Desert Heat (11 page)

To
get a better look, she dismounted and held the leather reins in her hands. The
ranch was directly below her. The green lawn and aqua pool stood out like
precious gems worn with a plain gray dress. Two figures moved across the
parking lot, but she couldn’t tell who they were for sure.
Maybe
Brent and Dianna.
They walked side by side and stopped by the ranch
vehicles. One of them got into one and drove away. Mallory watched as it sped
up the road and turned toward Mesa. When she looked back, the other person had
gone out of sight.

She
half-turned to her left and studied the area a little more closely. Now that
she paid more attention, she noticed the stable Shelby had mentioned. From the
barn, trails went in every direction. From this height they looked like a
spider’s web. Along the river she recognized three different rafting
outfitters. Even from here they looked deserted and sad.

The
gelding nudged her elbow and she turned to him. “Are you trying to tell me
something?
Ready to go?”
Digging the apple out of her
pocket, she offered it to him. He took it from her flat palm with one bite and
crunched. She chuckled. “Greedy.”

She
mounted and reined the pinto back the way she’d come. As he spun around, she
noticed something red among a stand of
palo
verde
trees. She hadn’t seen it from where she’d stood
because an outcropping of rock blocked her view until she moved. For a moment
she thought it was another cardinal. But when she took a closer look she
realized it was a car—a Jeep, to be exact.

If
she were careful, she could pick her way through the prickly jungle and go down
there. Nudging the gelding with her heels, she asked him to move forward. He
obeyed, weaving through the cactus. Mallory watched like a hawk to make sure he
didn’t bump into any of the deadly sharp spines.

Upon
approaching the Jeep, Mallory slowed. No one was in sight. Her skin prickled
and the horse danced a little. On first glance, the Jeep looked like any other.
But something seemed off. Mallory dismounted, and holding the reins with a
tight grip, moved closer. Unsure what made her uneasy, she studied the car.

Then
it struck her.

Instead
of a parked vehicle that someone would soon return to, it had an abandoned air about
it. A jacket and a pair of work boots waited in the back seat and the driver’s
door hung ajar. A water bottle had spilled across the floor. There weren’t any
tracks in the sand. The rain from the night before had washed them away.

She
sniffed, half expecting to smell that awful, sweet-sour of something dead. But
nothing rode the air but the familiar clean odor of the desert. That didn’t
mean anything. The dry air could dry out something dead, turning it into a
piece of leather faster than colder climates.

A
chill crawled up her neck and tightened her scalp. Quickly, she turned and
mounted the restless horse. He, too, seemed ill at ease, fighting the bit.
Holding him still, she paused long enough for a last look. A few feet from the
Jeep, at the foot of a huge saguaro, a shovel lay in the sand. It looked rusty,
unused.

The
whole scene gave her the
willie-nillies
.

Arizona
was a lot different from Nevada. At least the Nevada she knew. She’d never been
through so many strange sensations there. Although she felt a little silly, she
gave the horse his head and didn’t protest when he leaped into a gallop and
sped down an arroyo, sand flying behind his hooves. She held on to the saddle
horn with a death grip and let him carry her far from the spooky scene.

~*~

Mike
couldn’t quit feeling guilty. He’d waited until Mallory wasn’t paying attention
and he’d slipped the half of the map Skeeter had in his pants back in her
purse. He’d done something rotten and it had been for nothing.
Served him right.
He holed up in his suite for the
afternoon, hoping to come to terms with himself. He wasn’t used to feeling like
a heel, and he didn’t like
it.His
growling stomach
drove him out around 5:00
p.m.

A
piece of paper fell across his feet when he opened the door. He stooped and picked
it up. Mallory had gone riding. She promised to stay off the desert and
wouldn’t be gone long. There was no way to know how long it had been there.
Hours or minutes?
He didn’t care if she rode the horses,
they could use the exercise, but for her own safety he wished she wouldn’t have
gone alone. No matter how well someone
rode
accidents
could happen.

Maybe
someone had seen her leave. He checked the lodge, but nobody was around. He
walked outside and half-jogged toward the stables. At the fence, he did a quick
head count. Zorro was missing. At least she’d picked a reliable mount. All the
horses were good, but some were more trustworthy than others.
As he debated whether to try and follow her or not, Dianna walked
up.

 
“Going riding?”

 
“I’m not sure. Mallory went for a ride by
herself. I should go after her.”

Dianna’s
mouth twisted. “Who’s she on?”

 
“Zorro.”

 
“She’ll be fine. He’s safe.”

Although
she repeated what he thought, he wasn’t convinced. If she stayed on the road, there
shouldn’t be any problem, but if she strayed off into the unmarked desert she
could easily lose her way.

