Legend of The Lost: (Z & C Mysteries, #4)

by Zoey Kane

  “All that,” she said, putting the back of a hand to her forehead at the onset of another sudden dizzy spell.

  By the time she devoured her chili and laid into her crunchy, yet juicy, BLT, Claire was having a nice conversation with the cowboy, and feeling much better. “I was an editor for a magazine. Eye Witness,” she said.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard of it,” he replied, though she wasn’t sure if he was just saying so.

  “It’s very respectable. You know, no Photoshopping cottage cheese on celebrities’ thighs, or any of that.”

  “Darn. I s’pose that means no alien baby stories, either.”

  “No, no.” She realized she answered him a bit too seriously. Obviously, he was joking, so she softened her expression and gave a little laugh.

  She decided to turn the focus back on him. “What do you do around here?”

  “I’m your average ranch hand,” he said, leaning back in the booth’s seat, avoiding eye contact, as if he were thinking it over seriously.

  “You like it?” she asked.

  There was the briefest of pauses before he said, “Sure. I mean, the outdoors is my life.”

  “How’d you get this particular job in the middle of the Arizona desert? Are you from a small town around here?”

  “Yeah, but Mackey’s also my uncle’s best friend. He got me the job a year ago. Mackey really needed the extra help, and he knew he could count on me for not sleepin’ on the job.”

  “Ah…” Claire nodded, taking another bite of her sandwich.

  “Just curious,” Brooks said. “Where were you and your mom headed? You know, in that plane…?”

  “Oh, you’ll think we’re nuts,” she answered, putting down her food, and feeling blood rushing to her face in embarrassment.

  “Now you’ve got me real curious.” He leaned in closer.

  “A trip to Southern California. There’s a hotel that’s sort of a replica of Dracula’s castle.”

  “That your idea of a getaway?” He gave a wry smile.

  “It’s bizarre. I know. Hey, I’ve an idea—let’s change the subject.” She smiled wide.

  The one and only waitress, named Cindy, came over to clear the table. Brooks ordered two hot fudge sundaes. Conversation naturally turned to the topic of country versus city living. Claire confessed that although she now lived in a small town, she had no cowgirl experience.

  They laughed together and really had a good time until Brooks suddenly jerked up from his seat, looking down at his leather-banded watch. “Shoot. Almost forgot. I gotta go,” he said. “Ranch work.” He put his cowboy hat back on. “It’s a never-ending job, you know.”

  Claire replied as she set down her spoon, “Of course.”

  “But hey, I look forward to seeing more of you. Tonight’s a dance… out in the barn. I’ll see you there?”

  “Um, yeah! Sure.”

  He tipped his hat and left.

  When Zoey arrived at the booth, not much later, it popped the daydream bubble Claire was floating away in. She imagined triplets with boot-booties and handkerchief bibs. All Brooks’s offspring, of course. Thankfully, her mom couldn’t read her thoughts… even if it felt like she could.

  “Brooks had to go back to work,” Claire said, clearing her throat.

  Zoey slid into the booth and said, “A call came in that the plane crash started a wild fire. Daniel Walks-With-Secrets took Bill with him to go look at things. Are you feeling any better?”

  “Yes, the lunch picked me up. You better have something.”

  A cook came out, carrying a triangle that she hit with a little metal rod. Walking into the foyer, she clanged the thing a few times, calling out, “Lunch!”

  The diner filled with hungry guests as a couple cooks pushed out buffet carts on wheels to the center of the small restaurant. The scent of barbecued chicken and cornbread quickly wafted to the mother and daughter.

  Claire cocked an eyebrow and said, “Figures,” realizing she missed the best stuff by twenty minutes.

  “Smells good. I think I’ll go get some!” Zo said.

  People found their seats at a dozen tables. One with streaked blond hair paused with her husband at Zo and Claire’s table. She was wearing some kind of high-end cowgirl attire, down to the red cowboy boots with silver toe tips.

  The woman looked down her nose, not failing to notice Zo’s dirt-marred clothes from her parachute escapade. “New here?” she asked dryly.

