Colorado Dawn (21 page)

R
ocks and ruts filled the floor of the shaft. Their progress had been slowed to a crawl by the jagged terrain. A dogged certainty that they were going the wrong way clung to Karen, making her sluggish.

“Careful, darling. There’s a big rock to step over.” David put his arm around her waist to help her over.

“The way is getting so rough.”

“If things don’t improve soon, we’ll have to go back and try the other tunnel.” He sighed, stopping for a moment. “I can’t think that Marcus brought us this way. The going is too uneven for the cart he had with him.” He started moving again, and Karen had to follow.

When the walls narrowed and the tunnel ended in yet another unyielding rock wall, Karen sank to the ground and let sobs overtake her. “I can’t go on anymore.”

David knelt at her side, lifting her to her feet, gripping her shoulders. “You can. You have to. Karen, you’re the bravest woman I know. You won’t let this defeat you. We
have
to believe we will get out of here. Don’t give up now. You’re brave, remember?”

“I don’t feel brave, David. I feel tired and scared and small and lost. This darkness is pressing in on me. There’s nothing here but rocks and timbers and blackness.”

“I know how you feel, darling. I do. But you mustn’t give in to the fear. Remember what it did to me? I let it paralyze me, but I refuse to be afraid any longer, and I refuse to let you be afraid. We’re together. We have each other, and God hasn’t abandoned us.”

Karen licked her dry, cracked lips. “I thought I knew what you were going through with the blindness, but I didn’t. I didn’t know how horrifying it could be not to be able to see. I’m so sorry, David.”

He laid his cheek against her hair, his hand rubbing her shoulder. “Shhh. None of that. We’ll get through this together, right? There has to be an end to this tangled burrow, and we’ll find it if we just keep going. We’ll meet each obstacle as it comes, and if we have to dig our way out, we’ll do that. By now, I imagine Sam and Father are moving mountains to get to us, literally. So we are not going to abandon hope, right?”

“Yes, David.”

“I love you, Karen. Don’t forget that.”

They retraced their steps, and Karen tried to be brave, to pray, to think of anything that might get her mind off the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. Thoughts echoed and ricocheted in her head. She shook it to clear her mind.
Think! What’s nagging at you? It’s something David said
. “David?”

“Yes?”

“You said that just before the cave-in Paddy Doolin was coming toward you.”

“Yes.” They stumbled along a few more paces, and when she didn’t continue, he asked, “Why?”

“Paddy Doolin’s widow came to see us in Denver, right? I’ve been trying to think why he thought it so important for his wife to tell you about the wild animals. He must’ve been going to tell you just before the accident. You said he was coming toward you, pointing to the floor.”

“That’s right,” David said, the doubt clear in his voice as he inched forward, keeping a tight grip on her hand.

“So what was under him? And what did it have to do with coyotes?”

“The floor was under him.” He inched along a little faster, as if trying to escape her questions. “A few million tons of rock were under him. If he went far enough, China was under him.”

“I’m sorry, David. I won’t pester you anymore.”

He stopped. “No, darling, I’m the one who is sorry. It’s just so hard to think about. I feel so guilty. I should’ve been able to forestall the cave-in. I should’ve cottoned on sooner to what Marcus was up to, and for the life of me, I can’t understand how he did it. It might very well have been a design flaw of mine that caused the failure.” He stumbled, his grasp tearing away from hers as he fell.

“David!”

“I’m all right. The wall disappeared. I think I found another side tunnel.”

She edged forward as his boots scraped on the rock. Groping for him in the blackness, she found the wall first.

He muttered and stretched away from her, reaching for something. “What on earth?”

“What is it, David?” Fear rose in her throat. If only she could see.

“It’s a tunnel of sorts, but the opening is small. The base of this side tunnel must be three or four feet above the floor of the tunnel we are standing in.”

“Why would they do that? Is it a ventilation shaft?”

“No, it’s—” He stopped.

“What?”

“It’s a thieves’ tunnel.” The wonder of discovery filled his voice and sent chills up her arms.

“What?”

