A Callahan Christmas Miracle

“Bodies,” Jace said. “Dead bodies.”

She let out a small gasp.

Galen laughed. “Don’t frighten her.”

“That’s right.” Jace grinned at Rose as he let out more rope. “You’re like a canary,” he told her. “You’re going to let us know if there’s any trouble down below.”

“Canaries die,” Rose said.

Galen smiled, impressed with her spirit. “Only in the case of noxious gas. And believe me, I’m up here with the only noxious gas around. You’re just going to be down there for a moment.” His words seemed to soothe her, but Galen felt suddenly anxious as Rose disappeared from sight.

It got very quiet underneath the velvety New Mexico sky. Galen listened, his pulse thundering, his breath short, his stomach even cramping a bit—maybe he shouldn’t have allowed his brother to talk him into this—and then suddenly, the rope went completely slack.

Chapter Three

“Rose!” Galen shouted, realizing that she was no longer at the end of the rope he held. He tossed it away, as did his brother. The two of them flattened themselves against the lip of the cave, peering down. “Rose!”

“Hold your horses,” she called from below. “All that bellowing is making me nervous.”

“What are you doing?” Galen gulped against the fear tightening his throat. She sounded as if she was talking to them from the bottom of a jar. “You were supposed to just take a quick look and come back out.”

“Yeah, but it’s pretty cool down here.”

Galen shone the flashlight into the crevice. “Put the rope back on and get up here!”

“Keep your pants on, boys. I may never come this way again, so I want to fully live in the moment.”

“What the hell is she doing?” Jace muttered. They pressed as close as they could to the hole, trying in vain to see what Rose was up to.

“I know just as much as you do, which isn’t exactly a comforting feeling,” Galen said.

“She’s a sparky little thing, isn’t she?” Jace commented, his tone admiring.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Galen demanded.

“Not to my knowledge. Sometimes I wish I did. Other times, I think how lucky I am that there’s no nagging woman in my life.”

“Hey!” Rose called up. “I heard that! I think you should know it’s a well-known fact that men nag as much as women. Sometimes more. Now, get your muscles going, fellows. I’m ready to come out.”

Galen grabbed the rope with relief. He and Jace tugged her out as fast as they prudently could. She came out of the crevice, illuminating herself with the Maglite.

“Look,” she said. “I’m Tinkerbell, rising from Hook’s lantern.”

“Someone likes children,” Jace said. “Which is a fortunate thing, because I like children myself. Maybe you and I—” they set Rose on solid ground “—should think about having some children of our own.”

“I don’t think so,” she said sweetly, and she smiled at Galen, whose breath went out of him. “Anyway, look at what I found.” She held up a handful of silver coins, jingling them.

He was about to say, Marvelous, but you had me so worried when the rope went slack, when the sound of a truck engine approaching sent them running for their own truck.

“Holy crap,” Jace said, patting his jeans. “Where are the keys?”

“Damn it!” Galen exclaimed as they sat breathlessly watching Jace look frantically for the keys.

“Those keys on the dash?” Rose asked, and Galen uttered a curse word he never thought he’d say in a lady’s presence. Jace grabbed them and jammed one into the ignition.

“Wait!” Rose said. “We probably left a ton of footprints. They’ll know we were here!”

“No time to clean that up. Floor it, Jace.” Galen looked behind them. “Unknown vehicle at six o’clock.”

Jace switched on the engine, pulling away from the cave without turning on the truck lights. They sped into the darkness, and Galen lifted a rifle down from the gun rack, watching behind them.

Once they made it to the main road, he let out a ragged breath. “I don’t think they saw us.”

“Or decided not to give chase,” Jace said.

“It’s beautiful down there,” Rose said, completely unbothered by their haphazard getaway. “You can’t believe all the amazing stuff in that cave.” She held up the coins, eyeing them in the beam of her flashlight. “And look at this awesome statue.”

Galen stared at the delicate silver figure of a mustang, a Diablo, in Rose’s even more delicate palm. “That’s Rancho Diablo treasure.”

“Really?” Rose handed it over and he took it, reverently touching the horse, feeling it hum with the spirit that kept Rancho Diablo alive. “Then you’re going to love this, too.” She reached into her waistband and pulled out a handgun, giving that to him.

“What were you doing down there? Excavating?” Jace demanded. “Next time, we’ll send you with a sack so you can bring up everything your heart desires.”

“Good,” Rose said, “because I had to leave behind a really sweet painting of your grandfather.”

Galen stared at the woman sitting next to him, the new nanny they’d hired to watch the children and educate them and play with them, and it hit him that he was in the presence of a kindred spirit. A spirit that was unafraid and that walked in harmony with each moment. “How do you know it was our grandfather?”

She looked at him. “Everyone in Tempest knows Chief Running Bear. He hangs out sometimes at the Ice Cream Shoppe. You’ve got property in Tempest, so when he’s in town, he stops by. The kids love his stories.” She was quiet for a moment, then said, “I took some photos on my cell phone. I’ll be very curious to see if this Maglite gave off enough light to capture anything. Too bad you can’t fit down there. It’s like a museum of contraband.”

Galen’s breath caught at her sheer bravery, not to mention audacity. Instead of worrying that she’d barely escaped detection and possibly danger, Rose acted as if she’d passed a pleasant evening in an enchanted grotto. She handed him a cookie from the bag, and gave one to Jace, too. Then she smiled at Galen, and he grinned back, abruptly aware that his heart had just jumped headlong into the hands of a woman who wore smiley-face pajamas to bed.

* * *

GALEN LAY IN HIS BED after a hot shower, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He’d looked at the photos Rose had taken of the cave, and with the powerful Maglite she’d been able to illuminate some revealing items. There was a cache of guns in the hole, enough to do great damage in the hands of some dedicated shooters. He’d share those photos at the emergency family meeting he planned to call tonight. The painting of his grandfather had been a bit more difficult to see, but it was still an amazing portrait of a man he couldn’t imagine sitting still long enough to be painted.

Galen resolved to get that painting out of the cave ASAP. It looked as if they’d been using his grandfather’s likeness for the purposes of recognition and training. No doubt Wolf—or the cartel—had a bounty on Running Bear’s head. The portrait was old, done maybe twenty-five years ago—hard to tell without seeing it in good light—and no doubt stolen. Galen wasn’t certain how many years had passed since Wolf and Running Bear’s relationship had ruptured forever, but maybe Wolf had taken the portrait when he’d left the tribe.

Galen would be willing to bet his uncle also had photos or sketches of the four elder Callahans the cartel wanted flushed out for turning them over to the government: Molly and Jeremiah Callahan, his cousins’ parents, who’d built up this ranch, and Julia and Carlos Chacon Callahan, his and his siblings’ parents, who’d wholeheartedly embraced the battle for Rancho Diablo. Wolf would never stop trying to turn the Callahans over to the cartel, but they were in hiding, in witness protection. They’d never be found.

No one knew where they were, not even Fiona.

No one except Running Bear.

And me. But I’ve kept myself away from anything that might weaken me for so long, I know that secret is buried deep within me. I don’t understand Wolf’s desire for vengeance on his family. Even if they turned him in to the government, he shouldn’t want his relatives dead.

Family is all that matters.

Galen glanced over at the silver horse standing on his nightstand. The filigreed saddle glinted in the moonlight pouring in his bedroom window. It was a fine piece, designed by a master silversmith.