The High Country Rancher (4 page)

He felt Mariah shudder, and stroked her hair. “Hold on,” he whispered, attempting to calm her. They had to stay quiet; they had to let him believe they were dead, or close to it. They didn’t stand a chance of surviving if he opened fire on them in the hole.

Baylor waited, counting the minutes, then the hour, before he let go of her and dropped to his knees, searching for his saddlebags in the darkness. He locked his hands on them and fumbled inside, pulling out the flashlight he always carried. He switched it on, and their prison became illuminated.

“It’s probably safe to talk.” He shined the light up at the opening, covered over with old boards. Anxious to test a theory, he found a rock on the floor of the shaft.

“Watch yourself,” he warned before he pitched the rock up at the boards. It hit hard, jarring them, before dropping to the ground at his feet.

“They’re not secured. Maybe we can knock them loose.”

“What good will that do? We still can’t climb out of the hole,” Mariah said.

“Someone could hear us yelling. With the boards on, the sound is trapped.”

“What about other ways out? Don’t these shafts lead to tunnels?”

Baylor searched the earthen walls with the flashlight beam. “Sometimes, but most of these vertical shafts were air vents, or exploratory holes that go nowhere.”

“If this one is an air vent, then the actual mine shaft would be below us?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at her. Her face was coated in dirt, the sleeve of her blouse ripped almost off. He should have been paying attention topside, instead of kissing her. Maybe he’d have been able to protect her.

“What if we go down?”

He pulled in a breath. “We could try, but most of those old tunnels have caved in. We could go from thirty feet to the surface, to fifty feet from the surface.”

“What are the odds someone will find us?”

A knot fisted in his gut. “Who knows we’re out here?”

“My dad knows I’m on a stakeout, but he’d never figure I went for a horseback ride.”

“My new ranch hand, Travis Priestly, doesn’t show up until Monday. The horses will hightail it
back to the barn…” Baylor paused. His summary of the situation was only making Mariah more tense and he had to keep her calm.

“Come on. I brought food and water. We’ll eat and figure this out later.”

She nodded, and he felt better. They sat down and he opened the saddlebag, taking out one of the sandwiches he’d made and cut in half. “We’ve got enough to last several days if we ration.”

Mariah watched Baylor halve the half and took the sandwich from him. She wasn’t really hungry, she decided as she bit into it, but if they were going to be trapped for any length of time down here, it was important to maintain their strength.

He pulled out the canteen and unscrewed the cap. “You first, one swallow.”

She took the canteen from him, and took a drink, letting it moisten her parched throat. She handed it back to him. “Tell me we’re going to get out of here.”

“We’re going to find a way out. I promise.” She tried to smile, and took another bite of her sandwich, remembering the way he’d kissed her before their fateful plunge. She popped the last piece into her mouth, chewed and swallowed.

“Let’s inventory what we have. Empty your pockets,” he said, opening the saddlebag and digging inside.

Reaching into her pants, she pulled out everything she had. A package of gum, a handful of
change, two paperclips, a mini-compact mirror, a couple of business cards and a used tissue. “That’s it. A pitiful bunch of junk.” She patted her pistol. “And this.”

“I’ve got food, water, a pocketknife, flashlight, small first-aid kit, a horse tie-out line and a compass.”

A zing of hope flashed through her as she stared at the coiled-up length of nylon rope. “How long?” She picked it up.

“Twenty feet.”

Excitement streamed along her nerve endings and she stood up. “Maybe we could get it through the opening and tied off somehow.”

Baylor stood up next to her and gauged the weight of the empty saddlebags. “We have to knock the boards out of the way. Let’s add rocks.”

Together, they filled the saddlebags with rocks and Baylor cinched the buckles tight. He uncoiled the rope and tied it securely around the wide leather strap that joined the two leather pouches together.

“Stand back.” He tested the saddlebags, guessing they came in around fifteen pounds.

Stepping back as far as he could against the wall of the shaft, he tossed the loaded bags toward the opening.

Clunk. It hit the boards, dislodging one of them. A ray of sunlight streamed into the hole.

A dozen throws later, the boards their assailant had closed them in with had been knocked out of the
way and light again shone through the jagged opening.

Baylor shoved his flashlight into his pocket, and folded onto the ground next to Mariah.

“Do you think you can climb out, if I put you on my shoulders?”

“I can try,” she said, letting her head lull over and rest on his shoulder for an instant.

A rush of need washed through him as he put his arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’ll get out of here,” he said, stroking her hair even as he did the math. Their combined heights plus his arm length would still leave them ten feet short of the top.

He stared up at the opening. If he could get her close, maybe she could use the tree roots to climb out.

“Let’s give it a try.” He helped her to her feet. “I want you to use the roots once you stand up. Jerk on them first, make sure they’ll hold you.”

Mariah nodded.

