It was a plastic water bottle.
“I don’t think they made these in the 1920s,” she said.
He nodded. He wasn’t sure what anyone was doing here—other than maybe conducting some kind of illegal trade. He doubted the person or persons in question had found the cache of gold—although he had no idea why there was gold dust scattered near the entrance.
He pulled a small listening device out of his pocket and looked around for a rock with a little crevice.
“How long will that last?” Jane asked skeptically.
“Well, it’s motion-activated and the battery will last twelve to twenty-four hours when it’s active,” he told her. “Come on. Let’s get out before the wrong person comes along and realizes that we’re in here.”
They crawled back out. When they were once again standing in the late-afternoon sun again, he looked at Jane and laughed.
“That’s rude,” she chastised. “Especially from a man who looks like he’s been mud-wrestling with pygmies.”
He sobered only slightly. Jane was covered in dust; even her eyelashes were a smoky taupe shade. Her auburn hair was almost gray.
“Come on. You really should see yourself,” he said.
“Yep. And you really should see yourself!”
They both mounted up. “Let’s hope we don’t meet up with anyone!” Jane muttered.
“The trail rides don’t start until tomorrow, so we should be okay,” he said.
Johnny was waiting for them when they returned. He looked them both up and down.
“Nice. May I suggest showers? And you might want to hurry. Chet’s coming by with some reports from Detective Newsome at county.”
“Shall we?” he asked Jane.
“Yes, thanks, although my clothes will still be covered with this stuff. Remind me next time we’re going to crawl through tunnels not to wear a cotton suit.”
“I have a washer and dryer,” he told her. “We’ll be fine. Chet won’t stay, I’m sure, but I do have to get you back to town.”
They left Johnny whistling as he tended to the horses. “Strange,” he told Jane. “The other night, I was convinced someone was on my property. I didn’t find anything—but my place is the most direct route when you’re riding through to the trail. There’s that little gap between those rocky hills once you’re off the property line.”
“So you think whoever murdered Jay Berman went through your property?” she asked.
“The question is still why? Is someone selling illegal drugs? Smuggling illegal aliens? Trying to reopen the silver mine? Or—”
“Or maybe the gold from the heist was hidden in the mine.”
“I’d thought of that—except the mine wasn’t closed down until almost forty years later. So I can’t figure out what anyone’s doing in there. For one thing, it’s dangerous. The integrity of the caverns must have been destroyed when the entry was dynamited.”
Inside the house he directed her to the master suite. “Everything you need should be in there.”
“Oh?”
He grimaced. “Not to worry, Agent Everett. That suite was my grandfather’s, I never moved over from the other side of the house. Check in the closet. You’ll find soap, shampoo, towels, robes.”
“Prepared for guests, are you?” she asked tartly.
He grinned at that. “Not the way you seem to be thinking,” he said, catching the fire in her gold eyes. “We cleaned out his rooms when he died. Johnny would make someone a terrific mother, though. He thinks the house should always be well supplied. He lives in the eternal belief that I will one day continue the family line.”
“I see,” she said. “Well, then, I’ll be sure to thank Johnny.”
She walked down the hallway to the master suite; when the door was closed, Sloan saw Longman seated by the fire.
“Don’t let that one go,” Longman said.
“How can I hold on to something I don’t have?” Sloan asked.
Longman looked at him. “When did you stop going after what you wanted?”
“She’s a federal agent,” he said quietly. “Works out of Washington.”
“And you can be a sheriff anywhere.”
“This is my home.”
“Did you intend to stay here forever, then?” Longman asked him. “Home isn’t a place. Home is with the people who make your life.”
Sloan shook his head and walked to the other side of the house, where there were two bedrooms. Cougar was curled up on his bed. He didn’t bother to lift his head when Sloan came in. Apparently, it was one of the sixteen hours of the day the cat considered nap time.