With every mile, my courage dwindled and the doubts loomed larger. Finally, I stopped in the moss-blanketed forest to see if I was being followed, the swirls of fog ghosting up into the slices of morning light, our shadows growing longer on frosted pine-needled paths. My despair settled deep with each step, separating me from them. I placed a hand over my heaving chest, the panic like a tempest inside, escaping through cold breaths.
I rode another mile before Junia slowed down. Every few minutes the mule would look back yonder to home, to Mama. I couldn’t help but look back longingly, too, hoping they would return today, praying the court would release them.
“Ghee up, Junia. C’mon, ol girl, ghee up!” Junia poked along despite my pleas and loud urgings. Dropping my whole weight into the saddle, I kicked my heels against her sides.
She swung her head and sassed back with a spray of garbled brays.
A light dimmed in me; the despair and helplessness had set in. “I miss them, too, but at this rate we won’t be there till dark.” I slid off, stuffed my gloves into my pocket, and grabbed the reins, tugging the beast along. “We’ve only gone about six miles, but we have at least twenty-five more ahead,” I told her as we walked the forest paths, stepping carefully over and around logs, on the lookout for critters.
The sun finally broke through the fog, the push of an early spring calling out to the hills. We rested by a brook for an hour as I tried to take my mind off my parents by soaking it all up. Patches of tender green shoots, blossomed coughwort, and showy toadshade sprang up from the earth. Moss and rotted wood perfumed the air. Mama had insisted on teaching me about nature, made me pay close attention and treasure it all, most especially during the coming of spring. It was a necessity, a means of survival for all Kentucky folk, but especially for us Blues, she’d said.
I pulled out Mama’s pocket watch from underneath my coat. The silver timepiece twirled on a leather string, catching a glint of sunlight that escaped through the fogged, tree-forested crown. It had been her great-grandpa’s in France, and she’d passed it to me last July when I turned sixteen. I pushed down on the pumpkin crown and released the latch. The tiny, glass-bubbled case opened, the porcelain face showing it was 9:12 a.m. I snapped the timepiece shut and tried to ride Junia again.
Five hours later, I rode alongside Troublesome Creek, the steady clip-clops of Junia’s hooves murmuring as we crossed trickling creek waters and rode up into pine-treed mountains. We passed a woman and child walking the path. She toted a basket brimming with roots and other herbs. A moment later, a white turkey skittered across, its stream of loud gurgles trailing behind.
A man carrying a fishing pole called out a friendly greeting. “Honey Lovett, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen the Book Woman and her daughter.”
“Sir, good day.” I nodded as we passed one of Mama’s old patrons.
In a few more minutes, Junia halted and brayed out warnings, then calmed. Tightening the reins, I looked between her tall ears and saw the ol’ moonshiner, Devil John, and his horse. I couldn’t make out the other person riding alongside him.
“Devil John, sir, it’s me, Honey,” I called out, relieved to see the family friend after all this time. I nudged Junia over to the moonshiner and a woman riding a fine horse, sneaking peeks at the stranger.
“Honey,” Devil John greeted me, tipping the black floppy hat with his calling card, a raccoon dick fastened to its front, his invitation to let folk know he was selling the shine—though it was known he didn’t partake of the spirits himself.
“Didn’t expect to see you or Cussy here till at least May. I was fixin’ to journey over to Thousandsticks to drop off some hardware supplies for your pa and visit your family in a few days.” He rubbed his long, gray beard, studying me.
We always looked forward to seeing Devil John. Several times during the year, me and Mama came back over to Troublesome to stay a couple of weeks during the fall and for almost two months in the summer. We would weed the Carter cemetery, visit her patrons, and then tend to the small grave site of my family, the Moffits. We’d spend a lot of time with Retta and some of Mama’s other folk who’d been on her book route while Papa busied himself traveling to Tennessee on timber business.
