Layers

By Mj Callaway

Liz is a young woman and a promising painter. Beth, her aunt, is an established painter. This story is about their lives.

Beth is missing near the Black Hills where she owns a large ranch.

Jake, their ranch foreman, calls Liz with the news of Beths disappearance where she is studying in North Carolina. Liz is studying art at a college near the beach home and property the family owns.

The familys pasts are intertwined with an old gold mine, visions, swampland, and ancient hills of South Dakota.

Secrets are revealed as the story continues. Visions called mirrors guide Liz.

Since childhood, both she and her aunt Beth have painted messages at the bottom of their paintings. This is the way to help Liz solve problems with their lives, past events, and the lands they own.

Along the way, she meets Ben Kelly, a Native American. He is a professor at the university and does archeology research. Their lives intermingle, both learning about each others pasts, lifestyles, and ideals.

Jake is not only her foreman as Liz soon discovers family secrets after Beths body is discovered in the old gold mine.

Many characters keep the storyline moving in several directions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 13, 2009
• ISBN: 9781477162590

Mj Callaway

I received a BFA degree at Southern Illinois University. Travel with interest in American Indian culture and history. Toured all 50 states and traveled to France, Italy, Greece and the Caribbean Islands. I now reside in Southern New Mexico among the colors of the desert, mountains and the brilliant blue sky.

Book preview

Copyright © 2009 by MJ Callaway.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2008911682

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4363-9500-7

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4363-9499-4

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4771-6259-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

56125

Jake, this isn’t the first time! She’s in one of her painting marathons. She’s probably spent the night at the lake and is waiting to paint the sunrise on the buttes again. This isn’t the first time she’s slept in her jeep.

Liz glanced out her window at the dark starless sky. Jake’s upset, and he never panics.

You did check the hills beyond the pond?

Damn it, gal, that’s the first place. This time of year, we could have a big blizzard by noon. Plus she’s not been herself in a while. I’d be the last to know what’s on her mind. Best you come home.

The anxiety in his voice, Beth’s age, and her strong-willed determination to do whatever she pleased were signals for her to return to the ranch. Sally, her friend and housemate, waited for Liz to speak.

Sally, Beth’s done this before. She loses track of time when she paints. At her age, she should know better. She is so stubborn. I have to go. She’ll probably be home before I get there.

You pack while I call the airlines.

Liz could hear as Sally finally found a late-morning flight. She didn’t have to pack but a few items. She did include her sketchbook and her work boots.

Liz and Sally’s relationship goes back several years. They met as they enrolled at the college. The years at school and sharing the beach house their thoughts and did not need the spoken word. Sally on occasion would wait until Liz calmed down and was there to solve problems. She was used to the fact Liz could not hide her anxiety for long.

Sally held on to the armrest as Liz drove on the winding road and starless night to the airport. Liz parked in front of the terminal. Sally handed her the carry-on.

Liz, she will be home before you get there.

Liz watched Sally leave, fighting back tears.

Liz could not erase the images of her aunt’s face out the window of the plane in the late-morning light. She turned her head away from the window where the bright sunlight passed through as the plane flew over the clouds. She thought, How could Beth be missing? But as long as she could recall, Jake always fussed about Beth’s sometimes careless lifestyle. They had been friends for many years. And always Jake wanted to be her protector. She knew at times the two of them had been romantically involved. A home where everything was in place. They made the ranch the center of her life.

I will not be alone again!

Short of sleep, she tried to relax in the cramped seat. Out of habit, she unzipped her purse for a cigarette. Ahead, she saw the No Smoking light. She shoved the pack in her purse, catching it on the zipper. She yanked the leather case out as a photo was caught on a plastic sleeve inside her lining.

A woman seated next to her leaned forward. That’s a pleasant photo. You and your mother look happy.

The woman watched her push the wallet into her overstuffed bag. She could feel the young woman’s sadness and patted her hand.

The hand reminded her of her aunt’s. The soft skin and long fingers reminded her of Beth’s.

Would you like something to drink? asked the flight attendant.

Liz ordered a Coke and a cup of coffee. The woman next to her laughed softly. I’ve ordered that many times. It helps for some reason.

The photo is of my aunt and I. I’ve been awake most of the night, trying to get to Rapid City. Home is there, and I live with my aunt Beth. She’s this crazy painter who goes off to paint and never pays attention to time. So far, she is missing, but she’ll be back before I get there. Mad at me for worrying and being there.

