by Eddie Jones
My eyes adjusted to the muted light seeping into the shaft. Damp walls displayed a mosaic pattern of sand and clay and salt sediment sandwiched between the wider areas of limestone. Perfect for “glory holes”—those large pockets pressed into the strata where veins of gold deposits lay waiting.
The hole on the far wall looked to be about eighteen inches high. I stepped closer and aimed my light inside. Someone had used the cavity to deposit trash. Fast food bags, amber beer bottles, and empty cigarette packs. Something else in there, too. Something shiny and long. I reached in, brushing aside the bottles and fingered the cold, hard barrel of a …
“What are you doing here?”
I spun, my skin warming as adrenaline surged. Annie stood behind me, her figure silhouetted against the dull light of dawn spilling into the mine.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“We need to get out of here,” she urged. “This mine isn’t safe. Didn’t you see the sign?”
“Speaking of that, who is in charge of signage?” I asked, smirking.
“You’re looking at her. Why? Is something wrong?”
“I should’ve guessed.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you need to get a dictionary.”
“And you need to get out before …”
We both pivoted at once, gawking at the entrance.
“Yeah, I heard it too,” I said, moving closer to her.
Someone or something was prowling around. I saw its shape dart past, heard the clatter of rocks rolling away. Annie snuggled up close. I clicked off my Streamlight and together we stood in darkness, waiting.
“Bear?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“Maybe.”
Abandoned mine; bear den. Death trap.
Whatever it was pawed about, crunching loose rocks. We backed toward the overturned pushcart and stood in the shadows. I wasn’t sure how we would outrun a bear—if it was a bear.
“You didn’t answer me,” Annie said, her voice barely audible. “What are you doing in here?”
“Checking a lead. You?” “Had a hunch.”
A lumbering shape moved back across the opening. Definitely big enough to be a bear.
“Yeah, right,” I countered. “You’re afraid of what I’ll find, aren’t you?”
“Oh, please. You’re the one who should be worried.”
But before I could ask her why, the grunting and shuffling grew into a rumble. Together we watched as the entrance collapsed, turning off the day.
“Nick?”
I chanced it and flicked on the light. I found the entrance filled in with rocks and dirt. A fine mist of dust rolled toward us.
Annie’s hand found mine and squeezed.
I said, “Don’t suppose there’s another way out?”
I felt her shudder and knew there wasn’t.
We stood in silence for several seconds before I said as calmly as I could, “Don’t panic. We’ll find a way out. This can’t be the only way into this mine.”
“Panic? Who’s panicking? You see me panicking? Do I look like I’m panicking? I’m not panicking.”
“This isn’t as bad as it looks.”
“Sure looks bad. In fact, bad never looked so good. Bad would be an improvement. You know what this is? This is cataclysmic.”
“I think you meant catastrophic.”
“I know what word I meant even if I can’t spell it. Cataclysmic means devastating, disastrous, and dreadful, and that’s what this is, only much worse!” Her voice had crept up to a shriek. I could sense a quickening of her breathing and knew she was losing it.
I took a deep breath, coughed out some dust, and decided to change tactics. “Who’s trying to kill us, Annie?”
“Boy, you find conspiracies everywhere, don’t you? Who’s trying to kill us? That’s funny. You. That’s who’s trying to kill us. You’re the real villain, sneaking up here where you’re not supposed to be.”
“Hang on a second,” I shot back. “What just happened wasn’t an accident. Somebody wanted to trap us in here.”
“Give me a break. I warned you the mine was unsafe. There’s a sign that even says so. That’s why I came here. To tell you to leave.”
“That thing we saw out there prowling around the entrance, it wasn’t a bear.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t know. But a bear, at least a brown one, has a strong odor, almost like a skunk. I didn’t smell anything like that.”
“Maybe you don’t smell as well as you think.”
“You saying I stink?”
“You know what I mean.”
I sniffed. The dust-filled air delivered a whiff of Annie’s scented shampoo, which actually smelled pretty nice. I was afraid at any moment she’d start thinking about how we were going to get out and if we would get out, so in an attempt to keep her from wigging out, I said, “Apple blossom, right?”
“Huh?”
“Your shampoo.”
“So you can tell what type of shampoo I use, big deal.”
“Just saying, it smells nice is all.”
“Think we should start screaming? I’ll start.”
“Wait! First tell me who sent you up here?”
“Nobody. I decided to come on my own.”
“Okay, if not sent, then who suggested you follow me up here?”
“I don’t get you. Why can’t I just be concerned about you? How come you’re always questioning my motives?”
“I dunno. It’s just what I do. Who told you I’d be here?”
“No one. Nobody told me you’d be here.”
“You sure?”
She sighed impatiently. “Fine. It was Jess, okay? He said there was something in here I needed to see. Something I would find interesting. Satisfied?”
“He knows you’re here?”
“Doubt it. But that’s what the two of us were discussing last night just before you arrived at the pavilion. He was telling me about something in the mine I needed to see. Then we got off on you and this dumb murder case and … well, you walked up before I could find out what he wanted me to find up here.”
