Domino

by Whitney, Phyllis A. ;

  Ahead the blackness seemed complete, and I could smell danger in the very odor of dampness and rotting wood, though here near the entrance the air wasn’t especially bad. Not yet. Somewhere ahead I knew there would be a deep shaft dropping to the next levels, and down there, deep in the total blackness of the mountain’s heart, there would be catwalks along the connecting winzes—the passages—as the book had indicated. At the lowest levels there would probably be water. All of the mine was a honeycomb under my feet, perhaps ready to collapse at any point, to crumble in upon itself. I remembered Jon pointing out the Glory Hole, where men had died in such a collapse, and wondered if that would be my fate. Ladders down the shafts would be rotten now, unless they were of metal, and I could only hope that Red hadn’t fallen down there.

  The flash beam suddenly cut into an emptiness of space, and I realized that the narrow entrance tunnel I followed had suddenly opened into a vast room with rock walls and high ceiling.

  I knew what this was. The main shaft of the mine had not been sunk from outside, with the A-frame and hoist placed over it outdoors, as was usually the custom. Here it must have been necessary to tunnel in for a distance before the shaft was sunk, so that a huge room must be hollowed out to accommodate the hoist that would pull, up the big ore buckets and the cage that would take men up and down.

  In the tiny piercing light I could use against the black dark, I made out the rotting frame and the pit that opened beneath it, almost at my feet. I stepped back in sudden terror and bit my lip, tasting blood.

  This time my voice cracked as I shouted, “Red! Red, are you down there?”

  My blessed dog answered mournfully from another direction, and I stepped well away from the edge of the pit. I mustn’t let panic take over in this horrible place.

  Somehow I needed to find the right tunnel in order to reach Red. With his furry body in my arms we could console each other until help came. We weren’t in here forever. This I must believe in defiance of voices that whispered in my mind, Forever, forever!

  I played my light ahead and called to Red until I could feel sure I had located the passage that would lead me to him. It was disturbing that his barking still seemed so far away. A dog might penetrate into a cluttered passageway a great deal farther than I could possibly go. But at least I must try.

  The light beam told me that slabbing had been done to some extent in here. I could see what the word meant now—the shoring up of walls and ceiling with supporting timbers, so that the core of rock that held the ore could be removed without the tunnel collapsing. But the book had told me more than I wanted to know. When slabbing failed, as sometimes happened, those beneath could be buried under tons of earth and rock. The manic voices of terror whispered in my mind again.

  Dampness and old rot had surely taken their toll, and the slightest disturbance might cause everything to fall in upon me, burying me here in this mountain tomb. Forever. Forever.

  “Stop it!” I told myself, but I didn’t speak the words aloud because terror lay in the very sound of harsh echoes. I knew the direction now, and I could let the echoes sleep.

  This was the way. A small, more crowded passage than the others. A passage whose opening was partially blocked. Red could have squeezed through, but not I. Yet I had to reach him.

  I stuck my flashlight in my pocket, and working carefully in the dark, I began to pull away fallen rock and litter from the opening. My hands were quickly cut, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was to reach Red, so that we could comfort each other. To be alone in this place, with nothing alive near me, was the most terrible threat of all. Or at least nothing alive that I wanted to be near.

  There hadn’t been a real cave-in at the entrance to the passage, and in a little while I’d made a way I could get through. I used my flash again and saw that the way beyond was not entirely blocked. Blackness stretched ahead into limbo, and I wondered what creeping things might hide away in here. Snakes, Jon had said. And surely rats. But to sit still and wait would be worse than trying to reach my dog.

  Now the ceiling was fairly low, as though the tunneling here had not been completed, and I would have to crawl. I dropped to my hands and knees, doing without light again, though the absence of it was always frightening. The walls seemed to close in on me as I crept along, cold and hard and even more alien in the dark.

  Once, when I’d turned on the light, something skittered out of my way. No more than a black shadow, but a shadow that would have sharp teeth, I was sure. For a few moments of shuddering I couldn’t go on. But I must.

