“I see no electrical lines,” he said.

“Candles and coal oil lanterns are all I need.”

“How do you keep your groceries from spoiling?”

“Store them in my icehouse. My family cuts ice from the pond for me in the winter. Insulation in the icehouse keeps the ice frozen all summer. I also have an icebox in my kitchen. Summertime, I cook outside.”

“Why do you live up here all alone?”

“Some people call me a witch. I am a shaman and prefer solitude.”

“What exactly does a shaman do?”

“Heal people, tell their fortunes, comfort them, and provide advice. Let me put something on your cuts and bruises.”

Yellow Paint Woman cleaned Buck’s wounds and rubbed them with a healing salve. They had a remarkable effect, the swelling decreasing as he watched.

“Your medicine is powerful. You said you tell fortunes. What’s mine?”

“The future isn’t easy to read. It requires not only a ceremony but also a belief in the results. There is one thing I can tell you.”

“And what is that?”

“The man Blade is dangerous. Before a week has passed, he will try to kill you not once, but three times.”

Buck felt his swollen lip. “He tried once today already.”

***

Thorn met Buck and Pard as they pulled into the Spiro Mounds Archaeological Park.

“I was beginning to think you’d stood me up,” she said, resting her elbows on his open window.

“Never. I met an old Indian woman and helped her take groceries to her house.”

“Yellow Paint Woman?”

“Know her?”

“Everyone calls her a witch. She sells potions and poultices, and some say she performs magic.”

“Does she?”

“I’m an Indian, so I’m naturally superstitious. I’m also a Ph.D. and have learned to be skeptical of such things. What happened to your face?”

“Altercation with a business associate.”

Thorn didn’t ask him to elaborate. “Not much happening and it’s a beautiful day for a horseback tour of the park,” she said. “Get out of the Jeep and let’s go.”

It was a gorgeous day, the sky a perfect shade of blue to backdrop two chicken hawks circling overhead. Pard leaped from the open window, running to Thorn and demanding attention. She grinned as she obliged.

“I just love this boy,” she said. “You need to let him come home with me.”

“Only if I’m also invited,” Buck said.

“Better saddle up Lady while I get my horse,” Thorn said, not responding to his remark.

Lady was ready, Buck in the saddle when Thorn came riding around the corner. Her horse was a beauty. The black stallion had a white face and random white splotches on his sides and hindquarters. His rear feet were also white, his gorgeous tail extra long. The little horse stood two hands shorter than Lady did.

“He’s a handsome dude,” Buck said. “Never seen one like him before.”

“Chester is a Spanish Mustang of the Uvero paint variety. He’s a wonderful saddle horse. Speaking of which, let’s ride. We’re burning daylight, cowboy.”

Buck and Lady were happy to oblige. Pard chasing after them as Thorn smacked Chester’s rear, sending him into a gallop. They couldn’t see the river though Buck could smell the water and sensed it was near. The terrain was flat except for a hill up ahead. As they approached, he realized it was a mound made by humans.

“There are twelve mounds on this park’s one-hundred-fifty acres,” she said. “This one’s the closest to our headquarters.”

The mound was little more than a flat hill overgrown with grass. “Doesn’t look like much,” he said.

“It’s higher than it looks. I assure you it was quite spectacular a thousand years ago.”

“Take your word for it.”

They both laughed when Pard barked.

A walking trail intersecting all the mounds wound around the park. They stopped in front of the largest one and dismounted. Something glinting in the sunlight caught Buck’s eye. Picking it up, he scraped dirt off it.

“What is it?” Thorn asked.

“Arrowhead.”

“Good eyes,” she said. “It’s a beauty.” The perfect point had serrated edges. “There are massive chert bluffs not far from here; the rock most people call flint. The artisans at Spiro crafted thousands of arrow and spear points. Other Native Americans traveled great distances to trade for them.”

She shook her head when he said, “Can I keep it?”

“You know better than that,” she said.

Taking it from him, she raced to the top of the mound, Buck chasing after her.

“Told you it’s taller than it looks,” she said.

Plopping on the grass, they removed their cowboy hats and relaxed. The spectacular vista stretched for miles.

“It’s beautiful up here. I didn’t know we were so close to the river. Guess I never realized how big it is,” he said.

“The Arkansas is navigable. Imagine what this view was like before centuries of erosion took its toll.”

“Tell me.”

Thorn made a sweeping motion with her hand. “This was once the largest and most powerful city in North America.”

“Why here?”

“Like you said, it’s in the bend of the Arkansas River. Rivers were major trade routes at the time, and this was an important trading center. Indians came here from as far away as Mexico, and maybe even South America to barter with each other.”

“What did they have here that someone from Mexico would want?” Buck asked.

“Bois d’arc Osage orange wood, for one thing. The best bow-making wood in North America.”

“So this was a major trading hub?”

“The Mississippians that lived here were true artisans. They carved elaborate shell gorgets found in ancient Indian settlements all over the country. They created much sought-after pottery and unique jewelry. This was also a religious center. Visitors from all over took part in the ceremonies.”

“So a thousand years ago this was the capital of the new world?” Buck said.

“Maybe it doesn’t seem so now, but that’s the reality of it,” Thorn said.

“I couldn’t believe all the intricate objects you showed me in the museum,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

“Nowhere else in the world,” she said. “Not to mention the pottery, stone pipes, feather and fabric arts. I’d put the Mississippians right up there with any group on earth when it comes to art.”

“What else?” he asked.

“Their art tells a story. Though no Mississippians exist today, it demonstrates that they were an advanced civilization. You can’t imagine what I’d give to have a time machine transport me back there.”

“I feel your passion,” he said. “There’s something about this place. It feels like hallowed ground. It’s calling to me too, and I’m not exactly sure why.”

“A thousand years ago it was the hub of the universe.”

“Now I understand why you’re so attached to this place.”

“The mounds were much larger and shaped like pyramids with flat tops. A palisade built from tall timbers circled them. The chiefs, medicine men, dignitaries and their families lived within the enclosure.”

“And outside the palisade?”

“The home to ten thousand people or more.”

“I’ve learned something. I didn’t realize there was such a place as this in Oklahoma.”

“Most people don’t. The chief occupied a house atop the highest platform mound. It was where the elders and tribal council met. The lesser officials lived in houses built on smaller mounds.”

“What’s the story on this one,” Buck said.

“Craig’s Mound, also known as the Mortuary Mound. A mining company purchased the rights during the Great Depression. They tunneled into it, extracting a fortune in artifacts that they sold all over the world.”

“Doesn’t sound good.”

“It prompted the state to step in and shut them down. This is the first and still the only archaeological park in Oklahoma.”

“Doesn’t seem possible there would be enough food to feed ten thousand people. What the heck did they eat?”

“The Mississippians were far more than hunter-gatherers. They raised corn and squash, foraged for grapes, roots, wild nuts, greens, and berries.”

“They were vegetarians?” Buck asked.

“Stop being silly. They fished, hunted deer, caught turtles, and gathered mussels from the river. You should see our collection of freshwater pearls in the museum.”

They were sitting close, their shoulders touching. When Buck took her hand, she didn’t pull away. A gentle breeze blew up from the river, rippling her dark hair. Her eyes seemed even bluer against the cloudless sky.

“What?” she finally said.

“You are gorgeous. I can hardly take my eyes off of you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” she said, wrenching her hand away. “I thought you cared about the prehistoric inhabitants of this river valley.”

“I do, but your perfume is distracting me.”

Thorn gave his shoulders a push, and he flopped to the ground. When he did, Pard jumped on him and began licking his face.

“Time out,” he finally said.

“He’s bad, Pard. Don’t let him up.”

Buck finally managed to get to his feet and brushed himself off. Pard’s tail was wagging as he licked Thorn’s nose.

“I’m not lying when I say your eyes are haunting,” he said.

“How many women have you used that line on?” she asked, hugging Pard. “If you have no more questions about the mounds, then let’s go.”

“I’ll be good,” he said. “Tell me about the thefts. Is it just here at this site?”

Thorn shook her head. “What do you know about archaeology in Oklahoma?”

“Not much,” he said.

“There were Native Americans all over this state long before the Trail of Tears. Workers at construction sites discover artifacts on almost a daily basis.”

“You mean like when they clear a location for an oil well?”

“Yes, or a new shopping center, or housing development. Work has to stop until someone checks it out. Usually, it’s nothing more than an arrow point or a few shards of pottery. I get involved when someone uncovers a gravesite or ancient village.”

“Some of the objects you find at these locations are valuable?”

“You can only imagine. Consider the historical value of the Black Cup, not to mention that it is perfect and unbroken.”

“You’re saying someone stole it from a site other than this?” he asked.

Thorn nodded. “We have several digs going on as we speak in eastern Oklahoma. It would surprise you the things we discover.”

“Was Pascal LeFlore working on the dig?”

“He was nowhere near. That’s why I find it so hard to believe that he had the cup in his possession. Where did he get it?”

“Guess that’s the sixty-four dollar question,” he said.

“And why I’m glad you’re here to help.”

“Who participates in these digs?”

“Graduate students, many from OU, OSU, and as far away as the University of Texas.”

“Could one of the grad students be responsible for the thefts?”

“Not likely,” she said. “There are different teams working different digs. We’ve had artifacts disappear now from all the digs.”

“Theft like that is all but impossible to trace, and someone knows it,” he said.

“It’s heartbreaking. I feel so helpless.”

Buck took her hand again. “I promise I’ll find out who’s responsible for the thefts and see that they end.”

“I’m not exactly sure why I believe you,” she said. When he moved to kiss her, she pushed him away and sprang to her feet. “You’re hopeless. I’ll race you back to the museum.”

“Lady’s a registered quarter horse. There’s no faster breed on earth. Chester’s pretty, but I’ll be waiting for you before you’re halfway back.”

“Wanna bet dinner on it? She said.

“You’re on, pretty girl.”

Thorn gave him another push before turning and hurrying down the hill. Buck ran after her, slipping and tumbling the final ten feet before reaching the ground. She was already in the saddle, racing toward the museum. Doing a flying mount, he gave Lady a slap on the rear, and tore after her.

They’d gone two-hundred yards before Buck realized he was in a hopeless position. Lady was fast, though had no chance against her speedy little stallion. When he and Lady barreled to a stop, Thorn was already dismounted and smiling as she leaned against his Jeep.

“You cheated,” he said.

“I didn’t need to. I beat you by a country mile.”

“A hundred feet maybe,” he said. “What kind of horse is Chester?”

“Spanish Mustang,” she said. “Now you owe me. After racing you into the ground, I’m starved. I want the biggest T-bone in the county, a bottle of expensive wine and at least two foo-foo drinks to top things off.”

 

 

 

Chapter 11

 

 

Buck didn’t like losing. Even after they’d groomed the horses and stowed their tack, he was still pouting.

“Give it up, cowboy. You never had a chance. Everyone around here knows Chester is the fastest horse in the county. I’ll buy dinner tonight, and I’m sorry I duped you.”

“A bet laid is a bet made,” he said. “You won fair and square, and I’m buying. I don’t renege on wagers.”

“Sure about that?”

“I want a rematch one of these days. Right now, I’m up for the most expensive place around. I’m buying and not taking no for an answer.”

“Got room in that expensive hauler of yours for another horse?”

“You bet,” he said. “It’s a double.”

“Then let’s take the ponies to my house. It’s not far from here, or the restaurant. Pard can stay with my dog Maggie while we eat.”

Thorn’s house was in the foothills overlooking the river. Buck followed her there from the Archaeological Park. He waited until she’d unlocked the gate and had parked in front of the house, then pulled in behind her.

A porch with a railing surrounded the house. A stone fireplace protruded from its sloped roof covered in rusted tin. She helped him unload the horses, leading them to a barn, putting them in adjoining stalls.

“I have a large pasture for my donkey Ted, pot-bellied pig Manda, and two llamas, Cheech and Chong,” she said. “They keep coyotes and other predators away. Your beautiful horse will be safe and happy while we’re gone.” A large bird dog came running around the corner to greet them. “This is Maggie. She’s my big baby.”

Maggie was a beautiful shorthaired bird dog. She and Pard stood nose to nose. Their wagging tails told Buck all he needed to know about how they would get along while he and Thorn were at dinner. Hearing their commotion, Manda came running from around the corner.

“She’s the nosiest animal I’ve ever had, and also the best watchdog, or in her case, watch pig.”

Buck rubbed the friendly animal’s ears when she walked up to check him over with her big snout.

“Watch it, or you’ll never get rid of her.”

