“That’s another thing. You said Pai or Yavapai. I was sure my father’s code referred to Hopi. If I’m right, then there must be others living down there.”
“No, none.” Hozho didn’t hesitate a second.
“None that you know of, Hozho. There might be other groups down there. You say it’s rugged—how can you be sure of who all lives in the canyon? Have you or your people been all through it? Are they a large enough group to have been sure no others dwell in the bottom of the canyon?
The parson came up behind Gabe. “My motive for going was to visit members of my flock, and those folks live to the southwest.”
“If you’ve never gone the way I want to go,” Shannon said, “maybe you’ve missed members of your flock.”
Shannon kept her spine rock solid. She would not be swayed. She had to obey this map, and unless she handled this exactly right, she was going to lose the Tsosis and Parson Ford. And she couldn’t go on alone with Gabe… assuming he stuck with her. Could she do it alone?
She didn’t think so. Maybe she needed to return to a city. Flagstaff was many miles in the wrong direction, but they’d have a telegraph. She could get a bank to send a wire east and confirm that she had money and arrange the funds to be sent, then write bank drafts and finance a new trip. She’d get money, hire people loyal to her… like… Lurene and Lobo Cutter. With a tired sigh, she knew her judgment wasn’t the best. She’d probably be better off alone.
“Well, I have to follow my map. I’m sorry. If you feel you must go to the south, I regret that, but my whole expedition is for the purpose of following my father’s map, and he says there’s a trail into the canyon farther north. Of course my promises to pay you end now if you abandon me.”
She took a deep breath and faced Gabe. “You can’t go on with me if the others leave. If I could have a share of the food, I’ll go on alone.”
“Are you crazy?” Gabe exploded. “You can’t be on your own out here!”
“I certainly don’t want to be.” Shannon fell silent, her eyes flicking between Gabe and the others, praying they’d stick with her.
Gabe stared into her eyes and must have figured she meant what she said because he turned to the others. “When I set out on this trip, agreed to go along with her, I figured her map would lead her nowhere, so I’d ride along, mop her tears when she was forced to give up, and then get her to safety.” Gabe smiled at her in the least friendly way imaginable, like she was a child being humored, and he wasn’t even trying to pretend anything else.
Her fist clenched, and she satisfied her anger by picturing herself slugging him right in the nose.
“So, how long will it take to ride to the edge where this trail doesn’t exist?” Gabe arched one brow at the group.
Hozho scowled. “Not long. We should be nearly there by tonight. The canyon is much closer to us if we go straight west. The southwest route would take another day or two. We can follow your map.” She gave Shannon a very clear “you’re stupid” look.
It wasn’t the first time Shannon thought about just how rich her family was and how much she didn’t like being treated like this. All that money had, she was now realizing, smoothed the path of her life pretty well.
Of course she’d always gone her own way, much to her mother’s dismay. Shannon tried endlessly to be included in her father’s studies as a way to earn a place in his life. Her mother really hated that.
But her mother was obsessed with the family’s status in society. She rarely let a conversation go by without working in the words, “The Astor branch of my family…” or “The Campbell side of my family….”
Well, Shannon’s family tree had more than one set of roots. She considered herself more Dysart than Astor or Campbell or Fontaine—her mother’s maiden name. And her mother’s tenuous connection to the Astors hadn’t translated into any great business sense on Shannon’s part, but it had led to plenty of money. Even Mother’s snooty Campbell relatives went back to a fur trader who made his fortune trapping in the Rocky Mountains. A tough man.
St. Louis was purely civilized these days, but it wasn’t that long ago that it had been the far edge of the wilderness. There was still a rawness to the town that helped Shannon find people who would go west with her without much trouble.
Although, considering the “left to die alone” situation, she should have taken more trouble. She decided now wasn’t the time to demand respect. If she could get them to ride along with her with a sneer on their faces, she’d take it. Then she’d find her city of gold and make them all admit she was right all along. She liked that plan fine. “So you’ll go?”
