“What’s going on?” she forced out. Her pulse was racing, her throat growing dry. The look on the leader’s oblong face was anything but friendly.
He smiled, showing his crooked yellow teeth. Motioning to the maps, he said in halting English, “These are the maps where the emeralds are?”
Cat’s fingers closed over the handle of the Colt, but she knew she would be foolish to try anything. All three soldiers carried weapons.
“No,” she lied, “I’m an engineer. I build mines. These are construction blueprints.”
His smile remained fixed as he slowly approached her. “I’m El Tigre, señorita. You have heard of me, no?” He twisted one drooping end of his greasy mustache, which hung down over his mouth.
Cat nodded carefully. “Yeah, I’ve heard of you.”
“Then you know enough not to lie.” He let his hand fall on an eight-inch sheathed blade in a black leather belt at his waist.
“I’m not lying.”
El Tigre’s brown, feral eyes glittered and he ruthlessly assessed her in the thick, mounting silence. “No? Then who knows where the emeralds are to be found?”
Cat slowly turned, letting her hand move away from her pistol. “Listen, the owners don’t even know if there are emeralds here, Señor Tigre.”
He laughed; it was a curt, harsh sound. “No one gathers this kind of equipment and men if there aren’t emeralds, señorita. Don’t think me stupid!”
There was no way to escape; only one door had been built into the shack. The portable radio was set on the drafting board, but she couldn’t signal Slade or Alvin that she needed help. Cat had the feeling if she made even the slightest move to escape, the Colombian guaquero would turn violent, like a rabid dog.
“I’ve been hired to build, that’s all. I’m not a geologist.”
El Tigre stepped up to her. “Then who is?”
Cat winced, assailed by the sour, unwashed smell of his body. “The geologist is still up in the States.”
“Maybe, maybe not…” He reached out to touch her cheek.
Cat reacted out of instinct. The sound of the slap she delivered to the man shot through the shack. She scrambled out of the chair, her back against the wall, braced for whatever retribution might come.
El Tigre cursed, holding his injured jaw, glaring at her. “You,” he snarled softly, “will live to regret this. I’m not done with you, señorita.” He grabbed several sets of blueprints, turned and snapped orders to his men. They opened the door, disappearing into the gathering night. Before he left, El Tigre lifted his finger, waving it at her threateningly. “No one touches me, especially a gringo woman. Sleep lightly, señorita, for I’ll be back. And next time, have the information I want or your pretty face will look like this.” He jerked the knife from its scabbard and stabbed it into the drafting board, tearing long, deep scars through the remaining maps and wood.
*
Slade had noticed three men go up to the construction shack on the hill. He had climbed down from the bulldozer he’d been manning to give the driver a break. By the time he had gotten to the Jeep and driven up the rutted excuse of a road, they were gone. He walked in the open door and immediately saw Cat slumped against the drawing board, her head resting in one hand. And then he saw the destroyed blueprints beneath her elbow and the damage made by the knife.
“Cat? What happened?”
She looked up, giving Slade a wobbly smile meant to neutralize the concern in his voice.
“El Tigre and two of his men dropped in for a chat–of sorts.”
Slade was instantly at her side, anxiously turning her toward him. “Did he hurt you?”
“Scared the hell out of me, but no, he didn’t hurt me.” She leaned against Slade’s powerful chest, sinking into his arms. Only then did Cat release a shaky sigh, showing just how scared she had been.
“Tell me everything,” he ordered harshly.
Afterward, Slade gathered up the rest of the blueprints, rolled them and stored them in the Jeep. The scowl on his brow had deepened as Cat had relayed the sequence of events. As they bumped on down the road toward base camp, he muttered, “I didn’t think he’d jump us this soon.”
“We should probably thank him, Slade.”
“Why?”
“If he’s got that good a nose for green fire, then your mine is a success even before we get a chance to start looking for the calcite matrix.”
With a snort, Slade agreed. He gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles whitening. “You think on your feet pretty good. Telling him the geologist was in the States was an excellent idea.”
