Scarlet Lies (Author's Cut Edition): Historical Romance Read online

  "You won't find men to work it. There's too much risk of it caving in."

  Brooklyn's voice rose. "I'll find men who will work for double pay," she said, jerking her chin upward to indicate the surface. "Or I'll find fifteen women who will do it for nothing!" Her announcement was greeted with silence. The miners behind her had stopped working, caught by the conflict between their foreman and the owner's wife. "Well?" she demanded of Greer. The mule brayed, giving his approval, for what it was worth. She looked back at the miners. "Well? Do you work on level four for double pay or do I ask the women?"

  One of the miners slung his pick over his shoulder. "Hell, Mrs. North, there ain't no reason to call the women—or pay us double." He stepped forward and put his hand between the mule's ears. "Me and this jackass will be workin' on four."

  Brooklyn closed her eyes briefly. "Thank you."

  "Me, too."

  "And me, ma'am."

  A chorus of ayes followed as the men stepped forward one by one. They filed past her, carrying their tools, and headed for the elevator. They glanced at her briefly as she nodded her gratitude, and they studiously avoided Greer's flushed and angry face. When they were gone, the mule included, the tunnel was silent.

  "I hope you don't regret this, Mrs. North," Greer said stiffly. "They're good men and I ain't wanting to call their women to C mine as well."

  Brooklyn did not reply. What he said was the truth and nothing she hadn't already thought of. But she could not dwell on it now. Ryland's life was at stake, and everything paled beside that fact. She lifted her skirts and turned on her heel. "I'm going to level four, if either of you care to accompany me." She walked away proudly, her head erect, her spine like a ramrod.

  Harry followed with a loping stride. Greer rolled up the plans, shoved them under his arm, and trailed after Harry at a slower pace.

  Brooklyn refused to leave the tunnel. When crews were replaced, she remained, sitting on the overturned barrel that Harry had found for her. The steady pounding of the pneumatic drill and the rhythm of the picking stretched her nerves tautly, but no one who glanced in her direction noticed anything about her except her waiting stillness.

  It was after midnight, the third crew already in place, when someone shouted for everyone to be quiet. Brooklyn tilted her head to one side, listening for the very sounds that demanded silence from all present. It was faint at first, a clawing and scratching that could have been the mule scraping his hoof against the track. But the mule was still.

  "It's them!" someone shouted. "They're digging to get to us!"

  "Put in the braces," another voice commanded. "Shore up that wall afore it collapses in on them!"

  The miners worked quickly but with the steady purpose of solid men who knew what they were about. Brooklyn slipped off the barrel and edged closer, her hands folded prayerfully in front of her. She had no concept of time as she stood there, watching the men drill, pick, and shovel. Carload after carload of debris continued to move on the track, and still the opening to the chamber on level four was not breeched.

  "How much longer?" she asked, speaking to no one in particular.

  Harry stood close at her side. "They have to be careful now, ma'am," he said quietly. "There's no danger of collapse from this side, but the others tunneling out don't have the equipment we do. When these men get an opening large enough they'll slip in beams first to protect the other side from falling in."

  "How many are still alive, do you think?"

  "I don't want to guess. There's at least one. Him that's clawing at t'other side. Maybe more." He shook his head. "I just don't know, Miz North."

  Brooklyn nodded. How else could she have expected him to answer? "Oh, look! They've got an opening!" She would have run forward but Harry's hand stayed her.

  "No. You'll only slow them down."

  "But I want to know about Ryland!"

  "Sure, and they want to know, too. They'll find out quick enough."

  One of the miners bent to the mouth of the hole that had been made. "How many alive?" he shouted.

  "We ain't none of us dead yet!" a voice returned. "Half a dozen hurt. We need braces ifn we're not all going to perdition."

  "Coming!" The miners began slipping thick wooden supports through the opening.

  Harry touched Brooklyn's shoulder. "I'm going up with Mr. Greer to get the litters and tell the women their men been found. Do you want to come?"

  "No. Not now. I have to see Ryland."

