Her heart raced as she tried to draw steady breaths. Ron had said horses were coming up the ridge, less than half an hour away. The fight would be upon them once they arrived.
She looked down to the crate of dynamite sticks at her feet and the punk that he had left smoldering on the opposite side of the room. Her lips still tingled from their last embrace, her arms still wishing he was here. If she could just stay wrapped up in him forever, she would.
But for now, she had a job to do. With a glance out the window, she surveyed the area leading up to the mine building. The various discarded diggings piles – maybe five or six – had the backsides dug away, exposing the dark wood of the concealed black powder kegs.
She had a decent vantage point from the highest stairwell landing and with the window glass knocked out, she should be able to easily throw out the odd stick of dynamite. But only if Dike and his men were somehow still managing to advance through the exploding black powder and the bullets.
She didn't know where exactly Gene and Ron were hid out. But she knew they were armed to the teeth. Rifles, shotguns, and their revolvers, of course. It was quite impressive, really. She couldn't help but wonder if Lew knew about this place, or if it was a secret that only Dick and Ron shared.
She glanced back around the stair landing, spying a thin stream of smoke still rising from the punk in the corner. Ron had told her that it would be quicker to touch off the sticks with it than trying to fumble with matches. She supposed it made sense. She'd never been in a straight gunfight before as a participant, but Ron assured her that as long as she stayed out of sight, she would be fine.
But then Gene had mentioned something - a Gatling something or other. Ron had cut him off pretty quick, but Gene had gotten far enough to mention that this Gatling thing could pierce through wood and metal. The thought was more terrifying than she wanted to admit. Ron's only dismissal had been that Dike probably couldn't get his hands on one so quickly, and nothing with how they should protect themselves against it.
A low rumble sounded outside. The thunder of approaching horse hooves. Fear spiked within her as she ducked back against the far wall, still trying to see out the window. A herd of men on horseback came up the mountainside - goodness, there were so many. She didn't like big numbers - maybe it was thirty? Forty? Or more?
She gulped nervously, eyeing the posse - all armed with rifles - as they slowed to a stop behind their obvious leader.
"Fugitives of the law!" Dike's voice was unmistakable. "Surrender the prisoner and yourselves, and no harm will come to you! You have my word!"
She wished Gene or Ron was here with her.
"Lily Martin!" Dike called out. "If you surrender, and turn over those that stole you from the scaffold - you, yourself, will be spared the noose! On my honor! Surrender now! You have a half minute! If you do not surrender, then we will open fire. I have over forty men out here!"
Her head shot up at the sound of Ron's voice. So clear, so strong.
"Don't mistake this for a surrender."
She took a step away from the wall to better see. Ron's arms were up, hands open and palms up as he walked right towards Dike. She wanted to scream, her heart pounding.
"Call this a parlay." Ron continued, still approaching Dike with measured steps.
"A what?" Dike snarled, rifle poised.
"A parlay - hm, like the pirates of old?" He paused, with no recognition from Dike. "Then, let's call this a setting of terms. We converse, and you do me no harm until our conversation concludes and I retreat."
Dike hitched the rifle back, considering. "I suppose I can grant a dead man a last request. Very well, Speirs."
Ron lowered his hands, bracing one on his hip. "The way I see it. This is very simple. We have an arrest warrant for one Norman Dike - wanted on at least two counts of murder and one count of conspiracy. And a warrant for one Herbert Sobel will likely follow. So, I'd recommend you make this easy and surrender quietly. Otherwise, you'll take all these men with you."
Dead silence followed Ron's words. She licked her lips nervously, watching as Dike sat stock-still on his horse, staring down at the man she loved. God, she hoped he knew what he was doing.
Dike chuckled softly. "What lies you weave, Speirs. That may work on the hooples in Bluewater, but I refuse to dignify those accusations with any sort of response."
"That's the beauty of a warrant. We're past accusations and into proven crimes."
"Bullshit! You've got nothing!" Dike roared. "You've had nothing! Just the stupidity to spring a convicted criminal from the jaws of justice right as her just desserts were about to be served. Now, you surrender that whore, and maybe, we'll work on a version that doesn't end with your neck also in a noose."
She couldn't see Ron's face to know his expression, but he stood unmoving, presumably staring at Dike.
"Alright." He sounded so disturbingly calm when he finally spoke. "Alright, that's how you want this done." With an abrupt turn, he started back for the mine building.
