“Do you think you could find a map of Coeur d’Alene?”

  “Sure. Gerry has one. I’ll go fetch it.”

  “What do you need a map for?” Cecil wanted to know.

  “Our new friend here is going to point out where the sheriff’s compound is, where the best place to mount a rescue should come from, where they’re holding Sarah, and so on. Isn’t that right, Deke?”

  Deke glowered at Steve but didn’t say anything.

  Steve blasted out a jet of fire and twirled it around Deke a few times before pulling the flames back to his hand. Deke had actually screamed, sounding very much like a small child. For that matter Luther and Cecil had both let out cries of shock.

  Luther back-handed Steve’s arm. “Don’t do that!”

  “Fine! Fine! I’ll tell you what you want to know!” Deke cried out.

  Rosamund produced her map and they spread it out on the table before them. Hank gave a gentle push on Deke’s chair and slid him the ten feet or so over so that he could see the map, too. Steve pointed at a spot on the map.

  “Here’s Jackknife Peak. This here is the summit. Where does the sheriff live?”

  When Deke wasn’t forthcoming with the answer Hank slid a chair over and sat down next to him.

  “It’s there, on the western mesa,” Deke hastily offered.

  Steve, Luther, Cecil, and Rosamund leaned forward to look at the map. Rosamund tapped an area on the mountain.

  “Here?”

  Deke nodded. “Yes. His lodge faces the western sun. He told me once it was so he could keep an eye on his town.”

  “Is that where he’s holding Sarah?” Steve asked.

  “No. He’s got her in the mine.”

  “What? He’s got her down a mine?”

  Deke shook his head. “The sheriff’s mine is enormous. Most of the first level has been adapted for his own personal use. The second level extends much deeper. That’s where the silver starts. He has your wife in one of the tunnels.”

  “Has he been drugging her?”

  Deke sighed. “He has, yes.”

  “Did he tell you why?” Luther asked.

  Deke shrugged as best he was able to. “The only thing he kept saying was that if she came to her senses then there would be hell to pay.”

  Steve looked at Luther, amazed. “That confirms it. Quinn was right. The sheriff knows about her. How is that even possible? Sarah wouldn’t tell anyone about her jhorun.”

  Luther sadly shook his head. “I don’t have an answer for you.”

  “What’s he drugging her with?” Steve snapped.

  “Opiate.”

  Steve groaned. “Oh, that’s just great.”

  Rosamund laid a hand on Steve’s arm.

  “She’ll be alright. The effects of opium will wear off eventually.”

  “Any residual damage or side effects?” Luther asked, unfamiliar with the drug.

  “Aside from it being an addictive substance and illegal?” Steve asked, looking incredulously at his ancestor.

  Cecil hesitantly raised a hand. “What are you talking about? Opium isn’t illegal.”

  “It most certainly is,” Steve argued.

  “Perhaps it is in your time,” Luther quietly told him, “but not here.”

  “Oh. Okay, I’ll let that one go. Be that as it may, I can’t imagine Sarah would willingly take that stuff.”

  “He’s spiking her food?” Rosamund suggested.

  “She wouldn’t eat,” Deke told them. “She knew she was being drugged. She wouldn’t touch the food, even if it was clean. The only way we could control her was by spiking the water in very low doses. I thought it wasn’t strong enough, as she continued to resist its effects. I can’t even begin to tell you what a pain she’s been. I tried to tell the sheriff she was bad news but he wouldn’t listen. He kept on saying that he was going to use her so he could retire.”

  “And then what?” Cecil asked in a quiet voice. “Was he going to let her go?”

  “Now what do you think, idiot?” Deke snapped. “She sent so many men to Doc Emerson that we had to start paying him off.”

  “Miss Sarah was hurting people?” Rosamund asked, certain she had misheard or else Deke had misremembered.

  “She was moving things around without touchin’ ‘em,” Deke recalled. “I don’t know how she was doin’ it.”

