by Al Lacy
Some ten minutes later, Kurtz slowed his horse as he drew near the Holton Coal Mine. The tall rock formations to the rear of the mine were rosy in the golden sunlight. He saw a large group of miners gathered at the two large shafts where the cages glistened in the early sunlight. Kirby Holton was addressing his men, apparently giving them instructions.
Greg Holton was in the group and happened to look toward the road and see the deputy riding by. Kirby had just finished his instructions, and Greg waved and called out, “Hey, Len! Where you going?”
Kurtz told himself he could spare a few minutes to talk to Greg. As he trotted his horse toward Greg, some of the miners climbed in the cages. The mules at the large wheels were put in motion, and the cages began to descend into the shafts while the other miners waited for them to return.
Greg stepped up to Len as he dismounted. “The lawman business starts early, I see. On your way to arrest somebody?”
Len shook his head. “No. Not today, anyway. I just have a court summons to deliver to a rancher who witnessed that brawl at the saloon on Saturday when that drifter got killed.”
“Oh. Well, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hi.”
“ ’Preciate that. So you got a hard day’s work ahead of you?”
“You might say that, Len. I’ll be working with a small group of men, drilling holes in the walls of a tunnel so we can place dynamite sticks in them in preparation to blast more coal out of the walls.”
“I see. We’ll be hearing some more of those muffled explosions then, won’t we?”
“Sure will.”
Len ran his gaze over the miners who were waiting for the cages to return so they could go down into the mine. “I think you’ve hired more miners in the past few weeks, haven’t you? I see faces in that group I’ve never seen before.”
“We’ve been hiring new men now for about a month.”
“So how many men do you have working for you?”
“Exactly two hundred and fifty.”
Len started to comment, but was interrupted as Kirby Holton stepped up, spoke to him in a friendly manner, then said to his son, “Greg, I’ll be in my office if you need to talk to me before you go down.”
Greg smiled. “Don’t think I need to, Dad. I’ll see you when we come up for lunch.”
Kirby walked away, and the deputy said, “Well, Greg, I’d better go get this summons delivered. See you later.” As he mounted, he grinned at Greg. “Oh yes. And congratulations. I hear you’re now engaged to that gorgeous brunette.”
“Sure am. And thanks. See you later, Len.”
The deputy trotted away, and Greg headed for the closest shaft where the cage was just surfacing. He joined some sixteen men who were going down in the cage.
When they reached the bottom, most of the group in the cage headed their respective directions to carry on their routine work. With Greg in the lead, he and six other men in his group moved down the tunnel to the powder houses by the light of carbide lamps that hung along the walls. There they picked up a full box of dynamite sticks, placed it on a small cart along with an unlit kerosene torch affixed to a wrought-iron stand, and with one man pushing the cart, made their way deep into the tunnel where they would set up the dynamite for blasting. The carbide lamps created spooky illuminated pockets in the enveloping darkness.
Each man was carrying a heavy hammer and a steel rod with a sharp point that he would use to drill holes in the walls of the tunnel in which to insert the dynamite sticks.
While they were making their way down the main passageway toward the tunnel where they would work, two of the men began arguing with each other. Greg looked back to see that it was Wayne Lewis and Earl Selby, who he thought were good friends. Facing forward once again, he kept up the pace he had begun. Lewis and Selby kept snapping at each other, and Greg soon picked up that Lewis had loaned Selby some money a few weeks ago, and because Selby had not paid him back as promised, Lewis was calling him some bad names.
One of the other men spoke up and told them to stop their arguing.
Lewis rasped, “Mind your own business!”
In the lead, Greg felt irritation rise in his blood.
The group turned into their dark tunnel. Their helmet lamps cast a tiny trembling glow, throwing scant light and wavering shadows in their path as Lewis lit into Selby once more. Selby bit back at him angrily.
Greg’s irritation peaked at that moment. He stopped. “All right, you two. That’s enough! No more arguing! Earl, if you owe Wayne money and are late paying him back, you need to meet your obligation.”
Selby’s glance swiveled from Greg to Lewis, then back to Greg. “There wasn’t any time set for when I was to pay him back.”
