Mountain Moonlight

by Jane Toombs

  Bram put his arms on the table and leaned toward her. "What are you going to do, then?"

  "Follow the map into the Superstitions," she snapped. "That's what Davis wants and so that's what we'll do."

  Bram shook his head. "I see you're still as stubborn as ever."

  She unfolded her arms and pushed his cup of coffee toward him. "I'm not stubborn, just determined to help my son in any way I can."

  He ignored the coffee. "But will this be a help in the long run?"

  Vala didn't answer immediately. "I can't deal with long range planning at the moment," she said finally. "I can only deal with today. I'm sorry to have bothered you--this is no concern of yours."

  Belatedly realizing he probably was married, with children of his own, she added, "I guess I was so wound up in my own problems that I forgot everything else. I should have realized you'd have plans, this being a family time of year and all."

  He half-smiled. "I'm one up on you--I didn't make the mistake of getting married. Apparently it was a mistake?" Vala wasn't accustomed to sharing her private life with anyone but since he already knew she was divorced, why not admit the truth? It wasn't as though she was confessing her innermost secrets to a total stranger.

  "A mistake, yes. Maybe not the worst I've ever made but right up there near the top. But some good came of it-- Davis."

  "I like him." Surprise tinged Bram's words, whether because of the feeling or because he'd admitted to it, she wasn't sure.

  She smiled, her anger at him gone. "So do I."

  He smiled back and, for a moment, she felt something pass between them and go tingling along her nerves, making her feel more alive than she had in years. How could she have forgotten how dark his eyes were, or how he'd once made her feel when she'd gazed into them? She'd best remember that looking into Bram's eyes could prove to be a dangerous occupation.

  "Strange, you showing up in town," he said.

  "Not any stranger than me seeing your name on that guide list," she countered.

  "Next time I'll have to remember to use a darker pen when I cross it out."

  His words made the moment of awareness vanish as if it had never been.

  Vala didn't realize the electronic noises had ceased until Davis appeared at the booth and Bram slid over to make room.

  "How'd you do?" Bram asked.

  Davis shrugged. "So-so." He glanced at Vala, then back at Bram. "Did you decide?" he asked.

  "You have to answer a question of mine first," Bram said. "Have you ever ridden a horse?"

  "Sure," Davis said. "I learned two years ago at camp and I go to the same place every summer so I get to practice."

  Bram looked at Vala. "You?"

  Since she'd figured he'd ask her next, she'd already made up her mind what she had to do. She nodded, avoiding Davis's eye.

  "In that case," Bram said, "since I couldn't talk your mother out of the camping trip, it looks like it's up to me to keep you two greenhorns out of trouble."

  "Yay!" Davis cried. "Can we start off right now?"

  "Tomorrow morning early. You two have to get equipped first and I have to arrange for the horses and collect my own gear."

  And cancel your plans, Vala thought, wondering what Bram was giving up to be their guide. After his lecture to her about fake maps, she was amazed he'd changed his mind and agreed to take them. Her glow of happiness was, she assured herself, for Davis's sake.

  Once he'd finished supervising her purchases at the camping store, Bram left them, saying he'd come by their motel at six the next morning so they could follow him to the place where the horses were.

  "Be ready to roll," he warned.

  "We will," Davis promised fervently.

  He was quiet on the ride back to the motel and so was she, going over and over in her mind that strange moment or two of silent communication between her and Bram. What did it mean? She took a deep breath and shook her head. Never mind what it meant, she had no intention of getting involved with any man. And certainly not Bram Hunter.

  After they reached the motel and had carried all their purchases into their room, Davis said, "I didn't want to say anything before in case Mr. Hunter might change his mind. But, Mom, you lied to him."

  Vala nodded. "I know. I suppose I ought to be sorry. It was in a good cause, though."

  "He'll find out real soon," Davis warned her.

  "Maybe not. At least not right away. After all, what's so difficult about riding a horse?"

  Davis rolled his eyes. "Whoa. I can't believe you said that. You don't even know how to get on a horse."

