Skip Rock Shallows (24 page)

Tern hung back as Elbows was carried to safety. He didn’t want any attention focused on himself—good attention or bad. He knocked dirt from the knees of his pants and tucked his shirt in neatly as if that helped the rough way he looked. He’d have to clean up before he went to DC. They’d think he was a bum and throw him out of the depot if he tried to get a train ticket in his condition. But first, he had to get to Lilly. No way was he leaving without telling her where he was going and why.

As much as he hated the thought, his best bet was to stay in the mine until dark; then he could slip into the boardinghouse and retrieve his things. Since the men thought he was a drifter, nobody would be surprised if he suddenly disappeared. He’d find a way to talk to Lilly before he got Apache from the livery, then ride a few towns over, secure boarding for the horse, get a room for the night, and hop a train to Washington the next day.

It felt so good to have a plan. He gathered up the raggedy blankets and quilts and made a pallet to lie down on. After turning up the wick, he set one of the left-behind lanterns on a rock beside his makeshift bed. He never wanted to be in total darkness again. Stretching from side to side, he worked the kinks out of his back as he prepared to catch a few winks. He hoped he’d dream of Lilly and not of Elbows.

Tern didn’t see the missile hurtling through the air, but he sensed it coming. Before he could duck, the rock struck him square in the base of his skull. One blow and the ground rose up to meet him. He did see the booted foot that kicked him in the ribs and kidneys. Pain exploded through his body like a series of firecrackers as he tried in vain to make sense of what was going on. He was still in the cavern room. Elbows had been rescued. Now someone was beating him senseless.

“You’ve kilt him,” a voice said.

“So? Who cares? If he ain’t dead, he soon will be. Dirty scab. Come on—help me hide his carcass.”

The voices were vaguely familiar, but in his addled state he couldn’t put faces on them. His brain had turned to mush. Tern felt himself being lifted by his wrists and ankles.

“Where we supposed to put him?”

“We’ll stick the rat back in the hole he just crawled out of. Serves him right.”

“That’s the first place they’ll look when he comes up missing.”

Tern willed himself to keep still—play dead. If they thought he was alive, they’d surely finish him off. He saw stars when his head cracked against the narrow opening as the two men shoved him into the tunnel.

He heard one whisk his hands together. “That’s that.”

“Not hardly,” the man who seemed to be in charge said.

“What have you got up your sleeve now?”

“Company wants us to work Number 4 so bad—well, let’s work it real good. Lookee here what I snagged.”

“Dynamite? What are we gonna do with dynamite?” Tern could hear fear creeping into the second man’s voice.

“Fire in the hole!” the leader said and laughed a mirthless laugh. “Kaboom!”

Tern fought to remain conscious as their voices faded. Alarm fueled a burst of strength. He scrambled like a rat in a maze to the other end of the tunnel, where he crouched down to wait, praying for his life.

When the blast came, it rattled his teeth and shook his bones, but it didn’t kill him. The crawlway that had trapped Elbows had protected him—for the moment. But the detonation was so powerful it would surely set other cave-ins in motion, like a long run of dominoes.

Every nerve in his body screamed
run
. But there was no running. There was only stumbling and bumbling and feeling his way over boulders and fallen timbers. There was only gasping for breath behind the scant protection of the mask he’d made of his bandanna. There was only searching in the flat blackness for the feeblest bit of light. There was only hoping that deadly methane gas was not already sealing his fate.

He could feel the walls of the mine vibrating with energy. An evil presence stalked him like a monster loosed from its bonds. Which way should he go? He couldn’t find a landmark in the dark. He fought his fear as best he could. It wouldn’t help to lose his nerve. Surely the Lord hadn’t saved him just to let him die here like a fox with his foot in a trap.

Tern saw a glimmer of light thirty-five feet or more off the ground. Could a lamp or a lantern have been flung up there by the force of the blast? He’d seen stranger things.