I never understood why we hadn’t moved out of the state—why Mama chose to stay in Kentucky. There’d been talk of moving to Tennessee or north to Ohio, but the notion got tamped down just as quick as it arose. Mama’d said she hoped to continue her important library work in Kentucky one day, and she couldn’t bear to let her family’s cabin go to rot and the Carter and Moffit cemetery go to seed. Troublesome was her home, her kin and ancestors’ home, she insisted. And like Papa had remarked from time to time, sometimes with a wistful sigh: This ol’ ’Tucky land sure makes a man yearn for it and want to flee it altogether. And you can sure ’nough have yourself one foot on foreign soil, but the other is always pointed home.
But today Kentucky had become our prison. And for the first time, I felt its shackles and choking ropes on me and my family. I looked away, thinking about my parents’ brutal beatings this morning, trying not to let the sorrow reach my eyes.
“Everything okay over in Thousandsticks?” Devil John looked over my shoulder, expecting to see Mama.
“Mama’s not with me today, sir.” I glanced over at the woman who was studying a map of sorts. “She sent me back to visit Retta, while she, uh, takes care of things back home.” My voice strained a bit and Devil John raised a brow. I couldn’t tell him family business in front of a stranger, even though he was close friends with my parents and we never hid anything from him.
He turned to the woman beside him. “Miss Grant, this is Honey Lovett, the daughter of our decorated book woman, Cussy Carter Lovett. Cussy worked for our Pack Horse Library Project here and delivered books to us.”
The woman looked up from the paper with sketching on it. “We had the same project over in Somerset, my hometown. Hi, call me Pearl, and I’m pleased to meet you, Honey.” She smiled easily and lifted a hand, jangling her silver bracelet full of charms. “I love a good book and I’m going to need a lot where I’m going.”
“Troublesome has itself a fine borrowing branch now,” I told her quietly, liking her already because she loved the books.
Pearl didn’t look much older than me, but her eyes said different. They were playful and spirited, yet held an edge of something troubling, maybe even a hint of sadness. I admired her hair, a stylish, short haircut full of soft curls like the Italian movie star I’d seen in some of the magazines Papa brought home from his Tennessee trips. Her riding britches had a lot more life to them than mine, and her tall, leather boots were stitched with fancy embroidery to match her gloves. I glanced down at Mama’s old hand-me-downs, the three-dollar, leather-bitten boots, and pressed them closer to Junia wishing her fur would swallow them. Still, the young woman seemed friendly.
“Pearl’s our new fire-tower watcher,” Devil John said. “She got lost back on the path when I happened upon her. Thought I’d show her to the lookout.”
Pearl shrugged sheepishly and held up a curling map. “Pie got us turned around about four miles back after we crossed the creek and my directions got wet.” She petted the handsome piebald’s spotted white and red neck, stroked his long strawberry mane.
Admiration and respect surged through me. It could be a dangerous job manning the fire tower, and all alone at that. I wanted to find out more about her.
“You say you’re headed to Miss Loretta’s?” Devil John asked.
“Yes, sir, on my way to Retta’s right now.”
“I still have to make a stop back in town. Since you’ll be passing the fire tower, would you mind showing Pearl the rest of the way?”
“Happy to take Pearl for you, sir.”
“Much obliged, Honey.” He turned to Pearl. “You’re in good hands. I’ll bring up that trunk you mentioned earlier, once it arrives in the morning.”
We journeyed through the woods while Pearl chatted about her job, distracting me from my thoughts of home.
“The ranger said I’ll have every Sunday off and at least one weekend off a month. Where do folks go for fun?” she asked.
“When R.C. was the lookout, he used to take his fiancée to the picture show over in the next town. There’s a train depot about four miles from the tower that’ll tote you there.”
“We have us a fine movie house in Somerset. It’s called the Virginia Cinema and I loved going. Last month, Mother took me to see Singin’ in the Rain with Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds. Oh, but it was grand!”
“I read about it in the newspaper. Mama promised to take me if it’s still playing.” I quieted and snapped the reins, urging Junia onward. I knew the chances of seeing the musical were slim now.
