* * * * *
At the Wagon Wheel Restaurant, Zack spun his spoon in his coffee cup and watched Eagle Feather for his reaction. They were seated across from each other with plates strewn with remnants of egg and biscuit crumbs in front of them. Zack described his meeting with Dan Singletree and related Veronica Nimri's extraordinary account.
Eagle Feather cocked an eye at Zack. "This creature sounds much like others we have come across in the past. A sighting such as this can not be confirmed, but it should not be dismissed, either." He gave Zack an amused look. "Especially not by us."
Eagle Feather was referring to past joint investigations. For good, or sometimes for ill, Zack's reputation for dealing with the "unusual" crimes often led them to cases where ancient myths and legends received new life from sightings or sounds on tribal lands. They were difficult to affirm. Tribal members outwardly discounted these stories despite their beliefs, to minimize controversy. Zack soon learned not to dismiss reports of strange creatures from the standpoint of his logical processes; too often events led to situations he could not explain. Stories of one such legendary creature spanned several tribes and reservations, a bipedal giant very similar to Veronica's creature.
"I agree," Zack said with a nod. "But for the moment, the thing Veronica saw does not seem to play into our murder investigation. Unless Native American lore has changed greatly, none of their legends involve gunslingers."
"According to the Chief, the reported sightings were all at Hidden Springs––you think that is a coincidence?"
Zack shrugged. "I'm content to attribute it to something entirely different, and much older, from the sounds of it. The murder of these two boys is a modern mystery, plain and simple." He smiled. "At least, modern as in the last century or so." He stood. "We've got work to do. We'd better get to it."
By this time the sun was high, the air uncomfortably warm. Zack closed up the Jeep and turned on the AC. Rolling along Interstate 40 at 65 mph the big tires rumbled, the engine whined, and the AC hummed. Zack had to speak loudly to be heard.
"Somebody doesn't want us hanging around here."
Eagle Feather raised an eyebrow. "The warning call to Susan?"
"That, and the rattlesnake in my wardrobe last night."
Zack watched Eagle Feather's reaction; for once he'd caught the Navajo by surprise.
"Something you had not planned to wear, I assume." He stared at Zack.
"I almost did, but I closed the door just in time. It slithered under the bed. I let the motel people deal with it."
Eagle Feather's eyes stayed on Zack. "How do you think it got in there?"
Zack's laugh lacked humor. "I think it had a little help. I found my motel door wasn't latched securely when I returned last night." He glanced at Eagle Feather. "Is that how you and Susan got in to surprise me with Blue?"
Eagle Feather's eyes went forward to the road. "Yes. The door was not latched. I thought you had been careless, I meant to mention it."
Neither man spoke for a moment.
"This person means business," Eagle Feather said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
That night Kella slept with Col in his tent. Their lovemaking was sweet, tender, awkward and clumsy, each anxious not to hurt the other, neither expecting nor wanting anything beyond this single moment of intimacy and exploration. When dawn came, Col awoke to tousled brown curls across his arm, the sweet smell of perfumed soap in his nose. He lay exalting in it, feeling the warmth of Kella's body next to his, responding in his heart to the trust bestowed upon him by this wonderful being. When he could stand it no longer he disengaged himself from warm limbs against disapproving groans and pulled on his jeans and shirt. Outside the tent, Julio had the breakfast fire roaring. He looked up as Col appeared and grinned.
"Good morning, lover boy. Ready for some coffee?"
Col smiled shyly. "Oh, yes."
As Julio poured the boiling water through the filter into a cup, he said, "I've been studying the map we drew from that slab. I think I've figured out what some of the signs mean."
Col squatted down and accepted the hot coffee from Julio. "Tell me."
"Well, this group of four vertical lines, for instance. They are grouped close together, but curve away slightly at the top. Etching stone with a knife blade, or whatever Juan used, isn't easy. You take shortcuts, you carve representative markings instead of full scale drawings, yes?"
