Anne Marie Duquette

by She Caught the Sheriff

  Wyatt frowned, but Jasentha ignored him. She merely slung the last of her ropes over her shoulder, put on her miner’s helmet with its attached light and distributed helmets to the other three.

  Jasentha led the way. One by one they squeezed into the small opening at the entrance. Wyatt followed her, Caro close behind; Catfish brought up the rear.

  As before, the sun’s rays quickly faded into a gloomy coolness that soon changed into a black chill. Jasentha turned on her headlamp, and everyone else did the same. Caro was the first one to switch on her flashlight, for the others exhibited a surefootedness she didn’t feel.

  “Take your time,” Jasentha suggested. “I don’t want you hurt.”

  But Wyatt had already fallen back to walk at Caro’s side. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “And I’ll keep an eye on him.” Caro gestured Wyatt ahead. “If I need anything, Sheriff, I’ll yell.”

  “As you wish.” Wyatt returned to his earlier position.

  The four of them made steady progress to the large chamber Caro had visited with Wyatt. Already the bats were returning to their den through a small opening high in the ceiling. Caro hadn’t observed it before; her equipment hadn’t picked up that crack. In fact, she would never have noticed it even now if it wasn’t for the incoming traffic. As the nocturnal mammals settled down for the day’s rest, Caro unclipped her navigator from her belt, intending to make a manual adjustment.

  “I’ll do that if you want,” Jasentha suggested.

  Caro looked up in surprise. “You know how to use one of these?”

  “Yes. I also know where this cave vents above ground. If you want your data to be accurate, I can help.”

  Caro immediately passed her instrument to their guide. As Jasentha busied herself with the adjustments, Caro checked carefully to make certain her hair was completely tucked under her miner’s hat, safe from the falling guano. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, then remembered Wyatt’s earlier words. “Sheriff, I thought you said we’d need oxygen to work around the bats.”

  “I thought we would.”

  “Wrong.” It was Jasentha. She gestured upward as she spoke. “With large colonies of bats like this one, ammonia gases usually do necessitate oxygen tanks. But this area is well-vented. Your mining caves get plenty of air, Sheriff. There’s a shaft that runs up to the natural cave system above. We’ll be entering some fair-size chambers.”

  “But those could be filled with bats, too!” Catfish protested.

  “They are,” Jasentha confirmed. “But one thing you don’t have to worry about is being able to breathe. The same shaft that provides the Silver Dollar chambers with air also vents the natural caves above. It goes straight up from the mine, then through the caves and up to ground level.”

  “Well, if you’re sure it’s safe,” Catfish grumbled.

  “I am,” she assured them. “We don’t need tanks any more than I need this.” Jasentha held out the navigator for Caro to take.

  “I didn’t know about the vent above us, Jasentha,” Wyatt said. “That’s why I wanted you here.”

  Jasentha didn’t comment but merely announced, “We go up.”

  “Up?” Caro couldn’t help saying. “We’re going to climb up through the air shaft?”

  “Yes. The footing will be damp and difficult, but the climb isn’t impossible if you’re careful.”

  The expedition continued on. Jasentha led them to the far end of the large chamber, toward the sloping wall. The ground was slick with layers of new guano upon layers of old, the smell overpowering, but it didn’t seem to bother their guide or Wyatt. Caro wasn’t thrilled to have fresh urine and droppings splatter her helmet and jacket shoulders. Neither was Catfish. He swore eloquently every time he was hit. Caro couldn’t help wincing a few times herself.

  “For someone who can work with the goriest of corpses, Caro, I didn’t think a little organic material would upset you,” Wyatt said smugly.

  “At least I’m not holding out for an oxygen mask,” she muttered to herself. But the tomblike atmosphere carried her words clearly.

  Jasentha giggled, the sound at odds with the quiet dignity she’d so far displayed.

  “Are you enjoying yourself, ladies?” Wyatt asked, annoyed.

  “I can only speak for myself, but I do believe I am,” Caro replied. That prompted another giggle from Jasentha. Even Catfish chuckled.

  It was Jasentha who broke up the festive mood. “Flashlights on your belts, please, and gloves on your hands. The rocks are sharp, and we’ll have to make do with the lamps on our helmets. Follow my footsteps. The climb gets steeper here. Go slow and pay close attention.”

