NOT EVERY

RIVER

Robbi McCoy

2010

Copyright © 2010 Robbi McCoy

Bella Books, Inc.

P.O. Box 10543

Tallahassee, FL 32302

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechani-

cal, including photocopying, without permission in writing from

the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper

First Edition

Editor: Katherine V. Forrest

Cover Designer: Linda Callaghan

ISBN 13: 978-1-59493-182-6

Also by Robbi McCoy

Waltzing At Midnight

Songs Without Words

About the Author

Robbi McCoy is a native Californian who lives with her

partner and two cats in the Central Valley between the

mountains and the sea. She is an avid hiker with a

particular fondness for the deserts of the American

Southwest. She also enjoys gardening, culinary adventures

and the theater. She works full-time as a software specialist

and web designer for a major West Coast distribution

company.

Dedication

To my sweetheart, Dot, who remains my greatest source

of confidence and hope.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank Norma and Carmen for their help with

Spanish. Muchas gracias! To Kirsty, thank you for your interest

and support. Devoted readers like you are the reason for being

for writers like me. Much appreciation to Gladys for the practical

and the personal assistance. Thank you, Marianne, for your

continuing friendship and encouragement. I know it isn’t easy

dealing with my ego and its evil twin, my insecurity.

I was delighted to work with Katherine V. Forrest on this

project. Her skill and insight are remarkable. An enjoyable and

productive partnership.

CHAPTER ONE

Matt sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, sunlight

shimmering on his silver hair, looking like a sage from any bygone

culture, but mostly like a Native American shaman. His straight

nose and rounded face hinted at his Quechan heritage, diluted by

several generations into a negligible percentage. Still, if not for

his clothes, this modern man would be indistinguishable from his

distant ancestors. Set against the backdrop of the Arizona desert,

he might be a twenty-first century archaeologist telling a story or

a sixteenth-century medicine man on a vision quest.

“The deer,” he said, continuing his tale, “downed by a single

arrow through its neck, fell on the spot. The man ran up and

stared for a moment at the animal’s wild eye, observing the last

second of its life. The deer acknowledged the hunter with a

1

slow blink, then the glint of life was gone and the black eye saw

nothing.”

Randi sat motionless on her warm slab of granite, listening

to the story.

“The man knelt beside the animal,” Matt said, his voice

assuming the slow cadence of his ancestors. “He said a prayer to

the spirit of the deer, thanking it for giving its life for the man’s

family. Then he lifted it to his shoulders and walked east toward

home.”

Matt opened his eyes and rearranged his legs, glancing at

Randi with a benign smile and a pronounced squint against the

bright sunshine.

“That happened right there,” he said in his regular voice,

pointing to the bottom of the wash.

Randi nodded, suppressing a grin. “You don’t say.”

“Yep, right there where that triangular boulder sits. That

boulder was there then just as it is now, exactly the same. That’s

how I saw it. That’s how he saw it. Nothing has changed in four

hundred years.”

She was used to this. Matt told many such stories, claiming

to be recalling the memories of his ancestors. He didn’t want to

think that all that living was lost. Randi understood the feeling.

Inheriting the memories of all of those who came before was

a much more direct way of remembering the past than trying

to figure it out from artifacts that were left behind. Rock art

and shards of pottery left so many questions unanswered and

so many individuals without faces or voices. He wanted to keep

those people alive somehow. That was the fundamental purpose

of archaeology, after all, at least if you really felt it in your heart,

to bring a dead culture back to life. Randi knew this channeling

of Matt’s was, in his opinion, part of his job.

And how could anybody argue? It wasn’t so unlikely that a

hunter had killed a deer right there at some point in history. It

was even likely, given all of the hunters and all of the deer over

the last several centuries.

2

A noisy crow cawed at them from the branch of a mesquite

tree. Matt turned to look at it.

“You see,” he said, “the crow heralds a new beginning. Change

is coming and we have to take advantage of the opportunities it

brings us. It would be a mistake to ignore that.”

He’s in quite the contemplative frame of mind today, Randi

thought.

“I think the crow is just angry at Breeze,” she said, pointing

to her Doberman who was nosing around in the wash.

It didn’t take a cackling bird to tell Randi that change was

coming. Matt’s retirement papers were more than enough to get

that message across.

“I’m going to stretch my legs a little before we get going,” he

said, standing.

“Okay. I think I’ll just stay here and soak in the view.”

Randi stretched out on her stomach facing Rainbow Wash,

her chin resting on her crossed arms, her hat pushed back off

her forehead. This was one of her favorite spots, named for the

variegated colors of its soil, a small canyon through reddish

conglomerate, carrying its rainy-day runoff west to the Colorado

River. At the moment it was bone dry, as it almost always was.

Yuma, Arizona got only a couple of inches of rain a year, so when

there was water here it was a mere trickle.

Down below, Breeze sniffed methodically from one intriguing

object to the next, taking no notice of the indignant crow. Just

across the wash, on a dirt road, her vehicle was parked, a white

Chevy Tahoe with a Bureau of Land Management insignia on

the side, same as the one on her sleeve, the upside-down triangle

with its snow-covered peak, blue river flowing through a green

valley, dark green pine tree in the foreground. BLM’s national

logo was definitely not a scene from Arizona, but it was someone’s

idea of a natural paradise. Not hers. Randi’s idea of paradise was

the view that lay before her.

It was a perfect January day, clear and mild, with a timid

suggestion of wind. The views were better than usual. On the

western horizon, a meandering ribbon of green marked the

3

course of the Colorado River and the California border. Beyond

that was Picacho Peak, the volcanic neck that anchored Picacho

State Park, and to the north were the Chocolate Mountains.

From here, they looked like bare rock jutting up from the desert

floor. They weren’t really bare, though. There were low-growing,

struggling plants covering those mountains, living at the barest

of subsistence levels, like some of the human desert dwellers that

she’d come to know and respect in the last couple of years.

The desert is deceptive like that, she reflected. At first you

see nothing but a desolate landscape, but the longer you look, the

more you see. Life, including human life, is sparse, but it’s there.

As you watch, the few who live there start to materialize out of the

shimmering heat waves like a mirage. That’s how she had come

to know the small congregation of permanent inhabitants in her

territory, gradually, as they made themselves visible to her.

She glanced at her watch and sighed. Her mood would have

matched the weather if not for the impending arrival of their

visitor, due in an hour. As she turned onto her side, propping her

head up with her hand, she slowly became aware that she was

being watched. When her eyes finally found that other pair of

eyes in a shady alcove only ten feet away, the hair on her neck

stood up and a chill raced through her. Funny how a snake can

make your body turn on all of its defenses—a rush of primordial

fear grips you before you’re even aware of what you’re looking

at. The rattler was coiled in a dark crevice, its head slightly

extended toward her so that its snout was in the sunlight, its

tongue flicking. As if the snake knew exactly when Randi became

aware of it, it now began to sound its chilling warning.

Her body tensed in every muscle as she slowly removed her

right hand from under her head and touched it down to the

rock. Then she carefully pushed herself back along the ledge,

inching away from the snake. Easy, she thought, speaking to both

herself and the snake, reminding herself of the need to make no

sudden moves, as contrary as that was to her impulse to flee.

Her stare held tightly to the snake’s eyes as she increased the

4

distance between them, inching backward until she knew she was

far enough away that a strike was not possible. Then she stood

and scrambled down the side of the outcrop, a little too quickly,

though the danger was past. She dropped down into the wash,

then ran across the gravel bed to the other side, climbing out.

Breeze, thinking they were playing, came running past and

bounded up the bank ahead of her.

Randi leaned against the side of her truck as the tempo of her

heartbeat returned to normal. As she reached through the open

window to grab a pack of gum from the dashboard, she heard the

hollow sound of a voice on the radio. It was Steve, her supervisor.

“Randall, Randall, come in,” he said, his voice impatient.

She left the gum where it was and grabbed the microphone.

“I’m here.”

“I need you back at the office. Dr. Gatlin will be here at one

o’clock.”

“Right. Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

He must think I’m going to bail on him, she thought. Oh,

well, that wouldn’t be totally out of character. Maybe he had

justification for thinking that. Dr. Gatlin, the archaeologist from

California, was here to do a survey of the Black Point petroglyphs.

Randi was still angry over that decision. The best way to protect

such a site was to keep it a secret. Once the world at large got

wind of how well-preserved and extensive the petroglyphs were,

the place would be overrun with rock art tourists, some of whom

would help themselves to a piece of it.

Unfortunately, that had already happened a couple of times,

even as isolated as the site was. That was why, she had been told,

a detailed survey by a qualified scientist was necessary. Even

without publicity, the site was in danger. So, when they had been

contacted by the University of California, the request seemed

like a timely one. More and more people were becoming aware of

Black Point. Randi knew well enough how many times someone

had come into the office asking for directions to the site. It was

becoming a really tricky situation.

“Come on, boy,” Randi said to Breeze, holding the door open

5

for him. “Time to go.” Then she waved to Matt and watched his

stride become more purposeful in response. Matt’s thin, denim-

covered legs carried him smoothly through the rocky streambed

and up onto the road where Randi waited. He was smiling, his

face a web of deep creases, as he held his hand out, palm up, to

show her a small animal skull, bleached, intact except for two

clean holes in the frontal bone where some predator had sunk

its canines.

“Kit fox?” Randi asked.

“That’d be my guess.”

She took the skull gently in her hand and turned it over.

“I thought you could use this for your diorama,” he said.

“Yes. You’re right. Nice addition. Thanks.” She found a rag

behind the seat and wrapped the skull in it. “We need to get back.

Thanks for coming out here with me. Just like old times. I’m

going to miss this.”

Matt smiled a calm, sympathetic smile.

Randi normally came to Rainbow Wash alone, but when she

was in a mood for company in a place like this, there would be

no one she would consider asking other than Matt. He had a

companionable way of blending into the landscape.

Once the three of them were in the truck, Randi eased it

through loose sand and onto a solid, washboard road, heading

toward town.

“You sure you don’t want to come in for this meeting?” she

asked, returning to a topic she had brought up during lunch. She

had hoped to persuade him to come back to the office with her

for the meeting with Dr. Gatlin.

“I’m retired, remember?”

“Not officially. Not until June.”

“Why do you want me there?” Matt threw an arm around

Breeze, who sat on the seat between them, looking content,

tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

“Just to show that we know what we’re doing. I mean, you

know Black Point better than anybody. You could talk about the

rock art in her language, like a pro.”

6

“She’ll want to draw her own conclusions,” Matt said, raising

his voice over the clatter of the truck. “Don’t worry, Randi, I’m

sure she’s qualified.”

“I’m not really worried about that.”

“You’re worried that she’ll think we’re backwater

bumpkins?”

Randi nodded. “Doesn’t it bug you that a stranger is coming

in to do this? I mean, it’s yours. It’s been yours for decades.”

“Never was mine. That site belongs to everybody and nobody.

The Pima think it’s theirs too. The Tohono O’odham, same

thing. Doesn’t belong to anybody. Belongs to history. Besides,

I’m all for anybody who can appreciate it.”

“But she’s going to steal the glory.”

“If I’d wanted glory, I would have done the survey myself

years ago. In a way, I’m a kind of lazy archaeologist. I figure

I’m doing my job just watching them, keeping them safe. It’s

important work, though, to document them. Even if there were

no vandals, time itself would take them from us, eventually. This

is a good thing, Randi, despite how you feel about it.”

Dr. Gatlin may be qualified, Randi thought, in the sense that

she had the credentials, but she couldn’t possibly have Matt’s

spiritual link to the land and the people of the past. In addition

to her spiritual defects, Randi had also assigned her a long list of

physical defects as well, imagining this Dr. Gatlin as an irritating

person with a unibrow, a snorting laugh and a large, hairy mole

somewhere highly visible. There was also a good chance, Randi

was certain, that Dr. Gatlin would address her as “my dear” in a

most condescending tone, like an imperious British dowager.

Once they made it to the paved highway and the outskirts

of town, wild desert gave way to flat sandy tracts choked with

miles and miles of recreational vehicles, hulking white homes on

wheels inhabited by retired Americans and Canadians migrating

for the winter—snowbirds, tens of thousands of them, temporary

residents, all squawking and hopping about in the sunshine like a

flock of ecstatic cranes.

This was the sunniest place on the planet according to

7

local propaganda. In winter, it was a sanctuary for all of these

northerners. In summer, it forced people to seclude themselves

in their air-conditioned refuges for several months. That was

about all she had known about Yuma two years ago, that it was

a parched desert town just north of the Mexican border and just

east of California, a place you drove through on your way to San

Diego or Los Angeles and got out of fast.

Having come from Phoenix, Randi was familiar enough with

the Arizona sun. The heat hadn’t scared her. The idea of a small

town, though small only in summer, hadn’t scared her either.

Starting over had scared her. Being alone in a new place with a

new job, being single and friendless and away from her family,

that had scared her.

It had been the right decision, though, she reflected, to take

the BLM job and move here two years ago. Things had worked

out after all. And Phoenix was only three hours away. Parents

and siblings were there when she wanted them, but not so close

they were breathing down her neck. As for the others, old friends

and ex-lovers, it was better not to be constantly reminded of

embarrassing situations and catastrophic mistakes. Why she

fared so badly in the romance department, Randi couldn’t say.

She seemed to always make wrong choices, hooking up with the

most inappropriate people, as if there were some disaster-seeking

homing device in her brain. That was one of the reasons she had

steered clear of romance altogether since coming here. The other

reason was that she was protecting herself, protecting her fragile

state of tranquility. There was too much at stake to take chances

on maybes. The next time she took a chance on love, it would

have to be a sure thing.

Even if she had no lover in Yuma, Randi was happy. She had

friends. She’d become an integral part of the community. Life

was easy and comfortable. Nobody here knew anything about

her messed up past. She was respected and trusted—owned a

house, for Christ’s sake! She was a pillar of the community. She

liked who she was now and didn’t miss her previous life with its

drama and disappointments, not to mention hangovers and half-

8

remembered midnight sex-capades. She was lucky to have made

it through all of that relatively intact.

Unfortunately, her last relationship had not made it through.

Perhaps the only relationship that had not been a mistake. Irene.

Ultimately, though, that too had ended in disaster. Not Irene’s

fault. Randi easily took all the blame for that. It was Irene, or the

loss of Irene, that had finally driven Randi to quit drinking, to

return to college for her master’s degree, to leave Phoenix and

embark on a new chapter in her story.

“Thanks for the picnic,” Matt said as they approached his

house. “That reminds me. You guys planning on giving me some

kind of retirement party?”

Randi grinned and winked at him. “See you later, Matt.”

“You know I don’t want any fuss. You know that, Randi. You

won’t let them make a fuss, will you?”

“Tell Barb hi for me.”

He shook his head and opened the door, stepping out of the

truck. Breeze moved over to the passenger side of the seat and

hung his head out the window.

“See ya,” Matt said, turning to walk to his front door. Randi

smiled after him, then headed toward her own house.

“Now it’s your turn,” she said to Breeze. She thought, as

she often had, that he was sufficient companionship for now.

They made a good team. She had rescued him from certain

destruction shortly after her arrival in Yuma. He had been an

unpredictable, damaged animal, unsuitable as a pet, a victim

of stupid, irresponsible owners. Against friendly advice, she’d

decided to save him, to attempt it anyway. It had taken awhile,

a lot of work, but it had paid off. He was now well-adjusted and

happy, and the two of them had built a deep mutual trust during

their many hours of training, which would form the basis, Randi

hoped, of their eventual inclusion in the local search and rescue

team. From worthless animal to SAR dog was her goal for Breeze,

and it seemed well within reach at the moment.

Randi identified with Breeze. It seemed like they had both

arrived in this place in the same condition, beaten down and

9

aimless. Together they had realized their potential and become a

success story. She was tremendously proud of that dog and of her

part in his transformation. Her feelings about Breeze paralleled

her feelings about herself. She had rescued herself, too, from the

brink of destruction.

As soon as she dropped him off at home, she was back in the

truck and on her way to the office with barely enough time to

make it by one o’clock. Just as well, she thought. I’m in no hurry

to meet this gatecrasher anyway. Let her wait.

Part of her resentment, she knew, was that Dr. Gatlin

reminded her that Matt would soon be gone. His retirement

would be a transition from one era to the next, and she didn’t see

how it could be a positive one. Whoever replaced him at BLM

could not possibly do justice to the legacy of the past like he had.

This visit from the California archaeologist was the first step

toward that new era where cultural artifacts would be treated as

lifeless bits of clay, stone and bone. They would lose their spirit,

their stories and their life force.

This was an odd way of thinking for a geologist, Randi knew,

since her own field of study involved only inanimate objects and

by its very nature was thoroughly detached from humanity. But

she didn’t see any incompatibility between her science and her

respect for the remarkable accomplishments of the human race.

After all, the human race was living on the planet, had adapted

to thrive on it, and, ultimately, was made of the same stuff as

the lifeless mud, no matter what theory of evolution or creation

you adhered to. Randi liked the idea of that. The soil and the

living stuff on it were mineralogically equivalent. I’m made of

carbon, nitrogen, calcium, sodium and iron, Randi thought with

satisfaction, with a little gold and uranium thrown in, just like the

earth’s crust.

She was in the middle of town now, waiting in a long line of

RVs at a stoplight.

“Damn snowbirds,” she muttered.

The only good thing about the unbearable heat of summer

was that it drove away all of these lightweights. Those left behind

10

were the hardy denizens who called this place home year-round.

Like any other group of people who faced hardship together, the

Yumans, in all of their diversity, came together as a community

with a common foe—heat. Randi had valued this sense of kinship

from the beginning. That spirit of community and goodwill was

one of the most appealing traits of this town. Anywhere you went,

you could be sure of a smile and a friendly greeting. Yes, it really

was like that here.

11

CHAPTER TWO

Kim had misjudged her arrival time. She had hoped to get into

Yuma by eleven, but it was already after noon when she pulled

into town. Driving a full-sized pickup pulling a travel trailer

had turned out to have its challenges. It wasn’t so bad on the

open highway, but now that she was on city streets, the situation

was rapidly deteriorating. Since she had an appointment at the

BLM office at one o’clock, she had decided to forgo parking the

trailer first and drive directly to her meeting, dragging it along

behind her. That had been a mistake. The roads in town were

surprisingly congested and she didn’t know her way around.

Now it was nearly one o’clock and she was stuck in mid-turn

at the entrance road to her destination. To make matters worse,

there was a lunatic in a white pickup behind her laying on the

12

horn. She had waved her arm a couple of times already trying

to get him to go around her on the other side, but the pickup

remained stubbornly behind her.

When she’d borrowed this trailer from her Aunt Jess and

Uncle Paul, it had seemed like the perfect solution for a three-

month stay, but at the moment she wished she’d just rented an

apartment instead. Driving this thing in narrow confines felt like

trying to maneuver a dead whale on a skateboard.

For the third time, she couldn’t make the turn, so she would

have to back up again. Backing up was the problem. Up until now,

she had managed to avoid that, carefully choosing her position

at gas stations and last night’s hotel so that when she was ready

to go, all she had to do was pull forward. Optimistically giving

it another try, she turned the wheel all the way to the right and

backed up a few feet. The white and tan trailer went left into the

curb. So she pulled forward and turned the wheel all the way

to the left instead. This time, as she backed up, the trailer still

went left into the curb. There seemed to be no physical logic to

this contraption. She couldn’t go any further forward since the

squarely-planted BLM sign was on the corner in front of her,

and apparently she couldn’t go backward either. She was stuck.

She wanted to cry. It had been a long, tiring two-day drive from

Sacramento.

The honking behind her stopped. She looked in her side

mirror to see the pickup backing away and parking on the

street.

“Oh, crap!” She threw her hands in the air in exasperation.

“Why don’t you just go around me? There’s plenty of room to

pass. Just go around me and leave me here to die.”

Then it occurred to her that the driver might be so angry

that he was going to yell at her. Or maybe he wanted to help her.

It looked like he was wearing a cowboy hat. Probably some good

ol’ boy with a soft spot for a damsel in distress. As much as Kim

didn’t want to be that damsel, it looked like she was anyway, so,

she reasoned, she may as well let it work for her.

A pair of long, slender legs in tan slacks swung out of the

13

pickup and onto the gravel of the road’s shoulder. Kim, staring

in her side mirror, saw that it was a woman, a tall woman in dark

sunglasses and a light-colored uniform, shirt tucked neatly into

pants and a wide black utility belt around her waist. The cowboy

hat was white with a dark-colored band.

Oh, crap, Kim thought again, abandoning the damsel in

distress plan. Now she knew why the pickup driver had refused

to go around her. She had been trying to get on the road to the

BLM office, which Kim was thoroughly blocking. Yep, that was

it, she concluded, recognizing the triangular shape of the BLM

insignia on the tan shirt sleeve.

As the woman strode leisurely up to the window on a pair of

brown cowboy boots, Kim shifted her gaze from the mirror image

to the real thing. The ranger was about her own age, shapely,

with a significant tan, feminine mouth and relaxed features, her

eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. As Kim turned to face

her, the frown on the ranger’s face softened into a look of mild

surprise. The name tag on her shirt read “C. Randall.”

The ranger stood silently observing her for a moment, then

said, “Having a little trouble?”

Duh! thought Kim. But she spoke calmly and said, “Yes. I

seem to be stuck here.”

“You’re lost, are you?”

“No, not lost. Just stuck. I’m trying to get down this road.”

“Really?” The ranger looked down the road as if she thought

she would see something unexpected, revealing to Kim that

her dark brown hair was knotted into a single braid that rested

between her shoulder blades. The ranger turned back. “There’s

nothing down there but the BLM office.”

“Yes, I know. That’s where I’m going.”

“Oh?” The ranger removed her sunglasses, exposing placid

brown eyes that stared directly into Kim’s. “In that case, is it

possible that you’re Dr. Gatlin?”

Kim was momentarily surprised, but quickly realized that

everybody in the office would be aware of her arrival. “Yes, I am.”

The ranger’s eyes widened slightly. Whatever she was

14

expecting, Kim thought, I’m not it. But her look of surprise faded

quickly. “I’m Randi, the district geologist here.”

Randi, thought Kim, making a silent, juvenile joke to herself.

Randi offered her hand and Kim shook it through the open

window. She’s cute, Kim thought, much more appealing than

most of the geologists she had met, usually men in shabby field

clothes with ridiculously unkempt beards.

“I think I can help you out with this rig,” Randi said.

She had an air of confidence that persuaded Kim to let her try.

“Oh, that would be great if you could.” Kim slid over and let

Randi take the driver’s seat. After all, she wasn’t getting anywhere

on her own.

Randi took a commanding hold on the steering wheel and

turned sharply to the right to avoid hitting the BLM sign,

missing it by no more than an inch, while Kim’s right foot pressed

involuntarily and firmly against the floor. Randi pulled forward

into the main road, going far enough to straighten out the truck

and trailer. She then began backing up slowly, keeping the trailer

straight behind them, until they had backed up beyond the side

road. She did all of this without a word. She then put the vehicle

into drive and turned in, coasting up to the office parking lot.

“I’m going to park right here,” she said, “so you can just head

out forward when you leave.”

Kim laughed. “That’s been my strategy so far.”

They both hopped out of the cab. Kim put on her hat and

slung her bag over her shoulder. “Thanks so much for that,” she

told Randi.

Randi shrugged. “Sorry about the honking. I thought you

were a snowbird. By this time of year, I’m pretty much fed up

with them. Maybe you are a snowbird of sorts, aren’t you? Down

for the winter. Definitely drive like a snowbird. Got your Tilley

hat there. Snowbirds have those.”

Randi laughed, derisively, Kim thought. What’s she getting

at? What the hell is so funny about a Tilley hat? It’s a perfectly

appropriate, stylish piece of gear for working in the field.

“Are you planning on parking that trailer somewhere,” Randi

15

asked, “or are you just going to drive around like that the whole

time you’re here?”

“I have a space reserved. I just didn’t have time to go there

first. I have a meeting at one o’clock with—”

“Steve,” Randi said. “Yeah, I know. I’m supposed to be there

too. Wait here while I get my truck and I’ll walk you inside.”

Kim wondered briefly why a geologist was going to be at her

meeting. She watched Randi walk rapidly back down to the road,

her gait throwing powerful signals at Kim’s gaydar. At least I’ll

have somebody nice to look at during the meeting, she thought.

Too bad I made such an ass of myself right off the bat. Oh, well,

the damsel-in-distress ploy had worked, after all.

Kim looked around at the building, the demonstration

garden of native plants and the brown hills beyond. This was

a nice spot. The town itself, she wasn’t so sure of. Her first

impression of Yuma, Arizona was that it was dusty and a little

sad looking. In some ways, it looked like she’d left the United

States altogether and had arrived in a third-world country. She

realized, driving through town, that she had imagined a place

where John Wayne might have sat on a porch with his feet on

the railing and his horse tethered nearby. Something quaint.

A charming old western throwback with wooden sidewalks, a

general store, a saloon with swinging doors. Instead, there was a

general impression of brownness. A miserable place to live, she

imagined. But it was only for a few months and she was sure she

could enjoy herself during that time, especially with the exciting

prospect of the Black Point petroglyphs to occupy her.

The extensive Hohokam etchings, from what little she’d

heard and seen, were remarkable, in pristine condition and

essentially undocumented. They had been alluded to in scientific

articles and there were isolated published photos, but no one

had studied them in depth and no one had done a formal survey.

This was just what she needed to precipitate her elevation to full

professorship.

She was grateful to Dr. Braddock for securing the project and

making all the arrangements for her. All she had to do was show

16

up and get to work. And meet with the rock art stewards—BLM

and the local Native American tribe—and allay their fears about

her qualifications and intentions.

This was not her first fieldwork experience by any means, but

for the last several years, she had been more focused on teaching,

and had almost no time to be out in the field anymore. Before

taking the faculty position at UC Davis, she had had many more

opportunities to get her hands dirty. But the Arizona desert wasn’t

new. She had worked in the Phoenix area before, where the major

Hohokam settlements like Snaketown with their elaborate canal

systems were based. But she had never been to Yuma, had never

even been through it. The Hohokam cultural centers did not

extend this far west, but their trade routes did. This site marked

a major intersection along the route to the Pacific Coast to the

west and the Gulf of California to the south.

Randi parked in front of the building and walked over to

Kim. “We’re five minutes late,” she said.

Kim followed her inside where she removed her sunglasses

again, hooking them on her front pocket, then on to the district

manager’s office.

Steve McCall was a big man with a warm, outgoing manner,

sandy, graying hair and a thick gray mustache. He shook her

hand firmly, saying, “Oh, so you’ve already met Randi. She’ll be

taking you out to the site tomorrow. She knows that area better

than anybody. Out there all the time inspecting mines.”

“Oh?” Kim said. “I thought I’d be working with your

archaeologist. Don’t you have one on staff?”

Steve nodded. “More or less. Less, actually. That would be

Matt. He’s on sick leave pending retirement, but he’s still on the

payroll, so we’re a little short-staffed.”

“So he’s ill, then?”

“He’ll be okay. Had a triple bypass last month and decided it

was time to pack it in. He wanted to put in his thirty-five years,

though, so he’s on sick leave until June. When he’s officially

retired, I’ll be able to hire somebody to replace him. Hey, you

interested?”

17

Kim smiled, then noticed with confusion the sudden look of

horror on Randi’s face. “No,” she said flatly, thinking that it must

be hard to get a qualified scientist to work in a place like this year

round.

“Didn’t think so.” Steve chuckled. “It’s not going to be just

you, I hope, out there. Not really a good idea to be out there alone.”

Kim shook her head. “My department chair arranged for a

student from your school, the junior college—sorry, I forgot its

name.”

“AWC,” Randi said.

“Oh, right, Arizona Western College. We asked for a

recommendation from the science department. They were able

to get a student to assist me in exchange for college credit.”

Too bad she wasn’t going to be working with another

archaeologist, Kim thought. She reminded herself that she

needed to call that student as soon as she got settled into the RV

park.“That’s good,” Steve said. “Let’s get started.” He motioned

toward the door. “The rep from the reservation is waiting for us.”

Kim was prepared for the concerns of the local Pima tribe.

She knew the value of the artifacts. She was being allowed this

intimate access with the understanding that it was a privilege

being granted to her by the spirits of the ancestors. Everyone

agreed on the need to document the petroglyphs, even though

they were concerned about publicity and about the touchy

problem of public access.

“Eventually,” explained Steve, “we’re going to open the site

up to the public. We don’t see how to avoid that. But as soon as

people start visiting in numbers, there will be a greater chance of

graffiti and vandalism.” He frowned, his gray mustache turning

up at either end. “That’s just the way it is. You take the good with

the bad. I just hope we never have to put it behind a chain-link

fence. That just destroys the feeling of a place, you know.”

Kim nodded. “That would be a shame.”

The meeting was routine. Kim had correctly anticipated the

questions about her methods, motives and the future of the sites,

18

as well as her rights as an agent of the University of California

to the information she would be taking away. The rules and the

plan for this project had already been laid out prior to her arrival

by Sam Braddock, her division chair, so this meeting was really

just to meet Kim and give everybody a warm and fuzzy. She did

her best to seem confident and businesslike, to show them that

she took this project seriously and that she was well qualified for

the job.

Kim noticed that Randi remained silent throughout the

meeting, slumped down in her chair, looking bored and eyeing

Kim with an unfriendly gaze. If it wasn’t for Steve’s jovial warmth,

Kim would have thought she wasn’t welcome here.

After the meeting, she was introduced to the rest of the staff,

a few other scientists and some clerical personnel. The office

was larger than she had expected, but when Steve showed her a

color-coded map outlining the extent of BLM land in southwest

Arizona, she understood why. Their range was vast.

With business done, she stood in the public reception area

just inside the main doors with Randi and Steve, preparing to

leave.

“You’ll be wanting to get out to the site tomorrow, right?”

Steve asked.

“Yes, I’m anxious to get started.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s rarin’ to go,” Randi said. “Got her Tilley hat

and everything.”

Randi pointed to the hat in Kim’s hand, grinning. Kim still

didn’t get the joke, but she knew she was being mocked.

“And your hat,” she said to Randi, nodding toward the cowboy

hat. “Is that part of the BLM uniform around these parts or do

you wear it just because you think it makes you look cool?”

Steve coughed nervously at that, suggesting he didn’t condone

Randi’s deviation from the official uniform.

Randi snorted and looked at Kim with a sideways glance,

standing with her thumbs hooked over her front pockets. Kim

wouldn’t have been surprised if Randi had spit a wad of tobacco

on the floor.

19

Then she noticed a long, glassed-in diorama at the end of

the room. It was a scene of Sonoran desert life, dominated by a

saguaro and a palo verde tree. From this vantage point, she could

see a stuffed coyote looking her way.

“Randi,” said Steve, apparently noticing Kim’s distraction with

the diorama, “why don’t you show Kim your project there.”

Randi looked reluctant, but then shrugged and walked over

to the case. Kim assumed she was supposed to follow. With a

closer view, she saw that the saguaro had two occupied bird nests

in it. The soil in the scene looked like real sand and gravel. The

boulders looked real also. Not surprising with a geologist in

charge, Kim thought. Toward the back was a pile of rocks with a

dark hole in the center, a cave or mine entrance. Several species

of cacti were scattered throughout. There was also a desert

rat, a dozen or so birds, a tortoise and some lizards. One flat-

sided boulder had a series of petroglyphs etched into it, three

quadrupeds and an anthromorph holding an atlatl.

“Nice,” Kim said. “Very authentic looking.”

“Everything’s real,” Randi said.

“I hope the petroglyphs aren’t real!”

The barest hint of a smile played across Randi’s lips. “No, but

the rock is. It’s granite. Granodiorite, actually.”

Why do geologists always think the type of rock is relevant

to any discussion? Kim wondered.

“Did you do all of this yourself?” she asked.

“No. This is a fifth grade class project. I’m just supervising

and giving them some guidance. The kids carved the rock art.

Looks pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“Looks great.”

“We’re thinking of putting in a few more Indian artifacts

and some mining equipment, something to represent the human

impact on the land. Maybe a pick ax, old carbide lantern, that sort

of thing.”

For just a moment Randi looked happy, as if she had

forgotten just then that she was speaking to someone she didn’t

like, for it had become obvious to Kim in the hour and a half that

20

she’d been here that Randi had something against her. Smiling

and distracted by her work, though, she looked animated and

extremely attractive.

“Sounds like a fun project,” Kim said, then turned back to

Steve. “I guess I’d better get going.”

“Do you think you’ll need any help getting to your RV

park?” Randi asked.

“No, I think I’ll be okay now. Thanks. But maybe you can

suggest some place for dinner.”

“Depends,” Randi said, “if you want something California-

style or want to eat like the locals. We have great Mexican food,

if you like that.”

“Love it,” Kim replied.

“And there’s Dolly’s. That’s where a lot of us go.”

“Okay. How about Dolly’s, then?”

Randi nodded, took a pen and paper from the counter and

began rapidly sketching a map. Kim glanced at it, seeing that

it was neatly drawn with an arrow at the bottom right corner

labeled “North.” Now that was funny.

“There you go,” Randi said. “Easy enough to find, if you can

make your way through the snowbirds. I’ll see you here tomorrow

morning, then, eight o’clock sharp.” She walked off.

That didn’t go very well, Kim thought. Steve, apparently

reading her mind said, “Randi’s a great gal. Takes a bit of getting

used to, but she’s good people. You’ll like her.”

It doesn’t really matter, Kim thought, if I like her or not. As

soon as the work started, there would be no reason to interact

with her anyway. She to her rocks, me to my glyphs, and never

the twain shall meet.

21

CHAPTER THREE

Kim made her way without mishap to the RV park,

maneuvering through the congested streets under a clear blue

sky. It was a gorgeous day with views for miles in all directions.

The thin winter sunlight cast violet shadows across the

barren mountains east of town. The temperature was perfect,

somewhere in the seventies, a remarkably fine day for January. It

was no wonder so many people came down here for the winter.

When she had left Sacramento yesterday, it had been cold and

foggy, and had remained so throughout her drive south through

California’s central valley. When she left Bakersfield, heading

east, the weather had improved, the landscape changing radically

from fruit orchards to bare rock, desert scrub and those engaging

Joshua trees that she loved. There were none of those here.

22

She had passed through the Mojave Desert and was now in the

transition zone between the Mojave and Sonoran.

After Kim got the trailer parked and hooked up to the power

supply and had done some preliminary settling in, she called the

student who would assist her on this project.

A woman answered with “Hola.”

“Could I speak to Ramon?” Kim asked.

The woman said something in Spanish, speaking very

rapidly.

“Ramon, por favor,” Kim said, using most of the Spanish she

knew.

“Okay, okay,” replied the woman.

In a moment, a youthful sounding man was on the phone.

After Kim introduced herself, he apologized for not answering

the phone himself. “That was my mother,” he said. “She doesn’t

speak English.”

“Yes, of course,” Kim said. “I just wanted to let you know that

I’ve arrived and I’ve already met with BLM. We’re going out to

the site tomorrow morning. Will you be ready to start?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Good. We’ll have a chance to talk more tomorrow, then. I

think I have everything we need, in terms of equipment. You’ll

just want to bring your lunch, since I understand this place is not

really near anything.”

Kim told Ramon she’d pick him up at seven thirty the next

morning. He sounded enthusiastic and a little shy, she thought.

She decided not to go out for dinner after all. She had hoped,

when she’d asked for a dinner recommendation, that Randi

would offer to show her around town a little, not send her off on

her own with a hand-drawn map. Staying in for the evening was

actually okay, though. She was still tired from the trip and there

were things to do to get ready for the field, such as charging

her camera, GPS receiver and phone batteries, some last-minute

reading and some household organizing.

That Randi was really unpleasant, Kim thought, hanging her

Tilley hat on a peg near the door and remembering her disdainful

23

sneer. Her attitude seemed resentful, which, since they had only

just met, Kim knew she shouldn’t take personally. Maybe she was

just naturally surly. But she did have very kissable lips. A stupid

thing to think, she chided herself, even if Randi was giving off a

definite lesbian vibe.

She settled on a can of soup for dinner. Despite her earlier

problem with it, this little trailer was exactly the right thing to

bring on this trip. It was self-contained and economical and she

had everything she needed at her fingertips. She could stand in

front of the tiny stove and hardly have to move to get a spoon,

bowl and napkin for her meal. She had a kitchen, a tiny bathroom

with shower, two narrow beds, one of which could be left made

up as a sofa, and a little table to work and eat on. She’d brought

her music, some books and her laptop computer, which could

serve as a DVD player. She had everything a modern woman

needed to live comfortably, in a compact mode.

Life wasn’t much different back home. Her condo was much

larger, of course, and nicer, not quite stripped down to bare

essentials, but it was utterly practical in its design, a pragmatist’s

living space. She wasn’t much of a cook or entertainer, so she

devoted most of her attention to her work spaces instead.

Working was her delight and her refuge. She’d been working

steadily for quite a while now, working almost to the exclusion of

a personal life.

There was her family, of course. Her younger brother Jackson

was using her condo rent-free while she was gone, a perfect

solution to her absence and his needy circumstances. At twenty-

six, he seemed to be just drifting, a college dropout, his approach

to life very different from his older sister. But they were close.

They were one another’s confidantes, and he had been the first

person in her family she had come out to, some nine years ago

now, when she was twenty-two and in love with Julie, the first

time she’d given away her heart.

With the thought of Julie, Kim sighed. Nothing like that first

love. Her only serious relationship, though. Once they had split

up, after five years, she had rarely dated, had focused instead on

24

getting her doctorate and positioning herself for future success.

The truth was that it had been easier to devote the time

and energy to her career without someone waiting at home for

her. The last few years had been intense. There really had been

no time for a relationship. She hadn’t even allowed herself the

companionship of a dog or cat, opting instead for a few tropical

fish that made almost no demands on her time.

Kim taped up photos of her niece and nephews on the trailer’s

mini-refrigerator, her sister Suzie’s kids. She liked having their

cheerful faces grinning at her, Delaney’s toothless smile not a bit

self-conscious, and the twins looking identical, except that Jaden

was dressed, as always, in blue, and Justin in green.

Other than her family, there was no one important in her life

right now. She thought of Trish, the art teacher who had recently

become her friend. It was possible that something would come of

that, later, after her return. Trish was fun to hang out with. They

had some things in common. Obviously, they were both teachers

at the same school, and art and archaeology were compatible

interests. Yes, perhaps that would develop into something

someday, but, if it didn’t, that was okay too. It was always nice to

have friends among your colleagues.

Maybe, Kim thought, after I make full professor, I can relax

for a while and cultivate more of a personal life, get a girl and a

house, and roll out of bed on Sunday morning after a romantic

Saturday night to a fresh pot of coffee and French toast with real

maple syrup. Whoever she is, Kim thought, I hope she’s a good

cook.

Once her laptop was online, she sat down to check her e-

mail. She had a note from her brother Jackson asking if she had

arrived safely and assuring her that he had not yet destroyed

all the contents of her condo. “Give me a little more time,” he

warned. “Not even a dead fish yet.”

Kim smiled, thinking of her tropical fish tank. She had sort

of brought that with her, though, because Jackson had filmed

her fish swimming to and fro for fifteen minutes, then created a

screen saver out of the film for her laptop. She would get used to

25

it, she knew, but for the time being, it was startling to see her own

fish swimming about on her computer screen.

After answering Jack, she opened an e-mail from her

department chairman, Sam Braddock. As soon as you’ve been out to

the site and have something to share, send me some pics. Am anxiously

awaiting first views and first impressions. Meanwhile, see enclosed

photo of our Mimbres bowl, well on its way to being whole again. As we

guessed, there’s an image of a frog in the center and no kill hole.

Kim opened the attached photo to view a close-up of a

shallow black-on-white bowl, partially reconstructed from

dozens of pieces. The black had faded to a yellowish brown now,

as expected after a thousand years. In the center of the bowl was

an easily recognizable frog, stylized, beautifully rendered in a way

typical of the Mogollon people. As Sam said, there was no “kill

hole.” That was rare. Most of the Mimbres pots were uncovered

in burial sites where they had been placed with a body. The burial

ritual included punching a hole through the center of the vessel to

allow its spirit to escape. Pottery, like everything in that culture,

was more than just an object. It contained something living, some

remnant of its maker, as though the clay were infused with his or

her life force. This bowl had been recovered from a site in New

Mexico where an ongoing excavation was being supervised by

Sam. He took a new group of students there each summer.

That was the true appeal of being an archaeology student—

the fieldwork, which could be tedious, even boring, invariably

hot and disappointing. But it was the essence of the science,

and, for a few of the students, it became a real passion as they

sifted through soil for fragments of pottery, bone, wood, stone

or anything testifying to the presence of humans. Kim, despite

the canned beans, lack of showers and perpetual taste of dirt, had

loved the fieldwork. The camaraderie on site was something you

could never get on a campus or in a lab.

Kim saved the Mimbres bowl photo to her hard drive. She

had not participated in this dig, but she had been following it.

This frog bowl was an excellent find. Mimbres pottery from the

early period was rare, prized by archaeologists and pothunters

26

alike, “pothunters” being the polite name given to privateers who

ransacked archaeological sites in search of artifacts. For the most

part, collecting was becoming harder and harder to do legally.

Gorgeous, she typed back to Sam. Looks like you managed to find

all of the pieces too. Your students must be thrilled. I’ll be on my way out

for my first look at the site tomorrow morning. Will be in touch.

27

CHAPTER FOUR

When Randi got home from work, she had a message from

Alma Mendoza, calling her from The Oasis bar. Her speech was

slurred. Randi listened with disappointment as Alma asked Randi

to come get her. The message was only ten minutes old. While

she was listening to it, her cell phone rang. She answered to a

similar message, Alma in person this time.

“Just stay where you are,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”

She got back in her truck and drove into town. The Oasis

wasn’t a bar Randi patronized, but it was the type of dive that she

knew well from her younger days. It was dark and cramped. As

soon as she passed through the door, she felt uneasy and oddly

like she had gone through a time tunnel into the past. Some

rough-looking men at the bar glanced at her as she stepped

28

inside. Besides the bar stools, there were only three tables for

seating. Alma was sitting at one of them, a glass in front of her,

empty except for two melting ice cubes. She was dressed in her

work clothes—cotton pants and a long-sleeved shirt, a red paisley

bandana hanging like a three-sided curtain from under her straw

hat. She looked up as Randi approached and recognized her with

a sheepish smile, then looked back down, obscuring her face with

the brim of her hat.

Alma was about fifty, but looked older. Booze and the desert

sun had taken a toll on her. She was a field worker, mostly lettuce,

and today was payday.

“Buenas tardes,” Randi said cheerfully, carefully avoiding any

sound of disapproval. “Need a ride home?”

Alma nodded, keeping her head down and refusing to meet

Randi’s eyes. She stood, then followed Randi unsteadily outside

and took her place in the passenger seat of Randi’s truck. This

was the third time Randi had come for her. Alma never called

her before she drank, to be talked out of it. She just called when

she had had enough. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work.

Randi couldn’t deal too harshly with her, though, considering all

the grief she had given to her own sponsor, years ago, the first

time she had gone to AA.

It hadn’t been her idea to go. That was why she’d been

uncooperative. Between the pressure from Irene and the judge,

though, she was compelled to do it. She’d been sentenced to

ninety meetings in ninety days. At the time, that had seemed

like an unduly harsh punishment. She had grumbled about it the

whole time. She even resumed drinking and showed up a couple

of times at the meeting with a serious buzz on. When the ninety

days were up and her sentence was satisfied, she quit going to the

meetings altogether.

Randi hadn’t taken the problem seriously, then. She hadn’t

taken Irene seriously either. She didn’t believe she would leave.

She thought the threats were hollow. But the second time Irene

came to the police station to bail her out, Randi learned that her

second chances were over. After taking her to the doctor to have

29

her broken nose tended to, Irene packed up and left. Just left

without a word. A week later her brother showed up to take her

furniture, and the best thing that had ever happened to Randi

was gone, just like that.

Her response to losing Irene was to get shit-faced, of course,

but after a couple of months, that wasn’t really working. So she

quit drinking and quit making excuses. She was as surprised as

anyone to see how much she changed. At first, it was to prove

something to Irene, to get her to come back. But even after it was

clear that wasn’t going to happen, she stuck to her new course

because it felt so much better. She felt better, physically and

mentally. She began to think about her future.

One of the things Irene had said to her before she left had

stuck with Randi, echoing in her head. “What if I need you, really

need you for something?” she had asked. “What if I have a heart

attack and you’re the only person there? What if I fall down the

stairs and need somebody to take me to the hospital? I can’t rely

on you.”

That had made a lasting impression because Randi had

always thought of herself as somebody you could count on in

a pinch. That was who she was when she was sober, which, in

those days, had not been often. Irene’s words had also touched

on Randi’s greatest fear, that her drinking would lead to some

disaster, to someone else getting hurt—or worse. This was her

recurring nightmare, even now, even after four years of sobriety.

At least twice a month she would wake up in a cold sweat, feeling

a crushing sense of guilt and grief because in her dream she had

been drinking and had let someone down. Someone she cared

about—her mother or father, her sister or Irene—lay bleeding to

death or was hit by a bus because she was passed out or too drunk

to move fast enough or think clearly enough. The sensation of

failure lingered long after waking, sometimes for hours. She knew,

from listening to others at AA meetings, that breaking sobriety

was a common nightmare. And like the others, when she woke,

she had a hard time getting over the feeling that she actually had

been drinking.

30

Even before she had quit, she had often felt sickened and

disappointed with herself. She imagined Alma felt something

similar, although Alma wasn’t a talker, so the only clue Randi had

to her state of mind was the shame on her face. At least she wasn’t

a combative drunk. She was silent, resigned, even depressed,

which in some ways was harder to see.

They drove to Alma’s apartment house where Randi helped

her up the stairs to her place, a sparsely-furnished studio with

dark, heavy curtains over the windows. The air inside was stale.

Randi opened the front curtains and a window. Alma blinked as

the room filled with the light from the setting sun. Then she sat

on her sofa, hunched, with her hands hanging limp between her

knees.

Randi stood in front of her and said, “Rent’s due.”

Alma reached into a pocket and pulled out a wad of cash,

handing it over. Randi counted it.

“Where’s the rest?” she asked.

“Had a nice meal,” Alma said, shrugging. “Bought a few

rounds for my amigos.”

Randi knew this was all the money she had, that there was

no bank account, and that Alma’s wages were being garnished

already for a long-standing debt. Randi reached into her own

pocket and counted out sixty dollars, then gave a twenty back to

Alma and put the rest of the money into an envelope. She sealed

it and wrote the apartment number on the outside.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow after work, at six,” she told Alma

firmly. “We’ll go to a meeting.”

She nodded, looking like a guilty child. “Gracias,” she said,

still avoiding Randi’s eyes.

Randi laid a hand on Alma’s shoulder lightly and said, “Get a

good night’s sleep.”

Then she went downstairs and stuck the envelope through

a slot in the manager’s door, thinking that she could get Alma a

couple of odd jobs later in the week. When she was sober, she was

a hard worker. But she was getting older. Randi wondered what

she would do when her health let her down, when she couldn’t

31

do field work anymore. Alma had a couple of kids somewhere.

Maybe one of them would step up.

When Randi was home at last and settled in with Breeze

curled up on the sofa beside her, she ate a microwave dinner in

front of the television. Although she was a reasonably good cook,

it was too late to start anything and it was hard to get excited

about cooking for herself anyway. The show she turned on didn’t

hold her interest and she found her thoughts drifting, mostly in

the direction of that pretty Dr. Gatlin. Randi’s original idea that

she would turn out to be some sort of old hag had been way off

the mark. She was about thirty, with perceptive eyes and a shrewd

smile. Randi liked her hair. Short, straight and dark brown, it was

thin and pixie-ish. She had a funny way of squinting a little when

she looked at you which made her nose turn up.

Regardless of her appealing looks, though, Randi’s first

impression of Kim Gatlin was that she was stuck-up. She had

an attitude. Obviously thought she was superior. Thought she

knew it all already. Every time anybody said anything to her at

the meeting today, she was all, “Of course! Absolutely. You can

be certain of it.” And never made a single joke or even laughed

during the whole thing. No sense of humor. Well, there was that

crack about Randi’s hat, after the meeting. That wasn’t particularly

funny, though Randi had to admit she had that coming after

making fun of the Tilley hat.

Randi had also noticed that Dr. Gatlin wore no wedding

ring, but she was probably some guy’s trophy girl, some big shot,

university president or something. Used to being treated well,

living a cushy kind of life.

Randi chuckled to herself imagining that city girl at odds with

the hazards of the desert. The first time she sees a snake, Randi

thought, she’s going to scream to high heaven and get herself bit.

She’s going to die out there. Oh, well, she wouldn’t be the first

person to die out there.

