She’d never been the first one in and hoped the overseer wasn’t an early bird.
“Hello?” she called out. Silence. “Anyone here?”
She let out a breath of relief. The spinning room was empty, the machines looking like hulking, sleeping monsters. If she got too close to one it might reach out and snatch her.
Briar had been fortunate to have had no accidents in the years she’d worked there. Others had gotten their clothing pulled in, or had their fingers mashed. No one in her mill had been scalped, but there were stories, and thankfully they’d avoided any fires in their mill. After the hullabaloo at the World’s Fair in Chicago where electric lights were on display, the owners of the mill got on a list to have their mills lit up with incandescent bulbs instead of gas lights. With the floating bits of cotton and the grease-soaked floors, fires were a constant fear.
Her footfalls were loud on the wooden floor without all the noise to dull them. Her frames stood silent, waiting for her, as familiar to her as her own hands. With set lips, she marched to frame number four and located the crooked spindle. She lifted the bobbin and bent low to get a good look at how the connection was made.
She fitted the wrench around the bottom and tried to give it a good twist. It held firm.
“Well, aren’t you the early one?” Annie said as she took up her place at the frames beside Briar’s.
Briar inhaled sharply and her heart began to race. She immediately let go of the bobbin. As it dropped back into place she pocketed the wrench and pasted on a smile. “Was up and wanted some time to myself.”
“I know what you mean. You’ve discovered my secret. I’m usually the first one here. Gives me time to water the plants and quiet my mind.” She held up a watering can. “I’m certainly not here early because of the pay. Especially not today, since it’s the day we get less in our envelopes. Being early quitting time, I was hoping to spend a little in town tonight—”
“Don’t let me keep you from the plants,” Briar interrupted, hoping to send her on.
“They’re fine. I probably overwater them anyway.” Annie rambled on about their pay until the overseer came in.
There went any hope of swapping out the spindle before the day began.
He walked the length of the floor, pausing when he saw Briar and Annie. Briar self-consciously held her hands in front of her pocket. He gave them a thoughtful expression before continuing on, not saying anything. Briar couldn’t tell what that look was about. It was almost as if he was pleased she was there early.
Next, a steady stream of girls filed in and lined up near their frames. The overseer took his place by the pull cord. Like an automaton, Briar lined herself up with the lever on frame number one, ready to go through the motions. The spindle bumped against her thigh, reminding her of what she needed to do. She would not give up and let the current pull her downstream. Today, she would stay alert for the right moment, and then be quick about changing out the spindles.
When the bell clanged, the overseer pulled the rope that connected the electricity to the leather bands. The girls simultaneously threw the shipping handles on their machines and the room roared to life. Briar could never decide what her body felt first. Was it the thrumming of the vibrations on the floor buzzing her feet, or the flapping of the leather bands pounding her ears?
The spindles spun like rows of tiny dancers, stretching and winding the roving into thread. It was a routine that woke her up and energized her. By quitting time, she’d be dragging her feet, but for now, it was a fresh new day. She glanced at that corner of frame number four. Like Henry, she was going to try something new to change the future for her family.
Chapter Seventeen
For the first time, the overseer stayed in his room the entire morning. Briar kept checking over her shoulder for him, jumping at the slightest movement of the operatives around her. Odd. After days of hovering, he was letting everyone work. It was almost more off-putting than his hovering. The operatives kept casting looks and shrugging at one another until they got used to his absence.
Near the end of the shift, before the dinner bell, Briar checked on Sadie to see if she needed anything. Sadie shook her head. She was now able to handle two frames on her own, and next week would take on a third.
Briar waited for her doffer to work down to the farthest frame away from pesky number four. With her big cart of bobbins and quick movements, the girl would draw attention, and Briar could do what she needed to do.
Because her task was dangerous, Briar couldn’t just set the spindle break on the chosen spindle to turn it off and make the switch. She had to shut down the entire frame or risk injuring her hands. This meant she had to work fast before the overseer left his office and noticed her stalled frame. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the lever and set to work.
She drew off the bobbin and set it aside. Then, using the wrench, she attacked the bolster case…or was it the lock…or the bearing? Who knew? Henry had tried to talk to her about the parts of the frame so she could keep it running better, but at the time all she cared about was him getting her frame up and running again. Sweet Henry. She’d only gotten that one letter from him. Surely he would have had time to write another by now. Let her know he was okay and if he was able to do anything about the letter to her aunt. She looked at that place on the frame where she’d been getting the little tokens, but it was empty.
Briar wiped the sweat off her hands to get a better grip on the wrench. Already, the room was unbearably hot and muggy. She leaned into the frame, using all her strength. If she could only loosen this bit, the shaft should slip out. Like that. She grinned. Ha! She did it. But when she pulled the bent spindle out of the frame, she realized it wasn’t simply a shaft. It had its own version of the whorl molded to it. But the whorl on the wooden spindle was way too big. Now what?
She glanced up to see where everyone was. No sign of the overseer, which meant he was likely at the far side of the room. Maribelle was on the first frame, working her way closer.
Now what could she use to make a smaller whorl? There was no way she’d whittle down the rose-carved one it came with. It was too beautiful to destroy like that.
