Jasper Mountain (37 page)

Pete caught Jack’s eye. “Tuesday night, then. We’ll draw it up and take a vote on who’ll take it to Creely.”

Another petition. To replace the one Victor had torn to shreds. Except this document would never hide under the floorboard in the church.

“There is always the chance Victor will read my proposal and decide to implement it.”

“No offense, Buchanan, but he’s probably wipin’ his ass with it,” Harley said. His comment drew sniggers and barks of laughter.

“I hope not.” Jack grinned, a twisted expression, he knew. “But you’re probably right.”

“I pity the idiot who agrees to take the petition to him,” Digger said.

“No need to wonder. I’m the idiot who’ll take it,” Jack said. “And I’ll do a better job this time. Especially when he rips it to shreds.”

“This time you’ll have us all openly behind it,” Pete said. “Nothing held in secret after tonight. He’ll have all of us to answer to. By the time he sees the petition, we’ll be done with closed doors.”

“If he does tear it up agin, what’ll we do?” Digger asked.

“We’ll decide on Tuesday. My vote will be to walk out,” Jack answered. “Shutting down the mine is the only thing Creely’s gonna understand.”

Everyone shook hands, Digger, Pete, Gentleman Bill, Harley, and Jack. Once they left the room, something big and unstoppable would spring into motion. Jack certainly wanted to be around to see it all. He thought of Tom and Stoop, and hoped he wouldn’t be the next in a lineup of disappearing miners.

At least if he vanished, everyone would have some idea of what happened. Jack Buchanan would live on forever, a martyr. Perfect. How did he ever get to this place?

He regarded all the faces, character carved by the hardships of life, and he knew this was where he’d always choose to stand, and should have a long time ago.

The group decided to leave, slipping out at different times and spreading around the bar. Jack was the first to go, the plan to bellyup for a drink while the others ducked out after him, one by one with plenty of time in between. When Pete left, he’d be the last one and join Harley and Gentleman Bill outside to walk back to the Nugget Hotel. Digger would collect Mouse and wait for Jack at the clinic only a few doors down. Quite a bit of choreography, but everyone was intent on working together, and it was amazing what they accomplished when they weren’t arguing and accusing each other.

The plan was perfect and included a chance to see Milena again. Even if it would be in a clinic with others around, he wanted to be near her as much as possible before …

Before what? This direction didn’t feel good. Right, but not good.

It annoyed Jack that Mouse hung around in the saloon tonight, but Jack knew keeping him away was next to impossible, especially with Pete and Gentleman Bill here. Jack slipped out into the noise. His eyes skimmed over the crowd to the piano. Mouse leaned against the console. Good. Sally had kept her word, as had the piano man. He passed and dropped a dollar in the jar, a tip for keeping watch over Mouse.

“Hey, looky who’s granting us his presence. Howdy, Jack.” Luke slapped an empty space beside him at the bar. “A whiskey for my friend, and make it top shelf, Sam.”

Sam turned over a glass and filled it.

Jack wandered over. “Not much to do with the Boarding House gone, huh?” Jack asked, needling Luke.

“Nope.” He tossed back his shot. “Isabella St. Bitch fired me. Said I shoulda been at my post. She’s cheap is all. Tired of payin’ me.”

“My guess is her money burned down with the whorehouse,” Sam said.

“By the way, Luke, where were you that night?” Jack tossed back his own drink.

“I was there, helpin’ out. Where the hell else would I be?”

Funny, Jack didn’t recall seeing Luke anywhere near the chaos. Then again, Jack was in no position to remember much of anything.

Luke giggled and slapped the bar. “Keep ‘em comin', Sammy boy.”

Jack hoped he blended in and was acting normal. He felt as obvious and unnatural as a snowstorm in July. Sam poured Luke’s glass first and then grabbed the Kentucky bourbon.

“Just give me the usual,” Jack said.

“No, no, the best for Jack Buchanan,” Luke insisted, and that’s when Jack paused. He and Luke were drinking from different bottles. Luke and Sam might be in on it.

