“Indeed, I do. Please sit down.”
The straight-backed chair from the corner now sat facing Mrs. Hunt’s desk. Addie’s apprehension flickered to life again. Apparently, Mrs. Hunt planned a lengthy conversation if she wanted Addie to sit. Addie’s knees went weak. She sank into the chair and folded her hands in her lap.
“Have you been accepted at any of the places of employment at which you’ve applied for positions?”
Addie shook her head, hoping her negative response wouldn’t discourage her boss. After all, the woman had penned a very kind letter of reference for her. “I plan to revisit some of them after work today, though.” Oh, please let her sophisticated appearance garner fresh attention.
Mrs. Hunt lifted a folded sheet of paper from a box on the corner of her desk. She waved it slightly. “Before you decide to revisit those places of business, let me tell you about an opportunity of which I became aware over the weekend. Have you heard of the Works Progress Administration?”
“Isn’t it a program established by the president to give people jobs?”
“It is.” Mrs. Hunt unfolded the sheet, then laid it on her desk and linked her hands on top of it. “My mother’s cousin Lydia West received a WPA job as director of a very small library in a town nestled on the side of Black Mountain. It’s an impoverished area with many uneducated families living in the hills. Lydia organizes the library’s books and various reading materials. These books are distributed among the hills people so they, especially the children in the families, are exposed to reading and literature.”
Recalling the joy of checking out books from the library when she was a child, Addie couldn’t resist smiling. “What a wonderful idea.”
“I quite agree. The books are carried to the families by employees who ride horses up into the hills. Lydia calls them”—she glanced at the paper under her hands—“packhorse librarians.”
Such a quaint title. Addie imagined it as a book title, and at once a story formed in her mind.
“According to Lydia, the three young women serving as packhorse librarians are overtaxed by the many stops they must make. She petitioned and received approval to add a fourth rider. And, of course, I thought of you.”
Still contemplating the delightful story that could grow from sending out librarians on horseback, Addie almost missed Mrs. Hunt’s final comment. The woman’s meaning sank in, and she gave a little jolt. “Me?”
The woman chuckled. “Why not? You need a job, and the WPA pays a fair wage. You’re familiar with the inner workings of a library system, and I know you’re a proponent of reading.” Her lips curved upward and her eyes sparkled. “What do you think, Addie? Are you interested in becoming a packhorse librarian?”
Addie
ADDIE STARED AT MRS. HUNT while searching for an appropriate reply. Of course she wanted a job. She needed a job. But as a packhorse librarian in a little town so far away? She’d imagined herself working in Lexington, only a short train ride from Georgetown where Mother and Daddy and all things familiar were found. Kentucky’s Black Mountain was three hours away in what amounted to the opposite direction of home. Did she want to go to Black Mountain?
“Addie, what are your thoughts?”
Mrs. Hunt would think she was addlebrained if she didn’t say something. “I…I’m…”
Mrs. Hunt laughed. “I’m sure you’re full of questions. Let me provide a little more information, hmm? First of all, the position pays twenty-nine dollars a month.”
Addie’s mouth fell open. She’d earned six dollars and fifty cents a month working at the Lexington Public Library. The prospect of earning twenty-nine dollars a month felt like a windfall.
“And, of course, you must be able to ride a horse. Are you familiar with riding a horse?”
On the way home from the orphans’ asylum after Daddy and Mother adopted her, they’d taken her to a little fair. She’d eaten cotton candy, won a rag doll by knocking over milk bottles with small bean-filled bags, and ridden a pony named Gert on a circular track. A photo of her sitting astride Gert’s back had been displayed for years on a table in the parlor, and she surmised Mother and Daddy now had it in their room at the boardinghouse. Of course, riding a full-sized horse on mountain trails would differ from her brief ride on Gert’s back, but at least she wasn’t completely inexperienced. “Yes, ma’am, I’ve ridden before.”
