Callahan's Gold (Southwest Desert Series Book 3)

by Mary Tate Engels

  "Actually, I expected . . ." Dodge rested his muscular forearms on the table and continued to appraise her with those deep-reaching brown eyes. "I thought you'd be much younger. The reason Sharkey talked about his 'little girl' so much was that he remembered you just the way you were the day he left."

  "At age six? Figures. He never bothered to find out whether or not I grew up." There was an unmistakable tang to her words. "Nor did he contribute in any way to the process."

  Dodge leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Sharkey wasn't perfect. But then, none of us are, are we?"

  Tory backed off. No need to dredge up old feelings with this stranger. He had no idea of the hardships Sharkey had caused her and her mother. "I suppose not," she conceded.

  "You know, Sharkey wasn't much of a looker, and I don't see much family resemblance—except maybe your eyes. You have beautiful eyes, you know. Bold and a little daring."

  Tory's dark eyelashes fluttered to her cheeks at his compliment. "Yes, he gave me blue eyes and black hair. But that's about all he contributed."

  Dodge ignored her acerbity. "I would hardly call your eyes blue. They remind me of wild violets. And 'black' doesn't do justice to your hair. It's more like the shiny jet that the Indians use in their jewelry. Sharkey's hair was snow white when we knew him. So was his beard. Nobody ever saw him clean shaven or knew what color his hair was."

  "Yes, well, I'm sure my father spent many years cultivating that distinctive old miner's appearance. About twenty to be exact."

  "You say your name is Talbot, not Carsen? Then you're married?" Dodge's brown eyes classified her boldly, and dropped to her left hand, which was conspicuously bare.

  "Divorced. But I grant you, I couldn't wait to shed the Carsen name."

  "Oh." There was a moment of silence between them. "Funny that Sharkey never mentioned his daughter's being married. Or divorced."

  "It isn't funny at all, Dodge. You see, Sharkey Carsen closed my mother and me out of his life many years ago. And we closed him out of ours. It was better for my mother to think of him as dead. So we did. He never knew, or cared, that I was married or that I was divorced two years ago. And he never knew that my mother was ill or that she died last year."

  "Your mother died? I'm sorry. Did you try to notify Sharkey? I'm sure he would—"

  "No, he wouldn't have wanted to know. It would have reminded him that he had us. And I'm sure he didn't want that." She faced him squarely. "But it didn't really matter what Sharkey thought. My mother didn't want him to be contacted, and I concurred with her wishes."

  "Maybe you were ashamed of him," Dodge accused suddenly. "A grimy old miner, plodding along behind a mule loaded with a pick and six-month's worth of beans and flour."

  "Frankly, I don't know this miner character you're talking about. This is the man I remember."

  She dug into her purse and produced an old, faded photo.

  Dodge looked at the wrinkled and faded snapshot of a younger man, dark haired and clean shaven, staring arrogantly at the camera. His arm was draped over the shoulders of a very attractive woman, definitely resembling the young woman who sat next to him.

  "That's him with my mother about six months before he left. Does he look like a man about to walk out on his family?"

  Dodge's eyes flickered, and his facial expression changed. Softened. "So this is old Sharkey in his younger days? Hell, he wasn't too bad looking. Still doesn't look much like you, though. Except the eyes." He lifted his gaze to meet her violet eyes, and back to the photo. "Yes, there's a touch of the same glint."

  "You say you were Sharkey's partner, Dodge? In a mining company?" Tory changed the subject as she took the photo of her father from Dodge's large hand and slipped it back in her purse.

  "I was one of his partners. Here comes the other one now. Rex Richardson. He's the money man, put up our initial capital."

  Tory quickly assessed the man entering the saloon. Rex Richardson was slight of build, not as tall as Dodge, but energetic and dark haired. He moved rapidly across the plank flooring, greeting a few of the patrons and the bartender along the way.

  "Rex wasn't an active partner in the actual mining," Dodge related before Rex arrived at the table. "Oh, he'd come up to the camp occasionally, but his heart wasn't in it. Sharkey never could understand him. He thought any man who put money into an endeavor should be enthusiastic about the project. Rex wasn't. He was only interested in the bottom line. Can't really blame him for that, though."

