The Irish Devil

by Diane Whiteside

  “And don’t use a gun. The sound alone could bring down the roof.”

  Lowell grimaced and holstered his revolver. “Yes, sir.”

  William clapped him on the arm, then followed McBride, with Lindsay a short step behind him, and then a dozen miners. The tunnel was level and almost straight here, with plank flooring underneath. The plank walls occasionally gave way to bare rock.

  “Any suggestions for me?” Lindsay asked quietly. His rifle was now under his duster.

  William glanced back at him, surprised.

  Lindsay shrugged. “You’re the local, not me. I’ll learn from anyone.”

  “Ever been in a silver mine before?”

  “Nope.”

  “The wooden timbers are called square sets. Six feet long, fourteen inches wide, mortise and tenon joints at both ends. Set them together and you have a fairly stable honeycomb to hold back the rock. Plank flooring underneath if there’s another level below.”

  “What if it’s not strong enough?” Lindsay questioned, quickly spotting the weakness.

  “See the plank walls? That’s where the rock is too unstable to be restrained by a single beam.”

  Lindsay grunted. “Most of the walls here are planks.”

  “Very unstable rock around here, especially when water’s involved.”

  “Any advice?”

  “Hear the rats? Some call them a miner’s best friend because they hear the ground moving first. You hear them run, you run, too, as if the devil’s at your heels.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” Lindsay gave him a fast salute.

  William’s mouth quirked as he returned the gesture.

  They moved cautiously through the tunnel for almost half an hour without encountering anyone else. The weight of the rock above seemed to press down on William, but he shook off the fancy.

  Small streams and waterfalls flowed out of the walls in some places, raising William’s hackles. Water could make rock slide like a child’s sled on a snowy hill.

  He stopped cold when they reached one chamber, staring at the ceiling. Wood creaked close by and small red eyes gleamed from the darkness. A foot-wide stream of water ran across the rocky floor.

  McBride chuckled humorlessly when he followed William’s eyes. “Aye, this is the new digging. You can tell by how few timbers that greedy bastard lets us use. Tregarron oversaw the work where we entered and it’ll stand ’til Gabriel blows his horn. But this shoring?” He spat. The other miners murmured agreement.

  William nodded. He’d never seen such light shoring to support a chamber this large. “Are we close to that abandoned tunnel?”

  “That way, maybe twenty feet.” He nodded toward an unsupported stretch of tunnel, clumsily hacked from the living rock. “Looks like someone’s been down here in the last day or so, digging it out. Inexperienced, too, since they paid no heed to the lode.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  Suddenly a dozen rats dashed between their feet and raced back down the tunnel toward the Oriental.

  “Cave-in,” said McBride softly. Miners shuffled their feet but stayed.

  William snatched the lamp out of the man’s hand. “You head back. I’ll go on.”

  “Sure?”

  Another rush of rats went past them. Miners started fading back toward the tunnel’s stronger section.

  “Run, boyo!”

  “May all the saints be with you, Donovan!” And McBride left, running toward safety.

  Carrying the single lamp, William and Lindsay sprinted toward the unsupported tunnel like men possessed.

  Rock creaked and groaned. Water spilled out of the ceiling around them. Something snapped. A boulder rolled free from the wall, followed by another and another.

  With a roar, the chamber collapsed on itself. Rocks tumbled from the ceiling behind William and Lindsay, spurring them to greater speed.

  The cave-in stopped as suddenly as it had started. A small rock rolled into the tunnel and the dust settled sullenly, quickly turning into mud.

  William turned a corner and slowed to a halt. He leaned against the wall, panting for breath. Lindsay followed his example in the turned house, where the tunnel made a sudden change in direction.

  William said a silent prayer for the miners and crossed himself.

  “Can we get back through there?” Lindsay asked, nodding toward the chamber behind them.

  William shrugged and checked the tin of matches in his pocket. Still dry, so they’d have light as long as the lamp’s oil lasted. “Maybe. It was a small cave-in, as they go. So if the rock didn’t fill the chamber, you could reach the main tunnel.”

