Pit Pony (4 page)

The next time Ned came through he asked if he could give it to Sparky.

“Sure,” said Ned. “Do you like horses?”

“Yes, I do,” said Willie.

“Me, too,” said Ned. “I've got the best job in the mine.”

“That's what I'd like to be — a driver,” said Willie, enthusiastically. For the moment he had forgotten how much he hated working underground.

“Good for you,” said Ned as he drove on.

Willie thought afterwards he could never have lived through that long, first day in the mine if it hadn't been for Ned Hall. When at last the other trapper boy came to take over, he was so tired he could hardly speak. Later, when he stood amongst the men lining up to turn in their lamps, he caught sight of the round, pale-eyed face of Simon Ross standing by the exit. What was he waiting for?

Willie was scared. “I bet he's going to try to get me on the way home,” he thought.

Then he recognized the burly back of the man just ahead of him in the line-up. Fear made him bold.

“Mr. Sutherland, may I walk home with you?” he asked eagerly.

The man turned around and glanced down. “Sure thing, Willie,” he said, and continued his conversation with the other man.

As they went out the door, Simon gave Willie a hard look. Willie pretended not to see him.

It was dark outside. He remembered his father saying that sometimes he had worked for months and never seen the light of day. Willie breathed deeply. The frosty air was clean and sweet. Stars twinkled overhead. The world felt wide and free and wonderful.

“This is what a horse must feel like when it gets out of its barn and runs free in the pasture,” thought Willie. “No wonder it gallops up and down, and tosses its heels like crazy.”

He was too tired to do that. And anyway, Simon was lurking somewhere near.

Willie trudged along close behind Mr. Sutherland.

Chapter 6

Nellie met him at the back door of the house on Sunny Row.

“Take your pit clothes off here. I'll shake the dust out of them. I've put a tub of hot water in the pantry, behind the curtain, like I do for Pa and John. Give yourself a good wash and I'll come in and scrub your back.”

Willie blinked in the light from the kitchen lamp. Everything looked strange and yet familiar, as if in a dream. There was a warm, spicy smell of gingerbread. He felt as if he had been away for a thousand years.

His grandmother smiled at him from her rocking chair beside the black iron stove. The little girls stared at him, wide-eyed, from their places at the table, as John came hobbling out of the parlour on crutches.

“How did it go, Willie?” he asked.

“Fine,” said Willie.

He was too tired to say anything more. The hot bath and clean clothes made him feel better. So did the news that his father had regained consciousness.

“The doctor told him you've gone to work. He knows,” said Nellie.

Tears suddenly smarted Willie's eyes. “Is he gonna get better?” he asked.

“Yes, the doctor thinks so. But it will be a long time before he can work.”

“Can you stick it out until this leg gets better? Maybe six weeks or so?” John asked.

“Sure,” said Willie, but his heart felt like lead. He didn't want to go back, even for one more day. He wondered what his classmates were doing at school. Did they miss him? Who was at the head of the spelling class now?

Nellie gave him a plate of steaming baked beans, and then Sara burst out, “Guess what, Willie? A man came looking for you. He had a long, white beard like Santa Claus.”

“And he brought a bag. I thought it might be full of toys, but it was full of vegetables. Turnips and cabbages and parsnips,” Maggie giggled.

Nellie said, “That's better than toys. We'll have a real Christmas dinner now.”

John laughed. “He said he owed you for some work you did.”

Willie was astonished. “That must have been Charley! How did he find out where I live?”

“He knew all about you,” said Sara, jumping up and down with excitement so that her pigtails bounced. “He knew Papa had had a bad accident.”

“And he knows you're crazy about horses,” added Maggie. “But he sure was surprised to know you had gone to the pits to work.”

“He kept saying, ‘Dear me! Dear me!' over and over,” Sara giggled.

John shook his head at his excited little sisters. “What's the mystery, Willie? Was that where you were? At Charley Howe's farm the night you disappeared?”

Willie nodded. He didn't want to talk about it.

His grandmother seldom interfered, but now she said, in her crackly voice, “That's enough, bairns. Leave Willie alone. He's tired.”

“Two more days of work, then you get Sunday off,” said John. “You can tell us about your adventures then.”

The next morning before Willie had finished eating his porridge, Simon Ross was at the door. Willie looked up with a frown.

“You go along. You don't need to wait for me,” he said, angrily.

“It's no bother,” said Simon, grinning at him.

“I know my way,” Willie insisted.

“I'll wait for ya,” said Simon.

Nellie watched from the kitchen stove. She looked worried, but she didn't say anything.

Willie gulped down the last spoonful of his porridge and picked up his piece-can.

“Bye, Nellie,” he said.

Outside, a half-moon was still shining in the starry sky. Willie tried to keep away from Simon, but the bigger boy kept brushing up against him. Once, when Willie bent to tie his bootlace, a nudge from behind sent him sprawling on his face.

“Oops! Sorry!” said Simon. He helped him to his feet as two men passed them talking earnestly to each other. Willie tried to run and catch up with them, but Simon blocked his way.

All this time they had not said anything to each other. Now Simon said, “Why don't that red-headed sister of yours have no boyfriends?”

Willie was silent.

“I guess she's too ugly. All them freckles,” said Simon.

