Murder in the Mine: The Lost Gorge Mysteries, #4

By Lee Dawson

When Liam stumbles onto a hundred-year-old murder, he releases a killer a century in the making.

Back in 1922, part of the Lucky Star mine collapsed on its unlucky owners, entombing their bodies in the mountain. To keep anyone else from dying in the unstable mine, the townspeople dynamited the entrance and hid the location forever.

A hundred years later, Liam Orrick, a direct descendant of one of the miners stumbles onto the abandoned mine. With the help of historian Catherine Kessler, he plumbs its deadly depths to discover two bodies—one a skeleton and one a whole lot newer.

With that discovery, the mine is investigated and its dangers awakened. When descendants of the cursed miners start dying, Liam and Catherine know their best chance to stop the deaths in the present is to solve the mysteries of the past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Dawson
• Release date: Oct 24, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223710561

Book preview

Chapter 1

Two weeks. That was all the time that stupid cow had to bide in a pasture before her calf could be branded. Then the pair of them would be released into the mountains to live out the spring and summer in relative peace. Instead, she’d slipped through two fences and headed into the mountains early.

On horseback, Liam Orrick followed the errant cow’s tracks up an old game trail lined by still-bare aspens. The cow had managed to leave behind her calf in her desperate attempt at freedom. Liam, peeved at the entire situation, considered leaving her to her own devices, but he didn’t want to be stuck bottle feeding the bawling baby she’d abandoned. They’d already lost more calves than usual this season, which meant less money, and that meant less of everything else.

The higher the cow went, the easier he could follow her tracks. While the valley below basked in the mid-May spring weather, the surrounding mountains still clung to a slushy layer of snow. He had to grudgingly admire the cow’s fortitude as the snow would be knee-deep before long.

After a mile, he realized with dread it wasn’t fortitude that drove the cow high into the dirty snow and pines. Small drops of blood brightened the snow between the cow’s prints. When she’d delivered her calf a few days prior, he’d thought it had been a successful, healthy birth. Only an animal driven by the pain of death would wander this high up.

Liam spurred his gelding faster up the faint trail, unsure of what awaited him.

This part of his family’s ranch wasn’t one he was as familiar with. The trees were sparse, with more rock than greenery separating them. Somehow the cow had managed to find a faint trail he’d never noticed before.

The cow’s baleful cries carried through the thin mountain air and echoed across the high peaks. The rocks slowed down his horse, and he dismounted, wrapping the reins on a nearby branch. Large gray boulders surrounded the area, and he could no longer tell which way the cow had gone. She’d managed to find her way through the rocks while he scrambled on top of them, jumping from one to the other.

He made his way to a break in the trees where he spotted the black animal lying in a middle of a rock-strewn meadow. He stumbled his way to her side. She heaved in deep breaths even as blood seeped out of the birth canal. Despite the obvious injuries, birthing wasn’t what was causing her immediate distress.

Her leg, twisted and bent at an unusual angle under her, meant there would be no hauling her off the mountain and no reuniting her with her calf.

Liam returned to his horse and made it back to her side with a rifle before laying the barrel against her head. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer asking for forgiveness. The echo of the .22’s report replaced the cow’s painful cries. Without being able to hear it, he knew her calf cried below for his missing and now dead mother.

He hated himself and his job at that moment. He also spared some anger toward his cousin who’d chosen the bull that had fathered the calf. The bull had been far too large for their first-year heifers, who were producing calves that tore out of their mothers. This wasn’t the first motherless calf.

The cow’s carcass would need to be cut up and hauled down the mountain before the predators could descend. He didn’t want to encourage the coyotes or wolves to prey on his herd.

With his always-sharpened knife, he went to kneel next to the cow. Instead, his foot slipped into a hole. He slid in past his knee, and he grabbed handfuls of slushy snow that did nothing to slow his slide. For a moment, he had an insane thought he was being swallowed up by the earth itself.

He swung his legs in the space opening up below him. As he slipped down past his chest, his feet finally found solid ground, halting his descent. He stood still, his breath gasping and his fingers losing feeling from the snow he’d clutched.

Once he’d managed to slow his breathing to a post-marathon rate, he crawled back out of the hole barely larger than him—but that didn’t say much. He wasn’t known for his girth. Liam sat in the slush until he had the presence of mind to grab his phone and shine a light down in the hole. Whatever was down there, the light didn’t reach the bottom. This was no animal lair but had to be a shaft into one of the hundreds of mines that crossed all through Lost Gorge Mountains.

He stuck his head in to get a better look but when the dank air reached his lungs, he started to cough. He whipped his head out with the realization he may have stumbled into a piece of history that had been buried a hundred years ago—and buried for good reason.

If he was right, he’d found the mine that had killed his great-great-grandfather and two others. Not only did the legendary mine still contain their bodies, but lore had it the mine held enough silver to make the town rich and enough poisonous gas to kill anyone who dared venture in.

Chapter 2

Catherine Kessler paced the stained-yellow tile floor outside the dean’s office, waiting for her turn to defend her dissertation and her very career. With each step, she silently spoke a word from her presentation that she’d memorized over the last few weeks.