Wayne Lewis bristled. “You rotten liar! You agreed to pay me back when you got your next paycheck! That was three weeks ago! I want my money!”
Greg stepped between them and ran his gaze back and forth. “No more! You two settle this some other time and some other place. Now let’s get to work!”
The other men were staring icily at the two combatants as they followed Greg deeper into the tunnel. Lewis and Selby gave each other angry glares, then followed. Some five minutes later, Greg stopped the group and ordered the man who was pushing the cart to place it at a certain spot next to the tunnel wall on the right side.
The men had helmet lamps, but also appreciated the kerosene torch when Greg took it from the cart in its wrought-iron stand, and moved along the same wall a few steps, struck a match, and lit it.
Under Greg’s directions the men went to work, using their hammers and sharp-pointed steel rods to drill holes in the walls of the tunnel. However, Wayne Lewis and Earl Selby were still arguing as they worked side by side.
Greg was considering taking both of them to the office and telling his father about their dispute when suddenly Lewis punched Selby hard, causing him to stumble backward into the wrought-iron stand that held the flaming kerosene torch. The impact flipped the torch loose. It sailed through the air and landed in the box of dynamite sticks that sat on the cart.
Instantly, the fuses on the sticks caught fire and began to hiss.
Greg stared at the hissing fuses. “Run, men! Run!”
Deputy Marshal Len Kurtz was heading back toward town from the Fred Jamison ranch at a mild gallop. Just as he was passing the Holton Coal Mine, his horse did a quick jump and almost dislodged him from the saddle as a deafening roar came from inside the mine. As Len was working to gain control of his horse, he saw smoke and flames spew from three of the twelve-inch air shafts like a volcanic eruption.
In Central City, people heard the thunderous explosion coming from the direction of the mine. They were used to small explosions periodically when a few dynamite sticks were set off to loosen more coal in the tunnels, but this was a much larger explosion than they had ever heard before.
At his office, Dr. Dane Logan was at the medicine cabinet in the back room when he heard the loud rumble. He dashed into the office to find Tharyn standing wide-eyed at the open door. Shouts could be heard on the street as she cried, “Oh, Dane! It must be the mine!”
Just as the Logans rushed out onto the boardwalk, they saw Deputy Len Kurtz galloping down the street, angling toward them. He skidded the horse to a halt. “Dr. Logan! It’s the mine! There was a horrible explosion up there! They’ll need you, for sure!”
“I’m going right now,” said the doctor. He dashed back into the office, grabbed his medical bag, and as he rushed to his buggy, he told Thayrn he would be back as soon as possible. He jumped into the buggy and put Pal to a gallop. Frightened people were hurrying toward the mine on the street as he raced past them.
Moments later, when he arrived at the mine, Dr. Dane saw black smoke rising from some of the air shafts on the side of the mountain and tiny tendrils of smoke rising from the large shafts that held the cages.
Kirby Holton was at the cage shafts with his assistant foreman, Art Berman, talking to a small group of half-crazed miners who h
ad just surfaced. The larger crowd of miners had already surfaced and stood around in a half circle, looking on.
Shock showed in Kirby’s eyes and his face was covered with a cold sheen of sweat when he noticed Dr. Dane halting the buggy a few feet away.
Dr. Dane bounded out of the buggy and ran to Kirby, who seemed frozen in his tracks. Kirby stammered, “Dr. Logan! Th-these men just surfaced. Th-they were in the area of the explosion and told me that the explosion was in the t-tunnel where Greg and s-six other men were working! Some of them are buried under rock and coal, and are no doubt dead. The others, including Greg, are partially b-buried beneath the huge support timbers that have collapsed, as well as rock and coal. When these men last saw Greg and the others, s-some were still alive, including Greg.”
Dr. Dane frowned. “Nobody stayed with them? Nobody’s trying to get them out?”
While Kirby was trying to find his voice again, Art Berman spoke for him. “Doctor, we have a rule here, as do all mines. When there is an explosion or a cave-in, every man is to get out as fast as possible. You never know when more of the mine will cave in.”
