“I like a church service if I’m ever near enough to attend one.”
“Ours was very formal. My mother certainly didn’t play the piano. She isn’t… I’m not… close to her. She’s not a person to give hugs or sing along with.” Her mother didn’t even bother with a switch. “I had a nursemaid when I was young, a governess and tutors in later years. I attended a young lady’s academy day school during my teens to learn comportment and etiquette.”
With a furrowed brow, Gabe said, “Comportment and etiquette, what’s that?”
“I suppose it’s—it’s—well—my mother’s version of collywobbles and shimmy. The language of the people I lived among.”
With a shrug at her nonanswer, Gabe said, “You need another drink?”
“Yes, please. The water tastes good.”
Gabe raised her up again with such gentleness it brought tears to Shannon’s eyes.
With a sigh, Gabe said, “You must have enough water if you’ve got it to spare for tears.” He helped her drink deeply.
When she was done, he reached across her to set the canteen down, and that brought him very close. Once the canteen was set aside, he seemed to notice just how close. He studied her tear-filled eyes for a length of time that Shannon lost track of, then lowered his head to kiss her.
When Gabe pulled away, he studied her closely. “Remember me saying you should keep your kisses to yourself if you didn’t intend to stay here with me?”
Shannon thought maybe she did remember something like that. “Yes.”
“I’m taking this to mean you’re thinking of staying.”
And she was. Very seriously. Thinking. About staying.
No, that wasn’t exactly true, because she was really only thinking of one thing.
She used her good hand to pulled Gabe’s head down and start the kiss all on her own.
“How long have we been going down?” Tyra stood beside Buck as they watched Hance drop down on his backside on a ledge, roll over on his stomach, and scoot backward over a cliff. Again.
She mopped her forehead with a bandana and wished she could shed her long-sleeved shirt and switch her riding skirt for something lightweight like calico. Those Yavapai were dressed about right for the area with their loincloths. She wondered what their women wore. The mental image was more than a little shocking.
“I’m starting to hate this canyon.” Buck ran his thumb along the straps that tied his bedroll and pack onto his shoulders.
Tyra knew just how he felt. “But the view… Can you imagine anything so beautiful?”
Buck shook his head as Tyra’s father sat down where their guide had been. “Captain Hance said about eight or ten hours to get to the bottom. It’s well past noon.”
Tyra looked up at the blazing sun. “I miss the morning. I promise tomorrow I’ll appreciate the shade.”
“If we survive until morning.” Buck didn’t sound like he was having one bit of fun, though she did catch him looking across the canyon on occasion, as if transfixed by the beauty. She’d done it plenty herself.
She went next down the cliff. It wasn’t that far, and it wasn’t a sheer drop. She could worm her way down, carrying her heavy pack with no damage, but it was a slow way to roast to death, spread out on rocks under that relentless sun. It gave her some sympathy for the rabbits they had snared and planned to roast for supper tonight.
She waited for Buck to come down, and they walked side by side on a briefly wider stretch of trail that rattlesnaked its way up and down, side to side, mean and hot and—if they weren’t careful—deadly. But whatever kind of loco Hance was, the man knew his trail.
It was a tough route, but she didn’t see an easier way. She could tell Hance had done this many times before. They’d been lucky to find him.
He’d never stopped talking the whole way down. Usually they were far enough back to ignore him. And the man didn’t seem to care. She wondered if he talked this way when he was alone.
“And I first found the canyon because I got caught in a buffalo stampede.”
Tyra and Buck exchanged a glance but didn’t comment. It didn’t help. Nothing stopped the man.
“Well, I was on a flat stretch a’ land with nowhere to hide as far as the eye could see. And I knew that the one place no one wants to be is in front of a buffalo stampede.”
Tyra and Buck slowed a bit more.
“Then I spotted one skinny stick of a tree between me and that stampede, and I ran fast and climbed that tree just before those buffalo hit.”
