The Song Weaver

by BJ Hoff

  Kate felt like whimpering too. Fear froze her in the moment, closing off her sense of hearing and sight, leaving her unable to function. How many times had she waited like this? Not here, not in the warmth of her own home, but at the opening jaws of the mine that at any hour of the day could steal her husband from her in a dozen different ways. How many prayers had she uttered for his safekeeping, for his life? How many more times would she go through this same soul-numbing vigil, this insane death watch that almost certainly could be avoided if only the right people cared enough to fix what was wrong with the mines.

  She couldn’t stand here any longer…she couldn’t. Whipping around she went to the baby bed and gently scooped up Gracie. After bundling the baby in multiple layers of outerwear and blankets, she grabbed her own coat, and, telling Figaro to stay, hurried from the house.

  “There’s Mum,” Maggie said to Ray, watching her mother make her way through the crowd on the other side of the pithead as she hurried toward them with Gracie against her shoulder.

  Kate was obviously out of breath when she reached them. “What’s happened? Have you heard?”

  “Nothing yet,” said Maggie, noting her mother’s ashen skin and the tremble of her lower lip. “But we’ve been here only a few minutes.”

  “Ray?” Their mother frowned when she saw him. “Why aren’t you in school?”

  Ray’s reply was to cross in front of Maggie, pull back the blanket to grin at Gracie, and touch a finger to her nose.

  “I’ll take her, Mum,” Maggie said, reaching for Gracie.

  But Ray had already lifted the baby from his mother’s arms. Holding Gracie against his shoulder, he patted her gently on the back. “Jonathan said I could come,” he finally replied.

  Not for the first time, Maggie was struck by her teenaged brother’s unusual tenderness with Gracie. None of the boys she remembered from her own teen years, with the possible exception of Kenny, would have given a baby a second glance, much less the unabashed affection Ray lavished on his tiny niece.

  The sound of three bells, a signal to hoist the cage, brought silence to the waiting crowd. “Someone’s coming up,” Maggie’s mother said quietly. “That’s good.”

  Maggie held her breath. At the first sign of the miners emerging from the cage, she pushed forward as far as she could, only to see that her da wasn’t among the other men. She turned to look at her mother, whose taut expression had tightened still more as she searched for her husband and didn’t find him.

  The men who did come up were immediately besieged by the crowd and plied with questions. “What happened? Is anyone hurt? How many? Is there a fire? An explosion? How bad is it?”

  Maggie took the baby from Ray and gave him a meaningful look. “Why don’t you go see what you can find out for Mum?” she said.

  He nodded and wedged his way through the crowd toward the miners who had emerged from the cage.

  A moment later he stepped back a little to make room for Judson Tallman, who pushed through the waiting family members and began to question the miners.

  Gracie had been so quiet that Maggie was surprised when she parted her blankets and saw that she was wide awake. She dropped a kiss on her nose, and the baby wriggled and waved her tiny fists. “You’re such a good girl,” she murmured, kissing her again.

  Her arms trembled as she held the baby against her heart. Her throat felt swollen with fear. There was no getting used to these mine alarms, though there was nothing new about them. She couldn’t count the scares she’d had while growing up. More times than not, her da had walked out entirely unscathed.

  But not always.

  It wasn’t only her father she feared for. She had neighbors, family friends, and former schoolmates in the bowels of that mountain. The people of Skingle Creek were so connected to each other that what affected one family affected them all.

  Tallman turned toward the crowd just then, raising his hands to get their attention. Not a tall man, he nevertheless emanated a sense of strength and authority with his powerful shoulders and heavy, low-set brows over dark eyes.

  “All right, folks. Here’s what we know. There was a bump, but not a bad one. So far as we can tell, nobody’s badly hurt. A couple of men with some sprains and bruises maybe. There was a small fire, but it’s already out. We’ll be bringing all the men up, a few at a time, and we’ll know more then. Now move back apiece and give them room.”

