HUNTINGTON, Utah - There are no signs on the street here offering wishes of hope. No flowers on the sidewalks, none on the doorsteps.

Indeed, nothing on Huntington Street offers a hint that about 10 miles west on SR 31 rescue teams are working round-the-clock to free six men trapped inside a coal mine.

It's the look on their faces that gives it away.

It's their somber expressions and the look in their eyes as they politely shake their heads, declining to answer any questions about what they feel or if they might know any of the six who earn their salaries working underground.

But make no mistake, in this tiny community of 1,900 the mine collapse is the only topic of conversation, said a clerk at the Castle Valley Co-op hardware store who asked that her name not be used.

"I think everybody's wishing and hoping for their rescue," said Ronald Kennedy, a wastewater worker from nearby Cleveland, who was shopping at the co-op. "And everybody's feeling pretty shook up about the whole deal."

None more than the families of the six men whom officials think can't be reached inside the mountain for another three days.

On Tuesday, those families were sequestered inside Canyon View Junior High, away from the cameras and reporters and about six miles from the entrance to the mine.

Police blocked access to the school to anyone other than families, mining company workers, rescues teams and city officials who were coordinating meals.

Down the road in the kitchen of her Main Street house, LaRena Collard was baking - offering her own brand of comfort to the families that she said she doesn't know.

By noon, the 71-year-old woman was covered in flour and putting the finishing touches on cream cheese icing for five chocolate sheet cakes she planned to deliver to the school.

"It's just something they can eat. They're down there and they're nervous," she said.

Years ago when the Wilberg mine fire killed 27, Collard said she baked cakes and bread 10 loaves at a time.

"So I figured it's what they're going to need," said Collard, a former custodian at the junior high school. "A little sweet always helps."

Collard and her husband of 52 years, Clifford, said they'd spent the past day and a half praying for the families.

"You just ask the Lord to bless the families and give them the strength to endure through it all," she said.

The Collards are far from alone in their prayers.

Like many industries, mining is a family business where sons follow fathers down into the mountain and no matter where you mine you feel connected to others who do the same.

"You're part of a brotherhood," said Larry Johnson, an engineer with 20 years of mining experience. "Even when they had problems at Sago, we watched and we paid attention. You want to know what's happening."

Here in the heart of Utah's mining country everybody knows somebody "that's underground," Johnson said.

So the news of the mine collapse hit personally and hard.

"You know these guys," he said. "And even if you don't know them personally, you understand them. We were miners once too. We still are in our blood."