Alek

Day two of Gold Rush Revenge consisted of a strenuous eight-mile trek leading into the heart of the Trinity Alps. The gain in elevation usually garnered complaints from even my most outdoorsy clients. I expected the same of my spa squad, particularly from their leader, but Verity began the new day as though she'd been possessed by the spirit of a mountaineer. She abstained from all forms of complaints, insults, and cynicism, including having to dig a hole to do her business—something that had been met with shock a day earlier. Not only did she seem almost cheerful, but she even added to the Buckshot Barney narrative.

"So, why do we call this treasure hunt Gold Rush Revenge?" I asked them a few hours after we'd packed up camp and headed out.

We'd stopped for a short break at a lookout with panoramic views of the permanent snow field marking Thompson Peak's steep east face. Flora and Macy's hands shot up. And so did the hand of my formerly belligerent student. "Verity?"

"Samuel Cleaver," she replied, a gleam in her eyes as she took in my surprise expression.

"And who was he?"

"He killed Buckshot Barney, supposedly over a woman named Annie, but that storyline is just the usual misogynistic bullshit, blaming men's bad behavior on women; there's no historical evidence of that being true, or that Annie even existed. What is known, however, is that Cleaver was one of the prospectors Barney had stolen from. And Cleaver was not the forgiving sort."

"Impressive," I said, wishing that weren't the truth. "Well done."

"Do I have more gold stars than Flora now?"

Flora punched her playfully on the shoulder as I continued my spiel. "Eventually, Cleaver was arrested for Barney's murder, but not before he had the opportunity to search for the lost gold. Some say he even found it. Here's a facsimile of a letter Cleaver wrote to his cousin in San Francisco detailing the trail he took to find the treasure." I passed a laminated sheet of paper to Macy, who studied it for a moment before handing it to Flora.

"Unfortunately," I continued, "We only have the first page of his letter. The other pages were lost in an 1861 housefire two years after Barney's murder. That fire also claimed the life of Cleaver's cousin."

"None of that information was online." Flora stared hard at the facsimile.

"The internet doesn't know everything," Verity said.

Both pleased and wary of Verity's sudden turn about, I nodded. "You must dig deep for this sort of information. My company has scoured archives, talked to local history societies and museums; we've even interviewed descendants. A treasure hunt isn't all adventure. A lot of it is research."

"I suppose." Flora still looked skeptical, as well she should. Norvin's eighty-year-old aunt, a longtime Aurum Venari member, had fabricated the original first page of the letter she now held in her hand.

"As for Cleaver himself, no one can say for sure whether his revenge ended with Buckshot Barney's killing, or if it extended to him recovering his stolen gold. He died in prison of consumption in January 1862. If he had found the gold, it doesn't seem like he or anyone in his family benefited. His wife and five children lived a humble existence after his arrest and subsequent death. No lavish purchases or travel. Only a small clapboard home and relentless work to make ends meet."

'The good news is that means the gold might still be here," Macy said.

"Hold on." Martin handed the letter back to me. "If Cleaver took this same path and he didn't locate it, why would we?"

I pointed ahead on the trail. "We'll have to keep going to find out."

If any of them were nervous about last night's supposed stalker, the only indication was Flora looking over her shoulder on occasion. The vote to continue this morning had been unanimous after Verity explained she was paying for this excursion and wanted to see it through. After that, not a word was mentioned. I had to remind myself that last night hadn't been a dream; Chip might very well be out there, biding his time until he could get to Verity.

By midafternoon, everyone manifested various states of dishevelment. Time to let my clients take the lead. I handed my map to Flora and my compass to Verity.

"Be careful with it," I told her. "It was my father's."

"Your father's." She held it in her palm like it was an egg and ran her finger along its smooth outer rim. "Why'd he give it to you? Doesn't he need it anymore?"

"No, he doesn't. And he didn't give it to me. Not directly. It was left as part of his estate." I thought of the wolf clock in Verity's dining room. She didn't have to tell me its provenance for me to know it had been passed to her from her mother's side.

"Oh. Oh, wow. I'm sorry, I didn't know." She held it out to me. "You should keep it."

