by Jane Shoup
Home. Rockbridge County. She’d never told Sonny about Rockbridge County. Early on, she’d started to. She told him of being born and raised in Lynchburg and that her parents had both died. And that was when the first of the moments, the warning moments, had occurred. “So, you’ve got nobody,” he’d said, and there was something about the way he said it. A strange glint in his eyes.
So the truth of her existence had stayed secret. She’d chosen not to share that, at age eleven, she’d gone to live with her father’s first cousin, Ben Martin, and his family. It was one of the few things she’d done right.
Now, if she could keep going, if she could just get back home to Green Valley, ironically the very place she’d wanted so desperately to escape. She longed to see Ben again, although she dreaded explanations. From the moment he’d shown up in Lynchburg to collect her all those years ago, he’d been both ally and friend. Without doubt, he was the only one of the Martins who could have ever been called either of those things. What would she tell him? The truth would hurt him and humiliate her. She leaned her head back against the seat and wondered if fabricating a story wouldn’t be easier for both of them to live with.
As her fatigue and the rocking of the train lulled her toward sleep, she isolated sounds, the rumble of the engine, the clacking of the wheels on the tracks, the murmuring of voices of the other passengers. She jerked awake at the sound of the train whistle, and discovered it was dark outside. It was disorienting enough to set her heart to hammering. The train was slowing to a stop.
She sat up straighter, wondering if Green Valley had really been called or if she had dreamt it. She started to rise and was thrown off balance as the train braked to a stop. And there it was—the Green Valley sign. She hadn’t seen it in almost two years, not since departing for Spring Creek Normal and Collegiate Institute, ostensibly to pursue her education but really, to get out of Rockbridge County. Never, ever could she have imagined then how wonderful that sign could look. Her vision blurred with tears and her heart soared at the sight of it.
Home. She was home.
Her body ached as she stepped down from the train, but was filled with a buoyant joy. She’d made it. She’d really, truly made it. She walked several yards and then stopped. It was less than an hour’s ride to the house, but she didn’t have a horse and, moreover, she didn’t want to be seen this way. Dirty, exhausted, dull with fatigue. Explanations would be hard enough without being seen in this sorry state. She thought of the boarding house a block away and started toward it. With sustenance, a good night’s rest and a bath, she’d make a much better impression tomorrow.
The boarding house was just as she remembered it, white with pine-green trim and a porch filled with rocking chairs. She walked up the steps and raised her hand to knock on the door, but an auburn-haired woman inside noticed her and waved her in.
“Do you have a room available?” Em asked as she stepped inside.
The young woman blinked in surprise. “Emeline Wright,” she exclaimed. “Well, as I live and breathe.”
Recognition dawned with profound embarrassment. “Fiona. I’m sorry. I’m so tired, I didn’t recognize you for a minute.”
“We got plenty of room. Come on in.”
Em pinned her arms to her sides in hopes it would help contain her odor.
“So, where you been?” Fiona inquired as she opened the registry. “I haven’t seen you in, what? Two or three years, I guess.”
Em nodded and gave a light shrug. “I went away to college,” she replied hesitantly.
Fiona looked up. “Sure, but you been there all this time?”
“All of a sudden, it does seem like a long time,” Em hedged.
“You want a meal?”
Em’s stomach growled again and she pressed a hand to it. “Yes, please. And a bath.”
“Then that’ll be three dollars.” As Em extracted the money from the purse and passed it over, Fiona couldn’t help her curiosity. “Not that we’re not glad to have you and all, but, uh, why aren’t you going home?”
“I . . . I am. It’s just—”
“Nope, nope, never mind. It’s none of my business. Tomorrow is soon enough, right?”
Em exhaled with relief and nodded.
“It’s this way,” Fiona said, stepping out from behind the desk. “So, can you believe this heat?” she asked as she walked. “Although I guess we all say that every year.”
“It’s very hot,” Em said agreeably.
“Did you learn a lot at college?”
“I did,” Em replied reluctantly.
