Pit Pony

by Joyce Barkhouse

  “Sure,” said Willie, but his heart felt like lead. He didn’t want to go back, even for one more day. He wondered what his classmates were doing at school. Did they miss him? Who was at the head of the spelling class now?

  Nellie gave him a plate of steaming baked beans, and then Sara burst out, “Guess what, Willie? A man came looking for you. He had a long, white beard like Santa Claus.”

  “And he brought a bag. I thought it might be full of toys, but it was full of vegetables. Turnips and cabbages and parsnips,” Maggie giggled.

  Nellie said, “That’s better than toys. We’ll have a real Christmas dinner now.”

  John laughed. “He said he owed you for some work you did.”

  Willie was astonished. “That must have been Charley! How did he find out where I live?”

  “He knew all about you,” said Sara, jumping up and down with excitement so that her pigtails bounced. “He knew Papa had had a bad accident.”

  “And he knows you’re crazy about horses,” added Maggie. “But he sure was surprised to know you had gone to the pits to work.”

  “He kept saying, ‘Dear me! Dear me!’ over and over,” Sara giggled.

  John shook his head at his excited little sisters. “What’s the mystery, Willie? Was that where you were? At Charley Howe’s farm the night you disappeared?”

  Willie nodded. He didn’t want to talk about it.

  His grandmother seldom interfered, but now she said, in her crackly voice, “That’s enough, bairns. Leave Willie alone. He’s tired.”

  “Two more days of work, then you get Sunday off,” said John. “You can tell us about your adventures then.”

  The next morning before Willie had finished eating his porridge, Simon Ross was at the door. Willie looked up with a frown.

  “You go along. You don’t need to wait for me,” he said, angrily.

  “It’s no bother,” said Simon, grinning at him.

  “I know my way,” Willie insisted.

  “I’ll wait for ya,” said Simon.

  Nellie watched from the kitchen stove. She looked worried, but she didn’t say anything.

  Willie gulped down the last spoonful of his porridge and picked up his piece-can.

  “Bye, Nellie,” he said.

  Outside, a half-moon was still shining in the starry sky. Willie tried to keep away from Simon, but the bigger boy kept brushing up against him. Once, when Willie bent to tie his bootlace, a nudge from behind sent him sprawling on his face.

  “Oops! Sorry!” said Simon. He helped him to his feet as two men passed them talking earnestly to each other. Willie tried to run and catch up with them, but Simon blocked his way.

  All this time they had not said anything to each other. Now Simon said, “Why don’t that red-headed sister of yours have no boyfriends?”

  Willie was silent.

  “I guess she’s too ugly. All them freckles,” said Simon.

  Willie’s face grew hot with anger. He knew why Nellie didn’t have a boyfriend. Rory Maclean was a very strict father. He would hardly ever let Nellie go to a ceilidh, and whenever a lad came to call, he would glower at him under his black brows. The boy would grow more and more uneasy and leave early, not to come back.

  Secretly, Willie was glad. He didn’t want Nellie to get married and leave home. But he couldn’t bear to have Simon say mean things about her.

  “Nellie’s pretty. She could have boyfriends if she wanted,” he muttered.

  “Haw!” mocked Simon. He spat on the ground. “What about the old hag, your grandma? People say she’s a witch. Is that right, Willie?”

  Tears of fury smarted Willie’s eyes. He was afraid if he said anything more, he would blubber. He heard men’s voices behind them and suddenly, he turned and dashed back.

  “Can I walk with you, please?” he begged, breathlessly.

  Both men stopped and peered down at him. They were strangers.

  “Sure. Why not? Why, you’re only a bairn! Are you workin’ in the pit?”

  Willie swallowed a lump in his throat. “I’m eleven years old. I’m workin’ as a trapper. Started yesterday.”

  “Right enough. Come along, then.”

  The men carried on with their conversation. Willie managed to walk between them. He felt safe. He knew as soon as he reached the lamp house Simon wouldn’t bother him with so many men around.

