Peanut made a noise. “Plenty of time to make an enemy of Dougherty.”
That was what George was afraid of. “Is it possible to get to the area where the explosion happened?”
Peanut frowned. “Yes, but I wouldn’t recommend it. I was being straight with you when I said it was stupid. Not unless you got a death wish. That man wouldn’t be the first to disappear down here. Probably won’t be the last.”
Considering they didn’t know for sure that’s what happened to Pierre’s father, or even that he’d been there, George was inclined to agree. Ever since he was young, his father had told him how dangerous dynamite was and how easy it would be to get hurt or killed when using it improperly.
One more reason to hope that John would be able to get better information than George.
Light in the tunnel indicated someone was coming toward them. George picked up the pick.
“Thanks for your help, Peanut.”
The other man grinned as he started pushing the ore cart the other way. They’d been talking long enough that they could get in trouble for shirking their duty, and since that was one of the reasons Dougherty was upset with George, he didn’t want to give him more fuel for the fire. Or tempt the manager to turn his rage on Peanut.
As Peanut disappeared down the tunnel, the light stopped. Whoever it was most likely wanted Peanut, not George. The other men hadn’t been as talkative as usual with George, probably because they were afraid of risking Dougherty’s wrath. He didn’t blame them. These men needed jobs, and many of the other mines weren’t hiring. Plus, the mine bosses tended to talk to one another. If a man were fired for poor work habits, it would be hard to get on at another place.
One more reason to hurry and make things right here at the mine. It wasn’t right that everyone here had to work in fear.
Peanut came running back to him. “Come quick. There’s been an explosion up top. Them church people got hurt.”
Dropping his pick, George followed, and the two men ran out of the mine. It appeared that everyone else had already exited, and the area outside the mine was in utter chaos.
The ministry had set up their operations to serve food and water to the miners near an unexcavated rock formation, but from the way debris and rubble was strewn about, it was hard to tell the rocks had ever existed.
George passed a wheel lying on the ground. From the looks of it, it had belonged to the ministry’s wagon.
He ran toward where the wagon was supposed to be. Yesterday, that’s where Flora and Pierre had been working.
“Flora! Pierre!”
In the din of people wailing and crying for their friends, he doubted they could hear his voice.
The air was thick with dust, making George cough. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, covering his mouth and nose. An injured miner passed him, holding his arm.
Men were lying on the ground, some moaning, but others eerily silent.
Two women were huddled together, sobbing.
“Have you seen Flora and Pierre?” he asked them.
They shook their heads.
George continued closer to where the wagon was supposed to have been. He passed a piece of broken board with the partial lettering of the church’s name. A sour taste filled his mouth.
Please, God.
George didn’t even know what to ask for. Even through his handkerchief, the scent of blood assaulted his nostrils. More injured men lay around him, their bodies in unnatural positions.
A pile of rocks blocked his path, and a woman’s foot stuck out from underneath.
“Flora!” George clawed at the rocks.
“I’ll help,” Peanut said, coming behind him.
The men worked together, moving rocks. He could tell others had joined in the effort, but he wasn’t taking the time to check it out. With each rock he moved, he called out her name, but there was no answer.
As they cleared out more rocks, George realized the woman buried in the rubble wasn’t Flora. And though he might have been relieved at the sight, it was obvious the woman was dead.
“Diana!” A woman’s wail pierced his ears. “Diana is dead!”
More wails and sobs sounded behind him as he lifted the last rock from the woman’s body. He turned and saw several women from the church group huddled together, sobbing.
Flora wasn’t among them. Nor was Pierre.
He spied John running toward him. “Have you seen Flora?”
George shook his head. “I can’t find her. Pierre is missing, as well.”
As George started closer to the area where Flora would have been, John stopped him.
“Where are you going?”
“To see if...” George shook his head. He didn’t want to say he needed to find her body, but at this point things looked so bleak, it seemed to be the only possibility.
“She switched jobs today. She’s supposed to be by the creek, washing dishes.”
George turned and ran for the creek, leaving the other man behind.
As he left the scene, he passed more injured people. More sobbing women. Then he stopped. Froze.
Flora was coming toward him, carrying Pierre. Her face was a mixture of terror and confusion.
“What happened?”
“Are you all right?”
He put his arms around her, not caring about propriety or anything else. Flora was alive. Pierre was safe.
“There was an explosion at the mine,” George said, holding her close. Pierre squirmed between them, so he loosened his grip.
“I’m so glad you’re all right.” He gave her a final squeeze, then let her go.
Looking at her, he took in every detail of her perfect face. He thanked God she’d been at the creek, away from the danger.
Flora started to head in the direction of the mine, but George stopped her. “Don’t. You shouldn’t have to see that.”
She stared at him as she set Pierre down. “But...the ministry. Pastor Lassiter.”
John joined them, out of breath from running. “Is fine. I just ran into him. He’s asked us to gather the ladies and escort them back to camp. They’re headed in our direction.”
