The Librarian of Boone's Hollow

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “You’re right, I should be.” Bettina laughed and pulled free. She poked her thumb in Addie’s direction. “But our new book gal here needs some horseback-wearin’ clothes.”

  The woman finger-combed the little boy’s dark hair and aimed a shy smile at Addie. “Howdy. Been hearin’ about the new gal in town. It’s right nice to meet you. I’m Damaris Tharp, an’ this here is my boy Dusty.” Friendliness seemed to exude from the woman.

  Addie eagerly stepped forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Tharp. I’m Addie Cowherd. Did you say your name is Damaris? I’ve never heard it before, but it’s lovely.”

  “Why, that’s real kind o’ you.” She dipped her head in a humble gesture. “My maw took it from the Bible. I’ve always been right fond of it.”

  Tharp…In a town this small, would there be more than one Tharp family? “Ma’am, are you any relation to Emmett Tharp?”

  Surprise registered on the woman’s face. “He’s my oldest boy. You met Emmett?”

  Addie nodded. “In Lexington at the university. We—”

  Bettina pushed between the women. “Guess you heard about Miz West havin’ a breathin’ fit this mornin’ an’ needin’ Doc Faulkner.”

  Mrs. Tharp’s eyes widened. “Oh, my…”

  “Yep. Turns out she’s got some kinda sickness, an’ she ain’t gonna be able to keep livin’ here on the mountain. Said she’ll be gone by Friday, Saturday for sure, ’cause if she stays, she might keel over dead.”

  Miss West hadn’t given the girls permission to share her personal information with others. Addie touched Bettina’s sleeve. “Bettina? I—”

  Bettina wriggled her arm, not even bothering to look Addie’s way. “I was scared at first they’d shut the place down an’ I wouldn’t have a job no more. But she’s callin’ President Roosevelt hisself, she said, about findin’ somebody else to run the lib’ary.”

  Addie tapped Bettina’s arm again. “Bettina, she said she’d talk to—”

  “Me an’ the other riders”—Bettina’s voice rose in volume—“is s’posed to keep doin’ our deliveries like always. An’ I will, just as soon as we get Addie here outfitted with britches an’ boots.” She rolled her eyes. “She can’t get on her horse in the getup she’s wearin’. City gal…Don’t reckon she knows no better.” She turned to Addie and frowned. “Well, you gonna pick out some boots or not? We’re gonna lose the whole day if you don’t hurry up.”

  The little boy hunched his shoulders and giggled, and Addie couldn’t resist winking at him. “Yes, I’ll find some boots.” She and Dusty both reached into the bin at the same time, his impish grin aimed at her.

  Mrs. Tharp pinched her chin, gazing at Bettina. “Bettina, has Miss West made that telephone call you were talkin’ about yet?”

  Bettina shrugged. “I dunno. She was sittin’ at the table, writin’ on some papers when me an’ the others left to go on our routes.”

  The woman took hold of Dusty’s arm and turned him to face her. “Dusty, you keep lookin’ for boots. Remember, they gotta be good an’ loose so they’ll last awhile.”

  The little boy nodded. “For church now an’ school later. I know, Maw.”

  She ruffled his hair. “Good boy. I’ll be right back.”

  The boy crinkled his nose. “Where you goin’?”

  “Over to talk to Miss West.” She smiled at Bettina. “There’s a feller right here in Boone’s Holler who’d be fit as a fiddle for runnin’ that book program.”

  Addie followed the woman’s thoughts. “Are you thinking of Emmett?”

  Mrs. Tharp nodded, a happy little laugh trickling out. “I sure am.”

  Emmett

  “SO…MISS WEST MADE A telephone call to Washington, DC!” Maw’s eyes shone as bright as they had the day Emmett received the scholarship letter from the university in Lexington. She’d started talking the moment after Paw finished blessing their supper, and she still hadn’t taken a bite of the bean-and-hotdog casserole. “I stood right next to her in the telephone office while she told the feller at the other end about you havin’ a college diploma, an’ how you live here in Boone’s Holler, an’ how you’d come in lookin’ for a job.”

  Paw paused with his spoon halfway between his plate and his mouth. “What’s wrong with the job he’s got now?”