The trail ahead seemed clear, and Tyra estimated that she had up to five minutes before she’d face another chance of falling to her death. “Are you really going to marry the woman we’re searching for?” Tyra liked it when Buck turned his blue eyes on hers. They… sort of sparkled. They were a bright blue with glittering stripes of lighter color separating the blue into what seemed nearly jewels.
He smiled, and she admired his white teeth. “I’ve been thinking about life back home. It’s a sight easier than the West.”
They rounded a curve in the trail and saw a tower ahead of them that defied description; it was so dazzling in its height and the layers of color. Beyond that lay another one and another and another. Stone of all colors, dotted with bushes and bristly trees. Surely the most beautiful, rugged place.
“But there’s nothing like this back there,” Buck continued. “Nothing. It’s a hard land, but it’s worth it. To me it’s worth it.”
“Well, I knew that tree was going over, and if you think it’s bad to be in front of a buffalo stampede, well, let me tell you it’s even worse being under a buffalo stampede. So I saw the biggest, meanest buffalo bull coming toward me, and I knew it was jump or die, so I—”
Tyra moved a bit closer to Buck. “My pa’s ranch is twenty thousand acres. We’ve got good water and grassland, but there are places…” She looked at that colonnade. “Well, nothing like that, but the land is beautiful. Powerful. A hard land. Challenging. It pulls at you until it’s part of you, or maybe until you’re part of it. You’re closer to God on the land. The seasons, the rain, the heat, birth and death—it’s a good life.”
“I like what this place makes me feel.” Buck tore his eyes from the colonnade. Then those eyes rounded to her and got just as stuck. The voice droning on with its tall tales faded as the rest of their traveling companions rounded a curve and vanished.
“And what is that?” Tyra liked what she was feeling, too, though she was hard put to describe it.
“I think challenged is a good word. It’s asking me to be strong, to work hard, to test myself against the land and the sun and the water and the cliffs. I’m doing it, too—passing the test. Life isn’t very challenging where I come from. I think…” His voice faded, and he shook his head.
“What?” Tyra reached out and touched his arm without really planning to. This was important. She leaned closer to encourage him… and to see his eyes just a little better.
“I think I could be a better man if I stayed out here.” Buck’s eyes seemed closer. “I think I’m up to that challenge. I’d like to have a chance to prove that I could manage without all the safety of my comfortable home and the cushion of money. You know I’ve never worked a day in my life?”
Tyra couldn’t quite imagine it. “Never?”
A gust of wind brought Hance’s voice to them. “I dug my fingers into the shaggy hair of that buffalo, and I hung on, and the bull took me for a ride that lasted two weeks….” Hance’s voice faded.
“I’ve studied.” Buck shrugged. “Schoolwork. But not real labor, not even a job sitting at a desk. Why would I when I was born with more money than I’ll ever need?”
Why indeed?
“But out here, I can see that no man ought to live that way. No man can take real pride in himself if he’s never faced something hard and come out, win or lose, knowing he did his best. Knowing he endured.” Buck was looking through her into the past or the future or his dreams—she didn’t know what.
“I know climbing down into this canyon doesn’t really qualify as enduring. Not when we’ve got lots of supplies and a trail guide, but it’s the most satisfying accomplishment of my life. I like it.”
His eyes focused on her. “I like you, Tyra Morgan. You make me feel almost as much as this canyon.”
“Then to stay alive”—Hance seemed to be shouting his story now, probably feeling sorry for anyone who dared to miss a syllable—”I started in eating that buffalo from the top down while I rode on his back. The bull finally collapsed right on the edge of this here canyon.”
Tyra probably shouldn’t be honored to be compared to a hole in the ground, but this was the grandpappy of all holes. “Really?”
“I feel more for you in the few days since we’ve met than I ever have for Shannon.”
She opened her mouth to say… she wasn’t sure what.
His lips cut off whatever she’d been going to say. And just as well, because this was a much better idea than talking. She slid her arms around his waist and ran into his huge pack. Pulling back, she smiled at him and moved her arms so they surrounded his neck.
Buck was more determined. He found a way to hook his hand around her waist and draw her close, deepening the kiss.
“Tyra! Buck! Where are you?”
