Summer Breeze (36 page)

"Rachel?" he whispered.

Nothing. He looked deeply into her eyes, searching for any sign that she heard him. It was as if everything within her had been snuffed out.

"Oh, Jesus."

Joseph carried his wife to the sofa and sat with her cradled in his arms. Morning came and went, and still Rachel didn't move or speak. She just lay there against him, limp, eyes open but unseeing, not hearing when

he spoke to her. As the hours dragged by, Joseph began to fear that she might never return to herself.

His fault. He'd pushed her into thinking of that day. He'd forced her to describe what she saw in her dreams. Her mother, without a face. He closed his eyes, so sorry for pressuring her that he ached.

It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon when Rachel finally stirred. Pushing against his chest, she sat straight, stretched as if she'd just awakened from a long nap, and beamed a smile at him.

"My goodness. How long have I been asleep?"

Joseph glanced at the clock. "For a bit." Over nine hours, to be exact.

"Lands, just look at the time. I should have made bread today." She swung off his lap. "It's far too late for that now, Joseph. Will cornbread do for supper?"

Joseph's body was cramped from sitting still for so long. He worked his arms to get the achy cricks out, his gaze fixed on his wife. She didn't seem to recall their discussion, leading him to wonder if she even recollected Darby's news. If so, she gave no sign of it. Humming the wedding march, she tied on her apron and hurried about the kitchen.

"I am
so
hungry. I'd swear I had no lunch."

Or breakfast, either. A cold, crawling fear moved through Joseph. Rachel was not only hiding behind walls, but also behind memory loss. He'd never known anyone who could simply erase unpleasant memories from her mind, but that seemed to be what she was doing.

He wanted to confront her, to ask what she recalled of the morning. But fear held his tongue.

What if he

upset her and she went away from him again? Even worse, what if she stayed away next time?

Joseph had heard of people going into trances. Sometimes they never came right again. He loved Rachel too much to take that chance.

And so he pretended with her that the events of the morning had never happened.

That evening when Joseph left the house to do chores, he went looking for Darby and found the old fellow resting in the bunkhouse.

"I still tire easy," Darby explained as he swung his legs off the bed and finger-combed his hair.

"Do a little bit, then I gotta sleep."

"You lost a lot of blood, and you're still not completely healed yet." Joseph made a mental note not to allow Darby to overdo it during the week he planned to remain there. "Something happened up at the house this morning, partner. You and I need to talk."

Darby gave him a questioning look. Joseph briefly explained about his conversation with Rachel and how she'd blinked out on him when his questions upset her. "I don't think she remembers any of it," Joseph said in conclusion. "Not our talk—or your news about marrying Amanda."

"I'll be." Darby shook his head. "That's beyond strange."

It was the strangest thing Joseph had ever witnessed, and it made him scared to death of losing his wife. "I'm thinking it might be best if you don't make any further mention of your marriage."

Darby sighed and pushed to his feet. "I can't for the

life of me understand what's going on in that girl's head. Amanda still loves her with all her heart.

She came to your wedding, hiding behind a veil."

"I know. I saw her there, Darby."

"It's so sad. She'd give anything to hug that girl and cuddle her up. How did Rachel get it into her head that Amanda was behind the killings?"

Joseph had no idea, and he was coming to accept that he never might. He also realized that his first loyalty had to be with his wife. "I know that it'll pain Amanda that I've asked this, but when next you see her, please tell her that I don't want her coming around here again, veil or no. If Rachel were to recognize her—well, I just don't know how she might react. That trance she was in today scared the bejesus out of me. I never want it to happen again."

The following morning when Joseph went out to milk the cows and feed the stock, he found Darby in the barn, saddling up his gelding, Poncho.

"Where are you off to so early?" Joseph asked.

"Thought I'd ride fence line," the old foreman replied. "Maybe count cows if I don't tucker out before I get around to it."

Joseph hadn't been out to check on the cattle since his marriage. The livestock grazed for feed and had water aplenty, so during his honeymoon he'd let them fare for themselves. "How about trading jobs with me? That's a lot of fence line to ride."

"It is, at that, but I'm no invalid, son."

