The Chapel Car Bride

by Judith Miller

  Thankfully, the entire roof of the room where the cave-in occurred hadn’t collapsed, but the slowdown was costing the company money. And if the inspectors arrived and found in favor of the miners, there would be large fines to pay. Kirby could only hope he’d have enough money to leave Finch before the inspectors got there.

  Along with worry about the accident, he’d had to fend off Daniels’s and Farragut’s demands to notify his father. Realizing Daniels would send word to his father if he didn’t, Kirby promised to send a wire from Longview. He’d done his best to sound calm and composed when he told Daniels he’d pass through Longview on his way to Fern Hollow the next day. Initially the manager had been taken aback when Kirby mentioned he would be traveling to Fern Hollow so soon after the accident. However, a promise to notify his father while on the excursion seemingly set Mr. Daniels’s concerns to rest.

  On the evenings before making runs to the small outlying settlements, Kirby would leave the company truck parked near the mining office. Then, after he was sure everyone was gone for the evening, Jimmy Ray would load the jars of moonshine into the hidden compartment beneath the truck bed. Today that had been impossible, and now he could only hope Jimmy Ray hadn’t gone home. Loading all the jars into the truck by himself was the last thing Kirby had wanted to do, but he couldn’t risk doing it in the morning light.

  Perspiration crept down his neck, and his heart raced at the sound of every snapping twig and rustling branch. He stopped short when a skunk swished through the undergrowth and crossed his path. He instinctively held his breath until the animal was well out of sight, then blew it out. Lucky for him the nasty little creature hadn’t lifted its tail and sprayed him. Once certain the skunk was gone, he continued to push his way through the thicket. They’d been careful to hide their tracks each time they came through. And although that action provided an extra layer of protection from revenuers, it also made it difficult to traverse the hill at nighttime.

  Kirby stopped near a towering pine and took stock of his surroundings. Had his memory betrayed him? He’d been up here at night only one other time, but he was certain he should have reached the still by now. His breath caught when he heard what sounded like breaking glass. He squinted his eyes and slowly moved toward the sound. Finally he glimpsed a flickering light. Moments later, a figure leaned near the lantern and illuminated Jimmy Ray’s features. Kirby sighed, then hissed Jimmy’s name into the darkness.

  The boy went still, then straightened and peered into the night. “That you, Kirby?”

  Kirby answered the boy, now moving forward at a quickened pace. “I’m sure thankful you didn’t go home, Jimmy. We need to load the truck tonight.”

  “Figured we would, but I shoulda been home at suppertime. My ma’s gonna whoop the tar outta me.”

  The boy was only thirteen, but his height and broad shoulders belied his age. Kirby couldn’t imagine a woman giving Jimmy Ray a beating. “Tell her I needed help at the mining office because of the cave-in, and I asked you to stay late. I’ll talk to her if you need me to.”

  The boy grinned, his uneven teeth appearing dull and yellow in the lantern light. “I’m obliged to ya.” He pointed to a wheelbarrow with a long bed and large front wheel. “I got the first load on here. Need to strap it down before starting back through the woods.”

  Kirby looked at the contraption. “Where’d you get that?”

  The boy shrugged. “I made it from parts of an old small wagon I found down at the mine. They wasn’t using it no more, so I tore it apart and made this.” He gestured to the crates he’d filled with jars of moonshine. “Ain’t no way I wanted to carry each crate through the woods.”

  Kirby helped him strap the crates onto the wheelbarrow, and then the boy bent down, grabbed the handles and stood. The crates remained steady. Kirby chuckled. “Good job, Jimmy Ray.”

  The boy grinned and straightened his shoulders. “Thanks. My ma says I ain’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I got me some good ideas once in a while.” He nodded at the wheelbarrow. “Ya want to take it down or do ya want to stay here and fill them other crates with jars?”

  Jimmy Ray’s mother was right. He wasn’t very smart. Otherwise he would have known Kirby would accept the job requiring the least amount of effort. “I’ll stay here and fill the crates. Once you get those in the truck, come on back and we’ll do another load.”

