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Chapter Three
Xonra had expected to be sitting in the backseat, but the car they arrived in, unlike the sporty little vehicle they’d used to travel from MaryAnne’s memorial service, was one of the few cars that still had a triple front seat, so she was tucked between them for the drive out to the village.
The hour flew by as they laughed and chatted about everything and nothing, finding that they agreed about many things, and when they didn’t, they were able to discuss it in a companionable, not argumentative, manner.
They decided to simply follow the map and look at everything in order. “Seeing we have the entire weekend, there’s really no reason to rush from display to display,” said Glenn.
“There are five different places where we can get a meal, so whenever we want lunch, it shouldn’t be too far to walk,” added Morgan.
“Good point,” said Glenn.
“Thirty acres is quite a large area. Looking at the map, when we go underground into the Big Hill Mine, we travel a long way to come out at the other end,” said Xonra thoughtfully.
“Well, maybe we should do that straight after lunch then, when we’re fresh and rested,” suggested Glenn.
They wandered along the boardwalk, looking into the various stores. Some of them were just storefronts with window displays, others were real period-style shops with attendants dressed in costumes and the wares of the late nineteenth century on display, some available for purchase. Xonra was fascinated by the tinsmith’s store with its metal plates and metal cookie cutters and other goods.
Four women were dipping candles in the candlemaker’s store. They looked to be hot bending over the pot, dipping the wicks in again and again as the candles gradually grew fatter.
“No wonder the candles are so expensive,” whispered Morgan. “It must take hours and hours to make them.”
“And that’s after they’ve assembled all the ingredients. I bet there’s a lot of work involved in the preparation before this stage, too,” added Glenn.
Xonra just nodded. The women doing the candle-dipping looked young, barely eighteen, she guessed. And it was hot, hard work, bending over all day like that for minimum wage. No wonder Jeremiah J. Curlin constantly needed new staff. Surely he could pay them more than minimum wage. Everything she’d seen so far in the stores was very expensive and she knew he was making a lot of money out of the village, although undoubtedly there would be some heavy expenses, too.
They watched the apothecary and his assistants hand-rolling pills, spent some time in the drapery store where visitors could dress in period costumes and have their pictures taken, and decided to look in the candy store later, when it wasn’t so crowded.
The next interesting area was a musket-firing range. Xonra sat on a log seat and watched while the men were shown how to load the musket, then fire it at the target. Like most of the people with them, Glenn and Morgan were hopelessly inaccurate shots.
One of the men in costume beckoned to a small boy standing nearby. The child looked to be maybe seven and was dressed in costume. He stepped up to the range, loaded a musket and fired, hitting the bullseye.
While everyone was clapping, the child handed back his musket, took off his cap and walked around the crowd collecting coins.
Xonra watched him as he handed his cap of coins to the man in charge of the range, who put the money in the till. Oh wow, unfair! The kid doesn’t even get to keep his own tips!
“I’m starving. Let’s eat,” said Morgan. The bakery was just down Main Street a little way. It offered fresh bread baked in a stone oven and served still warm with home-made berry preserves and cheese.
“Yum, nectar of the gods,” murmured Glenn, taking a third slice off the plate.
“Look,” said Xonra, pointing to a sign on the wall. “They make the butter and cheese themselves using the milk from their own cows. The same with the preserves. They grow their own berries to make the jam. No wonder it tastes so good.”
“I remember my grandma making jam,” said Glenn. “She let me stand on a stool and help her stir it in a huge cauldron. It was a summer tradition all through my childhood.”
“Let’s go see the mine now,” said Morgan, jumping up as excited as a schoolboy.
Xonra and Glenn laughed and followed him out of the bakery and down the path into the Big Hill Mine.
At the entrance to the mine, they were given a stern lecture by the guide. “Parents are responsible for their children. Everyone must stay in the main shaft which has been fully restored and is perfectly safe. We’re in the process of restoring some of the minor shafts and you can watch the workers through the iron gates, but must not enter. Other tiny shafts are quite unsafe and no one may enter them.”
He then handed out maps to everyone, reminding the parents to keep a close watch on their children. Finally, they were able to walk down the slope and into the mine. Small lights near the top of the shaft gave enough light to walk safely, but it was dim and a little spooky. Some of the children screamed while teenagers teased each other.
Xonra, Glenn and Morgan stayed near the rear of the group, letting the children and young people get ahead of them. “More peaceful this way,” murmured Glenn.
Both men were fascinated by the old machinery and equipment, Morgan even going to the extent of taking photos of some of it on his cell phone, while Xonra was thinking of all the men and boys who’d spent twelve-hour shifts, six days a week, down mines like this, so many of them dying young from lung disease or accidents. Even today, mining has a bad record for safety, she thought.
They’d fallen well behind the last of their group, Glenn and Morgan waving their arms and arguing amicably about a piece of machinery that Xonra could not identify and wasn’t interested in anyway, when she heard voices talking from a side shaft. Well aware of what the guide had told them, she stood quietly to the side of the main shaft and looked through a locked metal gate, down the side tunnel. Two men in costume were standing in front of a wooden door, one holding the arms of a small boy, while the other unlocked the door with a huge iron key. As Xonra watched, the man on the left opened the door, and the man on the right pushed the boy through, then followed him inside, while the first man locked the door again. What the hell was that about?
Assuming the man was about to come toward her, Xonra quietly rejoined Morgan and Glenn, and waved her hand in front of their faces. “Shall we catch up with the rest of our group, or were you planning to stay here all night?” she asked.
