The veins stood out in Tallulah’s neck. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. She advanced toward Skye. “You killed him!” She came at Skye’s neck with hands curled into claws, then leaped onto her, and they both tumbled to the floor.
Skye could smell the unwashed odor that emanated from Tallulah. The woman’s breath stank as she grappled with Skye on the wooden floor. Tallulah’s hands tightened on Skye’s throat.
The pressure made Skye gag, and she fought to catch her breath. She tried to pry the fingers loose, but Tallulah just pressed harder. Dark spots danced in Skye’s vision, and she gasped for air. She finally managed to pry one finger loose and bent it back until the woman released her.
Skye rolled away and sprang to her feet. She put a table display of painted stones between them.
Tallulah stood with her hands clenched. Her chest rose and fell in heaves. “Murderer! Witch! Those herbs you gave me didn’t work.” She started toward Skye again.
Skye backed away. “Are you talking about Robert?” Her stomach roiled. Robert was dead? She shuddered. The teenager was one of her favorites, and she remembered the listless air he’d had when his mother brought him in. His coloring had been pasty as well.
“You killed him.” Tears rolled down Tallulah’s face, and she covered her face with her hands.
Skye wanted to comfort her, but she didn’t dare get too close. “Did you take him to the doctor like I told you? The herbs just enhance health, they won’t cure someone who is that sick.”
“I don’t hold with doctors. If you’d given me the right herbs, he’d still be alive.” The bereaved mother wept and pulled on her hair. “It’s all your fault.” She started toward Skye, who moved to keep the table between them.
“I gave you what you asked for, but I told you to take him to the doctor. What happened?”
“A ruptured appendix, they say.” Tallulah’s face twisted with grief. “Then gangrene.”
“Oh, no. I told you I thought it was his appendix.” Skye’s knees threatened to buckle. Could she have done more to save the boy? She’d begged Tallulah to take the teen to the hospital. Maybe she should have called someone.
“Don’t try to blame me. It’s your fault. And I’m going to make sure you pay.” Tallulah bared her teeth, then turned and plunged down an aisle toward the door.
Skye drew a deep breath when she heard the door slam. She reached out and grabbed the side of the table with shaking hands. Everyone in town talked about Tallulah, but this had been her first experience with the woman’s uglier side.
She rubbed her throat. The sheriff should be told about this, but she didn’t have the heart to get the other woman in trouble. She’d lost her son, and anyone would be a little unhinged.
Shaken more than she wanted to admit, she fixed a cup of chamomile tea and went to the window seat that looked out on her back garden. She sipped it until her nerves settled. Good thing her mother hadn’t been here. Mother would have fainted.
Glancing at her watch, she realized she had just enough time to check in with the mine’s manager, James Manomen. She drove out to the mine and parked beside Jake’s SUV.
She had tried to avoid the place until she adjusted to the thought of what the paleontologist was doing out here, yet being present caused a physical ache. She turned her gaze away from the sight of Jake working with Wynne and two other men.
The mine opening yawned in the side of the wildflower-covered hillside. She stepped to the entrance. Inside, lights strung along the sloping sides illuminated the tunnel she walked down. She felt cold, as cold as the water dripping along the floor of the mine, and wished she’d brought a jacket. Inside the mine, it was always around fifty-five degrees, and the damp had a way of permeating one’s bones.
Her manager crouched over a massive drill. Her cousin, Michael Blackbird, stood over him holding a light, and the drill operator stood off to one side.
“Problems, Pop?” she asked.
A big Ojibwa, the manager James Manomen wore his black hair in a single long braid down his back. In his forties, he’d been like another father to Skye for more years than she could count. Calling him Pop helped fill a void in her life.
James shook his head. “I’ve repaired it.” He straightened and punched the button to restart the drill. The engine rumbled to life, and the noise was near deafening.
“Let’s go to my office,” Skye shouted.
James and Michael nodded and followed her down the corridor to the office. Michael shut the rusting metal door behind him. The door muffled the sound of the drill down to a dull roar. “I have high hopes for this tube,” he said.
Her cousin’s face was grimy with grease. He reminded her of her father with a white wing of gray hair on the right side of his black hair. About forty, he was the only son of Skye’s Uncle Louis and was the only other member of the family to work at the mine. She’d never been close to him since he was so much older.
Skye’s fingers tightened on the coffee cup in her hand. “You really think this could be it?”
He nodded. “You’re the first one who noticed the kimberlites. Surely, you’re not losing hope now.”
“The kimberlites don’t always mean diamonds.” She didn’t want to admit how discouraged she felt today. The kimberlites were special rocks that were often found in conjunction with diamonds. She could only hope and pray that was the case here.
“No, but you’ve never lost faith that the stones are here,” James put in.
“We’ve been searching for two years, James.” Her voice sounded weary, even to herself. “We’re running out of money.”
“Ask Peter for more. He’ll do anything for you,” Michael said.
“I can’t keep taking handouts from him. At some point, I’m either going to have to find the diamonds or admit defeat. The assayer he hired a couple of weeks ago found nothing.” She handed him a cup of coffee then poured one for James.
James’s eyes widened as he took the coffee she offered him. “I’ve never heard you talk like this. What’s wrong?”
She plopped into the old chair at the metal desk. “Am I fooling myself, guys? I’ve been chasing this dream so long I’m not sure anymore. Sometimes a dream is just that. I might have to face reality.”
Michael sat in one of the chairs. Her cousin was the only one of her father’s relatives her mother still had contact with. His father, Louis Blackbird, never worked more than a couple of months out of any year, and he blamed Mary for the way his brother had run off. A big man weighing nearly two hundred and seventy pounds, Michael’s sturdy strength was a constant source of support for Skye.
He propped his feet up on the desk. “Has someone been talking to you?”
Skye hesitated. “Mother is ready to shut down the mine.”
“It still produces garnets,” he pointed out. “This is our livelihood, Skye.”
“Yes, but we’re losing money. We can’t continue at this rate. I see her point.” James took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “I think this must have been made this morning.”
“I want to try the Mitchell tube,” Michael said.
“Peter doesn’t want us to go there. He says it’s too dangerous.” Skye had wanted to work in that tube for years, but her stepfather had forbidden the venture. She knew the tube wasn’t safe, but part of her longed to chance it.
“We could shore up the walls,” James suggested.
“It would cost too much.” She sighed and took the last swig of coffee and rose. “I have