The Librarian of Boone's Hollow

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “That’s possible. It is a lengthy novel.”

  Emmett set his head at a proud angle. “ ‘All the diversity, all the charm, and all the beauty of life are made up of light and shade.’ ”

  Addie laughed. How peculiar to hear the beautiful words recited by someone who appeared to have recently rolled in an ash pile. “You’ve read it?”

  He shrugged, and his body seemed to deflate. “Yes, but don’t ask me anything more about it. Right now I’d have trouble spelling my own name.”

  Bettina yanked on his arm. “Let’s go.”

  He stood firm, staring at Addie. “What are you doing here?”

  She linked her hands and let them fall against her skirt front. “I’m the newest packhorse librarian. I arrived yesterday evening. I wasn’t able to deliver books today since I didn’t yet have a horse, so I stayed here and helped Miss West. But Mr. Gilliam is lending me one of his horses. Tomorrow I’ll go out with one of the other girls and learn my way around here.”

  A short, disbelieving chuckle left his throat. “So…you’re the one who took my job.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Huh?”

  Addie and Bettina spoke at the same time. Emmett glanced at Bettina, then turned a weary smile on Addie that made her heart ache. “I asked Miss West about working for the WPA, taking books to families the way the girls do, but she’d already hired you.”

  Bettina pressed her cheek to Emmett’s bicep, her narrowed gaze spitting fire at Addie. “Aw, I’m sorry, Emmett. It’d be so perfect for you an’ me to get to work side by side every day, seein’ as how we know each other so good.”

  Addie knew when she’d been warned off. She stepped up on the stoop. “It’s very nice to see you again, Emmett. I’d better let Miss West know about that book.” She hurried inside.

  Miss West waited at the table. She tapped the pen on the edge of the inkpot. “Well?”

  “Bettina said she brought back everything the families gave her. She suggested the woman who borrowed Anna Karenina might need more time to finish the novel.”

  Miss West sighed. “That seems a reasonable explanation, but this is the second time she’s neglected to retrieve all the loaned books. The previous book has never found its way back here. When we have so few resources to begin with, a loss is—” She pursed her lips and closed her eyes. When she opened them, remorse glimmered in her expression. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t voice my concerns to you.”

  Sympathy rolled through Addie’s middle. Miss West carried a large burden, and she lived far away from family and friends in a community that, as she’d stated earlier, held no fondness for her. She must be lonely. Same as Nanny Fay. Addie moved close to the table and offered an encouraging smile. “It’s all right. You’re a responsible person, and you care about the people in Boone’s Hollow. It makes sense that you’d worry about books not coming back.”

  The woman patted Addie’s hand. “You’re very kind and understanding. Thank you.” She sighed. “Here it is, close to nine o’clock. The sun has nearly disappeared, and you’ve not yet had your supper. It’s time you depart for the evening.”

  Addie looked outside. Heavy shadows shrouded the entire town. Earlier, with fingers of sunlight sneaking through the trees, the walk to Nanny Fay’s cabin hadn’t bothered her. But could she find it in the dark?

  Miss West stacked the paperwork and set it aside, then rose. “You aren’t yet familiar enough with the area to walk to Nanny Fay’s alone in the dark. I’ll escort you.”

  Addie nearly collapsed in relief. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  The librarian picked up the lamp from the table. “Fetch your suitcases and we’ll go.”

  The trek took longer with Addie carrying her suitcases on the upward-climbing path. Miss West’s breathing seemed labored, so even though an idea rolled in Addie’s mind and she longed to ask her boss’s permission, she held it inside. Besides, she hated to desecrate the beauty of the night with talk.

  Locusts and crickets sang an off-key chorus. Lightning bugs flashed in the darkness of the forest like stars twinkling against a black sky. The scent she’d noticed on her arrival to Boone’s Hollow yesterday was even heavier deep in the trees. Earlier on this trek, she’d discovered its source—wisteria growing wild. The purple blossoms hung like clusters of grapes from bushes and tree branches. Its heady aroma pleased her senses, and she drank in the scent as she followed Miss West and the bobbing lamplight.