  “Have long have you known mines?”

  “Sixteen years, since I came to California in ’55.”

  Lindsay’s eyes narrowed. “One of the vigilantes?”

  “I helped clean up San Francisco, yes. More to the point, I helped Hearst haul the first load of silver ore out of the Comstock and over the Sierras to be assayed.”

  Lindsay grunted but asked nothing more.

  The tunnel here was narrower and taller than an average mine tunnel, comfortable for a man to walk in but not a good match for square sets. William frowned and looked at the wall more closely. He ran his fingers along its face and then rubbed them together, testing the rock’s consistency.

  “What is it?”

  “The tunnel before the turn was cut very recently, say, within the last week. But this side is much older, maybe ten years old, and it avoids the muck.”

  “Muck?”

  William chuckled. “Silver ore can be hard rock or soft, in almost any color. It often appears as a clay that gums up your tools. We had worse names than muck for it, in the Sierras.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “There was a German named Mueller out here before the war, prospecting for gold. He was caught in a flash flood and drowned. But nobody ever found his camp.”

  “And?” Lindsay prompted.

  “Suspicion was Mueller camped in a cave below ground, where it’s cooler. This tunnel avoids the silver ore, like the blue muck here, so it might be his. Heard he was about my height, so this would be a comfortable tunnel for him.”

  “Viola could be in the cave.”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Just remember—the more muck you see, the more unstable the rock is.” William made one final test of the old family dirk up his sleeve.

  “Bloody hell,” Lindsay said with feeling, as he checked his own Bowie knife.

  “Exactly.”

  Then the two men set off down the tunnel, moving as quietly as possible.

  The tunnel’s walls and floor were very uneven, and it made frequent turns. Pockets sometimes opened on either side, while the ceiling would occasionally sweep up over their heads.

  Echoes of a distant gunshot floated down the tunnel toward them. The two men froze and listened intently.

  No further sound came.

  The two men glanced at each other but there was no need to say anything. They moved ahead more quickly after that.

  Rats faded away before them, moving leisurely and without fear.

  William stopped abruptly at a different sound coming from ahead. A man shouting, and what seemed to be a woman’s softer voice. A dim glow lit the tunnel.

  “Viola,” Lindsay whispered.

  “And Lennox,” William agreed, and doused the lamp. He freed his crucifix, kissed it, then tucked it back inside his shirt.

  They traveled faster, while trying to stay as quiet as possible.

  The wall opened up to the left, under William’s fingers, and he followed it instinctively. The voices were stronger now. A breeze touched his face and shoulders, then a rush of air from above.

  He flung himself forward just as a man dropped on him from a ledge. A knife sliced his jacket and skimmed his ribs. He twisted aside, driving back with his elbow. A grunt answered him, and his attacker moved away slightly before rushing him again.

  He me
t the blow with his own knife, guided only by sound and instinct. It was a brutal, vicious fight there in the bowels of the earth.

  Grunts and thuds came from behind them, then a hiss of pain. Lindsay must be fighting the other O’Flaherty.

  William drove a knee into his opponent’s belly. The man gasped and fled, his silhouette soon clear against the light.

  Conall O’Flaherty.

  William sprang for him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Viola glared stonily back at Lennox. William would come for her. Somehow, someway, he’d keep his word. The trickle had become a waterfall as it rushed down the wall between Lennox and Mueller’s camp. The torrent raced across the floor to vanish in what was now a whirlpool, only a yard away from her feet. The water’s noise drowned out any trace of the world beyond, including whatever the O’Flahertys might be doing.

  Mueller’s stool tilted and fell over, then was swept away. His sleeping roll began to slide. Water showered from the ceiling near the camp.

  “So, Mrs. Ross, are you going to marry me or am I going to kill you?” Lennox growled, and aimed his gun at her.

  “Fire that Colt again and you’ll bring the roof down on both of us,” Viola pointed out, keeping her chin high. She had a finger under the rope now. If she could make it slip down to the narrow part of her wrists, she should be able to free herself.

