The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3) Read online

  “How intriguing!” Carma said, her eyes widening. “A mysterious symbol! No, I don’t think I’ve ever run across it. What do you think it means?”

  “Well, I saw the same mark on a warning sign at the mouth of Plague Canyon this morning,” Deem replied. “Very small, in the right upper corner. Didn’t think much of it, until I noticed it on a page I was just scanning.”

  “Did Claude’s writings explain it?” Carma asked.

  “Kind of,” Deem replied. “It said it was used many years ago by a group of local archeologists who were also spiritualists and supposedly had ‘unusual powers’. I take that last part to mean gifted.”

  “Fascinating!” Carma said, her glass of Baileys waving though the air as she spoke. Deem was afraid the liquid would fly out of the glass, but it always seemed to slosh to the top of the rim and then settle back down. “Like a secret code between artisans!”

  “I guess,” Deem replied. “It makes me wonder if there was more to that sign than I thought.”

  “What did the sign say?”

  “It was old, and there was a board missing at the bottom,” Deem replied. “It read: ‘Private property. Dangerous Canyon. Stay…’ and then the rest of it was cut off by the missing board.”

  “Stay out, no doubt,” Carma said.

  “That’s what we thought.”

  “And the mark was on the sign?”

  “Upper right corner. Not big, but easy enough to make out.”

  “And the sign looked old?” Carma asked. “Like it could have been made by an archeologist many years ago?”

  “I suppose,” Deem answered. “It looked like it had been baking in the sun there for years. The letters were etched and burned into the wood.”

  “Did you inspect the sign in the River?” Carma asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, I didn’t think to,” Deem answered.

  She pointed a long, boney finger at Deem. “Then you must go back out there, my dear, and see if there’s a secret message on it, intended only for gifteds. Archaeologist gifteds, presumably.”

  “Like a sign within a sign?” Deem asked.

  “Yes,” Carma replied, taking another sip of her cordial. “One sign for normal folk, but within it a sign for someone with the gift.”

  “Getting back in there is going to be tricky,” Deem said. “They patrol the area pretty tightly.”

  “Oh,” Carma replied, waving her hand dismissively, “you’ll figure that out.”

  Easy for her to say, Deem thought. She watched Carma sip at her drink again and thought she looked different than normal — tired.

  “You going to stay here tonight?” Carma asked.

  “If it’s still alright with you?” Deem replied.

  “Of course it is; I’ve said so.”

  “I think I’ve got another full day of scanning, and I’ll be done. My mom probably wonders what I’m up to.”

  “You’re calling her, I hope.”

  “She’s in Arizona,” Deem replied. “I call every other day.”

  “What’s she doing in Arizona?” Carma asked.

  “She went down with my aunt, her sister,” Deem answered. “Probably doing a ton of shopping and dining out. That’s what they usually do.”

  “Everyone’s busy!” Carma replied. “We’re all industrious little bees.”

  “You seem tired, yourself,” Deem observed. “This project with Lyman, I’m guessing?”

  “Yes, dear,” Carma said. “It’s been a lot of work. But I think it will be worthwhile.”

  Carma didn’t seem to want to provide details, and Deem didn’t feel like prying, so she changed the subject.

  “I called Ester with an update. Lizzy’s still the same — unresponsive.”

  “Poor thing, I’m sure Ester’s a puddle of worry,” Carma replied.

  “I have a date tomorrow, with the guy I met at Plague Canyon,” she said. “The one who stopped us from going in.”

  Carma turned to her, her face lighting up more than usual.

  “A date?!” she exclaimed. “Oh, how terribly exciting! Is he handsome? Is he a charmer?”

