Love's Dream Song (15 page)

Her breath stuck in her throat while her heart thudded. What was he talking about? “You don’t think they want to sell the treasure and keep the money for themselves?”

He shook his head. Surprised, Autumn started to ask why, but a noise silenced her. Rocks slid several yards from where they lay hidden. Footsteps sounded.

“That’s him.” Jess stood and pulled her behind him. “Let’s go.”

They followed the trail up the canyon. Ahead the steep walls split and she knew another wash opened into the gulch. She tugged on Jess’s arm to point out the new danger. It seemed her heartbeat drummed in her ears, deafening her to the sounds around them. She shook her head to clear her hearing and vision.

Nothing stirred in the midmorning heat. Not even a breeze moved the leaves of the bush clinging precariously to the edge of the cliff. Only the faint hum of an insect sounded. The air stifled her with thick tension.

“What is it?” Autumn whispered after they had halted for several minutes behind a gnarled root washed up during a previous flood.

“A split in the canyon. We don’t know which branch he’s taken. He might be hiding out to trap us.” A rock clattered down the cliff wall to their feet and they both stood still to listen.

Silence.

After endless minutes, Jess took a step. Still they heard no sound. At the intersection, he scrambled under an outcropping of rocks. She followed. They both lay in the sand, breathing deeply to ease their tension. Her nerves finally settled and she focused on her surroundings.

The canyon to the right was narrow, with sheer walls—not a good place to hide, because you could see everything in the canyon before it twisted around a bend. Fallen boulders lined the edges of the wash on the left, making it a perfect place for an ambush. It would be the direction she would take. She pointed to the set of tracks. Some were fresh; others had hardened in the drying mud.

“Which way?” Autumn muttered.

Studying the churned-up ground, Jess shook his head. “The trail leads both ways.”

“You take that branch and I’ll take this one.” She gestured to the right.

“No way. We stay together.” He slid from under the rock and pointed to the left. “We’ll go this way. The footprints are not sunk in the mud.”

“Meaning?”

“The ground was wetter this morning, which would make his prints deeper. These shallow tracks are probably more recent.”

She fingered the nugget as she considered that possibility. In any case, the gunman was trying to confuse them with the double set of tracks. If they followed the wrong ones, he’d gain more time. They’d have to take the risk.

“If we don’t find anything, we’ll stop for a break before coming back. I have some granola bars and nuts in my pack.” He patted the straps across his shoulders. “It’ll be enough for some quick energy.”

It took an hour to reach the dead end of the box canyon—a grueling climb over boulders and around pockets of sand. By the time they realized the man they were chasing hadn’t come this way, they were ready for a rest.

Discouraged, they sat in the pile of rocks to eat.

There weren’t any trees for shade, or rock overhang to protect them from the afternoon sun—just a jumbled mass of boulders. It looked like a giant bulldozer had shoved them into the end of the gulch. Autumn leaned against a concave rock while Jess sat slightly below her, balanced on the edge of another.

Nothing moved. No animals scurried about for food. Autumn searched the sky in the eerie silence, hoping to see the eagle. It was nowhere in sight.

* * *

Jess chewed on the crunchy granola and watched Autumn. She looked as tired as he felt. He wished he could talk her into going back to Coyote Springs, where she’d be safe. Even if she was involved in this, he didn’t want her around when he caught up with that gunman.

And why was that?
He knew. His belief that Autumn was innocent was a gut reaction. He didn’t want proof that she was involved in this—not yet.

The fact that she had thought the gunman was Arlo bothered him. True, the man might want to sabotage the archaeological dig, but he wouldn’t shoot at them. Autumn had picked the wrong fall guy, if that was, in fact, what she was trying to do.

Of course, Real Tall Man had warned her of danger in reference to Arlo. If she was indeed innocent, it could very well be the reason she assumed the gunman was her uncle. It could be that Real Tall Man had found out about Arlo’s involvement with Jess and the task force, and that was why he had warned Autumn. If the
hataali
knew of it, he would realize that the men from the drug operation were out there and dangerous.

