Deadly Sanctuary

Table of Contents

 

 

 

 

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author���s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1998 by Sylvia Nobel

2nd Printing Sept. 1998 - 3rd Printing Oct. 2000 - 4th Printing Jan, 2003

5
^th
Printing April, 2004 - 6
^th
Printing May, 2009

E-Book Edition Publication Date: April, 2009

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher.

 

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ISBN 978-0-9661105-1-7

eISBN : 97-8-098-24414-5

 

Cover Design by

ATG Productions, LLC.

Christy A. Moeller -
www.atgproductions.com

 

Library of Congress Control Number: 97-75426

The author also wishes to acknowledge the invaluable assistance of the following people:

 

 

“Oh...my...God. What have I done?” I murmured aloud, staring transfixed at the barren desert valley below the roadside overlook. No way could this be my new home. No way. As I consulted the Arizona road map once again, a hostile brown wind charged up the steep cliff, whirling my hair into a tangle and filling my eyes with grit.

I began to regret my impulsive decision to take the newspaper job in Castle Valley. But, had there been any choice? All through the drive from Pennsylvania I had tortured myself with ‘If onlys.’ If only I hadn’t been forced to a drier climate because of asthma. If only I hadn’t lost my job at the
Philadelphia Inquirer
. If only Grant hadn’t dumped me. If only, if only…

An odd smell and snuffling sound made me whirl around. Instantly, I froze in shock at the sight of eight weird-looking creatures approximately the size of large dogs standing between me and the safety of my car.

A tentative step forward caused one of the grayish, bristle-coated animals to let out a snort and clatter its long, sharp tusks. What the devil were these things? They looked ferocious, like something out of a science fiction movie. Heart hammering, I shrank back against the stone retaining wall and edged a glance behind me to the sheer drop. There was no escape unless I suddenly developed the ability to fly.

A surge of panic contracted my chest. Stay calm, I urged myself. The last thing I needed right now was an asthma attack and to make matters worse, I realized that I’d left my inhaler in the car. If only a balky fuel pump hadn’t detoured me off the freeway to Prescott for repairs, I wouldn’t have even been in this godforsaken spot.

For whatever reason, the strange beasts suddenly lost interest in me. They dipped their heads and rooted among the dry weeds, flicking only an occasional wary look at me. I wondered what else I could do to screw up my life.

As I stood baking in the warm April sunlight, I cringed inwardly remembering how my well-meaning father had oversold my abilities to his old newspaper colleague Morton Tuggs, convincing him that I was already an experienced investigative reporter.

“Dad!” I’d whispered fiercely, “You know I was only in research.”

He’d cupped his hand over the receiver. “It’s not like you have a lot of options, Kendall. This place isn’t far from Phoenix and he’s got an opening right now. You talk to him.” He set the phone against my ear.

After I’d introduced myself, he explained that not only would my investigative background be a plus, he also needed someone he could trust. Three weeks prior, he stated, one of his reporters had mysteriously vanished without a trace.

That snagged my interest, but I felt a vague sense of foreboding when he seemed reluctant to answer any further questions on the phone.

“If you decide to take the job,” he’d added gruffly, “we’ll talk more when you arrive.”

That would have been the time to confess my amateur status, but I’d said nothing.

The sound of an approaching vehicle pulled my attention to the road and a surge of relief washed over me when a tan pickup pulling a horse trailer roared into view. I waved my hand and the truck eased to a stop on the far side of the road. Two men got out. The driver, a tall lanky man wearing mirrored sunglasses, strolled toward me then stopped in his tracks and stared.

His older companion limped up behind him and gestured to my Volvo. “You got car trouble?”

I shook my head and pointed. Both men peered around the car, looked back at me, at each other, then broke into wide grins.

“Those pigs botherin’ you, little lady?” asked the tall one, tipping the hat off his forehead, his mouth working a piece of gum. There was an unmistakable note of sarcasm in his voice.

Pigs? These hairy, sharp-toothed things were pigs? But why should that surprise me? They were like everything else I’d seen so far in this hot, dusty place: wild, prickly, and ugly.

He stepped forward, clapped his hands, and hollered, “Eeeeyaah!” The animals squealed and galloped away.

He turned back to me and swept the wide brimmed western hat from his head, revealing thick, blue-black hair. With exaggerated flair, he executed an elaborate bow, his smile mocking. “Always glad to assist a damsel in distress.” Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could tell by the slow movement of his head that he was eyeing me from head to foot.

Damsel? Great. Was that how I appeared? Weak? Helpless? I squared my jaw, not sure if it was his macho behavior that irked me, or the fact that I was thoroughly fed up with men at that particular moment. A failed marriage and a broken engagement certainly entitled me to that.

The older man explained that the creatures weren’t actually pigs but Collared Peccaries called javelinas. “They look a mite fearsome, but won’t usually harm you unless you go after their young’uns.” A friendly smile creased his sun-leathered face. By the look of their clothing, I gathered I’d come across some genuine Arizona cowboys.

“Should have guessed,” the tall stranger said scornfully, pointing to my license plate. “She’s a bird.”

I bristled. “What do you mean I’m a bird?”

“Snowbird,” the other man explained. “You know, tourist. Winter visitor. Folks who come here for the warm weather and then skedaddle.”

“But,” the contentious one cut in, “not before you interlopers pollute our air, clog our roads, drain our water supply and ruin our way of life.”

“No offense intended, ma’am.” The old cowboy shot a questioning glance at his friend.

But I did feel offended. Without stopping to think, the lie leaped to my tongue. “I am not a snowbird. For your information, I happen to be relocating to Castle Valley. I’ve accepted a very important…managerial position at their newspaper.” I regretted my impulsive words immediately and wondered why I should even give a crap what this arrogant man thought.

For a long minute they stared at me in silence, and then the tall cowboy grinned. “Well, now, is that a fact?”

A sharp ringing sound like metal striking metal, and a high whinny from the trailer got both men’s immediate attention. “Come on, Jake,” said the younger man, “we’ve wasted enough time. Let’s get them back to the ranch.” He reached the trailer in long strides, and I could hear him speak in a soothing voice to the horses.

I thanked Jake for his help, adding, “I’m not too crazy about your friend. He’s got a real attitude problem.”

His grin seemed rather sheepish. “Don’t pay no attention to him. He just don’t like newcomers much, and plus that you look a powerful lot like…”

His words faded as the ground suddenly swirled beneath me. I brushed a hand over my forehead as Jake stepped forward. Grabbing one arm, he led me to sit on a nearby rock in the shade of a scraggly tree. “You got water with you, little lady?” A look of concern deepened the creases around his eyes. “It’s real dangerous to be out here without some. People dehydrate in a matter of hours. The desert, it ain’t nothing to fool with.”

I decided I’d rather die than admit I was an ignorant snowbird. “Yes, I have plenty in the car.” He didn’t need to know I had only a few sips of soda left in my cup.

A loud shout from the truck. “Come on, Jake. Let’s roll!”

I thanked Jake again for his kindness. He touched the brim of his hat murmuring, “Don’t mention it,” and limped away.