MacFarlane's Ridge (33 page)

In truth, Wanda hated knowing as much as she did. Because she had spent so many years researching the local area, she knew things about a lot of families in the Bedford area, even Cam’s… things that Cam herself probably didn’t know, and might be better off not knowing. Maybe it would be better if Cam never found the letter, or if she didn’t find it until she was eighty and feeble and in a nursing home being fed through a tube, Wanda thought. 

As the small group reached each village, Wanda carefully made inquiries with the tavern keepers. No one had come looking for her so far, but the possibility remained that Cam could be arriving very soon. Wanda fervently hoped that if Cam did decide to come back, that she would be better prepared than she was the last time.

It took them over a week to reach the Ramapo Mountains, and they planned to spend three days in Ringwood while Basham met with Erskine, a Scottish geographer and engineer who was about to be appointed Surveyor General by George Washington.

The party rode into Ringwood during the third week of May. Erskine met them at the door of his manor home when they arrived.

“Basham! ‘Tis a good thing to see ye again, lad!” he exclaimed. Erskine was a native of Dumfermline, Scotland, and his years in the Colonies had not diminished his accent one bit. Wanda liked him immediately.

“The General sends his regards, of course,” Major Basham drawled. “Good to see you, as well, Erskine.”

May 18, 1777

Mollie -

We are in New Jersey now, and resting for a few days before we begin the trek into the Hudson River Valley. Angus is remaining in Morristown, while I travel north with Major Basham and the other two men in our party, one being Basham’s brother-in-law (Basham is married to his sister, and he is married to Basham’s sister!) and the other a malodorous young Irishman of questionable background who is a very good marksman.

In addition to be a major producer of iron goods, Ringwood is a supply center, transportation route, and shall soon be the site of George Washington's critical defense mapping agency. You may be amused to know this area is referred to as the New Jersey Highlands, and although it is very pretty I am sure it is not as beautiful as the Highlands from which you and Angus hail. The local iron works supplies the ore for many of our new country’s defense.

I am in the manor home of one Robert Erskine, a delightful little old man who is a somewhat prolific cartographer. Mr. Erskine is from Scotland, and has an extensive library which he has encouraged me to use at my will, and that is where I sit now. He is very sweet, and referred to me as a “titian-tressed Valkryie” upon our arrival.

On the desk before me is a scale model of an object called the Marine Chevaux de Frise, a defensive tool created by Erskine last year. It is a large spiky structure, which is composed of wood and then linked by chains to others just like it, and then strung across the river to stop British ships in their tracks. The Chevaux de Frise floats just below the surface of the water, and it seems that most of the time the sailors do not know of its existence until it is too late and their ship is poked full of big nasty holes. Tomorrow we shall tour the ironworks and see just how these chains are made – it should be quite informative.

Regards,

Winnie

The next day, Wanda and the others rode with Erskine to the foundry of the Ringwood Company. Begun by a family named Ogden in 1742, the mines and ironworks of the company were taken over by a Dutchman named Peter Hasenclever, Erskine told them, just a decade or so ago. Hasenclever had created several production sites in the area, importing over five hundred workers from Germany and England, as well as hiring a few local whites and some free blacks. Erskine himself had taken over the operation from the Dutchman in 1771.

“And this,” the little man motioned, “is the central furnace. Tis where the ore is heated and then poured.”

Wanda was intrigued. “And the ore is mined locally?” she asked casually.

“Aye, lass, it is. Right here in the Ramapo Mountains, home of some of the oldest geological formations in the world,” he beamed with pride, as though he were somehow responsible for this being the case.

“Could you show me one of the mines?” she asked thoughtfully. She fanned herself lightly with her hand; even in the cool May air, the heat of the furnace was oppressive.

If Erskine was surprised by the request, he did not show it. “They are dirty and dark places, but if ye insist…” He waved his hand expansively. “There’s a number of them close by.”

Wanda glanced around. Peyton Basham and Ambrose Meador were examining the furnace with interest, and chatting with one of the foundry workers. “There’s one located near the top of Bellott’s Mountain,” she said carefully.

Erskine was impressed. “Ye’ve done your homework, then, lass, have ye not? Aye, ‘twas discovered by sheer accident by some lads who stumbled into a cave, and found iron ore within. Is that the one you’re interested in, then?”

“Yes, if it’s not any trouble.” Wanda tried to keep her voice neutral. “I realize it’s a bit far from the rest of the mines…”

“Tis no problem at all. If ye dinna mind riding all morning in a cart, we can be there before noon,” Erskine nodded.

She flashed a smile at him. “That would be wonderful. I’ll just let Basham know where I’m off too.”

Peyton Basham was less than enthusiastic. “You mean you want to go gallivantin’ all over some old mine shaft?” he drawled incredulously. “What on earth for, woman?”

