Very slowly Mariah worked her way back down the side ravine to the point where she had left her horse. It was waiting patiently, tail turned toward the wind that searched through the main ravine. Mariah tried to mount, fell, and pulled herself to her feet again. No matter how she concentrated, she couldn't get her foot through the stirrup before she lost her balance.
And her pocket was jeering at her again. It had jeered at her before, but she had ignored it.
Mariah realized that it was the cellular phone that was jeering. With numb fingers she groped through the pieces of rock and gold until she kept a grip on the phone long enough to pull it from her pocket and answer. The rings stopped, replaced by the hushed, expectant sound of an open line.
"Mariah? Mariah, it's Cash."
The phone slid through Mariah's fingers. She made a wild grab and caught the unit more by luck than skill.
"Mariah, talk to me. Where are you? Are you warm enough?"
"Clumsy. Sorry." Mariah's voice sounded odd to her own ear. Thick. Slow.
"Where are you?"
"Devil's Peak. But isn't hell warm? I'm warm, too. I think. I was cold after the rain. Now I'm tired."
The words were subtly slurred, as though she had been drinking.
"Are you on the north side of Devil's Peak?" Cash asked, his voice as hard and urgent as the wind.
Mariah frowned down at the phone as she struggled with the concept of direction. Slowly a memory of the map formed in her mind.
"And… west," she said finally.
"Northwest? Are you on the northwest side?"
Mariah made a sound that could have meant anything and leaned against her patient horse. The animal's warmth slowly seeped into her cold skin.
"Are you above timberline?" Cash asked.
"No."
"Are there trees around you?"
"Rocks, too. Gray. Looked like snow. But wasn't."
"Look up the mountains. Can you see me?"
Mariah shook her head. All she could see was the ravine. "Can't." She thought about trying to mount the horse again. "Tired. I need to rest."
"Mariah. Look up the mountain. You might be able to see me."
Grumbling, Mariah tried to climb out of the ravine. Her hands and feet kept surprising her. She persisted. After a while she could at least feel her feet again, and her hands. They hurt. She still couldn't claw her way out of the crumbling ravine, however.
"I can't," she said finally.
"You can't see me?"
"I can't climb out of the ravine." Mariah's voice was clearer. Moving around had revived her. "It's too steep here. And I'm cold."
"Start a fire."
She looked around. There wasn't enough debris in the bottom of the ravine for a fire. "No wood."
She shivered suddenly, violently, and for the first time became afraid.
"Talk to me, Mariah."
"Do you get lonely, too?" Then, before Cash could say anything, she added, "I wish… I wish you could have loved me just a little bit. But it will be all right. I found the mine and now it's yours and now you have to believe me… don't you?" Her voice faded, then came again. "It's so cold. You were so warm. I loved curling up against you. Better each time
… love."
Cash tried to speak but couldn't for the pain choking him. He gripped the phone so hard that his fingers turned white. The next words he heard were so softly spoken that he had a hard time following them. And then he wished he hadn't been able to understand the ragged phrases pouring from Mariah.
"It will be all right… everything will be fine… it will be…"
But Mariah was crying. She no longer believed her own words.
A horse's lonesome whinny drifted up faintly from below. Cash's horse answered. He reined his mount toward the crease in the land where Mariah's tracks vanished. Balancing his weight in the stirrups, he sent his horse down the mountainside at a reckless pace. Minutes later the ravine closed around Cash, shutting out all but a slice of the cloudy sky.
"Mariah!" Cash called. "Mariah!"
There was no answer but that of her horse whinnying its delight into the increasing gloom.
Instants after Cash saw Mariah's horse, he saw the dark splotch of her jacket against the pale swath of granite. He dismounted in a rush and scrambled to Mariah. At the sound of his approach, she pushed herself upright and held out her hands. Quartz crystals and gold gleamed richly in the dying light.
"See? I've p-proved it. Now will you b-believe me?" she whispered.
"All you've proved is that you're a fool," Cash said, picking Mariah up in a rush, ignoring the gold that fell from her hands. "It will be dark in ten minutes – I'm damned lucky I found you at all!"
Mariah tried to say something but couldn't force herself to speak past the defeat that numbed her more deeply than any cold.
Her gift of the gold mine had meant nothing to Cash. He still didn't believe in her. She had risked it all and had nothing to show for it but the contempt of the man she loved.
He was right. She was a fool.
16
Broodingly Cash watched Mariah. In the silence and firelight of the old line shack she looked comfortable despite the stillness of her body. Wearing dry clothes and his down sleeping bag, sitting propped up against the wall, coffee steaming from the cup held between her hands, Mariah was no longer cold. No shivers shook her body. Nor was she clumsy anymore. The pockets bulging with gold-shot rock had been as much to blame for her lack of coordination as the cold.
She's fine, Cash told himself. Any fool could see that. Even this fool. So why do I feel like I should call her on the cellular phone right now?
That's easy, fool. She's never been farther away from you than right now. Your stupidity nearly killed her. You expect her to thank you for that?
Flames burnished Mariah, turning her eyes to incandescent gold, heightening the color that warmth had returned to her skin.
"More soup?" Cash asked, his voice neutral.
"No, thank you."
Her voice, like her words, was polite. Mariah had been very polite since they had come to the line shack. She had protested only once – when he stripped her out of her damp clothes and dressed her in the extra pair of thermal underclothes he had brought in the backpack. When he had ignored her protest, she had fallen silent. She had stayed that way, except when he asked a direct question. Then she replied with excruciating politeness.
Not once had she met his eyes. It was as though she literally could not bear the sight of him. He didn't really blame her. He would break a mirror right now rather than look at himself in it.
"Warm enough?" Cash asked, his voice too rough. It must have been the tenth time he had asked that question in as many minutes, but Mariah showed no impatience.
"Yes, thank you."
Cash hesitated, then asked bluntly, "Any cramps?" That question was new. He heard the soft, ripping sound her breath made as it rushed out.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm fine. Everything is…" The unwitting echo of Mariah's past assurances to herself went into her like a knife. Without finishing the sentence, Mariah took a sip of coffee, swallowed and regained her voice. "Just fine, thank you."
But her eyelids flinched and the hands holding the coffee tightened suddenly, sending a ripple of hot liquid over the side. A few drops fell to the sleeping bag.
"I'm sorry," she said immediately, blotting at the drops with the sleeve of her discarded shirt. "I hope it won't stain."
"Pour the whole cup on it. I don't give a damn about the sleeping bag."
"That's very kind of you."
"Kind? Good God, Mariah. This is me, Cash McQueen, the fool you wanted to marry, not some stranger who just wandered in off the mountain!"