Solitaire
Slade wasn’t one to pray often, not that he didn’t believe in God, but he more or less used Him in emergencies only. Well, this was an emergency, and as he pressed the radio’s On button once again, he prayed that Cat would hear him this time.
“Cat? Cat Kincaid, can you hear me? This is Slade Donovan. If you can hear me, depress the handset. Show me you’re alive. Over.”
The constant static of the portable radio now lodged between her rib cage and the wall of rocks slowly brought Cat back to consciousness. Blood trickled from her nose and down her lips. She tried to lick them, but her tongue met a thick caking of dust. Suddenly a sharp, riveting pain brought her fully conscious; it felt as if her right side were on fire. Dully, Cat tried to take stock of herself. She was buried up to her thighs in rubble. The weak light from her helmet lay to the left, barely visible through the curtain of dust that hung in the chamber.
The radio static continued, and dazedly Cat reached into her jacket. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to move. Dizziness washed over her and she knew that she was injured. How badly she didn’t know. Not yet. And maybe never. She had no idea how large or small was the chamber where she was buried. If it was too small, and there wasn’t sufficient oxygen, she would die of suffocation sooner, rather than later. If she was lucky, oxygen might be trickling through the walls blocking her escape, and she wouldn’t suffocate.
Her fingers closed over the radio. Twisting slightly, she pulled it out of her jacket. A gasp tore from her and a tidal wave of pain caused her to black out for several seconds. When she came to, she took light, shallow breaths of the murky air. To breathe deep meant suffering a knifelike pain ripping up her right side. Busted ribs, she thought, slowly pulling the radio out of the jacket.
The light from her hard hat was slowly dimming, but she focused on first things first: the radio. Would it work? Was Donovan still out there? Her hand trembled badly as she fumbled to turn the radio on. The red light blinked on, and a rough, scratchy noise greeted her. Finally, she fine-tuned it with the other dial.
Her fingers, now bruised and bloodied, slipped on the button she hoped would link her with the outside world. Cat depressed it and tried to speak, but the only sound that came from her throat was a low croak. If only she could have some water! She could hear it all around her, the same rushing sound as before. Had that wall collapsed behind her where the limestone had cracked and separated?
“D-Donovan…” Her voice was barely a hoarse whisper. Dust clogged her throat and she wanted to cough, but didn’t dare for fear of disturbing her broken ribs. Then the radio crackled and an incredible surge of relief flowed through her as she heard Donovan’s Texas baritone come scratchily over the handset.
“Cat! I can barely hear you. Give me a report on your condition.”
“I–I’m trapped between a double cave-in. My legs are under rubble, but if I can move off my belly, I can free myself. Chamber is–dust too thick to tell how small or large it is yet.”
“Injuries?”
“Right lung hurts…can’t breathe very well. Legs are numb but I think if I get the rocks off, they’ll be okay.”
Terror leaked through Slade’s voice. “Head injury?”
Cat had to wait a minute to assess herself. She slowly raised her hand, feeling her dust-laden hair, and met warm stickiness as she felt across her scalp. Her head was throbbing as if it might split into a hundred pieces, like the limestone around her. “Maybe a mild concussion. Dizzy–”
“Oxygen?”
“Let me radio back. Got to try and reach my hard hat.”
“All right, just take it easy. We’re going to get you out of there. Just hang on. Graham’s phoned for help. We expect miners and excavation equipment within the next hour. Get back to me on the size of the place you’re trapped in. Over.”
Just the reassuring sound of Slade’s voice kept her panic from exploding. There was something about him that instilled faith in his promise to get her out of there. Gently, Cat set down the radio. What she would do for some water now! Dizziness came and went and Cat felt nausea clawing up her throat–she had all the symptoms of a concussion. Stretching her left hand out, fingers extended, she reached for her hard hat. There! Her fingers closed over the hat and she pulled it back to her.
As the dust slowly settled around her, Cat got an idea of the chamber’s size. Rocks ranging from the size of her fist to huge sheets that easily weighed half a ton were lodged all around her. She had been lucky: if she had not tripped and fallen where she now lay, a sheet of limestone nearby would have sheared right through her. She’d be dead. The drenching reality washed through her and she closed her eyes, exhausted. I shouldn’t be tired. Got to get these rocks off my legs and move around. Maybe I can find some water… Then drowsiness overwhelmed her.
Slade paced back and forth in front of the mine like an infuriated lion. He gripped the radio tightly in his fist. The rain was continuing to fall at a steady rate; the sky had become a dismal gray. Angrily, he shook off the thought and the feeling. Cat was alive, and that was all that mattered. No one should die alone in that godforsaken place. He wanted to vent his anger on Graham, who sat in his silver Mercedes looking pasty from the turn of events. The frightened mine owner had gone to extraordinary measures to call in local workers who had once toiled in the worthless mine, and to order heavy equipment from a nearby town. The local fire department would arrive shortly with oxygen tanks, masks and rescue apparatus. As soon as they came, Slade was going to borrow a tank and mask and make his way down the shaft to locate Cat’s chamber. He halted. Cat should have called in by now.
