The Copper City - Chris Scott Wilson [9]
He jerked a thumb. Quantro groaned inwardly.
“You. On your feet.”
“I just knocked in all the…”
Scheller grimaced. “I know what you did. Get on down there and load ore. You, them and me, we’re all on tonnage. The more ore we get out of this damn hole, the more we get paid. Got it?”
Quantro got it. He rose wearily to his feet and trudged down the tunnel.
***
They both slept the sleep of the dead that night. Pete hadn’t fared any better. He’d been put on pushing the ore trucks out into the open, tipping them, then pushing them back down the mine again. It was a never-ending job and each truck seemed to be heavier than the last. He knew the work wasn’t harder than he was used to that was so tiring; it was the fact he was using a different set of muscles to work with.
When they arrived back at the campsite after dark, they did barely more than utter single words at each other while they wolfed down the meal White-Wing had prepared. She had eagerly awaited their arrival, but her face had fallen at the sight of the two dirty, exhausted men. As soon as they cleared their plates they hit their bedrolls, both snoring almost immediately.
Two weeks after they started at the mine, Quantro walked into the big miner he had coldcocked in the Copper Queen. The long days of hard work had toned up his muscles and now he didn’t become so drained by his efforts. He had even begun to dredge up some humor as he toiled in the dark hole. His partner, the dynamite man, was easy to work with and Quantro had also found Scheller to be fair, even if he pushed them hard.
That morning they had already run two blasts and he was returning along the tunnel to wait for his partner when he came upon the big man. He was standing in a group of miners waiting to go up to the face.
“You!”
Quantro stopped and turned, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. He jerked his head in question.
“Don’t I know you, Blondie?”
“Don’t know that you do,” Quantro answered, making to move on. A huge paw clamped down on his right shoulder.
“Stop, Blondie. I know you.”
Quantro was tired, aching to sit down and let the ringing of the hammer die in his ears, and to allow his shoulder muscles to relax after the shuddering vibrations that had racked through him each time he struck the drill against the unyielding rock face. “Take your hand off me.”
The big man didn’t move, just stared intently into his face.
Quantro looked at the hand. “Won’t tell you twice. Don’t tell nobody twice.”
The big miner’s face cracked into an evil grin. He chuckled with pleasure at his unexpected find. “Now I know you, Blondie. You’re the one that gave me the lump on my head the other night.”
“You could be right.”
“Ha! Now I think I get my own back.”
“Maybe you will, maybe you won’t,” Quantro whispered, shrugging away the hand. How come these things always came back to bite you on the ass? As it slipped from his shoulder he twisted away. The big man came forward, dropping his pick. Quantro dropped the long drill and backed off across the narrow tunnel, the fourteen-pound hammer still in his right hand.
The miner lunged, swinging wildly. The blow caught Quantro on the side of his head. He staggered, the big man’s laughter suddenly distant. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. His eyes eased back into focus to see the huge, hairy face bearing down on him.
Second nature brought up his hands to defend himself. He realized he was clinging to the hammer. He whipped it up and rammed the end of the shaft into the miner’s gut. The big man gasped. Foul breath washed from his mouth, forced in a rush between his rotten teeth.
The muscles of his bulging stomach must have been tighter than they appeared. After one faltering step he seized the hammer shaft. With enormous strength he wrenched it from Quantro’s hands.
With horror, Quantro watched him whirl the hammer