Callahan's Gold (Southwest Desert Series Book 3) (4 page)

"Yazzie can be the cook, unless one of you wants to do it. Believe me, we'll need somebody to take care of the pack of mules. He knows those mountains like the back of his hand. Anyway, if we find a mother lode, dividing it between one more won't matter that much."

"We might as well invite the whole damn town!" Rex retorted.

"There'll just be five of us, if Tory goes."

Ramona spoke softly, almost reluctantly. "Dodge, I don't like that man. Bad vibes."

"Yazzie?" Dodge shrugged her away with his hand. "Don't start with your Indian hocus-pocus, Ramona. I don't believe in it. We may need this man."

She faced him seriously. "My feelings toward him have nothing to do with my being Indian. Or with hocus-pocus."

"What is it? Woman's intuition? He did help you find Sharkey, remember? Apparently, Sharkey trusted him. We always used his mules."

"Sharkey's intuition wasn't always as keen as it should have been," she countered with a faint smile. "Just look at this gathering of his so-called friends. Strange bunch, we are. Okay, have it your way, Dodge. Invite Yazzie."

"I agree," Rex affirmed finally. "We may need someone like Yazzie who's entirely familiar with the mountain. If you don't trust the man, Ramona, at least we'll have him close so we can keep an eye on him."

"Okay, it's settled." Dodge scooted his chair back and stretched to his full six feet five. "You two ride up the mountain together in the Jeep. And I'll plan on bringing Tory, if your intuition's right about her, too, Ramona. If not, we'll have to figure out a way to get that map."

"Count on her." Ramona gathered the three gold nuggets, gave one to each of the men, and tucked one in her own pocket. "In case there isn't any more treasure, we each have a token from Sharkey."

Rex held the gold in his palm. "There'd better be more than this. I don't plan to waste a week chasing an invisible treasure in the Dragoon Mountains."

"Plan on two weeks. And, Rex, " Dodge let his gaze flicker over Rex's expensive suit. "Wear your jeans."

"I'll have to buy some."

Dodge laughed and picked up the Indian pot. He tucked it into the crook of his arm as if it were a prize pig. "See you Friday."

"See you," Ramona mumbled, gently touching the Indian pot as they left the Crystal Palace Saloon.

Tory Talbot entered the modest motel room at the edge of town, picked up the phone, and canceled her evening flight to L.A. For some reason the experiences of the day had left her exhausted. Maybe it was the heat. Anyway, spending the night would give her time to decide what to do.

She paced around the room. What was to decide? Of course she would head back to the real world tomorrow. Wouldn't she? Or not?

Sighing, she walked to the window and tried to sort out the strange events surrounding the reading of her father's will. She should just get out and never look back. That's what her reason told her to do. But somewhere deep within her heart, Tory felt a kinship with this unorthodox man, this father she never really knew.

In the saloon today she had been exposed to a fraction of Sharkey Carsen through his friends. First, there was Dodge Callahan. Even his name conjured a certain image, that of a western hero. But was he really a hero? She saw him as an enigma of a man with a marshal's badge on his chest, a contemporary man dressed for 1880. Dark hair and eyes, square shoulders. Actually, he was a little too rugged to be called handsome. And yet Tory felt drawn to Dodge. He was strong and masculine. She found him both formidable and tempting.

Rex Richardson, Sharkey's other partner, was obviously a wheeler-dealer type. Was this a part of her father's nature, too? Rex was bright, educated, energetic, the man with the money. And out for more. He was quite different from Dodge, yet in some ways similar. Tough. Masculine, in a certain way. She wondered how her father had fitted into the partnership.

Then, there was Ramona. Lovely, calm, intelligent. She wasn't exactly the kind of woman Tory pictured for Sharkey. If appearances meant anything, she loved Sharkey. That in its self was a mystery to Tory.

No, she wasn't being fair. Just because he'd been a lousy father and husband didn't mean he wasn't a loyal friend and good lover to others.

Tory scanned the purple-mountained horizon beyond Tombstone. The Dragoons. They were the same mountains her father had explored, had mined, had hoped would produce that elusive gold. She laughed to herself. Was it merely a dream? A dream to seek the sun?

She remembered him saying those words when she was just a child. He couldn't be tied down to family, to a real job. He had to seek the sun. Why? What was Sharkey Carsen really like? The answer lay with his friends, these strange people who had gathered today around the gambling table. Gamblers all.

If she wanted to know more about Sharkey Carsen, she'd have to find out through them. After all these years, the reasoning part of her objected stubbornly. Did she really want to know? Undeniably, she harbored twenty years of resentment because he'd abandoned her and her mother. That he never knew how her mother suffered without him.

