Light to the Hills: A Novel (19)

Rai had seemed kind, and Harley, too, for that matter. Sass reminded Amanda of herself at that age, full of moxie. She had to laugh at Sass’s indignant confidence, standing there in the rain with her hands on her hips. Amusing, yes, but not to be underestimated, that one! She didn’t have to use her imagination to puzzle out how the girl had been labeled with her nickname.

Inside the WPA office, the others were already there, sorting through stacks of pamphlets and books. When Amanda walked in, Alice was in mid-chatter, and Thalia, her chosen audience for the day, glanced up as the door opened, perhaps hoping it would pause Alice’s nonstop tumble of words.

“Oh, Amanda!” Alice turned. Amanda caught Thalia and Esther fastening their satchels while Alice was distracted. As soon as they could manage it, they’d beat a hasty retreat and be on their way. Amanda sighed and emptied her bag onto the table. She had several that needed repair. No matter how she cautioned them to take care, her readers insisted on “thummin’” the pages or turning the edges down to mark them. With so many hands on each copy, it didn’t take long before the brittle pages tore.

“Nice to see you, Alice. How’s the route?”

“Well, I was just coming ’round to telling Thalia and Esther ’bout a scare I had on the trail two days ago. It was pert near dark, and I was getting along home after stopping by the Martins’ and Jeb Morrison’s place. You know how you gotta go in that patch of woods, there, jus’ before you come on out by where the railroad runs.”

Amanda nodded, although she had no idea. Even after months of living here, the crooked paths and roads in and out of hollers often seemed to twist in a confusing maze. She carried a rough map with her on her travels, one she embellished with her own crudely drawn landmarks and other notes to help her keep her bearings.

“I was just coming out of those woods, riding Turnip, you see, singing to myself and not thinking a thing about it, like any other day. Course, why should I? Ever’body down there knows me and Turnip. Why, you can see his black-and-white spots from a mile off, and if he thinks he might get a snack from somewheres, he’ll set up a’braying and hollering like it’s the end times.”

“And what happened?” asked Amanda. Alice and her mule Turnip were peas in a pod. They both had to be constantly reined in and hushed. Amanda worked steadily through the pile on the table. At least while Alice talked, her hands kept at her task.

“The train was just coming through right at that very moment, and it sent up a whistle so loud I near jumped out of my skin. At that exact minute, right outta the brush come these three fellers, a’grinning like they just won a jackpot.”

Amanda stopped mending the page she’d been working on. “Land sakes, Alice.”

She nodded, her eyes wide and her long red braid bobbing on her shoulder. “One of ’em grabbed at Turnip’s bridle, another’n came up behind me by my saddlebag, and the other’n stood right in front o’ me, like he didn’t aim to let me get by.” Even Thalia and Esther had paused by the door to hear more. The sisters, Celia and Rue, had stopped work long ago and sat at the end of the table, hanging on Alice’s every word.

“Well, I ain’t been borned yesterday, and if that train whistle hadn’t blasted, I would have heard ’em sooner and had my wits about me. Guess they’d jumped from that train and seen me right off. Thought they’d pick up a good mule and who knows what all.”

The women exchanged glances around the table. Of course they’d all thought about it. It was one of the things about the job Miz Dinah Linden had cautioned them all about, the long, lonely rides through the countryside, where a person might not meet another body for miles, where trains carried down-on-their-luck souls from place to place and good men bootlegged their way into territorial feuds and run-ins with the law. The mountains hid plenty of danger.

“Quick as a wink, I jerked my pistol outta my boot. That’s where I keep it, case I meet up with the wrong end of a panther or bear. Them fellers don’t know, but Turnip, he’s not real fond of getting crowded up on, on account of he used to work with the pit ponies. He stayed down there two days ’fore they figgered he weren’t nowhere near fit for that work. He’d stand in them tunnels just a’shivering and shaking—couldn’t wait to get back up to the surface. Last load he hauled, the minute they got his last car hooked on good, he took off for the top, hooves flying like he been struck by lightning. He run over two fellers on his way out, put ’em out o’ work for weeks, and busted up the cars along the way. That was that for ol’ Turnip. He likes wide-open spaces outside.”

“Alice! How did you get away?” Thalia found herself drawn back into her audience.

“Yes, what did you do?” Celia had clasped her younger sister’s hand.

“Some people look at a mule and think stubborn, but I know better.” Alice tapped a finger into her blouse. “My Turnip, he swung his rear to the left one and let go with both feet, knocked that feller clear into the underbrush, a’moaning and carrying on. That caused the other two to rush up right under Turnip’s nose. Ol’ Turnip, he was figgering he was fixing to get caught to go back down in the mines. Ain’t no men been able to touch him since them days, but he’s gentle as a lamb with me. I’m hanging on to the reins, my pistol, and my saddle horn to keep from flying off his back, and he takes a plug outta one feller’s arm, just grabs him by his shoulder like a snapping turtle and won’t let go.