For someone as young as you, this is upsetting.

Beth has raised me since I was twelve. During the past few years, I’ve been attending school in Charlotte.

Pardon my question, but I noticed that lovely bracelet you wear. It’s nice you have the same name, Beth.

Our name is Elizabeth. I’m called Liz. Several years ago, a jeweler in Rapid City designed them. She wears the one with ‘Liz’ engraved on it.

The woman watched as Liz fell asleep. In her dreams, telephones kept ringing. The arid landscape of the ranch was in the surf off the beach in Charlotte. As she slept, Sally left a message on her voice mail.

The attendant announced their arrival in Chicago. Liz felt bad because the nice woman who she talked to had left. She never asked for her name. On the flight to Rapid City, she was seated in the middle of three seats near the back of the cabin. When she stretched out, Liz recalled another phone call twelve years ago.

The winter morning was unusually warm. Liz was in bed with a cold. She was bored and watched the surf from her bedroom window. The sun highlighted the surf as the waves lapped gently onshore. Warm days this time of year were rare. It wasn’t the cold temperatures but the force of the wind that made it difficult to run on the beach.

Just my luck, the weekend was too cold to be out there. But not today!

Ignoring her parents’ warning to stay in bed, she dressed and picked up a bag of bread. Roaming through the dunes and the tall wild grasses, she tossed pieces of bread to the seagulls hovering over the surf. The screech of the gulls and the sound of the breakers were just what she needed. She giggled when she dug her toes in the wet sand. Shivered as the cold Atlantic Ocean tide pulled the ripples of sand from under her feet. She slipped and fell on her knees. Her mother would have a cow if she caught her in the cold surf.

Liz remembered her aunt pulling her slacks above her knees to join her on her last visit. Today, she missed her but knew she would be here soon. They were planning a surprise birthday party for her father.

In the distance, she watched a dog chase the surf. She whistled, and the dog ran to her. The wet dog dropped a piece of wood by her feet. Liz tossed the stick back in the surf.

When Beth arrived, they would spend hours walking on the beach. Beth would talk about the many colors and the different hues of this sunset to the ones on the ranch. Beth opened Liz’s eyes to the wonder of colors and encouraged her to paint as a young child.

Before reaching home, rain began to fall. She was soaked by the time she ran to the front porch.

Well, young lady, having fun on the beach?

Her father was inside the front door. Liz stared at her father’s stern face yet with a twinkle in his eyes. He laughed as he helped her out of her wet jacket and jeans.

I confess, a day like today, that beach is more inviting than staying in bed.

During his childhood, his family stayed in this cottage during the summers. He decided to live here year-round after Liz was born. Their family home in Charlotte was old and located in the crowded and noisy historical section of town. Agreeing the commute to the university to teach was worth the time.

A private school near the university solved the problem of educating Liz.

When you did not answer our call, your mother and I figured you were on the beach. The rainstorm surprised both us. Let’s fix some lunch.

Her father made sure she was settled in her bed before leaving.

I have class this afternoon. Your mother and I will be home around six. When you hear the dryer buzz, I suggest you remove your clothes. See you later, Lizzy-Beth.

Alone, Liz could not sleep. A strange feeling shadowed her comfortable surroundings. She knew something was not right. Her present from Beth was out of focus as she stared at the painting. The landscape wrapped around their ranch was clouded with a dark void.

Their family vacations away from the humidity of the long summers in Charlotte; her parents would garden in the shade of the ranch house. Beth, Liz, and her father hiked and explored the Black Hills region that bordered on the corner of their ranch. Her mother enjoyed taking care of the flower garden and a chance to catch up on her reading.

The old gold mine near the lake frightened and excited Liz. On rare visits, she would peek between the boards that covered the mine entrance. They could roam all over the ranch except for the mine.

Liz strained to hear the faraway sounds of water or the occasional rocks falling into the deep tunnel when she was allowed to stay by the entrance. In her warm bed at night, Liz shivered about the only place Beth did not share with her.

One day, she would find a way to explore that mine.

Liz loved that ranch. She lived in jeans and sloppy shirts except on occasions when they would entertain or travel to Rapid City.

During the school year, she had to wear uniforms.

