Desert Heat (6 page)

He
did as bid as the two women sat in silence.

When
he came back, Mallory was drying her hands on a hand towel. She took the
medicine and water from him and swallowed them. “Thank you.”

 
“You’re welcome.” He picked up the glue and
covered her palms with it. Next he wrapped gauze bandages over it. “We need to
let this dry,
then
we’ll pull the bandages free.”

While
they waited, Alan rejoined them. “I checked everything, and the gates are
secure.” He paused. “And all the horses are where they should be.”

 
“You sure?”
Mike
asked.

 
“Positive,” Alan said. “I counted twice. Every
horse is in.
The little burro, too.”

 
“He must’ve gone back.” Mallory looked from
one pair of skeptical eyes to another. “I didn’t go on a wild goose chase. I’m
telling you I heard a horse and went after him.”

 
“The gates were closed,” Alan said. “Unless
one of the horses closed it behind him, he wasn’t out tonight.”

 
“I know what I heard,” Mallory protested. She
wasn’t crazy.
Or hearing things.

 
“I know you think you heard something,” Mike
said, “but it’s an unfamiliar environment. Maybe you just heard the horses in
the corral moving around. Sound jumps around in the desert. You’re tired, maybe
you were hearing things.”

Mallory
bit her tongue. She lived and worked in the desert. Yes, sound carried, but it
didn’t just come up with the wind or out of nowhere. And she wasn’t so tired
she fell down in a pile of
cholla
for the fun of it.
She knew what she knew. But she wasn’t going to convince these people.

 
“I guess.”

She
didn’t miss the look the three shared between them.

The
glances that said she was off her bean. But she knew she’d followed a horse,
she knew she’d been knocked down on purpose, and she knew Mike hadn’t been in
his bed when she knocked on his door.

She
touched the wrap on her hands. “Is this ready?”

Mike
lifted one edge. “Yes.”

Mallory
held her breath as he tugged the homemade poultice from her skin. Surprisingly
it didn’t hurt. All she felt was a slight pull as the glue lifted the last
thorns from her tender, red skin.

 
“You okay?” Mike asked.

 
“Yes. Thank you.” Feeling normal would take a
few days, but compared to an hour ago, she felt like a new woman. “I’m so
grateful. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed. I’m sure you’re exhausted,
too.”

 
“I am beat,” he said. “Is there anything else
you need?”

She
shook her head. “No.
Just a bed.”

 
“I’ll walk you,” he said.

Alan
and Shelby wished her well, said their goodbyes, and left.

Keeping
the blanket around her waist like a skirt, Mallory lumbered down the hall. Mike
steadied her with his hand under her elbow and she was grateful for his
support. The ordeal had taken more out of her than she realized and she felt
slightly sick to her stomach and weak in the knees.

 
“I did see the horse, you know,” she muttered.

 
“I’m sure you did,” he said. But his tone suggested
he still didn’t believe her.

 
“I wouldn’t lie about it,” she said. “Or
wander out in the desert at night for no reason.”

 
“But Alan says the horses are all secure,” he
said.

She
didn’t have an answer for that. “I know.”

 
“Get some rest, and we’ll talk about it in the
morning,” he suggested.

They
reached her door. Mallory stumbled to a stop, the hair rising on her neck and
arms. “I didn’t leave this like this,” she said.

Mike
threw her a puzzled look,
then
shifted his gaze to the
door. It stood wide open. “What the—”

 
“I pulled it shut behind me,” Mallory said in
a strangled tone. “I distinctly remember.”

Mike
reached inside and flipped on the light switch.

Expecting
the worst, maybe a trashed room, Mallory held her breath and stepped over the
threshold. Other than the drapes swaying in the breeze from the AC, everything
looked exactly the same. With a panicked glance at Mike, she searched the
bathroom, under the bed, and in the closet. Nothing was out of place, but she
couldn’t shake the feeling someone lurked nearby.

 
“You okay?” Mike asked.

 
“Yes.” She nodded. Then she shook her head no.
“Not really. I know that door was shut when I left. Someone opened it.”

“It
probably didn’t latch right,” he said. Although his tone was patient, she could
see by his slightly arched brows he thought she had gone round the bend.

 
“I’m sure you’re right,” she said. Unease
plagued her and her gaze skittered around. Then it hit her. Her purse had been
moved.
“My bag.
It’s in a different place.”

