The next logical companion for a jaunt into the desert was Oliver. But if they shared the journey back, it wouldn’t be as friends. Something broke apart inside him. Adam knew that he was losing the best part of his life. If he could never be friends with Oliver or Julia again, what would the future hold? He didn’t like the prospect. They’d been a huge part of his life for the last ten years. His own parents were dead. His sisters were married and living far away. The only relative he had left in Ardell was Uncle Royce. The Newmans had filled in for him, as close to a family as he’d had for a long time.
Would he make new friends? Find a new love? He’d never forgotten Julia—never given up on his hope that she’d come back to him. The memories of his time with her—when he knew she loved him—had haunted him, waking and sleeping.
And Ollie. Could he ever be as close to another man? He sincerely doubted it. He and Oliver had shared their deepest thoughts. Why, Oliver even knew that Adam loved his sister with a till-death-do-us-part kind of love. No one else on earth was privy to his feelings about Julia. His chaotic, mixed-up feelings.
She’d gone away hurt when he took the job as sheriff’s deputy, and she’d bruised him pretty badly before she left. Now she’d returned angry and cold. What was the sense of hoping? She would never love him that way again.
And yet…What if yesterday had been different? What if the stagecoach hadn’t been robbed? What if he and Ollie had been there to greet her with smiles when she got out of the stage? She might have felt differently about him then. And he was pretty sure she wouldn’t have thrown him out of her house.
He could give up right now and ride back to Ardell. Lay his heart at Julia’s feet. Tell her he loved her more than ever and never wanted to be parted from her again.
But that would mean letting the killer get away. And for the rest of their lives, his doubts would hang between them. Oliver had run away after the robbery. He couldn’t interpret that as the action of an innocent man. Had Julia known her brother planned to rob the stage? Had they laid plans together through letters? If so, Julia would have burned those letters. She was too smart to leave incriminating evidence lying around.
Unlike her brother.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the item he’d found near the robbery site. A small thing, and yet it added weight to his suspicions. With a sigh, Adam returned it to his pocket and urged Socks onward. Where did he think he’d find Oliver?
The tracks were lost now. Whenever he found hoofprints, he couldn’t tell if they were the right ones. Indians out here traveled the desert and went back and forth to the trading post all the time. Oliver had old friends among the Diné. Was he crossing their land to throw off pursuit? Or had he gone to them for refuge?
Adam rode up a ridge higher than the surrounding terrain and surveyed the wild landscape. In this rocky wilderness, there were a million places to hide. He was in the middle of the loneliest country he’d ever seen, and he didn’t like it. Though he hadn’t met a soul all afternoon, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was watched.
Socks snuffled.
“All right, fella, I hear you. You’re tired, too.” Adam guided the horse down to lower ground. He emptied a canteen of water into his hat and let Socks slurp it up. He’d hoped to find a creek or a watering hole, but in this dry country, it seemed you had to know where to look.
He gave Socks a handful of feed. He wouldn’t dare turn his horse loose, or even hobble or stake him out. Losing his mount in this desert would be a death sentence. He tied his lariat to Socks’s halter and knotted the other end around his belt. He doubted he’d get much sleep, but he’d know if anyone cut the rope.
Darkness had fallen while he made his preparations for the night. He lay down on his bedroll. In the morning, he would scour this land for a sign of the robber.
Socks tugged at the rope for a while, and Adam tossed and turned, disturbed by thoughts of Oliver’s actions and Julia’s lovely face. At last he fell asleep, but was jolted awake by a sharp pain.
Chapter 8
Adam jerked upright, scrambling to draw his pistol. At the same time, Socks whinnied and pulled on the rope at his waist, and another sharp kick landed on Adam’s side. He froze when he realized several dark forms towered over him in the moonlight.
“Who are you?”
Adam swallowed hard, but his heart was pumping fast. “Adam Scott.”
“Why are you on our land?”
He took a deep breath and tried to exhale slowly. The Diné had found him.
