Mr. Clinton conceded.
Ginny hid her limp as she walked by Uncle Zak.
The opening of the mine let forth a dank odor. Water evaporation made little clouds of condensation as cold cave air hit hot sun. Inside, a set of rails sat on a rock bottom with a variety of pickaxes and sledge hammers scattered about. The solitary mining cart was a rattling affair harnessed to an even less dependable looking mule.
She hopped into the backseat. Uncle Zak got in front, and Cal took the mule’s reins and climbed in beside Uncle Zak.
As the cart drew away from the opening, darkness closed in around them. Only the light of a single oil lamp suspended from a pole above the mule’s harness lit the way. One main shaft rose up, but the path continued straight into the mountain.
Uncle Zak turned to Cal. “What exactly are we looking for?”
“Unexpected mine shafts, anything not on the map. Places—” Cal dropped his voice as if he didn’t want her to hear. Unfortunately for him, she had excellent hearing. “gain access to the silver ore.”
Propping herself up in a squat, she peered over Cal’s shoulder at the map spread on his lap. “What about there?” She pointed to the left. A narrow path twisted away from the main entrance, shrouded by a darkness unpierced by mining lanterns.
“I doubt outlaws would have their own set of tracks. Maybe a hole in the roof.” Cal peered upward.
“What if these are stylish outlaws? And why would outlaws hide out in a mine anyway? Is there something going on?” She swung her bonnet by its strings.
“Shh,” Uncle Zak and Cal said at the same time.
“We’ll talk about it later.” Uncle Zak peered ahead.
A sigh crossed her lips. Why did no one ever tell her anything? “At least check the path.”
Cal tugged the mule to the left. The path sloped slightly. Rock jutted out overhead, squeezing in on the cart. She leaned in, away from stones wet with moisture.
“See anything?” Uncle Zak asked.
Cal pulled the mule to a halt and handed Uncle Zak the lantern. Uncle Zak stood on the seat of the cart and held the lantern high.
From behind, a loose rock tumbled down the path. Uncle Zak grabbed for his gun, and then everything exploded into light.
The mule lurched forward. Shards hit Ginny’s face and hands. Then eerie stillness enshrouded them in the tomb.
Through the blackness, a hand touched her. “Are you hurt?” Cal’s voice sounded strangely comforting. After all, humans, no matter how obnoxious, were better than sinister cave monsters.
Resisting the urge to cling to his hand, she gripped the wood of her seat. “Where’s Uncle Zak?”
“Back here.” Uncle Zak groaned.
She jumped out of the cart and catapulted into a rock. “Ouch!” She pressed back against the cart. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and get a light.”
“Lighting the darkness, what I do best.” Cal’s voice held a hint of a smile.
The faint smell of tinder and light flamed up behind the greasy panels of the mining lantern. Cal moved over to Uncle Zak, who lay where the mule had thrown him. Uncle Zak’s leg twisted up beneath him at an awkward angle.
Extending the lamp to her, Cal began to roll up Uncle Zak’s pant leg. “If blood bothers you, you’ll want to turn away.”
She rolled her eyes. “Just because blood strays three inches outside of its proper limits is no reason to have a conniption.”
Cal probed Uncle Zak’s leg. “No broken bones, sir, just some mangled muscles.”
Uncle Zak’s face contorted. “For this much pain, I at least deserve a broken bone.”
She glanced toward the shaft’s entrance, but saw only impenetrable darkness and a roof-high mound of rock where the entrance to the passage should have stood. They were trapped!
Her heart pounded. “What happened to the entrance?”
Uncle Zak looked grave. “This was no accident.”
She stared at him. “Dynamite? But who would have access to the mine and want to hurt us?”
Uncle Zak didn’t answer.
Standing up, Cal wiped his forehead. “The better question is, how do we get out of here? Perhaps there’s an exit on the other side.”
“Through the mountain?” Her voice radiated skepticism. She surveyed the sloping floor.
Cal reached for her lantern. “I’ll check it out.”
She waited thirty seconds after releasing the lantern, her high-heeled boots tapping the rock face. “Uncle Zak, do you want me to stay with you, or is it all right if—”
He smiled then hollered. “Cal, wait up for Ginny.”
