Addie’d seen a few wagons on the streets of Georgetown. Mostly farmers hauling vegetables or small livestock to the markets. But she hadn’t contemplated horses and wagons being the main means of transportation anywhere in Kentucky. Perhaps she should have, given that she’d be riding a horse to make her book deliveries.
She shrugged. “Mrs. Hunt said a person could walk from Lynch to Boone’s Hollow but since I’ll have luggage with me, I need a ride. I’m glad Miss West arranged it for me.”
Daddy turned into the residential area where Preacher and Mrs. Finley lived in a bungalow with their school-age daughters. “Did she arrange boarding for you, too?”
Nervousness wriggled through Addie’s belly. “She said I would share her lodging until I could find a place to stay. I might need to take a room in Lynch.” She hoped to find something in Boone’s Hollow, though. Even a room in someone’s private house would be preferable to making the trip from Lynch each day. And maybe a room in a house would cost less than ten dollars a month.
Daddy pulled up to the preacher’s house and turned off the coupe’s engine. The vehicle sputtered a bit before coughing and falling silent. “Before we go in, let’s pray together.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and held his other hand to Mother.
She placed one hand on Addie’s shoulder and took hold of Daddy’s hand. Their arms formed a circle around Addie. A knot filled her throat. When she’d left for each school year, she’d known she would see them again on breaks or the occasional weekend visits. This leave-taking was so different, with much uncertainty surrounding it.
The longing to be their little girl again, cosseted and protected, rolled through her with such force it brought the sting of tears. But she wasn’t a little girl. She was grown up, and now it was her turn to take care of them. She sniffed hard and placed her hands over their joined hands. “May I pray?”
Surprise registered on Daddy’s face, but he nodded.
Addie closed her eyes. “Dear God, thank You for my mother and daddy. They taught me that You love me, and they taught me to love You and Jesus, too. They taught me that You’re always there for me, no matter where I am.” The reality of their teaching reached deep into Addie’s soul. She nodded, smiling. “Even in Boone’s Hollow. Please be with us while we’re far apart. Keep us safe and well. Provide for our needs, and let us be a blessing to those we encounter. May Your peace, which passes all understanding, keep our hearts and minds on Your beloved Son. Amen.” She opened her eyes.
Tears formed moist tracks down Mother’s cheek, and Daddy’s eyes were watery. He briefly touched his forehead to hers, then straightened. “To be honest, Addie, I wasn’t sure you were ready to go off on your own. In here”—he touched his chest—“you’re still my little girl. But with things being the way they are, we didn’t have a choice.” He sighed, and the scent of peppermint filled the small space. “Your mother, who’s nearly as wise as Solomon, told me I’d never be ready to let you go and that these difficult circumstances could very well be God’s way of seeing His plans for you fulfilled.”
The circumstances Daddy referenced—his losing his job, their losing their house, her having to leave school and take a job far from home—paraded through her mind. Addie searched Mother’s eyes for signs of uncertainty. “Do you really believe God orchestrated all these changes?”
“He could have. But even if He didn’t, He can use them for our betterment. The Bible tells us all things work for good for the believer.” Mother’s calm, sure voice soothed the frayed edges of Addie’s heart. “Yes, it’s hard right now, but should we doubt Him when He’s been so faithful to us in the past?”
She’d never seen her parents flounder in their faithfulness. Not to God, not to each other. And not to her. She wouldn’t disappoint them now. She shook her head.
Mother smiled, and Daddy said, “That’s our girl.” They enfolded her in a hug so tight it stole her breath, but she didn’t mind. She memorized the feeling of being wrapped in their arms, wrapped in their love, so she could carry it away with her and relive it in lonely moments that were sure to plague her before she found her place of belonging in her new town.
Lynch
Emmett
PAW JAMMED A WAD OF chewing tobacco in his lip, tucked the pouch in his back pocket, and rested his elbow on the edge of an empty, black-stained coal car. “Now, before you do any blastin’, you gotta have a dummy ready to stem the hole.”
