Velvet Thunder (14 page)

“I'll check the right wall. You take the left,” Heath said.

They set about their task, picking specks of rocks and tiny crystals out of the walls and keeping a sharp lookout for minute veins of silver or gold. When they met in the middle of the back wall some thirty minutes later, they piled their meager gleanings on the floor between them. Nothing resembled the rock in Stevie's pocket.

She was the first to speak. “Doesn't look like much to me.”

Heath agreed, pitching a handful of pebbles and fragments out onto the flowstone floor. “There's got to be something we're overlooking.”

“Maybe the strike is in another cavern and this area is a decoy,” Stevie suggested.

“Maybe. But the cave is so huge, it would take us forever to find it.” He rose, pulling her up with him. “Better get started.”

Just then Stevie tightened her grip on his hand. “We've got to get out of here.” Her voice held such urgency that Heath stopped in mid-stride.

“What's wrong?”

She had a premonition of danger. But how could she explain her gift to Heath without giving him the impression that she was some kind of Comanche medicine woman who told the future by rattling eagles' claws and throwing buffalo bones? She couldn't. “We've got to go. Now,” was all she said.

He saw the apprehension on her face. “I'm right behind you.” They retraced their steps through the tunnel to within sight of the cathedral room. Just as they reached the end of the corridor, they saw lighted lanterns in the entranceway. The harsh voice of an angry man rang throughout the cavern.

“You damn fools!” It was Henry Sims berating the men Heath had disabled.

Extinguishing the lanterns, Heath pulled Stevie back into the corridor from which they had just emerged. He wrapped her in his arms and held her close.

“Get in there and flush him out. He's not to leave here alive. When Judge Jack returns from Santa Fe, we'll all lose our jobs if he thinks security has been breached.”

“Our jobs ain't all we'll lose,” one of the men muttered.

Heavily armed with rifles and six-guns, they started for the shaft, where Heath and Stevie were hiding.

“We're between Scylla and Charybdis,” Heath observed quietly.

Stevie leaned back to look up in his face. “Who?”

“Never mind.” He pushed her braid behind her shoulder. “It's a long story. And we don't have much time.”

Heath had only moments to plan his next move.

“Bring your lantern, sugar.” He darted out of the shaft, sprinting down into the lower area of the cathedral room, stumbling over rocks and rises in the floor as he went.

Stevie ran at his side.

“There they go,” one of the guards shouted.

Heath pulled Stevie around in front of him and shielded her with his body. A fusillade of shots rang out as the brigands fired indiscriminately at the fleeing couple.

“Feel free to empty your gun into their carcasses,” Heath shouted.

They aimed their six-shooters in the general direction of their assailants and fired on the run. They heard one of the guards scream out in pain, then all was silent behind them.

Heath and Stevie slid to a halt behind a solid pillar that was covered with flowstone. One large shadow, they slipped out of sight. Their breathing was loud and harsh in the stillness as they reloaded their weapons in preparation for another assault.

“Could you see who it was?” Sims yelled from the aperture of the cave.

“No, boss. But there are two of 'em.”

“Well, get down there and flush 'em out.”

“Not me. It's pitch black down there. They got Red. I'm not hankerin' to catch any lead.”

“All right. Come out of there,” Sims said begrudgingly.

“They're not going anywhere. This is the only exit. And we'll be waiting for them.”

Heath and Stevie heard the guards stumbling. Red moaned as they dragged him along. Soon the cave opening darkened as they all moved outside, taking the last of the light with them.

Stevie and Heath were left in total darkness.

“Alone at last,” Heath teased to lessen the gravity of the situation.

Stevie moved closer to him. “Any suggestions of what we do now?”

He placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders. “Don't worry; there has to be another way out.”

“Not that I know of.”

“Where's your faith, Miss Johns?”

“I left it outside with the horses.”

He chuckled. “Bring your lantern and hang on to me.”

With mincing steps they made their way to the inner recesses of the cave. The floor sloped downward for fifty feet, then rose gently. They soon reached a point that was above the level of the cave's aperture. Heath climbed up the slight rise, then pulled Stevie up behind him.

“I don't think they can see us here. I'll light one of the lanterns.”

Stevie sighed relief. Despite her earlier teasing, the darkness had been closing in on her; she felt as if she could hardly breathe. When the lamp burst into flame, she drew a deep, cleansing breath.

Heath studied their surroundings closely. They were in a large, cavernous room. The back wall of the chamber was honeycombed with leads going off in all directions. It was a lifesize maze and Heath felt like a very confused rat. However, he was careful to hide his confusion.

