May nodded. "Well now, you really do have to come stay with us. Otherwise, Tonio would never forgive us. Once we get you settled and rested, we can check at the Bunker. They may know something about your husband. But don't get your hopes up. Lately, with the trouble brewing, miners have been transitory creatures. Coming and going and showing up irregularly for their shifts. Here, let me carry one of those for you." May grabbed one of Angelina's bags. "It's a fair walk to the house."
May's home turned out to be a modest house located on Pine Street between two undistinguished neighbors. After the walk through town and up the hill, Angelina vowed that she had never felt more relief at the sight of a dwelling. Hipped roof. Second story bay window above an inset porch. Gabled ells at front and side—so very quaint and welcoming.
"Be it ever so humble," May said as she led the way inside and set Angelina's bags down. "This way. Let me get you something to eat. You must be famished."
May's kitchen was as warm and homey as one would expect from the street view of her house. She put a pot of coffee on to boil then set out a plate of muffins and sliced breads, fresh butter and jam. Angelina found that she had an appetite she thought she'd lost.
May watched her eat. "You can stay in Tonio's room until we find that husband of yours. Tonio won't mind. I have half a notion he'll be itching to get to the Hole and his room up in Burke. Town isn't a safe place for the likes of him right now anyway. There are those that would like to use his talents for extreme measures." May frowned.
Angelina felt too tired and overwhelmed to ask what May meant. They made small talk until Angelina finished eating, then May showed her upstairs to a small bedroom. "You just lie down and have yourself a good rest. There'll be plenty of time to go looking for your husband when you're up to it."
Angelina thanked her. As May pulled the door closed, Angelina collapsed onto Tonio's bed, disappointed that it smelled only of freshly washed linens, not him. In fact, nothing about the sparse furnishings of the room gave any indication that Tonio had made it home. But it was his, May had said so, which gave Angelina some comfort as she pulled off her shoes and cuddled up to sleep.
Tonio got off the train in Wallace with the intention of heading straight to the Halls for a shower and meal, but he changed course as he walked down Sixth Street. The town hummed with activity.
It feels good to be back, he thought, striding along.
This town suited him. Its wild, boisterous nature matched his. The town itself aspired to greatness and wealth. What better place for a man with his ambitions? No one thought less of him for being an immigrant, a foreigner. The town's citizens ran the gamut from the whores at the Lux building, to the mining elite in their comfortable two-story homes. It was hard not to fit in with such a varied crowd. But one man would be looking for him. Tonio had no intention of talking to Ed Baker. Better to get something to eat and head out on the last train to Burke before Baker realized Tonio was back.
Tonio turned into the Fuller House. The large, partially stuccoed brick building was the finest hotel in the region and served the best food east of Spokane in its plush dining room. A day of scant rations and heavy work digging out the train engine left him with an almost bottomless appetite. And a desire to satiate it with the best food available. He was the son of a wealthy Italian aristocrat, he was used to the best or so many believed. They didn't know about the modest fare he ate during his years in the monastery, his wartime in Ethiopia, the years he barely survived as a miner in South America, or his years on the railroad crew…
As Tonio walked into the dining room, Colonel Steward Fuller, the colorful owner of the establishment, looked up from his cup of coffee. "Tonio!" he called out. "You're back. How was New York?"
"Excellent, as usual, Colonel."
"You didn't run into any of the Fuller clan while you were back there, did you?"
"Colonel, you know better. I run with a different crowd. A decidedly foreign crowd in Little Italy. We're all blackguards you know. We have nothing to do with the elite of the upper city."
The Colonel smiled. He claimed Mayflower ancestry and great military renown, maintaining that many of his relatives remained in the East as the upper crust of society.
"Well, son, it's good to have you back just the same."
"Have you seen Nokes?" Tonio asked.
"Should be here anytime." The Colonel signaled to a waitress who escorted Tonio to the best table in the house.
