Page 23 of Our Own Light

Floyd continued to look slightly nauseated.

“Oh, take the compliment and move on,” Oliver said, unsure why he was stubbornly trying to force Floyd to be fine with what he had said, rather than apologizing for it. “I like your eyes. I’m allowed to like things, aren’t I?”

Finally, Floyd sighed and said, “Yeah, you are.”

When Oliver turned to head to the register, he noticed a couple of well-dressed men loitering around the canned food aisle. Briefly, he wondered whether either of them was friends with James, but then he remembered what Roy had told him about Don Chafin’s men—the people who supposedly spied on the townsfolk.

“Hey,” Oliver said in a hushed voice, leaning in closer to Floyd. “Do you think they work for Chafin?”

Floyd’s eyes widened. “How do you know about Chafin?”

“Doesn’t everybody know about him?” Oliver continued to watch the men. “No chance they’re men from the UMWA, right? If so, I’d be interested in talking to them.”

“Shh!”

“What?”

“Don’t talk about the UMWA in here! Where’s your head?”

“What, is it illegal to even talk about the United Mine Wor—”

Floyd’s hand flew to cover Oliver’s mouth.

“Ollie, if you keep this up, I’ll carry you out of here!” Floyd whisper-yelled in a manner that was, admittedly, a little funny.

Even though Oliver wanted to press Floyd on it—he was curious to learn how Floyd felt about the UMWA—he could tell by the intensity behind Floyd’s eyes that he was serious. Oliver held up his hands, one of them still clutching tight to the pair of overalls he had chosen, in mock surrender.

“Go pay for those,” Floyd said, taking his hand away. “I’m finding my pick.”

When Oliver met up with Floyd outside, he took Floyd by the sleeve and pulled him farther away from the store, both of them kicking up dirt as they moved across the footpath and over toward the railroad tracks.

“Alright, now that we’re out of earshot, what’s your opinion on the UMWA?”

“I...” Floyd huffed. “I’m not in the mood to talk about this.”

“Why not?”

“I’m tired from work.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Floyd’s reaction. After a moment, Floyd looked away, and then Oliver noticed how Floyd had started nervously wringing his hands.

“Do you . . . not want to unionize?”

“Change would be hard, Ollie. Let’s leave it at that.”

God, why was Floyd being so tight-lipped? First, he wouldn’t tell Oliver more about his past, and now, he was refusing to have an honest conversation about the benefits of the UMWA? It wasn’t like Oliver would be upset with him for his opinion. Oliver was still new. He was still figuring out how everything worked.

He couldn’t resist pressing further.

“Well, what would be hard? Maybe you should enlighten me.”

Floyd let out an irritated-sounding sigh.

“Did Roy tell you about the tent colonies?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then you know what could happen.”