Firelight at Mustang Ridge (11 page)

“Aquamarine, I think. We can do all the proper tests to confirm, but I'd bet on it. It may not look all bright and gemmy right now, but give it a couple of facets and a bit of a polish, and you'll have yourself a nice stone. Your first find.”

“Oh!” She closed her fingers around it and surged up toward him.
“Thank you
.
”
Her open, joyous kiss punched heat into his gut and put a spin in his head, leaving him on the edge of reeling as she broke away to dive back into the pocket. Then she stopped herself and turned back, rueful. “A little help here, oh experienced rockhound? What do I do next? How do I keep from messing things up?”

He could have talked her through harvesting the crystals, but they had been going for almost three hours straight, and he knew how easy it was to let the gemstone high take over. “How about you let me open
things up in there? Maybe you could grab the cooler and pull out some snacks.”

He had brought the makings of a romantic picnic, but could see from the flush riding high on her cheeks that she wouldn't want to stop now. Heck,
he
didn't want to stop—the crystals looked good from where he was standing, and there was no telling how far back the pocket went, or how deep. Aqua wasn't crazy valuable, but it held its own. Not to mention that pulling aqua out of Hyrule took him back a ways, to when a pocket like this would've been the find of the year, celebrated by a rare dinner out.

Happy to see that she was digging into the cooler and nibbling as she went, he dropped into the shallow depression, where he had levered several flat rocks away already. Crouching down and clicking on a high-powered flashlight, he shone the beam through the jagged opening.

Adrenaline kicked in at the sight of a whole lot of crystal structure and a big pocket that stretched way back and then dropped out of sight. Seeing a couple of big clusters near the opening, he chose a likely fracture plane and got to work with a four-pound hammer, loosening up the substrate. Rock dust coated his face, turned the back of his throat dry and acrid, and put a huge grin on his face.

Damn, he loved this part.

After setting the blocky crystals aside to be taken back to the tumbling shed to get cleaned up and polished, he used a smaller hammer to carefully loosen another layer, opening up the hole. The stones weren't all amazing—some were rotten, turning to greasy blue-green mush in his hands. There was enough good stuff
to keep the grin on his face, though. More than enough. And it just kept going, with that drop-off in the back suggesting there was a second pocket beyond.

“How's she looking?”

He pulled his upper body out of the hole and twisted around to blink up at Danny. She was balanced at the edge of the cut, with her face alight and her hair damp where she had washed away the dust. Her jeans were muddy at the knees and she was wearing one of the spare work shirts he had brought along for the purpose, with the sleeves blousing down around her wrists and the tails tied at her waist.

“She looks amazing,” he said, voice gone rough. “Exactly what I want to see.”

Her excited flush deepened. “What's down there?”

“I haven't hit bottom yet.” He flashed his light around. “There's another pocket in the back, looks like even better crystal formations, but I can't get my head that far back.”

She hesitated, swallowing. “Can I try?”

Startled, he pulled his head out and looked up at her, squinting into the sun. “It's pretty tight quarters.” And not just for someone who had been trapped in a rockfall eighteen months ago and still couldn't handle something as wide-open as the
Rambling Rose
. For most people, there was a very fine line between the awe of being surrounded by glitter, and that moment of realizing that the jagged ceiling had a lot of rock pressing down from above, poising the whole thing to snap shut like a bear trap. “Are you sure you want to try it? You don't have to impress me, you know. That ship sailed right about the time you let fly with that paperback.”

“It's not for you. It's for me. I think I can do it. I
want
to do it.” Her eyes were fixed on the hole, her expression tight. But not with fear, he thought. It was more like she was daring herself. “Is it safe?”

“The ground is solid enough.” He banged the overhanging rock with the four-pound hammer. “But I'd be lying if I guaranteed anything.” He wished he could, though. He wanted her to see the glitter, wanted her to be the first one around that corner. Wanted to be there when she beat the inner demons that made her think she was less than she really was.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, as if unsure which way to go. “Will I be able to breathe?”