Her actions weren’t based on nerves or stress. Her advisor had assured her with the massive work she’d done over the last few years, she was a shoo-in to earn her Ph.D. in history. The meeting was more a formality than anything. This wouldn’t be her first presentation nor her last, once she’d secured a position as an adjunct professor, specializing in turn-of-the-century Western U.S. history.

Nervous? Her mother interrupted her practicing.

No. Catherine hadn’t invited her parents, but they’d insisted that Catherine would need emotional support along with all the financial support they’d provided over the years. She wasn’t sure what emotions needed support, but all she felt now was irritation at the interruption.

Her advisor mounted the last few steps from the lobby with a huff. Ready? The history building at the state university didn’t possess the funds of the business school, which meant the elevator was not and probably would never be fully functional.

No.

It’ll be fine, he said, tightening his loosened tie.

I would hope years of work would accumulate into more than fine. She kept her tone flat, trying to hide her irritation as she’d been told she should with her supervisors. But it would be better than fine if I’d had the time to determine the mine’s location.

She’d specialized in mining and how the industry had shaped the small towns of the Rockies, but one mine in particular had caught her attention. Its very existence, not to mention its location in the Lost Gorge Mountains, was only known to the world through lore. And a hundred years of lore had plenty to say about it.

Filed on by three local men mere days before a cave-in would kill them, the mine was supposedly worth millions and then some. With all that treasure in limbo, the families of the miners and every other idiot with a shovel had descended on the area. Seven more people would die in the mine and its vicinity over the next few weeks.

Supposedly, the cave-in had released poisonous gasses so toxic that the town had dynamited the mine and destroyed every piece of evidence it ever existed. Those who knew the location either took it to their graves or died trying to mine it.

While treasure hunters still sought its wealth, Catherine had only wanted to mine its history. That cave-in had shifted the town’s dynamics and created feuds that still existed today. But like El Dorado, most scholars thought the mine itself was a myth born out of a deadly industry.

I’m so close, Catherine said. I mapped two new mines in the last year alone. Think of what another year could offer.

History is never set in stone. You can continue your studies after your Ph.D.

Could she? Once she was a professor, wouldn’t there be more demands on her time, not less? Her dissertation felt empty without the one thing she’d based it on.

Her advisor continued. Honestly, how its lore has persisted all these years is probably more interesting than the actual mine.

Ms. Kessler. The dean’s assistant stood at the entrance to the department boardroom. Five minutes.

She nodded and readjusted the sole bobby pin that held back her brown bob. After arguing with her advisor several times over the last year, he’d threatened to pull his support. Without an advisor, there would be no degree, and she’d finally acquiesced.

With one minute left, she took out her phone to ensure that it was silenced. She’d already checked it twice but needed to be sure.

A text message popped up from a friend back in Lost Gorge, who’d helped her map out a few of the mines. Catherine had thought she’d discovered it once but was wrong.

In all caps, he’d typed out.

POSSIBLE LOCATION FOR LUCKY STAR!

Catherine’s hand gripped the phone. Before she could ask for any details, the text bubble popped up. While she waited, she bounced on her recently polished shoes.

An Orrick thinks he found an entrance on the old homestead.

She’d begged for permission from the Orrick family to search that homestead but had been assured it wasn’t there, despite all her beliefs to the contrary. She knew it all along.

Ms. Kessler. Her head jerked up at the assistant’s voice. They’re ready for you.

Her glance shot back down to the message. How could she present something so incomplete? But her advisor had insisted on presenting today.

Catherine. Her advisor’s strident tone pulled her attention away from the phone. It’s time.

Her feet made the decision before her brain could finish processing everything, and she strode to the staircase. I have to go.

Chapter 3

Liam couldn’t tell if his morning caffeine had worn off—or if he’d remembered to drink any to start with. That could be due to his morning starting at ten the previous night.

The last of the cows were due to deliver this week, including one that went last night and another about to. Usually, the cows didn’t need any intervention from a twenty-eight-year-old cowhand who hadn’t given birth himself. They could do the work just fine on instinct.

After losing that last cow up the mountain, he was determined to help the rest deliver safely. And to make sure Brent, one of his many cousins, didn’t have the final say in the happenings at the ranch from here on out.

Liam stood behind a black baldie cow who was loudly cursing her situation through baleful moos, and he joined in on the curses but in a quiet whisper to keep her calm—or at least calmer. He knelt in the straw behind her as the hooves of the mid-born calf shot out the birthing canal, only to disappear back in.

Stupid Brent, he muttered. The cow offered a deep-throated moo in agreement. Brent had chosen an oversized bull with oversized stud fees for the heifers to be bred with. Had these been the heifers’ second or third calves, they would’ve popped them out easy enough but not as their first.

While Liam ran the ranching operations of his family, he did so under the watchful eye of the elder generation of Orricks. Every decision, including Brent’s role, was at their say-so.

While Liam had been running the cow/calf operation for five years, Brent had recently graduated with a degree in animal science and was therefore supposed to be his partner.

The calf’s hooves popped out again, and Liam couldn’t wait any longer. He slipped a loop around the two hooves poking out of the placenta. With the next contraction, he pulled on the rope with as much force and gentleness as he could. The calf slipped farther out while the cow collapsed in exhaustion.

