Free Town Square, The by Ava Miles Page A

“Gut–wrenching chaos.”
    ***
    If there was one thing about Arthur she’d come to appreciate, it was that he never exaggerated.
    So when he told her to expect gut–wrenching chaos, he meant it.
    Harriet surveyed the cluster of about a hundred people in what had been deemed the safe area or the Rescue Camp, as Arthur called it. The miners’ wives and mothers were being comforted by a scattering of older men, probably the miners’ fathers. The women were inconsolable, and she found herself brushing aside her own tears.
    She couldn’t imagine what they were feeling right now, with their men either dead or trapped in the mine that had put food on the table for their families. How horrible it must be to fear your children would never see their father again. And part of her realized she knew exactly how that felt, even if their situations were different.
    Staring at the entrance to the mine was ghastly, but she couldn’t seem to look away. A pile of rubble and dirt had slid out of the man–made hole, and men were digging to make a path into the heart of the mine.
    Arthur kept her close to him, introducing her with her fake name, saying she worked at The Western Independent with him. He asked each interviewee the same general set of questions, adding in a few new ones when the person went off on a useful tangent.
    As the day progressed, they learned more about the men who were trapped in the mine. How Bill Powers was only twenty–three, the father of three girls, and helped out at his church. How Mathias Baconey was thirty–four, the father of five kids, and the best third baseman on the community baseball team. How Irving Walters was fifty–eight, the oldest miner in the group, the father of six kids, and the grandfather to twenty.
    The stories were told in halting voices, the interviewees’ fear–glazed eyes never looking directly at their faces, but always at the entrance to the mine where the Rescue Team was frantically working.
    The effort to dig the men out was slow and tedious because the rubble had frozen and was as hard as concrete.
    Her nose ran from the blistering cold. Up this high on the mountain, the wind was brisk and icy. Her teeth chattered a few times, prompting Arthur to nudge her toward the coffee station that had been set up by a handful of women.
    The coffee was stronger and more bitter than any she’d ever drunk, but she thanked the women and asked who they knew in the mine.
    Arthur was teaching her how to talk to people in these situations.
    And making her realize that sometimes the only comfort left to a person was to share his or her story and have someone listen.
    She brought him a cup of coffee too, the white cup nicked at the top from use.
    “Thanks,” he said, resting his notepad against his leg and drinking deep. “It sounds like it’s going to be a long one. Why don’t you take my car and head back to Dare? I can hitch a ride home with someone.”
    She only shook her head. “I want to stay.”
    Those blue eyes took her measure once again. “Okay. There are a few people leaving who can let Maybelline know you’re going to be with us for the duration.”
    “Thank you. She would have been worried.”
    “No doubt. Let’s take care of that, and then we can talk to someone on the Rescue Team. See if they’ve heard any of the men’s voices with their equipment.”
    Arthur found a woman who was leaving, and Harriet gave her the information she’d need to get in touch with Maybelline. After thanking her, Arthur took Harriet’s elbow and led her away from Rescue Camp. Her skin grew tight as they walked toward the rope cordoning off the path to the mine. Harriet realized that if they hadn’t heard any of the men’s voices yet, the trapped men were either all dead or too deeply buried for the sound to travel.
    She was almost afraid to find out.
    Arthur took her elbow when she slipped on the dirty snow, his grip firm. She was glad he didn’t tell her to turn back.
    “Paul,” he