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

by Zoey Kane

Taking some popcorn for herself, Zo asked him, “What do you think about Captain Daniel?”

  The mule brayed, sounding like the screech of brakes being slammed on.

  “Okay, you would know better than I. I kinda thought there was something odd about him too. I’m glad you agree. More popcorn?”

  Brooks came trotting over with Claire. “There he is,” he said. “I forgot to tell you that Roy is an escape artist. He’s always getting out, and too smart for his own good. He knows how to pick a lock and open a gate. He also unhitches the other horses. C’mon Roy.”

  The mule got up reluctantly.

  “I’ll be back soon, Claire,” Brooks said as he left with Roy.

  Zo heard the low drumbeats again. They were getting louder. “Claire, do you hear that?”

  “Yes.” Claire’s eyes darted around as she took an empty seat.

  “Good! I thought I was beginning to have hallucinations.”

  A Native American drummer appeared amidst the center of the guests who were dressed in their cowboy and cowgirl get-ups. He tapped an old-fashioned, leather drum, wearing a loincloth over jeans, and golden-flecked black feathers in his hair.

  “That explains things,” Claire said, speaking of the drumbeats.

  Daniel Walks-With-Secrets followed behind, also wearing a loincloth over jeans, and no shirt. The drummer announced, “Our medicine man has a story to tell you, according to the traditions of my people, the Keelywots.”

  The two did a couple of whoops and circled each other until the drummer backed away, beating the drum, supported by a leather strap around his neck. Zo liked a handsome painting of a wolf and a raven on the drum’s barrel.

  Captain Daniel spoke. “My people are a very small, almost extinct, tribe with a great mission. We’re what you might call priests. We, however, prefer the term medicine men. We have existed among the legendary Superstition Mountains for countless moons,” he said with great drama, adding gestures to entertain the white folks. “We call those mountains God’s Own.

  “We were once as numerous as buffalo on the plains. This valley was green and lush from rivers and waterfalls cascading down cliffs. But after it was rumored to have gold in the mountains, evil men came to explore sacred hills and get rich quick. Many murders.” He stabbed himself with an imaginary knife and hunched over. “Many soldiers.” He dotted fingers up his arm like running horses. “Many vices.” He grimaced as he clenched both hands into fists. “God has taken His Own from the sight of bad men, greedy men—and women.

  “I’m glad he didn’t look over at me on that one,” Zo said to Claire.

  “During the day, the hill’s eyes are watching.” Daniel Walks-With-Secrets looked into the crowd, hunching a bit as he paced the front row. “God judges each man for the content of his heart. You too, ladies. At night…”—he drew an arm across the expanse of the night sky—“there are spirit walkers who guard God’s Own.”

  The drum began a soft, continuous beat. The glow of the fire reflected off Daniel’s body like gold, accentuating the cut of his muscles, and the movements of his arms and hands. “Evil men cannot escape the watchers, who see all. They are hunters, fast and without fail. Justice is bloody and quick!” He struck the side of one hand into the palm of the other.

  He peered into the eyes of those sitting about. No one dared to eat their snacks. “Do not go out into the mountains at night. Do not go out for a stroll past the fences of this ranch at night. Unless, of course, you are absolutely innocent of heart. Or you will encounter death and be added to the number of those who went missing or were found without their heads. And then there is that ‘being eaten’ thing which has happened to a few reckless wanderers.”

  Everyone looked at each other in horror. Zo shifted in her seat, wondering if he had taken his scary tales too far, when the mournful sound of a coyote in the distance gave her a chill.

  He went on, however. “There was a prospector named Jacob Waltz who claimed to have found vast amounts of gold. We Keelywots know from our folklore of the cave Waltz discovered. It’s a cave where gold spans walls, ceiling and floor. People have driven themselves mad trying to find the location which Waltz kept secret. He came into town with gold nuggets; that was enough to lure crazy gold-seekers ‘til this day.

  “All this greediness for all these years has been an aggravation to the Apache, so they chase gold-crazed people around the mountains ever since the Spanish soldiers.”

  There was a soft giggle from the audience at the thought of that.

