Something More (25 page)

Startled by the contact, Luke went motionless, but Angie didn't seem to notice. Leaning closer, she lightly kissed him. It was an innocent gesture of sympathy and affection. But for him, it was like a bread crumb to a starving man. Before she could draw away, he pulled her back to take a larger sample.

Alive. He felt alive for the first time in years, stimulated by the feel of her in his arms and the giving warmth of her lips. One hand tunneled into the silky softness of her hair while the other dragged her against him, molding her to his length.

The contact was unexpected but not unwanted by Angie. On the contrary, the second his mouth claimed hers she realized she had been waiting for it all along, anticipating its ability to thrill her to her toes. But it was his unbridled need and hunger in it that took her breath away and evoked an equally potent response.

A bit dazed and dazzled, she drew back to gaze at him in wonder, awed by the instant heat. “Wow,” Angie murmured in a breathy voice. “Do you always react like that to a peck on the lips?”

His heavy-lidded gaze traveled over her face. “Try it again and let's see.”

With the taste of him still tingling on her lips, Angie needed no second invitation. She moved toward his mouth, but he met her halfway and the ground shook again.

Forgotten was the gold, in fact everything except the feel of his hard body and the desire that swirled around them. It was like being caught in a powerful vortex. Angie felt herself being swept into it. Some scrap of sanity told her it was all happening much too fast.

Summoning the will, she reluctantly dragged her mouth away, her arms stiffening ever so slightly to keep some distance between them. “I think we need to come up for air,” Angie murmured, her voice shaky as she strived for lightness.

Air was the last thing Luke wanted. His reaction was an immediate tightening of his grip. He knew he could easily overpower her and haul her back into his arms. That's where he wanted her.

Still, he hesitated, suddenly feeling like a teen-aged kid on a first date, too afraid of being rejected to push his luck. Remembering how rotten his luck had been, he relaxed his grip and idly rubbed the area where his fingers had briefly dug in, not quite recognizing it was a kind of caress.

“We could always blame this on the starlight,” he suggested, fully aware it was more than that for him.

Angie threw him a startled look. “Starlight.” She almost laughed the word. “If that's true, then Wyoming has the most potent starlight I've ever experienced.”

He laughed; it was a low and easy sound that somehow took away the tension and made everything all right.

Her gaze traveled over him, all warm and comfortable with just a hint of marvel in it. “I imagine it's getting late,” Angie murmured with reluctance. “We probably should be turning in.”

“We probably should,” Luke agreed, but something told him that he would spend most of the night staring at her tent, wondering whether sleep was proving to be equally elusive for her.

As one, they turned and leisurely made their way to the campsite in a silence that was both companionable and intimate.

 

 

Morning sunlight poured through the dust-coated window on the barn's east side. Particles of hay and motes danced in its slanting rays. Dulcie ran through its path on her way to the closed stall, drawn by her brother's muttered curses coming from it. She climbed onto the partition and looked inside.

There was Tobe, crouching behind the milk cow, doing something to its hind feet while the orphaned calf butted its head against the cow's swollen udder and rapidly swished its black tail back and forth.

“What're you doing, Tobe?” Dulcie leaned over the top of the stall, trying to see.

“Taking off these hobbles, what does it look like?” he grumbled irritably.

“Why're you doing that?”

“To see if old Susie'll let this calf suckle without raising a fuss, that's why.” He freed the last strap and stood up, slinging the hobbles over his shoulder.

“Aren't you going to milk her?” Dulcie looked but there was no sign of either the pail or the milk stool.

“Nope.” Tobe moved to the cow's head and untied the rope he'd used to snub the cow to the manger, then stepped back to watch.

Dulcie pondered that for all of two seconds. “Why?”

“Because,” he began as the cow buried her broad nose in the grain mounded in the feed box and paid no attention to the greedily suckling calf, “if she'll let this calf suck, then I won't have to milk her and we can go look for the gold.”

When the full meaning of his words sunk in, Dulcie gasped in delight. “I get to go, too?!”

“What other choice do I have?” he mumbled, then lifted his head, catching the sound of a vehicle pulling into the ranch yard. “I think we've got company. Go see who it is.”

With alacrity, Dulcie jumped off the partition and ran to the open barn door. One glimpse of the patrol car with a light bar fastened to its roof, and she raced back to the stall.

