Too Far Down

by Mary Connealy

  And he remembered that itch between his shoulder blades from yesterday when he rode out alone. He didn’t like that either. Two alert riders were a lot safer than one.

  He knew he was the worst kind of rat to pay his attentions to her that night when he couldn’t make any promises. Not yet. Not until he’d decided whether to make his life here.

  God, help me to know your will.

  How many times had he prayed that? But this was the first time it’d been about Mel.

  He looked at her.

  Mel noticed and smiled a bit too sweetly. As a rule, she wasn’t all that sweet. She rode quietly, and Cole thought he’d do his best to ignore her the whole way. Nevertheless, he was finding her harder to ignore with every minute that went by.

  “Cole, will you tell me about your grandparents?”

  Even harder to ignore that. “I talked about ’em enough. What can I tell you that you don’t already know?”

  “I’ve heard bad things and seen some of it myself, but you loved them, didn’t you?”

  “I did.” He thought of the cruel plans he now suspected his grandparents had for his family and the CR, and his love was tarnished now.

  “Well, whether or not they were using their power and influence to throw your family off their land, you can still love them. But there must be more to them than that or you wouldn’t care so much, so tell me about their good side.”

  Cole turned silent for a moment, hating what he was about to say. “I’ve never admitted such a thing before about my grandparents’ ruthless side as I did yesterday. It only came when there was no possible way to deny their involvement. I had to ask myself just how far would they go to separate me from this ranch? My grandfather was a very rich man, and he used that wealth to make connections with politicians and anybody else who would help him make more money. He didn’t even need the money. It was . . . it was like a game that he played, and money was how he kept score.”

  Mel moaned so quietly, Cole wasn’t sure he heard it. He turned to look and saw her frowning. “What is it?”

  She gave a tiny shrug. “It’s just such a sad way to live. Was he a man of faith?”

  “They went to church every Sunday, but”—Cole didn’t like to admit this—“I never heard either of them speak of God in their day-to-day life. Not even to pray before a meal. Their faith, whatever it was, they kept to themselves.”

  “Hopefully they kept it to themselves and God.”

  Nodding, Cole said, “I always knew their values were wrong, but even so, they were kind to me. Yes, they doted on me and tried to spoil me, but they were always kind. Grandmother spent time with me when I was between classes. She wanted to know everything about college. Grandfather took me in with him to work. He owned banks and railroads and steel mills. He owned immense stretches of land, tall buildings, and ships. His holdings were so vast it was hard to grasp, but he was determined I would grasp it all. More than just grasp it, he wanted me to understand his company completely and learn how to manage it all. He spent time teaching me with patience all he knew. And he talked about my ma and how much he loved her and how much he wanted to shower all that on me.”

  “Then they both died?”

  “Grandfather died just weeks after I finished my studies at Harvard, and his dying wish was that I take care of Grandmother and look after his company. After he died, I found out he’d left everything to me. Grandmother inherited the right to live on in their Boston mansion, and she was granted a generous income, but I owned it all. By that time, Grandmother was in her eighties and in poor health. Although I planned to go home after college, I’d promised Grandfather, and she had no one else, so I stayed. She lived nearly six more years. During that time, she was very dependent on me, and running the company was, I’ll admit, exciting.”

  “Are you saying,” Mel asked quietly, “when your grandmother died, you didn’t want to come home?”

  Cole had to admit the woman was a good listener. She’d heard things he hadn’t even said. But he’d been thinking them. He gripped his saddle horn and looked at the ground. “I left things behind that I enjoyed.”

  “But you did come.”

  “I missed everyone out here the whole time I was away. I figured on spending summers at home, and I can see now that my grandparents went out of their way to make my going home difficult. They took me on trips, and Grandfather gave me jobs and paid me well for them. Also, the trip home was a mighty long journey. So I never made it. I never hesitated to come, though, once it was possible. I made preparations for it while Grandmother was still living. The holdings were all mine, and I’d been arranging my affairs, selling off parts of the company for a couple of years. Finding managers I could trust to take control until they were sold. Grandmother wouldn’t have liked it, but she was failing, stone deaf, and had taken to her bed. She wasn’t aware of what I was doing. When she died, all I could think was that finally I could come home.”