  Crawling was more difficult than walking. There was no mud, but there were still clumps of fallen rock and fragments of splintered wood. The cold of deep earth seemed even more penetrating now, and the air was growing stale and unpleasant—a dirty smell, but at least untainted by the odor of gas. There was still oxygen to breathe. Perhaps the opening of the door had filled the tunnels with fresh air for a little while.

  I was still fearful of every shadow that might move when my light was on, and even more terrified of what I might put my hand upon in the dark. Both my hands and knees hurt, but that didn’t matter. In my own mind lay the greater dangers. If death came from rock above me, it would be quick. Only in my imagination, in the thought of not being found, lay utter horror.

  Red’s whimpering seemed closer now. I spoke to him softly, told him I was coming, and again I moved on, reaching one cautious hand along the passage floor and then another. I used my light only now and then, conserving its battery being all-important now. There might be hours ahead for me in this place. One glimpse from the beam showed that the walls had moved apart a little, as though a more complete job had been done at this point.

  Obviously this hadn’t been a large operation, like the rest of the mine. Perhaps this vein had run out quickly and been soon abandoned. I came to a spot where supporting timbers were falling into decay, and I knew they might crash down upon me if they were jarred. I thought again of all those who had been buried in mines during the years of the gold and silver madness.

  But still I must move ahead. Gingerly I made my way past the place of danger, and the going became easier. The smell was all-pervading now, smothering me in its thick, earthy odor. I could understand about claustrophobia.

  My hand, testing the ground ahead, touched something different, something hard and rounded, with sharp-edged hollows in it. Not a rock. My flesh knew and recognized and recoiled in horror. It was time for light.

  The beam played over what was left of what had once been a man. The white skull, the rib cage, the long leg bones and folded arms—all laid out in orderly fashion where he had been left, here in the mine. Left, not trapped.

  Suddenly I was sure, without any doubt. I knew who this man had been. It had to be Noah Armand. More had happened at Morgan House than they had wanted me to guess. Noah, too, must have died, and they had brought him here, left him to the tomb of the mountain. Perhaps it hadn’t been my father they meant after all when they had stood in the hallway talking about the mine.

  Red barked faintly, questioning, pleading.

  “I’m coming,” I called.

  With the light turned off, I moved carefully, clinging to the side of the tunnel farthest from what lay there, working my way past horror. Only when I was safely beyond did I turn on the light again. Ahead the tunnel took a turn, and as I followed the bend around, my flash showed me Red, lying on his side, his leash caught beneath a chunk of broken rock.

  At the sight of me he thrashed and yelped and tried again to free himself. I crept to him and wrapped my arms about his wriggling body while he reached for my face with an ecstatic tongue and shivered with joy.

  The air was better now, and I breathed more deeply. Perhaps there was a way out. Perhaps Red hadn’t come in through the main door of the mine, but had found another opening in the hillside. Hope took the place of terror, and I let the flashlight burn while I tried to free Red’s leash. Now I saw what had been done. No accident has caused th
is securing of the leather strap. It had been drawn under the big chunk of rock so that only fingers could release it.

  Someone had found Red in his wandering. Someone had placed him in this passage and seen to it that he could never extricate himself. Then the message had been sent to me, the mine door left open, knowing that Red’s barking would lead me in. I held him tightly and pressed my face against his head that was no longer silky and clean.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” I told him, wincing a little as I looped the leash around my wrist. I didn’t know how much more laceration my hands and knees could take, but I had to go on. Then, as I started to crawl again, the sound of shouting reached us from a distance—from outside the mine. Red barked furiously, and I shouted back, recognizing the voice.

  “Jon! We’re in here! Jon, come and help us out!”

  His next shout was much closer. “Keep on yelling so I can locate you, Laurie.”

  We filled the tunnel with sound, and the echoes no longer mattered. In a few moments Jon was crawling through the far passage.