  “Why aren’t there any of the sheriff’s men in town?” Rosamund asked. “Where is everyone? Do you know what he’s doing?”

  “Sheriff Bixby has decided to ditch this flea-bitten town,” Deke smugly told her. “He’s gonna be gone by sunrise.”

  Steve lurched to his feet. He slid the map over to Deke and pointed down at the mountain.

  “Where’s the mine?”

  Chapter 7 – Siege on Jackknife Peak

  It was nearly an hour before sunrise. The sky was dark and riddled with thousands of stars. The moon had long since gone to bed for the night, affording the perfect conditions to sneak undetected up the side of a quiet mountain.

  There were no warbling birds, or rustling crickets. The slightest noise, like someone stepping on a twig, sounded like a veritable thunderclap in the absence of all other noise. The person that stepped on the twig smiled sheepishly at his two companions.

  “Dude, that sounded like a gunshot,” Steve whispered, crossly. “Seriously, Hank, try to watch where you’re stepping.”

  The big man to his left grunted once as his way of offering an apology.

  “I still say we should have left much earlier,” a different voice grumbled.

  This time the voice came from his right. Steve glanced over his shoulder at Bart, Rosamund’s other bouncer. The behemoth of a man was easily seven feet tall and tipped the scales at well over 350 pounds, yet there he was, tip-toeing through the grass as though he was afraid to step on a flower. Steve chuckled to himself. At least he was trying.

  “I told you before,” Steve whispered to him as he cautiously made his way through the brush alongside the narrow gravel path leading up the mountain, “we needed more time to plan. None of us have any experiencing in planning this sort of thing. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  Following Hank’s lead, Bart grunted once. Hank held up a hand. Steve and Bart froze in their tracks.

  “What is it?” Steve whispered. “What do you see?”

  “A lookout.”

  “Where?”

  “He’s at least 300 paces up the road, sitting up against a tree.”

  Steve peered at the dark countryside. Yes, he could make out the shapes of trees, and, generally speaking, which direction the road traveled, but his eyesight was nowhere near good enough to spot someone sitting against a tree trunk. A spark of light appeared and disappeared almost as quickly.

  About ready to ask a question Bart tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head no. He put two fingers to his lips and pointed in the direction they had seen the light. Steve nodded. They had seen someone lighting a cigarette.

  Maybe it was time to get glasses?

  Steve shook his head and pushed the errant thought out of the way. They had a job to do. He gave the signal to Hank, who got as close as he dared to the smoking man.

  They heard a strangled cry and then the ‘all clear’ whistle Hank had shown them earlier. Steve crept after Hank, quietly stepping through dew covered plants and pushing past damp greenery. Within moments his clothes were soaked. He increased his body temp and watched the wetness receding from his skin, much like how a wet spot on a concrete slab would quickly recede under a blazing sun. Dry, and much more comfortable, Steve hurried to catch up to his two humungous bodyguards.

  He noticed that both Hank and Bart were also wet but neither acted like they noticed, let alone cared. For over thirty minutes they traveled in this manner, hiding in the trees and the underbrush running alongside the road. No one wanted to risk venturing out into the open. As Steve had repeatedly warned everyone, he couldn’t melt bullets fast enough to be of any use so it was best to stay out of the way.

  They had incapacitated two more guards before they finally saw the sheriff’s private home. Steve stared at the lodge in shock. It was easily twice as big as the manor, which was truly saying something. The lodge was a simple A-frame style building but it was absolutely enormous. There were windows in all directions but the large main window was pointed straight at them, presumably to have a view of the lake and town.

  There were also three much smaller buildings sitting nearby. One of them, Steve knew, was the entrance to the mine. Behind one of those doors was Sarah. He just had to know which one. Deke had said the northern shack was the one they wanted but how was he supposed to know which one that was?

  “Anyone know which way north is?” Steve whispered.

  Hank and Bart both shrugged.