  He nodded and disappeared. Time lurched forward as if on awkward legs. The moments when the braces were passed through seemed to go by quickly, while the work on the other side of the rockslide seemed to drag on infinitely. Finally a voice called that they were withdrawing into the chamber so their rescuers could break through.

  "Clear!" a miner shouted. The drills hammered, and the men began to punch at the last few feet of wall with their picks. Stone and dirt flew in every direction. Brooklyn's eyes stung and her lungs were hot; her mouth was gritty with dust.

  "She's open! Damned if she didn't break like a sweet virgin!"

  Brooklyn's laughter broke through the silence that followed the miner's off-color but high-spirited analogy. "I believe she did," she said. "Now let's see what she yields."

  Half-clothed men, dirty and grimy from their labors, began to crawl over the rocks toward safety. Wide, white smiles split their blackened faces as they hobbled forward. One by one they were escorted away by their rescuers. Harry and Greer returned with the litters, and the stretchers were carried into the inner chamber where the injured men lay. By now Brooklyn knew that Ryland was among those hurt.

  She held her breath as the injured men were carried out. One had a smashed leg, another a dislocated shoulder. Three more followed, one scarcely breathing.

  At his own request, Ryland was the last to be brought out. His right arm lay at an awkward angle across his chest, and his smile was more of a grimace, but Brooklyn thought she had never seen anything sweeter. The pain in his eyes faded briefly, replaced by surprise and gladness when he saw Brooklyn. "I suppose you realize I wasn't hunting," he said softly.

  "It occurred to me." She bent and kissed his dirty cheek. A tear, his or hers, neither was sure, made a muddy track along his cheekbone. "We'll speak of it later." She straightened, placed her folded coat beneath Ryland's head, and spoke to the two miners carrying his litter. "Please take Mr. North up now."

  Ryland tried to sit up. "I can walk," he protested. "It's only my damn arm."

  Brooklyn gave him a quelling glance that said if he didn't humor her now there'd be hell to pay. "Take him up," she repeated. The men grinned, Ryland grunted, and Brooklyn had her way.

  Ryland was taken directly to the tent that had been set up for the injured. It was crowded with men and women but room was made for Ryland's litter. One of the wives stepped forward and grasped Brooklyn's hand, pumping it strongly. "Thank you," she said, tears glistening in her eyes. "Harry told us what you done. All the men would be carried out on litters, blankets over their faces, if it weren't for you." Embarrassed by her quavering voice, the woman disappeared quickly into the throng of people that had suddenly surged on Brooklyn.

  "Now stand back, everybody!" The doctor elbowed his way through the crowd and rolled up the cuffs of his shirt another inch, hiding the blood that stained them. "Those of you not hurt, or not kinfolk to the ones who are, get the hell out. You can thank the lady later." When the tent cleared, the doctor pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses with his forearm and spared a glance at Brooklyn. "I'm Doc Firth," he introduced himself, bending over Ryland. "Your wife's a feisty one, Ry. Now let's see your mettle." His hands traveled gingerly over Ryland's arm, straightening it as much as the break would allow. "Simple fracture. You want chloroform or bite-the-bullet?"

  "He'll take chlor—"

  "I'll bite—"

  Brooklyn and Ryland were simultaneously cut off as the doctor wrenched hard on Ryland's arm. Brook grasped the edge of the litter to keep her knees from b
uckling as Ryland's face whitened sickeningly and he cried out sharply, then fell silent.

  "There was no need to do that," she said sharply. "You offered chloroform."

  Doc Firth shrugged and began splinting Ryland's arm. "Truth is, I didn't bring any chloroform. Word was in town that no one was coming out alive. Now the word around here is that you made a difference."

  Ryland blinked. He hadn't fainted, only wished that he had. The pain in his arm eased to a throbbing ache. "What does he mean, Brooklyn?"

  "I'm sure I don't know," she said. Her meaningful glance was lost on Doc Firth.

  "What I mean is that the men were digging on five. On Greer's orders, of course. Your wife here threatened to call down the women to work on level four if the miners wouldn't do it. Leastways, that's the story I heard."

  Ryland looked at Brook for verification. "Is that true?" She nodded. "But how did you know?"

