Too Far Down

by Mary Connealy

  “It was always speculated that they acted a lot smarter’n they looked. Dantalion was known around the Natchez area and later along the Mississippi, and the Suddlers were in the same area at the time. Some folks figured Dantalion was the brains of the outfit, but he slipped up and got caught, which was how he got his face on a wanted poster. Except the proof on him was mighty slim, and when he escaped jail, the lack of a long list of old crimes might’ve made folks give up the hunt a bit easier. He was a sly one. I reckon he shot Frank Chastain, then invented a new name and headed east. That’s when he did all his damage along the Natchez Trace.”

  Cole thought of his grandfather and his few long-distant memories of a fine old man.

  Sheriff Joe pointed to the poster of Bull. “This your Bill Suddler?”

  “That’s him,” Cole said. “I even heard Sam call him Bull.”

  “This wanted poster came from San Francisco. I reckon they hightailed it from back in Mississippi as far from the War Between the States as they could. Too busy robbing folks to stand up and fight for their country, bunch of cowards. This California poster goes back over ten years. Five years ago the Suddlers and some friends turned up and leased claims on your ranch. What are the chances they’d come back to the place where they committed an unsolved murder, one involving an important man? Unless they had a real good reason to come back . . .”

  “There was no talk of these men being around back in Grandfather Chastain’s day, is there?” Justin asked.

  Cole studied the much-younger picture of Suddler. He stared at the man who’d worked for him for years, who’d paid his lease faithfully and never acted like anything but a typical miner.

  “They seemed honest.” Cole’s jaw clenched. “Could they have used this as a base to rob stagecoaches, trains, or banks without you knowing there were desperados working the area?”

  “Maybe they’d gone straight.” Joe sounded doubtful. “Then Dantalion came here and dragged them into his plot against you.”

  “His plot,” Heath said. “That didn’t begin until the avalanche was sent down on Chance just a few months ago.”

  Walt nodded at the mines. “Well, they’ve been at this thing longer than a few months. Those tunnels took years of work to dig out.”

  “A long game.” Cole whispered the words. “We’ve said it many times. Whoever’s behind this has a worked-out plan. Who finds gold like they did and keeps digging, keeps working, and doesn’t spend it? I can see staying quiet for a while, but these men were at it for years.”

  “If they made a decent strike,” Heath said, “and they were all in on it, maybe it was easy to keep digging. So long as it was secret, they could hoard their wealth.”

  “Don’t forget, their plan isn’t just to get your gold,” Mel reminded them all. “Their plan is to get the whole mine in their names. And to do that, they need to claim the Cimarron Ranch.”

  The quiet, cool breeze was the only sound for a time.

  Finally, Justin said, “We still don’t know who’s behind it, but I think we at least know what’s going on. We’ve been thinking they want the ranch, and they do, but only so they can get the mine. This has been about gold all along.”

  “Comes down to greed most times,” Joe said and shook his head in disgust. “Take something from an honest man when they could earn their own.”

  “But who’s behind it?” Mel asked. “Dantalion had a plan to kill every one of you Bodens.”

  “Yep, Heath took the list off his body after he shot him.” The memory still stirred Cole’s anger.

  “They’ve attacked your parents and your women,” Mel went on. “Who’s responsible?”

  Cole lifted his enraged eyes to meet Mel’s. “We know we’re looking for someone pure evil. I need to get back to town and see if Ramone has figured out what’s in that note.”

  “That’s the other thing I wanted to tell you. Ramone’s gone.”

  “What?” Cole’s temper sounded ready to erupt.

  “His cabin door was standing wide open. I saw that and went right in.” The sheriff reached for his saddlebag again. “Is this the note you left him?”

  “That’s it.”

  The sheriff offered it to Cole.

  “And there’s no translation, no extra letter along with it?” Cole asked.

  The sheriff held a second slip of paper. “He left you this.”

  “Let’s see what that mangy coyote had to say before he ran away—again.” Cole snatched the paper and held it up.

