Page 61 of The Promise
A tear slipped down the crevice between her nose and cheek. Patrick reached out to wipe it away. "Loralee, anyone would be proud to have you for a mother."
She gave him a watery smile. "Well, I made my try for a better life, but I guess I just wasn't meant to be anything but a whore. And I can't say that my life has been all that bad. I mean I had a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter. Most folks never even have that much. Maybe I was just being greedy to want more." She ducked her head.
Patrick tipped her head up with a finger, his eyes searching hers. "You're being no such thing. Everybody has a right to find their own way, Loralee, no matter what happens to them. And I can't believe your husband would want you to quit living just because he's gone."
He wasn't certain if he was saying the words for her or for himself. But either way, he knew they were true.
And living was just what they were going to do.
16
Michael frantically scanned the bookcase, trying to find some clue as to how to open it. He was supposed to protect her, not lose her through a trick door.
With a hissing swish, the books started to revolve again and Cara stood in front of him, a sheepish expression on her face. "How's that for unusual?"
Michael grabbed her, holding her close. "Don't ever do that to me again. I thought I'd lost you."
She pushed back, her eyes meeting his. "I'm sorry, I had no idea the thing was going to do that. I just lifted the lid on the urn and whoosh, I was revolving."
"How did you get back?" His pulse still hammered in his ears.
"Elementary, my dear Watson, I just put the lid back." She grinned and reached for it again.
He intercepted her arm, taking a firm grasp of her hand. "Hold it. If we're going to do this, we're doing it together." He stepped into the recess with her. "Ready?"
She nodded, looking as if this was a great adventure. Maybe in her world secret passages were a common thing, but in his time they usually spelled trouble. He lifted the lid and the wallgroaned and spun slowly, revolving until they were standing in another room.
He moved out of the alcove, dragging Cara with him, the lid still in his hand. The room was small, lit by a narrow window, and in contrast to the rest of the house, it was in shambles. A large map was tacked over a ramshackle desk, littered with files, books and more maps.
Large velvet drapes hung haphazardly across an adjacent wall as if they'd been hung in great haste. He walked over to the map, squinting in the poor light, trying to see what it depicted. A brass bar hung above it and brightly colored stick pins dotted the paper contours of mountains.
Cara reached around him and clicked a knob at the end of the bar. The map was flooded with bright light. Definitely an improvement over kerosene lanterns. Hell, it was even brighter than the new electric lights they'd installed in Silverthread. "Does any of it look familiar?"
She studied the map, biting on her bottom lip, a habit he was beginning to recognize. "Maybe. See these grids?" She pointed at a series of overlapping boxes outlined with different colors.
Each box was marked with a name. Dealers Best. Homespun Dreams. The Big Bonanza. "Mining claims."
She nodded. "And from the looks of the topography, I'd say it's the area just north of Silverthread."
He looked at it, struggling to find something he recognized. Some claims had been marked with a colored pin and others had been crossed out with a large X. He dropped his gaze to the desk. The maps here were older. Some of them dating back to before his time, each of them marked similarly to the one on the wall.
The books were all about lost mines, legend and fact mixed indiscriminately it seemed. And the files were marked with coordinates and held notes on topography, the names ofmountains, gulches and streams carefully recorded. "I'd say he's looking for something."
"The Promise."
Her hushed voice came from behind him and he pivoted, startled to realize she'd moved from his side. She had drawn back the velvet curtain and stood transfixed. Light from the window streamed across the little room, illuminating a wall covered with paintings. Cara's paintings of the mine.
And right in the center, surrounded by its companions, hungThe Promise.
"They're here."Cara whispered, her mind scrambling to make sense out of what was rapidly becoming an insane situation.
"The son of a bitch stole them."
She turned to look at Michael, tears filling her eyes. "At least they're not gone. When I saw the crates burning, I thought…" In two strides he was standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her, giving her needed strength. How was she ever going to live without him?
"They're safe, Cara. And we'll get them back, but right now I think we ought to get out of here. I wouldn't like for Nick to find us here in his little hidey-hole."
He started to pull her away, but she placed a hand on his arm, still staring at the paintings. "Wait a minute." There was something here, something more than stolen paintings. She just needed to figure it out. She took a step back her gaze sweeping across the wall of paintings. Next she studied them each in turn, finally ending withThe Promise.