  “But you’re thinking about going back, right? I mean, you like the business world. You miss it.”

  Cole didn’t want to say how much he missed the businesses. They were all sold now. Anyway, he couldn’t very well run them from here. Everything was gone . . . everything except the money. Besides the pile of cash sitting in a bank under his name, he had investments spread out here and there. And yet here he was in New Mexico Territory. Beyond using some of his money to build himself a house in Skull Gulch, he needed none of that wealth.

  He let out a deep sigh. “I did like it, and I was good at it. But there’s plenty of business involved in running the mine. Pa saw I was interested and gave me full control of it. I expect once we get to the bottom of these attacks on our family, we . . . uh, I mean I can settle down here for a lifetime. I love my family, and I missed New Mexico.”

  “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, Cole.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that.

  “And not being sure that this is the life you want is why you said it was wrong to kiss me, is that right?”

  Hoofbeats pounding from behind drew his attention to Heath, who was catching up. While Cole had forgotten all about him, he was real glad to see him now.

  “Thought we were riding together,” Heath said, his eyes flicking between Cole and Mel.

  Without comment, Cole said, “Let’s pick up the pace. I want to get to the mine and then go straight to work.”

  He kicked his horse into a ground-eating gallop. He couldn’t keep this pace up for the whole trip, but it felt like he was running away from all Mel’s questions, which struck him as a mighty fine idea.

  19

  Mel found Uncle Walt sitting in the sun outside her mine.She wasn’t at all sorry to leave Cole behind, the idiot. “You don’t look like a man itching to find gold.”

  He sat on the ground, his back against the mountain, his legs extended. He’d been watching her approach.

  “I am a man who rises early and works until I can’t see. So I’ve been at it a while, digging around like a mole. I wanted some sunlight before this dad-blasted mountain starts casting us in shadows—which starts before the noonday meal. You got here early.”

  “Yep, I was mighty anxious this morning. I just couldn’t wait to come back and find all this gold I left behind.”

  Uncle Walt cracked a smile—and he was a serious man. “Today, Mel, we’re going down into the pit.”

  Mel flinched. “Can’t we just hide in the caves for a few hours and say we went down in the pit?”

  Another smile. “I approve of your lack of interest in gold mining, girl. But what do you figure this fuss is really about? The gold boom was over ten years ago and it was a rush if there ever was one.”

  “I remember it. I was used to riding the range with some freedom, but during those years Pa watched over me mighty careful.”

  “But that eased off and those with gold fever moved on to the next strike. Yes, there are veins of gold. I showed you one. Most of the men here make a small, steady i
ncome, yet I haven’t heard of a real strike for years.”

  “So men may find gold, though they’ll work long, hard hours for it and never strike it rich.”

  “Sounds like punching cattle or farming. For that matter, it sounds like most all jobs,” Walt said.

  “Except with gold there’s that dream you’ll hit the mother lode.”

  “It happens, just not real often. No one’s ever sure when it comes to gold. But that’s not why I’m going down. The attacks you’ve told me about were always aimed at the ranch. This explosion here at the mines don’t make no sense. They didn’t even directly attack Cole, and earlier attacks tried to harm family members.”

  Mel nodded. “Maybe they’d’ve been happy if Cole had gotten himself blown up, but their methods made that a long shot. Of course, they’ve arrested the men they knew were involved in their earlier troubles, so maybe this is the same trouble except a different group is running things now, one with different methods.”

  Walt seemed to mull that over a bit. “I’ve already been down into the pit at my cave. Hate it down there. I looked all around and didn’t find a thing that interested me. I don’t have access to all the mines—they’re spread all over the mountain for miles and miles—but this is the area that had the dynamite set. I just want to look around enough to make sure there isn’t something here worth driving the Bodens off for.”

