Читать книгу Bed Rock - Jack Bethea - Страница 10

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Blackford and Alice paused on the platform of the tiny depot, unmindful of the men who poured out of the coach and brushed against them. The railroad ran out on the shoulder of the mountain. Below them was a circular valley with precipitous sides in which nestled the town. Diminished by the distance, the houses straggled aimlessly along the wandering street. To his left, Blackford saw the shaft-work of the mine and the stacks of the engine-house. Across the valley, perched on the slope of the opposite mountain, was a rambling bungalow. Blackford pointed.

"There is where we are to live, I believe. That is the Residency."

"But how are we to get there?" Alice asked.

Blackford looked around expectantly for some figure of authority. One of the resident executives should have met them. As the last man disappeared down the hill, glancing curiously at Blackford and his wife, the superintendent realized that they had not been expected until afternoon.

"There is no one here," he said. "They did not expect us on the morning train. We'll wait here until some one shows up."

Alice breathed deeply and relaxed in the keen air. "Can't we walk? I can see the whole town and there isn't very much. Where are we going first?"

"To the Residency. You'll want to see your house, of course."

"What a queer name. The Residency. As if some ruler lived there."

"The superintendent does rule in a mining camp."

"I see. I am hungry. Let's walk. It isn't far."

"If you like. Come over here. You can see better through the trees."

Following his pointing finger, Alice saw the house at the head of the single street that wound leisurely through the camp. Vines grew about the pillars and pines dotted the back yard. A single gigantic oak, an evergreen, lifted its height in the front yard. Even at that distance, there was a look of comfort about the place and Alice felt her impatience increasing. She seized Blackford's arm and pulled him after her down the steps. "Come on," she urged. "I am in a hurry. Isn't this air fine?"

Blackford followed with a reluctant grunt. "Wait a moment. It won't run off. I know it doesn't look far. It never is the actual distances in this country. It's the amount of traveling you have to do. Any idea how far it is? More than a mile. It is so far down and then up. Besides, your shoes are not meant for walking."

Alice looked down in whimsical surprise. "I've plenty more in my trunk. Let's walk, anyway. There are three reasons why I am in a hurry." She tabulated them on her fingers. "First, I'm hungry; second, I'm cramped from the long ride; third, I want to see what the house is like."

Blackford followed her in silence. Alice loved home-making. He knew that. If he could have her once more building a home, he would be wiser than before. His thoughts were brighter. Her attitude had changed ... softened. Perhaps a home might ease her bitterness. His musings were interrupted by Alice's surprised question.

"Where is the camp? I thought Cahaba was a camp. You talked of a mining camp, and so did Daddy."

"All mining operations are camps," Blackford explained. "That does not mean people live in tents or in the woods. It is not literally a camp."

"Why call it a camp, then?"

"I never heard it explained. All my life a mine working has been a camp. I suppose it is because the company owns the land and the houses, and the people in them are tenants. They can be put out any time the company chooses. In that sense they are camping in company houses."

"That's rather uncertain for them," said Alice thoughtfully. "Are all camps like that?"

"Oh, yes, or the company could not control the men."

They dropped rapidly down as they talked and now began to cross the bottom of the valley. Soon they would ascend the other side and come to the Residency on the first ridge of the higher mountain. They met no one. It was scarcely sunrise and the men were within doors. At the shaft, smoke pouring from the engine-stacks told of the fan never idle. They went down the main—and only—street in the village, and Alice looked curiously at the dingy houses. Carefully tended flower-gardens struggling in the clay soil added a touch of color to the drab fronts. At last they came to an odd-looking structure with a wide veranda across the front, barred windows and high walls.

"What is that?" Alice asked.

"The commissary. The men buy there what they eat and wear."

"Does the company have that, too?"

"We own it and a manager operates it. Offices are usually in the rear. Yes, there they are." He pointed to an ell leading from the main building.

"Are you the company here?" Alice asked suddenly.

Blackford looked at her. It was a new thought. "Why, yes. I suppose I am."

"You could do anything you wanted?"

"Within reason, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"Would you be limited by reason unless you wished?"

"I am only one man."

"But if you control the things people eat, the clothes they wear, and the houses in which they live, who would stop you?"

"I don't see what you——"

Alice's voice was sharp. "You have the opportunity you wanted so badly. You should realize it."

Then Blackford saw behind her questions. She had not forgotten, after all. They walked in silence up the sharp slope and neared the Residency. As they opened the gate, a long figure rose from the steps. He held a key in the hand he extended as they came up the violet-bordered walk.

"You're Mr. Blackford, I s'pose," he said, his voice a drawl, yet the words enunciated with the effect of careful choosing. "Here is the key to the Residency, sir. I kind of thought you would be in this morning. I got everything ready for you last night. I hope you'll like it."

"You knew we were coming?" Blackford echoed. "How? I told no one."

"I just guessed it," the man said, a faint smile bringing lines about the quizzical eyes as he added: "I'm a pretty good guesser—about some things. I meant to meet you at the depot, but I didn't get up in time."

