Clanton's Woman

by Patricia Knoll

  Jack nodded in agreement and reached inside. He sifted through settled adobe dust to locate the edge of the box. They quickly discovered that it was wedged too tightly to remove, so Mallory fetched a putty knife from his tool belt.

  After much prying and scraping away of the dried brick, one edge of the box came up. Jack set it on the top of the exposed wall and ran his hands around the lid. When he tilted the box up to examine it, they heard a sliding sound inside.

  “There’s something in it.” Mallory’s voice rose with excitement.

  “I know.” He ran his fingers over the top. “This looks like an old ammunition box.”

  “Ammunition? You mean like bullets?”

  “Yes, although the handle’s missing from this one.”

  “Do you think it’s got bullets inside?”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her. “Who would bury ammunition inside a wall?”

  “Who would bury anything inside a wall?”

  “The man who built this house.”

  “Your grandfather? Why would he have done that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Anything about it in your family folklore?”

  “If there had been, it would have been found long before now.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  Jack tugged at the edge of the box, but it wouldn’t budge and his hands went still, resting on the top. “It sure looks old enough to have been here since the 1920s.” Stretching upward, he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a pocketknife. He flipped out a blade and ran it under the edge of the lid.

  Flakes of rust sifted down, but he patiently worked at the rim while Mallory’s tension mounted. She didn’t know why she found this so exciting except that she’d always loved old things with history, especially family history, attached to them.

  After several minutes’ work, Jack laid his knife aside and grasped the edges of the lid. Opening it without a handle to hold made it more difficult, but by twisting and tugging, the lid finally screeched upward.

  Mallory’s breath caught as the lid bent backward, revealing the dark interior. Jack reached in and pulled out an oilskin pouch.

  “What in the world?” he murmured. Turning, he sat with his back against the wall and laid the pouch on his thigh.

  “It’s obviously something your grandfather wanted protected, but hidden,” Mallory observed.

  “No doubt.” They looked at each other tor several long seconds in shared anticipation, then Jack began folding the oiled cloth outward. The edges crumbled at his touch, but the inner folds were surprisingly supple.

  Once the gray oilskin was open, they could see that it contained a folded paper with lines and symbols on it.

  Heads together, Jack and Mallory puzzled over it until they realized that they were holding it sideways. Turned the right way around, it revealed itself to be a map of the Chiricahua Mountains. Military markings in the lower corner told them it was an old U.S. Army map made by surveying parties at the end of the last century.

  “Jack,” Mallory said, breathless with excitement, “this is quite a find, but why do you think he kept it in the window seat?”

  “I don’t know. What possible use could it be to him there?”

  They studied it in silence for several more seconds until Jack gave a low grunt of surprise. His fingers tightened on the old parchment until his knuckles turned white.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “It’s a map for finding Lying Jude’s treasure.”

  “You’re kidding!” Mallory made a grab for the map, but Jack held it away, still studying it.

  His gaze, followed by his callused fingertip, ran swiftly over the lines and symbols as he noted the directions and cryptic messages written in smudged gray pencil.

  “How did it get here?”

  Jack hesitated so long that her eyes snapped up to meet his. “Mallory, I didn’t tell you before, but George Early, the lawman who tracked Lying Jude Bluestone…”

  “Yes?”

  “He was my great-grandfather. He lived in this house with my grandfather, Jack, until his death.”

  Mallory stared at him for several seconds before outrage kicked in. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I wanted to find out how much you knew, what proof, if any, you had that George hadn’t found that bank robbery money and kept it. I was stunned to find out that you had his journal.”

  Sitting back on her heels, Mallory shook her head in exasperation. “So you filled me full of wine last night until I told you everything I knew.”

  His face was as hard as his voice. “You were very willing to talk.”

  “You’re a low-down, dirty rat for tricking me like that.”

  “I had a good reason.”

  “Oh, sure.” She made another grab for the map. “Let me see it,” she insisted.

  Jack’s lips tightened in irritation, but he spread the yellowed document out so they both could see it.

  It took several seconds for Mallory to calm down enough to focus on it. She felt hurt and betrayed, used the way Charles had always used her. She wouldn’t react the way she had before, though. She would be calm and rational.

  She examined the map, and after a few moments, she forgot her irritation with Jack because she was so enthralled by this discovery. Finally, she said with awe, “Lying Jude’s treasure. I can’t believe it. How…how do we tell exactly what all these mean?” she asked, pointing to the words.

  “Some of them are topographic map symbols. You’ve probably seen some of them before. These lines indicate elevation. This V shows where a stream runs downhill.”

  Excitedly, she tapped a mark on the map. “Look. What about this X? That must mean this is the spot to dig for the treasure.”

  Jack gave her an amused look out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry to disappoint you, Mallory, but that just means it’s a bench mark, or different elevation in the mountain range.”

  She didn’t even try to disguise her disappointment. Her shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

  “You really didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  They examined the parchment together for a few more minutes. Her disappointment faded as her mind eagerly clicked over the possibilities this map represented. She couldn’t believe this magnificent stroke of luck. She might be within days of finding the treasure if she could only decipher these strange symbols.