  Steve grumbled a reply but wasn’t heard. He clenched a fist in frustration. He remembered hearing the lodge faced town, which was directly behind him, so that meant the northern shack should be… Steve peered at the three tiny shacks and grumbled. They all looked like they could be considered ‘northern’.

  “Do not light anything on fire,” Hank reminded him. “Not yet. We’d be seen.”

  “You think?”

  Hank turned to him as though he had just heard the stupidest remark on the planet.

  “Yes. Yes, I do think.”

  “Wow. We need to work on your sarcasm skills. Okay, we’re going to have to mmmf!”

  Hank had slapped a hand over Steve’s mouth, instantly cutting him off. He pointed at the main lodge. Three men had just come out the front door and split up. Two went to the shack on the far right and one went to the shack in the middle. Steve eyed the small building on the right.

  “It’s that one.”

  Bart shook his head. “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Sure I do. Two people just went in. That’s gotta be the mine.”

  One person emerged from the shack on the left, carrying an armful of gear. He disappeared into the lodge. A few minutes later four men emerged from the lodge. Three went into the far left shack while one went to the one in the middle.

  “Is this some type of joke?” Steve grumbled to himself. “Why do I feel like we should be keeping track of how many people went into each building?”

  They watched as several teams of horses were hitched to three different wagons which, Steve noted with dismay, were fully loaded. A fourth wagon was produced, along with a fourth team of horses. Within moments they were hitched together. The men began loading this wagon, too.

  “He’s certainly planning on leaving,” Steve observed. He scowled. This wasn’t what he wanted to see. He was hoping they’d be early enough where they could slip in and out completely undetected. Now, however, it looked as though everyone was already awake. They were going to have to act quickly.

  “Hank, you and Bart are up. I need a diversion. You said you could create one mother of a distraction. Let’s see what you can do. Remember, be subtle.”

  Hank and Bart reached behind their backs and slid their hands up under their coats. After a few moments of fumbling around they proudly showed Steve what they were holding: dynamite. There was a stick of dynamite in each of their massive hands. Bart grinned at him.

  “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

  “No blowing up any buildings until we get Sarah out of there,” Steve warned. He turned to look up at each of his companions. “I mean it, guys. We’re here to save Sarah. She’s our priority.”

  “You got it, boss,” Hank jovially told him. He and Bart stepped back into the woods and disappeared.

  Steve eyed the three small shacks. Which one should he try first? He hadn’t realized how long he had been squatting on the ground amidst the damp plants until one of the shacks, the one in the middle, suddenly vanished in a brilliant flash of light. In the quiet stillness of the pre-dawn morning, the ear-shattering explosion ripped through the countryside, rattling windows and shaking trees.

  Steve rolled his eyes. “Subtle. Really freakin’ subtle. Did I, or did I not tell those guys to wait until we knew which one was the mine?”

  The lodge door banged open and a whole slew of men came pouring out. One man, an older fellow in his fifties, began shouting orders.

  “Put that out! As quickly as possible! They’ll be seein’ that all the way from town. Hurry, you ignorant louts!”

  Steve’s eyes narrowed. It was the sheriff. Who else would snap out orders and insults like that and not expect to get a bullet in return? He’s the one who was responsible for Sarah’s capture. Steve clenched his fists, which had immediately turned dark red.

  A bucket line was quickly formed. While one man furiously cranked a water pump, another man filled buckets and passed them down the line. It wasn’t the most effective way to put out a fire, but if the building was small enough, then it would suffice. In this case, there wasn’t really anything left of the small tool shed. All they had to do was douse a few lingering fires.

  The sheriff returned to lodge, shouting orders the entire way back.

  “Make sure you get it all the way out. If there are flare ups then it’ll be seen from town. Find out who was on duty and bring them to me. And for the love of god, find out what the hell happened to Deke! Tell him to get his sorry butt up here as soon as possible. I won’t be waitin’ for him. If he gets left behind then he’s outta luck. You got that?”