  She arched her back slightly and pressed her elbows closer together to encourage the rope’s movement. It would be easier if she could hunch her shoulders, but that was risky with Lennox watching her.

  Suddenly a knot of fighting men tumbled into the cavern from the tunnel beyond. Their struggle carried them to the torrent’s brink.

  Lennox sprang to his feet, spewing a long stream of vicious curses.

  “William!” Viola shouted gladly and tried to rise.

  William Donovan was fighting an O’Flaherty.

  William had come for her, as he had promised.

  Viola’s heart soared. She rolled her shoulders and coaxed the stubborn ropes. If she could just break free, she could hit Lennox with a rock.

  She didn’t care whether she bashed him over the head with one or simply threw it at him. If she could play fetch with Mrs. Smith’s guard dog, she’d kept enough of her childhood games to be effective.

  Mueller’s sleeping roll disappeared into the whirlpool. The muddy water ripped a boulder out of the wall and swallowed it in an instant. Water poured from the ceiling closer and closer to Lennox.

  The whirlpool’s edge brushed Viola’s boot. She ignored it as she finally untied the first knot.

  The two fighters broke free for a moment, with O’Flaherty on the torrent’s edge. William was magnificent, all strong masculinity with his heaving chest and a long knife in his hand. His jacket’s waist was stained a darker shade, but he didn’t seem to be slowed by any injury.

  Lennox’s Colt remained steady on William. He cast an uneasy eye at the ceiling, but didn’t fire.

  “You’re Donovan’s brat, from County Cork, aren’t you?” O’Flaherty spat, a heavy knife in his hand. “I remember those sniveling women and burning your pitiful cottage.”

  Viola hissed as she worked the ropes, pulling her feet back from the whirlpool. She couldn’t take time now to move away from the water. O’Flaherty must be the blackguard who’d sent William’s mother and family into the storm. She’d gut him herself if she had the chance.

  The first loop slipped over her hands.

  “And you’ll die here for that, gombeen man,” William spat.

  O’Flaherty’s face went white as he growled. The two men surged together like enraged bears.

  “Damn you, O’Flaherty, kill him now!” Lennox screamed.

  The ropes fell free from her wrists just as water lapped around her boots. Viola came to her feet and grabbed the nearest piece of silver ore that would fit her hand. A larger chunk crashed down where she’d been sitting and she moved closer to Mueller’s camp.

  The two fighters strained against each other.

  Suddenly O’Flaherty stiffened.

  “For my brother, who never drew breath,” William spat as his knife hand twisted and shoved.

  Shock, then comprehension, slid over O’Flaherty’s face.

  William wrenched his knife free and spun toward Lennox.

  O’Flaherty crumpled to the ground and lay still, eyes staring vacantly at Lennox. The water swirled around his head and shoulders, then the corpse began to slide toward the whirlpool.

  “You’ll die for this, Donovan,” Lennox roared.

  Just then, another big man, bloody and filthy with a bandaged head, charged into the cavern from the tunnel and faced Lennox. His hair was blond where the water had washed some of the mud away, and he looked somehow familiar. He chuckled mirthlessly. “Remember me, Lennox? Or did you think you stopped me in Santa Fe?”

  Lennox froze, eyes shifting uneasily between the two big men. “Are you going to let him attack me, Donovan? Only I can give you membership in the Pericles Club.”

  “Go to hell, gobshite,” William snarled, and stepped forward. The newcomer chuckled, his big knife gleaming with blood, and did likewise.

  Lennox’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  Viola threw her rock. It struck Lennox’s shoulder just as he fired and sent him staggering into the waterfall behind him.

  The gunshot was deafening in the small space. Echoes pounded the air, almost drowning out the water’s noise.

  For a moment, everyone stood still.

  Then a chunk of silver ore crashed down on Lennox. He screamed and threw up his hands to protect himself. He caught a chunk of blue rock in both hands, straining to keep it away. Suddenly his wounded hand failed and the boulder crashed down on his head.

