The Loner (34 page)

"Let me change my clothes."

That took a bit longer than Logan would have liked and she walked slow as molasses in January, so they were running about a half hour behind schedule when they finally reached the opening of the cave. Then Ace attempted to talk his way out of going inside, which took up more time and had Logan reconsidering an earlier decision not to pull his gun and plug the bastard. Finally, his mother demanded Ace shut up and move forward and apparently she was one person he would not cross.

Logan lit the three lanterns he'd positioned earlier and led them into the cavern, hoping this plan he'd concocted wasn't another huge mistake in his life, one that ranked right up there with the other two whoppers he'd committed—leaving the Wilson brothers alive in Mexico so they could track down Maria and sweet little Elena, and leaving Caroline the morning after their wedding night.

As they descended into the cave, moving deeper into the darkness, Logan's worries began to haunt him.
God, maybe I am making a mistake. Maybe I should draw and fire right this second. No one would know otherwise if I called it self-defense. Why in the hell am I taking this risk? Didn 't I learn my lesson in the past? Why would I trust the Plunketts to the legal system and leave my family in danger?

As they entered one of the larger, dome-shaped caverns on their route, Logan shifted his lantern from his right hand to his left, then his free hand hovered just above his six-shooter. Old demons made his palms itch. Old regrets all but brought him to his knees.

"Good Lord, what is that?" questioned Fanny Plunkett.

They'd reached the first landmark on Shotgun Reese's gold map. It was a colossal wonder—a stalagmite that rose from the cavern floor almost twenty feet. It was thick and round and flattened on top as if a giant had strolled by and went
splat
with his fist. "Do you recall the first clue on the map?"

She quoted without hesitation. "Done in by him, we fled to distant climes."

"Look at the shape, ma'am." Logan held up his lantern and gestured for Ace to do the same. "What does that remind you of?"

She pursed her lips and walked in a semicircle around the stalagmite. "A gentleman's hat?"

"A stovepipe hat. Like the one worn by Abraham Lincoln."

"Done in by him..." she repeated in a murmur. "Shotgun came West after the War Between the States."

"I think it's safe to say that Ben was right in identifying this as the first landmark on the map."

"The map has fourteen landmarks." She glanced at her son, whose complexion appeared bloodless in the lamplight. "Which one was Whitaker looking for when he died?"

"Uh..." Ace's lantern rattled as his hand shook.

Logan could tell ole Ace didn't have a clue. Though he would have liked to let him stew, time was ticking by. "Number ten. I don't expect you to go that far, ma'am. Actually it's number six that has me most concerned."

"Well, then, let us proceed to number six."

Ace made a sound that combined a groan and a moan. His mother ignored him. Logan allowed himself a grin hidden by the darkness as he led them from the domed chamber following landmarks Ben had pointed out as they honed the plan the previous day.

The trek took them deeper and deeper into the caverns along a rocky trail that sometimes sloped gradually, sometimes climbed steeply, and always remained dark as a tomb. The trio seldom spoke between stops so every sound was magnified. Their footsteps, the sound of their breathing. Ace Plunkett's tiny whimpers. Finally, his mother rounded on him. "What is
wrong
with you?"

"I just.. .I just... I don't like this place."

"Oh, for God's sake. Act like a man, would you?"

"The sixth landmark is just ahead," Logan quickly interrupted. The last thing he needed was for Ace Plunkett to find his manhood now.

The next part of the plan was mostly Ben's idea. The man wanted—hell, needed—to have his revenge on Fanny and her son, and while Logan would have preferred to keep the process straightforward and clean, he understood Ben's motivation. Sympathized with it, too. Fanny and Ace deserved a lot worse than what they had planned for them.

They deserved to die.

Kill 'em now,
the protective male in him whispered.
This is your last chance before you join the others. Do it and the problem is solved and no one is the wiser.

But they'd wonder. Caroline and Will might even ask. Her, he could lie to—he owed her a big one, after all. But could he look Will in the eyes and deny he'd acted as jury, judge and executioner? He didn't want to destroy the boy's opinion of him right off the bat. Shooting Ace and Fanny here and now wouldn't be like killing Deuce. Ace didn't push Suzanne Whitaker down the stairs. Neither did Fanny. She planned Will's kidnapping, true, but his son was still alive. Could he murder her in cold blood? Sure. But could he admit as much to his son?

