Skeletons Among Us: Legends of Treasure Book 2 Page 6

  Rod stirred in his sleeping bag. “Yep, like the good old days, except we all have more wrinkles and a little less hair.”

  “But we have more money,” piped up Brian. “That’s a good thing.”

  “Speak for yourself,” grumbled Derrick.

  “You’d have plenty of money if you didn’t give it all away to that organization of yours,” said Melissa. “I tell you it’s sucking you dry.”

  “What organization?” asked Rod.

  “Nothing.” Derrick looked the other direction. “I don’t give them that much money anyway. Melissa is always making a big deal of everything.”

  “Let’s not get into that argument again.” Rep. Lankin spoke. “Here’s an interesting conversation starter. What’s the one thing you’d all have done differently in the last six years?”

  The question sparked anything but a conversation. No one spoke for a good half minute.

  “How about you give us your answer first,” Melissa finally proposed.

  “Okay,” their former professor began, “I would have gotten into politics a little earlier. I mean, what’s my chance of getting elected as president when I didn’t start rubbing shoulders with the right people until my 40s. I worry I’m getting too old to do everything I want to do. I need more money and time.”

  “Don’t we all,” agreed Brian. He cleared his throat. “I’ll go next. I would have stayed away from the party scene. The first couple of years after college were pretty bad. Kind of a blur, actually.”

  The honesty of his answer turned the conversation from surface deep to personal. Tom spoke next. “I would have visited my dad more before he died.”

  Derrick nodded. “Same with me. I wish I’d gotten to say goodbye to my mom. Her cancer took her quickly.”

  Melissa’s voice was quiet. “I wouldn’t have defended the serial murderer Clay Shaw. That case put me in a dark place for months.”

  Rod cleared his throat. “You already all know mine. I would have never married Dakota. Worse decision ever.”

  Everyone looked at Maria, waiting for her answer.

  “I thought the question was for ASU alma maters?” she stammered.

  “Life affects everyone,” said Rep. Lankin. “But you don’t have to join in if you don’t want to.”

  What would she have changed? Her mind whirled. There was an awful lot about the last six years she’d like to redo.

  Everyone had answered so sincerely, she knew she had to as well or they would sense her fakeness.

  “Hmmm … if I could redo something from the last six years …” Her voice faltered then picked up again, stronger. “… I would have made sure I died first.”

  The group waited for more, but she gave no explanation.

  But she knew. If she’d been the first of her black ops team to die in Tehran, she wouldn’t have to face the constant reminder every single day that she shouldn’t be enjoying life. No one else from her team was. Nor ever would. Survival guilt was horrible.

  Yes, if she could redo anything, she would have made sure she’d died first.

  Rod reached over and put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the familiar hollow at his side. Her head fit snugly under his chin.

  Everyone in the group repositioned themselves in their sleeping bags. At last Tom broke the silence. “It sounds as if your life as an analyst must have had a few dangerous moments.”

  Without taking her eyes off the popping flames in the fire, Maria responded. “A few.”

  Rep. Lankin once again expertly changed the subject and asked Melissa the details of her latest defense case. Lawyer small talk ensued. When that conversation waned, Derrick spoke up. “Maria, do you know much about the Superstitions?”

  “No,” she answered. “In fact, I kept calling them the wrong thing. Is it the Superstitious or Superstition Mountains?”

  “Superstition,” said Rod. His face sported a teasing smile that Maria saw in the light of the fire.

  Maria continued. “I’d love to know some of their history. Seems like an interesting place.”

  The night air wrapped itself around the group, delivering a perfect ambience for campfire storytelling.

  Derrick thought a minute. “Where should I begin? With the strange noises? The ghost sightings? The slaughtering of Indians? Or the beheading of treasure hunters? There’s a lot to tell.”

  “Start with the Peraltas,” interjected Rep. Lankin. “I always find that a logical place to begin.”

  Maria propped her head up on her makeshift pillow. She had a feeling this might take a while.

