Renee Simons Special Edition (48 page)

"Not safe enough, seems like."

"Who'd have thought," she said

"Who's the J.D. in your life?"

"What makes you think there was one?"

"You're alone by choice, just like me. Who was he?"

"He was an account of mine. I didn't know he was married so at the end it was messy. And I didn't handle it well."

"Not possible."

Callie sighed at the dark memory. "It's true. I was hurt and mortified that I'd fallen for his line. His wife was understandably bitter, but I wasn't prepared for a physical attack on top of the verbal whip lashing. I folded, sold the business to my employees and ran home to Lucinda with my tail between my legs. Not a pretty sight, I can assure you."

No wonder the graffiti had been so upsetting, he thought. "I can't picture you knuckling under."

"I swore it would never happen again."

"Which — falling in love or turning tail?"

"Both." She turned in her seat and watched his profile. "So far, I've broken one of my promises. Let's hope I can keep the second."

"I'd like to help with both."

"But?"

"I have to see what this doctor says."

"Nothing he could say would change things for me."

"It would for me."

"Because you have people depending on you."

He nodded, but kept his eyes on the road ahead. A muscle clenched and unclenched in his jaw. This wasn't easy for him, she knew.

"And you don't want to be responsible for anyone else."

"I can't afford to."

"What if money was no object?"

"Money has nothing to do with it."

I wonder
, she thought.
You have to be the strong one, the one everyone else turns to in a crisis, the one who must never need help. How much peace of mind would a little more money provide?

"Answer my question."

"Money would provide the family with some security, but we talked about this before."

"Yes we did, but I didn't know then what I know now."

"Which is?"

The university entrance loomed. She pointed out the front window. "After you see the doctor."

"I don't have an appointment until the morning. We'll get a couple of rooms and have some dinner. You can tell me then."

"A couple of rooms?" She grinned. "Are you afraid of me?"

"Absolutely."

The irony in his tone was hard to miss, no less than the smile turning up one corner of his mouth.

The rooms were in a small, Spanish-style hotel near the university; they ate dinner in a quiet restaurant nearby. Afterwards, they explored the campus, its paths and gardens, the colonial Spanish revival buildings by one of
New Mexico
's most illustrious architects. Somewhere around midnight they went back to their rooms.

Two hours later, Callie gave up on sleep. She opened one of a pair of connecting doors. Luc answered her knock on the other and stepped aside to let her into his room.

"I heard you pacing," she said.

"Thin walls."

She pointed to the sofa near the curtained windows. "Let's sit."

She grabbed a throw pillow and placed it across her lap. "Lie down."

Without protest, Luc eased down, resting his head on the pillow with a groan. His long legs dangled over one arm of the couch and his right arm grazed the carpet beside him.

"This sofa was made for short people," Callie said. "Would you be more comfortable on the bed?"

He tipped his head back and eyed her. "Are you propositioning me?"

"Wouldn't think of it, Sheriff. Not until we see the doctor tomorrow." She passed a finger across his forehead, combing back the shock of hair that hung over his brow. "But after that...."

He took her uninjured hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. "After that you may not care."

"If this … thing … weren't hanging over our heads, how would you feel about a future for us?"

He reached up and pulled her head down for a warm, gentle kiss. "There's more than just 'this thing' to consider."

"Meaning?"

"I just called home. The mining engineer's report came in. Mine's a no-go."

"Why?"

"There isn't enough ore left to make startup worthwhile. And there's the problem of the cyanide. When the mining operation was coming to an end, the operators used cyanide to extract whatever gold was left in the tailings, which were then dumped back into the mine. The cost of cleanup would be prohibitive."

"Is there any danger to the house? More importantly, to anyone living there?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"I found a tunnel leading from the mine to The Mansion’s basement. There's nothing separating them but two wooden doors and maybe a mile’s distance."

He cocked his head back again, causing their glances to meet. "And you discovered this when?"

"During one of my explorations.”

“You were supposed to stay out of there.”

“I figured if the house is mine, so is the tunnel.”

He grimaced. “Convenient rationalization.”

“I found a small handcar and train tracks. Maybe that's how your father and my grandmother found a way to meet — assuming they didn't want anyone to know."

"A pretty good assumption. I'm sure my father wouldn't have been considered prime marriage material for Lucinda."

"I don't think she felt that way, not until her heart was broken, that is."

"If they'd stayed together you and I would be different people."

"Maybe I’d be your sister...."

"Or a cousin. That wouldn't be too bad."

"A first would be."

"You're right," he said with a smile. "I'm sorry for them, but glad for us."

"Me, too. So, what do you think about the cyanide and the house?"

"I don't know
querida
. We'll have to talk to some mining people when we get back."

"Or hazardous materials experts."

"Whatever it takes," he said.

She sighed. "I hate waiting for answers."

"Seems like waiting is all you've done since you got to Blue Sky. I'm sorry for my part in that."

"I'm hoping that eventually it will all be worthwhile."

"If you get to keep your house?"

She smiled. “The house is only a small part of it.”

“I remember when it was the biggest part.”

“A lot has changed since then.”

