by Dana Mentink
Chris Larraby pulled up in his police vehicle next to Barrett. He hastened from the car and entered the shop. Barrett hesitated only a moment longer before he followed Larraby in.
“You need to be reasonable,” Shelby was saying. She did a double take when she saw Barrett, but she did not move away from her position across the counter from Hatcher.
Hatcher looked anything but reasonable. His nostrils flared like an enraged bull’s. “Don’t care what your fancy papers say.”
“That’s why I asked Officer Larraby to come,” Shelby said, calmly.
“Sorry I was late,” Larraby said. “Something came up.”
“Gonna strong-arm me, Chris?” Hatcher said.
“Nothing like that, Joe, just calm down.”
Shelby shook her head. “I have a legal right to go in that mine and he’s here to see that you comply.”
“That right?” Hatcher said, staring at Larraby. “You gonna force me?”
“Let her do her thing,” Larraby said. “She’s within the law.”
“And if you interfere,” Shelby said, “you’re breaking it.” Her expression softened a bit. “Look, I don’t want to make this hard on you. I’m here to assess the mine. That’s all. That’s my job.”
Hatcher’s eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “And if you decide there’s gold worth mining down there, I have to let your uncle dig up my place?”
“That’s not my decision to make. I’m only a fact finder.”
“Well, find your facts somewhere else,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna let you snoop around my property.”
Shelby crossed her arms. “Why not, Mr. Hatcher? What are you so afraid that I will see?”
Time seemed to stop for a moment as the two locked eyes. Then Hatcher slammed a hand down on the counter. “I ain’t afraid. It’s the principle.”
But Barrett had seen the evidence and he knew Shelby had, too, the flash of emotion that darted across Joe Hatcher’s face. Fear. What was the source, Barrett wondered.
He felt a presence at his elbow and looked down at the petite Emmaline. The blond-haired woman was probably in her early twenties, yet she had the appearance of a teen. She chewed her lip, arms folded protectively around her, brown eyes wide.
Barrett nodded at her. “A little disagreement. Going to be okay.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “I hate yelling.”
Probably heard a lot of that with Joe Hatcher for a father, Barrett figured.
Larraby’s radio crackled and he listened to the dispatcher for a moment. “I have to go. Let the lady on your property.”
“Now?” Hatcher demanded.
“Now.”
“That an order?”
“I don’t want to make it into one. Just do it.”
Shelby and Barrett followed Larraby out to his car. Emmaline trailed behind.
“Thank you, Officer,” Shelby said.
Larraby scowled. “Don’t thank me. I don’t like strangers coming into town and upsetting the locals. Personally, I would react the same way Joe is. Do what you need to do. Get in and get out.”
Shelby’s cheeks pinked, but she did not reply.
“Aren’t you going to stay in case things go bad?” Barrett said.
“Joe’s not going to do anything.” Larraby yanked open his car door. “And I’m a cop, not a babysitter.”
“This isn’t safe, with everything that’s happened,” Barrett growled.
“If you’re so concerned, you go with her.” He slammed the door and drove away.
Hatcher stalked out of the saddlery. His face was splotched with anger.
“Are you taking me to the mine entrance now, Mr. Hatcher?” Shelby asked.
He didn’t answer but his expression was murderous. He started up the gravel path that cut around the shop and into the trees. Rocks ground under his booted feet. He did not look back to see if Shelby was following.
“That’s the way to the mine,” Emmaline said, chewing her lip. “It’s hard to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
Shelby smiled and thanked the young woman. “You must be Emmaline. They told me in town you lived here with your dad. I’m sorry I’ve caused so much ruckus.”
“Daddy doesn’t like ruckus unless he’s the one causing it.” She sighed. “Better catch up with him if you want to find the mine. I would go with you to help but...” She shivered. “My mom used to explore all the time. She was kind of an amateur geologist, I think. I never liked it. It’s so lonely up there. There are strange sounds, and at night...” She shrugged.
“I’ll make sure I’m not here at night,” Shelby said with a gentle smile at Emmaline. “Thank you. I’ll go catch up with him.” She hurried after Hatcher.
Barrett tried to think of something to say to stop her, but he came up blank.
Emmaline eyed the saddles in Barrett’s truck. “Did you need those tended to, Mr. Thorn? If you bring them inside, I can write up your order.”
“Thanks.” Barrett hauled the saddles into the shop.
While Emmaline scrawled out the order on a notepad, he was thinking about Shelby.
It’s so lonely up there.
In light of what had happened the previous night, Barrett was angry at Larraby for driving off and leaving Hatcher to lead the stubborn Shelby.
If you’re so concerned, then you go with her.
He wasn’t concerned, not about Shelby. The woman would do whatever she dreamed up, regardless. No, he wasn’t worried about her.
Except that his stomach muscles were taut and the niggling in his nerves would not be ignored.
Barrett Thorn often thought he’d become another person since Bree died. An observer of life instead of a participator, a guy who let life roll past him like a river while he watched, rooted to the bank. But there was one thing that had not changed about him—that gut sense of right and wrong that his conscience would never let him ignore. Right now, his gut was hollering loud and clear that Shelby Arroyo should not be left in the hands of Joe Hatcher, no matter how much his father believed in Hatcher’s character.
