Ladd Springs

by Dianne Venetta

  Chapter Ten

  Sitting on the edge of her bed, Delaney slipped the small camera into her backpack and zipped it closed, her fingers more jittery than she cared to think about. Pulse running on high speed, she chalked it up to adrenaline rush. She wasn’t kidding herself. Gathering photographic evidence could prove risky. But without it her word against Clem’s would be tossed aside like a cigarette butt. She needed to stake out a claim of her own—a witness claim.

  Rising, she flicked off the lights and headed out. Two water bottles, a granola bar and flashlight—she was prepared to wait the men out, if need be. She had no reason to believe they wouldn’t. Delaney’s instincts hummed. If she knew Clem, he’d loot that gold as fast as he could.

  And she had all day to get her proof. Felicity had stayed over at her girlfriend’s last night and planned to spend the day with them, which meant Delaney didn’t have to be home until supper time. Slinging the canvas pack over her shoulder, she walked toward her bedroom door and caught a glimpse of her reflection. She stopped, and zeroed in. She looked tense, edgy. The lines around her mouth were set hard, her eyes filled with trepidation. She looked worried. A half laugh escaped her lips and her heart thumped. She looked scared, is what she looked.

  Kicking her legs into motion, Delaney brushed the thought aside. There was no room for fear. No reason to fear. She knew these woods like the back of her hand, could travel trails and cliffs like a deer, warding off trouble with the barrel of her gun. When she wanted to be, Delaney could be as stealth and lethal as a rattler or as fierce as a mama bear. There was nothing to fear. Besides, she didn’t intend for them to see her. This mission was about her seeing them—photographing the men as proof for Ernie. And there was no better proof than a full-color image.

  Locking the door behind her, she went in pursuit of her mare.

  Sitting in the lobby of the town’s premier hotel, the lunch crowd thinning around him, Nick prepared to call his partner. Avoiding it any longer would only strain their relationship and that was a strain he didn’t need. Malcolm Ward was an integral part of his empire. Nick would need him to see this project through. An elegantly dressed brunette caught his eye as she walked by, her smile a shade too intimate for strangers. Pushing back against the cushion, he returned the gesture.

  Dialing Malcolm’s number, Nick ran through his options as he waited through several rings. He could begin the negotiating process for the land south of here, but it lacked the privacy of being bordered by the USFS. It had streams and rivers, but none of the springs. There was another piece up in Carolina he could look into but, although it had waterfalls and forest, it too lacked the added beauty of open meadows and of course, the natural springs.

  Serenity Springs was the spa he wanted to create, and that meant he needed Ladd land. According to local lore, the springs on the Ladd property were not only numerous, but said to be speckled with gold flecks. Gold flecks that sparkled in the crystal clear spring water when captured in a glass and held up to the sunlight. He grinned. Whether he believed the legend or not was irrelevant. Transforming the springs into wishing wells and refreshment spots along his Meditation Trail would pay tenfold what any glittery water amusement would do for him. He called them his contemplation spots, where guests could stop and enjoy a spectacular view or immerse themselves in the peace of solitude.

  As he was about to hang up the line, a voice shouted, “Nick—where’ve you been? I’ve been calling you for two days!”

  Pleased to hear the manic voice, he replied smoothly, “I’ve been scouting for property. What’s up?”

  “What’s up?” came the incredulous reply. “You were supposed to close this deal a week ago, that’s what’s up. What’s the delay?”

  “I ran into a couple of obstacles.” An ornery old man, a beautiful woman, and a darling young teenager—none of which mattered to Malcolm. His partner wanted results. “But I’m making progress.”

  “You better be. I’ve got investors breathing down my neck for information. They’re threatening to pull out—”

  “What? Why? If it’s not this property, it will be another.”

  “They have other prospects.”

  Other prospects? As soon as he thought it, Nick realized who he meant. He should have stayed away from Jillian Devane— CEO of Eco-Domani, his fiercest competitor in the eco-resort market and a woman with a vendetta deeper than money. Aggravation stirred in his gut. She was nothing but trouble. “How’s she courting them this time?”

  “Appalachian Gold.”

  Nick groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Wish I was, but she thinks she’s going to beat you to the punch.”