"Okay."
"So vertical grouped lines curved away at the top suggest motion to me, maybe even flowing."
"Like water."
"Yes, exactly. More specifically, like a spring."
Col raised his eyebrows. "That would narrow down the location."
"Yes it would, if we could establish which spring."
Col took the pencil drawing from Julio's hand. "What other signs have you deciphered?"
"Well, there are the obvious ones we've already discussed. The dotted lines, for instance, maybe represent strides or steps, specific distances from one location to the next."
Col nodded, sipped his coffee carefully. It was burning hot.
"This round egg shape––I think that's the treasure, whatever it might be. It seems to be the endpoint of all the other signs."
"Okay."
"These parallel lines, intersected with three vertical lines, suggest a fence."
"Well, that narrows it down. Not too many of those around."
Julio glanced at Col. "Very funny."
"Sorry."
Julio took back the map. "I can't figure out this thing, though, two Xs, one on top of the other."
Col looked over his shoulder. "Two of something right next to one another, like two trees or two rocks?"
"Maybe. Whatever they are, it is an end point for stepping off the distances. We are missing two critical bits of information: the particular spring, and what these Xs represent. Once we know that, we can start the search."
A slender arm came reached between the boys and took the paper from Julio.
"Good morning, miss." Julio looked up, smiling.
Col felt an arm slide over his shoulder.
"Could these two Xs be the tower of a windmill?" Kella suggested. She picked up an empty cup and held it toward Julio. "Coffee, please."
Col snatched back the map. "Of course. That's why the Xs are right on top of each other, to indicate trusses."
"Here's your coffee, genius." Julio filtered the dark liquid into her cup. "If it is the windmill tower, it tells us not only the starting place for stepping off the distance, but also which spring it is."
"Hidden Springs," Kella said, with a nod. "It's the only one I know with a windmill tower of any kind still standing."
"There are other windmills around the range," Col pointed out.
"Yes, but they pump from drilled sites. I think this sign indicates a spring." Julio pointed to the vertical curved lines on the map.
Col nodded agreement. "It does look like it."
"Well, it gives us a starting place, at any rate," Julio said.
Col turned to Julio. "You're figuring to go right at it."
"Sure. Why not?"
"Well, for one thing, I keep wondering what happened to Old Juan."
Kella took the cup from her lips, turned her head toward Col. "You don't think he just up and left?"
Col shrugged. "Why would he? Like we said before, everything he's done around here suggests permanence, like he loves the place, his work, the dogs. And now we see he was about to find a treasure. Why on earth would he suddenly leave?"
Kella stared at Col. "Unless he was scared away."
"Or worse..." Julio said.
"Bronc," Col whispered. "The papers he wanted."
"If we go down to Hidden Springs and start digging around, he'll know exactly what we're doing," Julio said.
"And we'll end up missing, like Juan."
"I can't believe he'd just kill someone, can you, really?" Kella looked at each of their faces.
Both boys
shrugged, didn't speak, faces impassive.
"What will you do?" Kella asked.
"I for one am not about to let some gun-toting bully scare me away from a treasure. I mean, what do we really know?" Julio put both hands in the air. "We don't really know if there is a treasure. We don't actually know what happened to Juan; he's probably in Vegas right now drinking coffee with bourbon and kissing some dancing girl on her pasties. We don't really know what papers Bronc wanted from Juan; could be from the sale of a sheep or something." Julio looked at his friends. "What do we really know?"
"Show me Juan and the girl with the pasties and I'll feel better about the whole thing," Col said.
Julio groaned.
"Whatever you decide, I can't join you today," Kella said with a smile. "I have to get started back, I promised dad I'd be home tonight." She leaned into Col, looked up at his face and gave him a quick kiss. "Don't do anything foolish, you."
She rose and went into the tent to begin packing.
"How about some breakfast?" Col called after her.
"Great."