Of course, he couldn’t explain any of this to Autumn. His insistence that it wasn’t Arlo would clue her in to the fact that he and Arlo were collaborating in some way. He couldn’t afford to let anyone know that, in case one of them was caught by the ring.

The paper crackled as he unwrapped another bar. He glanced around the box canyon. Anger and frustration lent force to each chew on the nutty food. Pretty clever of the gunman to trick him like this, he thought. He probably had laid out this diversion early this morning. He must have figured someone would follow. It was rotten luck that he’d picked this trail.

They had wasted two good hours. The canyon wasn’t that long, but he had moved slowly in case it had been booby-trapped. He had seen some of the clever rigs the smugglers used to keep strangers out of their territory. He wasn’t taking any chances.

He leaned his head back against the rock. He stretched his long legs and willed his muscles to relax. He had been keeping a steady pace since dawn and his body was beginning to feel it. Autumn must notice the strain also.

“What time did you leave this morning?” he asked.

“Around four. You?”

“Three thirty,” he admitted. “Not much ahead of you.”

He watched her take a bite of peanuts. She flinched when salt stung her lip where she’d cut it during their struggle. He stared at the spot where the tip of her tongue soothed the sting. He started to reach for her but stopped, clenching his fists in his lap instead. He wanted to hold her and tell her he would take care of everything. But until he knew who was out there, he couldn’t do that.

“Are you hurt?” he asked instead.

She didn’t speak, but swallowed hard. Finally, she shook her head. He wanted answers, but none were there. Tension pulled heavily as he searched for truth and trust.

A rock rolled and a footstep sounded. He jumped up and Autumn straightened. Several yards away, dry brush rustled in the quiet of the gulch. With a protective shove that was more automatic than premeditated, he pushed Autumn behind a rock and followed. Together they stood, ready to surprise whoever approached. Her fingers curled into his arm. They were boxed in.

Movement sounded again. In slow motion, Jess bent and slid his knife from his boot. The smooth handle against his skin gave him a small measure of reassurance.

A loud snort startled them both. He braced for attack until he saw the tan fur and curled horns of a mountain sheep. When it caught sight of the two humans, it stopped and stared. Autumn laughed, and then Jess did, too. The animal grunted in obvious disgust and swung around to tear down the canyon.

“I bet we ruined his afternoon nap.” Autumn chuckled.

“He ruined
my
urge for one,” Jess agreed. But he didn’t mind the interruption. It was good therapy to laugh and release the built-up tension. The smile on her face sent pleasure through the doubts and frustration of this miserable day. For a brief moment, he wondered if he’d ever have a chance to see more of her sunshine, to hear the husky tenor of her laugh.

“That reminds me of the time you took me to the high country. Do you remember? We woke up from a nap and saw a mountain lion.”

He remembered the puma, but more than that, he remembered what had happened after they had sighted the animal. They’d been lying in a meadow carpeted with wildflowers. The large animal had frightened Autumn, but seeing the sleek beast had excited him. He’d claimed she needed a distraction, and his demonstration of the love play of the wildcat had worked. He could still remember the taste of her as he nipped her bared shoulder. Sunlight had kissed her bare thighs and he’d crawled behind her with the stealth of a cat.

Jess closed his eyes and willed the memory to fade.

“It’s rare to see sheep at this low elevation.” Her husky voice interrupted his thoughts. He watched her stuff the paper wrappers in the outer pocket of her pack. Her fingers shook and he wondered if she remembered the sexual play as well. “I thought they lived in the mountains.”

“They were hunted by the Anasazi.” Jess hoisted her pack onto her shoulders. “They were used for food, clothing, utensils—just like the Plains tribes used buffalo.”

Jess put on his own pack and tightened the straps. He grabbed his rifle, the metal hot from the sun. Gingerly he shouldered it, gripping the cooler wood stock. When they were both ready, he headed back down the trail. They’d already traveled the route up the wash and knew the gunman wasn’t there. They didn’t need to be so quiet on the return.

