Page 19 of The Heart of Bennet Hollow

Morning dew settled weighty upon William, much like the gazes of the miners who watched him approach the hoist barn with his men.

“I hear none of the other coal barons have done this,” Callum muttered for William’s ears alone. “Not a single one.”

“I heard the same.”

“And that all of them have already cut out of town. Several, I believe, are planning to make offers.”

William kept his gaze straight ahead. “But what to make of that?”

Callum’s voice dropped lower. “I think they see the bordering farms in question.” He glanced around before tilting the worry William’s way. “Land that could be ripe for the taking and make the prospect of buying the New River mine even more lucrative.”

William forced himself not to gaze in that direction.

Not toward the other properties... nor the Bennets’.

He knew Callum was working on the issue night and day.

Scouring documents. Ledgers. Laws. He kept mentioning a tax act from 1894 that could be problematic for the current land residents, but was still so unsure, he kept even William waiting.

All the more reason the man needed to return to Vermont where he had more resources available than what he had on hand.

As for this morning, the sun had yet to crest the mountaintops and the air snapped crisp through William’s coat.

He tried not to notice as shovels stilled in weathered, chapped hands.

Carts creaked to a halt. Eyes hollowed with hard work watched their every step.

A crunch of eight sets of boots crossed the yard, William at their helm and Callum taking up the rear.

Even mules blinked slowly in their direction.

William’s chest tightened as the beasts held him and the newcomers in steady gazes. Untrusting. That was the truth of it.

Impossible to blame them.

Whoever purchased the New River mine had the power to change their lives forever. Be that for good or for ill.

These souls didn’t know which. Did he? His conscience sagged with the notion of the farmland that remained in question. The four farms that were under so much scrutiny.

Webb. McMahon. Hatcher.

Bennet. This name amid all the others kept him up at night ever since he’d touched a fair woman’s fingertips and heard the lilt of her mountain-grown voice speak of woodlands and books and her beloved animals.

A mule angled its weary head away from him and even as he swallowed hard, William dipped a nod to the nearest group of miners, respecting them despite their wariness.

To them, he was a wealthy coal baron out to gain a profit from the sweat of their backs.

But William intended for this to be an endeavor he could hang his hat on at the end of the day.

One he could look upon with peace when he stood before God to give account for his life.

That would take courage. For him to find a way to help this place thrive, the undertaking would require money, vision, and commitment.

Most of all, sincerity. He meant to prove that to the people of New River if he took up the position of owner.

He hoped to earn their trust and that would take time.

Today offered one step in that direction as he entered the massive doorway of the hoist barn.

The room was sharp with the scent of grease and the familiar dusty, hollow air that wafted up from the depths of the earth.

How different it looked now compared to the night of the dance.

On strange instinct, he looked across the barn for sight of Lizbeth and where she’d been standing beside the window after they’d parted ways.

She’d laughed and smiled with her friend and sisters and he’d simply stood there, struck by the warmth and joy in her face.

“This way.” Mr. Jorgensen led William toward the hoist cage. “We’ll take this down.”

Callum walked in strained silence, his mind seeming a world away. William didn’t blame him but he meant to keep his friend attentive and safe. Once the last of his men gathered around, William accepted a small brass head lantern from Mr. Jorgensen.

“You’ve assembled quite a team,” Jorgensen said. If the man was intimidated by the size of the crew summoned today, it didn’t show.

“Thank you, sir.” William accepted the dented lantern and slid it over his flatcap. By the weight of it, the lantern already held water and carbide, ready to be lit.

To William’s right stood three of the best engineers he’d ever commissioned and beyond them stood the trio of skilled miners from his Pennsylvania location.

William noted the tallest of the men. Fair-haired and square shouldered, he carried an air of conceit around him—one William knew all too well after the years the man had been in his employment.

“And what of that one?” Jorgensen inquired while a foreman counted off the number of men allowed to enter the cage.

“A miner by name of Westgard.” William adjusted his lantern. “He’s been in my employment for several years, though I’ve nearly fired him twice now.”