“Business,” she said abruptly.

He arched his dark brows at her. “Business? Are you and Angus thinking of investing in a mine?”

Wanda nodded primly, and Basham laughed. “Does Angus even know that?”

“Oh, stop it, Peyton. You’re being asinine,” she snapped.

“Mmm. Well, you be careful out there with Erskine. He’s a valuable resource to the Continental Army, and I’d sure hate to see you get in the midst of any ambushes or what have you,” he advised.

She paused. “Ambushes? We’re just going a few miles, up to Bellott’s.” She pointed to a low peak in the distance.

“A few miles of empty road. I’m not saying you’re in danger, mind. I’m just suggesting you be careful.” He sighed. “I know you’re going to do whatever you damn well please anyway.”

Wanda smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be on my guard.” She frowned. “I didn’t think there were any British troops in the area right now, though.”

Basham stared at her. “It’s not the British I’m talking about. There’s plenty of redskins in the area, and no one ever knows where they are until they’ve taken your scalp, and by then it’s too late.”

Wanda unconsciously patted her long red hair. “Umm. I see.”

“I could send O’Toole with you, if you like,” the major offered.

She shook her head quickly. “No, no, that’s okay. Just loan me your pistol. I’m a fair shot myself.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then relented, pulling the pistol out of his coat. “It won’t be much of a defense, if y’all are attacked by a band of Choctaws or Mowhawks,” he said softly.

Wanda met his eyes, and nodded. “If I have to use it on myself or Erskine, I will.”

“I know.”

After that, there was nothing more to be said, and she and Erskine headed off to Bellott’s Mountain.

Despite Basham’s warnings, the ride was uneventful, and as the May sun rose high over their heads, they approached the mine. Wanda could see a crowd of men thronging about the hillside. None of them appeared to be working.

“What are they doing?” she asked Erskine, as they drew nearer.

He shook his head. “I dinna know, lass, but I can see they aren’t doing what they get paid to do. Lucas!” he called.

A light-skinned black man turned, and trotted down the path to meet them.

“Lucas, what’s going on up there?” Erskine demanded.

The man nodded a greeting to Wanda, then turned back to Erskine. “Little bit of a commotion, Mr. Erskine, but nothing we can’t handle.” Wanda was startled to hear the man speak with an Irish accent. She hoped her surprise didn’t show on her face.

Evidently it had.

“Lucas is a free man, Mrs. Duncan,” said Erskine pointedly. “He was raised by an Irish family here in the Ramapo hills.”

“Oh,” she said faintly, a little embarrassed.

“What sort of kebbie-lebbie have we got, then, Lucas?” Erskine pressed.

But Wanda didn’t have to wait for Lucas to answer. The source of the disruption emerged from the crowd of men, and walked down the hillside to meet them.

“You’re late. I expected you an hour or so ago,” grinned Cameron Clark.

Wanda leaped from the cart and grabbed Cam in a tight embrace, laughing the whole time. “I knew it! Oh, honey, I just knew you’d be back!”

Cam giggled. “It’s good to see you, too. You’re breaking my ribs.”

Wanda released her, and turned to Erskine. “This is my good friend, Cameron Clark. Cam, this is Mr. Robert Erskine.”

Cam nodded. “The legendary mapmaker.”

Erskine beamed. “You flatter me, Miss Clark. ‘Tis good to meet you, although why you chose to surprise Mrs. Duncan here of all places…” He shook his head, and wandered off to send the men back to work.

“How did you find me here? I mean, how did you know I’d be here today?” Wanda whispered.

Cam stopped for a moment. “Well, you remember the letter you wrote in December? Where you reminded me about Ringwood, and the mine shaft?”

“Yeah, but …”

“Peyton Basham wrote a letter to Angus – I mean, writes one, tonight -- telling him that you’ve all arrived here safely and not been slaughtered by Indians,” Cam beamed, pleased with herself. “So Troy and I decided this would be the best place to catch you, instead of me roaming all over the woods of New Jersey.”

Wanda nodded. “I see. Now, does this mean if Basham doesn’t write to Angus tonight you wouldn’t have found me?”

Cam paused uncertainly. “I never thought of that. I don’t know, Wanda. I really don’t.”

“Me either. You look awful, you know,” she said politely.

Cam glanced down. It was true. There was a gash on her forehead, and her dress was torn and stained. She had lost a shoe somewhere in the mine, and her leg had a streak of dried blood encrusted on it. Her body ached from the hundreds of tiny bruises. “Well, I had a rough flight,” she said lamely, sending Wanda off into peals of laughter.

“Oh, you are something else, Cam! I have an extra pair of boots back at Erskine’s house. They might be a little big, but you’re welcome to ‘em.” Wanda peered at her curiously. “What was it like, anyway?”

