want to love you again. This time slowly and thoroughly.”
A ribbon of heat uncoiled within Diana, and she sighed. “Tomorrow is tomorrow,” she agreed. Reaching up, she slid her arms around Wes’s broad shoulders and drew him down upon her.
* * *
The cool morning air seemed in direct contrast to their heated night of loving. Diana stood with Wes at the entrance to Boynton Canyon. Her body still tingled, and she was vibrantly aware of him standing at her side, map in hand. It was nearly 6:00 a.m., the sky a cloudless blue, early sunlight striking the thousand-foot red-and-white cliffs before them. Boynton was a box canyon, they’d discovered. Although it was long and rectangular, a high rock wall prevented exit at the other end.
“This path seems familiar,” she told Wes, pointing to a well-trodden trail of red dirt littered with red, white and black stones.
He frowned and looked at the entrance. “I don’t see any singer in the rock face.”
“I know, but can we hike down the trail a little bit? Officer Thomas said the actual entrance to the canyon is a mile and a half away.”
With a nod, Wes refolded the map and tucked it away in his knapsack. Today they both wore jeans and loose cotton shirts. Wes had given Diana a baseball cap to protect her head from the sun that would soon be blistering down on them from overhead. In the knapsack he carried a knife, several bottles of water and some trail mix. His revolver was hidden beneath the lightweight cotton jacket he wore.
Motioning to the left, he growled, “I see some enterprising businessman put a fancy resort at the entrance of this canyon. What made him do something like that? It ruins the atmosphere of the place.”
Answering anger sizzled through Diana. “As I understand it, this entire canyon is sacred to the Apache and Yavapai people. It was Forest Service land until they sold it to a rich white man. Now, with this resort, the canyon’s sacredness has been desecrated.”
The monstrosity looked painfully out of place in the natural beauty that surrounded it. Wes put an arm around Diana’s shoulder momentarily. “I wish they could have left something this special alone and untouched.”
She shook her head. “Greedy businessmen see this beauty and want to put something man-made right in the middle, Wes.” She took in a ragged breath. “They see only dollar signs and growth potential, not the deeper, more sacred needs of others. This path was made by Native Americans who would not be turned away from coming here to pray, to perform the ceremonies of their people deep in the canyon, beyond the resort.”
“Then let’s get going. We’ll hike to the canyon mouth,” Wes murmured, giving her a quick hug and releasing her. He felt guilty. After all, he was a white man, too. But he quickly separated himself from that stereotype as they hiked the rugged path. The beauty of the canyon was stunning—he could certainly see why some astute businessman would want to place a resort at Boynton. Dark green juniper lined the path, and century plants with their long, thin spiked leaves grew everywhere. The red-barked manzanita bushes were swollen with dark brown berries that had hardened beneath the hot sun. Prickly pear cactus also proliferated in the area, its purple “pears” ripe for the picking. Dozens of birds flew and rested and sang in the natural cover the terrain presented.
The trail paralleled the edge of the resort property, where huge, glaring signs read Keep Out, Private Property. Violators Will Be Prosecuted. That alone, Wes mused, was enough to make everyone feel unwelcome.
Diana kept looking up at the stone walls that rose at least a thousand feet straight up on either side of the canyon. Just hiking with Wes was a pleasure, making the morning even more special. She walked ahead of him, her hiking stick in hand, careful to watch where she placed her feet on the rocky, dusty trail. They’d walked for another twenty minutes when she heard
A ribbon of heat uncoiled within Diana, and she sighed. “Tomorrow is tomorrow,” she agreed. Reaching up, she slid her arms around Wes’s broad shoulders and drew him down upon her.
* * *
The cool morning air seemed in direct contrast to their heated night of loving. Diana stood with Wes at the entrance to Boynton Canyon. Her body still tingled, and she was vibrantly aware of him standing at her side, map in hand. It was nearly 6:00 a.m., the sky a cloudless blue, early sunlight striking the thousand-foot red-and-white cliffs before them. Boynton was a box canyon, they’d discovered. Although it was long and rectangular, a high rock wall prevented exit at the other end.
“This path seems familiar,” she told Wes, pointing to a well-trodden trail of red dirt littered with red, white and black stones.
He frowned and looked at the entrance. “I don’t see any singer in the rock face.”
“I know, but can we hike down the trail a little bit? Officer Thomas said the actual entrance to the canyon is a mile and a half away.”
With a nod, Wes refolded the map and tucked it away in his knapsack. Today they both wore jeans and loose cotton shirts. Wes had given Diana a baseball cap to protect her head from the sun that would soon be blistering down on them from overhead. In the knapsack he carried a knife, several bottles of water and some trail mix. His revolver was hidden beneath the lightweight cotton jacket he wore.
Motioning to the left, he growled, “I see some enterprising businessman put a fancy resort at the entrance of this canyon. What made him do something like that? It ruins the atmosphere of the place.”
Answering anger sizzled through Diana. “As I understand it, this entire canyon is sacred to the Apache and Yavapai people. It was Forest Service land until they sold it to a rich white man. Now, with this resort, the canyon’s sacredness has been desecrated.”
The monstrosity looked painfully out of place in the natural beauty that surrounded it. Wes put an arm around Diana’s shoulder momentarily. “I wish they could have left something this special alone and untouched.”
She shook her head. “Greedy businessmen see this beauty and want to put something man-made right in the middle, Wes.” She took in a ragged breath. “They see only dollar signs and growth potential, not the deeper, more sacred needs of others. This path was made by Native Americans who would not be turned away from coming here to pray, to perform the ceremonies of their people deep in the canyon, beyond the resort.”
“Then let’s get going. We’ll hike to the canyon mouth,” Wes murmured, giving her a quick hug and releasing her. He felt guilty. After all, he was a white man, too. But he quickly separated himself from that stereotype as they hiked the rugged path. The beauty of the canyon was stunning—he could certainly see why some astute businessman would want to place a resort at Boynton. Dark green juniper lined the path, and century plants with their long, thin spiked leaves grew everywhere. The red-barked manzanita bushes were swollen with dark brown berries that had hardened beneath the hot sun. Prickly pear cactus also proliferated in the area, its purple “pears” ripe for the picking. Dozens of birds flew and rested and sang in the natural cover the terrain presented.
The trail paralleled the edge of the resort property, where huge, glaring signs read Keep Out, Private Property. Violators Will Be Prosecuted. That alone, Wes mused, was enough to make everyone feel unwelcome.
Diana kept looking up at the stone walls that rose at least a thousand feet straight up on either side of the canyon. Just hiking with Wes was a pleasure, making the morning even more special. She walked ahead of him, her hiking stick in hand, careful to watch where she placed her feet on the rocky, dusty trail. They’d walked for another twenty minutes when she heard
Similar Books
