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  In a level clearing near the seep, Fargo dismounted and stripped the packs and saddles from the horses, then strung a picket line between two trees and tied the horses to it for the time being.

  Getting a fire going and coffee started was always the first order of business for any range cook, and Fargo wasted little time gathering wood and lighting a fire, with pine needles for kindling. Using the collapsible canvas bucket, he hauled water from the seep and poured it into the kettle, then hooked it from the tripod, suspending it over the crackling flames.

  The first boiling bubble broke the water’s surface when he caught the rapid pounding of fast-cantering hooves. He straightened from the supply pack, a bag of coffee in his hand and the enameled pot at his feet.

  At almost the same instant that Fargo saw Tobe charging into the canyon, Tobe saw him and rode straight toward the clearing. He pulled up well short of the fire, his horse snorting and blowing.

  “What are you doin’ here?” Fargo scowled in surprise.

  “The same thing you are,” Tobe shot back with defiance. “Looking for the gold.”

  “You’re supposed to be takin’ care of things back at the ranch,” Fargo reminded him.

  “What do I care? It ain’t my ranch.” Grabbing Dulcie by the arm, he swung her off the back of his saddle and lowered her to the ground, then piled off after her. “If you care so much about it, you can go back and do the chores yourself.” Turning, Tobe scanned the canyon.

  “Where’s Angie and Luke, anyway?”

  “Out lookin’ for a rock shaped like an eagle,” Fargo answered.

  Surprised, Tobe wheeled around, all ears and big eyes. “Where?” he asked, suddenly breathless.

  “They’re expectin’ to find it somewhere along that wall.” He gestured to the left side of the canyon.

  “When they find it, then what?”

  “Beats me,” Fargo admitted. “That Sommers gal’s playin’ it close to the vest.”

  Frustrated, Tobe swore under his breath. Without another word, he swung to his horse, and grabbed the saddlehorn.

  “Where’re you goin’?” Fargo eyed him askance.

  “To look for that eagle rock.” He stuck a toe in the stirrup and launched himself into the saddle.

  “Tobe, wait!” Dulcie grabbed at his leg. “I want to come with you.”

  “No, you stay here with Fargo.”

  “But I wanna look for the gold, too,” she protested.

  “Well, you can’t. Now stay here like I told you!” Without a backward glance, he rode off and left Dulcie standing there with tears swimming in her eyes.

  No tantrum followed his departure. No jutting pout of the lower lip. Just silence, and the wrenching sight of a heart-broken child. It tugged at Fargo.

  “What’s an eagle rock look like, Fargo?” She looked up at him.

  He searched for an answer, but there was only one. “Like an eagle, o’ course.”

  “Oh.” Dulcie stared at the ground in front of her. “Can I go look for the eagle rock?”

  Fargo rolled his eyes in despair, realizing he should have known she’d ask something like that. “No, you’d end up gettin’ lost and I got the noon meal to start. I ain’t got time to go lookin’ for you.”

  “I wouldn’t get lost. Honest.” It was as close to a plea as Dulcie had ever made.

  He started to refuse, but he made the mistake of looking at her and then hesitated. “You’d have to stay right around here,” he warned.

  “I promise.” Her fingers made a hasty X mark across her heart.

  “I tell you what”—Fargo reached back in the pack and pulled out a blue towel—“you go tie this towel on that tree limb over there. Then you can go look wherever you want as long as you can still see that towel.” Pausing, he drew the towel back, holding it out of reach of her outstretched hands, and looked her hard in the eyes. “You understand?”

  “Uh-huh.” She bobbed her head in eagerness, eyes shining. “I’ll make sure I can see the towel all the time. Honest, I will, Fargo.”

  Relenting a little from his firm stand, he let a ghost of a smile soften the line of his mouth. “See that you do,” he said and passed her the towel.

  But his smile blossomed into a full-blown grin as Dulcie raced to the tree that was hardly more than a sapling. There, she knotted the towel around a low branch, waved to Fargo, and moved off.