Quickly, Briar took the bundle out of her pocket. But before she could unwrap it, the bell rang, and she shoved it back out of sight. The noise in the room fell silent as everyone shut down their frames and the overseer emerged from the office to turn off the power. He caught Briar’s eye, nodded once, and left the building.
Briar cocked her head, wondering about the change in the overseer. Perhaps he had recommended she be sent to Burlington so she was no longer his responsibility?
“Aren’t you coming?” asked Annie.
Briar shook her head. “In a minute. I’m having some trouble with my frame, as usual.” She stood in front of it, hands behind her back and blocking Annie’s view.
Annie frowned in sympathy. “That frame never has worked right. Don’t be too long or you’ll miss out.”
Briar waved and then turned back to analyze the metal spindle to see if she could take the whorl off.
Maribelle stood at her elbow. “Can I help you with something, miss?”
Briar nearly jumped out of her skin. “Go have your dinner. I’ll adjust this spindle and be off myself.”
Maribelle nodded, her eyes darting to the metal spindle in Briar’s hand before skipping away.
Panic welled up inside. What was she going to do? She didn’t want to give up so easily. She kept her eyes on the operatives headed out to dinner while she felt the wooden spindle through her apron until the whorl separated from the shaft and dropped to the bottom of her pocket.
Before doing anything else, she would measure the spindle to see if it even fit. Keeping the wooden spindle hidden in the handkerchief, she lowered the shaft into the gap-toothed sneer of the frame. Perfect match. So if she could figure out a way to make a smaller whorl for the spindle, it just might work.
She pulled the wooden spindle away, but all that cam
e loose was handkerchief and silk cloth. The spindle had caught in the frame.
Briar glanced over her shoulder. No one but the shadowy machines watching her. She reached back in with the cloth, trying to keep the spindle hidden.
She wiggled the shaft, but it held fast.
She bent down to see what the spindle had caught on. Nothing. She peered closer. The wood had grown a new whorl in the exact shape and size it needed. She gasped and pulled her hand away. Then she took a step back. What was this thing the peddler had given her?
Fairy wood.
Impossible. Fairy tales were stories her mother made up to help them live through the hunger. They were tales. Not real.
With trembling fingers, Briar tested the strength of the bond again. It was even more solid than before. Hardly daring to breathe, she replaced the bobbin then stuffed the royal blue cloth back in her pocket. She hid the metal spindle in a little hollow at the base of the frame, hoping that it wouldn’t roll out with the vibrations when the machine started up again. She didn’t want to take it back to the boardinghouse in case she needed it again or in case someone saw it in her pocket and asked questions.
Letting her feet carry her back to the boardinghouse in a daze, she left the building to join her mill sisters for dinner. So befuddled, she barely noticed she was going against the tide as everyone was jostling their way back to the mill.
“Briar!” called Ethel. “You’re late. Here, I slipped out some food for you.” Ethel handed her a sausage wrapped in a flapjack, then turned Briar around to go back to the mill. “Don’t tell Miss Olive. You okay? You’ve been acting strange ever since the meeting last night. I didn’t scare you off, did I? I don’t expect you to plunge right into a campaign. I just want you to realize your potential. We can get tied up in our work, becoming machines ourselves if we’re not careful.”
Ethel preached on and on until they climbed the stairs and had to part ways. Briar had mindlessly nodded to keep Ethel going while she tried to understand what had happened to her frame and the spindle. She put her hand in her pocket and felt the whorl with its carved roses. It was buzzing, the way the floor in the spinning room felt when all the machines were on and the vibrations worked their way up her body. She yanked her hand out.
What had she done? Had she fought further upstream like Elizabeth Cady Stanton encouraged, or was this an example of giving in to temptation? This was no normal spindle. By placing it in the frame it was as if she had turned it on the way the overseer turned on the power each morning.
When she stepped into the room, she was afraid to even look at the spinning frame. What if it had started to grow like Jack’s beanstalk and taken over the room? She glanced down her row. Her frame looked as it always had. An inanimate object waiting for Briar to turn it on and set its spindles to spinning. She laughed nervously. Her anxiety over getting caught had given her an imagination as wild as the twins’.
There had to be some rational explanation for how the spindle stuck in the frame. The wood swelling from the high humidity in the room, for example. And the whorl didn’t start its buzzing until she crossed the threshold. It might have been reacting to the looms above, which were turned on and off in shifts and could be felt below.
The bell sounded and the machines around her roared to life as the girls threw their shipper handles. Maribelle, who had come to finish the doffing she’d started before the bell, pointed to Briar’s silent machines. “Aren’t you gonna start?” the girl yelled over the din.
Briar shook herself out of her musings and rushed to get all four machines up and going. When she turned on the power for number four and the spindles began to whirl, she sucked in a breath and waited for something bad to happen.
Little Maribelle, after finishing her doffing, wandered off to find someone to play with. Briar paced up and down her frames, fixing the odd broken thread on numbers one, two, and three, but keeping her distance from number four. She didn’t want to get too close, and she didn’t have to.
For the first time ever, the threads never broke. Just as the peddler said.
