Shadows in the Valley Page 2

  “It must be a real worry counting all that money,” Abbey said sarcastically.

  “Sometimes he’s counting his losses,” Finlay said in all seriousness. “Do you remember last year when four hundred men lost their jobs?”

  Abbey certainly did. The morale in town, and especially in the dugouts, had been low.

  “Mr. Mason had to cut costs because the mine was deepened, and it cost more to get the copper out, and then copper prices fell. He has to make difficult decisions every day.”

  “You’ve often said that he doesn’t care about the workers, only the profits,” Abbey said.

  “And I believed that, until recently. I won’t deny it. But I was wrong. He told me himself that he doesn’t sleep at night, worrying about his workers and their families, and he was very sincere. I might have been skeptical once, but I can’t deny he’s always rehired as many as he could when copper prices went up again.”

  In their discussions, Finlay had expressed his own worry about losing his job. In recent weeks, copper prices had fallen to just eight pounds per ton, but Mr. Mason had reassured him that Finlay’s job was still secure.

  “I’m delighted you have found a friend in Mr. Mason,” Abbey said, hoping to soften the blow of her next statement. “But I love Neal Tavis, and one day we will wed.”

  Finlay was alarmed to hear this news, especially as he’d already voiced his objections. He had assumed that the infatuation between the two had ended. But Abbey thought it was high time he got used to the idea that she intended to wed for love, not financial security.

  “I know you aren’t pleased with that idea, but you must forget any notions of me marrying an old man for his money,” Abbey said when she saw his expression.

  Finlay erupted. “I’ll not see my daughter marry someone destined to be poor,” he growled. “I want more for you than a future in a dugout.”

  “Neal plans to buy a farm one day, Father. So, we’ll have a home.”

  Finlay shook his head as painful memories flooded his mind. “Can you not remember how hard life on a farm can be, Abbey? And Neal is burdened with supporting his mother and sisters. That’s no way to start your married life.”

  Abbey was remembering something, too. After her mother had died, her father had suffered a complete breakdown. Losing his wife, on top of two children, had sent him spiraling into a deep depression. Most mornings he couldn’t drag himself from bed. If he did, he got drunk, so they were soon evicted from the farm they’d been tenanting. Her father’s sister had taken them in. Her father and Abbey had then lived with Aunt Brigit, her husband, and her family of five children on their farm in Galway. They had endured those miserable cramped conditions for three years, which was how long it had taken her father to recover. When Brigit had heard about an opportunity for miners in Australia, she had given her brother a much-needed push, and he and Abbey had set off to begin a new life in the colonies. That had been almost three years ago.

  At first, her father had held high hopes of making his fortune in the mines and buying a nice cottage in town. He’d even considered opening a business, but things hadn’t progressed as quickly as he would have liked. For one thing, due to the huge influx of miners in the beginning, there was a shortage of cottages. Life as a miner also meant hard work in dangerous conditions, and the pay wasn’t as good as her father had expected. Frustrated that he couldn’t provide for his family, he fell once again into depression. He started drinking and gambling, which meant the money dwindled away even faster.

  “I don’t want my daughter cleaning pigsties and chicken coops, held hostage by the rain in a country where droughts are common for years on end. Life on a farm is too damn hard unless you’ve got money to see you through the tough times. I want you married to a man who can look after you better than I looked after your mother.”

  “You did the best you could. The potato famine and her sickness weren’t your fault,” Abbey said, trying to quell his anger.

  “Maybe not, but if you have a choice between a hard life and an easy life, you’d be a fool to make the wrong choice. You’ve been blessed with a pretty face, Abbey, so make the best of it.”

  Abbey was horrified that her father would suggest she use her looks to snare a rich husband, and Finlay could see it.

  “Is it so wrong to not want my daughter to suffer?” he asked angrily.

  “No, Father, but you must let me make my own choices.”

