Mountain Moonlight

by Jane Toombs

  MOUNTAIN MOONLIGHT

  By

  Jane Toombs

  ISBN: 978-1-927476-56-7

  Books We Love Ltd.

  (Electronic Book Publishers)

  192 Lakeside Greens Drive

  Chestermere, Alberta, T1X 1C2

  Canada

  Copyright 2012 by Jane Toombs

  Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2012

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Chapter 1

  "Apache Junction," Davis said as Vala stopped the rental car in front of a store advertising camping equipment. "That's a really cool name for a town, Mom."

  Seeing his enthusiasm made her almost forget the hassle to get here--how she'd argued and pleaded for ten days off so they could fly to Arizona after the Christmas holidays, which she already knew she couldn't take off. Davis would have to miss a week or so of school, but that couldn't be helped. Finally her employer had rather begrudgingly given her the seven vacation days she had coming plus another three days leave of absence.

  She was grateful she hadn't been fired. Heaven knows she needed the job. Since Neal's new wife had blessed him with a son last May, he tended to be careless about his child-support payments for Davis. He was equally careless about keeping in touch with his first-born son. Or maybe heartless was the right word.

  Davis tugged at her arm. "Look!" He pointed. "That's it, that's Superstition Mountain."

  She stared at the towering mass of rock--volcanic, she'd read somewhere--off to the northeast. It wasn't her first view of the mountain because she'd lived in Phoenix when she was young. Her thought now was the same as she'd had back then--Superstition Mountain didn't look real, thrusting up forbiddingly like it did in the middle of this flat land.

  "I'm glad we came," Davis said, his gaze fixed on the mountain. "Really, really glad."

  So was she. Davis probably believed he'd convinced her to make the trip because of his earnest arguments about how finding the treasure was going to make up for having to spend a lot of money to get to Arizona. She didn't intend to admit to her son that she was willing to do anything to keep the bright glow of enthusiasm in his eyes. Before John Mokesh had given him the old deer skin map, Davis hadn't been interested in anything. Even his Christmas computer game, one he wanted, failed to fill the bill.

  Poor Mr. Mokesh had died in his sleep the night after he'd presented Davis with the map. To her surprise, her son had accepted the old man's death without excessive grief, saying, "Mokesh told me it was his time to die. That's why he gave me his treasure map."

  "Mom, you're lollygagging," Davis said. The word came from her father and probably from his father, but it had caught Davis's attention and he liked to use it.

  "I was just thinking," she said.

  He grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the store entrance. Once inside, Vala told the clerk, a tanned, healthy-looking woman with a long braid down her back, that she and her son planned to make a trip into the Superstitions. "But I don't know much about camping," she admitted, "and so I haven't the faintest idea what we'll need."

  The clerk's eyebrows raised. "You're planning to trek into the Superstitions without knowing anything about camping? I hate to rain on your parade but that is not a good idea. Not without a guide. That mountain isn't greenhorn-friendly. Fact is, Superstition Mountain can't be called friendly to anyone."

  "A guide?" Vala repeated. "How do I go about finding one?" She hadn't planned on any extra expenses but maybe guides took credit cards.

  "We got a list posted." The woman jerked a thumb toward a bulletin board near the front of the store. "Names and phone numbers. We don't guarantee any of the guides but, as far as we've heard, they're all able to bring you out of the Superstitions in almost as good a shape as you were when you went in. Any one of them can tell you what you need to buy and we'll be more than glad to sell you whatever they recommend."

  Thanking her, Vala went to take a look at the list while Davis roamed through the store, examining the camping gear. The third name on the guide list was crossed off. Perversely, she wondered why, leaning closer to see if she could make out the letters beneath the heavy dark line. Was it Bruce something? Or Brian? No, that was an "a" and then an "m" after the Br. She gasped, staring at the paper in disbelief. Bram! Was it possible? The last name certainly looked like Hunter.

  Turning toward the clerk, she called, "What about this Bram Hunter? Why is he crossed off?"

