Read Online Around the River's Bend by Aaron McCarver - Free Book Online Page B

as he remembered the day he got that scar. He had been down in the mines leading a pony out as he pulled a cart full of coal. A timber broke and fell onto Sion’s neck, leaving a jagged slash, and his father simply put some coal dust on it and laughed, saying, “There you are, me boy. You’ll have a fine scar now to show you’re a miner.”
    Sion ran his forefinger along the scar absentmindedly, a habit he had tried to break himself of. When deep thought came upon him, or a decision had to be made, he found himself stroking the scar.
    â€œI talked to the new owner and told him what a good man you are about a farm, but he has two grown sons of his own. They’ll all be coming here to do the farming. So there it is. No place for you, I’m afraid.”
    â€œNo matter. I’m strong, and the good Lord will look out for me.”
    â€œThat He will. I thought, perhaps, you’d be going back to the mines.”
    â€œA thing I’d never do!”
    â€œYou disliked the mines so much, then?”
    â€œThey killed my dad, and it’s no job for a human being.”
    Evans shook his head. “Many a Welshman would fight you over that, to be sure.”
    â€œThey work in the mines because they have to. There’s nothing else to do in this land. It’s either farming or coal mining, especially in this valley.”
    Cradoc Evans leaned forward and put his hand out. It was frail now, although it had been strong ten years ago when Sion Kenyon had first gripped it. Now age had had its way with Cradoc, and Sion was careful to hold it gently. “You’ll be leaving the valley, then?”
    â€œI’ll try to find work here. This is the only place I know. A man hates to be torn up from his roots.”
    â€œAye, the Scripture says, ‘As a bird that wandereth from her nest, so is a man that wandereth from his place.’”
    â€œI’ll not be wandering—but no mines for me, not unless it’s a matter of staying alive!”
    ****
    The sun cast its pale gold light down over the valley, a great wash of antiseptic light. The trees that Sion passed on his way down the winding road shed shadows on the ground like columns. The landscape had a tawny hue. The reds and golds were long gone, brought down by wind. Far to the west the ancient hills hunched as the north wind broke upon them.
    The rains had fallen earlier, and now the air was cold. Sion looked across the way, and to him the hills in their sullen haze seemed to brood some brutal thought. He pulled his coat tighter around his throat and trudged along the road, filled with nothing much except a desire for warmth and food. For the past two weeks he had walked not only the immediate area, where he knew everyone, but the neighboring villages as well. Times were hard, and he had found no permanent work—only a few jobs by the day that paid a few farthings.
    A large yellow dog rushed out from the house that lay to his right, filling the air with a rapid staccato of barking. Sion was good with animals and simply stood and waited until the animal reached him. Then he stretched out his hand and said, “Here, boy.” The dog stared at him for a moment, absolutely still, then cautiously the animal advanced. Sion did not move until the dog had sniffed his hand thoroughly. Carefully Sion stroked his head.
    â€œYou’re a fine one,” he said as he looked up at the house. “This is my last hope,” he muttered, and the dog whined at his tone. “Not your fault, old boy, but it’s been a rough time for me.” He straightened up and started toward the house. Smoke was rising in a wreath of gray from the chimney. It was soon caught by the cold wind and dissipated. Three cows were in a pen to the left of the house, and they put their heads over the fence and lowed at him as if they were expecting their dinner.
    Sion stepped onto the porch, his bedroll over his shoulder, and felt the