  “Oh, yeah. You got the picture! Old, white-bearded gold-digger running across the desert floor to the north, pursued by Apache Indians. Then, same old, white dude, moth-bitten hat pulled down tighter over his head, running to the south, pursued by even more Indians. Then, ticked-off Indians running to the north, pursued by… the Lone Ranger!”

  A louder chuckle went up from the crowd.

  “Keelywots sat in mountains on rocks in shade, watching the view, waving rawhide banners, and taking bets on who would win.” He paused with a wistful smile, then said, “I’ll take questions at this time.”

  One man yelled out, “How many Keelywots are there exactly?”

  “Not as many as there were, but more than you’d suppose,” he said, dropping his accent. “We survive by less information known. I’ll tell you one thing—we Keelywots refer to ourselves as Indians, as do other nations. Our elders speak the word with pride, so it’s been passed down throughout generations with pride. We love embodying our reputation. We were fierce to those who tried to destroy us. We appropriated and skillfully used what the white man brought to annihilate us. Any beautiful oil painting you see, of us riding in the middle of stampeding buffalo to get our winter meat, isn’t any cookie-cutter depiction of Native Americans; it’s true. We keep our Indian history very much alive.”

  The drums rose to highlight the moment, as did a “Whoo-whoo-haaya!” from the drummer.

  “Thank you, Dennis. Ladies and gentlemen, our drummer, Dennis Dances-With-Scary-Ghosts.”

  An appreciative applause went up, accompanied by amused smiles.

  “And I might add, if any of you have tooth problems, he is also known as Dennis the Dentist. He may be consulted at the Sunnyside Medical building.

  “Whaaaya!!!”

  “Thanks, Dennis.”

  “Okay, people, go over to the barn now for dancing and more food.”

  The drumming persisted while everyone filed out.

  As Zoey and Claire strolled over to a well-lit barn, the melody of The Yellow Rose of Texas started up, performed by The Moonlight Cactus Ropers. A mellow, deep voice sang the lyrics.

  Once inside, the two were happily impressed by the spread set before them with paper plates for barbecued chicken, corn-on-the-cob, string beans seasoned with bacon, fruit salad, homemade bread with churned butter, olives, pickles and potato chips. Plastic cups filled with ice stood ready for every kind of soft drink and ice-cream punch. The portable bar already had a line-up of dude cowboys.

  “I don’t know which offered more food,” Claire remarked as she eyed it all, “that cruise we took or this dude ranch.” After popping a grape into her mouth, she surveyed the crowded barn, and said, “I wonder what happened to Brooks…”

  “He’s probably on his way,” Zo said.

  The band soon picked up tempo for These Boots Are Made for Walking. People with wide smiles and unbridled laughter were dancing away, as the noise grew.

  The mother and daughter situated themselves on a hay bale to scope out the crowd. People were coming into the dance who weren’t guests of the ranch. “Evidently, they put on dances for the entire community,” commented Zo.

  “Catch who’s headed this way, Mom.”

  Zo turned to see Captain Daniel weaving through the crowd. He had his vest back on, but his distinct swagger reignited the heat that instantly rose in her face.

  He stopped in front of Zo and extended a hand. “May we dance, lovely lady?” Once she accepted it, he smiled
over at Claire with a nod to say hello.

  They merged into the dancers’ traffic lane, everyone moving to the right in a circle for Save the Last Dance for Me. After staking their place, Daniel let go of Zo’s hand and bounced on one foot and then the other, turning in circles with high-pitched yips. Zo stood with a hand on her hip and a wry smile.

  “What’s the matter, beauty? It’s two hops on the left foot, then two hops on the right foot, turning to the right, and then the left, with vocal exuberance.”

  “You just love weirding out white people.”

  “Okay. You got my number. C’mon.” Daniel swooped Zo into an impressive ballroom hold and waltzed smoothly, sliding his feet to and fro, occasionally whisking her around.

  “I like your pink-checked blouse,” he said. “It goes well with your beautiful hair. Blond, yet red. Hmmm.”

  “Strawberry blond,” Zo said. “You are a man of details.”