"No."

"What was that?" Fanny asked.

"We're almost to the sixth landmark," he lied. Actually, Fanny and her son would never see the sixth landmark, because the ambush spot was just around the next curve.

Surreptitiously, he checked his watch. Forty minutes late.
I hope they haven't given up on me.

He coughed loudly, sounding the signal.

The darkness enveloped like a tomb, a total and complete absence of light. Despite her preparation, despite the ready source of light at her feet, Caroline couldn't prevent the anxious unease that crawled up her spine.

Then the soft yellow glow of lantern light appeared just where expected. One. Two. Three. She focused on the comforting flickers and quieted her breath.

"This is it." Logan's voice echoed hollowly off the walls. "It's a little bit tricky. We have to position our lights just right. Ma'am, if you'll step here?"

From her hiding spot, Caroline watched him position the older woman. A sudden, unexpected flash of pure fury washed through her. Evil had joined her in this cave.

"Ace, you'll need to stand here."

"What's over there?" he replied, his voice pitched high and shaky. "I don't like it. I'm fine here."

"Get your ass over there, boy," snapped his mother. "I swear I knew you were useless, but I never realized you were such a yellow-bellied coward."

"Now, Mama."

"Oh, shut up."

Logan managed to place Ace into position, then he took his own, drew a deep breath, then said, "All right, set your lanterns on the ground on your right side and look straight up. See, up above you? It looks like a ceiling of diamonds."

The pair looked up. Holt's and Tom's arms extended from their hiding spots. Logan said, "Now."

The lanterns went out and the world went black.

Ace screamed. Fanny cried out, her voice riddled with fear. "What happened? Thurgood Hall? What's going on?'

From out of the darkness came the disembodied voice. A ghost's voice, saying, "I'll tell you what's going on, Fanny. You're going to Hell."

"Mama!" Ace whimpered.

"You should have left my family alone."

Fanny exclaimed, "Whitaker!"

"You're dead!" Ace cried out.

"Hell isn't a very nice place," Ben continued. "As you are soon to see."

"A ghost. He's a ghost." The man was blubbering now. Then he cried out again, "What's that? Who's there? Oh, Lord, save me, Hell's demons are touching me."

Caroline heard Fanny Plunkett breathing hard and the sounds of scuffling. "What the—"

"Got him," came Holt's voice.

"Her, too," said Tom.

"Handcuffs," Fanny scoffed. "What is this? Do you fools think you're going to arrest me?"

Ace sobbed. "You can arrest me. Just get me out of here. Arrest me. Arrest me."

Ben spoke. "This darkness is absolute, isn't it? Like no darkness I've ever seen before. Like death. Suzanne didn't deserve this darkness. She was all goodness and light. I think it's only right that you know what it's like to be alone in the darkness, trapped and unable to find your way into the light. Good luck finding your way out of here. I believe at this point we're some five hundred feet below the surface. Men, let's go."

Caroline heard the sound of footsteps and knew that Logan, Holt and Tom used the rope guide to move into position. She started counting. Fanny Plunkett began cursing, ugly words coming from an ugly heart. Her son's cries faded to whimpers.

Caroline had sided with Logan when he'd argued against Ben's desire for revenge. What they were doing was cruel and it bordered on torture. Ben felt that five minutes of believing themselves trapped in the dark constituted letting the Plunketts off easy, and he'd rattled off a litany of sins including bank robberies and stage robberies and cold-blooded murders the pair had committed in addition to their crimes against him to bolster his argument. At Holt's suggestion, they'd compromised on three minutes. Caroline's part was to light her lantern at the appropriate time.

Counting down, she readied her match. There. Three minutes. She struck the match, lit the lantern's candle and rose from behind the boulder that concealed her just as Logan called out her name in a warning tone...

And the gunshot sounded. The bullet hit the cavern wall beside her, then ricocheted off the wall. "Bring that lantern over here now or you're dead," came Fanny's voice.

"Shit," Tom said from a short distance away. "She had a gun? I missed a gun?"

"And you handcuffed her hands in front of her rather than behind, you greenhorn," Holt scoffed.

