by Jenna Kernan
“What are you asking, Ray?”
“You seemed like the both-feet-on-the-ground kind of girl. Risk averse and definitely not a pot hunter.”
“I’m no pot hunter. But I’m a good climber. If you are careful, it doesn’t have to be dangerous.”
He grinned. “Keep telling yourself that. Everything is dangerous. This stream cut these canyons. Those logs were thrown up on the bank during flash floods from storms farther up. Lightning strikes. Rattlesnake bites. Horses can roll on you.” He patted the side of the Appaloosa who did not slow his steady gate.
“Trail hitches fail,” she said.
He met her gaze, seeing an understanding of him that gave him a chill.
He nodded. “Deer in the road.”
“You never expected to make it this far, did you?” she asked.
Ray shook his head. “It’s freeing, in a way. Not expecting to survive. It gives you a kind of courage to try things. From the outside it might look like recklessness or bravery. But it’s really a lack of faith and an understanding that none of us can expect a future. Planning for it seems counterintuitive.”
“I couldn’t live like that. I have a child. So I don’t take risks and I plan for her future.”
He nodded. “I can understand that.”
“You’re good with her, you know? My daughter.”
What did that mean? Was she trying him on for size as a potential father to her girl? Ray surprised himself by not feeling an immediate rejection of the thought. Instead he was gripped with something unfamiliar, a kind of ache behind his breastbone. He wasn’t staying around to play house. She must know that. So why was he picturing her waiting for him in the welcoming kitchen of her small home?
Morgan was more than appealing and Lisa was a wonderful kid. But he wasn’t the sort of man a woman chose for a husband and father. He knew what women wanted from him and up until now that had been just fine. So what was with the ache in his chest?
He was more the sort you brought home to terrify your parents and impress your friends. The wrong kind of man for a good girl who didn’t like risks.
“Lisa is a sweet kid,” he said.
“And she’s been through a lot.”
That must be true. No father, but Ray knew that Karl had adequately filled those shoes. But he could do so no longer. Ray’s mind shot him an image of his parents’ graves and the single headstone they shared.
People you loved left you. Not by choice. But they were just as gone. Lisa deserved a dad. Someone like Jack or Dylan. The idea of him trying to be a father to Lisa terrified him more than his nightmares of the insurgent attack where they lost Hatch.
“We better get moving,” he said.
Chapter Fourteen
Ray retrieved the horses and held her mount as she swung up into the saddle. She was a fine sight astride a horse. Made his own withers twitch as images that had no business in his mind continued to pop up like prairie dogs in a meadow.
Ray’s radio crackled and he spoke to Jack, explaining their decision to spend the night. He did not give their location or any other details. Jack promised to check on Lisa and radio back. Then they were on their way. They followed a Jeep trail cut in the tall yellow grass. They rode abreast, each in one of the ruts left by the tires.
“Seems someone has been up here recently,” said Ray, studying the tread marks left in the sand. Too small for a pickup, he realized. “Do you think your father was well enough to make this ride?” said Ray.
Karl had been in the last stages of his cancer. Riding up to a cliff dwelling seemed impossibly difficult to Morgan.
“He might have used his four-wheeler for most of it. He has one as well as ramps to drive it right up into his truck.”
“You said he couldn’t drive.”
“He wasn’t supposed to drive. But the day before the shooting, he took his truck. I was on nights then. He was gone when I woke up but back before my next shift.”
“You ask where he went?”
“I did. He said it was personal.”
“When do you get home from work?”
“In time to get Lisa on the bus.”
Ray paused, thinking. “So he was gone up to ten hours?”
“Possibly.”
The sunlight now shone just on the eastern wall of the canyon, painting the rock a dazzling orange, but shadows were slowly climbing up the rock face as the sun sank.
“Do you want to camp at the base of the cliff or up in the caves?” he asked.
“Caves are better for defense,” she said.
Ray lifted his brow. She was thinking like a strategist. “Sounds good. We should make it by dark. Be close though.”
They took the turn along the stream past the willows that grew so thick he did not see the elk until it darted out from cover to charge up the opposite bank. They dismounted and led the horses away from the stream, taking them up the dry canyon and pausing to water them at the natural spring. Ray admired the green vegetation here by the water. There were pinyon trees and oak and an abundance of wild grape growing with broad leaves and the buds that would soon flower. But just past the spring and in all directions to the canyon walls, the ground was thirsty and the vegetation sparse, dry and yellowing.
He tied the horses and loosened the girths, but left the bridles for now. He let the horses drink as he refilled their water bottles and his canteen. They each took a few minutes alone to relieve themselves. They met by the water and washed away some of the dust from their faces.
“Your father was wise not to leave the money with you, but the clues make it unlikely that anyone could find the cash without you. That puts you and his granddaughter at risk. I know Karl well enough to know he never intended that.”
“But did he really think I would keep it?”
Ray cocked his head as if this never occurred to him.
“It’s blood money. If all that you and the FBI have told me is true, then he was paid this ransom to murder a man.”
