"This whim ain't going to be quiet," Pete said. "If I stop all of a sudden, it's because somebody's getting curious."
The whim squeaked and groaned. Jeff hoped the rope would hold. He decided this wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat any time soon. He held his lighted candle up as the big metal bucket descended too swiftly for his comfort. Walls of rough stone flashed by. In places they had been reinforced with timbers to keep them from caving in. Jeff would have felt better if the owners had used three or four times as much reinforcing.
Jeff passed three tunnels on the way down, each about thirty feet apart. At one he thought he caught the fetid odor of urine and dung, but he told himself that was impossible. An animal would have to be living in the tunnel to create such a strong smell.
The bucket slowed and Jeff braced himself for the landing. Even then it was so jarring he fell against the side of the bucket barely escaping injury. Relieved to be at the bottom at last, Jeff climbed out of the bucket and briefly inspected the tunnels that ran off in opposite directions. He had already worked out a way of numbering them to keep him from getting lost. Scratching a number in the floor of the first tunnel, he entered.
* * * * *
Jeff stared at the dark stain on the ground. He was certain it was blood. He walked slowly along the tunnel, bending over as the ceiling dropped lower. It wasn't braced, and he didn't feel comfortable. Before long he began to smell something unpleasant. At the end of the tunnel he found a pile of rocks. This was no cave-in. The rocks had been stacked.
Jeff held his breath in an attempt to keep his stomach from rebelling. He had to remove some of the rocks. He had to know if his suspicions were correct.
A half an hour later Jeff had uncovered the body of a man. The cold, dampness of the cave had slowed the process of decay, but Jeff had retched twice. There was no question of moving the body, so he had to find some identification. Despite gagging constantly, Jeff searched the clothing. He found a wallet.
It was Eli Goodwin, and he had been killed by having his head bashed in, probably where Jeff saw the first blood. He thought he heard the faint protesting squeal of the whim, but he was too nauseated to think of anything but finishing his search and getting out the mine. He nerved himself to search the rest of Eli's clothing, but there was nothing else.
Jeff retched again. Hoping his stomach would hold out until he got beyond the smell, he retreated down the tunnel. He would have to see Violet's uncle received a decent burial, but right now he couldn't wait to get as far away from the body as possible.
* * * * *
"I told you I heard that whim," one man said to the other. "I would recognize the sound in my sleep."
"Who'd be going into that mine? Everybody thinks it's about to cave in."
"I don't know, but we better make sure they don't come up again."
The two men approached silently, using the numerous buildings, sheds, and pieces of equipment to cover their approach.
"That's Colfax hanging over the shaft," one said. "What the hell is he doing here?"
"I don't know, but he always was trouble." The man picked up a small log. "But he won't be much longer."
"Ed, don't--"
"SShh!" It was the work of no more than a minute to sneak up behind Colfax and hit him over the head with the log. Ed had to pull him back to keep him from falling into the shaft.
"Bring up the bucket," Ed hissed. The whim began to creak and groan. Minutes later the bucket rose to the surface. "Give me a hand," Ed said.
The two men lift Colfax's inert body and dumped it down the shaft. A muffled thump told them when it hit bottom.
"Won't nobody miss Colfax," Ed said. "If they do, they won't care."
"What about whoever's down there?"
"If anybody does miss him, they won't know where to look."
* * * * *
When Jeff reached the shaft, he found he had been right. The bucket was gone. Who had removed it and why? He stared at the empty shaft while the implications sank in. He was in the bottom of this mine with no way to get out.
Something hit Jeff on the shoulder and knocked him to the ground. He dropped his candle. It went out. He lay on the cold, damp rock, dazed, waiting for his head to stop spinning. He felt his limbs. They weren't broken. He could tell from the warm, wet feeling in his shirt, his stump was bleeding. He hoped it wasn't serious.
He could bleed to death.
Jeff pulled several candles from his pocket until he found one that wasn't broken. Holding it between his knees, he struck a match on the shaft floor and lighted the candle. He held it over his head. Pete Colfax's body lay inches away, his head smashed almost beyond recognition.
