Prairie Fire, page 20
Like an answer to a prayer, his desperate gaze fell on the flare gun Brown had dropped.
Without thinking, he holstered the Remington and snatched up the flare gun. He spun as gunfire continued erupting from the tree line. Bullets whizzed by and several struck the dirt near him as he ran. A round passed so close that it tugged at the sleeve of his shirt.
Bending down, he snatched up the little wooden box of flares as he sprinted back. He almost ran for the metal cart but realized it was exposed to the mine tunnel where Goldsmith had fled. Instead, he dove for the pile of support timbers where Brown had tried making his own stand.
Luke hoped he’d have better luck.
He landed hard and rolled onto his back, head and shoulders flush up against the wood pile. He fed rounds into both Remingtons, keeping an eye toward the mine as bullets slammed into the wood, kicking up splinters.
He was worried about Katey, but if she’d made the concealment of the bushes and had sense enough to get down, she was already as safe as she could be in a situation like this.
“We got you dead to rights!” one of the men in the trees shouted.
Luke ignored the bait. Instead, he loaded the flare gun. He needed to give the outlaws something to think about other than himself.
Fire worked pretty damn well for that.
CHAPTER 25
Rolling left onto his stomach, into the open at the edge of the pile of timbers, Luke fired the flare gun and sent the brightly burning flare straight into a stand of blue-chip juniper, mountain sage, and cheatgrass. He rolled back as lead stormed at him in return. He loaded the flare gun again.
Luke rolled to his right instead of his left and popped out on the opposite side of the timbers. The maneuver bought him a second and he was able to put the flare directly into creeper vines around the foot of an Engelmann spruce. The oily bush caught almost instantly.
He rolled back. Two flares left. He had a good picture in his head of the edge of the clearing. He didn’t need to expose himself needlessly. He stuck his hand over the wood pile and fired the flare gun on the level. He heard the crackling of growing flames and smelled smoke.
A fusillade of bullets tore into the wood pile. Splinters, sawdust, and wood chips rained down like hail in a storm. The din of the weapons echoed loudly off the rocky surrounding slopes.
Luke waited for a small break in the shooting and then fired the last flare. He dropped the gun and drew a Remington in his right hand. Rifle shots continued striking around him but he thought the number of people firing had dropped off as some of them maybe reloaded.
Luke eyed the mine tunnel, concerned Goldsmith would emerge. He fired four rounds from the Remington, putting them indiscriminately into the opening in hopes of driving him back if the Union colonel was there. He heard his shots ricochet but no one returned fire and he reloaded.
He looked out to his left. A grin split his face. The flares had caught. One ponderosa pine was going up like a Roman candle. Walls of flames the size of buckboard wagons burned, spreading quickly. The fire roared.
Now men began shouting in panic and frustration. Shots continued pouring in at the pile of timbers, but with each moment the fire grew in intensity. Once fire caught hold that strongly in the trees, nothing could stop it until it burned out. Smoke hung like morning fog on the ocean, filling the clearing.
Safe in his cover for the moment, Luke caught his breath and let the fire grow even more. He scanned the trees and shadows on the other side of the stream, hunting for some clue as to where Katey had gone to ground. He saw none.
Men were still yelling, but the shooting petered out as the roaring flames drove the outlaws back. Unable to wait any longer, Luke rose in a crouch and ran toward the creek where he’d sent Katey.
The heat from the flames pulsed like a heartbeat across the clearing. It was reflected back from the rocks and the temperature climbed toward oven-hot. The smoke was harsh and bitter in Luke’s lungs, forcing hacking coughs from him as fingers of it reached out to circle twice around him. The lack of oxygen made him feel slightly light-headed. His irritated eyes ran with tears.
Those naval flares burned at something close to three thousand degrees, Luke knew. He’d never had a doubt they’d catch the trees on fire, but even he had been surprised at the degree to which his ploy had worked. As he waded into the creek, he began worrying that maybe it had worked a little too well.