“I love her,” he said. “How much does she weigh?”

“Don’t ask. She eats me out of house and home. Let me check their food and water before we go.”

Thorn’s ranch was a little slice of heaven on earth with an amazing view of the distant river. Buck took in the scenery as he helped her finish her chores

“You ready?” she finally said.

“Can we go like this?”

His question made her laugh. “Everyone will be in boots, jeans, and Stetsons.”

They wheeled into the parking lot of the Buffalo Roadhouse about twenty minutes later. The secluded establishment lay at the end of a dusty dirt road on a bluff above the Arkansas River. Friday night, darkness approached. Motorcycles and shiny pickups filled the gravel parking lot. Country music poured from the front door when a smiling couple exited.

“Think I’m gonna like this place,” he said.

“You like to line dance?” she asked.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” he said.

Music from the dance floor was a little too loud, the aroma drifting from the kitchen intoxicating. A smiling woman led them outside to a deck overlooking the river. In Stetson, red bandana, boots, and faded jeans, she looked the part of a western cowgirl.

Japanese lanterns swayed in the breeze. Fans and misting devices cooled the temperature and kept the mosquitoes away. A waitress dressed like the woman that had greeted them arrived to take their order.

“Mimi,” Thorn said, embracing the older woman. “Buck, this is Aunt Mimi.”

Mimi was an older version of Thorn, complete with blue eyes.

“Aunt,” Buck said. “You look more like sisters.”

“I think I like you,” Mimi said. “What you drinking, baby?”

“Daiquiri,” Thorn said.

“You’re bad. I see it in your eyes. I’m going to tell your mother.”

“Tell her. See if I care.”

“You, sweetie?” Mimi asked, looking at Buck.

“Coors, and save your cold mug for someone that needs it,” he said.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Thorn asked when Mimi had left.

“Love it here,” he said. “Your aunt can’t be much older than you are.”

“Nine years. Mom has four sisters and a brother, Mimi the youngest. She used to babysit me.”

It was growing dark, birds circling an eddy in the river below them. Mimi returned with their drinks and menus.

“Don’t need one,” Thorn said. “Bring me your most expensive steak, rare, salad, and baked potato with all the fixings.”

“Make it two,” Buck said. “And your best bottle of Cabernet.”

“You got it,” Mimi said as she hurried back to the kitchen.

People began pouring out of the restaurant as the sun dipped toward the horizon.

“You’re about to see the Roadhouse’s biggest attraction,” she said, clutching his hand.

They watched as a spectacular sunset disappeared below the hazy horizon. “Beautiful,” he said.

“You’ll have more surprises before the night is over. Wait till you try the steak.”

Thorn was right again, Buck’s T-bone grilled to perfection. When someone opened the swinging doors, loud country music blasted out at them. Glancing around, he noticed someone standing in the half-opened doorway, staring in their direction. Thorn didn’t notice and he didn’t mention it to her.

When the band took a break, several couples joined them on the deck, some smoking, and others enjoying the clear night. The bottle of wine already gone, Thorn drained her second daiquiri.

“I have to go to the ladies room,” she said. “When Mimi returns, order me another drink. Tell her we’d like a table inside closer to the music.”

Thorn’s Aunt Mimi was happy to oblige and moved him to a dark table near the dance floor.

“I’ll tell Thorn where you are,” she said.

The band was returning from its break, preparing to start their next set. After ten minutes had passed with Thorn failing to show, he went looking for her.

Swinging doors separated the main dining room from the dance hall. He saw her through the glass. Three diners occupied a table, Thorn chatting with them. One was Ezekiel Big Shoe, the woman beside him likely his wife.

Thorn was in an animated conversation with the third person. The young man he’d seen staring at them while they were sitting on the deck. Neither he nor Thorn was smiling. Buck returned to his table on the dance floor without disturbing them.

Dancers clad in Stetsons, boots and faded denim jammed the dance floor. Thorn joined him, a fresh drink in her hand.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Couldn’t be better,” she said. “Let’s dance.”

They danced almost every song during the band’s set. Thorn was consuming daiquiris at an alarming rate and becoming ever tipsier. When she went to the cowgirl’s room and left her keys on the table, he appropriated them.

Ezekiel Big Shoe, his wife and the man to whom Thorn was talking, exited the dining room. When the younger man saw him sitting alone, he strolled over.

“I’m Zeke Big Shoe. And you are?”

“Buck McDivit. Glad to meet you. The Saints are my favorite team, behind the Dallas Cowboys, that is.”

Zeke wasn’t smiling. He was four inches taller than Buck and had the good looks of a GQ model. His designer jeans hadn’t come from a rack in Wal-Mart, and his expensive snakeskin boots were custom-made. He flashed his Super Bowl ring in Buck’s face as the older Big Shoe and the woman with him joined them.

“I should have known,” Big Shoe said.

“You two know each other,” Zeke asked.

“He works for Clayton,” Ezekiel said.

When Buck saw the older Big Shoe wasn’t going to introduce him to the woman, he stood and shook her hand.

“I’m Buck,” he said.

“Madelyn Big Shoe,” she said.

Except for a streak of gray in her hair, Madelyn was an older version of Kristen, Big Shoe’s girlfriend. Buck felt sure she had no idea why her husband was acting like a complete asshole.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Big Shoe,” he said.

“Seems my husband doesn’t like you,” she said.

“We got off on the wrong foot, though we still have time to mend fences.”

Big Shoe’s wry smile was his only comment as he turned away and headed for the exit.

“Nice meeting you, Buck,” Madelyn said before following her husband out the door.

Zeke continued giving Buck the once over. “What’s your deal with Thorn?” he asked.

“Deal? We just met yesterday. I’m working with her on something at the Archaeological Park.”

“Like what?” Zeke asked.

“Stolen Indian antiquities,” Buck said, realizing the conversation had turned cool.

“Thorn’s had quite a bit to drink.”

“I took her keys,” Buck said. “I’ll see she gets home in one piece.”

“See you around,” Zeke said.

Buck followed him out the door. Far away from the nearest city, vivid starlight ruled the cloudless sky. In the fluorescent glow of a parking lot lamp, bats circled, darting for flying insects. A rocking chair beside the door moved in a gentle breeze. He sat in it, watching Zeke open the door to a late-model Cadillac for his mom. Ezekiel wasn’t with them.

The Caddie had disappeared over the hill when a black Corvette came around the corner. Instead of following the Caddie back to town, the Vette sped away in the opposite direction. The vanity tag, BigShoe, left no doubt who owned it.

Mimi met him with more drinks when he returned to his table. ”Guess you met the Big Shoe’s,” she said. “What do you think?”

“You tell me,” he said. “You know them better than I do.”

She glanced around, looking for Thorn, pulling up a chair beside him when she didn’t see her.

“Ezekiel Big Shoe is a womanizing prick. He’s come on to every woman in the county, including me. I’m afraid Zeke is just like his daddy. Don’t know that for a fact. I do know he’s broken Thorn’s heart. I hope to hell you get rid of him for her.”

“Is that what she’s trying to do?”

“Don’t know, but I’d be careful if I were you. Zeke’s the hero of the county. Some of his good-old-boy buddies might not like it if they think you’re trying to steal his girl.”

“Does she love him?”

Mimi didn’t have time to answer as Thorn returned to the table, tapping her aunt’s shoulder.

“Trying to steal my new boyfriend, Aunt Mimi?”

“If I was ten years younger and could move on the dance floor like you, I’d give it a try.”

“Then you like him?” she asked.

“You kidding me, baby. Every woman in this place has their eyes on this stud muffin. If I were you, I’d get him out of here before they start in on you.”

“Mimi, you crack me up,” Thorn said. “Did you bring me another daiquiri?”

“I was thinking of calling a cab.”

Thorn giggled. “There are no cabs around here. Don’t worry about me. I’ve made it home in lots worse shape than I am now.”

When Mimi glanced at Buck, he showed her Thorn’s keys. “I’m drinking 3.2 Coors. I’ve only had a couple, and a glass or two of wine. We’ll be fine.”

Mimi gave them both a hug. “Okay, baby, one more daiquiri. Don’t tell your mama on me.”

They had danced through another set before Buck begged off. “You’re wearing me out. I need to sit for a spell.”

When Mimi returned to the table to chat, he stepped out for some fresh air, and a moment away from the noisy crowd. At least he thought he was alone until someone tapped his shoulder.

He wheeled around in time to duck a roundhouse punch whistling over his head. The person that had taken the swing outweighed him by forty pounds or more. Catching the man’s hand, he applied a finger hold he’d learned as a police officer. The attacker yelped in pain and sank to his knees.

“What’s your problem, big fella?” he asked.

“Thorn is Zeke Big Shoe’s girl. Everyone around here knows that.”

“Thorn and Zeke are adults. They don’t need your help.”

The man moved away without replying when Buck released him. He handed Mimi his credit card when he returned to the table.

Thorn’s words were slurred when she said, “I’m not ready to go. There’s another set coming up.”

“You have a dig early tomorrow,” he said. “Remember?”

“Baby, you’ve had enough,” Mimi said, putting her shoulder under her arm and leading her to the door.

Thorn’s head bobbed as they helped her into the Jeep. Mimi gave Buck a wink, waving as they drove away down the country road.

 

 

 

Chapter 12

 

 

Buck fumbled in the dark with the keys when he reached the front gate of Thorn’s property. She was asleep in the passenger seat and hadn’t moved since they’d left the Roadhouse. Pard and Maggie were raising a ruckus in the backyard as he unlocked the front door and turned on the porch light.

Thorn was dead weight. He had to wrestle her onto the bed. Maggie and Pard watched, wagging their tails, as he pulled off her boots. Knowing how bad it felt to wake up with a hangover, he thought about removing her jeans and blouse. Instead, he covered her with a quilt, deciding he didn’t know her well enough. Turning out the lights, he went into the kitchen.

Maggie and Pard demanded attention. After popping the top on a cold beer he found in the refrigerator, he obliged them. They gobbled up a couple of dog treats, then returned to Maggie’s extra large doggie bed by the stove.

Turning off the lights, he went into Thorn’s cozy den. Pulling off his boots, he plopped on the old couch that sat in front of her pot-bellied stove.

“Good for you, Pard,” he said, glancing at the doggie bed. “At least one of us has a girlfriend to keep them warm tonight.”

***

A storm came up, with thunder rattling windows as rain drummed a cadence on Thorn’s tin roof. Lost in a dream world, Buck didn’t awaken. At least until a bright light shining in his eyes caused him to open them. When he did, he sat straight up on the couch, not believing what he saw.

Before him stood a beautiful woman, an aura of blue light radiating from her naked body. He first thought it was Thorn. Instead, it was someone he’d never expected to see again. His heart began racing inside his bare chest.

“Is it you, Esme, or am I dreaming?”

“Come to me and see,” she said.”

When he pressed against her and began smothering her with kisses, he knew she was real.

Esme was tall and graceful, her long hair and demanding eyes as dark as the storm raging outside the house. As he pressed against her soft breasts, a familiar rush coursed through his body. Just to make sure it was she, he turned her around. As he remembered, a rattlesnake tattoo highlighted the supple curve of her shoulder.

“It’s been two long years. Not a day has passed that I didn’t think about you,” he said. “Why did you go away?”

“I know it hurt you, Buck McDivit. I could not help it because I am from a different place and time.”

“What place, and what time?” he said.

“You will see. I will take you there. First, you must become as naked as I am.”

Buck’s jeans dropped to the floor. “I’m ready,” he said. “Where are we going?”

“To a place you’ve never imagined,” she said.

Esme held his hand as they passed through the locked door as if it weren’t there. The storm had grown stronger as rain poured down in sheets. Thunder rocked their steps, lightning sizzling across an angry sky.

Sharp stones from the gravel driveway didn’t hurt his feet. Though rain gushed off his head and shoulders, he was oblivious to it. Esme led him down the hill, their feet sinking into the mire as they reached a pond overflowing from the deluge. Lightning laced the darkness above them. He hesitated when she stepped into the roiling water.

“Come with me,” she said.

He continued to waver. “It’s dangerous.”

Pulling him toward her, she said, “Trust me.”

Neck deep in churning water, they embraced as lightning kissed the pond. It set off a kaleidoscope of radiating colors that made his head spin. When he opened his eyes, darkness was gone. So was the storm. Dancing rays of sunshine radiated through the cloudy sky. Birds soared overhead, and only friendly drops of rain rippled the water’s surface.

“We’ve crossed over,” she said.

“That was the wildest ride I’ve ever taken. What just happened?”

“You did this once before. You just don’t remember.”

