Her Healing Ways by Lyn Cote

Author:Lyn Cote
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2010-04-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The watery morning sun had finally burned away the fog. Lon passed another rock down the line. His back felt broken; his arm muscles trembled. He was so exhausted he could have sunk to the ground and fallen instantly into a deep sleep. But each labored breath reminded him that men trapped inside might have little chance to go on breathing if the rescuers didn’t work faster—if they didn’t reach them in time. The old feelings that had plagued him before each battle—the cramping in his stomach, the tautness in his neck—flared to life. He would have no ease until all were accounted for—living and dead.

The Chinese men were taking turns going into the hole, carrying or rolling out large rocks to make room for the injured to pass through. But the progress only inched forward. Lon fought his impatience.

Then Chen Park returned, grinning. “I see men. Touch men.”

“It must be the rescue party,” Lon said, gasping, his breathing shallow and his pulse suddenly racing. “They rushed in and were caught by the avalanche.”

“Three—” he held up three fingers “—under rocks.” He shook his head. “Not breathe. Four still breathe but sleep.” The news horrified but invigorated the men and women still moving rock. Close, so close. Lon and the rest who were still able to work began frantically widening the hole.

Lon passed rock after rock, straining with their weight. His whole body ached and he often found his eyes shutting. But he was used to pushing himself beyond the limits of his strength. The women who had worked all night staggered away to care for their waking children.

Panting and wheezing, some of the older men fell where they stood in line. Younger men carried them near the fire and covered them with blankets. Everyone’s willingness to work until they dropped stoked a flame in Lon’s heart. We’ll save some. God help us.

Chen Park came out backward, gasping, obviously laboring hard. He was pulling a man. Lon hurried forward to help along with the other workers. He could see Digger Hobson’s red hair. Hands grabbed Digger and helped carry him out. An incredible rush of energy charged Lon. He saw it reflected in the grinning faces around him. They had broken through. Finally.

“Chen Park,” Lon said, “well done. Thanks.”

The man bowed low. “Hole big enough for bigger men to go in.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “Hole bigger inside.”

Then Lon noticed Digger’s right foot. His boot looked crushed. Chen Park nodded. “Foot under rock. Bad.”

Lon squeezed Chen’s shoulder. “You did your best. You need to rest. You men have been carrying the brunt since early morning. Rest.”

Chen nodded and motioned toward his fellows. “We go home. Eat. Come back.”

“Thanks,” Lon said again, his voice low and gravelly. He didn’t want them to stop, yet they were only flesh and blood.

The Chinese men walked away, stretching their backs and rotating their tired shoulders. The women and children waved and called out their thanks.

Pastor Willis, who had been waiting for survivors, drove the wagon close to the mine.

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