“A mass murderer.”
“A human being.”
“Who shot nine other human beings dead, including women, one of whom was pregnant.”
“Sanchez was a disturbed man. But my father, he wasn’t a killer.”
Clearly Karl had not shared any of his war stories with his daughter. That was for the best. But Karl had been a killer. A darned good one. A killer and a man who wove baskets.
“Even if it wasn’t illegal to keep the money, I could never spend any of it. It’s just morally wrong.”
“Your dad was trying to look after his family. He used what he had, a talent for shooting and the knowledge that he was not long for this world.”
“I love my father, Ray. But that does not mean I condone his actions.”
“He was a good man.”
“But he deceived me and he knew...” She stopped talking and looked at the rock face rising to their left.
“Knew what?”
“He knew that I hate deception. After what happened to me with Lisa’s father. I just can’t bear people lying. He knew that and yet he did not reveal a word of his plans.”
Ray’s stomach clenched. He was here to protect Morgan, but that was only part of his assignment. Kenshaw had also instructed him to discover exactly what Morgan knew of her father’s business. This had not bothered him when he accepted, but now that he knew her, everything was different. She’d hate him, too, when she discovered his lie of omission.
“He was protecting you.”
“He hasn’t protected me. He’s put me and his granddaughter in danger. All because of a lie. He knew if he told me what I would say.”
“You’d have tried to stop him.”
“Of course I would! I’d have gone to Chief Tinnin and had him locked up. Isn’
t that what you do with those you love? You keep them from making mistakes—even if for the right intention, his decision was wrong.”
Ray knew that he wouldn’t have told her either. And he would have been a lot more careful about how he collected that cash. But then, it would not have mattered. Because Morgan would just give it all back.
“So you want to turn the money over to the FBI,” he said.
“As fast as humanly possible.”
“That’s probably a wise move. Once they announce the recovery of the money, the wolves will leave your door. You and Lisa will be safe.”
“But still broke.” She laughed. “I need to get back to work at the casino or I’ll need to apply to the tribe for temporary assistance.”
Medical care, such as it was and Lisa’s education were paid for by the tribe. Morgan might be paying rent on the tribal housing, if she could afford it. Without Karl here, the tribe might reassign them to a smaller place. Lisa would lose the only home she had ever known. Ray thought of the day he left his home to move in with Yeager’s parents. He didn’t know what happened to his parents’ things. The adults had taken care of that.
“Ray?” Morgan asked. “Are you all right?”
“Why?”
“You just look sad.”
“Karl didn’t want you to lose your home.”
She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “It’s just a house.”
That was an admission that Morgan knew exactly what was coming. He realized that there were many challenges ahead for Morgan and her girl, small everyday struggles with everyday issues. But that was only if they could find this money. He looked at the sky, still blue but fading now with bands of yellow and orange creeping in from the west. They needed to get to the ruins. He glanced back.
“You think we are being followed?” asked Morgan.
“I wouldn’t be surprised.”
They continued along in silence, Morgan falling behind his horse as the path narrowed. If Karl had driven, he would have had to make these last two hundred yards on foot, carrying the money. Then he would have to hide it before walking back to his vehicle. And that was if he hid the money at the base of the cliff dwelling. Ray hoped they would not find another clue turning them back the way they had come.
Here the banks grew steep with red rock rising on their left. Cactus and yucca clung to the clefts along the way. And now he saw the cave some one hundred yards up the steep rocky grade. The last fifty feet was a sheer cliff face with niches carved by human hands to assist in the final ascent. He could not picture Karl making such a climb, especially not burdened with anything, like two hundred thousand dollars.
Then he and Morgan scrambled up loose rock and over red stone to the base of the cliff. He retrieved the wooden ladder that was carved in a series of notches up the trunk of a ponderosa pine. The ladder did not reach the lip of the cave, but nearly so. The last fifteen feet was made along a fissure in the rock with the assistance of niches carved by the ancient ones. Together they leaned the beam into the notch that had likely been used for a thousand years for this purpose. She headed up first, leaving Ray to admire the sight of Morgan as she climbed up and then into the fissure in the stone. The woman had not been bragging, for she climbed with the ease of a mountain goat. Once she was out of sight, he released his hold on the beam and tied their packs and saddle bags to a rope, which he tied to himself. Then he followed her.
By the time he reached the crack in the stone, she had mounted the final few feet of the steep incline that led to the cave floor. This dwelling was easy to miss from below if you did not know the location. He wondered if enemies might have walked right below the noses of the people living in the caves above. The place was very defensible. There were poles in the caves cut to a length that could knock the pine ladder away. If an enemy was climbing to the rim of the cave, it would be easy to knock that enemy off the ledge with falling stones or the strike of a club.
But there were two vulnerabilities. First, there was no water in the caves, so an enemy might wait them out. It seemed that a historic drought did drive the ancient ones away. The second weakness was the exposed lip of the cave floor that protruded from the cliff face, making it possible to roll rocks down from above.
