Desert Heat (3 page)

 
“Then I shouldn’t be here,” Mallory said,
turning toward the lodge. “I’ll make other arrangements.”

Mike grabbed her
wrist and warmth spread through her. “Yes, you should stay here. I’m not
allowed to have paying customers, but I can have a personal guest. God knows I
need something, anything, to do to keep me from going crazy.”

Although innocent,
his words heated her insides. “Are you certain?”

 
“Positive.” He let go of her. “Come on, let’s
have lunch. You can leave after you eat.”

She bit her lip as
she decided. “Okay then.
On one condition.”

 
“Which is?”

 
“That you tell me every single thing you know
about my father.”

~*~

Mallory leaned
against the industrial-sized sink and watched Mike prepare two ham and cheese
sandwiches. When he’d opened the huge, silver refrigerator, she’d seen enough
food to feed fifty. Although she wanted to pry, find out what the group he
mentioned could possibly hold over him to keep him from his work, she kept her
questions to herself. Whatever had happened, it was none of her business.

 
“We can eat on my patio, if you like,” he
suggested, carrying both plates.

They sat together,
the February sun warm on their backs. Mallory eyed her plate appreciatively.
Along with making sandwiches, he’d halved a cantaloupe, using it for a berry
bowl. He’d also brought along a pitcher of iced tea and poured them both a
glass. “This is lovely. If only this were just a vacation.”

 
“I’m sorry for the reason, but you’re welcome
to relax while you’re here,” Mike offered. “You’re more than welcome to use the
pool, the horses, anything you like.
Although, if you do
decide to ride I have to ask you to stay out of the desert.
You can go
down the roads.”

 
“Thank you,” she murmured. She bet his
business ran very successfully if this was the way he treated paying customers.
Although she did wonder why she couldn’t go to the desert.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “What I’d really like is to hear about my dad.”

He frowned. “What
do you want to know?”

 
“You apparently knew my father. That’s more
than I can say. He left my mother and me when I was only five years old. We
never heard a word again. My mother was frantic to find him. They hadn’t
fought, had no problems to speak of, and wham, he just disappears without a
trace. About six months later, we got one letter that said he needed time to
figure some things out, but that was it. Not another word.”

 
“I don’t know what I can tell you.” A small
frown played around his mouth, and she wondered about it. Didn’t he want to
talk about her dad?

 
“Anything.
I would
like to know the smallest details. When did he come here? How did he get here?
What drew him to you?” In spite of her determination not to let her anger show,
a tinge of old hurt spilled into her voice. She’d spent twenty-seven years
trying not to let her father’s abandonment hurt, but it did.
A
lot.

Mike shrugged.
“There’s not much I can tell you. Our head wrangler came in from a trail ride
one day a few years ago with the news that he’d seen an old man with a burro on
one of the trails. That wasn’t earth-shattering news. The
Cholla’s
land is bordered by Tonto National Forest on three sides, and people often use
the land to ride or to hike. What seemed different is that this guy—your
dad—looked like an old-time prospector more than a casual tourist.”

Mallory leaned
forward, intrigued. “Then what happened?”

 
“Nothing.”
He stared
into the distance as if he could see her father there. “We spotted Skeeter now
and then, but he minded his own affairs, and so did we. He didn’t bother anyone
so we left him alone. He came in once in a while to rest for a few days or bum
a meal or two.”

 
“When did you become acquainted?” She rested
her chin in her palm. “And why do you call him Skeeter?”

He looked at her.
“I took a ride by myself one day and I found Skeeter—that’s what he called
himself—digging Cholla thorns out of his hand. I offered to help, and though he
declined, he began to talk.”

 
“What did he tell you?” Mallory held her
breath.

 
“Not much,” Mike said. “He rambled on about
the gold, but he never found any.”

 
“What gold?” She leaned forward. Maybe this
was what she was looking for. The reason her father had left her.

