The Librarian of Boone's Hollow

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  It didn’t surprise him a bit that she’d know about him. There was no such thing as a secret in Boone’s Hollow. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She set the tape aside, rose, and extended her hand to him. “I’m Miss Lydia West.” She drew in a breath and sighed it out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Emmett shook the woman’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  “Your mother told me all about your winning a scholarship to attend the University of Kentucky. She’s very proud of you. I confess, I’m also quite impressed.” She sighed again.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I graduated this year with a bachelor of science in commerce.”

  “Congratulations.” She returned to the chair and sat.

  “Thank you. So now I’m looking for work.”

  “Oh, my.” Her lips puckered. “I imagine that’s been challenging, given these difficult times.”

  “Yes.” He lightly bounced his hat against his thigh. “Do you need any more help here? I could take books to folks in the hills or…” He glanced around the small space. A curtain made from blankets hung on a wire and hid whatever was in the back half of the smokehouse. In the front part, short shelves lined the opposite walls, three on each side. All held a few books and tattered magazines. He pointed to the closest shelf with his hat. “I could organize books, keep records of what goes out and comes in, whatever you needed done.”

  “I wish you’d come in a week or two earlier, Mr. Tharp. If I’d known you were interested in working here, I wouldn’t have contacted my cousin in Lexington about a new rider. But the job’s already been granted to”—another sigh—“someone else. She’s due to arrive this coming weekend.”

  Emmett wanted to sigh, too. He nodded and slipped his hat onto his head. “I understand. I appreciate your time.” He started toward the door.

  “If something changes and the young lady from Lexington decides not to come, I’ll let you know.”

  Emmett smiled his thanks and left the building. He didn’t expect to hear from Miss West. Only a fool would turn down a steady job these days. He grabbed Red’s reins and pulled himself onto the saddle. “C’mon, Red, let’s get ourselves to Lynch.”

  Over the remainder of the week, Emmett gave every last penny of his tutoring money to Kermit Gilliam for the privilege of riding Red down the mountain. By Friday, he’d visited every department store, bank, grocery store, factory, and office in Lynch, Benham, and Cumberland. Everywhere he went, he received a variation of the same reply—“I’m sorry, young man, but we’re not hirin’.”

  In desperation, he even went to Tuckett’s Pass and asked the man operating a little mill if he could use an extra hand. The man glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Ain’t you from Boone’s Holler, boy?” At Emmett’s nod, he added, “Then you’d best skee-daddle.”

  Emmett returned Red to the livery early Friday afternoon. As Kermit poured oats into a bucket for Red, Emmett asked if he needed any help at the livery.

  Kermit burst out laughing. “Hooeey, boy, you ain’t gonna leave nary a stone unturned, are you?” He slapped Emmett’s shoulder, his laughter fading. “I wish I could say yes. My ol’ bones, they’re gettin’ weary o’ tendin’ these beasts, an’ I know you’d be a real good worker, comin’ from such good stock an’ all. Yessir, I’d be hard pressed to find finer folks’n your maw an’ paw. But I ain’t got money to pay nobody. Barely got money to pay for oats. I’m sorry.”

  Emmett was sorry, too, but like Paw sometimes said, sorry didn’t change anything. He left the livery and headed home, his steps slow and his heart heavy. This evening his family planned to attend the Boone’s Hollow and Tuckett’s Pass mountain school graduation ceremony. Everybody in town went to school events, whether programs or baseball games or spelling bees or graduations. Maw would expect him to go with her, Paw, and Dusty, but he hoped he’d be able to talk his way out of it. He’d had a long visit with Mr. Halcomb after supper at his folks’ place Wednesday evening, so he didn’t feel the need to see his old teacher. After his frustrating, fruitless days of job searching, he needed some time alone. To think. To plan. And, as Maw would encourage, to pray.

  Emmett passed the Barrs’ shack. Mrs. Barr was in the yard hacking at weeds with a hoe while a runny-nosed toddler wearing a shirt but no pants hung on her skirt. Emmett waved hello, the polite thing to do, and the woman bobbed her head in reply. The sorrowful, resigned look aging the woman’s face pained Emmett in ways he couldn’t understand, and he hurried to the rise leading to his folks’ cabin.