Hosteen shrugged. “I can find water on the northwest trail. We won’t die.” Which wasn’t exactly eagerness, but Hosteen sounded resigned.
“Fine, then we’ll go that way.” Hozho had a look like a depressed hound dog. “No point in not following her map. If her map doesn’t lead to the Pai village, then it’s a long way to visit a village with people in it we don’t know. I’ve got no family there.” She shook her head.
Shannon ignored that pessimistic shaking head and grabbed hold of those words, because if the elderly woman didn’t accompany them, she’d have to go on alone for propriety’s sake or go back. “Parson, will you come?”
“Of course. Maybe there are more people this direction.” His voice said clearly that he doubted it. “If there are, I’ll bring them the good news of Jesus Christ.”
“All right, Shannon, we go to the north of that big rock right there.” Gabe seemed demoralized but willing to hang on for the rest of the ride.
Beggers and choosers came to Shannon’s mind. She wouldn’t demand a good attitude.
“We’re not riding on tonight, Tyra.” Abe raised his voice to be heard over the squeal of the incoming train that was braking only a few yards away.
She was enraged, so it was her distinct pleasure to yell right back at her brother-in-law. “You’re getting to be an old man. Your brother might be fighting for his life, and all you can do is hunt for a comfortable bed.”
It was pitch dark. They’d pushed so hard since they’d left home that both them and their horses had been worn to the nub. They’d been in town for a couple of hours, but Abe and Pa had spent that time working hard hunting down any information they could find about the telegraph Abe had received. Tyra had been left idle to fidget and fret about the delay. Pa had found the mule skinner who’d sent the wire, just back in Flagstaff from another trip packing supplies.
Abe’s look was so dismissive that Tyra wanted to strangle him. She’d have to strangle her father, too, unfortunately, because Pa said they wouldn’t push on tonight. “The mule skinner gave me directions for the settlement where he met Gabe. It’s a half day’s ride from here, and not much water along the way; and what’s there is hard to find. We aren’t going riding through a rugged land like that in the dark when we’re this tired and our horses are spent.”
The train shrieked to a halt, and a blast of steam blew out of the side.
Tyra refused to admit she was exhausted, too. “Reckon old folks like you and Pa need to rest your weary bones from time to time.”
Pa had led the horses to a watering trough, so he wasn’t there to growl at Tyra, which was probably why she had the nerve to be so rude.
Abe chuckled and refused to engage in the fight she was spoiling for. “Let’s go see if the hotel has a meal they can rustle up, baby sister.”
If Tyra managed to drag Gabe to the altar, Abe’d be her brother twice over. She liked that real fine because she liked Abe a whole lot better than her own bossy big brothers.
Pa stood across the street from the hotel near the tracks. He was dickering with the livery owner about the cost of feeding and bedding down the horses.
“I’ll go see if they’ve got rooms. Best hurry before any folks get off the train in case the hotel fills up.” Abe went up a step to the board sidewalk and entered the hotel.
A man in a black suit jumped off the train a
nd set a box on the ground for a step. People began straggling off. The first to appear were men, one after the other until six of them were heading for the hotel. The group had a determined look, no stretching or casual talk between them. They were filthy, sooty, and sweat-stained, but they were well dressed.
Abe came back outside. His eyes narrowed as he passed the men, studying them, taking their measure. Then he reached Tyra’s side.
Pa came up on her other side a bit fast as if he’d rushed to her side before those men got to her.
“I rented two rooms,” Abe told her and Pa.
“Why not three?” Tyra asked.
The six men all trooped past her in single file, walking behind her father’s back. Tyra noticed the last of the men, his shoulders slumped, his clothes travel-stained, walked as if his feet weighed a hundred pounds each. As he drew even with her, he looked up, directly over Pa’s shoulder.
Their eyes met. In the dim light cast from the hotel window, she couldn’t make out the color, but she wanted to look closer. For some reason it seemed really important that she know if they were blue or brown. The whole world seemed to slow down. His eyes on her. Her eyes on him. The screen door on the hotel had a hollow, distant sound.
