Coal Camp Girl

by Lois Lenski

  Mama began to cry and Grandma put her arms around her.

  “They’ll get the men out,” said Grandma. “Oh, how many times I’ve been through this kind of thing before! Each time, I think I can never take it again, but each time, God gives me the strength I need. Don’t lose heart, Mary Kate. Walter will come out safe. Keep your faith—that will help.”

  Tina knew Grandma was right, so she stopped crying too. They all sat at the window and watched cars go down the hill toward the mine. It was still raining hard.

  About five o’clock Jeff came home with news.

  “They’re going to get them out!” he cried excitedly. “There’s lots of people there. They’ve got pumps running to pump the water out. Seven mine inspectors came and went in with the two foremen to hunt for another way for the men to come out. The main hallway is completely blocked. Karl Krupa, Hilda’s father, who was laid off six months ago, says he knows how to get them out. He was section foreman in there for fifteen years. He’s taking a bunch of men in to try to find it.”

  “Have they heard from the men?” asked Mama. “Are they still alive?”

  “They haven’t heard anything yet,” said Jeff. “But a man told me they are going to bore a hole down to them from the top of the mountain, for food and a telephone wire. They think they know about where the men are. They’re waiting now for a bulldozer to come to cut a road through the trees and bushes to the top.”

  “Oh, that’ll be too slow,” said Mama. “It’ll be too late.”

  About seven o’clock Grandpa came back. Mama met him at the door.

  “Have they heard from the men?” she asked. “Are they still alive?”

  “The Mine Superintendent says he’s sure they are,” said Grandpa. “He said he won’t call it a disaster because he feels sure the men are alive and unhurt. He said the dispatcher was in contact with the motor crew and the mine foreman just before the power went off, and all the men in the mine were reported to be at the face. That’s farther in and higher up than the point of the break—where the water came in. They’ve pumped the water out, but it’s left behind a river of jelly-like sludge that’s hard to get through.”

  “How long will it take?” asked Mama.

  “The Mine Superintendent said that rescue is still twenty-four hours away, at least,” said Grandpa.

  “He’ll be there all night,” said Mama, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Waiting and doing nothing is hardest of all,” said Grandma.

  “There’s nothing any of us can do,” said Grandpa. “Everything is being done that can be done. Chick and Jack are down there helping. I must go back.” He took the sandwiches and coffee Mama made and left.

  That night no one wanted to go to bed. The children fell asleep in their chairs, so Mama tucked them in bed. Lights were on in all the company houses, and cars kept coming and going. Toward morning Mama and Grandma lay down to get some rest.

  In the morning Grandpa came back. The news was just the same, everything possible was being done. No message had come from the men, but it was believed they were safe. The rain slackened and that made the rescue work easier.

  Tina felt it was the longest day she had ever lived through. Jeff and Grandpa stayed at the mine, coming home only for food. Mama and Celia decided to do a big washing, so Grandma helped. Neighbors stopped in, equally tense and worried, asking questions and making predictions. Ronnie kept asking, “When is Daddy coming home?”

  Tina sat in a chair by the side window and watched. She wanted to be the first one to see Daddy when he came. She wanted to run to meet him. “There won’t be any treat this time,” she said. “I’ll let Daddy eat my treat while he’s waiting to be dug out.”

  Grandma smiled.

  Another night passed and another day came. Before breakfast, while it was still dark, Mrs. Bryant came in and said she was going to the mine. Mama put on her coat and scarf, and told the children to get their wraps. “I’ve waited long enough,” she said. “I’m going down there too. Jeff and Tina, you come along. If anything’s happened to Daddy, we want to be there.”

  Everything was different and strange at Linden Number 3. Cars were parked all around the mine buildings and a row of ambulances stood waiting. People stood around talking and waiting outside and inside the mine buildings. Nobody seemed to know anything. Jeff went off with Cliff Crouse and Sammy Blagg, but Tina stayed with her mother.

  “I couldn’t stand it to stay at home any longer,” said Mrs. Bryant.

