The Librarian of Boone's Hollow Page 14

  She threw her hairbrush into her suitcase and closed the lid. Even if she was living in a community of what Miss West had called backward people, she could maintain the morals and values she’d learned in the city. That included being kind to people, even if they weren’t kind to her. She slipped her bare feet into a pair of brown leather pumps and stepped beyond the blankets.

  Three windows, one on the front and one on each side, should have given the room plenty of light. No sunlight came through any of them. Was it too early for sunshine, or did the trees outside block it from entering? A lamp, shining from the center of the large table pushed into the front corner of the room, gave the space a cheery glow. Tablets and stacks of books sat on the table, evidence that Miss West had been busy already, but the woman was gone.

  The front door stood open, held in place by a red brick. Addie moved to the doorway and peeked outside. It must be early. Not even a hint of pink softened the dove-gray sky, and a foggy mist clung to bushes and the tops of trees. She looked first left and then right. “Miss West?”

  No one answered, although blasts of laughter and muttering male voices carried from somewhere up the road. Wariness tingled up Addie’s spine.

  What were those men doing out before daylight? And where was Miss West?

  She took a hesitant step out onto the stoop, hand curled around the rough-hewn doorjamb. “Miss West?”

  “I’m here, Addie.”

  Addie jumped. Miss West seemed to materialize from the morning mist. Addie moved aside and allowed the librarian’s entrance.

  Miss West went to the table and pulled out her chair, then sat heavily, chest rising and falling with great intakes of breath. She placed her hand on her bodice and gazed at Addie, brows low. “You’re up very early. Do you want breakfast?”

  The savory aroma clinging to the log walls tormented her and stirred her appetite, but more than food, Addie needed the outhouse. Should she go out, though, with who knew how many men lurking outside somewhere? “Um…”

  “You remember where to find the necessary?”

  Addie nodded. Miss West had taken her to it last night before bed, and it wasn’t far behind the smokehouse, between a pair of sapling maple trees.

  “Go on out, then.” She flicked her fingers at the door and rose. “I’ll light a fire in the stove and heat water for coffee and oatmeal. Would you like chopped dried apples added to your oatmeal?”

  “Yes, please.” Addie peeked out the door. The men’s chatter and laughter continued, but she couldn’t see anyone. The thick patch of trees and bushes hid them from view. What if the men were between her and the outhouse? What kind of impression would she give if the first sighting of the newcomer to town was of her running for the toilet?

  “Addie?”

  Addie looked over her shoulder. Miss West was gazing at her, confusion pinching her face.

  “Are you sure you don’t need me to show you to the outhouse?”

  Addie gestured to the open doorway. “I hear people out there.”

  Understanding dawned in the woman’s expression. “It’s the coal workers. They’re waiting in front of Belcher’s for the wagon that takes them to the mine in Lynch.”

  “Oh.” What a goose, frightened by voices of men who had every reason to be awake so early. Not to mention they were clear up the road near the general merchandise store. They wouldn’t be able to see her beyond the barrier of trees. “Well, then…” She hurried out the door and around the corner, hoping the morning air would cool the heat of embarrassment burning her cheeks.

  Bettina

  BY THE TIME Bettina left her cabin, she’d already put in two hours of work. She grumbled as she led Mule over the footbridge across Boone’s Creek and to the path leading to the Blevins’ place. If she cut through the trees between the Ashcroft and Landrum cabins, the shortcut would take her straight to the main road and would be easy walking to the library. But she’d likely run across Glory, and Glory’d want to jabber the whole way to work. Bettina needed some quiet to shake off the irksome feelings resting heavy on her toward Pap for booting her out of her own house to take in some city gal they didn’t even know. She’d take the back path instead. The back path…her peaceful place.

  When Maw was alive, she and Bettina took this path a lot. Maw liked walking in the shade under the trees. She spied out birds or baby bunnies or butterflies. She said this path by the woods was tranquil—a highfalutin word that meant calm. Maw favored the calm. Said the Good Lord Almighty Hisself built the woods, with its big trees that sang lullabies and flowers that showed off their colors and bushes that made homes for wiggly-nosed bunnies and toads and such. Bettina didn’t care all that much about trees and toads, but she loved that Maw took her along to her place of calm.

