Chapter 7

SEVEN

Somebody tell me what the hell is happening!” Braden’s yells welcomed Cora to Hope Falls long before she reached the buildings.

“Stop swearing, you miserable, self-centered fool!” Cora knew she shouted at Braden to siphon away some of her frustration and worry, but the man deserved it. “You’ve been a wretch for weeks on end, and I won’t listen for another minute. Right now we need to help Lacey and Dunstan, so your tantrums will have to wait!”

“Where’s my sister?” he roared back, face shockingly pale beneath his dark hair. Braden leaned forward as though trying to escape the bed, and Cora noticed that his knee was bent farther than he’d managed even with the doctor that morning. “Where’s Lacey?”

Oh, so now you care about your sister? Where was this concern when you let her go to the mines? Cora bit her tongue hard to hold it back.

Blaming Braden for not being able to stop Lacey was like blaming a farmer for not stopping a tornado as it ripped through his corn elds

—ine ective at best and downright dangerous at worst.

“We don’t know.” The words tasted every bit as bitter as those she’d just swallowed. Her best friend was either dead or trapped in a collapsed mine—just like Braden had been a few months before.

“Don’t tell me what you don’t know.” Oddly enough, his snarling comforted Cora. So long as Braden kept on snapping and shouting at her, things seemed almost normal. “Tell me what you do know!”

“I know you need to stop cursing, shouting, sulking, and demanding, Braden Lyman.” Cora matched his glower. “If you’re going to help Lacey, I need you calm enough to think properly.”

“Is she in the mines?” Fear made his pupils so large his eyes looked black. His hand groped for hers for the rst time in months.

“Tell me my sister isn’t in the mines, Cora. Tell me she’s okay.”

“I—” Cora gave a hard swallow, but the tears won this time. She gulped out the words anyway. “I can’t tell you that. No one’s seen Lacey or Dunstan since they left for the mines, and we all know that means she’s in some kind of trouble.” Otherwise Lacey would be rushing like a whirlwind trying to make sure everyone was all right.

Braden closed his eyes, so still it looked as though he wasn’t even breathing. When he opened them, Cora could see he’d banked his fear with determination. “Do we know which entrance they used?”

“Eastern.” Cora pushed pencil and paper into his hands, giving him not only a purpose but something tangible to hold on to while he faced his own memories of the mine collapse. “I assume they thought they might nd more evidence on the side not facing town.”

“That’s the side where I—” His throat worked for a moment before he changed the wording and nished, “—they pulled me out of.”

“I know.” Cora tapped the paper to keep his attention away from whatever horrors lurked in his memory. “Can you draw the tunnels?

Do you remember at all which ones were cleared after the collapse and which were left alone? Once we get past the blockage at the entrance, we’ll probably need to go farther inside to nd them.”

“God help me.” Braden’s eyes shut, and Cora knew he wasn’t swearing this time but genuinely asking for help. “I don’t know which branches they would have cleared out before they reached me. I know what they absolutely would have needed to clear to get there, but the rest … I just don’t know.” His knuckles went white.

“If I could be there—I could tell you. I’d know just by looking.”

“Your memory can go where you can’t,” Cora urged. “Braden, you can still be our guide. Think. When they emptied the tunnels needed to reach you, they shored up the supports, didn’t they? So the strongest places are the only ones Lacey and Dunstan found access to—and the only places we should look. You can help us nd them!”

Cora held her breath as Braden’s pencil crawled across the page, rst hesitantly then with more con dence. A web of lines spidered

away from a single entry point. When Braden’s hand stopped moving, Cora leaned close to peer at his makeshift map.

Her heart sank at the number of tunnels winding away from the entrance, deep into the mountain. It’s more of a maze than a mine.

“Impossible.” Braden’s mutter echoed her fears, making Cora raise her eyes to meet his. But he wasn’t looking at her. He tapped the pencil against the page before crossing through lines with dark Xs.

“Lacey and Dunstan couldn’t have gone this way.”

He only meant one tunnel. Relief had Cora sagging into a chair beside the bed as Braden considered his sketch. It’s not impossible!

