Water Witch (18 page)

Oh, she could have dealt with the anger well enough. Since she’d met Sam, she seemed to have developed a temper herself. And even though she didn’t like confrontations, she could hold her own. Hadn’t she been the star pupil in the assertiveness training class in college? But she couldn’t tolerate his attack on her self-esteem. It had taken three long years at the University Counseling Center to begin to repair the damage from her father’s abuse, to discover her own self-worth, to learn to believe in herself. But the events of the past two years had begun to erode her confidence, and she refused to allow Sam to undermine it even further. She was not some kind of weirdo, nor was she a silly, simpering female without sense enough to take control of her own life.

She wandered over to the boulder and leaned against it, drinking the strong coffee and looking out over the hills at the lightening sky. As the stars faded, a few wisps of pink began to stain the horizon, and a light breeze carried the sharp scent of evergreen and dew-fresh laurel. Only an occasional rustle in the underbrush marred the absolute stillness on the hard, rock-strewn hill. This place had stood waiting for many a sunrise, had witnessed countless comings and goings. It endured. Changing and adapting, but strong and proud. She had weathered rough spots before; she would again. She would endure as well. She was a survivor.

Even if Sam thought she was a superstitious flake engaged in a fruitless and idiotic venture, she was not stupid. She knew there was water beneath her feet. She believed in Max Strahan, even if he didn’t. Goose Gallagher had more faith in her than Sam did. Well, she and Goose were going to hit that vein, and when they did she was going to thumb her nose at Sam Garrett and get on with her life. It would take more than a soured love affair to stop her.

As Max watched the breaking dawn she focused her thoughts on positive things, dwelling on the future instead of the past, planning how she would spend the money she received from Buck Barton. Why, she might even go to Nashville. Songs about love gone wrong were always popular. She could certainly put her heart into a couple of those.

*    *    *

Max glanced down at her watch and chewed the side of her lip. It was eight-thirty. Sunup had come and gone. Where was Goose? They should have started drilling long ago. Had his rig broken down? Had he been in an accident? Her worried mind started to conjure up all kinds of dire images.

Just when she’d decided to go looking for him, the sound of an engine on the road below reached her ears. It was Goose. She breathed a sigh and gave a nervous laugh of relief. Smiling broadly, she stood waiting for the rig’s assent.

But it was not Goose and ol’ Sal that pulled to a stop and blocked the road. It was a blue Silverado with Sam Garrett at the wheel.

Max’s smile faded, but she stood her ground as he walked toward her. He was wearing jeans and the same green-and-blue-striped shirt he’d worn yesterday. But it was rumpled and the tails hung out. His hair was disheveled, as if he’d run his fingers through it a thousand times. Pain stabbed her when she saw how bloodshot his eyes were, and she almost cried out to him, almost pulled him into her arms to comfort him. But she balled her fingers into tight fists and clenched her teeth together.

When he stopped before her, she asked, “What are you doing here? Did you come to watch the drilling?”

“No,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I came to talk to you, and I’m not leaving until I do. You can’t call the cops up here.”

She dropped her gaze as a rush or remorse coursed through her. “Did they take you to jail?”

“No, I explained the situation and they let me go.” He was quiet for a moment. “Angel, look at me.” She raised her eyes. “I can’t let you throw away something so precious because of one quarrel. I never meant to hurt you. I lost my temper and said some dumb things. I can’t take the words back. And I can’t promise that we won’t ever argue again. Most couples with strong personalities argue at one time or another. It’s unavoidable when two people are as hardheaded and opinionated as we are. But, sweetheart, I’m not like your father. There’s one big difference.” He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I love you with all my heart.”

Her throat constricted and tears glazed her eyes. It would be so easy to fall into his arms and convince herself that their problems had magically disappeared. But it wasn’t that simple. “Sam,” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, “do you believe in me?”