  Maw made a face. “Now, Emil, ain’t nothin’ wrong with workin’ in the coal mine. It’s honest work. I’m grateful for how your job there keeps this family fed. But look at him.” She gestured to Emmett’s hands. Strips of fresh gauze, splotched with the healing oil Maw’d rubbed on his wounds when he got home that evening, hid the healing blisters. “Emmett ain’t used to such labor. He’s a…” She tipped her head and seemed to search the ceiling beams, then bounced a satisfied smile at Paw. “Intellectual. Ain’t that what Mr. Halcomb called him? It means—”

  Paw scowled. “I know what it means.”

  Dusty stabbed a slice of hotdog on his plate and poked it in his mouth. “What’s it mean, Paw?”

  “Somebody who uses his head to work.”

  “Oh.” Dusty sat straight up. “I wanna be a coal miner instead of a…a…what Emmett is.”

  Emmett swallowed a bite. “The word is intellectual, Dusty, but I’m not sure that really fits me.”

  Maw lightly smacked his arm. “It does, too, an’ you need to be proud of it.” She turned to Dusty. “Why don’t you wanna be like your big brother?”

  “ ’Cause if I use my head for workin’, I might get blisters on it.”

  Maw and Emmett laughed, and even Paw grinned a little. He took a piece of bread from the plate in the middle of the table and mopped at the tomatoey juice on his plate. “A feller don’t get blisters from too much thinkin’, or your maw would have a whole headful.”

  Maw slumped in her chair and sighed. “Emil, I’m sorry. Maybe I should’ve talked to you first.”

  “Sure should’ve.”

  “But it seemed so perfect, me runnin’ into Bettina in Belcher’s an’ findin’ out about the job at the lib’ary so quick, havin’ Emmett home here an’ needin’ to make use of his degree…” Tears glittered in Maw’s eyes. “Seemed like God was makin’ a way.”

  Emmett contemplated what Maw’d said. His mind trailed through the series of rejections he’d received from business owners in Lexington, Cumberland, Benham, and Lynch. Sure, he’d finally been hired at Mine Thirty-One, but only after Paw spoke up for him. And the job he had now didn’t require much thinking.

  He looked at his bandages and considered his seeping sores and aching muscles. If he worked as director of the library, he wouldn’t come home hurting from head to toe. But then, when these blisters finally healed and his body adjusted to the hard labor of swinging his shovel, he probably wouldn’t hurt like this either.

  At the library, he’d be mostly alone. At the coal mine, he had a whole community of fellow miners who’d welcomed him into their ranks. If he got the job at the library, Maw’d be so proud. But working at the mine had awakened in Paw a pride for his son that Emmett had never seen before. Had never expected to see.

  He glanced at Paw, who’d laid off eating but dabbed the folded piece of bread against his plate, lips set in a stern downward turn. Gaze fixed on his father’s profile, Emmett said, “Maw, did Miss West say the man in Washington wanted to hire me?”

  “No, she said he’d talk it over with his committee an’ call her back.”

  “Did she say when?”

  “By the end o’ the week.”

  Paw’s eyes met Emmett’s. He sat rigid, eyelids narrowed, for several seconds. Then he jerked his focus to his plate and started eating again.

  Emmett gave Maw’s hand a squeeze. “Thanks for looking out for me. Reckon we’ll wait and see what the man in Washington wants.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted.

  Bettina

  WHY’D SHE
GONE and opened her big mouth? Bettina clanked the last clean plate on the shelf and tossed the dish towel over the nail by the window. All through cooking, serving, and cleaning up supper, she’d gone over her talk with Emmett’s maw and thought up a dozen different things she could have said instead.

  She plopped into Maw’s rocking chair and reached for the top item in the mending basket—Pap’s church shirt. He’d ripped a seam loose near the right elbow. Probably happened when he took a swing at her. She dug a needle and thread from the cigar box Maw’d used as a sewing kit and set to work closing the seam so he could wear it to service next Sunday.