“Did what?” he asked.

“Walked across time,” she said. “Brace yourself for culture shock because you are now in my world.”

They were in the river. Esme took his hand and led him out of the water to a teepee near its bank. The same teepee Esme lived in when he’d met her near the pagan village of Lykaia. When they pushed through the flap, he saw Beauty, Esme’s giant wolf dog. They moved toward one another, meeting in the middle, and were soon rolling on a deerskin rug.

“Where the hell have you been,” Buck said, giving her big neck a warm hug.

“She’s missed you, and so have I,” Esme said.

“You can’t imagine how much I’ve missed both of you.”

“Yes I can,” she said. “Let’s get you dressed. I have much to show you.”

Soon, Buck looked like a Mississippian warrior, Esme like a medicine woman. Beauty hadn’t left Buck’s side until Esme told her to stay and guard the teepee.

“She doesn’t like crowds,” she said.

Buck gave the large beast another hug and then followed Esme out the door. He could hardly believe the sights that began unfolding around them.

Dozens of canoes occupied the riverbank and more floated in the river. When they crested the natural levee, his jaw dropped. Wooden houses with thatched roofs stretched for as far as he could see. Indian women, naked from the waist up, were working small truck gardens. Men, returning from a hunt, carried a deer and a large turtle.

“They are preparing for the festival,” Esme said.

Buck was curious. “Festival?” he said.

“You’ll see.”

They were both resplendent in colorful paint and feathers. Esme seemed to know everyone and exchanged smiles and greetings as they passed. They soon reached a palisade. Behind the timbered walls, stately mounds, topped by wooden houses, jutted toward the sky. Activity outside the entrance to the palisade was heavy.

“It’s festival day,” she said. “Some of the people have traveled a thousand miles to be here.”

“Tell me about this festival.”

“Tomorrow is the first day of summer, the longest day of the year. For my people, it is one of our holiest days. Today is the eve of the summer solstice. Our chief will speak, and there will be a game of chunkey. Following the game, the bonfire is lit, and everyone feasts, chants, and dances until dawn.”

Buck had met Esme for the first time during a solstice celebration. He remembered because he’d been the only male present. He and several hundred naked pagan females had danced the night away in a solstice ceremony. When he’d met Esme, she’d been the spiritual leader of the pagan enclave known as Lykaia.

“Are we going to dance like we did when we first met?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I am the medicine woman. I must feast with our chief, the elders, and the emissaries from many other tribes. I have other plans for you.”

“What tribes?”

“Mississippians from all over, Aztecs and Mayans from Mexico, and Anasazi from Four Corners.”

“You must be kidding.”

“I assure you I’m not.”

They all wore their festival best. Pearls, shells, and colorful beads adorned the braids in many of the women’s long hair. Most of the men had painted faces and shaved heads with only a top knot. Colors of their costumes moved like a kaleidoscope in slow motion.

The palisade was on a hill. From their vantage, they could see the bend in the large river. Hundreds of canoes lined the bank, more still arriving. Everyone, it seemed, was smiling.

“How can so many tribes coexist?”

“Spiro, as you know it, is the religious hub of our universe. There can be no war, strife, or disagreement in this holy place, especially on the eve of the summer solstice. Well, except for chunkey,” she said.

The scene reminded him of the open marketplace in Santa Fe. This was similar but ten times larger. A myriad of color, noise and excitement, and jewelry wasn’t the only thing for sale.

The aroma of fresh corn, squash, grapes, and a dozen other vegetables floated in a warm breeze. A big black dog that no one seemed to own sniffed his leg before disappearing into the crowd.

“This place is shoulder to shoulder,” he said. “Reminds me of the crowds at the state fair, or an OU football game.”

“There are many thousands here today,” she said.

“Thorn would be in heaven,” he said.

“She descended from Mississippians.”

“I can’t imagine anyone loving their cultural history more than her.”

“She is a good person. Maybe too good for the likes of you.”

“What about for you?”

Esme’s smile disappeared. “We were never meant to be.”

“Star-crossed lovers?” he said, squeezing her hand.

“We must live in the moment. I have you now, at least for a short time, and there are many things I need to tell you.”

They strolled through the open-air market, marveling at the crafts. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, only a flock of gulls circling to land on a pond created by a bend in the river.

“It’s time to enter the palisade,” she said.

“I understand every word these people are saying. They can’t be speaking English.”

“You left your clothes and many other things in Oklahoma. While you are here, you are one of us.”

The high-timbered palisade surrounding the enclave was more spectacular than Thorn had described. A moat filled with water surrounded the tall timbers. Guards armed with spears left little doubt that no one entered except by invitation. He and Esme were on the list. They followed a circular maze until it opened into the ancient gated city of Spiro. The panorama blew him away.

“I visited the Archaeological Park yesterday. I had no idea it looked as spectacular as this.”

“The new world’s version of Camelot,” she said. “The game is starting. Would you like to see?”

In the distance, hundreds of spectators occupied a large arena where two teams were beginning to compete.

“It’s a half-mile away. It’ll be lunch before we get there,” he said.

“We don’t have to walk,” she said, snapping her fingers.

Four men appeared with a hand carriage, waiting until Esme and Buck had climbed aboard. Hoisting it to their shoulders, they began trekking toward the chunkey game. Rampant noise grew louder as they approached the arena, covered seating awaiting them. Play stopped as the players, and the crowd acknowledged Esme’s appearance.

“They treat you like a goddess,” Buck said.

She wasn’t smiling when she said, “To my people, I am a goddess.”

Forty people occupied covered seating opposite them. A man in bright paint sat in a cane throne decorated by wreaths of flowers and feathers. The throne rose high above everyone else in the box.

“He must be a bigwig,” he said.

“Walking Wolf is chief of the Mississippians. He’s without a doubt the most powerful person in North America.”

Walking Wolf’s throne was quite a distance away for a good look. Still, the regal old man seemed strangely familiar to Buck.

 

 

 

Chapter 13

 

 

Buck had attended many sporting events, both amateur and professional. He’d never seen one quite as loud and raucous as the chunkey match.

Eight contestants and a referee, surrounded by several thousand adoring fans, occupied the football-sized field. Dressed in breechcloths, the competitors had faces painted white with black eyes like raccoons. Both teams wore pillbox hats woven of straw. One of the men stood at least six-six, and towered over the others.

“That’s Talako,” Esme said. “He’s the captain of our team. We have never lost a game.”

“Impressive,” he said. “Who are they playing?”

“A team from a large Mississippian settlement called Cahokia. They have also never lost.”

“One of their dudes is almost as big as Talako,” Buck said. “How is the game played?”

“With short spears and a stone roller chiseled from quartz. Talako and the big man from the other team are the spears. They do all the throwing and most of the scoring. Each team has a disc roller and two team members called fronts that run interference. Only the disk rollers can touch the disk, and only the spears can throw them. The fronts use their spears for tripping, and preventing the disk from going through the goal posts. That’s five points. You’ll get the gist once they start playing.”

One of the Cahokians had a six-inch stone disk with a hole in the middle. Taking a stance like a pro bowler, he rolled it toward the opposite goal. The referee waited until the disk had traveled about twenty feet and then waved his hand. Talako and the big man from the Cahokia team launched their spears. When the disk came to a halt, a ref ran onto the field, picked up the closest spear to the disk and held up a finger.

“One point,” Esme said. “The first team to reach twelve points wins.”

“What’s the significance of the hole in the disk?” Buck asked.

“If a spear penetrates the hole, then the game is over. The team that makes the toss is the winner.”

“Seems unlikely for that to happen.”

“Almost never,” she said.

When the ref waved his hand again, eight men ran toward the disk. The melee that followed resembled hand-to-hand combat. Both teams pushed and shoved, the fronts doing their best to break their opponent’s legs. A Cahokian retrieved the disk and launched it toward the goal. The scrum continued, both teams fighting for position and scoring a few points. The crowd had grown inflamed.

“There’s massive betting going on in the stands,” she said. “Much property will change hands because of this match.”

“Most everyone’s rooting for our team,” Buck said.

“Not all. There’s a large contingent of Cahokians here to watch the game.”

Talako’s spear landed within inches of the disk, the crowd standing and yelling. When the ref waved his hand, the two Cahokian fronts took Talako’s legs out from under him. When they did, the big spear kicked him in the side.

“Damn! That looked like a foul to me. Those boys are serious. They don’t have a penalty box in this game?”

“Chunkey emulates combat. Bones are often broken. The crowd expects the team to play through their pain.”

“Brutal. Sort of like pro football. How long till the ref calls a break?”

Esme shook her head. “They’ll battle until they drop, or the game is over. There are no quarters.”

“And the reward?” he asked.

“Life, the losers killed and their scalps displayed on the winner’s belts.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” he said.

“If the visiting team wins, our chief will pardon them because this is a religious holiday. If our team loses, they will lose their heads.”

“Doesn’t look like they’re in any danger of that. They’re ahead by six points.”

“I pray not,” Esme said. “Talako is Walking Wolf’s only grandson, and the greatest warrior our tribe has.”

“Your chief wouldn’t allow his own flesh and blood to have his head chopped off.”

“Not only allow it, he would proclaim it so. He would have no choice,” she said.

“You seem distressed. You okay?”

“These games always frighten me.”

“You want to leave?”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Something you aren’t telling me?”

“Walking Wolf and I are time walkers, inherited only when both parents are also walkers. The only other walker in the tribe is Talako.”

Buck stared at her anxious expression, trying to decipher what she had just told him.

“So you and Talako are . . . ?”

“Betrothed,” she said. “We must marry and have a child.”

She squeezed his hand, her eyes begging for understanding.

“I had hoped we were going to do more than just hold hands tonight.”

“I am so sorry. That is not possible,” she said.

“Do you love him?”

“As much as I love you.”

“Then I guess it’s okay,” he said.

When they returned their attention to the game, they saw that the Spiro team had drawn within a point of winning. The Cahokian roller gave the disk a great heave, the crowd waiting until the referee waved his hand. As he did, Talako and the big Cahokian launched their spears. The disk hit a bump and fell on its side as Talako’s spear sailed over it.

When the Cahokian’s spear began its descent, every spectator in the arena sensed what was about to happen. As the missile landed in the hole in the disk, the crowd grew deathly silent. The chief came down from his cane throne, motioning Talako to approach him. Esme’s face turned bright red as she squeezed Buck’s hand.

“I can’t believe this,” he said.

“If he can break Talako’s spear, then it is a sign that the Great Spirit wishes him to die. Walking Wolf will have to take his head.”

Buck stood. “I’ll stop it,” he said.

Esme pulled him back into his seat. “No. If the spear breaks, then it is ordained.”

Talako’s head hung low as he knelt in front of his grandfather and handed him his spear. Removing a serrated stone dagger from his ceremonial belt, Walking Wolfe drove it into the earth. Then he raised the spear over his head and did a slow turn so that everyone in the stands could see.

Esme let go of Buck’s hand, her tears flowing and the veins in her neck bulging. She clinched her hands, almost as if she also had hold of the spear.

Though smaller than his grandson, Walking Wolf looked anything except weak. Buck could see he was preparing to break the spear and had little doubt that he could complete the task. As the rapt crowd watched in silence, his muscles strained, his face turning red. Buck and everyone else expected the spear to snap at any second.

Despite his efforts, the spear never even bowed. Finally, the anger imprinted on his face disappeared, replaced with a smile. He turned again to the crowd.

“This spear is unbreakable. Would anyone care to try?” He walked around the arena, offering it to anybody that might accept it. No one did, not even the contingency from Cahokia. “Then the Great Spirit has spoken,” he said. “I deem this contest a draw.”

Cheers erupted from the crowd as Chief Walking Wolf returned the spear to Talako. Buck glanced at Esme, her hands still clinched and tears streaming down her face. He took her hands and uncoiled her fingers. Two deep red welts occupied her palms. He began massaging them.

“You saved him, didn’t you?” he said.

Her breathing labored, she answered. “It took every ounce of power I have. I couldn’t let him die.”

People began filing out of the arena as Esme regained her composure.

“What now?” he asked.

“A meeting with Walking Wolf. You are about to learn why we brought you here.”

Mesmerized by the game in the arena, Buck hadn’t noticed much of the scenery inside the palisade. Now that it was over, he glanced around at the mounds that seemed much larger than when he viewed them with Thorn.

“These structures are magnificent pyramids. They seemed like nothing more than mounds of dirt when I saw them yesterday,” he said.

“Withered by centuries of wear and erosion. I am thankful you get to see them in all their glory.”

