A Dead Red Miracle

by R. P. Dahlke

  During the daylight hours, the garden is always full of birds and butterflies, hummingbirds, cooing doves, noisy Mexican jays, colorful blue buntings, golden orioles and scarlet red cardinals.

  I took a sip of my beer and watched a roadrunner hop up onto the adobe wall, eyeball the water feature set up for the birds and determining the yard safe, settle onto of one of the strategically placed boulders and proceed to groom its feathers.

  To me, roadrunners always appeared awkward with their skinny bodies, long narrow beaks. That is until I saw a lovely yellow butterfly pass too close and in a blink of an eye disappear down the gullet of the bird.

  Looking at my watch, I checked on the chicken cacciatore I'd started this morning and decided there would be enough if Pearlie and my dad wanted to stay for supper. Dad because he was avoiding his landlady and Pearlie because she hadn't met anyone she wanted to date in the last few months. Of all the people I would imagine going through a dry spell for company, it sure wouldn't be my cousin. Pearlie attracted men of all ages, shapes and sizes. She bussed the weathered cheeks of old men, teased the young ones until they blushed and accepted dates from men whose long-distance careers guaranteed nothing other than the occasional date.

  Thinking I must have missed seeing my dad cut through our property on his way to the mine, I left a note for Caleb and added that he could eat if he was hungry. It was more than likely he'd shower, have a beer and wait for me to return with Dad.

  Unlocking the doors to the barn, I moved the quad out and dodging cow patties along with gopher holes and prickly mesquite, left for his mine. Though the mine was officially part of my wedding gift from my great-aunt Mae, I figured if the mine kept my dad happy and busy, it was his to keep.

  My dad's Jeep and trailer were parked next to the tunnel entrance. I ducked my head into the cool, damp interior of the mine, thumbed on my flashlight and helloed into the cool, dark interior.

  "I'm back here," he called. "But be careful where you walk."

  Detouring around a pile of lumber, I turned on my flashlight and followed the beam of light to where he sat on a rock. He had a pick in one hand and a large rock in the other. An overhead battery operated lantern hung from a hook on a beam, but it was enough for him to work by.

  "I think I got me some good looking rough. Here," he said, shoving a piece of quartz into my hand, "shine your flashlight on this baby. Turn it around. That's it."

  I did as he said and was rewarded with a dull chunk of yellow. "Wow."

  "Yeah. I didn't think I'd actually see real gold so close to the surface. After the last sample I sent off to the assayer's office, I thought we were played out."

  "I'm glad to see you kept at it. This looks promising," I said, admiring the gold in the quartz.

  "That's the story your great-aunt Eula Mae told everyone when she boarded up this mine all those years ago. It's also the one I've been telling anyone who asks."

  "That should keep out poachers."

  "Coupled with warnings of possible cave-ins, I guess most folks have forgotten it's here."

  "Was there any truth to the cave-ins?"

  "Nothing that I can see. But just in case, I brought back some six-by-sixes. Now that I'm sure there's a vein to follow, I'm going to shore up the overhead beams and start digging again."

  I looked up at the beams and the sweaty rock over our heads. Water, as everyone knows, is a great mover of rocks and dirt, but it could spell trouble as well.

  "Don't you think you'd better hire someone to help with this, Dad? It's a bit much for one person."

  "And have someone snooping in here when I'm not around? No thanks."

  "You could put a door and a lock on the entrance."

  "Locks can be sawed off and a strong axe can take down a door."

  "How about a steel door?"

  "'I'm not having some darn stranger out here asking questions about my gold mine. A secret like this wouldn't last one day in Wishbone."

  "I suppose you're right, but what about the new patio? Aren't you supposed to be overseeing your workers?"

  "Rafael and his cousins are all but finished and with no forecasted rain, the contractor will start pouring the concrete tomorrow. So you see, I have nothing else to do with my time."

  "I thought you enjoyed the company of your landlady."

