“Second hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.”
Virginia Woolf
Southeast Kentucky, 1930's
The old mule plodded sluggishly, yet sure of foot, uphill through three inches of Kentucky mud on a pot-holed road that was little more than a wide path through the barren trees. A cold late autumn drizzle soaked both ride and rider, causing the latter to shiver miserably despite her layers of woolen clothing. The mule didn't care one way or the other. In an earlier life, it had been a plow animal on a struggling tobacco farm. It knew very little of so called creature comforts.
Hannah Daily huddled as best she could away from the cold and wet, and wished she could crawl inside one of the packs with the nearly eighty books they protected from the elements. She was grateful that it wasn't much further to Hignite, the small mining community that was her next stop. There she would spend a couple of days, sharing her precious cargo as both librarian and teacher to its residents of all ages.
The promise of shelter wasn't the only reward she anticipated at the end of the afternoon. Hignite was one of her favorite stops on her route. Its seventy-five or so residents, though pitifully poor, were mostly kind-hearted, generous, hardworking people who valued and appreciated what books could bring them. For some adults it was an opportunity to continue their education. For others, those fortunate enough to know how to read, the books became their eyes on the world, as well as an escape to other far away lands. The children's curiosity and dreams about life away from the mines were insatiable, and Hannah was only too happy to provide them their sustenance.
As the mule crested the hill the cold rain began freezing into slush. Hannah urged it on as dread filled her. It was all downhill from here to the narrow valley where the tiny company town was located. She wanted to kick the mule into a lope but she didn't dare for fear that even the surefooted animal would fall and surely injure her badly in the process. It might be days before anyone found her body as this was the back way into town. Seldom did anyone come this way with any regularity.
Sometimes, such as now, she could almost believe she was moving the mountain to bring the town her books.
She reached the bottom of the hill and the outskirts of Hignite as the mud froze and ice formed on the branches of trees. Coal and wood smoke hung pall-like over the town. She could see the faint glow of light filtering through the newspapered cracks in the walls of the box-style houses. Somewhere a baby was crying while shouts between a man and woman could also be heard.
Wearily, she rode up to the lone log house that sat at the far end of town and dismounted. Just as she reached the door, it opened and she found herself staring into the hard eyes of a monster of a man with a straggly beard, and a shotgun in his hand.
“Oh,” he snorted, “It's you.”
“Yes, hello Mr. Kirby. Is it alright if I make use of the church again while I'm here?”
“As long as you're gone by Sunday.”
“I should be, thank you.”
He started to close the door then peered again at her with a disgusted expression.
“I suppose you need food and blankets.”
Hannah shook her head.
“Not tonight, no. But thank you for asking.”
With something akin to a growl, he shut the door in her face and Hannah turned away with a sigh. Shivering, she returned to the mule and remounted, then slowly made her way to a small shabby box building on the outer edge of town. A piece of broken board was nailed to the wall beside the door with the words Church of God in Jesus Name scrawled in dingy white paint across it. She was shivering violently as she once again dismounted and led the mule around back to a decrepit shed that stood not far from the outhouse. It would provide the mule at least some protection from the elements. After removing the heavy packs and saddle, she opened a large burlap bag and measured out some grain into a hanging bucket for the mule to eat then looked about the gloom until she spied the remains of a bale of hay and the old bucket that was always hanging in the opposite corner. Grabbing the handle, she carried it quickly to the creek that trickled past, found a small pool where she filled it half full of numbingly cold water, then returned it to the shed. Only after the mule was settled for the night with the shed door closed to keep out some of the weather did she begin carrying the packs into the dark church. After one last, very quick trip outside to the privy, she returned to the church and gratefully shut the door behind her. It was almost as cold inside as out, but after locating the kerosene lamp and matches, she soon had enough light to start a fire in the cast iron stove. The newspapers covering the openings between the boards making up the walls did little to hold out the cold, but the stove nonetheless soon had the room warm enough to change out of her wet clothes into dry and stop her shivering.