  “We just landed about an hour ago.” Zo eyed Claire over the inside joke.

  “Well, neither of you is dressed appropriately?!”

  “Perhaps we’re just poor,” responded Zo, feeling a slow burn rising from within.

  Claire coughed, taking a quick drink of water and looking at her mother with widened eyes.

  “You look it! Except for your knock-off heels. I guess they’re supposed to be Gucci.”

  “Supposedly.” Zo smiled rather intensely.

  “Your heel needs some glue. And there’s something called showers. Perhaps you’ve heard of them.”

  “Marlene!” Her balding husband broke in. “Enough!” He didn’t seem friendly, although he must have had some sense of manners for speaking up.

  “Richard.” She looked at him with disapproval, but turned and walked away.

  “Claire…” Zo leaned over, and spoke close to her ear in low tones. “I do not want you hinting, in any sort of way, that we possess any wealth. In fact, I want to remain poor in everyone’s eyes. Bill knows we have some money, but has no idea how much.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Oh, do you mind snagging me a piece of chicken when you get yours?” Claire couldn’t resist the delicious aroma, even with a fully satisfied stomach.

  THREE

  Mackey checked Zo’s credit and found no outstanding problems, so he ran a tab for her. As owner of The Lost Miner’s Dude Ranch, there were no delays in taking care of the unexpected guests. Everything went forward on his say-so.

  As the Kanes went to freshen up as best they could in their economy room, a little, ol’ cleaning lady came out a door across the hall.

  “Oh, goodness… new people?” She looked delighted.

  “Hello,” said Zo, smiling brightly. “Yes, we’re going to be here for a while. Our plane went down in the desert. We’re okay, but we do need showers.”

  Claire chimed in, “Except our luggage was destroyed in the accident. So, it won’t be easy.”

  “Really! Well, I’m glad you two are okay. Goodness!” She had twinkling, light blue eyes that smiled at the corners while she talked. Fluffy, white hair framed her lined face. She appeared to be well into her eighties. “My name is Elena Thomas.” She giggled. “I’ve been working here for a few years.”

  “Hi, I am Zoey Kane and this is my daughter, Claire.”

  “So very nice to meet you both. There should be plenty of towels in your bathroom. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Okay, thank you,” Claire said.

  “See you later.” Elena walked away in an energetic waddle.

  Zoey and Claire’s room was small, and meagerly furnished, so they felt lucky to have a TV, despite the antenna made out of a wire hanger. Claire sighed with the shake of her head at the narrow cot beside the bed, knowing it was her sleeping place. At least the bathroom was well stocked with plenty of soaps and towels, although they’d have to share a rusty sink.

  They took off their shoes and got ready as best as they could, wiping the dirt stains from their clothes and washing their faces. As Claire smoothed her mother’s long hair into a loose braid, she said, “I suppose we should call home just to let Max know we had to make an unscheduled pit-stop.” Max was the kind, old foreman of their estate, Hillgate Manor.

  “Yes, someone back home should know what happened.”

  “How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” Claire asked.

  Zo replied, “We could call Kipperman and arrange another flight out right away, but I think I want t
o stay a bit longer.”

  “Even with a room like this?”

  “It’s no worse than camping.”

  “I thought you hated camping.” Claire tied off the braid with her mother’s sparkly hair band.

  Another knock came at the door and Zo went to answer it.

  “Hi,” Elena greeted her with a soft giggle, standing beside a cart of clothes. “I was going to try and round you up some things until you could get your own, but Kountry Kickin’ Fashions and Gas brought this armful of things to wear, as ordered by an anonymous donor.”

  The mother and daughter were speechless, eyeing each other in astonishment.

  “You can trade whatever doesn’t fit. Go ahead, take them.”

  “How generous!” Zo picked up a white peasant blouse, and admired the embroidered flowers adorning the neckline. Claire got busy unloading the rest of the cart, placing the folded clothing onto a bed.

  Elena mused, “You two have fallen into the middle of nowhere. Thank goodness for the gas station’s store. Otherwise, all I’d have to offer you is stuff from the lost and found, as neither of you are my size.”