Tyra could smell the dusty streets and the coal from the train. There was food in the hotel. All her senses were unusually acute. At the same time, the world seemed distant and vague.
He kept walking and staring at her as he moved by.
“We won’t need but one bed,” Abe spoke.
That jolted Tyra out of whatever strange slow-moving world she’d been in. She felt herself blush to think that Abe had said the word bed right in front of this man.
The man’s eyes narrowed. He walked smack into the step that led up to the hotel door and fell over on his face.
The man in front had opened the hotel door. The others helped the fallen man regain his feet. He glanced back and was close enough to the hotel lights that she could see his eyes were blue. Bright, beautiful blue. And his cheeks were bright red. He was blushing just like she was.
She smiled.
“You all right, boss?” One of the men clapped him on the back.
He looked away and glared at the man who’d spoken to him. “Call me Buck.” The man brushed the helping hands away, slapped at the knees of his black broadcloth pants as if they weren’t so filthy there was no saving them at this point, then looked right into Tyra’s eyes. His eyes fell shut as if his embarrassment had just doubled. He turned and must have opened his eyes again because he managed the steps just fine as he entered the hotel.
The door snapped shut, and the world seemed to come back to her father and Abe planning her life and talking of beds as if she were an infant. They headed into the hotel just as the man with the blue eyes and blushing face said to the hotel manager, “We got a telegraph from my fiancée telling me to find a man named Doba Kinlichee.”
“What?” Tyra charged the man and grabbed his arm. “What’s your business with Doba Kinlichee?”
He turned and she saw, up close, the man looked as tired as she, her pa, and Abe did. Bloodshot eyes. Bristly beard stubble. He smelled to high heaven, too. As she was sure she did. But his eyes flashed with smarts, and he had the squarest jaw and the straightest nose she’d ever seen.
He stared at her for much too long. Then his eyes rose and went past her. “You’re looking for the Kinlichee fellow?”
“Yes,” Tyra said.
“We are,” her pa said.
Buck responded to her pa. “I got a telegraph saying my… my…” He stumbled over the next words, glanced at Tyra, then said, “A young lady named Shannon Dysart was in danger, and she was staying at a settlement north of Flagstaff. She said the place was owned by a man named Doba Kinlichee.”
My what? Tyra wondered.
Abe came up beside Tyra on the left. “We’re heading out there tomorrow. I’m Abe Lasley.” He extended his hand. “My brother, Gabe, said there was trouble. He mentioned someone tried to kill a young woman and, well, he didn’t say a lot, but I didn’t like the sound of it. We decided to ride up here and help him get shut of whatever trouble was doggin’ him and get him back home.”
Pa appeared on Tyra’s right. A glance told her he was taking the young man’s measure and Buck was coming up short.
His clothes weren’t right for the West. They weren’t wrong, just too new, despite the stains. His Stetson was bent wrong. Most cowpokes broke theirs in with living, tugs and twists that shaped a hat until it shaded the eyes and protected the backs of their necks from the sun and rain. His broadcloth pants were pure black, not faded one bit. His boots, well, Tyra knew boots, and these were expensive ones, but they had barely a scuff on them.
He wore no six-gun, and she saw dried blood on his hands, right where hands would bleed if a man without calluses rode long and hard on horseback. He had a black vest on and a white shirt that had turned almost pure brown with dirt. And the real reason she knew he was a city boy—he didn’t wear any of this comfortably. Somehow it seemed as if he had on a costume. Which meant her pa was right now pegging him for a greenhorn, and there was nothing Pa enjoyed more than tormenting a city boy who was trying to find his way in the West.
Tyra had an almost uncontrollable urge to protect the man. She could size up a man, too, and though he might have a soft city look about him, his eyes were clear and direct. Nothing sly or dishonest about him. “You can ride out there with us.” Tyra felt Pa’s hand land heavy on her shoulder and wished she’d kept her mouth shut. But it was too late now.
