Hello Everyone,
Here is Chapter 7 for my Packhorse Librarian story to go along with the Bridle Path quilt.
If you are new to my blog, I suggest you start at the beginning of the story. I try to post a short chapter every month. This is a fictional account of Lexie, a Packhorse Librarian in Kentucky in the 1930's. She is writing a diary to her young daughter, Grace.
Chapter #7 Month #7
March 1936
Dear Grace,
It has been several
months now that I’ve totally embraced my new job as a packhorse librarian. I was not expecting to have such a depth of
fondness for the folks along my daily route.
Each day I feel as though I’m living between two landscapes, the rustic,
and quaint town of Cobble Hill, and the backcountry and hollers nestled in the
mountains surrounding the town.
I’ve known most of the
people along my route my entire life.
But now, I’ve been invited into their homes and I’m really getting to
know them at a deeper, more personal level, and I look forward to our weekly and,
in some cases, monthly visits for those who live deeper in the woods.
After I drop you off at
Grandma Millie’s house, I head over to the collection room at the back of the
library we packhorse librarians use to gather and pack up the books and reading
material we are going to distribute.
This morning, I decided to stop at the Spinning Wheel Café for a cup of
coffee. I was greeted by the tinkling of
the bell as I walked through the front door and inhaled the blissful scent of freshly
made cinnamon rolls right from the oven.
How could I resist the urge to splurge on a piping hot roll? I had a few coins in my pocket and placed
them on the counter. I had just enough
change for coffee and a roll which I decided to eat half now and wrap the rest
in a cloth napkin and save to enjoy later in the day.
Sheriff McHenry sat at
the end of the counter wearing his trademark trappers’ hat which was not
standard issue for his uniform. Maybe it was worn in the northernmost reaches
of Canada by the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, but not in Kentucky. The flaps were ‘up’ which meant he was
listening to every word spoken in the café. You knew if the flaps were ‘down’
the sheriff was thinking about a case he was working on and he was not to be
disturbed. His cases usually revolved around an illegal still, stolen horse,
runaway husband, wife, teenaged child, or a fist fight at the local bar. We had only one sheriff for the entire county
and occasionally he had to draw on the resources of a neighboring town for a
particularly serious case.
For the most part, he
spent his day in the café nursing a cup of coffee with a Lucky Strike cigarette
building up ash in an ashtray, which Winnie, a very plump waitress, dumped out
several times a day. I think Winnie enjoyed a few too many cinnamon rolls. Also,
sheriff McHenry sported a large belly, probably a result of those cinnamon
rolls too.
Sheriff McHenry always saved
the spent pack of Lucky Strikes. He
would never wad up an empty pack in his fist.
He would remove the #2 Ticonderoga pencil from between his ear flap and
ear and gently press the pencil over the empty pack to make it nice and flat. He
was known to use the finished packs for target practice as the package looked
like it had a bullseye on it. He didn’t
have to draw his firearm very often, but he certainly wanted to be ready and
deadly accurate if the need arose. The woods
around Cobble Hill were decorated with empty packs of Lucky Strikes tacked to
trees with the bullseye totally obliterated.
I guess this was a word of warning to any would be criminal.
The county issued the
sheriff a 1927 Model T for his official duties.
He literally drove the car a consistent 27 miles an hour around town whether
he was headed to an emergency or just cruising around the community looking for
suspicious activity. I wonder how fast
he will drive if he were to be given a newer model? I would think if he had been issued a 1936 model,
he would still drive only 27mph, as 36mph would be totally out of control.
At the far end corner of
the counter was his unofficial office, and we all knew not to sit on his personal
stool. When he brought folks in for an
interview, he took them to a corner booth for privacy which was not very
private. As I walked in this morning,
the sheriff looked up at me through a ribbon of smoke, with eyes squinted. He was always surveying every café patron
with suspicion.
I hung around the
Spinning Wheel Café and listened to Walter Winchell on radio station WABC from New York. He was talking
about the 1936 Summer Olympics which were going to be held in Berlin, Germany
in August. There was a lot of talk about a working-class team of rowers from
the University of Washington who had qualified to go to Berlin. The commentator
was also talking about Jessie Owens, the Buckeye Bullet from Ohio State. It was
going to be fun following the US Olympic team on the radio. I’m still amazed
that a voice from New York can reach all the way to rural Kentucky! I
can’t imagine how a voice can travel across the ocean to our little corner of
the world.