“Well for once both of you might be telling the truth.”
“Might?”
“Here, look at this.”
I led her across the room toward the glory hole and aimed the Streamlight so she could see inside.
“An empty whisky bottle in a paper sack?” she said, frowning. “I think Jess was talking about something else.”
“Not the bottle,” I replied matter-of-factly. “Behind it. The shiny thing. Careful, though. There might be a …”
The black snake slithered out from the bag and dropped onto the ground. It couldn’t have been more than a foot long, but it might as well have been a python given Annie’s reaction. She was clear on the other side of the cave before I could turn around to tell her it was nonvenomous.
“Don’t you want to see the thing I was pointing at?” I said, grinning. “I bet this is what James wanted you to find.”
“No!”
“Oh come on. There can’t be two snakes in there.”
“You look.”
“But I already know what it is.”
“Why? Did you put it there?”
“Me? No. But I have a pretty good idea who did.”
I reached in and pulled the gun out.
The Schofield felt heavy in my hand. Elaborate scrollwork covered the nickel-plated barrel, cylinder, and trigger guard, giving the piece a plastic, toy-like appearance. But there was nothing childish about the weapon. Using the bandana I’d tucked in my back pocket, I gloved the weapon and held it in my right hand. With a flick of my wrist, I swung the frame down, exposing the cylinder.
One empty chamber. I sniffed and detected the faint odor of gunpowder. I knew from the book I’d purchased at the general store that the eight-inch barrel, like the one on this gun, dampened the muzzle kick and improved accuracy. This model had a tiny notch in
front of the trigger, a missing screw on the butt plate, and the initials W.E. etched into the underside of the barrel near the trigger guard. Ballistics would be able to tell me if the gun had been fired recently, but the missing bullet already suggested it had.
If the slug found in the barn matched the markings on the barrel, then the gun I held was probably the one that killed Billy the Kid.
“Now why would your friend Jess send you up here to find this?” I asked for Annie’s benefit.
“Maybe to prove he didn’t kill anyone.”
I told Annie about my conversation with Earp and how James had asked to borrow his revolver. How James claimed he couldn’t find a gun at Lazy Jack’s.
“So now do you believe he’s innocent?” she demanded. “That Jess couldn’t have had anything to do with whatever it is you think he did?”
“Oh, it’s possible Jesse James is telling the truth—that Earp fed me that line because he’d already killed Billy the Kid and dropped the gun off in here. Mr. Earp was away from his guardhouse around the time of the murder, so it’s possible. By the way, did you know Earp has a drinking problem?”
“Had. Had a problem. My uncle said he kicked it years ago.”
“The addiction must’ve kicked back. This empty whisky bottle. James hinting there was something in here for you to find. Wyatt Earp’s gun. Doesn’t look good for the old man.”
“I’ll tell you what doesn’t look good,” Annie declared. “US
DYING IN HERE!”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure my parents are looking for us. Probably on their way up here right now,” I said hopefully. “I’m betting the guy who loaned me the pony has already shown them which way I rode off. We’ll be found.”
“Yes, but when?”
I didn’t want to tell her my real fear, which was that we’d suffocate first. “Soon enough,” I answered casually. “In the meantime, let’s see if we can find an air vent. All mines have ‘em.”
“Lead the way. The further we get away from that snake the better.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BODILY HARM
I marked our place of departure by scratching an X on the wall. If my parents or the marshal came looking for us, I wanted them to know we were alive. I took Annie’s hand and aimed my light down the narrow passageway. For a moment I pictured the two of us lying dead on the floor, our fingers raw from trying to claw our way out. My anger grew as I thought of someone, Jesse James probably, smugly waiting outside the cave entrance for us to cry out. I made up my mind I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. The clues to Billy the Kid’s death lay with the revolver tucked into the waistband of my pants. Now all I had to do was get out alive and deliver the evidence to Marshal Buckleberry.
The rusty rails curved around and down the tunnel. We proceeded cautiously, with Annie never falling more than a half step behind me. I’d only gone a few feet when I etched another X on the wall. A few feet further, another. Three dots make a line, and I didn’t want there to be any question as to the direction we’d gone. Plus, the marks would make it easy to find our way back.
The Streamlight’s beam illuminated an intersection of tunnels. One curving to our right, the other blocked by rubble. Clasping Annie’s hand tighter, we jogged toward the junction, stopped, and listened. Far off I thought I heard the call of a hawk.
“This way,” I whispered, and pulled her deeper into the mine.
With the cart rails behind us, I knew we’d taken a side shaft, one not normally used by the miners. My hope was that the tunnel had the air vent we needed. My hopes faded when we rounded a corner and came to a dead end. Nothing but stone walls beside and ahead of us.
“Now what?” Annie asked in a quivering voice.
I clicked off the flashlight and stared at the darkness, listening. Maybe we missed the vent, I thought, looking over my shoulder. The density of blackness became more than Annie could stand, and I heard her beginning to sob softly. Releasing her hand, I moved my arm around her waist and pulled her close.