In the next few quiet moments, her heart overruled her head and answered softly. Yes. Yes, find out all you can about this man who was your father. This is your only chance. Tears sprang to her eyes, and Tory quickly brushed them away. Damn you, Sharkey Carsen!

Tory didn't sleep well that night. When she awakened, she knew what she would do. What she had to do. The first thing was to place a long distance phone call to L.A.

"Megan, I've decided to stay on for a few more days. Can you take care of the shop?" When she was convinced her associate could handle things, Tory closed the phone. After a thoughtful moment, she made several local calls. She had to find Dodge Callahan.

Following directions from the motel attendant, she drove her rented car through town and down a dirt road until she caught sight of an old pale green trailer. This rusty hunk of tin had been her father's home? She sighed. Whatever made her think he'd left her, or anybody else, an inheritance of value?

The door was open, and she could hear whistling inside. For some reason, her heart pounded with anticipation as her fist knotted above the screen door.

"Hi."

Startled, Tory stared through the screen and found the shape of Dodge Callahan. "Oh! Hi. I. . . I've been thinking about your offer, Dodge, and—"

"It isn't my offer. It's Sharkey's."

"Well, you are taking the group up the mountain, aren't you?"

"Yep. We're going to scatter Sharkey's ashes and look for the gold. Leaving Friday. Want to go?"

"Yes, that's why I'm here. Friday?"

He pushed on the screen door. "Come on in, Tory. I've been expecting you. I wondered how long it would take you to get around to us."

She gave him a curious glance and mounted the steps into the small trailer. The first thing her eyes settled on was the audacious Indian pot containing Sharkey's remains perched in the middle of the kitchen table like a decorative centerpiece of flowers. Tory turned her face away.

CHAPTER FOUR

"Ramona said you'd admit it."

"Admit what?" Tory rubbed her arms and shivered involuntarily as she stepped inside. This was Sharkey's home, still his resting place, in fact. And the whole feeling was eerie and unsettling. Yet Dodge looked as though he were quite at ease in the old miner's former abode. Never mind the fact that the Indian pot containing Sharkey's remains sat on the table.

"That you're a sun seeker," Dodge explained with a slightly crooked smile beneath that craggy mustache. "Sharkey would say that gold was just rock that had captured a piece of the sun."

"Oh, yes. That's a little silly, don't you think?"

Dodge shrugged. Tory couldn't help noticing that his shoulders were broad and square inside his casual cotton sports shirt. Tiny curls crept alluringly along the vee of his open collar. "Maybe. Depends on how you feel about the gold."

"And if you believe it's there."

"Don't you?" He looked at her curiously, and when she didn't answer right away he asked, "Then why are you here?"

"Oh, I don't know. Inquisitive, I suppose. He was my father, and I'm curious about what he was doing in those mountains all those years." She tried to sound nonchalant, as if she didn't really care and hadn't lain awake most of the night puz
zling over the strange life of Sharkey Carsen.

"Actually, he wasn't in the mountains all those years. Sharkey was my professor at the University of Arizona when we first met."

"Sharkey was a professor?" Her blue eyes registered shock. "He held a decent job?"

"For a little while." Dodge handed her coffee in a clay pottery mug and motioned to the small built-in table. "Have a seat, please."

Tory looked uneasily at the Indian pot centered on the table. "Could we move that?"

"Of course." Dodge exchanged his coffee mug for the clay pot and carried it to a back room. "Does he make you nervous?" he inquired on returning.

She slid onto the bench at the table. "Well, I prefer not to stare at the urn of my father's ashes while I have my morning coffee."

"I guess so, you being a city girl and all." Dodge squeezed in opposite her.

"You say that as if it's a shame."

"No, just a surprise that Sharkey's daughter would be so citified."

"Why a surprise? That's where he left me, in the city. That's where he left both my mother and me. And, life being the way it was in those days for a young woman with a child, that's where we stayed." She lifted her chin indignantly and let her eyes sweep over the ragged room. "But, believe me, where we lived was far better than this."

"I'm sure it was." His brown eyes flickered over her approvingly. "Of course, there's nothing wrong with the way you turned out. Nothing at all. Sharkey would be—"

"Look, I didn't come here for your approval. And certainly not for Sharkey's."

"What is it you want, Tory? Really want?"

She gazed at him levelly. "Just like all the rest. I want my share."

