Page 53 of The Long Way Found

He took off his backpack and began to open it.

"I made a copy for you. I mean, if you could read it. I guess I could email it, but I don't know. I like holding it in my hand."

"It's a good feeling, isn't it?" Jack said, taking the two printed pages. "I'd be honored to read this."

Martinez zipped up his backpack and stood, his whole posture lighter than Jack had ever seen it.

"I was so scared, but you were right, Sir. I just had to dive in—and then, once I did, that was it!"

He waved and was gone, leaving Jack smiling.

Who's really teaching here, Colonel?

Jack set the essay on his desk and texted Luke: “Sorry about earlier. I was slammed. Want to talk?”

He didn’t want to feel obligated to Luke so soon after returning to town. He didn’t want to nail down their relationship, either, or talk about his feelings any more than he already had. That was always where he ended up disappointing people, and he wasn’t ready to risk either committing to a full-fledged relationship or letting Luke down by failing to articulate every nuance.

But a work problem? Let’s tackle it.

He opened his laptop, about to lose himself in course prep, when he remembered Martinez’s essay.

By the second paragraph, he knew it was good.

Martinez had done it: The kid could really write.

CHAPTER 19

LUKE

The road to the old Calder silver mine wasn’t on Luke’s GPS, but he was pretty sure he could find the place.

It branched off the highway a few miles past town, then turned to gravel. Jack watched the landscape change as they climbed, with snow still lingering in shaded areas.

“So, this is it,” Jack said. “Calder country.”

“Pretty much,” Luke said. “Every few years, someone talks about developing a tourist site, but nothing ever comes of it.”

They topped a low hill, and the mine entrance appeared suddenly, tucked into the mountain as if someone had cut a gash into it and then walked away without finishing. There wasn’t much left, just splintered gray boards and half-buried railroad tracks. They could barely make out the faded sign that read: CALDER SILVER—NO ENTRY.

“It gets a little tricky with the family tree, but … my great-great-great-grandfather discovered the deposit. Wow, is that right? Yes, I think so…,” Luke said, cutting the engine. “My great-great-grandfather kept it going for a long time, but it was already dying by the early 20th Century.”

“There’s not a lot to see,” Jack said.

“Not on the surface. And it was, you know, a long time ago.”

The air up here was sharp, colder than in town. When a cloud passed in front of the sun, the temperature dropped immediately.

“You come up here much?” Jack asked.

Luke shrugged. “I haven’t been up there in ages. Used to, when I was a kid. My grandfather had an emotional attachment to it, but no one else after that, really. Then in high school, when we were all idiots, we’d come up here to drink beer and listen to our echoes.”

“I don’t remember this,” Jack said. “Maybe that was after me.”

They walked toward the entrance, boots crunching over gravel and snow patches. The mine opening was wide and dark, framed by the remnants of ancient beams. Once inside, the light faded quickly.

After a few yards, it was almost completely dark, and Jack stopped.

“We’re not going deep, right?”