He took a rock and scraped the form of an arrow on the wall, pointing in the direction of the aperture. If they were unsuccessful in finding another exit, they would eventually have to return to the cathedral room and confront Sims and company; it would be nice to know at the end of which tunnel danger lurked.

“Let's go, sugar.” Moving briskly down the corridor for several hundred feet, they emerged into another large room. Two more channels led off into further recesses of the grotto. Selecting one, Heath again marked it with an arrow before they continued. They wound around a bewildering labyrinth for an hour, then stopped to rest.

“This is a big cave.” Heath verbalized the obvious after taking several hard breaths. “Surely there's another way out.”

“I don't guess we'd have much success shooting it out with Sims and his men?” Stevie wasn't sure whether she wanted Heath to say yes or no. If he said yes, she would have to actually try to kill those men.

Heath shook his head grimly. “I'm afraid not. Our revolvers would be no match for their heavy firepower.”

After the discouraged couple had rested for a while, Heath cupped Stevie's jaw in his hand. “Ready to push on, boss?”

Stevie smiled genuinely. “You don't have to call me boss. After getting shot at together . . .” she trailed off.

“Can I call you Steph?”

She grinned, shaking her head, no. Frankly, their moment of silliness was calming her nerves. And the caressing way he said Steph was extremely distracting . . . pleasantly so.

“I can't make myself call you Stevie.” He ran his eyes over her dusty form. “You just don't look like a boy to me. So what do I call you?”

“Well . . .”

“What?” Heath was intrigued by the seductive glint in her eye.

“Sugar is kinda nice.”

Heath chuckled low, sexy. “No, sugar is sweet,” he whispered against her lips. He kissed her then. Not passionately as she would have expected, but sweetly, almost lovingly. “Just like you.” He raised his head and looked down into her ebony gaze; he swore she had stars in her eyes.

His intense perusal made her self-conscious. “Reckon we better go?”

All he did was nod. Taking her hand in his, sliding his fingers warmly between hers, he led her down a damp corridor. When they came to a crawl space, Heath groaned. “This is going to be a tight squeeze for me. I'll go first and see if its negotiable.” Lying on his back, he slid into the crawl space. His chest lodged between the floor and the ceiling, panic advanced like the incoming tide. But years of facing danger with a cool head had prepared him for times such as this.

Exhaling, he collapsed his chest. Inch by tortuous inch he pushed with his heels and hands and scooted through the narrow space.

He emerged on the other side, the ceiling at normal height. He bent over, resting his stinging palms on his knees. His brow dotted with perspiration as he drew deep gulps of air into his lungs. “Okay, sugar, come on through. Slow and easy.”

Stevie pushed her way through the crawl space. She made the passage with ease. “How on earth did you get through there?”

Heath chuckled. “It was a tight squeeze.”

They moved on. A short distance beyond the crawl space the corridor sloped downward, leading to a lower level of the cavern. The floor was damp. As they continued, the water level rose to their ankles, then their knees. “Here,” Heath said, taking Stevie's lamp.

The soft swish of water as they moved steadily forward was the only sound to break the stillness. Panic advanced on Stevie every inch the water rose. Eventually, she was submerged to her shoulders.

Heath stopped suddenly. “We're going to have to swim through that passageway.” When Stevie didn't remark, he turned back toward her. “Please tell me you know how to swim.”

“I do” was all she said.

“I imagine this sump is short.” His words didn't appear to relieve her. “What's wrong, sugar?”

Stevie remained mute, unwilling to admit that she had an unnatural fear of water. Not long after her mother died, two boys from town had found her alone by the lake that watered their herd. They had ridiculed her for her Indian ancestry. When they finished taunting her and pushing her about, they held her head underwater. Jeff rode up on his pony and fired his long gun in the air, running them off. But she had been terrified of water ever since. She refused to meet Heath's eye. “Can't we backtrack and find another way?”

He regarded the characteristically fearless girl. She was pale and biting her lower lip. His heart was strangely warmed. “Sure, honey,” he said. “We'll try another way.”

After retracing their steps some fifty feet, a draft overhead ruffled Heath's hair. He was elated. Holding his lantern high, he illumined a corkscrew chimney. It led straight up into the darkness.

“Think you can climb this chimney? It has to lead into an upper gallery.” He pointed upward. “At least up there we'll be closer to the outside surface.”

She smiled into his face. “And farther away from the water.”

He lowered his lid, blessing her with a sexy wink that brought color to her face. “Thought you might see it that way.”

He jumped up into the vertical shaft and wedged himself with his hands and arms against opposite walls until he could work his feet up. Bracing himself with his feet on one wall and his back on another, he inched his way up a short space.

