Chapter 8 – Early Fall 1909 – That file only tells half the story
Abigail's life began to settle back into its new routine, which was mostly the old routine but with less of Peter. He couldn't spend his time in the saloon like the other miners, but he and the other boys who weren't of age would often have their lunches together or find time to go hunting and exploring. Peter also went once a month on the supply runs for the mine, always volunteering for what had been previously more of a rotation.
On one of the days that Peter hadn't yet returned from Cape Fullerton, Noah had forgotten his lunch pail again. It had been a while since she had to remember to hand it off, and for whatever reason she had been lingering out by the well that morning, in a more contemplative mood than usual. Indeed, by the time Mary had come out to refill her own bucket, Abigail had been staring off across the field for at least a full minute, suspended in a haze that was made up more of an ambiguous melancholy than any particular thoughts.
Grabbing a shawl to protect against the wind and hide the chore-stained state of her dress, she made her way down to the mine. The noises that grew louder as she approached always frightened her just a little. It was common industrial commotion – she understood that well enough – but the sheer power of the sounds always made her remember just how much weight and machinery and rock Noah and Peter were working around every day. It was probably for the best that she happened to visit while Peter wasn't there. If he were, she would only have been able to stand outside anyway, picturing him hunched there underground, his life at the mercy of a birdsong. And that image came to her mind too much already.
She caught sight of Noah as she entered the work site, his large frame capped with a helmet. Henry stood next to him, the two men huddled in consultation over a board that held a clipped stack of papers. It felt odd in a way she didn't understand to see Henry there. She'd expected him to be at the site, of course, but it was as though she had temporarily forgotten that he and Noah worked closely every day and that her husband was not still deep underground while Henry made decisions in an office.
The men saw her approaching and Noah rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "What would I do without you?" he said, walking toward her to grab the lunch pail.
"Starve, apparently." He looked as though he would lean down to kiss her cheek, but she turned away and pressed her head awkwardly against his shoulder instead, not wanting to display affection openly at his workplace.
"I added another sandwich in there for you, Mr. Gowen, along with an apple. In case you didn't want to go out today."
Henry looked surprised, and though he responded with a gracious appreciation, she began to feel self-conscious again, that it had been the wrong thing to do. But Noah seemed unbothered by her hospitality, neighborly gestures like this being quite common in Coal Valley.
A shout came from across the way, startling her for a moment. All three of them turned to look but it was only someone getting Noah's attention; nothing appeared to be wrong. Her husband excused himself to see what was going on, leaving her with Henry.
"That really was very kind of you," he said, after Noah had hurried down a small incline, several yards away.
"It was no trouble at all. There are only so many times in a row one can have cornbread, I would imagine."
"I was dangerously close to finding that limit, so you got here just in time."
She felt her face flush. She touched a hand to her hair, checking it was still in place. It was probably time she had her own lunch soon. She sought out and found her husband, reading from some piece of paper while Franklin Palmer disagreed with whatever was being said. Noah didn't appear to be watching any of her and Henry's exchange.
She saw that Henry was looking idly in the same direction, squinting against the sun. Neither of them made any move to leave.
"Actually, Tom's been telling me about this Founder's Day Festival coming up?"
"Oh, yes," she seized on the subject. "It commemorates the founding of the town. The children put on a play and then there are some games and a dance at the saloon. Oh, and the day wouldn't be complete without Mayor Ramsey's speech," she smirked wickedly.
Henry remained a seasoned professional though, and didn't betray any humor he might have had about the mayor. "I'll be there as part of the town council, but it sounds like it should be fun besides. And the men have the day off, I gather."
"Yes, Founder's Day is the big annual event around here. That and the Miner's Games in the spring."
"We had something like that at the last place too. It's good when the men can let off some steam."
"Which games do you participate in?"
"The ones where I win money."
"Ah," was all she offered to this cheeky response. A gambler then. Just as well; she didn't know how she might have reacted to the image of Henry – a man who she could easily believe slept in a full three-piece suit – challenging someone to a drunken arm-wrestling contest.
She had continued to linger, watching the mine operations, when she noticed a brick structure far off to their right. "What's that there?" she asked, pointing toward it. "I don't remember seeing it before."
"Housing for the ventilation system. One of the mechanical ones. Got put in a couple months back, right before I came."
"Oh that's right, Noah mentioned that. It replaced the furnace?" He nodded. "So this is better?" she asked.
"It's newer. Frankly we're about the last to get on board with fans, but this mine's not that deep and there are about fifty different kinds out there now, so you gotta take a long look around first."
"How'd they decide on this one?"
"Friend of the boss worked on the design, I think. It's been gaining traction. Good rotation." He was answering, but looking at her quizzically.
"What?"
He shrugged. "People don't usually ask me about these things."
"Afraid I'm working with Mother Jones?" she teased.
"Oh-ho!" he laughed, dramatically clutching his heart. "Never say that name around a coal mine!"
His grin was easy and contagious – too much so, in fact. She took a deep breath and looked out again, trying to keep her face straight. But Henry was still beside her, and she became keenly aware that they had inched closer together in the course of conversation. She stepped away from him, in a manner she hoped was polite.
"Well, I'd better get out of your way. I'm sure you have a lot to do."
He murmured a quiet agreement, nodding at the ground.
"You're welcome any time though," he offered. "With or without sandwiches."
Abigail tilted her head shyly in parting, waving a goodbye to her husband as well before she walked off the work site. Would they have lunch together, he and Henry? She really didn't know how close they were, but it did seem to her like Henry was opening up more, at least in his demeanor.
She reminded herself what he'd said at the graduation about relationship-building. Men in his position didn't get very far without knowing how to craft friendliness and interest. Maybe he'd simply come to accept that Coal Valley was his base now, where he would need to continue building his reputation.
What could he gain from her though? They did genuinely get along, she thought, but he was also shrewd enough to understand that the women had a silent power – making the household decisions, influencing their husbands and children. Perhaps she shouldn't take his warmth and humor very personally. They might be friendly, but there wasn't – nor should there be – any actual intimacy there.