  “A bump” was what the miners called it when a pillar exploded. With tons of rock resting on them, if the energy wasn’t concentrated exactly as it needed to be, the pillars could explode. One of the worst fires at the mine had happened from a bad bump that occurred when Maggie was still a baby. Her father still had a burn scar on his back from that explosion.

  Another cage came up just then, but as they watched the men step out, there was still no sign of Matthew MacAuley. At the same time a murmur passed through the crowd as Dr. Sally Gordon pulled up in her buggy a few feet away and stepped out, her medical case in hand.

  “What’s Dr. Gordon doing here?” her mother asked. “Where’s Dr. Woodbridge?”

  Mary Sheehy, standing close by, turned and answered. “He and his wife went to Pittsburgh last week to visit their daughter and her family. My man said they won’t be back until the end of the month.”

  The doctor nodded to Maggie and Kate as she passed by but hurried on to the pithead.

  “Those men aren’t going to let a woman doctor lay a hand on them.”

  Maggie put a hand on her arm. “Mum, if they’re hurt—”

  “Then they’ll just be hurt. And you know good and well your da is no exception.” Maggie did know and prayed that Da wouldn’t need a doctor’s attention—that none of the men would, for that matter.

  Poor Dr. Gordon. Maggie hated to see her feelings hurt, but these men were so stubborn they’d limp off like injured dogs before they’d let a woman doctor help them.

  Ray had made his way back to them and now to his mother. “Mum, don’t be scared now, it’s not bad. But Terry Maguire said Da is hurt some.”

  Kate MacAuley closed her eyes in resignation. “Hurt how?”

  “He wasn’t sure. But he said Da wouldn’t come up until all the other men were out.”

  Maggie watched her mother’s mouth go hard, her eyes flare. “He can be such a fool! He thinks he’s a daddy to them all.”

  “It’s just his way, Mum,” said Maggie, trying to soothe her. “You know how he is about his men.”

  “Oh, I know how he is all right! Never mind that he’ll be the death of me yet for worrying about him, thanks to his devilish stubbornness. I should just go on home and leave him on his own.”

  As if she would. Maggie had heard this kind of tirade before when her mother was vexed. She knew it was simply her way of blowing off steam to keep from flying apart.

  “If the man would ever…just once…think of himself first.” Her mother’s grumbling was barely audible. “Just once. But no, he’s got to be the hero, always the one who stays.”

  Another cage came up just then, and this time Matthew MacAuley was in it.

  Her anger clearly forgotten, Kate broke through the lines, ignoring the deputy and two of the mine bosses who had been stationed at the edge of the crowd to keep control.

  Maggie had to crane her neck to see past the wide shoulders and considerable height of Sheila O’Brien directly in front of her, but she caught a clear enough glimpse of her father stepping out of the cage, his right arm hanging limply and crookedly at his side.

  Chapter Sixteen

  In Need of a Helping Hand

  He cannot heal who has not suffered much,

  For only Sorrow sorrow understands;

  They will not come for healing at our touch

  Who have not seen the scars upon our hands.

  Edwin McNeill Poteat

  The pain knifing up Matthew’s arm was an agony, but not so great that he didn’t see his wife making her way toward him, as well as two of his children w
atching him from the crowd. He felt as though he might pass out at any instant, but that would rattle Kate something fierce. And hadn’t the woman already suffered enough misery on his behalf? So he ground his teeth and steeled himself to stay upright. He even tried to manage a smile for his wife’s benefit. Then Ray and Maggie, wee Gracie in her arms, made a move as if to come to him and he sighed, preparing to be fussed over when what he needed more than anything was a pain powder and a long hot bath.

  Another glance closer up and he saw the tall form of Dr. Gordon making her way through the crowd, her broad features set in resolve, her long, silver-streaked hair blowing in the wind. Clearly a woman on a mission.

  Matthew had no quarrel with Dr. Sally Gordon. Hadn’t she worn herself out spending nearly the entire day—Eva Grace’s last day—doing all she could do to save the girl, and then, when her passing couldn’t be avoided, seeing her through to the end?

