Beneath her palm his hand shook. “Does beating yourself up over something you couldn’t stop make you feel better?”

  He tensed, jerked away and vaulted to his feet. Glaring down at her, he curled his fingers into fists. “Is this your way of consoling someone?”

  “Is that what you want? I know firsthand it doesn’t make you feel better.” Slowly she stood, her muscles screaming with the exertion. “Pamela died four years ago, and you haven’t been able to move on because you blame yourself for something you didn’t cause.”

  “I shouldn’t have brought her. She didn’t understand the dangers. I should—”

  Kit held up her hand. “Stop. Quit coming up with reasons you should blame yourself. It won’t bring your wife back. Ask yourself instead would she have wanted you to retreat from life because of what happened? Why are you trying to carry it all on your shoulders? Let the Lord help you. If you let Him, He’ll walk beside you and take the burden from you.”

  “You don’t understand!” Arms stiff at his sides, Hawke flexed his hands.

  “I do. More than you know. You think I didn’t go through the blame stage after Gregory’s death. I could have loaned him more money. Then maybe he could have paid off his gambling debts and not been murdered that day. You don’t think I didn’t feel guilty when I listened to my mother cry herself to sleep because my father had left her even though he never paid attention to her and barely paid the bills. I was glad he was gone. We were free. Yes, it was hard for us, but I didn’t have to cower and hide from him when he started drinking.”

  His glare homed in on her face. “What happened with you was different.”

  “Not really. My guilt did a number on me for a long time even after I discovered Gregory had another girlfriend. Thankfully I had a friend knock some sense into me. He convinced me to turn my troubles over to the Lord. Once I did, it made all the difference in the world. It can for you, too.”

  With a violent shake of his head, Hawke pivoted and stalked off. As he passed his uncle returning to the campsite, he murmured something to him, then kept going while the old man shuffled toward her.

  “My nephew can be stubborn.”

  “I’ve discovered that.” She finger-combed her hair, then decided to search for the brush she’d brought.

  “I hope he listens to you. I tried telling him he couldn’t stop what happened. Some things are inevitable, like the sun rising each day.” He grinned. “That’s why I decided to show you the way into the canyon.”

  “He has to want to let go.”

  “He does. He just doesn’t know it yet.” Gus ambled to his sleeping bag and rolled it up.

  A few minutes later Hawke strolled back into camp, a blank expression on his face as though they hadn’t shared any painful memories. “We need to get going. We’ll eat while walking.”

  His hurried movements spoke of a man running from his past. Having dealt with her emotions surrounding Gregory and his betrayal, the guilt over her father, she knew Hawke wasn’t ready, might never be. Some memories were easier to keep buried because examining them might reveal too much.

  * * *

  The Guardian sat in Kit’s home among her possessions. Her new alarm code hadn’t foiled him, since he’d had the foresight to install cameras at the two entrances of her house. Didn’t she know he was too smart for her to do that?

  He didn’t like the fact he didn’t know what she was doing. That bothered him more than her trying to keep him out of her place. He needed to protect her, and yet he couldn’t because she was inaccessible in the canyon.

  Lonechief kissed her! He’d tried to erase that image from his mind. He couldn’t.

  His anger boiled to the surface, having festered for a day since he’d hiked back to civilization. What was Kit doing? What was Lonechief doing?

  He’s a murderer. Doesn’t she see that? She’s too good for him. Again the picture of her locked in Lonechief’s embrace seared even more into his thoughts.

  Foolish woman. Putting herself in harm’s way. Making him have to do things he didn’t want to.

  The Guardian shot to his feet, fury engulfing him. He paced from one end of her bedroom to the other. Finally he couldn’t contain his rage. He thrust open her closet and began yanking her clothes from the hangers.

  * * *

  Although Kit wore a wide-brimmed hat while they hiked farther into the canyon, her face felt on fire, as if the sun seared through the canvas material to scorch her skin. She sought any bit of shade there was. With the heat draining her energy, Kit trudged forward, forcing herself to keep going.