Cat traded a glance with him. “Only if he believes it.” She tried to quell her own fear that if El Tigre knew Slade was the geologist, his life, too, was in very real danger. She tried to shove back the nightmare played out by her overactive imagination. El Tigre would torture the information out of Slade, and she knew it. After having met the bandit, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d kill Slade after he got the information. An icy shiver moved up her spine.
“There’s no safe place, is there?” she asked hollowly.
Slade brought the Jeep to a halt near their tent. He reached over and covered her hand, now clenched against her thigh. “No, there isn’t. Come on, let’s tell Alvin what happened. We’ll figure something out.”
*
The next week went by without incident. Two of Alvin’s cowboys guarded Cat at all times while she worked at the shack. The jungle was removed, leaving the black overburden of soil. Almost immediately, a thin white vein of exposed limestone was discovered by the miners. Cat had watched in fascination as Alvin and Slade went down with the miners, gently breaking up the soft limestone with crowbars, prying it apart to see if they could find the telltale white calcite. And all the time, her gaze moved restlessly across the wall of jungle surrounding them. Somewhere in there were El Tigre and his cutthroat band.
The five or six hours Cat slept, with Slade nearby, became important. She rarely saw him during the day, although he would drop in unexpectedly to see her. The stolen kisses, unseen by anyone in the privacy of the shack, became her sustenance. At night in the privacy of their tent Slade’s hands would slide knowingly down her damp body, filling her with the fire of their longing and erasing her fears. The mine became secondary to the threat El Tigre presented. Cat lived with the terror that the guaqueros would capture Slade.
Going back into the shack after dinner one night, Cat focused on her next project: getting the hardwood tree, pao d’arco, cut and brought down from the hillsides of Caballo so the beams could be cut and measured for use. The numbers before her blurred and Cat squeezed her eyes shut. You’re tired, her mind screamed. Yes, she was tired. Sleep came grudgingly, if at all. She tossed and turned on her cot, El Tigre’s viperlike eyes haunting her. If nothing else, Cat thought as she opened her eyes, pulling the hand calculator toward her, it’s made me own up to the fact that I’m in love with Slade.
*
One week later, it happened.
“Pay dirt!” Slade breathed. The three of them crouched on the ground over a partially exposed limestone vein halfway up Caballo’s western flank. A miner had discovered the white, flaky calcite matrix in the oppressive afternoon heat. Slade had called Alvin and Cat on their radios. They stood nearby while he patiently pried the matrix, as large as his hand, out of the embrace of the limestone. Pleasure wreathed Slade’s features as he held the matrix up for them to see.
Cat gasped. Alvin gave a pleased chortle. Slade grinned rakishly, holding the white calcite in his palm. There, in its center, were four hexagonal green crystals varying in height from one inch to six inches. None of them was less than a quarter of an inch in diameter. Stunned, Cat watched as the rays of the sun glinted through the emerald crystals, showing their clarity.
“Green fire,” Slade said hoarsely, holding the crystals up toward the sun. The molten emeralds gleamed like living beings, catching and refracting the light.
“My gawd,�
�� Alvin whispered, “look how clear they are.”
Slade’s face glistened with sweat, his teeth white against his darkly tanned flesh. “Muzo’s deep color and Chivor’s clarity. This is what I had been hoping for…”
Word of the find spread through the miners like a ripple of wind through a field of wheat. Cat stood back, watching the spectacle unfold. For a week, they had carefully poked and prodded through the limestone vein without success. A six-foot-high cyclone fence topped with barbed wire had been erected around the pit. As she stood watching the hope suddenly come alive in the Indians’ faces, Cat felt frightened. El Tigre was out there, watching them–she could feel his eyes. She turned away, heading back to her shack on the hill. By four o’clock, the first of the dynamite that had been drilled into the limestone face would be triggered and an opening would be made. The mine–her mine–would begin taking shape, and soon she would have to go back inside the earth.
