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

by Zoey Kane

  Both ladies shook their heads no. Claire said, “I know the bush outside the caves was deliberately placed there, and it’s dried up and dead like a giant tumbleweed.”

  “Was it? Anyway,” he said, “It turns out that their prospective gold mine is in the same hill as the gold mine on my map. Maybe that’s why they wanted to off me—to keep others from their discovery.”

  He continued with his brow wrinkled, “Is gold a valid reason for murder? Always has been, hasn’t it?!” He paused and leaned forward with a lower voice. “I know I can trust you two. Since they had a map to the same spot my map shows, I think they found The Lost Dutchman’s Mine already.”

  “Reeeeally?” Claire asked with fascination.

  Zo raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes. You heard them say they had lots of money and didn’t need me, or even my map—although they took it so they could keep their secret.” He looked around to see if he was drawing anyone’s attention. “I got it back from Ed’s body when everybody went into emergency-mode.” His eyes expressed a more serious intent. “I would really like to get back there someday and look things over more closely, if you know what I mean?”

  “Okay,” said Claire. “But it’s cordoned off with police everywhere.”

  “I can wait. I’ve got to go and fill out paperwork for the police and insurance. My I.D. burned up in the plane, you know.”

  Marlene walked by and paused only a second, but long enough to say, “You people cannot stay out of trouble, can you?!”

  Claire and Zo were at a loss for words, or at least, the right words, because they had words, all right. Marlene traipsed off, and Claire said to her mom, “I want to compliment you on having enough strength of character not to rail all over her. I, on the other hand, made claw marks on the tablecloth!”

  Her mother narrowed her eyes in thought. “Thank you, that was a redline moment. I prefer to be a lady and not make a scene.” She took a drink of water before saying, “What a bully!”

  Bill turned and called in Marlene’s direction, “Those pants make your butt look e-e-e-normous!”

  Marlene took a half step like she was going to turn around, but thought better of it.

  “There, you can’t say I didn’t pay you back for saving my life,” he said with a chortle.

  “Agreed!” Zo raised her water glass for a toast, which all three joined in with a bit of laughter.

  About halfway through their meal, Zo asked Bill, “Do you have any thoughts on who might have stolen Goldstrike to follow you three over to George’s Box Caves? Did you see anyone?” She took a bite of strawberry covered in cream.

  “No and no.” He sucked down his milkshake.

  The rest of the brunch was rather silent. The trio ate, but remained deep in thought.

  Mackey came limping in and stopped at their table. One eye was scrunched a bit, like he couldn’t stop wincing. “You three have managed to make this the most interestin’ summer since the ranch opened.”

  “Sit down and have a little something with us,” Bill invited him.

  “Can’t. That crazy mule reached over an’ bit me on the behind.” Mackey rubbed it a little. “He’s always doin’ somethin’ like that. He thinks it’s funny!”

  Zo and Claire laughed. “Oh, sorry,” Zo said, trying to restrain her amusement. “It just sorta came out… sorry.”

  “Aaaah. I’ve gotta git goin’.” On his way out, Mackey went over to Marlene and Richard’s table to talk to them before schmoozing with the rest of the guests, saying hi, and asking how they were.

  “Well, sweetie,” said Zo to Claire, “let’s go and see what we can find to do today. We’ll see you later, Bill.”

  In the foyer, a crowd was gathering around two men who were arguing about The Lost Dutchman’s Mine. Evidently, both believed in it, and were packing their supplies, but making fun of the other’s equipment.

  “What’s this?” Claire said out loud in surprise.

  A random cowboy with a toothpick in his mouth said, “That’s just Jed Hatter and Tim Moomey— prospectors who’ve been goin’ at each other for years.”

  “Look at you, with all your picks and ropes,” said a big-bellied man with long red hair and bushy pork chop sideburns. “There’s no entrance on the top of any of these mountains. Ha ha, you’re wasting your time. Not that I care.”

  His wiry counterpart rebutted, “Maybe I got me a map, Hatter.”

  “Sure!” he said dryly. “Like you would have the real map.”