Last week, Liz received a note from Beth. Joy and excitement filled her heart; Beth would be here for her father’s party. She was making plans to shop for this party as she fell asleep.

A noise awakened her. She jumped out of bed to remove her clothes from the dryer. It was after five. She assumed her parents were calling; the sound was the dryer buzz.

She noticed her father’s favorite painting of Beth’s. She never figured out why Beth did not like this landscape. Yet Liz noticed the painting location was altered. Beth was an artist that painted what was in front of her. In this canvas, Beth placed a wall near the old swamp area behind the house. Today, the bank is covered with weeds. The level of the lake had receded over the years.

Darkness this time of the year begins very early. Liz turned on the outside light. She dialed her father’s number at the university. No answer. Relieved, she could see headlights heading toward the cottage. Planning to tease her parents for being late, she ran to the back door.

Mrs. Wright, her teacher and a close friend of her parents, surprised her. Liz sensed something was terribly wrong. Her mind could not focus on the images of her parents. The words Your parents died in a car crash echoed around her.

She was anxious to see Jake. She ran to him, tears running down her face.

Don’t start that crying. She never liked tears. We need to rest here for a while. We can start looking for her in the morning.

I don’t give a damn. I want to leave now.

He guided her to the airport coffee shop. Sitting at the bar, Liz lit a cigarette.

Still smoking? Thought you would have more sense than her. Seems you are more alike than is good for you.

At the same time, Liz could see Jake’s reflection in the window. He was miserable and exhausted.

She reached over and placed her small hand onto the comfort of his large callused hand. She toyed with her coffee cup. Jake gave up and carried two coffees out to the truck.

They began the two-hour trip from Rapid City to their ranch. The night wind and the coal black sky; the stars were bright as the truck sped toward their ranch. Jake did not talk much. Living with them, she knew to wait for him to begin.

Three days ago, I watched Beth drive off with her paints and stuff packed into that jeep of hers. She had mentioned she might stop by the creek to check the banks and then the boards of the mine entrance before going to the lake area. I spent the day roundin’ up strays near the outer edge of the ranch. When I returned, it was late. I didn’t go to the main house. As I think about it, I don’t recall seeing her jeep. Probably thought she had parked by the studio door or stopped off at Doc’s place. Just before daylight, Martha called. She was hoping we were together. She had one of her visions telling her to make coffee.

Jake stopped and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Liz recalled how many times she had seen him do this. Especially during her teenage adventure years. Beth would send him out to find her. And he always managed to locate her. Never scolding her but drummed those fingers on the wheel all the way back to the ranch.

"Martha wasn’t gonna stop pestering until I drove around to look for her. I asked if Clancy was with her. Martha called his name, but he was getting deafer, you know. She found him upstairs, and I heard his clicking nails come from her bedroom and down the stairs. When he saw me, he scratched the back door and pushed it open. He ran to my jeep barkin’ and almost jumped through the window to get in.

"In the early-morning light, I found her tire tracks leading to the rocky area by the lake. That’s where I lost the tracks. I kept callin’ her name and honking. I tried to reach by cell, but her damn thing wasn’t turned on. Went on foot several times, but no tracks. Clancy kept whining, not wantin’ me to get out of the jeep. Guess he knew she’s not there. He also barked about every mile or two. Got so I couldn’t stand him makin’ all the noises, and he was having problems breathing. So I drove us back to the ranch. Martha was standing on the back stoop. By her face, I knew she had not heard a word. That’s when I called the sheriff. He said it’d be no problem. He knew her habits and paintin’ places. Remembered he had looked for her last year when that blizzard came up suddenly. But she beat him back to the ranch then. Had hell to pay for that from both of them.

"Anyway, he radioed his deputies. Nothing was missing from her bedroom, and I found her portable easel and a few canvases were the only things missing. Martha had packed her usual snacks and water supply. Also found her cell phone on her painting table. Lot of good that fancy phone you gave her did. She only turned it on when she knew you were coming here.

Clancy kept running from her bedroom to her closet to the back door. Twice we rode out. Did keep pretty close to the main road. When I got back the last time, I saw headlights moving this way on our main road. Soon, I could see it was Sheriff Mark Bent. He informed me they were issuing a missing-person alert locally and with the Feds. He had also alerted the helicopter rescuer, and they were in the air. I drove back by the old mine again. All the boards were in place. But this would have been the last place Beth would venture in. On the way back, there were no fresh tracks or ridges off the road, meaning Beth had not looked for those silly crystals she likes over by the high mesas.