  By the time he reached us, I was weeping in relief. He sat on the floor of the tunnel, drew my head against his shoulder, and let me cry. His arms were around me and his cheek was against my hair. It was wonderful to just let go and stop struggling for my life. And most of all it was wonderful to have Jon hold me. I had come to my own moment of truth.

  I’d loved him since I was a little girl, and I loved him now. I had been looking for him in other men through all my years as a woman, yet I wouldn’t have dared to tell him this. I could only cling to him and weep in relief.

  “That’s enough,” he said after a moment. “You can finish your bawling outside. Are you all right, Laurie? Can you crawl a little farther?”

  I could have crawled anywhere, and Red and I crept after him as he led the way out. Around the next bend we could see daylight, and the air was fresh. Weed growth and the gnarled roots of a fallen pine tree almost blocked the entrance, but Jon squeezed past and pulled us both after him into the sunshine.

  The sight of Sundance tethered nearby was very welcome, and the high thin air had never tasted so sweet. I flung myself on the grass with Red beside me. For these few moments I wanted only to know that I was safe and with my love. This intensity of feeling was all I could bear for now. Horror lay just beyond, where reason started, but I still held it away.

  “Do you see where you are?” Jon asked after I’d rested for a few minutes.

  He was sitting on the grass beside me, not touching me now, but waiting for me to recover with more patience than I might have expected.

  I opened my eyes and looked around. The tunnel had wound through the shoulder of the mountain, to come out near the stand of spruce where a lone horseman had sat earlier, watching my progress up the valley. It was that rider who must have waited, knowing I would come, who must have knotted Red’s leash and locked me into the mine.

  I looked at Jon and saw that his head bandage showed the seeping of fresh blood.

  “You’ve started to bleed again,” I said. “You should never have come out. But how lucky for me that you did.”

  “I’m all right,” he assured me. “I scraped myself on the rock in there. When Sam told me you’d ridden out here looking for Red, I came as fast as I could. It’s a good thing I kept shouting for you along the way. This old tunnel’s been lost for as far back as I can remember. I knew it was supposed to be around here somewhere, but nobody recalled any longer where the opening was. This is where old Dominoes gophered his way to silver.”

  He was giving me the time I needed by talking.

  “The old man started to take out ore before Tremayne and Morgan came along and bought the claim from him. Those old hard-rockers could put in an operation all on their own, or with a partner or two. Most mining was just hard labor anyway. Drilling, picking their way into the rock, planting explosives, and shoveling out blast waste and ore rock—all that was done by hand.”

  I still wanted to postpone what must be talked about, and I knew Jon was humoring me.

  “Why did they work that hard for so little?” I asked, to keep him talking.

  “Lure of the treasure hunt, I suppose. Over the years brush swallowed the opening and that tree fell across it. Red must have found his way in, perhaps chasing a chipmunk. Then I suppose he couldn’t get out.”

  “He couldn’t get out because someone put him there,” I said.

  Jon didn’t seem surprised. “Can you talk about it now?”

  “I have to talk about it. Someone phoned the house and told Caleb he’d heard a dog barking out near the mine. So I rode up here to see for myself. When I reached this spot, I thought I heard Red whining, but I wasn’t sure, so I went on to the mine. The door was open and—”

  “Open?” Jon broke in. “Smashed open?”

  “No. The padlock must have been opened with a key. I went just inside the entrance and started to call for Red. When he answered me, I went in a little farther to locate the direction. I remembered what you said about mines, and I wasn’t going to explore. But someone shut the door behind me and closed the padlock.”

  “God!” Jon said, and the word had an angry sound. He reached for me again and put both arms around me as we sat on the ground.

  I had to know more. “Who would have a key to the mine?”

  “Your grandmother, of course. And I have one that she had made for me. It’s hanging right where I keep it. Her key is at the house.”

  “Gail,” I said. “She must have taken it. She’s working with Ingram, and I suppose she could have given the key to him. When I rode out from the ranch, a man on a horse was watching me from right about here. Too far away for me to recognize.”

