Chapter 2
Women, children, and a few elderly men gathered on their porches and watched as Lilly and Mr. James hurried down Skip Rock’s main street on their way to the accident.
“Stanley!” one old fellow called out. “Is it a bad un?”
Mr. James never slowed down. “Don’t know yet, Otis. I heard the whistle same time you did.”
“If ’tis, you’ll be needing a real doc,” Otis hollered at their backs. “That poser ain’t gonna do no good.”
“Don’t I know it,” Mr. James said under his breath.
Lilly hoped he hadn’t meant for her to hear him. If she wasn’t so scared, she might have taken offense. She’d heard those same sentiments expressed in many different words all the while she was at university. She’d even caused an organized protest among the male students early on. Some had marched on campus with signs proclaiming,
A woman’s place is in the home
and
Fair sex. Weak mind.
She thanked the good Lord for Dr. Coldiron, who had put a stop to the shenanigans with warnings of expulsion. Theirs.
She didn’t have time to rehash that, though, for they were passing the giant wooden coal tipple and fast approaching the portal of the number 4 mine.
A man covered in coal dust met them at the entrance, carrying a lantern in each hand. His eyes shone brightly from his darkened face. He hardly gave Lilly a glance, directing his few words at Mr. James. “It’s Darrell,” he said. “Roof fell.”
“Bad?”
“Reckon he’ll lose a leg if he don’t bleed out first.”
Mr. James turned his back on Lilly. “Hold on,” he said.
Lilly stayed behind while Mr. James followed the fellow a few steps into the mine. She heard him give an exasperated snort.
“Are you coming or what?”
“I thought you said to wait.”
“What I said was ‘Hold on.’” He ran one finger under the wide leather tool belt buckled at his waist. “Grab ahold of this and don’t let go. Myrtie will pitch a fit if I lose you.”
Lilly did as she was told, clutching his belt with one hand and her doctor’s bag with the other.
“Women!” Mr. James went on. “This morning I said ‘shake a leg’ to Myrtie and she went off like a busted cocklebur.”
“I got you,” the other man said. “My old lady’s ornery as Job’s off ox.”
“Tell you the honest truth, Bob, it’s like they speak a different tongue,” Mr. James said derisively, as if Lilly were deaf and not clinging to him by his belt.
The air inside closed around them like a thick, damp curtain. Men who looked like stoop-shouldered gray ghosts walked past single file.
“I ordered everbody out that don’t need to be in,” Bob said. “I figured that’s what you’d want, Stanley.”
“Yeah.”
The floor slanted downward as they walked through a twisting man-made tunnel. Lilly could feel the strain on her knees. She had to pace herself to keep from bumping into Mr. James. The ceiling seemed to be getting lower and lower, the cave darker and darker. The lamps cast feeble yellow light at their feet. Mr. James and Bob walked with their heads below their shoulders, like turtles. Soon Lilly was stooping also. Her chest tightened with fear; she had a dread of closed-in places.
A memory of her grandfather in his coffin overtook her. She had screamed when the lid was closed and refused to go to the cemetery for the burial. How could anyone stand and watch as dirt thudded down on their loved one? Now she wanted to scream again. Scream and flee. But how would she ever find her way out alone?
“Mr. James,” she gasped, “I can’t breathe.”
He didn’t even stop. “Sure you can. You just go in and out. In and out.”
In and out,
she chanted in her mind.
In and out.
Bob flashed his light on a small wire cage that sat on a shelf rock. A yellow canary stared back. Lilly was appalled. Poor little bird.
Without thinking, she let go of the belt and approached the cage. “Why would this bird be here?”
“Bird’s dead, we’re dead,” Mr. James said.
How did they know the bird wouldn’t die of loneliness or fright? Lilly wondered, hooking herself back up to Mr. James.
“Unh. Unh. Unh.”
Low grunts accosted them from somewhere up ahead.
“Darrell’s still drawing air,” Bob said.
“Yeah.”
They arrived at a wide vestibule-like area, where a rock had indeed fallen on the miner. Darrell was lying in a narrow passageway that shot off the backside of the vestibule. The rock effectively plugged the passageway. All Lilly could see of Darrell was one bare foot. His boot lay on its side as if he’d just popped it off. But his low moans added urgency to the scene.