  “You can’t be trusted to do that. Not when you fall for the first young man who glances in your direction, and one who’s destined to be penniless at that.”

  Abbey’s quick temper flared. “Neal is a good man, and he makes me happy.”

  “There are many kinds of happiness, Abbey. If Mr. Mason wants to marry you, then that’s what you’ll do. One day, when you’re wearing fine clothes and entertaining guests in a fancy drawing-room in Martindale Hall, you’ll thank me.”

  “No, I won’t, and I’ll not crawl into a marital bed with an ogre like Ebenezer Mason. I don’t care how much money he has. How could my own father suggest such a thing?”

  “It’s better to have servants, than to be one, Abbey. We’re going to dine at the Hall, and that’s that,” Finlay said angrily.

  “I’d sooner be poor and scratching in the dirt every day beside the man I love, than to endure a lifetime of unhappiness just so I could have servants,” she retorted.

  “What nonsense,” Finlay slurred, yawning. It had been a long day, and the beer he’d drunk at the pub was draining him of all energy. His eyelids started to flutter.

  Abbey scrambled to her feet and fled outside, blinded by her tears. As she made her way down Creek Street, she could just hear her father shouting that she make sure her best dress was clean so she could wear it to the Hall on Saturday. She hurried toward Neal’s dugout. When she got there, she called to him from outside.

  Neal’s father had died of a suspected heart attack two weeks after the family had arrived in Burra, leaving them stranded with no money. It had been devastating, especially as his mother, Meg, was often ill. Neal had been forced to start work in the mine before his fifteenth birthday. When she was well enough, Meg did washing at a laundry in Burra, which earned her a few shillings. Without Neal’s wages, though, the family would have been in ruins.

  Neal came out of the dugout. His hair was sandy blonde and framed his face with a few slight curls. He had a gentle and quiet air about him. Abbey launched herself into his arms.

  “What’s wrong, Abbey?” Neal asked.

  Abbey held onto him for a few moments. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that her father wanted her to court the likes of Ebenezer Mason. It was too horrible and humiliating.

  Neal felt her shudder, unaware that it was a shudder of revulsion. “Has something happened, Abbey?” he asked, pulling slightly away from her so he could see her tear- stained face in the moonlight.

  Abbey found comfort in the depths of his warm brown eyes. She couldn’t break his heart and tell him her father would never accept a marriage between them. “Little Ely Dugan has just passed away,” Abbey said as tears welled in her blue eyes again, making them sparkle.

  “Oh, no,” Neal said. “I’m so sorry, Abbey. I know how fond of him you were.”

  Abbey nodded. “Let’s elope, Neal,” she blurted out. “Let’s run away and get married.”

  Neal looked startled. He glanced over his shoulder. His mother was just inside the dugout with his sisters, so he took Abbey’s hand, and they walked along the creek bed. “You know I love you, and I want to marry you, Abbey, but I can’t run off and leave my mother and sisters. Where would they be without me?”

  Neal was right, and Abbey appreciated his loyalty and sense of responsibility. There was so much she loved about him, aside from the fact that he was, in her opinion, exceedingly handsome. She knew that he wasn’t free to do as he wished.

&n
bsp; “Then let’s get married and stay here until we can afford to move,” Abbey said. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but anything was better than having to marry Ebenezer Mason.

  “Has something happened, Abbey? I’d like to believe you suddenly can’t wait for the joys of marriage, but I don’t think that’s true.” He smiled at her, and Abbey felt her heart melt. She touched his hair and returned his engageing smile, but she couldn’t tell him the truth. Instead she leant against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “I just want to be your wife,” she whispered.

  “And I want to be your husband,” Neal said, kissing her cheek softly. “We’ll get married soon, Abbey. I’m putting a little away each week so that we can afford a minister and a nice wedding breakfast.” To help save on expenses, his mother had given him his grandmother’s wedding band for Abbey.

  Abbey brightened. “Are you, Neal?” she asked excitedly.

