The Librarian of Boone's Hollow Read online

  Addie wanted to comfort him, but she didn’t want to leave Nanny Fay without support. The woman continued to cry in whimpering moans and hiccups. Suddenly Bettina’s behavior—her resentment, her desire to win Emmett’s favor, her jealousy—made sense. Addie rubbed Nanny Fay’s quivering back and held Emmett’s gaze. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him or the people in this community, but I think we now know what’s wrong with Bettina. And I think we should—”

  “Why’re you talkin’ about me?” Bettina’s angry voice blasted from the doorway. She pointed at Nanny Fay. “What’s that ol’ witch woman doin’ here?” Her face drained of color, and her finger took aim at the crumpled gingham. “An’ why’s she got my maw’s dress?”

  Emmett took a step toward her. “Bettina, we know what your pap’s been doing.”

  The girl’s hazel eyes narrowed to resentment-filled slits. “W-w-what’re you talkin’ about?”

  Emmett stretched his hand to her and gently lifted her cuff. “This.”

  Bettina thrust her hand behind her back. “I did that myself. Did it choppin’ wood.”

  “Bettina…” Emmett spoke so gently that tears stung Addie’s eyes. “Those aren’t bruises from chopping wood. They’re from a hand. From your father’s hand. Am I right?”

  She balled her fists and glowered at Emmett. “You think I’m stupid enough to let a man put his hands on me? If you think that, you’re the stupid one. You, an’ you, an’ you!” She pointed at each of them by turn, her motions jerky and uncontrolled. She flung the book pack onto the library floor and spun toward the doorway. “An’ that blueberry jam tasted like dirt!”

  “Bettina!”

  Emmett and Addie called her name at the same time, but she raced out of the library, flung herself on Mule’s back, and escaped up the street.

  Bettina

  BETTINA RODE MULE HARD. UP the road past the church, past the schoolhouse, all the way through Tuckett’s Pass and up where backwood folks hiding from revenuers lived. She would’ve gone farther, except Mule’s sides were heaving and froth bubbled out of his mouth. She might kill him if she kept going, and then what would she do? She stopped and slid from his back.

  “C’mon, Mule.” She led him into the trees a ways. Little Muddy Creek was here somewhere. Dumb name for a creek. The water was clear as glass. She’d let him get a drink and clean the froth off his nose. The water up high was cold year-round. It’d cool him down fast, and if she dipped her wrists, it’d take some of the pain out. But no creek, no matter how cold, could take the pain out of her heart.

  “They know, Mule. They know my pap hates me.” She could say it out loud to Mule. He wouldn’t tell nobody. Wouldn’t laugh. Or, worse, look at her all pitying like. She couldn’t stand them looks she got after Maw died, everybody petting her hair and rubbing her shoulder and saying things like, “Poor Bettina. What’s she gonna do now that she ain’t got no maw?” Wasn’t nothing worse than being pitied. She missed Maw. Missed her more’n she ever knew a body could miss someone. But all the pitying in the world wouldn’t bring her back. If something didn’t do no good, why do it?

  Mule bobbed his head up and down and snorted. She took a few more steps, and the trickle of water running over stones met her ears. Mule must’ve smelled it. She pushed through a little more brush, and there was Little Muddy Creek. Mule plunged his nose in, and she crouched next to the water and watched it flow.

  Her muscles unpinched, and she let out a long, slow breath. Listening to the water’s music, smelling the clean air and pine and honeysuckle, being there with Mule in the fading light soothed her. Maybe she’d stay up here tonight. Maybe she’d stay up here forever. Not like anybody really cared about her anyway. Pap said she was nothin’ more’n a burr under his saddle. Only reason he kept her around was for chores and the money she brought in. She’d been planning on moving out soon as she married Emmett, so—

  She lurched upright. Emmett…He was nice as nice could be in the library, but only ’cause he felt sorry for her. He hadn’t never looked at her that way before. She wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes ever again after seeing his pity. Even if they did get married now, she’d always wonder if he married her out of feeling sorry for her.

  Mule shook his head, spraying water over her, then stuck his wet nose against her neck. She stood and curled her arms around his spotted neck. “We ain’t goin’ back, Mule. For sure not tonight. We’ll decide tomorrow if it’ll be forever.”

