Red Helmet (11 page)

Squirrel kicked the door with his heel. “Open up, boys!” The door opened behind him, and Squirrel backed inside, then the door slowly closed.

“You done good, Mrs. Jordan,” the constable said as they walked past the drilling rig.

“You didn't do too bad yourself, Constable.”

“We're a good team. Want a job? I could use an assistant.”

Song laughed. “Don't tempt me. This was fun.”

Doctor K came out from behind the constable's car and gave Song a hug. “I think you just made yourself a lot of friends in Highcoal, young lady.”

This brought Song crashing back to earth. There was only one friend she wanted in Highcoal and that was her husband, the exalted Cable who had enjoyed the pleasures of the governor of the state but somehow neglected to mention it. She needed to either punish him for that, or love him so much he'd forget all about West Virginia's chief executive forever. At that moment, Song was uncertain which one she was going to do. But she was going to do something.

Nine

C
able hurried up the wooden steps of the brick building that housed his office. Mole made a hand gesture like a hangman's noose as Cable passed his office. He found the MSHA inspector at his desk, writing in a notebook.

“Cable,” he said, closing the notebook with
a snap, “I've been waiting for you.” He had an edge in his voice that sounded threatening, but then Einstein always sounded threatening.

“Einstein, I'm glad you waited,” Cable lied as he hung his helmet on the hat rack by the door. “I wanted to get your advice on mine operations.”

Einstein was a prissy man but tough, the Napoleon of inspectors. He smirked. “That'll be the day when a mine superintendent asks an MSHA inspector for advice about mine operations.” He got up and walked over to the big map of the Highcoal mine pinned to the wall and put his hands behind his back. “Tell me about Six West, Cable. It evokes my curiosity.”

“Opened three months ago. Been running some good coal out of it. What else do you want to know?”

“How's the roof?”

“Silty shale. Not the best, but I have a roof bolt plan I'm confident should support it.”

“The seam?”

“Six to seven feet of soft, friable coal, much of it of high metallurgical quality.”

“Heard Navy Jones got his arm broke on that section yesterday. A pillar let go. I'm looking forward to your report so I can write my criticism of it.”

Cable nodded toward the stack of paper in his in-box. “The pillar didn't completely let go, just a corner of it. You can see my backlog. I'll file a report as soon as I can.”

“Addressing safety violations always comes first,” Einstein lectured. “Now, either your boys cut that pillar too close or there's some other reason why it collapsed, even if it was only partially.”

Cable ran a hand over his grimy face. “I'm looking into it.”

Einstein consulted his notebook. “You have a new foreman, and all the operators on that section are new too. Are they trained adequately?”

“Yes, of course they are,” Cable grumbled. He didn't like being interrogated as if he had committed a crime.

Einstein rocked in his boots for a while. “Vietnam Petroski is a good man, and your operators seem competent enough from the little I've observed. So I think there's another reason that pillar crumbled. The old works just north of Six West. Much of them are flooded, are they not?”

“So I'm told.”

“You ever heard of Quecreek in Pennsylvania?”

Cable knew where Einstein was headed, and it was nothing but trouble. “I saw it on television,” he allowed.

“What happened there? Refresh my memory.”

Cable sighed. “As you well know, since you went up there with the MSHA team, they mined into old works filled with water. It flooded the mine, nearly drowned the miners. But they all got out safely.”

Einstein nodded. “They were lucky. For one thing, their mine wasn't very deep, so rescue came quickly. Six West is eight hundred and fifty feet deep. If it flooded, you'd have a crew of dead miners.”

“There's no reason for it to flood,” Cable argued. “It's a long way from those old works.” He pointed out the area on the map. “I had a couple of boreholes put in here and here. I found water to the north, and that's why I changed the direction of the face to head west.”

“I know about those boreholes and I know the results. I approve of your action there. Still, I worry that you just lied to me. I asked you about the water and you said you'd been told it was there when, in reality, you were concerned enough to drill to find out. And now I learn you've changed the direction of the face.”

