Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3) (26 page)

Cameron kissed her head.

"Are you sure you want to wait?"

Candice smiled playfully.

"I don't want to wait for anything," she said. "I just don't want to give Mother a stroke."

CHAPTER 45: CAMERON

Truckee, California – Saturday, June 13, 1925

Cameron laughed to himself as he carried two glasses of whiskey across a crowded room, handed one to Candice, and sat down at a table made from a wagon wheel. He had found the Cathouse, in all its glory, two thousand miles from Kentucky.

"What do you think of this place?" Cameron asked.

"I like it," Candice said. "I just wish there were more women in the room. Some of the men gave me 'friendly' stares while you were gone."

"I won't leave you again."

"Does that include tonight?"

Cameron chuckled.

"I can see why your mom opposed this trip. She knows her daughter."

Candice frowned.

"It just seems like a waste to rent two rooms."

"I made a promise to your mother," Cameron said. He looked at Candice thoughtfully and took her hand. "I'm going to at least
try
to keep it."

Candice pouted.

"All right, you win—for now."

Cameron laughed.

"I'm going to love life with you."

"I hope so," Candice said as her smile returned.

Cameron had rented separate rooms at the Paiute Hotel shortly after the two had stepped off the train at noon. He had insisted on a suite for her, a cell for him, and a bedtime curfew of ten. He wanted to show her, at least once, that he was a man of his word.

The new arrivals did not linger at the hotel. They visited several shops, purchased clothes and supplies for a lengthy hike, and cleaned themselves up for a night on the town.

Cameron learned quickly that Truckee was more than a whistle-stop on the most celebrated rail line in the country. With more than thirty speakeasies, or "blind pigs," as the locals called them, the town of thirteen hundred souls was a thriving den of sin.

The time traveler surveyed this speakeasy, the Frisco Saloon, and noted that the club had a decidedly local flavor. With California wines, nickel slot machines, a sawdust floor, and a banjo player, it was the kind of place Mark Twain and Bret Harte might have liked.

Cameron returned his attention to his companion, who, as of Wednesday, was his fiancée, life partner, and colleague. He looked forward to making their union official.

He did
not
look forward to resolving several problems, including a thorny issue they had not even broached on the train. Deciding to save that matter for another day, he smiled at his lovely date and brought up something lighter.

"You look nice tonight," Cameron said.

"I look overdressed," Candice said. "I feel like a debutante at a dance for hillbillies."

Cameron laughed. He couldn't disagree. Attired in a sequined dress, pearls, and a cloche hat, Candice Bell looked like a silver dollar in a jar full of pennies.

"We'll get you into something more appropriate tomorrow," Cameron said. He smiled. "I'm looking forward to seeing you in khaki and knickers."

"You're not making me feel better."

Cameron chuckled.

"I know."

"Do you think we can get there and back in a day?" Candice asked.

Cameron nodded.

"I know so. There's a road to Lake Tahoe that goes directly past the trailhead at a place called Squaw Creek. If we can catch a ride to the trailhead, we can cut the hiking distance in half."

"You really want to do this?" Candice asked.

"I do," Cameron said. "I want to see what the fuss is about. Your father and your uncle both considered the cave to be their most important discovery. The least I can do – we can do – is to give it a thorough inspection."

Candice offered a mischievous smile.

"We could go to San Francisco."

Cameron laughed.

"We could. We could go a lot of places. We could even go to Evansville, Indiana, but we have to go to the mountain first. Professor Bell sent me here on a specific mission. If I do nothing else, I have to at least confirm the cave's existence and document its location."

Candice smiled and raised her glass.

"Then I guess it's time we get moving. Here's to hikes, Mr. Coelho."

Cameron raised his glass and clinked hers.

"Here's to hikes."

CHAPTER 46: CAMERON

Nevada County, California – Sunday, June 14, 1925

Cameron had no difficulty securing a ride. Even on a morning when most locals were either sleeping off hangovers or heading to church, he had no trouble finding a man willing and able to drive two strangers from Truckee to Squaw Creek.