Soon, Maribelle joined her to exchange the bobbins again. She started with frame number one. For a moment, Briar wondered if she should volunteer to take care of the work, but that would raise suspicion if the other spinners happened to notice what she was doing. Instead, while biting her lip, she watched Maribelle lift up a bobbin, drop it in her cart, and load an empty one in its place. Over and over as she worked her way toward the fairy-wood spindle.
Chapter Eighteen
Maribelle was one spindle away now. Briar watched, bouncing on the balls of her feet, ready to step in if there was a problem. She didn’t want to call attention to the new spindle, but she didn’t trust that small piece of fairy wood. It did something unexpected and that made her almost as worried as getting caught.
Maribelle’s chubby hand reached for the bobbin atop the wooden spindle. Briar’s heart beat against her chest. She rushed over and reached for the same bobbin. “This one is tricky,” she yelled over the noise of the machines. “I’ll help you with it.”
Maribelle shook her head, clasping the bobbin before Briar could get to it. “I can do it. I don’t need help anymore. Honest.”
Briar thought of Pansy as she looked into Maribelle’s earnest eyes. The girl was trying to show how grown-up she was. Fine. Briar wouldn’t take the burgeoning pride away from her, but she would stick close.
Grinning, Maribelle zipped off the bobbin, an empty one ready to replace it. A slight hesitation was the only indication that she’d noticed something amiss. She dropped the new bobbin and moved on.
Briar lowered her hands and backed away. Maribelle, with her tongue sticking out in concentration, finished the line, pushing her cart as she went. The full cart took all her strength, and again Briar was tempted to help her. But the girl was determined, and she made steady progress.
Briar breathed out her tension. So far so good. As long as the spindle held, everything should be fine. It would be fine. Better than fine.
All the same, Briar remained on edge. Frame number four never left the corner of her eye. She stayed attuned to it even more than usual, but for a different reason now. She wasn’t worried the threads would snap; she was worried they wouldn’t. Others would surely notice the change in routine and question her.
The day continued with Briar both hovering over frame number four and staying as far away from it as she could. Not once did her persnickety frame break down. Not once.
Not only that, the bobbins were filling up faster than usual. By the time Maribelle had gone down the entire line, frame number four was ready for doffing again.
Finally, near the end of the day, the overseer stopped by to see what was going on. “Frame cooperating today?” he said.
Was that suspicion in his voice? Briar nodded and kept working.
For the first time since being assigned these frames, she was ahead of all the other girls in production numbers. Even though it was Saturday and they’d be ending early, she’d made a full day’s production.
The spindle was working.
When the bell rang out signaling the end of the day, Maribelle was at her elbow to help clean the frames. Briar and her doffer worked together to get the stray bits of cotton out of the frames, either sticking the bits in their apron pockets or dropping them on the floor for the boys to sweep up. It was messy work and they came away with cotton fluff stuck to their clothes and hair, but it was worth it to go home early and, for Briar, to ride out on the bicycle to the cottage to see the children.
“Thank you, Maribelle,” Briar said as they finished up the last frame. The frame. “You did some good work today. Tell your mama I said so.”
Maribelle beamed. Then she turned her rosy face up to Briar and asked, “What happened to the spindle on this frame? Before dinner it was metal; now it’s wood.”
Briar searched for what to say. “It’s working better than it ever has before. Don’t trouble yourself over it.”
“It’s pretty. Do we oil it like the others?”
Briar hesitated. “No, leave it be. If it sticks we can oil it then.”
Nodding, Maribelle waved and was off with a speed only the young doffers could manage at the end of a long work week.
Briar turned back to her frame and noticed a sprig of Solomon’s Seal sitting innocently in that corner spot where an acorn and the heart-shaped rock had been previously.
“Henry?” she whispered as she reached out for it. The little white bells shook in her hand as she lifted it to smell the sweet scent. What was going on? How were all these little remembrances of him cropping up?
She carried the sprig with her to the payment line, trying to make sense of all that had happened that day. The spindle had worked even better than she had hoped, but her spirit was unsettled, and she began to question herself. It grew its own whorl. Humidity aside, how was that even possible?
The paymaster had already started distributions. Girls were receiving their envelopes, glancing inside, then passing wide-eyed looks to those behind them in line. No one dared complain outright in front of the overseer, but tonight in the parlors, tongues would be wagging.
Briar waited patiently for her turn. When the girl in front of her looked inside her envelope and then gave Briar a twisted smile, Briar responded with a knowing frown. She handed her payment number to the paymaster and he flipped through his box of envelopes until he found hers. She grabbed it and stuffed it in her pocket without looking.
After a final glance at her frame with the new wooden spindle, she escaped the spinning room, her legs trembling. What would happen while she was gone? Would someone find out what she had done? It was far too late to ask permission, but the overseer had told her to fix her frame. And fix it she did.
Chapter Nineteen
Descending the outside stairs, Briar inhaled the summer air. The temperature inside the mill and outside was about the same now, but at least outside you could smell the fragrance of summer. The cedars warming in the sun, the wildflowers blooming. She breathed deeply to steady her racing heartbeat.
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