  Not far ahead, a sheer cliff, rising hundreds of feet into the air, jutted upward in grandeur. The sun striking its rocky, red surface made it appear as though it was on fire, too. Bare, with little growing on it, she knew they had reached their destination because Coronado’s lieutenant had described encountering a wall of flames. Some people had thought that had been the talk of a deranged man, but she now knew this was what he’d meant.

  Scanning the area at the end of a small canyon off the main one, she certainly understood why no one came this way. She’d had to squeeze through another narrow passage, then climb over mounds of boulders littering the ground. Hawke had told her that it had been an ancient rockslide.

  Hawke came to her side and pointed. “Around this bend are the ruins of the mission.”

  Gus disappeared ahead.

  “This has got to be it.” Kit quickened her steps, eager to investigate while there was daylight. “Why else build a mission in the middle of nowhere unless there was a good reason.”

  “And you think gold is the reason?” Hawke, a pace behind her, asked.

  “As you’ve told me, it’s a powerful motivator.”

  Kit rounded the bend and halted. Mounds of adobe brick, crumbling walls and vegetation growing among the ruins spread before her. Moving slowly forward, she could hardly believe this chaos at one time was a Spanish mission. And yet on closer examination, she could make out part of the perimeter of the structure that had stood in the canyon hundreds of years ago.

  “The elements haven’t been too kind to the mission,” she murmured almost to herself, but Hawke heard even though he was yards away.

  “Nothing out here survives for long if it isn’t taken care of. The Spanish didn’t stay.”

  “In Lieutenant Diego’s papers he didn’t talk about why he left.” Kit made a full circle. “But looking at the location of the mission, I can’t imagine it being very accessible, especially back in the 1500s. Which poses the question, why did they build a mission here unless he felt the City of Gold was nearby?”

  “Questions you may never have answers for.” Hawke covered the space between them.

  “They didn’t stay more than two years. An Indian uprising drove them out of here.”

  “I’m surprised they would stay that long. The isolation and relentless heat could drive a lot of men mad.”

  “Exactly. So what kept an ambitious man like Lieutenant Diego in a place forsaken by most?”

  “The City of Gold?”

  “I’m hoping so.” Kit searched the ruins. “Where’s Gus?”

  “He’s scouting the area. Since we’ll be staying the night, he’ll find the best camping place.”

  “Did he know about the mission?”

  “Yes. There isn’t anything around here he doesn’t know about.” He swept his arm wide, indicating the terrain. “This has been his playground all his life.”

  “A big one,” Kit said with a laugh.

  “He didn’t know the mission’s history. Nothing was passed down about it, which is strange in itself. This canyon system isn’t taboo, but most stay away from here. The Spaniards may have named this Desolation Canyon, but my people have always referred to it as Forsaken Canyon.”

  Glancing toward the sun beginning its descent, Kit shrugged out of her backpack. “I’d better use what time I have.” She rummaged in her belongings until she withdrew her digital camera.

  “Be careful. Rattlesnakes are here as well as at Black Horse Pass.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” She grimaced.

  She began by walking around the perimeter to get a feel for the mission’s size and to snap pictures. Small, its back wall abutted the canyon bluff. When she knelt in its shade, she discovered the wall was the cliff. Why? The Indians used the land as part of their structures, but usually the Spanish didn’t.

  “You said there’s evidence Indian ruins are beneath the mission. Where?” Kit asked Hawke as he approached her.

  He pointed to an area that had washed away. “Those are pot shards. Indian. Not anything the Spanish would have made.”

  Kit touched the largest piece and noticed faint geometric symbols on it.

  “Where the ground has eroded there is evidence all over this site of the Indians’ presence.” Hawke indicated a couple of other places.