  “I guess it’s part of my job.” He smiled down at her. His eyes were dark, but not so much that she couldn’t see into their depths.

  “Your eyes are beautiful,” she said.

  “What?” He pulled his neck back. “I’m totally disarmed. You are the first woman to say such an extraordinary compliment, not like, ‘I think you’re hot’ or ‘You look nice.’”

  “Well, in that case, I feel we have had enough chance meetings, and even a dinner arrangement, so that I may say how much I love the strength of your shoulders…”—she let her eyes travel across them while she was talking—“the appealing line of your neck, the curve of your lips.” She brought her gaze up from his neck to his mouth and then smiled, looking deeply into his eyes.

  The captain missed a step. “You are powerful!”

  Zo’s smile broadened.

  “You are so powerful, if you were out on the desert floor, snakes would turn away in fear. Coyotes would yelp home for their mommas. But beware, you are at risk of an Indian ambush somewhere least expected.”

  “Oh really?”

  “I’ll swing you into my arms and place a kiss upon you so wonderfully, it will leave you little room for breathing.” He pulled her hand up and placed a kiss on the back of it.

  “You do have a way with words,” she said airily.

  The music changed and people began forming a line dance.

  “Not my style,” Captain Daniel said. He took her hand and they sat down.

  “Ah, the bracelet,” he noticed, bringing up her arm to look at it closer. “Would you consider selling it at a generous price? Strictly for greedy reasons on my part. Me want silver shiny things on both arms—same-same.”

  “I actually haven’t had this cuff off my arm since I found it. I’ve grown rather attached to it. So, nooo. And do you know what?” she confided, “Since finding it, I sometimes hear soft drums in the distance.”

  He looked into her eyes with much… much… Well, she couldn’t tell. But she did know it was a little frightening. “Excuse me, but I must go,” he said as he suddenly departed, leaving her alone on the dance floor.

  “Well, that’s weird,” agreed Claire after hearing the report. “You know what else is weird? Where is Brooks after all this time?!”

  The two decided to go to the horse barn and see if they could find him. A dim overhead light was on, but no one was there.

  “I don’t feel good about this,” Claire whispered.

  They continued their walk past the row of stalls. A couple of horses popped their heads over their gates, but most were out in the large corral. Zo took a moment to talk sweetly to one.

  Claire kept going, past a row of ATVs. She looked in the direction of one stall’s partially-opened gate. A man was lying in the straw. All she could make out from her vantage point were his boots and tight jeans.

  “Mom!” Claire exclaimed as she ran in. There lay Brooks, blood dripping from his hairline.

  SIX

  “Oh, no! Brooks!” Claire dropped to her knees in the dirt and clutched his shoulders, pulling him up. His eyes slowly opened, then blinked at her as if she were a vision.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Hmm.”

  “Stay awake. We need to get you some help.” She lifted him into a seated position, and securely held him with an arm around his back. “Talk to me, Blondie,” she pled.

  “Ehhh… Am I alive still?”

  “What happened?” asked Zo, crouching down.

  “Uhhh. Goldstrike was upset. I went to see what the matter was. I sensed someone was in the stall with us. I saw a figure, but I got clobbered… and I …don’t know why.” He smeared the blood running down his forehead, wiping it away from his right eye.

  “How horrible,” Claire said, looking him over with concern.

  “I’m calling the police,” Zo announced. “Claire, your phone.” She held out a hand. Claire passed it to her and Zo pressed 911.

  Turning his head every which way to search, Brooks asked, “Where did you put Goldstrike?”

  “We haven’t seen him,” Zo answered, waiting for a dispatcher to answer.

  Brooks tried to rub the blood off his eye to see better. “He stole my horse!” he exclaimed, closing his eyes with a grimace.

  “Is he valuable?” asked Claire with a kiss to the unbloodied side of his forehead.

  “He’s a registered palomino quarter horse… and a silver buckle roping horse, at that. I don’t want to lose him.” Brooks squeezed his eyes shut. “Lord, help me. I’m in pain.”

  “Okay, enough questions,” Zo said. “You need to rest. Besides, an ambulance will be here shortly.”

