The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek Read online

  After Doc left, Junia’s long, quavering bray sounded and I peeked out the window, surprised to see Queenie.

  She nudged her mount closer to the porch. “I’m going to pick up my last pay,” she said and slipped down off her horse, then stopped, pressed a hand to her chest. “Lord love Betsy, what has happened to you, honey? You lost your color. Plumb lost your blueberry now.”

  It was said without meanness, but her words still made me flush. I rolled up my sleeves; the late June weather was sticky and hot.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She glanced at my arms.

  “Doc gave me some pills to try. Reckon they’s working.”

  “Well, they sure ’nough work. Lord.” She grabbed my hand and inspected. “As if you wasn’t pretty enough before, you’re a’might prettier now. All of you!”

  I blushed even harder at her compliment.

  “Come on. You must come to town with me and show those bossy ladies your pretty self. They’ll have themselves a passel of kittens and scratch each other up just as sharp when they get a look-see. Especially that ol’ stinky polecat pussy, Miss Harriett.” She tugged at my hand, laughing. “Come on, it’s Thursday, and you only have to go to your outpost today.”

  “I was going to pick up my pay later, but I reckon going early won’t harm none. Let me get your dictionary.”

  She held up her palm. “You keep it, honey, ’cause where I’m going, they’ll have rooms full.”

  “But it was your pa’s.”

  “My dear papa would be mighty pleased if you were the keeper of the words. I would too, and besides, you’ll keep giving me your words. Only difference is you’ll be posting them in letters.”

  “Letters. Liaison, litany, lithe, luminary, luxuriant,” I said my latest new words, smiling as they flew musically out into the air.

  “Don’t you have yourself one fine, fine lexicon,” Queenie said, just as proud. “You’ve made it up to your Ls and so quick. Keep it, honey. We can’t have you stuck in the Ls like that.”

  “Much obliged. I’ll take good care of it and write you.”

  “Maybe you can visit me one day. Be real nice to see the city together.”

  “Sure would be something,” though I’d never have the money for such an extravagance.

  “You try and come visit, honey.” She patted my arm. “It’d be real good to see different folk other than hillfolk.”

  We rode to town. When the nausea returned, I had to stop once and dismount to empty my stomach by the path, heaving, my breaths coming hard.

  “Lord,” Queenie called out and rushed up behind me. “You okay, honey? Here, let me get you something for your sour belly. Did you have yourself a proper morning meal?” She fussed over me, swept the hair back from my face.

  “It’ll pass once the medicine takes good root. I’m fine,” I said between shallow breaths.

  In a minute, she pressed a jam-packed biscuit into my hand and ordered me to eat.

  I pushed it away. “I’ll not take your food.” I wouldn’t dare. It would be thieving, and all because of my vanity. The thought knotted my belly, and I pressed a fist into it.

  Queenie laid a soft hand on my shoulder. “You will because I know plenty, know’d you’d give me yours. Eat, honey.”

  I sat on the ground and ate while she made sure I gobbled every bite. When I wiped away the last crumb, I felt stronger and was ready to journey on.

  Queenie ordered me to rest a few more minutes, and by the time we mounted, a half hour had passed and I felt pert, excited, and scared about how folks would look at me, what they’d say.

  Queenie chatted about her new job. “To think I’ll be there in time to celebrate Independence Day. My independence.” She smiled. “I reckon that city’ll have itself a grand parade.” She shot me a look. “You should go to Troublesome’s this year.”

  “I’ve never been but once.” I ticked off the eleven days until the Fourth.

  “I reckon they couldn’t stop you now that you lost the color.”

  I chewed on the notion.

  Queenie pulled back to her job. “I aim to get myself a librarian degree.”

  “A degree,” I said in awe.

  “I’ve dreamed of opportunity forever,” she said. “To think how important it is for one to have chances over everything. They give the body life.”

  I plucked up her words and turned them over in my mind.

  She went on, “My sons and their sons will have it, and they won’t be tethered to their color, choked by the leashes of those who would cinch the tightest with the longest of ropes.”