 
“I had the impression he thought he was on to
something,” Mike said with obvious reluctance. “But you have to understand,
Skeeter was odd. He’d get excited about the smallest things.
An
arrowhead, a jackrabbit’s track.”

 
“You didn’t believe him?” she pressed.

Shrugging again,
he looked uncomfortable. “
There’s
a million legends
about lost gold in the Arizona desert, but rarely has any loot been found.
Hundreds, maybe thousands have hunted for the famous Lost Dutchman mine with no
success.”

 
“I’ve heard of that one. It’s close by, isn’t
it?” She was intrigued by the idea more than she cared to admit. Her father’s
blood ran in her veins in spite of his absence.

He nodded,
then
pointed to the purple and blue horizon. Those are the
Superstition Mountains. Supposedly Jacob Waltz, the Dutchman, mined a fortune
in gold out there, but died before he revealed the exact location.”

 
“Is that what my father was looking for?”
Anger boiled in her stomach. A myth had stolen her father from her?

 
“I don’t know.
Probably.
Maybe.”
He fiddled with his fork.

 
“When did he first stay here?” She picked at
the fruit, her appetite gone. Her father had abandoned his family and career to
chase ghost mines across the Arizona desert? That hurt more than she cared to
admit.

 
“Many years ago.
The
head wrangler and he were friends. Skeeter and he would shoot the breeze for
hours.”

 
“And would you have allowed him to use the
phone?” She knew the answer before he gave it to her.

 
“Of course.”
Mike
avoided her gaze.

Mallory didn’t
press any more. Her throat was too tight to force another word out. Her dad
could’ve called her, yet didn’t bother.
Nothing to make a
girl feel less than loved.
She would not go down this road. She could
not.

 
“One of the wranglers bumped into him last
fall,” Mike said. “Skeeter was sick, pneumonia, I think, and he needed to be
inside, out of the weather. I invited him to stay until he felt better. He was
reluctant, but he really needed medical attention and follow-up care. But as
soon as Skeeter felt better, he went back to the desert. He was like a lizard
or a desert rat, happiest alone out there. I got so I’d pick up supplies for
him when I went to town. Once in a while he’d stick around for a day or two.”

 
“And he was ill again this last time?” A pang
tugged her heart.
Sad that her own father didn’t have anyone
to care for him.
Mike Malone, a virtual stranger. Not his family.
 

 
“Not to my knowledge. I think he was just worn
out. He didn’t say anything.” Mike’s tone held regret.

 
“He didn’t say much at all, did he?” Mallory
didn’t try to disguise her anger this time.

 
“I’m sorry,” Mike offered.

 
“He never mentioned me or my mother?” Although
Mike had already told her as much, she wanted to hear it again. Maybe if she
heard it enough times she would believe it.

 
A flash of pity crossed his face. “I’m sorry,
no. I had no idea Skeeter had a family.”

His pity made her
want to scream. Or rant. Something, anything, to make all the sadness
go
away. “Apparently he forgot us altogether. Did he ever
tell you what he had been doing for the last twenty-two years for money? He had
to have some kind of income, some way to survive. Even a bum has to eat.”

 
“No.
Nothing.”

 
“What about when you picked up supplies? How
did he
pay
?” she pressed.

 
“With cash.”

 
“So he had to have some kind of work.
But what?”
Mallory shook her head, her glasses sliding down
her nose. Absently, she pushed them back in place. “I wonder if I could find
out more.”

 
“What good is this going to do you?” Mike asked
gently. “Unraveling your father’s past won’t bring him back.”

 
“You don’t understand,” Mallory said almost
desperately. “If I find out who my dad was, maybe I’ll figure out some things
about myself.”

 
“Such as?”

She glanced at the
nearby mountains,
unwilling to tell him she
was exactly like her dad– unable to sustain a meaningful relationship for more
than a short time. That she didn’t get close to people because they’d only
leave her in the end. “How to stick around, I guess.”
 

Chapter Three

 
“I don’t want to trouble you,” Mallory
insisted.