Randi smiled to herself and gave Breeze a tight hug.

32

CHAPTER FIVE

Kim slept well, even though the narrow bed wasn’t all that

comfortable. In the morning she ate a bowl of cereal, then

threw her supplies in the truck and headed across town to pick

up Ramon. His parents lived on the west side of town where

unpretentious houses seemed to have placed themselves in

a haphazard arrangement. They weren’t lined up in a row, all

equidistant from the street like the residential areas Kim was

familiar with. None of the houses had lawns, just bare ground,

and there was a goat tethered in the front yard of the house next

to Ramon’s.

As soon as she pulled up, he came running out wearing a

classy straw hat and carrying a backpack. Ramon was a slender

young man, about twenty, with beautiful eyes and a thin, sparse

mustache.

33

Grinning excitedly, he climbed in, saying, “Morning, Dr.

Gatlin,” and reached for her hand.

She smiled. “You can call me Kim, Ramon, since we’re going

to be colleagues on this project. But I’m still the boss.”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am!”

“We’re meeting a geologist,” she explained, “who’s going to

take us out to the site.”

“It’s really something,” he said, “that I never knew about this

place. Here it was right in my own backyard.”

“These will be similar to the South Mountain petroglyphs.

At least, that’s what I’m expecting. Do you know anything about

those?”

“I’ve seen pictures.”

“What’s really interesting about this site is that it lies on the

extreme western edge of Hohokam territory, overlapping into

the Patayan cultural area. I won’t be surprised if we see some of

each.”

“This is so cool! I really want to thank you for letting me

work on this, Kim.”

As he said her name, he looked a little bashful. Her first

impression was that she was going to get along with him just

fine. When they got to the office, Randi was standing in the break

room with a travel mug of coffee, talking to a colleague. It was

Colin, the wildlife biologist, Kim remembered from her earlier

introductions.

“Why do they call them pupfish, anyway?” Randi asked. “Do

they come when you call them?”

Colin chuckled, then said, “Characteristics of their behavior.

They act playful like a puppy, from a human perspective.”

“Hey, Tilley,” Randi called as she noticed Kim approaching.

Annoyed by the reference to her hat, Kim gave her a cool

“Good morning.”

“Hi, Randi,” Ramon said.

“Oh, hi, Ramon. So you’re the student working with Dr.

Gatlin?”

34

“Uh-huh. Mr. Dalton set this up for me.”

Kim was surprised and a little annoyed that Randi and Ramon

knew one another. How small a town was this anyway?

“She’s lucky to have you,” Randi said, slapping Ramon on the

back. “You’re lucky to have him,” she then said to Kim. “He’s a

good kid. Works hard. And he’s smart.”

Ramon looked embarrassed.

Randi gave them a handheld radio and instructed Kim to

follow her and use the radio if they got separated.

“It will take us about an hour to get there,” Randi said.

“Ready?”

Kim nodded. They were soon on the road, heading out of

town, the BLM truck in the lead.

“So how do you know her?” Kim asked Ramon, motioning

vaguely in the direction of the BLM truck.

“She was my teacher last semester.”

“Your teacher? What do you mean?”

“I took physical geology from her at AWC.”

Kim glanced over at him, trying to fit these various pieces

together. “She teaches at AWC?”

“Yeah. It was a night class. I think she just teaches one class

a semester.”

“I see. So you took geology as part of your requirement for

an archaeology major. You’re thinking ahead. That’s great to use

that as one of your general ed science courses because geology

will be a requirement for the archaeology degree, eventually.”

“Oh, no, I’m not an archaeology major.”

“No? What, then?”

“Environmental technology. It’s a two-year program. When

I get my associate’s degree, I’ll be done. I’m going to work in

natural resource management, you know. Physical geology is a

requirement for the two-year degree.”

“Oh,” Kim said, surprised. “You’re not a transfer student?”

“No. I’m hoping to get on with the city as an environmental

technician.”

“What exactly is that?”

35

“A guy who collects data or does inspections. Like inspects

underground storage tanks at gas stations and stuff to make sure

they aren’t leaking and contaminating the soil.”

Kim nodded.

“Are you disappointed?” Ramon asked uncertainly.

“No, no, not disappointed. I’m just surprised. I thought

they were going to give me someone in archaeology or at least a

related science.”

“I’ve taken a lot of science classes. Archaeology too. I love

it. I’m very good in physical sciences. Always have been. And

archaeology is my favorite. Really. I begged Mr. Dalton for this

assignment.”

“Then why not major in it?”

“It would take so long. This way I can be out in the job market

fast. And it’s more practical.”

“Don’t like school?” Kim asked.

He looked up, his eyes wide. “I love school. I really had to

beg my parents to let me go to the junior college. It’s not easy for

them. But I have a part-time job. And I’ve arranged my hours so

I can work with you during the day and still put in a few hours at

work in the evenings and weekends. I wanted to do this so much

that I’m doing this instead of classes. I was only able to take two

classes this semester, both at night. The other nights I work at

Dolly’s.”

“The restaurant?”

“Right. You know it?”

“I’ve heard about it.”

For the first time it occurred to Kim that this unpaid job

Ramon had volunteered for might have created a real hardship

for him.

“Are your parents okay with you working with me?” she asked.

“They don’t really understand it. Working for no pay, I mean.

But I told them I wouldn’t give up my other job. I can do both.”

His voice was firm, as if he had made this argument before.

Once they left the freeway, they shut the windows to keep

out the dust. Randi was driving too fast for the rough dirt road,

36

but Kim decided against telling her so. She could no longer see

Randi’s truck, just her dust cloud. Since nobody else was on this

road, it didn’t matter. There was no problem following. Ramon

sat with a topo map open on his lap, tracing their route with a

neon orange highlighter.

“Right over there is the Gila River,” he announced, pointing

north.

“Is it a big river?”

“It used to be, before all the dams were built. Now, it’s like a

little creek, and usually there’s no water in it at all. When the gold

miners were traveling to California, the Forty-Niners, it was a

dangerous river to cross. That’s why Yuma was originally named

Yuma Crossing. Everyone who was trying to get to California in

the 1850s would travel this way, like we’re doing now, parallel to

the Gila River. The Colorado and the Gila meet here in Yuma.

So if they crossed the river here, they only had to cross one river

instead of two.”

“Is this even a road?” Kim asked after turning left to follow

Randi’s dust cloud.

“Yes. A lot of roads are like this out here.”

The landscape was flat, mainly barren, with some scrubby

looking plants scattered about. There was no sign of human

habitation, no houses, no cars, no telephone poles. Occasionally,

a jack rabbit would dart away from the road, startled into flight

by the vehicles.

After a few miles, they passed an old homestead, marked now

by a collapse of timber and a rusted automobile frame. It might

have been an old station wagon, the kind they made back in the

Sixties. Kim wondered if that relic had been sitting out here ever

since.

“How are you doing back there,” came Randi’s voice on the

radio.

Ramon answered. “A-okay.”

“I’m going to turn right up here and drive through a wash,

so I’ll wait for you. You’ll want to follow my tire tracks pretty

closely to keep out of the deep sand.”

37

As the dust settled up ahead, Kim saw that Randi had indeed

stopped and was waiting for them. When they arrived, Randi

drove ahead slowly through a dry waterway and onto the other

side without mishap. Kim did the same, avoiding several large

boulders.

“Almost there,” Randi said over the radio.

The landscape had become less monotonous now, undulating

gently. They were also encountering more vegetation—cholla,

barrel cactus and ocotillo. They all looked pretty lifeless at the

moment. Kim knew, though, that within a month, by February,

all of this would change as the desert burst forth in its springtime

exultation. That was definitely something to look forward to.

The “road” took them over a shallow ridge, after which Randi

parked and got out of her truck, sliding her cowboy hat onto her

head. Kim parked behind her.

Randi pointed south to a dark outcrop about a quarter mile

away. “That’s it. It’s part of a lava flow that originated about a

mile to the south. The basalt overlies some older granite. We’re

on foot the rest of the way.”

Kim and Ramon put on their hats and followed Randi, who

walked rapidly, her braid swinging back and forth below her

hat. “That weathered basalt makes a nice, smooth surface,” she

explained, not turning to look at them. “Makes a good canvas

for the glyphs. See how all the rocks around here look black?

Covered with desert varnish. That’s a coating of manganese

oxide. If you break one of those black rocks open, you’ll find that

it’s light colored on the inside, on the unweathered surface.”

“Right,” Kim said, hearing the exasperation in her own

voice. “I know what desert varnish is. It’s what they etched the

petroglyphs in.”

“Oh, sure,” Randi said. “Sorry. I’m used to talking to tourists.

What about these broken footpaths? Do you know about those,

too?”

“Yes,” said Kim, resisting the urge to remind Randi that she

was an experienced archaeologist with a specialty in ancient

cultures of the American Southwest. The footpaths they were

38

following toward the site were faint, narrow trails through the

landscape, hundreds of years old. Periodically, the trail would

simply end. At that point, the continuation of the trail would be a

long hop to the left or right. “They’re prehistoric trails. They’re

broken periodically to confuse the evil spirits, to prevent them

from following.”

“Matt told me about that,” Randi said, hopping from one

trail to the next. “He said we should stay on the paths and keep

up the tradition. That way, the trails won’t disappear.”

“Agreed,” Kim said, hopping over behind Randi. Ramon

followed suit.

“You can see why the site has remained pretty much secret.

Nobody would ever come out here on purpose. There are no

hiking trails and the road doesn’t pass close enough to reveal

anything. Just a pile of dark rocks to anybody passing by. And the

only passersby are either BLM employees or prospectors. There

are mining claims all around us.”

“Gold mines?” Kim asked, walking directly behind Randi.

“Mainly, yes.”

“So there’s gold out here?”

“Oh, sure. There are also a lot of old, abandoned mines. You

should stay away from those. They’re dangerous.”

They continued following the ancient pathway to the

outcrop.

“Steve said you do mine inspections,” Kim said. “What

exactly does that involve?”

“I make sure the claim holders pay their annual fee and

follow all the rules, like working their claims, for instance. I also

determine the feasibility of any new claims.”

“How do you do that, then?”

“Mineral evaluation. I mean, if there’s no evidence of valuable

minerals, the claim is denied. There are a couple of tests you have

to apply. One is the marketability test. Is there any chance of

making a profit, in other words, by mining the claim. And the

other is the prudent man rule.”

“Prudent man rule?”

39

“Right. Would a man, or woman, of ordinary prudence

expend his or her labor, time and money to work this claim? If

you can answer yes to that, then maybe it’s a valid claim. These

are all really old rules, from the pioneer days, but still what we

use.”“Interesting,” Kim said. “Why does the government care

if somebody works their claim or not? In fact, why does the

government care if they stake a claim where there’s no gold to be

found? Their tough luck, right?”

“It all goes back to the law of eighteen sixty-two.” Randi’s

tone was authoritative. “The government didn’t want people

aimlessly digging around looking for gold. They wanted the

gold and silver out of the ground and into circulation. It’s also

to prevent speculation. If there was no requirement to work the

claim, people could stake claims anywhere and everywhere they

wanted and just sit back and wait for somebody to stumble on a

vein of gold, then they’d sell their claims at a profit, having done

nobody any good while they were waiting. In other words, no

precious metals in the coffers.”

“I see.”

“It’s also to prevent homesteading on false pretenses. The

requirement to work the claim prevents people just grabbing

land to live on for free.”

Kim scanned the landscape. “Yeah, I can see how folks would

be building like crazy out here otherwise.”

Randi turned and shot her one of those you’re-not-as-funny-

as-you-think-you-are looks.

Kim decided to change the subject. “So, are you from here?”

“No. I grew up in Phoenix. Moved here two years ago.”

Kim itched to ask why. Phoenix seemed a vastly better place

to be for so many reasons. But she decided the question might be

too personal for their brief acquaintance and, besides, they were

nearly at the site.

Just a few feet from the outcrop, Kim could still see nothing of

interest. She wasn’t surprised. That was the nature of petroglyphs.

They weren’t easy to see, especially from any distance.

40

As they reached the rocks, however, her eye started to pick

them out. And then they began to jump at her by the dozens. She

heard Ramon whistle loudly.

“My God!” she said, walking slowly along the face of the

outcrop where hundreds of symbols were etched into the coating

of black patina. It was incredible. There were circles and spirals,

zigzags, anthromorphs, zoomorphs, geometrics and quite a few

stick figures with upraised arms that Kim recognized immediately

as Hohokam. Likewise, the animals were drawn in profile with

V-shaped heads ended in a pointy nose. There were also plenty

of those lizard men, round-bodied figures with arms, legs and a

prominent appendage between the legs, interpreted to be either

a tail, for a lizard, or a penis, for a man. If the appendage was

longer than the legs, it was usually considered to be a tail. Unless

the archaeologist was a man, Kim thought to herself with a small

snort.

Among these anticipated images, though, she began to

see some individual objects that were less familiar and more

intriguing. Kim had seen only a few photos of isolated glyphs. She

hadn’t imagined that the site would be this rich. The complexity

of motifs was also remarkable. She walked slowly around the

gallery, her attention riveted to the rocks. On the back side, the

outcrop stood on the bank of a wash. That side was unadorned

with art.

When Kim returned to the north side, she saw Randi standing

nearby, watching her, her thumbs hooked on her pockets, eyes

behind sunglasses, her expression giving away nothing.

“How do you like our petroglyphs?” she asked.

“Astonishing,” Kim replied. “Better than I imagined.”

Ramon was sitting on the ground, his legs crossed, just

looking at the rocks.

“Ramon, can you take a couple of GPS readings?” Kim asked.

“Then we can move on to the other site.” To Randi, she said, “Is

it this good?”

“Similar, but not so many.”

Ramon wrote down the coordinates and they hiked back to

41

the vehicles. Then they followed the dust cloud of Randi’s truck

again for a couple of miles to the second site. This one was closer

to the road and, like Randi had promised, similar, but not so

many.

“Are you planning on publishing a paper or an article or

something on these?” Randi asked at the second site.

“Eventually,” Kim answered. “But for right now, it’s just a

standard site survey.”

“If you publish something, the whole world will flock out

here, you know. The potential devastation to these features is

huge. Archaeological resources are unrenewable.”

Kim nodded, recognizing the common ranger chant. “Yes, I

know. We had this discussion yesterday. I understand the need to

protect cultural heritage sites. This is my business, after all.”

Kim realized that her voice had gotten harsh. This woman

was treating her like an amateur, though, and she definitely

didn’t like that, especially since Randi was speaking outside her

area of expertise. Who did she think she was talking to anyway,

telling an experienced scientist that archaeological resources are

unrenewable?

“I’m just saying—” Randi started.

“It won’t be my decision,” Kim interrupted. “You don’t have

to worry about that. This study remains off the map for as long

as the guardians of this site want it to.”

“Okay,” said Randi. “But you must be expecting to get

something out of this.”

“Other than the reward of being the first scientist to formally

study these? I think that’s plenty.”

There was no reason to tell Randi about that full professorship.

She was apparently suspicious of her motives for being here, so

Randi might see that as proof that the work was not its own

reward after all. Honestly, though, Kim reflected, the work

would be enough to make this worthwhile. The promotion was

the cherry on top.

“But, for the record,” Randi said, “Matt’s known about these

for over thirty years.”

42

Then maybe he should have published, Kim thought, irritated.

But she just nodded, suddenly realizing that Randi saw her as an

interloper. She had noticed that Randi referred to the sites as

“our petroglyphs.” Interesting, since Randi had only been in

Yuma for two years herself.

“Thank you for the tour,” Kim said. “I think we’ll be fine

from here on out.”

Randi gazed at her from under the brim of her hat, her

expression thoughtful. “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to run out

and check on one of my miners, then. He’s just a couple of miles

down the road. Name’s Flynn. Lives out here full-time, so he

may be the only person you see while you’re out here. Make sure

you bring plenty of water every day and a first-aid kit. Watch out

for rattlesnakes and scorpions. And everything you bring in, you

bring out. Got that?”

Kim resented the authoritative tone Randi was taking. “Of

course,” she answered coolly, impatient for Randi to leave.

“I mean everything. You’re going to be working out here every

day for several weeks and you’re not using this place as a toilet.

Get yourself some plastic bags and a pooper scooper.”

Kim glanced at Ramon, whose eyes had gotten wide.

“No, I’m not kidding,” Randi said sternly to Ramon. “I’ll be

on the radio if you need anything, like help finding your way

back out.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Kim said shortly.

Randi turned and walked to her truck. A couple of minutes

later, she was heading down the road.

“Redneck!” Kim said to herself. To Ramon, she said, “Let’s

get started. Be on the lookout for scatter—any points, scrapers,

bones or other ancillary objects that might be lying around. I

expect we’ll find something in addition to the glyphs, although

enough people have been through here that the good stuff is

probably already gone. Why don’t we start by drawing a rough

map of both sites and taking some general photos just to get a

feel for what we have here.”

Ramon nodded, clearly as excited as she was.

43

CHAPTER SIX

Randi had been right about one thing—this was a lonely place.

As they worked, they heard nothing other than the occasional

plane passing overhead. The only animals they saw were lizards.

Not even any birds, as they were nowhere near a body of water.

There was no shade except the shadow cast from the outcrop

itself. In the afternoon, at least, they would be sheltered.

Ramon worked his way to the east and Kim went to the west,

peering from all angles at the boulders of the lava flow. After a

few minutes, Kim’s eyes had adapted to the colors of the patina

and etchings, getting better at picking out the glyphs. Some were

less distinct than others and she began to think the site would

yield rock art from more than one historic period. That wasn’t

unusual. The confluence of two major rivers would have been

44

noteworthy to any population that had ever lived in the area.

No doubt they would have put up their own particular type of

signpost. Ancient paths, too, tended to be used over and over by

different groups. Why reinvent the wheel, after all. Not that these

people used wheels in those days. She smiled at that thought.

“How did it look over there?” Kim asked Ramon when they

met back in the middle.

“There are so many.” Ramon’s eyes flashed with the thrill

of discovery. “They’re thick up to that tall jagged boulder right

over there. On the other side of that, there aren’t very many. Just

a few scattered here and there. There’s a really nice group of deer

about eye-level on that last big boulder.”

“Deer?” Kim said. “You’ll see when I give you the checklist,

there are no deer.”

“Oh, yes, they’re deer all right. They have antlers and

everything.”

Kim laughed. “That’s not what I mean. We call those horned

zoomorphs.” She stepped over to the outcrop and pointed to

a human figure with hands raised. “Anthromorph. The idea is

to avoid interpretation while doing the classification. Opinion

doesn’t enter into it.”

He nodded. “Because if it isn’t an objective description, it

might be wrong.”

“Exactly. We don’t interpret when we record. Interpret

later. Then everybody gets to interpret from the most objective

starting point possible. There’s a good example over here.” She

led him a few steps along the face of the outcrop and pointed to

a faint symbol. “What do you think?”

“Looks like a snake.”

“Yes, but it probably isn’t. Normally this symbol represents a

spring. The head of the snake is the source of the spring and the

wavy line coming out of it is the flowing water. Pretty important

thing to record in the desert.”

“Oh, okay. So it’s a spring.”

“Nope. That’s an interpretation. The way we record this is

dot with squiggle line.”

45

He raised his eyebrows in understanding.

“Even though this is generally accepted as the symbol for a

spring, we still want to avoid making assumptions. You’ll get it.”

Kim stepped out from the shadow of the outcrop. “So how about

showing me those cool deer?”

Later, as they walked back to the pickup for a lunch break,

Randi drove up, returning from visiting her miner.

“How are you doing?” she called from the cab.

“Great,” Kim replied.

“I’m heading back to town. See you later.”

Kim waved as Randi went on her way. She and Ramon sat on

the tailgate with their lunches. Kim had brought a ham sandwich.

Ramon had beans and tortillas.

“That smells good,” Kim said.

“Just leftovers. My mother is a very traditional cook. Do you

like Mexican food?”

“Oh, yeah!”

“Do you like tamales? We’ve got some left from Christmas.”

“Homemade tamales? Now that would be a treat.”

“Okay. Tomorrow, then, I’ll bring tamales for both of us.”

Ramon smiled, showing off his perfect white teeth.

Kim sighed contentedly, gazing across the landscape. This

was going to be wonderful, she thought. It felt fantastic to be

out in the field again. This was what it was all about, after all.

When she’d set her sights on archaeology back in junior high,

it certainly wasn’t about standing in front of a class of sleepy

students. It was about Tomb Raider and King Tut, Curse of the

Mummies, even. Like so many other youngsters, she had equated

archaeology with Egyptology. And though she hadn’t ever been

to Egypt to see the pyramids, she had found something equally

interesting closer to home. The Southwest Indian cultures were

complex and fascinating, offering lifetimes of possibility for study.

Even with all the work that had already been done, the stories of

the ancient cultures, the Patayan, Anasazi, Hohokam and others

were still just outlines. Every find was a potential explanation,

another clue to reconstructing the history of these people, of

46

how they lived, what they believed, where they came from and

where they went.

Someday she would get to see those pyramids, she had no

doubt. But just as a tourist. Her imagination had been thoroughly

captured by the early cultures of North America now, especially

the desert dwellers who had left behind so many wonderful,

visible reminders of themselves like Chaco Canyon and Mesa

Verde. The more she learned about them, the more she admired

them, and the more she wanted to be a part of unearthing them

and bringing them back to life.

It was a shame that so little of archaeology took place in

the field these days. Kim supposed that was true of most of the

natural sciences. She knew that geology was also like that, that

what Randi was doing, running around in the desert all day,

was not typical. Most of the geologists Kim knew were either

teachers like herself or worked in the environmental field, in soil

and groundwater contamination. They weren’t doing what they

thought of as “real geology.” If they were on site, they were most

likely supervising the drilling of monitoring wells. Kim was sure

that these scientists had not been dreaming of monitoring wells

in their student days while swinging their rock hammers with

gusto at some provocative outcrop.

What she was doing here in Yuma was the glamorous

aspect of her science, the part that everyone imagined when

they contemplated archaeology. She could see it in the eyes

of her students when the subject turned from a discussion of

methodology to specific examples of artifacts, of glorious finds

like the Chinese terra cotta warriors or the ancient hominid

fossil named Lucy. They were convinced, of course, that it could

happen to them too. Why not? Chauvet Cave, for instance, with

its unparalleled Paleolithic art, lay undiscovered in populated

France until 1994! These were the stories that drove young

people to enter the field, spurred on by their imagined thrill of

finding something ancient and surrounded by mystery.

Archaeology was largely a puzzle-solving process, finding all

the little bits of evidence and then trying to fit them together

47

in space and time. She had always liked puzzles, the harder the

better. She could sit bent over a jigsaw puzzle, putting together

a solid blue sky for several hours and not tire of it. Her brother,

however, would only work sections of puzzles with detailed

images. He had no interest in examining the shape of the pieces,

but only the picture on the surface. That had been their method.

Kim would put together a few inches of sky while Jackson would

assemble a horse, barn, some ducks in a pond and a bridge over

a stream. He was still like that, she thought, industrious but

impatient. He worked in construction. In a few hours, he could

frame a house. In a few hours, she could find one nugget of

charred wood in a grid section of earth, and both of them would

walk away triumphant.

Kim knew she would enjoy the petroglyph project, despite

the heat, the dirt, the lack of civilization in town. And, when the

time was up, she would be relieved to get home, as was always

the case when she was gone for any length of time. She would

even be glad to get back to those fresh-faced students with their

endearing fantasies of finding their own version of Lucy.

48

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thursday after work Kim finally made it to Dolly’s. She and

Ramon stopped there for dinner, partly because the chile verde

that Ramon’s mother had made them for lunch had been so fiery

that Kim had ended up in tears with her nose running, unable to

eat more than a bite.

“I’ll tell Mama to make it gringo-style from now on,” Ramon

had promised, trying not to laugh as Kim stuck a tortilla down

her throat to try to quench the flames. So, by the end of the day,

she was ravenous.

As Ramon opened the door of the restaurant for her, she

saw with a start that it was actually an old jailhouse door, right

out of that John Wayne western she had been looking for ever

since arriving in Yuma. Ramon saw her looking at the door and

49

grinned, then swept his hat off his head with a flourish. “Welcome

to Dolly’s, senorita!”

Inside, it was a curiosity shop, cluttered with a bizarre array

of dissimilar objects. The place was packed. Ramon found a table

for them off to the side, near a wall covered with movie posters.

There was Clark Gable and Carole Lombard, and yes, John

Wayne. Peering closely and scrunching up her eyes, Kim could

just make out the words “To Dolly” scrawled on the Clark Gable

poster above his signature. She turned to Ramon with surprise.

“All of these movie stars have been here?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied. “They’ve been making movies here

forever. All those old road movies. You know, with Bing Crosby

and Bob Hope and the girl that always had that flower in her

hair?”

Kim groped her memory. “Dorothy Lamour?”

“Yeah, that’s her!”

Kim scanned the wall of posters, marveling at the sheer

volume of them.

“What do you eat here?” she asked, picking up a menu.

“Since this is your first time,” Ramon said, “you should try

the especial.”

“Okay,” Kim said, tentatively. “It’s not armadillo or

something?”

“No, no.” He laughed. “It’s a combination hotdog and

cheeseburger. Nobody else does it.”

“In that case, I’ll have that.”

An elderly woman in green polyester pants with curly red

hair styled not unlike Shirley Temple’s, arrived at their table with

her order book, pen poised. “Hi, Ramon!” she called. “Who’s

your girlfriend? Cutie pie, isn’t she?”

Ramon’s face rapidly reddened. Kim suppressed a laugh.

“Dolly,” he said, “this is Dr. Gatlin.”

“Oh, land sakes!” Dolly said, reeling backward. “A doctor?

Now how did a little pipsqueak like you get yourself a doctor?

Honey, I don’t know what this boy has been telling you, but it’s

a pack of lies. This boy is a waiter right here. Gets an employee

50

discount. You’ll see when the bill comes. That’s why he’s brought

you here. And he isn’t even our best waiter either. He’s not that

fast. I mean, I think he’s a darlin’, but he’s no Robert Redford, if

you know what I mean.”

Kim looked at Ramon, who looked like he was about to have a

stroke, and said, “Oh, I think more of a young Antonio Banderas.

With looks like that, what more does a man need?”

Dolly cackled loudly, her eyes tearing up with glee.

Ramon stuttered. “She isn’t— She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Whatever you say, Antonio,” Dolly said. “What’ll you

have?”

“Two especials.”

When Dolly left, laughing to herself, Ramon said, “I know

you’re joking, but you don’t want to start a rumor like that. My

girlfriend is the jealous type.”

“Okay,” Kim said. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. What’s your

girlfriend’s name?”

“Sophie.”

“Don’t worry. Sophie has nothing to be jealous about. I’m

gay. You can tell her that if you want to.”

He looked startled. “Oh,” he said, looking down at the table.

“Is that a problem?” she asked.

He shook his head, looking up again. “No. I’m just surprised.

No problem.”

“Good. By the way, does this town have a gay bar?”

“Uh, yes, there is one, just one, for both men and women. It’s

just down the road.”

Kim wanted that out in the open between them. They were

going to be working alone together day after day for a while,

and she didn’t want to invite any misunderstandings. Although

Ramon was a student, he was not that much younger than she

was, and she had already dealt with her share of student crushes.

Heading them off before they had to be dealt with was much

preferred.

Once the food arrived, Kim went into serious eating mode.

Working in the desert all day had revved up her thirst as well as

51

her appetite. They drank a pitcher of water between them. As

she ate her especial, a split frankfurter on top of a hamburger

patty in a bun, Kim continued to look around, trying to take in

the incredible array of stuff. At the back of the restaurant were

two pool tables, continuously occupied since they had come in.

A card table immediately in front of the pool tables was occupied

by old men playing checkers, intent on their game. In the other

back corner was a net enclosing an area with a basketball hoop.

A little boy was inside with his father. The kid was three or four

years old, and the father laughed encouragingly every time he

managed to throw the sponge ball in the area anywhere near

the hoop. In the center of the room was, of all things, a battered

rowboat full of bright orange sausage-shaped floats, and on the

ceiling a Schwinn bicycle hung down precariously by its rear

wheel. Every bit of wall space and ceiling space was covered. It

was fascinating. Kim imagined that this “décor” had evolved over

time without a plan, as if this spacious restaurant were someone’s

personal storage locker.

“How old is this restaurant?” she asked Dolly when she came

to collect their plates.

“Nineteen twelve,” Dolly said proudly. “It was a saloon and

flophouse back then. And, no, I didn’t work here in those days. I

bought this place in eighty-two.”

“Eighty-two? But all these movie stars must have been here

before that. Some of them, anyway. Like Vivien Leigh here. She

died long before that.”

“Oh, sure. The ‘Dolly’ she signed that to was the one before

me. The first Dolly. When I bought the place, I decided to keep

the name. Historic old restaurant, after all. So I renamed myself

instead.”

Kim nodded. “Smart.”

Dolly slapped Ramon playfully on the back of the head. “So

how about a slice of cherry pie, Antonio?”

“No, thanks, Dolly. Kim, do you want dessert?”

Kim shook her head. Dolly ripped the bill from her book and

handed it to Ramon. “Here you go, big spender,” she said.

52

After dinner, Ramon walked outside with Kim and pointed

the way to the gay bar, a single-story white house that had been

converted. In front was an old neon sign shaped like a martini

glass that read “Pinkie’s.” Classic, Kim thought. That building

looked like it had been there a while too.

“Thanks,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

Ramon returned to the restaurant to begin his evening work

shift.

53

CHAPTER EIGHT

Kim went home and showered, washing a visible coat of

dirt off her legs, then changed into her good pair of jeans and

a cotton shirt. She didn’t expect much from Pinkie’s. What kind

of a gay community could there be, after all, in a small border

town dominated by blue-collar families, especially for someone

accustomed to the metropolitan areas of northern California. But

it was a place to start, to see if she could find some entertainment,

some friends to go to a movie with or just somebody to talk to.

Inside, the bar was dark. The windows facing the street were

shuttered. A slight man stood behind the bar on one end of a long

room. The tables in the main room were mostly empty except for

a trio of young men. She could hear the sound of pool tables in

an unseen area of the bar, but there were no women in sight. It

54

was worth a try, anyway, she thought. She walked up to the bar.

The bartender smiled and said, “Welcome to Pinkie’s. What’ll

you have?”

“How about white wine?” she said, sliding onto a bar stool.

“Maybe sauvignon blanc or whatever’s good.”

The bartender had thin blond hair, wore black-framed glasses

and a crisp white shirt with rainbow-patterned suspenders. It’s a

look, Kim thought.

“I have a pinot gris from Santa Ynez that’s outstanding. What

d’ya say?”

Kim nodded. “I’ll try it. Santa Barbara area, right?”

He pulled the cork from the bottle. “Exactly. You know it,

then.”

“I’m from California.”

“Then have a little taste of home. I’m Jeff, by the way.” He

handed her the glass.

“Kim,” she said.

“Welcome, Kim. Passing through?”

“No, actually, I’m here for a few months working.” Kim

explained her job in vague terms, keeping in mind the sensitivity

of her subject.

“Lots of old Indian sites around here, for sure,” Jeff said.

Kim tasted the wine and gave Jeff a thumbs-up.

“There are some girls in the courtyard,” he said. “Come on.

I’ll introduce you.”

Things are looking up, she thought, following him through

an open doorway to a shady patio full of greenery, climbing vines

and blooming potted plants. A potbellied stove in the corner

provided some much-needed warmth to the tiny space. Kim

could hear Patsy Cline singing low from somewhere nearby.

At a round redwood table, under an umbrella, sat Randi with

three other women. Randi was wearing jeans and the same white

cowboy hat, as well as a black vest over a white shirt that made

her look even more like a cowgirl than before. A highball glass

containing ice and a cola-colored liquid sat on the table in front

of her. Rum and Coke, Kim guessed.

55

Randi slouched in her chair unselfconsciously, but when

she saw Kim, her mouth fell open and she practically jumped

to attention. Kim was amused by Randi’s obvious surprise and

discomfort, but wasn’t really happy to see her, thinking, is she

going to show up everywhere I go in this town? But maybe

Randi was thinking the same thing about her.

Jeff proceeded to introduce her to Minnie, Darlene and

Blair. Minnie was a tiny thing, about ninety pounds, short and

so diminutive that Kim wondered whether her name was Minnie

or Mini.

As Jeff was about to introduce Randi, Kim said, “Randi and I

already know one another.”

Minnie looked inquiringly from Kim to Randi, and said, “Oh,

really? How is that?” She sounded suspicious.

“She’s working with BLM,” Randi explained. She had

regained her composure. “Sit down, Tilley, and get acquainted.”

Since Kim wasn’t wearing her Tilley hat, she had hoped

that Randi would have forgotten that nickname. Apparently not.

Were Minnie and Randi a couple, she wondered briefly, taking

an empty chair between Darlene and Blair. Darlene was about

forty, tall, thin, slim-hipped, her light brown hair cut short, her

round blue eyes twinkling in what seemed a perpetual smile.

Blair was somewhat younger, rounder and softer, with full lips

and a freckled, turned-up nose. Her hair was reddish gold, and it

looked natural, a match with her fair complexion. She wore cargo

shorts, out of which flowed smooth tan legs that ended in white

sandals. Kim noticed the red polish on her toenails.

“Jeff will serve any paying customer,” Randi said as Jeff was

leaving the courtyard. “But this is actually a gay bar, primarily.

Just so you know that.”

“Thank you, Randi,” Kim said with deliberate sarcasm, “for

that illuminating information.”

Blair laughed and then smiled widely at Kim. Randi frowned.

So she had been hoping this was a mistake, that Kim had

wandered into Pinkie’s unknowingly. I’m invading your territory

again, Kim thought, with just a bit of satisfaction.

56

“Kim’s an archaeologist,” Randi said to the others. “She’ll be

here for a few months, surveying a Hohokam site.”

“Really?” said Blair. “That’s fascinating. So, Hohokam, are

those the ones who built the cliff houses?”

“No,” Kim said, “those are the Anasazi. The Hohokam were

contemporaries of the Anasazi, but the impressive thing they

left behind is an elaborate system of irrigation canals. They

developed a complex method of watering their crops at a time

when agriculture was a completely new concept.”

“Very interesting. Is that what you do, then, go around

digging up old Indian artifacts?”

“It’s what I do when I get the chance, which isn’t often. Most

of the time I teach.”

“Where do you teach?” Darlene asked.

“UC Davis.”

Darlene nodded appreciatively. “Good school. I teach too,

English, at Arizona Western College. That’s our local community

college.”

“Yes, I know it. The boy who’s working with me, Ramon, is

a student there.”

During the next half hour, Kim learned that Darlene was

happily coupled, her partner Trina still at work, and Blair was

unattached. Blair seemed to want to make that totally clear to Kim.

Minnie, a registered nurse, appeared familiar and affectionate

toward Randi, who remained characteristically reserved. Blair was

a physical therapist at the same hospital where Minnie worked.

“I hear they’re going to start filming that new movie soon,”

Minnie said. “Probably need a lot of extras like usual. Anybody

interested in going with me to try out?”

“I’ll go,” Blair said. “The Scorpion King was a lot of fun. I’d like

to get another part like the slave girl attendant to Queen Isis.”

Blair fluttered her eyelashes and put the back of her hand to her

forehead dramatically, sighing.

“That was the perfect part for you,” Randi noted, laughing.

“I was just over at Dolly’s earlier this evening,” Kim said,

“and saw all of the movie posters. This is apparently some kind

57

of movie-making mecca, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Darlene told her. “Some westerns, of course, as you’d

expect, but the sand dunes just outside town stand in a lot for

Middle Eastern and African deserts, like the Sahara. Goes

way back. They filmed The Son of the Sheik here with Rudolph

Valentino.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Randi said. “The Imperial Dunes look

nothing like the Sahara.”

“In a movie, nobody’s going to know the difference,” Blair

said. “Just a bunch of sand, after all.”

“There’s more to a sand dune than just a bunch of sand,”

Randi said, sitting up straight. “There are actually five types of

dunes. You can tell them by the patterns of deposit, the shapes

of the crests, that sort of thing. It all boils down to wind, the

direction and intensity of it, and how much sand is available. In

the Sahara, you’ll see sand mounds that radiate out and down

in arms, sort of like a pinwheel. They’re called star dunes and

they form like that because the winds come from all different

directions.”

Blair rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, so the movie’s going to be

ruined for a few anal geologists.”

Randi frowned and took a swallow of her drink. Actually, Kim

thought, that was sort of interesting about the different types of

dunes.

“Remember Tank Girl?” asked Minnie, and the entire table

burst into laughter. “I’m hoping for a real part in this next one.

More than just a walk-on.”

“What sort of movie is it?” Kim asked.

“A western,” Minnie said. “Classic Wild West with a saloon,

sheriff, horses, bad guys, the whole works. They don’t make many

of those anymore.”

“So, Randi,” Kim said, “with the boots, the hat and the vest,

you look like you’re ready for tryouts yourself.”

Blair laughed and looked at Kim appreciatively, her smile

warm and inviting. Randi narrowed her eyes at Kim, but said

nothing, in true western tradition. Now, Kim thought, is where

58

she should take her six-shooter out of her gun belt and tip up the

brim of her hat with the end of the barrel.

When Randi had finished her drink, she stood, saying, “Gotta

go. Breeze’ll be wondering what’s happened to me.”

“Breeze?” Kim asked.

“My dog.” Randi took off without another word.

“She loves that dog,” Minnie said, sounding exasperated.

Darlene started talking about her dogs, and Blair joined in

with a story about her cat, and the conversation turned to pets.

Kim had little to contribute to that. Tropical fish didn’t generate

too many funny stories. As soon as she finished her wine, she said,

“I think I’ll get going.”

“Oh, don’t go, Kim,” Blair said, touching her arm lightly.

“Have another glass of wine.”

Kim saw Minnie raise an eyebrow in Darlene’s direction,

suggestively, as though they were sharing an in-joke.

“I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” Kim said, standing.

“It was nice to meet you all. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

Blair followed Kim out through the front room, saying, “I’m

having a party at my ranch in a couple of weeks. We’ll have a

bonfire, carne asada, sing some songs. That sort of thing. Would

you come?”

Kim stopped at the front door. “Uh, maybe. Will Randi be

there?”

“I’m sure she will. Is there a problem between you two?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. I don’t think she likes

me.”“There will be a lot of people there. It won’t matter, even

if that’s true, although I don’t see why it would be. Randi’s very

easygoing. She likes everybody.”

“Apparently not everybody,” Kim remarked, fishing one of

her business cards from her bag. “Why don’t you e-mail me the

details?”

Blair took the card, glancing at it briefly. “I’ll be in touch. I

hope you can come. If you’re going to be in town for a while,

you’ll want to meet everybody, and they’ll all be there. And I’d

59

love to see you again.” Blair’s hazel eyes looked nearly green as

she said this.

Blair’s interest was both pleasant and inconvenient. She was a

sexy woman. There was a voluptuousness about her that appealed

to Kim, who had always been a sucker for a deep cleavage, and

Blair’s low-cut blouse proudly displayed that attribute. But she

was definitely not looking for a relationship of any kind while in

this town. She would tell Blair that, the next time she saw her,

make it clear that all she was interested in was friendship.

The bonfire sounded like fun. She hadn’t been to a bonfire

since girl scout camp. With a big enough crowd, it would be

possible to avoid any awkward encounters with Randi. Or maybe

that was the wrong approach, Kim considered. Maybe getting

to know her better was the answer. Kim didn’t particularly want

to be involved in a feud with anyone at the BLM office. Since

she was working on their land, they needed to be partners. They

were on the same side, after all, in regard to the Indian artifacts.

She didn’t understand Randi’s attitude toward her. What could

she have against me, she wondered, since we’ve only just met? Of

course, making fun of her around her friends couldn’t help much.

No, that was counterproductive. Hard to resist, though. Blair, for

one, seemed to have appreciated it.

Picturing Randi’s reluctant, close-lipped smile, Kim

resolved to try harder to be friends with her, or at least not to be

enemies.

60

CHAPTER NINE

Flynn’s shack was unintentionally airy, built of lumber and

tin he had scavenged from the landscape, from old mines and

old mining sheds. All of his furniture was also handmade, built

for practicality, not beauty. He wasn’t much of a carpenter, really,

and everything was cockeyed in one way or another. The table,

for instance, where they sat over their domino game, wobbled

back and forth when the wood chip under one of the legs slipped

out.Randi had stopped to check on Flynn, as she did at least

once a week, to make sure he was okay. There were a couple of

miners like him, old guys who lived out here full time. Most of

the miners rarely came around. They worked their mines only

enough to fulfill the requirements of the claim, but a few like

61

Flynn had made this their lives. Some people would find it hard

to understand why a man would choose this kind of life, but she

herself saw the appeal. It was uncomplicated. There was no stress

and there were few decisions to be made day to day.

Flynn had electricity from a generator, so it wasn’t entirely

primitive here, but he cooked most of his meals in a pot on a

fire outside or ate right out of cans. He came into town to get

supplies, but spent most of his time alone, speaking only to Randi

for days on end. That was why her visits usually extended past

the obligatory professional checklist and included at least a long

conversation, often a game of checkers or dominoes, like today.

There were hazards to this lifestyle as well. If Flynn got sick,

he treated himself with home remedies and hoped for the best.

If he got sick enough, he would die, like any other creature in

the desert. That’s the way he wanted it. Randi would take him to

the doctor if he ever needed it, but she didn’t tell him that. He

wasn’t afraid of dying. It was part of the natural process. Being

out here with Flynn reminded Randi of that, reminded her of

what was natural and what was not, what was important and what

was expendable.

Today she had brought him some strawberries. That was a

luxury he jumped on with lip-smacking indulgence. She’d also

brought him a five-gallon can of water which she did sometimes

to save him a trip into town. She tucked one of his empties into

the bed of her truck for another day.

His mine yielded very little, but over time, with hard labor

and patience, he could accumulate an ounce or two of gold. He

would then come into town and, after a stop at the assay office,

treat himself to a steak and some whiskey, like some old-time

cowhand with his week’s pay on a Saturday night. Other than

those little treats, Flynn’s life was stripped down nearly to bare

essentials. Why he lived like this, how it had come about, and

where he came from was never part of their conversation. Randi

knew nothing about his family or his origins. He told stories of

his past, but they were always about his wanderings, as a miner

and a loner.

62

Randi tried to make her visits predictable. Otherwise, she

would find Flynn dirty and foul smelling. But if she arrived on

Monday afternoons, she would find him bathed, shaved and

wearing clean clothes, as if they were going on a date. Sometimes

he even made lunch, which cycled among hash and eggs, chili

and a meaty brown stew that varied slightly in color and texture,

but not in flavor, and was always served with fresh biscuits. She

didn’t ask what was in it, but guessed rabbit, quail and maybe the

occasional rattlesnake. The stew tasted fine, but the chili was her

favorite.

Today, though, it was just the strawberries and the customary

box of licorice ropes, a treat he indulged in like a chain-smoker,

one after another, letting them hang out of the side of his mouth

like a limp cigarette. Hands free, he bit a hunk off every minute

or so and the rope grew gradually shorter until it was gone.

The left corner of his mouth was often stained black from this

practice. At the moment, he had put the licorice aside in favor of

the strawberries.

“Have you met our two visitors yet?” Randi asked him across

a growing mosaic of dominoes.

“Nope. Haven’t been that way lately. I should pay ’em a visit.

What do you think of ’em?”

“They’re okay, I guess,” Randi said. “The boy is a local. Dr.

Gatlin, Kim, is from Sacramento.”

“That’s her name, the archaeologist?”

Randi nodded, putting down a domino. Her opinion of Kim,

after finding out she was a lesbian, had softened, although she

was still suspicious of her motives. And then there was just her

general haughtiness.

“I don’t know what her angle is,” she said. “I think she’s

ambitious, you know. Trying to make a name for herself, most

likely, like she discovered something.”

“So, what’s wrong with that?”

“It’s just wrong. Matt’s been protecting these sites for decades,

through his entire career. They belong to him. He should be the

one to get the credit.”

63

“But he didn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it, right?”

“You mean the formal survey? No, he didn’t.”

“Then somebody else’s got to do it.” Flynn made a smacking

noise as he sucked another strawberry into his mouth.

“I guess,” Randi admitted. “Still irks me.”

“Yeah, I can see that. How is old Matt, by the way? I miss him.”

“He’s fine. Bounced right back from that surgery. He’s just

bought himself a boat.”

“A boat? Fishing boat?”

“No. Sailboat. He showed me a picture. Beautiful thing.

Docked in San Diego. He’s going to become a sailor.”

“No kidding? Moving to California, then?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. Isn’t that a kick in the head?”

“Yes, it is. He seemed so connected to this land that I just

assumed he would stay here until he died and get buried right

back into it like his ancestors. I thought he was planted here like

a cholla.”

“You never can tell about people,” Flynn said, putting down

his last domino. “You think you know ’em, but then they go and

buy a sailboat. Go figure.”

Flynn leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto the back legs.

Having finished the strawberries, he took a rope of licorice and

stuck it in its customary perch in the left corner of his mouth.

“Nothing could ever make me move to California,” Randi

said flatly.

“What d’ya have against California?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Californians think everything’s better

there—the food, the weather, the beaches.”

Flynn laughed loudly. “I gotta tell ya, Randi Girl, the beaches

are better there and I don’t think you’ll find anybody who’d

disagree.”

“Okay, I’ll give them that. But, you know, they think everybody

else feels the same way, like all of us would rather live there if

only we could, like we should be pitied. Just a huge parking lot,

that’s what California is.”

64

“I don’t know. You get up there around Eureka and it’s

damned pretty country. Redwoods, wild coastline, crystal clear

streams full of trout. Back in the Seventies, I was up there for

a spell. I was a young fella then. Did some panning up in the

Klamath Mountains. That’s where Bigfoot lives, you know, up

there in the northern California mountains.”

Randi had heard this before, so she tried to steer him back to

the subject at hand. “I’m not saying that California isn’t all that.

But every place has its good points and I’d just like to hear them

admit it. I can see that archaeologist just looking down her nose

at us.”

“I guess I’ll have to pay her a visit and see for myself. She’s

managed to get all over your bad side.” He grinned, displaying

a conspicuous gap in his teeth behind his left incisor. “Is she

pretty?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s pretty.” Randi realized that she had said that

in a slightly dreamy way, so she sat up straighter and said, “But,

you know, in an ordinary sort of pretty way. Nothing special.”

Flynn said nothing, just eyed her as his licorice rope

dwindled.

After leaving Flynn, Randi wasn’t intending to stop at the

petroglyph site, but as she approached it, she was startled to see

a blue fiberglass Porta-Potti standing on the side of the road

beside Kim’s pickup.

“What the . . . ?” she said aloud.

She pulled off the road and walked up to the toilet. Then

she took off toward the outcrop, almost in too much of a hurry

to follow the Indian trails. She could see Kim and Ramon sitting

close to one another in their beach chairs. No doubt they had

seen her drive up.

“Hey,” she called before reaching them. “What the hell is

that thing doing out here?”

Kim turned to look at her. “You mean the chemical toilet?”

she asked, calmly.

“Yeah.” Randi stopped in front of her chair.

“Go ahead and use it if you want.”

65

Now she’s just mocking me, Randi decided. “You can’t just

bring whatever the hell you want out here. Next thing I know

you’ll be building a campfire and burning up all the mesquite

trees.”

Kim stood, looking coolly at Randi in her ordinary sort of

pretty way. “The toilet is doing no harm,” she said. “And it’s not

your call.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Steve arranged for it. If you have an issue with it, take it up

with him.”

Kim turned and walked pointedly away. Randi glanced at

Ramon, who pursed his lips and looked as though he wanted

nothing to do with this, then turned his attention back to the

computer in his lap.

Randi felt herself getting red in the face. She stood there for

a moment, deciding on her next move. Okay, she thought, I don’t

have any legitimate complaint. I’m just a big, bossy jerk. It’s not

illegal, harmful or permanent. The only objection I’ve got is that

she did it without asking me. I’ve just made an ass of myself.

One thing Randi had learned over the years was that the best

strategy when you make an ass of yourself is to just disappear.

Once upon a time, she would have blustered about and made a

bigger ass of herself, but not now.

She turned without a word and walked back to the road and

her truck. If Kim was watching her, she didn’t know it because

she didn’t look back.

66

CHAPTER TEN

Ramon and Kim had settled into an efficient routine now,

mapping, gathering coordinates, taking digital photos and

cataloguing the symbols on the rocks at both sites. Ramon often

sat at his panel, listening to music through earphones, bopping

his head as he numbered, photographed and logged each image.

Kim preferred the quiet, the buzz of insects, the scuffling of

lizards, the near silence of a hot wind shifting a few grains of sand.

