All He Ever Wanted Page 4

  Her fingers curled against the thickness of his coat. “You can’t give up.”

  His voice dropped even lower. “It’s been more than ten hours.”

  She was well aware of that. Painfully so.

  Maybe the man hadn’t watched his son properly, but he was suffering now.

  Then her radio crackled with life and she started just as badly as he did. But it was just Cheryl, dispatching a fire unit out to a woman in labor.

  The noise was enough to rally her focus away from the father back to the boy, where it belonged. “I don’t suppose it’ll do me any good to tell you to go inside with Miss Emelda.” She looked pointedly at his truck. “You could call for a tow truck to pull that loose, and then go home.”

  He shook his head.

  “Then come with me.” She tugged her knitted cap down around her ears and mounted the snowmobile again. When he climbed on behind her, taking up more than his share of the seat, she closed her mind off to everything but Erik. She headed out toward the stark windmill that seemed little more than a skeletal shadow against the sky, as it turned ever so slowly in the still morning.

  She pulled up next to it, and cut her engine. The silence was overwhelming.

  “What are you doing?”

  She tilted her head, closing her eyes, concentrating on the silence. Had she heard something? “Listening.”

  The only thing answering her was a soft creak from the windmill. She turned off the searchlight and pulled out the penlight. When she started to tuck it between her teeth, he took it from her and directed it at the map she spread out.

  “What are we looking for?” His voice was so near her ear, she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

  “These are known erosion holes into the Queen of Hearts.” She tapped the marks she’d made courtesy of her conversation with Cheryl. “Those that are marked have been boarded over.”

  “And the ones that aren’t marked?”

  She didn’t answer and he swore beneath his breath. She could only silently concur. There wasn’t a soul living in these parts of Montana who wouldn’t be familiar with the “Stay Out, Stay Alive” motto when it came to abandoned mines. It was taught in school, splashed across early Sunday morning public service announcements on television and painted on bus-stop benches.

  All of which might mean absolutely nothing to an adventurous, curious young boy.

  She folded the map and he handed her the penlight, which she pocketed. Then she started the snowmobile again and drove slowly along Miss Emelda’s property line, her powerful searchlight steady thanks to Cameron’s guidance. The entrance proper to the Queen of Hearts was a good two miles away. But the tunnels were surprisingly extensive, according to Cheryl, who had a grandfather several generations back who’d worked the Douglas-owned mine.

  She nearly drove right over the first hole since the planks covering it were almost obscured by snow. Cameron swung off the cat and dropped to his knees, tunneling his hands through the snow to yank at the planks. They budged even less than Miss Emelda’s garage doors had.

  The wind skidded over them, lifting the dark hair on his unprotected head as he strode back to the snowmobile and climbed on behind her.

  Did Erik’s parka have a hood?

  The snowmobile jumped forward, her anxiety unfortunately finding its way to the throttle, and Cameron’s hands abruptly closed over her hips as he steadied himself. Ignoring him was impossible, but at least the sudden heat streaking through her helped hold the cold at bay. “What does Erik know about the mine?” She raised her voice so he could hear.

  The entire length of her back felt the press of him as he leaned over her shoulder. “Nothing beyond what Emelda Ross talks about at the library.”

  If Miss Emelda were spinning her tales as enticingly now as she had when Faith was a child, she could only imagine the effect on an impressionable, adventurous boy. “Does he ever talk about it?”

  “No.”

  Well. Okay. No wiggle room there.

  She found the second site. Long, narrow and securely boarded over, though the board looked as if it had taken its share of potshots from a pellet gun or two.

  The third site was also a bust.

  Discouraged, Faith pulled out her map again. The sun was finally peeking over the horizon, but as it often did at dawn, the temperature seemed to drop several degrees in the process. There was also a low-lying layer of gray cloud that practically screamed snow. And she was glad for the solid warmth of the man behind her. “We had to have missed one.” She studied the map. Turned and studied the physical landmarks around them.