The snowmelt was cool and the current less strong than it was lower down the hollow. It was a relief when he slipped into it. Crouching to get below the line of smoke filling the clearing, he crossed to the other bank and came out.
“Katey!”
There was no answer. Behind him there was a sound like a runaway train barreling out of a tunnel. The clearing glowed. Flinching away from the heat, Luke turned to see a two-hundred-foot-tall sugar pine go up like a pillar of fire in the Bible. Wood exploded as the heat cooked it.
“Katey!” he shouted.
“Here!”
She answered him from behind a tangle of raspberry vines. He hurried in that direction and saw a cleft in the rock face where she’d burrowed in. Her face and arms were marked with long, angry red scratches.
“Come on!” he shouted.
He had to shout to be heard over the fire. The skin of his face tightened where he was turned toward the conflagration. He’d wanted to go into the mine to follow Goldsmith. Now he realized they needed to reach the mine in order to survive. That meant going back toward the fire, but they had no choice. They weren’t going to be able to outrun the flames.
Katey threw herself into his arms, and he allowed himself a moment to appreciate the feel of her, the feel of her being safe. She clung to him, trembling. There was no time. After a moment he gently pushed her away.
Beyond the wall of flame, a man began screaming. At the far side of where they stood, several bushes caught fire, cooked in the rising heat until they burst into flame. Smoke rolled into the box canyon clearing, making it harder and harder to breathe.
“Follow me!” he shouted over the roar of the fire.
The mine was their only hope. Even if the heat didn’t bake them like biscuits in a Dutch oven, the smoke would asphyxiate them, and if they fell unconscious, they’d never wake.
But it was still their only hope.
He drew his Remington again as he pulled her along after him, back into the water.
As he stepped out onto the far bank, he fired into the mouth of the tunnel three times. If Goldsmith had stubbornly remained close to the opening, that should give him pause. They ran past the cart, lungs burning as they hacked out a seemingly endless series of coughs.
He threw himself against the side post at the opening, keeping Katey safely behind him. Out in the hollow another man screamed. Luke prayed his horse had made it out. Holding the pistol up, he risked a look around the edge.
Orange light illuminated the entrance and penetrated a short distance into the tunnel. The place was old and crumbling. It’d been a number of years since it had been in use. Loose dirt and rock from the tunnel sides and ceiling had fallen, making little mounds on the uneven floor. Water seeped down as if the stone were weeping and formed small puddles that eerily reflected the apricot light of the wildfire.
Beyond the first twenty feet lay only blackness. He saw no sign of Goldsmith.
“Let’s go,” Luke said. His voice was very grim.
They entered the mine, and the deafening cacophony of the wildfire was almost instantly muffled by tons of rock and earth. The light from behind them cast their shadows large on the visible rock. Letting go of Katey’s hand, Luke took down an old lantern hanging from a spike just inside the entrance.
Smoke from outside had begun creeping into the tunnel. The cooler air was keeping it closer to the ground, but it was rising fast.
Pulling a lucifer match from his front search pocket, Luke struck it and miraculously the old lantern lit.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Katey asked.
Luke heard the fear in her voice.
“We have to go at least a little further back,” he explained. “We have to go deeper than the smoke can reach until the fire dies down.”
She nodded, face pinched with anxiety. Luke felt his heart go out to her. She was barely more than a girl. She’d suffered a lot in a short time and reacted bravely. He admired her heart.
“It’s going to be okay,” he told her. “I promise.”
She nodded again and squeezed his hand for reassurance.
“Just don’t leave me.”
“I won’t, I swear.”
He set the lantern down and reloaded the Remington. When he was done, he handed the gun to the girl.
“Here,” he said. “You know how to use it?”
She nodded.
“Good. Stay behind me and don’t fire unless you have to.”
Drawing the second revolver, he shifted it to his right hand and picked up the lantern. The mouth of the mine was definitely filling up with smoke. There was no time to waste. He advanced slowly, the lantern thrust out before him and at an angle.
He was painfully aware of how good a target he must make. He cocked the Remington.
