Red Helmet Read Online Free Page B

solved.”
    Her sarcasm was lost on Cable. “That’s great,” he said, then made certain she was buckled up and drove the little car out of the airport. She reached into her large handbag and retrieved a scarf to cover her hair.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” he asked. “I was looking forward to seeing your hair flying in the breeze.”
    She leaned over and let the wind blow her hair in his face. “Now do you see why?”
    â€œOh, baby,” he said. “Keep doing that.”
    â€œDon’t be obtuse, Cable,” she said crossly, and bundled the scarf around her hair. She had a headache. Traveling by commercial air nearly always made her sick, one way or the other. Unbelievable. The little airplane she’d flown in on didn’t even have a first class section. Everything was coach, with the seats crammed so close together there was hardly any room to breathe.
    â€œI really do love your hair,” Cable said.
    â€œSo you say.” She kept the scarf in place.
    Charleston was in a river basin nestled in hills, and Song thought the town was pleasant enough. There were no tall buildings; there was no particular architectural style, just concrete and brick, a town that could be anywhere in flyover country, she supposed. They crossed a wide, blue-green river, which Cable said was named the Kanawha.
    â€œThat’s a pretty name,” Song said. “What’s it mean?”
    â€œIt means there were Indians that hunted around here a long time ago,” he answered, “and now there’s not.”
    Cable pointed across the river to a majestic white building with a glittering, golden dome. “Our capitol building,” he said. “It’s modeled after the one in Washington. The dome is covered with gold leaf. It should have been made out of coal. That’s West Virginia’s gold.”
    â€œVery nice,” Song said absently. She needed her cosmetics. She was going to look like a witch if she didn’t have them.
    â€œCharleston’s a pretty town,” Cable went on, “but wait until you see Highcoal. It puts this place to shame.”
    Song searched for something salient to say. “When I told my friends I was going to Highcoal, they all got a good laugh out of it.”
    â€œDid they?” Cable glanced at her. “Why?”
    â€œWell, because it’s a funny name.”
    â€œIt’s not funny at all. High coal means the seam is thick enough that a man can stand up, or nearly so. In other words, a miner’s happy when he’s in high coal.”
    â€œI didn’t know miners were ever happy. I thought they were all miserable. That’s all I’ve ever seen on television or in the movies.”
    Cable’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth turned down. “Coal miners are some of the happiest people in the world. That’s because we’re engaged in productive work.”
    It registered on Song that perhaps she had insulted her husband. “Did I say something wrong?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œCable, tell me the truth. Are you sorry I came?”
    â€œNot at all.”
    Song pondered his short answers, then asked, “Have you been thinking about us?”
    He allowed a short sigh. “Song, the only thing I’ve had a second to think about is that old mine.” He reached across and patted her on the knee. “But everything is going to be
all right. You’re going to love Highcoal.”
    â€œI’m just visiting,” she reminded him.
    â€œWe’ll see,” he said. “More than one woman’s come to visit Highcoal and never left. We coal miners have a pull on pretty women, you know.”
    â€œA pull? That doesn’t sound too inviting.”
    â€œTrust me,” he answered, then pressed his lips together, the way a man does when he doesn’t want to talk anymore.
    Song let it go. Her headache was getting