  “In the 1840s,” Derrick began, “a man named Don Miguel Peralta owned the Superstitions, at least according to the Spanish. He lived in Mexico and would travel northward on occasion to the mountains where he mined for gold. However, the Pima and Apache Indians disagreed with his claim of ownership, since they had already been living on the land for hundreds and hundreds of years. But it was mostly the Apaches who gave Peralta and his miners a bad time.”

  “How so?” asked Maria.

  “On Peralta’s last trip, he set up base camp and started mining as usual. The Apache warned him to leave, but he didn’t.” Derrick’s voice grew a sing-song quality the more he spoke. “ So the Indians split into two groups. The first attacked and scared the miners into trying to escape through a narrow corridor where they then met the second group of Apaches waiting for them with arrows and flint knives. Their bodies were left to feed the coyotes, stripped and scalped.”

  A hush fell over the group as Derrick let the gruesome picture sink into their imaginations.

  “Oh stop, Derrick. I don’t know why you enjoy recounting these horrible stories,” Melissa huffed.

  “Why do you enjoy defending people who commit horrible crimes?” retorted Tom.

  “Fine.” Melissa’s voice was curt. “Tell all the nasty details. What do I care?”

  Derrick resumed his storytelling. “There’s not too much more to tell. Don Miguel Peralta was among the dead, but somehow his two youngest sons escaped. They made their way back to Mexico to tell the family what had happened.”

  “So why do people call the treasure that’s supposedly hidden here the Dutchman’s gold mine instead of the Peralta gold mine?” A cold prickle entered Maria’s toes. She rubbed her feet together to make it go away.

  Derrick answered, “Good question. In the late 1800s, when Arizona was a U.S. Territory, a man named Jacob Walz found one of Peralta’s old gold mines. He died from pneumonia before he could show someone where it was located. People called the hidden stash the Dutchman’s gold mine because Walz was from Germany. Ever since then, thousands of people have looked for Walz’s mine. Hundreds have died, their bodies decapitated and left to the elements.”

  It wasn’t that Maria felt scared, but she did feel, in an unexplainable way, the violence and greed that echoed off the canyon walls. The image of headless bodies rotting in the sun saddened her. Someone’s loved one … gone. Killed. And for what? A stupid chunk of metal that society decided to call valuable.

  “The fire’s going out,” Rod said. “I’ll grab us some wood. I need to get up anyway.”

  As Rod walk away from the drowsy group surrounding the dwindling campfire, Maria hoped Dakota’s ghost would stay clear of him tonight. They’d had enough speaking of the dead. Maria knew too well what it was like seeing those from beyond the grave. It was disconcerting, and that was with Acalan, who had been helping Maria. Who knew why Dakota’s ghost was still hanging around? Perhaps there was some unfinished business? Maria assumed her life must have ended … suddenly. Had it been violent? Accidental? Had it been murder?

  Once she got back to Kanab, Maria would do some of her own investigating. Rod needed closure, and to be honest, Maria wanted some as well. Having the ghost of her boyfriend’s ex-wife hanging around was not doing much for their relationship.

  As she was lost in her thoughts, Tom shifted in his sleeping bag at Maria’s right side and managed to slide up ne
xt to her.

  “Why do they make these things so uncomfortable?” he asked. “Do they really think a grown man wants to be swaddled like a newborn baby? I can hardly move. Talk about claustrophobia.”

  “Not a big camper, eh?” Maria wondered when he was going to remove himself from her side.

  “Fifty degree weather in a sleeping bag is rather miserable,” he said, sounding a bit defensive.

  “Your bag’s for cold weather.” Maria shifted ever so slightly, trying to ease away from him. “You wouldn’t be so hot if you had a warm-weather bag.”

  “Nope,” said Tom, turning his head and leaning in close to Maria’s face. “I’d still be hot, ’cause I’d still be this close to you.”

  What was his problem?

  It was the second come on of the evening. Maria had been willing to overlook the first. But two within a hour? Tom was a moron.

  His comment took Maria off guard, and she was stunned speechless for longer than she wanted to be. It made her look … affected. Which she wasn’t. At all.

  “Seriously?” asked Melissa, sitting up in her bag. “Rod is literally less than fifty feet away and you’re making passes at his girlfriend. To top it off, you did it in front of the rest of us.” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth—like a mother hen. Her role in the group’s dynamics was obvious.

