The Miner's Lady (3 page)

At seven the next morning, Dante, Orlando, and their father were back to work at the mine. The shifts ran in ten-hour segments, two shifts a day, every day but Sunday. Vittorio Calarco and his sons were contract miners. They handled dynamite and nitroglycerin—blasting holes in the iron ore to sink shafts or create the horizontal drifts. This dangerous job allowed them additional pay, for it required steady hands and even stronger nerves. Vittorio Calarco preferred it this way. He answered only to the mine's captain, as they called the big boss, but paid nominal heed to the instructions of the shift foreman. Luckily Dante's father liked the man whom he called “Mr. Foreman” in a sort of mock salute to the position.

What Dante's father did not like was the fact that Panettas worked in the same mine. Dante fervently hoped that their enemies might transfer to another mine. At best they were often working in one of the other four shafts. But even with five separate areas to work, their paths would cross and words would be exchanged. The latter was usually only between the two patriarchs, while their sons silently observed, watching and waiting lest one man or the other decide to do more than talk.

As Father stood instructing Orlando, Dante couldn't help but study his brother. He seemed so carefree, so unconcerned with his deception. Would he truly risk being ostracized from the family for the love of a woman?

“Are you going to help us or just stand there?”

Dante met his father's stern expression. “Tell me what you want done.”

“We will drill blasting points here and here,” his father said, pointing. The iron deposits were removed in a stoping
system that was well suited to the area's formations. Segments of ore were taken out parallel to the drift or horizontal shaft, creating a sort of stepped appearance at the top of the stope—the ever-expanding hollow created by the mining work. Underground iron miners always tried to let gravity work for them, using the overhand or upward method. This allowed the ore to fall to the bottom of the stope, and from there it would be scraped into chutes and loaded into the ore cars located below the floor of the work area. It was tedious work, often referred to as caving. Eventually all of the ore would be mined in that area, and the Calarcos would blast the surrounding rock to fill in the stope. The process went on and on in order to recover as much ore as possible.

Dante tried not to give much thought to the dangers they faced, though they were many. Walls of the stopes often collapsed without warning. Blasts could go off prematurely, although the Calarcos had not been victim of that due to their father's vigilant care in everything he did. Of course, just because they were careful didn't mean everyone else was. There were plenty of new muckers who had no idea of the risk.

Fires were always feared in the mines, but it was often accidents with the machinery or tram cars that caused injury and death. Dante had seen men lose fingers and feet because of being less than aware of their surroundings.

“This is no place to daydream,” his father admonished.

A knot of fear and embarrassment sat in his gut at his father's words. He knew better. “Sorry,” Dante said.

Father handed him a twisted roll of fuse. “Sorry will get you blown up, son.”

Dante met his brother's curious gaze. With a quick grin Orlando went back to work, mindless of what was truly bothering his older brother. They would simply have to settle this later, Dante determined, and pushed the problem to the back of his mind.

“Mama, we're going to Cormack's store to pick up that thread you wanted to make lace,” Isabella told their mother. “Do you need anything else?”

Chantel pulled on a wool coat she had just unpacked from the attic storage the night before. The fit was snug. The coat had been handed down to her long before her figure had filled out, and it was well past time to replace it with something new. Maybe she would sell some of her lace and order a new coat.

“We need more sugar,” Mama said, looking to the ceiling as though there were a list written there. “And see if we can purchase more eggs from Stanley's boardinghouse. They have the best eggs.”

“Sí, Mama.” Isabella kissed her mother on the cheek. “And do you want me to put it on account or take money?”

Mama went to the cupboard and pulled down a tin marked
Tea
. Chantel knew her parents, like most immigrants, didn't trust the banks. They hid their money around the house rather than trust it to strangers. The older woman pulled out some change from the tin and handed it to Isabella. “Pay for the eggs and charge the sugar to our account. Tell Mr. Cormack
to charge the silk thread, as well. Tell him we'll come tomorrow after your papa gets paid and settle the account.”

With that, the girls exited the house. Chantel secured a wool bonnet atop her carefully pinned brown hair. The temperatures had dropped again.

“At least the roads are hard now,” Isabella said, tying her own bonnet.

Chantel waited until they were a bit down the road to question her sister. “What are you up to, Isabella? You seemed very eager to run this errand.”

Isabella threw Chantel a grin. “I am going to meet Orlando behind the store. Being how it's Friday, Orlando's father will have to remain at the mine for a meeting, but Orlando and Dante will leave their shift early. They always stop in town for their Nonna on their way home. I want you to come along in case I need you to keep Dante occupied so that Orlando can slip away to meet me.”

