Wonderland Creek

by Lynn Austin

  “She told me that she’s one hundred years old.”

  “Well, she’s real lucky that you came along when you did to help her out. Especially now that Mack is gone.”

  I couldn’t reply. Surely someone else would take care of her after I went home, wouldn’t they?

  Cora rose to her feet, stretching her shoulders and neck muscles. “If you stop to eat here by the creek again, make sure you look around for snakes before you sit yourself down.” I leaped up as if I’d been bitten by one. Cora nodded and said, “They like to sun themselves on the warm stones.”

  “Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.”

  “And don’t forget to tie your horse up real good or she’ll head home and leave you every time.” The barest hint of a smile flickered on Cora’s lips, the first I had seen. Then she turned away again. She helped me mount Belle and we rode farther up the creek—after I did a lot of nudging and kicking to get the horse going in the right direction, that is.

  “Folks in this next cabin are kin to me,” Cora said as we arrived in another clearing. “Sometimes I stay and visit awhile.”

  This time no one came out to meet us. We dismounted and Cora led the way inside. “Gladys . . . Clint?” she shouted from the front porch. “You got visitors.” The cabin had only one room. A fieldstone fireplace took up one wall, and in the dim light I saw a woman about Cora’s age tending the fire. I couldn’t believe that people still cooked on an open hearth instead of a stove. I smelled bread baking but didn’t know how that was possible without an oven.

  As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw a toothless granny smiling at me as she rocked in front of the fire. She held a smoking corncob pipe clenched between her gums. Across the room a man who looked very much like a bearded version of Cora lay beneath the blankets in an iron-framed bed. Yellowing newspapers covered all of the cabin’s walls, but whether they were for decoration, insulation or reading material, I couldn’t tell. Perhaps all three.

  Cora introduced me. “This here’s the new packhorse lady, Miss Alice. That’s my brother Clint”—she gestured to the man in bed—“his wife, Gladys, and that’s our granny. Have a seat.” She gestured to a table and chairs near the fireplace, and I sat down. Cora gave her grandmother a small pile of Life magazines to read, then pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down to read the newspaper to Clint. When Gladys finished tending the fire, she sat down on the edge of Clint’s bed to listen, too. The newspaper was at least a month old with news items I had heard about before I left home. But it must have been news to Clint and Gladys, who shook their heads and clicked their tongues in dismay as Cora read aloud to them. Granny sat in her rocking chair, puffing smoke and staring at the pages of the magazines as if she was required to memorize them.

  “Does that paper say if they’re gonna get the mine started up again?” Clint asked when Cora paused to turn the page.

  “Nobody’s saying anything about the mine. But Miss Alice says the coal company might be telling the truth when they say the whole country’s poor and out of work. It ain’t just us.”

  “Well, that’s bad news,” Clint drawled. “Can’t you bring us any good news?”

  “I wish I could, but there just ain’t any good news to bring.” She turned to me. “Miss Alice, you just come from the city a week ago, didn’t you? You know of any good news?”

  “Me? . . . No, sorry . . . I never pay much attention to the news.” They stared at me as if to ask, Why not? I could almost hear Gordon saying, “You always have your nose in a book and your head in the clouds.”

  Gladys must have noticed my embarrassment because she changed the subject. “Your husband come home yet, Cora?” she asked.

  “Ain’t heard a word from him.”

  “You still doing okay?”

  “I manage. This here’s a real good job, delivering books. I’m getting me a new route up Potter’s Creek next week, so Miss Alice will be coming up to see you from now on.” Cora paused and gestured to her grandmother. “Our granny can’t read a single word, Miss Alice, but she sure does love looking at the pictures. See how she’s smiling?” It was true. The older woman was grinning so widely that she’d had to take the pipe out of her mouth. I felt uneasy talking about Granny within earshot, but Cora said, “Don’t worry. She’s as deaf as a stone.”