  “There.” Cam reached around her and pointed at the map. “That would be, what? About fifty yards north.”

  He was right. She traced her gaze in that direction. There was an ebb and flow of snowdrifts along the fence line, in some places completely obscuring the wood rails. It was anybody’s guess whose property it was. She figured they’d long passed Emelda Ross’s land, which meant it was probably Douglas property, as was most of the open land.

  The back of her neck prickled and she quickly folded the map. “Call for him.” Her voice was practically hoarse from all the calling she had done.

  The man needed no second urging. His deep voice boomed out as she maneuvered the cat around once more. Up, over the hills, fairly flying across the little valleys. And then she spotted the haphazard point of upended planks poking out of the snow.

  Snow spewed from beneath the runners when she pulled to a stop nearby. Cam was off the cat before she could even form a warning to be cautious. He went flat on his stomach, his head disappearing below a jagged, splintered board that stuck up from the snow like some ancient spear. “Erik!”

  Faith’s knees went weak when they both heard the faint response.

  At last. Thank you, God.

  They’d found him.

  Chapter Three

  “Erik!” Cam stared into the dark pit. His eyes burned. “Are you hurt?” He could hear his son’s muffled sobs. His fingers tightened on the board, oblivious to the dagger-sharp splinters that tore through his gloves. “We’re gonna get you out in a sec,” he promised roughly.

  He looked back to see Faith speaking into her radio even as she dragged equipment out of the cargo beneath the seat of the snowmobile. Rope. Harness. Shovel.

  She ran over to him, surprisingly adept even though her legs sunk into the snow nearly to her knees with each step, and dumped the items beside him. “I need to see down there.” She waited until he’d moved back and she leaned carefully over the narrow opening, peering down. “Erik, I’m going to throw down some light sticks, okay?”

  His answer was too long in coming. But eventually, his young voice floated upward. “’Kay.”

  She quickly shook a few sticks—pulled from one of her many pockets—to activate them and tossed them down. “Fire’s sending a truck,” she said without looking back at Cam. “My boss, Jim, is going to try to get here, but it’s gonna take at least an hour before he can get a chopper free. We need to get some of this snow cleared.” She grabbed the shovel and began attacking the white weight.

  Cam helped, scooping away snow with his hands, then his arm, until they could see the full scope of the boarded-over hole.

  Nausea curled its nasty fingers into him.

  Faith sat back, the short shovel resting on her thighs. “He was probably looking down where those boards are pulled away, and this one gave way beneath him.” They both eyed the freshly split plank.

  There’d only been four planks to start with. About eight feet long, covering the opening that was—at best—half that long and even less than that wide. Only one board remained intact, but when she tested its solidity, dirt and snow rained down into the crevice.

  “Daddy!” Erik’s voice howled up.

  “It’s okay, Erik,” he yelled down. Then he eyed Faith. “I’m not waiting.”

  “Yes, you are.” She caught him in a surprisingly strong grip when he reached for the rope. �
��Your son didn’t climb down there. He fell. We’re going to need help to get him out.”

  He shrugged her off. “I am not waiting.” He stood up, grabbing the rope, eyeing the best place to tie it off. The old snow fence with boards as ruinous as what was supposed to have protected the erosion hole, or the snowmobile that was massive only if he compared it to Faith Taylor’s size rather than his own? “He’s down there, crying, and there’s no way a fire crew can get across that snow.”

  The sunlight was even stronger now—he saw the flicker in her hazel eyes and knew she’d thought the same thing. They’d been able to traverse the deep snow only because of the snowmobile. If a fire crew were to make it to them, they’d either need to be following a snowplow, have a fleet of snowmobiles—which they didn’t exactly have considering half of it had already been used by Faith—or be on foot with cross-country skies or snowshoes.

  “There’s no way you can even fit,” she countered, her voice flat as she eyed his shoulders.

  “Daddy!” Erik’s wail was faint. “Iwannagetoutta heeeere!”