“There's room enough. The rest will be up to you.” Setting aside the hammer and shucking off his protective gear, he rose and crossed to her. With her standing on the grade, him in the cut, their faces were level. Her skin had gone pale, her eyes big, but there was excitement beneath the nerves. “The one thing I can promise you is that I'll be right here. I'll have your back. And if you need me to, I'll pull you out.”

Her hands lifted to his shoulders, then slid down to his chest, fingers flexing. “Thanks,” she said, voice gone husky. “That helps.”

“You don't have to do this.”

“I know.” A sudden smile lit her face, banishing most of the nerves. “But the thing is, I actually
want
to do it. This wimp is having a brave moment.”

“You're not a wimp.”

“Not today.” She pulled off her hat and safety goggles, and held out her hand for the flashlight. “Stand back. I'm going in.”

*   *   *

The hole was smaller than it had looked from up above, but once Danny got her shoulders through, it wasn't so bad. Daylight shone in behind her and the pocket fell away in front of her like a crystal garden of muted blues and greens.
Beautiful
. The hot air was tangy with acrid dust and very still, but the urge to gulp it was all in her head. There was plenty of oxygen, plenty of room.

“How's it going in there?” Sam's shadow moved across the reflected sunlight, making strange patterns on the stone.

“I'm good,” she said, feeling her pulse level off some at the reminder that he was right behind her.

“Crazy, isn't it, to think that the stones you're looking at haven't ever seen the light of day before?”

“I'm trying not to imagine them looking up at me right now and thinking,
What in the blazes is THAT?
”

He coughed to cover a laugh. “I can't say I've ever thought of it that way before.”

“You're not wired to creep yourself out.” She was doing okay, though. Her palms were slick, her hair sticking to her sweat-drenched forehead, but she could see, breathe, even talk.
You can do this
. A few more minutes and she could wiggle her way back out and celebrate the win. She panned the flashlight, catching flashes of another color mixed in with the blue-green. Excitement bumped alongside the nerves. “Is there something else in here along with the aquamarine? I'm seeing purple.”

“You've got a good eye. There may be some tourmaline mixed in there. Should make some impressive clusters when they're all cleaned up.”

She started to nod, felt her hair snag on the crystals
overhead, and ducked instead. “I'm going deeper. I want to see what's past this drop-off.”

“Go easy,” he cautioned.

Not letting herself think about how low the roof got toward the back, or that she'd be sticking her head inside a mountain that was no stranger to rockslides, she inched forward, pushing the flashlight in front of her.
Look forward, not back. It's an adventure
.

The walls closed in on either side, tugging at the too-big shirt Sam had loaned her. Before, she had caught herself tucking her nose into the collar and inhaling, as if she were back in high school and wearing her crush's ski jacket. Now she wished she had stripped down before starting her crawl, because the fabric wanted to twist and tighten around her.

Not letting herself think about that, either, or the view he was getting of her wiggling bum, she slithered a few more inches, to where the floor of the miniature cave disappeared into darkness.

“Do the crystals keep going?” he asked, suddenly sounding very far away.

Telling herself that he was still right there, that it was just a trick of the sound waves, she angled the light down and pushed forward another couple of inches, so she could look over the drop-off. “I think so,” she called, her voice too loud in the tiny space. “There's an edge here, and another pocket beyond it. Very deep. I can't see the bottom.” Heart hammering, she inched along even more, so her head and shoulders hung out over the emptiness. “It looks like—” The rock beneath her tipped suddenly, tilting her toward the darkness.

She gasped and slapped for a handhold, banged her
hands on the sharp crystals, and cried out as the flashlight went spinning. There was a disco-ball twirl of aquamarine and purple, and then a sharp crack of impact and the light went out.

“What is it?” His voice sharpened. “Danny, what's wrong? Do you want to come out?”

But she couldn't answer him, could hardly hear him over the roaring in her ears. She was in the dark, surrounded by rocks on all sides. And. She. Couldn't. Breathe. Someone was shouting, screaming, but she couldn't hear that either, couldn't see anything, couldn't—

Something clamped onto her ankle and pulled, and the too-big shirt snagged and tightened even further, compressing her chest and cutting across her throat. Trapping her.