  The cabin door stood open in silent invitation, and Emmett stepped in. To his surprise, Paw sat at the kitchen table with his work boot propped on his knee and a can of polish open in front of him.

  Emmett glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel, then turned to Paw. “How come you’re home so early?” He could remember only two times that Paw came home midday, and both times somebody’d gotten hurt in the mine. “Was there an accident?”

  Paw dipped the rag in the polish and rubbed it on the toe of his boot. “Nothin’ like that. Boss let any of us from Boone’s Holler or Tuckett’s Pass off early today since it’s graduatin’ day for the youngsters.”

  Relief sagged Emmett’s bones.

  “Three of ’em gettin’ diplomas this year. All girls, two of ’em from Boone’s Holler.”

  He dropped into the chair across from Paw. Strange how Paw’s voice didn’t take on a hard edge when speaking of other folks’ children earning diplomas. He saved his disdain for his own son. Emmett pushed the wry thought aside. “It’s nice they let you go.”

  Paw shrugged. “Started it last year. The big boss figures it’s good for…” He scrunched his face. “Forget what they call it.”

  “Morale?”

  “Yeah. Morale.” Paw snorted. “Whatever that is.”

  Emmett could define the word but decided not to. “Where’s Maw?”

  “Went to Belcher’s. She’s wantin’ to bake an almond cream cake for the after-graduation party, an’ she was out o’ almond flavorin’. Hope Belcher’s has what she’s needin’. There ain’t time to get all the way to the company store in Lynch, an’ she’s sure got me hankerin’ for a slice o’ her cake.”

  Emmett watched his father shine up his old work boot. He couldn’t help staring at the coal dust ground under Paw’s fingernails and lining his cuticles. No matter how much he scrubbed, the black never came completely off. But Paw wasn’t bothered by dirty hands. He said working in the coal mine let him care for his family. There was no shame in honest work.

  “Paw?”

  Paw didn’t look up. “Huh?”

  “Would you teach me everything you know about coal mining?”

  Paw’s fingers stilled. He kept his head low but lifted his eyes. “Why?”

  “I need to know. When I talked to an administrator about working in the mine, he said they didn’t have time to train me. I figure if you teach me, they’ll be able to take me on.”

  Slowly Paw’s head raised, and he looked Emmett square in the face. “You wanna be a miner?”

  He didn’t, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He’d run out of options. “It’s honest work. It’s been a good job for you.”

  Paw stared at Emmett for several seconds, expression blank. Then a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s been good for us. We ain’t never gone hungry or without clothes on our backs. It’d sure please your maw to have you stickin’ around close to home instead o’ settlin’ in a big city somewhere.”

  “So, you’ll help me?”

  Paw dropped the stained rag on the table and placed his hand over Emmett’s. “I’ll teach you everything I know.” He patted Emmett’s hand, then returned to polishing.

  Emmett looked at his hand. Folks always said he looked more like Maw with his straw-colored hair and blue eyes, that he was tall and broad shoul
dered like her father and grandfather. They called him more a McCallister than a Tharp, unlike Dusty, whose dark hair, dark eyes, and wiry build branded him a Tharp. Emmett had always wondered if his looks added to the distance between him and Paw. But the polish from Paw’s fingers had left smears on his fingers. Black smears. The color of coal.

  Finally, there was something about him that resembled his father.

  Lexington

  Addie

  MRS. HUNT PLACED the pay envelope in Addie’s palm, then sandwiched Addie’s hand between hers. “Here you are, my dear. Pay for a job well done.”

  Addie swallowed an unexpected knot of emotion. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ve enjoyed working here. I…” She swallowed again. “I’m going to miss all of you.”

  “And we will miss you.” Mrs. Hunt squeezed Addie’s hand and then stepped back. “I trust you’ll drop Miss Collins or me a line now and then to let us know how you’re doing. We will want to know all about Boone’s Hollow.”

  “I will.” Addie slipped the envelope into her purse.

  The library director folded her arms over her chest. “When do you leave?”

