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Dear Momma,
I am sorry that I had to run away, but you wouldn't listen to me. During my travels I met a wonderful young man named Luke. He is handsome and gentle and very loving and he has decided to marry me and be the father of my child.
Luke and I are on our way to his home, where we intend to build our own lives.
No matt
er what you said to me or what you did, I still wish you happiness and hope that you will find it in your heart to wish me the same.
Love, Leigh
.
I put a stamp on it and dropped it in the mailbox outside the restaurant. Then, we were off again.
Luke drove all day and all night. I kept asking him if he was tired, but he said he had more energy now than ever before in his life and he was so anxious to get to Winnerrow, he didn't want to stop for anything but gas, food, and the bathroom. Miles and miles slipped by and I fell asleep a few times. By the time the first light of morning peeped over the horizon, we were in the hill country, steadily climbing, the truck straining as we wound around and around. Shoddy, unpainted little buildings heralded yet another country town off the beaten track, until those too were left behind us. I noticed that the gasoline stations became more widely spaced, and the newly constructed motels were replaced by little cabins tucked away in shadowy dense woods.
We went down the mountains again and reached a valley. Here were the broad green fields on the outskirts of Winnerrow, neat farms with fields of summer crops that soon would be harvested.
"After these farms," Luke said, "you'll see the homes of the poorest in the valley, those not much better off than true hillbillies. Up there," he pointed toward the hills ahead of us, "are the coal miners' shacks and moonshiners' cabins."
I gazed up toward the hills excitedly. The tiny homes dotted the mountainside and looked so peaceful and set back, almost as if they had grown there and were part of the natural surroundings.
"There are rich and well-to-do people here, too," Luke explained, nodding toward the deepest part of the valley. "See where all the richest mountain silt is driven downward by the heavy spring rains? It ends up in the gardens of Winnerrow families, providin' fertile soil for those who need it least. They have all these spectacular flower gardens and grow the best tulips, daffodils, irises, roses, and anythin' else their rich, little hearts desire," he added bitterly.
"You don't like the town people very much, do you, Luke?" I asked. He was silent for a moment and then he spoke through his teeth.
"We'll drive down ,Main Street and you'll see that's where all the winners live. Maybe that's why they call this place Winnerrow."
"Winners?"
"The owners of the coal mines built their big houses here on the backs of the losers: miners who still die from black lung and the like. You also have the owners of the cotton gins that make fabric for bed and table linenes and owners of cotton mills with their invisible airborne lint that so many workers breathe into their lungs. And no one ever sued an owner for damages," he added angrily.
"Did you or any of your family ever work in the mines or mills, Luke?" I asked.
"My brothers did for a while when they were younger, but they couldn't hold down any sort of work long and took off on their own. My pappy wouldn't do that work. He'd rather scrounge out a livin' from the earth, take odd jobs here and there, or sell moonshine. And I can't say as I blame him.
"One thing I should tell you right off, Angel: the townspeople don't like us Willies folk much. They make us sit in the back in church and keep their children away from our children."
"Oh, that's terrible, Luke. Why take things out on little children?" I cried, thinking how hurt they must feel. Now I, too, understood why Luke was so bitter about the townspeople. "No one should feel better than anyone else."
"Yeah, well, you tell that to the mayor of Winnerrow," he said smiling. "I bet you could. I can't wait to get dressed up and take you to church, Angel. Can't wait," he said shaking his head.
We arrived at a fork in the road and Luke made a right turn that took us away from the macadam road and onto a hard-packed dirt and gravel road. It went on and on through the woods and finally became only a dirt road with ridges and bumps that made the truck toss and turn so hard, I had to grab hold of the door handle. As we drove on, my nostrils were tickled with the scents of honeysuckle and wild strawberries, and raspberries on the vine. It was cool and fresh and crisp here in the mountains of West Virginia, and it made me feel more alive. It was as if the mountain air washed away all the polluted air I had been breathing in the stale, cold and dreary rooms of Farthy; for that was the way I remembered it right now.
"Almost there, Angel. Hold on. Wait until Ma gets a gander at you."
I held my breath. Where did his family live? How could they be so far back in the woods? How could they have a house with pipes leading to a sewer system or to a water system? And where were the electric wires and telephone wires? All I saw were trees and bushes.
Suddenly, I thought I heard the sound of a banjo being played. Luke smiled widely.
"Pa's on the porch, strummin' away," he said.
We turned around a clump of thick trees and stopped. There it was--Luke's home. I couldn't prevent my gasp of surprise. Two small hound dogs sprawled in a pool of sunlight sprang up and began barking excitedly.
"That's Kasey and Brutus," Luke said. "My dogs. And that's home sweet home."
Home sweet home! I thought. The cabin was built out of old wood full of knotholes. It looked like it had never known paint. The roof consisted of rusted tin that had wept a million tears to stain the old silvery wood. The cabin had drainpipes and rain barrels which I realized were meant to catch water.
