Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

G il kept his breathing steady as he stared up at the darkness from his bedroll.

Jess and her father were both asleep, surely.

It’d been awful seeing her after Ezekiel died, holding her as she grieved. Ezekiel was probably one of the only people in her life who’d loved her unselfishly.

When he’d brought her back to the apartment, her father had been waiting for them. His gaze had narrowed as he sat at the table. Thankfully, the man hadn’t said much, because Gil wouldn’t have put up with his hurtful words.

She'd gone to bed soon after they returned, and Gil had tucked her in. Sleep was what she needed most. His chest ached, and he’d hardly known the old man. If only there were something more he could do to ease Jess’s pain. No matter what anyone said or did, the grief would have to work its way through her system over time.

It had taken a long while for her breathing to slow after she'd stopped crying.

Now, he looked one last time at where she lay tucked under blankets on her cot. She wasn’t likely to awaken, given how exhausted she must be. Which is why he'd not told her what he was about to do. After tonight, there would only be one more day and night to convince Sampson and get the sapphires out. He couldn’t waste any time.

As quietly as possible, he eased up from his bed pallet, picked up his boots, and slipped past the curtain into the main room. McPharland’s snores never halted as Gil crept toward the doorway. On the way out, he grabbed one of the extra lanterns and stuffed a few matches in his pocket.

Outside, the cold night air hit him like a splash of icy water. A welcome jolt to his senses after the stifling warmth of the apartment. He pulled on his boots, his fingers fumbling hooks in the dark.

Above him, stars glittered sharp and bright against the inky sky, tiny pinpricks of light that seemed to mock the heaviness in his heart.

He let the chilly air fill his lungs. Then he set off, skirting around the mountain, keeping his steps as silent as he could on the rocky ground. The trees covering the opening to the cave, a darker patch in the night. He’d keep the lantern unlit until he was inside the storage room—if he could make it that far in the dark.

As he slipped behind the cedars’ branches and stepped into the shadows of the cave entrance, a voice behind him shattered the stillness.

“Halt!”

Gil whirled, his heart leaping into his throat.

A short, wiry shadow stood five steps away, a rifle pointed at Gil's chest. Jedidiah.

Despite the faint starlight, the man's face was lost in shadow. Yet Gil could feel the weight of his gaze, cold and assessing.

Gil wasn’t far enough into the cave that the darkness hid him, so Jedidiah would see any movement he made. Was the man a quick shot? Gil could possibly lunge sideways and avoid the bullet, then attack Jedidiah before he could reload or be prepared for a fight.

But what good would that do, except to bring other men running? He wouldn’t be able to get the sapphires out either way, and he might ruin his chance to retrieve them later. He’d likely make it a lot harder to protect Jess too.

So he scrambled for a quick excuse. "I dropped something when we were in this cave earlier." The words spilled out in a rush. "My pocket knife. It's special to me. Just realized it was missing, wanted to find it before I lost it for good."

Jedidiah's silence stretched. When he spoke, his voice carried a cold menace. "Ain't nothing in there worth finding. But I'll take another look for you. Why don't you turn around and go on back to that wife of yours? And stay there."

The way he said wife made Gil's skin crawl. Did Jedidiah suspect the truth behind their pretend marriage? Gil's mind raced, searching for some way to get past the man, to reach the sapphires. But with that rifle trained on him, he stood no chance. Not tonight.

He nodded. “All right. As soon as you lower that rifle.”

The small man didn’t drop the barrel, but he stepped back, allowing Gil to slide between the trees and the rock, then start up the hill toward the apartment.

He had to fight to keep from showing his frustration. Especially with Jedidiah's gaze boring into his back like a physical weight.

Once he’d returned the lantern and matches to their places, he settled down on his pallet and stared at the dark ceiling once more.

Time was slipping away like sand through his fingers. One more day and night to get the stolen crates out and loaded on a wagon, then convince his brother to drive it.

He closed his eyes. Lord, I need Your help. Help me convince Sampson to leave this place. And show me a way to get those sapphires out. Give me an opportunity, before it's too late.

The night's silence was his only answer. But he had no doubt God heard him. How He would answer could sometimes look different than Gil expected.

He sighed and rolled to his side, willing his racing thoughts to be still.

Morning would come all too soon. He needed rest, needed to be sharp and ready for whatever challenges the new day would bring.

G il gripped Jess’s hand as they walked in the cool morning sunshine, following a path around the mountain. The path to Ezekiel’s grave. She’d not taken him this way before, and he was thankful they didn’t have to cut through one of the dark cave tunnels. The mood surrounding them this morning was dark enough. Seeing her good friend’s burial would be hard for her.