  “Exactly how small a town is this?” Claire asked.

  “Let’s see… This isn’t so much of a town as a whistle stop. We’ve got no city police, and no utilities, either. We all have wells, propane, and lines out to the electric poles.”

  “Oookay.” Claire set down a couple pairs of slim, bootcut jeans.

  The duo didn’t have any other words except thank you, as they took the final donations off the cart.

  Elena pressed her wrinkled hands together and said, “Well, I’ll leave you alone to try these things on. Have a blessed day.” She trundled the empty cart down the hall.

  “Okay, we now have plenty to wear.” Zo was thinking out loud. “We better get busy.”

  Claire lifted up a couple of cutesy pairs of panties and some sports bras. “I don’t believe it. Look at this. They thought of everything.”

  “Wow. The only thing missing is shoes.” Zo kicked off her red high heels that had long since become uncomfortable.

  There was another knock at the door. Claire opened it to discover four pairs of boots, sizes 9 and 10, sitting there.

  “Good guess,” Zo said, snatching up the smaller ones. She loved the look of them: red dress boots, and dark brown, low-heeled boots, laced up the front.

  Claire picked up the other pairs and shut the door. She had dressy brown boots and shorter black boots. “Mine are a little large,” she said. “One thing’s for sure, these are made for comfort, right down to the rounded toes.” She was talking about the black ones.

  “They’re called roper boots, just like my brown ones.” Zo lifted them with a smile. “Good for getting dirty in.”

  *

  The Kanes visited The Rusted Buckle later that afternoon. Clattering dishes and soft murmurs suggested things were in full swing. Zo grabbed a ginger ale for herself and a root beer for Claire, plus two bags of potato chips and beef jerky. She spotted Bill, sitting alone at a small corner table, reading something. Zo decided they should join him.

  As they approached, Bill glanced up, folding his paper and shoving it into his shirt’s pocket.

  Claire asked, “How’s everything? You know, with the crash.”

  “Fire’s out.” His thin lips turned up in an awkward smile. “We found the remains of what we think was a purse.” He passed a blackened, charred thing across the table.

  “That’d be mine,” Zo said, deflated.

  Claire smirked at their misfortune. “At least it wasn’t raining underwear.”

  “Yeah, there’s that.” Zo’s attention returned to Bill, tapping her long nails on the table. “What have you got a map to?”

  “Ah, you saw that, huh?!” He patted his shirt’s pocket.

  “Sure; is it a secret?”

  “Okay, I know I can trust you two,” he said, having had other business experience with Zoey. “Don’t breathe a hint to any other living person, though.”

  Zo nodded and so did Claire.

  Bill lowered his voice, speaking with tempered excitement. “It’s a map to The Lost Dutchman’s Mine.”

  “Do you realize how many so-called maps exist to that mine…?” Claire pointed out. “Or that people have died and gone missing trying to find it? In reality, it’s probably just folklore. Where did you get it anyway?”

  Bill was undaunted. “That’s the thing. When the plane crashed, it took out an old miner’s cabin that was in ruins. As I was searching around to see what I could salvage, I saw a tin can pushed up in heaps of dirt from the force of the crash. I’m interested in collectibles, so I inspected it. There was this paper inside. It’s really in good shape, actually. I think it must be the real deal.”

  The mention of the tin can piqued Zo’s interest. She still had a weakness for rare finds, especially when contained within something thought of as junk. She couldn’t help it. Her heart actually pounded at the thought.

  “Zo, how about investing five hundred dollars? I’ll also put in five hundred dollars for a stake, and knock around trying to see if this leads to something really big.” His eyes were wide as he leaned in closer. Zo could see her reflection in his pupils. “I could use a new plane!”

  Claire’s eyebrows perked up as she stared at her mom. Normally, she’d be giving some sort of advice about investments, but she decided to bite her tongue now, feeling simply curious.

  Zo said, “All right, let me have a look-see at your map.”

  Bill paused. “It looks legit, ladies. Remember that it’s our secret.”