Sighing heavily, he thanked Emmaline and left the shop, grabbed a flashlight and his hat from his truck and headed up the slope the two had taken.
“Mr. Thorn,” Emmaline called. “Are you going up there, too?”
“Yeah,” he said, yanking his jacket zipper. “Looks like I am.”
* * *
Shelby had to jog to catch up with Hatcher. She did not try to make small talk, just did her best not to slow his progress. As she trotted along, she could not help but wonder if the ground underneath her feet was laced with veins of quartz that might yield a rich gold strike, an assayer’s dream. A tremor of excitement rippled through her at the thought that she might literally be standing above the answer to Uncle Ken’s problems.
After several recent conversations, Uncle Ken had finally confided to her that his real estate business had been languishing. She knew the lawyers for Devon had been costly, too.
It stoked the feeling of guilt inside her. Uncle Ken had supplemented her meager earnings to pay for her college. He’d been more of a provider than her own folks, with her mother spending whatever money her father sent. She could never understand why her mother insisted that Shelby and Erin live with her instead of their father.
Why can’t we just go live with Dad? she remembered shouting at her mother in one of her teenage fits. He’s got a steady job and he knows how to keep money in the bank. He misses us and you never even let us visit him. It was bold talk since she’d only received a couple of letters and one phone call from her absent father.
Children belong with their mother, she would always reply. So when her mother frittered away yet another paycheck on new clothes for the girls or a trip to the z
oo, Shelby would try to work even more hours at her part-time jobs.
It had not been enough to pay for school, so Uncle Ken stepped in. Erin had put off going to college because their mother’s medical needs had been too great. When Shelby started to bring in an income that provided for her mother, she’d insisted her sister should delay her schooling no longer. Now it was Shelby’s turn to funnel as much money as she could to both Erin and her mother. Shelby would help her make it through nursing school, after she got Uncle Ken’s situation straightened out. Hopefully a rich vein of gold in the mine would recoup everything he’d invested in her.
Her throat thickened at the memory of his shrunken appearance when she’d arrived the week before. The toll of Devon’s trial and imprisonment had cost Uncle Ken more than money. He was a shadow of the man he used to be.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she and Hatcher crested a steep hill. Down below them was a scrub-covered gorge and in front, a crumbling stone cliff. Hatcher seemed to consider a moment before he plunged through the knee-high shrubs. Grateful that she had worn her hiking boots and a windbreaker, she fell in behind him.
As they walked farther into the untamed growth, she suppressed a shiver. Was she walking into the wilderness with the man who had attacked her, thrown dynamite at her? But the police knew the situation, so surely Hatcher would not risk his own freedom by harming her. Unless the man was just plain crazy, she thought uneasily.
They stopped at a spot where the ground and the cliff intersected. All she could see was a tangle of branches and wild grasses that came up to her thighs. Hatcher pushed aside the foliage.
“Here.”
She peered beyond him. At the bottom of the cliff was a dark hole about six feet across and just about her height. Across the gap was an iron fence, screwed into the rock on each side, secured by a rusty padlock. Hatcher fished out a key ring from his pocket and selected a key. She thought his look turned calculating as he removed it from the ring and shouldered past her to unlock the padlock and wrench aside the fence.
“Well, now,” he said with a smile. “In you go.”
She hesitated, a blast of chilled air wafting out of the entrance. It was pitch-black inside. Her nerves screamed at her not to deliver herself into that gaping maw.
“I...”
“Whatsa matter?” He came closer. “You scared?”
“No. Are you coming, too?”
“Uh-uh. Wild animals in there,” he said with a cunning smile. “Some of the tunnels are flooded, too. Real slippery-like. Old guy like me can’t risk falling and breaking a hip, but you’re young and strong and sure of yourself, ain’t you?” He laughed a wet, crackling laugh. “Won’t be a problem for you at all, going into the mine all alone.”
“She’s not going in alone.”
Shelby whirled to see Barrett Thorn standing right behind Hatcher, his expression calm and implacable as always.
“You don’t have to...” Shelby started. “I mean, I can go in by myself.”
“Isn’t right.”
Barrett’s lips drew together in a determined line. Shelby understood that there was no way she was going to change this cowboy’s mind. She was not sure whether she should be flattered or infuriated. Somehow, the feeling that rose to the top was relief.
“Awww, ain’t that chivalrous?” Hatcher said. “If you two are both stupid enough to want to crawl around that mine, then go right ahead. I’ll be in the shop. If you need me, just whistle.” He moved back, the grin still wide, allowing Shelby to step inside.
The darkness engulfed her immediately, so she switched on her flashlight. Barrett crowded in behind, ducking to squeeze his head under the ceiling of stone.
Shelby beamed her flashlight above, the light sparking on the moisture seeping from the rock.
A loud clang shook the walls and made her cry out. They spun around to see Hatcher slam the gate and click the padlock closed.
SEVEN
Shelby was at the bars in a moment, striking her palm on the metal. Barrett crowded behind her.