  Deem thought for a moment. Warren didn’t have model good looks, he was more of a rugged guy. She couldn’t help but notice, though, that as he rode the horse, his legs looked plenty thick and muscular through his jeans, and his chest had filled in from the thin, teenaged chest she knew in high school. His shoulders were broad, his voice was low and masculine, and his face looked manlier than it had the last time she saw him, covered in a day’s stubble. His eyes were the real standout — endlessly blue.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Deem said. “I knew him in high school but haven’t seen him since. He’s changed; he’s grown up. We’re going to the Bear Paw for lunch tomorrow.”

  “So you can manipulate him into letting you into the canyon?” Carma asked. “Or because you like him?”

  “A little of both,” Deem answered.

  “Mixing business with pleasure can be deliciously exciting, my dear,” Carma said. “Just make sure no one gets hurt, if you can help it. Hurt people do stupid things.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  Thank god he’s dressed casually, Deem thought as she saw Warren sitting at a table at the Bear Paw. When he saw her approaching, he hopped up from the table and pulled out a chair for her.

  “Thank you!” Deem said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Of course I do,” Warren said, sitting down across from her. He wasn’t shy, and he wasn’t awkward like the boys she remembered from high school. He was staring her right in the eyes.

  “A man always gets the chair for a woman,” he said, then glanced down at the menu.

  “I often like to get chairs for myself,” Deem replied. “I hope that won’t destroy any macho illusions you may have.”

  Warren looked back up and placed a hand over his heart. “You think I have macho illusions?” he asked with a smile.

  “Most guys do. That stuff just never matters to me.”

  “I think that’s one of the things I always liked about you,” he replied. “You always spoke your mind. I remember an American History class where you did that a lot.”

  “You had Mr. Olsen?” she asked, then thought about what she’d said: it meant she’d forgotten Warren was in that class with her. She instantly felt awful, and tried not to let it show on her face, but was unsuccessful.

  “Yeah,” Warren replied. “I know… I wasn’t exactly memorable in high school. Don’t feel bad.”

  “I remember that you lettered in track,” Deem said, trying to redeem herself. “And you were a Sterling Scholar in math.”

  “Oh, so you do remember me?” Warren said, smiling.

  “I remember you,” Deem said. “You were always a solid, decent guy.”

  Decent? she thought, trying not to cringe. No guy wants to hear that he’s ‘decent’. I’m screwing this up.

  “Thanks, I guess,” he replied.

  “No, I mean it,” she said. “So many people in high school were awful. You were always one of the good people. That’s what I meant.”

  “Oh,” he replied. “Well, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  God, this seems really awkward, she thought. Loosen up! She reached for the menu and opened it. The waitress came by, but Warren told her they’d need more time before they were ready to order, and she wandered off.

  “You don’t know what you want?” Deem asked him.

  “Oh, yeah, I do, but I saw you’d just started reading the menu, so I figured you could use more time.”

  “I can answer for myself, Warren,” she said, still reading the menu. “I don’t need you to speak to the waitress for me.”

  She glanced up and could see Warren was confused and a little crestfallen. She started to speak to correct herself, thinking she might have hurt his feelings, but then she remembered that she always hated herself when she did that with boys, countering how she really felt just to make them feel better, so she
didn’t say anything.

  “I’m…” Warren started haltingly. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean… I just… ”

  “It’s fine,” Deem said, smiling at him. “I’m not a delicate little flower like most of the women around here, needing a man to talk for me and give me permission to do things, or to open my door or pull out my chair. I’ve got eyes and hands and a mouth. I can speak for myself and open my own doors.”

  Warren stared back at her with a huge look of concern.

  “Were you thinking I’d be a little miss molly Mormon date, Warren? Your open mouth makes me think so.”

  “Well, I’ll admit I’ve never had a woman start a date like this,” he replied, gathering his bearings. “I’m a little surprised, but then again, I shouldn’t be. I know you’re not like most women around here.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  Warren smiled at her. “No, I find it rather arousing.”

  She was surprised at his reaction. Usually when she began to press her opinions with guys, it quickly ended things. She decided to see if he was genuine.