“The town where Lydia’s library is stationed is called Boone’s Hollow, not far from the mining town of Lynch. There are no boardinghouses or hotels in Boone’s Hollow—it’s much too small for that—but Lydia stays in the library building itself. Given the difficulties of the times, someone should be willing to board you for a small stipend each month, or perhaps you could take a room at one of the boardinghouses in Lynch. Lydia says rooms are available to let for two dollars and fifty cents a week, and Boone’s Hollow is only a mile from Lynch.”
The distance between Boone’s Hollow and Lynch didn’t alarm Addie nearly as much as the distance between Boone’s Hollow and her parents. But how could she turn down the opportunity to earn almost thirty dollars a month? Even after paying for boarding, she’d have plenty left over. She could send some to the college and still be able to help Mother and Daddy. Fear drummed a wild beat within her breast. She held her breath, willing her erratic pulse to calm, and bit the inside of her lip.
Mrs. Hunt set the letter aside and folded her hands on the desk, brows low. “Addie, if you aren’t interested in the position, you will not offend me by saying so.”
Addie’s breath eased out. She swallowed. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I was thinking. Deciding.” A nervous giggle escaped. “I’ve never made such a big decision on my own. It’s a little overwhelming.”
Understanding bloomed on the library director’s face. “Of course it is. Would you like to call your parents and seek their counsel before answering?”
As much as Addie wanted to talk to her parents, she shouldn’t waste money on a telephone call. She could almost hear Mother’s voice in her head. “We’ve been praying for provision, and God has provided.” Daddy’s deep yet tender voice followed. “Working beneath the direction of a woman who is known and recommended by someone you trust gives me full confidence you will be well cared for.”
Addie held her hands outward. “Mrs. Hunt, I know how my parents would counsel me. They would say God has opened a door and I should walk through it.”
Mrs. Hunt smiled. She reached for the telephone sitting on the corner of her desk. “Shall I let Lydia know a new packhorse librarian has been located?”
Addie’s heart thudded in both apprehension and anticipation as she nodded.
Mrs. Hunt picked up the receiver and dialed the 0. “Operator? Please connect me with Boone’s Hollow, Kentucky.”
Boone’s Hollow
Bettina
BETTINA FLUNG THE saddlebag-like pouch over her shoulder. The weight smacked down on her back, and she winced. It must’ve hit right where Pap’d landed a blow last night at supper. Her own fault. She shouldn’t have fed him beans without no salt pork in them. She’d hoped he’d be too pickled to notice, but…
She shifted the pouch and glared across the beat-up old table and stacks of books at the city-lady librarian. “How many books’ve you loaded me with this time, Miz West? Feels like a hunnerd at least.”
The woman sent Bettina the kind of look Alba Gilkey gave bugs that landed on her hand. “Now, Bettina, you know we have a strict rule about limiting the weight of the packs to twenty-five pounds.” Then she let out a little airy sigh. Bettina’d never been around anybody who sighed more’n Miz West. Glory thought she did it because she had breathing problems. Bettina wasn’t so sure. “Of course, the scale I use might not be one hundred percent accurate. But I do try not to overburden you.”
Alba Gilkey gave Miz West a pat on her rounded shoulder. “Don’t worry none about it, ma�
��am. Bettina ain’t happy unless she’s got somethin’ to fuss about. She’s always been that way.”
Alba smiled while she talked, like she was telling a joke, but Bettina bristled anyway. That Alba was always trying to cozy up to folks and make herself look so good and perfect, but Bettina knew better. And Bettina had lots of reasons for fussing. Losing her maw before she was fully growed, having to duck away from Pap’s swinging fists whenever his temper got hold of him, not being smart enough to—
“Well, I have some good news for you girls.”
Bettina slammed the door on her inner grumblings and gave Miz West her full attention. Seeing as how she hadn’t gotten even a peek at Emmett yesterday and got smacked by Pap last night, she could use some good news.
“I got a telephone call from Lexington yesterday afternoon.” Miz West beamed, proud as a jaybird. “Another rider will soon join us.”
Glory gasped, eyes wide. “She’s gonna carry books, too?”
“Indeed, she will. We’ll divide the book-drop locations between the four of you, which means you’ll each have fewer stops on your routes.”