He
frowned. “What are you saying? That someone rifled your purse? No one here
would do something like that.”

She
picked up her oversized bag and looked inside. Her wallet, keys, and return
airline ticket were all as she left them. But something was different. She dug
around again.
The map.
It was gone. She opened her
mouth to say so,
then
snapped it shut. Remembering the
way he reacted earlier, she decided it best to keep her peace.

 
“Everything in order?” he asked.

 
“Yes.” She walked to the sliding door and
locked it. “I need some rest. It’s almost dawn.”

 
“Feel free to sleep in. Help
yourself
to anything in the kitchen if I’m not around,” he
said with a kind smile.

An
ordinary conversation about everyday things, but her heart pounded. Someone had
lured her outside to give someone else time to steal her map. She was sure of
it. What she wasn’t certain of was whom, or what their motives were. Her skin
prickled and she wanted to be alone. With a pointed glance at the bed, she
hoped he’d go. Right now she didn’t trust him all that much.

Taking
the hint, he moved to the door. “I’ll wait until you lock it.”

Not
slamming it behind him took all her willpower. She fastened the deadbolt,
then
double checked it. Still not satisfied, she pushed the
ladder-back chair from the desk under the knob.

Leaving
on the light, she climbed into bed and tried to figure out who wanted her gone
from her room long enough to steal
Skeeter’s
map.

Mike
was the only who knew she had it.

Chapter
Six

Mike
walked back to his suite, wanting to kick his own butt with every step. He
hadn’t expected Dianna to chop Mallory down like grass in front of a lawn
mower. She said she’d help him get a look at Mallory’s map. Was this Dianna’s
idea of helping?
By seriously injuring someone?
He
wasn’t going for anything that drastic. If Mallory found out he was the one who
took her map, she’d hate him.

Unable
to sleep, he’d gotten up to check the lodge.

When
he’d walked down the hall, and spotted Mallory’s door standing wide open, he’d
taken advantage of the opportunity and taken her map. But he sure hadn’t wanted
her to get hurt or to be frightened. Her poor hands had made him sick and the
look in her eyes when she realized the map was missing tore at his conscience
until he’d nearly confessed.

He
chased away the thought and tried to make himself believe that what he’d done
was the right thing. It didn’t work. He didn’t think he’d ever felt worse in
his whole life.

Letting
himself into his suite, he sat at his desk and placed the two jagged halves of
the map together. A tear ran up one side, missing landmarks. Taking a closer
look, Mike spotted Tortilla Flat and Goldfield, and someone, probably Skeeter,
had marked the location of the Cholla with an X. Probably just to orient himself.

Running
a hand through his hair, Mike sat back and stared out the window. The sun was
just rising over the Superstitions, casting a pink and golden glow over their
peaks. Like everyone else in Arizona, he’d heard the legend of the Lost
Dutchman. That story was the most famous, but there were dozens more like it.
Like anyone who had a romantic heart, Skeeter had apparently wanted to believe.
But unlike most people, he’d chased shadows across the desert for a quarter of
a century. This map was useless. No secret code, no clear lines directing him
to the rich mine.
Nothing at all.
Just
an old map of the area.
Worthless.
Less than that.
Mike had one more valuable in the library.
Drawn by the cavalry, the map he owned was worth a small fortune.

Mike
wasn’t going to throw away his life like the old desert rat had. And he wasn’t
going to hurt Mallory. Somehow, Mike had to make up for what he had done. The
first thing was to slip the map back in her purse. After she rested and felt
better, he’d show her around. He’d do his best to see she connected with her
father in some way.

Then
he had to figure out a way to fight the SRPL with no money.

~*~

Mallory
groaned and rolled over.

She
fumbled with her glasses and moaned again when she read the green lights on her
portable clock.

11:59.

A minute before noon.

She
glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings. The night before came rushing back
to her as she noted the chair under the door and the bright bathroom light. She
examined her palms. Although sore, they looked okay.
A little
red
in
spots, but not unbearable.
No one would
guess she’d stuck them in a pile of
cholla
. Mike had
been so kind the way he had painstakingly pulled the tiny needles from her
skin. A tingle swept through her and she forced it away. She wanted to go home
as soon as possible and forget him, this ranch, and her time here.

Liar.