After eating a small meal of left over biscuit and hog jowl from breakfast, she unrolled her bedroll from its protective tarp and made a pallet on the floor a few feet from the stove. After turning down the flame in the lamp she had set an arms length distance away, stretched out on the hard floor with a wool blanket covering her. In moments, she was asleep.
Hours later, Hannah was startled awake by the sudden opening of the door and a blast of cold air from outside. She sat up in time to see a male figure walk quickly into the room. Upon seeing her, he paused, obviously startled, before closing the door behind him.
“I'm sorry,” his said brusquely, his voice low and deep, “Kirby didn't tell me anyone was here.”
Rising to her feet, Hannah shook out her skirt before turning the flame up in the lamp. Her heart scarcely slowed when she recognized the tall, well built, middle aged man before her.
“Hello, Thaddeus.”
“Hannah? My lord! What are you doing here?”
“My job, of course. What about you?”
His smile was familiar and endearing. A crooked quirk on one side of his mouth while the other remained immobile, it was a remnant of an old wound, and it never failed to affect her breathing.
“The same.”
She motioned him in.
“Might as well make yourself comfortable. Or at least as much as you're able.”
He advanced into the room and shed his heavy coat and hat before setting down his own bedroll several feet to the other side of the stove.
“Better than sleeping in the car.”
She smiled sardonically.
“Better than camping out with a mule.”
He placed a small, leather bag on the floor then bent and began preparing the bedroll, then glanced up and shook his head.
“It's a wonder you women aren't dying of exposure.”
“Well, at least tonight I have the company doctor handy if I take a turn for the worse.”
Grinning, he nodded and returned to his task, “True.”
“Do you have something to eat?”
“I ate earlier, thanks.”
Easing down on his blankets, he began taking off his shoes.
“The weather is getting worse. I wouldn't be at all surprised if we get snow tonight.”
Hannah added more wood to the fire before returning to her pallet.
“Me, neither.”
She watched as he stretched out with his wool blanket pulled over him. With his head nestled in one hand, he peered at her through the lamp light. Most people would see only a woman in her thirties with average, rather plain features, whose one claim to beauty was her hip-length deep brown hair. But he saw much more when he looked into her warm brown eyes.
“It's good to see you, Hannah. How have you been?”
“Busy. How about you?”
“Busy. The violence in Harlen...”
She nodded sadly, “I know. Do you think it will ever end?”
He sighed, “I don't know. I hope so.”
“Surely some kind of accord can be reached between the company and the miners.”
“Not without more bloodshed, I'm afraid.” He looked at the floor for a moment before returning his gaze to her. “Has it affected you?”
“No. As long as I remain neutral I should be okay. How do you manage being a doctor and a company man at the same time?”
“Hard, careful work. I have to abide by my Hippocratic oath and that isn't easy with the company pressuring me to treat only those they allow.” He paused. “I'm thinking of leaving and going home to Montana. My father has said he wants to retire and would like for me to take over his practice.”
“I wish I could leave. I want to get Momma out of here. Take her somewhere she can rest easy in her remaining years. But I don't know how I can manage it with the way things are.”
A sudden gust of wind rattled the walls and caused small bubbles to appear beneath the newspaper. Shivering, she pulled the blanket closer about her.
“I'm worried, Thad. I'm worried about the people I meet. So many are barely hanging on. Their livelihoods depend upon the mines but they live in fear of speaking their minds. The unions only want to help them but at the same time they're afraid the violence will come if they have anything to do with the unions. And then there's the fear of loosing their jobs.” She laid her head on her folded coat. “I feel so helpless.”
He nodded.
“I know. I feel the same way.”
There was silence for moment before he spoke again.
I've often thought of you, Hannah,” he murmured.
Her eyes met his across the distance between them. She didn't realize that he could see the sparkle of the lamplight reflected in them.
“And I you,” she admitted softly then sat up and reached over to turn the light down. “Good night, Thad.”
