His father was an outlaw, and he died because he stole gold from Dean Wilder, the leader of the Hollow Creek Riders.
It didn’t make any sense. For so long, Blaze had been defending his father. He was convinced the man had done no wrong.
And his mother? She would have known. Or had Thomas Buckeye been lying to her as well?
Blaze ran a hand down his face. It felt like he was living a lie.
In the middle of it all was Rachel. Innocent Rachel.
And he had left her in the care of Robert Kane, another outlaw who had been close to Wilder in the past.
It was starting to add up. All the inconsistencies began to make sense. How could Blaze have been so stupid?
The ground shuddered.
“What in . . .” Blaze said, stumbling.
Another tremor rolled through, stronger this time. Dust sifted down from the rafters, powdering his shoulders. The lamplight flickered once more.
“Not now,” he breathed. “Not here.”
A beam groaned above him. Wood snapped like a breaking bone. The lamp swung on its hook, shadows leaping across the rough stone walls.
Somewhere deeper in the tunnels, a man screamed. It must have been another Rider.
“Cave’s goin’!” another voice shouted. “Run, damn it, run!”
Boots thundered past an adjoining shaft, shapes barely visible through the haze. Blaze saw one Rider sprinting with a sack over his shoulder before the man vanished behind a cloud of dust.
He crouched and grabbed the lantern, coughing. The gold dust from the air stuck to his skin, clinging like glittering poison.
“Wilder,” Blaze muttered again, though the man was long gone. “You fool.”
A crash tore through the tunnels. One of the supports gave way completely, splitting apart in a thunderous crack. Rocks poured from the ceiling like a waterfall. Blaze threw himself behind a fallen cart, shielding his head as the passage collapsed where he had just stood.
The lantern shattered. The light died. Darkness swallowed everything.
“Blaze!”
The voice was faint, but he recognized it instantly.
“Blaze! Can you hear me?”
“Marisol?” he shouted back, choking on dust. “I’m here!” The echo bounced off the tunnel walls, warped and distant.
“I’m comin’!” her voice cried again, somewhere far above the main shaft.
“No!” he yelled. “Stay out! The whole thing’s—”
The rest vanished beneath another explosion of sound. A rafter split. The tunnel floor heaved under him. He fell to one knee, groping for balance as a tide of gravel and rock poureddown. His fingers brushed Wilder’s revolver on the ground. The steel was still warm from the shot, but he left it there.
He pushed to his feet, blinking through the dust. The faint gray glow from the entrance was all he could see ahead. Every instinct screamed for him to run.
But his mind wouldn’t settle. Wilder’s words burned behind his eyes.
His father was a thief. A cheat. A man with blood on his hands.
He shook his head, trying to shove it away. The mine kept answering with thunder.