  "She wants me to become a vegetarian."

  "Sounds like a good idea. You are a heart patient, you know."

  "I'm a second hand vegetarian. Cows eat grass, I eat the cows, and I’m going to continue to enjoy eating that way till I die, thank you very much."

  Which reminded me to ask, "Mentioning eating, how was lunch with Coco Lucero?"

  "Fine."

  "Just fine?"

  "Sure," he said. "Her enchiladas are as tasty as anything our Juanita ever made." Using the pick he took a manly swing at the rock wall, sending dirt cascading down onto his head. Embarrassed, he coughed and waved away the dust.

  Obviously, Rafael's doe-eyed aunt had made an impression. "But does she have references," I asked. "You know, as a housekeeper?"

  "I know what you mean, but Juanita worked for us for almost forty years and she didn't have any references."

  Somehow the comparison didn't quite fit. Juanita had been with us for forty years because my mother said that if anything happened to her we should keep Juanita, no matter what. My mother was right. We would've starved without Juanita.

  I came back to the present when I heard a popping sound. The ceiling above us trembled and there was the distinct sound of wood breaking.

  "What was that?" I whispered.

  "Probably just the ground settling."

  There was another popping sound and the light from the hanging lantern swayed up the walls and back.

  When a cold breeze drifted across my neck, my throat seized up. "Caleb should be home by now," I said, swallowing hard. "I have crock-pot chicken cacciatore for dinner. Want to join us?"

  "Sounds good to me," Dad said, pulling the lantern off the overhead beam. "I'll start shoring up those beams tomorrow."

  I aimed my flashlight for the exit, now anxious to be out in the hot sun again.

  With my dad following, I felt silly that I was so easily scared out of the mine. Yes, it was dark, cold and damp, but we weren't that far from the entrance.

  "I thought you would have had enough of mines," I said over my shoulder. "Especially after falling into that mine pit and finding a dead body."

  "Not the same thing. There was no way out of that pit except up and my rope busted, so there I stayed," he said. "Me and a dead guy. I would've been dead too, if you and that nice Karen Paquette and her dog hadn't found me when you did."

  I heard another pop and this time, the side posts behind us folded onto their knees.

  My dad shoved me toward the light and cried out, "The roof's coming down! Run, Lalla!"

  I didn't need another warning and aiming the sickly beam of my flashlight toward the end of the tunnel, did as I was told. Stumbling over rocks in my path, waving my hands in front of my face, I coughed and sputtered and came to a stop. "The light's gone. Where-where's the exit?"

  I struggled to find the opening, but he held onto my arm. "Wait!"

  "No, Dad. We're almost out."

  "We can't. The cave-in has stopped. It's over."

  I jerked out of his grasp. "Then let's get out of here!"

  He took the flashlight out of my hand and waved it around the walls and ceiling.

  "It's holding," he said.

  "What do you mean? What's holding?"

  He moved the light from the ceiling down another rock wall. "Look for yourself."

  All I could see was a wall of rock. I turned around in a circle looking for the way out. "Did we make a wrong turn?"

  "There're no side tunnels. Just the one. The ceiling has collapsed in front and behind us. We're stuck in the middle until someone comes and digs us out."

  I stuttered with fear. "How-how far away are we from getting out of
here?"

  "I'm not sure, maybe thirty more feet?"

  I sighed in relief. "That's not far. I left Caleb a note that I was coming here. He'll have us out in no time."

  "That's thirty feet of rock and wet dirt to move, Lalla. It may take a while longer than that."

  What he wasn't saying was that we were walled into a pocket with limited air space. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place! In the dull glow of my flashlight, the bony ridge of my father's forehead and cheeks glowed and his eyes were shadowed so deeply that the image appeared to morph into a bone white skull.

  "Turn off the flashlight," the white skull said. "We may be here for a while."

  .

  Chapter Eight:

  "What time is it?" I asked.