“An interesting business arrangement.”

“You could say that, but this venture calls for composure and a willingness to explore in uncertain conditions. Engineers will only venture so far into the earth, sir.”

Jorgensen nodded the truth of that. “So, you brought a scout.” He studied Westgard’s confident air.

“Yes, sir.”

Westgard feared nothing. The young laborer knew no boundaries. A cockiness that occasionally stirred up trouble among his comrades back in Pennsylvania. Westgard proved himself brave, yes, but that confidence saddled up with trouble at times.

When it came to bravery, it was possible for a man to bear too much.

“Sounds like a wise decision.” Jorgensen adjusted his lamp a final time.

William wished he could have gone about it differently. Have a rabble-rouser like Westgard off his payroll once and for all. Yet the truth of it today? Westgard had a knack for squirreling into places he didn’t belong. That would prove an asset once they were below ground.

Jorgensen approached the hoist cage. “My men tell me we can fit ten, but it’ll be tight.”

“Ready when you are.” William followed him into the open lift. Behind them, the dim light of morning brightened the hoist barn. A comfort they were about to lose.

The cage was dim as they entered, the depths below darker still.

The platform they stood on creaked with the shifting weight, and a cool, dank draft wafted up from below.

William could handle the closeness of the earth.

Even the reality that it could come crushing down at any moment.

He didn’t fancy himself immortal but was content for his fate to be braced by the hand of God.

He was prepared for his death when and how it came.

.. but he rather liked the sky. Its absence sparked the struggle he reckoned with each and every time he entered a shaft.

“Last one in?” Jorgensen said over the shoulders all crushed together.

“That’s the last.” William turned to face the closing bar door.

Their carbide lamps were slowly being lit, emanating a pungent gas along with the yellow-white flame that reflected against a small round mirror on each. Mercifully bright but deceptively dangerous. William lit his own.

With the recent introduction of electricity in homes and businesses across the nation, perhaps the time would come when lanterns might harness the same resource.

New River had a telegraph machine, but that was powered by an antique battery, he’d noticed.

Barely enough to send a pulse of Morse code over the miles, let alone power a house or a coal mine.

William had brought electricity to the offices of his Chess Creek mine by tapping into the city lines.

But could such a current reach even farther?

Achieve all that and beyond in a place as remote as this?

He’d recently read of the Pacific Coast Company which employed the use of electricity in their mine tunnels below the ground, so there were ways.

The ways of the future, but for today, he was in New River, Virginia, with a burning flame strapped to his cap and trusty engineers at his side.

“See y’all on the other side!” The hoist operator cranked the steam engine to life. With a grinding squeal, the hoist drum churned. A clatter followed and the cage lurched.

William braced a palm to the cage door as the slow descent began.

Their lives hung in the grip of a single hoisting cable that unfurled at a cautious pace.

The four-walled shaft spread just as wide and straight edged as the cage, not more than ten feet in any direction.

William had ridden in hotel elevators larger than this.

The hoist cage was a world away from those with their gilt trim and shimmering mirrors.

Beyond the cage’s slotted sides, earth-and-timber walls crept up to the level of their boots... then nibbled at their shins as the ground braced its mouth open to swallow the cage whole. Darkness edged nearer and William squared his chin.

“Just the beginning,” a miner muttered.

The engineers all shifted their stance, seeming uneasy.

William blew out a controlled breath. They’d soon be deep in the belly of the earth. A still and silent cavern that was being carved from the inside out, without any say in return. A risky endeavor and one that William didn’t take lightly. As he understood it, Jorgensen didn’t either.

Overhead, the steam engine hissed and chugged.

“Maybe one day, such a device will be replaced by electricity,” William said to the engineer beside him.

The man nodded. “Could be the way of the future.”

“Which is exactly why we’re here.” William tilted his head back to watch the cable unfurl.

At first glance, it seemed impossible, but William saved each idea to mull over in the quiet hours of his study.

His purpose today wasn’t only to ascertain the New River mine’s value, but to consider what improvements might lay ahead, and what the price tag would be.