Too Far Down

by Mary Connealy

  “I do.” Cole felt his spirits lift. “It was so pretty it was ridiculous. Not like that cramped handwriting at all. Grandfather’s was like it came out of a Spenserian copybook. It was cleanly written and easy to read. They both had the handwriting of people who had been trained to write in the finest schools and who took pride in precision, though Grandmother liked to add a few flourishes.”

  He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of the graceful artwork of his grandmother’s hand. Then he had another thought. “That cramped handwriting really is strange. If we ever saw anyone with that handwriting, there’s a good chance we’d recognize it. And didn’t you say it was a combination of English and Spanish? I’d say it’s a mighty good guess that my grandparents didn’t speak a word of Spanish. Though both could speak French, and Grandpa read books in Latin quite often.”

  Cole had studied Latin in college and spoke French decently, yet he could read and write very little of it. He didn’t tell Justin that.

  “Good. Maybe mention of the Bradfords is just someone talking about all the possible factors in their plan. If your grandfather didn’t write it himself, then someone making notes to themselves might’ve thought your grandfather would make a dangerous enemy or a powerful ally. That doesn’t mean he was involved.”

  Cole was almost addled. Justin was being mighty nice. Not taking an easy chance to speak ill of the Bradfords, but doing his best to absolve them of guilt. In fact, Justin was being so nice, Cole had to ask, “Is there more? Did Ma come up with anything else?”

  “She said it was starting to make some sense once she figured out it was Mexican and English mixed and she was recognizing more letters. She wants Pa to stay and spend a little more time healing his leg. There are exercises the doc has him doing.”

  “He could do that at home.” Truth was Cole would like having Ma and Pa back.

  “But the doc somehow measures any improvement, then changes a few things. Ma said she’s never seen anything like it, and she can tell it’s working. She’s fretting that they won’t do as well on their own.”

  “Then I hope they take the time they need.” Or at least Cole knew he oughta hope that. He’d like them back here. Pa was the smartest man Cole knew, and that included his wealthy grandfather and all the professors at Harvard.

  “Pa’s pushing at the doc and Ma mighty hard.” Justin strode alongside Cole down the steep slope dotted with leased-out Boden mines. “He’s slap out of patience with Denver and wants to be back in New Mexico Territory on his own ranch. Ma said his leg won’t be injured by the train ride, but he’s got a pretty bad limp and a lot of pain yet. She’s hoping more of that will be fixed by the treatment he’s getting. Pa just figures he can ride and shoot as well with a bum leg as a good one. And aches and pains don’t stop a man from much.”

  “My Bradford grandparents and the old Don and Señora de Val.” Cole shook his head. “Two couples who don’t know each other and are long dead. What in the world is going on?”

  “Señora de Val isn’t dead,” Justin said.

  Both of them nearly stumbled to a halt. They exchanged a long look.

  “She isn’t dead, is she?” Justin repeated. “Ramone spoke of her.”

  “Spoke ill of her, in fact. Made her seem like a mighty cranky woman.” They were silent a few moments longer before walking on until they reached the mountain’s base. They passed the cabin where Mel was staying. Heath was visible down a heavily traveled path.

  Then Cole remembered the search through his files this morning. “I’ve got more I want to ask you before we join Heath.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I went through my filing cabinet to find out when these men, the ones who died, signed their first lease. I was hoping they all came in on the same day, but it’s not that clean cut.”

  “Nothing about this is clean.” Justin sounded weary from all that’d gone on. Cole knew just how he felt.

  “They came in within about a year and a half of each other. The men who dropped their mines had moved on, a couple of them just up and left. Men who’d been here a long time. Two headed out together, and from notes I found, there doesn’t seem to be anything to question in that. A third died from a fall off his horse.”

  That made them both fall silent for a while.

  “There’d’ve been no trouble with five men in eighteen months coming and going.”

  “Nope. The mines turn over, it happens a lot, but to have their mines and cabins all next to each other—that’s not gonna happen.”