  Maw could name just about every growing thing, from Sweet William to lupine and Cumberland spurge. She never said where she learned ’em, but she sure knew ’em. Maw particularly liked the yellow toadflax. When she spotted one in full bloom, she’d stop and pinch one of the blossoms, making it bite the air like a little dragon. And she’d laugh and laugh. She made up a story once about the snapping flowers, but it was too long ago, and Bettina couldn’t recall it no more. But she recollected walking this path, coming out of the trees at the main road, and then heading on to Lynch for shopping at the company store. Bettina missed those days. Missed her maw.

  She kicked at a clump of wild grass at the edge of the narrow path. Why’d Maw have to up and die? Pap’d hollered when Maw was alive. Hollered a lot. But he’d never once raised a hand to Bettina when Maw was there. Nowadays, though, seemed like she couldn’t even make it through a full week without him whopping her for something. With warm weather coming on, she wanted to wear blouses with short sleeves, but she couldn’t if she had marks on her arms. Folks’d point and whisper. She hated when folks pointed and whispered.

  Nope, Pap hadn’t swung at her when Maw was with them. Having Maw there sure made a difference. Maybe having that new girl living in the house would— She came to a stop, and Mule bumped her with his nose. She yanked the reins and shot the animal a glare. “Be careful. Can’t you see I’m needin’ to think?”

  Mule snorted and tried to pull free, but she held tight. She’d been plain mad about moving to the barn, giving up her room. Her pretty calendar looked silly nailed to one of the stall posts. And if the chickens pooped on the blankets she’d spread out in the straw for sleeping on, she’d cook ’em up in a stewpot no matter if it meant no more fresh eggs. But if that new book gal was living in the house, Pap would have to behave himself. He wouldn’t be taking swings at Bettina no more.

  She laughed and danced a little jig. Mule snorted, but she grabbed him by his prickly jaw and planted a kiss on his nose. “I was lookin’ at it all backward, Mule. Her livin’ in the house—it’s gonna be a good thing after all. She’ll keep Pap calm, an’ he won’t be pickin’ at me. An’ livin’ in the barn’ll make it easier for me to come an’ go without him knowin’. Me an’ Emmett’ll be able to see each other every night if we want. Yessir, Pap says I’m the dumb one, but who’s the dummy now?”

  Still grinning big, she hurried Mule down the path and through the break in the trees. Glory’s and Alba’s horses were already at the library, munching the tender grass close to the bushes. Bettina gave Mule’s reins a toss over a mountain holly and darted inside the building. Alba had a full pack draped over her shoulder, and Miz West was sitting at the table, poking books inside Glory’s pack. Bettina cringed. She’d dawdled too much.

  She stepped close to the table and turned what she hoped was a remorseful look on the librarian. “I’m sorry I’m late, ma’am. Pap set me to some extra chores this mornin’, an’—” A girl with eyes as brown as a wet walnut shell and wavy goldish-brown hair pulled into a loose tail sat in the second chair.

  The girl stood up and took a step toward Bettina with her hand reaching ou
t. “You must be Bettina. Glory and Alba were telling me about you.”

  A flutter went through Bettina’s middle. What’d they say?

  “I’m Adelaide Cowherd. But everyone calls me Addie.”

  Bettina hadn’t ever shook hands with another girl. She didn’t want to do it now. Not after hanging on to Mule’s sticky reins. But she didn’t know what else to do. So she gave the girl’s fingers a quick squeeze and then jammed her hands into her dungaree pockets. “Howdy.”

  She looked Addie up and down. They must grow girls taller in the city, because Addie stood at least two inches higher than Glory, who was maybe three inches taller than Bettina. She wore a yellow-and-white-striped dress, with short puffed sleeves and real lace around the cuffs and collar. Her shoes were brown, with heels and a little strap that buttoned on the side. Bettina couldn’t help but stare. How would she get on a horse’s back in that fancy outfit? But boy, oh boy, what Bettina would give to have a dress and shoes like hers.

