The second hot day of July wore on me, and I rested more times than I dared on my route up Hogtail Mountain, each time feeling sicker and weaker. It’d been nine days since I’d started taking Doc’s medicine, and I still felt bad, still thirsted for water, especially in the mornings. It seemed like with each passing day, the medicine was making me feel worse. So much that I took to leaving all loans on the porches, avoiding my patrons. Today, I tried to get food down, but it came right back up.
Junia’s big eyes worried over my shoulder, and she nuzzled my back the second time I emptied my aching belly onto the road.
My skin felt feverish, and my throat was raw from retching.
With a pounding head, I finally reached R.C.’s fire tower.
R.C. poked his face over the rail, waved, then disappeared back inside.
I tied Junia and looked up the steep staircase. Digging into the book satchel, I pulled out R.C.’s magazine and the Fourth celebration flyer the Company store left at the Center to be passed out. I hoped R.C. didn’t have himself a fire somewhere, prayed I wouldn’t have to climb to the top today, of all days. Still, I always wanted to please the patron and leave the loan where they wanted it.
I waited a long time, but didn’t hear his footfalls on the metal stairs, or his voice calling down to me. I’d have to brave the climb. I cursed the blue drug and then my vanity as I trudged up the steps to the first landing. Overhead, I heard R.C. open the door and clomp down the stairs.
I blew a shaky breath, grabbed the railing, and waited.
When R.C. came into view above me, I covered my mouth to silence a cry.
But R.C. beat me to it. He ran toward me, leaving behind a girl who’d been trailing him. “Book Woman. Miss Bluet, what happened?” he hollered, jumping the last three steps onto the landing beside me and dropping his old loan. The steel rattled, crawled up into my feet, and echoed into my aching head, leaving me to sway a little.
He’d been in an accident, maybe worse. His face was bruised blue as the color that stained my chamber pot each morning since I’d been taking the methylene.
“Here, have a seat.” He pointed to a step. “You’re white as the fog up here after a heavy rain.”
How many times had I envied those words, white as? How desperately I’d wanted those words for my own, a prideful thing. I could stop this madness now, toss the medicine, but I craved the color more. “I am a little under the weather, R.C.”
Over his shoulder, a girl stood behind him. She was reed thin with big doe-brown eyes. There was a cut on her mouth, and one eye was swollen and bruised purple.
The boy looked worse. His nose sat crooked, and an arm hung limp and twisted to the side. A front tooth was missing, and a good part of his left ear had been clipped.
“R.C., what happened? Does it hurt—?” I asked. “You must be in a lot of pain. Here, you sit.” I scooted over.
R.C. waved away my concerns. “Hold on, ma’am. Stay seated, and I’ll get you something to help.”
“I’m fine. Please don’t trouble yourself,” I pleaded, worried he’d hurt himself more fussing after me, but he was off, racing up the steps, thundering his way back to the cabin.
The young girl stared at me, rocking on the balls of her feet. She glanced up the stairs and said quietly, “My man’s a good one. Smart. He’s gonna learn me the books too.”
Feeling ill, I could only bob my head.
“My daddy said we could live with him, but that tin room up in the sky there”—she raised her chin—“is bigger than Daddy’s whole cabin,” Ruth chattered on. “R.C. turned him down. Said he’s looking to grow our babies up here, just like his folks done with him. He’s gonna work hisself up to forestry dispatcher and then get the schoolin’ to be a forest ranger. Be the lawman of the whole forest. He’s real smart like that,” she said again, proud.
“He is. I’m sure you’ll be happy here.” I wished it.
“I sure is happy to be with my man. My brothers were real ornery, and my daddy and them whipped me a lot, but R.C. sweared he won’t whoop on me.”
R.C. came tromping down the stairs. He handed me a mug of water and shoved a generous piece of yellowroot into my hand.
I murmured thanks in between tiny sips and gnawed on the root while R.C. and Ruth watched. In a minute, the herb eased my ails. Standing, I gave my thanks again, set the cup on the rail, and pocketed the yellowroot. We swapped out his old newspaper loan for a fairly decent copy of an American Forests magazine and the flyer.
“This just came in from Lexington,” I said, pleased to give it to him.
“Oh, Miss Bluet, this magazine is surely a great one,” R.C. exclaimed. “It’s gonna be the best! Look, Ruth.” He handed her the advertisement for the Fourth celebration. “Here’s the celebration I told you about.” R.C. showed her the flyer and pulled her up beside him. “Shoot, ma’am, I plumb forgot my manners. This is Ruth. Ruth Cole, my bride. Ruth, this is Book Woman, but you can call her Bluet, though she don’t look much like a damselfly today.” He grinned.
“Hello, Ruth.” I mustered a smile.
Ruth looked down at her bare feet. “We’s met, R.C.” She dropped into a half curtsy for me. “Howdy again, ma’am.”
R.C. beamed. “Do you think you can bring her some of them female magazines and scrapbooks, ma’am? I’m gonna learn her to read.”
“I sure will.”
“Ruth, you best go back up and watch the Osborne, hot one comin’ up today. I’ll see Book Woman down.”
She gave a shy wave and said, “Hope to see you at the Independence celebration tomorrow, ma’am. R.C. done told me all about it. And the Forestry is giving my man two paid days off starting tomorrow.”
R.C. led me down the steps.
At the bottom, he said, “I never did thank you proper for bringing me the letter the last time, ma’am. Mr. Beck didn’t want to let Ruth go, and he whipped her.” He tilted his head up to the sky, squinting. “I had to fight him for her.”
I’d heard some unfavored courters did that. Had to fight for a bride. A test to join another clan.
“I’m sorry, R.C.,” I said, letting him talk it out.
“Him and his sons tore into me, busted me some.” He wrinkled his broken nose and winced, then rubbed a shoulder. “Didn’t matter none when this was already busted.” R.C. thumped his chest. “I took their whippings, and they was mean ones all right… But I got my licks in, mind you,” he added. “After, they said I’d earned her, and we drank to it.”
His smile was childlike, but a manliness settled into his face after what he’d done. “We had us a preacher over in Crooked Branch officiate it, and afterward, her family put on a right good feast.”
“Congratulations on your marriage. Be well.” I dared to lightly touch his arm.
He didn’t pull away, just scratched his head and beamed. “I’d take a dozen whuppings for that girl.”
I stared at him, awed by what lengths folks go to for love.
“Yessir, two dozen, even,” R.C. said proudly.
I couldn’t imagine finding any man that would take one for me, and for a moment I tried.
“Feel better, ma’am. And you be sure an’ nibble on that root and get yourself well. You’re mighty important to us and all. Can’t have you sick, or worse.”
Worse. The word slid over me, leaving its biting mark. That the drug could cause such fierce reactions made me suddenly wonder if it could get worse.