Dr. Dane took a deep breath. “Those who are buried beneath the timbers and still alive will need my help. I’ll need somebody to take me down there.”
One of the men in the group that had just surfaced stepped up and said, “Dr. Logan, you can’t go down there. It’s too dangerous. That section of the mine could totally collapse at any moment. We were working in that same general area. That’s why we caught sight of them as we were trying to get out. It would be insane to go down there!”
Dr. Dane turned to the white-faced Kirby Holton. “I want your permission to go down there. If I can save lives, I must go.”
Kirby shook his head. “Hal is right, Doctor. It could collapse any minute.”
Dr. Dane gripped Kirby’s upper arm. “But it might not collapse, right?”
Kirby scrubbed a shaky hand over his eyes. “There is no way to know for sure.”
“I must go to those men who are still alive, and I’m going to need men to help get them out if I can save their lives. One of them is Greg, remember?”
“Yes. I sure do,” Kirby replied. “I’ll take you down there myself. I know where Greg and the others were working. Let’s not endanger any more men at the moment. I do want to be with my son.” He turned to his assistant foreman. “Art, if any of them are still alive, I’ll send Dr. Logan back up to ask for volunteers to go down and help get them out.”
Art nodded. “All right, boss. And I will definitely be one of those volunteers.”
Kirby patted his shoulder in appreciation, then turned and said, “Let’s go, Doctor.”
Kirby Holton carried a lighted lantern as he and Dr. Dane were lowered in a cage. By then there was not enough smoke to bother them. When they touched bottom, Kirby led the way. Soon they reached the spot of the explosion. By the light of Kirby’s lantern, Dr. Dane hurriedly checked on Greg with Kirby at his side. They found Greg alive and conscious, though he was in extreme pain. The large beam that had collapsed on him had severely crushed his chest and there was a lot of coal and rock piled on his lower body.
Greg’s eyes were clear and he was alert.
Kirby set his lantern down, laid a hand on Greg’s cheek, and looked at the doctor. “What do you think?”
Dr. Dane’s face was grim. “He’s critical. I’ll be back to him after I check on the other men. You stay with him.”
Kirby squared his jaw and nodded.
Dr. Dane hurried to the other six men who lay in the shadows cast by Kirby’s lantern. They were partially buried by the large wooden beams, rock, and coal.
Kirby was talking to his son, trying to encourage him, and every few seconds, he cast a glance toward the shadows where the doctor was moving from man to man.
In less than two minutes, Dr. Dane returned to Kirby and Greg, his face drawn and somber. “They’re all dead, Kirby. It’s better that I stay with Greg while you go bring some volunteers to get this beam off him.”
Kirby could feel something cold surging up in him like a giant ocean wave. Suddenly it stuck between his stomach and his throat. He shook his head intently. “No! I can’t leave him! You said he’s critical. What if—”
“I understand how you feel, but I’m the doctor here, Kirby. I need to stay with him.”
Kirby wiped a palm over his face and sighed. “Of course. I’ll go after help.” He patted Greg’s cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, son.”
Greg licked his lips and nodded. “Okay, Dad,” he said weakly.
When Kirby was gone, Dr. Dane pulled the lantern closer and examined Greg more thoroughly. His chest was crushed even worse than he had thought. He was amazed that Greg’s heart was still beating. Dr. Dane felt sick all over.
He opened his medical bag and took out a bottle of clear liquid. “Greg, I know you’re hurting bad. I’ll give you a dose of laudanum to ease your pain.”
When the doctor had administered the laudanum and was putting the bottle back in the medical bag, Greg looked up at him gravely. “I’m going to die, aren’t I, Dr. Logan?”
Dr. Dane swallowed hard. “I can’t lie to you, Greg. It is quite likely. I want to talk to you about your need to be saved. Listen closely now, and—”
“Doctor, I’m afraid to die. I do want to be saved. Pastor Mark Shane visited our home a few times and showed Dad and me from the Bible about heaven and hell. Please help me.”
Glad to know the seed of the Word had been sown in Gregs heart, Dr. Dane quoted several salvation verses to him, asking if he understood them.