Several men worked on shoring up the roof on their side of the site with timbers, but as far as Lilly could ascertain, nobody was doing anything to help the fallen man.
“Did you bring a doc?” one man asked.
Mr. James stepped aside. As lamps were raised, all eyes seemed to be on Lilly.
“You’re joshing,” a man said.
“Nah,” Mr. James said. “The company sent her.”
One man spat on the floor. “They sent a skirt? Shows what
the company
thinks we’re worth.”
“That’s right,” another said. “Mules. We ain’t got no more rights than mules. No telling what will happen now.”
The men’s anger swirled, mingling with the coal dust, settling on Lilly like poison. She knew the superstition about a woman in the mine bringing bad luck, but didn’t they realize their bad luck had already come about? How could her being among them make it any worse?
“Bring a light,” she said, kneeling at the fallen man’s foot. Her hands probed his ankle for a pulse. It was faint, but it was there. “Is anybody over there with him?”
“We can’t get around,” Bob said, holding his lamp down for Lilly. “Even Billy here couldn’t pass through.”
Thin to the point of gaunt, Billy didn’t look old enough to grow whiskers. He had no business in this place.
“Has anybody tried to move it?”
“We was waiting on Stanley,” Bob said. “He’s the face boss.” He squatted next to Lilly and lowered his voice. “We don’t know what will happen when we move that thing. If it goes the wrong way . . .”
Lilly caught his drift. It could fall backward over the trapped man, crushing him.
She watched Mr. James study the predicament. His stubbly beard rasped when he ran his hand over his chin. He motioned for Bob and Lilly to move aside before he crouched down. “There’s a few inches’ space either side of Darrell’s foot. We could jack the rock up, I expect.”
“Could someone climb over?” Lilly asked.
“Too dangerous,” Mr. James said.
“I wouldn’t mind to try.”
“Danger’s not to you.”
Lilly’s face flamed. She was glad for the dimmed light. How silly of her. If she climbed atop the rock, the pressure would increase on Darrell. Maybe she should just keep still.
Noises louder than Darrell’s filled the cavern. It sounded like the mountain itself was groaning. Dust streamed down, dancing in the lamplight. Men ducked and ran for cover while Lilly stood stunned. What was happening?
Mr. James grabbed her hand, but she tripped over her britches and fell. He dropped beside her and covered her head with his arm as pieces of shale rained around them. Then all was ominously quiet—until Darrell screamed, “Don’t leave me here to die alone!”
Mr. James stood and hauled Lilly up. “I understand if you want to leave,” he said. “The rest of the ceiling could give way any second.”
“I’m staying,” she said. Shaken into action, she slithered into a narrow space between one side of the rough slab of rock and the wall. She went in sideways. There wasn’t even room to bend her arms. “Hand me a lantern,” she said.
“Careful you don’t set yourself ablaze,” Mr. James said while passing the lantern to her.
With a sidestep shuffle she maneuvered along the cramped space. Halfway there, a piece of the rock stuck out like an arm, blocking her. Alarm prickled like pinpricks up and down her arms. What if she got stuck? There was nothing for it but to slide back out.
Mr. James shone his light into the space. “Are you all right?”
“A piece of the rock impedes me,” she said. “I don’t think I can get through.”
“Don’t leave,” Darrell whimpered. “Don’t leave me.”
“Lord, be with us,” Lilly prayed. “Please help me.”
Pressing her back against the wall, she slid down. With her knees up under her chin, she inched herself, her bag, and the lantern underneath the outcropping. Her scalp scraped against the jagged stone. A lock of her hair caught tight. She couldn’t reach up to untangle it, so she jerked her head sideways and nearly cried out from the tearing pain. Her outstretched arms felt like lead weights, but she made it. She could see the passage dead-ended a few yards from where Darrell was trapped. Bent nearly double, she shuffled over to the fallen miner.
“I’m in,” she shouted as she shone the light on Darrell’s face.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m a doctor,” Lilly said. “I’m here to help you.”
“Am I going to die?”
Lilly took a good look at the rock. It effectively pinned his shin to the ground. He might lose his lower leg, but otherwise he seemed unscathed. “No, Darrell, you’re not.”
“What’s it look like over there?” Mr. James called.
“The rock is thinner on the downward side. It’s caught his left leg below the knee.”
“Set your lantern down by his leg so’s I can see its shine.”