  They broke through the brush into the clearing where Nanny Fay’s cabin waited with yellow light glowing behind the windows. The woman sat on her bench in front of a window, a book in her hands and a serene smile on her face.

  She rose and moved to the edge of the porch as Miss West and Addie approached. “There you are. I wondered if you mighta decided to stay elsewhere.”

  Not even a hint of condemnation came through in the old woman’s tone, but Addie still experienced a prick of remorse. “I’m sorry.”

  Miss West stopped beside the porch, holding the lamp in such a way that all three of their faces were illuminated. “It’s all my fault. The day got away from me. I should have sent her much earlier. Tomorrow she’ll be here by suppertime.”

  Nanny Fay chuckled. She hugged the book to her middle and smiled. “Got a shepherd’s pie tucked on the back o’ the stove, keepin’ warm for you. Miss West, you come in an’ have some, too, if you ain’t et.”

  “I haven’t, and I will not refuse a bowl of your shepherd’s pie.” Miss West handed the lamp to Nanny Fay and then grabbed the railing and pulled herself up on the porch.

  Addie managed the single step with suitcases in hand and followed Nanny Fay and Miss West into the cabin.

  Nanny Fay laid the book on a little stand near a rocking chair and gestured to the door of the bedroom she’d indicated would be Addie’s. “You can take them bags to your room after you’ve et. Leave ’em there by the door for now.” She waddled toward the rear of the cabin.

  Addie followed the woman’s directions, then trailed Miss West to a square table covered by an oil cloth. She’d thought the cabin quaint earlier, but somehow the glow of lamplight enhanced its simple beauty. Nanny Fay’s furniture was all obviously handcrafted from rough-hewn lumber, but every chair or bench wore a bright-colored throw or patterned pillow. Woven tapestries and a variety of wreaths made of dried flowers and leaves hung on the log walls.

  Mother and Daddy’s parlor at home had nearly been overtaken by photographs—Mother loved displaying images of family members, especially Addie. But only one photo graced Nanny Fay’s cabin, and it held a place of honor on the thick length of wood serving as a mantel above her rock-lined fireplace. As she slid onto one of the stools at the table, Addie stared at the grainy image portraying a young girl with long dark braids and a winsome expression. Was the girl Nanny Fay’s daughter? If so, where was she now?

  Nanny Fay turned from the stove with two crockery bowls. She placed the bowls in front of Addie and Miss West, then pulled spoons from her apron pockets. “There you are. Now, I ain’t got milk to offer, but I got water boilin’ so I can steep you some tea.”

  Miss West’s eyes lit. “Birch tea?”

  The old woman’s face pursed into a sympathetic pout. “Your bones achin’ again?” She reached up to a shelf lined with small glass jars, all filled with what looked like ground dried leaves, and lifted one down. “I was hopin’ with warm weather here, them aches’d ease for you. But a cup o’ birch tea’ll take the edge off your hurtin’.” She twisted the lid on the jar, turning to Addie. “Mebbe strawberry- or raspberry-leaf tea for you? ’Less you got achy bones, too.”

  Addie shook her head. “My bones aren’t achy.” In her mind’s eye, an image of Emmett’s bandaged hands intruded. She tipped her head. “But would birch tea ease the pain of open wounds?”

  Nanny Fay frowned. “You got open wounds?�
�

  “No, ma’am.” Addie told her about Emmett’s blisters and the blood-soaked bandages. “I’m sure he’s hurting, and he’ll have to shovel coal again tomorrow.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do nothin’ about that.”

  “Oh.” Addie fiddled with her spoon, head low. “It’s a shame there isn’t something that could help.”

  “Oh, there is somethin’ that could help. Lavender oil to soothe an’ ground yarrow root tea to speed the healin’.”

  Addie sat up. “Wonderful! He’ll be so relieved.” She could hardly wait to tell him about Nanny Fay’s cures.

  Miss West sighed, but not one of her usual catching-her-breath sighs. This one seemed laden with woe. “Addie, Nanny Fay could help Emmett’s wounds. But she won’t.”

  The woman who’d so graciously offered a room in her house for twenty-five cents a week to a total stranger wouldn’t help someone from her very own community? “But why?”

  “Because Emmett’s father wouldn’t allow it.”

