The Last Mile, page 12
Gage shook the memory off as Abby reached the bottom and stepped out of the loop around her waist. Gage brought the rope back up, looped the coil over his shoulder, and started down the steep rock face. Where the route got dicey, he tied the rope around a boulder and hand-over-handed the rest of his way down the mountain to what was left of the washed-out trail.
Abby was waiting. She walked over and threw her arms around his neck. “I don’t care if I’m breaking the rules. I’m just glad you’re down safely.” Gage allowed himself a moment to enjoy her embrace, burying his face in her hair.
“You scared me,” he admitted.
“I’m okay.” She eased back out of his arms. “But one of the mules is gone.”
“Drowned?”
She shook her head. “Kyle thinks he broke loose and headed back to the ranch.”
“Which mule?”
Kyle answered as he walked up, leading the second mule. “Snickers, the one we were using to carry your equipment and some of the maps. I left the panniers under a staked down tarp so everything is there, just no way to carry it.”
“We’ll pare everything down to basics, pack Mort with the heavy stuff, and divide the rest of the load among us.”
“Whatever we leave behind,” Kyle said, “my dad and I can pack out later.”
“That sounds good. Let’s get going.” Gage dug through everything in both mules’ panniers, extracting the most important items. “We’ll only need enough pellets to feed one animal. We’re boiling and treating our water. With the rain, the water basins should be full, but it’s imperative to have at least enough on hand for emergencies.”
Like the weather changing and the basin drying up, or the water holes not being where they were shown on the map.
“I hate to leave my digital camera,” Abby said. “But my little Elph 190 is a lot smaller and takes great video and stills.”
Gage nodded. They sorted through everything, bringing the food, pellets for the mule, emergency water, the maps, and as much of their tarps and prospecting gear as they could manage. Gage always carried the sat phone and charger in his pack, so that wasn’t a problem.
It took over an hour to get organized, then the rest of the morning to navigate around the washout, using game trails to move through the hostile landscape. The rain had thrown them off schedule yesterday. After the flash flood, today’s slow traveling threw them even further behind.
Mateo scouted ahead, returning to guide them along the safest route back to the trail marked on King’s map. It was after noon, the sun burning down on them, hotter today than yesterday, the air steamy after all the rain.
“Let’s take a break,” Gage said. “We need to hydrate and power down some calories, and I need to check the GPS, see how close we are to reaching our original route.”
“I need a pit stop,” Abby said, heading for a granite outcropping just up the trail.
“Don’t go far,” Gage warned, thinking of her brush with the rattlesnake.
She waved him off and disappeared around the boulders out of sight.
A few feet below, the flash-flood washout trailed off to the right, while the game trail that Mateo had them following rounded the mountain to the left.
Gage was just finishing a power bar, chasing it with a bottle of boiled water, when he heard Abby scream. Fear hit him as the sound of his name echoed through the mountains. Gage started running.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ABBY LEANED BACK AGAINST THE BOULDER, HER LEGS SHAKING SO badly she was afraid they wouldn’t hold her up. She felt light-headed, her mouth bone dry.
The washout caused by the floodwaters snaked through the dead grass and boulders a few feet below. The violent current had carried a huge clump of debris: cottonwood branches, root balls from upended trees, spiny cactus, and medium-sized boulders, a deadly knot that swept down the ravine, wiping out everything in its path.
Including the man with his eyes open, staring sightlessly at the silver orb burning down from the sky. The deadly knot had jammed into a tight spot between two towering rock walls, holding its prey captive.
“Abby!” Gage shouted her name as she spotted him racing toward her. He caught her shoulders. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He must have noticed the pallor of her face or felt her trembling because a big arm slid around her waist, and he drew her closer. “Tell me what happened.”
She swallowed, pointed toward the grisly corpse—the broken body, the bones angled into impossible positions.
“Jesus.” Gage let out a slow breath and turned her into his shoulder to block the scene. “Poor bastard must have got swept up in the floodwaters.”