  “So they opened up the leases slowly, and five men drifted in to fill the openings. Do we assume they banded together to run the men off?”

  “Or killed them.” Cole shook his head. “We have common sense to tell us something was going on, even all the way back then. But I want to know more, and Gully is the man who’d have answers. He was here.”

  “Murray too.” Justin glanced up at the headquarters. They could hear the sound of a hammer from here. Murray hard at work rebuilding the office.

  Cole felt like a traitor not to include him in their investigation. “There’s a divide between the miners and Murray. They just see him as soft, a city slicker. They treated me that way when I first got here, but I rolled up my sleeves and dug alongside them enough they decided I could be trusted. It’s not Murray’s fault he prefers a pen and paper to a pickax.”

  “I saw Gully riding north when I came in. The Boden mines stretch a long way over this mountain. I reckon he’ll be a while.”

  Justin clapped Cole on the shoulder. “We’ll get to the truth, big brother. For all the scheming that’s been going on, they haven’t won the fight yet.”

  “That’s the absolute truth. They’ve done plenty of damage, but we’ve whipped them every time. I’ll talk to Gully later.” Cole pointed ahead at Heath. “Let’s catch up with him and show him what reading signs looks like.”

  He grinned at Justin, who smiled back. It had been about the friendliest talk the two of them had ever had. They both knew Heath could out-track them anytime he wanted to, but they weren’t too bad at it. No sense in letting their little sister’s husband think he was in charge.

  11

  Mel tossed the pickax down in disgust and flipped her long braid over her shoulder. It kept dangling in front of her while she chiseled. “Uncle Walt, do you really want any gold?”

  They were in his mine. They each had their own but had agreed to stay together, for Mel’s safety and of course the ever-annoying concern of behaving properly.

  Mel had never been fond of the word proper, and now she was getting downright sick of it.

  “Don’t you want to find enough gold to buy your own ranch?” Uncle Walt held up what looked to Mel like a piece of gravel. Shiny gravel.

  “Is that gold?”

  “Yep.”

  “How long are we going to have to dig to get enough to even bother to count?”

  Walt laughed. He pointed at the wall. “This here is a seam of gold.”

  Mel picked up the lantern and moved close to the wall. “It’s about as wide as a hair.”

  “I’d say maybe three hairs, but yep, it’s thin. Chances are it’s about as deep, too.”

  “So how much is that worth?”

  Uncle Walt shrugged. “Your pa’s been known to pay his men with twenty-dollar gold pieces. You’ve seen them.” He held up the gravel-sized piece again.

  Mel nodded. “So if we dig out enough gold here to equal one of those coins, we’ll have twenty dollars?”

  “Yep, and depending on how deep the seam is, I doubt we’ll get a coin’s worth out of it.”

  “But maybe half a coin, ten dollars’ worth, and you’ll earn that with one day’s work.”

  “I can see you figuring it out, Mel. Your pa pays thirty a month and found.” Mel knew found meant food, and Pa also provided a bunkhouse for the men. So Pa paid with money, food, and a home.

  “And you can make ten dollars here today.” Mel did some figuring. “If w
e had this luck every day, we’d make ten dollars for thirty days in a row. That’s three hundred dollars a month—ten times what Pa pays a cowpoke. If a body was careful he could live a few years on three hundred dollars.”

  “And if his luck held for a year, he could make over three thousand.”

  Mel nodded. “He could make it if the gold held out.”

  Walt turned back to his modest gold strike. “If I find a seam like this every day . . . and if I don’t go mad from working underground like a mole all my life. But if the gold holds out, then yes, I can make enough in one month to live all year long. If I keep working a whole year, I might have enough to live for ten years. If I find a big fat seam, I could be a rich man who never has to work again. You can see the lure of it, can’t you? The chance to get real rich, real quick.”