  Rex approached the back table, moving fast and talking. "Dodge mi amigo! How the hell are you? Damn shame about Sharkey, wasn't it?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Tory. "I don't think I've had the pleasure, seňorita."

  Dodge stood and introduced them. "Rex Richardson, this is Tory Talbot, Sharkey's little girl."

  "Con mucho gusto, Miss Talbot. Accept my condolences, por favor, about your father's tragic accident. Sharkey was a fine man ... a little bit strange, but aren't we all? Just a little?"

  Tory couldn't help bristling. "To be honest, Mr. Richardson, I'm not in mourning any more than you are."

  He paused shortly and nodded at her pointed correction, his black eyes dropping to her left hand, then lifted questioningly.

  "She's divorced, Rex. But I think she's trying to tell you something. Tell us both, in fact." Dodge quirked an eyebrow.

  "Maybe we can change her mind." Rex winked and turned quickly to the hefty bartender. "Hey, Heck, fix us a round of drinks over here, will you?"

  "I'm fine, thanks." Tory shook her head and indicated her half-full bottle of beer. "Don't we have business to conduct here? Where is Mr. Snyder, anyway?"

  "Don't know about Cliff, but here comes Ramona."

  Tory turned curiously toward the door. "Ramona? Who's that?"

  "Sharkey's—uh—lady friend."

  She glanced over the attractive jet-haired woman, then inclined her head toward Dodge. "His lover?"

  "Well, yes," Dodge admitted with a quick nod. "I'm glad you're so open-minded about this, Tory. It could be a little sticky."

  "Tolerant is a more correct term, Dodge." She paused to sigh impatiently. "Do I have to stay around for this whole charade? I really have no desire to sit around and listen to tributes to my father. Frankly, I just came out of curiosity."

  "I thought you came to claim your inheritance," Dodge replied bluntly. His words were cryptic and his brown eyes accusing.

  "Something like that," she countered with narrowed eyes. "Can you blame me for being interested in the bottom line?"

  He turned his palms outward. "I'm not a judgmental man. This'll be over soon. It looks like everybody's here who should be."

  "Except Cliff Snyder."

  "Speak of the devil." Dodge motioned to the door, then rose to greet the lovely dark-eyed woman who approached their back table. "Hello, Ramona. I want you to meet Sharkey's little girl, Tory Talbot."

  "Hello." Tory smiled politely and weakly shook Ramona's hand. Sharkey's lover. This wasn't going to be easy. She turned to Dodge and muttered for his ears only, "I am not a little girl and have never been Sharkey's. Not since I was six. I'd appreciate it if you'd stop referring to me as such."

  "Yes, ma'am," he nodded solemnly, then winked one of those devil's brown eyes. "It just slipped out."

  Tory bustled in her seat, straightened her shoulders squarely, and looked away. What nerve! Her father certainly had some strange associates.

  "Here comes the lawyer."

  Cliff Snyder, dressed like an 1880s banker complete with gold chain watch looped in his vest pocket, hurried up to the table, a thin manila folder in his left hand. His graying hair peeked from beneath a dark hat, and his thin, straight mustache was as white as snow. "Sorry I'm late, folks. This town is growing so much it's getting downright busy! I see we're all here." He nodded to each member around the table. "Dodge . . . Rex . . . Ramona. . . And you must be Sharkey's little girl." He smiled benevolently at Tory.

  She drew up tight. If she heard "little g
irl" one more time, she thought she'd scream. "I'm Tory Talbot, Mr. Snyder. Sharkey Carsen was my father. I have my birth certificate for identification." She handed him the form, but he didn't even look at it.

  "My, my, Sharkey sure would be pleased with the way you turned out."

  "Thank you, Mr. Snyder, but if my father had wanted to know how I turned out, he would have handled things differently, I'm sure. Now, could we get on with this? I have a plane to catch in Tucson in a few hours."

  "Certainly," he nodded, growing serious. "Are we ready to start this very unpleasant business, that of reading the last will and testament of Sharkey Carsen?" He looked up at the assembled group. "No, there's one more thing. Heck? Bring the pot, please."

  Tory expected coffee, thinking it was damned hot for coffee, but it might keep this group sober. Heck ambled toward them, holding a rather large, brightly painted Indian pot that he set in the center of the old gambling table.

