“We’re here,” Cole said, pulling into a gravel parking lot and shutting off the truck motor. Lindy hadn’t even realized they’d turned off the main highway. Before they exited the vehicle, he reminded her to take her water bottle with her. He grabbed his from out of the cup holder on the console. She stood outside next to the truck gazing at the large hill springing from the earth in front of them.
“This is Three Rivers,” Cole said, urging her to walk beside him. “The trailhead begins at the shelter over there.”
She followed him to a small open shelter with a metal roof and a picnic table underneath. An older man wearing a nametag that read, Dan, Bureau of Land Management Volunteer Ranger, greeted them. Cole removed his wallet from his back pocket and paid the man four dollars.
“I can pay my own way in,” Lindy contended while digging into her purse.
“Your money’s no good,” Cole said, touching her hand. Dan smiled and handed them each a pamphlet and pointed to where the trail began. “It’s a half-mile hike to the top,” he informed them. “More than twenty-one thousand petroglyphs of birds, humans, animals, fish, insects and plants, as well as numerous geometric and abstract designs can be found on the rocks along this trail and scattered over fifty acres of the Chihuahuan Desert. They were created between 900 and 1400 A.D. with stone tools used to remove the dark patina on the exterior of the rock. On the east side,” he pointed across the road behind them, “a shorter trail leads to the remains of an ancient Mogollon village, whose inhabitants were likely responsible for these petroglyphs. On the village site, which was excavated in nineteen-seventy six, you’ll find foundations of three types of prehistoric buildings, and a small pueblo ruin nearby. Enjoy your hike.”
“Thank you,” Lindy and Cole replied together. She was glad to still be wearing the tennis shoes she’d worked in this morning. The trail looked to be rugged and a steep climb.
After a short ascension, Cole led the way across a wooden footbridge under which a slow-moving creek flowed. The moment Lindy crossed the bridge it hit her—the absolute quietness of the remote area. She turned around and gazed below. Dan had disappeared from sight. There were no other vehicles in the parking lot and no other visitors walking around. She and Cole were completely alone, and he had walked on, vanishing somewhere behind the large rocks ahead.
Lindy stood stock-still, listening. Were those drumbeats she heard in the distance? The cadence of a primeval melody? Or was it the sound of the wind rushing through the sagebrush? Murmured voices seemed to whisper around her ears. Her head swiveled, and she gazed over one shoulder and then the other. A shiver tickled her neck.
Was it possible her mind was playing tricks? No. What she felt was real. This place was special. A warm breeze began to stir and wafted through her hair. She closed her eyes and was thrust back in time, where she imagined the ancient Indians living here and creating their rock art. Through her mind’s eye, she could see them scratching upon the stone with their prehistoric tools and working side by side in hushed tones. Feeling so close to the past sent a thrill racing up her spine.
“Lindy!”
The sound of Cole’s voice snapped her back to the here and now. She felt his hands span her waist, and she turned to gaze into his blue eyes. When she glanced down, his hands flew off her hips as if he’d been burned.
“I thought you were right behind me,” he said, panting lightly. “Come on. Take a look at these petroglyphs.” This time, when he took a hold of her wrist and his fingers slipped down to entwine between hers, it felt natural. For a brief second, she considered disentangling herself, but the touch of his large, calloused hand enveloping hers felt good. Comforting. So she threw caution to the wind and allowed him to tow her up the trail.
One of the rock drawings he pointed out was of a roadrunner. Others close by were of bear and lion tracks. Still another image showed the body of a bighorn sheep pierced by three arrows. As they trudged further up the gravel trail, Lindy was amazed by the density of rocks on both sides, of all shapes and sizes filled with art. Everywhere she looked, she spied more symbols and geometric designs.
“I’m seeing a lot of rock art with a circle and dot motif,” she noted. “I wonder what the symbolism of that pattern is.”
