The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,40
money by tutoring other students in mathematics, but he’d spent most of it on train fare to get home. If he didn’t find a job soon and start earning a wage, he’d have to ask Paw for help. He hoped he wouldn’t have to stoop so low. A man with a college degree shouldn’t need to borrow money from his paw. “How much?”
“For the whole day? Two bits.”
Emmett counted out two dimes and a nickel and dropped the coins into Kermit’s grubby hand.
The man pocketed the money quick and thrust the horse’s reins at Emmett. “If you come back before noon, I’ll give ya ten cents o’ that back.”
Emmett didn’t expect to be back before noon. Maybe not even by suppertime. “That’s fine, Kermit. Do you have a saddle?”
“Sure do.”
“Is it extra?”
“Sure ain’t.” He spit into the straw at his feet. “But you gotta saddle him up your own self. Saddles an’ blankets in the tack room. Take your pick.”
Emmett chose the least mouse-chewed blanket and saddle from the smelly, windowless room in the back corner of the barn. He hadn’t saddled a horse in at least four years, but he managed it fine and couldn’t deny a sense of satisfaction at having remembered how to cinch the girth so the knot was tight and lay flat against the horse’s belly. He figured Red would appreciate his know-how, too.
He stuck his foot in a stirrup and swung himself onto the leather seat, then tugged Red’s reins. “All right, big fella, let’s go.”
Red carried Emmett from the shadowy barn into the shaded street. Emmett aimed the horse for the road, his mind running ahead to Lynch’s business district and the possible places he could find a job. The door to the Blevins’ old smokehouse was propped open with a brick, and a lantern burned behind one of the newly added windows.
An idle thought trickled through his mind. The government had hired a librarian, and she’d hired some book deliverers. Maybe she needed another person to help keep the library functioning. There was no harm in asking.
“Whoa there, Red.” The horse obediently halted. Emmett slid from the saddle and led the horse to the smokehouse. He peeked inside. The older woman Bettina had pointed out the night of the singing sat at a large table in front of the window, applying blue cloth tape to the binding of a book. “Morning, ma’am.”
She shifted her attention to him. “Good morning to you, young man. May I help you?”
Emmett looped Red’s reins around a branch on the closest bush and stepped over the threshold, removing his hat. Bettina’d been right—the place smelled like ham. “Maybe. I’m Emmett Tharp. My family lives here in Boone’s Hollow.”
She angled her head and seemed to examine him. “Are you Emil and Damaris’s older boy?”
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.”