  When he hoisted the last crate onto the bed of the truck, Jimmy Ray’s cheeks puffed out like a muskrat with a mouthful of lily roots. He settled the crate in place and blew out a long breath that flattened his cheeks. “That there’s the last of it.” The boy stood back and admired the truck. “Sure wish I could earn me enough money to get me a truck like this.”

  “If you keep up the hard work,” Kirby said, “I think you’ll be driving the best truck in the county one of these days.” He reached in his pocket, removed a dollar bill, and handed it to the boy.

  His mouth gaped, and his eyes glimmered in the moonlight. “You’re giving me a whole dollar just for helping you load tonight?”

  “And for keeping your mouth shut in case your ma catches you coming home late.” Kirby placed his hand around the back of the boy’s neck and applied a little pressure. “You know you’d be in big trouble if you ever let it slip what we’re doing, don’t ya?”

  The boy wriggled free and bobbed his head. “I done told ya there ain’t nobody can get nothin’ out of me lessen I wanna tell. You ain’t got to worry ’bout me.”

  “Just make sure it stays that way.” Kirby gave him a nod, and the two of them walked side by side until Kirby neared his boardinghouse. “Get on up the hill now. While I’m gone tomorrow, see if you can locate some more corn for us to buy. We’re getting low.”

  The boy shoved one hand in his pocket. “You want me to go lookin’ somewhere off the hill? I don’t know if there’s much left to buy from the miners’ plots. I’ve asked most everyone, ’cept Luke and his uncle Frank. You want me to see if they want to sell any of their corn?”

  Kirby shook his head. “I already told you, we don’t ask either of them for their corn.” Luke could likely charm the boy into saying something that would tip his hand. Kirby was certain Luke would want to know why Jimmy Ray was buying corn and where he’d gotten the money to buy it. Jimmy Ray wasn’t bright enough to withstand a lengthy interrogation.

  Kirby sighed. There was always another problem to solve. Why was life so difficult? “See how much you can get from right around here without asking Luke or Frank.”

  The boy shuffled his feet in the soft dirt near the edge of the road. “Thing is, last time I tried to get more, there was lots of questions. The men said there’d be a feud for sure if someone else was selling shine to their regulars. I told ’em I was selling the corn for livestock feed, but I ain’t sure they believed me.”

  “Just do your best, Jimmy Ray. I’m not selling to their regulars so there’s no reason to worry.” Kirby wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “Go on home. I’ve got to get some sleep before I leave in the morning.”

  Once the boy disappeared into the darkness, Kirby plodded up the boardinghouse steps and inserted his key into the lock. Surely tomorrow would be better.

  Luke walked a short distance behind Nellie and Hope as they descended the hill. He squinted in the early morning sun as he patted Blue on the head. Maybe he was being overprotective of Nellie and Hope, but he didn’t think so. Every time he thought about the two of them traveling in the midst of a possible moonshine feud, an uneasy feeling settled in his gut.

  When Kirby caught sight of them as they approached, Luke shifted his shotgun and waved. “Morning, Kirby. I’m surprised you’re heading out this morning. Hope says you’re going to Fern Hollow.”

  “I am.” Kirby rounded the back of the truck, his jaw rigid. “You have some problem with what I’m doing?”

  The challenge in his voice surprised Luke. “Nope. Just thought you’d be over at the mine.”

  Kirby’s gaze
settled on the shotgun resting on Luke’s shoulder. “I thought you’d be over there, too. I’m sure you’re on the schedule for today, and I don’t think you’ll need that shotgun unless you’re expecting to do a little hunting before you go home after work.”

  Luke shook his head. “Nope. I switched with Bill Withers. Mr. Daniels said it was fine. I’m going to ride shotgun in the back of your truck again. I sure was glad ’cause I don’t want no harm coming to my sister and Hope—or to you.”

  “I don’t think there’s any need.” Deep lines formed between Kirby’s brows. “There hasn’t been any sign of revenuers for a long time. I think we’ll be fine without you.”