“Do you think Arlo’s involved in this?” He knew Arlo wasn’t shooting at them, but he needed to know what her thoughts were.

“He hates anything involved with the Anglo world and the federal government. He was one of the families relocated when they redistributed the reservation. He is bitter about it,” she told him. “Most of the people who had to move were required to give up their land when they finally divided the joint-use area for grazing sheep.”

“Revenge could explain the motive for burying those stone slabs,” he muttered aloud, pretending to go along with her.

“I don’t think so. Arlo would figure the
chindi
would take care of revenge.”

“What about drugs?” He threw out the question, stopping to watch her expression.

Incredulity registered. “Be serious. True, he participates in the peyote cult, but he gets that in the desert. He’s too orthodox in the ways of the Navajo to get involved in the drug scene.”

The sincerity in her voice eased some of his doubts, but her next speculation aroused new ones.

“What about Frank or Wayne, or even Connie, for that matter?” she asked. “If they’re in on this, they would be interested in the value of the artifacts. Destroying the stones would bring a big news flash. And attention.”

He stared hard at her. Did she honestly consider the possibility, or was she trying to throw him another curve? “We’ll find out soon enough,” he vowed as he continued hiking down the trail.

“I’m worried about the professor. If the others are involved, he and the party could be in more danger.”

The thought had crossed Jess’s mind. He wished he had a radio. “There’s safety in numbers.” He tried to assure himself as well as her. “The blast occurred when everyone was at the other site. I doubt whoever is involved wants murder on his hands.”

“I hope you’re right.”

When they neared the intersection where the trail had split, Jess slowed his pace. “We’ve lost time, but we’d still better be careful. We don’t know how far up this other canyon he’s gone.”

Autumn nodded her assent and continued to follow in silence. Only the sound of gravel underfoot and the occasional squish of wet sand could be heard. After about five miles, the canyon widened and it was easier to avoid possible spits of quicksand.

Finally, they came to the end of the steep-walled canyon. Jess halted.

“This part of the gulch is going to be a problem,” he told her.

“How’s that?” Autumn stepped beside him.

Jess wiped his face and neck with his bandanna and scanned the rocky terrain. “There are at least a dozen side canyons, not to mention all the possible places to hide in the area itself.”

A growth of saltbush trailed out of sight in a curved line, marking the usual flow of water. Steep walls continued to embrace the eastern ridge, but to the west, the face of the cliff had crumbled into a jumble of rocky outcroppings—perfect places to hide.

“Where should we start?” A note of exhaustion sounded in Autumn’s voice. “Why don’t we stop and rest awhile,” she suggested. “Then we’ll crisscross the floor of the gulch and look for any clues that he’s been through. There won’t be many tracks because he can hop across the rocks.”

“Sounds good. We can’t keep up this pace much longer.” He wiped the canteen with the loose tail of his shirt and handed it to her.

* * *

For a brief instant, it occurred to her that he was being agreeable to her suggestion. Unlike most men, who always struggled to be in charge, Jess accepted her ideas and theories without question. Was he patronizing her, or did he truly think her ideas had some merit?

She stared at his tanned features, framed by his breeze-tossed hair. Should she ask him? No. She replaced the lid to the canteen. She handed it back to him and moved toward the rocks. “Come on. We can rest over there.”

They took turns dozing in the afternoon heat. After an hour they stashed their packs in a crevice and headed back on their search.

Long shadows fell across the rock-strewn floor when Jess finally stopped. They had left the rifle and canteen below and were standing on a high pile of rocks with their backs to a steep cliff. She looked at the panorama of colors. At any other time, the golden rays of the setting sun highlighting the red and orange colors in the rocks would move her. Not tonight. Frustration and weariness dulled her appreciation. She needed what little energy remained for the long night ahead, when she’d have to stay alert for the gunman.