  We stayed for about an hour, then mounted our horses again. “Do your brother and his wife have children?” I asked when we were on our way.

  “A whole peck of them—six or seven at last count. Some are grown, the rest are in school. We’ll head up to the schoolhouse on our next trip.”

  I wondered where the children slept—and where Granny slept for that matter. I’d only seen one bed. “Has your brother been sick long?” I asked, making conversation.

  “I’ll tell you what happened but don’t go spreading it all around. He has a still back in the woods. Makes moonshine. Everybody up in these hills drinks it, makes it, sells it, or runs it. But Clint got into a tangle with the revenuers a few weeks ago and ended up getting shot.”

  “Shot? I didn’t know government agents would shoot at people. They repealed Prohibition more than two years ago, you know.”

  “It was Clint’s own fault. He started shooting first. The revenuers busted up his still, but he’s gonna build another one when he’s feeling better. At least they didn’t throw him in jail again. Couldn’t catch him, I guess.”

  Cora led us back to Wonderland Creek, and we headed downstream toward home. Belle cooperated for once, as eager to return as I was. About an hour later we halted in front of Mack’s cabin again. I tried not to glance over at it.

  “Have you been memorizing all the landmarks that I showed you today?”

  “Yes. I think so.” I planned to write everything down as soon as I got back to town—although I didn’t know why I should bother. I would never be riding this way alone.

  “Today we delivered books to the folks on the west side of Wonderland Creek,” Cora said. “Tomorrow we go back up and deliver to the folks on the east side. The Howard clan lives way back up in the hills. Then there’s Maggie Coots and Miss Opal. And the school’s up in there, too.”

  “Are all of these people as excited about getting books as the people were today?”

  “Oh yes, ma’am. Even the ones who can’t read a word.”

  At last we arrived at the library. Home again. I would have loved to soak my tired bones in a hot bath, but since I hadn’t seen anything resembling a tub in the house, I knew there was little chance of that happening. We unsaddled Belle and walked inside the library just as Faye and Marjorie returned. Everyone chatted as they emptied their bags, and I felt a sense of camaraderie and satisfaction that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. How wonderful to be among people who loved books as much as I did, even if they were poor and illiterate—and a little trigger-happy.

  The next day, Cora took me to the shed so she could teach me how to get Belle saddled up and ready to go. “The girls and I will still help you out, but you never know when you might need to saddle Belle by yourself when we ain’t around.”

  I nodded, unable to imagine a time when I would get on any horse voluntarily, let alone this one. As soon as Belle saw Cora and me, she started throwing a horse tantrum. Cora tried to soothe her. “For goodness’ sakes, Belle. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Isn’t there another horse in town I could ride? One that’s a little better behaved than this one?”

  “I don’t know of any other horses. In fact, Alma’s kin is going to need the mule to do the plowing, and then she’ll be without a mount. I don’t know what’s wrong with Belle. Maybe she misses Mack as much as we all do. Horses can be funny that way.”

  I knew what was wrong with her—she hated me. And the feeling was mutual.

  We got Belle saddled, but as I led her up to the back door where Cora’s horse and the bags of books were waiting, I noticed she was walking funny. “Cora, look . . . I think Belle is limping.” I knew I sounded happy
, not concerned. Cora had just said there were no more horses in town, so if Belle was injured it would be an answer to my prayers.

  “Have you been cleaning her hooves every day?”

  “Cleaning her hooves? No . . . I didn’t know I was supposed to. And besides, I don’t know how.”

  “Let me get the tool out of the shed and I’ll show you.” I watched Cora work, knowing I would never, ever, have the nerve to lift a horse’s hoof in the air and clean it with a scraper. “You should give her a regular brushing, too,” Cora said when she finished. I knew I couldn’t do that, either. Mack would have to take care of the horse when I brought his supplies to him.

  “You’re going to have to show her who’s boss today, Alice,” Cora said as she fastened on the saddlebags. “Make her mind you.”

