Nick stopped suddenly. Above him, a narrow crevice reached deep into the mountain. Peering up into it, he noticed it led to a ledge—a ledge that would take him out of sight. No, the space was too small. He looked up the trail. If there was one, there’d be another.
A shout echoed through the trees. Nick froze. Was that Clem? Slashing his gaze sideways and back, he ceased his breathing and listened. When no more sounds came, he took a hesitant step forward, then paused. He scanned the surrounding area. Sunlight brightened the green overhead, the brown and gold leaves mounded at trail’s edge.
Could be hikers. Ladd land bordered the USFS, but Nick wasn’t familiar with where one began and the other ended. Moving forward, he remained wary.
Around the next corner, Nick found his sweet spot. The steep mountainous wall to his side opened up into a V-shaped gorge. Wide enough to accommodate his body, it offered enough rocks and branches to assist his climb. With one last glance up the trail, Nick hoisted himself up and into the mountain.
Wedging his backside into the hillside, Nick held gun in hand, aimed at the trail. Within minutes, he heard the pounding footsteps of someone running. Clem dashed by and Nick tracked his figure until he disappeared from sight. Was it Clem who had shouted? Was someone else at the rock?
Nick didn’t know, but he’d find out soon enough. He waited another few minutes, then eased himself down, reaching from branch to branch to prevent tumbling into a full-fledged slide. Once he hit the clay trail, he headed straight back to the site. Detouring off trail, he trekked through brush, over the forest floor matted with dead leaves, the occasional rock. The gurgle of a creek wound through the earth on the opposite side.
Arriving in the vicinity where Clem had stood only moments before, Nick detected no signs of digging, only ferns, twigs and other foliage flattened from repeated foot traffic. At first glance, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. He moved over to the large rocks, the ones Clem had been inspecting. Gray boulders of irregular shape protruded between trees and rhododendron, their surface a sheen of moss, dotted with patches of white fungus. Nick touched one of the stones, finding it cold to the touch. He flattened his palm and leaned forward, exploring fissures and cavities, up and around. He took a step to the side, ducked his head and sucked in his breath. Well I’ll be damned...
Instinct propelled him to check for onlookers. Through the black trunks of trees, leaves of green, over rocks and plants, he was alone. Nick exhaled and quickly rubbed the dirty streak in the rock, then examined his fingertips, holding them up to the scant rays of sunlight filtering down through the canopy above. The dust glittered ever so slightly as he turned his hand to and fro.
Son of gun—they’d found gold! Further scrutinizing the color variances, he noticed gouges in the jagged lines. He fingered them, studied them with a close eye. Definitely manmade. Someone had been chipping away at this rock, and by the looks of the damage, had walked off with quite a few chunks. Did Delaney know?
She must, he thought instantly. It explained her reticence to share. Explained her confrontation with the man with the gun. Explained Clem’s high-tailing it in here, concerned his secret had been discovered, the gold gone. Nick smiled, admiring the natural wonder, the flecks of shimmery dust, the geological secret hidden away in layers of stone for millions of years... It was incredible. He didn’t recall this part of Tennessee being known for gold. He dropped his gaze back to the vein. Yet here it was.
Nick looked around the immediate vicinity and searched for a rock, anything he could use to break off a chunk for himself. Spying one about the size of his fist, he grabbed it and struck the tip of the vein. Using the rock’s edge like an axe, he hacked away as large a piece as he could. Turning the bullet-sized piece of mineral between his fingers, he shoved it into his front pocket. Ditching his makeshift tool, he brushed his hands together and headed out. If this was really gold, the stakes for Ladd Springs had just quadrupled.
After leaving Felicity’s permission slip with the secretary in the front office, Delaney returned home, more eager than ever to get back to the site. She replaced her jacket with a long-sleeved jersey and headed up the mountain. The cool front had petered out, making way for warmer temps. Translated: she’d most likely be sweating before all was said and done. But the long-sleeves were necessary. She had no intention of adding to the collection of marks on her arms.