When Cable didn't say anything, Einstein continued. “That's what I thought. You're as worried about it as I am. And anytime you start working near an old area, there's more than water to worry about. What about methane? You know it has to be accumulating. How are those old sections isolated from the working mine?”

“They're sealed off,” Cable answered. “Concrete block construction.”

“What if there's an ignition and the seals don't hold?”

Cable shook his head. “Hell, Einstein, what if the sun doesn't come up in the morning?”

Einstein was not impressed with Cable's argument, or lack of one. “I want you to close down Six West, Cable. I believe it to be dangerous.”

“If I did that, I would be so far behind on my orders for high-grade metallurgical, I'd never catch up.”

Einstein looked disappointed. “The audacity of you mine superintendents never ceases to amaze me. Production means more to you than the safety of your own men. Scandalous.”

“That's not fair.”

“I don't care if it's fair or not,” Einstein retorted. “My job is to keep you on your toes and your mine safe. Now, let me tell you why that pillar collapsed. I think water is leaking in from the old area.”

“There's no proof of that.”

“My theory is as likely as any. And what if I'm right? Eventually, the entire section could come down.”

“Look, I'll put down some more boreholes to see if you're right. Just let me keep working the section until I get the results back. Even if it's happening, you know it's a slow process. I'll put some pumps in there too.”

Though Einstein looked dubious, he said, “All right. You can keep the section open for now. But I want to see the test results as soon as you get them. By the way, your man at the manlift gate didn't pat me down. You will be fined.”

Cable knew it was best to let it go, but he couldn't help arguing a little. “Everyone knows who you are. You're MSHA. You're not going to carry anything inside you're not supposed to.”

“For that opinion, you will pay one thousand dollars,” Einstein said, and walked out.

Sighing at the unfairness of it all, Cable sat down on the edge of his desk and worried over his mine map. He knew Einstein was right about everything, but especially right about Six West. It was dangerous to mine so close to those old works. If it wasn't for that big order from India, Cable would have never gone after that coal. But he was also confident in his ability to keep his men safe. He would do what needed to be done, including those new boreholes.

Cable headed for the bathhouse, Mole again giving him the hangman's signal as he walked by the dispatcher's office. Cable stopped at the manlift to have a word with Elbow Johnson, the gate guard.

“Elbow, were you here when Einstein went down?”

Elbow gulped. “Yes, sir. And I know why you're asking. I didn't pat him down. That man scares the bejeebers out of me.”

“You know the rule. Anybody who doesn't work at this mine gets patted down before he gets on the manlift. He fined us because you didn't do your job. Next time, turn him inside out.”

Elbow nodded. “I'll pat him down so hard, he'll think he's been in the ring with Rocky Marciano.”

“You do that,” Cable said, reflecting on the fact that Elbow and a lot of Highcoal's miners were ancient enough to recall who Rocky Marciano was. He
had
to find some young miners!

Cable handed over his lamp battery to the lamp house man for recharging, then hung his brass identification tag on the board marked Outside. At the bathhouse, he pulled the chains to bring his basket down from the ceiling. Such baskets were common in West Virginia coal company bathhouses. They eliminated the need for lockers and used space efficiently by storing the miners' clothing, helmet, and other necessities in baskets drawn up against the ceiling.

Cable took his clean clothes out of his basket and put them on a bench,
then stripped, put his work clothes in the basket, pulled the chain to run it back up, then headed for a shower stall. There were so many things running through his mind he was having trouble sorting them all out and putting them in their proper perspective and priority sequence. Six West, Einstein, flooding, ventilation problems, roof control, Bum, and the stack of paperwork on his desk.

Then, he recalled, there was also Song. Which problem should he solve first? How disappointing that she'd become a problem. A man's wife, after all, should be his pleasure, at least until there were kids. After that, she was put up on a pedestal for life and if Mama wasn't happy, nobody was happy. That was what Wire had taught him. It was the West Virginia way.