Greg grimaced from the pain the weight of the huge beam was putting on his chest, sucked in a shallow breath, and said, “Yes, sir. I understand. I want to ask Jesus to save me.”
Dr. Dane led the dying young man in his prayer to the Lord, and after Greg had prayed, he looked up at the doctor, gasped, and said, “Th-thank you. I—I—”
“Yes, Greg?”
Greg Holton breathed out his last breath. His eyes closed and his head went limp.
Dr. Dane took a shuddering breath and looked at the dead young man by the light of the lantern. His face had become a soft mask, unblemished, and colorless. There was a slight smile on his lips.
The doctor whispered, “Thank You, Lord, that You let me get to him before he died. He’s with You now.”
At that moment, he heard the volunteers coming and saw light from their lanterns in the tunnel. When they drew up, there were eight of them—including Kirby Holton and Art Berman, who led the others. Dr. Dane also recognized Willie Dunbar among them, who was a member of the church.
Kirby stood over him, looking down at Greg, his face whitening.
Dr. Dane rose to his feet and said solemnly, “He’s dead, Kirby. There was nothing I could do for him. That beam had done more damage than I realized.”
Kirby felt as if his stomach were pulled hard against his backbone. He worked his jaw as his face screwed up, but no words would come. Suddenly he burst into heartrending sobs. His knees buckled, and Art grasped him to keep him from falling. Talking to Kirby softly, Art guided him a few steps away from where Greg’s body lay and helped him to sit down on the floor of the tunnel, placing his back against the wall.
Kirby continued to sob.
Dr. Dane turned and looked at the other men. “Let’s get this beam off Greg’s body and those other bodies over there. I’ll help you.”
Just then there was a loud rumble, accompanied by the walls and floor of the tunnel trembling. Terror showed in their eyes as they started to turn with escape in mind. Suddenly the tunnel collapsed with a thundering roar in the direction from which the men had just come.
When the roaring and trembling of the tunnel walls and floor stopped, most of the lanterns were still burning. Kirby was groping against the wall, trying to get to his feet. Art was helping him.
One of the men wailed, “We’re tra-a-apped!”
Kirby staggered to the forefront and s
tood trembling, with his legs bent. “With this many of us breathing in this small space, we’ll run out of oxygen in a hurry. We’re—we’re doomed.”
Dr. Dane knew Kirby was right. His thoughts ran to Tharyn and the life they had thought they would have together. He prayed in his heart, asking the Lord to take care of her, then stepped up beside Kirby. “Men, we haven’t much time. I want to talk to you about going into eternity. Willie knows what I mean. Listen to me. I—”
“Look!” cried one of the miners, pointing at the remaining lanterns that were burning. Their flames were flickering weakly, obviously about to go out. “The oxygen is about gone!”
The men began gasping and choking, trying to breathe.
Dr. Dane said, “Let’s all lie down on the floor, right now! Well be able to get air a little longer down there!”
The lanterns were going out one by one as the men were dropping to the floor, mustering every ounce of energy to fight off the viselike suffocation and overwhelming weakness caused by the lack of oxygen.
Suddenly, above the sounds of their gasps and moans, they heard the sounds of picks striking dirt, coal, and rocks in the direction of the main passageway. The last lantern flickered out just as a muffled voice cried, “Hey! Anybody alive in there? We’re here to dig you out!”
All of them began shouting back, letting their would-be rescuers know that they were still alive.
Kirby Holton sucked in a breath. “There’s hope here, men. Apparently there’s not that much rubble between us and them. Stay low and try using as little air as possible when you breathe. It will still take some time to get us out of here.”
In front of the mine office and around the cage shafts, most of Central City’s citizens were gathered.
Women wept and wailed. Terrified children cried, clinging to their mothers’ skirts, and wanting to know if their fathers would be rescued from where they were trapped below.
Cassandra Wheatley and her Aunt Mabel were at the forefront of the crowd, near the cage shafts. A horrified Tharyn Logan was standing near them with Pastor Mark and Peggy Shane beside her.
