The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,48
waggled his eyebrows.
Miss West blew out a dainty breath. “I believe it will be less dusty for us in the back.” She brushed fine bits of grit from the lap and ruffled bodice of her pink floral dress. Her chest rose and fell as if she’d recently run a race. “I don’t wish to be on that mountain road in the dark, Mr. Gilliam. Let’s hurry, shall we?”
The man shrugged and hopped over the edge of the wagon. He stomped around to Addie and grabbed her smaller case’s handle. He tossed it into the back, then with a grunt sent the larger one sailing over the edge. Addie gasped, and he grinned at her. “Stronger’n I look, ain’t I? That was no trouble at all. Want me to help you in?”
Would he give her the same treatment her suitcases had received? She moved to the rear of the wagon. “That’s kind of you, but if you’ll remove the hatch, I should be able to get in on my own.”
“You might snag your stockin’s.”
How would Mother respond to a comment like that? “Um…thank you for your concern. But as I said, I’ll be fine.”
“All righty, then. Here you go.” He lifted the hatch out of the way, and while she clumsily climbed in from the rear under Mr. Gilliam’s unwavering attention, Miss West stepped cautiously over the driver’s backless bench into the bed.
She pointed to Addie’s larger suitcase. “May I use this as a seat, Addie?”
Addie couldn’t expect the older woman to sit on the floor of the bed. She nodded. Miss West sat gingerly on the larger case, and Addie sat on the smaller one. Mother’s fine leather cases would bear scuffs and dents from this day forward, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.
Mr. Gilliam dropped the hatch into place and then heaved himself onto the seat again. He sent a grin over his shoulder. “You ladies ready?”
Miss West clamped her hand over the edge of the wagon’s high side and nodded.
The wagon jolted forward, and Addie slid several inches across her suitcase. A little yelp escaped before she could stop it. She shifted to the floor. Resting her elbow on the suitcase, she bent her legs to the side, as ladylike a position as she could manage. As Mr. Gilliam had warned, her stockings caught on the rough wood. She’d be as snagged as if she’d walked through a patch of rosebushes, but she felt more secure on the floor.
The high sides on the bed hid her view of anything except the mountaintop and sky, but she surmised they weren’t traveling on a paved roadway. The wagon bumped and rocked, squeaked and moaned. Addie was tempted to moan, too.
Instead, she forced a smile and aimed it at her new boss. “Thank you for giving me the chance to work with you. Mrs. Hunt spoke highly of you, and my parents held no apprehension about allowing me to come because of her recommendation.”
Miss West’s tense expression relaxed. “That’s kind of you to say, Addie. My cousin Carrie spoke well of you, too. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.” Her thin, graying brows tipped low. “It’s a bit unnerving making a trek to an unknown place, where everyone is a stranger.”
Addie wondered if she was talking about her own feelings or Addie’s. “Yes, but it’s exciting, too. My first foray into true independence.” She laughed lightly.
Miss West remained stoic. “When Carrie told me you’d accepted the position, I asked Brother Darnell, the minister of the Baptist church, to make inquiries about lodging for you. He’s familiar with everyone in the community, so I trusted him to know best. This morning after the service, he told me two people have expressed a willingness to board you. One is a widower whose daughter is also a packhorse librarian”—
Mr. Gilliam chortled loudly enough to be heard over the wagon’s clamor.
—“and the other is an elderly woman who lives by herself.”
Mr. Gilliam jerked his head and gaped at Miss West. “You talkin’ about Nanny Fay?”
Miss West frowned at the man, and he snapped his attention forward. “You will discover very quickly, Addie, that people in these mountain communities hold to a host of superstitions and unfounded grudges.”
Another snort burst from the wagon’s driver.
“I, personally, prefer to judge a person on his or her own merits.” Miss West raised her voice, aiming a scowl in Mr. Gilliam’s direction. “I also have a term to define superstitions as a whole.