  “All I see is a comfortably earning mine—if you’re willing to work long, grueling hours. Not a big strike. Let’s . . .” Mel fell silent and turned to stare at all the cave entrances. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Let’s go down into the pit. Maybe someone found something and talked about it to the wrong people.”

  “Bring all the light you can. We can each carry a lantern hooked over our arms. I’ll light mine for the climb, and we’ll handle yours and these contraptions for our heads once we’re down there. I’ve never seen this head lamp before but let’s give it a try. I think I’ve figured out how they work. We’ll need every bit of the fire we can get. It’s too far down into the belly of the earth for even the faintest ray of sunlight.”

  With no enthusiasm whatsoever, Mel nodded and did as she was told.

  “I’ll go first with the lit lantern. Don’t wait for me to get to the bottom. Come along quick so my light works for you, too.”

  Mel watched Uncle Walt descend in a narrow circle. Her throat went dry as he got smaller and smaller and the light dropped farther away. Before she could do much more thinking—for fear she’d come to her senses—she cautiously stepped out onto the ladder and, clinging ridiculously hard, went after him. Might as well get this over with and fast.

  There turned out to be two lanterns already down there. By the time she reached the bottom, Walt had them both going, and the candle was burning on his head lamp. He left his own lantern sitting on the floor, so they didn’t bother lighting Mel’s.

  She saw two pickaxes, too. She’d forgotten all about bringing that, which made her a failure as a miner.

  The pit was bigger than she’d expected. “I thought this would only be . . . maybe the size of the tunnel down. Honestly, it’s bigger than my cabin.”

  Her uncle nodded slowly. “The man who dug it was a fierce worker for a fact. It’s way bigger than the mine I found at the bottom of my cave. I asked around about the men who died and was told this particular mine made a steady income. Enough to pay the lease and keep the miner fed plus a little extra.”

  “But no more than that?” Mel felt her brow furrow.

  “There was no big pile of gold in his cabin, so unless he rode off to a town big enough to have a bank, or buried it somewhere, I reckon not.” Walt helped her light her own head lamp, then turned to the wall, the beam from his forehead glowing in a circle on the wall, brighter than the already well-lit space.

  “I’m going to spend a few hours going over this place, do a bit of chiseling. I’d appreciate your help.”

  The tone of Walt’s voice almost gave her permission not to help. Even to climb back up to the surface and sit in the sunlight for as long as it lasted. Instead, she got to work.

  An hour passed in silence, broken only by the clinking of their axes, though Mel had to admit that time was hard to judge in a place with no sun and sky in sight.

  She had to force herself to pay attention to the wall. More than once she caught herself daydreaming, her eyes unfocused, her ax idle as she wondered if the pastureland was greening up and the north spring running, or if the spring calves would start dropping soon.

  Then she pulled herself back to the job at hand and again started looking for a gold vein in the wall. Minutes later, a swing of her ax knocked a chunk of granite away, and a glint caught her attention.

  “Uncle Walt, come look. Is this gold?” If so, it was a nice wide vein.

  He came to her side and studied where her light was focused. “Yep, gold for sure. Let’s get to digging.”

  Hacking away at the wall, they finally broke loose a solid little nugget.

  “This is more than a twenty-dollar gold piece, Uncle Walt. I think it might make five of them.”

  “I reckon you’ve earned yourself a hundred dollars in an hour’s time.”

  Mel grinned at her uncle, then turned back to study the gold nugget in her hand.

  Walt moved a few paces over to chisel some more, and with a swing of his ax suddenly a huge slab of the wall fell away, a rock as big as a man.

  Walt jumped back as the boulder tumbled toward him. He was quick for an older man and dodged the rock with no trouble. It rolled a bit, then stopped.

  Mel’s head lamp, along with Walt’s, focused on the boulder. That was when she realized the rock glittered.