Each day, Ramon brought lunch for both of them, homemade

Mexican delicacies from his mother’s kitchen. She apparently

enjoyed preparing their lunch, and Kim was more than grateful,

especially since the level of spiciness was now tolerable.

“If I ever get married, I hope my wife can cook like this,”

Ramon said, eating sopapillas.

67

“Me too,” Kim said.

Ramon laughed.

“Is Sophie a good cook?” Kim asked.

He looked suddenly bashful. Funny how he got embarrassed

so easily when it came to these matters. It was endearing. “Not

as good as Mama.”

Kim nodded.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” he asked, surprising her.

“No, no,” she said. “Nobody for me at the moment.”

They ate silently for a few minutes before Ramon said, “I’ve

been thinking about archaeology. I mean, thinking about maybe

changing my major.”

“Oh, really?” Kim put her food down to listen.

“Just thinking about it,” he elaborated. “It would mean

transferring to a university.”

“Sure. Staying in school for a few more years. I think you

should do it. You’ve obviously got the interest. And the ability to

apply yourself. No reason you couldn’t do it.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll keep thinking about it.”

After lunch, they walked back to the outcrop and continued

working until Kim saw a dust cloud coming their way. Must be

Randi, she thought, but when the vehicle stopped beside her

pickup, she saw that it wasn’t the BLM truck after all. Kim watched

nervously, since in the couple of weeks they’d been working out

here, they hadn’t seen a single person other than Randi. She got

Ramon’s attention by tapping his shoulder and pointed to the old

green truck as a man emerged from it, waving, and began to walk

toward them, not following the trails, but walking in a straight

line with a decided limp. As he came closer, Kim saw that he was

short, deeply tanned, deeply wrinkled.

“Hi, ya,” he called to them.

Kim stood waiting for him. When at last he arrived, she saw

that he had thick white whiskers framing his mouth, about three

days’ growth, and his clothes, jeans and a long-sleeved cotton

shirt, were well worn. When he smiled, he revealed a considerable

gap in his teeth.

68

“Hi,” said Kim.

“I’m Flynn. You’re the girl from California, right, come to

study these pictures?”

“Yes,” said Kim. She introduced herself and Ramon.

“Randi said you were pretty,” said Flynn. “She’s got a good

eye.” Randi said I was pretty? Kim thought. That was nice, although

unexpected.

“Mighty dangerous for a woman out here,” Flynn said.

“I don’t come out alone,” she said, indicating Ramon.

“Good thing. That Randi comes out here alone all the time

and I keep telling her she’s looking for trouble, but she’s the

orneriest thing. At least she brings that dog of hers sometimes.

That animal is a natural-born killer, and it’s a good thing for

her.”“You’re out here alone, aren’t you?” Kim said, annoyed that

he considered it more dangerous for a woman than a man.

“Oh, sure, but I’ve been living out here for thirty years and

I know what’s what. Newcomers are always coming out here

falling down mine shafts or getting shot by coyotes.”

“Shot by coyotes?”

“Smugglers,” Ramon explained. “Coyotes are the thugs who

bring illegals across the border.”

“We’ll be careful,” Kim assured him.

“You do that. A month ago I saw some wire burners just over

the ridge there.”

“Wire burners?” Kim felt like she and the old man were

speaking two different languages.

“Copper thieves,” he explained. “They bring their loot out

here and set it on fire, burn the insulation off it to get to the

copper.”

“So what have you been doing out here for thirty years?”

Kim asked.

“Looking for gold,” he said, grinning.

“Find any?”

“A little. Enough to keep me going.” Flynn stepped over to

69

a boulder and took a seat. “But I haven’t struck it rich yet. Some

day, though, I’ll find the Wolff treasure. Been looking pretty

much the whole thirty years. I’ll find it yet, you bet.”

“What’s the Wolff treasure?”

“You don’t know about that?” Flynn asked, incredulous.

Kim shook her head. Ramon too sat down to listen as Flynn

began to tell the story.

“In eighteen fifty-seven,” he said, “Helmuth Wolff came out

here prospecting like a lot of other folks. He found a rich vein and

mined it for a season. He buried a good part of the take around

here somewhere and left for San Francisco. Then he got sick and

died there before he could get back. He told a friend all about it.

Said, you go back and get it. It’s all yours. His friend came out a

year later and found the mine and took out what was left, but he

never found the buried gold. Nobody’s ever found it.”

“So how are you supposed to find it?” Kim asked, skeptical.

“How do you know where to look?”

“I got directions. Clues. Everybody knows about it. See, he

buried it on the bank of Hendy Wash where the sun sets over a

palm tree.” As Flynn said these words, he made a slow gesture of

an arc, an imitation of the sun setting.

“Good luck with that,” Kim said.

“I’ll find it,” he said with confidence.

Kim remembered Randi’s prudent man rule and wondered

if Flynn’s search for legendary gold would pass that test. Living

alone in the desert for thirty years looking for buried treasure

was an odd sort of life, no doubt. Not to mention lonely. There’s

nothing like isolation, they say, to make a person go crazy. Kim

gazed at the old man, at his deep-set eyes and whiskered grin.

Flynn sat on his rock for a while, watching them work, asking

questions about their gadgets—the laptop computer, the GPS

receiver, the digital camera—which intrigued him. He didn’t

even have a phone, he told them. Ramon took Flynn’s picture

several times and showed him on the viewing screen.

“Now that’s a sorry-looking son-of-a-bitch!” he said as he

looked at his image.

70

After an hour, Flynn ambled back to the road and drove off,

leaving them again in silence.

Kneeling in front of a low spiral at the base of the outcrop,

Kim spotted a shiny black glint in the soil near the tip of her boot.

She brushed the gravel away to reveal a small shard of obsidian.

She sat down in the shade of the outcrop and held the flake in her

palm, admiring it, a discarded remnant of point-making. This

bit, a curved piece of glass, had been chipped off by someone

fashioning a projectile hundreds of years ago.

In her mind she could see a dark-haired man sitting here in

the shade of the basalt flow, hitting glass with stone while his

companion scraped out an image of a deer—a horned zoomorph,

she reminded herself—on the rock face nearby. With precise and

deliberate movements of their hands and their stone tools, they

had created a work of art, two works of art, which each of them

must have shown the other. Then they had built a fire and eaten

some venison and talked for a while. Told stories, maybe, about

the earlier races of man or the spirits they revered or how things

came to be the way they were. Or maybe they just told raunchy

jokes about women like any other confederacy of men around a

campfire. Then they slept here under the stars at this prehistoric

crossroad, waiting for morning when they would walk east

toward home or west toward the ocean, never imagining that

theirs wasn’t the best possible kind of life. And maybe they were

right about that.

Kim heard a noise, which startled her from her daydream. She

looked up to see someone standing directly in front her. Randi.

She hadn’t spoke to Randi since the Porta-Potti incident, but at

the moment, unexpectedly, she had a relaxed smile on her face.

“Hey, there, Tilley.”

“Hi,” Kim said, standing and dusting herself off.

“What’s that?”

Kim handed her the flake of glass. “Just found this.”

“Obsidian,” Randi announced. “There’s none around here.”

“No. They were carrying it with them. That’s a piece that

was chipped off of an arrowhead or dart point.”

71

“Do you actually include something that small in your survey?

I mean, it isn’t even an arrowhead.”

“To the extent that I’ll note obsidian flakes, yes. It’s a sign

of human activity. Not very exciting, maybe, but it counts. And,

of course, the significance of the material is that it came from

somewhere else.”

“And that’s where the geologist comes in.”

Kim nodded. “Exactly. You folks will tell us where it came

from. Help to establish trade and migration routes.”

Randi handed the flake back. She waved to Ramon, who was

working downslope with his headphones on. He waved and then

went back to his work.

“We had a visit from Flynn earlier today,” Kim said. “He

regaled us with stories of buried treasure.”

“The Wolff gold, right?” Randi said. “That story is true. At

least the mine exists. I’ve been in it. No reason to think the rest

of the story isn’t true too.”

“You mean you think there’s a pot of gold buried out here

somewhere?”

“I think there’s quite a few pots of gold buried out here, and

in California, and in Nevada too. It was common practice back

then. There’s gold and silver. A lot of it was hidden by bandits

who robbed stagecoaches or trains. Happened all the time.

They’d hold up the stage transferring gold, then they’d stash

it somewhere so they could run from the sheriff’s posse. The

bandits would get killed in the shoot-out and nobody would be

left to say where they’d buried the loot.”

“Sounds like something from a Wild West movie.”

“This was the Wild West, you know,” Randi pointed out. “I

heard that a bag of gold coins was found out here five years ago.

People do find these things once in a while. Lots of people have

come around looking for the Wolff gold. I mean, Flynn may be

a little odd, but he’s not a crackpot. He’ll probably never find it,

but then again he just might.”

“Why hasn’t someone found it, then,” Kim asked, “if so many

people have been looking for it?”

72

“The clues, like the setting sun over the palm tree, don’t lead

anywhere. They may have been corrupted over time. Like the

words to Wildwood Flower.”

Kim’s confusion must have shown.

“You know,” said Randi. “The original words became total

nonsense by the time the Carter Family had a hit with it in the

Thirties.”

Randi stared at Kim for a few seconds, then said, “Oh, come

on, you know this song. Joan Baez recorded it again in the sixties.

It’s a famous old folk song.”

“Not ringing a bell,” Kim said, apologetically.

“You must know it,” Randi insisted. Then, startling Kim, she

began singing. It was slightly off-key and a little rough, but the

tune sounded familiar. Kim, amused at Randi’s unselfconscious

presentation, glanced toward Ramon, hoping he was hearing

this. But he was absorbed in his work and unaware of the show.

When Randi came to the end of her performance, she doffed her

hat and winked at Kim. Then she pushed her hat back on at a

jaunty angle.

Kim, delighted, clapped enthusiastically.

“You know it, right?” Randi asked.

“Yes. I’ve heard it. Thank you so much for the performance.”

“You’re welcome.” Randi smiled with satisfaction.

It took Kim a moment to remember what they had been

talking about. “So it’s nonsense, then, the clues? No Hendy

Wash?”

“Oh, yeah, there is. It’s just two miles east of here. It drains

into the Gila just like this wash. But there are no palm trees

there. There’s no evidence that there ever have been any palm

trees. People have gone up and down that wash for a hundred

and fifty years looking for the gold. I’ve even looked around for it

myself now and then.” Randi sat on the same boulder Flynn had

sat on earlier, stretching her long legs out in front of her. “Maybe

somebody found it a long time ago. Could be somebody found

it and ran off with it without saying anything. Legally, the gold

found on BLM land would belong to the federal government.

73

Since it’s raw gold nuggets or dust or whatever, who could tell

where it came from? Gold like that would be easy enough to

sell.”“It’s an interesting story,” Kim said. “Even without it, though,

Flynn said he’s found enough gold out here to live on all these

years.”

“If you saw how he lives, you wouldn’t be surprised.”

Randi was smiling her close-lipped smile, possibly thinking

about Flynn’s living conditions. She seemed friendlier today,

more at ease. Kim was glad.

“By the way, what’s the name of this wash?” Kim asked,

indicating the channel on the other side of the outcrop.

Randi looked perplexed and said, “Don’t know. That would

be a good thing for you to have, for thorough documentation. I’ll

check some maps back at the office.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

Yes, she was definitely friendlier. Maybe she had gotten over

her initial suspicions. Or, maybe, like Kim, she had just decided

that it would make more sense to get along.

“Randi, are you going to Blair’s party Saturday?” Kim asked.

“Sure, I’ll be there. Should be a pretty good crowd. You?”

“I’m thinking I might.”

“Good. You need to have a little fun. If all you do is work

out here in the sun all the time, you’re going to turn into an old

desert rat like Flynn. Why don’t you stop by Pinkie’s tonight too?

A few of us will be there.”

“Okay, I will.”

Kim was happy to see that Randi was extending a welcome at

last. Even her smile seemed like less of a sneer today, a real smile

that created shallow dimples in her cheeks and made her look

adorable.

Randi walked back to the road, her braid swinging back

and forth between her shoulder blades as she hopped from one

broken trail to the next. Kim went back to work, thinking about

buried treasure. It didn’t seem quite real to her, but with Randi’s

matter-of-fact corroboration, she guessed it must be.

74

That evening, after dropping off Ramon and stopping by

her trailer to change clothes, Kim drove over to Pinkie’s. As she

approached the door, she could hear noise from within, loud

laughter and even louder music. It was later than it had been

the first time she’d been here. Maybe things picked up later in

the evening. She pushed the door open and peered into the dim

room. There were several occupied tables this time. Nobody

was behind the bar at the moment, but a group of women was

standing near it, and Randi was among them. The loud music

was something twangy that Kim didn’t care for.

Just as she was about to step inside, Kim saw that Minnie was

sitting on top of the bar. How odd, she thought. Suddenly, Randi

grabbed hold of her by the seat of her pants with one hand and

took a handful of her denim jacket in the other. She jerked her

into a horizontal position as the little thing screamed and waved

her arms frantically. Oh, my God, thought Kim, freezing in the

doorway, trying to understand what she was witnessing.

Randi flung Minnie hard, punctuating her effort with a loud

“Yaaaa!” Minnie went sliding down the top of the bar like a

shuffleboard puck, smashing into the wall at the end and then

tumbling off onto the floor.

Kim gasped involuntarily as Minnie rolled over and sat up.

It looked like she was okay. She was getting to her feet at least.

Randi laughed, sat on her bar stool and took a drink from her

glass, saying, simply, “Ha!” as though proud of herself.

Kim took a step back out of the doorway, letting the door shut

in front of her face. She turned and practically ran to her pickup.

Apparently this is still the Wild West, she concluded, with its

buried treasures, hard-drinking women and barroom brawls.

As she drove to her RV park, Kim was haunted by the image

of Minnie careening down the length of the bar. It was hard to

believe what she had just seen. Violence between women was

something she couldn’t tolerate, and drunken violence was just

pathetic.

She found herself lying awake thinking about it most of the

75

night. Was this common around here? Was this typical of Randi’s

drinking behavior? Would Minnie let it go? Would Minnie’s

friends retaliate? Maybe it had erupted into a full-blown fracas

after Kim left and the whole bunch of them were in jail right now

sleeping it off.

Kim debated over and over in her mind about going to Blair’s

party. Having witnessed Randi’s attack on Minnie, she was torn.

She didn’t want to associate with Randi, but she agreed with

her that she needed to have a little fun and Randi should not

be preventing her from finding friends. Since Randi seemed to

be everywhere there were lesbians, Kim didn’t see how to avoid

her entirely. It was too bad, she thought, not for the first time,

that Randi had turned out to be such a low-class, hooch-swilling

ruffian. Because, despite all of that, there was something about

Randi that she liked. Yes, it was too damned bad.

76

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Despite the digital camera, there were times when Kim made

the effort to sketch a particularly interesting image on her notepad.

Drawing the glyphs by hand sometimes revealed something new

about them. In this case, it was a large anthromorph wearing

a headdress and carrying an indeterminate object in one hand.

It stood erect with squared off shoulders, a classic design that

appeared on gift shop T-shirts throughout the Southwest.

She sat on a low beach chair at Site B with her sketchpad

propped against her thighs, facing the petroglyph and

concentrating on the smallest of lines. Time and the elements

had stolen some of the detail from the feature, so she wasn’t sure

she was re-creating it faithfully. This image was directly to the

left of a gaping rectangular hole in the surface of the outcrop

77

where someone had stolen a sizable chunk from the panel. At the

moment, there was no way to know if the missing piece made

any meaningful comment on the part that was still there. Kim

was hoping that she could turn up someone with a photograph of

this section taken while it was still intact. According to Randi, this

theft had occurred in 1989. That was secondhand information, of

course, originating with Matt. If anyone had a photo to fill in the

gap for her, she figured it would be him.

It was still morning and still cool. Earlier they had seen a rare

sign of life as a roadrunner sprinted away from their location. It

reminded Kim of the first time she had seen a roadrunner, as a

graduate student on a field trip, and she had been tremendously

disappointed to discover that a skinny, drab bird was the inspiration

for the Looney Tunes cartoon bird with its elaborate plumage and

brilliant coloring. However, subsequent sightings of the birds

had thrilled her because it was unusual to see one. It was unusual

to see any animals in the desert, so their appearance was always

noteworthy. Kim had still never seen a desert tortoise and had seen

bighorn sheep only from great distances.

She was getting used to the quiet here and the long,

uninterrupted days measured only by the lengthening of shadows

on the soil and the darkening shades of purple on the distant

mountains. Every once in a while a squad of fighter jets would

plow through the sky on their way to or from the Marine Corps

Air Station, dramatically shattering the silence. A lizard, in the

characteristic pattern of scurrying and halting, would sometimes

draw her attention away from the work, but there were long

stretches of time where there were no distractions at all. This made

possible the kind of concentration that was nearly impossible back

home. With so many sights and sounds coming at you hour after

hour, it was harder and harder to achieve this kind of focus, even

for a short period of time. She saw that in her students. They had

gotten so used to doing three things at once that they were now

incapable of single-tasking. Kim wasn’t sure if that was good or

bad. They were quick and efficient, but they operated on more of

a surface level than was sometimes desirable.

78

That was why Kim was sketching the petroglyph with a

pencil. The process forced her to slow down and observe it more

carefully, not only observe it, but follow its lines in a manner that

put her in touch with the original artist’s movements, perhaps

even thoughts. It was as close as she could get to the experience

of actually etching the image into the stone.

Ramon, wearing his headphones around his neck, came over

to get a protein bar out of his backpack. He handed one to Kim.

“Thanks,” she said, tearing off the wrapper. “Feels like it’s

going to be hot today.”

“Supposed to be in the nineties.” He sat down in the chair

next to her and looked at her sketch. “Nice.”

She took a bite of the bar, then said, “Have you thought

anymore about becoming an archaeologist?”

“Yes, I have. I’ve been thinking that maybe I could go to the

University of Arizona.”

“That would be a good choice, I think, especially if you want

to continue with the Southwest. It doesn’t hurt to go to school on

location, so to speak. And Tucson’s not that far from home.”

“Maybe. Not too far to come home sometimes for

weekends.”

“That would appeal to your parents, I suppose. Do they like

that idea?”

Ramon looked evasive, then said, “I haven’t told them.”

“Why not?”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

“Have you applied?”

“Not yet. I have the application, though. And some scholarship

and grant applications too. I was wondering if you’d write me a

letter of recommendation.”

He made his last request timidly.

“Of course!” Kim answered. “I’d be happy to.”

Ramon smiled widely, then returned to his work. Kim

finished her snack, then took a swallow from her water bottle just

as the sound of a gunshot rang out. She jumped out of her chair,

knocking her sketchpad to the ground. Ramon spun around, a

79

startled look on his face. Both of them found the source of the

noise simultaneously. An old woman carrying a rifle was walking

rapidly toward them, up over the ridge that separated their work

site from the road. As she neared, Kim saw that she was scowling

fiercely at them under a bare head of snowy-white hair. She wore

boots, faded denim jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt.

“Hold it right there!” she commanded, still about fifty feet

away but quickly closing the distance. “You run and I shoot ya!”

Kim stood planted on the spot, fearing for her life. Were they

being robbed? She caught Ramon’s confused glance, then turned

back to face the old woman who had stopped ten feet away and

was pointing the rifle directly at Ramon.

“I caught you this time,” she said, grimacing. “I already called

the sheriff and now we’re going to wait for him. Sit down, both

of you!”

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” Kim suggested.

“Sit!” the woman commanded.

Kim lowered herself to the ground. Ramon did the same.

“I think she thinks we’re vandals,” he said quietly.

“Damn right!” the woman replied. “You’ve been out here all

morning. You’re trying to steal ’em.”

“No, no,” Kim protested. “Look, we’re taking pictures.” She

pointed to the camera near Ramon. “And drawings.” Kim held

up her sketchpad. “Look for yourself. We haven’t taken so much

as a pebble.”

The old woman scanned the face of the outcrop

suspiciously.

“I’m an archaeologist,” Kim explained. “We’re here on official

business. It’s all above board, really. You can check with BLM if

you want. Let me give you my card.”

Kim opened her wallet with deliberate care as the gun barrel

moved to point in her direction. She took out a card and held it at

arm’s length. The woman inched toward it and snatched it away,

then squinted intensely in an effort to read it.

“Dr. Kimberly Gatlin,” she read. “That you?”

Kim nodded.

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“BLM, you say?” she asked. “They know you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Does Randi know you’re here?”

Randi? Kim thought, hesitating. Why Randi? Why not

Steve? He’s the boss. This irritated Kim because the old woman,

whoever she was, seemed to be buying into Randi’s own notion

that she was in charge of the place. With the gun pointed at

her, she didn’t feel like objecting, though, so she said, “Yes, she

does.”

Holding the rifle in one arm, the old woman pulled a cell

phone out of her shirt pocket and punched a couple of buttons,

her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth. “We’ll see if I

can get through,” she said. “Signal’s weak.”

She put the phone to her ear and, in a minute, yelled into

it, saying, “Randi, Randi, is that you? This is Nellie. I’ve got a

couple of folks out here. Claim you know all about them. An

archaeologist, that’s what she says.” She hesitated and yelled

louder into the phone. “Right, County Road nine. Yeah, we’ll

wait right here for ya.” She slid the phone into her pocket. “She’s

on her way. She said fifteen minutes.”

While they waited, Nellie kept the rifle ready, but was no

longer aiming it at them. The three of them sat and eyed one

another, but did not speak. Kim felt the sun burning into her

neck, so she readjusted her bandana to compensate. Finally, a

dust cloud appeared a couple of miles away and then the familiar

Chevy Tahoe came up the road, disappearing behind the ridge

where it went silent. A moment later Randi’s white hat appeared

at the ridge line, and then she came over it, walking rapidly

toward them. They all stood.

“Whoa, Nellie!” Randi called, waving cheerfully.

Nellie waved back. Randi approached, grinning. Apparently,

she thought this was funny. She walked up to Nellie and hugged

her warmly.

“What have you caught here?” she asked.

“Do you know these two? Is she really an archaeologist?”

“That’s right,” Randi said. “She’s legit.”

81

Nellie looked momentarily disappointed.

“But thanks for keeping such a good eye out,” Randi told her.

“We wouldn’t want to lose any more of these.”

Kim bristled at Randi’s nonchalant attitude. “What right

does she have coming in here and threatening us at gunpoint? If

she had shot us, would you still be just patting her on the back?”

“Nellie knows how to handle a gun,” Randi said. “She

wouldn’t shoot you unless she had a good reason to.”

Nellie nodded in agreement, smugly, it seemed to Kim.

“You mean like if she mistakenly thought we were thieves?”

Kim suggested.

Randi shrugged. She wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

“When the sheriff gets here,” Kim said, “I’m going to file a

complaint.”

“Sheriff?”

“I called,” Nellie said. “Earlier.”

Randi nodded. “I’ll call in and tell them not to bother.”

Randi turned to climb back over the ridge to the road as Kim

stood where she was, angry and indignant.

“Did you hear what I just said?” she called after Randi.

Randi called over her shoulder, “No need to get all riled up,

Tilley. No harm done.”

She continued walking and was soon out of sight.

“Sorry,” Nellie said to Kim, looking like a recalcitrant child

and deflating Kim’s indignation.

“That’s okay,” she said. “So who appointed you guardian of

this place anyway?”

“These were my ancestors,” Nellie said, strolling over to the

rock art. “My name is Nellie WhiteOwl. My ma was full-blooded

Tohono O’odham. I’ve lived here all my life and my people have

lived here for a thousand years. This is a sacred place.”

“You know this site well, then?” Kim asked.

“Sure.”

“What about this?” Kim approached the rock wall and

pointed to the missing panel. “What was there? Do you know?”

Nellie nodded. “Too bad I wasn’t out here that day. Whoever

82

took that wouldn’t have been walking away from here on two

legs, I can guarantee you.”

“Do you have a photograph?”

“No. I remember it, though.”

“Do you think you could draw it?”

Nellie shrugged. “Maybe so.”

Kim gave Nellie her sketchpad, turning over to a blank page.

“I’d appreciate it,” she said.

Nellie sat in Kim’s beach chair and proceeded to sketch. Randi

returned, announcing that the sheriff had gone back to town. She

looked over at Nellie, who was hunched over the paper, intent on

her task.

“What’s she doing?” Randi asked.

“Drawing the missing panel.”

“Really? That ought to be interesting. So I guess you two

have made peace, then.”

“I guess. But I don’t think you should be so casual about

lunatics running around the desert pointing loaded guns at

people.”

“She’s not a lunatic.”

“Nevertheless—”

“That’s just the way it is out here,” Randi said. “This isn’t the

city, Tilley. There’s too much land, too few people. Anybody living

out here has to be able to look out for herself...and whatever she

considers her own.”

“Does she live out here?”

“She has a ranch about three miles down the road. She has

some chickens and a bunch of burros she’s adopted through our

wild horse and burro program.”

“Are there wild horses around here?” Kim asked with

interest.

“Not right here, but there’s a herd over by Picacho. Gotta

adopt a few out periodically to make sure the wild ones stay

healthy and have enough to eat. It’s a great program. A lot of 4-

H kids adopt the horses and then break them.”

“I didn’t even know there were wild horses anymore.”

83

“Oh, sure. Mainly on BLM land. It’s an exciting thing to see,

too, a herd of wild horses running across the landscape. Like a

tornado. Nellie doesn’t have any horses, though. She’s partial to

the burros, which is great for us, since the horses are easier to

adopt out. You can’t see it, but one of her burros is hitched up to

a little cart there on the road. That’s how she got here. I guess

you didn’t even see her coming.”

Kim shook her head.

Randi walked over to Nellie and said, “I see you’ve got Tootsie

pulling your cart today.”

“She’s a good little jennie,” Nellie said. “Took no time to

gentle her.”

“Not for you, maybe.” Randi laughed and turned to Kim.

“Nellie here is a burro whisperer.”

Nellie made a dismissive sputter, not unlike a horse.

Randi put a hand on her shoulder. “Adoption day is coming

up next month. You think you want another one?”

“Oh, sure. Always room for one more.”

“Good. I’ll bring an application out for you next week.”

Nellie went back to her drawing and Randi turned to Kim.

“Hey,” she said, “I was looking out for you last night at

Pinkie’s. You didn’t show.”

“No,” Kim said, hesitating while she considered how to

answer. “I decided I couldn’t spare the time. I needed to try to

catch up on some paperwork. There’s more of that than you

might think on a project like this.”

“Oh, that’s the case for all of us nowadays, so, sure, I

understand how it is. You missed a good night, though. There

were a lot of people there.”

Your idea of a good night, Kim thought, is knocking the crap

out of a friend? Unbelievable!

“I’ll see you Saturday anyway,” Randi said. “You wouldn’t

want to miss that.”

Kim forced a smile before Randi turned to walk back to her

truck. Then she stepped over to Nellie to peer over her shoulder

at the sketchpad. She had drawn a string of three anthromorphs

84

similar to the one Kim herself had been copying. All three of

them had their arms thrust skyward in a pose generally assumed

to represent communion with the spirit world. Beside them was

a “ladder” of four concentric circles bisected with a straight line,

a symbol for ascension through the four levels of existence—the

underworlds, the present world and the world of the ascended.

The three shamanistic figures had stood to the right of the one

that was still in place. The thieves had most likely taken advantage

of an existing fracture in the rock face to remove their panel,

which would account for why they left the fourth figure behind.

Kim wondered what had happened to the stolen panel. Was

it decorating someone’s yard? Had it ended up in a museum?

Had it been purchased by some foreign collector and made

its way in a secret transport to a far-off place never conceived

of by any Paleo-Indian? Whatever had happened to it, it had

lost its story by being removed. Even among archaeologists,

the practice of leaving things where they were found was fairly

modern. Unfortunately, archaeologists weren’t the only people

out looking for these things. Petroglyphs had an advantage

against thieves in that they weren’t easily portable, not like a clay

pot, for instance. The missing hunk of rock had to have weighed

hundreds of pounds and taken hours to extract. It would have

required at least two men and maybe a hand truck to transport.

Whoever did this had been determined. And, yes, Kim thought,

too bad Nellie wasn’t out here that day.

When Nellie had finished the drawing, she proudly

surrendered it to Kim, who thanked her, then walked with her out

to the road where a colorful two-wheeled cart stood hitched to a

placid-looking burro wearing a straw hat. The cart was adorned

with a yellow fringed shade, red wooden wheels and geometric

designs.

“Time to go, Toots,” Nellie called to the burro.

She stowed her rifle behind the seat and climbed into the

cart. “Bye, now,” she said as the cart began to move. “Sorry I

scared you.”

Kim waved, watching the cart moving jerkily off so slowly

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that it raised no dust. She stood there for a moment looking at it,

thinking about Randi’s relationship with the locals. Kim’s personal

observations about Randi’s character didn’t seem to warrant the

apparent affection and respect of these people. But there could

be no doubt about how Flynn and Nellie felt about her.

C. Randall was a puzzling woman.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

There was a good-sized crowd at Blair’s ranch, about equally

divided between men and women. Kim could imagine that the

entire gay community of Yuma was here, although she was told

that wasn’t so. There are apparently a lot more of us, she realized,

than one might have guessed by the size of the town. That was

good to see for several reasons, including how easy it was going

to be to avoid Randi.

The ranch house was surrounded by a lush cactus garden, and

behind it the land sloped away gently down to a ravine. There

were lawn chairs set out and some of the guests were building the

foundation for what promised to be an enormous fire. A fifty-five

gallon drum barbecue was already loaded with meat and chilies

and the drinks were flowing. Speakers mounted outside of the

house were blasting out rock music.

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Kim was introduced to a lot of people, too many to remember

names, but she did already know Minnie, Blair and Darlene.

Darlene’s partner, Trina, was also there. And Jeff, the bartender

at Pinkie’s, she knew him. Minnie, Kim noticed, stuck with Randi

just as before, following her around and acting as friendly as

ever. Now that was disgusting, Kim thought, vividly recalling the

image of Minnie sliding across the bar. The woman has no self-

esteem. It was like something you’d see on Cops. How could she

let herself be treated like that?

By the time Kim got her carne asada off the grill and a glass

of chardonnay, the sun was setting. She sat down to watch it

while she ate. The sky was turning pink and orange. Someone lit

the fire, and it gradually took on momentum. It seemed like the

fire was taking its sustenance from the sky. The darker the latter

became, the brighter the former grew.

The music blaring from the house was Cyndi Lauper singing,

“She Bop!”

As Kim ate, she saw Randi approaching. She was wearing

a long-sleeved salmon-colored shirt tucked into slim-cut blue

jeans. No hat tonight. Around her neck was a black leather bolo

tie with a trilobite slide. Now that was unique, Kim thought, and

fitting for a geologist.

“Hey, Tilley, I’m glad to see you made it. It’s a really nice

turnout.”

As Randi started to sit down beside her, Kim stood up, saying,

“Excuse me, I’m going to go get some beans.” She didn’t see how

she could speak to Randi civilly, even if Minnie had forgiven her.

Randi looked confused as Kim turned to walk away.

As she ladled some beans onto her plate, she saw Darlene and

Trina standing nearby, so she joined them.

“Are Randi and Minnie a couple?” she asked.

Darlene shook her head. “No. If Randi wanted them to be,

they would be. But, no, they’re just friends.”

Some kind of abusive friendship, Kim thought disapprovingly.

Poor Minnie is offering love. Gets her nowhere with a woman like

that, except knocked around. Kim talked for a while to Darlene

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and Trina about problem students and problem administrators,

which can be a never-ending source of conversation for teachers.

After that, she got another glass of wine and found a chair in

proximity to the fire. Randi and Minnie were now line dancing in

a group of women, and both of them looked like they were having

a great time. Everything flickered orange in the light from the

fire. Blair came along then and slid into the chair next to Kim.

She was wearing cargo shorts and another low-cut blouse. She

knew her fine points.

“Are you enjoying yourself,” Blair asked, speaking close to

her ear.

“Very much. Thanks for inviting me. You have a really nice

place out here.”

“Thanks. There’s a lot of space and no neighbors, so it makes

a good spot for parties, anyway.” Blair’s freckled cheeks looked

bright red in the firelight.

“So how did you end up in Yuma,” Kim asked.

“I followed my heart. Fell in love with a woman who lived

here. After we broke up, I just stayed. I like it here.”

A surprising number of people do like it here, Kim realized.

From the house, Joan Jett was screaming, “Do You Wanna

Touch Me?” Everybody around the fire was clapping in sync

with the beat and singing along, including Blair and Kim.

As the crowd hollered, “Oh, yeah!” in a communal answer to

Joan Jett’s question, Blair leaned in close to Kim and said, “Oh,

yeah!” softly, next to her ear. Kim, startled, stopped clapping and

turned to look at Blair, who was grinning at her, but then she

looked away and resumed singing, so Kim did the same.

After a couple more songs, the music stopped. In the absence

of competing sound, the fire crackled loudly, flames and sparks

leaping into the sky. Blair went to get herself another beer and

was back in a few seconds with a bottle of white wine, from which

she refilled Kim’s glass.

After a few minutes of silence, Kim heard a guitar and looked

for the source. It was Randi, seated nearly on the other side of

the fire next to Minnie and some others. As she warmed up, the

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crowd began to settle into a quiet, listening audience. And then

there were two guitars. One of the men was also playing. Kim

began to recognize the tune. It was “Wildwood Flower.” Randi

was looking directly at Kim, then she winked, a gesture that Blair

must have noticed.

“What’s going on between you two?” she asked. “Friends?”

“Not really. I mean, I wouldn’t go that far. We’re just

acquaintances. Colleagues. I doubt we would ever be friends.

She’s just not— Nothing in common.”

Blair nodded, approvingly.

Kim noticed that Randi was playing sweetly with no mistakes.

Not drunk yet, anyway, she thought.

“Who’s that guy playing?” she asked.

“That’s Gareth. He’s good, isn’t he?”

“Yes. So is she.”

“Totally,” Blair agreed. “They sound good together.”

They were now playing “Waltzing Matilda.” Kim and

Blair sang along. When the song was over, Randi stood up and

announced, “Breast cancer walk-a-thon next Sunday everybody!

Be there for Callie!” That woman could be really loud when she

wanted to, Kim marveled. “She’s doing great. I stopped by the

hospital on my way here. She sends her love to everyone and will

be here next time, for sure.”

“Who’s Callie?” Kim asked Blair.

“One of our friends,” Blair answered, filling Kim’s glass. “She

just had a mastectomy. She’ll be in the hospital for a couple more

days.”

As Randi started playing “ Ghost Riders in the Sky,” Kim

reflected that she absolutely did not understand Randi. On the

one hand, she seemed like a responsible, mature individual. She

was concerned about Black Point, concerned about her miners,

had a sense of community that was strong enough to alienate

her from newcomers. And yet, she was rude, hostile, even violent

toward her friends. As Kim watched Randi interact with people,

though, she saw no evidence that anyone had anything but affection

for her.

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“What’s Randi’s real first name?” Kim asked.

“I think it’s Claudine. Don’t tell her I told you that or she’ll

kill me. And if you call her that, she’ll kill you.”

Kim giggled, imagining springing that on Randi.

“I’m serious,” Blair said, also giggling, slipping her arm

around Kim’s shoulders, and touching their heads together.

“Don’t tell her.”

Kim and Blair gave up singing after that, except for the

occasional easy chorus. Blair sat close to Kim, their thighs pressed

together, keeping her glass full. Kim was feeling very hot despite

the cool evening that had descended around them. Staring at

Blair’s mouth, she was suddenly startled to hear another voice.

Turning, she saw Minnie standing in front of them.

“Blair,” she said, “we’re taking up a collection for Callie, to

get her a gift for when she goes home. We were thinking of one

of those gourmet food baskets from—”

“Okay, okay,” Blair said impatiently, making a shooing gesture.

“Great idea. I’ll give you the money tomorrow.”

Minnie frowned and moved away.

“You got a girlfriend back home?” Blair asked, turning her

attention back to Kim.

“Nope,” Kim answered. “Not a one.”

“That’s good.” Blair rested her hand on Kim’s knee, and then

they both laughed.

Kim stared into the plunging neckline of Blair’s blouse at her

smooth, creamy breasts, thinking they looked like meringue on a

lemon pie, and wanting to lick it off. It was with that thought that

she knew she’d had too much wine. In fact, the bottle standing

on the ground next to her chair was nearly empty. Kim wondered

if it was possible that she’d drunk all of that by herself, not to

mention the two glasses she’d had before that. She didn’t think

she’d drank that much wine since her first year in college.

“Maybe I should go home,” Kim suggested, attempting to

sound controlled. She heard the slurring in her voice with dismay.

“Honey,” Blair said, “you’re drunk. You’re not driving yourself

home tonight.”

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“No,” Kim agreed. “I shouldn’t drive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m prepared.” Blair didn’t sound all that sober

herself. “I’ve got a room for you. You can stay here. I’ve got a few

spending the night. For everybody who stays over, there’ll be a

big pancake breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“Really?” Kim asked. “I love pancakes.”

“Well, sure you do. Come on. Let me show you your room.

In the morning, after breakfast, you can drive yourself home.

How’s that?”

“Sounds good,” Kim said, thinking about pancakes.

Blair stood up first, then helped Kim to her feet, holding her

firmly around the waist as they stumbled into the house. Inside,

Blair led the way down a hallway to a bedroom at the end, a large

room with a king-sized bed piled up with pillows in gold and

brown satin fabrics.

“How’s this?” Blair asked her, kicking the door shut and

silencing the sound of guitars and singing outside.

Kim, ready to collapse, stepped over to the bed and crawled

onto it, lying with her face in the pillows, her eyes closed. Any

minute, she would be asleep, she knew.

“Hey, honey,” Blair said, “don’t pass out on me just yet.”

Blair rolled her over onto her back and was lying beside her.

Kim looked at Blair’s cute, freckled nose and flushed cheeks. She’s

going to kiss me, Kim thought, and, sure enough, she did. Blair’s

lips were soft and seductive. Blair moved on top of Kim and

kissed her again, deep and hard. Feeling aroused and forgetting

about sleep, Kim kissed her back, their mouths locked tightly

together.

“Ummm,” Blair said, releasing Kim’s mouth.

Kim pressed her face into Blair’s chest, running her tongue

over the exposed curve of her breasts and down between them,

into the dark groove of her deep cleavage.

“That’s more like it,” Blair breathed, rapidly undoing the top

three buttons on Kim’s shirt.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Watching Blair drag Kim into the house, Randi felt herself

becoming angry. Almost without realizing it, she stopped playing

her guitar and let her hand fall to her knee, staring at the door

they had gone through.

“What’s the matter?” Minnie asked.

Gareth continued playing the song on his own as Randi

propped her guitar against her chair and stood. “I can’t let her

get away with this.”

“Are you talking about Blair? Looks like she’s got that

archaeologist right where she wants her, huh?”

“I’m going to stop her.”

“What? Are you serious? Leave it alone. It’s none of your

business.”

Minnie was right, of course, but Randi didn’t seem to be able

to help herself. Even after Kim had pointedly snubbed her, she

had been watching her all evening, watching Blair’s methodical

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seduction of her, and becoming more and more distressed. She

had tried several times to ignore the two of them, but it had been

no good.

“I just have to, Min.”

Why, she asked herself, striding rapidly across the yard, why

am I butting in here? Because she’s drunk, she answered. Because

Blair is taking advantage of her. Because she’ll be sorry in the

morning, especially if there’s a woman back home trusting her.

Once inside the house, Randi moved quickly down the

hallway toward Blair’s bedroom, having no doubt where she

would find them. Flinging open the door, she saw Kim lying on

her back with Blair straddling her, undoing the buttons on her

shirt. As Randi stepped into the room, Blair sprang off the bed,

looking startled and indignant.

“What are you doing?” Randi asked her.

“Nothing,” Blair said, defiantly. “Just offering Kim a place to

stay for the night. She can’t drive in her condition. I’m going to

let her sleep here.”

“But this is your room.”

“We’re going to have pancakes in the morning,” Kim

announced, rolling onto her side. Her unbuttoned shirt fell open,

revealing a lacy pink bra. “Are you staying too, Randi?”

“I’ll take her home,” Randi told Blair.

“No need,” Blair objected. “You just go back to the party.

Everything’s under control here.”

“Yeah,” Randi replied sarcastically. “I’m sure.”

Kim sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“I’m taking you home, Tilley,” Randi said, pulling Kim to

her feet. Kim’s body was compliant as Randi clamped a firm arm

around her waist.

“What right do you have barging into my bedroom,” Blair

asked, “and telling us what to do?”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” Randi said sternly. “If she

wants to come back when she’s sober, she’s all yours.”

Randi paused, momentarily distracted by the soft curve

of Kim’s breasts above her bra. She let her eyes feast on this

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delicious view for a couple of heartbeats. Bringing herself back to

the moment, Randi carefully buttoned Kim’s shirt, observing the

goofy smile on her face. She then pulled her out of the bedroom

and down the hall at a pace too rapid for Kim to manage. But

it didn’t matter because Randi was barely allowing her feet to

touch the floor. She felt a sense of urgency to get her out of

Blair’s grasp before either of them gathered their wits enough to

form a coherent objection.

“What the hell?” was all Blair could come up with.

She followed, looking confused and angry, but didn’t make

any physical move against Randi.

“Does this mean I won’t get pancakes?” Kim asked when

Randi stopped to open the door.

“Where are your keys?” Randi asked her. Kim reached into

her front pocket and pulled out her car keys, handing them over.

Minnie met them as they emerged from the house.

“Take my truck,” Randi said, handing her own keys to Minnie.

“Follow me. I’m driving her home.”

Minnie nodded. Randi put Kim into the passenger seat of her

pickup while Blair stood watching, her lips held tightly together

in frustration.

The bonfire was dwindling, and as they drove away, it became

the only thing Randi could see of Blair’s ranch, the twinkling

flames in the darkness. Once she hit the paved road, Randi took a

deep breath, feeling as if she’d been holding it during the entire

abduction. That was the word that came to her mind, abduction.

Kim didn’t seem unhappy, though, so perhaps “rescue” was the

right word after all.

“Where’s your hat?” Kim asked, slurring her words. “I like

you in your hat.”

Randi didn’t answer, noting that Kim was much more friendly

toward her now than she had been earlier in the evening. Booze

makes friends out of everybody.

“Not very talkative tonight, are you, Claudine.”

Randi snapped her head sideways to see Kim looking pleased

with herself. Although she wanted to ask who gave her that tidbit

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of information, she decided to remain silent and turned her

attention back to the road.

Kim seemed to slump in her seat after that, and there were

no more attempts at conversation.

At last, they pulled into the RV park. “Where’s your space?”

Randi asked.

Kim pointed to the left. “Up the next corner.”

After parking, Randi came around to open the door. Kim slid

out of the pickup, wrapping her arms around Randi’s neck. Randi

kicked the car door shut and swung Kim over to her hip, then

walked her to her door, fumbling momentarily with the keys. She

pushed the door open to the trailer’s dark interior. Once she’d

gotten both of them inside, she released her hold.

“Can you turn on a light?” Randi asked, running a hand along

the door frame looking for a switch.

She felt Kim’s arms slide around her neck again and the

increasing pressure of her body as Kim pressed herself closer,

pinning Randi against the wall. “Kiss me,” she said.

She’s trying to drive me nuts, Randi thought, struggling

against her desire to comply. Though it was too dark to see, she

could tell Kim’s mouth was close to hers. There was a strong

smell of alcohol on her breath. That was definitely a turnoff. Still,

standing in the dark with their bodies touching, she couldn’t deny

the urge she felt to do more than just kiss Kim.

Randi heard the engine of her own truck arrive outside,

reminding her why she was here.

“You sure are easy when you’re drunk,” she said, pushing

Kim gently away.

Randi managed to find a light switch, then, and they were no

longer in the dark. Kim stood smiling inanely at her.

“I’m putting your keys here on the table,” Randi said. “You

go to bed.”

Randi shut the door between them as she hurried out and

climbed behind the wheel of her pickup. Minnie had already

moved to the passenger seat.

“Is she okay?” Minnie asked.

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“She’s fine.”

“Blair is so pissed at you.”

“No surprise there.”

Randi drove away from the trailer park, still feeling the

sensation of Kim’s body against hers.

“I still don’t understand why you did that?” Minnie said.

“Especially since you don’t even like that woman. Stuck-up,

know-it-all bitch, that’s what you called her.”

Randi winced at hearing that. “I may have been a little

hasty.”

“So, what, you mean you like her now? What did she do to

change your mind?”

“Nothing, really. I barely know her. But even if she is a stuck-

up, know-it-all bitch, she’s our guest in town. We should be

decent hosts.”

“Yeah, and it’s just like you, Randi, to assume responsibility

for the whole damn town.”

Randi’s feelings toward Kim had definitely changed since her

arrival. The reasons weren’t all that easy to explain. The other

day when she had walked up on Kim sitting in the dirt with a

small chip of obsidian in her hand, she’d been surprised that Kim

hadn’t heard her approach. She sat there, covered with dirt, her

hair a mess, a glob of white sunblock on her nose, transfixed by

a sliver of glass that few people would have even noticed. When

she had finally seen Randi there, she had handed over the glass as

if it were an object of great importance, as if it were something

precious. And on Kim’s face there had been a look of child-like

delight.

Randi knew right then that Kim was the real thing, after all.

She wasn’t just in it for what she could get out of it. She really

felt it, the worth of what she was doing. After that, she could no

longer dismiss her as a lightweight. And once Randi’s professional

objections to Kim were gone, her personal attraction had begun

to assert itself.

She didn’t feel like she could tell any of this to Minnie. For

one thing, Minnie would be jealous, even though it had been

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quite a while now since Randi had gotten the point across that

the two of them would never be a couple. Minnie was a great

friend, and Randi had been more in need of friends when she

arrived in Yuma than lovers. Minnie was, in fact, her best friend.

There was no reason to hurt her feelings by talking about some

vague attraction to another woman, especially since it would

never lead to anything.

When they arrived at Minnie’s house, Randi said, “I hope

that stuck-up, know-it-all bitch appreciates what I did for her

tonight.”

Minnie laughed and said good-night, disappearing into her

house.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Predictably, when Kim woke in the morning, her head was

splitting, her mouth was dry and she was still wearing the clothes

she’d worn the night before. She got up to go to the bathroom,

drank a glass of water, and decided to lie down again. Details of

the previous evening gradually drifted into her consciousness—

the spectacular bonfire, singing folk songs, kissing Blair. Randi

taking her home. How had Randi ended up in Blair’s bedroom?

And why did she drag her out of Blair’s bed? Just doing a good

deed, maybe, like a Boy Scout. Or the Lone Ranger. Yes, definitely

more like the Lone Ranger with that white hat.

And then she remembered being home, clinging to Randi

in the dark while Randi tried to escape as fast as she could. How

humiliating!

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Kim lay in bed with her eyes closed for at least an hour,

drifting in and out of sleep, until she heard a vehicle stop outside.

A moment later there was a firm knock on her aluminum door.

“Hey, Tilley,” called a familiar voice.

Oh, great, Kim thought, rolling out of bed. I’m sure I look

like shit. She opened the door to Randi, who came in carrying a

Styrofoam box and a large cup of coffee. She set these on the table.

“Good morning,” Randi said, taking off her hat. “Feel like

crap, I imagine. I brought you breakfast.” Randi opened the box

to reveal a stack of pancakes. “Since you seemed more upset

about losing out to pancakes than you did about losing out to

Blair last night.”

Kim took the coffee, sat on the bed, and sipped at it tentatively.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” she said, “considering how much

trouble I caused you last night.”

Randi sat on the sofa across the table. “Yeah, you were a

handful, all right.”

“I’m really sorry. I don’t drink much. I’m not used to it. I

don’t know why I did that.”

“You had a lot of encouragement.”

“Blair?”

Randi nodded. “You were just too tempting a morsel for her

to pass up.”

Kim drank the coffee while Randi sat across from her, a sly,

slight smile on her lips.

“You probably don’t feel like eating right now,” she said, “but

later, just pop those in the microwave for a couple of seconds and

they’ll be fine.”

“Thanks. I will.” Kim was already feeling a little better, but

the headache was still piercing through her left temple. She was

definitely relieved at Randi’s demeanor, which appeared friendly

and relaxed, not at all reproachful.

“Are you going to show me your place?” Randi asked. “I

didn’t really see it last night.”

Kim laughed. “What you see...” she said, twirling her arm

over her head.

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Randi got up and looked around the kitchen, pausing at the

photos on the refrigerator. “Not your kids, I’m guessing.”

“Niece and nephews. My sister’s.”