“It's the police, Tobe.”

“The police?” He frowned in surprise. “What do they want?”

Puzzled and curious, he vaulted over the side of the stall and headed outside, with Dulcie following as closely as his shadow. Tobe spied a uniformed officer climbing the steps to the trailer door.

“It looks like Beauchamp,” he said absently, then cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, “hey, Sheriff!”

The man turned, looked, then raised a hand in acknowledgment and headed back down the steps. Tobe struck out from the barn to meet him.

“Mornin', Sheriff. What brings you out our way this morning?”

Beauchamp's gaze strayed to the camper. “I understand Miss Sommers is staying here. Is that her camper?” He flicked a finger in its direction.

“Yeah, but she's not here.”

“Do you know where I can find her? I need to talk to her.”

Tobe hesitated over how he should answer that. “Luke took her camping out in Buell's Basin,” he said, then added, “Dulcie and me were about to head that way ourselves. We could take a message to her, if you like.”

“Please,” Beauchamp agreed. “Tell her I need to speak to her as soon as possible. It's important.”

“I'll do it,” Tobe promised.

 

 

After hauling water from the stream, Angie poured it onto the still-hot embers of the morning's campfire, then gave the collapsible canvas bucket to Fargo to stow in one of the packs. Luke watched as she shoveled a layer of dirt over the coals.

Almost from the moment Angie had emerged from her tent, Fargo had been within earshot. Luke hadn't had a single chance to exchange a private word with her. Last night had changed a lot of things; permanently, Luke suspected—at least for himself—and maybe for Angie, too, judging by the awareness that was in her look every time their eyes met. Truthfully, Luke didn't know what he wanted to say to her except that he hoped this treasure hunt of hers took a helluva lot longer than two weeks.

With the ball cap pulled low on her forehead, Angie turned back and surveyed the smothered campfire. “That should do it,” she declared and stowed the compact shovel on one of the packsaddles.

Luke glanced at Fargo. “All set?”

Taking his action as a signal, Angie gathered up the roan's trailing reins, hopped a foot into the stirrup, and swung onto the saddle, eager to be off now.

Luke tossed a glance at the sun when he mounted. “We're getting a later start than I expected.”

“It's not all that late,” Angie responded. “For a lot of people, this would be the shank of the morning. Not everybody gets up at dawn, you know.”

“They're missing the best part of the day then.” Luke grinned and reined his horse away from the camp, aiming toward the west. Touching a heel to its side, he sent his mount forward at a shuffling trot.

“Some might argue that point,” Angie chided lightly when she drew alongside him.

Again, Fargo intruded on their conversation before it had a chance to become personal. “How come we're goin' this way? I thought we were gonna' check out the other pillar.”

“There's been a change in plans,” Luke replied over his shoulder. “Angie's decided it's supposed to be the morning shadow instead of the afternoon.”

Fargo grumbled something and fell silent.

Within minutes their shadows merged with the one cast by the pillar. It stretched before them like an arrow on the ground, its tip pointing toward the mouth of the canyon. Its length receded with the slow rising of the sun. They rode out of its path before they reached the entrance itself.

Angie experienced a tingle of excitement when she saw the tall rock face that formed much of the canyon's left wall. All along it, there were formations that jutted from it, some large, some small.

Fargo urged his horse alongside theirs, drawing the packhorses with him. “What are we lookin' for now?”

“A campsite with water close by, and a rock in the shape of an eagle,” Luke replied.

“You're sure it's an eagle, now?” Fargo mocked dryly. “You ain't gonna change your mind later on and say it's supposed to look like a swan or a stork or somethin'?”

The challenging skepticism in his voice drew a smile from Angie. “It's definitely an eagle,” she assured him.

“Long as you're sure.” With a wad of tobacco bulging out his left cheek, Fargo talked out of the other side of his mouth. “I don't wanna be wastin' my time lookin' for somethin' that ain't there.”

“Why don't you scout out a campsite while we do the looking?” Luke suggested.

As Fargo formed a reply, the boom of a rifle shot shattered the midmorning stillness. Luke immediately reined in and swung his horse around, an alertness gripping him. Before the echo of the first shot faded, there was a second one, followed by a third after a similar interval.

