Page 30 of In These Hills

Miss Mary drew herself up. “You’re saying if you go back, your man will kill you?”

“Yes. Him or his father, one.” Josephine wiped her cheeks and stood straighter. “If you’ll allow me to stay, just for a little while, I’ll do whatever work you give me. And I won’t cause trouble.”

“Why do I have trouble believing that?” Miss Mary glanced back at the stove.

“I’ll clean this mess. All of it. Just please, allow me to—” Maybe it was the dire need of her circumstances, the pleading in her own voice, or realizing how far—and quickly—she’d fallen, but Josephine felt something break down deep inside her. “I don’t know how I got here,” she whispered. “Or why all this happened. All I know is . . . I need your help. Because I have nowhere else to go.”

Miss Mary studied her, and Josephine—standing in yesterday’s clothes, near penniless—was reminded of the freedmen who had come to her parents’ door, their families huddled behind them, weariness etched across their faces. Only now did she truly begin to understand that look.

“You said you’re good with numbers.” Miss Mary eyed her. “Was that truth? Or another lie?”

“It’s the truth. I’m very good with numbers, and with keeping books. I’d be honored to help you—”

“I already told you, I keep my own books. But there’s a man in town who needs help with orders, receipts, and the like. I heard him talking again last night at the table. His business is growing faster than he can manage.” Miss Mary’s gaze hardened. “But if I put my good name behind yours and you fail to—”

“I won’t. I promise you. I’ll do a good job and will not tarnish your name.”

Miss Mary glanced at Calla. “You okay with this?”

Calla nodded without hesitation.

“All right then.” Miss Mary laid out her terms. “You’ll clean this mess, staying out of Calla’s way while she gets breakfast for my tenants, then clean yourself up.” Miss Mary gave her a once-over. “I’m a mite taller than you, and thicker ’round the middle but I think I’ve got something that’ll fit you. I’ll make loan of a skirt and blouse, and you get into town this very day and see that man about the job. I’ll write everything down, even send him a note.”

Josephine blinked back a flood of relief. “Thank you, Miss Mary.”

“Don’t go thanking me just yet. You don’t get the job, that means you can’t pay room and board. And an able body works and pays their way. I know you’re down on your luck, and I feel for you. But everybody’s got something. No matter if you can see it outright or not. So you get that job, and you can stay here.” She glanced at Calla, who again nodded. “And Calla here, good-hearted woman she is, will let you share her space. You’ll take your meals here in the kitchen with her. Table in the dining room is for tenants or guests only. And you’ll attend church every Sunday. Either the Methodist church with me or where Calla goes. Doesn’t matter to me. What matters is getting the Word inside you. You good with all that?”

Josephine didn’t hesitate, even though it meant sitting through sermons she knew wouldn’t be to her liking. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“All right then. Get to it.”

With that, Miss Mary swept back through the door to greet her tenants.

Josephine gripped the back of a kitchen chair, still struggling with emotion. “I’m sorry about your kitchen, Calla.”

Calla covered Josephine’s hand. “Things that can be cleaned up so easy ain’t worth spilling tears over. It’s the things we do to each other that we can’t undo that deserve mourning.” She drained her honeyed mint tea. “More than we usually do.”

13

“MOVE ON, ANGEL.” Dodge nudged the mare’s flank and guided her back through the herd, watching for signs of illness. After discovering two sickly cows that morning, he’d sent for Doc Wyatt. Despite his unease, he told himself the dread pressing in his chest came from knowing he still had to break the news to Bethie after school—and nothing else.

“Seein’ anything over there, boss?” Jake hollered from across the pasture.

Dodge shook his head. “You?”

“No, sir. Not a one.”

“Maybe it’s just the two we found.”

“You think they’re gonna make it?”

“We’ll see what Doc says. I’m heading in. Come find me if anything else turns up.” Dodge spurred Angel into a canter toward the lower barn, Jessie racing alongside.

Sawyer, the newest—and youngest—farmhand, ran out to meet him, eager as ever. At twelve, the boy reminded Dodge of himself. Maybe that was why he’d hired him two weeks earlier when Sawyer came asking for work, saying he’d do anything if he could just learn to be a cattleman.

“Let me take Angel for you, sir!”

“Thanks, Sawyer. Rub her down good.”