“We started to close o this tunnel a week before the collapse.

Found a footwall, decided it was safer to make a transverse passage to the highwall and pull it out from above. Less falling debris that way.” He muttered obscure technicalities to himself, crossing out various branches. “Down here, groundwater kept rising. We made it a sump, to funnel drips from other areas.” He cocked his head to the side and marked out another passage. “We had to abandon this adit when we hit a deep ssure—highly unstable. After the collapse, I wondered if we should have stopped sooner.”

The admission caught Cora’s attention, but Braden fell silent. Cora watched him studying the drawing but wondered what else he was sorting through in his mind. How terrible for him, to shoulder responsibility for the tragedy. And now, when he begins to hope it wasn’t his fault, he’ll feel responsible for Lacey’s fate.

“Here.” He thrust the paper toward her. “It’s all I can do.”

“Thank you. We won’t be going in blindly—and with as much as you’ve crossed out, we won’t waste time.” Cora gave him an encouraging smile, not daring to reach for his hand a second time.

“Go on then.” His irritable dismissal had her speeding to the door so fast she almost didn’t hear the rest. “But come back.”

She clutched the paper to her chest, refusing to turn around and invite the tears again. “You already know I will. I always do.”

“Lacey!” Granger’s woman called a stop to everyone’s hard work.

Michael halted his pickax and held his breath, praying they would hear someone answer her. He knew it wasn’t likely—every single man, woman, and even dog working against this wall of stone knew they fought fate. There were simply too many unknowns.

Were the people they sought—Lacey and Dunstan—even alive?

If they lived, were they awake and in condition to respond?

And if they were so fortunate, how far back were they?

Even given the perfect combination of circumstances, there was every chance the pair was much deeper in the twists and turns of the mines. There was no telling how many mounds of collapsed mountain they may have to get through before nearing the couple.

Worse, there was no telling whether they had enough time to save them. Air might run out. A critical support might buckle.

Despite Mike’s fervent prayers otherwise, the expedition was practically drowning in doubts. He imagined he could smell the sour scent of despair mixed amid the dust. They needed a reason to keep hoping—they needed a sign that God was working alongside them.

“Lacey!” The two women yelled in tandem, forcing their voices through the cracks. But nothing came back. Not so much as a moan.

“Oh God.” Naomi sagged against the boulder, where she’d been working alongside the hunter’s dog. She tugged the bandana—now encrusted with dirt—away from her face, and Mike could see her lips moving in soundless prayer. Dust caked her face, save where tears cut clear paths down her cheeks. Her eyes closed in supplication.

“Dunstan!” Granger’s woman kept on screeching. “Are you there?” When she stopped, it seemed as though the mountain swallowed all sound. Despite the impossible odds, everyone still hoped to hear—

“Esh!” came a mu ed female cry. “Eve wherin ear!”

“Yes!” Naomi clutched at the other woman. “Evie, they’re in there!” The two wrapped each other in a dancing, circling hug.

“Donut drag he live on.” The man’s deeper tones came in echoes, di cult to decipher. “Sum of ewe want him down if you ax to.”

Granger frowned, repeating the sounds in a furious whisper before his brow eased. “Don’t let Draxley leave town.” The rest of it seemed a greater challenge. “Hunt him down if we have to?”

Mike gave a quick nod. Once sounded out, without the distance and the interference, the words made perfect sense. Except for the fact they had no idea why Dunstan would want to hunt Draxley down.

“He won’t go anywhere.” Granger took care to speak slow and loud—apparently not caring that everyone could hear. “Draxley’s just outside the mines, head crushed by a boulder from up the ridge.”

Shaken from their hushed expectation, the men began murmuring to one another. Mike picked up on their shock—but he noticed no one seemed broken up over the loss of the town telegraph operator.

Added to Dunstan’s directive that they hunt him down if necessary, Mike pieced together an un attering portrait of the man—as well as a few suspicions. A telegraph operator had no business lurking around the mines—on the very day Dunstan and Lacey decided to investigate. So what were the chances that this second cave-in was a coincidence?

Mike shook his head and kept his musings to himself. Who wanted to hear half- edged theories from someone new in town?