  Staring at it, Walt whistled quietly.

  “Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

  “Yep, I believe so.” He turned and aimed his head lamp at the wall where the boulder broke free. A portion of the wall shone a bright gold. “Look—that seam’s as thick as my finger. And who knows how deep it goes. There’s gold in this mine, girl. A lot of it. What’s more, we found it mighty easy.”

  Walt turned to her, and she met his gaze. “Hard to believe the man in here before us did all that digging but didn’t find this thick seam for himself.”

  “Real hard to believe, Uncle Walt. A man who just died in a very strange way.”

  The silence was as absolute as the darkness beyond their lantern light.

  At last, Walt broke it. “My understanding of these leases is that the men pay a monthly rate and give the Bodens a share of any gold they find. A common way of leasing claims. And Cole is known all around as the man who takes the smallest percent of any discoveries.”

  “So if this man had been finding a sizable amount of gold, Cole would surely know that, wouldn’t he?” Mel said. “Yet he didn’t seem to know a thing about it when he let us sign our leases.”

  Walt leaned his ax against the wall. “I think we oughta go have a talk with Cole.”

  “She’s awake.” Finn ran out of his ma’s bedroom so fast he bounced off one wall and nearly slammed into another. He skidded to a stop, smiled at Ronnie, turned and ran back. She was right on his heels.

  Chance was only a step behind her.

  “Mrs. Finn,” Ronnie said, moving to the thin woman’s bedside, “we’ve been so worried. Can you take a swallow of water?”

  Dr. Radcliffe straightened from listening to her heart and rested a hand on Bridget Finn’s skinny shoulders. He’d been to their house three days in a row while they doctored Bridget and waited for some improvement. “You saved her, son.”

  He practically glowed under the doctor’s fine praise. “I did?”

  “She had a fever. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Finn?”

  “Yes . . .” Her voice was little more than a croak, but it was as Irish as her unruly red curls. “All I’m rememberin’ is feeling hot and miserable, so I went to bed.”

  “I brought you water, Ma. I tried to get you to eat.” Finn pre
ssed close to the bed, until his next step forward would near to tuck him in with his ma.

  “The fever broke,” Dr. Radcliffe said. “You survived that, Mrs. Finn, but you were too weak and exhausted to wake up. You wouldn’t have lasted much longer if not for your boy here. He brought you help.”

  Bridget reached a trembling hand to her son, and he caught hold. “Thank you. A ma never had such a blessing as you, my fine laddie.”

  She spoke in such a weak voice and with the brogue it was hard to understand, but the love came through clearly.

  Bridget’s eyes went to the doctor, Chance, then Ronnie. “May God rain down blessings on you and all your kin. I’m forever in your debt, but I’ve no means to pay.” Worry creased her brow.

  The doctor got busy packing away supplies in his black bag. “Repay us by getting well, ma’am. It’s good to see you on the mend now.” Closing his bag, he turned to Chance. With a slight jerking of his head, the doctor left the room. Chance followed.

  Ronnie could see they had something to discuss. “I’ll be back with some warm broth, Bridget. We’ll build your strength up in no time.” She hurried out, not wanting to miss what the doctor obviously wanted to say to Chance.

  “So that will be at least a week.” The doctor saw Ronnie and smiled.

  “What will be a week?” she asked.

  “A week before a nurse can come. Mrs. Finn had influenza—there’s a lot of it going around—and I just told your husband I’ve had many requests for private nursing and we fill them as quickly as we can. I’m afraid it’ll be at least a week before someone’s free to help her. And I understand it’s not just nursing; you want someone to live here so you can leave? That may take even longer.”

  The pressure Ronnie had felt to get home was starting to rattle her all the way to her sturdy backbone.

  Dr. Radcliffe turned to his other patient. “You know that once you leave here, Chance, your leg is unlikely to show continued improvement. I think you can get much better than your current level of pain, and we can make your limp less pronounced.”