Emmett nodded, but he wasn’t altogether sure what Paw was talking about. Dummy? Stem the hole? The words joined other nonsensical terms—brow, hogsback, dip—that were muddled in his mind. How did Paw keep everything straight? When the administrator had said there wasn’t time to train him, he’d been a little perturbed. How much time could it take? To his way of thinking, all a fellow needed to do was swing a pickax and shovel out what fell loose. But now he wondered if he had enough years to learn it all. He’d never realized there was such a science to bringing up coal from deep in the earth.
He and Paw had walked down the mountain to Lynch after lunch. Paw said it would be easier for him to teach Emmett on a Sunday, when things were quiet—no workers bustling here and there and no machines running. “A mine’s a noisy place. Hard for a feller to think,” he’d said. For the past two hours, he’d led Emmett around the area that made up Mine Thirty-One, but Emmett had learned more about his father than he had about mining.
The way Paw spoke held Emmett’s attention. Such pride showed in his father’s stance and filled his voice as he named each piece of equipment and explained its purpose. Twice Paw had clapped him on the shoulder and told him how good it would be to work together, father and son, side by side. Paw was proud of his work, sure, but more than that, he was proud to share it with his son.
“Come on over here.” Paw guided Emmett to the opening of the mine. “Lookee there.”
Emmett peered into the dark shaft.
“What do you see?”
Emmett couldn’t see anything except the entrance of a big, dark tunnel. He shrugged.
Paw snorted. He gestured, the movements broad and impatient. “See that openin’? Bigger’n a stack o’ elephants. I had a hand in carvin’ that openin’. I’ve had a hand in bringin’ out to the light o’ day chunks o’ rock that’ve laid under the ground for hunnerds of years. Think of it. What we call coal was grass an’ flowers an’ livin’ critters more’n a thousand years ago. An’ sometimes when you’re followin’ a drift, you can almost hear the breath o’ those critters sighin’ from the past.” He stretched one hand toward the mine and slowly closed his fingers into a fist. “When I’m touchin’ that black rock, I’m touchin’ pieces o’ yesteryear.”
Sweat broke out on Emmett’s back. An odd, almost hollow sound that wasn’t really a sound at all seemed to echo from the tunnel’s depth. Was he hearing it with his ears or with his imagination?
“Under the ground, where it’s all dark an’ cool, sometimes you get an idea of what it feels like to be dead.”
Emmett shot his father a sharp look. Was he trying to scare Emmett now?
Paw stared into the shaft with a faraway look in his eyes. “An’ then you come out, an’ you breathe the clean air an’ feel the sun an’ wind on your face, an’ you know you’re alive. An’ bein’ alive means more to you than it did before.” Paw’s body jerked, as if someone had pinched him, and his expression turned sheepish. “Reckon I sound pretty foolish talkin’ that way.”
Emmett shook his head. “No, Paw. Not foolish at all. I…I like what you said. I feel like I know you better than I did before.”
Paw scuffed his toe against the ground, head low. “Well, now, I ain’t never talked this way to nobody before. Not even your maw.” He aimed a grin at Emmett. “But if you’re gonna be a miner, like me, it’s good for you to understand a miner’s heart. For you to know this ain’t just a job. It’s takin’ what the Lord made an’
puttin’ it to good use. It’s bein’ what the Bible calls a good steward. Do you understand, Son?”
A lump filled Emmett’s throat. He couldn’t talk, so he nodded.
Paw blew out a big breath. He smacked Emmett’s shoulder and set off toward the road. “I reckon that’s enough for today.”
Emmett walked alongside Paw, matching his stride.
“Come tomorrow mornin’, you can ride the work wagon down with me, an’ I’ll have a talk with the boss about bringin’ you on. He knows me good—knows I ain’t no greenhorn. If I tell him I been teachin’ you an’ I’m willin’ to be responsible for you ’til you learn it all, he’ll likely hire you on the spot.” Paw’s saunter became a strut. “Yessir, gonna be good havin’ my boy work with me. Gonna be real good.”