The shaft ran in a straight line on an ever-increasing downward slope. Little effort seemed to have been put into keeping the mine in good repair. Luke only found a few places where newer beams had been fitted to shore up the walls. The entire operation had the feel of a death trap about it.
What sounded like a woman’s shriek pierced the gloom and lifted the hairs on the back of Luke’s neck. He stopped short, and Katey pressed in close behind him. The reverberation of the scream bounced down the tunnel past them.
“What the hell was that?” Katey got out.
“I think it was a cougar,” Luke said. “Hopefully it’s making short work of Goldsmith.”
But they heard no shots or screams as they moved forward. It confirmed his suspicion that Goldsmith had fled and not stuck around.
“Did Goldsmith talk about another exit from this mine?” he asked.
Katey shook her head. “Not that I heard.”
They pushed forward, the lantern lighting the way before them. After a few yards they came to a narrow branching shaft, obviously dug to follow a now-depleted vein of ore. Luke stopped and studied the ground, looking for some sign as to which way Goldsmith had fled.
From the left-hand branch, a deep yowling growl emerged and adrenaline seeped into Luke like water soaking cloth. Cautiously, he lifted the lantern. Its glow crept up the branch tunnel.
Demonic yellow eyes appeared. Luke almost pulled the trigger on the Remington. He lifted the lantern a little higher. The tawny colored panther crouched on the tunnel floor, which was littered with pine needles. Six-inch fangs gleamed in the lantern light. The feline face was drawn back in a terrifying snarl. It was poised to spring.
Luke saw two dusky brown balls of fur tumbling over each other in their haste to retreat. The mountain lion was a mother with cubs. That strange, savage yowling built to a rising crescendo in its chest.
“It’s a mother with cubs,” he told Katey. “Start backing up slow. Don’t run.”
Katey said nothing but he felt her slowly retreating behind him. He took a careful step backward. The musty, wild stench of the beast and its fetid kills rankled in his nose.
“Easy,” he told the big cat in a soothing voice.
It was the voice he used on frightened horses. He hoped it worked on cougars, too. He took a cautious step back. The big cat hissed at him, tail snapping back and forth. His finger rested on the smooth metal curve of the pistol’s trigger. He didn’t want to kill the cougar. Knew it was stupid not to, but couldn’t bring himself to gun the thing down. If he did, he might as well go over and stomp the kittens to death.
Luke seriously doubted Goldsmith had harbored any similarly merciful compunctions. He had to admit it had been clever of the colonel to leave the big cat alive to slow him down. It raised his suspicions even more that there was a second way out of the mine.
He stepped back and the angry cat hissed a warning. Katey had stepped around the lip of the branch and into the main shaft. Luke smoothly followed her.
“Walk a few yards,” he told her. “I’ll catch up.”
She did as instructed. Luke followed more slowly, still backing. If the cougar came around that corner it would be attacking and moving at speed. He’d likely have only a heartbeat of time to shoot before it was on him. He couldn’t afford to turn his back.
The low chest-growl of the cougar echoed weirdly off the rock. Luke went farther into the mine. The cat let loose an ear-splitting scream that sounded for all the world like a woman in agony. Luke shuffled deeper. After several moments he felt confident enough to turn around.
“I can’t believe we made it,” Katey said. Her voice was breathless, as if she’d run a race.
“Murderous lunatic in front of us, angry mama cat with cubs behind us,” Luke sighed. “We’re right where we want to be.”
CHAPTER 26
They moved down the tunnel. Luke could no longer smell the smoke. As they made their way deeper into the mine, he grew more and more convinced that Goldsmith was gone. After a couple of minutes, they came to a spot where the shaft bisected a natural cavern about the size of a house.
Tools now thick with dust had been stockpiled there. Coils of rope lay next to bundles of picks and shovels. There were several overturned wheelbarrows scattered about. The place had seen far less traffic than the front of the mine and Luke clearly saw the bootprints leading across the floor. Against one wall several wooden crates were stacked.