  Emmett

  EMMETT DRUMMED HIS fingers on Burke Webber’s dinner table and bounced his knee. The hard dirt under his foot made an annoying grating sound. But he couldn’t sit still. Neither could Maw. She was flicking the corners of the pages she’d found in Bettina’s room, reading the words. Both of them were as twitchy as a starved man hunting grouse. But they’d sit here until Bettina got home. Even if Burke arrived first.

  Emmett watched Maw’s face while she read. Despite the nervous flick-flick-flick, she was caught up. The same way he’d been when he read the same pages. He’d been uneasy about Maw snooping in Bettina’s personal space, but she insisted she had to, saying, “If she packed up an’ then skedaddled, we need to not sit an’ wait. We need to go searchin’ for her.” She was right, so he stopped arguing. Then he was glad she went in, because she found Addie’s story and what looked like a letter Addie had written to a friend. Maw tucked the letter in her pocket—“That’s private an’ we shouldn’t look at it”—but she was enjoying the story.

  He couldn’t wait to tell Addie the lost had been found. And the fact that Bettina had taken it made him wonder if she had been the one to wreak havoc in the library. He’d rather it was her than the other person he suspected. Either way, he wouldn’t press charges like he’d vowed to do in the heat of anger. But it’d be easier on his heart if Bettina had done it in a jealous fit than if it’d been done by another to personally hurt him.

  Maw’s thumb stilled. She looked up. “What time is it?”

  He checked his timepiece. “Half past six.”

  “The miners’ wagon should be pullin’ up to Belcher’s about now.” She set the story aside. “Reckon we’ll be confrontin’ Burke before we see Bettina. Maybe that’s best.” She shook her head, and tears made her blue eyes brighten. “How could I not’ve known how Burke was hurtin’ her? Rosie was my best friend. I knew how her maw whaled on her, an’ I knew Burke spoke rough. Heard him myself an’ didn’t like her puttin’ up with such. I told Rosie so, too.” Horror flooded her expression. “You reckon that’s why she never told me he was doin’ more’n rough talk? ’Cause she thought I blamed her?”

  Emmett reached across the table and placed his hands over Maw’s. “I reckon she didn’t tell you for the same reason Bettina never told anybody. She felt shameful about it and didn’t want anyone to know.” He closed his eyes for a moment, searching his memory, then looked his mother in the eyes. “In my psychology class, the professor told us that people often don’t admit they’re being abused because they think they caused it somehow by what they did or didn’t do. They don’t want others, especially others they admire, to know how worthless they are.”

  Maw jerked her hands free. “Rosie wasn’t worthless! An’ neither is Bettina.”

  He rounded the table and knelt next to Maw. “Of course not. No one’s worthless in God’s eyes.” Not even Burke Webber. The truth drew him up short. He struggled to regain his train of thought. “But when someone treats you bad over and over, you start feeling worthless. That’s probably what happened to Rosie and Bettina. They didn’t tell you not because they don’t trust you but because they admire you and want you to admire them.”

  Maw gazed into his eyes for several seconds, her brows pulled low and her lips pressed into a thin line. Then she shook her head and sighed. A deep, regretful sigh. “I wish she’d told me, Emmett. Maybe she’d be alive today if she’d just told.”

 
Emmett rose and placed his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “We can’t do anything more for Rosie, but we can help Bettina. And we will by—”

  “Gal, why don’t I smell supper cookin’?” The roar came from outside the cabin, and then Burke stormed in. He slid to a stop and aimed his angry glare at Emmett. “What’re you doin’ in here? Did Bettina let you in?” He tossed his scowl left and right. “Bettina? Where are you, gal? You know better’n to have folks in when I ain’t home.”

  Maw stood. “Burke, stop your bellowin’. Bettina ain’t here. We let ourselves in. The door wasn’t locked.”

  His lips curled into a derisive snarl. “Locked or not, you wasn’t invited. That’s trespassin’.”

  “Maybe it is, but least we didn’t hurt nobody by comin’ in.”

  Burke growled under his breath.