 
“Where are the others?” he asked.

 
“Brent took the dented Durango to Mesa to the
body shop. I assume Alan and Shelby are in their cabin.” She stuffed her hands
in the pockets of her khaki pants and hunched her shoulders. “I’m going to
leave in a few minutes to pick him up. Why do you need the others?”

 
“I just wondered if anyone saw where Mallory
went. I don’t like her being out alone.” He scanned the horizon.

 
“I don’t know, but I wish she’d leave for
good.” Dianna’s thick brows pulled together. “She’s a hindrance. And worse, she
could be a real problem. If she finds out what we did, she could ruin
everything.”

She
was right, but her implied threat irritated him. He could imagine how angry and
hurt Mallory would be if she found out he’d had anything to do with her
cholla
incident. “A couple more days and she’ll go home.
Just let it be.”

She
shot him a wounded look he hated. “I’m just looking out for you.
Just like I always have.”

 
“I know.” He squeezed the back of his neck.
Tension settled there and he couldn’t seem to shake it.

 
“Let me.” Before he could say no, she moved
behind him and began to massage his knotted muscle. Dianna had been Elisha’s friend
in college, not his. He’d never liked her as much as she liked him. When his
affair with Elisha ended, he’d expected Dianna to leave with her, but she’d
chosen to stay at the ranch. He knew she wanted to pick up where Elisha left
off, but he had no interest.

He
tolerated her touch long enough to make her think she’d helped, then moved. “I
think I’ll go hunt for Mallory. I don’t like her being out alone.”

 
“Happy hunting,” Dianna said. “I have to go.
Brent will be waiting.”

 
“Go then,” he said a bit impatiently.

 
“Don’t forget who your friends are,” she
warned. “We’ve all got a lot at stake. Not just you. Don’t let another pretty
face deter you from what you have to do.” She
whirled
away from him and stomped to her car. Jumping in, she revved the motor and
threw gravel as she tore out.

Chapter
Eleven

If
he didn’t owe her so much, Mike would tell Dianna to hit the road. However,
she’d taken not only a pay cut—more than half—but she’d stood by him when the
ranch closed. Her possessiveness was wearing on him, but he didn’t want to hurt
her either. He would have to set her straight, but right now he had another
woman to worry about.
Mallory.
She was probably fine,
but he needed to find out for his own peace of mind.

He
caught and saddled a brown gelding with white splashes across his rump.

After
mounting, he guided the gelding up the road. Zorro’s tracks were plain as day
in the sand. The sun drifted toward the horizon.
Only a
couple more hours until sunset.
As usual, when he rode by the signs the
SRPL had strewn about, his chest felt like it was going to explode. He resisted
the urge to ride over to them and kick them down with his boots.

For
anyone to suggest he would harm the desert he loved so much was ludicrous.
Every day hundreds of acres of desert were churned up for more houses. Why
didn’t someone stop that?

His
head pounded and he made an effort to breathe more slowly. He reached the road
Mallory had followed, and he tracked her. He knew it well. At the top there was
a nice overlook and if you knew where to look,
petroglyphs
scratched into a boulder. He often brought guests up here to admire the
centuries old art. But he hadn’t been this way since the ranch closed.

Off
to his left, he heard the echo of
hoofbeats
coming
from the sandy canyon below. Under him, Geronimo neighed, and the other horse
answered. How had Mallory gotten down there? He turned the Appaloosa that
direction. There was no trail, but it was easy enough to angle down the hill.
Taking care to skirt the all-too-ready-to-attack
cholla
,
he moved his horse at a quick pace.

He
came out in a flat, six-foot wash. He waited a minute to see which way his
spotted gelding would look. The horse would tell him which way Zorro was. Sure enough,
his ears perked forward and he lifted his head, looking up the canyon.

A
bend in the ravine prohibited him from seeing very far, but he knew Geronimo
wouldn’t mislead him. Tapping the horse with his heels, he trotted toward the
other horse. As he rounded the bend, Zorro nearly ran them down. The
black-and-white pinto, nearly white with foaming sweat, had no rider and no
saddle. His eyes were wide and his nostrils were flared and rose red,
indicating he’d run a far distance. What had happened? Why were his rider and
saddle missing?

Mike
rose in his stirrups and shouted.
“Mallory?”

Zorro’s
labored breathing bounced off the sandy walls, but nothing else.

 
“Come on, boy. We’ve got to find her.”
Dragging Zorro behind him, he loped up the wash.