 
“You’re not bothering me,” Mike said. “Trust
me.”

Uncomfortable with
the warmth in his blue eyes, she changed the subject. “I need to make plans. I
first thought I should take my dad home and bury him next to Mom. Instead, I
made arrangements to have his body cremated. I need to find a place to scatter
the ashes.”

 
“I have an idea,” Mike said. “If you’re done
eating I’ll show you.”

Pushing away her
food, Mallory said, “I’m ready.”

After stowing
their plates in the dishwasher, Mike led her back outside. “Where are we
going?”

 
“Not far.” He went to the SUV. “Get in and
I’ll show you.”

He drove the
opposite direction of the ranch, down a twisting, narrow dirt road deep into
the desert. In a few minutes, the lane opened up to a mesquite-shaded area.
Mike turned off the engine and got out, motioning for Mallory to follow. He
went to a low, falling-down adobe fence. “Come see this.”

Together they
walked to an ornate iron gate and went through. Mallory paused and glanced up.
Intertwined among roses and vines was a cross, two arms broken off. She stepped
inside and was surprised to find herself inside what must’ve been a garden at
one time. She glanced around. There was no grass, no fountains or statues and
only a single
palo
verde
tree shaded one corner. A bright red cardinal flitted by. This spot was a
perfect place for a desert rat. “What is this place?”

He made a sweeping
motion with his hand. “This is what’s left of the original homestead.
A courtyard.
I’d be proud to have
Skee
–
er
, Gary rest here. This place isn’t pretty by most
standards, but he would probably like to be out here in the desert he loved.”

 
“Why are you being so nice? Skeeter wasn’t
related to you.” She searched his profile for answers.

 
“Maybe not, but he deserves a last resting
place he’d like. I’m pretty sure this would suit him.” Taking a few steps, he
studied the ground. “There was a marker here at one time, but not
any more
.”

 
“If you’re certain, then yes, I’d like him to
be here. In a way he was more
family
to you than he
was me.” Her heart ached at the truth in her statement.

 
“I’m positive.” He ignored her remark.

 
“Thank you for being so generous.” Mallory
touched his arm for a second,
then
dropped her hand.
“I’m sure Skeeter would like to be here.”

 
“Skeeter?”
He looked
at her then, lifting his eyebrows.

 
“I don’t know him by anything else,” Mallory
said. “So, yes, I’m going to call my father Skeeter from now on. Do you have
time to take me to the city so I can get things under way?”

 
“Sure,” Mike agreed easily. “But there’s no
rush.”

 
“I think there is,” Mallory disagreed.
“The sooner I can get this over with, the better.
I have a
week off from work. Enough time to try and follow my father’s tracks and figure
out both of us.”

 
“Maybe it’d be better to leave
Pandora’s box
closed,” Mike suggested.

 
“I can’t,” Mallory said. “I just can’t. I have
to try and understand.”

~*~

A petite, graying
blond with dark gray eyes, the coroner didn’t look like Mallory’s idea of a person
who dealt with dead bodies, but she hadn’t met too many coroners either. The
doctor’s handshake was firm and quick. “Miss James. It’s nice to meet you. I’m
sorry to tell you that your father’s remains are not ready. We’re backlogged
and there’s no way we can get to him until the end of the week.”

 
“Oh no.”
She had
hoped to have this over and done with quickly. “Do you have any idea of what
happened to him yet?”

 
“Probably heart failure, but like I said on
the phone, I’m not sure. Something’s bothering me, but I don’t want to comment
on it yet. I’ll call you when I have a definitive answer and his body is ready
to be released. We have some paperwork you need to fill out. If you’ll

 
follow
me?”

Mallory followed
the coroner into a second room, an ordinary office with dark paneling. After
she signed a few papers, Dr. Anson handed over
Skeeter’s
clothes, a folded paper, and a small vial. “You can take these now. We found
these items sewn inside his pant leg.”

Mallory took the
stack with trembling hands. She glanced at the paper. “What is this?”