What
she really wanted was to find out more about Skeeter.

And
if she were honest, Mike.

Rain
pounded the glass door and it sounded like quite a storm.
Great.
Leave it to her to bring rain to Arizona, the state that usually got less than
none.
So much for exploring the desert today.
Throwing
her covers off, she headed for the bathroom. She wouldn’t find out anything
lying around like a slug.

After
a quick shower, she felt like a new woman. Tidying her room, she noticed her
purse. Frowning, she dumped the contents on the bed. Just in case she’d missed
the map last night, she searched through her things again. But it wasn’t there.
Just as she’d known it wouldn’t be. Who had taken it, and why? Mike?
But for what reason?
Did he think the old map had some
validity? He had acted weird last night when she dropped it. She couldn’t
believe he would steal from her after he’d been so nice.

After
replacing her things and making sure that her door was locked safely behind
her, she headed for the kitchen. She slowed at Mike’s door, but didn’t stop. He
didn’t need to babysit her more than he already had. He’d invited her to use
the kitchen, so she didn’t think he’d mind if she fixed herself a cup of tea
and some toast.

No
one was around, so finding a cup and an herbal tea bag took a few minutes but
she eventually succeeded. While the microwave nuked the water, she found
wheat-berry bread and stuck two pieces in the twelve-slice toaster. In the
light of the clean, normal kitchen, Mallory could almost forget the events of
the night before. The Benadryl box sat by the sink and she took two more as a
precaution against a late reaction, but she didn’t think she would have one now
after several hours rest.

As
she was buttering her bread, Brent slipped in. Under the bright fluorescent
lights, he looked even thinner and more ill than he had the night before. He
looked surprised to find her there but his tone was friendly.
“Morning.
Finding everything all right?”

 
“Yes, thank you.” Mallory took her tea from
the microwave. “Is there sugarless sweetener anywhere?”

He
pointed to a container beside her. “There.”

 
“Thanks.” She opened two packets and added
them to her tea. Sipping it, she studied him. For someone who made his living
in the sun his skin didn’t show the effects. A pasty gray shade, it looked as
if he hadn’t been outside in a long time.

 
“I heard you had a wild night. Are you okay?”
he asked. He moved to the fridge, rummaged around and slipped something in his
pocket. Because the open door stood between them, she couldn’t tell what it
was.
Probably an orange or an apple.

 
“Fine.”
She tried to
think of a way to ask him who he thought might’ve taken the horse out as a lure
but nothing came to mind.

 
“Are you an archeologist, like your dad?” His
question took her off guard. He had seemed interested in Skeeter last night,
too. He closed the fridge and turned back toward her.

 
“I have a minor in it,” she said, “but my
specialty is Environmental Science.”

A
frown swept across his skeletal face and his brown eyes filled with disgust.
“Oh.”

She
squared her shoulders for what was coming. “I teach at UNLV.”

 
“You’re an environmentalist,” he almost spat.

 
“Yes, I care about the environment.” She
wasn’t radical about her beliefs, but she did care that there were resources
for the next generations. She refused to apologize for it. “But that doesn’t
mean I don’t see two sides of a story. Like here, for instance—”

 
“What about here?” Mike asked as he came in
the room. “How’re your hands?”

Without
waiting for an answer, he took one palm and examined it. His touch was gentle,
sending a quiver through her that had nothing to do with her sore palms.

Mallory
lifted her chin and pushed her glasses up her nose. “I was just telling Brent
what I do for a living. I teach Environmental Issues at UNLV.”

Like
Brent, Mike’s sunny smile faded and he dropped her hand. “I see.”

Mallory
felt like she’d kicked a dog. “I was saying I can see two sides of a story.
Like here, for instance.
I can see why people wouldn’t want
you to use the river—”

 
“Can you really?” he interrupted. “You might
want to know that we’ve been using and taking care of the Salt River for more
than two decades. The people who are so hell bent on “protecting” it are only
worried about keeping it so another hundred or so families who move to Phoenix
every day can have drinking and bathing water.”

 
“Is that true?” she asked. “Or is there some
other reason? Like they might want the birds and fish who need the river to
survive to have a place, too?”

Mike
looked ashamed for a second.
“Maybe.
But if that’s
true, they haven’t proven it.”

 
“Rafting doesn’t hurt anything.” Brent fisted
his hands. “We don’t bother anybody.”

