"First, us," he promised with a chuckle low in his chest, kissing her again.
"Dodge . . ." she gasped, giggling.
"Yes, Tory." He rolled her over and murmured between kisses, "I've never seen anyone like you, fancy pants. Never had anyone like you. Maybe you're my type, after all."
"I confess I always did like cowboys," she said breathlessly.
"I want to make love to you in the daylight and see your responses."
She shivered. Then she showed him once again exactly how much she liked this cowboy—from the tips of his toes to his earlobes, and everywhere in between.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tory and Dodge spent the day doing what was required before their trip up the mountain tomorrow. She was feeling especially lighthearted, and he responded in kind. They behaved like two teens, teasing and laughing their way through each chore, sharing the jobs and the fun. For lunch, they munched foot-long hotdogs and double-dip chocolate fudge ice cream cones.
"If I gain weight eating all this junk," she warned, pausing to flick a large chocolate chip into her mouth with her tongue, "I'll never forgive you."
"Don't worry," he told her. "We'll work it off with exercises of passion. But if that doesn't do the trick, there're always your barbells. You can exercise while I watch and count."
She pinched his waist, but all she grabbed was a handful of lean, trim masculinity. Tory had never felt younger and happier than she did with Dodge. He allowed her to laugh and have fun and forget her responsibilities for a little while. And she loved the freedom.
While Dodge went to report his missing weapon, Tory called home from a nearby phone booth.
"Megan, how are things going?"
"Tory! I can't wait until you get here! When are you coming home?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing much. I have the shop under control. It's, well, you know, the creditors. Mr. Koch, of Delta Products Unlimited, called to say if we didn't pay for that line of coordinated sportswear soon, his lawyer would be in touch."
"Now, Megan, don't despair," Tory said soothingly. "I explained everything to him before I left. He'll just have to wait."
"Well, he's not the only one, Tory."
"Who else?" Tory sighed.
"You know those fake leather pants ..."
"How well are they selling, Megan?"
"Not very. I haven't sold a one in ten days."
"Okay, send the whole shipment back."
"But, Tory—"
"Do as I say," Tory instructed firmly. "Explain the situation. Tell them to accept the returns or lose money. Remind them they can't get blood out of a turnip!"
"Okay." Megan's voice quivered tentatively. "When are you coming back, Tory?"
"Looks like it'll be a while, Megan." Tory paused and thought of her night with Dodge and wished—suddenly—that she never had to go back. But, of course, she did. "Maybe in a few weeks."
"Weeks?" Megan repeated shrilly.
"Now, hold on," Tory cautioned. "When I return, we'll be able to pay off everybody. Plus a bonus for you, Megan."
"What? You mean the gold mine has panned out, so to speak?"
"I think it's going to."
"You think? Don't you know? What are you up to, Tory?"
"Can't tell you everything, Megan. I'll be back in touch, so don't bother calling the motel number I gave you. I'm not there anymore."
"Then where are you staying?"
"I'll call you next chance I get."
"Tory, this isn't like you at all. You're sounding a little strange. Have you gone Wild West?"
"Don't worry about me, Megan. Everything's fine." Tory spotted Dodge and waved. "Got to go now. Keep up the good job. You're doing just great, Megan. Bye."
"Tory, wait—" The phone went dead.
Tory hurried back to the Blazer to wait for Dodge.
By noon the next day, Dodge's gleaming red and black Blazer was tackling the rugged route into the heart of the Dragoon Mountains. They rode in relaxed silence as Dodge concentrated on driving the rutted unpaved road.
Tory thought about how extremely happy and relaxed she felt, whether in Dodge's arms, like during the last two nights, or merely sitting beside him on the way to an unusual adventure. Just being with him set her heart soaring and her spirits aglow.
Furthest from her mind was going back home to the shop in L.A. Right now, she didn't want to think of it and all the debts and problems with the business she'd have to face when she arrived. She couldn't imagine saying good-bye to Dodge. Why, they'd just begun. Being with him was heaven! She smiled contentedly to herself. She felt like a girl with a first crush ... in love. Oh, no, not really love . . . Couldn't be this soon. Maybe she'd gone Wild West, after all.