  Luke gave a shrug. “I’m not as sure as you. Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do.” He jumped into the back of the truck and signaled for Blue to join him before Kirby could voice any further objection. Like it or not, he was going along. From here on out, no one was going to hurt his sister or Hope.

  As for Kirby, well, he’d decide on protecting him if and when the situation arose.

  Kirby sat down at his desk in the mine office to compose a letter to his father. Instead of sending the wire he’d promised after the cave-in, he’d decided to wait until the inspectors concluded their investigation. Though he hadn’t anticipated waiting a full week before informing his father, the inspectors had, in Kirby’s opinion, been painstakingly slow in completing their task. And while he doubted his father had received any inkling of the cave-in, he needed to post this letter to the main offices in Pittsburgh before such a thing occurred. Wanting to be certain the wording would have the desired effect, Kirby had written and rewritten the letter several times. As always, the need to update his father was imperative. No communication would bring the man to Finch as quickly as unresolved problems in the mines.

  As in the past, Kirby had carefully waited for what he considered the proper time to send a letter. Just one more irritating thing about his life in Finch. Dealing with the mine and his father’s expectations were proving problem enough, but having Luke tail along on his trips with Hope and Nellie grated on his every nerve. Could nothing go easy here? At least there’d been no sign of revenuers, which had made gun-toting Luke look a bit foolish.

  But how could he word this letter so that his father understood things were well in hand? He detailed the cave-in, then immediately explained that his delayed notification had arisen from a desire to free his father from concern until the inspectors had completed their examination. Now that he’d received the report, Kirby was elated to inform his father that the inspectors had declared it was impossible to be certain whether the miners had disobeyed orders and dug into the pillars or whether Mr. Daniels had failed to give the order. They’d found notches in the pillars that seemed to prove digging had occurred deeper than what was safe, yet they declared the notches could have taken place during the collapse. Therefore the inspectors had concluded the miners’ statements and Mr. Daniels’s statement had nullified each other.

  Kirby didn’t include the fact that the inspectors had voiced their disbelief that a miner would put his own life in jeopardy by digging too deep into a coal pillar, or that they had listened when Mr. Daniels declared it occurred frequently because the miners hoped their loads would weigh more for higher pay at week’s end. At Daniels’s remark, the inspectors grunted and claimed such an incident wouldn’t happen if the miners were paid a livable wage. Kirby decided there was no need to include information that would either anger his father or possibly cause him to pay Finch a visit.

  In the end, the inspectors determined the company couldn’t be held at fault. The miners had been unhappy with the decision. And if Kirby was any judge of attitude, the inspectors’ dour faces revealed they would have much preferred to find the company at fault. Mr. Wayfair’s parting words still rung in Kirby’s ears. “This is the kind of thing that causes miners to unionize or strike.” He’d pointed his finger at Kirby. “We didn’t level a fine against you, but mark my words. You may be in for more trouble than just a fine when this is all said and done.”

  Kirby hadn’t included the warning in the letter to his father, either. Instead, he’d written that he continued to befriend as many miners as possible and that he’d attempted to be thorough in his investigation. Although untrue, Kirby further declared there was no evidence of a possible strike or unionization. His father would expect to read those reassuring words. He’d ended the letter with a caveat that though he’d been doing his best to uncover any unrest, the hill people didn’t trust outsiders, so there was always the possibility they weren’t being completely honest with him.

  He hoped his final words would vindicate him if either event should occur before he left town. And leaving couldn’t happen soon enough.

  CHAPTER

  21

  Hope stepped down the narrow aisle to the last pew, where Kirby sat after the late-evening meeting. His attendance had become sporadic over the past weeks. When she questioned him about his absence, he mentioned the need to keep late hours at the mining office. By the time he finished his work each day, he was just too weary to attend chapel meetings.