  Tom laughed as if he was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar and he was about to talk his way out of it. “Hey, I’ve never been shy about who I flirt with. I say if there’s no ring on her finger, there’s no rule against me showing … interest.”

  “A ring, huh?” mumbled Brian who Maria thought was already asleep. “That’s never stopped you in the past.”

  “Shut up.” Tom threw his shoe at Brian, who batted it away with his eyes still half closed. “I’m not the guy who had an affair with his marriage counselor.”

  That comment seemed to wake Brian up completely. With a sound between irritation and anger, he barked, “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You should keep your big mouth shut when you …”

  “Knock it off,” said Melissa. “Both of you. Maria doesn’t need to hear you two dig up past skeletons. Let’s have a nice rest around the campfire so we’re fresh for the hike tomorrow. It’s going to be pretty intense, isn’t it Derrick? Professor Lankin?”

  The Superstition Mountain gurus Derrick and Rep. Lankin said nothing. They were the only ones who were actually asleep.

  “What’s everyone talking about?” Rod approached with his arm full of logs.

  “Nothing,” said Melissa in a terse voice. “We’re all headed off to sleep now.”

  Rod built the fire up and slipped into his bag on the left side of Maria. He scooted closer and kissed her long and tenderly. “Tonight reminds me of the time we were out sleeping in the Moquith Mountains.”

  Maria was painfully aware that Tom’s breathing was not that of someone who was sleeping. She was sure he was listening to every word.

  “Me too.” But then Maria couldn’t stop herself from adding, “Except that Tara Crane, the Miss America of Kanab tourism, was there doing her best to seduce you.”

  “Never even noticed her. I knew what I wanted.” Rod pulled his arm out of the confines of his sleeping bag and traced the outline of Maria’s ear. It sent shivers to her toes.

  Maria turned to look at him. His face was the type that looked at home in the open wild next to a campfire. His mouth was set in a wide grin with straight white teeth that gleamed in the darkened backdrop of night. His strong nose that used to bother Maria now seemed like a perfect fit. Everything about him said “I am a man.”

  And she liked it. She really, really liked it.

  Raising herself onto her elbow, it was her turn to plant a rather long kiss onto his lips. “Hiking will be fun tomorrow. Sleep well.”

  With that, she lay back down and told herself to ignore the barely audible snort coming from Tom’s sleeping bag.

  CHAPTER TEN

  In 1845 Don Miguel Peralta found something that made the risk [with the Apaches] well worth taking. Somewhere in that enormous snarl of jagged rocks, he hit the mother lode. It was a chimney lode—a wide vertical vein of pure gold encased in a rose-colored quartz shaft so deep that only the devil himself knew its true depth. The miners immediately began digging. Within a remarkably short time, they had loaded up all the gold their burros could carry. They hurriedly left the Superstitions [but] Peralta vowed to return.

  —“Mysteries & Miracles of Arizona” by Jack Kutz. Rhombus Publishing Company, 1992, page 20.

  MARIA WOKE UP THE next morning to the sea-water blue of Rod’s eyes. He was sitting up with a blanket over his shoulders, staring at her. Not in a creepy way. More like in a “would you like breakfast in bed?” sort of way.

  “Hey,” croaked Maria. “What time is it?”

  “Early.” Rod’s short hair looked the same as when he’d gone to sleep. Maria reached up in an attempt to smooth her own, which was probably everywhere. A night in a sleeping bag did that. It wasn’t like sleeping on her silk pillowcase at home, which was the one luxury she afforded herself since Tehran.

  Not true. Food, clothes, and a bed also were luxuries compared to what she had lived through. But her silk pillowcase was by far the cherry on top.

  “Can I get you some coffee?” Rod pointed to a metal pot sitting on a flat rock near the fire.

  How long had he been up?

  He must have sensed the question. “I didn’t sleep so great. I’ve been thinking.”

  “Oh,” said Maria, cautiously. Why did that phrase scare her? “About what?”

  “Us.”