  "So you'll teach me how before tomorrow. I'm a quick study."

  "I can tell you how to mount a horse," he said, "but there's a lot more to it than that. "Mom, you're gonna be really, really sorry."

  Chapter 2

  The wariness in the kid's eyes had decided him, Bram thought as he tucked his denim shirt into his jeans in the early morning darkness. Though Davis, fair-haired and blue-eyed, didn't look anything like the young boy Bram had once been, he'd recognized a kindred spirit, a lonely, confused youngster on his way to becoming embittered.

  Bram knew the feeling well and he meant to do his damnedest to make an adventure out of this trip into the Superstitions. Since talking with Vala and her son had convinced him that Davis was determined to believe in the fake deer skin map, he'd try to give the boy some excitement to make up for the disappointment that was bound to come when Davis discovered the old Apache's gift didn't point the way to a treasure lode.

  Ndee, not Apache, Davis was right. Not that it made a hell of a lot of difference.

  In any case, Bram wasn't giving up his long-planned trip to the Caribbean for Vala's sake. Not at all. It was for her son. No nine-year-old boy should have to feel rejected. Rejected. Bram gritted his teeth, reminded of what he'd long ago buried with the rest of his unhappy past.

  Vala obviously loved her son but what she'd told him, combined with what he'd seen in Davis's eyes, had echoed in Bram's heart. He knew from his own experience that the love of a mother never quite made up for an absent, uncaring father.

  If I was worth anything, he'd pay attention to me.

  Did those words haunt Davis as they had young Bram?

  I can't solve the problem, Bram told himself, but I can do my best to give Davis a slam-bang western adventure to take home with him.

  As for Vala--well, what about her? He'd be lying if he didn't admit she still appealed to him. Or that what had happened years ago didn't still rankle. Gentlemen never stooped to getting even, he reminded himself--but then no one had ever accused him of being a gentleman. He half-smiled, contemplating the enforced togetherness of a camping trip with pleasurable anticipation.

  All right, so he had more than one motive for agreeing to take mother and son into the mountains. So what? Both he and Vala were over thirty--God, where had the years gone--? And free of entanglements.

  He finished pulling on his boots and strode to the kitchen to get his wake-me-up slug of coffee before driving the pickup to the Apache Junction motel to pick up his two happy campers. He'd already told them they'd have breakfast at the horse ranch.

  His evaluation of Vala went up a notch when he found both her and her son ready to go. He had little patience with dawdlers. "Pancakes and sausage at Brenden's Bronco Corral," he told Davis.

  Davis glanced at his mother before saying, "There's a whole lot of cholesterol in sausages."

  "We'll work it off, I promise you," Bram assured him. "And while we're on the subject of food--" He paused to look at Vala before turning back to Davis--"everybody eats what the cook--that's me--packs in. The first complainer gets to take over the cooking."

  Vala lifted her hands. "Hey, I'm on vacation. You won't hear any complaints from me."

  "Me neither," Davis agreed, eyeing the pickup wistfully. "I found out in summer camp that cooking over a camp fire is hard."

  "Want to ride with me?" Bram asked him.

  "Okay, Mom?"


  Vala nodded and Davis wasted no time climbing into the cab of the truck.

  "You'll be following me on up the Apache Trail--that's Route 88--for about four miles," Bram told Vala. "You'll see a sign for Brenden's to the right. We'll turn off there."

  She nodded and got into her small rental car, packed with camping gear. As she pulled onto the highway after his truck, she tried not to think about what was to come after the pancakes and sausages at Brenden's. As the time crept closer to actually mounting a horse, she became more and more nervous.

  Before they went to bed last night, she'd picked Davis's brain for all the tips he could remember about riding and horses and discovered there was more to it than she'd imagined. You even had to get on the animal from a certain side.

  "You mean to tell me the horse will know the difference if I try to mount him from his right side instead of his left?" she'd asked. "Who made up these rules anyway?"

  "They told us at summer camp that in the olden days the knights used to carry their swords on their left side so it was easier for them to throw their right leg over the saddle first. I guess it just sort of became a tradition to train horses that way."