“And this?” she asked, indicating a slip of paper containing

one of Kim’s favorite quotations. “Try reasoning with a rhino,

end up dead.” Randi huffed. “Sounds familiar. That’s Catherine

Gardiner. From her poem about failed relationships. I mean one

of her poems about failed relationships. She has many.”

“You know it?” Kim was surprised.

“Yeah. I really like her. Why that quote?”

“It reminds me that there’s a right solution and many wrong

solutions to each problem, that you have to think it through before

you know how to tackle it. Like, despite the first inclination of a

geologist, a rock hammer is not the right tool for every task.”

Randi laughed, then abruptly stopped. “Oh, you’re not

joking, are you?”

Kim laughed, then, realizing that Randi was joking. The self-

knowing smile was very attractive.

“I have to admit I know nothing about Catherine Gardiner,”

Kim said. “That was just a line I stumbled on.”

“So what poets do you like?”

“Oh, you know, the usual, I suppose. Emily Dickinson.”

“You like her?” Randi looked uncertain.

“Sure. Don’t you?”

“Personally, I think she’s a little sing-songy and her

preoccupation with death and the afterlife is irritating. Every

other poem is longing for death or an ode to it. On and on,

interminably, death, death, death.”

Startled at Randi’s words, Kim just stared at her.

“I mean,” Randi continued, “if you’re going to be a poet

obsessed with death, the least you could do is kill yourself, like

Anne Sexton or Sylvia Plath.”

“What a horrible thing to say!” Kim said, acknowledging

privately that Randi knew more than she would have guessed

about poetry.

“Sure, suicide is horrible, but as a poetic gesture, it has a sort

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of elegance that can’t be beat.”

“Perhaps,” Kim said, “but it isn’t just a poetic gesture, of

course. I mean, I know what you’re saying, but they weren’t just

poets. They were people with families and they should have been

prescribed Prozac or something.”

Randi nodded. “You have a point. But if they had been, we

would have been robbed of some stunning verse. Dickinson was

a literary genius, just not to my taste.”

Kim drank her coffee, thinking about Randi’s knowledge of

poetry and the fact that few people outside of academia had the

confidence to criticize the iconic Emily Dickinson.

Randi leaned casually against the counter. “She was a product

of her time. A woman of tremendous passion, looking for a way

to express it. She found this outlet, the poetry, but even there she

held back. She used poetry as a device to transform her intense

emotions into something she could handle, I think. It was her

way of coping.”

“Coping with?” asked Kim.

“Living in Victorian New England with the restrictions of

being a thinking woman in a man’s world.”

Kim just nodded, not really up to this conversation in her

condition.

“I’d like to think that if Emily Dickinson were alive today,”

Randi continued, “she’d have been out there with us last night

singing ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone.’ Then maybe she

and one of the girls could have enjoyed a sizzling night of pleasure,

and in the morning she wouldn’t have had a single rhyme in her

head. Can’t you just see her with her long hair all loose on a

pillow and those intense eyes looking up at some girl?”

Kim laughed loudly. “The image that brings to mind is just

too funny.”

“Yes,” agreed Randi, laughing too. Her eyes sparkled as she

did so, crinkling up around the edges, making her look cuter than

ever.“Why do you know so much about poetry?” Kim asked.

“Believe it or not, my first year of college I debated between

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English and geology as a major. Science won out, but only for

practical reasons. I’ve always loved literature.”

Interesting, thought Kim.

“I prefer Sylvia Plath because she’s fearless. Her material is

honest and ruthless.”

“I guess I see what you mean. There’s no real edge to

Dickinson.”

“Exactly,” Randi said, smiling with approval.

Isn’t this odd? Kim thought. The geologist and the

archaeologist are discussing poetry. After a moment of silence

and another gulp of coffee, she asked, “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Come to my rescue last night.”

Randi hesitated before answering. “I’ve seen people do a lot

of stupid things when they’re drinking. I’ve done a lot of stupid

things myself. I thought Blair was way out of line. I couldn’t stand

by— I don’t know. Just did.”

Kim thought of Randi throwing Minnie down the bar. Is that

the kind of thing she was referring to as “stupid”?

“You drove me home,” Kim began. “You were sober?”

“Yes. I don’t drink. Not anymore, not at all.”

“But I saw you the other day with a drink at Pinkie’s.”

“Just a Coke. I haven’t had a drink in four years.”

“Oh, I see.” So she didn’t even have that excuse. “That must

have made me seem really unpleasant last night.”

“Yep,” agreed Randi. “You were extremely unappealing. At

least to me. Obviously not to Blair.”

Kim suddenly remembered asking Randi to kiss her. God, she

thought, what must she have thought of that, especially since she

finds me “extremely unappealing.” Kim took a deep breath. “I

guess I should say thank you. Not quite the impression I wanted

to give to the community my first time out.”

“Don’t worry about it. Most of them wouldn’t have noticed.

You didn’t dance naked around the fire or anything.”

“But you noticed.”

“Yeah, but I was watching.”

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She was looking out for me, Kim thought. Like her

petroglyphs and her miners. I’m a responsibility to her, like a kid

sister. Maybe she thought she was the lesbian etiquette police or

something.

“Why?” Kim asked. “You’re not responsible for me. I can

take care of myself.”

“Oh?” Randi raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t look like it last

night.”

There was that arrogance again. In fact, thought Kim, Randi’s

behavior last night was about as arrogant as anyone could be. All

of the sudden, seeing that self-satisfied grin on Randi’s face, Kim

started to get angry. “It’s not like I was asking to be rescued. You

just busted in and dragged me out of there like a Neanderthal

claiming your property.”

Randi looked unpleasantly surprised at Kim’s change of tone.

“You would have preferred to have been left alone?”

“Well, I—” Kim sputtered. “How would you know what I

preferred? You didn’t ask. Blair was right. You had no business

barging in there like that.”

Randi nodded thoughtfully, frowning now. “Sorry I ruined

your fun. I thought you were too drunk to know what you were

doing. Apparently, I was wrong.”

Randi pushed her hat on and was out the door in a second.

Kim listened to her drive away, feeling stupid. Of course she

was glad that Randi had intervened. She had been drunk out of

her mind. If only Randi was not so pleased with herself all the

time. That characteristic really grated on Kim. A little humility

would be a terrific addition to her personality.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Randi didn’t really know why, when other people got drunk,

she felt compelled to go to an AA meeting, but it was inevitable

that she did. So Sunday evening she spent an hour listening

to stories of broken homes, shattered dreams and the slow,

successful steps back toward sobriety and good health from those

like herself who had once let their lives be ruled by alcohol. She

didn’t believe that Kim was one of these. If she were an alcoholic,

she would have had more control. She’d be used to being drunk.

She obviously wasn’t.

Alma was here tonight. She thanked Randi for helping her

out with the rent and the side jobs Randi had arranged for her.

“Haven’t had a drink since,” she said.

Randi hugged her warmly and said hello to several of the

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others before taking a seat next to Gareth. During the meeting,

her mind strayed from the speakers’ stories to wander over events

of the last twenty-four hours.

All day long, ever since leaving Kim’s trailer, Randi had been

asking herself the same question that Kim had asked her. Why

had she butted in and stopped Blair? It wasn’t a moral imperative.

Blair wasn’t going to murder her, for Christ’s sake. They were

both adults. But for some reason, as Randi had watched Blair

with her hands all over Kim, keeping her wineglass full, she had

become enraged. It was likely that Kim had someone back home

who was trusting her, for one thing. “But, honey, I was drunk,”

was not an excuse, as Randi knew well. It wasn’t an excuse for

anything, really.

So maybe it was just her natural inclination to be protective

that had taken over. Randi didn’t want it to be more than that,

for several reasons, even if Kim was single. She wasn’t ready

to open up her heart again. Things were working for her here,

working better than expected. A change as drastic as falling in

love was too great a risk. It could throw her completely out of

control. She couldn’t predict what would happen and how she

would react. So far, here in Yuma, she had weathered whatever

had come her way, but she always felt she was just one tiny step

away from completely unraveling. Even if she wasn’t that shaky,

she didn’t want to test her resiliency, not yet. She couldn’t afford

a distraction. Kim was definitely a distraction.

Tonight people were talking about their greatest fears. Gareth

was speaking, his hands clasped between his knees.

“I’m scared that I’m going to lose my kid,” he said. “Lose

his respect or lose access to him. He’s the most precious thing in

the world to me, but the fact is that there’s less of a threat to our

relationship from homosexuality than from alcohol.”

When Gareth had finished, Randi said, “I have something

to say.”

Gareth turned to smile at her and she squeezed his hand

tightly before speaking.

“For a long time my greatest fear was that I’d kill somebody.”

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She saw a couple of the others nod. “In a car accident or because

of a drunken rage or something. I once shot off a gun in a

crowd. I was out of my mind. It was dumb luck that I didn’t hit

somebody. The worst would be a child, killing a child. You’d

never recover from something like that. You couldn’t forgive

yourself. But anybody, really. Killing someone or even failing to

save someone’s life because you had too much to drink... That’s

just terrifying. I have that nightmare all the time. Still. That fear

has never left me.”

After the meeting, Gareth approached her and said, “Did you

get your friend home safely last night?”

My friend? thought Randi ironically. “Yes. She spent the day

recuperating.”

“Will I see you at Pinkie’s later?”

“No, not tonight. I’m planning on a quiet evening at home.”

A quiet evening at home was exactly what Randi was looking

forward to, just her and Breeze and the television.

Driving up to her house, she saw a car parked at the curb,

a green Jetta with a conspicuous dent in the front driver’s side

fender. She didn’t recognize the car and decided it belonged to

someone visiting a neighbor. But as she stepped out of her truck,

she saw a woman standing on her walkway.

As Randi took a step, the floodlight over her garage door

came on, casting a sheet of light over the front yard. Her visitor,

she saw, was her old friend Danya from Phoenix. Danya smiled as

the light hit her face, displaying a gaunt, tired visage that matched

her gangly frame. Danya had always been thin, not lithe and

graceful, but lean and scruffy like an alley cat. Randi hadn’t seen

her since leaving Phoenix. Her appearance here was a complete

surprise, one that filled Randi with apprehension.

“Hey, Rocky, is that you?” she called as Randi approached

her, using an old nickname common among her drinking

buddies. She hadn’t heard it for two years. Nobody here in Yuma

knew about that nickname and she wanted to keep it that way. It

was a name she had earned in college because she was a geology

major. But, later, with the bar crowd, a lot of people thought it

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had something to do with her left jab. She didn’t particularly

want to be reminded of that. The AA rule flitted through her

mind about getting away from the people who were part of the

destructive lifestyle. Danya definitely was one of those, one of

three or four good buddies who could always be counted on to

keep her company in the bar. So this was probably bad news,

after all, Danya turning up like this, trespassing on Randi’s new,

sober life.

“Danya,” Randi said, reaching out to give her a hug. “What

are you doing in Yuma?”

“I’ve come to visit an old friend,” she said. Then she laughed

awkwardly, as if she’d made a joke. “You, of course! Hey, what’s

with the long hair and the braid?”

“Just wanted something different. How’d you find me?”

Randi wondered if that sounded rude.

“You’re in the fucking phone book.”

“Oh, right.”

Randi led Danya into the house and switched on lights,

greeting Breeze and introducing him to her guest. Danya stood

turning in circles in the front room, taking it all in.

“Wow, this is nice!”

“Thank you. I’m pretty happy here.”

“Are you renting?” Danya asked as she wandered into the

kitchen.

“No, no, I bought it. I’ve got a big old honking mortgage

payment and everything.”

Danya looked at her and nodded appreciatively. “That college

education paid off, then, didn’t it?”

Randi led Danya through the kitchen to the sunroom. Since

it was dark out, she couldn’t see the view, but she whistled low at

the room itself. “You work for the government, right?”

“Right. BLM. I’m the district geologist here.”

“Cool!”

Randi felt impatient and slightly invaded. “So, Danya, what

are you doing here?”

Danya, who was fingering a quartz crystal on Randi’s rock

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shelf, turned and looked at her with a questioning expression. “I

told you, I came to visit you.”

“I know, but why? Why now? Why come without calling?”

“Oh, you know me. I’m not much for planning things. Just

got a bug and thought I’d visit an old friend. So here I am. That’s

okay, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” Randi said, not sure if it was okay. Danya sounded

very matter-of-fact, but Randi didn’t trust her. Their friendship

went way back, so she knew what kind of manipulation Danya

was capable of. And there was a current of nervousness running

through her, just under the surface, that made Randi even more

wary.“So how about let’s have dinner and catch up,” Danya

suggested.

Randi relaxed slightly. “Okay. I’ll take you to my favorite

Mexican place.”

“Great. Just show me your bathroom, okay, so I can pee, and,

oh, by the way, do you have a spare bed? Or even the couch would

do me for the night. It’s way too far to drive back to Phoenix

tonight and I really can’t afford a hotel.”

This request would have sounded reasonable to anyone who

didn’t know Danya, but for Randi, it was an alarm going off.

She didn’t know what else to do, though, so she said, “There’s

a very comfortable guest room. You’re welcome to sleep there

tonight.”

A wide smile filled Danya’s face. “Thanks, Rocky, you’re the

best.”

“Danya,” Randi said, “I would rather you didn’t call me that

anymore.”

Danya raised her eyebrows. “Oh, right, because you’re sober.

Not so much for the bar fights now. You’re still sober, right?”

Randi nodded.

“That’s so great... Randi. Or is it Claudine now?”

Randi laughed. “Oh, no, please no! Randi.”

“Okay. I’m so glad to hear that you’re still on the wagon

because I am too.”

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“Really?” Randi was incredulous.

“Yep. Clean as a whistle. Never gonna touch that stuff

again.”

“Wow! That’s fantastic.”

Danya smiled, looking pleased with herself, and turned

toward the hallway and the bathroom. “On the wagon,” meant

that Danya was not going to AA. That wasn’t a phrase they used.

So she must be trying to quit on her own. Randi tried not to let

herself be skeptical of Danya’s attempt at sobriety. People had

been skeptical of her too. Understandably. You had to give people

the benefit of the doubt. So Randi decided to do that for Danya.

After all, they had been the best of friends back then. More than

friends in the beginning.

Randi had met Danya during her freshman year on the

college partying circuit, and within a couple of weeks, they were

lovers. Danya hadn’t been a student, but she worked at one of

the local hangouts where the kids gathered and became one of

the regulars in Randi’s crowd. Their relationship spanned many

years, not as an exclusive one, for they broke up regularly and

they slept together even when they weren’t officially together.

It was all about the drinking, of course. Randi sometimes

wondered how she had ever managed to get through college at

all considering how many days started out with her head over a

toilet. She had never made the honor roll, not even close. She had

barely scraped by, and after graduation, it was one long summer

party, and suddenly every thought she’d ever had about graduate

school just floated right out of her head. In the couple of years

that followed, whenever she went through a bad patch and lapsed

back into heavy drinking, Danya always turned up again, as if she

could smell Randi’s weakness, as if she thrived on it.

And that was why Irene considered Danya the enemy,

why Danya had been banned from their apartment, and why

Danya’s appearance here was fraught with anxiety for Randi.

Danya personified so many things about herself that Randi

wanted to leave behind, all of the things she was ashamed of—

irresponsibility, infidelity, self-destructiveness. Danya wasn’t

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responsible for those behaviors, but she was an acute reminder.

Randi knew that the persona she projected was confident,

strong, even boastful. That was her public self. That image belied

her self-doubt and regrets about the past and the way she had

disappointed people she cared about, disappointed herself. She

was a better person than that and she was determined to prove

it, even if it took the rest of her life. Danya didn’t know her any

more, despite her certainty that she did, because Randi had left

that person behind for good. Danya probably didn’t believe that.

She probably believed that old Rocky Randall was lurking there

just under the surface and, given a few beers, would jump right out

and start a party. Randi herself wasn’t sure that wouldn’t happen.

To make sure it never did, old Rocky Randall was not going to

get those few beers. Nobody here in Yuma would recognize the

woman that Danya had known so well. Randi didn’t intend to

introduce them to her.

She took Danya out for dinner and listened as she dug up

memories of their youth together. One of the differences between

herself and Danya, Randi noticed, was that Danya didn’t seem

to have any misgivings about those early years. She reminisced

with joyful nostalgia about the old days, about the raucous sing-

a-longs at Pop’s, their favorite hang-out with its retro tunes on its

equally retro jukebox. She seemed happy to remember waking up

in unexpected places like someone’s bed or front lawn or chaise

lounge poolside in an unsuspecting neighbor’s backyard. There

were the times they woke up together too, waking in a haze of

confusion about how this had happened, neither one of them

knowing for sure if they had had sex or not, but suspecting that if

they hadn’t, it was only because they had been incapable of it.

Just such an incident had preceded the first time Irene had

left. Randi had protested fiercely that it was quite possible there

had been no sexual contact at all with Danya that night. Irene said

it didn’t matter, and the fact that Randi couldn’t even tell her for

sure was even more disturbing. Randi had been argumentative at

the time, but now she felt that Irene had been more than justified

in leaving. And she probably shouldn’t have come back.

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But of all of those “good” times that Danya wanted to revisit,

none were as bad as the time that Randi had knocked out Danya’s

two front teeth. She had a bridge now. You couldn’t really tell.

While “Blueberry Hill” had played on the jukebox, Danya and

Randi had drunk beer and played a game of checkers. Oddly, as

drunk as she’d been, that was one night she could recall vividly.

“Do you remember how that got started?” Danya asked.

“Yeah. You were telling me how you had a dream in which

your dead grandmother told you to move to Peru and raise

llamas. So you were going to go. And I said you were a fucking

moron.”

“Yes, you did.” Danya laughed. “We sure did get out of hand

that night.”

“Sure did. Neither one of us was ever allowed in that place

again.”

“Can’t blame Pops. We made a pretty big mess.”

“On each other too.”

“Right.” Danya pointed to her false front teeth. “And your

nose, of course.”

“I was so stupid,” Randi said, touching her nose.

“Both of us were stupid.” Danya directed her thin smile at

Randi and looked thoughtful. “Irene left you after that, didn’t she?”

Randi nodded. “For good that time.”

“I’ve run into her around town a couple of times, but she’s

really cold toward me. Doesn’t talk to me. From what I hear,

though, she’s happy in her new life. Moved on.”

“Yes, I knew that. Me too.”

“No woman here, though, is there?” Danya asked.

“No. I’m busy with my job, both of my jobs. I also teach a

class at the college one night a week.”

“You’re a college professor? Woo-hoo!” Danya slapped the

table, then nodded appreciatively. “Irene would be impressed by

that.”

Randi shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. That’s over.”

Randi tipped up her glass, letting the ice cubes clunk against

her top lip as she finished the last of her soda.

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After a silent moment between them, Danya said, “Maybe we

should get back together.”

Randi couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. That was most

likely her intent. Now there’s a disaster waiting to happen,

thought Randi.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” she said, pulling a couple of bills out

of her front pocket and leaving them on the table as she shoved

her chair back and stood. “Let’s go.”

Danya shrugged and followed Randi to the truck. She

climbed into the passenger seat while the engine turned over. As

Randi shifted into reverse, Danya’s hand slid suggestively across

her thigh. Randi froze.

“It’s okay if you aren’t looking for anything serious,” Danya

said, adopting her bedroom voice. “Maybe we could just fool

around a little. You always did know how to make me purr.”

“Nope,” Randi said, “not going to happen.” Then she lifted

Danya’s hand by the wrist and moved it off her thigh.

“Why not?” Danya asked. “At least neither one of us has

anybody else this time. It would do you good. You seem all tense.

Let me make you feel better.”

“I feel fine. Drop it.”

Is that what she’s here for? Randi wondered, backing out of

her parking space. She had no residual attraction left for Danya.

In fact, those years she was with Irene, even then she was way over

Danya. The couple of times she’d slipped up, that wasn’t due to

any real attraction. That was just a self-destructive dive into the

cesspool of impersonal boozy lust when Danya happened to be

the woman near at hand. And there was definitely no attraction

now, as Danya’s alley cat demeanor had become even more

scruffy and desperate since Randi had seen her last. If Danya

had come here hoping to reignite their romance, she would be

disappointed.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Six kids were working on the diorama today under Randi’s

supervision. One of the girls, Emma, was carefully nestling the

kit fox skull into the sand at an angle of precision an engineer

would have envied. The other kids were planting tufts of deer

grass at irregular intervals. Natalie was sitting at a worktable

drawing a design for the clay pot they were making, a replica

of a Hohokam olla. Kim would like that, Randi thought with an

involuntary smile. And then she frowned, feeling annoyed with

herself. Who cares what Kim likes, she reprimanded herself.

Emma stood, encased behind glass, standing over the

partially buried skull, looking triumphant. She waited for Randi’s

declaration. Randi gave her a thumbs-up. The girl broke into a

big smile and then proceeded to back out of the case, covering

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her footprints as she went.

“Ten minutes, people!” Randi told them. “Let’s start cleaning

up.”Emma stood beside Randi looking at the tiny skull through

the glass.

“What do you think?” Randi asked her.

“I think it’s perfect,” she said in the adult manner she

customarily took with Randi, as though they were colleagues.

“Sure is. It’s one of those things you won’t see right away,

but if you stand here awhile, you’ll start to see all of these details.

That’s what we’re aiming for, something like the real desert

where there’s a lot going on, but you don’t notice unless you’re

paying close attention.”

Randi became aware of an adult presence nearby and turned

to address her, thinking it was the class teacher. But it was Kim,

standing a few paces away, watching the activity. As Randi caught

her eye, she smiled tentatively.

“It’s coming along great,” Kim said.

“Randi!” called Natalie.

Randi walked over to look at Natalie’s drawing. It was a series

of rust-colored diagonal zigzags that faithfully imitated a jar they

had photographed in a museum.

“Beautiful job!” Randi said.

“Can I see it?” Kim asked.

Natalie nodded vigorously and moved aside so Kim could

stand directly in front of the drawing. “It’s for a pot,” Natalie told

her.“Hohokam red-on-buff,” Kim said.

“Yes!” Natalie sounded surprised. “You know.”

Kim held a hand out to Natalie. “I’m Kim,” she said.

Natalie shook her hand. “I’m Natalie.”

“I’m very familiar with these pots, Natalie. I actually have a

couple of them in my house.”

“Really? So, can you give me some tips, then?”

“No, I don’t think I can. Your design is flawless. This is going

to be an exciting artifact.”

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“After we paint it, we’re going to put it in a fire and everything

to get soot all over it.”

Kim nodded. “Exactly right. Randi knows how it’s done.”

Kim turned to look at Randi then. Looking into her eyes

with their slight, characteristic squint, Randi felt the residual

anger from Sunday draining out of her.

“Okay, kids,” Randi said, “let’s go.”

After they had all filed out the door into the custody of their

teacher, she returned to Kim, who stood waiting in front of the

diorama.

“Randi,” Kim began, “I want to apologize for the way I acted

Sunday. It was stupid and I didn’t mean it.”

“Okay,” Randi said, softening even more.

“I’m grateful that you intervened with Blair. Obviously, I was

incapacitated and needed the help.”

“No hard feelings,” Randi said, thankful for Kim’s change

of heart. For the first time, she seemed vulnerable. Randi always

responded positively to that. Kim looked really cute today, she

thought, remembering how she had pressed herself against Randi

and demanded a kiss. Sloppy drunk, she had not been the least bit

kissable, but today, sober and apologetic, smiling with an edge of

timidity, Kim seemed more attractive than she ever had.

“That makes me feel a lot better, thanks.” Kim sounded

genuinely relieved.

Briefly, Randi considered asking her to dinner. But then she

thought better of it. She didn’t want her to think she was being

asked on a date. And, more importantly, Randi had to resist

thinking that way about Kim. She was an interesting woman, but

she was only in town for a short time, and Randi wasn’t interested

in a short-term relationship. She wasn’t sure that she was ready

for any kind of relationship, but when she was, it would have to

be a serious one. Besides, she thought, there was no reason to

think Kim was interested in her, despite her behavior Saturday

night. Randi knew well how alcohol affected the libido.

Kim was an ambitious academic who held herself above the

place and people that were integral to Randi’s life. Randi was

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sure that she looked down on everyone in Yuma. In her eyes, the

town probably looked squalid and the people seemed pitiable.

No doubt she was anxiously looking forward to the day she could

leave this place behind. If she really knew all about me, Randi

thought, she’d be contemptuous. I’m just another one of the low-

lifes in a low-life town. That’s how she would see it. I definitely

don’t need anybody looking down their nose at me. I’ve done

enough of that myself.

So Randi gave up the idea of dinner. Besides, Danya was

waiting at home for her to provide some evening entertainment.

That was a lot harder to do now than it had been a few years ago.

In the old days, any bar would have provided all the diversion

they required.

“Anything else?” Randi asked.

Kim shook her head. “No. Just that.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

When Randi arrived home, she was surprised to find the

place sparkling clean and smelling of something tomatoey and

cheesy. Danya didn’t cook. At least she never had in all the years

that Randi had known her. But she was in the kitchen peering

into the oven. The dishes were all washed and put away. The

floor had been mopped. The place looked great.

“You’re making dinner?” Randi asked.

Danya beamed as she pulled a large foil tray from the oven,

her hands in quilted mitts. “It’s a frozen lasagna. I remember how

you like Italian food. This is a good one.”

At first Randi felt threatened by this gesture of domesticity.

She didn’t want Danya to make herself at home, to find a role

for herself in Randi’s domain. But she was hungry, the lasagna

looked good, and Danya was just trying to be helpful. She’d been

home all day while Randi was at work. It was no surprise that

she’d done some chores.

“Looks great,” Randi said. “I’ll go change.”

“I’ll set the table.”

As Randi changed out of her uniform and into shorts and a

T-shirt, she felt an old warm feeling of comfort having someone

117

greet her when she came home with a smile and an offer of food.

It had been a long time since she’d been greeted by anyone other

than Breeze. He was an excellent companion, but he had never

produced a lasagna.

118

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Tuesday, while working at Site A, Kim reflected on her latest

conversation with Randi and another failed attempt at friendship.

She was disappointed that Randi seemed anxious to get rid of

her. There was no hint that once the business at hand was taken

care of, there might be any further reason for the two of them to

spend any time together. At least she was consistent. Randi had

never shown the least bit of interest in socializing one on one.

Kim thought again of the Lone Ranger. “Lone” was a big part of

that image, after all.

What difference did it make, anyway? She had now met quite

a few people in this town. It wouldn’t be long before she had

some regulars to dine with. Darlene and Trina, for instance, were

interesting and pleasant to be around. A couple of the others she

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had met at Blair’s ranch, before getting drunk, held out some

potential as friends.

So why am I not convincing myself, she wondered.

Midmorning, Flynn stopped by for a visit, sitting on his rock

to observe. He asked Kim now and then for an explanation of

one of the petroglyphs. He was particularly taken by one of the

more distinctive designs on a boulder detached from the main

outcrop. It was more detailed than most, comprised of several

nested geometric shapes.

“We can’t be sure, of course,” Kim said. “But it might be the

Thunder God. These concentric squares are the eyes, you see,

and the jack-o-lantern style mouth here, full of pointy teeth, that

represents the mountains.”

Flynn knelt in front of the boulder, peering at it. “No kidding?”

“No kidding.”

“How did you figure that out?”

“An interpretation like that comes from seeing a lot of similar

images and from the mythology. Old stories that were passed

down through the generations. They tell us that the Thunder

God lived in the mountains because the people thought the

mountains were the source of rain. So this god was extremely

important.”

“And stingy too,” Flynn said, standing with an audible creak

of his knees.

“Yes!” Kim laughed. “And that may be why this image is

here, an homage to the Thunder God, a way of requesting rain

or saying thank you for it.”

“Never really thought about these much. Just old graffiti, I

thought.”

“In a way, they are. But they’re more than that. Nobody

really knows what these things mean. The idea of the Thunder

God, for example, is just a guess. Usually, I try to avoid forming

any opinions about what they mean because that would get in the

way. I like to just let them speak for themselves.”

He nodded, thoughtfully. “So, if this is a prayer to the Thunder

God, then you could say this place is a kind of temple?”

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“Yes, you could say that. Obviously, it’s a sacred place. But all

of these images are not necessarily spiritual. They could be much

more practical. Like signposts of some sort, marking the way to

a water supply, a food supply, an astrological observance. Some

people think they’re territorial markers. Or they tell a story, like

a historical tableau. Or they could just be doodles. Whatever

they meant to their creators, they’re centuries old, and therefore

very valuable.”

“The older the better,” said Flynn. “Like me, eh?” He winked

at Kim, his gap tooth showing prominently.

She smiled. “Right. The older the better, although there are

two inscriptions from nineteenth-century Europeans. Those are

interesting too, to historians.”

“Show me,” said Flynn, jumping off his rock.

Kim took him around the east side of the outcrop and

indicated where somebody named C. E. Hendy had neatly carved

his name and the date, 1860. A similar inscription in block letters

was nearby, Julius Salvatore, 1879.

“Nineteenth-century graffiti!” Flynn pronounced. “So these

are worth something too?”

“Yes, they’re a record of at least two people who came through

here early on.”

“So, who were those guys?”

“No idea. I haven’t done any research into that. Settlers or

prospectors.”

“Suppose that Hendy guy is the one the wash over there is

named for?” Flynn gestured toward the east.

“I’m assuming that. Maybe he worked a mine over there.

Might have even tried to homestead if he had a crazy streak in

him.”

Flynn grinned knowingly, then returned to his rock where

he remained until the three of them walked back to the road for

lunch.

“We’ve got something for you,” Kim said, retrieving an eight-

by-ten color print from the pickup. It was the best of the photos

Ramon had taken of him. It showed him grinning, his head

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uncovered, his bald spot shining brightly, standing in front of a

symbol-covered panel of the outcrop.

Flynn took it, grimacing with bashful delight.

“I’ll hang this up,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve seen a picture

of myself since I was a kid.”

Flynn left with his photo. After lunch, Kim and Ramon

returned to their methodical routine. Although she had told

Flynn that she tried not to apply an interpretation to the

symbols, it was hard not to speculate to some degree. The

naturalistic images, like birds, people and animals, were obvious,

not so much for why they were there, but at least for what they

represented. The other symbols, though, were the ones that

sent her mind wandering. There were things that looked like

ladders, meandering lines, circles, shields, fish bones, links in a

chain. If these were maps of some sort, a zigzaggy line could be

a boundary or a river. What appeared to be random dots might

be celestial objects, a constellation, for instance, that could be

used for night travelers to orient themselves. These were the

kinds of thoughts Kim allowed herself while cataloguing the

symbols. These speculations, though, didn’t make their way into

the official reports.

This place was full of mysteries. One of the biggest mysteries,

and one that she would not even attempt to answer, was what

had happened to the Hohokam. By 1450, they had disappeared

from the Sonoran Desert, had abandoned their cultural centers

completely. Nobody could really explain that. After more than

a thousand years of living here successfully, their story simply

ended. That was even before the Spanish arrived. There were

several hypotheses, but none of them, alone, was convincing.

That’s the thing about these ancient civilizations, Kim thought,

they left so little of themselves behind. Reconstructing their

history was largely a matter of conjecture, using the few shreds

of evidence there were. These people had no interest in leaving

any clues for some future investigator to find. This rock art, for

instance, wasn’t put here for Kim to translate six hundred years

into the future.

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Modern societies, by comparison, were perpetually thinking

about the legacy of the human race with their time capsules and

written histories and messages broadcast into the furthest reaches

of the galaxy with the hope that someone might someday answer.

It was becoming more and more true that nothing humans ever

did or said would be lost, that every story of every person would

be told and recorded for all time. That impulse extended back in

time as far as human beings could make it go. It was retroactive.

Even now, there were people all over the globe transcribing or

scanning every document ever written, from ancient tax lists to

royal decrees to the last will and testament of an ordinary citizen

who died in a Scottish village in 1622, everything, in fact, that

anyone could lay their hands on.

And she, of course, was doing the same thing right here.

Someone in the fifteenth century had stood in this spot scratching

stone against stone to convey some message to other members of

the tribe. Kim and others like her were attempting to preserve that

message for all time. Why? Whatever the purpose of the message

had been at the time, it was no longer meaningful to anyone. If it

said, for instance, here is the way to California, nobody needed it

anymore. Now they had Interstate 8. But everything she had ever

been taught told her that preserving this message was valuable,

even if, ironically, they never could figure out what the message

was.Some people hypothesized that these symbols were used

in vision quests, that a shaman would draw them or just look

at them to lead him through the spiritual journey. Sometimes

Kim thought that if she stared hard enough at them, they would

somehow come to life and reveal their tale, like a cartoon. The

snakes would slither and the dancers would dance and the deer

would bound out of the scene. But such a thing never happened,

of course, except briefly in her mind.

Kim noticed that she was no longer in the shade, that the

sun’s position had shifted and she would need to move. She

looked up to note the position of the sun. Just there at the edge

of the outcrop was a person, kneeling and facing her. A wave of

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adrenaline surged through her. Staring up, she held her hand to

her forehead to shade her eyes, but the figure was in front of the

sun, so she could see only a profile, no details.

She looked around to see Ramon several feet downslope,

concentrating on his laptop screen. He had his earphones on and

wouldn’t hear her if she called out. She stood up and moved into

the shade so she could get a better look. As she did so, the figure

changed shape, moving from a kneeling to standing position. It

was a girl, she saw, a dark-haired girl of about eleven or twelve.

“Hey,” she called up. “What are you doing here?”

As soon as she spoke, the girl disappeared over the back edge

of the rocks. Kim followed quickly, running around the end of

the outcrop and down into the wash, then up the other side.

The girl was running away from her across the open desert. Kim

ran after her. Her hiking boots, though great for walking in the

desert, were not well suited for this chase.

“Stop!” Kim called.

The girl didn’t slow or turn, but Kim was running faster than

she was, so she kept up pursuit, thinking that she would overtake

her if she could do it before she got winded. As the girl ran up a

slight rise, Kim hit a hole, an animal burrow of some kind, and

flew forward into the ground, her hands slamming hard into the

gravel. She cried out in surprise and pain, looking up to see the

girl halting at the top of the rise, looking back at her for a few

seconds. Then she disappeared over the other side.

“Shit!” Kim exclaimed, wincing and pulling her left hand up

to see that it was scraped and bleeding. Noticing a stabbing pain

in her right leg, she sat up and found that there were several

cactus needles stuck in her shin. The culprit, a large prickly pear,

stood inches away. She carefully moved away from it, then sat

still, looking at her injuries. She pulled tentatively on one of the

cactus spines, which sent a searing pain through her leg. She

immediately stopped tugging. The stinging in her leg seemed to

worsen as the pain in her hand diminished. She finally got to her

feet and scanned the horizon. Nothing stirred.

Then she heard Ramon calling her name, sounding slightly

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panicked. He came into view on the bank of the wash.

“Here!” she hollered, waving. He saw her and started walking

rapidly toward her. She walked toward him as well, limping, since

each step she took caused a series of shooting pains in her leg.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I saw a girl watching us. Just up on top of the outcrop. She

ran and I chased her, but I fell and lost her.” She pointed to the

needles sticking out of her leg. “Hit a cactus.”

Ramon whistled at the sight. “I think there’s a pair of pliers

in the truck,” he said. “We should pull those out. Can you walk

okay?”

“Yes. Just a little painful.”

On the way back to the road, Ramon said, “You saw a girl?

You mean a little girl?”

“Right. About eleven, twelve. When I called to her, she took

off.”“Are you sure you didn’t imagine it? You know how far we

are from any houses. Are you getting overheated?”

It wasn’t that hot, Kim thought, but she had been daydreaming

at the time, thinking about vision quests. Could she have imagined

it? Could she have been chasing a mirage? The girl, from what

she could see, could have been an Indian. She had straight, dark

hair and a round face. Had her mind summoned up some ancient

spirit who had gone through a ceremonial rite of passage here

hundreds of years ago?

Once they reached the truck, Ramon took the lid off the

water jug and instructed Kim to immerse her leg in the water.

“Soften up your skin,” he explained, “so they’ll come out

easier. Usually we use olive oil, but we don’t have any here.”

Kim leaned against the tailgate with one leg in the water jug.

Ramon cleaned her wounded hands, which didn’t look as serious

with the blood and dirt removed. He then applied antiseptic and

a bandage to the left hand, the one that had taken the biggest

hit. He worked silently and methodically, touching her with

unhurried gentleness. Once her hands were tended to, she

removed her leg from the water jug and sat on the tailgate while

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he pulled the spines from her shin with a pair of pliers, extracting

them smoothly and cleanly one by one. She sat with her eyes

closed and her teeth clamped tightly together, determined not

to yelp.

“These aren’t so bad,” Ramon said. “Lucky you didn’t run

into a cholla.”

When the last of the needles was out, Kim sat looking at the

red welts on her leg while Ramon packed up the gear.

He drove home, tuning the radio to his favorite pop station,

while Kim sat looking silently out across the landscape, watching

the dancing heat waves and wondering who or what she had been

chasing.

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“What do you want to do tonight?” Danya asked Randi as

they put the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I thought I’d go to an AA meeting,” Randi said. “Why don’t

you come with me?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Danya shook her head and scowled.

“Why do you still go? You haven’t had a drink in four years.

When are you going to be done with that?”

“Never.” Randi laughed. “It’s an ongoing commitment.”

“But at some point you ought to be able to say, Hooray for

me. I did it! I’m a success.”

“Sure, in a way. I don’t go to the meetings just for me anymore.

There are always new people, the ones who struggle with it every

day. They need the moral support and they need to see examples

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of people who’ve made it through the worst part.”

“Oh, so you’re a role model.” There was a mocking tone in

her voice.

“To some people. Somebody needs to be there for them, to

have faith in them. That’s what did it for me. I couldn’t have

done it without those people, without their trust. Now, it’s just

good reinforcement. As long as I go to meetings, I know I won’t

drink.”

“And that’s another thing,” Danya objected. “What’s the big

deal if you do have a drink? You twelve-steppers act like if you

have one drink, you’ve ruined everything and you have to go

back and start all over again. Why not just have a drink, enjoy it,

and go on being a fine, upstanding citizen? It’s not like one drink

is going to hurt you as long as you don’t let it get out of hand.”

Randi looked at Danya for a moment, realizing how little

she understood about sobriety, Randi’s type of sobriety at least.

“How long since you had a drink?”

“Couple of weeks.”

“What made you stop?”

Danya averted her eyes. “Oh, you know,” she said evasively.

“All the usual reasons. Tired of feeling lousy in the morning.”

There was something that didn’t feel right about this picture.

Danya was hiding something, Randi thought, which wasn’t like

her. “Why don’t you come to a meeting with me,” she said. “See

what it’s like.”

“It’s like going to fucking church. It’s not for me. I’m doing

just fine on my own.”

“Okay,” Randi relented. “This works for me, but it’s not the

only way.”

“Right. It isn’t.” Danya had become defensive.

Randi grabbed their water glasses from the table and placed

them in the top rack of the dishwasher.

“Hey, why don’t we go bowling?” Danya suggested. “I’m no

better at it than I was before, but it was always fun anyway. Maybe

I can even keep the ball in the lane when I’m sober.”

Before Randi could answer, the phone rang. She picked it

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up in the kitchen while Danya finished loading the dishes. It was

Kim.“Hey, Tilley,” she said. “What’s up?”

Randi saw the look of suspicious curiosity on Danya’s face

before she turned to wipe down the sink.

“We had a little incident at the site today,” Kim said. “Ramon

thinks I’m hallucinating, but I saw a girl of about eleven or twelve

out there. She ran and I chased her. Unfortunately, I fell and she

got away.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am now. Ramon had to pull some cactus spines out of my

leg, but I think he got them all.”

“Ouch!”

“Oh, yeah, that put an end to our work day.”

Kim laughed, so Randi laughed too, figuring it was okay.

“Did you see any vehicles out there?” Randi asked.

“No. Nobody came out today.”

“There’s no way a kid could be out there unless she was

seriously lost. She would have had to walk for twenty or more

miles. I can ask the sheriff if there are any reports of missing

children in the county. I haven’t heard of any, though, and

normally we would know about something like that. It would be

a big deal.”

“I didn’t get a great look at her, but she could have been

Indian.”

“Even the closest reservation homes are too far for a kid to

wander. Maybe Ramon’s right. Maybe the glyphs are getting to

you.”“I don’t know. I’ve never been prone to hallucinations.”

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to be. So coolheaded.”

Randi walked into the living room to escape the proximity of

Danya, whose hackles were up. Randi easily recognized that old

look of suspicion.

“Do you think so?” Kim asked, sounding flirtatious. “Do you

think of me as coolheaded?”

“Absolutely. As together as they come. Like a scientist.”

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“That’s good, because that’s what I am. You too.”

“Me too, what? Coolheaded or a scientist?”

“Both.”

She doesn’t know me very well, Randi thought, hasn’t seen

beneath the surface. “Thanks.”

As if she were reminded then to be coolheaded, Randi

returned to her professional mode and asked, “Anything else

going on out there?”

“Did you know that there are a couple of eighteenth-century

names on those rocks?”

“Sure, I knew that. One of them’s Hendy, right?”

“Yes. The same Hendy, I suppose.”

“One and the same. I checked that out a while back. C. E.

Hendy. That’s Charles Edward. There isn’t much information

on him. Just another fortune seeker, I guess, whose name got

stuck on a wash. That would have been sometime before Wolff

came through and made that wash all famous with his buried

treasure.”

“What about Julius Salvatore?”

“Checked him out too. An Italian con artist. He got into

quite a bit of trouble over in California, swindling folks out of

their pocket change. Must have had a big head too because he

carved his name in quite a few places in Nevada, California and

Arizona.”

“Salvatore was here,” Kim said with a pronounced Italian

accent.

Randi laughed, then they said goodbye. Danya was leaning

against the kitchen counter, a pouty look on her face.

“That was a colleague,” Randi said, feeling like she had to

explain. “Just business.”

“Didn’t sound like business. Sounded like you were having a

nice friendly chat.”

Randi cleared her throat, not happy about the irrational

feeling of guilt that was coming over her, then said, “I think we

need to talk. About your plans.”

At that, Danya looked disappointed, as if she had been hoping

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to postpone the reckoning indefinitely. She sat in one of the

kitchen chairs, then asked, “What do you want to talk about?”

“For one thing, when are you going home?”

“Uh, I was hoping to stay here a while. If you want me to pay

you rent—”

“No, that’s not what I’m getting at. You can’t stay here

permanently. When you showed up, it was just for a visit,

remember? You need to go back home.”

Danya gazed silently at the table for a moment, then said,

“I can’t go home. I don’t have a home to go to. I was living with

someone. We broke up. It was her place. I don’t have anywhere

else to go.”

So you came here to be rescued, Randi thought, trying to

steel herself against the puppydog look that Danya gave her.

“What about a job? Don’t you have a job to go back to?”

Danya shook her head.

“Then you’ll need to get one,” Randi said, “unless you’ve

become independently wealthy since we last met.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good one!”

“Get online and search the want ads in Phoenix.” Randi heard

her own voice and thought she sounded stern, like an unhappy

parent.

“What about around here?” Danya asked, looking hopeful.

Randi stiffened, realizing she wanted Danya out of her space.

She didn’t want her staying here, letting the old life seep into

the new life. They needed to remain distinctly separate. “There’s

nothing here for you. Very few opportunities. You’ll have a lot

more options in Phoenix. You can stay here a while longer, but

you’ve got to find yourself a job and get back home. You’re clean

and sober now, so holding a job shouldn’t be the challenge it used

to be.”

Danya smiled, stood, and came over to Randi, kissing her on

the forehead. “Thank you, Rocky. You’ve always been so good to

me. I know I don’t deserve you.”

Randi wasn’t happy with this situation, but the truth was that

Danya wasn’t causing her any real trouble. She wasn’t drinking

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and she wasn’t stealing anything. After the first night, she had

given up the idea of reconnecting romantically with Randi.

At least, she had not made another move like that. Danya was

being unpredictably well behaved. And Randi was enjoying the

company, which surprised her. She’d been alone here for a long

time and had gotten used to it, had thought she preferred it.

Everything was under control, her control. She needed that kind

of control, or thought she did, to keep herself safe. So far, Danya

hadn’t threatened that security, but Randi was wary of her just

the same. In her experience, there was no one more messy and

destructive than Danya. Of course, Randi knew and admitted her

part in that. In a way, she owed her a chance at redemption. If

Randi could make a new life for herself, maybe Danya could too.

If she needed a little help on her way to that new life, why not

help her?

“So,” Randi said, “put on your bowling shoes. Let’s go out

and have some fun.”

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kim and Ramon worked steadily and quietly side by side

for the next day and a half without incident and without seeing

anyone. Each time Kim heard a sound, she looked around, half

expecting to see the mysterious girl again. But there was no sign

of anyone, not even Flynn or Randi.

“Let’s break for lunch,” she said around one o’clock, and they

walked together back to the road. When they got to the truck,

they discovered their lunch tote was missing.

“Are you sure we had it?” she asked Ramon.

“Yes. I remember putting it in this morning. I know it was

here.”

While looking for the lunch tote, Kim realized that their

water can was also gone. They always kept a five-gallon plastic

jug of water in the back and refilled their water bottles from that.

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It was cinched in place with a canvas belt that now lay slack where

the can had been.

“The water’s gone too,” Kim said, trying not to sound as

alarmed as she felt.

“We’ve been robbed!” Ramon stood scanning the landscape

as if he might get a glimpse of the culprit.

There was no other explanation, which meant that there was

someone out here, someone they hadn’t seen who had managed

to slip in, take their things, and slip out again unnoticed. Since

they were a quarter mile from the road, that would not have

been so difficult, but if there had been a vehicle, they would have

known it. The thief had been on foot. Kim inspected the rest of

their belongings, but found nothing else missing. Whoever it was

had only been interested in the most essential of items, food and

water.

“I think we need to get out of here,” Kim said. “Let’s get our

stuff and go back to town.”

After treating Ramon to a restaurant meal, she dropped

him off and swung by BLM to consult with Randi. Once she

explained what had happened, Randi looked worried and said,

“That sounds like a dangerous situation. If there’s somebody out

there desperate enough to steal your food and water, then it may

not be safe for you to be working out there. Tomorrow’s Saturday.

I’ll take Breeze out and we’ll see if we can track them down.”

The next day, Randi picked up Kim in her truck and they

drove out to the site. If there were people nearby, Randi assured

her, Breeze would locate them.

While they were waiting for Breeze to turn something up,

Kim snapped some photos of the emerging wildflowers and a

brilliant blooming ocotillo. Every day now the desert became

more colorful as spring unfolded across the landscape with

swaths of red, yellow, purple and white. She had been waiting for

this. There was nothing like the desert in bloom. She took a few

pictures of Randi as well, a lovely woman sitting on a rock in the

sunshine, one knee tucked under her chin, her eyes shaded by her

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hat brim, appearing to be lost in thought.

Breeze returned at last, ready to lead them to his discovery.

Randi hooked his lead on and then, to Kim’s horror, took a pistol

out of her pack and tucked it into her belt. Kim heard herself

gasp aloud.

“I just want to be prepared,” Randi said. “There are some

dangerous people out here and they’re all carrying guns.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,” Kim suggested, terrified

at the thought of a shoot-out.

“If it looks like there’s going to be trouble, we’ll get out fast.

I’ll call the sheriff.”

They followed Breeze across the open desert for a quarter

mile, further away from the road and the safety of the truck.

He led them to a shallow ravine and an open mine adit, a dark

entrance about three feet high and two feet wide. That’s where

they stopped.

“I know this mine,” whispered Randi. “It’s abandoned.”

“How far in does it go?”

“About thirty feet.” Randi swung her pack off and fished out

a flashlight. Leaving her pack on the ground, she moved toward

the mine opening. “Hello!” she called loudly. “Anybody here?”

There was silence. At the edge of the opening, she sent Breeze

in, letting go of his lead, and then shined the flashlight inside.

From inside the mine, they heard Breeze bark and then they

heard a flurry of Spanish, a woman’s voice. Kim felt the hair

on her arms stand at attention. Randi called Breeze, her voice

urgent, and he came running out of the mine to sit beside her.

She glanced at Kim and pulled her gun out of her belt. “Stay

here,” she said.

“Oh, God, Randi, you’re not going in there, are you?” Kim

whispered frantically. “Let’s call the sheriff.”

Randi hesitated and might have agreed, but just then a girl

came running out of the mine, the same girl Kim had seen a

couple of days before, her clothes and face grimy with dirt. From

inside, they heard the woman’s frenzied voice crying, “Nita!

Nita!”

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The girl stopped in front of Kim and stared at her, her eyes

dark and wide. “Puede ayudar?” she asked, her voice insistent.

Kim glanced at Randi, who quietly translated. “She’s asking

if you’re here to help.”

“Sí,” Kim said, turning back to the girl and smiling as benignly

as she could. Then she reached out and took hold of the girl’s

hand. The girl didn’t smile, but she hung on tightly.