In on what? Victor Creely’s henchmen were officers. Like Bear, whom he’d seen when he came out of the back room. Jack looked behind him. Sure enough, Bear leaned against the wall, scowling at him. When Jack caught his eye, the big man grinned, revealing several missing teeth. Jack turned back around and Luke slapped him on the back, grinning. Jack grimaced as his burns pained under Luke’s palm. Sam smiled, too, and refilled Jack’s glass. Christ, what was this, a smiling contest? Something sure didn’t feel right.

With Bear keeping such close tabs on him, naturally he’d feel uneasy. He’d known Sam and Luke since he’d come to Jasper. Both had become friendly acquaintances when others shunned him. A bit of guilt bolted through him at his disloyal thoughts. Didn’t matter. He’d had enough anyway. Only one drink and he felt fuzzy.

“Guess I’ll get going,” he said.

“Hey, what about this one?” Luke asked, gesturing to the filled glass.

“One’s enough for me tonight, but thanks.”

“Anytime, Jack.” The sardonic grin again. Why did all of Jasper seem like he viewed it through a freak-show mirror? He was relieved to step out into the clear night, and in a few moments he’d see Milena. It might take some time to make Mouse understand he needed to stay at the Nugget Hotel, but really, communicating with the kid wasn’t difficult. Jack guessed he dreaded the look of disappointment he’d see on the kid’s face.

He stepped off the wood walk and crossed the muddy street.

Suddenly he slammed up against the side of the General Mercantile. Behind him, Luke laughed.

“Jack, I really wished you’da downed that second drink. I wouldn’t have to do this.”

The night exploded into a million shards.

Then black.

H
old!” A faraway echo. Black. Then red. Next, pain. Jack thought he might be stuffed in a barrel. He was bent double, his knees tucked up under his chin. He leaned forward and fell, smacking his already throbbing head. Dirt. Nausea. He rose to his hands and knees in time to throw up. Clinking on rock. “Hold!”

An echo-edged voice sliced through his pain. Closer. Still only black. Jack crumpled to his side, careful not to fall facefirst into his own vomit.

A flicker from a distance. A cart clattered on a track.

Lord, have mercy, he was in the mine. But where? Why was he separated from his team? His head burned like a pile of hot coal, dizziness and nausea twirled together. He rose to his hands and knees and threw up again, this time, loud and coughing.

“Hey, I hear something.”

A dim glow down the tunnel. Jack wanted to shout out, but he couldn’t. He crawled a few inches, leaned over on his side, and closed his eyes. He wanted to die.

“Careful,” he warned himself. Pain shot through his head, but at least his stomach didn’t roll as violently.

“Anyone down there?” Pete hollered from somewhere down the tunnel.

“Pete,” Jack murmured, too quietly, he knew, for anyone to hear. What happened to him? Was he working and a rock hit him in the noggin? Where was his hardboil?

“Anyone down there?” Pete yelled again.

“Here,” Jack spoke with all his strength, which was almost none. He moaned.

“Bill, I think someone’s down there.”

The dim glow grew bigger, brighter, and then separated into floating lights coming closer.

“It ain’t Jack, is it?” Digger’s voice, hopeful. “Here,” Jack said a bit louder. “Hallelujah!” “Jack!”

Someone lifted him to his feet, arms held him. Mouse hugged Jack around the waist, tightly.

“Glory be, we thought you was dead!” Digger said. In the background, Rolf looked on, his face sour beneath his hat’s candle. Gentleman Bill was just about to giggling.

“Where you been, Buchanan? How did you get down here?” Pete asked. “We thought you were a goner when you didn’t show up at the clinic.”

Clinic? Milena. The meeting. The drinks. Christ, Luke.

Panic shivered through him and he tried to yell for them all to get out. Instead, he retched again. Dry heaves. Pete and Digger lowered him to his hands and knees.

“Out. Out,” was all he managed.

“Jesus, Jack. What’s wrong with you?” Worry shot through Digger’s voice.

“Let’s get him up top,” Pete ordered.

“Get. Out. Now!” Jack finally managed.

