Her heart pounding wildly, Karina climbed the steps to the second floor to have a look for herself. When she reached the top of the stairs, she saw the silhouette of a man standing in the doorway of Henry’s bedroom. Was that Pavol? Why hadn’t he gone in yet? And where was Stofanik?
Karina narrowed her eyes as she examined the man more carefully. Her heart sank. She heard the distinct click from the hammer of a gun.
“Who the hell are you?” Henry shouted, pointing a gun into his own bedroom.
Karina shuddered. This can’t be happening!
“Sorry, sir. I in wrong house,” Stofanik stammered in broken English from somewhere inside the bedroom. “I drunk. Had too much whiskey.”
“Shut up! You think I can’t hear your foul Hunky accent? Get on your knees. I’m calling the police. This is exactly the sort of thing I’d expect from that bitch.”
Karina panicked. This was not the ending she had envisioned. And where was Pavol? She scanned the hallway. Dawn was approaching, and light was beginning to filter through the windows of the four bedrooms situated around the hall. Karina gasped. She saw a pair of feet peeking out of the doorway in the bedroom closest to her. She slipped inside and found Pavol lying on the floor, unconscious. Had Henry knocked him out?
Karina felt nauseous. She could still hear Stofanik pleading with Henry in his feigned drunken state. How had two strong steelworkers armed with a club and an axe handle managed to screw this up so badly?
As Karina bent over Pavol, her mind raced. Her eyes darted frantically around the room in search of a weapon. There was no way she was letting Henry Archer leave town without paying for his sins. At last, she spotted a cast iron doorstop in the shape of a cat on the floor of the open bedroom closet. The transport company missed it!
Without thinking, Karina grabbed the cat and charged toward Henry. She raised the heavy doorstop high into the air and struck the back of his head. Henry made no sound as he crumbled to the floor, blood gushing from his scalp. He lay motionless as a bright red puddle formed around his head, staining the expensive Persian rug that was to be sold with the house.
“My my, Mrs. Kovac! You are special.”
“What the hell happened in here? Why is Pavol unconscious in the other room?”
“I was wondering what happened to him. He told me he wanted Archer all to himself for a few minutes so he could strike the first blows. He told me to wait downstairs for a bit. I guess your sweetheart was ready for him.”
“And you didn’t help him?”
“I didn’t hear anything. I figured Pavol took the easy route and knocked the guy out in his sleep. I came up to the bedroom to get my share of the cash, and your sweetheart surprised me from behind—with a gun,” Stofanik said, shaking his head.
“Stop calling him my sweetheart,” Karina demanded.
“Isn’t that what he is? Only a jilted lover would go to all this trouble for revenge.”
“Just get his wallet, John.”
“I think you should have the honor.”
Karina bent down and dug through Henry’s pants’ pockets. It didn’t take her long to locate the wallet. She pulled it out and admired its thickness.
“Open it up and count it out where I can see,” Stofanik urged.
Karina began counting. “One, two, three …” Her eyes grew wide. “There’s almost eight hundred dollars! Why on Earth?”
“Christ Almighty!” Stofanik slapped his leg. “That’s more than I make in a year.”
Karina looked at the money in her hands and then glanced down at Henry. Blood continued to pour out of his head. “Why is he bleeding so much?”
“You hit him good and hard.”
“He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”
“Aww … he’ll be fine. Might be a little sore when he wakes up though. Or maybe not,” Stofanik said, scratching his temple. “That’s a pretty good bit of blood.”
“Oh, my God!” Karina leaned over and put her ear to Henry’s mouth. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing.
“You need to check his wrist. See if you feel a pulse. Lemme do it,” Stofanik said, pushing Karina out of the way. He knelt down and grabbed Henry’s wrist. He felt around for half a minute and then looked up at her. “I hate to say it, but I think you killed the bastard.”
Karina’s hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted …” she stammered.
