Mountain Moonlight

chapter 2





The wariness in the kid's eyes had decided him, Bram thought as he tucked his denim shirt into his jeans in the early morning darkness. Though Davis, fair-haired and blue-eyed, didn't look anything like the young boy Bram had once been, he'd recognized a kindred spirit, a lonely, confused youngster on his way to becoming embittered.

Bram knew the feeling well and he meant to do his damnedest to make an adventure out of this trip into the Superstitions. Since talking with Vala and her son had convinced him that Davis was determined to believe in the fake deer skin map, he'd try to give the boy some excitement to make up for the disappointment that was bound to come when Davis discovered the old Apache's gift didn't point the way to a treasure lode.

Ndee, not Apache, Davis was right. Not that it made a hell of a lot of difference.

In any case, Bram wasn't giving up his long-planned trip to the Caribbean for Vala's sake. Not at all. It was for her son. No nine-year-old boy should have to feel rejected. Rejected. Bram gritted his teeth, reminded of what he'd long ago buried with the rest of his unhappy past.

Vala obviously loved her son but what she'd told him, combined with what he'd seen in Davis's eyes, had echoed in Bram's heart. He knew from his own experience that the love of a mother never quite made up for an absent, uncaring father.

If I was worth anything, he'd pay attention to me.

Did those words haunt Davis as they had young Bram?

I can't solve the problem, Bram told himself, but I can do my best to give Davis a slam-bang western adventure to take home with him.

As for Vala--well, what about her? He'd be lying if he didn't admit she still appealed to him. Or that what had happened years ago didn't still rankle. Gentlemen never stooped to getting even, he reminded himself--but then no one had ever accused him of being a gentleman. He half-smiled, contemplating the enforced togetherness of a camping trip with pleasurable anticipation.

All right, so he had more than one motive for agreeing to take mother and son into the mountains. So what? Both he and Vala were over thirty--God, where had the years gone--? And free of entanglements.

He finished pulling on his boots and strode to the kitchen to get his wake-me-up slug of coffee before driving the pickup to the Apache Junction motel to pick up his two happy campers. He'd already told them they'd have breakfast at the horse ranch.

His evaluation of Vala went up a notch when he found both her and her son ready to go. He had little patience with dawdlers. "Pancakes and sausage at Brenden's Bronco Corral," he told Davis.

Davis glanced at his mother before saying, "There's a whole lot of cholesterol in sausages."

"We'll work it off, I promise you," Bram assured him. "And while we're on the subject of food--" He paused to look at Vala before turning back to Davis--"everybody eats what the cook--that's me--packs in. The first complainer gets to take over the cooking."

Vala lifted her hands. "Hey, I'm on vacation. You won't hear any complaints from me."

"Me neither," Davis agreed, eyeing the pickup wistfully. "I found out in summer camp that cooking over a camp fire is hard."

"Want to ride with me?" Bram asked him.

"Okay, Mom?"

Vala nodded and Davis wasted no time climbing into the cab of the truck.

"You'll be following me on up the Apache Trail--that's Route 88--for about four miles," Bram told Vala. "You'll see a sign for Brenden's to the right. We'll turn off there."



She nodded and got into her small rental car, packed with camping gear. As she pulled onto the highway after his truck, she tried not to think about what was to come after the pancakes and sausages at Brenden's. As the time crept closer to actually mounting a horse, she became more and more nervous.

Before they went to bed last night, she'd picked Davis's brain for all the tips he could remember about riding and horses and discovered there was more to it than she'd imagined. You even had to get on the animal from a certain side.

"You mean to tell me the horse will know the difference if I try to mount him from his right side instead of his left?" she'd asked. "Who made up these rules anyway?"

"They told us at summer camp that in the olden days the knights used to carry their swords on their left side so it was easier for them to throw their right leg over the saddle first. I guess it just sort of became a tradition to train horses that way."

"I'm never going to remember all this stuff," she muttered.

"Don't sweat it, Mom," he'd advised finally. "Just remember that you and not the horse is in charge and you'll be okay."