  "Thank you, Heck. Now that we have Sharkey's remains—and his spirit here with us—we can begin the reading of the will."

  Tory's eyes riveted to the gaily decorated Indian pot. "You mean"—she halted in a soft gasp—"he's . . . in there?"

  "Yep," Cliff Snyder said proudly. "He's here with us, waiting for a proper burial."

  "Why—why didn't you take care of that already?" she rasped.

  "Because it's not my job. It's yours. All of yours." The lawyer smiled benevolently and opened the folder.

  Tory took a deep, calming breath and slumped against the chair. This entire day was like a nightmare out of the past. Today she had stepped into a time warp to a town that still had gunfights in the streets, where the women wore hoop skirts and the men stuffed gold chain watches into black vests. Seated next to her was the handsome town marshal with a tin star pinned to his chest; around the table were the gamblers and the old miner's Indian lover. And in the center was a vessel containing the old miner's remains.

  Tory knew it was the twenty-first century. But she couldn't prove it by looking around her here in Tombstone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Tory stared in amazed disgust as Cliff Snyder fortified himself with a stiff shot of Scotch before he began reading the last will and testament of one Sharkey Carsen.

  "I, Sharkey Carsen, being of sound mind and body, do request a gathering of my friends for this reading, including my little girl, Tory—something I could never do during my lifetime.

  "I was always an aimless sort, following the wind, seeking the sun. Now maybe I can leave a legacy of some worth to those people who stood by me. And those I abandoned." Cliff paused and glanced at Ramona. She dropped her eyes, and he went on. "I'm sure of a treasure hidden in the Dragoon Mountains. I've come mighty close to it. Now it's up to you to find it, my friends. With my help. To my partner, Rex Richardson . . ." Cliff paused to look at Rex.

  "Well, go on," Rex urged, impatiently tapping his fingers on the table.

  "Rex, you can have my lucky pick. It's a good one, has dug its share of the glitter. Use it to dig for that sparkly stuff, and you'll get rich. You always were a lucky cuss, anyway."

  Rex squirmed in his seat, then swore a hardy oath. "I always thought that old coot was crazy. Now, here's proof! Who the hell would leave anybody a damned rusty pick? If I wanted a pick, I'd go down to the hardware store and buy one for twenty bucks!"

  "But, Rex, it wouldn't be a lucky pick," Dodge said, chuckling. "And it wouldn't have come from Sharkey."

  Everyone laughed except Rex, who demanded of Cliff, "Is that all? All he left for me?"

  Cliff's gaze dropped to the paper. "There'll be more later on. Okay, let's continue here." Cliff took another quick gulp of his drink. "To my partner, Dodge Callahan, I leave all my other mining tools. Use what you can, Dodge, and sell the rest. Or give them to some poor jackass prospector just starting out to seek the sun. You can have the trailer, to sell or use as you see fit. And I want you to keep an eye on the map." Cliff paused to take another sip of Scotch.

  "Map?" Rex asked anxiously. "What map?"

  "I'm getting to that, Rex. Just be patient."

  "Well, get on with it!"

  Cliff started again. "To Ramona, the lovely lady who has provided love and laughter to my empty life, I leave my Jeep. It's free and clear. Now, Ramona, you can hunt those Indian ruins wherever the four-by-four will take you, honey."

  "Oh, my God, Sharkey . . ." Ramona wiped a tear from the corner of each eye.

  "You'd think," Rex mumbled, "he'd leave her, of all of us, something valuable instead of that rusty hunk of tin."

  Ramona stood quickly and waved her fist across the table. "What do you know of value, Rex Richardson? If it doesn't have a dollar sign on it, you think it's worthless! But you don't know anything about real worth! Or love. Watch what you say about Sharkey or I'll—"

  Dodge rose immediately and stretched his arm around Ramona's shoulder. "Come on now, you two, take it easy. Rex, you're being very insensitive here. And, Ramona, you're a little upset today. We all know this is unpleasant, but let's try to make the best of it."

  Tory watched the drama unfolding before her, taking note of this odd assortment of her father's acquaintances.