  "I studied your plans," she said simply. "It seemed to make more sense to try another approach."

  Ryland shook his head in wonderment. "There is no other like you."

  Doc Firth nodded. "That's the general opinion." He moved on to his next patient, having already cared for the critical.

  "Here, take your coat," Ryland said, lifting his head a little. "You're freezing."

  She did as he said, then drew a blanket over his shoulders, tucking it in around his feet. "Are we going to spend the night here?"

  "Not if I have anything to say about it. Check on the other men for me, will you? If they're going to be all right, save for some doctoring, then we're going back to the house."

  Brooklyn drew the doctor to one side and spoke to him in hushed tones. He assured her that even the men with the most critical injuries were stable now and going to be fine once he got them to town.

  "Doc Firth says we should plan on spending the night here," she told Ryland. "You're not fit for travel."

  Ryland grinned. "It's no good lying to me, Brooklyn."

  Brooklyn was saved a reply by Harry, who chose that moment to show up with Ryland's clothes.

  "Thought you might be wanting these, Mr. North," he said. "Found them in your locker at the entrance."

  "Harry," said Brooklyn, "Ryland wants to go home this evening. Would you consider accompanying us back to the house?"

  "Course, ma'am."

  "There's no need," Ryland objected.

  "There's every need. Harry will help you dress." She swept out of the tent.

  Harry smiled crookedly. "She's everything you said she was, sir."

  "And then some." Ryland grimaced, sitting up. "Come on, help me get into that shirt and coat before she's mobbed out there by all the C miners."

  Far from being mobbed, Brooklyn was talking quietly to Mr. Greer. She had purposely sought him out. "I want to apologize," she said, "if anything I did undermined your authority. It was never my intention."

  "I was never so pride-swelled that I couldn't admit when I was wrong, Mrs. North." The back of his hand scraped against his beard stubble in a thoughtful gesture. "It was your idea that saved your husband and the others. Seems to me that I can live with that."

  "You're very generous, Mr. Greer. I can promise you that I won't be interfering again." She touched his forearm with her mittened hand. "And thank you for sending Harry to the house for me. That was thoughtful of you."

  Greer nodded, tipping his hat. He pointed over Brook's shoulder to the tent where Harry and Ryland were emerging. "Mr. North's going back to the valley tonight?"

  "I can't talk him out of it."

  Greer whistled softly. "Now that's a bit hard to believe." He walked away, chuckling under his breath.

  "What did you say to make Joe Greer laugh?" Ryland wanted to know, coming abreast of Brooklyn. "He's the most humorless person I've ever met."

  "It was nothing," she said airily, determined to have a few secrets from Ryland. "Are we ready to go?"

  Harry raised his lantern and showed her the two pairs of snowshoes he held in his other hand. "We are that, ma'am. Mr. North's arm is splinted and slung. He'll be fine."

  Brooklyn wasn't so certain. There were tiny white lines carved at the corners of Ryland's mouth. She saved her breath, however, knowing the uselessness of arguing with him. Harry led the way while Brooklyn followed at Ryland's side, ready to lend support if he needed it.

  Harry halted at the entrance to the tunnel into the valley. "I think it's better if I go first," he said. "I'll send back the sled for Mr. North, then you, ma'am, and pull each of you up the grade. You can carry the lantern, Miz North."

  When Harry was gone Ryland turned a sheepish grin to Brooklyn. "How long have known about this tunnel?"

  "Since yesterday, when Harry came to the house and told me there'd been an accident."

  "Were you very angry?"

  "Angry?" Her brows arched in genuine surprise. "Ryland! I was scared to death that something had happened to you. I didn't have time to be angry about your secret tunnel." She tapped him on the chest with the point of her index finger, her eyes flashing brightly. "I'll be angry once I've had a good night's sleep."

  "Well, that's something to look forward to," he said dryly. He shrugged and immediately winced as his broken arm was jostled.

  Brooklyn noticed his pained movement and said nothing. Stubborn, stubborn man, she thought. "Here's the sled. I think it would be better if you lay on your back." Positioning Ryland on the flatbed cart was accomplished with no little difficulty and a lot of groaning and lip biting. "Can you reach over your head for the rope?"

