by Jane Shoup
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Shef. You got your job—”
“It’s fine,” Jeremy interrupted. “Not like you wouldn’t do it for me.”
Liam conceded with a sigh that turned into another cough. “All right, then.” He rose, scooted from the seam, and walked away slowly. When Jeremy finished the area he was working on, he also scooted from the seam. As he stood and stretched, he watched the small orange and yellow lights floating toward him from the tunnel ahead. They were the lights in other miners’ hats as they came in his direction, finished for the day.
He moved his stiff neck from side to side, then went back in to finish. He collected the loose coal and put it in the bin, then began setting up for one more blast. He’d set it off just before he left, and excavate in the morning. He bored holes and was almost finished setting the explosives when he heard the familiar clopping of mine mules and the squeak of the wheels of a loaded car on rails.
“Whatcha say, Shef?” called Timmy Wayne, the driver of the mule team. Timmy, a lanky, dark-haired boy of almost fourteen with an easy, infectious smile, walked ahead of the animals, leading them with the heavy load.
“Not much,” Shef replied as he set the last explosive.
“Nope.” Timmy laughed. “Never do.” His face was so coal blackened that his teeth, which probably weren’t all that white, shone bright in the low light.
Shef crawled back out of the hole to help dump their bin of coal into the car.
“I saw Liam. He looks done in.”
“It’s that time of day,” Jeremy replied noncommittally.
“You ready to call it a day?”
“I was ready when I got here.”
Timmy grinned. “I know whatcha mean. So, uh, whatcha doin’ tonight?” The boy had a fascination with the life of single men. Coming from a near-destitute family of seven, he found it hard to imagine having no one but yourself to tend to. It was highly appealing, to his way of thinking. “Is this the night you go to the resternt?”
“I go on Fridays. Only decent meal I have all week.”
“I ain’t had nothing but cabbage and potatoes for a durn week, and I ain’t never been to no resternt.”
“Maybe I’ll take you with me for your birthday. It’s coming up, isn’t it?”
“First of October.”
Jeremy nodded. “’Kay, then. We’ll go.”
“You mean it?”
“’Course I mean it.”
“That’s right nice of you, Shef. What kind of food they have there?”
“All kinds. Beefsteak, fried chicken, ham steak. Whatever you want.”
“Beefsteak. That’s what I’d pick.”
“How about the Friday after your birthday then?”
“Well, all righty, then,” Timmy said excitedly. “If you’re sure you mean it. I’d like that.”
“I don’t say what I don’t mean.”
Timmy nodded. “I’d best get on, I guess. See you tomorrow, Shef.”
“See you tomorrow.”
The boy walked around to the front of the mules and tugged on the reins of the lead mule. “Getty up, Stubborn. Let’s finish.”
“His name really Stubborn?” Jeremy asked as they started off.
“It’s what I call him,” Timmy said over his shoulder.
“’Cause he’s a sight more stubborn than the rest. Might have to get the mule lady down here to talk some sense into him.”
Jeremy waited until boy and mule were a good enough distance away before he gathered his tools and then lit the fuse for the explosives. Afterwards, he walked away calmly, knowing precisely how long he had before it blew. Like all miners, he knew the right amount of explosives to use for the task at hand. Tomorrow, he’d extract the coal he’d loosened from the blast. As he walked toward the lift, the light from his hat picked up points of coal in the walls, making them glisten and shine like shards of diamonds.
He’d made it all the way to the cage when the blast happened. The men waiting for the elevator didn’t bat an eye at the explosion; they were inured to a continual cacophony. Nor did anyone think it odd to see smoke from the blast, eerie and shimmering, floating toward them like a phantom mass. The elevator arrived, the weary men trudged on, and the bell was rung, signaling the hoister to raise the cage.