I shouldn't have any trouble with that, she thought now. I'm a human and humans are smarter than horses.

All she had to do was get into the saddle without mishap and then her horse would follow the one ahead of him. Or so Davis had assured her. She ought to be able to manage that. In fact, she had to or she'd give herself away and Bram might well back out of the trip altogether. For Davis's sake, that mustn't happen.

All of this was for Davis's sake. It really didn't make any difference that the idea of following the old map into the mountains had much more appeal to her ever since Bram had offered to guide them. Why shouldn't it? He was not only a camping expert but also someone she'd known in the past. Not a friend, exactly, but not a stranger either.

Who knows, maybe they'd be friends by the time the trip was over. She found herself humming "Getting To Know You" and stopped abruptly. Getting to know Bram was not the reason she was on this journey.

Though the sun wasn't up, to her right she could see the dark silhouette of Superstition Mountain against the lightening sky. On the flat land to the left, a lone saguaro cactus thrust up two giant arms as though welcoming her back to the country where she'd been born.

Vala knew that Phoenix was a green oasis in the midst of dry country but she hadn't clearly remembered how desert-like the surroundings actually were. Not sand dune desert but arid country where little grew except cacti and small trees like the palo verde that could make do without much water. She'd grown accustomed to the greenery of the east coast but somehow this starkness seemed right to her, giving her a strange feeling she'd come home.

Could this feeling have anything to do with seeing Bram Hunter again?

Vala shook her head in denial. She'd already made one mistake in choosing a man; she had no intention of making another. Not that Bram had given her any reason to believe he wanted to be chosen! In fact, she'd gotten the impression he didn't think much of her.

He'd made it very clear that in his opinion the map was a fake and he'd blamed her for encouraging her son to believe in a treasure. She was well aware Bram was guiding them only because he'd taken a liking to Davis and had come to the conclusion that nothing he said would prevent her from bringing her son into the Superstitions with or without a guide.

I wouldn't want it any other way, she told herself firmly. Since Bram's not interested in me, I can relax and not worry about being more or less alone with him for the next week.

In any case, the presence of a nine-year-old was a powerful deterrent to romance, even if this particular one, once he fell asleep, couldn't easily be roused by anything less than a twenty-gun salute. Besides, she didn't want a romance. Not now, and not with Bram Hunter.

The sun was up by the time they reached Brenden's Bronco Corral--something out of a western movie. Davis was entranced, looking around excitedly as Mac Brenden greeted Bram with the ease of a long acquaintance, then sized up her and Davis. Davis seemed to pass muster but she thought Mac's shrewd blue eyes saw through her brave assertion that "any horse will do."

Tense with foreboding, she could only make a pretense of enjoying the excellent pancakes and sizzling sausage. All too soon, the time came for her to actually get into--or was it onto?--the saddle of her mount.

"Susie Q's a real easy-goer," Mac assured her. "Getting on a bit but that makes for a smart trail horse. You can't go wrong with old Susie."

Her son and Bram were already mounted, Bram on a frisky chestnut gelding named Fremont and Davis on a much smaller gelding that Mac had called a Morgan. "Wish I had a dozen as dependable as Nate," he'd said. "You can't beat a Morgan for stamina combined with an even disposition."

Taking a deep breath and reciting under her breath what her son had told her, Vala approached the mare. From the left. Standing even with the saddle, facing Susie Q, she took the reins into her left hand, then placed that hand firmly on the mare's neck and her right on the saddle horn. Relieved that Susie Q didn't move, she managed to get her left foot into the stirrup and tried her best to brace her knee against the horse. Now came the tricky part.

Pushing with her right foot. She sprang up until she was standing in the stirrup. At this point she almost lost her balance but leaned forward in time to avoid a fall. She then swung her right leg over the saddle and there she was, sitting square in the saddle, on top of Susie Q.

