Renee Simons Special Edition (34 page)
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Authors: Renee Simons
"Straight as a plumb line."
To Callie, everything on the menu looked appetizing. In the end, they ordered platters of warm chicken marinated in a chile-laced vinaigrette dressing, a guacamole salad topped by sour cream and a fresh and fiery salsa, all on a bed of shredded greens.
"Guaranteed to burn off the most infernal anger," J.D. said. She tasted each item and took a dollop of the sour cream intended to cool the heat. "This place has improved a thousand-fold from the old days."
"I thought you might like it."
"I owe you an explanation of what just happened."
Callie shook her head. "No. You don't. What was or is between you and the sheriff is not my concern."
"That's true, but you and I will be working together for the next six or eight months and he's bound to pop in and out of the picture." J.D. took a fork full of the avocado salad, then pushed her plate away.
Callie remained silent. She didn't want to be the sounding board for either, or worse, for both of them. Driven from
New York
by her own romantic missteps and about to undertake Grandmother's dreamed-of restoration, she wanted no such complications.
"Well, then, I won't bore you with details." J.D. used her knife to carve ridges in the uneaten guacamole. "We thought we had something. It just wasn't the same for both of us." She sighed and took a sip of iced tea. "It was messy."
"Do you want off the project?"
"Do you want me off?"
"No," Callie replied. "But if you're going to feel uncomfortable...?"
"I ran away once. Not this time."
"Then we’re good." Unfortunately, Callie understood J.D.’s struggle firsthand and the woman’s need to move on. Which she’d apparently managed to do. Callie hoped to do the same.
She resumed her lunch, watching her tablemate attack hers with determination. In light of their conversation, she couldn't be sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.
* * *
The next time Callie returned to the house, she brought her personal belongings. Nick had come out with a county building inspector. Although all the internal systems of the house would need updating, the wiring and plumbing were adequate to allow her to move in. The small refrigerator worked well enough, although the tiny freezer compartment had room for little more than two ice cube trays. The inspector warned her to avoid installing any appliances beyond a radio, a television set and a small toaster oven and never, ever to use more than two appliances at the same time.
She would do dishes and laundry by hand and air dry everything. Nick lent her a battery operated generator for emergencies and showed her how to restart the old but still serviceable electric water pump behind the house. They would replace the furnace at the beginning of the renovation, if she could work out the problem with the lease. During the warm days and tolerably cool nights of summer, a heating system was expendable.
After unpacking dishes, utensils and food items purchased at the Mercantile, she hung up her clothes and found a place to put her air mattress and sleeping bag, then set up a portable charcoal grill on a small deck just outside the back door to the kitchen.
With the shortest moving day in her life completed, she felt free to explore the ruins of Blue Sky. The settlement sat on the floor of an extinct volcano, a
caldera
, she’d read. What remained of the western slope loomed high above the mining town. Miles away, east of the highway, the opposite side had been worn nearly flat by time and weather.
She walked the half-mile distance from the house to Blue Sky. The hum of insects and the sigh of an occasional breeze broke the silence. Unable to locate a street or roadway through the village where many of the inhabitants once had lived, she wove around and between the remnants of tiny cabins and several larger, more substantial structures.
All seemed to have been built of adobe or uncut stones held together by mortar or mud. Here and there, remaining walls showed patches of the stucco that had once dressed some of the exteriors. Rusting metal roofs leaned precariously or had tumbled to the ground.
As she turned around to gauge how far she'd walked, she saw Luc silhouetted by the sun at his back. Although unable to make out his features, she sur
prised herself by recognizing his broad shoulders and loose-hipped walk. Of course, the ever-present Stetson™ helped, too. And that smile, brilliant against his sun darkened skin.
"Doing some exploring?" he asked as he came closer.
"Some."
"You got a good
day for it — not too hot, nice and dry." He nodded. "A good day."
"Thanks for the weather update."
"Sorry," he said. "Small talk isn't what I do best."
He removed his hat and raked his fingers through hair thick and straight and dark as a moonless sky. Callie's fingers itched to test the feel of it. She forced herself to remember she’d come here to fulfill her grandmother’s dream, not fall prey to an easy smile and sexy walk.
"Well, then,” she said, “don't waste your breath. Get right to the important stuff."
Something flickered in his eyes, but he said, "It'll keep. For now, how about I volunteer to take you on the twenty-five cent tour? That is, if you want to see the sites. What sites there are."
Callie wondered about this new attitude. "Thanks. A personal guide would be nice."
As he ushered her forward with one hand, his other guided her with gentle pressure at the small of her back. The brief contact sent a sliver of heat meandering up her spine. The current widened as it flowed upward, draping itself around her shoulders and neck like a silken scarf, caressing her with its warmth and lingering like a kiss in the hollow at the base of her throat.
This is not going to be easy.
Soft as the contact had been, it registered with the force of a body blow. She intended to move out of range of his touch but inexplicably found herself resting against the fingers splayed against her back.
"Are you okay?" Luc's serious expression hinted at concern, but she caught a devilish glitter in his eyes and blushed.
"Sorry," she said. "My heel slipped on a loose rock."
"No problem," he said softly. "Glad I was here to help."
"Are you?" Her breath had caught somewhere beneath her breastbone, leaving the words barely audible. Her mind questioned why she cared.
He bowed low, lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against her palm. "That's my job, ma'am, to protect and serve."