Minutes later bacon snapped and fried in the pan, bread toasted in the rack and Julio mixed his famous salsa and eggs. As they ate, little was said about the treasure, and less about Kella's imminent departure. After the meal, Kella made her final preparations, looked over her tightly packed horse, and said soft goodbyes to Col while Julio finished the dishes.
When she said her goodbyes to Julio, he handed her a stamped, addressed envelope. "Would you mind?"
"I'll mail it as soon as I get home," she promised.
Her final words to both boys came as an admonition. "Stay away from Hidden Springs. Don't do anything about that treasure until I talk to dad about it. Promise me."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Susan was caught up in research at the Needles Public Library for another two hours. There was no doubt in her mind she had found the cause of the murders at Hidden Springs. The tale of gold on Table Top Mountain, so close to both the sheep encampment and the double murder site was too coincidental not to play a part. The question was, what part? And how did the reputed discovery of gold on a mountain a mile away come to effect events at Hidden Springs?
She concentrated on newspaper clippings. The Kelso Times newspaper became extinct in 1946, when troops and munitions were no longer gathered and shipped by train from Kelso after World War II ended. She looked now to the archives of the Needles Desert Star. Slowly accounts came together to offer the shape of a story.
There had long been contention for water rights at Hidden Springs, she learned. The gunfight resulting in the death of both participants in 1905 was said to be about just that, with settlers aligned against the big cattle outfit. But was it really? There had been three men with nefarious reputations as gunmen in the area. Two of them had shot it out at Hidden Springs. The third gunman was one of the partners who stumbled upon the "Iron Door" and the mine's reputed lode of rich ore on Table Top Mountain, a man named Bob Simmons. Coincidence? Susan didn't think so.
Was there another connection with Hidden Springs? Maybe. Susan went back to her original water sluice theory, in which the miners needed to wash the gold ore out of the soil. She found a detailed map of the area and located Table Top Mountain. She grinned in triumph. No doubt about it––Hidden Springs was the closest water to the mountain. If the men found gold, and wanted to separate ore from soil, they needed the water at Hidden Springs.
Suppose there was a sluice set up at Hidden Springs in 1905. Why was it never mentioned? Susan answered her own question: gold required secrecy. Simmons needed a way to disguise the operation to prevent everyone in the territory from descending upon it. He and his partner, a man called Andy Skaggs, must have taken the Winslow Cattle Company foreman, Curt Johnson, into their confidence, probably offered him a cut.
She thought about the windmill within the branches of the large cottonwood tree. It pumped the water into the cattle tank; might it have pumped water to a sluice arrangement, something hidden in a building? She remembered Tav's account relating how Johnson had moved into a cabin or shed of some sort located right at the spring. What if that shed was built specifically to hide a gold ore sluicing operation? What if Johnson had moved into it not to guard the well against sheep and small cattle ranchers, but to guard the hidden gold operation?
Susan chuckled at how things were coming together. The gunfight, for instance: why had Curt Johnson called out from the hut to Skowler to "come on in", an invitation which immediately precipitated the gunfight? Had Johnson been pocketing gold, for instance? Did he fear Skowler suspected him? Had Skowler actually come there to snoop around, try to catch Johnson in the act?
One article suggested a rifle bullet was found in Johnson's spine. If that was true, it might have been a double cross. What if Johnson and Simmons arranged an ambush for Skowler, with Simmons hidden outside the cabin ready to shoot Skowler through the window with his rifle? Could Johnson have called the gunman up to the shed, planning to shoot him as he entered, backed up by Simmons and his rifle? Or had there been a double-double cross? Did Bob Simmons see the opportunity to eliminate both an unwanted partner and a second partner he didn't trust––and keep the gold for himself? Did he wait with his rifle and watch the outcome through the window, then shoot Johnson when it seemed he might survive the fight? Did he intentionally use the same .44 caliber bullet in his rifle that the men had in their pistols, so no one would ever know a third person was involved?