Then I saw it. The faintest sliver of silver shimmering about a foot above eye level. My fingers felt the cold stone wall and worked their way up. I turned the Streamlight back on.
“Hold this,” I told Annie, passing her the flashlight. “I’ll hoist you up and you aim that light into the gap.”
I bent down and she stepped into my cupped hands as though slipping her boot into the stirrups of her saddle. I lifted her up and said, “Well?”
“Sorry, Nick. But I don’t see anything.”
“How far back does it go?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t want to stick my hand in there to find out. But it looks like only a few feet like that other shelf we saw where you found the gun.”
I set her down, took the light from her, and we returned to the main tunnel.
“We’ll never get out of here, will we?” she said.
“Sure we we will,” I replied, trying to sound hopeful. “Let’s keep going this way. We’re bound to find the end soon.”
And we did. About fifty steps ahead, the rails stopped in a chamber littered with crumpled beer cans, broken bottles, and an assortment of abandoned mining tools.
“What is that?” Annie asked, pointing to chalky splotches on the floor.
I directed the Streamlight at the milky smears, then gradually moved the beam up the wall toward the ceiling. Annie shrieked. I might have too if I hadn’t been tipped off by the dusty covering of feces on the floor.
Bats, hundreds of them, hanging like darts, their pointed ears erect, began emitting squeaky bat noises in response to Annie’s screams.
I clamped my hand over her mouth. “Please,” I whispered to her. “Don’t get them excited.” I kept the light aimed at the ceiling but watched Annie’s eyes. “We good? Can I remove my hand?”
She nodded.
I let go.
“I told you, never do that again,” she hissed.
“And you need to stop freaking out. They’re just b—”
“Bats that can give us rabies.”
“Actually, bats are more like birds,” I replied. “They feed off pollen. The idea that bats prey on humans is an urban myth. The vampire bats of South America are the only bats that drink blood, and even then they prefer livestock, not people.”
“And this is supposed to comfort me how?”
“Means we’re near an opening someplace.”
“Unless their ‘out’ is the main entrance.” She jerked her head toward another rail cart. This one sat on the rails beside the wall. “What does a bat eat when it’s trapped, anyway?”
“Not sure.”
“Then I think we’ve reached the end of the line and should head back.”
“Not yet we haven’t.”
I wanded the light to my left and pointed to the wooden ladder protruding from the floor. Annie followed me over and together we peered into the hole. Below us, maybe ten feet down, was a second level. The flooring looked to be covered in dirt, which I took to be a good sign.
I pulled Annie away from the hole and positioned her in the center of the room directly beneath the bats. I handed her the flashlight and said, “Stand here and keep shining this light.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“I need to know how far back we are from the main entrance.”
Before she could argue, I jogged away, retracing our steps. The Streamlight’s beam reached farther than I’d expected. I was almost back to the main entrance before I had to slow to keep from stumbling over the rough floor. Finally I reached the glory hole and bent forward, panting. With hands resting on my knees I calculated the distance. Forty-six seconds. Plenty of time to race back if someone calls to us. I took one final check of the entrance and returned to Annie.
We descended the ladder and landed in another, smaller chamber. Support beams bracketed an opening that was maybe chest high on me.
“How long do we keep exploring before we head back?” she asked nervously, eyeing
the tapered shaft.
“Back?”
“Once the batteries die, that’s it. I don’t want to try walking back in the dark. Especially not if we have to climb that ladder. If we’re near the entrance, at least there’s a chance someone will hear us if they’re outside looking for us.”
“Let’s go a little ways further. At least until we know we’ve hit a dead end.” I could see my words hadn’t helped much. “Look, I know you’re scared, but we’ll be okay. You just have to keep believing there’s a way out.”
“And if there isn’t?”
“Think about it this way. The average person can go three minutes without air, three days without water, and three weeks without food.”
“And then?”
I refused to say what we were both thinking.
“Nick, there’s something I need to tell you in case …”
She took a deep breath, cupped her hand over mine, and clicked off the light. The darkness suffocated us.
She squeezed my hand and said in a husky voice, “I have to tell you something. It’s about this bruise on my forehead.”
With each word, her heated breath blew against my skin. I wanted to pivot and tilt my head toward hers, but I refused. I’d watched too many television episodes where the killer manipulated the detective into believing she was innocent, and I was determined not to be tricked by Annie.
“Yes?”
“I lied when I told you yesterday that I’d fallen from my horse.”
No kidding! Every time I turn around you’re showing up. In the graveyard. On the train. Here.
The softness of her thumb stroking my knuckles began to distract me. Oh, you’re good. You’re smooth as bat wings. She rested her head against my chest, and I noticed a change in her breathing.
Here’s the thing about girls: you can’t trust them. At least, not when they want something from you. Guys melt when a girl snuggles up and gets all soft and gushy. At least I do. But that’s mostly because as a boy with hairless armpits and glasses, I have no hope at all of penetrating the inner sanctuary of the pretty and popular girls group at my school.
I felt her breath on my cheek and knew even without the light that she was standing on her tiptoes. Swallowing, I said in a raspy voice, “So what did happen to you yesterday?”