  “Deal,” Zo said.

  “Deal,” Claire agreed, humoring them.

  He discreetly passed the map across the table, his eyes shifting around with paranoia. Zo brought it down to her lap and unfolded it. Claire leaned in to get a good look. The paper was yellow and worn—definitely old. There was a layout of the Superstition Mountains and a compass rose, as expected, along with some cursive scribbling, marking a flat-topped structure as Devil’s Tooth. A path was drawn into the side of one mountain in particular, across the desert, and seemingly, not so far away.

  “Does anyone think that I’ve got a checkbook I can write on in this purse?” Zo asked.

  Bill’s face lit up.

  Zo forced open the purse, pieces of it cracking off, and pulled out a rectangle of melted blue plastic. “Hmm, well that’s no good anymore.” She rummaged around and pulled out a couple blackened quarters and a dime.

  Claire leaned into her hand, amused.

  Bill’s expression fell.

  Zo set her purse down and was about to give up when her eyes locked onto Claire’s gold watch. “Ooh, honey, give me your watch.” She put out an expectant hand.

  “Mother.” Claire glared at her, then tilted her head at the simple, yet elegant, timepiece with small diamonds at each quarter-hour. “No.”

  “C’mon, hand it overrr.” Zo’s hand was still out, her fingers motioning to hurry it up already.

  “No. It’s my watch. I like it. I want to keep it.”

  Zo’s eyebrows reached for the ceiling. “We can get you another one.”

  “But I got this on the cruise. In Kinikiwiki. I’m pretty attached to it.”

  Zo’s eyes darted back to Bill’s hopeful expression. “Claire, honey…” she said, obviously restraining her frustration by batting her long lashes.

  “Mom.” Claire blinked.

  “Oh, just give me the stinking watch!” Zo burst out.

  Claire shook her head. If gold coins could dance, they’d be doing the conga in her mother’s eager eyes. She grabbed Zo’s shoulders and said through clenched teeth, “Get a hold of yourself, Smeagol.”

  Zo sat up straight and smoothed her hair, as if emerging from a trance. “I’m okay. I’m okay.” She looked at Bill. “What was I thinking? I can’t pawn off my daughter’s watch, even if you might hit the mother lode.” Desperation entered her voice again, however, as she said, “even if
you could buy a brand new plane.”

  “Oh, all right…” Claire unclasped the watch and dangled it out for Bill.

  Zo slapped her daughter’s hand down. “No. I will not make you give away your favorite watch. Like you said, you got it on the cruise. It’s your only memento, so I won’t push you even if a limping orphan in raggedy clothing with missing teeth came begging you for it.”

  Claire reluctantly clasped it back onto her wrist. “I’m not sure that makes me feel any better…”

  “I’m just teasing,” Zo said. “There has to be another way to get Bill money.”

  Bill nodded at the turn of the conversation. “Yes, yes. Some other way.”

  Claire thought a moment, then said, “I wonder if that Kountry Fashions gas store has a Western Union.”

  A young waitress in a red-checkered apron approached, having overheard the comment. “They do have one there. I’ve used their service before.”

  “Thank you so much!” Zo said.

  “That settles things, then,” Claire said. “I’ll call Kipperman to wire us over some money. I don’t like having Mackey accumulate a tab for us.” Kipperman was their confidante from back home in Riverside, a wealthy antiques dealer.

  The waitress asked, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” said Zo. “Would you get me the pamphlet of maps that were recovered from unfortunate seekers of The Lost Dutchman’s Mine? I have a running tab with Mackey in the meantime, and I won’t forget you.”

  “Sure thing.” The young lady in blond curls hurried off to obey her request.

  Zo sat with the burned-up purse on her lap when Marlene’s familiar, grating voice suddenly intruded. “I see the donated clothes have reached you two. Really, you should throw that purse away. It needs condemning.”

  “Hello,” Claire said sweetly to the woman’s quiet, frowning husband. He cleared his throat and looked down at his hands in his pockets. “Did you donate our clothing, dear Richard?”