Katerina's Wish by Jeannie Mobley Page B

help grinning back.
    â€œSo I am,” I said. “What are we doing first?”
    He picked up a stick and scratched out a square on the ground. “This is where we will build it,” he said. “And here is what we’ll need.” He took a scrap of newspaper from his pocket, on which he had written a list of materials.
    â€œCan we really get all this from the mine dump?” It wasn’t a long list, but it was more than I imagined we could get for free. As far as I could tell, the stingy mine owners wouldn’t let anything go for free if they could charge us for it.
    â€œLet’s go find out,” Mark said.
    â€œBut—won’t we get in trouble?”
    Mark shook his head. “It’s trash. No one will even notice. It all gets buried and forgotten under the mine tailings in a matter of days.”
    My family was still asleep, so I set off with Mark, up the hill toward the mine.
    The slanting rays of the rising sun softened and brightened the drab houses and dirt lanes of the camp, but they could do nothing to alter the ugliness of the mine. As we approached, the hoist and the gaping shaft stood out as starkly as ever,surrounded by tangles of steel cable and grimy coal cars. I could never shake the sense of dread that came over me near the shaft. The thought of descending into the darkness, with all those tons of earth looming over me, made my insides knot. I stepped closer to Mark, glad for the warmth of his presence.
    â€œOver there,” he said, pointing. An enormous pile of dirt and crushed rock trailed down the slope toward the creek. The pile was streaked gray, brown, and sulfur yellow from loads brought up from different levels of the mine, and the entire mass seemed to be creeping relentlessly down the slope. On the front edge of the pile, trash and debris had been dumped and was being swallowed up by the advance of the dirt and rock.
    We climbed down the slope to inspect the tangled debris. Splintered beams and boards, frayed loops of rusting cable, broken gears, and empty liquor bottles lay scattered on the ground or sticking out of the loose tailings. The whole pile smelled of coal, engine grease, and rot. I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose, but Mark was grinning cheerfully.
    â€œIt may take us some time, but there’s a lot here, if we don’t mind getting our hands dirty. And the more we find, the less we have to buy.”
    â€œThen let’s get started,” I said.
    Searching through the rubbish was hard work, and my hands were soon scratched and bruised, but with every new discovery of something useful, my spirits soared. It was like a treasure hunt, even if our treasure was really just trash. We soon had a pile of wood in a variety of ragtag sizes and shapes, but all were serviceable. After all, the chickens didn’t care if they had a fancy house or not, as long as they had a place to roost.
    â€œWe need a fence, too,” Mark said as we worked. “That will be the most difficult part.”
    â€œI didn’t think of that when I got them,” I admitted. “Is there any way we could make do without a fence?”
    â€œWell, I suppose if you want them visiting your neighbors and roosting wherever they please,” he said. “But if you want them to set in your henhouse, you better keep them there. Besides, there are too many stray dogs in camp to let them wander.”
    â€œHow do you know so much about chickens?” I asked.
    â€œWhen we were in Bohemia we had chickens. Collecting the eggs was one of my chores, so I got to know our biddies pretty well.”
    â€œYou had a cow and chickens in Bohemia? Were you farmers?”
    â€œMore or less,” he said, prying a board loose from the soil and throwing it onto the pile.
    â€œAnd you gave that up to come here? To work in a mine?”
    â€œWe didn’t really give up much. We didn’t own the land or the crops. It was more like they owned us. And