"Give her the lantern," Logan called, a thread of fear in his voice.

"And the keys to these cuff's," Fanny added.

"Mama?" Ace whimpered. "Mama, I want some light. Get me out of here, Mama."

"Oh, shut the hell up. You disgust me. I never knew you were such a panty waist." Then, to Caroline's horror, she pointed her gun in the direction of her son's voice and pulled the trigger. He made a grunt of pain, then nothing.

"Oh my God. You shot him. You shot your own son."

"A weak seed," she said coldly. "I don't tolerate weakness. Good riddance to him. Now, come here, girl." She shoved Caroline in front of her and kept her gun stuck in Caroline's side. "Ben Whitaker? You come here and lead the way out of here. One false move and I'll kill her. You know I will."

Caroline figured that all four men had guns pointed at Fanny and she was a little surprised that none of them had yet taken a shot. Was it the fear of ricochet stopping them? The lack of a clear shot? Fear they might hit her instead of Fanny?

"All right. Here I come," Ben said.

Fanny demanded, "Light your lantern."

It was as she heard the match being struck that Caroline first noted the sound. A faint hum, but not exactly a hum. More like a whine from far away. From far below.

And it was coming closer.

Tension thickened the air and Caroline shifted uneasily. Dread and trepidation filled her and had little to do with the gun against her side. Fanny was an evil she recognized, one she trusted Logan to deal with. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she waited for what, she didn't know.

The superstitious part of her wondered if maybe it
was
demons from below coming for wicked souls. She wished she hadn't skipped church last Sunday.

Fanny didn't appear to notice anything untoward because she poked the gun against Caroline hard and said, "Let's go, Whitaker. Move."

"I'm going. I'm going. Don't hurt her." Ben strode out of the widened chamber and back into the narrowed tunnel, which led to the nearest cavern exit.

Caroline jumped when she felt the first whoosh of something skimming past her. Even as she realized that, another and another and another joined the first, and the whine bore down upon them. Barreled past them. Brushed her skin.

Fanny cried, "What...?"

"Bats!" Logan hollered just as Caroline figured it out on her own.

It was a stream of bats, a river of them, squeaking and shrieking in her ears, swishing past and occasionally thumping against her. They came and they came and they came—hundreds and thousands and more, gushing into the narrow tunnel and filling it from wall to wall, ceiling to floor. The musty smell grew overpowering, and the age-old fear of humans for the tiny mammals made her forget about Fanny and her gun. The lantern lights extinguished, leaving them once again in total darkness, and Caroline heard herself whimper.

Vaguely, she realized Fanny was screaming and shooting her little revolver, long past the time she'd emptied its chambers of rounds.

Then something big and hard pushed against her. A body. A hand grabbed her, found her arm and tugged her against the fearsome stream. Logan. A leathery wing hit her face and she shut her eyes, following blindly. Blind as a bat. A hysterical little laugh escaped her. Then he shoved her down against a thick stalagmite.

"Curl up, honey," he instructed, hollering to be heard. "Think of a rock in a streambed—the water will flow around us."

Then he knelt in front of her and shielded her body with his, and Caroline felt safe.

When he kissed her, it shocked her almost as much as had the bats and she jerked her head away. "What are you doing?"

"Protecting you." He nuzzled her neck. "Distracting you."

"Oh. Well. Carry on."

She never completely lost track of time or place, but he did take the terror out of the moment. The bat flight lasted a long, long, long time—more than half an hour— and when the sounds finally died, the movements finally died, Logan lifted his head and whispered, "Stay here."

She wouldn't dream of doing anything else.

He said, "Sound off."

"Here," Holt said.

"Yo," came Tom's voice.

"Holy heaven above," breathed Ben. "Where's Caroline?"

"I'm here," she called out. "I'm fine."

Logan let out an audible sigh of relief. "Anybody hurt?"

Each man answered in the negative, then Tom asked, "Where's the witch?"

"I don't know," Logan grimly replied. "But unless she has a gun belt strapped on somewhere out of sight, she's out of bullets. Can anyone find their lantern?"

"I'm looking for mine," Holt called back. "Hard."

Tom discovered his first, and when the soft glow of candlelight bloomed in the darkness, the collective sigh of relief caused everyone to laugh.