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Alberto's face reddened with rage. “He was here? That bastard was here? Immediately after our Papa was lowered into the ground?” He hung his head, kneading his brow. “He never gives up, does he?”
“He said many things, Alberto,” Maria said.
Angelina spoke up. “Let's move to the kitchen. I shall make some tea.’ Maybe that will make everyone feel better about things.” She went to Alberto and touched him gently on the cheek. “The kitchen. Please direct me to it?”
“Yes. I guess a bit of tea is what we all need,” he grumbled. “Hell. I need something stronger. But that can wait.”
Maria followed along behind them and helped Angelina until they were sitting around the table, sipping on the warm liquid.
“Nathan said that Michael was the cause of the explosion,” she suddenly blurted, swallowing hard, seeing the lines deepening around Alberto's eyes.
“He'd say anything to persuade you to hate Michael. Maria, Nathan Hawkins is completely responsible. Don't doubt that for a moment.”
“But he said that violence follows alongside the union men. Could it be true? It was quiet at the mine until the union began spreading its tales around.”
“Tales?” Alberto shouted. “Tales? You speak of tales when our Papa is lying dead? It's because of these tales of truth that Nathan Hawkins resorted to fencing in the coal mine and placing machine guns everywhere, and that searchlight on the mine's tipple. If our men would've listened sooner to these ‘tales,’ as you choose to call them, then we would've seen investigators coming to this coal mine and would've seen improvements in everything about our life around here. No. Nathan Hawkins is a liar. Don't ever doubt that for a moment.”
“What are the whisperings about? The ones I heard at the funeral?”
“We are going to get Nathan Hawkins. Tomorrow night. When all his men are asleep. In the middle of the night. We are going to get Nathan Hawkins.”
“Do you . .. really .. . mean … ?”
Alberto laughed hoarsely. “Yes. Exactly.”
Chapter Nineteen
“It's all such a nightmare,” Maria said, pulling the satin drapery aside, looking down upon the hustle and bustle of the crowds along the streets and walks of Saint Louis.
“What is, darling?” Michael asked, turning her, sweeping her into his arms. He traced her birthmark with the tip of a finger, then kissed it gently.
“That last terrible night in Hawkinsville,” she murmured.
“The night you became a . . . uh . . . widow?”
Maria lowered her eyes. “Yes. Yes, that night,” she gulped, remembering it so vividly, she felt as though she was experiencing it all over again. If she closed her eyes, she could see again the way the sky had lit up in bright red. Against the blackness of the night, it had been so evident what had happened. The mob had set fire to Nathan's house. And when she had heard the one gunshot being fired, echoing over and over again in her ears, she had known who had been the recipient of that lone bullet. The coal miners had gone to rid the earth of Nathan and they had succeeded. One act of violence had sparked many more, to end up with the death of Nathan. The men had acted while Nathan's men slept, and once Nathan's men had been awakened to the sure sounds of violence, they had fled, leaving Hawkinsville to its Italian inhabitants.
“Can't you just forget it?” Michael asked, holding her closely, putting his nose into the depths of her hair.
“But how could the Italian people perform an act of murder so easily? Don't they have . . . any .. . con-science?”
“Darling, please. . . .” Michael whispered.
“To all be involved in the way they were,” she continued. “It was a conspiracy. I still can't believe it, even though Alberto warned me before it even happened. I didn't believe they would go through with it. And Alberto? He was among those who circled Nathan's house. How do I know that it wasn't even Alberto himself who pulled the trigger of the murder weapon?”
Michael pushed her away from him, to hold her at arm's length, scowling. “But, darling, don't you see? That's why all are protected,” he said. “Each man who chose to go that night held a gun. Each had pointed that gun toward the house, waiting for Nathan's exit. The men were clever enough to have emptied the chamber of one bullet of each gun, all but one gun, held by the man who would shoot Nathan, so that all the guns would have the same amount of bullets left in their chambers once the fatal shot was fired. Only the coal miners know who it was who fired that fatal shot. No one else. And no one is talking. No court in America would send fifty men to jail for that one crime without having proof or a witness to swear to the one who had fired that one shot. So will you please quit worrying your mind so over it? In the eyes of the law, all have been cleared of the crime. So must you. You hated the man. Now he is gone. He's no longer around to make lives miserable. The world is rid of vermin. Think of it that way.”
“I know,” she sighed. “But I guess my mind will be full of the terror of that night for much longer than I have control over.”
“Darling, I. . ..” Michael began, but was stopped by Maria's further words.
“I am so glad you weren't involved. Oh, so glad,” she murmured. “If you had been, I would always wonder if it had been you who had pulled the gun's trigger. I don't think I could bear such a life of doubt about you.”
Michael's face reddened. He had come close to confessing his role in the shooting . . . that it was he who had sneaked the guns to the men .. . that it was he who had devised the whole thing He had thought she would be proud, but instead. . . . She could never know the complete truth. No. Never!
“Just be glad that Mama Pearl's life was saved,” he said. “At least she escaped unharmed.”
“But what if she hadn't?”