  Steeper, it appeared, was putting it mildly! Caro thought fifteen minutes later as they labored up the rock wall. They were almost level with the bats on the ceiling, and yet still they continued to climb. The angle was steep, the footing slippery, and worse yet, Caro had no idea where they were headed. Even Wyatt had lost his bearings.

  “Where the heck are we?” he asked when Jasentha stopped to allow them a breather. Caro was panting heavily, as was Catfish. Wyatt was only slightly winded, while Jasentha didn’t seem tired in the least. Her voice was relaxed when she answered.

  “I told you, your mine connects with a series of natural caves directly above. I’m taking you from here to there.”

  “How long’s it gonna take? Damn!” Catfish scrubbed at the guano on the knees of his pants. When he noticed a splotch on one end of his fine, waxed white mustache, he became so frustrated he ran out of swear words. “This isn’t a job for a retired man, Wyatt! Jasentha, couldn’t you have taken us around this filth?”

  “There is another way.”

  “Now you tell us!”

  “You could’ve said something earlier,” Wyatt seconded.

  “It would have made no difference. The three of you could not have made the climb.”

  “I’m having a hard time with this one.” Caro took off her filthy gloves before reaching for her canteen and unscrewing the cap for a swig of water.

  “You may be slow, but at least you don’t complain,” Jasentha said pointedly.

  “Oh, I have my moments,” Caro admitted before taking another swallow. “Especially when it’s dark, I smell like guano, and—” she paused “—I don’t know what’s going on with Morgan.”

  “I don’t, either, but the sheriff can be trusted. If he believes Morgan is in here, we’ll find him,” Jasentha assured her.

  “In this dark?”

  “We’ll see daylight soon. After we climb up and around this next bend, we’ll come out on the floor of the caves. They umbrella over this mine for miles.”

  Wyatt paused, the canteen halfway to his lips. “I never heard about a set of caves connecting to the Silver Dollar before. I thought I knew every nook and cranny of this place. Obviously I was wrong.”

  “That’s because you aren’t a bat,” Catfish said, some of his good humor returning at the promise of daylight.

  “Or a people who spent generations concealed from their enemies in these mountains,” Caro added.

  Jasentha swiveled her head to face Caro. Even in the dim illumination of the battery-powered headlamps, Caro could see her surprise. “You know about the early Apaches?”

  “Some.” Caro drank one last swig of water and secured her canteen, aware of Jasentha’s close scrutiny but not disturbed by it.

  Jasentha said something to Wyatt, not in English or Spanish, that Caro wasn’t able to follow.

  “Am I missing something?” she asked curiously as everyone rose to their feet. She followed suit.

  “If I had wanted you to hear, Doctor, I wouldn’t have spoken Apache,” Jasentha replied, but her words were kind and her smile sincere.

  “Oh.” Feeling slightly chagrined, Caro pulled on her soiled gloves again. “Well, I’m ready when you are.”

  Jasentha checked on everyone, then adjusted her backpack and Wyatt’s. Catfish and Caro wore none.

  “About
ten more minutes, and we’ll be feeling the sun,” their guide assured them.

  Ten minutes to the dot, Caro saw that Jasentha was right. Warm sunlight streamed through the cold granite above them, illuminating handholds and toeholds that seemed old and well-worn.

  “You’ve been here often, haven’t you, Jasentha?” Wyatt asked quietly.

  “A few times,” was all she said.

  “More than a few,” Wyatt remarked, but he didn’t pursue the matter. Like the others, he was intent on climbing toward the sun. Below them, their earlier route faded into darkness, along with the smell of bats. One by one they switched off their headlamps. Another fifteen minutes of steep climbing, then they were over the ledge. The strong, dusty heat of blowing desert air hit their nostrils, and the sunlight—what there was of it—warmed their shoulders.

  Caro sighed, tilting her face toward the light in pure pleasure. “Hello, sky.” She slipped off her helmet with one hand and gulped in the clean air.

  Below them was the bat’s entrance to the caves and the mine, above them the cloudy sky, and all around them were the spires and pillars of strange rock formations. The massive rocks prevented any kind of a view—or even a detailed rendering on Caro’s navigational computer.