  “Something’s bound to happen today,” said Mama, “and I want to be here to know the worst—or the best.” She wiped her eyes and tried to smile.

  Inside the waiting room next to the lamp house, there was a fire in a coal stove. A row of Mapleton Boy Scouts with stretchers sat on a bench waiting in case they were needed in rescue.

  “Twenty-four lamps have been checked out,” the lamp man kept telling people who came up. “So we know there are twenty-four men missing.”

  Tina felt tired, so she leaned against Mama’s shoulder. She must have fallen asleep, for suddenly she was wakened. Mama had jumped up and she and Mrs. Bryant were rushing toward the mine office. A messenger from the mine had just gone in. Newspaper reporters crowded close, and after a short time, the general manager of the mine came out.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, “the workers have been located and all twenty-four are in good physical condition!”

  The reporters crowded closer to get details.

  “Karl Krupa, a former foreman, took a small crew of nine into an abandoned section of the mine in search of a by-pass. They found it and reached the men, who are now on their way out.”

  A cheer went up from reporters and bystanders, as everybody hurried to the mine portal. Tina held tightly to Mama’s hand, as they all crowded close. They waited a long time. Then they saw the men coming.

  Dirty and hungry, but uninjured, the happy group of trapped miners walked into the cold light of dawn and sniffed the fresh air.

  “Gimme a cigarette!” begged Ben Hurley, the first man out. “Two days since I had a smoke!”

  “Coffee, a cup of coffee!” shouted Henry Bryant, as he fell into his wife’s waiting arms.

  Then Tina saw Daddy. She knew him even if his face was black. He looked up into the sky and said for all to hear, “I never thought I’d see the light of day again. Thank the good Lord.”

  The next minute Tina was in his arms and Mama too. Mama took his black face between her two hands and kissed him in front of everybody.

  All around there was a great hubbub. Waiting women took black-faced men in their arms and cried tears of relief and happiness. Newsmen came close and took pictures. Karl Krupa was a hero for bringing the men out. The mine chief from Charleston, who had spent two days and nights in rescue work without rest, was another. And Willie Johnson, a colored miner, who had told jokes and sung songs to the imprisoned men, was a third. They were all given a warm and loving welcome.

  The rain was over and a warm sun came out, as Daddy and Mama and Tina and Jeff walked back up the hill, followed by Grandpa.

  Daddy gave his bucket to Tina.

  “Don’t you want your treat, Teeny girl?” he asked.

  “But I thought you ate it all up,” said Tina, “when you had to go hungry so long.”

  “No,” said Daddy, “I saved it for you.”

  Tina opened the bucket and ate the stale, mine-soaked sandwich she found there.

  “It’s the best treat I ever tasted!” she said.

  Chapter Eight

  SUMMER

  “Oh, Gramp! I can’t believe it!” said Tina, hugging him tightly. “I can have Bright Eyes for my very own?”

  Grandpa Ferris nodded.

  “That stiff leg will keep him from ever being a good mine pony,” said Grandpa. “He can never work again.”

  Tina put her arm around the pony’s neck.

  “Do you hear that, Bright Eyes?” she whispered. “You are my pony now. You don’t have to go in the mi
ne any more.”

  Tina was feeling stronger now than she had been all winter. Jeff and Uncle Jack built a shed for Bright Eyes in the backyard. By day the pony grazed in the yard, eating the grass and weeds. All the children in the street came to have rides. Bright Eyes was gentle and let them do as they pleased with him.

  After the rains were over, spring came quickly to the coal camp. The mine company trucks hauled all the slate away from the houses on the mountain road. The grass turned green and the trees put out fresh new leaves. People began planting flower beds and gardens. Daddy took down the coal heater and moved it out to the back porch.

  One day when the children came home from school, Mama met them at the door with buckets in her hand. “Go get water,” she said.

  Tina hated wash-day, but she and Jeff went to the spigot in Mrs. Murphy’s yard, crossing three other yards to get there. Queenie went along, sniffing at their heels. Mrs. Murphy was getting ready to wash tomorrow too, so Peggy was at the spigot, filling her buckets. Peggy did not hurry, so Jeff and Tina stood patiently and waited.

