Texas Gothic

by Rosemary Clement-Moore

  Frying pan. Fire.

  I needed to get out of there before Boots and Truck came back. I scrambled up the slope, my head throbbing so hard that my vision wavered like a mirage.

  The men had passed the gully, and they would come across Stella any minute. No way to hide a blue Mini Cooper in sage and sand country. I had to take my chance now, hoping they wouldn’t glance back the way they’d come until I was out of sight.

  I clambered up and over the hill, running for the diesel truck, praying for all I was worth that the driver had left the keys in it.

  Crap!

  Not only had he taken the keys, he’d locked the door. I whispered a few more frustrated curses. My head felt like the sprint had split it open. My vision was so blurred, I could barely read the letters on the box in the passenger seat. But my subconscious spoke up and said it was important, so I steadied myself against the truck, shaded my eyes, and squinted as hard as I could.

  BLASTING CAPS.

  Whoa.

  Blasting caps. Mining. Gold mine. Dumb and Dumber weren’t so far off at all. Someone else was looking for—had found—the lost gold mine already.

  I stumbled back and looked at the truck. I knew it, and not just by sound. It belonged to Steve Sparks, the ranch manager.

  When my luck ran out, it ran out big-time. I heard running boots and whirled—oh God, bad idea—to face the two men. With my vision still spinning, it took me a second to recognize the bulldog face under an equally familiar ball cap with “Something Mining and Drilling Company” on the front.

  Mike Kelly. Of course he would have known the right rumor to spread to hide their treasure hunt in the pasture. And he knew the land, probably better than anyone.

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” said Mike Kelly. “Can no one keep this kid out of here?”

  I didn’t even try for a riposte. I was so nauseated, the wittiest thing I’d be able to manage was barfing. I just turned like a cornered animal and ran the other way.

  Steve Sparks caught up to me before I could focus my eyes on escape. Even after I’d recognized his truck, I hadn’t believed it was him. Mrs. McCulloch thought he was a nice guy. A loyal guy. No one trusted a Kelly, but the McCullochs trusted Steve Sparks.

  And then biting fear took hold of me, because I realized I was probably never going to have a chance to warn them.

  “Dammit, kid.” Sparks actually looked regretful. “I was hoping this wouldn’t have to happen.”

  I knew “this” was going to be bad. He grabbed me, and the pain in my head gave me an idea. I let myself go limp. His hold loosened in surprise, and I slid from his grasp to land in a boneless heap on the sand.

  I lay still and faked unconsciousness. It wasn’t much of a stretch; their voices seemed to float from far away.

  “Damn, Steve! What did you do?”

  “Nothing.” I heard him bend close and prayed the tripping of my pulse or my quick, terrified breaths wouldn’t give me away.

  Steve Sparks gave an incredulous huff, almost a laugh. “You’re not going to believe this, Mike. Someone already hit her on the head.”

  “I doubt it was the Mad Monk.” Mike Kelly sounded grim. “I guess hitting her again would look suspicious.”

  “More suspicious than a ghost hitting her once?” asked Sparks.

  “We could put her in her car, run it into the cliff, but the bump’s on the back, not the front.” Something in Steve’s expression must have made Mike add, “Come on. It was only a matter of time before the Mad Monk had a fatality. And everyone knows she can’t keep on her own side of the fence. My brother has been griping about it for days.”

  I stiffened on the ground, unable to stay limp as fear burned through me. How could this be real? Ghosts and magic were nothing compared to these yahoos having a cold-blooded discussion on the best way to kill me.

  “It’s just …” Sparks was wavering. “A big step.”

  I heard it before they did—the rumble of truck tires over stony ground. My heart gave an almost painful leap of hope.

  “Hell,” said Mike Kelly. “What now? When did this turn into Main Street?”

  Sparks walked away a bit, I supposed to take a look over the hill that hid his truck from view from the road. He wasn’t gone long enough for me to think of jumping Mike, and when he came back, his voice was strained. “It’s Ben.”

  Yes, Ben!