  Deeper into the canyon, the rock cliff disintegrated into a steep slope strewn with trees and jutting boulders. Reining in, Angie slowly scanned the new terrain. Few of the trees looked old enough to have been standing when Ike Wilson and his fellow outlaws had ridden through the canyon. More importantly, there was nothing that resembled the eaglerock referred to in the coded message.

  “How far back does the canyon go from here?” Her glance bounced to Luke, then back to the rugged slope.

  “About three quarters of a mile, I’d say. Then it climbs to a plateau.”

  His answer confirmed what the topo map had indicated; this was not a so-called box canyon, with only one way in or out. Rather, it was accessible from several directions.

  “Is the rest of it like this?” She nodded to the terrain before them.

  “The slope gentles out, but otherwise it’s about the same.” The bay horse took advantage of the halt and stretched its nose to the grass and tore off a chunk. The rattle of bit and bridle chain as it chewed drowned out the whir of insects and the gentle sigh of the morning breeze. Only the exuberant trill of a nearby bird competed with it for dominance.

  Silently Angie debated whether to continue on. But all her instincts said the eagle-shaped rock had to be somewhere along the nearly sheer cliff face.

  “Let’s make another pass along the wall,” she decided. “Maybe coming at it from another direction, things will look different.”

  “They generally do,” Luke agreed. “That’s how people become disoriented and lost in the wild.”

  There were easily dozens of oddly configured boulders, either in combinations with others or alone. Some protruded from the wall face; others stood along its rim. But none had reminded her of an eagle.

  It was too early in the hunt for her to feel the heaviness of disappointment. But Angie was conscious of it pulling at her. She told herself that she’d been spoiled by the early success with the pillar. When she reined her horse around to retrace their route, her gaze once again lifted to examine the cliff’s changing face.

  “You do realize,” Luke’s voice intruded again, “that it’s been nearly a hundred years since Wilson was in this canyon.” Then, always the skeptic, he added, “If he was.”

  “I know.” Angie concentrated on the varied shapes before her, trying to overlay the outline of an eagle on them.

  “That means a hundred winters with all their freezes and thaws. Freezes and thaws that act like Mother Nature’s chisel and change the sculpture of a rock that once resembled an eagle. You could be looking for something that no longer exists,” Luke warned.

  “It’s possible.” Her chin came up. “But it’s much too soon to say that’s the case this time.”

  Farther ahead, the smooth nose of a boulder jutted from the cliff like the gnarled stub of a broken tree limb. But the rounded contour of the tall rock above it was unbroken. By no stretch of the imagination could Angie alter its outline to fit the majestic silhouette of an eagle.

  Her glance skipped to the next section of face, scanning first above the narrow ledge that traversed the cliff, then below it. Intent on her search, she didn’t notice the rider walking his horse toward them.

  “Tobe, what are you doing here?” Luke challenged in surprise.

  Tobe pulled up looking startled and guilty, then made a valiant attempt to throw it off. “I’m lookin’ for that eagle rock, same as you are.” But the telltale reddening of his ears belied the assertive tone of his voice.

  “How did you know about that?” Angie questioned in amazement.

  “Fargo told me.” Tobe welcomed the excuse
to avoid facing Luke.

  “I thought you were heading back to the ranch.” Luke’s remark bordered on an accusation.

  Tobe had trouble meeting his eyes. “I changed my mind.”

  “Where’s Dulcie?” Angie asked in instant concern.

  “I left her at camp with Fargo.”

  “What about the work you’re supposed to be doing back at the ranch?” The level of Luke’s voice didn’t change, but the reproach was inherent.

  Tobe struggled to convey a careless indifference. “There’s plenty of grass in the pasture for the horses, enough that they can get by without bein’ grained for a while. I put the orphaned calf with the milk cow, so it’s not gonna be a problem if she don’t get milked. And I left the truck and stock trailer parked on the ridge. I figured I could drive back every night just to check on things. That should be good enough. And if it isn’t . . .” He faltered, searching for the words he had so carefully rehearsed in his mind. “And if it isn’t, then . . . I quit.” As if expecting an argument, Tobe rushed to add, “And you aren’t gonna talk me out of it, Luke. There’s no way I’m gonna stay at the ranch while everybody else is out here hunting that gold. Why should I, when I could be the one who finds it?”

