He started laughing again. It was high and cracked, echoing across the rocks.
“When did you see him?” Blaze asked, taking a step closer.
“Two nights back!” the man yelped. “Riders everywhere with that Wilder. Diggin’, haulin’, buryin’. The stars watched ’em, and they didn’t like what they saw!”
Then, his laughter turned to coughing. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest.
Blaze stared at him. He was ill. Marisol hopped off her horse and knelt beside the man.
“He’s dehydrated.” She pulled a canteen from her hip and tipped it toward his lips, but he pushed it away.
“Don’t want it,” he rasped. “Water won’t save me. You go near that place, you’ll see what I saw.”
“What’s that?” Blaze asked.
“The dead dig too,” he whispered, then fell backward into the dust.
For a long moment, the trio simply stared at the crazy stranger. It was like they expected him to get up at any second.
Eventually, Marisol checked his pulse. Then, she looked up.
“He’s out cold,” she said.
“Mad,” Graycloud said simply. “Too long in the sun.”
Blaze stood, watching the old man’s chest rise and fall. “Maybe. But he knew Wilder’s name.”
“Could’ve heard it anywhere,” Marisol replied, corking her canteen. “Word travels fast when blood’s involved.”
“Still,” Blaze said, “we’ll ride toward Dead Rock. Just in case.”
“Chasin’ a fool’s story could get us killed,” the Indian warned.
“So could ignoring it,” Blaze said.
They left the man with water and shade, then pushed on. The land grew rougher and took on the color of burnt clay. A vulture circled high overhead.
By midafternoon, they reached a ridge overlooking a vast flat stretch of desert. There, faint but visible even from a distance, were long trenches as if something had clawed up from below.
“There,” Blaze said. “You see that?”
Marisol raised her eyebrows. “Looks like dig sites.”
“And fresh,” Graycloud added.
Blaze’s chest tightened. “He wasn’t lying.”
“You think Wilder found somethin’?” Marisol asked.
“Maybe,” Blaze said. “But if he did, I want to know what it was.”
Graycloud dismounted, crouching to study the ground. “Tracks lead that way...at least one heavy wagon, heading north. He’s moving whatever he dug up.”
“Then we follow,” Blaze said.
Marisol looked uneasy. “Blaze...that old man wasn’t right in the head. You really want to chase after a cursed hole in the desert?”
He met her eyes. “I don’t care if the gold’s cursed or blessed. If Wilder’s after it, I need to see why.”
