A Change in Altitude (19 page)

“At least another ten thousand dollars.”

The man had solid-brass balls, Bob would give him that. “How much of that would end up in your pocket?” he asked.

“You don't understand. I have obligations to meet, debts. My ex-wife was talking about court action if I didn't pay her the money I owed, and a former business partner made certain threats I couldn't ignore. I had investors expecting payments, and a certain lifestyle to maintain. I was going to pay it all back once the mine started producing.”

Bob glanced up at the ceiling. What he really wanted to do was grab a good-sized rock and attempt to knock some sense into this old fool. But that probably wasn't possible, though he might be able to scare him onto the straight and narrow— at least temporarily. “Good thing you had that extra ventilation put in,” he said. “At least we won't suffocate.”

Gerald put his head in his hands and moaned.

“One of those falling rocks hit you?” Bob asked.

“I only had half as many ventilation outlets installed as were on the plans I submitted to the town council,” he said.

Half was probably plenty, Bob thought, but let Pershing sweat. “You know how to work every swindle, don't you?” he said. “Guess you'll pay for it now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe a rescue crew will get here before we run out of air. I guess we'll find out.” He folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

“Are you just going to sit there doing nothing?” Pershing asked.

“What do you think I should do instead?”

“Dig. Try to summon help.”

“You think we're going to bust through a wall of rock with our bare hands? And who's going to hear us way down here?”

Pershing rose to his knees and began pulling aside the rubble around him. “We might be able to break through if we both work. We can't just sit here and wait to die.”

“I'm not waiting to die. I'm waiting for the rescuers. Someone will notice me missing eventually.”

Pershing stilled, and for once he was silent. But he didn't have to say anything for Bob to read his thoughts—no one would miss the old swindler. “You don't think we should at least try to dig out?” he asked after a long moment.

“All that work uses up oxygen faster, and it's a waste of time and energy. They'll need heavy machinery to get us out.”

Pershing slumped back against the wall. “Isn't there anything we can do?”

“You might try apologizing to the Tommyknockers.”

“There is no such thing as Tommyknockers!” Pershing's shout echoed in the small space, and another chunk of rock broke loose from overhead and glanced off his shoulder.

Bob laughed. “They do have a sense of humor.” He switched off his headlamp and tried to get comfortable on the hard floor.

“What are you doing?” Pershing demanded.

“I'm saving the battery.”

Pershing said nothing and Bob dozed. He wasn't thrilled about being stuck down here, especially with Pershing, but there was no sense panicking. Somebody was going to notice when he didn't show up at the Dirty Sally, and he was supposed to give the town council a report tomorrow night. With luck, he and Pershing wouldn't strangle each other before then.

“Have you been trapped in a mine before?”

Gerald's words cut the profound silence and jerked Bob out of a hazy half sleep. He opened his eyes but could see nothing in the blackness. If not for the sharp rock at his back, he could imagine he was floating in nothingness. Disconcerting, but not unpleasant.

“I said—have you been trapped in a mine accident before?”

“I heard you. Yes, I've been caught once. In 1967. I hadn't been in the business long.” And he hadn't thought about that time for years. He had been so young and sure of himself in those days; only now, looking back, he saw how foolish he'd been.

“What happened?” Pershing asked.

“Another fellow and I were working for a bigger outfit, taking ore out of a shaft on the back side of a mountain. I got lazy. Greedy. I thought I'd cut corners on safety to get at the ore quicker, and I almost killed us both.” He closed his eyes. He could still see the other man, his face gray and silent, when they dug him out from the rubble, both legs crushed. He'd never work a mine again. Bob wondered if the man was still alive. He'd worked hard to forget the guy, and his own part in the accident, but of course he never had. Guilt was like that. You could push it down below the surface, but it always rose up again, like a body filled with gas.

“Then that had nothing to do with your mythical Tommyknockers,” Pershing said.

“It had everything to do with Tommyknockers,” Bob said. “They don't like cheaters and they don't care for greed. Wanting gold is one thing, but cheating other people to get it doesn't set well with them. They punished me for it.”