"I never meant to imply that," Joseph replied. "But those cows are my worry now. If you'll stick close to

the house to keep an eye on Rachel, I'll be happy to get out for a while, truth to tell."

"All right, then."

Darby started to loosen the saddle cinch. Joseph brushed the old man's hands aside and handed him the milk bucket.

"I can lift my own saddle," Darby protested.

"Never thought for a minute that you couldn't." Joseph quickly swept the saddle from Poncho's back and settled it over a stall rail. "The cows are bawling to be milked. I'll take care of your horse and saddle my own."

Muttering about bossy young pups, Darby sauntered away to do the milking.

After finishing the chores and eating a breakfast that Joseph handed out through the garden gate, Darby took up squatting rights under the oak tree, his rifle resting across his outstretched legs, which were comfortably crossed at the ankle. As Joseph left to ride fence line, the old foreman yelled, "No need to worry while you're gone. I won't get caught with my back turned twice."

Joseph nodded. He had every confidence that Darby would keep a sharp eye out for trouble. He rode close to say, "Been a week since I counted the stock. I'll be taking my dog along to help sniff them out."

Darby lifted his hat in farewell. "Have a good ride."

It was a beautiful April morning, and Joseph had every intention of enjoying it. He was never happier than when he was in the saddle, especially when the mount beneath him was Obie. The stallion, sired by

Ace's black, Shakespeare, had his daddy's fine conformation and even gait. Joseph had never owned a horse who gave him a smoother ride, and Obie was steady and trustworthy, to boot, never spooking, always responsive, and as sure-footed as any animal Joseph had ever seen.

During the ride around the perimeters of the property, Buddy did what he did best: running with his nose to the ground to sniff out cattle. Into copses, over rocks, into gullies, the dog maintained an easy lope, never seeming to tire of the hunt. By noon, when Joseph took a break for lunch, the shepherd had routed out ten of Rachel's eighteen head.

"Good boy." Joseph made over the dog for a few seconds. "It's been a spell since we worked. But you haven't lost your knack for it."

Buddy happily growled in reply.

The dog kept a sharp eye out for treats as Joseph lifted the flap of his saddlebag. "Yes, Rachel sent you lunch. Same as she sent for me. Spoiling you, isn't she?" Joseph sat in the shade of a tree to eat. After laying out Buddy's food on the grass, he tucked hungrily into his own, appreciating every bite. "Damn, but that girl has the magic touch. No bread for sandwiches, so instead we get biscuits. But mine's still good enough that I could go for seconds."

Joseph unfolded another cloth and gave a satisfied sigh when he saw turnovers, fried golden and still slightly warm from the skillet. He sank his teeth into the gooey peach center and closed his eyes in pure pleasure.

Buddy barked and pranced with his front feet, his lolling tongue dripping drool as he eyed the dessert.

"This is people food," Joseph protested. "Besides, she only sent two."

The dog pranced again and licked his chops.
Ruff!

Joseph groaned and handed over the second turnover. "All I know is, you'd better work for it this afternoon. We've got a lot more fence to ride and eight more cows to find."

Joseph reached the creek around two in the afternoon. He'd ridden through there several times since Darby had been shot, but never without an eerie sensation crawling up his spine. Jeb Pritchard's place wasn't far away as a crow flew—or as a horse walked, for that matter—and Joseph couldn't turn his back to the mountain of rocks without half expecting to take a slug in the back.

Today was no exception, which was why, when Buddy suddenly started to bark, Joseph leaped from his horse and hit the dirt with his weapon drawn. Joseph squinted to see into the deep shadows cast by the projections of stone that reached toward the sky like gigantic arrowheads.

"Buddy!" he yelled.

But the red-gold dog was already gone up the steep hill. Joseph could hear him up in the rocks barking excitedly. Then came a shrill yelp and silence. Joseph was on his feet and running before common sense could make him think better of it.

"You rotten old son of a bitch!" he yelled as he charged for the rocks. "If you hurt that dog, I'll tear

you apart with my bare hands." Joseph took cover behind a boulder. "Buddy?" he called.