“No!” She slapped around her in the darkness and found sharp points, struggled and heard cloth tear.
“No!”
The cry used up the last of her air and the world went spinning around her, drawing the shirt-noose tighter and tighter, until—

Nothing.

“D
anny?” Sam shook her, but got no response.
“Danny!”

Guilt hammered through him, thudding with the heartbeat rhythm that said
get her out, get her out, get her out
. But she was limp, unresponsive, and hung up somewhere in the pocket. He would hurt her if he pulled wrong, but he couldn't leave her like she was.

His hands shook as he lay flat and reached along her body, finding where the shirt had gotten hung up on crystal shards. He freed the snags and gave an experimental tug, and this time she slid back along the heavy canvas drop cloth he had used to pad the sharp rocks when they first started working. He pulled again, and she came the rest of the way free.

She was pale and terrifyingly still.

Heart hammering, he scooped her up, cradled her against his chest, and carried her up and out of the shallow cut they had been working. As he reached the ATV and lowered her to the cleared-off trailer, she stirred and made a soft sound. Her eyelids quivered, then opened to reveal blurry bewilderment as she looked up at him, then around at their surroundings.

“Hey,” he rasped. “You're back.”

“What . . .” she whispered, then gave a shuddery, “Ohhh.” Comprehension flooded her face, followed by a blush. “Oh, no. Please, tell me I didn't just . . . Ohhh.”

Relief trickled through him, followed by something darker and more complicated. In a voice that was still rough, he said, “Don't worry about it. You're not the first or last miner to panic underground, and you've got more of an excuse than most.”

She pushed herself up, and he helped her sit with her legs hanging off the back of the trailer. Burying her face in her hands, she moaned. “I passed out on you.”

“Yeah, you did. Scared the hell out of me, too.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I'm just glad you're okay.” He searched her face. “You
are
okay, right? There's a clinic in town if you want—”

“I'm fine.”

“I dragged you out of there pretty fast.” He reached for her hand, pushed up her sleeve. “Did you cut yourself on the rocks, or—”

She yanked her hand away and said sharply, “I said
I'm fine
!”

The ensuing silence was broken only by a rattle of rocks, as the cut shifted and settled.

She rose and paced to the edge of the hole. After looking down at it for a minute, she closed her eyes and tipped her face up to the sun. She stood like that for a long moment, and he got the feeling that she was proving to herself that she was out in the open. Then, exhaling, she opened her eyes and said, softer now, “Sorry. But I really hate this. I hate being afraid, hate not being
able to control myself. Most of all, I hate that when I get in a situation when I need to be at my best—thinking, reacting—that's exactly when my brain shuts down and I go
poof
.” She snapped her fingers. “Lights out.”

He wanted to reach for her, to hold on to her and tell her that she wasn't a wimp, and that he knew what it was like to have a flashback reach up, grab on, and drag him someplace he didn't want to go.

He couldn't make himself reach for her, though, and the words stuck suddenly in his throat. Because now that she was sounding like herself again, a whole slew of what-ifs suddenly jammed his brain with worst-case scenarios. What if she hadn't made it out in one piece? What if he'd hurt her pulling her out? Hell, what if the cavern had collapsed on her? He'd taken out a whole lot of its support, busting through. It could happen.

One split-second disaster, and nothing was ever the same again.

Turning away, he cleared his throat. “You sit for a minute, have something to drink. I'll pack the tools and we'll head back to Windfall.” Which wasn't what he wanted to say, but it would have to do for now, because he was too damn shaky to say anything else.

*   *   *

The return trip seemed longer than the ride out had been, but that was okay. It gave Danny time to level off and take a breath, time to feel the bumps and bruises she had given herself, appreciating them because they meant she was alive and not hurt worse. And it gave her an excuse to cling to Sam as the ATV bounced along the rocky trail, jolting the heavy leather bags that held the crystals they had collected. She burrowed into him,
grateful for the solid warmth that made it easier to banish the memories of cold darkness and turn her face up into the sunlight instead.