  The woman shrugged. "That's Bram for you. He only works when he feels like it."

  Glancing at the list again, Vala took a pen from her bag and squinted at the paper as she wrote down the barely legible phone number, all the time telling herself it was a waste of time. Bram had taken his name off the list, so why call him? She already knew he wasn't available as a guide and if she made the call for old time's sake, he probably wouldn't remember her anyway. Why should he? She'd left Phoenix with her family when she was sixteen and, at that age, she'd been a bookish, mousy, overly shy girl.

  He might not remember her but she'd never quite forgotten him. At eighteen Bram Hunter was the most devastatingly handsome boy in the school with just enough of a shadowed reputation to intrigue every girl she knew. Including her. Her mother, unlike the mothers of her friends, had never bothered to warn her to steer clear of Bram Hunter, believing Vala was too shy to speak to any boy. Her mother had been right--in a way. But there were some things her mother never found out.

  Is it possible Bram recalls that night with the same awful clarity that I do? Vala wondered.

  Bram Hunter lounged on his terrace, gazing at Camelback Mountain, absently stroking Sheba, the Siamese draped across his lap. The day was warm and sunny, no more than Phoenix deserved after a week of rain. He hoped the good weather held until Friday when he'd be leaving for the Caribbean.

  A squeak from the depths of the house roused the Siamese and she leaped off his lap to hurry inside to her five tiny kittens.

  Motherhood had certainly changed Sheba's personality-- tied to her kittens, she'd actually become a worrier. He hoped she'd regain her zany, carefree attitude once her brood was old enough to leave for homes of their own. He'd made mistakes in his life but luckily none of them had been the mistake of tying himself down to a wife and family.

  Marriage had never been on his agenda. He yawned and settled back on the lounge. In less than a week he'd be scuba-diving off St. Amaris, one of the islands the tourists hadn't yet found. He hated crowds. He wouldn't mind a stray blonde or two to spice up the night life, though, the kind of woman who wasn't looking for any real involvement, just a few laughs. He smiled and closed his eyes.

  The phone rang, jolting him. Muttering a curse, he rose and padded into the house, aware he'd left the answering machine turned off.

  "Hunter," he growled into the phone.

  "Uh, hello," a woman said. "This is Bram Hunter, isn't it?" He didn't recognize her voice.

  He grunted an assent. When she didn't immediately continue, he said impatiently, "What was it you wanted?"

  "I was wondering if you--that is, do you remember me?" Bram rolled his eyes. Guessing games. He hated cutesy. "How the hell do I know?"

  There was a pause and then she said, "I'm Vala Channing."

  Vala. For a long moment he forgot to breathe. She was the last person in the world he'd ever expected to hear from. "Yes," he said finally. "I remember you."

  "I wasn't sure you would. I'm in Apac
he Junction and I happened to see your name on a guide list."

  He frowned. "I thought I took my name off that list." "Well, it was crossed off."

  After another pause, he said, "Are you living in Arizona now?"

  "No. Davis and I--he's my son--are just visiting here."

  So she was married. "Your husband's not with you?"

  "I'm divorced."

  I'm, not we're. Most people said we're divorced. Was that significant? Bram shook his head. Why should he care how she worded it?

  "I was wondering," she added, then paused again. Evidently Vala hadn't conquered her shyness.

  "What were you wondering?" he asked.

  "Well, I know you're a guide. Would you be willing to tell me something about Superstition Mountain? Davis and I are planning to hike in there and I'm not much of a camper."

  Bram scowled and his annoyance showed in his voice.

  "The Superstitions are no place for amateur campers."

  "I've already been told that. I was hoping you'd give me a few pointers."

  Her persistence reminded him of another characteristic of Vala's--she was shy but stubborn. What the hell, he had time to spend an hour or so talking to her--it would take at least that long, he supposed, to convince her to try camping somewhere else. Besides, he was sort of curious to see what she looked like after fifteen years.