  Emmett had brought Maw for Bettina’s sake, but he hadn’t expected her to confront Burke. Her love for Rosie and Bettina emboldened her. But she was stoking Burke’s fury fire. He stepped between them. “Burke, we’re here about Bettina.”

  He stomped to the standing cupboard in the corner and pawed through it. “She fall off the mule an’ hurt herself?”

  His lack of concern stirred Emmett’s compassion for Bettina and raised his ire at the man. He prayed for calm and patience before answering. “No, she didn’t hurt herself. But you’ve been hurting her.”

  Burke stopped all movement. Then he slowly turned and sent a menacing glare at Emmett. “What’s she been tellin’ you?”

  “She hasn’t said a word. But her bruises speak for themselves.”

  Burke snorted a laugh. “Oh, law, that?” He turned his attention to the cupboard and pulled out a can. He ambled toward the stove. “Girl’s as clumsy as a newborn colt. Always bumpin’ into things or droppin’ somethin’.” He clanked the can onto the iron stove. He dug in his pocket, withdrew a pocketknife, and pried at the can’s lid. “I tell you what, though. I might take a stick to her when she gets in tonight. She knows she’s s’posed to come on home an’ get supper cookin’. She’s always been dim witted, but since you took over at the lib’ary, Emmett, she’s been downright addlebrained. Needs a good hidin’ to knock some sense into her.”

  Maw pushed Emmett aside. “Is that why you beat Rosie? To knock sense into her?”

  He spun toward them, the little knife gripped in his fist. “What happens between a man an’ his woman is just that—between them. So you best hush your talk, Damaris.”

  The knife blade shining in the lamplight gave Emmett chills. He stepped in front of Maw again, but she scuttled around him. Normally as docile and delicate as a hummingbird, now she puffed up like a rooster protecting the henhouse. “Why’d you do it, Burke? Why’d you raise your fists to her? She was such a gentle soul. She didn’t deserve what you give her.”

  Burke threw the knife on the stove, then pointed at Maw. “I ain’t gonna put up with no sass in my own home. ’Specially not from some woman who don’t know her place.” He aimed his coal-blackened finger at Emmett. “Take your maw out o’ here before I forget myself. An’ tell my moony-eyed, lame-brained excuse for a daughter to get herself home. There’s chores waitin’.”

  “I can’t do that, Burke.”

  The man scrunched his face into a disbelieving scowl. “You forget you’re speakin’ to one o’ your elders, boy? Your pap taught you better’n that.”

  “Yes, sir, he did.” Emmett picked up Addie’s story from the table and curled it into a tube. “But I can’t send Bettina because I don’t know where she is. That’s why Maw and I came here—to check on her. And I’ll be honest, even if I knew where she was, I wouldn’t send her here. Not after knowing that you’ve been mistreating her.”

  Burke braced his hand on the stove and leaned, his head tipping at a sharp angle. “I knew Bettina was sweet on you, but I sure never expected you to go soft over her, you bein’ a college boy an’ all. That girl, she’s a looker, same as her maw. I’ll give ’er that. But she’s dumb as a stick.” He straightened and turned his back to them. Knife in hand, he dug at the can’s lid. “I’m done talkin’. Go home.”

  Emmett curled his hand around Maw’s elbow and gave her a little tug toward the door, but she dug in her heels.

  “What about Bettina?” Maw quivered from head to toe, and her face glowed bright red. “Don’t you care at all about where she’s at right now? How she’s feelin’?”

  Burke snatched a small pot from a shelf above the stove and emptied the can’s contents into it. “What I’m carin’ about right now is gettin’ my belly filled after a long day o’ work. You might oughta go see to your husband’s supper, Damaris.”

  Maw shot out the door, and Emmett followed. She stomped over the dirt path leading away from the cabin, her lips set tight and her eyes sparking fury. Emmett had never seen his mother so riled, and even though the Bible advised using a soft answer to turn away wrath, he didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. They got as far as the little footbridge across Boone’s Creek, and she whirled to face him. “You ain’t goin’ home. Nor to the lib’ary.”

  “You want me to try to find Bettina?”

