The man guarding the door opened it. She tried to scream, but her voice was only a whimper. “Wait. She stumbled, grabbed the wall for support. “Give me my journal.”
Growling, Ripley jumped up on Hendrix and bit into his arm, shaking him like a toy, forcing him to drop the journal. He screamed and kicked Ripley. The gunman brought his gun down on Ripley’s skull, and she dropped to the floor, her head bleeding.
It all happened too fast.
Hendrix snatched up the journal and both men hurried from the room. “We’ve got to get this to Mudge in Caǹon City.” The door slammed behind them.
The room swirled around her, the light dimmed. She reached out, almost blindly, for something to support her—the wall, a chair, anything—nothing. She dropped to her knees, crawled to Ripley, and held her head in her lap.
She dug at her blouse to reach her brooch. “I have something more valuable,” she cried, breathy to the point of hyperventilating. “Don’t take my journal.”
Oh Christ she couldn’t breathe. Her lips were open, but no air would draw into her fear-frozen lungs. The harder she tried, the more scared she became. Her nails clawed at her throat, at her collar, seeking just a little room to breathe. She was going to suffocate. She closed her eyes, holding Ripley in her lap. Her hand stayed on her chest, feeling the slow beat of her heart beneath her spread fingers.
“Don’t die, Ripley. Noah can’t lose us both.”
42
1878 Morrison, Colorado—Rick
Rick entered the stable at the Spotswood Stage Coach House and Livery to return the buckboard and rent two horses for a short ride up the hogback. A section of the barn had been partitioned into an office. A battered wooden desk faced the entrance, a swivel chair positioned to see the comings and goings of horses, mules, wagons, and men. Pieces of tack lay tossed in the corners and hung on walls. Nearly motionless dust motes hung in the air.
He paid in advance for the rentals and while waiting for his change, asked the owner, “Do you know Dr. Lakes, the geologist?”
The four legs of Mr. Spotswood’s swivel chair splayed out from a central stanchion. He used his boot to push against one of the legs until it tilted back far enough that gravity threatened to upend him. Rick stood close by, prepared to pick him up off the floor.
“Sure do,” he said. “Lakes has been coming to town since early last year. Didn’t think much of him wandering around the hills until he pulled out wheelbarrows of those big bones. The entire town got excited then.”
“Do you know where he’s working? My…son has read about him. It’ll make me out to be a hero if I can find Dr. Lakes today.” Rick brushed a knuckle across the bridge of his nose, afraid the hundred lies he’d told in the last two weeks had morphed his nose into one similar to Cyrano de Bergerac.
Mr. Spotswood shot a glance out the window toward the corral where Noah was waiting with the rental horses. “I’ve got a boy about his age. Dr. Lakes was here a few days ago. He needed a wagon to carry some crates to the train.” Spotswood tugged on his chin thoughtfully. “If I recall correctly, he said he’d be working a couple of miles from town about midway up the hogback.”
“We’ll look there,” Rick said. “Appreciate your help.”
Noah was standing between an Appaloosa and a piebald, picking stray burrs from the Appaloosa’s forelock. When he saw Rick walking toward him, he asked, “What’d you find out? Is Dr. Lakes nearby?”
Rick jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “About two miles up Hogback Road.”
“That’s good news. Are we ready to leave now?”
“The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back for Amber.”
“Which horse do you want?”
Rick made a gesture to indicate it didn’t matter, so Noah swung into the Appaloosa’s saddle and spurred his horse out of the stable yard. Rick freed the piebald’s reins from the hitching post, put his foot in the stirrup, and heaved himself into the saddle. He wasn’t the best equestrian in the family of wannabe horsemen, but he could hold his own. The piebald didn’t seem to mind a new rider and promptly pointed his nose toward the Appaloosa several yards ahead.
Rick spurred the piebald to catch up with Noah. “We’ll ride along Hogback Road to see if we can find him. If we don’t, we’ll ride to the end where Amber marked the Dakota Ridge Trail on her sketch. We’ll check that out, then circle back.”
“Let’s ride fast,” Noah suggested.
