He cupped her face and rested his lips on hers. “I guess we’d better find that treasure, then.”
* * *
They set back out, talking every now and then and pointing to things occasionally, but for the most part their focus was entirely on not breaking an ankle on the increasingly treacherous landscape and looking up every so often in search of this tiny cabin in the middle of the most remote part of Utah. Leo sensed Lily’s anxiety begin to bloom the closer they got to where she expected it to be, the longer there was literally no sign of other humans ever having stepped foot this far out.
The trip to the cabin should have been the easy part, but now it was sinking in that this adventure could really be over fast. One night down and then back out of this canyon, calling the whole thing off, left with the fallout of Walter in a cast and Terry dead.
Suddenly the sky went dark and the temperature dropped perceptibly.
Lily picked up her pace when they hit a flat stretch, just before a bend in the river, and Leo heard her sharp “Oh my God!” just before the first ball of hail hammered him on the back of the neck.
The first few pieces to land were small, maybe the size of a pea, but then a hailstone the size of an ice cube landed near his foot, and Lily took a golf-ball-size one to the shoulder. But it didn’t matter, because her exclamation wasn’t about hail anyway.
It was about a cabin only a hundred feet away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
ALL THEY COULD do was cover their heads and force their way in through the rusty, crumbling door. They burst inside, laughing and breathless.
“Oh my God with this weather!” Lily wiped her face. “I give up. Clear forecast, my ass.”
Leo laughed. The tin roof of the tiny cabin was intact—mostly—the walls warped and crooked but with no major gaps. Hail flew in sideways through a blown-out window, clattering with eerie menace on the floor until they managed to pull one of the tents out and hang it around the jagged frame. It turned the light inside a strange, soft blue. Lily spun in a slow circle, taking it all in.
“Holy shit, it looks exactly like I remember,” she yelled above the hailstorm.
It really was more shack than cabin, with only one room, maybe ten feet by ten feet, with an old, rusted-out woodstove in one corner, a dusty trunk in another, and… that was it. There was no table, no chair, let alone anything to sleep on. It was, in design and location, only a place to provide shelter, not comfort. In the corner directly across from the door, the wood floor had rotted away, leaving a hole with dirt and rock visible beneath.
There was nothing even for them to explore, and so they turned and stared at each other, their smiles jubilant and wild. They’d found the cabin. Somehow they were one step closer, and with each step, this stupid, crazy, amazing, far-fetched plan seemed more and more possible.
Lily looked past him and her expression cleared, then she stepped to the wall, running her hand down the dates etched there. There were at least thirty of them scraped into the wood, ranging from dates too old to make out, to about ten years ago, and next to each were initials.
Most of them were WRW.
“William Robert Wilder,” she said, tracing with a finger. The hail had stopped, and now rain pattered gently down on the tin roof. “That’s Duke.”
He touched a crooked LFW. “Is that you?” Leo asked, remembering. “Liliana Faith?”
She nodded. “He started exploring when he was around eleven, I think.” She dropped her hand. “Closer to where he grew up, though. Near Laramie. His parents would tell him to get out at sunrise and be back for dinner.” She laughed. “He went on a backpacking trip in Moab when he was about fourteen, met up with a group of researchers from Princeton, and just started hanging around all summer until finally they let him help with their digs. He lost a finger when he was fifteen, and didn’t even call his parents. Just quietly left the dig and took himself to the ER.”
Leo let out a low whistle. “He told me he lost it chopping carrots at the ranch.”
“He was absolutely fucking with you.” She grinned. “Anyway, he and Mom met in school in Salt Lake. He was studying history and archaeology, and she was studying marine sciences. Marine sciences!” Lily exhaled a dry laugh. “Then he brought her to the desert.”
“Yikes.”
“Right?” she agreed. “They moved to Hester after they got married and helped my uncle work the ranch in Laramie half the year. What was she supposed to do in either of those places? Duke got to join all sorts of teams going out on expeditions. His life stayed interesting and full; hers just got tiny, and he was gone all the time. Not to mention they were broke.” She touched one of the dates—1987—carved there. “Sometimes I can’t really blame her for leaving.”