Stepping away as John pulled his daughter into his arms, George watched the man’s tears fall.
“Come here, Pierre,” George said. The little boy didn’t have to be told twice. Though he hadn’t seen the devastation at the mine, the child seemed to understand that something was terribly wrong.
George held the little boy, repeating the only French he could remember that seemed to fit the situation. “Ça va bien,” he said over and over.
But as he turned to survey the site of the explosion, George wasn’t sure he could say for certain that anything would be all right ever again.
An innocent woman had died. Many others were injured and possibly also dead. The very thing George had come to the mine to prevent had happened. Only it was more unthinkable than he could have ever imagined.
* * *
Flora tried to hold back the flow of tears as her father told her what had happened at the mine.
“I thank God you let that other woman switch jobs with you,” he said, embracing her again. “I don’t know what I would have done had it been you.”
“What do you mean?” She pulled away and stared at him.
“Ellen’s friend is dead,” he said quietly. “And they haven’t found Ellen yet.”
It should have been her. Tears rolled down Flora’s cheeks. Her one attempt at a new friendship, and because Flora had chosen to help her friend out, a woman was dead and her friend missing.
“You’re safe. It’s all right.” Her father reached for her, but Flora resisted.
“It’s not all right,” Flora said. “Diana is dead, and Ellen...they died in my place.�
��
“That’s right, they did.” Sarah’s voice came from over Flora’s shoulder.
She turned to face her former friend.
“You killed them, Flora Montgomery. Because of you, two of our friends are dead. I knew we shouldn’t have listened to Ellen in giving you a chance. This is all your fault.”
“That’s not fair,” her father said, glaring at Sarah. “And I’m ashamed of you for saying so. Your parents would be disappointed in you. Flora didn’t cause that explosion. For reasons only God knows, Flora was spared, and we should all be grateful.”
“Ellen and Diana were worth a thousand of Flora,” Sarah said, her glare burning Flora. “I will never forgive you for being so selfish as to make them take your place today.”
“But I didn’t.” Tears streamed down Flora’s face. “Ellen asked me last night, saying she wanted a more pleasant job for Diana.”
“And now you’re blaming her? You’re a horrible person, Flora Montgomery.”
Sarah stomped away, leaving Flora staring after her.
“Sweetheart, you can’t blame yourself.” Her father tried to put his arms around her, but Flora resisted his embrace.
“She’s right. I was supposed to be working there today. It should have been me.”
More tears streamed down her face as she watched Sarah speak to the other women, occasionally looking back at Flora with such hatred in her glances that Flora couldn’t imagine anything worse in the world. No, there was something worse. Dying a horrible death the way Diana apparently had, all because of a change in plans that had her taking Flora’s place.
Then she saw Pastor Lassiter, leading a horse that was pulling something behind it.
As they got closer, Flora could see that it was some kind of sled and a woman lay on it, moaning.
Ellen.
Flora ran toward them. Her friend was alive. Though Flora could see blood seeping through bandages on Ellen’s head, the other woman was still alive.
“John, I need you to get your horse and run for a doctor. One’s already been sent for, but your horse is faster, and you’re the best horseman I know. We don’t have much time.”
Her father dashed into action. “I brought the buggy up. Let’s get Ellen loaded in there and I can drive her down. It’ll be quicker than waiting for the doctor.”
She followed her father, noting that George had joined them, Pierre still clinging to him. “I should take Pierre. You’re probably better at hitching a horse to a buggy than I am.”
George nodded, and Flora took the little boy out of his arms. Pierre looked terrified, and she realized that since he didn’t understand English, all the little boy knew was that something terrible had happened. Even being fluent in French, Flora had no words to explain the tragedy that had befallen them all. She wasn’t sure she could even do it in English.
Slowly, she put together as simple an explanation as she could for the child. Her voice cracked as she spoke, trying to convey things in a way he would understand.
Pierre placed his hands on her cheek. “Ça va être bien.”
Flora closed her eyes. It was going to be all right. George. She’d seen them talking, and though they knew little of each other’s language, Flora knew George had given this little boy the quiet strength to comfort her.
She watched as George helped her father hitch his horses to the buggy, the men focused on getting the job done as quickly as possible.
George had held her so tight when he’d come upon them. Clearly he’d thought that she was serving water, as well, and had feared the worst. He hadn’t wanted to lose her.
And in the light of all this death and destruction, Flora wasn’t sure she wanted to lose him, either.
“Flora!” Pastor Lassiter waved her over. “I need you to go with them. Sit in the back of the buggy, keeping pressure here, on the wound.”
He gestured to the blood-soaked cloth on Ellen’s head. “I’ll have George hold her as still as possible while your father drives. I need to remain and bring order to everything, as well as see to the injured miners, but Ellen’s injuries are more serious and she needs a doctor right away. Someone is coming with more bandages. The ones you have are soaked through.”
