Overload (38 page)

ne conveyor belt, at its nearest point to the walkway, was several feet

higher and sloping upward. Getting onto it was awkward. Nim took a chance

and leaped. As he landed clumsily on the moving belt, on hands and feet, a

sharp edge of coal cut his left hand. He ignored the hurt and scrambled

forward, upward, over loose, shifting coal, nearer to the workman who was

lying dazed and was stirring feebly on a higher portion of the belt. By now

the man was less than three feet from the deadly machinery ahead and moving

closer.

What followed was a sequence of events so swift that its elements were

inseparable.

Nim reached the workman and grabbed him, trying to pull him back. He

succeeded briefly, then heard cloth rip and felt resistance. Somewhere,

somehow, the man's clothing was caught in the moving belt. Nim tugged

again, to no effect. The clanking machinery was barely a foot away. Nim

struggled desperately, knowing it was the last chance. Nothing happened.

The workman's right arm, which was ahead of his body, entered the machinery

and bone crushed horribly. Blood spurted as the conveyor belt moved on.

Then, with unbelieving borror, Nim realized his own clothing was caught. It

was too late even to save himself.

At that moment the belt stopped.

After the briefest of pauses the conveyor reversed, brought Nim slowly back

to the point where he had launched himself onto it, then stopped again.

Below the conveyor Folger had gone directly to a control box, bit a red

"stop" button hard, then backed the conveyor down.

Now bands reached out, helping Nim return to the walkway. There were shouts

and the sound of running feet as more help arrived. Newcomers lifted down

the semi-conscious workman, who was moaning and bleeding badly. Somewhere

below an alarm bell began ringing. Superintendent Folger, kneeling beside

the injured workman, whipped off his leather belt and applied it as a

tourniquet. Thurston Jones had opened a metal box and was telephoning,

giving orders. Nim heard him say, "Get an ambulance and a doctor-fast!"

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"I may not be a blinkin' hero like you," Thurston declared cheerfully,

"but in this town I do have a little pull." He had been in another

room of his home, telephoning, and had just returned to Nim, who was

in the living room, wearing a borrowed bathrobe, his left hand

bandaged, the right nursing a stiff scotch and water.

Thurston continued, "Your suit is being specially cleaned-no mean

feat, let me tell you, on Saturday afternoon. It will be delivered

here later."

"Thanks."

Thurston's wife Ursula had followed her husband in, accompanied by

her younger sister Daphne, who, with her infant son, was visiting

Denver from Britain. The two women were remarkably similar, Nim had

already observed. Neither was conventionally pretty; both were big-

boned and tall, with high foreheads and wide generous mouths, a shade

too wide for beauty. But their breezy, outgoing personalities were

strong and attractive. Nim had met Daphne a half hour ago, for the

first time, and liked her immediately.

"There is some other news," Thurston informed Nim. "The guy whose

life you saved won't lose his arm. The surgeons say they can piece

it together, and while it may not be strong enough to use in a coal

plant any more, at least he can put it around his wife and three

small kids. Oh yes!-and the wife sends a message. She says she and

those kids will be in church later today, thanking whatever saint

they do business with for one N. Goldman, Esquire, and lighting

candles for you. I pass that on in case you believe in any of that

stuff."

"Oh, do stop a minute, Tburs," Ursula said. "You're making me cry.,,

"If you want the truth," her husband acknowledged, "I'm a bit choked

up myself."

Nim protested, as he had earlier, "I didn't do much, if anything. It

was your man Folger who stopped the conveyor and . . ."

"Listen," Thurston said. "You saw what happened before anyone else,

you acted fast, and that couple of feet you pulled the guy back made

all the difference. Besides, the world needs heroes. Why fight it?"

Events, since the dramatic, action-packed few minutes on the high

walkway this morning, had moved swiftly. The injured workman, whose

name Nim still didn't know, bad received efficient first aid; then

had

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been loaded carefully on a stretcher delivered to the walkway on the run by

two plant employees. In what seemed only moments after Tburston's telephoned

demand for an ambulance, a faint siren could be heard from the direction of

downtown Denver and a flashing red light, moving fast, became visible from

the high vantage point, even while the vehicle was several miles away.

By the time the ambulance reached Cherokee plant, the stretcher had been

taken down in a freight elevator and the injured man was whisked away to a

hospital. Because of heavy bleeding and severe shock there had been early

fears that he would die, fears that made the latest news welcome.

Only after the serious injury case had been dealt with, and the ambulance

gone, had Nim's cut band been examined. There proved to be a deep gash in

his palm at the base of the thumb. Thurston had driven Nim to a nearby

suburban hospital emergency room where several stitches were put in.

