by Janet Dailey
He spotted the second rock tower just ahead and slowed the vehicle again. This time the long shadow stretching from it wasn’t as distinct in the dimming light. The edges of it blended with the surrounding darkness. But there was a canyon on his left. As close as he could tell, the shadow fell about five feet to the right of the opening to it.
Deciding that was close enough, Griff drove out of the coulee and swung toward the canyon. Camping there tonight would put him a jump ahead of the others. If his luck held, tomorrow he’d locate the eagle rock and the gold before the Sommers woman reached the canyon.
Suddenly everything smelled sweet to him.
After making a final check on the horses, Luke headed back to the camp, the boot scuff of his steps sounding loud in the evening stillness. Behind him there was the companionable chomp and rip of a horse tearing off another mouthful of grass, while from the campsite came the muted clank of the coffeepot as Fargo puttered about, readying things for the morning.
The fire burned low, throwing off a dim and wavering glow that deepened the shadows surrounding it and cast a flickering highlight over the nearest tent canvas. Automatically Luke scanned the outer ring of the fire circle as he drew near camp. He identified Fargo’s bulky shape right away, but there was no sign of Angie.
He glanced toward the tents, thinking she might have turned in for the night, but all three appeared empty. He checked the path to the latrine area next, then caught a glimpse of her silhouette, outlined by the star-studded night sky. She faced the canyon, but her head was tilted toward the heavens.
Altering his course, Luke crossed to her. “Star gazing, or thinking about the gold?” he asked, a whisper of amusement in the question.
Her lips curved in a warm and easy smile. “Actually, I was thinking about my grandfather, trying to imagine how he felt the first night he spent in this valley.” She spoke in soft tones. The evening quiet seemed to dictate it. “Was he nervous, excited, eager? Was he thinking about the gold, or had his thoughts turned to home?”
“Assuming he was ever here,” Luke inserted, his mouth quirking.
“Oh, he was here.” Angie was positive of that. She could almost feel his presence. “It’s funny,” she mused idly. “Even though I never knew my grandfather, my grandmother talked about him so much that it feels like I did. I guess it’s true that memories can keep people alive long after they’re gone.” Her glance strayed to him, soft with understanding. “But you know that better than I do.”
“Yes.” Luke was jarred by the unexpected reference to the loss of his wife and son. He hadn’t wanted to be reminded of them, not at this particular time.
But Angie didn’t appear to notice. “One thing I’m certain about, though—my grandfather was as awed by this sky as I am.” Once again she lifted her gaze to the multitude of stars strewn across the night’s velvet-black curtain like one-carat diamonds across a jeweler’s cloth. The sight drew another sigh of admiration from her. “I keep telling myself these are the same stars that shine every night over Iowa, but they seem more beautiful, more magical here.”
“There’s no competition. No streetlights, no houselights, no headlights, no yard lights.”
“You’re right, I know,” Angie agreed grudgingly. “But logic somehow takes away the wonder of it—the mystery. I don’t want to know why. I just want to look and marvel. That probably sounds silly to you. No doubt you’ve seen so many night skies like this, you take them for granted.”
“Probably,” he agreed, but it was her profile he was studying, the pale radiance of her face in the starlight, and the dark, almost black, shine of her auburn hair. Her nearness livened his senses, making Luke aware of the stirrings inside. “I was dead to a lot of things for a long time.”
She threw him a side glance, her dark eyes alight with approval and amusement. “That’s encouraging.”
He drew his head back in genuine puzzlement. “What is?”
“You used the past tense,” Angie replied, making a quarter pivot to face him, all confident and vibrant.
His glance drifted to her lips, lying together in a faintly curved line, their rounded contours soft and inviting. He felt the pull of them—of her—but resisted.
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” Luke stated a bit more harshly than he intended.
That hint of a smile vanished from her face, her expression taking on a sad and somber tone. “No, I don’t imagine you would think it is, would you?” she said, then murmured, “poor Luke. Being careful not to care too much about anyone or anything probably seems the best way to protect yourself from being hurt again.” Angie cupped a consoling hand to his face. “I’m sorry.”