  He saw no more of Simon that day or the next, and then it was Sunday. He went to church in the morning, as always, but as soon as the service was over, he hurried off to the waterfront to look for Gem.

  When he got to the top of the hill and looked down, he saw that the paddock was empty. All the horses were gone. Gem was somewhere in the coal mine.

  Willie walked home slowly, kicking at stones along the way. Even when he got home and was told that his father was improving, he was too sad to say anything. He wouldn’t talk about his wonderful day at the farm with Charley. He moped around until it was time to go to bed.

  The next day when Ned Hall came through the trap, he asked him, “Is it hard to find a horse in a coal mine?”

  “No. It’s easy as pie,” said Ned. “All horses go to the stable when their shift is over. Each stall has the horse’s name posted on a board. They get to know their own stall. Sometimes, I don’t go to the stable with Sparky. I just unhitch him and he trots off by himself. He wants his supper.”

  “Oh,” said Willie. “Sometime ... sometime ... could I go to the stable with you?”

  “Sure. I’ll take you tonight,” said Ned.

  That night, on their way to the stable, Willie told Ned the whole story of how he had made friends with the little Sable Island mare. He told about how he had hidden in Charley’s barn and then had to take Gem back.

  “I guess she’ll never get out of the mine again,” mourned Willie.

  “Not if she makes a good pit pony,” said Ned, cheerfully.

  “What if she doesn’t? What if she can’t be trained to work like Sparky?”

  Ned shook his head sadly.

  “Usually a horse like that has to be destroyed. If it can’t be trained, it probably won’t get sold outside. Nobody wants a kicker or a biter.”

  “Gem ain’t lazy. She wouldn’t ever kick or bite,” said Willie.

  “That’s all right, then,” said Ned, grinning.

  The dimly lighted stables seemed brighter than any other part of the mine. The rough stone walls and pit props had been freshly whitewashed. A strong, horsy smell filled Willie’s nostrils. He might have been in one of the livery stables in town. It was the kind of place he loved.

  Each animal had its own stall and on each overhead beam was a name — Nellie, Clyde, Molly — Willie walked the length of the stable, reading each name aloud, until he came to the very end.

  GEM.

  It really was Gem, with the white blaze on her nose, her long blond mane prettily combed, and her thick, woolly coat beginning to look smooth and neat.

  She looked around at him, showing the whites of her eyes, and giving a whicker of recognition.

  “Gem!” cried Willie. He buried his face in her soft, warm neck.

  For a long time, Willie stayed in the stable with Gem, patting her and talking to her.

  “Ah, you have new shoes, Gem ... very nice ... and you’re goin’ to have a fine new harness. You’ll have a leather cap to wear on your head … and pretty brass studs on your face mask. You’ll look pretty, Gem....”

  He looked around to see Ned watching him.

  “It’s Gem! She’s my horse,” said Willie.

  “Well, good. Have a visit, then. I spoke to the stableman and he don’t mind if you stay for awhile.”

  Willie was anxious. “Has Gem started to work yet?”

  Ned shook his head.
“She’s been a bit fractious. She was fine above ground but now she’s wary of the dark tunnels.”

  Willie’s eyes grew wide with fear. “What’s goin’ to happen to her then?”

  “I dunno. It depends if they can find a driver who can handle her.”

  “I could handle her!” cried Willie.

  Ned rolled the cud of tobacco in his mouth and spat on the ground.

  “I’ll speak to the stableman and we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Good night, Willie.”

  Willie was filled with a wild hope. His heart pounded so hard, it hurt. He forgot how tired he was. He ran all the way home and told John what Ned had said.

  “I might be goin’ to be a driver,” he shouted with happiness.

  John looked worried. “Calm down, Willie. Your friend, Ned, shouldn’t get your hopes up like that. It’s not likely they’ll let a little boy like you drive a wild horse.”

  “But she’s not really wild,” said Willie.

  “Lots of men have been killed or injured, drivin’,” said John. “Sometimes there’s a runaway box, if it’s not properly spragged. Sometimes a box goes off the rails and upsets. Sometimes a horse….”

