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“And do you still like Snickers?”

“Absolutely. It’s my favorite candy bar.”

I add, “Which logically means your favorite DQ Blizzard is Snickers, too, right?”

“Yep, you’ve figured me out. How about you?”

“Snickers are fine. I pretty much love anything with chocolate and peanuts. But the caramel can be a little much. So, I’m more of a Reese’s Pieces kind of guy. No pun intended. And I can get behind the peanut butter cups, too.”

“Every time I think about Reese’s, my mind jumps straight toE.T.,” she confesses. “And now you. Did your parents name you after the candy?”

“Hell, nah. We’ve already been over this. The river.”

“I know. I know.” I laugh. “But I couldn’t let that coincidence go without asking.”

“Fair enough. By the way,E.T. was one of my favorite movies as a kid, and it didn’t feel too far off being out here in the middle of Nowhere, Nevada. You see weird stuff sometimes. Things you can’t account for. Stuff that gets your mind questioning whether we’re the only critters in the universe.”

Esmeralda looks pensive for a moment. “I think there must be tons of other lifeforms out there. But I’m not sure if or when we want to actually meet them. Or maybe more accurately, if or when they want to meet us.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“So, do you have any nicknames I need to know about?”

I chuckle, weighing in my head what I want her to know about me. That said, she told me her silly childhood nickname, so I might as well confess mine. “Well, Grandpa called me Buster. So did a lot of people around Foxfire. It refers to my flawless childhood record as a Mutton Buster. But as with Snickers, I never want to hear it come out of your mouth.”

Esmeralda arches her eyebrows. “So, you participated in the rodeo as a kid?”

“Sure did and went on to compete in some local events as an adult, too. Still do on occasion, but I’ve got a bum knee.”

“Did you hurt it rodeoing?”

“Yep. Came off a horse wrong for steer wrestling, and the joint’s never been the same. The barn this afternoon didn’t help it. How about you? Is there any cowgirl behind your fancy jacket, boots, and hat?”

“I can ride, if that’s what you mean. And sometimes, I used to participate in rodeo parades with my mother. But I never really got into barrel racing or trying for rodeo queen. Not my thing.”

“Well, you’re my rodeo queen,” I croon.

“And you’re obviously my hopeless romantic.”

“Guilty as charged … but only for you.”

I stroke his beard, loving this side of the rugged rancher. “Back to the whole rodeo queen thing. I’ve always been a bit of a Tom girl, really. Pushing boundaries, trying to keep up with the boys. That kind of thing. I have three older brothers, which encouraged that fixation. And then, once I got older and Grandpa enlisted my help for the treasure hunt, I became an avid reader and researcher.”

“Tell me more about how you and your Grandpa researched the map.”

“Well, the hardest part was finding Gunner Ridge Ranch. I can’t tell you how long and arduous that research was. Atfirst, we thought there was no hope. After all, nothing else in my great-grandfather’s papers identified the location. But as I dug deeper into Tyler Eldon Hayes’s past, I uncovered his birth certificate, death certificate, and a newspaper article from theFoxfire Valley Chronicleabout a bar fight involving him.”

“Foxfire Valley Chronicle? Never heard of it.”

“It’s long been defunct. Anyway, from there, it wasn’t too hard to piece together which ranch Hayes worked at. There were less than a handful back then. Once we had a general location, Grandpa and I poured over historic newspapers and maps to identify locations and landmarks. That’s about the time I ran across a real gem. Discussion in theChronicleabout the fabled El Cortez treasure with mention of Hayes. He may have been a ranch hand on your family’s homestead, but he was also involved in various archaeological digs as a shovel bum. Seems like he was looking for his golden ticket. But what clinched Gunner Ridge Ranch as the spot were a couple of fascinating topographical anomalies that we found noted on old WPA maps.”

“Angel, it sounds like you and your grandpa have already done more than enough work for the both of us. That’s impressive.”

“That. Exactly. I haven’t even mentioned the research that went into better understanding the El Cortez treasure and what it might include. I learned Spanish online, pouring over historical documents from North America’s earliest explorers. But even then, I had to hire a translator to assist with an obscure document located in Mexico City. One of the many books banned by the Vatican in the sixteenth century and burned en masse. Fortunately, one original copy survived. It’s the only document I’ve found, apart from the newspaper article, that mentions the El Cortez treasure by name. Otherwise, it’s as if the trove was wiped from history.”

We pull up to the spot, still swarming with UFO hunters. I park the car next to a monstrosity that can’t be done justice by the black of night, rounding the car to open the passenger door just as Esmeralda clicks and opens it on her own.

“Hey, hold it, wife,” I scold. “That’s my job.” I stand in front of the door, doing my best to look upset until she closes it again. “Thank you,” I smile, opening it for her and offering her my hand.