«Were the layers thin or thick, slanted or level?» Reno asked quickly. «How about slate? Granite? Chert?»

Caleb bent to his father’s journal once more. Reno did too, talking phrases that were more like code to Eve. With every minute, it became more obvious to her that Reno hadn’t spent all his time in gunfights and looking for gold. He was a man of rather formidable geological learning.

After a few minutes Reno made a sound of satisfaction and tapped a page of the Spanish journal with the clean, short nail of his index finger.

«That’s what I thought,» Reno said. «Your father and the Spaniards were on opposite sides of this big neck sticking out into the canyon country from the main body of the plateau. The Spaniards thought it was a separate plateau, but your daddy knew better.»

Caleb studied the two journals, then nodded slowly.

«Which means,» Reno continued, «that if there’s a way to cross over the neck about here, we don’t have to go all the way to the Colorado River to pick up the Cristobal trail.»

«Where do you want to cross?» Caleb asked.

«Right here.»

Eve leaned forward. The hasty knot she had made at the nape of her neck after giving Ethan her scarf came loose. A long lock of her hair escaped and spilled across Reno’s hand. The individual strands gleamed in the lantern light like the very gold he had spent his life seeking.

And like gold, Eve’s hair was cool and silky against his skin.

«Sorry,» she mumbled, hastily redoing the knot.

Reno said nothing at all. He didn’t trust himself to. He knew his voice would reveal the sudden, hard running of his blood.

«Maybe you’re right,» Caleb said.

He looked intently between the two journals.

«But if you’re wrong,» he added after a minute, «you better pray there’s more water than either journal shows.»

«That’s why I’m hoping Wolfe won’t mind if I run off with a couple of his mustangs for packhorses.»

«Take the two Shaggies,» Caleb said. «And get Eve a desert mount, too. Her old pony wouldn’t make it.»

«I was thinking of the lineback dun,» Reno said. «She didn’t foal this year.»

Caleb nodded, then said bluntly, «Horses are the least of your problems.»

«Water,» Reno answered.

«That’s one, but not the worst.»

Eve made a questioning sound.

«The worst problem,» Caleb said, «is finding the mine — if the damned thing exists. Or were you expecting to find a sign saying, ‘Dig here’?»

«Hell no. I was expecting a carnival barker and dancing elephants to point the way,» Reno drawled. «Now, don’t you go telling me there won’t be any. It will plumb break my poor little heart.»

Caleb laughed and shook his head.

«All fooling aside,» he said a moment later, «how do you expect to find the mine?»

«Mining leaves marks on the land.»

«Don’t count on it. It’s been two hundred years. Long enough for trees to grow right over any signs of mining.»

«I’m not a bad geologist,» Reno said. «I know what kind of rock to look for.»

Caleb looked at Eve. «What about you? Think you can come close enough with that journal to find a mine?»

«If not, there’s always the Spanish needles,» she said.

«What?»

Eve reached into the front pocket of her faded dress. A moment later she brought out a small, leather-wrapped bundle. When she unrolled the leather, two slim metal rods fell into her palm with a musical sound.

«These,» she said.

«Spanish dip needles,» Reno explained to Caleb. «They’re supposed to find buried treasure, not metal ore or water.» Reno looked at Eve. «Where are the other two?»

She blinked, then understood. «Don said his ancestors had figured out that two worked as well as four, and were easier to use.»

«Hell’s fire,» Caleb said in disgust. «You’d be lucky to find the floor with those.»

«What do you mean?» Eve asked.

«They’re damned hard to use,» said Reno. «I’ve never tried it with two, though. God knows it can’t be worse than four.» He looked at Eve. «Have you ever used them?»

«No.»

Reno held out his hand. She dropped the small rods on his palm without touching his skin with her fingers.

«Look close,» Reno said to Eve. «The idea is to keep the needles touching on the forked end.»

«At the tips?» Eve asked.

«No. At the base. Interlocked but moving easily, able to respond to the least change.»

Eve watched, frowning. The notch of each Y was so shallow that it offered no real aid in keeping the rods together.

Delicately Reno brought the narrow metal sticks together until they barely met at the base of the wide Y. Breathing very lightly so as not to break the contact, he held them out for Eve to see.

«Kind of like this,» Reno said. «Just kissing, mind you. No real pressure.»

«Doesn’t look all that hard,» Caleb said.

«Not when one person is holding both rods. But they don’t work that way. Takes two people, one rod each.»

«No fooling?» asked Caleb. «Give me one of those.»

Eve watched while Reno handed over one slim metal stick and kept the other. They indeed looked like needles when held in the men’s large hands.

Large, but not clumsy. Reno and Caleb had unusually fine coordination. Eve had seen both men use their fingers with the delicate precision of a butterfly landing on a flower.

Indeed, very quickly Caleb had matched the flattened notch on his needle with the one on Reno’s. Keeping them barely touching was more difficult. Even so, it was only a moment before Caleb mastered it.

«See. Nothing to it,» Caleb said.

«Uh-huh,» drawled Reno. «Now let’s take a walk around the table.»

Caleb gave him a startled look. «With the needles touching?»

«Every step of the way,» Reno said. «Just kissing, mind you. No shoving.»

A grunt was Caleb’s only answer. The two men stood, matched needles, and looked at each other.

«On three,» Caleb said. «One…two…three.»

They took a step.

Instantly the small rods separated.

The second time, Caleb tried applying more pressure when he took a step.

The rods crossed like swords.

The third time the men tried, the rods clashed, slipped, and drew apart.

«Damn,» Caleb said.

He flipped the dowsing rod end over end on his palm several times, then shot it toward Reno without warning.

Reno’s free hand flashed out and snagged the flying needle. With no break in the motion, he flipped a rod in each hand like a circus juggler.

Whatever the problem in using the rods, lack of dexterity on the part of the men wasn’t it.

«Good thing you’ve read enough geology books to stock a university,» Caleb said. «Those needles are as useless as teats on a boar hog.»

Eve’s hand shot out, catching one of the dowsing rods as it somersaulted obediently above Reno’s palm.

«May I?» she asked calmly.

The question was unnecessary. She had already leveled the forked end of the rod in Reno’s direction. The metal stick was balanced between her palm and her thumb, so lightly held that a breath could sway the metal.

Reno hesitated, shrugged, and carelessly pointed the forked end of his rod toward her. He held the rod as she did, balancing it between his palm and his thumb.

Eve moved her hand slightly. The notches met, brushed, and came back together like lodestone and iron.

As they caught and held each other, a ghostly current rippled through the rods to the flesh holding them, startling both people.

With a gasp, Eve let go of her needle. So did Reno.

Caleb caught both pieces of metal before they hit the floor. Giving Eve and Reno an odd look, Caleb returned the rods to them.

«Something wrong?» he asked.

«I was clumsy,» Eve said quickly. «I knocked the rods together.»

«Didn’t look clumsy to me,» Caleb said.

Reno said nothing. He simply watched Eve through narrowed green eyes.

«Let me try it this time,» Reno said.