  “Wait! Claire, did you just kiss me on the forehead?”

  “Ahh, yep.”

  “I feel a little better…” he said dizzily. “ I feel a little… better.”

  A loud braying was heard from down the way.

  “Uh-oh,” Brooks said. “Roy and Goldstrike are stable mates. Somebody’s got to give Roy extra treats tonight, or he’s not going to settle down.”

  The ambulance arrived and the EMTs took charge. “Do you know if you were knocked out?” the first asked.

  “I don’t know anything…”

  Another looked into Brooks’s eyes with a light, while the first steadied his gurney. Then they lifted him, covered him with a hospital blanket, strapped him securely, and away they went. The siren blared and they were off to a medical facility as soon as a couple deputies arrived.

  A small crowd of curious people returned to the dance, and everything went back to the way it was. Zoey and Claire tried to enjoy the rest of the night’s festivities, but their thoughts were preoccupied by their shared concern and worry for Brooks. Not to mention, Captain Daniel’s strange behavior. Claire avoided being asked to dance, which subjected her mom to becoming the target of those who tossed her around fast, pumping her arm like a rusted spigot lever that needs priming, or pushing her backwards in a fast-footed boogie. The most fun she had was a reasonable dance with a ten-year-old.

  “I’ve had it, Claire,” she said when done. “What say we get some goodies and take them back to our room?”

  “Okay… Try not to get caught at the dessert table.”

  They grabbed some cookies and a couple of little cartons of milk. After eating their fill back in the privacy of their room, they slid into the tightly tucked, clean sheets of their beds. By the time the last car finally drove away from the dance, the moon was at its brightest, illuminating their curtains.

  “I’m going to open the curtains to look at that gorgeous moon, Mom. Will it bother you?”

  “I don’t think so… I’m not settled and ready to sleep yet, anyway.”

  Claire gave a swift pull before diving back under her covers. “Wow!”

  “Yeah. And look how bright the stars are…”

  “Look how many bright stars there are. It lights up everything.”

  Just then, a man with black stripes on his face stood up in front of their window, peering in. Two feathers stuck up at the back of his head, and th
e sound of drumming accompanied his unexpected appearance.

  Sitting up with yelps, Claire grabbed her cell phone and Zo lifted a lamp off the nightstand for a weapon. The man turned, showing his rugged profile before walking off. Then came the silhouette of a mule that paused and looked in, raising his upper lip in a mulish grin before continuing in the same direction the man went. A moment later, the mule returned, walking by with a feather in his mouth.

  Zo and Claire looked at each other for any explanation of what could have happened, but eventually just lay back down with mutual sighs.

  “That was way creepy, Mom.”

  Zo smiled. “Yes, except for Roy, who always looks so darling.”

  “I’ve got my cell phone.”

  They jumped out of bed and hastily put on clothes, only this time, choosing the more rugged footwear, the roper boots. Out they went, searching for the figure who had stared in the window at them. The night air was still warm, but everything was deathly quiet with only the sounds of nature as a distant backdrop. Even their footfalls were softly muffled in the dirt.

  Nobody.

  “Why are we out here?” Claire asked quietly, her eyes scanning the desert brush ahead of them.

  “Curiosity,” Zo simply said.

  “You know what curiosity does…”

  “Yes. Brings adventure.”

  Claire tilted her head and opened her mouth to retort, but stopped.

  “Okay…” Zo placed her hands on her hips in determination. “Let’s go see what Roy is doing. I’d like to get that feather, if we can, for some sort of identification.”

  They found Roy standing in Goldstrike’s stall, the feather lying on top of some hay.

  Zo rubbed the mule’s bristly cheek. He responded with appreciative chin and lip movements. Strangely there were some stickers in his tail. “Roy, here, is all dirty like he’s been out walking and wasn’t brushed down.”

  Claire stroked his back in thought. “Brooks gave me the impression Roy goes everywhere on this ranch—at his own discretion.”

  “What if…” Zo stopped for consideration. “What if Roy knows what happened to Goldstrike?! They are buddies.” She picked up the feather and stuffed it into her back pocket.