Her palm tingled in response to his kiss. To distract herself she asked, "All in a day's work?"
His eyes went velvety soft. "This doesn't feel anything like work."
Remembering he was the enemy, she withdrew her hand. "Maybe we should get this little train back on track."
He smiled at her. "I kind of like where's it's going. In fact, I'm looking forward to the next stop."
He put on a pair of dark glasses as they continued on side by side. "It's good you came on foot," he said. "Bikes are hard on the ecology. The vibrations damage what's left of these structures and frighten small animals living here."
They hiked where Blue Sky's gold mining camp had flourished. Luc knew who had owned each of the buildings, each plot of land marked by crumbling adobe, each excavation into the hillside and whether it had yielded any precious metal. Several of the names he mentioned were familiar from tales told by Grandmother and Aunt Hatt.
Their wandering took them through the camp and back toward The Mansion. On the eastern slope of the caldera Callie noticed a mine entrance. She headed for it but Luc stopped her with a hand on her arm. Once again, his touch resonated through her body, sending a tremor to the deepest part of her and reminding her that a passion for anything but The Mansion had been missing from her life for too long. That this man could arouse such feelings was confusing in the extreme.
"Stay out of there," he said. His voice had turned harsh. "It's old and dangerous."
"Then why isn't the entrance boarded up?"
"We're not used to strangers having the run of the place. Folks around here know better than to look for trouble." He gave her a look that hollered "greenhorn" although he refrained from saying the word aloud.
The emotion betrayed by his tone aroused her curiosity. This had nothing to do with safety, she was sure. So what was Sheriff Moreno trying to hide?
Chapter Four
Late the following afternoon, Callie headed back to the mine. This time, she noticed a faded sign above the entrance:
Golden Eye
. Her heart beat faster as excitement rippled through her. This had been the largest mine in Blue Sky, and the source of the town's wealth, much increased over the placer mining that had brought the first miners to pan the shallow stream beds for nuggets. Some enterprising miner had reasoned that the nuggets must have washed down from a source buried in the surrounding hillside. He'd searched and in the best "
Eureka
!" tradition, had found the mother lode.
Members of the community, including her great-grandfather, had prospered as long as ore had been plentiful and relatively easy to bring to the surface. When a scheme to bring water to the area fell through and it became too expensive to mine the lower depths, Blue Sky's economy failed. Without the mine's revenue, there had been no need for her family's bank or any of the services it provided. The Great Depression finished off the town, but by then Great Granddad had transported the entire clan back to
St. Louis
and began amassing his second fortune.
Based on what Elvira had told her, she didn't have to wonder why Sheriff Moreno had warned her away. Nor did she buy his explanation of why the entrance hadn't been secured. If the place was considered unsafe, wouldn’t someone with common sense and foresight have sealed it off to keep out the curious?
Armed with a battery-powered lantern, she looked around to make sure no one was watching and slipped through the entrance. When she turned on the light, the beam led the way ahead for some twenty feet and brought into stark relief the rough-hewn walls.
In the dry, musty air, low-hanging cobwebs quivered as she passed. Her boots made dull, thudding sounds on the hard packed earth. Occasionally, the heels clunked against a section of rail that remained from the time when ore carts traveled to the outside from deep in the mine.
The section of tunnel through which she'd just walked appeared to have been untouched for many years. She considered turning back, but she'd encountered no obstructions, no fallen rocks. Instead, the light dancing into the waiting darkness enticed her to explore farther.
She reached a place where the passage widened to roughly twice its original size. From there it narrowed again and began a gradual downward slope. Could this have been a staging area for men or equipment headed into the lower depths?
Her curiosity spurred her on. She picked out a detail she'd missed before — cables running along the walls just beneath the roof of the tunnel. She’d been right to continue. This mine was far from abandoned.
She walked several more yards before the slope took a sharp dip. The air had turned heavy and stale, with a faintly unpleasant odor she couldn't place but which gave her a headache. The time had come to turn back. Further exploration would have to wait for another time. Reversing direction, she climbed back up the incline and headed for the entrance.
The one person she would have preferred not to see waited for her in the gathering dusk. At the sight of the sheriff's expression of disapproval, Callie took a deep breath to prepare herself. For his remarks, of course. What else?
"Good afternoon, Sheriff."
"Evening, Miss Patterson." He nodded toward the mine. “Thought I told you to stay out of there.”
"Were you giving me an order?"
He raised one eyebrow but asked only, "So what did you find?"
She would need some time to figure that out. "Not much," she said with a shrug. "I didn't get very far."
"Do us all a favor and stay out of there."
Callie nodded as she wondered who the
us
was, and why
we
were being so cautious. And what was going on in a supposedly played-out gold mine?
"C'mon," he said. "I'll walk you back."
The sun had disappeared behind the surrounding hills, leaving a brilliant orange glow that bathed the scene in a golden patina. Concentrating on the beauty of the moment helped her ignore the sheriff’s ability to unnerve her with a quiet, sure maleness that awoke unbidden responses.
He touches you even when he doesn't
.... She sighed. He wasn’t supposed to get to her, only she to him. Wasn’t that what Grandmother wanted? A little payback for whatever grave insult had left her with painful memories? Thank goodness the dear woman hadn’t known about the problems with the land and the mine, which would have added new insult to the old injury she’d refused to talk about.