Glory and Alba squealed. Bettina didn’t squeal. Squealing hurt Pap’s ears, so she’d long ago trained herself not to make the happy noise. But she couldn’t help smiling. Fewer stops meant not so many hours in the hills. Not so many hours in the hills meant more hours free in the evenings. She wouldn’t spend those evenings at home, either. She’d be courting.
Hooking her thumbs in her overall straps, she leaned forward some to better balance the pack. “When’s she gonna get here? Today?”
“No, not today. Most likely not until next week.”
Glory and Alba groaned, and Bettina huffed. “How come it’s gonna take so long?”
Alba nudged Glory. “There she goes, fussin’ again.”
Like her and Glory hadn’t complained, too? Bettina glared hard at Alba. The girl’s cheeks went all pink, and she looked to the side. Bettina gave a little humph and turned to Miz West. “What I’m meanin’ is trains go between Lynch an’ Lexington twice every day. She could get here this very afternoon if she wanted to.”
“That’s true.” Miz West handed Glory her pouch. It didn’t look near as fat as Bettina’s. “But there’s paperwork and such I need to complete, and she’s committed to another job until the end of the month. So it will be a little while yet.” As she talked, she slid books into the third pouch. Now she fastened it and gave it to Alba, who almost dropped it.
Bettina held back a snort. Alba was so spindly she couldn’t hardly carry a cup of buttermilk.
Miz West bounced her smile on Glory, Alba, and Bettina. She left it aimed at Bettina. “But help is coming. It’s good news, yes?”
The three of them nodded, but a sudden worry smacked Bettina as hard as Pap’s fist ever had. “If we ain’t gonna have as many stops, are we gonna make less money?” Now that Pap’d got used to her turning over all but nine dollars of her pay every month, he’d have a conniption fit if she brung him less. He’d probably think she was holding out on him. She shivered, considering what he’d do.
Miz West held up her plump hands. “No, no, your salary won’t drop by even a penny.”
Bettina grinned. Well, now, that was better-’n-good news. “Thank you, ma’am. We best be goin’. Still got all our stops to make today.” She headed for the door.
“Be safe, girls.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they chorused.
Bettina stepped from the dark smokehouse-turned-library to the street. Morning sunlight attacked her eyes, and she squinted at Glory and Alba, who trailed after her same as they’d done since they was little bitty girls. She went straight to the trio of animals waiting with their reins draped over the straggly limbs of bushes at the edge of the woods. “Wonder how she’ll divvy things up.”
Glory double-stepped up next to Bettina. “Reckon she’ll take some o’ yours an’ some o’ mine an’ Alba’s, an’ make a fresh route for her.”
“Nah.” Alba huffed and puffed, acting like she was carrying a whole ton of coal instead of a little ol’ pouch of books. Bettina just knew Alba’s pack weighed less than hers. Probably all magazines and no books at all. “Can’t do it that way or she’ll be zigzaggin’ like a rabbit all over the mountain. Miz West’ll likely make all new routes for each of us.”
Glory’s mouth fell open. “All new? I ain’t hardly got used to the one I got now.”
Alba shrugged. She braced herself, then heaved her bag over her horse’s rump. She swiped her forehead with the back of her hand, making her curly pale blond hair fluff up. “Won’t bother me none to learn a new route. ’Specially if it’ll keep me from havin’ to cross Tuckett’s Creek. Neither me nor Biscuit”—she rubbed her horse’s white nose—“are fond o’ that rushin’ water.”
“You think you got it bad?” Glory put her fist on her hip, acting all sassy, the way movie starlets did when they were fixing to let loose on somebody, most often on the rival for their man. “My route near goes straight up to get to the Pascals’ place. Have to do it on foot. Poor Posey here can’t climb such steep slopes. Don’t know why the Pascals is on the list anyhow. Don’t reckon there’s a one of ’em in that cabin who even knows their ABCs. All they want is picture books.”
Alba snickered.
Bettina’s face burned hot. She real quick took the two paper-wrapped salt-pork-on-biscuit sandwiches she’d made for her lunch out of her pocket and slid them into the book pouch. Then she flopped the bag across her mule’s back and swung herself on after it. “Ain’t gonna know what’ll change until the new gal comes, so we might as well get to deliverin’.”