At the foot of Hogtail Mountain, I stopped and climbed off Junia, motioning for Pearl to do the same. “It’s narrow ahead. We’ll have to walk most of the way from here.”
“It doesn’t look much wider than a bicycle path.” Pearl laughed.
“Some spots are easier than others. Mama used to bring me up here all the time to see R.C. and Ruth. We were real tickled to learn about his promotion.”
“Last week, my uncle brought my horse over to R.C. so he could be here when I arrived. I met R.C. at the ranger station this morning when I picked up Pie and the maps. Met him and another ranger named Robbie Hardin.” She frowned at the mention of Hardin.
“Sure is something, you being appointed a female fire-tower lookout, and so young.” I stopped to study her a bit closer. Pearl must’ve sensed my curiosity.
“I just turned nineteen. Graduated high school last year and spent the summer working part time over at the Big Knob lookout in Pulaski County. As soon as my boss told me there was an opening here for full-time work, I applied. How about you?”
“I’m from here and I’ve always wanted to be a book woman like my mama.”
“You can’t be more than fifteen. You have plenty of time to get your librarianship.”
I looked away, thinking about the House of Reform and agonizing over whether to fib to this new acquaintance. It didn’t feel right, but neither did the whole day. “Eighteen,” I lied, worrying that I might have to keep lying to strangers if my parents never came back for me.
Pearl stared down at my coloring hands. “Are you okay?”
I realized I’d forgotten to put back on my gloves after checking my timepiece. “Fine, it’s nothing but a disorder that flares up once in a while. It’s been a long day already.” Quickly, I turned away and led Junia along the mountain path. “Watch your step,” I called back to remind Pearl, digging into my pocket for the gloves.
“What’s Somerset like? I’ve never been,” I asked while we walked.
“Small town. Nice enough. We live near Lake Cumberland and spend a lot of time boating and fishing on the lake.”
“Sounds nice. I’ve seen pictures in the local magazines, and it’s sure a pretty lake.”
“Yeah, but nothing like these beautiful knobs you have. I can’t wait to explore it all.”
“Spring is always special. I’m in town for a while and can show you around one day.” It wouldn’t be long till warmer winds were here. Soon the forest would cast aside its sleeping blanket and perfume the air with its riches. We traveled up the twisty, mud-packed paths, the scents of fresh earth rising with each step taken.
“Already graduate high school?” she inquired as we rounded another switchback.
“Never been.” I was glad she was behind me so I couldn’t see her face.
“Never? However did you manage that?” she asked with a big question in her voice.
“A lot of kids can’t attend. Some are taught at home and others just drop out or don’t go because they aren’t close enough, or don’t want to live at the Hindman Settlement or Caney Creek Schools. And a lot of folk don’t want their children taught by the fotched-on women either, yet others say they are some of the best teachers in the world. Mama said the fotched-on women make these ol’ hills a better place. But she insisted on teaching me from home and believes she gave me an education better than a lot of book-read folk.”
“What’s ‘fotched-on women’?”
“Well-to-do outsiders they fetched into our hills to teach in the settlement schools.”
Junia suddenly stopped, pinned back her ears, and brayed into the tree-soaked hills. A thin, piercing scream vibrated up, and I spied a startled bird limping toward the side of the path, dragging its wing.
“What is it?” Pearl leaned over my shoulder. “What the devil is wrong with that ailing creature?”
“That mama bird”—I poked a finger toward the thrashing critter shrilling on the grassy bank nearby—“ain’t ailing. The killdeer’s trying to draw us away from the nest she’s built on the path.”
Pearl whistled. “Just when I thought I’d seen it all in my last job. There’s so much I’ve yet to learn.”
“You will, and the critters will teach you something new each day.”
Together we peered up the rocky path and spotted an indention with three black-speckled eggs tucked inside.