With a guilty jerk, Tyra whispered, “Pa!” She turned to look down the trail, and there was no one, but the voice wasn’t that far away and coming nearer. She looked back at Buck. “We’d better go”
“Yep.” Nodding, Buck sneaked in one more quick kiss. Or two. “But this isn’t over, Tyra.”
His quick glance at her lips told her just exactly what he meant by “this.”
“In fact, pretty lady, it’s just begun.”
Tyra’s knees felt far too weak to continue trekking down a canyon wall.
“Tyra, Buck, are you all right?” Pa’s shout had taken on an edge of worry.
There wasn’t much choice but to make her legs work. She stepped away.
Buck caught her arm and reeled her back for one last kiss. “Okay, now you can go.”
She smiled and he laughed, his eyes flashing hot and blue like the heart of a flame.
Tyra walked quickly toward her pa while she considered all the reasons the Grand Canyon was about the grandest place she’d ever been.
Twenty
We’ll move out tomorrow morning.” Hozho took the cup of bitter liquid.
“It’s horrible to drink, but it really does make me feel better.” Shannon shuddered at the aftertaste then sighed with relief that the medicine was gone.
The elderly woman adjusted the sling and ran one work-calloused hand through Shannon’s hair. “It will be painful but bearable, I think, and you want to go, don’t you?”
Hozho’s gruff tenderness was more than Shannon had ever gotten from her mother. Realizing that sad bit of truth hurt worse than her shoulder. She wanted to get this done now. Finish with the quest, go back and deal with Mother and Bucky, then maybe, just maybe, see if she had a future with Gabe.
Hozho pulled the blanket up to cover Shannon, tucking her in for the night like a child.
“Why is it so cold at night and so hot during the day?”
“Just the way of the desert, especially the high desert.”
“This is high?” Shannon asked. “We’ve been walking downhill for days.”
In the bright moonlight, Shannon saw a smile curl Hozho’s lips and all her deep wrinkles fall into unnatural lines. The woman wasn’t much for smiling. “Get some sleep, ah-tad. Tomorrow, maybe we’ll get to your lost city.”
“Aren’t the rest of you going to sleep yet?” Shannon shifted under the cover, and the pain nearly tricked a gasp out of her, but she was doing her best to be stalwart in the hopes they’d let her ride tomorrow.
A snap of worry in Hozho’s black eyes told Shannon the elderly woman wasn’t fooled. Hozho gave her cheek a rough caress. “Gabe is within your sight. The parson will be back soon. Hosteen and I must check our snares tonight then take them down. We don’t leave them behind to take an animal’s life when we aren’t there to accept the gift of food. If we wait until morning, we’ll be getting a late start.”
Shannon saw the parson’s horse try to bite him in the arm. The parson started snarling.
“Let me picket him for you.” Gabe hurried to take the black mustang toward the others to graze. “You want to fill the canteens?”
The parson, who’d been muttering dire threats against his not-so-trusty steed, perked up, grabbed the canteens stacked near the fire, and whistled a hymn as he walked away on the moonlit path.
“I won’t be gone long.” Hozho pushed away from Shannon.
“Thank you.” Shannon caught her calloused hand. She could have thanked this lady, who had been so hostile to her at first, for one hundred things. “Hozho, I want you to know that—”
Silence reigned for a moment.
“My mother knows every rule there is for polite manners and proper behavior. She dresses beautifully and… and comports herself perfectly.”
“What is comport?” Hozho asked.
Shannon shrugged. The pain in her shoulder made her regret that. “She knew all sorts of rules of good manners, but she didn’t know how to be kind, Hozho. She didn’t know how to care for anyone but herself. When I say thank you, it’s not enough. But I just want you to know I mean it sincerely. I am so thankful for your care, your kindness, the food you and Hosteen find for us. Your wisdom about this land. And that you stayed with me when it made more sense to leave. Thank you.”
No smile this time, as if Hozho had used them all up for the day. “You’re a good girl, Shannon. Loco, but with a good heart. I hope we find this city you search for, but if it’s treasure you want, you need to search for it in your heart, in your soul.”
