Daughters of the Summer Storm by Frances Statham (good fiction books to read TXT) 📕

her golden curls were pinned into place, Marigold found her black shawl and hurried down the stairs. Her slippers made little noise as she stepped onto the porch and down the side steps that hid the cellar where the hams were stored. Soon, it would be time for the slaughter of hogs. But Julie was not at Cedar Hill to oversee it as she had done the winter before. Surely Crane would not expect her to preside over the killing and the grinding of sausage, in her condition. Marigold shuddered and walked on beyond the closed cellar door.

To the sheltered side of the house she went, her eyes staring downward where she walked. She looked at the base of the camellia bush, but there was no glint of gold in her search.

Looking for the necklace assumed a disproportionate amount of her concentration, for she was trying to keep her mind from Shaun's leaving. On toward the meadow she walked, feeling the sting of the wintry air, the odor of apples that still clung to the limbs of the old tree. She and Juniper would have to gather them soon to make jelly and cider to sip during the cold evenings ahead.

Marigold came to the grave and saw the camellias tinged with an ugly brown—their delicately painted petals no longer beautiful because of the frost. On her hands and knees she searched, until the sight of the man running through the meadow brought her to her feet.

As Crane ran up to her, the expression on his face was alarming. "Marigold," he said, gasping for breath.

"What is it, Crane?"

"There has been an accident in the mine."

The man had never appeared this concerned before, even when the slave had drowned in the subterranean water.

"Is it one of the slaves?" she asked, not yet sharing in his alarm.

"No. It's Shaun."

Marigold's face turned ashen. "What is the matter? What happened?"

"We were inspecting the rails for the last time before he left. And a runaway car filled with ore ran over him."

"Oh God, no!" the girl cried and, flinging her shawl from her shoulders, she held up her skirts and began to run.

"He's still in the mine," Crane said. "I thought it best not to move him while I went for Dr. Kellie. He's asking for you, Marigold. And I promised to get you first, before sending for the doctor."

"Then hurry, Crane. Hurry before it's too late."

She left Crane in the meadow and flew down the path as fast as her awkward body would take her. But at the bridge, she had to stop and rest. The ache in her side could not be ignored.

"Shaun—Shaun," she said over and over and began running again toward the dark mouth of the mine where the crossbeams and dirt made an unholy design against the hillside. The lantern hanging inside the cavernous hole was already lit. Marigold, brushing aside her fear of the dark, took the lantern from its hook and began the journey inside, along the tracks, to find the injured Shaun.

Deep into the mine she walked, her heart beating fast against her chest. The rails divided and she did not know which way to go. She should have asked Crane. To the right? Or straight ahead? She called out Shaun's name. But there was no answer. Finally she decided to turn to the right.

The air was cold and a splatter of water fell from overhead. But Marigold kept on, pushing back her fright; for the love she had for Shaun was greater than her fear of dark places.

Suddenly the earth rocked amid a deafening blast. She fell to the ground, the force of the blast knocking the lantern from her hand. In the flare, Marigold saw the loosened gold-veined rock crumbling from the walls about her, and the crosspiece shifting overhead. Dust overwhelmed her, covering her, making her cough violently. The sound of the tunnel collapsing behind her, the pieces of rock splitting apart made her cover her head with her arms to avoid being struck.

For some moments, Marigold lay on the ground—stunned. Gradually, as the dust settled, she sat up, brushing the dirt from her face and reaching for the lantern that miraculously still burned.

Someone had set off the gunpowder overhead. And now she was trapped in the mine, with no way out.

Her fear of the dark gripped her. Crane had done this to her, she knew, for some reason that she could not comprehend. Shaun's accident had been an excuse to get her inside the mine. Marigold hoped with all her heart that the man she loved had gotten away safely, and was even now traveling back to Charleston, and not buried in the mine with her.

She was drained of energy and will. Sitting in the dirt, with the debris scattered about her, she wondered how long it would be before the oil in the lantern would be gone, leaving her in total darkness.

Cold pervaded her body and her teeth chattered. Hugging herself, Marigold felt the child move. Poor baby—never to have a chance to see the sun. Crane had killed his own child with her.

She watched while the rocks deep inside the tunnel moved, and a part of the wall gave way in front of her. Another cave-in? She closed her eyes and waited. She could do nothing but wait.

The pinging sound was distant at first. Marigold lifted her head and listened to the noise of a pickax striking against the rock. Someone else was in the ruined mine with her. She watched as the hole grew larger, and finally, a man covered in dust emerged from the hole. First his head, and then his body emerged, as he twisted his shoulders to push himself through. It was Shaun. Her heart sank. He had not escaped.

"Marigold, thank God you are all right." He did not seem surprised to see her.

"I had hoped that you were on your way to Charleston, Shaun." The unemotional words sounded incongruous, even to Marigold's ears. She saw the anger