The doctor
shrugged.
“Some kind of map.
And the little jar has
gold dust in it.”

 
“Gold dust?
Are you
serious?” Mallory shoved her glasses back up her nose.

 
“Completely.”

Mallory held the
little plastic tube up to the light and examined the particles inside. Flakes
of gold glittered. “I wonder what this is
worth?
”

 
“Probably not much,” the doctor said. “I doubt
there’s enough there to even take to an assayer. But I recognize it for what it
is.”

 
“Why on earth would Skeeter carry around a
minuscule amount of gold?” Mallory rolled it around in her palm. The glass
warmed in her grip. Had he found one of the lost mines? Her heart skipped a
beat.
 

 
“I have no idea,” Dr. Anson said.
“Unless it was a good luck charm.”

 
“Could someone have killed him for gold?” With
no idea where the idea came from, Mallory was nearly as surprised as the doctor
by her question. She told herself it wasn’t so crazy. A lot of people had died
for gold through the ages.

Dr.
Anson hesitated just long enough to make Mallory wonder if she had hit upon
something. Then she gave her a head a quick, firm shake. “I can’t say without
an autopsy, but my first inclination is to say no. Again, I believe Mr. James
died of natural causes.”

Mallory
felt a little foolish, like she’d watched too many episodes of CSI, but the
thought niggled at her. Had Skeeter found one of the lost gold mines in the
desert after all? She threw off the idea. It was ridiculous. The man had died a
penniless indigent.
 

The
doctor tapped a finger on the desk. Mallory thanked her and gathered the map
and the gold dust. She tucked the map and gold in her shoulder bag, planning to
go over the map in detail later. “Thank you for your time. I’ll be in touch.”

Back
in the SUV, she kept her thoughts to herself. Maybe she was being foolish, but
how much did she know about Mike Malone? He was in financial difficulty, after
all. How far would he go to save his ranch? Did he know if Skeeter had found a
gold mine? Would he kill for it? She shook herself mentally. How ridiculous.
The thought trickled back.
Or was it
?

But,
if that was the case, why had he called her down here?

To bury Skeeter, of course.
Mike didn’t know about the vial
and map. He probably figured she’d come down, bury her father, and go quietly
back to her life. She was stretching. Mike seemed like a nice guy, incapable of
foul play.

Mike
was quiet on the drive back to the ranch. Lost in thought herself, Mallory
touched the vial of gold in her pocket. It wasn’t impossible that Skeeter had
found one of the lost mines. He’d dedicated his life to the task. Not a
complete romantic, he had a degree in archeology. Maybe she could find out if
he had succeeded in his quest. If he had, it might make all his sacrifices
somehow worthwhile. Maybe his life would have some meaning.

Mike’s
voice interrupted her reverie. “Would you like to have a barbeque with some of
my friends?”

She
started. “I’m sorry?”

 
“I was thinking we could both use some
cheering up. Would you like it if I had some of my friends over for a barbeque
tonight?
Might be fun.”
He looked so hopeful she hated
to say no. Still, she didn’t think it was a good idea to get too friendly.

 
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she murmured. “I’m
sure you’re busy.”

He
laughed harshly.
“No, not really.
My calendar’s pretty
empty.”

 
“In that case, why not?”
Maybe she could talk to some people who knew Skeeter and gain some insight into
him.

 
“Good.” When he smiled it was like the sun
coming out from behind a bank of clouds. He pulled a cell phone out of his
pocket and dialed. “Dianna? It’s Mike. I’m planning a last-minute party at my
place tonight. Can you get everyone together?
Great.
Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

Who
was Dianna? Mallory refrained from asking. He wouldn’t be a man who would have
a difficult time finding female companionship. She glanced sideways at him, her
gaze lingering. Her gaze roamed his granite profile, dropping to muscled arms
and large, square hands. And finally,
to
hard,
muscled
thighs. What would it be like to touch him there?
Normally very reserved, she had never given rein to such an impulse. Maybe it
was the type of men she normally dated which discouraged such ideas.
Professors, businessmen, all as proper as she.
Probably her
own insecurities had attracted men with similar issues to her in the past.
Whatever the reason, she hadn’t found the man who could break through her
barriers. She doubted she ever would.