  “Yes,” he said, enjoying her innocent joy. “Now stop worrying. By the middle of next year, we’ll be husband and wife. I promise.” He was looking forward to it as much as she was. He also knew in a few years his sisters would be working, and their income would help support the family and lighten his burden.

  “Oh, Neal,” Abbey said, hugging him again. “I do love you.” He’d given her something wonderful to look forward to, and, additionally, the strength to face whatever she must in the meantime.

  When Abbey got back to her and her father’s dugout, her heart was a little lighter. Her father was snoring loudly, and, as she looked at him, Abbey sighed. If he insisted, she’d have to dine with him at the Hall, but she was determined to be as horrid as she could, so that Ebenezer Mason would forget any ideas he might have about marrying her.

  CHAPTER 2

  The next morning Abbey didn’t awaken until after her father had gone to work. She’d had a restless night because of the heat and her father’s snoring, yet she still felt ashamed that she hadn’t made him breakfast. She could see he’d eaten a piece of the bread she’d cooked the previous evening, but that wasn’t enough to sustain him through a hard day at the mine. She felt even guiltier when she found the shilling he’d left her to buy food. It distressed her to think he was serious about her courting Ebenezer Mason, but she tried not to dwell on it. Instead, she’d think about her future life with Neal.

  The morning progressed in the usual fashion, but as Abbey went about doing some washing and collecting firewood, she had the terrible feeling that something wasn’t right. As no more of the children in the near vicinity were ill, she put it down to the fact that she had argued with her father. She intended to apologise to her father because she hated any ill feeling between them. She knew that he only wanted the best for herif only he understood that Neal was the best.

  I’ll go to the bakery and get Father a steak and kidney pie for dinner, she thought. They couldn’t really afford such a treat, but she wanted to make up for being disrespectful, and, hopefully, she could sway her father into letting her marry Neal. I’ll get a bottle of ale to go with it, she thought. Father will love that.

  ***

  It was a sweltering day, with a north wind that carried dust across the parched countryside. Abbey was in town at the bakery when she heard the steam-whistle at the mine. There must have been an accident, a cave-in, perhaps.

  Everyone started running towards the mine, including Abbey. She could hear the whistle blaring the entire way, and her heart pumped wildly. Suddenly the strange sense of foreboding she had suffered all day made sense. Sometimes up to four hundred men worked below ground at one time; a cave-in or similar accident could spell disaster.

  By the time she got to the mine, Abbey was gasping for breath, and perspiration bathed her skin. What seemed like hundreds of people had gathered by the entrance: wives and children with husbands and fathers employed at the mine, miners from different shifts, and shopkeepers who depended on the money the mine brought to the town.

  “What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Abbey gasped, trying to push through the throng. “Has there been a cave-in?”

  “The Morphett Engine failed, and one of the mine shafts has filled with water,” someone told her. “The water will soon spread to the other shafts.” It was a man about the same age as her father, a mine employee, and his face was ashen. His work clothes were wet and streaked with mud, and one cheek was grazed. “I was just coming out of the shaft … so I was lucky,” he added breathlessly. He pushed through the crowd before she could question him further to find out if anyone else had escaped.

  Abbey was faint with fright as she imagined her father and Neal underground, drowning. She felt the blood drain from her face, and her legs almost buckled beneath her. Her father had often spoken of the importance of the Morphett Engine. It was used to pump underground water from the mineshafts, keeping them clear for the workers. If it failed, the mine could quickly fill with water.

  Abbey grabbed the sleeve of another worker. “How many men have come out? Has anyone seen my father, Finlay Scottsdale?” She frantically searched the faces around her, wanting to call out for her father but terrified he wouldn’t answer her.

  “By some miracle, quite a few men got out—they were just coming up for a break when the Morphett Engine failed,” the miner told her. “You hold the faith, girlie.” He gripped her arms and stared into her face intently. “Everything will be fine.” He let her go and disappeared.