  “So then why do folks come and stay for years? Why don’t they all get rich and leave?” Mel smiled even as she asked it. She went on, “It’s because they don’t all find even this tiny thread. They chisel until they get tired of working like a mole and go find a job that pays slow but steady.”

  “Yep. They usually start ambitious and a little gold crazy, but then they come to their senses after working their tails off and living mighty poor. For some it takes longer than others. For some they find just enough to live, maybe even get ahead slowly. For some they hear of a new gold strike and run off to find it, try their luck there. They can’t shake off their love of wandering and their lust to get rich quick. Not a lick of common sense figures into it.”

  Mel went back to the first thing Walt had said. “No, I don’t want to buy a ranch of my own. ’Course, I’m expecting to inherit one, so why would I need two? But how about you, Uncle Walt? Do you want one?” She shuddered to think of how long they’d have to dig to carve the cost of a ranch out of stone.

  “Nope, I’m mighty happy with your pa. Finding my brother and being allowed to be part of your family is the finest life I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t change a thing, no matter how much gold I found. I reckon, though, if I found enough it might be hard not to change. That’s why I’m hoping we don’t do well down here.”

  Mel looked around from the thin seam of gold to the arched cave with no sign of any more seams. “I think you’re going to get your wish. In fact, if you want to finish chiseling out that gold, I’ll go get a noon meal started. We can take a break to eat.” She looked again at the tiny seam and rolled her eyes. “A long break.”

  “Wait, I’ll come with you. I can dig out ten dollars later.” Uncle Walt chuckled. “I’ll have more fun talking to you while you cook.”

  “While I cook?” Mel glared at him as they climbed the ladder and stepped out into the warm sunlight. She sighed with relief. “Blue sky. It’s never looked prettier to me.”

  He caught up to her, and she smiled at him. “If you’re not mining, then you’re going to have to help me cook.”

  Uncle Walt laughed out loud. “Yes, Miss Melanie.”

  “Don’t call me—” She saw a strange bit of color lying in a mesquite scrub. “What is that?” She rushed over to the tree to look down at what was lying there. It was a kerchief, or some scrap, but of a strange red-and-yellow color. An unusual thing to find.

  Uncle Walt was beside her a second later, and he bent down and plucked the scrap of cloth out of the scrub. “Was this here earlier?”

  Mel’s eyes met his. “I don’t know. You think someone was hanging around out here? Maybe planning to set more dynamite?”

  “Or someone lost a kerchief the other day when they were up to mischief in front of this mine.”

  Six men brutally murdered was a lot nastier than mischief.

  “It’s an odd enough color,” Mel said, “that someone might recognize who it belongs to.”

  Uncle Walt held it out to her. “Whoever it belongs to, I’d like to ask a question about what he was doing out here. Let’s go see if we can find the Bodens.”

  “Take this coin and this note to Dr. Radcliffe.”

  The little waif reached for the coin eagerly, but Veronica pulled the money back. While it felt mean-hearted, she’d learned quickly that to get Finn’s attention, holding a coin in front of him was the best method. “Finn, there’s more. I’ll pay you extra if you will very carefully mind me.”

  The boy’s eyes lit up. Veronica’s soft mother’s heart wondered if Finn had a home or lived on the streets. She’d seen him loitering around in an alley when she stepped out to go to the general store and replenish their food cupboard. She’d offered to pay him to carry her parcels, even though she didn’t really need help.

  It was all she could do not to feed the little boy every meal. Overly thin, dressed in rags not warm enough for the season, Finn worried her. He had plenty of spirit and seemed like a decent boy who ran errands for her nearly every day, even when she had to make errands up. She always saw to it he had a slice of bread and a glass of milk every time she could offer him one, with an apple and a few cookies to take home.

  No doubt he had nice parents nearby who appreciated the bit of money he earned. But he should be in school, and his coat wasn’t thick enough in the cold Denver February.

  Veronica intended to find out if he needed help. And if he didn’t have a home or family, she planned to take him in.

