Jasper Mountain (40 page)

“What about the collapse?” a voice shot out.

“My man’s in there!” a woman howled.

“There is no collapse,” George Barger shouted, but a growing swell of shouts and jeers swallowed his words.

“Everyone!” Taryn McShane pushed to the front of the crowd to stand between pointed rifles and angry townsfolk. Seeing him in his black suit, his chiseled features set in determination, and his eyes pleading for understanding, Isabella almost swooned. “Calm down, all of you. We are friends and neighbors.”

A male voice erupted from the crowd. “Ain’t no friend of mine stands with a rifle pointed at me!” Escalated anger shivered through the group of people. Just when Isabella thought the mob might charge, screaming and shouting started from behind. Isabella looked back to see Sheriff Cain ride a horse right through the center of the crowd. People dove to the side of the road to get out of his path. The mob fell apart, disrupted. Cain leapt from his horse at the front of the gate and drew his gun. He looked straight at Isabella. Apparently, he at least had the intelligence to know whom he was dealing with.

“What’s going on?”

“Sheriff, we are all terribly concerned. There’s been a mine collapse and no one is addressing the situation.”

Sheriff Cain grimaced in disbelief. “Collapse? How do you know?”

Ah, that bothersome question she hoped wouldn’t come up. Before she managed an answer, the door to the huge brick building opened. Victor Creely himself stepped out into daylight.

Things were about to get interesting.

The mob’s angry energy dissipated as Victor made his way to them. He pushed forward without any hesitation in long, sure strides, playing his part, a man forged of steel. Isabella noted Milena’s body stiffen, her eyes widening with alert. Victor scanned the crowd with no expression on his face, but when his attention lit on the Gypsy, something slithered behind his eyes.

“What do we have here?” he asked, his voice calm.

Milena stepped forward. “There is a collapse in the mine.”

He offered a smile, although an annoyed one. “My dear, this is no place for your mystical theatrics. We are running a business operation, something I’m sure you don’t understand. You are costing me time and, therefore, money. Other than you and your friends, everything is business as usual.”

“Surely, Mr. Creely,” Isabella interjected, “you might allow us to come in while you at least check? Put the families’ minds at ease?”

“No wimmin’ allowed! ‘Specially no whores,” the troll growled. Really, a most distasteful specimen of man. No matter what Stone Age he came from.

“Now, Bear, that is no way to speak to our guests,” Victor Creely said. “These people are concerned for their loved ones, but they are all seriously misled. Rest assured, there is no trouble here.”

Milena spoke, her eyes burning, her voice level. “You lie.”

Stunned silence fell. He stared at her, his expression unreadable. Isabella could only imagine what plots spun inside that head of his. She admired the boldness of the Gypsy.

“My dear, I’m not sure what you think you’ll gain from this fiction of yours, but you are seriously disrupting mining business.” He looked at Cain. “Sheriff, I want her arrested and removed immediately. She trespassed earlier, and our patience for dealing with a whore’s shenanigans is way past.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Creely.”

Milena scooted back when the sheriff grabbed for her. Victor’s thin lips rose on one side. Isabella recognized his expression of triumph.

Thunder sounded in the distance.

Victor’s look changed into one of confusion. Frantically, people looked around and up to the sky. A cloudless day. The rumble drew nearer and, suddenly, a tremor shook the ground beneath their feet, so small it was barely noticeable. Alarm shot through Victor’s expression.

Screams and prayers erupted.

“Speak no more, Victor Creely,” Milena proclaimed, and she raised her hand, palm up, to stop the mine president from saying a word. “The mountain itself reveals you for the liar you are.”

Really, Isabella couldn’t have planned the scenario better herself.

Jack slid helplessly along with chunks of rock. The image of the mountain laughing and tossing him around in its rocky guts raced through his head. He prepared himself, for the second time, for Death to take him. The slide stopped after a moment.

Stillness. Silence. He patted his chest. Yep, still alive. Death must be mad he played so hard to get.

Who was he fooling? He still lived due to pure, dumb luck. Not sure what happened, or where he was, Jack thought another chamber might have opened up. The last collapse sounded much worse than the first one. More violent, more devastating to the network within the mountain. His fears were coming true; the entire tunnel system was compromised. Collapsing.

He opened his mouth to call out to the others when a small gasp shot through the dark. A very small gasp. A very small and welcome gasp.

He reached out and the boy filled his arms, almost knocking him over. Jack held on for all he was worth. For his life. Tears fell, and he didn’t try to stop them. Mouse.

“Jack?” Pete’s voice swooped down from somewhere above.

“Jack? Pete? Glory be.” Gentleman Bill’s voice, and from close.

“Pete,” Jack called, trying to keep his voice even and the tears out, but failing miserably. “I’ve got Mouse and Bill down here.”

He held on to both of them. He didn’t even mind the pain in his side so much. Two more men. Alive. They wrapped their arms around each other in the silence of the dark, holding tight.

“Where’s Josef?” Jack asked.

“We don’t know. It’s just us two here,” Bill said.

“Okay,” Jack said, trying to keep disappointment from his voice. “Pete, Dig and Rolf are above us. Zeb is, too,” Jack continued. “He didn’t survive.” There was only the sound of breathing when Jack added, “It’s a wonder any of us did.”

“I can’t remember much at all past coming up to work this mornin’.” Small tremors shook through Bill’s voice. “I think Mouse broke his leg. I’m good.”