“Your carelessness caused the accident, not spirits.”

“If you don't believe in spirits, do you believe in the concept of karma?”

“The idea that everyone gets what he deserves? Just look around at all the good people who suffer and you'll see that's a joke.”

“You don't believe you'll reap what you sow? Maybe all those suffering good people get a higher reward in the next life.”

“I don't believe in that either.”

“What do you believe in?”

“The power of the individual to make his own destiny,” he said without hesitation.

“Even if that means stepping on other people and taking advantage of them?”

“If they're naïve enough to be taken in by a scam, they'll learn a lesson and be smarter next time.”

“And you'll be long gone, spending your ill-gotten gains. Or maybe you'll end up rotting at the bottom of a mine shaft, the victim of the shortcuts you took.”

Silence. Nothing like contemplating his own death to shut up a man. Bob closed his eyes again. He believed someone would come for them, but what if the collapse was worse than he thought and rescuers couldn't reach them in time? Was karma deciding that he should die in the company of a man he detested? Had the sins he'd committed in his life—and he could admit there had been plenty, if mostly petty—doomed him to such a miserable end?

So be it. He'd passed by his “three score and ten” a couple years back, and though he'd imagined living to be a hundred or more, he supposed he couldn't complain. His only regret was the role he'd played in his own demise. He'd taken a risk, hiding all that ammo in a mine with the gunpowder and detonator rope. He hoped people didn't think he was some nutcase terrorist, planning to blow up the government or anything. He was just a miner, and he'd wanted enough supplies to keep practicing his trade even if the world went to hell in a handbasket.

“What do you care about the money I took anyway?”

Pershing again. The man could not go five minutes without the sound of his own voice. “You took that money from people I like and respect,” Bob said.

“From Lucille, you mean. It isn't even her money. It belongs to the city. And I like and respect Lucille. She might even be the woman I've come closest to really loving. I never intended for her to take this so personally.”

“You may know a lot about money, but you don't know jack about women,” Bob said. “And I wasn't talking about Lucille in particular. I was talking about the town. You stole from Eureka. From the people who work for the town, and those who rely on it for services. You took a community's sense of trust and security. If it was up to me, they'd hang you up by your toes and let people take turns taking shots at you for that.”

“Then I guess it's good that you don't make the laws.”

“No, but I know the people who do.” And now that Pershing had confessed to taking the city's money and pocketing it, he'd make sure the old fraud got what was coming to him.

“Are you threatening me?” Pershing asked.

“I wouldn't waste my breath.”

Fraud or not, Pershing wasn't a dummy. It took about two seconds for him to realize what Bob had in mind. Bob switched on his headlamp in time to see the Texan leaning over him with a large rock. The light blinded them both, but Pershing didn't have to see to feel the blade of Bob's knife against his throat. “I didn't have to dig you out of that rubble and I can put you back in there,” Bob said.

Pershing dropped the rock and backed away. When he reached the wall, he slid down to a sitting position again. Bob kept the light on and studied the other man. “Do you really think they'll find us?” Pershing asked.

“Unless the Tommyknockers don't want us found.”

Pershing winced, but made no protest. Bob took his first really good look around the chamber where they were trapped. The space was maybe eight feet on each side, the ceiling too low for a man to stand upright. Where the rock had sheared off in the explosion, the walls were a sandy beige color, mica sparkling in the light from his lamp. Jagged timbers showed like broken teeth in the ceiling, and a tumble of rock, dirt, and broken wood clogged the only exit.

Bob tilted his head back to aim the light up. A dark, heavy beam spanned the chamber—the only thing that had saved them from being crushed. Alongside the beam, chunks of rock had broken loose and fallen, revealing a six-inch-wide band of quartz. Bob's heart beat a little faster as he stood and walked over for a closer look at this find.

“What is it?” Pershing stood also and joined him in looking up at the beam. “Is it a way out? Can we dig to the surface?”

“Can you dig through twenty or more feet of solid rock?” Bob reached up and scratched at the quartz, then shone the light again. A bright glint on the surface of the white quartz made him grin.

