The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,61

Miss West referred to the people as backward, she’d been right. “Is everyone here so closed minded?”

Miss West tsk-tsked. “As a general rule, the people here are resistant to outsiders and staunchly attached to the superstitious beliefs passed down from previous generations. But there are exceptions to the rule, too. The Baptist preacher and his wife, although both grew up on the mountain, don’t hold with the prejudicial attitudes. Nor do a handful of local residents, although they’re less likely to speak up against them since they live here and desire to keep peace with their neighbors.” She sighed. “Education is key to changing the old mindsets and opening the people here to rational discourse. Which is why I believe so strongly in this program.” She paused and stared at Addie for several seconds. “Addie, may I be blunt?”

Given the woman’s serious bearing, Addie was half-afraid to assent, but curiosity rose above concern. “Yes, ma’am.”

“The other girls who take books to the hills families do it because it’s a job. It’s a means of earning an honest wage, something that’s never been easy to come by for young women in this area. But I see the delivery of these books as something deeper, more important than a mere job. A book takes one into another person’s thoughts and emotions. Books open up worlds beyond the view from one’s own window. Stories can stir compassion, can inspire integrity, can show different lifestyles and problem-solving skills. Books, Addie, have the power to change people for the better.”

Her breathing became heavy and labored, her cheeks mottled with pink, but she continued with fervency. “If we can inspire the hills people to read, we have the opportunity to eliminate the long-held, fear-based superstitions that keep them mired in petty feuds and foolish prejudices. We can impact this community and its future generations by placing books in their hands and encouraging them to read.”

Addie gazed at the librarian, captured not only by her words but also by the conviction behind them. Somehow, she’d encapsulated why Addie had always liked to read and why she wanted to write. To inspire and educate and, yes, even change hearts for the better. Her fingers itched to take out her notebook and pen and record every word she’d just heard so she could reflect on it later. She started to ask permission, but Miss West began speaking again.

“I tell you all this because you’re an outsider, the same as I am. There are some who will snub you the way they’ve snubbed me. But, Addie”—Miss West gripped her wrist—“don’t give up. Don’t let their actions dictate your reactions. You know what books can do. You know what words can do. Don’t give up. Will you promise me? Don’t you dare let them make you give up.”

Lynch

Emmett

“DON’T GIVE UP, boy.” Paw growled the command into Emmett’s ear while massaging his shoulders.

The pressure of Paw’s fingers sent ripples of pain up Emmett’s neck and all the way down his arms. The sunshine felt good after being in the dark mine for hours, and the air tasted fresh after breathing the acrid smell of dust all morning. He wanted to stay out here in the sun and never go into the mine again. “I don’t want to give up, Paw, but…” He groaned.

A couple of men sitting on a patch of gravel with lunch boxes in their laps glanced his way and then smirked at each other.

He shrugged free of his father’s touch and held out both hands. Bleeding blisters dotted his palms. “Paw, look. How am I going to make it to the end of the day?”

Paw plopped down next to Emmett and reached for his metal lunch box. “Same way every other feller who works here does—take it one hour at a time.”

Emmett touched one particularly large blister and winced. “I’m not sure I’ve got another hour in me.”

Paw glared at him. “A man keeps goin’ even when it’s tough.” He nudged Emmett with his elbow. “Eat your lunch. It’ll bolster you for the afternoon.”

Paw’s lack of sympathy pained Emmett more than his aching muscles. He opened the peanut butter tin Maw had used to pack his lunch and pulled out a wax paper–wrapped sandwich. He wasn’t hungry. The weariness seemed to have reached all the way into his bones and stolen his hunger. But he’d eat anyway. If he took the lunch home untouched, Maw would worry. Besides, Paw was right. He needed strength to face