Dressed
casually in Levi’s and a dark gray tee that showed off his working man’s
physique, Mike seemed more earthy than most of the men she knew. No, more than
his style of dress or blond good looks suggested heat. Perhaps it was his
confidence that drew her to him. She dragged her gaze to the window. Although
Mike warmed her more than he had a right to, she would keep her head. She
always did.

~*~

Mallory
glanced at her watch. Mike had planned dinner for six-thirty. With about thirty
minutes to kill, she dug
Skeeter’s
torn map out of
her bag and settled on the bed. With a layman’s eye, she judged the paper to be
authentic.
Quite old, yellowed, edges crumbling.
She
didn’t recognize any of the landmarks, but it would be easy enough to compare
them to a modern map and see where they were. Nothing jumped out at her, until
upon closer inspection, she noticed a tiny X near the torn edge. The mark had
been made with a ballpoint pen. Her pulse jumped. What did it mean? Had Skeeter
found something there? She had no way to know.

Frustrated
that she only had half of the map, she folded it and stowed it back in her
purse. Without knowing the landmarks, her map was virtually useless. Maybe
there was a topographical map of Arizona at the lodge. She’d ask Mike at
dinner.

Noticing
it was almost
time,
she checked her hair and makeup in
the large oval mirror over the vanity. Usually, she wore minimal makeup, but
she’d taken a little extra time applying it tonight. Her curly mane was unruly
on her best hair day, so she’d pulled it into a ponytail, hoping she didn’t
look twelve.

Before
she reached the pool, the aroma of grilled steak reached her nose and her
stomach grumbled in response. Belatedly, she realized she was starving. She
hadn’t touched most of her lunch. A woman’s laughter floated on the cool night
air. Did it come from the mysterious Dianna? Mallory turned the corner.

A
group of five people were gathered near the pool, all dressed casually. Two of
them sitting in a lawn chair, holding hands and exchanging kisses every few
seconds were obviously a couple. A third man with a bald head leaned against a
pole, a bit apart. Mike turned a steak on the grill and a short, dark-haired
woman stood at his side. She laughed at something he said and Mallory knew
without asking this was Dianna.

Forcing
a smile, Mallory joined them.

 
“Mallory.
You made
it.” Mike handed her a beer she didn’t want. “Meet my friends.”

She
moved under the Japanese lanterns lighting the pool deck and gave a small wave.
“Hello.”

He
gestured to the kissy couple. “These are the newlyweds, as if you couldn’t
guess, Alan and Shelby.” Both smiled and greeted her. Mallory liked them almost
immediately. If she hadn’t known better she would’ve placed the pair of
blondes, both a bit chubby, for siblings.

She
glanced at the man half-hidden in the shadows. “That’s Brent hiding back
there.”

He
lifted a hand, but didn’t speak.

 
“Leave me for last why don’t
ya
, Mike?” The short dark-haired woman jumped in. She moved
closer to his side, giving Mallory a cool look. “I’m Dianna.”

 
“Nice to meet all of you.”
Mallory sipped the cold beer as a shiver rolled down her spine. She tugged her
sweater a bit closer. Although desert days were warm in February, nights
weren’t. No different than Vegas.

 
“Cold?”
Mike asked.

 
“A bit,” she admitted.

 
“Come close to the fire,” he invited. He
didn’t seem to notice Dianna’s hard look.

Taking
care not to crowd Dianna, Mallory soaked up the warmth of the mesquite-scented
flames. The scent of meat grilling over the fragrant wood made her salivate.
Her stomach rumbled again and she hoped no one noticed.

 
“So, Mallory, Mike tells us you’re
Skeeter’s
daughter?” Shelby asked from Alan’s lap. “We had
no idea he had any family.”