OTHER BOOKS BY MARY CONNEALY
Cowboy Christmas (a prequel to Deep Trouble)
SOPHIE’S DAUGHTERS SERIES:
Doctor in Petticoats
Wrangler in Petticoats
Sharpshooter in Petticoats
LASSOED IN TEXAS SERIES:
Petticoat Ranch
Calico Canyon
Gingham Mountain
MONTANA MARRIAGES SERIES:
Montana Rose
The Husband Tree
Wildflower Bride
Nosy in Nebraska (a cozy mystery collection)
© 2011 by Mary Connealy
Print ISBN 978-1-60260-149-9
eBook Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-242-6
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-243-3
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
Cover design: Lookout Design, Inc.
For more information about Mary Connealy, please access the author’s website at the following Internet address: www.maryconnealy.com.
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683, www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
Printed in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Discussion Questions
Author bio
DEDICATION/ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book is dedicated to my new grandson. He’ll be here by the time this book comes out, but this dedication has to be turned in NOW. His parents are sure he’s a boy. So I’m being brave and claiming that truth months before it’s been made official. Welcome to the family little one. This grandmother business is fantastic.
And I would like to acknowledge three books I referred to often while writing Deep Trouble, beyond my own research and one long-ago visit of my own to the Grand Canyon. The first is Hiking Grand Canyon National Park, a Falcon Guide. I went over and over and over the maps and trails in this book trying to figure out where my heroes could have found a lost village and descended into the canyon. The True North Series: Your Guide to the Grand Canyon-A Different Perspective by Tom Vail, Michael Oard, Dennis Bokovoy, and John Hergenrather—this book is full of the most dazzling pictures of the canyon along with many fundamental facts accompanied by scripture. The Man Who Walked Through Time by Colin Fletcher is one man’s impressions of the canyon as he walked through it.
These books helped me immensely. I tried to do justice to the Grand Canyon, even though the more I researched it, the more I realized I could only do my best and fall short of its true majesty.
And I’d like to thank fellow author Sandra Leesmith. She lives near the Grand Canyon and gave me a few details that really made the book come alive. Thank you, Sandra.
One
May 1881
Where’s the gold?”
Shannon Dysart staggered back in the face of her guide’s fury then squared her shoulders. Showing weakness to Lobo Cutter was a mistake. Hiring him was a mistake. Leaving St. Louis was a mistake.
“Mr. Cutter, I employed you to help me find an ancient city. We’ve done that. It’s spectacular. Imagine the research—”
“A city of gold.” Cutter stormed right up to Shannon’s face. The spurs on his boots made an ugly metallic ring with every step. “Them was your own words when you asked me to sign aboard this trip into the West.”
Shannon stepped back again, and her foot slipped into nothingness. She glanced back at the dead drop behind her.
Cutter’s fists clenched and moved too close to the Colt six-shooter in his holster. He was a brute of a man, brought along mainly to handle the pack animals. But once they’d found this place, he’d worked as hard as any of the six people in their expedition searching these ruins.
But he’d finally faced the same fact Shannon just had—after three days of searching this ancient cliff city: there was no gold.
“I wasn’t searching for this city to make myself rich, Mr. Cutter. My father’s research was—”
“Your father was an old fool. Everyone in the West has heard the stories of Delusional Dysart.”
Everyone in the West? Shannon flinched. She hadn’t realized that. Everyone in the world of ancient studies, yes, had come to reject her father’s work. Professor Delmer Dysart. The Delmer had been twisted into Delusional. Everyone in the three universities that had fired him sneered at his theories. But everyone in the West, too? What had her father done to be so infamous? It was the rejection and outright mockery by the other scholars of ancient history that drove Shannon to retrace her father’s footsteps and prove him right.
The rest of the world was enamored of ancient Greece and the ruins of Rome, but her father had believed America had its own ancient wonders. Chief among them the Seven Cities of Gold. He’d devoted his life to searching for the lost kingdom of Quivera. But these abandoned cliff dwellings were fascinating. A find of great importance. No gold, true, but still of scientific merit.
“Where are we going next?” Cutter stepped closer and jabbed Shannon in the chest with a beefy finger. She had no room left to back away. He looked savage, more animal than man. His teeth were bared.
No man had ever put hands on her before, and her heart pounded with fear even as she fought to remain calm and use reason on this unreasonable man.
Her father’s maps, what was left of them, were hidden in a pocket she’d sewn into the lining of her riding skirt. Shannon had been painfully careful never to let any of this group see where she hid them.
