Chapter 21
" C ara? Honey, are you all right?"
Cara forced herself to focus on Michael's face, pushing her panic down.
Whatever was going to happen was going to happen.
She'd learned a long time ago that she had no control over life.
And nothing happening now had changed her opinion.
She squared her shoulders. Their immediate concern had to be getting Michael to Patrick.
"I'm fine." She'd face the enormity of what she was doing later.
When she had the luxury. Glancing to the shifting shadows beyond the lamplight, she pulled in a fortifying breath. "Let's get out of here."
Michael squeezed her shoulder, then bent to pick up the lantern, already moving toward the front of the tunnel.
She started to follow and then noticed the pack of matches at her feet.
'Waste not want not' and all that. She scooped them up and stuffed them in her pocket, wondering if John Heywood had ever thought about time travel, then quickened her pace, following the pale glow of Michael's lamp.
Rounding the last bend of the tunnel, she skidded to a stop, the sunlight filtering in through the opening a truly awesome thing to behold.
It played off the rock walls, making them glisten and glitter.
Michael was already heading outside, his mind obviously centered on the task of finding his brother and keeping him alive.
She started to follow just as he stepped out into the sunshine.
One second she saw his silhouette outlined by the sun, and the next, he disappeared and everything went dark.
Deep impenetrable black. Fear stung her throat as she swallowed a scream.
She forced herself to walk forward, hands extended, choking back a sob.
Panicking wouldn't help. In only a few short steps, her worst nightmare was confirmed as her hands touched the sharp-edged roughness of the cave-in.
Michael was gone. She sank to her knees, trying to think.
She'd watched him walk out of the tunnel. The sunlight had been blinding. One minute he was there, and the next—gone. Safe in his own time. Which meant she was alone in her own time, with no way out. As if to underscore the thought, a flurry of rocks rained down from the ceiling.
"Cara?"
She jerked up. "Michael? I'm here." She could hear his voice from the other side of the rocks. Then, suddenly, he was there and the mine was filled with light again. She flung herself into his arms, content for the moment just to feel his heart beating next to hers.
"What happened?" His voice caressed her ear. "You disappeared."
She sucked in a breath, still trying to calm herself. "I don't know." She paused, trying to force the words out. "One minute you were there and then you were gone."
He massaged her back with one strong hand, the other reaching under her chin, tipping her head up. "You were still in your time."
She closed her eyes and drew in a calming breath, exhaling slowly. "Trapped."
He frowned at the entrance, tantalizing now with its false offer of freedom. "But I got out."
"Into your own time, Michael. Maybe we're destined to stay where we belong." She tried but couldn't keep the hopelessness from her voice. "I can't go through those rocks. I can't go back to your time."
"I won't accept that." His eyes flashed with anger.
She shook her head, shaking off her self-pity. "You may not have a choice."
He frowned considering what she'd said. "There's always a choice, Cara. And I will not leave you here to die."
"So what? You'll stay here and die with me? You'll let Patrick die, too?" She tried but couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. Everything she cared about she lost. And now, in some bitter sort of irony, she was going to have to force him to leave her to die.
"You're making this all too cut and dried. There has to be a way out."
"Maybe. I don't know." She ran a hand through her hair, trying to fight against the feeling of inevitability. "But the fact remains that you got out and I couldn't."
He shook his head. "It doesn't make sense. I just crossed into your time, and left the tunnel. And when I found you in the snow we were outside the tunnel."
"So maybe you're the time traveler, not me."
He sat down beside her, staring out at the sunlight. "But, you can see the sunlight, can't you? You can touch the lantern. They're both in my time."
He held the lantern out and she ran one finger along the base, a tiny flicker of hope blossoming within her. "But that's only in the tunnel."
He blew out a breath. "Well then it must be something to do with the locket."
She felt hope die. "Great. It's buried under ten tons of twenty-first century rock."
He wrapped an arm around her. "Cara, we're not giving up that easily."
"But I don't see how…"
"We'll try going out together." She opened her mouth to argue, but he covered her lips with a finger. "If that doesn't work, we'll figure out something else. I'm not leaving you."