  “I’ll listen close as can be, ma’am. Sure, and it’s glad I’d be to work more for you. I’ll follow your instructions real careful.” He had an Irish lilt to his voice that Veronica never tired of listening to. It was a match for his red curls and freckled face. He was a polite little guy, and as much as she wanted to help him, she had to be careful not to draw him into their mess.

  They’d had no trouble since moving here, but they’d been vigilant about secrecy. Even Dr. Radcliffe didn’t know where they lived for fear someone might follow him here on a visit.

  “Do you know the small diner about three blocks from the doctor’s office? It’s called Dewey’s Diner.”

  “Sure, I know it.” Finn sounded excited, or maybe hungry.

  “I want you to get my note delivered to the doctor and wait for him to write one back.”

  The man now under arrest for trying to kill Chance had found them before, even though Veronica and Chance had been in hiding. Veronica suspected they’d followed the doctor then, even though they’d gone to great lengths to keep their location a secret. If the attacker had cronies working with him, they might try that again. Because of that, Doc Radcliffe hadn’t come to their house and they hadn’t gone to his office.

  “Instead of running back here fast, I want you to go into the diner and get a meal. Eat it slowly. I am afraid someone might notice you at the doctor’s office and follow you. But if they see you go in to eat, they’ll decide you aren’t headed anywhere special, least of all to us. There might be men looking for my husband and me. I don’t want you to lead them to us, for your safety as well as ours.” She handed over two bits, besides what she’d already given him.

  “Are you sure it’s okay to stop and eat, ma’am? It’ll be a fine day when anyone can sneak up on Finn.” He pointed to his own puffed-out chest with his thumb. “I’m mighty careful at watchin’ behind me. If someone is following, I’d spot him and make sure he’s good and lost before I head over here.”

  “You watch carefully besides stopping to eat. Watch that you’re not followed. But taking time to stop and eat will seem less suspicious to anyone who might follow. If you make some obvious attempt to slip away from someone tailing you, it might attract their attention and they’ll start to wonder about you.”

  “I’ll eat, ma’am. I’ve never been to a diner before.”

  “Well, take plenty of time and enjoy your meal. Uh, Finn, I have another job for an adult.” Veronica was no hand at lying, but held the truth in highest regard. And right now, making up a job was a plain lie. “I’d like to hire your ma to do it, if she’s willing.” Veronica had asked this question in a different form a few times now, trying to get Finn to admit if he had a ma or
not.

  “Sure, and me ma’s busy at home, ma’am. I take care of the both of us.” The little urchin’s eyes shifted down and he talked to his feet. “She don’t want no job.”

  “Well, can you ask her? She might surprise you.”

  Finn shrugged one shoulder, turned, and dashed away.

  Scowling, Veronica watched him go. Then an affectionate smile replaced her scowl. Finn was tough, and he didn’t want to talk about his mother. Maybe if she kept letting him do little jobs for her, the day would come when he’d trust her. That was her hope and prayer.

  “So you wrote to the doctor, Ronnie?”

  She turned to smile at her husband. “Yes, just like we discussed. I told him in detail how you were progressing and asked for the next exercises he wants you to do. We have to be nearly done.”

  “That man is going to keep me here, doing strange stretches and motions with my leg, until I die of old age.” Chance walked with a limp and only rarely did he slip and let her see his pain. She wanted him to have every chance to completely heal.

  With a frown, he said, “I’m just about done putting up with it. My leg hurts less every day and what’s left of the pain I can live with. And I don’t limp anymore.”

  “Not much anyway,” Veronica said.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “And I can do the last of his exercises on my own. For heaven’s sake, I’m doing them on my own already. Dr. Radcliffe only knows what we tell him in the notes. And Doc Garner in Skull Gulch can help with anything more I need. They can write to each other. The mail travels fast these days.”

  Veronica approached her fussy husband. “Being patient and doing as you’re told has turned you into an old grizzly bear.” She pinched him gently on the chin.