Love's abiding joy (Love Comes Softly #4) (11 page)

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Chapter Twelve

The Rescue

The weather turned a little cooler, though still too warm for Marty's liking; but at least it was bearable. Missie and Marty kept quite close to the shelter of the house, but Clark rode with the men almost daily. His farmer's heart responded to the wide expanse of hillsides and roaming cattle, and he declared many times his love of the mountains.

Nathan clamored for his fair share of his grandfather's attention. He was anxious to show what he considered his part of the ranch to Clark. As yet, he was not allowed to roam freely on the open range. There were well-worn trails closer to home that he claimed as his own. He had ridden them since he had been a baby carried on his mother's back. Now Josiah had replaced Nathan on Missie's horse, and Nathan was allowed the pleasure of his own pony.

"Could ya ride with me today, Grandpa?" Nathan begged at the breakfast table.

"Well, I shore don't see why not," answered Clark. "I 'spect maybe yer pa will be able to git by without me fer this here one day."

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Nathan took his grandfather's words seriously; "Ya can help him again tomarra," he assured Clark, causing laughter to ripple around the table.

"An' where do we be ridin' today?"

"I'll show ya the west ridge."

"An' are there lots of excitin' things to see on the west ridge?"

Nathan nodded his head vigorously, his mouth was too full of scrambled eggs to speak.

"Well, then," said Clark, "why don't we jest go on out fer a look-see?"

Nathan's eyes twinkled in anticipation. He hurried through his meal and bounced down from the table without asking to be excused.

"What horse shall I tell Scottie to saddle for ya, Grandpa?"

"Nathan," said Willie quietly, indicating Nathan's empty chair.

Nathan crawled back up reluctantly and looked over at his mother, then back at his father. "May I be excused, sir?" he asked, subdued.

Willie nodded and Nathan swung down from the chair. "What horse--" he began, but Clark stopped him with a laugh.

"I think thet Scottie be busy enough without worryin' none 'bout me. I'll saddle ol' Turk when I git down there."

Nathan spun around and was gone. "I'll get Spider," he called over his shoulder as he ran out of the door, then followed it with, "Too bad Joey's too little."

"Joey?" questioned Marty.

Missie laughed. "I thought and thought of a name for my second son that wouldn't be all chopped up in a nickname. I thought that I had one, too. Josiah. Surely no one could shorten that. But I wasn't counting on Nathan. He's called him Joey since the day he arrived."

"I think it's rather nice," Marty mused.

"Well, I guess it's all right--You know what I've decided? I've decided that 'most any name is all right as long as it's spoken with love."

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Marty agreed.

Clark finished his coffee and turned to Willie. "Well, cowboy, it looks like you'll jest have to do yer best to be a-wranglin' without me today. I've got me another pardner."

Willie grinned. "Wish I could come with ya, but I promised Hugh Caly thet I'd ride on over and take a look at some new stock he brought in. Yer lucky to be a-missin' thet ride. It's a long, hot one, an' to save some miles we pass right through some bad cactus territory. Near scratches the clothes right off ya."

"Thet there west ridge sounds better 'n better to me," Clark smiled.

"Nothing much of danger on the west ridge. Thet's why we allow Nathan to ride there. Pretty lifeless over there. Ya'll be lucky to even spy a rattler slitherin' off."

"Well, iffen there be a rattler, I do hope that it slithers off, all right," said Clark. "I still haven't grown overfond of 'em."

"Jest don't surprise 'em," said Willie, "an' you'll be all right."

When Clark reached the barn, Scottie was unobtrusively giving Nathan a hand with the saddling of Spider. Clark went into the corral to bring out Turk. He still wasn't too good with a rope, but he managed to get the horse on the second try.

They saddled up and left the yard, Missie calling to them as they rode out to make sure they both had full canteens.

"Ma always worries," confided Nathan in a whisper, to which Clark responded, "Thet's what mas be for."

They rode to the west, then turned toward the south and followed the ridge for a few miles. There really wasn't much to see but an occasional glimpse at part of the mountain chain as they topped one of the higher hills. Often they could look out to the east and see cattle, as Willie's herd fed its way across the prairie. Once or twice, they spotted a cowboy as he hazed the cattle. The sun was high in the sky when Clark suggested that they pull over in the shelter of some big rocks and eat the lunch Missie had sent along. Nathan seemed to like the idea. The eating time was the most important part of any trail ride. Nathan crawled down from Spider and ground-tied him. Clark did likewise with Turk, looking around cautiously to

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make sure there were no rattlers sharing the rocks with them. He noticed Nathan do likewise.