“I want to stay here longer, Mr. Cutter.” Shannon could take notes for weeks, and just this place alone would help her gain respect in the field of ancient studies. But her father’s name would be even more deeply blighted because he hadn’t brought out news of this place. Instead, he’d ignored it and gone on searching for gold. “We’ve got all summer to travel on. These ruins are beautiful. There’s no gold, but—”
Cutter grabbed the front of her gingham blouse with one hand and her hair with the other. “Shut up.”
Shannon saw her dark braid gripped like it was a leash in his massive hands and was so shocked she couldn’t even cry out in fear. She was an academic like her father. She’d spent her life studying books and artifacts. This expedition was her first attempt at finding old ruins. And it was certainly her first time to be threatened and abused by an uncivilized brute.
“We go now.” He lifted her to her tiptoes. “I know you’ve got another map. Hand it over.”
“Stop this right now.” Shannon’s temper erupted. “I am paying you—”
Cutter, with Shannon’s blouse clutched in one hand, shoved her backward. She felt t
he ground crumble under one foot and grabbed at the man’s ugly fist.
“The map. Where is it?”
Keeping control of her maps was something Shannon was fanatic about, but she was also a bit paranoid, which might make all the difference now. She wouldn’t give up too easily. “No, they’re mine.”
Another shove and her feet went out from under her. She dangled over the edge of the cliff dwelling. His grip was the only thing keeping her from plunging to her death.
A frantic look around the cave showed the avid greed in the faces of the others, including two women she’d brought along for propriety’s sake. They’d seemed so helpful and honorable, excited even, as they’d searched the cliff dwellings for the last three days. Until they’d reached this last cave and found only more rock.
The people with her were all on Cutter’s side. She’d hired the man on a recommendation from someone she respected at the university. Cutter was known for tracking in the West. He’d offered to find a crew, including women, so all would be proper. Including her, six of them had made this journey. Now all of her traveling companions practically licked their lips as Cutter tried to shake loose a secret that led to a city of gold.
“The map. Now. Or I let go then search your dead body.” He shook her so hard her head whipped back and forth. She was strangling, and a rending sound told her the fabric Cutter had a grip on wasn’t going to hold.
A compulsive glance down was dizzying. They were on the highest level of the cliff houses. A ladder was the only way up. Cutter was showing her there were two ways down.
“I’ll give it to you. Please, pull me back.”
Cutter yanked her back to solid ground then threw her down at his feet. Her head struck rock, light burst behind her eyes, and the air was battered out of her lungs. Gasping and disoriented, she could only scoot away, on her back, as one of the women knelt beside her and dug deep in Shannon’s pockets.
“No!” Shannon shoved at the woman’s hands. Ginger. With tight curls of hair and crooked teeth that hadn’t looked ugly until just now. “Get away from me.”
Ginger backhanded her across the face, and her head cracked against stone again. Her vision blurred.
Cutter went to her knapsack that she always kept at hand.
“Go down and search her bedroll,” Cutter ordered.
Shannon felt warm liquid run over her lips and reached up to find her nose bleeding. Ginger frisked Shannon with crude, rough hands and glared as if she wanted an excuse to strike again.
Pressing her wrist to her nose to staunch the flow of blood, Shannon let the woman’s hands roam over her. What choice did she have? She could only pray Ginger wasn’t smart enough to suspect Shannon’s tricks.
The two other men in the expedition scrambled down the ladder, the rungs creaking. Shannon wondered how old that ladder was. They’d found it lying on one of the lower levels of the cliff houses and had used it, but very carefully. It was missing every other rung at least, and the wood was brittle from age. There were no trees close by to build another.
They’d found handholds to climb to the lower caves, but when those had revealed no gold, the upper levels had taunted them. This morning they’d risked using that ladder and climbed up here to search and find… nothing.
Shannon had talked of research and history and truth, and these ruins were magnificent. But when she’d risked her neck to climb that old ladder and found only more rock and dirt, she’d admitted in her heart that she’d wanted the gold, too.
“I’ve got something.” Ginger pulled a map out of Shannon’s pocket triumphantly. She unfolded it with reckless speed.
“Be careful of that.” Shannon sat up and reached for it.
Ginger shoved Shannon flat on her back. With a harsh laugh Shannon had never heard from the woman before, Ginger rose to her feet and turned to the other woman in the expedition.
Lurene was a quiet woman, dark haired and hardworking. Of all of them, Lurene had been the friendliest. But none showed on her face now. Only cruelty and sharp intelligence as she reached for the battered map Shannon had found among her father’s effects. “Just take her whole saddlebag,” Lurene ordered. Yes, the woman ordered Cutter. When had Lurene started giving orders? Lurene studied the papers Ginger had found.
“You’ll never understand that map without my help. My father encoded it.”
“I’ve been watching you.” A smile revealed a row of wolfish teeth that looked sharp enough to rip someone’s throat out. “I’ve figured out the code you’re using.”