  "I'm guessing about ten minutes past the last time you asked and no, I won't turn on the flashlight so I can look again; it'll just wear down the batteries."

  "Do you think they know we're in here?"

  "'Course they do. Caleb and probably half of Wishbone―hell, just my luck―maybe all of Wishbone. I'll bet there're even some old timers out there, showing them how to dig." He sighed. "Guess my secret was never meant to last."

  "Miners? They'd have to be really old, wouldn't they?"

  "The Lavender mine closed in the 1970's and some of the retirees are still docents for the mine tour. They dress you up in yellow slickers and hardhats and you get to ride in the mine cars. We should do it sometime."

  "If we ever get out of this mine, I'll consider it."

  "Ah, don't be so negative," my dad said, hugging me a little closer.

  "This from the man who isn't happy unless he has something to complain about. The weather or the number of house guests we had for my wedding."

  "And your favorite attitude should be gratitude, missy," There was no light to see his expression, but his voice was only slightly defensive.

  "Do you ever think about what you would've done for a living if you hadn't become an aero-ag pilot?"

  "I dunno. It's a rare thing for a man to get paid for doing what he loves and I loved flying. I made some pretty good money, too. I was near to busting my buttons when I finally had the cash to pay off the mortgage on the ranch."

  "But did you ever feel as if you had lost out on some unfulfilled destiny having to raise kids as a widower?"

  He was quiet for a moment. "I used to think the ranch, my planes, trucks, even my business reputation were what defined me as a man. I thought of it as my investment, something I had a stake in that I could leave to my children. Then I had that heart attack and my life took a turn."

  "Like what?"

  "Like that my real investment was my family, my children. Oh, I know I was impatient with your brother, annoyed that he would rather be a set designer in San Francisco than fly airplanes, but I got over that and before he died, didn't I? And I haven't done such a bad job of raising you, have I?"

  I sniffed back my tears and said, "Are you saying all this stuff because you think we won't get out of here alive?"

  "Don't be silly. Of course we'll get out of here."

  "But just in case, you're coming clean now?"

  "Okay, okay. I know I wasn't easy on you, but I do believe that a pint of example is worth a gallon of advice."

  Never mind that he spent his days after heart surgery dealing out orders for the business from his barcalounger, or that he tended to favor his anemic clients over more profitable ones. Still, I wouldn't have traded those years for anything, so I guess we were even.

  "You were a damn good pilot; maybe better'n your brother ever would've been, too."

  "Oh crap," I said with a moan. "We are going to die in here."

  "Will you stop that? Danged if I ever pay you a compliment again."

  "I'm sorry." I sniffled and thinking it best to change the subject, I said, "Do you ever dream about flying?"

  "Every once in a while. But for some reason I’m not in an airplane, I've got my arms spread wide and I'm soaring over the earth, looking down on the San Joaquin Valley."

  "Yeah, I dream like that, too," I said. "Kinda fun isn't it?"

  "With Ron Barbour dead, you and Pearlie can still set up your own P.I. business, right?"

  "I was thinking I'd build a greenhouse and raise hydroponic tomatoes."

  He was quiet for a minute. "You're joking, right?"

  "It's looking like the P.I. business may not happen after all."

  "Sure it will. Just have Pearlie make up a card for your greenhouse tomatoes."

  "If only." But since we were likely to be stuck here in the dark for a few more hours, I figured I might as well tell him what we'd discovered about Ron Barbour.

  After explaining it all to him, I said, "I suppose you're going to tell me, a fool and his money are soon parted."

  "I don't think you're a fool for investing in a business. From what I've read, good investigators are in demand these days. And if Ron Barbour taught you girls as much as you say he did, then it's not a waste of your money. So tell me, who do you think killed Ron and what're you girls going to do about it?"

  "I think Ron must've uncovered a suspect," I said. "And that person is still very much alive and willing to kill again to keep his secret."