  That didn't mean he was going to ask her into his home. Very few people even knew where he lived, much less got invited to visit. "You're in Apache Junction?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "There's a cafe in town called Auntie Mame's. I'll meet you there in about forty-five minutes, okay?"

  After hanging up, he didn't move for a minute or two. Vala Channing. At sixteen she'd been slender and fair-haired. Though not exactly pretty, there'd been something about her that caught his attention--maybe the somewhat exotic upward tilt to her blue eyes, eyes that reminded him of a spring sky, clear and unclouded. Or maybe the hesitant smile that lit her face on all-too-rare occasions.

  It wasn't that he'd thought of her often over the years, because he hadn't. But, somehow, that one night they'd been together stuck in his memory with the tenacity of a cactus spine. And equally barbed.

  In the booth at Auntie Mame's, Davis slurped the last of his chocolate shake through the straw and then eased back in his seat. "I still don't see why we can't just buy a tent and stuff and start off," he said. "We've got a map, haven't we?"

  "Superstition Mountain isn't like the Catskills back home," Vala said. "I want Mr. Hunter's advice before we go any farther." What she'd actually hoped was that, once Bram recognized her name, he might offer to be their guide even though he'd taken his name off the list.

  His gruffness on the phone had convinced her that would never come to pass. In fact, after his go-away-and-don't- bother-me manner, she was surprised he'd even agreed to meet her here--a meeting she was looking forward to with both anticipation and trepidation. She touched her hair with nervous fingers and ran her tongue over her lips. Did she have time to go to the ladies room to check her lipstick again? Probably not, but there ought to be a mirror somewhere in her shoulder bag....

  "Is that him?" Davis asked.

  Vala stopped burrowing in her bag and glanced at the tall, dark-haired man striding toward their booth, suddenly finding she hardly had enough breath to say, "Yes," to Davis.

  He stopped at the booth, his gaze holding hers for a long moment. "Vala," he said, nodding. Then he turned to look at her son. "I'm Bram Hunter," he said, "Do you mind if I sit next to you, Davis?"

  "I guess not," Davis mumbled, sliding over to make room. Bram eased onto the seat, said, "Coffee," to the approaching waitress and looked at Vala again. "Why the Superstitions?" he asked.

  "It's a long story. Back in Westchester, where we live, Davis inherited a map from an old Apache."

  "Ndee," Davis said almost inaudibly without looking at either of them.

  Bram glanced at him. "Tell me about the man who gave you the map," he said to the boy.

  "His name was Mokesh and he's dead." Davis ran the words together as though getting them out fast so he could withdraw into silence once again.

  "He was Ndee?" Bram persisted.

  Vala noted a glimmer of interest lighten her son's sullen face. "Mokesh said Apache was an enemy word."

  "Do you know what Ndee means?" Bram asked.

  Davis nodded. "The Dream People. I know lots about them. Like how their Thunder God makes Superstition Mountain his home. And about Swift Wind. And how the buffalo came to the Ndee."

  Vala was amazed. Davis rarely spoke more than a word or two to strangers and then only if she insisted.

  "Mokesh must have been a good friend of yours," Bram said.

  "He was my best friend. And I was his. That's why he gave me the map when he knew it was his time to die."

  "If you want to show it to me, I'd like to see the map."

  "Sure. I got it right here in my pack." Davis unzipped the pack and removed the rolled deer skin wrapped in plastic. The waitress set Bram's coffee in front of him and he pushed it across the table toward Vala, shoving the other dishes aside, too, to make room to spread out the deer skin map. His attention was fixed on Davis, not once did he look at Vala.

  Both he and Davis bent over the map, Davis pointing to the various strange and primitive markings and telling Bram what Mokesh had said about them. "He told me when I came to the X, I'd find my heart's desire. So then I knew it was a treasure map."

  "Heart's desire," Bram repeated. "Mokesh didn't say treasure?"

  Davis shook his head. "But what else could he mean?"

  They've both forgotten me, Vala thought. I might as well not be here in the booth. Or even the cafe. Despite being pleased that Davis had taken to Bram, it miffed her a little to be so totally ignored.