Startled by the contact, Luke went motionless, but Angie didn’t seem to notice. Leaning closer, she lightly kissed him. It was an innocent gesture of sympathy and affection. But for him, it was like a bread crumb to a starving man. Before she could draw away, he pulled her back to take a larger sample.
Alive. He felt alive for the first time in years, stimulated by the feel of her in his arms and the giving warmth of her lips. One hand tunneled into the silky softness of her hair while the other dragged her against him, molding her to his length.
The contact was unexpected but not unwanted by Angie. On the contrary, the second his mouth claimed hers she realized she had been waiting for it all along, anticipating its ability to thrill her to her toes. But it was his unbridled need and hunger in it that took her breath away and evoked an equally potent response.
A bit dazed and dazzled, she drew back to gaze at him in wonder, awed by the instant heat. “Wow,” Angie murmured in a breathy voice. “Do you always react like that to a peck on the lips?”
His heavy-lidded gaze traveled over her face. “Try it again and let’s see.”
With the taste of him still tingling on her lips, Angie needed no second invitation. She moved toward his mouth, but he met her halfway and the ground shook again.
Forgotten was the gold, in fact everything except the feel of his hard body and the desire that swirled around them. It was like being caught in a powerful vortex. Angie felt herself being swept into it. Some scrap of sanity told her it was all happening much too fast.
Summoning the will, she reluctantly dragged her mouth away, her arms stiffening ever so slightly to keep some distance between them. “I think we need to come up for air,” Angie murmured, her voice shaky as she strived for lightness.
Air was the last thing Luke wanted. His reaction was an immediate tightening of his grip. He knew he could easily overpower her and haul her back into his arms. That’s where he wanted her.
Still, he hesitated, suddenly feeling like a teen-aged kid on a first date, too afraid of being rejected to push his luck. Remembering how rotten his luck had been, he relaxed his grip and idly rubbed the area where his fingers had briefly dug in, not quite recognizing it was a kind of caress.
“We could always blame this on the starlight,” he suggested, fully aware it was more than that for him.
Angie threw him a startled look. “Starlight.” She almost laughed the word. “If that’s true, then Wyoming has the most potent starlight I’ve ever experienced.”
He laughed; it was a low and easy sound that somehow took away the tension and made everything all right.
Her gaze traveled over him, all warm and comfortable with just a hint of marvel in it. “I imagine it’s getting late,” Angie murmured with reluctance. “We probably should be turning in.”
“We probably should,” Luke agreed, but something told him that he would spend most of the night staring at her tent, wondering whether sleep was proving to be equally elusive for her.
As one, they turned and leisurely made their way to the campsite in a silence that was both companionable and intimate.
Morning sunlight poured through the dust-coated window on the barn’s east side. Particles of hay and motes danced in its slanting rays. Dulcie ran through its path on her way to the closed stall, drawn by her brother’
s muttered curses coming from it. She climbed onto the partition and looked inside.
There was Tobe, crouching behind the milk cow, doing something to its hind feet while the orphaned calf butted its head against the cow’s swollen udder and rapidly swished its black tail back and forth.
“What’re you doing, Tobe?” Dulcie leaned over the top of the stall, trying to see.
“Taking off these hobbles, what does it look like?” he grumbled irritably.
“Why’re you doing that?”
“To see if old Susie’ll let this calf suckle without raising a fuss, that’s why.” He freed the last strap and stood up, slinging the hobbles over his shoulder.
“Aren’t you going to milk her?” Dulcie looked but there was no sign of either the pail or the milk stool.
“Nope.” Tobe moved to the cow’s head and untied the rope he’d used to snub the cow to the manger, then stepped back to watch.
Dulcie pondered that for all of two seconds. “Why?”
