He had to fight to keep from showing his frustration. Especially with Jedidiah's gaze boring into his back like a physical weight.
Once he’d returned the lantern and matches to their places, he settled down on his pallet and stared at the dark ceiling once more.
Time was slipping away like sand through his fingers. One more day and night to get the stolen crates out and loaded on a wagon, then convince his brother to drive it.
He closed his eyes.Lord, I need Your help. Help me convince Sampson to leave this place. And show me a way to get those sapphires out. Give me an opportunity, before it's too late.
The night's silence was his only answer. But he had no doubt God heard him. How He would answer could sometimes look different than Gil expected.
He sighed and rolled to his side, willing his racing thoughts to be still.
Morning would come all too soon. He needed rest, needed to be sharp and ready for whatever challenges the new day would bring.
Gil gripped Jess’s hand as they walked in the cool morning sunshine, following a path around the mountain. The path to Ezekiel’s grave. She’d not taken him this way before, and he was thankful they didn’t have to cut through one of the dark cave tunnels. The mood surrounding them this morning was dark enough. Seeing her good friend’s burial would be hard for her.
She turned away from the mountain, and they traipsed through tall grass toward a meadow broken only by scattered clusters of cedars. Between the trees ahead, a few men had gathered. Two still packed dirt on the grave, while others waited in respectful silence.
Sampson was one of the men working a shovel.
Gil’s throat tightened. At least his brother still possessed the willingness to do what he could for a friend and neighbor. Had he been close to Ezekiel?
As Gil and Jess reached the group, other men joined them, coming in twos and threes.
Jess’s hand tightened in his, and he followed her gaze to the wiry form of Jedidiah.
Gil didn’t let his frustration show. At least he’d given Jess room to be with Ezekiel in his last hours without bullying her.
Would he be as respectful now? A glance at his face showed a glare aimed directly at Gil. He must still be sore about their middle-of-the-night meeting.
Gil nodded and faced the grave. He needed to have his wits about him during this next hour.
They all gathered by the burial spot, forming a half-circle around the freshly-turned dirt. The tall trunks of a pine forest lined the opposite side of the grave. At least two dozen men stood here—more than he’d seen in the mine or the bunkhouse.
No one spoke at first, but a kind of hallowed reverence lingered in the air. Should he lead a prayer or a hymn or something? Jedidiah didn’t seem like he planned to speak. Was there another leader among the men?
Jess spoke before he could decide what to do, her voice trembling slightly. "Ezekiel was one of the best men I ever knew. He never complained, despite pain that would lay many men low. He was always ready with a kind word or a helping hand. I remember the first time I met him. He was sharing his meal with another man who’d come to us hungry. Along with the food, he shared his stories and his kindness. Ezekiel had a way of making even the darkest days seem brighter, just by being there."
She swallowed hard.
Her father had joined them, standing on Jess’s other side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close.
She ran her thumb over the back of Gil’s hand, then released it.
Gil was tempted to push McPharland’s arm away from her. The man couldn’t choose when he wanted to be a doting father and when he’d rather resort to threats. But Jess seemed to takecomfort in having him there, and Gil wasn’t about to cause a ruckus during a funeral.
A fellow down the row cleared his throat. "I remember when I first joined up. I was green as grass and didn't know a thing about mining. Ezekiel took me under his wing, taught me everything he knew. Never once lost patience with me, even when I made numbskull mistakes."
Gil scanned the crowd until his gaze landed on Sampson. His brother had backed to the edge of the group, his face an unreadable mask. What was he thinking?
A thought slipped into Gil’s mind, faint but insistent.
As men told stories about Ezekiel, he could slip away unnoticed. Maybe Sampson would follow, and they could move the sapphires out of the cave twice as fast.
Would Jedidiah notice them leave? Would Mick?
If the other men did, would they raise an alarm?
The way Jedidiah and McPharland were both focused on the mound of dirt, he could probably shift backward and tuck behind a tree to signal Sampson.