  Before today, I couldn’t imagine there would be such opportunities in my blue world. Now, my mind slipped over her bubbly talk, and it stole away to new thoughts of what might be, what I might become, dipped into fanciful worlds away from here.

  Safe in my mind, I had enough courage to take those opportunities I got from books and magpie them away as my own.

  We arrived in town, tied our mounts in the back of the post office, and walked into the Library Center together. Queenie chattered cheerfully and made me excited for her, for the both of us.

  As I stepped inside, I smoothed my skirts and began to roll down my sleeves when Harriett spotted my face and arms. She let out a gasp, then jumped up and screamed, “Out, out, out!” Harriett stabbed a finger to the door. “I knew you had the disease in you. You was just waiting to pass it to us Godly folks. Both of you. Out! Eula…Eula, make them leave!”

  Postmaster Bill poked his head around the post office’s doorway and said, “Widow Frazier? Widow Frazier’s sick.” He crooked his head back and told someone in the post office. “Sir, ya may want to see her.”

  At that, Doc came up behind the postmaster, holding his mail. He pushed Bill aside. “What is it, Bill?”

  Postmaster Bill pointed to me.

  “What in tarnation… What’s going on?” Doc demanded, confused.

  “Oh, Doc, it’s one of the coloreds. The Blue one,” Harriett screeched. “Look! She’s turned white from her disease and is going to infect us all.”

  Eula, taking big gulps behind a hankie pressed over her nose, had rushed to Harriett’s side.

  I wanted to turn and run for home, but Queenie latched tight onto my arm.

  “I said get out,” Harriett ordered. “Get your filthy sickness away from us. You’re fired. Eula, dismiss her—”

  I felt the air leave me. Queenie patted my shoulder, whispered something soft into my ear.

  Doc stepped forward. “She is not sick. Mrs. Frazier is my patient, in my care, and I have declared her fit and of sound mind as any two strong men in this land.”

  “But she’s white. White,” Harriett said.

  “And a fine, pretty white if I’ve ever seen one. And I’ve seen myself many, Miss Hardin,” Doc snapped, glaring at her over his spectacles.

  Harriett’s eyes filled with rage. She raked them over the length of me. Then her chin lifted, and I glimpsed the tilt was unspoken jealousy.

  “But look at her, all of her.” Harriett pointed to my face, neck, body. “Her whole figure, her—”

  “Silence, madam!” Doc barked and nailed his finger to Harriett’s face, then slowly lowered it to her belly, poking. “You, my dear, would do well health-wise to attend to your own figure, and if you cannot watch that”—he jabbed his finger again—“be forewarned, nor will any man.”

  The old doc had a fury and might I’d never seen, a glint in his old eyes that rent a youthful, strong spirit.

  Queenie tightened a giggle, tapped a finger to her lips.

  Harriett bared her teeth and hissed.

  I realized I was holding my breath and slowly released it before I fainted, or worse.

  Doc thrust a hard jaw toward the assistant supervisor.

  Clutching her chest, Harriett opened, then snapped her mouth
shut. Her lips quivered, and a harder anger spiked in her eyes, spilling hot tears. Again, she worked her mouth, clenched a fist. Afraid, I cast my eyes downward, stepped back. She picked up her skirts and ran into the ladies’ room, slammed the door, rattling wood and windows.

  Eula plopped into the nearest chair, eyes downcast, wringing her handkerchief.

  “Bluet,” the doc boomed, and loud enough that I know’d Harriett heard, all of Troublesome even. “May I say you’re looking quite lovely today.”

  Queenie murmured in agreement, and my face burned with pride and embarrassment. Never in my life had folks talked about me being pretty. My tongue tried to scrape off a proper thank-you, but the words stayed locked, bubbling inside like a drowning frog.

  “Yes,” Doc said. “I’d wager the fairest lady in all Kentucky… Mrs. Johnson, Miss Foster.” He tipped his head to us. “Good day, ladies.” Doc slipped out the door.

  I let out a ragged breath.

  Eula still had her hands in her lap, folding and unfolding the hankie, as if waiting for someone to tell her what she should do next, or maybe even do it for her.

  Gracious, Queenie did just that, stepped over to her and said, “Miss Foster, I’m here for my final pay, ma’am.”

