The Widows

by Jess Montgomery

  Ada puts up the next pillowcase. Lily glances at the laundry basket. It’s still half-full. Lily puts her bag, which contains her notebook, into which she’s tucked the clipping from Abe, onto the back porch and starts hanging pillowcases alongside Ada.

  They work quietly until finally Ada puts her hands to her hips and gives Lily a long, appraising look. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You have a lot of laundry. And I want to know the truth.”

  “All right. But why?”

  “Justice,” Lily says, but her face burns, as if the truth is trying to reveal itself. Lily wants more than justice. What if she was wrong? What if Harvey Greyson had nothing to do with Eula or Daniel’s death? What if Marvena was wrong and Eula really did fall in love with this boy, but he balked, and this boy really is Eula’s killer, and Daniel found out?

  Suddenly she’s unsure of what to believe except that she will find out what happened to Daniel. To Eula. And Lily wants vengeance. Recklessly, fully, no matter what it takes.

  “I understand your reluctance, perhaps even fear that this could turn dangerous, but—”

  “When isn’t life dangerous?” She glances at Lily’s left foot. “You should know that.”

  “Oh … thank you, thank you for coming—”

  Ada sighs. “I’m not doing this for you.” She waves at the now nearly empty basket. “Finish up. And give me a moment to get my hat.”

  * * *

  A narrow one-story building, just yards from the chute, serves as headquarters for Ross Mining. The building has just three rooms—the pay office where the men collect their scrip, a holding cell, and at the back Luther’s office. In that small room, dim despite a bright day and a large window, for its glass is smeared and gray, Lily sits in a chair across from Luther at his desk. On one teetering stack of papers on the desk sits a coal-oil lamp, its meager light not flickering beyond the messy desktop to the corner where stands one sullen Pinkerton, or over to the unlit coal stove, by which stands another. The chilly office smells of burnt oil and coal dust and alcohol. It seems to Lily that Luther has, whether he realizes it or not, made of his dominion a cavern as dismal and suffocating as any chamber in a coal mine.

  Yet now Luther grins imperiously, as if gazing down from a throne. He leans back in his chair, clasps his hands, lifts them, puts them behind his head. Lily keeps her eyes on his, though she’d rather look at the sweat stains of his armpits.

  “Now, let me get this right, Lily,” he says. “You want me to just let this killer go free?”

  Lily looks at the boy, maybe seventeen, his left eye bruised and swollen shut, his right eye wide. He rubs the fissures where his wrists had been bound. There’s no fear of him running; in addition to the other two Pinks, one stands behind the boy’s chair, another at the door.

  Joanne Moyer, the boardinghouse manager, sits on the edge of a chair near the window, fanning herself. Ever since being introduced to Lily, she’s stared at her with a bemused smile.

  Mrs. Gottschalk sits on the edge of another chair, leaning toward the boy—Franz Hinkle—who is still talking to her quietly in German. She nods, pats his hand, comforting.

  “You heard her translation,” Lily says. She looks up from her notebook, in which she’s been writing down the boy’s statement. “This boy is no killer.”

  All the bewildered boy knew was that just after his arriving in Rossville the pretty young woman at the boardinghouse had asked him, using the few words of German she’d picked up, to go for a walk with her and he’d said yes. He’d escorted her as far as the old Rossville Cemetery and then an automobile pulled up. She willingly got into it and left him standing alone.

  His description of the automobile was useless; Model Ts all look similar, black with small variations in styling from year to year.

  After that, he said through Ada, he walked back to Rossville and the boardinghouse, and there waiting for him in the room he shared with three other men was an envelope with an extra bill of scrip waiting for him.

  The next night, the girl, Eula, wanted him to walk with her again. He almost said no but then remembered the envelope. It was like that, every few nights, until one day she was gone. He was taken to work at another mining company. And then he’d been picked up and returned to Ross Mining day before last, until last night he was picked up by Luther’s men at dinner at the boardinghouse and tossed in the small holding cell.

  “Why should I trust that she’s translating accurately?” Luther asks. Ada’s presence and her ability and willingness to translate had taken him by surprise.

