He was responsible for one woman’s death. Abby had already come close to dying. Just the thought made his stomach burn.
Exhausted, he finally drifted into a restless slumber, only to awaken a few hours later. He rolled out of bed before dawn, showered, dressed, and left the room. He was tired, his mind sluggish, but thoughts of finding the Peralta gold—the Devil’s Gold—began to fire his adrenaline, and anticipation filled him.
The woman from the village, Blanca, showed up with breakfast. Gage, Mateo, and Carlos ate first. Edge and his team, once more staying in the hotel, showed up and ate too. Finally, Abby arrived.
Gage felt a tug in his heart. He thought of the words she had said to him last night, words he couldn’t return. “You okay?”
She looked up at him, her expression purposely bland. “Today we’re going to find the Devil’s Gold. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He thought of last night, and guilt assailed him.
Zuma came in and began putting a meal together for her and King.
“You think he’s up to this?” Gage asked as she filled a tray.
“He lives by a thin thread of sheer will,” Zuma said. “King wants to find the gold for Abby.”
“And for himself,” Gage said.
“Sí, it is his dream.”
“Then we had better make sure it happens.” He turned to Mateo. “What’s the atmosphere like in the village? They lost a number of men yesterday. The ones who didn’t die were arrested and hauled away, probably never to be seen again.”
“They went against Ramón Velásquez. The villagers just pray the families will not be murdered.”
“You think they will be?”
“I hope not.”
“So do I, though Arturo deserves to pay a hard price for what he did to King.”
“Probably it will not happen,” Mateo said.
Gage made no reply. Arturo’s failure to retrieve the gold and the loss of his men weren’t nearly punishment enough. The deteriorated state of his hacienda showed how close he was to complete financial ruin, and there was no gold to save him. That was something at least.
They packed up their gear and headed back to the dig site, Gage and Trace loading King on a pallet in the back of the Hummer. Abby climbed in beside him while Zuma sat up front with Gage. Carlos rode in the second vehicle with Mateo.
When the Jeep carrying Edge, Trace, and Skye arrived at the hacienda, they set up perimeter surveillance, but everything seemed quiet. There was nothing left to remind them of the carnage yesterday except an occasional dark spot in the soil where blood had soaked into the ground.
Fortunately, the area King pointed them toward was away from the field where the shooting had taken place. Using a litter that Edge and Trace had fashioned from stripped tree branches, they carried the old man to the chamber where Gage had originally been digging.
Abby walked up to him. “King says we were right in the first place. What we found under the house was a room off the main corridor. The gold’s stored in another room off to one side.”
Gage nodded, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the work they had already done. “We’d have found it sooner or later.”
“Unless Velásquez’s men had killed us first,” Abby said.
Gage looked down at her, fighting an overwhelming urge to pull her into his arms. “A definite possibility,” he agreed. She was different today, already backing away from him, distancing herself. He didn’t like it.
From his litter beside the chamber, King could look into the hole where they’d been digging, the place where Abby had saved his life. A chill crawled over Gage’s skin. The place where she could have drowned.
It was exactly the reason they couldn’t be together. He couldn’t survive a loss like that again.
He studied the muddy hole in the ground. The bad news was it no longer looked the same. The storm waters had caved in one side, and though the water had receded, mounds of dirt, timbers, and flooring had been left behind.
King raised himself up on the litter. “Bring me my . . . notes.”
Gage retrieved the information, carried it over, and spread the pages open on the ground next to the litter. King studied the charts and his notes, looking back at the pit, then beyond.
“There,” he said, pointing. “The lower floor is full of mud . . . but the dirt washed in from . . . over there.” He struggled, wheezing and coughing, finally managed to catch his breath. “Get me up.”
With Gage’s help, King managed to gain his feet. Gage lifted one of King’s arms over his shoulder and Abby did the same on the other side. Together they helped him make it to the spot he indicated, a concave depression that hadn’t been there before the storm. Mud and debris, timbers and broken tiles littered the area, but . . .
“There!” King pointed a shaking hand, a huge grin on his face.
The glint of gold was unmistakable. “Jesus . . .” Gage climbed into the hole and sank ankle deep in the mud. So did Mateo, both of them pulling wood and debris out of the way, exposing a pile of gleaming gold bars. Abby joined them, and more gold ingots came into view.
There were stacks of them in the depression, others scattered all around. The more debris they cleared away, the more gold bars appeared.
“The Devil’s Gold,” King said with reverence from his place on the ground above the hole.
It took a lot of hard work, but when they were finished and all of the gold had been uncovered, Abby sat down beside her grandfather.
“You were right all along,” she said, taking hold of his hand.
King looked up at her, his smile wan. “You’ll tell them? You’ll show them . . . the gold?”
She leaned over and kissed his hollow, beard-roughened cheek. “I’ll tell them. Gage will tell them. We’ll make them eat their words.”
King nodded, pleased. He lay back on the ground and closed his eyes. Abby held on to his hand.
Long seconds passed. The sun came out from behind the clouds, and even the mud that clung to the gold couldn’t dull the glitter.
Gage watched as Zuma approached and knelt on the ground beside them. She checked King’s pulse, leaned over his face to see if he was still breathing. She looked at Gage and shook her head.
Zuma turned to Abby. “Go to your man,” she said. “He will look after you now. Your grandfather is gone.”
“No.” Abby’s eyes filled. She shook her head. “Not yet.” She bent over King, still holding his hand, trying to feel his breath on her face. “You can’t go yet. Do you hear me? We just found the gold.” She started crying, a rush of tears that broke Gage’s heart.
He went to her, eased her to her feet, and turned her into his arms. “You made him happy, honey. You gave him the most precious gift he’s ever received. You gave him his dream.”
Abby started crying, and Gage pressed her face into his shoulder. “We’ll take care of him. We’ll take him home.”
Her tears turned to sobs, and Gage just held her. He ached for her, ached for her terrible loss. He wanted to absorb her pain, protect her from the heartache, make everything right for her again.
Was that love?
Gage prayed it wasn’t.
But as he led her away, his chest tight and his heart beating dully, he was very much afraid it was.