keeping his eyes conspicuously upon the winding road ahead.
"It's got a very colorful history, you know," he went on. "Indians used to say it was haunted."
Crystal's eyes widened, more at his sudden talkativeness than at the legend. "Really? Just because this one man defeated them there?"
"Oh, no. The rock has figured in Indian lore since before recorded history. Different tribes used to worship there. Human sacrifices and whatnot. Some of them believed their gods lived on top of the rock. Probably because of the strange lights and sounds that come from it at night."
"You're kidding," she breathed out skeptically. For an answer, he slanted his eyes mysteriously and grinned. "It's not really haunted," she insisted. "That's just plain ridiculous."
His face broke into a wide smile that sent an inexplicably warm glow through her, and it was she who shifted uncomfortably in her seat this time.
"Well, I suppose you could make a case either way." He laughed.
Probing blue eyes turned upon her, and Crystal felt the breath catch in her throat. She turned quickly back to the safety of her window.
A while later, they turned west onto a dirt road and drove through a cloud of reddish dust for several miles. It had been some time since another automobile had passed them, and now there was not even a gate to break the monotony of fencing.
"How much farther to the ranch?" Crystal asked anxiously, feeling an uncanny excitement building up inside the cab of the El Camino.
"Technically, we've been on the ranch for the last twenty minutes, but the house is just ahead."
As if to confirm his report, the rig joustled over a cattle guard across the road, its wheels making rubbery knocking noises against the regularly spaced pipes welded at either end to pipes running crosswise over a shallow ditch.
A dozen questions leaped to the fore of Crystal's mind, but she did not want to press her luck by asking any of them. It seemed that Garrett Dean did not mind volunteering information when the mood struck him, but apparently he did not like being questioned, at least not by city girls. So she kept her silence and watched anxiously as the El Camino tore over the road toward their final destination.
A little farther, they topped a hill and the rig slowed as the gate came into view. It was really quite elaborate.
Beneath a high arch in the adobe wall that ran for some distance on either side of the heavy black wrought-iron gate before giving way to whitewashed fencing, there hung a thick wood sign that read "Heritage Ranch." As the El Camino approached, Garrett reached over his head and pressed a small rectangular black box affixed to the visor. The heavy wrought-iron gate swung open smoothly, and they drove through into a fairytale land of Spanish palaces, manicured lawns, and enchanting gardens.
Crystal's gasp must have been audible, for Garrett glanced in her direction. He stopped the rig in a paved parking area at the foot of a long, sloping alameda. Just the alameda itself was breathtaking, with its trellises of grapevines intertwining with fragrant honeysuckle to form a sort of long, low, wide tunnel over the stone footpath.
The house sat enthroned like a huge reclining Spanish giant at the top of the hill just beyond the alameda. It was a long, single-storied structure of brilliant white adobe with tall arched windows laced in black wrought-iron grillwork. Its slanting red roof stood out in vivid contrast.
Garrett sounded the horn, its tinny blast shattering the quiet solemnity and making Crystal jump.
"This is it," he announced. "Home."
Chapter Four
"Hey, boss! Welcome back!"
Crystal peered into the shade at the sound of the heavily Spanish-inflected voice and spotted a queer bow-legged creature in droopy cowboy hat and pointy-toed boots hurrying down the hill toward them.
"Hey, Petie! Glad to be back," Garrett called, getting out of the car. "Give a hand here, will you?" He moved away to begin unloading Crystal's luggage from
"It's got a very colorful history, you know," he went on. "Indians used to say it was haunted."
Crystal's eyes widened, more at his sudden talkativeness than at the legend. "Really? Just because this one man defeated them there?"
"Oh, no. The rock has figured in Indian lore since before recorded history. Different tribes used to worship there. Human sacrifices and whatnot. Some of them believed their gods lived on top of the rock. Probably because of the strange lights and sounds that come from it at night."
"You're kidding," she breathed out skeptically. For an answer, he slanted his eyes mysteriously and grinned. "It's not really haunted," she insisted. "That's just plain ridiculous."
His face broke into a wide smile that sent an inexplicably warm glow through her, and it was she who shifted uncomfortably in her seat this time.
"Well, I suppose you could make a case either way." He laughed.
Probing blue eyes turned upon her, and Crystal felt the breath catch in her throat. She turned quickly back to the safety of her window.
A while later, they turned west onto a dirt road and drove through a cloud of reddish dust for several miles. It had been some time since another automobile had passed them, and now there was not even a gate to break the monotony of fencing.
"How much farther to the ranch?" Crystal asked anxiously, feeling an uncanny excitement building up inside the cab of the El Camino.
"Technically, we've been on the ranch for the last twenty minutes, but the house is just ahead."
As if to confirm his report, the rig joustled over a cattle guard across the road, its wheels making rubbery knocking noises against the regularly spaced pipes welded at either end to pipes running crosswise over a shallow ditch.
A dozen questions leaped to the fore of Crystal's mind, but she did not want to press her luck by asking any of them. It seemed that Garrett Dean did not mind volunteering information when the mood struck him, but apparently he did not like being questioned, at least not by city girls. So she kept her silence and watched anxiously as the El Camino tore over the road toward their final destination.
A little farther, they topped a hill and the rig slowed as the gate came into view. It was really quite elaborate.
Beneath a high arch in the adobe wall that ran for some distance on either side of the heavy black wrought-iron gate before giving way to whitewashed fencing, there hung a thick wood sign that read "Heritage Ranch." As the El Camino approached, Garrett reached over his head and pressed a small rectangular black box affixed to the visor. The heavy wrought-iron gate swung open smoothly, and they drove through into a fairytale land of Spanish palaces, manicured lawns, and enchanting gardens.
Crystal's gasp must have been audible, for Garrett glanced in her direction. He stopped the rig in a paved parking area at the foot of a long, sloping alameda. Just the alameda itself was breathtaking, with its trellises of grapevines intertwining with fragrant honeysuckle to form a sort of long, low, wide tunnel over the stone footpath.
The house sat enthroned like a huge reclining Spanish giant at the top of the hill just beyond the alameda. It was a long, single-storied structure of brilliant white adobe with tall arched windows laced in black wrought-iron grillwork. Its slanting red roof stood out in vivid contrast.
Garrett sounded the horn, its tinny blast shattering the quiet solemnity and making Crystal jump.
"This is it," he announced. "Home."
Chapter Four
"Hey, boss! Welcome back!"
Crystal peered into the shade at the sound of the heavily Spanish-inflected voice and spotted a queer bow-legged creature in droopy cowboy hat and pointy-toed boots hurrying down the hill toward them.
"Hey, Petie! Glad to be back," Garrett called, getting out of the car. "Give a hand here, will you?" He moved away to begin unloading Crystal's luggage from
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