Jasper Mountain (41 page)

“You listen to me, Bill. We got to hold to something, or we’ll all curl in a ball like Rolf. I’m holdin’ to Jack. He’s done right by us so far, and I trust him.”

“You was callin’ him ‘Creely’s pup’ not two weeks ago.”

“And I was wrong,” Pete said. “Turn over the damned knife.”

“No.”

From a distance, Rolf’s voice joined in. “No … no … no …”

“Now see what you done?” Pete asked. “Rolf’s riled up again.”

“Bill,” Jack said, “I agree with you. We do have two options.” He steeled his voice. “Get out, or die trying. If I do die, I’ll be working to free all of us. I don’t plan to cower and wait for the mountain to take me. Now, are you with me?”

“… no … no … no …” Rolf’s chant continued.

“Or will you give up and let this damned mine crush everything you are?”

“… no … no … no …”

“All right. Here,” Bill said. Cool metal plopped into Jack’s waiting, open palm and Gentleman Bill’s hand covered his. They gripped, just for a moment, a handshake, a promise. The warmth of Bill’s hand withdrew.

“You won’t be sorry,” Jack promised. He gently pulled Mouse from him. He grasped at first, then he must have understood what Jack wanted, and let go.

Brave little boy. He must be terrified; no sight and no sound. How did the kid keep from going crazy? Mouse obviously possessed the courage of all of them combined. Jack felt a glimmer of pride.

“… no … no … no …”

“We are going to get out. Pete, while I’m exploring, you take stock of any supplies we might have. Bill, you crawl around and see if you can’t find anything else, anything at all,” Jack said, ordering them to action more for their sanity than any real purpose. “Be careful. Don’t go too far.”

“Yeah, don’t wander off and git rescued,” Pete said.

“Jack, I’d come with you,” Digger whispered, “but I’m feelin’ a mite flat.”

“Thanks anyway, Dig. You rest.”

Trying to forget the lance embedded in his side and the bands squeezing his chest, Jack set out to find something in the dark. He didn’t care what. He considered lighting his candle, but it was the only one. They might need a glimmer or two down the road. He made his way on his hands and knees, looking for … what? Anything. He bumped into a rock wall and rose up on his knees, hands scraping up. How far did it go? He decided to crawl along, following the edge, if that’s what it was.

A fool’s errand, sure. But what better sport for a fool to engage in?

Rock stung Jack’s palm. Pain actually became a friend, reminding him he was alive.

A ribbon of air wafted across his face. He froze. Had he dreamed it?

Please. Come again. Please. God, please.

Nothing.

“Aw, cripes, it’s just a rock,” Gentleman Bill’s voice echoed. “I’m starting to imagine things. I thought I had me the end of a pickaxe.”

“… no … no … no …”

“That’ll happen, Bill. No need to git upset. It’s only a mistake,” Pete said.

“… no … no … no …”

Dejected, Jack inched along the base of the wall. There must be a way out of this hell. They couldn’t die. Not Pete, Gentleman Bill. Such good men.

Please, God, save Digger. At least save Mouse. He’s just a kid, God. Just a little boy.

Rolf’s litany stopped. A wet thud sounded. Then a moan.

“Pete?” Jack asked.

“Wasn’t me,” Pete’s voice answered.

Another wet thud. Like the sound of an animal carcass smacking against a wall.

“Everyone say your name,” Jack ordered over the sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Digger, ornery as ever.” Despite the cheerful words, Digger spoke barely above a whisper.

“Pete.”

“Most folks call me Gentleman Bill.” Forced geniality in Bill’s words struggled against the despair in his voice. “And a little fella known as Mouse is with me.”

Another thud. This time it didn’t sound so much like a carcass. It sounded like a head.

“Rolf?” Jack asked.

Another thud.

“Oh, God. Leave him be,” Pete said, his voice breaking. “Jesus, just leave him be.”

Thud. This time, wetter. Like something finally broke. Jack’s stomach rolled. “Rolf,” he said, crawling toward the sound. Another thud reverberated through the dark. “Rolf?”