“Good night, Hannah.”
~
Snow was falling the next morning. After seeing to her mule, Hannah returned to the church and began setting out the books from within her packs. Most had been donated by individuals and organizations to help support the packhorse libraries. Some were more like journals filled with recipes, home remedies, and magazine and newspaper clippings that the people the librarians served had continued to add to and pass along. There were a few outdated magazines and newspapers as well. All would be eagerly perused by all ages of the community who would come to exchange the books they'd borrowed last time for new ones.
Thad was already making his rounds, seeing to those already under his care as well as a few others that were in need of it. No doubt he was being closely supervised by the town healing woman. The wind had abated in the early morning hours and now smoke wafted amid the houses, bringing with it the scent of burning wood and coal. It was still chilly inside the church but the heating stove was doing a fair job of keeping most of the cold out.
As Hannah stoked and added wood to the fire, the door opened behind her. Turning, she found a young woman entering, holding a toddler on one hip while grasping the hand of a girl of about four. The mother and daughter wore heavy, ill-fitting coats and wool scarves over their heads while the baby was bundled warmly in layers of wool and flannel. Hannah smiled and rushed to close the door behind them.
“Sarah!” she greeted the young woman. “How good to see you!”
Sarah smiled in response as she unwound the scarf from about her head.
“Hello, Miss Hannah.” She looked down at her daughter. “Say hello to Miss Hannah, Lucy.”
“Hello, Miss Hannah,” Lucy shyly responded almost in a whisper as a finger probed one nostril.
“Hello, Lucy. Did you come to look at books?”
The little girl nodded bashfully.
“Well, I just happen to have a nice selection of picture books. Would you like to see them?”
Leading them to the tables where the books were displayed, she showed Lucy the children's picture books before turning back to her mother.
“What will you be looking for today, Sarah?” Hannah reached toward the little boy in her arms. “Here, let me hold him while you look.”
Sarah gratefully handed the child over as she glanced at the table.
“I would like to see one of the recipe books, if I may.”
“Of course. Just help yourself.” She smiled down at the little boy who was watching her with wide, solemn eyes before looking back at his mother. “How have you been, Sarah? I missed you the last time I was here.”
“I was a little puny then. I'm in the family way again and I never feel well in the early days.”
“Another little one? Congratulations.” Privately, Hannah's heart went out to the young woman. Though she was no more than twenty, she already bore signs of her difficult life in her young face. Another child would only had to her hardship. “When is it due?”
“In the spring sometime.” Sarah's expression conveyed both pleasure and fatigue. “Henry is excited. Says he wants another boy.”
About that time, the door opened again as more residents began to arrive. Hannah greeted them all warmly, thanking those who brought food for her to eat while she was there, while taking books they had kept from the last visit and showing them the tables of new offerings. Time passed. After Sarah and her children left, she chatted as books were chosen, catching up on the community's happenings while sharing news from outside the mountains. During lulls she spent time helping the children and a few adults with their reading lessons.
Shortly after noon Thad returned to the church. Stepping inside, he brought with him a blast of icy wind and a flurry of snow before quickly closing the door behind him. Hannah paused in helping ten-year-old Ebenezer with his ciphering to greet him.
“Looks like the weather has turned again,” she commented with a wry smile.
Thad nodded as he removed his hat and gloves, then began unwrapping the scarf from around his neck.
“Yes, definitely.” He removed his coat and hung it with the other winter paraphernalia on a peg beside the door. “How have things been here?”
“Busy.” Hannah turned back to Ebenezer and gently closed the book they'd been working with. “Eb, it's getting pretty bad outside. I think you should go on back home now.”
“Yes'm, Miss Hannah,” the boy replied and quickly rose to his feet. Within moments he had his too-large coat buttoned and his gloves on and was scurrying out the door with little more than a muttered farewell. Hannah watched him go with an affectionate, though sad, smile.
“That little boy could really become something if only given a chance.” She sighed. “They all could.”
