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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BINDI TOOK A chance and slowly peeked over the rim of the hole. Her toes were balanced precariously on a small lip of rock, and she was hanging onto a protruding root that stuck out of the edge of the shaft with one hand. With a wary gaze, she searched the surrounding area. No one was waiting to nab her as she emerged, as she’d half feared. If this other man Mack had warned her about was still here somewhere, at least he wasn’t lurking around the shaft.
Pulling herself the last few feet, she flopped, belly first, onto the red dirt and lay there, panting. She’d made it to the top. But there was no time to congratulate herself. Mack was still down there, waiting for her to find help. Sweat ran profusely down her back and between her breasts, mainly due to her exertion from the arduous climb. But some of it was because she couldn’t quite rid herself of the image of herself hurtling back down the hole to land all broken and bent on the hard ground beneath. The thought that Mack was directly below her, and she might hurt or even kill him if she did fall, was one of the main incentives that’d kept her going up. Cowboy boots were not the best climbing equipment, she’d discovered quickly. But the climb itself had been surprisingly easy, once she’d made up her mind to do it. There’d been a few scary moments, when she’d overstretched for a handhold, or her foot had slipped unexpectedly, but she’d always made sure her other holds were secure and she’d proceeded slowly, but surely, up the rocky wall. It hadn’t helped that her body had been battered and bruised by the fall. But once she’d got moving, her muscles had warmed up, and all she needed to do now was to keep moving, so she didn’t seize up. Because as soon as she stopped, there was no doubt in her mind her body would shut down.
“I made it,” she called down the hole. It was pitch black down there, the sunlight not making it all the way to the bottom, so she couldn’t actually see Mack.
But his voice drifted up to her. “Told you, you could do it.” She could hear the pride in his tone. “Is it safe?” he asked urgently.
“There’s no one around,” she said, getting slowly to her knees, and lifting her hand to shield her eyes. Nothing moved. The sun beat down mercilessly, just past its zenith. Only half an hour had passed since they’d arrived at the mine site. Placing her hands on her knees, she levered herself to standing with a groan.
Now she was out, what was she going to do? There was no real plan, apart from climbing the wall and go and get help. Turning in a full circle, Bindi spotted the smoke. Shit, she’d nearly forgotten about the fire with everything else going on. The pall of smoke hadn’t got much bigger, and as she studied it, she saw some of it was turning white, rather than the ominous gray it’d been earlier. Which meant someone was fighting the fire. Smoke only turned white if water was being poured on it. That was good, the fire was less of a potential threat, at least for now.
Bindi continued to stare at the sky as the light and dark plumes mixed to cover the blue, tangling together and causing a sinister twist to spiral through her belly. The tangled skies were a reflection of her knotted emotions. She had to find a way to rescue Mack. He was down there, hurt and waiting for her, and part of her wanted to jump back down the shaft just so she could be with him, hold him, comfort him. He drew her body and soul, a gravitational pull as strong as if she were the moon and he the earth. That pesky word hovered just outside her consciousness again. Love. Did she love him? She let out a groan of fear. If she couldn’t get him out of the shaft, it might not matter if she was in love with him, or not.
Continuing her slow rotation, her gaze landed on the old battery building. An idea grew in her head. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she yelled down the shaft. “I promise, I won’t be long.”
Mack yelled something back, but she didn’t catch it as she was already striding purposefully across the clearing. Madonna and her filly could still be in there. She might be able to use them to help get Mack out.
Firstly, she crept around the rear of the battery building until she could make out the gravel parking lot. It was empty. Which was good, but that could mean a lot of things. Mack had said there were two men. One was dead, and the other was unaccounted for. At least one of them had been on horseback when they stole Madonna and her foal. Mack had said Whip had told the other guy to wait for him in the car. Had the other guy now driven away in the car, taking the horse and trailer with him?
Entering the building with a lot more care than she’d taken the first time, she snuck around a wooden post at the edge of the open siding, keeping to the shadows. Mack had told her the fat man hadn’t really been planning on burning the building down, he’d just flooded it with smoke to scare the horses. Standing just inside the doorway, she hugged the wall and used all her senses to search the interior. It was dim in here, after the bright sunshine, and she gave her eyes time to adjust. Dust motes hung in the air, suspended in the odd ray of sunlight that filtered in through a break in the roof. The large, ten-head gold stamper used to crush the quartz ore as part of the gold mining process, took up most of the far side of the building. Two enormous metal wheels stood on either side of two boilers, which once would’ve provided the steam to drive the whole battery. It was the section behind and to the right of this industrial machinery that Bindi was interested in.