Willie's face grew hot with anger. He knew why Nellie didn't have a boyfriend. Rory Maclean was a very strict father. He would hardly ever let Nellie go to a ceilidh, and whenever a lad came to call, he would glower at him under his black brows. The boy would grow more and more uneasy and leave early, not to come back.

Secretly, Willie was glad. He didn't want Nellie to get married and leave home. But he couldn't bear to have Simon say mean things about her.

“Nellie's pretty. She could have boyfriends if she wanted,” he muttered.

“Haw!” mocked Simon. He spat on the ground. “What about the old hag, your grandma? People say she's a witch. Is that right, Willie?”

Tears of fury smarted Willie's eyes. He was afraid if he said anything more, he would blubber. He heard men's voices behind them and suddenly, he turned and dashed back.

“Can I walk with you, please?” he begged, breathlessly.

Both men stopped and peered down at him. They were strangers.

“Sure. Why not? Why, you're only a bairn! Are you workin' in the pit?”

Willie swallowed a lump in his throat. “I'm eleven years old. I'm workin' as a trapper. Started yesterday.”

“Right enough. Come along, then.”

The men carried on with their conversation. Willie managed to walk between them. He felt safe. He knew as soon as he reached the lamp house Simon wouldn't bother him with so many men around.

He saw no more of Simon that day or the next, and then it was Sunday. He went to church in the morning, as always, but as soon as the service was over, he hurried off to the waterfront to look for Gem.

When he got to the top of the hill and looked down, he saw that the paddock was empty. All the horses were gone. Gem was somewhere in the coal mine.

Willie walked home slowly, kicking at stones along the way. Even when he got home and was told that his father was improving, he was too sad to say anything. He wouldn't talk about his wonderful day at the farm with Charley. He moped around until it was time to go to bed.

The next day when Ned Hall came through the trap, he asked him, “Is it hard to find a horse in a coal mine?”

“No. It's easy as pie,” said Ned. “All horses go to the stable when their shift is over. Each stall has the horse's name posted on a board. They get to know their own stall. Sometimes, I don't go to the stable with Sparky. I just unhitch him and he trots off by himself. He wants his supper.”

“Oh,” said Willie. “Sometime ... sometime ... could I go to the stable with you?”

“Sure. I'll take you tonight,” said Ned.

That night, on their way to the stable, Willie told Ned the whole story of how he had made friends with the little Sable Island mare. He told about how he had hidden in Charley's barn and then had to take Gem back.

“I guess she'll never get out of the mine again,” mourned Willie.

“Not if she makes a good pit pony,” said Ned, cheerfully.

“What if she doesn't? What if she can't be trained to work like Sparky?”

Ned shook his head sadly.

“Usually a horse like that has to be destroyed. If it can't be trained, it probably won't get sold outside. Nobody wants a kicker or a biter.”

“Gem ain't lazy. She wouldn't ever kick or bite,” said Willie.

“That's all right, then,” said Ned, grinning.

The dimly lighted stables seemed brighter than any other part of the mine. The rough stone walls and pit props had been freshly whitewashed. A strong, horsy smell filled Willie's nostrils. He might have been in one of the livery stables in town. It was the kind of place he loved.

Each animal had its own stall and on each overhead beam was a name — Nellie, Clyde, Molly — Willie walked the length of the stable, reading each name aloud, until he came to the very end.

GEM.

It really was Gem, with the white blaze on her nose, her long blond mane prettily combed, and her thick, woolly coat beginning to look smooth and neat.

She looked around at him, showing the whites of her eyes, and giving a whicker of recognition.

“Gem!” cried Willie. He buried his face in her soft, warm neck.

For a long time, Willie stayed in the stable with Gem, patting her and talking to her.

“Ah, you have new shoes, Gem ... very nice ... and you're goin' to have a fine new harness. You'll have a leather cap to wear on your head … and pretty brass studs on your face mask. You'll look pretty, Gem....”

He looked around to see Ned watching him.

“It's Gem! She's my horse,” said Willie.

“Well, good. Have a visit, then. I spoke to the stableman and he don't mind if you stay for awhile.”

Willie was anxious. “Has Gem started to work yet?”

Ned shook his head. “She's been a bit fractious. She was fine above ground but now she's wary of the dark tunnels.”

Willie's eyes grew wide with fear. “What's goin' to happen to her then?”

“I dunno. It depends if they can find a driver who can handle her.”

“I could handle her!” cried Willie.

Ned rolled the cud of tobacco in his mouth and spat on the ground.

“I'll speak to the stableman and we'll talk about it tomorrow. Good night, Willie.”

Willie was filled with a wild hope. His heart pounded so hard, it hurt. He forgot how tired he was. He ran all the way home and told John what Ned had said.

“I might be goin' to be a driver,” he shouted with happiness.

John looked worried. “Calm down, Willie. Your friend, Ned, shouldn't get your hopes up like that. It's not likely they'll let a little boy like you drive a wild horse.”

“But she's not really wild,” said Willie.

“Lots of men have been killed or injured, drivin',” said John. “Sometimes there's a runaway box, if it's not properly spragged. Sometimes a box goes off the rails and upsets. Sometimes a horse….”

“I don't care,” interrupted Willie. “I'll be a good driver if they'll just give me a chance. You wait and see!”