Jeff retched again.
When he recovered his strength, he withdrew a short distance down the tunnel. Using candle wax to anchor them, he lighted three candles and placed them in a semicircle. Then he leaned back against the tunnel wall. It was rough and cold, but he pushed the discomfort out of his mind. He had to think.
No one knew he was down here. No one was coming to rescue him. Only Violet would know he was gone, and he hadn't told her where. He hoped she wouldn't think he had deserted her after one night of love. He hoped she would know he meant to come back. He hoped she would mount a search to find him.
* * * * *
Violet was worried when Jeff wasn't back when she woke. As the morning wore on, she became nearly frantic. Never once did she believe he had deserted her. If Jeff had decided he'd made a mistake, he'd have told her. He wasn't the most sensitive man in the world, but he wasn't a coward.
But Violet didn't believe he had left her. She remembered the way she felt last night. She knew Jeff had felt it, too. He would never leave her after that. Besides, he hadn't taken any of his clothes. Even his money was still in his pockets.
Something had happened to him that prevented him from coming back or sending a message.
Once she reached that conclusion, Violet became prey to all sorts of fears. Who would have wanted to stop Jeff from coming back? Why? How? She didn't want to answer that last question. She couldn't help but think of her uncle.
But Violet was certain Jeff was alive. She would have felt it if he were dead. It was up to her to figure out what had happened to him. After a good hour spent studying and discarding possibilities, she decided his disappearance must have to do with the mines, either the one he was going to buy or hers.
But that didn't help much. What could he have been doing in the middle of the night? By process of elimination, she decided he must have gone to the mines. It was unlikely he'd be calling on a lawyer in the middle of the night. And if he had, he wouldn't have stayed long. He was an important man. Everybody in Leadville would probably recognize his name and fall over themselves trying to please him.
But she had to get information, and she had to start somewhere. She knew where all the lawyers had their offices. She'd walked every street the day before.
* * * * *
The fourth lawyer she visited had his offices above the Bank of Leadville. He not only dealt with the Randolph family, he had also dealt with Eli Goodwin. He knew the location of both mines.
"They're next to each other on Freyer Hill. Why do you want to know?"
Violet didn't like his attitude. He acted like she was wasting his time asking questioning about things that were none of her business. She could easily have changed his mind, but she didn't want to tell him any more than necessary. She didn't know who she could trust.
"I'm interested in the Little Johnny," she said. "Mr. Randolph was going to show me around, but he hasn't turned up this morning. Could you take me there?"
"I'm afraid I don't have time."
Which, if his expression could be trusted, translated as I can't be bothered.
"Maybe one of your clerks could help me."
"It's not safe for a woman to go into those hills. Not a good idea either with all those men about."
"Well, I'm going," Violet said getting to her feet. "Wh
en I do see Mr. Randolph, I mean to tell him how uncooperative you've been."
The lawyer's entire attitude changed immediately from barely concealed impatience to smiling helpfulness. Violet was right. Whoever was responsible for his disappearance was not a member of the legal community. The only possibility left was that somebody didn't want him to find out about the mines. That meant either something awful had happened to Uncle Eli, the claim was false, or both.
Violet found herself getting scared. If this was as serious as she suspected, she could be in great danger. If somebody had already killed Uncle Eli and Jeff, they wouldn't balk at trying to murder her as well.
She went straight to the telegraph office and sent two telegrams, one each to George and Madison. But not for a moment did she consider waiting for them to reach Leadville. Jeff was in danger, and every minute counted.
* * * * *
"You sure you want to go to the mine," the clerk asked. He was an older man, rough looking, not at all the kind of person Violet expected to be serving as a clerk in a respectable law office.
"I can't see anything from here."