Slade called her five times and there was no answer. Was Cat unconscious? Had she died because of oxygen deprivation? Torn between staying and going deeper, he stared down the black maw of the shaft. Maybe her radio was on the blink. He tried to ignore his memory of the slur of Cat’s words and the pain he’d heard with each breath she had taken. He had a gut feeling she was in a lot more serious condition than she was revealing.
He called again. This time, he got an answer. “Cat, how are you?”
“Uhh, dizzy. Sorry, didn’t mean to black out.”
Slade’s mouth thinned, his eyes reflecting his anxiety, but he kept it out of his voice as he depressed the On button. “You’re doing fine. Did you get a look at the chamber?”
“Twenty feet long and ten feet wide. The manging wall is holding. I’m under a stull that’s stopping it from falling on top of me.”
Relief flowed through him. “Great. Any indication of air supply?”
“Dust still too thick. I’m turning off my light to conserve it. Need water worse.”
“I know. Look, you just rest.”
“C-can’t. Got to try and get rocks off legs.”
Slade nodded. “The fire department is coming with oxygen gear. As soon as they arrive, I’m going to find you, Cat. For now, just conserve your energy.”
She knew Slade was right, but she was shivering from the overwhelming dampness around her. As dry as her mouth and throat were, the moisture was seeping through to her bones. She shut off the light and slowly began to remove one rock at a time from the back of her legs. Only her left hand was undamaged. Movement of her right arm sent such a spasm of pain up Cat’s side that she lost consciousness.
Cat was used to darkness; when she constructed a mine shaft, she was constantly in the darkened earth with only a safety lamp and lighted hard hat to illuminate her way. But rarely had she gone without any light at all, and now the dark was as suffocating as the dust that hung around her. A shiver rippled through her, the darkness like fingers of fear closing around her throat. Cat tasted her panic and concentrated on removing the rocks from her thigh, gradually releasing herself from the entrapment.
Minutes dragged by. And each minute seems like a lifetime, Cat realized. She clung to the hope that Slade would call again. Just to hear another human voice eased the terror that was intensified by the dark. Her breath came in painful, ragged gasps; each one feeling as if a knife was being plunged through her lungs. Sweat mingled with dust as it trickled down her face, stinging her eyes. Resting until the dizziness passed, Cat knew she would have to use her right hand to start removing the debris from her right leg. An involuntary cry tore from her contorted lips as she pushed the first rock off her thigh. Blackness closed in on her and she rested her brow against her left arm, sobbing.
* * *
“Over here!” Slade motioned the first of two arriving volunteer fire department pumpers toward the opening of the mine. Graham reluctantly got out of his car and met the chief, who was dressed in a white helmet and turnout gear. Finally, Slade thought, moving toward the fire chief. In moments he had established his identity and was given an air pack and mask. He took a safety lamp and settled the hard hat on his head, then entered the mine. His heart rate picked up. How far down the crosscut had the cave-in taken place? He mentally began to calculate the possible scenarios he might find. If there was a huge wall of debris, it might take days before they could reach Cat. He prayed it was the opposite–that the bulk of the cave-in had occurred behind her and only a thin wall stood between her and freedom.
Chapter Two
Slade found the wall of rock near the second timber support in the crosscut and carefully examined the timbers around him. They were sturdy and did not appear stressed. That meant mining equipment such as drills and augers could be moved into the mine to begin removing the debris without fear of another avalanche. The dust was still thick as Slade breathed in the sweet flow of oxygen through his face mask. Sweat trickled down his temples, following the line of his jaw. Some of his fear for Cat slipped away; most of the rock and dirt that had fallen was in small chunks, and easily handled by picks, shovels and wheelbarrows. Rescue would come more quickly.
Slade crouched by one wall of the crosscut, watching as a constant stream of water disappeared into the wall. He knew that if it was getting through, life-bearing oxygen could also be carried into the chamber where Cat was trapped. Pulling out the radio, Slade attempted contact with her. He waited patiently, repeating his call three times before she answered. Cat’s voice was tight and hoarse, and Slade knew she was in a hell of a lot of pain.
“How’s my girl doing?”
A choked sound came over the radio. “Hanging–in there.”
“Mining engineers always did have more guts than brains,” he told her wryly. “I’m outside the wall where you’re trapped, Cat. Give me a status report.”
“Oxygen level seems the same. There’s–running water to my left.”
“Outstanding. How about you?”
“Would it do any good to tell you?”
