<< Go Back

Mountain Redemption

By Cynthia Hickey

Order Now!

Pine Ridge, Arkansas, 1925
A gunshot shattered the brisk autumn day, piercing the late-afternoon silence.
Phoebe Lillie’s head jerked up, and she raised a hand to shade her eyes, peering over the hills of Pine Ridge. She frowned. Surely that wasn’t Pa still hunting.
Grandma Edna paused in climbing the knoll and stooped to pluck something from the travel-worn path leading to the cabin. A cry of alarm escaped her.
She bustled forward and handed Phoebe a straight pin. “Evil’s a-coming. This had the point aimed right at me.”
“Then you should have left it lie.” Phoebe rolled her eyes at her grandmother’s superstition.
“No, no, can’t do that. That would bring worse luck. Where’s your sense, girl? Nineteen-years-old and you don’t know something simple like that?” She brushed past Phoebe into the dim recesses of the cabin. “Where’s the young’uns?”
“Chores.” Phoebe left the door open to allow the breeze to circulate and clutched her worn sweater closer. Her baby sister wailed from the front room. “Maggie’s waking now, Grandma.”
The sound of another gunshot ricocheted across the Hollow. Grandma put a hand to her bosom. “That noise is going to send me to an early grave. Where’s your pa? It can’t be him hunting. He most likely finished hours ago. It’s almost suppertime.”
“I’m getting worried. Pa told me he wanted to get started cutting the Timothy grass tomorrow. There’s no way he should still be hunting.” Phoebe bent and lifted one-year-old Maggie from a pallet on the floor. She wrinkled her nose against the strong odor wafting from the wet diaper.
“Talk around Dixon’s store is that the selling of moonshine is on the rise.” Grandma lowered herself into her rocking chair. “Anyways, he’s going to have someone deliver the sugar and batteries. Gave us a fair price for the eggs and butter too.”
Phoebe glanced upward. Thank you, Lord, but please curb Grandma’s spending. Christmas isn’t far away, and the little ones will be expecting a gift.
If something happened to Pa, the holidays would be leaner than usual. Another hardship thrust on Phoebe. They wouldn’t survive the holiday season with another parent gone. Losing Ma had been hard enough, leaving a hole in the family that Phoebe could never fill.
Maggie gurgled at her, reaching to twine her pudgy fingers in Phoebe’s hair. The baby’s smile wrenched Phoebe’s heart. She looked so much like their ma. Pa hadn’t held the baby once since Ma died birthing her. Never cuddled her soft skin or been on the receiving end of a gummy smile. Nothing. He missed so much.
Unease slithered along her back. Gooseflesh prickled her arms. Phoebe shivered, hugging the baby to her chest. She’d experienced the same feeling the night Maggie was born. Something had happened to Pa. She knew it as clear as if a newspaper printed the story on the front page.
Phoebe jolted as her other siblings burst through the door, clamoring for supper. After handing Maggie to her sixteen-year-old sister, Viola, Phoebe limped to the window. Pa had left before sunup. Now, the sun began its crimson descent over the mountain. For the first time, the familiar sound of gunshots sent tremors through her. She sighed and closed the door.
Viola tied Maggie into a straight-back chair with a dishtowel around the baby’s waist then started setting the table. Phoebe cut cornbread and poured glasses full of buttermilk. She cast anxious glances toward Pa’s chair at the head of the table. Ma’s chair remained as empty as the day she died. No one sat there or claimed the spot of woman of the house. It was time. Once she’d finished serving the seven others, she straightened her back and took Ma’s seat next to Pa’s.
The others stared for a moment then transferred their attentions to their plates. Grandma nodded and smiled. Phoebe relaxed. The time had come to take her mother’s place.
She glanced around the table. If her premonitions about Pa were correct, it’d be up to her and her seventy-two-year-old grandmother to make sure the children reached adulthood, a difficult task in the Ozark Mountains, even with two parents. Phoebe’s shoulders slumped.
The chunks of cornbread swam in the cold milk. Her stomach rebelled at the sight of the too common meal. Her family spooned the simple dinner into hungry mouths. She should’ve cooked beans to go with it or made one of her sisters cook.
She eyed her quilting frame hanging from the ceiling. On the floor under it sat a box of quilt squares waiting to be sewn. She couldn’t do everything. Not and finish the work that actually brought in money.
Footsteps sounded on the wood-planked front porch. Phoebe’s heart leaped. It could be Pa.
James rose and slid the beam holding the door closed. He turned with a grin. “It’s Eli Coffman with the sugar.”