Chantel frowned. She'd not seen the older Calarco son in some time. “What do you mean, ‘keep him occupied'?”

“You know, talk to him. Goodness, Chantel, you would think you'd never had a conversation with a young man.”

“And if he won't speak to me?”

Isabella rolled her eyes. “I'm sure you can find a way to intrigue him. Irritate him, if all else fails.”

She looked at Isabella in disbelief. “When did you become so conniving?”

Isabella laughed. “It's not conniving, it's just the way it is. Last time I had one of my friends stop Dante and ask him to help her carry a sack of potatoes. I do what I have to in order to meet my love.”

“Well, if it keeps you away from the mines, I'm all for that.”

“Most of the time Orlando can get away without arousing suspicion, but sometimes Dante seems to stick to him like glue. I've told Orlando it isn't a problem even if he can't meet me. I'll still show up. It's not like I have to walk very far.”

Living in town had its advantages. It was simple enough to walk to the stores and acquire the needed merchandise. There was no need for a horse or carriage, both of which required more upkeep and expense than Chantel's parents wanted to spend. Most of the miners walked to work for the same reason, and only the wealthier store owners and officials had horses and buggies.

Today the town was bustling. Mining towns were always noisy places, with the constant hum and rumble of machinery, blasting, and loading. The mining day shift would end in another hour or two, and then the town would really get busy. The whistle would sound and the night shift workers would make their way to the mines. While they took over the tasks at hand, the day shift workers would make their way home through town, and those who still had money from last week's pay would frequent the local businesses to purchase food, liquor, and other pleasures. For a price, most anything could be had. Chantel had even seen a Finnish sauna. There were a large number of Finns living and working in Ely, and most Finnish households sported some form of a sauna. It seemed only right that someone should utilize their popularity and make a business of it.

Chantel knew their mother was less than enthusiastic to have her unmarried daughters on the town's streets when the miners were getting off work, so they had assured her they
would make it back before the whistle blew to signal the end of the shift. Not only that, but the days were becoming shorter as winter approached, and already the skies were blending into evening twilight.

“There have been so many changes in the past year,” Chantel murmured. And the biggest change of all was Isabella's plans to marry. Chantel shook her head. Wasn't it just yesterday that her sister played with dolls?

They made their way to the general store and hurried inside to escape the brisk wind. “Well, if it isn't the Panetta sisters,” the clerk declared. “I had heard you were back home, Miss Chantel.” The older man smiled. “I suppose you'll be ordering more thread for tatting now.”

Chantel returned the smile. “Indeed. Mama said she had some black silk thread ordered. She felt confident it would have come in by now.”

“Yes, ma'am. I was going to have it delivered if she didn't send Miss Isabella over for it. I have it set aside in the back room. Was there anything else you were needing?”

Isabella touched her sister's coat sleeve. “I'm going to slip out back. I won't be long. If Dante shows up in here, be sure and keep him busy. Don't forget the sugar.”

She had no chance to protest, so Chantel merely looked back at the clerk. “Mama wanted some sugar. She asked that you put that and the thread on our account. She'll settle up tomorrow after Papa is paid.” Chantel thought of her coat. “Oh and I need to get a new coat. Do you have any in stock right now?”

“I do. There are several nice ladies' coats near the front of the store.” He pointed to the display window. “I also have
some new things we just got in. Christmas will soon be here, and we have some lovely items for gifts.”

Chantel nodded and made her way to the front. She looked over some embroidered gloves, several lovely enamel brooches, and a few cameos before she heard the store door open.

She turned and recognized Orlando Calarco, but he didn't even seem to notice her. Instead, he hurried toward the back of the store, disappearing out the same way Isabella had gone. Chantel stood transfixed for a moment, then turned her attention back to a selection of items for men. She tried hard to ignore what was taking place out back. Focusing on Christmas and her brothers instead, Chantel decided the heavy leather gloves and warm woolen caps might well be something her brothers would need. She had brought each family member a Christmas present from Italy, but something practical might well be appreciated, as well. She'd speak to Mama about it and see what she and Papa had planned.

She looked the coats over and found a dark burgundy wool that suited her well. It was trimmed in black and looked to be just her size. She would have the clerk hold it for her. Taking it to the counter, she checked the price and winced. It was nearly nine dollars. She would have to sell a good amount of her tatting to help offset the cost.

“Here you are,” the clerk said, returning with her sugar and thread.

Chantel handed him the coat. “I wonder if you would hold this for me. I need to sell some tatting and make certain Papa approves the purchase of this expensive an item.” She smiled. “I know he will, but it's always best to ask.”

