Free Coal River by Ellen Marie Wiseman Page A

Abe’s Livery, and the United States Post Office; the red, white, and blue swags like billowing sheets hung from every roof and window. More flags hung from the streetlamps and surrounded the village gazebo, where a twenty-piece band played patriotic tunes beneath streamers and banners. After the one-o’clock parade, the villagers would meet for a picnic in the park, and later that evening a dance would be held in the hall next to the pavilion.
    By one thirty, the sun was a blazing fireball in the sky, the afternoon temperature climbing to even greater heights than the previous few days. Hundreds of people swarmed the grounds—men in morning jackets and afternoon suits, women in pastel-colored gowns, boys in fancy trousers and shiny shoes, girls in white pantaloons and sailor dresses. The smell of sausage, beer, and roasted peanuts filled the air, along with the snap of firecrackers and the sounds of several foreign languages. Members of the Coal and Iron Police roamed the crowd, truncheons and revolvers on their belts. A few carried rifles strapped to their shoulders. In sharp contrast to the fancy clothes worn by the upper class, clusters of single men, bands of boys, and mining families wandered through the gathering in patched trousers, worn dresses, and tattered shoes. The youngest children were in bare feet.
    Emma had tried to get out of attending the celebration by claiming the heat was making her stomach queasy, but Aunt Ida was having none of it. If Emma was going to live with the Shawcross family and be treated to all the rewards of being kin, the least she could do was accompany them to the festivities. Besides, it was imperative to make an appearance so the townsfolk could see she was a normal young woman. If she stayed hidden at home, it would only fuel the spreading rumors. The last thing the family needed was for anyone to think she was someone to be avoided and feared.
    Now, Emma strolled beside her aunt through the village green, a white parasol balanced on one shoulder. Aunt Ida had chosen every aspect of Emma’s outfit—from the ivory tea dress with a lace collar to the white, patent leather Mary Janes. After all, it was important for Emma to look like a civilized young lady on her first family outing, not a cursed girl who brought bad luck, or a hooligan who grew up passing out theater programs on the streets of Manhattan. Uncle Otis was the mine supervisor, and the Shawcross family had a reputation to uphold. But Emma had refused to pin up her hair, insisting it was too hot to wear a heavy roll of curls sitting on the nape of her neck. She could still hear Aunt Ida tsk-tsking when she had appeared on the front veranda with a long braid down her back. Of course, Aunt Ida was dressed to the nines in a yellow tea gown with a white sash, jeweled galloons, and a wide-brimmed hat festooned with peacock feathers. And Uncle Otis and Percy were wearing their best suits.
    Emma wondered what the townsfolk would think if they saw Uncle Otis huffing and puffing at the dinner table every night, worrying that the fires in the culm banks would spread to the breaker and complaining that the miners and mules were more cantankerous than normal. What would they say if they saw him at the end of the meal, slumped in his seat like a hot, sweaty child, letting his wife mollycoddle and wait on him? Every evening it was the same— Aunt Ida took his whiskey glass, unbuttoned his collar, wiped his face with a wet napkin, and had Percy help take him up to bed.
    Between Uncle Otis’s drinking problem and what happened earlier that day, Emma had enough information to ruin the Shawcross reputation in five minutes flat. All the peacock feathers and pinstripe vests in the world wouldn’t change the truth once it came out. Then again, no one in Coal River seemed to care about the boys getting hurt and killed inside the breaker. Why would they care what happened to her? She put a hand to her sore cheek, wondering if it was still