~*~

Mallory
lay still for a few seconds before she moved her arms, legs, neck, and head.
Nothing was broken, but the fingers on her left hand hurt quite a bit. She’d
broken her fall with her hands and the left one had taken the brunt of her
weight. At least it hadn’t been her head. She couldn’t draw enough air; the
wind had been knocked out of her. Lying still, she concentrated on breathing
until her lungs filled and emptied normally.

She
spit out sand and rolled to her back. What had upset Zorro? He’d been galloping
away from the spooky Jeep, and out of the blue, he’d begun to buck. A fair
rider, she’d stuck with him on the first couple of jumps, but the third had
sent her flying like a
frisbee
.
He’d seemed to get madder and leaped harder as he went, but maybe that had been
her imagination. Either way, the result was the same. She’d landed face first
in the sand.

Coming
to her feet, legs wobbling, she didn’t bother to look for Zorro. He’d dumped
her faster than a blind date and run for home like
Seabiscuit
on the home stretch. She did want to see if she could find what scared him
though, and she began to retrace her steps. Just a few feet from where she’d
landed, she found the saddle and blanket. That was odd. She came off because
she wasn’t used to riding in the rodeo, but there was no reason for the saddle
to come loose. She’d tightened it herself, and double checked it before she got
on.

She
bent and picked up the saddle blanket. Thick wool with a Navajo pattern across
it, the blanket’s texture was a little rough. But as her fingers curled around
the edge, she noticed something else. She knew the sensation oh-too-well.
Flipping the blanket over, she found it—a piece of cactus nearly buried in the
wool. Located right under the pommel, it wouldn’t touch a horse until it worked
all the way through and poked him in the withers. Mallory stared at the
offensive plant. How had it gotten there? She’d taken great pains to avoid the
plants when she’d cut off the road. Besides, the location of the cactus made it
obvious she hadn’t picked it up herself. Placed right in front of the saddle
horn, at the end of Zorro’s mane, there was no way it could have gotten there
without her seeing it, and getting it in her as well.

She
supposed it might have been picked up by another horse on another ride.

Just
as quickly as she thought of that, she discarded it. Not only had the blanket
been lying face up on top of the pile, she’d picked the blanket up herself and
her hand had rested exactly where the cactus lay. With one hand at each end of
the pad, she’d lifted it and tossed it over Zorro’s back.

The
cactus hadn’t been there.

Someone
had done it deliberately to make him buck.

But when?
Mallory held the thick wool pad in numb hands and
retraced her steps from when she saddled the horse. She’d run into the lodge to
get a coke and write a note. If someone was quick, they could’ve taken that
opportunity to sabotage her.

This
was too much. She could’ve been hurt badly or even killed. Sand might look
soft, but it was a whole lot harder to land in than she ever imagined. Her
fingers ached and she was pretty sure she’d jammed at least two of them. If she
would’ve gotten hung up in the saddle, she could’ve been dragged to death. Her
legs went shaky and she plopped to her behind right in the middle of the wash,
still holding the evidence.

She
was still sitting there a few minutes later when Mike rode into sight, leading
Zorro. He reined in and jumped off, dropping both horses’ reins. They dropped
their heads to look for a snack in the dirt. He ran toward her and skidded to a
stop, dropping to his knees at her side.

 
“Are you all right?”

Laughter
bubbled up out of her. She didn’t find the situation particularly funny, but if
she didn’t laugh, she’d cry.
For a long time.
He
tipped his head and studied her.
That made her laugh
harder. She laughed until her sides ached and she couldn’t breathe. Mike looked
at her like she’d lost her marbles, and maybe she had.

Back
home in Las Vegas she had a nice home, a good job, even a cat.
 
Here she had one weird occurrence after
another. Somebody didn’t want her around. She could take a hint. The minute
Skeeter’s
body was
released,
she’d
head home and forget any of this ever happened. Her hysteria lessened, turned
to giggles, then hiccups.

Mike
waited patiently. “Are you hurt?”

She
held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. That hurt and she blinked back sudden
tears. “I think they’re jammed.”

He
took her hand in his larger one and examined her fingers with careful scrutiny.
His concern touched her. He probably thought she was injuring herself just to
get him to hold her hand. He let go. “I think you’re right. Not broken anyway.
I’ll take you to the clinic when we get back.”

She
nodded. She wasn’t going anywhere but to a motel.

 
“What happened?” He picked up the blanket.
“What’s this?”

She
pointed to the nearly hidden cactus. “There.”

He
ran his palm over it. “How did that get there?”

 
“You tell me.” She pointed up the wash with
the hand that didn’t ache. “I came that way and I know I didn’t run into any
Cholla or any other prickly plant.” She took a deep breath and met his eyes.
“Somebody planted that there.”

He
didn’t deny it or try to explain it away.