  “You don’t even know where to look,” Luke began.

  “Neither does Griff, but that didn’t stop him,” Tobe declared. “And it’s not gonna stop me.”

  “Griff. You mean Griff Evans?” A disbelieving frown narrowed Luke’s eyes.

  “Of course I mean Griff Evans.” Just saying Griff’s name seemed to strengthen Tobe’s resolve and confidence. “He walked out of the Rimrock yesterday afternoon to come look for the gold. Haven’t you seen him?”

  “No. Not a sign.”

  “That’s funny.” Tobe frowned. “You’d think if you hadn’t seen him, you’d at least have heard him. He borrowed the Daniels’s ATV, paid ’em two hundred dollars for the use of it.”

  “We heard the ATV last night,” Luke acknowledged. “But I didn’t know Griff was at the wheel.”

  “I’m surprised he’s not here,” Tobe remarked, then grinned. “I guess he’s still trying to find the pillar, huh? That means we’re a step ahead of him, doesn’t it?”

  “We?” Luke drawled, all cool and lazy. “A little quick to count yourself in, aren’t you?”

  Tobe split a worried and anxious look between Luke and Angie. “But if I help find the gold, I’m entitled to a share.”

  “Don’t look at me. That’s Angie’s call to make.” Luke smoothly passed the problem to her. “I was hired on strictly as an outfitter and guide. So if you expect a share of the gold, it’s just as well you don’t work for me.”

  Angie studied him, then said, “Twenty percent of whatever I receive; does that sound fair?”

  The breath he’d been holding whooshed from him, the tension evaporating. “Fair enough.” Tobe tried not to sound too overjoyed with her acceptance—or the percentage.

  “You understand that I have no idea how much that might be, if anything at all?” she added.

  “Sure. No problem.” Tobe did his best to ignore the feeling of desperation clawing in his throat.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  With her head craned back, Dulcie gazed in fascination at the towering rock bluff. At first, she had seen nothing but the solidness of the cliff’s long face. Now, patterns and shapes were beginning to emerge.

  It was like cloud watching. Over there was a turtle; to the right of it, a hump-backed camel. Then, high along the rim, it kind of looked like the head of an old woman with no teeth sleeping with her mouth open. The image made Dulcie giggle into her hand.

  She went a step farther, then stopped and darted a quick look over her shoulder. Between the trees, she saw a scrap of blue fluttering in the breeze and breathed easier.

  A couple more steps and her attention was caught by the protruding roundness of a huge boulder. Her mouth opened in a round and silent O.

  “An angel,” Dulcie breathed in wonder.

  As she took a step toward it, she tripped over a tree root and went sprawling to the ground. Embarrassed, Dulcie scrambled to her feet and dusted off her jeans. She glared briefly at the protruding root that had tripped her, then ventured closer to the canyon’s towering wall.

  Next to the massive trunk of an old cottonwood, Dulcie paused to search out her angel rock again. A leafy branch obscured the top of it. She bent low to peer at it, automatically resting a hand on the bark-covered trunk. From farther down the canyon came the creak of saddle leather and the plodding clop of slow-walking horses.

  Thinking it might be Tobe, or even Angie, Dulcie stepped from the tree to look. At almost the same moment that she caught a glimpse of two riders, she heard a faint snort from somewhere very close by. She glanced around and instantly froze.

  There, on the other side of the tree, stood that scrawny and withered old man. The floppy brim of his hat hung low on his face, further shadowing eyes hooded by his tufted brows.

  As if sensing her presence, he turned fractionally and fixed the black glare of his eyes on her. “What’re you starin’ at?”

  The low growl of his voice broke the grip of silence.

  “Y-you scared me,” she whispered.

  His eyes narrowed, appearing smaller and meaner. “You should be scared.” Abruptly his glance shot to the two riders, only partially visible beyond some low brush. “She should be scared,” he muttered to himself. Then his expression crumbled into something bitter and forlorn. “Guess I got too old to frighten anyone fer long.”