  Awed by the ancient artifact, Kit put the shard back exactly how she’d found it. She wasn’t an archaeologist and didn’t want to disturb the ruins any more than she needed, especially if this was where the Lost City of Gold was.

  “Where do you think the altar and sanctuary were located in this?” Kit stood and dusted off her knees, taking a photo of the piece of pottery lying on the ground.

  “If it’s a typical mission, it should be there.” Rising, he indicated a mound of adobe bricks several feet away. “But as you stated this isn’t a typical mission. I didn’t find any evidence there.” He twisted around and walked a few steps to the cliff. “I think they used this slab as an altar.”

  The stone jutted out of the bluff’s facade. Examining it, Kit noticed its surface had been smoothed, almost leveled. Strange, if that was the altar. What else didn’t quite add up?

  Eager to investigate the site, Kit surveyed the rest of the deteriorated mission, and recorded it with her camera. With Hawke not far from her, she maneuvered around collapsed piles to bring herself to what she thought was the middle of the Spanish structure.

  “This was definitely one of their smaller missions, but considering its isolation I can understand why. What I found, though, was that the army that accompanied Diego was large. For this kind of mission that’s unusual. Why did he volunteer to establish a mission here?” Kit spread her arms wide. “Why such an out-of-the-way place? And why the large army of soldiers?”

  “You think they were protecting a find?”

  Kit glanced at Hawke slightly behind her. “Maybe.”

  “If the Lost City of Gold is nearby, then why doesn’t the whole world know?”

  “Because I think the lieutenant kept it a secret from the Spanish government, his own private stash.”

  “Wouldn’t that be difficult to hide when he returned to Spain?”

  “That’s the interesting part. He died a pauper not long after he returned, and he was the only person who left this canyon alive. Some thought he was a raving madman who had been in the desert too long. The name Desolation Canyon came from him.”

  “You think he found and lost the City of Gold?”

  Kit nodded.

  “Then all this might only be a staging area for a hunt, and the city is nowhere near here.”

  “Possibly. But I have to know for sure.” She swung around. “I just had a thought. What happened to all the men with Diego? Were there any bones or skeletons found here over the years?”

  “Not that I know of. At least not in this century. What did Diego say in his writings?” Frowning, Hawke looked around him.

  “The only thing he wrote was that some of his men died of an unknown disease. There wasn’t anything else.”

  Her curiosity aroused, Kit turned back in the direction of the cliff wall with the altar. She stepped forward, intending to go back and take a closer look. Nothing added up. Something wasn’t right. This was the place. She could feel it.

  Scaling over some rubble, in her haste she put her foot in a crevice. She tugged but was trapped. Staring down, she yanked up hard on her leg. The fissure released its hold, and she fell back, hitting the earth with a bone-wrenching impact. Suddenly the ground beneath her gave away. She plummeted.

  “Hawke!” she screamed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Kit’s scream lacerated Hawke like a knife. He dived toward her, trying desperately to grab her. His fingers clutched air. Scrambling on all fours, he plunged his arm into the black rift in the earth, opening and closing his hand to grasp any part of Kit. Nothing.

  Like Pamela. Why, Lord? Why again?

  Inching forward, his heartbeat booming in his ears, he stuck his head over the hole. Stale, musky air, embellished with a dank, earthy scent, accosted his nostrils. “Kit! Kit, are you okay?”

  Please, Lord, let her be alive.

  * * *

  Kit slipped downward in a hail of dirt. She tried to yell again, but soil instantly poured into her mouth. She spat the filth out, its metallic, foul taste choking her.

  Crashing against something immovable, she bounced off and continued to descend. Pain radiated outward from the contact, threatening to swamp her. Blackness engulfed her.

  * * *

  “Kit. Answer me. Please.”

  Still nothing from the dark gap.

  Hawke leaped to his feet and clambered over mounds of decaying mission. When he reached his backpack, he tore it open and dumped its contents on the ground. Snatching up his coil of rope and flashlight, he hurried back to the orifice that had swallowed Kit while his uncle ran toward him.

