Something More (21 page)

In barely restrained haste, he transcribed the rest of the letter, then stared at the resulting message.

“Well? What do you think?” Angie prodded when he remained silent.

It was more than sheer coincidence that every twelfth word seemed to provide directions, and Luke knew it. But he couldn't bring himself to admit it yet.

He avoided her question for now by asking one of his own. “This postscript he wrote: ‘Remember. Always remember God's way is not man's way.' He underlined that as well. Is that significant?”

“In this case, I think he did it for emphasis.”

“Probably,” he agreed thoughtfully. “It definitely doesn't have a twelfth word in it.”

Angie gave him a couple more seconds to study both the letter and its coded message, then offered her own interpretation of it. “This is the way I think the message reads,” she began. “The gold is hidden, and Bell's hole—which is a western term for a mountain valley—is the starting point. Somewhere in that valley there is a pillar, probably of rock. The pillar's evening shadow will point to the entrance to a canyon that opens from the valley. After you enter the canyon, you go along the right side until you get to Eagle Rock. The gold is buried below a shelf. He wants his wife to return it and get the reward that was offered. Is that the way you read it?”

“That's the most logical.” Luke switched his attention to the topo map, pulling it back in front of him. “There is no Bell's Valley in this area, but there is Buell's Basin. Several canyons empty into it.”

“
And
,” Angie inserted, stressing the word to give importance to what followed, “it lines up with the place where their tracks were lost and the place where the posse found them again.”

“That's what you meant earlier,” Luke said as he remembered what she had showed him on the maps.

“Exactly.”

Pulling in a deep breath, Luke straightened from the table and leaned against the cushioned backrest, frowning thoughtfully. “There's one thing that bothers me in all this.”

“What's that?”

“His wife. Why would Ike Wilson think she would recognize the code he used? How would she even know about it?”

“I'm sorry,” Angie declared, then released a rueful laugh. “I forgot to mention that her father was a spy for the Union army during the Civil War. She grew up listening to tales of his various escapades. In fact, it was her father who showed Ike Wilson some of the simpler ciphers that he used.”

“Then, why didn't his wife ever come for the gold and claim the reward?”

“According to family stories that have been handed down, there was a variety of reasons,” Angie replied, then began ticking them off. “She didn't have the money to make the trip. Their son was barely two, too young for such a journey, and she would never have considered leaving him behind. But mainly, it was the shame she felt over her husband being hanged as a thief and murderer, and she knew it was a stigma their son would carry with him the rest of his life. Plus, she was a devout Christian. I suspect that, to her, finding the gold and returning it for the reward would be the same as condoning the crime he committed. And two wrongs never make a right.”

“I suppose . . .” Luke frowned at the realization that Angie's explanation raised another issue. “But if she felt that strongly about it, why didn't she do the right thing and notify the authorities, explain about the letter, and tell them where the gold was hidden?”

“Caroline tortured herself over that very thing. But turning the letter over to the authorities meant branding her husband as a liar because he had sworn he didn't know where the gold was. And you have to understand that she loved him very much. She knew as well that, however misguided his attempt, his intention had been to provide his family with the financial security in death that he hadn't been able to give them in life. The more days that passed without turning over the letter, the harder it became for her to come forward.” Pausing, Angie took a sip of coffee, then lifted one shoulder in a vague shrug. “At some point, she must have decided it was too late to do anything.”

“I'm surprised she kept the letter at all.” Luke reached for his own mug.

“So am I,” Angie admitted. “I guess we'll never know why she did. Maybe it represented a last link with the man she loved. Maybe it was the temptation of the gold. Whatever the reason, it survived.”

“And your grandfather was the only family member who ever came looking for the gold,” Luke mused.

“Until now,” she corrected softly.

He smiled crookedly, noting with a sidelong glance the determination and thrill of adventure in her eyes. “You're right. Not until now.”

“So? Have I convinced you?” Angie challenged with that old confidence. “Will you take me to Buell's Basin and help me find the rock pillar and, ultimately, the gold?”

“You honestly believe it's still there?” he countered.

“How long can it possibly take to find out for sure?” she retorted lightly.

“If you'd ask Saddlebags that question, he'd tell you a lifetime.”

“But he doesn't have the directions that we have.” She nodded to the message Luke had written in the notebook.

“Unless Ima Jane was right, and he somehow got his hands on your grandfather's effects.”

“Having the letter doesn't mean that he knows where to look. We do.”

“True,” Luke admitted, doubting that he would have broken the code if Angie hadn't shown him the key.

He studied the message again, the first niggling seeds of curiosity beginning to sprout. Was it a written road map to the stolen gold or not? Like Angie, he knew he had to find out.

“Two weeks,” he said. “If we haven't found it within two weeks, you're on your own.”

With an exultant laugh, Angie tossed a silent prayer of thanks heavenward, then sank onto the bench seat opposite Luke and clasped a hand over his. “You won't be sorry. I promise.”