At the base of the rock face, he searched for one step up and then another. He wedged his hands into fissures and his feet into cracks and pulled himself toward the light, grimacing with the pain of his injuries. The higher he climbed, the brighter the light became. Obviously the explosion had opened a passageway to the outside. Fresh air poured in through the opening, sharpening his senses and teasing him with the mixed scents of a hot summer day: the sharp green of newly cut grass, tasseled corn mellowing in a field, heavy clusters of purple grapes turning to must. Tern could smell life beckoning.

Dripping with sweat and shaking with the exertion, he inched upward. A mere six feet from the opening, he came up under a shelf rock. He scoured the limestone on either side, hoping to spy an easy way around the ledge. His fingers cramped. If they went numb, he was in serious trouble.

His position was tenuous at best; a rumble from deep inside the mine made it even more so. The mountain seemed like it was trying to shake him off his perch—as if he was of no more value than a bug on a potato vine.

Daringly, he reached one hand at a time and grabbed the lip of the ledge. For a moment he swung like a pendulum, hanging in space by his fingertips, nothing below him but death. By willpower alone, he forced his body to be still as, miraculously, his left foot found a narrow gap in the rock face. Channeling his energy, he chinned himself on the outcropping.

“Aieeee!”

The scream from above was unexpected and nearly made Tern lose his grip.

There was someone else on the narrow ledge! There was no room for him. He gritted his teeth and prayed, “God, get me out of here.”

His fingers started slip-sliding off the ledge. He swung his right leg up and planted it on the rock. A hand clamped around his wrist and helped him pull as his knees found valued leverage and he hurtled upward, landing hard on the body of another man. The exit to the outside was just above their heads.

“I’m sorry,” the only man standing said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wasn’t in on the plan to kill you.”

“Get out while you can!” Tern yelled. “This whole place is going to blow!”

The man climbed up and out. Tern tried to lift the other fellow’s limp body over his head, but his arms had lost their strength.

“Leave him,” the man outside said, looking down on him. “He tried to kill you, and he would’ve gladly killed me to save himself.”

“Lean in,” Tern said, hefting the man as far as he could. “Grab him under the arms and help me.”

The man did what Tern asked, and between the two of them, they hauled and shoved the body out. A moment later, Tern was gulping air and spitting coal dust.

The mountain rumbled and vibrated like a volcano on the verge of erupting. Number 4 was meeting its demise. The warning whistle blared and he chanced a look over his shoulder. Rocks shot out from their escape hatch like cannon fodder and rained down around them. He was going to get brained yet. They ran for their lives, dragging the body between them.

When he felt a safe distance away, Tern stopped to catch his breath. He bent over the still form. The man was dead. Dark blood coagulated in the baseball stitches crisscrossing his bald pate.

“We saved him for nothing,” the other man said.

Tern balled his fist, swung, and connected. The man went down. Tern cocked his hand like a gun and pointed it at the man’s head. “You never saw me,” he said.

“Mister,” the other man said, rubbing his jaw, “I ain’t seen nothing all day.”

“Tell Bob’s family where to find him,” Tern said, stalking away. “They’ll want a decent burial.”

A wave of disbelief descended on Lilly when Mr. James pulled the wagon up to the front of the clinic. They had heard the whistle screaming from way up the road. Surely there was not another cave-in. Thick, choking dust and a sound like a freight train rumbling down the rail filled the air.

“What now?” Mr. James said, leaping from the wagon seat and reaching up to help Lilly down.

Darrell was waiting on the stoop. “More trouble,” he said, unhitching the team. “I’ll just get these two to the stable.”

Mr. James disappeared into the maelstrom.

“Be careful,” Lilly called after him. “Mr. James, be careful.”

Covering her head with her hands, she ran inside. Dust seeped in under the door and around the window frames. The clinic was empty except for the forewarning bird. His cage hung from the coatrack. Thank goodness someone had brought him down from the first-aid station or he’d likely have perished. His tiny lungs could not have withstood another assault.