“I just want to finish this. Then I’m going to stop living my life for my father and mother and start living it for myself.”
“True treasure is inside your heart—it’s a soul that is at peace with God. So live this life for God, ah-tad. Not for your parents or yourself. Streets of gold are for the next life.”
“I know.” Nodding, Shannon wondered if Hozho was wishing they could get out of here, go back up to the rim, and leave this beautiful, dangerous place behind. Well, they would, but not tonight. She felt her chin firm with determination; some might call it stubbornness. But she’d learned to be stubborn in the last two years as everyone she knew, most especially her mother, pressured her to give up this quest.
Just one more day and they’d find what Shannon’s father had found. Then everything would be fine and in good order. Just one more day.
Hozho looked at her, concerned and a bit amused, and seemed to understand what Shannon was thinking. With a shake of her head, Hozho said, “Good night, ah-tad.”
Hosteen and Hozho left the camp.
He’d heard what passed between Shannon and Hozho. Heard Shannon’s determination. It chafed at Gabe, but he hadn’t expected different. He suspected Hozho hadn’t either. But it had been worth a try.
He finished caring for the horses and came to her side. “Think you’re ready to move tomorrow, then?” Gabe dropped to his knees on Shannon’s left, by her wounded arm.
“It’s better. I’m not saying it’s healed up, but it’s much less painful. I can travel tomorrow.”
“Listen, we’ve got a couple of minutes before the parson comes back.”
Shannon shifted just slightly, careful of her arm, to focus on him.
“Some things passed between us this morning, Shannon. Things that make me wonder… that is… hope… that you might not be… what I mean is…”
“I don’t feel like I’ve known you long enough to decide about the future, Gabe.”
His heart sank.
“But I have known you long enough to know I don’t have a future with Bucky.”
Then it soared.
“I wouldn’t feel what I do for you if there was anything rea
l behind the understanding I have with him.” Shannon swallowed hard. “I don’t even know if he’ll be that upset when I break things off.”
She said when, not if. Gabe hoped the parson went about his water work real slowly.
“But my mother, well… I know you think my father was a madman.”
“Not really.” Not completely mad. A little maybe.
“But he was the nice one of my parents. You’re going to have to meet my mother.”
It was Gabe’s turn to swallow. “That’s fine. I’d like that.” “No, I can promise you won’t. And she won’t like it either. She’ll turn up her snobbish little nose at you and tell you you’re not worthy of me. She’ll insult you and take every shot she can straight at your pride.”
“I’m from a decent, hardworking family. We were hardscrabble back in Tennessee, but we took care of ourselves and had a roof over our heads we’d built with our own hands.” Not his hands precisely. He’d been too young, but still—”And my brothers are spread all over the country. A couple still live in Tennessee with nice farms. A couple ranch in New Mexico and Texas. One’s in California and—”
“I know they’re good men, Gabe.” Shannon reached across her body with her right hand and rested it on his forearm. “I know you’re a good man. And in America anyone willing to work hard and be honest can make a living, and you’d take good care of… of… well…” “A wife?” Gabe supplied with a grin.
Shannon shrugged then winced in pain. “And even if you did have money trouble, I’ve inherited a tidy fortune from both of my grandmothers and I have a—”
“A fortune? Really?” Gabe bristled at that. “I don’t need your inheritance to take care of you, Shannon. I own a nice ranch in Wyoming. We’ll go back and get things straightened out with Bucky then let your ma have her say. Then I’ll give you all the time you want to decide if we finally know each other well enough to get married. But I think you get to know a lot about a person when you go through hard times with them.” “But it’s only been a few days. We can’t—” He cut her off. “But these haven’t been normal days. It’s been life and death. I’ve seen you terrified, furious. I’ve seen you fighting for your life and laughing and in prayer. I’ve seen your determination and intelligence.” He didn’t mention common sense, and for a good reason, but he figured he had enough for both of them. “I think days like these last few reveal what a person is really like inside. How they’ll hold up over the years.”
Deep Trouble Page 22