“What about Pierre?” She looked down at the little boy in her arms. She wasn’t willing to let him too far out of her sight. Not now, not knowing how precious life was and how easily it could all be taken from a person.
“You can bring him with you. He’s small enough that there should be room. Once we get Ellen settled with the doctor, your father can meet up with me and we’ll figure things out. But Ellen is our primary concern right now.”
Flora nodded as she set Pierre down and took over applying pressure to Ellen’s wound. The men worked together to lift Ellen into the carriage, keeping her steady while allowing Flora to continue caring for her friend.
Pastor Lassiter laid his hand on Ellen’s head. “Help her, Father.” Then he looked at the rest of them. “God be with you all.”
As they got themselves situated, Flora found the best way to tend Ellen meant being pressed against George. Pierre was nestled against her father as he drove, and it warmed her heart to see how tenderly her father had put his arm around Pierre, keeping him close as he held the reins.
Pastor Lassiter leaned in to Flora. “I heard what Sarah said. This is not your fault. You did not cause the explosion, and you did not make Ellen trade with you. I know as well as you that she asked for the switch. This is not Ellen’s fault, either. I have no answer as to the whys and wherefores of today’s tragedy. But you must hold on to the belief that God is good, and He surrounds us with His love, even though we have no explanation.”
Tears filled Flora’s eyes, and she wished she could believe him. Yes, she knew God was good, and in a very intangible way she knew He loved them, but it seemed horribly unfair that people as good as Diana and Ellen had taken her place.
“He’s right,” George said, giving her a tender look. “You can’t blame yourself. Other forces are at work here, and they have nothing to do with you or any one of us.” A dark expression crossed his face. “Someone set that explosion, and that person will be brought to justice.”
“We’ve already sent for the sheriff,” Pastor Lassiter said. “Please don’t make this about revenge, but let the law handle this.”
George nodded.
One of the women arrived at the carriage, breathless from running. “Here are the extra bandages.”
Flora took the new bandages, switching out the old ones, her stomach recoiling at the sight of Ellen’s wound.
Please, God, don’t let her die. More tears filled Flora’s eyes, but she willed them back. She would stay strong for her friend.
Her father looked back at her. “Do you have Ellen settled?”
“Yes.” Flora tried not to despair at the grim expression on her father’s face.
He gave a quick nod, then urged the horses forward.
Flora had never seen her father drive so fast. It took every ounce of strength she had to continue applying pressure to Ellen’s wound, and she was grateful for the way George’s body pinned them both to the seat. Pierre was secure by her father’s side.
With every thunder of the horses’ hoofbeats, Flora prayed. It almost became a sort of rhythm. Please, Lord. Lord, have mercy. And it was only those words that gave her the strength to carry on.
Chapter Ten
When they arrived at the hospital, people ran out to meet them. News of the tragedy had already spread through town, and the hospital was ready for the victims. From the brief snatches of conversation, Flora learned that the other injured parties, all miners, had been loaded into wagons and were being brought down.
Though she heard disdain in some of the voices that they were only miners who’d been hurt, Flora sen
t the same fervent prayer she’d prayed for Ellen regarding those men. They were people, too, who had families and loved ones, hopes and dreams. They hadn’t deserved this, either.
Once Ellen had been whisked away, Flora turned to her father. “Please. I know this isn’t your responsibility. But I’ve heard that the current mine owner isn’t one to concern himself with the well-being of the miners. Could you please tell the hospital that you’ll pay to care for the men who were hurt? And to spare no expense?”
Her father looked at her, a serious expression filling his face. “Father, please. If it’s about the money, I promise I won’t ask for any more dresses. Use that. But don’t let these men suffer.”
Tears filled his eyes as he took her into his arms. “My dear child. Of course I will help them. Thank you for revealing your heart.”
Then he turned to George, who was standing nearby with Pierre. “It’s too dark to return to the mine tonight, and I know Anna is probably beside herself with worry. Let’s go home, get cleaned up and have a good night’s sleep.”
Flora looked down at her dress and realized for the first time it was filthy with dust, grime and Ellen’s blood. A bath would be most welcome, but she wasn’t sure it would be enough to wash away the pain of today’s tragedy.
They’d barely pulled up in front of the house when Flora’s mother came running out.
“John! Flora! You’re safe!”
Flora hadn’t had a chance to alight before her mother had put her arms around her.
“My sweet girl. You’re home. I don’t care what anyone says about you. I’ll not have you go back to that terrible place. I want you close to me where I can keep you safe.”
Her mother covered her with kisses, an ordinarily embarrassing display of affection. But Flora didn’t care. Until now, she hadn’t realized how good and safe it felt to be in her mother’s arms.
“Now, Anna, let’s get everyone inside,” Flora’s father said gently.
She seemed to realize where they were, and given her mother’s high regard for public decorum, she nodded. “Yes, of course.”
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