“Quite,” Daniel said.
Mr. Grubaugh studied him. “My informant said that you might know the whereabouts of either Miss St. Clair or Miss Colorado.”
All trace of amusement faded. “Whereabouts? Was Miss St. Claire not at the Circle M?” He tensed, waiting for the answer.
“No,” the reporter said, lifting his eyebrows. “A hired hand told me she packed her bags and took a train out yesterday.”
“A train?”
“Why, yes. A train. Do you know wh—”
Daniel did not wait for another word. He unwrapped the reins from the post and flipped a coin to the stable boy, who was still holding a brush in his hand. Then he mounted, wheeled his horse around, and set off for the Circle M at a gallop.
o
Daniel moped around the Circle M until dinner, ate his supper in silence, and then paced the porch outside, as if by simply remaining where he had last seen Moira she would appear.
He understood how headstrong Moira could be.
He understood that he had helped open a door for her to go.
But he didn’t understand how Bryce and Odessa could just stand back and see her leave. Did they not know what danger a woman traveling alone might be in? Especially if someone found out who she was? His deputies’ comments about her being a target, as partial heir to the conquistador gold, rang through his mind.
He ran his hat through his hands in an agitated circle, staring at the purple sky coming alive with stars. Over and over, he’d run it through his mind. He wanted to go after her, beg her forgiveness for ever leaving her side, and ask her to come home. But he had responsibilities here now as sheriff.
Deep down he knew she wasn’t coming back.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.
He clenched his hat so hard the brim curled into a tight coil.
Swallowing hard, he moved to leave the porch. He was halfway down when Odessa came out, with Bryce right behind her. “Daniel?”
“I have to be off,” he said over his shoulder. “Thank you for supper.”
“Daniel, she said she’d be back.”
He stilled, at once caught between hope and fury. Don’t say anything.… But he couldn’t help himself. “How could you let her go? Bryce? After all that went down here this spring? Don’t you know she might be in danger?”
“Daniel, listen,” Bryce said, putting a warning hand out.
“I … I can’t,” Daniel said. He moved the rest of the way down the steps, pausing by his horse. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “This is my fault. Not yours. Her leaving …” He shook his head again.
“What will you do?” Odessa asked, coming to the porch rail. He was glad he wasn’t close to her. Seeing her green-blue eyes, so like Moira’s, had been torture all evening.…
“I don’t know. I want to go after her. But my place is here.”
“A man has responsibilities—” Bryce began.
“And one of them was to your sister-in-law!” Daniel bit out.
“Now, look …”
Daniel sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ll go. Before I say anything else I regret.” He put his hat on his head and mounted up. “You’ll let me know? If you hear from her?”
Odessa nodded. Bryce looked angry.
There were no more words. Daniel wheeled his horse around and set off toward town, hoping he could navigate by starlight and the vague, pale outline of the road.
o
Nic guessed that the trio of finely dressed gentlemen having breakfast across the restaurant might be their potential investors. He was sure of it when Sheriff Nelson arrived and greeted them all, shaking their hands. He had barely been able to eat, his stomach in knots. By the looks of it, Sabine was struggling too. Everett ate everything on his plate, then some of theirs as well. There was so much he wished he could ask her, so much he wanted to know. But everything was happening too fast.
The sheriff stood up with the three businessmen when they were done but then spied Nic across the way. He came over to greet them. “All set for our meeting this morning?”
“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Nic said, glancing at Everett and Sabine. “We’ll meet you outside and ride up together?”
“I think that’s safest, yes,” the sheriff said. “Hired a couple of temporary deputies, just in case.”
Nic frowned. He had relaxed a bit this morning, when the night passed by so uneventfully. But the sheriff was right; he needed to be on his guard, especially with the investors accompanying him up the Gulch. The waitress came by. “What do we owe you?” Nic asked.
“Oh,” she said with a smile. “Your bill has been taken care of by the gentlemen who were sitting in the far corner.”
Nic glanced over to the empty table where she gestured.
