by Sally Laity
The deep pink flowers of swamp milkweed caught her attention next. The plant’s juice could be used to treat any number of ailments, so Rosa gathered a handful and added it to the bag.
As she worked, recollections of her last trip into the forest teased her mind, along with the encounter with handsome miner Ken Roberts. The mines were operating today, so he probably wouldn’t be hiking in the hills. But the thought held more disappointment than relief. Part of her wished she had stayed longer and gotten to know him a little when the opportunity had presented itself. But her sensible side knew she had made the wiser choice. To leave and return home.
Coming to a drier area, Rosalind sank to the ground and propped herself up from behind with her arms, stretching her legs out in front as she stared up at the fluffy clouds.
What was he truly like? Surely a man as friendly and pleasant as he would have a wife or someone to whom he was betrothed. After all, he did mention his family. Possibly he was married, perhaps with a gaggle of children. But if so, why would he even suggest the two of them might meet again? Unless, of course, he had no principles and was as dangerous and uncouth as her people considered the miners.
Oh well, she had no answers to her own questions. She was wasting time and had yet to pick the berries she’d come for. She gave a sharp whistle, Maloof came running, and the two of them headed for the berry patch.
Halfway there, a rustle from the grove off to her right made the animal’s ears perk up. Rosa cautiously eyed the trees. Surely Maloof would defend her if a wild creature should crash out of the growth. Or so, at least, she hoped.
But a square, dark-skinned hand parted the branches.
Nicholas Habib’s leering smile greeted her. “Ah. The lovely Rosalind. You have been gone from the camp a long time.”
He watched me leave? He followed me? Rosa swallowed the uneasy lump forming in her throat. “Nicholas,” she managed. “What brings you way up here?”
“I wanted to make sure nothing had happened to you. That you were safe.”
Safe! I felt perfectly safe until your swarthy face appeared. “Well, as you can see, you had no cause to worry. Maloof is looking out for me.”
“Yes. Maloof the brave one.” Eyes black as an onyx peered down at the dog in derision and got a low growl in return. “Now I will look after you,” he said, ignoring the animal as his gaze made a leisurely journey up and down her body.
“Thank you, but as you can see, that is not necessary. We are on our way home, Maloof and I. We have only to pick a few berries before we return. We are to meet Grandfather at the berry patch,” she added, hoping the lie sounded convincing. “No doubt he is already there.”
Habib seemed to be considering his options. Then, his expression darkened and he cocked his head. “Well, then, I shall go back without you. This time.”
Rosalind gave a curt nod. “I appreciate your concern. Good day, Nicholas.” She wondered if she would ever find solace in the forest again.
❧
Ken dreaded going home at quitting time and facing Ma after Timmy’s first day on the job. His own shift ended at three o’clock—sometimes sooner, if his crew filled their required number of coal cars ahead of schedule. But work in the breaker often went on until six-thirty or later, and he knew Tim would really be dragging when the last whistle finally blew.
A quick shower in the shiftin’ shack took off a few layers of filth. The rest he’d deal with in a hot bath at home. Ken changed back into his regular clothes, then went to check on his brother. When he peered inside the breaker, however, the coating of coal dust covering the young workers made it impossible to discern one from the other. Even the handkerchiefs tied over their noses to keep the dust out of their nostrils looked dingy and black.
But one lad did appear to be working a little more gingerly than the rest. Noting the blood mixed in with the sulfur muck on the kid’s hands, Ken sensed that one was Tim. His heart crimped, and he closed the door.
Ma would be getting out the goose grease tonight, for sure.
By the end of the first week on the job, his brother’s hands were a swollen, sorry mess, the fingers cracked open and oozing blood and pus—a full-blown case of “red tips.”
“Why on earth won’t the supervisor allow the boys to wear gloves?” The pain of a mother’s heart clouded Ma’s eyes as she gently bathed Tim’s hands in warm water in preparation for the nightly coating of goose grease ointment.
