The Sound of Rain Read online

  © 2017 by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  Ebook edition created 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-1196-2

  Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  Scripture quotations identified NIV are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by Kathleen Lynch/Black Kat Design

  Author is represented by Books & Such Literary Agency.

  For the men who inspired Judd Markley:

  Daniel Loudin—brother, woodsman, mountain man

  Uncle Judd Loudin—hero of my father’s tales

  Uncle Harry Markley—coal miner who lived to tell what it felt like to be buried inside a mountain

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  Author's Note

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  To the roots of the mountains I sank down; the earth beneath barred me in forever.

  Jonah 2:6 NIV

  Chapter

  1

  BETHEL, WEST VIRGINIA

  APRIL 1954

  Judd wanted to take a deep breath more than anything. But the weight on his chest, combined with the dust-laden air, made it impossible. He closed his eyes and opened them again, finding it made no difference. Either he was blind or the cave-in had erased any hint of light. He coughed and spit.

  Darkness pressed against him almost as hard as the silence. There should have been the hum of machinery, the clink of pickaxes against coal, men’s voices. He moved his hands and felt relief at the sensation of ten fingers brushing against rough stone. He couldn’t move much, but at least he knew he was alive.

  Continuing to take stock, he found he couldn’t move anything below his waist. That must be the weight of the rock and maybe some timbers. Surely his legs and feet were still there. And nothing hurt too terrible—that was good. He shifted his head and realized there was a boot pressed against his cheek. It scared him so bad he cussed. Then he felt awful—that might be Harry’s foot. Not Joe’s, though—he’d been working that other, narrower seam. He hoped Harry and Joe had time to start out toward the entrance.

  Judd found he could breathe a little easier—the dust must have settled. He wished he could reach up and wipe the grit from his lips. He spit again and tried to settle his mind to wait. He’d never been afraid of tight spaces, and maybe it was good he couldn’t see to know how bad his situation was. And yet . . . the darkness had become a tangible thing. He could almost feel it brushing across his skin. Fear welled in him, and he gritted his teeth against it. There was nothing he could do, no one he could call out to. He guessed Ma would tell him to pray, but he was a man of action and it wasn’t like God would reach down into the bowels of the earth and pluck him out. He exhaled through pursed lips just to hear the sound of air moving and maybe, just maybe, there were words buried in that breath.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Judd heard a sound. Or thought he did. It might just be his ears wanting to hear something. A few minutes later, he heard a voice for sure and certain and saw a chink of light. His very being quivered, the sudden burst of hope almost more than he could bear. It took at least another hour before the men got to him, their lanterns flashing against the debris and hurting his light-starved eyes.

  “Don’t move, Judd, we’ve gotta get this beam off before we can dig you out.”

  “Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he said.

  Martin Burr grunted as he shifted some more rock. “Reckon you ain’t.”

  Finally, Judd felt the weight on his chest ease. He took a good breath and thought maybe he did hurt some. He saw Martin’s grim face. The older man flinched and told Judd to brace himself. Pain seared his very soul, and Judd didn’t know anything more.

  When he woke, Judd’s first thought was that he was still trapped in the mine. But the astringent smell and the squeak of a nurse’s shoes in the hall let him know he was in a hospital. He glanced to his right and saw a curtain drawn across a window. The room was barely lit—must be nighttime. To his left, he could see the shape of another man in another bed. He hoped it was Joe.

  Judd took that deep breath he’d been wanting back in the mine and moaned. He’d broken some ribs, sure as shootin’. Once the pain eased, he began to inventory his condition. Both hands worked fine. He reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes and found his right shoulder to be stiff but workable. He felt along his torso until he came to the bandages around his rib cage. Next he wiggled his toes—the left foot seemed fine, but his right leg appeared to be suspended some way—immobile. He was afraid to move around much, tender as his ribs were, but at least all his limbs were attached. That was something.

  Footsteps approached, and a nurse stepped inside the room.

  “Mr. Markley. You’re awake.”

  “Yes, ma’am. And I’m powerful thirsty.”

  “I’m not surprised—you’ve been here most of three days now.” She slipped over to the side of the bed and held a cup with a straw to his lips. The water slipped over his tongue like the first drink after a day spent in the hayfield. He guessed maybe he hadn’t died after all.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “With my hands.” Judd grinned and felt his dry lips crack. He licked them. “Guess I feel pretty good for a dead man.”

  The nurse smiled. “You’re actually quite lucky, Mr. Markley. The doctors thought they’d have to take off that leg, but it looks like you’ll get to keep it a little longer.”

  Judd tried to feel lucky, but found it beyond him at the moment. A sound came from the other bed, and he looked over to see Harry leaning over the bed rail.