“That's no hunter,” Luke concluded and reached for the rifle he carried in the leather saddle scabbard. “That's a signal.”

“Tobe, you think?” Fargo speculated, cocking a bushy eyebrow.

“It's either him or someone in trouble.” He shoved a bullet in the chamber, pointed the muzzle skyward, and fired an answering signal, then pushed the rifle back in its scabbard and fastened the flap. “Let's go.”

At a canter, they rode back to the mouth of the canyon. Luke's searching gaze quickly spotted a rider coming off the slope into the valley. He pulled up, the bay horse shifting restively beneath him, stimulated by the fast canter. Standing in the stirrups, Luke waved his hat over his head and whistled shrilly, drawing the rider's attention.

“That's Tobe, all right,” Fargo stated, certain of the identity even at this distance. “Wonder what he wants?”

Luke dismissed the question. “We'll know soon enough.” At the touch of a spur, the eager bay jumped forward as Luke rode to meet the pair.

A
ngie was relieved to see a pair of small, slender arms wrapped tightly around Tobe's middle. Reassured that Dulcie hadn't been left alone at the ranch, she refused to guess. The bald-faced roan detected her tension and sidestepped nervously, tossing its head.

“What's the problem?” Luke frowned at Tobe.

“It's not a problem, exactly,” Tobe answered with a glance at Angie. “The sheriff came by the ranch this morning to see Angie. When I told him that you had taken her camping, he asked me to deliver a message. So I trailered the horse as far as I could and rode the rest of the way.” At that moment Tobe noticed the tall finger rock that towered atop the knoll to his left.

“What was the message, Tobe?” Angie prompted.

But the question didn't register. Tobe was too busy gawking at the stone pillar. “That's it, isn't it?” he said with awe.

“The message, Tobe,” Luke said in mild exasperation.

“What?” Tobe gave him a blank look, then comprehension dawned. “Oh yeah, the sheriff wants her to call him as soon as she can. He said it was important.”

“The lab tests probably came back,” Angie guessed.

“Sounds like it,” Luke agreed and switched his attention back to Tobe. “You'd better head on back to the ranch. You've got evening chores to do.”

“But—” Tobe scowled in protest.

“No buts. Get movin',” Luke ordered.

Tobe glared at Luke a second longer, then jerked his horse around and pointed it back the way they had come. He jammed his heels in the horse and it leaped forward with Dulcie hanging on for dear life.

Amber juice arced from Fargo's mouth, putting a punctuation mark to Tobe's departure. “If you plan on lookin' for that eagle rock today, we'd best be headin' back to the canyon.” Fargo gave a tug on the rope to the packhorses before he reined his mount around. In silence they all rode back to the canyon.

A dozen yards inside the entrance, Fargo split away to locate a campsite. He crossed a dry wash that in early spring carried the runoff from mountain rains and snowmelt. Except for pockets of mud, it was mostly dry. He didn't bother to look for any lingering pools of water; he had another place in mind—a spring-fed seep half hidden in a hollowed-out section of ground some distance from the coulee and closer to the canyon's left wall.

In a level clearing near the seep, Fargo dismounted and stripped the packs and saddles from the horses, then strung a picket line between two trees and tied the horses to it for the time being.

Getting a fire going and coffee started was always the first order of business for any range cook, and Fargo wasted little time gathering wood and lighting a fire, with pine needles for kindling. Using the collapsible canvas bucket, he hauled water from the seep and poured it into the kettle, then hooked it from the tripod, suspending it over the crackling flames.

The first boiling bubble broke the water's surface when he caught the rapid pounding of fast-cantering hooves. He straightened from the supply pack, a bag of coffee in his hand and the enameled pot at his feet.

At almost the same instant that Fargo saw Tobe charging into the canyon, Tobe saw him and rode straight toward the clearing. He pulled up well short of the fire, his horse snorting and blowing.

“What are you doin' here?” Fargo scowled in surprise.

“The same thing you are,” Tobe shot back with defiance. “Looking for the gold.”

“You're supposed to be takin' care of things back at the ranch,” Fargo reminded him.

“What do I care? It ain't my ranch.” Grabbing Dulcie by the arm, he swung her off the back of his saddle and lowered her to the ground, then piled off after her. “If you care so much about it, you can go back and do the chores yourself.” Turning, Tobe scanned the canyon.