  And then I heard Mike Kelly inhale. An anxious breath of anticipation and excitement. A fiendish inspiration.

  He had something planned for Ben. My heart beat so hard, I couldn’t believe they didn’t hear it. Ben was driving right into a trap, and I didn’t know how to warn him.

  “Listen,” said Steve, and something in his voice made me think he’d realized the same thing I had. “You hide, with the girl. I can bluff through this.”

  “What if she called him?” Mike didn’t sound worried at all, but as excited as if he’d been handed a birthday present. “We need to get rid of him, too.”

  “I can handle this, Mike. I’ve done it before. I’ve got every reason to be here.”

  “Don’t get squeamish. With him gone, Helen McCulloch will turn to you to run things, and you can suggest she sell this land back to me. Or hell, marry the grieving widow, then you sell me the land.”

  I didn’t think I had any room inside me for one more emotion, but indignation managed to squeeze in with the others. I was sure it was Kelly who had hit Mac the night before, and the only thing that surprised me now was that he hadn’t killed him. Maybe he’d tried but hadn’t been able to get down the ravine.

  Steve hesitated long enough for me to know he was thinking about what Mike Kelly had said. And if he could think about it, he could do it. Or at least stand by and watch it be done.

  As soon as Ben rounded the hill, he would see Steve’s truck and it would be too late for them to hide me. Steve would have to go along with Mike’s plan or give up and go to jail. I was not taking bets on that.

  With a burst of energy I didn’t think I had, I rolled under the diesel truck and out the other side. My head seemed to keep moving after my body stopped, but I couldn’t spare the time to be sick. I pushed myself upright, swallowing the bile that rose in the back of my throat.

  Surprise had given me a precious head start. I staggered to my feet and ran.

  The pounding of my steps was like a hammer to my skull. In the corner of my eye, I saw Ben’s truck, and his stunned face through the windshield. My goal wasn’t to get to Ben, but alert him to danger by my wounded-gazelle-like flight across the pasture. I wasn’t worried about myself. I didn’t consider the possibility that either of the men could catch me. I was all-star varsity soccer. I was Braveheart in Urban Outfitters. I was Supergirl.

  I was seriously delusional.

  Steve Sparks did catch me. Didn’t even have to hit me on the head. The jarring stop rattled my bruised brain, and I slid into genuine, dark, dismal unconsciousness, seriously wishing I hadn’t compared myself to William Wallace, who had met such a very sticky end.

  38

  this time I woke up cold, not hot, and not moving. At least, I tried to convince my stomach of that. I cracked open one eyelid, then the other, and my vision was filled with Ben McCulloch, lying on his side facing me, and looking like hell.

  I’m not sure what alerted him to my waking, but he asked, “Are you okay?”

  Swallowing first, I managed to croak, “That’s a hell of a question from a guy who looks like he went two rounds in a cage match.”

  He smiled ruefully, then winced as the motion pulled at his split lip. “Have you ever been to a cage match?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “I don’t look that bad.”

  But he did look bad. Awful and wonderful and frustrating. His lip was swollen and split, and so was the bridge of his nose. There was blood all over his face and his cheek was bruised, and he was going to have a black eye soon, too.

  “Where are we?” I tried to lift my head to lo
ok, but it was so heavy, I left it down for a little while longer.

  “A cave.” He paused and corrected himself. “A mine, I guess. Twenty-first-century claim jumpers. It really is a plot out of a movie. They’ve been blasting small sections, trying to follow a vein of ore. That was the sound we kept hearing.”

  “Gold?” That motivated me to sit up. Or work at it, anyway. My head still pounded, but my stomach seemed willing to behave.

  Ben rolled over on to his back with a groan. “Don’t be greedy, Amaryllis.”

  “Ben, this could be Los Almagres. The lost Spanish mine.”

  He chuckled, then winced. “It would serve that bastard Mike Kelly right. Your Mad Monk’s expedition might not have made it back to Mexico with a report, but others did. Los Almagres was abandoned because they never found anything worth the trouble of refining.”

