“I just hope Sheriff Buckner doesn’t try to get even. I’ve got my emancipation hearing on June 12. I’ve been sticking to my route and keeping close to home.” I lit the percolator and pulled Retta’s teacups down from the shelf, lifted one up to her.
“I’d love some coffee. Mother finally got around to sending my .410, but I’ve been concerned about the sheriff too. Last week, my uncle telephoned and told me he was going to write a letter to the state police commissioner and report him.”
When the coffee had brewed, I handed her a cup. “I told Mr. Morgan and the sergeant about it too.”
She put Pennie down, blew on her coffee, and took a sip. “Somebody should investigate that crooked lawman. We could’ve both been killed.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, knowing if we had perished, no matter what, the sheriff would’ve protected his kin.
After I drank a cup of coffee, I made us sandwiches from last night’s ham supper and we ate quietly, each of us thinking about Guyla Belle and her husband and how close we came to perishing up there in her cab.
Pearl noticed the envelope and letters on the table and swallowed the food she was chewing. “News about your parents?”
“Mama. She’s doing real good. They even made her prison librarian,” I said, proud.
“I’m so glad to hear it. With her glowing legacy around here, they would be fools not to. She just better be careful not to do too good of a job or they might keep her longer.”
“She may be home in the fall. I was just writing to both of them.”
“That soon?”
“Doc said it’s a real good chance, or the latest will be after the first of the year.”
“Wonderful. I can’t wait to meet her. Oh, Mother is coming over in July for a week. She wants us to all have supper together and maybe take in a picture show.” She chased down her last bite with the coffee.
“Sounds nice. I’ll bring a dessert if I get my emancipation.”
Pearl grimaced, reached over, and placed a palm over my hand. “You have to, Honey. Us troublesome women always fight back.” She thumped our hands onto the table, knocking the worn wood twice. “Fight, dear sister.”
“As long as Gillis’s kin is out there, I’ll have to watch my back. Feuds have been started over less, and Blues have been killed for even lesser grievances. And Mr. Morgan warned me that even if I got my emancipation, I needed to be mindful that it wouldn’t free me of being a Blue.”
Pearl frowned. Then my thoughts shifted to Bonnie and her fight, and the battle Guyla Belle lost, Pearl’s struggle to save us and her job, and Amara’s fierce spirit. Suddenly, I realized the women had been teaching me something important: courage. “Sisters,” I said, grateful, as I began collecting the dishes.
***
We journeyed alongside the creek, the smell of water and ferns and mud-soaked banks riding the breeze, the scents of wild onions and phlox lifting from our mounts’ heavy steps.
Pearl said, “R.C.’s been having me ride the ridges to photograph the terrain and document the topography for a new journal the Forest Service is publishing to aid with fighting the fires.” She paused to take note of the contours of the land, the streams and trees, pocketing the information to help her in her job.
“Oh, over there is a good fishing spot. It’s where Carson and I used to go hunting for crawdads.” I pointed beside a black willow and slid down off Junia. “The Flynns live on the other side. Timmy Flynn’s a real nice fella. He was Mama’s patron when he was a young boy. Loves the books. He comes home from the University of Kentucky on weekends. He’s real smart like that. And if you go down there about a mile, it takes you up to the McCain’s cabin. The granny woman and—”