Addie
NO ONE ELSE disembarked in Lynch, so Addie waited alone on a boardwalk that stretched the full length of the red-painted depot. She judged its length at perhaps twenty-four feet, hardly a real boardwalk at all, though the boards were still white, smooth, and new looking. The L&N engine sent up puffs of smoke and shuddered in place, making the boards beneath her feet quiver. Or maybe it was her own nervousness rattling through her. She couldn’t be sure.
She hid a yawn behind her hand. She’d stayed up far too late last night visiting with Mother and Daddy, then slept the distance between Mount Vernon and Lynch, not even awakening at the stops between. If the conductor hadn’t shaken her shoulder, she might have missed her stop entirely. She stared past the train at a tree-covered incline that seemed to stretch all the way to the clouds. Apparently, she’d been deposited at the back of the depot. At least, she hoped she had. Otherwise, the city of Lynch was hiding somewhere in that thick growth of trees and brush.
A short, pimple-faced young man in a rumpled blue uniform scuttled to her and thumped her suitcases near her feet.
She smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
He tipped his little cap. “You’re welcome, miss. You needin’ help gettin’ your things to the Lynch Hotel? I can carry ’em for you.”
“No, thank you. I’m not staying at the hotel.”
“Your folks comin’ for you, then?”
“No.” Although she hoped someone was coming. There didn’t seem to be anyone around other than this depot employee.
He scratched his head. “Then what’m I s’posed to do with you?”
She stifled a chortle. This fellow took his job seriously. Or maybe he was seeking a sizable tip. He’d be disappointed. After paying for her train ticket and an egg salad sandwich in Mount Vernon, she carried less than three dollars in her purse. She needed it to cover her expenses until her first WPA wages arrived.
With a smile, she picked up her suitcases and turned for the corner of the building. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern.”
He made a face that expressed doubt, but he ambled to the door of the building and stepped inside. As he closed the door, the train’s whistle blew. Its wheels squealed against the track, and the locomotive rolled beyond the depot.
The vibration of the boards made Addie feel unsteady, and she hurried from the boardwalk to a concrete sidewalk. She followed it to the opposite side of the depot building, which, as she’d presumed, was the front. She paused for a moment, startled by the size of the town spread out haphazardly along a winding parcel of gently sloping ground. To her delight, a bank building constructed of carved stone matched the grandeur of those in Georgetown and Lexington. She spotted a three-story brick building with signs indicating it housed a restaurant and a movie theater. According to a poster hung on the side of the building, Mutiny on the Bounty, starring Clark Gable and Charles Laughton, was the featured film. She’d seen it last year with Felicity and her “guys,” but she wouldn’t mind watching it again. Felicity had declared that Charles Laughton’s accent was enough to make a girl swoon.
A smile tugged at her lips, images of excursions with the other packhorse librarians and young people from Boone’s Hollow forming in her head. But first she needed to get to Boone’s Hollow. The sun was already sneaking behind the mountaintops, and shadows fell heavy over the valley. She preferred to get settled before full night arrived. Where was the driver Mrs. Hunt had promised would come for her?
A wagon pulled by a white horse with black speckles on its rump rolled toward the depot. A man and a woman sat at opposite ends of the driver’s seat. The woman held on to the seat’s edge with one hand and raised the other in a wave.
Addie set down her suitcases and waved in reply.
The man drew the wagon within a few feet of Addie, set the brake, and squinted down at her from beneath the brim of a floppy, stained leather hat. “You there, young lady—is you Adelaide…Adelaide…” He scowled at the woman. “What did you call her back name?”
“Cowherd.” The woman pushed the word through gritted teeth. She reached her hand to Addie. “Are you Miss Cowherd?”
Addie took hold of the woman’s hand. “Yes, ma’am. Please call me Addie. Are you Miss West?”
“I am. Please excuse our tardy arrival. Mr. Gilliam’s, er, pulling horse had a loose shoe, to which he needed to attend before we set out.”
“It’s all right. The train only left a few minutes ago.”
“As long as you weren’t concerned you’d been forgotten.”
The thought had crossed her mind, but she wouldn’t distress her new boss by saying so. The older woman seemed uptight enough. “No, ma’am, not at all.”