  Tim pulled up the waist of his jeans, then shook a long, dirty finger at him. “You and your brothers have always been know-it-all miscreants, even in school. Just don’t get in the way of me and mine. Mind your own business, you know-nothin’ tub o’ lard!”

  “Why you…” Jed charged forward like a bull. His butt crack peeked over the top of his worn jeans as he knocked Tim to the ground. And then the foyer was a free-for-all. Curse words and fists were flying.

  Mackey ran in from his office as Zo and Claire flattened themselves against a wall to inch their way toward the front door. One rough-looking, old man was slammed right next to Zo, cracking some wood paneling. A metal telescope he’d been using as a club, clattered to the ground. Zo handed it back to the tough-as-beef-jerky old guy and patted him on the shoulder twice, whereupon he said “thanks” before launching himself back into the fray.

  Finally, the Kanes managed to open the front door and find some sanctity on the porch before a man went flying outside and hit the dirt hard. He got up, dusted off his pants, wiped blood off his nose with a sleeve, and went running back in, just to be forcibly thrown out again.

  Mackey could be heard yelling, “Hey! You boys! I’m raisin’ yer rent! I’m gonna keep raisin’ yer rent until you stop!”

  It instantly got quiet.

  Claire crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Ah, the unparalleled power of money, Mom.”

  “Oh, yeah. Money makes the world go round. Speaking of which, I’m excited about getting our money transfer.”

  “I thought it was love that… makes… I suppose not.”

  Zo paused, tapping her lace-up boots. “We’ve been involved in the near-murder of Bill, a mule-whooping of George, a shooting by me, a fist fight in the foyer, and let’s not forget how we hear drums now and then. Would you say we’re unbelievable?”

  “Yep. What would you say?”

  “I’d say poor George had a bad day! His evil deeds got him tooth-deep in dirt! We, on the other hand, find ourselves in these circumstances because we’re willing to seek answers—for Brooks, for Goldstrike, and the drums.”

  Claire shrugged. “We could stay home and join the flower club or something.”

  “What? And miss our ride across No Man’s Land of interesting shapes and varmints?” Zo wrinkled her nose in thought. “Maybe we can come back with an absolutely boring report on bucktoothed rabbits, and sunburns, along with a tarantula sighting or two.”

  “Okay. That does sound like fun.” Claire smiled eagerly. “I just don’t want to see any rabbits with huge fangs.”

  “Deal!”

  A young ranch hand, maybe eighteen, stepped up to the porch and asked, “I’m Ralph. You the two who wanted to go for a ride?” An all-terrain vehicle was parked a few feet behind him, all shiny and red, without a spot of mud. A khaki canvas top was unfurled and ready to shade the two riders.

  “Yes, that would be us,” Zo said. “I’ve never driven one of these before. I was expecting horses, or maybe Roy.” She had to admit she was now extra-fond of the mule, since he became her hero.

  “Oh, I apologize, ma’am,” he said. “A vet’s here to give the horses some shots and do some routine check-ups. Should I take the four-wheeler away?”

  Claire said, “No, Ralph. It looks like fun.”

  Zo turned to her. “You wanna drive?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good, I’ll just relax. You can chauffeur me.”

  The teen smiled and patted a large metal container
on the back of the vehicle. “The kitchen made you some snacks, chicken salad sandwiches, and a gallon of water is in there also. Don’t forget to drink a lot while you’re out in the heat.” He lifted the lid. “Here’s some binoculars, a map of the terrain, and a walkie-talkie—”

  Zo interrupted, “Why would we need a walkie-talkie?”

  “Oh, you know, just in case.” He shrugged. “It’s the ranch’s policy that every ATV rental comes equipped with one. The channel is already set. If you need help, just hold the side button down and Mackey, himself, will hear ya.”

  Claire asked, “Kickin’ Kountry Something-or-Another is within driving distance, right?”

  “Kountry Kickin’ Fashions and Gas? Sure, you can take the four-wheeler there. It’s about five miles south…” Ralph opened the metal box and pulled the map out of a side pocket of an all-weather bag, showing them the exact whereabouts.

  They thanked him before he left with a wave. Sitting in their seats and donning straw cowgirl hats, they were finally ready to go, when who, of all people, should come driving up in another ATV? Marlene and Richard. Marlene was driving, of course.