Why Eli? Anyone but him.
Grandma’s toothless smile stretched her wrinkled face. “Chocolate gravy for breakfast.”
Cheers rose around the table. Phoebe sighed.
Eli entered with a ten pound bag of sugar in one hand and batteries in the other. His muddy-brown eyes fixed on Phoebe. Revulsion gnawed a hole in her stomach. “I got over here as quick as I could. Had to feed the little ones first.”
Phoebe forced a greeting on her lips. “We’ve corn bread and fresh buttermilk.” Please don’t stay. She couldn’t bear to look at him over her kitchen table.
He shook his head. “I thank you kindly, but I’d best be getting back.”
Relief flooded through her.
“Walk him out, Phoebe.” Grandma waved her fork.
Curse proper manners. Stifling a groan, Phoebe stood and sidestepped around Eli. The stench of sour corn mash rolled off him. She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat and stormed outside. The chilly night air slapped her flushed cheeks. She drew in deep, cleansing breaths.
Eli brushed past her, his hand trailing down her arm as he went to stand on the bottom step and peered up at her. “Have you done some more thinking on my proposal? My little ones need a ma.”
“So do my brothers and sisters.” She crossed her arms.
Eli’s eyes hardened. “Still holding out for love? Like there’s a flock of men willing to marry a woman with a gimpy leg, no matter how comely her features?”
She raised her chin and wished for the shotgun propped in the corner of the dining room. “You can leave now. Your little ones are home alone.” Phoebe moved inside, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the rough wood and closed her eyes.
A left leg only an inch shorter than the other didn’t cause any more problems than back-ache at the end of a busy day. If a man couldn’t love her despite her handicap, he could go to the devil. “JJ, light the lamp and put the batteries in the radio. The Hay’s weekly broadcast comes on in a few minutes.”
James’s face lit up. “You sure we can spare them?”
She nodded. “There’s little enough pleasure in the world.” Phoebe shuffled to the sink where Viola had already filled it with steaming water from a kettle. Her hands stung as the heat melted away the outdoor chill, sending biting ants through her fingers.
“You’re a fool for turning him down.” Grandma’s knitting needles clacked behind her. “You’re going to be an old maid. Can’t afford to be choosy at your age.”
Phoebe shrugged. If her pa didn’t show up soon, she’d have more responsibility than she could handle without a husband tying her down. And a drunkard of a husband at that.
She lifted a glass from the soapy water and set it in a basin of clear water. Besides, her quilt-making and taking care of her siblings kept her busy enough. There was no time in Phoebe’s life for a husband of her own.
*
Frigid mountain air tore at his clothing and bit at his cheeks as the sun disappeared over the craggy peaks of the Ozarks. Jacob Wright set his satchel down, hitched his pack higher on his shoulder, and then flexed his stiff fingers.
He shuffled along the road, rocks digging into the soles of his shoes. Weeks of riding the rails looking for work and preaching in whatever town would have him, had left him ragged and exhausted. He looked forward to the peace of Pine Ridge, Arkansas, and its simple people.
The tiny ad in Compton’s newspaper asking for a teacher was a gift from heaven. At least he’d have a roof over his head, food to eat, and cash in his pocket. Not as much as when he’d been a deputy in Little Rock, but enough.
He shivered. Why didn’t this little-known place have a decent road in and out? He winced at his bitter thoughts. Sorry, Lord, don’t mean to complain.
Jacob glanced at his watch. Nine o’clock. No wonder lights flickered off in windows of the shack and cabin windows he passed. He needed to find Dixon’s store, an impossible task on a moonless night. Staying out in the cold didn’t appeal to him. He’d stop at the next home he came to and beg the occupants to lend him a corner to sleep in.
A light flickered through the trees. A dog barked. Jacob jerked. Sounded close. He searched the trees.
There … a small cabin nestled among the oaks and pines. Smoke curled from the chimney like vapors. Well, at least someone was home. A red-bone hound bounded toward him.
He held out his palm to the dog. “Good boy. I’m just looking for a place to lay my head. Hey, the house!”
“Who’s there?” A woman’s voice came to him through an open window.
“I’m the new school teacher, ma’am. I’m afraid I’m lost.”
The door opened, silhouetting what appeared to be a child holding a rifle as big as her. He’d definitely stepped into another world when friendly folks were greeted with a gun. “Stay where you are. I haven’t heard about a teacher.”