  Slightly reassured by his comment, Dulcie studied the cracked and splintering age lines that crossed and recrossed his weathered skin.

  “You’re really, really old, aren’t you?” she marveled.

  Saddlebags snorted. “Think you’re a smart one to figure that out, do ya?” Again his attention was distracted by the slowly approaching riders. “She’s a clever one, too. But not clever enough, I’ll wager. She’ll come t’ a stop here, jus’ like I did.”

  Puzzled by his statement, Dulcie cocked her head. “Why?”

  But she was denied an answer by Angie’s questioning call. “Dulcie? Is that you?”

  Turning, she saw Angie standing in the stirrups, a good forty yards from her yet.

  “Hey, Angie!” Dulcie waved eagerly to her.

  Immediately both Angie and Luke cantered their horses toward her location. Excited, Dulcie started to share the news with Saddlebags.

  “Angie’s com—” The word died on her lips when she discovered the old man had vanished.

  Before she could even think about looking for him, Luke and Angie rode up. “What are you doing out here, Dulcie?” Angie questioned in concern.

  “Looking for the eagle rock and—”

  Luke interrupted before she could tell them about talking to Saddlebags. “Where’s Fargo? Tobe said you were with him.”

  “He’s back at camp.” A second after she turned to point toward the site, Dulcie gasped in alarm. “The towel. I can’t see it!”

  “What towel?” Luke wondered.

  “The one Fargo had me hang on a tree,” Dulcie explained anxiously. “He said I wasn’t supposed to go where I couldn’t see it. I didn’t mean to, honest.”

  “We know you didn’t,” Angie assured her.

  Luke walked his horse to her. “Come on. We’ll take you back to camp.” Leaning low to the side, he scooped Dulcie off the ground, and as he straightened he set her across the front of the saddle. Her shoulders slumped in dejection.

  “Fargo’s probably gonna be mad, isn’t he?” Dulcie mumbled.

  “A little maybe,” Luke agreed. “But not as mad as he would have been if you had actually become lost.”

  They hadn’t traveled more than a horse’s length when Dulcie spotted the blue cloth. “Look!” She pointed to it, her whole face lighting up. “There’s the towel right there. It was just hidden for a minute, huh?”

  “It looks that way,” Luke agreed, battl
ing back a smile.

  “I just couldn’t see it for a little bit. That’s not the same as not being able to see it at all, is it?” she declared, with growing confidence.

  “It isn’t exactly the same, but you were lucky this time,” Angie told her. “Next time you might wander too far and really be lost.”

  “I won’t. I promise.” But Dulcie was sobered by her previous promise to Fargo before she set out to look for the eagle rock. The memory of that triggered another thought. “Did you find the eagle rock?”

  “Not yet,” Angie admitted.

  “Me neither,” Dulcie sighed in disappointment.

  The roan’s sides swelled a fraction of a second before the gelding nickered to the horses tied along the picket line. In the wide clearing to the right, wispy smoke curled from a campfire. Fargo was down on one knee beside it, stirring something in a large pot. Observing their approach, he pushed to his feet, the movement a bit jerky and awkward, indicating a stiffening of his joints.

  “No luck, I take it,” he guessed from their expressions, then waved the spoon toward the campfire. “There’s coffee made and the stew’ll be hot in a minute. Might as well get down and have something to eat before you go look some more.”

  Although Angie wasn’t all that hungry, taking a break seemed like a good idea. So far she had seen nothing that remotely resembled an eagle. The lunch break would give her a chance to relax, regroup, and return to the search with fresh eyes.

  Without a word, she dismounted and handed the reins to Luke when he reached for them. She accepted the cup of coffee Fargo poured for her, then wandered to the edge of the clearing to gaze at the canyon wall.

  Several minutes later Luke joined her, cup in hand. She acknowledged his presence with a brief, smiling glance.

  “You’re unusually quiet,” Luke observed.

  “Thinking, I guess,” she murmured absently.

  “You’ve been doing a lot of that since we reached the canyon.”