Once in motion, it moved surprisingly fast, the black walls flying by for more than eleven hundred feet before light assailed their senses. On this trip, twelve men emerged, each black faced, with slumped shoulders and a dour expression, squinting at the light, many of them still carrying formidable-looking tools—sledges, tamping bars, and picks. It was an everyday occurrence and yet they were a fearful sight to the uninitiated.
Chapter Nine
On Friday evening, Jeremy went into town, as was customary. He ate at Wiley’s and then picked up whatever supplies he needed from the general store for the week. He came into town on Saturday afternoons too, but that was the day he gambled and drank a good deal of his pay away. He had sense enough to get the week’s supplies before that.
Tonight’s dinner special had been shepherd’s pie, and it had been as good as usual. His usual fare during the week was beans or potatoes fried in lard with a chunk of whatever meat he’d purchased for the week. He cooked cabbage a lot, not because he liked it especially, but it was easy and it lasted. He always picked up a couple of loaves of bread from the store and ate it with most meals. Sometimes fried bacon between slices of bread was his morning and evening meal. Food wasn’t something he thought about a lot; it was just what kept him going.
He left the store with his supplies in hand, setting the bell mounted over the door to tinkling, and then held the door for a woman pushing an infant in a perambulator. He started to walk on, but stopped when he noticed the lady he’d seen leaving the boarding house not quite a week ago. She was across the street, coming out of the office of T. Emmett Rice, attorney at law, with the Blue sisters. Her children followed hand in hand, but the little girl paused long enough for him to notice her stern look of disapproval. He tipped his hat to her, which did not lighten her disdain the slightest bit. It was the first thing that had amused him in a long time.
For some reason, he watched the small group walk away. There was something fascinating about the lady. The way she looked—the way she moved. He blew out a slow breath and decided maybe he’d have a drink, after all. He went first to the livery to check on his horse, and because Joseph Schultz would keep an eye on the goods he’d purchased.
In the saloon, the lighting was dim enough that he had to pause once he was in the door, to allow his eyes to adjust. “Well, hello, handsome,” a young woman with light hair and painted red lips said as she sashayed toward him in barely any clothing. “You interested in being entertained?”
“No, thank you, miss,” he said with exaggerated politeness as he started toward the highly polished bar. Behind it were large mirrors, framed in the same dark cherrywood as the bar.
“Oh, come on,” she said, grabbing at his arm as he passed.
He turned back to her. “How old are you?”
She shimmied her body back and forth. “How old do I look?”
He considered and then shrugged. “Fifteen. Sixteen.”
Her smile vanished and she huffed in insult. “Shows what you know. I’m eighteen.”
She’d made an attempt to look older with face paint, but in fact it made her look younger. “Like I said before, no thank you, miss.”
Her eyes narrowed and her face flushed. “Why? Don’t you like girls?”
“I like girls just fine. But I only go to bed with women.”
She muttered a foul word under her breath as she walked on.
He chose a spot in the center of the bar and ordered a whiskey. As he drank it, he thought about the pretty lady with the Blue sisters. It was strange that he’d seen her twice now, and the sight of her had affected him both times. There was just something about her.
“Hey there, Shef,” a woman said f
rom his side.
He knew Marie’s voice before he looked at her. He stopped himself from uttering a sigh, but he felt every bit as uncomfortable at seeing her as he usually did. She was a beautiful woman with dark hair and strangely light eyes—but she’d been Jenny’s friend. He could never be with her. “Hello, Marie.” A moment of uncomfortable silence fell between them because it was impossible for either of them to separate memories of childhood from what they’d become.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Same as always. You?”
She shrugged one shoulder dramatically. “Well enough, I guess. ’Course, you know me. I’m always hoping someone will show up and rescue me.”
It was hard not to shake his head, because he’d tried to talk her out of working in the saloon after she’d laid the choice at his feet. He downed his drink instead, then looked at the bartender and raised his glass, getting a nod in return. The comment still agitated him. “I’m pretty sure the men who come in here are looking for something other than to rescue someone,” he said without looking at her.