An airy sigh left Miss West’s throat. She released Addie’s hand and turned to the driver. “Please put Miss Cowherd’s belongings in the wagon bed. I believe she and I will sit in the back for the drive to Boone’s Hollow.”
“Dunno why you’d wanna do that. Can put the girl up here betwixt us.” He grinned, and Addie tried not to squirm. He was nearly toothless and had a moist wad of something grimy caught in his lower lip. She’d been taught not to stare at folks, but she found it challenging not to. “This bench sits three fellers. It’ll sit the three of us just fine.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Miss West blew out a dainty breath. “I believe it will be less dusty for us in the back.” She brushed fine bits of grit from the lap and ruffled bodice of her pink floral dress. Her chest rose and fell as if she’d recently run a race. “I don’t wish to be on that mountain road in the dark, Mr. Gilliam. Let’s hurry, shall we?”
The man shrugged and hopped over the edge of the wagon. He stomped around to Addie and grabbed her smaller case’s handle. He tossed it into the back, then with a grunt sent the larger one sailing over the edge. Addie gasped, and he grinned at her. “Stronger’n I look, ain’t I? That was no trouble at all. Want me to help you in?”
Would he give her the same treatment her suitcases had received? She moved to the rear of the wagon. “That’s kind of you, but if you’ll remove the hatch, I should be able to get in on my own.”
“You might snag your stockin’s.”
How would Mother respond to a comment like that? “Um…thank you for your concern. But as I said, I’ll be fine.”
“All righty, then. Here you go.” He lifted the hatch out of the way, and while she clumsily climbed in from the rear under Mr. Gilliam’s unwavering attention, Miss West stepped cautiously over the driver’s backless bench into the bed.
She pointed to Addie’s larger suitcase. “May I use this as a seat, Addie?”
Addie couldn’t expect the older woman to sit on the floor of the bed. She nodded. Miss West sat gingerly on the larger case, and Addie sat on the smaller one. Mother’s fine leather cases would bear scuffs and dents from this day forward, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.
Mr. Gilliam dropped the hatch into place and then heaved himself onto the seat again. He sent a grin over his shoulder. “You ladies ready?”
Miss West clamped her hand over the edge of the wagon�
��s high side and nodded.
The wagon jolted forward, and Addie slid several inches across her suitcase. A little yelp escaped before she could stop it. She shifted to the floor. Resting her elbow on the suitcase, she bent her legs to the side, as ladylike a position as she could manage. As Mr. Gilliam had warned, her stockings caught on the rough wood. She’d be as snagged as if she’d walked through a patch of rosebushes, but she felt more secure on the floor.
The high sides on the bed hid her view of anything except the mountaintop and sky, but she surmised they weren’t traveling on a paved roadway. The wagon bumped and rocked, squeaked and moaned. Addie was tempted to moan, too.
Instead, she forced a smile and aimed it at her new boss. “Thank you for giving me the chance to work with you. Mrs. Hunt spoke highly of you, and my parents held no apprehension about allowing me to come because of her recommendation.”
Miss West’s tense expression relaxed. “That’s kind of you to say, Addie. My cousin Carrie spoke well of you, too. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.” Her thin, graying brows tipped low. “It’s a bit unnerving making a trek to an unknown place, where everyone is a stranger.”
Addie wondered if she was talking about her own feelings or Addie’s. “Yes, but it’s exciting, too. My first foray into true independence.” She laughed lightly.
Miss West remained stoic. “When Carrie told me you’d accepted the position, I asked Brother Darnell, the minister of the Baptist church, to make inquiries about lodging for you. He’s familiar with everyone in the community, so I trusted him to know best. This morning after the service, he told me two people have expressed a willingness to board you. One is a widower whose daughter is also a packhorse librarian”—
Mr. Gilliam chortled loudly enough to be heard over the wagon’s clamor.
—“and the other is an elderly woman who lives by herself.”
Mr. Gilliam jerked his head and gaped at Miss West. “You talkin’ about Nanny Fay?”
The Librarian of Boone's Hollow Page 12