  “Well if you ain’t a sight for sore eyes. I was afeared we lost you.”
/>   “Not this time around,” Judd said. “You must not be hurt too bad, sitting up there all lively like that.”

  Harry gave the nurse an appreciative look. “These gals would just about make a dead man sit up and take notice.”

  The nurse made a harrumphing sound but didn’t seem displeased. “I’m going to leave you boys to catch up. Breakfast will be around shortly.”

  Harry swung his legs over the side of his bed and squinted at Judd. “You’re lucky to be alive, son. I was farther out than you and just got knocked around a little, but I thought you was a goner for sure.”

  “What about Joe?”

  Harry blinked once. “Aww, they patched him up and sent him home. He’ll be back at it afore the week’s out.”

  “Say, whose foot was pressed up against my face then? If it wasn’t you, then who the heck was it?”

  Harry ducked his head. “Judd. That was your foot. That’s how come your leg’s all wrapped up like that. You’ve got enough steel in there to shoe a couple of horses.”

  Judd reached down and realized the heavy cast came clear up to his waist. “Am I gonna walk again?”

  “Don’t see why not. Seems like they wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble to give you a dead weight to drag around.”

  Judd rolled his head against the pillow, remembering the rough scrape of the boot against his cheek. His boot. He was beginning to feel pain all over—in his rib cage, his hips, his back. Seemed like everything but the hair on his head was starting to hurt.

  “Son, you don’t look so good. I’m gonna get that nurse back in here.”

  Judd thought to accuse his friend of calling the nurse back so he could get another look at her, but he didn’t have the grit to make a joke. He nodded and closed his eyes, grateful that even then, light filtered through his eyelids.

  The nurse must’ve given him something to make him sleep. When Judd woke the second time, the first thing he realized was that he felt about half-starved. ’Course, he also felt like he’d been in a tussle with a freight train and lost, but he decided to focus on hungry. You couldn’t eat if you were dead, and in the dark of the mine he’d thought he might be dead for longer than he liked to remember.

  He pried his eyes open and found Harry sitting beside his bed, staring at him. There was also a tray on a table with a bowl of something that might’ve been hot once.

  “That stuff fit to eat?” he asked.

  Harry swallowed convulsively and pushed the bowl toward him. “I et mine and it didn’t do me no harm. You need help spooning it up?”

  Judd braced himself and pushed up a notch, grimacing as pain shot through him in so many places he couldn’t narrow it down to say what hurt. “If I do, I’ll ask that good-looking nurse.”

  He reached for the spoon and tasted some kind of bean soup. It was barely warm, but he swallowed it down and wished for a piece of corn bread and maybe a glass of cool buttermilk. His throat still felt raw and parched from the coal dust. Harry sat and watched like a hound dog hoping for a crumb.

  “Harry, I appreciate your concern, but you’re crowding me a mite. You want some soup?”

  Harry ducked his head and shifted in his chair. “I’ve got something to tell ya. I been waiting for you to wake up and eat—wanted you to get what rest you could.”

  Judd swallowed and left his spoon, which was getting downright heavy, in the half-empty bowl. “Spit her out, then.”

  “It’s Joe. I lied about him being alright.” Harry fisted his hands on his knees. “Them nurses said you needed time to heal afore I told you, but I don’t hold with lying and it’s been weighing on me.” He lifted his head to meet Judd’s eyes. “Joe didn’t make it. Looks like he died straight out—got hit in the head and probably didn’t know nothing about it.” Harry’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he lowered his eyes again. “I know you was real close to your brother, I couldn’t see keeping it from you.”

  Judd felt like the weight of the mountain was centered on his chest once again. He fought for air as surely as he had in the dark of the mine. Not Joe. Not his baby brother who’d always had dreams enough for both of them. He should have died; he should have found Joe and taken his place. He closed his eyes and focused on the pain in his ribs, his leg, his head—anything but the pain in his heart.

  Chapter

  2

  Even though it was August, Judd could usually find a breeze out on the front porch of his brother’s house. He’d been living here with Abram, his wife, Lydia, and their children since he came back from Korea in 1952 with the bottom half of his right lung shot away. He hardly noticed the old wound anymore and it hadn’t kept him from being hired on at the mine. Harry kept pestering him about when he’d be coming back to work, but Judd had made up his mind. He wasn’t going back.