  “I don’t care,” interrupted Willie. “I’ll be a good driver if they’ll just give me a chance. You wait and see!”

  Chapter 7

  The very next day, the overman arrived at Willie’s trap with another boy to take his place.

  “Next time Ned Hall comes through, you get on the box with him. Ned will teach you a few things about driving,” said the overman.

  Willie couldn’t believe his luck. What a good friend Ned Hall had turned out to be!

  Ned came along, and he and Willie sat together on the box.

  “Gem will work in very low seams,” Ned explained. “Some are only about one metre high. Just a couple of miners work at the face, pickin’ coal. They’ll do the loading. Sometimes it’s so low they have to work on their hands and knees. There’s just barely enough room to get the coal tossed in between the roof and the top of the box.”

  “Sounds like a tight squeeze,” said Willie.

  Ned agreed. “If you get the job, all you’d have to do would be to drive back and forth as fast as you safely can. The men depend on you to get the coal out. But you’d have to be very careful. You wouldn’t want Gem to stumble on the rough roadway. You wouldn’t want her to scrape her head or shoulders on the ceiling or the sides. Drivin’ isn’t as simple as trappin’, Willie b’y.”

  “But it’s a lot more fun,” said Willie.

  “Fun!” said Ned, laughing. “I never thought of it as bein’ fun. But I like my work. Now if you was drivin’, when you get out to the landing you would unhitch Gem from the full box. Then you’d hitch onto an empty. Then back you go, back and forth, back and forth, all day long. D’you think that would be fun?”

  “I know I’d like it,” insisted Willie.

  That night they walked home together. Willie learned that Ned boarded at a house on Monkey Row. Ned was unmarried and had come from Newfoundland three years before.

  All that week, Willie worked with Ned, driving back and forth, getting to know all the hazards of driving, and all the duties of a driver.

  The weekend came, and after church Nellie and Willie walked two kilometres to the hospital to see their father. He was thin and pale and bearded. One leg was attached to a pulley which raised his leg from the bed.

  He smiled at his children. “So now you’re the man of the house, Willie,” he said.

  Willie smiled at him shyly. “Yes, Papa. I’ll get my pay at the end of the month. Hallowe’en night,” he said.

  “Good boy. I can remember when I got my first bobtail sheet,” said his father. He tried to change his position, and winced with pain.

  “I’m goin’ to try out as a driver soon,” said Willie. He couldn’t keep the hope out of his voice. “Maybe I’ll get a raise!” But he thought he’d better not mention that, if he got the job, he would be driving Gem, a Sable Island horse.

  “A driver!” His father was surprised. “Maybe all that time you spent at the stables wasn’t a waste, after all.”

  Before Willie could reply, a nurse came and told them they should go.

  Nellie kissed her father. “We’ll come next Sunday, if we can,” she promised.

  “Good,” said her father. He gave a little moan of pain and closed his eyes. When they got outside, Willie asked, “Do you really think Pa will get better?”

  “Yes, I do. And he’s so pleased and proud you went to work,” said Nellie.

  Willie didn’t say anything. If he could get to be a driver, maybe he would work until Christmas and go back to school in January. Maybe he wouldn’t miss his grade. He could study hard and catch up.

  When Willie and Nellie arrived at Sunny Row, they saw a horse and wagon tethered to the hitching post at the entry of the lane. Willie stopped short.

  “That mare looks like old Topsy,” he exclaimed. He ran over to the black horse with the sway back and rubbed her nose. “Yes, it really is Topsy!” he shouted with joy.

  He ran ahead and burst into the kitchen. There was Charley, sitting on the couch next to the warm stove, talking to Grandma as if he’d known her all his life. Grandma was laughing. Grandma hadn’t laughed since the day of the accident.

  Before Willie could say hello, Sara came bouncing up to him with a big, orange pumpkin in her arms.

  “Look, Willie, look! Mister Charley gave us some pumpkins! Now me and you and Maggie can make pumpkin grinners for Hallowe’en! I never had a pumpkin grinner before in my whole life!”