"Speirs! Don't do this! You can't win and you know it! This doesn't gain you anything!" Dike seethed, visibly agitated as he watched the other man continue to retreat. "Fine! Then, I'll make this easier for you!" He leveled his rifle at Ron's back, lining up the sight.
She rushed for the window, a cry lodged in her throat as a shot rang out and Ron took off in a dead run towards the building, beyond where she could see. More shots started firing. Men's shouts added to the cacophony and she froze, unsure just what to do.
The men on horseback were starting to scatter and disperse. Surely, some of the shots she heard were coming from Gene and Ron? A man fell from his horse, and another. There were too many moving around for her to keep track of Dike - all dressed in a mix of dark clothing and hats.
Puffs of smoke rose from the men who managed to shoot back. She stepped forward, trying to get a better view. A small column of men moved forward through the fray, advancing on the building. Were they too far away for a dynamite stick? She looked to the crate anxiously.
A loud boom and a cloud of smoke rose up outside. Her gaze snapped back to the window to see the carnage the first black powder barrel had left – charred diggings, men unmoving on the ground, hoses fleeing.
A second explosion roared with a flash of fire and smoke, horses rearing up to throw their riders to the ground. True enough, she did see some of the men towards the rear turn and head back down the mountainside. She couldn't help a small, victorious grin. Maybe more would follow them and this would all be over.
Sharp cracks of rifle fire still rang out, men falling from their horses as the shots landed. A rallying cry sounded from the men under attack, and a small group - six or seven strong - surged forward towards the mine building. One fell under a bullet, slumping over his horse. Another black powder barrel exploded off to their right, but it only felled one rider towards the rear.
She scrambled for the smoking punk across the room, running over to the crate and pulling out a dynamite stick. The fuse looked long enough – hopefully it wouldn't burn too quick. She touched the punk to the fuse and it caught with a spark and sizzle. When should she throw it? When was it best to explode?
In an uncertain panic, she lobbed it out the window and scurried to the opposite side of the landing. The building shook with the force of the explosion, dust and dirt falling from the wooden beams.
She peeked forward, not able to see much through the cloud of black smoke – but the charge had stopped, men were on the ground or struggling to get their horses under control. Had…had she killed any? Another man fell from horseback with a cry and spray of blood from a bullet, and she couldn't be sure.
One man was calling out indiscernible shouts and calls – trying to make sense of the chaos. Dike, presumably. Another charging flank mounted up on the far side, coming hard. She watched Ron and Gene's shots find some of their marks but there were too many still coming. She waited for a barrel to explode. But nothing.
With a nervous lick of her lips, she reached for another stick of dynamite, poised to light it. The riders kept coming, rifles at the ready. She touched the punk to the end of the fuse, and threw it out – just in time to see Ron's rangy form dart out from the building.
"Ron!" The explosion swallowed her scream as her heart stopped.
The dynamite burst in a magnificent spray of dirt and smoke, but Ron didn't seem to slow down. What the hell was he doing? He charged through the smoke cloud, leaping across the crater with a hand on his hat to hold it down as he continued to run.
She didn't understand how the men on horseback weren't shooting at him. Or were they and just missing? Could they not believe what they were seeing? She sure as shit couldn't.
He dove behind a diggings pile, the edge of a black powder barrel just exposed. She forgot how to breathe as she watched him reach for the barrel, the rest of his movements blocked by his body. What the fuck was he doing? One errant shot in his direction and that barrel would go up. Just like that. No more Ron.
Fear gripped her, powerless to do anything but watch the insanity – Ron at the diggings pile; the charge of men stalled by the latest explosion and Gene's covering fire.
Ron finished his task, and turned around, still shielded by the pile of diggings. He looked off to his left, swiping his right hand along the brim of his hat in a gesture she vaguely recognized as one of the company's unspoken signals. With a graceful motion, he pushed off the diggings pile, sprinting back for the cover of the building as rifles fired after him.
In the split second that the next sharp rifle crack sounded, the diggings pile Ron vacated burst into a brilliant fireball. She just saw his tall figure disappear into the shadow of the building as flames leapt into the air.
What had he done? None of the previous barrels had blown up like that. And fuck, had Ron been shot in his getaway? It would have been hard to miss him.
More indiscernible shouting sounded and…the men stopped their forward advance, falling back just beyond the last diggings pile, leaving their fallen comrades behind and regrouping. She cursed her lack of numbers – had they even cleared half? It didn't look like it. Why weren't they still coming? Did this mean they had won?
Clanking rattles echoed up the trail, coupled with the telltale rumble of something much larger than a man on horseback. She forced a hard swallow, a newfound fear prickling her spine.