  "I'm never going to remember all this stuff," she muttered.

  "Don't sweat it, Mom," he'd advised finally. "Just remember that you and not the horse is in charge and you'll be okay."

  I shouldn't have any trouble with that, she thought now. I'm a human and humans are smarter than horses.

  All she had to do was get into the saddle without mishap and then her horse would follow the one ahead of him. Or so Davis had assured her. She ought to be able to manage that. In fact, she had to or she'd give herself away and Bram might well back out of the trip altogether. For Davis's sake, that mustn't happen.

  All of this was for Davis's sake. It really didn't make any difference that the idea of following the old map into the mountains had much more appeal to her ever since Bram had offered to guide them. Why shouldn't it? He was not only a camping expert but also someone she'd known in the past. Not a friend, exactly, but not a stranger either.

  Who knows, maybe they'd be friends by the time the trip was over. She found herself humming "Getting To Know You" and stopped abruptly. Getting to know Bram was not the reason she was on this journey.

  Though the sun wasn't up, to her right she could see the dark silhouette of Superstition Mountain against the lightening sky. On the flat land to the left, a lone saguaro cactus thrust up two giant arms as though welcoming her back to the country where she'd been born.

  Vala knew that Phoenix was a green oasis in the midst of dry country but she hadn't clearly remembered how desert-like the surroundings actually were. Not sand dune desert but arid country where little grew except cacti and small trees like the palo verde that could make do without much water. She'd grown accustomed to the greenery of the east coast but somehow this starkness seemed right to her, giving her a strange feeling she'd come home.

  Could this feeling have anything to do with seeing Bram Hunter again?

  Vala shook her head in denial. She'd already made one mistake in choosing a man; she had no intention of making another. Not that Bram had given her any reason to believe he wanted to be chosen! In fact, she'd gotten the impression he didn't think much of her.

  He'd made it very clear that in his opinion the map was a fake and he'd blamed her for encouraging her son to believe in a treasure. She was well aware Bram was guiding them only because he'd taken a liking to Davis and had come to the conclusion that nothing he said would prevent her from bringing her son into the Superstitions with or without a guide.

  I wouldn't want it any other way, she told herself firmly. Since Bram's not interested in me, I can relax and not worry about being more or less alone with him for the next week.

  In any case, the presence of a nine-year-old was a powerful deterrent to romance, even if this particular one, once he fell asleep, couldn't easily be roused by anything less than a twenty-gun salute. Besides, she didn't want a romance. Not now, and not with Bram Hunter.

  The sun was up by the time they reached Brenden's Bronco Corral--something out of a western movie. Davis was entranced, looking around excitedly as Mac Brenden greeted Bram with the ease of a long acquaintance, then sized up her and Davis. Davis seemed to pass muster but she thought Mac's shrewd blue eyes saw through her brave assertion that "any horse will do."

  Tense with foreboding, she could only make a pretense of enjoying the excellent pancakes and sizzling sausage. All too soon, the time came for her to actually get into--or was it onto?--the saddle of her mount.

  "Susie Q's a real easy-goer," Mac assured her. "Getting on a bit but that makes for a smart trail horse. You can't go wrong with old Susie."

  Her son and Bram were already mounted, Bram on a frisky chestnut gelding named Fremont and Davis on a much smaller gelding that Mac had called a Morgan. "Wish I had a dozen as dependable as Nate," he'd said. "You can't beat a Morgan for stamina combined with an even disposition."

  Taking a deep breath and reciting under her breath what her son had told her, Vala approached the mare. From the left. Standing even with the saddle, facing Susie Q, she took the reins into her left hand, then placed that hand firmly on the mare's neck and her right on the saddle horn. Relieved that Susie Q didn't move, she managed to get her left foot into the stirrup and tried her best to brace her knee against the horse. Now came the tricky part.

  Pushing with her right foot. She sprang up until she was standing in the stirrup. At this point she almost lost her balance but leaned forward in time to avoid a fall. She then swung her right leg over the saddle and there she was, sitting square in the saddle, on top of Susie Q.