“What did you do?” Pavol asked, stumbling into the bedroom. He stared at Henry’s bloody head as he rubbed the back of his own. “That son of a bitch hit me from behind. He knocked me out.”
“Mrs. Kovac took care of him for you. She killed him.” Stofanik chuckled.
“I didn’t kill him!” Karina whined, covering her face with her hands. “It was an accident.”
“All right, come on. We’ve gotta get out of here while it’s still dark. Get up.” Stofanik dragged Karina to her feet and led her to the top of the stairs. She looked back over her shoulder at Henry lying on the floor in his own blood. She felt nauseous, dizzy. Suddenly, Stofanik turned around and walked back over to the body.
“I almost forgot the pocket watch.”
Karina stared at the large man as he searched her employer’s clothing. Henry’s arm fell limply to the ground as Stofanik rolled him over to retrieve the watch from his back pocket.
“Now, hand me that wallet. Me and Pavol will take four hundred and the watch. You can have the rest.”
Karina didn’t object as Stofanik counted out his and Pavol’s share and handed the wallet back to her. She stood motionless, stunned by what had transpired.
“Mrs. Kovac, pull yourself together. We got more cash now than we know what to do with. Of course, I’m sure I’ll find a way to spend it,” Stofanik said gleefully. “Pavol, are you okay? You’re mighty quiet.”
“My goddamned head hurts. I’m supposed to work today,” he said, still clutching his head.
“Never mind that mill. You got enough money to live comfortably for months. Hurry up, now. Let’s slip out the back door and get outta this neighborhood.”
Still in a daze, Karina followed her accomplices down the stairs and past the parlor. “What am I going to do?” she moaned. “What if the police suspect me? I was his housekeeper.”
“You’re not going to hang around and find out, are you? You need to lie low for a while,” Stofanik said. “Get out of town.”
Panic welling inside her, Karina thought of her family. What would they think if she didn’t come home? She had planned to stay. She was going to use Henry’s money to help pay for their move up north. Suddenly, she didn’t want to go anywhere but home. She didn’t want to be with anyone but Janos. A series of slaps to her cheek interrupted her desperate thoughts.
“Wake up, honey. There’s no time to think. We gotta go!”
Stofanik led Karina by the arm to the back of the house. As soon as they reached the door, her mind began to clear. “Wait, there’s something I need from the parlor.”
She rushed back down the hallway to the empty room at the front of the house. In the middle of the vast space sat her traveling suitcase filled with her new dresses, hats, and accessories. She grabbed it and ran to the back door.
“Can one of you help me carry this to the train station?”
Twenty
SOFIE
RIVERTON, JUNE 25, 1910
Sofie pushed her half-eaten eggs around her plate with a fork and let out a huge sigh. She glanced at her brother, who was inhaling his breakfast. He looked like a miniature version of her father except that his green eyes were a shade darker, and his hair was blonde and messy. She envied his appetite and wondered if there would ever be a time or circumstance that would diminish his ravenous hunger. She doubted it.
Sensing that his sister was staring at him, or perhaps just needing to catch his breath in between bites, Lukas looked up for a split second. He noticed his sister’s plate, her scrambled eggs and bacon slices untouched. He smiled and gave Sofie an expect
ant look. She dropped her fork and shoved the plate in her brother’s direction. She then rested her head on her hand and closed her eyes.
“What’s the matter, Sofie?” Aunt Anna asked. “What did Pole say that got you so upset?”
“I don’t feel like talking about it.”
“It’s not like you to skip breakfast. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me?”
Sofie looked down at her thumb and examined the puncture wound she had gotten from a fishing hook the day before. She didn’t know what to say. She always told Aunt Anna her problems, but she didn’t want to betray Pole’s trust. She couldn’t lie to her aunt either. She had always been so good to Sofie, more affectionate and loving than her own mother. Sofie sat for a few moments, watching her brother gorge himself while considering her choice of words.
“If you don’t want to help Pole with the fishing anymore, I’m sure he’ll understand. Sometimes when you turn a hobby into an occupation, you lose your love for it,” Aunt Anna said.