Abby hung on for a moment, then took a calming breath and eased away. She thought about the man who had died, couldn’t help wondering about his family. Her heart squeezed. Another victim of the notorious Superstitions.
She flicked a glance at the dead man, then quickly looked away. “Surely he wasn’t out here by himself.” She swallowed. “If he was with friends, why haven’t they come looking for him?”
“Maybe they’ve been looking but haven’t been able to find him.”
Mateo and Kyle ran up just then. Gage pointed and Kyle cursed.
“One thing my dad taught me,” Kyle said. “You don’t mess around with the weather out here. It rains, you get your ass somewhere safe.” He looked over at Gage. “You’ve got a sat phone, right? We need to call 911.”
Gage nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” The hand at Abby’s waist firmly urged her away from the disturbing scene. She let him guide her back to where the mule was tethered. Their packs rested on the ground nearby.
Gage took off his wraparound Ray-Bans and rubbed his eyes, then shoved the sunglasses back in place. He dug out his sat phone, activated it, and made the call, explaining what had happened and giving the 911 dispatcher the GPS coordinates of the victim’s body. The sheriff’s department would be responding. Gage promised to wait at the scene until law enforcement arrived.
“They’re bringing in a chopper,” Gage said. “We’ll need to make a statement once they get here.”
“I wonder who he is,” Abby said. “Or was.” She looked up to see Mateo quietly walking toward them, the dark skin over cheekbones stretched taut.
“I think he is one of the men who have been following us,” Mateo said.
“What the hell?” Gage frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Yesterday I spotted their tracks, three men, maybe more. Then it started raining.”
“And?”
“I wanted to be sure, but the rain destroyed any sign.”
“But you think a group of men have been following us and the dead guy was one of them.”
“Yes.”
Gage swore. “Let’s find out if you’re right.” He started walking, and Abby hurried to catch up with him.
“What are you doing?” Kyle asked as he joined them.
“The dead man’s fully dressed. Good chance he’s got ID somewhere on him.”
“What about the police?” Abby asked.
“Sheriff’s department,” he corrected. “We’ll tell them the truth—we searched the body trying to find some identification.” They reached the spot above the washout.
“Stay here,” Gage said. As if she had any desire to go near a dead man.
Kyle stood next to her, watching Gage and Mateo make the descent, picking their way carefully down the slope, then over the debris in the washout. The body appeared to be wedged in tight.
“Dad and I ran across an old skeleton once. Bones were scattered. Never found out who it was.” His gaze fixed on the body. “Not the same as this.”
“No . . .” Abby whispered.
Gage reached into one of the front pockets of the man’s jeans, then searched the other. Pulling out a black leather wallet, he stuck it into a deep pocket of his cargo pants. Both men climbed up from the washout.
“You found it,” Abby said when he returned.
Gage took out the wallet and flipped it open, read the guy’s driver’s license. “Boyd McGrath. Address on Lawrence Street in Denver.”
Adrenaline jolted through her. “Denver. It’s got to be them.”
“One of them, for sure. I took a good look at the body. Tall. Lean, broad-shouldered build. Could be the guy who attacked you.”
“Attacked you?” Kyle repeated. “What’s going on here?”
“It’s a long story,” Gage said. “You know we’re hunting gold. We didn’t tell you other people are also on the hunt. They believe we’ve got the information they need to find it. We hoped we’d left them in Denver.” He held up the wallet. “Doesn’t look that way.”
“Boyd McGrath . . .” Abby repeated. “Why does that name sound familiar?” Her head jerked up. “Oh, my God, I know who he is. I remember my cousin Jude talking about him. Boyd was in the military. Jude idolized him. I had a feeling my cousin had something to do with this.”
“Looks like you were right.”
Abby made a little sound in her throat. “I didn’t want the man dead. I just wanted him to leave me alone.”
“If he’s the guy who attacked you, his greed made him dead. You didn’t have a damned thing to do with it.”