This morning, I could
hear folks talking about a wake being held at the Craig Memorial Congregational
Church for a long-time resident of Cobble Hill, Mrs. Gordon. Years ago, before
I was in school, Mrs. Gordon was the schoolmarm. I remember hearing how rigid and strict she
was during her time at the schoolhouse. This was going to be a real social
gathering as more than half of the residents were schooled by her and still
spoke about the crack of the ruler they received on the back of their hands. Mrs. Gordon and Mrs. VanAsperen were fast
friends and when Mrs. Gordon retired from teaching, she gave Mrs. VanAsperen
her ruler. Unfortunately, Mrs. Gordon
had trained the ruler well and Mrs. VanAsperen still used it to discipline her
students. I don’t think that ruler ever
measured a thing except for the pain and humiliation it inflicted.
Sheriff McHenry would be at
the wake too. He would remove his hat
during the prayer only, and then he’d slap it right back on his head. You see, he has a perfectly egg-shaped bald
head which elicited snickers and giggles whenever his hat was off. If you ever
wondered what Humpty Dumpty looked like, just take a peek at Sheriff McHenry
with his hat off. Poor man, I see why it seemed to be glued to his head. Whenever we had a strong windstorm, the
strings on the flaps were securely tied under his double chin. Heaven forbid
his hat blew off and looked like an escaped monkey from a zoo rolling down main
street.
Jenny Kenline, also known
as the ‘grief catcher’ will be at the wake in full wake regalia and a plate of
cookies. I’m not sure that Mrs. Gordon would be on the receiving end of one of
Jenny’s carrot cakes, which were reserved for only the happiest of occasions. I always wondered why a wake is called ‘wake’
when the object of all the attention is obviously far from being ‘a-wake’. I’m sure Mrs. Gordon would be very
disapproving if there was a drop of alcohol consumed during her wake, so
cookies it is and absolutely no rum balls allowed.
I headed over to the
library with my cinnamon roll tightly rolled up in a cloth napkin which I
promised to return to Winnie. I’m not
sure how the roll would fare in my saddlebag packed with books, so I decided to
keep it in my coat pocket. I knew I would probably have a grease stain on my
pocket, but I didn’t care. I threw the
saddlebags full of books over Starkey’s hind end, and we were off for the day,
and it was just barely 8:00 am.
I love these early
morning rides. The sky was
pewter-colored over the green grass and trees. I could hear the birds chirping
and singing their praise for the day. I
joined in with a silent prayer of thanks and gratitude for my life, my
important job, and for you Grace. I
stopped at several cabins along my route before I went to see Nellie
Welsh. Her cabin was always so depressing,
yet she was up and dressed to a ‘tee’ just in case this was the day she was
going to pass over. She offered me a cup
of coffee, but I declined as I still had multiple stops along my way.
I came to the river which
was higher than usual for this time of year. Starkey, my dog Blue, and I stood
at the shore watching the swift water pass by.
I looked at the water and thought about my life racing by. Two leaves
were flowing swiftly together until they came to a large rock. One leaf moved smoothly around the rock,
while the other one was caught in an eddy in front of the rock and was sucked into
the water. I thought about me and the
fact that my life is the leaf heading downstream. Your father’s life was swallowed by the eddy,
and we aren’t going to be meeting downstream anytime soon. There are times like
these when sadness washes over me to the point that I ignore everything around
me when I should be paying more attention to everything surrounding me. Enough
of these silent conversations with myself.
Starkey put his right
hoof into the water, then reared and spun around as though he had been shot by
a bullet from Sheriff McHenry’s handgun. Starkey was whirling around in a frenzy, while
I held on to the reins and saddle horn for dear life spinning in every
direction like the needle on a compass. While I was spinning just like the
Tile-A-Whirl at the local carnival, I caught
a glimpse of Little Georgie Stoltz stealing away holding his bow. My guess is Georgie’s suction-cup arrow found
Starkey’s rump at close range and startled him into turning circles in search
of the culprit who attacked him. Before I knew it, I landed on my buttocks in
the river. All I could think about was
the ruined cinnamon roll in my pocket!