  “Where are we?” Wyatt asked their guide.

  “We’re a good mile above the valley floor, and still on Silver Dollar land.”

  “I’ve never climbed this area before. I always thought this particular formation was inaccessible without climbing equipment,” Wyatt marvelled.

  “Caves can be great shortcuts,” Jasentha said. “But right now we have to hurry. There’s a storm brewing. Follow me.”

  Even as she spoke, the sun dipped behind the mushrooming thunderheads. “Please leave on your hat,” Jasentha said to Caro. “There are falling rocks in this area. These mountains are very old—and many sections are heavily weathered.”

  Caro reluctantly put her hat back on, unable to suppress a shudder. Her soiled clothing, the prisonlike strangeness of the area, the rolling clouds above—it all threw an eerie pall over an already depressing situation. She knew how she’d be feeling if it was her sister who’d gone missing. Caro glanced at Wyatt. His face was tight and drawn, his worry and pain almost a palpable thing.

  Impulsively she put her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find him, Wyatt. I know we’ll find him.”

  “Maybe we already have,” was his grim reply. “Look.”

  All eyes swung to Jasentha, then followed the direction her finger was pointing. Despite the gusting winds of the brewing storm and the rolling clouds, there were birds aflight, large birds, gliding in a circular pattern that spelled trouble—or worse.

  “They’re…” Caro couldn’t finish, for she—and everyone else—recognized that black circle of death.

  Vultures.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “MORGAN…”

  Wyatt was the first to speak—if you could call his strangled gasp speaking. He was also the first to react. Without bothering to wait for Jasentha’s lead, he immediately started off through the winding, twisting maze of rock, using the circling vultures as an overhead guide. Caro and Catfish hurried to keep up. He was moving so fast even Jasentha had to hustle to catch up with him.

  “Sheriff, let me lead!” she called, but Wyatt was having none of it.

  “My brother’s out there!”

  Wyatt forged boldly ahead as if he’d been born among these rocks, instead of seeing them for the first time. The only thing he concentrated on was the vultures above and their ominous shadows on the uneven rocky ground at his feet. He felt a restraining hand on his shoulder. If it was Jasentha’s, he would have shaken it off.

  But he knew it wasn’t his guide’s. The shock of recognition that ran through his body, the warming of his skin against hers, told Wyatt it was Caro.

  “Please wait for Jasentha,” she said quietly. “You can’t help Morgan if you’re hurt yourself.”

  Wyatt stared at her. For a moment he hesitated, drawn to this woman and her compassion—for him and, he sensed, his brother. But then thoughts of Morgan flooded his mind, and the moment was gone.

  It had been enough time, however, for Jasentha to catch up and regain the lead. But with or without her, anyone could easily have found the yawning pit. They came upon it abruptly just around a bizarre cluster of sheared, offcenter rock formations.

  The very blackness of the hole before him made his head spin, and Wyatt wasn’t a man afraid of heights. He shone his flashlight down into its depths, but his beam couldn’t reach bottom. Caro’s beam joined his as she spoke. “Everyone! Flashlights and hats on! Center your lights with his! Now!”

  She snapped out the order with the forcefulness of a drill sergeant. Even the reserved Jasentha was scrambling to obey her. It suddenly struck Wyatt that Caro Hartlan was a damn strong player to have on his team. He felt a sudden rush of gratefulness that he filed away for later. Right now they had work to do.

  “Don’t get too close to the edges. We don’t want anyone else falling in,” Caro warned. Her flashlight and hat beams merged with his. Then Jasentha’s. Then Catfish’s. The strength of the single beam was wide and powerful, except for one side where the light was wavering. Wyatt realized that the shaky beam was his. His fingers clamped down hard on the flashlight and steadied it.

  When he did, his light caught on the bleached, off white shape of bone. “Morgan?” he gasped, his professional reactions gone, replaced by reeling emotions. Once more Caro’s logic sounded clear and true.

  “Morgan hasn’t been missing long enough to show up as a skeleton,” Caro said matter-of-factly. She lowered herself from her kneeling position to her belly and edged even closer to the pit. Jasentha reached for Caro’s belt to give her an extra margin of protection, but Wyatt’s hand was there first.