“What was it like?”

“Was it the same as the Faerie’s Gate? The one in Virginia?”

Cam frowned. “No. No, it wasn’t like that at all. The Faerie’s Gate was like… well, you remember the sensation of drowning, but knowing it was going to be okay… this was different.”

Wanda looked at her curiously. “How so?”

“It’s worse,” she said softly. “A lot worse. I didn’t think I would make it through.”

Cam told Wanda how she and Troy had driven to Ringwood a few days before, and that this time Cam had thought herself prepared. She had packed a bag with two changes of clothing, and a little bit of food, just in case she found herself out in the woods with nothing. She had studied maps of the area, to get the layout of the land, and discovered that there were actually several mineshafts in existence. But one had stood out from the rest, several miles away from the others.

They had stayed in Ringwood a few days, waiting for the right time, waiting for the date in the major’s letter to Angus Duncan, which Troy had found with the assistance of Diana Basham.

May 19, 1777

Ringwood, New Jersey

Angus –

We are arrived safely at the home of Robert Erskine, and I believe he has taken a bit of a fancy to your wife. He tells me that she is one of the most intelligent women he has ever met, and finds her refreshing. He is, of course, a gentleman so you needn’t worry about his intentions. He is quite dignified and proper and would never do or say anything remotely dishonourable towards your wife.

Winnie spent the day exploring Erskine’s mines, in particular one on Bellott’s mountain, a fair piece from here. There was quite a bit of excitement there, apparently, but I shall let her tell you the story in her own time.

Intelligence indicates that General Howe is indeed intent upon taking Philadelphia, although when that is to occur is as yet unknown. Our small party – now numbering five – will be traveling to that fine city in a few days, once my business with Erskine is concluded, and then I shall head north to deliver information to our boys in New York.

Best wishes to you and the men.

Major Peyton Basham

Ringwood, New Jersey

The Present

At sundown, on the eighteenth of May, Cam and Troy had driven to the top of Bellott’s Mountain, which was really more of a large hill, as far as Cam was concerned. It wasn’t even remotely as impressive as the mountains she was accustomed to in the Blue Ridge. Houses had sprung up along the side of the road in the past fifty-odd years, and they parked in the lot of an abandoned country club building that stood at the peak. Not far away, they could see a small lake, which Troy told her was called Skyline.

“Will you come with me?” she asked him. “At least for a little way?”

He nodded. “You sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” she breathed.

They circled around the back of the clubhouse, being careful not to lose their balance on the crumbled stones. Broken glass littered the ground, and the shards of brown and green bottles suggested that the local teenagers probably came here to hang out.

“You know where it is?” Troy asked her.

“There should be a path back here, near the water towers. Over there,” she pointed. In the dusk, the twin green water towers rose above them, graffiti-covered behemoths over the treeline. She could see the lights of homes through the trees, but as they picked their way down the hillside there were no sounds other than those of crickets and birds. Cam hiked up her long skirt to clamber over a fallen tree.

“Oof,” she grunted. “It shouldn’t be too much further.”

“What is it we’re looking for, exactly?”

Cam checked her notes, scribbled on her left hand in felt-tip pen so she wouldn’t lose them. “There should be three big rocks that form a triangle, and behind them is the boarded up mineshaft.”

“Three big rocks? All I can see are big rocks,” murmured Troy. “It appears to be the staple crop of northern New Jersey.”

Cam laughed nervously. “Well, these three are standing on end, like the poles of a teepee.”

Troy stopped, and she bumped into him. “You mean like those, right over there?”

The stones in question were easily twelve feet high, and sure enough, by some strange and bizarre quirk of nature, their top ends were all propped against each other.

“I think so,” she breathed. Daylight was fading rapidly now, and she clicked on the big flashlight, shining it over the rocks. Branches and leaves filled the gap between the stones. The space was easily big enough to stand in, and several feet wide. She began pulling the debris out.

Troy leaned over. “Let me help.”

They worked silently, the flashlight bobbing in the dim light.

“Stop a minute,” he said. “What’s that?”

A spar of splintered wood lay diagonally across the rear of the space. Behind it was a yawning black hole.

“That’s it,” Cam said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “The mine.” She shone the flashlight into the open square, but saw nothing.

Troy peered over her shoulder. “Holy cow. It’s dark in there.” Cam could feel him shiver beside her.

“Yeah.” She looked at him uncertainly. “I guess this is it, then.”

She saw him nod, and he picked up her leather bag and handed it to her. “You want to take the flashlight?”

“You won’t get it back,” she said.

“That’s okay. I can get another one.”

“Yeah.” She turned and gazed into the darkness once again. “Well, here goes nothing, then, right?”

“Cam.” He grabbed her arm, stopping her abruptly.

