Had Stanton known Gabriel would run into so many difficulties? He’d likely had concerns but not realized the extent of trouble his father would stir up.
And Lord in heaven, but the man was on his honeymoon.
Standing on the ridge, several feet from the entrance of the mine, Gabriel had had no authority to contradict the duke’s orders.
He ought to have done so anyway. He’d had the authority of right.
When he’d first heard the grumbling sound, he’d assumed it was more thunder. But there hadn’t been any lightning.
And the ground had shaken. All his fears, it seemed, would be realized.
He’d taken off running toward the mine. He and a few others who’d been on the outside had been able to enter but couldn’t go any farther than ten yards due to rubble blocking the passage.
Gabriel had sent one of the younger men into town for help and ordered the others to form a brigade.
As the day wore on and then turned to dark, torches of light had been set up all around the entrance and dozens of additional men presented themselves to volunteer in the lifesaving efforts. Hallowell had even deigned to make an appearance and lent authority to Gabriel’s orders. After they’d hauled out Crawford’s body, Gabriel suggested Hallowell go to Ashton Acres in order to inform the duchess of her husband’s death.
Gabriel would have carried out the unpleasant task himself, but as long as the possibility existed that any survivors could be located, he couldn’t tear himself away from the rescue.
All night, they’d been shoveling and removing buckets of earth and, as of yet, had only managed to reclaim three bodies.
Not one who’d been below the earth had yet to have been brought out alive.
Along the edge of the horizon, a lighter blue and purple glow signified morning was near. Nearly the exact color of Olivia’s eyes.
The thought of her reminded him that away from all this carnage, another world existed.
He closed his eyes, nearly overcome with weariness, only for the image of Olivia to be replaced with the blank stare of one of the dead men he’d uncovered a few hours before.
“You’re still here?” Mr. Compton’s voice jolted Gabriel out of his momentary stupor. “I managed a few hours’ sleep and can take over again now. Get some rest before you collapse. Change into dry clothes and have those cuts bandaged. You’ll be no good to anyone if they putrefy.”
Gabriel glanced down at his hands, surprised to notice them bloodied. His muscles protested as he rose to stand, but he welcomed the pain. “I’m fine enough.” And then he glanced around in search of his shovel. It had been here a moment ago, hadn’t it?
“It’s not a suggestion.” The man stared him down. “It’s an order.” Shaking his head, he added, “Besides, we need to evacuate and halt operations again to reinforce the opening. With all this rain, I’m unwilling to risk more men with little hope of finding any survivors.”
Gabriel scrubbed a hand down his face. He hated the thought of any delay when there was still the smallest chance of pulling even one man out alive. Nearly twenty hours had passed since the cave-in, and they’d been unable to elicit a single sign of life from below. It wouldn’t be prudent to put more men’s lives at risk.
“Very well,” he conceded wearily. He hated the thought of sleep though. Because sleeping would involve closing his eyes and replaying the events of the day in his mind over and over again.
He’d failed Stanton. He’d failed his workers. He didn’t deserve a warm bed and a full stomach. Over a dozen men would never know such comforts again. A duke, his friend’s father, had been killed.
And worse. Men who provided for their families on a day-to-day basis. One of them ought to have been him.
When he’d driven Olivia up a few days earlier, the road had been dry and presented only a few ruts he’d had to be careful to avoid. This morning, it was wet, slippery, uneven and in a few places, looked to nearly have been washed away altogether.
Gabriel used caution, only because he didn’t wish any injury to come to Brandy. He’d already caused enough death today without adding his trusty mount to the ever-growing list of casualties.
And so, he could not just amble along carelessly. He forced himself to navigate the animal away from the edge and around some of the deeper ruts. “Careful, girl.” He patted the mare’s neck lovingly. She ought to throw him. Either kick up and buck him off, or stop short, but either way, send Gabriel flying over the edge to a painful and certain death.
It was better than he deserved and yet his horse did neither. Of course, she didn’t. She was a gentle and loyal creature. Besides, that would be too easy. Stanton needed to be notified, as would the families.
That they’d lost a father, a husband, a brother, a son… a fiancé.
The sun crested just as he arrived at the main road, but more clouds were building in the west.
Gabriel didn’t stop Brandy when she turned left instead of right, nor when she followed the short drive to a small house on the edge of Hallowell’s property. He’d stopped thinking. Stopped feeling. If it were up to him, he’d stop breathing. When Brandy finally came to a halt, Gabriel dismounted and then walked her around to the small but clean stable block. He rubbed her down, gave her some grain and then water, and then, having seemingly used up the last of his strength, leaned against the stall with unfocused eyes. He had no idea how much time passed before a voice pierced his exhaustion.
“You are alive.”