Uneven rocks tripped her stride as she hurried forward. Only several hundred yards down the path, water appeared. A huge pool of the dark substance completely closed off the path. Cal stared at the unpromising end to the trail.
“We could try to swim out underneath it.” She tugged at her dress to make her wrinkled petticoats lie flatter.
“How far can you swim in the dark without air?”
Her lips puckered. “A hundred feet maybe. You?”
He coughed. “I don’t really swim.”
After peering deeper into the wet darkness, she shrugged. “It looks like it only goes down anyway.”
He leaned back against the rocks that surrounded them. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the ceiling.
“Is that light?” She pointed in the direction of his gaze where a narrow opening went up.
His forehead wrinkled.
“Blow out the lantern so I can see.”
“No. What if it doesn’t light again?”
“Let me climb up on your shoulders then.” She leaned down to make sure her bootlaces knotted tightly.
“Can you do that?”
“Sure.” She laid hold of his hand and froze. She hadn’t expected it to feel quite like that—all manly in a Texas-cattle-rancher type of way. No matter. “Now give me a boost.” The opening rose high above her head, almost outside the glow of the lantern.
He cupped her foot and she took hold of his shoulder with both hands. It was a strong shoulder, firm even through a buckskin vest. Her skirt twisted around her legs as she scooted up to kneel on his shoulders. One hand on his head, she pressed down against his hair. Almost there.
He held her ankles steady as she reached for the rocky surface above. Her fingers wrapped around a stone lip and she squeezed her eyes shut as she forced herself up through the claustrophobic opening. Arms burning, she wrestled her way up to a foothold. Up above, dark rock closed tighter. Her body blocked all but a sliver of light from the lantern below. She moved her foot up, one toehold closer to…wherever this led.
“How is it coming?” Cal called from below.
Up ahead, the rocks narrowed even further. “Yes.” Her voice trembled a mite as she wedged her way up further.
“You’re doing great, Gina. Just a few more feet.”
Had he just called her Gina? Nobody called her Gina. “You can’t know it’s only a few feet,” she shouted back.
“It’s straight down to get out. You won’t get stuck.”
His voice felt reassuring, warm like the slick rocks weren’t. Where had all this water come from anyway? This was Colorado, not a swamp. Her head bumped something soft. Dirt!
Lunging forward, she clawed the ground above with both hands. As her fingers closed around grass, her boot slipped from its narrow foothold. She felt herself falling and screamed. She grabbed at rock on either side of the narrow tunnel. Fingers stiff from fear missed each handhold as her fingernails broke. Down through the narrow tunnel, she fell toward hard rock—
And landed in Cal’s arms. His grasp felt strong, and sort of comforting. He smelled nice, a mixture of hardwood and horses.
From the light of the lantern, she could see his eyes.
He looked at her. “In my arms twice in one day?”
“An unfortunate accident.” She squeezed back. The movement only brought her closer to him.
He touched her hand. “Two unfortunate accidents.”
“Never to be repeated.”
“Of course.” He tightened his arms around her. His gaze followed her eyes ever so slightly back, then forth.
Six dark inches stood between them with only a sliver of light from above and the faint glow of lantern light. The curve of the mine shaft completely blocked any view of Uncle Zak.
She sucked in breath. She could feel his chest move as he breathed. His mouth was so close. If she leaned forward a hair, her lips would touch his. Could he kiss as well as he could sit a horse? It might be interesting to find out.
What sheriff worthy of his badge would do that? She hopped out of his arms.
A sigh escaped her lips as she landed on the leg the horse had mutilated earlier. Ugh. “There’s a way out up there. Give me your rope and another boost up. I’ll lower it down for you and Uncle Zak.”
He frowned. “I should do it.”
“And who’s going to boost you up—me?”
He reached up to the rock overhead, but his hands fell short. “I could get the cart.”
“It’s not tall enough, and time is of the essence.”
“Why? We’re not going to starve in an hour.”
She shrugged. “Boost me up.”
