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Cultural Background |
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Storyteller's Cabin |
Earl pulled up in front of the house where he had seen the woman with the picture. All of the women were still on the front porch and the men, in their Sunday best, filled the front yard. From the porch, he could hear the women humming the old time hymn "Precious Memories," keeping time by rocking in their rocking chairs and fluttering their funeral home fans. The men were in several clusters, most smoking their cigarettes or pipes. They shifted uneasily as they stood around, tugging at the unfamiliar tightness of a starched collar.
Earl jumped out of his truck and started up the walk to the house. A couple of grim-faced men stepped in front of him.
"You best be getting on down the road, Peddler Man, this ain't got nothing to do with you. Ain't nobody buying today."
Ignoring them, Earl leaned around and called out to the woman with the photograph he'd spotted earlier. "Maâam, I've got to talk to you. It's about the dog. The dog in that picture."
"What about the dog?" growled the larger of the men.
"I've seen the dog."
The woman on the porch stood up. "You've seen Shuck?"
"If that's the dog's name, yes, Ma'am"
The yard suddenly fell silent. All of the men within earshot turned and looked. The men blocking his way took a couple of steps back.
The large man glared at Earl and said, "Peddler Man, if this is some kind of joke."
The woman shushed the large man and turned back toward Earl. "What do you mean you saw the dog?" she asked. "He's lost in the mine with my husband, Jack. Shuck went down in the mine every day just like a regular miner. Jack said he worked harder than some down there. He always said Shuck was good luck. Now, speak your peace."
Earl told them the entire story of the black dog he'd seen on the road.
The woman clutched the picture ever closer and closed her eyes to hold back the tears.
"Mister," said one of the men, "I don't know what you saw, or why you're here, but I think it's time you were getting along. You ain't helping."
It was then that an ancient, wrinkled man, whose every pore seemed to be filled with coal dust, stepped out of the crowd and said, "You all hear what this feller just told? Don't you realize where he's talking about?"
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"Wait a minute," another man said, "that's right there at the Devil's Mouth."
"What do you mean? What's the Devil's Mouth?" asked Earl.
The old man spoke. "The company called it Shaft #1. It was the richest coal vein and the biggest, deepest, blackest shaft anybody ever saw. Dug before any type of power drills or any other machinery. Dug by hand. Why, when you started down that shaft, seemed like it went on forever. Seemed like she wouldn't bottom out this side of Perdition. So all the folks around here took to calling her the Devil's Mouth. When the vein played out they dynamited her shut and built the road along there."
"I wonder if it still connects to #3?" someone wondered aloud.
Suddenly, men from the surrounding houses began to fill the yard, hearing what was going on. The old man stepped up on the porch and addressed the crowd.
"The burying's just gonna have to wait. We've got work to do. Shuck's showed the way and Jack may just be in there. Alive or dead, we've got to get him out."