“I know you are,” Jack said, grasping Gentleman Bill’s shoulder and holding onto Mouse, careful not to squeeze too hard. He didn’t want to let go. In this empty dark, human touch was the only comfort they had.

M
ilena watched the rumble galvanize workers on the other side of the gate into action. Men ran to the headframe; shouting rose. The line of officers held steady, their rifles pointing directly into the gathering of townsfolk at the gate. Any moment someone might panic and pull a trigger.

The sheriff had effectively fractured the mob, and the rumble blanketed everyone with fear and shock, snuffing the growing anger of the crowd. Confusion bubbled through the group. No one knew what to do. On the other side, the so-called business side, everything shifted. Orders sliced through the air and the steam engine snorted with renewed purpose.

Reverend McShane broke through the crowd’s uncertainty. “Surely now you will let us in?” The minister spoke evenly and aimed his question at Victor. Milena admired the reverend’s gentle determination and took a place by his side, offering silent support.

Victor’s eyes darted, and she imagined his mind whirling to figure out how to turn the new situation to his advantage.

“Do your job, Reverend. You, too, Sheriff. Keep everyone calm,” Victor answered. He gestured for Cain to come closer. “We need time to assess what happened, and you have two choices. Manpower remains to hold the gate or I use some of these men to start a rescue if need be. I’m not convinced we have an emergency.”

Anger shot through Milena. “What more proof do you need?”

“Shut up,” Cain said, turning to face her. He cocked his gun. “The last thing we need is a hysterical whore.”

Victor rolled up his shirtsleeves and spoke graciously, but his eyes stayed cold as ice. “As you can see, we really don’t have the time to entertain, ladies. We have our hands full.” He addressed the line of armed men. “Gentlemen, keep the crowd back and allow us to do our job. All of you are to remain at the gate.”

From the men bunched around the main shaft, a miner broke through, limping in their direction, dust falling with every step. He loped like a wounded animal and wore one of the miner’s hats, the candle broken. His face reminded Milena of Jack’s hound dog, and his sad eyes focused on nothing. Dirt continued to fall from him, piles and piles of dirt. Yet he left no trail. And Milena knew she did not look upon a man.

The dusty miner stopped a few feet from Victor to stare silently at the mine president. Only one reason a spirit miner wandered here.

“Men are dying,” Milena said.

Victor’s arm darted out like a snake and wrapped around her tightly. He pulled her close, his cold breath carrying the stench of a decayed soul. “I do wonder how you foresaw this problem. Why are you insistent there’s been a cave-in? Perhaps Jack Buchanan planned some sabotage?”

“No one will believe any such thing,” Milena said, although in Victor Creely’s tangled web, it was difficult to foresee any event. With Victor, the future shifted constantly. Though calm on the outside, the King of the Jackals was more than greed, more than evil. This man was continuous turmoil. Chaos. Like a demon, he thrived on the emotional upset of others.

“I have not forgotten we have unfinished business to attend, my dear,” he whispered in her ear. “And I can hardly wait for our next tryst.” He released her, almost flinging her from him. She stumbled back, cold burning where he had touched her.

“Keep out of my way.” He raised his voice and looked right at the minister. “Keep everyone out of our way. We have real work to do.”

“Men go blind from cave dark,” Pete said. “I’m not sure how long it takes. Couple of days. Maybe.”

“In a couple of days we’ll be dead,” Gentleman Bill answered.

“No one else is dying,” Jack said, much more positive than he felt. “We’re all together. That counts for something. Hell, that counts for a lot.”

They could still move, after a fashion. The men huddled together, like wounded animals in a storm. Except this storm battered them with dark. And quiet. Dead quiet.

Bill and Pete were in pretty good shape. Mouse clung to Jack, his hands fisted in Jack’s coat material. The boy’s leg was broken. Like Rolf’s mind. Digger was hurt the worst of all of them. Jack held his friend’s hand. It grew colder by the minute.

“You doing okay, Dig?”

“Never better.” The miner’s voice faded a little more each time he spoke. He didn’t have much time. If Jack was honest with himself, none of them did.

The dark grew heavier, pressing in on them with each passing minute. Or was it hour? Or days? It didn’t seem like time moved at all. In the dark—actually not so much dark as an absence of everything—something watching. Waited. A presence. A creature. Not the benevolent mountain spirit Milena spoke of, but something else. Something evil.

Jack shook his head. If he wasn’t careful, he’d go as crazy as Rolf. His men were counting on him to hold on. He tried to keep Milena to the forefront of his mind, her awe of the mountain, her love of spirits and creatures otherworldly. The only feelings he managed were dread and the crush of hopelessness. He needed to do something before he jumped right out of his skin or, worse, gave up. “I’m going to work my way around the edge, see how big a space we’re in.”

“Nothin’ ‘cept more rock and dark,” Bill answered. “'Best to stay put and wait.”

“I want to see what our options are.”

“We got two. Die slow or die quick,” Bill mumbled.

“I’ll take quick ifin I can figure out how,” Pete answered.

“I got my penknife,” Bill offered. “That’ll be quick. And my preferred way when I can’t take no more.”

“I’ll take it,” Jack jumped in, keeping his voice light when he spoke his next words. “I’ve got the candle. Best thing is to keep the supplies together. My hand’s out. Give it to me.”

Silence answered.

“Bill, give it to me,” Jack repeated.

“It’s mine.”

“Bill—” Jack started, but Pete cut him off.

“Give it to him, Bill. He’s the boss.”

“Much as I wish things was different, we’re each on our own now.”