Far down the road, she could see the lights from an all-night café.

Liz studied his face. It was hard to ignore the deep worry lines across that familiar face. When he began to turn onto the parking lot, Liz started to complain. But stopped he needed a break. Would probably see some of the ranchers that knew about Beth.

Ranchers filled this place most nights. During roundups and bad weather was their meeting stop. A few tourists spent many a night when the highways were covered with snow in this part of the state at this café. Lots of times, the owner had filled her gas tank during her teenage years without mentioning her lack of fuel to Beth. But Liz knew everyone kept an eye out for her.

As they entered, someone joked, Beth’s gonna have one of her fits when she thinks you called Liz because she was out doin’ her paintin’.

Liz understood their concerns. She greeted them and received several bear hugs in the process. They sat at a booth near the back. The window was cracked and dirty. She ran her finger across the pane so she could see the starry night. After Jake ordered hamburgers, he left for the restroom. She found her cigarettes and tried to find a light when a hand and a lighter appeared over her shoulder.

She ignored the light and lit her own. Cal’s face followed the light from the lighter.

Just like Beth, she never let anyone light those weeds.

Liz laughed for the first time. In his arms, she had missed his familiar warmth. Cal, her high school boyfriend, was as upset about Beth as she was. He would work on the ranch during the summers and did odd jobs for Beth for years. A year after she moved to North Carolina, he moved away to work for a gold mine company.

I thought you were in California, scooping up all those loose gold nuggets.

Didn’t like the big city and too little time left to pick up nuggets. Just got back a few weeks ago. Hear you like your fancy East Coast art school.

Like it fine but need to be here. Sometimes I wish I had never left this wide-open windy, dusty place. Even miss a few cowhands.

She held his hand and noticed it was shaking.

Feel real bad, tried my best to find her. I’ve spent hours looking everywhere we used to go together. Can’t even find her tire tracks. She’s a tough lady. Remember how she used to rein us in?

Jake watched them as he returned to the booth. It is good to have Cal around. Earlier, Cal reported to Jake the areas he had searched. He would meet them at daybreak and be the last to give up.

Jake made Liz eat. She listened to the ranchers as they were mapping out the search for tomorrow. The more she heard, the worse her stomach felt. She pushed Jake out of the booth and ran for the jeep. At the back of the jeep, she vomited. Her head hurt, and she was shaking. Jake pulled her to the seat. She tried to settle down the rest of the drive.

The ranch house was a beacon in the night. Every light was on. It was tiny compared with the miles of darkness surrounding their property. Her eyes were drawn to the millions of bright stars that wrapped around the black space. She had missed this array of stars. On the coast, most times, you could barely make out any constellations. Here, you could see to heaven.

The night air was cold. Liz shivered, wondering how Beth was keeping warm. Gale-force winds happened suddenly in South Dakota. It was a dangerous place to stray unless you were aware how fast the weather could change around here. The nagging knowledge that Beth could have walked back to the ranch if she was able to refused to leave her mind. Beth would never be gone this long without calling Jake.

Martha hurried to Liz; they held each other for a long time. Liz surprised how tiny and old Martha felt. Until this moment, she always seemed larger than life to Liz.

Jake was in the kitchen calling Mark as they climbed the stairs to Liz’s bedroom. She stopped in the doorway of Beth’s room and turned on the ceiling light. Clancy, her old sheltie, moved slowly but tried to run to her. Liz was surprised he had not heard them.

The air in Beth’s room was mixed with the scent of stale cigarette smoke, lavender, and leather. Sitting of the cushion of the window box, she stared into the endless dark expanse of the ranch. Clancy pawed at her legs. She held him on her lap.

The sheltie was very old, mostly deaf and could hardly keep ahead of her as she moved to her bedroom. The dog sniffed around, but when he could not find Beth, he returned to his rug by Beth’s bed. Martha had already prepared her bedroom, with the usual glass of juice and plate of cookies by her bed. A routine that happened every night for many years.

Jake was still on the telephone when she joined them in the kitchen. She sat down and leaned her arms on the large oak table, her memory returning to another day years ago.