He reached up and lightly touched her cheek. “I hope you get everything you want. Including the house.”

Her sigh reflected her mind set. “What happens if it's sitting on a hazardous waste site?"

"Could be a lose-lose situation for us. We don't get our mine and you have to give up the house." He took her hand and placed a kiss on the palm. "We'll finally be on the same side."

* * *

Some time during the night, Luc must have switched rooms. Callie knew this because she was tucked into his bed and he was nowhere to be seen when she awoke. For a moment or two she wasn’t sure what had roused her, but then the commotion coming from the other side of the door leading to her room sent her speeding out of bed.

Cautiously opening the door and looking inside, she was astonished to see Luc straddling a bulky man, grinding his face into the carpet and wrenching the man’s hands behind his back as the captive growled and struggled to free himself.

“Luc?” Callie whispered.

He looked up. “Get my cuffs. Then call 911.” He jerked his head to the right, directing her to the heavy gun belt, minus its weapon, that straddled the back of an armchair.

By the time the man was bound and Callie went to the phone, two uniformed officers stood in the open doorway to the room.

“Hey,
Moreno
, we got a call about a disturbance. You doin’ business outside your jurisdiction?”

Luc turned his head. “Hola,
chico
. Just helping to keep the scum off your streets.”

“
Que pasa
, amigo?” The two officers entered the room and crouched beside Luc and his captive. The older of the two,
Chico
by name, had asked the question. The younger officer took out a small notepad and pen.

“This gentleman,” Luc answered, “is Charlie Dunn. He is currently under investigation for a possible parole violation as well as for an attempt against the life of Ms. Patterson, over there. Near as I can figure, he followed us from home with the thought of finishing what he failed to do only a few days ago.”

“How come you figure that,
compadre
?”

“Well, this room is registered to Ms. Patterson. We traded rooms last night, which he wouldn’t have known, and he attempted to attack me with that object lying beside the bed. I managed to subdue him before he did too much damage.”

Chico
pointed to a bruise on Luc’s temple. “He got in a lick or two, I see.”

Luc smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, well, I turned away and the blow glanced off my head.”

“Your hard head, you mean.” The officers examined a tire iron. “We’ll bag this thing and get it typed for blood and prints. You want to turn him over to us?”

“For the moment. We have an appointment in about an hour. We’ll be over to see you after we’re finished with our business.”

“We’ll book him for assault and hold him until you come in and let us know what you want to do.”

“Thanks, Sergeant Rivera.” Luc turned to Callie. “Let’s get ourselves over to the university.”

When Luc left for his appointment with Dr. Gerrold, Callie went to the library. She searched the microfiche files and then the stacks for a history of the region. Each of the four books she found mentioned Francisco Moreno and his stewardship of the
Valley
of
Gold
, but only one went into detail that paralleled Luc’s narration at the fiesta.

To her delight the article referred to Doña Constanza as Francisco’s wife and the matriarch of the
Moreno
family. They had died within weeks of each other, Constanza first, and then by everyone’s guess at the time, Francisco. A guess because, as Luc had said, the patriarch had gone off to die alone, leaving his burial place a mystery.

“Not anymore,” Callie whispered. Oh, Luc, she thought, how will you receive this news? And will your life be better for it? She sighed. “I hope so.”

And what about her own life? She’d planned it all so well after Gram had died. She would move to Blue Sky and set about restoring The Mansion and making it self-supporting. Once that had been accomplished, she could make a new start somewhere else, with her trust money available to ease the way.

Now it looked as if none of it would happen. If her suspicions were correct, the house sat on or close to a huge hazardous waste site. Even if the experts were to declare it habitable, she would never have a moment’s peace of mind. Having gotten more than one whiff of the gaseous air in the deepest part of the tunnel, she could never live in the house or ask anyone else to chance it. Unfortunately, if she couldn’t live there for the required period of time, the money and her new beginning would be denied her.

She gazed idly around the room and then down at the portrait of Don Francisco that reminded her so much of Luc’s father. She wondered how long “Señor Miner” had worked to create his wonderland below ground and what it had taken for his descendants to hold on to their legacy.

Generations of Morenos had met many challenges. Her own ancestors had started their lives over more than once. Could she do any less? She would halt the restoration, come to a settlement with J.D. and Nick and sell off the furnishings she’d worked so hard to recover. The proceeds would provide a small nest egg for the next phase of her life, whatever or wherever that might be.

So where was Luc in all this? Her heart sank. She would have to leave the valley. He never would.

Chapter Twelve

Callie left the library and walked back to the building where she’d left Luc. He’d just cleared the door and met her at the bottom of the steps.

“How did you make out?” she asked.

“Better than expected.”

“I sense a “but” in there somewhere.”

“Do you want the long or the short version.”

They’d been walking side by side. Now Callie stopped him with a hand on his arm. He turned to her.

“I want to know it all.”

“Okay. Let’s keep on walking. The doc says it’s a condition called central serous retinopathy, but CSR is easier to remember and to say. Near as I can tell, fluid builds up behind the retina causing distortion of vision and a detachment if it goes on too long.”