Flushed with triumph, she glanced around only to discover nobody was watching her. They'd all, even Davis, taken it for granted she could mount a horse. This is only the beginning, she reminded herself. Keep your mind on what to do next--heels down, hold the reins neither loose nor tight with your index finger between the two strips of leather. Don't ever hang onto the saddle horn.

In addition to the three riding horses, Bram had arranged for a pack horse. Loaded with their gear, the pack horse followed Bram's Fremont, then came Nate with Davis.

She and Susie Q brought up the rear.

Good, she thought. If I make mistakes Bram won't be so likely to notice them.

Davis had told her to lean slightly forward and move with the horse but she soon discovered that was easier said than done. Still, she wasn't too uncomfortable until they passed through the gates of the horse ranch and Bram increased Fremont's pace from a walk to what she thought might be a trot. Obediently, the other horses matched the leader's gait.

No matter what she tried to do, she kept bouncing up and down in the saddle rather than moving with Susie Q. Though jarring, it didn't bother her too much. At first.

The morning was cool enough to be coat weather, in her case a lined denim jacket. In addition she wore a broad- brimmed hat, jeans, and a pair of riding boots comfortable enough to hike in, boots that Bram had suggested she buy. Davis wore a similar outfit. Bram, she'd noticed, looked like a real honest-to-goodness cowboy.

The horses followed a trail toward Superstition Mountain, passing between clumps of ocotillo--which she seemed to recall was a shrub, not a cactus, never mind that it looked like cactus--and various large round cacti that were all leaning toward the southwest. Beyond the vegetation close to the trail were various other unfriendly-looking plants whose wicked spines and spikes made her want to grab hold of the saddle horn just in case Susie Q took a notion to buck and send her flying head over teakettle. She resisted the temptation, reminding herself that the mare was not only a tried and true trail horse but seemed to have a placid disposition as well.

The Superstitions loomed ahead, far more rugged- looking at close range than from the highway. Near the topmost peaks, the sun glinted off a broad white streak running across the otherwise reddish brown rocks making up the mountain. Unlike New York's Catskills, Superstition Mountain had no foothills, it rose straight up. Daunted and awed by the forbidding crags facing her, she realized how foolish she'd been to even think of tackling this mountain without a guide.

By the time the horses entered the mountains via a cobble-strewn wash and began to pick their way up a steep ridge, Vala's muscles were aching from the jouncing. Surely Bram would halt soon for a rest, she told herself. As the trail grew steeper, she realized that, even if they did stop, she wouldn't have enough room to dismount and ease her aches and pains. There was no choice but to grin and bear it--or at least bear it, grinning being a bit beyond her right now. The rocky, tumbled terrain around them seemed as confusing as a maze. The only consistent feature was a vast stone pillar rising in the distance--Weaver's Needle. In addition to the stands of prickly-pear cactus and the grayish jojoba shrubs, green-barked palo verde trees were strewn at random among the rocks, making her wonder how they found enough dirt to grow.

After a while she stopped noticing what was around her because she hurt too much to pay attention to anything but her own discomfort. When Susie Q finally quit moving, it took Vala a moment or two to realize they'd stopped on a small plateau. Bram and Davis had already dismounted and both were looking expectantly at her. Unfortunately, though she remembered Davis had told her to get off a horse the same way she got on, only in reverse, she was in too much pain to be able to recall how she'd mounted. And even if she did remember, she wasn't sure her aching muscles would obey her. Bram ambled toward her. "Thought we'd take a rest here," he said, obviously waiting for her to dismount.

I can simply fall off, she told herself, or I can admit to the truth. Taking a deep breath, which hurt, she let it out slowly and admitted the truth. "I can't get off unless you help me."

His eyebrows rose and he shook his head. "Stubborn," he muttered. "Have you ever been on a horse before?"

"No. And it won't do any good for you to tell me how to dismount because I hurt too much to try."

He scowled at her. "If you got on, you can get off. Listen up. Keep hold of the reins while you put your left hand on Susie Q's neck. Now put your right hand on the saddle horn. Good. Lean slightly forward and shift your weight to the left stirrup."