Moments later, Nokes walked in and spied him. "Tonio, you son of a bitch, you're back!" he called out as he made his way to the table and seated himself opposite his friend. "How was my hometown?"
Charles "Charley" Nokes was from a wealthy New York family.
"Same as always." Tonio signaled a waitress and they ordered.
The waitress drifted off to the kitchen. Charley's eyes followed the girl until she disappeared. "I must be getting desperate; that girl is definitely not a looker, but she is single. We bachelors have a sorry plight; what we need out here is more women."
"You could go back to New York. I'm sure there are plenty of society beauties out there just dying for your return."
"Go to hell, Tonio. The last thing I'm going to do is go back and rot in some stuffy old bank."
"Tell me what's gone on in my absence, Nokes. Anyone strike it rich?"
Nokes shook his head. "No, but the miners are ready for blood, my boy. Word is they will strike, but first, they'll give the mine owners something to think about."
Several hours later, completely briefed by Nokes, Tonio caught the last train to Burke, determined to stay out of trouble by avoiding the union chiefs, determined to forget Angelina by working night and day in the Hole. He clenched his fist until his knuckles bulged white. He had the nearly uncontrollable urge to blow something up. To have the satisfaction of witnessing the utter surge of power and total destruction, anything to relieve the frustration at not being able to have Angelina. Anything to blot out the thoughts of her with another man, an older man who did not deserve her.
May's husband, Al Hall, turned out to be a thin, kind man. May seemed inordinately fond and proud of him. "Al's an engineer for the railroad." May's smile reflected her love for him.
"You'll get to recognize Al's train when it drives through town soon enough. He's modified his whistle to have a sound all its own and he toots in his own distinctive way." May gave Al a pat on the arm as he drove them to Bunker Hill Mine offices the day after Angelina's arrival.
The mine offices were located in the town of Kellogg, a few miles west of Wallace. The sun shone and a mild breeze blew in from the west as they pulled up to the office. Al waited with the horses as May led the way into the office. May, bold and friendly, quickly found a clerk willing to help them, explained the situation and inquired about Mr. Allessandro.
"Allessandro, you say? Let me check the log book." The clerk disappeared into a back room. When he returned, he brought another man with him, introducing him as his boss.
The man extended his hand. "Mrs. Allessandro, I'm Jacob White, personnel manager for the Bunker. Won't you step into my office where we can talk in private?"
Angelina turned to May.
"Mrs. Allessandro is new to this country, Mr. White. I'm here to look out for her interests and help her understand the situation. I'd like to come in with her."
Mr. White ushered them into his office and shut the door. Angelina's heart pounded in her ears. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Mr. White seemed too somber, gave her the kind of solicitous attention that always comes before bad news. Angelina and May took chairs opposite the desk from Mr. White, who cleared his throat several times before speaking.
"Mrs. Allessandro," the throat clear, "I hate to be the one to deliver bad news when you have evidently just arrived. But you seem unaware of your husband's condition." More throat clearing. "He's dead, ma'am. I'm sorry. I don't know how to break it gently."
"Dead?" The word seemed to echo off the walls. Only in Angelina's worst f
ears had Mr. Allessandro ever been dead.
"Killed in a mining accident?" May's tone issued a challenge.
"No, ma'am. He collapsed on the job. Bad heart, the doctor said. We summoned help immediately. There wasn't anything our doctor, or any doctor, could have done." Mr. White cleared his throat again. "He was owed two weeks' pay. I'm glad you've come to claim it. Had no idea who to send it to. Let me count it out for you."
Sunshine streamed into the tiny one room log cabin that served as the on-site offices of the Jupiter mine as Tonio walked in. Gus Preston, former dairyman, now one of the partners, sat behind a decidedly unofficial-looking desk, a sheaf of tunnel diagrams and supply orders spread in front of him.
"Tonio! Welcome back!"
"Gus, good to see you. Where the heck is Harry?"
Gus shook his head. "In Boise ruling the state. Legislature's in session."