“I think the only other girl from here to go to college was Mary Beth Hornby. ’Member her? She went to a teacher’s college, but then she married Oscar Wells, so who knows if she’s going to teach or not. Right now, the teacher is a man, name of Mr. Watson. He’s a pretty nice fella, but he does have kind of shifty eyes. ’Course, maybe they have to be, watchin’ kids all day. That’s what Doll says. Doll’s my aunt. I don’t know if you ever met her or not. You want me to bring your supper to your room?”
The words filtered through the haze of weariness fogging Em’s mind. “Yes, please.”
Fiona opened the door to a room and walked in to light a lamp. “This alright?”
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Fiona started out again. “I’ll bring your supper straight back and we’ll get water heating for your bath.”
Fiona walked to the kitchen plagued by the niggling feeling she had amends to make. As a girl, Emeline Wright had been snubbed, straight up and right away. It was because of the Lindley thing, of course, but, truth be told, also because she was so pretty. Had anyone ever given her a chance to explain? In fact, had anyone ever given her half a chance?
Jimmy, Em’s own cousin, had been behind getting her ostracized. What was that chant she’d been teased with in school? ‘Emmy, Emmy W, thinks that she’s too good for you.’ It had gone on and gotten real mean, something about the Lindleys, but Fiona couldn’t recall it now. Or was it that she didn’t want to? She had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that Em was owed a big ole apology from her and everyone else. Only everyone else wasn’t there.
“Whatcha frowning about?” Doll asked from across the kitchen where she was putting up food. Doll Summers, Fiona’s aunt, stood 5’2”, a plump woman with a round, but pleasing face.
“Nothin’. Just thinking.”
“You should think something happier,” Doll suggested. “A’course that’s just my opinion, which doesn’t count for much.”
Fiona put slices of ham on a plate and added a generous helping of shredded cabbage and apples, a specialty of the house, as well as a thick slice of sourdough bread. When she returned to Em’s room with the tray, she got another surprise when Em asked if she could either borrow or buy one of her dresses.
“I left everything behind and I need to burn this,” Em said. “I have five dollars,” she offered.
Fiona made a face, and not just because accepting five dollars for one of her dresses smacked of being morally wrong. A person could get a nice, new dress for five dollars. “I’ll find you one to borrow, although I don’t know how it’ll look. You’re about half my size.” But even as she said it, Em got such a relieved smile on her face that Fiona couldn’t help but return it.
A half mile away, at The Corner Saloon, aptly named since it sat on the corner of Main and Sixth, Gregory Howerton and two of his men took seats at the table unofficially reserved for him. The saloon was a large, two-story place with wide-plank floors and a hand-carved mahogany bar that looked too sophisticated for its surroundings. There was a second-floor balcony where scantily clad whores leaned upon the railing and surveyed the pickings below.
Howerton was a striking-looking man in his mid-thirties with hair that was prematurely graying at the temples. Behind his eyes lurked shrewd intelligence. He moved, spoke and looked like a man fully aware of his power.
“Here you go, Mr. Howerton,” Alice said as she set a glass of prem
ium whiskey in front of him.
Howerton picked up the glass. “Bring another round,” he said. “In fact, bring the bottle.”
“Hard day?” she asked sweetly.
“Just get the bottle,” he returned coldly. Her smile vanished and she hurried off, which worked for Howerton since she reeked of sex, body odor and cheap toilet water. It was a noxious combination, or maybe it was the heat getting to him. Plus, the damn place was noisy. He looked around the smoky room, which was packed with his employees. “I should open a goddamn saloon. They drink every dime they make.”
“That’s a good idea, Mr. Howerton,” James Beard spoke up.
“Shut up,” Howerton returned. He downed his glass and then glanced over at Quinton Hayes, an employee of ten years. “What do you think, Quin? Is it a good idea?”
“Whatever you think, boss.”
Howerton looked from Quin to James, his newest hire, who was way too nervous and talkative to last long unless he learned to shut it. “See that? That’s when and how I want your opinion stated. When I ask and whatever I say.”