I pressed against her outstretched hand until she took it back. "You can return it when this treasure hunt is done. Until then, use it to guide us in the right direction."

"Bad idea." Biting her lip, she stared at the compass. "I don't know what the right direction is."

"Yes, you do."

"What if I get us lost?"

"Would I let that happen?"

She raised her chin, taking in my infamous dimples. Her expression remained serious. "Is us getting lost part of your game?"

"Is that what you think this is? A game?"

"Answering a question with a question is something liars do."

And with that statement...the snark was back. Happy to hike but unhappy it had to be with me, apparently. She squared her shoulders and stood her ground in front of me. "If you must know, Alek, I think this is more than a treasure hunt. I think you want something besides a paycheck. Something from me."

She wasn't wrong. I did want something from her. Damned if in that moment I didn't almost come out with it. The urge to have all that darkness revealed under the boiling sun made the skin on the back of my neck heat.

No.

I couldn't let myself do it. It would blow my cover and scare her off.

I had to play this cool.

"It's true." I tightened my jaw and removed all traces of a smile from my face. This was serious business. "I'm here for the adventure too. And to make sure you're safe. I'm still your bodyguard."

Our eyes locked. The heat on my neck spread out in all directions.

"Hello?" Flora waved a hand in between us. "The rest of us are standing right here. I can't tell if you guys are about to climb each other or kill each other, but maybe don't do either in front of us?"

"Especially in front of your father," Verity's father said.

Spell broken; I mustered the willpower to turn away from her and we continued. Verity hung the compass around her neck from its leather cord. I tried not to stare as it bounced against her chest while she walked.

Near mile six, we reached a rocky outcropping that seemed like it might be the end of the trail. After considerable debate, my two new co-leaders determined we should lower ourselves onto a wide ledge, then head north-northwest.

"According to the map, the path should pick back up in a quarter of a mile," Flora said, peering over the edge. "Oh, it's not as scary as I thought it would be."

Verity went first, scrambling down six feet of lose rock onto the ledge and by the time the rest of us joined her, she'd used my father's compass to point us in the right direction. A few hours later, we'd found our way to that night's camp, exhausted but pleased at the day's progress.

"We still rotating a watch?" Martin asked me as we got ready to turn in.

"Probably a good idea." There'd been no sign of our would-be pursuer all day. Still, the thought of Chip, if he was out there, tearing into camp to claim his supposed mate put me on edge.

Martin seemed to agree. "All right. This time, though, don't let Verity take my shift. Wake me up. I don't care if you have to throw a bucket of water on my head."

Another night under the stars, wondering if I was doing the right thing. Could AV, so hellbent on one particular outcome with Verity, have freed Chip so they could use him to achieve their aim? How much danger were we all in if that were the case? And would Verity be the cause of that danger, or the victim of it?

I kicked my boot against a stump, letting it feel the full wrath of my frustration. Things had been simpler when I was convinced of who was right and who was wrong. Now, I had to live with confusion, when all I wanted was for the truth to come out.

At one, I opened the tent I shared with Martin and shook him awake. Rubbing his eyes, he scrambled out of his sleeping bag. Boots on, he exited the tent a minute later. Before I'd had a chance to drift off, a muffled voice jolted me upright.

"Is Verity out here, or, you know... is she, um... maybe in the tent with Alek?"

I entertained the fantasy of Verity in my tent—in my sleeping bag—for all of a second before I realized what Macy's question was really indicating. I poked my head outside. "Isn't she with you and Flora?" The three women shared the larger of the two tents.

Macy shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "I woke up and she was gone."

This didn't make sense. I'd been watching over the camp the whole time. How could she have slipped away? Or had she been taken?

Whatever the case, she couldn't have gotten too far. My hands shook as I forced my feet back into my boots.

All I wanted was for the truth to come out.

As it turned out, the truth was a lot closer at hand, and a lot more unbelievable than I'd imagined.

___

Author's note: What is this truth that's about to come out? Did Verity leave camp of her own accord... or was she taken?

Either way... something big is about to come down!

Thanks for your ongoing support! XOXOXO