The Miner's Lady (26 page)

“He's stuck in a sinkhole,” Papa explained. “I'm going to help get him out.”

Chantel looked at her father in disbelief. “What happened? Is he . . . was he . . .” The words wouldn't come. Her emotions ran wild. He can't be dead. He just can't be dead.

“We don't know how bad it is. I've spoken with his father, and he told me that Dante is unconscious and barely visible above the debris. Dante's father has an idea and I'm going to be the one to try it.” He took hold of Chantel's shoulders and smiled. “I don't want you to worry. Pray instead.”

Just then Dante's father appeared. He had a long coil of rope over one shoulder and a canvas bag in his hand. He looked to Papa and nodded. Papa patted Chantel's arm. “Don't worry your mama with this. Let's just wait and see . . . what happens.”

“What are you going to do?”

Her father shook his head. “There's no time to explain. Just pray.”

Chantel watched him climb into the shaft elevator and disappear.
“Just pray,”
he had said. Why did that seem so
insignificant?
I know prayer works. I know it as well as I know my own name.

God, I'm not trying to sound doubtful, but I feel so helpless. Please save Dante and keep my father from harm. Please keep all the men safe as they work to help free Dante.
She bit her lip and forced back tears.

“I thought maybe you could use a shoulder to lean on.”

She turned to find Alfredo. Falling against him, Chantel hugged him tight. “What are they going to do? How bad is it . . . really?” She pulled back and looked at her brother. “Tell me the truth.”

“It's bad. Dante stepped into an unstable area of debris—a sinkhole. It collapsed beneath him, and rock tumbled down on him and knocked him out. When the shifting stopped, it set in almost like concrete. It's going to be hard to get him out of there without . . .”

“Without what?” The turmoil on Alfredo's face made it clear that he didn't want to continue.
He doesn't think I can handle the truth. He knows I will only worry more.
Chantel reached out to take hold of his arm. “I need to know.”

Alfredo nodded. “They'll have to set a small charge so that hopefully the debris will continue to drain down into the tram cars and open stope. Papa is going to go into the sinkhole to secure a rope around Dante so that when the charge is blown and the debris begins to loosen again, Papa can pull Dante free.”

“Why can't they just dig him out? I mean, couldn't they secure themselves with ropes and just pull the debris from the sinkhole?” Chantel questioned.

“Like I said, the rock and ore is stuck around Dante and
holding him fast. It's like the kind of hold quicksand might have. It's pulling downward and packing tighter and tighter. Gravity, in this case, is working against us.”

“But if they set another explosion, isn't there a chance it will pull them both in deeper?”

Alfredo's expression was quite grave. “Not only that, but if the charge isn't set in just the right location and with the exact amount needed, it could prove fatal to them and blow debris upward and into their bodies.”

Chantel could understand why her father had been unwilling to discuss the matter with her. “But why Papa? Why not a younger man?”

“Can't you guess?” He looked at her and shook his head. “He told Mr. Calarco that he was willing to risk his life for Dante to prove to him that the feud needed to end.”

“Blood for blood,” she murmured. Only this time instead of a mule, it was her beloved father's blood they were risking.

“Besides that, with the risk so great,” Alfredo continued, “no one else was overly eager to volunteer.”

Chantel nodded and looked to her brother for affirmation. “This will work—won't it?”

He looked away. “I don't know. It's unlike anything we've ever tried before. I just don't know.”

Chantel looked at the shaft tower and then back to her brother. “How long will this take?”

“They'll have to move quickly, but they will also have to be very precise. I really don't know.”

“I need to run home and tell Nonna Barbato. She came to help with Mama, but she needs to know that Dante's life is in the balance.” She bit her lip momentarily and added,
“Papa's too. I must tell her what's happened, and then I'll return.”

“Why don't you just stay at the house? I'll come tell you when . . . I know something.”

She shook her head. “No. I need to be here. If the worst happens, I want to be here.”

Chantel left Alfredo and hurried through the crowd of men. She saw several other women gathered—friends she knew who would also pray. “My father and Dante Calarco's father are working to free Dante from a sinkhole. You must pray,” she told them. “They will need to set off an explosion.”

Mrs. Nardozzi nodded. “We will pray, Chantel. Tell your mama we will pray.”

“Mama doesn't know anything about this. Marco was . . . killed last night.” Several of the women gasped and covered their mouths with their hands. Anna Nardozzi reached out to grasp Chantel's hand. “He was beaten to death, but we don't know who did it. The doctor gave Mama laudanum to help her sleep. She doesn't need to know about this until it's over and done with. I was just heading home to let Mrs. Barbato know what's happened. She's there now with Mama.”

“We will pray for your mama, as well,” Anna replied. “Won't we?” She looked to the other women. They nodded and closed in around Chantel.

“We will,” one of the women said, patting Chantel on the back.

“I have to hurry. They'll soon be setting the charge, and I want to be here . . . no matter the outcome.” Chantel broke away from the group of women and continued her race against the clock.