Vala groaned as she obeyed. When he told her to swing her right leg over the saddle, it took her two tries and a few more groans before she managed it. She was certain she'd never be able to step straight down and free her left foot from the stirrup as she did so and she was right. If Bram hadn't caught her, extricating her from the stirrup at the same time, she would have sprawled onto the ground with her left foot still caught in the damn stirrup.

She clung to Bram, hurting all over, not sure she could stand by herself, in too much pain to feel humiliated. Susie Q snorted and, when Vala involuntarily glanced at her, she found the mare had turned her head and was staring, quite possibly in disgust, at this tenderfoot rider who couldn't even dismount properly.

With Bram's help, she hobbled a few steps but, when she tried to ease down so she could stretch out on the ground, he wouldn't let her, saying, "You won't be able to get up if you do."

"I don't care," she mumbled.

"I do." His voice was hard and cold. "We're not going to camp early just for your convenience. You lied to me and you're going to suffer the consequences. We'll rest for a bit, then either we go on or we turn around and give up any idea of camping in the Superstitions."

Vala wanted nothing more than to get back to the motel as fast as possible and fall onto the bed but one look at Davis's apprehensive face and she gave up the idea. She didn't know how she'd manage it, but go on she would. Even if it killed her.

"You may have to lift me onto the horse," she told Bram, "but I'm not giving up."

"Way to go, Mom," Davis said.

"You may think so," Bram growled, "but by the time we camp this afternoon, your mother is going to be extremely sorry she didn't choose the other alternative."

"I think she was afraid you wouldn't guide us if she told you she couldn't ride," Davis said.

She was right, Bram thought. He wouldn't have. His annoyance with her was mixed with reluctant admiration for her tenacity. Vala just wasn't the kind who gave up, even when the odds were against her.

"We'll walk the horses for the next stretch and give them a rest," he said, aware he was doing it for Vala's sake. The horses weren't anywhere near ridden out but neither she nor Davis would know that. While she'd find walking painful, it wouldn't hurt as much as getting back into the saddle. They went on, Vala hobbling gamely along, leading Susie Q. Bram decided that Mac must have had a sixth sense about Vala's non-existent riding skills because the mare was the most amiable and tractable horse in his corral. Susie Q would never take advantage of her rider.

Near noon he called a halt for lunch and they ate the cheese sandwiches put up for them at Brenden's, Vala leaning against a rocky outcropping rather than trying to sit. When they were ready to go on, he hoisted her into the saddle, watching her bite her lip rather than moan as her aching muscles protested.

When they finally reached the spot where, revising his original plans, he'd decided to camp for the night it was only three in the afternoon but he knew she couldn't go on much longer. He'd originally figured three days in and three days out but now he added two additional days to his estimate. Food wouldn't be a problem because he always brought more than he expected to need.

After Davis helped Bram with the horses, they put up the tent where the boy and his mother would sleep. "It sure goes faster with four hands than it does with two," Bram told him when they finished. "Thanks."

Davis nodded, flushing with pleasure, then turned to look at Vala who was sprawled on a sleeping bag, eyes closed. "Do you think she'll feel better tomorrow?"

"Some, anyway."

"Where's your tent?" Davis asked.

"I like looking up at the stars so I don't use a tent unless it rains."

"I've slept outside before," Davis said. "At camp. I don't need to be in the tent with my mom."

"For her sake you should be tonight at least," Bram told him. "She might need you."

"Yeah, you're right."

Vala heard them talking but, in her relief at being able to stretch out at last, she didn't bother to pay attention to what they said until Davis knelt beside her, insisting she take a pill, claiming that Bram said it would help her.

"Mr. Hunter," she mumbled reflexively.

"He says on the trail we use first names."

She opened her eyes and Davis showed her the pill. "Ibu-something," he said. "It's for sore muscles." "Ibuprofen." She raised herself onto one elbow, swallowed the pill with a sip of water, then fell back onto the sleeping bag and didn't move again until sunset, when it was time to eat Bram's camp stew served with biscuits and hot tea.