She turned away from the mountain, and they traipsed through tall grass toward a meadow broken only by scattered clusters of cedars. Between the trees ahead, a few men had gathered. Two still packed dirt on the grave, while others waited in respectful silence.

Sampson was one of the men working a shovel.

Gil’s throat tightened. At least his brother still possessed the willingness to do what he could for a friend and neighbor. Had he been close to Ezekiel?

As Gil and Jess reached the group, other men joined them, coming in twos and threes.

Jess’s hand tightened in his, and he followed her gaze to the wiry form of Jedidiah.

Gil didn’t let his frustration show. At least he’d given Jess room to be with Ezekiel in his last hours without bullying her.

Would he be as respectful now? A glance at his face showed a glare aimed directly at Gil. He must still be sore about their middle-of-the-night meeting.

Gil nodded and faced the grave. He needed to have his wits about him during this next hour.

They all gathered by the burial spot, forming a half-circle around the freshly-turned dirt. The tall trunks of a pine forest lined the opposite side of the grave. At least two dozen men stood here—more than he’d seen in the mine or the bunkhouse.

No one spoke at first, but a kind of hallowed reverence lingered in the air. Should he lead a prayer or a hymn or something? Jedidiah didn’t seem like he planned to speak. Was there another leader among the men?

Jess spoke before he could decide what to do, her voice trembling slightly. "Ezekiel was one of the best men I ever knew. He never complained, despite pain that would lay many men low. He was always ready with a kind word or a helping hand. I remember the first time I met him. He was sharing his meal with another man who’d come to us hungry. Along with the food, he shared his stories and his kindness. Ezekiel had a way of making even the darkest days seem brighter, just by being there."

She swallowed hard.

Her father had joined them, standing on Jess’s other side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close.

She ran her thumb over the back of Gil’s hand, then released it.

Gil was tempted to push McPharland’s arm away from her. The man couldn’t choose when he wanted to be a doting father and when he’d rather resort to threats. But Jess seemed to take comfort in having him there, and Gil wasn’t about to cause a ruckus during a funeral.

A fellow down the row cleared his throat. "I remember when I first joined up. I was green as grass and didn't know a thing about mining. Ezekiel took me under his wing, taught me everything he knew. Never once lost patience with me, even when I made numbskull mistakes."

Gil scanned the crowd until his gaze landed on Sampson. His brother had backed to the edge of the group, his face an unreadable mask. What was he thinking?

A thought slipped into Gil’s mind, faint but insistent.

As men told stories about Ezekiel, he could slip away unnoticed. Maybe Sampson would follow, and they could move the sapphires out of the cave twice as fast.

Would Jedidiah notice them leave? Would Mick?

If the other men did, would they raise an alarm?

The way Jedidiah and McPharland were both focused on the mound of dirt, he could probably shift backward and tuck behind a tree to signal Sampson.

As if God were orchestrating the situation, another miner stepped from the crowd to speak about Ezekiel.

Gil took the chance to shuffle backward, out of the midst of the group.

His brother’s gaze didn’t shift from the miner, but Gil had the feeling Sampson was tracking his movements.

He jerked his head toward the mountain.

Sampson’s brow gathered in curiosity, probably wondering why Gil wanted him to follow. But he nodded, the movement barely perceptible.

Gil stepped back and moved behind one of the bushier cedars so he was hidden from most of the men. He jerked his head toward the mountain once more, making his message clear.

Sampson slipped sideways into a thick cluster of trees on the far side of the semi-circle of men.

They each moved backward, shifting from one tree cover to the next until they’d left sight of the group.

Gil angled to meet his brother, keeping his voice to a whisper. “I need your help to move some crates. Is everyone there at the grave?”

Sampson gave him a sharp look but didn’t slow. Would he refuse to help? He’d told Gil to forget about the sapphires, but maybe since Gil had already found them…

Gil kept his voice low. “I know where about half of our sapphires are. I need to move them out to the woods.”

Sampson shook his head. “You’re asking for trouble.” They reached the open area beside the mountain, the massive cliff face looming ahead. Sampson stopped and turned to him. “Where are they?”

Maybe he would help.

Gil pointed toward the trail that led around the southern half of the mountain. “On the other side, there’s an older tunnel that looks like part of the original cave. It leads to the upper level of that bigger cavern. The storage room is about fifty yards in.”

Sampson spun and jogged toward a well-trodden area beside the mountain.

