Coal River (18 page)

Then Frank stopped in front of a set of double doors and knocked. A low rumbling voice instructed them to enter. Frank pushed open the pocket doors, slid them into the wall, and stood back, motioning for her to go through first.

Inside the tall-ceilinged room, Mr. Flint sat behind a wagon-sized mahogany desk, smoking a cigar. He stood when they entered, and offered Emma a seat in one of the padded chairs. Frank took a spot next to a row of high bookcases, his feet apart and his arms crossed. Framed photographs covered every inch of the peach-colored walls—trains, coal cars, breakers, mules, miners, and men in suits shaking hands.

“How are you enjoying Coal River, Miss Malloy?” Mr. Flint said.

She clasped her hands on her lap to keep them from shaking. “I’m not here on holiday, Mr. Flint.”

“Of course not,” he said. “I was just wondering if you’d come to appreciate all your uncle and aunt have done for you. Sometimes you have to make the best of a less than ideal situation.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she said.

“Did you enjoy the carnival?” he said.

“Is that why you wanted to see me?” she said. “To ask if I like living in Coal River and if I enjoyed the carnival? I thought this was about the breaker boys?”

He grinned. “Touché,” he said. “I can see nothing gets by you, Miss Malloy. So let’s get down to business. I’m sure Captain Bannister has told you that ten breaker boys have run away with the carnival. Their mothers are upset, and some are blaming you for filling their heads with ideas. But that is neither here nor there. What’s done is done.”

“Then why did you bring me here?” she said. “What do you want?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll ask the questions.” Mr. Flint leaned back in his seat, holding his cane across his thighs, one age-spotted hand gripping the gold head. “How well do you know Clayton Nash?”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat. “Why are you asking?”

Mr. Flint sat forward, banging the end of his cane on the floor. “Clayton Nash,” he said. “Tell me what you know about him.” Despite trying to hide it, he was clearly angry now. She had the feeling he was a man who hadn’t had to conceal his emotions in a very long time.

She shook her head, trying to hide the tempest of thoughts whirling inside her mind. “Nothing,” she said. “I mean . . . I just met him. We’ve barely said two words to each other.” Thunder crashed outside, rumbling like a train above the mansion.

“Do you have a habit of riding the Ferris wheel with men you hardly know?” he said. Then he winked, one crusty eyelid lowering. His swift change of mood was bewildering, and she wondered if it was intentional. She wanted to grab his cane and knock the self-satisfied grin off his face.

“You must be confusing me with someone else,” she said. “I can’t ride the Ferris wheel. I’m afraid of heights.”

“Lying won’t help your situation.”

“My situation?” she said. “Excuse me for asking, but what exactly is my situation? And why would I have any reason to lie?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’m afraid you’re wasting your—”

“There’s unrest in this town, and it’s not a waste of time to warn newcomers to watch themselves. I’m a family man, and my workers are part of that family. So I’m especially concerned when a member of my supervisor’s family gets involved with the wrong man.”

“I’m not involved with anyone,” she said. “So as you can see, you are, indeed, wasting your time. And I don’t see how the unrest in Coal River has anything to do with me.” Outside, the storm rumbled and crashed, lighting up the rain-streaked windows.

“Clayton Nash is a dangerous man. And we have reason to believe he might be bringing in members of a fraternal organization called the Ancient Order of Hibernians, which is a cover for the cutthroat gang, the Molly Maguires.”

“Like I said, you’re wasting your time. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Forgive me,” he said, forcing a smile. “Perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me ask you this. Did Captain Bannister tell you what’s been happening in Coal River since you arrived?”

She shook her head.

Just then, someone knocked on the door behind her.

“Enter!” Mr. Flint shouted, making her jump.

The doors slid open and Mr. Flint’s son, Levi, came into the room. “Excuse me for interrupting,” he said. “But I’m afraid we’ve got a problem over at the—” Then he saw Emma and stopped short, his forehead furrowed in confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company. Hello, Miss Malloy. It’s nice to see you again.”

She nodded once to acknowledge him, wondering briefly if he could help her.