  A chill eddied through the chamber. “Don’t call him that,” I whispered.

  Pushing himself up onto his elbow, he looked at me closely. “ ‘Your’ ghost?”

  “The Mad Monk. He’s not a monk.”

  “But the madness is debatable?”

  The nape of my neck prickled under my hair, and I snapped, “Ben!”

  He sat up too abruptly but didn’t pause to moan about it. “Amy, it’s just …” He stumbled over saying it aloud. “… a spirit. You’re a person. You’re the one in control.”

  I stared at him, baffled. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I’ve met you, moron.”

  Warmth chased away the chill. A blush, and a memory that had no business intruding now.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “And why didn’t you get away while you could? I had the sense to run, so who’s the moron?”

  “Phin called me.”

  I struggled to process that simple phrase. “Phin called you,” I clarified. “And you just … came? Without any proof?”

  He shifted, as if uncomfortable with the reminder of our argument. “The proof was in her voice. She said I would know where you were, because it was dark and underground. I immediately thought of your bat cave. I was on my way there when I saw you sprinting across the pasture.”

  A horrible thought shuddered through me. “Phin’s not coming here, is she?”

  “No. Well, yes, but she and Mark went to contact the state troopers. She said Grandpa Mac told her never to trust a Kelly.”

  The shudder broadened to shake my whole, aching body. “Speaking of Kelly …”

  “And Sparks. God, I can’t believe I trusted him. My whole family did.”

  “Where are they?”

  Sobering from his ire, Ben avoided my gaze, so I knew it wasn’t someplace good. “They’re going to park my truck at your house. Then I believe the plan is …”

  “To flip Stella into a ravine with us in her.” I looked around the cavern, which was fairly bare. I couldn’t see any sunlight from the cave mouth, and the slope up was hidden in darkness. “Are we trapped?”

  “They put something over the opening and then parked a truck on it. They’ve got their routine down.”

  “Not to be flippant about it or anything, but I wonder why they didn’t just, you know.” I mimed hitting myself over the head. “Cosh us before they left.”

  “How should I know?” he snapped. “Maybe they’re worried about time of death. Everyone knows about those things now, thanks to television.”

  I snorted to hear him echoing Emery, and then shivered as the barrier of unreality crumbled. This was my time of death we were talking about. Mine and Ben’s.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  Eyes closed, I nodded, and heard him slide over on the stone floor. A moment later he wrapped me in his arms from behind, pulling me tight against his chest. His body heat seeped into me, and his breath warmed my neck. Even under the circumstances, it was a nice way to hear him murmur, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what? I mean, for what lately?” I twisted to look at his battered face. “Do not say ‘for getting us killed.’ ”

  He raised his brows carefully. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “Because we’re not going to get killed,” I asserted.

  “Or,” he contended, “because that’s not my fault.” Then he rubbed his hands on my bare arms, chafing away the goose bumps. “And because we’re not going to get killed.”

  “Right.” After a moment I melted back against him. “Then what are you sorry for?”

  He took his time to answer, but we weren’t going anywhere. “From way back at the beginning, I blamed things on your aunt that I shouldn’t have. And this morning … I was really unfair.”

  “You were a jerk.”

  This time he agreed without hesitation. “I was a jerk. But …” He paused, and I wondered if this was just another version of the same send-off. “Your life, Amy … it’s a lot to take in. And very chaotic.”

  “There are rules,” I said. “And before now I’ve always been able to keep things contained. Magic world, non-magic world. You’ve just met me right at the moment that everything sort of … broke loose.”

  “Then I was doubly a jerk for taking my frustration out on you. And for not understanding when you said you were following up the Mad Monk legend. If I hadn’t argued, maybe we wouldn’t be here.”

  “Oh my God.” I sat up and twisted again to face him. “You’re apologizing because you think we’re going to die.”

  He stared at me. “What?”

  “You want to die with a clear conscience.”

  “Amy,” he said, “I don’t want to die at all.”

  I looked him right in the eye. “What if Phin and Mark don’t get here with the troopers in time? Do you think Sparks and Kelly are really capable of going through with their plan?”