Shannon’s stomach twisted as Lurene took one short stride to be right at her side. “We don’t need you anymore, Miss Dysart.”
Shannon got her elbows braced, waiting for the next shove.
With a soft whoosh of metal on leather, Lurene produced a razor-sharp knife.
A moan of pure terror escaped Shannon’s clenched jaw.
“Don’t kill her.” Cutter came up beside Lurene.
“We have to. I don’t want her alive. If she gets to a town, she can call in a marshal, and we’ll all have a price on our heads.”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Cutter’s smile chilled Shannon’s blood to ice.
Lurene looked away from Shannon. “We’ve got no choice.”
“Sure we do. A choice that’s a lot more fun than slitting her throat.”
Shannon swallowed hard. She was very fond of her throat. And considering the cruelty of these people, what could Cutter have in mind that was more… fun?
“We leave her here.” Cutter laughed.
“She might be able to walk out. We can’t risk it.”
“No, I don’t mean here.” Cutter made a grand gesture at the rugged wasteland around the cliff village. Then he pointed at his feet. “I mean here.”
A smile broke out on Lurene’s face that showed those canine teeth again. “And take the ladder.”
Their smug satisfaction doubled the pace of Shannon’s terrified pulse.
“No, please! You can’t!” They’d been here three days. They’d worked hard trying to reach the treacherous upper caves without that ladder. They’d found it too sheer, completely lacking in footholds. Then they’d found the ancient ladder, nearly buried in generations of accumulated desert sand. The very existence of the ladder showed that the folks who built these dwellings had needed them to get to this top row of homes.
She regretted crying out instantly. It only made these outlaws happier that she was frightened.
“After you.” Cutter tugged his hat low on his brow. His words sounded grand and gentlemanly. Instead, they were obscene considering what they planned for her.
Ginger headed down. Lurene was right after her.
Cutter turned to Shannon, and his look was pure evil.
She had a heart-sickening moment to realize she was here, alone with him. Defenseless. Bleeding. Trapped.
Then he laughed and left her.
Alone with no water. No food. No way down.
She saw the top of the ladder wobble, and even knowing it was futile, she threw herself at it and caught it, stopping it from falling away. She looked down at Cutter, and the man looked up.
He let go of the ladder with a smile on his face, and for a second she thought maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he’d give her a fighting chance to walk out of here.
Instead, he pulled his gun and aimed straight at… the ladder. Aiming off to the side, he blew one rung away, then a second and a third. His bullets ricocheted and hit the cave.
Screaming, Shannon hung on doggedly to her only chance for escape. Then the side of the ladder in her right hand snapped. Shards of wood cut her hand, and she cried out again to the sound of Cutter’s laughter. She pulled her hand back to find she held a foot-long section of wood. Useless.
Then the shooting changed, aimed straight for the roof of her cave.
Shannon felt a bullet hit just inches from her head and shatter a rock that gouged into her skin. She rolled for the back of the cave, screaming in terro
r.
Two
Gabriel Lasley heard gunfire. Next screaming. He spurred his horse and raced toward the trouble with a prayer on his lips.
It sounded miles away, but he couldn’t be sure. Sound carried forever in the desert. Canyon walls echoed, and soon enough the sound seemed to come from all directions.
But Gabe had spent years riding with the cavalry, and he knew the land.
The gunfire died away.
The screaming cut off.
The thunder of his horse’s hooves and the wind rushing past his ears were the only sounds. But he knew right where the screaming and gunfire had come from. Or he hoped he knew.
Investigating would send him on a long run in the wrong direction—away from the nearest town and a badly needed drink of water. But a woman screaming, out here where there weren’t any women, well, Gabe couldn’t see he had much choice. Her screams, long faded to silence, were still in his head, begging for help.
He slowed as he drew near the spot where he was sure the trouble had come from. Caution. He saw tracks and followed them to what looked like a dry spring bed up a rugged hill. The tracks were fresh. Whatever had happened here had to be the source of the gunfire and screams. It also was clearly over.
He slipped the tie-down loose on his Colt and followed the tracks with the care of a man who’d ridden for the cavalry for nearly a decade. He was too late to stop whatever had happened, but maybe not too late to dig a grave and see the dead given some respect, see if there were families to contact.
He got to the top of the narrow arroyo and pulled his horse to a dead stop. He was looking at something he couldn’t believe.
A mountain carved up into—homes?
Shaking his head, he looked closer, trying to make the structure in front of his eyes something created by nature. But it wasn’t. These were man-made. The lowest levels had structure to them. Rockwork that formed walls. There were depressions in the rocks above the structures. Cave openings, multiple levels of them. He counted four layers, one above the other, of what had to be dwellings of some kind. And now abandoned.
Deep Trouble Page 1