“I mean no harm. I’m the sheriff at the town of Ardell. It’s up in the mountains southwest of here. We had a murder two days ago, and I’m tracking the killer.”
After a moment’s silence, the one doing the talking said, “You got a badge?”
His tone was so ingenuous, Adam almost laughed. This man was obviously comfortable with the English language and in asserting his authority.
“Yes.” Adam opened his jacket slowly. The burnished star picked up a ray of moonlight. The Navajo men grunted. Slowly, Adam threw his blanket off his legs, rolled to his knees, then stood. “I assure you, I have no intention of harming your people. I followed the man I suspect of killing the stagecoach messenger near Ardell to this area. I only want to bring him to justice.”
Socks whinnied and pulled against the rope. From a short distance away, more horses answered. One of the Diné men stroked Socks’s neck, but Adam said nothing. He was sweating all over, even though the night had turned sharply cold.
The leader looked around at the others. “Sounds like a reasonable man.”
“Believe me, I only want to find this killer and take him off your territory. I don’t think you want a thief and a murderer hiding on your land.”
The Navajo leader was older than Adam, perhaps forty-five or older. A handsome man, he held Adam’s gaze for a long moment, and the others waited in silence.
“All right,” he said at last. “Three days should be enough. If you don’t find him by then, you must leave.”
Adam nodded. “Fair enough. I give you my word.”
They melted away into the darkness. One minute they were there, all around him—five or six men, quiet but imposing in their presence. The next they were gone.
Socks whinnied and paced back and forth at the end of the rope. Muffled hoofbeats and a faint neigh reached Adam’s ears.
“It’s all right, fella. They’re gone.” He pulled the rope in and patted the horse’s face and neck.
But Socks wouldn’t settle down. Adam knew he wouldn’t get any sleep with the horse tugging intermittently on the rope. He also knew the Diné wouldn’t steal his horse or Socks would already be gone. He rummaged in the saddlebags for the hobbles. A few minutes later he was able to lie down with his blanket wrapped around him, but sleep was still far away. How different would this encounter with the Diné have been if Oliver was with him? He wished he could have known this land—and these people—the way the Newmans did.
Socks snuffled about for anything edible, and Adam slumped with his head against his saddle. He’d known the lawman’s life would be lonely, but he hadn’t expected to be cut off irrevocably from the people he cared for most.
Julia looked all about the next morning, but saw nothing that moved, other than a lizard basking in the early sunlight outside her door. She took her time preparing some corn mush and coffee. She wouldn’t go directly to the cave. Why draw attention to it? She’d wait and go there late in the day.
After much thought, she decided to go to the trading post. The new Indian agent didn’t know her. There had been several changes in the position since her father held it. Still, she wouldn’t risk talking to the current trader.
Instead of going in, she ground tied the dun over a ridge, just a few hundred yards from the trading post. From her position, she could see anyone approaching the post from the distant Diné village she’d visited as a child. But anyone coming along the trail from the white man’s part of Arizona wouldn
’t see her. She climbed up the ridge and lay down on her stomach. She could just see the building. With her hat low over her eyes, she waited.
As the sun rose higher, several Diné people went in to trade. Julia thought she recognized a couple of them. She felt safe now and sat up, but she kept her place off the trail, quietly aloof. She had no doubt they saw her, but none approached her. About an hour after she’d begun her watch, an unmistakable figure rode along the trail on a brown-and-white spotted mustang.
Julia smiled as she stood and walked toward the trail, holding up a hand.
He stopped the horse and looked her over closely then smiled.
“Can you be little Julie?”
“Yes, Niyol,” she said. “It’s me.”
“So. You are all grown up.” He seemed inordinately pleased about that.
She chuckled. “Yes. And you’re not any younger yourself.” When she’d lived here, she and Oliver often played with Niyol’s half-grown children. Oliver had been quite close to Niyol’s oldest son, Kai.
“I heard that your father was killed not too long after you left here,” he said.
