2000 Kisses (25 page)

Too easy to forget everything but the land … and the man beside her.

Layers of clouds sailed over the valley, touched with color. Far to the south she could see thunderheads rising, their bases purple and heavy with rain. For a moment Tess experienced the dizzying sensation that she was flying, soaring over the valley, so clear was the view. From this vantage point, the cliff dwellers could see strangers coming from miles away, an excellent tactical advantage.

Had there been danger here then, too?

Had strangers approached in stealth, avoiding signal fires?

Up the slope Tess saw that small, dried corncobs littered the rocks. Close by were two deeply indented stones, which might have been used for grinding the precious meal. She blinked, locked in a sense of past, remembering the handprint on the rock wall high above her.

She caught her breath, gripped by an ineffable connection to this ancient place and the lives that had passed here. Women had ground corn, woven their native cotton.
They had laughed and worried and waited for their men to return from the fields or the high mountains to north and east, where game would be plentiful.

What had happened when the warriors returned? Was there singing and dancing before towering fires? Were there lingering glances, the brush of bands, and the hammering of hearts in the darkness?

At that moment, the mystery of the place became painfully personal, almost overwhelming. Tess could feel the hypnotic pull of the shadows slipping into her thoughts.

She turned to find TJ. staring at her. “Is it always like this? Is the sense of history always so close?”

“Always. Doc Felton owns this land all the way to the river. Someday he'll bring in a research team to investigate and document the site. But for the moment, we'll guard its secrets. After so many centuries, a few more years won't matter.”

Wind sailed past the high canyon walls and Tess's hair fluttered over her cheeks.

TJ. looked away, scanning the slopes. Tess realized he was edgy, too alert. “You think someone's out there?”

“No, but I want to get you back to the Blazer. Can you move?”

TJ. saw her grit her teeth, watched her fingers tighten. He hated having to put her through more pain, but they couldn't stay there. He needed to get her back to town so Doc Felton could check her out.

“No choice?”

“Afraid not.”

Her mouth set into a thin line. “In that case, let's go.”

As gently as possible, he helped her stand. When he
saw how unsteady she was, he lifted her and carried her down the slope. Her body was rigid by the time he broke out of the shadow of the pifions, with the trucks just beyond. She had rare courage, he thought. He knew she hurt everywhere, but she hadn't uttered one complaint.

“How are you doing?”

“Let's just say I won't be performing
Swan Lake
anywhere tonight.” Her hands were digging into his shoulders.

T.J. eased her higher, trying to rock with every motion to smooth his steps. That concentration was why he didn't notice that the Blazer was leaning at an angle.

He snapped out a curse.

“What?”

The tires were slashed through, and the car was resting flat on its rims. They wouldn't be going anywhere in his vehicle, he thought, scanning the slope below. Nothing moved. There was no sight of anyone slipping into the brush.

Damn and blast, who had done this?

He remembered Mae's truck, which was just past a low rim of junipers. T.J. strode past his Blazer, then saw that the red truck had suffered the same fate. His hands tightened on Tess's waist. He couldn't keep her exposed, in the event they were being watched.

“How are you feeling?”

“Kind of funny. Floating.”

Not a good sign, he thought, sliding open the passenger door on the Blazer. Her eyes were closed, and she hadn't seen the damage to the tires. He decided that was probably a good thing. He pulled out his phone and punched in the number of the radio dispatcher, giving terse directions to send someone up as soon as possible.

“Why did you say that?” Tess was studying him curiously.

“Something's wrong with the Blazer.”

“Mae's truck is just over the hill.”

“Looks like that's not working so well either.”

“You didn't try it.”

He settled her against his arm, “The tires have been cut.”

He felt her tense instantly. “Are they out there now?”

“Hard to say. You let me worry about that.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I never expected they would be here.”

“We'll deal with that later,” he said grimly. He was pulling a blanket over her, when a shell exploded down the ridge. TJ. sank down, covering Tess with his body while he scanned the trees below them.

“Was that a gun?”

“No doubt about it.” TJ. sat up, turned the key, and shoved the Blazer into gear. Even with ruined tires, he could make his way up to the blind face of the cliff and turn around so diat the passenger door pressed up against the rock face. Then Tess would be protected and he would have a clear shot at anyone foolish enough to try to rush him.

He pulled down his rifle and loaded it, then drew it onto his lap. After that he checked his holstered pistol.

She was staring at him in mute fear as be picked up the radio and was put through to his deputy, Tom Martinez, who was on his way up.

“Keep your eyes open,” he said tightly. “A shot was just fired. If you see anyone on the road, I want a clear ID and plate numbers. And take precautions. This
could be some cult or it could be vagrants. Don't get out of your car without checking the scene, understood?”

He put the radio away, then reached to take Tess's pulse. Sharp and jerky, just as he'd expected.

She swallowed. “Going hunting for bear, Sheriff?” There was a note of fear in voice.

“Just staying safe,” he said. “I noticed there's a truck on its way up here.”