Violet could see quite a lot. The mine had been staked out on a hill at the foot of the Mosquito Range. Nearly all the spruce, aspen, and pine trees for miles had been cut down. Their stumps remained as reminders of the way Nature intended the slopes to look. Each mine was composed of several buildings. Slag heaps of refuse from the mines could be found on all sides. The rock varied from yellow through grey to almost white. The mines were so close, a bulwark had to be built around some slag piles to keep them from falling on the mines further down the hill.
Violet got down from the buggy and picked her way across the hillside to the Little Johnny mine.
"It's closed," the clerk informed her. "It has been since the cave-in that killed Eli."
"Who found him?"
"Harlan and Chapman. They own the Silver Wave right over there. It started producing again just after the Little Johnny closed. They're trying to sell it."
"The mines don't seem to be far enough apart to keep their tunnels from running into each other," Violet said.
"All the mines are close together up here. That's why there are so many cross claims."
But Violet could tell the same idea had occurred to both of them.
"What if--" Violet began.
She didn't get to finish her sentence. A tall, grubby man with an unfriendly face approached them. "It's dangerous for a lady to be up here," he said. His expression looked welcoming, but Violet decided his eyes told a different story.
"I've never seen a mine," Violet said. "I just had to see one before I left Leadville."
"Well you can't see that one. It's closed."
"I already told her," the clerk said.
Violet noticed a change in the clerk's attitude. He didn't like the man either.
"Who are you?" Violet asked bluntly.
"I'm David Chapman. I'm part owner of the Silver Wave."
"Can I see your mine?" Violet asked. She decided she didn't trust this man. She'd do better if she acted a bit silly. "I'm just dying to see one. They talk about it all the time in Denver. Just think, I'd be able tell my friends I had been down in a mine. I'd be the envy of everybody I know."
"Sorry, ma'am, but you can't go down. The men go down in those buckets." He pointed to the bucket in the Little Johnny shaft. "They're dangerous. Quite a few men have been killed falling out of them."
Chills of cold fear ran up and down Violet's spine. She felt certain Jeff had ridden in one of those buckets. Maybe that very one. She prayed he wasn't one of the men who had died.
She walked over to the edge of the shaft and looked down.
"Ooohh, it's dark inside. How do you see?"
"We use candles," Chapman said. "Some mine owners prefer to use oil lamps, but they can cause fires."
"You sure I can't ride down in the bucket?" Violet asked. "It looks like so much fun."
"No, ma'am. It's too dangerous."
"Yohoo!" she called into the dark hole. She showed foolish excitement when a faint echo answered back. "Can I have a piece of silver? I've just got to have something to show my friends."
"It doesn't come in pieces, ma'am. It's in rocks."
Violet made her most disappointed face. "I think it's terrible I have to go home with nothing. Who's going to believe I've actually seen a mine?"
"Come with me, ma'am," Chapman said.
Violet and the clerk followed him to the shaft of the Silver Wave. A few minutes later the bucket came to the surface loaded with ore. Chapman took two pieces from the bucket and handed them to Violet.
"But they're nothing but black rocks," she said, dismayed.
"That's what silver ore looks like," Chapman told her. "We have to smelt it down to get the silver out of it. Show that to your friends. At least they won't think the silver's lying around on the ground for us to pick up."
"Thank you," Violet said, trying to sound as dismayed as possible when she was actually thrilled. If, as she suspected, this silver came from her uncle's mine, she held in her hand the proof that Chapman was stealing. The ore from different veins was as identifiable as a fingerprint.
"Now I suggest you go back to your hotel. It's not safe up here. There are tunnels under all of these hills."
Violet kept up her foolish act, chattering away like the half-wit she hoped Chapman would believe she was. The moment she was out of sight, she turned to the clerk. "You have to bring me back here tonight," she said.
"What for?"
"We have to find some silver from my uncle's mine. I'm going to prove these came from the same place."
* * * * *
Jeff started awake from a state of semi-consciousness. He thought a shadow had crossed the opening to the shaft, as though someone had leaned over to look inside. He thought he had heard Violet's voice. He scrambled to his feet and called out, but the cold air at the bottom of the tunnel had made him hoarse. He doubted the sound of his voice could reach the surface even if someone were listening for it. He tried again and waited, but he heard nothing, saw nothing.