Cameron and Candice jumped out of the back of the man's pickup at eight o'clock, waved goodbye, and started up a trail that presumably led to a cave, a cache of crystals, and the answers to many questions. Each carried a canvas pack, a canteen, a flashlight, and expectations that could be met only by finding something that so far existed only in diaries and letters.

The two made good time at first. Hiking a narrow path that weaved its way between giant trees, rock formations, and swelling streams, they covered three miles in ninety minutes and saw a variety of interesting sights along the way.

Some sights, like a modern cabin, took them by surprise. Others, like a wishbone tree, did not. Three miles into their five-mile journey, they spotted the towering curiosity that Henry Bell had described in great detail on July 24, 1898.

"That's the tree," Cameron said as he slowed to a stop. "Your father mentioned a wishbone tree in his journal. That has to be it."

"Are you sure?" Candice asked.

"I'm positive. If there's another tree in California shaped like that, it's not around here. That's the tree your father saw. We're headed in the right direction."

Candice caught up to Cameron, stopped, and gazed at the living anomaly, a two-hundred-foot sequoia that looked like the world's largest Y. She studied the landmark for a moment, removed a canteen from a strap around her waist, and took a sip of water.

"Can we rest for a while? I'm exhausted," Candice said.

Cameron smiled.

"Is the trail wearing you down?"

"It's doing something. I'm not used to hills like this."

Cameron chuckled.

"Neither am I. We're getting into serious elevation now."

"Does that mean we can rest?" Candice asked.

"It means we can rest," Cameron said. He surveyed his surroundings and then pointed to a fallen log about ten feet off the trail. "That looks good. Let's sit over there."

"All right."

Cameron escorted Candice the short distance to the log, helped her remove her pack, and then took off his own. A moment later, he sat on the log, retrieved his canteen, and replenished his fluids for the first time since leaving the trailhead, Squaw Creek, and civilization.

He gazed into the distance and saw a scene even Ansel Adams could not improve. Granite peaks, some exceeding nine thousand feet, loomed over lush ravines, alpine lakes, and trees that could cast shadows over half the buildings in Providence. Closer to the trail, poppies, lupine, clover, and aster created a carpet of color that soothed the eyes.

"This is beautiful," Cameron said.

"It is. It really is," Candice said. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps we can come back next summer for a honeymoon – a
second
honeymoon."

Cameron smiled.

"I see you're thinking about the future, Miss Bell."

"I am," Candice said in a tone that sounded more resigned than hopeful. "I've been thinking about a lot of things since we left Kansas."

"That doesn't sound good," Cameron said.

Candice took a breath.

"I don't know if it's good or not. I just know it's something we need to discuss before we become Mr. and Mrs. Coelho."

"What is it?"

Candice slid her hand down Cameron's arm and clasped his hand. She squeezed it softly a few times before starting a conversation he had anticipated for days.

"You're from 2017. I'm from 1925," Candice said. "That's not a difference we can resolve by meeting in the middle."

"I know," Cameron said.

"Then what do you propose we do?"

"I propose we do nothing for now except to get better acquainted, decide what is most important to each of us, and go from there."

"That doesn't sound like a clear plan," Candice said.

"It's not. At least one of us is going to have to give up a lot at some point."

Candice frowned.

"That's not what I wanted to hear."

"I know," Cameron said. "I wish I could do better. Just know that I will keep an open mind and explore every possible way to make this work. OK?"

Candice nodded.

"OK."

Cameron leaned to his side and kissed Candice on the cheek. Satisfied that he had addressed the serious matter as well as possible, he got off the log, threw on his pack, and extended a hand.

"Let's go," Cameron said in a soothing voice. "Let's hike this trail, find that cave, and move on to better things."

CHAPTER 47: CAMERON

Cameron and Candice didn't need a map to find the cave. Nor did they need a compass, a diary, or even their intuition. In the end, all they needed to complete their unlikely mission was a letter Percival Bell had written to his younger brother on October 1, 1899.