  No, he had no ax to grind with the woman doctor, other than the fact that she was a woman doctor. And in spite of the fact that not a miner on the grounds was about to let her touch him, here she came, clearly thinking to ply her trade with the lot of them. Where was their own doctor anyway? Woodbridge might be little more than a hack, but at least he was a man.

  The darkness came at him with a rush then, the blood racing to his head like a river overflowing its banks. The ground swelled up to meet him, blackness engulfed him, and the last thing he saw was Kate running toward him, calling his name.

  Maggie saw her father go down, her mother run toward him, followed by Dr. Gordon. She stopped, putting a hand to her brother’s arm to restrain him. She wanted to go to her parents, but she had Gracie in her arms. The smell of smoke was stronger here. In spite of Tallman’s assurances, there was no telling what might be going on inside the mine. Any member of a miner’s family knew that even a small explosion could be dangerous. It would be foolhardy to expose the baby to that kind of risk.

  Yet seeing Da on the ground, her mother on her knees beside him as the doctor threaded her way through the crowd, she had all she could do to stay put.

  Ray stepped out again, and once more Maggie caught his arm. “We’d best stay here,” she said. “Dr. Gordon needs room to tend to him.”

  Her brother frowned, looking from her to their father. “Ma might need help.”

  Maggie shook her head. “Only the doctor can help, Ray. There’s nothing we can do.”

  When he still looked doubtful, she pressed, “We’ll only be in the way. Let’s wait.”

  He looked from her to their parents, drew a long breath, and shoved his hands into his pockets and stood waiting.

  Matthew MacAuley felt himself swimming up from the bottom of a dark, cold river. Something—driftwood? stones?—weighted his arms, especially his right arm, making it difficult to thrash his way through the water. Pain knifed through his shoulders and up the back of his neck. His head pounded as if someone were pummeling him with one blow after another. And he was cold, bone-freezing cold.

  When he finally reached the surface, he gasped for air, choked, then filled his lungs again and opened his eyes. Kate was on her knees, watching him, while Dr. Gordon perched at his other side, holding a vial of some strong-smelling stuff to his nostrils.

  “Ah, you’re back,” said the doctor. “Good. We’ll get you in the buggy and take you to my office.”

  Dazed, Matthew watched the woman doctor. She seemed to be speaking from a tunnel or the far side of a cave.

  “Home,” Matthew said, struggling past a swollen throat and thick tongue. “Take me home.”

  “Your arm is broken, Mr. MacAuley. I’ll need to set it, and I’m not going to do it here on this cold ground in the wind.”

  “Not…broken.”

  “Oh, but it is.”

  “Where’s…Doc Woodbridge?”

  “My understanding is that he’s in Pittsburgh visiting family.”

  Gradually Matthew became aware of the other miners gathered around them. “See to the other men,” he said. “If they’ll let you.”

  “The other men don’t need seeing to,” she said shortly. “The foreman said no one was badly hurt but you. Why is that, I wonder. What happened, Mr. MacAuley?”

  Matthew meant to shrug, but the slight movement made him catch his breath with pain. “Just a bump,” he muttered. “Nothing much.”

  “Then how did you break your arm?”

  “It’s not broken, I tell you. Just sprained.”

  The doctor sighed. “I have a medical degree, Mr. MacAuley, and in spite of your poor opinion of me, I know a broken arm when I see one.” She stopped. “I need two of you men to get him into my buggy so I can take him back to my office. Now, please!”

  Matthew’s eyes wouldn’t focus quite yet, but he saw well enough the look that passed between Zeb Yorkey and Pat Callahan. Neither man made a move.

  Matthew turned to look at his wife. “Get someone to take me home, Kate.”

  The doctor interrupted before Kate could reply. “I can set your arm at your house if that’s what you want, Mr. MacAuley. But you’d be better off at my office. I have everything I need there, including something to dull the pain.”