Despite the hundred-degree heat and ninety-percent humidity, Cat was cold. She took off her white construction hat, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. The day she had been dreading had come. Part of her was happy about the emerald find, and Cat was sure there were more stones to be discovered. Taking a breath to support her deteriorating courage, she plunged ahead with her plans. A dynamite expert from the U.S., Tony Alvarez, was standing at the door to her shack when she arrived.
“We’re ready when you are, Cat.”
Cat forced a slight smile, then went inside to grab her portable radio and hook it on her web belt.
“What have we got?” she asked, getting into the Jeep.
Tony hopped in. “I prepped the area after I got rid of the overburden.” He used his long, expressive hands. “The shot holes are drilled and loaded with dynamite. The blasting caps are in place and my crew has just collared each of the holes with clay.”
Cat glanced at him as she drove the Jeep down the dusty road toward the valley. “Are you going to use millisecond delays between detonations to produce maximum fragmentation of the rock?”
“Sure am, boss. I’m using a four-hole, pyramid-cut pattern. It will give us a seven-by-seven-foot entrance and blow out rock seven feet behind it. We’re using low charges so we won’t destroy any emeralds that get in the way of our creating an opening into Mother Earth.”
“Good,” Cat said. She parked the Jeep a good distance from where the series of blasts would take place in the hill. All jungle growth and soil had been removed, exposing the pale green limestone. From her vantage point, using binoculars, Cat could see that Tony had set up the wall for detonation. She signaled Tony to set off the siren. The high-pitched wail shrieked over the area of the Verde, alerting everyone that blasting was going to take place. Tony raised his arm, alerting his two men who stood by the plunger.
Her mouth was dry as she lowered the binoculars. “All right, Tony, give them the signal.”
The plunger was shoved down, making electrical contact with the pattern Tony had drilled into the limestone face. Ten explosions rocked Caballo, each seconds apart. Limestone spewed outward in fragments, and a huge, roiling white cloud of dust rose in the wake of the detonations. Cat’s ears ached from the puncturing, thunderous roll that each one had caused. The air was pregnant with humidity and swallowed up the sound. Ears ringing, Cat lifted the glasses to her eyes. The dust slowly cleared and, as it did, she got the first look at the opening.
“Looks good, Tony,” Cat praised. She had chosen a slope mine, using a slanting entry to follow the vein of limestone that carried the calcite and emerald. The dynamite had done its job, creating the entry, or adit, into the hillside. Now excavation of the debris would begin and the first of the pao d’arco beams would begin to be shored into place. The Verde mine had just been born.
Chapter Eleven
Come on, I’ll go in with you.” Slade rested his hand on Cat’s shoulder, feeling her tension. He saw the distraught look in her eyes and smiled. “What’s this? Did you think I wouldn’t escort you into the Verde mine?”
Cat relaxed beneath the massaging power of Slade’s fingers on her shoulder. She had stayed away from actually entering the new mine shaft as long as she could. The last time she had seen Slade, he had been far above them in the pit, working side by side with the miners, looking for another calcite nest. A good, warm feeling flowed through her as Slade matched her slow walk toward the maw.
“I thought you were busy elsewhere,” she said, knowing her voice sounded strained.
“Remember?” Slade said, becoming serious, settling his hard hat on his head. “I told you that you were more important than green fire.”
A tremulous smile fled across Cat’s mouth. “Judging from the look on your face earlier when you held that calcite bearing the emerald, I wondered, Slade.”
His smile was devastating. “Don’t. I promised you I’d be here when you needed me.”
The shadow of the hill enveloped them, and Cat slowed to a stop a few feet from the shaft entrance. Already, wooden forms were being erected to create a permanent opening to the Verde. Once the forms were in place, concrete would be poured into them. Thick, rectangular beams of pao d’arco lay in huge, neat piles nearby. Some were already being hauled over to the mouth of the shaft.
Cat felt her stomach shrink into a knot. Her lips felt dry. She didn’t dare hesitate in front of the miners who covertly watched her. The limestone was jagged from the explosions and would have to be knocked off the walls to prevent injury. She stepped into the mouth, vaguely aware of a minimal temperature drop. Slade remained at her side as they walked back the first seven feet. They stood in the center of the footwall where the rubble had been removed, both looking overhead, studying the manging wall.