  “I leave for Boone’s Hollow on Sunday afternoon, but I’m taking a train to Georgetown tomorrow morning. I want to see my folks before I go.”

  “And I’m sure they want to see you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Addie was already dreading the coming goodbye, but at the same time, she eagerly anticipated starting the job that would allow her to help her parents.

  Mrs. Hunt leaned forward and wrapped Addie in a quick hug. “You take good care of yourself, Miss Adelaide Cowherd. I suspect you’re going to be a real blessing to the people of Boone’s Hollow.”

  Addie blinked rapidly and hurried from the room. She hadn’t realized how fond she’d become of Mrs. Hunt and the other employees at the library until it was time to bid them farewell. She would miss them as much as she missed Felicity.

  She stopped at the front desk and told Griselda Ann in a whisper that she planned to cash her check at the bank and then go to the house. “I’ll make supper tonight as a thank-you for hosting me.”

  Griselda Ann shook her head so adamantly her short brown curls bounced. “No, I will make supper. Tuna-and-noodle casserole with potato chips on top. And sugar dumplings for dessert.”

  Addie’s mouth watered. “You don’t need to go to so much trouble.”

  “I owe you more than just a special supper for all the help you’ve given with the quilts for the downtrodden.”

  Addie absently rubbed the callous on the inside of her thumb. “Cutting out fabric wasn’t so much. You did more for me than I did for you.”

  “We don’t have time to argue.” Griselda Ann scurried from behind the desk and gave Addie a little push toward the door. “The bank will close before you get there. Now go. I’ll see you later.”

  Addie obeyed, mostly because she didn’t want to miss getting her check cashed. She followed Mill Street to downtown Lexington and reached the bank with a half hour to spare. She tucked the bills and coins into a secret pocket of her purse, then set off for Griselda Ann’s at a leisurely pace. While she walked, she admired the storefronts and peeked into windows.

  Mrs. Hunt had said Boone’s Hollow was a small town. Would it have a sweets shop or a drugstore with a soda fountain? Perhaps a little café where she could get together in the evenings with the friends she was sure to make? A dress shop, even if it had only a few offerings, would make a fine meeting place as well. She and Felicity had spent many cheerful hours browsing the racks at Appel’s department store and trying on hats and scarves and gloves until the salesladies’ disapproving frowns sent them out to the sidewalk, where they broke into bouts of giggles.

  At least she knew for sure Boone’s Hollow had a library, albeit a small one. She mustn’t get her hopes up that it would be as large as Lexington’s Carnegie Library or even have as many books as she’d found in the stately brick building that served as the Scott County Library in Georgetown. But a town with a library was a good town. She’d be happy there. In time, she’d feel right at home.

  Georgetown

  Addie

  ADDIE STEPPED FROM THE TRAIN car onto the wooden boardwalk and scuttled away from the other disembarking passengers, who blocked her view. The midmorning sun, beaming from a cloudless sky, almost blinded her after her being in the enclosed car. She cupped her hand above her eyes and searched the length of the wooden walkway, heart thrumming in eagerness.

  “Addie! Addie, honey!”

  She spun in the direction of the call, and a little gasp of joy left her throat. She was a mature young lady of twenty-one wearing a dress and heels instead of a seven-year-old in a romper with sturdy Mary Janes on her feet, but she broke into a run toward the couple waiting beneath the depot’s overhang. Daddy moved forward a step, and she threw herself into his arms with the same enthusiasm she had when she was a child and he’d returned home from a day at the bank. His arms closed around her, and she breathed in his familiar scents—peppermint, cherry tobacco, and bay rum. The scents that represented security.

  He kissed her cheek and delivered her to Mother’s embrace. Mother didn’t hug as tightly as Daddy, but she rocked Addie gently side to side, her warm, soft cheek pressed to Addie’s. While Mother hugged her, Daddy rubbed her back and said, “Welcome home, sugar dumplin’.”

  Addie laughed and pulled loose. “Funny you should call me that. The lady who boarded me this past week fixed sugar dumplings for supper last night. But she used raisins instead of pecans and store-bought syrup, so they weren’t as good as yours, Mother.”