“Hand me the lanterns,” he called down to Stevie. He bent down, grasping the wire loops in one hand. Pressing his back and feet on opposite walls, he extended his other hand to Stevie.

She jumped as high as she could, missing his fingers by a fraction of an inch. On the second try she got a good hold. She was amazed at the strength in his arm as he lifted her effortlessly. Taking his lead, she wedged her feet and back against opposite walls. She followed him up the chimney until they reached the top some thirty feet above.

Heath was lying on the floor, panting, when Stevie topped the rim. She was breathing hard too, but not as hard as Heath. “I didn't know you were so old and out of shape,” she teased, collapsing on the floor.

He rolled over to where she lay and wrapped his arms around her. Growling into her neck, he said, “I'll show you who's old.” He pulled her under him and kissed her. His hands mapped each delightful curve as his tongue made love to her mouth. His breathing came in short, rapid pants.

Supposing he was beside himself with raging desire, she grew excited. Her hands wandered over him, up his muscular chest, over his broad shoulders, down his sculpted torso. His right side felt sticky, warm. The rest of his shirt was wet, but it felt cool to the touch.

She pressed the warm, wet area. When he groaned, she knew it wasn't from passion.

She pulled her hand back; it was stained with Heath's blood. He had taken a bullet during the gunfight but had said nothing about it. Her reaction to his injury was odd; she hit his shoulder with her fist.

“Ouch! All you had to do was say no.”

“You idiot. You're bleeding. Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?”

“It's only a scratch. We don't have time to worry about it. We've got to find a way out of here before the lanterns run out of oil.”

Just then, as if on cue, the first lantern began to flicker.

“We don't have time to treat your gunshot wound, but we have time to roll around on the floor like hounds in heat?”

“Well, some things are more important than survival.” His tone was light, teasing, but his face betrayed him. It was pale and drawn from pain and loss of blood.

Then Heath disappeared before Stevie's eyes as the light went out. Fumbling in the inky blackness, he located the second lantern and struck a match to it. The globe shined brightly.

In the pool of light she gently pushed him back to the floor and opened his shirt.

“Now, that's more like it,” he quipped.

“Oh, hush! Don't you ever think about anything but sex?” He pretended to consider the matter seriously. “I don't think so. No! When you're near, I know I don't.”

She uncovered the dark bullet wound in his side and gasped. It was worse than she had thought; there was no departure wound. “Give me your bandanna,” she ordered. After saturating it with water from a small trickle that ran down one wall, she cleaned the wound as best she could, applying steady pressure in order to stop the bleeding. She moved slowly, stalling, giving Heath time to rest, for she was certain he would insist they move on as soon as she finished.

“The bullet's got to come out.” She was quite proud of herself; her voice didn't break.

Struggling to his feet, he held the bandanna close against his side. “Not now.”

Slowly, she rose. They stood facing each other. She held him captive with her gaze, pushed a lock of hair over his brow, and regarded him with concern. Finally, she whispered, “You're the boss.”

“I thought you were the boss.”

“No. I have a rule. Anyone shot trying to help me automatically becomes the boss.”

“Well, this little mosquito bite might be worth it, then,” he teased, leaning heavily against her. “Come on, sugar. We don't have much oil left. If we don't find an exit soon, this bullet will be the least of our worries.”

They had covered a short distance when they came to a large chamber. A strange organic substance was thick on the floor. Heath held the lantern high.

Stevie gasped at the sight of thousands of bats hanging from the ceiling. Like any other woman with a brain in her head, she was terrified of bats. “They look like flying rats.”

“It's a bat roost. That mess on the floor is guano, bat dung. The bats won't bother us if we don't bother them. But the guano is highly flammable and explosive. We'll have to be careful with the lantern.”

Great, Stevie thought. Flying rats are harmless, but bat crap will kill you. Looking up, she shivered instinctively. Give her the bat crap any day. . . .

She cringed as they crossed the cavern, her boots sticking to the floor with every step she took. “This is awful!”

Heath chuckled indulgently.

They both gave a sigh of relief when they entered another corridor, but their problems weren't over. The passageway sloped downward again, leading inexorably to the same level they had been before they had ascended the chimney.

Suddenly Stevie's worst fears were realized; the corridor led down into another sump. “Great! We escape bats and run into a watery grave,” she muttered.

She pulled Heath over to the wall. He leaned against it wearily, weakened by his loss of blood. He closed his eyes as she tended his wound again, futilely trying to stop the bleeding. “We'll have to backtrack and find another way,” she said.