“Jesus,” Coop shook his head. “So, Natalie’s tendency to rush Hell with a bucket of water is genetic.”
“That and her allergic reaction to cops,” Mac said.
“By the way, Coop …” Butch grinned at Mac in the mirror. “How were Natalie’s allergies last night?”
Coop turned in his seat, looking from Mac to Butch with one raised eyebrow. “Who did you two put your money on?”
Natalie must have told Coop about the bet that was going on at the bar while the two were playing pool.
“Good ol’ Mac was behind you all of the way last night,” Butch said. “Figuring you for a gentleman.”
“What about you?” Coop shot back.
“Natalie is stubborn as hell and hard to tear down. I put my money on her strength.”
“I can’t fault you for that.”
“No hard feelings on the bet,” Mac told Coop. “Claire started the whole game to have fun with Natalie. Besides, she was on your side.”
“Really?”
“Claire’s been in your corner since you blew into town.”
“I’ll remember that the next time she comes to Deadwood and ends up in the back of a police car. What about you? Whose corner are you in today?”
“I’m not picking corners. I have my own broken fence to fix.”
Butch leaned forward. “What broken fence are you talking about?”
“I’m tired of the commute between Tucson and Jackrabbit Junction.”
“That is a hell of a drive to do too often. Claire isn’t willing to meet you halfway?”
“Yes, but that’s not a long-term solution. To be honest, I’m not sure I want what Tucson has to offer anymore.”
There. He’d finally said it aloud. It felt good to get it off his chest.
In the mirror, Butch’s brows drew together. “What do you want?”
“Something with lasting potential.” Including Claire and a wedding ring, but one hurdle at a time.
“What do you do in Tucson?” Coop asked.
Mac gave Coop the quick version of his job, ending with, “I can’t push for Claire to come to Tucson permanently because she will.”
“I don’t understand the problem then.”
“Claire has already told me that if I asked her to, she’d put my job in front of her family and her happiness here.”
“That’s no good over time,” Butch said.
“Right.” Claire would end up resenting him.
Mac steered over another section of washboard-like rutted road, waiting until it smoothed out to continue. “I have a decision to make. Do I walk away from my career after six years of college and a decade and a half of employment with the same company for a woman who suffers from commitment phobia? Do I give up good money and a nice house in Tucson for an uncertain future and a spare room in my aunt’s place in Jackrabbit Junction?”
“That’s a lot of blood, sweat, and years invested in a career,” Coop said.
“But you’d have Claire,” Butch threw in.
“Maybe. That commitment phobia issue offers no guarantees.”
The three of them were quiet for a moment looking out at the desert.
“I had a similar decision to make years ago,” Butch said. “Only there was no woman. Should I leave a prosperous business with my brother in the city for a rundown bar in the middle of the desert? In the end, the need to escape to a place where life seemed easier won.”
Mac chewed on that. “Now look at you, Mr. Easy Street. A busy bar and a kid on the way.”
“Don’t forget the ‘bad mama jama’ keeping me on my toes,” Butch added with a grin.
They rounded a bend in the road and for a short time Mac could see the opening for the mine in the hillside. He slowed and pointed it out. Butch had been up to the mine with Mac before, but they’d gone through the booby-trapped front entrance that time, and Mac had paid the price with a dislocated shoulder.
“You really think Joe was keeping this mine a secret?” Coop asked. “Or was it just a dud property not worth the work to try to sell it?”
Mac shrugged, hitting the gas again. “If we find something hidden in the mine today, then I’ll lean toward the secret theory.”
“Joe has a history of hiding stolen goods in his mines,” Butch explained.
“What sort of stolen goods?”
Mac told Coop the abbreviated version of Joe’s history, focusing on the items tied to the mines that Joe had owned, the same mines that now belonged to Ruby. Mac skipped over the additional pinched pieces Claire had found stashed around the campground, keeping in mind her paranoia about the law barging in and making life hell for his aunt.
“And you think something might be up there?” Coop asked.
“Maybe. Or it could be just a human coyote hideout.”
“If that’s the case,” Butch said, “we’ll need to find some sort of evidence of human trafficking. According to Grady, Dick Webber won’t allow the law to cross his property without a search warrant.”
Grady must have told Butch about his run-in recently with Dick at the gas station. The old rancher was hard core that way. He’d snuck up on Claire and Mac the last time they’d come out this way, catching them on the way up to the mine. Lucky for them, Dick had taken a shine to Claire and ended up helping out by showing them the “other” entrance—the one Mac was headed toward today.
He started watching for the grove of mesquite where Dick had told him to park last time. It had been dark during that visit, though, so everything looked different in the light of day. They’d have to hike the remaining distance up to the mine, but it was only another
