Page 115 of The Promise
Loralee nodded. "Is he…I mean…was he…"
Cara tightened her fingers around Loralee's. "I think he's at peace, too. I have a feeling he knows about Mary and you. About how much you loved him." Again she ducked her head in embarrassment. There just weren't any words.
The mine shook again, this time sending a shower of rocks and pebbles. The timber cracked and fell forward, leaving a yawning cavity behind. Cara froze as the candlelight glittered offof something wedged behind the fallen beam. It spilled out of the opening, neat stacks collapsing into random piles, each bar marked with a single rose.
"The silver." Cara breathed the words, just as Patrick and Loralee said them almost in unison.
The walls shuddered again and she was thrown off balance, stumbling forward, hands out to break her fall. Her left hand slammed into the pile of gleaming metal, pain shooting up her arm. Strong hands grasped her elbows, pulling her upright.
"We've got to get out of here." Michael's voice was hard to hear over the cracking and groaning of the mine. The whole place was beginning to break up. Large chunks of rock and timber were falling everywhere. Dust swirled, filling the air.
"What about the silver?" Patrick yelled above the din.
"Leave it." Michael's words were sharp and he was already moving toward the main tunnel.
Cara choked on the dust and Michael pulled her closer, protecting her from the falling debris. As they came through the opening into the main tunnel, the shoring broke and crashed to the ground behind them. Cara whirled around, eyes searching the swirling grime for Loralee.
"Patrick." Michael yelled, his voice lost in the rumbling.
Cara waited for them, her heart beating out the seconds, then suddenly, they were there, emerging from the cloud of dust. "Which way?" Patrick mouthed and Michael motioned toward the glimmer of light at the east end of the tunnel. With a nod, Patrick ushered Loralee forward. Michael's arm tightened around Cara and they hurried forward, too, dodging and ducking as the walls crumbled around them, heading, literally, for the light at the end of the tunnel.
They burst out into the bright afternoon light. After the gloom of the mine, it was almost blinding. The wooden planks shuddered as the tremors from the mine rippled outward. Caralooked down at the tiny ribbon of the creek below. "I don't suppose there's an elevator?"
Michael squeezed her shoulder. "You're looking at it."
She eyed the cables with resignation. "I guess it was pre-ordained."
The platform shuddered again, the entire entrance collapsing into a solid wall of timber and rock. Michael shoved her toward a car already occupied by Loralee. "There's no more time. It's now or never."
Cara looked deeply into his eyes. "I choose now." She kissed him and jumped into the already moving car. With one last shove, she and Loralee were airborne.
As Cara locked her arms around her great-grandmother's waist, Loralee's laughter filled the air. "I've always wondered what it felt like to fly."
The landing wasn't quite aswonderful as the take off. The little car jerked as it hit the station and ground to a halt. Michael's car skidded to a stop inches from theirs, bumping them as it landed on the platform. And behind Michael, Loralee heard Patrick swearing as his tramcar slammed down with a crunching thud. At least everybody was in one piece.
"You all right?" Loralee turned to look at Cara. Her great-granddaughter's eyes were still tightly closed. "We're on the ground."
Cara opened an eye. "You're sure?"
"Yes indeedy, and we all made the trip just fine."
Cara opened both eyes, looking relieved when she saw the inside of the rickety building. "So how do we get out of here?" The two women laughed, giddy with relief as they worked tountangle arms and legs and climb out of the car. Finally, they were each in charge of their own limbs again. Loralee stood up and took the hand Cara offered her. Clutching petticoats to belly, knickers in full display, she straddled the ore bucket one foot in, one foot out.
"Here let me help." Michael stood by Cara, his amused gaze taking in the show.
Despite the fact that many a man had seen her in a heck of a lot less than her knickers, Loralee felt the heat of a blush steal across her cheeks. "Thank you kindly, but I can manage." She stepped out of the bucket, quickly releasing cotton and lace, allowing her skirts to tumble back into a more ladylike position. The clatter of metal striking metal filled the tiny station as silver bars tumbled out of the skirt and onto the platform.
Loralee froze, eyes on the silver, purposely avoiding Michael's gaze. Patrick stepped to her side, his face the perfect picture of a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "We, ah, hated to see it all go."
"It was my idea," she put in hastily, trying to judge Michael's reaction.
"You could have been killed." Michael spoke softly, but there was a tremor in his voice.
"But we weren't." Patrick said perversely.
"Michael?" Cara stood by the oar cart, looking like that cat who swallowed the canary. She slowly pulled two silver bars from the pockets of her pants.
He ran a hand through his hair. "You, too?"