A cart emerged out of the trees, with tall wide wheels to carry the load. But it wasn't a wagon. Sweet merciful lord. It looked like a larger version of the riles the men carried on a platform. The metal barrel gleamed ominously in the sunlight as the men rolled it into position, far away from the nearest black powder barrel. Dike's men descended on it as it rolled to a stop – securing the wheels, climbing onto the platform, unloading long strings of large bullets.
"Lily!" Ron's voice carried up the stairwell. "We need to go. Come down. Now!"
She tossed the smoking punk out the window with a final glance at the men preparing whatever that thing was before fleeing down the stairs. She didn't know she could run that fast.
She reached the bottom, breathing hard, eyes wide with fear as they met Ron's. "What – are you ok? What is that thing?"
"I'm fine." He snapped, face flecked with dirt, rifle slung over his shoulder. "It's a Gatling gun and this building doesn't stand a chance. Follow me."
She tried to tramp down the hurt that reared its head through the fear as she followed him further back into the building. The back wall had three corrugated metal outcroppings built into it, each with a rickety looking wood door concealing whatever was inside. Ron walked up to the metal shed on the far left, throwing the door open to reveal darkness inside.
A damp, musty darkness.
He disappeared inside and motioned for her to follow. Cracks of light poured in through the slapped together metal sheets, wood floorboards ended in dirt, and she found herself staring into a gaping hole in the side of the mountain. The crudely shaped metal hut butted up to the rock face of the mountain, and she could just make out a few wood beams bracing the mine shaft, crusted with something white and stringy.
She gulped nervously. "We're…we're in the mine."
"Yes. The Gatling bullets will get through the front of the building easily enough, but the metal and rock will slow them down." He pointed down the mine shaft. "You'll find a couple of crates a little ways back. Go get behind them."
She squatted down, eyeing the opening wearily. When standing, the top beam had barely reached her belly. The damp, musty smell was stronger down here and she could just hear the sound of water trickling and dripping in the cool air. The darkness from within ate up the light that filtered in from the cracks and still open door. A shiver raced along her skin.
"Are you sure that it's," she swallowed hard, "that this shaft won't collapse?"
All at once, hell opened up - the sound of splintering wood, the building shaking, groaning as the Gatling gun unleashed its barrage.
The main beam of light disappeared as he slammed the door shut against the onslaught. "Go! Go!"
She screamed, startled by his unexpected push as he crowded her into the shaft. It was impossible to see as her crouching movements carried her forward, hands out to catch herself if she fell on the uneven ground. At length, she ran into the solid pile of crates, feeling her way around the edges.
"Here, get behind it." Ron encouraged, helping her feel around in the dark. With her fingers poised on the crate edge, she peeked over the top towards the metal shed through which they entered, feeling Ron crowd in next to her. He angled his body into the crates, arms resting on top of the crate, rifle poised at the door.
The hail of bullets outside the rickety door seemed endless. Even more unnerving were the few that found their marks in the metal hut, punching holes to let pale pinpoints of light shine through. She didn't understand the first thing about this Gatling gun, but it had a terrifying power.
"Where's Gene?" Her voice trembled.
"He has his own mine shaft."
"How…." Another shiver raced through her. "How long can that Gatling thing go?"
"Until they run out of bullets. I doubt Dike left that to chance, though."
"So, we…we have to stay here?" She drew a trembling breath. "Until what…? They run out? Or starve us out?"
"Don't count us out so easily."
As fast as the bullet hellfire had started, silence fell. The last echoes died in the shaft, leaving an eerie stillness. She wrenched another hard swallow, staring ahead at the metal hut and the pinpoints of light. This was almost worse than the previous bullet barrage.
She felt Ron tense at her side, his posture sharpening as he sighted the rifle. Thudding footfalls sounded on the wood floor beyond the metal.
"Get down." His voice was a deadly whisper and she didn't hesitate. She ducked down behind the stack of crates, a tear rolling down her cheek. How long had she been crying?
She had no concept of time as she lay against the damp, cool ground, hidden behind the crates and shielded against Ron's side. She could just make out shadows moving across the pinpoints of light against the mine shaft walls, hear the stomping of boots and the muffled voices of conversation. The Gatling thing was too big to get inside, right? She didn't want to imagine what would happen to them if the Gatling gun opened up at close range.