“Let me check the guidebook.” They stopped for a breather, and Cole paged through the thin pamphlet. “It says here the circles account for over ten percent of the approximately twenty-one thousand four hundred petroglyphs, and that the circle and dot motif represents corn or a population count.”
It was hard to imagine corn, or any crops, being grown in this isolated, rocky environment. And for the life of her, she had no idea why the place was called Three Rivers. There wasn’t a river in sight, only the creek they’d crossed at the beginning of the trail.
Lindy smiled at Cole’s enthusiasm. It seemed he was just as interested in this site as she was. His zeal matched that of a little child’s as he read her more information from the booklet. “Haven’t you been here before?” she asked.
“Yeah, but it’s been years. I was young then and didn’t appreciate the history.”
A lizard scurried over Lindy’s foot right at that moment. “Did you see that?” she cried, jumping and watching it dart into a dark space between rocks.
“They’re all over the place. They don’t bite. But we should probably watch out for snakes. You’re not afraid of snakes, are you?”
“Of course I’m afraid of them. Who isn’t afraid of snakes?” She felt her eyes grow wide and knew they must be as large as saucers. Grabbing onto his sleeve wouldn’t keep the slimy reptiles away, but it made her feel more secure as they continued to hike.
They climbed farther up the winding path, checking out all the petroglyphs along the way—and watching for snakes—until they finally reached the highest point. Thankfully, a bench was there. Panting and perspiring, Lindy sat to rest her feet and took a long swig of water from her bottle. She guessed the temperature to be in the high eighties or low nineties. Good thing she’d slathered on sun block before leaving the ranch. The sun continued to burn high in the sky.
Cole pointed to the horizon at something white gleaming in the distance. “That’s the White Sands rising from the Tularosa basin.”
“What are the White Sands?” Lindy stood and cupped her hand to her forehead to beat the stinging glare.
“One of the world’s great natural wonders. Close to three hundred square miles of desert creates the world’s largest gypsum dune field—the White Sands National Monument. Anyone can drive or hike through the dunes and see the plants and animals that inhabit the ever-changing environment. I hear the rangers even give full moon tours.”
“You’ve never been on that particular tour?” She slid a querying glance at him, wondering if he’d taken Rachel, or Jordan.
“No.”
“Mmmm. The dunes are beautiful from up here. I wonder what they look like under the glow of the moon.”
“Maybe you’d like to check out the tour for yourself sometime.” He seared her with a gaze so strong she had to look away. “Of course, it’s not very romantic if you’re alone,” he added.
Feeling her throat catch, she took another drink of water and said, “That could be something you might want to mention to Ella as a possible outing for the ranch guests.”
The disappointment showed on his face, but only for a moment. Hopefully, he was taking to heart her request that they be friends and nothing more. “Good idea,” he said pleasantly. His gaze stretched eastward toward a towering mountain. “That’s Sierra Blanca. It’s a sacred spot for the Mescalero Apache tribe.”
As they stood side by side gazing across the miles of desert below, Lindy felt her heart galloping. Something deep inside drew her to Cole—excited her. God knew how long it’d been since she’d felt excited about anything or anyone. But no matter how attracted she was, she couldn’t let her emotions rule her head.
“Maybe we should start down,” she suggested, suddenly feeling glo
omy. “I’m a little tired and overheated, and we still have the ghost town to visit.” She tilted the water bottle into her mouth for another drink, but it was empty. The movement of tipping her head back caused her to feel off-balance, and she stumbled.
A look of concern filled Cole’s face as he grabbed her arm. “We can see White Oaks another day. Here. Drink the rest of my water.” He handed her his half-full bottle.
“I don’t want to take yours. You might need it before we reach the bottom.”
“I’m used to this weather. You’re not. Drink.”
She did and felt better. But how could she tell him her problems were more complicated than thirst, the heat, and fear of snakes? That any attraction they might have to each other could spell danger?