Blackford took the key without further questions. He was thinking of other things and spoke absently. "I am Blackford, the new superintendent. I see you know that already. Er—who are you?"

"My name is Stringfellow, Goslin Stringfellow. I'm your chief clerk. Excuse me for not tellin' you sooner. I forgot you would not know me."

The man's eyes turned toward Alice and Blackford answered the look with an introduction. "Mrs. Blackford," he said. "Alice, this is Mr. Stringfellow. If he is my chief clerk, we are going to know him better."

Alice put out a small hand. "How do you do?"

Stringfellow took her fingers in his own and looked down at her.

"I'm afraid you'll find it lonely up here. We don't think about much besides the mine."

"I am not afraid." Alice smiled at him. He was not at all like the men she had seen on the train. "If you have nothing else, you have the mountains. I've never seen anything so fine as this view, and the air is wonderful. I'll find plenty to do."

Blackford listened hopefully. He had expected at best only tolerance of Cahaba and himself. If she should like the place ... He scarcely heard Stringfellow.

"I won't bother you any more now, sir. I know Mrs. Blackford is anxious to see the house. I think you will find everything ready. I didn't know what you would bring, so I didn't move anything. I sent groceries up from the commissary and you'll find meat in the cellar. I s'pose you would rather look around for yourself than have me tell you."

"Thank you, I would," Alice said, and turned to Blackford. "Let's go inside, Warren. I can't wait to see it."

Stringfellow turned away. "If you need anything I will be at the commissary, sir," he called to Blackford. "The company offices are in the rear."

"I know, thank you. I don't think I shall bother with anything to-day. I want to get Mrs. Blackford settled. This is all new to her, you know. I'll look things over to-morrow."

Blackford dumped the grips into a wicker chair, but as he inserted the doorkey, Alice spoke. She was a trifle breathless. "Wait a minute, Warren. Sit here with me a moment and enjoy the view."

She made room for him in the swing that hung from the oak rafters and they gazed in silence. It was a different silence from that of the train, Blackford thought. Instead of watching the valley, he searched Alice's face. They were alone together at their own home! Their own home! It thrilled him a little. This would be better than Pittsburgh. They would see more of each other. There would be fewer interruptions. She would be more dependent on him. There would be no interests save those he provided. Blackford was not yet ready to admit that he loved his wife, but he wanted her respect. She must respond to his ... He awoke with a start to find her looking into his eyes.

"A penny for your thoughts," she challenged.

He shook his head. "They are worth much more than that. They are of you."

Alice looked at him closely. "Why! I really believe he means it," she laughed. Her tone was subtly luring and Blackford found no sting in her mirth. "If you won't tell yours, I'll tell mine. But no! A fair exchange is no robbery. I'll tell mine and then you tell yours. Will you?"

"Yes," Blackford said, his pulse quickening and very conscious of her nearness.

She sobered. "I feel odd," she mused aloud. "That was why I did not want you to open the door just yet. When we go into the house together, we are crossing a bridge we never can cross back. I wanted to hesitate a moment, like all women." She pointed toward Double Oak Mountain where the early sun touched the peak's bald top. "It's so different. I never imagined anything like this. It's beautiful. I don't wonder you wanted to get back. Alabama. What does the name mean?"

"It's an Indian name. When De Soto and his Spaniards came to a river not far from here they were tired and hungry and sick. They found food and shelter and friendly Indians. The savages called it Alabama and told De Soto it meant 'Here we rest.'"

"Here we rest," repeated Alice. "I think I will rest here." She smiled and laid a hand on his arm. Blackford stirred under the intimacy of her touch, but she continued without noticing. "When I told you I was coming to Alabama, I felt quite a martyr. I thought people lived in tents and ... and cooked outdoors. I didn't expect this. Isn't it quiet!"

The men were gathering at the shaft for the day's work. As they looked, the siren on the hoisting-engine feathered into steam and its bellowing call echoed in the surrounding hills. Stragglers quickened their steps obediently.

"That is the day shift," Blackford explained. "Soon you will see the night men come out of the mine. There won't be so many, as a full shift is not working. Only the sprinklers and fire-bosses."

Blackford thought Alice nestled against him for an instant and his heart jumped. But he kept his eyes on the valley where the houses were tiny and the hurrying figures small. Back over Double Oak Mountain the sun came up and the long April dawn was over. It was work-time.

"It's your turn now," Alice said at length. "Of what were you thinking?"

Blackford's voice was a bit unsteady. "I told you. I was thinking of you. I was planning to make things here as pleasant as I could." He reached for her quiet hand. There was no resistance as he held it lightly. "I'll do the best I can for you. I——"

Alice removed her hand, not hastily, not unkindly, but ... firmly. "What! Sentimental before breakfast! Surely not, and you a man! Come. We must hurry. Quickly! I must feed you!"