Dropping Junia’s rein, I sprinted up to the nest and stepped around it. “C’mon, Junia, there’s room to pass.” I walked back to the mule and then up to the nest, sidestepping around it again. “Ghee up,” I ordered. But the ol’ girl weren’t having none of it. Instead she bellowed in singsong with the shrieking killdeer, causing so much racket I had to cover my ears.
Finally, I grabbed Pearl’s horse, leading it around Junia. The horse backed up, pawed at the hard earth, and I lost my footing, nearly falling off the mountain. Junia screamed out haws and snorted loudly, biting and nipping at the poor mount’s hide. The mule was determined to be in charge of this trip, and she wasn’t about to let Pearl’s horse take the lead.
“Pie, whoa, whoa,” Pearl ordered.
“Junia,” I cried out. “Whoa! Stop or you’re going to throw us off the mountain.” Junia took another nip of Pearl’s mount as we passed. Pie reared and bumped against me. Stumbling, I fell and busted my chin as he dragged me past Junia, leaving my face scuffed, lit afire by rock and clay, my legs dangling over the mountain. I gulped down scents of wet pine and rotted leaves, while I fought to scrape the air and lift myself to solid footing.
Again, Junia sent a thundering warning to the horse, the echoes lost to a still-sleeping forest.
“Honey, don’t move,” Pearl called out. She wedged past Junia, giving a firm tug to her halter. “Halt,” she scolded and lightly bopped the mule’s nose.
Junia snorted, then quieted.
Pearl rushed over to me. “Honey, let me get Junia so you can grab her lead.”
Sweat trickled from my brow, stinging my eyes. Again, I thrashed, struggled to find footing, digging my boots into the rocky mountainside, clawing at grass, rock, and debris, the smell of fear rising off my chest. Finally, I dared to peek over my shoulder and looked several thousand feet down into nothing but brush and craggy rock.
Quickly, I buried my face into the hard ground, my breaths coming fast and short. Junia ambled over, sniffed my hair, and I let go of one hand and blindly groped for her rein. Slipping down a little farther, I scratched the earth and rock with my boots and felt one loosen, a scream collapsing in my chest. The mule nudged my back, and I latched onto her rein, holding on for dear life.
“Back, back,” Pearl said gently to the mule.
Junia moved slow.
Pearl grabbed my other arm, and together she and the mule slowly dragged me back onto the path. I crooked my neck and looked back, twisting my legs. Then one of my boots fell off and went tumbling over the steep, rugged cliff, bouncing off razor-sharp rocks and prickly limbs, until it was swallowed up by the mountain.
I panted, looking up at Pearl from the ground, a little embarrassed, wanting to cry but trying desperately to be brave in front of the courageous woman.
“Obliged, Pearl.” I grabbed her outstretched hand. “If you weren’t here, I would’ve been falling till next season.” Standing somewhat shaky, I touched my hurting chin and sighed as I brushed the dirt off my coat and britches. One button was missing from Mama’s coat. I looked around the mud-leaf path and found the old leather button and slipped it into my pocket. “Junia, we’re going to have to find my boot before we go home.”
Junia snorted and moseyed past the nest and a screaming mama killdeer.
Pearl chuckled. “Does she always win?”
“It’s wise to let her,” I said. Then we both fell into fits of laughter, my worries masked behind a flood of snorts, giggles, and guffaws, the tearful laughter hiding the sorrows of the morning.
After a bit, Pearl said, “Are you sure you’re okay? I can go on from here and let you get home to clean up and rest.”
I gulped down the last of my hilarity, wiping my eyes. It felt good to finally have a taste of laughter and even better to share it with someone.
“Go on, Honey, I bet you’re tired. I can manage.”
Between the horrors of this morning and the long ride to Troublesome, rest was just what I needed, and for a moment, I was tempted to accept.
Junia sidled up to me, sniffed my face, then laid her big head over my shoulder, keeping a mistrustful eye on Pearl and her mount. “I’ll be fine as long as Junia behaves.”