Hannah, fussing with getting supper on the table, looked over and winced, then resumed setting out the utensils.
“Come on, Ma,” Ken chided. “It’s a breaker boy’s sense of touch that helps him to work quickly, picking culm out of the coal while it tumbles down the chute.”
She grimaced and shook her head. “What sense of touch can there be in hands that look like these?”
Tim puffed out his chest. “Aw, quit talkin’ about me like I ain’t even here. It ain’t so bad, Ma. I’m no baby. Ken says his hands got just like this when he started working there. Mine’ll toughen up just like his did. You’ll see.”
“All the same,” she insisted, “I worry all the time you’re at the mine. Both of you. It’s bad enough, fearing explosions and cave-ins and flooding tunnels. We all know firsthand about losing loved ones that way, don’t we? Now I have to worry that in a split second Timmy could lose his balance and fall into the chutes. I don’t want to be like poor Mrs. Polinski, trying to get over having my son smothered under tons of rock and coal. Or like Mrs. Stanitis. She nearly went crazy after little Jimmy fell right into the crusher.”
Ken moved in back of her and placed his hands on her shoulders, kneading the tense muscles. “Working at the mine is dangerous, Ma. We all know that. But it’s what we do. We have to trust God to look out for us and keep us safe. And someday, when it’s His time, maybe He’ll provide us with some other kind of work.”
She slowly filled her lungs. Reaching up, she covered one of Ken’s hands with her palm and leaned her head to rest on it. “I know,” she said softly. “I pray every day for the Lord to watch over you. For strength to trust you both in His care. But what if—”
Bending down, Ken hugged her from behind. “Let’s not think about what-ifs, Ma. He took care of us yesterday and today. We’ll leave tomorrow in His hands, too.”
She expelled a heavy sigh and nodded.
“Supper’s on,” Hannah said with forced cheer. “I hope everyone’s hungry.”
❧
The chirping of crickets and other night insects blended into the sound of guitars from one of the house wagons as Rosalind and Philip strolled the perimeter of the camp. A half-moon and a sprinkling of early stars grew brighter against the fading sky. She captured a lightning bug in her cupped hands, then opened them and let it fly free.
“It made me so angry,” she said quietly, “that Nicholas would follow me up the mountain as he did. The forest was my special place, all of it. Now I feel I will have to be looking over my shoulder every time Grandmother sends me there.”
Her cousin tipped his dark head and met her gaze. “Perhaps he was concerned, as he said.”
“Ha.” Rosa let out a huff. “You did not see his face. The way he stares at me. His eyes undress me.” She plucked a blade of high grass and toyed with it in her fingers, bending, twisting, then breaking it in two. “I am afraid of him.”
“You may have good reason,” Philip admitted after some hesitation. “I have seen him do a few things myself.”
Rosa blanched. “What kind of things?”
“Like purposely causing pain to some of the animals when he thought no one would see. It was as if he enjoyed it and wanted to watch them suffer.”
“How despicable.”
He didn’t answer, but glanced in the direction of Nicholas’s shack, where golden lamplight glowed from the small windows. “I am sorry I have to leave here to go to work every day,” he finally said. “I wish I could stay close and see that no harm comes to you.”
“Bu
t you cannot. I do have Maloof and Grandfather Azar to protect me.”
“Just be careful,” Philip warned. “Never let Nicholas Habib see you walk away from the camp by yourself.”
Feeling a sudden chill, Rosa shivered.
He slipped an arm around her and hugged her. “You are cold, Cousin. I will take you home.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence. Rosa cast a troubled glance at Habib’s cabin as they neared it, then as quickly directed her gaze elsewhere. She couldn’t fathom how any man could enjoy causing a defenseless creature to suffer.
But one thing she did know. . .she would go out of her way to keep him from catching her alone again.
❧
“Are you sure there’s nothing else that needs doing?” Ken asked his mother. “I replaced the broken glass in the cellar window and patched the hole in the screen door, like you wanted. The garden’s hoed; the picked coal’s been dumped in the bin. Do you have any other jobs for me?”