  “Tell me the rest,” Jon said, and I heard the grim note in his voice.

  I told him as best I could. About having a flashlight, thanks to Sam. About finding the right tunnel and starting my long crawl through it toward the sound of Red’s frantic response. I was trying to sound matter-of-fact and keep the memory of panic out of my voice, but Jon heard.

  “Never mind,” he said. “You don’t have to suffer through it again. You found Red and I found you.”

  “First I found Noah Armand,” I told him.

  He put me at arm’s length so he could look into my face, questioning.

  “There’s always been a mystery about what happened to Noah,” I said. “I had a feeling that they’d never told me the whole truth. I still don’t know what happened. But his bones are back there in the mine. I had to crawl past them.”

  As I spoke I could remember that moment all too vividly.

  Jon gave me a small shake. “Hang on, Laurie. Don’t jump to conclusions. Old bones in a lost mine could belong to anyone. Nothing points to Noah Armand for sure, does it?”

  “I suppose an identification could be made, if it came to that. I suppose there would be bits of clothing or jewelry. All I know is that he is part of whatever happened. Jon, I went into the back parlor today, and I opened that box. I remembered. You know what I did, don’t you? You know that I loaded one of those deringers that my grandmother had kept, and I shot and killed my own father.”

  He held me tightly. “I only know rumors. Hints my mother dropped. Take it easy, Laurie.”

  I could talk now, with my head against his chest, though words came out starkly.

  “I remembered some of it. I remembered firing the gun. And Caleb told me the rest. Persis had told me some of it, too—earlier. That my mother was going to run away with Noah Armand. My father came home in time to find his wife in the back parlor, probably in Noah’s arms. I was there behind a sofa, playing with those deringers. So when I thought Noah was going to hurt my father, I must have shot, meaning to stop him. Instead it was my father who died.” My words faded sickly away.

  Jon held me, and there was a deep tenderness in him. For a moment I clung to him. Then he sat me up away from him.

  “We’d better start back soon.” My face was still wet
with tears, and he touched a finger to my cheek. “Don’t look like that. You didn’t kill Richard Morgan. A child did. A child who couldn’t possibly know what she was doing. Someone from a long time ago. If you’d grown up with the knowledge, you’d feel easier now. It’s come too suddenly, and that can be shattering. Just give yourself time.”

  He drew me up and I stood close to him. “Jon, last night at that awful dinner I told Mark Ingram that I’m going to stay here with my grandmother. So perhaps that’s why he had me locked in the mine.”

  “Could be. Let’s get back to the ranch now, so you can tell your grandmother the whole thing.”

  “But that will worry her—and she’s helpless.”

  “Not so helpless now that you’re here. She’ll want to know.”

  “Even about those bones?”

  “Everything. Though she may already know about them. If she hasn’t always acted wisely in the past, then she needs everything you can tell her so that she can deal with the present now.”

  “Must it be reported?”

  “It should be, I suppose, but let’s wait until you’ve told Persis.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  I’d never seen him look so grim. “I mean to have a talk with Ingram as soon as possible. Up you go on Sundance. Give me your foot.”

  I didn’t want to take his horse. He had been hurt far more seriously than I. Except for a few cuts and scrapes, all my hurts were inner. But I knew there was no use arguing with Jon Maddocks, and when I was in the saddle, holding the reins gingerly, he walked beside me, a hand on the bridle, quieting Sundance, who was feeling mettlesome. I’d unclipped Red’s leash, but he had no wish to stray from me again, and he came along willingly when I called him.

  As we started down the valley, I thought of an old question that still troubled me. We were closer now, Jon and I, and I could ask him.

  “What did you mean when you said I had to earn the right to know?”

  He looked up at me, and again there was a tenderness in him that I yearned toward. “You’re earning your way just fine, Laurie. I’m sorry it’s had to be so rough. When you come out on the other side you’ll know for sure what you’re made of.”