  The small group of men that were flanking the sheriff all nodded and eagerly rushed off. Four men disappeared into the shack on the left and the remaining two went into the shack on the right. Steve eyed the two buildings. He looked at the one on the right. More people were going into that one than the other. That had to mean they were checking out the mine and presumably on Sarah. That had to be the right one.

  Steve snuck in as close as he dared in the woods and before he lost his nerve, he sprinted for the shack and slipped inside.

  “The sheriff was right,” he heard a smug voice say. “He’s very predictable.”

  There was a single lantern in the small utility shed. It was enough to illuminate all four corners of the tiny building and show Steve that there were not four but at least a dozen men all hiding inside, presumably waiting for him to ‘sneak’ in.

  Unfortunately for the men, Steve’s patience had just worn out. He smiled at each of the burly men and dropped his arms to his sides.

  “Before we get started, would anyone like to leave?”

  Had someone been there to drop a pin it would have been heard by all. Steve shrugged.

  “Alrighty, then. Suit yourself. Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

  Arms were instantly thrown around him from behind while several of them pulled their guns to shove them in his face.

  “Last chance, guys.”

  No one moved. A few of them even snickered derisively.

  The howls and screams began. The man holding him suddenly couldn’t let go fast enough. Those holding guns instantly dropped them and screamed in pain as the white hot metal burned their hands. Steve’s fists ignited and traveled up his arms to encompass his chest. Deciding a good show was in order he allowed the flames to completely cover his body.

  No burning my clothes like you did with Lissa, Steve instructed his jhorun. I’m not doing this in the buff.

  The men scrambled for the door. It was yanked right off its hinges and tossed aside as half a dozen men ran, screaming, from the shed. The other six decided that departure via the main door wasn’t fast enough and instead punched their way through the thin wooden walls, creating a half dozen new doors in the process.

  Once Steve was outside he looked angrily back at the shack. It belonged to the sheriff. He contemplated destroying it with a chaser, in the chance it might make him feel better, but was spared from making that decision. The shack, being true to its namesake, collapsed in on itself due to the many new openings scattered around its walls.

  Steve eyed the remaining shack. Figures. Of course it’d be the last shack he’d check. Remembering he wasn’t supposed to be standing out in the open, he hurried over to the small dilapidated building and reached for the handle. A bullet plunked into the wood inches from his hand. Steve turned and saw someone crouching by the corner of the lodge. That person was raising a rifle for another shot.

  Steve generated a chaser and flung it straight at the shooter. The man dove to the ground, thinking that it’d simply pass over him. The chaser flew over and instantly swung around to home in on its target. Steve halted it less than a foot from the man’s face.

  “You fire another shot at me and next time I won’t stop it. You got that?”

  Terrified, the man nodded.

  “Start running, in case I change my mind.”

  The man complied. He was at least a hundred feet down the road by the time Steve called the chaser back to his hand. He noticed his entire body was engulfed in flames and decided to conserve his jhorun by only allowing his hands to burn. He opened the door and went inside.

  Rows of lanterns hung on pegs inside the dark shack. He noticed the fat wicks inside each of the lanterns and lit them all simultaneously. Once the tiny room was properly illuminated he saw the dark staircase leading down. He peered down the stairs. There could be anyone lurking just out of sight.

  A large chaser formed. He instructed the huge fireball to lead the way, figuring if someone would risk firing off a shot it’d be best to go after the chaser first. He was in luck. He emerged onto a landing without a single shot being fired. He ordered the large chaser to split into four smaller, regular sized ones and spread out.

  Steve groaned. There were tunnels leading off in multiple directions. How was he supposed to know which one he was supposed to follow? Mines could extend for hundreds, if not thousands of feet below the ground. He could literally search for days and not find her.

  He pondered the problem. There had to be some indication of which way to go. Maybe he could venture down a few, just for a little ways, and see if he could see anything?

  Steve chose the closest tunnel and stepped foot inside. He instantly turned around and drew an arrow, in fire, on the mouth of the tunnel, and pointed it back the way he had come. There was no way he was going to trust his sense of direction now. In a dark mine? No way.

 

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