  Flushed with triumph, she glanced around only to discover nobody was watching her. They'd all, even Davis, taken it for granted she could mount a horse. This is only the beginning, she reminded herself. Keep your mind on what to do next--heels down, hold the reins neither loose nor tight with your index finger between the two strips of leather. Don't ever hang onto the saddle horn.

  In addition to the three riding horses, Bram had arranged for a pack horse. Loaded with their gear, the pack horse followed Bram's Fremont, then came Nate with Davis.

  She and Susie Q brought up the rear.

  Good, she thought. If I make mistakes Bram won't be so likely to notice them.

  Davis had told her to lean slightly forward and move with the horse but she soon discovered that was easier said than done. Still, she wasn't too uncomfortable until they passed through the gates of the horse ranch and Bram increased Fremont's pace from a walk to what she thought might be a trot. Obediently, the other horses matched the leader's gait.

  No matter what she tried to do, she kept bouncing up and down in the saddle rather than moving with Susie Q. Though jarring, it didn't bother her too much. At first.

  The morning was cool enough to be coat weather, in her case a lined denim jacket. In addition she wore a broad- brimmed hat, jeans, and a pair of riding boots comfortable enough to hike in, boots that Bram had suggested she buy. Davis wore a similar outfit. Bram, she'd noticed, looked like a real honest-to-goodness cowboy.

  The horses followed a trail toward Superstition Mountain, passing between clumps of ocotillo--which she seemed to recall was a shrub, not a cactus, never mind that it looked like cactus--and various large round cacti that were all leaning toward the southwest. Beyond the vegetation close to the trail were various other unfriendly-looking plants whose wicked spines and spikes made her want to grab hold of the saddle horn just in case Susie Q took a notion to buck and send her flying head over teakettle. She resisted the temptation, reminding herself that the mare was not only a tried and true trail horse but seemed to have a placid disposition as well.

  The Superstitions loomed ahead, far more rugged- looking at close range than from the highway. Near the topmost peaks, the sun glinted off a broad white streak running across the otherwise reddish brown rocks making up the mountain. Unlike New York's Catskil
ls, Superstition Mountain had no foothills, it rose straight up. Daunted and awed by the forbidding crags facing her, she realized how foolish she'd been to even think of tackling this mountain without a guide.

  By the time the horses entered the mountains via a cobble-strewn wash and began to pick their way up a steep ridge, Vala's muscles were aching from the jouncing. Surely Bram would halt soon for a rest, she told herself. As the trail grew steeper, she realized that, even if they did stop, she wouldn't have enough room to dismount and ease her aches and pains. There was no choice but to grin and bear it--or at least bear it, grinning being a bit beyond her right now. The rocky, tumbled terrain around them seemed as confusing as a maze. The only consistent feature was a vast stone pillar rising in the distance--Weaver's Needle. In addition to the stands of prickly-pear cactus and the grayish jojoba shrubs, green-barked palo verde trees were strewn at random among the rocks, making her wonder how they found enough dirt to grow.

  After a while she stopped noticing what was around her because she hurt too much to pay attention to anything but her own discomfort. When Susie Q finally quit moving, it took Vala a moment or two to realize they'd stopped on a small plateau. Bram and Davis had already dismounted and both were looking expectantly at her. Unfortunately, though she remembered Davis had told her to get off a horse the same way she got on, only in reverse, she was in too much pain to be able to recall how she'd mounted. And even if she did remember, she wasn't sure her aching muscles would obey her. Bram ambled toward her. "Thought we'd take a rest here," he said, obviously waiting for her to dismount.

  I can simply fall off, she told herself, or I can admit to the truth. Taking a deep breath, which hurt, she let it out slowly and admitted the truth. "I can't get off unless you help me."

  His eyebrows rose and he shook his head. "Stubborn," he muttered. "Have you ever been on a horse before?"

  "No. And it won't do any good for you to tell me how to dismount because I hurt too much to try."