 
“Are you sure?” Mallory asked gently. “Have
you asked the wildlife if they mind you cruising across their home two or three
times a day? And there are other commercial users, too, right?”

 
“Yeah,” he muttered.

 
“We are willing to work around the animals,”
Mike said through tight lips. “But these groups’ tactics are out of control.
They went to a judge and got not only The Cholla, but my neighbors, shut down.
When the ranch is running, I employ two dozen people.
All out
of work.
Surely you can understand my point of view, too, Miss James.”

 
“I do. I think there’s got to be a happy
medium. Keeping the environment safe and meeting the needs of the people who
inhabit it as well.” Mallory tried to reason, but neither of them
were
listening. Brent stared at his shoes and Mike’s arms
were folded across his chest and his jaw was jutted out in a stubborn angle.

 
“If you figure out a way to please those nuts,
I’d like to hear it,” he said.

 
“I’ll think about it.” She changed the
subject. “I was wondering if you would mind if I borrowed a
car?
Or take me to Mesa so I can rent one? I’d like to do a bit of exploring today.”

 
“You’re more than welcome to use any of the
ranch vehicles,” he said. “But there’s no need for you to drive. I’m sure your
hands are still sore. I’ll drive you anywhere you’d like to go.”

Mallory
couldn’t see a way, short of being
rude,
to tell him
she didn’t want company. She wanted to drive to Tortilla Flat and Goldfield and
see if anyone knew Skeeter. “Do you have time to take me along the Apache
Trail, specifically to Tortilla Flat?”

 
“Sure,” he agreed easily. “I don’t have any
pressing business today. When would you like to go?”

 
“Right away, if you’re sure you can get free,”
she said.

 
“I’m going to do some maintenance on the
rafts.” Brent shot her an unfriendly look.
“For when we get
back in business.”
Then he slipped out the door.

 
“I didn’t make any friends there.” Mallory
hadn’t done anything wrong, but she felt like she’d just stuck her foot in her
mouth and there was no getting it out.

 
“Don’t worry about it,” Mike said. “He’s just
sick over this whole thing. He thinks it’s his fault we’re shut down.”

 
“Why would it be his fault?” If that were
true, it was no wonder Brent looked ill.

 
“It’s not,” Mike said. “It’s mine.”

~*~

Mallory
sat back in the leather seats of the SUV and watched a gray, lacy mist swirl
around the Superstitions. Although she wore a light sweater, a chill climbed up
her arms and neck. Mike traveled along a well-maintained dirt road but it
wasn’t hard to imagine the Apaches who had inhabited this land for generations
hiding in the shadows on their painted ponies. She blinked away the vision and
focused on the landscape.

A
continuous drizzle darkened her mood. She did love the view, though. An ominous
gray sky was a striking background for the army of cactus in front of it. The
different cacti stood out in sharp contrast in shades of green ranging from the
lima bean colored
palo
verde
trees to the darker
kelly
of
the stately saguaros. Even the awful
cholla
were
pretty—their vicious spikes white against their mint
colored stalks. She knew from the area around Vegas that the desert floor would
be covered with tiny, frail stalks of grass by tomorrow. The rain would bring
the stark land alive for a brief time. How could anyone not want to protect
this place?

 
“Does this remind you of the terrain at home?”
He waved a hand in an arc.

 
“No, not really.
The
desert there is more open.
Less cactus.”
She looked
out the side window again. “I like this.”

 
“Even after your adventure
with
cholla
last night?”
She could hear the
smile in his voice without looking at him.

 
“Yes.
Even still.”
Maybe
Skeeter’s
influence was rubbing off on her, but
she found she did appreciate this desert in ways she didn’t the one at home.
Perhaps it was just the unfamiliar versus the familiar. Whatever the reason,
she found herself drawn to the Arizona desert in ways she’d never experienced
in the Nevada landscape.

Mike
went around a bend in the road and Goldfield rose up before them. Intrigued,
Mallory leaned forward to get a better look at the town. Taking in the town, it
wasn’t hard to imagine it in another era, as a few old-fashioned buildings
lined the street. Although now a tourist attraction, the structures were over a
hundred years old.

 
Mike parked in front of one of the old
buildings and she exited the SUV. No one else seemed to be out in the rain as
Mallory stepped up on the boardwalk in front of the museum.