He heard nothing but the wind. His heart squeezed with fear for his dog. He wanted to race up there with no thought for his own safety, but with the ebb of that first rush of rage, he knew how stupid it would be. So he went slowly, darting from one rock to another, trying to shield himself as he ascended the hill.

After Darby's shooting, he and David had scoured this area and found the place where they believed the sniper had hidden to take aim. It was an opening of about forty feet across, encircled by boulders, which offered a broad view of the flat and creek below. When Joseph reached it, he searched the ground for any sign of disturbance to indicate that a man had recently been hiding there, but he saw nothing, not even a turned blade of grass.

Believing that they'd found what they sought, Joseph and David hadn't climbed any higher that other afternoon, so Joseph was surprised as he pressed upward to find that the mountain wasn't all rock as it appeared to be from below. There were grassy openings aplenty between the clusters of stone.

Joseph was about halfway to the top when he heard the thundering tattoo of a horse's hooves. At the sound, he almost ran back down the hill to jump on Obie and give chase. But Buddy was above him somewhere, and Joseph strongly suspected that the shepherd might be badly hurt. He had to find his dog. He could track the horse later.

Joseph found Buddy lying before what looked like the opening of a cave. As Joseph approached, he had

eyes only for his dog, searching for blood, dreading what he might find. To his relief, Joseph saw that the shepherd was still breathing. He holstered his gun, dropped to his knees, and gently ran his hands over red-gold fur to check for wounds. No blood that he could see.

Bewildered, Joseph made a second pass over the dog's body, this time parting the animal's coat, thinking that perhaps a puncture wound might not bleed heavily enough at first to soak through the thick fur.
Nothing.
Turning his attention to Buddy's head, Joseph soon found what he was seeking: a small gash along the dog's temple.

"Bastard," Joseph muttered. "I don't know what he hit you with, partner, but he flat snuffed your wick."

Buddy whimpered and shuddered. Joseph's temper soared. The dog didn't have a mean bone.

How could anyone do this?

And why?

When Buddy's eyes came open and Joseph felt confident the dog was going to be all right, he turned a more observant eye to his surroundings. Not just a cave, after all. A long wooden box lay nearby, and it was still wet. A portable mining sluice?

Buddy pushed up on his haunches. Joseph ran his hands over the animal's fur. "Sorry about that, my friend. I didn't know anyone was up here. Next time I call you back, maybe you'll think smart and do as I tell you, huh?" Joseph carefully scratched behind the dog's ears, avoiding the small gash. "You did good, though. Damned good. It looks to me like you've sniffed out more than cows today."

Joseph pushed to his feet and approached the mouth of the cave. He couldn't see very far inside, but whal he did see confirmed his suspicions. Tracks and an ore cart. This was a mine—a gold mine, if Joseph guessed right. Only whoever had been doing the digging had taken great pains to keep his activities hidden. At day's end, Joseph suspected even the portable sluice would vanish inside the cave. To the eye of a casual passerby—if anyone ever happened to have reason to come up here, which was doubtful—they would see only an opening in the rock.

Joseph stepped deeper into the cave. After his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw a lantern, a miner's light, and all manner of other paraphernalia lying about. Joseph grabbed the miner's light, struck a match to illuminate it, and tossed away his Stetson to don the headgear.

"Just what do we have here?" he mused aloud. His voice bounced back at him, echoing and reechoing. That told him that the cave ran deep. "Well, well, well. Suddenly it all makes sense."

Joseph's excitement grew apace with his footsteps.
Gold.
Who would have thought it? But it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. No Name itself was a mining town that had gone bust so quickly that the folks who'd swarmed there hoping to get rich left for better digs before giving the community a name. But then there was Black Jack, Colorado, where fortunes had been made in the foothills of the Rockies, a fellow named Luke Taggart topping them all. Joseph had heard stories that the man had more gold in just one bank than Midas could ever conceive of.

But that was the stuff dreams were made of. Years ago, folks around No Name had settled down to a more grueling reality, scratching out a living on the land, very few of them doing well. Ace's railroad spur had changed that immensely, making it easier and far more profitable for cattle ranchers to get their stock to auction in bustling Denver. Even so, the mind-set of folks had remained the same. To put bacon on one's plate, nobody looked at the dirt hoping to find gold.