Tonio nodded. He'd have felt a lot better if Harry had been running the mine instead of hanging out with that bunch of yahoos in Boise who made nonsensical laws for the common man. Harry claimed having him in the Legislature gave them some representation.
Harry Scott was a bright, intelligent man with a receding hairline. Reared in an entrepreneurial, politically active household, the huge task of turning a small hand worked hole in the ground into a major mining facility left him undaunted. His vision kept the venture going. Conversely, Gus was a digger, a worker, not a visionary.
"Heard you had a little excitement," Gus said.
Tonio smiled at the understatement. "You could say that."
Gus arched an eyebrow and smiled back. "Lucky no one was killed. Sorry about your uncle. Got everything taken care of, I trust?"
"All closed up and taken care of. What's been up in my absence?"
"We started working a second level, an adit on the Firefly claim." He shuffled through the papers on his desk, finally pulling out a diagram of the new tunnel.
"A new level. We're a big time operation now?" Tonio jested, trying to contain his excitement. "Have we hit ore?"
"Not yet. We've barely begun to tunnel. It's good you're back. We really need an explosives expert right now."
"That reminds me. I brought a present back with me." Tonio stepped outside the door and returned with a large crate.
"Explosives?"
"The best. Got a good deal on them from a railroad friend of mine in Chicago. High grade nitroglycerin with an excellent dope for a nice clean blow. Same stuff the railroad uses to blast mountain tunnels. The rest of the shipment is back in Burke."
"Not too near the tracks, I trust?" Gus teased.
"As far off the tracks as that one-street town allows. Might be a faster way to get our tunnel, though. The amount of dynamite I bought could take away half the hillside." Tonio laughed.
The tiny town of Burke was something of an anomaly as far as towns go. Built in a narrow canyon, there was barely room for the one street and the businesses that lined it. The town existed solely to support the Hecla mine and consisted of those businesses that best suited the Hecla—a refining mill and two train depots. No mine could operate without the use of the railroad to haul ore. Since there had not been room for both a main street and a set of railroad tracks, the railroad tracks ran straight down the middle of the street. The space for the town was so small that when the town merchants heard the whistle, they lifted their awnings to prevent sparks from the passing train from setting them on fire.
"You know," Tonio commented, "We could use a better road up here. I had to haul this crate on my back."
Gus sighed. "Yeah, that and several thousand dollars. And while we're wishing, a better social climate for orderly mine development."
"H.L. still having problems?" Tonio asked.
H.L. Scott was Harry's father and the current county commissioner, as well as a Jupiter partner. He'd made a controversial decision the previous October that seemed to favor the unions. Sentiment ran to two extremes. The mining unions applauded the decision, but many politicians and mine owners were up in arms. Consequently government bureaucracy stalled. Permits were hard to come by. And confident that they had an official on their side, the unions openly rebelled against the owners.
"H.L.'s got his problems. But he'll overcome them. You've heard the latest slogan coming from Baker and the Western Federation of Miners. Every union should have a rifle club."
Tonio nodded in affirmation. All the Jupiter partners were torn. Ed Baker, President of the Federation, was a friend of Harry Scott's. But Harry didn't advocate violence.
Gus tossed Tonio a key. "When you bring up the rest of the dynamite, you'd better lock it up. No use courting trouble. We've always dealt fairly with the union, but when men's tempers flare, you never know what they'll do."
Angelina felt shaky and cold, clammy to the core as Al helped her up into the carriage. Neither May nor Angelina had spoken since leaving the Bunker offices. Angelina was stunned into muteness, unable to decide if this new turn was more blessing or curse or curse or blessing. She would not have to live with an old man she did not love. She was free. Free to do what? She was stranded in a foreign country without enough money to go home. And her parents were far too poor to give her any help. Her head felt like a child's spinning top. She must find Tonio. He would know what to do. May had other ideas.
"Al, drive us directly to the Colonel's. Angelina needs a job and I need help in the kitchen." She turned to Angelina. "You did say you could cook?"