“So am I.”

“Like the pyramids of the Mayans and Aztecs, ours predict astrological patterns.”

“Like tomorrow’s solstice?”

She nodded. “Now, we must meet Chief Walking Wolf in the Great Hall atop the main pyramid,” she said.

Buck was breathing hard as they climbed the pyramid. When they reached the top, he could see that the panorama was breathtaking.

“What are they building down there?” he asked.

“A giant bonfire to celebrate the solstice. Chief Walking Wolf will address the masses just before dark. The ceremonial lighting of the bonfire will then occur. You will see.”

A massive wooden house occupied the flat top of the pyramid. Esme led him down a long hallway to a darkened room and the chief of the Mississippians soon joined them.

“Oh, my God!” Buck said when he saw him. “You’re Pascal LeFlore.”

“I am Chief Nashobanowa. That means Walking Wolf in our language. I go by many other names. Like you, Esme, and my grandson, I am a walker. I was the one that handed you the Black Cup.”

“But you died,” Buck said.

“No, because I was never alive in your time. Walkers cannot alter time. Please, have a seat.”

Chief Walking Wolf sat on a colorful blanket situated on the dirt floor. Buck and Esme joined him. The man was much older than they were, though younger than the old man he’d pulled from the burning pickup.

“There is much you don’t understand about walking through time,” Esme said. “Right now, it is not important. What is important is the reason we brought you here.”

“Which is?” he asked.

“We first must drink from the Black Cup,” Walking Wolf said.

The cup was similar to the one Pascal LeFlore had given him. This one exuded a distinct glow, its aura pulsating when Walking Wolf shifted it in his hands.

“You have done this before,” Esme said. “With the Great Spirit when he took the embodiment of a man.”

“I don’t remember,” Buck said.

“It is okay,” Chief Walking Wolf said. “The point is we know you are reverent and that you appreciate this moment.”

“The Black Cup is as old as time,” Esme said. “The relic is the most valuable, venerated, and holy object our tribe possesses. Every one of us would give their life to protect it.”

“And we do,” Walking Wolf said. “But there is a problem.”

“The Black Cup is in danger of desecration,” Esme said. “Though not in our time, and out of our control.”

They both nodded when he said, “Haskel Doonkeen?”

“The man who calls himself Blade,” the chief said.

“He has gone to great lengths to get the cup,” Esme said. “Chief Walking Wolf and I have done everything we can. We are powerless to protect it from him in your world.”

“Will you help us?” he asked.

“If it’s within my power, I’ll stop him,” Buck said.

“I believe you,” Walking Wolf said. “But we must drink from the Black Cup to assure that it is so. Are you prepared?”

Buck nodded as a young woman appeared through the door’s skin flap. Below the waist, she wore moccasins on her feet and a deerskin skirt. Above the waist, except for red paint, bright feathers, and strings of beads, she was quite naked. She was also attractive.

“This is my daughter, Teawah. She will assist us with the ceremony,” he said.

Chief Walking Wolf held the cup as she filled it. He took a deep breath before drinking. Whatever was in the cup was potent because his eyes crossed, and he looked as if he were about to pass out. Esme took the cup from his trembling hand, waiting as Teawah refilled it from her pitcher.

“The tea from the Black Cup induces visions,” she said. “It tastes like death, though is life itself. It focuses our mind’s patterns and illuminates the future.”

She took a drink from the cup, her reaction to tasting the concoction much the same as Walking Wolf’s. Buck thought she was about to throw up. She didn’t, though her entire body shook as she handed him the empty cup.

“The tea lays bare our fears and desires,” Walking Wolf said. “Two things from which we hide. Take it in one drink, or you won’t finish it.”

Teawah drew close to him, filling the cup with the viscous fluid. He could feel her warmth and smell her lotus perfume as he touched the dark concoction to his lips. The tea was so foul tasting he had the instant urge to spit it from his mouth. He didn’t, taking the chief’s advice and drinking it in one long swallow.

Buck felt his eyes cross. The room began to spin, Esme, Walking Wolf, and Teawah staring at him, laughing. His body shook and stomach churned as Teawah pulled him toward a door that led outside. He reached it in time to vomit over the railing. With his body twitching and head pounding, he let her lead him back to his seat on the rug.

The hallucinogenic tea affected Walking Wolf and Esme less than Buck. He watched as Teawah refilled the chief’s cup. This time, she had to lead him to the back door. Esme soon followed.

Buck’s head continued to swim. He’d never felt so drunk. The room had begun to rotate. Explosions of colored lights illuminating dark worlds he’d never imagined. Esme was a snarling jaguar, the chief a giant wolf pacing the floor.

Teawah’s smile was sultry as she approached him. Engulfing him in her willowy arms, she kissed him and pressed her soft breasts into his chest. When her intoxicating perfume changed into the fetid breath of a man, he recoiled. It was Haskel Doonkeen. Buck pushed him away.

Blade’s features began to change. He morphed into a giant, hairy creature that looked almost human. Buck was trying to scream when someone put the Black Cup to his lips again. It was the last thing he remembered for awhile.

 

 

 

Chapter 14

 

 

Buck’s brain was trying to kick its way out of his skull when he opened his eyes. The visions were gone, though his stomach continued to churn. It forced him to take yet another trip to the back door.

“We gave you the antidote,” Esme said. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes. Can you tell us what you saw?”

“Haskel Doonkeen and a giant, monster-like man,” he said.

He omitted telling them about his sensuous encounter with Teawah.

Esme took Buck’s hand. “Chief Walking Wolf and I are powerless to protect the Black Cup in your world. We need your help against Blade.”

“You have my word.”

That was all Chief Nashobanowa needed to hear. After giving Buck a solemn nod, he exited the dark room with Teawah. Before disappearing through the deerskin flap, she turned and nodded. It made him wonder if part of the vision had actually been real. Esme gave him no time to ponder.

“Are you okay now?” she asked.

“I’ll live,” he said. “I wasn’t so sure a few minutes ago.”

“Do you still have the Black Cup?”

“It’s with Thorn at the museum.”

“And that’s where it should stay,” she said.

“How many children and grandchildren does Chief Walking Wolf have?” he asked.

Esme laughed. “Many.”

“And Talako is the only time walker?”

“Chief Walking Wolf has many wives. Only one was a walker. Talako’s father died in battle; his mother while giving birth to him.”

“You said I’m a walker.”

“A gift bestowed by the Great Spirit.”

“Then why couldn’t you and I have a child?”

Esme squeezed his hand. “We come from different times. You can do nothing to affect my world, or I to yours.”

She pulled him to his feet and led him to a window covered by a deerskin flap. Opening it, she pointed to the giant bonfire burning in the center of the palisade. Drums were beating, and shouts of revelry echoed across the plain.

“It’s dark already,” he said. “Have we been here that long?”

“The tea alters your perception of time. The celebration has begun and will continue until dawn. I must join Walking Wolf in the main hall for the meeting with important emissaries from other tribes.” He felt her warmth one last time when they embraced. “At the base of the pyramid Beauty awaits. She will lead you back to the pool.”

“Will I ever see you again?” he asked.

“I don’t know what fate holds for us. I do know you are in grave danger, and that I cannot help you.

“One last kiss?”

She kissed him and said, “I hope not. And Buck, wash the paint off before you return to your world.”

Beauty awaited him at the base of the stairs. “I think you and Lady are the only two females who know me,” he said.

A yelp was her acknowledgment that his words were likely true.

She led him through the meandering crowds, and out the door of the palisade. Muted moonlight cast golden ripples on the river. She didn’t stop when they passed Esme’s teepee. As he began washing off the ceremonial paint, she whined and licked his face. He gave her one last hug before wading into the dark water.

Rain began to fall, and then he heard thunder. Closing his eyes, he knew what was coming. It would change him forever, though he knew it wouldn’t heal the pain in his heart.

***

Buck’s head was again pounding when he opened his eyes the next morning. The aroma of brewing coffee caused him to keep them open. The first thing he saw was Thorn smiling at him.

“It’s alive,” she said.

Pard and Maggie were at her side, their tails wagging a mile a minute.

“Something smells good,” he said, ignoring her obvious amusement.

“Hangover food. Homemade biscuits, sausage gravy, hash browns, and sand plum jelly.”

“I didn’t drink anywhere near as much as you,” he said. “Why is it I have a hangover, and you look fresh as a daisy?”

“Genetics, I guess. I’ve never had a problem with hangovers.”

“Lucky you,” he said.

Thorn’s pink nightie caused him to remember his own nakedness. At least a fleece blanket covered him.

“What happened to my clothes?” he asked.

“In the washer,” she said. “There was a storm last night. Thunder and lightning woke me, and I checked on you. You were shivering on the couch, naked and wringing wet. I covered you with a blanket. What were you doing outside in the storm?”

“Walking,” he said. “Sleepwalking, I guess. Hope I didn’t give you too much of a start.”

“I have brothers. I’ve seen naked males since I was old enough to remember. Believe me when I say I wasn’t shocked. What’s that on your face?”

Before he could answer, she rubbed his cheek with a dampened paper towel.

“What?” he said.

“Looks like war paint. What exactly were you doing last night?”

“Guess I drank too many Coors. I do remember meaning to tell you that you are the best dancer I’ve ever had the pleasure to two-step with.”

“You’re pretty good yourself. Every female in the place had their eyes on you. Why do you feel so bad? You drank nothing but Coors and a glass of wine.”

“Lightweight, I guess. I could use a cup of that wonderful coffee I smell.”

“What about biscuits and gravy?”

“Twist my arm,” he said.

Pulling the blanket around his waist, he followed her into the kitchen. He had a hard time keeping his eyes off her athletic body the nightie did little to hide. She didn’t seem to mind when she saw him looking.

“I met your boyfriend last night,” he said. “Didn’t realize you are dating the crown prince of New Orleans.”

“He’s a jerk,” she said. “I told him to take a hike.”

“Sure about that?”

She turned away from the skillet, stood on her tiptoes, and planted a sultry kiss square on his lips.

“Proof enough for you?”

“I could use more evidence.”

“Not gonna happen,” she said. “Today is the summer solstice, one of our biggest tourist draws of the year. I’m conducting tours until well after dark.”

“But it’s Saturday. You shouldn’t have to work on the weekend.”

“Why not? You are. Besides, we can’t choose which day the summer solstice falls on. I have to work, and that’s that.”

“Damn!” he said. “If that’s the case, I may have to spend extra time in the shower.”

“Whoa!” she said. “Too much information.”

“Sorry about that. If you throw a robe over that pretty nightie of yours, I’d be able to think a little straighter.”

“My nightie? What about what’s beneath it?”

“Fancy wrapping always enhances the package,” he said.

She was grinning when she said, “You never give up, do you?” She returned from her bedroom with a tattered terry cloth robe wrapped around her. “This make it any easier for you?”

“Not working. My imagination just kicked in.”

She gave his cheek a playful slap. “Have some eggs and biscuits and try to calm yourself.”

Buck’s thoughts of sex waned as he dug into breakfast. Thorn poured him a large glass of tomato juice, doctoring it with salt, pepper, and Tabasco Sauce. After sopping up the last bite of gooey egg yolk, he felt almost human again. Thorn’s old robe had cracked open a bit, highlighting her tanned bosom.

“If you quit staring at my tits, I’ll tell you something,” she said.

“I’m all ears,” he said.

“And eyes. I feel like a hunk of meat in a cage with a starving tiger.”

“T-bone, rare,” he said. “My favorite.”

“Get your mind off sex, at least for a moment. Please?”

“I’m having a hard time.”

She shook her head and covered her face to keep from laughing aloud.

“I had a friend check out the license tag BladeRunner-1.”

“And?”

“A corporation named Forbidden Treasures owns the vehicle.”

“Any idea who was the regular driver of the car?”

Thorn nodded. “Someone named Haskel Doonkeen.”

“What’s his position with Forbidden Treasures?”

“Don’t know,” she said. “They have a website and sell antiquities from all over. There isn’t much corporate information on the site.”

“Indian antiquities?”

She nodded again. “Nothing illegal, at least as far as I can tell. Still . . .”

“What?”

“The site advertises that almost any antiquity is available for a price.”

“How can they do that?”

“There are hoops to jump through if you want something specific. From what I saw, the corporation is highly secretive.”

Thorn was cleaning the table when her house phone rang. She returned to the sink looking distressed.

“What’s up?” Buck asked.

“Someone broke into the museum last night.”

“A robbery?”

She nodded. “As best as we can tell, there’s only one object missing.”

“The Black Cup?”

