Chapters (53)
- Cover
- About Alison Stuart
- Also by Alison Stuart
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- Preview of The Goldminer's Sister
The youngest of the trio, Tregloan, grinned. ‘It’s for the Knockers,’ he said, then, seeing the puzzled frown on Alec’s face, added, ‘Do you not have the Knockers in the mines in Scotland?’
Alec shook his head.
‘They’re little dwarfish creatures that inhabit the mine and watch out for us poor miners. If you hear them a-knock-knockknocking, that’s their way of warning you that there’s trouble,’ Trevalyn said.
Alec laughed. ‘You mean that the knocking that foretells a collapse is those little fellows?’
Every man around the table nodded.
‘In Wales, we call them the Bwca,’ Morgan said. ‘And there’s some that say the knocking is them hammering away and causing the fall.’ He shrugged. ‘Me, I prefer to think they’re on our side, so they get our pasty to keep ’em happy.’
Alec shook his head. Miners were a superstitious lot and no less so where he had come from, although the Knockers were new to him. The men returned to work and as the day ticked into evening, Alec glanced at his watch. ‘It’s late. Call it a day, boys.’
As he followed the crew out of the mine, he paused to glance down the dark shaft that had been sunk in the floor of the cavern. Only the faintest light showed where a team of men were working on a new lead, sweating in the cramped, dust-filled tunnel. The echo of the mallet striking the drill bit drifted up the shaft in a steady cadence. One man would hold the drill bit, the other strike it. Strike … turn … strike … turn. The new pneumatic drills would change mining forever.
Outside, Alec shrugged on his coat, shoving his hands into its pockets as he walked down the hill toward the light of his small cottage where his brother would be waiting for him. He thought about his childhood in Wishaw and the life of the coal miners—and the deaths. Had he moved so far from that life? He The Goldminer’s Sister 15 had substituted coal dust for gold dust and a pick for a pen, but his days were still spent in the dark and damp. He wanted to move into the light and the fresh air, turn his hand to the land, but that was a dream beyond the salary he earned.
As he turned onto the path leading to his front door, he took a breath and looked up at the pinpricks of the stars in the velvet sky. He stretched his stiff shoulders, grateful for the welcoming light that burned in the window and the curl of smoke from the chimney.
‘You’re late, Alec.’
Ian McLeod sat at the table, the old family bible open in front of him, making notes on a sheet of paper.