A DEAD RED MIRACLE: #5 in the Dead Red Mystery Series (6 page)

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Chapter Eight:

"What time is it?" I asked.

"I'm guessing about ten minutes past the last time you asked and no, I won't turn on the flashlight so I can look again; it'll just wear down the batteries."

"Do you think they know we're in here?"

"'Course they do. Caleb and probably half of Wishbone―hell, just my luck―maybe all of Wishbone. I'll bet there're even some old timers out there, showing them how to dig." He sighed. "Guess my secret was never meant to last."

"Miners? They'd have to be really old, wouldn't they?"

"The Lavender mine closed in the 1970's and some of the retirees are still docents for the mine tour. They dress you up in yellow slickers and hardhats and you get to ride in the mine cars. We should do it sometime."

"If we ever get out of this mine, I'll consider it."

"Ah, don't be so negative," my dad said, hugging me a little closer.

"This from the man who isn't happy unless he has something to complain about. The weather or the number of house guests we had for my wedding."

"And your favorite attitude should be gratitude, missy," There was no light to see his expression, but his voice was only slightly defensive.

"Do you ever think about what you would've done for a living if you hadn't become an aero-ag pilot?"

"I dunno. It's a rare thing for a man to get paid for doing what he loves and I loved flying. I made some pretty good money, too. I was near to busting my buttons when I finally had the cash to pay off the mortgage on the ranch."

"But did you ever feel as if you had lost out on some unfulfilled destiny having to raise kids as a widower?"

He was quiet for a moment. "I used to think the ranch, my planes, trucks, even my business reputation were what defined me as a man. I thought of it as my investment, something I had a stake in that I could leave to my children. Then I had that heart attack and my life took a turn."

"Like what?"

"Like that my real investment was my family, my children. Oh, I know I was impatient with your brother, annoyed that he would rather be a set designer in San Francisco than fly airplanes, but I got over that and before he died, didn't I? And I haven't done such a bad job of raising you, have I?"

I sniffed back my tears and said, "Are you saying all this stuff because you think we won't get out of here alive?"

"Don't be silly. Of course we'll get out of here."

"But just in case, you're coming clean
now
?"

"Okay, okay. I know I wasn't easy on you, but I do believe that a pint of example is worth a gallon of advice."

Never mind that he spent his days after heart surgery dealing out orders for the business from his barcalounger, or that he tended to favor his anemic clients over more profitable ones. Still, I wouldn't have traded those years for anything, so I guess we were even.

"You were a damn good pilot; maybe better'n your brother ever would've been, too."

"Oh crap," I said with a moan. "We
are
going to die in here."

"Will you stop that? Danged if I ever pay you a compliment again."

"I'm sorry." I sniffled and thinking it best to change the subject, I said, "Do you ever dream about flying?"

"Every once in a while. But for some reason I’m not in an airplane, I've got my arms spread wide and I'm soaring over the earth, looking down on the San Joaquin Valley."

"Yeah, I dream like that, too," I said. "Kinda fun isn't it?"

"With Ron Barbour dead, you and Pearlie can still set up your own P.I. business, right?"

"I was thinking I'd build a greenhouse and raise hydroponic tomatoes."

He was quiet for a minute. "You're joking, right?"

"It's looking like the P.I. business may not happen after all."

"Sure it will. Just have Pearlie make up a card for your greenhouse tomatoes."

"If only." But since we were likely to be stuck here in the dark for a few more hours, I figured I might as well tell him what we'd discovered about Ron Barbour.

After explaining it all to him, I said, "I suppose you're going to tell me,
a fool and his money are soon parted."

"I don't think you're a fool for investing in a business. From what I've read, good investigators are in demand these days. And if Ron Barbour taught you girls as much as you say he did, then it's not a waste of your money. So tell me, who do you think killed Ron and what're you girls going to do about it?"

"I think Ron must've uncovered a suspect," I said. "And that person is still very much alive and willing to kill again to keep his secret."

"A man whose past can't stand the light of day will be dangerous. Think about it. His secret had been safe and secure all these years. Could Ron have found and tried to blackmail this man? And gotten killed for it?"

"If that's true, the killer has to be someone whose financial worth is wrapped up in their very important position in this community."

"Now you sound like a real P.I."

But since I couldn't do anything about it right now, I yawned and tried for a more comfortable position on the cold, hard surface of the dirt floor. "It's getting colder. I wonder if we'll die of hypothermia or just run out of oxygen."

He laughed and hugged me tighter. "We'll make it. They're digging for us right now. You'll see. Any minute now they'll be breaking through."

"I'd be hungry if I weren't so cold."

"Quiet," he said.

"I know, I know, don't be negative."

"Not that. I heard something. Wait―there."

I heard it too. It was the sound of rocks being moved, dropped, a man's voice.

I got to my knees and felt the rock wall vibrate. "They're coming. They're getting close!"

Dad pulled himself up to the wall. I put his hands next to mine so he could feel it, too. Nothing. Had I imagined it all?

I moved my hands to another cool rock, waiting for the sound of a voice, a movement, anything.

"There!" my dad said. "Wish I had my hammer or pick to signal them."

"Then we'll just have to start yelling," I said, and opening my mouth to draw in a lung full of weak oxygen, I saw a man's leather gloved hand break through.

I threw a hand up against the bright beam of light shattering our small, dark prison, then joyfully sobbed.

An excited voice pierced the hole. "They're here!"

Another hand, this one black with dust, the fingers ungloved and bleeding, yanked out another rock and reached through to grab my hand.

"Move back as far as you can, sweetheart. We're going to break through."