  Jack didn’t seem to be having much better luck than she was. He was frowning over the map, his thick brows drawn together in concentration. Temporarily distracted from the document, she studied the way his black hair fell over his forehead. Absorbed in examining the map, he didn’t seem to notice it.

  She was still angry with him, but to her dismay, Mallory found herself curling her fingers into her palm to keep from reaching up and tucking the strands into place beneath his hatband. Oh, Lord, this had to stop. Somehow she had to get this welter of emotions under control. Her absorption with him was turning into a full-time occupation.

  His arm moved as he adjusted the map to a new angle and Mallory felt his warmth seep through her jacket and into her own skin. She marveled that such a simple act could have such a profound effect on her, making her recall the way he’d kissed her, the way his voice had deepened when he asked her to come home with him.

  She felt shaken to her soul to realize that now, ten hours later, she wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision.

  Jack looked up suddenly. “I’m not sure about…What?”

  Mallory felt heat rising in her face because she’d been caught staring at him. “Nuh…nothing.” Quickly, she focused on the map and tried to recall what in heaven’s name they’d been looking for. “Oh, um, none of this is very clear, is it?”

  Heroically, she ignored the knowing grin on Jack’s lips when he answered, “No, it’s not.”

  “If X doesn’t mark the spot to dig, what’s the good of this map? How can we tell where Lying
Jude’s treasure is if it’s not clearly marked?” She was quite pleased with the evenness of her voice.

  She tugged on the document, and Jack finally surrendered it to her, sitting back to watch as she eagerly scanned it for some key to deciphering it. He reached over and tapped the penciled-in message. “We study this.”

  Mallory held it close and squinted. “I can’t even read it.”

  “It would help if we had a magnifying glass,” he admitted.

  “I’ve got one at the shop.” She started to her feet. “Let’s go over there and look at it—”

  “Wait. There are some things we can read.” His finger tapped the message as he leaned closer. “These look like distances. See. ‘Ten paces west, seventeen east.’”

  “But from what point?”

  “I can’t tell that, either. We may need an expert to help us out.”

  “Do you know one?”

  “Yes, Dan Wilkers. He’s studied these things for years. Remember that he’s a writer and researcher of Western lore with a special interest in mysteries and disappearances. He has a bad back that prevents him from going out hunting for them himself.”

  “Do you think he’ll help us read it?”

  “Sure. He’s my friend and he knows that George Early was my great-grandfather.”

  “Well, then he knows more than I did, doesn’t he?” she asked. “Let’s see him today.”

  Jack gave her a quelling look as he took the map and replaced it in its oilskin pouch, then he stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Have you ever seen a treasure map before?”

  “Of course.” Her fingers ran over the little pouch, trying to imagine the man who had put it inside the window seat. Why had it been so carefully hidden? Were the stories about Jack’s great-grandfather true? Had he found Jude and kept the treasure for himself, possibly burying it for later retrieval? If so, why hadn’t he ever gone back for it? She cast Jack a sidelong glance, wondering how much of this speculation she could tell him.

  “What about one for this treasure?”

  She looked up and frowned. It took a moment for her brown eyes to clear as she recalled what they’d been talking about. “Well, no, except for the few cryptic notes in George Early’s journal.”

  “I think it’s time I took a look at that journal.” He nodded at the pouch in her hand. “It might make sense with what we have there.”

  Mallory hesitated. There was no reason why he couldn’t, except that she was reluctant to surrender ownership of it. “I suppose so.”

  “It involves my family,” he pointed out in a dry tone, obviously stung by her reluctance.

  “So I hear. Why do you think he hid it in the window seat?”

  “Safekeeping, I suppose. As I said, he lived here with my grandmother and grandfather. In fact, he was still alive when my mother was a little girl. He never lived down the rumors that he’d stolen the money.”

  Interested, and sympathetic in spite of herself, Mallory asked, “What did people think he’d done with it? I mean, if he’d found it, wouldn’t he have left town with it?”

  “The story was that he’d gambled it away. Remember, he didn’t come out of the mountains for a while. People said he had taken a detour by way of a high-stakes poker game and lost it all, then came home through the Chiricahuas and claimed never to have found it at all.”

  Mallory didn’t want to care. Finding this treasure was as important to her as it was to him, but it involved a member of his family. She remembered what he’d said about his heritage. In the darkest days of his family’s poverty, they’d had their heritage to help them hold on to their pride. The accusations against George Early had long been a sore point with his family, one he wanted to resolve.

  “I want to use this map to clear his name,” Jack said in a slow, even voice. “Today, the area looks much different than it did then, so I’ll study it, then take it up to the Chiricahuas and see if I can pinpoint the area.”

  Mallory twisted around so she could look him right in the eye. “What do you mean ‘I’?”

  His eyes widened. “I thought you said you had a ‘feeling’ about where to look. You were going to hire a guide, remember? Are you saying you’d want to go with me?”

  “Absolutely,” she answered in a testy voice. “I’ve wanted to look for this for years, and I’ve got the journal.”

