-up sledgehammer.

  She wasn’t looking for a man to rescue her, but being with one who could was proving to be a definite turn-on.

  Her pulse hammered in her ears as he eased away, and she could see the throb at the base of his throat, hear the quick in-and-out of his breathing. There was a faint rasp in his voice when he said, “Welcome to Windfall. I’m glad you’re here.”

  She grinned up at him. “Me, too.” The house was bigger and grander than she had expected, but she had known almost from the first moment that there was more to him than met the eye. “It’s beautiful,” she said, her eyes going from the boulder to the house and back again. “I never thought about putting my own mini-mountain in the front yard, but now I can see that it’s a landscaping must.”

  “Actually, the boulder came first.” He kept a loose hold on her, their bodies still touching, as he looked up at the huge stone face. “It’s called Wolf Rock, because from a distance, especially under moonlight, it looks like a wolf sitting on its haunches and howling up at the sky. There’s been a climbing rope for as long as I can remember, and Dad and I added the flag when I was ten or so.”

  “You grew up here?”

  “Yep.” His teeth flashed. “In a much smaller house. But you’re not here for my life story, are you? I promised you a treasure hunt.” He released her, keeping their fingers twined together. “Come on. Your chariot awaits.”

  Both intrigued and aware of the change in subject, she followed him around the base of Wolf Rock, into the shadowy courtyard where the U-shaped mansion bracketed the huge stone. “What kind of chariot are we talking about here? A burro team? Stagecoach? Oh!” She laughed at the sight of an ATV almost identical to the one she used back at Mustang Ridge, but with a small trailer hitched to the back, loaded with gear. “That looks familiar.”

  “Thought it might.” He patted the tied-down bundles. “We’ve got everything we need for an afternoon out on the mountain, if you’re ready to go.” One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Hope you don’t mind riding double.”

  Excitement skimmed through her—at the thought of linking her hands across his six-pack abs and fitting her body tight to his, at the promise of a new adventure. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s get this show on the road!”

  The hour-long ride was bumpy, the engine too loud for any real conversation, and Danny’s helmet kept sliding down over her eyes, but she didn’t care. She snuggled up against Sam’s broad back and peered around, fascinated by the changing landscape. She didn’t need the occasional pop of her ears to know they were climbing—she could see it in the trees turning from leafy to pine, and then thinning to sparse clumps scattered across the increasingly rocky slopes, where stones piled up against one another, looking very ready to fall.

  She kept a close eye as they passed a big stack, hoping the vibrations wouldn’t jar them loose. We’re not in Maine anymore, Toto. Not that she had thought she was. But while Blessing Valley was a lush oasis and Mustang Ridge was a vacation playland, Sam’s property was rugged and forbidding.

  The ATV’s engine changed pitch, and his body shifted against hers as he turned the machine off the trail and up onto a flat, rocky ledge. Killing the engine, he shucked off his helmet and twisted back to give her a grin. “I believe you said you wanted rocks?”

  She laughed as she fumbled with the chin strap of her helmet. “I’d say you delivered.”

  He swung off the saddle and offered a hand. “Welcome to Hyrule.”

  “Is that the name of the mountain?” She took in the jagged, rocky slopes rising on one side of them and falling away on the other.

  “This part of it, anyway. Most prospectors name their sites, or at least give them numbers. Makes it easier to keep things straight.”

  And he wouldn’t use numbers, she knew. The land was too important to him. “Isn’t Hyrule part of the Legend of Zelda?”

  His teeth flashed. “It was my favorite when I was a kid. Hyrule is the Overworld, where you can find some of the stuff you’re going to need to get you started. Money. Potions. A sword. That’s sort of what this area is like. Dad and I found aquamarine from a few pockets right here, some blue beryl. A little gem-grade quartz and iodolite. Enough to pay some bills, keep us going when things were tight back in the day. So we named it Hyrule.”

  He spoke of his father easily enough, with none of the shadows he’d been carrying the other day. “Hyrule.” She nodded. “I like it.”