Nobody. If he turned out to be wrong, he looked insolent and self-aggrandizing. And if he turned out to be right … well, in that case, Hope Falls had enough to worry about without adding in a know-it-all.

The strike of a shovel against a nearby rock demanded his attention. Everyone else was looking at Granger, waiting to be sure the conversation with their trapped townsmen had ended. Everyone, that is, except Naomi. It seemed as though Granger’s

pronouncement shook loose her fears. The people trapped inside the mountain could still be crushed. She gripped the shovel handle with gloves torn enough to show the blood beneath, working feverishly to break through the wall still separating her from her unfortunate friends.

Mike knew he should do the same, should attack the rocky barrier with equal enthusiasm and twice her strength. His hands tightened around the pickax he’d been using to dislodge larger rocks and lever them away. Beneath his leather work gloves, he felt the ridges of the handle where the new tool had yet to be worn smooth by hours of friction. Calloused as his own hands were, the rougher surface hadn’t registered until he spotted Naomi’s gloves.

And now that he’d seen, Mike couldn’t convince himself to turn away and get back to work. There was no way of knowing whether Naomi herself realized the damage—the woman was obviously caught up in the rescue and not giving a thought to taking care of herself. Before they heard the answering call, how long had it been since she’d paused for a breath? When was the last time she drank from her canteen? Mike didn’t know, but he knew it had been too long.

Why hasn’t anyone else noticed? Someone needs to look after the woman. Common sense warred with a surge of protectiveness, cautioning that it wasn’t Mike’s place to step forward. She only turned to you earlier out of shock and grief. To take care of her now would signal an undue interest and arouse suspicion.

He couldn’t a ord to start o on the wrong foot with the residents of Hope Falls. It would jeopardize his chances of bringing Luke to the isolated safety of the town. And as much as it went against the grain to leave a woman hurting, Mike couldn’t risk it.

Lord, You’ve answered many prayers from these parts today, and I’m going to add one more to them. If You can give me an opportunity, any window to stop Naomi from shredding her hands without sacri cing my son’s future, I’ll gladly make use of it.

As he had many times before, Mike lamented that prayers weren’t often answered immediately. He’d never manage to gure out the whys and whens of God’s work, but he knew God heard him.

Sometimes that had to be enough while a body waited for a clearer response.

With a sigh, Mike turned his attention back to the challenge he could handle. Women, with all of their complications, were beyond Mike, but some of his frustration eased with the work at hand. He wedged his pickax beneath the next stone and prized it loose. Too large to roll aside without endangering another worker, the rock had to be hefted over to the makeshift pile of larger rubble.

Setting his load down, Mike glimpsed a gure making its way toward the work crew. He squinted and realized it was the third woman he’d met—the one related to Granger’s woman. He’d noted when she left, but now Mike had a moment to wonder where she’d gone. The girl clipped along at a rushed pace, clutching something in her hands. Whatever she carried, she obviously thought it important.

Too bad I’m not settled enough to be more involved. A powerful curious streak coursed through him, and Mike knew he wouldn’t be able to satisfy many of his questions that day. The girl’s message would be for a select few. Most likely Granger and the women.

Ah! That wasn’t just a girl rushing up the hill—it was the opportunity he needed to get the shovel out of Naomi’s hands!

Mike moved quickly, heading over to let Granger know of the girl’s impending arrival. When the other man and his woman stepped away from their work and went to meet the newcomer, Mike sped over to where Naomi chipped away at the packed earth wedging several rocks in place. So intently did she work, she didn’t hear him clear his throat. She didn’t so much as slow down her furious pace.

“Miss?” Mike raised his voice but didn’t yell at her—the last thing he wanted to do was try to grab her by the arm or waist. He’d watched from the corner of his eye when the lumberjacks joined in.

The small skirmishes as Naomi protected her place made him smile at the time. But now he knew she wasn’t going to take it kindly when he interrupted her work. So he called a couple more times.

The woman wasn’t going to make it easy on him; she kept right on working. When it was clear she couldn’t hear him, Mike knew he’d run out of options. He was going to have to take away her shovel.

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