Trekking up the back side of the mountain, she made it to the ridge in forty-five minutes. Huddled between a twin pair of massive trunks, she downed the remainder of her water and slid the empty bottle into her backpack. Squatting, she peered down at the forest basin. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Would someone venture by soon?
Anger welled. Probably. Those looters probably made daily trips in here to steal the gold. Well she was going to put an end to it, once and for all. Double-checking her phone was on vibrate, she took the path to her left and hiked down to the “golden” boulder.
Slinking through the trees and brush, Delaney kept a watchful eye and sharp ear out for any trespassers. If she saw or heard anyone, her plan was to run to the opposite side of the basin and hide behind the clump of rhododendron. It was her best chance for eluding detection.
But she was still alone when her discovery loomed front and center before her. She retrieved her camera and snapped off a few more pictures. Leaning close, she zoomed in on the vein of gold and snapped three pictures in rapid succession, then examined them on her small screen. The flash had washed out the impact of gold. Pulling back, she took a few more. On inspection, she judged them washed out but passable.
Tucking the camera back in her pack, she looked around for something to collect a sample. In a burst of foresight, she had packed a plastic baggy to carry her specimen, so she could have it tested to be sure it was gold. Then, she could show it to Ernie and tell him everything. He’d probably still fight her right to title, but she was fairly confident he wouldn’t give it to Clem. Not with the knowledge the man was trying to swindle him, he wouldn’t.
Deciding on a thick stick as a tool, Delaney scraped at the stone, a smattering a dusty brown falling free. She grunted. Not good enough. Picking up a nearby rock, she hacked away at the line in the stone and managed to chip out a small fleck. She stared at it in disappointment. Hopefully it would be enough to suffice as evidence.
She sealed the bag and stowed it away in her backpack. Turning, she headed back for the trail. At this point, she would take her chances and hike the main trail. If she heard anything or anyone, she could dodge them by heading straight up—the way she had done last time. She hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but it was best to be prepared.
Trudging through ground foliage, she kicked a branch with her boot and climbed up the narrow pass leading up to the main trail. Pushing up through a Y-shaped branch, she crawled up and onto the path. If Nick had meant what he said, he’d probably already come and gone. He didn’t strike her as the type to “wait and see.” And if what he said about Clem was true, she knew that greedy slime ball would have been here first thing. Her breathing labored, Delaney picked up her pace to a slow jog.
“Dell!”
At the familiar voice, she jerked her head up. Her heart thwacked at the sight of Clem. Standing dead center of the trail, he stared at her. “What’s a matter? Ain’t you glad to see me?”
Her heart pummeled against her chest.
“I see you been visiting my stone again.”
“It’s not your stone,” she leveled, wrestling a building angst as the stakes were laid bare. Gun tucked in her boot, she couldn’t get to it. The camera was in her backpack. If Clem learned of her pictures, it was game over.
He smirked. “I found it first.”
“Trespassing on private property,” she spat. Mentally, Delaney raced through her options. She could turn and run, possibly outstripping Clem. She could stay and fight, though it would mean more injury to an already sore shoulder. But if she could cause him injury, it would be worth it. She’d about had abou
t enough of his attacks.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Clem jeered. “This place is gonna be mine, too, you watch and see. I already got Ernie convinced you’re in cahoots with that hotel man trying to steal his property.”
Delaney’s jaw dropped open. “What?”
He smiled thinly. “Oh yeah, I told him you two was sleepin’ together.” He cocked his head. “Well, you know what? He wasn’t too happy about hearin’ them words.”
Like a match to flame, the comment set fire to her resolve. “I will make you sorry you ever set foot on Ladd property.”
He chuckled, mocking her. “Oh, will you now? And how you gonna do that when—” Clem lunged at her. Delaney jumped back. Managing to grab the end of her sleeve, he pulled. She yanked against him, slugging him across the side of his face.
“Get her!” Clem yelled.
The large stranger from the day before emerged from behind a boulder. He was on her in seconds, locking burly arms around her from behind. Delaney twisted, kicked and pulled, thrusting her heels into his shins. He lifted her from the ground, wrenched her head backward. Delaney shrieked in pain.
