Page 62 of The Promise
There was logic here. She gasped as the light finally clicked on in her brain. "They're in order, Michael. He's put them in order."
She turned to look at him. He was frowning at the paintings, obviously struggling to follow her train of thought.
"I painted them randomly, as the light changed or the spirit moved me. But these are hung in specific order. As if they were a map. See, he's grouped them using the sun. East to west. Michael, he's trying to find the Promise."
"You're saying he stole your paintings to use them as a map?"
"Yup. I know it sounds crazy, but you have to remember that the Promise has been considered a lost mine for at least ninety years. I found it totally by accident. And if the light hadn't been just right, I'm not sure I'd have seen it at all."
"But even if I accept that as true, why in the world would Nick be going to such extremes to find an old abandoned mine? The Promise played out four years ago. Hell, just under a hundred and fifteen years your time."
She cringed at the confusion and bitterness playing across his face.
"It doesn't make sense, Cara."
"I know. But Nick is a deliberate man. So there is logic here. We're just not seeing it."
Michael stared up at the paintings. "You never actually told me about Nick Vargas."
"I guess we kind of got side-tracked." She focused on Nick, letting her mind pull together what she knew about him. "Nick's dad owned the bar before he did, and to hear Nick tell it, he practically grew up there, hanging on the words of the old timer—men who'd lived through Silverthread's glory days. That's where he got his interest in history."
She reached for a thin book on the desk. "This is his.Silverthread Boom to Bust. It chronicles Silverthread's rise andfall, so to speak." She flipped open the book to a photograph of a tin-starred lawman, his angelic continence at odds with his steely-eyed gaze.
She shivered, closing the book and dropping it back on the desk. "Anyway, I don't think his life was a good one. His father drank, and I think he slapped Nick around some. But I don't know for sure. It was all a long time ago. Most of it before I was even born. Nick talked about it some, but only a little."
Michael frowned, his mind obviously working on the puzzle. "None of that ties him directly to the mine, yet he seems to be obsessed with it. Why?"
She crossed to the desk, randomly picking up one of the books and leafing through it to the index. Turning to the P's she ran her finger down the list until she found the entry she wanted. Flipping back to the referenced page, she scanned the paragraph about the mine, feeling Michael's breath on her cheek as he looked over her shoulder.
"What does it say?"
"Not a lot. A version of the story about your mother. With the added caveat that neither Zach nor Rose was ever seen again."
Michael's eyes hardened. "Best for all, I'd say."
Cara reached for his hand. "This book is right, Michael. Anything could have happened to them." She read further. "It goes on to say that the silver was never recovered and is considered by some lost treasure. Could that be what Nick was looking for? The silver?"
Michael blew out a breath. "You said it yourself, Nick is a deliberate man. He'd have to have something more than a legend to go on. Besides there's no silver at the mine. My mother and Zach took it with them. The reason it was never found was that they spent it." His last words came out flat and harsh, colored with bitterness.
Cara wanted to hold him. to make him see that not everyone was as callus as his mother had been, but now was not the time.
"I think we should go. Vargas could be back any minute."
She nodded, and put the book back on the table, managing to knock a map onto the floor at the same time. Reaching down to pick it up, she noticed a slip of paper stuck between the back of the desk and the wall.
"Wait a minute, there's something down here." She slid her hand behind the desk and came up with a tattered newspaper article.
Gooseflesh broke out along her arms as she read the faded print.
Macpherson Killedin Gunfight
Silverthread, Colorado. Patrick Macpherson was shot and killed yesterday in gunfire exchanged at his ranch, Clune. Macpherson, 21, was fleeing Sheriff Amos Striker at the time. Striker was attributed with firing the fatal shot. Macpherson stood accused of murdering two Silverthread prostitutes.
A lifetime resident of the valley, Macpherson surprised everyone with his duplicity. Owen Prescott, a close family friend, attributes the change to the recent death of his father, Duncan, and disappearance of his brother, Michael.
Duncan Macpherson was found stabbed to death along the road to Clune two days before his son was killed. Sheriff Striker suspected that Macpherson's older brother Michael might have killed his father in an argument over a silver strike. However, in light of recent events, suspicion has now turned to Patrick. "I don't believe any of this," Prescott said. "It's all so tragic."
Instability seems to run in the family. Duncan was a known drunk and womanizer, and Macpherson's mother Rose ran away with her lover years back, reportedly taking a smallfortune in silver with her. Although this latest transgression fits the family profile, it comes as a surprise to those who knew Macpherson.