A loud bang shook the walls of the shaft, Ron scrambling to duck behind the crate with her, a curse on his lips. Loose rock dust fell from the beams as light poured into the shaft. She turned her wide-eyed gaze to Ron, terror plainly across her face. What had just…? Had they…? At least, the thick column of light shining down the shaft allayed her worst fear that they were buried alive.
"Careful now, Speirs!" Dike's voice echoed down the shaft. "Wouldn't want you to catch a splinter or lose an eye before I can see you hanged. Hell, maybe I can get you quartered and drawn for this level of legal offense."
"Don't you worry." Speirs called back, voice taught. "Still fit to fight."
"But you have no way out. Don't you see that it's over? I've cornered you – like a troublesome rat. And now, all I have to do is put you down." A pause fell. "You know, this would make a fitting tomb for the three of you."
"He ain't stupid enough to believe that." Gene's voice sounded down the shaft, and she couldn't stop her gasp or the clench of her heart. How did they get to Gene?
Ron didn't look any more concerned at the revelation.
Dike chuckled. "Well, he doesn't have reason to think I need to take him alive. If a bullet had already caught him, then we wouldn't be here." A crouching shadow blocked the light in the shaft. "What do you say, hmm?" Dike's voice was much clearer now. "Are you gonna come out and surrender, or does your friend here go the way of a wooden box?"
Ron snorted. "You'll have us all in wooden boxes if I come out."
"You still think there's a scenario here where that doesn't happen?"
"It's not over until it's over."
"I admire your bullheaded spirit, Speirs. It's a special kind of stubborn that I don't find very often. But lucky for you, I relish the challenge."
She cried out as a gunshot sang off the stone walls. The bullet pinged off the rock, quickly followed by another shot. She curled into Ron instinctively, tucking herself tighter.
"I like that." Ron called out, angling his head around her to let his voice carry. "You can keep that up."
"Not likely. As much fun as it would be to just end you here, I'd rather see you all made prime examples of for the good townspeople. Let them see your corpses rot high on scaffolds until the vultures have left only the bones." The shadow moved up and away form the mouth of the tunnel. "Come on, get a fire going."
A fresh wave of fear overtook her. She knew the stone wouldn't burn, and they couldn't feasibly set fire to the smattering of beams that held the shaft open. But the smoke? Just how long was this shaft?
"You shouldn't waste your time." Ron said. "Smoking us out won't be possible. This is a deep shaft."
"Don't give him the satisfaction, Ron." Gene called back, disappointment coloring his words.
"Ron?" Dike's voice was heavy with surprised disgust. "Ron? Short for Ronald? That's the infamous R.C. Speirs' first name?" A light round of laughter sounded from the collected assembly outside the mine. The shadow returned to the tunnel entrance. "Ronald, is it? Hmm? You know, I can see why you don't want anyone knowing that – Ronald loses all air of mystery, or fear. No one would ever be afraid of a Ronald. But it's worth it to be afraid of a man only known as Speirs." Dike laughed shortly. "My hat's off to you for that one, Ronald."
Ron grit his teeth. "I'm glad you approve, Norman."
"Though, a'couse, you understand that we'll have to go back and amend your wanted posters and paperwork, Ronald. We can't have an inaccurate record, now."
"Of course not."
Another breathy, amused chuckle floated down the shaft. "Oh, this is an unexpected delight, Ronald." His shadow moved away with another pleased sound. "Ah, lovely. That fire should do nicely, boys. Set it there – yes, at the mouth of the shaft." Her heart started to race at the implication. "Here, boys, use your hats."
Air started to move through the shaft, bringing with it just the faintest – for now – smell of smoke. But it wouldn't be long until it overwhelmed them. She licked her lips nervously, looking to Ron for a sign of anything. He'd thought about so much – what was next? How were they going to get out of this?
Much to her surprise and growing fear, he did nothing. He didn't move or offer anything further to Dike. What…was that all? Was this the end?
A cough bubbled up in her throat, irritated by the growing presence of smoke. Tears pricked in her eyes as all she could do was curl tighter into him, trying to burrow into him. What she wouldn't give to have his arms around her, but he was still poised – still tense with a coiled, fighting instinct. To fight against what though, at this point, she didn't know. Another cough rattled her throat, matched by one low and rough in his throat.
At least they were together.
"Stand aside! Marshal Dike, stand down!"
"Gene!"
"Nice'n easy, now."
"Where's Ron?"
"Down the shaft, sir."
She'd never been so happy to hear Dick and Lew's voices before. And there was someone unfamiliar with them – the first man who ordered Dike around and was still directing orders. Another cough burned her throat as tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Get that fire out of the way. Right now!" Lew's words were sharp on the command. More shuffling of shadows and the influx of smoky air dropped off. "Ron? Lily? You alright?"
