This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,54
think we’re onto something, they’ll do anything.”
“You’re sure they weren’t there before?” Stone questions.
Both Wyatt and Lucas sigh. “Dude, the paint is new.”
I walk up to the striking handprints, trailing my fingertips along the edge. It’s not wet, but it does look fresh. “We’ll have to be more careful.”
I dart my eyes to Stone. “Your father really didn’t do us any favors. The two most important treasure hunting families in the Superstitions teaming up garnered us a lot of exposure.” I shake my head. For someone who is supposed to be so smart, he sure is fucking dumb.
“The East Coast even picked up the story,” Lucas relays. “It ran on one of those morning talk shows.”
“Perfect,” I grumble. “We’ll have to deal with newbies and people who think they can just come up here and find the treasure right away. As if the people who’ve been searching for a hundred years must be too dumb to find it.”
It’s highly unlikely but if someone else finds the treasure before we do, we’re fucked now that we’re dealing with Cole. Will he move on to them? Or will he punish us because we didn’t find it first?
“These handprints weren’t so common until that treasure hunting television show aired. Before, the legend was only something locals knew about. Now, it’s everywhere. You know, you can still watch snippets of that show on YouTube?”
“Which is why my family shut it down,” Stone growls.
“Your family is why it got aired in the first place,” I snap back.
“Are we back to fighting?” Wyatt huffs. “I liked it better when you were eyeing each other like you could rip one another’s clothing off at any moment and start banging.”
“I never looked at him like that.”
Wyatt laughs. “Oh, Tits. I’ve seen you look like you wanted to fuck the asshole right out of him.”
“Does that work?”
“Jesus,” Stone scolds. “Can we focus on what’s important?”
I grin. “Yes, food. Wyatt,” I singsong. “I think you want to make me an awesome dinner tonight, so we should probably leave now.”
We turn away from the handprint. I’m not going to lie. They always gave me the willies. My dad first told me about the legend when I was too young to be told stories like that. I couldn’t sleep for days. I kept seeing handprints everywhere, even when I closed my eyes. But for as much time as my family has been searching these mountains, there’s no record of the Apache warriors being real—ghosts or otherwise.
To me, the story is the same as Devil’s Hole. Do I really think that the gates to hell are near Clary, Arizona? No, I don’t. Therefore, people can have their fun.
We pack up camp, making sure everything we brought in is taken out. It’s a long hike to the trailhead, but at least the temperatures are lowering with the sun. We talk here and there, Wyatt lamenting that we didn’t find anything. No one thought the carbide lamp Stone and I found was anything special, but it’s in Stone’s pack anyway. A nearby museum might want it to display the evolution of mining.
By the time we get back to civilization, the sun is down and I’m exhausted. All the heat and manual labor has stiffened my bones and simultaneously turned them to jelly. We throw our packs in the back of Wyatt’s truck, and he and Lucas take off while I ride with Stone in his Audi. I don’t know why we keep getting thrown together.
“You look exhausted,” he comments.
“You, too.”
“We’re going to do this, you know?” he says, out of the blue. “We’re going to find the treasure....” He shakes his head, and I sit up, attention piqued. He blows out a breath. “I don’t know. More and more it feels like I’m trying to find the treasure for you rather than for myself.”
I swallow. “Don’t go saying things like that.”
“Why? You know it’s true.”
“Because it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“One of these days, it’ll matter,” he says, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “When I don’t have to rely on my family; when I can separate myself from my dad and do whatever the hell I want; when I’m not worried about the people closest to me dying because of some insane thug with dreams of owning a treasure stash.”
“How are you going to do all that?”
His jaw ticks. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “I’m not used to hearing that out of you.”