  “But she’s a lot bigger than I am.”

  “That don’t matter. Sometimes there’s a kid in school who’s bigger than the teacher is, but she still has to make him mind.”

  “Oh . . . well, you see, I never did figure out how to do that, either. I was supposed to be a teacher, but I had the same problem with some of the children that I have with Belle. They wouldn’t do a thing I said.”

  Cora motioned for me to climb onto the bench and gave me a boost up into the saddle. Every ache and pain from yesterday throbbed in protest.

  “What you need is some gumption, Miss Alice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you this quiet and timid back home? Afraid of your own shadow?”

  “I-I never thought I was. But things are so much different back home. I work in a town where we don’t need to ride horses because I can take the streetcar.” I wanted to add that people back home didn’t get shot at, either, unless they were gangsters. And no one back home complicated my life the way Mack and Lillie had.

  “What do you do with yourself back there in Illinois when you ain’t working in a library?”

  I had to think about it. “Well . . . I like to read books. That’s mostly what I do.”

  “All day? That ain’t living.” It was the same thing Gordon had told me. I was starting to think he might have been right. Cora swung up into her own saddle and rode off toward the creek. “Come on, make Belle follow me,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Giddy-up,” I said, nudging Belle with my knees. She didn’t move. “Go! Come on now! Giddy-up!” I jiggled the reins and kicked her until she finally began to move. But she walked toward her shed, not the creek. “No! Bad horse! Not that way! Whoa!” I tried to remember everything Cora had taught me and tightened the slack in the reins to make her stop. I used my legs as I pulled the reins in the right direction. Belle’s head swiveled toward the creek. “That’s it. Go that way. Move!” For the first time she did what I told her to do and we soon caught up to Cora. She gave me a nod and a faint smile.

  “I see you found yourself some gumption.”

  We rode up the creek and into the hills past Mack’s cabin, which looked quiet and deserted. I wondered how he was faring without Lillie’s potions and remedies. I also wondered what he had brought along in his mysterious burlap bag, and what the “work” was that he and Lillie mentioned. Cora had said the two of them were trying to make things better for the people in Acorn, but as far as I could tell, they still had a long way to go. Belle halted when she saw the cabin. She whinnied softly as if calling to Mack. I urged her forward again.

  Our first stop was the Howard farm. It looked prosperous compared to some of the others, with a cow and mule and small log barn to put the animals in at night. I saw a man, a woman, and three children out in the field, busting up the clods of black earth with a plow, pitchforks, and hoes. It looked like backbreaking work. They waved when they saw us, and the smallest of the children, a ragged brown-haired boy, ran over to greet us.

  “Pa says we can’t have a story today, Miss Cora, ’cause there’s too much work to do.”

  “Okay. Maybe next time, Joe-Bob. But tell your folks that this here is Miss Alice. She’ll be bringing your books from now on.”

  “Hi, Miss Alice.” He gave me a shy wave. “We finished reading all the books you brung us the last time, Miss Cora. Want me to go get them?”

  I longed to tell him to please wash his hands first, which were as grubby and black as the soil. But he already had disappeared inside. Cora pulled out the new books she’d brought, and we made the exchange and moved on.

  It took us the rest of the morning to get to our next stop, which was the schoolhouse. The children must have been expecting us, because they rushed out of the one-room building to greet us. The teacher stood in the doorway, smiling. Boys and girls of all ages and sizes peppered Cora with excited comments and questions, but they talked so fast that it sounded like gibberish.

  “This new atlas has been a godsend,” the teacher told us when we went inside the small, stone building. I felt a surge of pride when she held up Elmer Watson’s prized book. “See what they’ve been making?” She gestured to the walls, which the children had decorated with hand-drawn maps of various countries and continents.

  “This here is Miss Alice,” Cora told the children, “and she’s the one who brought that book here all the way from Ill-a-noise.” The children applauded. They applauded! I felt like a storybook heroine.