“It’s not that. Pole’s leaving me on my own for a bit to manage the fishing. He’s got some other business to take care of.”
Sofie’s aunt put down her teacup. “What sort?”
“Family stuff. He’s not sure when he can help me again.”
“He won’t leave you on your own for long. I know how fond he is of you. You’d better be careful at that boarding house though. Maybe I should go with you when you sell your fish.”
Sofie nodded.
“Why don’t you get dressed and take Lukas with you to the fishing hole? He’s not Pole, but he can help.”
Sofie didn’t want to take her brother, but she figured she had better follow her aunt’s advice and get out the door before she asked any more questions. She had been able to get away with giving Aunt Anna a partial truth about Pole and hadn’t been forced to lie. Hopefully, that would be the end of the discussion. She got up from the table and went to the bedroom to put on some clothes.
As Sofie made her way down the street toward the fishing hole, Lukas followed several steps behind. He was so easily distracted, stopping to pick up rocks or poke at a dead mouse lying in the dirt, half-eaten by stray cats. She glanced back at him and shook her head. It was probably after eight o’clock, and the best fishing would soon be behind them. Sofie froze in her tracks. She pulled her father’s old pocket watch out of her dress pocket and saw that it was a quarter past eight. Could she make it to the train station in time to see Pole before he left?
She turned around and ran past her brother. “Lukas, I forgot that I need to take care of something downtown. I’ll pick you up later. Wait at home with Aunt Anna.”
Sofie ran back down the unpaved street toward her house, dropping her fishing pole and bucket on the front porch with a loud clang. She sprinted through the streets of her neighborhood and into the ethnic side of the town’s market district where one of her Catholic school classmates was selling wild strawberries. She only had time to give the girl a quick wave.
The urge to see Pole growing stronger, Sofie crossed over Riverton Avenue, entering the affluent side of town. She passed the bank, the town hall, and Kaufmann’s department store, trying not to bump into the well-dressed ladies lining the sidewalks. She ran hard, struggling to catch her breath in the smoky air. A side stitch started to irritate her a few hundred feet from the train station, but she ignored it and pushed on.
As she climbed the steps to the station and burst through the heavy front doors of the brick building, she heard a shrill train whistle and the rhythmic chug of an engine. Her heart sank.
Sofie ran through the station and out to the platform where she came to an abrupt stop. She watched in despair as a train pulled away from the station on the southern track. It was headed in the opposite direction of Pittsburgh. She glanced up at the clock and felt a wave of disappointment. It was 8:31 a.m. Pole was gone.
“Would you like a muffin?” a gruff voice came from behind her.
Sofie turned around to find an old man holding a basket full of muffins, bearing a toothless grin. She tried not to look frightened when she noticed the thick scar trailing from his left eye to his jaw. He wore a dark patch over that eye, making Sofie wonder what atrocity hid beneath it. She suspected the mill was to blame for the poor man’s misfortune.
“I have banana and blueberry,” he said.
Sofie felt guilty that she was penniless. She dug through her pockets, hoping a nickel might magically appear. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have any money.”
“I’ll take a dozen. Six blueberry and six banana,” said a dark-haired woman in a shimmering green dress with matching stones dangling from her ears.
Sofie was spellbound by the dazzling green gems sparkling in the early morning sunlight. She couldn’t remember what they were called, but she knew they were expensive. She was used to seeing fancy ladies around Kaufmann’s department store, but none of them wore jewelry such as this. Sofie wondered what this woman was doing in Riverton.
“What kind of muffin would you like, young lady?” the woman asked.
Sofie looked around and, seeing no other young lady besides herself, said, “Who, me?”
The woman nodded and smiled.
“I’d like a blueberry one, but I don’t have any money.”
“No matter,” the woman said, handing the old man a few coins. “It’s my treat.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Sofie said as the old man handed her a muffin. As he counted out six blueberry and six banana muffins and placed them in a brown paper bag, another well-dressed woman appeared. She was much plumper than the woman in green. Her pretty blue dress looked like it was about to burst at the seams.