The large round oak table and oversized chairs were cold and hard as the seats felt many years earlier. Her parents would never be in this room or anywhere. Her twelve-year-old mind and heart were broken and lonely. She glanced at Beth’s eyes, so much like her father’s. The sound of Jake’s voice brought her back to this lonely night.

She touched the old glass ashtray. Liz reached for a pack of Beth’s Camels and lit the cigarette. Martha ran into the kitchen, yelling at Beth about smoking. Liz yelled back.

Jake moved between them. Good, things sound normal. Been too damn quiet around here.

Martha started to brew coffee. Jake reached for the pot. We need sleep. It will be daylight in a few hours. You two are goin’ to bed.

Knowing he meant it, they were silent as they left. Jake stayed until they were settled in their rooms. He turned out the lights, checked the door and window locks, and walked to his house across the driveway. Strange, these doors had not been locked in years.

Liz heard Jake’s footsteps as he walked across the drive. She could see the light from her aunt’s bedroom. Waiting a few minutes, she moved to the bedroom. Her eyes moved around the room. Colors of yellow and lavender were everywhere. The polished cherrywood of the four-poster bed and dresser smelled of Martha’s famous lemon oil polish. Various colors Beth brushed in her Southwest landscapes and her Victorian gardens matched the curtains and spread on her bed.

Beth’s silver brush and mirror were in their usual place on the lace mat. Liz held the lead crystal bottle of her lavender perfume and sprayed the scent. She sensed her aunt beside her. Almost the same with her father’s aftershave lotion. Big mistake, this memory brought tears she had held back since the telephone call.

She wiped her tears and looked in the mirror. Here was a tired face, short shaggy blonde hair, and a suntanned face. Makeup was not important to either woman. Thoughts of Beth’s gentleness, stubbornness, impatience mixed with curse words yet understanding and concern for many made this woman very unforgettable. Why am I thinking of her as forgettable? Several times in her childhood, people had mistaken Beth for her mother. Their hair was the same shade of blonde. Also, at times, she wondered which one of her parents’ eyes were like hers. Never could she see the likeness in either one of them.

Western boots lined the floor next to the dresser. Her leather vests were draped over an old sea chest. The lace placed about reminded her of the many facets of Beth. Her personality seemed strange to many people—what do they say, a contradiction of words? Not exactly that, but for a loss of comparison, Liz decided Beth would listen and understand their problems better than most. After all, they would comment artists are different.

Above the chest was one of Liz’s favorite paintings. This was the first time her aunt would not answer every question asked. This visit was not the same. They would argue about everything. Her father wanted Liz to leave, but Beth insisted she stay.

Written on the bottom along with her signature, Beth wrote, Liz is with me.

Until that day, Liz had never read these words. Actually, no one could read the letters. Beth used a different brushstroke to disguise the letters.

On the next wall above the chest was another of Beth’s favorite landscapes. Several times her dealer wanted to exhibit it, but she refused. She could see her aunt as she painted this scene. This was after her father wanted her to leave. In his mind, she was interfering in her aunt’s work. A sudden glimpse, she wondered if there was also something that distracted her father’s concern. A warm feeling wrapped around her. Amazed this happened, she could not understand this emotion. Written on the left section of the scene, Liz read the words Liz was with me.

Again, the same message. Was she meant to see this twice? Nobody knew of their secret messages. After Beth painted this, her mother named it quiet comfort when she viewed the painting. Her mother was always there for her. They had a wonderful time together. Until now, she thought about the times with Beth she never shared with her mother.

Next to the landscape was a small watercolor Liz had painted during the same visit. Her style of painting had not changed much over the years except for new methods of paint and subjects. Beth’s themes were detailed and lifelike. Liz’s concepts were bold stokes of colors forming a style close to the impressionistic style. As usual, a message was brushed with large bold strokes, I love Beth. And one could read the bold strokes. Since that work, the child had learned to hide the strokes.

The crocheted canopy swayed when Liz sat on the mattress. Hanging above the massive carved headboard was a landscape of an apple painted next to a flower garden. That morning, years ago and under protest, Beth insisted Liz join her on one of her painting trips.

