The upper floor of the Nice ’N’ Quick was thick with bodies pressed against the window, three deep, some yelling their appreciation for the white-suited cowboy below. Margery and Sven were the only ones left seated, the two in a booth beside each other, as they preferred. Between them were the dregs of two iced teas. Two weeks previously a local photographer had stopped by and persuaded the ladies onto their horses in front of the WPA Packhorse Library sign and all four, Izzy, Margery, Alice and Beth, had posed, shoulder to shoulder, on their mounts. A copy of that photograph now took pride of place on the wall of the diner, the women gazing out, decorated by a string of streamers, and Margery could not take her eyes off it. She wasn’t sure she had ever been prouder of anything in her life.
‘My brother’s talking of buying some of that land up on North Ridge. Bore McCallister says he’ll give him a good price. I was thinking I might go in with him. I can’t work down those mines for ever.’
She pulled her attention back to Sven. ‘How much land you talking about?’
‘About four hundred acres. There’s good hunting.’
‘You haven’t heard, then.’
‘Heard what?’
Margery reached round and pulled the template letter out of her bag. Sven opened it carefully and read it, placing it back on the table in front of her. ‘Where’d you hear this?’
‘Know anything about it?’
‘Nope. Everywhere we go they’re all about busting the United Mine Workers of America’s influence just now.’
‘The two things go together, I worked it out. Daniel McGraw, Ed Siddly, the Bray brothers – all those union organizers – they all live on North Ridge. If the new mine shakes those men out of their homes, along with their families, it’s that much harder for them to get organized. They don’t want to end up like Harlan, with a damn war going on between the miners and their bosses.’
Sven leaned back in his seat. He blew out his cheeks and studied Margery’s expression. ‘I’m guessing the letter is you.’
She smiled sweetly at him.
He ran a palm across his forehead. ‘Jeez, Marge. You know what those thugs are like. Is trouble actually in your blood? … No, don’t answer that.’
‘I can’t stand by while they wreck these mountains, Sven. You know what they did over at Great White Gap?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Blew the valley to pieces, polluted the water, and disappeared overnight when all the coal was gone. All those families left without jobs or homes. They won’t do it over here.’
He picked up the letter and read it again. ‘Anyone else know about this?’
‘I got two families headed over to the legal offices already. I looked up legal books that say the mine-owners can’t blow up land if the families didn’t sign those broad form contracts that give the mines all the rights. Casey Campbell helped her daddy to read all the paperwork.’ She sighed with satisfaction, jabbing her finger onto the table. ‘Nothing more dangerous than a woman armed with a little knowledge. Even if she’s twelve years old.’
‘If anyone at Hoffman finds out it’s you, there’s going to be trouble.’
She shrugged, and took a swig of her drink.
‘I’m serious. Be careful, Marge. I don’t want nothing happening to you. Van Cleve has bad men on his payroll on the back of this union fight – guys from out of town. You’ve seen what’s happened in Harlan. I – I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’
She peered up at him. ‘You’re not getting sentimental on me, are you, Gustavsson?’
‘I mean it.’ He turned so that his face was inches from hers. ‘I love you, Marge.’
She was about to joke, but there was an unfamiliar look to his face, something serious and vulnerable, and the words stilled on her lips. His eyes searched hers, and his fingers closed around her own, as if his hand might say what he wasn’t able to. She held his gaze, and then, as a roar went up in the diner, she looked away. Below them Tex Lafayette struck up with ‘I Was Born in the Valley’, to loud whoops of approval.
‘Oh, boy, those girls are going to go hog wild now,’ she murmured.
‘I think what you meant to say is “I love you too”,’ he said, after a minute.
‘Those dynamite sticks have done something to your ears. I’m sure I said it ages ago,’ she said, and shaking his head, he pulled her towards him again and kissed her until she stopped grinning.
It didn’t matter where they’d said they were going to meet, Alice thought, as she fought her way through the teeming town square: the place was so dark and dense with people that she had almost no chance of finding her friends. The air was thick with the smell of cordite from firecrackers, cigarette smoke, beer and the burned-sugar scent of cotton candy from the stalls that had sprung up for the evening, but she could make out almost none of it. Wherever she went, there was a brief, audible intake of breath and people would back away, frowning and clutching their noses. ‘Lady, you got sprayed by a skunk!’ a freckled youth yelled, as she passed him.
‘You don’t say,’ she answered crossly.
‘Oh, good Lord.’ Two girls pulled back, grimacing at Alice. ‘Is that Van Cleve’s English wife?’
Alice felt the people part like waves around her as she drew closer to the stage.
It was a minute before she saw him. Bennett was standing over near the corner of the temporary bar, beaming, a Hudepohl beer in his hand. She stared at him, at his easy smile, his shoulders loose and relaxed in his good blue shirt. She observed, absently, that he seemed so much more at ease when he wasn’t with her. Her surprise at his not being at work after all was slowly replaced by a kind of wistfulness, a remembrance of the man she had fallen in love with. As she watched, wondering whether to walk over and confide in him about her disastrous evening, a girl standing just to his left turned, and held up a bottle of cola. It was Peggy Foreman. She leaned in close and said something that made him laugh, and he nodded, his eyes still on Tex Lafayette, then he looked back at her, and his face creased into a goofy smile. She wanted to run up to him then, to push that girl out of the way. To take her place in the arms of her husband, have him smile tenderly at her as he had before they were married. But even as she stood, people were backing away from her, laughing or muttering: Skunk. She felt her eyes brim with tears and, head down, began to push her way back through the crowd.
‘Hey!’
Alice’s jaw jutted as she wound her way through the jostling bodies, ignoring the jeers and laughter that seemed to swell in bursts around her, the music fading into the distance. She was grateful that the dark meant barely anybody could see who it was as she wiped the tears away.
‘Good Lord. Did you catch that smell?’
‘Hey! … Alice!’
Her head spun round and she saw Fred Guisler pushing his way through the crowd towards her, his arm outstretched. ‘You okay?’
It took him a couple of seconds to register the smell; she saw shock flicker across his features – a silent whoa – and then, almost immediately, his determined attempt to hide it. He placed an arm around her shoulders, resolutely steering her through the crowd. ‘C’mon. Let’s get you back to the library. Move over there, would you? Coming through.’
It took them ten minutes to walk back up the dark road. As soon as they were out of the centre of town, away from the crowds. Alice stepped out of the shelter of his arm and took herself to the side of the road. ‘You’re very kind. But you really don’t need to.’
‘It’s fine. Got almost no sense of smell anyway. First horse I ever broke caught me in the nose with a back foot and I’ve never been the same since.’
She knew he was lying, but it was kind and she shot him a rueful smile. ‘I couldn’t see for sure, but I think it was a skunk. It just stopped in front of me and –’