"Can I interrupt?"
"Of course," she said softly, smiling across at him.
"You seemed a million miles away."
"Not quite."
"Thinking about home? Your business."
She nodded, and strangely, he didn't respond.
"I thought you might like to see Coronado's route into America in the sixteenth century." Dodge pulled the Blazer to a halt and pointed out a marvelous vista that seemed to stretch forever. "Coronado's conquistadors marched up through this valley looking for the Seven Cities of Cibola. When they reached the Zuni Indian village, up in New Mexico, they thought they'd found their treasure. Of course, the Indians had different ideas about the matter, and a major battle ensued."
"And I figured the old-time miners were the only ones who dared enter this wilderness."
"Far from it. Ancient Indians called Mimbres— and of course, Apaches like Geronimo and Cochise—used these mountains as their strongholds. The American miners came in the last hundred years or so looking for gold. Their stories fill volumes with tales of violence and bloody battles and hard-won success."
"My, my, I'm impressed. You're a regular history buff," she said.
He jerked the vehicle back into gear and they proceeded. "I don't often have such a captive audience."
"And one so ignorant of local history?"
"I'm trying to teach you about the real West, Miss Fancy Pants. Since you're Sharkey Carsen's daughter, you have quite a legacy to learn. He was a regular legend in his own time."
"What about you, Dodge? Are you a legend?"
"Naw," he said, grinning. "I'm just a simple old sun seeker, like dozens of men before me."
"Just men? No women sun seekers?"
"Oh, a few, I guess. But they usually came because of some man."
She settled back against the seat and studied the changes in foliage as they climbed deeper into the mountain's heart. "I guess I am, too," she admitted softly, "if you consider Sharkey."
Dodge smiled at her. "Because of him, you come by gold fever naturally. It's in your blood."
Tory pondered what Dodge had said about the bloody history in the search for gold. "From all the old tales, it seems that many—and we'll never know how many unknown ones—lost their lives searching for gold around here."
"You're right. We don't have records of them all. Sad, isn't it, to think of someone coming out West to seek his fortune and never being heard from again?"
"Kind of like Sharkey," she mused. "How . . . how did my father die, Dodge?"
"Accident. He fell off his mule and plunged to the bottom of a slate cliff. They found him there."
"How could he just fall off the mule he was riding?"
"Who knows? He was alone. But the mule he'd rented from Yazzie wandered back down the mountain and ended up unharmed back at the corral."
"You sure it was an accident?"
Dodge nodded tightly. "There wasn't much of an investigation. It was assumed that he suffered a heart attack and couldn't prevent the fall."
"Assumed, huh? Nothing proved? Autopsy?"
He shook his head. "What are you getting at, Tory?"
"Is it possible that my father was killed since he knew about this gold?"
Dodge sighe
d heavily. "Anything's possible out here, Tory. But I doubt it. Look, don't get started on something in the past like that. Sharkey's cause of death has been settled by the coroner's report. You probably received a copy."
"Was it settled to everyone's satisfaction?"
"Yes."
"To yours, Dodge?"
"Yes! Now, please, Tory—"
The subject of the conversation and Dodge's tight-lipped reaction put a damper on the light mood between them, and they continued in strained silence.
An hour and a half later, Dodge pulled off the road and stopped in a small clearing near some pines. "Well, we're here."
They had traveled from the cactus-growing desert floor of Tombstone through scrub brush to sparse pines. Yazzie's cabin was a rough-hewn building, half rock, half logs, in a small stand of pines. Behind it was an ocotillo fence corralling a dozen or so mules.
"Now, who is Yazzie, exactly?" Tory asked as she mentally noted the rugged terrain. "And why are we meeting the others here?"
"Yazzie's a man of the mountain, has always lived here, as far as I know. This is a good starting place, where trekkers usually converge for food and drink. Plus, we'll rent our mules from him and take him along as guide and cook."
Tory frowned. "Do we have to go with him?"