He grinned and white teeth reflected against his darkly tanned skin. "I thought so. At least you're willing to admit it. Nothing wrong with that, though. It's human nature. But I detect something else in your attitude. Something deeper. Maybe a little revenge?"

"Revenge?" She sipped her coffee and gazed thoughtfully at the Indian designs painted in pitch black on her mug. "Maybe you're right, Dodge. It's too late to help my mother, but I'm awfully resentful about the way Sharkey treated us. Especially her. She really struggled in her lifetime. And when I was old enough to realize why, I resented everything about my father."

"So now you're out to get what's coming to you," Dodge concluded.

"Do you blame me?"

"Nope. Guess not. Look, Tory, I don't excuse what Sharkey did to your mother and you, and I realize it must have been very difficult for her. Sharkey and I had been friends for the past five or six years, and while he was a bit strange—seeking the gold with such a feverish passion—he was serious about some things. Believe it or not, he still cared about his family."

She knotted one fist on the table. "I find that hard to believe."

"Occasionally, he talked about the family he left behind. I think he sensed his time was running out and felt an urgency to accomplish his unachieved goals. He wanted to find the gold partly so he could send some of it back to your mother, as a sort of compensation. He felt remorse, I'm sure. He talked about hitting it big, about taking the devil's share. Unfortunately, the devil got him first."

"It wouldn't have done any good to send money," Tory muttered bitterly. "Even after my mother got sick, I doubt she would have taken a penny from him. But I would. I'm still paying her hospital bills."

"I knew there was some vindictiveness in your voice," Dodge chided softly. "Strangely enough, Sharkey thought you both were just the way he left you. He talked about how cute you were with your hair in pigtails."

"If he cared, really cared, why didn't he ever return?"

"He did, in the beginning. Tried to find you in L.A. a couple of times. But the addresses changed every few months, and he couldn't track your mother."

Tory's deep blue eyes narrowed. "That's because we were forced to move when we couldn't pay our rent. And my mother became very adept at covering her tracks so creditors couldn't find us."

"After a few years, Sharkey said he gave up. He figured your mother wouldn't want to see him after all that time."

"He figured right. She hated him more as the years passed." Tory's face softened. "But I would have liked to see him. Perhaps even to know him. I grew up with a dream of a father. Sometimes he was a devil, sometimes a saint. But never there. And it wasn't fair. As I became an adult, my impression of him was more like my mother's. I grew to hate him."

"And now?"

She shrugged and looked at Dodge honestly. "Nothing. No feeling. I didn't know him. I couldn't feel anything for him when I got the letter saying he'd died."

Dodge nodded solemnly. "That's too bad, but I think I can understand." He scooted out from the table and refilled their coffee mugs. "Care for some breakfast, Tory? I haven't eaten yet, and I'm starving.

She watched his tall figure move about the kitchen. He seemed to fill the room with his large physical presence as well as an indefinable strength. Tory suddenly decided that Dodge wasn't as forbidding as she originally thought. He even seemed like a reasonable man, and the fact that he was Sharkey's friend wasn't his fault. He had no idea what a rogue Sharkey was. Not until now. "Sure. Breakfast sounds great," she said, smiling.

"We can discuss details of the trip into the mountains." Dodge slapped some bacon into a cast iron skillet, and it started to sizzle.

Tory tried not to cringe visibly at the sound of frying meat. Obviously, this was not going to be her usual breakfast of yogurt, fruit, and nuts. "What's to discuss? Can't we go up there today? It's still early."

"We're leaving Friday. Meeting Rex and Ramona at Yazzie's cabin."

"Why Friday? Why not now? I want to get this over and done."

"We need time to get ready. Rex and Ramona have to make arrangements at their jobs. Then we need special supplies and the right clothes. You'll need something more appropriate than"—he motioned toward her—"silk or whatever you have on."

"Oh?" She looked down at her classy beige skirt and matching blouse. "What's wrong—"

"Nothing, if you're taking a plane to L.A. But for the mountains, you need some rugged clothes. Jeans, long-sleeved shirts, a jacket, and boots. You're going gold digging, Tory. And it's in the heart of some of the roughest terrain in this country. That's what keeps most folks out. Only the roughest and most determined make it."

She tapped her rose-polished nails on the table. "Well, you'll find I'm pretty determined. I'll make it."

"I have no doubts about that, city lady," he said as he gave her an approving grin. "But I couldn't help noticing you weren't very rough, so we have some work to do gearing you up." He forked up the bacon and plopped two eggs into the skillet.

Tory squeezed her eyes shut at the thought of all that cholesterol and oil. Oh, well, she wouldn't be there very long. Maybe a few days of the wrong foods wouldn't ruin her insides or her figure.

