The Librarian of Boone's Hollow - Kim Vogel Sawyer Page 0,74

heard about Miz West havin’ a breathin’ fit this mornin’ an’ needin’ Doc Faulkner.”

Mrs. Tharp’s eyes widened. “Oh, my…”

“Yep. Turns out she’s got some kinda sickness, an’ she ain’t gonna be able to keep livin’ here on the mountain. Said she’ll be gone by Friday, Saturday for sure, ’cause if she stays, she might keel over dead.”

Miss West hadn’t given the girls permission to share her personal information with others. Addie touched Bettina’s sleeve. “Bettina? I—”

Bettina wriggled her arm, not even bothering to look Addie’s way. “I was scared at first they’d shut the place down an’ I wouldn’t have a job no more. But she’s callin’ President Roosevelt hisself, she said, about findin’ somebody else to run the lib’ary.”

Addie tapped Bettina’s arm again. “Bettina, she said she’d talk to—”

“Me an’ the other riders”—Bettina’s voice rose in volume—“is s’posed to keep doin’ our deliveries like always. An’ I will, just as soon as we get Addie here outfitted with britches an’ boots.” She rolled her eyes. “She can’t get on her horse in the getup she’s wearin’. City gal…Don’t reckon she knows no better.” She turned to Addie and frowned. “Well, you gonna pick out some boots or not? We’re gonna lose the whole day if you don’t hurry up.”

The little boy hunched his shoulders and giggled, and Addie couldn’t resist winking at him. “Yes, I’ll find some boots.” She and Dusty both reached into the bin at the same time, his impish grin aimed at her.

Mrs. Tharp pinched her chin, gazing at Bettina. “Bettina, has Miss West made that telephone call you were talkin’ about yet?”

Bettina shrugged. “I dunno. She was sittin’ at the table, writin’ on some papers when me an’ the others left to go on our routes.”

The woman took hold of Dusty’s arm and turned him to face her. “Dusty, you keep lookin’ for boots. Remember, they gotta be good an’ loose so they’ll last awhile.”

The little boy nodded. “For church now an’ school later. I know, Maw.”

She ruffled his hair. “Good boy. I’ll be right back.”

The boy crinkled his nose. “Where you goin’?”

“Over to talk to Miss West.” She smiled at Bettina. “There’s a feller right here in Boone’s Holler who’d be fit as a fiddle for runnin’ that book program.”

Addie followed the woman’s thoughts. “Are you thinking of Emmett?”

Mrs. Tharp nodded, a happy little laugh trickling out. “I sure am.”

Emmett

“SO…MISS WEST MADE A telephone call to Washington, DC!” Maw’s eyes shone as bright as they had the day Emmett received the scholarship letter from the university in Lexington. She’d started talking the moment after Paw finished blessing their supper, and she still hadn’t taken a bite of the bean-and-hotdog casserole. “I stood right next to her in the telephone office while she told the feller at the other end about you havin’ a college diploma, an’ how you live here in Boone’s Holler, an’ how you’d come in lookin’ for a job.”

Paw paused with his spoon halfway between his plate and his mouth. “What’s wrong with the job he’s got now?”

Maw made a face. “Now, Emil, ain’t nothin’ wrong with workin’ in the coal mine. It’s honest work. I’m grateful for how your job there keeps this family fed. But look at him.” She gestured to Emmett’s hands. Strips of fresh gauze, splotched with the healing oil Maw’d rubbed on his wounds when he got home that evening, hid the healing blisters. “Emmett ain’t used to such labor. He’s a…” She tipped her head and seemed to search the ceiling beams, then bounced a satisfied smile at Paw. “Intellectual. Ain’t that what Mr. Halcomb called him? It means—”

Paw scowled. “I know what it means.”

Dusty stabbed a slice of hotdog on his plate and poked it in his mouth. “What’s it mean, Paw?”

“Somebody who uses his head to work.”

“Oh.” Dusty sat straight up. “I wanna be a coal miner instead of a…a…what Emmett is.”

Emmett swallowed a bite. “The word is intellectual, Dusty, but I’m not sure that really fits me.”

Maw lightly smacked his arm. “It does, too, an’ you need to be proud of it.” She turned to Dusty. “Why don’t you wanna be like your big brother?”

“ ’Cause if I use my head for workin’, I might get blisters on it.”

Maw and Emmett laughed, and even Paw grinned a little. He took a piece of bread from the plate in the middle of the table and mopped at the tomatoey juice on his plate. “A feller don’t get blisters from too much thinkin’,