Lilly brushed pebbles from the floor and put the lamp down.
“Yep, there it is,” Mr. James said. “I’m passing a stout pole through. Holler when it clears.”
In less than a minute a piece of timber inched past Darrell’s knee.
“We’re going to lift the rock a fraction. You see if you can pull Darrell free.”
“Wait until I say. I’m going to apply a tourniquet first.”
Lilly snapped open her kit and removed a length of India-rubber tubing. Darrell turned his head to the side and watched.
“I’m just going to pass this under your leg, Darrell. It won’t hurt.”
Darrell gritted his teeth. “It ain’t like I’d notice. It’s already as full of pain as a rain barrel’s full of wiggle tails.”
If the situation had not been so dire, Lilly would have laughed. Darrell had a way with words.
Carefully, she slipped the tubing under his thigh, wound it round tightly above the knee, and secured it.
“What’s that for?” Darrell asked.
“Right now the pressure from the rock is cutting off your circulation. When it’s lifted, the blood will flow again. This tourniquet will keep you from bleeding too much.”
The fearsome overhead groaning started up again. Dirt sifted down.
“Get a move on,” Mr. James hollered.
Lilly took a kneeling position at Darrell’s head and put her hands under his armpits, ready to haul him loose. “All set!”
The rock inched upward. Lilly pulled. Darrell didn’t budge. She bemoaned her slightness. She didn’t have the strength for the task. “You’re going to have to help me, Darrell. Bend your good leg and push yourself backward while I pull.”
Working together, they managed to free his foot. “It worked, Mr. James! He’s loose!”
“Listen close, little gal,” Mr. James said from the other side of the rock. “We’re going to hoist this thing again, and when we do, you need to put your hands in the middle of the rock and shove it this way.”
The ceiling creaked like rusty hinges and loose pebbles pinged against the floor behind her. “I’ll try,” she said.
“It don’t need muscle. Just set your mind to it,” Mr. James said. “Trust me.”
Cold sweat broke out across Lilly’s forehead. Gingerly she touched the rough surface of the obstacle. How could Mr. James and the other men get out of the way in time? What if the boulder fell on them? What if it came her way? “Move back as far as you can, Darrell,” she said and squared her shoulders.
“Ready?” Mr. James said.
“Ready!”
The rock teetered on the pole. “Push, gal, push!”
All her strength centered on the solid rock, Lilly took a deep breath and pushed. With a loud thunk the barrier smashed into the vestibule, breaking into ragged chunks. Lilly could see Mr. James and Bob and another man standing free. The others had left.
“Come out of there, Doc,” Mr. James said.
“I can’t leave my patient,” she said.
“We’re coming for him soon as you’re out. Hurry up now.”
Grabbing her doctor’s kit and the lamp, Lilly scrambled overtop the rubble. Mr. James and Bob hurried to Darrell and lifted him into a two-man sling they made with crossed arms. The third man held his lantern up and guided them as they went. It was a difficult thing to do—carrying a grown man over a pile of rubble while stooped.
“Get on now!” Mr. James said. “Don’t tarry.”
Lilly started running.
“Watch your feet!” Mr. James wheezed the words. “They’s holes you could fall in.”
Lilly watched her feet. She was so scared, she thought they’d not even touch the ground. But there was the bird. She couldn’t just leave it to die. She could hear the men coming as she shoved her kit under the arm that held the lantern and snatched the cage on the fly. Timber crashed and the sound of falling rock rolled up the mine like thunder. Dust filled her nose as dense as cotton batting. She strained to breathe until finally she was out. The men followed shortly.
Someone handed her a cup of water. It was cold and tasted of rock and coal and smoke. It was delicious.
She drank it down, then turned to Darrell. The tourniquet needed attention. Loosening it, she watched for blood flow. Satisfied, she tightened the tubing again. Some men hurried up with a stretcher and laid Darrell on it. They covered his body with a woolen blanket. Lilly removed it, rolled it, and used it to prop up Darrell’s foot so that it was higher than his heart.
“I need to tend to this,” she said. “Take him to the surgery.”
Lilly followed the stretcher. A tall man with broad shoulders and coal-black hair walked alongside her. He carried her kit and cupped her elbow. She thought to shake his hand off, not wanting to appear weak, but truthfully, she was glad for the support.