"But your brother…" How could she expect him to choose?
He met her gaze, his eyes reflecting an emotion she suddenly found herself wanting desperately to identify. "I'm not going to leave you." He grabbed her hand, his fingers wrapping securely around hers. "Ready?"
She nodded and allowed him to pull her forward slowly. She concentrated on the swaying green of the spruce tree. The warmth from Michael's hand radiated up her arm, infusing her with courage. One step at a time.
She stepped again and a wrenching pain seared up her arm.
She jerked back, rocks scraping her. It was almost as if she was pulling her arm out of the debris.
Black descended again, but this time the accompanying fear was duller, more resolute.
Some part of her had already known what the outcome would be.
"Michael? Can you hear me?"
It happened like before. One minute it was dark, and the next, the cavern was filled with light, the change occurring so quickly it made her dizzy.
Michael swept her into his arms, the force of his embrace lifting her off the ground, cradling her against his chest. "We're going again.
Hold on tight." His voice was strained with anxiety.
"I can't."
"Yes you can." His tone brooked no argument. "You just have to hold onto me. I won't let anything happen to you. Believe in me , Cara."
She tried to push her doubts aside, wrapping her arms around his neck, comforted by the smell and feel of him. "Are you ready?" She nodded, afraid to say anything, feeling his muscles tighten and bunch as he prepared to run.
The dark was almost overpowering this time.
She could feel it all around her. The stones scraped her arms and legs, the weight of all the rock crushing down on her.
She tried to focus her thoughts on Michael, to hold tightly to him, but she could no longer feel him, only the darkness.
It ebbed and flowed around her. Cold. So cold.
She tried to fight it, to hold on, to find Michael, but there was nothing but the icy darkness and the crushing weight of the rock.
She knew she was dying, was certain of it somewhere deep inside, and with a soft sigh, she let go.
"Cara, sweetheart, can you hear me?" Her hands felt like ice. He rubbed them between his own, willing her to open her eyes and look at him. Her breathing was shallow, but right now any movement was a positive sign.
He closed his eyes, for a moment reliving the absolute terror of their exit from the tunnel. He'd actually felt her being ripped from his arms. He'd tightened his grip, his muscles twisting with pain as he'd struggled to maintain his hold.
He shook his head. He'd taken a huge risk, literally dragging her into his time, but she was safe, and right now that was what mattered most. He opened his eyes and studied the porcelain texture of her face.
Even asleep she was beautiful. His heart rate increased as he thought again how close he had come to losing her.
Nothing was as important as keeping her alive. Nothing.
She moaned, the small sound seeming to reverberate off of his soul. With a flicker, her eyes opened and she looked up at him. "Michael? Where are we?"
He helped her sit up, keeping an arm around her. "Judging from the size of the spruce, I'd say we're back in my time."
Fear flickered across her face, but almost as quickly it was gone, and she smiled hesitantly. "As long as we're out of that tunnel, I'm happy to be anywhere."
He ran a gentle hand along the line of her jaw. "I thought for a minute there I was going to lose you."
She shivered, lost in memory, then squared her shoulders meeting his gaze. "But you didn't."
"I'm sorry about all this." He waved a hand in the direction of the spruce, the little tree signifying everything.
"We've covered that ground before. You've saved me—again. Right now that's all that matters, that and finding your brother." She met his gaze squarely. "When the time comes, I'll find my way home."
Michael winced. He couldn't, wouldn't think about losing Cara again. Not now. Maybe not ever. He'd just have to find a way to convince her to stay.
But first he had to make things right. And to do that, he had to save his brother. "There's a line shack not far from here. I can leave you there until I find Patrick."
Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. "No way, Michael. Until we resolve this, whatever we do, we do it together." She crossed her arms and squinted at him angrily, looking like a bizarre cross between an avenging angel and a street urchin.
She stood up, wiping her hands against her jeans, all business now. "What do we do first?"
A sense of pride welled up inside him, and something else, something powerful and possessive.
She was the most amazing woman he had ever known.