“Give me your hand and I’ll help you down,” he said. “We’ll take it slow.”
He was so sweet. Too sweet to be lied to. She had no choice in that matter. But she did have a say—the only say in letting more than a friendship develop between them. Even friendship could be risky, she’d learned.
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay on my own.” Before he could argue, she started down the trail ahead of him, not stopping her brisk, but cautious, pace until she reached the bottom of the hill. The moment she stepped onto the bridge, her gaze landed on the two men sitting at the picnic table under the shelter on the other side. Panic seeped into her bones.
They were white men with shaven heads, wearing T-shirts and staring straight at her. Memories from the last time members of Skin’s gang had found her penetrated her mind. Did these men have the initial “B” with a dagger and lily through it tattooed on their arms? She couldn’t tell from where she stood.
Her heart began to thrash against her ribcage. “Please God. Not again,” she moaned softly.
Ten
“Are you okay, Lindy?” Cole asked, catching up and touching her shoulder, which felt as rigid as a board. She flinched, and his gaze followed her line of vision. Two men sitting at the picnic table under the shelter gawked. As pretty as she was, he imagined men stared at her everywhere she went. It probably got old.
Next to him, it seemed like her breath was locked deep in her chest.
“What is it?” he said again, realizing her face had gone pale. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She swallowed, as if a thick lump of fear crawled up her throat.
“Hey! We’re ready to go,” shouted a woman in jeans and boots. Cole hadn’t noticed her standing in front of the portable toilets to the west of the shelter. Another woman exited the john and washed her hands in the spigot close by. Both men under the shelter turned to look at them. Then the men rose from the table and the two couples sauntered together toward the Harley Davidson motorcycles parked under a patch of trees near the road. In a matter of moments, the foursome had put on helmets, and the hogs had roared to life. Cole stared after the two cycles as they pulled out of the park and rumbled down the road leaving a trail of dust.
What about the men or the motorcycles had frightened Lindy? He turned her toward him and saw her release the breath she’d been holding. Bending at the waist, she braced her hands on her knees and dragged in fresh air. He wondered if she was having an attack of some kind.
“Those people must have stopped by for a rest and a bathroom break after we’d already started up the hill,” he said, stating the obvious. He placed his hand on her back trying to ease whatever anxiety she felt.
When he got no response, he said, “Lindy, please tell me what happened just now. What was it about those men that scared you?”
Suddenly, as if she’d been somewhere very far away—in another world, but had now returned—her spine straightened, and her big round eyes fastened onto his.
“I’m fine. It was nothing,” she said, inhaling deeply and treading across the bridge, leaving him behind again. She strode toward the truck like a power walker.
“The hell it was,” he said, catching up and gripping her by the shoulders as she tried to yank the locked door open. She wrenched out of his grasp, rubbed her right arm, and shot him a look that could maim, if not kill.
“Please don’t grab me like that,” she said, pursing her lips. “You hurt my arm.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back and reaching into his back pocket for the truck keys. Both doors automatically unlocked when he pushed the button on the key bob. Before he could do the gentlemanly thing of opening the door for her, Lindy jerked it open and climbed inside, slamming the door behind her. Feeling terrible for having upset her, he walked around to the driver’s side not realizing he’d grasped her so tight.
“I’m really sorry,” he apologized again before starting the truck. “I didn’t think I’d grabbed you so hard. Are you all right?”
She nodded and stared out the window. After a few moments of reflection, Cole sensed she wasn’t going to say more, so he started the pickup and left the park, deciding to definitely forego the ghost town and head back to the ranch. Whatever had just happened put a damper on other plans.
Once they were traveling on the highway, the awkward stillness keeping them apart was shattered when she finally spoke. “My shoulder was wounded in an accident several years ago. It still causes me pain at times. I’m sorry for reacting the way I did.”