“Guess I’d know that, wouldn’t I?” she replied snappishly. Another silence fell between them and she stepped closer to him. “C’mon, Shef. Don’t be like that.”
“I am what I am,” he said as the bartender filled his glass.
“You want to maybe go upstairs?” she asked quietly when Sam, the bartender, had moved on.
Jeremy shook his head, again avoiding eye contact.
She sighed softly, almost inaudibly. “Do you think you’ll ever forget about when we were younger?”
“You want something?” Sam asked Marie as he passed by.
She nodded. “Pour me one.”
He did and then walked on.
“There’s things I wish I could forget,” Jeremy replied. He downed the drink and then pulled out the coins to pay, placing them on the counter before he turned to her. “Sometimes I wish I could forget every damn bit of it. Just wipe it away like it never happened. I’d just be a blank slate.”
“Why would you want that?”
“Be easier.”
“You’d forget the happy things, too? The good things?”
“If I had to, to forget it all? Yeah.”
“Betcha I could make you forget. For a while, anyway.”
He shook his head slowly. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t be with her, and she didn’t give up easily.
“Why? Why can’t we just—”
He turned to her, his eyes blazing. “Because. Because I may want to forget, but I can’t.”
“Your sister’s gone. She’s been gone a long time.”
He faced front, tempted to have another drink. Or several. This wasn’t a discussion worth having.
She sighed heavily. “Fine. If that’s how you feel.”
If that’s how he felt? He’d only said so a hundred times.
“Take care,” she said.
He nodded, but didn’t look at her. “You too.”
“I always do,” she replied before walking away, looking as miserable as he felt.
“Another?” the bartender asked.
He was about to refuse when he saw T. Emmett Rice reflected in the mirror in front of him, entering the saloon. On impulse, Jeremy turned and motioned him over, getting a look of surprise in return. Still, the portly older man with an almost cherubic face came toward him without hesitation. “Yeah, one more,” Jeremy said, “and what does T. Emmett Rice drink?”
“Ale or port, usually.”
“Shef,” Emmett said as he reached him. “How are you?”
“I’m buying. What’ll you have?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Shef looked at the bartender, who was looking at Emmett doubtfully. “Whiskey?” he asked dolefully.
“I occasionally enjoy a glass of whiskey, Sam,” Emmett stated.
The bartender shrugged and reached for a glass, then filled both men’s glasses.
Jeremy waited for Sam to leave before he said, “I was curious.”
“What about?”
“The lady who left your office not long ago. The one with the Blue sisters.”
Emmett nodded. “Nice lady. Mrs. Carter. Used to be Greenway. She’s Lionel Greenway’s daughter.”
Jeremy heard the word missus with disappointment. “The hermit?”
“The one and only.”
“Why’s she here now?”
“She’s recently widowed.”
Jeremy’s interest was piqued again. “Oh?”
“She’s come here to move into her father’s place.” Emmett picked up his glass and sipped. His mustache wriggled. “Why do you ask?”
Jeremy picked up his glass. “No reason. Just curious.”
“Well, she’s lovely. Just as lovely and sweet as Lionel always said.”
“You hadn’t met her before?”
Emmett shook his head. “They were estranged, which Lionel blamed himself for. I don’t know the whole story on that. When she got news he died, she wanted to come for the funeral, but her husband wouldn’t allow it. Not the nicest of men from what I gather. Fact is, he up and died without leaving her much of anything.” He sipped the whiskey again, and there was another wriggle of his mustache.
Jeremy noticed Marie watching him from across the room. He pointedly faced front and took a drink.
“That place,” Emmett commented, “the Greenway cottage, has gotten mighty run-down since Lionel’s been gone. You know the place? Beyond the Blue farm?”
Jeremy looked at him. “I know it.”
Emmett nodded. “She’s got a lot of fixing up to do. Not sure how skilled she is at that sort of thing.”
Jeremy’s pulse picked up its pace.