  “She has no stake in doing otherwise,” Lily says. “And as we can see, the boy can’t speak much other than German. Yet I’m supposed to believe he confessed to Eula’s murder last night to a miner named—what did you say his name is, Miss Moyer?”

  A frown ruffles Joanne’s placid brow for just a moment, and then she smiles again. “Eldon McDermott.”

  “Eldon McDermott,” Lily repeats. “Now, that sounds like a man who knows German!” At Lily’s sarcasm, the frown reclaims Joanne’s brow. “And where is Eldon now? Luther, can you tell me that?”

  “How the hell would I know? I don’t keep track of every man’s whereabouts.”

  “I believe I heard someone say this morning that Mr. McDermott had cleared out his room,” Joanne says.

  “How convenient,” Lily says.

  “Don’t matter,” Joanne says. “I recollect this boy leaving those nights with poor Eula.”

  “Oh, you do? Marvena showed me a box that Daniel found in Eula’s room,” Lily says. “A Mrs. See’s candy box. I can imagine this poor boy scraping together the money for the candy, barely. But there was a tiny diamond stuck in the box. Could this boy afford jewelry that held even a tiny diamond? I don’t think so.”

  Luther looks at Joanne. “Daniel found a box in Eula’s room?”

  Joanne looks at Luther, eyes wide. “I—I don’t know what she’s talking about.…”

  Lily says to Ada. “Ask the boy if he ever gave any jewels to Eula.”

  Ada looks at the boy, asks. The young boy’s voice rises, saying something in German that Lily can’t understand, but she gets the essence of it—he’s afraid. Ada shushes him, says something comforting. Then she looks at Lily. “He says he never gave the girl any gifts.”

  Lily looks at Luther. “There you have it. And he can’t have given the girl jewelry, in any case. How would he buy it? It’s not like diamond jewelry is sold for scrip at the company store.”

  Luther sighs. “Well. I was hoping to avoid embarrassing Joanne here, but—” He opens a drawer and pulls out a necklace. He lays the necklace on the desk, and Lily stares at it, unable to keep shock from her expression. This is an elaborate piece with diamonds and sapphires.

  “This was found in the boy’s pocket when my men picked him up,” Luther says triumphantly. “I put it in my drawer for safekeeping. He must have taken it from Eula. Perhaps the necklace is why he killed her.”

  “To sell later? That makes no sense. Where would Eula have gotten it, other than from a man with real money?”

  “Tell her, honey,” Luther says with a snide turn to his voice. The other men snicker, except the boy, who remains bewildered.

  “It was mine,” Joanne says. Her voice is tiny, and she looks shamed. More than that—shaken.

  Lily looks from Joanne to Luther, back to Joanne. Oh. All right. They’d been carrying on an affair, and Luther had given her this necklace. But why should Joanne, Lily thinks, given her occupation, be shamed at an assignation with Luther? Polite society might want to pretend it is shocking, but it is definitely not surprising.

  “Eula stole it from me,” Joanne says. She looks at Lily, defiantly this time. “That’s right. I found her rooting around in my room, and later I discovered my necklace was missing. I—I told Luther about it.”

  “Did you tell Daniel when he came to ask you about Eula? Is that why, as you told Marvena, he left in a huff?”

  Luther s
lams his hands against the desk. “Enough!”

  The room goes still.

  Luther says to Lily, “Why isn’t this good enough for you? You have Eula’s killer. Congratulations. Your first case as sheriff, solved.”

  “No. I have a patsy that you drummed up to take the fall for the Pinkerton that Eula was seeing.” Lily looks at the man guarding the door. He looks down, away. Lily turns her gaze back to Luther. “Maybe I should ask this man. Haul in every single man who works for you, until I get a name out of someone. The name of the Pinkerton who was sleeping with Eula—she wouldn’t have wasted her time with a miner—a boy!—who couldn’t give her what she wanted.”

  Lily shoots Joanne a sharp look. “You of all people in this room can understand Eula. So tell me, Joanne, was it Harvey Grayson she was seeing, the Pink who came to tell Daniel about the imaginary prisoner who got away? You mentioned once that Grayson’s married.”