Glory made a sling with her hands and helped Alba onto her horse. That Alba was helpless as a newborn in some ways. Then Glory climbed onto her horse’s back. She grabbed the reins and sent a smirk at Bettina and Alba. “Be safe.”
This time Bettina snickered along with the other girls. Every morning, Miz West told them the same thing when they left for their routes. The comment always made her want to laugh. City lady…scared of the dark, most likely. There wasn’t one solitary thing out on the mountain that scared Bettina. Her scary thing lived under her very own roof. But soon as she and Emmett married up, she’d be able to leave Pap and be safe and happy. Emmett was so big, so strong. He’d never let Pap hurt her again.
That new girl couldn’t get to Boone’s Holler quick enough to suit Bettina.
Alba set off through the trees to the west, Glory went southeast, and Bettina guided her mule in a northeasterly direction. Her first stop was right close—Nanny Fay’s cabin, set at the edge of what folks considered the border of Boone’s Holler. She slid her hand into the bulky side of the pack while passing between the low branches of close-growing maples. Miz West made things easy by arranging the books so’s they were in the order of her stops. Her fingers closed around the top one, which felt as thick as a stack of flapjacks, and she pulled it out. A colored picture on the cover showed two boys fishing on what must be a riverbank because a boat of some sort floated on the water. There probably wasn’t no pictures inside, though. Only skinny books had pictures on their insides.
“Don’t reckon there’s a one of ’em in that cabin who even knows their ABCs. All they want is picture books.” Glory’s snide voice rang in Bettina’s memory.
Bettina gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t never be caught looking inside the skinny books, no matter how much the pictures enticed her. She held the book chosen for Nanny Fay out in front of her and scowled at the big letters printed at the top of the cover. She knew t, a, and e because her name had those same letters in it. But the whole words? She growled under her breath. “Fat as this thing is, it’s gonna have lotsa words in it.” And she couldn’t even make sense of the two on the cover.
Mule broke through the trees into a small clearing. Nanny Fay’s cabin sat a little off center in the open spot.
A garden stretched all the way to the trees on one side, and a woodpile the size of a beaver’s dam lurked on the other. The old lady herself waited on a bench on the little porch, the same way she always did on book-delivering day. She stood and walked to the railing, carrying a book in her gnarled hands the way Bettina’d seen some mamas hold their babies during Sunday service. The same way Emmett used to hold books. He always was one for studying. So handsome, and so smart, too.
Bettina was proud of Emmett for his fine-working brain, but it kinda irked her that some old lady who’d married herself to a Tuckett could read the hundreds—no, more like thousands—of words in these fat books. Didn’t seem right that she could and Bettina couldn’t.
“Mornin’, Bettina.”
Nanny Fay talked real kindly to everybody. Bettina wanted to say “Mornin’ ” back, but she didn’t. Pap’d told Bettina a long time ago not to get friendly with the old woman. Pap said they couldn’t trust no Tucketts because they’d mingled their blood with Cherokees. Nanny Fay didn’t start out a Tuckett. She’d married one. And the one she married was way down the line. Couldn’t hardly be any Cherokee blood left in him. But it didn’t matter to Pap. Same as most folks in Boone’s Holler, he didn’t like the Tucketts, and he thought Nanny Fay was a witch. He’d told Bettina, “She’s a witch, all right. Only thing that makes sense, her bein’ older’n dirt an’ always mixin’ herbs an’ such.”
Truth be told, the woman probably wasn’t a witch. Would a witch come to services at a Baptist church? Would a witch sit on her front porch in the daylight hours? Bettina didn’t know a lot about witches, but Nanny Fay sure didn’t look nor act like a witch. But Bettina could be wrong. Pap said Bettina didn’t have the sense God gave a turkey, and turkeys were so dumb they’d stand in the rain and drown. So she kept her thinking to herself. If she spoke up, folks might stay shy of her the way they shied away from Nanny Fay and she’d be lonelier’n lonely then.
The Librarian of Boone's Hollow Page 9