Randi called into the mine. “Todos afuera! Nadie les hará daño!”

There was no response. Randi called into the mine again, more

emphatically this time. A moment passed before a teenage boy

appeared at the opening, emerging into sunshine and blinking

his eyes, his hands raised above his head in surrender. Randi, who

had been aiming her gun at the mine entrance, now lowered it.

She spoke to the boy in Spanish and he answered, lowering his

hands and pointing to the mine’s dark entrance.

“His parents are inside,” Randi said. “His father is hurt.”

With that, Randi went inside, Kim behind her, and at the far

end of the tunnel, in the near darkness, they found a man lying

on the ground with a woman sitting beside him. The woman

looked frightened and angry at the same time. The man was

barely conscious, one leg of his trousers stiff with dried blood.

His head was lying on a bunched-up piece of clothing, his eyes

half-open.

Randi put the safety back on her gun and returned it to her

waistband, then she knelt beside the man and felt his forehead

with the back of her hand. She spoke to the woman gently, but

her voice was full of authority. Gradually the woman’s defiance

diminished and gave way to quiet sobs. Now, Kim realized, she

had really given up. These were tears of grief. Whatever hope she

had been holding out for a way to salvage their dream of America,

she let go of in that moment. Kim felt a heaviness descend on her

heart. She held the hand of the little girl more securely.

Randi took out her pocketknife and cut the man’s trouser

leg open. Kim saw her wince when she saw what was under the

cloth. “He’s been shot,” she explained to Kim. “The operation

must have gone bad somehow. They’re not going to tell us what

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happened, but their pollero is long gone. They’ve been left out

here to die, basically.”

“Pollero?”

“Chicken handler. It’s what they call the guys who take the

illegals to their destination. The illegals are the chickens. It’s a

really ugly business. These people pay a lot of money to get led

through here, to get to a safe house, then on to somewhere else

to get a minimum wage job, if they’re lucky. The truck breaks

down, something else goes wrong, they end up stranded in the

desert and they die. Since they’ve tightened up the border so

much around San Diego, we’ve been getting more and more of

this here. But, here too, the danger is greater than it’s ever been.”

“Danger of getting caught, you mean?”

“No. Danger of dying. These people are literally running

through here with nothing—no food, no water, no money. And

they’re afraid. They get lost, they get left behind. Sometimes the

polleros just abandon them once they get them over the border.

People are found dead out here. Happens every year.”

“How long have they been here?” Kim asked.

“She says three days right here. I don’t know how long since

they crossed the border. This wound is infected.”

As Kim’s eyes became adjusted to the dimness, she saw

Ramon’s lunch tote and their water jug in the back of the mine.

Randi spoke again to the man’s wife, who was still sobbing.

By her tone, Kim could tell that Randi was trying to reassure

the woman that things would be okay. Kim was struck again by

Randi’s competence, her ease at taking control of a situation.

There were times, Kim thought, that she wore that white hat

very well.

Recalling the image of Randi tossing Minnie down Pinkie’s bar

and laughing about it, she shook her head. She couldn’t reconcile

these different characters. There was obviously something she

didn’t understand about what had happened that night.

Randi led the way out of the mine and Kim followed, the girl

still clinging to her hand.

“We’ll need to get him to a hospital,” Randi said. “Let’s go

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back to the truck and call the sheriff.”

“Can we leave them here? They won’t make a run for it?”

“That guy is going nowhere. The boy may be able to carry a

five-gallon jug of water, but he can’t carry his father. And I don’t

think little Nita here is going to leave your side for a while.”

Randi smiled at the girl, whose expression remained passive

as it had been the whole time. The three of them walked back to

the road.

“What’s going to happen to them?” Kim asked.

“Eventually, they’ll be going home, back to Mexico.”

Kim knew very little about this kind of situation, but she

imagined that the family had paid a lot of money to be smuggled

over the border, money that was gone, money that might

represent their entire savings. “It’s sad,” she said.

“Yes, it is,” Randi agreed. “But at least her father isn’t going

to die now, thanks to you.”

The places Kim had worked before had never been this

remote, this untamed. It was beautiful and alluring, but also scary,

all of a sudden.

“Randi,” Kim asked, tentatively, “have you ever seen a dead

body out here?”

“Once,” Randi said. “I was out here with Matt last year and

we came across one, a young man who must have died of heat

stroke. He’d been dead about a week.”

The two of them walked silently the rest of the way to the

truck.

“Thanks for coming out,” Kim said, “I was a little afraid to

come back here after our stuff was stolen.”

“I don’t blame you.” Randi gave Breeze a treat and patted

his flank.

“Seems like you’re always coming to my rescue,” Kim said.

Randi grinned. “Seems like you always need rescuing.”

Two hours later, the Mexican family was gone, taken to town

by the sheriff, and Kim had collected her containers from the

mine. The little girl had been reluctant to give up Kim’s hand

when the time came, for some reason feeling safe in her care in

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this world of great unknowns. Perhaps she had seen something

while watching her at the petroglyph site that had reassured her

that Kim could be trusted. Kim gave her back to her mother in

the sheriff’s car and gave her a parting smile, her only real means

of communicating with the child.

It was just around lunchtime when they got back to town.

Kim knew by now that there was no point sitting around idly

waiting for Randi to ask her to lunch. The thought didn’t seem

to occur to her.

“Let me buy you lunch,” she said, “to thank you for all your

help.”

“I can’t really spare the time today,” Randi said. “I have

papers to grade and a bunch of chores that I won’t have time for

tomorrow because of the walk-a-thon. That’s going to take up a

good part of the day. Busy weekend. But, thanks.”

Kim was disappointed. “You know, I sort of forgot that you

teach.”

“This is my third semester at AWC.”

“How do you like it?”

“I love it. The students are really interested, most of them.

We have a good time. Most of the students are older than what

you get at the university, I’m sure, but they’re enthusiastic and I

get to talk about rocks.”

“I’d settle for enthusiasm any day. If my students stay awake,

I feel lucky, but part of that’s due to the size of classes. Too many

students to interact very closely with them. It’s more of a formal

lecture type of setting. How many students in your classes?”

“They start out about thirty, thirty-five, but the drop rate

is high. I end up with about fifteen by the end, the fifteen good

ones, so, yes, it’s very personal. Conversational by the end of the

semester. Right now, though, we’re just starting, so I have quite a

few papers to get done.”

Kim nodded. “No TA’s, I guess?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“How did you get started doing that?” she asked. “Sounds

like you weren’t here long before taking that job.”

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“No, I wasn’t. One thing I’ve discovered here is that a

professional person with a willingness to get involved is really in

demand. If you want to contribute to this community, there are

more opportunities here than there are in a lot of other places,

Phoenix, for instance, and I’m sure to an even greater extent in

Sacramento. I was asked one time to speak to an environmental

technology class, as the BLM geologist, and the next thing I knew,

the department chairman called me and asked me if I wanted to

teach. I guess he thought I was okay.”

Kim said nothing, thinking about what Randi was saying,

thinking too that she sounded rather humble for a change. That

was definitely refreshing.

“There are other things like that, too,” Randi continued. “I

never felt so much a part of a place as I do here. I drive through

town and always see people I know. I feel connected to the land,

even. I suppose that’s because of my job. After all, most of it is

BLM land, so it’s natural to feel some responsibility for it, but

that feeling extends to the town and the people. It was less than a

year after I moved here that I started to feel that way, and it’s just

grown ever since.”

Randi stopped the truck in front of Kim’s trailer.

“That’s really nice,” Kim said.

“Yes, it is. I like the feeling of being a part of something, not

just an anonymous cog in the machine.”

Suddenly, Randi didn’t seem much of a hick. She seemed,

in fact, like an intelligent, interesting professional woman with

an admirable sense of community. It’s the place that misled me,

Kim thought, the strange environment of the desert and a border

town, a place she had not understood very well and had made

a lot of assumptions about. Well, that and the cowboy hat and

boots, too. Those were not things she was accustomed to seeing

on the sort of woman she would consider her type. Where she

came from, women didn’t dress like that unless they were going

to a rodeo. By “her type,” she cautioned herself, she meant the

type of woman she could be friends with.

Randi didn’t seem that interested in being friends, though

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she seemed more than willing to be helpful. She showed up when

called, yes, just like the Lone Ranger, and when the danger had

passed, she was long gone before you’d gotten a clue about who

it really was under that mask. And, Kim thought with dismay,

I’m not even Tonto. I’m that hapless woman with the long skirt

who falls down in the dirt when she tries to run away from the

bad guys.

Kim got out of the truck and shut the door. “Thanks again,”

she said through the open window.

Although Randi just nodded, Kim’s imagination had her

touch the brim of her hat in one of those subtle cowboy-style

salutes and say, “You’re mighty welcome, ma’am.”

Kim sighed, watching Randi drive off.

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CHAPTER TWENTY

A voice mail message from Randi asked Kim to stop by the

office when she got back to town after work.

When she arrived, she found Randi at her desk with a

yellowish map spread out on top of it.

“Hi,” Randi said, looking up and smiling brightly. “Thanks

for coming by. You remember asking me the name of that wash

behind Black Point?”

“Sure,” Kim said, noting the undercurrent of excitement in

Randi’s voice.

“I’ve been doing some research. On the new maps, that wash

doesn’t even show, or when it does, it has no name. So I decided to

try some older maps. You’ll never guess what I’ve discovered.”

Randi motioned Kim to come around the desk, then pointed

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to a spot on the map, an obviously old, not altogether formal

looking map. “Here’s Black Point. Right about here is where

your Site A would be. So, this drainage beside it is the wash in

question.”

Randi pointed to a thin line that ran crookedly down toward

the Gila River. That line was labeled Hendy Wash.

Kim looked up, connecting with Randi’s eyes. “I don’t

understand.”

“This map is dated 1888. I’ve checked several already, some

older, some newer. Most of the maps after this date show this

other wash as Hendy Wash.” Randi pointed to another thin line

draining toward the Gila. “That’s the one we know by that name

today. But all of the older maps consistently identify the Black

Point wash as Hendy.”

Randi waited for this news to make sense to Kim, a look of

expectancy on her face.

“Wow,” Kim said, finally.

“Uh-huh.” Randi grinned.

“Wow,” Kim said again, the impact of Randi’s discovery

becoming clearer.

“Wow is right! It’s not uncommon for these kinds of things

to happen, especially in places like this where people didn’t form

settlements. No locals around to verify place names. The real

Hendy Wash, the original one anyway, is the one behind the

petroglyphs. That wash runs about five miles north to south,

starting a mile up from Black Point and draining down to the

Gila.”

“That makes the inscription even more understandable, the

C. E. Hendy.”

“Right. That could even be the reason it was named Hendy

Wash in the first place, because his name was there by the time

people started coming through in numbers.”

“So the gold, the Wolff gold, is buried there, right there in

our wash?”

Randi flashed her an amused smile. “If the legend is true and

nobody has found it, yes. All of these fortune hunters have been

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looking in the wrong place all these years.” Randi folded the

map.

“Incredible!”

“You can’t tell anybody about this, you understand?”

“Why not?”

“Everybody who’s been out here for the last twenty years

to find that gold would rush back to look in your wash, which

would bring them right to the petroglyphs. They’d be swarming

all around there. We can’t let that happen. That site has remained

protected because there was nothing around it of interest to

anybody. Buried treasure is of interest to just about everybody.”

Kim nodded. “I understand. Are there any palm trees in this

wash, the real Hendy Wash?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked.”

“But you’re about to, aren’t you?” Kim asked.

“How could I not?”

“Right. And you’re going to take me with you.”

“And why would I do that, Tilley?” Randi asked, obviously

teasing.

“It’s because of me that you figured this out. I should get a

cut of the spoils.”

“You know, if we did find the gold, it belongs to the

government.”

“Oh, sure, I know that. I just meant that I should be a part of

it, the fun. Imagine finding a buried treasure. It’s just so cool.”

“Meet me at my house at seven tomorrow morning. We’re

going for a hike.”

Just then Steve stuck his head in and said, “Hey, Kim, I

thought I saw you come in. How about doing us a little favor?

When you’re done here, I need an archaeologist up front.”

Kim laughed. “Really? Like, is there an archaeologist in the

house?”

He grinned. “Something like that.”

“Okay. I think we’re done here.”

Randi nodded.

Steve ducked back out. Kim whispered, “I’ll see you

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tomorrow,” to Randi before following him to the reception area

where a woman and a girl stood waiting.

“Here she is!” Steve announced heartily, his ruddy face

beaming as if he had just pulled a rabbit out of his hat.

He introduced her as “Dr. Kimberly Gatlin, an archaeologist

from the University of California.” The woman was Beverly

Thompson and her daughter was Constance, but the girl, who

looked about fourteen, informed Kim politely that she was called

Connie.

“How can I help you?” Kim asked.

“I found an arrowhead,” the girl announced, losing her

composure completely and wriggling all over.

Steve handed Kim a piece of paper covered with an image.

“Thought you might be able to tell her something about it.

Connie and her mother have been extremely responsible. They

left the point where it was and took photos.”

“That’s what Mr. Mendoza told us to do,” Connie said.

“Mr. Mendoza?” asked Kim.

“That’s Matt,” Steve explained. “Matt Mendoza.”

Kim nodded.

“He went with us on a field trip to Casa Grande over a year

ago,” Mrs. Thompson explained. “Connie loved it and she has

been looking for Indian artifacts ever since. This is the first one,

though, that she’s found.”

“I came in here to show him,” Connie said.

“Lucky for you,” Steve told her, “you get Dr. Gatlin

instead.”

“Casa Grande is quite a place, isn’t it?” Kim said, recalling

the crumbling walls of pink caliche. “Do you remember what

Indians lived there?”

“Hohokam,” Connie replied instantly.

“Yes.” Kim studied the image on the printout for a moment.

“This point is probably a dart head, not an arrowhead. How big

is it?”

Connie held her fingers about two inches apart and looked

expectantly up at Kim.

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“If it’s that big, it is most certainly not an arrowhead. The arrows

were small and light. Their tips were much smaller. Otherwise, the

arrows would have been too heavy to travel very far.”

“A dart?” Connie repeated. “Like a blowgun dart?”

Kim shook her head. “No. They threw it, like a small spear.

This looks like a very fine specimen.”

“Did they kill people with it?” Connie asked.

Kim smiled. “No. They hunted animals with it.” She was

fairly confident about the projectile. It was cream-colored rock,

narrow and long with smooth edges, not serrated, so not the

early period. “This is Hohokam and I’m guessing it’s made of

chert. But I can’t be sure without looking at it in person.”

“Do you want me to show you?” Connie asked excitedly.

“Sure.” Kim turned to Steve. “I’ll go take a look.”

“Thanks,” he said with a wink.

Good PR, that’s what this was about, Kim understood,

especially when someone actually obeyed the rules and left their

find in place.

Kim followed Beverly’s car to the site of the discovery beside

a dirt road just outside the city limits. Connie leapt out of the car

and ran to the spot, standing impatiently over her find. As Kim

approached, Connie stood pointing at the ground. Kim knelt and

picked up the object. She smiled up at Connie and said, “Now

that is a beautiful specimen.” Connie beamed.

Kim took a GPS reading and digital photos of the point.

Then she took photos of Connie holding the point, and had

Mrs. Thompson take a couple of pictures of the two of them.

Then they put the point back where they’d found it and Kim

thanked them both for being good citizens. Her mother seemed

especially grateful for the attention and thanked Kim for taking

time out for them.

“I’m so glad she got to meet you,” Beverly Thompson said

as Kim prepared to leave. “To see a woman in a professional

position, I mean. She was already excited about archaeology, but

you’re the first female archaeologist she’s met. It’s just that much

more inspiring.”

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“That’s really nice to hear,” Kim said, thinking about how

important it was for everyone to have that one mentor or role

model that sets you on your course, the pursuit of your lifelong

passion. For Kim, that person had been the famous archaeologist

Mary Leakey. When Kim was in high school, she had had a rare

opportunity to hear Leakey speak. Her science teacher offered

extra credit for anyone who attended the lecture, so several of

them did. Listening to Leakey’s description of her work at Olduvai

Gorge, Kim’s imagination was sparked. With an example like

Mary Leakey standing before her eyes, what might have seemed

like an impossible dream before became an attainable goal. But it

didn’t require someone as impressive as Mary Leakey, Kim knew,

to inspire a child.

The next day Kim made an eight-by-ten print of one of

the photos. In it, she stood beside Connie, her arm around the

girl’s shoulders. Connie was holding the dart point and beaming

with pride. On one corner of the photo, she wrote, “Connie,

congratulations on your first important discovery. Welcome to

the profession. Kim Gatlin.”

It would be something, she thought, if this girl actually did

become an archaeologist. Kim hoped that she was going to

cherish this photo, frame it, and hang it on her bedroom wall.

And maybe some day she would show her grandchildren and say,

“This is how it all began.”

Kim slid the photo in a mailer and addressed it. It wasn’t

very likely that she would ever have children of her own. And her

students were a little old, most of them, to inspire with awe in

quite this way, with such a pure delight.

Perhaps I’ll hang this photo on my own bedroom wall, too,

she thought.

147

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Danya carefully turned an egg with a spatula in gently

simmering cooking oil. “You’re going hiking?”

“Yes,” Randi answered. “It’ll be an all-day thing. If you didn’t

have that job interview, I’d ask you along. Do you have something

to wear to that?”

“Sure. I have a nice blouse and some slacks. That’ll work.”

“What time is your interview?”

“One.”

“So you’ll need to leave here by ten, maybe a little earlier, to

get to Phoenix by one. You should give yourself some leeway.”

“Yeah, I know how long a drive it is.” Danya sounded irritated

as she removed the egg to a plate. “You want one egg or two?”

“Two, please. I’m going to be burning some energy today.”

148

Danya cracked another egg into the pan. Randi pulled on her

hiking boots and laced them tight.

“I hate to ask,” Danya said, “but do you think you could give

me a few bucks for gas?”

Randi stood and took a couple of twenties from her wallet,

laying them on the table, thinking that Danya must have let

herself get pretty close to bottom before turning up here if she

couldn’t even buy herself a tank of gas. Then she was reminded

of Danya’s offer the other day to pay rent and wondered if that

had been completely hollow. She took another twenty out and

laid it over the others. “Buy yourself lunch while you’re there,”

she said.

Danya flashed her a grateful smile. “Speaking of lunch, should

I pack you something for the trail?”

“No, thanks. Tilley’s bringing lunch.”

“Tilley? Isn’t that the woman you were on the phone with

the other night?”

“Yes, that’s her. Her name is actually Kim. Tilley’s just

something I call her. Sort of a joke.” Talking about Kim to Danya

made Randi nervous. “She’s an archaeologist I’ve been working

with. There’s something out there near her worksite that we need

to check out.”

“Is she a lesbian?” Danya asked this without turning away

from her pan, obviously trying, but not succeeding, to sound

nonchalant.

“Yes,” Randi said, also trying to sound nonchalant. “But

there’s nothing between us.”

Why do I feel like I have to say that? Randi asked herself with

irritation.

Danya gave her a suspicious look as she slid the second egg

from the frying pan onto a plate.

After breakfast, Randi wished Danya good luck with her

interview and went out to get the truck ready. She didn’t want

to introduce Kim to Danya, especially since Danya was clearly

about to go all jealous on her, so when Kim showed up at the

curb, Randi met her there, ready to go. Breeze was ready too,

149

jumping in and out of the front seat of the truck in anticipation.

Kim looked cute in hiking boots, shorts and a T-shirt. She wore

a sky blue handkerchief around her neck to protect herself from

the sun.

Breeze sat between them as Randi drove and Kim applied

sunscreen to her arms, legs and face.

It took them over forty-five minutes to reach the Gila River

where Hendy Wash, the real Hendy Wash, emptied into it. Both

of them wore light jackets against the morning chill. They pulled

on their backpacks and hats, Randi her cowboy hat and Kim

a straw one. With her sunglasses and hat on, she looked even

cuter.

“Wolff Mine is just down river less than a half mile from

here,” Randi said. “That gives even more credence to this new

information. From the mine, this is the nearest side stream. He

wouldn’t have wanted to carry the gold too far, but with a mule

he could have taken it any distance up the canyon to bury it.”

“So we’re looking for palm trees, right?” Kim asked.

“Yes, but I’m not really expecting to see any. Native palms

are pretty rare here. There’s a grove of them to the northwest in

Kofa Wildlife Refuge, and those are the only ones I’ve heard of.

If there were ever any palms here, they would have been tucked

away in some shady spot, something sheltered from the worst

of the heat, near some reliable water source. The particular tree

that Wolff mentioned would be long gone, so we’re looking for a

spot palms might have been able to inhabit, once upon a time.”

Randi pulled a portable metal detector from her truck. “If we

do find a likely spot,” she said, “we can use this.”

“Oh, good thinking.”

The Gila River, lined with cottonwood and tamarisk, was dry,

but still supported a fragile riparian habitat. Birdsong surrounded

them as they started up the canyon. Even without the excuse

of treasure hunting, Randi thought, this was going to be fun, a

relaxing hike in the desert. They walked up the wash, following

its turns as it headed up and away from the river through loose

gravel and boulders.

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Wherever the wash curved, they looked into protected corners

for evidence of water, not necessarily visible water, but green

plants to indicate the presence of water. The wash was shallow

and didn’t offer much protection for plants. The flora here was

the same as it was outside of the wash—mesquite, brittlebush,

cholla and beavertail cactus. So far, nothing of interest had

revealed itself. The day was beautiful, though, with some wispy

cloud action above and blooming wildflowers all around.

Kim had brought a camera and stopped occasionally to take

pictures of flowers or an attractive vista. Randi looked up from

searching the stream bed once to see Kim standing ahead of her

with the camera aimed in her direction. She snapped a photo and

smiled self-consciously before turning to continue up canyon.

Along the way, they scared up a roadrunner that took off

straight down the center of the wash ahead of them. Breeze

started after it at full tilt until Randi called to him sharply. He

stopped and sat immediately, waiting for them.

“That’s a good dog,” observed Kim.

As the sun rose, Kim took off her windbreaker, rolled it up,

and stuffed it in her backpack. Randi did the same. Their hike

was mostly silent except for an occasional observation about an

interesting rock or plant. There was nothing awkward about the

silence. Randi was enjoying the peacefulness of the trek and the

comfortable companionship. Kim seemed to be having a good

time too.

About halfway along, Randi stopped to pull her rock hammer

out of her pack and crack open a rock. She positioned it carefully

and, with a single swing, broke it in half.

“Something of interest?” Kim asked.

“Yes,” Randi said. “This rhyolite has unusually large feldspar

phenocrysts. Very nice specimen.”

Kim shook her head, obviously disappointed. Maybe she’d

been expecting gold. Randi stood in the shade of the canyon wall

to take a drink from her water bottle. “How far have we gone?”

she asked.

Kim glanced at her GPS receiver. “Three miles.”

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“You’ve got your petroglyph site plugged into that, right?”

“Yes. It should be another mile up the wash.”

“Let’s stop there for lunch, then.”

Kim nodded and they continued. Just a couple of minutes

beyond that, Randi stopped again, for a plant this time. “Here’s a

cereus, I’m pretty sure.”

Kim came over to look at the plant as Randi knelt beside it.

There were three of those remarkable plants clustered together

at the edge of the wash, just slender bare stems now, but, come

summer, for one night only, a beautiful, fragrant white flower

would bloom on that nondescript plant. Since first hearing about

it from Bill, the BLM botanist, Randi had made a pact with

herself to catch it blooming, to see for herself that single, ghostly

bloom open in the dark and then close forever at sunrise. Few

people ever witnessed that in the wild, she’d been told. Things

like that happened in the desert. There was a lot of space. A lot

of life went unobserved, quietly unfolding in its own private way,

unobtrusive, but miraculous.

“There’s another place I’ve seen them,” Randi said, “west of

Yuma in Rainbow Wash. This thing supposedly only blooms one

night in the summer.”

“For a rock girl, you know an awful lot about plants.” Kim said.

“I hang around with a botanist,” Randi explained. “They get

pretty excited about this plant. People hardly ever get a chance

to see its flower.”

“Sounds like something worth waiting for. What did you call

it?” “Its common name is Arizona Queen of the Night.”

“How romantic.”

They continued walking. At a wide turn in the wash, they

stopped to examine the debris at the outer edge as they had been

doing at such spots. Randi switched on the metal detector and

ran it over the gravel. A moment later it started beeping. She

followed the signal to the spot of its loudest alarm. Kim came

closer to watch.

“See if you can find anything there,” Randi said.

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Kim shoved some of the gravel aside with her boot, digging

a shallow depression until she turned up a rusted tin can. She

pulled it free of the gravel. Randi passed the metal detector over

the spot again. It was silent.

“Oh, well,” Kim said, leading the way forward.

At last Randi saw the familiar shape of the Black Point rock

outcrop up ahead. They stopped to have lunch, sitting in the

shade of the symbol-covered rocks.

“That’s it, then,” Randi said, “No palm trees here. This

canyon is too shallow for a palm grove. There’s no protection.”

“There’s still about a mile left.”

“We’ll finish it out, but Wolff wouldn’t have needed to go

that far from the river to bury his treasure. I don’t think we’re

going to find anything.” Randi was disappointed. She realized

that she had really wanted to find the treasure, not just for the

obvious reasons, but because pulling out a trick like that for Kim,

to delight her, would have been fantastic.

Kim removed her hat and opened the lunch tote to produce

a thermos of lemonade and two colorful salads—roasted chicken

with tomatoes, basil and mozzarella, and a corkscrew pasta with

steamed asparagus and olives, both from a downtown deli.

“Whoa!” Randi said when she saw them. “I was expecting

PB & J.”

Kim smiled a self-satisfied smile and poured two cups of

lemonade. She then spooned a portion of each of the salads onto

a plastic plate and passed it to Randi along with a plastic fork.

Breeze lay down next to Randi, resting his head on her leg.

For the next few minutes, they were silent as they concentrated

on lunch. Kim sat with her legs folded in the lotus position, holding

her plate with one hand. A light sheen of perspiration coated her

legs and arms. She wasn’t looking at Randi. She was gazing at

the rocks, at the petroglyphs. Randi took the opportunity to look

at her unobserved, admiring her delicate neck and the crease

on the left side of her mouth, more than usually pronounced as

she chewed her food. Randi liked the way Kim’s hair stuck to

her forehead where her hatband had been. She liked the nearly

153

straight line of her eyebrows. When she arched one or both of

them, it made a considerable impact on an observer. Just then

the left one did arch slightly as Kim looked at Randi and said,

“You’re not eating. Don’t you like it?”

“Oh, no, I love it.” Randi took a big forkful of pasta as if to

prove it, realizing that she had almost been caught staring with

what had to have been a stupid look on her face.

“This is such a peaceful place,” Kim sighed.

“Yes,” Randi said. “How is your survey going, by the way?”

“Good. Slow and careful.”

“How much longer do you think you’ll be out here?”

“Hard to say. I can leave whenever we finish, but I have to

be back by the end of April. There’s a conference I’m scheduled

to attend. Actually, I’m one of the speakers, so there’s no choice

about being there. I don’t think it will be a problem to finish by

then. Besides, it will be too hot here to stay any longer than that.”

“Right. Nobody’s going to want to be out here after March.

Other than Flynn. He’s like a lizard. The heat doesn’t seem

to bother him. I guess he’s adapted.” Randi hesitated. “At this

conference where you’re speaking, is your subject going to be

this site?”

“Yes. I’ve started putting the presentation together already.

There are several of my colleagues who are anxious to see what’s

here, as you can imagine.”

“I thought you were going to keep it under wraps?”

“These are all professionals. This isn’t the general public

we’re talking about. They’ll understand, and my department

knows I’m here, of course. This isn’t a secret mission I’m on.

Besides, I think BLM is planning on opening this up sooner than

you imagined. I wouldn’t be surprised if they do it next winter.

They were just waiting for a thorough survey. That’s my guess.”

“Too bad.” Randi glanced up at the petroglyphs. “There’s

something in it for you then, after all, isn’t there?”

“I hope so. I’m not going to apologize for wanting to advance

my career. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. But like

I told you before, I’m not going to publish until the site goes

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public. I’m keeping that promise.”

Randi nodded thoughtfully. “Good. Must be hard to resist.”

“It is. This is just such a rich resource.”

Randi wasn’t going to argue any more about it. It wasn’t

Kim’s fault. Kim must have recognized Randi’s change of attitude

because she looked at her with a sympathetic and grateful smile.

“If you really take to heart the idea that this is public land,”

Kim said, “then you have to give the public access to it when that

makes sense, and you have to involve the public in caring for it.”

“Theoretically, yes,” Randi said. “It only takes a few jerks,

though, to ruin it.”

“A girl and her mother came into the office yesterday. That

was why Steve was looking for an archaeologist. They brought in

a photo of a dart point the girl found. She left it where it was and

reported it because she’d learned that from Matt.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I mean, it does work. The girl was full of respect for the

relic. She’d been to Casa Grande. It had impressed her. Some

kid’s going to come here, to this site, and feel the same sense

of awe. Develop a sense of responsibility for protecting these

resources.”

“That’s really encouraging,” Randi offered.

“Yes, it is. Matt did a good job getting the message across, I

guess. I really believe that ignorance is the biggest threat.”

“You make a good point,” Randi admitted, not feeling the

least bit like arguing.

“That reminds me, I’d like to talk to Matt before I’m done

here. He must have some ideas about these glyphs, and I’d be

interested in hearing them. I’d also just like to meet the guy. I

keep hearing about him. It sounds like he’s going to be hard to

replace.”

Randi smiled. “Yes, he will. He’s quite a talker, so I’m sure he

can be coaxed into it. I’ll put you in touch.”

“Thanks.” Kim took a long drink of her lemonade, then

asked, “Why geology?”

Randi, noticing that one of her legs had gone to sleep,

155

shifted position. “Lots of reasons. Always liked rocks. I had a

rock collection when I was just six, just things I’d picked up that

I thought were pretty. And then I had my first geology class in

high school. I discovered that the laws of geology were not only

things I could remember, but things I could understand, unlike

physics, for instance.”

“You mean the law of uniformitarianism, things like that?”

Now that they were talking science, it was clear to Randi that

they were both on easy, familiar ground.

“Right. And the law of superposition. The things on top were

deposited after the things underneath ’em. Oh, boy, doesn’t take

a rocket scientist for that one, does it?”

Kim grinned. “Which physics often does.”

“Exactly.”

“But geology gets much more complicated than that.”

“Oh, sure, but I didn’t realize it in high school. Later, taking

all that calculus and chemistry, well, then I did realize it, but it

was too late to back out. I was in love with geology by then. The

thing that really did it for me, really captured my imagination,

was the concept of deep time.”

“Deep time, yes,” Kim said, nodding, “how human history

barely registers on the time scale of the planet.”

“Right. Rock sequences and convection and plate tectonics

are all fascinating on their own, but behind every topic in geology

is the idea of deep time. It’s always about millions and billions of

years. You archaeologists are going to dig down a few feet into

the earth’s crust through at most ten thousand years. For most

people, that length of time is comprehensible. But in geology,

we cover billions of years and we don’t dig down through time,

at least not billions of years. Hang around long enough, though,

and the Earth has turned itself all inside out like a giant plow and

a clam is freaking sitting on top of Mount McKinley!”

Kim laughed. “I know what you mean. It’s just astonishing,

the whole long, amazing process.”

“I don’t think most people can comprehend a billion years. I

know I can’t.”

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“Wouldn’t it be something to be able to hang around for a

billion years to see what develops? Don’t you think about that?”

“Lots of times.” Randi nodded. “It’s funny how our two

sciences are almost mutually exclusive. I’ve got the time before

humans and yours doesn’t even start until they show up.”

“Geology doesn’t stop with the appearance of humans.”

“No, but geologic processes are so slow that nothing much

has changed since people showed up. All the good stuff happened

before that. For instance, this lava flow occurred ten thousand

years ago, probably before the first human stepped foot here. So

every person who has ever been past here has seen this outcrop

looking a lot like what it does right now. That’s a comforting

thought, don’t you think, that something could stay the same so

long?”

Kim smiled, an easy, genuine look of friendship.

“Not so many rules like that in archaeology, I guess,” Randi

noted. “Not like superposition.”

“No,” Kim agreed. “Laws of nature don’t help a lot where

people are concerned. But they’re not irrelevant. There are things

about nature that every culture must have known to survive.”

“Like what?”

“Like the knowledge that a river always flows to the sea,

eventually.”

“Well, not every river...”

Kim laughed and slapped a hand on her knee. “I knew you

were going to say that! You’re such a geologist.”

Randi smiled and fingered a pebble, her eyes focusing on

a small freckle on Kim’s wrist where it creased when flexed.

Sometimes she found it hard to look Kim in the eye.

“But, you know what I mean,” Kim said. “Long before

Newton described it as gravity, millions of people had known

about it, a force of nature they understood, even if they didn’t

have a name for it. They knew that a river would follow the path

of least resistance, head downgrade, that sort of thing. The kind

of rule that, although there are exceptions, would serve them

well. A truth they could live by. There aren’t too many of those,

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certainties. Near certainties.”

“No, not too many certainties. Even now.”

They lapsed into silence again and finished eating.

“Too bad we didn’t think of parking your truck here,” Randi

said. “Then we wouldn’t have to walk all the way back.”

“That’s okay. I don’t mind hiking. Besides, it’s all downhill on

the way back.”

Leaning against a rock, Randi felt thoroughly relaxed. She

was feeling more talkative than usual and told Kim about some

of the characters she’d run into in the desert.

“There’s a miner named Potter,” she said, “lives on his claim

and never wears clothes. Doesn’t see the point. Most of the time,

it doesn’t matter. Nobody ever sees him. He lives in his tunnels

like a mole, but the couple of times that I’ve gone out to inspect

his place, it’s been a little awkward, believe me.”

“He doesn’t put on clothes even when you come to visit?”

“He doesn’t know I’m coming. It’s not like I can call him.

These guys are living in a world of their own. They like being cut

off from everything. He doesn’t seem to care, or notice. I had to

ask him to put on pants, both times.”

Kim laughed. “Some strange people live in the desert, don’t

they?”

“Yes. It seems to breed rare folks like rare flowers.” Randi

laughed too.

Kim glanced at her watch. “Wow! We’ve been sitting here

over an hour.”

As if they were both feeling somehow guilty for losing track

of time, the rest of their hike was focused and nearly silent, a

rapid, no-nonsense trek to the end of the wash where it became

just flat desert floor, and then five miles back to the river. There

was no looking at flowers or rocks on the way down, nor was

there much need to look for places where gold might be buried.

If the gold was buried in this wash, finding it was going to be

sheer luck. There didn’t seem to be anything to tie it to the few

clues Helmuth Wolff had left behind.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As they made their way back to town, Randi calculated

that even if Danya had driven straight back after her interview,

she wouldn’t be home for at least an hour. Randi felt herself

struggling with the idea of inviting Kim in, of being alone with

her in the house and maybe even kissing her. The image kept

floating through her mind, growing more vivid the closer they

got to home. I don’t even know if she’s single, Randi reminded

herself, wishing she could think of a way to ask.

Pulling up in front of her house, she saw no sign of Danya’s

car. “Let me show you around, if you have a minute.”

“Sure,” said Kim, then transferred her stuff to the back of her

own pickup.

Randi led the way into the house, noticing as soon as she

stepped inside the unexpected, distinctive sweet smell of

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marijuana smoke. She stopped in the front room and turned to

look at Kim, wondering if she smelled it and if she knew what

it was. Miss Straightlaced Academe probably had no idea what

marijuana smelled like. At the moment, Randi was grateful for

Kim’s ivory-tower lifestyle. She wanted to back out the front

door and send Kim away, but how to do that without looking

nuts was a puzzle she didn’t know how to solve.

Breeze trotted past them on his way to his food dish.

“It’s an old house,” Randi said, regaining her composure.

“But I’ve done a lot of updates.”

“It’s darling,” Kim said.

Randi led the way to the sunroom where Breeze was drinking

from his dish with noisy slurps. Both of the ceiling fans were on,

turning slowly, and there were two glasses on the coffee table,

beads of condensation surrounding their lower halves. Randi

wanted to walk over and smell them to see what they contained,

but stood where she was, smiling at Kim instead. What the hell

is going on, she thought silently, realizing that she needed to get

Kim out of the house and on her way as quickly as she could

without seeming rude.

“This is gorgeous,” Kim said, looking out the windows to the

cactus-covered slope behind the house. “So tastefully decorated. I

love the Southwest style. It flows into the landscape. That always

seems so important to me, to blend yourself into your natural

surroundings if you can.”

“It’s important to me too. I added this room after I moved

in. I needed a place to sit and look at the desert without having

to actually be in it. This room’s air conditioning runs on solar

energy. There are panels on the roof here.”

Kim nodded. “That’s terrific.”

“I basically had to give up my backyard to put this in, but I

think it’s worth it.”

“Absolutely! Your house is really great. And I love the fact

that your yard is natural, even in front, landscaped with native

plants. No lawn. Ecologically sound.”

Kim strolled over to a shelf where Randi displayed some of

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her favorite rocks. She turned and smiled an adorable, knowing

smile at Randi, as if to say, “Of course!”

“Could I have some water?” Kim asked. “Kind of thirsty.”

“Oh, sure. Come on into the kitchen.”

Randi took a pitcher out of the refrigerator and poured Kim

a glass of water, noticing that there were new, dirty dishes on

the counter. It was becoming clear to her that Danya must have

bailed on her job interview and spent the day here.

“I had a great time today,” Kim said, sounding sincere. “Even

if we didn’t find any buried treasure.”

“Me too,” Randi said.

As Kim set her water glass on the counter, Danya’s voice

reached them from another room. “Hey, Rocky, are you home?”

Randi winced at the nickname. She glanced at Kim, noticing

her expression of confusion. “Friend of mine,” she explained.

“Visiting for a few days.”

Kim nodded. Randi pushed through the door into the

front room where Danya was toddling down the hallway in her

bathrobe, looking disheveled and bleary-eyed, as if she had just

rolled out of bed.

“Yes, I’m home,” Randi said. “Kim, this is my friend Danya.”

Kim smiled and nodded in Danya’s direction.

“Have a good hike?” Danya asked.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Randi said. “I thought you’d

be in Phoenix.”

Danya tossed her hand through the air and sputtered.

“Decided not to go.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Nicki took it to go get some tacos.”

“Nicki?” Randi felt herself getting angry, but, under Kim’s

gaze, she held back.

“You know Nicki,” Danya said, sounding drunk or high or both.

Randi did know Nicki. She was a loser, as far as Randi was

concerned, a woman who reminded her of people she had known

well in younger days—hard-edged, defiant, living on the fringes of

society, the sort of woman she and Danya would have welcomed

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into their circle at one time. The sort of woman she and Danya

had been at one time. Randi was surprised that Danya had gotten

to know Nicki well enough to party with her. She apparently

didn’t spend all of her time playing housewife to Randi while she

was at work.

Randi turned to Kim and said, “Uh, look—”

Before she could say anything else, Kim said, “Hey, I need to

get going.”

Kim strode to the front door, Randi right behind her.

“Thanks for a great day,” Kim said as she pulled the door

open.

“Why don’t you stop by Pinkie’s tomorrow,” Randi suggested.

“A bunch of us are going to be there. They’re having a Valentine’s

Day party. For singles too, not just couples. Just an excuse to get

together.”

Kim looked startled. “Oh, I hadn’t even noticed it was

Valentine’s Day.”

“So you don’t have one, do you?” Randi asked.

“One what?”

“Valentine. Back home, I mean.”

“Oh, no!” Kim looked surprised. “I’m definitely single. I

thought you knew.”

“Okay, then,” Randi said, realizing how relieved she was to

hear that, “you may as well come by.”

“See you there.”

Randi watched her walk to the curb, then turned her attention

back to Danya, who was draped across the couch, looking

uninterested in Kim, Randi and the world in general. She was

combing at her hair with her hand.

“So why didn’t you go to the interview?” Randi asked.

“Such a long way to drive. And it was a lousy job anyway.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re in a position to be all that choosy.

How would you even know it was a lousy job?”

Danya shrugged.

“So you decided to stay here and party instead?”

“A girl’s got to have a little fun. I ran into Nicki at the store

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and we decided to come back here. We had a nice time.”

“You embarrassed me in front of Kim.”

“Embarrassed you? How?”

“The pot, for one thing. You’ve been smoking pot in my

house!”

“Damn, Randi, when did you become such a prude?”

“Have you been drinking too? If there’s liquor in this

house—”

“No, no liquor. I told you I quit. That’s the truth.”

Randi sighed. She recognized that she felt threatened. Her

need for order was being trampled on.

Danya slid off the couch and came over to Randi, touching

her cheek gently. “Thanks to you,” she said, “I’m still okay.

You’re the best friend a girl ever had, Rocky. You’ve always come

through for me. You’re the one person in the world that I know

I can count on.”

That kind of endorsement meant a lot to Randi. It was the

exact opposite, in fact, of those stinging words that Irene had left

her with. She felt herself soften.

“Sorry if I embarrassed you,” Danya said, looking contrite.

“That Kim’s really cute.”

Randi shrugged. “I guess.”

A car pulled up in front. Randi looked out to see Danya’s

Jetta. Nicki came up the walkway with a white paper bag, her

spiky black hair turning midnight blue as she passed into the

shade of the house. “The tacos are here!” she called through the

screen door. “Oh, hi, Randi, you’re back. How about something

to eat?”

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Sunday afternoon Kim showed up at Pinkie’s to find a

crowd there. There were free appetizers making the rounds and

streamers of pink, white and red crisscrossing the ceiling. Randi’s

friend Gareth was flitting about in a Cupid costume—a pink

bikini and sparkly bow with a paper arrow glued to it, a garland

of paper hearts on his head. He danced by Kim and aimed his

arrow at her mischievously, drawing a spontaneous laugh.

The music playing was Bette Midler singing old romantic

standards. A few couples were dancing slow. Minnie and Blair

were at the bar. Seeing Blair was a little awkward, considering

how they had last parted, but Blair came over, took her by the

arm and walked her up to the bar, saying, “I’m so happy you

came. I was hoping you would.” To Jeff, she yelled, “A glass of

white wine for Kim!”

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“No,” Kim objected, her voice raised toward Jeff. “I think I’ll

have iced tea today.”

Blair made a pouty face. Kim wasn’t going down that road

again. The memory of that night still stung. Perhaps, Kim

thought, looking at Blair, I’m destined to fall into nothing but

awkward scenes with these Yuma women during my stay here, just

one nutty misstep after another. At least the prospect of walking

away in a couple of months hung out there on the horizon like an

absolution. Perfect opportunity to make a fool of yourself when

you could walk away like that.

“Hi, you guys,” Randi said, approaching the bar. Her friend

Danya was right behind her.

Jeff placed a tall glass of iced tea on the bar in front of Kim.

Danya looked a little more presentable today than she had

yesterday when they had apparently rousted her out of bed.

Kim had recognized the smell of marijuana in Randi’s house and

wondered if that was as much a surprise to her as it had been

to Kim. She had looked taken aback. But who was this Danya

anyway? Kim wondered. And what was she doing living at Randi’s

house?

“What have you been up to since I saw you last?” Blair asked,

shifting Kim’s attention away from Randi.

“Just working, mainly,” Kim said.

“Oh, what a shame. I hope that’s not all you’re planning on

doing while you’re here.”

In order not to have to shout, Kim moved closer to Blair and

said, “I’m not interested in romance. Just here to have a little

fun.”Blair grinned. “Then we’re on the same wavelength, aren’t

we? I just want to have a little fun myself.”

Hopeless, Kim decided, shaking her head.

Minnie suddenly grabbed hold of Blair’s hand and pulled her

onto the dance floor. Randi went to dance with one of the guys.

Kim recognized the song as an oldie from the Fifties, something

by Jerry Lee Lewis. Randi and her partner Tony stepped through

some highly coordinated moves of a Fifties-era dance.

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“What is that they’re doing?” Kim asked Danya, who was

standing next to her at the bar.

“Jitterbug.”

Kim nodded. “Oh, sure. I should have recognized it. I’ve

never done it, though.”

“Randi loves those old dances. She knows ’em all. The Fifties

dances are her favorites.”

Kim drank her iced tea, watching Randi and Tony dance.

They were fast and smooth, and fun to watch. The music changed

again and suddenly Randi was leading, twirling and dipping Tony.

The guys at the table nearest them hooted. Kim felt her face

stretched into a wide smile.

“Boy,” Danya breathed, “that reminds me of the old days! It’s

great to see her dance like that again.”

“You and Randi know each other pretty well?” Kim asked.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve known each other forever. We were a

couple, you know, back in Phoenix.”

Kim struggled to keep astonishment out of her voice. “Oh?”

“Sure. I’m so glad we were able to reconnect and get back

together. She’s the best, really. I just love her to death.”

This time Kim made no effort to disguise her surprise. “You

mean, you and Randi are together?”

Danya nodded. “Didn’t she tell you that?”

“Oh... no, she didn’t.”

“Well, we are.” Danya’s voice was firm, her look severe. “For

good, this time. I made some mistakes the first time around, but

it won’t happen again.”

Kim realized she was disappointed to hear that Randi and

Danya were a couple. The depth of her disappointment, in fact,

took her by surprise. She’d gotten the impression, yesterday, that

Danya was simply a houseguest. All the time that Kim had been

spending trying to talk herself out of being attracted to Randi

was wasted after all. Randi wasn’t even available. Not that Randi

had ever given her any encouragement at all. Maybe the reason

for that was now clear. Maybe there were a lot of reasons, but this

one reason was plenty all by itself. It’s better this way, Kim told

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herself, trying to push her disappointment aside. With only two

more months in Yuma, I have no business getting involved with

Randi anyway.

Kim stood observing Danya for a few minutes, trying to

imagine why Randi would be attracted to her. Maybe it had

something to do with the good old days, their first time around.

That was a powerful draw for a lot of women. Hard to give up

old lovers.

Danya moved off and Kim noticed that Minnie, who had

reappeared at the bar, stared after her with obvious dislike. “Do

you know her?” Kim asked, moving closer.

“No. She just turned up out of nowhere.”

“They knew each other before, I guess, in Phoenix.”

“Randi’s such a soft touch, taking in that mongrel. She’s bad

news, I can just feel it.”

Kim felt a little sympathetic toward Minnie, whose bitterness

wasn’t the least bit disguised. She recalled again the inexplicable

scene she’d witnessed the night that Randi had tossed Minnie

down the bar. Was there any way to explain that that could justify

Minnie’s feelings?

“You think Randi’s a soft touch?” Kim asked.

Minnie screwed her face into a what-are-you-nuts expression.

“Yeah!”

“But she can be tough too, right? Maybe even sort of mean

on occasion?”

Minnie looked perplexed. Love is blind, Kim thought.

Maybe even deaf and dumb. She was about to ask something

more specific when the song finished and Randi stumbled up to

the bar, out of breath.

“Jeff, hit me!” she said.

Jeff poured her a Diet Coke, which she immediately guzzled

down to about half. There was a bead of sweat running down her

temple. Danya stepped between Kim and Randi and wiped the

sweat off Randi’s temple with a napkin, tenderly, in a gesture of

ownership that left Kim feeling like she was watching something

private.

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Embarrassed, she turned impulsively to Blair and asked,

“Want to dance?”

“Sure,” Blair said with a delighted smile.

Blair held her tight and close as they moved to Bette Midler’s

“Tenderly.” Kim’s view directly in front of her was of Blair’s lovely

bosom, which was pressed up against her own. Her recollection

of touching that silky skin with her lips was a pleasant one.

She couldn’t remember everything about that night, but she

did remember the sensation of Blair’s body on hers, flush with

passionate desire. The woman was smoldering.

About halfway through the song, Kim felt Blair’s hand move

down past her waist to the seat of her jeans. Kim reached behind

her and lifted it back up. She glanced over at the bar and saw

Randi facing the dance floor, leaning against the bar, watching

them closely. What’s she thinking? Kim wondered. Then she

thought, what difference does it make?

It might be nice, Kim thought, to have a spring fling while

she was in town. Blair was certainly game for it. If ever there was

a time and place for a no-strings affair, this was it. She would

probably never be in this town again, never see any of these

women again. Blair’s getting to me, Kim realized. She’s going to

wear me down if I let her. That didn’t seem like such a bad idea

at the moment.

Kim smiled encouragingly at Blair, who slid her hand back

down to her ass. She let it stay this time. Blair pushed her hips

hard up against Kim’s and whispered in her ear. “I want to lap

you up like a kitten with a bowl of cream.”

