Page 63 of Tormented Hearts
Hawk leaned closer and read aloud, “Crossed Booth Ridge before first light. Three springs cut through the ridge. In the rainy season, the water flows freely and creates three streams. At night, we navigate by the North Star.”
Her brows pinched. “It seems straightforward, but I don’t see anything on this photo that resembles what he wrote.”
Hawk took the phone from her lap and zoomed out to see the entirety of the carving. He stared at it for so long that she forgot they were supposed to be comparing her ancestor’s notes to the markings and she wasn’t here to drink in her lover’s rugged features.
He tapped one of the deeper carved lines on the photo.
She leaned so close to him that their heads almost touched. “Zoom in on that portion.” She pointed.
They studied it for a long minute, even rotating the photo. She issued a frustrated sigh. “Maybe it really is just tool marks. Eli Winthrop carried a dull ax.”
“I don’t think so, Sinead.” He rotated the image a quarter turn and her breath caught. The longest carved line suddenly matched the entry.
Three small nicks in the wood turned into wavy lines. And off to one side, crisscrossing marks in the shape of…
“A star,” she breathed.
She jerked her gaze to Hawk’s, excitement flooding her veins. “This is everything we need to find Booth Ridge.”
He turned his head, staring off to the north. A shiver coursed down Sinead’s spine as she realized just how close they were to solving this mystery, to finding whatever was out here. Whether it was a gold mine or another clue didn’t matter anymore, because for the first time since her father died, she wasn’t chasing his legacy alone, with Hawk only along as her bodyguard.
She was building something of her own, right here, mile by mile, alongside the one person who’d made the search feel like living instead of grieving.
“You feel it too?” Her voice wavered.
“Feels close. Real close.” He glanced back at her, his expression steady and warm. “Whatever’s up there, we’ll find it together.”
She reached for his hand, and he laced his fingers through hers without hesitation.
“You want to set off now?” Hawk asked.
She laughed. “Like you don’t already know the answer.” She tucked the journal into her pack and stood.
Together, they tore down their camp. By the time they shouldered their packs, the sun had risen over the ridge, washing the clearing—their clearing—in a warm glow.
Sinead turned in a circle, drinking in the view and committing it to memory. The cabin, the ash of their campfire where she sat in the wreath of her bodyguard’s arms and studied the journal entries, joking until the laughter turned to kisses…and then moans.
He stepped up beside her and enveloped her hand in his big, warm, rough one.
Together, they turned north, toward whatever waited for them at the end of the trail that had cost three families so much torment.
She only hoped whatever it was included more time with Hawk.
Chapter Fourteen
Hawk blazed a trail, selecting routes that concealed them better than the simpler paths. Ahead, a tree was down, and he picked his way through the underbrush to skirt the branches, glancing back at Sinead.
She wore her hair back and a ball cap pulled low in an effort to keep the gnats out of her eyes. As she stepped over a branch, she swatted at the small cloud of insects that stayed away from him.
She stopped walking and looked at the thick, fallen trunk. “How old do you think this tree is?”
He took in the size of the trunk. “I don’t know. Maybe a hundred fifty years old?”
She planted her hand on the bark and looked up at him with awe on her beautiful face. “Eli Winthrop could have walked past this very tree.”
His chest tightened. “He probably did.”
She trailed her fingers over it and shook her head. “Good to know that the DNA between generations didn’t change. If there really is a mine, it’s so far away from the cabin. That’s something my father would have done.” Her lips curved into a sad smile.
