Stephen’s calf was throbbing again, his head hurt; he was tired of the goddamn treasure. Leaning back against the rock, he sank down, placing the pistols, wrapped in cloth, beside him. This search might take days or weeks. He opened his eyes and watched Josie pace off another section of sand.
What was he to do with her? She couldn’t stay here with him. It was far too dangerous. He hadn’t wasted his time this afternoon trying to convince her to stay at the inn while he returned to the cove. He knew she would demand to go where he went.
The best he could do was to keep her inside while he bought supplies, and even that had been a fight. He knew being shot at last night had scared her, but it still wasn’t enough to dissuade her from continuing their search. And the longer they searched, the longer they stayed in Polperro, the more dangerous it would be for them.
The more dangerous it would be for her. He didn’t care what happened to him. If he didn’t find the treasure, he would make his fortune another way. But he could not allow her to be harmed. He’d sworn to protect her, even if it was a promise made to himself, and he would see it through.
The problem was how to convince Josie to see things his way.
Impossible, he knew. Closing his eyes again, he leaned his head back. He wished he had a drink. He wished he had a bed. He wished . . .
The sand beneath his right buttock was sinking, and Stephen put his hand down to keep from falling sideways.
His hand sunk, too.
He opened his eyes and pulled his hand away to study the ground. There was a dip beside him, a place where the sand sank away.
Lifting his lantern, he studied the rock beside him. He didn’t see anything unusual at first, but then . . . wait . . .
Stephen rose and ran to one of the shovels. Shovel in hand, he began to tear at the sand where he’d been sitting. The sand cleared easily away, and then Stephen saw the gap in the rock. It was a large gap, big enough for him to stick a hand through.
He put his hand between the shelf of rock that had obviously been placed over the cave’s entrance and the rock of the cliff. Between the spaces, the air was cool, damp.
His throat closed, and he looked at Josie. She was standing, watching him, her eyes huge and expectant. He couldn’t speak, but his face must have spoken volumes because she rushed toward him, carrying her own lantern and grabbing another on the way.
“You’ve found it,” she said for him.
He nodded. She watched as he inserted his hand into the gap again.
“Oh, my God.” Pushing him aside, she did the same. “There’s a cave here.” He could see her hand move and knew she was wriggling her fingers behind the rock. “They put a rock over it to conceal it, and over time the sand has deposited against it. Do you think we can dig the rock out? Open the cave?”
“Get a shovel,” Stephen commanded. He was already bent and digging. A moment later, Josie was beside him, flinging sand over her shoulder. It was soft and loose, and they cleared the edges of the rock within a quarter of an hour.
“How are we to move it?” Josie asked, defining one edge of the boulder by scraping more sand away. “It’s wedged in well. They may have had twenty men lift it and put it in place.”
Stephen shook his head. “They would have kept the number of men who knew about the hiding place to a minimum. Our grandfathers and one or two others at most. More than likely, it was only our grandfathers. Let’s give it a try.”
They finished defining the edges first, scraping as much sand away as possible, and then Stephen rocked one side back and forth to loosen it. When it gave, Josie wedged her slim shoulder in the growing gap between rock and cave and pushed, while he pulled from the outside. Slowly, the rock came away.
“I can fit inside!” Josie exclaimed, her voice punctuated with pants. “Just a bit more, and we can both make it through.”
Stephen summoned the last of his strength and heaved at the rock. It moved with a groan; his or the rock’s, he couldn’t be sure. With an excited yip, Josie disappeared inside the cave, and he lifted his lantern then followed.
The entrance was low, and he had to bend to fit his shoulders inside. Even then, the top of his head scraped the ceiling. It was pitch-black inside and silent, a drastic change from the noise of the breeze and the waves outside. In front of him, Josie blocked what little he could see of the cave’s interior.
“See anything?” he whispered. For some reason, whispering seemed appropriate.
“No, but there’s a bend. Let’s see if it widens there.” Stepping carefully, she wended her way through the narrow opening and deeper into the cave. Stephen followed, stooping the farther in they went. Just when the cave began to close in, the walls pressing against him, and he was about to balk at taking another step, Josie moved forward and spread her arms wide. “This is so much better,” she whispered, turning to face him. The smile on her face was contagious.
He stepped into the new room and lifted his lantern. Over her shoulder, in the dribble of light from the lantern, he saw the glint of gold.
“Josie,” he whispered. “Josie, turn around.”
She spun around, holding her lantern aloft. In the soft glow, a spill of gold glistened. Stephen stepped closer, illuminating three huge black chests, and the gold that glittered was centered on the floor beneath one whose lock was broken. Even from this distance, Stephen could see the skull and crossbones etched on the locks—an etching that matched the key they’d found in his grandfather’s box.
With halting steps, Josie moved forward, slipped her fingers under the lid of the damaged chest, and flipped it open. The shock of golden light from within caused her to inhale sharply and step back, plowing into him.
She stood there, and he could feel the warmth and tension radiating from her.