  “Be careful, Caro,” he said tersely.

  “Hey, careful’s my middle name. Everyone, follow my beam again. Same location.”

  Everyone did. Once more the beams merged, allowing . them all to focus on the bones below. Beneath his hand Wyatt felt the tense muscles in Caro’s back relax.

  “What?” he demanded.

  Caro sat up and the beams diffused once more. “Unless I’m sadly mistaken, our old friend from Boothill has been traveling again.”

  Wyatt couldn’t share her relief. He looked up and saw the circling scavengers of the desert. The turkey vultures, with their black feathers and bloodred throat that gave them their name, were still above. Still waiting, still circling.

  “Vultures don’t bother with stripped bones,” Caro said. “Merge the lights again.”

  “We’ll start from the north end and circle down to east, south and west,” Wyatt ordered. “Then everyone spiral in, same direction, tighter circle. Follow my lead.”

  There was no question as to who was in charge now. The other three did exactly as he asked. There wasn’t a sound as the light traveled in tighter and tighter circles. The bottom of the pit wasn’t wide, but its jagged ledges made coordination difficult and slow…

  Until Jasentha gasped aloud. “Is that a boot?”

  “You’ve got a good eye, Jaz. Track up on it,” Wyatt commanded.

  Again hats and hands coordinated the light’s focus. Wyatt watched the beam travel up past the legs to a beige khaki shirt—a beige that only a sheriff’s officer wore. And then, higher, up to the face.

  Wyatt nearly dropped his flashlight into the pit. “Oh, my God!”

  The other three leaned forward to confirm what his own eyes had already told him.

  “It’s Kimberly.”

  “Kimberly?” Catfish echoed. “Kimberly Ellis?”

  Wyatt nodded.

  “Is she…” Jasentha’s voice trailed off. She suddenly sounded very young, her confidence shaken.

  “I don’t know.” His own voice sounded strange. He’d found another person he loved, but not the brother who was missing. The sick fear in his heart grew as he reached for his backpack wit
h its first-aid gear and walkie-talkie.

  It was Catfish who voiced the words Wyatt himself didn’t dare say aloud.

  “But if that’s Kimberly, where in tarnation is your brother?”

  “We’ll worry about Morgan later,” Wyatt replied hoarsely. “Right now, we have to reach Kim.”

  Caro was already helping Jasentha take off her backpack. “Let’s get her out of there, Sheriff.” Caro glanced up at the ever-darkening sky. “Fast.”

  Wyatt tried to contact his office with his walkie-talkie, then realized he might not get an answer due to the pillars of rock interfering with reception and the gathering storm clouds disturbing the atmosphere. He tried again and again as Jasentha unpacked her climbing gear. By the time the ropes were anchored securely and the body harness unrolled and spread on the ground, Wyatt had given up.

  He reached for the buckles that would loosen the harness; its girth had been fitted for Jasentha and wouldn’t fit his larger body.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Caro demanded.

  “I’d like to know that myself,” Catfish said.

  Wyatt blinked at the concern in Caro’s voice. “I’m going after Kimberly.”

  “Bad idea.” Jasentha reached out to take the harness from his hands. “I’m the rock expert. You aren’t.”

  “That’s right,” Caro agreed. “Plus, Jasentha doesn’t weigh anywhere near as much as you, Wyatt. I think, for safety’s sake, for Kim’s sake, we need one strong man and one strong woman to pull her up.”

  “Hey!” Catfish protested. “What am I? The old gray mare?”

  “She’s right,” Jasentha said. “You are an elder. Your mind is wise and strong. Your body, as is the way of elders, is not.”

  “Kimberly might need medical help. I’m trained in first aid.” Wyatt stared straight at Jasentha. “I know for a fact that you aren’t.”

  Two spots of color appeared high on Jasentha’s cheeks. Wyatt watched her lose her temper for the first time since he’d known her. “You told me you accepted my authority as leader!”

  “Rocks, yes. Lives, no. Consider yourself demoted.”

  Caro intervened then. She curled her fingers around the harness with one hand, then reached for Wyatt’s shoulder with the other. “I’ll go down.”