PENNSYLVANIA

Scylla and Charybdis

(Part 4)

Maybe it was time they moved on.

Ben found himself thinking it again as he lay on the straw pallet next to Adam, his arms folded under his head. It was very early in the morning, and he had once again had to break up a fight - they were becoming more and more frequent, the mood of the miners darker and more restless. Gone was the good-natured jibing of hard working men after a long day - instead there were grumbles and whispers and then raised voices. He couldn't quite figure out what it was about. He only caught snatches of conversation and he didn't understand mining well enough to really put them together.

"That tunnel was closed for a reason!" one had hissed to the other earlier this evening. "Working it is sure disaster."

"Disaster ain't never sure with mining. The owner says…"

"Oh, yes, I'm sure he does for sure - he's way down the other end of the town, ain't he? What's it mean to him, except profit and loss? Miners are a dime a dozen - we're like so many rats to him."

"So, you'd rather we closed down for a while? Is that it? And what will your children eat then, hey?"

"Well, at least they'll be alive to eat!"

"Oh, aye - for a while, anyway…" was the sneering reply. "We've few choices, and our best bet is to keep working as long as we can and take our chances."

"Well, there's some chances not worth taking!"

Ben had stepped in then, hearing the heated rise of voices, seeing the one miner push his stool back decidedly. The second miner shrugged at Ben and slapped his coin down on the bar then stood to leave, saying pointedly that he had to get some rest, since he had work tomorrow.

The other man had spat after him but made no move to follow. "I'll have another rum."

Ben had wordlessly refilled his tankard, wondering whether or not it was wise to broach a question. He didn't have to bother.

"Daft, they are." The man had gazed at him out of drink-bleary, tormented eyes. "If we stood together we'd have something, but, no - they're like so many sheep. Afeerd of change."

"Change is hard for many people," Ben had learned to keep his answers neutral.

"Oh, aye, for sure - especially for sheep. They treat us like so many sheep to slaughter, and so that's how we learn to act. It won't last forever, I'll tell you that - day'll come when someone decides to stand up and do som'thin' about it. Only hope I'm alive to see it. Minin's the devil's own work, and there's none that make a dime off it except those with clean hands."

Ben raised his brows in surprise. "I understood it paid well."

The man gave a crack of mirthless laughter. "Oh, aye - not that we ever see much of it. Part goes to pay for the doctor. Part to the company store for our equipment, then for our household goods, then food. Man takes home but nothin' to put away fer tomorra, try though he might. Not even with all his sons workin', a man can't get ahead. Nor get away." He emptied his tankard in one big swallow, slamming it down on the bar for emphasis. "But day'll come. Men can't live like sheep ferever. Mark my words, friend - day'll come."

Ben couldn't quite understand the odd creeping feeling that left on his spine. As soon as he could, he had closed and cleaned up and gathered Adam up from his little nest of blankets on the floor and headed up to bed.

Time to sleep. He rolled over, trying to banish the memory and relax, adding up their small sum of savings in his head. Enough to make it to Ohio? Maybe he had something he could trade for a goat - it could eat grass along the road, and that would mean milk for Adam until they could get to another town…they could sell it or slaughter it for food once they got there.

He shifted restlessly onto his side. Watching his son sleep always seemed to settle his confused feelings - leave him with a sense of peace. To his surprise, Adam wasn't asleep, but was watching him with his eyes wide open. Ben couldn't read his expression in the dark. He reached out and stroked the velvety cheek.

"What's the matter, son?" he asked softly. "Can't sleep? Need your medicine?" He heard Adam sniff and reached for the small bottle and handkerchief he kept by the side of the pallet. Cutting teeth certainly seemed to keep Adam's nose running. "Here…" he held the handkerchief so Adam could blow his nose, then smeared some medicine onto his finger and liberally coated Adam's gums. Adam didn't fight him much, except to make a spitting sound when he was done.

Ben grinned. "Come here." He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, tucking the silky head under his chin. Adam wasn't always much of a cuddler, but this time he pressed himself against Ben's chest, curling into a tight little ball. Ben rubbed his back soothingly. "I think we'd both better get some sleep, hm? Lots to do tomorrow." He drew the threadbare blanket over them and buried his face in Adam's sweet-smelling hair, calmed by the sensation of the tiny heart fluttering against his own. He closed his eyes. He couldn't really speak for Adam, but for him, breathing in tandem gradually seemed to ease the tensions of the day, and he was soon deeply and peacefully asleep.