He must have been hallucinating. The cold, the dark, the utter silence had had a deadening effect on his senses. After so many hours, he seemed to be approaching a state of suspended animation. He tried to fight it, but he felt himself gradually losing the battle.
Don't be a fool. Let it come. That way you won't know when you die.
But Jeff didn't mean to die. He didn't know how, but he meant to live a good many years yet. He hadn't found Violet only to lose her.
* * * * *
Later that night, the ore samples locked away in the lawyer's safe, Violet and the clerk returned to the Little Johnny Mine. A second man accompanied them.
"I insist on going down in the bucket with you," Violet was saying. "I don't care how dangerous it is. I have to convince myself Jeff was never in that mine."
"Why would he have come here?" the clerk demanded.
"I don't know, but something kept him from returning. I have a feeling it had something to do with these mines."
"You be careful with that pick, Miss," the clerk said. "You can hurt yourself going down the shaft."
"Just help me into the bucket." Violet had to keep her courage up for the benefit of the men who were helping her. To herself she admitted she was petrified. The thought of being in a bucket suspended over a shaft more than a hundred feet deep scared her almost senseless.
"Let me get in first," the clerk said. "Then Tom and I will both help you."
Violet got into the bucket without any trouble, but the swaying motion immediately unsettled in her stomach so badly she feared she would throw up. When Tom began to man the whim and the bucket began to sink, she was certain she would faint, throw up, or both.
"Hold on, ma'am," the clerk said. "It sounds bad as can be, but you'll be at the bottom before you know it."
Violet knew there was no way she could reach the bottom soon enough. Once she did that,
she would have to ride this terrifying contraption to the surface again. She kept reminding herself she was looking for Jeff. She could endure anything as long as she found him. She wanted to get her mine back as well, but Jeff was what really mattered. This trip into the bowels of the earth was making that agonizingly clear.
* * * * *
Jeff gradually emerged from his stupor. The bucket was coming down the shaft. Someone was coming. Euphoria was immediately tempered by caution. The only people who knew he was here were the people who had killed Pete Colfax. They might be coming to get him now.
Willing his body to shed its lethargy, Jeff moved deeper into the tunnel. He had every intention of knowing who had come down before he revealed himself.
* * * * *
"Are they in the bucket, Tom?" David Chapman asked.
"Sure are, Mr. Chapman. They ought to be about half way down by now. You want me to drop them?"
"No. Once they reach bottom, untie the rope and throw it in after them. Everybody will think it rotted through. Nobody will bother to install a new one for a worthless mine."
Tom played with the whim, letting the bucket descend too fast, then bringing it to a jerky halt.
"What are you doing?" Chapman asked.
"Giving them a little fun," Tom said, grinning. "They ain't going to have nothing to do when they reach the bottom."
The two men watched in silence. "It was smart of you to tell me what that silly female intended to do," Chapman said.
"I thought you'd want to know. What do you want me to do when I'm done here?"
"Come to the Silver Wave."
"You got my money?"
"Sure. I got everything."
* * * * *
Jeff couldn't believe his ears. It was Violet's voice he heard floating down the shaft. He struggled to drive away the drugged feeling that still clung to his senses. Somehow she had found him. He was safe.
Pete! His body was still lying at the bottom of the shaft. He didn't want Violet to see him. Forcing his sluggish muscles to act, Jeff dragged Pete's body several yards down the opposite tunnel. Later he would have to see about a proper burial for him.
Back in the first tunnel, he fumbled for his candle. He could hardly wait to gaze on Violet's face. He could hear her talking to someone. The bucket hit the ground. A man was telling her how to get out without falling. He heard her feet scrape the tunnel's rough stone floor. He struck a match. He heard a gasp. He resolutely forced himself to concentrate on lighting his candle. Then another. And another until he had three points of light on the tunnel floor.
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