“Then again,” Emmett said, “she’s young. I guess she’s got time. And she is determined to protect those young’uns of hers. Cute things. That kind of determination in a woman gets things done. Saw it in my niece Emmy Medlin. You know her?”
He nodded. “Know who she is.”
“She’s not really my niece; I just think of her that way. Her uncle was my closest friend. And Lionel was a friend, too, so I’ll probably start thinking of Lizzie as a niece. I’d like to see her and those little ones happy here.”
Jeremy nodded, his mind churning. He finished his drink.
“You going to get a game going?” Emmett asked.
“Not unless you want to play.”
Emmett chuckled. “I’m smart enough to know better. No, I only play in real friendly games with fellas who play as poorly as I do. That way, it’s fun.” He picked up his glass and swirled the amber liquid, enjoying the scent that rose. It smelled a good deal better than it tasted. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s got you curious about Lizzie?”
Jeremy couldn’t quite frame an answer.
“No, that’s okay,” Emmett said quickly, waving off the question. “Sometimes there’s just . . . that certain interest. It’s like it’s in the veins or maybe the core of a man. Though, of course, most men don’t like to wax that poetic. Me, I don’t mind. Folks expect a certain amount of waxing from me.”
Jeremy fished out the money for the drinks and placed it on the counter. “Good seeing you.”
Emmett nodded. “Thanks for the drink.”
Which he’d barely touched. Jeremy reached for his hat. “See you.”
“Yeah. See you, Shef.”
Once Jeremy was gone, Marie walked directly to Emmett. “Hey, Emmett.”
“Afternoon, Miss Marie.”
“What were you and Shef talking about?” she asked, trying way too hard to sound casual.
“Aw, this and that. Nothing important.”
“Not really like him to be friendly,” she prodded.
He had to concede the point. “He saw a lady and asked after her, is all.”
“What lady?” she asked, dropping all pretense of casualness.
“A new lady in town. Daughter of the hermit. You remember a man na
me of Lionel Greenway?”
She folded her arms, clearly perturbed. “Yeah. I remember him.”
“His daughter recently came to town to live. Her and her kids.”
She drew back. “She has children?”
He nodded. “Two of ’em. A little boy who looks just like her, and a girl. She’s eight and he’s just turned four.”
“Why was Shef asking about her?”
He shrugged. “He was just asking. He was curious about her.”
“What does she look like?”
The questioning was getting to be uncomfortable. “She’s pretty,” he admitted, toning down the description more than he might have. “Fairish hair.”
She turned and walked away with a scowl on her face. If she had any desire to keep her feelings to herself, she was doing a poor job of it.
“So how’s that whiskey?” the bartender asked with a smirk.
Emmett gave him a look. “Best I’ve had all week.”
Sam laughed.
Marie walked back to her room and slammed the door shut. Leaning against the wall, she folded her arms tightly and fought back tears. “Damn you, Shef,” she said brokenly. If only Jenny hadn’t died, everything would have been different. But once she did, Jeremy began asking questions and more questions. She should have never admitted the truth, but he kept pushing. It was like he already knew Jen had been with Ted the day before she died.
Little by little, he pulled the truth from her and then he blamed her for knowing and not telling him. But Jenny had been her best friend and Jen hadn’t wanted her brother to know. Marie closed her eyes with a sigh and remembered.
“Jeremy is stubborn and he’s wrong about Ted,” Jenny had confided as the two of them walked arm in arm from school on what turned out to be their last day together. “But he’ll never admit it. Not till we’re married and happy. Not for a year or two, at least.”
“You’re gonna have to tell your family you’re getting married,” Marie replied.
“But not until I graduate. The day after. That’s when we’re going to announce it,” Jenny said happily.
“You sure he means it?” Marie asked worriedly. It wasn’t that she wanted to hurt Jen, but Ted was no less flirty or obnoxious than he’d ever been. Oh, if Jenny was around, he pretended to be polite and proper, but the second she wasn’t, he was the same ol’ loudmouth, cocky rooster he’d always been.