  "A man whose past can't stand the light of day will be dangerous. Think about it. His secret had been safe and secure all these years. Could Ron have found and tried to blackmail this man? And gotten killed for it?"

  "If that's true, the killer has to be someone whose financial worth is wrapped up in their very important position in this community."

  "Now you sound like a real P.I."

  But since I couldn't do anything about it right now, I yawned and tried for a more comfortable position on the cold, hard surface of the dirt floor. "It's getting colder. I wonder if we'll die of hypothermia or just run out of oxygen."

  He laughed and hugged me tighter. "We'll make it. They're digging for us right now. You'll see. Any minute now they'll be breaking through."

  "I'd be hungry if I weren't so cold."

  "Quiet," he said.

  "I know, I know, don't be negative."

  "Not that. I heard something. Wait―there."

  I heard it too. It was the sound of rocks being moved, dropped, a man's voice.

  I got to my knees and felt the rock wall vibrate. "They're coming. They're getting close!"

  Dad pulled himself up to the wall. I put his hands next to mine so he could feel it, too. Nothing. Had I imagined it all?

  I moved my hands to another cool rock, waiting for the sound of a voice, a movement, anything.

  "There!" my dad said. "Wish I had my hammer or pick to signal them."

  "Then we'll just have to start yelling," I said, and opening my mouth to draw in a lung full of weak oxygen, I saw a man's leather gloved hand break through.

  I threw a hand up against the bright beam of light shattering our small, dark prison, then joyfully sobbed.

  An excited voice pierced the hole. "They're here!"

  Another hand, this one black with dust, the fingers ungloved and bleeding, yanked out another rock and reached through to grab my hand.

  "Move back as far as you can, sweetheart. We're going to break through."

  "Caleb!" I cried, thrilled to hear his dear voice.

  We did as we were told and scrambled back until we were as far away as we could get from the breaking wall of rock.

  .

  Chapter Nine:

  Swaddled in blankets, Caleb and another man led us out of the tunnel and into bright light and applause. After the hours spent in the pitch black of the mine, my eyes were having a hard time adjusting to daylight.

  I saw people we knew, Pearlie, Sheriff Ian Tom, Karen Paquette and what looked like our entire Cochise County Search and Rescue team pushing close to grin, hug and slap us on the back.

  "What time is it?" I asked.

  "Two a.m.," Caleb said. "We've been at it all night, taking turns digging, bringing out rock until we pushed
through. Your search and rescue unit set up a relief station with first aid supplies and hot coffee. I don’t know what I would've done without them."

  "Two a.m.? Then why is it so bright?"

  "Someone brought klieg lights on stands so we could continue to work through the night."

  We stepped into the crowd of well-wishers, all of them smiling and wiping tears from their dirt smeared faces. I gapped and stuttered my thanks. "I can't believe it. All these people?"

  "Yes," The exhaustion in his voice was tinged with pride. "Off duty police officers, firemen, deputies and some miners whose expertise with mine collapse sure came in handy. They set up a rotation so there would be no down time. Someone was always digging."

  I picked up his bruised and bleeding hands, my heart filled with love. "Oh, Caleb, you didn't rest."

  "They forced food and coffee on me a few times, but I couldn’t stop," he said, kissing the top of my dusty head. "Not until I knew you and your dad were alive and safe."

  I broke out of his warm embrace long enough to thank our rescuers. I thanked them all and told them that I would never forget their bravery and kindness to me and my family. "And, if ever any of you need a helping hand, you've only to ask. Thank you my friends."

  "Now," I said to Caleb, the last of my energy melting away. "Take me home."

  As Caleb was about to settle me into the quad, I stopped. "Where's Dad?"

  "He's talking to one of mining families, but I'll go ask if he's ready to go."

  He came back from the tight group of people surrounding my dad and said, "Someone by the name of Gabby will bring him home later. Right now, it looks like he's made some new friends."

  "That's good," I said, yawning.

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