“Be careful, Noah. If you fall again, you might end up with a broken bone or worse.” It was bad enough that the under-fifteen-year-olds in the family could outride Rick, he didn’t want to be shown up by another one.
Luckily for him, the piebald showed puppy-like devotion and understood verbal communication. He was a perfect horse for an inexperienced rider and responded not only to bit and spurs but seemed to sense Rick’s mood as well. His body was tense with worry about Amber. Not just her illness, though that was his biggest concern, but he didn’t know what she was going to do about Daniel and Noah. If she went home without them, her heart would remain broken for a long time.
After twenty minutes or so, Noah reined in and glanced behind him.
“Why do you keep looking back?” Rick asked. “Do you think someone’s following us?”
“I was just checking the view,” Noah said.
Rick used the break to remove a cigar from a slim silver case he’d purchased in Leadville. He struck a match against his thigh and waved it in front of the tip. “I’m glad Ripley wanted to stay with Amber.” After a few gentle puffs, the cigar started glowing cherry red. “This would have been a long walk for her.”
“I know, but I still miss her.”
Rick rolled the cigar between his fingers. “I was worried about leaving Amber there alone, but knowing Ripley’s with her—”
“She won’t let anything happen to Amber.”
Rick watched the hot cigar smoke as if he could divine hidden meaning in the way the plume curled as it rose into the cooler air. “You know, I had a dog like Ripley once. She was a good companion for me and my brothers.”
“Do you have one now?”
“Yep. I still have all three of my brothers.”
Noah cackled. “I know you have a brother, but I didn’t know you had three. I meant do you have a dog.”
“We share one with other family members. His name is Tater Tot, and he’s a Standard Poodle. Do you know what they look like?”
Noah shook his head.
“He has a medium-sized frame with a rounded skull, a long head, dark oval eyes, close-hanging ears, springy step, and a curly coat, and is one of the smartest dogs around.”
Noah touched the horse with his heels and brought his wandering mount back on the trail, and he and Rick rode side by side. “I bet he’s not as smart as Ripley.”
“Are you kidding? Nobody is as smart as Ripley,” Rick said.
About two miles outside of town, they spotted a handful of men working about two hundred feet above the Bear Creek. “Do you think that’s Dr. Lakes?” Noah asked.
“We’re in the right spot. Let’s leave the horses here, walk up the hill, and ask.”
They hobbled their horses in an area sheltered in a copse of scraggly firs. Noah grabbed his knapsack and canteen and they hiked up the sloping cliff through scrub brush and rocks.
“Amber couldn’t have hiked up here,” Noah said.
Rick looked up, following the cries of hawks rearing their young in inaccessible holes on the side of the cliff. There was something about the starkness that reminded him of Afghanistan. He became instantly alarmed that he had no sidearm. He considered returning to the horses to retrieve a gun from his saddlebag, but he didn’t want to hike down, hike back up, and then hike back down again if Lakes wasn’t on site.
“Look, Rick.” Noah pointed ahead. “See the brick-red marls and shales and variegated limestone? Those are the best lime quarries. At least that’s what a note in Amber’s journal said. I don’t really understand it all, but she does. That�
�s where they’re digging.”
“Did Amber sketch a picture of Lakes in her journal?”
“No, but he’s from England, so he’ll have an accent.”
They approached the group of diggers working in a trench about thirty feet long, fifteen feet deep, and ten feet wide. “We’re looking for Dr. Lakes. Is he here?” Rick asked.
“I’m Lakes,” a man with a British accent said.
Rick extended his hand, but it was ignored by Lakes as he picked up the handles of a wheelbarrow. Rick tried to be nonchalant and made a dismissive wave. “Noah and I would like to invite you to town for lunch.”
Lakes pushed the fossil-filled wheelbarrow over to another section of the dig where a member of the team was packing bones carefully into a crate.
Noah followed him. “Will you join us?”
“I have a can of oysters that’ll see me through till dinner at camp.”
“If you won’t come with us, would you mind answering questions about geology and Jurassic era dinosaurs?”
“Sure. But talk loud.”