Angelina nodded. "I apprenticed in a very fine household doing mostly baking."
"Baking is good. Keeps a woman in shape. Don't care much for it myself. I could use an assistant. You can make bread?"
"Yes, with a very hard crust, the best kind. And all kinds of desserts. Profiterole and panna cote and—"
"Good." May sounded firm. "Miners down bread like they drink beer—almost too fast to keep up with." Clearly, May had no intention of letting Angelina wallow in pity and despair.
"Do you think I can earn enough money for passage home?"
May gave her an incredulous look. "Home, child? Where there are no men and the convents are full? You don't want to go back there. Here in Idaho we have the vote. Women have rights. You have rights. A woman on her own can do just fine, thank you very much. You'll work with me. We'll win the vote for our sisters all over the country. We'll be heroes, you and me. Famous.
"You can be our poster girl. Oppressed foreign woman comes to the States to an arranged marriage only to be left widowed and on her own. But she overcomes tragedy and becomes a successful businesswoman. You keep dreaming of that, Angelina. Just keep dreaming." May looked like she was dreaming herself.
"Someday that mine will pay off and…" May patted Angelina's hand. "We'll just see if we can't get you in on that deal."
"I need to talk to Tonio." Angelina wanted the feel of his arms around her. The future was open now but would Tonio want her?
"Of course, you do," May said. "But there's time for all that later. When things settle down a bit. Now's not the time to be getting yourself mixed up in the dangers." She winked at Angelina. "Trust old May. Things will work out in the end."
They pulled up in front of the Fuller House. Less than half an hour later, Angelina had a job and went directly to work in the Colonel's kitchen.
When she arrived home at May's, exhausted after baking bread and pies all day, a bag of hard candy waited for her tied with a pink ribbon with a note attached. Her heart leapt. Tonio!
The note was typed and said, "Be my sweet little piece." It was not signed. And it was not from Tonio; this she knew. Tonio didn't play games.
The words, sweet little piece, seemed insulting and made her vaguely uneasy. How did anyone know where she lived? This made her nervous, too, like a bird being stalked by a cat, watched unawares.
She took the candy outside and questioned several children who played in their yard several houses down. No one had seen whoever delivered the candy.
"For your trouble." Angelina
gave it to the children, ruffling their hair. "Do not eat too much at once or you will get sick." She was sick already.
Tonio worked sixteen hours a day in the Hole, as long as the sun lasted, not that it mattered in the depths of the mine. Time was measured there by the cadence of water dripping off dark rock walls. May days were warm and dry in North Idaho. At ground level temperatures reached into the seventies. Beneath the surface in the depths of the mine shafts, the air was cool and moist. Tonio labored with his shirt unbuttoned, hanging open. The humidity caused a man to break a sweat easily. Ground water dripped on him from the walls, mingling with the sweat that poured off him to pool in half circles beneath his arms. By day's end he was completely soaked.
At the end of each day he emerged into the twilight to shed his clothes and bathe in a nearby stream. He camped just outside the entrance to the mine in the shade of a large cedar, which was much more convenient than his room at the boardinghouse in town.
The idea of finding the mother lode and making a fortune consumed Tonio and made a convenient diversion from his tortured thoughts of Angelina. He'd always worked hard, would have worked seven days a week. But Harry Scott, who managed the mine, insisted he take a day off every now and then.
Harry insisted because Tonio's job was more a matter of mind and nerve than of manual labor. The explosives expert had to be alert and well rested to avoid mistakes. A slip on his part could cost lives or at the very least the accidental destruction of a valuable tunnel. Tonio planned where to set the charges, how much dynamite to use, and more often than not, he set the blast off himself. The best dynamiters were those who had learned the craft early in life, while they were still young enough to feel invincible. A skilled dynamiter could not be made of a novice much past the age of twenty-five, an age at which they had matured enough to recognize their own mortality and had become too careful. Fear immobilized the older man.
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