  “I don’t drink spirits,” Matthew growled. “Curse of my people.”

  Dr. Gordon’s lip curled. “I was referring to laudanum.”

  “Kate—”

  But for one of the few times in their married life, Kate paid him no heed. Getting to her feet, she faced Yorkey and Callahan. “Would you men please help my husband into the doctor’s buggy? I’d appreciate it,” she said.

  The two men quickly replaced their caps, and with a furtive glance at Matthew, moved in on him, supporting him on each side to help him up.

  So shot with pain and so weak that even anger wouldn’t rise in him, Matthew couldn’t quite manage a glare in Kate’s direction. When she continued to ignore him, he drew an exaggerated sigh and, with the help of Yorkey and Callahan, limped away from the crowd toward the doctor’s buggy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Proud and the Proud

  I was too ambitious in my deed,

  And thought to distance all men in success,

  Till God came on me, marked the place, and said,

  “Ill-doer, henceforth keep within this line,

  Attempting less than others”—and I stand

  And work among Christ’s little ones, content.

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  Kate resented Matthew’s insistence that she stay in the waiting room while Dr. Gordon set his arm. Any other time he’d want her with him, but heaven forbid she might see a sign of weakness in him. Ah, no, of course not. He could be so insufferably proud at times. Proud and stubborn. He knew very well she wanted to stay with him in the examining room, but rather than allow her to see his pain up close, he banished her to the other side of the wall.

  Well, she’d tell him soon enough what she thought of his foolishness. Once he was feeling better, she’d give him an earful all right.

  And Dr. Gordon was no better. Telling her to make herself comfortable, that she’d take good care of her husband. Dr. Woodbridge had never shut her out when he tended to Matthew’s injuries.

  Make myself comfortable indeed!

  Finally she paced, tracking from one side of the dimly lit examining room to the other, casting an approving eye on the obvious cleanliness and order of the place. The white curtains were crisply starched, the bench and chairs neatly painted, the floor swept. Even as miffed as she was, she had to admit that she would have been surprised if the doctor’s office hadn’t spoken of order and cleanliness. Dr. Gordon was that kind of a woman, Kate was sure of it.

  From the examining room she could hear the low sounds of voices, mostly Matthew’s, and she wondered how he was behaving. Surely he wouldn’t insult the doctor, and her having been so kind to them throughout Eva Grace’s confinement…and at the end.

  Dr. Gordon had arrived early on the morning of their daughter’s last day,
had stayed and supported and comforted throughout the hours to help bring Gracie safely into the world, all the while fighting furiously to save Eva Grace’s life. Clearly the doctor had been near the point of exhaustion herself by the end.

  Kate would never forget how tears had tracked the physician’s face when Eva Grace finally passed over. She had looked as sorrowful as if she’d lost a member of her own family. That day had given Kate—and hopefully Matthew as well—full and certain proof that Dr. Sally Gordon was not just a medical doctor with a strong professional conscience, but also was a good woman of great compassion.

  This memory alone was enough to banish her pique with the doctor—if not with her husband.

  Remember what she did for us, Matthew. What she did for our daughter…and mind your tongue. Mind it well.

  “If you’ll take the pain medication, Mr. MacAuley, this won’t hurt as much.”

  Matthew shook his head. “I’ve had broken bones before. Just set it and be done with it.”

  The doctor shot him a look of uncertainty but proceeded. “How did it happen?”

  Matthew shrugged and was again reminded that he had a broken arm. “A piece of slab fell when the pillar exploded. I pushed one of the men out of the way before it hit him, but my back went out at the same time, and I came down on my arm. I heard the bone break. I know the sound.”

  She nodded. “If you’ll just remove your shirt, please.”

  Matthew felt blood rush to his face. He wanted nothing so much as to bolt from the room and out the door. All this fuss by a woman who wasn’t even his wife. He reckoned he’d have been better off to let Kate come in with him.