  Bettina

  BETTINA SLEPT IN THE BARN Monday night, even though she moved all her things back into her room after supper. Pap was madder’n a wet hen about losing the boarding money from the new book gal, and she felt safer with some distance between them.

  Come morning, he was still grumbling and blaming her for scaring off Addie, but she kept quiet and fixed him his favorite breakfast. So she didn’t get swung at. No new bruises to worry about. A few more days, and the old ones would be faded enough she could wear a short-sleeved blouse. It was June already. People would start thinking she was wrong in the head if she kept wearing winter shirts. She might faint dead away from sweating, too. The sun wasn’t even full up, but already the air was heavy and hot.

  Pap left for the wagon, and she enjoyed a peaceful hour alone in the house before she saddled Mule, grabbed his reins, and took the short path across the creek and between the Ashcroft and Landrum cabins to the main street. Across the way, at the other end of the street, the new book gal came out of the trees behind the post office. All at once, Bettina’s stomach went tight and trembly. She heard Emmett’s voice in her head. “Addie Cowherd?”

  He’d sounded surprised and happy at the same time. Tired and sore as he’d been, him finding that much pleasure in seeing someone sent up all kinds of warnings in Bettina’s mind. She tugged Mule behind a stand of trees and peeked out at Addie Cowherd. At her dress—a dress again! And shoes. Flat ones today, kind of like ballet slippers. She walked with her head high and shoulders straight, like she knowed she was somebody special. The girl was smart, Bettina’d already figured that, but her knowing the lines Emmett said from the Anna Carryin’-nina book rubbed it in. Bettina needed to get rid of this girl.

  Addie disappeared inside the livery, and Bettina pulled Mule from their hiding spot. “C’mon, let’s go.” She hurried the animal past the livery and Belcher’s. She’d almost reached the library when somebody called her name. She looked back. Glory was coming, leading her horse and scowling like she’d ate a rotten egg. Bettina stopped and waited for her to catch up.

  Glory ambled up alongside Bettina. “Saw you pass my window. How come you didn’t wait an’ walk with me?”

  “Sorry. Guess I wasn’t thinkin’.”

  Addie came out of the livery. She led one of Gilliam’s horses, a filly named Russet for its shiny red-brown coat. Bettina’d always admired that horse. She’d asked Pap about renting her for her routes, but Pap said Mule was good enough. Now Addie’d be riding her. That tight feeling grabbed hold of her gut again.

  Glory pointed. “Lookee there. Guess Addie’s found herself a horse, so she’ll be takin’ books now.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s good for us.” Glory ran her fingers through Posey’s white mane. “Don’t see how she’s gonna sit in the saddle, though, with a dress on. I read a book one time…It was set in England, but I can’t recall the title. When the ladies went ridin’, they sat in somethin’ called a sidesaddle so they didn’t have to sit astride.” She giggled. “I don’t reckon Gilliam’s got anything so fancy in his livery.”

  “Reckon not.” Just a plain old everyday saddle was cinched on Russet’s back. If Addie tried to sit sidesaddle on it, she’d probably slide right off. The thought put the first smile of the day on Bettina’s face. She flopped Mule’s reins over a bush and grabbed Glory’s arm. “Let’s get inside, find out who’s gonna take the new book gal around to meet folks today.”

  Glory twisted Posey’s reins around a low-hanging branch and trotted after Bettina to the lib’ary’s open doorway. The girls stepped inside, and Glory let out a squeal. Bettina slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from doing the same.

  Miz West was lying flat on the floor, gripping her dress bodice with both hands and gasping like a fish on a creek bank.

  Addie

  ADDIE STOPPED IN the middle of the street and cocked her head. Had someone screamed? The horse’s nostrils flared, and it bounced its powerful head up and down. “You heard it, too, didn’t you?”

  Glory burst out of the library, waving her hands in the air. “Help! Help! Somebody help! Miss West is dyin’!” She took off up the street.

  Addie let go of the horse’s reins and ran to the library. She darted inside. Miss West lay on the floor. Bettina bent over her, holding the woman’s hand.

  Addie hurried to Miss West’s other side and crouched down. “Miss West, what is it?”