Thad nodded, “I know.” He gestured toward the stove where a coffee pot sat alongside a Dutch oven and pan of biscuits. “Any coffee left?”
She nodded as she rose to her feet.
“Should be. I just made some before everyone left.”
He helped himself to a cup and watched as she put the book she and Ebenezer had been using away and began tidying the tops of the tables.
“We have a problem,” he began, “or should I say, you may have one.”
Hannah glanced over at him.
“Yes?”
“The weather has us stranded here. Normally we come at different times so there's no problem with lodging. This time, however, we both need the church.”
She nodded as she took a seat in a chair close to the stove.
“I know. I've been thinking of that as well.” Her smile was wry. “As has every woman who came in today.”
“I understand that none of the families have room for you to stay with them. As for me, I could bunk with one of the curmudgeons but it would be a fight to get one to agree.”
Practicality would insist that they share the church. Moral sensibilities, however, dictated otherwise. At her age, Hannah was considered as having been long “on the shelf,” but her position as a librarian demanded a heightened degree of decorum. This in spite of the fact that it required many hours of traveling alone to remote communities that all too often were made up primarily of working men.
A sudden gust of wind rattled the doors and windows, and caused patches of the newspapers on the walls to balloon a bit.
“Frankly, Thad, I really don't care tonight. The weather is too bad to have you going door to door begging for a place to lay your head when you have one right here.” She nodded toward the stove. “There's plenty to eat so help yourself then settle in. It looks like it's going to be a nasty night.”
~
The storm went on for two days. There were prolonged periods of wind, which sent snow and ice stinging into Hannah's face when she struggled outside to see to her mule. There were occasional cracks that ricocheted through the frigid air as trees and tree limbs succumbed to the buildup of ice. The short periods of relative calm in between allowed Thad to continue looking after those in need of his help and for food and firewood to be brought to the church for him and Hannah. Practicality ruled so no censorious comments were made on their living arrangements. At least to their faces.
On the third day, the storm abated enough for Thad to call on Edna Forsyth, who was sick with consumption, and for a few brave souls to visit for new reading material. As the afternoon wore on, Hannah heard the wind once again picking up and knew she had best be seeing to the mule before it got worse.
Bundling up in layers topped with her wool coat, she made her way to the shed and, careful of the build up of ice around the door, entered the small space that was somewhat warmer due to the mule's body heat. The animal was restless after days of forced inactivity and she crooned softly to it as she set to work. As the wind continued to build, she poured a ration of grain into the bucket hanging in one corner and spread hay beneath it before breaking the ice atop the other bucket hanging in the opposite corner that was still mostly filled with water. With a last pat on the animal's neck, she made her way back to the door.
Struggling against the wind, she managed to get the heavy door part way opened when a violent gust suddenly blew it closed again, throwing Hannah backward into the shed where she bounced off the mule's backside. With a startled bray, it kicked in response, its hooves slamming into Hannah's shoulder and sending her flying back into the door with enough force to drive it open once more. She landed face down in the snow just as another gust of wind blew the door against her body.
Stunned and disoriented, Hannah lay prone for a few minutes before the door once again slammed into her and she screamed in agony. The pain penetrated her fogged state and she was abruptly aware of the snow and the wind blowing around her. She struggled to sit up before the door once again slammed into her. Her scream was blown away before she struggled again to push away from the ground, only to collapse again as more pain ripped through her. The door once more slammed into her but this time she merely groaned and frantically struggled through the snow until she reached the frozen ground and began to claw her way one handed toward the cabin, managing only a few inches at a time. Once she was out of the door's path, she collapsed once again, this time into oblivion.
Thad entered the church a half hour later to find the room cold with no sign of Hannah. The glowing embers in the stove told him that it had been some time since she had tended to it and worry overtook him. Hurriedly he added wood and closed the iron door without waiting to see if the fire caught before hurrying across to the back door. The only place he could think she would be was in the shed.