“How did you know?” she asked.

“It’s the most sacred object the Mississippians possessed. They used it in religious ceremonies. It was like their Holy Grail.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“Research.”

“I’ve never seen an article stating the religious value of the Black Cup.”

“The thief knows about it.”

“Then he must be psychic,” she said. “The police told one of our staff members they found little evidence.”

“How did the thief get in? I don’t recall seeing any windows and few doors. Did they say how they entered the museum?”

“That’s what’s so strange,” she said. “There was no evidence of a break-in. The alarm was still set when Valene opened this morning.”

“Then how did she know there was a theft?”

“She found a broken pot on the floor. When she began picking up shards, she noticed the door to the cabinet where we had the Black Cup was open.”

“Sounds like an inside job to me,” Buck said.

“No way.”

“Then how did they get inside without tripping the alarm?”

“All our employees are trustworthy. I’ll vouch for it.”

“Did you know Haskel Doonkeen is an associate of Ezekiel Big Shoe?”

“You’re kidding,” she said.

“I’m not. He’s staying at the lodge. Big Shoe introduced him to me.”

“Tell me again what you’re doing at the lodge.”

“Ever seen the cable network reality series, Cryptid Hunter?”

“Who hasn’t?”

“Jake Huntington, Mr. Cryptid Hunter himself, is at the lodge. My boss, Clayton O’Meara, is a friend of his.”

“What’s Bigfoot got to do with Indian artifacts?”

“I’d be ahead of the game if I knew the answer,” he said. “Clayton will be there this weekend. He’ll ask me that same question.”

“Mind if I change the subject to something a bit more pleasant?”

“I’d love it,” he said.

“After the last tour tonight, I’ll be off for the rest of the weekend,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. “I’ve never stayed at Sunset Lodge. What’s a girl have to do to get an invite?”

 

 

 

Chapter 15

 

 

Buck was both angry and excited after leaving Thorn’s little ranch and heading back to Sunset Lodge. Angry he’d failed on his promise to Esme and Walking Wolf to protect the Black Cup. Excited about spending the rest of the weekend with Thorn.

“The last tour is a lecture on the astronomical significance of the mounds. It doesn’t end until well after dark. I’ll need to return home to shower and change clothes. It might be after midnight before I get to the lodge.”

“You’re welcome no matter what time you arrive. I’ll be waiting with a bottle of champagne,” he’d said.

Buck fretted about Thorn and the theft of the Black Cup all the way to Sunset Lodge. When he arrived, he took Lady to the stable, handing her reins to a groom.

“I’ll take care of her,” he said.

The stable keeper, a man whose nametag said Gus, joined him as the groom led Lady to a stall.

“You have quite an operation here,” Buck said.

Like every other employee of the lodge, Gus was an American Indian.

“Mr. Big Shoe won’t settle for anything less,” he said.

A couple of horses, munching hay from a round bale, were in the big stock pen next to the barn. A large mule was with them.

“You have a mule?”

“Not by choice,” Gus said. “We got him thinking he would keep the coyotes and wolves away. Ain’t none up here, so we don’t need him.”

“He for sale?”

“For the past year.”

“What do you want for him?”

“How much you got?” Gus said.

Buck counted out four twenties. “Sixty bucks and a twenty for your trouble.”

“That’ll work.”

“Can you keep him till I’m ready?”

“You bet,” Gus said, stuffing the money into the pocket of his western shirt. “He’s yours. Take him anytime you want.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ain’t got one,” Gus said.

“I’ll pick him up in a day or so. Entering the barn, he found Lady’s stall and patted her neck. He wanted to talk with Don Boone, though he doubted he’d be around on a Saturday. He was wrong.

Don was working at his laptop, Hamlet, the black cat on his lap. He glanced up when Buck opened the door.

“Glad to see you,” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d gone back to Oklahoma City and forgotten about me.”

“No way. I spent the night in Spiro. Looks like you got a new friend.”

“He’s a cutie,” Don said. “I got him a litter box, kitty bed and plenty of food at the lodge’s general store.”

“Good man,” Buck said.

Don didn’t quiz him about why he’d spent the night away from the lodge, and Buck offered no explanation. Hamlet jumped out of Don’s lap to greet Pard. The two soon disappeared into the kitchen together. Don grinned as he watched them go.

“That little cat has the energy I wish I had,” he said. “I managed to dig up quite a bit of info while you were gone. Got time?”

“All the time in the world,” Buck said. “Let me fill Pard’s water bowl, and I’ll be right back. Don pulled a comfortable chair in front of his makeshift desk. Buck sat in it when he returned from the kitchen. “Yellow Paint Woman was right. They’re thick as thieves and sharing water out of the same bowl. Now, tell me what you found.”

“Like you said, Haskel Doonkeen was a sniper in the army. What he didn’t tell you is that he didn’t receive an honorable discharge.”

“That so?”

“Doonkeen’s discharge was for medical reasons; in his case, mental.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Buck said. “Any specifics?”

“One of my buds got me the report. Seems he’s an extreme sociopath. A possible menace to other people.”

Pard wandered back into the room and sat on the floor beside him. Buck rubbed his head.

“That doesn’t surprise me either.”

“His release has requirements. He meets with a psychiatrist at the VA hospital in Muskogee once a week. When I called the doctor, he tight-holed me.”

“We know as much as he does about Doonkeen. What else?”

“He was involved in criminal activity during his last tour in Afghanistan.”

“Such as?” Buck asked.

“Smuggling. He worked with an organized group running everything from opium to stolen antiquities. Army investigators didn’t have enough evidence to convict him. They used his mental health to wash him out of the service. Stolen antiquities ties in with what he’s doing now.”

“Forbidden Treasures?” Buck said.

“You’re a step ahead of me,” Don said.

“Thorn Little Deer, the archaeologist I know, checked the tag with the Caddo Nation. The corporation owns his Corvette.”

“And the truck that ran the old man off the road.”

“Then maybe we can tie Pascal LeFlore’s death with Blade and get him convicted of murder,” Buck said.

“Don’t think so. According to reports, someone stole the truck and wrecked it. The thief got away on foot.”

“Does Doonkeen have an alibi?”

Don nodded. “He was here at the lodge with Mr. Big Shoe.”

“Fits in with what I saw last night,” Buck said. “Big Shoe and Blade drive identical Corvettes.”

“Then he’s likely connected to Forbidden Treasures.”

“Looks like it,” Buck said. “Big Shoe introduced him to Jake Huntington as a hunting and fishing guide. Know anything about that?”

“I found nothing that suggests he’s a guide.”

“They concocted the story?”

“Looks like it.”

“But why?”

“So Cryptid Hunter will take him on the expedition.”

Buck let that bit of information digest for a moment. “It’s way past lunch. You hungry?”

“I brought an apple from home.”

“Save it. Let’s check out the lunch specials at the lodge. We’ll talk more about Blade while we’re eating.”

“Twist my arm,” Don said.

Pard wagged his tail and barked when Buck said, “Guard the cabin while we’re gone, big boy.”

The weather was mild, temperature in the eighties. A gentle breeze rustled the needles of the stately pines surrounding the lodge. Semis filled the auxiliary parking lot, some coming, others going.

Film crews from several networks had cameras running, reporters with microphones conducting interviews. Jake Huntington, dressed in starched camouflage fatigues was in the thick of things. Rimless glasses perched atop his snowy white hair like a tiara. He waved when he saw Buck.

“Missed you last night. They had a hell of a party at the swimming pool on the roof. Colley got drunk and threw a reporter into the water.”

“Was there a fight?”

“Hardly. The reporter was female. She ended up in bed with him before the night was over.”

Buck grinned. “Jake, this is Don Boone. He works for Clayton. He’s helping me here at the lodge.”

Using some secret fraternity grip, Jake shook his hand. “How do you like working for my best friend?”

“Just started yesterday. Haven’t met Mr. O’Meara yet, though I already know he’s a first-class individual.”

“That he is,” Jake said. “He’s on his way here.”

“You have quite an operation going,” Buck said. “You sure we’re gonna need all this equipment?”

“Better safe than sorry. Blade says we’ll need every pound of it to complete our project. He could be right.”

“Join us for lunch?” Buck asked.

“Still got work to do. Where are you eating?”

“Don’t know. Someplace in the lodge.”

“Sit on the deck at the Bistro. It’s on the second floor and faces north. The view is spectacular, and they have the best Reuben you ever sank your teeth into.”

“We’ll give it a try,” Buck said.

“When Clayton arrives, I’ll send him to join you.”

They waved and headed to the Bistro. “Wow,” Don said. “I had everything I could do to keep from asking for his autograph. The boys will never believe I met the Cryptid Hunter.”

“Speaking of whom, what does your family think of your new job, and your new truck?”

“They’re thrilled. I can’t tell you how close the wolf was to our door.”

“Don’t have to,” Buck said. “Been there myself more than once.”

The outside deck at the Bistro Bar and Grill was everything Jake had said, and more. A fine mist of water coming from a rubber hose with tiny nozzles lowered the temperature on the muggy day.

Buck felt comfortable beneath the gaudy red umbrella blocking the sun from their table. And, like Jake had said, the view of the valley was spectacular. They could see the interstate many miles to the north. Cars, trucks, and semis looking no bigger than tiny insects traversed the highway.

“It’s beautiful,” Don said. “Wish I could bring Josie and show her.”

“Why not? You’re making plenty of money now, and I’m sure Clayton will give you the company discount.”

“You think?” Don said.

“It would be a great chance for your boys to meet Cryptid Hunter in person.”

“Booked solid is my guess.”

“There were people checking out when we came through the lobby. Go see. I’ll wait for you.”

Don returned to the table with an ear-to-ear smile. “They had a balcony suite on the third floor. I called Josie. She and the boys are packing for the weekend.”

“What are your boys’ names?”

“Don Jr. and Doug.”

“They’ll love this place. Soon as you meet Clayton, take the rest of the weekend off, and go get your family.”

Though vehicles crowded Interstate-40 in the valley below, there was no such hustle and bustle at the restaurant. A lone hawk circled high above them as they finished eating.

“Something about Blade you haven’t told me?” Don said.

“You’re good,” Buck said. “The Black Cup the old man in the pickup gave me. Someone stole it last night from the Spiro Museum.”

“Blade?”

Buck nodded. “Bet it’s in his room here at the lodge.”

“Sitting on his coffee table.”

“You’re reading my mind.”

“I’m pretty good at nosing around places where I’m not supposed to be,” Don said. “Want me to retrieve it for you?”

“Enjoy your family this weekend. I’ll get the Black Cup.”

Clayton came strolling across the deck, his constant smile spread across his face. In starched jeans, snakeskin boots and a pink Hawaiian shirt, he had everyone’s attention. Don stood to introduce himself.

“Glad to meet you,” Clayton said. “Buck here has told me all about you. Welcome aboard. Anything I left out of your employment package?”

“No sir,” he said.

“Don lives in the valley,” Buck said. “I talked him into staying at the lodge for the weekend with his wife and two sons.”

“Take your boys horseback riding. They’ll love it, and I want to meet them and your little lady before the weekend is over,” Clayton said.

With introductions complete, Don departed to get his family. Clayton settled into his chair, soon sipping whiskey provided by a pretty waitress.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Didn’t you see all the commotion in the parking lot?”

“I did. There’s enough gear and equipment down there for an attempt at Mount Everest. What else?”

“You remember me telling you the man that ran the old Indian off the road was staying here at the lodge?”

“Yeah.”

“His name is Haskel Doonkeen. Turns out, he’s close friends with Ezekiel Big Shoe.”

Clayton sipped his whiskey and said, “I’m listening.”

“Thanks to Big Shoe, Haskel Doonkeen has Jake’s ear, and is helping him plan the expedition.”

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Don’t know yet,” Buck said.

Clayton’s smile disappeared. He slugged his drink and motioned a passing waiter to bring him another.

“What’s Big Shoe got to do with all this?”

“Wish I knew.”

“Jake’s chopper pilot is on his way to Guthrie to pick up KK, Lana, and Sara. They were shopping in Dallas when I left the ranch. What else?”

“Doonkeen’s nickname is Blade. He earned it by being an army sniper that scalped his victims and carried the trophies on his waist.”

“Sounds like a crazy man,” Clayton said.

“According to a psychiatric report Don dug up, he’s a sociopath and not a psychopath. I’m not sure there’s much of a distinction. He threw his knife at Colley the first night we met him and missed his ear by about an inch.”

“Good God!” Clayton said. “I better talk with Big Shoe.”

Buck shook his head. “Don’t do it.”