She didn’t look at him.

“Cam, please don’t go, okay? I know something bad is going to happen to you,” he pleaded.

Cam shook her head. “I have to. It’s Rob. I know it is. And if we’ve figured all of this out correctly, Wanda will be there to help me.”

He pulled her close in a big bear hug. She could feel him gently kiss the top of her head, and then, so softly she wasn’t even sure she heard it, he murmured, “I’d go if it was you on the other side.”

Troy released her, and backed away, out of the space between the giant stones. “Be careful,” he said gently.

Cam tried to keep her voice level. “I’ll be back in Haver Springs one of these days.”

Suddenly he was gone, and Cam knew that he would sit outside the stones until the sun rose the next morning, as they had agreed upon. Just in case she had been wrong. Or just in case she changed her mind.

She turned back to the opening once again, and pointed the flashlight at the ground. The mine’s entrance was littered with the debris of the hundred and some years since its closing, but she could make out the straight lines of a pair of rails along the floor. She shouldered her bag, tied up her skirts so she wouldn’t trip, and crawled under the spar, descending into the blackness.

The mine was endless, twisting and turning for miles, dropping downwards. She stayed on the rails, the circle of Troy’s Mag light flashing a beacon ahead of her. The air was muggy, and Cam hoped she wasn’t inhaling some long-buried toxic substance that she couldn’t see or smell.

After what seemed like hours, the rails stopped at an abutment of stone and dirt. Cam swung the light up over the pile, and saw that although the track ended, the shaft did not. She closed her eyes for a moment, in silent prayer, and then clambered over the rubble.

This part of the mine was different. Rather than being flattened pebbles and dirt, the floor here was slick stone, sloping downward at odd angles. The ceiling here was lower, and Cam found herself crouching over to avoid hitting her head on the jagged rocks above. The air was thicker, and far off in the distance she could hear a whooshing noise. It didn’t sound like the waterfall in the cave in Virginia, though. As the noise grew louder, Cam realized it sounded like rushing air, and soon she detected a low rumble underneath the windy sound.

She reached a point where the tunnel pivoted sharply to the left, and as she turned, she saw that she was going to have to climb up and through a small hole in the wall. She aimed the flashlight through the opening, which was at the same level as her shoulders. She could feel air rushing past her, and the noise was deafening.

For a brief moment, she considered turning back. She had been in the mine for a few hours, but if she left now she would be back outside before dawn, and Troy would still be there waiting for her.

But Robert is still on the other side…

She put her foot on a protruding ledge, and hoisted herself up into the hole. She was halfway in, lying with her waist across the opening. The wind was unbelievably strong now, whipping her hair into her face and bits of sand into her eyes. She gasped for breath, and pointed the light downwards. The cavern was pitch black; she could see nothing.

Suddenly, she realized she was being drawn in by the vacuum, being sucked into the gaping hole.

Terrified, she tried to squirm back out through the opening, kicking and flailing her legs, which seemed to be tangled in her skirt. The noise of the wind, which had begun as a light breeze was now a horrific roar, and she felt herself being pulled across a sharp piece of stone. Her leg stung as the rock tore through her skin, and that was when she screamed.

There is no sound in a vacuum, she thought absurdly, as her legs were jerked through the hole. She was falling, falling through the blackness, but oddly, she was almost sure she was traveling up, being propelled along by the tornado. Bits of rock and debris pelted her mercilessly as she flew, and although the entire trip could only have taken moments, it seemed like an eternity.

I’m going to die.

Cam was gasping for breath, fighting the wind, trying to get some air. Her lungs were bursting from the pressure…

“That was when I slammed into something,” Cam admitted. “I had one heck of a headache when I finally opened my eyes.”

“Where were you when you woke up?” asked Wanda with interest. They were sitting on an overturned cart, watching the men unloading the ore from the mine. Wanda pulled a pipe from her pouch, and a small tinderbox.

Cam shook her head. “I don’t know how I got there, but I was back at the end of the railhead, where the big dirt pile is. Next thing I know, some big fat guy is shaking me awake and asking who am I and what in the bloody bejesus am I doing in Mr. Erskine’s mine. That was when I knew I was in the right place.” She watched as Wanda lit the pipe, took a deep draw and exhaled, like some exotic red-headed dragon. “That’s attractive. Does Angus know?”

Wanda laughed. “Of course not, he’d be appalled. He’s still getting used to the fact that his wife sees other men’s naked bodies on a fairly regular basis.”

Cam raised her brows. “Take up a new occupation, did you?”

“Well, yeah, but not the one you’re thinking of, honey. I’m helping out in the hospital tents,” Wanda grinned.

“Oh, that’s a relief.” Cam paused for a moment. “I still can’t believe I’m here again, or that it’s even possible, you know?”