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Prologue
Her father was no longer young.
The realization came to Manda with an odd sense of shock. She had never thought Spencer Delaney would grow old. Somehow, he had always been like the land he held so dear—immortal, enduring, and strong enough to turn any defeat into a victory. Yet the man she saw bending over the tractor out in the farmyard was neither strong nor immortal. His hair, which at one time had been brick-red, was now almost entirely gray, and he was thin, too thin. His arm, braced against the seat of the tractor, was not the healthy bronze color she remembered, and it was webbed with a network of prominent blue veins. He shouldn’t be out there working, she thought anxiously. They had all tried to stop him, but he had refused to listen. He was in a fever of desperation, and fever victims were seldom reasonable.
“So we’re agreed?” Sydney asked.
Manda looked away from the window to Sydney and Addie, who sat across from her at the round oak table. She had to try not to look at him, she told herself. She didn’t want to think of her father as old or sick. She always wanted him to be the strong, joyous man she had known as a child. “Right. We’ve got to keep our individual goals in mind, but if one of us needs help, the other two will come running. We’ve got to remember this is a joint project. We all must succeed.”
Addie nodded in agreement. “But what about Dad? It’s important we keep this a secret. There’s potential danger in all our plans, and we can’t worry him.” She made a face. “You two have it a heck of a lot easier than I do. He’s bound to hear about what I’m doing.”
She was right. The newspaper stories that were sure to come would give Addie a king-size headache. Manda felt a throb of sympathy as she realized how much Addie was going to hate being the focus of attention of the entire country.
“Do the best you can,” Sydney said. “And if you need any help, ring us.”
On the surface Sydney appeared as coolly controlled as ever, but the tension she was experiencing could be seen in her slim, graceful hands that were folded tightly on the table. Manda felt a momentary spurt of exasperation mixed with affection. Sydney was playing the older sister again by trying to keep them all calm.
“I’ll be on the move constantly, so I’ll check in often,” Addie said. “And since I’ll be closest to home, I’ll be the one to keep an eye on Dad.”
“Good,” Sydney said. “Be sure and let us know if anything changes with him.”
Suddenly Manda’s exasperation at her sister disappeared like morning mist in the sunlight. She wanted to jump up and run around the table to give her older sister a big hug. It wouldn’t take much effort to break through Sydney’s fragile, brittle facade to uncover the loving woman beneath. She responded to affection like a thirsty blossom to spring rain. Manda heaved a sigh and decided she’d better leave well enough alone. Sydney needed the crystal wall she had built around her emotions. She drew a deep, shaky breath. “Lord, I’m scared. What if we blow it?”
Addie and Sydney looked at her in surprise. For Pete’s sake, Manda thought, didn’t they think she ever worried or became frightened or uncertain? It was true she was prone to act first and think later, but this was different.
The Black Flame. The forty-five-carat black opal was the stuff of which fables were made. Who knew if it even existed? It might be only a legend passed down through the family for generations. Charles Delaney might have been boasting when he had written to his wife, Mignon, that he had uncovered and then hidden a giant opal from the human predators who roamed Deadman’s Ridge. And, if he had found it, why did she believe she could discover its hiding place, when, after eighty years, the jewel had never been found?
“I’m scared too,” Addie said softly.
Manda smiled gratefully at Addie. Somehow she doubted Addie was truly frightened; it was likely she was trying to make her feel better by placing herself in the same boat as Manda. Addie’s gaze was filled with pure determination.
“We all are,” Sydney said. She reached out and tightly clasped hands with her sisters. “But we won’t fail, because we can’t.” She smiled with an effort. “This isn’t another one of Manda’s trips to the sea. This dream has got to become a reality.”
Manda felt her heart lift. What was she worried about? Together, she, Addie, and Sydney were an unbeatable combination. They had only to set out on their separate courses, steering full speed ahead. The navigational metaphor made her smile. In spite of Sydney’s denigrating reference to her trip to the sea, that particular journey hadn’t been a total failure. She had always believed that if they hadn’t been discovered, they would have made it all the way.
Well, now they had another chance, another odyssey to make together, and this time there would be no stopping them.
One
“It’s no use, Jacto.” Manda jerked a blue and white handkerchief from the back pocket of her cut-off jeans and used it to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. “There’s no place down in the primary tunnel where old Charlie could have hidden his cache. I’ve looked everywhere, and I’ve seen only dust, rusted machinery, and rubble.”
Jacto handed her a cup of tea. His hollow-cheeked black face was as impassive as always. “So you will try another tunnel tomorrow,” he said calmly. “You said there were four more tunnels in the mine. You will find the treasure eventually.”
Manda sank down onto the ground in front of the campfire, crossing her legs and cradling the tin cup between her palms. “But will it be in time? I spent three days searching that blasted tunnel and didn’t come up with a clue as to where Charlie could have hidden the jewel. And this was the shortest tunnel in the mine.” She sighed as her despondent gaze traveled over the desolate terrain. The vast opal field that stretched in every direction was pockmarked with nearly a hundred mine openings that reminded her of the craters of the moon. “We’re lucky everyone believes the field is played out, or we’d really be in trouble. Can you imagine me marching up to a miner who had filed on Charlie’s old claim to ask him if I could please search his mine?” She made a face. “He’d probably blow me away. In Coober Pedy the miners protect their claims with Doberman pinschers and shotguns.”
Jacto waited. Manda Delaney wasn’t often discouraged, and he knew this mood wouldn’t last long. He had only to be silent, and her usual sunny optimism would reassert itself.
She took a sip of tea. “Well, I still have four weeks, and that can be a long time.”
“You are obviously trying to stretch it longer,” Jacto said dryly. “You have not slept more than a few hours a night for the past three days.”
“I don’t need a lot of sleep. Four hours is usually enough for me. It’s too hot to sleep anyway.”
Jacto nodded. “Over a hundred degrees. It must be ten degrees hotter down in the mine.”
“At least.” Manda lifted her shoulder-length hair and wiped her neck. No breeze blew to cool the hot night, but the air still felt good. She should have braided her hair after she had washed it earlier that afternoon, she realized, but it had felt so good to leave it flowing free after having confined it for the last few days. She had felt stifled and confined herself in the mine, and being out in the open was inexpressibly soothing. How beautiful the tranquil desert night was, with its limitless space and blazing stars. “And sometimes the dust is so thick I can hardly breathe.”
Jacto’s lids veiled his eyes. “You could give up. After all, you are only a woman. No one expects you to undergo such discomfort.”
Manda lifted her head like a racehorse who had just heard the bell at the starting gate. “What do you mean, only a—” She stopped and began to chuckle. “Lord, I must be more tired than I thought. I almost rose to the bait. You’re a wicked old man, Jacto.” She took another sip of tea. “And I’m a fool to get upset when I’ve scarcely begun to search. Right?”
The faintest trace of a smile deepened the corners of the Aborigine’s lips. “I do not presume to judge.”
Manda slowly shook her head, her amber eyes once more snapping with their customary good humor and vitality. “Not verbally anyway. You just sit there behind that inscrutable mask, and let me talk myself in doing exactly what you want me to do.”
“What you want to do,” he corrected her mildly. “Your treasure has no value to me. However, I find it interesting to watch you search. You are usually not this … intense.”
He realized at once he had used the wrong word. Manda was always intense about everything she did, every project she undertook. Yet her intensity always held an element of joyousness, as if the journey itself were as thrilling as reaching the final destination. But, the joyousness she usually felt was missing during this particular quest. Manda, despite her wanderlust, was very close to her family, and he should have known she would not take her father’s plight lightly. No, the word he should have chosen was desperate.