“Why didn’t I think of this? Of course. All the pieces fit.” He gripped her shoulders. “Paddy Doolin was right! When he said coyotes, he didn’t mean the ones he shot for raiding the henhouse.”

“David, tell me what you mean.”

“When word gets out of a possibly rich lode at a mine, there are always men who want to get to it before you do. That’s why we keep things quiet when we think we’re getting close to a big strike, right?”

“Right.”

“We were very close to what I had a hunch might be the biggest strike we’d ever hit. My early boring samples indicated an extremely rich stope, more silver and lead per ton than we’ve ever pulled in before. And the only ones who knew about it were Father, Sam, me—and Marcus. It’s possible that Marcus told someone or was working with someone to get to the stope first. When thieves want to get to the treasure, they don’t file a claim, they don’t start operating high, wide, and handsome. They dig narrow, tight, quick tunnels, looking to get to the strike first and take what they can before anyone is the wiser. Sometimes this is referred to as a coyote. Paddy Doolin must’ve seen signs of coyote digging and been coming to warn me. And if he was pointing to the floor, they must’ve been digging beneath the shaft.” He gave her a little shake. “Don’t you see it? The shaft didn’t collapse from above. It collapsed from below.”

“Then that means…”

“That means the cave-in
was
sabotage. I
didn’t
do anything wrong.” Relief radiated from his words. “Karen, I think this coyote tunnel may be the answer to our prayers.” He sucked in a harsh breath. “I didn’t want to tell you, because I hoped it wasn’t true, but before he left us, Marcus said he was going to blow up the entrance to the mine. I’ve been praying for another way out, just in case, and here it is.”

Blow up the entrance to the mine
. She pressed her hand to her middle, as if she could stay the feeling of her insides turning to sand and trickling away. “You mean…” She swallowed, praying her knees would hold her up. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me before now. I’m not sure what I would’ve done.”

“I know it won’t be pleasant, since it is so cramped, but this tunnel should lead us to the surface. Are you willing to try?”

“How cramped?”

“It will be big enough for us to get through, but not tall enough for us to stand up straight. And it might angle up pretty sharply, depending on how deep we are, but it probably doesn’t have any offshoot tunnels. Thieves don’t waste time. It’s dig straight for the treasure and get out quick.”

“If you think it is best, then, yes, let’s go.”

“I’ll go first to make sure it’s clear.” He climbed into the hole, sending a cascade of pebbles bouncing to the floor. His hands reached back for her. “Here, I’ll help you up. We’ll have to crouch and go carefully. If I say stop, you stop right away.”

After eons of climbing in the narrow shaft, her knees hurt and her palms burned from contact with the rough rocks. A hundred knives pierced her hunched back. “Can we rest for a minute?” Ever since David had realized he wasn’t responsible for the deaths of his friends and employees, he’d been rejuvenated, picking up their pace, hopeful of reaching the surface soon. Karen had been so happy for him and so thankful for a way of escape from the mine, she had done her best to keep pace, but the long hours in the dark had taken their toll. She couldn’t go on without a break.

David must’ve sensed her despair. “Yes, let’s rest. Come, let me hold you for a minute.”

She sidled near him and eased down. Feeling his arm, she reached for his hand, content to sit side by side with her head on his shoulder for a while.

He yawned and drew his knees up as far as the cramped shaft would let him. “Strange as it seems, and as long as we get out mostly unscathed, I can’t say I’m sorry for this experience.”

She choked on a breath. “You’re not?”

“I know. It’s odd. But would we have been as open with each other? We had so many misunderstandings and things to hash out. I thought you were leaving me for good; you thought I wanted you out of my life. When you left, I was still fighting with God about being blind, and I was afraid to leave the house. Our marriage was dying under the weight of my pride. If God hadn’t stripped me of everything and allowed Marcus to kidnap us, I don’t know when I would’ve broken down and asked for forgiveness. I was pretty useless to myself and everyone around me.”

“How could you think that? My life is nothing without you.”

“Do you know how long it has been since I thought you really needed me? Do you know what it’s been like to have you be the one to arrange our transportation, hail cabs, see to the mail, pay the bills? I know you’re more than capable, but I wanted to be the one to do those things for you. I was used to being in charge.”