Pearl admired her a moment while I stripped off the other boot and stuffed it inside my pannier. “Junia, huh?” She scratched the mule’s floppy ear. “Wherever did she get the name, Honey?”
“It’s Biblical. Mama said it’s just a word or two, but from a part of the Bible that says maybe there was a female apostle.” I stroked Junia’s gray muzzle. “C’mon, apostle girl, let’s get to the tower and then go find my other boot.”
Pearl reached around in her bags and after a moment dug out a pair of red velvet house slippers. “Here, you can wear these until you find your boot.”
“I can’t. They’d get ruined.”
“I have another pair and won’t be needing them. Mother insisted on trying to pack two of everything.” She laughed, her eyes bright and cheery.
Grateful, I wrestled the slippers on over my thick socks. Snug, but at least they would keep my feet warm.
Testing, I took a few steps and frowned, feeling the mud sucking at the fine slippers. I dared to look down.
Pearl soothed a skittish Pie, pretending not to notice.
We took several more switchbacks leading up to the lookout with me leading the way, hugging the cragged rock face, Junia slow-poking behind me and Pearl, and Pie bringing up the rear.
Every few feet, Junia would stop and gaze out into the distance as if searching for Mama. My eyes would follow, too, hoping it was all a mistake and that Mama would come riding over the next ridge to take us home.
At the top, Pearl gasped. “Home, finally!” She spotted the large shed for her horse and the outhouse beside it, pointing, soaking it all up. Hay and horse feed had been toted up and were stacked under a partially covered lean-to.
Pearl looked out at the forest, inhaling the fresh air. White skies crowned the brown tops of the forest below. Faraway, I could see a curtain of mist slumbering over the darkened hills, heading our way. It looked like snow, and I inhaled, tasting the breaths of its crisp promise. Nearby, a crow cried out into a distant bird’s chattering, and below, a forest critter’s thin wailing carried into the breeze.
“Eight landings and one-hundred-thirty-three steps to the trapdoor,” I told Pearl as we tied our mounts at the bottom. “Used to be only eighty-four steps, but they had a fire in the cab that destroyed it. They decided to rebuild and raise the cab higher.”
Pearl cupped her hand over her eyes and stared up at her new wooden home atop the winding steel stairs with its metal catwalk encircling it. “It’s perfect,” she said.
I couldn’t help but wonder why a woman would want to take on the dangerous job, much less want to live here alone.
As if hearing my thoughts, she said, “I was born to do this job. To be able to live as close as you can get to your Maker, in His mighty nature. Ever heard of Hallie Daggett, Honey?”
I shook my head.
“I read about her work years ago. She became the first female fire lookout of the Forest Service in 1913. Spent fifteen years on the job working at the Eddy Gulch fire tower in the Klamath National Forest. That’s way up at the top of California. And I want to be just like her, only spend my next thirty being a lookout.” She laughed.
“That’s something.” I stared at her a moment, even more impressed that she knew what she wanted for herself and was determined to get it.
“Seven men put in for this appointment, but R.C. said I was capable as any of them because I had manned the fire tower back home. Also, I passed the eyesight test with flying colors. Two of the men had poor eyesight and only one had the formal classroom training for becoming a fire lookout like I’d had. R.C. said none of the applicants had formally studied topography like me. The Forestry made me spend an eight-hour grueling day hiking the forest, and another hour running up and down the fire-tower steps with the men. There were only three of us left.”
I was flabbergasted that she had won the appointment over so many men and overwhelmed with admiration. Somehow, I felt close to her, and a kinship I’d never known before took hold. If Pearl could do all that, maybe I could survive on my own too.
“The men didn’t like it much and grumbled to the bosses,” she said. “Some said it wasn’t fair for a female to steal a man’s rightful paycheck. But some of those old boys didn’t know how to even locate a fire, much less tell the difference between a sleeping one or sheep dust or a fog puff.” Pearl laughed.
“I’m glad you got it,” I said, meaning it.
She sighed happily. “Home.”