  Glory nudged Bettina on the shoulder. “Miss West said Addie’s gonna stay here today instead o’ goin’ on a route.”

  That explained the outfit. Bettina turned to Miz West. “How come?”

  Miz West’s lips puckered up the way Maw’s had when Pap came in pickled. “She requires a day to settle in, Bettina. She doesn’t yet have a horse to take on a route, and she needs to arrange lodging.”

  Bettina rocked on her heels. “Lodgin’ is all settled.” She whisked her smile back and forth between the new girl and Miz West. “That’s part o’ why I was so late. I was makin’ up her room. My pap says she can stay with us for two dollars a week.”

  Addie puckered her lips, too. She reached for Bettina again and brushed her fingertips on Bettina’s checkered sleeve. “That’s very kind of you, Bettina, but I’m going to stay with a lady.”

  “What lady?”

  Alba snickered. “She’s fixin’ to stay with Nanny Fay.”

  Bettina’s mouth dropped open. “What?” She had it all worked out in her head. This new book gal couldn’t go and ruin it now. “Why’re you stayin’ with her? I got everything ready for you.”

  Addie’s face went pink. “I’m so sorry you went to so much trouble. Maybe if I’d known…”

  She would’ve known if she’d asked. Bettina stomped her bare foot. “Only a fool would take up with Nanny Fay. She’s a witch. She—”

  “Bettina, Bettina.” Miz West took hold of Bettina’s wrist and gave it a gentle shake. “We shouldn’t speak so unkindly of someone.”

  Bettina yanked loose. “Even if it’s the truth?”

  The librarian stood and looked Bettina straight in the face. “It isn’t the truth. There are no witches in Boone’s Hollow.”

  The mad she thought she’d got rid of came back stronger than ever. Bettina huffed. “But Nanny Fay ain’t from Boone’s Holler. Not a livin’ soul in these parts knows where she come from. My pap says she—”

  “I already know what your father and too many others in this town say.” Miz West gave Bettina such a glower that Bettina looked aside. “And I don’t believe one word of it. Nanny Fay is a kind old woman who has opened her home to Addie. It’s up to Addie to choose where she wants to stay, and she’s chosen Nanny Fay’s place. Now, that’s the end of it.”

  Bettina gritted her teeth for a few seconds, thinking hard. Then she swung her attention to Addie. “How much you payin’ her? Me an’ Pap, we’ll take less. Dollar an’ a half a week.” Bettina’d have to make up the other fifty cents out of her pay, but it would be worth the sacrifice to keep from getting whopped and being able to see Emmett more. She leaned closer to the new girl. “Dollar fifty for room an’ meals. You ain’t gonna get a better price’n that.”

  Addie looked from Bettina to Alba, to Glory, and finally to Miz West. With her lips all clenched up tight, she kept looking at the librarian.

  Miz West let out a big sigh. She put her hand on Bettina’s shoulder. “Bettina, please thank your father for his kind offer, but the decision has been made.” She turned and picked up Bettina’s pouch. “You girls have your packs. You should get going. Be safe.”

  Bettina wouldn’t be safe. As soon as she told Pap this new book gal wasn’t coming, he’d beat her black and blue. She snatched the pack and stormed to the door, then scowled at the new book gal over her shoulder. “You be safe, too, Addie. You’re gonna need them good wishes if you put yourself under Nanny Fay’s roof. Wait an’ see.”

  Lynch

  Emmett

  EMMETT PLOPPED A BATTERED METAL hat onto his head, grabbed a shovel from the half dozen leaning against the wall right inside the mine shaft opening, and followed Paw. Lit lanterns hung from the thick beams lining the tunnel and made it easy for him to keep track of his father, even though dozens of men swarmed the underground space.

  Every man Paw passed got a bop on the shoulder, followed by a variation of the same proud statement. “My boy’s signed on. Startin’ work today. That’s him behind me—Emmett.”