Liz sulked in the jeep until it became too hot to sit in the sun. She wandered to where Beth was painting. She grabbed a piece of watercolor paper and a sable brush. She knew Beth’s sable brushes were expensive and well taken care of. Beth did not look her way. Liz jabbed the wet brush into a glob of watercolor and attacked the paper. Soon, tubes of watercolors were opened, and the globs of paint covered half the large palette. On her paper, bright strokes became the three rocks of the large landscape Beth was painting. Liz tried her best to get Beth’s attention by spilling paint while her feet scattered rocks and dust near her aunt.

Unable to hold back her frustration, Liz yelled, Damn it, this is stupid! I hate it here!

Beth did not react. Liz stomped to the picnic basket, turned the contents over, and found a red apple; she bit into the juicy fruit and pitched it in front of the tiny wildflowers. It rolled in the center of the flower garden. Still, no reaction from Beth.

A short time later, Beth finished painting. She packed her paints in the case. As she tried to put the cover over the palette, some of the paint Liz had smeared dripped over the edge. Beth carefully cleaned the edges.

Liz waited to be scolded. Instead, Beth opened the picnic basket. Calmly, she repaired one of the sandwiches. After eating very slowly and sipping on the cool lemonade, she returned the items into basket. Liz kicked a rock and said, Damn it!

Beth kicked two rocks, saying, Damn, damn.

They laughed and walked away, arm in arm. In the left corner of this painting, the brushstrokes read, Liz was a bad apple today.

Clancy pawed her shoulder as she heard noises from the kitchen. Liz ran to her closet, ignoring the fear in her heart. After dressing and struggling to pull her boots on, Jake called, Get yourself down here!

She grabbed her quilted down parka and was almost out the front door when she heard, Liz get in here.

She slammed the front door. Jake pointed to the table and the plate filled with her breakfast. She bolted the food, jumped up to refill her coffee, then ran out the back door.

Several ranchers waited by their trucks. Mark was handing out sections of maps. Cal motioned for her to ride with him. Jake and Mark waited for the helicopter.

Cal asked, Do you have your phone?

Liz held it up. Her expression stopped any more questions.

They drove past several buttes in the middle of the grazing area. Miles beyond was the old mine and a small lake. Liz glanced toward their cattle in the predawn light. They drove by the hills where mica and lithium were present. Beth would not allow mining of any type on the ranch these days. The old gold vein in the mine had been shuttered for many years.

Near the mine, an area of volcanic tubes protruded near the surface. Millions of years of wind and water left strange strata. This area was the subject of several of Liz’s canvases she was preparing for her final exhibit at school. Seeing the ridges and blocks today, a whole new meaning was present. Fearful her aunt was hurt in either an aurora or behind the large loose rocks. The fascination was not the color, but a chance Beth could be out there dying.

Cal watched Liz drum her fingers on the car seat. I wish I could have been around when Beth and her husband Tom first settled here.

Liz did not want to talk.

Your aunt is something else. Those stories she told us, I’ll never forget.

Liz ignored his attempt to ease her worrying and was tired of the way he was driving.

You drive like an old man and driving me crazy. Change seats.

Cal knew better than to argue.

Liz turned left onto the rocky terrain. A shortcut they had all used riding their horses to the lake.

You drive just like her. Watch it before you blow a tire or go through the roof.

He was right, but she barely reduced the speed. She pulled out a cigarette from her pocket and tried to light it. Cal grabbed the lighter and lit it. He handed the cigarette to her and lowered the window.

They could hear the sound of the copter blades near the lake. The copter was hovering as they stood near the rim of the lake. The rocks cast long wavy shadows in the water. This water is deep and cold.

The sunlight sparkled, and the shadows over the water began to disappear. On the bank of mud and rocks, tire marks were visible, and the marks moved into the lake.

Cal’s long legs enabled him to reach the edge of the water first. He waited for Liz. Her legs were shaking. A ray of sunlight reflected off a shiny object below. Cal threw a rock toward the object. It hit what sounded like metal.

Liz waved and pointed to the water. It was difficult to hear. The pilot could see where Cal was directing him. He landed the copter close to the rim where they were waiting.

Liz started to remove her boots. Cal put his hand on her foot.

Don’t be stupid. It’s too cold.

She kicked his hand off her foot. As soon as she sank her foot into the water, she gasped and drew back.

Upset because he was right, she cried, Oh god, please!

Cal did not answer. He just stared into the cold black water.

At the water’s edge, Jake strapped the diving gear on the pilot’s back.

