Chapter Text
The world will not change if change does not happen from the top!
Your father is wealthy, as a mining owner with some oil stocks, he has money and power. As such, he made sure you wanted for nothing. You are his little girl, his sunshine, a gift your mother left before her death. You love your father, a humble creature unlike most old money children, you only want his love and time when he can spare it.
Outside of business, you are the only thing he cares about. Maybe even possessive given how he controls who you interact with, when you can go out, and now. Now, as you are of age; a beautiful young woman who society believes should be married off, your father has selected a fine young man to court you.
He is a pig! A selfish prick! If there was a ditch nearby, you would push him in it!
“Let him go.” Your voice is loud, foreman-level loud, as your idiot fiancee believes encouraging competition between the miners will boost output . Output being coal mined. “Get back to your posts!” The other miners stared as if in disbelief that this woman was ordering them around.
“Honey, come now,” You glare at the peacock, “Let the boys let out some steam.”
“By beating each other to near-death?! Are you a fool?” You shake your head, “If they can't move, they can't work, if they can't work,” Stabbing the head of your hand fan into that ugly clean suit of your fiancee, “No coal. And I do not have to explain any further what happens when there's no coal.”
Most of the old miners can share many stories about the Mine Owner's daughter. The tomboy who was willing to pick up a pickaxe and mine with workers.
Your father would quickly scold you but cave in when you relentlessly asked him to teach you the business.
Paperwork, counting the money, and many other things.
You know this company like the back of your own hand.
Thus why you are territorial about it.
The man who you will refuse to marry is upstaged most disrespectfully by a woman putting him in his place. He knows how this looks, the societal sexism showing its ugly face as he yells at you about your place.
“Then our arrangement is over.” Breaking the fan he gave you as a gift and rolling up your sleeves. “Help me take him to the infirmary!” Ignoring the spoiled brat and giving your attention to the miner who was beaten. Another miner helps you and one of the other miner tells your former fiancee to leave.
His name is Norton Campbell, he is slightly older than you, he works the mine because his father worked the mine. The debt of the father falls upon the son, an all too common way to get workers.
You met him once while sneaking a visit over to the mining site. The workers travel wherever the coal appears. The conditions are always horrible, most of these workers do not get to see past their forties.
The world will not change if change does not happen from the top!
You heard those words from a politician, a person speaking up for the workers. If only the rich would listen… Father says it is a waste of time, that the workers will only demand more and not work for even half of what they take.
When you look at the resting man on the cot, a scar on his face from all too common accidents in the mine, you see a man who works for less than anything he is given.
You know all this because you have seen and worked on all of the payroll for each and every miner in this company.
“Miss,” An old man, the doctor here, “Your father just arrived.”
You groan as you lean against the old wooden chair, “God above…” He is going to be very cross about what happened between the brat and yourself. Cross but he will agree when you tell him the facts. “Thank you.” Smiling at the doctor. “Here.” Giving him a few coins, “Tell your wife I hope to see her soon.”
You are generous. None of the workers take your money without doing something to earn it, pride maybe? In doing so you have learned a lot. Most of the old workers are a part of your heart. You care about them. When they pass on, you send the families (if they have any) a care package and pay for the funerals.
It is the least you can do…
If only you could change things…
He is tall, with some muscle on him but malnutrition, a dark scar on the left side of his face, and his eyes lack the light of life in them. His name is Norton Campbell, you address him as Mr. Campbell. He is the youngest miner here, his father was a worker here before he became ill. The other miners, a group of four or five, harass Mr. Campbell, especially on paydays.
Competition makes revenue , you glare at papers on your father's desk. That statement works for not allowing monopolies in business! That does not work when miners are willing to kill one another for some scraps!
Suddenly you do not want to eat the soup given to you. Soup to keep you warm on this winter night.
Then an idea pops into your head! Why not give this to the miner— Norton, it would keep him warm!
In your walks among the workers, you noticed Norton often (too often to the point of unhealthy) works overtime. Often he is doing twenty-four-hour shifts with only three hours to sleep before the next shift.
Again, you see the paperwork.
So, a bowl of soup should help! Yes, you know he probably won't take it from you given how you are literally the daughter of the man keeping him in debt, but you have to try!
So tonight, dark and cold like coal, you put on your cloak and grab the tray with soup, bread, and oranges.
You are careful not to let anyone see you leave the cabin and especially careful not to let any of the other miners see you sneak into the mines.
A few lights help guide you towards the sound of iron hitting rock, the sound echoing until you are at the source. There he stands working with only an acetylene mining lamp on his hat to light his path.
“Mr. Campbell?” He stops at the sound of your voice, “I uh,” You do not need the light to know the moment he looks at you the glare in his eyes is like a thousand knives. “Here. For you.” Placing the tray down as if you were leaving an offering to a lion.
He stares at you and then returns to work.
You understand, you truly do. So you leave, going back to the cabin… Here it is warm and fresh air, with clean linen and a bed to sleep in. Tomorrow you will wake up after the miners, you will do no backbreaking work… You resume living your privileged life.
But when you leave the cabin, you see the tray you left for Mr. Campbell empty save for the dishes.