Promise of Tomorrow by Moore S. Dionne

Author:Moore, S. Dionne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2012-09-18T04:00:00+00:00

Sixteen

May 29, 1889

“Well, Jack-o, guess you’ll have to get used to calling me ‘sir’ now.” Robert Whitfield’s triumphant expression came into sharp focus.

Jack’s spine stiffened. Rage began a slow boil.

The promotion.

After all the grunt work he’d done for Fulton. . .all his plans and hopes dashed.

“No worries, though.” Robert bared his teeth. “I’ll be a good shift manager. The boss has a lot of confidence in me. More than in others.”

Jack saw the bait dangled before him. Robert clamped a hand on Jack’s shoulder, outwardly looking like a friendly gesture, but Jack felt the unnecessary pressure and schooled his features not to show any pain.

“I’ll look forward to working as your boss. But I warn you now. . .I don’t tolerate those who don’t do their jobs.”

Jack clenched his fists, hoping his glare would stab a hole in Robert’s cockiness. His thoughts splintered. How could he tell Alaina the news? He would never be able to afford marriage now. He would be forced to break their engagement. But how could he do that?

Robert took a step back. “Since I get off before you, I’ll deliver the good news to Alaina. She’ll want to know, right?”

Jack forced himself not to react as Robert gave his shoulder a pat and sauntered off. He had no doubt the man would be on Alaina’s doorstep within an hour, gloating, and he could do nothing about it.

He worked fast and hard during his shift. Images of Robert arriving on Alaina’s doorstep haunted him. He picked up his pace and shoveled harder. Faster.

“You’re gonna kill yourself, Jack.” He heard Frank’s voice in his head.

Thoughts of his friend’s condition, of his inability to care for his family, helped bring perspective to Jack’s problems. At least he could still earn a wage. He was unharmed and strong, and he could still hope Mr. Fulton found his theory worthy.

When the greaser came along to oil the machinery, Jack breathed in relief and made his way through the room to the outside. Rain sprinkled down on his face, cooling his body.

More rain. Little Conemaugh bore none of a resemblance to its name now. It raged and slurped at the banks, barely containing its swelling girth. Jack considered what the constant rain was doing to the South Fork Dam. If the Little Conemaugh roared like this, the streams feeding into Lake Conemaugh would be swollen as well, in turn pushing the lake higher and higher toward the crest of the dam.

Only a handful of people seemed worried about the structure. Too many years of crying wolf had cauterized most of Johnstown’s population’s ability to see the dam as a real threat.

But the knowledge he’d gleaned in his research for Mr. Fulton weighed on him. His already exhausted limbs stiffened with fear. God, if that dam goes, we’re all dead.

Losing Alaina would be devastating, whether losing her to Robert or to floodwaters. He couldn’t let either happen.

When he opened the door to his room, a thin, steady stream of water cascaded from the roof.

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