  She’d considered his response and drawn the conclusion that their daytime runs to surrounding communities must be the cause of his late office hours. With that in mind, she presented him with a solution. Since her father was making good progress, she suggested Kirby teach him to drive the truck. That way he could deliver the supplies and also minister to any in need in the surrounding towns.

  Kirby’s refusal had been immediate and abrupt, but he’d returned the next day to explain and apologize. His father, Kirby lamented, wouldn’t grant permission to drive the truck to anyone except Mr. Daniels, Mr. Farragut, or him. His apology was profuse, though she somehow felt he hadn’t been completely honest with her. Still, she accepted his apology. Since then, he’d been present every night. Each evening she wondered if he appeared at the church service in order to prove he didn’t need help or desire her interference.

  He smiled when she approached. “Good evening. I thought your singing exceptional this evening.”

  “Thank you. That hymn is special to me.” She’d sung “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” a hymn that had been one of her mother’s favorites.

  He glanced toward the front of the chapel car, where her father was deep in conversation with several of the railroaders, then gestured to the pew opposite him. “Please, sit down. We seldom get a chance to visit without anyone else around.”

  “That’s true, but I do enjoy Nellie’s company, and she’s a great help to me. If she’s not handing out tracts and Bibles, she’s helping with the younger children. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” Kirby had been quite clear about the fact that he didn’t particularly enjoy Nellie’s company, and so she felt the need to defend the girl. In truth, Nellie had taken a bit of a liking to Kirby, yet he rebuffed her every time she attempted to gain his attention. “Besides, if Nellie hadn’t agreed to make these trips, I wouldn’t be able to travel with you.”

  “I know.” He scooted to the end of the pew, closing the distance between them, and tipped his head to the side. “I was wondering if you’d heard any more about the possibility of a strike? The other day I was sure I overheard some of the men talking about a union meeting. Ever since the cave-in, the men seem to be gathering in groups and whispering among themselves. I feel certain they’re planning something and I’d like to avoid a strike. The day after the cave-in, you said the women on the hill had been talking about encouraging their husbands to strike. Have you heard anything more? Surely Luke has said something to you. I see the two of you together all the time.”

  “That’s not true, Kirby, but even if it were, who I spend my time with isn’t any of your concern. And if you’re worried about a strike, I suggest you talk to the miners. I’m not going to carry tales for you or anyone else. It simply isn’t proper.” She’d maintained an even but firm tone. She wanted to put an end to his questions about strikes and unions.


  He’d been somewhat distant on their most recent trips, and this latest disagreement might create an even greater chasm. At times she thought it was because she hadn’t given him information about rumors of a walkout, but at other times she thought he was angry that Luke continued to travel with them—at least most of the time. Luke was certain that Kirby did his best to juggle shifts at the mine so Luke couldn’t come with them. Hope remained uncertain why Kirby had become so aloof, but even Nellie had mentioned his lack of affability.

  He nodded. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to do anything that wasn’t proper.” His words came out stilted.

  “Are you still planning on going tomorrow?” Hope asked.

  He tucked the hymnal in the metal rack beneath the pew, then looked up at her. “I am, but you may need to adjust a little. I want to make a stop at Hopkins Fork, as well as Muskrat Creek and Denton.”

  “Three stops?” Her breath caught as she considered the number of supplies she’d need to pack. “Two is the most we’ve made in the past, and you always let me know in advance.”

  He shrugged. “We can cut down on the amount of time while we’re in Denton if we need to. I don’t think folks will complain if you let them know we’re trying to help as many folks as we can.”

  “I’ve never heard you mention Hopkins Fork. How did you happen to decide to make a stop there?” Truth be told, she’d never heard of the place and had no idea how many people might live in the area or even where it was located. “And where is it?”

  He appeared to study the pew in front of him for a moment. “One of the families in Muskrat Creek has relatives in Hopkins Fork. They said folks were in need of help and asked if we’d stop over there.”

  “But they won’t know we’re coming, and we don’t even know if there’s a church or school where we can meet with them. Maybe we should stop at a few houses and pass out some tracts and see about setting up for a regular teaching visit in a couple of weeks.”