All these thoughts rumbled through Lucy’s head as she returned to Cora’s office carrying a tray of three steaming cups of tea. She stopped short in the hallway as she heard Cora mention her name. “Lucy is my cousin’s daughter. She’s come to help with them.”
Them? Who was them? Lucy leaned closer to the door left ajar. She strained to hear Brother Wyatt’s response, but his voice was low and deep and gentle. She thought he said something like, “It’s happening more and more often.”
“I know. The drought doesn’t help.” Cora’s voice, unlike Brother Wyatt’s, could be heard clear and loud.
“It’s so much more than that.”
“I know, I know. They’re so vulnerable. But change comes slowly to the people of the mountain.” Cora let out a loud sigh. “Have faith, Wyatt. You’re always telling me that very thing. ‘For with God, nothing is impossible.’”
When there was a long moment of silence, Lucy gave up being the bug on the wall and used her elbow to push the door all the way open. “I brought tea.”
“Thank you, Miss Lucy, but I mustn’t tarry.” Brother Wyatt smiled, though this time it didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, he seemed rather preoccupied. He gave Cora a meaningful nod, and then he left.
Cora sat behind her desk, an enormous oak piece, ornately carved, and riffled through papers as if looking for something.
Lucy gazed around the office. A richly colored oriental rug covered the floor. One wall had three standing bookshelves, with books jammed in every spare inch of space. “Cora, where shall I work?” There wasn’t a surfeit of room, and every horizontal inch was taken up with books or papers. “Perhaps I could locate a small desk and set it out in the hallway. Even a table would work.”
Still hunting for something on top of her desk, Cora didn’t even look up. “You can share my desk. It’s double-sided.”
“But I’ll get in your way.”
“Not at all. You’ll hardly be here.”
“Pardon me?” Still holding the tea tray, Lucy walked toward her cousin’s stately desk. “Where will I be?”
“Out in the field.” Cora lifted a pile to reveal a fat brown envelope. “There it is!” She set the envelope on top of a stack of books. “These are letters that need answering. Precious letters.”
“But surely I could do that from here. Take your dictation.”
“Surely not. These letters aren’t to me. Or from me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There are people in the rural areas who need someone to dictate to. They come all the way into town to have me help them with their correspondence.” She let out a happy sigh. “Oh, Lucy. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re here. These good people work so hard. You can go to their homes and save them a trip to town.” She inked her quill as if that was all there was to say and she had other matters to attend to.
“Why don’t they write their own letters?”
Cora’s head snapped up. “Because they never learned to read or write.”
“So they’re imbeciles?”
Cora’s swift and stern reaction reminded Lucy of her father’s disapproving looks. “Not in the least.” She set the quill in the inkpot. “Mountain people aren’t stupid, Lucy. They haven’t had an opportunity for an education, but they’re not stupid.”
“Mountain people? Um . . . just where are their homes?”
“Up in the hollers.”
A cold chill trickled down Lucy’s spine. “Oh. I see.” Though Lucy didn’t see at all. She had come to Morehead to help her cousin with secretarial work, not tromp into the hills of eastern Kentucky. “I assume there’s a car and driver to hire?”
Cora looked up in surprise. “A car?” She gave Lucy a patient smile. “Dear girl, I’d daresay that most everyone you’ll meet up there has yet to lay eyes on an automobile. In fact, there’s not much of any road to speak of into the hollers other than a few logging roads, and you should stay clear of those.”
Lucy paused. “Then, uh, perhaps I could hire a hansom cab?”
Cora leaned back in her chair, eyes crinkling with amusement.
“A dray? A hackney?” Then Lucy had a startling revelation. “Oh, you can’t possibly mean . . .”
“Horseback. There’s a livery stable down the road. Horses for hire.”
Oh my stars and garters. Lucy’s newfound courage, so thin and fragile and untried, began to shatter. The teacups clattered, and she set the tray on her cousin’s desk before she dropped it. “Cora, I’m not trained to ride a horse.” She was well trained in making tea.
Cora’s eyes lit up at the sight of the tray, as if it just occurred to her that she’d sent Lucy out to make tea. “Why, Lucy! You remembered I like honey in my tea.” She properly loaded her cup with honey and took a sip, then gave Lucy a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
Not so fast. “I’ve never been on the back of a horse in my life.”
Taking another sip, Cora peered over the cup’s rim at Lucy. “You’re not serious.”
“But I am. Father felt it was unladylike.”
“Your father”—Cora set the teacup back on the tray with a frown—“likes to forget where he came from. When we were children, we rode bareback all over those hills and hollows.” She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, as if lost in a pleasant memory.
“Father would never allow me to go into those hills and hollows unchaperoned.”
Cora shifted to peer out the window. “There’s a boy named Finley James who works over at the livery. Tell him to choose a horse that gives a nice gentle ride and doesn’t shy at snakes.”
“Snakes?” Lucy sucked in a gasp of air. “Even if I could ride a horse, which I can’t, I have absolutely no idea where to go. I don’t know my way around these parts. It’s not sensible.”
Cora seemed astounded by Lucy’s objections. “Just follow the creek. Triplett Creek. When there’s a ford in the creek, cross over to the opposite bank and head up the trail. It’ll take you straight up to Mollie McGlothin’s.”
Ford? Cross a creek? On a horse? Lucy barely had time to digest this, to explain that she had no ability to do any of those things, when Cora added, “As for the rest, you’ve got the names on those letters. Everybody knows everybody else. They’ll point you in the right direction.” She tucked her chin and started to write something.
“Cora . . . I can’t.”
She looked up, surprised. “Lucy, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
Nothing? What about snakes? Or falling off a horse? This was crazy! “I can’t ride any kind of four-legged creature into the woods, all alone. What if something happens?” An encounter with a wild beast? A fall off the horse? “Where do I sleep? Or eat?” Lucy had a stomach-sinking feeling that she already knew the answers to those questions. She was on her own.
“You’ll be back to town in a wink.” Cora tugged at the timepiece pinned to her shoulder and glanced at it, frowning. “Maybe two.”