The clerk smiled. “I will trust you for it. It's too cold to
be without a good coat, and I see that one is getting quite worn. You take it now, and I will put it on a separate account for you. When you get your tatting money, you can pay me.”

Chantel thanked him and waited while he folded it neatly into a box and tied it off with string. When he brought it back to the counter, he placed the box beside the sugar and thread. “So how was your trip abroad? Was it good?”

“It was wonderful. I very much enjoyed spending the year with my Nonna and Nonno in Italy. They have a lovely house up on a hill that looks down over the little town where we walked to the market and church. It was quite beautiful.”

“And warm?”

“In the summer, it was paradise. Winter was . . . well . . . winter. We had a bit of snow, but not a great deal. When the weather was nice, however, we were outside as much as possible. I found it very hard to leave.”

“You aren't sorry to have returned to Ely, are you?” he asked with a hint of admonition in his tone. “You know, we have some very nice things to offer here, as well. Lake Shagawa was the scene of some good times this summer, and the ice is very nearly thick enough to begin winter skating. And you might want to know there's a new ladies' snowshoe club that formed just last winter. The young ladies plan outings together and go for winter walks.”

Chantel picked up the sugar and thread and smiled. “I'm not much for the cold. I prefer a hot, sunny day, myself.”

Just then three women entered the store, chattering up a storm about some problem they were seeking to resolve. Chantel grabbed the coat box and took the opportunity to slip out as the clerk welcomed the ladies and found himself
drawn into the fracas. She had all but forgotten her assigned task, however, when she walked straight into Dante Calarco.

“Pardon me. I'm so sorry,” she said, glancing up to meet his surprised expression. For a moment his features were welcoming, but just as quickly they changed as he recognized her.

“Miss Panetta,” he said. The words sounded forced.

“Mr. Calarco.” She eyed him with a false sense of confidence.

His dark eyes seemed to scrutinize her face as if looking for some flaw. Chantel felt her poise begin to slip. She knew she would have to take charge of the situation. She held her position in front of the store's entryway.

“I've just returned from Italy.” She knew it wouldn't matter to him, but she continued. “Have you ever made the trip?”

He shook his head. “Been busy working since I was sixteen. I don't have time for such luxuries.”

She gave him a curt nod of acknowledgment. “Well, it is a luxury to be certain. I very much enjoyed the time with family.”

He said nothing for a moment, then gave a shrug. “If you don't mind, I'm looking for my brother.”

“Your brother?” Chantel questioned. “I sometimes forget you have a brother.”

“There's no need for you to either remember or forget it. As you will recall, our families are not exactly on speaking terms.”

She gave a laugh. “Well, we're standing here speaking, so I suppose we've broken with that tradition. I always felt it was a silly one, anyway.”

“You would. I've not yet known a Panetta to honor family in the same way we Calarcos do.”

Chantel felt her ire rise. “Now, just a minute, Mr. Calarco. My family is a very honorable one. I simply feel that God's desire for us to live at peace with one another is far more honorable.”

“You sound like my brother.” He pushed past her to go into the store.

“Then he's a good deal smarter than you,” she called after him, remembering Isabella's comment to irritate Dante if all else failed.

Dante turned and narrowed his eyes. “You sound as if you'd like to perpetuate the feud. Insulting me certainly isn't any way to make friends.”

Chantel shrugged. “I wasn't attempting to insult you, but to speak the truth. I believe God's Word makes it clear we aren't to bear grudges, but rather are to bear one another's burdens.”

“Will you preach an entire sermon here in the cold?” he asked, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Knowing she had to do whatever she could to keep him from searching out Orlando, Chantel smiled. “Mr. Calarco, I am hardly preaching. No, I am simply stating that it seems uncalled for that we should be at odds. Our families might have had troubles in the past, but there is certainly no need to continue that now. America is the land of new beginnings. Perhaps it will take a new generation to put aside our differences. Especially now.”

“What's so special about now?” Dante replied, looking at her oddly.

Chantel was momentarily taken off guard. There was no way she would betray her sister's trust. “Especially now . . .
that you and I . . .” She tried hard to regain control of her thoughts. “Especially now that you and I have met like this . . . and discussed the matter.” She squared her shoulders and looked at him with what she hoped was an air of confidence.

He shook his head. “I thought perhaps you were going to say now that your sister has seduced my younger brother into thinking he should marry her.”

Her eyes widened, and any denials caught in her throat.

“I'm glad you're not attempting to tell me you know nothing about it,” Dante continued. “Lying wouldn't fit with your desire to follow the Good Book.”