His mother had seemed dumbstruck to see her son. She found her voice and said, “What the hell’s going on, Danny? You talked and talked about getting out, broke my heart, I did my crying and now you’re back?” She swung the shotgun in Stone’s direction. “And this man says only for a little bit.”

“Took a detour, Ma. Shit happens.”

“Yeah, well, shit seems to happen a lot to you.” She lowered the shotgun and looked at Stone. “This man says he helped you in a fight. And from the looks of your face he’s telling the truth.”

“He did. Took three guys out all by himself. And he throws a knife like I’ve never seen.”

She now seemed to appraise Stone in a different light. “You look a little old to be running around like Rambo.”

“Trust me, I feel it this morning,” said Stone. “I take it you are Abigail Riker?”

Instead of answering she said, “Guess you two are hungry. Come on, coffee’s hot and so are the eggs.”

They followed her downstairs where Stone could see the restaurant was already mostly full. Many of the customers were middle-aged men with coal dust rings under their eyes dressed in coveralls with reflective stripes on them.

“Miners off the night shift,” Danny explained.

If Stone hadn’t known better he would’ve thought he’d just walked into a hospital ward. Most of the men sat bent over, in obvious pain. Their hands, arms, legs, backs were all wrapped with something. Butchered fingers were curled tight around mugs of coffee. Cracked plastic safety helmets were on the floor next to feet that were encased in steel-toed boots. The men’s eyes were red and unfocused. Lung-shattering coughs filled the room.

“Hell of a way to make a living,” said Abby in a low voice as she led them to an empty table near the counter. She’d obviously observed Stone’s amazed look.

She made plates for them and a famished Stone took the next ten minutes to devour two helpings and drink down three cups of piping hot coffee.

Abby drew a chair up next to them. She eyed her son and waited until he bit into a fourth piece of toast before cuffing him on the ear.

“What was that for?”

“You left and now you’re back.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be heading out before you know it. Nobody needs to get pissed off.”

“I didn’t say I was pissed off.”

“Well, are you?”

“Yes!”

Stone observed this exchange and then, simply to break the tension, said, “Where are you headed to?”

“Don’t know. See where it takes me.”

“Where what takes you?” Stone asked.

He shrugged. “Dreams. Everybody’s got dreams. Might end up in California. Maybe in the movies. I’m tall and good-looking enough. Maybe I’ll be a stuntman.”