"Here. Maybe you'd like to see what Sharkey was really like." Dodge tossed an old, yellowed newspaper down on the table and went back to the eggs. "The Tucson paper did a story on gold mining a few years back and took this shot of Sharkey and his old desert canary. It's the only picture of him that I know of. Kind of captures the essence of him, though."

Tory tried to remain detached as she gazed at the yellowed photo of the grizzled, bearded old miner and his flop-eared mule. This was her father? It didn't seem possible. He didn't look anything like she imagined, or hoped. Of course, to expect a pin-striped-suited dandy wasn't reasonable, either.

Dodge slid a plate of steaming food on the table in front of her. "Well, what do you think of your daddy?"

"Honestly, Dodge, I'm not impressed. Looks like a drifter to me." She shoved the paper away and tackled her eggs. "Hmm, this looks great. I can't remember the last time I had bacon and eggs for breakfast. Lean and. . . nice."

He studied her silently for a moment, as if assessing her reaction. "It's beefalo. A fellow over at Sierra Vista, a town near here, breeds buffalo and cattle together. Healthier, so they say."

"B—buffalo?" She stared at the meat, then at Dodge. "We're eating buffalo meat?"

"Sure, why not? It constituted the mainstay of the old-timer's diet. Indians, too."

"I—I can't believe it. I thought they were extinct by now."

"Naw, they're coming back. Environmentalists, you know."

Tory nibbled her eggs, wondering if they were some near-extinct creature, too. When would she adjust to this . . . this time-warp place that seemed to be caught in a wedge of a hundred years ago?

Dodge paused. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just that this place is so strange. From the moment I arrived, I felt as though I'd stepped back in time. Like we're living in history in this distant corner of the world."

"That's the way we like it. It's why most of us are here, I suppose. Yep, I guess this is quite different from L.A." He finished off his meal. "You sure you want to go up the mountain with us?"

"Yes, of course. I'm not backing out yet. I was just making a comment on the social atmosphere. And if I need different clothes, I'll get them. Where would you suggest I go shopping?"

"I'd suggest Sierra Vista. I'll go with you."

"Oh, Dodge, you don't have to—"

He stopped her with an upraised hand. "I'd like it. I need to make sure you get the right equipment. Plus I have some shopping to do, too."

"Oh, sure." She hid a smile with her hand. "Sure you do, Dodge."

He leaned forward, and his dark brown eyes held a gleam. "Actually, it's just an excuse to spend a little more time with you. It isn't often that such a pretty lady comes to town, way out here. Plus, it's an honor to finally meet Sharkey's little girl."

"I'm not—"

"I know. You sure aren't, Tory. You're very much your own person."

"So was Sharkey, from the look of that photo," she claimed defiantly.

"Yep, Sharkey sure was. Guess you're your father's daughter, after all, Tory."

She leaned back in her seat and glared at the tall cowboy opposite her. Damned if he wasn't right.

Within the hour, they were rambling in his shiny black and red Blazer toward Sierra Vista. On every horizon loomed another range of blue purple mountains. To the west, the Huachuca Mountains; to the south, the Mules; behind them to the east, the Dragoons. Dodge stopped a couple of times to show her abandoned gold mines, now fenced off to protect the public.

He ambled frighteningly close to the open pits, standing with legs widespread. "Glory holes, they're called. Gold seekers thought these mines would bring them absolute happiness. Many lost their lives instead."

"Like Sharkey," Tory nodded solemnly. "Some of them look like simple holes in the ground, made by some animal, not a gold mine."

"They're deceiving. The wooden structures have all rotted away over the years. Each hole usually leads to a labyrinth of tunnels deep into the earth. That's why they're so dangerous. Many an unsuspecting hiker has fallen to a horrible death by plunging down ten to a hundred feet. The government now requires fencing abandoned mines."

"Well, the place looks deceivingly barren and empty," Tory commented as she noticed the gathering of dark clouds in the distance.

"Monsoons," Dodge commented. "The heat draws moisture up from Mexico and gives us much-needed rain this time of year."

"Well, at least the heat's good for something," Tory mumbled as she wiped a strip of moisture beads from her brow.

They stopped again, this time to inspect a time-ravaged adobe structure used by miners seeking that elusive gold.

"This cabin was built over a hundred years ago by a German mining engineer named Brunckow. He used this very fireplace to assay his ore before Tombstone was a town. But old Brunckow never got to enjoy his wealth because he and his men were murdered right here on this spot."