Slade glanced down at her. Even in the shadowy grayness of the mine, he could see how pale Cat had become. Small beads of sweat stood out on her wrinkled brow as she assessed the ceiling with a critical eye. A fierce wave of pride overwhelmed him. Despite Cat’s fear, she was holding her ground.
“We’re going to need rock bolts,” she said, pointing to the spiderweb pattern on the ceiling where the rock had been fractured.
Slade nodded in agreement. Often, the systematic use of rock bolts reinforced roofs of mines that might cave in, or they strengthened existing walls in case of earthquake. “We’ve got an ample supply,” he said.
Suddenly, Cat wanted to run. She wanted to scream. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to measure off the distance to where the first post and stulls would be set. The activity helped keep her fear contained, and as she talked with the Indian foreman in Spanish, a little more of the fear receded.
“I want those rock bolts under high tension, Pablo.”
The foreman, a man close to fifty with graying hair beneath his red hard hat, nodded. “Si, Patrona.”
“I’ll be testing them,” she warned him.
Slade smiled to himself. Cat would, too. That would mean she’d be spending a hell of a lot of time in the mine measuring them with a torque meter. Much later, Slade followed Cat out of the mine. He traded a knowing glance with her as she took off her hard hat, wiping her sweaty features.
“Congratulations,” he told her in a low voice, “you did it. First time’s always the toughest.”
With a weary smile, Cat threw the hat back on her head. She watched the beams being hauled to the entrance. From here on, the building of the mine would continue for twenty-four hours a day with three crew shifts working. She would be up sixteen of those hours to keep pace with the rapid expansion of the mine until they hit a vein with calcite in it. Then, work would slow accordingly to open up the vein and hunt for the emeralds.
“I’m so shaky, my knees are knocking, Slade.”
“How about if I hold you tonight?”
The gritty warmth of his lowered voice washed through her and Cat shared a soft smile with him. The words I love you were almost torn from her. “Sounds wonderful, fella.”
“Hey, this evening, Alvin’s celebr
ating the mine start-up by making a special dinner for us.”
Alvin was a fine cook and Cat eagerly looked forward to most of his cowboy meals. “What’s on the menu?”
Slade chuckled. “Texican beef, hunkydummy, potato dumplin’s and apple pan dowdy. A meal fit for a king and queen, believe me. My mouth’s watering already.”
Cat’s wasn’t. “Hunkydummy? What’s that?” Alvin had a couple of other cowboy recipes she’d just as soon forget about. Every night when they settled around their campfire where Alvin was fixing the vittles, Cat went over every item he was cooking before she ate it.
“It’s a kind of bread with raisins and cinnamon sprinkled over the top of it.”
“Oh, that sounds pretty good.”
Slade laughed. “You’re such a sissy,” he chided.
“I’m from Colorado, Slade, not Texas. Some of the wild food Alvin whips up could only be consumed by a Texas cowhand. Give me a break!”
*
Back at the shack, Cat sat down at her drafting board. Her hand shook as she picked up a blue pencil. Closing her eyes, she dropped the pencil and sat there, allowing the cold wash of fear to drench her. After a few minutes, she lifted her head, a wry smile on her lips. How could she have lived so long and not known real fear?
Absently, she picked up the pencil, going through the motions of making notations on the blueprint. The fear wasn’t all negative, she mused, nearly awed by that realization. No, it had shown her that another person could give her the necessary strength to press forward.
Had Slade’s love given her that support? Cat hesitated over the blueprint as she centered on that question. He had never said he loved her, nor had she told him. Nevertheless, she felt whole as never before, regardless of the fear that stalked her about mine entry. With a soft laugh, Cat shook her head. So, was this real love, this feeling of completeness that Slade automatically gave to her? Cat couldn’t imagine life without Slade’s presence. He made each minute, each hour important. And they were, with him.
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