Snow blew in on a brutal blast of wind when he opened the door and saw her crumpled part of the way between the two buildings. With his heart in his throat, he rushed outside and seconds later fell to his knees beside her. Feeling for a pulse beneath her scarf, he was reassured to find one though it was dangerously show. Lifting her, he struggled against the wind and carried her back to the church. Hurrying inside, he set her gently on her pallet before rising again to shut the wind out. Quickly, he shed his coat before checking the stove to find the fire had indeed caught, and added still more wood to quickly raise the heat. Returning to Hannah, he knelt beside her and began to strip her of her wet coat and clothes. Her skin was pasty white, her lips had begun to turn blue and she wasn't shivering. Frantically, he stripped down to his underwear then lay down beside her, drawing the blankets over them before taking her into his arms.
The chill of her body was a shock to his and a shudder ran through him as he pulled her against him.
“Hannah! Hannah, wake up! Come on, sweetheart.”
For endless minutes, he continued to talk to her as he held her close and ran his hand roughly up and down her back and arm. Finally, she began to shiver.
“That's it, sweetheart. Come on.”
Briskly, he continued to rub her skin and watched as color returned to her face. Then she began to moan as the pain returned.
“Hannah?”
“Oh god,” she cried out in a hoarse voice when he rubbed her shoulder and she tried to pull away from him. “It hurts!”
Drawing back, he tried to see what was wrong but the gloom created by the weather outside hampered his effort. Rising quickly, he retrieved the lamp from one of the tables that held her books, raised the wick to increase the light, then once again knelt beside her. Drawing the quilt aside, he could plainly see the odd angle of her shoulder and the rapidly darkening bruises. As gently as possible he probed around the bones until she gasped and cried out again.
“What happened, Hannah?”
“The mule,” was all she could say between her clenched teeth, but that was all he needed to hear.
Rising once again to his feet, he quickly donned his pants and shirt, leaving the last unbuttoned, then reached for his medical bag.
“Your shoulder is dislocated,” he said as he knelt beside her, “and I'm going to have to jerk it back into place. It won't be pleasant, Hannah, but I have something to give you that will make it more bearable.”
Her gaze met his and he watched fear cross her face before she firmed her jaw as she began preparing herself for what lie ahead.
“Okay.”
A few moments later, after injecting a shot of morphine into her arm, Thad securely positioned himself, carefully lifted her arm above the elbow, and with no warning gave it a sudden hard jerk. Hannah's scream filled the room before ending abruptly as she lost consciousness. After probing the joint, Thad breathed a sigh of relief. The bones were back in place.
The morphine, more than the procedure, kept Hannah asleep for over an hour. When she awoke, she found herself dressed in her faded flannel gown with her arm in a sling and the pain now bearable. Looking around the room, she found Thad sitting in a chair close by reading one of the books from atop the table with a pair of wire rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Looking up, his gaze met her sleepy one and he smiled as he set the book aside and moved to kneel beside her.
“Hey,” he murmured, “Welcome back. How do you feel?”
Smiling slightly in return, she nodded.
“Still sore, but better. Thank you.”
“Would you like some water?”
“Yes.”
Rising, he found her canteen that she'd hung from a peg on the wall and brought it to her. Settling once again beside her, he carefully helped her to sit up then held her with an arm around her back as she drank thirstily.
“You'll probably have a mild fever for a few hours but other than that you should recover fairly quickly. Your fingers and toes were almost frostbit but I got them warmed up, and I didn't find any other lasting injuries. You were very fortunate.”
“I know.”
He took the canteen from her before laying her back down and she watched as he returned it to its peg. Crossing to the stove, he used a small towel to carefully lift the lid on the Dutch oven, releasing fragrant steam into the chilly air.
“There's some stew left. Have you eaten anything today?”
“A little, this morning.”
“You need to eat something. Think you can manage some?”
Closing her eyes, she nodded before once again meeting his gaze.
“A little.”