With the radiance of her face before him, the dark-shining glitter of her eyes locked with his, he was already sorry. No man could spend two solid weeks in this woman's company and expect to come away from the experience unscathed. He thought of days to be spent riding side by side with her, and the nights beneath the intimacy of star-dusted skies.

He felt the pressure of her hand change and soften from a friendly firmness to something else. At the same moment, a note of wonder crept into her eyes. And Luke knew she must have seen some of what he'd been imagining. With the first trace of self-consciousness he'd observed in her, she withdrew her hand, her fingertips feathering over his skin, sensitizing its tanned and work-roughened surface.

But there wasn't a hint of it in her voice when she leaned forward, resting both forearms on the tabletop, hands clasped together. “How soon can we leave?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you want to camp out, or come back here every night.”

“Less time will be wasted if we camp out. That's why I brought along my sleeping bag. It's stowed right under here.” She pointed to the bench she was sitting on.

Slumped on the trailer's living room couch, his long, skinny legs stretched in front of him, Tobe pointed the remote control at the television. As he surfed through the channels, Dulcie scampered across the living room on tiptoes.

“Hey? Where are you goin'?” he asked when she headed for the front door.

“I gotta ask Angie something,” she answered without pausing and slipped out the door.

“Never known her to venture outside after dark before.” Fargo picked up the can next to his recliner and spit into it.

Tobe shrugged his indifference. “Must be something important.”

“Luke's been out there long enough, ain't he?” Fargo murmured thoughtfully. “Wonder what they're talkin' about?”

A sly and knowing grin spread over Tobe's face. “You can bet they aren't discussin' the price of cattle.”

Outside the trailer, Dulcie ventured beyond the light that spilled from its windows. Inky black shadows quickly closed around her. She fastened her gaze on the camper's white sides, gleaming like a beacon in a sea of darkness. Something scurried in the weeds, and she broke into a run, anxious to reach her destination.

When she reached the circle of light that enveloped the pickup camper, she slowed to a walk. The sound of Angie's voice drifted to her. Eager to talk to her, Dulcie quickened her steps as she rounded the back of the camper.

A moth, drawn to the lights, fluttered around her face. She paused to slap it away, then heard Luke's voice and hesitated, unsure whether she should interrupt.

“. . . tomorrow to get everything organized and gather the necessary provisions together,” he was saying. “We can set out the day after to hunt for your gold.”

Gold. That single word shattered any lingering hesitation. Agog with the thought, Dulcie dashed to the camper door, mindless of the insects buzzing at its screen. She spotted Angie through the dark mesh, sitting at the table. She didn't bother to look for Luke.

“Are you really going to look for the gold?” she asked with a kind of breathless awe.

“Dulcie!” Angie's startled glance flew to her. Luke poked his head around the corner as Angie rose from the bench and approached the door. “What are you doing out there?”

“I came to see you.” Without waiting for an invitation, she opened the screen door and clambered inside the camper. “Is it true? Are you really going to look for the gold?”

Angie darted a quick glance at Luke, then nodded calmly. “Yes, it's true. Now, what did you want to see me about?”

With her head spinning with thoughts of the gold, Dulcie had to stop and think. “My hair,” she remembered. “If you're still here on Sunday, I wondered if you'd fix it like this again so everybody could see me.”

“I'd be glad to do it.” Her smile gave the answer all the earmarks of a promise.

Luke rose from the bench seat to stand behind Angie in the camper's narrow passageway. “Isn't it past your bedtime?” he challenged.

Guiltily Dulcie ducked her chin. “Only a little.”

“That's what I thought.” He leveled a look at Dulcie that all but pushed her out the door.

“We'll talk some more tomorrow,” Angie assured her. “In the meantime, you'd better get ready for bed before you get in trouble.”

“Okay,” she mumbled in grudging agreement, her shoulders slumping in defeat. At a foot-dragging pace, she turned and headed out of the camper.

Moved by Dulcie's air of dejection, Angie watched until the towheaded girl disappeared into the shadows outside the camper.

“The cat's out of the bag now,” Luke murmured somewhat grimly.

Angie guessed that he was referring to their plan to search for the outlaw gold. “It isn't something we could have kept secret for long, anyway.”

“True.”

Turning from the screen door, Angie unexpectedly found herself standing nose to chin with Luke. But it was the compelling male shape of his mouth that riveted her attention. The air was suddenly heavy with undercurrents rippling between them. She looked up and saw the darkening of similar awareness in his blue-gray eyes.

For a moment she was tempted to tilt her head and invite his kiss. But she knew it would forever change their relationship, taking it to a new level at a time that wouldn't be wise.

Breaking the contact, she stepped back and turned, then went through the motions of making sure the screen door was tightly latched behind Dulcie.

When she swung back around, she adopted a friendly but businesslike air. “What will I need to take with me?” she asked, then held up a hand before he could answer. “Wait. I might as well start a list.” She slipped by him and resumed her seat on the bench, then retrieved the notebook and pen from his side of the table.