Alarmed, I slid off Junia, pulled out the rifle from its scabbard, and snuck over to the porch, the gun snugged to my shoulder.
Quieting my breaths, I lifted a boot, and nudged the door open wider. Broken dishes, scattered pots, pans, and split bags of flour, sugar, and walnuts were littered across the floor, the contents spilling out everywhere.
Then it ran toward me.
Junia screamed as the wild raccoon bolted out the door right past me, hissing and screeching. My legs near buckling, I steadied myself against a porch beam watching while Junia drove the creature from the yard, and a yowling Pennie flew out of the stall, joining the chase.
Breathing hard, I recalled a couple living in the next holler. How they were awakened during the middle of the night after a rabid one crawled down their chimney and tore off half of the sleeping woman’s face.
After I rounded up Junia and cleaned up the mess, I baked Mrs. Taft’s cookies, hoping I could train the mule to be more agreeable and keep her from running off. Soon, the sun dropped low and I lit the lantern and built a fire, digging out my journal to read the poems I’d written and addressing a note to Mr. Taft asking him to leave a few poetry books at the outpost.
Tired, I looked over my list of patrons for tomorrow, then donned my nightgown. It was one of Mama’s and I ran my hand over the frayed threads, rubbed the soft fabric against my cheek, grateful she’d packed it for me.
I picked up the newspaper I’d carried home, pulled the lantern closer, and once again read about Byrne’s emancipation, my mind turning.
***
At dawn, I slipped on my coat and gloves and climbed atop Junia for my Wednesday route. Mr. Cecil was the first drop-off. He was a widowed coal miner taking care of Charlotte, his thirteen-year-old daughter, Miss Foster had said.
After I left the loans, I turned onto the Smiths’ path and rode deep into the woods until we came upon the moonshiner’s cabin.
Laughter and squeals of young babes skated out the cabin as Junia rode straight past the empty clothesline and up to Martha Hannah’s open window.
“Honey.” Martha Hannah placed a palm across her breast. “It sure does these ol’ eyes good to see ya riding in here like your ma did.” She leaned out and scratched Junia’s head. “You too, ol’ girl.” She reached around and grabbed a half-chopped carrot for Junia.
Junia snorted her thanks and gobbled down every bite, poking her head inside for more.
Three sets of curious eyes peeked over the windowsill. Junia moved her mouth over their heads, tousling hair. The children shrieked and fell back giggling.
I turned partway around and dug inside the pannier for the material.
“I brought you some children’s books.” I handed her The Runaway Bunny, April’s Kittens, and Bear Party. “Here’s a Sports Afield for Devil John and Woman’s Day for you. And there’s some pamphlets from the health department and the latest flyer from the Company store.” I passed them through to her.
“Thank you, Honey. Sure is nourishment for the soul. And Devil will ’preciate his new magazine.”
Carson strolled through the yard. “What’d ya bring me, Mary True and Blue? Or are ya here to finally wash that week’s worth of dirty laundry you promised me over in Thousandsticks?” he teased. His face was boyish, and his eyes were lit with amusement.
I laughed, remembering him wagging his finger at me in front of the sheriff and social worker. “It’ll have to wait, Carson, and it looks like I forgot your book. I’ll fetch you a good read next week. Promise. Maybe your papa will share his till then.”
“You can read to the gran’babies.” Martha Hannah leaned out of the window and told him, “Git in here and help me with ’em so I can git my supper on.”