She gave him a suspicious look. “Not that I can think of. I’m surprised you were able to finish so quickly.”
“Guess I thought that if I worked fast enough, there’d be time to go hiking in the woods.”
“That’s what I figured. Here’s a couple sandwiches from last night’s roast, in case you get hungry.” She handed him a sack. “And an apple, too.”
“Thanks, Ma. You know me too well.” Ken gave her a quick hug. Then he went to the parlor to retrieve his Bible, tucked it under his arm, and headed for the door.
After spending many boyhood years tramping through the woods every chance he got, all of the area within a ten- or twelve-mile radius of home was as familiar to Ken as his backyard. Today he planned to follow an old Indian trail some miles away to a quiet place he frequented, where he could read his Bible and pray without interruption.
Ma wasn’t the only one worried about Tim and all the hazards surrounding him. . .and the kid’s hands were taking overly long to heal. Still, Ken couldn’t help but feel proud of his brother’s attitude and his bravery. In true breaker boy fashion, Timmy toughed it out without complaint. He hadn’t even disclosed whatever initiation the older boys put him through. He just climbed the hill every morning, head high, and did his job, anticipating next week and his first pay envelope.
A cardinal swooped past Ken, drawing him out of his musings. The bird landed high in the trees ahead, its bright feathers a gentle reminder of the gypsy girl he’d encountered last Saturday.
Rosalind Gilbran had been so timid, Ken doubted she’d return to the grove where they’d met. . .at least, not this soon. But even if they didn’t run into each other for a long time, he’d always remember her soft voice, her chocolate-brown eyes, and how beautiful she looked in the peaceful setting of the forest. He breathed a prayer, just as he’d done every night since then, that God would bless her and surround her with His love.
At last he reached the shady glen and the old fallen tree he considered his reading spot—far enough away from roads and houses that no sounds of civilization intruded. There wasn’t even a brook to distract him. Just other wonders of God’s creation and an endless quiet broken only by the wind and the sounds of nature.
Along the length of the big hollow log, untold seasons of fallen leaves padded the ground. Ken lowered himself to the natural cushion and leaned back against the weathered bark. Then he bowed his head and poured out his heart to God, emptying it of the praises and burdens he’d been carrying all week.
Completely oblivious to time and its passing, he opened his Bible and feasted on its treasures until his eyelids grew heavy, then he rested his head against the log and closed his eyes, completely relaxed.
The snap of a twig startled him. Ken bolted upright.
Not three yards from him, Rosalind Gilbran caught her breath, looking every bit as surprised as he. She wore a skirt of emerald green, with a gathered white blouse. As before, she toted a cloth bag over her shoulder. But her glorious soft curls had no covering today, only a dark green ribbon tied at the crown.
Ken recovered first and lumbered to his feet. “Well, hello. . . again.”
“I–I did not know you would be here,” she said breathlessly. “This is not the same place as before.”
“It’s my favorite spot in all the woods. I come here to read.” To prove the truth of his words, he raised the Bible aloft.
With a shy smile, she took a small book out of her skirt pocket. “I find many quiet places to read.”
“Then we have something else in common, besides enjoying the woods.”
“So it would seem.”
Unaccountably nervous all of a sudden, Ken rambled on. “So, if you need to know where to catch the best fish, how to find the good swimming holes, or just plain want to enjoy a panoramic view of Wyoming Valley, I’m the man to ask.”
She smiled and looked away.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Ken cleared his throat. “Say, I don’t suppose you’re hungry. I brought along some sandwiches, and you’re welcome to join me. . .unless you’re in a hurry.”
She studied him momentarily in that cautious way of hers, then acquiesced. “I have no need to hurry.”
“Then, may I offer you a seat, Miss Gilbran? The best in the house.” With a flourish, he gestured toward the leafy ground.
After a slight hesitation, she took the spot he indicated. “I am called Rosa,” she said with an almost smile, then lowered her lashes.