  As Hawke searched for somewhere to tie the rope, he shouted over and over, “Kit, are you okay?”

  * * *

  Kit banged into another stationary object and clutched it to still her descent. The collision knocked the breath out of her. Stars burst before her eyes. Her lungs burned.

  Tightening her grip around what felt like a stone pillar, she cleaved to it with the last of her strength. She inhaled a deep breath of the dusty air, trying to ease the constriction about her chest. But instead coughs seized her.

  “Kit, are you okay?”

  She heard Hawke’s voice through the ringing in her ears and focused on the deep, gruff sound of it.

  “Yes.” She wasn’t sure if she said the word aloud or not. Her head spun from the dizzying drop.

  “Hang on. I’m coming to get you.”

  Hang on? She hoped she could.

  The faint sunlight from above didn’t illuminate the area around her. Everywhere she looked darkness greeted her. The muscles in her arms quivered from fatigue. More coughs further abused her body. Again she tried to rid her mouth and throat of the taste of earth, but it lingered.

  Father, I need You. Help! Give me strength.

  His presence surrounded her in a calming cloak. Closing her eyes, she basked in His love and power. Hawke would save her. He would be the Lord’s instrument.

  Slowly she took deep breaths and filled her lungs, easing the racing of her heart. She locked her fingers together to secure her hold on the pillar. Using her right leg, she felt the spot around her. When her foot encountered a drop-off, she pulled it back and clung tighter to the stone.

  Gradually the glow from above grew and came nearer. She concentrated on Hawke lowering himself, confident he could get her out of this situation safely.

  As the light invaded her dark world, she surveyed the ledge she was on. Beyond it, the ebony shroud still reigned. What is this? A cave below the mission?

  The stuffy air, cooler than what was above ground, hinted at a mystery beyond. The fact Hawke’s flashlight couldn’t penetrate the black enough for her to make out her surroundings reinforced her conviction this was a cave or a mine, perhaps a large one. Was this connected to the Lost City of Gold?

  Had the Indians known about it? Probably. Their command of their domain had been impressive. How about the Spanish conquerors? So many questions flew through her mind that her sore muscles diminished in importance.

  “Kit?”

  “I’m over here.” She peered toward Hawke, only yards above her and to the right.

  He swung his flashlight in her direction. Its rays inched toward her and finally touched her. “Don’t move. You’re on a small ledge.”

  “I know. I’m not going anywhere.” She fixed her gaze on Hawke, relieved to see him.

  If she were interested in a relationship, he would be perfect—caring, intriguing, complicated, never dull. Whoa! A relationship! Where had that thought come from?

  The light bathed her in the knowledge that he was so close she could almost touch him. Now that she saw how small the shelf was, she was amazed that she had ended up on it. She scooted closer to the pillar, where it was wider, to give him room.

  Dangling from the rope, Hawke hovered above her for a long moment as he swept his flashlight around, taking note of the stone lip jutting out from an escarpment. His left booted foot brushed the platform first, quickly followed by his right. With his hands still gripping his line, he inched closer to her.

  Her breath trapped in her lungs, she gave him as much space as possible. Now that she could see where she was, she could let go of the pillar, but it had become her safety net, like Hawke’s rope around him.

  Next to her, he squatted against the wall. His smile warmed her. “I have this feeling you’ll want to explore what you’ve discovered.”

  The sound of his voice tingled down her spine. “You know me too well.”

  “Not nearly enough.” He reached out and caressed her cheek with an unsteady hand.

  His husky words mesmerized her. The glint in his eyes charged the space between them as though an electrical storm raged below ground.

  Her already dry mouth became parched. The slowing beat of her pulse increased its speed. On a ledge suspended above an unknown entity, she realized she was in deep trouble, not just physically but emotionally. She was afraid he already had her heart.