She tried to imagine what it had been like for him, and her fingers curled around his. “David, I need you for so much more than you can even imagine. I’ve never felt put upon taking care of mundane tasks like paying bills. I do those things because I love you, not because I’m trying to take control. You’re the head of our home.”

He kissed her temple. “Are you rested enough? Think you can go on?”

D
id you feel that?” David stopped, and Karen bumped into his back.

“What?”

“I thought I felt…fresh air?” He sniffed.

Karen pushed her hair off her face and tried to swallow. The universe consisted of nothing beyond plodding in the dark, the scrape of their shoes on the rocks, and the persistent ache in every muscle and joint. The dank, dusty, earthy smell of the mine had clogged her nostrils for such a long time, she didn’t know if she would recognize fresh air.

“There, there it is again.” David’s voice lifted. “We’re almost there.” His hand reached back for her and took her hand to help her along once more. “Can you see daylight?”

She forced her eyes open wider and strained to focus on anything. Disappointment washed over her. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t see anything.”

“Maybe we’re around a bend.” They stumbled on.

Gradually, Karen became aware that the darkness wasn’t as black. Her heart lifted. “David, I see—”

“What? Sunlight?”

“No, I think it’s…starlight?”

“That makes sense. We must’ve been walking all night. Can you see the opening?”

“Not yet.”

With each step, objects and shapes began to emerge from the gloom. She discerned David’s outline, hunched shoulders, torn shirt, and tattered pants. Dried blood and dirt caked his hands in dark streaks as he sought handholds to help them up the slope. “David, I can see it. About ten yards ahead maybe? I can see stars through branches.”

“Do you want to go first, since you can see it?” He stopped and spoke over his shoulder.

Tears pricked her eyes and altered her voice. “No, David. You’ve led us this far. You go first.” A cool breeze that smelled of night dew brushed her cheeks.

David reached the opening and swiped his hand across the bramble stretching across it. Twigs snapped, and the opening widened. “We made it.” David shouldered his way through the limbs of tiny new spring leaves, and once free, turned back and held out his hand. “We made it, Karen.”

She struggled the last few steps up the rocky slope and all but fell into his arms. Tears wet her cheeks, and she clung to him. “Thank You, Lord. Thank You, Lord.” Her light-starved eyes took in every contour of the hills, every tree and shrubby shape. Pale stars winked overhead in an indigo sky. Fresh, sweet, cold air swept over them and murmured in the sparse pines, and somewhere a cricket chirped.

“Can you tell where we are?” David lifted his face to the wind and breathed deeply.

Karen loosened her grip on him and turned to survey the valley below and the hill behind them. “We’re about halfway up a fairly steep hill, and there’s a creek in the ravine below. You can just hear the water.”

“That’s our first priority, then. I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink of water about now.”

They skidded and slid down the slope. Loose stones and tufts of grass made the going difficult, but eventually they reached the water. David moved with more confidence than she would’ve thought possible just a few months ago, keeping hold of her hand until they knelt beside the creek.

Water had never tasted so good. She cupped her hands again and again, wetting her neck and splashing the front of her dress in her haste. When she couldn’t hold another drop, she sighed. “Which way do we head now?” Weariness crept over her again, and her limbs turned to lead. If only she could curl up and take a nap. She chafed her hands, icy after plunging them into the stream.

“Downstream.”

She didn’t question him. “The creek curves to the left around this hill.”

“I know you’re tired, but the sooner we get back to town, the quicker someone can get after Marcus.”

Rocks littered the streambed and made for slow going. Tailing piles from played-out mines lay like giant tongues on the hillside. They picked their way around the base of the hill, and Karen kept a watch out for a lamp or sign of habitation.

She found none until they rounded the brow of the hill, and she stopped to get her bearings. Above them, she thought she caught the glow of firelight. The skeletal frame of an abandoned derrick lay twisted, hanging down the slope as if pushed over by a giant’s hand. A sharp, new scar marred the earth, darker than the surrounding dirt and rocks. “David, there are people up there. Can you hear them?”

“Where?” His face turned to the sound of rocks and men’s voices.