  Ignoring Faith, Cam headed toward the snowmobile. As an anchor, it was the best they had. He cinched the rope around it, and started carrying the rest of the coiled rope back toward the hole, only to be side-swiped by a hundred and twenty pounds of irate female.

  The snow cushioned their fall but the impact still knocked him for six. He stared up at the sky, at the blonde nearly sitting on his chest. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Maybe football tackles are the only thing you understand.” Her voice was tight and her eyes flashed. “I am not letting you endanger yourself, too.”

  He lifted her bodily from him and dumped her on her backside. “And you obviously don’t know what it’s like to have a child in danger.”

  The high color in her cheeks drained right back out. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care about the child who is,” she said stiffly. “For your son’s sake, let me do my job!”

  “What? You’re going to go down there?”

  She pushed to her feet and stomped through the deep snow back to the snowmobile, where she began untying his knot.

  “Faith, dammit—”

  She shot him a killing glare and he realized she was tying a fresh one. “At least learn how to tie a knot that won’t slip.” Her voice was cutting. “I may be the only female SAR in this county, Mr. Stevenson, but I’ve earned my place on this team.” She shouldered the rest of the coiled rope and kicked her way through the snow past him toward the hole. “Do you know how many times we end up having to get two people out of difficulties because someone was foolhardy enough to enter a situation they weren’t prepared or qualified for because they were so intent on solving the problem themselves?” As she spoke, she was working the rope through the harness and a series of pulleys. “Too many. Frankly—” she shot him a dark look “—I have better things to do with my time than rescue a father whose concern for his son comes a little late.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Faith shook her head and carefully stepped over the one remaining undamaged board, ignoring Cameron’s furious voice. Looking down, she could see the faint, green glow of the light sticks. She was going down because she couldn’t stand to listen to Erik’s woeful cries a moment longer, and for no other reason. “I’m coming down there, Erik,” she called loudly.

  And when Jim showed up and found out she’d acted without backup, she’d probably lose her hard-won spot on the SAR team.

  She stepped off the board, and the rope whizzed as she descended into the narrow crevice. The farther she went, the more obvious it became that Cameron—even if he’d tried—would never have managed to fit. Not when it was so close around her.

  “Erik?” She braced her legs against the dirt walls on either side of her, and slowly began maneuvering out of her coat. “My name is Faith Taylor. How ya’ doing down there?”

  “I’m cold.”

  She was sweating. And his voice was definitely weak. “I’ll bet you are.” She finally worked out of the sleeves and simply let the thing fall. She needed the extra few inches of space she’d gain without it. “My coat is coming down. If you can grab it, go ahead. Did you hurt anything when you fell?”

  “I dunno.” His crying abated a little. “Oh. There goes your coat. I, um, I missed it.”

  “That’s okay. It’s just a coat.” She lowered a few more inches, carefully working her shoulders past an embedded rock that had already painfully caught her hip. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

  “I think so. It hurts a lot. Where’s my dad?”

  “He’s waiting for you up top,” she assured gently as she worked a little faster. His words were slurring. Concussion? Exposure? Both?

  Regardless, she wanted to keep him talking and alert. “Erik, are you on a ledge or something?”

  “’S wood. I got splinters in my bu—rear.”

  And she was mighty grateful he was in fair enough shape to sound indignant about it. “What were you doing all the way out here?”

  “Dad’s gonna ground me for a year.”

  “Maybe.” Her voice was cheerful, masking her tension. “My parents grounded me once for six months.” She finally cleared the rock, only to duck her head when a cascade of dirt rained down on her. When it stopped, she looked up. She could see Cameron leaning over the hole. “Don’t suppose Fire is here yet?” she called up to him.

  “No.”

  And Jim obviously wasn’t, either, or he’d be haranguing her.

  “What’d they ground ya’ for?”