  “Yes, yes of course,” Eula managed hoarsely, dabbing her mouth with the handkerchief. She stood, picked up an envelope off her desk, and set it on the edge. Queenie took it.

  Eula swallowed twice and said, “The—” She sniffed and took a small breath. “The Pack Horse librarians thank you for your service. Godspeed, Widow Johnson.”

  Queenie gave her a tight smile, then reached over and touched my arm. “I’ll write to you, honey, as soon as I’m settled. You write me back.”

  “Sure will,” I promised. And Queenie was out the door. The screen clacked twice, cheering her on.

  I stared after her, thinking of the places she’d see, the people she’d meet, the opportunities she’d have. Finally, she’d be living the books she’d read about.

  Eula called my name. “Widow Frazier.”

  “Ma’am.”

  She slid my pay envelope over to the edge. “Your pay.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” I slipped it into my pocket and headed toward the door.

  Birdie strolled in with her baby hitched on a hip and stopped and turned to me, her young eyes dulled from restless nights. “Bluet, you’re—”

  “White,” I said happily.

  “White. Oh! You’re white.”

  I nodded. “Doc gave me a cure.”

  “Oh my,” she said. “So pretty, and the prettiest li’l daisy I’ve ever seen. Isn’t that right, Samuel?” She jiggled him up and down on her hip. The baby squealed with delight, poked a finger into his drooling mouth, and grinned at me. “Yessir, our Bluet’s a looker, and one the boys are gonna want to hook,” she told him teasingly. “And look at you, Samuel, already a’flirtin’.”

  Harriett walked out of the ladies’ room.

  “Uh-huh. One pretty lady,” Birdie said.

  Harriett’s heel landed beside me. She leaned her head dangerously close to mine. “A pig in lipstick is still a stinkin’ pig,” she spat, her wet hiss spinning in the air as she swept past to her desk.

  I turned. Her red eyes bored into mine. And I held them, locked, and lifted my chin two-man tall, snatching back some of the humankind that had been stolen.

  Thirty

  It had been a perfect June morning, and I rode away from town pleased I had money to give Pa, pleased with my new color.

  I found a spot along the creek to let Junia drink from and dallied a little longer, thinking of clever talk I could have with Mr. Lovett next Monday, eager to show him my new color.

  I mounted and headed to my outpost, anxious to see what the courier had dropped off. Soon, the hardness of my morning spent at the Center, Queenie’s leaving, Harriett and Eula’s fussing caught up with me, and in a few moments a headache reached my temples and tightened a band around my head.

  I pressed a hankie to my forehead, fanned my neck. On Knob Trail, I passed a few folks headed into town, a man with a cart full of wares, and a woman and small child carrying baskets. A few minutes later, I heard the high whinny of someone else’s mount.

  I pulled Junia’s reins to the right, stepping slightly off the path to let the rider pass.

  The mule stopped and pricked her ears when she saw him.

  Jackson Lovett rode toward us on a strong chestnut horse. Junia blew twice to let them know to step aside. He galloped onward, stopping beside us. “Cussy Mary, I’m taking my new horse into town to meet some men about timber. And here you are, and just in time to say hello.”

  His smile disappeared. Leaning forward, his eyes fixed on me, brows knitted in concern, a worriment peaking in his eyes. Again he searched my face.

  My skin grew hot, and my mouth became dusty as I called out a greeting. Then everything blurred and I was falling. Falling. Falling.

  I came to on the ground, Jackson’s head bent over mine, his hands cradling, rubbing mine.

  I’d fainted or died, maybe both, I couldn’t be sure. But I felt a dreamy grin on my lips, a warmth in his touch of a kind I had never known.

  He squeezed my hand and called to me once, twice. “Cussy Mary.” He tapped lightly on my shoulder, rubbed my hand. I bolted upright, sat up, and scanned my surroundings, sure I was dreaming it all.

  “Cussy, are you ill?” He gripped my arm, and I blinked and pulled to his voice and saw his wide eyes darken. “Talk to me. Are you hurt? Are—”

  “I’m…I’m fine. It’s only the medicine.” I pressed my hands to my warm cheeks, shook away the grogginess.