Surprised,
she couldn’t find more words. Did he know she spoke the truth? Was he
responsible or know who did it?

He
stood. “Where’s the saddle?”

She
shrugged. “I don’t know. I only got this far.”

 
“I’ll look for it.” He turned away and she
climbed to her feet.

 
“Not without me.” She trudged through the sand
after him.

A
few feet from where she’d landed, the saddle lay upside down in the dirt. Like
two wings pointing in opposite directions, the white cinch
lay
split down the middle. Mike knelt and picked it up.

 
“This must’ve
broke
when he bucked.”

Mallory,
bending on the other side, had a different take. “It didn’t break. Somebody cut
it.” She held up her side. “Look.
Too straight for a break.
If this was weak or ragged, there would be some roughened area where it had
worn out. This is perfectly straight.
And new.
Someone
did this.” She looked up and pinned her coldest stare on him. “I want to know
who. And why.”

He
dropped his side and for a minute, she thought he was going to deny it. His
shoulders sagged. “I don’t know.”

 
“You agree then?” Her voice went icy. She’d
had all she was going to take from this show of horrors.

 
“Yes. I’d say someone cut this.”

 
“Why?” She advanced and pointed at him. “No
more lies, Mike. Don’t try to make me believe I don’t know what I’m talking
about. Since I got here, there’s been one thing after another you have tried to
make me believe is my mind playing tricks on me. But I’m not crazy. I know what
I know.”

 
“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said. “I’m
not trying to make you think you’re losing it.”

 
“Aren’t you? You tried to make me think I
didn’t hear a horse being ridden off into the desert when I know I did.” She
held up her injured hands and held them toward him. “You tried to make me think
you came from the lodge when you very clearly came from the river. Then, when I
saw Brent in Goldfield, you told me I didn’t. Why?”

He
had the grace to look ashamed. “I honestly didn’t think Brent followed us. And,
yes, I was in the desert the night you fell in
cholla
.
I went to make sure there wasn’t any trouble and I heard you scream. I thought
you’d think it odd, being out at that time of night.”

She
dropped her hands to her sides. “Did you also put cactus under my saddle
blanket and cut the cinch? That’s more than making me think I didn’t hear or
see something, that’s criminal. I could’ve been killed.”

He
shook his head from side to side. “No. I swear. I don’t know anything about
that.”

She
wanted to believe him. He looked so miserable she almost softened. “But you do
know who rode the horse into the desert the night before last, don’t you?”

He
met her eyes, and his were full of guilt. “No.”

He
stood in front of her and lied to her face.

Mallory’s
stomach churned and she forced down nausea. Why wouldn’t he tell her the truth?
He seemed so decent, but he wasn’t who he appeared to be. If he was willing to lie
about that he was probably lying about sabotaging her saddle. She didn’t know
what to think. He had kissed her last night. He had wanted to sleep with her.
If only he’d come clean. She stumbled back a step and he reached to catch her.
She raised her hand, palm out. “Don’t.”

He
frowned and picked up the saddle.

As
he turned away, she called after him. “There’s something else.”

He
looked her direction. “What?”

 
“There’s an abandoned Jeep just up there.
That’s what I was running from.” Standing in the middle of a wide, sandy
arroyo, she felt foolish. But her intuition had told her something was wrong
and she believed what it told her.

 
“Probably just a sightseer who took a walk,”
he said. His slight smirk suggested he thought she had overreacted. She knew she
hadn’t.

 
“I don’t think so.” Her tone told him she
meant it. “I think something’s wrong.”

 
“Like what?”

She
didn’t want to say it. “I’m not sure, but there’s something wrong. I know it.”

 
“What are you saying? Spit it out?” His whole
attention was focused on her.

She
swallowed. “I think someone’s dead.”

 
“What?” His eyes opened wide. “Why?”

 
“I don’t know for sure. I just sensed it.” She
waved toward the horses. “He did, too. At least something made him very nervous
up there.”

 
“Zorro probably just wanted to get back to the
other horses. Besides, you’re in no shape to ride anymore.” Clearly, Mike
didn’t want to go.

 
“Would you just take a look? Please?” She
walked toward the horses.
“Never mind.
I’ll call the
sheriff myself when I get back to the lodge. Maybe he’ll listen to me.”

 
“No,” Mike said quickly. “I’ll go. Can you
handle Geronimo? I’ll ride Zorro bareback.”

Although
she wasn’t thrilled to jump back on a horse, Mallory knew she wouldn’t rest
until she set her mind at ease. Mike held the Appaloosa’s reins until she
mounted, then he adjusted her stirrups. Seeing she was set, he swung up on the
pinto’s broad back.