Wounded? It seemed an odd word to use. If he’d hurt his arm in an accident, he probably would have described it as an injury. Cole wanted to ask what kind of accident it’d been. Car? Skiing? A fall? But he thought better of it. He didn’t want his head bitten off again.
“Again, I apologize,” he said instead. “I guess I don’t know my own strength. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.” She met his gaze and smiled, and he felt the tension between them melt.
“Do you want to tell me anything else?” he ventured a few moments later. Knowing there’d been something about those men, or the way they’d looked, had scared her, Cole thought maybe he’d gained her trust enough for her to open up to him. If he could help in some way, he wanted to. Lindy had confessed to a fear of snakes. Maybe she also had a fear of bald men who drove Harleys, he thought, half joking, half not. He wasn’t a therapist, but he was a man. And men liked to solve problems. If she had a problem he might be able to resolve for her, he wanted a shot at trying.
Despite the warning that churned in his gut that she was trouble, as well as her insistence that they could be nothing more than friends, the woman intrigued him. Something about her made him feel alive again. More than that, however, was the empathy he was beginning to feel for her. She was alone. New to Tularosa and New Mexico, apparently there was no one for her to count on, or to give a hand if she needed one.
Remembering the collect call she’d made to someone yesterday, Cole wondered who it was she’d phoned. Lindy hadn’t mentioned parents, but obviously someone knew she was here—someone important enough for her to call on her first day. She’d said she’d never been married, but maybe she had a boyfriend. If so, where was he and why had she left him behind to come here? And where was behind? Wyoming? He’d never gotten a clear answer from her on that one.
He slid a querying gaze at her and decided to take another stab at discovering why she’d acted so strangely at Three Rivers.
“Lindy, if you need someone to talk to, I’ll be around. Just want you to know that. Any time day or night, you can call if you need me. You can always use the phone in Mom’s office.”
“I don’t understand.”
He thought she did, but that she didn’t want to admit it. “I know those men scared you back there. I don’t know why, and I’m not going to press you about it. I’m just saying, if there comes a time when you need to talk, you can talk to me. I’m a good listener.”
A nervous chuckle came from her side of the truck. “I thought I recognized one of them. That’s all. It surprised me. Then I realized it couldn’t be possible. I don’t know anyone in New Mexico. And I sure don’t know anyone who rides a Harley motorcycle.” She smiled again, but he coul
d tell this smile was forced.
She’s hiding a secret. As sure as the sun is going to rise tomorrow morning, that woman is carrying a burden too heavy for her shoulders.
They made the remainder of the trip in silence.
“I’ll drop you off here,” Cole said, letting the truck idle once they’d gotten back to the ranch. He parked at the hitching post below the house.
“You’re not staying for supper?” she asked.
“Not tonight. I have some paperwork to catch up on at home. But I’ll be here bright and early in the morning. Enjoy your evening.”
“Your mom told me you live in town,” Lindy said, nibbling her lower lip. While under no illusions that she’d enjoyed his company so much that she didn’t want to say goodbye yet, he wondered if she was gearing up to confess something.
“That’s right. I own a small home in the historic forty-nine blocks,” he replied. “It was a falling down place when I bought it. But since completely renovating it, I could earn a nice profit if I ever decided to sell. Not that I have a reason to.” Knowing her firm stance on being friends only, he didn’t bother to offer to show it to her sometime.
“Thank you for today,” she finally said, while pushing open the cab door. Her mouth opened and closed, as if she was going to say something else and then changed her mind. She slipped out of the truck. “I had a good time. And I learned a lot about petroglyphs.”
“So did I. Had a good time, I mean,” Cole said. Their gazes latched, and he sensed she did want to get something off her chest but wasn’t quite ready. Persistent if nothing else, he figured he’d give it one last try. “Remember I’m only a phone call away if you want to talk.”
“I appreciate your offer, but there’s nothing to talk about,” she said softly.
“Okay. If there ever is…” His words drifted away like a wisp of smoke in the air.
Tularosa Moon Page 7