  Silence stretched on as if Cole were reading a long letter. Only it was just a small bit of paper so there couldn’t be much.

  “What is it, Cole? Did he tell you something about the note?” Mel prompted.

  Cole crushed the paper into a ball and hurled it to the ground. “All it says is, ‘She’s coming.’”

  24

  The sheriff rode back toward Skull Gulch.

  The rest of them—Justin, Heath, Walt, Mel, and Cole—went down into the mines together. Walt led them a ways before stopping at a fork in the tunnel.

  “I want you two to go that way and . . .” Walt went on to give detailed directions that’d bring Justin and Heath up through Bill’s cave. He finished with “I haven’t searched Bill’s mine thoroughly, so have a care. Cole, Mel, and I will head for Sam’s claim. That’s the last one to be explored.”

  Justin and Heath headed off to where they’d been told while Cole and Mel followed Walt.

  Walt stopped when the tunnel dead-ended in a large cave, clearly well battered by a pickax.

  Mel asked, “What all else is down here? They’ve been digging gold out of this mountain for years now, haven’t they?”

  “Yep,” Cole answered. He stared at the wall before him as if ready to smash it open if they couldn’t find another way. “We found a pile of gold yesterday, but they may have already hauled away a lot more than that.”

  Walt stepped up to the wall. “Look at this rock. It’s been chiseled out and is really noticeable from this side, but remember what it looked like from the other side?”

  “It wasn’t near this obvious. The thin crack was barely noticeable.” Cole sure hadn’t seen it until it’d been pointed out to him.

  “Whoever did this was good, but they didn’t take the time to be careful from this side. Look down here—there’s a lever. You step on it and it swings open.” Walt pointed at the ceiling, where ropes and pulleys ran down to the lever. “Once you know what to look for, you can open these from both sides.” He used his boot to step down on the lever, and the stone door swung toward them. “I’ll bet we find a scattered pile of rocks that covers the lever on the other side.”

  Cole was impressed. He gestured through the door to Mel.

  As she walked into the cave, Cole saw the toe of her boot catch a thin wire. Something snapped overhead. A rock pelted him on the back. He looked up. The whole roof began crumbling.

  “Run, Mel!” He shoved her forward. “Climb! Get out! It’s a trap!”

  “Can you get the door, Chance? My hands are full.” Ronnie lifted the tray with food for Mrs. Finn.

  Though the woman was getting stronger, she was a long way from being ready to be left here alone. Since no one came to their house, Chance hoped this might be the doctor bringing word of a nurse who could be hired.

  He swung the door open to see Dr. Radcliffe.

  Then Chance’s eyes lowered to the knife at the doctor’s throat.

  “Step away from the door slowly. Get your hands where I can see ’em.” A man stood behind the doctor, glaring at Chance with cold, hungry eyes. Skinny, with filthy hands, a curve of black under every fingernail. But the knife at the doctor’s neck was as steady as the stare of a dead man.

  “I was a long time finding you, Boden. But I knew you hadn’t gone back. I’d have gotten word. And I knew this doctor was yours. So I waited and he led me right to you.” The outlaw edged Dr. Radcliffe forward, no sudden moves. The knife was pressed hard against the biggest vein in a ma
n’s throat. One slit, only one, and the doctor would bleed to death, no matter how fast they got him help.

  Chance didn’t have a gun ready. He was disgusted with himself. He’d let down his guard, and now he had a houseful of people who’d pay with their lives.

  He’d been praying hard his whole life and harder lately, what with the trouble back home and his slow-healing leg that kept him from getting back to the CR so he could help.

  That was nothing compared to how he prayed now.

  Ronnie . . . God, protect her.

  These outlaws had marked the whole family for death, and Chance knew this man intended to kill both him and Ronnie. He was too ruthless to leave witnesses.

  For her part, Ronnie was a cautious woman, always smart and savvy when it came to dealing with trouble. She’d grown up on the frontier and had the strength to survive. But right now she was tending a sick woman and counting on Chance to keep her safe.

  God, please don’t let me fail her. . . .