“How did they find you?” Kyle asked.
“Don’t know for sure,” Gage said.
“My cousin, Jude, is a gamer. He can get just about anything off the internet. He could have tracked my credit card. Or Gage’s.”
“Those two guys who checked in at the ranch the night before we left,” Gage said. “We never saw their faces. Could be Boyd McGrath was one of them.”
“His body’s too mangled for me to recognize him,” Kyle said. “Let me see the picture on his driver’s license.”
Gage flipped open the wallet. Kyle studied the photo and shook his head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying much attention. I was busy making sure we were ready to leave the next morning. If he was one of them, could be they were watching us when we left.”
Gage nodded. “We lost valuable time yesterday. Without all the gear, they’d be able to travel a whole lot faster. Could have been right behind us by the time the rain started.”
Mateo looked at Kyle. “If they ran into Smiley on his way out, he could have given them the location of our last campsite.”
Abby’s gaze jerked to Gage. “You don’t think they would have hurt him?”
“I need to call my dad,” Kyle said. “He and Smiley are due back at the ranch today. They may be in cell range by now.”
Abby’s heart pounded as she waited for Kyle’s call to go through. His body relaxed a little when Walt picked up the phone.
“Dad. I was hoping you’d have cell service by now. We’ve run into some trouble. Are you and Smiley okay?”
She could only hear part of the conversation, but from the grim look that settled over Kyle’s features, it wasn’t good news. He told his father what had happened. Walt said something she couldn’t hear. Kyle ended the call and handed the phone back to Gage.
“Dad’s okay. They’re about a mile from the horse trailer. Smiley’s in pretty rough shape. Just got three bars or they would have called.”
Worry darkened Gage’s features. “What happened?”
“Dad says three men waylaid Smiley on his way to the rendezvous point. They beat him up, threatened to shoot him if he didn’t tell them which way we went. Smiley gave them our last location, figured you and Mateo were savvy enough to handle them if they managed to find you. Figured they probably wouldn’t—even though they’d talked to old Spitting Crow about which way you were going.”
Mateo spoke up. “He is the Apache who told me about the wagon road.”
“They must have someone with them who knows the mountains,” Gage said. “Any idea who it could be?”
Kyle nodded. “Guy named Ray Peters would be my guess. Ray’s in his forties, lived here all his life. He’s the kind of guy who’s always got an angle. You don’t want to turn your back on him, but he knows the Superstitions almost as well as my dad.”
“Wouldn’t Smiley have recognized him?”
“Maybe he stayed out of sight. If it’s Ray, he’d have at least one of his cronies with him. Doesn’t go anywhere without backup.”
Gage stared off toward the stark, cactus-covered mountains in the distance. “Smiley needs to call the police.”
Kyle shook his head. “Not his way. My dad, either. Dad wants me to bring you out. I told him there was no way you’d quit when we were so close.”
Gage’s blue eyes zeroed in on Abby. “Walt’s right. Be smarter to head back to the ranch.”
Abby felt the words like a punch in the stomach. “You can’t be serious. You said yourself greed killed Boyd. He got greedy and paid the price.”
“Abby—”
She turned to Kyle. “There’s a hundred percent bonus if you’ll keep going. We should be there by late tomorrow, the next morning at the latest. What do you say?”
Kyle lifted his battered straw hat and resettled it low on his forehead. “You really think you’re gonna find something?”
“My grandfather thought so. So do the men following us. So yes, I think there’s something there, and I think finding it’s worth the risk.”
“All right, I’m in.” Kyle looked at Gage. “What do you say, Gage?”
Abby’s gaze locked on Gage. “You’ve been in worse situations—I know you have. We can’t give up. Not yet.”
Gage started shaking his head. “If I were by myself—”
“Well, you aren’t. You’re with me, and we had a deal. If we go back, I’ll just start over with someone who won’t quit on me when the going gets tough.”