Silence. Jack inched closer. “Rolf, I’m coming to you. Take my hand, buddy. Take my—”

A piston slammed into him. A sickening thud ripped through the dark, but this time it tore through him.

Victor approached the gate. The apparition continued to follow him, a tear rolling down the spirit’s dusty cheek, leaving a trail. The tear, glowing with an inner light like a smooth gemstone, dropped from his face, falling into nothing.

“We’ve confirmed an accident,” Victor said. “Cave-in. We need to keep the families back and away. This is no place for hysterics.”

“Men trapped?” Cain asked.

Victor nodded. “The west side of Tunnel Fifteen collapsed; the whole thing’s gone, along with the ones above and below. It’s bad, Sheriff. Quite extensive. I doubt anyone is alive down there.” Victor looked straight at Milena, a gleam of triumph flitting across his expression. “Jack Buchanan was overseeing a blast that must have gone wrong. I had no idea he’d prove so inept. I never should have promoted him so quickly, but he seemed sure of himself.”

Revulsion swirled through Milena. And anger. She knew in her soul Victor was responsible for all of this. He remained smug and deadly as a viper. One who squeezed the mountain until it gave in.

“Jack Buchanan is alive,” she said.

“Certainly it’s what you want to believe. Milena. It’s not possible anyone from his team survived. From what we can tell, they were at the center of the collapse. We can’t even lower the platform deep enough to get anywhere near where his team worked. The shaft is partially destroyed.”

“You will not even try,” she said, a statement instead of a question.

“Milena, trust me. If anyone wants to believe Jack is alive, it’s me. The boy was like a son to me. We’ll reach them at some point. But hold no hope, my dear.”

Another tear-gem slid down the ghost-miner’s face.

“We’re pulling Rory’s men out now,” Victor continued, speaking directly to Cain. “We were able to get to them right away. We’ve got some injuries, bad ones.”

“Any dead?” Cain asked.

“One man so far.” Victor raised his voice. “Doctor? We need you to come in and set up.”

“I’ll gather my supplies,” Ambrose answered.

Another miner wandered toward them, this one missing his right shoulder and arm, his head partially collapsed.

“I’ll take care of keeping things under control,” Cain said. “You concentrate on the rescue, Mr. Creely.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Victor said, and the second spirit-miner stopped to stand with the first. They both stared at the mine president. “Madame Shabanov, prepare yourself. If we do find any of Jack’s team, what we will bring up are bodies.”

Frustration lumped in her chest. “How can you be sure? What do you know we do not?”

Noise from the gathering crowd and the rescue effort broke the silence that fell between Victor and Milena.

“Sheriff,” Victor said, turning from her, “the men really are quite superstitious over women on mining territory. Be sure to keep all the ladies off the property.” He shoved Milena into Cain. “Starting with this one.”

Cain’s body was hard as a tree, and he grabbed Milena and pulled her close. She tried to wriggle away, but he gripped her tightly.

“Let me go,” she said, “or you will lose that arm.”

The sheriff laughed. “You sure are a hellcat, aren’t you?” he murmured into her ear. “Much as I’d like to experience you firsthand, I don’t got the time right now.” He drew a line in the dirt with his toe, and pushed her to the other side of it. “Now this here’s the line. You stay on that side.” Milena spun to face him.

“What’s happened?” a woman called out from behind.

“Don’t worry, we got everything under control,” Cain lied. Behind him, Victor headed for the mine shaft, the two spirit miners trailing behind him.

“A cave-in is confirmed,” Milena said. “Men are dead. Men are trapped.”

Cain glared at her as the crowd grew agitated. A garbled name shrieked through the air. Cain drew his gun, and behind him the officers stood ready.

“Everybody calm down. Nobody crosses past the gate. We’ll let you know what we can.”

“Do you plan to shoot us, Sheriff?” Milena asked.

“You need to shut your mouth,” the sheriff answered, pointing his gun at Milena’s forehead. “Ifin I have to make an example, I will.”

“Really, Sheriff, is that necessary?” Isabella’s cool voice rose above the panic of the crowd as she pushed her way through. “These people are families, loved ones. They only want to help.”

