by Lyssa Layne
“I should’ve checked on him sooner. I knew he wasn’t feeling well, but I thought he wanted to be left alone to rest. That was the case when he showed up here any other time.”
“You did the right thing.” She squeezed his arm.
“I’m not so sure.” He put his hand over hers. “I’m sorry Skeeter died like that.”
“If he hadn’t been here, what would’ve happened to him? He might’ve died all alone out in the desert.” She looked at the mountains. “We might never have found him, or Nobody. It would have been terrible. The way he went, here where someone could watch over him, was better.”
He opened his mouth to reply when Sheriff Bodine pulled up next to them and leaned out the window. “I hear you’ve had a little more trouble. I was down at the site where we found our DB when the call came in. I came up to find out what’s going on?”
“I’ve been vandalized,” Mike said. “Come see.”
Bodine turned off the engine and got out. “Where? Show me.”
They walked into the raft office.
He whistled. “You’re a real popular fellow, aren’t you?”
Mike didn’t answer that, but said, “The same thing happened to my buddy up at River Adventures. The SRPL did it. They caught the guy red handed, and his is exactly the same kind of thing.”
“Did you see anyone around?” Bodine reached for his notebook.
“No. Mallory and I were inside.” About to make love.
“Anybody else out here?”
“Brent, Dianna, and Shelby.” Mike reluctantly listed his friends. How much more of this would they be willing to take? They’d already gone above and beyond for him.
“Get them.” Bodine shut his notebook and stuffed it in his pocket.
Mike took his cell phone out and dialed each and asked them to come to the raft office.
Brent appeared first. “What can I tell you?”
The sheriff took him by the elbow. “Let’s move over here to talk.”
Dianna and Shelby joined them. Shelby looked around at the ruined rafts. “What’s going on?”
“Vandals. Probably our friends at the SRPL. He’s making a report.” Mike gestured toward the sheriff.
“Why now?” Shelby’s voice rose in dismay.
“I don’t know.”
Dianna kicked one of the ruined floats. “I’d like to tear their heads off.”
“Me, too,” Mike said, “but we can’t do anything until we find out who did this.”
“We know who did it,” Dianna declared hotly. Her short hair almost stood on end.
Mike corrected her. “We think we do anyway.”
Brent joined them. “The sheriff wants to talk to you, Shelby.”
She walked away.
“What did he say?” Dianna stuck her hands under her armpits and glared.
“Nothing much. Wanted to know if I’d seen or heard anything. I didn’t, so I wasn’t much help.” He directed his attention to Mike. “I don’t think we’re going to find anyone. The sheriff said he’d run prints, but I bet there’s nothing to go on.”
“What makes you say that?” Mike had a moment’s confusion. “Do you think the vandals wore gloves?”
“Probably,” Brent said. “Even though we all know who did it. But proving it is going to be hard. They’ve got the law and the judge on their side because they have political clout.”
Mike refused to believe it. “Bodine seems honest.”
Dianna snorted. “Maybe.”
The man in question motioned for her to come. Her lips turned down and she rolled her eyes, then did as requested.
Brent shuffled his feet, and stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. He spoke in a low tone. “Mike, do you think Di would do something rotten out of jealousy?”
“What do you mean?” Mike wasn’t going to go down this path.
“Don’t make me spell it out, man. You know what I’m asking.” Brent looked like he might cry.
Mike dug in his heels. “No way. No how.” There was no way Dianna had done this because she was mad.
“Look, we all know she’s got a temper. And she’s been in love with you forever.” Brent looked toward the two women and the sheriff. “And, Mike, I don’t want to say this. We’ve all been friends for a long, long time, but there wasn’t anyone else around. I checked the rafts last night after I was in the kitchen, then again this morning. There wasn’t anything wrong with them.”
“Dianna wouldn’t do that.” Mike held his ground. There was no way his friend would turn on him. She knew what it would do to their friendship. He might not feel the way she wanted him to feel, but she wouldn’t react like a maniac. He was certain of it.
Bodine and the two women walked over. “I’m going to dust for prints,” he said. “But, according to these two, there’s going to be hundreds of samples.”
“Yeah, we have a lot of guests who go in and out.” Mike studied Dianna. She looked the same as she had for the last ten years. Like one of his closest friends.
Bodine nodded and retrieved a kit from the car, then stepped into the building.
They stood silent until he returned. “I’ll be in touch.”
As he drove away, Mike said, “I hope he catches the creeps before I do.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mallory waited until Mike was busy with calls to the insurance adjuster, then scribbled a note and snuck out of the lodge. Something about the petroglyphs she’d seen on the rock nagged at her. She wasn’t sure what, but they kept calling to her and she wanted to look at them again.
After double checking to make sure that the saddle, blanket, and bridle were free of any oddities, she caught and tacked up Zorro. Petting his nose, she told him, “You be good. I don’t want to hurt my fingers again.”
She swung up on his back and guided him toward the gate. As she passed the signs, she glanced around, but nobody seemed to be lurking. Mike had told her not to stray off the ranch, but she didn’t think going to the Indian artwork would be a problem. They were on his land, not public property.