All the tension drained out of Ron's body as he slumped against the crates, boneless. "Alright." He called back, voice scratchy. "We're alight."
"Glad to hear it."
Ron sighed, eyes dropping closed as he raised a trembling hand to the bridge of his nose.
Unspeakable relief washed over her as her mind struggled to process and register that it was over. They were safe. And she wasn't going to die in a mine shaft. Or, at least, not today. She raised a hand to wipe at her tears, noting her own hand also shaking.
"Can…can you walk?" Exhaustion hung on his words. "Come on, we'll feel better once we're out of here." He held out a hand as he moved, struggling to his feet and help her up. Numbly, she went with him – still trying to find words, still trying to unwind from so much fear.
The scene outside the shaft was unbelievable. The wood front of the building was largely obliterated, debris and splinters everywhere. She could just make out Dike and the row of men with him, all with their hands up, surrendered just outside. That same authoritative voice could just barely be heard outside, issuing sharp orders and commands. Gene was free of any captors, holding out a helping hand at the shaft entrance on one side with Lew on the other.
She reached a hand out, squinting at the brightness, finding it enveloped in Gene's as he helped her stand upright on shaking legs.
"It's alright, Lily – look at me." He coaxed gently as she slowly raised her head. She met his gaze, noting the concern pinching his brow. "You're shaking – we need to get you a blanket."
"A blanket?" Dick confirmed, moving through the room with intent. "Just one?"
"Might make it two." Lew said, hand braced on Ron's shoulder as he stood, shaking his head, drawing deep breaths.
She sniffled, looking at Gene. "How…how'd they capture you?"
"I let them. That was part of the plan."
"Part of the plan?" She struggled to understand. How was Gene getting caught part of the plan?
"Here, how about we sit, hmm?" He suggested softly, steering her over towards an old desk. "Once we're out of here, I'll explain the whole thing. Or Ron can. Whoever you'd like."
Dick interrupted with a soft word, handing a blanket over which Gene accepted with a silent nod. He unfurled it and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Ron coughed, begrudgingly taking the other blanket from Dick. "You sure took your time getting here."
Lew snorted. "Well, you know – we had to make some stops."
"Our two days turned into three." Dick said firmly. "Marshal Sink was delayed a day, which slowed us down more than I would have liked."
"More than I would have liked, too." Ron admitted.
"You did good, Ron." Dick clapped a hand to the other's shoulder with an encouraging nod. "I couldn't be prouder. This place turned out to be great investment."
Lip cleared his throat, sticking his head in through the building's damaged front. "Excuse me, major. Sink's asking for you."
"Alright." He let go Ron's shoulder, moving to follow Lip back outside.
Gene's voice brought her attention back. "I'm gonna go check on Ron - you alright to stay here?"
She gently nodded. "I think so. Thank you." Her mouth lifted in a tired smile as he nodded gently before stepping away.
She sniffled, clutching the blanket tighter around her. Even though the truth of it was all around her, it was still difficult to comprehend.
They had won. They had fucking won.
She wasn't sure if Ron had been telling the truth when he talked about an arrest warrant for Dike, but he must have been. Would this Sink person lead him away in chains? Tied to the back of his horse in disgrace?
She had to see. Slowly, she rose, taking careful steps over to the nearest hole in the building front. Dick was talking in soft tones with an older man, grizzled with experience and a well-kept mustache. She could only guess that was Marshal Sink. As for Dike, he stood with the rest of his posse, a suitably irate scowl marring his face. He probably thought he was safe, that he was going to smoke them out. But they'd held on. They'd held out.
Tears wet her eyes as she continued to survey the destruction. Several bodies lay strewn about, stopped by either a bullet or black powder. It was almost amazing that man was so capable of destroying his fellow man. The war between brothers must have been truly horrific. She swallowed nervously as she glanced over to the Gatling gun, still smoking as it stood silent vigil over the scene. If she never saw one of those again, it would be too soon.
It looked like there was also a diggings pile with an unexploded black powder barrel and she stared at exposed, hastily dug hole. The memories of watching Ron run out into the open fire, directly into the path of the dynamite stick flooded back. How terrified she'd been to see him, how paralyzed to do anything but watch him be blown to bits. Who did he think he was to take a risk like that? Did he spare any thought for her before charging out there?