  Mother laughed and cupped Addie’s face in her hands. “Honey, if I had my own kitchen, I’d fix you a pan of your favorite treat.” She kissed Addie’s forehead and released her. “I can’t make them for you this visit, but you wait. When we’re in a house again, I’ll bake so many sugar dumplin’s you’ll make yourself sick eating them.”

  How could her independent, self-sufficient parents bear to live in a single room under someone else’s roof, eating someone else’s cooking? Linking elbows with them, Addie secretly vowed to save every penny possible and send it to her parents. They walked to the baggage dock, where Addie’s suitcases waited at the edge. Temptation struck hard to pop the larger one open and show Mother what Griselda Ann had given her yesterday after supper, but the many people milling around didn’t need to receive a glimpse of her personal belongings. She’d have to wait until they reached the boardinghouse.

  Daddy grabbed the handle on the big suitcase, and Addie took the small one. Mother pointed to a black coupe with a leather bonnet parked nearby. “Preacher Finley loaned us his Plymouth.”

  Addie had expected to walk to the boardinghouse. Riding in Preacher Finley’s coupe, even though it was much smaller than Daddy’s Model A, would be a treat compared to carrying her suitcases so far. Daddy loaded her cases in the rumble seat, and then they climbed into the cab, with Addie in the center. Three abreast was crowded now that Addie was all grown up, but she loved sitting between Mother and Daddy, as she’d done on so many Sunday afternoon drives through the country in Daddy’s now-sold Model A.

  A lump filled her throat. So many experiences, so dear in heart, would forever reside only in memory unless their financial position drastically changed. She sent up a quick, silent prayer of thanks for her job waiting in Boone’s Hollow. Twenty-nine dollars…If she paid ten for boarding and five each month to the college, she could send the remaining fourteen dollars to Mother and Daddy. By Christmastime, would they have enough saved up to be able to rent a little home? If Daddy found a job, too, they might be able to leave the awful boardinghouse even sooner. Her heart fluttered with hope.

  Daddy turned off Depot Street onto Douglas Avenue. The tune of rubber tires on brick pavement carried through the open windows. Mother placed her hand on Addie’s knee. “Preacher F
inley and his wife have opened their home to you for tonight, since there isn’t a place for you to sleep at the boardinghouse. They’ve been so kind to us in this time of trial.”

  “A true blessing.” Addie grinned at Mother, repeating the phrase she’d heard so often from her mother’s lips.

  Mother squeezed Addie’s knee, then linked her hands in her lap. “Indeed, it is. Mrs. Finley will take you to the train station in the morning, before church service.”

  The vehicle picked up speed, and the breeze streaming through the open side windows tossed Addie’s hair over her eyes. She captured the long strands and drew them over her left shoulder, then clamped the thick tail to her collarbone with her fist. “But I wanted to attend service with you before I leave. Isn’t there an afternoon train I could take instead?”

  Mother tsk-tsked. “Your daddy checked. There are four stops between Georgetown and Lynch.”

  “Lexington, Mount Vernon, Pittsburg, and Cumberland.” His hands on the steering wheel, Daddy raised a finger for each location. He sent a sideways glance at her, then faced the street again. “As it is, leaving here at nine in the morning won’t get you to Lynch until late afternoon. And then you still have to travel to Boone’s Hollow.”

  Addie folded her arms and bit her lip.

  Daddy nudged her with his elbow—a silent message she’d received in childhood when her behavior displeased him. She automatically mimicked Mother’s pose, hands in her lap.

  Daddy bumped her again, but this was a friendly bump. “Who is picking you up from the depot in Lynch?”

  Addie addressed Daddy’s profile. “Mrs. Hunt’s cousin Miss West—the one who directs the library in Boone’s Hollow—made arrangements for someone named Kermit Gilliam to meet me with a wagon.”

  “Not a car?”

  Addie turned at Mother’s question. “No, she said a wagon.”

  “The roads in the mountains are steep.” Daddy drew Addie’s attention again. “Most people up in the mountain communities still use horses and wagons instead of motor vehicles.”