  "Mom said I ought to make a paper copy of the map on account of the deer skin's so old and cracked and all," Davis said, "so I did." He pulled the copy from his pack and handed it to Bram.

  After comparing the copy to the original, Bram nodded. "Good job."

  "I tried to be careful." Davis's pleasure at the praise showed in his voice.

  It occurred to Vala that she had never once, in the years before or after their divorce, heard Neal praise his son. Quite the opposite. Neal always seemed to be pointing up Davis's flaws. Two left feet. All thumbs. A snail could run faster. Couldn't throw a ball straight if your life depended on it. The name of the game is to hit the ball. Neal blamed her. She couldn't count the times he'd said so, not caring whether Davis heard or not. Look at him-- short and skinny, takes after your side of the family, even to the glasses, just like your old man.

  It was true her father wore glasses. Unfortunately for Davis, her bookish father was also disappointed in the boy because he wasn't much of a reader.

  "So, are you going to help us find the treasure, Mr. Hunter?" Davis asked, startling Vala. "Are you going to be our guide?"

  She hadn't thought to caution her son not to mention guiding because she hadn't dreamed Davis would come far enough out of his shell to say any more than he had to-- certainly not to a stranger. She tensed, waiting for Bram's terse refusal--after all, he had crossed his name off the list.

  Bram didn't reply immediately. Instead, he helped Davis roll up the deer skin. "I don't know if I can," he said at last, speaking to the boy rather than to Vala. "I've made plans that I'm not sure I can change."

  He pulled a couple of bills from his pocket and jerked his head toward the electronic game at the back of the cafe. "Why don't you try your luck at zapping space monsters--my treat--while I discuss things with your mother?"

  Davis hesitated but when Vala didn't say anything, he took the money Bram offered, saying, "Okay. Thanks."

  Both she and Bram watched him until he got the bills changed, reached the machine and fed in the money. When the beeps and whizzes and other exotic noises began, Bram abruptly faced her.

  "What in hell are you thinking of,
letting your son believe in that map?" he demanded. "Or do you believe it in, too?" His tone implied that only a child or a fool would. Startled at his attack, Vala sat back and crossed her arms over her breasts. "I'm not saying the map will lead to treasure. But you must admit it is old. Like John Mokesh-- he was in his nineties. And he was also an Apache. If anyone knew Superstition Mountain in the past, the Apache did."

  Bram scowled. "I don't doubt this Mokesh was old but that doesn't mean the map is. Faking age with deer skin or paper isn't difficult. Do you have any idea how many different bogus maps of the Old Dutchman Mine are in circulation? I've personally seen at least twenty variations and God only knows how many copies of each variation have been circulated since Jacob Walz died in 1891. Walz was the old Dutchman, in case you don't remember."

  "I never heard of Jacob Walz. Or the Old Dutchman Mine," she said indignantly. "What does that have to do with the map Mr. Mokesh gave my son?"

  "Maps purporting to lead the way to treasure somewhere in the Superstitions are a dime a dozen. And not one of them worth a damn. Apparently people never ask themselves why, if the map leads to a gold mine, the person who sold it to them didn't use the map to find the gold himself. You're setting Davis up for a mighty big disappointment. Do you think that's fair?"

  She glared at him. "You have no right to criticize what I'm doing. Especially when you haven't a clue as to the circumstances."

  He glared right back at her. "What are the circumstances that would lead a mother to promise her son something she can't deliver?"

  "I'm not promising Davis anything!" she cried, so furious at Bram's presumption that she forgot to be careful about what she said. "All I want is for him to be himself again. Except for John Mokesh, the map is the first thing my son has taken any real interest in for well over a year. He believes in that map. Do you expect me to tell him it's a fake and then watch him slump back into apathy? Well, I'm damn well not going to!"

  "Keep your voice down," Bram warned, increasing her annoyance even though she knew he was right. She didn't care about the others in the cafe but Davis mustn't hear any of this.