She knew the way and made good time. The afternoon sunshine felt good on her face and arms. The tension in her back lessened as the horse walked along in a calm, normal manner. As she neared the site where she’d seen the Jeep, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Urging the horse to trot, she held on with both hands on the saddle horn and gripped his warm sides with her knees, but he didn’t blink an eye and they passed the spot in a heartbeat.
She reined him up the winding dirt road.
At the boulders overlooking the ranch, she dismounted and tied Zorro to a Palo Verde branch. She gave his neck a quick pat and turned to admire the view. Sitting back on her heels, she studied the land. No one seemed to be around on the ranch, so she looked into the distance. Even the brown cloud over Phoenix was less today. The Superstitions looked like rolling green hills, thanks to the rain. From here she could almost see to Mexico. She noticed Canyon Lake in the distance and where Tortilla Flat should be, but she couldn’t see it from here.
Nothing jumped out at her, so she stood and moved to the rock with the Native American drawings. Tracing her fingers over the rough surface of the rock, she didn’t see anything she knew. A stick figure looked like a man, and another figure might’ve been a horse or a mule. But she wasn’t sure. Some symbols resembled letters, but she didn’t read Apache, or whatever language they were written in.
Closing her eyes, she traced the marks again.
Her fingers slid over rough granite, but nothing struck her.
Something here had drawn her back, but what? Just the mystique of the characters? No, it was more. She opened her eyes and stepped back.
Then she saw it.
The horse figure was on a trail.
Tiny scratches—hoof prints—that led nowhere.
Taking a closer look, she saw the horse stood upon a range of mountains that resembled the Superstitions. Heart racing, she turned and searched the horizon directly across from he
r. Yes, the exact location. Turning back, she searched the rock for another landmark. A single mark might’ve been Weaver’s Needle. She peered into the horizon, trying to remember if Mike had pointed that way. Yes.
One by one, she found other landmarks.
This boulder was an American Indian map.
It exactly matched the map Skeeter had.
Stepping back, she squatted down and drew the same map in the sand. The hoofprints were the missing clue. A short way across, they stopped. She nearly pressed her nose into the rock, trying to see where they led, but couldn’t find the rest. Time or the weather had worn them off. Certain the missing mine was there, she continued to stare at the stone until her head ached. Mixed emotions filled her. Elation that Skeeter had been right warred with sadness that he hadn’t succeeded. Tears filled her eyes and fell down her cheeks and she made no move to wipe them away. She cried for her father, for herself.
She hadn’t vindicated him yet. She still didn’t know where the mine was.
Mike would.
Almost running, she untied Zorro and jumped on him.
~*~
Mallory shifted impatiently as Mike stood in front of the boulder and studied it. “Do you see it?”
He nodded slowly and ran his fingers over the images much like she had. “Yes. There’s the Superstitions. And the ranch would be here. Yes, this is the same map.”
“I knew it.” She beamed. “Now, if we can just find out where these tracks lead. The mine or gold or treasure will be there.”
“I know where they lead.” He turned toward her with a wide smile. He pointed to the right side of the rock. “See there? The part of the map was ripped off. I thought it was torn from just ordinary wear and tear. But now I think Skeeter tore it off to hide the location.”
Mallory’s excitement faded. “Then we’re no closer.”
“Oh, but we are.” He smoothed his finger over the hoof prints. “See how they stop? That’s where the treasure is.”
Mallory laughed. “Do you know what this means?”
“I sure do.” He picked her up and swung her in a circle. “It means your old man wasn’t crazy. And if we’re really lucky, you’ll be a wealthy woman.”
Laughter bubbled out of her. “You mean we’ll be wealthy, don’t you?”
“It’s yours.” He set her down.
“No, it’s ours.” She moved to the horses. “But it’s neither one of ours until we find it. So let’s get cracking.”
“We can’t.” His words stopped her in her tracks.
“What?” She spun around. “Why not?”
“It’s on public land. I can’t be out there.” He rubbed his neck. “I can’t risk it.”
All her joy evaporated. “Oh, Mike. No.”
“I can’t take the chance. I already have too many problems with the SRPL. If they caught me digging up public lands, they’d crucify me. I just can’t do it.”
Mallory put her hands on her hip. “Maybe not, but I can.”
“What are you saying?” He waved his hand toward the horizon. “Do you have any idea how big that area is? I think I know where the treasure is, but I can’t be sure. You can’t go traipsing around out there without a guide. It’s too dangerous.”
“We can’t give up.” Her stomach knotted. There had to be a way to find the treasure without bringing down the wrath of the SRPL. But how? She paced a few feet, then turned around and came back. “Mike, what if you drew me another map, this one with the missing edge? I can go alone. I’m used to be being in the desert. If the environmentalists see me, I can pretend to be just a person walking in the desert.”
“It’s not safe.” He crossed his arms.
“This is the best we’ve got. I won’t take chances. Promise.” Although her nerves were jumping under her skin, she smiled at him. “I can do this.”
“I don’t like it.” He jutted out his jaw.