BBB

Throughout the next day Ben decided for certain - it was time to move on. Payday was in only a couple of days, and he would warn Henry that it would be his last. If one of the mine tunnels did close then there would be men scrabbling for his job, so he shouldn't be leaving anyone in a bad situation. He and Adam would strike out for Ohio. The atmosphere in the tavern was becoming more and more hostile - volatile - like a wound festering. He had no desire to be there when it finally erupted.

The miners had almost visibly divided into groups now - some sitting at the bar, some sitting around the tables, eyeing each other with dark suspicion. The tension hovered in the smoky air. Ben wished that they would all take their troubles home before something happened. He paused to glance over where Adam was busy with his blocks behind the bar, so he missed, at first, the entrance of the newcomer - was only vaguely aware of the burst of cold damp air from the open door and the shivering of the candle flames in the lamps at the quick breath of breeze. By the time he turned around, he was struck at how suddenly quiet the tavern had become.

A man he'd never seen before made his way to the bar. He was better dressed than the usual patron - cleaner shaven, better kept. He dropped a gold coin on the counter and cleared his throat. "I'll have an ale. Please."

Ben glanced at the man's hands - noticed that, despite his well-groomed appearance, his hands bore the telltale coal stains of time spent in the mines. He allowed himself a quick glimpse of the stranger's face. The tavern light was subdued, but first glance didn't seem to indicate a miner's pallor. Ben poured a tankard of ale, trying not to stare. The man politely nodded his thanks for the drink and turned around to face the company of miners, taking a sip from his tankard. The miners seemed to be waiting for him to speak.

"I have been speaking with Mr. Clousser…" he began. Murmurs hissed around the room. He held up a hand to silence them. "I have expressed all of your concerns and fears, and we have talked about them at length - taken everything into account. Mr. Clousser has decided that the best course of action…" he paused to be sure he had their attention. The air shook with expectant silence. "Is to continue on. We will not be closing, even for a day - tunnel 26 will be reopened."

A roar went up from the room - part cheer, part howl of rage. The gentleman held up his hands again. "Please! We understand that some of you have concerns and why…"

"Blasting that tunnel again is nothing less than murder and you know it!"

Ben recognized the strident, raging tones of his customer of the previous evening.

The gentleman carefully put his ale down. "There are risks, of course, but mining always carries risks…"

"It's not risks!" Someone else hollered back. "We ain't afraid of risks - but that's madness! Jesus, Harry - you were one of us once - you know what we're talking about!"

"Oh, sit down and shut up!" came another voice from one of the tables. "We'll still be working won't we? Still be paid? The other tunnel's played out - I say we got no choice. It's a risk we'll take."

"That's right," agreed another. "Them's what don't have the guts can pack up and move out."

"Oh, that's brilliant, that is - " retorted another. "Let them turn us against each other, will you? Together we might get the fairness that animals gets, but you bleedin' cowards - "

A chair shot across the room as someone jumped to his feet. "Who you callin' cowards?"

Ben saw what was coming and vaulted over the bar almost before he had time to think about it. The air was clogged with sounds - glass breaking, the thump of fists on flesh, the crack of splintering furniture, the clatter and tinkle of falling chandeliers. He ducked as a bottle flew by his ear, trying to yank two brawlers apart and throw them to their respective corners.

The stranger's voice rose above it all. "Enough! Enough! Are you all crazy? This won't help anything…" He might as well have been yelling at the wind. The pent up rage and fear and tension of the last few days had found an out and would not be stopped until it had spent itself. The best Ben could hope for was to keep property damage to a minimum, and that didn't look too promising either. He instinctively ducked another punch, returned it with one of his own that sent the miner into temporary dreamland. He heard the plaintive, tumbled voice of the piano and looked over his shoulder to see if Barney needed any help, just in time to watch a miner bounce off of the keys. Barney dusted off his hands and gave Ben a grin, the stub of his cigar still clenched in the corner of his teeth.

A thunderous boom split the air and the last remaining chandelier dropped unceremoniously from the ceiling to land with a clunk and a rattle of shattering glass. Henry looked mournfully from the shotgun he clutched, still smoking, in his hands, to the ruin of the chandelier. He glared at his stock-still patrons. "Go home," he said flatly, his eyes traveling about the broken tavern. "I have one barrel left, and I know how to use it. Go home and stop busting up my place or I'll have you all arrested. Then nobody will be working. Go. Now."

