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“Let me take a look.” She shuffled on her bottom down the length of his leg.
“I’m assuming the other guy took your radio and phone?” Mack asked as she felt around until she found the fabric of his jeans.
“Oh, shit.” Why hadn’t she thought of that? But both communication devices were missing, when she patted her shoulder holster and front pocket of her jeans. “Yeah, he did,” she replied in disgust. This duo had certainly been thorough, making sure all the bases were covered. But this guy hadn’t counted on falling down the shaft with his intended victim. Which reminded her of the man Mack had called Whip.
“How did we survive that fall, and he didn’t?” She didn’t dare glance in the direction of the unmoving lump.
“Don’t know the answer to that one, either,” Mack admitted. “You were unconscious when the fat man threw you in, so maybe that played a part in keeping you alive.”
“Maybe,” she muttered, not sure. She’d heard of other people miraculously surviving falls like this one. Ten meters was a long way down, but perhaps not quite far enough to kill her.
“And I landed on top of Whip, who landed on your legs. I think he must’ve broken my fall. A soft landing, so to speak. But he must’ve broken his neck, either when he landed, or on the way down.”
Bindi drew in a soft breath of regret. This man was a nasty piece of work; had tried to do them both harm, but it was still hard to comprehend he was now dead because of his actions.
She tried to forget about the guy lying mere feet away from her, and concentrated on Mack’s ankle, instead. Without good light, she gingerly felt down his jeans to the top of his cowboy boot, pushing her fingers inside the leather, gently palpating the area until she got to his ankle and he sucked in a sharp breath.
“Sorry,” she apologized. As carefully as she could, she felt around his lower leg. She should probably remove his boot, but that would cause him too much pain, so it stayed, for now. His leg seemed to be lying at the correct angle, his foot pointed up toward the light. If it was broken, it wasn’t a bad break, the bones hadn’t pierced the skin or anything equally sickening. “I think your boot might’ve stopped the injury being too bad,” she said calmly.
“Maybe it did. But even so, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.”
Not good. It meant Mack wasn’t getting out of here without her help.
Bindi, whose eyes had now fully adjusted to the dark, tipped her head to the side and could just make out an opening on the opposite side to where they were sitting. A passageway running directly to the main mine. She could even detect a faint breeze coming from that direction. It might be possible to walk out that way. Although where this tunnel led was anyone’s guess, and even if it led to the surface, the odds were that the opening would be boarded up at the other end. And what if she got lost? A small shudder ran through her. Without a flashlight or light of any sort, those tunnels would be pitch black. If she got lost, she might never be found. Nope, they needed another plan.
Tipping her head back, she studied the opening above them. “This hole must be an old shaft the miners used to access the main mine, which runs horizontally out from the escarpment,” she said, thoughtfully. “They might have once hauled out the ore on a windlass system through here. Or used it as an inspection point.” She squinted upward, trying, but failing, to make out anything helpful up there. Any remnants of a windlass were now long gone. No roped dangled helpfully down the rocky walls. The shaft had been covered and made secure by the local rangers. But now this thug, Whip, had removed the grating, they were free to get out through the top. Which meant she’d have to climb out. Could she even do that?
“I believe his plan was to throw us both down here and then reposition the grate on top. Even if the fall didn’t kill us, we’d never be able to escape,” Mack said, as he noticed her staring upward. “But now the grate has been removed…” He didn’t finish his sentence. They both knew what he was hinting at.
Could she really climb up there? The edges of the shaft were rough, small ledges and grooves carved into the side where the old miners had blasted their way through the rock. It was a possibility. Not one she was completely happy about. What if she fell? Maybe she wouldn’t be so lucky this time.
“There’s something else you need to know,” Mack said quietly.
“What?” she asked, dreading this newest problem. What else could possibly go wrong?
He held up his right hand and she could see in the dim light that it was all misshapen, as if he had something wrapped around it. “Whip shot me. My hand is practically useless,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh, God,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry. What…? Why did he do that?” She imagined a scuffle. Had Mack tried to escape and Whip had shot him?
“He said it was a message from Clarissa. To remind me never to take up bull riding again. Even though he never meant for us to survive this encounter.”
“He did what?” she could hardly believe what he was saying. How could someone be that…callous? That cold-hearted. This Clarissa woman was a piece of work. Her blood began to boil at the thought of it. The injustice. The entitlement. Who did this woman think she was? If Bindi ever had the chance to meet her, Clarissa better watch out. Bindi normally abhorred violence, but right at this second, she felt quite capable of harming this woman.
“I’m so sorry.” She shuffled back up along his leg and took his good hand in hers. Clarissa had effectively taken away his dream. Bull riders relied on the strength in their hands to hold on to the bull rope with all their might, to keep them steady and secure on the bull’s back. Mack wouldn’t be able to do that now.
“Yeah, me too. But it’s the least of my worries right now. What it does mean, is that, added to my ankle, I won’t be able to climb out of here.”
His dark eyes found hers and held them. His gorgeous hair, normally slicked back in a classic style, hung in limp curls over his forehead and she reached up to push them out of the way.
He continued to stare at her, compassion in his gaze, and the reality of their predicament hit home to her with the force of a steam train. It was up to her to get them out of this place. Mack clearly saw the moment the reality of their situation struck her, because he grasped her fingers with his good hand and squeezed them.
“We don’t know what’s happened to the accomplice.” Mack kept his tone neutral, as if talking about moving a herd of cattle to another paddock, rather than about a man who might be out to kill them. “The Fat Man may have taken off when Whip didn’t show. The guy seemed a bit slow and weak-willed. But he could also still be up there. I need you to be careful.” He squeezed her fingers again, but his face kept that bland expression. He was trying to make this sound like one more everyday task she needed to complete. But it wasn’t.
Bindi tilted her head toward the sky and shook it uncertainly. She couldn’t do it. Climbing had never been one of her strong suits. The rock walls were rough, not smooth, and probably offered a lot of good handholds, if she were to try. And she wasn’t afraid of heights, so much. But she was afraid of falling. Her breath began to come in sharp little panicky pants as she stared up at the high walls.
“Nope.” She shook her head more forcefully. A surprising tear leaked from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t do this. The familiar paralysis took over her mind, blocking out the bad thoughts. Lethargic and useless, that was how she felt. The same as when Kai had molested her. This wasn’t happening. If she kept telling herself that, over and over, it’d all eventually go away.
Mack’s fingers entwined in hers, warm and strong. Not condemning her, just waiting, broadcasting his faith in her ability.
