The Promise (39 page)

"I think so."

"Well, my boy, where is it?"

Cara cocked her head to listen. There was something
in Owen's voice that bothered her. In fact, now that she thought
about it, it was more than that. Something about his reaction to
the whole thing was off.

"The note? I don't have it."

"Where is it?" There was a chord of urgency in the
older man's voice.

"Patrick has it."

Owen coughed, but Cara would have sworn it started
out as a curse. "Really? I assumed of course, since you're up here,
that you'd have it."

"Well." She could hear the smile in Michael's voice.
"I do have it. Sort of."

She realized he was teasing Owen. Michael had
memorized the short note. Just to make sure Amos couldn't get his
hands on it. She waited for him to enlighten his friend.

"It's in here." She turned around in time to see him
pointing at his head, a boyish grin on his face.

"Well, why didn't you say so. Let's get up there."
Owen's face was positively jubilant. Again, Cara had the feeling
there was something false about it. She pushed the thought aside.
Her adventures were making her cynical. This was Owen after all.
Michael's Owen.

"Hang on. Cara's not in any shape to go up there.
We're better off waiting for Patrick."

"But we don't know when he'll be here." Owen sounded
petulant. He glanced over at Cara, looking quite apologetic. "Do
forgive me, my dear, I wasn't thinking."

She stacked the clean cups in front of Owen's
rucksack. "It's all right. Besides, I'm fine. If you all want to go
up there, I'm game." She paused, looking across the stream at the
turning station. "As long as we take the ground route."

Michael frowned at her, his eyes exploring her from
head to toe. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine, really. After everything we've been
through, a little acrobatics over Shallow Creek is a drop in the
bucket." She winced at her own bad pun.

"Very funny."

Owen stood up. "It's decided then. We head for the
mine, using ground transportation, of course." He smiled over at
Cara conspiratorially. "I never much cared for those ore buckets
myself."

They were well on their way over the mountain before
Cara realized what it was that had been bothering her. At no time
during their discussion of Amos and the silver had Owen asked about
Michael's mother. Granted, it probably wasn't as big an issue for
him as it was for her sons, but according to Michael, he'd been
close to her.

Surely, he should have at least asked about her.
Didn't he want to know what had really happened to Rose?

*****

Cara's first thought was that it was
amazingly dark. In her time, the historical society had worked
overtime to try and make the mining museum in Silverthread
accurate. To the point of countless arguments about the lighting.
In the end, they'd settled on lighting so low it was sometimes
impossible to see the exhibits clearly. Accuracy over practicality.
She blinked against the dark. Compared to the Promise, the museum
was brighter than a floodlit ballpark.

They stood at the bottom of the mineshaft in the main
tunnel of the first level. Cara looked at the candle in her hand.
It barely illuminated her arm, let alone the cavernous dark. She
shivered, remembering the cave-in at the other mine.

The Promise was easily four or five times bigger than
the little tunnel where'd she'd first met Michael. And a heck of a
lot darker. Peering into blackness, she imagined she could see the
light from the opening she knew was at the far end of the tunnel.
The one leading to the tramway. Granted it wasn't much of an escape
route—unless you counted the high-wire slalom—but it was better
than being trapped in all this darkness.

The candle-holder was interesting. A wrought iron
affair, with a hook just below the candle, and a long pointed stake
coming off of the hook. The stake allowed a miner to thrust the
holder into the wall. The hook formed a handle for carrying or a
convenient way to hang the candle from any protrusion. Efficient,
if somewhat lacking in luminary capability.

Michael was lighting candles in similar holders for
himself and Owen. She looked back up the black hole they'd
descended. The tail end of the rickety ladder was just visible.
Again, she marveled at the courage and tenacity of nineteenth
century miners.

Owen and Michael had stopped a little way down the
tunnel, conferring about something. She hurried to catch up.

"…but without a level number, the directions could be
for any one of six tunnels, and that's assuming Duncan got his
directions right." Owen was saying, waving a hand in
exasperation.