“Of course I believe in you. I believe in you in a hundred ways. I know that you’re a wonderful, passionate human being with tremendous talent and a gift for love and laughter and caring. You’re strong and proud and determined.”

“But do you believe in me when I tell you that I know there is water on this hill? Clear, good water less than a. hundred feet beneath where we stand?”

His hand cupped the side of her neck and his thumb brushed along the ridge of her jaw. He looked up and away from her, and she watched his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Then his eyes met hers again. She could see the misery there. “To be honest, I don’t know. For your sake, Angel, I want to believe it. I don’t want you to be disappointed. My heart tells me yes. But my head tells me . . . no.”

She closed her eyes as anguish ripped through her. He couldn’t suspend his disbelief. Not even for her. “I see.”

“Are you going to let this one thing keep us apart? I refuse to let you do that. Max, we love each other. We can have a wonderful life together. You don’t have to rip your heart out over this damned hill. I’ll give you any amount of money you want. You won’t have to worry about debts or eat bologna sandwiches ever again.”

“That’s the problem, Sam. You’ll give me. I must do this on my own. I need to know that I can, and I need to know that you think I can. It’s a matter of respect for my integrity.” She stepped back. “You’ll have to go now. I’m expecting Goose at any minute.”

“He’s not coming.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean, he’s not coming?”

“Goose Gallagher is in jail.”

All the blood drained from her face. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. For a moment Max thought she might faint, and she’d never fainted in her life.

“In jail? Is this some sort of sick joke?”

Sam shook his head. “You must have given him my number, because he called for you this morning. He asked me to tell you there’d been ‘a little hitch in his plans.’ They got him for public intoxication.”

Fury rolled over her. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

“Because I wanted a chance to talk to you first.”

“Damn you, Sam Garrett. Damn your rotten hide. You ought to know how important this is to me, and here you’ve been reciting pretty speeches while all the time you knew. And if you say ‘I told you so,’ I’ll throttle you. Get out of my way!”

“Where in the hell are you going?” he called after her as she stalked toward the jeep.

“To the jail,” she yelled. “And if you don’t move your truck, I swear I’ll run right over it.”

“I’ll go with you. Maybe I can help.”

She whirled and glared at him. “You stay out of my business. I can handle it myself.”

Sam pulled the Silverado into the clear just as Max came roaring by. She hadn’t missed him by more than inches. He got out and watched her tawdry jeep bounce down the rough road, spitting gravel and kicking up a trail of dust. “Damned fool woman! You’re going to kill yourself,” he shouted after her.

Dowser came running from the other side of the hill. He looked around, then sat at Sam’s feet and whined.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me, boy. Get in.” He held open the door while the Doberman jumped inside. “At least she’s talking to me even if she is yelling. Think that’s a good sign?”

*    *    *

As Max pulled into a parking place near the jail and got out, a horn honked behind her. Incensed when she turned and saw Sam, she put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I thought I told you I would handle this.”

He shrugged and grinned. “I just wanted to tell you that you forgot your dog.” Dowser stuck his head out the window and gave a little woof of greeting. “I’m taking him home with me until you come up with the ransom.” With that parting salvo, he drove off.

Max kicked the side of the jeep and uttered a rude oath. Oh well, she’d deal with that later, she thought as she headed for the jail.

Since it was his fifth offense, Max paid nearly two hundred dollars in fines to spring Goose. So far he had cost her a big hunk of the proceeds from the pickup, and they had yet to put a bit to the ground. Sober and contrite, he was quiet as she drove him back to Goodtime Moe’s to pick up his truck.

When she pulled up beside the battered vehicle in the seedy tavern’s empty parking lot, she asked, “Goose, what happened? I was depending on you.”

The old man hung his head. “Well, little lady, I run into a problem. I tried to find me a helper, but most of the ones I knowed real good was dead or too stove up to work anymore. The other ones I offered to hire laughed right in my face. Thought I was pulling their leg, called me a crazy ol’ coot. I couldn’t find nobody. It was then that the miseries come upon me, and I tried to whup ‘em back with Wild Turkey. Never could handle bourbon. Not even the good stuff. I musta got a little rowdy, ‘cause I woke up this morning in the tank. I feel right bad I let you down, you countin’ on me and all.”

