The Night Is Watching

It was Johnny Bearclaw.

 

“Sloan,” Johnny told him, “your bug has gone off. I heard shuffling. There’s movement in the mine shaft.”

 

“I’m on my way out. I want you to ride with me, Johnny.”

 

“I’ll get the horses ready.”

 

He hung up quickly and went over to interrupt the “Kodak moment.”

 

“Jane, can I see you, please?”

 

“Sheriff!” Cy protested. “We’ve become a sensation! We’re better than ever with Agent Everett. She can work tomorrow, can’t she?”

 

“I’m not taking Agent Everett away,” Sloan assured Cy, although he didn’t understand why Cy was so worried. Brian might play the “bad boy,” and “bad boys” might be popular, but Cy did all right for himself. He was tall, blond and built. He had plenty of charm, too—and he knew it.

 

“Good!” Valerie said happily. “I’m always glad to have a fed with a gun around! Especially since we’re missing Jennie today. Where’s our stage mom? Haven’t seen her yet.”

 

“Maybe she’s getting into costume,” Cy said with a shrug.

 

“Yeah, running late!” Brian murmured. He grinned as if they were conspirators. “I think Jennie’s been getting it on lately. She crawled up to her room really late a few times in the past week.”

 

“Jennie—getting it on?” Valerie asked. “Seriously? With whom?” She giggled.

 

“Oh, for a sweet young thing, that was cruel!” Alice told her.

 

“Not cruel, just...”

 

“Truthful?” Brian suggested.

 

“Well, let’s face it. Jennie isn’t going to be the next swimsuit model of the year,” Cy commented. “Still, it was cruel, young woman,” he said to Valerie. “There’s someone out there for everyone!”

 

Sloan shook his head, unimpressed by the actors’ banter, and turned to give Jane a questioning look. She wasn’t wearing her customary holster.

 

“Strapped to my thigh,” Jane said softly. But she was heard.

 

“Sexy!” Brian told her.

 

“Safe,” she said, her tone harsh.

 

“Excuse me. Like I said, I need to speak with Jane for a minute.”

 

“Okay, you’re the sheriff. Steal our prize act for the day!” Brian said with mock dismay.

 

He took her aside. “That was Johnny. There’s someone in the mine shaft. I’m heading out there.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Jane insisted.

 

“No,” he said firmly.

 

“I’m an agent. Not an actress. This is fun, but I don’t think you should be going in there alone. You—”

 

“Jane,” he broke in. “I know you’re a competent law enforcement officer, and that you can use a weapon.”

 

“Well, then?”

 

He hesitated, about to say something he hadn’t wanted to admit before. “Jane, I need you to be the one who knows where I am in case something happens. Jay Berman was from New York, yes. But I still believe he was killed by someone out here. Someone who’s aware of the old legends—someone who thinks he can find the gold, perhaps, or someone running an illicit scheme out here.” He lowered his voice. “That means I don’t know whom to trust. What if one of my staff talks to the wrong person? For the moment, anyway, the fewer people involved, the safer I’ll feel. Johnny will ride with me. Just make sure you keep hearing from me every hour or so.”

 

“All right,” she said slowly. “All right, but you know I’m going to be a nervous wreck.”

 

“And you know that it’s the best way for me to work this.”

 

“I’m not so sure about that,” she said. “You could call in Newsome...”

 

“I will,” Sloan told her. “But I don’t want to cry wolf. I want to have some idea of what’s really going on here. And I don’t want to scare anyone away from the mine shaft, not when it might be a piece of the puzzle.”

 

“Should I stay here in town?”

 

“You’re making a lot of kids happy,” he said. “And you’ll be closer to my property and the Apache and mine sections of the trail ride if I do need you.”

 

Jane touched his arm and moved closer. “Ghosts might appear, but facial reconstructions do not complete themselves.”

 

“We’ll get back to work soon,” he said. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t help disliking the fact that his great-great grandmother was a pile of bones and decayed, dried-out tissue and fabric on a slab at the county morgue, while her skull was riddled with markers and clay down at the police station.

 

Still, that couldn’t compare with a man who’d just been murdered, even if he hadn’t been the most upstanding citizen.

 

He was also certain that they needed to establish the identity of the long-dead man who’d been found at the Apache village.

 

Somehow it all connected. He knew it.

 

“I’ll keep in touch,” he told her.

 

“You’d better.”

 

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