  “Haven’t known many return missionaries to mention ‘arousal’ on the first date,” she said. “You’re not like most men around here, either.”

  “Does that make us outcasts?” Warren asked. “Or just really, really interesting and hot?”

  She laughed. OK, she thought. He survived that; this might work.

  The conversation turned light and pleasant, moving from history since high school to family and jobs. Soon their food arrived and Deem picked at her sandwich while Warren inhaled his within minutes.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I ate too fast. I apologize. I was starving.”

  “The sandwiches are so big here,” Deem said. “I think I’ll wind up taking half of mine home.”

  “What’ll you do with the rest of your day?” Warren asked. “What do you like to do for fun?”

  “Well, I like to spend time outdoors,” she replied. “Hiking, obviously.”

  “Me too. I’m lucky my job keeps me outside most of the time.”

  “If you’re off at one, how early do you start?”

  “5, when it’s still dark.”

  “That’s a long shift,” Deem said.

  “Not really. It’s eight hours. Then a second shift comes on, from one to ten. I’d rather work mornings.”

  “And then there’s a shift from ten to five?” Deem asked. “A graveyard shift?”

  “Nah, Hinton doesn’t keep people out there at night. I think he figures no one would want to be out in the desert at that time anyway.”

  “Oh, so no one’s there at night,” Deem said out loud, immediately regretting how it sounded.

  “You thinking about going back?” Warren asked. “Now that you got that out of me?”

  “Well, no, I don’t know,” Deem replied, knowing she needed to cover herself. “Who would want to see the canyon at night, anyway?”

  “Exactly,” Warren replied. “Not to mention how dangerous it is. Probably ten times worse at night.” He studied her face for a moment; she seemed lost in thought.

  “You really do want to go there, don’t you?” he asked.

  Deem snapped from her drifting. “What makes you say that?”

  “You look like you want to. I can tell.”

  “You can’t tell.”

  “I can. It’s all over your face. You’re trying to figure out how to sneak back in there at night.”

  Shit, she thought. I didn’t play that very well. “Alright, you caught me. Yes, I’m intrigued by that canyon. I suppose being told I can’t see it makes it all the more intriguing.”

  “Just like you were in high school!” Warren said, smiling. “You know, there’s a much easier way for you to get back there, easier than sneaking in at night.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just ride in there with me, on horseback.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re not a trespasser if you’re with me, along for the ride.”

  “You won’t get in trouble?”

  “The other guys who work the ranch have visitors all the time. I think Hinton likes to have them, as long as they’re on his side of things, and not on the government’s side. It’s a strength-in-numbers thing to him.”

  “So, you’re saying you’d take me in with you?”

  “I’ll ride with you to the mouth of it, at least,” Warren replied. “I’ve ridden that far myself, despite the warnings. But that’s as far as I’ll take you, and it’s as far as you should go. If you’d heard the stories I have about the place, you wouldn’t want to go any farther, either.”

  “You work tomorrow?” Deem asked.

  “You wanna go tomorrow?” Warren smiled at her. She looked for a moment at his smile, which was a little crooked, but one hundred percent genuine. He’s pleased I want to spend more time with him, she thought. But he’s not sure if that’s the reason I’m asking.

  “Yeah, tomorrow!” she replied with just enough enthusiasm to mask her intentions.

  “OK,” Warren said. “Meet me where your friend parked his Jeep at 9 tomorrow morning. We’ll go from there.”

  The waitress came by and dropped the check at the table. Deem reached out and grabbed it before Warren could get to it.

  “You’re not paying for this,” Warren said.

  “Oh, yes I am,” Deem replied, reaching for her credit card. “If you’re going to give me a tour of the canyon tomorrow, the least I can do is take care of lunch.”

  “Well,” Warren said, leaning back in his chair, “never had a woman pick up the check before. And it feels very quid pro quo.”

  “That’s because you’ve never met someone like me before,” Deem replied. “Does it bother you?”