“Because?”

“I’m working on their connection and don’t want to tip them off.”

“Whatever you say. You think it’s safe here for the girls?”

“Big Shoe seems to have Blade’s ear. I don’t think he would hurt his associate’s employer and family. I have to do something a little dirty later on tonight and I need you to have my back in case I get caught.”

“Damn, Buck, I’m gonna have to get that pretty little waitress to bring me the whole bottle of whiskey. What now?”

“Someone broke into the Spiro Museum last night and stole the Black Cup. I’m pretty sure it was Blade, and that the relic is in his room. I need to know which room he’s in.”

Clayton checked an app on his cell phone. “Try 218,” he said. “How do you plan to get in?”

“Haven’t figured it out just yet,” Buck said.

“Big Shoe has a master passkey to every room at the lodge. He keeps it with him.”

“Then how am I supposed to get it?”

“We’re having a party at our cabin later tonight. Big Shoe and his latest squeeze will be there. If I know KK and Lana, we’ll soon be skinny dipping in the spa. Big Shoe will be drunk and his clothes in the outside dressing room.”

“Clayton, you have larceny in your heart,” Buck said. “Now, if I could just figure out how to keep Blade away from his room for awhile.”

“He’s Indian, ain’t he? Get him a bottle of whiskey. Never seen an Indian yet that could hold his liquor.”

“Clayton, that’s politically incorrect in so many ways. I’m a third Cherokee. I can hold my liquor just fine.”

“Maybe not politically correct, though still pretty much true. I’ll find out where he hangs out and make sure his well doesn’t go dry.”

“How you gonna do that?” Buck asked.

“I know all the waiters and waitresses. Not only am I their boss, I’m also the best tipper on the planet. Just let me take care of this. When he passes out, I’ll call you.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“I’ll make sure he does.”

Buck could only shake his head. “Clayton, you missed your calling. You should have been a politician.”

“Always glad to help,” he said.

 

 

 

Chapter 16

 

 

Clayton was talking on his cell phone when Jake Huntington joined them. Though he’d been in the sun for several hours, he looked as fresh as if he’d just come from a nap and a shower.

“Clay lives with that phone plugged in his ear,” he said.

“Got that right,” Buck said. “Need a drink?”

“In the worst way,” he said.

The shift in the bar had changed. Kristen, Big Shoes’ squeeze had taken over as their waitress. Khaki shorts highlighted her long legs. The undone buttons of her gingham blouse revealed much of her black lacy bra. Jake and Buck didn’t seem to mind.

“What are you having, handsome?” she asked.

“Bombay Gin and Fentimans Tonic Water, if you have it,” he said.

“Sweet thing, like I told you the first time we met, we got most everything behind that big oak bar. I already know what you want, good looking,” she said to Buck.

“Bet you do,” he said. “Since I can’t have it, I’ll make do with another Coors.”

The exchange went over Jake’s head, though Kristen was smiling as she returned to the bar. Finished with his phone conversation, Clayton joined them.

“What’s wrong, Clay? You’re not smiling.” Jake said.

Clayton’s grin returned. “Hell, Jake, I’m not rich and famous as you. Some of us got to work for a living.”

“If I had your money, I’d burn mine.”

“Then let’s trade and see who comes out the best,” Clayton said.

Jake glanced at Buck with a shake of his head. “I’ve known this man for twenty years, and I’ve never once got the better of him in a conversation.”

“And you never will, little brother,” Clayton said.

“How long have you known each other?” Buck asked.

“We met when I finished my master’s degree from Duke. Dad knew Clayton and got me a job with his company to learn the ropes.”

“His plan must have worked,” Buck said.

“I learned more in five years about whores, smoky bars, and the dark side of the oil business than most people do in a lifetime.”

“You bragging or complaining?” Clayton asked.

“I’m not complaining, although I’d like to have some of those brain cells back we sent up in smoke.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch!” Clayton said. “Remember those two little strippers we picked up in the Scorpio?”

“How could I forget it? It wasn’t all I picked up that night. I thought my whanger was going to fall off.”

“There you go again, thinking only of the negative.”

“Clay saved my life on more than one occasion,” Jake said. “Problem is, if he hadn’t got us into one awful situation after another, he wouldn’t have had to.”

“I don’t see any missing body parts,” Clayton said.

“I had a hell of a time. What’s happening, big brother?”

“Rent, taxes, and world-class women.”

“You came all this way just to check on me?”

“And to have a hell of a good time,” Clayton said. “Excitement and beautiful women seem to follow you around.”

“I learned it from the master.”

“When’s that pilot of yours going to get here with my wife and girlfriends?”

Jake had to smirk. “Maybe never if they’re as gorgeous as I suspect they are. Colley Hornbeck is the definition of womanizer.”

“Hope he’s a real man. Otherwise, he’ll have trouble handling those three. Ain’t I right, Buck?”

“Yessir, you sure are,” he said.

“Buck and KK used to be a number,” Clayton said.

“Your wife?” Jake asked.

“The woman I live with. Lana’s my wife, and she lives with Sara over at the pagan compound.”

When Jake looked at Buck for an explanation, he said, “Don’t ask.”

“I take it all three of these women are gorgeous beyond belief,” Jake said.

“Lana’s a red-headed Amazon with an ass-kicking body and a brain to match. Sara’s dazzling and more than a tad jealous. KK is every man’s wet dream.”

Kristen caught the last of the conversation as she appeared with fresh drinks. Plopping in Clayton’s lap, she grabbed his head, squeezing his face into her breasts.

“Is she sexier than me?” she asked.

“Baby,” he said. “You’re gonna be my wet dream if you wiggle that sweet ass of yours one more time.”

Knowing they were watching her every move, she strutted back to the bar.

“Damn, Clayton, you still got it,” Jake said.

“Yeah, and I may have to go change my boxer shorts.”

An hour passed, Jake and Clayton exchanging stories as Buck listened. The windows behind them rattled as a chopper landed outside in the parking lot. Clayton glanced at his Rolex.

“That your chopper?” he asked.

“Sounds like it,” Jake said.

“Then I better go rescue the girls before that whore dog pilot of yours convinces them otherwise.”

“Bring them down. I’d love to meet them.”

“Have to head over to the cabin and get them situated. Then I got to go talk to Big Shoe and get the straight skinny about what’s going on at the lodge. We’re having a party later on tonight at the cabin. It goes without saying that you’re both invited.”

“Where’s your cabin?” Buck asked.

“A hundred yards south of the one you’re in. Just follow the sound of country music.”

Clayton stopped to exchange pleasantries with Kristen before leaving the bistro. Jake slowly shook his head.

“One of a kind,” he said.

“He is that,” Buck said.

“Now that we’re alone, we need to talk about the expedition.”

“I’m listening.”

“I need to know if you’re onboard.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Buck said.

“What I mean is lots of people think I only do the show for money and fame. That isn’t true. Do you believe Bigfoot is real?”

“People I trust claim to have seen it,” Buck said. “I have no reason to doubt them.”

“But do you believe it?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know a fraction of what you do on the subject. Maybe you can enlighten me.”

Jake nodded. “I’ve been on Bigfoot’s trail for going on two decades. I got a fleeting glimpse of one in Idaho a few years back, but it’s the closest I’ve come. I don’t just believe they’re real. I know they are.”

“Tell me,” Buck said.

“In the last fifty years, there have been more than five thousand quality sightings.”

“I’m an ex-cop,” Buck said. “Eyewitness accounts are usually unreliable.”

“What’s your point?” Jake asked.

“If there’s a Bigfoot out there, then why hasn’t someone credible photographed it?”

“Pandas weren’t discovered until 1869. No one knew about them because they lived in a jungle away from humans.”

“There isn’t such a place in the United States,” Buck said.

“Yes there is. Over twenty-five percent of this country has never been foot surveyed. Why? Because it’s too wild,” he said, answering his own question.

“You mean like the mountains in southeast Oklahoma?”

“Exactly,” Jake said.

“Then where did these creatures come from?”

“My personal opinion is that they’re hominids descended from Neanderthals.”

“Aren’t they extinct?”

“Perhaps not. Europeans and Asians have Neanderthal DNA. Neanderthals were sturdier and likely hairier than Homo sapiens. Maybe they crossed the Bering Strait to the New World first.”

“But did they have feet like a Bigfoot?” Buck asked.

“There are caves in France with lots of Neanderthal bones. We know what they looked like. Their feet were bigger and flatter, and their heads much larger. Researchers have found many suspected Bigfoot prints.”

“Most of the photos I’ve seen look like fakes,” Buck said.

“I’ve studied many of the pictures with a magnifying glass. Some are faked, though others have dermal ridges.”

“Pardon me?”

“Like fingerprints on articulating feet; something impossible to fake. The bottom line is, I’m convinced Bigfoot is real, and I’m determined to find one to prove I’m right. Let me show you something.”

Jake retrieved a folded topographic map from one of the big pockets of his camo safari jacket. After unfolding it on the table in front of Buck, he pointed to an X marked in red.

“The place you’re expecting to find Bigfoot?”

“Ezekiel Big Shoe tipped me off about this valley and his man Blade. Take a look,” he said, pushing the map closer to Buck.

The contours pictured a mountain range. The place to where Jake pointed was in a valley deeply incised between two steep ridges, the color green indicating forestation. No roads or trails appeared on the map.

“This is a box canyon not far from here in the Ouachita National Forest. It’s where Blade says we’ll find Bigfoot. There’s one strong reason why I believe he’s not just blowing smoke.”

“And that is?” Buck asked.

“Limestone comprises this valley, according to the state stratigraphy map.”

“Which means?”

“Most large caverns form in limestone formations. My guess is there are many caves in this valley. Like where they found Neanderthal remains in France. This would be a perfect place for Bigfoot to live. Are you buying my hypothesis?”

“Sounds logical to me,” Buck said. “Does Blade know about the caves, or does he have other reasons for choosing this canyon?”

“That, I don’t know,” Jake said.

“What about Yellow Paint Woman’s assessment?”

“I’ll keep an eye on Blade. He’s not killing anyone or anything without my permission.”

“Good,” Buck said.

“Then tell me, are you in or out?”

“All in. I want to be there when you find Bigfoot, and I think you’re going to.”

Jake reached across the table and shook his hand.

“We’ll surely find a footprint. I’m counting on you to verify if it’s real or fake.”

“Any footprint we find will be real because no one’s ever been there to plant a fake.”

“You don’t like Blade, do you?”

“No sir, I don’t,” Buck said.

“Because of your fight in the locker room?”

“My dislike for Blade has nothing to do with this expedition. I’m confident he can lead us to a location favorable for finding Bigfoot.”

“He seems like a dangerous man.”

“Yes he is.”

“I can only trust Ezekiel Big Shoe’s judgment. I’ve known him for many years. His son is the quarterback for the New Orleans Saints.”

“Met him last night,” Buck said. “He’s one big dude for a quarterback.”

“And has an arm like a rifle,” Jake said.

“You sound like a Saints fan.”

Jake nodded. “I love New Orleans. When I finish this expedition, I’m going to check out the Manchac Swamp near there. Lots of reports of swamp monsters.”

Buck grinned. “And those coonasses down there never lie.”

“You’re right about that. Doesn’t matter because it gives me an excuse to spend time in my favorite city. Ever been there?”

“I spent a memorable Mardi Gras in New Orleans several years ago, and have meant to return ever since.”

“Let’s get this one under our belts, and I’ll take you with me,” Jake said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Buck said. “Right now, I need to tab out. My new girlfriend’s coming up tonight to spend the rest of the weekend with me.”

Kristen walked up behind them and heard Buck’s comment.

“You got a girlfriend?” she said. “I’m crushed. I thought I had you all to myself.”

Buck gazed into her dark eyes. “Something tells me you’re pulling my leg,” he said.

“Who, me?” she said, touching her chest with both hands.

“Go ahead and pull,” he said. “I like it.”

Kristen grabbed the back of his head and rubbed her breasts in his face.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” she said.

“I won’t be far away. You hot tubbing with Ezekiel tonight?”

“If his wife don’t show up,” she said. “She does her best to keep him on a short leash.”

“I think she’s failing. Ezekiel’s a little old for you. Why aren’t you going after his son? He’s single, good looking and wealthy.”

“And has more women chasing after him than you can shake a stick at. He’s hot, and he knows it.”

“Someone’s gonna snag him. Why not you?”

“Maybe I like you better,” she said.

“I’m calling bullshit on that one,” he said. “Gotta go. I better clear my tab.”

She plopped in his lap, put her arms around his neck, and licked his eyelid.