Baylor bent over. “Climb on my shoulders.” He braced himself, watching her pull off her shoes and shove them into the back waistband of her pants.

Caution wiggled along Mariah’s spine and settled in her gut as she put her leg over Baylor’s shoulders and sat down on his neck. He put his hands on her thighs and slowly raised her up.

She worked to keep her balance. Reaching out, she caught hold of a root and steadied herself. “Get as close to the wall as you can.”

A spray of dirt rained down from the wall where she splayed her hand against it.

“Go easy,” he warned. “The whole thing could come down.”

Anxiety bit into her nerves. “Okay, I’m going to stand up.” Balancing, using Baylor’s raised hands, she put her left foot on his left shoulder.

“Come on, babe. You can do it,” he coaxed as she wobbled, put the majority of her weight down on her left foot, and pushed up into a standing position, catching his other shoulder in the process.

“If you ever decide to quit chasing cows, we can join the circus.”

He chuckled, and she felt the vibration through the bottoms of her stockinged feet. Reaching out, she took hold of a root, pulling at it like Baylor had told her to do. It held fast.

Stretching her other arm up, she gauged the distance to the opening. Eight feet, maybe ten. Searching, she locked her hand on another root, this one much larger. She felt it give when she jerked on it, and another shower of grit rained down on Baylor’s head.

“So many of them are loose.” She pulled on another one; it held. “If I can just find a couple that’ll hold my weight.”

She balanced, wobbled and regained her balance, feeling Baylor put his hands on her calves to steady her. “I think I can reach the top.”

Feeling with her right foot, she found a toehold and put pressure on it. It held. Gingerly, she grasped the two tendrils she’d determined would hold, and stepped up off Baylor’s shoulders.

Holding on for dear life, she felt the root give slightly, then hold fast. She caught her breath, and remained perfectly still, making sure it would continue to hold her before she searched for another foothold.

Focused on the opening, she climbed upward an inch at a time. Hope coursed in her veins and she could feel the sun’s warmth on the top of her head.

She reached the top, grabbed a root and started to claw her way out of the hole.

Ping.

A bullet pierced the tendril above her thumb and fingers. The root snapped and decomposed in her hand.

She lost her balance, and launched backward, a scream ripped from her throat.

Baylor braced for the impact, watching Mariah fall toward him in a hail of dirt and debris.

He caught her in his arms.

The earth dropped under his feet from the catch.

Before he could move they were falling again, to the floor of the shaft in a haze of dust and rock.

Fighting to hold on to her in the chaos, Baylor locked his arm around her waist.

They hit with a thud. The air rushed out of his lungs. He lay still until the dust cleared and opened his eyes in the darkness, still holding on to her.

“Are you okay?”

She shuddered. “Yeah. What happened?”

“The floor of the shaft gave way. We’re in the tunnel below.”

Baylor released her, sat up and pulled his flashlight out of his pocket. Dust polluted his lungs and he coughed, trying to clear them.

Turning on the light, he inched the beam along the
rock walls of the tunnel. It was narrow, maybe three feet wide. The debris from the collapsed air shaft blocked off the passageway in one direction.

Caution burned through him as he shined the light down the dark tunnel in the opposite direction. For the first time he considered the idea that this could be their final resting place.

“Come on, we’ve got to find the saddlebags if we can.” Clamping the flashlight in his teeth, he started digging with his bare hands.

Mariah moved in next to him, digging, too.

“I found something.” She pulled her compact up out of the dirt. “Just what every girl needs in the dark. A mirror. Damn.”

She shoved it into her pocket, and went back to work digging. “This is better.” She dragged up the saddlebags and dusted them off.

Baylor took the light out of his teeth. “Good job. We can live without the gum and my hat.” He saw her smile in the scant lighting. She pulled her shoes out of her waistband and slipped them on.

“That way?” She pointed at the black hole to the north, as near as he could tell it was north.

“Yeah.” Baylor stood up, slung the saddlebags over his shoulder and took her hand. He’d explored some of the tunnels as a teenager, but once his mom found out he’d been underground, she’d insisted the openings be sealed. Permanently.

He tamped down the worry that rocked through
him. They would find a way out, but for the time being they were safe down here from the shooter aboveground.

“Watch your step,” he warned her as he shined the light on the uneven rock beneath their feet.

“Who made these tunnels?” Mariah asked, her grip tightening on his hand.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the Montgomery Find Mine?”

“I didn’t pay attention in Idaho history.”

“Fifty years ago they hit a vein of gold down here a quarter of a mile wide, but it petered out five years later, and they abandoned the site.”

Caution sluiced in Baylor’s veins as they progressed along the tunnel, his flashlight beam shining on freshly drilled holes in the bedrock, ready to be plugged with dynamite and blasted. Sequential piles of ore lay ready to be transported out of the tunnel. Someone had been down here.