"If you're worried about sharing the diggings with him, don't be. We need his expertise. There have been whole teams of people lost forever in these mountains. Believe me, he'll be worth every cent we have to share with him."
"Sharing is not my worry, Dodge."
"Then what?"
"I don't know. Just a feeling, I guess. You were the one wanting to keep this excursion quiet in Tombstone, and now you're including someone else. I don't understand."
He clasped her hand and squeezed. "It'll be okay, Tory. Yazzie has always been a part of these mountains. Sharkey and I always rented our mules from him. He isn't exactly a stranger."
"Did you and Sharkey always take him along with you?"
He smiled at her perception. "Nope. But this is different. We have a group of people who are unfamiliar with conditions on the mountain, including you, my dear. Also, there's Rex. Even though he put money into the mining company, he's hardly ever been up here. Plus, we're searching for specific landmarks that I figure only Yazzie knows."
She nodded in silent agreement and looked over Yazzie's small, dilapidated spread. "What does he do up here? Just rent mules? How does he live?"
"Well, obviously it doesn't take much for him. I think he occasionally brings in a little gold dust or a few turquoise stones in exchange for bread and bacon."
"And he lives up here all alone?"
"Yep. Had an Indian wife, but she died years ago. According to Sharkey, Yazzie's mother was an Apache woman who ran off with a miner from Yuma. Because of his split heritage, Yazzie never really belonged anywhere. He's been here as long as anyone can remember."
She shook her head slowly. "It's like a story out of an old movie."
Dodge glanced at her with a curious grin. "This is the Old West, Tory. Some things are slow to change."
"So I see," she murmured, thinking her friends in Los Angeles wouldn't believe this when she got back home.
Dodge sensed her reluctance and knew he had to convince her it was okay. "Tory, you realize that Yazzie and Ramona searched for Sharkey together. And when they discovered him at the bottom of the ravine, they brought his body into town. Yazzie was a great help to her."
"Yes, I know about that."
"It'll be okay—believe me."
"I ... I trust you, Dodge." Her eyes met his, and she silently pledged her trust in his instincts. What else could she do?
Yazzie was an enigma from another era. His Indian heritage was blatantly evident in his appearance. His long black hair was bound by a red bandana, his skin was brown and leathery, his eyes were sharp and black above high cheekbones, and his gait was flawed by a slight limp. His tan pants were attached to black suspenders, and heavy work boots, not cowboy boots, were laced up to his calves. Tory stared in amazement at the ageless man who seemed to have stepped off the silver screen at the height of the cowboy-and-Indian movie craze.
"Yazzie, this is Sharkey's daughter, Tory Talbot."
The mountain man gave her a nodding glance, and Tory shuffled from foot to foot, trying to decide whether to extend her hand. She smiled tightly and folded her arms instead. There was something standoffish about him that thwarted any warmth.
Dodge explained their situation and how they needed his help going up the mountain. Could they leave as soon as tomorrow?
Tory held her breath. She could just see them hanging around this godforsaken place for days waiting on this old man to agree with their plan.
He studied Dodge's proposal for a moment, then spit out his abrupt reply. "Yep."
Tory's head shot up. This was his answer? A simple, short 'Yep'? No comments, no questions, no instructions regarding his part in the excursion? Dodge and Tory exchanged glances as the mountain man wheeled around and headed for the corral.
Dodge followed him, recounting the list of supplies they'd brought. Tory let the two men go alone. No one had included her in these negotiations, anyway. She was just a pilgrim on one of the strangest journeys she'd ever undertaken. An adventure ... to seek the sun. She walked around to the front of the log cabin and perched on a downed tree trunk in the yard. Her view took in a magnificent stretch of the desert floor several thousand feet below.
Even though she'd spent her life denying him as her father, Sharkey Carsen was now influencing— actually dictating—her actions. His life affected hers far more than she cared to admit, more than she wanted. Was it selfishness driving her to continue on this strange trek, her greed for gold? Or, as she'd told herself a hundred times in the past few weeks, simply what he owed her?