  Faith slid down another foot. She figured she was about thirty feet down. “I went climbing in the canyon without permission. And I ended up breaking my arm. And since nobody knew where I was…well, once they found me and had finished hugging me, they grounded me.”

  Erik had no reply to that. He might only be seven, but she hoped he was grasping her point and not falling unconscious. “Erik? You still with me?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The hole widened again and she tugged a flashlight out of the cargo pocket on her calf. She flipped it on, shining it around, then down. She could see Erik’s feet another fifteen feet or so below her and she lowered herself the rest of the way.

  Her flashlight danced over him, catching his dirt-smudged face. She caught her toes over the wood beam and steadied herself. “Hey there. Think you can hold my light?”

  “Yeah.”

  She reached out, handing the light to him. “Shine it downward, though. Okay?”

  The beam redirected away from her eyes.

  “Kinda scary down here, huh?”

  “I think there might be bats or something.”

  Faith doubted it, but she wanted to keep the boy talking. The rough beam was incredibly unstable and she didn’t dare use it to take her weight. Only problem was, she couldn’t ascend with him, because there wasn’t enough space, and she couldn’t rig her second harness around him unless she had a steady foothold. Which meant she’d have to take him down lower with her, before she could get him up.

  “You’re a girl.”

  She grinned. “’Fraid so. Only seven-year-olds and girls could fit down that hole up there. Think you can scoot closer to me, Erik?”

  He started to, but the wood moaned and debris tumbled loose. She held up her hand. “Okay. So that’s not gonna work.”

  “I want my dad,” he whispered.

  Her heart squeezed. “I know you do, sweetie. Here’s the deal. I’m going to swing over closer to you in a minute, and you’re gonna grab onto me good and tight, then we’ll lower down into the mine shaft below us, okay?”

  “I don’t wanna go down more!” Panic riddled his words.

  “Believe me, you’ve come down the worst of it, already,” she assured calmly. “I just need to know if you can grab onto me. Really fast. I’ll catch you, too, at the same time.”

  “What if I fall?”

  “I won’t let you.”

  �
��But—”

  “Erik? The quicker we do this, the quicker I can get you up top again. Or we can wait until one of my friends gets here.” Not that Jim would fit down the hole any easier than Cameron would have.

  “How long’s that gonna take?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie. Might be an hour or so.”

  “I gotta pee,” he whispered. “And my head hurts really, really bad.”

  Her throat tightened. “I can’t do anything about your head just yet, but you could go down here. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Dad said I’m not s’posed to do that ’cause it’s bad manners, just like I’m not s’posed to call grown-ups by their first name.”

  She bit back a smile at the odd pairing of rules. “Ordinarily I’d agree,” she murmured. “But I think this would be considered extenuating circumstances. I’ll turn my back. Give you some privacy. And you can call me Faith. It’s okay, when you’ve gotten permission from an adult.”

  He looked torn. “I’ll jus’ catch you.”

  “All rightee then.” She reached forward and took the flashlight back and returned it to her calf pocket. “I don’t want you to move your legs or anything. Just reach out with your arms.” She was too afraid of the beam toppling if he did more than that. “When I count to three, you be ready, okay?”

  “’Kay.” His voice was breathless. She hoped it was only from formulating the stories he’d be able to share after this was all over.

  “One.” She adjusted her grip on the rope, prepared to pull up or let down depending on what the beam did. “Two.” She pressed the toe of her boot against the wall of dirt for leverage. “Three.”

  She swung toward him and a set of young arms grabbed onto her like a lifeline and she scooped him up, taking on his fifty pounds as the rope whizzed and they descended into the mineshaft.

  Her feet hit solid ground with a jolt and she carefully knelt, settling him on the earth. “I don’t want you to move, okay? Just in case you have hurt something you don’t know about.” She waited until he focused on her, then stood and unhooked the second harness from her belt.

  She walked a few feet until she could see daylight at the top of the hole. “I’ve got him,” she called up. “He’ll be coming up in a few minutes.”