“On the house,” she said. “Clayton said to give you anything you want.”

“I’m calling bullshit on that one, too,” he said.

 

 

 

Chapter 17

 

 

Darkness cloaked the mountain, Hamlet asleep beside him and Pard licking his face when he awoke from his nap. As he dragged himself off the couch, he realized his visit with Esme had zapped him more than he’d realized.

Pard wagged his tail and barked when he said, “Hungry?”

There were two bowls in the kitchen and Buck filled both. Hamlet was a fussy eater. After sniffing the contents of his bowl, he jumped on the couch, curled up, and closed his eyes. Pard wasn’t as particular.

When he finished eating, he and Buck walked one of the dim trails down the mountain from the lodge. Stopping on a scenic overlook, he tossed a rock over the ledge. He didn’t hear it land.

Lady was asleep in her stall, and Pard waited as Buck retrieved a lariat from the tack room of his hauler. The night was warm, an owl hooting in the distance. Stars filled a clear sky saturated with the aroma of crushed pine straw.

They returned to the cabin, Buck’s cell phone ringing when he stepped from the shower. It was Clayton, sounds of laughter and loud music echoing in the background.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” Buck said.

“You’re in luck. Blade hangs out in one of the second-floor bars. He drinks Stoli. We’re mixing his vodka with 190-proof Everclear. His eyes are drooping.”

“You are devious,” Buck said. “Now, if I can just get my hands on that passkey.”

“The party’s just getting cranked up over here. Big Shoe is in the hot tub with that pretty, little waitress. His clothes are hanging in the dressing room.”

“Then I’ll drop by and borrow his keys,” Buck said.

“You’ll have no trouble. Big Shoe is drunk as a skunk.”

“From the music and laughter, I’d say he isn’t the only one.”

“You’d be right about that. I got a half dozen women tossing lime and lemon slices at me.”

“Damn!” Buck said. “Must be a giant spa.”

“Plenty of room for ten acquaintances, or twenty close friends,” Clayton said.

“Take your word for it. See you in a bit. Pard, guard the cabin,” he said. “I’ve got work to do.”

When he opened the front door, he found Thorn standing there, a red plastic cup in her hand and a silly smile on her face.

“I made it,” she said.

He pulled her into the cabin, spinning her around to get a look at her outfit. A deerskin miniskirt highlighted her tanned legs and cowboy boots. She’d plaited her dark hair and had woven a hawk’s feather into one of the braids. A turquoise necklace draped over the open top button of her silk blouse. When she kissed him, he could smell alcohol on her breath.

She beamed when he said, “You’re the most beautiful woman in Oklahoma.”

“You’re a liar,” she said. “But I like hearing it anyway. Sorry I’m so late.”

“It’s after midnight,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter to me. I’m ready to party.”

“I gotta take care of a little business first. Why don’t you just rest on the couch till I get back?”

“Monkey business, maybe. There’s nothing you need to do at midnight that can’t wait until Monday.”

“Yes, there is. Promise I won’t be long.”

“Whoa, buster! You’re not going anyplace without me. My red cup needs a refill, and it’s way too early to go to sleep.”

Buck thought about the situation. He didn’t want to take her to a wild party with a bunch of naked crazies. If he didn’t, he’d have no chance of retrieving the Black Cup. He led her outside and locked the door behind them.

“I hear country music,” she said. “Want to dance?”

Buck twirled her once and then tugged her hand. “My boss is hosting a party. It’s gonna be wild, and I hate taking you there.”

“I love wild parties,” she said, pulling him toward the sound of music and laughter.

Buck clasped her hand. “I have to warn you first. Your boyfriend Zeke’s daddy is at the party. He’s naked and in a spa with a woman other than his wife.”

Thorn cocked her head and gave Buck a look. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope,” he said. “And everyone there is likely naked.”

“Good. That makes me want to go even more,” she said.

Buck wasn’t happy as he led her out the door. A six-foot fence surrounded Clayton’s cabin that was bigger than the one Buck occupied. Clayton’s was an A-frame that reminded him of ski chalets he’d seen in the Rockies. They entered the yard through an open gate.

A wooden deck began at the stairs leading into the chalet, tiki torches lighting it. Clayton was sitting at a patio table, smoking a big cigar as he sipped his whiskey. Everyone else was in a circular spa inset in the deck.

Fingers of steam wafted up from the spa along with loud laughter and conversation. Someone had turned down the country music to a mild roar. Thorn’s expression began to beam as Buck led her to Clayton’s table.

“Clay, this is Thorn Little Tree. I need to do what we talked about earlier. Can you watch her for me?”

“Hi, Clay,” she said, shaking his hand. “Despite what Buck thinks, I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.”

“Bet you can,” Clayton said.

“Come on, Buck. Let’s get in,” she said. “I love hot tubs.”

“There’s something I have to do and it can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Clayton? Can it wait?”

Clayton shook his head. “Just checked with my contact. It’s now or never.”

“Gotta go, baby. I’ll be right back.”

“Fine,” Thorn said, shedding her clothes as she walked toward the steamy spa.

Clayton pointed toward the changing room. “Quite a looker you got there. I’ll try and keep an eye on her.”

“Thanks,” Buck said.

Wolf whistles and rude comments sounded behind him as he entered the changing room. Everyone’s clothes were hanging on a rack, and it took him a minute to locate Big Shoe’s. He had no trouble lifting the wallet and borrowing the master passkey to the lodge. Stopping at his cabin, he patted Pard and grabbed his lariat.

In the hallway outside Blade’s room, he waited as a drunken reporter fumbled with his drink and electronic passkey. When he stumbled inside, Buck opened Blade’s door and entered.

The room was dark except for the ambient light shining through the open curtain leading to a tiny deck. Using the flashlight on his keychain, he surveilled the room. The door to the bedroom was ajar. He peeked inside, wondering if Blade was already there and passed out on the bed. He wasn’t.

When he was sure he was alone, he began searching the room for the Black Cup. He found a small package addressed to an office in McAlester. Since it was about the size and weight of the Black Cup, he decided to open it.

Cutting the tape with care, he removed an object wrapped in tissue and bubble wrap. It was the Black Cup. Searching the coffee table, he found a dirty ashtray about the same size and weight. Without bothering to dump the butts, he stuffed it in the box. Something across the room caught his eye.

It was a copier, a sheet of paper protruding from the cover. Buck opened it, his find something he hadn’t anticipated. Two more sheets of paper lay by the printer. Putting all three into the feeder, he pressed the start button.

The cheap printer was noisy and seemed to take forever to copy the sheets. It was still humming when he heard footsteps outside in the hallway. He switched off his flashlight as someone stuck a passkey into the entry slot.

Grabbing his copies, he fumbled to return the originals to where he’d found them. He managed to slip out to the deck as Blade stumbled through the door. He was stuffing the sheets into his shirt when he realized he’d left the Black Cup by the copier.

Blade staggered to a little refrigerator, groping inside for a bottle of pink bismuth. After fumbling to open the bottle’s childproof top, he chugged most of the contents.

Pink liquid dribbled down his chin and shirt as he belched. Squatting behind a large potted plant, Buck saw him stumble to the couch. For a long moment, he just sat there, Buck wondering if he was going to have to hit him on the head and knock him out. It was something he didn’t want to do.

The patio door was ajar, and he soon heard the sound of a loud snort. Blade, it seemed, had fallen asleep sitting up. As quietly as he could manage in his boots, he opened the door a crack and slipped inside. When he did, Blade opened his eyes and wheeled around.

Buck hugged the wall and froze, bending at the knees to become less visible. Blade either didn’t see him or else was too drunk and sleepy to realize someone was in his room. His head drooped, and he again began to snore.

While the patio door was less than six feet from the copier, it took him several minutes to reach it. When he did, he bumped the Black Cup with the back of his hand. Grabbing it before it hit the floor, he hurriedly returned to the patio.

Blade’s room was on the second floor, too high to jump. Tying his lariat around the post of the cast iron railing, he vaulted over it, climbing to the ground. He released the noose from the post in time to step into the shadows as Blade stuck his head out the door. Seeing nothing, he went back inside, shutting the sliding door with a thud.

Buck’s heart continued to race as he stood in the darkness. The adrenaline rush that had helped him survive had begun to dissipate, leaving him with a headache. Grasping the Black Cup, he gazed at it, making sure it wasn’t a dream.

With any luck, Blade would mail the dirty ashtray without checking it first. McAlester wasn’t far away. The package could reach its destination as early as tomorrow. When it did, he would become Blade’s number one suspect.

He bypassed his cabin on the way to Clayton’s, not daring to leave the cup there. Someone was at the party that would know how to safeguard it. That person wasn’t Clayton.

 

 

 

Chapter 18

 

 

The party was going strong when Buck reached Clayton’s cabin. A noisy commotion began as he returned the passkey to Big Shoe’s wallet. Curious about the uproar, he peeked out the door.

Steam wisped up from the empty spa, everyone standing in a semicircle as Thorn and her former boyfriend Zeke Big Shoe shouted insults at each other. Dressed in jeans and Saints jersey, Zeke wagged an angry finger at naked and defiant Thorn. White terrycloth robes draped Clayton and the others.

Damp hair clung to Thorn’s bare shoulders. Beads of water dripped between her bare breasts as she glared at Zeke. Colley Hornbeck had his arms around an attractive woman whose blond hair was as wet as Thorn’s. Buck recognized her as Candice Jacobs, a popular reporter for one of the cable stations. Ezekiel Big Shoe stood behind his son. Kristen, her arms crossed, had taken over Clayton’s place at the patio table.

“I’m sorry I ever gave you the time of day,” Zeke said.

Thorn was quick to respond. “And I’m sorry I wasted two years of my life waiting for an alley cat like you.”

“If I’m an alley cat, then you’re a slut,” he said.

“Take that back,” she said.

“Fuck you!” he said.

His words were more than Thorn could take. Lunging at him, she scratched red marks into his face with her fingernails. Zeke pushed her away, and into the spa. She landed with a splash as Jake Huntington came strolling through the gate. Rushing to help, he threw a punch.

Zeke grabbed his wrist and backhanded him, sending his glasses careening across the patio. Not finished, he wheeled him around, shoving him into the hot water with Thorn. Kristen grabbed Ezekiel’s arm.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” she said.

Big Shoe wheeled his son around. “You idiot,” he said. “Go with Kristen. Now!”

The big pro quarterback gave his dad a condescending look and then followed Kristen out the gate. Big Shoe turned to Clayton and Lana.

“Sorry, folks,” he said. “The boy’s always been a little headstrong, just like his mother. I can’t control him anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Clayton said. “He put on quite a show.”

Buck was the first person Big Shoe saw when he stormed into the little changing room. Grabbing his clothes, he hurried out the door.

As Buck walked out to the patio, Clayton, Lana and KK were helping Thorn and Jake out of the spa. Sara wrapped a robe around Thorn’s shoulders and led her to the patio table.

“You okay, boss?” Colley asked.

“I’ll live,” Jake said.

“Good because I got to get this little lady to bed. She’s interviewing you tomorrow at seven.”

“I may be a little late,” Jake said.

Sara grabbed his elbow. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” she said.

Country music continued to blare as Buck grabbed Lana and Clayton’s shoulders.

“I need to talk to both of you. Now’s as good a time as any,” he said.

“You sound serious,” Lana said.

“As a heart attack.”

They turned off the music and outside lights, and went inside. Cabin was a misnomer for a structure constructed of massive logs and native stone. Animal skins and woven rugs covered the wooden floors. A chandelier made of antlers hung from the vaulted ceiling. Though unneeded, a crackling fire burned in the massive stone fireplace.

Lana got Buck a beer, and then directed him to a room with a large conference table. She shut the door behind Clayton as he followed them inside. Her makeup had washed off in the spa, long red hair damp and mussed. Didn’t matter because her piercing eyes left Buck weak in the knees.

“What’s up?” she said.

“This,” he said, handing her the Black Cup. “Haskel Doonkeen stole it from the Spiro Archaeological Museum last night. I found it in his room.”

“Who is Haskel Doonkeen, and what the hell were you doing in his room?”

“A thief and a murderer. I was retrieving stolen goods before he had a chance to dispose of it,” he said.

“What stolen goods?”

“The Black Cup of Oklahoma, for one. The object you have in your hand.”

“Maybe you better start from the beginning.”

“Someone is stealing priceless antiquities from all over the state. So far, this is the most valuable relic stolen.”

“Are the police involved?”

“State police and O.S.B.I. Thorn says they’ve made little progress.”