She opened the cage door, and the biddy stepped onto her finger. Wearily she sank into the chair by the window. The bird hopped from her finger to her shoulder. She could feel his tiny beak pulling strands of her hair loose from its pins.

She wished Ned were there—or Armina. It wasn’t a time to be alone. But Armina was safely home with Aunt Orie and the children, and Ned was on his way to Lexington with Elbows. They’d called ahead from the station, and Dr. Coldiron would meet the train. Elbows would have the best of care.

Ned carried Lilly’s letter of acceptance in his jacket pocket. He would give it to her mentor. She wondered what the good doctor would think of the special considerations she’d added to the contract.

Lilly had been conflicted over whether to go on the train with Elbows and Ned, but if she had, who would do her job? She studied her motives. She abhorred deceit, even if she was only lying to herself. Her real reason for staying behind was her fear for Tern’s safety and her strong desire to see him once again. She was a medical doctor, a scientist. She’d vowed to never let her heart rule her head. Now here she sat, pining away like untold legions of women before her. She sighed. The truth was she would trade her degree for a piece of tissue paper just to know he was all right.

Rocks pinged on the tin roof like popcorn in a hot pan. A fist-size stone crashed through the window and landed in the middle of the floor. A mighty force was taking down the mountain. She hurried to the surgical suite and crawled under the operating table. The bird squawked in terror, planting his claws into her shoulder. She palmed the tiny body and held him to her heart. When her heartbeat slowed, his did also. His beak went to work on one of the buttons on the front of her blouse.

The outer door opened and closed. Myrtie rushed in, furling her umbrella. Lilly would have laughed if she wasn’t so upset. Only Myrtie would use an umbrella against a storm of rock.

“Thank goodness you’re all right,” she said when she spied Lilly under the table. “I saw the wagon outside. Where’s Stanley?”

Lilly crawled out and dusted her skirts. The bird’s tiny head poked out of her blouse pocket. “He went up the mountain as soon as we got back from the depot.”

“It’s just one thing after another,” Myrtie said, then tsked. “You and that silly bird.”

Others trailed in seeking information and comfort. Soon the office was filled with women and children. Not one to be caught idle, Myrtie busied herself sweeping up the shards of glass. She set little Timmy Blair to work fashioning a cardboard patch for the broken windowpane.

“Turnip said the whole top of the mountain is gone,” Tillie Tippen said. “The first-aid station and the canteen are busted. Sorry, Doc.”

“I’m worried sick,” Mrs. Blair said. “I’ve not seen Landis since last evening.”

Myrtie tapped the dustpan against the rim of the wastepaper basket. “Stanley went right back up there as soon as he and Doc came back from delivering Elbows and Ned to the train. He’ll give us an accounting soon enough.”

“I won’t draw a full breath until I see my husband,” Mrs. Blair said, looking faint.

One of the ladies fetched a chair and another got her a glass of water. “Sometimes I hate this place,” Mrs. Blair said, sitting down heavily. “What am I going to do if Landis doesn’t come home?”

Myrtie studied her. “Honey,” she said, “are you . . . ?”

Mrs. Blair rested her hand on the swell of her belly, shaking her head like she wished she could deny the truth. “Yes.”

“Just you remember, whatever happens, we’ll help you,” Myrtie said. “Ever since Doc Corbett came, seems like we womenfolk have pulled together and gotten closer. Don’t you all think so?”

Heads nodded in agreement. “Seems like she kindly showed us the way,” one woman said.

“Well, she is kin,” Tillie said. “That counts for something.”

“Mommy!” Timmy yelled from the window where he’d been tacking the cardboard patch into place. “I see Daddy. He’s a-walking down the hill with a bunch of other men.”

Mrs. Blair’s face crumpled. “Praise the Lord.”

Timmy flung open the door, and the women rushed out. Lilly forced a calmness she didn’t feel. She put the bird back on his perch and fastened the wire door, then stepped outside and joined the throng of people waiting for Mr. James to speak.