Come on, girl. We’re so close, he pleaded. Another contraction came, and the cow pushed again. Finally, a head popped out, and the rest of the body followed, flopping out on the straw. He quickly poked a hole in the placenta and cleared out the nostrils. Usually, mama cows did this themselves, but the poor thing had exhausted herself.

After holding its breath for a good ten seconds, a small puff of air finally flared out of the tiny nostrils. Liam shifted the solid black calf closer to its mama’s nose, hoping the scent would rouse her. While she didn’t get up, she did inch her face to her baby’s and began licking him—or her—he couldn’t quite tell yet.

How many does this make? The sound of his father’s voice jerked Liam’s head around, and he jumped to his feet.

I’m too tired to count that high, but I’ve lost two in the last week.

It’s a hard life, Dane Orrick said. Not all can make it.

Yep, but we made it a lot harder.

Nothing can be done about that now. When he was a kid, Liam had heard his dad complain plenty about the committee’s decisions, but now that he was on the family committee, he tended to shrug his shoulders and go along.

Liam would go along up until Brent had another opinion, and then he’d have something to say. What are you doing up here so early?

It’s eight am.

Liam stuck his head out of the stall door and blinked at the morning sun already above the jagged peaks. He rubbed his eyes. I guess I’d better feed.

Dane grabbed his arm before he could escape the stall. Why don’t I give you a hand?

Something about his father’s tone stopped him. Why?

Can’t a father help his son?

I thought you were going to spend the day clearing the trails. Dane and his brother Sean ran guided trips in the Lost Gorge mountains, with the first trip starting the weekend after Memorial. A winter of heavy snow would mean a layer of downed trees needing to be cleared out.

Well, I need your help with something, and we’d best get the cows fed before that.

Liam sighed like the twelve-year-old he still felt like at times. It didn’t matter how old he grew, he was always at risk of additional chores coming his way. And he always had to say yes.

He waited to interrupt the heavy silence until they’d parked the old farm truck in a large pasture housing the cows that had already given birth. Liam pulled a bale of hay out of the truck bed. It must be bad if you can’t come out and tell me.

Dane cut the twine holding the bale together and spread out its contents. Not bad, just something you’re not going to be happy with.

I’m not planning out the round-up with Brent; I don’t need his input. Liam grabbed another bale from the truck. Memorial weekend was a big deal in his family as everyone within driving distance—which was most of the family—came out to the ranch to brand all the new calves before releasing the herds into the high summer pastures.

It’s not about that, and, yes, you are, his dad said. It’s about the mine.

Liam let the bale fall from the tailgate. No.

We can’t keep it a secret forever.

It’s been a secret for a hundred years; I don’t see how a few more will hurt.

It ain’t right. Dane faced his son, who towered over him by four inches. It’s not our secret to keep. If it is the mine, it’s the tomb of our family members and our neighbors’. It’s everybody’s secret.

We don’t know for sure what’s up there. We don’t even know if we can go in without dying.

You’re right. That’s why I’m bringing in an expert, and she’ll be here in an hour.

Chapter 4

As she slowly drove down the gravel road, Catherine stared at the mountains surrounding the small valley, desperate to determine the mine’s location. For months, she’d examined these mountains, but only through maps. The Orrick family had refused her access to this tiny portion.

When Sol Chapa, a friend of the family and of hers, had set up the meeting, he’d warned her to tread carefully. The family has spent years dealing with treasure hunters trespassing and damaging the land. I had to promise on my mother’s future grave you weren’t here to cause problems.

What problems shouldn’t I cause?

His sigh came through the phone. Catherine, now would be a good time to listen more than you talk.

I can do that. When first coming to Lost Gorge, she’d spent a good amount of time studying the people of the town. Conversing with strangers wasn’t something she did with any skill but needed to if she was ever going to learn the history of the mine. She’d firmly believed the location had been passed down from generation to generation—even if they themselves didn’t know it.

Sol had been the first to reach out to her. She hadn’t known then how much influence that single man had on the entire town—but nor did he seem to.

Catherine drove her car through the double gates and under the arch with the words Clach Hollow Ranch. Clach, Scottish for stone, appropriately described the ring of mountains surrounding the small dell. Two Dodge trucks sat outside the old stone farmhouse, which looked much smaller than she’d expected. About a third of the townsfolk carried Orrick blood, and this land had been in their possession for the last hundred years.

Two men stood next to the trucks—one with a welcoming smile and a younger, taller one in a cowboy hat without. Catherine strode up to the one without. I’m Catherine Kessler. Are you Dane Orrick? Sol Chapa told me you’d reached out to him about the mine. Where is it?

Her parents had drilled into her that there were certain manners that had to be followed in social interactions. She hated those niceties as they were such a waste of time, but her dad always told her, if she wanted wheels to spin, she had to grease them. As much as she was loathe to admit it, his advice had helped her make progress in the shut-off town of Lost Gorge.

But now, with her goal so close, it was all she could do to not yell for the coordinates.

I’m not Dane, the younger man said.

Before she could