“Where is the mine entrance?”
Amos unfolded one of the maps.
“North of town. Near the old creek bed. But you won't get in through the main shaft. It's been watched for years.”
Nora leaned over the map.
“My father marked another entrance.”
She pointed to a narrow line running beneath the hills.
Amos frowned.
“That tunnel collapsed.”
“Not entirely,” Nora said.
Luke looked at her.
“How do you know?”
She reached into her coat and removed another paper.
“My father left a second letter. I didn't understand it until I saw your brother's button.”
She unfolded the page.
Beneath the dust, the truth waits.
The words were followed by a rough drawing of a wooden door.
Luke looked from the drawing to the map.
“The old storage tunnel.”
Amos nodded slowly.
“That's where the company kept its original records before they moved everything to Denver.”
Nora's eyes widened.
“Then the evidence could still be there.”
Luke folded the map.
“Let's find out.”
They waited until nightfall.
Amos stayed behind to watch the town, while Luke and Nora followed a narrow trail through the forest.
Snow covered the ground, but the old mining road was still visible beneath the trees.
They reached the abandoned shaft shortly before midnight.
The entrance was hidden behind a wall of fallen timber and broken stone.
Luke examined the wooden supports.
“Someone has been here recently.”
Nora crouched beside him.
“How can you tell?”
“Fresh marks on the wood. And those tracks.”
A set of boot prints led into the darkness.
Luke drew his revolver.
“Stay behind me.”
They entered the tunnel.
The air smelled of damp earth and rusted iron. Their lantern cast long shadows against the walls, revealing old mining tools and broken carts.
For nearly twenty minutes, they followed the narrow passage.
Then they reached a wooden door.
The drawing in Nora's letter matched it exactly.
A brass lock hung from the handle.
Luke tried it.
Locked.
Nora examined the frame.
“There's a keyhole on the other side.”
Luke frowned.
“How would my father have opened it?”
Nora turned the brass button over in her palm.
Then she noticed a tiny groove along its edge.
She pressed the button against a small indentation in the lock.
A faint click echoed through the tunnel.
Luke stared at her.
“What did you do?”
“My father said the button would identify the messenger.”
She pushed the door.
It opened.
Beyond it lay a small room filled with broken furniture, rusted tools, and wooden shelves.
At the far end stood a desk.
A thick layer of dust covered its surface.
Luke approached slowly.
Beneath the desk lay a leather satchel.
Inside were several letters, a stack of mining records, and a small journal.
Nora lifted the journal.
“My father's handwriting.”
Luke opened the first page.
The date was three years earlier.
The first sentence read:
If anyone finds this, it means Elias Harper failed to escape, and the truth has been buried with him.
Luke's hands began to shake.
He turned the page.
The journal described the night Elias had been captured.
It described Sheriff Briggs ordering the miners to seal the tunnel.
It described Charles Harper arriving shortly afterward.
And it described a conversation between Charles and the sheriff that changed everything.
Charles had known Elias was alive.
He had known where his son was being held.
And he had agreed to keep the secret.
Luke closed the journal.
For several seconds, he could not speak.
Nora touched his arm.
“Luke?”
He shook his head.
“My father knew.”
A sound echoed behind them.
Boots.
Someone was coming down the tunnel.
Luke extinguished the lantern.
A voice rang through the darkness.
“Harper! Put down your weapon!”
Sheriff Briggs.
Luke drew his revolver.
Nora clutched the journal.
Another voice followed.
“You should have stayed on your ranch, boy.”
Luke recognized it immediately.
Charles Harper.
His own father.
The man who had raised him.
The man who had helped bury his brother.
Luke stepped toward the doorway.
“Where is Elias?”