“Will you be able to manage the rope? I’d wager you’re lighter than me by half.”
She gave him the airy glance he deserved. “I’ll enlist a helpful tree.”
“All right.” As he handed her back up toward the opening, he said, “I understand why your uncle depends on you.”
“Flattery? I didn’t know Texans indulged in that.” She gripped the rock face.
“No, I mean it. You’re an asset to the operation.”
Both feet on Cal’s shoulders, hands spread on the rocks above, she looked down. The tilt of Cal’s shoulders looked quite rugged from an aerial view. If he weren’t a criminal, he might actually have made a decent sheriff. She hardened her heart.
“Thank you.” She tucked the rope tighter around her shoulder.
The climb back up the shaft was, if possible, narrower and darker, but at least she knew it led to sunshine.
This time she was careful to keep her foothold as she inched out into the grass above. Glorious sunshine surrounded her. Is this how prisoners felt escaping jail? No time for rejoicing. Not many trees, but she found a runt of a pine to tie the rope’s end to.
Leaning over the edge of the hole, she braced both feet and tightened her hands on the rope as she let the other end slither down the opening. “Ready,” she called down.
“Just helping your uncle.” Cal’s voice sounded unearthly snaking up like that from a hole in the ground. A minute later, she felt the weight of Cal’s body on the rope. Even her arms turned red as she strained to hold the sliver of hemp steady. Who knew how strong that runty tree was anyway?
Sandy-brown hair emerged from the hole, and then Cal’s hands, as he pulled himself up out of the ground below. Hoisting himself out of the hole, he rolled to his stomach to call down the opening. “Is the rope secure, Sheriff?”
“Give me a minute.” Uncle Zak’s voice trickled up from the ground below.
She let go of the rope and collapsed on the grass. Running her hand over escaped hair tendrils, she glanced down at herself.
Grass and dirt completely obscured the red check of her dress, and rips ran up and down both sleeves, probably from her earlier fall. She must look a sight. Sucking in air to feed her rapidly beating heart, she pondered Cal’s back.
Dirt and rock dust caked his shirt, and grass stains lent a Coloradan feel to his leather vest. She took another breath of mountain air. “You look better in buckskin than pinstripes.”
Turning away from the shaft, he flashed her a smile. “You look good in anything—even tattered calico.”
She lifted her chin. “I scarcely think you’re an expert on the matter.”
“I could become one…”
Heat flushed her cheek, but she forced it down. “It wouldn’t be worth your while.”
He brushed his hands off on his trousers. “Why?”
“Um.” She made a spluttering noise and eyed him. Was he flirting with her?
He raised one eyebrow, awaiting an answer.
“I…don’t know.”
“Will you go to the Fourth of July picnic with me?” His blue eyes still fixed on her.
Her mouth tightened into a line. She had made a fine fool of herself stuttering that way. “It would be unprofessional.”
“You’ll stand on my shoulders but not dance with me?”
“Ready,” Uncle Zak called up from the shaft below.
She couldn’t exactly cross her arms while scrambling to lay hold of the rope, but she tried. “Climbing onto your shoulders to escape a silver mine cave-in happens to fall into my job description.”
He rolled up his sleeves, took hold of the rope, and, setting his feet apart, hauled hand-over-hand with easy grace. “What if I convinced your uncle to make the Fourth of July picnic a professional sheriff event?” He shifted his gaze to her and winked.
“You wouldn’t!” She could just see Uncle Zak making such an outing part of her job description.
He leaned forward into the rope as the limp weight of Uncle Zak’s body counterbalanced. Hands still on the rope, he stopped a minute to breathe. “If I did, would you enjoy my company?”
Would she? Unfortunately, she just might. What had become of her faculties? Was this how people fell under the influence of swindlers? “Certain you even want to go? People might be talking about you and what happened at Mrs. Clinton’s house.”
Grunting, he pulled up another arms’ length of rope. “Surely, you don’t believe those temperance ladies’ lies?”
She shrugged. He nearly dropped the rope. “I was not drunk!”
Hemp fibers slipped through his loose hands and Ginny felt the whole weight of Uncle Zak’s body tug against her arms. A series of bumps and crashes came from below.