  “There was a prisoner!” Luther says.

  “Right. Tom Whitcomb. How convenient.”

  “They found my necklace on this miner!” Joanne snaps. But she’s not looking at Lily. She’s glaring at Luther. How odd, Lily thinks. “And the boy confessed last night.”

  “To his friend—a miner who has conveniently disappeared, just like Harvey Grayson has.” Lily turns to Luther. “I’ve been here over half an hour, and it’s never occurred to you to ask how I knew to come for Franz here, how I received word?”

  Luther shrugs.

  Lily gives her brother-in-law a thin smile. “Abe Miller told me last night that I would come here today and collect a Mr. Franz Hinkle.”

  At the mention of Abe Miller’s name, Luther pales. He swallows, rubs his face. “Well, if he said, then there’s no question…”

  Lily shakes her head, looks back at the Pink standing by the door. “This boy is going to walk out of here. You will walk with him to the edge of town. You will put him on a horse, and tell him to go as far as he can, and get out of this county. Out of Ohio.”

  The Pink looks at Luther. When Luther says nothing, the man says, “Boss?”

  Luther ignores him. He’s staring at Lily with concern. “You can’t go up against Abe Miller. You don’t understand—”

  “Oh, but I do. What Abe Miller wants, what George Vogel really wants, is to avoid a confrontation between your men and the miners, so that his operations aren’t disturbed. But we can achieve that without sacrificing an innocent man. What neither Mr. Miller nor Mr. Vogel knows is that Daniel must have found the box while searching Eula’s room. And in that box Marvena discovered a stray diamond that must have come from jewelry. Expensive jewelry that clearly a simple miner couldn’t have bought for Eula. But not from this jewelry. There is no missing diamond in this necklace.”

  For a moment, all eyes turn to the pristine piece sparkling on Luther’s desk.

  Lily goes on. “I know that Abe Miller already found someone to rat out Marvena’s, ah, business. It would not be hard for him to set up a plan to find someone to take the fall for Eula’s murder, someone who can’t defend himself. I’m guessing he thinks if Marvena believes her daughter has been avenged, then she’ll be more likely to fall in line and not stir up trouble. But I’m not willing to accept such an easy answer. I think Eula was consorting with Harvey Grayson, that she got in trouble with him, and that he killed her because he was married and didn’t want trouble. I think Daniel was on to the truth, and that Harvey Grayson set my husband up to be killed before Daniel could come after him.” Her voice is starting to shake, but she forces herself to go on. “Somehow, I will prove this—and find out who helped Harvey!”

  Everyone in Luther’s office is silent, still. Even the boy stops blubbering. Outside, through the window, the sound of another boom resonates across the town.

  Luther looks at Joanne. “You can go now.”

  “But Luther—”

  “Go!”

  Joanne hurries from the room and gives Lily a look: What have you done?

  Then Luther looks at Ada. “Tell the poor son of a bitch what’s going on.”

  Ada talks to the boy, and as he understands he begins to cry again, this time in relief.

  “Boss—” the Pink starts.

  Luther cuts his man off. “You’re going to do what Lily—the sheriff—just ordered. Exactly as she said it. And then if it’s all right with her, take this woman back to her house.”

  Lily looks at Ada. “I will be glad to take you—”

  Ada smiles. “Oh, please, no fuss over me.” She looks at the German boy, says something more, and he nods eagerly. Ada looks back at Lily. “He will take me a bit of the way down Kinship Road before getting on his way. I’ll walk the rest. It will be good to stretch my bones.”

  A few minutes later, only Luther and Lily are left in his office.

  “Tell me where Harvey Grayson is. I want him for questioning.”

  Luther sighs. “I already told you, I don’t know where the Pinkerton company reassigned him. I doubt they would tell you. Or if he even is with the company anymore. And you don’t have hard evidence. Look, sure, there was talk about Harvey Grayson sniffing around the girl. I warned him off. Knew Daniel would be angry, but…” Luther shrugs. “A man wants what he wants, and the girl was a whore, anyway.”