  Jillian was more than a beautiful woman. She was a brilliant hotelier, with a chain of hotels that rivaled any in the market—except his. When it came to innovative energy consumption, recycled building materials and straight up creative use of land and space, the designers at Harris Hotels consistently stayed one step ahead of Eco-Domani. They rocked the tourist industry with each and every hotel opening, and Jillian was more than envious. She was vindictive. They had an affair, but she’d wanted to take it one step further and combine their resources for an Eco-Domani/Harris hotel empire, solidifying the deal with marriage. But he’d refused and things got ugly. A rueful smile pulled at his lips. Things didn’t get really bad until he walked away from her body as well. A hot-blooded Latina from a wealthy family, nobody walked away from Jillian Devane. Nobody.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Nick said into the phone.

  “You better. I hear they’re working on a deal in the Smoky Mountains as we speak.”

  Plagued by the familiar mix of lust-filled admiration for the woman and his own gritty resolve, Nick vowed he would not be beat. Jillian would not lure his investors from this project. She would not open her doors before he did. He’d walked away from the fight once. He wouldn’t do so again. “Call Belinda and get her working on those drawings we discussed. Have her call me when she has some sketches. Tell her I’ll email some photos this afternoon.”

  “Will do.”

  Nick ended the call and wound his brain around the next step. Time for another visit to Ladd Springs.

  After securing Sadie at the trailhead, Delaney set out on the trail. It was warmer today, breezy in the field as she rode over, but air flow didn’t make it this far in. Here it was quiet, still. Dressed in her customary tank top, jeans and boots, she was comfortable. Her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, the length of it long and loose down her back. Trees were an assortment of dark trunks, narrow and thick. Leaves floated from branches and hovered high and low, reducing visibility to mountain walls and the expanse of the valley between. Delaney scanned the perimeter of green and brown, the spots dappled with light, but stopped suddenly. Was that a voice she heard?

  Standing completely still, she strained to listen. In the distance, she heard the low drum of waterfalls. Faint, but she recognized it. Her breathing grew shallow, her mind laser sharp. Other than that, there was nothing. Satisfied all was well, she slid the pack onto her back and continued forward, forcing herself to lighten her stride. No pounding—no branch breaking—she had to remain undetected. When she neared the location, she paused, and listened. She searched trees and brush for signs of movement. Nothing.

  Surveying the area around the trail, she found a winding path that went up a nearby slope. Gauging the angle, she decided it would provide her best vantage point. She’d be able to see them, but they shouldn’t be able to see her. Lifting a boot to a jutting rock, she scaled the steep incline and wedged herself between a rock and a tree stump, split in half by either lightning or old age. Settling in, she took out her camera, looped the strap around her neck and prepared to wait.

  An hour into her wait, she crumpled the granola wrapper and stuffed it back into her backpack. “Leave no trace behind” was her motto in the forest. Scrolling through the last of her emails, she heard them. Gripping the smartphone, she switched it to vibrate
and slipped it into a pocket of her backpack. She held her breath and watched the infamous duo advance. Their voices carried easily in the silence and she heard one tell the other, “I know, I got it.” He rummaged through the sack he carried and raised the small tool. It looked to be an axe or blunt-edged hoe of some kind. Anger welled. To steal more gold, no doubt.

  Delaney brought the camera to her face and peered through the viewfinder. Standard fare when it came to cameras, it lacked a powerful zoom, but would have to do. She toggled the tab to bring them into view as magnified as possible.

  They were plain looking. The big one hadn’t shaved, the smaller no need, scraggly tufts of hair clumped about his chin. He wore a hat and a ragged plaid shirt. The other had on a simple red shirt and both wore jeans. She clicked off a few shots, then drew the camera away for a direct look at the men. Lowlifes, to be sure. Neither looked like they had a brain cell to work from or a dime to their name—if the dirty clothes were any clue. Delaney moved position slightly to gain a better view. The thinner man wasted no time in wielding his axe against the rock.

  Chling, chling. The high-pitched sound carried through the trees. With each swing, Delaney seethed. How much were they taking? Were they doing so at Clem’s orders? Were they giving it to him? Taking it for their own?

  So many unanswered questions. So much she had to capture. She raised the camera to her eye. So far away. She snapped a few shots and analyzed them on the tiny screen. Zipping through them, she deemed none were clear enough, specific enough. Delaney looked up.

  She had to get closer.

  Setting a hand to the tree, she carefully eased her way out of position, one eye on the men as she felt her boots make contact with the ground. Gingerly she moved down the trail on her haunches. Obscured by a cluster of huge trees, their leaves and branches providing adequate coverage, she scoped the area for potential hiding places. The gold was on the opposite side of the rock. If she could make her way over to the far ledge, she might have a chance at getting a picture of them chipping away at the stone. Which is what she needed—proof they were stealing from Ladd property.