“What’s a matter, tough girl?” Clem taunted. Rubbing a hand across his jaw, he spit on the ground. “You don’t seem so high and mighty now.”
“Clem,” she bit out between gritted teeth.
“Yes?” he asked, leering at her undulating body.
Muscles screeched in her neck. The smell of sweaty, dirty man flared her nostrils. His panting disgusted her. Crushed between them, her backpack cut through the thin jersey of her tee, reminding her exactly what she stood to lose. “Let me down!”
“No can do. You and me are taking a ride.” Clem gestured for the big man to follow. The third man materialized to join them, apparently lurking around the curve as the first two made their assault. He leered at her and licked his lips.
Panic rose sharply in her chest. She was the only one who knew about the gold. Other than Clem and these men, she was the only one who could prove that he was stealing from Ernie, from her. Unless Nick found it. But if these men were lying in wait for her, they may have already had their showdown with Nick. Damn them!
Delaney twisted against the man’s torso, kicking her legs for a shot at Clem. He leaped out of reach, and once again the big man wrenched her neck in warning.
Delaney ceased. The fool could crack her neck without even realizing it!
“Lets’ go,” Clem ordered his thugs, and the two men followed, dragging her with them.
As they plodded down the trail, Delaney hung uncomfortably in the big man’s hold. “Let me walk,” she growled.
“Nope,” Clem replied flatly. “You’ve proved you ain’t trustworthy. Jeb, here, will escort you instead.”
She stashed the name away. It could prove useful—once she freed herself. And free herself, she would. People would start looking for her when she didn’t show up at home. Home. A horrible sinking feeling filled Delaney. As it stood, her daughter would be the one to have to report her mother missing.
Chapter Eighteen
Annie pulled into the Sweeney compound with her daughter, Casey, in tow. Candi Sweeney was Clem’s sister and Annie’s best friend—the only one of the bunch worth making the trip down the junk-lined road—and she needed to talk. Candi was like her other half, her soul sister. The two had met in high school. Annie thought she was pretty and sweet and perfect—until she met the Sweeneys.
The black sheep in the Sweeney clan, Candi was one member of the family not at war with the Ladds. She was the daughter who wanted to earn her degree and encouraged Annie to do the same. She helped her study, encouraged her to try out for the cheerleading squad, even to audition for the starring role in a school play. And it was Candi who had urged her to go after Jeremiah. She claimed Annie was the prettiest girl in school and could have whatever boy she wanted. Annie hadn’t been as certain, but at Candi’s insistence she went after Jeremiah, and to her surprise, he showed an interest. Annie had been beside herself at the time.
Jeremiah Ladd liked her.
It wasn’t until he ran off to Atlanta with her sister Lacy that Annie uncovered the extent of his deception. Lacy was only the last in a long string of affairs. In the six months she and Jeremiah had been dating—or what she had believed to be dating—Jeremiah had slept with ten other girls. Ten. But Lacy was the most humiliating. Candi had been there for her, as sweet and caring as she could be, but it was Clem who took advantage of her devastation. One night, while out at the County Line Bar, he bought her drinks, danced with her, then took her back to his place. The rest was a blur, a nightmare Annie had been trying to black out of her memory ever since.
As they rolled past the rusted John Deere tractor, its front wheels flat, the weight of it sinking beneath years of neglect, Casey piped up, “I don’t know why I had to come with you.”
Annie glanced at her daughter. Sullen, moody, her jet black hair covering half her face, Casey wasn’t happy to be anywhere at the moment. “Because you’re grounded.”
Disgust wrangled Casey’s full lips into a frown, twisted her blue eyes into a knot of anger. “Which is stupid. I didn’t do anything.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s called consequences.” Something Annie had been living with ever since that night at Clem’s. Sleeping with two men and winding up pregnant was not a good mental place to be. While Annie was sure Casey belonged to Jeremiah, there always remained a seed of doubt. Nine months after Jeremiah left, nine months and a one-night stand later, Casey Melody was born. It was possible she belonged to Clem. But unlikely.