If there really was gold up there, if they actually found it, if it were enough to split five ways, she could salvage Tall and Terrific. That was behind it all. She really needed the money to salvage the floundering business she and her mother had started.
After her mother's death, hospital bills compounded her already debt-ridden life. Then her personal grief directly affected her business, and the debts kept piling higher. Tory could only hope that Megan would hold on and keep the shop open until she returned. And she could only pray to return with a bounty of gold that would save everything. It was a dream, perhaps too great.
Damn! Why couldn't Sharkey have died and left her a normal inheritance? A piece of property to sell or a chunk of money lying dormant in a savings account somewhere?
There was only one flaw in her plan to leave as soon as she got her inheritance. Dodge Callahan. It wasn't love, she told herself. It was merely lust. In a weak moment, she had succumbed to her natural instincts with the man, and simply given in to her own erotic desires.
He was a man like none she'd ever met, a man who obviously could lead her to hell and back and apparently, she'd follow willingly. There's what she was doing up here. Trusting a man she barely knew and following an untrustworthy father.
Dodge was different from any man she'd ever known. A rakishly handsome, extremely virile man in whose arms she felt safe and secure. And he had loved her like none other ever had, including the man she'd married.
Love? There was that word again. Was it a word she could use for any part of their relationship? They barely knew each other, yet their loving— their sexual encounters—had been intense and wild and . . . yes, wonderful.
Tory was drawn back to Yazzie's cabin in the woods by the sound of a Jeep horn and a man's shout. She looked around to see Rex and Ramona climbing from an ancient, well-worn vehicle, Ramona's inheritance from Sharkey.
Determined to make the most of the situation, Tory waved and started walking toward them. Well, the sun seekers had assembled. Tomorrow would find them heading for that elusive gold stuff. And maybe—just maybe—finding it!
That night, Yazzie prepared a fabulous venison stew for
supper, accompanied by robust sourdough biscuits and stout black coffee. Tory insisted on fixing a simple salad of lettuce, tomatoes, and celery. It would be their last fresh vegetables for a while. Soon they would be relegated to eating canned items cooked in a cast-iron pot over an open fire, like the miners of a bygone era.
After eating, they sipped more coffee and ate a chocolate cake Dodge had purchased from a bakery in Sierra Vista.
"Good idea, Dodge," Rex said between bites. "This is a great cake."
"And not a calorie in the whole thing," Tory muttered with an accusing stare at Dodge. Then she took another big bite of the chocolate cake with its double-fudge icing.
Dodge grinned and drawled, "I figured that even though Yazzie is a pretty good camp cook, we wouldn't be getting any special treats like chocolate cake on this trip."
"You figured right," Yazzie commented shortly. The man obviously had no sense of humor. "On the trail, I'll stick to beans, bacon, and biscuits. Gets mighty tiresome, but it'll keep us going."
"How long do you think it'll take us to get to this place, Yazzie?" Rex asked.
"What place is that?"
"Our destination, the lost city of gold."
"There's no gold," Yazzie muttered. "Old Sharkey knew it. I think he's playing a trick on all of you."
"That's not so, Yazzie!" Ramona exclaimed. "You and I both saw—"
"Don't talk about no dead man, Ramona," Yazzie admonished her. "It'll bring us bad luck."
She stood up and shook her finger at the mountain man. "You know as well as I do there's gold up there. And Sharkey must have found it."
"Where?" Yazzie countered. "Courtland? Galeyville? Paradise? They're empty ghost towns. Nothing there but weeds and broken walls. No gold anymore. It's all gone."
"Pyramid's the name of the ghost town Sharkey mentioned in the will," Rex said. "Where's Pyramid? How far from here?"
Yazzie laughed, a rude, cackling sound. "Pyramid? There's nothing at all left of that one. Nobody ever found it again. Maybe it never was there."
"Yazzie," Dodge said, "you sound like you don't want to make this trip. What's wrong with checking out this lost city? You aren't afraid, are you?"
Callahan's Gold (Southwest Desert Series Book 3) Page 8