The letter specified the cave's general location and described its distinctive entrance. The hikers located the site with relatively little difficulty.

The first thing Cameron noticed upon entering the cave was that it was more than just a cave. It was a man-made corridor of limestone bricks that led to other chambers and a host of surprises.

"This place is amazing," Cameron said. He held out his flashlight and led Candice from one chamber to another. "I can see why Percival and Henry came back for a second look. This isn't the sort of thing I would expect to find near the top of a mountain."

"Who do you think built it?" Candice asked.

"I don't know. I'm tempted to say a local tribe."

"You sound doubtful."

"I am," Cameron said. "I've never heard of native rock dwellings this far north and certainly not at this altitude. We're at eight thousand feet. This place just doesn't add up."

Cameron shook his head as he considered the understatement of the century. The tunnel was as out of place in the High Sierra as a thatched hut, a pagoda, or a pizza joint. Had the hikers not known what to look for, they would have ignored the rock pillars that obscured the entrance to the cave and continued on their merry way.

Cameron finally stopped when he reached a room with writing on the walls. He shined his light on the wall to his left and noticed several symbols and formulas.

"What do you think the writing means?" Candice asked.

"I'm not sure," Cameron said. He smiled. "For all I know, it could be a Paiute recipe for barbecued ribs."

"Are you trying to be funny, Mr. Coelho?"

Cameron smiled.

"No. I'm revealing my ignorance. I don't know what the writing means. I suspect it has something to do with time travel, but I really don't know. We should copy it just in case. It's possible that Percival and Henry missed a few formulas when they came through."

"Let me do it then," Candice said. "Let me copy this while you explore the rest of this cave. I would much rather write something down than stumble into a rat."

Cameron laughed.

"Where is your sense of adventure?"

"I left it in Truckee," Candice said. She scolded him with a glare. "Now, go!"

Cameron laughed again.

"All right."

Cameron watched Candice dig a pad and a pencil out of her pack and then turned his attention to a door at the end of the room. Taller and wider than the other entrances, it appeared to lead to a yet another hallway and even more chambers.

Cameron directed his light forward and followed it into the corridor. He needed only a few seconds to determine that the "cave" was more than just a limestone tunnel and a few adjoining rooms. It was a maze of tunnels and chambers that extended deep into the mountain.

He peeked into each room as he proceeded down the hallway and noticed more similarities than differences. Writing covered every wall. Embedded crystals adorned every ceiling.

When Cameron reached the end of the corridor, he started down another. He repeated the process two more times until he approached what appeared to be a dead end. The hallway emptied into a small room with no other doors or apparent ways forward.

Cameron frowned as he considered his options. He wanted to explore the maze from top to bottom but knew he couldn't take the time. He had packed for a day trip and had an obligation to get his fiancée down the mountain and back to town before darkness fell.

So he compromised. He decided to enter one more room and then head back to Candice as soon as his curiosity was satisfied. He stepped into the dead-end chamber.

The decision proved wise. Each end of the ten-by-fifteen-foot room contained a valuable resource he had not found in the other chambers or hallways.

Cameron turned first to his left and saw a key. Engraved on a smooth limestone wall, it explained virtually every symbol he had seen in the maze, Henry Bell's diary, and several letters. It did so by equating symbols he did not understand with symbols he did.

Then Cameron turned right and found what he had hoped to find: piles upon piles of blue and white gypsum crystals. Each of the gems appeared to be about three inches long and cut to precision. All were more priceless than the gold in Fort Knox.

Cameron took a moment to ponder the discovery, his obligations to Geoffrey Bell, and the practical limits of delivering on a promise. He had come to California to give truth to a myth, put an X on a map, and perhaps provide a family with a measure of peace.

He would leave California in a position to do a whole lot more. He had the batteries to a toy
and
the instructions. The question now was what he would do with them.