The miners shifted their feet, suddenly looking ashamed. Ben watched as they helped each other up, no matter who'd argued for which side, helped each other locate scattered possessions, dusted each other off. Touching their shabby hats to Lillibelle and Blossom, they shuffled toward the door. Ben shook his head. Just like sailors. He glanced around and shook his head again - and there would be a lot of clean up to do before this night was over - a lot to restore, if they were going to be open again tomorrow night. Opening and closing his bruised fists, he went to get his broom.

He was just reaching for it when he suddenly remembered Adam. He was being very quiet - the noise must have been terrifying for him. He forgot the broom and crossed behind the bar to the spot where he'd left him. Adam was still sitting in front of his blocks. Ben couldn't see him well now that they had lost the light of even the rustic chandeliers and were left with only scattered lanterns, but he wasn't crying and in what light there was he could make out the shine of his eyes. He crouched down in front of him, trying to get a better look. "Are you all right, son? Did the fight frighten you?"

Adam blinked at him. He seemed - startled, maybe. Confused. Ben reached down to scoop him up, mostly to reassure himself that he was fine. Adam shivered a little when he touched him and Ben kissed the top of his head. "It's all right now - it's all over. Well, you're wet, aren't you? No wonder you're cold…" With all those bottles and glasses spilling and breaking it was no wonder. "What is that you've got all over you? Rum, maybe? Seems too dark to be anything else…" It didn't smell much like rum, though; it seemed to have splashed and soaked his entire left side. Adam leaned heavily against him. "I'm going to clean you up a little, then Papa has to see to cleaning up the bar…what on earth is this stuff…?" He moved to the one small lamp burning behind the bar to get a better look, rubbing the thick liquid between his thumb and forefinger.

Not beer or ale, certainly…he peered closely in the darkness, squinting to see clearly.

Then froze. And turned and ran for the door as fast as his legs could carry him.

BBB

He half slid, half tumbled down the slope to the village, Adam limp and quiet in his arms. The clinic was dark and shuttered. He didn't even hesitate. He went directly to the small, trim house next door and hammered on the door with all his might. It swung inward almost immediately.

Barbara Chesterfield peered through the opening, an apron around her waist and a towel in her hands. "Why, Ben…"

"Please," begged Ben wildly. "Please…"

She opened the door a little wider to get a better look. "Oh, God - Charles?" she turned to yell over her shoulder.

Charles was already on his feet, tossing down his napkin. "Next door," he said abruptly. "I have more equipment there, better light…" He pushed past Ben, groping through a ring of keys for the right one. He led them directly through the empty waiting room, and stopped outside of the examining room to unlock. He indicated the examining table with his head while moving around the room to crank up the lamps. "Where is he hurt?"

"I - I don't know…" Ben felt all the air suck out of his chest as he saw Adam in the light, blood soaking his shirt and overalls and streaking his face, his head resting listlessly against his father's shoulder. "I - couldn't really see - the tavern was so dark - once I realized - I just came here as fast as…"

"All right. Lay him down on the table, will you? Let's have a look."

Ben could barely bring himself to put Adam down, as if holding him would somehow infuse him with all his own strength, but he carefully rested the little body on the table, keeping one hand on his head and the other on his right arm.

Dr. Chesterfield pulled out a pair of scissors and cut away Adam's torn and bloody left sleeve. "Well, think I've got it - " he said slowly, eyeing it closely. "Lot of blood, but otherwise doesn't look too bad - hold him still for me?" He picked up a pair of large tweezers and turned Adam's arm so that he could get a better look. Adam whimpered as he manipulated the arm and the doctor shifted his eyes to his face. "Adam, I'm going to have to hurt you for a bit, but I promise it will only make you feel better in the end, okay?"

Adam half-opened his eyes at him, then turned his head, searching. He saw Ben and pushed his three fingers into his mouth. Ben bent down so that his face was close to Adam's. "The doctor is just trying to help you, Adam. Can you be still for him for just a little bit? There's my big boy." Adam blinked slowly at him, then jerked suddenly. Ben heard something ping off of the wall of a metal basin and saw out of the corner of his eye Dr. Chesterfield putting down his tweezers and pressing white cloth against the wound. He swallowed when he saw the cloth quickly change to red and turned his eyes back to Adam. Adam tried to pull his arm away and Ben stroked his hair away from his brow, whispering soothingly. The little forehead felt so cold.