“Because,” he began as the cow buried her broad nose in the grain mounded in the feed box and paid no attention to the greedily suckling calf, “if she’ll let this calf suck, then I won’t have to milk her and we can go look for the gold.”
When the full meaning of his words sunk in, Dulcie gasped in delight. “I get to go, too?!”
“What other choice do I have?” he mumbled, then lifted his head, catching the sound of a vehicle pulling into the ranch yard. “I think we’ve got company. Go see who it is.”
With alacrity, Dulcie jumped off the partition and ran to the open barn door. One glimpse of the patrol car with a light bar fastened to its roof, and she raced back to the stall.
“It’s the police, Tobe.”
“The police?” He frowned in surprise. “What do they want?”
Puzzled and curious, he vaulted over the side of the stall and headed outside, with Dulcie following as closely as his shadow. Tobe spied a uniformed officer climbing the steps to the trailer door.
“It looks like Beauchamp,” he said absently, then cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, “hey, Sheriff!”
The man turned, looked, then raised a hand in acknowledgment and headed back down the steps. Tobe struck out from the barn to meet him.
“Mornin’, Sheriff. What brings you out our way this morning?”
Beauchamp’s gaze strayed to the camper. “I understand Miss Sommers is staying here. Is that her camper?” He flicked a finger in its direction.
“Yeah, but she’s not here.”
“Do you know where I can find her? I need to talk to her.”
Tobe hesitated over how he should answer that. “Luke took her camping out in Buell’s Basin,” he said, then added, “Dulcie and me were about to head that way ourselves. We could take a message to her, if you like.”
“Please,” Beauchamp agreed. “Tell her I need to speak to her as soon as possible. It’s important.”
“I’ll do it,” Tobe promised.
After hauling water from the stream, Angie poured it onto the still-hot embers of the morning’s campfire, then gave the collapsible canvas bucket to Fargo to stow in one of the packs. Luke watched as she shoveled a layer of dirt over the coals.
Almost from the moment Angie had emerged from her tent, Fargo had been within earshot. Luke hadn’t had a single chance to exchange a private word with her. Last night had changed a lot of things; permanently, Luke suspected—at least for himself—and maybe for Angie, too, judging by the awareness that was in her look every time their eyes met. Truthfully, Luke didn’t know what he wanted to say to her except that he hoped this treasure hunt of hers took a helluva lot longer than two weeks.
With the ball cap pulled low on her forehead, Angie turned back and surveyed the smothered campfire. “That should do it,” she declared and stowed the compact shovel on one of the packsaddles.
Luke glanced at Fargo. “All set?”
Taking his action as a signal, Angie gathered up the roan’s trailing reins, hopped a foot into the stirrup, and swung onto the saddle, eager to be off now.
Luke tossed a glance at the sun when he mounted. “We’re getting a later start than I expected.”
“It’s not all that late,” Angie responded. “For a lot of people, this would be the shank of the morning. Not everybody gets up at dawn, you know.”
“They’re missing the best part of the day then.” Luke grinned and reined his horse away from the camp, aiming toward the west. Touching a heel to its side, he sent his mount forward at a shuffling trot.
“Some might argue that point,” Angie chided lightly when she drew alongside him.
Again, Fargo intruded on their conversation before it had a chance to become personal. “How come we’re goin’ this way? I thought we were gonna’ check out the other pillar.”
“There’s been a change in plans,” Luke replied over his shoulder. “Angie’s decided it’s supposed to be the morning shadow instead of the afternoon.”
Fargo grumbled something and fell silent.
Within minutes their shadows merged with the one cast by the pillar. It stretched before them like an arrow on the ground, its tip pointing toward the mouth of the canyon. Its length receded with the slow rising of the sun. They rode out of its path before they reached the entrance itself.
Angie experienced a tingle of excitement when she saw the tall rock face that formed much of the canyon’s left wall. All along it, there were formations that jutted from it, some large, some small.
Fargo urged his horse alongside theirs, drawing the packhorses with him. “What are we lookin’ for now?”