  Queenie began to growl. She saw the Murphys’ cat and went after it. The cat arched its back and spat, then turned and ran. Cat and dog disappeared under the Murphys’ house.

  “You take that dog of yours out of our yard!” screamed Peggy.

  Jeff called Queenie, but she did not come. Peggy left her buckets, took a stick and threw it under the house, trying to hit the dog.

  “Come now, quick!” said Jeff. “Let’s get our water and go. Queenie can take care of herself.”

  When Peggy came back to the spigot, Jeff and Tina were gone. They had learned how to avoid a quarrel with Peggy.

  Before they went to school next day, the wash water was on the stove in a Number 4 tub heating. Washing was an all-day job for both Mama and Celia. When Tina came home that afternoon, Mama’s clotheslines were full of clothes, and so was a long one of Mrs. Bryant’s next door. Mama was scrubbing the back porch and steps with lye water to make them white and clean.

  “Run and see if the clothes are dry, Tina,” called Mama.

  But Tina had other things on her mind. Hilda Krupa and cousin Dede had come home with her to help fix up Tina’s summer playhouse. The little coal shed out by the front fence had been emptied of coal, so the girls decided to clean it up.

  They brought buckets of water and scrubbed and scrubbed. It took a long time to get the coal dust out. Then Tina brought a hammer and nailed pieces of red cloth up at the little window for curtains. The girls brought in two old chairs, a broken-down couch and a table for furniture. Dede put old bottles and broken dishes on the table and Tina brought a can of old coffee grounds that Mama had saved for her. Hilda poured water on them to make “play coffee.”

  Suddenly a loud rapping was heard at the coal shed door. The girls opened it, and there stood Jeff with Virgil Tucker on his back.

  “Give us a sandwich!” begged the boys. “We’re hungry!”

  Cousin Trig came running up, with Cliff Crouse on his back. “Give us something to eat!” the boys cried.

  “Go away! Go away!” Hilda came out with the broom and chased. The boys went galloping away, with Dede and Tina at their heels. Then the girls came back to rest. “Those mean old boys!” they said.

  From the house Tina brought the big old rag doll that Grandma had made for her when she was little. It was named Annabelle. Tina was making a bed for the doll when she heard the whistle of the afternoon train. Who—o—o—o! Who—o—o—o!

  “Tina! Tina!” called Mama. “Come, help get the clothes in quick! The train is coming.”

  The girls ran out to help as Celia and Mama rushed to take the clothes off the lines, so they would not get covered with cinders. Mrs. Bryant came out and helped too.

  Choo—choo—choo! The long train moved slowly through the valley, puffing smoke and scattering cinders as it went. Tina and Hilda and Dede grabbed armfuls of dry clothes and ran with them to the back porch. They stood on the back porch and waved to the engineer, who waved back.

  When the excitement was over, the girls ran to the playhouse, where a surprise met their eyes. Everything was upset. Chairs and table were turned over, dishes and bottles were spilled. Only the red curtains were still in place. Tina could hardly believe her eyes.

  “It was Peggy Murphy, I bet!” said Hilda.

  “No, it was those boys,” said Dede.

  “Where’s my doll? Where’s Annabelle?” asked Tina.

  There was no sign of the doll in the playhouse. The girls ran out to look. The boys were nowhere to be seen. They ran over to the Murphys and saw Peggy up on the porch roof.

  “What you doin’, Peggy?” asked Tina.

  “Gettin’ my poor cat down,” said Peggy. “That mean old dog Queenie chased her up here last night, and she’s afraid to climb down.”

  “Peggy! Peg Murphy!” called Mrs. Murphy from the window. “You come right down off that roof before you fall and break your neck!”

  It was clear that Peggy knew nothing of the damage in the playhouse, so the girls came back again. There in the bushes beside the coal shed they found Annabelle. Tina looked the doll over. She was dirty and her clothes were torn.

  “Let’s play she’s dead and have a funeral for her,” said Tina.