  Ramona seemed sincere about her feelings for Sharkey, and Tory felt a natural curiosity about this woman who claimed to love her wayward father. Ramona appeared to be about fifty, was slender and attractive, and carried her Native American traits proudly. Her dark hair was pulled back into a knot, and her hands were unusually large for a woman. Her nails were blunt cut and not polished. This was obviously a woman who worked with her hands and didn't pamper them. She probably appreciated and needed the jeep Sharkey left her.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," Cliff said, "Let's have some decorum here. After all, this is a solemn occasion. Are we ready to continue?" His gaze settled accusingly on Rex.

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Rex leaned back and folded his arms.

  Ramona and Dodge reseated themselves, and there was a moment of silence during which Cliff fortified himself with Scotch again.

  Tory felt that the only one at this so-called solemn occasion showing any concrete signs of grief was Ramona. That is, if one could believe her tears were real.

  As Ramona resettled across the table from Tory, strain drew her mouth tight and her dark eyebrows into a wrinkled frown. If Tory cared a damn about any of this, she would have sworn the woman actually loved Sharkey.

  However, considering the way he had treated her own mother, Tory could care less about Sharkey Carsen, his life and times, or the women who loved him along the way. This attractive one across the table, so neatly dabbing her nose and eyes, was probably just one of many.

  "And to my little girl, Tory, my only offspring, I leave my third of the Sun Seekers Mining Company."

  "What?" The outburst came from Rex again. "Why would he do such a stupid thing? You'd think that at the very least he would divide his lousy third between his two working partners. Hell, Dodge and I have provided the work and money for this worthless mining company for years. Now he's left it to an estranged daughter he hadn't seen in twenty years! I'll be damned!"

  "I wasn't the estranged one," Tory said sourly. "He was. Anyway, I have no interest in owning any part of his hopeless mining company. I'd be glad to split it between you two."

  "That's more like it!"

  She leaned forward and posed commandingly, "What's the going price for gold mines these days? This one's up for sale."

  Rex's only response was a grunt.

  "Please, could we continue here, folks?" Cliff took another quick drink.

  "Sure, go ahead, Cliff," Dodge agreed, taking a drink of beer. "This is getting interesting."

  Cliff cleared his throat and went back to the will. "But the greatest part of my fortune is still in the mountain. You have to work for it. So I have drawn a map for my friends."

  There was another interruption as a rumble rose from everyone gathered around the table.

  "Treasure map? This is ridiculous!"
Rex shouted.

  "May I proceed?" Cliff gave them all a steel gaze that exacted immediate quiet. "Insofar as the map leads directly to the treasure of the Dragoons, it has been torn in two. The left part is here, at this time to be entrusted to my daughter, Tory." Cliff waved a small piece of paper containing strange markings. "The right side rests in a tin box beneath the skull de la vaca at the sight of the secret spring."

  "What the hell is this?" Rex fumed. "What secret spring? Beneath a cow's skull? My God, there must be hundreds in that godforsaken area!"

  Ramona turned on him angrily. "This should perk up your selfish ears, Rex. If it has to do with money, you're always interested." Then she looked at Dodge. "I know where the secret spring is. It's an underground water supply beneath a hieroglyphic Sharkey and I found one time. It's completely protected by an overhanging rock. Because of its location, the original colors are vivid, and the drawings are unmarred by graffiti. In fact, you can only see it if you lie on your back and scoot under it. That's when you can hear the underground spring. Sharkey called it a secret spring. It probably sustained a small civilization in the area a thousand years ago and ran above ground."

  "Could you find it again?" Dodge asked.

  "Of course. I have it documented. That was what I did while Sharkey hunted for gold. I hunted and documented lost Indian drawings in that area."

  "Did you know about this map?"

  She shook her head indifferently. "I knew he had something, but he never mentioned it. And I never asked."

  "Then how do we know he's telling the truth about the gold?" Rex countered.

  "We don't," reasoned Dodge. "We'll have to find out for ourselves. By searching for it."

  "Let's continue with the will, folks," Cliff said. "This map contains instructions for finding the treasure. Those of you who travel the trail past where Coronado's Peak can be clearly seen will share the wealth. The greatest reward of all rests at Pyramid. And that's where I want my ashes tossed to the sun." Cliff paused and looked up. "That's all, folks. The strange last words of Sharkey Carsen."

  There was a moment of awkward silence, not particularly in reverence but from the tension created by the promise of Sharkey's will. Gold!