Then...then what? Susan read about the furor the shooting caused in the valley. Lawmen rode out to investigate; locals came by to gawk. How could Simmons have hidden the sluice and kept everyone from learning about the gold? There were no accounts to explain it. She could only speculate. Considering the distances involved, and the isolation of the place, Simmons could well have begun his plan far in advance of the incident; he might have convinced Johnson to help him clean up the place before the ambush, to hide the gold––bury the gold, and destroy the sluice.
Susan's eyes gleamed as her mind raced. Now she knew what the shepherd boys were doing there, what they hoped to find. Somehow they had learned about the hidden gold, about the sluicing operation. They knew everything was buried there at the spring. Somehow they knew, somehow they had an idea where to look...and it cost them their lives.
Bit by bit the pieces came together, the facts tumbled into place. Susan did not yet have all the connecting links, but they would be found. It was time to tell Zack. There was a murderer out there, a killer who knew what the boys were up to, someone protecting the gold, or searching for it himself. Susan was pretty sure she knew who it was.
Zack did not answer his phone. Susan remembered he planned to return to the murder site and the sheep encampment with Eagle Feather. Signals were iffy out there. He probably had his phone off knowing it was useless. The same would be true for Eagle Feather; no point in trying him either.
Susan decided to call Tav Davidson.
He answered on the first ring. "Susan. How are you?"
"Tav, listen, I've discovered some information critical to our investigation, but I can't reach Zack or Eagle Feather. Have they come by?"
"No, not today. Did they plan to come by here?"
"They intended to revisit the crime scene. From what I've learned, I'm concerned for their safety."
"You must have discovered something important."
"Yes. I think I know why the boys were murdered."
There was a short silence. "What did you learn?"
Susan hesitated. "It's rather complicated and long, and it still might not be the correct answer, but it all fits together perfectly and if true, someone might kill again to protect his secret."
"Susan, this is very intriguing. You seem quite convinced. Where are you now?"
"I'm at the Needles Public Library. I've been researching lost treasures here. I've just finished."
Tav laughed. "Lost treasures, eh? Sounds very exciting. Look, why not come out here to Hole-in-t
he-Wall. You can tell me about it and we can go together to find Zack and Eagle Feather. Do you have transportation?"
"Yes, I have Butch Short's Subaru on loan. Thank you, Tav. I may be way off base here, but I'm worried. I'll come right out there."
There was a gnawing emptiness in Susan's stomach. She picked up a sandwich at McDonald's and drove up the I-40 ramp with the burger in one hand and a coke in the cup holder. Her notebook with scribbled notes from her research was on the seat next to her. As she drove, her mind raced. If gold ore had been washed at Hidden Springs, the apparatus was long since gone, as was the shed. Nothing remained but the broken windmill tower. But somewhere, under the sand, would be the remains of the sluice. And if Susan's theory was correct, a lot of gold.
But why wouldn't Simmons have taken the gold when things died down, when no one was around? Susan had no record of what had become of Simmons after the gunfight. Had he become incapacitated in some way? Had he taken some of the gold and never returned for the rest? Had some people suspected him, watched him, so that he had no chance to retrieve it? But what if there was yet another person, someone who knew the gold had been buried, someone who prevented Simmons from returning to retrieve it? There was that other man, Simmons' partner, that man named Skaggs. What happened to him? Where was he during the shooting?
Susan saw her scenario left two loose ends––Simmons and Skaggs. Had they retrieved the gold after all, shared the gold between them, gone off to a new life? Maybe there wasn't any buried gold after all, only the rumor of gold. Yet men were still being killed. Susan supposed it wouldn't be the first time men had died chasing a phantom treasure.
And then there was Bronc. Everything he did, everything he said brought him under suspicion in her mind. He knew something, she was sure. He was protecting more than water rights at Hidden Springs.
Under Desert Sand Page 13