“Don’t worry, Nic,” the sheriff said. “No assumptions made, just buying you folks some breakfast.” He settled his hat on his head and checked his pocket watch. “I’ll see you outside in about forty minutes.”
o
As they set off, the sheriff handed Sabine a rifle. “I know you probably lost yours in the fire. It’d be good to have every sharpshooter armed,” he said with a smile.
She smiled back. She breathed easier with a loaded weapon at her side.
They rode up the Gulch with the three investors—who seemed like respectable, nice men—their two surveyors, a pack mule with all their equipment, the sheriff, deputy, and two additional deputized men.
They rode through the trees, across the creek, so low this time of year, the air growing cooler the higher they climbed. Would she be able to find another place that felt so good, so right to her? Her eyes shifted to Nic and Everett. Were their paths about to divide? Or grow closer together than ever before? What would it be like to be a family? Was it even possible?
In time they reached the Vaughn place. Nothing looked disturbed since they had left it the day before. They climbed higher and dismounted right beside the creek, where the horses and mule could graze and drink while tied to the aspens that bordered the water. They walked over to the mine entrance and Nic lit several lanterns. He gave her a long look that said, You ready? And when she gave him a nod, he entered the tunnel they hadn’t returned to since they had so narrowly escaped the water two days prior.
“You want to wait out here, Everett?” Sabine asked. She feared it would be too much for the boy, being where he had almost lost Nic and her, so soon after losing his father.
But he shook his head. “I want to go with you.”
“All right,” she said. She bent and lit the last lantern, following the men who had gone in already. She glanced over her shoulder. One of the three deputies took up position at the entrance. She had seen the other two take up positions farther out, on either flank.
She and Everett found the men at the end of the second tunnel, peering down into the still flowing shaft. “Ah, you opened up a new channel for an underground river,” said one of the surveyors.
Briefly, Nic told them what had happened to Sabine and how they had gotten out.
They all turned with wide eyes toward her. One of the investors, the portly Mr. Woodveis, smiled in wonder at her. “Well, you are quite a woman. Quite a woman, indeed.”
They turned back to the cliff face, examining the crevice where they had extricated most of the gold. The surveyors began extracting samples, measuring ore quality with a portable kit, and nodding in satisfaction.
“You think the vein continues?” Mr. Woodveis asked Nic. “What makes you so certain?”
“Well, the men of the Dolly Mae believed it was true too. Their surveyors said, judging from the plates you can see here—” he paused to trace the first with his hand— “and over there too, there’s a good chance that it might follow all the way down the mountain. Geologic forces remained consistent. No reason it shouldn’t be there. But then that’s the guessing game of gold mining, right?”
“Right,” said the taller, broader Mr. McManus. “And if it follows those
plates, that’s where it would descend beneath Mrs. LaCrosse’s property, correct?”
“Correct,” Sabine said.
“Any idea where that water exits?” the second surveyor asked. “Or does it stay belowground, best you can tell?”
“There’s a large pool on the other side of my property,” Sabine said. “As the snows melt, a waterfall from above feeds it. It flows all summer. The water is crystal clear. I’d guess it’s about fifty feet lower than the mine entrance. My guess is that river might feed it and exit there.”
Mr. McManus smiled in satisfaction. “If you’re right, Mrs. LaCrosse, then this water issue will be easily resolved. We can use the water as a hydraulic source to quickly open up the mine, then drain it down to a level we can easily manage. We’ll only need to secure enough property for a drain field.”
“And make certain we don’t flood St. Elmo,” said Mr. Woodveis with a jowly laugh that made his belly rise and fall.
Everett frowned and Sabine wrapped an arm around his shoulders. It was the nature of the big mining companies to take such actions. It was why they could get a thousand times more gold that Nic, Sabine, and Everett would ever see. But it meant their beloved Gulch would never be the same again. They would need to move far from this place.
The two surveyors were speaking in hushed, excited tones to each other. Mr. McManus went over to chat with them, his low voice rumbling across the tunnel. Sabine wandered over to the two other investors, sheriff, Everett, and Nic, who were all peering down the shaft.
