Page 6 of Our Own Light

“Yeah, well, he wouldn’t last in the boarding house. Trust me.”

“Why do you allow he’s here? Sounds like he has money.”

“Coming out of his ears, I suspect,” Floyd confirmed. “I wonder if he was forced to leave home. He kind of made it sound that way. Said he wanted to start a new life.”

“Ah, so that’s why you stepped in to help him.”

Floyd shifted uncomfortably. “Nah, I was helping him before that,” he said, though he knew that Effie was on to something.

Josephine piped up. “What do you mean by that, Mama?”

“Nothing, baby,” Effie said, petting Josephine’s hair. “Make sure you eat your coleslaw.”

Floyd returned his attention to the food in hopes that Effie wouldn’t keep pressing, especially now that Josephine had reminded them both that she was listening. While Floyd had initially only helped Oliver because he was feeling sort of bad for him (and for Charlie), he couldn’t pretend that Effie’s comment was empty of truth. Oliver saying that he had come to Rock Creek to start a new life had caught Floyd’s interest for certain.

Thinking back on it now, Floyd’s stomach started to feel a little fluttery. Who’d have thought that someone like Oliver might show up in their little coal town?

Over the next couple of minutes, Floyd started thinking of his hometown and how he and Effie had been forced to leave. Sadness came over him—one so heavy it was making his body feel heavy, too. Moving the coleslaw with his fork, Floyd started wondering about his folks—how they were, whether they still owned their farm, whether they had been forced to sell their land to one of the coal companies—and heaved a sigh, forcing the memories away. Within a heartbeat, his thoughts returned to Oliver instead.

Chapter Two

Oliver

Oliver woke up late. Well, not late, really, but much later than he had intended for his first shift at the mines. Glancing at his watch, Oliver supposed he could still make it to work on time if he left without eating breakfast. But that wouldn’t be smart, would it? He needed the energy. Especially since he hadn’t ever worked before. Helping his father with finances barely constituted a job. Not when compared to something like coal mining, anyway.

Sitting up, Oliver stretched his arms over his head and looked around the bedroom—mostly bare, save for the full-size bed, a small desk, an empty bookcase (which he had every intent of filling sooner or later, even if it required a couple of trips to Charleston), and half of his luggage (the other half was still piled up in the main room).

As Oliver walked to the living space, he remembered that he’d have to venture outside to relieve himself. He’d had indoor plumbing back in New York City, but there weren’t many homes like that in Rock Creek. Well, even if his home was lacking in plumbing, it was still probably better than the boarding house. Good thing James Donohue was a businessman. Oliver hadn’t been able to reach Frederick, but James had been able to be convinced, with the help of a bit of money, to follow Oliver back to the company store and have Charlie set him up in one of the recently vacant single-family homes.

After Oliver finished relieving himself, he fetched some water from the water pump to wash up in the basin and then changed into what would have to be his temporary work clothes—an old pair of tan slacks and his least favorite button-up shirt.

Even though Oliver had remembered to buy everything else he’d need for his first shift—blasting caps and powder, a pickaxe, an oil lamp, and a shovel—he had forgotten to purchase more suitable work clothing. He’d have to visit the company store later to find a pair of overalls, maybe, and some better work boots. He still had plenty of money left. Too much, probably, for him to need to be a miner, but he liked the idea of earning money for a change. Coal mining would be such an adventure, too. And Rock Creek was the perfect place for him to try it. Since the town was unincorporated, his parents would have a harder time ever finding him. God, he couldn’t stomach the thought of his father someday contacting him, only to shame him for not wanting to follow in his footsteps.

After eating a simple breakfast of puffed rice cereal—sans milk—Oliver packed up his work tools and headed toward the mine. During his short walk, Oliver tried to enjoy the wildflowers—sporadic patches of blueish-purple flowers and bright yellow ones behind the rows of houses.

Unfortunately, Oliver’s pleasant walk was followed by a very unpleasant elevator ride into the mine. God, the shaking was scary. During the descent, Oliver kept wondering if it was safe. When Oliver reached the bottom, he was surprised to see that no one else was around. Well, no one except for a boy who was manning the tunnel entrance, one who couldn’t have been more than ten, which was kind of strange. Wasn’t the legal working age fourteen? Or maybe thirteen? Whatever it was, it sure as hell couldn’t have been ten. Oliver put on his friendliest smile and approached the boy, who was eyeing him with suspicion.

“Hi,” Oliver said, feeling woefully unprepared for this interaction. “I thought I might find a fellow miner or two out here, but it seems like everyone is already hard at work. Not that you aren’t a miner, too, of course. Shit. Sorry.”

“You ain’t one of Chafin’s men, are you?”

“Who?”

“Good,” the boy said, seemingly satisfied with Oliver’s non-answer. “You need to take your tab off the brass board.”

“Tab?” Oliver asked before suddenly remembering. “Oh!” Frederick had mentioned the brass board when Oliver had eaten lunch with him in Charleston. Oliver tried to remember his number. One hundred thirteen? Thirteen was a fairly unfortunate number to have been assigned, especially since Oliver knew he’d need all the luck he could find to make a life for himself out here, but hopefully the “one hundred” would make the “thirteen” matter less. He walked over to the board and found the hook with brass circles numbered 113, but for some reason, there were two little tabs, not one. He walked back over to the entrance. “Why are there two?”

When the boy subsequently smacked his forehead head with his palm, Oliver realized what a monumentally naïve question that must have been.

“Before you head inside, you take one tab with you. When you come back, you match it with its twin.”

“Oh, I see. Clever. Gotta keep tabs on everyone.”

Silence.

Feeling a little silly for what had apparently been a misplaced attempt at humor, Oliver walked back to the brass board, took his tab, and shoved it into his pocket. After the boy opened the door, Oliver crept inside. Anxious excitement buzzed beneath his skin. As soon as it shut behind him, he realized that he had no idea where he was supposed to go or what he was supposed to do. Hopefully, he could find someone who would be willing to show him the ropes.

Touching one hand to his shoulder strap to reassure himself that his pack was still present, Oliver started down the corridor. It was fascinating the way it was laid out like a little city. Some roads were wider than others, some branched off in one direction only to circle back to the main avenue, and some were occupied while others were empty. Oliver passed several men who were hard at work shoveling coal into cars, which looked like something he would be capable of, even on his first morning, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to try to talk to them.

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