“It’s true. Five years ago now.”
“I was saddened by this news.”
“Thank you,” Julia said.
“And your mother?”
“She’s gone, too, just a month ago. She was ill.”
Niyol nodded. “Poor Julie. And Oliver, your brother?”
She smiled then. “He’s alive. In fact, I believe he is not far from here now. I came here seeking him. Has he contacted you and your people?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
“I’m sure you would know if he had. He is riding a paint horse, not shod.”
Niyol eyed her keenly. “Is your brother in trouble?”
Julia found it hard to meet his direct gaze. “I’m afraid he is. He’s been accused of robbing the stagecoach and killing one of the men on it. But that’s not true, and now he may be hiding. I haven’t been able to talk to him since it happened, but I think he fears for his life.”
“I am sorry—for Oliver and for you.”
“Thank you.” She stepped closer to the mustang and looked up into Niyol’s sympathetic eyes. “Please don’t let the trader know I’m here. If anyone else comes looking for Oliver and hears that I am about, they would guess that my brother was near.”
“I will not speak of it.”
She nodded. “Thank you, friend.”
Niyol looked over his shoulder, toward the vast desert. “A lawman camped last night on Diné land.”
She caught her breath, though she’d suspected as much. “I’m afraid he’s looking for Oliver.”
“If we had known about your brother’s trouble, we would have run him off.” He watched her for a moment then said, “What do you want us to do, Julie? We will help you.”
“I want only peace. You see, I know the lawman. He is Oliver’s close friend. But now he thinks Oliver has done this thing, and he is convinced it is his duty to find Oliver and take him back to be tried.”
“Do you think your brother can stay hidden? He was very skillful when he was younger.”
Julia nodded. “I do. This man who is chasing him is a good tracker, but Oliver is better at hiding his tracks. I think he can avoid Adam Scott.”
“Scott. He is the man. We spoke to him last night. We gave him three days to complete his business here.” Niyol smiled grimly. “He was a little bit afraid of us, I think. But that is what we wanted.”
Julia smiled, too, though she felt a tiny bit sorry for Adam. “I’m sure he was, especially if he didn’t see you coming. I’m going to meet Oliver tonight, I hope, at the cave of the rock writing. Niyol, if I need your help…”
“You let us know. We will help you, Julie Newman. Your family are friends of the Diné.”
Tears sprang into her eyes. “Thank you.”
“Come to the village any time.”
She nodded. Other people came along the trail on horses or walking. Niyol joined two other men riding toward the trading post. They looked curiously at Julia. She waved and turned to go and collect the dun.
As she mounted and rode toward the family’s cabin, she wondered if she had been wise to tell Niyol. He wouldn’t tell the trader, but a lot of Navajo people had seen her. No, she decided. For her father’s sake—a true friend of the Diné—they would close ranks to protect her as they would one of their own.
Chapter 9
Adam rode in the scorching sun all day, searching for tracks. Whenever he came across the hoofprints of one horse traveling alone, he followed them. Most of the tracks led onto trails where they mingled with those of other horses. Once he came upon a cluster of hogans with gardens and pastures around them. He turned Socks around and slipped away quickly.
Early in the afternoon he picked up a lone horse’s sign leading northeast. Would that be Oliver’s course? Across the high desert and out of Arizona, into Utah or Colorado? Maybe he was headed for Denver after all, or some other town where he could get a train. Adam followed the trail for nearly an hour and came to an isolated hogan. He rode Socks off the trail and hid him in a ravine not far away then sneaked back to a place where he could watch the dwelling undetected.
For a long time he sat watching the hogan. He ate some jerky and took what shade he could from a clump of rabbitbrush. Finally a woman and two children came out of the house and went into one of the nearby fields. Adam watched them as they moved among a small flock of sheep and drove the flock farther away. Oliver’s horse must not have made the tracks he’d followed. This family seemed to be going about its normal routine.