Lana turned the cup in her hand. “What is it?”

“A thousand-year-old Native American artifact, likely the most valuable Mississippian relic in existence.”

“It doesn’t look like much. What makes it so valuable?”

“It was the Holy Grail of the Mississippians.”

“How do you know?”

“Esme told me. I saw her last night.”

Lana backed up a step. “You saw Esme? I thought she was dead.”

“She isn’t.”

“Then where is she?”

“In another place and time,” Buck said.

“You’d better explain.”

“Esme is a time traveler. She lives in a world that precedes us by a thousand years.”

“I find all this hard to believe,” Lana said.

“Then suspend your disbelief. Esme visited Clayton a few nights ago, didn’t she Clay?”

Lana moved her gaze to Clayton, waiting for his explanation.

“Is that true?” she asked.

“Yes, dear. I thought I was dreaming. Now I realize I wasn’t.”

“What did she want?”

“Buck’s help. I sensed she needed me to send him to Spiro,” he said.

“As I said, I’m finding all this hard to believe.”

“I traveled back in time. Esme implored me to stop Doonkeen.”

“Tell me about this Haskel Doonkeen,” she said.

“An associate of Ezekiel Big Shoe. He’s staying at the lodge and is leading Huntington’s Bigfoot expedition. The Army suspected him of dealing in smuggled antiquities. He’s part of a company called Forbidden Treasures. I feel there’s a good possibility Big Shoe is somehow involved.”

”Clayton, are you keeping something from me?” she said.

Clayton poured more whiskey into his tumbler from a bottle at the wet bar in the office.

“Buck wanted to hire a security man for the lodge. Big Shoe refused, threatening to quit and take the entire staff with him. It’s possible Big Shoe is complicit in the thefts of these antiquities.”

“Why didn’t you share this with me?”

“I’m telling you now,” he said.

“What’s the problem?” Buck asked.

“Big Shoe is a minority owner of the lodge,” Lana said.

“Twenty percent,” Clayton said. “Not that minor.”

“Don’t fight,” Buck said. “I need your help.”

“Such as?” Lana asked.

“The Black Cup isn’t safe here at the lodge, or in the museum at Spiro. Do you have a place to keep it for awhile?”

“You already knew the answer, or you wouldn’t have asked,” she said.

Removing an Indian rug from the wooden floor, she lifted up a slat to reveal a hidden safe. Opening its heavy door, she placed the Black Cup inside it.

“It’ll be safe for the moment. I’ll have someone from Lycaia security pick it up tomorrow and transport it back to our bank vault. What else?”

“Don’t tell anyone that I retrieved the Black Cup. Not even Thorn or Jake.”

“You suspect them?”

“I’m not sure what I suspect,” he said. “But I have a hunch. I found something else in Doonkeen’s room.”

Pulling the folded sheets of paper from his shirt, he handed them to Clayton.

“What the hell is it?” he asked.

“A map that was in Doonkeen’s copier and an old article I found beside it. I was wondering what interest he had in going along on Jake’s expedition. The map and this article explain why.”

“Give us a hint?” Lana said.

“Jake showed me a topo map of the area in the mountains Doonkeen intends to take us. The article is from an old science magazine. It discussed a map found in the Prado Museum in Madrid. Some Spanish explorer had learned the location of La Ciudad Perdida del Oro and had drawn a map.”

“Translation?” Clayton said.

“The Lost City of Gold.”

“In eastern Oklahoma?”

“The map in the article looked a lot like what I saw on Jake’s topo. The place we are going is part of the Ouachita National Forest. Jake had to get permission from the feds. Because of Doonkeen’s military record, I’d say he had no chance of ever obtaining permission on his own.”

“This all seems so coincidental,” Lana said.

“Maybe not. Big Shoe contacted Jake about conducting an expedition into the valley. He also touted Blade as the person to lead them.”

“Even if the City of Gold is in the valley, what can anyone do about it?” Lana asked.

“Don’t know,” Buck said.

“What else do you need from us?” she asked.

“Your help in stopping Blade.”

“There are some things you’ll need to get me,” she said.

“Name them,” he said.

“We’ll have to start with what we’ve got. You say the state police and O.S.B.I. are already working on these antiquity thefts?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll need copies of their reports and photos of the stolen property. Any information you can provide me with.”

“Thank you,” Buck said. “I promised Esme I would do my best to shut down this theft ring. I can’t do it on my own.”

“Esme was like my sister,” Lana said. “You can count on me.”

“What about Jake?” Clayton asked.

“Don’t know yet,” Buck said. “I’m not ready to tell him about Blade, though I need to check this article against his map.”

Lana tapped her long red nails on the desk. “Something else is bothering you. I sense it concerns Clayton and me. It’s about Adam, isn’t it?”

Buck lowered his head. “You tricked me into conceiving him with you. You and Clayton promised I would have visitation and that he could spend time with Jim and Carol. None of this has happened.”

Lana clutched his hand. “You’re hurt.”

“Of course I am. Adam is two, and it’s starting to look like I’ll never have the chance to take him fishing, or teach him how to sit a horse.”

“Clayton?” she said. “Did you make promises to Buck?”

He nodded. “Afraid I did. Now, I feel like a number one heel.”

Lana still had Buck’s hand in hers, and she squeezed it. “Adam is my prince. I’ve had a hard time trusting him out of my sight.”

“Lana,” Clayton said, trying to speak.

Lana’s stern glance silenced him. “I’m not finished,” she said. “When I return to Lycaia, Clayton and I will have a talk with Adam. I don’t feel that it’s time yet to tell him you’re his real father, but you will get your visitation. I promise.”

“And Jim and Carol?”

“I see no reason why he can’t spend a week or two with them,” she said. “Will this make things better?”

Buck nodded. “You can’t imagine. Mind if I call Carol and tell her?”

“Knock yourself out,” she said. “It’s late. Let’s convene this meeting and check on the others.”

Aroma of bacon and eggs wafted from the kitchen as they exited the conference room. KK and Sara, dressed in matching pink baby doll nighties, had cooked.

“Comfort food, buffet style with paper plates and plastic forks,” KK said.

“Where’s Thorn and Jake?” Buck asked.

“Jake went to his own room. Thorn was beat. We put her to bed upstairs. Anyone for breakfast?”

“Clayton and I will take ours to go,” Lana said. “We still have lots of work to do.”

“It’s two in the morning,” Sara said. “Can’t it wait?”

“Yeah,” Clayton said.

“We haven’t seen each other in more than a week, and we have important business that can’t wait,” Lana said.

Clayton grumbled as he refreshed his whiskey. He seemed happier after piling his paper plate with scrambled eggs and bacon. Lana made do with grapefruit juice and French toast.

“Poor Clayton,” KK said when the door to the office shut behind them. “That woman can be a real bitch.”

“Try living with her sometimes,” Sara said.

Buck filled his own plate, trying to ignore KK’s skimpy nightie. Her honey-blond hair was still damp from the spa. Sara was shorter than KK and not as curvy. It didn’t mean she was hard to look at. They both knew what effect they had on men. KK laughed when Sara rested her elbows on the table, giving Buck a gaping view of her tiny breasts.

“If you two have nothing better to do than torture me, I’m taking my plate and heading back to my own cabin.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” KK said. “Thorn’s passed out upstairs. There’s no one waiting for you at your cabin.”

“Story of my life,” he said.

“Then spend a little time with KK and me,” Sara said. “We could do more skinny dipping in the spa.”

“And have Lana and Clayton on my case?” he said. “I think not.”

“They aren’t jealous types,” Sara said.

“I’m not taking the chance. Besides, it’s two in the morning.”

“Spoilsport,” KK said.

Buck finished eating, slugged his coffee, gave them both a hug, and then started for the door. He returned, grabbing a biscuit and a couple of slices of bacon for Pard and Hamlet.

 

 

 

Chapter 19

 

 

Buck awoke from a strange dream the next morning with the feeling someone was staring at him. When he opened his eyes, he saw they were.

Thorn stood at the foot of his bed, her arms crossed, and a frown on her pretty face as she stared at him.

“I’m not too happy with you right now. I was anticipating a fun weekend. Instead, you abandoned me with strangers, and I had to depend on another stranger to take up for me.”

“I’m guessing you’re not here to jump in bed with me and have a go at wild sex?”

“In your dreams,” she said. “I started to go home without saying anything. I couldn’t because I was too pissed. Now, you’re just laughing at me.”

Buck wrapped the sheet around him and got out of bed.

“I’m sorry. No one was as excited as me about your visit. I didn’t want to leave you alone. I had no other choice. There was something I needed to do and only one chance to do it.”

Thorn’s arms were still crossed. “Like what?” she said.

“Rescue the Black Cup.”

Her arms dropped to her sides. “You have the Black Cup?”

“It’s in the safe at Clayton’s cabin. Lana’s having someone from Lycaia security pick it up later today. They’ll keep it in the bank safe until we’re able to end this rash of artifact theft.”

“I’m still mad at you,” she said.

“Please don’t be,” he said, venturing a touch to her arm.

When she didn’t move away, he embraced her. “Guess you see why Zeke’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“He’s a jerk and doesn’t deserve an angel like you.”

“An angel with a horrible hangover,” she said with a giggle.

“Thought you didn’t get hangovers.”

“First time for everything.”

Thorn was warm and soft, heat beginning to rise in his loins.

“Sure you won’t change your mind about joining me in bed?”

“Having sex is the last thing I want to do. If you just hold me, I’ll lie with you awhile.”

They lay there, Thorn’s thoughts a million miles away. Buck was thinking about other things he’d already realized weren’t going to happen. Pard and Hamlet joined them on the bed.

“Hey, baby,” Thorn said, hugging the dog with the wagging tail. “Whose cat?”

“Long story. They’re both hungry, and I’m sure Pard needs someone to take him for a walk.”

Hamlet rubbed against her legs when she stroked his back. “Beautiful animal,” she said. “I never took you for a cat person.”

“Yellow Paint Woman gave him to me. If I mistreat him, she might cause one of my body parts to fall off.”

“Might do you some good, Buck McDivit. Tell me where your leash is. I’ll take Pard for his walk,” she said.

“You’re a princess,” he said.

Pard licked her face as Buck pulled on his jeans and buttoned his shirt. “No need for a leash with Pard. Start down the trail just outside the door. I’ll catch up soon as I get my boots on.”

He could see them just ahead as he rushed down the steep trail behind his cabin. A cold front had set in overnight, leaving behind a haze of damp, morning fog. Thorn was sitting on a boulder overlooking the valley when he caught up with them.

“I just love Pard, and so does Maggie. Give him to me?” she said.

“No way,” he said. “Unless I’m included in the package.”

“Don’t know about that,” she said. “Think I’m still mad at you.”

“Don’t be that way,” he said. “You know you were having fun until Zeke showed up.”

“Your friends are crazy. KK’s a blast, and so is Sara, though Lana’s kind of a snob.”

“And Clayton?”

“Love him. He’s so handsome. Reminds me of an old movie star.”

“Don’t call him old, at least to his face,” Buck said.

“Colley was a trip, and so full of himself,” she said. “The woman with him is a Fox anchor. They were having more fun than anyone else.”

“And Ezekiel Big Shoe?”

“I can’t believe he has a girlfriend. His wife Madelyn is a classy woman. She’d die if she knew how much he’d disgraced her.”

“Will you tell her?” Buck asked.

A shake of her head answered his question before she spoke.

“Someone else other than me will have to break the news to her. It’s so sad.”

“What?”

“Even her son is in on the sham. What a prick. I can’t believe I loved him.”

They continued down the trail, a cool summer breeze blowing up the mountain. Buck felt a drop of rain on his shoulders.

“We better head back before the bottom drops out,” he said.

They almost made it to the cabin before the skies turned dark and opened up in a torrent of summer rain. Buck was pulling his shirt off before he got through the front door.

“There’s an extra robe on the hanger behind the bathroom door,” he said. “We can throw our wet clothes in the dryer.”

He was in his own terrycloth robe and feeding Pard when Thorn emerged from the bathroom.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she said. “Just because I’m naked under this robe doesn’t mean we’re going to do anything.”

“Just as well,” he said. “I need to show you and Jake something, and I don’t need sex on my mind.”

“Good luck with that,” she said.

Jake answered on the second ring.

“Jake Huntington,” he said.

“It’s Buck. How’s your schedule look?”

“Tight,” he said. “Just finished my interview with Colley’s girlfriend. She gave me hell about my black eye. What’s up?”

“Thorn’s here with me. She’s cooking breakfast.”