Oh, damn! Kim thought, her stomach turning a flip. There’s

really no reason to resist, she told herself. This is bound to

be sweet and it wouldn’t hurt anybody. As Blair’s body moved

suggestively against hers and she imagined taking this dance

to Blair’s bedroom, Kim grew hotter and hotter. Another few

minutes, she thought, and I’m going to suggest we get out of here.

At the beginning of their second dance, Randi walked up and

tapped Blair on the shoulder, cutting in. Blair frowned and went

back to the bar. Is she trying to save me again, Kim wondered, as

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Randi took hold of her hand. She didn’t hold her close like Blair

had, but she was a better dancer.

“Blair’s really into you,” Randi observed. “Looks sort of

mutual.”

“She’s a sexy girl,” Kim answered.

“True. There’s hardly a woman in Yuma who hasn’t found

that out for herself.”

“Oh, Randi,” Kim said, “that’s catty.”

Randi didn’t answer. She just applied a little more pressure

against Kim’s back and led her through the dance.

It’s none of your business if I’m interested in Blair, Kim

wanted to say, especially since you’re with someone else. Randi

seemed to think she was in charge of everything. But Kim wasn’t

going to make the mistake of offending her again, so she said

nothing.

As the song ended, Kim turned to leave the floor. Randi

grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “Let’s try a faster one,”

she said. “More my style.”

The new song was one of those old rock ’n’ roll tunes. Randi

twirled her and held her hand as they danced apart. Kim started

to have fun, watching Randi stomping in her cowboy boots, her

head bopping as she pulled Kim close and then spun her away

again. Definitely more her style, Kim thought. She’s really good

at this. Kim got spun around so many times, she felt a little dizzy

by the end of the song.

“Gotta take a break,” she told Randi.

Randi nodded and released her hand.

Kim made her way through the other dancers and out the

open back door to the courtyard. Standing with her back to the

doorway, a woman was talking to a man who was seated at the

redwood table. Kim easily recognized Blair’s reddish gold hair

and shapely legs. The man’s face was obscured from view by

Blair’s body.

“Yes, it was unbelievable,” Blair was saying. “She just came

charging into my bedroom while we were making out and

abducted her. Just dragged her out, literally right out from under

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me, and took off with her.”

“Did she want Kim for herself?” the man asked.

Kim stopped where she was at the mention of her name,

realizing that neither of them could see her.

“No,” Blair said. “I’m sure nothing like that was going on.

After all, Minnie went along, so they weren’t alone. I have no

idea why she did that. It was the most bizarre thing! You can

be sure it isn’t going to happen again. Kim is mine tonight and

Randi will have nothing to say about it.”

“You sound pretty confident.”

Blair laughed. “I would place bets on it. That volcano is already

spitting lava. My bedroom is going to be erupting tonight.”

Randi would appreciate a metaphor like that, Kim thought

as Blair twirled around like a ballerina, caught sight of Kim, and

stopped in mid-twirl.

“Hey, Kim,” Blair said, trying to look casual. “Have you met

George?”

The man in the chair stood, revealing that he was tall and big

like a bouncer. “Hello, Kim,” he said. “I think I’ll go get another

drink.”

George seemed anxious to escape this awkward scene. He

went into the bar, leaving the two women alone. Blair approached

and took hold of Kim’s hand. “How long were you standing there

spying on me?” she asked.

“About a minute,” Kim said. “Long enough to know you were

talking about me.”

Blair nodded. “Yes, I was talking about you. I was telling

George how much I like you and how much I hope we can see

more of each other.” Blair moved closer. “And by see more of

each other, I think you know what I mean.”

Kim didn’t so much mind being talked about, but Blair’s

attitude did bother her. Listening to her talk to George, Kim

realized just how impersonal this seduction was for Blair. Just

the new girl, a potential conquest. Blair didn’t even know her.

In fact, Kim recalled, Blair’s interest had begun the moment

they met. Blair not only didn’t know anything about her, she

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didn’t care to know anything. There was nothing very flattering

about that. And although Kim never had imagined that this was

about love, hearing Blair talk like that made it seem detached

and perfunctory. It had been fun to think about it for a while,

to imagine this kind of passionate interlude with an attractive

woman who wouldn’t ask for anything but physical pleasure. No

emotional complications. But I’m not really made that way, Kim

told herself, for this kind of fun, even if I am going to walk away

from here in two months.

“Come home with me,” Blair said, putting her arms loosely

around Kim’s waist, her eyes turning green, her lips pursed. “Be

my valentine.”

Kim was unmoved. The spell was broken.

“I think I’ll pass,” she said. “No volcano’s erupting tonight,

Blair.”

Blair released her, looking disappointed. “You’re upset about

what I said to George?”

Kim shook her head. “No. It just isn’t what I want to do. I’m

sorry if I misled you.”

“Spoilsport.” Blair pouted.

“Yeah,” Kim said, “I guess so.”

She headed for the door to the bar, thinking that sex was not

really a sport to her. She had never been casual about sex and,

as intriguing as it had seemed a little while ago, she thought she

probably never would be. There had to be something more than

just physical attraction for her. Still, she felt some disappointment

walking away from that sizzling magma chamber.

As she returned to the dim room where classic rock music

was still playing, she saw that nobody was dancing. They were all

standing or sitting with their eyes on the bar. Kim turned to look,

then gasped. Minnie was lying face down on top of the bar where

Randi had a firm grasp on the seat of her pants.

Oh, my God! thought Kim, alarmed. This isn’t happening!

She couldn’t believe what she was witnessing, but there was

little doubt that Randi was about to fling Minnie down the bar

again, and there was no one else close enough to stop her. Kim

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lunged toward Randi, grabbed hold of her shoulder and spun her

around.

“What the—” Randi said, releasing Minnie and stumbling

sideways.

Kim took hold of Randi’s shoulders, pulled her away from the

bar, and then shoved her with all her strength. Randi stumbled

backward, fell against a table, then rolled off, her arms flailing.

Just before she hit the floor, her hand caught the back of a chair,

which came down on top of her.

Minnie jumped down from the bar with surprising agility.

“What the hell?” she hollered at Kim.

She ran over to Randi and moved the chair away as Randi

rolled over, holding a hand to her nose. Minnie helped her into

a sitting position as a crowd gathered around her. Danya came

running, kneeling beside Randi with her right fist clenched.

“Deck her!” Danya said through her teeth, obviously poised

for a fight.

Oh, shit, thought Kim, imagining getting pummeled into a

quivering bloody pulp by Randi. But the look on Randi’s face, as

she recovered her senses and looked in Kim’s direction, wasn’t

rage but bewilderment.

Kim hadn’t moved, standing dumbfounded, startled by both

her own actions and everyone else’s response. Jeff, who had come

out from behind the bar to stand beside her, said calmly, “Lover’s

tiff?”Kim didn’t know what to say. Was everybody in this town

a lunatic? Most of all Minnie, who was sitting beside Randi on

the floor, stroking her face and cooing at her. Randi climbed

uncertainly to her feet, pressing a hand protectively against her

rib cage, and faced Kim with a questioning look.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“I—” started Kim. “I thought you were going to throw her

down the bar.”

Randi looked at Minnie and then back at Kim. “I was,” she

said. “So what?”

Randi still looked confused. Suddenly, Minnie burst out

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laughing. Randi’s expression gradually changed to amusement,

but Kim was still in the dark.

“Come here and sit down,” Randi said, taking a seat at the

table she had fallen over. Kim sat beside her. “George,” called

Randi. “Why don’t you demonstrate? I think my nose is broken

and I’m not up to it.”

George approached the bar and lifted Minnie onto it

effortlessly. Kim watched as he flattened her out on top of the

bar, which Kim now noticed was completely clear, and flung her

down the length of it. Minnie went sailing, tucking herself into

a tight ball just before hitting the wall. She bounced off the wall

and to the floor, rolling twice, and then hopping upright. She

held her arms up in a triumphant stance. Everyone else clapped

and whistled.

“It’s her thing,” Randi said. “She’s a stuntwoman. She’s

practicing for the movies.”

“Let’s do another one,” Minnie said to George. “Throw me

through the doorway.”

Nobody was paying any attention to Kim now as George

picked up Minnie and prepared for this new trick. Randi was

grinning.

“I’m so sorry,” Kim said. “Are you badly hurt?”

“Just bruises. I think I should get some ice for my nose,

though.”

Kim put together an ice pack with a towel and brought it

to Randi, who placed it gently over her nose, which was visibly

swelling.

“Do you want me to take you to a doctor?” Kim asked.

“I don’t think it’s broken after all,” Randi said, her voice

sounding a little nasally. “Damn, I thought my days of bar fighting

were over. Maybe I’ll just go home, take an aspirin, and relax a

little.”

“I’ll drive you,” offered Kim.

“No, thanks. I can drive.”

“I can drive,” Danya interjected.

“You stay here and have fun,” Randi told her. “You can catch

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a ride home later.”

“No, I’ll come with you and make sure you’re okay.”

Danya glared at Kim, who followed them outside, apologizing

again.

“In a way,” said Randi, unlocking her truck, “that was an

extremely gallant act, especially since Minnie doesn’t even like

you.”“Minnie doesn’t like me?”

Randi looked momentarily alarmed, then laughed nervously.

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. Sorry, I’m sort of muddle-

headed right now.”

“You’ve probably got a concussion,” Danya chimed in, taking

the keys from her.

Randi climbed into the passenger seat and shut her door. “Are

you going back in?” she asked through the open window.

Kim shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Too embarrassing.

I guess I’ll just go home too.”

“Isn’t Blair expecting you?” Randi’s tone was slightly accusing.

Her eyes looked especially dark with the sunset behind her.

It suddenly occurred to Kim that Randi was jealous.

Everything made so much more sense that way, especially Randi’s

continuing attempts to deflect her from Blair. Kim had thought

it was Randi’s sense of responsibility that had been motivating

her, a natural, if misplaced protectiveness. But apparently it was

more personal. What right does she have to be jealous of Blair?

Kim wondered. But at the same time, a cozy warmth spread over

her with the idea that Randi had those kinds of feelings for her.

“No,” Kim said. “Nobody is expecting me. I’ll be home. If

you change your mind about the doctor, call me. I’ll be happy to

go with you.”

Randi smiled, a bit crookedly due to the pain in her face. “In

just a matter of days, Tilley, this is going to be a funny story. And

I can guarantee you that you have now made a legacy for yourself

at Pinkie’s.”

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Calling in sick on a Monday isn’t like Randi,” Steve

complained to everybody in general and Kim in particular when

she showed up at the BLM office Monday morning. “I hope

to God she didn’t fall off the wagon. She’s come up with some

cockamamie story about some woman attacking her at Pinkie’s

and nearly breaking her nose. Ridiculous. I’ve got to say that I’ve

never known Randi to lie before.”

“It isn’t a lie,” Kim stated.

Steve stared at her. “What do you know about it?”

“I’m the woman who attacked her.”

Steve stared some more, his mustache twitching almost

imperceptibly.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Kim explained. “I definitely

didn’t intend to hurt anyone. But she did take a nasty fall.”

He shook his head, as if trying to clear it out, then lowered

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himself slowly into his desk chair. “Okay,” he said at last. “You

were at Pinkie’s Valentine’s party?”

Kim hesitated for a second, then said, “Yes.” There was

something liberating about being in a place temporarily. She

didn’t have to worry about what people knew about her or what

they thought as a result. She could be herself in a way she wasn’t

accustomed to. She liked it.

Steve took a deep breath. “I see. Is there something that I

don’t understand about you female scientists? Is there some kind

of rule or something that you have to be gay?”

Kim smiled. “Yes, it’s a requirement.”

“That’s a shame, at least from my point of view.” Steve sighed

melodramatically. “I hope there’s no bad blood between you two,

though.”

“No, not at all,” Kim assured him. “We’ve become great

friends.”

“Good,” he said, but then looked at her suspiciously.

He’s a funny guy, Kim thought, leaving the office. She called

Ramon and told him that she wouldn’t be going to the site after

all, that she had office work she wanted to do today. Then she

went out and bought a get well card and a cheerful bouquet of

daisies. Outside the flower shop, she sat in her truck and wrote a

friendly message in the card. As she was about to sign her name,

she changed her mind and signed “Tilley” instead.

Arriving at Randi’s house, Kim carried her gift to the door

and rang the bell. She could hear Breeze inside barking, and then

heard Randi call his name. But it was Danya who opened the

door. Her greeting, “Oh, hi,” was cold. She stood with a hand on

her hip, her expression challenging.

“Hi,” Kim said. “I’ve brought a peace offering for Randi.

How is she doing?”

“Bruised up. Ribs tender. Face a mess.” Danya reached out to

take the flowers, then said with finality, “I’ll tell her you dropped

by.”Kim was about to object when she heard Randi from the back

of the house call out, “Who is it?”

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“It’s your assailant,” Danya hollered back.

Randi appeared then, approaching the door. She was wearing

blue pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, her feet bare, her hair in a

ponytail instead of the usual braid.

“Hi, Tilley!” she said.

Kim was relieved to hear the friendly tone, but she was

alarmed to see the black and blue discoloration across the top of

Randi’s swollen nose and across one cheekbone. Kim winced at

the sight.

“Looks worse than it is,” Randi assured her. “Nothing broken.”

“When I heard you’d called in sick,” Kim said, “I felt pretty

bad and thought I’d bring you something cheerful.”

“Thanks. Pretty bouquet. I’m sore in a couple of places.

Mainly ribs. Should be fine by tomorrow. Except this, of course.”

She indicated her bruised face. “Don’t know what I’m going

to tell my students this week. No matter what I tell them, I’m

sure they will come up with their own wild explanation anyway.

Although getting beat up in a gay bar is wild enough, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t say you got ‘beat up.’”

“No, you’re right. Maybe sucker punched.”

Danya carried the flowers inside and Randi took the card

from Kim. With a ponytail and wearing pajamas, Randi looked

softer than she usually did. She didn’t look anything like a cowgirl

today, just a girl, a very pretty girl with a bruised face.

Randi pulled out the card and read it, then looked up. “Thank

you. Very thoughtful.”

They stood looking at each other silently. Kim felt an

affection toward Randi that she hadn’t felt before, something

that went beyond just the physical attraction. It wasn’t just that

she felt sorry for messing up her face. Things had changed since

yesterday. She wondered if Randi knew that, if she felt it too.

Danya reappeared, inserting herself next to Randi in the

doorway, a near-snarl on her face.

“Uh,” Kim said awkwardly, “I hope you feel better soon. I’m

really sorry.”

Randi nodded and smiled reassuringly.

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“If there’s anything I can do—”

“Naw, I’m fine. And, you know, Danya’s here.”

“Right. Well, then, I’ll be going. Bye.”

Kim went home, feeling at loose ends. She had been expecting

to be invited in, to be able to do something useful, to spend some

time visiting. But Danya was extremely possessive and Kim had

felt her bristling like a cat against an intruder as they had faced

one another in the doorway. Assailant, indeed, Kim thought with

irritation. Even if Danya hadn’t been there, though, Kim didn’t

know if Randi would have welcomed her. Kim was frustrated.

Just like Minnie, she did not like Danya. Also like Minnie,

her feelings had their roots in jealousy. Danya represented an

impediment. Minnie had more right to those feelings than she

did, though. She knew it was an inappropriate attitude, but

feelings have a way of bypassing intellect.

She spent the rest of the day working in her trailer, listening to

music. She found it hard to concentrate because she kept thinking

about Randi and her swollen nose. She ended up accomplishing

very little.

Tuesday, Ramon was clearly distracted and seemed unhappy.

When they stopped for their lunch break, Kim asked, “Is there

something wrong?”

He shrugged and didn’t look at her. “I’m just thinking about

things.”

“Things?”

“Sophie. We had a fight.”

“Oh. A serious fight?”

“Maybe. She wants to get married, have kids, you know.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“I wouldn’t mind getting married, and eventually having

kids, but I’ve been thinking about maybe going to a university,

you know, like we talked about.”

“She has a problem with that?”

He shook his head. “She says her life is here. And mine

too. My friends, they say the same thing. They ask me why I’m

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pretending to be a big shot, hanging out with you, thinking I’m

somebody.”

Kim was taken aback. She didn’t really know what to say. This

was a situation she had never encountered and never imagined.

“You are somebody,” she said. “Why shouldn’t you have a

dream and pursue it?”

“I don’t know. It seems so unrealistic. A few months ago my

dream was an A.A. degree and a job with the city. The other is

something I can barely imagine.”

“That’s the thing about dreams. Why bother if you don’t

have one that’s just a little bit out of reach?”

He was looking at the ground again.

“If Sophie can’t see what you’re capable of, you’ve got to

persuade her. Make her see your dream, Ramon. Make it her

dream too. Make her want it.”

He looked at her sideways. “How do I do that?”

“By being positive and confident, by painting a picture for

her.”“That’s not so easy to do. Even my parents are trying to talk

me out of it.”

“Why? Why would they do that?”

“Nobody in my family has ever gone to college. I’m the first.

They only agreed to let me because I could show them the job

I was after. They thought it was a realistic goal, and it was only

two years. I finally had them convinced about that, that it was

worthwhile. Now they think I’m just in love with school, that

I’m indecisive, and I’ll be one of those guys who goes to school

till he’s thirty and has nothing to show for it. I can see their side.

This is so different to them. They can’t imagine that I would

actually be able to do it. And I don’t know if I could.”

Kim saw a tear fall to the ground at his feet. She had had

no idea what he was going through. She herself had come from

a family with two college-educated parents who had insisted

she go to college and had paid for it. She knew of people who

struggled, who did it on their own, and she admired them. But

for parents to discourage a college education, that was something

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else entirely. She wasn’t familiar with that position.

“They just don’t want me to waste my life,” Ramon

explained.

“At least we all agree about that! I think it’s time you invite

me to dinner, Ramon. Time I meet your parents. I want to thank

your mother personally, anyway, for all of the fabulous lunches.

Speaking of which, what did you bring today? I’m starving.”

Ramon’s face brightened as he opened the lunch tote and

offered her a fat beef enchilada with a smoky red sauce.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“That city girl sure did a number on you,” joked Dolly when

Randi showed up at the restaurant for lunch. This was the refrain

around town and Randi was getting tired of hearing it, but she

smiled good-naturedly anyway. She also didn’t like it that her

tough-guy reputation was marred by the incident. Everybody

was making it seem like there’d been an actual fight and she had

lost. After a few attempts, she gave up trying to explain. Let them

have their fun, she thought, even if it is at my expense.

The restaurant was crowded, so Randi took a stool at the bar.

“Hey,” she boasted to Dolly, “you should see her!”

“I have seen her,” Dolly said. “Last night. Not a mark on her.

So what’ll ya have?”

Randi sighed. “How about a cheeseburger?”

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At least Kim had been properly remorseful. Poor thing. Lovely

bouquet she had brought over. Danya was more jealous than

ever. It was all she could do to put the flowers in a vase without

smashing them. That wasn’t totally unreasonable, Randi thought,

remembering how crazy she had felt watching Blair dancing with

Kim at the Valentine’s party. Did they have to dance that close?

Randi didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow Blair had

lost her chance with Kim that night. For that, Randi was relieved.

She liked Kim more and more and was finding it harder to come

up with reasons not to like her. Her original assumptions had

turned out to be mostly false. There was still the ambition thing.

That appeared to be true at least. There was nothing inherently

evil about that, though. Wasn’t even a negative thing, really, as

long as it was done honestly without stepping on anybody.

After several years of holding herself at a distance from love,

Randi knew that getting involved with Kim would be disastrous.

Having almost always made bad choices in lovers, she had resolved

to do it right next time. This was her new life, her responsible,

respectable, sober new life where she made right and honorable

decisions and didn’t subject herself to unnecessary emotional

turmoil. For these reasons, Danya had no chance to win her back,

though obviously Danya didn’t believe that. And Kim was just

one of those if-only or might-have-been things. Neither a short-

term nor a long-distance relationship was acceptable. Nope,

Randi thought firmly, Kim had to be avoided.

Dolly slid a cheeseburger and fries onto the counter, again

clicking her tongue in dismay at Randi’s bruises, then grinning

like a mischievous child. Randi gave her an exaggerated frown.

Looking down the bar to locate a ketchup bottle for her fries,

she was surprised to see Flynn, a glass of beer in his hand,

talking loudly to an old man she didn’t know, possibly one of the

wintering snowbirds.

“They all said it was a lot of damned nonsense!” he was

saying, sloshing his beer. “Said it was just a story. But I knew. I

knew it was the real deal all along.”

Randi left her plate on the counter and approached him.

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“Flynn!” she said loudly, getting his attention. “I didn’t know you

were coming to town today.”

He lifted his glass to her and slid off his stool. “Randi Girl! I

found it! Hey, what happened to your face?”

“Never mind about that. What did you find?”

“The gold! The Wolff gold!”

“Flynn, you’re drunk.”

“Hell’s bells, girl!” he said. “Of course I am. That’s what I

came in here for, to celebrate. But I still found it.”

“Sure, sure,” Randi said, humoring him. “So where’d you find

it?” “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said, evasively.

“You didn’t find anything,” she said, “except in your

dreams.”

Flynn slammed his glass onto the bar and looked indignant,

a scowl on his face. He put his hand in his pocket, groping for

something, then slapped a small object into Randi’s hand. Randi

looked at it for a second before closing her hand over what was

undeniably a genuine gold nugget the size of a grape.

“There!” he said. “What do you think of that?”

Randi grabbed him by the arm and dragged him roughly

behind her through the crowd.

“What the heck are ya doing?” he hollered, stumbling

along.

She pulled him out the front door and around the corner

of the building into a side street, where she pushed him onto a

wooden bench. Then she sat down beside him and opened her

hand to look more carefully at the nugget.

“It’s real,” he said.

“Where did you get this?”

“Didn’t I just tell you that? I found it just where he said. It

was there the whole time.”

“Hendy Wash?” she asked, knowing that he would think she

meant the phony Hendy.

He shook his head. “Nope. That part was wrong, but the rest

was just like it was supposed to be.”

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“Where?” she pressed. “Was it the wash that runs by Black

Point, then?”

His eyes widened in surprise.

“That’s it, right?” she asked.

He pursed his lips and stared hard at her. He wasn’t going

to answer, but his expression had given it away. If he was telling

the truth, he’d found the gold in the real Hendy Wash. But how

could he have known to look there?

“Now, Flynn, if this really is the Wolff gold, you know it

doesn’t belong to you.”

Still he said nothing. While they spoke, Randi kept an eye

out for anyone within hearing, but they were off the main street

and, at the moment, safe from being overheard.

“So where is it now?” she asked.

“Safe. I took out a couple of nuggets and buried it back where

I found it. It’s been safe there for a hundred and fifty years, hasn’t

it? It’ll be safe there a while longer.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy you dinner and then you can have

a nice comfortable sleepover at the Lamplighter. Tomorrow you

can show me where the gold is buried. Chances are, I can get you

a reward. Okay, that’s settled, then.”

“Hey, give me back my nugget.”

“I’ll give it to you tomorrow when you’re sober. Wouldn’t

want you flashing it around to anybody else tonight.”

He frowned, but didn’t argue. She didn’t really know if Flynn

had found the buried treasure or not. It hardly seemed likely,

but he had found something because the nugget she put into

her pocket was the real thing. Once he was sober and rested, he

would either come clean with the real story or lead her to the

treasure. Flynn wouldn’t run off with it, she was sure of that.

What he wanted more than anything was the notoriety.

She took him to the steakhouse where they both had a steak

and baked potato, then a slice of boysenberry pie for dessert.

As Flynn sobered up, he stuck to his story, but refused to tell

her anything. Instead, he launched into old tales of youthful

adventures, most of which she had heard before.

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She left him at the Lamplighter in a clean room with a hot

shower and a soft bed, hoping a night of civilized pleasure would

put him in an agreeable frame of mind.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Randi told him. “Don’t talk to

anybody else about this. Some damned fool is liable to believe

you.”

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

It was close to nine o’clock when a cloud of dust came

barreling up the road and the white BLM truck sped past the

site without slowing down and without the customary honk of

the horn.

“Randi?” asked Ramon.

“I suppose it is. Early for her to be out here, though. And sort

of odd she didn’t stop to say hello.”

“Maybe she’s mad at you for breaking her nose.” Ramon

grinned.

“So you heard about that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I didn’t break her nose. Just bruised it.”

“I heard you punched her out in a jealous rage over some

woman named Blair.”

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“What?” Kim said, indignantly. “That is a complete

fabrication. It was nothing to do with Blair.”

“Oh, so there is a woman named Blair. Not a complete

fabrication, then.”

“You know, you’re getting a little cheeky.”

He grinned again. Now that Kim had met his family, they

seemed to be on a more familiar footing. She had spent the

previous evening at his home over a fabulous meal and some

interesting conversation with his parents.

“What did you bring for lunch today? I’m already hungry.

Any of that chicken enchilada casserole from last night?”

“No, there was none left. You finished it off, remember?”

“That was a memorable meal. Memorable evening too. I like

your parents. Sensible people.”

“They liked you too. We had a talk after you left. My father

said you were very persuasive.”

“Really? Are they on board, then, with the university plan?”

“They are if I can get a scholarship.” Ramon was beaming.

“Fantastic! Are you happy?”

Ramon nodded vigorously. “Thanks to you. Hearing you

explain about archaeology in terms of careers really helped. I

didn’t even think about all those things myself. I mean, it made an

impression for all of us when you said the district archaeologist

at BLM was retiring this year and there was an opening right

here in Yuma. I thought I’d have to be a college professor if I was

an archaeologist.”

Kim raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh,” he said, quickly, “nothing wrong with that. You just

gave us other things to think about, that’s all.”

“Good. So keep filling out those scholarship applications.”

Ramon nodded, then put his headphones on to return to his

work.

Surrounded by Ramon’s parents and siblings at dinner, Kim

had found herself defending her profession as a practical choice

for someone like him. It wasn’t all Indiana Jones. In fact, for most

people, it was nothing like that. It was scientists working for the

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federal and state governments—in Flagstaff, Tucson, even Yuma.

That’s where the example of Matt at the BLM office had come in.

Removing the romantic, fantastical misconceptions had helped

them see this as a possibility for their son. It must have helped

too that she praised his enthusiasm and dedication. She wanted

them to dream large for Ramon, to believe that he was capable

of going further than their original plan and beyond their own

accomplishments, the perpetual dream of parents.

Less than an hour after Randi had gone through, a sheriff’s

car came by, heading in the same direction as the BLM truck.

“Something’s up,” Kim said as the dust cloud moved off in

the distance. “Let’s go check it out.”

They ran back to the truck and drove to the only other

destination along this route, Flynn’s shack.

Sure enough, the BLM truck and sheriff’s car were parked

outside next to Flynn’s green pickup. Randi emerged through

the doorway of the dwelling and simply looked at Kim without

expression. Something was obviously wrong. Breeze was sitting

in the passenger side of her truck, his eyes intent on Randi.

“What’s happened?” Kim asked, approaching her. She noticed

that the bruises on her face had lightened from purple to green

and her nose no longer looked swollen. “Is Flynn okay?”

“He’s not here,” Randi reported. “He’s missing. And his

place has been trashed, big time. They even ripped up the

floorboards.”

“They? What do you mean they? Who?”

Randi shrugged. “I have no idea. Somebody. Somebody

looking for the gold.”

“Gold? What gold?”

Randi frowned, looking slightly annoyed. “He was in town

yesterday boasting around that he’d found the Wolff treasure.”

“Really? Just boasting, though, right? I mean, he didn’t find

it?” “I don’t know. He had this.” Randi fished something out of

her pocket and held it in her open palm.

“Is that real gold?” Kim asked.

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“Yes, it’s real.”

“Could he have gotten it out of his own mine?”

“Probably not.” Randi tucked the gold back into her pocket.

“He pulverizes quartz for dust. Nothing like this.”

“So where did he get it?”

“He’s sticking to his story. If it wasn’t for the nugget, I’d think

he was just talking, like he does. He was supposed to come back

here with me this morning. I guess he decided to ditch me. He

left town before sunup. Obviously, he came home because his

truck is here.”

The sheriff’s deputy, a lean-faced man holding a shotgun

loosely at his side, came out of the shack. “Whoever did this was

thorough. I wonder if they got what they were looking for.” He

looked at Kim and said, “Who are you then?”

Randi introduced Deputy Nelson, explaining Kim’s work.

“Did you see anything this morning?” the deputy asked.

“Anybody come out here?”

“No, not until Randi came by. I got here about eight thirty.

Flynn must have come back earlier than that.”

“We need to find him,” Randi said, impatiently. “I’m going to

send Breeze out.”

“Whoever did this,” Deputy Nelson warned, “could still be

out here.”

Randi nodded and let Breeze out of the truck while the

deputy radioed back to the sheriff’s office. Kim, feeling useless,

sat on her tailgate next to Ramon. Breeze was soon running this

way and that sniffing for Flynn. Randi stood leaning against her

pickup. Kim noticed she was holding an eight-by-ten photo, the

corner of which was torn off. Kim recognized it immediately as

the one she had given to Flynn.

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Randi said, not looking at

them. “Should have known he would ditch me.”

“Why did he?” Kim asked.

“Maybe he was considering keeping the gold. He’s been

looking to hit it rich all his life. It’s been his one dream. If he did

find it, he probably felt like he deserved to keep it. I can’t really

189

blame him. He knew I would take it away and turn it over.” Randi

held up the photo. “You took this?”

“I did,” said Ramon.

“Found it on the floor,” Randi said. “Must have been hanging

up, though. There are nail holes in the corners. Pretty good

picture of him. At least we have a picture if we need to give one

to the police or something.”

I never imagined that, Kim thought, when I gave it to him.

Deputy Nelson, finished with his call, walked over to the

group. “We’ll have a team out here in an hour,” he said. “We’ll

find him. He can’t have gone far without his vehicle.”

“If he’s here, Breeze will find him,” Randi said confidently.

But Breeze didn’t find Flynn. All he turned up was a jacket

in the mine shaft, a jacket that had apparently been left there for

when Flynn was working in his mine. It was obvious that Randi

was disappointed. Kim could see how worried she was and she

felt helpless, having no comfort to offer.

When the sheriff’s party arrived, Randi put Breeze back in

the truck. “You should get back to work,” she told Kim. “I don’t

think there’s much we can do here.”

“What about you?” Kim asked.

“I’ll drop Breeze home, then go into the office.”

Kim and Ramon went back to their site. They resumed

working, but Kim’s mind was preoccupied with the drama that

was unfolding nearby as the sheriff’s team searched for Flynn.

The phrase “dead or alive” attached itself to that thought at some

point, causing her to shiver. It wasn’t out of the question that

Flynn was dead. People got killed for a lot less than a treasure

like this. Somebody had apparently believed his story, somebody

who had overheard his claims.

As Kim sat working in the shade of the outcrop, she tried to

imagine what had transpired this morning before she and Ramon

had arrived. Someone had come out here and ransacked Flynn’s

hut, that much was obvious. Was that before Flynn arrived? Had

Flynn come home and caught the marauder in the act? Had a

fight ensued? Was Flynn killed? Or maybe kidnapped? If they

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didn’t find the gold, they might have kidnapped him to torture

him. Right now he might be in some old warehouse or basement,

half-conscious and bloodied, stubbornly refusing to talk. After

all, if he wouldn’t tell Randi, why would he tell the bad guys?

Kim realized she was imposing scenes from television onto her

thoughts. She had no idea if such things happened in real life.

But if they did, she thought, this would be a likely place for it.

She lived in a very different world. Randi would probably say

she lived in an ivory tower, far removed from the grit of human

existence. For the most part, that was true. People like Flynn

and the man or men who had kidnapped him were not people

she knew or ever had known. These kinds of people frightened

her. They didn’t seem to frighten Randi. She moved comfortably

among many types of people. She had some experience, Kim

decided, on the wrong side of the tracks. In this environment,

with all of these characters living outside the law, that experience

was valuable.

Kim couldn’t help feeling that she would be relieved when

she got home to California where the most threatening moment

of her day would be an irate driver giving her the finger on the

freeway.

For Randi’s sake, as well as Flynn’s, Kim hoped he would turn

up safely. If he didn’t, Randi was obviously prepared to blame

herself. The tenderness that Kim had begun to feel toward Randi

the day she’d knocked her down was deepening. She didn’t want

to see Randi unhappy. In fact, she thought that Randi’s smile was

about the prettiest thing she had seen since arriving in Yuma,

especially when it was directed at her.

191

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Kim sat across from Matt at a picnic table in the BLM

demonstration garden. She had spread some photos out between

them so they could talk about specific petroglyphs. Matt

seemed like a congenial, easygoing man. She sensed none of the

resentment from him that Randi’s behavior had led her to expect.

He was relaxed, casual and had slipped immediately into a mode

of convivial colleague with her. His long career in the desert had

marked his face with well-defined creases that joined with his

deep-set eyes to give him the appearance of a wise man.

“I’d agree with you about this one,” he said, pointing to a

faint anthromorph wearing a headdress. “Anasazi, that’s what

I’ve always thought. Not too many of those, but there are a

few. And the rest, like you say, Hohokam, mainly. The Patayan

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angle is harder to pin down because even the Hohokam glyphs

are not quite what we expect. The two cultural groups seem to

have been living close enough in this area to develop a style that

incorporates elements of both. That makes this site interesting,

of course, if not unique.”

“Definitely interesting,” Kim said. “I appreciate your opinion.

I was also wondering if there are any we’ve missed, some that

might be removed from the main groupings.”

He brushed his fine silver hair back from his forehead.

“There’s a small spiral about a hundred yards west of the main

site, your Site A here.”

“Oh, yes, we’ve found that one.”

“Have you found the handprint?” he asked, his light eyes

twinkling.

Kim, intrigued, said, “No. No handprints. Is there a handprint?”

“Yes, there’s just one. Not too common around here. Not a

print, of course, but somebody traced the outline of his hand and

then scraped it clean with a hammer stone.”

“Where is it?”

“The main site. If you’re on the west side, just about where

you see a series of four antelope about yay big.” Matt held his

fingers three inches apart. “Lie down on the ground and scoot

yourself right up against the panel and look up with a flashlight.

There’s a crevice there where two rocks come together.”

Delighted, Kim said, “Thank you!”

He nodded. “There are still a few secrets out there waiting

to be discovered.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Kim asked.

“Shoot.”

“Why haven’t you ever done a formal survey of any of the

artifacts in the area?”

He shrugged. “I suppose there’s a little part of me that just

doesn’t like the idea. I like to think of them as wild and untamed.

What you’re doing is a kind of domestication like the capture

of a wild horse. A horse that’s been broken is diminished. That’s

why they call it ‘broken.’”

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“Rock art isn’t alive.”

Matt smiled a little mischievously. “Not to you.”

“Point taken.”

“Whatever the reason the ancestors drew those symbols, they

didn’t do it for tourism. I like the idea of somebody walking along

in the desert and just stumbling across them. No parking lot, no

BLM sign listing all the rules about no touching, no trashing.

Just lying out there under the sky like they were when they were

made.”

“I guess that’s where Randi gets her point of view.”

He laughed. “Randi’s a little less realistic than I am. I’m glad

you’re here doing this. It needs to be done. As I said, a tiny part

of me wants to keep them wild. A bigger part of me is just not

interested in that sort of work. I’ll sit there and look at them and

think up stories about them. You do all the details and report

writing.”

“Not a desk job sort of guy, huh?” Kim asked, smiling.

“Right. One of the great things about this job is that it kept

me in the field a good part of the time. A few years back I was

offered the District Manager job. Turned it down. They gave it

to Steve instead. He’s much better suited.”

“It was a promotion, wasn’t it?”

“Depends on how you look at things. It was more money.

But you’ve got personnel issues to deal with, all the reporting,

budgeting, on and on! I figure you’re in the workforce for thirty-

five years. It’s not like you can afford to wait until your career

is over to have a good time. I managed to have a good time all

along. I don’t believe in putting off your life, spending it working

toward something, some pie-in-the-sky dream. Six years of that,

to get you through college, that’s okay, but not thirty-five!”

Kim nodded.

“I just wasn’t ambitious,” Matt added. “Once I got to a place

that suited me, I stopped. Like the ancestors. Very practical,

economical people. They didn’t build a skyscraper just to say

they had the tallest building. If they built up high, it was to

protect themselves from something down low. They didn’t resist

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and struggle against nature. They went along with it as much as

possible.”

“Yes. That’s something we assume when we try to understand

why they did what they did. Why they settled in a particular spot

or why they moved on. You know there was a good reason for

it.” “Let me tell you a story. This is about my great, great, about

twenty times great-grandfather. He was a tribal chief in the Four

Corners area. He was very tall and had black hair that came down

to his waist.”

Kim, confused, said, “So how do you know that?”

Matt touched his forefinger to his forehead. “Memories,” he

said. “Ancestral memories. Why do you think the ancestors had

no written language? They didn’t need to write anything down.

Their children and their children’s children remember what

happened.”

Before her eyes, Matt seemed to take on the guise of an

ancient as he proceeded to tell her a story about a long-dead

Indian chief with a deep scar across his left cheek and a wife with

mysteriously light-colored eyes.

195

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Deputy Nelson called Randi late in the day to report that

nothing had been found. Flynn was still missing. She had been

worried and frustrated all day, unable to concentrate on her work.

She stared at the photo of Flynn that she’d been carrying around

since he disappeared. He was grinning widely with his gap tooth

visible, standing in front of the petroglyphs, his clothes loose and

worn, his face lined and leathery.

“Where the hell are you?” Randi asked the photo quietly.

Obviously, someone thought Flynn had found the gold. She

was still skeptical. How could he have found it when the clues they

had were so useless? On the chance she had missed something,

she went to talk to Bill, the BLM botanist, a transplant from

North Dakota, fair-haired, fair-skinned and often pink from the

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Arizona sunshine. He never went outside without sunscreen, a

wide-brimmed hat and long sleeves. His complexion was hardly

suited to his locale, but after more than twenty years of peeling

sunburns, his knowledge of desert flora was incontestable.

“Do you know any place around here where there might be

palm trees,” Randi asked. “Wild ones, I mean?”

He rubbed his hand over the reddish stubble on his chin.

“Yeah, those palms in Kofa Wildlife Refuge.”

“Other than those. Anything near the Gila, up in the feeder

washes?”

Bill shook his head. “No, no palms there. The thing about

palms—they’re pretty good indicators of a freshwater source, like

a spring. They’re practically required for an oasis. So we know

where they are. We’ve known for hundreds of years where the

water is in the desert. Any people living out here knew where to

find water. They couldn’t have survived otherwise. Even artificial

water sources, like the rock tanks the early settlers built, appear

on the maps. You’re not going to find any palms out there we

don’t know about because there aren’t any water sources we don’t

know about.”

“What about a hundred and fifty years ago?” she asked.

Again, he shook his head. “You’re not the first person to ask

these questions, Randi. It’s not like I haven’t been through this

before. If there were palms in any of those washes back then, they

are long gone and any evidence of them is also gone. I suppose

the soil would still retain the plant material, chemical evidence,

but you’d need to know where to test in the first place to verify it.

You’re not going to just stumble on the right spot by chance.”

“I’m just trying to figure out if there’s any way Flynn really

could have found it.”

“The whole town is buzzing with this story,” Bill said, looking

sympathetic. “I don’t see how he could have found it, though.

But, hey, I hope he’s okay.”

Bill had merely confirmed what Randi already suspected. It

didn’t seem possible that Flynn had found the Wolff gold with no

new information to go on. No, he had probably found that one

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nugget and presented it as evidence that he’d found the treasure.

He was the man who cried Wolff, Randi thought, and, if she had

not been so downcast, she might have found that amusing. For

his indiscretion, it was possible that he had gotten himself killed.

The only hope Randi had was that no body had yet been found.

The one thing that troubled her about this likely explanation

was that Flynn had been so insistent, even after she told him she

didn’t believe him, that he had found the treasure. Yes, he was

a kidder and a boaster, but he wasn’t quite a liar. Maybe he was

delusional. He wanted to find that treasure so badly for so long,

maybe he’d finally gone over the edge. She didn’t really believe

that either, though, so she was left with a puzzle.

Randi was on her way out of the building after work

when she saw Kim and Matt seated at the picnic table in the

demonstration garden. Matt was talking too quietly for Randi to

hear, gesturing with both hands. He looked like he was telling

one of his stories.

Randi approached the table as Kim said, “That’s quite a story.

Very amusing.”

“Oh, hi, Randi,” Matt said jovially. “Kim and I were just

talking about Black Point. Sounds like she’s got a good handle on

it. Knows her stuff.”

Kim glanced at Randi with a look of inquiry, as though she

expected Matt’s statement to be contradicted. Randi wasn’t about

to do that. On the table between them were some photographs

of the petroglyphs.

“I’m glad there’s finally going to be a survey of these sites,”

Matt said. “I was telling Kim here about that archaeologist,

Fordham, who came through here back in the Seventies. If I can

dig up his book, there’s a chapter in it about the rock art near the

Gila with some black-and-white photos. That missing panel, the

one that was stolen, could be in one of those photos. That book

has been out of print for decades and I haven’t looked at it in

quite a while myself.”

“I’d love to see it,” Kim said, eagerness on her face. “I’ve seen

references to it, but haven’t found a copy of the book anywhere.”

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“That was probably the first thing written about them,” Matt

continued. “And you know about the later work. But I have to say

that the sketch Nellie made is right on. That’s pretty much what

they looked like.”

Kim nodded, then looked up at Randi with a concerned

expression. “Anything about Flynn?”

“No,” Randi replied. “Nothing.”

“Now that’s a nasty bit of business,” Matt said. “It makes me

wonder if you should even be working out there right now with

somebody out there tearing up property and who knows what

else. That area is funny that way. The more people there are

around, the more dangerous it is.”

“The sheriff is out there patrolling,” Randi said, “at least for

the time being.”

“And I don’t have much choice,” Kim said. “If I don’t get this

job done by April, it isn’t going to happen until next winter.”

“Maybe you should get off your can,” Randi suggested to

Matt, “and go out there and help. Nobody knows more about

Black Point than you do.”

He leaned back and laughed. “No thanks. Gotta use up my

sick leave and I have to do it by June. I gotta get out of here.

That’s what I promised my wife. Not one more summer in this

town. I don’t think she ever did get used to the heat and we’ve

been here for thirty-five years. By July, we’re going to be sailing

out into the Pacific with an ocean breeze, pelicans and the setting

sun.”Matt’s impatience to leave Yuma seemed a betrayal of sorts.

He seemed almost euphoric thinking about his escape. “We’ve

got a setting sun here too,” Randi said, realizing that she was

saying nothing. Her feelings were not rational, she knew. But

Matt was her friend and she had been missing him already since

he went on leave. He was a big part of why she had so quickly

become one with this place. His sense of identity with the land

had infected her and she didn’t understand how he could so easily

leave it behind.

“I’m going to expect to see you,” Matt said, “over there.

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You come anytime and we’ll go sailing. Maybe we’ll go whale

watching even. Besides, it sounds to me like Kim has everything

well under control. She doesn’t need some old guy telling her

what’s what.” He winked at Kim.

Kim gathered her photographs into a neat pile. “Thank you

for the background,” she told Matt. “It’s very helpful.”

“I’ll dig out that book,” he said. “I’ll leave it here at the office

for you when I find it.”

Matt clambered out of the picnic table and pulled a baseball

cap over his thin silver hair. “See you later,” he said, then walked

over to his car.

“He’s entertaining,” Kim said.

Randi smiled. “Yep. He is that.”

“Hey, I can’t see any bruises on your face. How’s your

nose?”

“All better. Just about fully recovered.”

“Good. You’re off work for the day, I guess.”

Randi nodded.

“Would you like to go to dinner?” Kim stood, looking at

Randi with a hopeful smile.

So she still hasn’t given up on that, Randi thought, hesitating.

She’s still trying to be friends. What’s the point? She’s going to

be leaving soon. What does she want from me? she wondered,

feeling ambivalent. She did want to go to dinner with Kim. She

wanted more than that, even, but under the circumstances, there

was just too much at stake. She couldn’t afford to let her guard

down. She knew she had been giving Kim mixed signals since the

day they met. Must be confusing for her, but didn’t she see that

they had nothing to offer one another?

Seeing Randi hesitate made Kim add, “It’s not a date, you

understand. I’m not suggesting...I mean, I know that you and

Danya are together.”

“What?” Randi asked, confused.

“Uh,” Kim started, “you and Danya. That’s her name, right?

The woman who’s living with you, the old flame from Phoenix.”

“Yes, that’s her name. What makes you think we’re a couple?

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Just because she’s staying at my house for a few weeks, you don’t

have to assume that.”

“Oh, it isn’t an assumption. She told me herself at the

Valentine’s party.”

“She told you what exactly?” Randi asked with an ominous

feeling.

“She told me the two of you had resumed your old

relationship. Gotten back together.”

Kim was beginning to look and sound uneasy. Randi was

beginning to get angry. She found herself shaking her head

involuntarily. “No,” she said. “If she said that, she was lying to

you. We’re just friends. I mean, we were more than that once, a

long time ago, but there is absolutely nothing like that going on

now.”

“Oh, okay.”

“No, really,” Randi insisted.

“Yes, I get it. I guess I misunderstood.”

Kim was just trying to be polite now, Randi could tell,

pretending that it had been her mistake and not Danya

intentionally misleading her.

“Sorry. I need to get home,” Randi said, turning toward her

truck, wondering what excuse Danya was going to come up with

this time.

“Bye,” Kim called, her voice tinged with confusion.

“She misunderstood,” was Danya’s response when Randi

confronted her. “I was talking about the past.”

“I don’t think so. I think you told her we were together

now.”

“Why would I say that?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

“So who are you going to believe? Your oldest friend or some

stranger from California?”

Randi took a deep breath. “To be honest, Danya, I believe

her. And I want to know why you told her that.”

“What difference does it make?”

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Randi felt herself losing her temper. “What difference does

it make? It’s a lie!”

“I mean, why do you care what she thinks? Are you interested

in her after all? You wanna get in that girl’s pants, Rocky?” Danya’s

expression was an accusing sneer.

“That’s none of your business,” Randi said, suppressing an

old, familiar rage.

Danya moved closer. “Oh, so that’s it. You like her. Isn’t that

cute? You think you have a chance with a woman like that?”

“I—“ Randi began.

“Other side of the tracks, Rocky. She’s uptown. I bet she’s

never been busted for so much as shoplifting a pack of cigarettes.

A fucking university professor! Just because you teach at a

community college in this dump of a town doesn’t mean you’re

in her league.” Danya stood next to Randi, talking low but

emphatically so that Randi could feel her breath on her cheek.

“You’re one six-pack away from being somebody she’d step over

in the gutter.”

Randi glared, feeling her right hand tighten into a fist.

“Are you going to hit me, Rocky?” Danya taunted.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Randi said, willing her hand

to relax. “You’d like to see me brought down. Why is that, Danya?

So I’d have nothing but you? So I’d need you? Just you and me,

wallowing in one another’s self-pity, just like the good old days.

Is that it?”

Danya took a step back, her expression blank.

Randi took a deep breath and felt her composure returning.

“Pack your things and get out,” she said calmly.

“What?” Danya looked stunned. “You’re kicking me out for

telling a tiny, harmless lie to your girlfriend?”

“I’m kicking you out for wanting to destroy me.”

“Oh, come on, Randi, that’s so melodramatic. I’m not trying

to destroy anything. I just wanted to keep her away from you,

you know. I was hoping for a little more time. Maybe I could

show you it could work between us. Things are different now.

We’re both older and wiser.”

202

“This isn’t about Kim,” Randi said. “It’s about how you make

me feel about myself and how you want to go back, to have things

like they used to be. Things were fucked up back then, Danya. I

was fucked up! You were fucked up! Why do you want to go back

there?”

“Those were my good times, Rocky,” she said, lowering her

gaze. “Yours too, right? It doesn’t look like you’re having so much

fun here.”

“Yes, well, fun isn’t really what I’m going for anymore.”

Danya looked up, her eyes sad and, Randi thought, a little

scared. “Are you really kicking me out?”

Randi nodded, steeling herself.

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t know. Visit your mother. I’m sure she’d like to see

you.”“My mother! Are you nuts?”

“I don’t care where you go. You have to leave here, though.

You’re not good for me. I need to take care of myself.”

Danya pursed her lips, her lank body slumping in resignation.

“Randi,” she said, “you aren’t as weak as you think you are. You’ve

really made it, you know? Please don’t make me leave. Not yet.

Just a couple more weeks. Time to get something figured out.”

Danya had a pathetic look on her face like a dog in an animal

shelter.

“I won’t cause you any more trouble,” she promised. “I’ll

even go apologize to Kim if you want.”

“You stay away from her!”

“Okay, whatever you say. I haven’t been sober very long. I

really need your help.”