  His hand came up to gingerly touch the bruise on his cheekbone. “Mike Kelly would.” He said it with certainty, and I wondered what other bruises he had that didn’t show. Someone—a Kelly, I guessed, from his answer—had really worked him over.

  “We have to get out of here.” I didn’t know what made me say it with such force, or why the awful feeling of being trapped and waiting for rescue had turned to the worse feeling of being trapped and waiting to get thrown off a ravine to my death. Other than the rational fear of that, of course. Some sureness was coiling tight in my chest, and I didn’t question it.

  Ben dropped his hands to his knees, ready for any suggestion. “If you’ve got some spell for lifting a half ton of truck, I won’t complain.”

  I chewed on my lip, thinking hard. “Phin could probably magically MacGyver something, but that’s not my thing.”

  “What is your thing?”

  “Ghosts.” Saying it aloud seemed to solidify something in my mind. It felt real and tangible. True.

  “That’s not particularly helpful in this situation,” said Ben, harshing my moment of self-actualization. “Unless your ghost can lift a half-ton truck.”

  “Maybe it can.” I didn’t know. Believing one thing had just left me with more questions. “I do know it’s warned me twice about danger,” I told him. “I mean, it nearly froze me to death, but it kept Sparks from finding me the other night.”

  Cuidado. I could almost hear the ghost now. Was that why I was so certain we couldn’t wait on Phin to bring the authorities?

  “I’m going to call it.” The idea was on my lips before it had fully formed in my brain. “Maybe if it could warn me before it can help us now.”

  Ben raised his hands, as if holding me back. “Whoa. Didn’t you just say this thing nearly froze you to death?”

  “Yeah, it did, but I think I can control things now. You said it. I’m the human. This is my world, my rules.”

  “Amy, honey.” He rubbed my arm gently, as if telling me bad news. “You shouldn’t listen to me. I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.”

  I ignored him—because he was right—and stood, wobbling only slightly. Ben pushed himself to his feet using a stalactite. Or stalagmite. Th
e stone was all dry, which meant this wasn’t a living, growing cave, but stable. Or maybe not, if people were blowing holes in it.

  I found the knotted spot in my psyche that had looped tight the night of Aunt Hyacinth’s call, feeling the tug of the bond in that place deep inside. The place where you got hunches, where you dug down deep for courage.

  My head pounded with the effort I put into my thoughts—Come to me. Help me. If I don’t get out of here, I’ll never find you.

  Nothing happened. I opened my eyes, looked around for confirmation that all was still, that the air was cave-cool, not cold.

  This was going to suck if I failed in front of Ben. It was going to suck if I failed and died, but if Ben weren’t here, at least no one would know about it.

  He must have seen the doubt in my face. “You controlled it before. I saw you.”

  “Yeah.” The stabs of doubt faded to pinpricks.

  “Maybe you need to speak Spanish.”

  I didn’t quite groan. “Great. Señora Markowitz would be laughing now.”

  Shaking myself out, much like Daisy had done, I spread my fingers and toes, the flex of tendon and muscle sending warmth and energy to my extremities.

  “Venga aquí. Venga a mí. Ayúdame a encontrarle.” I hesitated a moment, then added, “Por favor.” Because politeness never hurt.

  Air currents swirled against my skin, a coolness on my flushed cheeks that stirred my hair and soothed my headache. The air swirled faster as I flexed my fingers again. Controlling the moment, but giving up my stubborn, fearful grip on the mundane world and giving in to the Goodnight one. Falling down the rabbit hole, and not worrying how I would get back out.

  The light was electric and white, not luminous and blue.

  “Turn off the lantern, Ben.”

  After the smallest hesitation, he did as I asked. In the utter blackness, the current strengthened. Icy fingers lifted my hair, and steam collected in front of my mouth. I could see it in the faint glow coming from deeper in the cavern.

  Búscame …

  The word breathed through my mind.

  I felt for Ben’s hand and held tight. “I think we need to go that way.”