James gave a terse nod. “Got it.”
Alice bustled back to the table with the bottle. “Here you go,” she said as she leaned in to refill his glass.
“Anyone not been screwed yet tonight?” Howerton asked.
Alice looked around at all the girls in attendance. “Not this time of night,” she said apologetically. “Sorry.”
“Well, go wash the smell off you. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Across the room, Tommy Medlin was nursing the last of his drink as he watched the poker game at the next table. His brother Mitchell was playing, as usual. And losing, as usual. “Need anything, pretty boy?” Josie asked, leaning down so Tommy could get a good look at her almost totally exposed breasts. Even one of her dark nipples was partially visible.
“No,” he replied, barely glancing at her. “Thank you.”
“Want some company tonight?”
“No.”
“Full house,” Mitchell sang out, slamming his cards on the table. “Read ’em and weep!” He leaned back in his chair and gave a loud whoop.
“Not so fast, Medlin,” Clyde Johnson retorted. “Looky here.”
There was a moment of silence as Mitchell looked at Johnson’s hand. “Well, son of a bitch,” he exploded. “Who gets four aces? It sure as hell ain’t never me!”
Josie rolled her eyes at Tommy as if the two of them were sharing a private joke. “You sure?” she whined softly, pouting for good measure. “I can be real good company.”
“No, thanks,” Tommy muttered. He’d spent enough money tonight and he needed to get out of here before any more of his pay was wasted.
Josie shrugged, but she sashayed away slowly, giving Tommy ample opportunity to change his mind. Instead, he reached for his hat, got to his feet and started to the door without drawing attention to himself. This was just about the time Mitchell was going to start pressuring him for a loan. Only with Mitchell, a loan wasn’t really a loan. It wasn’t ever repaid. Either he claimed not to remember having borrowed money in the first place or he disputed the amount.
Tommy had always been told he was slow, but he’d learned when to clear out of the saloon, and he’d learned to put most of his money away for safekeeping. His ma had taught him that. She’d tried with all her sons, but the others hadn’t taken advice too well. It didn’t much matter because at least half the Medlin boys were dead now. Pauly and Ted had been hanged for trying to rob a bank, and Franklin had been shot by his wife, Celia, when he tried to beat her once too often.
Celia had gotten away with it, too. She’d clunked him on his head with a cast iron skillet, and then shot him at point blank range, and then tore out of town without taking one blame thing, including a look backwards. The rest of his family had cursed Celia, especially his ma and Mitchell, but Tommy was glad she’d gotten away. Nobody liked being knocked around.
Tommy had a brother he hadn’t seen in more than ten years and Mitchell, and they were all that was left of the Medlin line. Not that the end of the Medlin line was any cause for grief. Mitchell, the youngest of the brood, fancied himself the shining star of the family, but he had no idea that Tommy stashed most of his pay every week. Nor was he going to know, because Tommy had his act down pat. By Wednesday or Thursday, when most the men started grousing about not having any money left, he did the same. Mitchell spent most evenings too drunk to keep track of his own pay, much less Tommy’s, so the plan had worked for years.
Sure enough, Tommy had just made it to the door when he heard Mitchell bellow his name. Tommy kept walking. Even if he had looked back, the smoke was probably too dense for them to see each other, but he wasn’t taking the chance. As the saloon doors swung shut behind him, he put his hat on and went for his horse.
Chapter Four
In the morning, Fiona’s jaw dropped at the sight of Em in her gray, pinstriped dress. How anyone could look good in that dress was beyond her. “Well, damn you,” she declared good-naturedly.
“Thank you for letting me borrow it.”
“Borrow it? I’d have to burn it now that I’ve seen you in it.”
Em’s smile broadened. “Fiona, you’re being silly. You look wonderful. And happy.”
“I suppose I am,” Fiona conceded. “Come on. I waited to have breakfast with you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I would have gotten up sooner—”
“No, don’t be. I never eat early anymore. Too iffy in the morning lately, if you know what I mean.”