“What is it?” Pershing demanded.

“Gold.” With the tip of his knife, Bob chipped at the quartz and succeeded in dislodging a chunk about the size of his knuckle. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, admiring the shine. “Way more than I ever thought this old mine would yield. It could be our luck hasn't run out yet after all.”

“I
'm just saying that, with Bob and Gerald trapped in the mine and everyone focused on that, maybe we should postpone the wedding.” Maggie shifted on the hard bar stool at the Dirty Sally. Her back hurt, her feet were swollen, she had indigestion, and she was sure she looked like hell. She had intended to have this discussion with Jameso at home, but as with everything else in her life these days, things hadn't gone as planned and she'd ended up blurting out the idea in the saloon, where Jameso was stuck working a double shift to serve the influx of rescue workers, reporters, and curious hangers-on who'd flooded into town to cover the tragedy.

“We're getting married Saturday morning.” Jameso lined up three pint glasses on the bar and began filling them from the tap. “Your due date is Monday. I want to be able to tell my daughter that her parents were married
before
she was born.”

“A due date isn't exact. It doesn't mean I'm going to have the baby then.” Maggie put a hand to her back and winced. Frankly, she was over being pregnant and wouldn't mind if her little girl decided to make an entrance early. “And it doesn't matter anyway. You're the father, and that's what the birth certificate will say.”

He released the tap handle and looked her in the eye. “It's important to me. Isn't that enough?”

“Of course, I just thought it would be easier this way.”

“I don't care about easier. Easier would be going to the courthouse in Montrose and letting a judge make us legal. But we can get married with everyone who cares about us on Saturday. Here in Eureka. I don't want to wait.”

Clearly, there was no sense arguing the point with him. “Fine,” she said. “When you get a chance, could you bring me a ginger ale?”

“What do you look so glum about?” Barb, the few strands of blond hair escaping from her updo the only sign that she was frazzled, joined Maggie and Jameso at the bar. “You don't have anything to be glum about. You're going to have a beautiful baby and you're getting married in three days.”

“Maggie thinks we should put off the wedding because of everything that's going on at the mine.” Jameso set the three beers on a tray.

“You have to have the wedding Saturday,” Barb said. “It's the only way I'll get Chris Amesbury out of my bed-and-breakfast. He promised to be gone by then because I told him he's in the honeymoon suite. If you don't have the wedding Saturday, he'll never leave.”

“We're not putting off the wedding.” She gratefully accepted a glass of ginger ale from Jameso. “It was just an idea. It just feels so strange, with all these strangers in town—including Amesbury.”

“The man looks at everyone here like we're exhibits in a zoo.” Barb slid onto a stool next to Maggie. “I've stopped changing his sheets and I'm limiting his fresh towels, hoping he'll get the message and pack up.”

“What does the mayor think of you hassling the town's guest of honor?” Maggie asked.

“My mother wishes she'd never heard the name Chris Amesbury.” Olivia deposited a tray of empty beer bottles and glasses in a bus tub behind the bar. “Now that he's decided to put his reality show idea on hold in favor of a documentary about the mine explosion, he's even more annoying.”

“The Eureka Mine Disaster.” Maggie snagged a pretzel from the bowl at the end of the bar. “Just what Lucille wants the public to associate with the town.”

“Amesbury asked me this morning if I could find him half a dozen donkeys to use in his film,” Barb said.

“Donkeys?” Maggie ate another pretzel.

“You know, those burros miners used to use to haul equipment and ore and stuff,” Barb said. “He thought it would be ‘quaint' to re-create a scene of an early miner for his movie. I told him that, present company excepted, I did not normally associate with jackasses.”

“Oh, Barb.” Olivia laughed. “You're too much.”

“Speaking of mines and miners, what's the latest word from the Lucky Lady?” Barb asked.

“They think they know where the men are trapped, but there's no way to communicate with them to know if they're okay,” Maggie said. “They've got crews working around the clock to move rock and try to get to them.”

“I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Bob,” Olivia said. “This place isn't the same without him holding up the bar every afternoon.”