“I’ll give you two more weeks. You find yourself a job. Or

you find someone else who will take you in. I think your mother

would be happy to see you, especially without the booze. I can

call her for you if you want. Your mom always liked me.”

Danya grabbed her arm, her look desperate. “No!” she said.

“Don’t call my mother.”

“Okay,” Randi said, confused by Danya’s agitation.

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Danya released her, forcing a smile. “You don’t need to do

that,” she said, more calmly. “I can call her if I decide to go there.

Two weeks. I get it, Rocky. Don’t worry. I’ll get my shit together

and be outta here by then.”

Randi was still angry at Danya when she fell asleep. She was

determined to stick with the two-week deadline, even if at the

end of it Danya was still penniless, friendless and homeless. Even

without the booze, Danya was still trouble, and Randi felt a new

urgency to be free of her.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Site A contains at least two hundred and thirty distinct images,

Kim typed on her laptop, representing three discrete styles and

multiple temporal periods. Most are almost certainly from the Ceramic

Period, presumed to be Hohokam. These reside alongside an older set of

images with occasional superimposition and light repatination. The older

images exhibit characteristics of the Archaic period and are presumed to

be Anasazi. Many of these are too faint to distinguish.

When her phone rang, Kim glanced at the clock. It was still

early, only nine o’clock on a Saturday, but she had already been

up for three hours working.

“Hi, Tilley,” said Randi on the other end of the line. “I thought

I’d let you know that Matt dropped that book off for you at the

office yesterday afternoon, the one by that guy, Fordham. I took it

home. I thought you might want to look at it over the weekend.”

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“Oh, yes,” Kim said, “I definitely do. I was just working on

my site report. I’m hoping to get quite a bit done today.”

“So you’re not going to the festival?”

Kim remembered hearing something about a weekend

event from Ramon, but she hadn’t paid that much attention.

“Festival?”

“It’s Yuma Crossing Day. Big deal here. Everybody goes.”

“Are you going?”

“Sure. I’m just on my way out. I was going to drop the book

off on my way.”

“What kind of festival is it exactly?” Kim asked.

“Oh, you know, just a shindig to honor the various groups

who came through here back in the day—Native Americans,

Spanish, pioneers, Forty-Niners. Right up your alley, I would say,

especially since that’s the whole point of the petroglyphs, right,

the old crossroads.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“I’m going to be working the BLM booth from ten until one

o’clock, so I need to get going. Shall I drop the book off?”

“Yes, if you have time.”

As soon as she was off the phone, Kim made up her mind to

go to the festival. She yanked on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt

and ran a comb through her hair just as Randi’s pickup coasted

up to her door. She was outside and opening the door to the

passenger side before Randi had time to cut the engine. She

hopped in.

“Hey,” Randi said, looking confused.

“I need a lift to the festival.”

Randi raised one eyebrow, then shifted into drive.

“Thank you,” Kim said, noticing that Randi wasn’t

accessorizing her uniform with the cowboy hat today. Apparently,

being on call to meet the public, she was being well behaved. But

she did have her cowboy boots on.

On their way downtown, Randi asked, “How are you getting

back home?”

“I’m sure I can find a ride if, as you say, everybody is there.

206

And if not, you can take me when you get off duty.”

A small smile appeared on Randi’s face, as if it manifested

itself against her will, then she drove downtown where a throng

of people milled around streets lined with booths with white

canvas covers.

“Hey,” Randi said, “we can catch the end of the parade before

I have to start my shift.”

Kim followed Randi at a fast clip to a sidewalk along the

parade route. City officials in cars passed by, waving. People

dressed as Spanish Conquistadors, miners and pioneers walked

past. There was one covered wagon, drawn by horses, complete

with a pioneer family spilling out the back. A sizable troupe of

Native Americans in traditional clothing followed the Yuma

High Band on foot and horseback. Kim was startled to recognize

Nellie driving her colorful cart, a burro in a straw hat pulling her

along. Today she was dressed in fringed buckskin with a many-

stranded turquoise necklace on her chest, looking more than ever

like her First Nation ancestors.

Kim grabbed Randi’s arm to get her attention, pointing out

Nellie as she approached. Randi stuck two fingers in her mouth

and let out a shrill whistle. Nellie looked their way, then waved

enthusiastically.

“I’ve got to go,” Randi said in Kim’s ear. “The BLM booth is

right at the corner of State Street if you need to find me.”

Kim watched the end of the parade before setting off on her

own. As she began to smell food, she realized that she hadn’t

eaten anything since a six o’clock piece of toast. She followed her

nose to a booth where she stood in line to order the specialty,

Indian tacos. That was Arizona’s state dish, she was told by the

man who handed her a paper tray of Indian fry bread topped

with beef, lettuce, tomatoes and cheese. Kim found a bench,

folded her taco and ate while watching people pass. She didn’t

expect to see anyone she knew, but while she was eating, Darlene

and Trina came by.

“Oh, hi,” Kim said, wiping grease off her chin.

“Did you see the Indian artifacts for sale?” Darlene asked.

207

“There are some nice pieces there. Might be of interest to you.”

“I haven’t seen anything yet,” Kim said. “Haven’t been here

long.”

“Down that way,” Trina said, pointing. She then peered with

interest at Kim’s lunch. “That looks good. Hey, babe, let’s go find

something to eat.”

“See ya,” Darlene said as Trina grabbed her hand to lead her

to food.

When Kim had finished her taco, she spent some time at

a booth displaying fossils and minerals, hovering momentarily

over a beautiful piece of malachite. She considered buying it for

Randi, but decided against it. She had seen only a few pieces

of Randi’s rock collection and had to assume there was more to

it. She had no idea what she had, what she liked. But the main

reason was that she realized that an expensive gift would be

awkward and might even damage the tentative friendship they

had managed to forge. For whatever reason, Randi was keeping

her distance and Kim needed to respect that.

Even so, she had not been able to help the relief she had

felt over learning that Danya and Randi were not romantically

involved after all. She had been so delighted, in fact, that soon

after hearing that, she had actually danced in the tiny space

between her trailer walls as her microwave dinner cooked. It

hadn’t been a rational response. Even if Randi didn’t belong to

Danya, she also didn’t appear to be available to Kim. And since

she had only a little over a month left in town, that was for the

best. So she resisted her urge to buy Randi a gift, as she had been

resisting so many urges toward Randi lately.

Eventually she reached the tables with the articles of her

main interest—tools, baskets and pottery of native peoples.

Her collection of pottery was not large, but it was selective. She

looked often, but she rarely bought a piece. She didn’t expect to

buy anything today, but she did enjoy browsing. Perhaps more

than this, she liked looking at the display pieces that collectors

brought to show off, items not for sale at any price. While she

was admiring an impressive Zuni pot, a short, stocky man in

208

jeans, boots and a brown Stetson suddenly appeared at her side.

He had one lazy eye and yellow teeth.

“Mornin’,” he said, looking her up and down.

“Good morning,” she replied.

“Nice piece, isn’t it?”

“Extremely fine.”

“I got that in Nuevo Mexicano,” he said, hooking his thumbs

in his belt loops and puffing out his chest. “Anything special

you’re interested in?”

“I go mainly for pottery. In particular, I’m always looking

for polychrome ware by the Gutierrez family of the Santa Clara

Pueblo.”

“You know your stuff. I don’t have anything right now by them.

But I do have a few pieces from Santa Clara. Lois Redbird.”

“Yes, I saw them. They’re beautiful, but I prefer the more

traditional patterns. By the way, the black wedding vases you

have over there are counterfeit.”

“Oh, no!” he objected. “All authentic. I go right to the

source.”

“Nevertheless,” Kim maintained, “not everything here is the

real thing.” She reached over and picked up a bowl with a faded

black-and-white design and a jagged hole through the center.

“This, for instance.”

“Mimbres,” he said confidently. “You be careful with that.

One of a kind.”

“A replica.”

“No way! That was found in a burial site on private land.

Legal and authentic.”

Kim shook her head, turning the bowl over in her hand. Too

bad it wasn’t the real thing, she thought, admiring the design.

She would have bought it on the spot. There weren’t that many

of these around outside of museums. “The color is off,” she said.

“And the weight isn’t right.”

“Now how would you know that?” he asked, skeptical.

“It’s lovely, but it isn’t genuine. It’s not even a decent copy.”

He took the bowl from her and set it back in place. “Damn! I

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guess I’ve been had.” He grinned, showing off his yellow teeth.

Kim looked at him sideways and said, “I guess. You might

want to lower the price on that or somebody might think you’re

trying to pass it off as an original. Could get you into some

serious trouble.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, then said, “Aren’t you that

archaeologist?”

“I’m an archaeologist, yes. Kim Gatlin.”

“Working out at Black Point, right?”

“How do you know that?” Kim asked, noticing that he didn’t

bother to introduce himself.

“It’s my business, isn’t it? Cultural artifacts. Word gets

around. You found anything out there other than the rock art?”

“Some obsidian flakes. Charcoal stain. No pottery shards.

Nothing like that.”

“That’s what I figured. Good luck with your glyphs,” he said,

dismissively, then turned toward another customer.

Kim took one of the business cards from the display table

and stuck it in her back pocket, then moved on.

After a couple of hours, she headed toward the BLM

booth where Randi slouched in a metal folding chair with her

feet perched on the edge of the table. The BLM insignia was

prominently displayed on the front of the booth and brochures

were neatly arranged across the table. Randi smiled easily at Kim

and offered her a chair.

“Having fun?” she asked.

“Sure. Lots of interesting stuff.”

“You’ve picked up some of it, I see,” Randi said, indicating

Kim’s shopping bags.

Kim took out one of her purchases and unwrapped the tissue

paper to show Randi an ammonite fossil. “This is for one of my

nephews.”

“Very nice,” Randi said, taking it in her hand. “Pyrite. Good

choice.”

“Thanks.” Kim took the fossil back and wrapped it carefully.

“I got one similar for the other boy. I’m sure they would both

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rather have me bring them a velociraptor, but I think they’ll like

these.”

“It sort of goes with the territory, doesn’t it, animal fossils

and hominid bones. I mean, your profession makes you sort of an

expert in other types of fossils.”

“Sure. You and I had to learn a lot of the same things in

school.”

“How did you memorize the Paleozoic eras?”

Kim laughed. “Oh, wow! Let me try to remember.”

“Come On, Suzie,” Randi chanted, “Dance, My Pretty

Princess.”

“Oh, I’ve never heard that one. How cute.”

“I’m still using those in my night class. I have the students

make up their own. They get a kick out of it. Did you remember

one?”

“Yes. How about this? Clever old sages die mouthing poetic

passages.”

“Oh! I like it!”

Simultaneously, as if they had rehearsed it, they both said,

“Cambrian, Ordovician, Silurian, Devonian, Mississippian,

Pennsylvanian, Permian.” Then they both laughed.

Kim put the fossil back in its bag and sat in the folding chair

beside Randi. “So how are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m watching the clock. When I get off here, I’m heading

for that little cantina down the way for a cold drink and a plate

of carne asada.”

“I’ll be glad to bring it to you,” Kim offered.

Randi’s face lit up. “Oh, that would be great.”

Heading for the cantina, Kim felt happier about her chore

than was warranted, as if she had won some victory by being

allowed to wait on Randi. She felt a little silly about that. A few

minutes later she brought the food back and handed it over,

saying, “Lunch is on me.”

Randi shrugged and said, “Thanks,” sitting up in her chair

to eat.

“Who’s going to relieve you at one?” Kim asked.

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“Bill.”

Kim pulled the business card out of her pocket and set it

on the table next to Randi’s plate. “Do you know this guy?” she

asked.

Randi read the card. “Lucas Thornton? Nope. Why?”

“He’s not quite above board. A bunch of his stuff is counterfeit

and I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of it is also black market. He

gave me the creeps.”

“Bound to be some of that here,” Randi said. “Same thing

with fossils. You really have to know what you’re looking at.” She

sopped up the sauce in her plate with a tortilla as a boy shoved a

rolled-up poster in her face, wordlessly indicating that he wanted

to buy it.

“Six dollars,” she said. “Tilley, can you take his money, please?”

Kim conducted the transaction, noticing that the poster

was an artist’s conception of life in the Sonoran desert from the

burrowers under the ground to the birds in the air and teeming

mammals, reptiles, insects and plants in between. The same

poster hung at the back of the booth. It was colorful and busy.

By the time the boy had gone, Randi was tossing her plate in the

trash and it was one o’clock.

Bill arrived right on schedule, so Randi and Kim went off to

look at mineral displays.

Randi didn’t seem to even see the beautiful piece of malachite

Kim had thought of earlier as a potential present. Instead, she

went directly to a gray hunk of rock that she identified for Kim

as wolframite. Kim smiled to herself. She should have known. A

geologist saw a different kind of beauty in rocks, a beauty that had

nothing to do with bright colors or sparkle factor. Kim imagined

it had something to do with the crystal structure or the particular

composition of a piece. The beauty of a rock for a geologist was

influenced by the much greater depth of knowledge of how and

under what circumstances it was formed. It wasn’t much different

from any other discipline. A deeper appreciation of a thing often

came from a deeper understanding. That could even be said of

people sometimes.

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“Exceptional,” Randi said, holding the wolframite firmly in

her palm, feeling the heft of it. Then she replaced it and turned

to move on. One of her students appeared at her side, wanting to

engage her in a discussion of the various rocks on display. While

Randi was talking to him, Kim turned the wolframite over to

check the price. It was expensive, more than she had guessed.

Maybe as a thank you gift when she left Yuma, it would be okay,

wouldn’t arouse any suspicions or create awkward expectations.

Kim paid for the mineral and tucked it into her tote bag, then

caught up with Randi a few feet further on.

Kim spent the next hour at Randi’s side as they made their

way among the booths, stopping frequently to speak to friends

and acquaintances of Randi’s. Kim knew a few of these people

already, but most were strangers. It did seem as if everyone in

town was out for the event and that just about everybody knew

Randi.

When Kim attended a festival in Sacramento, no matter what

kind, like the Jazz Jubilee or something smaller, it was very rare

for her to run into someone she knew. Everything was just so

much larger there. And because of that, less personal.

They made very little progress moving through the street

due to the constant stopping to greet friends. Kim found herself

being introduced repeatedly as, “This is my friend, Kim.” The

first time Randi introduced her that way, she was surprised. She

had expected, “This is Dr. Gatlin from California.” The “my

friend” part made her feel grateful. Again, she felt a little silly for

being so desperate for a shred of goodwill from Randi. It had just

been so long coming.

“Hey,” Randi said, taking Kim’s elbow and turning her toward

a food booth, “have you ever had a date shake?”

“Date shake?” Kim said. “Sure. I’ve had a date shake, shiver,

quiver and moan.”

Randi laughed loudly, then shook her head.

Kim shrugged and said, “No, I never have.”

“Then come on. You have to have one once anyway.”

Randi ordered her a shake and Kim sipped it tentatively. It

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was cold, sweet and delicious. Randi smiled at her as she nodded

appreciatively.

It was just after three o’clock when Randi said, “I’m ready to

head home. You want me to take you back?”

Kim nodded and followed Randi to her pickup. “Thanks for

getting me out,” Kim said. “It was fun. And informative.”

“It’s nice to learn a bit about the place you’re living in,” Randi

said, starting the truck, “even if you’re only living there a few

months.”

“This place sort of grows on you,” Kim said, thinking about

her initial impression of the town back in January. “It definitely

has a personality. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but a distinctive

one anyway.”

Kim was getting used to sitting in the passenger seat beside

Randi, watching her drive, her right hand at the top of the

steering wheel, her left arm resting on the door frame. Her

driving posture was relaxed, confident.

“No word about Flynn yet?” Kim asked.

“No. Nelson said they’ve found nothing. They’re still

patrolling out there, but no more foot searches.”

The drive to Kim’s RV park was a short one. “Thanks for

the lift,” she said, hopping out of the idling truck in front of her

door.Randi nodded. The strong, silent type, Kim thought, not for

the first time. As she unlocked her front door, the pickup rolled

away.

214

CHAPTER THIRTY

Randi hadn’t even made it out of the trailer park before she

saw Matt’s book on the backseat. They’d both forgotten about

it. She looped back around to Kim’s trailer and took the book to

the door.

At her knock, Kim’s face appeared in the little window

toward the front of the trailer. “Come in,” she called through the

window.

Randi opened the door and stepped in, holding up the book.

“Oh, thanks!” Kim said. “I’m glad you remembered that.”

Kim immediately opened to the index at the back of the

book. “Here it is, Black Point!” Then she turned several pages

before stopping abruptly, looking up and catching Randi’s eye.

“Oh, sorry. Just curious.”

215

“That’s okay,” Randi said. “Enough fun for today, right? I

guess you’re anxious to get back to work.”

“Uh, no, not if you’re interested in doing something.” Kim

looked flustered. She squinted at Randi. “Are you? I mean, did

you want to go out? Catch a movie? Dinner?”

Randi was amused by Kim’s discomfort. Why was she so

nervous? Sexual tension? There was no denying it was there, had

been there all along. Randi herself wasn’t the least bit nervous,

though. Having spent the afternoon with Kim, she was feeling

relaxed and comfortable in her presence. Being here with her felt

familiar, like it would be the most natural thing in the world to

reach out, take this lovely woman in her arms and kiss her. She

had already had this feeling so many times, and each time had

pushed it away. It just wasn’t a good idea. There was no way it

could turn out well. Even if they were great together, there was

no time to find out, and the potential for pain was so great that it

just wasn’t worth it.

While Randi was talking to herself, trying to persuade herself

to turn away, it was already too late. Her arms were around Kim

and their lips were touching. And then their bodies were touching

and Randi was exploring Kim’s mouth more deeply.

Kim was compliant, eager, pressing herself in tightly. Randi

felt lost in long, luxurious kisses that reached deeper and deeper

into her, moving a powerful wave of desire closer and closer to

the surface. She felt Kim’s hands at her back, pulling her shirt free

from her slacks. She had a momentary thought that she shouldn’t

be making out in her uniform, and then thought, “What a fucking

stupid thing to think!” But the knowledge that her uniform was

now askew had a distancing effect on her, taking her far enough

out of the moment to regain her reason.

She released Kim’s mouth as Kim reached for the buttons on

her shirt. Randi grasped her hands in both of hers, holding them

fast. Kim, breathing hard and obviously on fire, looked at Randi

with distracted, questioning eyes.

Oh, God, she is so beautiful! thought Randi, already full

of regret for what she was about to do. “Let’s stop,” she said,

216

swallowing hard. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why start something we can’t finish?”

“It’s okay,” Kim said gently. “I know what the situation is.

We both do. Don’t worry about hurting me. I’m not expecting

anything from you.”

Randi spent half a second changing her mind and then

changing it back before releasing Kim’s hands and saying, “Okay,

then, let me say it this way. I don’t want me to get hurt. It’s not

worth the risk for me. Look, I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“I’m not sorry,” Kim mumbled.

Randi tried to smile, but felt her mouth resisting. “I’ve got

to go.”

She left in a hurry, afraid of her own ambivalence. She was

sure Kim wouldn’t understand because, as usual, she was giving

mixed signals. Kim probably thought she was playing some

manipulative game with her. And if Kim was angry with her, was

fed up with her, so much the better. That would just make it

easier to stay away from her.

When she got home, there was a note from Danya saying

that she was out with Nicki and there was a roasted chicken in

the fridge if she was hungry. Randi changed into shorts and a T-

shirt, then took Breeze out for a long walk into the deep shadows

of evening. She walked fast with long strides, far enough and fast

enough to try to forget the eager insistence of Kim’s mouth.

Her words, “I’m not expecting anything from you” told

Randi what she had already surmised, that Kim was available for

a no-strings romp. She had been looking to get laid ever since

she arrived in Yuma. She had tried first with Blair and Randi had

messed that up, so then she had turned her attention to Randi,

correctly concluding, no doubt, that Randi was attracted to her.

Ever since the night she had drunkenly asked Randi to kiss her,

her eyes had had an open invitation.

And why not? Randi thought. Why shouldn’t she find some

pleasure here? Perfect opportunity for it. She was single with a

217

finite stay, enough time to have some fun, but not establish any

serious ties. Randi wanted to kick herself for not letting Blair

have her. Blair would have known exactly how to take care of

Kim. She would have fucked her brains out and sent her home

satisfied. Nobody would have gotten hurt and Randi would not

now be aching so badly to be with her.

Randi noticed that the sun was disappearing behind the

mountains. She stopped and called to Breeze, who had run ahead.

She turned to head home, realizing that she hadn’t walked nearly

far enough to walk Kim out of her mind.

218

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Following Matt’s directions, Kim lay down in the dirt under

four antelope and scooted close in to the rocks with a flashlight

pointed up. And there it was, just as he said, a single hand tracing.

The hand wasn’t much bigger than her own. It was well defined,

etched deeply around the outer edge, then scraped clean inside.

The person who made this would have had to have lain on his

back exactly as Kim was doing now. He would have held his hand

up against the surface of the rock, in shadow, and traced it with

a sharp stone. Why had he put this in such a hidden place? Why

hide it? And from whom? These were questions that would never

be answered.

She pushed herself away from the crevice and called Ramon

over so he could see it too. As he lay looking up at the image, he

219

said, “Oh, my God, this is so cool!”

She handed him the camera so he could take some photos.

Then he emerged and sat up. “Congratulations on finding

that!”

“Actually, Matt Mendoza told me where to look. After thirty-

five years working out here, there are probably not too many

secrets he doesn’t know about. He’s an interesting man. I’m sorry

we weren’t able to work with him.”

Ramon stood and dusted off his shorts. “At least he told you

about that.”

“Yes. It’s something, isn’t it? One more mystery to add to our

collection.”

“I found a little mystery myself today.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“A piece of licorice.”

“A what?”

Ramon walked over to his station and then returned with a

Zip-loc bag containing a rope of black licorice. “It was just lying

here on the ground.”

Kim took the bag. The licorice was dusty, but not old. “We

haven’t brought any licorice out here, have we?”

“No.”

“Have you seen any other evidence of somebody being here

recently?”

He shook his head. Puzzled, Kim set the bag aside and went

back to work. She was keeping an eye out for Randi’s truck, hoping

she would come by. But the morning turned into afternoon and

nobody came. Kim wasn’t sure what was going on with Randi.

But she did know that her kisses had been unselfconscious and

full of longing, the sort of kiss a woman can’t give you if there’s

no real feeling behind it. It had been a long time since Kim had

been kissed like that, kisses that drew her whole body into the

moment. And just when Kim had thought there was no turning

back, Randi had stopped and fled like she had just remembered

a kettle boiling on the stove. And her excuse? She didn’t want to

get hurt. Could that really be true? She didn’t seem like the type

220

who would be that vulnerable. She was a complicated woman.

Or just a wacko. Maybe she’s a wacko, Kim thought. Damn

good kisser, though, for a wacko.

Randi didn’t come by the next day either and Kim wondered

if she was purposely avoiding her. Randi had no business on this

road, though, not since Flynn was gone, but that didn’t seem like

a reason to keep her away. She sort of expected Randi to come

out and check Flynn’s place every day, just in case he turned up.

Midmorning, Kim walked to the road to use the toilet and

noticed that there was no toilet paper.

“Damn it!” she said to herself, then remembered that she had

some Kleenex in the truck.

When she got back to the outcrop, she tapped Ramon on the

shoulder to get his attention. He looked up, squinting into the

sun, and removed his headphones.

“When you use the last of the toilet paper, you’ve got to

replace it. Or at least tell somebody so we can get some more.”

“I didn’t use it. There was a new roll there yesterday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh. I remember getting it out of the truck and putting

it in there.”

Kim scanned the horizon pointlessly, as if she might see a

toilet tissue bandit running across the desert. “We must have left

it unlocked. Maybe a coyote got in there and took it.”

“A coyote?” Ramon sprang to his feet. “Why would a coyote

want a roll of toilet paper?”

“To play catch with the other coyotes? TP somebody’s

house? How should I know?”

“Maybe you should call Randi and tell her. You know what

happened the last time somebody took some of our stuff.”

“Uh, maybe.”

If Randi didn’t want to see her, Kim didn’t want to intrude.

One thing she knew about Randi, though, was that she would

come if called. That could be a good thing this time because Kim

really did want to see her.

“Okay, I’ll call her.”

221

She called Randi’s cell phone, aware that her number would

show up, tipping Randi off. If she didn’t want to talk to her, she

wouldn’t answer.

“Hey, Tilley, what’s up?” Randi asked casually.

“There’s been an incident out here.”

“Oh? What?” Randi sounded mildly alarmed.

“A tiny incident,” Kim told her. “Probably nothing. I just

thought— Ramon thought you should know. A roll of toilet

paper disappeared overnight. From the Porta-Potti. Maybe some

animal.”

“Did you see any around on the ground?”

“No.”

“So you’re thinking a neat, dainty type of animal that could

open the spring-loaded door and take a roll of toilet paper intact

off to her den to build a nest or something like that?”

The sarcasm in Randi’s voice was so welcome that Kim felt

herself break into a wide smile. “Something like that, yes.”

“Seen anybody around lately?”

“No, nobody. Do you think it could be another group of

illegals?”

“I don’t know. Are you afraid?”

“No, not really. I mean, we’re fine, other than the fact that we

have no toilet paper. Just keeping you informed, that’s all.”

“Okay. Well, thanks.”

An hour after Kim hung up, she saw the BLM truck headed

their way and her pulse quickened. Ten minutes later Randi was

walking up wearing her white hat and sunglasses.

“Hey,” she said. “I replaced your toilet paper and put a couple

extras in your truck.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to—”

“I know, but it was no trouble. By the way, have you seen any

coyotes around here wiping their butts with Charmin?”

Ramon laughed and Randi grinned at her own joke.

“On a different subject,” Kim said, producing the licorice

baggie, “we found this right over there.”

Randi took the bag. “Today?”

222

“Yes. It could have been there a while, but obviously not

weeks or months.”

Randi looked confused. “Flynn loves these things,” she said.

“He has a perpetual supply of them.”

“Oh. Then that’s not so surprising. He was out here visiting

a couple of times, you know. Must have dropped it.”

“Yes,” Randi said thoughtfully. “I suppose so. Damn, I wish

something would turn up. I wish he would turn up is what I

mean. Alive. But if he were alive, we probably would have heard

from him by now.”

Randi sat on a boulder, staring silently across the dusty

landscape. A half a mile south two buzzards circled. Kim

wondered if Randi was watching them, thinking that maybe they

had zeroed in on something, not a dead rabbit, but the body of a

man. Kim decided not to give voice to this thought.

“Pretty hot today,” Randi said at last. “Your time’s running

out.”Randi sounded neither relieved nor disappointed, just

matter-of-fact. Kim didn’t know what to say. Why did she even

come out here? she wondered. A lizard ran past Randi’s boot and

she seemed to have forgotten Kim, was just watching the lizard,

so Kim sat in her beach chair with the laptop and returned to

her work. Apparently Randi was just going to sit out here and

be a distraction. After a few minutes, she started to whistle and

Kim looked up from the computer to give her a dirty look. She

stopped whistling, but stayed where she was.

After fifteen minutes of not being able to concentrate, Kim

put the laptop down and walked over to Randi. “Look, maybe

you should go,” she said.

“Why?”

“You’re bothering me.”

“I’m not making a sound.”

“No, but you’re distracting me. I can’t focus on my work with

you sitting here.”

“Oh, really?” Randi stood, grinning. “Can’t get me out of

your mind, huh?”

223

Kim glanced over at Ramon, who had his headphones on

as usual and was facing in the other direction. “Randi,” she said

firmly, “why don’t you make up your mind? Either cut it out or

follow through.”

Randi scowled. “Not in the mood for a little flirtation?”

“No. I think we’ve gone past that point.”

Randi’s expression relaxed into something passive and

unreadable. “Yeah, you’re right. See ya.”

She turned and headed for the road. Kim sighed, realizing

that she was glad she was going. It was true. She wasn’t in the

mood for flirting. She was merely annoyed by it. Once Randi had

kissed her, she was ready for the real thing. It had been some kiss,

had brought up feelings that had been lying dormant for a long

time, and she couldn’t help being disappointed that it hadn’t had

the same effect on Randi.

224

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Don’t they ever get tired of that song?” Minnie asked,

frowning and hooking the heel of her shoe on the brass rail along

the bottom of the bar.

The boys were dancing to “It’s Raining Men,” which was

blasting out of the jukebox. Minnie took a slow sip of her beer.

“Do you ever get tired of ‘I Fall to Pieces’?” Randi asked,

standing with her back to the bar.

Minnie raised her beer in a salute to Patsy. Despite her

professed dislike of the song, Minnie was tapping the railing with

her foot in time with the music. Darlene and Trina sat at one of

the tables drinking red wine.

“If you want to dance,” Minnie said after the music ended, “I

can play one of those Fifties tunes. Maybe ‘Ain’t That a Shame.’

225

How about a little Fats Domino?”

Randi laughed. “A little Fats Domino. That’s funny.”

Minnie tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at Randi. “Do

you want to dance or not?”

“No, I don’t think so. Don’t feel like it.” She turned around

to face the bar, then drained the last of her ginger ale. “Jeff,” she

said, “fill me up.”

Nicki came in from the pool room and walked up to the bar.

“Hi, Randi,” she said. “Is Danya here tonight?”

“No. She’s home.”

“I think I found somebody who wants to buy her car. I’ll just

give her a call, then.”

“Buy her car? She’s selling her car?”

Nicki nodded. “Yeah. Pretty cheap too.”

Nicki walked off, leaving Randi confused.

“Why are you letting that woman stay at your house?”

Minnie asked.

“She’s an old friend. Down on her luck. She needs help.”

“You’re such a big sap.”

“She’ll be gone next week.”

“Good, because she gives me the creeps.”

Hearing the squeak of the front door opening, Randi looked

over her shoulder to see Kim coming in. She stopped just inside

the door, looking around, her eyes lingering for a second on

Randi.

“Oh, great, look who’s here,” Minnie said dismissively.

“Is there anybody you do like, Min?” Randi asked

affectionately.

Minnie shrugged. Kim walked over to Darlene and Trina

and joined their table. Randi turned back to face the bar as Jeff

poured her another ginger ale and plunked some fresh ice cubes

into her glass.

“Let’s go out to the patio,” Randi suggested to Minnie.

“Okay.” Minnie unhooked her shoe from the railing. “Let me

get another beer first.”

Jeff had gone over to Kim to take her drink order. Trina went

226

to the jukebox and played El Debarge’s “Rhythm of the Night.”

She crooked a finger in Kim’s direction and Kim got up to dance

with her. Randi stood where she was, watching them, watching

Kim’s body move in tight jeans and a silky, gold-colored blouse

that sparkled under the lights of the dance floor. Randi watched

for about a minute, then pulled her gaze away and faced the bar.

She picked up her glass and knocked back a hard swallow. She

noticed Minnie staring at her.

“That’s ginger ale you’re drinking there,” Minnie said. “I

don’t think you’re going to get the effect that you’re trying for.”

Randi sighed, then turned back to watch Kim and Trina

dancing.

“I thought you wanted to go out to the patio,” Minnie said.

“Right. I guess so.”

“What’s wrong with you tonight?”

Randi didn’t answer. She couldn’t stop watching Kim now.

She looked like she was having a good time. One thing Randi was

grateful for tonight was that Blair wasn’t here. Even if she was

going to let Kim drift out of her life, she didn’t think she could

take it if those two got together.

Minnie stood on her tiptoes to get closer to Randi’s ear and

said, “Why do I get the feeling that somebody around here is in

love with that stuck-up, know-it-all bitch?”

Randi tried to smile. “I think I’ll go home,” she said.

“Randi, you can’t let her do this to you. I’ve never seen you

like this. Forget about her. She’s not worth it.”

“But she is,” Randi said solemnly. “That’s the problem. She’s

just so right for me.”

Minnie stared up at Randi, looking serious. “If that’s true,

then why don’t you go for it?”

“Because in a few weeks she’ll drive out of here and I’ll never

see her again.” She slapped Minnie lightly on the back. “Sorry

I’m no fun tonight. See you later.”

Randi made her way home, remembering, when she saw

Danya’s car parked at the curb, that it was for sale. Danya was in

her room with a pile of laundry on her bed, folding clothes.

227

“Hi,” Randi said in the doorway.

Danya turned and smiled. “Oh, hi. You’re home early.”

“Nothing much happening over there tonight. I ran into

Nicki, though.”

“Oh?” Danya turned a pair of socks inside out around each

other.

“She said she has a buyer for your car. I didn’t know you were

selling it.”

Danya turned to face Randi. “Yeah, I need the cash.”

“How are you going to get around?”

“Bus. I’m going to go visit my mother after all.”

“Oh, that’s great. I’m glad.” Randi felt a huge sense of relief,

knowing that Danya had a place to go. But then the look on

Danya’s face made Randi wonder if she was telling the truth. It

was always hard to know with Danya.

“I’ll be leaving Monday morning.”

Randi nodded. “Okay. I’ll give you a lift to the bus station.”

“No, that’s okay. I have a ride. Nicki’s taking me. Thanks for

everything, though, Randi. You’ve been a lifesaver.”

Randi felt uncomfortable and a little guilty. “Hey, you want

some ice cream? I picked up a pint of strawberry this afternoon.

I know it’s your favorite.”

“Okay, sure. Let me put these away and I’ll be right out.”

Randi returned to the living room where she noticed a

flashing blue light circling the ceiling. She looked out the front

window to see a patrol car on the street. It was parked behind

Danya’s Jetta. The cops were sitting in their car. Randi wondered

if they were running the plates.

“Hey, Danya!” she called. “You got expired tags or

something?”

Danya came out of the back and looked outside. “Shit!” she

said under her breath, then stumbled backward away from the

window, a look of terror on her face. Regaining her balance, she

turned and ran into the bedroom. Randi went after her, finding

her stuffing clothes into her backpack.

“What are you doing?” Randi asked.

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“I’ve got to get out of here,” Danya said, grabbing her wallet

from the nightstand. She shoved that into her back pocket.

“Stall them if you can. I’ll go out the back door. Thanks for

everything.”

Danya kissed Randi on the cheek and then squeezed past her

through the doorway. Randi ran after her, catching her in the

kitchen, where she grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her

around so they were facing one another. The backpack fell to the

floor.“Danya,” she demanded, “what have you done?”

“Let me go! I’ve got to get out of here.”

Randi held her tighter, insistent now. “What have you

done?”

Danya twisted in vain against Randi’s tightening hold.

“Dammit, Rocky, you stupid fuck! If you don’t let go of me,

I’m going to bust your nose again.”

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me.” Randi clutched

Danya fast in both her arms, locking them together around her

waist. Danya quit struggling when she realized there was no

escape.

“I hit a guy,” Danya said, breathing hard. “An old guy in a

crosswalk. I hit him. I ran a red light. He went down.”

Randi, stunned, loosened her hold.

“You hit a guy?” she asked, her voice subdued. “Was he

killed?”

“I don’t know. I took off. There were people there. He had

help. They could call. I mean, I didn’t leave him there with no

help. I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything after that. I

woke up the next day...there was blood on my car...the dent.”

“When did this happen?”

“The day before I came here. In Phoenix. I didn’t know what

to do, where to go.”

Randi suddenly understood. “You were drunk?”

Danya, standing now with her head down, nodded. Randi felt

her knees buckle. She fell into a kitchen chair as lights swirled

around the room, flashing red, blue and white, casting Danya’s

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face alternately into dimness and starkness. She looked more

desperate than Randi had ever seen her.

“Don’t tell them about Nicki,” she whispered, picking her

backpack off the floor. “She’s going to help me get to Mexico. A

little sooner than we thought. Randi, don’t look at me like that! I

already have a DUI. I can’t—”

There was a loud knock at the front door. Randi thought she

could feel the vibration of it going through her torso as Breeze

began to bark in the front room. She sat frozen in her chair, her

mind suddenly empty, her body detached and unresponsive.

“Love you,” Danya said, leaping toward the back door. She

flung it open and ran through the doorway just as one of those

blue lights passed by, bathing the door and Danya in a cool glow

against the black of the night beyond.

As Randi watched, Danya stepped onto the back porch,

seeming to move in slow motion, the strap of her backpack

catching on the doorknob. She turned, a look of determination

on her face, and yanked at the strap so hard that she reeled back

on one foot when it came loose. She turned again, poised to

run.Randi heard a forceful male voice. “Stop! Police!”

Danya’s figure, framed by a blue then a white light, quavered

on the step for an indecisive second before she dropped her pack

to the ground. Her hands rose slowly above her head.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“Did Randi go out to the courtyard?” Kim asked Minnie

when she’d finished her dance with Trina.

Minnie scowled up at her with an unfriendly expression that

left Kim perplexed.

“No, she went home.”

“Oh.” Kim was disappointed that Randi had left without

speaking to her. Not even a hello.

“She wasn’t feeling well,” Minnie added, her tone suggesting

it was Kim’s fault.

Was she still angry over that Valentine’s Day blunder? Kim

decided to ignore her. She had had enough of these confusing

Yuma women. They were all wackos, the whole lot of them.

Something in the water, most likely.

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But while she waited at the bar for Jeff to bring her a cola,

Minnie turned purposefully toward her and said, “Do you have

any feelings for her at all?”

Taken by surprise, Kim was about to tell Minnie to mind

her own business, but the solemn look on her face caused her to

reconsider. “Yes,” she said, simply.

Minnie looked up at her for a moment, as if she were struggling

with a thought, then said, “Then you should be together.”

“But she—”

Minnie waved her hand between them. “Nope. That’s all I’m

going to say. You should be together.”

With that, Minnie turned and walked away. Jeff placed a

glass on the bar. Kim pulled the cap of paper from the straw and

sucked on it absentmindedly, trying to make sense of Minnie’s

sudden altruism. Apparently Randi had said something to her.

Kim had been rejected so many times by Randi already that she

was reluctant to take heart from this exchange. But as she sat on

a bar stool finishing her drink, the idea that Randi wanted her

grew more and more insistent.

She paid for her soda and left the bar, then drove to Randi’s

house, not really knowing what she would do when she got

there.

Despite all of the scenarios going through her mind, she

was unprepared for the two police cars parked on the street in

front, lights flashing. Kim slowed and rolled over to the curb

of a neighbor’s house. Between the flashing lights from the

cruisers and the motion light on Randi’s garage, the scene was

as brilliant as daytime. Kim saw a uniformed policeman walking

across Randi’s front yard beside Danya, whose hands were cuffed

behind her. Danya was stowed into the backseat of one of the

police cars.

What the hell? Was this some kind of domestic violence

situation? Had Danya hurt Randi? Kim started to panic. Could

Danya have killed Randi? She shoved the door of her truck open

and half fell, half jumped out of it. Running toward Randi’s yard,

she spotted Randi on her front porch talking to a female police

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officer. Relieved, Kim slowed to a walk as the officer turned and

went back to the street. Randi stood in the doorway as the two

cars pulled away, leaving behind a scattered group of onlookers

in front of the houses on both sides of the street. These began to

disperse as Kim approached the front door.

Randi looked at her, then turned and went inside, leaving

the door open behind her. Assuming this was an invitation, Kim

followed her in, shutting the door quietly. Randi slumped onto

the sofa in the front room, put her face in her hands and started

sobbing. Kim was shocked. The Lone Ranger doesn’t cry!

Recovering from her surprise, she sat beside Randi, then

tentatively took her in her arms. Though alarmed, Kim waited,

keeping her confusion in check, while Randi sobbed with the

grief of a woman suffering a deep loss. She held Randi gently

with one hand on the back of her head, slowly stroking her hair.

Breeze had come silently into the room and dropped down on a

throw rug nearby, his snout resting on one paw, looking in their

direction with what seemed to Kim a sympathetic expression.

After several minutes, Randi finally grew still and quiet, and

at last she lifted her head and sat facing Kim, her eyes red and

tragic.

“My God, you’re a patient woman,” Randi said, wiping the

tears from her cheeks and attempting a small smile.

Kim smiled too, encouraged by the fact that Randi still had a

sense of humor. “So, are you ready to tell me what happened?”

Randi took a deep breath and explained that Danya had been

arrested for a hit-and-run incident in Phoenix in which she had

struck a pedestrian, an elderly man who was still hospitalized

with serious injuries. That was why she’d come to Yuma. She was

hiding out.

“Why did she run in the first place?” Kim asked.

“Because she’d been drinking. And she blacked out. She

didn’t know he survived, even. I just now found out those details

from the police.”

“I see. That’s bad.”

“Someone got her license plate. They’ve been looking for

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her ever since.” Randi seemed to be talking to herself when she

said, “That’s why she couldn’t go to her mother’s. They would

be expecting that. She was planning to run to Mexico.” Randi

sniffled, then blew her nose with a Kleenex.

“I’m very sorry,” Kim said. “I guess she means a lot to you.”

Randi shook her head. “No, that isn’t it. I mean, sure, I’m

sorry she’s gotten herself in trouble. And I’m sorry someone got

hurt. It’s terrible. But, you know, we haven’t really been friends

for years. Too many bad scenes. Danya’s always been a screw-up.

We were both screw-ups together, in those days. I wasn’t happy

when she turned up here.”

“But you seem to be really torn up about this.”

“Oh, yeah, well, it’s more selfish than that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m thinking of myself. I’m thinking that it could have been

me being taken off to jail like that. It could have been me who ran

over some innocent person on the road because I was a total loser

wallowing in self-pity.” Tears appeared in Randi’s eyes again.

“Why are you saying that?”

Randi swallowed hard. “Because I’m like her. You don’t know

me, Kim. You don’t know what a mess I made of my life back

there. God, if you’d met me then, you wouldn’t have wasted a

hello on me. You don’t know how much like her I am.”

“Was,” corrected Kim. “If even then.”

“Maybe so, but it doesn’t feel like there’s much separating us.

Like she said the other day, I’m just one six-pack away from—”

Randi’s voice faltered.

Kim touched her cheek, pushing away a tear with her thumb.

“Randi,” she said gently, “do you feel like having a drink now?”

Randi looked puzzled. “No.”

“Then it isn’t true. It’s been a pretty crappy day and you

weren’t even thinking about it. I would say you’re not anything

like Danya. I think you’re a very strong woman. You turned your

life around. You’ve made it. About the only thing I can see in you

that’s lacking is belief in yourself.”

Randi looked grateful and blew her nose again. She took a

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couple of deep breaths, composing herself. “Sorry I lost it.”

“It’s okay.”

“Bet I look like shit.”

“I’ve seen you a little more together than this.”

But it’s kind of nice, Kim thought, to see the steely exterior

discarded for a change. She now realized why Randi had been

protecting herself so carefully, why it might even be true that she

was afraid of being hurt. A vulnerable woman sat beside her.

“Let me get you a glass of water,” Kim offered.

When Kim returned to the sofa, Randi had wiped her face

dry. “I suppose I’ll go down tomorrow and see how bad it is.

What the charges are. What the bail is. And let her mother know

she’s here.”

Kim nodded. “You’re a good friend.”

Randi shrugged, took a long drink of water, then set the glass

on the table. Turning back to Kim, she said, “What are you doing

here anyway?”

“Oh, right. Just passing by?” Kim laughed. “No, I . . . I thought

you might want to see me.”

“Really?”

“A mutual friend suggested that we might be missing an

opportunity.”

“A mutual friend?” Randi raised an eyebrow. “Short of

stature? Sort of surly?”

Kim laughed. “You make her sound like the Travelocity

gnome.”

They sat looking into one another’s eyes for a moment,

Randi’s expression serene.

“Come here,” she said, finally, reaching one hand out to slide

around Kim’s neck.

Kim moved closer. “Aren’t you afraid of getting hurt?”

“Yes. But I think it will be worth it.”

Randi leaned in to touch her lips to Kim’s, softly, lingering

with a delicious uncertainty on her lower lip before committing

herself to a deeper exploration. Kim closed her eyes as Randi’s

arms tightened around her, pulling her further into the kiss. She

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knew Randi wouldn’t change her mind this time. She gave herself

up to desire as their kisses grew more passionate and their bodies

melted into one another, like to like.

Randi’s hands moved over her blouse, stroking her through

the cloth, wakening her senses.

As their mouths continued to take possession of one another,

Kim felt Randi’s hands on her skin as her bra went slack, caressing,

teasing, pressing down on her, pressing her into the cushions,

lying on top of her.

She threw her head back against the arm of the sofa as Randi

released her mouth and moved her lips across her neck, grazing

her skin, thrilling her nerves. Kim’s arms strained to bring them

closer yet.

As Randi’s hand slid over the rough denim of her jeans,

sensation shot through her, tingling down her thighs and up

through her torso, taking her over, focusing her entire mind and

body on that one spot. Touch me again! she thought, her breath

suspended, her body poised and anxious. Responding to her

unspoken request, Randi touched her again, and continued to

touch her, through her clothes and then even more intensely

against her bare skin.

As the night deepened, they lost themselves in relentless kisses

and tangled limbs. Kim realized how much she had missed this,

the soft touch of another woman’s skin, the surging of desire in

her core, the heady smell and taste of a woman’s body. The hours

slid by as they allowed themselves the unrestrained pleasures of

physical passion, unaware or unwilling to acknowledge that the

spontaneous longings of the heart and mind were rapidly keeping

pace.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The grin on Randi’s face as she buttoned the shirt of her

uniform said it all. Kim reluctantly rolled out of bed and covered

herself in Randi’s bathrobe.

“I’m running late,” Randi said. “No time to make breakfast,

but there is coffee. Sorry we couldn’t hang around here longer.”

Kim ran her fingers through her hair, trying to encourage

it to stay out of her face. Then she stood gazing at Randi, at the

uniform hiding that lovely body, remembering what she looked

like without it. No one would ever guess how curvy she was. She

had emerged from her clothes like a brilliant butterfly out of a

tan chrysalis.

Randi buckled her belt and came over to Kim, pulling her

close with a cherishing hug. Kim heard her sigh and felt the

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urgency of her embrace.

“See you tonight?” Randi asked.

Kim nodded. “Try to keep me away.”

Randi smiled widely, then sat on the edge of the bed to pull

on her boots. After Kim poured herself a cup of coffee, she kissed

Randi goodbye at the front door. Randi opened the door to reveal

Minnie standing on the front porch with her hand balled up in a

fist, ready to knock.

The three of them, all startled, stood motionless for a moment

before Minnie said with exaggerated sarcasm, “Just look at this.

What a pretty little scene of domestic bliss.”

“Now, look, Min, if you came over here to spy on us—”

Minnie waved a hand. “No, that’s not why I’m here. You guys

are old news, as far as I’m concerned. I came to find out if the

other story was true.”

“Other story?” Randi asked.

“The big story about how your houseguest got arrested last

night, you dope.”

“Oh! That story.”

“Yeah, I realize you have something else on your mind this

morning.” Even Kim could see that Minnie’s snarl was designed

to hide a smile. “You guys make me wanna puke.”

“Yes,” Randi said, solemnly, “the story is true. I’m going over

to the jail later. Look, I have to get to work. Tilley can fill you

in.” Randi slipped past Minnie, giving her a pat on the head.

“I’m not jealous!” Minnie called after her as she ran for her

pickup.

“Glad to hear it!” Randi called.

“How about a cup of coffee?” Kim offered.

When the two of them had settled in the sunroom with

steamy mugs, Kim asked, “You’re really not jealous?”

“Really,” Minnie confirmed. “Oh, I was serious in the

beginning about her, but after a while, once I realized it wasn’t

going to happen, I got over it. The last year, it’s just been a

flirtation thing, you know. Sort of a game. My way of making her

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feel loved. My heart hasn’t been in it for a while, though.”

The desert landscape sloped away through the expansive

sunroom windows, cacti casting long morning shadows. A crow

sat in a palo verde tree, cawing loudly.

“So tell me what happened,” Minnie said.

Kim told the story in broad strokes, realizing that everybody

probably already knew about Danya’s arrest and would soon

know about Kim and Randi’s night of passion. No, there was no

privacy in this town, but, in a way, that was kind of nice because

it meant that there was a close-knit community of people who

cared about you, mostly in a positive way.

“I knew that woman was here to cause trouble,” Minnie said.

“I can’t even imagine how Randi ever got involved with her in

the first place.”

“She was a different woman in those days, I guess. Maybe

both of them were. Young.”

“Young, yes. Young explains a lot of things.” Minnie laughed.

Kim started to think she could like Minnie, that they could

be friends. She was sort of churlish, but good-hearted and loyal.

She was the kind of friend you’d want to hang on to and she could

see why Randi was so fond of her. I’d like to be a part of this, Kim

thought, this community of women. There was nothing like this

back home. There were friends, old college chums, colleagues,

people she rarely saw. They weren’t really a part of her day-to-

day life. Why is that? she wondered. What’s so different here that

lives are so much more connected?

“So I guess I’m responsible for this,” Minnie said, vaguely

waving toward Kim.