  “The whole cave’s coming down!” Cole and Walt charged toward the ladder. “Mel, up the ladder. Go! We’re right behind you.”

  More rocks rumbled down from the mine roof.

  A pace ahead of them, Mel grabbed at the ladder and rushed up. Cole stepped aside to force the older man to go first, but Walt rammed into him, pushing him forward. There was no time for a wrestling match, so Cole scrambled up the ladder, his fingers dodging Mel’s bootheels. The sides of the pit shuddered.

  Metal groaned as the ladder tore loose from a mooring just as Cole’s hand reached for the one above it.

  Cole clawed his way past the broken spot, looked down and saw the other side of the ladder pull away from the wall while bearing Walt’s full weight.

  Wrenching his knee around a ladder rung, Cole dropped down as far as he could reach and snagged the back of Walt’s shirt. Jerking Walt past the broken spot, Cole began dragging him up when a chunk of granite smashed into his left hand. A shout of pain ripped loose. The stone knocked his hand clean off the ladder.

  Walt’s strong hand slammed into his back and held him pinned against the wall until he could force his bleeding hand to catch hold again. The ladder gave way before his next step.

  Plummeting down, the ladder tore free at every place it was pegged to the stone. Cole bounced off the sides of the pit until he landed with a sickening thud.

  Cole looked up and saw the pit caving in, blocking the way out. The room behind collapsed. He found Walt beside him. The old man was moving. Cole helped Walt to a corner as more rocks rained down around them.

  Finally the worst of the falling rocks seemed to be over. They lay in pitch-darkness under thousands of tons of rock. It would take years to dig them out.

  If they ever could.

  A line of blood traced its way down Dr. Radcliffe’s neck as his captor kicked the door shut behind him. The gleaming knife never wavered.

  One second of distraction, one moment when he could attack, that was all Chance needed. Chance watched every flicker of the outlaw’s expression.

  Where was Ronnie? She knew someone had knocked on the door. The doctor would have come straight back to see his patient. He wouldn’t have slammed the door so hard.

  But one more fraction of an inch with that knife and Dr. Radcliffe’s life was over.

  A high-pitched scream sounded from the street, then something slammed hard against the door.

  The desperado twisted around to see if someone was behind him.

  Doc Radcliffe shoved at his captor’s arm and let his legs go out from under him.

  The knife was knocked free of his hand and went flying, but with lightning moves the outlaw’s empty hand swept down and drew his gun and smashed it over Doc Radcliffe’s head.

  The doctor collapsed, unconscious, as the outlaw brought his gun around.

  Cole struggled to his feet. “Walt, are you all right?”

  Suddenly, like the presence of God, there was light. Cole was a moment figuring it, but Walt wore one of those head lamps and he’d gotten it lit. As if that made the rest of his senses work, Cole heard the mountain rumbling around him. Was the cave-in not over? Would this tiny pocket they were trapped in get swallowed up?

  Walt nodded and stood slowly. He was enough shorter than Cole that he could stand up straight but just barely. He shined the light all around.

  “We don’t dare burn that for long,” Cole told him. “Sometimes these cave-ins can cut off all the air, and fire will burn what little there is.”

  Walt’s head lamp swept across a dark corner of the room that had been hidden behind the secret door.

  “Wait.” Cole grabbed Walt’s arm. “Go back. Point the light where you just had it.”

  Walt turned his head, then steadied the light on the bit of blackness in the corner. “Ain’t no rocks there.”

  “Maybe we can get through—get back to the tunnels and find another way out.”

  “Maybe,” Walt said, “but all that rumbling probably means a whole lot more than just this area collapsed.”

  Cole started for the corner, praying for all he was worth. Behind him, Walt said, “I wonder if your brothers got out.”

  Cole staggered to a stop and, for a second, couldn’t go on. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go on. What if he’d lost Justin? What if he’d lost Heath? What if he lost . . . “I pray Mel got out all right. The mine could have come down right on her head.”