“I’m supposed to report to a Jim Dixon.”
“You’ve got the wrong place. He’s about a half-mile down Possum Road.”
Was everything named after an animal? “Please. I’ve come a long way. I’m looking for a warm place to lie down.”
“Let him in, child. Dixon told me a teacher would be arriving.” An older woman’s voice rang out as glorious as angels singing to Jacob’s tired body.
The girl lowered her rifle and ushered him inside. Jacob stepped into the warm glow from the fire and gaped. She wasn’t just a girl, but the prettiest yellow-haired woman he’d ever seen. He closed his mouth before she thought him an idiot. He thrust out his hand. “I’m Jacob Wright.”
Eyes shining like polished buttons peered at him then glared at his hand for a moment before slipping her fingers in his and giving a quick shake. “Phoebe Lillie. This is my grandma, Edna Lillie. Everyone calls her Grandma. We’ve some cornbread left from supper if you’re hungry.”
His stomach grumbled in response. A hint of a smile teased the corners of her mouth. “I’ll get some cold milk from the cellar to go with it.”
“I’m much obliged.” Jacob dropped his belongings near the door and took a seat on one of the benches running beside the simple kitchen table.
A potbellied stove provided warmth and served to cook the meals. A pump over a metal bucket occupied the center of a wide wood counter. Shelves lined the wall on both sides of a small window. Yellow-checked calico served as curtains. Rag rugs littered the floor, providing cheerful color on the worn planks. A quilting rack with a partial quilt hung suspended from the ceiling. A rocking chair and a few straight backed ones with straw-woven seats, provided places to rest. A ladder led to an overhead loft, and two doors flanked the fireplace. A home holding necessities only, with simple touches of a woman’s attempt toward a comfortable feel.
“Is the man of the house home?” he asked.
Phoebe’s back straightened. “He’s hunting.” Pensive lines on the sides of her mouth deepened as she glanced toward the door. “Ought to be back at any time.”
“Stop being prickly, girl,” Grandma Edna said. “My nose was itching all day. I knew someone would be coming to our door needing sustenance.”
“Grandma, please. Enough of the superstitions.” Phoebe handed Jacob a plate.
“It’s fact, missy.” Grandma crossed her arms.
Jacob bit back a grin. He remembered the warnings about these country people and their superstitions. Which one did Grandma refer too? An itchy nose signified a visitor with a hole in his britches. Well, that fit him to a tee.
“Thank you.” He crumbled his cornbread into his glass and scooped a spoonful into his mouth. Soggy, but bounty from heaven to his starving body.
Phoebe nodded and wrapped a shawl tighter around her. It wasn’t until then he noticed the patched cotton nightgown she wore. The fire’s rays outlined her curvy shape beneath the fabric. Heat rushed to Jacob’s face, and his hand paused before he ducked his head. “I’m sorry. I disturbed your rest.”
“Nonsense. It’s the Christian thing for us to do.” The creak of the wood rocking chair brought his gaze up. Grandma set a folded, faded quilt on the table beside him. “Make yourself at home. In the morning, we’ll point you in the right direction.”
“Much obliged. God bless.” He kept his attention focused on the food in front of him until the ladies retired to the loft overhead.
Having finished eating, he stood and set his dishes in the tub of water, then dug his Bible out of his pack. Hunkered down in front of the dying fire, he tried to read his daily quota of Proverbs.
Who were these people giving him shelter? Wary, yet welcoming. Poor, yet willing to give up what little they had to a stranger. He closed the book and stared into the scarlet embers. He turned off the oil lamp. He wouldn’t waste their precious resources.
There had to be a way to repay their kindness without ruffling any feathers. Maybe cutting wood. He studied his hands. Work-worn and calloused, yet they hadn’t held an axe in a long time. Nothing much more than a pencil stub. Or a gun. That wasn’t the life for him anymore. He refocused his attention on his new job as a teacher. An occupation more fitting for a follower of Christ.
People this simple wouldn’t have much in the way of teaching tools. What would he use to train up the children of Pine Ridge? He didn’t even know if the place had a schoolhouse. He hoped it did. A smarter man might have thought to ask before accepting the job.
He pulled the quilt off the table and wrapped it around his shoulders before settling into one of the chairs. It might be an uncomfortable night, but at least he’d be warm. Jacob fell asleep dreaming of a golden-haired beauty with curves to set a man’s mind racing, and fear haunting her face.

Order Now!

<< Go Back