The Dead of Winter - By Lee Collins Page 0,76

pulling from the mining crews. Miners were tougher, at least, and they would have known the tunnels better than Harcourt's house staff. The thought had probably never crossed James's mind, though.

Soon, the dark face of the mining facility crept into view. Cora pulled back on Our Lady's reins before she crossed into the building's shadow, looking the place over as James dismounted. It seemed as though nothing had changed since the morning, yet she felt uneasy. A gust of wind blew snow down from the roof into her face. She cursed and raised her arm, trying to shield herself from the freezing shards. She nudged her mare forward, keeping her head low as she rode toward the front door.

"Cora," James called. Something in his voice made her look up. He was standing by the door, bent over so his face was level with the knob.

"What is it, George?" she asked, dismounting.

"Have a look at this," he said.

Cora approached the door. "Well, I'll be damned," she muttered, looking at the shattered ruins of the lock. "Looks like somebody had a hankering for some of your silver, after all."

"So it would seem," James said. He pushed the door open and peered into the darkness. "I wonder if the poor soul is still alive."

"As something, no doubt," Cora said. "I doubt that poor soul of his is still here, though."

James gave her a correcting look, then turned and took a few steps into the building. "Fetch me a lantern, would you, dear?"

"Get your own," Cora said, pushing her way past him. She went over to the desk and picked up one of the lanterns from that morning. She lit it and surveyed the office. "Nothing looks different here."

"Are you sure?" James asked. "I could have sworn I placed the two lanterns side by side when we left this morning."

"Ain't much of a thief that comes through a silver mine and only takes a lantern," Cora said. "Maybe he didn't even get past the office before he got spooked and humped it back to town."

"I reckon he was too busy dragging something through it," Ben said from the doorway. He crouched down and ran his fingers over the floor. "Floor's all scratched up."

"Let me see," Cora said, moving over to crouch beside him. In the yellow glow of the lantern, she could see several parallel scratches along the wooden floor of the office. "Wasn't that big, whatever it was."

"Whatever what was?" James asked.

"Whatever that fellow dragged out of your mine," Cora said.

"You found something?"

"Ain't you been listening?" Cora said. "Somebody dragged something out of here."

"Are you sure?" James asked. He stepped around the desk and knelt down to inspect it himself. "Well, isn't that interesting?"

"Anything in there that could make tracks like this?" Cora asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," James said. "Of course, these tracks don't mean anything was stolen."

Cora looked at him. "The evidence is right under your boots."

"I see the tracks," James said, "but they could have just as easily been made by something being dragged inside."

Cora blinked, then looked back down at the scratches. "Never thought of that."

"I know," James said. "It would also seem that you haven't yet thought to invite the rest of the team inside."

She looked at Ben. "Ain't those boys your responsibility?" she asked him.

"Hardly," James replied before Ben could say a word. "You're the combat expert, and we are taking them into combat."

"Button your lip," Cora said, glaring at the scholar. She turned toward the door and cupped her hands around her mouth. "All right, boys, pile on in here!"

The men shuffled through the door in single file, their faces red from the cold. Once inside, a few of them pulled their bandanas down and blew into their gloves. One volunteer almost looked too young to shave. Cora shook her head as she watched them, praying that they would live to see the next morning.

"You boys ready?" she asked.

They nodded, shuffling their boots. Some of them had lanterns hanging from their belts. Cora held up hers and pointed to it. They took the hint, holding them out for her to light. She lit each in turn, and the small office was soon awash in the warm glow.

Suddenly, something slammed into Cora's back, knocking her forward into the group. The lantern fell from her hand and smashed apart on the floor, spilling flames into the dust. A chorus of surprised hollers filled the room as the men instinctively covered their heads. Cora fell facefirst into their boots,

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