Colorado Dawn (19 page)

Karen fought her way upward through clouds of fog, forcing her mind to push through layers of cotton batting. A dull ache pressed against the backs of her eyes. She opened her eyelids a crack. Or at least she thought she did.

Nothing.

She lifted her sluggish hand up to make sure her eyes were open. They were.

But where had the light gone? Where was she?

Her breath came faster as she struggled to see even the tiniest spark of light. Before she could stop it, a scream rose in her throat.

Someone clamped a hand over her mouth.

She flailed, fighting to break free of the iron-hard arms that imprisoned her.

“Karen! Stop it! Karen, it’s me, David!”

She stilled, her muscles stiff.

His hand eased away, and she tried to suck in a breath, but it snagged somewhere in the top of her lungs. She tried again, blinking and turning her head. She raised her hand in front of her nose but couldn’t bring an image into focus. “David, help me! I…I…I can’t see!” Her voice echoed, and she scrabbled against his shirtfront, seeking an anchor in the blackness. “I can’t see.” This time her words came out a whispered plea.

He clasped her to his chest, forcing her head onto his shoulder and stroking her hair. “Shhh. I’ve got you.” He rubbed his chin against her hair. “You’re not blind. We’re in a mine. There’s no light down here. He must’ve taken the lantern with him.”

Karen clung to him, trying to make sense of his words. She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them wide, straining every muscle for the faintest glimmer of an outline, a form, anything in the dark. Her heart thundered in her ears. The blackness was a malignant thing, pressing against her. Her only point of reference was the security of her husband’s arms. A mine? Why?

Memory came roaring back. “David, it was Marcus! He found me walking back from the greenhouse. He grabbed me.” She grimaced. “He pressed a wadded cloth over my face, and there was a strange odor. I tried not to breathe it, but I must have. I don’t remember anything after that.” She pushed herself upright. “Did he do the same to you?” If only she could see his face. If only she could see anything.

“I’m afraid Marcus chose a more violent method to render me unconscious. He bashed me in the head.”

“Are you hurt?” Her fingers flew, touching him, trying to find signs of injury.

His hands captured hers. “I’m fine, dearest. A little headache and some sore ribs, but nothing terrible.” He pressed his lips to her fingers. “Are you hurt anywhere?” He brushed a kiss on her temple, and she pushed against his chest.

“How hard did Marcus hit you?” Her fingers moved upward, feeling the strong line of his jaw and the swelling and dried blood on his temple.

“Are you thinking I’ve lost my senses, darling?”

A lump formed in her throat. How she wished she could see his face, to judge for herself.

A chuckle—a chuckle!—leaked from him.

“You don’t seem entirely yourself.” What would she do if he truly was addlepated?

He hugged her close, rubbing his chin across the top of her head. “I certainly hope not. Karen, there’s so much I need to say to you, so much to apologize for, but there isn’t time. Suffice it to say, Marcus bashing me on the brainpan has finally brought me to my senses.” He took her face between his palms and kissed her forehead. “I’ve made my peace with God, and the instant we’re out of this mine shaft, I intend to begin to make amends to you. I’ve been a complete and utter fool where you are concerned, and I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and start over. Oh, Karen, we have so much to talk through, but for now, we need to see about trying to get out of here.”

Her breath hitched and the hollow, fluttery feeling behind her breastbone grew. “Do you think we can find our way out? Even in all this blackness?”

“The darkness won’t matter to me. And remember, it doesn’t matter to God. He sees us, He knows right where we are, and He can help us get out of here.”

He brushed a kiss across her hair, and she wanted to weep at the miraculous change in him.

“Ready?”

“I think so, but which way?”

“Marcus’s footsteps faded out to our right. If we go that way, we can be reasonably sure we’re at least heading topside and not farther into the mine.” He helped her to her feet. “I’ll need both my hands free, but we don’t want to get separated. Keep hold of my belt, and keep one hand on the side of the tunnel. If you stay right behind me, I can warn you about any low-hanging rocks or crossbeams.”

Karen stumbled. “I can’t seem to maintain my balance. I’ve never been in such utter darkness.”

“That’s how I felt at first, too, right after the accident. Maintaining your balance does get easier after a while. Brace your feet wide apart and put one hand on the wall. Now, grab my belt, and we’ll walk a few paces.”

David kept one hand above and in front of his head, and with the other, he maintained contact with the wall. The last thing he needed was to bash his already aching noggin on a crossbeam. Their footsteps echoed off the solid rock all around them, distorting distances and filling their ears. Every twenty or so paces, he stopped to listen, but only the sounds of their own breathing filled his ears.

David vaguely recalled the tremor and impact of what had to be Marcus blowing the entrance to the mine, but surely that would’ve drawn some attention. The family had to know he and Karen were missing by now, and they would be out searching. If David could find the mouth of the mine, would it be choked with rock and debris too thick for them to dig out? Perhaps the mine had more than one entrance or ventilation shafts. He knew he was grasping at thin straws, but what choice did they have? If they waited for rescue, they would die. If they wandered this rocky maze until exhaustion overtook them, they would die.

God, help us. You know where we are, and You know how to get us out of here. Guide our steps and lead us
. Prayer was the only thing that kept despair at bay.

“How are you doing?” David stopped once more and reached behind him for her hand. She’d not uttered a single complaint as they inched along.

