Because her task was dangerous, Briar couldn’t just set the spindle break on the chosen spindle to turn it off and make the switch. She had to shut down the entire frame or risk injuring her hands. This meant she had to work fast before the overseer left his office and noticed her stalled frame. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the lever and set to work.
She drew off the bobbin and set it aside. Then, using the wrench, she attacked the bolster case…or was it the lock…or the bearing? Who knew? Henry had tried to talk to her about the parts of the frame so she could keep it running better, but at the time all she cared about was him getting her frame up and running again. Sweet Henry. She’d only gotten that one letter from him. Surely he would have had time to write another by now. Let her know he was okay and if he was able to do anything about the letter to her aunt. She looked at that place on the frame where she’d been getting the little tokens, but it was empty.
Briar wiped the sweat off her hands to get a better grip on the wrench. Already, the room was unbearably hot and muggy. She leaned into the frame, using all her strength. If she could only loosen this bit, the shaft should slip out. Like that. She grinned. Ha! She did it. But when she pulled the bent spindle out of the frame, she realized it wasn’t simply a shaft. It had its own version of the whorl molded to it. But the whorl on the wooden spindle was way too big. Now what?
She glanced up to see where everyone was. No sign of the overseer, which meant he was likely at the far side of the room. Maribelle was on the first frame, working her way closer.
Now what could she use to make a smaller whorl? There was no way she’d whittle down the rose-carved one it came with. It was too beautiful to destroy like that.
Quickly, Briar took the bundle out of her pocket. But before she could unwrap it, the bell rang, and she shoved it back out of sight. The noise in the room fell silent as everyone shut down their frames and the overseer emerged from the office to turn off the power. He caught Briar’s eye, nodded once, and left the building.
Briar cocked her head, wondering about the change in the overseer. Perhaps he had recommended she be sent to Burlington so she was no longer his responsibility?
“Aren’t you coming?” asked Annie.
Briar shook her head. “In a minute. I’m having some trouble with my frame, as usual.” She stood in front of it, hands behind her back and blocking Annie’s view.
Annie frowned in sympathy. “That frame never has worked right. Don’t be too long or you’ll miss out.”
Briar waved and then turned back to analyze the metal spindle to see if she could take the whorl off.
Maribelle stood at her elbow. “Can I help you with something, miss?”
Briar nearly jumped out of her skin. “Go have your dinner. I’ll adjust this spindle and be off myself.”
Maribelle nodded, her eyes darting to the metal spindle in Briar’s hand before skipping away.
Panic welled up inside. What was she going to do? She didn’t want to give up so easily. She kept her eyes on the operatives headed out to dinner while she felt the wooden spindle through her apron until the whorl separated from the shaft and dropped to the bottom of her pocket.
Before doing anything else, she would measure the spindle to see if it even fit. Keeping the wooden spindle hidden in the handkerchief, she lowered the shaft into the gap-toothed sneer of the frame. Perfect match. So if she could figure out a way to make a smaller whorl for the spindle, it just might work.
She pulled the wooden spindle away, but all that came loose was handkerchief and silk cloth. The spindle had caught in the frame.
Briar glanced over her shoulder. No one but the shadowy machines watching her. She reached back in with the cloth, trying to keep the spindle hidden.
She wiggled the shaft, but it held fast.
She bent down to see what the spindle had caught on. Nothing. She peered closer. The wood had grown a new whorl in the exact shape and size it needed. She gasped and pulled her hand away. Then she took a step back. What was this thing the peddler had given her?
Fairy wood.
Impossible. Fairy tales were stories her mother made up to help them live through the hunger. They were tales. Not real.
With trembling fingers, Briar tested the strength of the bond again. It was even more solid than before. Hardly daring to breathe, she replaced the bobbin then stuffed the royal blue cloth back in her pocket. She hid the metal spindle in a little hollow at the base of the frame, hoping that it wouldn’t roll out with the vibrations when the machine started up again. She didn’t want to take it back to the boardinghouse in case she needed it again or in case someone saw it in her pocket and asked questions.