Coal River by Ellen Marie Wiseman Page B

as if he had seen and experienced things too horrible to talk about. His eyes were the color of smoke, his hair the color of a tarnished penny. Briefly, Emma wondered why the boys were watching Clayton so intently. Were they his brothers? His children? They didn’t look anything like him.
    “This doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Frank said to Clayton. “Now, move out of the way.”
    Emma glared up at Frank, her eyes on fire. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you either.” She gathered her skirt and moved to squeeze past Clayton.
    “Wait,” Frank said. He grabbed her arm.
    She shook it off. “Don’t touch me!”
    Clayton stepped between them, squaring his shoulders. “Leave her alone.”
    “I’m the law here,” Frank said. “Don’t you forget that.”
    Percy and Uncle Otis appeared beside him. Percy was pale and fidgety, while Uncle Otis was sputtering and cursing under his breath, his thin hair sticking up in gray clumps.
    “Break it up, boys,” Uncle Otis said. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
    “You’re nothing but a yellow-bellied dog,” Clayton said to Frank, jutting out his chin. “Kicking the working man when he’s down.”
    With that, Frank threw a punch at Clayton. Clayton ducked and Frank fell forward, landing on his knees. Percy gasped and scurried out of the way. Nally and half a dozen miners stormed toward them, ready to fight. Emma backed away from the men, keeping her eyes on Clayton.
    “Stop!” she shouted. “Please! Stop!” No one listened.
    Frank found his footing and lunged at Clayton, but before he reached him, Nally grabbed him by the collar and punched him in the face. Frank fell backward into Uncle Otis, then scrambled to his feet again and tackled Clayton, blood gushing from his nostrils. Another miner grabbed Frank’s shoulders and jerked him backward. A second policeman appeared and tried breaking up the fight. Two miners wrestled him to the ground. From all over the dance hall, police and miners hurried toward the commotion.
    A strong hand pulled Emma out of the way. It was Levi.
    “Please step back, Miss Malloy,” he said, worry written on his face. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” Beside him, Beulah gripped his jacket sleeve and chewed nervously on her lip.
    On the outskirts of the brawl, one of the policemen drew his pistol. “Break it up!” he shouted. The men kept fighting. “I said break it up!” He pointed the gun in the air, and Emma put her fingers in her ears. He fired two shots, startling everyone. The bullets sliced a string of overhead banners in half and put holes in the ceiling. The banners silently floated down and landed on the gathering of onlookers. The miners and policemen stopped struggling, pulling apart to separate into their respective groups. They straightened their jackets and hats and hair, many with bruised and bloody faces.
    “Are you all right?” Levi asked Emma.
    She ran her hands along her skirt to brush away invisible debris. “I’m fine.”
    How is it possible that Levi is Mr. Flint’s son? she wondered. He seemed gentle, kind, soft-spoken even. Then she remembered he worked for his father. He had to know about the store policies and the breaker boys, didn’t he? While Mr. Flint was clearly an ogre, Levi might very well be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
    Aunt Ida stormed over to Emma, trembling and out of breath. “Now look what you’ve done. What on earth are people going to think?”
    “What I’ve done?” Emma said. “Frank was the one who—”
    Mr. Flint started shouting orders at Frank and the rest of the policemen. “Arrest Clayton Nash! And anyone else who was in on this mess!”
    Clayton and Nally made a dash for the door, but the police cut them off. Three men wrestled Nally to the ground and wrenched his arms behind his back while a fourth beat him about the shoulders and neck with a truncheon. Clayton lifted his hands in surrender, knowing he was outnumbered. When Frank and