  Delaney treaded lightly up the trail, her back to the mountain behind her, staying vigilant for signs of detection. Though she was probably being overly cautious. The two fools were more concerned with their theft than getting caught. As she made her way higher, the trail curved downward, and below she noted a ditch of sorts. A ravine. A slow smile pulled at her lips. It would serve as the perfect cover in case of emergency.

  “Lookee here,” one of the men exclaimed.

  Delaney froze and looked to see what he meant.

  “That’s a big one,” replied the other.

  The smaller fellow was holding up what she had to assume was a gold nugget. Anger fired in her belly. She lifted camera to her eye and angled her body around the shelter of leaves to capture the best shot. She clicked, but the man leaned down, then stood up again. Peering through her camera lens, she tried to center the moving figure within her sights. Click, click, click. She did the best she could to get a good shot of his face.

  A branch cracked. Delaney ducked.

  Her pulse pounded as she searched the area. Where had the noise come from? Was it the men? The fall of a decayed branch?

  Neither of them seemed to pay the noise heed, continuing with their work. Their work! Stealing is what they were doing and she had a mind to stop them right now. Shoot the both of them and ask questions later. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t solve her problem. Clem Sweeney had to be stopped—sooner rather than later.

  Her only hope was to do so through these two.

  Lowering the camera, Delaney moved over a fallen tree trunk, careful not to step on a branch and bring attention to herself. While they hadn’t minded the last pop and crash, she didn’t want to chance it. Working her way closer until she was about ten yards from the men, she tucked herself away in the ditch, close enough to see their faces. Instinctively, she recorded them to memory. Thin build, pointed nose, jutting chin, jerky movements. Round face, bulbous nose, broad shoulders, curly black hair, definitely the one in charge. Delaney wondered where Clem knew them from, how he signed them on to this scheme of his. Holding the camera steady, the zoom feature maxed out, she snapped photos in rapid succession. The larger man drank from a Thermos. A familiar ringtone rose from her backpack.

  His hand froze. Her heart stopped. His head turned in her direction.

  As the country music tune continued to blare, Delaney didn’t move a muscle. Not her camera, not her hand. To do so would certainly reveal her position.

  Partially concealed by brush and trees overhead, she prayed he would not see her. The cell went to voice mail. The forest was quiet once again. But the men were not.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” asked the other.

  “That noise,” he said, visibly scanning the ridge where she was hiding.

  “Nah, I ain’t heard a thing. Now, c’mon. We got to hurry and get this gold out of here ‘fore Clem wonders where we are.”

  “Shhh—” he hushed loudly. “What are you trying to do—tell everyone what we’re doing?”

  He looked around, dumbfounded. “There ain’t no one here, but us Jeb.”

  The large man clamped a hand to the other’s mouth, whispering harshly to him.

  Delaney racked her brain for an escape. If she moved, they’d see her. If she stayed and they came looking for her, she’d be cornered. There was only one way out for her. The way she came in.

  Now on alert, the two men surveyed the woods. They looked toward the trail, upward of the mountain, checked the area behind them that lead to the USFS. Unsatisfied, the bigger man held a finger to the smaller and said something, directing him to move.

  The skinny man began to make his way through the brush.

  Delaney’s throat closed. Her limbs noodled. He was coming toward her.

  She slid a hand into her boot, closed it around the gun. If it was clear he was coming toward her, she would use it—in a heartbeat. With bated breath, she watched him push through branches and vine, clod hopping his way toward the narrow ledge where she was hiding. In instant decision, she knew. That’s it. Game over. Delaney stood and leveled her gun at him. “Stop right there.”

  His head yanked up.

  “Don’t take another step or I’ll shoot.”

  “Well lookee here,” he said in a grotesque purr and tipped back his ratty black hat. “We have a girl been watchin’ us.”

  The leader of the two shoved the nugget into his pocket and began to come toward them.

  “Stop,” she called out sternly. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

  “Get her!” the big one yelled and pulled a gun.

  The fellow hesitated, then lurched forward.

  She pulled the trigger, the shot echoing from its chamber, shattering the calm. He staggered back as another shot ricocheted off the tree behind her. Delaney’s heart exploded in her chest. She fired another shot, then took off running, wary of the man with the gun.

  “Get her!”

  “I been shot!” he howled.