  A lump gathered at the base of Maria’s throat. Was that a good thing? Or bad? Could go either way.

  “And—” Maria fumbled with the pony tail holder she’d slipped around her wrist before going to sleep. She gathered her thick dark hair in the back of her head and shoved it through the elastic band.

  “And I think,” said Rod slowly, “we should go for a walk.”

  Bad. It was most definitely bad.

  Maria cleaned up in two minutes, including a minty-fresh teeth brushing. If she was about to get dumped, she wanted to be sure her breath didn’t stink.

  “The sunrise will be the prettiest from over there.” Rod grabbed Maria’s elbow and led her in the direction he was looking.

  An odd way to begin a break up.

  In the pre-dawn light, the sky above the Superstition Mountains was alive with colors, blending and swirling with one another. It was a regal view, one that made Maria stop walking and gaze into the heavens.

  “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” whispered Rod. His mouth lingered by her ear, sending goosebumps down her neck and arms.

  He wrapped the blanket that had been over his shoulders around both of them, lessening the chill of the morning air. It made walking more difficult, but warmer. And closer. And, Maria admitted, nicer.

  “I love this time of day,” Rod said. “It’s my absolute favorite. Everything looks more beautiful, including you.” He stopped walking, leaned in close to Maria, and grazed her cheek with his mouth. The stubble on his chin tickled her. She took a backward step and collided with a rock wall.

  So, perhaps he wasn’t breaking up with her after all.

  Rod placed his hands flat against the rock, trapping Maria in between his arms, giving her no way to escape. He didn’t say a word but confidently stared into her eyes.

  The only time Maria had felt such an invasion of privacy was during her interrogations in Tehran. But this felt much, much different.

  “I think the sunrise is that direction,” squeaked Maria, pointing behind Rod.

  He didn’t turn his head. His gazed locked on her until at last he closed the distance between them. One hand gently cupped the side of her head while the other slipped in between her back and the rock, pulling her to him.

  Morning was indeed a good time for him. He kissed her hungrily, like the dawning of the new day c
ompletely rested on his ability to make her want to melt into his arms.

  Which she wanted to.

  And did.

  The chilly air tried to nip at their faces, but their combined breath chased it away. Time stopped. Even the sunrise seemed willing to wait for their embrace to finish.

  Rod continued kissing Maria. First on her lips, then her forehead, and then on the tender spot right in front of her ear, which nearly sparked a martial arts self-defense move until she reminded herself she was safe with Rod. He was the kindest man she’d ever met.

  He pressed his lips against hers again, more urgently, taking Maria’s breath away. What was going on? He wasn’t usually so … insistent.

  Maria slid her mouth next to his cheek, giving herself the chance to breathe. “What’s gotten into you today?”

  “Everything.” Rod didn’t pull away, but instead talked quietly into ear. “When I was watching you sleep earlier, I couldn’t stop asking myself how I got so lucky.” He took a deep breath. “Six years ago my heart broke in two. When Dakota left me I was … well, let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. I wasn’t sure I could have a relationship like that again. I think not knowing if she was still around … it made it tricky to get involved. Yesterday, when I learned Dakota was gone, it was a huge shock. I felt the sadness, betrayal, and confusion all over again. I’m still feeling some of those things, but at the same time I feel a release. Like an enormous weight has been taken from me. I still have questions about what happened, but for the first time in a long while I feel … ready.”

  “Ready for what?” Maria felt practically hypnotized by the closeness she felt to him.

  “Ready for someone gorgeous.” He kissed her. “Smart.” Another kiss. “And strong to be an important part of my life.” He brushed her lips with his and then hovered a moment over them. Not touching, but teasing that he might.

  His breathing was fast. Maria felt the air from his open mouth warm her face, making her want the moment to never end.

  The sun tired at last of waiting for them. A brilliant ray of light shot from the horizon and spotlighted them by the rock. Maria slipped her arms around Rod and sensed his back muscles tighten and then relax in her hold. “Speaking of gorgeous, smart, and strong,” she said snuggled into his chest, “you’re rather amazing yourself. And considerate. You’re one of the most thoughtful people I know.”