A mild tremor ran through Annie. She had slept exclusively with Jeremiah for six months. In all likelihood, Casey was his. She shook her mind free of old anxieties. Only technically was Clem a possible contender.
“Maybe you’ll think twice next time before you decide to lie to your mother,” Annie snapped. Lying only led to trouble, she added to herself.
Casey looked as if she could spit. “Whatever.” She gave an indignant shake to her long, straight, glossy black hair and locked arms over her chest in defiance. Kicking a sneaker to the dashboard, she stared out the passenger window. “It’s not like I did anything.”
Not yet, maybe. But at the rate Casey was going, trouble would find her. It would stop her in her tracks, smack her hard. “Sneaking out with your boyfriend is what I call something,” Annie replied.
“So. I told you—we didn’t do anything. What’s the big deal?”
“You’re grounded because you lied,” Annie informed her, hoping that what she claimed was true. For her daughter’s sake. Annie gathered Casey in her gaze and exhaled heavily. She had such pretty blue eyes, a natural fire to her spirit and she was smart. So smart. If only she applied herself. All I can do is pass on the lessons. What you do with them is up to you.
Annie had learned hers the hard way. If she could alleviate a little pain and regret for her daughter, she would do so.
Pulling up to the cement block house, walls painted gray with white trim, Annie parked and eased out of the car. “C’mon.”
Begrudgingly, her daughter followed. Heat rose from the arid mix of grass and dirt and clay, surprising Annie at how fast the temperature had soared. Gone was the misty nip she had awakened to, replaced by a scorching heat. While she preferred sunshine to rain, a few passing clouds would be nice. Especially since the air-conditioning had gone out in her car. If she was lucky, it was only a matter of Freon.
But Annie’s life wasn’t littered with luck.
Navigating the crooked line of stepping stones covered by weeds, passing a lone clump of purple hydrangea, she walked up to the front door and knocked. The bleached-out metal door exuded the stale scent of cigarette smoke. Boasting an oval glass etching in its center, it had been pretty in its heyday. Annie remembered when they installed it. Candi had been so proud, showing her friend how the gold lines glittered in the sun, the beveled glass sparkling as she opened and closed it. But like everything the Sw
eeney’s touched, they only touched it once. Weather and time and neglect took over from there.
Candi opened the door and greeted Annie with a warm hug. She invited her inside, where the remainder of Sweeneys were embroiled in a heated discussion.
“It don’t matter to me what he does. I ain’t interfering.”
“Now Buford, who said anything about interfering?” Mrs. Sweeney’s generous figure was wedged into a recliner, the mauve material faded and worn. Her silvery curls were un-brushed, her housedress a pink floral, and on her feet she wore blue terry cloth slippers. “I said go and talk to the boy. He can’t be hosting people at all hours over there, not when I can hear the racket from my front porch.”
“Clem,” Candi said when Annie looked to her for explanation.
Enough said, Annie thought. Uninterested in hearing anymore, she looked to her friend. She was here for a visit but preferred it didn’t include Candi’s family.
The stocky Mr. Sweeney paraded across the square room, his lower stomach protruding from beneath his white T-shirt. Like his wife, his salt and pepper hair could use some attention. “Ethel, I’m going to put my foot down.”
“Stomp it in the mud, for all I care,” she replied with a wave of her hand, a lighted cigarette hanging from between her fingers, the smoke snaking its way through the air toward Annie. “Just make sure you get the boy to quit or else.”
Mr. Sweeney thrust out his hefty barrel-shaped gut. “Or else what?”
Candi shook her head in frustration, highlighted blonde streaks forming distinct sections between her natural brown. “How about we take a walk?” she whispered to Annie.
“Good idea.” Annie turned to Casey and found her staring down the youngest member of the family. Sulking in the corner, the elder Sweeney’s grandson Jimmy seemed content with staring right back at Casey, his dark brooding looks partially covered by the long swath of artificially black bangs. Dressed in black T-shirt and black jeans, the boy worked hard to project his new Goth image.
Ladd Springs (Ladd Springs, Book #1) Page 19