  Abbey desperately wanted to believe he was right, but she said a silent prayer, anyway, that her father and Neal were amongst the miners who had been coming to the surface when the engine had stopped working. Tears streamed down her face, and dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

  Abbey thought about the argument she’d had with her father. She regretted being terse with him, and she desperately wanted the chance to set things right.

  “If you’re alive, I promise I’ll be a better daughter,” she whispered. And she meant it with all her heart.

  Abbey wandered through the crowd, searching the dirty faces for her father or Neal. But she couldn’t find either of them.

  Suddenly, she jumped when someone clutched her arm.

  “Father!” she said and turned, her heart leaping with joy. But instead of her father, she was confronted with Neal’s mother’s worried face.

  “Where’s my Neal?” Meg Tavis asked through her tears. She was a sickly woman and terribly pale.

  “I don’t know,” Abbey uttered breathlessly as her eyes welled with more tears. “And I can’t find my father.”

  The two women clung to each other in shared grief and worry, and waited.

  Sodden miners were being pulled from a shaft, one by one. They were spluttering and gasping for air. Abbey couldn’t bear to think about how terrified her father would be. She thought about how he had never liked water, not even being on the ocean in a boat. He’d hated every minute of their journey to Australia.

  More men were dragged from the shaft, and several of them had to be revived. Their loved ones took them in their arms, crying with relief. Abbey and Meg knew every second was crucial, so they were in agony. As each man was dragged out, the women squeezed each other’s hands, praying that they’d see Finlay or Neal.

  The miners above ground were frantic to save the men in the shaft below. Several were working feverishly on the engine, desperately trying to bring it to life. The bystanders, who could only watch helplessly, were pushed back so the men had room to move and work. Abbey could hear people uttering prayers out loud. Most of the women and children were sobbing.

  Suddenly a joyous noise broke the air. It was the Morphett Engine spluttering to life. For a moment there was silence, and then a roar of applause.

  “They’ll be all right now, Mrs. Tavis,” Abbey said to Neal’s mother. She was smiling and crying at the same time, overjoyed, refusing to imagine any other outcome.

  Meg’s pained expr
ession softened a little. “I won’t believe it until I see my Neal’s face,” she whispered. “Please, God, spare him and Finlay.”

  Abbey put her arms around Meg’s shoulders and squeezed, trying to comfort her. She felt the same. All she wanted was to see her father’s and Neal’s faces. She prayed harder than she ever had in her life.

  Another few miners were brought to the surface. They were dripping wet and so dirty that it was difficult to identify them. Women surged forward, calling their loved ones’ names. Each time, it was agony for Meg and Abbey as they waited for Finlay and Neal. They were happy for the families of the men who were brought up, but with every minute that passed, it was harder to keep hoping.

  Suddenly the Morphett Engine sputtered and died again.

  “Oh, God no,” Abbey cried, her heart sinking. Men were shouting instructions and dashing about. In desperation and with no time to waste, several ran back into the shaft against the manager’s orders, diving down into the murky depths to search for lost miners. Meg and Abbey waited, hardly breathing, until the men came back again. Twice a man was brought to the surface and revived, coughing up dirty water, but neither man was Neal or Finlay.

  As the minutes dragged on, the two women became weak with anxiety. Someone reported that there had been a partial cave-in caused by the flooding. This was the worst possible news.

  “How many are down there now?” Abbey asked a miner nearby.

  “We’re not sure,” he said. “Someone is doing a head count.”

  A woman pushed forward to the mine’s entrance, calling for her husband. Two miners took hold of her as she sobbed with grief. Fifty-eight miners had been in the flooded shaft. As far as anyone knew, most had gotten out. Jock McManus, the crying woman’s husband; Finlay; and Neal still hadn’t been accounted for, along with possibly two or three others. Apparently, the miners had dug through to a large source of underground water at exactly the wrong time, and the Morphett Engine had failed.