Still, by the time Wolf Rock came into view, she knew what she had to do.

He pulled around by the front of the mansion, killed the engine, and swung off, then held out a hand for her. “Come on. I'll show you the house.” A spark of humor lightened the pensive expression he'd been wearing since her panic attack. “I should warn you, though. I've only got four rooms' worth of furniture, and half of it came back with me from college.”

If this had been a normal dinner-and-drinks sort of date, she might have asked why he didn't either downsize or hire a decorator. As it was, she let him help her off the ATV, but then reclaimed her hand. “You're ahead of me,” she said as she got to work unbuttoning the borrowed—now ruined—shirt. “I've only got maybe two and a half rooms, most of it parental donations, and all of it in storage at the moment.” She held out the garment. “Sorry about the shirt.”

“Don't be.” He took it, hooked it over his shoulder, and studied her. “Why do I get the feeling you're not coming in for the nickel tour?”

She wanted to, badly. It would be so easy to go inside with him and let him tell her stories about prospecting, video games, or what Wyatt had been like in college. She could picture herself sipping a glass of the wine she had seen in the cooler, relaxing with him, and watching the sun drop in the sky. Kissing him as it set. All very easy.

Too easy.

Tucking her hands in her pockets, she said, “Thanks for the offer, but I'm going to head back to Blessing Valley.”

“Let me drive you back to the ranch and follow you out to the valley, make sure everything's okay.”

“Everything will be fine,” she said. “I can take care of myself.” Swallowing the leaden ball that had formed in her throat, she added, “In fact, I think I need to focus on that for the time being.”

He stilled. “Is this you giving me a brush-off?”

He sounded so incredulous that she would have laughed if she hadn't been afraid it would come out as a sob. “Maybe. Sort of. I don't want to, but . . .” She took a breath, tried to gather thoughts that wanted to scatter. “Look, you're good at fixing things. You see a problem, you invent a solution. I get that. I respect that. But the thing is, I need to do it myself. And if I'm around you, it would be way too easy to lean on you. So I'm not going to do this with you anymore. I'm sorry.”

Regret pierced her at the knowledge that she wouldn't get to kiss him again, wouldn't ride into camp to find him waiting for her while his horse grazed on the other side of the river.

His lips flattened with the barest hint of a rueful smile. “This is a new one. Usually I'm the one who gets dumped because I don't want to get serious.”

“I'm not dumping you, I'm—”

“I know. I'm sorry. That was my lame attempt at humor.” He moved in, giving her time to step back. When she didn't, he slid his arms around her and drew her close, holding her lightly, as if she were something precious. “You're a very special woman, Danny Traveler.
You're bright, beautiful, clever, interesting, and one of the bravest people I know. You should give yourself more credit.”

She sniffled, refusing to give in to tears because that would make both of them feel worse. “You saying stuff like that is exactly why I shouldn't be around you.”

He brushed his lips across hers, then let her go and stepped back. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Somewhere between a rock and a hard place?”

His expression lightened. “Exactly. Take care of yourself, Danny.”

“You, too,” she said, her voice going ragged. “And give Yoshi a carrot for me.”

He just lifted a hand in answer, standing there in front of Wolf Rock as if to say,
I'm not going to leave. You're going to have to do it
.

So she did. She made herself walk away when she wanted to cling, made herself drive away when she wanted to kill the engine and tell him she'd made a mistake. And as she turned onto the main road and headed for Mustang Ridge, her surroundings blurred and a tear found its way down her cheek. Because, really, there was nothing she would have wanted to change about Sam—except for meeting him now, when she was in no place to get involved.

*   *   *

Sam stood there longer than he meant to, until there wasn't even a stir of dust anymore to say that she'd been there. Then he stood there a minute more, trying to shake the feeling that he should've done more to persuade her to stay. To convince her that she was okay,
even if she didn't see it yet. To talk her into another date—one with wine, candles, and zero danger.

He didn't chase women, though, and he didn't make promises he couldn't keep.