An eerie, otherworldly keening that seemed tinged with sadness floated out of the darkness. Luke stopped as the wail reverberated through the supply chamber. It sounded like mournful voices calling out in lamentation.
“I-i-is that another cat?” Katey whispered.
“No. Just the wind.”
“This is Golgotha mine,” Katey said. “The first mine they sank, the one that started the town.”
“So?”
“So Golgotha is from the Bible. It means Place of Bones, or something. They named it after the Indian burial ground outside.”
“Makes sense.”
“A cave-in killed thirteen miners three years ago. They never recovered the bodies. I heard all about it in town. People still talk about it.”
“It’s not ghosts,” Luke said.
Despite him being convinced of that, when the ululating moan drifted from the darkness, the hair along the back of his arms stood up. Don’t be stupid, he told himself. There’s no such thing as ghosts. It was an unnerving sound, though, and he’d be glad to hear the last of it.
“Come on,” he told Katey.
They left the big chamber and once again entered the bleak darkness of the main tunnel as it continued on. They no longer smelled smoke, but now an oppressive musty odor formed around them. The wailing peaked and waned. He began to feel the sensation of being watched. The drip of water in the distance sounded unnaturally loud. Almost oppressive. Their breathing was loud in his ears. The walls of the mine were uncertain, threatening collapse. The thought of being buried alive made it difficult to breathe.
They came to a second fork in the shaft. In front of them, it ran downward into an abyss-like darkness. To the left, it continued straight, and he could hear the moaning sounds coming from that direction. He closed his eyes and felt air on his face.
“This way,” he said.
They had barely started along that branch of the tunnel when the sound of a pistol being cocked echoed from the darkness beyond the lantern light’s reach. Cold, distinctly metallic, and utterly unmistakable.
The sound saved Luke’s life. If Goldsmith had been thinking clearly enough to have cocked the single action weapon before they penetrated this far into the mine, the outcome could have been much different.
Luke, already poised for action and tightly wound, dropped the lantern and threw himself backward into Katey. She screamed and staggered back.
The gun went off with a thunderous roar that slammed against Luke’s ears like giant fists. The ricochet whined off rock and made a meaty splat as it struck the young whore. She screamed again as Luke grabbed her and bore her to the ground. The echoes from the gunshot created a terrible clamor in the tunnel. Luke came up on one knee, his body shielding hers just on the edge of the yellow glow from the lantern, which, surprisingly, hadn’t gone out when Luke dropped it.
The Remington came up and exploded in the uncertain light, muzzle flashes splitting the gloom like lightning strikes. Bullets burned down the tunnel. The ground rumbled beneath him, and Luke felt his stomach drop away in fear as he realized just how unstable the mine was.
Dirt fell from the ceiling like rain. More dirt poured out to the floor as a section of one of the walls gave way. Katey was sobbing from the pain of her wound. There was no time to be gentle. Luke turned and shoved, pushing her into motion.
“Go! Go! Go!” he shouted.
Behind him Goldsmith kept firing. Bullets whizzed past above them. Luke shoved Katey forward, then threw himself on top of her as she fell. He felt the dampness of her blood soak his clothes, but he couldn’t tell where she was shot.
“I’ll bring the whole damn thing down, Jensen!” the outlaw shouted.
More dirt streamed down, followed by head-sized rocks. Goldsmith emptied his pistol and the sides of the shaft began to cave in. With a sudden crash that section of roof collapsed and plunged several thousand pounds of dirt and rock into the tunnel. Dust filled the tight space, and Luke choked on it.
Beneath him, Katey coughed violently, fighting for air as dust filled her mouth and nose. Tremors reverberated through the tunnel, shaking the floor beneath them. Timber joists groaned in protest. They sounded like wailing ghosts. Luke hugged Katey and waited for the world to come to an end—or not.
After a moment, the tremors stopped. Luke lay still, listening to the streams of loose dirt and pebbled rock spill out into the tunnel. Gradually the dust began to settle, and it was easier to breathe.