She gripped his hand and moved until his arm encircled her. Her head burrowed into his neck. “How far do you think we’ve come?” Her voice sounded small and weary.

“I wish I knew.” They had to go so slowly, for fear of stepping off into space and plummeting down a vertical shaft. If only the mine would’ve had a narrow-gauge track, they could’ve followed it easily. He racked his brain for any clue as to where Marcus might’ve dumped them, but the slopes around Martin City were riddled and honeycombed with burned-out mining holes, and most had been plundered for any equipment and gear to aid in the next quest for treasure. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze, then directed her hand to his belt in the back and started off again.

Karen stumbled. “Whatever Marcus drugged me with seems to be lingering. I can’t think clearly.”

“It might be the darkness.” He talked to keep her spirits up. “Right after the accident I had a terrible time just organizing my thoughts. You’ll be fine once we get you out into the light.” He injected his voice with confidence, though his mind cringed at the reality of their situation. He couldn’t tell if they were still heading the same way Marcus had gone. If they missed one side tunnel, they could wander down here until they dropped.

A faint, low rumble tickled his ears. He halted, straining to fix the origin of the sound, his heart in his throat as memories of the cave-in bombarded him. The tremor, the groan of rock, the cascading boulders and splintering wood—he stopped his stampeding thoughts and concentrated on the sound.

Water.

They edged along until the low rumble became a louder roar, the unmistakable sound of water falling into a pool. David turned and put his hands on Karen’s shoulders. “Wait here. Sit down and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

“Can’t I go with you?” She latched on to his hand.

“I’ll only go a few paces. I need to check things out. I don’t want to risk your tumbling into an underground river. Wait here and don’t move.” He squeezed her fingers and brought them to his lips. “I’ll be right back, Karen. I promise.”

Feeling with a probing toe and keeping one hand on the roughhewn rock wall, he crept toward the sound of the rushing water. The overhead lowered, and he had to hunch down, holding his bent arm over his forehead. Spray misted his skin, and the sound of the rushing water filled the rock-crevice and ricocheted. His foot swung over nothing, and he stopped and knelt.

Easing onto his stomach, he stretched his arm over the edge. The icy current caught his hand, dragging it from left to right. He could put his arm in up past the elbow, yet he couldn’t touch the bottom. It was impossible to judge how deep it was. Sitting up, he grabbed a handful of pebbles and one by one he threw them in an arc around himself. Stone pinged on stone each time and plopped into the water. He retraced his steps.

“Karen,” he called to her before he reached her. “Karen.”

“I’m here.” Her hands scrabbled for him, grasping on to his sleeve as if to a lifeline.

He put his arms around her. “We can’t go that way. There’s an underground waterfall and stream. I threw some rocks to see if the tunnel continued on the other side of the water, and there’s nothing there but solid rock. I couldn’t feel the bottom of the stream with my arm. The miners must’ve quit this tunnel when they hit the stream. We can drink here, but we’ll have to go back and see where we missed a side tunnel. This is a dead end.”

“A dead end.” She spoke woodenly, as if her lips were stiff.

“Come on, Karen. We’ll look on it as a blessing. We needed water, and we found it.” He took her hand. “The overhead is low, so watch your head. And drink plenty. It might be awhile before the next water.”

The jagged rock wall scraped Karen’s fingertips, and her back ached. She tried to wet her lips, but her mouth was so dry. How long had it been since the stream? How many tunnels branched off this one? Were they in the main tunnel, or were they once again nearing another dead end?

When the third tunnel they’d tried ended in a solid rock wall, she wanted to sag to the ground and admit defeat. “Can we stop for a while?” She hated to ask. Stopping meant delaying their escape, but her legs wobbled and she knew she needed to rest.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, just tired. I’m sure if I rest for a minute, I’ll be fine.”

“Come here.” He took her elbow and eased to the floor, scooting until his back rested against the wall. He eased her down between his outstretched legs and pulled her back against his chest. His arms came around her shoulders and crossed under her chin.

Warmth and comfort enveloped her, and she leaned her head back. “How far do you think we’ve come?” Sleep tugged at her eyes, tired from straining to see in the darkness. She closed them, relaxing, her limbs growing leaden.

“I wish I knew. I wish I knew how far we had to go.” He yawned and apologized.

“I’m sleepy, too. It feels like the middle of the night. What time do you think it is?”

“I had the same feeling, of it being night, I mean. When I tried to check the hands on my watch, they hadn’t moved, so I think it’s broken. I must’ve landed on it when Marcus dumped me on the floor. If our senses are telling us it’s night, it probably is.” He yawned again, this time not bothering with an apology. “Rest, Karen. You’ll need your strength. I’ll wake you in an hour or so.”

W
e need to get moving again, Karen.”

Reluctant to wake, she snuggled closer into his embrace and wrapped her arms about his waist.

“Karen?” He stroked her cheek. “Wake up.”

She eased upright, still caught in the gossamer wisps of a delightful dream—a dream where sunlight shattered in rainbows over everything in brilliant, vivid colors. David laughed and teased as he walked beside her under a never-ending sky, his hands in his pockets and his hat pushed back at a jaunty angle.

Then she opened her eyes. Total darkness. Persistent damp and grit. A cold wind blew through her chest, and the blackness pressed around her like an inky shroud. She knelt, hunching her shoulders and wrapping her arms at her waist with her head bowed. Reality obliterated the last shreds of her dream.