  Although she’d rather do most any chore besides stitching, she liked having the house to herself. Peaceful. Pap hadn’t been happy about her coming in so late, but when she explained what’d happened with Miz West an’ her late start getting on her route, he calmed down and ate his cold supper without no more complaints. Then he went out right after eating. He didn’t tell her where he was going, but she knew anyway. His jug in the barn needed refilling.

  She rested her head against the chair’s rolled back and closed her eyes, sighing deep. If Emmett started working at the library, everything would fall apart. Him working at the mine in Lynch, even though it wasn’t a fancy city job like she wanted for him, was perfect. Wouldn’t take him long to get tired of sleeping in his folks’ loft. He’d rent himself one of the company houses in Lynch, and then he’d need somebody to do his cooking and cleaning and such, and he’d for sure ask her to be his somebody. Wasn’t nobody else who’d take care of him better.

  And with him working in Lynch, he’d be far away from Addie Cowherd.

  She snorted. “Addie Cowherd. More like Addie Coward.”

  Dumb girl was scared to get on a horse. Then she was scared to stay on it for the uphill climbs. Whether on or off, she’d kept looking this way and that, thinking snakes or bobcats or bears would get her. Of course, she might not’ve been looking so hard if Bettina hadn’t warned her about mountain critters and how they liked to surprise folks. But Miz West had said to train Addie, and there was plenty of critters in the mountains that wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of a person, so Bettina had to tell her.

  A little snicker found its way from Bettina’s mouth. She wove the needle in and out, in and out, lips twitching. Too bad Emmett hadn’t seen Addie in those overalls and boots. The men’s clothes sure took the fancy out of her. ’Course, she didn’t look so citified and proper flat on her back in the dirt with her foot stuck in a stirrup and her frilly underclothes on display, either. Bettina put her head back and laughed long and loud. My, but that’d been funny. She couldn’t wait to tell Glory and Alba about it. She’d be sure and tell them how she’d saved Addie by keeping Russet from running off with her, too.

  Maybe she should’ve let it be. Addie’d be all the way to Cumberland by now. Wouldn’t it be a fine thing if Addie disappeared? Emmett hadn’t showed no interest in any gal from Boone’s Hollow until Addie came along. Bettina couldn’t rightly blame him for looking. Addie’s pretty clothes, the way she talked, even the way she walked—like the movie starlets did, all straight and proud—made her stick out. But if he had lots of chances to look, then he might start thinking Addie was a better pick than her, and she couldn’t let that happen.

  She made a knot in the thread and bit it off. She folded Pap’s shirt real careful, then carried it to his room and put it on his bureau, where he’d be sure to notice she’d fixed it. Not that he’d thank her. But he wouldn’t pester her about it, and that’d be good enough. Would Emmett thank her if she stitched up a tear in one of his shirts? She reckoned he would.

  She left the room and closed Pap’s door behind her. There was more mending waiting, and she should oughta get to it. She reached her hand to the basket, but she didn’t pick anything up. Pap wasn’t there to scold or call her lazy, so she’d enjoy a few minutes of sitting. Thinking. She’d always been good at painting pictures in her head. She did it in the classroom when the other kids was reading. She did it in her bed at night when she was trying to forget something hurtful Pap’d said to her. Wasn’t many things she was good at, but pretending was one of ’em, so she closed her eyes and let herself slip off. Pretty pictures took shape and flowed like a movie on a screen in her head.

  Emmett asking her to carry his boxes for him, then giving her a thank-you and a sleepy half smile.

  Miz Tharp smiling and pulling Bettina into a hug that felt so good.

  Addie on the ground with her foot caught, then wearing those too-big overalls, then sitting all white faced and nervous in the saddle. Bettina’s whole body shook in silent laughter. She searched for another Addie picture.

  Addie staring, all surprised about Emmett being Bettina’s beau.

  Her eyes popped open. She’d said too much to Miz Tharp, and she’d said too much to Addie. Sure, it’d seemed smart at the time. If Addie thought Emmett was engaged to be wed, she wouldn’t be friendly with him. No decent girl went after another girl’s beau, and even if Addie was from the city, she’d know the rules. But what if Addie told Emmett “Congratulations” or asked him about wedding dates? Bettina’d be caught in a lie.