She watched as he dished some into a small bowl then struggled to sit up when he brought it to her. He quickly set the bowl on the chair beside her pallet and helped her upright. For several minutes afterward the only sounds were the quiet clank of the spoon against the crockery bowl as he fed her small bites and their murmured conversation about inconsequential things. When she finished, she told him she'd rather sit up a little longer then watched as he took the empty bowl and set it on the table nearest the stove. Afterward, he began to slowly pace from one door to the other. His expression was troubled, his body taut with nerves.
“Thad? Is everything alright?” she asked worriedly and watched him pause. After a moment, he took a deep breath before turning to face her.
“Hannah,” he began before looking away. A moment passed before his gaze again met hers. “Hannah, we've known one another for a while now and I think you've guessed that I've come to care for you.”
She slowly nodded but remained silent.
“Today, when I found you out there, at first I thought you were dead and for a moment it was as if I had died, too. Then, when I realized that you still lived, I was filled with such joy. Until that moment, I hadn't truly appreciated the depth of my feelings.”
He paused and wiped his hand over his face.
“I've decided to go home to Montana and help my father in his practice.” His gaze met hers. “I would like for you to go with me.”
Hannah's mouth fell open.
“Go with you?”
He nodded then moved to kneel beside her. Cupping her cheek with one hand, he smiled tenderly and his voice lowered to barely more than a rough whisper.
“Yes. When I thought I'd lost you my world stopped, and I realized that I more than cared for you. I love you. I love your courage, your sensitivity, your dedication to your work. You deserve so much more than you have now, and I want to give it to you.” Lifting her hand, he kissed its palm. “Marry me and come with me.”
“But what about my mother?”
“We'll take her with us. This place is a powder keg with this ongoing war between the union and the mine owners. It's dangerous to be up here where violence can break out at any time. I want you to be safe. And your mother as well.”
Her expression belied her conflicting thoughts.
“Thad, I...”
Again, he gently cupped her cheek.
“Can you love me, Hannah? Will you give me a chance?”
Once again her eyes met his and she saw the love reflected there. She thought about not seeing him again and felt her heart squeeze in painful denial. She realized for the first time that her own feelings had slowly changed as she'd known him better, but she'd consigned herself to remaining unwed for so long the possibility of there ever being anything between them had never occurred to her. Now, however, it was as if a wall had suddenly fallen and she understood at last the full nature of the joy she felt each time they met and the sadness when they parted. Tears glistened in her eyes as she pressed her hand against his.
“I've been so blind, Thad. I do love you. I've felt things for you that I have never felt before and didn't recognize. I thought I was just being silly.” Turning her head she pressed a kiss into his palm. “I'll go with you wherever you go.”
A brilliant smile spread across his handsome face even as he breathed a sigh of relief and leaned forward to press a tender kiss to her lips.
“We'll be married as soon as we can arrange it. And as soon as a replacement is found for me, we'll leave for Montana.”
She nodded and smiled as one glistening tear fell.
“Whenever you say.”
The End
c. 2021
*Authors Note*
Many of the details of this story came from the stories my grandmother used to tell me about the years my grandfather worked as a coal miner in the Harden, Kentucky area (even the mule kick to Hannah's shoulder). It was a hardscrabble life and, especially during the 1930s, fraught with violence as the unions sought to make inroads into the mine industry. They were, and still are, a proud, tough people with a rich heritage and culture that we only hear about when there is a mine accident. I am proud to have been born of those roots.
A poignant tale of two people who serve others before themselves and eventually found each other when near tragedy struck and they both realized how much they cared for one another.
While I found the way that Hannah was injured and that her injury was only a dislocated shoulder was a bit hokey, it certainly was defining enough to bring the two together. I was surprised that she didn't have any frostbite when she had hypothermia beyond shivering.
The story does give one a sense of what it was like in those isolated mining towns hollers during the Depression.
Crystal Reed thought she had met the perfect man. Instead she finds herself entangled in a web of obsessive love and dark secrets, a world that has become tainted by deception and treachery.
Southeast Kentucky, 1930's