  Richard got out to run to the office for something. Claire started their engine, and it idled as they began fastening their seat belts. When the belts snapped, Claire reversed, passing by Marlene.

  “Have a fun day,” Zo said to the woman. There was no reply, only a hard stare.

  “See, Mom? We’ve become graciously boring already and totally believable.” They continued down some soft, steady dirt before hitting bumpier terrain.

  Zo smiled in response. It was a beautiful day, although quite a few clouds loomed overhead in the pale blue sky. They made their way to a soft dirt road by the back fence.

  “Hello, ladies.” A ranch hand rode by on a buckskin horse.

  “Ralph says the vet is at the barn looking over the horses,” Claire called after the cowboy.

  His voice came trailing back to them, “That’s where I’m headed now!”

  “I think I want a cookie,” Zo said. “Want one, sweetie?

  “Sure, make it two.”

  Zo fished them out of the container behind them. “Here you go.” They were oatmeal-raisin.

  As they drove by the back pasture, they saw a cowboy swinging a coiled rope, herding several head of unmotivated steers into a corral.

  “Pleasant, isn’t it?” Zo commented as she took a deep breath of sunny air. “Everything smells fresh with a hint of hay.”

  “Well, what way should we go, Mom?” Claire asked, driving through the gate. “Straight over to the Box Caves? I heard the police were done there. Or over to that rocky butte, Devil’s Tooth, where we went the first time?”

  Zo leaned back and relaxed an arm across their seats. She was wearing a simple tank top, savoring the warm breeze. “I think… in order to have a totally normal, sane day, we should go rock hunting somewhere in the middle.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Bump! That was no desert pothole. They were being hit from behind.

  What the…?” Zo started.

  EIGHT

  It was scary Marlene in a floppy, wide-brimmed sun hat and oversized sunglasses. A crazed smile spread across her tanned face. Richard’s expression was frozen in surprise, his neck having been whiplashed from the impact. Marlene revved her engine and bumped them again, this time harder.

  “You’re crazy!” Claire yelled, swerving.

  Marlene sped by, toward the Superstition Mountains, puffing up the dirty sand behind her quad.

  “She sure is,” Zo said.

  “Can you believe that?” Claire came to a stop. “Who would believe that a grownup woman, president of a country club, no less, would purposely bump anyone—and twice?! And just what the heck does she have against us? That she thinks we’re poor people interloping on her vacation?”

  Zo shook her head at the idea.

  Claire smoothed some bangs out of her eyes. “You don’t seem as surprised as me.”

  “No, I’ve been around longer than you, and therefore, met more than a few Marlenes in my life.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. They’re no more than a bunch of craps in a pot.”

  Claire scrunched her nose, and put her hands back on the handlebars. “What’d you say? Craps in a pot?”

  Zo turned to her. “Crabs. Crabs.”

  “Oh.” She was relieved. “Still, what is that supposed to mean?”

  “I heard a woman on the radio explaining how some women are like crabs in a pot. You ever see crabs in a pot?” Claire said no, and Zo explained, “Some try to escape, but the others pull them back down. Marlene isn’t going to let us escape her fury. Not as long as we’re in the same desert with her, anyway.”

  Claire revved up the engine. “This is going to be a boring day, Mom. So I’m not going to speed up to rear-end, T-bone, or cause a head-on collision. Even if it would bring me great satisfaction.”

  “Good choice… You are showing colossal self-control and wisdom.” A crooked smile crossed Zo’s lips as she thought of the next best thing. “Maybe I’ll give her a shove the next time she bends over to pick up that suitcase she calls a purse.”

  With that outrageous image in their minds, they laughed and continued their fun drive of exploration.

  Zo pulled a disposable camera out of their picnic basket. “See what the kitchen packed in our lunch? This is something you and I don’t always think of doing… taking pictures.”

  “Yep.”

  So they took pit-stops for Zo to shoot photos of bright flowers, unusual cacti, and the distant mountain range. Last, but not least, was a cute, little lizard with what looked like tribal tattoos across his bumpy skin. He posed on a rock with one wide-eye, as if asking who are you? when Zo snapped a photo.

