Bands of different rocks made faint patterns on the walls and ceiling and floor. He ran his fingertips over the surface of the ceiling, feeling the marks men had left when they used picks and hammer stones to widen and deepen the natural alcove.
The shelter could have been a mine head, a living space, or a storage area. Near the remains of the ancient fire were pieces of crude pottery and a rotted wooden shape that might have been a spoon. That suggested a cooking fire, which suggested that men had lived in the alcove rather than mined it.
Turning to the leather sack, Reno sat on his heels and poked at the stiff leather weave. Bits of white stone were caught between pieces of leather. Frowning, he looked again at the rock that made up the alcove’s walls and ceilings. No streaks of white caught his eye.
«Is it the mine head?» Eve asked when she could no longer stand the suspense.
«Could be, but it looks more like slave quarters.»
«Oh.»
«See this long strap attached to thetenate?»
«Tenate?What’s that?»
«A sack or basket for carrying ore. See this thick strap? The padded part rested on the slave’s forehead. The rest of the strap went back over his shoulders and attached to the sack.»
Eve frowned. «That’s an odd way to carry anything.»
«It works better than you’d think,» Reno said. «You lean forward and take the weight of thetenateon your forehead and back. That leaves your hands free for mining or climbing or balancing on the chicken ladders. You can carry a hundred pounds like that all day long.»
She looked dubious.
«In fact,» Reno continued, «I’ve carried more than that, back when I was young and foolish enough to try mining rich man’s gold with a poor man’s tools.»
«Maybe you could carry a hundred pounds all day,» Eve said wryly. «I’d be lucky to lug half that for a few hours.»
Reno’s mustache shifted over a quick smile, but he said no more. Instead, he sat on his heels again and began digging at the remains of the woven leather.
«What are you after?» she asked.
«Pieces of ore are still caught in the weave.»
Eagerly Eve bent forward. «Really? Let me see!»
He pried out a piece of the pale, opaque quartz. Whistling softly between his teeth, he turned the fragment of ore over and over on his palm. The jagged bit of quartz was no bigger than the ball of his thumb.
«Pretty, isn’t it?» Reno murmured.
«It is?» Eve asked, unimpressed.
Smiling, Reno turned and held his palm closer to Eve’s eyes.
«See the bright specks mixed in with the white?» he asked.
She nodded.
«That’s gold,» he said.
«Oh.» Eve frowned. «Goodness, it couldn’t have been a very rich mine.»
The disappointment in her voice made Reno laugh out loud. He tugged lightly on a stray lock of her hair.
«Sugar girl, it’s a good thing you dealt a gold prospector that pat hand back in Canyon City. You could have walked right over the strike of a lifetime and not known it.»
«You mean this is worth mining?» Eve asked, flicking her fingernail against the quartz.
«It’s one of the richest pieces of ore I’ve ever seen,» Reno said simply.
Eve gave him a startled look.
«If the vein was more than a few inches thick,» he said, «the Spanish priests had themselves one hell of a gold mine somewhere around here.»
«Somewhere. But where?»
Thoughtfully Reno tucked the ore into his pocket, went to his saddlebags, and pulled out an odd hammer. Shaped like a small pick at one end and a squared-off hammer on the other, the tool was handy for knocking off chunks of rock to see what lay beneath the weathered surface.
Steel rang against stone as Reno raked and gouged at various points along the alcove’s ceiling and walls, testing the different layers of stone. The unweathered fragments that came away were lighter in color than the surface rock, but none was as light as the fragment of ore.
Eve peered at one of the gouges Reno had abandoned.
«Look!» she said suddenly. «Gold!»
Reno didn’t even pause in his hammering. He had already seen and dismissed the flecks of shiny stuff that were exciting Eve.
«Pyrite,» he said. «Fool’s gold.»
Steel rang fiercely against stone.
«Not real gold?» she asked.
«Not real gold,» he answered. «Wrong color.»
«You’re sure.»
«It’s the first thing a prospector learns.»
Rock showered down like a sharp rain. Reno looked at the fresh gouges.
«Slate, through and through,» he muttered.
«Is that good?»
«Only if you’re building a house. Some people fancy a roof or a floor of slate.»
«Do you?» she asked, curious.
He shook his head. «More trouble than it’s worth, far as I’m concerned. Wood is easier, prettier, and smells better.»
Reno went to the back of the alcove where the ceiling sloped sharply down to the rubble pile. He kicked at some of the smaller stones. They were a mixture of the same rock layers that made up the alcove itself.
Putting his fists on his hips, Reno looked at the unpromising stone layers and the equally unpromising meadow beyond the alcove. He and Eve had found all the proof anyone would need that Don Lyon’s Spanish mine existed — except the mine itself. That had eluded them. Nor had Reno been able to find any promising outcroppings of rock.
And during the night, the aspens just above the head of the valley had turned gold. If he was going to find the mine this season, he would have to be quick about it.
«Now what?» Eve asked.
«Now we go over the perimeter of the meadow again. Only, this time, we’ll use the Spanish needles.»
CLOUDS billowed upward in seething mounds turned gold by the afternoon sun. Lightning licked delicately over the face of a distant peak while rain fell in a shining veil. Over everything, even the storm, arched a cobalt blue sky. In the sunlight the temperature was hot enough to raise a sweat. In the shade it was as cool as quick-silver rain.
Reno and Eve appreciated the shade. They had already made one circuit of the valley, to no avail. Walking and keeping the rods in contact had proven to be exacting work. It was also oddly exhilarating, even though nothing had been found. The intangible, eerie currents kept Eve and Reno alert and aware of both each other and the sensuous riches of the high mountain day.
«Once more,» Eve said.
Reno looked at her, sighed, and agreed.
«Once more, sugar girl. Then I’m going to try my hand at catching trout for dinner. That way the whole damn day won’t have been wasted.»
Hobbled horses grazed at the mouth of the meadow, standing sentry even as they ate. When Reno and Eve stepped from the lacy shadows cast by a small stand of aspen, the lineback dun threw up her head to test the air. She quickly recognized their familiar scents and went back to cropping grass.
«Ready?» Eve asked.
Reno nodded.
They moved their hands slightly. Metal notches met. Ghostly currents flowed.
No matter how many times it happened, the tingling, shimmering sensation made Eve’s breath catch. It was the same for Reno, a hesitation in breathing as the world shifted with immense subtlety, making room for the impossible merging of self with other.
«On three,» Reno said in a low voice. «One…two…three.»
Slowly, with carefully matched steps, Reno and Eve worked their way down the margin of the small valley. Hours ago they had started working with the needles here, then had gone on to other parts of the valley.
Only in retrospect had this section of the valley’s perimeter seemed different. Here the needles had been fairly humming. Here they had kicked and shivered and jostled.
Reno and Eve had assumed it was their own lack of skill rather than anything else that had made the needles so twitchy. Now they wondered if it might have been the presence of hidden treasure that had animated the slender dowsing rods.