And that was when they heard the explosion, felt the earth tremble. A second later they were all knocked off their feet.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sabine came to and blinked, but she could see nothing. She coughed and looked around, trying to gain any glimpse of light at all. Nothing. Only black the color of tar.
Cave-in, she registered at last. The mine has caved in. After an explosion. Dynamite, by the sound of it.
“Nic? Everett?” She couldn’t breathe, the air was so thick with dust. She fought off the desire to give in to panic. Where were they?
“Mrs. LaCrosse?” asked a deep voice. “Mr. McManus?”
A man moaned, from about ten feet away. One of the surveyors. No one else responded.
“Nic! Everett!” Sabine called again, hearing the note of hysteria in her own voice but unable to stop it. They had been right by the edge of the shaft. She crawled across the ground, in the direction of the sound of rushing water, praying she would come across one or both of them. Nothing. Nothing but rock and dirt beneath her hands. And then the shaft. She leaned over, smelling the fresh scent of water, feeling the mist billow up and bathe her face, giving her the first clear breath possible.
But the men were gone. Nic. Everett. The sheriff. Mr. Woodweis. Mr. Avery, the third investor, a mouse of a man. “Nic!” she called down the shaft, knowing it was hopeless. “Nic!”
Mr. McManus reached her, touching her shoulder. “Sorry,” he said. “Let me help you up, Mrs. LaCrosse.”
Wearily, she rose, but her knees felt weak, as if they might give out at any moment. “They are gone?” Mr. McManus asked in his low, kindly voice.
“Down the shaft,” she said, hating the weakness of her voice.
“So … they might be in the cavern where you found yourself?”
“Or worse,” she said. Drowned. Knocked unconscious by the blast, swept into the current and through the cursed tunnel.
“Step lively, Mrs. LaCrosse,” he said. “Let us choose to believe they are all right. But first, we must ascertain the degree of our cave-in. Would you be so kind as to take my hand so we don’t lose each other?”
She reached out and found his hand, wide and warm, grandfatherly. It gave her some strength. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps Nic and Ev were still alive.… They moved forward slowly, tentatively, down the tunnel toward the entrance, taking a left at the corner. She stubbed her toe on the first boulder. “Oh, no,” she muttered. “Hello!” she cried. “Can anyone hear me?”
Was there anyone on the other side? One of the deputies? Or had they been killed by the explosion?
“Hello, there!” called Mr. McManus. “Hello!”
They both held their breath, listening.
Hoping the deputies who’d been on duty could hear them, they shouted again. But then the report of two rifle shots, in quick succession, silenced them “Whoever trapped us in here meant to do it,” Sabine whispered in shock. “And now we have ten feet or more of mountain between us and the exit. Maybe as much as thirty feet, if the whole entrance caved in. Do you know how long it took Peter Vaughn to excavate that far?”
Mr. McManus said, “A year or two?”
“Two.”
“But we wouldn’t need to pull out that much rock. Just enough to let us through.”
“So that someone can shoot us on the other side?”
o
Nic had hit the far side of the shaft so hard, he almost passed out. But then he fell and landed in the water below. When he came up, he called out for Everett. The boy was right beside him, sputtering and gasping. “Take a deep breath!” he cried, right before they were sucked through the tunnel. It was all he could do. He had never even asked Everett if he knew how to swim.
He held him firmly with one hand, stroking with his other, willing the tunnel to end, the cavern to arrive. Everett struggled against him, clearly panicking, wanting to rise, grabbing hold of rocks, slowing them down.
But then he stopped struggling.
No, no, no, Lord. Please, Lord. Not this one. Not this child. He’s innocent! Innocent! Save him, Father. Save us both.
A moment later, they were out, popping to the surface. Nic wept as he pulled Everett into his arms. “Everett! Everett! Come on, boy! No. Please God, no …”
He pushed through the chest-deep water toward the edge of the pool, ignoring the other voices in the cavern as he lifted the boy onto the ledge. “Ev, come on. Come back to me. Please,” he said through his tears.
