The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,62

the afternoon.

While he ate his sandwich, pickled beets, and cookies, those around him chatted and laughed, much the way the workers from Tuckett’s Pass and Boone’s Hollow did on their morning drive to the mine. But Emmett didn’t join in. Talking took energy he didn’t have. He swallowed the last bite of cookie, then checked the big round clock on the side of the firehouse. He stifled another groan. Five more minutes of the lunch break, and then he’d have to go in and pick up his shovel.

Paw got to his feet. “Gonna get me a drink an’ visit the outhouse. Prob’ly won’t see you again until end o’ the day.” He pointed at him. “Stay strong.”

“Yes, sir.” Emmett rested his elbows on his knees and let his head dangle, stretching the tight muscles in his back. A shadow fell across him, and then a hand clamped over his shoulder. He looked up.

One of the men who’d seemed to poke fun at him earlier grinned down at him. “You Tharp’s son?”

Emmett nodded.

“They put you on the shovel crew?”

He nodded again.

“Thought so when I seen him tendin’ to you an’ then got a look at your blisters. Them’re shovel blisters, for sure. Why didn’t you buy your equipment before you started?”

Emmett stood and folded his arms over his chest. He was too worn out to fight anybody, but he wasn’t in the mood to be ridiculed, either, not even by a man twenty pounds heavier and probably as old as Paw. “I only got hired this morning. No one told me to buy equipment.”

The fellow pulled a pair of leather gloves from his belt. “Common sense says you oughta wear gloves if you’re usin’ a shovel.” He smacked his palm with the gloves in rhythmic whacks. Dust rose with every whack.

“Yeah, well, I guess I didn’t take the course on mining common sense at the University of Kentucky.” He hadn’t intended to be snide. Maw would gasp in disapproval, and even Paw would give Emmett a foul look if he heard Emmett talk so disrespectfully to one of his elders. He braced himself for backlash, but the man burst out laughing.

“Lemme educate you a little bit here, college boy. Pushin’ a shovel causes friction. Friction causes blisters. Blisters can get infected. Infections keep you from workin’. So, it all comes down to needin’ gloves.” He flicked the gloves against Emmett’s middle.

Emmett automatically took hold of them.

“Put ’em on. But not ’til you’ve seen the mine physician an’ had him clean an’ bandage those sores. After work, get yourself to the company store an’ buy your own.”

Emmett fingered the worn gloves. “I don’t have money.”

The man snorted. “You’re a mine employee now, aren’t you? They’ll put it against your comin’ pay. Get at least two pairs.” He dropped his attention to Emmett’s feet. “Get some boots, too. Them shoes you’re wearin’ might be fine for Sunday mornin’ church, but they won’t hold up over time in the mine.”

The whistle blared, and everyone started toward the mine opening. The man drew Emmett away from the flow and pointed in the direction of the physician’s shack. He hollered, “Go see the doc. I’ll let Stead know where you are. If you don’t see me at the end o’ the day, give him my gloves. He’ll make sure I get ’em back.” The whistle faded down to a shrill hiss.

Emmett waved the gloves. “I sure appreciate this, Mister…Mister…”

The man grinned. “Just call me Teach.” He took off at a trot and joined the others returning to the shafts.

With his hands bandaged and the borrowed gloves in place, Emmett made it through the day. His afternoon productivity didn’t match the morning, though. The gloves were a little big, making it harder to grip the shovel, so he couldn’t scoop as much. But remembering Paw’s admonition that a man keeps going and Maw’s penchant for quoting Philippians 4:13 about doing all with Jesus’s strength, he lasted the full day.

Paw and the others went to the bathhouse when the quitting whistle sang, but Emmett looked for Teach. In the crowd of milling dust-covered men, the fellow didn’t stand out, so Emmett handed off the gloves to Stead and made his way to the company store. It’d been a few years since he’d been in the store owned by US Steel. Like the last time he’d been there, the shelves were stocked with choices. Lots of shoppers browsed the different areas. All the sales personnel were busy