“C’mon, I’ll help you carry the bags up before I head out to Retta’s place.”
“Thanks. Is Retta family?”
I couldn’t tell this brave girl that she was my babysitter. Instead, I said, “Loretta Adams is a close friend of my family.”
Pearl dug into her pocket and pulled out two small keys on a chain and jangled them, smiling. “R.C. gave me the padlock keys this morning. I can’t wait to see my cab! I’d like to have you over once I settle in.”
“I’d like that,” I said, needing a friend more than ever. And with one as smart as her, I could learn a lot by being her friend.
I took one of her panniers and we trudged up the old metal steps, the tower slightly swaying, the stairs rumbling protests as we climbed toward the top. We stopped a moment and Pearl searched the mountain-layered horizon. I pointed out the snow curtain, sheets of white heading toward Troublesome.
When we reached the last landing where the metal platform under the cab led up to the trapdoor, Pearl whisked out a cry.
I peered over her shoulder. Someone had taken a hacksaw to four of the metal steps and cut them off, making it impossible to reach the trapdoor that led up inside the cab.
She cried out once more and pointed to the trapdoor and the half-broke padlock on the outside latch.
I stared at the ugly words scrawled across the door in red paint. PUT BACK ON YOUR APRON & GO BACK TO YOUR KITCHEN—BITCH
I gasped and uttered a curse, an anger rising for the horrible man who did this.
Pearl grimaced and put a clenched fist to her hip. “I bet it was Robbie Hardin. At the station this morning, he tried to coax R.C. into betting how long I’d stay. Wondering aloud how fast I’d hightail it down the mountain and back over to my cozy kitchen in Somerset when the first storm came in, or when I faced my first wild creature.”
“The Hardins always had a mean streak in them,” I said, remembering the whispered talks between my folks about how Mama’s librarian supervisor, Harriett Hardin, had been responsible for getting my papa jailed and then banished from Kentucky.
“Well, I’m not going back to any kitchen,” she spat out. “I’m here to stay. Stay.”
I put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Stay, dammit!” She raised the words to the forest, pounding a fist atop the steel railing, sending out her battle cry, and in it, I heard the screams of my mama, felt the pain she and Papa had suffered earlier.
And then whether it was because she was overwhelmed or exhausted from the trip, or maybe both, she cried and howled her curses to the heavens.
I stared down at my mud-soaked slippered feet, wringing my hands, wanting to help and be a friend to her, needing to curse and wail my own sufferings. Finally, I said shyly, “If you want, Pearl, you can stay at my grandparents’ cabin until the ranger station can weld back new steps. There’s plenty of room and I can help settle you in. Retta won’t mind me coming tomorrow. It’ll be fine,” I said, though I knew from my folk, nothing was ever completely fine in Troublesome.
“That’s real neighborly, Honey, and unless there’s a motel, I’ll have to take you up on it.” She swiped a palm across her damp eyes.
“No motel here unless you want to rent a room above the Company store… That’s if there’s any vacant.”
“Thank you, your family’s cabin will do just fine.”
Below, Junia called out a low haw. I peered over the railing, studying the beast. She lifted her muzzle and gave three short bursts. Her ears were parked stiff, not relaxed, her stance shifting and worrisome.
Mama taught me long ago: Look at the beast, the bird, the wild dog, the critters, and listen closely because God spent all their might on the ears so they would have protection. And that safeguard is what ensures ours.
I searched the forest below, looking for any movement or sign of something amiss. I couldn’t help feel that someone was watching back. Again, Junia raised warnings, and I glimpsed how her always-distrustful eyes were now watchful for our protection.
Glancing up at the trapdoor, I knotted a fist, disgusted with the cowardly welcome Pearl had received from the men. Again, Mama’s piercing screams echoed in my head, and I felt an angry tear slip down my jaw and vowed somehow to fight like this brave fire lookout.
“Let’s go, Pearl. I still need to find my boot, and it’s coming on bad weather and dark soon.”