Panting and weary he lifted himself out of the water, partially landing on Everett. “Come on, Ev!” he cried. “Take a breath!” He moved away, and as he did so, Everett coughed and from the sound of it, spewed water from deep within.
“Everett? Ev!” Nic said, pulling him into his arms. He could hear the others, splashing their way toward them.
The boy coughed again, fearsomely, and then said, “Nic? What happened?”
Nic laughed and yanked him up to his chest, now crying and looking up, even though he could not see anything. “Oh, Lord. Thank You. Thank You, thank You.”
“Sabine! Sabine!” he shouted.
“I think she was farther back in the shaft, Nic,” Sheriff Nelson said.
“Drew,” Nic said. “Glad you made it.”
“You too.”
Where was Sabine? Was she was all right?
“Are you okay, Everett?” Nic said, pulling his attention back to those he could reach. He was so thankful, so grateful, that Everett wasn’t gone forever.
God had spared him. Again. And Everett too.
Please be with Sabine, Lord, he prayed silently.
“Mr. St. Clair?” asked a small voice beside him.
“Please, call me Nic,” he said. “Mr. Avery?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Woodweis?”
“He’s over here, gone,” the sheriff answered for him. “Drowned on the way through. Sounds like we almost lost Everett.”
“We did,” Nic said, pulling him close.
“Uh, Nic?” Everett asked.
“Yeah?”
“Can you let go of me now?”
Nic laughed and loosened his grip on the boy. “Sure, sure. But stay right here beside me, all right? It’s darker than a mother’s womb in here.”
“I might be able to help with that,” Drew said. They listened to him strike a flint over and over again. Finally a candle was lit.
“You carry a candle with you?” Nic asked.
�
��I work in mining territory. I’m never without it. Lucky for us it was in an oilcloth.”
They all breathed a sigh of relief and looked around at their dripping wet companions, glad not to be alone, but at a loss as to how they’d get out. Nic looked beyond Mr. Avery to the plump body of Mr. Woodweis on the shore of the small cavern pool, his legs still in the water. Nic shivered when he realized that could’ve been Everett.…
The sheriff stilled and stared up, beyond Nic. Quickly, he moved around the group and held up his candle. The warm light was blocked by stalactites. The shadows its light cast danced in eerie fashion. The cavern was vast. But the closer he got to the far wall, the more the light danced. Against flecks and chunks of gold. “There’s your vein again,” the sheriff said in wonder.
Nic met Mr. Avery’s astounded gaze.
“You, Mr. St. Clair,” Mr. Avery said, “will be a very wealthy man.” He turned to look Nic in the eye, adding, “If we ever get out of here.”
Nic rose and stood beside the sheriff, staring in awe at the fifteen-foot-high wall—thirty feet high at the apex—and the beautiful gold streak running down it, two feet wide.
“When we get out, Mr. Avery,” Nic corrected. “When we get out.”
o
Moira was thankful that she had purchased tickets for a special first-class sleeper car in Denver, shortening her transit to New York to just four days and four nights. The train still stopped but half as often. A couple of times, the sleeper cars were transferred to new engines, keeping them moving at the fastest rate possible.
She remembered their long, arduous journey out to Colorado the first time; six days in uncomfortable, dusty, smoky cars. Odessa’s terrible wheezing … it was a miracle they had arrived at all. And that made her think of Dess, and sweet baby Samuel, Bryce, and … Daniel.
Daniel. Did he even realize it yet? That she was gone? Not that this was about him. This was about her. Her baby. Her past. Her future.
She ate and sat and slept alone—the most continuous amount of time she’d had to herself since her days in Paris. And even then, she’d been surrounded by servants, most of her days and evenings filled with social engagements and appearances. The solitude of the train was a strange, and yet welcome, experience.
Claim: A Novel of Colorado (The Homeward Trilogy) Page 18