  “I’ve got the map.” He plucked the pouch from her hands.

  “Hey, wait a minute.” Mallory tried to snatch it back, but he held it away from her.

  Angrily, she lifted herself up and made a grab for it, but ended up sprawled across him. His arm shot out to encircle her waist and keep her in place. Mallory threw her head back and found that his green eyes were laughing at her. She tried to pull back, but his arm was like an iron band around her.

  “It looks like we’re at an impasse,” he said, his tone full of humor at her expense.

  “It looks like you’re a jerk,” she groused. “You don’t know what it means to me to find that—”

  “You don’t know what it means to me,” he shot back. “And worse, you’re not even willing to think about it because you’re too intent on what you want.”

  That stung because she’d just been having such sympathetic thoughts about him and poor old George Early.

  She tried to move again, but he said, “If you don’t quit wiggling around like that, I won’t answer for the consequences.”

  She went still, but her lips pulled into a furious pout.

  “That’s better,” he said.

  “For you, maybe.”

  His grin flickered and he eased her away from him at last. “I suggest we form a partnership.”

  “What kind?” He allowed an inch of space between them and she took two, but his hand was very firmly planted across the small of her back, just under the hem of her jacket. The room was cold, the floor was cold, the wall beneath the window seat was cold, but that hand was warm and she felt it more than all the cold combined. She gave him a disturbed frown, cleared her throat, and said again, “What kind of partnership?”

  “Fifty-fifty. We go look for the treasure together and anything we find we split right down the middle.”

  She propped her forearm across his chest, which, in spite of his down vest, was something like trying to get comfortable on a bed of iron, and tilted her head back. Her long hair spilled down over his hand. His gaze shifted from her face as he reached over with his other hand and lifted the loose strands from the dust-covered floor. He looped it behind her ear and held it, held her, in place with his palm cupping the side of her head. He was much stronger than she was. If he exerted the least bit of pressure, he could bring her down to meet his lips.

  Mallory swallowed hard and tried to recall exactly why she had pushed him away the night before. It was hard to do so when she was on a direct eye level with his sculpted mouth and freshly shaven jaw, not to mention receiving a heady dose of his subtle, but potent after-shave. The combination was enough to make her insides quiver like gelatin.

  Lord, how could a man look this good, smell this good, be this alert and challenging so early in the morning?

  Because her heart was tap-tapping madly, she tried to cover it by giving him an ironic look. “Partnership sounds good, Clanton, but I’ve known you long enough to figure out that there’s got to be a loophole somewhere.”

  “Ah, as I’ve said, you’re a hard lady, Miss Earp. Maybe you just want to come along because you think I’ll make a lucky find.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I can’t promise you luck, and you’re not interested in anything else I might offer.” He let go of her suddenly and she nearly tumbled over backward.

  Righting herself, she came up on her knees and stared at him. She felt embarrassed and anxious when she recalled the previous night. He had hit on so many of her fears, rattled the foundation of so many of her defenses, she was still shaken.

  Standing, he reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet. “Take it or leave it,�
� he said briskly as he swept her upward. “This is my only offer.”

  She knew it was a mistake to go with him, but deep in her heart she knew she couldn’t resist the challenge. “If I come along, I want to be fully involved in the hunt.”

  He stared at her for a few seconds, his gaze dropping to her lips, skimming over her face, which was growing warm from his close regard, and coming back to meet her eyes. His voice was low and full of promise when he said, “Don’t worry, you will be—as long as you remember that I’m the one in charge of it.”

  Mallory swallowed hard and licked her lips nervously. Suddenly she felt like a small animal that had built its own trap and blithely walked inside, inviting the hunter to shut the door. She cleared her throat and nodded decisively. “All right. I’ll remember. Can we go talk to Dan right now?”

  “Yes, and we’ll stop at your place on the way and pick up the journal and the magnifying glass. Think Sammi can handle things at the shop by herself for a while? Because if not, I can get T.C. to drop by and—”

  “She can handle it,” Mallory said. “Let’s go.”

  “You don’t mind leaving today’s work on your house unfinished?”

  “You’re a man of your word, Jack. I trust you to get back to it right after we talk to Dan.”

  His grin was unabashedly triumphant. “See? You can let go and quit trying to control everything. I think there’s hope for you yet.”

  Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Mallory headed for the door at a quick pace while he strolled along behind her.

  * * *

  “This is going to be one for the record books,” Dan observed as he sat back in his desk chair and viewed the two people sitting opposite him. “An Earp and a Clanton working together.”

  “Don’t let it get out,” Jack said with a glance at Mallory. “It might ruin my reputation.”

  Mallory smirked at him. “It can’t get much worse than it already is.”

  Dan chuckled and sat forward to once again examine the map before him. The three of them had sat for an hour in his book-lined office with it spread out before them. They had compared locations and distances that were noted on the map with what was written in George Early’s journal. They’d also compared it with a modern topographic map, which had so many squiggly lines on it, that to Mallory’s mind it looked like a plateful of Chinese noodles. How were they ever going to find their way over ground that looked impossibly rough even on paper?