“You mean me being here?”

Minnie nodded.

“I suppose you can take the credit, although I suspect we

would have managed it on our own at some point.”

“Oh, sure! Left up to your own selves, the two of you would

have been playing hide-and-seek right up until you went back to

California.” Minnie laughed good-naturedly. “God, some women

are just so hard to get into bed!”

239

They sat quietly for a few minutes, drinking coffee, enjoying

the morning, until Kim’s cell phone rang. She grabbed it from

the side table. It was Ramon.

“Where are you?” he asked. “It’s nine thirty.”

“Oh, shit!” Kim said. “I’m sorry, Ramon. I forgot. I had kind

of a rough night.”

Kim saw Minnie roll her eyes.

“What do you want to do?” Ramon asked.

“Why don’t we take the day off and have a long weekend?”

Kim said.

As she hung up, Minnie stood. “I think I’ll be going. I have

to be to work too and I know you need some time to yourself to

recover from your rough night.”

At the front door, Kim said a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

Minnie shrugged with mock indifference before stepping out

into the heat.

Left alone, Kim stood inside the house for a moment with

her eyes closed, images of Randi’s body drifting in and out. She

roused herself from this daydream, cautioning herself to keep it

all in perspective. A temporary diversion, she reminded herself.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Friday night merged into Saturday morning and Saturday

night as Kim and Randi continued to get to know one another.

Kim felt herself sliding into the most affectionate of gestures and

thoughts with alarming ease. This romance was only a couple of

days old, but already she had developed an automated response

to Randi’s touch. Randi’s body felt familiar and comfortable, all

of her curves fitting so nicely into Kim’s hollows.

By Sunday morning, as they lay in bed after making love,

the words that came to her mind were frightening. It had been a

long time since she had felt or spoken those words, and she knew

better than to speak them now. She was a scientist, after all, and

the facts all pointed in a different direction.

“They think Danya’s a flight risk,” Randi said, nuzzling her

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face against Kim’s shoulder.

“Not surprisingly.”

“Her mother’s coming tomorrow.”

“Then you’ll be out of it, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Her mother’s a practical woman. She can take care of

things. She’s hired a lawyer. She’s so disappointed in Danya, but,

ultimately, she’ll do whatever she can to protect her. So, yes, I’m

out of it.”

Kim wove her fingers through Randi’s. “Do you think this will

be the thing that does it for her, that gets her sober for good?”

“I don’t know. If she goes to prison, she won’t have a choice,

of course. I’m guessing she’s going to have to serve some time.

It’s surprising what it takes sometimes, to make a person finally

stop drinking.”

“Was there something like that for you?”

“Nothing so dramatic, no. Thank God!” Randi kissed Kim

lightly on the lips. “What do you want to do today?”

“I need to spend a few hours back at my place. Do some

chores.”

“How about meeting me for lunch later?”

“Dolly’s?”

With that plan in place, Kim went to her trailer and sat down

at the computer to catch up on answering e-mail while a load of

laundry washed itself at the clubhouse. She sent a photo of Randi

to her brother Jack and was surprised to see him IM-ing her

almost immediately with the question, “Who is she?”

“Her name’s Randi,” she typed back.

“Cute,” came the response. “Is it something?”

“Yes.”

“” was his reply.

“She’s adorable,” Kim typed.

“Are you bringing her back with you,” asked Jack.

“No.”

“”

“I know!”

Those emoticons pretty much sum it all up, Kim thought.

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By the time she met Randi for lunch, she had a few clean

clothes and no important business left undone. Since it was

Sunday, Ramon was waiting tables at Dolly’s. He brought them

their lemonades, then looked suspiciously from one to the other

of them. He said nothing, however. After he left, Randi giggled

and said, “I think it shows.”

“It’s that goofy grin on your face.”

“It’s been quite a weekend,” Randi said, grinning even more

goofily.

Kim was absentmindedly coloring in the Wild West scene on

her paper placemat with an ink pen.

“Do you want me to get you some crayons for that?” Randi

asked, impishly.

“No, thank you. I’m just doodling.”

When their cheeseburgers arrived, they both quit talking for

a few minutes, focusing on the food. Kim held her burger in her

left hand and continued doodling in the margin of her placemat

with her right, drawing geometric designs.

“He must have been lying,” Randi said.

“Huh?” asked Kim. “Who are you talking about?”

“Flynn. He said the gold was just where it was supposed to

be, under a palm tree. Since there aren’t any palm trees, he had

to be lying.”

Now that the Danya incident was over, Randi’s mind was back

on Flynn. Kim wasn’t listening very closely, which didn’t matter,

because she was mostly just thinking out loud. The thing that

Kim was obsessed with was different. It had to do with Randi and

the countdown in her head to the day they would say goodbye.

“I might let Ramon go in a few days,” Kim said. “I won’t need

him anymore. The survey is pretty much complete.”

Randi looked at her and then dropped her gaze to her plate.

Kim hated to bring her down, but there was no point trying to

avoid reality.

“I’ll stay a while longer myself. There’s quite a bit of writing

and research I can do, most of which could be done back home.

Doesn’t require being on site. But I don’t have to leave just yet. I

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mean, I don’t want to leave just yet.”

Randi looked up again. “I’m glad to hear it.” She reached

over and took hold of Kim’s hand. “I’m going to miss you when

you do go, really badly.”

“Me too. It’s going to be a bittersweet memory for a long

time, I think.”

Kim saw that Randi’s eyes were welling up. Tough girl with a

soft heart. “Hey,” she said, “I haven’t gone yet!”

Randi smiled half-heartedly. “Right. Let’s have as much fun

as we can while you’re here.”

“Absolutely.”

Randi released Kim’s hand and narrowed her eyes at the

doodles. “What is that you’re drawing?”

“Oh, just some of the glyphs from the site. They run through

my brain, you know, because I’ve spent so much time looking at

them and thinking about them.”

“So what is that?” Randi pointed to one of the sketches. “An

umbrella?”

Kim laughed. “Not very likely, now, is it? I don’t think the

Hohokam had umbrellas. These two are together on one of the

panels. The other symbol, this circle with the spokes, is sometimes

interpreted as the sun. The umbrella, which is about three inches

below it, is a little less obvious. It’s what we unimaginatively call

a forked line. Since it has these four downward-trending lines

around the center, upright line...”

“Is it a palm tree?” Randi asked.

“No.” Kim shook her head. “Trees are drawn completely

differently. This could represent the four corners of the earth.

The upright line would be the axis on which the earth rotates.

It’s odd, though, that they would think of the earth in rotation if

they also saw it as flat, but...”

Kim looked up from her placemat and saw Randi staring at

her, eyes wide, as if something momentous had just happened. “A

palm tree?”

“It might look like a palm tree,” Randi said, “to an untrained

eye. The upright line is like a trunk and the four downward lines

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are like the palm fronds.”

They sat motionless, staring at one another. Then Kim turned

to her doodles again with a different eye. Looking at these two

glyphs that she had seen so often on the basalt, she saw, for the

first time, the image of a sun over a palm tree.

“Where is this?” Randi asked, her voice quavering.

“Site A, Hendy Wash. The old, original Hendy Wash.”

“My God!” Randi said. “Could Flynn have seen this?”

“He did come out to the site a couple of times. It’s right there

toward the front, visible enough, but not very obvious, really,

unless you’ve got your nose in it like we’ve had. I mean, there

are dozens of other images all around it. It doesn’t stick out like a

signpost.” Kim hesitated, thinking back over Flynn’s visits, trying

to remember if they had ever talked about these two symbols.

“Wait a minute. You know that photo that Flynn hung up in his

shack? The one Ramon took of him?”

“Yes, it’s in my truck. I’ve been carrying it around ever since

the day he disappeared.”

“Let’s go take a look at it,” Kim suggested.

They went to the parking lot and Randi took the photo out

from behind the seat. In the background, behind Flynn, the sun

and “palm tree” glyphs were distinctly visible, located just to the

left of his leg.

Randi and Kim looked at one another with a silent mutual

understanding. “Let’s stop by my house and get a shovel,” Randi

said.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Kim sat in the middle next to Randi, giving Breeze the

window seat. It was too hot to have the window open, so he sat

with his nose pressed against the glass. After they’d turned off the

highway, Randi said, “There’s somebody behind us.”

“Following us?” Kim asked.

“I don’t know.”

After several miles, Randi turned down their usual side road.

The vehicle behind kept going straight. Randi sighed and said,

“I’m just paranoid, I guess.”

They continued to the petroglyph site and didn’t see anyone

else. The wildflowers were gone now. The burst of energy and

color that the desert put forth with such enthusiasm was short-

lived. It was also getting oppressively hot some afternoons.

246

Unfortunately, they had arrived at the site at the hottest part of

this afternoon, but neither of them would have considered waiting

even a couple of hours to find out if this hunch was correct.

Randi carried the shovel, Kim the water bottles and Breeze

ran ahead. Kim showed Randi where the spot was, a petroglyph

of the sun over a shape that someone might interpret as a palm

tree, about six inches above the ground. Randi sank the shovel

into the ground underneath, and it went in easily.

“This ground has been turned recently.”

Kim assumed that Randi was thinking the same thing she

was, that the mystery was about to be over, that Flynn had dug

up this spot and found the gold and, if he had been telling her the

truth, it was still here. Kim’s heart was pounding furiously as she

watched Randi remove the gravel and dirt shovelful by shovelful,

digging down about a foot and a half before she hit metal.

At that sound, Randi stopped abruptly and looked up at Kim

with disbelief.Then she tossed the shovel aside and knelt at the

hole, moving the dirt with her gloved hands until she could grasp

the edge of an old iron lid, the top of a small Dutch oven. She

worked her fingers around the edges of the pot until she was able

to lift it out of the hole. Kim knelt beside her as she pulled off

the rusty lid. Inside were three buckskin bags, each tied with a

leather strap. Randi removed her gloves. Kim saw that her hands

were shaking as she untied the strap from one of the bags. Kim

moved aside to let the rays of the sun illuminate the contents.

The gold dust in the bag sparkled as the light hit it.

“Holy shit!” Randi said, then let out a high-pitched whistle

between her teeth.

She retied the bag and opened up the other two in turn. One

of them contained nuggets of varying sizes. The other contained

dust and flakes. She returned them to the pot, then stood. They

were both speechless. So it was all true. The treasure had been

here all along.

Just as Randi got to her feet, they heard the sound of

crunching gravel and both of them turned toward the noise as a

man holding a large handgun emerged from behind the outcrop.

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He was aiming the barrel of his gun right at them. He wore a

cowboy hat low over his forehead and a bandana over his nose

and mouth like an old-time bank robber. All they could see were

his eyes, but Kim recognized him almost immediately as the

Native American art dealer, Lucas Thornton. It was that one lazy

eye that gave him away.

“I knew you girls would lead me right to it,” he said, stepping

toward them. “Don’t do anything stupid. All I want is the gold.”

He stopped walking when he had come within twenty feet.

“Move over there,” he said, motioning toward his left.

Randi and Kim slowly moved away from the pot at their feet.

Thornton stepped toward the gold, keeping his eyes and his gun

trained on them. “Is this it, then?” he asked. “This is really the

Wolff gold? That old fool was telling the truth after all.”

“Looks like it,” Randi said. “And you must be the guy who

tore up Flynn’s shack.”

Thornton looked up from the pot at his feet. “Yeah, that

would be me. I thought he took it home with him. But he was

smarter than that, leaving it buried.”

“Where is he?” Randi asked.

“No idea. Last time I saw him, at his place, he threw a log

at me and knocked me down. By the time I got up, he was gone.

Been watching his place ever since. No sign he ever came back.

Been watching you too. Figured he told you all about it that day

in town. Hell, he was telling everybody who would listen. And

you did seem awfully anxious to get him off to yourself.”

Thornton knelt down to the pot and held one of the bags in

his hand briefly, feeling its weight before dropping it back in. He

stood again.

“So who are you?” Randi asked.

He laughed. “You think I’m going to tell you that?”

Kim wished she could tell Randi that she knew who he was,

but that was dangerous. In the movies, if the bad guy thought you

could ID him, he’d have to kill you. Let him go, Kim thought,

trying to communicate telepathically with Randi. Don’t do

anything heroic.

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“I’m going to take your vehicle so you can’t follow me.”

“You didn’t walk out here,” Randi observed.

“No, I didn’t. I’ll drive your truck to mine. It’s parked about

two miles east. I’ll leave your truck there with the keys in it.

Gonna have to bust your radio, of course. By the time you reach

it and get back to town, I’ll be long gone. Nobody gets hurt, so

long as you cooperate. Give me your keys and your phones.”

Randi reached into her front pocket and lifted her keys out

slowly, letting them dangle in front of her.

“Okay,” Thornton said. “Just toss them gently here at my

feet.”Kim was just as surprised as Thornton was when Randi threw

the keys hard and screamed like a lunatic, a high-pitched, crazy-

ass scream. Thornton jumped back against the wall of rock as the

keys whizzed past his head.

“What the hell!” he said as the keys hit the ground. “You

crazy?”

He had taken one careful step toward the keys just as Breeze

came charging up from the wash behind him. Randi pointed

at Thornton and yelled a command. Then, as Kim saw Breeze

lunge at Thornton, Randi leapt at Kim and pushed her to the

ground, landing on top of her. The gun went off twice. Oh, God!

Kim thought, desperately, why the hell do you have to be a hero?

She couldn’t move with Randi on top of her and she couldn’t see

anything because her face was smashed in the dirt. She could

hear Breeze growling ferociously and Thornton hollering, so she

knew that the two of them were still alive. Randi, she thought, if

you’re dead, I’m going to kill you.

But in that second Randi rolled off. When Kim turned over,

she saw Randi picking up the gun from the dirt while Breeze

tore into Thornton’s arm. He was screaming in terror and

pain, desperately swatting at Breeze with his other arm. The

handkerchief had slipped off his face in the struggle.

Randi aimed the gun at him and called out a “Heel!” to

Breeze, who immediately let go of Thornton and came to her side.

Thornton lay on the ground, his arm bleeding, long scratches

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across one side of his face. Randi turned to look at Kim, who was

getting to her feet, then she looked back at her prisoner.

“If you move,” Randi said, “I send my dog back at you.”

He sat where he was, sullenly cradling his bleeding arm.

“Are you okay?” she asked Kim.

“Yes, I think so,” Kim said, spitting dirt.

“Call nine-one-one.”

They waited for forty minutes, sitting in silence, until the

sheriff arrived, driving off-road right up to the petroglyph

site, which made both Kim and Randi cringe. Thornton was

handcuffed and put in the vehicle. Once they could relax, Randi

opened up one of the leather bags again and she and Kim peered

at the gold nuggets.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Randi said.

“Very beautiful stuff,” Kim agreed. She took a couple of

photos of Randi holding the bag of gold.

“I’ll take that,” the sheriff said, taking the bag from her. He

put it back in the pot and had a deputy carry the pot to the truck.

“You two come into the office and fill out a report.”

Randi sat on a boulder while the sheriff and deputies drove

off in a thick cloud of dust.

“Easy come, easy go,” Randi said as silence prevailed once

more. Then she stared at Kim and laughed. “You should see your

face.”

“And whose fault is that?” Kim asked, wiping at her nose with

her hand.

“Here, let me clean that off.”

Randi stood and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. Just

as she began wiping the dirt off of Kim’s cheeks and chin, Breeze

suddenly started barking in the direction of the wash. As Kim

turned to look, she saw Flynn climbing up over the edge of it and

walking toward them. He too was covered with dirt. A licorice

rope hung from the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, you girls are making such a ruckus over here this

afternoon!” he called, sounding disgruntled.

“Flynn!” Randi hollered, running over to him. She stopped

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short of a hug. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Hiding. Been holed up in an old mine just over yonder.” He

pointed vaguely toward the west.

“What mine?” Randi asked.

“Not even you know about this one, Randi Girl. My secret

bunker. Keep a few things there, just in case. Like a squirrel,

burying nuts here and there. Came in handy this time, that’s for

sure. I was waiting for things to cool off. That jackass would have

killed me.”

“You’re damned right he would have killed you,” Randi said,

her voice cracking with emotion. “You stupid old fool. I thought

you were dead.”

Flynn smiled affectionately at her, then stepped over to the

hole where the gold had been buried.

“You girls figured it out too, eh? Pretty good puzzle, wasn’t it?”

“You should have told me where it was,” Randi complained.

“We all could have been killed.”

“Glad you weren’t, though,” he said, grinning.

Randi gave him a crooked smile. “You don’t seem too upset

about losing your fortune.”

Flynn shrugged. “What was I going to do with all that money

anyway? Just you make sure they get it right in the paper. It was

Flynn who found it, fair and square.”

“Yes, it was!”

“Guess I’ll go home now the coast is clear. Got some cleaning

up to do. See you tomorrow, same as usual, eh?”

He winked at Randi, then started walking east with his

familiar limp.

“Wait,” Randi said. “We can give you a ride. You ride in the

back, though. You’re too dirty for the cab.”

“Me?” He pointed at Kim. “Look at that one.”

Randi laughed and handed the handkerchief to Kim. The

three of them and Breeze headed for the road, casting long

shadows as the sky dimmed toward night.

“Was it you who took that roll of toilet paper?” Kim asked

Flynn.

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“Uh-huh. Snuck out in the middle of the night for that. A

man can live without a lot of things, but that ain’t one of ’em.”

The three of them laughed. Randi slapped Flynn on the back,

sending a cloud of dust into the air.

252

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Perched on the edge of a ravine as the sun became a red ball

on the horizon, they finished the dessert they had taken from the

restaurant after their farewell dinner. The walls of Rainbow Wash

deepened to a brilliant shade of red as they watched. Beyond, on

the flat desert floor, the teddybear cholla glowed with silver auras

as the slanted light lit their needles.

“It’s gorgeous,” Kim said.

“This is one of my favorite places,” Randi told her, taking her

hand. “I come here a lot.”

Kim put the last bite of cheesecake into her mouth. “Ummm.

This is the best white chocolate raspberry cheesecake I’ve ever

had.”Randi leaned over and kissed her briefly, tasting the sugar on

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her lips. “Yes, it’s delicious.”

They sat close, leaning against one another.

“What’s that over there?” Kim pointed to a line of greenery

in the distance.

“Colorado River. That’s California on the other side.” Randi

wondered if the mention of California reminded Kim about her

impending departure. The knowledge that this was their last

night together was a thought Randi couldn’t get out of her mind

for a minute.

As if she could read Randi’s mind, Kim said, “We can get

together now and then. You can come to Sacramento. I’ll come

visit you here for Christmas break. It’s only an eleven-hour drive.

If you took off heading north and I took off heading south, in

only five and a half hours we’d be together. Where would that be

anyway, the midpoint?”

“Bakersfield, maybe, or Lancaster.”

Kim laughed. “Bakersfield! Not many people would think of

that as a romantic getaway spot.”

Randi had to laugh too. It was a funny idea.

“Or we can meet somewhere easy for us both to get to, like

San Diego or Phoenix,” Kim said. “I’m in Phoenix quite a bit,

actually. It’ll be a lot more fun going there if I can meet you

there.”

“Yes, that sounds great. My parents still live there, so I go

back now and then too. We should set a date before you go so we

know it will actually happen.”

“Okay. Come see me in July when it’s unbearable here. Come

visit for two weeks. How’s that?”

Randi nodded. “I will.”

“Good. I’ll plan something fun for us to do.”

Kim kissed her, smiled reassuringly, then said, “I have

something for you.”

After searching through her bag, Kim produced a colorful

gift box. Randi took it, noticing that it was surprisingly heavy

for its size. She opened the box to reveal a stunning piece of

wolframite.

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“Oh, my God,” she said. “It’s the same one, isn’t it? The one

we saw at the festival.”

Kim nodded.

“You’re very sly. Oh, I love it!”

“Good. Give it a nice spot on your rock shelf.”

“I will,” Randi said. “Place of honor. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“I have something for you too,” Randi said, producing a small

plastic cube from her backpack. Embedded in the center of the

cube was a gold nugget. She handed it to Kim.

“A memento of our treasure hunting adventure,” Randi said.

“That’s the nugget Flynn gave me.”

“Wow, thanks,” Kim said, holding it in her palm. “But doesn’t

this belong to the feds like the rest of it?”

Randi shrugged. “I don’t know where that nugget came from.

For all I know, Flynn dug it out of his own mine. I tried to return

it to him, but he told me to keep it. I guess finding the gold was

really all he wanted after all. Sort of makes him notorious. He’s

got the newspaper article tacked up in his place like a trophy.”

“Yes, I know. I went out there yesterday to say goodbye to

him.”

“He’s sorry to see you go too, I know.”

It was dark now and the stars were popping out by the dozens

as a cool breeze came up.

“Shouldn’t we be going back?” Kim asked.

“Can’t follow this road in the dark,” Randi said. “We’re going

to have to stay here for the night and wait for the light.”

“What?” Kim asked, alarmed.

Randi stood and took Kim’s hand, helping her to her feet.

“Come here.”

She led Kim to the pickup and unhooked the cover of the

bed, lifting it off. In the bed of the truck Randi had arranged a

thick foam pad covered with a pair of sleeping bags and a couple

of pillows. Kim looked startled and unsure.

“It’ll be very comfortable,” Randi assured her.

“You’re serious? We’re really going to stay out here all night?”

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“Nobody will bother us. You’ll love it.”

They climbed into the back of the truck and settled into

the spongy bed. As Randi lay in Kim’s arms with the sky above

a nearly solid shimmer of stars, she felt serene and happy. In

just a couple of weeks, she had grown so used to having Kim

beside her. It didn’t feel forced or complicated. It felt right. The

image in Randi’s mind was of a slow-motion reverse-action film

where the hundreds of slivers of a shattered goblet all come back

together into a perfect whole. That’s how she felt when she was

with Kim—whole.

They embraced and kissed one another and slowly removed

their clothes. Kim’s body in the starlight was dazzling. They

made love in the light of a rising moon and then, as the chill of

the night overtook them, slipped inside the sleeping bags. The

moon was three-quarters and had now risen to about eleven on

the face of the sky’s clock.

“I’ve never seen so many stars,” Kim said. “Even with that

bright moon.”

“So, what do you think of this idea now?” Randi asked.

“You were right. I love it.”

Randi was trying to make their last night special. She was

actively committing memories to a permanent place in her mind.

The silky sensation against her cheek as she brushed her face

against Kim’s back, the twinkle of starlight in Kim’s eyes, the

howl of a distant coyote—these were the details she wanted to

remember.

“Are you sad?” Kim asked quietly.

“Sort of,” Randi admitted.

“I’m glad we decided to go for it, even though it will be hard

to say goodbye.”

Hard is an understatement, Randi thought, saying nothing.

Kim fell asleep curled around Randi’s back, the wind blowing

around them, coyotes howling, the moon sliding by in the

southern sky. At some point, Randi too fell asleep.

When she woke, the sky was beginning to pale, though the

sun had not yet appeared on the horizon. Kim was asleep, looking

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like a beautiful, innocent child, strands of hair pasted across her

cheek, her dark eyelashes resting at the top of her cheekbones,

her left hand lying on the pillow beside her head, palm upturned

and open. Randi lay with her face close to Kim’s open hand and

watched her breathing in the dim light. At the moment, the whole

world seemed to consist only of this lovely sleeping woman and

the velvety gray sky. Now that would be a world to live in, Randi

thought sadly. This could have been the real thing.

There was no doubt in her mind that everything that felt best

to her now would feel really bad later.

When Kim opened her eyes, Randi smiled and said, “Good

morning.”

Kim smiled too, and then stretched luxuriously, like a cat.

Randi reached for her and pulled her close in the sleeping

bag, threading their legs together, filling her arms with Kim’s

warmth. They lay together watching the sun peek over the

horizon, silently. Randi would have liked to have stayed like that

for hours or days, but her stomach was rumbling loudly.

Before the sun had freed itself from the edge of the earth,

they were making their way back to town to a hearty breakfast at

Dolly’s. Neither of them had much to say, though Randi was sure

that both of them had a lot to say. There just wasn’t any point in

saying it.

Ramon was working today. He took their orders, then said,

“Kim, I’ve got my application in to UA. I’m pretty sure I’ll

get in. Go Wildcats! Now I just have to pull out one of those

scholarships.”

“That’s great. The fieldwork here should help a lot.”

“And your letter of recommendation.”

“Ramon, I know you’ll make it.” Kim clasped his hand warmly.

“I want you to keep in touch and let me know how you’re doing.

Not just school. Life in general. Your family. Sophie.”

He nodded. “I will. I’m so glad I got to work with you. You’ve

changed my life.”

“Oh, you’re responsible for that. Don’t blame me.” Kim

laughed.

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When their breakfast arrived, Kim pushed the ketchup

bottle across the table to Randi, a gesture she did automatically

because she knew Randi would put ketchup on her eggs. That

unconsidered gesture nearly brought Randi to tears.

If that’s enough to make me cry, Randi thought, I am in

bad shape. She forced a smile and Kim smiled in return, an

affectionate, joyful expression.

“What a wonderful night that was,” Kim said. “I’ll never

forget it. Just absolutely beautiful in every way.”

Randi was glad that Kim had that memory to take home, that

she would be able to look back on her visit so fondly. She herself

was already hurting and it would only get worse. She desperately

wanted to make Kim stay, but didn’t know any way to do that. All

she had were fantasies. She wanted to tell Kim everything that

was in her heart, but if she did it would seem like manipulation

and it would spoil Kim’s perfect memories. They had both known

when they started this how it would end and they had both agreed

to the terms, so Randi kept her thoughts to herself.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The girl sitting in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair in Kim’s

university office was cute, blond and shapely. She had the smooth,

fresh face of youth and the inevitable arrogance that went with

it. She’d come to argue over her grade in Survey Techniques, in

person this time, thinking perhaps that it would be more effective

than the e-mail arguments they had already had.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t just change it to a C,” she

protested.

“Because you earned a D,” Kim said again. “And really, not on

the upper edge of that.”

“I offered to do extra credit. Remember that?”

“Yes. And as I told you then, ‘extra’ by definition denotes

something in addition. Since you didn’t do most of the assigned

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work, extra credit is meaningless. Besides, I don’t give extra credit.

It’s a ridiculous concept.”

The girl sighed in exasperation.

“I’m sorry, Brook, but I think we’re finished with this

discussion. I’m not changing your grade.”

The girl stood, glaring at Kim. “This is so bogus,” she said,

then walked out.

Kim leaned back in her office chair, glancing at the screen

of her computer where she’d been working on class schedules

for the fall semester. Spring semester was over and they were

still quibbling about grades from last fall. Nothing much had

changed here.

On the one bare wall of this small space, crowded with filing

cabinets and bookshelves, Kim had hung three new photos.

One was of Flynn grinning with his gap tooth in front of the

petroglyphs. One was of Kim with Connie Thompson showing

off her projectile point. The third was Randi holding a bag of

gold, looking triumphant and beautiful.

On the desk was the gold nugget encased in clear plastic,

which she found herself picking up and fingering often.

She and Randi kept in touch by e-mail mostly and by

phone some evenings. In this way, Kim had learned that Lucas

Thornton was in big trouble, for not only was he being charged

with his crimes against Flynn, Randi and Kim, but he was also

being investigated by the FBI for shady dealings related to his

art collection.

Kim had also learned that Blair and Minnie were now a

couple, apparently driven together through their mutual feelings

of rejection by Kim and Randi. And, as unlikely as it seemed,

Blair appeared to have changed her ways and become a devoted

partner. So something really positive had resulted from their

spring fling, something more than the heartache Kim felt every

day now. She knew that Randi felt it as well as they both struggled

to recover from the sweetest episode of their lives.

For a while after returning, Kim lived for nothing more than

the daily phone call or e-mail from Randi. Lying on her bed in

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the dark, the phone pressed against her ear, she had often said,

“I wish you were here right now.” And Randi might say, “I wish

you’d been here today to see the sunset.”

They were both pushing a bit to see if anyone was willing to

make a change. At least that was what Kim was doing. But she

knew it wasn’t going to happen. Randi loved the desert and she

had fashioned a fulfilling life there. She belonged there in a way

that Kim had never belonged anywhere. Kim didn’t really expect

or even want her to give that up.

The news items coming in from Yuma cheered Kim’s days.

There were people there she knew, people she felt a kinship

with. When Randi wrote her about driving out in the desert and

visiting with the desert people, Kim could imagine being there,

and wished she was there. She had lived a lot of life in those few

months. Not unlike those spring wildflower blooms that burst

forth in such lavish exuberance for just a brief moment—brief,

but brilliant. In the desert, mediocrity didn’t play much of a part.

The odds were against you, whether you were a flower, an animal

or a person. It took something special to survive there, some

remarkable skill. You didn’t get a free ride.

One thing that had begun to seem absurd to her was why she

and Randi had agreed to meet again in July. Why so long? Why

not May? Or June? If it had been June, they could be together

right now, making love on a Sonoma Coast beach. When you’re

living in April, looking directly into her eyes, maybe July seemed

like just around the corner, but when you were living apart, it

was another story entirely. She clung desperately to the promise

of that visit.

Another thing she missed about Yuma was how you could

walk into the grocery store, a restaurant, the post office, and

there was someone you knew. In fact, all you really had to do

was drive through town to see someone you knew. The same

people seemed to go to the same places, like Dolly’s and Pinkie’s.

You knew you could go there and find someone to talk to. She

didn’t have a place like that, not one, in Sacramento. She wasn’t a

part of any community. The closest thing she had was the faculty

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at Davis, which was something valuable, but very different.

For one thing, it was homogenous, composed of well-educated

professionals whose politics were all similar. She didn’t interact

much with people who were different from her. The others were

out there, somewhere, in their neighborhoods. The community

of Sacramento or Davis, the towns, didn’t need her, didn’t know

her. There were so many people like her here, she wasn’t a special

commodity. Even in the short time she was in Yuma, she had felt

more special. Certainly Randi had found that to be true.

She was feeling disillusioned about her life, her academic

life. She had enjoyed getting her hands dirty for a while, not just

because of the actual dirt. She’d loved everything about her time

in Yuma, especially Randi. She desperately missed the touch of

Randi’s skin and the sweet softness of her mouth.

She had thought—hoped, actually—that once she was back

in her own world, everything that had happened in Yuma would

dissipate like a dream, leaving just a few vague, pleasant images.

But her memories weren’t anything like a dream. They were

acute. They hung together in a picture that remained so real it

seemed she could simply step back into it.

She heard a knock and looked up to see Trish in the open

doorway. “Do you want to run over to the cafeteria and see what’s

for lunch today?”

“Actually, I’m meeting my brother for lunch, but thanks for

the invitation.”

“All right. I’ll catch you another time.”

Observing Trish’s warm smile and intelligent eyes, Kim

wondered for a moment if there could be anything between

them, if they could fall in love and make a go of it. That would

definitely be convenient. Why was the heart so uncooperative?

Why did it always seem to defy the brain?

“How’s it going, by the way?” Trish asked.

“Okay, though I’ve been having a little trouble working up

sufficient interest to finish any course plans for fall.”

“Not too surprising, is it? Your head’s still out there in the

desert.”

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My head? thought Kim, amused. “Yes, but I’ve just about

wrapped that up. God, Trish, you should have seen that place, the

remoteness, the beauty, the sheer reality of it. It’s like a dangerous

woman, irresistible and deceptively innocent looking. Gets under

your skin.”

Trish grinned. “A dangerous woman, huh? I like the sound

of that!”

Kim hadn’t told Trish about Randi. There was no particular

reason other than the difficulty of talking about her. She didn’t

know Trish that well, not intimately enough to reveal that kind

of emotional vulnerability.

“Did you run into any dangerous women out there, then?”

Trish asked good-humoredly.

“Yes, actually, we did. There was this old woman with a gun

who came after us one day. I thought she was going to blow our

heads off.”

“That’s not the kind of dangerous I meant.”

Kim nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“Okay, then, keep your secrets.” Trish smiled and said goodbye.

Randi was the most dangerous kind of woman there was, far

more dangerous than Nellie and her rifle. The kind of woman

who could throw your whole world into a tailspin and take away

everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Kim’s thoughts drifted once again to the last time she had

seen Randi, the day they said goodbye at the RV park, the day

after that delicious night in the desert. Randi had come over to

help her finish packing and hook up the trailer. When everything

was ready, Kim got in the cab and put the window down. She’d

glanced in her side mirror to see Randi standing there beside

the trailer, in some ways looking just like she had the first time

Kim had seen her on that road outside the BLM office. But that

day, C. Randall had just been an interesting-looking woman in

a white hat. This day, that same woman looked like the most

important person in the world to Kim. Don’t cry yet, Kim had

cautioned herself as Randi approached the open window, leaned

in and kissed her.

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“I’ll see you in July,” Kim said softly. “Don’t you dare change

your mind.”

Randi forced a smile. “Call me . . . a lot.”

Kim started the truck, touched Randi’s cheek gently, then

pulled away. Randi waved. Kim waved back and drove slowly

down the street, looking back in her side mirror. Randi stood in

the street, waving. Kim put her arm out the window to return the

gesture as she turned a corner and lost sight of those long legs

and white hat. That’s when she had let her tears go.

Kim shook her head, trying to focus on the outline she was

working on. A familiar ding told her she had new e-mail. Since

coming home, she was not able to ignore e-mail like she had

before. She opened her inbox and clicked on the new message

from CRandall@blm.gov.

I finally did it. I stayed out all night at Rainbow Wash and

photographed the Queen of the Night. It was worth it! I wish you’d been

there. See attached photo. Love, Randi.

Kim opened the attachment. A gorgeous white bloom,

illuminated by a camera’s flash, filled her screen.

Wow, she thought. That thing wasn’t much to look at for

three hundred and sixty-four days of the year, but this one night,

it was fabulous. It was like the century plant that took twenty-

five, thirty years to bloom once before it died. It had this one

glorious shot at brilliance. Were people like that too? she asked

herself. Was there a moment so full of possibility, so singular that

it could appear only once in a lifetime? If so, wasn’t it worth

waiting for, watching for and then grabbing at when it arrived?

She took another long look at the flower on her computer

screen, then logged off and left the office to make her lunch date

with her brother.

When the waitress had left with their orders, Jack held up his

cell phone to show Kim a photo of a white cockatoo. “Check this

out,” he said. “Mom’s new baby.”

“Oh, you’re kidding!” The bird had a yellow crest like a duck-

tail hair style from the 1950s. “It’s really funny that she fills her

264

empty nest with birds.”

Jack laughed. “I met him yesterday. Name’s Mitchell. Mitch

for short.”

“He’s cute,” Kim said. “He’ll keep her distracted for a

while.”

Jack snapped his phone shut and leaned back into his chair.

“Is there something on your mind, sis?”

“No, no, just thought it’d be nice to have lunch. We don’t get

together that often.”

He gazed silently across the table at her, his expression

noncommittal.

“Okay,” she said, “there is something on my mind.”

“Or someone.”

“Or someone, yes, smart-aleck. Of course, someone. You

know, I thought I could just walk away. But this is so hard.”

“Then don’t walk away. If you love each other—”

“It’s not that simple. Love’s not enough if you have to make

too many sacrifices for it. It’s not enough if you have to give up

your dreams for it.”

He nodded. “Yes, all right. You’re right, of course.”

Their lunch arrived, foccacia bread sandwiches in red baskets,

surrounded by a rainbow of red, purple, yellow and orange

vegetable chips.

“And the dream you’d have to give up,” Jack said, continuing

their conversation, “is your career, I assume. There’s no university

in Yuma and no other town close enough to commute. Quite

a sacrifice for someone like you. You’ve spent your entire adult

life going in this certain direction. Very successfully, too. Like

nobody else I know, you’ve always seemed to know exactly what

you wanted to do. You were going to be an archaeologist before

I could even pronounce it. Remember how I used to bury little

trinkets in the backyard for you to dig up?”

Kim smiled and took a bite of her sandwich.

Jack dug a sweet potato out of his chip medley. “Mom always

thought she was losing her mind because she’d end up with all of

those single earrings.”

265

Kim laughed and wiped her hands on her napkin. “It may

have looked like I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Being an

archaeologist was definitely right. The teaching, though, that

may have just been the default.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s the model you see when you’re a student. You go

out on digs with professors who spend their summers in the

field and the school year in the classroom. Teaching is one of the

usual ways of making a living in this profession. Unless you’re an

heiress or something, you can’t really spend all your time in the

field. You don’t make money that way.”

“That’s kind of a shame, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. I don’t think I ever considered any other way,

honestly. All of my role models were professors. It was the same

thing for my student helper, Ramon. He had this idea that if he

got a degree in archaeology, he’d have to be a college teacher. But

like I told his parents, it isn’t the only option. Timely discussion,

though, because BLM in Yuma has an opening right now for an

archaeologist.”

He shook his head. “It’s a huge decision. Maybe you should

take more time to think about it. You can visit her there. She can

visit you here. You don’t want to just toss off your entire career

plan for a girl you don’t know very well.”

“It’s not just Randi. This, the career path I’m on, was never

really my plan. I was just following the course of my mentors. It

was the path of least resistance, like a river flowing to the sea.”

Jack looked at her thoughtfully. He wasn’t trying to influence

her, she knew. He was playing devil’s advocate. He would want to

support her in whatever she decided.

“Not every river flows to the sea,” Kim said quietly.

She stared at the grease stain on the waxed paper in her

basket, thinking about how hard it was to be this practical. Her

heart, mind and body all just wanted to rush down to Yuma and

fling themselves at Randi whatever the consequences.

“Randi once told me about this test they use to decide if a

mining claim is valid. Called the prudent man rule. As in, what

266

would a prudent man do in this situation. I’ve been thinking a

lot about that lately. What would a prudent woman do in this

situation?”

“What would she do?”

“I have no idea!” Kim laughed. “I know what a reckless woman

would do.”

Jack smiled and nodded understandingly. Kim was grateful

for Jackson today. He always made a good sounding board.

“And I want to be at least a little reckless for a change. But I

just haven’t been able to persuade myself that it isn’t a dead end

or that the summer heat wouldn’t kill me.”

“So you’re actually considering taking the job?”

“Yes. I’ve become attached to the petroglyph site, if nothing

else. It feels like mine now. Next winter they’re going to open it

up to the public. Their archaeologist would do tours, give talks,

that sort of thing. Look over it. Protect it. And, you know, there’s

a lot of wild land down there, full of discoveries to be made. The

other guy, Matt, he hinted to me that he knew a lot of secrets

about that place and I believe it. I could find them too, in my

own time.”

“It sounds like maybe you fell in love with more than a

woman down there.”

Kim nodded. “Oh, Jack, I loved being out there! Such

an incredible, rugged beauty and everything is alive with a

tremendous, pulsing life force. I can’t describe what it feels

like.”“You’re doing a pretty good job. No need to rush into this

decision, though, is there?”

“I can’t just wait and make up my mind some day in the future.

They have only one archaeologist on staff there and the job is

open now. I called the District Manager the other day and asked

him about it. He said they’ve hired someone, some kid fresh out

of school, but if I wanted the job, he could make it happen. He

said he was tired of Randi moping around and he’d even let me

wear whatever damned kind of hat I wanted with my uniform if

I’d take the job.” Kim laughed, then waved a hand. “Never mind.

267

That’s an inside joke.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him I needed to think about it a few more days. I

asked him not to say anything to Randi. No point getting her

hopes up, you know. I’m under contract at Davis. I have a full

load of classes scheduled for fall. Changing directions like that, it

just isn’t so easy for me. It isn’t even easy for me to imagine.”

“So why don’t you talk her into moving here? Better

weather.”

“She’d hate me within six months. She belongs there. She’s

happy there. I couldn’t ask that.”

Jack smiled sympathetically. “Whatever you decide to do, I

know it will be a sound, rational decision.”

Kim sighed. “Oh, how I wish I weren’t so rational!”

268

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The air was heavy today and too hot for being outdoors. Randi

caught a whiff of her sunscreen and was immediately transported

to a moment with her nose pressed against Kim’s cheek, a lazy,

luxurious moment. Kim always smelled of sunscreen. With that

smell came all of the associated emotions of lying close and

touching Kim’s body. Randi made a mental note to change to

some other brand. This smell was now just a reminder of what

she had lost.

She drove through the desert with her air conditioner on full

blast, passing the road to Rainbow Wash. She wouldn’t be going

there today, hadn’t gone there for a while. That night she’d gone

to photograph the Queen of the Night had been the only time

since Kim had left. And the only reason she’d been able to do

269

it that night was the knowledge that she would be able to show

the flower to Kim the next day and share the experience. That

spot had become their place now. Being there alone was just too

painful.

There were so many things like that, places that reminded her

of happy days and nights with Kim. Although Kim seemed to be

looking forward to Randi’s impending visit with great anticipation,

she wasn’t really of the same mind. She was even considering

canceling. She was afraid that it would be too agonizing, like

ripping off a Band-Aid really, really slowly. Honestly, their

romance was over. Visiting one another now would be sweet, but

it would also take place under a cloud of doom with the constant

dread of parting and the certainty that each such visit could be

the last one. One of them would eventually find someone else,

someone in proximity. And the other one, who Randi always

assumed was herself, would be left in mourning. That’s how

she saw it, a prolonged period of mourning, starting with Kim’s

departure a couple of months ago. Why drag it out?

For the first time in her life she thought she had gotten it

right in so many ways. Kim was the appropriate age, compatible

in temperament, complementary in background and personality.

It was so much fun being with her, so sublime waking up next to

her. In her mind, Randi relived the short, sweet journey of her

romance with Kim over and over, from the day Kim showed up

with her fancy Tilley hat to the day she drove away, and all of

the precious moments in between. She’d tried to talk herself

into moving to Sacramento almost every other day. Part of her

believed that if she gave up everything here she loved, she would

arrive in that alien California place with nothing of her own,

relying on one thing only, her love for Kim. And what if that

didn’t last? What if it wasn’t real? Then she would be left with

nothing at all.

Minnie told her she was overthinking everything. Minnie

said she was a dope, that she should just go. Just go, she said. This

may be the best thing you ever find. Minnie was tired of Randi’s

270

moping. At least Minnie was happy now. Randi liked visiting

Blair’s ranch, seeing the two of them together. There was such

a strange transformation in Blair. She seemed totally devoted to

Minnie, as though Minnie had cast some sort of spell over her.

She was a changed woman and a joyful one. They both were.

Randi was happy for them.

She looked at her Blackberry screen. No e-mail from Kim.

She’d gotten this device after Kim left so they wouldn’t be out

of touch, even when Randi was out in the desert all day. It didn’t

always get a signal out here, but it often did. She was disappointed.

No messages from Kim today at all.

Maybe she was out with that Trish, the art teacher. That’s

how it would be—one day Kim would call her and say she was

involved with someone else, Trish. Probably Trish. That was the

only woman Randi knew about who might take Kim away from

her. And she would have to stand by helplessly letting it happen.

So she needed to call Kim and tell her that maybe the visit

was a bad idea after all. There wasn’t much time, as it was now

July. Kim would be really upset, but it was better this way. She

would call Kim tonight and cancel the visit. It would be the end.

Their spring romance would not spill over into summer after all.

It was finished. It was time to move on.

Just as she hit the paved road, Steve came on the radio.

“Randall, come in.”

“Go ahead.”

“Can you come back to the office? The new guy is here

and I want everybody to be here to give him a proper Yuma

welcome.”

“You mean like this hundred and eighteen-degree day you

ordered up?”

“You’re on your way, right?” Steve asked.

“Sure,” she said. “Be there in a few minutes. Out.”

She turned around and headed toward the office. The “new

guy” Steve was referring to was the archaeologist they had hired to

take Matt’s place. Randi had met him already, during the interview

process. He was a young, skinny twerp with no experience. Very

271

little, anyway. Barely qualified. But the applicant list had been

short. Randi tried to remember his name, but couldn’t. It hadn’t

registered with her at all.

She knew she’d been disagreeable lately. And she knew that

Steve knew why, and, to his credit, he was treating her with extra

leniency. He was a good guy. In a couple more months she would

be back to herself again, she knew, and he knew it too.

Randi’s cell phone rang as she cruised through the middle of

town unimpeded. No traffic now. Even the locals were not out

on a day like this. She glanced at her phone to see Kim’s mobile

number displayed, and felt a sense of relief.

“Hi,” she answered, slipping on her earpiece.

“Hi, yourself,” Kim said. “Can you talk?”

“For a minute. I’m on my way to the office. The new

archaeologist is here and I have to go put on a happy face for

him.”

“Oh, too bad. I know how much you’re going to hate that,

not to mention how lousy you are at it.”

“I just don’t see much point in pretending.” Randi turned

down the dirt road to the office, briefly remembering the day

she’d driven up here to find Kim helplessly blocking the road in

her RV. “I’ll be in the office in just a minute, so I’m going to have

to turn you off soon unless you want to listen in.”

“I’d get a kick out of that, listening to you pretending to be

friendly.”

Randi grunted. “So what kind of day are you having?”

“Not bad. I got a new outfit today.”

“Business or casual... or bedroom?”

As Randi said this last word, she thought about how she was

going to have to quit the flirting if she really was going to tell

Kim it was over.

“Business,” Kim said. “But not without a certain seductive

quality. At least that’s my take on it. Hard to say what you would

think.”

Randi pulled into her usual parking space and stepped out of

the truck. The outdoor heat slapped her in the face. She couldn’t

272

imagine anybody wanting to stay here if this was his first taste of

the place. The new guy would probably be gone in a week.

She noticed a late-model four-door sedan with California

plates parked amid all the pickups and SUVs. The guy was from

Los Angeles, she recalled. What kind of a vehicle was that for a

college kid? Very sedate. Very girly, as a matter of fact, especially

in a town where even the straight girls drive butch vehicles.

She pulled open the door to the building. “I wish I could

see you right now in your new outfit, although why you would

choose something even remotely seductive for your students is

a little odd.”

“It’s not for the students,” Kim told her.

“So who’s it for, then,” Randi asked, heading through the

office, “this seductive new outfit?”

Randi pushed open the door to Steve’s office to see him

standing just inside the doorway. Leaning against his desk, facing

the door and wearing a BLM uniform was Kim, her phone open

against her ear.

“It’s for you,” she said. Then she smiled triumphantly and

closed her phone.

Randi, feeling like her legs were about to give way, froze in

place, momentarily stunned.

Steve pushed her gently out of the doorway so he could get

past her. “Randi,” he said, his voice full of joviality, “I’ll let you

and the new guy get acquainted. She’s going to need some help

getting settled and finding a place to live. Maybe you can give her

a hand with that.” He left, closing the door behind him.

“Tilley!” Randi said, grabbing her firmly and hanging on.

“My God, this can’t be real.”

“It is,” Kim said, her eyes full of emotion. “Are you happy?”

“I’m ecstatic.”

Randi kissed her and then just stood looking at her. The

familiar uniform looked so unfamiliar on her. “I’m sorry, but I

just can’t get over it. I can’t stop looking at you. How is this

possible? You quit your job?”

“Yes. Caused quite a stink, really, but they let me go in the

273

end. So here I am, your new archaeologist.”

“What happened to the kid from L.A.?”

“They found him a spot at the Barstow office. He preferred

that, as it turned out. Closer to home.”

“You gave up your career for me?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Kim laughed. “I didn’t give up my

career at all. Just shifted direction a bit.”

Kim flung her arms around Randi’s neck and kissed her

passionately, then pulled back and sighed. “God, I’ve missed

you!”

Randi just swallowed, trying not to cry.

Kim’s expression relaxed into an affectionate gaze. “Like

Steve says, I’ll need a place to live. Any ideas?”

“I think I know just the place.”

She grabbed Kim’s hand and pulled her out of Steve’s office,

yelling over at him, “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

“Not surprised,” he hollered back.

“I’m going to help the new guy move into her new place.”

Turning to Kim, she said, “Where’s your stuff?”

“I have a suitcase in the car with some clothes. A trunk full of

stuff too. My brother is driving down in a few days with the rest,

once all the details are settled.”

“Details?”

“You know. Where I’ll be living, for one thing. I wasn’t going

to presume—”

They stood in the public reception area, alone except for the

coyote staring at them through the glass of the diorama.

Randi faced Kim, holding both of her hands. “You know,

I’d be happy if you did presume.” Randi felt awkward. “I mean, I

want you to— You do know how I feel about you, don’t you?”

Kim squeezed her hands. “Tell me all that later,” she said,

“when we’re home alone.”

Randi smiled gratefully. As they left the building, a wall of

heat pounded into them.

“You know,” Kim said in a perplexed tone, fanning the air

with her hand, “it’s hot here.”

274

Randi laughed, feeling lighthearted, certain that Kim would

never regret this decision. I’ll make sure she doesn’t, Randi

thought, unable to control the huge grin she knew was spreading

across her face.

275

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Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE