Fight Card: Copper Mountain Champ Page 2
The whole town was there, it seemed. Huge crowd of people all held back by cops and barricades. Large spotlights lit the grounds.
Somebody shoved one of the barricades aside and the families flooded in. Wives, girlfriends, children, all rushed to their respective loved ones and Alex was not ignored. His mother, Penny, found him first, throwing her arms around him. He nudged her away. His father, Donald, came next, grabbing his shoulders and looking him over.
“Anything broken?”
“I’m fine.”
“We need to get you home and cleaned up.”
Elizabeth Brooklyn, Alex’s girlfriend, shoved herself between Alex and his father and squeezed him so hard he winced.
“I was so scared, Alex!”
“I’m fine, babe.”
Don Slayton tugged on his son’s arm. “Come on, we’re going.”
“I’m not done here.”
“Your friends are fine, let’s go.”
“I’ll get a ride with Liz.”
“Don’t argue with me, Alex.”
“Who’s arguing? My work isn’t done. Isn’t that your motto, Pop?”
“Stop it, both of you,” Penny Slayton said. “Right now. Let Alex finish up.” To her son, “I’ll keep something warm for you at home.”
Mrs. Slayton led her husband away, but not before he gave a last glaring look back at his boy.
Elizabeth said, “Do you need to fight with him tonight?”
“Every night, apparently.”
“What do you need to do?”
“Check on the guys.”
“You act like you’re the boss around here, Alex. Let somebody else do it.”
“I can’t,” he told her.
She followed him as he made the rounds to as many of the formerly trapped miners as he could, sharing a few words and handshakes with each. Even Flash Gordon smiled and told him thanks for the good words. When Alex and Liz wandered out to the parking lot, she said, “You’re a mess, you know.”
“I feel like a mess.”
“Am I taking you straight home?”
“Not in a hurry to go there, hon.”
“Let’s go to the restaurant then. We can hide you in a back booth.”
***
Liz’s family owned Lizzy’s, a popular family place on the main drag, which her parents had named after her. She steered the big Ford into the rear parking area and led Alex in through the rear door, down a short hallway and into the dining room. The place was buzzing with activity, various food smells mixing in the air, and Alex noted he wasn’t the only one in mining attire. A few of the other diggers came up to hear the latest, and Alex gave them an abbreviated version. He and Liz indeed found a back booth and Alex sat with his back to the wall. The booth, trimmed in faux-black leather with recessed studs, had a tear on his side that somebody had repaired with a strip of black duct tape.
One of the waitresses, Wendy, brought ice water and menus and said: “Your Aunt Sylvie is cooking tonight.”
“Is she drunk already?” Liz said.
“Getting there. Somebody sent his burger back because it wasn’t cooked enough and she flew into her usual rage and let loose a few other choice words, let me tell you. I think she even made up a few new ones.”
Wendy left to check on other tables.
“Your father hasn’t talked to her?” Alex said.
“No. He knows she puts the whiskey in her coffee, though. I think he’s afraid to talk to her because she’s the oldest. You know how it is.”
“Sort of,” Alex said. He drank down his water very quickly. Liz handed him her glass. He drank that down, too.
“You sure you’re okay?” she said.
“Just need some sleep. They’ll want us back down there tomorrow.”
“The old man won’t let you have a day off?”
He shook his head.
“Why do you keep doing this?”
He tried to answer but couldn’t.
“It’s too dangerous,” she said. “Seems like it’s getting more dangerous. How many times has the union brought up safety concerns? They’ll be screaming over this.”
“If they aren’t already,” he said.
“So how many times?”
“Too many,” he said. “Far too many. The last few months, you’re right, it’s been sketchy.”
“Why?”
“I think the loads have been light lately. That’s why we were in the new vein.”
“You think this town is running out of copper?”
“Hardly, but our site might be and if so it’s making the old man sick.”
Copper and other precious metals had been dug out of the mountains of Butte since the mid-1800s. Mining built the town. Two of every five households worked directly for the Arcadia Mining Company while the rest either worked to support the logistics of the mining effort or provided goods and services used by the miners and, of course, the rest of the house. Without copper, there was no Butte. But while the town seemed nice and cozy, behind the veil lay a volatile political situation that exploded once every twenty years or so. There was a lot of money in those mountains.
Mickey’s words flooded back to Alex.
“So do something else,” Liz said. “If the old man is making things dangerous...”
“I’m not going to work with my father,” he said.
“I didn’t say go work with your father.”
“Liz, we’ve talked about this. I save up enough money, we get out of this town, and start over somewhere else. Then I’ll use my GI bill and find something to do with my life.”
“You’ve been saying that for two years now, honey.”
Alex looked down at his empty glass. “I know.”
“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have enough saved yet. Between the two of us we have enough. I know we do.”
“I can’t leave yet.”
“Why?”
“Something. I don’t know what.”
“Is it me?”
“God, no, honey, never.”
Alex and Liz had known each other since elementary school, but didn’t start dating until their sophomore year of high school. Both families approved, but that meant little to them. Both of their fathers thought, if nothing else, they could run the restaurant well into the future, but neither Alex nor Liz had that goal on their radar.
“Ever since I got back,” Alex said, “deep down something’s been nagging at me. It needs to be resolved before we go.”
“Tell me what it is.”
“I don’t know what it is. I’m afraid if we leave now, I’ll take it with me, whatever it is, and I’ll never be happy.”
“That has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You think I like admitting it?” Alex said. “After everything I’ve been through, I got this thing holding me back. I don’t like it either.”
Wendy returned and they ordered. They didn’t talk much while they ate.
***
Alex kissed Liz good-night, stepped out of the Ford, and waved as she drove off.
His father stood on the porch, smoking a cigarette.
“What kept you?”
“We stopped at the restaurant,” Alex said as he went up the walk.
“Your mother...”
“I know.”
Alex stepped past his father and reached for the door.
“You need to get out of that mine and work for me.”
“Not now, Pop.”
“I can’t pay you as much, but you won’t get buried under ground.”
“I said, not now.”
“We have to sort this out eventually.”
“Not tonight. Tomorrow isn’t looking good, either.” Alex went into the house.
Don Slayton blew out a stream of smoke in his son’s wake.
ROUND TWO
Alex took a hot shower and stayed under the spray for a long time. Afterwards he tried to sleep but couldn’t, so he pulled his clothes back on and took a walk. The night’s chill didn’t bother him. The streets were quiet. He headed for the center of town. In the distance, atop one of the mountains surrounding the town, a large, illuminated M shined brightly, the emblem of Montana Tech, the local university, which sat at the base of the mountain.
Alex presently turned a corner and started up an incline and entered the Big Ship, one of the many bars in town that served locally-brewed beer. He found a barstool with a ripped cushion and sat. The place was almost full, a jukebox playing, the chatter of groups and couples filling the room. Four men and a girl played at a pool table near the far wall, making most of the noise. The men sported flat tops and shirts with rolled sleeves which showed off bulging arms. The girl wasn’t anything special, a blonde with a pony tail, interchangeable with the other ho-hum women in town.
Alex ordered a beer and sat staring at the mug.
“Alex Slayton?”
Alex looked left as another man sat beside him. The man was tall and skinny, wearing a rumpled overcoat and loosened tie. “I’m Ray Cooper, Daily Star.”
“Out a little late, aren’t you?”
“You’re hot news right now,” Cooper said. “Care to share a few words about the cave-in?”
Alex drank a little beer. “Not really.”
“Some of the guys are saying the frame in the tunnel wasn’t finished, or finished properly. Any comment?”
“Not right now.”
“Think the union will try and strike over this? There have been a lot of safety issues lately.”
“You need to ask the union,” Alex said. “I have no idea.”
“I’m not the enemy, Alex.”
“And right now I’m too tired to care. It’s not like they’ll change anything anyway. The union will investigate, the old man
will do some sort of mea culpa, and we’ll go right back to same as usual.”
“Can I quote you on that?”
“Beat it.”
Ray Cooper placed his card near Alex’s elbow. “If you feel like talking, I’ll keep you anonymous.” He lifted his mug and moved away.
Alex ignored the card and drank some more beer. Another man took Cooper’s place. Alex started to turn to say, “I told you--” but stopped.
Pete Kovich, the bald and stocky leader of the mine’s rescue team, sat there.
Alex worked up a smile instead. “Hi, Pete.”
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Can’t sleep.”
“I’m not surprised. You’re going back down early, aren’t you?”
“Nobody’s told me I have the day off.”
“I heard you talking to that reporter.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You really believe that?”
“Don’t start with me, Pete.”
“I don’t think you’re wrong, but I don’t think you’re right, either. The old man’s had a grip on the mining industry in this town for decades, but if it comes out he’s putting lives at risk, you can bet there will be a revolt.”
Alex drank some beer.
Kovich said, “Your Pop give you hell?”
“Tried to,” Alex said. “What am I supposed to do? It’s a job. We all need to be there. Some of the guys like it there.”
“Where do you fit in?”
“Somewhere in the middle,” Alex said.
“You should have been gone a long time ago, you know.”
“I don’t have enough saved yet.”
“No, there’s another reason, Alex. You wear it all over your face.”
“So tell me. I’d kinda like to know.”
“You’ll have to look in the mirror and ask yourself that question.”
“I’ve been doing that since I got back.”
The argument started behind them. A man and a woman, voices rising. Alex looked behind him. The pony-tailed blonde was shouting in her boyfriend’s face. The boyfriend sat in a chair tipped against the wall. His girl kept yelling at him. He lunged forward, rising, and smacked her. She whirled, stifling a cry, hands to her face. The other three at the pool table stopped to look but made no other move. Alex bolted off the stool, reached the man in two steps, swung a fast right hook and knocked the boyfriend against the wall. He struck with a thud and landed on the carpet.
The girlfriend screamed again, attacking Alex as he stood there, going at him with long nails and shin kicks. Two of the guys playing pool hauled her away while a third started to swing a cue stick, saying, “This will teach you to mind your own business!”
Alex ducked the swinging cue, pushed forward on his left foot, and sank a fist into the man’s solar plexus. A follow up swing put the man down. The other two joined in, circling Alex. Both were bigger than him, but Alex didn’t hesitate. He kicked one in the groin. That one howled, curled up on the floor, and stayed there. The other launched his own set of swings, Alex blocking, ducking; a few of the punches landed but Alex took them without complaint despite the strength behind the blows. Alex fired a fist into the third man’s jaw. The man didn’t go down. He leaned in for another right, connected again, followed up with a left, and knocked the man off his feet. He started to get up but Alex kicked him once and he stayed down.
Big hands grabbed Alex at the elbows, hauled him off his feet, and slammed him against the bar. His hands were wrenched behind his back. Steel cuffs clicked his wrists together.
“They started it,” Alex said.
“Quiet,” the cop said.
Two other cops pulled the fighters to their feet and the girl kept screaming and yelling. The cops led Alex and the other three outside to the curb where two patrol cars sat with their cherry lights still flashing. They sat Alex away from the others.
The cop who had cuffed Alex took his statement and the statements of Kovich and the bartender and other customers who backed up his story. Alex was told her could press charges the next day if he so desired, and the other guys were taken away. Alex remained on the curb, rubbing his wrists. He didn’t look at Kovich when the stocky man sat beside him once more.
“You were pretty good in there,” Kovich said.
“Uh-huh.”
“Ever consider the ring?”
Alex frowned. “The what?”
“Fighting professionally. It could be your ticket out of town. Your real ticket.”
“You’re joking.”
“I used to fight myself, actually. I can teach you everything you need to know. Maybe get you in the ring for the amateur bouts in the fall.”
“I had enough fighting in the war.”
“Is that why you’re stuck? What happened in the war?”
Alex kept his mouth shut. His lips formed a flat line.
“You’re never going to get out of here with that attitude,” Kovich said. “You got all this stuff bottled up inside and it’s going to kill you.”
Alex started to get up. Kovich grabbed his arm. “Alex, I can help you get all of that out. Just come for a workout tomorrow. If you don’t like it, we won’t talk about it again.”
Alex let out a breath and faced Kovich. “Okay.”
“You’ll love it, trust me.”
Alex rubbed his sore hands. The knuckles on his right were scraped. He frowned at the spots of blood. He said good-night and walked away.
***
His bedroom had always been Spartan with few decorations. The starkness of the walls reminded him that he had never meant to spend this much time at home. Maybe Pete had a point. Alex stared at the ceiling and eventually fell asleep with only the ticking clock on the night stand making any noise, and as he slept his mind filled with flashes from another time, not so long ago, full of gunfire and explosions and men screaming; cold night sweats; stomach-churning terror; he didn’t wake up, though. He was used to them.
ROUND THREE
Alex flipped through the car magazine at the bus stop but didn’t comprehend any of the words or pictures. He eyes stung and he felt tired all over but he had to get back to work. Cars flooded the street in front of him; he and the others waiting for the bus sat watching the passing motorists like they were a museum display.
A blue Chevy Fleetline pulled up in front of the stop and the driver leaned across the front seat. “Alex?”
Alex didn’t know the man. “Yeah?”
“Hop in, I’ll give you a ride.”
“I don’t know you.”
“I’m Matt Wilson. New union rep. We need to talk.”
Alex left the magazine behind and joined the man in the car. As the union rep drove away, the bus turned the corner.
Wilson said, “Today’s my first day, actually.”
Alex looked him over. Suit and tie, hair slicked back; briefcase on the back seat. The only thing that made Wilson stand out was the half-inch ragged scar along his lower jaw.
The car was the latest model, with the new curved “Safety-Sight” instrument panel, where the gauges were placed in two circular clusters. Control knobs sat below in a recessed panel. Fancy stuff. Must be nice being a union rep. An announcer on the radio was reading off last night’s sports scores. Wilson turned it off.
“I want to talk about the cave-in,” Wilson said.
“Everybody wants to talk about the cave in.”
“At the next meeting the union is going to demand an investigation and additional safety measures and oversight,” Wilson said. “No new veins open until tunnels are inspected, that sort of thing.”
“Good luck.”
“Don’t think the old man will go for it?”
“He’s never been interested in safety.”
“Think the union is up for a strike?”
“How should I know?”
“Well the town sure is upset,” Wilson said. “If the old man doesn’t move, he’ll have more than you workers against him.”
“That’s never bothered him before and it sure won’t now,” Alex said. “I missed a lot during the war but the old man never budges. We haven’t had a strike in a long time and they used to get bloody. The old man brings in strike breakers, get it? Everybody gets hurt.”
“The story is he’s kept one of those thugs on the payroll, just in case.”
“Right.”
Wilson made a left turn toward the mine entrance.