“Don’t play that game with me. I know I can’t get to you yet, but I want to know the extent of your injuries and if you’re feeling worse.”
“I’ll bet you use that line on every woman you meet, Donovan.”
He grinned, but it didn’t reach his narrowed eyes as he continued to appraise the wall of debris before him. “With you, I wouldn’t use a line. Come on, level with me. How are you doing?”
“I’ve got the rocks off my legs and I managed to turn over. The right side of the tunnel wall looks weak and the stull above my head keeps creaking and groaning.”
Slade scowled. That meant that even Cat’s chamber could cave in, burying her under tons of rubble. Urgency thrummed through him. “How’s that concussion you’re sporting?”
“Not–good. I keep passing out. Very sleepy when I shouldn’t be. I was sleeping until you called. The scratchy sounds from the radio woke me up.”
Damn it! She had suffered a worse head injury than he had first thought. “Okay,” Slade soothed, keeping his voice steady. “How’s your ribs?”
“If I don’t breathe, I feel great.”
She had spunk, he’d give her that. “And when you do?”
“Feels like someone’s shoved a knife up under my right rib cage.”
“Think you’ve got compound fractures?” If she did, the broken bone could conceivably puncture the lung if she moved around too much.
“I can feel blood there. I don’t know. It hurts too much to touch the area and find out.”
“Stay still if you can.” It was either busted ribs or a punctured lung. Or both.
“Right.”
“Do you have a water source?” If she had oxygen and water, Cat could last a long time. But if she had undetected internal injuries, time could prove to be their enemy. Cat needed immediate medical attention.
“Y-yes, a small stream along the left wall. All the amenities, Donovan.”
“Except you don’t have me. And I intend to remedy that situation shortly. Tell me, how many posts are in your chamber?” There was a post for every ten feet of spacing.
“One, Donovan. And it’s not looking very healthy.”
“You know enough to place yourself under it, with your back up against it, don’t you?”
“Y-yes. Once I feel up to crawling over there, I’ll do it.”
“Can’t you walk over to it?”
“Too dizzy. I’d fall and skin my knees.”
He almost smiled. “Wouldn’t want you to skin up those pretty knees.”
“You’re full of Texas baloney, Donovan.”
He laughed. “I told you before, Cat, with you, I’m honest.”
“Sure, an honest geologist. That’ll be the day.”
“Guess I’ll have to prove it to you, won’t I?”
“Right now I need a knight on a white charger. Come and get me, Donovan.”
“Would you settle for thirty firemen, fifty miners and some drilling equipment instead?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
He heard the sudden wobble in Cat’s voice, as if she were close to tears. Slade tightened his grip around the radio. “Look, it appears that about ten feet of earth and rock are separating us, Cat. Unless we run into some limestone sheets weighing a ton or more, we ought to be able to reach you within twenty-four hours.”
“Slade?”
Slade blinked the sweat from his eyes, hearing the fear in Cat’s voice for the first time. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“C-could you contact my parents? Tell them what’s happened? Especially my brother Rafe? They live in Colorado. The Triple K Ranch. If I give you the phone number, could you call them? Please?”
“Sure, anything you want.”
Relief cracked her voice. “T-thanks. Here’s the number.”
Slade committed it to memory. “I’m signing off, Cat. The miners will be here any minute. I’ve got Graham’s permission to organize and run this rescue operation. If you need anything, call. Otherwise I’ll contact you in about an hour.”
“Just let me know if you can reach my family.”
“I’ll personally make the call. Graham’s got a phone in his car.”
“Thanks, Slade. It means a lot to me….”
“I can tell.” As he left the dankness of the mine, his mind shifted to another matter. Slade knew very few geologists or mining engineers who had sunk roots and had a family or children. He also knew from reading articles on Cat Kincaid that she wasn’t married. As Slade got to his feet and began his trek to the adit, he wondered what man in his right mind would let someone as rare as Cat Kincaid out of his sight, much less out of his life. There was a special quality about her that he longed to explore. She was like an emerald mine waiting to be discovered: enticing, mysterious and filled with rich promise.
Gray light filtered through the adit, telling him he was near the opening. Well, he’d discovered one thing about Cat: family meant a great deal to her. Rafe was obviously 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 it was the avalanche of tightly withheld feelings or the strain of her entrapment, Cat was barely coherent. There was so much she wanted to say; instead tears flowed in a warm stream down her cheeks, and her voice was wobbly and fragmented.
“S-Slade…” she choked.
“He’s done a fine job, Cat,” Rafe came back. “He knows what he’s doing. Look, you just hang on. We’ve got an ambulance and paramedic crew standing by to take you to the closest hospital. Keep your chin up, Baby Sis. We all love you. Just remember all the times you and I dared danger and won. It’ll be the same this time. I promise you.”