  “Oh, that’ll be fun,” said Dede.

  They found an old cardboard box and filled it with rags. They put the doll in and closed it. They picked wild flowers and stuck them on the box with pins. They dug a hole, put the box in and covered it with dirt. They sang hymns and put flowers on Annabelle’s grave.

  After the funeral, Tina brought Bright Eyes out from her shed, and they rode the pony round and round the yard.

  “Where’d you get that pony?” asked Peggy Murphy, coming up.

  “Gramp gave him to me,” said Tina.

  “He’s just an old wore-out mine pony,” said Peggy. “He’s no good or your gramp would a sold him for three hundred dollars.”

  “He’s good enough for me,” said Tina. She slapped the reins and trotted on. Hilda, running behind, shouted back, “You’re just jealous, Peggy Murphy, because you can’t have a ride!”

  “Dede!” called Mama from the porch. “It’s time for you to go home. Aunt Effie will be looking for you.”

  Dede turned to Tina. “Let’s dig Annabelle up first.”

  Tina jumped off Bright Eyes, took a shovel and dug. The girls shook the dirt off the doll, fixed the furniture in the playhouse and put the doll to bed. Then they came out and closed the door tight.

  “I’ll get a lock and lock it,” said Tina, “to keep those bad boys out.”

  It was wonderful not to have to go to school any more. School was out now, and the children were enjoying the freedom of summer.

  One day when Tina went on an errand to the company store, she rode Bright Eyes. All the children along the way begged for rides, but she said she had to hurry home. As she came past the Tuckers’ house, Virgil came out with Jeff.

  “Give us a ride!” begged Virgil.

  “No,” said Tina. “You boys tore up my playhouse.”

  “We’ll do it again if you don’t let us ride your pony!” said Jeff.

  Tina shook her head. She slapped Bright Eyes on the back and went bouncing down the street. Looking back, she watched the boys start off in the opposite direction on their bicycles. Queenie was following them.

  “I wonder where they are going,” she said to herself.

  She went to the store and did her errand. She rode on home and soon forgot about the boys, for Hilda Krupa was waiting for her. The little Hurley girls, Betty and Barbara, were there too.

  “Let’s go down to the creek,” said Hilda. “I’m hot. Let’s go wading.”

  “Oh, the creek’s dirty and our mamas don’t want us to get wet,” said Tina.

  “But they’re not washing coal today,” said Barbara. “The mine’s been closed for two days. The water will be clean.”

  The chance was too good to miss. The g
irls ran down across the back lot.

  Arbutus Creek ran in a deep gully behind the row of houses not far from the railroad track. At Linden Number 3, they pumped water out of the mine, used it to wash coal at the tipple, then dumped it into Arbutus Creek. So the beautiful wild flowers that once grew there had died, and the banks were covered with black slimy mud. On days when the mine did not operate, in a single evening, the water, fed by live springs, would clear up. The children liked to play in the creek on Saturdays and other days when the company did not run coal at the mine.

  The water looked clean and cool, so the girls were soon wading. The June sun shone hot and bright on their backs.

  “You push me in and wet me,” said Hilda to Tina, “and then I’ll pull you in!”

  Tina laughed. “I’ll blame you if Mama scolds me.”

  Oh, what fun it was to splash and jump in the creek. The girls threw water on each other and got soaking wet. Even though the water looked clean, the bed of the creek was thick with coal sediment, so the girls came out black. They looked at each other in dismay.

  “You’re black as coal,” said Tina to Hilda.

  “You look like a coal miner,” said Hilda to Tina.

  “We all look like coal miners,” said Betty and Barbara.

  The sky clouded over and a summer storm came up. It began to rain and the wind began to blow. The girls ran back to the Wilson house as fast as they could go. Now they were wetter than ever.

  “You look like drowned rats,” said Mama, laughing. “I’ve got some bath water ready.”

  Hilda and the Hurley girls ran on home, while Tina took a bath.

  Supper was ready and Daddy was waiting. Mama went out on the back porch and called Jeff, but he did not come.

  “Where did Jeff go?” she asked Tina.