“You can all help by staying back. There is a rescue operation underway.” He did not lower his gun, but kept it pointed at the center of Milena’s forehead. His eyes dared her to say another word.

She did not flinch. “Why do you not welcome all the help available?” Milena asked. “We are far from useless.” Many voices rose in agreement.

“I told you to shut your mouth.” He cocked the gun.

Isabella pulled her back. “For heaven’s sake, Milena, the last thing we need is you with a hole through your head.”

“Jack is alive,” Milena said, a touch of desperation in her voice. “I am certain.”

“If he’s alive, I bet others are, too,” a female voice called out.

“I’m sure Mr. Creely is doing everything possible to rescue everyone,” Cain said.

“We have seen proof. He is not,” Milena answered.

Cain fired, the gun’s explosion followed by screams.

T
he sheriff’s expression twisted with satisfaction, his gun aimed into the sky. He fired again. More screams and people ran away from the gathering near the gate. Milena covered her ears with her hands. Cain fired yet again.

Ambrose pushed to the front of the churning crowd. “Good Lord, man, are you insane?”

“Gotta do somethin’ to shut that whore’s flappin’ mouth.” He nodded to Milena. “Next time I’m aimin’ right at that empty head of yours when I pull the trigger.”

“Enough!” George Barger waved his rifle. “We have injured coming up! Doctor, you may come in and set up near the headframe.” He spoke like he bestowed a great gift. “We must keep order, especially in this crisis situation. Please, Doctor, come forward. We’ll stand aside and let you through.” “And my supply wagon?” Barger nodded. “Of course.”

Ambrose hooked his arm through Isabella’s and Milena’s. “Ladies. Come with me.”

“Hold up,” Barger said. “I believe we’ve made it abundantly clear. No women are allowed on mining property.”

“Ah! Easy enough difficulty to overcome.” The doctor grinned. “Don’t think of these ladies as women. They’re nurses.”

The comment urged several hoots and whistles from the people nearest them.

“They’re whores!” George Barger didn’t bother to hide his disdain. Quite different from the sniveling man whose flattering words fell from his thick lips as he groveled for female attention at the Boarding House.

The doctor drew himself up to his full height. “I repeat. These ladies are my nurses. All of them.” The other Boarding House women pushed through the crowd to gather around Ambrose. “I need every one. I don’t have time to argue the finer points of nursing versus whoring with you. Injured men await. Ladies, please do forgive Mr. Barger his unseemly indiscretion. I am sure, in retrospect, he will be appalled by his behavior.” The doctor lowered his voice. “Will you order the men to stand aside or not?”

Barger drew his lips into a pout and scurried away. At first, Milena thought he left to cry, but he headed straight for his master. The doctor let out a prolonged, theatrical sigh. Despite the intensity of the moment, Milena allowed herself a vague smile. She enjoyed seeing the doctor in his shining armor once again.

Creely stood apart, observing the rescue operation from several yards away. Around the Jackal, the group of spirit miners grew. Now five watched his every move. Five dead. She wondered if Victor felt them watching. Did he sense anything at all, perhaps a chill of unease? His solid stance indicated complete assurance. Milena marveled at his ability to keep the demon on the inside, no crack in his façade of a confident, intelligent man made of strength and passion.

“I hope you don’t mind my hiring all of you.” The doctor brought Milena’s attention back to the task at hand. “I will need all of your help.”

“Absolutely, we are at your service, Ambrose,” Isabella answered.

“Why, Dr. Kline, we’ll do anything y’all desire,” Suzanne chimed in. Regret bolted through the doctor’s eyes, but he reclaimed his mood. Milena knew he thought of the one woman missing, the one he’d do anything to have by his side.

“We will do all we can.” Milena returned to watching the King of the Jackals. As Victor spoke with George Barger, his attention shifted to her. The predator locked eyes with his prey. His glare bored into her. She refused to drop her gaze. She would not cower before the man. At least, not on the outside, she thought as a warning shivered down her spine.

He did this. This cave-in. Somehow. This entire disaster, delivering death to innocents, came courtesy of Victor Creely.