Gil followed, though it wasn’t the route he knew.

His brother slipped through a narrow opening in the rock, and when Gil did the same, the bunkroom opened up around him.

Sampson was still jogging. “Come on.” He must know a shorter path.

Gil ran behind him through the low cavern, catching up when Sampson paused to grab a lantern and light it. They continued into a narrow passageway, jogging again as they traveled deeper into the mountain. The air grew cooler, the tunnel leading into a cavern—the smaller one Jess had brought him to when he’d first met Ezekiel.

The stab of guilt surprised him, using the man’s funeral for his own purposes. But would another opportunity present itself?

Sampson turned toward the corridor that led to the larger cavern, but Gil’s gaze sought out the place Ezekiel had been cutting stone. Was that a pick lying on the floor? A weight pressed on his chest.

But he didn’t have time to grieve, Sampson had already disappeared into the next tunnel.

Gil lengthened his stride to catch up with his brother, and by the time they emerged into the larger cavern, he was breathing hard.

Sampson aimed toward the far wall to the left of where Jess had shown Gil the stalagmites, just under the wooden bridge that spanned the space above.

Sampson grabbed a rope beneath the bridge. As he pulled it out, the knots tied in the cord became apparent—all the way up to the higher level.

Sampson looked back at him. “The closet’s up there, right?”

Gil nodded. It felt like they’d been gone from the funeral a half hour, but this was a shorter path from the one he’d planned to use. And now he knew one more thing about these underground caves, a new way to maneuver should he have the need.

Sampson climbed the rope first, his broadened shoulders rippling under his shirt as he worked his way up. His little brother was little no longer.

Gil followed, the cord biting into his hands with a fury as he used all his strength to climb.

At last, they covered the short distance down the passageway until Sampson paused with the lantern in front of the hidden door.

How had he known it was here?

A question for another time.

Gil tugged on the lock like a handle. Had Jedidiah realized they’d left it unfastened? Apparently not, for the door shifted when he pulled. He opened it wide, revealing the floor-to-ceiling stack of crates.

One look at Sampson’s widened eyes showed he must not have known what lay within.

Gil motioned to their family’s crates. “These that look like ours are the only ones we move. The crates that are different stay.”

He reached for the crate he’d opened before and slid it off the stack. Could he carry two at a time? Maybe.

He grabbed a second, stacking it atop the first. The weight strained his shoulders and back, but he managed to lift them both, determination fueling his strength. Sampson followed his lead, hefting two crates as if they held feathers.

As they carried the boxes out of the storage room and down the passageway, Gil's mind raced. What if Jedidiah or one of the other men noticed their absence and came looking for them? Lord, let the men keep telling stories until we’re finished. This might have been a foolish idea, but it was the only opportunity he might have.

They emerged into daylight, and he blinked against the sudden brightness. No one was in sight, so he led the way across an open area into the woods. A few strides in, the underbrush grew thick, and he set his crates down. He could come back and conceal the boxes better once they had them all out.

“I'll bring a wagon here tonight." Gil muttered the words as he struggled to catch his breath. "Load these up, and you can drive it to the ranch tomorrow while I travel with Jess and her father."

Sampson set his load down and turned a frown on him. "I’m not leaving."

Gil started back toward the cave. "We have to get the sapphires back. Please, Sampson, I need your help."

Sampson strode past him. “We don’t have time to chatter.”

He was right. Gil pushed into a run over the open ground, and Sampson matched his pace.

Together, they made four more hurried trips. That left only two crates remaining from the Coulter stock.

Gil studied what remained. “Let’s stack up the rest of these in the front so it doesn’t look like anything’s missing.”

“We don’t have time. He’s probably realized we’re gone.”

Gil was already moving boxes, though. It would only take another minute if they both worked.

Sampson jumped in to help, and they got the front row full filled.

“There.” Gil blew out a breath. “We’ll lock it up, then I can take the last two while you head back.”

Sampson led the way out, and Gil pulled the door shut. The lock clicked, and he gave a test shake to make sure the mechanism had fastened. All set.

He turned back to the crates. “Take the lantern with you. Thanks for helping.” There was no way he could have moved the sapphires without being caught if he’d had to carry them all himself.

Sampson strode away with the light, leaving Gil in darkness as he hoisted the last two boxes. He’d traveled this path enough to manage without seeing.

As he took his first few steps down the passageway, the space didn’t feel as black as usual. Maybe his eyes were growing accustomed.

But then a light appeared around a curve in the tunnel. And it was growing brighter.