“Open this gate,” she yelled.
There was no answer, no sign of Hatcher.
“Hatcher,” Barrett boomed, bracing his arms around her body and calling over her head. “You better unlock it right now before I kick it down.” She could feel his breath warm on her neck, the anger turning his arms to steel.
Still no answer. Her heart hammered against her ribs. It was lunacy to lock them in here with the police knowing where they were. She’d left a note for Uncle Ken this time, as well. What was Hatcher trying to prove?
Barrett shouted again and to her relief, Hatcher appeared, laughing.
“No need to go all Rambo,” he said, reaching for the padlock. “I was just joking around. You should have seen the look on your faces,” he said. “I’ll open it up.”
He fiddled with the lock, bending closer until his nose was inches from the old metal. “Just one more minute... Oh.” He stared at the lock and then straightened. “Would you look at that?” He held up the key, now broken in half. “Busted. Other half’s stuck in the lock.”
“And I’m supposed to believe that was an accident?” Shelby said.
“Don’t matter what you believe, missy,” he said. “Key’s broken. Gonna have to go back to the workshop and get another. I think I got a spare somewhere in the back room. I’ll just go get it, shall I?”
Shelby squashed the sensation of panic at being locked in. “Yes.”
“And if you aren’t back here in a half hour,” Barrett snapped, “my brothers will come with a pair of bolt cutters if I don’t have it kicked down myself.”
“Sure, sure,” Hatcher said, waving an airy hand. “Call ’em up on your cell, why don’t you? I’ll be back as quick as I can. You enjoy that mine now, Miss Arroyo.” He left, whistling, his pace leisurely and relaxed.
Barrett kicked at the bars so hard Shelby almost screamed. Again and again he slammed his booted foot into the metal with such force it caused debris to rain down on them.
“Stop,” she said, grabbing his arm. “It might be unstable.”
He grunted in frustration.
Shelby got out her cell phone. “I have no signal here. You?”
Barrett stepped away, breathing hard, and checked his phone. “Nothing. That explains Hatcher’s cat-in-the-cream look.” Barrett’s own look was that of a caged lion. “He knew we weren’t going to be calling for help.”
Shelby shook her head. “So we’re really locked in here until he gets back?”
“Looks that way.”
“And he’s going to take his sweet time, isn’t he?”
Barrett fisted his hands on his hips, flashing her a look of pure exasperation. “Well, what did you expect?”
“I didn’t expect a welcome mat, but I figured with the cops here, he would comply at least.”
Barrett’s eyes blazed in the gloom. “You forced his hand. That wasn’t smart. He threatened to kill you, and here you were ready to climb inside an abandoned mine all by yourself.”
Tipping her head up so she could look him in the eye, she folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t have to yell. I didn’t ask you to come.”
She heard his teeth grind together. “I’m not yelling. I’m talking forcefully.”
“Well, you can stay here and talk forcefully to yourself. I’m going to look around.”
He caught her hand. “Not a good idea.”
Her pulse skittered as she felt the strength in his grip, caught the musky scent of his soap. “You don’t get to give me commands. I’m not one of your horses.”
“Horses would have more sense.”
She pulled away. “This is what I came here to do, locked in or not. I might as well make use of the time.” She turned before he could toss back an answ
er. He was right, of course, she had forced Hatcher into a corner, but there hadn’t seemed to be another choice. His reluctance to let her in surpassed mere orneriness. The guy was desperate to hide something.
Her flashlight picked out a downward slanting tunnel that disappeared to the left. It was high enough for her to walk easily, the stone walls glimmering with moisture. The air was chilled and damp, but she sucked in a deep breath of it anyway. It was the fragrance of things long hidden and undisturbed. For some reason she found it comforting, always had.
“Owww,” Barrett said, and she realized he was a few steps behind her.
“Ceiling’s a little low here.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking off his hat and rubbing a hand across his forehead.
“I really don’t need an escort,” she said stiffly. Especially not a disgruntled cowboy.
“Oh, I think you do.”
“I’m not helpless.”
“More like disaster prone.”
She did not dignify that with an answer. There might be a whiff of truth to it anyway, since she’d been in a perpetual mess since she came to Gold Bar.
Barrett ducked around a low-hanging cone of rock. “What are you looking for?”
“Oh, you know, big chunks of gold sticking out of the walls. Jewels, maybe, like that scene from Snow White.”
“I’m not an idiot,” he snapped. “I know a little about the mining process.”
She could not resist a smile. “Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood. I’m getting acclimated right now. Looking at the formations, the layering in the rock. I’ll probably drill for a sample later, but right now a hand grab would work.”
“All right. Grab the nearest rock and let’s get back to the entrance.”
“Why the rush? Scared, cowboy?” she said, raising an eyebrow, enjoying teasing him.
“Not scared, smart. The rock is sopping wet and slippery, or didn’t you notice?”
“I did,” she said. “I’m hoping the lower levels of the mine aren’t completely flooded.”
“Then let’s be smart about it and come back tomorrow with battery-powered flashlights, rubber-soled shoes and someone standing guard at the fence.”