He turned the shower on wide open and let it beat down on his weary back. As the coal was washed off, a black puddle formed at his feet, and he got back to worrying about the mine and especially Six West.
If I didn't love this job so
much
, he thought,
I'd hate it.

“Uh, Cable?”

It was Mole standing outside the shower stall. Cable poked his head out and saw his clerk/dispatcher wearing his usual gloomy expression, except it seemed even gloomier. “What's going on, Mole?”

“Well, sir, it's about your wife. I just heard about something she did. She like to got herself killed, you see.”

Cable's jaw fell. “What?”

“Yes, sir,” Mole said. He allowed the glimmer of a smile. “Seems like she's done decided to be the new constable.”

W
HEN
C
ABLE GOT
home, he found Song asleep, wrapped in a quilt on the couch in the parlor. “Why are you not upstairs in bed?” he asked.

Song wiped the sleep from her eyes. It had been a deep sleep, and she'd been home, truly home, safe in her New York apartment. “I wanted to see you the moment you came home.”

“Why?”

“We need to talk, Cable.”

“We are talking, best I can tell.”

“So we are, although you've been gone practically from the moment I arrived here. I was coming to see you at the mine, but then I was required to solve a little problem.”

“I heard,” he cut in. “I've already had some words with Doctor K and the constable. They got an earful, I can tell you that. What were you thinking? You could have been killed!”

Song fought a strong desire to pick up one of Rhonda's tasteful lamps and break it over Cable's head. “I was coming to see you,” she said with precision, “because I heard what happened between you and Bashful this morning. I felt that we should talk about it. Doctor K was visiting me—actually she was the one who told me about the gossip and how you nearly beat up Bashful over it—and agreed to drive me to your office. That was when the constable called about Squirrel Harper. I didn't have any choice but to go with her. Once there, I did what I could to help out. I know how to negotiate, Cable. It's one of the things I do in my job.”

Cable had listened intently, all the while turning a shade of purple. “What you did was
stupid
!” he erupted, then worked to control his anger. That was something else his father had taught him. No matter how provoked, a real man never yelled at a woman. He allowed a moment more to cool down, and then said, in the most reasonable of tones, “Look, honey, this isn't New York. You don't know anything about my people. Until you do, you can't charge off without letting me know. Do you understand?”

Song stood and handed Cable the quilt. “This is for you,” she said. “Use it on the couch, the floor, or one of the other bedrooms, I don't care. ‘Stupid' here is going to bed.
Alone
.”

Cable stared at the quilt with some astonishment, then carelessly threw it down. “It's my bed too! I will sleep there tonight, tomorrow night, any night I choose.”

Song was wearing the sheer gown that had driven Cable wild in St. John. She knew he loved the way she looked in it, and even better when she shed it. She allowed it to drop to the floor and Cable's mouth went ajar.

“Mercy,” he said, his tongue suddenly thick. He took a step in her direction, but she took a step back. “What's wrong?” he all but begged.

“What's wrong? Hmm. What could possibly be wrong?” She snapped her fingers. “I have it. Let me just say this name and see if you recognize it. Governor Michelle Godfrey.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Do you know her, Cable? As in
know
in the biblical sense?”

Cable opened his mouth, then closed it. “It's a long story,” he said. “But I swan—”

“You can swan on the couch. I'm going to bed.”

“You're not going to let me explain?”

“Would I like the explanation?”

His face was pinched. “What you might like is a complete mystery to me.”

“All the more reason for you to sleep alone.” Tears filling her eyes, she started up the steps, hoping he would call her back.

But he didn't. Instead, he said, “You know what? This old couch is real comfy.”

Song was certain now she knew the truth. Her husband had slept with the governor of West Virginia (not that sleep had anything to do with it). It didn't matter that it had occured before they met and married. The fact he hadn't confessed it to her was all she needed to know. Her tears flowing across her cheeks, she ran to the bedroom and slammed the door.