"If rattlers are here, Grandpa, they'll be in the sun 'stead of on this shady side," he said. "But still Pa says ya always got to check to be sure."

Clark was pleased with the boy's knowledge of his environment and his carefulness.

"How much further we goin'?" asked Clark, as they munched their sandwiches.

"Not much, I guess. Nothin' to see down there 'cept some ol' hills with holes in 'em."

"Ol' hills with holes?"

Nathan nodded.

"What kind of holes?"

"Pa says they used to mine it."

"Mine it?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of mine?"

"Dunno. Pa says fer me to stay away from the holes. He says thet they are dang'rous. Some stuff is gittin' rotten or somethin'."

"Best we stay away from 'em then," agreed Clark, but he planned on asking Willie about the old mines when he got home.

They had just finished their lunch and were gathering things together when they heard an approaching horse. The rider was coming full gallop and Clark stood up to see what the reason might be. One did not usually ride at such pace in the heat of the midday sun.

A young rider approached them, his legs beating at the sides of his horse and his unruly hair flying in the wind. Clark could hear him shout now and then, but he couldn't understand a word he was saying.

"Who's thet?" Clark asked the young Nathan.

For a moment Nathan just stood and stared without answering.

"Who is he? Ya know?" Clark asked again.

Nathan roused then, shaking his head.

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The rider pounded closer, and Clark could plainly hear him sobbing now. Clark stepped forward to be ready to stop the horse when the boy drew near.

"You gotta come!" the frantic boy screamed even before he reached them. "You gotta come quick! Andy and Abe, they--"

He had reached them, and Clark hauled in the lathered horse.

"Whoa there," he said, reaching up in one smooth movement both to pull the horse to a halt and to run a quieting hand over its neck.

"You gotta come--" the boy's voice was agitated and hoarse with emotion.

Clark moved a hand to the boy. "Jest take it easy. Take it easy. We'll come. Now ya calm down some 'n' tell--"

"Abe an' Andy!" cried the boy, tears making tracks down his dust-covered cheeks. "Abe an' Andy are in there." "Take it easy," Clark said again. "Jest tell it slow-like." "We gotta hurry!" the boy barked impatiently.

"We'll hurry," said Clark. "But first we gotta know where to hurry to."

"The mine. The ol' mine shaft--they're in there. It fell on 'em. They'll never git out."

"Where?"

"Over there. We were lookin"em over an' the timbers broke an' the mine fell in--"

But Clark was already gathering the reins of his horse. "Nathan," he said, "can ya ride home alone? Does yer pa ever let ya do thet?"

"Sure," said Nathan, his eyes wide.

"Look, son," said Clark, pulling the boy close. "I want ya to ride on back to the ranch. Tell Scottie, or whoever is around, thet some kids are trapped in a mine. Tell 'em to bring shovels an' a wagon an' come on the double. Ya got thet?"

Nathan nodded his head in agreement, his eyes wide with fright.

"Now ya ride on home. Take yer time--do ya hear? Don't

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try to go fast. Jest take yer time an' be careful. I'm gonna go with this here boy an' help those kids. All right?"

Clark boosted Nathan onto his pony and watched as the small boy headed back to the ranch on the familiar path. He was not concerned about the boy becoming lost. Nathan knew the way well. Clark was worried that panic might cause him to travel too fast and maybe end up in a spill. Nathan turned once to look back at his grandfather. "Remember. Go slow," Clark called to him, and the boy waved his hand.

The sobbing of the boy beside him brought Clark's head around.

"Okay, son. You lead the way. Take it easy. A fall with yer horse won't help yer friends none."

They started for the mine, the boy's spent horse wheezing for breath in choking gasps. Clark found that the mine was farther away than he had hoped.

The boy still cried sporadically. He pushed his horse as fast as the poor creature could go. When they finally reached an opening in the side of a hill, he threw himself off. "They're in there!" he cried. "We gotta git 'em out." Smoke-colored dust still lingered in the air, and Clark

could easily see that recently there had been a cave-in. "You know this mine?" he asked the boy.