Bindi heard a noise. A soft snuffle. Then a louder snort and a tapping sound, like tiny hooves on a wooden floor. The sounds were coming from the other end of the big, open-plan building, from behind a walled off section. The same place Bindi had been heading when she’d been hit over the head earlier. A small frisson of excitement ran through her. Madonna and Melody were still in there.
Still taking care, Bindi weaved her way around the walls, not daring to go out into the open. The old concrete floor was buckled and broken in places, so Bindi picked her way carefully around, until she was in a position where she could peer through the slats of wood in the wall separating her from the dingy space beyond.
Putting her eye to the gap, she peeked into the room. It was empty. But when she swiveled her head to the left a little, she caught sight of movement. Madonna’s hindquarters swung into view. But the angle of her little peep hole didn’t allow her to see any farther into the dark corner. What if the man was lying in wait for her, just behind the door?
Madonna gave a snort, and whickered loudly, as if she’d suddenly scented Bindi close by. Oh, well. Her cover was blown now, anyway. There was nothing for it. At the last second, she picked up a long piece of wood lying on the floor a few feet away and wielded it like a baseball bat as she reached for the door handle.
Easing the door open, Bindi winced when it squealed in protest on its rusty hinges. She jumped into the doorway, stick raised, ready to strike. But there was no one there. Except the two horses. Madonna stamped anxiously, and Melody hovered behind her mother, clearly fearful.
“Hey,” Bindi crooned. “It’s okay. I’m here now.” She placed the wood on the floor and reached out a hand to Madonna, who snuffed her fingers in welcome. “Hiya, baby,” Bindi said softly, running her hands down the mare’s shoulder, checking for any injuries. Apart from the horse’s obvious displeasure at being kept in this dark, dusty place, and being manhandled by two strange thugs, she was otherwise unharmed.
Madonna was wearing a halter and was tied to a post in the corner by a long, lead rope. Melody also wore a halter and lead rope, but she didn’t really need one, as she would follow her mother anywhere.
So, the horses were safe and in one piece. The first part of her plan to rescue Mack had fallen into place. Now, she needed a piece of rope or something similar to help her haul him out. But there was nothing. The room was completely bare. Her plan wouldn’t work if she had nothing long enough to reach to the bottom of the hole.
Leaving the horses where they were, she went back into the main building, searching for anything that might serve her purpose. A few minutes later, she returned with arms laden with items, none of which was exactly what she wanted, but they might do. There was an electrical extension cord—someone must have left that, perhaps a workman patching up the building recently—a couple of pieces of thick leather cord that were old and covered in dust, but still strong, some copper wire, and a handful of twine.
“Come on, baby,” Bindi clucked to Madonna. “You’re going to work for your hay bag today.” She led the mare carefully out through the door, making sure the filly was following close behind.
It only took a few minutes to get back to the open hole. Mack must be wondering where she’d got to.
“I’m here,” she sung out, leaning over the edge but making sure Madonna didn’t get too close.
“Oh, thank God,” Mack’s voice echoed up to her, and in these few words, she understood just how worried he’d been.
“I’ve got Madonna and Melody,” she told him. “I’m going to try and pull you out.”
“What?” Mack sounded stunned. “But Whip said…” He stopped, as if considering his words. “Never mind. That’s good. Really good the horses are still alive.”
Still alive? Had Whip’s plan been to kill the horses? What a horrible thought. It just made the man even more reprehensible.
“Give me a few minutes,” she hollered back, and threw her stash on the ground, sorting through it while Madonna looked on with interest. “No, there’s nothing to eat here,” Bindi scalded gently. But a plan was beginning to form in her mind. Lifting her head to glare at the smoky sky, she decided the fire was no more of a threat at the moment.
Ten minutes later, she had a rude harness fitted around Madonna’s chest, using a piece of leather as a breast strap running across the horse’s chest, with two bits of twine looped around her neck, and another piece of leather under her tummy as a sort of belly band, to hold it in place. The electrical cord was tied to the left-hand side of the breast strap. Bindi prayed it was long enough to reach to the bottom of the hole, but she only had the one piece, so Madonna would have to pull to the right to compensate. She’d tied a loop on the end, so Mack could put his foot through it, and—if everything went right—she’d pull him to safety. Madonna wasn’t happy with the contraption around her chest, and sniffed at it suspiciously, but she was a good stock horse, one of the best, and Bindi didn’t doubt she’d do as she was asked. Steve had trained her up from a foal, there was no doubt that if any horse could do this, then she could. Bindi had no choice but to tie Melody up to the nearest shrub. She couldn’t have her trotting around and accidentally falling down the shaft. The filly gave a nervous whinny, but Madonna ignored her for the moment, as if realizing her baby was safe, and there was work to be done.