“What is it?” Mr. Flint said, irritated.

“There’s a problem with one of the engines in pump house number nine,” Levi said.

“I’m aware of it,” Mr. Flint said.

“So it’s been taken care of?”

“No,” Mr. Flint said. “I told you yesterday, we’ll run her until she shuts down.”

“I know what you said, but the engine house foreman is worried.”

“Do you have any idea how much it costs to replace a pump house engine?”

“Yes,” Levi said. “But if we don’t, someone could get injured or killed.”

“If there’s anything I understand,” Mr. Flint said, “it’s the machinery in the colliery. That old girl has a lot of life left in her, and I plan on getting every penny’s worth.” He shook his head. “As usual, you’re just like your mother, thinking with your heart, not your head. Now stick to the payroll and selling our coal, and let me take care of the rest.”

“Yes, Father,” Levi said. “Good day, Miss Malloy.” He nodded once at Frank, then left the room.

Again, Emma wondered how Levi could be Mr. Flint’s son. From everything she had heard and seen—his polite demeanor at the Fourth of July dance, his apology for his father’s behavior, his generosity at the carnival—it was hard to believe they were related, let alone father and son. Briefly, she thought about Mr. Flint’s second boy, the newborn who had been kidnapped. If he was still alive, had he grown up to be more like Hazard, or like Viviane? And if he hadn’t been taken all those years ago, would he be here now, helping run the mines? Would he have tried to change things, or would Levi have been outnumbered? Maybe if he hadn’t been kidnapped, Mr. Flint would have stepped down and she wouldn’t be sitting here.

With Levi gone from the room, Mr. Flint directed his attention back to her. “As I was saying,” he said. “In a span of three days, one of my mine bosses was found in the woods with his throat cut, a missing miner was found dead in an abandoned mine shaft, and another man, a good man, was found shot to death behind a saloon. In the last two weeks, two more men have come up missing.”

Goose bumps rose along Emma’s arms. She wasn’t sure how to react. Was this a confession or a threat? And what was going on in this town?

She glanced at Frank. “It sounds to me like your police force is not doing a very good job.”

Frank uncrossed his arms and moved toward her, his face contorted with anger. “Clayton and his gang are a bunch of sneaky—”

Mr. Flint put up a hand to silence him. Frank returned to his place by the bookcase, blotches of color still blooming in his cheeks. Outside, the storm rumbled in the distance, finally moving over the mountains.

“We think Clayton Nash and the Molly Maguires had something to do with the murders,” Mr. Flint said. “The Mollies are a secret society of miners who use violence to undermine coal companies. We haven’t had trouble with them in a number of years, but they’re making a comeback. In other mining towns, they’ve been arrested and hanged for murder, arson, and kidnapping.”

Emma felt something shift inside her head, as if she’d found a piece of a puzzle she didn’t know was missing. Could she have been wrong about Clayton? Was that why he wouldn’t admit he was holding secret meetings? Being a miner didn’t automatically make him innocent of wrongdoing, but was he desperate enough to resort to violence? Granted, Mr. Flint was underhanded and vile, but two wrongs don’t make a right.
No,
she thought.
I saw Hazard Flint and his henchmen murder those men. I can’t trust anything he says.

“I still don’t understand why you’re telling me any of this,” she said.

“We think Clayton is planning something,” he said. “And if that happens, there could be more bloodshed. We have to stop it before it starts. But we need help. We need someone to get close to him.”

Emma’s eyes went wide. “And you want me to . . . ?”

Mr. Flint nodded.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I won’t do it.”

“I’ll pay you. Bring me word of any upcoming meetings or strikes, and I’ll give you fifty dollars. A hundred more after the ringleaders are arrested.”

Emma drew in a sharp breath. With that much money, she could get away from her aunt and uncle. She could go back to New York, find an apartment and look for a job, or go back to school to become a teacher. She could escape Coal River forever. Then she remembered her students, the way their faces lit up when they wrote their names for the very first time. She remembered the breaker boys, and how she had vowed to help them. She remembered poor Nicolas, and his grieving family. She remembered Clayton and Jack and Sawyer. If she turned her back on them for money, she’d be just as guilty as Hazard Flint.