  “I don’t care!” Abandoning his injured cohort, the bulky man chased her, clawing his way through the brush. Her mind raced, her heart thumped. The camera bounced against her chest in sharp jabs. She grabbed it as a second gunshot blasted the mountain beside her. Panic seized her. She couldn’t get shot! Couldn’t get caught!

  Glancing behind, she saw him struggling to negotiate the steep path up to trail level. Fear pushed her to run faster, put distance between them. Boots landing hard, Delaney worried she would trip, her heel catching on an exposed root—but she didn’t dare slow down.

  She could hear the man grumbling as he chased her.

  Camera clenched in her hand, arms swinging, Delaney found her rhythm. Her thoughts swerved toward Sadie. She ducked a branch. Estimated time and distance. She could outrun this man. She could make it to her horse and make her getaway. Her chest grew painfully winded. But if
he spotted them, a bullet would easily bring down her mare. The image of Sadie careening to the ground, crying out from a gunshot wound wrenched Delaney’s gut. She couldn’t put her horse in jeopardy. She needed a shortcut, a different path. A detour.

  “You’re a dead woman!” the man shouted from behind. He fired off another round from his gun—and it was close. Too close for comfort.

  Impossible. He couldn’t be that close! Had she made no progress?

  Sweat soaked her tank beneath the backpack, her thighs burned. Her cheeks flushed from exertion, her pulse thudded between her ears. Up ahead, she knew the trail curved sharply to the right, then plunged steeply. There was a side trail that stemmed off from there. It was an old path she and Jeremiah used when running late for dinner. She hadn’t used it in years and it might be impassable now, but it was all she had.

  If she stayed on the trail she’d be wide open and vulnerable.

  Anticipating the turn, Delaney released the camera and grabbed the closest limb. With every muscle she had, she swung her body up and off the trail. She grabbed another and another. Her boot caught on a root, branches cut across her skin, but she drove in. Tree, branch, rock—she used whatever she could grab and pulled herself upward into the mountainside.

  With the steep hillside cluttered with trees and bush, vines and weeds, negotiating the rugged landscape proved difficult. As she attempted to launch herself deeper into the mountain brush, she reached for the pointed edge of a boulder, the sandy surface digging into her palm.

  Seconds later, Delaney heard the man’s labored breathing, the patter of his heavy steps as he passed below. But she didn’t look down. She didn’t check to see if she had been spotted. She’d hear the gunshot if he had.

  Delaney continued forward, praying he wouldn’t see her. She prayed he would leave Sadie be.

  Pulling into the Ladd homestead, Nick slowed his car to a complete stop and tossed the gear into park. With a heavy sigh, he stared at the dilapidated old cabin and wondered why this project had to be so difficult. Most people jumped when you waved hundreds of thousands of dollars at them. Especially poor ones. There were no questions asked, not a care in the world—nothing but an agreement regarding dollars and cents. And time. How soon could they get their money?

  It was always the same. But not with the Ladds. They stood to lose a bundle if this property went to auction and for what—a family feud? Bad blood? Short-sightedness?

  It didn’t make sense. None of it. Not Ernie’s refusal and not Delaney’s. Nick dropped his head back to the headrest and thought about Jillian Devane. The woman behind Eco-Domani reminded him of a panther, lithe, dangerous curves, jet black hair down to her bottom, dangerous gold eyes that could kill with a single look. She had been memorable in so many ways. Both good and bad, but memorable just the same. Not the kind of woman you wanted to cross, but he had never made any promises to her. Never suggested he was hers for the taking, never offered her more than a good time.

  Yet when he left, she had pounced and pounced hard. Her perfect white teeth became fangs out for the kill. She was not happy when he moved on, but moved on is what he did. Jillian was beautiful, he’d give her that. She was a temptress of the highest degree, but she was shifty. Where she intended to pin you down, she refused you the same honor. Where she defied his eye to wander, hers slid around and snared men like the skilled seductress she was. He chuckled softly. And skilled she was.

  Movement up the mountain snagged his mind from thoughts of Jillian. Was that a deer? He homed in on the lightly colored animal moving between the trees. He’d always enjoyed stealing a peek at wildlife when the animal was completely unaware of his presence. It spoke to his youth, days in Montana spent chasing rabbits, hunting deer. He’d been drawn to the wild freedom of nature, the independence. The childhood impression had been deep and lasting, one he carried with him through his career as an hotelier.

  Nick bolted forward in the seat of his car, his eyes fixed on the figure creeping clear of the forest and down the mountain, her movements tense and cautious. Bewilderment funneled through his mind. That was no animal. That was Delaney!