  “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that,” Warren replied.

  “And what’s your answer this time?”

  “Same as the first,” he said, his smile reappearing. With him pressed back in his chair, Deem could see his upper body even better than when he’d been on the horse, and she noticed how his t-shirt hugged his torso, outlining muscles on his chest. Impressive, she thought, but don’t let your face show it! Something was different about Warren than she’d expected, and she was trying to put her finger on it. Was it his better than average response to her feminist edge? The way he’d kept the conversation funny and interesting? Unlike other dates, he’d not talked incessantly about himself — was that it? How about the fact that he’d mentioned arousal? Not something she would have expected of a nice Mormon boy.

  All of that had appealed to Deem, and she found herself liking Warren, ready to chalk up the first date as a success provided they made it out of the café without an incident that ruined things. Then, as she studied Warren stretched back in his chair, it came to her, the reason why she thought something was different: no garment line.

  He couldn’t have been back from his mission for more than a year, she thought. And he’s not wearing garments under that t-shirt — I can tell. There’s no ring around his neck, the surefire giveaway that you’re dealing with a male Mormon. Did he take them off for this date? Or does he not wear them anymore? If so, that would mean a significant break with the church. She tucked the discovery into her brain, knowing that if she continued to see him, it’d come up down the road.

  She settled the bill and took out an uneaten half-sandwich. Warren tried to get ahead of her to open the restaurant door for her, but there were a lot of people waiting in line and Deem made sure she got to the door first, opening it for him instead. She could see he was a little disappointed that he hadn’t made it in time. They walked down the sidewalk to the parking lot.

  “Well, I think that went pretty well, don’t you?” Warren asked.

  “You didn’t freak out when I held the door open for you, so yes,” she replied.

  “Actually, it was nice,” Warren replied. “You’re quite the gentleman.”

  “How gracious you are, my lady.”

&nb
sp; Deem saw Warren come to a stop, and she thought, Uh oh, I just crossed the line. Threatened his manhood by calling him a lady. Here we go.

  He turned to her, and she looked at him. He clearly wasn’t upset. In fact, he looked the opposite. “Here’s my car. I really did have a nice time, Deem,” he said. “It was great to catch up with you.”

  Deem was relived. “Me too, Warren. So, tomorrow morning? 9?”

  “Can’t wait,” he said, and opened his car door.

  She turned and walked to her truck. From the look on his face, she thought, he really meant it. And I need to stop assuming he’ll behave like most guys around here. He’s already proven he doesn’t.

  Chapter Six

  When Deem pulled her truck into the turnout the next morning, Warren was waiting there for her, an extra horse in tow. She stopped the truck away from the animals and got out.

  “You drive a truck,” Warren stated as she approached him.

  “Yeah, it was my father’s before he passed,” she replied.

  Warren was staring at her, smiling, holding the reins of both horses.

  “What?” she asked.

  “It just keeps getting better,” he replied, extending the reins of one of the horses to her.

  “What, because I drive a truck?”

  “Any woman who drives a truck is alright by me,” he said.

  “Oh, I see,” she replied. “Am I earning merit badges in your mind?”

  He blushed a little. “You know how to ride?”

  Deem slipped two fingers under the saddle girth on the side of the horse, checking the tightness. Then she placed the reins in her left hand, grasped the mane and the back rim of the saddle, slipped her left foot into the stirrup and swung her right leg up and over the horse.

  She looked down at Warren. “Another merit badge?”

  Warren’s smile turned into an outright grin. He walked to his horse and mounted it, then he led them down a trail toward the canyon. Deem loved the smell of damp sagebrush all around them, the result of overnight dew. It was a smell she associated with being outdoors in the early morning, and it always appealed to her. She moved her horse up next to Warren.

  “You know, it’s not like you’re not keeping track of me, too,” Warren said. “I know how this works. We’re each ticking off checkmarks next to a list of things we like and we don’t like.”