  “The last time Axyl, Murph, Midas, and I were out here, we were testing a new scanner, a portable unit that looks for areas of very low density and flags them as possible vugs.”

  “Vugs?”

  “Pockets that form from cooling lava. Add the right combination of minerals, pressure, and heat, and you’ve got a perfect setup to grow gemstone crystals, sometimes big ones.” He described the different kinds of stones and some of the ways to get at them, his voice deepening and his gestures broadening. “We marked some likely spots that the scanner found, but haven’t gotten back yet to check them out. I thought we could take a crack at one or two of them today.”

  Pulse bumping at the thought that she might be standing right on top of a fortune, she teased, “In other words, we’re going to cheat.”

  His teeth flashed. “I prefer to call it using technology to increase our odds. Or would you rather poke around on your own? Either way is fine by me.”

  She held out a hand. “Hand me one of those shovels and point me to a flag, big guy. This girl is ready to dig some rocks.”

  * * *

  By the time the sun had centered itself in the cloudless sky and the temperature notched into the upper digits, they had checked out two of the anomalies the scanner had picked up—one turned out to be a stress crack, the other a dud pocket empty of crystals—and were working on a third. But although they didn’t have much to show for the digging time, Sam sure wouldn’t call it a bust. Because, dang, he was having fun.

  “I’ve got more sparkles!” Danny announced, looking up at him from the hollowed-out spot where they had cleared the overburden. “I think the seam of quartz is getting wider. It’s even sounding a little hollow when I dig, though that might be wishful thinking.” She was sweaty, dirt-streaked, and radiant beneath her safety goggles, and he didn’t remember the last time he’d seen something so fine.

  “Want me to take a couple of whacks at it with the pick?”

  “Not on your life! Just pass me a hammer.”

  “Spoken like a true rockhound.” He handed over the spring-loaded hammer, and leaned in, not wanting to miss when she broke through. He’d never brought a date out to the hills before. But then again, he’d never dated a woman like Danny before, one who didn’t even bother to roll up he
r sleeves before she plunged headlong into life.

  “I don’t know that I qualify as a rockhound yet—I haven’t actually found anything. Is there a level below rockhound? Rock noob?”

  “Pebble pup.”

  Her eyes lit. “Perfect! Does it come on a T-shirt?”

  “I’m sure we can find you one.”

  “Or maybe a baseball cap.” She hunkered down, concentrating as she gave a couple of experimental taps here and there, listening to the reverb.

  “That one.” He got in close, their bodies bumping as he pointed to a spot. “Sounded hollow to me.” He had gadgets galore to tell him exactly that, but he’d left them all behind, figuring going it old school would be more fun for her. “I’d give it a couple of good whacks and see what happens.”

  “Okay, here goes. Fingers crossed.” She gave the thin-sounding spot a tentative tap, then used both hands and brought the hammer down with a resounding clang that turned into a rattling noise as the stone crumbled inward and the pieces fell into a sudden slice of darkness. “Oh!” Her hands flew to her mouth. “Look!”

  The jagged edge where the pocket had broken through was encrusted with fat crystalline shapes. He didn’t know what they were looking at yet, but he knew she would remember this for a long time. You never really forgot your first, after all. “See if you can find a loose crystal,” he said, straightening away from her and reaching for his water bottle. “And let’s take a look at what you’ve got here.”

  “What we’ve got,” she corrected, coming up with a squat chunk of stone about the size of her thumb. “Hyrule is yours.”

  “But you’re the first human to ever lay eyes on what’s inside this pocket.” He dribbled water over the gem. “How does that feel?”

  Her eyes came up to meet his, full of wonder. “Like I just came over a hill and found an ocean I wasn’t expecting.” And, just like that unexpected ocean, the crystal brightened blue-green in the sunlight. “Look at that!” She clutched the shard close, then held it up to the light. “It’s beautiful! It’s . . . What is it?”