  Grandma spoke up from her rocking chair. “Hush, Sara. Remember it is the Sabbath Day.”

  Sara said, “Yes, today is the Sabbath but tomorrow is Monday, and it’s Hallowe’en. We can make grinners as soon as we get home from school, can’t we, Grandma? We know how to do it, don’t we, Maggie?”

  “Yes, but we have to let Nellie cut the cover around the stem,” said Maggie in her quiet way. She hugged her pumpkin. Her smile was almost as wide as Sara’s.

  “Then you take a big spoon and take out all the insides,” said Sara.

  John, who had his leg in its wooden splints propped up on a chair, grinned at them. “And then you give Nellie all the insides to make pumpkin pie. And then you give me all the seeds to roast in the oven,” he teased.

  Everybody laughed.

  Nellie took off her coat and hung it on a peg. “Won’t you stay for supper?” she invited Charley.

  “Thanks, but I have to get home before dark,” he said. “I just wanted to stay long enough to see Willie. How are you making out in the mine, lad?”

  “It’s all right,” said Willie. “I get paid tomorrow. Then Grandma can have tea.”

  “Good boy,” said Charley.

  “And I’m gettin’ a chance to try out as a driver. Gem is down there. I might get a chance to drive her.”

  “That’s just great!” exclaimed Charley as he picked up his cap to take his departure.

  “Please come back. I want to have a real visit with you,” begged Willie.

  “Thank you. I’ll have to get permission from my cranky sister first,” said Charley, chuckling as he went out the door.

  * * *

  Each night now, Willie borrowed the tin alarm clock from Nellie. He asked her to make up his lunch before she went to bed. By getting up very early, he hoped to avoid Simon on his way to work.

  The only heat in the house came from the coal-burning stove in the kitchen. Overnight, the fire went out. In winter sometimes, even the water in the teakettle froze solid.

  On the last day in October, Willie shivered, with cold as he crawled out of bed. John still had to sleep downstairs in the parlour. Willie lit his candle and crept down the steep, narrow stairway.
He gobbled a bowl of cold oatmeal porridge and went out into the dark morning. He hurried along by himself, whistling to keep up his courage. No one else was on the path.

  At the lamp house he exchanged his tag for a lantern, then stopped at the deputy’s cabin underground where he was told to go back to his trap. He was disappointed. He would not have a driving lesson that day. Maybe they had decided he couldn’t be a driver, after all.

  He had plenty of time to visit Gem, anyway, before he went to his trap. He found his way along the dark passages to the stable.

  The short, stocky stableman, called “Stubby,” nodded at him.

  “You can give Gem her breakfast, if you like,” he said.

  He showed Willie how to measure the grain.

  “A new seam has been opened. A small, narrow one. They’ll be wanting a pony or a small horse. If Gem’s harness is finished, and if Ned Hall says you’re ready, you can try out as a driver, soon,” said Stubby.

  Willie jumped for joy. He whistled merrily as he went about his chores, feeding Gem and brushing down her coat. It seemed like this Hallowe’en day might turn out to be one of the happiest days of his life.

  The long hours passed at the trap and when at last the shift was over, Willie found himself standing in line at the office with other miners to receive his first pay envelope and his “bobtail sheet.” It was called a bobtail sheet because with the cash was a statement. The company deducted the cost of rent, coal, medical fees, and even church collections from each miner’s pay. Many miners did not get any cash because they were deeply in debt to the Company Store. All they got was a bobtail sheet, stating how much they owed.

  But Willie’s envelope contained some cash. It was a proud moment.

  He counted the money. Two dollars and forty-seven cents. How much could Nellie buy with that? The flour was getting low in the barrel. There was hardly any kerosene for the lamp, and Grandma was longing for a cup of tea.

  As he limped out of the line-up, Willie wiggled his big toe. It was sticking out of the end of his right boot. There was a hole in the bottom of his left boot. He had a sore on the sole of this foot, making him limp.

  But he couldn’t hope for new boots this month. Food was more important.