For a moment, she thought it was an earthquake.
Then the whistle at the mine entrance began screaming.
Three long blasts.
A pause.
Then three more.
Loretta froze.
She knew that signal.
Every worker in Red Dog did.
Something had gone terribly wrong underground.
Elias was outside splitting firewood.
He dropped the axe and turned toward the mine.
Within seconds, men began running through the street.
Someone shouted that the northern gallery had collapsed.
Another yelled that workers were trapped.
Loretta felt her stomach tighten.
Thomas Rusk worked the northern gallery that morning.
So did Daniel Mercer.
And several other men whose families depended on the money they earned beneath the mountain.
Elias hurried inside.
"What happened?"
Loretta looked toward the door.
"The mine."
He heard the whistle.
His expression changed.
Then he reached for his coat.
"I'm going up there."
Loretta rose from the bench.
"I'll prepare what they'll need."
Elias looked at her.
For a moment, he seemed ready to tell her to remain safely inside.
Then he stopped.
He understood something he'd learned since arriving in Red Dog.
Loretta didn't need him to decide what she could contribute.
She knew the camp.
She knew the workers.
And she knew how to organize food and supplies for people who might be trapped in the cold for hours.
He nodded.
"Good."
Then he turned toward the door.
Loretta called after him.
"Elias?"
He stopped.
She looked at him.
For a moment, fear tightened her throat.
Then she whispered, "Come back."
He held her gaze.
"I'll do everything I can."
He didn't promise something he couldn't guarantee.
She appreciated that.
Then he left.
The entrance to the northern gallery was crowded when Elias arrived.
Men stood beneath the timber supports, shouting questions and demanding information. Several workers had escaped the collapse, but others remained somewhere beyond a blocked passage.
A damaged ventilation line hung near the entrance.
Dust drifted through the opening.
And the timber beams closest to the northern tunnel had shifted visibly.
Elias recognized the danger immediately.
He had worked around timber operations long enough to know that entering an unstable passage without proper assessment could turn a single collapse into a larger disaster.
He approached the mine engineer, a thin, gray-haired man named Arthur Finch.
"How many inside?"
Arthur wiped dust from his face.
"Seventeen unaccounted for."
Elias felt cold.
"Ventilation?"
"Part of the main system is damaged. The upper air passage may still be open."
Elias looked toward the entrance.