“If anyone can make it through something like this, it will be Bob.” Jameso opened the cash register and stuffed in a handful of bills. “He's too stubborn to die.”

“Yes, but can you imagine being trapped for two days with Gerald Pershing?” Olivia made a face. “If they survived the explosion and cave-in, they might have killed each other by now.”

“Do they know what caused the explosion?” Barb asked.

“Rick heard they found in one of the side tunnels enough ammunition and powder to start a small war,” Maggie said.

“That was Bob's survival supplies,” Olivia said. “He also had a bunch of canned food and bottles of water. He used to say civilization was going to hell in a handbasket, but he wasn't going to go with it.”

“Mainly, I think he liked the idea of being prepared for anything,” Jameso said.

“One of the investigators told Rick they think an animal got into the explosives and accidentally set them off,” Maggie said.

“Maybe when he gets out, he'll decide to take up a less dangerous hobby,” Barb said.

“I just hope when they get out, Gerald Pershing decides to leave town for good,” Maggie said.

“You can't say Gerald hasn't done something good for the town, in a roundabout way.” Barb crunched on her own pretzel. “Business is booming with all these people around. I could rent out every room of the B and B if I had beds to put them in.”

“When are those mattresses arriving?” Olivia asked.

Barb shrugged. “I'm not sure. But really, I'm just as happy not to have to deal with guests until after the wedding.”

“You do realize that running a bed-and-breakfast is all about dealing with guests, don't you?” Maggie nudged her friend. “It's not just decorating and menu planning.”

“But those are the fun parts. Changing sheets and fetching ice are the drudge work. I'm not a drudge work kind of person.”

“That would be me.” Olivia hefted a full tray of drinks. “One drudge coming through.”

The door to the saloon opened and Lucille slipped in. She removed her sunglasses and searched the room, then headed toward Maggie and Barb. “So this is where everyone interesting is hiding,” she said. “Have you seen Reggie? He's not in his office.”

“I thought I saw him earlier,” Barb said. “Headed out of town on that Harley of his.”

“Probably avoiding me.” Lucille nudged Barb. “You're little. Share your bar stool with me.”

“Notice she didn't ask me,” Maggie said.

Barb moved over and Lucille leaned against the stool. “Why would Reggie be avoiding you?” Barb asked.

“Every half hour I have a new question for him about the town's liability, in case Gerald or Bob decides to sue.”

“Bob wouldn't sue, would he?” Maggie asked.

“It's not Bob I'm so worried about. But if Gerald smells money, he'll go after it.”

“Maybe you won't have to worry about that.” Maggie drained the last of her ginger ale and pushed the glass aside. “In fact, you might be the one suing Gerald when this is all over with.”

“Oh?” Lucille leaned toward her. “What have you heard?”

“Nothing official, but Rick and I have been talking to the investigators and rescue crews, and some things don't add up. I haven't had a chance to compare the plans Gerald drew up for the town council with the map of the mine the rescuers are using, but just from memory, some things are missing.”

“Like the emergency exit the engineers were supposed to install,” Lucille said. “It could be they hadn't gotten around to that yet.”

“The town had to put up money for a bunch of safety improvements to the mine, right?” Maggie asked. She'd written the story for the paper, so she knew coming up with the money had been a hardship.

“Yes,” Lucille said. “An emergency exit and more ventilation, things like that. There have been engineers and crews up there for weeks, working on everything.”

“They were doing some work, but I don't think they were doing everything you paid for,” Maggie said. “Charlie told me he didn't see any sign of ongoing work—to him it looked like everything had been done that was going to be done. Which sounds like they never had any intention of installing that emergency exit.”

“But they must have known we'd do a final inspection before we paid,” Lucille said. “And their liability would be extreme. No one from the company has bothered to contact me, despite the fact that the mine collapse has been all over the news.”

“Maybe they've been paid everything that was owed them,” Maggie said. “And maybe they weren't hired to oversee the safety of the mine, but just to do a few specific jobs—enough for Gerald to string the town council along and keep asking for more money.”

“And Gerald kept the rest.” Lucille made two fists. “I will kill him. I don't care who hears me say that.”