Noah stepped up close to the doctor and shouted, “I heard you were about a mile from here when you found the first fossil. Will you tell me about it?”
“You don’t need to talk that loud.” Lakes lifted his hat, wiped his brow with his sleeve, and resettled the hat. “I was standing in the middle of yellow, brown, and gray sandstone like a battlement of a fortress defending the slope of the hill. We were standing at an angle about fifty to sixty degrees. Captain Beckwith over there”—Dr. Lakes pointed to a man sitting on a rock writing in a notebook—“called me over to examine what looked like a fossil or a branch of a tree compressed in a loose slab of sandstone. We’d found trunks and branches of petrified trees in the rocks capping the summit of the hogback before, so I wasn’t surprised at this discovery. But the impression was too smooth to be have been left by a tree. Then I spotted the little patches of purplish hue on the ends and knew they were fragments of bone. A large bone that belonged to a gigantic animal. The question was, where was the rest of him?”
“And that was part of a Stegosaurus?”
“The bones found here became the holotype of Stegosaurus armatus. Dr. Marsh believes the remains are from an aquatic turtle-like animal.”
“What do you believe?” Noah asked.
“That we found the skeleton of a monster. We boxed and shipped nearly a ton’s weight of bones to Dr. Marsh at Yale. He later informed us that our discoveries were dinosaurs of a new and gigantic species. We were ecstatic.”
Dr. Lakes demonstrated how to hoe the top soil, sift through it, and collect tiny bits of bone. Then after a short while, Noah’s hand cramped and Rick took over note-taking responsibilities. His sketches were lousy but identifiable.
Noah and the doctor sallied out among the stratified sandstone that rose tier upon tier on the flanks of the mountain to explore caves and crevices. He told the doctor about Amber’s interest in his work and how that had encouraged his own interest. He peppered the doctor with questions, and when Lakes answered one, Noah thought of six more.
Noah matured by the minute. Dr. Lakes, realizing he had an unusual student, went from a general to a more specific geology lecture. Rick was fascinated by Noah’s intelligence and understanding of the subject matter. He couldn’t wait to report back to Amber about her protégé.
About an hour later, Dr. Lakes announced, “It’s lunch time. If you’ll give me thirty minutes to wash up at camp, I’ll meet you in town. You can buy me a late lunch, and we’ll review today’s lesson and I’ll answer any more questions you have.”
Noah glanced up at Rick, silently asking if that would be okay.
“We’re staying at the Swiss Cottage,” Rick said. “Shall we meet in the dining room at one o’clock?”
“One it is.” Dr. Lakes patted Noah’s shoulder. “You’re a good student. I look forward to meeting your Miss Amber.”
Noah seemed humbled by the doctor’s praise.
They walked down the slope together and parted ways where the horses had been hobbled. Rick and Noah mounted up, reined around, and trotted down the road. As they neared Morrison, Noah said, “I hope with all that talk of rocks, I’ll have something new to tell Amber.”
Rick laughed. “I just thought a rock was a rock. I was proud of you, Noah. You sure did surprise Dr. Lakes. He thought he’d answer one question and get back to work, but you changed his mind quickly. He wanted to teach you everything he knew. He was impressed.”
“He was easy to talk to. Amber is, too, but she holds back. Like she’s afraid to tell me things. I thought it was because she didn’t think I’d understand. But that’s not it. Maybe now since Dr. Lakes trusts me with information, she’ll share more of what she knows.”
“I thought she shared a lot with you.”
“You can see it in her eyes that’s she’s holding back. Pa does that when I ask about Ma. He wants to tell me, but it hurts him.”
They arrived back in Morrison and rode straight to the hotel. Rick would return the horses before they caught the afternoon train to Denver. “We’ve barely got time to wash up before lunch. The train to Denver leaves at two-thirty.”
“I can’t wait to tell Amber. Do you think she’ll feel well enough to join us?”
“If she’s rested, maybe.”
When they walked through the lobby, Rick was stopped by a desk clerk with an oversize-handlebar mustache and fuzzy hair. He wasn’t the same clerk who checked them in.