My what? she wondered again.
“I’m Tyra Morgan.” She extended her hand, feeling a bit foolish because she didn’t shake hands often.
The man reached up and shook with such ease she knew even more he was used to city ways. “Buck Shaw.” He held her hand just a second too long then released her and turned to her father, his hand still out. “I would be grateful for any information you could give me about Shannon.”
Buck Shaw. Sounded western. Sounded tough. Maybe he’d toughen up to match his name with just a little help.
“I’m Lucas Morgan.” Pa shook, possibly squeezing a bit too hard, but Buck didn’t flinch. “Gabe didn’t say a name, just called her a young woman.” Then Pa looked at the hotelier. “Any chance you’ve still got some food in the kitchen? Even a loaf of bread, some cold meat. We could make our own sandwiches.”
“Got plenty left from supper. I’ll bring something out. Come in the dining room and sit a spell while I get you fixed up.” The man rounded the counter and hurried through double swinging doors that must lead into the dining room.
“We can sort this out, young fella. If your Shannon is with Gabe, then she’s in good hands. But we aim to find Gabe and fetch him home.” Pa looked at the men surrounding Mr. Shaw. “Looks like you brought some help with you.”
The men all nodded, quiet men that Tyra couldn’t quite judge.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Morgan. I’ll be grateful for any information you could share about Shannon’s whereabouts. And if she’s with your brother”—Buck turned to Abe—”from the sound of your telegraph, it sounds like he’s watching out for her. We’d like to join up with you and help with the hunt for both of them.”
“So who is Shannon, and how’d she end up with Gabe?” Tyra asked, dying of curiosity. Dying to ask, “My what?”
“This is men talk, Ty.” Pa never took his hand off Tyra’s shoulder as he guided her through the doors. “You sit there and keep quiet.” They were just a step ahead of everyone else, but Pa wasn’t one to care if he was overheard when he had an opinion to give or an order to be issued.
The dining room was nice, full of rectangular tables of various sizes. Pa aimed toward a big one that would seat eight if they pulled it out from the wall, which Pa did. The nine of them crowded around.
Pa urged her into a chair near the wall and took the one to her left so no one could sit by her. Abe sat around the corner at the foot of the
table so she had someone on each side, as if she were under guard.
Buck Shaw sat straight across from her. He had none of the wrinkles around his eyes a man got squinting into the sun for his whole life.
She wondered why he’d come here and just what this Shannon Dysart was to him. Not a sister, because they had different names—unlikely a woman wandering the West alone would be married. But family maybe. He’d said, “My…” then changed to “a young woman.”
Tyra was left mulling just exactly, My what?
Fifteen
That’s the rock formation.” Shannon jabbed a finger at the oddly shaped outcropping. It had a pile of stones at its base that could not have occurred naturally.
The world seemed to stop past that odd-shaped parapet and the small pyramid of fist-sized rocks as Shannon rode toward it. The rocks had been scattered and toppled a bit, but they were still a clear stack, and they didn’t belong there. No place for them to have fallen from. “My father said he left a cairn of stones just like that.” She spurred her horse, its shadow cast long in front of her with the rising sun at her back.
“Cairn?” Gabe asked. “What’s ‘at mean?”
“Uh, stack.”
“Why didn’t he just say stack then? Why didn’t he just—” Gabe sucked in a breath that sounded like part of the wind.
The world fell away at Shannon’s feet, and she jerked back on the reins so hard her horse reared and fought the bit. A gasp escaped even as her throat swelled shut. She swung down off her horse, only distantly noticing the others coming up beside her and Gabe. From each, a gasp to match hers and Gabe’s was the only sound… save the wind.
She wondered if every person who ever rode up to this place made exactly the same sound. Very possible because there were no words sufficient to express it.
She was only distantly aware of her companions dismounting in complete silence, absorbing the beauty of the canyon that opened before them. Time crept by, but there would never be enough time to absorb something this magnificent.
Deep Trouble Page 15