She managed to walk to the camp fire by herself, where she sat on a folded sleeping bag, her back propped against a second rolled-up bag while she ate.

"Tonight's lesson," Bram announced, "is what to do if you get lost."

"You serve lessons with the meals?" she asked.

"Our walking wounded must be mending," Bram said to Davis. "She's beginning to talk." Turning to her, he added, "One lesson each evening--you might call it dessert."

"A kid at my camp got lost on a hike once," Davis said. "He wandered around until he came to a road and some guy on one of those big Harleys gave him a ride back to camp."

"We don't have any bikers in the Superstitions," Bram said, "so listen up. Rule 1. As soon as you know you're lost, stop, sit down and try to figure out where you are in relation to where you came from. Use your head, not your legs. Rule 2. If you have no idea where you are, make camp in a nearby sheltered spot. Rule 3. Don't wander. If you must move, travel downhill. Rule 4. If you're hurt, try to light a fire and make a smoke signal. Rule 5. Don't yell, run, or get panicky. And never give up."

Vala closed her eyes and let his words flow over her, thinking that when he wasn't angrily growling, Bram's deep voice was really quite soothing.

When Bram finished, he and Davis cleaned up, leaving her sitting alone by the fire. If she didn't try to move, she was fairly comfortable. But then Davis returned, asking for his sleeping bag, the one she was leaning against.

"I'm going to turn in, Mom," he said. "We've been climbing all day and the higher elevation makes you tired, you know."

She didn't argue, aware that, though he might be using it as an excuse for feeling sleepy so early in the evening, he actually was telling the truth. He took his sleeping bag to the tent, leaving her still sitting but now uncomfortably. She was trying to gather the energy as well as the courage-- it was going to hurt--to clamber to her feet when Bram came back to the fire carrying her unrolled sleeping bag and the old gray sweat suit she'd tucked inside it.

"You planning to sleep in these?" he asked.

Taken aback, she stammered, "Uh--yes."

He dropped the clothes on her lap. "Get into them." Before she could think what to do or say, he walked off, making it clear he didn't plan to stay and watch.

She shrugged, wincing at the soreness in her shoulders, and thought, why not? I have to get undressed sooner or later and it'll be easier here than in the tent.

When Bram returned, she was standing with the sweats on and trying to decide if she could manage to bend over and retrieve the clothes she'd discarded. He knelt and rolled her clothes into a bundle, then smoothed her sleeping bag. "Lie on this," he ordered.

She stared at him in confusion.

He half-smiled and pulled a tube from his jacket pocket. "Liniment. Good for sore muscles. Don't forget you have to get back on Susie Q tomorrow."

Vala grimaced at the thought.

"This liniment won't cure you," he added, "but you have my personal guarantee it'll help."

Deciding she couldn't feel any worse, Vala eased herself down onto the sleeping bag, lying on her stomach. She tensed when he lifted her sweat shirt and put his hand on her bare back.

"Relax," he ordered.

She tried to obey. His hands were warm, the liniment cool at first, then, as he rubbed it in, pleasantly hot.

He kneaded her muscles with an incredibly gentle touch.

"That feels good," she murmured, thinking, as he went on to her lower back, that perhaps it felt a little too good for her peace of mind.

Good wasn't exactly the word he'd choose, Bram thought as his hands stroked the curve of her hip. When he decided the liniment might help her, it hadn't occurred to him just what the treatment was going to do to him.

Her skin was so soft and smooth, satiny under his fingers and when he cupped her rounded buttocks he found himself imagining her in his arms, tight against him while he held her like this.

Keep your mind on what you're doing, Hunter, he warned himself as desire began to throb insistently through him. You're supposed to be a masseur at the moment, not a lover. Why was touching Vala different than touching any other woman? Because she'd been a mystery he'd never had a chance to solve?

He'd thought he came on this trip for the kid's sake, but he had to admit that sure as hell wasn't the way it looked now.