Fingers beating an impatient tattoo on the steering wheel, Max thought a moment. “Goose, if I can find someone to help you, could you be ready to start this afternoon?”

“Yes sir-ee bob.” The animation came back to his wrinkled face as he slapped his thigh. “Ol’ Sal’s purrin’ like a kitten and rarin’ to go. I’d be much obliged if you could dig up somebody to lend a hand.”

After practically making him swear in blood to appear at the site, sober and ready to drill, as soon as she could locate an assistant, Max dropped Goose off and stopped by the drilling company where Mary Lou worked. As soon as she heard Max’s problem, the affable yellow-haired woman called a student at the local college who occasionally worked for their company. He had just come in from his morning classes and agreed to help. The young man promised to go by Goose’s house after lunch and help him move the old cable tool rig to the hill.

“That boy’s real dependable,” Mary Lou said. “And strong as an ox. Jim Clay will give you a good day’s work.”

On her way back to the motel, Max dropped by a florist and made arrangements for a small bouquet and a thank you note to be sent to Mary Lou. She considered going to pick up Dowser, but decided to leave him at Sam’s. She hated for the big Doberman to be cooped up in the tiny motel room. He’d be happier romping with Bess and chasing sheep for a day or so, and she knew he’d be well cared for.

In any case, she was not in any mood to deal with any more of Sam’s brand of persuasion. She was too vulnerable to his tactics. On the hill this morning, she’d been a hair’s breadth away from melting into his arms until he’d told her about Goose. The way things were going so far, she was beginning to doubt herself. Maybe she was chasing rainbows. Maybe she ought to give up the whole crazy idea.

No.

She refused to let a few roadblocks get her down. She was strong, she reminded herself. She could do anything. There was water on Honey Bear’s hill, and she was going to prove it to Sam Garrett if it was the last thing she did.

*    *    *

By two o’clock, Max was sitting on the boulder tossing blue juniper berries at a prickly pear cactus that clung to a pocked ledge in the rock. Her whole body was zinging with anticipation. This is the day, this is the day, her supercharged brain intoned. We’re going to do it.

It was not long before she heard the old truck lumbering up the hill. Goose was at the wheel herding the vintage vehicle over the rise and into the clearing. Devoid of windshield and fenders flapping, it had tires so thin she could almost see the air. Behind him, caution lights flashing, was a shiny black pickup with a half dozen extra fog and running lamps, a roll bar, and a grille grinning with chrome. Its driver, Max discovered when the old man and the younger one got out and came toward her, was Jim Clay.

“Yes sir-ee bob, me and Jim boy here are gonna make a good team,” Goose said, patting the muscled shoulder of the shy blond giant beside him. “Where you want us to rig up?”

Max pointed out her row of markers and they selected the best spot. “How long do you think it will take, Goose?”

“How deep did you say?”

“Seventy-five to a hundred feet. Probably closer to seventy-five.”

Max noticed that Jim cut his eyes to her in a questioning manner, but when she ignored him, he shrugged as if to say, “As long as I get paid, you’re the boss.”

Goose stroked his grizzled whiskers. “Well, we’ll set ‘er up and get started today. And near as I can figure, we ought to be done before sundown tomorrow.”

Max took a soft drink from the cooler and stepped out of the way so the men could go to work. The pair moved the rig in, leveled it, and raised the derrick, using a cathead and ropes to hoist the tall structure. She was astonished to see that Goose could swing a sledgehammer nearly as well as Jim as they pounded stakes for the guylines into the hard rock. Terrified that the old man was going to keel over with a heart attack from the exertion, she almost intervened, but Jim beat her to it. In his quiet way, the young man eased Goose into another task while he set the stakes.