I walked midway the room. The man turned his chair, facing me; he opened his mouth. He had a black tooth in his head. He pursed his lips to speak, but another spoke before him. A fellow leaning against the counter said: “Boy, who air you the daddy of?” The men by the stove batted their eyes. The corners of their mouths twisted.

“Brack Baldridge,” I said.

Laughter rang like a sudden bell. Elbows were thrust against ribs. The men whooped. One began to cough with joy. Fruit Corbitt grinned. He thumped fists on the shelves.

The man with the black tooth did not laugh. His eyes were cold upon me. His upper lip drew thin. “Boy,” he began, “I got a thing to ask you.” The laughter hushed. The one who coughed sniffled and swallowed. “Your pap was amongst the last miners tuck on. And he’s still a-working. Us fellers starved here during the shutdown. We stuck by. Now we hain’t even got work, and your pap keeps drawing regular pay. Where does this stand-in come from? Air you kin to the operators?”

“Why’n’t you ask Brack Baldridge?” Fruit Corbitt inquired.

A man stood up. He lifted a rooster in the bowl of his hands. The tip of the fowl’s comb touched his chin. “My woman says one o’ them Rosses used to court this boy’s mammy,” he said. “Luster Ross’s got ownership in Blackjack Mine. I wouldn’t put it beyond fact they got this boy on the payroll too.”

Fruit wiped hands on his apron. “Don’t plague the chap,” he warned.

Words were hot in my throat. “I hain’t never going to be a miner,” I said.

The man with the rooster scoffed. “Hell shot a buck rabbit!” he said. “You can’t git above your raising. Born in a camp and cut teeth on a tipple. Hit’s like metal agin loadstone. Can’t tear loose. Whate’er you’re aiming to be, you’ll end snagging jackrock.”

I glanced hungrily at the door button.

The man leaning on the counter spoke: “I figger he ought to be a blue-grass lawyer. Sharp devils, the Baldridges. Why, two days ago that Samp traipsed out o’ this camp, taking Coonie Todd with him. Said he was hunting work. Oh, he wouldn’t hit a lick at a blacksnake. That widow woman’U woe the day.”

“Them Baldridges—”

Fruit came from behind the counter. He had taken off his apron. “Let this chap be,” he said angrily. His voice rattled in his chest. I looked toward the tall double doors. I turned and ran through them, almost tripping over the men on the steps. I kept running, drawing air deep into my lungs, and a voice was bold in my ears. “Whatever you’re aiming to be, you’ll end snagging jackrock.” It throbbed in my head like truth, and however swiftly I ran, it sped with me.

I ran all the way to Coonie Todd’s homeplace. The doors were locked, the windows pegged. I knew then for sure Uncle Samp had gone away.