He half-noticed Dr. Chesterfield tossing the cloth away and reaching for a new one. "How long ago did this happen?"

Ben felt himself flush with shame. "I'm - not sure exactly…there was a brawl…glass was flying everywhere - was it glass?"

Dr. Chesterfield nodded. "At least the liquor sterilized it. Looks like we aren't going to get away without stitches. Can you keep him still? I think this is the worst of it, but I want to look him over and make sure I haven't missed any others."

Ben nodded dully. He placed a hand in the middle of Adam's chest to keep him quiet. Adam half opened his eyes again, looked at him, and let them drop closed. Ben rubbed his thumb over Adam's forehead, trying to warm it. "The doctor is going to hurt you some, Adam," he said as calmly as he could manage. "but it won't last long, I promise. He's just trying to make you better. Then I'm going to put you to bed, and you can sleep as long as you want. What do you think of that? Or you can have all the stories you want. You just let me know. Whatever you say…just let the doctor take care of you for now, okay?" He kept on rambling to Adam, mindlessly, really - as much to distract himself as to distract his little boy, trying not to see the bright flash of needle as the doctor focused on his close work. Adam trembled, but he didn't make a sound. Ben continued to stroke his forehead, wishing there was more that he could do, that both of his own arms could be amputated instead.

"Almost done." Dr. Chesterfield picked up a glass jar of salve and a roll of bandages. "Just let me bandage and then we'll see if there's any other damage." He cut away the rest of the shirt and wrapped a clean white bandage around the tiny arm, checking the chest and shoulder for any further wounds. "I THINK that's it - can you sit him up? I don't think he can manage on his own - that's a lot of blood for someone his size."

Ben sat him up and then leaned on the table next to him so that Adam could rest against him. Dr. Chesterfield slid his hand under Adam's chin and lifted his head. "Adam? Can you open your eyes for me?" He studied the eyes closely, first one, then the other, and reached for a spoon. "I'm going to give you something for the pain, now." He glanced at Ben. "He's probably in shock now, but it will hurt later. You have to get a lot of fluids down him - water, milk, broth - anything you can. He needs to put some blood back. Keep him warm and still. The hardest part will be keeping the wound clean - I want you to change the bandages twice a day, morning and evening - and keep all the coal dust out that you can. If you see anything like infection, or if it starts bleeding again, bring him back right away." He saw Ben's face and smiled encouragingly. "I know it's frightening, but I think he'll be fine. Probably won't even have a scar. And if he does - well - at least he'll have a story to go with it. About his first bar brawl."

"Yes - at the age of two." Ben was not smiling.

The doctor looked like he wanted to say something, then changed his mind. "I'll get you a blanket you can borrow - it will keep him warm while you take him back." He disappeared back into his supply room and returned with a fleecy blanket, which he cocooned around Adam. He hefted him into his arms and handed him to Ben. "You were a very good boy, Adam - get some rest now. And no more brawls for you for a while."

Adam buried his face sleepily in Ben's neck. Ben held him as closely as he could without risking hurting him.

"Ben…" Dr. Chesterfield hesitated, then took off his glasses and polished them carefully on his vest. "My sister…is a good woman. She means well." He perched his glasses precisely back on his nose. "But - she's not always right. She thinks she is, of course…" he smiled.

Ben nodded tiredly. "Thank you, doctor. For everything. I'm sorry to pull you away from your dinner."

Dr. Chesterfield clapped him sympathetically on the shoulder and guided him out of the clinic.

Barbara was waiting for them just between the clinic and the doctor's house. "How is he?" she demanded anxiously, trying to get a peek of Adam in the voluminous blanket.

"Oh, he'll be all right…" Dr. Chesterfield handed Ben a wrapped package. "If he's in a lot of pain, give him a spoonful. Remember - clean and warm."

"Ben…" Barbara hugged her arms around herself, watching Ben snuggle Adam closer. She dropped her head for a minute, then met Ben's eyes directly. "I'm going back to Boston on Wednesday."

Ben looked at her.

She held his eyes. "Just think about it."

TBC