“Edith, darling, you must come back inside the station. A man is playing an accordion. He is quite good.”
“But Clara, Henry will be here at any minute.”
“He will have to enter the building to reach the platform, will he not?” the woman in blue said, tilting her head.
“I suppose,” the woman in green said, fingering her chin. “Very well then. Good day to you, sir, and to you, young lady,” she said as she turned toward the building.
As the women walked away, Sofie overheard the plumper one say, “This is such a peculiar town. It’s as if we have stepped into another country. I have never heard so many strange languages.”
Sofie popped the last bite of muffin into her mouth, wondering what had brought such wealthy women to Riverton. She turned to the muffin man for an answer, but he just shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
Suddenly, Sofie heard someone shouting, “Mama! Mama!” She quickly turned to follow the voice, as it sounded a lot like her little brother. She could not believe her eyes.
Lukas was running wildly along the platform next to a slowly moving train. It was heading north, in the direction of Pittsburgh. He struggled to keep up as he made repeated attempts to jump to the height of one of its windows. He seemed to be trying to get the attention of someone inside. The squeal of the train’s steel wheels combined with the hissing and chugging of the steam engine drowned out the eight-year-old’s cries.
Struggling to make sense of the situation, Sofie stared at the car Lukas was trailing. She could see a woman inside dressed in an expensive red dress and hat, but Sofie was too far away to see the woman’s face. She was certain her brother was confused.
Fearing for his safety, she raced after him. “Mama’s not here, Lukas. Stop running before you get hurt. Stop!”
The train began to pick up speed as it pulled away from the station. Sofie ran hard, trying to cover thirty yards in seconds. She bumped into an old woman and knocked over a stack of suitcases. She rushed by a dozen people, none of whom seemed concerned by her panic. Her brother was nearing the end of the platform and didn’t seem to notice the drop ahead of him.
Sofie cried out again from only a few feet away, “Stop, Lukas! Stop!”
The instant the words left her mouth, Lukas made a final heroic attempt to jump high enough
to reach the train’s window. He came close to hitting his target—his hand missing the glass by just inches. But when gravity forced his little body back to the ground, he lost his balance. His left foot landed firmly on the platform, while the other disappeared into the narrow space between the platform and the swiftly accelerating wheels of the train.
Sofie heard a blood-curdling scream, but wasn’t sure if it was Lukas’s or her own.
SEPTEMBER 1917
Twenty-One
POLE
ABBOTT’S HOLLOW, SEPTEMBER 24, 1917
Pole trudged down the muddy road through Abbott’s Hollow toward the mine entrance, relieved the rain had finally stopped. All weekend long, strong winds had brought down tree limbs while drenching downpours had created a small stream through the middle of the patch village’s main thoroughfare. The water was slowly drying up, but it would take days for the muck to harden. The little hollow nestled in the Allegheny Mountains always caught the runoff from the surrounding slopes, but this storm had been especially bad. The entire village appeared to have sunk several inches into the giant bowl of mud.
Pole looked down at the ground, a bizarre kaleidoscope of fall color. The storm had downed the autumn leaves prematurely, mixing them with layers of mud and rock. The yellows, oranges, and reds of the leaves were muted and partially covered in silt, but they were still sort of pretty. Pole loved the beauty of the fall season, but it was a bittersweet reminder that harsh winter weather was approaching.
He glanced at the ominous clouds overhead, hoping the sun would soon return. The dreary weather was ruining his mood. It was bad enough that the chimneys above Abbott’s Hollow spat flurries of coal ash at him every time he went outside. The stoves in the village were almost as dusty as the miners coming home from a shift underground.
Ashes and dust. There was no escaping them. Miners breathed them in—bathed in them—both day and night. Unwittingly, they became part of a coal miner’s soul. Darkening it. Suffocating it.
Beneath the Veil of Smoke and Ash Page 12