As he slipped into the water, they followed his air bubbles to the spot where they had seen the reflection; soon, two yellow markers floated to the surface

Waiting for the pilot to surface, Liz could not stop shaking. She held her breath until the pilot yelled, I’ve located a dark green jeep!

She held on to Jake’s arm as her voice screamed silently, Beth is in there.

Cal turned away, cursed, and kicked the rocks along the water’s edge.

The pilot walked out of the lake. I can’t see anything inside of the jeep. It’s pointed with the front of the jeep up to the window in the mud and rocks. My headlight is too weak to see into the jeep at this point.

One of the search team called, and Jake asked them to meet at the lake. Jake walked in front of Liz. She knew he was trying to block out the yellow buoys. She could see the pain and anxiety in his face.

Damn that woman! Why would she drive so close to the water’s edge!

Jake, she didn’t.

The ranchers arrived with a tow truck. It was so quiet; everyone was afraid of what they would see when the jeep was on the bank.

What seemed like hours, the jeep was onshore. Liz started toward the jeep as Cal held her back. Jake pulled hard to open the door. Water ran out, and the jeep was empty. There were cries of relief then silence as the remainder of the water dripped on the rocks.

Her heart felt as if it would burst out of her chest. Several seconds passed before she yelled across the lake, Where the hell are you?

Only her echo answered her plea.

Jake was the first to speak. Wherever she is, she has her painting stuff with her.

They were so involved with the empty jeep, they did not notice the diver in the water. This time, he had had the proper light. Minutes later, he climbed out on the rocks. Nobody is down there.

Everyone stood in grateful silence.

Liz ran to her jeep. I’m leaving. Wherever she is, she’s in trouble.

Liz drove away in a cloud of dust.

Cal yelled to Jake, Where in the hell is she going?

Settle down. She’ll be back.

Cal needed a drink in the worst way. That damn gal had driven away with his flask hidden underneath the front seat. The tow truck followed her jeep. Silence surrounded Cal. He raised his head to the sky and called for Beth several times.

His own mother abandoned him before he was five. He spent a lot of his childhood working a Beth’s ranch. Beth made sure his foster parents took care of him, even during the times he had screwed up as a teenager. Beth would always take time to listen to him whether he made sense or not. He wished now he had listened to her advice.

Jake made Cal understand that Liz would return. He needed to check on another area but needed for Cal to stay by the lake.

A man carefully shifted one of the boards from the entrance of the mine. With his powerful binoculars, he could see the sheriff’s car, trucks, and tow truck leave. The cold wind blew through the cracks in the barrier. The man moved away to warm his hands by the small fuel lamp.

After the copter flew over, he returned to the crack in the boards. Only one man was gathering wood for a fire.

He was angry the jeep had been located so soon. When the man at the water’s edge turned in his direction, he recognized him. That stupid drunk is here. What’s he doing?

Shifting the board in place, he touched the damp wall of the tunnel. He walked to a small light on the floor among the old timbers. He had burned a few timbers for heat. Once in a while, he would feel the ground move as the old mine settled. The constant drips of water never stopped.

Near the meager fire lay a body covered with rotten planks.

What a stupid old bitch. When that damn woman released the brake, she nearly drowned us. I almost froze getting that easel, paint box, and canvases out of the water. Thought she would never shut up. When she started shaking, I thought it was because she was just old. Did she ever fight when I pushed her in here? She hit her head against that old ore cart. Why did she whisper words as she fell forward? She forced herself to die. You, bitch, you did that so you didn’t have to show me the gold vein! he yelled. His words reverberated down the long tunnel.

The wind began to move through the small damp space. He could smell the cold and knew a storm was coming this way. The fire began to fade. He broke up the last of the canvases and kicked apart pieces of old timbers. His hands were shaking by the time a fire started inside the old ore car. It wouldn’t really help, but the damp floor kept putting out the other fires.

While Liz packed the camping gear, Martha gathered their food. Liz ran to Jake’s house and located another cell phone for Martha. She did not tell her about the jeep.

Martha, Cal and I will spend the night at the lake. If we light the fires around the lake, Beth will see them. Use this phone to call us for anything.

Clancy did not have any trouble climbing into the jeep. He was aware something was wrong.

Martha watched Liz take the shortcut to the lake. The phone rang.

Jake, thank God you called. Liz is going to stay at the lake. I don’t want her alone.

"I’m headed to the lake. Don’t you