She bustled him to the door ahead of her. Blackford bent obediently to turn the key and then paused. Memories long dormant stirred in his mind. And she had not been hostile. Did he dare? He glanced sideways at her and she smiled.

"Hurry," she said.

Still Blackford hesitated. To-day he had touched her for the first time since ... His throat was choked and his heart pounded. He straightened abruptly as he swung the door wide.

Alice moved forward and suddenly he hesitated no longer. Catching her lightly in his arms, he lifted her over the threshold and then stepped quickly back, his face flushed. "In our country, all brides come into their new homes that way," he said softly. "It brings good luck."

Alice did not seem angry. "But I am not a bride——" she began and stopped.

It was a big room they entered, extending across the whole house. Furniture had been hewed out of the native oak. On the floor was a rug, on the walls pictures. At one end, logs on giant andirons filled the open fireplace. Around were built-in bookcases and in a corner a piano. The room gripped her with its simplicity. In the center were low-hung chandeliers and around the wall was window after window, so that one could sit and from every direction see the green outside.

Alice dropped into one of the chairs and gestured in amazement. "Think of finding such a place! It's ... it's overpowering!"

Blackford shared her pleasure without comment. He was as surprised as she, but his curiosity was forgotten in her enjoyment.

Alice sprang up. "Let's go exploring! This very minute! I can't wait. Isn't it wonderful!"

Together they went over the big house; the dining-room with its hand-made furniture, its carved and polished side-board, the built-in china closets, swinging doors into the kitchen, and the kitchen itself. And such a kitchen! On one side was a stove that shone with polish. Beside it was neatly stacked kindling and behind, the coal box. A sink. And running water!

"They evidently pump it up from the mine," Blackford explained. "The electricity, too. They use it at the mine and it is much better than lamps. It makes the house complete."

There was the cellar. And the bedrooms with bedsteads all of oak. And the linen. Alice rummaged in drawers, pulled back the curtains to look out, and altogether conducted herself like the bride she had denied being.

In the midst of her delight, she stopped. "I forgot," she cried contritely. "You must be starving. Bring my grip this minute. Wait in the living-room while I change and we'll have something to eat. I am hungry myself."

She pushed him out even while one hand was fumbling with the hooks of her traveling dress.

Blackford never forgot that first day in the Residency. He helped get breakfast from the things they found on the swinging shelf in the cellar and in the pantry. He even helped wash the dishes and put them away, to be chided for not doing it properly.

Alice was tireless. She was everywhere—exploring, exclaiming, delighted with the bedrooms and the living-room, even crawling into the attic to see what it contained—which was nothing.

After supper they lighted a fire in the living-room and sat before the blazing logs in companionable silence. Alice had changed into a lacy negligee that clung about her, and after supper took down her hair, letting it fall about her shoulders. Her eyes were provocative as she brushed, glancing sideways at her husband.

Blackford leaned forward and took her hand. "Do you like it?"

"Yes," she answered simply.

He rose and sat on the arm of her chair. After a moment's hesitation, he slipped an arm around her. He could feel his heart pounding. She did not stir. "Do you think you can be happy here with me?" he whispered.

"With you?"

"Yes, with me. That is the only thing worth while to me now."

"Do I mean that much to you?" She brushed her hair from her eyes and looked up.

Blackford's voice was unsteady. The touch of her thrilled him. His head whirled. Suddenly he knew she was the one woman. He could be honest now. He marveled that he should have been so blind!

"You mean everything to me," he said huskily. She did not stir. He was silent for a moment and added: "I love you." The words startled him. Had he spoken them? She was unstirring and he said again: "I love you."

Alice slipped out of his arms and gazed at him intently. "I am so glad," she breathed.

He would have drawn her back, but she resisted. "I am glad, but not for the reason you think," she said calmly. Taken utterly aback by her flat tone, he could only stare. "Sit there, in the other chair, and let us talk," she directed. Deftly she bound up her hair while he watched wonderingly. "You say you love me," she said judicially. "Are you sure? This is not the first time you have said that."

"Of course, I'm sure ... As sure as ..." Blackford stammered. "Oh, sweetheart! I have wanted to explain about that wretched time. I didn't mean it. I love you. I do."

Alice eyed him. "Yes, I believe you do. And I'm glad. Do you know why? Now I can hurt you as you hurt me. It is my turn now." There was repressed bitterness in her voice. "Do you know why you love me? Because I made you. I knew I could. You must have wondered why I came here with you. It was for this moment." Still Blackford did not speak. "You thought I had forgotten and that was stupid of you. I'll never forget, nor will you. I am bitter, I know, and it doesn't grow less. This is only a beginning. I'm not going to leave you—not for a long time. That would be too easy for you. Don't expect that."

Blackford put out a hand. "I won't believe this. You are my wife—"

"No," she said quietly. "I am not your wife. Not really. That is over. You have made it impossible—forever. I think you will be ... sorry. More than you are now. And remember, you did it yourself."

Then she turned and walked slowly into her room. From outside came the mournful cry of an owl. Blackford shivered.