Pete hauled him to his feet. Suddenly from beneath them, a deep rumble grew. The mountain shook. Impossible, yet it shook. For a split second, no one moved. Jack locked eyes with Digger, whose face tightened with disbelief. Then the tunnel floor bucked. Digger tumbled backward into Rolf. Mouse lurched and fell to the ground.

A huge, invisible hand swept through and knocked down every man standing. The ground opened up, and the floor dropped into nothing. Dark exploded. The mountain finally claimed retribution and wrapped them all in its smothering grip.

“How long has she been back there?” Milena asked the doctor.

He sighed. “Since Isabella tossed her out. She has nowhere else to go.” Ambrose’s eyes, lately sorrowful, looked apologetic.

“You are a kind man, Doctor.”

“And it gets me nowhere, Milena. This is not a kind world.”

She touched his hand. “Yes, it is, as long as there are men like you in it.” She nodded at the back room. “Why has she not come out? Because of the proprietress?”

“I can’t even get her out of bed. She just stares at the wall. Other than wandering every so often, she is completely uncommunicative. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Perhaps I can help.”

“I’m ready to try anything, and I will admit, you do have a way about you, my dear.”

“So I am told.”

His mouth turned up a touch at the corners, which gave Milena hope for him. He still existed, the happy, romantic doctor, somewhere beneath all the sadness.

He led her back to the locked door and withdrew a key from his waistcoat. Once inside, smells assaulted her, pungent herbs, spices, the blunt scent of antiseptic and soap. He opened the door at the other end of the space and lit a candle. Another small closet behind the first one contained only a bed with a girl under the blanket. Her eyes did not focus. A tear rolled down her cheek and fell to the pillow. Although heartbreaking, the tear was a good sign. Somewhere inside this shell of a young woman, Beth still lived.

“Beth.” Milena sat on the bed and took the girl’s hand. It felt like Cassandra’s; cold, stiff, as if no blood flowed, no heart beat.

“Beth.”

No response. Beth’s eyes focused on nothing. “She’s been like that since I found her. Someone brought her to the back door and took off. “Had she been injured?” “Nothing I can see.” “We can be thankful for that much.”

“Anything might have happened to her. Any number of scenarios. Because she’s wandered a few times I did think of locking this door from the outside, but if anyone had been locked in the Boarding House when—”

Darkness, pouring over, nothing left, nothing. Death comes to claim its own.

Milena staggered to her feet, the girl in the bed forgotten.

“Milena, what is it?”

She didn’t take time to answer, but bolted out the back door. “Milena!” the doctor called out. She did not slow, but ran toward Jasper Mountain.

A muffled explosion fills her ears. The ground trembles, and evil laughs across Jasper with a booming chuckle. She stumbles, and then a huge, invisible fist slams into her.

“Milena!” The doctor caught her when she flew back, and they both fell to the ground.

Darkness presses around her. Try as she might, she cannot breathe. She struggles to dig out, but rock folds, pulling her into a coffin’s embrace. She cries against the dirt and it pours in her and through her. She is buried alive.

“Milena, what is happening to you?”

She reaches out to the cloaked stranger who will carry her to the Otherworld. He beckons with tapered, ivory fingers, and she grasps his cold hand. Quickly, she pleads. Do not let me suffer this slow death. He pulls her to him like an anxious lover.

“Milena!”

She opened her eyes to the doctor’s face framed by light blue sky. Sun. Air. Milena sat up, blinking against morning light. Around her, birds sang. A breeze with a hint of cool gently teased her skin.

“Milena?” Ambrose asked. “What happened to you?” “Did you hear that? Feel it?” The panic of the unknown edged her voice.

“Feel what?”

“The explosion. The ground shook.”

“Nothing like that happened. The ground is solid, you see.” Ambrose looked at her with the benevolence usually reserved for a child. “You must have imagined it.”

Behind the doctor, Jasper Mountain rose, solid and constant. Yet the serene quiet hid horrors. Of this, she was sure. An avalanche of fear had come rolling down over her and across the town. And all Milena could think of was—

“Jack!” she whispered, praying for the mountain to spare him. Even as she spoke his name, she knew it was too late.