Estep honked his horn again, and Lindy danced by the door, howling.
"I'm comin', dammit," Buddy muttered, buttoning his shirt. The clock on the nightstand glowed ten after eight.
Sally propped her pillow against the headboard and lit another cigarette. As she watched Buddy dress, her jaw tightened, and she rolled ashes from the tip of her cigarette until the fire came to a point. "See ya," she said as he started down the hail.
"Yeah. See ya," he answered, as he closed the door quickly to keep the dog inside.
Outside, the mist mingled with snow, and water beaded on the fur of the spitz. Buddy left it to warn the pack and walked toward the clicking of Estep's engine and the soft clupping of wipers. Before he could open the door, a pain jabbed his lungs, but he held his breath against it, then tried to forget it in the blare of the car's radio.
"Whadya know, Mad Man?" Estep said as Buddy climbed in, coughing.
"Answer me this—Why'd ya reckon Curt wants props for?"
"To shore the damn face, dumbshit."
"An' doghole that goddamn seam, too. He's a ol'-time miner. He loves doin' all that ol'-time shit," Buddy said.
"Whadya drivin' at?"
"How many ya reckon'd walk out if I'm to dump the water Monday?"
"Buddy, don't go callin' strike. I got family."
"C'mon—how many ya reckon?"
"Most," Estep said. "Maybe not Fuller."
Buddy nodded; "I'd say so, too."
"Yer talkin' weird. Curt's kin—ya can't go callin' strike on yer kin."
"I like Curt fine," Buddy said, coughing. "But I'm tellin' ya they's an easy way to run that coal."
"Won't work, Buddy. Operation like that'd put ever' body outa work. 'Sides, land ain't good fer nothin' after ya strip it."
"That land," Buddy said, "that land ain't no good noway, and we could so use work. We'd use ever'body in our hole. An' Storm Creek. An' that piddlin' of Johnson's. Fair an' equal. Know how much that'd be?"
"Can't be much with all the fellers in the line."
"Try on fifty thou. Does it fit?" Buddy slapped Estep's arm. "Well, does it?"
"Where'd we get the machines?"
"Borrow on the coal. Curt's got the deed—just needs some new thinkin' put in his head's all. You with me?"
"I reckon."
They rode, watching the snow curve in toward the lights, melting on the windshield before the wiper struck it. Through the trees, Buddy could see the string of yellow light bulbs above the door and windows of Tiny's.
"Johnson found out who's stealin' his coal," Estep said, letting the car slow up. "Old Man Cox."
"How's he know for sure?"
"Drilled a chunk an' put in a .410 shell. Sealed 'er over with dust an' glue."
"Jesus H. Christ."
"Aw, didn't hurt 'im none. Just scared 'im," Estep said, guiding the car between chugholes in the parking lot.
Buddy opened his door. "Man alive, that's bad," he mumbled.
Inside Tiny's, Buddy nodded and waved to friends through the smoke and laughter, but he did not see Fuller. He asked Tiny, but the one-eared man only shrugged, setting up two beers as Buddy paid. He walked to the pool table, placed his quarter beside four others, and returned to lean against the bar with Estep.
"Slop," Buddy yelled to one of Johnson's shots.
"Slop you too," Johnson said, smiling. "Them quarters go fast."
Fuller came in, walked to the bar, and shook his head when Tiny came up.
"' Bout time ya got here," Buddy said.
"Sal's out yonder. Wants to talk to ya."
"Whadya got? A carload of goons?"
"See fer yerself," Fuller said, waving toward the window. Sally sat with Lindy in the front seat of Fuller's car. Buddy went out and motioned for Sally to roll down the window, but she opened the door, letting Lindy out.
"You babysit for a while," she said.
Fuller laughed as he started the car.
Buddy bent to collar Lindy, but the bitch stayed by him. Straightening himself, Buddy saw, through the rear window as the car turned, his TV bobbing in the back seat.
"C'mon," Estep said from behind him. "Let's get drunked up an' shoot pool."
"Yer on," Buddy said, leading the dog into the bar.
YOU ARE READING
The Hollow
Teen Fiction"Hunched on his knees in front of the three-foot coal seam, Buddy was lost in the back-and-forth rhythm of the truck mine's relay: the glitter of coal and sandstone in his cap light, the setting and lifting and pouring into the cart that carried the...