  “Look out, Mom!” Claire hovered over her shoulder. “He just raised that front foot. I think he intends to slap you.”

  “Okay, we’ll go away, little, chubby buddy.”

  The two also picked up interesting objects: a piece of knotty wood that looked like Abraham Lincoln, and some rather dazzling quartz rocks. There was one rock in particular that glittered like gold. “Eureka!” Zo shouted.

  “Sorry, Mom. That’s fool’s gold. But I like fool’s gold, so bring it anyway.”

  While walking back to the ATV, Zo shot a finger up in the air with an “I know! Let’s give it to Marlene.”

  “Now, now, Mother…” Claire wagged her finger playfully.

  “Okaaay.”

  “Hey, I’m not saying don’t do it if you really want to…”

  They had their picnic lunch when they reached the shade of the mountain, and decided to retire not long afterwards. As they started heading out, they came upon a couple of parked Ford pickups, circa 1954 and 1989, with boxes in both. Claire drove along in the shade, nearing them. A ruddy, sun-wrinkled man got out of his doorless brown truck with a rifle, raising his hand for them to stop. Claire didn’t know if she should obey or race past him, and eventually, chose to stop with her foot raised slightly above the gas pedal, just in case.

  “What are you women doing here?” he asked, then spat out tobacco.

  Claire answered, “We are going back to The Lost Miner’s Dude Ranch, taking the shady route.”

  He walked toward them and stopped, eyeing the ranch’s logo on the back fender. “I guess you are. I have to warn you two, though—there are some real nasty prospectors and mine owners up in these mountains who wouldn’t think twice at taking shots at you for being mistaken as nosy. Reeeal mean cusses.” He spat again.

  “Understood,” replied Zo. “You do know, there’s no such thing as The Lost Dutchman’s Mine, don’t you?”

  Claire bit her tongue with worry over that comment.

  The man turned redder, and his face swelled in anger. “Well, maybe I just got me a map to everything in these mountains. You two get out of here, and don’t come back this way again or I’ll shoot you myself!”

  Claire took off wi
thout another word. Once her heart slowed down to its normal cadence, she said, “Jeez, everyone is looking for the Dutchman’s gold. And,” she added, sounding flustered, “what possessed you to say that to him? I thought you believed in the treasure!”

  “I do believe in the possibility… I just wanted to know what motivated him to question us, and with a gun? Evidently, he hasn’t had any luck, or he wouldn’t have gotten so outraged.”

  “I was afraid he might shoot us. You can’t trust anyone out here. They’ve all got gold fever.” She sped up. “Just be careful.”

  “Are we still going to Kats Kickin’ and Passing Gas?”

  Claire made a sharp turn to the left, shooting up sand as she went. “What?”

  “Whatever it is, we’re going, right?”

  “Right!”

  *

  Kountry Kickin’ Fashions and Gas surpassed Zoey and Claire’s expectations. Yes, Slim Jims were poking up all around the store—next to the register, postcards, and along the aisle of designer jean jackets—but hey, they had designer jackets. Some were tan or black leather, with or without fringe, others with tassels and beads. Then there were the jean jackets, faded and dark, embroidered, bedazzled, and plain.

  Claire touched some fringe on a leather skirt and said, “Never before have I considered going country so much as I do now.”

  “Me too,” Zo said, spinning a rack of purses with giant, sparkling rhinestones.

  “Can I help you?” a girl, maybe sixteen years old, asked. She wore a pink handkerchief for a headband, which matched her apron.

  “Yes,” Claire said, reluctantly unriveting her eyes from the leather, fringed skirt. “We’re here for your Western Union services. A friend wired us some money.”

  After the girl pulled up the info on her computer, her eyes went wide. “I’m going to need to get some extra cash from our safe.” She glanced up and added, “I’ll be right back.”

  They were the only patrons there at the moment. After the girl counted out the many bills into the palm of Zo’s eager hand, Zo purchased a red purse with lots of country bling, among other basics. They included earrings, makeup, floss, sunglasses, and a signed photo off the wall of Neil Diamond, who needed a one-time gas-up. At the last second, Claire added a coral-colored clutch purse to the transaction.