  The woman’s wide eyes met Addie’s. “Cuh-can’t…b-b-breathe…” Her chest rose and fell in quick little bursts.

  Bettina patted Miss West’s hand, the pats as fast and frantic as Miss West’s puffs of breath. “What’s wrong with her? She was right as rain yesterday.”

  “I’m not sure. She was fine last night at Nanny Fay’s, too.”

  Bettina gaped at Addie. “She went to Nanny Fay’s?”

  Addie scowled at the girl. Bettina’s freckles stood out like pennies tossed on a snowbank. She seemed as frightened as if she’d seen a ghost, but for such a ridiculous reason. “Yes. She had supper there last night.”

  “She ate Nanny Fay’s food?” Bettina let go of Miss West’s hand and scuttled backward like a crab. “Did she drink somethin’, too?”

  “Some tea. For her aching joints.”

  Bettina clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Nanny Fay poisoned her.”

  Addie huffed. “For heaven’s sake, if she’d been poisoned, she wouldn’t be breathing at all.” She slipped her hand under Miss West’s shoulders and tried to lift her. The woman was heavier than she looked. Addie needed help. “Bettina, come over here and help me sit her up.”

  Bettina didn’t move.

  “Bettina, she can’t breathe well lying flat like this! Help me!”

  Bettina shifted to her knees but stayed a few feet away, her fear-filled gaze locked on Miss West’s face. Addie started to holler at her again, but a tall gray-haired man rushed into the library and pushed Bettina aside.

  He dropped a black bag on the floor and knelt beside it, barely glancing at Addie. “Get some pillows.”

  Addie scrambled to her feet, tossed the blanket curtain aside, and grabbed the feather pillow from Miss West’s cot. She came back out. Alba had arrived, and she huddled in the doorway with Glory and Bettina. The girls all gaped at Miss West, reminding Addie of a trio of owls with their round eyes. The man wore a stethoscope and held the little bell-shaped listening device against Miss West’s chest, his bushy brows scrunched together like a caterpillar crawling across his forehead. Addie hugged the pillow and waited for instruction.

  He glanced at the pillow. “Only one?”

  “That’s all she has.”

  “Fold it in half an’ put it underneath her when I pick her up.” He grabbed her in a hug and lifted.

  Addie did as he’d said, her hands trembling. He laid her on the pillow,
then sat up, staring hard at her face. Miss West’s chest wasn’t heaving so fast anymore, but the doctor’s grim expression did little to calm Addie’s racing pulse. She stroked Miss West’s coarse gray hair, praying wordlessly.

  Bettina crept close, wringing her hands. “Doc Faulkner, is she dyin’?”

  “She’s havin’ an asthmatic attack.”

  “What’s that?” Glory’s voice quavered.

  “A spasm of the bronchial tubes.”

  Bettina peeked over the doctor’s shoulder. “Did Nanny Fay do it to her?”

  The doctor sat back on his heels. He sent Bettina a fierce look. “What?”

  “She was at Nanny Fay’s last night. Had supper there an’ drank a potion.”

  Addie gasped. “It wasn’t a potion! She drank a cup of birch tea. She asked for it because she said it helped her joints not ache.”

  The doctor shooed Bettina with a wave of his hand, and she scuttled back to Glory and Alba. Then he put his hand on Miss West’s shoulder. “Miss West, are you rested enough to talk?”

  She nodded.

  “All right. I need to know…have you had an attack like this before?”

  “Yes.” She licked her lips and closed her eyes. “Have had them…off and on…since I was a child. But lately…lately…”

  “They been worse?”

  Another nod.

  The doctor stood and leaned over, hands on his knees. “All right. I’m gonna get you up on your feet. We’ll put you in a chair there at the table, an’ then we’ll have us a talk.” He straightened. “Bettina, pull out one o’ those chairs.”

  Bettina screeched the chair across the floor and stood behind it, hands on its high back.

  “Glory an’ Alba?”

  The two girls jolted to attention. “Yes, sir?” they chorused.

  “Go to Belcher’s. He’s not open yet, but bang on the door until he answers. Tell him I need a copper bowl—at least two-quart size—an’ a good thick cotton towel. The biggest one he’s got.”