"Caleb!" I cried, thrilled to hear his dear voice.

We did as we were told and scrambled back until we were as far away as we could get from the breaking wall of rock.

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Chapter Nine:

Swaddled in blankets, Caleb and another man led us out of the tunnel and into bright light and applause. After the hours spent in the pitch black of the mine, my eyes were having a hard time adjusting to daylight.

I saw people we knew, Pearlie, Sheriff Ian Tom, Karen Paquette and what looked like our entire Cochise County Search and Rescue team pushing close to grin, hug and slap us on the back.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Two a.m.," Caleb said. "We've been at it all night, taking turns digging, bringing out rock until we pushed through. Your search and rescue unit set up a relief station with first aid supplies and hot coffee. I don’t know what I would've done without them."

"Two a.m.? Then why is it so bright?"

"Someone brought klieg lights on stands so we could continue to work through the night."

We stepped into the crowd of well-wishers, all of them smiling and wiping tears from their dirt smeared faces. I gapped and stuttered my thanks. "I can't believe it. All these people?"

"Yes," The exhaustion in his voice was tinged with pride. "Off duty police officers, firemen, deputies and some miners whose expertise with mine collapse sure came in handy. They set up a rotation so there would be no down time. Someone was always digging."

I picked up his bruised and bleeding hands, my heart filled with love. "Oh, Caleb, you didn't rest."

"They forced food and coffee on me a few times, but I couldn’t stop," he said, kissing the top of my dusty head. "Not until I knew you and your dad were alive and safe."

I broke out of his warm embrace long enough to thank our rescuers. I thanked them all and told them that I would never forget their bravery and kindness to me and my family. "And, if ever any of you need a helping hand, you've only to ask. Thank you my friends."

"Now," I said to Caleb, the last of my energy melting away. "Take me home."

As Caleb was about to settle me into the quad, I stopped. "Where's Dad?"

"He's talking to one of mining families, but I'll go ask if he's ready to go."

He came back from the tight group of people surrounding my dad and said, "Someone by the name of Gabby will bring him home later. Right now, it looks like he's made some new friends."

"That's good," I said, yawning.

<><><><><>

Showered, powdered and in my nightie, the draw of bed in a dark room didn't hold the appeal it usually did. "Can we sleep on the roof tonight? I haven't had my fill of open sky for today."

Caleb didn't bother to mention that it might rain. He simply nodded and went to get the sleeping bags and a lantern.

Tucked under double zippered sleeping bags, we snuggled in and drowsily contemplated the stars playing peekaboo with the clouds.

The front door opened and shut, then the French doors to the patio were opened and conversation drifted up to the roof.

"Dad's home," I said.

"And it sounds like he's got company," Caleb said, sniffing at the smells of frying bacon and eggs.

"If you're hungry, we could go downstairs and join them."

"I’m good," he said."You?"

"No, I'm too tired to eat."

I heard running water in the bathroom.

"Someone is making themselves at home," Caleb said.

"Dad is probably too keyed up to go back home tonight anyway. He knows where the blankets are," I said, yawning.

A moment passed and Caleb turned his head to look at me. "You have to close your eyes if you expect to sleep."

"I'm trying. I close my eyes, but I just can't seem to fall asleep."

"It's the aftermath of a crisis. You've got all the wrong chemicals swirling around in your brain. But I have the cure for that," he said pulling me to him.

I came willingly into his arms, knowing that making love with my husband was indeed the cure for what ailed me. Later, I dreamed of a large crow with bright black eyes circled overhead cawing…
Geronimo
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<><><><><>

When I awoke, it was morning and in the distance a mated pair of crows circled and flew off. I reached across for Caleb only to find he had quietly slipped out of bed. I could smell coffee brewing, so I pulled his pillow under my head and watched the morning light spread across the valley below us. Taking inventory after last night's events I decided that in spite of the danger we'd faced with the mine collapse, we had been remarkably lucky.

I loved this time of day. The air was crisp and clean from yesterday's rain and the foliage along the San Pedro, while still deep in shadow, glowed darkly green. The cottonwoods sheltered the river as well as a myriad of hummingbirds and the tiny crimson red flycatchers.

I got up, but left the sleeping bags where they were in case I again found four walls too close for comfort. Then again, any excuse for another night under the stars wasn't a bad thing.

Dad's friend was gone and last night's dishes were on the drying rack. Caleb was in the shower and my dad was snoring on the couch, a blanket drawn up under his chin. I poured two cups of coffee and waved one under his nose.

He awoke with a snort, sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Huh? What time is it?"

"Seven thirty."

"It's late," he said, accepting the cup of coffee and throwing off the blanket, he grunted at his rumpled clothing. "Is the bathroom free?"

"It is now," Caleb said, toweling his wet hair. The sight of the faded and tight jeans hanging low on his narrow hips never failed to impress me. Alone, I might be tempted to take him back to bed, but since my dad was here this morning it would have to wait.

"Thanks," Dad said, handing me his cup as he passed for the bathroom.

"What's your hurry? It's not Sunday, you don't go to church, or are you attending AA meetings now?"

"Don’t be smart, missy. Wishbone's chapter of The Benevolent Society of Miners meets this morning," he said, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

In another minute, he came out of the bathroom, hair slicked back, white stubble on his chin.

"Don't you want…?" The door slammed before I could finish my question. "I guess he doesn't want breakfast," I said. "Or maybe the club holds their meetings at a donut shop."

"What?" Caleb looked up from pouring his coffee.

"Never mind. I'm starved. What's for breakfast?"