  “Medicine?”

  I pulled myself to my knees and drew breaths. Jackson lifted me to my feet.

  Junia gave a weak bray, kept a big eye pinned to us.

  “I, uh… Doc found a cure for my color.” I patted my hair and dusted my skirts, feeling horribly embarrassed.

  “And it makes you faint?”

  “No, it upsets my belly and gives me fierce headaches. This is the first time I’ve had this…this type of spell. It usually rights itself as the day wears on and the medicine gets out of my body—I turn back to blue.” I shook my skirts again.

  “Turn back? It’s temporary?”

  I hesitated, wanting it to be forever—for him to see me like this always. “Yes,” I said, feeling a sadness rise, as I searched his eyes for disappointment. “It’s…uh…temporary.”

  Jackson shook his head. “You could’ve broke your neck just now.” He waited, thinking, then, “Lots of cures are worse than what they aim to cure. Are you stuck with it, or can you toss it?”

  “Ah,” I stammered. “Doc said I could stop any time if I couldn’t take the reactions.”

  I felt a flush color my ears and crawl over my face. It was vanity that made me use Doc’s medicine and keep using it. And one of the deadly sins of the Lord Almighty. Now Jackson thought I was foolish and vain.

  “There’s nothing wrong with your color, being you,” he said firmly. “Nothing wrong with what the good Lord gives us in His world, Cussy Mary.”

  He didn’t know, couldn’t know, the load I’d carried as a Blue, the scorn and hatred and gruesome marriage. How dare Pa call me vain and now Jackson. How dare he too?

  “Nothing wrong—” Jackson repeated.

  I stepped back and shot out a shaky hand. “No, Jackson Lovett, you’re wrong. There is nothing wrong with your color in your world, a world that wants only whiteness.”

  He flinched, and his eyes filled with a mixture of hurt, sadness, maybe pity, I couldn’t be sure, but I wouldn’t wait to find out.

  I spun on my heels and grabbed Junia’s straps. Hoisting myself up, I snapped the reins, and we broke into a fast run.

  “Dear Lord,” I said when we were far away, pres
sing my face, the shame, into Junia’s fur. “God, what has happened to me? Who have I become, and how small have I become? Mama would be so ashamed.”

  And thinking about her, and the burdens my folks carried, and the grace they’d carried them with made me feel smaller.

  Thirty-One

  The second hot day of July wore on me, and I rested more times than I dared on my route up Hogtail Mountain, each time feeling sicker and weaker. It’d been nine days since I’d started taking Doc’s medicine, and I still felt bad, still thirsted for water, especially in the mornings. It seemed like with each passing day, the medicine was making me feel worse. So much that I took to leaving all loans on the porches, avoiding my patrons. Today, I tried to get food down, but it came right back up.

  Junia’s big eyes worried over my shoulder, and she nuzzled my back the second time I emptied my aching belly onto the road.

  My skin felt feverish, and my throat was raw from retching.

  With a pounding head, I finally reached R.C.’s fire tower.

  R.C. poked his face over the rail, waved, then disappeared back inside.

  I tied Junia and looked up the steep staircase. Digging into the book satchel, I pulled out R.C.’s magazine and the Fourth celebration flyer the Company store left at the Center to be passed out. I hoped R.C. didn’t have himself a fire somewhere, prayed I wouldn’t have to climb to the top today, of all days. Still, I always wanted to please the patron and leave the loan where they wanted it.

  I waited a long time, but didn’t hear his footfalls on the metal stairs, or his voice calling down to me. I’d have to brave the climb. I cursed the blue drug and then my vanity as I trudged up the steps to the first landing. Overhead, I heard R.C. open the door and clomp down the stairs.

  I blew a shaky breath, grabbed the railing, and waited.

  When R.C. came into view above me, I covered my mouth to silence a cry.

  But R.C. beat me to it. He ran toward me, leaving behind a girl who’d been trailing him. “Book Woman. Miss Bluet, what happened?” he hollered, jumping the last three steps onto the landing beside me and dropping his old loan. The steel rattled, crawled up into my feet, and echoed into my aching head, leaving me to sway a little.