"Some," the boy admitted with downcast eyes, and Clark could see that he knew it was forbidden territory.

Some boards that obviously had closed off the cave entrance had been pried off and discarded at the side of its open mouth.

"Tell me 'bout it," Clark said, and as the boy hesitated, Clark took his arm. "Yer friends are in there. Remember? Now I don't know one thing about thet there cave. Tell me 'bout it. Does it have more than one branch? How far back were ya? Did the timbers collapse more'n once?"

The boy responded. "It has three main tunnels. The first one takes off real quick to the right. It's a short one. Don't think thet the miners found anything there, so they jest left it. The second one goes off to the right, too. But the fellas are in the left one. It's the biggest an' was used the most. The timbers

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are really bad in there. The shaft goes down deeper in the left one. Sometimes the steps are real steep an' slippery. We
was
climbin' up an' we kept slippin', so we grabbed hold of the side timbers to pull ourselves, an' thet's when it . . ." He couldn't continue but put his face in his hands and sobbed.

Clark stayed long enough to hold him for a moment. "It's okay. We'll git 'em. Are there any shovels?"

The boy shook his head. "We can use our hands," he snuffled.

"Yer not comin' back in," said Clark, seeing the terror in the boy's face.

"But I gotta," he said through sobs. "I gotta."

"No, yer needed here. They're gonna come from the ranch. Ya need to tell 'em where to go. They'll have shovels. Ya tell 'em too 'bout those rotten timbers. Ya hear?"

The boy nodded. Clark hoped that he would be able to wait calmly without further panic.

Clark gently pushed the young boy to a sitting position on
a
nearby rock. "Ya jest stay right there an' wait fer those men. Now, it might seem a long time 'til they be comin', but they'll be here. Ya jest keep watchin' fer 'em an' wave 'em on over here. Ya okay now?"

The boy nodded again, affirming that he was. His face was still white beneath the smears of dust and tears.

Clark turned and headed for the mine. The door was low and he had to stoop to enter. Old beams above his head appeared as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. The supports looked fairly stable in some places and sagging and broken in others. Clark moved away from the light at the entrance and felt his way along the passage. He had not gone far when he found the first tunnel off to the right just as the boy had described. He continued on, feeling his way with his hands and his feet. A low-hanging beam caught him by surprise and he banged his head against the knotted lumber. For a minute he felt dizzy with the pain, but he steadied himself until he had his bearings. From then on he went forward with one arm outstretched above his head.

Clark ducked his way past other obstructions. How he

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wished for a light. He figured the boys must have used some kind of torches or lanterns to find their way around. Clark discovered the second right-hand tunnel.
Only one more to go,
he told himself. The tunnel should soon swing to the left. After several yards of total darkness, Clark felt the tunnel veer sharply. The smell of dust was heavy in the air now. Clark was forced to stop and tie his handkerchief over his nose. He started down the left fork and soon came to one of the boy's steep places. Catching Clark off guard, before he knew what was happening his feet had slipped out from under him, and he felt himself sliding downward on his back. The rocks cut into him, scraping away shirt and skin. After he had come to a halt and felt cautiously about, Clark regained his feet and pressed slowly forward, testing carefully with his foot before he put his weight on it. Again and again the tunnel took a downward turn, but Clark was ready for them, most only a step or two. And then, just ahead of him, Clark thought he heard a groan. He fell to his hands and knees and felt his way forward.

"Hello," he called. "Hello. Do you hear me? Hello."

Another groan answered him and Clark crawled on.

Soon he was in contact with a slight body. "Do you hear me?" he asked, reaching for the boy's wrist and the pulse. The boy stirred. Clark felt a faint pulsebeat and breathed a prayer of thanks.

"Son," he asked anxiously, "Son. Can you hear me? Are ya awake?"

In answer the boy began to cry. "Ya came," he sobbed. "Ya came."

"It's all right." Clark soothed him, brushing the dirt and debris from around his head and brushing his hair back out of his face. "It's all right. Where are ya hurt? Can ya get up."

"My leg," sobbed the boy. "My leg is caught under thet beam."

"We'll git it out. We'll have it out in no time. Ya jest hang in there."

"Abe," said the boy. "Did ya git Abe yet?"

"Not yet," answered Clark.

Clark began to feel around in the darkness. He had to discover just what was holding the boy's leg. He found the beam,