  "I think so."

  "Give it a tug. Harry will pull you through." Brooklyn waited what seemed an eternity before the sled returned. She held the lantern awkwardly in front of her as Harry drew the cart into the valley. When she reached the other opening he helped her to her feet. Brook raised her light and looked searchingly at Ryland. She could not hold back her short gasp. His face was white, sweat beaded his brow and upper lip, and his eyes were bleak. "Ryland! What's wrong?"

  Ry put his good arm around Brook's shoulder, partly for support, partly for their mutual comfort. "It happens sometimes," he said lowly. "When a miner's trapped and survives the experience he's often afraid to be underground again. Going through that tunnel was like being forced back on a horse after a nasty fall. Actually, the experience was rather more than I bargained for. Getting on a horse again is easy."

  Brooklyn wiped Ryland's face with her mittened hand. "You've already done the difficult part," she said. "You went through the tunnel. The rest will come in time." Actually the thought of him going into the mines again filled her with dread, but it was his work, and she couldn't contribute to his fears with her own. "Let's go home."

  Harry slipped on his snowshoes and then helped Ryland into his. Their passage to the house was slow but without much faltering. Ryland's strength was nearly expired by the time they reached the porch. He leaned against one of the supports heavily, finding he had just enough left to kick off the snowshoes. Without a word from Brooklyn, Harry took her place at Ryland's side and assisted him into the house and up the stairs. Brooklyn ran ahead, turning back the bedcovers and starting a fire in the hearth. Ry was moaning softly while they undressed him with professional quickness and asleep by the time they tucked blankets around him.

  Brooklyn shut the door to the bedroom. "Can I make up a bed for you, Harry? We have two spare rooms. You're welcome to either."

  "No, ma'am." His weight shifted uneasily on his feet. "I'll be going back now."

  She smiled at his shy awkwardness. "Some coffee, then? I can't send you out in the cold without something to warm you up."

  "Coffee'd be fine, Miz North."

  Forty minutes later Brooklyn bid Harry farewell, watching at the window until his lantern light disappeared into the hillside. She smiled to herself, remembering his ruddy blush of embarrassment when she kissed his cheek and thanked him for all that he had done for her.

  Stripping off her filthy clothes in the bathroom, Bro
ok washed her smudged face and brushed out her hair before slipping into bed beside Ryland. She placed her pillow between their bodies so she wouldn't roll toward him and hurt his arm. Exhaustion made sleep very easy indeed.

  "What's this?" Ryland demanded, indicating the pillow wedged between their bodies.

  Brooklyn turned, smiling sleepily at Ryland's dear but dirty face. "It's a pillow," she said, yawning.

  "I know that, but what's it doing here?"

  "Bad-tempered this morning, aren't we?" She glanced out the window, then at the walnut clock ticking softly on the mantel. "Oh, dear. It's well past morning. And here you are chafing at the bit because you're not out of bed before me." She took the pillow, fluffed it and put it under her head. "I put it there so I wouldn't hurt you last night. It was either that or sleep elsewhere."

  "Oh."

  She brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

  "Like hell."

  "Harry gave me some laudanum for you. Compliments of Doc Firth."

  "I don't want any laudanum. Vile stuff."

  "Somehow I expected you to say that." She sat up, sliding her legs over the side of the bed.

  Ryland reached for her wrist. "Where are you going?"

  "I'm going to heat some water so I can bathe you."

  "I'm not an invalid."

  "Then I'm going to heat some water so you can bathe yourself. You look like you slept in the chimney, you know. While the water's heating I'm getting dressed, and then I'm going to take care of the animals."

  "I'll do that."

  She sighed. "Ryland, be reasonable. In a few days I'll gladly hand over those chores. Give your arm a rest." Without waiting for his further objections, Brooklyn went to the bathroom and began pumping water. When she returned to dress, Ryland was still sulking. "Tell me what happened yesterday," she said, stripping off her nightgown. "Greer said he thought it was an explosion that collapsed the tunnel."