  “No!” Lennox shrieked, and crumpled to the floor. Another chunk and another, then a rain of silver ore covered his body. A candle sputtered briefly as it fell into the water, then went out.

  “Viola!” William shoved his knife up his sleeve, then leaped the flood between them. He snatched her up in his arms and turned toward the tunnel that had brought him.

  Viola clung to his shoulders as he cradled her in his arms, loving the feel of his strength and life around her.

  A boulder rocked beside William, then slowly rolled toward the whirlpool, accompanied by two smaller brethren. Thunder called from the gap, where a candle had once flickered, as water began to rush in. A horde of rats rushed toward the new opening, clearly the shortest route to safety.

  Viola’s eyes met William’s in perfect comprehension. Mueller’s exit was reopening.

  “Come with us!” William shouted.

  Still carrying her, William followed the rats. Viola glanced over his shoulder and saw the other man charging after them, barely dodging the rocks falling all around him.

  William surged up the incline and Viola gasped when he slipped in the running water. Boulders and rocks crumbled away on either side to roll into the cavern below. The noise of falling rock and thunder was deafening.

  “I love you, William,” Viola shouted into his ear.

  He froze for a moment, then continued his fight to reach the outside. “Love you too, Viola,” he panted. “If anything happens, I’ll always love only you.”

  She gulped and kissed his shoulder in mute agreement. God would not be so cruel as to part them now.

  As if their words were a passport, William’s head and shoulders broke into the open. Moments later, he was running down the ridgeline toward Rio Piedras, dodging rocks and cactus as rain poured from the sky and lightning sparked the mountaintops.

  The stranger caught up to them within a few steps. “Viola,” he panted. “Thank God you’re alive.”

  “Hal?” She stared in disbelief, then began to grin. The big nose, the pale blond hair, the blue eyes so like hers. It was her beloved brother.

  “Dear brother, I’m so glad to see you again.” She smiled at him but made no effort to leave William’s arms. Staying with h
im was much more important than greeting even a long-lost sibling.

  She looked back to see the ground shudder and heave. A shallow depression appeared where the cavern had once been.

  “You could set me down,” she suggested to William a few steps farther.

  “Hell no. Sweet Jesus, Viola, when I saw Lennox holding a gun on you…” He shuddered. “Just let me hold you for a while longer so I can believe you’re alive.”

  Viola caressed his face reassuringly. “I’m fine, darling. He didn’t hurt me.”

  He kissed her fingertips as he slowed to a more measured pace.

  The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Wisps of steam rose up from the ground and their clothing as they began to dry. The air held the sweet fragrance of freshly washed greenery.

  William finally set her down as they entered Rio Piedras at the upper end of Main Street. They walked into town hand in hand, with Hal on her other side.

  Teamsters and miners rushed up to meet them. Townsfolk applauded. Lily Mae and Mrs. Smith, backed by her girls, cheered.

  “Thank God you’re safe,” Lowell blurted.

  “Ah, didn’t I tell you, boyo, that St. Bridget looks after all Irish boys?” McBride chortled.

  “Or the devil does,” Lowell retorted, and everyone laughed.

  Viola leaned against William and laughed with the rest of them.

  “What happened?” Sally asked as she pushed through the crowd.

  “Cave-in took out Mueller’s old camp and Lennox, too. We escaped through the old exit, which reopened in the flash flood,” William answered briefly, his eyes never leaving Viola.

  Her clothes were muddy and damp and torn. Her hair hung in bedraggled tendrils around her face. But she’d never felt more beautiful in her life than when William grinned down at her.

  She caught his face in her hands. “Mr. Donovan, will you marry me?”

  He stared at her, his mouth open. Didn’t he want to be with her?

  Silence spread across the crowd. Even Sally was quiet as she strained to listen.

  Viola started to stammer, “Of course, if there’s somebody else…”

  “Hell yes, I’ll marry you!” William roared. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her breathless.