Gage’s jaw hardened. A knot bunched in his cheek. “Damn you, Abby. That’s not the reason, and you know it.”
She lifted her chin. “Kyle’s willing to go. If you want to head back, maybe we’ll just go on without you.”
“Whoa, wait a minute.” Kyle held up a hand. “I’m not getting in the middle of this.”
Gage’s blue eyes could have burned through steel. A muscle jerked in his cheek. “All right, Abby, you win.” He turned to Kyle. “Looks like the hunt is still on. Soon as the police are finished, we’re on our way.” Gage cast her a last furious glance and stalked off down the trail.
Abby felt a pinch in her heart. She had goaded him unfairly, and she knew it. Gage wasn’t a quitter. He was only trying to protect her. But she hadn’t come this far to fail.
She noticed the tight muscles across his back and his stiff shoulders as he retreated. She’d been bluffing about Kyle. As much as she wanted to find the treasure, the two of them going in without backup, without Gage and Mateo, would be stupid.
She ached to tell him the truth. And find away to convince him to forgive her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FOLLOWING GAGE’S GPS COORDINATES, THE HELICOPTER ARRIVED within the hour, landing on a flat spot on the slope of a mountain a hundred yards away. Four people got out: two uniformed sheriff’s deputies and two CSIs, one of them a woman.
The female CSI, with a camera slung over her shoulder, headed directly for the body, accompanied by her partner. While the deputies surveyed the storm damage and prepared to interview Gage and the others, the CSIs worked the death scene, which included photographing the surroundings and extracting the body from the debris.
Deputy Christopher Mayes, a muscular African American man in his forties, began asking questions, starting with Gage. His partner, Deputy Salazar, younger, with coarse black hair and dark eyes, led Kyle aside and interviewed him.
Since McGrath’s death was almost certainly an accident, the questions were straightforward and didn’t take long. Gage had talked to Abby, and they had agreed not to mention the possible connection between Boyd McGrath and the attack on Abby in Denver. There was no proof, and they had enough trouble already.
The deputies completed their questions before the CSIs were finished removing the body and dealing with the death scene, but the afternoon was beginning to wane, so the cops released them to continue their journey.
Gage had spoken only a few words to Abby since their earlier argument. Every time he thought of her defiance, her willingness to ignore his dictates and put herself at risk, he got angry all over again. Though he admitted to a grudging hint of respect.
Abby’s determination was one of the things that had attracted him to her in the first place. Along with her willingness to go head-to-head with him, which few men and even fewer women had the nerve to do.
It took several hours of hiking through unexplored territory, much of it uphill, to find the original trail marked on King’s map. Gage and Kyle were now both openly carrying weapons, Gage’s. 45 caliber Smith and Wesson holstered on his belt, Kyle armed with a Glock 19. Now that they knew they were being followed, it was better to be prepared.
The route forward was even more difficult than what they had endured so far, with sections of the trail crumbled away, leaving only a ledge barely wide enough for the sure-footed mule to pass.
They stopped to rest, power snack, and hydrate. With only an hour of daylight left, Mateo set off ahead to find a place to camp. After they’d left the death scene, they headed into more unfamiliar terrain, and Mateo had taken the lead.
“Keep your eyes open,” Gage warned him. “There’s no way to know if we’ve still got men dogging our trail.”
Mateo nodded and quietly disappeared around the first bend. They continued up the trail, so steep in places Gage wasn’t sure the mule could make it. But old Mort was as stubborn as Abby, and Kyle seemed to take the harsh conditions as a personal challenge.
The days had been steadily growing hotter, the afternoon sun throbbing down mercilessly. Gage figured Abby was exhausted, but she didn’t complain. She was in the hunt all the way, and he couldn’t help admiring her for it.
They kept pushing onward. By the time Mateo returned, everyone was more than ready to end the day.
“Good place to camp ahead,” Mateo said. “Not far. Trail gets better after that.”
“That’s good news,” Gage said.