“Where's Angie and Luke, anyway?”

“Out lookin' for a rock shaped like an eagle,” Fargo answered.

Surprised, Tobe wheeled around, all ears and big eyes. “Where?” he asked, suddenly breathless.

“They're expectin' to find it somewhere along that wall.” He gestured to the left side of the canyon.

“When they find it, then what?”

“Beats me,” Fargo admitted. “That Sommers gal's playin' it close to the vest.”

Frustrated, Tobe swore under his breath. Without another word, he swung to his horse, and grabbed the saddlehorn.

“Where're you goin'?” Fargo eyed him askance.

“To look for that eagle rock.” He stuck a toe in the stirrup and launched himself into the saddle.

“Tobe, wait!” Dulcie grabbed at his leg. “I want to come with you.”

“No, you stay here with Fargo.”

“But I wanna look for the gold, too,” she protested.

“Well, you can't. Now stay here like I told you!” Without a backward glance, he rode off and left Dulcie standing there with tears swimming in her eyes.

No tantrum followed his departure. No jutting pout of the lower lip. Just silence, and the wrenching sight of a heart-broken child. It tugged at Fargo.

“What's an eagle rock look like, Fargo?” She looked up at him.

He searched for an answer, but there was only one. “Like an eagle, o' course.”

“Oh.” Dulcie stared at the ground in front of her. “Can I go look for the eagle rock?”

Fargo rolled his eyes in despair, realizing he should have known she'd ask something like that. “No, you'd end up gettin' lost and I got the noon meal to start. I ain't got time to go lookin' for you.”

“I wouldn't get lost. Honest.” It was as close to a plea as Dulcie had ever made.

He started to refuse, but he made the mistake of looking at her and then hesitated. “You'd have to stay right around here,” he warned.

“I promise.” Her fingers made a hasty
X
mark across her heart.

“I tell you what”—Fargo reached back in the pack and pulled out a blue towel—“you go tie this towel on that tree limb over there. Then you can go look wherever you want as long as you can still see that towel.” Pausing, he drew the towel back, holding it out of reach of her outstretched hands, and looked her hard in the eyes. “You understand?”

“Uh-huh.” She bobbed her head in eagerness, eyes shining. “I'll make sure I can see the towel all the time. Honest, I will, Fargo.”

Relenting a little from his firm stand, he let a ghost of a smile soften the line of his mouth. “See that you do,” he said and passed her the towel.

But his smile blossomed into a full-blown grin as Dulcie raced to the tree that was hardly more than a sapling. There, she knotted the towel around a low branch, waved to Fargo, and moved off.

 

 

Deeper into the canyon, the rock cliff disintegrated into a steep slope strewn with trees and jutting boulders. Reining in, Angie slowly scanned the new terrain. Few of the trees looked old enough to have been standing when Ike Wilson and his fellow outlaws had ridden through the canyon. More importantly, there was nothing that resembled the eaglerock referred to in the coded message.

“How far back does the canyon go from here?” Her glance bounced to Luke, then back to the rugged slope.

“About three quarters of a mile, I'd say. Then it climbs to a plateau.”

His answer confirmed what the topo map had indicated; this was not a so-called box canyon, with only one way in or out. Rather, it was accessible from several directions.

“Is the rest of it like this?” She nodded to the terrain before them.

“The slope gentles out, but otherwise it's about the same.” The bay horse took advantage of the halt and stretched its nose to the grass and tore off a chunk. The rattle of bit and bridle chain as it chewed drowned out the whir of insects and the gentle sigh of the morning breeze. Only the exuberant trill of a nearby bird competed with it for dominance.

Silently Angie debated whether to continue on. But all her instincts said the eagle-shaped rock had to be somewhere along the nearly sheer cliff face.

“Let's make another pass along the wall,” she decided. “Maybe coming at it from another direction, things will look different.”

“They generally do,” Luke agreed. “That's how people become disoriented and lost in the wild.”

There were easily dozens of oddly configured boulders, either in combinations with others or alone. Some protruded from the wall face; others stood along its rim. But none had reminded her of an eagle.

It was too early in the hunt for her to feel the heaviness of disappointment. But Angie was conscious of it pulling at her. She told herself that she'd been spoiled by the early success with the pillar. When she reined her horse around to retrace their route, her gaze once again lifted to examine the cliff's changing face.

