Love's Abiding Joy (Love Comes Softly #4)(31)

There was nothing to speed up the minutes as Willie waited. Time after time he started down the mine tunnel, only to think of Scottie's words and turn back.

After what seemed like an eternity, another wagon pulled up. A man whom Willie had seen only once before jumped to the ground before the wagon even stopped rolling. He stopped briefly to touch the face of Andy, give a brief nod to Willie, and then he ran into the entrance of the mine. He did not even carry a lantern.

A woman approached more slowly. Already her face was tear-streaked and her eyes swollen from weeping.

"Is this yer son?" asked Willie with concern in his voice.

The woman knelt beside the boy and smoothed his hair with her hand and wiped the dust from his face with an edge of her simple gown.

"No," she said, her voice trembling. "It's my boy still in there."



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"I'm sorry," said Willie.

"We've told 'em--over an' over we've warned 'em. 'Don't go near those mines,' we've said. 'They're not safe.' But being' boys they jest gotta find out fer themselves." She was sobbing softly, not bothering with the tears that ran down her cheeks.

"Somebody should do something 'bout those caves," the woman went on. "Ya never know whose child might be next."

Willie thought of his own two boys. "We'll git a permit to dynamite 'em, ma'am, jest as soon as we git these folks out."

The boy stirred and the woman spoke to him. "It's okay, Andy. Casey has gone fer yer ma an' pa. They should be here anytime now. They'll git ya on home an' look to thet foot."

Andy, relieved, closed his eyes again.

Willie scanned the hills again and could see another wagon approaching in the distance. It was not long until Andy's folks arrived and the mother was running to him with shrieks and cries. Willie feared that she was going to have hysterics, but her husband calmed her. She fell on the ground beside her son and alternated between scoldings and endearments. The man knelt over the foot and began to prod the ankle. The boy cried out in pain, and the father grimaced and then went about preparing a makeshift cast. It was not a pleasant task. The boy screamed again and again as the foot was straightened and bound. Everyone present had broken into a cold sweat before the ordeal was over. At length the father's gruesome task was done and he buried his face in his hands and sobbed. And still there was no sign of life from the mouth of the mine.

"How long they been in there?" asked one of the mothers.

"I've long since lost track of time," answered Willie. "Seems forever. At least there's been no more rumbles. Thet's a good sign."

He paced back and forth and again ventured into the cave a short distance; and then he heard the scraping and sliding of scuffling feet, and as he strained forward he could see the faint light of a lantern reflecting off the tunnel wall.

He pushed forward more eagerly and soon was face to face with Scottie. Scottie carried the front end of a makeshift stretcher made from broken timbers and Lane stumbled along behind carrying the other end. On the stretcher lay Clark. His



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face was deathly white and blood-smeared, and the arm that dangled at his side swung lifelessly back and forth.

"Oh, dear God," prayed Willie, and then to the men, "Is he dead?"

Scottie did not answer. Lane finally dared to voice a quiet, "Not quite."

Willie took the lantern that swung from one corner of the stretcher and led the way. As he turned to check on the progress of the men behind him, he noticed the third man. It was the boy's father, and he too bore a burden. In his arms he carried his boy. Willie's eyes asked the question, and this time Scottie answered. "No," was all he said.



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Chapter Fourteen




A Day of a Million Years



They took Clark to the ranch on a makeshift bed in the wagon. Even in his unconscious state, he groaned occasionally. They tried to drive as carefully as they could, but the jarring vehicle was distressful at best and a torment at its worst.

Scottie guided the team, turning this way and that as he snaked a pathway home, trying his best to miss chuckholes and bumps. Willie sat with Clark, steadying him and bathing his face with water from the canteen. Except for the lump on his head from the falling beam and the badly injured leg, Clark seemed to have no other wounds. Willie dared to hope that the head injury would be a mild concussion and that Clark would not suffer any serious effects from it.

The leg was another matter. As Willie looked at the severely broken leg with the bone splinter projecting from the skin, he shuddered. How could such a leg heal without the help of a doctor? "Oh, dear God," prayed Willie, "please show us what to do."

As the wagon neared the ranch, an anxious Marty and



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Missie hurried out into the yard. Willie chided himself for not thinking to go ahead and prepare his womenfolk, and he jumped from the slow-moving wagon and asked Lane to watch Clark, and Scottie to drive as slowly as he knew how. Then Willie quickened his stride and reached the women slightly ahead of the wagon.

"Clark been hurt?" gasped Marty.

Willie nodded.

"Bad?" cried Missie.