My great-great-grandfather Charles Beaumont Sr. settled here in 1847.”
Claire tuned out Ben’s docent tones and hugged her knees to her chest. Seated on one of the couches in the hacienda’s large living room, she trembled from head to toe, wondering how her father-in-law could give a history lesson at this point in time. And where was Indio? She half expected her to appear with a tea tray. The two of them slid into hosting mode as if it were a typical Saturday at the Hideaway.
Lanterns lit the sala, many of them focused on the framed wall map Ben pointed to. Yellowed and faded, it was a topographical map of the Beaumont property. There he stood, discussing family lore with Lexi and the firemen, Eddie, Zak, and Chad.
Why wasn’t Max there?
One of the two younger ones—Zak or Chad—approached her, sidestepping Samson and Willow. The pets paced the room, whining and sniffing, obviously unnerved.
Chad-slash-Zak sat on the edge of the couch. His fireproof over-alls and orange jacket with reflective stripes were incongruous in such a setting. “Are you all right?”
“Should I be? There’s no way out. You can see that by the map.”
“We’ll find a way. That’s our job.”
“You got stuck here.”
She had started trembling again earlier when Ben asked about their fire engine and radios. Eddie, the oldest and the apparent leader, said the radio quit working when a leaping wave of flame crossed the road and trees fell. In the confusion they became separated from the truck.
How did firemen lose a fire truck?
He said, “We’re not stuck, ma’am, just rethinking strategy.” He smiled. His teeth were a brilliant white against the smudges on his smooth face. Sweat had left little trails through one of the dirt spots. He was so young.
“We can’t stay in the house.” She’d overheard them discussing the four-foot-thick adobe walls and tile roof.
“It’s best not to. The exterior won’t burn, but if the fire were to get close enough, the thousand-degree heat would burst through the windows, and then we’d be in trouble.”
She blinked. The kid seemed excited talking about death and destruction.
Why wasn’t Max here?
“Papa!” Lexi cried out, her voice high. “The gold mine! We can go there!”
Eddie said, “Gold mine?”
Ben traced his finger along the map. “My great-grandfather, Charles Jr., refused to include it on the map. He was so mad at his dad, Charles Sr., over the gold business. Senior found gold here in ’48. Not much—enough to buy the acreage and build this house. But as the story goes, he wasted his life digging for more that didn’t exist. He died down in that mine. Let’s see, it’s in this area.”
“No.” Lexi reached up and touched the map. “It’s here.”
“Lexi, I know—”
“This is a back entrance.”
“What?”
“You don’t know it?”
Ben reddened. “What are you talking about?”
“The main entrance is too close to the canyon. See?” She pointed at another place on the map. “The fire’s probably already in the area. But here, on the other side of those hills, we can get in.”
“There’s no way—”
“Papa, there is. It’s where I find the morel mushrooms. My gosh, don’t have a stroke just because we kept it a secret from you.”
“Secret or no secret, I told you kids never to go near the mine.”
“Papa, I’m twenty-six!”
“I don’t care—”
Eddie laid a hand on his shoulder. “Lexi, can we get to it? Can we get inside it?”
“Yes. I know that for a fact.” She turned back to the map. “We drive to here. Then hike up, twenty minutes or so.”
“Okay, gang,” he said. “We have a plan.”
A loud whoosh sounded. There was the crash of breaking glass. Something thundered. The floor shook.
And Indio screamed.