As luck would have it,
Daniel from Leonardo’s Mill was driving by with a load of mill ends in the bed
of his truck. He parked and ran over to
help me out of the water and grabbed Starkey’s reins. Blue just stood there and barked at Daniel,
then pursued Little Georgie off into the woods. I was secretly wishing Blue
would take a little nip out of Georgie’s rump to teach him a lesson! I know that is so un-Christian like but I
wasn’t feeling very charitable at the time.
When Daniel got me
upright, I realized that somehow on the way down, I had twisted my ankle, possibly
my boot had gotten hung up in the stirrup.
Daniel thought I should leave my boot on, and he loaded me into his
truck and thought it would be a good idea if he took me to Old Doc Wood’s
office. He tied Starkey’s reins to the
back of the truck and Blue jumped up and played king of the mountain on top of
the load of mill ends and we were off at a slow rate of speed, much slower than
Sheriff McHenry.
Daniel waited for me
while Old Doc Wood gently removed my boot, palpitated my ankle and proclaimed
that I should stay off it for the day, and I’d be fine by morning. I was not so sure that was the case. My buttocks ached, my ankle ached, and my
precious cinnamon roll was ruined. Daniel
then took me to Grandma Millie’s house so she could keep an eye on me during
the day. When the truck pulled up in
front of her house, I got out and hobbled over to the chair on the front porch
and sat down emitting a loud sigh. We
soon discovered that Grandma Millie and Grace must still be at Mrs. Gordon’s
wake.
We sat in contented
silence for a bit when Daniel asked if he could take me to the Spring Frolic at
the Church in two weeks. My mind was
racing……I had only been a widow for a little over a year. Would this be proper? I was lonesome for the company of a man, but
I was not lonely, in fact I had become extremely self-sufficient. I always said
I would never want another man’s boots under my bed, but was that really the
case? It’s amazing the number of
thoughts that can go through your head in a split second. I told him I would have to think about it as
I didn’t think I would be very light on my feet by the way my ankle was
swelling. Daniel suggested we move down
by the stream and sit there for a bit before he had to go on his way. The chilly water made my ankle feel so much
better. Maybe the water just took the
edge off the pain and was beginning to numb my entire foot.
I sat and stared at the
water rushing down out of the mountains and saw it part as it went around a
rock. This time, a leaf didn’t get stuck
in an eddy and the two sides of the stream split then met peacefully on the
other side of the rock and traveled down the waterway together.
Daniel helped me into Grandma
Millie’s cabin, and he went on his way to deliver the mill ends. He would have to explain to the mill owner
why he was late with his deliveries that day, and he knew Mr. Leonardo would be
understanding. Daniel tipped his hat to
me and said he hoped to see me in the next few days to find out my answer to
his invitation. He said he hoped my answer would be yes.
I curled up on the chesterfield
(Sheriff McHenry does not smoke Chesterfields since there’s no ‘target’ on the
pack) and slept until you and Grandma Millie came back from the wake. After I
told her what happened and why I was home, she said she must make Daniel a cake
as a thank you for rescuing me from the river and taking care of me while she
was gone. She knew just the cake she was
going to make because Jenny Kenline out did herself with a new cake recipe for
the wake. She must have had a soft spot
in her heart for Mrs. Gordon after all. Grandma
Millie gave the recipe a new name in honor of Mrs. Gordon.
Soon,
Mama
Old School Walnut Pound
Cake
3 cups cake flour
2 cups sugar
1 cup packed brown
sugar
3 sticks of butter
(room temperature)
5 eggs (room
temperature)
1 cup whole
buttermilk (room temperature)
½ Teaspoon baking
powder
¼ Teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon
vanilla extract
1 Tablespoon pound
cake extract
2 cups walnuts minced
– save some to sprinkle on the top of the cake
THICK GLAZE
2 cups powdered
sugar
1 stick of butter
4 ounces cream
cheese
4 teaspoons half
and half
Cream butter and
sugars together until smooth.
Slowly add eggs 1
at a time
Add flavorings
Sift salt and
baking powder with the flour
Add flour mixture
and buttermilk to the butter and sugar mixture beginning and ending with flour
Stir in walnuts
Pour into a
greased tube pan
Bake at 325
degrees for 1 hour. Check after 45
minutes with a piece of straw from a broom.
The cake is ready when the straw comes out clean.
Let cool in pan
for 20 minutes. Place on a cake plate
and frost when completely cooled
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