Nim's face, hands and clothing had been black with coal dust and, after the

stop at the hospital, he had been driven to Thurston's home, where Nim shed

his suit-the only one he bad brought-and soaked in a hot bath. Afterward,

and wearing Thurston's robe, be had been introduced to Daphne, who

competently put a fresh dressing and bandage on his hand. Daphne, Nim

learned, was a qualified nurse and also a recent divorcee. The second

condition was the reason for her current getaway-from-it-all visit to her

sister.

Ursula wiped her eyes with a wisp of handkerchief, then said practically,

"Well, now we know there's a happy ending, we can all feel better." She

crossed the room to Nim and impulsively bugged and kissed him.

"Tbere!-that's instead of lighting candles."

"Hey!" Daphne said. "Can anybody do that?"

Nim grinned. "You bet!"

She promptly kissed him. Her lips were full and warm; he liked the feel of

them, and a momentary fragrance which came and then was gone.

Daphne announced, "That's what you get for being a bloody hero, like it or

not."

,'That part," Nim said, "I like."

"What we all need now," Ursula said, "is a big dose of the jollies." She

addressed her husband. "Thurs, what are our plans tonight?"

He beamed. "I'm glad you asked. We're dining and dancing. With my usual

brilliant forethought I reserved a table for four at the San Marco Room of

the Brown Palace."

"Sounds marvelous," Daphne said. "Can we get a baby-sitter for Keith?"

"Not to worry, " Ursula assured her. "I'll arrange it."

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"And I'm going dancing," Nim declared, "whether my suit comes back or not."

The music-from a lively, talented combo-plus wine and an excellent dinner,

mellowed them all. Earlier, Nim's suit had been returned, seeming none the

worse for its sojourn on the coal conveyor. Simultaneously with the

cleaners' delivery, a reporter and photographer from the Denver Post

arrived, wanting an interview, and photographs of Nim. A little

reluctantly, he obliged.

Soon after, with Nim and Daphne wedged tightly into the back of Thurston's

Pinto, Daphne squeezed his arm. "I think you're rather super," she

whispered. "The way you do things, and handle yourself, and it's nice

you're modest, too."

Not knowing what to say, be took her hand and continued holding it, already

wondering what the later portion of the evening might bring.

Now, dinner was over. Nim and Daphne bad danced with each other several

times, with an increasing closeness to which Daphne made clear she had no

objection.

Once, when the two of them were at the table together, and Thurston and

Ursula were dancing, he inquired what had gone wrong with Daphne's

marriage.

With the frankness which seemed characteristic of both sisters she

answered, "My husband was older than I am. He didn't like sex much, and

most of the time couldn't get it up. There were other things wrong, but

that was the main one."

"I assume that was not your problem."

She threw back her head and laughed. "How did you guess?"

"But you did have a child?"

"Yes. That was one of the times we managed. Almost the only one. Anyway,

I'm glad I have Keith. He's almost two and I love him dearly. By the way,

Keith and I are sharing a room, but he's a sound sleeper."

"All the same," Nim said, "I won't come into his room."

"Fair enough. just leave your door ajar. It's down the hall from mine."

When, for a change, Nim danced with Ursula she confided, "I love having

Daphne here; we've always been close. The one thing I envy her, though, is

having little Keith."

Nim asked, "You and Thurs haven't wanted children?"

"We both did. Still do. But we can't have them." Ursula's voice was

clipped, as if she wished she hadn't brought up the subject, and he left it

at that.

But later, when the sisters excused themselves and left the table tem-

porarily, Thurston said, "I understand Ursula told you we can't have kids."

165

"Yes

"Did she tell you why?"

Nim shook his head.

"The trouble's with me, not Ursula. We both had medical tests, lots of

'em. It seems my pistol will cock and fire, but I feed it only blanks.

And I'll never have live bullets, so the doctors tell me."

"r m sorry."

Thurston shrugged. "You can't have everything, I guess, and we've got a

lot of other things going, Ursula and f." He added, "We considered

adopting, but neither of us is sure about that."

When the women returned they all drank more wine, then danced again.

While they were dancing, Daphne murmured in Nim's ear, "Did I tell you

I rather fancy you?"

His arms tightened around her in response. He hoped it would not be too

long before they went back to the house.

They bad returned an hour and a half ago. Thurston had driven the

baby-sitter home, then all of them sat in the kitchen and talked while

Ursula made tea, with Daphne helping. After that they said good night and

went to bed. Now, Nim was almost asleep.

A sound aroused him-a creak, unmistakably the bedroom door opening fully,

though he had left it ajar as Daphne told him. It was followed by another

creak, then the click of a latch as the door closed. Nim lifted his head

and strained to see in the darkness but couldn't.

He heard a soft pad of feet and the rustle of a garment; he guessed it

was being removed. Then the bedclothes were eased back and a warm, soft,

naked body slid in beside him. Arms reached out. In the darkness

lips-exciting, welcoming-found his own. The kiss was long; it quickly

grew passionate. As limbs pressed closely, Nim's blood surged, he became