“No,” she said again. “Absolutely not. I don’t care how much you would pay me. I’m not involved in any of this, and I don’t want to be.”

A baleful smile touched Mr. Flint’s lips. “But you’re already involved. You’re gaining the trust of the miners’ families, and you’re friendly with Clayton Nash. If you’re not on my side, I’ll consider you on theirs.”

She went quiet. Did he know she had been sneaking up to the miners’ village, asking questions and teaching the children to read? If so, why hadn’t he said something about it? Maybe he enjoyed making her squirm. Resolve solidified inside her. Somehow she had to stop this man. She leaned forward and looked him in the eyes.

“Maybe you can explain something to me,” she said. “Why are there sides in the first place? Why does it have to be you against them?” She was trying to sound tough, but it wasn’t a tough voice. It was an angry, frightened voice, cracking on every other word. “You’re all working on the same side, taking coal out of the earth to make money. The miners just want to survive, to be able to feed and clothe their families. But you’re making it nearly impossible for them. No wonder there’s unrest in Coal River. The only problem I see is you. You want it all for yourself.”

With that, his face went dark. He fixed intimidating eyes on her. “The Bleak Mountain Mining Company has been in my late wife’s family for nearly a century, long before any of those miners were here,” he said. “And it will be here long after they’re gone. Those men came to me, looking for jobs. If they’re not happy, they’re free to leave at any time. Immigrants pour into this country every day, and they’ll work for less than my miners are getting paid now.”

“And the little boys?” she said. “The boys who risk life and limb working in the breaker? Are they replaceable as well?”

“Of course they are. Miners multiply like rabbits.”

She stood, shaking with rage. In that moment, she finally understood the depth of her hatred for Hazard Flint.

Mr. Flint tapped his cane on the edge of the desk. “Your uncle is replaceable too. Keep that in mind while making your decision.”

“Do whatever you want with my uncle,” she said. “He’s of little concern to me. And I won’t be living in Coal River much longer, so I can’t help you with anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving.” She started toward the door, but Frank grabbed her arm.

“It’s all right,” Mr. Flint said. “Let her go. We know where to find her.”

Frank did as he was told and followed her out of the room, closing the doors behind him. “I’ll take you home,” he said.

She kept walking. “No. I know my way.”

“You’ll get drenched.”

“I don’t care.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I know you’ve been going up to the miners’ village.”

“Oh,” she spat. “So it’s your fault I’m here.” She struggled to get away. He held her tighter.

“I didn’t tell Mr. Flint that,” he said. “I just said you were talking to the boys at the store.”

“But you told him I rode the Ferris wheel with Clayton.”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Because you need to see what you’re getting yourself into!”

“What I’m getting myself into?” A crazy sounding chuckle escaped her lips. “Mr. Flint is a bigger threat to me now than Clayton will ever be, thanks to you.”

He squeezed her shoulders, his face twisting in frustration, as if fighting the urge to shake her. “I’m not like him,” he said. “Haven’t I proved that to you? I can protect you from all of them.”

She gaped up at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Did you forget the other day? What I saw you do?”

“I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger.”

“Oh my God. You don’t understand anything, do you?” She broke free and hurried away.

“But I let you go,” he said, still following. “I could have taken you back down to them. I could have—”

Emma spun around to face him, her eyes on fire. “You could have what? Thrown me in the river to drown?”

“No!” he shouted. He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “I could have let them get rid of you. Mr. Flint has no idea it was you down by the river. I said I didn’t recognize you. And if he finds out the truth, we’ll both pay for that lie.”

She turned away, heading for the front entry. “It’s about time you paid for something.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Without answering, Emma yanked open the door, darted across the veranda, and raced to the bottom of the steps. It was pouring now, the rain coming down in heavy sheets. She ran along the sidewalk and headed home, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Frank wasn’t behind her. After a few minutes she slowed, trudging through deep puddles and wet gravel, her hair soaked and the bottom of her skirt growing heavier with every step. Now what was she supposed to do?