“A campsite with water close by, and a rock in the shape of an eagle,” Luke replied.
“You’re sure it’s an eagle, now?” Fargo mocked dryly. “You ain’t gonna change your mind later on and say it’s supposed to look like a swan or a stork or somethin’?”
The challenging skepticism in his voice drew a smile from Angie. “It’s definitely an eagle,” she assured him.
“Long as you’re sure.” With a wad of tobacco bulging out his left cheek, Fargo talked out of the other side of his mouth. “I don’t wanna be wastin’ my time lookin’ for somethin’ that ain’t there.”
“Why don’t you scout out a campsite while we do the looking?” Luke suggested.
As Fargo formed a reply, the boom of a rifle shot shattered the midmorning stillness. Luke immediately reined in and swung his horse around, an alertness gripping him. Before the echo of the first shot faded, there was a second one, followed by a third after a similar interval.
“That’s no hunter,” Luke concluded and reached for the rifle he carried in the leather saddle scabbard. “That’s a signal.”
“Tobe, you think?” Fargo speculated, cocking a bushy eyebrow.
“It’s either him or someone in trouble.” He shoved a bullet in the chamber, pointed the muzzle skyward, and fired an answering signal, then pushed the rifle back in its scabbard and fastened the flap. “Let’s go.”
At a canter, they rode back to the mouth of the canyon. Luke’s searching gaze quickly spotted a rider coming off the slope into the valley. He pulled up, the bay horse shifting restively beneath him, stimulated by the fast canter. Standing in the stirrups, Luke waved his hat over his head and whistled shrilly, drawing the rider’s attention.
“That’s Tobe, all right,” Fargo stated, certain of the identity even at this distance. “Wonder what he wants?”
Luke dismissed the question. “We’ll know soon enough.” At the touch of a spur, the eager bay jumped forward as Luke rode to meet the pair.
Chapter Twenty
Angie was relieved to see a pair of small, slender arms wrapped tightly around Tobe’s middle. Reassured that Dulcie hadn’t been left alone at the ranch, she refused to guess. The bald-faced roan detected her tension and sidestepped nervously, tossing its head.
“What’s the problem?” Luke frowned at Tobe.
“It’s not a problem, exactly,” Tobe
answered with a glance at Angie. “The sheriff came by the ranch this morning to see Angie. When I told him that you had taken her camping, he asked me to deliver a message. So I trailered the horse as far as I could and rode the rest of the way.” At that moment Tobe noticed the tall finger rock that towered atop the knoll to his left.
“What was the message, Tobe?” Angie prompted.
But the question didn’t register. Tobe was too busy gawking at the stone pillar. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he said with awe.
“The message, Tobe,” Luke said in mild exasperation.
“What?” Tobe gave him a blank look, then comprehension dawned. “Oh yeah, the sheriff wants her to call him as soon as she can. He said it was important.”
“The lab tests probably came back,” Angie guessed.
“Sounds like it,” Luke agreed and switched his attention back to Tobe. “You’d better head on back to the ranch. You’ve got evening chores to do.”
“But—” Tobe scowled in protest.
“No buts. Get movin’,” Luke ordered.
Tobe glared at Luke a second longer, then jerked his horse around and pointed it back the way they had come. He jammed his heels in the horse and it leaped forward with Dulcie hanging on for dear life.
Amber juice arced from Fargo’s mouth, putting a punctuation mark to Tobe’s departure. “If you plan on lookin’ for that eagle rock today, we’d best be headin’ back to the canyon.” Fargo gave a tug on the rope to the packhorses before he reined his mount around. In silence they all rode back to the canyon.
A dozen yards inside the entrance, Fargo split away to locate a campsite. He crossed a dry wash that in early spring carried the runoff from mountain rains and snowmelt. Except for pockets of mud, it was mostly dry. He didn’t bother to look for any lingering pools of water; he had another place in mind—a spring-fed seep half hidden in a hollowed-out section of ground some distance from the coulee and closer to the canyon’s left wall.
