Solitaire. Lindsay McKenna
a brother she could look up to, admire and lean on in times of trouble. Lucky guy, he told himself enviously.
As Slade walked out into the pall of rain, he glared at the gray sky overhead. They didn’t need more water; it would loosen more dirt and the rain would trickle through the weakened limestone, making the rescue effort even more precarious than before. Slade had good instincts, and his gut sense had often saved his life in the past. Now, that voice screamed out that another cave-in was near. His instincts also warned him that if this was Cat’s first cave-in, she would need emotional support to get back the courage to someday walk into the darkness of another mine.
* * *
Cat could barely move her head. She sat with her back against the rough, splintered surface of the post. Five hours had elapsed. Slade had called once an hour and sweet God in heaven, how she came to rely on him; he was her support system against the fear that threatened to consume her. Each passing hour made it become harder to control her rising panic.
Her spirits had plummeted when Slade had not been able to raise anyone at her parents’ ranch right away. Cat felt alone and vulnerable in a way she’d never before experienced. Rafe–she needed Rafe’s steadying presence. He was always the one to get them out of a jam when they were kids growing up in the Rocky Mountain wilderness. There had been times when she was scared to death, but because Rafe reassured her that it would be all right, she took dangerous chances with him. When Slade informed her he couldn’t reach anyone at the Triple K, her fears loomed up again.
Slade had told her he had the first shift with the miners clearing away the debris. Cat couldn’t hear the strike of pickaxs or the grind of huge auger drill bits boring holes to loosen the soft base so it could be shoveled away. The wall, Slade had said, was at least ten feet thick, perhaps twenty. It could, at worst, be days before she could be rescued.
At 10:00 a.m., Slade was able to make contact with the Kincaid Ranch. After a tense conversation, he made his way to the wall and called Cat. After four tries, she still didn’t answer and Slade grew worried. Another five calls. Nothing. Had Cat passed out? Was she sleeping because of the concussion? Slade tried to contain his apprehension.
* * *
Cat finally floated out of unconsciousness and weakly raised her left arm. The luminous dials on her Rolex told her she had been asleep for nearly six hours. She lay on the hard pebbled floor on her left side to ease the pressure on her right. Experimentally, Cat lightly ran her fingers over her ribs, feeling how swollen her flesh had become beneath her damp canvas jacket. Not good, she thought blearily. The radio clicked, telling her that Slade was trying to contact her.
The radio lay near her head and she depressed the button. “S-Slade?”
“Cat? My God, are you all right?”
A grimace pulled at her lips. “Fine. Went to sleep, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. Six hours. You scared the hell out of me.”
“S-sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Listen, I got hold of your family and everyone’s flying out here to see you. They’ll be landing soon and I’ve arranged to have someone meet them at the nearest airport. Your parents, brother, sister and her husband are coming.”
Tears leaked down her face and she couldn’t trust her voice.
“The whole family’s coming?”
He laughed. “Yeah. I’m impressed. Not many families would fly to the rescue.”
“We’re close.”
“How are you holding up?”
“I’ve had better days, Donovan. How are things out there?”
“We’ve got thirty men on line for you, sweetheart. We’re hauling about a ton of dirt and rock an hour. I’m shoring the shaft up with new post and stull every three feet as we go.”
Cat nodded, trying to lick her dry lips. “How many tons do you figure is between you and me?”
Slade’s voice was apologetic. “About fifty tons of material. If we can keep up the pace I’ve set, we’ll have you out of there in roughly fifty hours.”
Fifty more hours in the damp darkness. It seemed like an eternity. Could she control her fear? It was so black, she couldn’t even see her hand if she held it up in front of her nose. And she was thirsty. Her tongue felt swollen, her throat rough as sandpaper. She would have to crawl the width of the footwall to sip that trickle of life-giving water along the opposite wall.
“You’re doing a good job, Donovan. I’m going to owe you a lot by the time you get me out of here.”
“Don’t worry, I intend to collect for my services, lady.”
Cat smiled, allowing his voice to cover her like a blanket of balm. “Whatever you want, Donovan, within reason.”
Slade chuckled indulgently. “Don’t worry, the price won’t be so high you won’t want to pay it. Look, I’ll check in on you an hour from now.”
Panic nibbled at her crumbling control and Cat gripped the radio, dreading the return to silence. “For some reason, I trust you, Donovan. I shouldn’t, but I do.”
His voice came back, husky but velvet to soothe her shattered composure. “Hold that thought, Cat. I’ll be here for you, that’s a promise.”
* * *
Two things happened in the next hour. The entire Kincaid family arrived at the Emerald Lady, and Slade could not raise Cat again on his radio. Rafe Kincaid, the brother, was close to exploding, firing questions faster than Slade could answer them. The tall, strapping Colorado rancher took off his Stetson, rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a hard hat and went into the mine to help in the rescue effort. So did Jim Tremain, Dal’s husband. Slade liked Cat’s family; Sam and Inez Kincaid, Cat’s parents, and Dal Tremain, Cat’s younger sister, helped to set up a place where coffee could be dispensed in the nearby shack and sandwiches could be made for the hardworking rescue crews. Millie, the Kincaid’s housekeeper, who was apparently an integral part of the family, watched Dal’s months-old baby, Alessandra, while Dal worked.
Within an hour of their arrival, the Kincaid family had organized chow lines for the hungry miners. Meanwhile, Slade had returned to the mine to continue directing the rescue. Slade tried to reassure Rafe that his sister had probably lost consciousness again due to her concussion. Rafe glowered at him, as if it were his fault, but Slade shrugged it off. Let the rancher expend his anger on the pickax he was wielding, instead of blowing up at him.
* * *
Cat tasted blood. She lay on her left side, shivering. What time was it? How many hours had passed since she had last lost consciousness? The luminous dials of her watch blurred and she blinked. Her vision was being affected and that frightened her. The radio was pressed protectively to her breast and she shakily turned it on, the red light glowing brightly in the darkness. Almost immediately, Slade’s voice came through, soothing her fragmented nerves.
“Cat?”
She heard the anxiety in Slade’s voice and was grateful for his undiminished caring.
“I’m alive,” she announced, her voice weaker than it had been earlier.
“Thank God. What happened? You’ve been out ten hours.”
“I can’t hang on to consciousness, Slade. Keep blacking out.”
“Don’t worry about it. Let me go get your parents. Your family arrived some time ago. They’re helping in the relief efforts. Rafe and Jim Tremain have been using a pickax and shovel the last ten hours. That’s quite a family you’ve got. Hold on…”
Tears began to stream down her grimy cheeks when she heard her father’s gruff voice, and then her mother’s. Cat tried not to cry. She tried to sound brave and calm and steady, everything she wasn’t. But when Rafe was put on, her voice cracked, betraying her real emotions. Whether