Recently.

He owned the mineral rights to the Bellwether, and as far as he knew, they were on Bellwether property.

The tunnel forked twenty feet ahead and they stopped.

“Which way?” Mariah asked, stepping forward.

“I’m not sure.” He shined the light down the tunnel on the left, noting the downward slope of the rock floor. He did the same for the tunnel on the right, which looked level.

“Let’s take the right tunnel, we don’t want to go deeper underground.”

“Sounds good.” She latched on to his hand again, and he gave it a squeeze.

Baylor stepped into the tunnel, and paused. “Do you feel that?” A hint of air current pushed from out of the opening, moving the hair lying against his forehead. “It must open to the surface somewhere.”

The beam coming from the flashlight dimmed. Baylor smacked it against his palm a couple of times and it glowed bright again. Relief spread through him. They’d be in real trouble without a light source.

Mariah dared to believe for the second time in the past hour. She didn’t want to suffocate down here, and the brush of the breeze against her skin gave her hope.

“Thank God.” The feel of Baylor next to her was the only thing that made the situation bearable. If she’d been down here alone, she’d have lost it by now.

Gingerly she followed him into the tunnel. Twenty feet, thirty feet, fifty feet. Ahead in the distance, she spotted a patch of light.

“Look at that!” Excitement surged in her veins and she fought the urge to race toward it, held back only by the feel of Baylor’s hand holding hers, and a wave of tension in the air.

“Take it easy. There’s a lot of dark between here and there.”

Moving closer, she could see that the sliver of
light was no bigger than her arm, a slit in the earth. “It’s too small to squeeze through.”

Baylor shined the flashlight at the pile of rock below the crack. “I’m going to climb up and have a look, get an idea of where we are.”

He handed her the flashlight and she aimed it so he could see. She watched him scramble up the mountain of loose rock, maybe six feet high, and peer out of the crack. “I can hear water. We must be close to the stream at the edge of the meadow.”

He pulled back and shuffled down the mound toward her. The beam dimmed, and panic touched on her nerves as she shook the flashlight. “Dammit.”

“Relax,” Baylor coaxed, coming closer.

A scream gurgled in her throat as she stared at him in what was left of the light.

“Spiders!” With her hand she swiped at a couple of light brown-colored spiders crawling on the front of Baylor’s shirt.

“Damn. Something’s biting me on the back.” He turned slightly, and the edge of light coming from the slit in the earth illuminated dozens of spiders crawling all over Baylor’s shirt and over his shoulders.

“You’re covered in them.” Terror raked her body and she dropped the flashlight, slapping at the spiders.

She watched them drop to the floor and scatter in the dimming flashlight beam. One scrambled across her foot and she let out a scream that echoed against the ceiling of the tunnel.

Baylor pulled his shirt off and gave it a shake, freeing the nest of harmless brown spiders that he’d gotten into, but he had to calm Mariah. He could hear the panic in her voice.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. They’re harmless.” He pulled his shirt back on and bent down, picking up the flashlight. It went out in his hand, but not before a flutter of wings whispered in the darkness.

“What was that!” Mariah shrieked.

He reached out and took hold of her.

Another set of wings beat the air, followed by a squeak and the drone of hundreds of bats coming alive inside the tunnel.

“Hold on.” Baylor pulled Mariah closer, pressing her head against his chest as the swarm, awakened by their presence in the tunnel, reacted en masse.

Baylor tucked his head and waited for the onslaught to pass. High-pitched whistles and screeches echoed inside of the tunnel as the swarm of bats flocked past and moved through in the direction they’d come.

“Come on!” Taking Mariah’s hand, he followed the sound.

She resisted, but he dragged her forward.

“They know the way.” His reasoning seemed to penetrate her panic.

Back down the tunnel. Right into the one they hadn’t chosen.

A rush of air greeted them the moment they
stepped into the corridor. He could feel the decline under his feet.

“Careful. Take it slow.” Feeling along the wall of solid rock, he moved forward, still focused on the eerie cries of the bats ahead of them.

The tunnel turned slightly and Baylor slowed his pace. Squinting, he confirmed what he was seeing.

“There’s light up ahead.”

“I see it.”

He moved quicker the closer he got, being able to make out the terrain under his feet in the light coming in through a large opening at the end of the tunnel.

The last bat darted out, and Baylor ducked and stepped through, still holding Mariah’s hand.

He sucked in a breath of fresh air and looked around.

“I want to kiss the ground.” Mariah sat down on the log that concealed the opening.

Caution warned Baylor they weren’t safe yet. Not until they were back at the ranch. “Someone doesn’t want this tunnel to be discovered. I’d guess it’s whoever has been working in this mine and shooting at us.”

“But I thought you said they closed it years ago.”

“They did.” Baylor stared into the woods, watching for any sign of movement. “Come on, we can’t afford to stay here for long. He’ll discover we’re not in the tunnel anymore.”