  “No. She knows this mountain an’ likely has a spot she’s gone to before to get away from…from…” She waved her hand in the direction of the Webber cabin. “She’ll come down when she’s good an’ ready. But when she comes, she’ll go home. An’ somebody needs to waylay her an’ keep her from goin’ in. Burke’s all wound up. He’ll likely soothe himself with some o’ his homemade brew when he’s done eatin’. If you think Burke’s mean when he’s sober, you don’t wanna see him drunk. If he really gave Rosie a mortal wound with his fists, he might do the same to Bettina. We can’t risk it.”

  Dusk would fall soon. The time when fireflies flickered in the bushes and cicadas started singing. Summer sights and sounds that had always meant good times to Emmett. But this conversation, the reason for it, tainted the promise of a sweet summer evening. “All right, Maw. I’ll stay right here and watch for her.”

  “Good. I’ll go by the lib’ary, tell Addie an’ Nanny Fay that Bettina’s took off somewhere an’ they should go on home. Then I need to get myself home an’ feed your paw an’ Dusty. But soon as we’re done eatin’, I’ll send your paw to keep watch with you. I’ll send some supper with him, too, so you don’t go hungry.”

  He wasn’t hungry at all. His stomach held too much dread. But he wouldn’t turn down Maw’s cooking. “Thanks, Maw.”

  She wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you, Son, for carin’ enough to help Bettina. I know she’s been a real trial to you, but she’s only wantin’ to be loved. We gotta feel sorry for her instead o’ bein’ upset with her.” She squeezed his middle, pressing her cheek against his chest. “An’ I gotta remind myself that vengeance is God’s, ’cause—oh, dear Lord, forgive me—I’m fightin’ a terrible urge to find a chunk o’ wood an’ take aim at Burke Webber’s fool head.”

  High on Black Mountain

  Bettina

  MULE SNUFFLED THE BACK OF Bettina’s neck and woke her. She rolled over and squinted at him. The trees blocked most of the moonlight, but his white hide glowed like a ghost in the shadows. She rubbed his nose. “You’re all right. Least you got supper.”

  He’d chomped tender grass growing by the creek while she searched for wild onions. But she hadn’t found any. Her belly ached from emptiness. She should’ve brought that jar of blueberry jam Nanny Fay’d gave her. Her mouth watered, remembering its sweetness. Had it broke when she threw her pack? It’d be all over the books if it did. She didn’t know if she was more sorry about losing the jam or the books. And she didn’t know why she even cared about the books.

  She gave Mule’s prickly nose another rub. “Quiet now. Go to sleep.”

  But Mule unfolded his legs and stood, shaking his head and snorting. Bettina stood, too. Mule was smart. If he was nervous, someth
ing was prowling. What was hiding in the shadows? A cougar? Maybe a bear? Knowing that wild critters came out to drink at night, she’d took Mule far away from the creek before they bedded down. But maybe she hadn’t gone far enough. Or maybe she’d put them right close to a den. Not like she could see, with it being so dark after sundown. Her heart took up such a pounding she thought it might come right on out of her chest. She curled her arms around Mule’s neck and held tight, needing the comfort his warm, strong form provided.

  Twigs snapped nearby, and men’s voices muttered.

  “Oh, lawsy, Mule, somebody’s out there,” she whispered into Mule’s pointed ear. She’d for sure picked the wrong place to rest. She didn’t smell no sour mash, and she sure knew what it smelled like from visiting Pap’s still, but maybe the pine trees covered it up. That’s why Pap’s was in the high reaches of Black Mountain—he said the strong smell from pine trees could hide most anything.

  Would the trees hide Mule’s and her smells? Because those voices were getting louder. Closer. Probably moonshiners, and they didn’t take to folks snooping around their stills. She and Mule might get shot and buried, and nobody’d ever know what happened to them. She whispered to Mule, “Least if we get killed, I’ll get to see Maw again.”

  That is if God let her come through heaven’s gates. She shivered. She pawed until she found Mule’s trailing reins. She took hold and pulled. “C’mon, we gotta—”

  “Who’s there?”

  She’d whispered too loud. Now they were coming. Feet crushed dried leaves. More twigs snapped, louder this time. It was dark enough for her to hide, but how to hide Mule? His white coat would stick out no matter where she took him. She danced in place, and Mule made snuffly noises, and before she could find the courage to leave him and run, two men burst through the bushes and pointed rifles at her.