"Calm down." Michael's voice was patient. "I'm pretty
certain he was referring to this level. Most of the silver was
found here and besides, it'd be quite a chore to lower all those
bars down a shaft with a mucker's bucket."

"Yes, but you're assuming Amos's hiding place was on
this level." The Englishman's features looked sharper, almost
sinister in the flickering light.

"Well, basically, I'm assuming a hell of a lot. But
all I know to do is start looking. Come on, Owen, have a little
faith in my father." Michael patted the man on the back and turned
to Cara. "How are you holding up?"

She smiled at the concern in his voice. "Fine. I'm a
little sore, but all in all, I'd say I'm up for a treasure
hunt."

He bent and pressed his lips lightly to hers. "That's
my girl."

It was absurd how such a simple phrase could bring so
much joy. "Where do we start?"

They'd been walking as they talked and now Michael
came to a halt in front of a narrow fissure in the tunnel wall.
"Here."

"In there?" Cara was incredulous. "Nobody could
squeeze through that."

Owen held his candle closer to the opening. "The
shadows make it look smaller than it is." Sure enough, the small
crack enlarged as if by magic. It was still tiny by doorway
standards, but it did look navigable—barely.

"Are you sure this is the right tunnel?" She eyed the
crack skeptically.

"It's a drift actually, but I'm fairly certain this
is the right one. Northwest tunnel three should be just up there."
Michael motioned ahead with his candle.

"How can you be sure?" Owen still sounded
frustrated.

"You forget that I helped to dig most of these
tunnels. It's been awhile, but I still remember where most of them
are."

Owen nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Well, no time like
the present, I always say." He started toward the fissure.

"Wait." Owen stopped, turning back at the note of
authority in Michael's voice. "I think it would be better if you
let me go in there. It's a tight fit, but I'm used to it."

"So you want us to just stand here and wait?" The
idea obviously didn't excite Owen.

It pleased Cara no end. She'd had about all the
adventuring she could take. Frankly, she was beginning to think the
silver wasn't worth all this effort.

"Why don't you and Cara go on and check out the other
tunnel? It's just up there." He met Cara's mutinous look and
smiled. "It's a lot wider."

"Right." Owen started off in the direction of the
other tunnel, calling over his shoulder. "We'll meet back
here."

Cara held her ground. "If I have to go into one of
these things, I'd rather go with you."

Michael placed a hand on her shoulder. "This isn't an
easy tunnel. It widens out pretty quickly, but the first fifty feet
are narrow and low. If I remember right, there are places where you
have to crawl."

She shuddered, memories of the cave-in flashing in
her head. "Well, if it's so tricky maybe you shouldn't go
either."

"I'm a prospector's brat, remember? I've been
crawling around mines since I was a kid."

"Well," she looked him up and down pointedly, "I'd
say you're a little bigger now." He shot her an
I'm-going-to-do-what-I-want-no-matter-what-you-say smile. So much
for arguing. She blew out a breath. "All right. But I'm staying
right here, in case you need me."

He grinned, his mind already on the fissure. The man
was actually enjoying himself. "I'll be back."

"Yeah, you and Arnold Schwarzenegger," she mumbled.
He looked at her blankly, dropped a kiss on her cheek, and
disappeared into the crack. She stood for a minute waiting
patiently. "Michael?" No answer. The rock seemed to absorb all
sound. She turned back the way they had come. It was dark. Really
dark. Looking the other way, she could just make out the light from
Owen's candle.

She glanced again at the fissure where Michael had
disappeared, then turned her gaze up to the rocks above her.
Several small stones broke free and clattered to the ground at her
feet.

She turned back toward the bobbing light heading down
the tunnel, her mind made up.

"Owen," she called. "Wait for me."

*****

"So how much farther back do you think this
goes?" Cara peered into the darkness. Somehow, she'd wound up in
the lead. Not exactly her first choice, but at least she wasn't
alone.

"I'm honestly not sure. I never spent much time at
the mine. I was more the money man. Duncan was the spelunker. Mind
your head. It gets low here."