  Or was it a lie? Emmett would court her. Sure, he would. He was just settling in. Hadn’t he gave her that big hug when he came back from school after his graduation? Hadn’t he walked her to the Ashcrofts’ place after the Sunday sing? Hadn’t he asked her to carry his boxes home and then thanked her real sweet at his door before going inside?

  Still, he might not be happy about her talking about it to somebody before he made it all official-like. Men were funny that way. They liked to be the one in the lead, same as Mule did anytime there was a horse traveling alongside him. ’Course, the bit in Mule’s mouth gave her some control over his leading. Once she had a ring on her finger, she’d have some control over Emmett. Until then, she’d have to keep Addie and Emmett apart.

  Which would be a whole lot easier if he kept working the coal mine.

  Addie

  “DEAREST MOTHER AND DADDY…”

  Addie yawned and then gave herself a good shake, trying to chase away the tiredness that gripped her as tightly as nettles held to the cuffs of her britches. Of all the difficult tasks she’d encountered over the past four days, removing the little hairs from the coarse fabric had proved the least enjoyable. Even holding the pen now stung her fingers, but she had to write this letter. Almost a full week had passed since she’d spent the afternoon and evening with her parents.

  A few feet away, Nanny Fay stirred something on the stove. The concoction smelled horrible, but the woman hummed as she stirred, seemingly unbothered by the pungent aroma. The time Addie had actually spent in the elderly woman’s presence had taught Addie that Nanny Fay let very little upset her.

  Rabbits nibbled down her cabbage starts—“They gotta eat, too.”

  The jar of dried black snakeroot fell from the shelf when she moved another jar, scattering the precious herb all over the floor—“Reckon the Good Lord decided I could use another traipsin’ trip to the upper reaches o’ Black Mountain.”

  People moved to the opposite side of Belcher’s when she and Addie met there to buy flour and sugar after Addie had gotten done at the library—“They ain’t bein’ hateful. They just don’t know no better.”

  The past days of riding—or leading—Russet through narrow mountain passes and over steep rises and shallow streams had taxed Addie’s physical stamina. But Nanny Fay’s comment about people’s lack of knowledge, coupled with Miss West’s fervent declaration about the power of reading to change people, strengthened Addie’s resolve. She would put books into these people’s hands, and they would learn to know better!

  Ignoring the sting in her fingertips, Addie filled two pages with descriptions of her new town and home and humorous or touching anecdotes about the people she’d encountered. She focused on the positive, seeking the blessi
ngs, as her mother had taught her. She shared about how Miss West sent her out on routes with the other girls her whole first week so she could become familiar with the area before setting out alone and about her eagerness to discover the people’s interests and meet them with appropriate reading materials.

  Then she penned a request.

  There are very few books on the shelves of the little library, and the magazines are so tattered they aren’t even fully intact. I had the idea of pasting magazine pages into scrapbooks, and Miss West fully supported the idea, but of course we don’t have blank scrapbooks available here. Mother, your church ladies’ group is always searching for a charitable project. Might they consider sending several scrapbooks for our use? I promise the materials would be very appreciated and used for the benefit of people who desperately need connections to and information from the world outside this tiny glen.

  She bit the inside of her lip, gathering courage. After they’d lost so many belongings, she resisted asking her parents to make yet another sacrifice. But she couldn’t seem to set aside the thought. Didn’t a persistent nudge usually mean God was trying to gain one’s attention? Daddy had told her so years ago, and she’d answered a nudge when deciding to become an author. Both Mother and Daddy would tell her to obey a nudge from God.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she placed the pen nib against the page and continued.

  I appreciate your saving the books from the shelf in my bedroom and all of Daddy’s collection. I love you so much for knowing how important the books are to me. But I wonder if they might serve a better purpose by being shared with the folks in Boone’s Hollow and Tuckett’s Pass? As I mentioned, the selection in our little library is woefully inadequate—not even a hundred books! I won’t fuss if you choose to keep them, but I haven’t been able to set aside the idea that these people need them more than I do, so I decided to ask.

  Miss West said the books we have now arrived in crates on the railroad, so I am sure the same means could be used to transport the scrapbooks and, if you decide to let them go, the books from our house.