At the house, Nonna Barbato sat knitting in the front room. She looked up with a smile when Chantel burst through the door. Chantel flew to the older woman and knelt at her side. Breathless, she related what had happened as best she could.

“I knew you would want to be praying.”

Nonna paled at the news. “I have been praying. I didn't need to know who the men involved were. I only knew that prayer would be the only thing I could offer.”

“I'm so afraid,” Chantel admitted. “I do believe in God's power to make this right—to save them from further harm . . . from death. But Nonna, what if . . . what if . . .” She couldn't say the words.

“What if it is God's will that they die?”

Chantel met the older woman's eyes and nodded slowly. “What if it is?”

“Then God will also make provision for our loss and grief. We cannot know when a man's appointed time might come. Your brother Marco could not realize that when he walked home he would be killed. We live in a world full of evil, Chantel, and bad things will happen. Jesus said there would be many trials and troubles. We must have faith, however.”

“I don't think I could bear it if Papa and Dante were taken from us.” Tears began to drip onto her cheeks. “Oh, Nonna, I can't lose them. I just can't.”

“There, there.” Nonna touched Chantel's damp cheek. “We mustn't speak as foolish women. We will ask God for His help with confidence and trust in Him. No matter what happens, Chantel, God is still in control. He won't abandon us.”

“No,” Chantel acknowledged, “but bad things still happen,
Nonna. You and I know that. Marco died, though I prayed for him. Bad things happen all the time.”

She gave a sympathetic smile. “Yes, they do. Do you remember Job in the Bible? He had bad times come to him. He lost everything he had, with exception to a wife who told him to curse God and die. But Job trusted God and knew that God had given him all that he had, and that God had the power and right to take it away. But through it all, the Bible says that Job did not sin, nor did he charge God foolishly.”

She had known the story of Job since she was a little girl, but Chantel couldn't say she truly understood it. After all, God could have prevented all of the bad from happening to Job, and yet He hadn't.

“Job perplexes me,” Chantel admitted. Realizing the time was getting away from her, Chantel decided the conversation could wait. “Nonna, I need to get back. I want to be there when they bring Dante out.”

The older woman nodded. “I will be praying. Just remember, Chantel: God is still God even when all hope seems lost and nothing in the world is going our way. He may not always do things as we think He should, but He is perfect and holy and His ways are, as well. As Job said, ‘The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away.'”

“Blessed be the name of the Lord,” Chantel murmured.

Giovanni Panetta was uncertain this rescue could work, but he felt it necessary to try. He knew his daughter dearly loved this man. He knew as well that Dante Calarco loved his daughter. A man could not want for more than a successful
marriage for his children and God's blessing on their future. Now as he studied the depth of the sinkhole and Dante's barely visible head and shoulders, Giovanni pushed aside a wave of doubt. He could fear that this might never work, or he could remain positive and trust God to intercede on their behalf.

“Are you ready?” the mine foreman asked his men.

“We've got the rope tied fast to Panetta,” one man declared. “We've secured it to the winch. He won't get away from us.”

Giovanni nodded and answered in heavily accented English. “Has Calarco set the charge?”

“It's set, and he's awaiting our go-ahead. The boys and I will lower you down. You secure the rope around Dante, and when you're ready, let me know, and we'll pull you back up.”

“No,” Giovanni declared. “That boy may need my help. I will stay with him. When the charge goes off, pull us both up. There's only gonna be one chance.”

The foreman frowned. “Are you sure that's the best way to go about this?”

“I'm sure. He's unconscious and cannot help himself.”

The foreman considered the matter a moment, then turned to the other miners. “All right, this is how we're going to do it.”

With everyone duly instructed, Giovanni was lowered into the sinkhole. He was careful to avoid disturbing the sides, but rock still came loose, tumbling below and hitting Dante. Giovanni cringed with each release of debris. The poor man. If he hadn't been killed already, he could still be mortally wounded by the falling rock before they could pull him from the pit.

When Panetta finally reached Dante, he realized that the man was still alive, but barely able to breathe. Giovanni hurried to secure the rope, but it was impossible to get the coil around Dante. Part of his shoulder was exposed, but his arms were buried.

“This won't work,” he called up. “I cannot get the rope around him. I'll have to pull him out myself and hold on to him. When the blast comes, just pull me with all of your might.”

“Panetta, we could lose you both that way. Are you sure this is how you want it to be?” the foreman called down.

“Just do what I say.”

Giovanni moved several larger pieces of rock and was able to get a better hold on Dante's shirt. “Go ahead and tell Vittorio we're ready.”

They gave the signal and waited for the men to call up that the fuse had been lit. Giovanni prayed silently and thought of his wife and children.

“The fuse is set, it'll take about ten seconds,” the foreman called.

Giovanni tightened his hold and counted backward. “Nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . .” He closed his eyes, tucked his head closer to Dante's, and held fast.

The charge went off seconds later, and in a flash the rock moved all around Giovanni. He pulled hard against the sucking force crushing Dante's body. His right hand slipped and Giovanni fought to regain a hold. He buried his hand in the younger man's hair and held fast as the miners above him worked to pull both men upward.