The gray dust had settled ankle deep. Way on up the road, she could see the devastation of Number 4. The tall mountain no longer soared proudly into the sky. It stood bowed and humbled, a shadow of its once-majestic self.

Mr. James cleared his throat, and everyone quieted. “I’ve totted the markers,” he said. “There’s three men unaccounted for. Jim Harper, Bob Hall—”

A woman screamed. A young man pushed through the crowd. “Bob Hall, you said? Stanley, are you sure it’s Dad?”

“Folks, all I can go by is the numbers on the markers. I got number 12, Jim; number 3, Bob; and number 10, Joe Repp. This doesn’t mean anything, really. It doesn’t mean a thing until we locate them.”

“If they’re in there, they got a coffin lined with coal,” Turnip Tippen said. “Hey, look. There’s Jim now.”

A man weaved his way toward them. He was short and stout—decidedly not Tern Still, Lilly saw. But he might bring word of the others. If he was safe, mightn’t Tern be also—and Bob? She prayed it was so.

A couple of men rushed to bring the straggler to Mr. James.

“Jim, we’re missing two others,” he said. “Have you any knowledge of the whereabouts of Bob Hall or Joe Repp?”

“I brung Bob out,” he said. “I’m sorry to say, he’s dead. His body’s at the base of the mountain, on the back side.”

People gasped. Someone moaned.

“And Joe Repp?”

“I don’t know anything about him. It was just Bob and me. We almost made it, but . . . I’m sorry, Mrs. Hall. I tried. I really did.”

Fear closed its ice-cold fist around Lilly’s heart. She backed up the few steps to the porch and sat down. She tried to imagine Tern eternally absent. It had seemed that he was meant for her; else why had all the puzzle pieces that made up her life finally fitted so perfectly together? He’d saved her in so many ways, first from his own father and then from herself. If not for him, she’d be marrying a man she didn’t truly love because she believed it was the sensible thing to do. Was she to live her life bereft? She pinched her lips between her thumb and index finger to keep from crying out.
God, give me strength,
she silently prayed.

She hadn’t noticed that Jenny Blair was seated beside her until the girl slipped her arm around Lilly’s waist. “He was your beau, wasn’t he?”

“Hmm?”

“That Joe fellow? He was your beau. I’m glad I made him dance with you that night. It would have been terrible if he got killed and you’d never even danced together.”

Lilly pulled Jenny close. “You’re a good girl, Jenny, and a smart one,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Mother always says love will find a way. So you shouldn’t give up hope.”

Jenny was right. In her heart, Lilly felt sure Tern was still alive. Wouldn’t she have felt the connection sever if he had been killed? The best thing she could do was go about her business and let Tern come to her.

The small cabin behind the Jameses’ had been set to rights. She’d go there tonight. He would know where to find her. For now, she needed to examine the man who’d been caught in the explosion. Adrenaline could be masking any number of injuries.

She opened the clinic door and motioned for the man to come inside. Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his back.
You can take a horse to water . . . ,
Lilly thought. She couldn’t force him to accept care. He’d be back if things got bad.

“You need to eat,” Myrtie fretted, piling mashed potatoes and cream gravy on Lilly’s supper plate. “You’re thin as a rail since this dreadful business started.”

Mr. James ate methodically, one forkful after another. He hadn’t said one word since he came in, but he kept giving Lilly looks. She was certain he knew more about Tern Still than he was letting on.

“Sit down and eat with us, Myrtie,” Lilly said.

“I’ve been nibbling,” Myrtie said from the stove. She dropped pieces of floured chicken into a skillet of bubbling lard. “I want to get some things cooked up for the Halls. Poor Lula—she’s a widow now. I’m glad she’s got that grown son to help her.”

She put a lid on the skillet and brought a colander filled with peas to the table. She began to pop them out of their shells with her thumbnail. “What of that Joe fellow, Stanley? Does he have family hereabout? I could fry another chicken.”

