Lone Heart Pass. Jodi Thomas
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seen the sheriff’s car drive by a few days ago and looked forward to meeting him.
Charley didn’t miss the gentleness, a true friendliness, in Jubilee’s welcome. She’d been like that with Lillie, too. Maybe he was the only one alive who brought out her anger? Or maybe it was men in general—after all, every boyfriend had left her, she’d admitted. Which he found hard to believe, remembering the feel of her skin.
Charley tried to get his mind back in the present.
“What brings you out here, Lauren?” he said as he noticed the bone-thin kid Thatcher Jones trying to get out of her tiny car. He reminded Charley of a long-legged spider. “Did you bring the boy out to pick up his truck? I saw it parked down the road in the bar ditch.”
“Something like that.” Lauren glanced back as if she’d forgotten Thatcher was there. “He’s riding shotgun on my mission.”
Charley waved at the kid and Thatcher waved back. He’d seen the boy around. They’d never talked, but they were on waving terms.
“I’m looking for my father.” Lauren straightened as if finally getting to the reason she’d driven out. “Hikers found a body in the canyon a couple of nights ago. My dad said he’d be north of Lone Heart Pass this morning looking for clues. I’ve got information he asked for and thought the pass might be the quickest way to get it to him.”
Charley got the picture. Lauren needed his help, but she didn’t want to give more away than necessary. “You could go down into the canyon behind the museum, but I’d pack water if I were you. It could be a long walk. Or I could saddle up another horse and take you through the pass. I’m stabling several extras here and I figure the owners would be happy if I got them out for a little exercise. Once we ride down the hiker trail, we’ll probably be within sight of the sheriff if he’s still in the canyon.”
“Would you?” Lauren smiled, but like always, she seemed a bit shy. “I’d appreciate it if you’d go with me, Charley.” She gave him that you’re-almost-like-my-big-brother look she used to shoot him when she visited the ranch. Reid, who was more her age, and his friend Tim O’Grady usually ignored her at parties and roundups. Charley would always end up saddling her horse, or talking to her for a few minutes.
“Sure. Glad to help,” Charley answered, knowing he’d be working later into the night to make up the time.
The Thatcher kid’s voice cracked with excitement. “Mind saddling two horses, Mr. Collins? Like Lauren said, I’m traveling with her.”
Charley turned and saw the boy walking tall and serious. Charley gave the kid his due. “Happy to. I can always use another man who can ride.” He offered his hand. “The canyon can be tricky.”
“Glad to help.” Thatcher shook hands. “Might as well. I’ve been helping Lauren at the sheriff’s office all morning.”
Charley had an idea there was far more to the story, but he didn’t ask.
“I’m going, too,” Jubilee announced. “Just give me a minute to get my new boots on and find that hat with the strings on it.”
“But...” He tried to think of a reason for her not to tag along, but saying that his ears could use some rest from her constant questions didn’t seem polite.
Her stare locked on him. “I’m going.” She turned around so fast he had no doubt the discussion was over.
Charley fought down a groan. He’d be willing to bet his boss hadn’t been near a horse in years. He’d bought a gentle one for her while he was at the auction buying cattle and she’d yet to touch the mare.
Five minutes later, when the others climbed into the saddle, Jubilee walked to the wrong side of her mount.
“This side,” he whispered.
“Of course. I knew that.” She circled around.
She seemed so determined. He whispered a few instructions as he placed his hand on her backside and shoved her up into the saddle.
She stared down at him with angry eyes. Before she could comment, he slid his hand along her leg and shoved her boot into the stirrup. “Try to hang on to the reins, Jubilee.”
Now she looked too angry even to speak. Which Charley decided wasn’t a bad idea.
When he passed Thatcher, he whispered, “Stay close to the lady and make sure she doesn’t fall off.”
“Will do, boss,” Thatcher answered as he saluted.
As Charley expected, the kid rode as if he’d slipped from the birth canal directly onto a saddle.
On the mile ride to the pass, Lauren and Thatcher stayed on either side of Jubilee, giving her pointers, but she bounced up and down all the way. Charley had a feeling her shoulders wouldn’t be the only things red tonight.
As they entered the pass, Charley looped a lead rope from her horse to his saddle horn. Within minutes they had left the morning sun and ridden into the cool darkness of the passage. The walls on either side shot toward the heavens, and a slice of light slid down the rock, showing off the beauty of the stone that had stood silently against the weather for more than a million years.
When anyone spoke, the words echoed off the passage walls, bouncing back and forth like dueling chimes.
Every time Charley glanced back, Jubilee looked terrified. Her hands had a death grip on the saddle horn and her eyes were wide. But her back was straight and she didn’t cry out or demand they stop.
“You’re doing fine,” he offered, but she didn’t look at him.
Lauren’s calm voice whispered from behind them. “I remember how frightened I was when I rode through this pass for the first time. The night was cold, but I wanted to see the moon cross the opening above. There is a legend that if you see the full moon while in the pass, your heart’s wish will come true. Only that night I was too scared to wish for anything, even though my Pop was with me.”
From behind her, Thatcher added with a laugh, “I’d be scared if the sheriff was with me right now. I get the feeling he’s worrying his brain trying to come up with one more thing I’m doing wrong.”
Charley laughed, remembering when he was in his teens and felt the same way about Dan Brigman. Only since he’d been back from college, somehow they’d become friends. Dan had even asked him to help out a few times, manning a road block one night, rounding up drunks after a barn party and, once, directing traffic at a funeral for a ninety-year-old O’Grady. They’d had ten family cars that day. Charley didn’t want to be a deputy, but he didn’t mind being the sheriff’s friend.
After several minutes of silence, Jubilee whispered from just behind Charley, “It’s like we’re walking among ghosts in here. Like we don’t belong. Like this is a passageway only for the gods.”
“Trust me,” Charley whispered back. “If anyone were in here with us, ghost or human, we’d know it. I heard once that outlaws used this pass to disappear into the canyon.”
Thatcher didn’t help the tension by adding, “This would be a great place for snakes to hide. If it were warmer, we could probably find a whole nest curled up sleeping the day away.”
When no one commented, he added, “You know the young ones can be as deadly as the big ones. I saw a rattler not yet a foot long kill a pup once. Bit him on the nose.”
When no one joined the conversation, Thatcher started whistling softly.
Everyone took a deep breath when they made it to the other side. The small canyon, no more than a few hundred feet deep in this spot, opened out with colors ribboning the rocks and the first brush of wildflowers along the base.
Lauren and Thatcher took the lead, winding down to the bottom of the canyon so they could follow the shallow creek. From there they could look up and spot the sheriff easier.
Charley held back until