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’SGPSCOORDINATES, THE HELICOPTER ARRIVEDwithin 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.