  Leaning his crutch up against the side of the house, Judd tested his leg as he walked over to the railing. He didn’t suppose it would ever be right again, but he could walk pretty well on his own now. He didn’t need the crutch so much as he wanted folks to think he did. It gave him time to decide what he was going to do next. And he was pretty sure he’d made up his mind. He pulled a clipping out of the Clarksville newspaper from his breast pocket and read the ad over again. He’d found the bit of newsprint tucked inside an old western Joe had been reading. Apparently, there were jobs down in South Carolina for a man who was willing to put his back into it. Judd didn’t know a whole lot about timbering, but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t need to go into a hole in the ground to harvest trees. And if Joe had been thinking about going . . . well, that was reason enough for him to head south.

  He tucked the paper away as Abram stepped out onto the porch and eyed the crutch back against the side of the house. “Getting on any better?”

  “I’m gaining ground.” Judd leaned on the railing and stared out at the pasture. “Been thinking about where I might go from here.”

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” He stroked his beard. “Been thinking—handy as you are with mechanical things, maybe the coal company’d let you keep the equipment running instead of working the seam.”

  Judd kept his eyes on the edge of the field where he knew deer were likely to browse. “Put in my application two months ago. Mr. Clarkson said he knew I could do the job, but since I don’t have a piece of paper that says I’m ‘formally trained’ he can’t put me on. Coal-company regulations.”

  “Clarkson always did take comfort in having rules to go by.”

  “That’s so.” Judd turned to his brother. “And anyhow, Joe’s too close around this place. Thought I might head south and see if I can’t learn a new trade. Might get in with someone who’d let me make use of what I know.”

  Abram settled his bearded bulk into a rocking chair and laced his hands across his belly. “Lydia and the kids would sure be sorry to see you go.” He set the chair in motion. “Might be I’d miss you myself.” He grinned. “Then again, I hear those Southern girls are nice to look at.”

  Judd forced a smile. “Yup. Lydia might be willing to part with me if I fetch a new sister home for her.”

  Abram stroked his beard. “You’re what, twenty-seven now? Reckon it’s time you found a good woman. Guess none of ’em around here’s quite suited you.”

  Judd smiled in spite of himself. There was more than one lady he’d wooed, but he’d never taken romance as seriously as some of those ladies would have liked. “I might have burned a bridge or two by now. Might need to start fresh somewhere else.”

  Slapping his hands on the rocker arms, Abram stood. “Lydia sent me out here to fetch you in to supper. Once your belly’s full you’ll think clearer.”

  Judd got his crutch and followed his brother into the house, where he could hear eight-year-old James and five-year-old Grace chattering with their mother. He breathed in the aroma of fried chicken and biscuits. Joe could just about eat a whole chicken when Lydia did the cooking. Judd loved his family, and he was grateful for a safe place to heal from the war and no
w the mine accident, but he felt hollowed out. There was an emptiness not even his niece’s dancing blue eyes and strawberry curls could fill. He scooped Grace into his arms, grunting at the stress on his leg. He settled her on an upturned crate in the chair next to him and bowed his head to hear his brother’s prayer. But he didn’t close his eyes. The world was plenty dark enough with them wide open.

  The bus ticket to South Carolina took a chunk out of Judd’s meager savings, but he wasn’t worried. Waccamaw Timber Company was hiring, and he felt certain of a job. He’d refused to let his family see him off, hitching a ride to the station and boarding a Greyhound bus with his duffel bag and little else.

  It took a day and a half to travel the four hundred miles between the mountains and the sea. Judd slept little, mostly watching the landscape as it shifted from high peaks and low valleys to rolling hills to a flatness that left him feeling unsettled and wondering if he was doing the right thing. He wished he and Joe could’ve made this trip together.

  “Where you headed?” The man in the seat next to him had boarded the bus just before they crossed the state line into South Carolina.

  “Myrtle Beach.” Judd wasn’t in the mood for conversation.

  “Boy howdy, that’s where I’m headed, too. Been working up near Chadbourne, and now I’m headed down to close out the year at the beach.”

  Judd figured this man might be a help, so he stuck out his hand. “Judd Markley. I’m hoping to find work with the Waccamaw Timber Company—they advertised in the West Virginia paper and I decided to come on south.”

  “Didn’t think you sounded like you were from around here.” The fair-haired man with sun-roughened skin grabbed Judd’s hand, his grip firm. “I’m Hank Chapin and I work for the Heywards—they own Waccamaw Timber. Be glad to introduce you once we get to town. You willing to break a sweat?”

  “Don’t know any other way to get real work done.”

  Hank laughed. “What’d you do back in the mountains?”

  “Coal mining. I was in Korea for a while, but I’ve been mining since I was sixteen.”

  Hank whistled. “Guess you do know about hard work. ’Course, timber’s above ground.” He winked and elbowed Judd, who tried to smile. “Know anything about felling trees?”