She turned back over her shoulder to see him, still standing with a similar blanket around his shoulders, looking younger than she'd ever seen him. Lew was saying something in hushed tones as he glanced out front, with both Gene and Ron listening close. But the more she looked at Ron – the more she started to seethe, a storm of emotions welling within her. Relief. Love. Anger. Fear.
"Lily…you alright?" Lew' sudden words were distant in her ears as she only had eyes for Ron.
"You stupid bastard." She grit, voice trembling as she drew deep, shaking breaths. "Who do you think you are? Pulling a stunt like that? Did you think about it, hmm?" At least he had the decency to look guilty as she started to walk towards him, tears in her eyes. "Did you think what would happen? If that powder had gone off – if I had to watch you get blown–!" Her words choked off in a scream as the floorboards underneath her gave.
She could just hear their panicked cries as the ground continued to fall away beneath her, darkness around her. With a heavy crunch, she landed at the bottom of the sinkhole, a cry tearing from her lips as pain exploded in her left leg and arm.
"Lily!" Ron's voice held a barely contained edge of panic.
"Go get a rope!" Gene said. "Lily – can you move?"
"A…a little." She choked off in a pained wince. "My leg's bleeding and my…my arm hurts."
"Nothing on your midsection?" Gene called back down.
She hastily looked down, in the dim light. "No…least, I don't' think so." She could gingerly pick at her leg, noting the large splinter embedded in her thigh. As for her arm, well, she had landed on it.
"That's good. You're gonna be alright." Gene encouraged. "Hold tight. Though, we should all be careful of sinkholes in this deathtrap." He glared over at Ron who sent him back a look that could kill.
"Here, rope." Lew sounded out of breath as she saw his face reappear over the hole. "And a lantern, in case."
"Think you can hold on?" Gene called down calmly, unfurling the rope.
"I don't…I don't know. My arm really hurts."
"Alright, then." Gene said, unbothered. "I'll come to you. You just sit tight. Hand me that bandage roll, will ya?"
"Hey, Lip!" Lew stood up, moving back for the front of the building. "We need you - Lily found a sinkhole."
She sniffled, glancing around as the end of the of the rope fell into view.
"Alright, careful now, y'all." Gene's voice drew up her attention back up.
"You be careful." Lip's calm voice joined in. "Don't disturb anything."
"No, sir."
The smaller, lithe young man sat on the edge of the hole in the floor, reaching for the dangling edge of the rope. With a quick motion he anchored the rope between his feet, swinging out into the hole. She heard the collective grunts of at least the three other men who were counterbalancing the other end of the rope.
"Aw, see? This ain't so bad." Gene's carefree tone threatened a laugh in her throat. His boots hit the pile of dirt, rocks and rotten floorboards next to her. "And to think, we just got you out of a dark shaft. If you wanted to go back down here, you should've just said so."
"Next time." She sniffled, smiling in relief as Gene crouched down next to her, reaching for her right hand with a reassuring squeeze.
"Now, let's see what we got here." He soothed, looking down to her leg.
Lew's teasing voice drifted down. "You must have really done something, Sparky. I didn't know it was possible to be so angry as to stomp clear through the floor. You better marry that girl."
"I will." The conviction in Ron's voice sparked a fierce pride in her. "And soon."
"She's a lucky woman." Dick's warm voice floated into the conversation, and she glanced up to see the tender look shared between Dick and Lew. It brought all sorts of questions to mind. Questions she didn't dare voice here, but once she was out of here and had Lew alone - she would demand answers.
"Lucky is right," Lip added with a nod, surveying the hole that had opened up. "Sinkholes around mines are no laughing thing."
"Yeah, to that point." Gene looked up from wrapping her leg. "How's about y'all getting us outta here?
"Don't go far Dick," Lew said, looking between Dick and the bottom of the sinkhole. "We'll need you to get them up here. Hell, we should use Dike and his posse to lift them up. Why break our backs when…" He trailed off, squinting down in the hole. "What...what is that? Gene - off to your left, there. What's that...it's catching the light?"
She did her best to look as Gene gazed over, reaching out to gingerly touch an exposed rock. It was oddly clear...maybe it had a blue tint? Or was that just the pale light?
"Can't say for sure." Gene called back. "Send down the lantern if you want an answer. But make it quick! I ain't dying for a rock."
"I don't think that's a rock." Lew said as Ron quickly pulled the rope up, tying the end to the lantern. The spray of light as the lantern moved down the sinkhole illuminated so much more. Their mouths fell open, taken aback as sparkles lit from all over the interior.
Brilliant, bright blue sparkles.