Em blinked. “You mean—”
“We don’t speak about it yet, a’course, ’cause it’s too soon. But around Christmastime, there’ll be another little Jones in the world.”
“Congratulations,” Em said enthusiastically. Then, “Jones?”
“Yeah, I married Wayne.”
“Oh! Congratulations, again.”
The dining room was empty as they walked in. “You sit and I’ll get us a plate,” Fiona said. “I guess you like eggs and sausage?”
“I do. Thank you.”
Fiona grinned. “You’re so polite. I’d forgotten that about you.”
Fiona walked away, and Em worked her way through the dozen or so tables to one in the back of the room, but before she sat, she heard an argument begin between two women. Fiona quickly returned with a tray, and the argument continued. It was a relief that Fiona wasn’t involved.
Fiona transferred plates and glasses of milk onto the table. “I could’a guessed you’d choose this table.”
Em eyed the plate of scrambled eggs, sausages and a biscuit hungrily. “Why is that?”
“Off by itself. You want some coffee?”
It took some effort not to appear taken aback. “If it’s no trouble.”
“’Course it’s no trouble. You go ahead and eat.”
Em did, because she was hungry. She’d barely eaten in the first days of running—and her body wanted to make up for it now. When Fiona returned with cups of coffee a few minutes later, half of Em’s breakfast had been consumed.
“If you’re wondering about all the fussin’ and fightin’, that’s my mama and my aunt Doll. They love each other, believe it or not, but they are oil and water.” She took a bite and then shrugged. “They try drawing me into one of their spats and I just hold up my hand and walk away. No way I’m getting in the middle. Ya’ll work it out betweenst yourselves and leave me be.”
“This was your mother’s place?” Em inquired hesitantly.
“Still is. It’ll be mine and Wayne’s one day but, for now, he’s working the mine, like everybody else.”
“The mine?”
Fiona cocked her head. “You do know about them finding iron ore around here?”
“No.”
“Lord have mercy, girl! There’s this rich man, name of Gregory Howerton, and he’s buying up everything. He’s had this factory built, a big ole furnace is what it is, where they convert pig iron to steel. The railroads and
the cities are changing everything. Come to think of it, Mr. Howerton’s ranch is out near your uncle’s place. Didn’t he tell you?”
Em felt her face grow warm. “He may have mentioned it. I’ve been out of touch.”
“I guess so. Anyway, there’s a lot more people in town. I mean, a lot. It’s probably doubled since you’ve been gone. You been home since you left for college?”
Em shook her head.
“I’m telling you, when you get near Main Street, you won’t even believe your eyes. There’s new stores and a big new restaurant called Wiley’s. You heard of Harvey House Restaurants? Well, this is just like them. They even have Wiley girls, although, come to think of it, I don’t guess they call them that. That’s pretty funny, isn’t it? So, what was college like? Did you really go to a college for men and women? All ya’ll together?”
Em nodded, but she couldn’t reply to one question before Fiona asked another.
“Was it worth it? I always wondered, what could they teach me that I need to know and don’t already?”
“That’s a good point,” Em conceded.
Fiona sat back, suddenly looking burdened. “Em, I been thinking and, well . . . what I think is you weren’t treated right. And I’m real sorry about that.”
A painful lump formed in Em’s throat. It was ridiculous how much the apology touched her. She nodded, unable to speak for a moment.
“People can be mean,” Fiona continued. “And we were. I know that now. And all ’cause of that talk of how you’d struck up a friendship with the Lindleys.” Fiona’s hazel eyes still held a lot of curiosity. “It might not have even been true.”
“My cousins made sure I became an outcast,” Em said. “Especially Jimmy. But Patience wasn’t much better.”
“Yeah, that Jim’s a mean one,” Fiona agreed. “I learned that through Wayne.” She picked up her fork and toyed with her eggs. “So, there never was anything between you and the Lindleys?”
The question struck Em as both painful and funny since no one had ever bothered to ask before. “No, there was something,” Em said quietly.