“Where do you think it is? Near Goldfield or Tortilla Flat? If it’s close to one of the towns, you could go there and wait for me. That way you wouldn’t be so far away.”
He considered her. She waited for him to think about it. Finally he said, “I guess it’s worth a try.”
~*~
Mallory glanced at Mike. His jaw was set and he stared at the road, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. She knew he hated the idea of her going into the desert alone. But she’d prepared well, and she’d been on dozens of trips in the Nevada wilderness with small groups. On those trips, she’d been in charge and she knew how to think ahead. She leaned forward and checked her backpack again. Four liters of water, high-protein snack bars, a two-way radio, her flashlight. A small shovel. A thin, hundred-foot rope and a small first-aid kit. Also, her jacket and a light blanket.
“Let’s go over this again. I’ll drop you off by the road and drive on to Goldfield. I’ll wait there until six o’clock. If I haven’t heard from you by then, I’m coming to look for you.” Mike pierced her with his gaze. “What time does your watch say?”
“Two o’clock on the dot.”
He double checked his. “Okay. Mallory, don’t do anything foolish.”
“I won’t,” she promised. “I don’t want to get hurt.”
Drawing near the drop-off spot, he pulled to the side of the road and parked. He leaned over as if to kiss her, then pulled back. “Screw it. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you go alone.”
Mallory didn’t want him to get in trouble with the Salt River people, but her heart swelled. “Mike, I don—”
“I’m going. That’s final.” He pulled off the road into a clump of Palo Verde trees. “No more talk. If we’re going to get there in daylight, we’ve got to move quick.”
She jumped out and locked the door. “Lead the way.”
He looked around. “There’s Weaver’s Needle. I think it’s there.”
~*~
An hour later, they stood at the foot of Weaver’s Needle. Mallory looked up at the craggy cliffs and drew a deep breath. “Where do you think the mine, or gold is?”
“I don’t know.” Mike took the map he’d drawn for her out of his hip pocket and spread it out on the ground. He pointed. “The ranch is there. We’re here. Remember how the hoof prints just stopped? I think they were here.” With his index finger on the spot, he stood and looked around.
Mallory followed the direction of his eyes, but nothing stood out.
“There.” He pointed into the distance. “I think I see it.”
She didn’t see anything but more sand and cactus. “Where?”
He knelt down and laid the map on the ground and began counting the hoof prints. “One, two, three, four, five….”
“What are you doing?” Had he lost it?
“I think each one of these marks signifies a certain length. A foot, maybe.” He stood and took a long step. “No, not far enough.”
“What about a furlong? That’s horse related. And it’s what, an eighth of a mile?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think Apaches knew that term.”
“What about a horse length? Is there an average?”
“I don’t know.” He looked at the ground. “But I would guess around six feet. Yeah, that fits.” He began to walk, studying the ground as he went.
Mallory followed.
He stopped abruptly. “It should be here.”
Mallory bumped her nose into his back. “Ow.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Sorry.”
“What do you see?” She moved to his shoulder.
“Nothing.”
She fought back her disappointment. It wasn’t as if she expected there to be a big red X marking the location. Depending on how long ago the gold had been buried, all the landmarks could be different. “Where’s the ranch from here?” she asked.
“There.” He pointed directly in front of them. You can just see it from here. You’d have to be on top of Weaver’s Needle to really get a good look.”
She grabbed his arm. “Mike, tha
t’s it. Don’t you see? The ranch is it. I mean the X is.”
He drew his brows together. “I don’t understand.”
“My half of the map had an X where the ranch is located. That’s where the gold is.” She clapped her hands. “Yes. I get it now. The hoof prints led us here to this spot and then stopped. You can see the ranch from here. The X on the map marks the ranch.”
“There’s no mine there,” he said.
“Are you positive?” She was already turning away. “Wendell Wallace thought there was. So did my father.”
“But what they both missed was the location,” he said.
“Yes, but we have the answer.” She grinned at him.
“What?” He gaped at her.
“The petroglyphs. We stopped too soon. When we decipher the rest of them, we’ll find the treasure. We figured out this much so we’re on the right track. Now we need to go back and decode the rest.”
~*~
Mallory sketched the last symbol as night fell.
“You done?” Mike asked.
She folded the paper and slipped it into her jacket. “Yeah.”
“Let’s go in and eat. We can look at your drawings there.” He moved toward the horses. After mounting, she let him lead the way. Zorro picked his way carefully through the dark and they reached the road in record time.
Something glittered near the offensive signs.
Mike apparently didn’t notice and continued to ride.
“Wait,” she whispered. A shadow moved. “Look.”
He slowed and twisted around in his saddle. “What?”
“There’s something there by the gate.” She kept her voice low. “See it?”
He scanned the dark, and shrugged. “Just the signs.”
She didn’t think so, but he seemed so unconcerned that she cued Zorro forward. The horses didn’t seem alarmed, so whispering that it was nothing but her overactive imagination, she tried to ignore the way her skin tingled and her scalp tightened. Maybe it was just a rabbit. Or a javelina. No, the horses would notice. Something was there in the dark. She was sure of it.