“Like today, when you promised you'd have her back?” he asked himself, even though he already knew the answer. He hadn't broken his promise—he'd been right there, and he'd pulled her out as soon as he could. But that was the thing, wasn't it? There were times when you just couldn't stop bad stuff from happening.

Shoving his hands in his pockets—and finding them full of stones, which wasn't all that unusual—he looked up at Wolf Rock. “Guess it's just you and me tonight.” Back when he was a little kid, his father had given the huge metamorphic stone a growly voice that told him to watch his mouth and do his chores. These days, it didn't have much to say.

Which was okay, because right now he didn't, either.

In his right-hand pocket, he felt the bulk of a single good-size stone. Recognizing the shape by touch, he pulled it out and studied the translucent blue-green of Danny's first find. He vaguely remembered her handing it to him before she dove into the hole, all full of nerves and excitement.

Should he have put the brakes on things right then? Maybe. But he had thought the cavern was solid, had wanted to watch her face down her fear monster and kick its tail.

He'd been wrong about that happening, though. Which was a damn shame.

Dropping the aqua in his pocket, he swung back aboard the ATV and headed for the sorting shack,
figuring that if he wasn't going after her—which he wasn't—he might as well get to work cleaning up some of the new clusters. Because no matter what else was going on around him, there always was something very cool about taking a scuffed, dirty rock and making it shine.

When he got to the compound, though, he didn't go inside right away. Instead, he pulled out his phone, hit a number, and listened to the ring on the other end of the line. When it went live, he said, “Hey, Krista, It's Sam. I need a favor.”

Which wasn't him fixing things for Danny. He just wanted to make sure she was okay.

*   *   *

When Danny reached Mustang Ridge, she hid the car behind the airport shuttle and made a beeline for her ATV, which was parked beside the barn.

“Danny, hey!” Krista appeared in the barn doorway, with Abby on her shoulder and a worried pinch to her features. “You're back!”

It was far too tempting to make a flying leap onto the ATV, gun it, and take off. Instead, Danny stopped and turned back to her friend. “Let me guess. Sam called.”

“He was worried about you.” Her
so am I
went unsaid.

“I'm fine,” she said, fighting off the prickles of irritation. But, really, how many times would she have to say that before the people around her backed off?

Until she stopped going into a panic fugue when the lights went out, probably.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The
no
was automatic, but Krista deserved better.
Tucking her hands in her pockets, Danny said, “There's nothing to post-mortem. I pushed it too far and panicked. It's not the first time, won't be the last.” It was the first time in a long while that she had done it in front of someone else, though. “As for Sam . . . Well, he doesn't need to watch me look for all the pieces and glue myself together. That's not sexy. At all.”

Krista made a humming noise. “I don't think he sees it that way.”

Don't ask, don't ask, don't ask
. “What did he say?” Her heart gave a little bump.

“Not much, really. He told me about what happened out on the claim and asked me to make sure you made it back safe and sound. But he cares. I can tell.”

“I . . .” Danny blinked furiously, not sure if the heat-prickles behind her eyes were from tears or hope. And if they were hope, how to make it go away. “It's not a question of caring. It's that I need to do this on my own.”

“I get that.” Krista squeezed her arm. “I do, truly. But maybe there's room for him, too?”

It would be so easy to say yes. “I don't think that's a good idea. I need the time alone.”

“Not tonight,” Krista said firmly. “Tonight you're staying with us. In the bunkhouse with us, the barn apartment, or one of the guest rooms in the house—take your pick. But I want you someplace close by.”

Telling herself it wasn't stubborn to insist on what she needed when it wasn't going to hurt anybody else, Danny said carefully, “I get what you're saying, really I do, and you're sweet to worry, but I need my own space.” The nightmares were going to suck, and there
was no way she wanted them going public. And, really, she just wanted to be alone, where there was no point in being embarrassed, and she was the only one who knew when she failed. “Besides,” she said, trying to lighten things up, “I won't be totally alone. I've got Chuck and Popov to keep me company.”