And he'd be damned if he'd let her willingly walk out of his life.
He forced himself to focus on her question.
There'd be time to examine his fragile new emotions later.
"Can you handle a gun?"
"Like a pro. My grandfather taught me to shoot about the same time he taught me to ride." She smiled up at him, determination glinting in her eyes. "But, Michael, where are we going to get weapons?"
"There'll be some in the line shack. We'll go there, and then we'll head to Clune."
"Can you see anything?" Loralee poked her nose above the windowsill, searching the yard for some sign of their tormentor.
"Stay low." Patrick glanced over at her, then returned his gaze to the ranch yard.
"I can't stand much more of this." Loralee kept her voice pitched to a whisper. Pete was sleeping and there was no sense waking the man. "It's like torture, Patrick. Waiting and waiting. If we're such sitting ducks, why doesn't he just kill us?"
Patrick reached over and covered her hand with his, the contact comforting. "He's got a mind of his own, that's for sure. But he knows what he's doing. Any overt movement on our part, and he'll pick us off one by one."
Loralee squared her shoulders, determined not to give in to her fear.
This was by far the worst spot she'd been in over the years, but that didn't mean she hadn't had her share of trouble.
And she'd survived it all. And truth be told, she wasn't planning on kicking the bucket just yet.
"There's got to be something we can do." She glanced over her shoulder at Pete.
"He's got a fever, Patrick. I don't know how much longer he can hold out. "
Patrick ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up every which way. "I've been over it and over it, Loralee. There's just nothing to do but try and wait him out. Maybe he'll make a mistake."
She stared out at the tall grass waving in the breeze, trying for courage. "You could make a run for it."
"I'm not leaving you alone."
"If leaving me alone saves our lives, it'd be more than worth it, don't you think? If you do get out, then you'd be able to bring back help. And I can hold the fort until you're gone." She shot him a determined smile.
"No. Even if I could get out—and I'm not saying I could—I'm not about to leave you and Pete undefended."
"Patrick, I've been taking care of myself as long as I can remember. I reckon I can handle it just a little bit longer."
He ran the back of his hand along her cheek. "You're as brave as they come, but you're no match for whoever's out there. Hell, neither am I. That son of bitch is holding all the cards."
"Don't mean nothing." They both turned to look at Pete, who had struggled to a sitting position.
His face was ashen and Loralee marveled at the strength of his constitution. A lesser man would be dead to the world right now. Or just plain dead. "Pete, you shouldn't be up. You need rest."
"If we don't do something real soon, I'll be doin' nothing but restin'.
Figure now's as good a time as any to formulate us a plan.
" From Pete, it was a speech. Loralee crawled over to his side and dipped a square of linen in the pan of water.
She reached to wipe it across his brow, but he pushed her hand away, his gaze never leaving Patrick. "So what you thinkin' of doin'?"
Patrick crossed the room, staying low, settling on the floor beside them. "I was thinking that if you covered me, I might make it to the barn. From there I could try to ride for Silverthread."
Pete closed his eyes, scrunching his face up in thought. "Might work."
"Yeah, and it might not."
"But it's worth a try." Loralee looked from one man to the other. "You said yourself, sooner or later, he's going to get us if we stay pinned like this. Seems to me a little chance is better than no chance at all."
"Girl's got a head on her." Pete nodded with approval and Loralee felt her chest swelling with pride. Nobody had ever called her smart before.
"I still don't like it. If I get shot, how are you all going to manage?"
"If you don't try, we're gonna be in the same kettle. It's just a matter of time." Pete leaned back, all the words exhausting him.
Loralee met Patrick's gaze, her own steady. She'd played poker before. Wasn't half bad at it actually. And she knew it was time to call the hand. "Pete's right, and you know it."
Patrick looked from one to the other and then out the window, his eyes narrowed. "All right. I'll do it, but not until it gets dark. It'll be safer then."
Loralee blew out a breath and raised the damp cloth again, successfully wiping the old man's brow. "You get some sleep now. You'll need your strength later."
Pete looked across the room at Patrick. "More likely we'll need a miracle."