She ducked, wondering how he managed to warn her of
the tunnel's obstacles when he'd just admitted he'd not spent much
time here. She shrugged mentally, probably just amazing eyesight.
"Do you think Michael's found anything?"

"No, there hasn't been enough time. It's an
incredibly narrow passageway. It will take him a while just to get
into the wider part of the drift."

Again, he seemed incredibly knowledgeable. She blew
out a breath, her eyes searching for a glint of silver, even as her
mind churned. She was over-reacting. She knew it. Amos Striker was
dead. The worst was behind them. Still, she'd feel better when
they'd found the damn stuff and were safely out of the mine.

She'd never thought of herself as a claustrophobic,
but she was beginning to change her mind. She stopped, holding her
candle up. "I don't think this thing is ever going to end."

"It's not much farther." His voice echoed out of the
dark behind his candle.

"I thought you'd never been here." Again, she felt
the niggle of concern.

"I haven't," he said quickly. "It's just that the
tunnel is narrowing here."

She looked up, holding her candle high. Sure enough,
the rock walls were closer together and the ceiling was more
rounded. Owen stabbed his candle-holder into a soft place in the
wall, the glow illuminating a circle of stone. Cara tried to follow
suit with hers, but had trouble pushing it into the rock.

"Here, like this." Owen took it from her, and after
examining the wall, shoved it into a muddy looking patch.

The combined light almost made the cavern bearable.
She thought she could just make out the back of the tunnel. "Now
what?"

Owen shrugged. "We search."

Cara took a step towards the back wall, her eyes
sweeping across the shadowy ground. "I'm not sure exactly what
we're looking for."

"A stack of silver bars. I imagine the crates have
long since rotted away." His disembodied voice echoed across the
emptiness as he stepped out of the light. "Each bar is marked with
a rose."

"That's right, I'd forgotten about the rose." She
bent down to reach behind a fallen rock, her blood suddenly running
cold. Only Rose and Duncan and Michael had known about the imprint.
It had been a last minute addition. Owen hadn't known. Duncan had
never told him.

She slowly stood up, her heart pounding. "I'm not
finding anything. Maybe it's not here."

"We haven't searched all the way to the end of the
tunnel. Let's keep looking." He was still out of range of the
light, his voice echoing sinisterly. "Cara?"

"I'm here, Owen, just not finding anything." She
tried but couldn't keep the fear from her voice, the truth a
blinding glimpse of the obvious. Owen Prescott wasn't a friend. He
was the enemy.

*****

Michael struggled to move forward and keep
his candle alight. It was slow going, but if he remembered
correctly he was almost through the hard part. Of course he had to
get out again, but he'd made it this far and he figured he could
make it back. And with any luck at all, there'd be a pay-off at the
end of the drift.

He wasn't really a material man, but the thought of
being able to provide a good life for Cara appealed to him. The
silver would go a long way toward making Clune the kind of place
she would be proud of. And maybe, if it was all it could be, she'd
be content to stay here, in this time—with him.

He pushed thoughts of Cara away and worked to inch a
few feet farther along.

*****

"I'm afraid, my dear, we've run out of
time."

Owen seemed to materialize out of nothing, his voice
trailing along the edge of Cara's ear, sending shivers up her
spine. She jumped back holding a hand to her chest. "Owen, you
startled me." He smiled, but it failed to reach his eyes. They
reminded her of marbles, beautiful but lifeless. She took a step
backwards. Something was very wrong.

"I'm afraid I've made a serious blunder." He moved
with a speed that amazed her, his hands closing around her throat.
"I've let my secret slip, and you're entirely too clever to have
missed it." She tried to struggle, but he was larger and his grip
tightened, cutting off her oxygen. "I'm sorry, darling, it couldn't
be avoided. She simply knows too much. Forgive me."

Cara thought at first he was talking to her. But it
came with sudden clarity that he wasn't. Her vision began to darken
and she could no longer draw a breath. He was crazy, her
beleaguered brain pounded out.
Crazy
. She reached inside for
strength. Thinking of Michael, she twisted against the murderous
hands, the movement allowing her a tiny breath.