“Mr. O’Grady. A moment, please. Room service delivered the luncheon tray but was unable to reclaim the dirty dishes. Miss Kelly didn’t answer the door.”
“How many times did you try?”
“Only once.”
Rick pursed his lips tightly, thinking. Could she have gone outside? “Did you try using your master key to get into the room?”
“When she didn’t answer the door, we tried but something was blocking it, and we couldn’t get in.”
Rick became immediately alarmed. “Did you go around and look in the window?”
“No. That would have been inappropriate.”
“If anything has happened to her, I’m holding you responsible.”
Rick never should have left her, regardless of the pressure she put on him. Living her dream was a dumb reason and he couldn’t believe he fell for it. This screw-up only magnified the canopy of guilt that hung over him like a mushroom cloud full of sad memories, mistakes, and bad decisions. Since his gut was already a raw nerve with edges of jagged glass shredding him in two, he might as well dump a few broken pieces on top of the clerk.
“Management will hear about your incompetence.”
There was a small almost imperceptible wince in the clerk’s eyes. “Forgive me, Mr. O’Grady.” His voice was soft now, almost a plea, and one side of his mustache drooped. “Is there anything I can do to make up for this oversight?”
Noah stepped between the clerk and Rick. “We’re meeting Dr. Lakes in the dining room in a few minutes. Would you please make a reservation for four?” Noah then took Rick’s hand and pulled him toward the steps. “We don’t have time to argue with that annoying little man.”
Rick looked down at the precocious pre-teen. “You’re not the same kid who came to Denver on the stagecoach the other day. What’d you do with that Noah Grant?”
“Since I met Amber, I’ve grown up. She doesn’t talk to me like I’m a child. And Pa and I have talked about things lately, too. Adult stuff you talk about in the parlor. It makes me feel older, more responsible.”
“I like the changes. Come on. Let’s go check on Amber and find out what’s blocking the door.”
“Maybe she put a chair there so nobody could come in and bother her while she was napping.”
They hurried up the stairs. When Rick inserted the key to unlock the door, it found it already unlocked. He tried to push it open, but whatever had been blocking the door before was still there.
“Amber.” She didn’t
answer, and Ripley didn’t bark. Rick’s heart was in his throat. He tried to squeeze his head between the door and the frame but there wasn’t enough room. “Noah, see if you can tell why the door won’t open.”
He stepped aside to give Noah room to try. Rick caught the faintest quiver of fear in him, but Noah squared his narrow shoulders despite it and squeezed his head through the opening.
“What do you see?” Rick’s own fear ratcheted up several more notches.
“Amber’s on the floor.”
An image of Amber huddled on the floor plastered itself at the forefront of Rick’s brain.
“So is Ripley.”
Rick’s mouth dried up and panic grabbed a foothold in a pocket of fear.
“Ripley’s head is bleeding. She’s not moving.” Noah’s voice was oddly thick like someone with a plugged nose.
Cold sweat streamed between Rick’s shoulder blades.
“Amber’s not moving. Ripley’s blocking the door.”
Almost incapacitating fear had control of Rick now.
Noah withdrew his head, his face as white as a freshly laundered shirt. “I’ll go around and come through the window.”
Rick had to punch himself in the chest to restart his heart. He wasn’t in a war zone. Mortars weren’t going off around him. Gun fire wasn’t being sprayed in all directions. “Stay here.” If either of them was dead, he needed to know first and find a way to prepare Noah before he entered the room.
Rick dropped his saddlebags, ran down to the second-floor lobby, and pushed through the door to the balcony. Amber was in the corner room. He ran along the widow’s walk until he reached the last window. He looked in. “Amber.” She was lying on the floor with Ripley’s head on her leg. He jerked up the window and jumped through.
Noah’s head was still between the door and the frame, watching what was happening, tears streaming down his cheeks. Rick dashed across the room. Amber was gasping, grabbing her throat. Her face was the color of the lace on her blouse. Her eyes were barely open, and her lips were bluish.
His voice shaking, he said to Noah, “We’ve got to get her to the hospital.”
The Amber Brooch: Time Travel Romance (The Celtic Brooch Book 8) Page 50