Mr. James shoved his plate away and without a word got up. The screen door slammed behind him.

“Forevermore,” Myrtie said. “What’s that about?”

“I expect he’s just tired,” Lilly said. “Tired and grieving.”

Myrtie popped another pea. “Ain’t we all, but people’s got to eat.”

Lilly folded her napkin and placed it beside her plate. “Should I talk to him?”

“I wish you would,” Myrtie said, dabbing her eyes with the corner of her apron. “Maybe he’ll open up to you. Him and Bob have been friends since they was boys, you know.”

Lilly found Mr. James by the garden fence, sharpening a hoe. Cleve chased a toad in and out of the half-runner beans. Each time the toad jumped, he stuck his nose to its backside again.

“Told you that dog’s a hunter,” Mr. James said. He tested the edge of the hoe against his thumb, then filed it some more.

“It’s almost too dark to work in the garden,” Lilly said.

“I know.” He looked toward the house. “It was good of Myrtie to hold supper for us. I should be kinder to her.”

“You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever known, Mr. James. Myrtie understands the strain you’ve been under.”

“At least we got Elbows out,” he said.

“Yes, there’s that to be thankful for.” Lilly toyed with her pearls. She couldn’t be silent a minute longer. “I know about Joe Repp. I think you do also.”

Mr. James laid the head of the hoe over the one spot on the fence that was not covered in abundant morning glory. “I knowed all along that he was not a regular miner—I ain’t the only one with suspicions, sad to say. I warned him he was stirring a hornet’s nest. He should’ve listened.”

“Maybe he did, Mr. James. Maybe he left as soon as Elbows was safe.”

“You might as well hear this straight up, little gal. I think somebody—maybe two somebodys—was laying in wait for him. I don’t believe he had a chance.”

Lilly swayed. She leaned against the wire fence. “Why do you think so?”

“A while ago, when you motioned Jim Harper to come into the clinic, he stuck his hands in his pockets. I noticed he winced and turned his back before he pulled them out. He had burns all over them. Looked like powder burns to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Bob had burns too, only his were worse. His body was burnt on the face and all down the chest. Those fellows set dynamite to blow up Number 4. I’d stake my life on it.”

Mr. James lifted the hoe from the fence and whacked the ground sharply, like he had more corn to plant. “Either Joe—his real name’s Tern, but I expect you knew that. Either Tern Still caught them in the process, or more likely they killed him first and then set the explosion to hide the evidence. They killed two birds with one stone, so to say.”

“Either way, I’ve lost him.”

“It seems to be so,” Mr. James said while hanging the hoe on the fence again. He whistled the dog out of the garden and latched the gate.

Lilly tried again, punctuating her words with pleading. “But it doesn’t make any sense—why would those two men want to hurt Tern? Why would they destroy the mine?”

“They’ve had a belly full,” he said. “Poke a chained bear long enough and he’ll finally rise up against you.”

Mr. James’s face belied his tough facade. He looked at her with such empathy Lilly thought she’d crumble.

“I ain’t saying it’s right. Violence solves nothing, but it’s bound to happen. Sad thing is, Repp or Still, whoever he truly is, was on their side. He wanted to make things better.”

Lilly turned away. She bit her lip hard. A rambling length of morning glory trembled in the warm evening breeze, reaching out to her, searching for safe haven. Its delicate white blossoms glowed in the darkness like little beacons of light. It seemed imperative that she lace the seeking vine in among the other flowers. There, with a final tuck and twist, the vine was secure.

Lilly summoned her resolve. In medical school she’d learned there were times it was best to turn off her emotions and let duty be her guide. “I should go back to the clinic. I don’t remember locking up.”

“Wouldn’t do any good with the window busted. Don’t fret. I’ll get Darrell or Billy to stay there tonight.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Wait right here. Myrtie will want to walk you home.”