Mariah stood up. “Should we go for the horses?”

“Yeah. We’re at the bottom of the meadow, just
into the timber. The horses should be that way.” He pointed to the east, at the top of the trailhead.

Mariah came to her feet and pulled her gun out of its holster.

The woods hummed with the buzz of insects. Somewhere a woodpecker hammered his beak against a tree, boring out a hole.

She scanned the forest as she hurried along the trail behind Baylor, fighting the sensation of being watched. God only knew how many places their tormenter could hide. He could take another shot at them and they’d never see it coming.

Baylor picked up the pace and she broke into a jog behind him. They rounded the last corner and came to a stop.

The horses were gone.

A chill rocked her body as she turned around, pointing her pistol into the woods as she scanned behind them.

They needed to find the horses and get off the mountain.

“Jericho and Texas will head for the ranch. They’re probably standing in the road wondering where we are.”

Baylor studied the scattering of hoof prints and shoe prints in the loose soil where the horses had been tied.

“Do you suppose they got spooked and broke loose when the gunshots went off?” Mariah asked.

“Doubt it. They’re both used to rifle fire. They’d
have stayed put.” There. There it was on the opposite side of the tree. “I found something.”

They moved around to where he could get a clear look at the single boot track in the dirt. “They were untied. Probably by whoever did the shooting. He managed to wipe away the rest of his prints, all except for this one.”

Mariah stared at the print, memorizing its shape and trying to gauge its size. She could see the drag marks where something had been rubbed over the ground, erasing the rest of the prints. “He didn’t want us to know he’d been here.”

“That, or be identified. Let’s get out of here.” Baylor started for the trail.

The sun beat down on them as they worked their way down the steep decline that switched back and forth across the mountain. They stopped a couple of times for a drink from the canteen Baylor carried in the saddlebag, but always he stayed vigilant, watching, anticipating another shooting spree.

An hour later they descended the last fifty feet of trail and stepped out onto the main road.

Harley Neville stood next to his truck holding the reins of the horses. “Dammit, Baylor, don’t scare me like that. My old ticker can’t take it. I came around the corner and here they were. What the hell happened to you?”

Baylor smiled at his neighbor and walked over to him, checking the horses over to make sure they
were okay. He rubbed Jericho’s neck, noting the broken rein. He’d probably stepped on it in his hurry to get down off the mountain.

“We had some trouble with an abandoned mine shaft, but we’re okay. Thanks for holding my horses.” He took both sets of reins. “You see anyone else come down out of here?”

“Not in the past hour. But I did pass Ray Buckner on his four-wheeler about half an hour ago. He was in a mighty big hurry.”

Baylor knew the man, had met him a time or two since he’d been working on the Turner ranch as a hand.

“He didn’t by any chance have a rifle with him, did he?”

“Don’t know, but he had a long gun scabbard strapped on the front handlebars.”

A surge of caution flared just under Baylor’s skin. Was it possible Ray had taken those shots at them? Boarded them up in the shaft?

“Thanks, Harley.”

“You bet.” Harley climbed into his pickup and headed east toward his cabin.

“Are you up for the ride home?”

“Yeah. But I plan to talk to Ray Buckner, find out what he was doing out here.”

Baylor handed Mariah the reins to her horse and tied the saddlebag on. “Things got carried away up in the meadow. If I overstepped a boundary, I’m sorry.” He shot her a glance and saw her cheeks turn pink.

“I’m not.” She mounted up, sitting tall in the saddle as a slight smile pulled at her lips. Lips he could still feel against his own. Hell, if they hadn’t been interrupted, who knew where that kiss might have led?

He mounted up and turned his horse for home as Mariah rode next to him in silence. Tension knotted the muscles between his shoulder blades and he contemplated how hard it would be to stop if he got close to her again. He couldn’t let it happen. Couldn’t risk his heart. Not again, not on a lady cop who didn’t trust him.

M
ARIAH LAID THE
once-white washcloth on the bathroom counter and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d managed to scrub all of the mine shaft dirt off her face and she felt almost human again. Baylor had loaned her one of his T-shirts in place of her torn blouse.

She glanced at her watch—three o’clock, plenty of time to question Ray Buckner before she headed for the station.

Baylor stood in the middle of the living room waiting for her.

A low whistle came from between his pursed lips. “You clean up good, Detective.”

“Thanks, and I see you found another hat.”

He tipped it and smiled. “What’s a cowboy without his hat?”

The gesture set her thoughts in motion and she
knew she was in trouble. There was nothing about him that wasn’t attractive to her.

“We better take the pickup. The road into the Turner place is rough. We might need four-wheel drive.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket and moved to the front door, opening it for her.

She walked outside and he followed. “I plan to press criminal charges, if we can get the evidence on Ray Buckner.”