  Lily stares at Luther. “Dammit, Daniel was your brother! And I know that Eula might have been your own niece.”

  Luther grins coldly. “Half brother. Half niece, if that.”

  And there it all is, in that word “half.” All that Luther hated about Daniel over the years.

  Luther shakes his head, opens a drawer, pulls out a flask, slams the drawer shut. “You’d better be careful. You just had me let the boy go, and if Miller wanted him arrested for the murder of Eula that’s not too bright.”

  “Oh, it’s quite brilliant,” Lily says.

  Luther frowns.

  “Because the only reason Abe wanted that was to appease Marvena. He and George Vogel have some notion that if she thought you’d found poor Eula’s killer, brought him to justice, she’d be grateful enough to simmer down on riling up the men for unionization. Mr. Vogel doesn’t want the county stirred with trouble; it’s bad for his business. But as far as Marvena will know, because this is what I will tell her, you just let Eula’s killer go because you’d rather have another miner working for you than justice for that poor girl’s murder.”

  “What? No, you…” Luther groans. “Are you trying to get us both killed?”

  “No. Because there’s another way to appease Marvena, to keep a battle from erupting so Mr. Vogel is satisfied.”

  Luther takes a sip and then a long drink from his flask.

  “Allow for talk of unionization,” Lily says. “I’ve already ensured that Marvena can hold a talk about the merits of unionization. And I’ve already decided to come out in support.”

  “You think it’s that easy? The men signed on knowing it’s a non-union shop.”

  “Yellow dog contracts,” she says. His eyebrows lift with surprise at her knowing the term—contracts under which even talk of unionizing means the men will lose their jobs, their company homes, their pay, which is in company scrip, and somehow be expected to pay back the company store with American dollars, not scrip.

  “You think you understand, but you don’t! The coal we’re finding here of late has higher sulfur. That makes it less desirable, but I found some old records about Mine Number Nine—”

  “The Widowmaker,” Lily says.

  “Call it that if you want, but there’s a rich vein of anthracite under that hill.” He gestures at a stack of old maps and papers on his desk. “It’s why we tried before—”

  “And seven men died because of it. Including my father—”

  Suddenly Luther pounds his fist on the desk, making the papers jump. “I know that, Lily! I know that!”

  Luther wearily rubs his hands over his face. “I’m trying, Lily, to find veins of better coal. I’m having the men use stronger supports this tim
e—”

  “All for more money for yourself, for your company?”

  “Where do you think these men will find work if Ross Mining goes out of business, huh? I’ve already got Wessex Corporation breathing down my neck to buy me out. They’ve already done that with several companies in the area. Sure, many of their holdings have unions, but they also are having trouble turning profits. How does going out of business help anyone? If we can turn a better profit, I can increase pay, lower prices in the store, bring in a better doctor—”

  “Oh, Luther, do you really believe you’ll do all that? Or will you—” Lily starts to continue just want more, but she is struck by an unusual expression on Luther’s face: sincerity. From his point of view, he’s trying to do the right thing by reopening the Widowmaker.

  “We can agree a new boom is something we all want. But what about safety?”

  “My managers tell me that the accident last fall was a fluke with the lightning, that two lollygagged at the back, and that the miners did a shoddy job building the supports—”

  “Because you rushed! It was in the newspaper; the reopening took only a few weeks.”

  “Yes. They needed to hurry! I don’t want to have to sell to Wessex. My father trusted me with the family business. But I won’t go broke keeping it in the Ross family name!”

  “If there’s another accident, you’ll end up with another Blair Mountain, union or not.”

  At the reference, Luther draws back, pales. Then he takes a deep breath, shakes his head. “That didn’t turn out very well for the miners, though, did it? And I won’t let it come to that. I can always hire in more men to keep control—”

  “Doesn’t that keep adding up? Why not give your workers some control over their lives?”

  “And where would that stop? Besides, these men are uneducated.” He shrugs, dismissing the men who work for him as if they aren’t fully human. “They’re like children. Half of them don’t even speak English—you just saw that! These men don’t know enough to make decisions to take care of themselves. They need firm management—”