“Careful!” Uncle Zak called up.
“Sorry.” Cal tightened his hold on the rope.
“How do you explain the staggering and throwing up behind the bushes? By the way, Mrs. Clinton’s goldenrods will never be the same.” Guilt pricked her, but if she didn’t harry him this way he might stay and take on the position of sheriff. She’d never forgive herself if she let him steal the good people of Gilman’s hard earned savings and throw the town into ruin.
His face went red. “I was poisoned. Probably by Mrs. Clinton just to further her little temperance league. Once I find a way to pin it on her, Silas will have company in the town jail.”
Ginny scrunched her nose. Slipping a headache tonic into food did not qualify one as a criminal. Embezzling did. “Mrs. Clinton is too proper to poison you.”
“What about Silas? He never shared any case evidence after he invited me to the saloon.” Cal chewed his lip as he hauled up the rope. “Perhaps he’s plotting with the—”
She felt blood drain from her face as Cal cut his words off. She couldn’t let Silas get in trouble for what she’d told him to do. “Silas isn’t smart enough to plan a silver mine—whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“Which makes him the perfect assistant.” Cal’s voice lacked emotion. “But his actions still carry a ten-year sentence. Conspiracy is a—”
“No!”
“What?” He continued tugging the rope up with vigor.
She dropped her end of the rope. Cal, with his rolled up sleeves and unseemly display of masculine muscle and sweat, made the hauling processing look annoyingly easy anyway. “It was not Silas.”
Keeping his gaze on the hole, Cal used his most efficient tone. “Who criminals corrupt to their ways is often surprising.”
Her breathing came faster. Silas sent away to a federal penitentiary without apple pie slices or any of Uncle Zak’s lectures. Silas, alone and friendless. “If criminals really are so deceitful, then you shouldn’t hold a mistake aga
inst a simple man like Silas—the kindliest drunk a town ever had.”
“Poisoning a law official is no light crime.”
She wanted to hit him—hard. “Russell’s Tonic is not poison!”
Cal froze. “Russell’s Tonic?”
Shrugging, she hopped up on the nearest boulder. Cal could haul Uncle Zak the whole way himself if he had that attitude.
“Just a minute, Miss Thompson.” Looping the extra rope around the runty tree, he lunged after her. “Are you telling me you laced my food that night?”
She scratched her nose. Guilt slithered up her body as her gaze fell. “I only wanted to help your headache.”
“Why, you low-down, double-crossing, backstabbing skunk.”
“Now that’s no way to speak to an innocent young lady.” Uncle Zak emerged from the earth as he pulled himself up out of the ground.
“Innocent!” Cal exploded. He glared at Ginny, the boulder, and her tattered calico. “You’re about as innocent as a snake. I retract my Fourth of July invitation, too.”
“Mr. Westwood!” Uncle Zak raised his voice.
The nice thing about Cal yelling was that it made her guilt recede considerably. She swung off her boulder. “Now do you believe me that he’s the embezzling deputy from Moobeetie the newspaper told about?
Uncle Zak frowned and looked at Cal.
Cal’s chest heaved with a deep breath as he stared at the boulder in front. Then, he brought his gaze up, rolled down his shirtsleeves, and brushed the dirt off himself. “You’re absolutely right, Sheriff. I apologize, Miss Thompson. This has been a difficult afternoon for all of us.”
Uncle Zak cracked his dust-chapped lips. “That’s better. Just remember a good lawman doesn’t let danger break his sense of civility. But no honey, he’s not that deputy. He’s not even really from Moobeetie.”
Ginny swung around. “You’re not from Moobeetie?”
Cal let out a groan, his grimace fit to make the earth open up. “No, I just saw the name in your newspaper. Have you no faith in your uncle’s ability to check references?”
Jaw hard, Ginny pressed her thumbs down against the double-stitched princess seams by her waist. “Why lie?”
“I need my privacy.” Cal brought his broad shoulders up in a shrug, as nonchalant as if he hadn’t been mere seconds away from rotting in jail after she arrested him for his crimes.
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