She put down her cup and gazed past Stone, perhaps all the way to the past when her husband’s life had abruptly ended. “Lot of things to worry about when you’re sitting a thousand feet under rock, but there are two big things to keep in mind besides the earth falling on top of you. One is carbon dioxide and the other is methane gas. The first one will suffocate you and the second one will blow you up. The methane got Sam because the meter the company gave him to use to check out a new seam line was faulty. And they knew it. Explosion caused a cave-in. That was it.”

Stone didn’t know what to say, so he just stared down at his hands.

“Yeah, we’re going through a real boom right now, coal and natural gas just pouring out of the mountains. Funny thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Most folks around here use propane or wood to warm themselves and cook with, not coal or natural gas. Maybe nobody else knows the real cost of digging that stuff out of the rock, but we sure as hell do, you hear what I’m saying?”

“Yes.”

“A young man right out of high school with clean urine can start in the coal mines at twenty dollars an hour. Never get that kind of money anywhere else. But by the time they’re thirty-five they’ll be broke-backed and worn out, looking closer to seventy with lungs full of shit.”

She finally looked over at him and her eyes seemed to refocus. One large tear was perched at the corner of her right eye.

“So you staying or going?”

“I’m not going to leave you like this, Abby.” If Stone was startled by his words he didn’t show it.

She reached over and squeezed his arm. He involuntarily grunted in pain.

“What’s the matter?” she said in an alarmed tone.

“Nothing, just . . . it’s nothing.”

“Ben, what is it?”

“One of the guys with the bat got me a little bit on the arm.”

“Oh good Lord, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Abby, it’s nothing.”

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?”

“Take it off.”

He slowly peeled it off and she exclaimed, “Oh my God.”

There was a lumpy black bruise the size of a walnut on his left upper arm and the discoloration had spread down to his forearm.

She ran to the freezer and grabbed an ice pack and placed it over the bruise. “You’re a hero, okay, you don’t have to be stupid,” she scolded. “And if—”

She was staring at his chest and other arm. Stone followed her gaze to the old knife slashes and bullet pocks.

She looked up inquiringly.

“Coal miners aren’t the only ones with scars,” he said quietly.