  “Keep moving, Cole.” The razor-sharp tone of Walt’s voice, as if looking for someone to kill, cut at Cole’s ears. “Whoever did this is playing a long game—that’s what you said, right? Well, they’d better start huntin’ for a hole.” Walt’s intentions were clear as day. He was going after them. And if Mel was harmed in any way, then even the deepest of holes wouldn’t save them.

  Cole turned back to have the light burn directly into his eyes. “A mighty long game.”

  “Way I see it, they just lined things up so all the menfolk are trapped, maybe dead. Your folks are long gone. That leaves your women back at the CR with few men to protect them.” He paused and let out a sigh. “Keep moving. We’ve got a sight more to do than just get ourselves out of this pit of death.”

  Chance ducked low, his leg nearly useless from the tearing pain. He hurled himself at the outlaw.

  The gun fired, but the bullet passed over Chance’s stretched-out body. Chance tackled the man and sent him slamming back into the closed door.

  The gun was still in the outlaw’s hand. Chance grappled with him and caught his wrist, shoving with all his strength to point the gun away. It fired and fired again into the ceiling.

  Chance plowed a fist into the man’s belly, then with a wiry twist the outlaw rolled and was on top of Chance. The gun came down. Chance still held on to his wrist. That grip was the difference between life and death.

  Chance rammed an iron fist into the man’s face, then punched his stomach again. But weakened by his long recovery, Chance felt himself losing the battle as the gun lowered, inching down to aim right at Chance’s head.

  Something struck the outlaw’s side and knocked him away. The gun went flying. The man landed near where his knife lay. He quickly came back up with the knife in his hand.

  Stones poured down around Mel’s head, the entrance collapsing to nothing in front of her. She dived for the light, landed on her shoulder, and tumbled out onto the ground.

  As she whirled back to find Cole and Uncle Walt, grit and gravel blasted out and knocked her onto her backside. The entrance vanished under tons of crushing rock.

  “Cole!” Her scream turned into a choke as she swallowed a lungful of dust and dirt. “Uncle Walt!” She coughed and gagged.

  Soon men raced to her side and took her away. “Cole’s in there. And Uncle Walt. They didn’t make it out. . . .”

  “The whole mountain collapsed!” someone shouted.

  She swiped at the grit in her eyes and saw entrance after entrance puffing with the same cloud of dust right in front of her.

>   All those men, every one of them, trapped, maybe dead.

  She thought of the tunnels, and her eyes went from mine to mine. If even one of those specially dug pits had stayed open . . . and that was when she realized what she was seeing.

  “You’re dead, Boden. Your wife and family, too. We’re not giving up until all of you are finished.” The outlaw laughed as he charged, his knife drawn.

  “Chance!” Ronnie swung her arm forward.

  A poker from the fireplace sailed through the air straight toward him. He caught it, pulled back, and swung it at the outlaw. It hit the man in the shoulder, causing him to stagger backward. A second later, he’d regained his footing and was closing the last remaining distance between them. He raised the knife and brought it down straight for Chance’s heart.

  Chance grabbed the poker, wielding it like a sword, and parried the knife. The man ducked, reaching for the poker while lunging with the knife. Chance threw himself sideways, swinging wildly at the attacker.

  Expecting the man to charge again, instead he stumbled backward. Chance used the opportunity to dive at the man’s knife hand. As they collided, he saw Finn clinging to the outlaw’s legs. The boy rolled aside, and Chance realized he’d tackled the man, disrupting the attack.

  Gunfire echoed in the room. Chance spun around to face the new threat. There was no guarantee that the man was alone. Chance’s leg threatened to give out, but he fought through the pain and tightened his grip on the poker . . . and met Ronnie’s eyes behind the muzzle of a smoking pistol aimed at the ceiling.

  “That was a warning shot.” Her voice sounded furious, deadly. “The next bullet is aimed straight for your heart.”

  The wrench of pure love Chance felt at that moment almost brought him to his knees. Or maybe the pain in his leg did, but either way he’d never been so proud to be married to this woman.