“You can't hurt him physically,” Maggie said. “Better to go after him where it really hurts—in his pocketbook.”

“I'm missing something here,” Barb said. “What happened?”

“The town paid Gerald our half of the cost of all the improvements to the mine,” Lucille said. “Instead of using the money to pay for the work, he pocketed it, or at least most of it.”

“Talk about your own greed coming back to bite you in the butt,” Barb said.

“Trust me, when they haul him out of that mine, we will be pressing charges,” Lucille said. She leaned against the bar, head in her hands. “Honestly, I can't decide if this makes me feel better or worse.”

“Wasn't Bob supposed to be overseeing Gerald?” Maggie asked. “I mean, you just didn't hand the money over to him, right?”

“Yes, Bob was supposed to be overseeing him,” Lucille said. “And despite his eccentricities, Bob does know a lot about mining. He tried to hold Gerald's feet to the fire, but Gerald is very good at talking a lot and saying nothing. Whenever Bob pressed him for results, Gerald always had an excuse—the contractors were slow, the engineers needed more information, etcetera, etcetera.”

“He was stringing you along,” Barb said.

“Yes, and we had the sense to refuse to pay him any more until we got results, but still, he pocketed a good amount.”

“So you sue him,” Barb said. “If Reggie doesn't want to handle it, I know a few good lawyers.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Meanwhile, let's talk about a more pleasant topic of conversation. Are you ready for the wedding?”

“I don't know,” Maggie said. “I was thinking maybe we should put it off until things are calmer.”

“We're not putting it off,” Jameso said as he walked by on his way to deliver a tray of drinks to a table full of reporters.

Barb leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. “What's wrong?” she asked. “Are you getting cold feet?”

No, she had swollen feet. She loved Jameso and she definitely wanted to marry him. She just didn't necessarily want to do it right now. “It's a little overwhelming. The baby and marriage all at once,” she said.

Barb patted her hand. “You'll do all right. You and Jameso are already living together and that's worked out okay, hasn't it?”

“Yes, I hadn't planned on that either; but when his sister showed up, we couldn't put her on the street. But the house is really too small, and my dad's cabin is even smaller. How are we ever going to manage with the baby?”

“You still haven't found a place to move to?” Lucille asked.

“Eve Fairview with Eureka County Realty thinks she's found something for us, but it's quite a ways out of town. Still, at this point we can't be too picky.” She tipped up the pretzel bowl and peered at it hopefully. Empty.

“Don't sign a lease for something that isn't right,” Barb said. “I might have a lead on something.”

“What?” Maggie asked. “Where?”

Barb waved away the questions. “Never mind. I'll tell you when I know something definite. Just don't be in such a rush.”

“Barb, I'm getting married on Saturday and I have a baby due Monday. I don't think I'm rushing.”

“Fine. Don't think of it as rushing,” Barb said. “Think of it as right on time. You'll find your house when the time is right, too.” She snagged Jameso as he passed with a bus tub full of empties. “Be a dear and bring me a Bombay sapphire and tonic when you get a chance.”

“Nice to see at least one of you ladies came to the bar to drink,” he said.

“I came here because you're here,” Maggie said.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You're exactly where you belong.” The soft brush of his beard against her skin sent a pleasant shiver up her spine. The baby kicked and she put her hand to her belly to soothe it and smiled. The agitation she'd felt when she'd come in here in search of him had dissipated like an afternoon thunderstorm, giving way to a feeling of deep contentment. For so many years she'd been searching for the place where she belonged, where she fit. To think she'd found it here in this quirky, remote town.

Still smiling, she looked out onto the crowd of familiar and unfamiliar faces, and spotted Sharon working her way toward them. She wore an expression Maggie recognized—that of a woman determined to hold herself together. She was lost and uncertain, but determined not to show it. Exactly how Maggie had felt when she'd arrived in Eureka last year. She thought at the time she'd done a good job of hiding her uncertainty, of appearing competent and content to those around her. But now she judged herself a fraud. She'd been balancing on the edge; one slip and it was breakdown city.