“A friend of yours?”

“I can't say for sure.” He cut off her questions, holding the canteen to her mouth and dribbling water over her lips, then soaked his bandanna and laid it over her face. The rumble was growing louder by the minute.

“You don't think it's one of
them
, do you?”

Both of them knew who she meant. TJ. didn't try to pretend otherwise. “Hard to say, but I'm taking no chances.” He stared down the hill at the dust rising in scattered plumes. “I'll leave the canteen here with you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Just a few feet up into those rocks.” To a place where he'd have perfect aim at anyone climbing the narrow path. “No one can get into the car without getting past me,” he grated.

The truck's rumble grew louder, blocking out the wind.

“Go on, McCall. I'll be waiting.”

He slid outside, then crouched low, making his way to a small fissure in the rocks that gave him a clear view—and a place to rest his rifle, should it be necessary. With his binoculars, he scanned the slope again and saw a truck halt at the edge of the wash near the road. He squinted as a man emerged, his features shadowed by a black Stetson.

The driver said a few words to someone in the truck,
then turned, one hand shielding his eyes as he looked up in the foothills.

Light reflected off metal. Field glasses possibly.

TJ. watched the man shove back his hat and scratch his head. There was something familiar in the gesture.

Suddenly, it struck him. The driver was Tom Stoner, who owned the Lazy C Ranch beyond the river. TJ. climbed up the rock, waving his arms broadly. Then he squeezed off one shot in the air for good measure.

Metal flashed again and TJ. saw the old rancher surveying the boulders where he stood. TJ. gave another broad wave of his hat, grinning as the old man climbed back into the truck and headed upward.

When the leathery-faced rancher jumped out of his truck, he stared at T.J. with concern. “I thought that was you, Sheriff. I picked up your conversation with Tom Martinez on the CB and thought you could use a hand. Something wrong with your Blazer?”

“Tires slashed. Same with Mae's Explorer.”

The rancher scowled at the stark line of cliffs. “Slashed? Now, who would do a fool thing like that?”

T.J. chose his next words carefully. “It could have been a vagrant. Maybe someone is dug in up here and doesn't want visitors. I'll check it out later. Ms. O'Mara fell and she's in no state to walk to town. Can you give us a ride back in the truck?”

“No problem. I was on my way to town anyway. One of my workers went and cut himself with a saw and I need to get him to Doc Felton.”

T.J. saw the man leaning sideways in the front seat. “Give me a minute to get Tess down here.”

“Is it safe?” she asked with a bleak smile as he sprinted toward her.

“Better than safe. The truck belongs to Tom Stoner, a local rancher. He'll drive us back.” He helped her slowly to her feet, noting the lines of strain at her mouth.

After a terse introduction, he settled Tess on the front seat and squatted behind it. Soon Tom was rambling on about grazing rights and stock prices. T.J. looked out the back window at the slope behind them. Nothing moved in the pinons. Only a hawk soared above the cliffs, gliding on the high currents. Only shadows dappled the worn, weathered rocks.

But as they slowly drove back down the pitted wash, light touched the roof of the cave, shimmering around the broken walls and roofless, slanting towers.

All wrong
, he thought. There should have been movement and laughter and activity—anything but this bleak silence. Something pricked between his shoulder blades, almost like a memory.

But he forced his head to turn away and shoved that uncomfortable sense of awareness from his mind.

Doc Felton was waiting in his office when they reached town, thanks to a call on the rancher's cellular phone.

Tess was determined to hobble into the doctor's office, but T.J. scooped her up in his arms and carried her past a line of interested bystanders into the waiting room.

“I heard you have some nice bruises, young lady. Let's be certain there's nothing more,” Doc Felton said as T.J. settled her in an examining room.

“Well, what do you think?” T.J. demanded.

“You just brought her in, boy. I don't think anything
yet.” Doc Felton shined a light into Tess's eyes, checked her pulse, then asked her to raise each hand in turn.

“So?”

“Be quiet,” the doctor snapped. “You want me to make him leave?” he asked Tess.

“No, it's all right.” She flushed as TJ. gave her a narrowed look.

T.J. jammed his hands into his pockets. “For the record, neither of you are getting me to leave.”

The doctor ran a hand along Tess's neck and shoulders, probing gently for signs of trauma, while TJ. watched in growing impatience. “Is anything broken?”

“I don't see any signs of concussion and Ms. O'Mara's vital signs appear to be normal. She has some superficial scrapes but nothing serious. That being the case, I'm going to have a look at Tom Stoner's man, who needs stitches.” He frowned at TJ. “Why don't you go attend to some police business and let Ms, O'Mara get her bearings?”

“I'm not—”

“Yes, you are.” Doc Felton crossed his arms. “In this room, I'm the law. You'd better remember that, Sheriff.” He waved TJ. out, then nodded at Tess. “Now, you, my dear, are going to close your eyes and rest. Doc Felton's orders.”