Ken forcibly diverted his gaze from the stunning vision she made and sat a modest distance away before handing her one of the sandwiches Ma had prepared. “I hope you like roast beef.”
“Yes. Thank you, Mr.—”
“Ken,” he cut in.
Rosalind nodded, then began unwrapping the waxed paper.
“I, uh, always like to say a prayer before I eat. Do you mind? I can make it a silent one in that case.”
“I do not mind a prayer.” She bowed her head and closed her eyes.
❧
Rosalind could not have been more surprised over having stumbled once again upon Ken Roberts. In an effort to get away from the camp without being seen by Nicholas Habib, she had taken an entirely different route into the forest, one hidden from view of his shack. It took her far away from the little stream and the berry patch she’d visited so often. Encountering the fair-haired miner here in this shady glen put her in a mild state of shock. She didn’t even hear Ken’s words as he prayed—but the silence when he finished did penetrate her thoughts. She opened her eyes and bit into her sandwich.
“Out collecting herbs again?” he asked casually, eyeing the cloth bag.
“Yes. Whenever I am not out with Grandfather Azar, my grandmother likes me to find different plants for medicine. She taught me where to find them.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know a lot about that myself, except when it comes to the nuisance stuff like poison ivy, poison sumac, and the like. We get most of our medicines from the company store or the doctor.”
Rosalind liked the sound of his voice. A lot. And she found his eyes particularly fascinating, being so different from the dark brown so common among her people. It was hard not to stare into the light gray depths when he talked. . .yet she knew she should not be so bold. She dragged her gaze away and focused on another bite of her sandwich instead.
“What kind of books do you like?” Ken asked casually.
Amazingly at ease with this man who somehow seemed more than just a stranger, Rosa answered with candor. “The one I brought is poetry. I like the beautiful words. Sometimes I try to write my own poems, but of course they are not as good. My grandfather has many books to sell. He likes me to read to him and Grandmother at night, to help them understand English.” Astounded that she was babbling, she paused to catch her breath. “What is your book?”
“This?” Ken held it up. “My Bible. It has some poetry, too, called psalms. They’re filled with lots of beautiful words about God. He’s a friend of mine.�
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Rosa nearly choked. “God is your friend?” she asked in disbelief. “That is not possible. God is too far away to be a friend to anyone. Too. . .important.” Toying with a fold of her skirt, she shrugged. “What is so loving about taking parents away from a child? I do not even remember my mother, and my father’s memory fades more with each day. That does not seem like something a friendly God would allow.”
But the miner didn’t seem at all offended by her remarks. He merely smiled and spoke in the most gentle of tones. “I have no answers for hard questions like those. Many people suffer much heartache and sadness in this life. My father, too, is gone. He and my older brother died in the mines, leaving the rest of my family to face the hardship of life without them. But when I turned to God for comfort and started reading about Him in the Bible, I discovered how much He loves all of us and that His heart is touched by our grief. That helped me to deal with things.”
He leafed through the pages until he came to a particular passage. “Look here, in the Gospel of John.” He moved a bit closer so she could follow along as he read a few lines underlined in ink. “It says, ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ It’s only one verse out of many that tell us about God’s love.
“It says in another place that before we are even born, He knows our name. And He counts the hairs of our head. More proof of His love, His concern for us.”
Rosa frowned in puzzlement. “I will have to think about that for awhile.”
“That’s easy enough to do in a place like this,” Ken said, glancing around them. “All these great trees He made, the beautiful streams and waterfalls, the wild creatures. He gave us the sun and stars to light our way, the rain and wind to keep us cool. Even the plants and herbs to heal us when we’re sick. Everything God made has a purpose and beauty of its own and shows His love. He wants us to enjoy His creation. To want to know Him more.”
Rosa considered that concept while they finished the sandwiches and shared the apple Ken halved, chatting about lighter things as they did so. She appreciated the easy way he talked about his family and his work, yet there seemed no real need to keep a constant thread of conversation going. Even the silences between them were comfortable ones.