Morgan called down from above that she had reached the top. Ray concentrated on placing a hand and then a foot into the notches carved in the sandstone wall. Each had three grooves, worn from the fingers of thousands of men and women who had climbed before him. They, however, were not wearing boots. The footholds were never meant for such footgear or for a man who was over six three and wore a size twelve shoe. In this climb, a woman had the advantage. He reached the top, sweating and thirsty. Morgan offered him a hand and he took it. She hauled and he pushed until he stood on the cave floor beside her. She did not try to retrieve her hand.
“Look,” she said, motioning with her free hand.
The light that had vanished from the canyon floor still clung to the lip of the canyon rim, turning the sandstone brilliant orange. His breath, which was already coming fast from his exertions, caught for a moment at the beauty of this place.
“Can you imagine seeing that sight every evening?” he asked.
She moved closer to his side and he looped an arm over her shoulder.
“It’s lovely.”
Her body felt just right tucked against his and in that moment of calm and peace, Ray glimpsed something he had not seen in many years, a future. He could imagine it now, the long days ahead with Morgan and her daughter, it came to him in a flash and vanished just as quickly. Crushed by his belief that future plans were for fools who did not understand that life was not to be trusted.
He stepped away.
“I’d better get our gear. The light’s fading.” He hauled their packs up and together they set up camp and had a meal of cold sandwiches and water with the fresh fruit Jack had added to their things. Afterward they went to see the petroglyph Morgan recalled. There in the back of one of the rooms were the animal effigies that were nearly identical to the ones Karl had tapped into the side of the chimney. But search as they might, they found no place nearby where the floor or stone walls had been disturbed.
“A dead end,” he said.
Morgan’s shoulders drooped. “This means they won’t stop coming.”
He feared that this treasure might become like the fabled Lost Dutchman’s Mine in the Superstition Mountains with entrepreneurs selling maps to treasure hunters who would invade their land as the Spanish and the Anglos had done. But worse than that, they might hurt Morgan in an attempt to find that money.
The sun sank behind them and the sky changed rapidly from orange to deep blue. Stars emerged one after another until, by the time they finished their meal, they were scattered across the heavens.
“Did you ever sleep here?” he asked.
“No. Day trips only. My dad liked to look at the petroglyphs and pottery shards. He studied the cordage to see how the ancient ones made their ropes and baskets.”
“I’d prefer to be well away from the edge when we bed down,” said Ray.
They had not hauled wood and so they had no fire. They sat on the ledge looking out at the stars and Ray thought this one of the most peaceful moments of his life. A silent contentment filled him as Morgan spoke about coming here with her father as a girl.
“His favorite glyphs are those the ancient ones used as calendars. He used to show us the petroglyphs and explain them. He came here a lot as a boy especially at the equinox. He said there was a mark for each one.”
“To mark the solstices and equinoxes?” he asked.
“Yes and the times to plant the crops.”
Ray looked back toward the wall of markings. “I’d like to see that.”
“It’s down below. There’s a rock whose shadow points to the markings when
the sun crests the eastern canyon wall. It lines up perfectly for each planting time.”
“And your father showed you this?”
She nodded.
“Morgan, maybe that’s where he left the next clue.”
“Should we go down there?”
“You think you can make that climb in the dark?”
She nodded and they gathered up their supplies. Ray lowered them to the ground and went first. Morgan climbed down behind him and they reached the canyon floor in only a few minutes.
“Easier in the dark,” she said. “You can still see the hand holds but you’re not distracted by the height.”
For a woman who loved security and didn’t take risks, Morgan was certainly doing a good impression of a daredevil.
* * *
MORGAN LED HIM a short distance along the cliff face. Around them, the familiar shrubs and brush cast long shadows in the starlight. There was more than enough light to see and she found the place easily.
Ray studied the swirling spirals and series of descending lines that reminded Ray of a staircase.
“That’s the planting schedule. When the shadow from the tip of that rock—” she pointed to a jagged rock that had split from the main canyon wall in some long-ago time “—falls on this mark, it tells the people to plant their first crop. Here’s the second and the third, which was cotton. Over there, each of the spirals marks one of the solstices or equinoxes. The whole thing is an elaborate calendar.”
“Where does the shadow fall now?” Ray asked.
Morgan turned to him, seeming to know his mind. She smiled. “I guess we will find out tomorrow.”
They laid out the bedrolls so that they would be here beside the wall at first light. Morgan moved her bedroll closer to his and settled in. He excused himself and when he returned it was to the soft breathing of a sleeping woman. He tried to tell himself it was for the best. That this woman was special and she deserved a man who could love her for a lifetime. He could protect her. But he was not the sort of dependable man who could help her make a home. He remembered his parents. But they had left him when he was so young. He had no clue how to be a father to Lisa, who would be preparing for her sunrise ceremony in only a year. Morgan should have a dependable, reliable man of honor. That was what she needed. Not one who had a prior for rolling his car in Darabee, an event he could not even remember because he’d been so drunk. Not a love affair. Not another man to leave her. She needed a man who would stay forever.