Adam hesitated then went back and got his horse. He rode Socks out to the edge of the field and called out. The woman looked back at him, startled. She spoke to the children, and they kept walking behind the sheep. The woman came back a few steps, closer to Adam, and looked at him expectantly.
“I’m Sheriff Adam Scott. I have permission from the elders to be here.”
Her impassive face told him nothing.
“Do you speak English?”
She nodded, one quick jerk of her chin.
“I’m looking for a white man. He is wanted by the law, and he might be dangerous to your people. Have you seen a white man in this area?”
“You,” she said.
Adam smiled. “No, I mean another white man. He killed a man near Ardell and robbed a stagecoach.”
She shook her head.
“All right. Uh…May I water my horse here?”
She pointed.
“Thank you.” Adam rode in the direction she’d indicated and soon found a well-beaten path to a spring. The watering place was rimmed with stones, and a wooden bucket rested on the ground nearby. He dismounted and carried water to Socks in the bucket. He was careful not to let the horse get too near the spring or to disturb the stones.
He headed back toward Canyon Diablo, not knowing what else he could do. After a while, he noticed some vegetation in the distance, greener than what he’d been seeing. He rode closer and decided it was treetops. He urged Socks toward the greenery, hoping he’d find another water source. He wasn’t desperate, but a fugitive would head for water. It might be a good place to find a trace of Oliver.
Several piñons grew along a ravine, and in the bottom were a few stunted cottonwoods. Adam didn’t see any surface water, but he’d wager it flowed here in the spring. He dismounted and turned Socks loose to forage on the sparse grass while he rested.
Lord, help me out here, please. Am I foolish to stay out here looking for him? I just don’t know what to do now.
After a half hour’s rest in the shade, he mounted again and rode back toward the trading post. He wasn’t sure he could reach it today, but he’d try. He ought to hit one of the Navajo trails soon, and if it was headed westward, he’d follow it.
As he came over a rise, he saw a rider in the distance, the first human he’d seen since the woman at the hogan. He pulled Socks around and below th
e skyline of the rise, to where he could barely see over it. He sat still, watching.
The rider wasn’t headed toward him, but in a more northerly direction. The horse wasn’t Oliver’s flashy pinto, but a rather nondescript dun. After several minutes, he was sure it was Julia. She rode the same horse she’d had from Sam Dennis’s stable yesterday. No mistaking her for an Indian, even at this distance. She wore the tan skirt she used to wear all the time when she rode—divided into wide, billowy trouser legs—and a light blue shirt with a vest over it. Her wide-brimmed hat covered her light brown hair, but he didn’t need to see it to recognize her form and the way she sat so easy in the saddle.
She seemed to know where she was going—no hesitation, no casting about for the trail or the proper direction. Adam eased Socks to the top of the ridge. She never looked back. When she was nearly out of sight in the distance, he set out to intercept her trail. He wouldn’t join her. Instead, he would follow—straight to her brother.
The area around the cave was exactly as Julia remembered it. She rode the dun into a rocky depression a few hundred yards away so that no telltale hoofprints would lead to the opening. When she’d dismounted, she removed her boots and swapped them for the tall, pliant moccasins she’d left at home when she went away to teach. The boots went into her saddlebags. She hobbled the dun, untied her bedroll, and walked slowly up out of the dip in the landscape.
After pausing and looking all around, she made her way by an indirect route to the opening in the rocks. From a distance, the cave’s mouth couldn’t be seen, but when she rounded an outcropping of rock and drew closer, it appeared. As always, it seemed to be only a slight overhang in the side of the rock face. Only from right outside the entrance could one tell that it extended back several yards. She drew in a deep breath as the trickle of memories increased to a roaring river.
As a precaution, she picked up a small stone and tossed it inside the cave. Their Diné friends had taught them to give any creatures inside a warning before they entered. All was still. She looked behind her again. An undulation in the low greasewood made her hold her breath and stare for half a minute, but it seemed to be just the wind waving the sparse bushes. She exhaled.
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