  “I don’t know how we can ever thank you,” the teacher said.

  “No need,” I said, sniffling. I silently vowed to start another book drive as soon as I got home.

  The schoolhouse looked new, so I asked about it. “The government built it a year or two ago,” Cora said. “It was one of those make-work projects the president is always going on and on about. What do they call it? It’s the same outfit that pays us to deliver books.”

  “You mean the WPA? The Works Progress Administration?”

  “That’s it.”

  “The school should have a lot more students,” the teacher added, “but we’ve been having trouble getting the parents to send us their children. Some folks think there must be a catch to it, and that they’ll have to pay us money. Others don’t see a need for an education since the boys will all work in the mines someday. And some folks need their children to stay home and help out with the farm work.”

  “Gotta get that corn in the ground,” Cora added for my benefit.

  We stayed for a few minutes, and I watched the teacher settle her class down to work. It amazed me that she could accomplish so much with barely any textbooks or materials. I had seen school districts back home toss out texts that were in better shape than the ones she had, and I vowed to talk to our school superintendent about donating our used ones.

  Our last stop for the day was at a cabin and farmyard down the hill, not too far from the school. Most of the cabins I’d seen looked run-down, but this one was different. Spring flowers bloomed in an overflowing garden below the front porch. The yard was tidy and free from the usual piles of trash and rusting metal, the cabin windows clean. The firewood had been neatly stacked outside, and even the henhouse had a coat of white paint. A cow and several goats grazed in a spring-green pasture behind a rail fence.

  The pretty dark-haired woman who came out to greet us looked as neat and well-groomed as her house and yard. Her dress and shoes would have been right in style back home in Blue Island. I guessed her age to be around thirty.

  “I’ve been waiting for you, Cora,” she said. “Do you have time for a visit?” She spoke without a Kentucky accent.

  I looked to Cora for direction and she nodded. “Sure, Maggie. We got time to set a spell.”

  We tied up our horses and followed the woman inside. I was getting much better at climbing on and off my horse and rarely tumbled to the ground anymore when dismounting. I even remembered to use the horse’s left side to get on and off.

  The house was just as light and cheerful on the inside as on the outside. Muslin curtains hung over the windows, colorful rag rugs warmed the floor, and a vase of flowers brightened the table. But the cabin’s most strikin
g features were the shelves and shelves of books. I wanted to peruse them and maybe pick one or two to read, but Cora was introducing me.

  “Maggie, this here is Miss Alice Ripley. She’s come all the way from Ill-a-noise to help us out and is going to be bringing your books from now on.”

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Alice. I’m Maggie Coots.”

  “Please, call me Allie.”

  As we shook hands, I heard a terrible, wracking cough coming from the next room. “That’s my mother-in-law, Opal Coots,” Maggie said, lowering her voice. “She isn’t feeling well today, or I would introduce you. But she’s been waiting all day for her new book. She likes me to read to her in the evening. Would you like some tea, Allie? I’ll pour us some.”

  I started to protest, remembering Cora’s warning, but Maggie insisted. “Please. I would love it if you would stay so we could get to know each other.” Maggie cooked on a cast-iron stove like the one in Lillie’s kitchen, instead of the open hearth, and she deftly moved the kettle to a hot spot to bring it to a boil. A wooden frame in one corner of the room had an unfinished multicolored quilt stretched out on it. The cabin walls were finished on the inside, not covered with newspapers, and decorated with framed pictures. I was dying to know what made Maggie so different from the other people I had met, but didn’t dare ask.

  “I heard you’ve been staying with Miss Lillie,” Maggie said as she set out matching cups and saucers and a blue china teapot. She must have seen my surprise because she smiled and added, “News travels fast around here, especially when it concerns a flatlander. How’s Miss Lillie doing without Mack?”

  “She’s . . . she’s holding up.” I wanted to say that she was the same as always, tough as an old shoe.