  Emmett received more smiles, nods, and greetings in the first fifteen minutes of his official employment at Mine Thirty-One than he’d gotten in his first several months at college. They were a friendly lot, for certain. Paw had said every kind of man—Italian, German, Hungarian, Irish, descendants of former slaves, and more—worked together in the mine, but Emmett had secretly questioned how well they got along. Now he saw for himself.

  Their backgrounds didn’t seem to matter much. Not the way his hills heritage had been received by some of the students from the city or the way his education put off folks at home, including Paw. Shoveling coal into wagons for transport out of the mine might not have been his first choice for a job, but he felt at ease with the men. Accepted. He belonged. And he liked the feeling. He especially liked how proud Paw was of him.

  The tunnel curved slightly, and they reached a hill formed by chunks of coal. Two men jammed shovels into the pile and dumped the shovelfuls into wooden carts with steel wheels. Coal dust hung in the air like a cloud, and Emmett fought back a sneeze. A third man, heavyset with a thick black beard, stood close by with a clipboard in his hand. Paw gave Emmett a little nudge toward the clipboard-holding man. Up close, Emmett realized the man’s beard itself wasn’t black, but it looked black from a coating of dust.

  “Stead, this is my son Emmett. He’s gonna be one o’ your shovel men.”

  The man named Stead stuck out his stained hand, and Emmett shook it. “Good to have you. Did they give you some coal checks?”

  Emmett patted his pocket where a dozen round brass pieces stamped with the number twenty-seven clinked together. “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, then, you’re set. Ain’t a complicated job. Scoop up what’s on the floor an’ put it in the cart. When the cart’s full and heaped, hang a coal check on the little hook at the front of the cart. Yank that rope good”—he pointed to a frayed rope attached to a tarnished brass bell—“an’ some fellers’ll come push this cart out o’ the way.”

  Emmett touched his finger on the little hook and glanced at the bell. “Then what?”

  “You fill the next one.”

  Emmett glanced up the tunnel. He counted six carts, but the curve of the shaft probably hid more from view. He turned to Stead. “How many do we fill in a day?”

  Stead grinned, his teeth exceptionally white against the blackness of his beard. “Seein’ as how you get paid per ton, as many as you’re able.”

  Paw put his hand on Emmett’s shoulder. “ ’Member what I said about keepin’ your hat on. Fellers’ll be dynamitin’ on up the line. You don’t gotta get rattled by the booms or how the ground’ll shake, but if you hear a whistle give two short blasts followed by a third long one, hightail it for the openin’. You got that?”

  Emmett nodded. “I understand, Paw. Keep working unless I hear two short whistle blasts and one long one. Then run.” He wrung h
is hands on the shovel handle the way someone might wring a chicken’s neck. Sweat broke out across his back underneath his shirt. “How often does the warning whistle blast?”

  Stead’s expression turned grim. “Even once is too often.” He shrugged and gave Emmett a light tap on the arm with the clipboard. “But we’ve gone comin’ up on three months now with no cave-ins, an’ nobody’s been serious hurt for longer’n that, so don’t fret.”

  The man’s statement removed some of Emmett’s worry. “Thank you, sir. I’ll try not to.”

  Paw scuffed backward, lifting his hand in a farewell. “I’ll see you at lunch break. Have a good mornin’.”

  “You, too, Paw.”

  Paw spun on his heel and trotted off. The tunnel and its cloud of dust swallowed him up. Emmett took a good grip on his shovel. If he got paid by the ton, he’d better get busy.

  Boone’s Hollow

  Addie

  WHILE MISS WEST recorded information in a notebook, her careful application of pen to paper reminding Addie of Griselda Ann’s slow motions at the library desk in Lexington, Addie put away the books and magazines the packhorse librarians had brought back last Friday. She’d become so familiar with the shelving system in Lexington that she could put things away in her sleep. Although much smaller and with limited resources, the Boone’s Hollow library was organized just as well. Addie easily located where every item should go.