“You do realize,” Luke's voice intruded again, “that it's been nearly a hundred years since Wilson was in this canyon.” Then, always the skeptic, he added, “
If
he was.”

“I know.” Angie concentrated on the varied shapes before her, trying to overlay the outline of an eagle on them.

“That means a hundred winters with all their freezes and thaws. Freezes and thaws that act like Mother Nature's chisel and change the sculpture of a rock that once resembled an eagle. You could be looking for something that no longer exists,” Luke warned.

“It's possible.” Her chin came up. “But it's much too soon to say that's the case this time.”

Farther ahead, the smooth nose of a boulder jutted from the cliff like the gnarled stub of a broken tree limb. But the rounded contour of the tall rock above it was unbroken. By no stretch of the imagination could Angie alter its outline to fit the majestic silhouette of an eagle.

Her glance skipped to the next section of face, scanning first above the narrow ledge that traversed the cliff, then below it. Intent on her search, she didn't notice the rider walking his horse toward them.

“Tobe, what are you doing here?” Luke challenged in surprise.

Tobe pulled up looking startled and guilty, then made a valiant attempt to throw it off. “I'm lookin' for that eagle rock, same as you are.” But the telltale reddening of his ears belied the assertive tone of his voice.

“How did you know about that?” Angie questioned in amazement.

“Fargo told me.” Tobe welcomed the excuse to avoid facing Luke.

“I thought you were heading back to the ranch.” Luke's remark bordered on an accusation.

Tobe had trouble meeting his eyes. “I changed my mind.”

“Where's Dulcie?” Angie asked in instant concern.

“I left her at camp with Fargo.”

“What about the work you're supposed to be doing back at the ranch?” The level of Luke's voice didn't change, but the reproach was inherent.

Tobe struggled to convey a careless indifference. “There's plenty of grass in the pasture for the horses, enough that they can get by without bein' grained for a while. I put the orphaned calf with the milk cow, so it's not gonna be a problem if she don't get milked. And I left the truck and stock trailer parked on the ridge. I figured I could drive back every night just to check on things. That should be good enough. And if it isn't . . .” He faltered, searching for the words he had so carefully rehearsed in his mind. “And if it isn't, then . . . I quit.” As if expecting an argument, Tobe rushed to add, “And you aren't gonna talk me out of it, Luke. There's no way I'm gonna stay at the ranch while everybody else is out here hunting that gold. Why should I, when I could be the one who finds it?”

“You don't even know where to look,” Luke began.

“Neither does Griff, but that didn't stop him,” Tobe declared. “And it's not gonna stop me.”

“Griff. You mean Griff Evans?” A disbelieving frown narrowed Luke's eyes.

“Of course I mean Griff Evans.” Just saying Griff's name seemed to strengthen Tobe's resolve and confidence. “He walked out of the Rimrock yesterday afternoon to come look for the gold. Haven't you seen him?”

“No. Not a sign.”

“That's funny.” Tobe frowned. “You'd think if you hadn't seen him, you'd at least have heard him. He borrowed the Daniels's ATV, paid 'em two hundred dollars for the use of it.”

“We heard the ATV last night,” Luke acknowledged. “But I didn't know Griff was at the wheel.”

“I'm surprised he's not here,” Tobe remarked, then grinned. “I guess he's still trying to find the pillar, huh? That means we're a step ahead of him, doesn't it?”

“
We?
” Luke drawled, all cool and lazy. “A little quick to count yourself in, aren't you?”

Tobe split a worried and anxious look between Luke and Angie. “But if I help find the gold, I'm entitled to a share.”

“Don't look at me. That's Angie's call to make.” Luke smoothly passed the problem to her. “I was hired on strictly as an outfitter and guide. So if you expect a share of the gold, it's just as well you don't work for me.”

Angie studied him, then said, “Twenty percent of whatever I receive; does that sound fair?”

The breath he'd been holding whooshed from him, the tension evaporating. “Fair enough.” Tobe tried not to sound too overjoyed with her acceptance—or the percentage.

“You understand that I have no idea how much that might be, if anything at all?” she added.

“Sure. No problem.” Tobe did his best to ignore the feeling of desperation clawing in his throat.